Author's Note--Well, it's not Tuesday, Tia, but for as long a chapter as it is, I don't think I did too badly! Many thanks to the folks on Henneth-Annun, particularly Mike, for all their help with Eagle aerodynamics, and to Elizabeth Wyeth once again, for medical details and evil inspiration.
The Prince's sense of humor faded as the day dragged on. There was no way he could ride before me in the saddle that did not jar his wounded leg with every step the horse took. He was continually nauseous, and his headache had become excruciating. His nose bled a couple of more times, and he shivered and sweated with a fever for most of the day. He had no strength, though what little he still possessed he used to try to help balance himself so as to hamper me the least he could. He could not eat, and managed only small sips of water. Several times between regular rest breaks, we had to stop so that he could retch. His leg was swollen hugely underneath the blanket we'd wrapped about it, and livid bruises were beginning to bloom on it, though strangely it felt cold rather than warm to the touch. It had never stopped seeping blood. Elladan was checking his toes every time we stopped--from what he told me quietly off to the side, if poison did not kill him, there was still a good chance he would loose the leg.
His embarrassment and misery at being reduced to this condition of helplessness were very evident. But he never complained, and I tried to be as matter-of-fact as possible, for he seemed most comfortable if I behaved so. Besides the occasional sip of water, he made only one request the whole day, as we were walking the horses to give them a breather after an extended canter.
"Would you talk to me as we ride, Hethlin? I would find it...comforting to listen to you--it would help me think of other things."
"What would you have me speak of, my lord? I can't do stories like you do, with the voices." He leaned back against my shoulder and gave me a weary smile.
"Oh, whatever pleases you, child. Voices are certainly not necessary. Tell me about the Rangers, if you like."
So as we rode, I told him how I'd come to be a Ranger of Ithilien, or rather, my early days as a Ranger. The parts about the orcs and my long illness, after all, were hardly something he would enjoy listening to. I told him about shooting the two Mumaks. And I told him about some of our more notable raids and exploits, and some of the funnier things that had happened, for even war has its comic moments, though they tend to be dark comedy at best.
I talked a lot about Faramir, for I could tell he enjoyed those stories the most. One of them even drew a quiet chuckle from him. There was much, I realized, that he did not know about how his youngest nephew had spent his time as a Ranger. He did not speak or respond much at all to the stories, and he kept his eyes closed most of the time, for it helped, he said, with his nausea. But when I would reach a stopping point, and wait for a moment to see if he were awake or asleep, he would make a tiny nod of acknowledgment, and I would continue.
Every couple of hours we would stop to rest the horses, change over from Caerith to Fortune or vice versa, help him down and tend to his needs. There were certain things he did not want me to witness, and I respected his privacy, leaving him to the twins at those times. Indeed, I was very glad of the chance to stretch my limbs and move freely when we stopped, and tended to leave him to them altogether, using the time to tend to the Dol Amroth horses, who were wilting a bit under the punishing pace we were setting. I was somewhat wilted myself. My left hand was paining me, and my left arm was the one that had to do the work of holding Imrahil on the horse. I could not have pulled a bow if my life depended upon it, so it was perhaps a good thing that it was strapped onto whatever stallion I wasn't riding at the time.
As the day drew on to dark, the Prince's condition grew worse. The bouts of shivering became increasingly severe, and there were times when he tensed against me in response to some sort of pain, clenching his jaw so that no sound would escape. I held him as carefully as I could, and spoke soothingly, feeling frustrated and helpless that I could not do more. Finally, as dusk fell, I felt a dampness against my neck. Thinking that his nose was bleeding again I reached up, touched his cheek by mistake and found the moisture there instead. He said nothing, but gave a shuddering sigh, and turned his face into my neck a bit more. I closed my eyes for a moment in sympathy, then drew the blanket up higher around his face and called out to Elladan.
"Elladan! Find a place to stop for the night!"
"We ought to press on a bit longer, Snowsteel. I told you how it would be."
"The horses have had enough. I have had enough. And the Prince has had enough."
He turned back in his saddle to look at me, and nodded, though his face was grim.
"Very well. I suppose we have made good enough progress for the day." We slowed the horses and turned to the left, to pass under the trees of Fangorn.
I had never seen such trees as these--huge and hoary, shaggy with moss and lichen. Rank upon rank of them stretched back into dim darkness, like great columns. We went a little way into the forest, not too far from the edge, but far enough to prevent any other orc bands from attacking us. When Elladan found a place that suited him, we halted, and he came over to help the Prince dismount. I helped him slide down into the elf's waiting arms, struck anew by how the twins were so very much stronger than they appeared to be.
"Hethlin, would you start seeing to the horses? Brother--"
"I smell it. There must be a spring nearby. I'll find it."
"See if there is anything here we can use for poultices. We are running low."
"Very well, Elladan. Dare we light a fire here?"
"He needs one. You know the stories of this place as well as I. I think we can, so long as it's just deadfall we use."
"I'll gather some wood as well, then." And he pulled his bow from off his shoulder and slipped off into the darkness.
I started stripping saddles and bridles. In the company of the Elven horses, it was not necessary to tether Caerith and Fortune--they stood calmly as if trying to prove that they were as civilized and intelligent as their daintier kin. It was a peculiar thing, really--one normally didn't just turn four stallions loose together without trouble. I brushed Caerith first, for he was the last horse I'd ridden, and he submitted appreciatively. Then, as I saw to Fortune, the huge war horse stepped delicately over to where his master was propped against one of the great trees, Elladan working on his leg once more. He dropped his nose first to Imrahil's hair, blowing in it, then to his chest. The Prince reached up slowly, his hand shaking, and stroked Caerith's nose and cheek.
"Hello there, lad," I heard him murmur wearily. "You did a good day's work today, didn't you?" The stallion nudged him, and Imrahil groaned. Elladan spoke sharply to the horse.
"Enough!" he said in Elvish. "Go seek water and grass! Your master is safe in my hands.' Caerith threw his head up with a snort, and trotted back over to his companions. I finished giving Nimfaun and Alagos a quick brush-off, with a promise of better grooming come the morning, and they led the two mortal horses off into the woods in the direction Elrohir had taken.
"How's this?" I asked Elladan, indicating what I thought was a likely place for a fire pit. He nodded. "That looks good."
"Shall I go try to find some wood as well?"
"No. Set out the blankets will you? Make them into one big bed. The two who are not on watch tonight will stay with him and keep him warm. I will go look for wood when I am done with this, if Elrohir has not returned with some. Elven eyes are better in the dark."
I laid out the blankets of all four of us in as soft a bed as I could contrive, rolling my cloak into a pillow, then helped Elladan carry the Prince over and settle him in. He sighed in relief as we laid him down, and almost immediately drifted off to sleep. Elladan checked his pulse, and frowned slightly.
"Stay with him," he told me quietly. "I am going to go see what's keeping Brother." At that moment, Elrohir returned, waterskin slung over his shoulder and carrying a large armload of wood. He brought the wood to me, and took the waterskin over to Imrahil. With a bit of effort, he roused him and persuaded him to drink, then settled him back.
"Come brother," he told Elladan, "There is quite a bit of deadwood out there. Let us go get more before it becomes totally dark. Nothing for poultices, but I found some mushrooms."
"Mushrooms?" Elladan's ears didn't perk up exactly, but he certainly became very attentive. "Where?"
"I will show you. Snowsteel, will you start the fire?"
"Of course. You two be careful. Is there anything I should do for the Prince while you're gone."
"Keep him comfortable. Talk to him if he wishes it. Watch him carefully while he sleeps. If it seems as if he is getting worse, try to send to Elrohir. Heat up some water for tea or washing once you have the fire going. That is all you can do," replied Elladan. "We will not be gone long." And they departed.
By the time they returned, I had a fire ready, and was heating a small pot of wash water for the Prince. Elrohir commandeered the fire so that he could fix supper, and Elladan chased me away from the Prince so that he could give him a sponge bath, for the Prince refused to have me anywhere about when that was done. Feeling rather rejected all around, I sat down with my back to a tree, and drifted off. I was roused some time later by Elrohir who presented me with a cup of wine and a plate that contained mushrooms fried in bacon and bread that had seen better days a week ago, but wasn't half bad when toasted with cheese on top.
"Eat your dinner and go to bed, Snowsteel," he told me. "We have another hard ride tomorrow. Elladan and I will do the watches tonight."
"When are you going to get some rest?"
"We traded off a bit today, while riding. I would watch while he dreamed, then I would dream while he watched. We will be well enough. But you have had the hard work of it today. Get some sleep, for you will need your strength."
I went over to the blankets, took off my armor, weapons and boots and slid in beside the Prince. His forehead was warm, but the rest of him felt chill to the touch, so I snuggled in as closely as I could. He made an indistinct noise, and shifted a little towards me. After a bit, Elladan came over, divested himself of his equipment, and slid in on the other side, after checking Imrahil's forehead and pulse.
"Will he be all right?" I asked quietly. Elladan looked troubled.
"That I do not know." Calmed and warmed by our proximity, the Prince settled more deeply into sleep. I soon followed.
In the middle watches of the night I awoke to the sound of retching once more. Elladan and Elrohir both supported the Prince at the edge of the blankets. This time, it was not dry heaves, and there was a coppery tang of blood in the air. I rolled out of the blankets, put new wood on the fire, and fetched the waterskin and a cup and towel. The retching lasted for a couple of minutes, to be followed immediately by some sort of horrible seizure, the likes of which I had never seen before and scared me half to death.
When all was done, Imrahil lay a spent, unconscious, blood-spattered wreck in Elrohir's arms. All thought of any more sleep was abandoned as the three of us labored make him as clean and comfortable as possible. This was somewhat difficult to do, as he'd sweated through or bled on almost everything he possessed in the last day. But we cleaned the blood from his face and chest and hair, and clad him in his last clean shirt. When he woke again an hour later, we gave him some cool water to rinse his mouth out and drink. Then, because he protested against being laid flat again, I sat in the blankets and held him in my arms against my shoulder, stroking his hair gently, and talking to him as I had during the day. He protested weakly that such efforts on my part were unnecessary, but he was clearly more comfortable being held thusly and eventually he lapsed into slumber once more.
The dawn did not bring reassurance. The long lines of orange light that shone into our dark forest citadel lent no color to his gray face. And there was a sunken look about his eyes that struck fear into my heart, for I'd been on too many battlefields to not have seen that look before. His was not the face of a man who was going to live to see two sunrises after this one, or even one.
Elladan and Elrohir were fixing breakfast silently, but I could tell that Elrohir was speaking to his brother mind to mind. When he felt me, he looked up and gestured that I should join them. Moving very carefully, so as not to jostle the Prince, I slid out from underneath him, and tucked the blankets closely around him. I then stretched thoroughly, and made my way over.
"We have been discussing what we should do today," said Elrohir in a very low voice. "Whether we should ride on or stay here." He handed me a bowl of porridge, and a spoon.
"Why would you want to stay here?" I murmured, taking a bite. "We need to get him to Lorien."
"I carry some poppy with me, in case one of us is seriously injured," said Elladan quietly. "It would ease his pain." Astounded, I stared at him.
"Then why haven't you given it to him already?" Elrohir answered for his brother.
"Because, Snowsteel, it's not something you want to do to someone in his condition if you think there's a chance they'll survive." I stared at the two of them, their starry eyes dimmed by sorrow.
"No!" I exclaimed softly, in denial of their superior knowledge and my own eyes. "You said your father could help him!"
"And so he could, we believe, even now, where he here or Imrahil there," murmured Elladan, not without sympathy. "But too great a distance lies between. I do not believe the Prince will live to see Lorien. And in the unlikely event he does, I fear he will be too far gone for even Father to do any more than what I propose to do here."
"With all due respect, my lord Elladan, you've been wrong before. We mortals only get one life. You'd best be very certain of yourself before you shorten his!" Elladan's face paled, and his lips tightened. I realized suddenly that I was treading on thin ground, for this was the face he'd worn when slaying the orcs.
"And you, Snowsteel," he said in a voice of honeyed venom, "You had best be sure that your desire to subject him to an agonizing ride is because you truly believe he is strong enough to survive it, and not because you cannot bear to tell Faramir of the death of his uncle." We were glaring at each other in mutual offense, when a quiet voice came from the other side of the fire.
"You know, it is peculiar. I seem to be losing my sight, but my hearing works....as well as ever. I think perhaps.....that we should all have a little talk."
"Gentlemen, my lady," Imrahil said softly, between labored breaths, "I ....would have the truth from you." Elladan knelt down beside him and took his hand gently.
"What is it you would know, my lord prince?"
"How many days to Lorien from here?"
"If we continue at the pace we set yesterday, we will arrive there tomorrow afternoon."
"Can the horses.....keep going at that pace?"
"Nimfaun and Alagos, certainly. Your two--I'm not sure."
"And is it....your considered opinion......that I will last that long?" He closed his eyes against a sudden spasm of pain and drew his uninjured leg up a bit, stifling a groan.
"That is also something about which I am not certain, my lord," said Elladan regretfully. The spasm passed, and Imrahil relaxed again, taking a deep, gulping breath.
"But what do you believe? I....know all about how healers are not supposed to kill hope, Elladan. But I have asked....the truth of you."
"I do not believe you will survive to see Lorien, my lord," Elladan admitted. Imrahil smiled wryly.
"There, that was not so hard, was it? And if that is the case.....then it seems certain arrangements should be made."
"Arrangements, my lord?"
"Yes. Would you all come closer? I'm not....seeing particularly well right now." Elrohir came over and knelt beside his brother. I set my uneaten porridge down, went to the Prince's other side, and took his other hand and squeezed it. He turned his head in my direction.
"Hello, Hethlin. First, the three of you must swear that if I should die....my family will never know what really happened. I took an arrow in the heart.....and was dead before I hit the ground. I never felt a thing. That.... is what you will tell them. Swear it." We all swore by our fathers that that was what would be said, and Imrahil smiled once more, this time with relief.
"Good. There is no sense in....grieving them with the details of this. Secondly.....Hethlin, death cancels an oath of fealty--"
"My lord, you're--"
"--Do not interrupt me, child. It's hard enough to talk as it is. You were sworn to me, not my house.....so if I should die, your promise to me is done. But that still.....does not free you from your oath to the King." He turned his head slowly towards the twins. "So, if I die, I want the two of you...to promise you'll speak to the King. Tell Aragorn that if....I was ever of any service to him, he will release Hethlin from her oath.....and let her return to Ithilien, where she has lands, and friends."
"If that is what you wish, Imrahil, then Elladan and I will see it done," said Elrohir softly, though he gave me a peculiar look.
"Hethlin, in return for your life back," and here the Prince actually managed to give me a pained grin, "there is something I want you to do for me."
"Anything, my lord," I promised. The grin widened.
"Oho! That was easy! I am....almost tempted to extract all sorts of promises.....from the lot of you while I have the chance! Such as having the two of you"-- and this was addressed to the twins--"leave poor Eomer of Rohan alone." Turning back to me, his voice grew serious once more. "This is a simple one, though.....one you should not mind. I want you to promise...to look after Faramir for me. Not for the rest of your life. That would hardly be fair. Just...for a couple of years, till the lad is settled. If things go badly....he will be hurt, and needing his friends about him. It is not good....to be disappointed too often. Or to lose...too many people that you love. I sometimes wonder....if that were not his father's problem."
"You can rely upon me, my lord." He nodded slowly.
"I rather...thought I could." He sighed, stiffened once more in pain, then relaxed. "One more thing. If it becomes necessary, do try to bury me somewhere... I may be found again later. I should like to lie with my wife at Dol Amroth. There. Arrangements taken care of. Let me know....when you are ready to ride. For I think I do wish to ride. If it turns out I must perish, I would prefer to do it.....on the back of my warhorse.....and in the arms of a gallant lady. Must be....because we're in Rohan." His eyes closed.
"My lord, I have something that--" Elladan began in the gentlest of voices.
"--I know, my lord prince. And if I require it, I will let you know." The voice was suddenly that of the man who had held the western half of Gondor safe for most of his adult life. "Now give me a moment with Hethlin, please." The twins went off to finish their breakfast, and he opened his eyes and looked in my direction.
"Hethlin, this is not......the tragedy you think it is. All those young boys who died....at Ithilien and Osgiliath and Minas Tirith....and the Morannon--that is a tragedy. I have had a loving wife.....four beautiful and clever children who happen to love me, a.....perfectly wonderful little grandson, wealth and power, victory in battle against impossible odds--it would be...churlish in the extreme to complain just because....it was cut a little short. I am a very....fortunate man."
"If you say so, my lord."
"I do. Now, we both have jobs to do. You...have a message to deliver to our new Queen. And I.....I have to prove that Elladan doesn't know what he is talking about. Go finish your breakfast." His eyes closed once more, and he said nothing else.
I squeezed his hand gently and brought it to my lips, and received a faint smile in response. Tears stinging my eyes, I got up, and despite his command, walked out of the camp and indeed out from under the eaves of the forest, into the rising sunlight. Only one thought filled my mind as I did so--that I had killed the Lord of Dol Amroth. For if I had not been so insistent on his coming to Lorien, this never would have happened. He would still have been safe in Minas Tirith, advising the King and playing with his grandson. The grandson, at least, was too young to remember him clearly or grieve much should he pass. But the delightful, quirky family who'd gathered about him as its center after one sad bereavement already.....they would be inconsolable. And Faramir, whose uncle was not only the father to him that Denethor should have been, but the rock he leaned on in an uncertain world, might be something even worse.
I had promised Imrahil that I would look after Faramir, but wondered if I were going to be able to fulfill my oath, or if Faramir might come to blame me for his death. And as I stood there in the growing light, my mind played over endlessly my memories of the Prince--his loving farewell to Faramir before we left for the retreat; his gentle compassion in the middle of a pitched battle, as he took his wounded nephew from me on the Pelennor; his whimsical delight in a child's cloud game the day of our picnic. His sympathetic concern at court when my life had been wrenched onto a new and unforeseen path, and the following day, after the assault. His wistful desire to see Lorien, and the gentle affection of his farewell to his family in the courtyard of the Citadel. The way he'd seen to my welfare first after the orc battle, though his own hurt had been the greater.
He was a warrior, and a gentleman in the truest sense of the word. I strongly suspected that the only reason he was going to ride out today was that he believed that I would feel better if we kept trying to save him to the very end, not because he had any real belief that he was going to survive. That he would be willing to undergo such agony simply to make me feel better was simply indicative once again of the sort of man he was. Inwardly, I raged against the unfairness of life, for he did not deserve the degradation and pain of what was happening to him now. He may not have felt it to be a tragedy, but I certainly did. Through our link, I could feel Elrohir's concern and sympathy.
*It is not your fault, Snowsteel. He is a prince of men, and follows his own road. It was the desire of his heart, not your suggestion, that brought him to this pass.* I did not answer as the tears began to spill down my cheeks, though he knew I had heard him. Instead, as is often the case when folk are in extremity, I sent a silent prayer to the One, that He could heal Imrahil, or give him the strength to last till we could reach Lorien, or succor him in some other fashion. The rising sun glared into my tear-filled eyes so badly that I turned my back to it, and drew my sleeve across them. Sadly, I looked across the dark-green expanse of the Fangorn Forest to where it lapped at the feet of the Misty Mountains, then up the shadowed grey-purple of their flanks to where the morning sun kindled their snow-crowned peaks to glowing white-gold. A tiny black speck circled there, soaring on the warming currents of the morning air.
I thought at first that my teary eyes must be tricking me, that it was merely a hawk or buzzard circling above Fangorn itself, but when it vanished behind a peak, then reappeared, I realized that it was in fact above the mountains themselves, and that if I could see it at this distance, it was a huge bird indeed.......
Hope flamed then in my heart, new and bright and fierce, and without thinking of what I was doing or even knowing exactly how I was doing it, I gathered all my fear and sorrow and need and prepared to send them forth in a soul-deep call for help. Alarm sparked through my link with Elrohir-- *No, Snowsteel! You have to anchor!*--but I ignored him and launched myself out, and suddenly, faster than any wings, I had crossed the distance, I was there, soaring in the morning light, gazing down upon the wide world spread beneath me--and I was answered.
*I hear, nestling. And I come.* White light splintered behind my eyes, and pain flared in my chest. I fell into darkness and knew no more.
I woke to a truly incredible headache, and a chest ache, and the presence of a shadow looming over me. Someone was slapping my face lightly and repeatedly.
"You! Have! To! Stop! Doing! Things! Like! This!" said Elrohir's voice. I groaned, and the slapping stopped. "No matter what you may think, it is not my life's calling to reunite your body and spirit whenever you come up with some new and clever way to rend them apart!" I felt him move, opened my eyes slowly, and found that I was nose to nose with the beautiful elf lord, who was straddling me and leaning on his elbows. His eyebrow arched.
"Awake yet, Snowsteel?"
"Aye."
"Did you manage to talk to it?"
"Couldn't you tell?"
"No, I can't hear them." Elrohir seemed disinclined to move for some reason, so I decided to help him by placing my hands on his ribs and lifting him off. Strangely, I was incredibly fatigued and my rather feeble shove did not work, so on impulse, I dug my fingers in. To my very great surprise, he immediately yelped and rolled off of me. Filing away the very important piece of information that Elrohir was extremely ticklish for future consideration and plotting, I sat up slowly and painfully.
"Aye, I talked to it. It's on the way. Or rather, she's on the way. Will they carry people? I thought I could ask her to bring your father to us. Or take the Prince to Lorien. If she won't do that, then maybe she could take the arrow and a message, and bring us some medicine back."
"I know that Gwaihir has carried Mithrandir a couple of times, and Mithrandir went into Mordor with three Eagles to bring Sam and Frodo back. Surely she would do this for you."
"I don't know. But I suspect we're about to find out how much influence I really have."
"Are you feeling all right now?"
"Aye. But I'm really tired for some reason." Elrohir gave a sigh of long-suffering patience.
"Snowsteel, do you remember when I rescued you from the Grey Lands, and Elladan was chastising me about overextending myself and stopping my heart?"
"Aye."
"Well, there you have it."
"You mean I--"
"Very nearly."
"Oh."
"Say 'Thank you, Elrohir.'"
"Thank you, Elrohir."
"Say 'You must allow me to express my gratitude in a more tangible way.'" I looked at him flatly for a moment, and he grinned.
"Ah well. Worth a try. Why don't you wait here for your friend? I have already told Elladan what is going on. He is not particularly happy, but he is going to write a letter to Father."
"What's the matter with Elladan? Surely he is glad that we can save the Prince."
"Oh yes. He just won't like that we have to use an Eagle to do it."
"What did he do to the Eagles? Or the Eagles do to him?"
Elrohir smiled wickedly. "I suspect that you are going to find that out soon enough, Snowsteel. And I will not even have to be the one to tell you. Ah, but things are looking up, are they not?" He strode off, whistling cheerfully in the brightening morning light.
The Eagle arrived a little over an hour later with thunder of huge wings. Elrohir had warmed my porridge back up and brought it and some toast out to me. He had used some of his precious honey in it, and with the prospect of rescue for my lord, I found that my appetite had returned. I finished my breakfast long before she came.
"I am Gwaenaur," the Eagle told me, and I frankly stared, for she was half again as large as the Windlord and her feathers were more reddish than I remembered his being.
"Hethlin, daughter of Hallaran, of the House of the Eagle," I said, remembering my manners and bowing. "My kill is yours."
"And mine yours, nestling. What is the nature of your difficulty? You look to be in no danger to me."
"It is not me, it is my....chieftain," I explained, hopefully couching it in terms she would understand. "He was struck by a poisoned orc arrow two days ago, and lies near death. We have been trying to get to Lorien, but fear that he will not last long enough to reach help. I had hoped that you might be willing to take word to Lorien, and bring Lord Elrond to us here, or that you might take my chieftain there." The Eagle cocked her head to one side in that way that they had, and regarded me with one platter-sized golden eye.
"We are not beasts of burden, nestling. Have your elders not told you this?"
"My father died before he could tell me about you at all, wind lady." I gave her a beseeching look. "I would not ask were the need not great."
"What a world it has become, when a scion of the House of the Eagle does not know her own heritage." The great beak clacked in disapproval or annoyance, a very impressive sight. "Who is this chieftain to whom you owe allegiance?"
"Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth." The head swiveled, and the other eye regarded me.
"The Swan Lord? The males who went to the Black Gate spoke highly of him. Gwaihir said he was very polite." I was beginning to get the idea that good manners were very important to the Eagles.
"Aye, wind lady. And he is, very polite indeed."
"Where is this chieftain? I will look upon him before I decide."
"He is a short way within the wood. We camped there to avoid the orcs." Though Eagle faces did not lend themselves to much in the way of changes of expression, I got the idea that this did not much please Gwaenaur. But she made no comment as she started waddling towards the forest beside me. I remembered Elrohir's remark about large piles of dirty brown feathers. It was perhaps not quite that bad, but the earth was certainly not her element.
Since the trees were so old and vast, the first branches were a great distance from the ground for the most part, so she did not have to duck her head. But there was no way she could have spread her wings and taken off, and this made her uneasy. She became even more agitated when we arrived at the campsite, and she saw Elladan. She fluffed her feathers and made a loud, angry hiss.
"Despoiler! How came you here? You keep poor company, nestling! Say he is not your mate, for if he is, we will come to you no more!"
"No, lady, he is not my mate. The sons of Elrond travel with us." I was rather worried at this development, but Elrohir, though he had made sure he was close to Elladan, did not seem to be frightened or concerned.
Gwaenaur hissed once more, then seemed to dismiss the matter, and paced over to where Imrahil slept by the fire. She regarded him with one eye, then the other, then turned her head almost upside down and looked at him that way.
"The upper airs are cold. He does not look as if he would survive the journey." I nodded.
"He may not, and if he does not, it is no fault of yours, wind lady. But if he remains here with no help, he will not survive either."
"I see that. The Elves are not the only ones who see more than what is in plain view." She seemed deep in thought for a moment. "Very well, I will do this thing. But there will be a price."
"Whatever you wish, wind lady, I will do it," I promised. It was perhaps rash of me to swear so, but I felt reasonably sure the Eagle would ask nothing of me that I was not capable of undertaking. Her head swiveled in my direction for a moment.
"It is not you who will pay the price, nestling, but him." And she fastened her gaze upon Elladan, who stiffened and gave her a glare.
"If you wish me to take the Swan Lord to Lorien, then the son of Elrond must, upon his return to Imladris, go to that place which he knows of, and return to us that which was taken from us--with an apology." Elrohir chuckled.
"Ah yes, we come to it at last!" Elladan snorted scornfully.
"It was eight hundred years ago, and he grew another one back six months later. You people just need to let it go." I was afraid the Eagle might hop over there and nip his head off, but she simply regarded him calmly.
"Do you still have it then, son of Elrond?"
"It hangs above the hearth in my room in Imladris. A far nicer place for it than one of your nitty nests." There was a decidedly arrogant curl to his mouth.
"Then as it is close to hand, it should be a small matter for you to return it." The Eagle was being very polite and calm, I thought, under the circumstances. Elladan was being so intentionally provoking that I was about ready to nip his head off myself.
"I slid halfway down that mountain on my rump! I broke my arm! And I was picking bits of rock out of my.....skin for six months afterward! I bled for that feather, and I intend to keep it! What use have you for it anyway?" The Eagle cocked her head.
"Why none at all, really. It is, as you handed ones say, the principal of the thing. He was called Splittail to the end of his days. It was very humiliating."
"It's not my fault you people are so obsessed with appearances!" Gwaenaur clicked her beak at him.
"Our former Chieftain's tail-feather is the price for a passage to Lorien this morn. Will you pay it or no? Decide swiftly, for the day advances, the wind is warming, and I weary of being ground-bound." Elladan glowered at her, Gwaenaur fluffed and hissed at him once more, and Elrohir watched all of us as if he found this the most entertaining event of the Third Age thus far. I wanted to shake Elladan till his pearly teeth rattled, but pleaded with him instead.
"It is the Prince's life we're talking about here, Elladan! Surely that is worth humbling yourself a little bit."
"I paid for that feather with pain, Snowsteel."
"However much you suffered," I snapped, "I doubt it was anywhere near what the Prince has endured this last day and a half! Stop acting like a child!" Elladan turned his three thousand year old glare upon me, but I was past caring. I swore to myself then and there that if he let the Prince die because of a stupid feather, I would come North and see that the whole of Eriador knew about it, from Forlindon to the Misty Mountains. Elrohir gave me a surprised look, and spoke up quickly.
"Brother, you have held it long enough. Let it go." Elladan looked down at Imrahil for a long moment, then said softly, "Very well, you may have it back."
"I would have your sworn word, son of Elrond." Elladan bridled at that, but the Eagle was adamant, and in the end, he capitulated
"I swear, by my name and my house, that on my return to Imladris, I will go to the Place of the Eagles and return to them the tail-feather of their former Chieftain, with an apology for the humiliation I inflicted upon him and upon his house." Gwaenaur shrugged her wings a bit, and shook herself.
"Very good. Wrap your parcel well against the cold, and bring him out to the Forest's edge. I will await you there." And with no further ado, she turned about and began walking slowly out of the wood.
We wrapped the Prince in his cloak, pierced and laced close beneath his chin, so that the hood would stay up on his head, and all of our blankets. Beneath, he was clad in his shirt and gambeson, and his spare tunics were carefully wrapped about his leg and feet. Tucked within the gambeson was the tube containing the arrow, and a letter from Elladan to his father, detailing what we knew of the Prince's condition, and what had been done to him thus far. He roused somewhat when we readied him, but his fever had risen once more, and this time he was not coherent. He was also not happy when the twins bound the blankets lightly about him with the cord they carried in their saddlebags, but we deemed it necessary to insure that he stayed covered in the rushing wind. He wriggled a bit in protest as Elladan and Elrohir carried him out of the forest, then subsided into a glassy-eyed stupor.
Gwaenaur, who had taken to the air once more, landed when we brought him forth and laid him on the grass. She looked with approval at our packaging.
"That should serve. I will be as gentle as I can, but a little padding never goes amiss." The twins stepped back, and I knelt beside him quickly, and kissed him on the brow.
"Valar guard and guide, my lord." He gave me an unfocused look and did not respond. I stood, and stepped back as well. The Eagle walked forward, and ever so carefully closed her left claw about Imrahil's shoulders. She then began beating her wings, and placed her right claw rather more loosely about his legs. Three good, hard downbeats, and she was airborne. The Prince cried out as she launched herself, then was silent. Pumping hard, she gained altitude swiftly, and before long was but a small black dot, shrinking as it flew north and a little east. The three of us stood and watched till it had vanished completely, then Elrohir threw an arm about my shoulders and Elladan's, and squeezed us both.
"You gave him the best chance you could, the two of you," he said. I looked across him at Elladan.
"I am sorry, my lord prince, for speaking to you so." Elladan gave me a sad smile.
"No, Snowsteel, sorry I am that I made it necessary." Elrohir grinned.
"Now that we are all one big happy family again, let us go find those lazy steeds of ours! I propose we ride as far as the Limlight, swim it and spend the rest of the day drying out and resting." Nodding agreement, we went back into the dimness of Fangorn to begin packing.
The Prince's sense of humor faded as the day dragged on. There was no way he could ride before me in the saddle that did not jar his wounded leg with every step the horse took. He was continually nauseous, and his headache had become excruciating. His nose bled a couple of more times, and he shivered and sweated with a fever for most of the day. He had no strength, though what little he still possessed he used to try to help balance himself so as to hamper me the least he could. He could not eat, and managed only small sips of water. Several times between regular rest breaks, we had to stop so that he could retch. His leg was swollen hugely underneath the blanket we'd wrapped about it, and livid bruises were beginning to bloom on it, though strangely it felt cold rather than warm to the touch. It had never stopped seeping blood. Elladan was checking his toes every time we stopped--from what he told me quietly off to the side, if poison did not kill him, there was still a good chance he would loose the leg.
His embarrassment and misery at being reduced to this condition of helplessness were very evident. But he never complained, and I tried to be as matter-of-fact as possible, for he seemed most comfortable if I behaved so. Besides the occasional sip of water, he made only one request the whole day, as we were walking the horses to give them a breather after an extended canter.
"Would you talk to me as we ride, Hethlin? I would find it...comforting to listen to you--it would help me think of other things."
"What would you have me speak of, my lord? I can't do stories like you do, with the voices." He leaned back against my shoulder and gave me a weary smile.
"Oh, whatever pleases you, child. Voices are certainly not necessary. Tell me about the Rangers, if you like."
So as we rode, I told him how I'd come to be a Ranger of Ithilien, or rather, my early days as a Ranger. The parts about the orcs and my long illness, after all, were hardly something he would enjoy listening to. I told him about shooting the two Mumaks. And I told him about some of our more notable raids and exploits, and some of the funnier things that had happened, for even war has its comic moments, though they tend to be dark comedy at best.
I talked a lot about Faramir, for I could tell he enjoyed those stories the most. One of them even drew a quiet chuckle from him. There was much, I realized, that he did not know about how his youngest nephew had spent his time as a Ranger. He did not speak or respond much at all to the stories, and he kept his eyes closed most of the time, for it helped, he said, with his nausea. But when I would reach a stopping point, and wait for a moment to see if he were awake or asleep, he would make a tiny nod of acknowledgment, and I would continue.
Every couple of hours we would stop to rest the horses, change over from Caerith to Fortune or vice versa, help him down and tend to his needs. There were certain things he did not want me to witness, and I respected his privacy, leaving him to the twins at those times. Indeed, I was very glad of the chance to stretch my limbs and move freely when we stopped, and tended to leave him to them altogether, using the time to tend to the Dol Amroth horses, who were wilting a bit under the punishing pace we were setting. I was somewhat wilted myself. My left hand was paining me, and my left arm was the one that had to do the work of holding Imrahil on the horse. I could not have pulled a bow if my life depended upon it, so it was perhaps a good thing that it was strapped onto whatever stallion I wasn't riding at the time.
As the day drew on to dark, the Prince's condition grew worse. The bouts of shivering became increasingly severe, and there were times when he tensed against me in response to some sort of pain, clenching his jaw so that no sound would escape. I held him as carefully as I could, and spoke soothingly, feeling frustrated and helpless that I could not do more. Finally, as dusk fell, I felt a dampness against my neck. Thinking that his nose was bleeding again I reached up, touched his cheek by mistake and found the moisture there instead. He said nothing, but gave a shuddering sigh, and turned his face into my neck a bit more. I closed my eyes for a moment in sympathy, then drew the blanket up higher around his face and called out to Elladan.
"Elladan! Find a place to stop for the night!"
"We ought to press on a bit longer, Snowsteel. I told you how it would be."
"The horses have had enough. I have had enough. And the Prince has had enough."
He turned back in his saddle to look at me, and nodded, though his face was grim.
"Very well. I suppose we have made good enough progress for the day." We slowed the horses and turned to the left, to pass under the trees of Fangorn.
I had never seen such trees as these--huge and hoary, shaggy with moss and lichen. Rank upon rank of them stretched back into dim darkness, like great columns. We went a little way into the forest, not too far from the edge, but far enough to prevent any other orc bands from attacking us. When Elladan found a place that suited him, we halted, and he came over to help the Prince dismount. I helped him slide down into the elf's waiting arms, struck anew by how the twins were so very much stronger than they appeared to be.
"Hethlin, would you start seeing to the horses? Brother--"
"I smell it. There must be a spring nearby. I'll find it."
"See if there is anything here we can use for poultices. We are running low."
"Very well, Elladan. Dare we light a fire here?"
"He needs one. You know the stories of this place as well as I. I think we can, so long as it's just deadfall we use."
"I'll gather some wood as well, then." And he pulled his bow from off his shoulder and slipped off into the darkness.
I started stripping saddles and bridles. In the company of the Elven horses, it was not necessary to tether Caerith and Fortune--they stood calmly as if trying to prove that they were as civilized and intelligent as their daintier kin. It was a peculiar thing, really--one normally didn't just turn four stallions loose together without trouble. I brushed Caerith first, for he was the last horse I'd ridden, and he submitted appreciatively. Then, as I saw to Fortune, the huge war horse stepped delicately over to where his master was propped against one of the great trees, Elladan working on his leg once more. He dropped his nose first to Imrahil's hair, blowing in it, then to his chest. The Prince reached up slowly, his hand shaking, and stroked Caerith's nose and cheek.
"Hello there, lad," I heard him murmur wearily. "You did a good day's work today, didn't you?" The stallion nudged him, and Imrahil groaned. Elladan spoke sharply to the horse.
"Enough!" he said in Elvish. "Go seek water and grass! Your master is safe in my hands.' Caerith threw his head up with a snort, and trotted back over to his companions. I finished giving Nimfaun and Alagos a quick brush-off, with a promise of better grooming come the morning, and they led the two mortal horses off into the woods in the direction Elrohir had taken.
"How's this?" I asked Elladan, indicating what I thought was a likely place for a fire pit. He nodded. "That looks good."
"Shall I go try to find some wood as well?"
"No. Set out the blankets will you? Make them into one big bed. The two who are not on watch tonight will stay with him and keep him warm. I will go look for wood when I am done with this, if Elrohir has not returned with some. Elven eyes are better in the dark."
I laid out the blankets of all four of us in as soft a bed as I could contrive, rolling my cloak into a pillow, then helped Elladan carry the Prince over and settle him in. He sighed in relief as we laid him down, and almost immediately drifted off to sleep. Elladan checked his pulse, and frowned slightly.
"Stay with him," he told me quietly. "I am going to go see what's keeping Brother." At that moment, Elrohir returned, waterskin slung over his shoulder and carrying a large armload of wood. He brought the wood to me, and took the waterskin over to Imrahil. With a bit of effort, he roused him and persuaded him to drink, then settled him back.
"Come brother," he told Elladan, "There is quite a bit of deadwood out there. Let us go get more before it becomes totally dark. Nothing for poultices, but I found some mushrooms."
"Mushrooms?" Elladan's ears didn't perk up exactly, but he certainly became very attentive. "Where?"
"I will show you. Snowsteel, will you start the fire?"
"Of course. You two be careful. Is there anything I should do for the Prince while you're gone."
"Keep him comfortable. Talk to him if he wishes it. Watch him carefully while he sleeps. If it seems as if he is getting worse, try to send to Elrohir. Heat up some water for tea or washing once you have the fire going. That is all you can do," replied Elladan. "We will not be gone long." And they departed.
By the time they returned, I had a fire ready, and was heating a small pot of wash water for the Prince. Elrohir commandeered the fire so that he could fix supper, and Elladan chased me away from the Prince so that he could give him a sponge bath, for the Prince refused to have me anywhere about when that was done. Feeling rather rejected all around, I sat down with my back to a tree, and drifted off. I was roused some time later by Elrohir who presented me with a cup of wine and a plate that contained mushrooms fried in bacon and bread that had seen better days a week ago, but wasn't half bad when toasted with cheese on top.
"Eat your dinner and go to bed, Snowsteel," he told me. "We have another hard ride tomorrow. Elladan and I will do the watches tonight."
"When are you going to get some rest?"
"We traded off a bit today, while riding. I would watch while he dreamed, then I would dream while he watched. We will be well enough. But you have had the hard work of it today. Get some sleep, for you will need your strength."
I went over to the blankets, took off my armor, weapons and boots and slid in beside the Prince. His forehead was warm, but the rest of him felt chill to the touch, so I snuggled in as closely as I could. He made an indistinct noise, and shifted a little towards me. After a bit, Elladan came over, divested himself of his equipment, and slid in on the other side, after checking Imrahil's forehead and pulse.
"Will he be all right?" I asked quietly. Elladan looked troubled.
"That I do not know." Calmed and warmed by our proximity, the Prince settled more deeply into sleep. I soon followed.
In the middle watches of the night I awoke to the sound of retching once more. Elladan and Elrohir both supported the Prince at the edge of the blankets. This time, it was not dry heaves, and there was a coppery tang of blood in the air. I rolled out of the blankets, put new wood on the fire, and fetched the waterskin and a cup and towel. The retching lasted for a couple of minutes, to be followed immediately by some sort of horrible seizure, the likes of which I had never seen before and scared me half to death.
When all was done, Imrahil lay a spent, unconscious, blood-spattered wreck in Elrohir's arms. All thought of any more sleep was abandoned as the three of us labored make him as clean and comfortable as possible. This was somewhat difficult to do, as he'd sweated through or bled on almost everything he possessed in the last day. But we cleaned the blood from his face and chest and hair, and clad him in his last clean shirt. When he woke again an hour later, we gave him some cool water to rinse his mouth out and drink. Then, because he protested against being laid flat again, I sat in the blankets and held him in my arms against my shoulder, stroking his hair gently, and talking to him as I had during the day. He protested weakly that such efforts on my part were unnecessary, but he was clearly more comfortable being held thusly and eventually he lapsed into slumber once more.
The dawn did not bring reassurance. The long lines of orange light that shone into our dark forest citadel lent no color to his gray face. And there was a sunken look about his eyes that struck fear into my heart, for I'd been on too many battlefields to not have seen that look before. His was not the face of a man who was going to live to see two sunrises after this one, or even one.
Elladan and Elrohir were fixing breakfast silently, but I could tell that Elrohir was speaking to his brother mind to mind. When he felt me, he looked up and gestured that I should join them. Moving very carefully, so as not to jostle the Prince, I slid out from underneath him, and tucked the blankets closely around him. I then stretched thoroughly, and made my way over.
"We have been discussing what we should do today," said Elrohir in a very low voice. "Whether we should ride on or stay here." He handed me a bowl of porridge, and a spoon.
"Why would you want to stay here?" I murmured, taking a bite. "We need to get him to Lorien."
"I carry some poppy with me, in case one of us is seriously injured," said Elladan quietly. "It would ease his pain." Astounded, I stared at him.
"Then why haven't you given it to him already?" Elrohir answered for his brother.
"Because, Snowsteel, it's not something you want to do to someone in his condition if you think there's a chance they'll survive." I stared at the two of them, their starry eyes dimmed by sorrow.
"No!" I exclaimed softly, in denial of their superior knowledge and my own eyes. "You said your father could help him!"
"And so he could, we believe, even now, where he here or Imrahil there," murmured Elladan, not without sympathy. "But too great a distance lies between. I do not believe the Prince will live to see Lorien. And in the unlikely event he does, I fear he will be too far gone for even Father to do any more than what I propose to do here."
"With all due respect, my lord Elladan, you've been wrong before. We mortals only get one life. You'd best be very certain of yourself before you shorten his!" Elladan's face paled, and his lips tightened. I realized suddenly that I was treading on thin ground, for this was the face he'd worn when slaying the orcs.
"And you, Snowsteel," he said in a voice of honeyed venom, "You had best be sure that your desire to subject him to an agonizing ride is because you truly believe he is strong enough to survive it, and not because you cannot bear to tell Faramir of the death of his uncle." We were glaring at each other in mutual offense, when a quiet voice came from the other side of the fire.
"You know, it is peculiar. I seem to be losing my sight, but my hearing works....as well as ever. I think perhaps.....that we should all have a little talk."
"Gentlemen, my lady," Imrahil said softly, between labored breaths, "I ....would have the truth from you." Elladan knelt down beside him and took his hand gently.
"What is it you would know, my lord prince?"
"How many days to Lorien from here?"
"If we continue at the pace we set yesterday, we will arrive there tomorrow afternoon."
"Can the horses.....keep going at that pace?"
"Nimfaun and Alagos, certainly. Your two--I'm not sure."
"And is it....your considered opinion......that I will last that long?" He closed his eyes against a sudden spasm of pain and drew his uninjured leg up a bit, stifling a groan.
"That is also something about which I am not certain, my lord," said Elladan regretfully. The spasm passed, and Imrahil relaxed again, taking a deep, gulping breath.
"But what do you believe? I....know all about how healers are not supposed to kill hope, Elladan. But I have asked....the truth of you."
"I do not believe you will survive to see Lorien, my lord," Elladan admitted. Imrahil smiled wryly.
"There, that was not so hard, was it? And if that is the case.....then it seems certain arrangements should be made."
"Arrangements, my lord?"
"Yes. Would you all come closer? I'm not....seeing particularly well right now." Elrohir came over and knelt beside his brother. I set my uneaten porridge down, went to the Prince's other side, and took his other hand and squeezed it. He turned his head in my direction.
"Hello, Hethlin. First, the three of you must swear that if I should die....my family will never know what really happened. I took an arrow in the heart.....and was dead before I hit the ground. I never felt a thing. That.... is what you will tell them. Swear it." We all swore by our fathers that that was what would be said, and Imrahil smiled once more, this time with relief.
"Good. There is no sense in....grieving them with the details of this. Secondly.....Hethlin, death cancels an oath of fealty--"
"My lord, you're--"
"--Do not interrupt me, child. It's hard enough to talk as it is. You were sworn to me, not my house.....so if I should die, your promise to me is done. But that still.....does not free you from your oath to the King." He turned his head slowly towards the twins. "So, if I die, I want the two of you...to promise you'll speak to the King. Tell Aragorn that if....I was ever of any service to him, he will release Hethlin from her oath.....and let her return to Ithilien, where she has lands, and friends."
"If that is what you wish, Imrahil, then Elladan and I will see it done," said Elrohir softly, though he gave me a peculiar look.
"Hethlin, in return for your life back," and here the Prince actually managed to give me a pained grin, "there is something I want you to do for me."
"Anything, my lord," I promised. The grin widened.
"Oho! That was easy! I am....almost tempted to extract all sorts of promises.....from the lot of you while I have the chance! Such as having the two of you"-- and this was addressed to the twins--"leave poor Eomer of Rohan alone." Turning back to me, his voice grew serious once more. "This is a simple one, though.....one you should not mind. I want you to promise...to look after Faramir for me. Not for the rest of your life. That would hardly be fair. Just...for a couple of years, till the lad is settled. If things go badly....he will be hurt, and needing his friends about him. It is not good....to be disappointed too often. Or to lose...too many people that you love. I sometimes wonder....if that were not his father's problem."
"You can rely upon me, my lord." He nodded slowly.
"I rather...thought I could." He sighed, stiffened once more in pain, then relaxed. "One more thing. If it becomes necessary, do try to bury me somewhere... I may be found again later. I should like to lie with my wife at Dol Amroth. There. Arrangements taken care of. Let me know....when you are ready to ride. For I think I do wish to ride. If it turns out I must perish, I would prefer to do it.....on the back of my warhorse.....and in the arms of a gallant lady. Must be....because we're in Rohan." His eyes closed.
"My lord, I have something that--" Elladan began in the gentlest of voices.
"--I know, my lord prince. And if I require it, I will let you know." The voice was suddenly that of the man who had held the western half of Gondor safe for most of his adult life. "Now give me a moment with Hethlin, please." The twins went off to finish their breakfast, and he opened his eyes and looked in my direction.
"Hethlin, this is not......the tragedy you think it is. All those young boys who died....at Ithilien and Osgiliath and Minas Tirith....and the Morannon--that is a tragedy. I have had a loving wife.....four beautiful and clever children who happen to love me, a.....perfectly wonderful little grandson, wealth and power, victory in battle against impossible odds--it would be...churlish in the extreme to complain just because....it was cut a little short. I am a very....fortunate man."
"If you say so, my lord."
"I do. Now, we both have jobs to do. You...have a message to deliver to our new Queen. And I.....I have to prove that Elladan doesn't know what he is talking about. Go finish your breakfast." His eyes closed once more, and he said nothing else.
I squeezed his hand gently and brought it to my lips, and received a faint smile in response. Tears stinging my eyes, I got up, and despite his command, walked out of the camp and indeed out from under the eaves of the forest, into the rising sunlight. Only one thought filled my mind as I did so--that I had killed the Lord of Dol Amroth. For if I had not been so insistent on his coming to Lorien, this never would have happened. He would still have been safe in Minas Tirith, advising the King and playing with his grandson. The grandson, at least, was too young to remember him clearly or grieve much should he pass. But the delightful, quirky family who'd gathered about him as its center after one sad bereavement already.....they would be inconsolable. And Faramir, whose uncle was not only the father to him that Denethor should have been, but the rock he leaned on in an uncertain world, might be something even worse.
I had promised Imrahil that I would look after Faramir, but wondered if I were going to be able to fulfill my oath, or if Faramir might come to blame me for his death. And as I stood there in the growing light, my mind played over endlessly my memories of the Prince--his loving farewell to Faramir before we left for the retreat; his gentle compassion in the middle of a pitched battle, as he took his wounded nephew from me on the Pelennor; his whimsical delight in a child's cloud game the day of our picnic. His sympathetic concern at court when my life had been wrenched onto a new and unforeseen path, and the following day, after the assault. His wistful desire to see Lorien, and the gentle affection of his farewell to his family in the courtyard of the Citadel. The way he'd seen to my welfare first after the orc battle, though his own hurt had been the greater.
He was a warrior, and a gentleman in the truest sense of the word. I strongly suspected that the only reason he was going to ride out today was that he believed that I would feel better if we kept trying to save him to the very end, not because he had any real belief that he was going to survive. That he would be willing to undergo such agony simply to make me feel better was simply indicative once again of the sort of man he was. Inwardly, I raged against the unfairness of life, for he did not deserve the degradation and pain of what was happening to him now. He may not have felt it to be a tragedy, but I certainly did. Through our link, I could feel Elrohir's concern and sympathy.
*It is not your fault, Snowsteel. He is a prince of men, and follows his own road. It was the desire of his heart, not your suggestion, that brought him to this pass.* I did not answer as the tears began to spill down my cheeks, though he knew I had heard him. Instead, as is often the case when folk are in extremity, I sent a silent prayer to the One, that He could heal Imrahil, or give him the strength to last till we could reach Lorien, or succor him in some other fashion. The rising sun glared into my tear-filled eyes so badly that I turned my back to it, and drew my sleeve across them. Sadly, I looked across the dark-green expanse of the Fangorn Forest to where it lapped at the feet of the Misty Mountains, then up the shadowed grey-purple of their flanks to where the morning sun kindled their snow-crowned peaks to glowing white-gold. A tiny black speck circled there, soaring on the warming currents of the morning air.
I thought at first that my teary eyes must be tricking me, that it was merely a hawk or buzzard circling above Fangorn itself, but when it vanished behind a peak, then reappeared, I realized that it was in fact above the mountains themselves, and that if I could see it at this distance, it was a huge bird indeed.......
Hope flamed then in my heart, new and bright and fierce, and without thinking of what I was doing or even knowing exactly how I was doing it, I gathered all my fear and sorrow and need and prepared to send them forth in a soul-deep call for help. Alarm sparked through my link with Elrohir-- *No, Snowsteel! You have to anchor!*--but I ignored him and launched myself out, and suddenly, faster than any wings, I had crossed the distance, I was there, soaring in the morning light, gazing down upon the wide world spread beneath me--and I was answered.
*I hear, nestling. And I come.* White light splintered behind my eyes, and pain flared in my chest. I fell into darkness and knew no more.
I woke to a truly incredible headache, and a chest ache, and the presence of a shadow looming over me. Someone was slapping my face lightly and repeatedly.
"You! Have! To! Stop! Doing! Things! Like! This!" said Elrohir's voice. I groaned, and the slapping stopped. "No matter what you may think, it is not my life's calling to reunite your body and spirit whenever you come up with some new and clever way to rend them apart!" I felt him move, opened my eyes slowly, and found that I was nose to nose with the beautiful elf lord, who was straddling me and leaning on his elbows. His eyebrow arched.
"Awake yet, Snowsteel?"
"Aye."
"Did you manage to talk to it?"
"Couldn't you tell?"
"No, I can't hear them." Elrohir seemed disinclined to move for some reason, so I decided to help him by placing my hands on his ribs and lifting him off. Strangely, I was incredibly fatigued and my rather feeble shove did not work, so on impulse, I dug my fingers in. To my very great surprise, he immediately yelped and rolled off of me. Filing away the very important piece of information that Elrohir was extremely ticklish for future consideration and plotting, I sat up slowly and painfully.
"Aye, I talked to it. It's on the way. Or rather, she's on the way. Will they carry people? I thought I could ask her to bring your father to us. Or take the Prince to Lorien. If she won't do that, then maybe she could take the arrow and a message, and bring us some medicine back."
"I know that Gwaihir has carried Mithrandir a couple of times, and Mithrandir went into Mordor with three Eagles to bring Sam and Frodo back. Surely she would do this for you."
"I don't know. But I suspect we're about to find out how much influence I really have."
"Are you feeling all right now?"
"Aye. But I'm really tired for some reason." Elrohir gave a sigh of long-suffering patience.
"Snowsteel, do you remember when I rescued you from the Grey Lands, and Elladan was chastising me about overextending myself and stopping my heart?"
"Aye."
"Well, there you have it."
"You mean I--"
"Very nearly."
"Oh."
"Say 'Thank you, Elrohir.'"
"Thank you, Elrohir."
"Say 'You must allow me to express my gratitude in a more tangible way.'" I looked at him flatly for a moment, and he grinned.
"Ah well. Worth a try. Why don't you wait here for your friend? I have already told Elladan what is going on. He is not particularly happy, but he is going to write a letter to Father."
"What's the matter with Elladan? Surely he is glad that we can save the Prince."
"Oh yes. He just won't like that we have to use an Eagle to do it."
"What did he do to the Eagles? Or the Eagles do to him?"
Elrohir smiled wickedly. "I suspect that you are going to find that out soon enough, Snowsteel. And I will not even have to be the one to tell you. Ah, but things are looking up, are they not?" He strode off, whistling cheerfully in the brightening morning light.
The Eagle arrived a little over an hour later with thunder of huge wings. Elrohir had warmed my porridge back up and brought it and some toast out to me. He had used some of his precious honey in it, and with the prospect of rescue for my lord, I found that my appetite had returned. I finished my breakfast long before she came.
"I am Gwaenaur," the Eagle told me, and I frankly stared, for she was half again as large as the Windlord and her feathers were more reddish than I remembered his being.
"Hethlin, daughter of Hallaran, of the House of the Eagle," I said, remembering my manners and bowing. "My kill is yours."
"And mine yours, nestling. What is the nature of your difficulty? You look to be in no danger to me."
"It is not me, it is my....chieftain," I explained, hopefully couching it in terms she would understand. "He was struck by a poisoned orc arrow two days ago, and lies near death. We have been trying to get to Lorien, but fear that he will not last long enough to reach help. I had hoped that you might be willing to take word to Lorien, and bring Lord Elrond to us here, or that you might take my chieftain there." The Eagle cocked her head to one side in that way that they had, and regarded me with one platter-sized golden eye.
"We are not beasts of burden, nestling. Have your elders not told you this?"
"My father died before he could tell me about you at all, wind lady." I gave her a beseeching look. "I would not ask were the need not great."
"What a world it has become, when a scion of the House of the Eagle does not know her own heritage." The great beak clacked in disapproval or annoyance, a very impressive sight. "Who is this chieftain to whom you owe allegiance?"
"Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth." The head swiveled, and the other eye regarded me.
"The Swan Lord? The males who went to the Black Gate spoke highly of him. Gwaihir said he was very polite." I was beginning to get the idea that good manners were very important to the Eagles.
"Aye, wind lady. And he is, very polite indeed."
"Where is this chieftain? I will look upon him before I decide."
"He is a short way within the wood. We camped there to avoid the orcs." Though Eagle faces did not lend themselves to much in the way of changes of expression, I got the idea that this did not much please Gwaenaur. But she made no comment as she started waddling towards the forest beside me. I remembered Elrohir's remark about large piles of dirty brown feathers. It was perhaps not quite that bad, but the earth was certainly not her element.
Since the trees were so old and vast, the first branches were a great distance from the ground for the most part, so she did not have to duck her head. But there was no way she could have spread her wings and taken off, and this made her uneasy. She became even more agitated when we arrived at the campsite, and she saw Elladan. She fluffed her feathers and made a loud, angry hiss.
"Despoiler! How came you here? You keep poor company, nestling! Say he is not your mate, for if he is, we will come to you no more!"
"No, lady, he is not my mate. The sons of Elrond travel with us." I was rather worried at this development, but Elrohir, though he had made sure he was close to Elladan, did not seem to be frightened or concerned.
Gwaenaur hissed once more, then seemed to dismiss the matter, and paced over to where Imrahil slept by the fire. She regarded him with one eye, then the other, then turned her head almost upside down and looked at him that way.
"The upper airs are cold. He does not look as if he would survive the journey." I nodded.
"He may not, and if he does not, it is no fault of yours, wind lady. But if he remains here with no help, he will not survive either."
"I see that. The Elves are not the only ones who see more than what is in plain view." She seemed deep in thought for a moment. "Very well, I will do this thing. But there will be a price."
"Whatever you wish, wind lady, I will do it," I promised. It was perhaps rash of me to swear so, but I felt reasonably sure the Eagle would ask nothing of me that I was not capable of undertaking. Her head swiveled in my direction for a moment.
"It is not you who will pay the price, nestling, but him." And she fastened her gaze upon Elladan, who stiffened and gave her a glare.
"If you wish me to take the Swan Lord to Lorien, then the son of Elrond must, upon his return to Imladris, go to that place which he knows of, and return to us that which was taken from us--with an apology." Elrohir chuckled.
"Ah yes, we come to it at last!" Elladan snorted scornfully.
"It was eight hundred years ago, and he grew another one back six months later. You people just need to let it go." I was afraid the Eagle might hop over there and nip his head off, but she simply regarded him calmly.
"Do you still have it then, son of Elrond?"
"It hangs above the hearth in my room in Imladris. A far nicer place for it than one of your nitty nests." There was a decidedly arrogant curl to his mouth.
"Then as it is close to hand, it should be a small matter for you to return it." The Eagle was being very polite and calm, I thought, under the circumstances. Elladan was being so intentionally provoking that I was about ready to nip his head off myself.
"I slid halfway down that mountain on my rump! I broke my arm! And I was picking bits of rock out of my.....skin for six months afterward! I bled for that feather, and I intend to keep it! What use have you for it anyway?" The Eagle cocked her head.
"Why none at all, really. It is, as you handed ones say, the principal of the thing. He was called Splittail to the end of his days. It was very humiliating."
"It's not my fault you people are so obsessed with appearances!" Gwaenaur clicked her beak at him.
"Our former Chieftain's tail-feather is the price for a passage to Lorien this morn. Will you pay it or no? Decide swiftly, for the day advances, the wind is warming, and I weary of being ground-bound." Elladan glowered at her, Gwaenaur fluffed and hissed at him once more, and Elrohir watched all of us as if he found this the most entertaining event of the Third Age thus far. I wanted to shake Elladan till his pearly teeth rattled, but pleaded with him instead.
"It is the Prince's life we're talking about here, Elladan! Surely that is worth humbling yourself a little bit."
"I paid for that feather with pain, Snowsteel."
"However much you suffered," I snapped, "I doubt it was anywhere near what the Prince has endured this last day and a half! Stop acting like a child!" Elladan turned his three thousand year old glare upon me, but I was past caring. I swore to myself then and there that if he let the Prince die because of a stupid feather, I would come North and see that the whole of Eriador knew about it, from Forlindon to the Misty Mountains. Elrohir gave me a surprised look, and spoke up quickly.
"Brother, you have held it long enough. Let it go." Elladan looked down at Imrahil for a long moment, then said softly, "Very well, you may have it back."
"I would have your sworn word, son of Elrond." Elladan bridled at that, but the Eagle was adamant, and in the end, he capitulated
"I swear, by my name and my house, that on my return to Imladris, I will go to the Place of the Eagles and return to them the tail-feather of their former Chieftain, with an apology for the humiliation I inflicted upon him and upon his house." Gwaenaur shrugged her wings a bit, and shook herself.
"Very good. Wrap your parcel well against the cold, and bring him out to the Forest's edge. I will await you there." And with no further ado, she turned about and began walking slowly out of the wood.
We wrapped the Prince in his cloak, pierced and laced close beneath his chin, so that the hood would stay up on his head, and all of our blankets. Beneath, he was clad in his shirt and gambeson, and his spare tunics were carefully wrapped about his leg and feet. Tucked within the gambeson was the tube containing the arrow, and a letter from Elladan to his father, detailing what we knew of the Prince's condition, and what had been done to him thus far. He roused somewhat when we readied him, but his fever had risen once more, and this time he was not coherent. He was also not happy when the twins bound the blankets lightly about him with the cord they carried in their saddlebags, but we deemed it necessary to insure that he stayed covered in the rushing wind. He wriggled a bit in protest as Elladan and Elrohir carried him out of the forest, then subsided into a glassy-eyed stupor.
Gwaenaur, who had taken to the air once more, landed when we brought him forth and laid him on the grass. She looked with approval at our packaging.
"That should serve. I will be as gentle as I can, but a little padding never goes amiss." The twins stepped back, and I knelt beside him quickly, and kissed him on the brow.
"Valar guard and guide, my lord." He gave me an unfocused look and did not respond. I stood, and stepped back as well. The Eagle walked forward, and ever so carefully closed her left claw about Imrahil's shoulders. She then began beating her wings, and placed her right claw rather more loosely about his legs. Three good, hard downbeats, and she was airborne. The Prince cried out as she launched herself, then was silent. Pumping hard, she gained altitude swiftly, and before long was but a small black dot, shrinking as it flew north and a little east. The three of us stood and watched till it had vanished completely, then Elrohir threw an arm about my shoulders and Elladan's, and squeezed us both.
"You gave him the best chance you could, the two of you," he said. I looked across him at Elladan.
"I am sorry, my lord prince, for speaking to you so." Elladan gave me a sad smile.
"No, Snowsteel, sorry I am that I made it necessary." Elrohir grinned.
"Now that we are all one big happy family again, let us go find those lazy steeds of ours! I propose we ride as far as the Limlight, swim it and spend the rest of the day drying out and resting." Nodding agreement, we went back into the dimness of Fangorn to begin packing.