Hey! Hannah (Siri) Here! I *finally* got out of sabercrazy's closet! ;D
Thanks to EVERYONE for the wonderful feedback! You make Sarah and I glow! Really =D Though that may have something to do with our elven lineage! ;D (ha ha. Right. ;)
Anarril: Yeah, but then, caring about individuals is true for many leaders too, it just often causes them a lot of trouble. It's the bad-guys who seriously don't care! Oh don't worry we'll be SURE to blame Cassia. *does her evil authoress grin in Cassia's general direction*
Cali: Thank you! I'm glad you are liking it!
Elwen-Star Maiden: Yup! It's Legolas ;D Clones? Really? ;)
RainyDayz: *laughs* Sorry RainyDayz, but you did quite literally ask for it ;D Oh I am SO glad you like Findel! Wow…quite the interesting prediction there RainyDayz =D Though I'm afraid all I can say is: Read on :D
None: *hums innocently* I refuse to confirm/deny anything at the moment *grins*
Phoenixqueen: Yeah, it's true people don't usually get away with that little trick ;D If the authors don't kill um the readers always do so either way they're dead ;) Glad you're enjoying it!
sabercrazy: Well we'll just have to wait and see what Aragorn thinks ;D
Mercredi: Oh I'm glad you liked the bit about the horse! :D
Larus: *laughs* Don't worry at all Larus! We don't expect long posts, we just appreciate that you read our story and review! :D Oh and I'm glad you enjoyed our 'surprise' =D Okay Thengel's decision. Well, the truth is that Thengel is a man of honor and he knew he could not so easily condemn the lives of defenseless villagers. Then too he did not have any idea that he held Mavranor's brother, he only knew that he had Southron prisoners and in the end it was clear to him that he could not forfeit the lives of innocent people just to keep his hold on the prisoners. Then too, prisoner exchange was fairly common in these sorts of situations, but in those cases it was usually dealing with Prisoners of War not women and children. *grins* Don't worry you're not cruel! And as for happy endings…well, you never know ;D
Lil'layah: Oh I'm glad you liked the horse bit! =D Oh come now we couldn't make it as easy as all that ;D
Asen: Oh I'm glad you're enjoying it that much! :D But I'll get you some more aspirin just the same!
Gwyn: Well that's good that you're liking it Gwyn…I think ;D
w: Oh! *hugs* We do appreciate your reviews! Thank you! Sorry it was horrible ;D Oh I am glad you liked that whole scene! Ah yes…Findel…Oh dear. ;) Okay, well the deal with Findel is that she was originally not going to be so complicated because she didn't have much 'screen time' we'll just say; but somewhere along the line her character began popping up regularly until she has a good deal of time and Sarah and I wound up with the job of maintaining her place OUT of Mary-Sueism. Part of the problem is it's getting VERY hard to write girls at all without people pointing and saying: MARY SUE! Before they see what kind of character she is ;D Also I'm afraid in this case we've got a young blonde which makes matters worse. Unfortunately both of those things could not be helped if we were going to have a Rohirrim Girl be Nethtalt's friend. *sigh* =D And as to her being the only one not to despair, we didn't mean to make it seem that Thalion and Rokhiell *were*, they were just being realistic while Findel went more towards semi-naïve optimism. Also I think it was more that she was the only one actually scouting around, and *that* has more to do with the fact that she's a restless and more than a little impatient; but I can see how that could come out wrong. *laughs* Well, unfortunately a huge zit won't do it for most people! She does have some flaws, but they are unfortunately minor because even her extended screen-time is limited enough that serious development is hard. Guess I'll just have to ask you to bear with us! ;) I'm glad you enjoy our story none the less! And hopefully you'll find her bearable in the end! :D Thank you so much again for your great reviews! And all the helpful critiques! They really are greatly appreciated! :D
Pupulupk: Thank you! I'm glad you are enjoying ;D
Cassia: Hey! Oooh sorry about the review-swallowing-site! That is always annoying! *laughs* Yes well at least YOU didn't have him entirely absent for about 8 chapters! (which, incidentally, we appreciate ;D ) Yes, we sort of let into poor Legolas and only showed the after-shock. Glad you enjoyed it! ;) Oh I am glad you are liking Findel! She's very hard to write with the whole Mary-Sue issue, so it's nice to hear she's not so bad! Oh and I *liked* your Arwen! Yeah, but I know, people had a hard time putting up with a whole chapter with her in it! Ah well. ;) Oooh! You translated them! Yeah, Sarah and I enjoy doing that with Elendor.net, we always like to put certain meanings into the characters, though, actually, I didn't know that was Aldor! Cool! :D And you got them about right so we're not laughing at all! Great job! =D *giggles* No, I think your reviews are really great! Thanks for taking the time! :D *laughs insanely and goes off to poke Chloe!* Haha! Now if she asks why I'm doing it I can say: "Cassia told me to do it!" ;D Thanks again for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying it! =D
Well everyone! I hope you enjoy this post! Now I'll leave before you go crazy! =D
___________________________________________________________________________
/ (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \
Thorongil
By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
/ (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \
Chapter 13
"Thrown Into Chaos."
Thorongil pushed between the men who moved hastily about Medui in preparation, making his way steadily towards the armory. He entered to find Kelegalen sorting weapons, sliding a dagger with horses carved along its handle firmly into its sheath.
"I have heard from Nethtalt," Thorongil said, by way of greeting. "You are to lead the exchange?"
"Yes," Kelegalen confirmed with a grim nod. "Myself and for the Southrons: Brerg, a general, I believe. We have agreed upon the place of the exchange; it is evenly spaced between where we will be stationed and their camp. According to King Harnwe's missive we will each release our prisoners simultaneously and let them pass each other just outside their camp; our men will then lead the women and children to Medui where they will stay for the present, and the Southrons will take their men back to their own camp."
Thorongil nodded; doubtless the Southron was attempting for there to be as little contact between his men and the Rohirrim as possible, but it sounded fraught with complication, and the captain could see by looking at Kelegalen that his friend did not like it any better than he.
"Tension will be running high," the older man said, as though replying to Thorongil's unspoken question. "All it will take is one mistake and all will be thrown into chaos." Kelegalen moved up to him and placed the sheathed dagger in his hand, "Thorongil, I have great faith in all whom I have decided will accompany myself on this venture. I have a great trust in you. If there is to be trouble, we must be the prevention, not the cause."
Thorongil took the knife from Kelegalen's hands and nodded firmly, "I will see to it that your trust is well bestowed."
/ (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \
Brerg ran one hand over his tousled dark hair, a hand that had been browned by sun, calloused by war and been the cause of much bloodshed. He now looked out across the rolling hills of the Wold and an odd, unnerving smile crossed his prematurely lined face. This was the moment for which he had waited; he himself had led the raid and now he was seeing the fruits of his labor. These horsemen would not be a hard people to conquer — simply capture a few women and children and they would crumble to any demands made; it was all too easy.
The Haradrim were an honorable people in battle, they would never make a move like this one under any other circumstances — but even though Brerg was blood Southron through and through, he was unlike them in a single way: he delighted in the bloody fall of his enemies. It was his joy and glory; almost the air he breathed. In his life none stood in his way for long, least of all a nation of insignificant horse herders. He would take pleasure in their defeat, and the magnificence of the land that his monarchs longed for was simply an additional benefit, not a true motivation.
He looked forward now to retrieving Gwanur, a friend whose influence had long aided him. It was largely due to befriending the king's brother-in-law that Brerg owed his current high position. Once Gwanur returned they would be able to prepare an attack on the Wold, one that could not be resisted.
The Lady Mavranor was there herself, awaiting the arrival of her younger brother. Brerg turned a careless eye over the group of captives standing at the very outskirts of the camp. A hard wind had stirred up and it whipped the golden hair of the Rohirrim below — it tugged at the edge of a tent nearby and at last slid out across the plains, on towards the west. His smile broadened and he also turned to look out once more, squinting at the sun above him.
//Soon,// he thought to himself, returning his gaze to the hills. //They will be here very soon.//
/ (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \
Thorongil entered the hold with some difficulty. It had been built against the wall of Medui and was hewn into the ground; the opening was also close to the earth and was not easy to enter: he had to bend his head low to move through. His ears were immediately met by the muted voices of the guards and the soft clink of chains from the prisoner's bonds. He reached the bottom of the steps and turned the corner into the dungeon area of the hold, four cells lined each wall, and between them two Rohirrim guards stood speaking quietly in their own tongue.
"Greetings," Thorongil spoke also in their tongue and they turned to him in surprise.
"Welcome," one responded; the other did not speak. "We did not hear your approach. What brings a captain down to their level?" he asked, gesturing towards the cells.
"I have a message for the current warden of these men," Thorongil explained, preparing to hand the message to the man.
"I am not he, I am Folca," the man refused the message with a brief shake of his head. "Stavhold here is warden."
Thorongil's attention was suddenly drawn to the other man, the one who had not spoken. Now he realized it was indeed Stavhold.
"I am the warden, Captain Thorongil," Stavhold greeted him formally. "Kelegalen told me of your arrival."
"Yes, it is a pleasure to see you well Stavhold."
The Rohirrim nodded slightly, and looked at Thorongil squarely out of his one eye; the other had a leather patch over it and Thorongil knew that it was sightless.
"You also, Captain," Stavhold said, but his voice held obvious discomfort. Thorongil handed him the message then backed away slightly.
"I will take my leave then. Folca," he nodded to the man who gave a nod in return. "Stavhold," Thorongil nodded after a moment, and Stavhold returned the nod, but did not meet his eyes this time.
Thorongil left the hold and stepped out into the sunlight. He let out a breath and watched it dissipate in the cold air. It had not been a pleasant meeting, as it had not been a pleasant parting. Stavhold had been unwilling to join the fight for the freedom of the slaves in Mount Gundabad. Though Thorongil had begged him and Kelegalen had begged him, Stavhold had given in to his fear and despair and would not aid them. Kelegalen clearly trusted Stavhold once more, but even so Thorongil wondered if the man would ever leave the disgrace of his actions behind him — if he would ever be free of his own shame.
/ (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \
The morning was broken as the procession moved out from Medui. Ranks of Southrons walked between the horsemen selected by Kelegalen. Each Rohirrim was stationed to keep the prisoners within their boundaries; they were guarded closely.
What made the sight unusual, though, was that they were seemingly traveling nowhere, over a path that was gently worn across the rolling hills with the only sign of civilization at their backs. Thorongil turned in the saddle once more to stare up at Medui: it was cast with the bright sunrays that stained shadows into the ground around it.
Even at this distance he could see the men moving within its walls, restlessly awaiting the return of their friends and families. Thorongil had known purpose in his life; he had recognized well the worthy aims that were often placed in a soldier's road, the causes that were worth fighting for and the things worth dying for, but never had he felt the weight of his responsibility drive him to such disquiet. He felt unease tighten around his heart and heard the faint whispers of danger playing about him. The sky, though the sun shone brightly, was dusky and gray and seemed to press down on them from above. Even the steed he rode trembled beneath him, as if anxious to bolt. Thorongil lay a reassuring hand on the beast's neck, "Easy, Maerhiin."
The horse quieted under the captain's gentle hand, but Thorongil knew there was no way to stay the apprehensive spirits of the men. He glanced over at Nethtalt who was reining his own horse, Bregol, in closer; the horse was both younger than Maerhiin and also more fiery. Nethtalt's eyes, like those of his mount, darted from the ground ahead, to the prisoners beside him, to his father before him; but even then his eyes continued to stray until they lighted on Thorongil who gave him an reassuring nod. The young man nodded in return, but did not fully relax. There was a threat in the air that could not be ignored.
Thus they pressed on and Thorongil kept his eyes open, alert for danger and ever watchful for their destination.
/ (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \
The wind rustled the grasses, the faint caw of a bird of prey was heard, and somewhere in the distance a horse let out a fierce whinny. Brerg's face lighted with the same strange smile of anticipation once more.
They had arrived.
In another moment the men of Medui crested the hill before the Southron camp and began their descent into the gully beneath. Brerg motioned to his men, giving a curt order in his own tongue, and they too began to descend. The one who ran before the other Rohirrim seemed to be their leader and Brerg silently sized the man up and gave a disdainful grunt; this was all they could send? He motioned his men to a halt at the predetermined place, not a furlong away the Rohirrim also drew up their steeds. For a moment they stared across to one another. Then in a simultaneous motion, Kelegalen and Brerg signaled the groups of prisoners forward.
/ (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \
Maerhiin stirred beneath Thorongil once more and the man steadied him automatically. He squinted his sharp eyes across the low gully to the villagers slowly moving towards them as the Southron prisoners also began to move towards their own people. The captain could see mothers pulling their children close, keeping them near the others.
For several breathtaking moments, the prisoners moved slowly on open ground. Then the air itself seemed to stand still around them as the two groups met in the center and began to move slowly past one another.
Thorongil heard a hoof stamp impatiently, a young child gave a start as she came too near a Southron soldier, all was quiet and the slightest breath of air or impression on the grasses could be heard.
After what seemed an eternity, the two groups neared the end of their passing, the last few Southrons passing by the last few women and children. Thorongil felt his breath come to him once more, as it seemed that all would at last be well.
Then suddenly, one Southron — younger than the others and very close to the rear — twisted around and grabbed a Rohirrim boy roughly by the arm, yanking him out of line. The lad gave a startled cry that shattered the silence. The tension snapped like a worn thread. Chaos broke loose.
At the moment of advantage, the former Southron prisoners bolted for their camp — at the same time snatching Rohirrim women and children, trying to retake them as hostages. This was only allowed to continue for the space of a few heartbeats, however, before Kelegalen's riders dove down into the gully to retake their families. Kelegalen was unable to give a single order before they had all left his side. Each dismounted upon reaching the bottom, so as not to trample any young ones, and drew their weapons. At the top Thorongil and Nethtalt alone stood beside Kelegalen, but he now motioned them forward.
"We must retake them before the Southrons do!" he called. Thorongil followed Kelegalen's lead, but Maerhiin was swifter and reached the bottom of the hill before the other two. Flinging himself from the saddle, Thorongil rushed the Southron nearest him, breaking his grasp on the two children with whom he was attempting to escape and pushing them both towards a woman just behind him. Across from them the captain saw Brerg's men charging down as well to gather up their own men. Thorongil knew they must try to rescue the villagers immediately, for against such reinforcements the Rohirrim would stand little chance.
As the approaching Southrons reached the bottom of the gully, Thorongil was already there and began immediately to set upon them — stalling them before they could even reach the fray. A heavy forward slash laid one out full length, tripping up two others; on the back cut the captain slashed one across the middle, then turned to the next — however, they were coming on too fast and most of the Rohirrim were too busy regathering the villagers. An arrow, buzzing with the strength of its release, struck hard into a Southron's chest, sending him flying back. Thorongil turned in time to see Gálmod loose another arrow, his strong fingers pulling the string back almost to his ear as he fired. Nethtalt's and Kelegalen's praise of his archery had clearly not been misplaced, and the man quickly dispatched two more of the Brerg's men with one shot, then stood and continued to hold many of them at bay.
Thorongil's attention was abruptly drawn back to the villagers — though most of the women and children were now behind Kelegalen and his men's defense, there were still others among the Southrons. He heard Nethtalt calling frantically for Findel and automatically his eyes flicked over the confusion of close-packed bodies for the young maiden. He did not sight her immediately but as he turned to duck the blow of a spear handle aimed at his head, his gaze turned toward the Southrons' camp. A soldier — the one who had disrupted the trade at the start — had her tightly by her arms and was dragging her forcefully away. Without pause, the captain pursued them, his sword drawn as he called over his shoulder. "Nethtalt!"
The young man caught sight of him and started pushing through towards them. But before he had come far, Thorongil had already reached his target.
The Southron was fairly young in years, but his eyes were fierce and his expression defiant. He drew out a dagger and put it to Findel's throat the moment he caught sight of Thorongil.
The girl was giving the Southron a hard struggle, twisting and clawing, but it was doing her no good. The captain moved closer; the young Southron pressed his dagger more firmly to the girl's throat; the time was short. But the Southron's stance was too loose, and Thorongil already knew what course to take. Charging the soldier suddenly he gripped the man's dagger hand and yanked it forcefully away from Findel, prying the girl from the Southron's grasp. Hastily, the captain pushed her away and lunged, bringing the Southron to the ground and sending the soldier's knife skittering into the grass.
For a moment the Southron ceased to struggle and Thorongil let his guard lax. His grip had loosened only a little when he received a knee in the stomach, and reflexively he jerked and fell back a little. The Southron pushed his advantage: slamming his fist hard into the captain's jaw and thrusting his knee again into Thorongil's stomach. The captain fell back a little further, winded by the blow, and the Southron rose, finally able to draw his scimitar. Thorongil was gasping, bent over his knees.
"Look out!" Findel shrieked suddenly and a moment before the Southron scimitar came down on his head, he drew out Kelegalen's dagger and thrust it into the Southron's abdomen, twisting it sharply before releasing it. A look of shock came over the fierce dark eyes and the man dropped his scimitar, staring at the dagger. Then he fell back and struck the ground, dead.
The captain breathed heavily and looked up from the dead man. To his eyes came the briefest sight of a women, high on the hill before him. She was dressed in red and stood out brilliantly against the clear green behind her. Her eyes were fixed on him, dark and cold.
He was startled by her appearance for only a moment, though, before an urgent voice reached him.
"Findel! Findel!" Nethtalt ran up to them and quickly hugged the girl. She returned the embrace, looking near tears of relief. "Are you all right?" Nethtalt asked, his voice breathless from his run as he already began to draw her away.
"I am unhurt," she reassured him and followed for a few paces, then abruptly turned her head back to Thorongil. "Oh! There's another prisoner yet in that tent!"
"Another prisoner?" Thorongil questioned, surprised.
"Aye!" Findel called over her shoulder. "We mustn't leave him!"
"I'll go!" Thorongil called back. He looked out at the crowd of Southrons and Rohirrim. The women and children had all been pulled away from their captors and were now withdrawing quickly from the gully. The Southrons had given up the attempt and were returning with equal speed to their camp.
There was little time. Running swiftly to the tent Findel had indicated, he pushed inside, casting the flap open as he entered. It was dark and for a moment he could not see the prisoner of whom she had spoken.
Then a soft sound drew his eyes to the pole supporting the tent and his heart fell away in the greatest shock he had ever felt in his life.
"Legolas!"
TBC…
Ha! See there they are! In the same place and everything! …right….um… *hides*