A/N: Thank you Elrenia Took of Rohan for your kind review!!
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The ride to the outpost was mostly uneventful. Spring was finally here after the long cold winter. Some of the trees were already blooming, their perfume scenting the breeze, and long-dormant plants were beginning to show green through the leaf litter upon the forest floor. My men and I reminisced along the way about some of our prior adventures, though we were careful to avoid the subject of Osgiliath, none of us ready to relive that day quite yet. Though the five of us were yet safe, having seen no sign of danger, I still felt uneasy, and many old, painful memories came unbidden to me. I found that the scar on my shoulder where I had been wounded during the retreat was now throbbing dully, though it had completely healed well over a year ago. I realized that I had been rubbing at it absently as we wound our way southward along the Harad Road. The ride would require three days of brisk riding before we would arrive at the outpost, so we camped along the road the first night, pleased by the clear weather.
As we companionably sat around the fire that first night, the rangers inquired after my wife, having only briefly met her on our wedding day. I assured them that she was well, though she had expressed that she would be lonely while I was away from home.
"She is a lovely woman," said Damrod with a smile. "Would that I had a pretty, young wife waiting for me at home, Captain."
There was a chorus of agreement from the other men, and then they quieted, obviously waiting for me to comment upon the joys of marriage. It was not difficult.
"She is wonderful," I began wistfully, then I smiled. "I highly recommend marriage, men. I have encountered nothing in life more cheering than spending time with Éowyn, doing even the most mundane tasks. I love her with all of my heart." I thought for a moment as they sat in rapt attention. "I feel that she is my reward for the long years of strife that I have endured."
"And none deserves to be happy more than you, my lord," said Beregond.
There was yet another chorus of agreement, and I looked to the ground, embarrassed by their enthusiasm, yet glad of it anyway. They toasted Éowyn and me as they again passed around the wineskin, and it was quite late when we all finally laid down to sleep, leaving Beregond on the first watch of the night.
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Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I suffered my nightmare yet again and woke to the sound of my own screams. When I came to myself, I was sitting up, surrounded by my men who had crowded around me in concern.
"Another dream, Captain?" asked Mablung, and I nodded, running my shaking hands through my hair.
"Yes, I have had them quite frequently again of late," I sighed. Someone handed me a waterskin which I accepted gratefully, taking a deep swallow of the cool liquid before passing it back.
"What was it this time, if you do not mind my asking?"
I sighed. "It is an old dream, Mablung, though one that I did not have before the retreat." To a man, they nodded in understanding, though I was certain none of them really could understand this particular nightmare. I reassured them that I was fine and to please return to their blankets. They did, though somewhat reluctantly, I thought. I laid down as well, but I found, as usual, that I could not fall back into slumber. As I was lying there, tossing upon my blankets, I overheard Anborn and Damrod quietly speaking.
"Captain's dreams have only ever meant one thing, Dam."
"Aye, danger, An. I will stand watch with you for this turn." I grimaced to hear them so speak, though it was true. Ever have I experienced portentous dreams, and rarely have they ever foretold aught of good. With a soft groan, I sat up again and perused the contents of my pack until I found quill, ink and parchment, and by firelight, I wrote a short missive to Éowyn:
My Dearest Éowyn,
I have not yet been gone even twenty-four hours from your
presence, and I already miss you so much that I am more than a little
tempted to turn around and rush home to your waiting arms. I hope you
do not mind that I am writing you so soon after my departure, but I
find that I cannot sleep, and so I needed an agreeable way to pass the
time.
There is no news as of yet. My men and I have spent the day
getting reacquainted. I had not realized how much that I had missed
them all until we were back around the fire, sharing stories. They
asked after you and complimented you as well, expressing their envy of
us in no uncertain terms.
Please take good care of yourself while I am away. I promise to
you that I shall do the same until I am returned safe to your arms, my
love. And remember, I expect that demonstration of your bedside
demeanor as soon as I return! Please, try not worry about me, as I am
with the best men in all of Gondor's army.
I love you with everything that I am.
Faramir
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The next day was much the same as the day before, though I noticed that the men were quieter, they kept their weapons a little closer, their attention more focused upon the wood around them. I knew that it was all due to the dream that I had the night before. Always when we had been together, they had looked upon my nightmares as warnings sent by the Valar to protect us all. Personally, I was certain that the dreams could not be divinely inspired, as they were usually so violent and frightening, but the rangers seemed to feel that they were, since we had all been saved on more than one occasion by one of them.
And so everyone was more tense that day and the next day, and we rode just a bit faster in hopes of reaching the River Poros that much sooner, gauging that any trouble we might have, would be found upon the road.
We began to descend into the vale of the Poros about the time we stopped for lunch, and we arrived at the outpost on the north side of the river at mid-afternoon of the third day. It consisted of four wooden buildings, a barracks for the men to sleep in, a stable for their horses, a dining hall, and a small administrative building where the commanding officer would keep a desk. There was no wall surrounding it, but a perimeter had been set up around the post, and there were guards posted around it. As we approached, a shout went up, and almost immediately the outpost commander appeared. I dismounted immediately and greeted him. He was called Lieutenant Odrastor, a young, wiry man who conducted himself with a sternness I had not often seen in one of his age. He had received word from King Elessar a week ago that I would be arriving shortly, and so he and his rangers had spent the interim making certain that all was in proper order for my visit.
He brought all of his men into formation before the barracks. Surprisingly, there was only a humble force of fifteen men in evidence. They were friendly, though they seemed somewhat nervous to meet me. I tried to put them at ease by spending a short time speaking with each of them, trying to get to know them as well as to judge the level of their morale.
As I was the lieutenant's superior officer, he then offered to give me command of his troops which I refused, explaining that I had not come to interrupt the usual flow of things, only to use his outpost as a base camp for a few days while I looked at the surrounding lands. He seemed to regard this as improper but simply bowed in deference to my wishes and said no more on the subject as he dismissed the men to return to their duties.
We were then shown to our cots in the barracks. Odrastor apologized for the humbleness of the surroundings, and I assured him, as my men laughed softly, that comfortable cots under a sound roof were much finer than we had been accustomed to when originally we were posted in Northern Ithilien. Lieutenant Anborn sent the men to see to our mounts while we stayed behind to chat with Odrastor.
We spoke for some time about the lands of South Gondor and South Ithilien in particular. The young man was very knowledgeable about the area, telling me the mundane information about the surrounding lands: crop yields, types of fish found in the river, typical trees that grew nearby, usual weather for the different seasons. Most of this information was old news to me, and though he was well versed, the information was quite dry, and so I asked him if he would care to join Anborn and me for a walk around the camp, hoping that we might somehow thaw his rather frozen demeanor.
He agreed, and his mood improved somewhat when Anborn proffered him a drink from our wineskin. Odrastor continued to speak about the area and mentioned almost casually that recently there had been sighted several bands of Haradrim lurking just on the other side of the river, as if they had been scouting, perhaps looking for food, but none had dared approach the outpost proper. This was most unwelcome news as the Haradrim were not to be trifled with, even in their army's weakened state.
"Has the king been informed of this?" Anborn asked, as I scanned the far bank for signs of danger.
"I had been informed that the Haradrim were oft spotted in this area by the lieutenant from whom I received this post six months ago. He said that as long as the Southrons showed no signs of aggression toward us, there was no reason for concern. Have I acted improperly, my Prince?"
"Nay, Lieutenant, I would not say it was improper, but perhaps only imprudent on the part of the man who led here before you. I shall send word to the king myself, and henceforth, you should report any movements of the Haradrim with all speed, for they are not to be trusted."
I then expressed a wish for him to show me around further the next day so that I might get my bearings and learn the lay of the land. I wanted a close-up view of the Fords of Poros, as I wondered how we might best defend it in the future if we were to come under attack from the Southrons, though I said naught aloud about that. And then I added that I was very interested in the Huadh in Gwanur, which is a grave-mound which contains the remains of some Rohirric lords who had been slain in battle against the Haradrim long ago. I thought I might sketch it and any marker that it might possess so that Éowyn might have some idea of what it looked like, since it was a part of her culture.
"It lies nearly seven leagues upstream, my prince. I have oft thought that the grave-mound would be a good place from which to observe the far shore of the River Poros, but none is comfortable climbing atop it, as they fear the wrath of the ghosts of the men who are entombed there," said Odrastor. "Even the Haradrim are said to avoid it," he laughed before adding, "I have heard, my Prince, that you are married to a woman from Rohan. What are your thoughts on it?"
"I feel that since my ancestors fought alongside those Men of Rohan that I should have nothing to fear from their ghosts, if such a thing exists."
And so we sat around the campfire outside of the barracks and all of us spoke late into the night discussing Rohan, Gondor and Harad, and the odds that the next war would come soon, since the Haradrim were ever restless in the south. When at last the lieutenant departed the fire for his own bed, I found that despite the unusual quantity of wine that I had consumed that night, I was not relaxed in the least. I once again sought my ink, quill and parchment and wrote another letter to Éowyn.
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My Dearest Éowyn,
I hope this letter finds you well. It is late here, the perfect
time to compose a letter to you as I am not likely to be interrupted,
and I should have no one looking over my shoulder and making jest.
We finally arrived at the outpost this afternoon, and I spent
the remainder of the day getting to know the men here. They seem like
good men to me, ever capable and respectful toward me and my rangers.
Their leader is a young lieutenant who reminds me much of myself when
I received my first command.
Tomorrow I am going to visit the Huadh in Gwanur, of which I am
certain you are as well informed about the history as I am. As it is
a Rohirric site, I intend to lay some flowers there in honor of your
fallen ancestors.
I wish there was more news to send to you. And it should hardly
come as news to you that I miss you terribly and look forward to when
we are once again united. Please take good care of yourself.
I love you.
Faramir
Two letters had arrived from Faramir on the evening of the sixth day after he departed. It was plain from the wording he used that he still was not sleeping well despite the fact that he had not mentioned having any more dreams. Neither did I sleep well without him. He seemed to be as lonely as I was, though it seemed that he had more to keep him busy where he was than I did at home. I had spent the first three days spending some time trying to learn how to cook my husband's favorite dish, roasted chicken. Much to my chagrin, the first bird had perished in the fire, and the second two were both raw on one side while blackened on the other. Poor Talaith, our cook, threw up her hands in defeat, and though pleasant, she banned me from the kitchens.
I did take some time also to walk around our estate, now that the weather was growing warmer and the plants and trees were waking from their winter sleep. And though I did dig in the soil a bit and plant a few seeds, I found the process somewhat joyless without my husband beside me. For one day, I had buried myself in Faramir's study glancing through his books, though I think that I spent more time dozing off than actually doing any reading. As a last resort, I went horseback riding around the area, hoping that this, my favorite pastime, would take my mind off of my husband's absence, but it was of no use either.
Luckily, I finally received his letters, and my spirits were raised considerably by them.
Faramir had mentioned that there was a grave-mound near the River Poros that I had known held two of my ancestors within it. I had heard the story of Folcred and Fastred oft enough when I was younger, twin sons of Folcwine King who had been my great-great-grandfather. They had been slain in battle by the Haradrim years ago. Never had I laid eyes upon their grave-mound, though I very much longed to someday.
After some thought, I decided that this might provide me with the perfect opportunity to visit my husband at the outpost. I considered sending him a letter the next day asking for his permission to ride to the River Poros with some of the household guard so that I might lay my own eyes upon the burial mound where my dead uncles lay. It sounded so much more entertaining than staying in Emyn Arnen and learning to cook, something at which I obviously shall never succeed.
But then, the more I considered the letter, the more I decided that I did not need Faramir's permission in order to leave the house. Was I not by marriage a ruler of Ithilien as well? And so immediately I called my maid, Serni, and asked her to pack a few things to take with me. She seemed shocked by my proposal, but wisely remained silent. Then I informed Captain Einarfin that I wished to depart for the south lands on the morrow.
"My lady, do you think that is wise?" Despite the fact that the captain was old enough to be my father, I thought his question impudent at best. He continued, "The prince would be wroth at me if I allowed you to chase after him to South Gondor."
"Captain Einarfin, the prince might be wroth with you until I remind him, and you as well, that I am a grown person, able to make my own decisions, despite my female frailty. He might stay wroth with you all of twelve seconds before his attention would be firmly fixed upon me. And as to the wisdom of this situation, I do not see where that applies. The Lord Prince has made no mention of trouble at the outpost, so other than the danger that lies in any journey one might undertake, I see no reason not to go."
"But, my lady . . . "
At dawn we departed Emyn Arnen for the River Poros. I dressed all in brown leather, abandoning my skirts for trousers. As an added precaution, I belted on my sword, hoping I would have no need of it, yet glad to have a reason to wear it once again. Accompanying me were four guards including Captain Einarfin. I had left the number up to him, and he told me that he thought four were more than I would actually need but enough to satisfy Faramir that I had been safe during the journey. My stallion, Windfola, was glad to be upon the road and wished to run, but I held him back, not wanting to outpace my escorts on their Gondorian mounts.
It was a three-day ride, and the scenery was lovely. The farther south we rode, the wilder the land became, the woods more tangled, the hills more rocky, but I also found that the closer we came to the river, the more uneasy I became. I was anxious that Faramir would be quite wroth with me for leaving the relative safety of Emyn Arnen on a fool's errand just so I could be nearer to him. But I had come much too far to simply turn back now.
Besides, I had decided that I would oppose him if he tried to send me back home. I had as much right as anyone to be there, perhaps more since I had ancestors buried near the outpost. Yet I felt guilty nonetheless. I finally settled myself by hoping that my unexpected arrival would not cause him too much dismay before I could convince him of the rightness of my being there with him.
On the last day of our ride, a heavy rain began about midmorning, and I took it as a bad omen, convincing myself that Faramir would be so wroth that he would embarrass me in front of his men and banish me to Emyn Arnen without allowing me to explain myself to him. As we began the descent into the vale, I realized that I was wroth with my husband for something he had not yet done. Shaking my head, with a wry smile, I forgave him, and prepared myself to greet my husband in a respectful manner, vowing I would wait for him to draw "first blood", so to speak, before I condemned him to the full force of my anger.
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Our routine remained much the same during the following few days we were there, rising early in the morning in order to have enough time to explore the area while Anar crossed the sky. We kept close watch for any trouble, but none came until the sixth full day that we were there.
Ominous clouds were gathering that morning as we broke our fast with porridge and smoked fish. There was a new chill in the air as well, and we all pulled our cloaks tighter about ourselves as we helped to clean up the remains of the food and prepared to greet the day. I was a bit disappointed that the weather had taken a turn for the worse, as I was particularly excited about finally visiting the grave-mound today. I would have looked at it sooner, but a small band of Haradrim had been spotted three days ago camping near a small spinney on the far side of the river, and I thought it prudent for us to stay closer to the outpost until they departed, which they had done yesterday. There was no further sign of them, but Odrastor explained that he felt he should stay close to the outpost in case they returned, also expressing his desire for me to also stay close for my own safety.
I had given Anborn, Damrod and Mablung today to do with as they wished, and they had chosen to relax and perhaps do some fishing later. Anborn also told me that he thought the journey to the grave-mound might prove unsafe or at the very best imprudent. But I would not be swayed since this might be the last chance I would have to view the Huadh in Gwanur before returning to Emyn Arnen, and despite the threat of rain, Beregond and I saddled our horses and departed the outpost at a canter, hoping to move some distance upstream through the hilly terrain before the rain began. Indeed, we had ridden nearly five leagues before the wind increased, lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and the rain began in earnest. Our cloaks did nothing to slow the drenching of our clothing, and by the time we reached the Huadh in Gwanur, we were soaked through.
The grave-mound was larger than I had expected, at least twenty feet high and twice as wide at the base, the mound covered in a thick tangle of thorny trees and bushes. There was a stone marker chiseled with Rohirric markings and the inscription when translated into Westron read:
A father grieves because his sons are lost, and yet he will rejoice
that an ally has been rediscovered, and the enemy has been thwarted.
Here lie Folcred and Fastred sons of Folcwine, their bodies rest far
from home, yet their spirits shall dwell in the house of Eorl forever.
Beregond, who did not care for rain whether he was in it or not, grumbled under his breath as I dismounted a few yards short of the hill so I that might pick some violets, crocuses and dandelions to offer to my wife's ancestors. I grinned broadly as my guard muttered something about "ridiculous weather", and then I could hardly keep from laughing out loud when I heard him say his lord "had gone daft in the head, gathering flowers like a little girl in the middle of a deluge". But I sobered as I remounted and respectfully approached the grave-mound with my bouquet, deciding once I reached it, that I would remain on my horse as a further token of respect to the fallen Horse-lords. As I leaned over to toss the bouquet onto the mound, I bowed my head for a moment of silence while Beregond sat upon his horse and watched my actions with very little interest.
When I had finished, I returned to my guard and expressed profound disappointment that it was too wet to draw a sketch of the grave-mound for Éowyn, and I am certain that I saw him roll his eyes at me before he whirled his horse quickly to face the river, obviously having heard something.
I remained silent and alert, attempting to scan the horizon through the heavy rain, but having little luck at it. But it was only a moment, and then my guard drew his sword which prompted me to quickly ready my bow.
"Lord Faramir," said Beregond in a deadly quiet tone, "Southrons approach."
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The ride to the outpost was mostly uneventful. Spring was finally here after the long cold winter. Some of the trees were already blooming, their perfume scenting the breeze, and long-dormant plants were beginning to show green through the leaf litter upon the forest floor. My men and I reminisced along the way about some of our prior adventures, though we were careful to avoid the subject of Osgiliath, none of us ready to relive that day quite yet. Though the five of us were yet safe, having seen no sign of danger, I still felt uneasy, and many old, painful memories came unbidden to me. I found that the scar on my shoulder where I had been wounded during the retreat was now throbbing dully, though it had completely healed well over a year ago. I realized that I had been rubbing at it absently as we wound our way southward along the Harad Road. The ride would require three days of brisk riding before we would arrive at the outpost, so we camped along the road the first night, pleased by the clear weather.
As we companionably sat around the fire that first night, the rangers inquired after my wife, having only briefly met her on our wedding day. I assured them that she was well, though she had expressed that she would be lonely while I was away from home.
"She is a lovely woman," said Damrod with a smile. "Would that I had a pretty, young wife waiting for me at home, Captain."
There was a chorus of agreement from the other men, and then they quieted, obviously waiting for me to comment upon the joys of marriage. It was not difficult.
"She is wonderful," I began wistfully, then I smiled. "I highly recommend marriage, men. I have encountered nothing in life more cheering than spending time with Éowyn, doing even the most mundane tasks. I love her with all of my heart." I thought for a moment as they sat in rapt attention. "I feel that she is my reward for the long years of strife that I have endured."
"And none deserves to be happy more than you, my lord," said Beregond.
There was yet another chorus of agreement, and I looked to the ground, embarrassed by their enthusiasm, yet glad of it anyway. They toasted Éowyn and me as they again passed around the wineskin, and it was quite late when we all finally laid down to sleep, leaving Beregond on the first watch of the night.
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Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I suffered my nightmare yet again and woke to the sound of my own screams. When I came to myself, I was sitting up, surrounded by my men who had crowded around me in concern.
"Another dream, Captain?" asked Mablung, and I nodded, running my shaking hands through my hair.
"Yes, I have had them quite frequently again of late," I sighed. Someone handed me a waterskin which I accepted gratefully, taking a deep swallow of the cool liquid before passing it back.
"What was it this time, if you do not mind my asking?"
I sighed. "It is an old dream, Mablung, though one that I did not have before the retreat." To a man, they nodded in understanding, though I was certain none of them really could understand this particular nightmare. I reassured them that I was fine and to please return to their blankets. They did, though somewhat reluctantly, I thought. I laid down as well, but I found, as usual, that I could not fall back into slumber. As I was lying there, tossing upon my blankets, I overheard Anborn and Damrod quietly speaking.
"Captain's dreams have only ever meant one thing, Dam."
"Aye, danger, An. I will stand watch with you for this turn." I grimaced to hear them so speak, though it was true. Ever have I experienced portentous dreams, and rarely have they ever foretold aught of good. With a soft groan, I sat up again and perused the contents of my pack until I found quill, ink and parchment, and by firelight, I wrote a short missive to Éowyn:
My Dearest Éowyn,
I have not yet been gone even twenty-four hours from your
presence, and I already miss you so much that I am more than a little
tempted to turn around and rush home to your waiting arms. I hope you
do not mind that I am writing you so soon after my departure, but I
find that I cannot sleep, and so I needed an agreeable way to pass the
time.
There is no news as of yet. My men and I have spent the day
getting reacquainted. I had not realized how much that I had missed
them all until we were back around the fire, sharing stories. They
asked after you and complimented you as well, expressing their envy of
us in no uncertain terms.
Please take good care of yourself while I am away. I promise to
you that I shall do the same until I am returned safe to your arms, my
love. And remember, I expect that demonstration of your bedside
demeanor as soon as I return! Please, try not worry about me, as I am
with the best men in all of Gondor's army.
I love you with everything that I am.
Faramir
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The next day was much the same as the day before, though I noticed that the men were quieter, they kept their weapons a little closer, their attention more focused upon the wood around them. I knew that it was all due to the dream that I had the night before. Always when we had been together, they had looked upon my nightmares as warnings sent by the Valar to protect us all. Personally, I was certain that the dreams could not be divinely inspired, as they were usually so violent and frightening, but the rangers seemed to feel that they were, since we had all been saved on more than one occasion by one of them.
And so everyone was more tense that day and the next day, and we rode just a bit faster in hopes of reaching the River Poros that much sooner, gauging that any trouble we might have, would be found upon the road.
We began to descend into the vale of the Poros about the time we stopped for lunch, and we arrived at the outpost on the north side of the river at mid-afternoon of the third day. It consisted of four wooden buildings, a barracks for the men to sleep in, a stable for their horses, a dining hall, and a small administrative building where the commanding officer would keep a desk. There was no wall surrounding it, but a perimeter had been set up around the post, and there were guards posted around it. As we approached, a shout went up, and almost immediately the outpost commander appeared. I dismounted immediately and greeted him. He was called Lieutenant Odrastor, a young, wiry man who conducted himself with a sternness I had not often seen in one of his age. He had received word from King Elessar a week ago that I would be arriving shortly, and so he and his rangers had spent the interim making certain that all was in proper order for my visit.
He brought all of his men into formation before the barracks. Surprisingly, there was only a humble force of fifteen men in evidence. They were friendly, though they seemed somewhat nervous to meet me. I tried to put them at ease by spending a short time speaking with each of them, trying to get to know them as well as to judge the level of their morale.
As I was the lieutenant's superior officer, he then offered to give me command of his troops which I refused, explaining that I had not come to interrupt the usual flow of things, only to use his outpost as a base camp for a few days while I looked at the surrounding lands. He seemed to regard this as improper but simply bowed in deference to my wishes and said no more on the subject as he dismissed the men to return to their duties.
We were then shown to our cots in the barracks. Odrastor apologized for the humbleness of the surroundings, and I assured him, as my men laughed softly, that comfortable cots under a sound roof were much finer than we had been accustomed to when originally we were posted in Northern Ithilien. Lieutenant Anborn sent the men to see to our mounts while we stayed behind to chat with Odrastor.
We spoke for some time about the lands of South Gondor and South Ithilien in particular. The young man was very knowledgeable about the area, telling me the mundane information about the surrounding lands: crop yields, types of fish found in the river, typical trees that grew nearby, usual weather for the different seasons. Most of this information was old news to me, and though he was well versed, the information was quite dry, and so I asked him if he would care to join Anborn and me for a walk around the camp, hoping that we might somehow thaw his rather frozen demeanor.
He agreed, and his mood improved somewhat when Anborn proffered him a drink from our wineskin. Odrastor continued to speak about the area and mentioned almost casually that recently there had been sighted several bands of Haradrim lurking just on the other side of the river, as if they had been scouting, perhaps looking for food, but none had dared approach the outpost proper. This was most unwelcome news as the Haradrim were not to be trifled with, even in their army's weakened state.
"Has the king been informed of this?" Anborn asked, as I scanned the far bank for signs of danger.
"I had been informed that the Haradrim were oft spotted in this area by the lieutenant from whom I received this post six months ago. He said that as long as the Southrons showed no signs of aggression toward us, there was no reason for concern. Have I acted improperly, my Prince?"
"Nay, Lieutenant, I would not say it was improper, but perhaps only imprudent on the part of the man who led here before you. I shall send word to the king myself, and henceforth, you should report any movements of the Haradrim with all speed, for they are not to be trusted."
I then expressed a wish for him to show me around further the next day so that I might get my bearings and learn the lay of the land. I wanted a close-up view of the Fords of Poros, as I wondered how we might best defend it in the future if we were to come under attack from the Southrons, though I said naught aloud about that. And then I added that I was very interested in the Huadh in Gwanur, which is a grave-mound which contains the remains of some Rohirric lords who had been slain in battle against the Haradrim long ago. I thought I might sketch it and any marker that it might possess so that Éowyn might have some idea of what it looked like, since it was a part of her culture.
"It lies nearly seven leagues upstream, my prince. I have oft thought that the grave-mound would be a good place from which to observe the far shore of the River Poros, but none is comfortable climbing atop it, as they fear the wrath of the ghosts of the men who are entombed there," said Odrastor. "Even the Haradrim are said to avoid it," he laughed before adding, "I have heard, my Prince, that you are married to a woman from Rohan. What are your thoughts on it?"
"I feel that since my ancestors fought alongside those Men of Rohan that I should have nothing to fear from their ghosts, if such a thing exists."
And so we sat around the campfire outside of the barracks and all of us spoke late into the night discussing Rohan, Gondor and Harad, and the odds that the next war would come soon, since the Haradrim were ever restless in the south. When at last the lieutenant departed the fire for his own bed, I found that despite the unusual quantity of wine that I had consumed that night, I was not relaxed in the least. I once again sought my ink, quill and parchment and wrote another letter to Éowyn.
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My Dearest Éowyn,
I hope this letter finds you well. It is late here, the perfect
time to compose a letter to you as I am not likely to be interrupted,
and I should have no one looking over my shoulder and making jest.
We finally arrived at the outpost this afternoon, and I spent
the remainder of the day getting to know the men here. They seem like
good men to me, ever capable and respectful toward me and my rangers.
Their leader is a young lieutenant who reminds me much of myself when
I received my first command.
Tomorrow I am going to visit the Huadh in Gwanur, of which I am
certain you are as well informed about the history as I am. As it is
a Rohirric site, I intend to lay some flowers there in honor of your
fallen ancestors.
I wish there was more news to send to you. And it should hardly
come as news to you that I miss you terribly and look forward to when
we are once again united. Please take good care of yourself.
I love you.
Faramir
Two letters had arrived from Faramir on the evening of the sixth day after he departed. It was plain from the wording he used that he still was not sleeping well despite the fact that he had not mentioned having any more dreams. Neither did I sleep well without him. He seemed to be as lonely as I was, though it seemed that he had more to keep him busy where he was than I did at home. I had spent the first three days spending some time trying to learn how to cook my husband's favorite dish, roasted chicken. Much to my chagrin, the first bird had perished in the fire, and the second two were both raw on one side while blackened on the other. Poor Talaith, our cook, threw up her hands in defeat, and though pleasant, she banned me from the kitchens.
I did take some time also to walk around our estate, now that the weather was growing warmer and the plants and trees were waking from their winter sleep. And though I did dig in the soil a bit and plant a few seeds, I found the process somewhat joyless without my husband beside me. For one day, I had buried myself in Faramir's study glancing through his books, though I think that I spent more time dozing off than actually doing any reading. As a last resort, I went horseback riding around the area, hoping that this, my favorite pastime, would take my mind off of my husband's absence, but it was of no use either.
Luckily, I finally received his letters, and my spirits were raised considerably by them.
Faramir had mentioned that there was a grave-mound near the River Poros that I had known held two of my ancestors within it. I had heard the story of Folcred and Fastred oft enough when I was younger, twin sons of Folcwine King who had been my great-great-grandfather. They had been slain in battle by the Haradrim years ago. Never had I laid eyes upon their grave-mound, though I very much longed to someday.
After some thought, I decided that this might provide me with the perfect opportunity to visit my husband at the outpost. I considered sending him a letter the next day asking for his permission to ride to the River Poros with some of the household guard so that I might lay my own eyes upon the burial mound where my dead uncles lay. It sounded so much more entertaining than staying in Emyn Arnen and learning to cook, something at which I obviously shall never succeed.
But then, the more I considered the letter, the more I decided that I did not need Faramir's permission in order to leave the house. Was I not by marriage a ruler of Ithilien as well? And so immediately I called my maid, Serni, and asked her to pack a few things to take with me. She seemed shocked by my proposal, but wisely remained silent. Then I informed Captain Einarfin that I wished to depart for the south lands on the morrow.
"My lady, do you think that is wise?" Despite the fact that the captain was old enough to be my father, I thought his question impudent at best. He continued, "The prince would be wroth at me if I allowed you to chase after him to South Gondor."
"Captain Einarfin, the prince might be wroth with you until I remind him, and you as well, that I am a grown person, able to make my own decisions, despite my female frailty. He might stay wroth with you all of twelve seconds before his attention would be firmly fixed upon me. And as to the wisdom of this situation, I do not see where that applies. The Lord Prince has made no mention of trouble at the outpost, so other than the danger that lies in any journey one might undertake, I see no reason not to go."
"But, my lady . . . "
At dawn we departed Emyn Arnen for the River Poros. I dressed all in brown leather, abandoning my skirts for trousers. As an added precaution, I belted on my sword, hoping I would have no need of it, yet glad to have a reason to wear it once again. Accompanying me were four guards including Captain Einarfin. I had left the number up to him, and he told me that he thought four were more than I would actually need but enough to satisfy Faramir that I had been safe during the journey. My stallion, Windfola, was glad to be upon the road and wished to run, but I held him back, not wanting to outpace my escorts on their Gondorian mounts.
It was a three-day ride, and the scenery was lovely. The farther south we rode, the wilder the land became, the woods more tangled, the hills more rocky, but I also found that the closer we came to the river, the more uneasy I became. I was anxious that Faramir would be quite wroth with me for leaving the relative safety of Emyn Arnen on a fool's errand just so I could be nearer to him. But I had come much too far to simply turn back now.
Besides, I had decided that I would oppose him if he tried to send me back home. I had as much right as anyone to be there, perhaps more since I had ancestors buried near the outpost. Yet I felt guilty nonetheless. I finally settled myself by hoping that my unexpected arrival would not cause him too much dismay before I could convince him of the rightness of my being there with him.
On the last day of our ride, a heavy rain began about midmorning, and I took it as a bad omen, convincing myself that Faramir would be so wroth that he would embarrass me in front of his men and banish me to Emyn Arnen without allowing me to explain myself to him. As we began the descent into the vale, I realized that I was wroth with my husband for something he had not yet done. Shaking my head, with a wry smile, I forgave him, and prepared myself to greet my husband in a respectful manner, vowing I would wait for him to draw "first blood", so to speak, before I condemned him to the full force of my anger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our routine remained much the same during the following few days we were there, rising early in the morning in order to have enough time to explore the area while Anar crossed the sky. We kept close watch for any trouble, but none came until the sixth full day that we were there.
Ominous clouds were gathering that morning as we broke our fast with porridge and smoked fish. There was a new chill in the air as well, and we all pulled our cloaks tighter about ourselves as we helped to clean up the remains of the food and prepared to greet the day. I was a bit disappointed that the weather had taken a turn for the worse, as I was particularly excited about finally visiting the grave-mound today. I would have looked at it sooner, but a small band of Haradrim had been spotted three days ago camping near a small spinney on the far side of the river, and I thought it prudent for us to stay closer to the outpost until they departed, which they had done yesterday. There was no further sign of them, but Odrastor explained that he felt he should stay close to the outpost in case they returned, also expressing his desire for me to also stay close for my own safety.
I had given Anborn, Damrod and Mablung today to do with as they wished, and they had chosen to relax and perhaps do some fishing later. Anborn also told me that he thought the journey to the grave-mound might prove unsafe or at the very best imprudent. But I would not be swayed since this might be the last chance I would have to view the Huadh in Gwanur before returning to Emyn Arnen, and despite the threat of rain, Beregond and I saddled our horses and departed the outpost at a canter, hoping to move some distance upstream through the hilly terrain before the rain began. Indeed, we had ridden nearly five leagues before the wind increased, lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and the rain began in earnest. Our cloaks did nothing to slow the drenching of our clothing, and by the time we reached the Huadh in Gwanur, we were soaked through.
The grave-mound was larger than I had expected, at least twenty feet high and twice as wide at the base, the mound covered in a thick tangle of thorny trees and bushes. There was a stone marker chiseled with Rohirric markings and the inscription when translated into Westron read:
A father grieves because his sons are lost, and yet he will rejoice
that an ally has been rediscovered, and the enemy has been thwarted.
Here lie Folcred and Fastred sons of Folcwine, their bodies rest far
from home, yet their spirits shall dwell in the house of Eorl forever.
Beregond, who did not care for rain whether he was in it or not, grumbled under his breath as I dismounted a few yards short of the hill so I that might pick some violets, crocuses and dandelions to offer to my wife's ancestors. I grinned broadly as my guard muttered something about "ridiculous weather", and then I could hardly keep from laughing out loud when I heard him say his lord "had gone daft in the head, gathering flowers like a little girl in the middle of a deluge". But I sobered as I remounted and respectfully approached the grave-mound with my bouquet, deciding once I reached it, that I would remain on my horse as a further token of respect to the fallen Horse-lords. As I leaned over to toss the bouquet onto the mound, I bowed my head for a moment of silence while Beregond sat upon his horse and watched my actions with very little interest.
When I had finished, I returned to my guard and expressed profound disappointment that it was too wet to draw a sketch of the grave-mound for Éowyn, and I am certain that I saw him roll his eyes at me before he whirled his horse quickly to face the river, obviously having heard something.
I remained silent and alert, attempting to scan the horizon through the heavy rain, but having little luck at it. But it was only a moment, and then my guard drew his sword which prompted me to quickly ready my bow.
"Lord Faramir," said Beregond in a deadly quiet tone, "Southrons approach."