Author's Note--Warning--This chapter has an R rating, for violence and attempted rape. That's probably a little high, but I prefer to err on the side of caution. To those who have been kind enough to express to me their sorrow that this is ending--there is at least one more chapter here, and yes, I am writing another Heth story after this, if anyone's interested. Thanks to elizabeth wyeth, for technical consultation, discussion about the perils of the Pelennor, and the really, really neat Heth picture.
This time, as I rode upon the Pelennor, I took the Anorien road, the one that led out the North Gate of the Rammas, and eventually, if taken far enough, passed close by my old home. Most of my previous expeditions had been farther east, out the Osgiliath road, closer to the Harlond. Fortune was fractious, and after we got out the gate, I lifted him into a canter, enjoying the cool evening air on my face. For a while, I toyed with the idea of simply riding onward, not stopping till I came to my old home, or points further North. I had my bow with me, after all, though I'd not brought a waterskin, or any other basic provisions. But my oath to the King constrained me, and it was never more than an idle fancy.
I suspected that the Prince of Dol Amroth and the King had had a very interesting conversation after the picnic. It was the only thing that seemed to explain the sudden shift in my fortunes. Prince Imrahil had appeared to be quite surprised by the King's request, but one did not move in the highest political circles for all of one's life as he had, without developing some rudimentary acting ability. And as I would have been serving him, he would not have wanted me at odds with him. I cursed myself soundly for ever having confided in the man.
What little I had seen of his family, I had liked--they all seemed modest and good-humored, and Faramir had always spoken most fondly of them, and held his visits to Dol Amroth among his dearest childhood memories. But I did not delude myself that I would be spending much time in their company--I was an esquire, not a fosterling. And I knew nothing of Imrahil's captains or armsmasters, the people who would have direct control over my future. The Swan Knights were held to be such an order of excellence that the City Guard were all rather envious, but I'd never spoken at length to any of them about what skills or abilities were required. Familiarity with spearwork while mounted, for certain, and I knew nothing of that, and mounted swordwork as well, and I was just beginning to learn that. Somehow I doubted I'd be getting much archery practice in. Presumably there would be foot fighting, for situations like the Black Gate, where they'd had to leave their horses behind. One thing seemed certain--if I survived the training, I'd be a much better swordswoman when I finished.
But I was already longing for Ithilien--the sun-dappled glades, the little streams that chuckled over their stony beds, the way the scents of the vast variety of herbs and plants rose to your nose when your feet crushed them in passage. Henneth-Anun at dusk. The rabbits, the deer, the birds, all the animals. Though the Ephel Duath was sinister, by virtue of what lay behind the fence of its peaks, the sun on its flanks was nonetheless lovely. The only reason I'd found my stay in Minas Tirith tolerable was that I knew I'd be returning to what had become my home. Even more my home, now that I actually owned a piece of it, but instead of returning, I would be heading in the opposite direction entirely, down to the coast where there were no forests, and the seabirds flew. Two years I would have to spend there, in addition to this two months that had seemed an eternity, and my eyes prickled a little at the thought.
And though initially I had doubted my right or ability to command, over time, I had accustomed myself to the idea that I would have men under me, and I had given much thought as to how I would handle certain situations as they arose, usually using Mablung or Faramir as my best examples of how I should conduct myself. I had actually commanded a squad now, twice, though they'd been City Guardsmen at Lord Hurin's request, and thought I'd not done too badly. Certainly the men had not complained, or given me any trouble. But now that I'd gotten used to the idea, and was actually looking forward to it, I had been denied the opportunity, and had been broken back to the ranks once more. This grated upon me rather more than I had expected.
To be thrown in with complete strangers, too, seemed more a punishment than anything else. I had lost my entire family to the orcs, and over time, had come to feel I had a second family in the Ithilien Rangers. Now I was losing them as well. I was missing Mablung and Lorend, Damrod and Anborn, and all the rest of them already, though I'd not even left yet. And needless to say, I was going to miss Faramir horribly, bittersweet and frustrating as proximity to him was. I wondered if he'd had any knowledge of this decision, or knew that he was the reason for it.
When Fortune finally stopped pulling at the bit, I slowed him to a walk, and looked about me. We were about two miles from the Gate, and there were still scattered camps to either side of me, though the greatest concentration of the military was off to the right. Many of these camps were the people who had come up for the celebration, or the vendors serving them. I knew for a fact that there were two or three families doing a brisk business hauling water up from the River for the camps.
But to my left, along the base of Mindoullin, was a very well organized military camp with a rack of longbows in the center. I recognized the device of the Morthond bowmen, and saw several sitting about a central campfire, and on impulse, drew rein.
"Hail the camp!" I called out, and the bowmen looked up, and one of the older ones smiled, and came over to greet me. They were very tall men, and lanky, clad in green and brown not unlike the Ithilien Rangers, and supposedly very sparing of words. But they were doughty archers, and many of them, including the Lord's two sons, had perished trying to kill the Mumakil on the field of the Pelennor.
"Greetings, Ranger," he said courteously, spying my cloak and the bow. "Feruthil son of Rathan am I."
"Hethlin daughter of Halaran am I," I responded, bowing from my saddle. Feruthil returned the bow.
"The Mumak-slayer? You honor our camp." At my look of surprise, he chuckled. "We joined forces with the Rangers of Ithilien for the journey to the Black Gate, since we fight much alike, and talked much about the campfires in the evening. You were spoken of. Is your horse well-mannered? If so, then you would be welcome at our fire."
"Aye, he's well trained." For all that I had been fleeing the company of my friends, who would be inclined to ask too many personal questions, I found I was not averse to the thought of exchanging a few war stories with some fellow archers. So I slid off of Fortune and led him into the camp, holding him upon a loose rein as I sat down upon a log that had been pulled to the fire to serve as a seat. Nods and grunts of acknowlegment greeted me, and a mug of ale was passed over. I thanked my hosts and took a drink. Fortune nudged his nose into my head, and I poured him a puddle into my hand, which he lapped up happily. Chuckles ran around the camp fire.
"A well-mannered horse, indeed!" exclaimed Feruthil with a laugh. I ruefully wiped my sticky hand on my thigh.
A grim-faced man with white streaks in his black hair nodded to me across the fire. "Duinhir," was all he said by way of introduction, and I stood and bowed. "My lord. My sorrow for your loss."
A brief, sad, wintry smile touched his face. "Aye, they were both good lads. I have a third at home, too young to come with us, Valar be praised. Mayhap now he'll have a chance to grow in peace."
"I certainly hope so." At his somewhat impatient indication that I should sit back down, I did. "I am somewhat surprised to find your people still here, my lord."
"If you'd come two days hence, you wouldn't have. We wait only upon a couple of our wounded who needed to rest before they could make the walk back home. But come, tell us some tales of Ithilien. Tell me something of Mablung, something that I may hold over his head when next we meet." I laughed and began a tale that would more than meet his requirements. Since Mablung probably would not find out about this before I left for the next two years, and it looked as if I would be a much better fighter when we did meet again, I figured I was probably safe enough. Payback for the whole Elrohir business.
I spent a couple of pleasant hours at the Morthond camp, swapping tales, and the moon was well risen when I finally told them farewell. Lord Duinhir walked me to the entrance of the camp.
"Do you go back up this road, Hethlin?" he asked me.
"I had thought to cut to the right across the Pelennor, and then come back up the Osgiliath road. It's a pretty night for a ride." Duinhir frowned.
"Hear the music over there?" he asked. I listened for a moment, and caught a drift of it, pipes and some drums, off to the right. I nodded. "There's a caravan over there, up from Pelargir. Been here about a week. Sailors are their usual prey, I gather. Games of chance, strong drink........women. Unsavory folk. See that you ride around." I promised that I would.
"Should you come to Morthond, you may be sure of a welcome at our hearths."
"And you, should you come to Ithilien, my lord." We parted company most amicably, and I continued my ride under the stars. I let Fortune amble along on a loose rein, lost in my own thoughts for a while, until we turned off the road. And I was careful then, mindful of Lord Duinhir's warning, to give the caravan a wide berth, though I could make it out in the distance, for they had a great bonfire going. More caution in general was called for here, for there were still earthworks and trenches on this section of the field that had not been filled in yet. The ground was so trappy that I was beginning to regret my decision to come this way, and was thinking of turning back, when Fortune suddenly started to limp on his left forefoot. He'd not hit a hole, so I had to assume he'd picked up a stone or some other foreign object. Cursing quietly, I pulled up immediately and dismounted, lifting the hoof and feeling the sole with my fingers, trying to find the offending item, and hoping that it was a stone, and not something sharp and pointed.
Fortune was as lucky as his name, and I had just pulled my dagger and dug the stone out of his hoof when I heard something. We were halted close to one of the trenches, and there were voices coming from down in the bottom of it.
"What did ya want to go and hit him that hard for? Now what're we gonna do?"
"Ahh, ya worry too much! Didn't mean to, but it's easily fixed." There was a splashing sound. "Drank too much, wandered off the wrong direction in the dark, fell in the hole and busted his skull. Happens all the time."
Well, well, this was certainly interesting. It looked as though I'd happened upon some foul play. I carefully set Fortune's foot down, sheathed my dagger, straightened, and pulled Elrohir's bow down off my shoulder. I was stringing it when Fortune turned his head and shifted a little, I heard a tiny rustle behind me and turned--and something slammed into the left side of my head with brutal force. There was an explosion of light behind my eyes, I felt myself falling, and all went dark.
"--some lordling or other, swanning around up here. Good looking horse." The voice was up above me somewhere. "I'll take 'im back to the caravan."
"Best see Tria paints 'im up good," another voice came from quite close by, one of the original ones I'd heard.
"His own mammy won't recognize him by the time she's done," said a third voice, which came with the sound of scrambling footsteps as the owner descended into the trench. "Now you just keep your hands off that swag. Hran and I get first dibs on that--he'd have got the drop on you, he would, had it not been for us."
"Well, we was the bait!" complained a fourth voice, the other original one, only to be answered by a derisive laugh from the third voice.
"Don't even act like you meant to do this, Cy! First you bash the Guardsman so hard he dies, then you let this one sneak up on you. You're lucky I don't take your whole share."
During the time I'd been unconscious, I'd been thrown or fallen down into the trench. I suspected thrown--I'd not been that close to the edge. And I didn't think I'd been out long at all. Aside from the agony in my head, I wasn't in pain anywhere that I could feel, but I didn't seem to be able to move. I hoped I'd not broken my back in the fall. Enough wit remained with me to realize that I didn't want them knowing I'd awakened. So I barely cracked my eyelids, or eyelid--the left one was gummed shut with blood. But I could see nothing, except for the faint glow of a shuttered lantern off to one side, which I was careful not to look at directly, so I could keep what little night vision I had. I could hear footsteps approaching, though, and fought to keep my breathing even and quiet. Someone knelt beside me.
"Still breathing, this one is." The third voice, the one in authority. Probably the most dangerous one. "If he doesn't go in a moment
or two, I'll give him another one. Make it look like they had a fight or something." I felt a hand grasp the Haradrim necklace, and give it a sharp tug. The tug jerked my neck and made pain flare anew in my head, and I was barely able to remain limp and keep from crying out. The hook tore into the back of my neck, then gave way, and third voice examined his booty in the dim light.
"Nice. Wonder who this is. Nice horse, nice necklace--did you get a look at the bow?" I could feel him lean over me for a closer look, then start suddenly. A hand stroked down over my throat, then over my chest hard. It was Elrohir's healing that saved my life in that moment, and during what came after, for thanks to it, I was just able to suppress the panic that would have had me shrieking and revealing myself far too soon.
"Hey, this one's a woman," third voice exclaimed.
"Naw, can't be," first voice replied. Third voice gripped my tunic and the neck of the shirt beneath in his two hands, and gave a mighty yank. The cloth gave way, and I felt his hand touch the flesh beneath. It was all I could do not to turn my head and vomit, but I had to remain still. I needed more time to recover.
"Aye, definitely a woman. The gods are smiling on us tonight!"
"Should we try to keep 'er, take 'er back with us to the caravan?" first voice asked.
"Nay. Someone'd be looking for her," said third voice. "We'll have our fun, then make it look like the Guardsman did it. Everything'll work out fine."
"Well, don't bash 'er yet, then!" whined Cy. Third voice laughed.
"Since when do you care if they're warm or not, Cy? I took her down, so I get first dibs."
I felt, rather than saw third voice loom over me, and waited a moment longer so I knew where his hands were. He was leaning on his left hand, but it was above my shoulder, so it would not impede my arm. When he slid his right into my shirt once more, I made my move, and found to my relief, that I was able to do so. My right hand grasped the hilt of my dagger, drew it and drove it into his body right beneath the sternum. Not as swiftly as I would have wished, or with as much force as I would have liked, but it sufficed. He died without even knowing what had happened to him, and sagged onto me with a final sigh. I felt warmth begin to seep into the front of my tunic.
"So Luhan, how is she?" first voice asked. "Great," I grunted softly, hoping it would pass. I was busy pulling my dagger from Luhan's chest, and shoving it between our two bodies to my left hand, after which my right drew my sword. Then I waited.
Curiosity, or impatience drew first voice over eventually. Perhaps he'd noticed the lack of movement. Cy was right behind him.
"Luhan, if you're done, I want my turn. Whatd'ya do, fall asleep?" He bent over Luhan to touch his shoulder, and I yanked my arm from beneath the body and touched his chest rather deeply with my sword instead. A second body fell upon me, and I made a noise halfway between a growl and a groan, and shoved myself out from beneath them with a great effort.
Cy I had figured as the weakest of the three thieves, and it turned out I was right. He had no weapons with any reach against my long blade, just a short club effective against the drunk and unsuspecting, so he drew a throwing blade from his boot, and tossed. I managed to jerk to one side just enough that it sank into my upper left arm instead of my chest. There was no way he could have anticipated what happened next, as he turned to run, for he did not know of three years of evenings spent in Henneth-Anun or elsewhere, Rangers pegging daggers into log ends, both for amusement and to keep the aiming eye keen.
I drove my sword into the earth of the trench, plucked the dagger from my arm, and tossed it back. It sank into the back of his knee, and as he frantically tried to crawl away from me, I picked up my blade, staggered over to him and drove my sword into his spine. He sank to the ground dead beside the body of the man he'd killed.
I stood victorious on the field of battle amidst my dead enemies, legs shaking, and head spinning. After a moment, I stumbled back over to where Luhan lay, and dropped to my knees slowly. Rolling first voice's body off of him, I found his belt pouch, and reaching within, found my necklace, which I placed in my own pouch. I took only one thing that was not my own--he had a cloak brooch that I used the fasten the slashed edges of my tunic together in a more modest fashion. I then leaned over and retched up onto the ground the ale I'd drunk earlier, thanking the Valar both for my deliverance, and for the fact that I'd not eaten dinner.
Luhan had brought my bow with him into the trench, and I retrieved it, bending over carefully, for such motions made my head spin. Then I made my way over to the Guardsman they'd killed.
He'd been my age, or perhaps even a little younger. Comely enough, but for a newly healed scar on his chin. His eyes were open in surprise. I knelt beside him carefully, and closed them, arranged his limbs more appropriately, and wrapped his cloak about him before he stiffened. Then I said a prayer over him, and left, wondering if I was going to obtain more weregild for him before the night was out. For a rage was building in me the like of which I'd never felt before, and in the back of my rather confused mind, the orc voices and orc laughter mocked me, stronger than they'd been in three years. I stopped to sheathe my sword and dagger, and to finish stringing my bow, which required an effort that almost made me pass out--Elrohir pulled a stronger draw than I did, and my bow arm was injured, though I deemed I could use it, if I didn't hold a draw long. Accuracy might be an issue. I then trudged towards the lights and music of the caravan, to get my horse back.
It was a cheerful enough sight, if you were looking at it from a perspective other than mine. A circle of brightly painted, covered wains enclosed a large central area wherein the bonfire and many torches burned, lighting tables that held cards and other games of chance. A long trestle set up on one side served as a bar, and the wagons served as--well, from the procession of soldiers in and out of them, it was apparent what they served as. The odd scandalously clad woman lounged about the gaming tables, either waiting for customers or urging a current client to spend more of his pay. A trio of musicians played in the corner, adding to the festive air.
A gap between two of the wagons served as a door, and it was towards this that I made my way, my bow nocked. As I came between them, I moved to the left, and put my back against the side of the left-hand wagon, which was covered in wood instead of canvas, careful to keep a distance away from the one small window.
"Men of the Tower of Guard!" I called, but the music and talk were loud, and only those close to me heard me. So I cleared my throat, and though it made my head feel as if it were going to split apart, I yelled. "MEN OF THE TOWER OF GUARD!"
The music ceased. Every eye was fastened upon me, soldier and caravaner alike. A murmur arose as they looked upon me, and when I looked down, I could see why. I looked like I'd been in a slaughterhouse. A rather large individual came out from behind the bar and started towards me with a cudgel, and I drew low and fast and put an arrow into the ground in front of his feet, reassured that I was able to do so, though it hurt my arm horribly. He backed up a couple of paces.
"Are you missing one of your number? A younger man, with a newly healed scar on his chin?" I called out. There was some muttering, and someone from the far side of the enclosure called back, "That's Harthel. He's with my regiment. Why?"
"Because he's dead in a ditch back of the caravan here. Two of these folk slew and robbed him. A third joined with them to try to rape and rob and slay me. They're all three of them dead now. Which you would do well to remember," I called to cudgel man.
There was another low and dangerous muttering amongst the City guardsmen. There were soldiers of other sorts there as well, mostly from the Outland regiments, and they were a rougher looking crew, and looked peevish at having their evening's entertainment interrupted.
"Who are you, to be spoilin' our fun?" shouted one of the Outlanders. It occured to me that I might be over my head here, but I was careful not to let my dismay show.
"She's my captain. Hethlin Blackbow, of the North Ithilien," came a familiar voice, and Lorend stepped out of one of the caravans, still in his court clothes, hitching up hhis breeches, and buckling his sword on. I had never been so glad to see anyone in my life, and forgave him the reason he was here, any trespasses he had done in the past or any he would ever do far into the future. For, appropriately enough in this place, he had gambled that none here knew that I was not in fact a captain, and his ready assertion lent me credibility. I saw a City guardsman at one of the central tables, stir and stand up, and recognized him as one of Lord Hurin's men. He'd been at court that day, and was certainly in the know, but after a moment, he said, "I'll vouch for the lady--she's worked for Lord Hurin this last month, preparing for the crowning."
That was that. The muttering subsided, and another Guardsman asked, "What do you want us to do, Captain?"
Without unknocking my bow, I replied, "I want everyone in the wagons out of the wagons, and I want them here in the middle of the enclosure under guard, as well as anyone else associated with this enterprise." I looked at the Outlanders sternly. "You've got two choices--you can stay and help, or you can leave now, but this establishment is officially closed." There was much grumbling, but slowly they all got up and left, save for a couple from Lossarnach.
"We're missing one of our men too," one of them said grimly, "The captain thought he'd deserted."
"I don't know if these people had anything to do with that or not," I warned them, but the one who'd spoken shook his head.
"Doesn't matter, captain. This is just not right. We fought too hard against the Enemy to come home and be preyed upon by our own kind." His friend nodded assent, and they went to help with the arrests. For a moment, it looked as though the caravaners might resist, but they were outnumbered by the guardsmen two to one, and soon saw the futility of such an action, particularly since their former customers were in a very ugly mood. That did not stop them from complaining and protesting, however, and the loudest was a short, round, swarthy individual, clad in rather floridly colored clothing of a southern cut.
"You have no authority to treat me this way!" he snarled at me, after he'd been brought before me by a couple of the guardsmen. I smiled toothily, and that seemed to unnerve him a bit for some reason. I wondered in passing exactly what my face looked like.
"As a matter of fact, I do," I lied glibly. "Are you the leader of this caravan?" When he nodded his assent, somewhat hesitantly, I thought, I smiled even more broadly, slipped my arrow back into the quiver, shouldered my bow, drew my sword, and held it to his throat. He swallowed convulsively, and a red drop of blood trailed slowly down his neck. Lorend was looking at me uneasily, and he had cause, for the voices were roaring in my brain, but I held control of myself, and simply said, "Then you're just the person I want to talk to. You have my horse, and I want him back."
"I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Wrong answer." I pressed the sword harder against his throat, and he got an interesting pasty grey color. "Warhorse, dark bay, brand new saddle with a green blanket. You seen him?"
"Your excellency would certainly be welcome to look," the man croaked carefully. "He might have wandered in, attracted by our caravan horses."
"Might he have? How fortuitous. Lorend, go and get him. Check if he's sound, and bring him back here."
"Aye, captain." He left me with some hesitation, and the caravan owner did not look happy to see him go. I continued to hold my sword to his throat and smile in what I felt was a pleasant fashion, though he seemed not to find it so.
"You parasite," I said conversationally. "Were it not that my service with Lord Hurin has given me an appreciation for the proper enforcement of the King's writ, I'd gut you where you stand. But please do not make the mistake of thinking my respect for the law will keep me from killing any of your people who give me the least bit of trouble."
"Oh no, your excellency, I don't doubt it in the least!" He swallowed again, and carefully raised his voice. "All of you--do what the soldiers say! No trouble now!"
In a most timely manner, a Ranger-like whistle sounded outside the caravan about then, followed by a rather laconic voice asking, "Do you need any help, Hethlin?" And Duinhir of Morthond, accompanied by six of his men, longbows strung and nocked, sauntered in.
"Heard the music stop, and some kind of disturbance, so we thought we'd come over and see what was going on." He looked me up and down, and frowned. "I thought I told you to stay away from these folks."
"I did, my lord. I was passing them by, way out beyond the second line of earthworks out there when I came across two of them robbing the body of a Guardsman they'd killed. Another one joined them, and they jumped me and took my horse. Things went downhill from there." He nodded his understanding.
"Killed a Guardsman, did they? Bad business. Scum." He gave the caravan owner a penetrating look. The caravan owner cringed.
"What do you want to do about them now? I've got two hundred archers around this encampment. With fire arrows." And he smiled a most unpleasant smile. I lowered my blade, and the caravan owner rubbed his throat and looked at the two of us in terror. "I can guarantee that no one gets in or out without my leave, if that will help."
"That is just what is needed here, my lord. By chance, one of the Rangers was here, he's a good rider, and I'm going to send him up to the Gate to tell the City Guard what's going on. After they get here, you can go to your well-deserved rest."
"Oh, we may linger a bit. Things have been a bit slow in camp." And he smiled another of his chilly smiles, cold as the source of the Blackroot itself. Lorend came to the entrance of the camp with Fortune, looking a bit shaken.
"Whew! Almost got jumped by the bowmen out there--they thought I was trying to steal a horse and get away."
"Sorry, Lorend--I didn't know they were there. This is Lord Duinhir of Morthond. Lord Duinhir, Lorend of Lossarnach. He's one of Mablung's lieutenants." Duinhir nodded, then paused for a moment, then nodded again.
"Oh yes. That one." Lorend looked as if he wanted to ask what Duinhir meant by that, but found the Lord too intimidating to do so.
"Lorend, is Fortune all right?" He nodded assent. "Then get on him, and ride to the Gate. Tell whoever is watch captain what's going on and get some Guardsmen down here."
"Heth, let's both ride up there. You need a healer." He gave me a concerned look, but I shook my head very slowly and carefully. The pain was reaching a truly exquisite level, I was afraid I might throw up again, and wouldn't that be an appropriate display of command ability?
"He'll go faster with you alone, than double. And he's had a hard night."
"And you haven't?"
I took a step closer to him. "Lorend," I murmured quietly to him so Duinhir could not hear. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't want anyone touching me right now."
Lorend thought about this for a moment, then his face hardened, and he nodded grimly. "All right, Heth, have it your way. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Take him up to Dol Amroth, and get a courier horse if you're coming back." He nodded assent, and swung up. I saw a group of bowmen in the outer darkness part for him as he turned Fortune and set out for the Road. Sometime later, a clatter of galloping hooves announced he'd reached it. I searched the crowd, looking for Lord Hurin's man, which took a moment, for my vision would blur every now and again, and when I found him, motioned him over.
"Lord Duinhir, have you got control of things here?" Duinhir nodded. "My thanks for your aid, my lord." He made a noncommital grunt, and I turned to the guardsman.
"Get a couple of your friends, and I'll take you to where I found Harthel. I don't think we should move anything till the other Guardsmen come, but I thought you might want to set a watch over him."
He nodded. "Aye, lady, that is well thought of. There might be other.....scavengers about." The man from Harthel's regiment joined us, as well as a couple of his friends, and we took some torches, and I led the way out back to where I'd been waylaid. One of the bowmen joined us as we passed through their line. I stumbled once or twice over the uneven ground, my perception of which was made worse by the flickering torchlight, but when one of them reached out to steady me, I pulled away and kept going without assistance. When we came to the trench, Lord Hurin's man, who said his name was Morenal, went down with the man from Harthel's regiment to examine the body.
"Aye, it's Harthel," his companion in arms said sadly. "All the way to the Black Gate and back, and this happens to him. Were you the one that set him straight, lady?"
"Aye."
"Well, I thank you for that. I know his family, so I'll take word back to them. Who was it killed him?"
"Those two there." I indicated Cy and first voice. "At least they were the ones with him down there talking about it. To be fair about it, I don't think they intended to do it--they just wanted to rob him, but they hit him too hard. My horse picked up a stone in his foot, and I'd stopped to dig it out when I heard them. Then that fellow--" and I indicated Luhan, "Got the drop on me. There was a fourth, too, a man named Hran. He took my horse back to the camp while the others dealt with me."
"Didn't hit you hard enough, from the looks of things," Morenal said, nudging Luhan's body with his foot.
"By the Valar's grace, no. Then, when he went to finish the job, for they needed to kill me because I knew about them, he discovered I was a woman. They were going to have quite the party." My voice was very dry, and the Morthond bowman chuckled.
"They'd have been safer kissing a mountain cat by the looks of it!"
"Perhaps. If you don't need me any more, gentlemen, I'm going to head on back to the City." The Guardsmen and the bowman all looked at one another.
"Captain, perhaps you should wait till the Guardsmen get here," Moranel suggested gently. "You took quite a blow on the head--there's blood all down your face. You could get a ride back up with someone. It's more than two miles to the Gate."
"I want my bed, and I don't want to ride--it'll make me dizzy. I'll manage." I was suddenly possessed of an absolutely mulish desire to get to my room and lock myself in. Part of it at least was that I was certain if I stopped moving, I was going to go down, and in my current state of mind, I didn't want to do that in the presence of strangers, even strangers I thought were reasonably trustworthy.
The men all exchanged meaningful glances once more, then the bowman said, "I'll go with her. The Lord said to keep an eye out for her. And it may not be such a bad idea at that--I hear tell it's not too good to sleep right after you get bashed on the head. By the time we get up to the City, it'll probably be safe for her to rest."
"That's a long walk for you, bowman," one of the other Guardsmen noted. The bowman just laughed. "Five miles? We call that a morning stroll in Morthond Vale." With no further ado, he started to stride off towards the road. I waved to the Guardsmen, and followed.
The Morthond bowman was a considerate man, and shortened his long stride to accomodate me. He warned me of potential obstacles in my path, but did not try to take my arm, or touch me in any way, having apparently realized from our trip to the trench that I was not happy with such attempts. He told me his name was Tedryn, and at my request, spoke to me at some length about his family and his home. His descriptions of the tree-shadowed upland glens of Morthond were simple but lyrical, and they soothed me somewhat. We were a little way up the Road before he asked me in my turn about Ithilien, but that was harder for me--I would start to describe something, lose my train of thought and trail off into silence until he asked another question. But he was patient, and persistent, and he kept me going. I do not believe I could have gotten anywhere as far alone as I did in his company.
We were perhaps a mile up the road when a troop of mounted Guardsmen thundered past, and almost to the Gate when we encountered Lorend, riding one courier mount and leading another.
"Heth! Are you out of your mind? No, wait-- I suppose you must be." He glared at Tedryn, who shrugged.
"Said she wanted to walk back. Didn't want her walking alone. Says riding makes her dizzy." Lorend nodded, somewhat mollified.
"Well, thank you for not leaving her alone. And thank your lord for all his help."
Tedryn grinned. "No thanks necessary, Ranger--it was getting a little boring, sitting around all the time. We'd fletched all the arrows we could fletch." He bowed, and departed back the way he had come. Lorend looked at me where I stood swaying a little in the Road and grimaced.
"Heth, I don't care if it makes you dizzy or not, you're going to get on this horse. I'll hold the reins, and all you have to do is hold on. If you start to fall off, I'll catch you. There's no way you can manage the uphill climb in the shape you're in. So you can either climb up on that horse by yourself, or let me help you without killing me. What's it going to be?"
"I'll climb up, Lorend," I whispered. "I'll try to ride." I moved slowly over to the courier horse, put my foot in the stirrup, hauled myself up mostly with my right arm, and when I'd seated myself in the saddle, bent over and dry heaved down the horse's neck. He was not thrilled with this development, so it was just as well Lorend had a hold of him.
"Oh, Heth. You just hold on and I'll get you home. You got a good hold now?"
"Aye, Lorend." I twined my fingers into the mane before me like the veriest beginner, and held on. The clops of hooves on the pavement rang loud in my ears, and the torchlight and lamps of various establishments blurred in my vision. The everlasting celebration that had been in effect since Elessar's crowning was still going on, though since it was the wee hours of the morning, it was as subdued as it got. Still, there were many more people on the street than would have been usual for this time of night, and in the lower levels, we had to backtrack from time to time to make our way around them.
Things cleared out when we made the upper levels, as they always did, and Lorend started to take me to the Houses of Healing when we reached the second circle, but I stopped him.
"Please, Lorend, just take me to my room."
"Heth, you really need a healer." He started the horses forward again, and I pulled my feet from the stirrups and slid down. I dry-heaved once more when I hit the ground.
"Heth, what do you think you are doing?"
"Going to my room. I want my room. I promise you I'll see a healer in the morning when my head is clearer." I began to stagger towards the Citadel. Cursing, he rode after me.
"That is the silliest thing I ever heard! You need a healer because your head isn't clear!"
I continued on my way. "Lorend, if one of those healers touches me, I'm going to hurt him. If you touch me, I'll hurt you. All I can hear is orcs right now, understand? Maybe after I get some sleep, I'll be better. I'll try, at any rate." He gave it up for a lost cause, and followed me, cursing in a continuous litany under his breath. When we reached the courier stable I waited as he kicked the night groom awake, and gave him the horses. Then we continued into the Citadel courtyard. The courtiers had mostly turned in for the night, but there were a few people out there. Lorend steered us well around them, and made for the kitchen entrance.
When we came in the door, and the night staff saw me, there were shrieks, and the sound of breaking crockery. Lorend wasted no sympathy on them.
"That kettle on the stove over there hot?" A kitchen maid nodded. "Put a towel around the handle and give it to me. And give me some more clean towels, and any strong drink you've got lying about." The requested items appeared as if by magic, and we went swiftly on our way, which was, I think, the point of all the cooperation. When we came to my room, Lorend asked me for my key, and opened the door with some difficulty, the kitchen things tucked awkwardly under his arm, and the tea kettle in his other hand.
"Where's the dratted lamp?"
"On the mantle." He moved to the fireplace, set his kitchen spoils down, poked the fire up, lit a spill and then the lamp. Then he carried the kitchen things over to the washstand, and poured the hot water into the basin, and some of the cold from the pitcher. I shut the door behind us, and came over to the washstand.
"Here you go, Heth. Hot but not too hot. You want me to help?" His expression showed he already knew the answer to that one, but was asking it for politeness' sake.
"No."
"Where are you hurt?"
"My head and my arm. Took a throwing knife in the arm." I picked up a towel with trembling hands, dipped it in the water, and began patting at the side of my face. It was a white towel, and it came away reddened.
"How bad?"
"Deep, but not bad. You saw me shoot." I continued to dab at myself rather ineffectively, and bloody water dripped down my neck. I saw Lorend start to reach for me, and change his mind at the look on my face.
"Heth, did they rape you?" he asked after a while, very quietly.
"No, but they were going to. Rape me, and kill me. I had to let the first one get close, right on top of me, so I could get a blow in on him. The other two were easier." I gave up on the head wound, shoved the sleeve far enough up my arm to clean the arm wound, dabbed at it a bit with the hot water and the liquor, which made me wince, and gave up on it as well.
"That's enough for now. I'll do a better job in the morning." I looked at the bed for a moment.
"Heth, you need to get those bloody clothes off."
"I'll do that in the morning too."
"Heth, it is the morning."
"You know what I mean......late morning." I decided that I did not want to mess up my bed after all, so I pulled the blanket off of it, drew my cloak around me, draped the blanket over that, and drew it around me, then sat down with my back to the wall beside the bed.
"For Valar's sake, sleep in the bed at least!"
"Don't want to mess the sheets up. I'll be fine. Throw a log on the fire, and you can leave."
"I'm not going anywhere. I'll sleep on the bed if you won't."
"Whatever you like, Lorend--just don't come near me while I'm asleep. I won't be responsible for what happens."
I couldn't get comfortable with my sword dragging against the wall, so I shifted the belt around till it lay across my lap, settled back against the wall and finally let the darkness take me. The last thing I heard was Lorend settling, not onto the bed but dragging my one hard wooden chair over to the fire, and muttering, " I can't deal with this."
This time, as I rode upon the Pelennor, I took the Anorien road, the one that led out the North Gate of the Rammas, and eventually, if taken far enough, passed close by my old home. Most of my previous expeditions had been farther east, out the Osgiliath road, closer to the Harlond. Fortune was fractious, and after we got out the gate, I lifted him into a canter, enjoying the cool evening air on my face. For a while, I toyed with the idea of simply riding onward, not stopping till I came to my old home, or points further North. I had my bow with me, after all, though I'd not brought a waterskin, or any other basic provisions. But my oath to the King constrained me, and it was never more than an idle fancy.
I suspected that the Prince of Dol Amroth and the King had had a very interesting conversation after the picnic. It was the only thing that seemed to explain the sudden shift in my fortunes. Prince Imrahil had appeared to be quite surprised by the King's request, but one did not move in the highest political circles for all of one's life as he had, without developing some rudimentary acting ability. And as I would have been serving him, he would not have wanted me at odds with him. I cursed myself soundly for ever having confided in the man.
What little I had seen of his family, I had liked--they all seemed modest and good-humored, and Faramir had always spoken most fondly of them, and held his visits to Dol Amroth among his dearest childhood memories. But I did not delude myself that I would be spending much time in their company--I was an esquire, not a fosterling. And I knew nothing of Imrahil's captains or armsmasters, the people who would have direct control over my future. The Swan Knights were held to be such an order of excellence that the City Guard were all rather envious, but I'd never spoken at length to any of them about what skills or abilities were required. Familiarity with spearwork while mounted, for certain, and I knew nothing of that, and mounted swordwork as well, and I was just beginning to learn that. Somehow I doubted I'd be getting much archery practice in. Presumably there would be foot fighting, for situations like the Black Gate, where they'd had to leave their horses behind. One thing seemed certain--if I survived the training, I'd be a much better swordswoman when I finished.
But I was already longing for Ithilien--the sun-dappled glades, the little streams that chuckled over their stony beds, the way the scents of the vast variety of herbs and plants rose to your nose when your feet crushed them in passage. Henneth-Anun at dusk. The rabbits, the deer, the birds, all the animals. Though the Ephel Duath was sinister, by virtue of what lay behind the fence of its peaks, the sun on its flanks was nonetheless lovely. The only reason I'd found my stay in Minas Tirith tolerable was that I knew I'd be returning to what had become my home. Even more my home, now that I actually owned a piece of it, but instead of returning, I would be heading in the opposite direction entirely, down to the coast where there were no forests, and the seabirds flew. Two years I would have to spend there, in addition to this two months that had seemed an eternity, and my eyes prickled a little at the thought.
And though initially I had doubted my right or ability to command, over time, I had accustomed myself to the idea that I would have men under me, and I had given much thought as to how I would handle certain situations as they arose, usually using Mablung or Faramir as my best examples of how I should conduct myself. I had actually commanded a squad now, twice, though they'd been City Guardsmen at Lord Hurin's request, and thought I'd not done too badly. Certainly the men had not complained, or given me any trouble. But now that I'd gotten used to the idea, and was actually looking forward to it, I had been denied the opportunity, and had been broken back to the ranks once more. This grated upon me rather more than I had expected.
To be thrown in with complete strangers, too, seemed more a punishment than anything else. I had lost my entire family to the orcs, and over time, had come to feel I had a second family in the Ithilien Rangers. Now I was losing them as well. I was missing Mablung and Lorend, Damrod and Anborn, and all the rest of them already, though I'd not even left yet. And needless to say, I was going to miss Faramir horribly, bittersweet and frustrating as proximity to him was. I wondered if he'd had any knowledge of this decision, or knew that he was the reason for it.
When Fortune finally stopped pulling at the bit, I slowed him to a walk, and looked about me. We were about two miles from the Gate, and there were still scattered camps to either side of me, though the greatest concentration of the military was off to the right. Many of these camps were the people who had come up for the celebration, or the vendors serving them. I knew for a fact that there were two or three families doing a brisk business hauling water up from the River for the camps.
But to my left, along the base of Mindoullin, was a very well organized military camp with a rack of longbows in the center. I recognized the device of the Morthond bowmen, and saw several sitting about a central campfire, and on impulse, drew rein.
"Hail the camp!" I called out, and the bowmen looked up, and one of the older ones smiled, and came over to greet me. They were very tall men, and lanky, clad in green and brown not unlike the Ithilien Rangers, and supposedly very sparing of words. But they were doughty archers, and many of them, including the Lord's two sons, had perished trying to kill the Mumakil on the field of the Pelennor.
"Greetings, Ranger," he said courteously, spying my cloak and the bow. "Feruthil son of Rathan am I."
"Hethlin daughter of Halaran am I," I responded, bowing from my saddle. Feruthil returned the bow.
"The Mumak-slayer? You honor our camp." At my look of surprise, he chuckled. "We joined forces with the Rangers of Ithilien for the journey to the Black Gate, since we fight much alike, and talked much about the campfires in the evening. You were spoken of. Is your horse well-mannered? If so, then you would be welcome at our fire."
"Aye, he's well trained." For all that I had been fleeing the company of my friends, who would be inclined to ask too many personal questions, I found I was not averse to the thought of exchanging a few war stories with some fellow archers. So I slid off of Fortune and led him into the camp, holding him upon a loose rein as I sat down upon a log that had been pulled to the fire to serve as a seat. Nods and grunts of acknowlegment greeted me, and a mug of ale was passed over. I thanked my hosts and took a drink. Fortune nudged his nose into my head, and I poured him a puddle into my hand, which he lapped up happily. Chuckles ran around the camp fire.
"A well-mannered horse, indeed!" exclaimed Feruthil with a laugh. I ruefully wiped my sticky hand on my thigh.
A grim-faced man with white streaks in his black hair nodded to me across the fire. "Duinhir," was all he said by way of introduction, and I stood and bowed. "My lord. My sorrow for your loss."
A brief, sad, wintry smile touched his face. "Aye, they were both good lads. I have a third at home, too young to come with us, Valar be praised. Mayhap now he'll have a chance to grow in peace."
"I certainly hope so." At his somewhat impatient indication that I should sit back down, I did. "I am somewhat surprised to find your people still here, my lord."
"If you'd come two days hence, you wouldn't have. We wait only upon a couple of our wounded who needed to rest before they could make the walk back home. But come, tell us some tales of Ithilien. Tell me something of Mablung, something that I may hold over his head when next we meet." I laughed and began a tale that would more than meet his requirements. Since Mablung probably would not find out about this before I left for the next two years, and it looked as if I would be a much better fighter when we did meet again, I figured I was probably safe enough. Payback for the whole Elrohir business.
I spent a couple of pleasant hours at the Morthond camp, swapping tales, and the moon was well risen when I finally told them farewell. Lord Duinhir walked me to the entrance of the camp.
"Do you go back up this road, Hethlin?" he asked me.
"I had thought to cut to the right across the Pelennor, and then come back up the Osgiliath road. It's a pretty night for a ride." Duinhir frowned.
"Hear the music over there?" he asked. I listened for a moment, and caught a drift of it, pipes and some drums, off to the right. I nodded. "There's a caravan over there, up from Pelargir. Been here about a week. Sailors are their usual prey, I gather. Games of chance, strong drink........women. Unsavory folk. See that you ride around." I promised that I would.
"Should you come to Morthond, you may be sure of a welcome at our hearths."
"And you, should you come to Ithilien, my lord." We parted company most amicably, and I continued my ride under the stars. I let Fortune amble along on a loose rein, lost in my own thoughts for a while, until we turned off the road. And I was careful then, mindful of Lord Duinhir's warning, to give the caravan a wide berth, though I could make it out in the distance, for they had a great bonfire going. More caution in general was called for here, for there were still earthworks and trenches on this section of the field that had not been filled in yet. The ground was so trappy that I was beginning to regret my decision to come this way, and was thinking of turning back, when Fortune suddenly started to limp on his left forefoot. He'd not hit a hole, so I had to assume he'd picked up a stone or some other foreign object. Cursing quietly, I pulled up immediately and dismounted, lifting the hoof and feeling the sole with my fingers, trying to find the offending item, and hoping that it was a stone, and not something sharp and pointed.
Fortune was as lucky as his name, and I had just pulled my dagger and dug the stone out of his hoof when I heard something. We were halted close to one of the trenches, and there were voices coming from down in the bottom of it.
"What did ya want to go and hit him that hard for? Now what're we gonna do?"
"Ahh, ya worry too much! Didn't mean to, but it's easily fixed." There was a splashing sound. "Drank too much, wandered off the wrong direction in the dark, fell in the hole and busted his skull. Happens all the time."
Well, well, this was certainly interesting. It looked as though I'd happened upon some foul play. I carefully set Fortune's foot down, sheathed my dagger, straightened, and pulled Elrohir's bow down off my shoulder. I was stringing it when Fortune turned his head and shifted a little, I heard a tiny rustle behind me and turned--and something slammed into the left side of my head with brutal force. There was an explosion of light behind my eyes, I felt myself falling, and all went dark.
"--some lordling or other, swanning around up here. Good looking horse." The voice was up above me somewhere. "I'll take 'im back to the caravan."
"Best see Tria paints 'im up good," another voice came from quite close by, one of the original ones I'd heard.
"His own mammy won't recognize him by the time she's done," said a third voice, which came with the sound of scrambling footsteps as the owner descended into the trench. "Now you just keep your hands off that swag. Hran and I get first dibs on that--he'd have got the drop on you, he would, had it not been for us."
"Well, we was the bait!" complained a fourth voice, the other original one, only to be answered by a derisive laugh from the third voice.
"Don't even act like you meant to do this, Cy! First you bash the Guardsman so hard he dies, then you let this one sneak up on you. You're lucky I don't take your whole share."
During the time I'd been unconscious, I'd been thrown or fallen down into the trench. I suspected thrown--I'd not been that close to the edge. And I didn't think I'd been out long at all. Aside from the agony in my head, I wasn't in pain anywhere that I could feel, but I didn't seem to be able to move. I hoped I'd not broken my back in the fall. Enough wit remained with me to realize that I didn't want them knowing I'd awakened. So I barely cracked my eyelids, or eyelid--the left one was gummed shut with blood. But I could see nothing, except for the faint glow of a shuttered lantern off to one side, which I was careful not to look at directly, so I could keep what little night vision I had. I could hear footsteps approaching, though, and fought to keep my breathing even and quiet. Someone knelt beside me.
"Still breathing, this one is." The third voice, the one in authority. Probably the most dangerous one. "If he doesn't go in a moment
or two, I'll give him another one. Make it look like they had a fight or something." I felt a hand grasp the Haradrim necklace, and give it a sharp tug. The tug jerked my neck and made pain flare anew in my head, and I was barely able to remain limp and keep from crying out. The hook tore into the back of my neck, then gave way, and third voice examined his booty in the dim light.
"Nice. Wonder who this is. Nice horse, nice necklace--did you get a look at the bow?" I could feel him lean over me for a closer look, then start suddenly. A hand stroked down over my throat, then over my chest hard. It was Elrohir's healing that saved my life in that moment, and during what came after, for thanks to it, I was just able to suppress the panic that would have had me shrieking and revealing myself far too soon.
"Hey, this one's a woman," third voice exclaimed.
"Naw, can't be," first voice replied. Third voice gripped my tunic and the neck of the shirt beneath in his two hands, and gave a mighty yank. The cloth gave way, and I felt his hand touch the flesh beneath. It was all I could do not to turn my head and vomit, but I had to remain still. I needed more time to recover.
"Aye, definitely a woman. The gods are smiling on us tonight!"
"Should we try to keep 'er, take 'er back with us to the caravan?" first voice asked.
"Nay. Someone'd be looking for her," said third voice. "We'll have our fun, then make it look like the Guardsman did it. Everything'll work out fine."
"Well, don't bash 'er yet, then!" whined Cy. Third voice laughed.
"Since when do you care if they're warm or not, Cy? I took her down, so I get first dibs."
I felt, rather than saw third voice loom over me, and waited a moment longer so I knew where his hands were. He was leaning on his left hand, but it was above my shoulder, so it would not impede my arm. When he slid his right into my shirt once more, I made my move, and found to my relief, that I was able to do so. My right hand grasped the hilt of my dagger, drew it and drove it into his body right beneath the sternum. Not as swiftly as I would have wished, or with as much force as I would have liked, but it sufficed. He died without even knowing what had happened to him, and sagged onto me with a final sigh. I felt warmth begin to seep into the front of my tunic.
"So Luhan, how is she?" first voice asked. "Great," I grunted softly, hoping it would pass. I was busy pulling my dagger from Luhan's chest, and shoving it between our two bodies to my left hand, after which my right drew my sword. Then I waited.
Curiosity, or impatience drew first voice over eventually. Perhaps he'd noticed the lack of movement. Cy was right behind him.
"Luhan, if you're done, I want my turn. Whatd'ya do, fall asleep?" He bent over Luhan to touch his shoulder, and I yanked my arm from beneath the body and touched his chest rather deeply with my sword instead. A second body fell upon me, and I made a noise halfway between a growl and a groan, and shoved myself out from beneath them with a great effort.
Cy I had figured as the weakest of the three thieves, and it turned out I was right. He had no weapons with any reach against my long blade, just a short club effective against the drunk and unsuspecting, so he drew a throwing blade from his boot, and tossed. I managed to jerk to one side just enough that it sank into my upper left arm instead of my chest. There was no way he could have anticipated what happened next, as he turned to run, for he did not know of three years of evenings spent in Henneth-Anun or elsewhere, Rangers pegging daggers into log ends, both for amusement and to keep the aiming eye keen.
I drove my sword into the earth of the trench, plucked the dagger from my arm, and tossed it back. It sank into the back of his knee, and as he frantically tried to crawl away from me, I picked up my blade, staggered over to him and drove my sword into his spine. He sank to the ground dead beside the body of the man he'd killed.
I stood victorious on the field of battle amidst my dead enemies, legs shaking, and head spinning. After a moment, I stumbled back over to where Luhan lay, and dropped to my knees slowly. Rolling first voice's body off of him, I found his belt pouch, and reaching within, found my necklace, which I placed in my own pouch. I took only one thing that was not my own--he had a cloak brooch that I used the fasten the slashed edges of my tunic together in a more modest fashion. I then leaned over and retched up onto the ground the ale I'd drunk earlier, thanking the Valar both for my deliverance, and for the fact that I'd not eaten dinner.
Luhan had brought my bow with him into the trench, and I retrieved it, bending over carefully, for such motions made my head spin. Then I made my way over to the Guardsman they'd killed.
He'd been my age, or perhaps even a little younger. Comely enough, but for a newly healed scar on his chin. His eyes were open in surprise. I knelt beside him carefully, and closed them, arranged his limbs more appropriately, and wrapped his cloak about him before he stiffened. Then I said a prayer over him, and left, wondering if I was going to obtain more weregild for him before the night was out. For a rage was building in me the like of which I'd never felt before, and in the back of my rather confused mind, the orc voices and orc laughter mocked me, stronger than they'd been in three years. I stopped to sheathe my sword and dagger, and to finish stringing my bow, which required an effort that almost made me pass out--Elrohir pulled a stronger draw than I did, and my bow arm was injured, though I deemed I could use it, if I didn't hold a draw long. Accuracy might be an issue. I then trudged towards the lights and music of the caravan, to get my horse back.
It was a cheerful enough sight, if you were looking at it from a perspective other than mine. A circle of brightly painted, covered wains enclosed a large central area wherein the bonfire and many torches burned, lighting tables that held cards and other games of chance. A long trestle set up on one side served as a bar, and the wagons served as--well, from the procession of soldiers in and out of them, it was apparent what they served as. The odd scandalously clad woman lounged about the gaming tables, either waiting for customers or urging a current client to spend more of his pay. A trio of musicians played in the corner, adding to the festive air.
A gap between two of the wagons served as a door, and it was towards this that I made my way, my bow nocked. As I came between them, I moved to the left, and put my back against the side of the left-hand wagon, which was covered in wood instead of canvas, careful to keep a distance away from the one small window.
"Men of the Tower of Guard!" I called, but the music and talk were loud, and only those close to me heard me. So I cleared my throat, and though it made my head feel as if it were going to split apart, I yelled. "MEN OF THE TOWER OF GUARD!"
The music ceased. Every eye was fastened upon me, soldier and caravaner alike. A murmur arose as they looked upon me, and when I looked down, I could see why. I looked like I'd been in a slaughterhouse. A rather large individual came out from behind the bar and started towards me with a cudgel, and I drew low and fast and put an arrow into the ground in front of his feet, reassured that I was able to do so, though it hurt my arm horribly. He backed up a couple of paces.
"Are you missing one of your number? A younger man, with a newly healed scar on his chin?" I called out. There was some muttering, and someone from the far side of the enclosure called back, "That's Harthel. He's with my regiment. Why?"
"Because he's dead in a ditch back of the caravan here. Two of these folk slew and robbed him. A third joined with them to try to rape and rob and slay me. They're all three of them dead now. Which you would do well to remember," I called to cudgel man.
There was another low and dangerous muttering amongst the City guardsmen. There were soldiers of other sorts there as well, mostly from the Outland regiments, and they were a rougher looking crew, and looked peevish at having their evening's entertainment interrupted.
"Who are you, to be spoilin' our fun?" shouted one of the Outlanders. It occured to me that I might be over my head here, but I was careful not to let my dismay show.
"She's my captain. Hethlin Blackbow, of the North Ithilien," came a familiar voice, and Lorend stepped out of one of the caravans, still in his court clothes, hitching up hhis breeches, and buckling his sword on. I had never been so glad to see anyone in my life, and forgave him the reason he was here, any trespasses he had done in the past or any he would ever do far into the future. For, appropriately enough in this place, he had gambled that none here knew that I was not in fact a captain, and his ready assertion lent me credibility. I saw a City guardsman at one of the central tables, stir and stand up, and recognized him as one of Lord Hurin's men. He'd been at court that day, and was certainly in the know, but after a moment, he said, "I'll vouch for the lady--she's worked for Lord Hurin this last month, preparing for the crowning."
That was that. The muttering subsided, and another Guardsman asked, "What do you want us to do, Captain?"
Without unknocking my bow, I replied, "I want everyone in the wagons out of the wagons, and I want them here in the middle of the enclosure under guard, as well as anyone else associated with this enterprise." I looked at the Outlanders sternly. "You've got two choices--you can stay and help, or you can leave now, but this establishment is officially closed." There was much grumbling, but slowly they all got up and left, save for a couple from Lossarnach.
"We're missing one of our men too," one of them said grimly, "The captain thought he'd deserted."
"I don't know if these people had anything to do with that or not," I warned them, but the one who'd spoken shook his head.
"Doesn't matter, captain. This is just not right. We fought too hard against the Enemy to come home and be preyed upon by our own kind." His friend nodded assent, and they went to help with the arrests. For a moment, it looked as though the caravaners might resist, but they were outnumbered by the guardsmen two to one, and soon saw the futility of such an action, particularly since their former customers were in a very ugly mood. That did not stop them from complaining and protesting, however, and the loudest was a short, round, swarthy individual, clad in rather floridly colored clothing of a southern cut.
"You have no authority to treat me this way!" he snarled at me, after he'd been brought before me by a couple of the guardsmen. I smiled toothily, and that seemed to unnerve him a bit for some reason. I wondered in passing exactly what my face looked like.
"As a matter of fact, I do," I lied glibly. "Are you the leader of this caravan?" When he nodded his assent, somewhat hesitantly, I thought, I smiled even more broadly, slipped my arrow back into the quiver, shouldered my bow, drew my sword, and held it to his throat. He swallowed convulsively, and a red drop of blood trailed slowly down his neck. Lorend was looking at me uneasily, and he had cause, for the voices were roaring in my brain, but I held control of myself, and simply said, "Then you're just the person I want to talk to. You have my horse, and I want him back."
"I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Wrong answer." I pressed the sword harder against his throat, and he got an interesting pasty grey color. "Warhorse, dark bay, brand new saddle with a green blanket. You seen him?"
"Your excellency would certainly be welcome to look," the man croaked carefully. "He might have wandered in, attracted by our caravan horses."
"Might he have? How fortuitous. Lorend, go and get him. Check if he's sound, and bring him back here."
"Aye, captain." He left me with some hesitation, and the caravan owner did not look happy to see him go. I continued to hold my sword to his throat and smile in what I felt was a pleasant fashion, though he seemed not to find it so.
"You parasite," I said conversationally. "Were it not that my service with Lord Hurin has given me an appreciation for the proper enforcement of the King's writ, I'd gut you where you stand. But please do not make the mistake of thinking my respect for the law will keep me from killing any of your people who give me the least bit of trouble."
"Oh no, your excellency, I don't doubt it in the least!" He swallowed again, and carefully raised his voice. "All of you--do what the soldiers say! No trouble now!"
In a most timely manner, a Ranger-like whistle sounded outside the caravan about then, followed by a rather laconic voice asking, "Do you need any help, Hethlin?" And Duinhir of Morthond, accompanied by six of his men, longbows strung and nocked, sauntered in.
"Heard the music stop, and some kind of disturbance, so we thought we'd come over and see what was going on." He looked me up and down, and frowned. "I thought I told you to stay away from these folks."
"I did, my lord. I was passing them by, way out beyond the second line of earthworks out there when I came across two of them robbing the body of a Guardsman they'd killed. Another one joined them, and they jumped me and took my horse. Things went downhill from there." He nodded his understanding.
"Killed a Guardsman, did they? Bad business. Scum." He gave the caravan owner a penetrating look. The caravan owner cringed.
"What do you want to do about them now? I've got two hundred archers around this encampment. With fire arrows." And he smiled a most unpleasant smile. I lowered my blade, and the caravan owner rubbed his throat and looked at the two of us in terror. "I can guarantee that no one gets in or out without my leave, if that will help."
"That is just what is needed here, my lord. By chance, one of the Rangers was here, he's a good rider, and I'm going to send him up to the Gate to tell the City Guard what's going on. After they get here, you can go to your well-deserved rest."
"Oh, we may linger a bit. Things have been a bit slow in camp." And he smiled another of his chilly smiles, cold as the source of the Blackroot itself. Lorend came to the entrance of the camp with Fortune, looking a bit shaken.
"Whew! Almost got jumped by the bowmen out there--they thought I was trying to steal a horse and get away."
"Sorry, Lorend--I didn't know they were there. This is Lord Duinhir of Morthond. Lord Duinhir, Lorend of Lossarnach. He's one of Mablung's lieutenants." Duinhir nodded, then paused for a moment, then nodded again.
"Oh yes. That one." Lorend looked as if he wanted to ask what Duinhir meant by that, but found the Lord too intimidating to do so.
"Lorend, is Fortune all right?" He nodded assent. "Then get on him, and ride to the Gate. Tell whoever is watch captain what's going on and get some Guardsmen down here."
"Heth, let's both ride up there. You need a healer." He gave me a concerned look, but I shook my head very slowly and carefully. The pain was reaching a truly exquisite level, I was afraid I might throw up again, and wouldn't that be an appropriate display of command ability?
"He'll go faster with you alone, than double. And he's had a hard night."
"And you haven't?"
I took a step closer to him. "Lorend," I murmured quietly to him so Duinhir could not hear. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't want anyone touching me right now."
Lorend thought about this for a moment, then his face hardened, and he nodded grimly. "All right, Heth, have it your way. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Take him up to Dol Amroth, and get a courier horse if you're coming back." He nodded assent, and swung up. I saw a group of bowmen in the outer darkness part for him as he turned Fortune and set out for the Road. Sometime later, a clatter of galloping hooves announced he'd reached it. I searched the crowd, looking for Lord Hurin's man, which took a moment, for my vision would blur every now and again, and when I found him, motioned him over.
"Lord Duinhir, have you got control of things here?" Duinhir nodded. "My thanks for your aid, my lord." He made a noncommital grunt, and I turned to the guardsman.
"Get a couple of your friends, and I'll take you to where I found Harthel. I don't think we should move anything till the other Guardsmen come, but I thought you might want to set a watch over him."
He nodded. "Aye, lady, that is well thought of. There might be other.....scavengers about." The man from Harthel's regiment joined us, as well as a couple of his friends, and we took some torches, and I led the way out back to where I'd been waylaid. One of the bowmen joined us as we passed through their line. I stumbled once or twice over the uneven ground, my perception of which was made worse by the flickering torchlight, but when one of them reached out to steady me, I pulled away and kept going without assistance. When we came to the trench, Lord Hurin's man, who said his name was Morenal, went down with the man from Harthel's regiment to examine the body.
"Aye, it's Harthel," his companion in arms said sadly. "All the way to the Black Gate and back, and this happens to him. Were you the one that set him straight, lady?"
"Aye."
"Well, I thank you for that. I know his family, so I'll take word back to them. Who was it killed him?"
"Those two there." I indicated Cy and first voice. "At least they were the ones with him down there talking about it. To be fair about it, I don't think they intended to do it--they just wanted to rob him, but they hit him too hard. My horse picked up a stone in his foot, and I'd stopped to dig it out when I heard them. Then that fellow--" and I indicated Luhan, "Got the drop on me. There was a fourth, too, a man named Hran. He took my horse back to the camp while the others dealt with me."
"Didn't hit you hard enough, from the looks of things," Morenal said, nudging Luhan's body with his foot.
"By the Valar's grace, no. Then, when he went to finish the job, for they needed to kill me because I knew about them, he discovered I was a woman. They were going to have quite the party." My voice was very dry, and the Morthond bowman chuckled.
"They'd have been safer kissing a mountain cat by the looks of it!"
"Perhaps. If you don't need me any more, gentlemen, I'm going to head on back to the City." The Guardsmen and the bowman all looked at one another.
"Captain, perhaps you should wait till the Guardsmen get here," Moranel suggested gently. "You took quite a blow on the head--there's blood all down your face. You could get a ride back up with someone. It's more than two miles to the Gate."
"I want my bed, and I don't want to ride--it'll make me dizzy. I'll manage." I was suddenly possessed of an absolutely mulish desire to get to my room and lock myself in. Part of it at least was that I was certain if I stopped moving, I was going to go down, and in my current state of mind, I didn't want to do that in the presence of strangers, even strangers I thought were reasonably trustworthy.
The men all exchanged meaningful glances once more, then the bowman said, "I'll go with her. The Lord said to keep an eye out for her. And it may not be such a bad idea at that--I hear tell it's not too good to sleep right after you get bashed on the head. By the time we get up to the City, it'll probably be safe for her to rest."
"That's a long walk for you, bowman," one of the other Guardsmen noted. The bowman just laughed. "Five miles? We call that a morning stroll in Morthond Vale." With no further ado, he started to stride off towards the road. I waved to the Guardsmen, and followed.
The Morthond bowman was a considerate man, and shortened his long stride to accomodate me. He warned me of potential obstacles in my path, but did not try to take my arm, or touch me in any way, having apparently realized from our trip to the trench that I was not happy with such attempts. He told me his name was Tedryn, and at my request, spoke to me at some length about his family and his home. His descriptions of the tree-shadowed upland glens of Morthond were simple but lyrical, and they soothed me somewhat. We were a little way up the Road before he asked me in my turn about Ithilien, but that was harder for me--I would start to describe something, lose my train of thought and trail off into silence until he asked another question. But he was patient, and persistent, and he kept me going. I do not believe I could have gotten anywhere as far alone as I did in his company.
We were perhaps a mile up the road when a troop of mounted Guardsmen thundered past, and almost to the Gate when we encountered Lorend, riding one courier mount and leading another.
"Heth! Are you out of your mind? No, wait-- I suppose you must be." He glared at Tedryn, who shrugged.
"Said she wanted to walk back. Didn't want her walking alone. Says riding makes her dizzy." Lorend nodded, somewhat mollified.
"Well, thank you for not leaving her alone. And thank your lord for all his help."
Tedryn grinned. "No thanks necessary, Ranger--it was getting a little boring, sitting around all the time. We'd fletched all the arrows we could fletch." He bowed, and departed back the way he had come. Lorend looked at me where I stood swaying a little in the Road and grimaced.
"Heth, I don't care if it makes you dizzy or not, you're going to get on this horse. I'll hold the reins, and all you have to do is hold on. If you start to fall off, I'll catch you. There's no way you can manage the uphill climb in the shape you're in. So you can either climb up on that horse by yourself, or let me help you without killing me. What's it going to be?"
"I'll climb up, Lorend," I whispered. "I'll try to ride." I moved slowly over to the courier horse, put my foot in the stirrup, hauled myself up mostly with my right arm, and when I'd seated myself in the saddle, bent over and dry heaved down the horse's neck. He was not thrilled with this development, so it was just as well Lorend had a hold of him.
"Oh, Heth. You just hold on and I'll get you home. You got a good hold now?"
"Aye, Lorend." I twined my fingers into the mane before me like the veriest beginner, and held on. The clops of hooves on the pavement rang loud in my ears, and the torchlight and lamps of various establishments blurred in my vision. The everlasting celebration that had been in effect since Elessar's crowning was still going on, though since it was the wee hours of the morning, it was as subdued as it got. Still, there were many more people on the street than would have been usual for this time of night, and in the lower levels, we had to backtrack from time to time to make our way around them.
Things cleared out when we made the upper levels, as they always did, and Lorend started to take me to the Houses of Healing when we reached the second circle, but I stopped him.
"Please, Lorend, just take me to my room."
"Heth, you really need a healer." He started the horses forward again, and I pulled my feet from the stirrups and slid down. I dry-heaved once more when I hit the ground.
"Heth, what do you think you are doing?"
"Going to my room. I want my room. I promise you I'll see a healer in the morning when my head is clearer." I began to stagger towards the Citadel. Cursing, he rode after me.
"That is the silliest thing I ever heard! You need a healer because your head isn't clear!"
I continued on my way. "Lorend, if one of those healers touches me, I'm going to hurt him. If you touch me, I'll hurt you. All I can hear is orcs right now, understand? Maybe after I get some sleep, I'll be better. I'll try, at any rate." He gave it up for a lost cause, and followed me, cursing in a continuous litany under his breath. When we reached the courier stable I waited as he kicked the night groom awake, and gave him the horses. Then we continued into the Citadel courtyard. The courtiers had mostly turned in for the night, but there were a few people out there. Lorend steered us well around them, and made for the kitchen entrance.
When we came in the door, and the night staff saw me, there were shrieks, and the sound of breaking crockery. Lorend wasted no sympathy on them.
"That kettle on the stove over there hot?" A kitchen maid nodded. "Put a towel around the handle and give it to me. And give me some more clean towels, and any strong drink you've got lying about." The requested items appeared as if by magic, and we went swiftly on our way, which was, I think, the point of all the cooperation. When we came to my room, Lorend asked me for my key, and opened the door with some difficulty, the kitchen things tucked awkwardly under his arm, and the tea kettle in his other hand.
"Where's the dratted lamp?"
"On the mantle." He moved to the fireplace, set his kitchen spoils down, poked the fire up, lit a spill and then the lamp. Then he carried the kitchen things over to the washstand, and poured the hot water into the basin, and some of the cold from the pitcher. I shut the door behind us, and came over to the washstand.
"Here you go, Heth. Hot but not too hot. You want me to help?" His expression showed he already knew the answer to that one, but was asking it for politeness' sake.
"No."
"Where are you hurt?"
"My head and my arm. Took a throwing knife in the arm." I picked up a towel with trembling hands, dipped it in the water, and began patting at the side of my face. It was a white towel, and it came away reddened.
"How bad?"
"Deep, but not bad. You saw me shoot." I continued to dab at myself rather ineffectively, and bloody water dripped down my neck. I saw Lorend start to reach for me, and change his mind at the look on my face.
"Heth, did they rape you?" he asked after a while, very quietly.
"No, but they were going to. Rape me, and kill me. I had to let the first one get close, right on top of me, so I could get a blow in on him. The other two were easier." I gave up on the head wound, shoved the sleeve far enough up my arm to clean the arm wound, dabbed at it a bit with the hot water and the liquor, which made me wince, and gave up on it as well.
"That's enough for now. I'll do a better job in the morning." I looked at the bed for a moment.
"Heth, you need to get those bloody clothes off."
"I'll do that in the morning too."
"Heth, it is the morning."
"You know what I mean......late morning." I decided that I did not want to mess up my bed after all, so I pulled the blanket off of it, drew my cloak around me, draped the blanket over that, and drew it around me, then sat down with my back to the wall beside the bed.
"For Valar's sake, sleep in the bed at least!"
"Don't want to mess the sheets up. I'll be fine. Throw a log on the fire, and you can leave."
"I'm not going anywhere. I'll sleep on the bed if you won't."
"Whatever you like, Lorend--just don't come near me while I'm asleep. I won't be responsible for what happens."
I couldn't get comfortable with my sword dragging against the wall, so I shifted the belt around till it lay across my lap, settled back against the wall and finally let the darkness take me. The last thing I heard was Lorend settling, not onto the bed but dragging my one hard wooden chair over to the fire, and muttering, " I can't deal with this."