Many Thanks: To Princess Faz for scores of e-mails and midnight phone calls to discuss plot, and to Benji, for NUMEROUS beta reads.
For the Love of a Brother, Part II
Faramir's grip on Shushuah's arm tightened and his eyes blazed with total concentration at her words. "What did you say?" His voice was deadly. "What do you know of my brother?" His grasp on her arm began to hurt and when she gave a small whimper of pain he quickly released her, a slight look of apology flitting across his features before his blue eyes hardened once again and he stared at her intently.
"Is it not true?" She looked up at him, her dark eyes searching his face. "You are looking for your brother, the one with hair like yours, and green eyes?" She knew it was true, it had to be, it could only be him.
"Why do you say that, lady?" Anduron's voice was also tense and threatening.
"He told me you would come," Shushuah spoke breathlessly, her words for Faramir alone. The fear that had overwhelmed her in the last few moments transformed into amazement and she gave a happy little laugh of relief. "He said his brother would come." Just as quickly the laugh faded and she took Faramir's hands, her expression serious. "You must go quickly, my lord, he is badly hurt and very ill." Her voice was beseeching.
Faramir looked at her, his mind reeling. Everything about her sudden appearance had made him wary and on guard and more than willing to believe she was a spy or decoy of some sort. Yet he could not simply dismiss any news she might have of Boromir.
"Hurt?" His hands gripped hers tightly and Shushuah could see the fear that suddenly darkened his eyes.
Her voice dropped and her face became serious. "I fear for his life."
He turned to his captain, a part of him wanting to insist they leave immediately, follow this girl into the distance and find his brother. The other part of him knew, however, that she could also be lying, the exact decoy he had believed her to be when she first started speaking. Anduron read all of this on his face in a matter of seconds. He motioned for the girl to sit and she did so, self-consciously withdrawing her hands from Faramir's and lowering herself to the sand. Faramir paced in a circle as Anduron began to question her.
"Who are you?" His voice was hard, letting her know he did not trust her, regardless of Faramir's feelings.
"My name is Shushuah," she said softly.
"What are you doing out here, in the desert?" Anduron's gaze bored into her. "Do not lie to me."
She hesitated, "I am traveling with my father, and others." Her eyes dropped and she gazed through lowered eyelashes at the young man walking agitatedly behind her questioner. He ran a nervous hand through his reddish hair as she watched and she saw his eyes watching her.
"Your father," Anduron considered this answer. "Who is your father?"
Shushuah thought for moment, wondering how to avoid giving her father's name, which she felt sure this soldier of Gondor would recognize. "He is just a soldier, my lord." She looked past the older man and rested her gaze once again on Faramir, who had halted his pacing and was now standing behind his captain and watching her keenly.
"Just a soldier?" Anduron snorted. "Soldiers do not travel with their families, in Gondor or in Harad. He must be someone of importance."
The girl looked down at her feet and said nothing. "Please, my lord," she said in a low voice, "I am just a daughter, traveling with my father." She raised her eyes to Faramir and smiled hesitantly. "You look like your brother," she said quietly.
Anduron quickly measured up the situation and motioned his lieutenant to follow him out of earshot. A few steps further out in the sand he turned away from the girl and faced Faramir. "You will get more out of her than I will. She will no doubt tell you all you want to know," he said. He shook his head in amusement at Faramir's look of surprise. He glanced over his shoulder before looking back at his young lord. "She likes you, can't you see it?"
Faramir flushed. "I hardly think she knows if she 'likes' anyone after five minutes –"
Anduron interrupted him. "Well, whatever you want to call it, you are the one she wants to talk to, Faramir, I can see it on her face. She knows who you are, too." He looked at their captive again. "Now whether that is because she really has talked to Boromir, or is indeed a decoy of some sort, I don't know, and I don't think she will tell - me." He motioned toward her with his head. "Go on, see what she will tell YOU."
Faramir returned to Shushuah, seating himself directly opposite her on the ground and looked deeply into her eyes for a moment. She saw again how much like his brother he appeared, save his eyes were azure rather than green, and the worry and fear in that penetrating gaze told her he needed to know anything she could tell him. Reaching out and taking her hands again, Faramir gave her a gentle smile and said simply, "Tell me about my brother."
"Oh, my lord." She leaned forward and the story spilled out, from the moment she had first seen Boromir in her father's tent four days ago up to the sick and injured wreck of a man she had left behind when she galloped off only an hour past. Faramir closed his eyes and dropped his head at times as she spoke, barely able to stand the words, but each time when she faltered, he would encourage her with a quiet, "Go on."
Anduron watched from a few feet away, trying to gauge whether she was telling the truth, trying not to let himself be swayed by her appearance or actions, but only listen to the story she told. She spoke with quiet sincerity, sometimes stumbling over the words as she tried to tell all that she knew of the Gondorian captive in her father's possession. Anduron could see Faramir was struggling to keep his composure as she talked, and knew he, at least, believed her tale.
When at last she finished, there were tears in her own eyes. "I am afraid, my lord, afraid he is going to die, and my father does not care." She thought back to the words that had sent her fleeing the camp and her black eyes suddenly flashed with anger. "He said he would die here or in Dalania, it did not matter which." She stopped suddenly, staring at the ground before her, seemingly lost in thought. "My father does not care, he will let him die. He loves no one and cares for no one." She took a breath and composed herself, then pressed her cheek to Faramir's hands, still held tightly in her own. "You must go, my lord, you must go and save him."
Faramir gently pulled his hands free and stood up, thoughtfully staring down at her. He tried to force the details of her story to the back of his mind, but was unable, the picture of Boromir lying bleeding in the sand surrounded by enemies refused to leave him. He had suspected as much, of course, but her confirmation of his fears only made him more certain his other, more dire suspicions would come to pass.
He turned away for a moment, forcing himself to think logically. She could be lying, she could have been sent by the Haradrim specifically to mislead them, to trick them into attempting a rescue, or at least showing themselves. Were the Southrons that subtle? He did not know. Turning back he concentrated on her face, trying to find some way of discerning whether or not she was telling the truth. She returned his stare with none of the terror she had displayed earlier, her eyes seeming to be clear and without guile. He looked at his captain, hoping for some guidance.
Anduron saw the struggle on his face, feeling the same opposition in his own thoughts. He crossed his arms and looked down at the girl, "Why should we believe you? How do we know you aren't lying?" He did not make his voice harsh this time, just asked the questions as he truly felt, uncertain and hoping for something that would convince him of her truthfulness.
She looked up at him for a long moment, and he saw her lower lip tremble. A tear slipped from her eye and traced down her cheek where she wiped it away with the back of her hand. "I do not know, my lord. I cannot make you believe me." She pulled up the edge of her robe to dry her eyes and suddenly stopped, looking at a dark stain.
"This is his blood," she said softly. She lifted it toward Faramir like an offering. "This is his blood, it is not even dry." Faramir's eyes locked on the blue material and the rusty smear as the girl's tears continued to course down her cheeks. "I cannot make you believe me, my lord, all I can tell you is he is hurt and he is suffering and I can do nothing, only you can help him." She waited a moment but receiving no answer from the soldiers before her, she lowered her robe and wept, holding her hands across her face.
At length she raised her eyes to Faramir's. "I do not want you to suffer, either, my lord. My own brothers died last year in a great plague in our city, and I would not want anyone to feel the way I did then." Faramir swallowed hard and had to look away from her gaze. She wearily brushed away her tears with her fingers.
Anduron realized suddenly she was only a girl, full of romantic dreams and the uncomplicated thinking of the young. He could see that her heart had been touched, first by Boromir's injuries and his, to her, strange and exotic appearance, and now by the younger brother who shared his looks and was so desperately seeking him.
Shushuah's black eyes stayed locked on Faramir and when he finally looked back at her she held her hands out to him in supplication. "Something has guided my way to you, my lord, so perhaps it is fate that you find him." Her dark eyes softened again with tears. "Otherwise he will die."
Faramir straightened slightly and faced his captain. "I believe her," he said in a faint, flat voice. "I believe her, and I am going to follow her and find him."
Anduron nodded. He lowered his voice so Shushuah could not hear him. "I believe her, too. She has too many details for it to be a story made up simply to draw us out. And the little things she knows, the death of your mother long ago, the way Boromir would correct her calling him a prince, these are things that ring true." His lieutenant nodded and they each stood thinking in the quiet evening air. Anduron finally spoke, thinking aloud, planning his next move as he continued. "We will have to move tonight, they cannot be too far ahead. We can try to – "
"My lords," the girl's voice interrupted their conversation. She had risen from her seat in the dust and was worriedly staring across the desert. "It is getting late, I must go back. If I do not return, my father will send someone to look for me, and my tracks will lead them here."
Both men gave her a look of disbelief. "You cannot go back; you cannot let them know we are here," said Anduron.
She stared at him, stricken. "I will not reveal you, my lord, but you must release me. My father will send someone. He will not let the night pass without my return." She pointed to the sun touching the horizon.
The captain shook his head. "Lady, we cannot allow it. If you tell them about us –"
"I will not tell!" Shushuah said angrily. "I promise you." She groaned with frustration, knowing her father would not wait long before sending out a search party. "I must get back, or they will come. Please!" Seeing from the look on Faramir's face that he was unsure, she reached out and took hold of his sleeve. "I will not betray you, I swear it. And I will care for your brother." Her eyes were riveted on the young man before her.
"My lord!" Anduron spoke vehemently. "We cannot send her back. She will tell them where we are, how many we are, everything." He frowned at the girl and watched Faramir's face anxiously.
Faramir stood indecisively. Beside him the girl held onto him, her face pleading. He looked at her, not knowing exactly what he was hoping to find in that dark countenance, but he found it and motioned Ethanar to hand over her pony's reins. As Shushuah climbed into the saddle he passed the reins to her, holding them until she met his gaze. "His name is Boromir," he said quietly.
"Faramir, no!" Anduron spoke quietly but his voice held anger.
"Tell him I am coming." Blue eyes engulfed Shushuah. "Tell him Faramir is coming."
"I will my lord."
She whirled the horse around and cantered off into the dusk as the Rangers nearby began preparing themselves for a stealthy march across the dark desert.
Anduron crossed his arms in frustration and walked away a few steps. Faramir could see him trying to control his temper. When he turned back he glared at his lieutenant.
"She will tell. She will let them know we are here, and they will kill him and then come after us."
"No," Faramir kept his eyes on the tiny horse that was disappearing into the distance. "She will not speak of it."
"How do you know?" Anduron asked angrily.
Faramir sighed and turned back to his captain. "Because of what she said, about her brothers dying last year. Because she said she did not want me to know that kind of pain." His gaze met Anduron's, his eyes shadowed with sadness and understanding. "Because she knows what it is to lose someone that you love."
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Shushuah met Jekarr and her father's guard little more than halfway back to the camp. They were, of course, looking for her, and seemed pleased to find her returning on her own.
"Your father was worried," said Jekarr. "You should not run away like that in the desert, it is too easy to lose your way."
Shushuah could feel her heart suddenly pound with nervousness and gave what she hoped was a normal laugh. "I am not one to lose my way." She trotted her horse past them, praying they would simply turn and follow without asking where she had been. To her relief, they did.
"He was also worried about how angry you were." Jekarr spoke quietly, sliding his eyes toward her.
Shushuah looked down at her hands, trying to give the impression she had seen the error of her ways. "I know, Jekarr. I was wrong to shout at him, and ride off. I will apologize, as soon as we get back."
"Good," he said. "He is a fine man, 'Shuah, and an excellent soldier. You are young, and innocent of the ways of war. Your father is just doing his duty with this prince of Gondor."
"And my father always does his duty," she said under her breath before stopping herself and forcing a compliant smile onto her face. She nodded as though in understanding but said nothing. They rode the rest of the way back to the camp in silence as darkness fell.
When they arrived in camp, Shushuah forced herself to go immediately and seek out her father. He was sitting before a small fire, drinking wine from an ornate cup. Seeing her, he rose and she quickly approached him and sank down on her knees, bowing her head. "Forgive me, my Father, I was wrong." She called forth Jekarr's words, making them her own. "I am young, and know nothing of war and strategies. I know you are doing your duty, I am sorry." She waited, unsure of his reaction, keeping her eyes downcast.
Al-jur Dhan took her hand and raised her to her feet. "Look at me, 'Shuah," he commanded. She followed his order, hoping her eyes would not betray her. He saw the fear in them, but mistook it for concern that he would not forgive her. "You are all I have left, my daughter," he said. "Do not turn from me, do not let this enemy from the north tear us apart." His tone made his words a threat, not a request. She ignored that fact and shook her head.
"No, my father, I will not."
"I hope so." He released her hand. "He is not worthy of your pity, 'Shuah. The men of Gondor are a hard race, cruel and heartless, full of lies." He stared into the fire, brooding.
Taking a drink from his cup he seemed lost in thought. He sat down by the fire again, looking at his daughter. "Are you hungry?" He gestured to a basket beside him heaped with dried fruit and bread. When she nodded he filled an empty plate and offered her a seat beside him. She made herself sit and eat without asking about the prisoner.
"Where did you go?" her father's question caught her off guard.
"I – uh – just rode around in the desert." She said, wondering if he was trying to discover something more.
"Did you see anyone?"
She looked at him in surprise. "No, Father, I did not." She took a drink from the cup he offered her as he gave her a long look.
"No one?" he asked.
"No, my Father, no one." She felt a nervous trickle of sweat roll down her back.
"Hmm" He looked thoughtful. "I thought perhaps one of the scouts we left at the river would have caught up to us by now."
Shushuah relaxed slightly. "I saw no one, and I rode west for almost an hour."
Dhan nodded as he stared into the fire. "We will reach the caves of Falou tomorrow. Perhaps we should wait a day or so there and see if they reach us."
"A day or two?" Shushuah could not keep the sudden worry from her voice as she asked the question and she felt a cold chill of dread creep across her when her father's sharp eyes looked at her knowingly. "I mean – it's –"
He sighed and placed his cup on the ground before him. "'Shuah, he is going to die, you know that, don't you?"
She said nothing, shocked that her father had understood her concern so quickly, and fearing that he spoke the truth and the prisoner would die before his rescuers could come for him. If he could just make it another day, she thought to herself, he would be safe once they came. When his brother came – a sudden chill went up her spine as the realization came to her. The only way for them to take him would be by force.
A picture of attacking Gondorian soldiers and defending Haradrim swam before her eyes momentarily. The men of Gondor were so few; they could not defeat the men of Harad, who were more than twice their number. They would be cut down, destroyed, and the prisoner would die regardless. She buried her head in her arms and tried to block out the awful vision. Why had she not realized that before?
"'Shuah?" Al-jur Dhan reached over and touched her arm.
She looked up at him, her face inscrutable. "Are you sure he is going to die?" she asked, her voice quavering.
Her father narrowed his eyes, feeling there was more to her question than it appeared. "Yes, 'Shuah, I am sure." He saw her face fall. "I had truly hoped to get him to Dalania, but Jekarr and his metal arrowhead seem to have cheated me of that. The infection is going to kill him before too many more days. He will probably die while we are waiting at the caves."
"Then can we just leave him in the desert?" Her question caught him off guard.
"What?"
"He is suffering so on the horse, my father." She looked at him with sad dark eyes. "If he is going to die, let us just leave him behind." Shushuah waited for his response, her mind racing. If they could leave the captive behind, his brother would find him, she was sure of it. There would be no slaughter tomorrow. She stared up at her father beseechingly, but he only looked at her with annoyance and grunted with exasperation.
"I will not just leave him. Even dead he should be worth something to the King. We have his equipment to prove his identity…" He was thinking out loud now and did not notice the trembling of his daughter's hand as she held her cup. "We can bury the body in the sand and then collect it the next time someone comes through, after it has dried out. Easier to carry that way."
"Why don't you just kill him now and be done with it." Shushuah's voice was shaking with anger and suppressed tears.
Dhan stopped speaking and gave her a look of surprise. "Because of you." Seeing her confusion he shrugged. "You have grown fond of him, too fond in my opinion, but I would not turn you against me by killing him now."
"Especially not when he is going to conveniently die for you anyway," she said bitterly.
Her father pursed his lips and was silent. Hot tears fell onto Shushuah's hands where they were wrapped around her cup and she sniffled. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a several moments until at last Shushuah cleared her throat and stood up. Leaving her cup in the sand, she went and bent over her father, pressing her cheek to his. He could feel the wet streaks from her tears. "May I see to him before I go to bed?" she asked in a hushed voice.
Her father took her by the shoulders and held her away from him, looking at her closely. She met his gaze with her head up, even though she had to bite her lip to keep it from trembling and her wet eyes reflected the firelight.
"If I tell you no, you will not obey, you will sneak away as you did this morning, won't you?" The general watched as Shushuah's eyes hardened and met his. He sighed. Al-jur Dhan had gained his fame as a strategist, and he knew when to retreat from a battle. With a sigh of defeat, he nodded. "He is over there." He indicated a small tree on the edge of the camp. She bowed and walked away, leaving him staring at her cup for a long while.
On her way to the tree, Shushuah picked up a water skin and a blanket, vowing to herself that the Gondorian would at least have the comfort of knowing his brother was coming for him. She found herself wondering if any of the northern soldiers would survive, would there be more captives in the camp tomorrow night? And what of the younger brother? Would he live through a fight with her father's soldiers? Shushuah had seen the look on his face and knew he would never give up until he had found his brother or was dead himself. She thought of her own brothers and how much she had loved them, how she would have done anything to save them. No, only his own death would stop the man with blue eyes.
She felt the tears spilling from her eyes again and swiped a hand across her face. She berated herself for her stupidity, her ignorance. She had only wanted to save the captive, to keep him alive, not send a dozen men to be slaughtered by her father's soldiers. Now they were coming, and she could do nothing. Nothing except wait and try to comfort the man they were coming for with words of false hope.
Nearing the tree, she saw he had been once again tied to the stake driven into the ground, his arms bound behind him; although tonight he lay stretched out on his side, his face in the dust.
Kneeling beside him, she tenderly stroked his cheek, feeling the warmth of his fever. Leaning over as close to his ear as possible, she whispered his name, "Boromir." His face twitched slightly and she whispered again, "Boromir." After a long while, his eyelids slid open and she could see the glint of his eyes in the moonlight. He tried to raise his head but could not so she lifted it for him, half rolling him onto his back so she could raise his shoulders and let him lean against her. Each movement brought a weak cry of pain from him. At last she had his back pressed across her knees, his head resting in her arm like a newborn.
Holding the water skin to his mouth she urged him to drink, but he closed his eyes and turned his head away, the simple act of swallowing beyond him. "Come, my lord, you must," she said, brushing her fingers lightly across his lips and carefully dribbling the water upon his tongue so he would not choke. His muscles moved unconsciously and she smiled with pleasure as the small amount of water went down his throat. "Good boy," she said, forgetting for a moment where she was and who was in her arms, remembering instead the countless hours she had spent at her brothers' bedsides, and her mother's, desperately trying to get them to drink something. She poured a few more drops onto his tongue.
She eventually got him to take small sips from the water skin and as he swallowed she repeatedly breathed his name and her words of hope into his ear, even as she thought to herself they were in vain. "Boromir, your brother is coming for you, Faramir is coming." Once as she spoke he stopped drinking and his eyes opened slightly and met hers as if he understood, but she could not be sure. Still, she kept speaking, as if she could somehow will him to comprehend.
When at last she could not get him to drink any more she lowered him carefully back to the dusty ground, wincing each time he made a sound of distress. She could not even bring herself to look at his injuries, knowing they would only be worse than that morning and she could do nothing for him. She contented herself with covering him with the blanket and carefully combing his hair with her fingers, avoiding the strands matted with blood.
"Your brother is coming, Boromir," she crooned softly, "he is coming." His eyes were closed again, but she repeated the words, hoping he would understand. She thought he did because it seemed like the faintest of smiles crossed his lips. She bent down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, never seeing her father as he watched from a short distance away. Al-jur Dhan's face hardened and he walked back toward his campfire.
Shushuah tucked the blanket around Boromir and went to her bed, rolling herself snugly in between the heavy blankets. She lay for a long time dreading the coming of morning, wondering how she could have changed things, done something different so that neither of the brothers would have to die. She found no answer and felt the tears rise up again. Pressing her hands against her face, she cried, quiet, smothered sobs, until at last she fell asleep, still weeping.
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In the morning, Shushuah awoke with a nervous flutter in her stomach. Something would happen today she was sure. She had seen the look in the younger brother's eyes and he would not wait very long before he made a move.
She considered telling her father about the soldiers following them but held back. He would be angry that she had not told him earlier, she knew that much, and she feared he might kill the captive immediately. What's more, it would make no difference, she thought, the men of Harad would still be nearly three times as many as the men of Gondor. She shuffled ideas over and over in her head, but each time the result was the same, the fair-skinned northern men would die at the hands of her father's soldiers.
Several times she caught her father watching her, a strange look on his face, but each time when he realized she had seen him he quickly turned away and busied himself with other tasks.
She had gone to Boromir early in the morning and again offered him water, her spirits lifting when his green eyes opened at the sound of her voice. Pulling him up into a sitting position as gently as she could, she guided the water skin to his mouth and let him drink. She glanced around her before she whispered his name. "Boromir." The green eyes widened and met hers. "He is coming," she said, looking into his eyes intently. "Your brother – "
"Time to go." Jekarr's command came from nearby, startling her and stopping the rest of her words.
Shushuah forced herself to remain silent as the guard had the pony kneel and hoisted Boromir's limp body into the saddle. He had been unable to stand this morning when they pulled him upright or even kneel, and so he had laid in the sand until he was forced onto the pony once again, his feeble moans of pain raking at Shushuah's heart. She could see the blood and infection seeping from the hip wound as the guard pulled the ropes tight that bound his legs to the saddle and the horse.
"Shushuah." Al-jur Dhan motioned for his daughter to ride beside him this morning as they set off. She hesitantly trotted her pony up to the front of the column and matched its stride to that of her father's. His obsidian eyes rested on her for a moment, seeming to probe into her soul, and she felt decidedly uncomfortable. At last, he spoke. "I know what you did last night."
She felt a cold shock in the pit of her stomach and looked away from him, fixing her gaze on her hands holding the reins before her. She wondered what her father would do to her, knowing she had lied to him, had not just seen the soldiers of Gondor that were following but spoken to them, given them information. Her heart was hammering so hard in her ears she barely heard his next words.
"How long have you known how to speak the Westron tongue?" Dhan's voice was silky, yet curious, a dangerous combination from her experience.
She felt a cold weight in the pit of her stomach. "My Father, I – I know you are angry, but – "
"I heard you talking to him last night, do not deny it." Her father glared at her, his face so frightening in its anger she just looked at him with her mouth open. "I heard you using the speech of his people." His voice was trembling with rage and without warning he leaned toward her, grabbing her arm in his dark hand. "Not just talking either, 'Shuah. You were touching him like – like – " he could not make himself go on. "You kissed him!" Horror and fury were mingled on his face.
Shushuah suddenly realized he had followed and spied on her last night when she had been caring for Boromir. She could see his anger and quickly lowered her gaze and tried to find a way to calm him. "I am sorry, my Father. I knew you would be displeased – "
"Displeased!!" He shouted out the word, causing others in the column to look at them curiously. "Why would you think that? You thought that I would be displeased because you were spending your time with a criminal like Mohem learning a foreign tongue so that you could speak to our enemies. Why would that displease me?" He saw the astonishment on her face. "Oh yes, I have already spoken to Mohem, I know all about your lessons."
He released her arm and stared at her with murderous eyes. "You thought I would be displeased to see you throwing yourself at a man who is our enemy, who would kill me and probably you if he had half a chance." His was breathing heavily now. "You thought I would be displeased to find you pretending to yourself that he was some suitor you were entertaining, rather than the dying piece of filth I know him to be?" He seemed to catch his breath and stopped himself.
Shushuah had been staring at him in dismay as he ranted. Now as he paused for a moment she found herself getting angry, and for the first time in her life raised her voice to her father. "My Father, I am not throwing myself at him, and I am not pretending he is a suitor! Just because I try to treat him with some kindness does not mean I am in love with him!"
She stopped abruptly and looked away for a moment to calm herself. When she turned back to meet his eyes her voice was quiet again. "He is sick, Father, you said yourself he is going to die. I do not want him to die alone, no matter who he is." She paused. "All I can think of when I see him is Mo'Amar, and Jelaan, and Mother. I just want him to know he is not alone." She heard her voice breaking and a tiny sob escaped her before she clamped her mouth shut.
The Haradrim general rode without speaking for a long while, his eyes distant. Shushuah kept her pony even with his, feeling miserable and frightened, all thought of the pursuing soldiers of Gondor driven from her mind. She had realized as she spoke the words that she did fear Boromir would die alone, unaware that anyone cared for him. She remembered her older brother, thrashing incoherently in his bed his last day before the fever took him; her mother, fading away after days of unconsciousness. Only her little brother had known she was there, she had held him close as he slipped away from her. She wept quietly as her pony picked his way across the desert floor. At last her father spoke.
"Do not speak their names to me again." His voice was strained and he did not look at her. He kicked his pony and rode away from her without looking back.
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They reached the caves of Falou by midday and Shushuah waited, letting the time pass until her father was occupied with settling in the soldiers before she went searching for Boromir. He had been pulled from the horse he rode and carried further back into the maze of caves to a small storage area, and left lying on the sandy floor. A solitary torch lit the small room, casting its faint light only a few feet in any direction. She knelt down and smoothed the sweaty hair back from his flushed face, her hand lingering on the scabbed over scratches on his feverish cheeks. "Boromir, hold on," she said, "Now you have some time to rest." There was no answer from the man before her.
"'SHUAH!" Her father's voice bellowed from the front of the cavern and she quickly jumped to her feet and hurried to meet him. The look on his face when she arrived at the main chamber told her he suspected where she had been. He turned to Jekarr, who straightened and bowed his head, causing Shushuah to wonder what was happening. Abruptly her father turned and jerked his head toward the front of the cave.
"Come, we are going." He walked past her without further comment, leaving her to run after him in confusion.
"Going? Where?" She halted in front of the cave, seeing her own grey pony and her father's black had not been unsaddled, along with those of the servants, several of the packhorses and a small group of the Haradrim soldiers.
"To Dalania," said her father, checking the binding on his pony's saddle. At his word the servants and soldiers remounted their ponies and waited. Shushuah took a step away from him as he faced her.
"No." She heard her own voice as if from far away.
Immediately her father was beside her, his hand like a vise on her arm, his eyes burning into her. "Get on the horse, 'Shuah." He jerked her toward her pony.
"I will not," she cried out, trying to pull away from him.
"You will." He pushed her against the pony's shoulder, his black eyes bottomless. "I will not stay here while you fall in love with him, just to watch him die and remind you of – them. I will not do it. Get – on – the - horse."
"But Father," she began to cry as his hand squeezed her arm cruelly. "Let me say goodbye. I cannot just go."
"Yes, you can. He will not even know if you tell him goodbye or not." He forcibly turned her and put her foot into the stirrup. She did not try to resist him, unused to opposing him, and unable to see through her tears. He boosted her up onto the pony's back and then quickly mounted his own. Jekarr had come to the front of the cave to watch their departure and Dhan looked down at him. "Let me know when you get to Dalania." Jekarr nodded and reached out to pat Shushuah's foot.
"Don't cry, 'Shuah," he said comfortingly. "Remember, it is all for the best."
She shook her head and looked down at him. "Don't let him die alone, Jekarr, please." She spoke through stiff lips, her face coated with tears.
Jekarr shook his head in amusement and raised his hands as though to appease her. "Yes, yes, not to worry. I will keep an eye on him."
She knew he was only humoring her and screamed with frustration. "I mean it, Jekarr! Do it!" She stopped herself and lowered her voice. "Do it for me, please?" Her father took the reins of her pony and started off, leaving her to do little more than hold on and weep. "Don't let him die alone," she called out, "Jekarr!"
They rode away into the hot desert afternoon, Shushuah's eyes locked on the caves until they disappeared from her sight. Al-jur Dhan never looked back.
TO BE CONTINUED