Sarah once again! *waves pennant the size of a walnut*
Anarril: As bad as Cassia? Why thank you! ;) Glad you liked our chapter title; and of course we had to include poor, unsuspecting Gandalf and Theoden! We wouldn't hate the guy half so much if he weren't successfully lying through his teeth to all the guys we *do* like. :) *pictures Galmod with slicked down blonde hair and a green and silver scarf* Wow, you're right! And yup, we're HP girls. Don't write fan fiction for it, but love the books! :D
LadyIsabelle: Thanks! Especially about our title; we had fun with that one. :)
Gwyn: Thank you very much! Particularly for your kind words on the reintroduction of Gandalf and poor Theoden's future. Don't worry, Legolas will reappear eventually! :)
RainyDayz: *sigh* Yes, well, we had a feeling we'd be having problems with all the Lego-fans… Alas! Oh well, I suppose once he appears, you'll be happy again, right? *smiles queerly* Oh good. And the reason we even considered it was because we wanted a chance to show Thorongil apart from elves (and since Legolas is one, it looked like we might have to boot him out as well…) Handily, we didn't have to in the end! :) Thanks a bunch! We honestly had to resist the temptation to pummel Galmod graveyard-dead there, but Thorongil restrained us. So, since we couldn't do any maiming, he let us do some mush instead! ;)
Mercredi: Thank you so much, and I know what you mean! Somehow, somewhere along the line, mild romance and female characters in general became fanfic taboo, and it's more than a little frustrating. I guess Hannah and I just decided to ignore the protests and forge ahead anyway, but it's incredibly nice to meet with actual approval! :D You're right, Theoden/Saruman is not expanded in this story, but I'm glad you liked what we did! It always struck me as one of those gaps that demanded to be filled. :) I'm glad you liked Thorongil's speech, and yeppers: Galmod's just plain jealous (though not of Nethtalt's archery). And it's funny you should compare Saruman and Galmod…
Lina: *sighs as Thorongil takes cover behind her again* Lina, if you don't behave I'm going to have to restrict you from talking to the main characters! However, you may kick Galmod a bit, if you like; I did the same thing, and I was *writing* him! Where's the logic in that…? *ducks as Saruman goes flying overdramatically over her head* And, uh, help yourself to Saruman too… ;D Nannva is the village where Kelegalen and Nethtalt have been living (also where Thalion, his wife Rokhiell, their son Aldor, and their niece Findel live). S'okay: we're a little geography-nuts! ;)
Eomer: *slips on toast, feet go flying in the air* Ouch! Yeah, no kidding it's a hazard! Why do you think we want it taken off our thread? I'm glad your horse is okay, but believe me, all that swimming in crispy bread will eventually catch up with you! For one thing, how are you ever going to make it south? Oh. Wait a minute…
None: Yep, Gandalf's back, Saruman's wicked, and Legolas is, well he's… You'll find out. Don't worry: we were no more evil than we could help! Cassia/Sio would probably have him mostly dead by now; he can count his blessings. ;)
Krismarief: Oh dear, another rabid Legolas fan! ;D Glad you're liking the story in spite of it's elven deficiencies! We'll fix it as soon as we can… ;)
phoenix queen: Gandalf is a very smart wizard, it's true! And pleased to find you, fellow Saruman hater. Thank you for repressing the language, and thank you also for all those cool new ideas of how to dispose of him!! We really need to have a talk with Peter Jackson about wizard-disposal in ROTK… ;D OH, I get it! Well, romance happens, dontcha know. ;) Thanks!
Maranwe: Welcome! I'm so glad you're liking it, and your compliment on our diction was one of the best we could have received!! 'Morwen' was the name. ;) Ah yes, ye grande chaptre lengthe debate! We simultaneously apologize for being so contradictory, and grin that you're enjoying it enough to want more! In the end, given how much we love enthusiasm (even if accompanied by rotting fruit) we will probably continue in our 6-9 page rut. ;) Ooh, good guess about the trade! I can't tell you if you're right just yet, but you're definitely close to the mark. :D Don't worry: we like friendly banter too, and while this fic may not be as filled with it as most of the MCs, we still have a good portion coming up! :)
Larus: *hugs Larus* Hullo there! It's funny, Hannah and I were just running over our list of readers, and when I realized you hadn't posted in a while, Hannah said, "She's probably busy with school; she'll post when she can." And what should I find when I come onto our thread the very same day? You saying you were busy with school, but now that you can, you're posting! I'm beginning to think my little sister is psychic… ;) Thank you for reviewing specifics!! A single specific is worth ten general 'wow, great writing's any day, and the effort is always appreciated! Particularly regarding our battle scenes, the Wild Men, Kelegalen and Nethtalt, Thorongil and Duurben, and *our maps*! *bounces with glee* And yeah, I nearly killed Saruman every time I mentioned his name; it was all I could do to finish the small part he was in, and I can't even imagine writing him for a whole fic. :{ LOL! Don't worry, I get worse mental pictures than that of Thorongil confronted by Ewoks! ;) In answer to your questions: No, we don't usually share actual fic ideas around the table because we like to read each other's stuff and we give better feedback if we don't already know what's coming. Tips on geography, history, and elvish we swap quite freely, though! :) And as for Thorongil hearing Duurben fall: we were wondering if anyone would notice that! Honestly? Our explanation (that Thorongil was too distracted and talking too loudly to notice) is lame at best, and ridiculous at worst, since we've put Thorongil across as one who always pays attention to his surroundings. But while, as a rule, we dislike loopholes in our logic, sometimes we just fudge it a bit and hope to be forgiven, and this is one of 'em. *sheepish smile* Thank you SO much for your feedback, and congratulations on leaving the school world!! :D
Staran: Coming up!
saber crazy: Don't hurt yourself! *gazes in astonishment at the dents in the door* :O Thanks! And sure you can borrow that, if you have a place for it. :)
reginabean: LOL! 'Hiccup' is just the word! Mm, excellent incite into Thorongil's preferred companions… ;) Yup, sarcasm truly abounds (in our house even more than many), but I shall for once be honest without sarcasm: yeah, that's exactly what we wanted! :D We said he could leave for now, mm-hm. ;) Thanks for braving the hiccups!
Asen: Sorry 'bout that! *hands Asen some aspirin* And sorry for confusing you! If it would help we could give you pronunciation guides; but really, I don't think you need to worry: this won't ever become a movie. ;)
e: Thanks! And we'll fix that cliffy; we promise! :P This is post-SOH, so we figured Thorongil and family probably would have mostly worked it out by now. ;) As for Legolas: we don't forget! We strategize. And if you're about to ask if our strategy calls for Legolas and Thorongil together in the next chapter, I can't tell you. ;)
w: THANK YOU! However well it may have turned out, doing 'sly intelligence' and 'seemingly nonsensical' is extremely hard when one is at times both 'openly idiotic' and 'completely nonsensical'. Once again your knack for making us smile is in top form! :) We're glad the humor came through on our archery scene -- we had begun to realize that we didn't have a whole lot of that here, due to the nature of the situation, and the fact that Legolas is largely absent from the beginning -- and we are furthermore thrilled that you liked the Galmod clash! Thorongil's last line *was* a bit on the sappy side, but we occasionally have lapses of such things, and (unfortunately) they will probably come up again. :{ Glad you liked the rest of his speech! We love spreading huge grins. ;) Last of all: we're pleased that Saruman's study went so well; particularly that Theoden made a good impression, in spite of the knowledge that this will turn into a big mistake, and that Gandalf's worry wasn't overdone! Your continued reviews are so great! :)
Elwen: Hi! Bye! Glad you're still alive, and review when you can (or don't if you can't)! We know you're liking it. ;)
I need to shut up now, or this won't get posted until this evening!!
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Thorongil
By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
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Chapter 12
Astonishing Discoveries
Kelegalen was the first to speak: "Are you certain of your information?"
"Yes sir. We came to alert you as soon as we saw the smoke; there is no one stirring there, and my captain wishes to know if another scout should be sent ahead?"
"I'll go!" Nethtalt exclaimed. The young man was visibly shaken but was already halfway to the door.
"I will go with him," Thorongil followed after, barely catching Kelegalen's consent.
The two left the guard house at a run, mounting their steeds, Maerhiin and Bregol, once they were outside of the gate. Thorongil let Nethtalt lead and they moved quickly from the fort, starting out across the plains. The chill wind of dawn bit hard against their faces as the stallions took to flight over the hilly country. Neither rider said a word as they tore up the highest of the hills; at the crest the smoke came billowing clearly into their vision, but the village was still out of sight.
Nannva was an afternoon's ride from the fort, but at their speed the two men made it there far faster.
The village was in ruin.
Everywhere the simple huts of the Rohirrim had been ransacked. Many still burned slowly and the thatched roofs had sunken in to consume all below. Acrid smoke tainted the air. Gray ash rose high. Thorongil turned at last to look at Nethtalt. For a moment the young man said nothing, then he mouthed one word silently.
"Findel."
Nudging their horses forward they descended the hill down into the village. Thorongil dismounted a moment after Nethtalt — the young man knew exactly where he was going. Running for one of the few houses that had lost its roof, but had not been completely razed, he burst through the door calling Findel's name, and then Aldor's and Thalion's and Rokhiell's. He came out a moment later, his face pale.
"There is no one there," he said, disbelieving. He moved through the houses systematically and Thorongil followed behind him slowly, but what Nethtalt could not bear to believe was becoming very apparent to the captain: none were left in the village. They had all been taken, to what destination and to what fate Thorongil did not know, but he felt in his heart that it would be grim news they would receive.
Nethtalt returned at last, his eyes blinking hard from more than the heavy smoke writhing through the air.
"No one," he said at last. "They are all gone from here."
"Is there somewhere they would flee to?" Thorongil asked.
"They would try to flee, but there is no where nearer than the fort from here." The young man's eyes scanned the horizon, as if to be sure there was no one returning.
"Why would the anyone want the villagers?" Thorongil wondered aloud. "Could they have been after the horses?"
Nethtalt shook his head slowly, "I don't know."
The stable seemed relatively untouched. There were no horses to be found within. Thorongil moved from stall to stall, searching for some clue of the ones who had done this, though he had an unpleasant feeling he already knew. He came to the final stall and glanced in, his eyes lifting towards the high loft — without any warning, a large stone bale weight fell from above him.
His quick reflexes served him well and he leapt back out of the way before the falling projectile could strike him down. It hit the ground with a heavy thud and Thorongil looked at the weight closely, then back up to the loft. He heard a soft groan of frustration and acted quickly. Grasping the support on the stall he twisted up onto the loft, moving swiftly to grab his attacker who was trying desperately to escape. He caught the assailant by the wrist and dragged him back against his chest, causing the figure to retaliate, flailing in the captain's grasp.
"Steady there lad," Thorongil spoke softly in his attacker's ear; for he realized it was indeed a young boy, only about twelve years in age.
"Let go of me! You've done enough damage! There's nothing left to burn!"
The noise had quickly attracted Nethtalt who now climbed up into the loft beside Thorongil. "Aldor!" he exclaimed, recognizing the lad instantly. Thorongil released the boy and he stumbled forward, catching himself on his hands.
"Nethtalt!" Aldor was clearly relieved to see someone he recognized and rose shaking to his knees once more. "Nethtalt! They ruined everything! They took everything! They're all gone! Mother and Father and everyone!"
Thorongil could tell the lad was on the verge of hysterics; he had likely been up here for several hours, too afraid to come out of his hiding place. "I will get him some water."
The captain had no trouble finding one of the wells, which, although broken in several places, was still usable. When he returned Nethtalt had calmed the lad and after he had taken some water Aldor was ready to talk.
"It was the foreigners — the ones father told us about that took Tulganif. They must have surrounded us in the night because the watch didn't see them coming and when they came upon us we couldn't stop them. There were too many of them and too few of us. When the attack began I'd just been going to get some water for Mother; I saw them coming and knew we had to get away — everyone else was screaming and running and trying to escape. I ran inside and called Mother and Findel out before the houses started burning. They burned everything where anyone refused to come out, then they smashed in things and rounded the people up. They started drawing in on us, gathering in the ones who had nearly escaped. Father and the other men on watch tried to — but they were struck until they fell down —" here Aldor broke off as if silently reliving an all too vivid memory. Nethtalt gently rested a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Then what happened?" he asked softly.
"Findel shoved me toward the stable. She told me to release the horses and try and hide myself. I managed to get between the men and one of them chased after me, but I let all the horses loose and they all charged for the door, afraid of the smoke. They nearly trampled the man and in the confusion I hid in a wall panel here in the loft. I've had it as a hiding place for a long time and no one ever found me. I tried to get down after a while to try and help everyone, but when I looked out I saw the men leading everyone in the town away. Some of them were tied and some of them looked hurt — I was so afraid they would return that I came back up here and didn't come back down." Aldor turned frightened eyes up to the two men. "Why did they take them, Nethtalt?" he asked, his voice quavering.
"I don't know," Nethtalt murmured distractedly, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. Thorongil took Aldor gently by the arm, causing the boy to flinch.
"Do not fear me, Aldor," he responded kindly. "I apologize for frightening you. Come, let us get you cleaned up." The captain eased the boy away, leaving Nethtalt for a time alone in the loft.
After giving Aldor water to clean his face, Thorongil moved through the village. A few horses had returned and were waiting by the scorched doorways of their master's homes. All the people had been taken, and almost all had been women and children.
"Why would Southrons want such people?" he wondered aloud again, examining the ruins.
The three of them would have to return to the fort and tell all that had occurred, though what was to be done about it was a serious question.
When Thorongil returned to the stable he found Nethtalt stroking the muzzle of a returned horse in one of the stalls. The captain approached slowly, not wishing to disturb Nethtalt, but the young man spoke up without meeting his gaze.
"Gailloth," he said softly, stroking the horse again. "It was one of the new year's foals — the ugliest foal I'd ever seen in all my days." Thorongil had to admit the horse was not very much to look at. It was a dirty gray with patches of darker gray making its coat look matted. On its forehead was a spatter of white that looked like it could be either a star or a flower, but it was impossible to tell which. "We were going to sell it," Nethtalt continued in the same soft tone, "but Findel had been promised a horse and she would have no other. She said he had just as much ability as any of the handsomer foals, and that she would not feel contented on any other… Thalion was adamant: she could have had any horse in the Wold..."
Thorongil moved quietly up beside the horse and stroked its head gently, turning a compassionate gaze on the young man. "I think she chose well, Nethtalt; in her decision she did not allow herself distracted by what others considered valuable."
"But—he's not even specially fast or clever!" Nethtalt retorted, his words stilted and his eyes suddenly turning up to Thorongil's. "He merely *is* — like any other of a thousand horses."
"Horses are rather like people, Nethtalt: no two are ever alike." He seemed to weigh his words carefully before asking, "You love her, don't you?"
The young man dropped his gaze once more, "Aye." His face was almost ashamed. "But what is the good if I couldn't keep her from this?"
Thorongil smiled slightly moving his hand to Nethtalt's shoulder and causing him to look up again, "A wise man told me once that sometimes you simply cannot prevent the things that go wrong; that in life there will always be trials and it is your duty to overcome them as best as is in your ability. Loving someone is the same way: things *will* happen to the ones you love, and when the time comes, you can only continue to care for them, and protect them to the best of your ability." Again the captain patted the horse, returning to the earlier thread of their conversation, "Findel chose well, Nethtalt. I am certain she has never doubted her choice." Turning to leave the stable, Thorongil paused in the doorway, "And if it can be done, we will bring her safely home again."
Nethtalt met his eyes and nodded slowly.
No further words were needed as the three made their camp in the stable, intending to leave for Medui at first light. Thorongil's mind was full as he lay in the straw, keeping alert as Aldor and Nethtalt fell into a peaceful sleep. At last, though, his weariness overtook him and he drifted off to sleep.
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She watched as the Southrons passed her again. Silently she counted them. There were twelve here as well, just as there had been on the north, west, and east sides.
Findel gave a short sniff of disgust. These foreigners were taking no chances with them — but what could women, children and a few injured men do against a whole camp of Southrons in any case? She sighed and sat back down again next to her aunt. The woman's fever had increased with anxiety, but she was fairing better now. Findel handed her the flask of water she was reaching for.
"I don't need it, Rokhiell," Thalion protested again as the woman gently cleansed the ugly welts on her husband's back.
"Hold still," was all she said, then: "Thank you Findel, dear."
Findel smiled slightly at her uncle's protests. "You need to be healed or you will be in no condition to greet whatever aid we are sent," she reminded him, now handing her aunt the cloth strips torn from the edge of her skirt.
"*If* aid comes, but I do not believe it will be so easy," Thalion gritted his teeth.
"Nonsense," Findel corrected earnestly. "They will find a way, I know."
"Young faith," the man glanced fondly at his niece, and said nothing more.
In a very short while the young maiden grew restless again and after assuring herself that her aunt and uncle were well on their own, she started off once more on her endless circuit.
There were many Rohirrim families here; the whole village had been taken. The girl had been heartened not to see her cousin Aldor — now certain he had managed to hide effectively. This, she knew, would be the only way for anyone to hear the truth of what had become of them, should their captors choose to lie.
Findel moved slowly through the sitting prisoners, most of them hunched against the wind, and cast an idle glance about her, trying to still her hands as they pushed again at her hair. For all the security, they had been given a great amount of freedom. They were not permitted too far back the way they had come and not any closer to the Southron camp, but within these bounds they were hardly watched. Now, weary of waiting for something to occur, she determined to investigate thoroughly — unsure how much could be useful if there was to be an escape.
There was one place she was particularly curious about: one of the tents hung farther away from the others, sitting quite near where the prisoners were. She had wondered if it could house some captain of the guard, but she had not seen any guards go in and out. A simply dressed Southron had gone barely inside once, but had quickly ducked out again, which had made her even more curious — wondering if perhaps they kept a wild beast within, though she had heard no snarls or other noises. Recklessly, unable to quench her curiosity, she had made up her mind to discover the answer to this mystery.
The sentries paid her no mind and she easily moved forward between the others of her village. When she neared the tent she slowed and appeared to looked around at nothing in particular, but instead she took note of every nearby sentry's whereabouts. Each was preoccupied — one was yelling loudly at the other who was rapidly apologizing again and again in his own language — the others were watching them, and she decided after a moment of listening that now was the time.
She could not walk in through the door, for one sentry stood quite near it, but she did not need to. Dropping to her hands and knees she lifted the tent wall and pushed herself under.
An overpowering stench hit her instantly, like she had entered a forgotten tomb of rot and decay. Backing away slightly she squinted against the dimness, and the image that caught her eyes stole her breath away.
In the very center of the tent a stake had been driven to support its peculiarly domed roof, and bound tightly to the post was a—
Findel stifled a terrified scream as the thing turned to look at her. She backed away, horrified. The being was strange and unfamiliar to her; it appeared to have been injured in many places and now infection had set in, so that in some places the old cuts had leaked blood and fluid to mix with the dirt that covered the figure. It frightened her and mesmerized her at once, but right away she only wanted to escape it. Quickly turning she lifted the tent wall again.
"Wait—" croaked a hoarse voice behind her. The girl froze and turned towards the creature once more.
She pressed her back against the animal pelts that lined the interior and did not move anywhere close to the thing in the center of the room. Had she been able to undo her foolish entrance, she would have gladly done so.
Never had she seen such a creature before, but now that her original shock had worn slightly, she looked closer and then felt herself unable to look away. Its hair was a brilliant silvery gold, or at least, it had been once; it was tangled, and grime had dulled it. The creature's face, as she tried to see beneath the layers of dirt and crusted blood, had been fair also. Now a horribly infected welt slashed across both cheeks. What seemed to have once been beautiful was now hidden under a sunken and emaciated shadow of its original form.
"What are you?" she asked fearfully.
"I—I am an elf," the creature struggled to get the words out, but once they were out she felt more startled than before.
An elf? Of course she had heard of elves, but though many stories she heard had been exciting and wonderful, some had been terrible — and this being did not now look as though it was one of the fair and noble kind she had heard about in the pleasant tales. She backed away once more, looking ready to duck away if he dared try anything.
"Please…" he whispered, noting her reaction, "I will not harm you." That idea, Findel now saw, was truly ridiculous. The elf was lashed to the stake at his waist and chest, his arms were bound behind him and anchored firmly, and a cord was also fastened about his neck. Looking him up and down, her eyes caught the food that had been thrown in for the prisoner — little or none of it seemed to have fallen near enough to reach him — and the gouges in the earth, as if the elf had attempted in vain to wrench himself loose. But even the gouges were old, as if the attempt had been some time ago and long since given up. She felt suddenly a fury towards the Southrons for their cruelty.
"My name is Legolas," he said softly, returning her attention to him.
"I…" she trailed off, looking at him closely once more before speaking, "I am called Findel."
He smiled weakly, "Greetings Findel." He waited for her to speak again, but she seemed unsure of what to say, so he continued, "Tell me, lady, what ill fate finds such a maiden as yourself so—far from her home?" He gave a light moan as he shifted to face her more fully, his thin body sagging against the pole.
"We are prisoners here," she replied, realizing that she had broken away from the tent wall. "Myself and all those in my village." She looked at him again for a moment, "I see you are as well."
The elf called Legolas gave as much of a nod as he could with his neck bound, "Yes, a prisoner…left to die." He added the last quietly, almost distantly.
"Why did they capture you just to let you die?" Findel asked, her compassion rising higher than she knew.
"Fear," Legolas answered after a moment. "Fear of my kind… what we might do." Findel looked at him for a moment, her eyes searching his which were a vibrant blue-gray; they seemed sad, as though some aching wound roiled beneath their calm surface. At last she moved even closer to him and knelt down right beside him.
"Could I not release you?" she asked softly.
He turned to her and some burden in his eyes seemed to lift, but then he shook his head slightly, "Nay, I would not ask that of you, and it would be a hopeless venture. There are more sentries here than you may know, I am in no condition to resist them, and one at least comes each day. They would know my bonds had been tampered with, though they barely pay me heed at all." At this last statement his words turned biting for a moment.
Findel frowned at the ground littered with stale chunks of bread and rotted strips of meat, which filled the tent with their stench. Then her brow furrowed and she scowled at the meager rations that were not even reaching the one who needed them.
"Well at least let me bring you some of my meal," she turned her eyes back up to his with such a firmness that he smiled again.
"If it would please you."
She smiled hesitantly in return, glad that she could do some good in this helpless situation.
"It would," she replied resolutely, then turned to leave.
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Legolas let his head relax against the stake.
At last someone had discovered him here in his tomb. Yet still he despaired; so long he had gone without any hope at all, and now that it was offered to him he was hesitant to trust it.
But the girl had given him more encouragement than he knew and deep inside him something stirred that had remained undefeated these many long weeks past.
Legolas shut his eyes, unconcerned that his pain had been causing him to sleep in this manner often. //It is fortunate for me that he cannot see me doing this//
The sudden notion surprised him for he had not thought of his friend since his capture. He wondered where the man was right now and if he would ever see him again.
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The sun was just beginning to pierce the sky when Thorongil, Nethtalt and Aldor rode into Medui. Much had been accomplished in their absence, but Thorongil took little note of this; fixed as he was on the mission at hand. He slid off Maerhiin even as the horse came to a halt and turned immediately towards the small guardhouse. Nethtalt and Aldor were close behind.
Kelegalen looked up as they entered, his head was bent over something and he looked troubled.
"Nethtalt," he greeted softly, his voice strained. "Are you well?"
"Yes father," Nethtalt replied, confusion evident, "but the village was burned, everyone is gone."
"They have been taken by the Haradrim," Thorongil spoke up quietly from beside Aldor.
"Yes I know," Kelegalen let out a tired breath as he straightened. "This message arrived this morning." He moved around to face them his gaze lingering for a moment on his son, "In no uncertain terms they want their men in exchange for our women and children's safe return. It is to be a trade and they make clear their intentions if we refuse."
Thorongil also glanced at Nethtalt who was staring fixedly at the message. "I have already sent word to King Thengel," Kelegalen continued. "We should receive his reply by this night and will act according to his wishes." Kelegalen looked slowly from his son to Thorongil then finally to Aldor. His voice rose from its quiet tone upon his next words, "In the meanwhile, Aldor, you are welcome to stay in the bunk house in which we reside with the other men. Nethtalt will show you where." Nethtalt nodded numbly and motioned to the boy. Kelegalen waited until both were gone from the guardhouse before he turned to Thorongil once more. "Was the entire village burned?" he asked, his voice quieting once more.
"It is as Nethtalt says," Thorongil replied gravely. "Few buildings stand and none were left untouched." Kelegalen nodded after a moment and returned his eyes to the message. "What do you believe will be the king's reply?" the captain murmured.
"A difficult choice lies before him," Kelegalen answered returning to the table and moving around behind it. "He must choose between the lives of these who are defenseless and the possible release of a one that may be our undoing. We know little of the Southrons' rank and for all we know we hold now a prince of their people or a great general. Furthermore, to give in would show weakness on Thengel's part. These are chances we would normally be unwilling to take; however these women and children cannot be condemned so lightly."
"For the sake of the few or many," Thorongil murmured softly. "It is a difficult decision, but I trust Thengel to make the right choice."
"As do I," Kelegalen agreed. "Were he a tyrant, I would believe our families lost, but Thengel is wise and takes wise council. The trial is to wait and discover what his choice in the end will be."
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Thengel let out a long breath and laid the message on the desk before him, his eyes glancing up to meet those of the marshal. "Free yourself to speak, Bronweg, for I would hear your council on this matter."
Bronweg stood forward slightly, his eyes set upon the message lying before his king. "I need not tell his majesty the gravity of his decision. However this is not an easy matter for me to give council on. I fear it is not my duty to decide the fate of so many innocent ones."
"I would still hear your words, Bronweg, for you are trusted highest here and these are your families — your women and your children. They are under the protection of you and your men. I cannot as easily value them, for my mind is ever restless on the cost of my decision."
Bronweg nodded and after a moment he spoke, "My lord, my words to you would be those of a man who is torn between family and country. I love these people and even now these foreigners hold my younger sister and her family. I fear for her; I would not wish to give her pain. But how many are also my people, and her people? These men and women of Rohan who are under your rule mean not so little to us. We would not see our country fail for the sole sake of our own kin." Bronweg shook his head, "I cannot make this choice for you, my king, I can only tell you what I know; that your people will follow you and honor your decision, whatever it may be."
Thengel's eyes followed the marshal as he took his leave. The king sank down behind his writing table and rested his hand upon its surface. He knew every word Bronweg had spoken was true; this marshal had gained his trust explicitly for this very reason. However, even as he had spoken his brave words, Thengel could see the fear in Bronweg's eyes, a fear that he would lose his sister and never see her again. How many more were enduring that very torment? How could he, as a just king, make a decision that would shatter the hopes of his people? How could he choose death for the innocent? He refused to do this. His people were strong and he knew it was in them to fight whatever danger they might be loosing even in this decision. It was a decision he made with full knowledge of the possible cost, and it was one he was ready to pay.
"Here!" Thengel called, and a messenger moved from the wall. "Send a message to King Harnwe. We will accept his terms."
TBC…