Disclaimer: This story is non-profit and written for purely entertainment purposes. All recognized characters and places are property of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema.
A/N: My heartfelt thanks to those of you who left a review! It's a constant struggle to write this piece, and your wonderful comments are so uplifting and encouraging. :)
I had every intention of posting this chapter earlier, but then I reread it and, well, it didn't go over too well. (Let's just say Legolas isn't the only one floundering at the moment.)
Éowyn has always been one of my top three favorite LOTR characters. I worry I didn't do her justice, but I tried my best. :)
Happy Reading!
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~ Chapter 16: The Messenger ~
Bergil cast a sidelong glance at Aragorn, wondering what thoughts ran through his liege's head. The King had said little since their departure of Rohan five days ago. Whatever his thoughts were, he kept them to himself, and Bergil could discern very little. Even Bitaliel had fallen to contemplative silence, broken on occasion by her bouts of odd song. Finding her words far too eerie and unsettling, Bergil preferred to ignore the madwoman.
He fidgeted half-heartedly with Rhosharrow's reins, narrowing his eyes against the setting sun and suppressing a sigh. The hills were bathed in crimson and to the east, the stately Ered Nimrais mountains took on dusky violet hues. Scanning the rolling hills, Bergil could not help but wonder how the sea would appear. He had never before seen the open waters with his own eyes. 'Will it resemble these hills, I wonder? Or mayhap it is akin to an endless plain—smooth and flat as glass.'
A small spark of adventure and wanderlust flared within the depths of his heart. He was but two days from the sea. Two days from a world he had heard only in tales, where even the air tasted of salt and the water stretched beyond both mortal and immortal eyes.
"Let us make camp in the boulder ring ahead." Aragorn's voice broke over the evening lull, just as Bergil had convinced himself the rolling gait of his steed was actually that of the sea's waters.
Following the other's outstretched arm, Bergil squinted and offered curt nod of affirmation. "As my lord wills it."
Bitaliel's brow constricted, eyebrows drawing together and mouth becoming pinched and taut. Bergil grimaced and prepared himself for the oncoming fit. He did not notice Aragorn do the same.
"No," Bitaliel said loudly, beginning to knead the front of her skirts. "No, no, no, NO! Let it lie with the stone, let the moss and dirt cover it, that none may ever see!"
"Oh come off it," Bergil muttered with a scowl. Though Aragorn did not catch the words, he nonetheless caught their tone and sent Bergil a sharp look. The young guard swiftly lowered his head.
Aragorn studied the madwoman intently. "Speak plainly, my lady, for I shall not waste time deciphering your riddles."
Bitaliel only grew more agitated. "Already taken. Claimed by the Sea! Taken by the Sea's spawn! Taken! Taken!" Bitaliel's shrieks rent the air. Her mount to sidestepped nervously.
Bergil's scowl deepened. The woman was perfectly sane until she wanted to get her own way. Why were the words of the mad always treated more cautiously than those of the sane? 'I do not suppose Captain Haier would be near as understanding were I to throw tantrums over shifts not to my liking.'
Aragorn's cool grey eyes flickered in warning as Bitaliel took to screaming unintelligible oaths. "That is enough, my lady." His command was soft but stern. "Your outburst does naught to avail us. Rather, you draw unwanted attention."
Bitaliel merely spat at him.
Kicking her mount with her heels, she forced the gelding to sit back on his haunches and bolt across the hillside. Aragorn and Bergil watched her retreating form with similar expressions of aggravation. "Mayhap she will gallop over a cliff," Bergil said, voice pitching a little too hopefully.
Expecting sharp reprimand, he was somewhat surprised by Aragorn's dry response. "Nay—the horse is too smart."
Bergil blinked, feeling he had just caught a glimpse of Aragorn rather than King Elessar. The moment was fleeting though, and the king returned in the next instant. "I will set up camp within the boulders," said Gondor's liege. "Fetch her before she has ridden too far."
Bergil brought a hand to his chest in crisp salute, then wheeled his steed and charged after the blind madwoman. Maybe a good sound gallop would pound some sanity back into the old bat.
With a wry shake of the head, Aragorn turned and made his way towards the boulders. He reined in his mount as he drew near and frowned. Something was not right. He could feel it intuitively, in the slight tightening between his shoulder blades and the prickle along his spine and arms.
He dismounted and drew his sword. The blade shivered in anticipation as it was withdrawn from the sheath. The boulders waited in shadowed grey silence, the final rays of evening glinting orange off various divots in the rock. Wispy tufts of grass growing within the boulders' shadow rustled hesitantly. Aragorn approached cautiously, his steps light and quick. Sword aloft, he swiftly eased between the boulders.
The ring was empty, save the ashy white remnants of an abandoned campfire. Aragorn's eyes narrowed. The ground was raked and torn—there had undoubtedly been a scuffle of some sort. Running his hand over a darkly stained rock, Aragorn's jaw tightened in distaste. Yes, blood had been spilled. Perhaps Bitaliel was right; they would most likely have to seek out another site to rest this night.
He stilled suddenly, blood running cold as his eyes fell upon an object carelessly discarded amidst a strewn pile of wood. The weapon was as familiar to him as the one who oft wielded it.
Aragorn stared at the soiled axe, fingers tightening reflexively over sword pommel. If Gimli's axe was here…
'Then where is Gimli?'
* * *
Hadeem, renowned leader of the Bh'dul and messenger to Galathe of Umbar, stared at the woman in front of him in open curiosity.
She boldly stared back.
He blinked solemnly, yet did not lower his gaze. The corners of his lips threatened to tug upwards in smile, so struck was he by the absolute absurdity of the situation.
The border guards of Ithilien had detained him the moment he crossed into the realm. He went willingly, carrying himself with such poise even the cankerous veteran soldiers had been won over in the end. They escorted him to Lord Faramir, where Hadeem was granted audience and delivered Galathe's message to the Ithilien king as he had promised to do. He was then ushered to a lavish guest room (though the armed guards at his door and window were not lost on the Bh' dul leader), while his purpose and Galathe's words were debated amongst Lord Faramir and his advisors.
"The Lady Éowyn," Hadeem's translator stumbled along in his thick accent, "wishes to know if arrangements are suitable."
"The Lady Éowyn?" Hadeem studied the woman. Her name was not unfamiliar to him—he had heard the stories and songs, as had everyone else. She stood tall and straight, golden hair wound atop her head and face as pale and expressionless as stone. Her blue eyes burned with a fire Hadeem found cold, fierce, defiant, and merry all at once. He was nearly taken back by its intensity.
'Ice Maiden, indeed,' he thought, thin lips lifting into smile and brown eyes sparkling with gentle amusement. "Tell the lady I am satisfied beyond measure, though I wish to know of the whereabouts my stallion Ma'di." Glancing respectfully to Éowyn, he pressed his hands together and bowed as was customary amongst his people.
The translator, a bent and aging man whose bleary eyes betrayed his habit of reading by candlelight, turned and spoke quickly to Éowyn. The lady tilted her proud head while she listened, fiery blue eyes traveling over Hadeem's face in calculation. Something flickered across her face at mention of the stallion; she pressed her lips together and offered a sharp nod before replying to the translator.
Hadeem studied her carefully. He was an astute observer by nature, yet the lady seemed well practiced in the art of concealing emotions. 'Fragile as the Dove, yet possessing claws of the Lion. She is truly a fascinating creature. It is a wonder the Lord Faramir still remains in one piece after all these years.'
"The Lady Éowyn," spoke the translator in his unwieldy accent, forcing Hadeem to bend much of his concentration on deciphering the other's words, "says your cow is well."
Hadeem straightened indignantly. "Cow?"
Éowyn watched as something akin to insult flashed across the Haradrim's face. "Deesha?" he cried, fine-boned features darkening in outrage.
The translator blinked owlishly, then flushed and blurted forth several more words unfamiliar to Éowyn's ear. Whatever it was the flustered old man said seemed to mollify the Bh' dul leader, though Éowyn caught the slightly exasperated glances Hadeem continued to cast him. She made a mental note to find a new translator.
The Lady of Ithilien was not a woman easily impressed, yet she found herself intrigued by the Bh'dul leader. There was kindness and wisdom in the man's soft brown eyes, and a gentleness and grace in his movements. Éowyn wished language did not pose such a barrier between them, for she doubted not that Hadeem would be a fascinating mind to engage.
It was rumored upon his arrival that the border guards had captured a strange, dark-skinned Elf of sorts. Now that she had seen him with her own eyes, Éowyn knew Hadeem to be not of the Elf-kind. Still, his tall lithe frame and fine-boned features were quite striking, and he did have a certain lightness in his step not found in many Men.
'He is older than he appears,' the Shieldmaiden decided. 'His eyes bespeak years untold upon his face, much like the Prince Imrahil. Mayhap he does have some Elvish blood in him, though I have never heard of Elves inhabiting the desert lands.'
As Hadeem wished to visit his steed, Éowyn led him and the bumbling translator down to the stables. The great black horse nickered fondly at his master's arrival, and Hadeem smiled and spoke softly to the animal in turn. Éowyn's breath caught in her throat; the horse was a magnificent creature. The stallion's dished face and long legs were perfectly sculpted; his coat so sleek and dark it fairly shone blue.
It was then the Shieldmaiden recalled there were no black horses in Rohan. She mentally distanced herself and suppressed a frown. Sauron's minions had stolen every black horse and bent the animals to the Dark Lord's service. Even the very steeds of the Nazgûl had once belonged to the Rohirrim, bred to thunder freely across the emerald Plains. Dark-colored offspring were no longer produced by Rohan's horses. Only the Enemy rode such beasts.
Éowyn's jaw tightened as she watched the Haradrim converse with his ebony horse. 'The Enemy.'
The man from Harad had spoken to Faramir of fleets sailing up the River Anduin, manned by a fell pirate aided by Morgoth himself. A combined Haradrim and Easterling force was to launch simultaneous land assault against Minas Tirith. However, as leaders of these realms did not wish to engage their men, the army would only march if all other options were exhausted. "The Lord Galathe," Hadeem said, "sends you these tidings as show of good will. Yet know this: We fear the leader of the Corsairs of Umbar." His smooth features had been marred by displeasure as he spoke. "We are bound to him by our own superstitions and follies; our own darkness. If given no other choice, we will follow him. We must."
'Does he speak truth?' Éowyn wondered. 'Is Gondor truly threatened by the Corsairs of Umbar—by this soulless Captain Mortsdil?' She, better than most, knew what it was to be bound unwillingly. Had not Gríma Wormtongue done the same to her uncle's court? 'And yet, there is too much we do not know of him. He spoke openly of his association with Umbar… How can one live beneath the enemy's shadow and not be tainted?'
The Lady of Ithilien bit the inside of her lip, maintaining an outward expression of neutrality. They would reveal Hadeem for what he truly was within good time—be it friend or foe. Faramir would play the diplomat; she would prowl the Bh'dul leader during his time outside the courts. It was a double-teaming effort husband and wife played well.
Lost in her thoughts as she was, Éowyn did not notice Hadeem watching her beneath lowered lashes. The lithe man of Harad missed nothing. It would take much to win her trust, but too much lie at stake should he fail. He gave the stallion's ear an affectionate tug. 'I do not think even she could withstand the burn of Melkor.'
* * *
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Gimli released an involuntary moan. His eyes fluttered momentarily, as though debating on whether or not to return to consciousness. Wooden floorboards creaked beneath his feet; the air was so hot and stuffy he could barely draw breath.
The Dwarf again moaned. His head pounded so mercilessly his eyes throbbed. His chest and back were on fire, and the incessant rocking nearly set his stomach in his throat.
"Wakey, wakey, Dwarf."
Eyes snapping open, Gimli lunged forth with a bellow as a bucket of foul-smelling seawater was dumped over him. It was then he discovered himself manacled. Spitting out stagnant water, the Dwarf twisted furiously in his bonds. Salt stung numerous wounds he did not remember receiving. "Where am I? What manner of foul play is this? I demand you release me at once!"
His captor—'A corsair,' Gimli realized with sinking gut—chuckled.
"Welcome to the Umbria, Dwarf. Umbar's finest sailing vessel." The ragged pirate grinned, revealing a mouth of green-grey teeth. Gimli was reminded distinctly of a weasel. "Captain'll be glad to see you up and about."
The tiny cabin pitched forward. Gimli's stomach pitched with it. He fairly felt himself turn green.
"'Course, he'll not be back fer a few days." The corsair leered, oblivious to the Dwarf's discomfort. "Which means we get to have a bit o' fun with ya in the meantime."
* * *
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2 lab reports and 3 papers demand attention within in the next week. I apologize in advance for any delays.
THANK YOU
Rose Sacred- Surely you know Elves can breathe underwater? *doesn't manage to dodge jab from stick* No more pointy stick! No more pointy stick! Pirates… Oh if only that were still a career option. Alas, I must settle for marine biologist. ;) Thank you for the review!!!
erunyauve- You know, I don't think the call of the sea is necessarily a bad or painful thing. But it is, as you said, "primitive." (Perhaps too much of a good thing.) Thank you for the wonderful review!!
e- Oh don't worry! Aragorn isn't chasing after Gimli and Legolas because of the stone (well, unconsciously he is a little bit), he's chasing after the two because he's concerned for them. Ranger Senses have kicked in full blast—he knows they're going to end up in trouble of some sort. Unfortunately, so is he, but that's beside the point. ;) Don't worry, Mortsdil will get his just reward. Yes, Aragorn would choose Legolas over the stone. But remember: he caught Legolas red-handed. One of his most trusted friends was stealing from him. That's enough to make anyone understandably upset. I've always thought the Silmarils were Tolkien's way of speaking against technology. Feanor created something he shouldn't have; he essentially defied the Valar by trying to play Vala. Thank you for the fantastic review!!! :)
fliewatuet- *lol* Well I'm glad to see the tale hasn't disappointed thus far. Personally, the thing is somewhat of a thorn in my side, but I'm getting excited because I'm beginning to see the proverbial glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. (Yessss!) You assumptions of Eomer are correct! Hopefully the section in this chapter explained the detained man (Hadeem) a bit more. Er, poor Gimli didn't seem to fare so well against the odds, did he? To his credit, he fought bravely. ;) Thank you for the wonderful review, it's great to hear from you again!!!
Lamiel- Legolas is frightfully angry with me, I think. Thranduil isn't too thrilled either, seeing as I've managed to kill his son and have him poached. But barbed wire and locked doors are good for something, I suppose. (Nice Elf… Niiiice Elf.) I'm thrilled you share my views on Dwarf torture. *evil grin* It is only fair. I admit I will be positively ecstatic when this tale is finished. It's immensely draining—I have so much respect for those who are able to right angst on a regular basis. I have no idea how they do it. I'm awestruck, to say the least. *blushes* Oh wow, thank you! It's so strange and thrilling to hear my work is admired! (Especially as half of the time I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.) ;) Thank you for the amazing review!!! :)
Kay- Sorry! 'The End' just kind of popped out of nowhere, and despite my best efforts I couldn't repress it. I tried, I really did. Tried half-way, anyways. Please forgive me? :) Legolas gets to flounder until next chapter (let's hope he's not too pruned by then). Thank you for the review!
Thundera Tiger- Okay, so maybe—maybe—Khamûl was justified in chasing Number Five, but was that whole scream and torture bit necessary? He nearly made my Nazgûl cry. Granted, Your Thranduil's comment about Number Five "being afraid of his own Shadow" wasn't all that kind, but still. Actually, your pressuring has been one of the driving forces behind updates. I would have abandoned it long ago if it weren't for your constant prodding. Horrible, cruel, slave driver you are. *grin* I'm a huge fan of "Fear No Darkness" as well! I love Your Thranduil to death, and his interaction with Legolas… oh it's priceless. I can read it over and over again. Right, I promise I will not tell Ith—er, I promise not to tell the aforementioned Writing Goddess your secret. ;) Oh yes, by all means take Lothiriel if you wish. And Elfwine. He's a cute little bugger, and he doesn't cry all that much. Eomer strikes me as a take-charge guy—it's his way or the highway. (Which is why I think he and Boromir would have absolutely hated one another.) I originally had Lothiriel acting a little more timid, but didn't like how that portrayed Eomer and her own inner strength. So while Eomer thinks he's in charge, Lothiriel has a pretty good hold on things. (Daddy Imrahil raised her well.) Gimli gets points for effort, but unfortunately the odds just weren't in his favor. *ducks head* I assure you, any "mastery" over prose and angst is a combination of pure luck and complete accident. ;) Thank you so much for the jaw-dropping review!!! I'm so honored… oh wow. I'm just going to sit here and bask in the glow of—okay, TYPE. I'm going to start typing the next chapter. Please tell Khamûl to stop reading over my shoulder. It's creeping me out. :)
kayloo- I have it on good authority the pirates are going to engage in a friendly game of cards with the Dwarf. 'Old Maid,' to be exact. Okay, maybe not. ;) I like Bergil too! How did Mortsdil find them so quickly? WELL: do you remember his "water-mirror" trick? He practices the art of scrying, so he's been following Gimli and Legolas for a while. When he sacrificed the sailor on the ship, they were already headed up the coast of Belalas (near Gimli and Legolas). Elf and Dwarf just can't seem to stay out of trouble! Thank you for the wonderful review—I'm thrilled you're enjoying this tale so much. :)
Elfling- *shuffles feet in embarrassment* The last delay caught me by complete surprise—I swear! I flew back home and my brother had taken the computer with him to school. I sort of took it for granted my parents would have internet and a computer (it was quite a shock to the system, let me tell you, when I discovered the lack thereof). I have papers to write, too! And a couple lab reports. *pauses* Oh dear. Should probably get started on them… Thank you for the review!!! :)
Kal the Magnificent- I don't think I mentioned this last time, but I do really like 'the Magnificent' you've attached. It adds so much. ;) Gimli knew Mortsdil was a pirate by the way he looked and spoke (and probably smelled). I debated on whether or not the corsairs should disguise themselves, then realized spending months at a time aboard ships probably doesn't allow much room for excess clothing. Unfortunately, er—fortunately, I can't kill off Legolas. It would be horribly un-canon of me. Plus I've already dissected him (he's still miffed at me about that). You'll have to settle for some Elf torture and Elf mishaps instead. Yes, on general roadkill is squished. But the deer I saw, well, more bloated and oddly splayed if anything. Good grief, that's an absolutely disgusting thing to write, isn't it? GREAT call on Ulmo! He'll probably have a later role to play, but Legolas is on his own for the time being. Thank you for the fantastic review!!! :)
dragonfly- My profuse apologies for 'The End.' It was cruel and uncalled for. Morgoth made me do it. ;) I whole-heartedly agree with you on Legolas. He has quite an impressive knack for getting himself into bad situations. (All the more fun for us readers!) Thank you for the review!
Sheleigh- Right, so in the quest to correct my "cold nasty heartless" being, I put on a sweater, hugged three people, and found my heart in the back right pocket of my jeans (silly thing, how did it end up there?). Still have yet to find my mind, so if you happen to see an extra brain lying around, I do believe it's mine… As far as the writing addiction goes, I'm a big fan of The Patch. Those mini inhalers just look ridiculous. Oh wow, thank you so much for the amazing compliments! *blushes* Geeeeeze… Thank you so much!!
daw the minstrel- The slightly insane side of me is beginning to think Sea Longing is really a wonderful experience for Elves, and they just claim it's all angst and suffering. Milking it for all it's worth, if you ask me. Sneaky little immortals. Maybe I ought to expose them… *snicker* ;) Thank you for the review!!
JastaElf- It wasn't me, it was the Elf! I told him to stay away from the water, but nooo. Let this be a lesson to you, Greenleaf. Cheers for my dad—the woodsman with one good eye who can still shoot better than me. :) I left out the part in that narrative where I grab the old longbow and attempt to hunt the elusive upholstered chair (with a blunted arrow, of course) in the basement. I missed the chair, bruised my forearm, and came dangerously close to skewering the cat—who, apparently, did not realize the dangers of running AT an arrow. I'll stick to tracking and leave the shooting to my father. ;) Thank you for the wonderful review, JastaElf!!
Elberethia- *distracts fanfiction hounds by throwing several sheets of paper at them and hopping onto the subway. The 'captured' papers prove to be nothing more than an old research report on invasive species in US coastal waters.* Muwahaha— *subway turnstile jams, effectively pushing all air from gut* Ouch. Here it is! Here's the chapter! Nice doggies. OUCH! Call them off! Call them off! ;) Oh yes, there will be Legolas torture… Thank you for the review!
SpaceVixenX- Oh wow, thank you! I really am trying to update on more of a regular basis though, especially now that the end is slowly but surely drawing near. Thank you so much for the review!! :)
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