A/N: Thank you for the reviews!! Sorry this chapter is so short....
I laid upon the cot next to my husband's and watched him sleep, worried about his health and yet content to be near him. It seemed that he was finally getting the rest that he so desperately had been lacking these past few weeks. But I hoped when he finally awakened that he would not be too wroth with me for putting him in danger, though it had been obvious that he had not realized that it was me that he had rescued from the Southron's arrow, until he had seen my face. But still I knew that it was my fault that he was lying wounded upon his cot, though I thanked the Valar for allowing me keep him yet a while longer.
Faramir awakened with a start, and I thought it perhaps from pain or yet another nightmare. I rose quickly and offered him some water, and he asked me if I had heard a noise. Listening, I could not say that I had and bade him to return to sleep, sitting down once again upon my own bed, watching him, making sure that he was comfortable again.
I heard it then, an odd thump that sounded like an arrow striking a wooden target. Faramir's eyes flew open, and then there was shouting from outside and inside chaos ensued.
"Faramir," I said, my tone urgent as I realized that it was a Haradrim ambush. I worried that he was too badly injured to be easily roused from bed, but he was sitting up almost instantly, pulling on his discarded trousers and boots. I began to dress in my leathers as well, leaving my gown in a heap upon the floor, and then my husband was upright and clumsily yanking on the remainder of his clothing, fumbling for a moment as he had forgotten that the left-side lacings had been ruined and discarded. As I buckled on my sword belt, he leaned over and kissed me upon the cheek, and together we raced from the barracks.
As soon as we stepped into the outdoors, I saw the stable roof was beginning to smolder, so I scrambled in that direction, hoping to spare the horses a fiery death. Men were running everywhere, but it was obvious that there was no hope left for the outpost.
I entered the stable and opened each stall, shouting at the horses to scare them out. The smoke was growing thicker by the moment, and I knew that there was not a minute to spare when the flames appeared above me, and the wood began to groan as it burned.
As I finally freed the last horse, I began to choke, unable to breathe, and I heard Faramir calling out to me, but I could not see him. I should have died there had he not reached me then, and somehow he lifted me into his arms, and he carried me out of the stables and back into the confusion outside.
As I managed to take in several deep breaths of air, I could see the enemy closing in around us. Faramir mentioned the babe, our son, and told me to run north, pointing urgently in that direction. But knowing that he was unwell, and though he looked at me with determined stoicism, I felt that I should try to convince him that he should flee as well.
"You are coming with me." I had meant it to sound forceful, but my voice was tremulous and weak from more than just the smoke.
"Go, my dear. I shall follow you soon," he said. His voice sounded reassuring, and so I ran, knowing that if I remained here, it would hinder us both in battle. I turned back once to see if he was yet alive and caught sight of the graceful arc of his sword decapitating a man, his movements fluid and lithe, belying the deadliness of his blade. It was obvious, though, that he would be overrun by the enemy at any moment. I drew my sword, fully intending to return to his side, but Einarfin appeared at mine and took me in hand, leading me toward safety, even as I heard Faramir's voice lifted to sound the retreat northward.
He comes now, I thought, and I ran all the more quickly for it. We stayed together, the eight men who remained alive and I, but if I had known that Faramir was not close behind us, I would have returned for him. Instead we lunged forward, hoping blindly that we could outpace the Haradrim, though we were a ragged group at best. Damrod had taken an arrow through the arm, and the wound was bleeding horrifically since there was no way to stop to bandage it. Beregond had a cut on his forehead that would probably require stitching. One of the Poros rangers was wheezing badly. His mate who was dragging him along mentioned having pulled the ranger from one of the burning buildings, so I thought his condition was merely smoke damage, but it was not long after the dawn that the boy, for that is what he was, began to cough blood, and it was not long after that he fell dead, his lungs too badly damaged to sustain life any longer. His friend prayed over the body for a just moment, and then came with us, though tears coursed down his cheeks at the loss of his fellow ranger.
Lieutenant Anborn seemed to view me as his personal responsibility, and I found that he and Beregond were always at my side, unwilling to run far ahead of me for any reason. Wordlessly, Anborn took my hand and veered from the road, leading us all into the dense underbrush of the forest of South Ithilien, running almost soundlessly, moving us forward as if he had lived there for his entire existence. I was awed by his ability, and I found myself trying to emulate him, placing my feet in the same places as he did as we hurried, trying to lose the throng that hunted us.
It was not until midmorning that Anborn allowed us to stop. Mercifully, we could rest for a bit in a small clearing that he had discovered. I immediately began to tend the wounded, making do with strips torn from the men's shirts since we were without proper bandages. It was only when my charges were resting that I wholly turned my thoughts toward my husband. I asked Anborn where he thought Faramir might be, and when I saw the look upon his face, my heart sank with dread.
"Lieutenant, surely you believe that your captain yet lives," I murmured.
His answer was only to look down upon the ground that he was sitting upon, picking at the leaf litter with calloused hands. I could not bear to look upon his expression anymore, and so I looked at the ground as well.
"Anborn, surely you believe that Faramir is yet alive. Did you see him fall?"
"Nay, lady." And his voice was ragged with emotion. "And yet, he is not here."
"But he was wounded, you remember. Perhaps he is delayed due to it."
"Lady Éowyn, I would not venture to guess. I know only that he is not here. I would that he should walk now from betwixt those trees yonder, but he does not. There is naught that can be done save hope for his safe arrival in Minas Tirith." Though I knew in my head the logic of his words, my heart railed against them.
Mablung moved next to me then and sank down beside me with a sigh. "We shall keep you safe, my lady, until the return of your husband," he murmured, sending a pointedly forbidding look to Anborn. "The Captain is an exceptionally skilled ranger. He has not let us down before."
"Mab, it is cruel to raise false hope," whispered Anborn, though I know not why he bothered since I could hear every word.
Mablung raised his voice. "An, it is cruel to crush real hope, and until I see with my own eyes aught to the contrary, the Captain is alive, and I will hear naught more upon the subject." I saw some of the other men nod in agreement, including Lieutenant Odrastor. Anborn's expression was stony, but it softened eventually as he nodded as well, before he rose and announced that we must begin moving again so as not to waste the distance we had placed between ourselves and the Southrons.
Mablung stood and helped me and Beregond to our feet, and then we all continued northward through the forest, not quite as quickly as before, but no less stealthy anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was awakened by a sound that seemed out of place, and so I did not recognize it at first. It was not a gradual awakening. It was sudden, and I mistakenly attempted to sit, mere movement stealing my breath from me. Instantly Éowyn was hovering beside me, cooing soft words into my ear while her hand gently lifted my head from the pillow, and she bade me to drink from a cup of cool water that she held to my lips. I took a couple of sips before I asked, "Did you not hear that?" as she carefully released me.
"Hear what?" She sat very still on the edge of my cot and listened, but there was no sound save for the snores of the few men who were sleeping. "Sleep, love," she finally whispered, stroking my brow once. "It is almost morning."
I put the sound from my mind as Éowyn drifted away from me, but just as I was dozing again, I heard it again, a strange thump, but this time there was no mistaking it as a voice was raised, calling out a word that I did not understand at first. But then a chorus was taken up, and I at last realized what the word was.
"Fire!"
"Faramir." Éowyn's deadly serious tone brought me fully alert, and I do not remember how, but suddenly I was standing beside her, tugging my tattered clothing and cuirass on dazedly. The barracks had become a madhouse with men shouting and cursing in their haste to be out of their cots. Éowyn, too, was quickly dressing in her leathers and fastening her sword to her waist. I could not help but lean over and give her a quick kiss on the cheek before we emerged into the chill night.
The air hung thick with smoke, and I saw that the sentries were dead, their bodies riddled with arrows. The dining hall was fully engulfed in dancing flames, and flaming arrows fell from the sky, raining yet more fire upon the roof of the building that we had only just vacated.
I spied Éowyn running across the damp grass, ignoring all danger as she hurried to reach the stables before the fire could kill our horses. I chased after her as I quickly realized that there was naught else that we could do here, save flee. My side screamed in protest as I tried to keep up with her, but I put the pain from my mind, my only concern being the safety of my family. One end of the roof of the stables was aflame, the horses within screaming wildly in protest as they kicked at the walls that held them in. My wife barely paused to fling open the door, and as she darted inside, opening the gate of each stall, our mounts began to blindly flee the burning building one after the other.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up in horror as I heard the structure begin to creak, the dry wood being quickly consumed by the flames. Without any further thought I darted between the stampeding animals and into the smoky interior of the building.
I called to her, unable to disguise the panic in my voice even as I began to choke, but I could not see her between the darkness and the smoke. Against all instincts for my own safety, I felt my way forward, staying close to the edge of the stalls so as not to be inadvertently trampled by a freed stallion. I could hear her coughing now, and then she was next to me, her fingers clawing at my arm as she struggled for breath in the thick smoke. With strength that I did not know I yet owned, I picked her up and carried her out of the building with all haste, setting her down upon her feet when we reached the somewhat fresher air outside. She hung heavily upon me, wheezing for air, as did I, but I still had enough breath to tell her to run toward the north side of camp.
She looked upon me as if I were insane until she spotted a few Haradrim approaching our meager forces, swords drawn. I spoke into her ear, "For the child, Éowyn. Run north, and do not stop," hoping duty would compel her to obey me.
"You are coming with me," she said, though it was more of a question than a statement.
"Go, my dear. I shall follow you soon." There was no time for more, and she turned and ran. I sent a silent prayer to the Valar that they would keep her safe as I turned and faced my first foe, his face painted red, a wild gleam in his eye that I sought to dull very quickly.
He died soon enough and another and yet another, but there were five more to take his place, and what was left of our small company was outnumbered ten to one. I called a retreat to the forest for those of us who yet remained upright, and the command was echoed by Anborn and Odrastor. I thought to bring up the rear, trying to keep my men safely before me as we fled, but suddenly I was cut off from them, and the only option that was left to me was to run south. At any second I expected an arrow to thump me in the back, but luck was with me, and I reached the river intact. Without further thought, I leapt into the frigid water and allowed it to swallow me, carrying me southward to somewhere a bit safer.
Unfortunately, I was unfamiliar with the downstream portion of the River Poros, and as I surfaced in the darkness, I realized that the current had become much stronger. Though I am a strong swimmer, soon it was all I could do just to keep my head above the surface, as I was slammed again and again against rocks and other debris hidden within the churning water.
And then my hip banged into something very solid that rapidly spun me around, almost pulling me under again. I held my left arm before me to deflect aught else the moiling river might have rammed me into, but it was of no use. When at last the moment came, my arm snapped like dry kindling, and I was only rescued from the blinding pain when my head hit the same obstacle, plunging me instantly into oblivion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We reached the edge of the River Anduin the next night. I would not say that we were overjoyed to see the boundary of the water, but after two full days of running from the Southrons, we were most glad for the refreshment that the river provided. Anborn allowed the men to build a small fire, and we gathered around it, happy to have something else to concentrate on besides our current troubles.
Damrod's arm wound had festered, and his fever was rising by the minute. Mablung had dragged him along through the forest, eventually shouldering the man and carrying him. When we reached the river, Mablung stripped his friend of his armor and clothing and immersed his body in the river, trying to lower the man's body temperature with the only means that we had at our disposal. After a short time, they returned to the fireside, and Mablung held the younger man, wrapped in a cloak, against his chest, as if Damrod was merely a child, while I reopened the wound with a borrowed dagger and then cleaned the infection out with river water. Mablung gave me his thanks, and I rebound the wound with what was left of Damrod's linen shirt, and I sent a silent prayer to the Valar that we would not be forced to take the ranger's arm from him.
Anborn and Odrastor had done a fine job of keeping us fed with the natural abundance of the forest, mostly presenting us with leaves and roots that they had found while we were on the run, but I found that I was not hungry this evening, Faramir's fate again in my thoughts. By my reckoning, Foli and Sirinto and the two Poros rangers should reach Minas Tirith in another one or two days if they rode stopping only long enough to rest their mounts. And then it would most probably take the king's army four or five days to reach the River Poros.
My heart was breaking at the mere thought of Faramir. I could not believe he was yet dead, though if he was injured somewhere and was forced to wait a week for aid, the worst might happen. I felt that I had no one to speak to, for each time I tried to broach the subject, an uneasiness gripped us all, and everyone would grow quiet. And though I respected his ability as a ranger, I found myself now avoiding Lieutenant Anborn simply because he believed that Faramir was dead. Always did I stay between Mablung and Beregond, though tonight I found myself between Beregond and Damrod as Mablung and I tried our best to preserve the injured ranger's body heat, while poor Damrod thrashed in fevered nightmares.
"Is there naught else that we can do for him, my lady?" asked Mablung in the middle of the night, obviously distressed at Damrod's condition. I had spent a good portion of the previous hour bathing the ranger's forehead, wishing that the fever would break.
"Nay, Mablung. He needs his wound to be properly tended some place where he can lie still and truly rest for longer than only a couple of hours."
Anborn approached us and knelt next to Damrod. "We cannot stay here long, not even for Dam. We must keep moving so we can be certain to stay ahead of the Southrons, but I assure you, Mablung, I will see that he receives the best of care as soon as we reach Minas Tirith."
Mablung nodded gravely, and Anborn called us all to our feet. Mablung cradled Damrod in his arms and we moved upstream, letting Mablung set the pace. And so we continued for the rest of the night and most of the next day, the men taking turns bearing Damrod forth. Mid-afternoon, I asked finally if we could stop for a bit, as I was feeling rather ill though I did not mention that.
"My lady?" questioned Mablung, laying his hand upon my back. "Is there aught wrong?"
"Nay, sir. I am well enough. It is only that I am weary," I lied, and he knew it, for I felt blackness closing in at the edges of my vision and a strange humming noise began in my ears.
"Anborn!" I faintly heard the shout, and then I was looking up at the concerned faces of my companions, uncertain of how I had come to be there. I made to sit up, feeling embarrassed by my weakness, but three pairs of hands were instantly gently holding me down, and Mablung commanded me to relax. "It must be from the strain of the past few days," whispered someone who was out of my line of sight.
Beregond smiled wanly at me and slipped his arms under me, lifting me from the damp ground. "I shall carry you a while, Lady Éowyn."
"Nay, Beregond, I am well," I protested. "I do not wish to be a burden."
"Ah, you are not as heavy as Damrod, my lady, and much easier on the eyes as well," he chuckled. "Do not fear. You are no burden to me. Rest and regather your strength." And so I did as I was bidden, knowing that though I could often defy my husband, there would be no disobeying his men in his absence.
I laid upon the cot next to my husband's and watched him sleep, worried about his health and yet content to be near him. It seemed that he was finally getting the rest that he so desperately had been lacking these past few weeks. But I hoped when he finally awakened that he would not be too wroth with me for putting him in danger, though it had been obvious that he had not realized that it was me that he had rescued from the Southron's arrow, until he had seen my face. But still I knew that it was my fault that he was lying wounded upon his cot, though I thanked the Valar for allowing me keep him yet a while longer.
Faramir awakened with a start, and I thought it perhaps from pain or yet another nightmare. I rose quickly and offered him some water, and he asked me if I had heard a noise. Listening, I could not say that I had and bade him to return to sleep, sitting down once again upon my own bed, watching him, making sure that he was comfortable again.
I heard it then, an odd thump that sounded like an arrow striking a wooden target. Faramir's eyes flew open, and then there was shouting from outside and inside chaos ensued.
"Faramir," I said, my tone urgent as I realized that it was a Haradrim ambush. I worried that he was too badly injured to be easily roused from bed, but he was sitting up almost instantly, pulling on his discarded trousers and boots. I began to dress in my leathers as well, leaving my gown in a heap upon the floor, and then my husband was upright and clumsily yanking on the remainder of his clothing, fumbling for a moment as he had forgotten that the left-side lacings had been ruined and discarded. As I buckled on my sword belt, he leaned over and kissed me upon the cheek, and together we raced from the barracks.
As soon as we stepped into the outdoors, I saw the stable roof was beginning to smolder, so I scrambled in that direction, hoping to spare the horses a fiery death. Men were running everywhere, but it was obvious that there was no hope left for the outpost.
I entered the stable and opened each stall, shouting at the horses to scare them out. The smoke was growing thicker by the moment, and I knew that there was not a minute to spare when the flames appeared above me, and the wood began to groan as it burned.
As I finally freed the last horse, I began to choke, unable to breathe, and I heard Faramir calling out to me, but I could not see him. I should have died there had he not reached me then, and somehow he lifted me into his arms, and he carried me out of the stables and back into the confusion outside.
As I managed to take in several deep breaths of air, I could see the enemy closing in around us. Faramir mentioned the babe, our son, and told me to run north, pointing urgently in that direction. But knowing that he was unwell, and though he looked at me with determined stoicism, I felt that I should try to convince him that he should flee as well.
"You are coming with me." I had meant it to sound forceful, but my voice was tremulous and weak from more than just the smoke.
"Go, my dear. I shall follow you soon," he said. His voice sounded reassuring, and so I ran, knowing that if I remained here, it would hinder us both in battle. I turned back once to see if he was yet alive and caught sight of the graceful arc of his sword decapitating a man, his movements fluid and lithe, belying the deadliness of his blade. It was obvious, though, that he would be overrun by the enemy at any moment. I drew my sword, fully intending to return to his side, but Einarfin appeared at mine and took me in hand, leading me toward safety, even as I heard Faramir's voice lifted to sound the retreat northward.
He comes now, I thought, and I ran all the more quickly for it. We stayed together, the eight men who remained alive and I, but if I had known that Faramir was not close behind us, I would have returned for him. Instead we lunged forward, hoping blindly that we could outpace the Haradrim, though we were a ragged group at best. Damrod had taken an arrow through the arm, and the wound was bleeding horrifically since there was no way to stop to bandage it. Beregond had a cut on his forehead that would probably require stitching. One of the Poros rangers was wheezing badly. His mate who was dragging him along mentioned having pulled the ranger from one of the burning buildings, so I thought his condition was merely smoke damage, but it was not long after the dawn that the boy, for that is what he was, began to cough blood, and it was not long after that he fell dead, his lungs too badly damaged to sustain life any longer. His friend prayed over the body for a just moment, and then came with us, though tears coursed down his cheeks at the loss of his fellow ranger.
Lieutenant Anborn seemed to view me as his personal responsibility, and I found that he and Beregond were always at my side, unwilling to run far ahead of me for any reason. Wordlessly, Anborn took my hand and veered from the road, leading us all into the dense underbrush of the forest of South Ithilien, running almost soundlessly, moving us forward as if he had lived there for his entire existence. I was awed by his ability, and I found myself trying to emulate him, placing my feet in the same places as he did as we hurried, trying to lose the throng that hunted us.
It was not until midmorning that Anborn allowed us to stop. Mercifully, we could rest for a bit in a small clearing that he had discovered. I immediately began to tend the wounded, making do with strips torn from the men's shirts since we were without proper bandages. It was only when my charges were resting that I wholly turned my thoughts toward my husband. I asked Anborn where he thought Faramir might be, and when I saw the look upon his face, my heart sank with dread.
"Lieutenant, surely you believe that your captain yet lives," I murmured.
His answer was only to look down upon the ground that he was sitting upon, picking at the leaf litter with calloused hands. I could not bear to look upon his expression anymore, and so I looked at the ground as well.
"Anborn, surely you believe that Faramir is yet alive. Did you see him fall?"
"Nay, lady." And his voice was ragged with emotion. "And yet, he is not here."
"But he was wounded, you remember. Perhaps he is delayed due to it."
"Lady Éowyn, I would not venture to guess. I know only that he is not here. I would that he should walk now from betwixt those trees yonder, but he does not. There is naught that can be done save hope for his safe arrival in Minas Tirith." Though I knew in my head the logic of his words, my heart railed against them.
Mablung moved next to me then and sank down beside me with a sigh. "We shall keep you safe, my lady, until the return of your husband," he murmured, sending a pointedly forbidding look to Anborn. "The Captain is an exceptionally skilled ranger. He has not let us down before."
"Mab, it is cruel to raise false hope," whispered Anborn, though I know not why he bothered since I could hear every word.
Mablung raised his voice. "An, it is cruel to crush real hope, and until I see with my own eyes aught to the contrary, the Captain is alive, and I will hear naught more upon the subject." I saw some of the other men nod in agreement, including Lieutenant Odrastor. Anborn's expression was stony, but it softened eventually as he nodded as well, before he rose and announced that we must begin moving again so as not to waste the distance we had placed between ourselves and the Southrons.
Mablung stood and helped me and Beregond to our feet, and then we all continued northward through the forest, not quite as quickly as before, but no less stealthy anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was awakened by a sound that seemed out of place, and so I did not recognize it at first. It was not a gradual awakening. It was sudden, and I mistakenly attempted to sit, mere movement stealing my breath from me. Instantly Éowyn was hovering beside me, cooing soft words into my ear while her hand gently lifted my head from the pillow, and she bade me to drink from a cup of cool water that she held to my lips. I took a couple of sips before I asked, "Did you not hear that?" as she carefully released me.
"Hear what?" She sat very still on the edge of my cot and listened, but there was no sound save for the snores of the few men who were sleeping. "Sleep, love," she finally whispered, stroking my brow once. "It is almost morning."
I put the sound from my mind as Éowyn drifted away from me, but just as I was dozing again, I heard it again, a strange thump, but this time there was no mistaking it as a voice was raised, calling out a word that I did not understand at first. But then a chorus was taken up, and I at last realized what the word was.
"Fire!"
"Faramir." Éowyn's deadly serious tone brought me fully alert, and I do not remember how, but suddenly I was standing beside her, tugging my tattered clothing and cuirass on dazedly. The barracks had become a madhouse with men shouting and cursing in their haste to be out of their cots. Éowyn, too, was quickly dressing in her leathers and fastening her sword to her waist. I could not help but lean over and give her a quick kiss on the cheek before we emerged into the chill night.
The air hung thick with smoke, and I saw that the sentries were dead, their bodies riddled with arrows. The dining hall was fully engulfed in dancing flames, and flaming arrows fell from the sky, raining yet more fire upon the roof of the building that we had only just vacated.
I spied Éowyn running across the damp grass, ignoring all danger as she hurried to reach the stables before the fire could kill our horses. I chased after her as I quickly realized that there was naught else that we could do here, save flee. My side screamed in protest as I tried to keep up with her, but I put the pain from my mind, my only concern being the safety of my family. One end of the roof of the stables was aflame, the horses within screaming wildly in protest as they kicked at the walls that held them in. My wife barely paused to fling open the door, and as she darted inside, opening the gate of each stall, our mounts began to blindly flee the burning building one after the other.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up in horror as I heard the structure begin to creak, the dry wood being quickly consumed by the flames. Without any further thought I darted between the stampeding animals and into the smoky interior of the building.
I called to her, unable to disguise the panic in my voice even as I began to choke, but I could not see her between the darkness and the smoke. Against all instincts for my own safety, I felt my way forward, staying close to the edge of the stalls so as not to be inadvertently trampled by a freed stallion. I could hear her coughing now, and then she was next to me, her fingers clawing at my arm as she struggled for breath in the thick smoke. With strength that I did not know I yet owned, I picked her up and carried her out of the building with all haste, setting her down upon her feet when we reached the somewhat fresher air outside. She hung heavily upon me, wheezing for air, as did I, but I still had enough breath to tell her to run toward the north side of camp.
She looked upon me as if I were insane until she spotted a few Haradrim approaching our meager forces, swords drawn. I spoke into her ear, "For the child, Éowyn. Run north, and do not stop," hoping duty would compel her to obey me.
"You are coming with me," she said, though it was more of a question than a statement.
"Go, my dear. I shall follow you soon." There was no time for more, and she turned and ran. I sent a silent prayer to the Valar that they would keep her safe as I turned and faced my first foe, his face painted red, a wild gleam in his eye that I sought to dull very quickly.
He died soon enough and another and yet another, but there were five more to take his place, and what was left of our small company was outnumbered ten to one. I called a retreat to the forest for those of us who yet remained upright, and the command was echoed by Anborn and Odrastor. I thought to bring up the rear, trying to keep my men safely before me as we fled, but suddenly I was cut off from them, and the only option that was left to me was to run south. At any second I expected an arrow to thump me in the back, but luck was with me, and I reached the river intact. Without further thought, I leapt into the frigid water and allowed it to swallow me, carrying me southward to somewhere a bit safer.
Unfortunately, I was unfamiliar with the downstream portion of the River Poros, and as I surfaced in the darkness, I realized that the current had become much stronger. Though I am a strong swimmer, soon it was all I could do just to keep my head above the surface, as I was slammed again and again against rocks and other debris hidden within the churning water.
And then my hip banged into something very solid that rapidly spun me around, almost pulling me under again. I held my left arm before me to deflect aught else the moiling river might have rammed me into, but it was of no use. When at last the moment came, my arm snapped like dry kindling, and I was only rescued from the blinding pain when my head hit the same obstacle, plunging me instantly into oblivion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We reached the edge of the River Anduin the next night. I would not say that we were overjoyed to see the boundary of the water, but after two full days of running from the Southrons, we were most glad for the refreshment that the river provided. Anborn allowed the men to build a small fire, and we gathered around it, happy to have something else to concentrate on besides our current troubles.
Damrod's arm wound had festered, and his fever was rising by the minute. Mablung had dragged him along through the forest, eventually shouldering the man and carrying him. When we reached the river, Mablung stripped his friend of his armor and clothing and immersed his body in the river, trying to lower the man's body temperature with the only means that we had at our disposal. After a short time, they returned to the fireside, and Mablung held the younger man, wrapped in a cloak, against his chest, as if Damrod was merely a child, while I reopened the wound with a borrowed dagger and then cleaned the infection out with river water. Mablung gave me his thanks, and I rebound the wound with what was left of Damrod's linen shirt, and I sent a silent prayer to the Valar that we would not be forced to take the ranger's arm from him.
Anborn and Odrastor had done a fine job of keeping us fed with the natural abundance of the forest, mostly presenting us with leaves and roots that they had found while we were on the run, but I found that I was not hungry this evening, Faramir's fate again in my thoughts. By my reckoning, Foli and Sirinto and the two Poros rangers should reach Minas Tirith in another one or two days if they rode stopping only long enough to rest their mounts. And then it would most probably take the king's army four or five days to reach the River Poros.
My heart was breaking at the mere thought of Faramir. I could not believe he was yet dead, though if he was injured somewhere and was forced to wait a week for aid, the worst might happen. I felt that I had no one to speak to, for each time I tried to broach the subject, an uneasiness gripped us all, and everyone would grow quiet. And though I respected his ability as a ranger, I found myself now avoiding Lieutenant Anborn simply because he believed that Faramir was dead. Always did I stay between Mablung and Beregond, though tonight I found myself between Beregond and Damrod as Mablung and I tried our best to preserve the injured ranger's body heat, while poor Damrod thrashed in fevered nightmares.
"Is there naught else that we can do for him, my lady?" asked Mablung in the middle of the night, obviously distressed at Damrod's condition. I had spent a good portion of the previous hour bathing the ranger's forehead, wishing that the fever would break.
"Nay, Mablung. He needs his wound to be properly tended some place where he can lie still and truly rest for longer than only a couple of hours."
Anborn approached us and knelt next to Damrod. "We cannot stay here long, not even for Dam. We must keep moving so we can be certain to stay ahead of the Southrons, but I assure you, Mablung, I will see that he receives the best of care as soon as we reach Minas Tirith."
Mablung nodded gravely, and Anborn called us all to our feet. Mablung cradled Damrod in his arms and we moved upstream, letting Mablung set the pace. And so we continued for the rest of the night and most of the next day, the men taking turns bearing Damrod forth. Mid-afternoon, I asked finally if we could stop for a bit, as I was feeling rather ill though I did not mention that.
"My lady?" questioned Mablung, laying his hand upon my back. "Is there aught wrong?"
"Nay, sir. I am well enough. It is only that I am weary," I lied, and he knew it, for I felt blackness closing in at the edges of my vision and a strange humming noise began in my ears.
"Anborn!" I faintly heard the shout, and then I was looking up at the concerned faces of my companions, uncertain of how I had come to be there. I made to sit up, feeling embarrassed by my weakness, but three pairs of hands were instantly gently holding me down, and Mablung commanded me to relax. "It must be from the strain of the past few days," whispered someone who was out of my line of sight.
Beregond smiled wanly at me and slipped his arms under me, lifting me from the damp ground. "I shall carry you a while, Lady Éowyn."
"Nay, Beregond, I am well," I protested. "I do not wish to be a burden."
"Ah, you are not as heavy as Damrod, my lady, and much easier on the eyes as well," he chuckled. "Do not fear. You are no burden to me. Rest and regather your strength." And so I did as I was bidden, knowing that though I could often defy my husband, there would be no disobeying his men in his absence.