A/N: Please, if you have been reading this story, go back and reread
chapter 7. I rewrote a good bit of it on April 19 at my beta-reader's
insistence. I hope you still like it. Also, please forgive the slow
update. My computer has taken to eating certain programs for fun. *sigh*
Thanks for all of the great reviews!!!!
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In a gentle rain, we continued on to the Crossings of Poros at dawn the next morning, the Lord Steward of Pelargir seeing us off at the gate, and more important, his three hundred mounted guards, with a solemn bow. I thanked him politely for his hospitality before we departed, and he morosely acknowledged my words with a nod of his head.
The Haradrim were chief in my thoughts as we drew closer to our destination, as was the Steward of Gondor. My advisors, most especially General Solasgil, were still urging caution, and I intended to be cautious, so long as it would preserve the lives of my men, but I sought no fate so noble for our foe, as I recalled Éowyn's careworn face as she explained what had befallen the doomed outpost. I decided that I would keep the main force of my army together, only bothering to send a small advance party of rangers, so that Gondor might show the Southrons our full might and so put some dread into their evil hearts.
But what was left of the outpost was abandoned, the dead strewn about the camp, forgotten. I assigned some men to see to our fallen and some others to burn Harad's dead. Grimly, I examined our fallen men. Their bodies, lying amongst the ashes of the buildings, were riddled with arrows. Faramir was not among them.
There was little sign left of the Southrons who had chased Éowyn and the rangers north, the rain quickly obliterating most of the tracks. But it did not appear that the Southron army had yet returned to this place, so I commanded the General to take half of our force northward upon the Harad road, hoping to trap the lesser force between ours and the rangers posted in Osgiliath. Of the remaining six hundred or so, I had half fan out looking for stragglers hidden nearby among the newly-leafed trees, and the other half worked to set up our camp, while I and five of my adjutants crossed the River Poros into South Gondor.
"My lord king, perhaps Lord Faramir was taken captive by the Haradrim," said Colonel Vëantor, the second highest ranking of the advisors who had attended me.
"Perhaps." But I would not venture a guess until I had more concrete evidence of his fate.
Despite the rain, it was plain that no army had moved south from here, so we veered from the road, and I dismounted to search for tracks in the mud, but I found no sign of the Steward. We searched the south side of the river for nigh two hours, looking for any trace of Faramir's passing, before we were forced to return to the north bank at sundown, the remaining light too sparse to attempt any more tracking that day.
Our camp had been arranged a few hundred paces north of the ruined outpost, and after leaving my horse with the stable master, I silently stalked toward my pavilion. Yet I was surrounded by my ministers, all vying to speak to me. With a raised hand I silenced them all.
"Have you found any evidence of Lord Faramir's whereabouts?" I asked them. All answered in the negative. "Then your words will keep until later." I entered my pavilion to await word from General Solasgil's force before the end of the night. I disrobed and dried myself before donning my ranger's garb, readying myself for the morrow, as I settled down to smoke for a bit, thinking on 'The Haradrim Situation'.
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When I awakened in the morning, I found myself alone. The door of the house was wide open as usual, though the light was rather dim, since it was raining. For a moment, I only wished for some water, as my throat was very dry, and then I remembered Madach coming to me yestereve, taking my most prized possessions from me with only one quiet word upon his lips. I knew that I needed to hasten from this place if I could while I was unattended before something worse befell me.
Gingerly, I sat up, noting that my left side felt oddly tight, and there was a throbbing there that I had not felt since I had received the arrow wound. I set my concern aside for later, and with difficulty, I gingerly pulled myself to the end of the bed with my legs. It took precious moments for me to angle myself so I could reach the bonds around my left ankle with my right hand, but the linen was drawn tight, and disentangling the knots proved futile with but one hand to work with and my sight impeded by the furs that still covered the lower half of my body.
I had not even begun to loosen the knots when I heard voices outside. I froze, listening intently, recognizing Almaria's voice, though the language she was speaking was Haradaic, an adult male answering her with short answers in the same tongue. Their voices grew louder as they approached, and I set my countenance into an expression of disdainful indifference, the face that my father had oft used when he spoke to me.
Madach entered the hovel first, his face strangely blank, his eyes upon the floor as he moved to the fire to warm himself. Following him was a tall, tanned Haradrim warrior with dark eyes that bored into mine as he approached the bedside. Behind him was Almaria, trailed by her daughters, and she was yet speaking rapidly to the man, who was nodding occasionally.
He rapidly snaked his hand out and seized my hair, jerking my head back so that he might see my face more clearly. I stared at him unflinchingly before he released me and then threw the furs aside, examining my hands, obviously expecting to see the Ring of the Stewards there.
He grunted and said something to Almaria in his guttural tongue before he grasped my bound arms and yanked them up so he might see my hands better. White-hot pain screamed through the entire left side of my body, and I nearly fainted as I bit back the agony without a sound.
Almaria ran to the bedside, also looking for my ring. "Where are your rings, Faramir?" she wailed, but I had decided that I would not say another word to her, and so I remained silent. The Southron drew his dagger and cut all of my bonds, before he roughly dragged me from the bed by my right arm. Though I was weak, I did not fall, and I simply stood near the doorway, shivering in my linen small clothes.
The Southron barked something at Almaria, and she shook her head, vehemently denying something, before he pulled out his purse and offered her a gold coin. She seemed reluctant to accept it, most likely hoping for more, but after he pushed it at her, speaking the same words again and again, she seized it from his hand and wrapped her fingers about it tightly.
"Madach, fetch Faramir's clothes," she said, and the boy complied without a word, retrieving all of my belongings from a trunk near the fireplace, save my dagger, sword belt and rings. He put them in a pile upon the floor next to me. Surprisingly, Madach spoke quietly to me.
"I mended your surcoat as well as I could, Faramir." While his back was to the others, he patted the same pocket where he had placed my rings the night before. "I also replaced the missing lacing with some extra that we yet had from when Da lived with us." I nodded my thanks to him, letting my expression soften somewhat. "Thank you for the dagger," he murmured before his mother spoke.
"Get dressed, Lord Steward. Hiryaher needs to return to his men quickly."
Awkwardly I picked up my surcoat with my quivering fingers, shaking it out before I slung it around my shoulders and attempted to slip my good arm into the sleeve. Madach moved behind me and helped me with it, and then he aided me with the rest of my clothing as well. When I began to don my boots, the Southron came to me and snatched them away, saying something to Almaria.
"He says that you will not need boots. He does not want you to wear them, so that he should not have to worry about chasing you very far," she interpreted for me. I narrowed my eyes at the Southron, and he sneered back for a moment only, before he backhanded my face hard enough to send me sprawling through the doorway and onto the wet grass. My arm and side both throbbing, I regained my feet somewhat slower than I would have liked, though I resumed my contemptuous expression quickly enough.
And the Southron laughed in return before he threw my boots to Madach, saying something to the boy that caused him to nod. The warrior moved within a foot of my face and stared at me with brown eyes, before he said in heavily-accented Westron, "You are foolish to think that you should live long if you defy me. This woman," he added, indicating Almaria with a movement of his head, "thinks you are important somehow, but I do not see it. To me, you look sick and weak and broken."
He seemed to think it was news to me, but I merely glared at him and said naught. I looked over his shoulder a moment and saw Almaria returning to her hovel, shooing her younger children in before her, my fate all but forgotten, though her son stayed outside and watched the Southron and me, while fingering my dagger hilt, the belt where it was sheathed now buckled about his waist.
Hiryaher took a step backward before he cruelly smiled and punched me in my broken arm. I could not help it; I fell to my knees with a groan, and then the man's sword point was at my throat, and I wondered why he had bothered to pay Almaria a gold coin for a man that he was planning to kill anyway. I looked down at the blade, barely daring to breathe, and noted how dirty and rusted that it was. I was dismayed when I realized that it was not dirt upon the blade, but poison.
My eyes flicked back to his face, and he smiled, relishing the fact that I knew that he held my death in his hands, and he could offer me a quick, painless one, or a slow, lingering one. With a lightning-fast flick of his wrist, he chose the latter. I felt the tip of the blade nick the soft flesh of my throat, the thin trail of warm blood trickling forth, and then the slow burn of the poison as it entered my body in the tiniest quantity.
"Rise!" he commanded me while sheathing his sword. I sighed and hung my head, gathering my strength, defying him, when I heard the strangest sound from the Southron, almost a choking noise. I looked up at him just in time to see his eyes glaze over as his body slid lifelessly to the ground, revealing Madach standing behind him, my bloody dagger still clutched in his fingers.
I struggled back to my feet and lurched toward the boy, who stood in shock, blood staining his tattered clothing. "I did not mean to kill him," he muttered, his eyes wide in shock and fear. Gently I took the weapon from him, wiping it on the Southron's clothing before I resheathed it upon the belt Madach wore. "He was going to kill you, Faramir."
"Madach, you did the right thing," I said quietly while wishing silently that the boy had been two minutes faster. "Tell me, how many Haradrim were with this man?"
"Three," he said absently.
I grasped the boy's shoulder with my good hand. "Madach, it shall not be long before his fellows come looking for him. You must hide the body quickly."
He seemed to awaken from his daze then, and he grabbed the dead man's wrists and pulled him into the tallest grass to the east of the house while I clumsily pulled on my boots and watched for signs of trouble from the direction of the river and also from the direction of the hovel. Thank the Valar that no one came as Madach relieved the dead man of his sword belt and the remaining coins from his purse.
He quickly returned to my side with his new treasures. Immediately I removed the sword from its sheath, studying the curved blade and the poison upon it. Madach buckled the sword belt around my waist, and I thanked him before I resheathed the weapon and then asked the boy for my rings.
"I would yet hold them for you, Faramir, for I am coming with you."
"Nay, Madach," I argued. "It is unsafe for you. You should stay here with your mother."
"It is unsafe for you as well," he said defiantly. "And I will not stay here with Mother. She no longer needs me anyway, and you do."
Though there were myriad arguments that I could have used to discourage him, I did not have the time or energy to debate him, and so I began to walk east, knowing that it was probably too dangerous near the river until the Haradrim patrol had departed from the area. Madach followed me for a while, saying nothing. But when my steps began to falter, he fell into step beside me, and soon I was leaning upon him for support as we wended our way through the wet fields of South Gondor.
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There is only a certain amount of cleaning that one person can do at a time. I learned this when I decided to take on the task of cleaning and airing out the Steward's residence as a distraction from my troubles.
The house had been closed up for nearly a year, and it was very dusty inside. Serni and I headed the group of servants who aided us, but I had kept some of the more arduous tasks for myself, such as uncovering and rearranging the furniture, so we might sweep under it all, and carrying the mattresses to the lawn to air them out. The physical labor was most welcome, and I felt better also knowing that I was making Faramir's house ready for him when he at last was returned to me.
There were more than a few rooms in this residence that I did not care for. For example, the dining room was decorated all in dark blue. Even the large dining table was sheathed in dark blue fabric which hid the lovely wood from appreciative eyes. I decided a few changes were in order and hoped that Faramir would not mind that I had redecorated the house he had been raised in without his leave.
Of course, I left his study untouched, except for opening the shutters to let some light shine into the chamber. His room should remain wholly his, and I would not deign to change anything about it, with or without his leave. But at nights, weary from exertion, I would yet sleep here, feeling his nearness despite the distance between us. I prayed that I would have some news of him soon.
The queen had been visiting me oft in the afternoons, I think sensing that I required a pause during my exertions. Though Aragorn had been gone only for six days, Arwen seemed quite lonely and in need of a friend. I welcomed the times we spent together, feeling more at ease speaking with her about Faramir than anyone else I knew.
"How fares your child, Éowyn?" she asked me one day. I placed my hand on my belly.
"He is well, I believe, though I have no true sign of his coming yet."
Arwen smiled. "You shall soon enough, I am certain." She sobered then. "Remember that I am here if you should require anything." I nodded, thinking that she was speaking only of the babe, but she added, "Have you put any thought into what you would do if Faramir should not return?"
I was stunned by her question. "Nay, lady, for I have never thought that he should not. Have you given up hope as well?"
The look in her blue eyes was a strange mixture of innocence and great wisdom as she looked deep into my grey ones. "Nay, Éowyn, for there is always hope. I only wish for you to think on all sides of the matter, not only the one that you wish to be the truth."
I nodded, my weariness enabling me to not be wroth with her, though any other time I most probably would have been.
"Arwen, what would you do if Aragorn had disappeared as Faramir has?"
"I would do much as you have done, Éowyn. But your situation is different because you carry his child, and so you cannot aid in the search for him."
Her words reminded me of how truly useless I felt. "But, Arwen, I think I shall go insane if I am forced to wait much longer."
"It takes more strength to wait and hope than to be the one who does the searching. And you are one of the strongest people that I know."
I blushed in embarrassment. "I am most impatient, though, no matter what strength I yet have."
The queen smiled. "Oh yes, I am well aware of that as well, though patience is the most difficult virtue to attain if it does not come naturally. Even my father, with his many centuries of experience, has trouble finding it oft times." She patted my arm. "But a time for action shall eventually arrive, and you shall be ready for it when it does."
I held out not much hope for myself if Lord Elrond could not be patient. I smiled then as well, and thanked the queen for cheering me during such a difficult time. And I truly hoped that if there was a time for action that I would be ready as she had said, if only for Faramir's sake.
After so much exertion, though, I learned that I was not ready for any action when an unexpected wave of weakness washed over me, and I nearly fell from my chair insensible, Arwen calmly ordered me to bed and had me carried there by Einarfin. She summoned her own personal healer to my side, and after a thorough examination, he confirmed what my husband had known all along: I held the heir to the Stewardship of Gondor and the Princedom of Ithilien in my womb.
He congratulated me, but I felt naught but fear, an unfamiliar sensation for me. The queen formally congratulated me as well, though she sensed my discomfort and sent the healer away.
"My lady, what is it?" she asked me, sitting upon the edge of the bed and taking my hand in hers.
"I am frightened," I whispered. "I know naught about babies. How am I to take care of him, if I do not know how?"
"You shall have a nurse to help you, Éowyn. And many friends. And Faramir."
It took me only a moment to realize that it was not the baby that frightened me so much as the fact that my faith in my husband was beginning to fail. And when I at last allowed the tears to fall after Arwen departed the chamber, I silently begged for Faramir to understand and to forgive me if he would.
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"Is their aught I can do for you, Faramir?"
I heard Madach's voice, though it seemed distant. I had sat down in the grass a short time before dusk, and he was allowing me to rest, but I think that as he listened to me desperately laboring to breathe between the long coughing spells that had begun only in the last hour or so, that he was beginning to realize that I had already arrived at the end of my strength.
I nodded my head, hoping for some water, but certain that if I spoke, the coughing would begin again, and my side would be filled with agony again. He knelt beside me in the grass, obviously uncertain of what to do for me, though oddly enough, his presence calmed me greatly.
"Water," I finally croaked, and he complied rapidly, holding the stream to my lips himself because I was much too unsteady. After I had drunk my fill, he sat and held my trembling hand, and I desperately tried to stay awake, unwilling to leave this boy alone here in the wild, with a chance that the Haradrim might find him and realize that he had been the one who had killed their comrade.
But despite my exhaustion, sleep did not claim me anyway, for the pain that the poison caused was too great. When it became fully dark, and the rain had finally abated, I bade Madach to lay down and sleep if he could, falsely assuring him that I would be well enough by morning to move further.
But when the first fingers of the dawn reached out from the western horizon, my condition was no better. I was in agonizing pain, and I thought then for the first time that I should never see Éowyn again and how wroth she would be with me when she learned that my last words to her had been lies. For Emyn Arnen was a longer journey than I should ever be able to make on foot in this poor condition, and even if the whole of the Gondorian army was to come to my aid, they knew not where I was, or indeed, if I was even alive. I wondered if the boy would go ahead for help, though there was a possibility that he might cross paths with the Haradrim again, and I was unwilling to sacrifice him for my sake. I allowed Madach to wake when he would, and it was not very long before his eyelids fluttered open, and he stretched before he sat up and inquired after me.
I wondered how I would ever convince him to leave me behind. My silence alarmed him somewhat, and he again offered me the water. I gratefully drank it, and then I told him that he should go on by himself.
He seemed shocked. "No, Faramir. I would not leave you behind because you did not leave me."
"But, Madach, I cannot go any farther. My strength is spent. I shall only worsen, and soon I shall die."
"No!" Tears sprang to his eyes as he grasped my hand tightly again. "You cannot. Do not leave me like Da did, please!"
"Madach, will you not go ahead for help for me? If you hurry, I may yet live." I knew it was a terrible responsibility to thrust upon the boy, but I saw naught else for it. He eyed me sullenly for but a moment before he nodded in agreement. Between coughing fits, I told him which way he needed to go and explained how to reach Emyn Arnen from here. Most especially, I told him to be careful, not wanting him to be captured, or worse, by the Southrons.
I was overcome by a particularly violent spasm, and I when it had finally passed, Madach was gone. With a groan, I laid down in the grass and awaited death.
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The rain stopped in the middle of the night, and at first light, I departed my pavilion, intending to resume the search. On my way to retrieve my horse, a mounted messenger came at a gallop from the north, and I recognized him as one of Solasgil's men. He relayed to me that they had been successful in destroying a rather small Haradrim force without many casualties on our side, and that a few prisoners had been taken for questioning. The remainder of the army would most likely be back within a day. I thanked him with a nod and continued my walk. A pair of rangers appeared then, and I stopped to find out what they wanted.
"My lord king," said the elder, a short, blond man, who bowed respectfully, "I am Lieutenant Anborn, and this," he indicated the thin, young man next to him, "is Lieutenant Odrastor. I served under Captain Faramir during the War. We were both hoping that you would allow us to come with you on your search today, my lord."
"Anborn." The name seemed familiar. "You were with Lady Éowyn when the outpost was burned?"
"Yes, lord, both of us were," answered the younger one.
I clasped each of their hands in turn. "I would be honored for both of you to accompany me on my search then. Lord Faramir is in need of any help that is available." They both thanked me and fell into step behind me, as I went directly to my horse, deciding that I was not hungry enough to bother breaking my fast.
Our three mounts were furnished quickly along with horses for Vëantor and two guards to accompany us. I did not wish to bring too many men, hoping that any tracks that might yet remain, would not be accidentally obscured by our small force. We all mounted and I directed that we would ride across the Fords of Poros again, choosing at random to move downstream, as I had a fleeting notion that there might be something found in that direction.
Odrastor, Anborn and I rode at the fore, staying a few paces apart as we searched for any clues of passage, but even as morning passed into midday, we had found no sign of Faramir. I was growing weary of the apparent fruitlessness of this, but both of the lieutenants seemed eager to continue, so I allowed it, though I paused to drink some water and confer with Vëantor. His expression was one of guarded pessimism.
"What say you, Colonel?"
He seemed reluctant to speak, but said eventually, "King Elessar, perhaps Lord Faramir went eastward instead. Though I think it highly unlikely that he would have ventured in any direction other than the one that leads toward safety."
"Perhaps, though Faramir oft thinks first of his men, and if he was able, I have no doubt that he would have run in the opposite direction, if only to give the other rangers and his wife a head start." I could tell from his expression that he had yet more to say.
"My king," he said at last, "how can you be certain that the steward yet lives? He has been missing for over a week now. If he was not taken a prisoner by the Southrons, then should he not have returned home by now?"
"I fear that he may not be able, Colonel. But I promised his lady wife that I would return him to her, and I fully intend to." I put away my waterskin. "We have searched but a few hours. I will give him more time yet. Have patience, Vëantor."
He nodded. "Of course, King Elessar."
I rode forth to catch up to the lieutenants, and we continued the search along the river bank. By late afternoon, we had covered nearly five leagues of ground. I deemed by then that there was not much chance that the man had come so far downstream, and so we turned toward our camp.
We all remained silent on the way back, our thought our own. But regardless of what the other men might have been thinking, I still I held hope within my heart.
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In a gentle rain, we continued on to the Crossings of Poros at dawn the next morning, the Lord Steward of Pelargir seeing us off at the gate, and more important, his three hundred mounted guards, with a solemn bow. I thanked him politely for his hospitality before we departed, and he morosely acknowledged my words with a nod of his head.
The Haradrim were chief in my thoughts as we drew closer to our destination, as was the Steward of Gondor. My advisors, most especially General Solasgil, were still urging caution, and I intended to be cautious, so long as it would preserve the lives of my men, but I sought no fate so noble for our foe, as I recalled Éowyn's careworn face as she explained what had befallen the doomed outpost. I decided that I would keep the main force of my army together, only bothering to send a small advance party of rangers, so that Gondor might show the Southrons our full might and so put some dread into their evil hearts.
But what was left of the outpost was abandoned, the dead strewn about the camp, forgotten. I assigned some men to see to our fallen and some others to burn Harad's dead. Grimly, I examined our fallen men. Their bodies, lying amongst the ashes of the buildings, were riddled with arrows. Faramir was not among them.
There was little sign left of the Southrons who had chased Éowyn and the rangers north, the rain quickly obliterating most of the tracks. But it did not appear that the Southron army had yet returned to this place, so I commanded the General to take half of our force northward upon the Harad road, hoping to trap the lesser force between ours and the rangers posted in Osgiliath. Of the remaining six hundred or so, I had half fan out looking for stragglers hidden nearby among the newly-leafed trees, and the other half worked to set up our camp, while I and five of my adjutants crossed the River Poros into South Gondor.
"My lord king, perhaps Lord Faramir was taken captive by the Haradrim," said Colonel Vëantor, the second highest ranking of the advisors who had attended me.
"Perhaps." But I would not venture a guess until I had more concrete evidence of his fate.
Despite the rain, it was plain that no army had moved south from here, so we veered from the road, and I dismounted to search for tracks in the mud, but I found no sign of the Steward. We searched the south side of the river for nigh two hours, looking for any trace of Faramir's passing, before we were forced to return to the north bank at sundown, the remaining light too sparse to attempt any more tracking that day.
Our camp had been arranged a few hundred paces north of the ruined outpost, and after leaving my horse with the stable master, I silently stalked toward my pavilion. Yet I was surrounded by my ministers, all vying to speak to me. With a raised hand I silenced them all.
"Have you found any evidence of Lord Faramir's whereabouts?" I asked them. All answered in the negative. "Then your words will keep until later." I entered my pavilion to await word from General Solasgil's force before the end of the night. I disrobed and dried myself before donning my ranger's garb, readying myself for the morrow, as I settled down to smoke for a bit, thinking on 'The Haradrim Situation'.
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When I awakened in the morning, I found myself alone. The door of the house was wide open as usual, though the light was rather dim, since it was raining. For a moment, I only wished for some water, as my throat was very dry, and then I remembered Madach coming to me yestereve, taking my most prized possessions from me with only one quiet word upon his lips. I knew that I needed to hasten from this place if I could while I was unattended before something worse befell me.
Gingerly, I sat up, noting that my left side felt oddly tight, and there was a throbbing there that I had not felt since I had received the arrow wound. I set my concern aside for later, and with difficulty, I gingerly pulled myself to the end of the bed with my legs. It took precious moments for me to angle myself so I could reach the bonds around my left ankle with my right hand, but the linen was drawn tight, and disentangling the knots proved futile with but one hand to work with and my sight impeded by the furs that still covered the lower half of my body.
I had not even begun to loosen the knots when I heard voices outside. I froze, listening intently, recognizing Almaria's voice, though the language she was speaking was Haradaic, an adult male answering her with short answers in the same tongue. Their voices grew louder as they approached, and I set my countenance into an expression of disdainful indifference, the face that my father had oft used when he spoke to me.
Madach entered the hovel first, his face strangely blank, his eyes upon the floor as he moved to the fire to warm himself. Following him was a tall, tanned Haradrim warrior with dark eyes that bored into mine as he approached the bedside. Behind him was Almaria, trailed by her daughters, and she was yet speaking rapidly to the man, who was nodding occasionally.
He rapidly snaked his hand out and seized my hair, jerking my head back so that he might see my face more clearly. I stared at him unflinchingly before he released me and then threw the furs aside, examining my hands, obviously expecting to see the Ring of the Stewards there.
He grunted and said something to Almaria in his guttural tongue before he grasped my bound arms and yanked them up so he might see my hands better. White-hot pain screamed through the entire left side of my body, and I nearly fainted as I bit back the agony without a sound.
Almaria ran to the bedside, also looking for my ring. "Where are your rings, Faramir?" she wailed, but I had decided that I would not say another word to her, and so I remained silent. The Southron drew his dagger and cut all of my bonds, before he roughly dragged me from the bed by my right arm. Though I was weak, I did not fall, and I simply stood near the doorway, shivering in my linen small clothes.
The Southron barked something at Almaria, and she shook her head, vehemently denying something, before he pulled out his purse and offered her a gold coin. She seemed reluctant to accept it, most likely hoping for more, but after he pushed it at her, speaking the same words again and again, she seized it from his hand and wrapped her fingers about it tightly.
"Madach, fetch Faramir's clothes," she said, and the boy complied without a word, retrieving all of my belongings from a trunk near the fireplace, save my dagger, sword belt and rings. He put them in a pile upon the floor next to me. Surprisingly, Madach spoke quietly to me.
"I mended your surcoat as well as I could, Faramir." While his back was to the others, he patted the same pocket where he had placed my rings the night before. "I also replaced the missing lacing with some extra that we yet had from when Da lived with us." I nodded my thanks to him, letting my expression soften somewhat. "Thank you for the dagger," he murmured before his mother spoke.
"Get dressed, Lord Steward. Hiryaher needs to return to his men quickly."
Awkwardly I picked up my surcoat with my quivering fingers, shaking it out before I slung it around my shoulders and attempted to slip my good arm into the sleeve. Madach moved behind me and helped me with it, and then he aided me with the rest of my clothing as well. When I began to don my boots, the Southron came to me and snatched them away, saying something to Almaria.
"He says that you will not need boots. He does not want you to wear them, so that he should not have to worry about chasing you very far," she interpreted for me. I narrowed my eyes at the Southron, and he sneered back for a moment only, before he backhanded my face hard enough to send me sprawling through the doorway and onto the wet grass. My arm and side both throbbing, I regained my feet somewhat slower than I would have liked, though I resumed my contemptuous expression quickly enough.
And the Southron laughed in return before he threw my boots to Madach, saying something to the boy that caused him to nod. The warrior moved within a foot of my face and stared at me with brown eyes, before he said in heavily-accented Westron, "You are foolish to think that you should live long if you defy me. This woman," he added, indicating Almaria with a movement of his head, "thinks you are important somehow, but I do not see it. To me, you look sick and weak and broken."
He seemed to think it was news to me, but I merely glared at him and said naught. I looked over his shoulder a moment and saw Almaria returning to her hovel, shooing her younger children in before her, my fate all but forgotten, though her son stayed outside and watched the Southron and me, while fingering my dagger hilt, the belt where it was sheathed now buckled about his waist.
Hiryaher took a step backward before he cruelly smiled and punched me in my broken arm. I could not help it; I fell to my knees with a groan, and then the man's sword point was at my throat, and I wondered why he had bothered to pay Almaria a gold coin for a man that he was planning to kill anyway. I looked down at the blade, barely daring to breathe, and noted how dirty and rusted that it was. I was dismayed when I realized that it was not dirt upon the blade, but poison.
My eyes flicked back to his face, and he smiled, relishing the fact that I knew that he held my death in his hands, and he could offer me a quick, painless one, or a slow, lingering one. With a lightning-fast flick of his wrist, he chose the latter. I felt the tip of the blade nick the soft flesh of my throat, the thin trail of warm blood trickling forth, and then the slow burn of the poison as it entered my body in the tiniest quantity.
"Rise!" he commanded me while sheathing his sword. I sighed and hung my head, gathering my strength, defying him, when I heard the strangest sound from the Southron, almost a choking noise. I looked up at him just in time to see his eyes glaze over as his body slid lifelessly to the ground, revealing Madach standing behind him, my bloody dagger still clutched in his fingers.
I struggled back to my feet and lurched toward the boy, who stood in shock, blood staining his tattered clothing. "I did not mean to kill him," he muttered, his eyes wide in shock and fear. Gently I took the weapon from him, wiping it on the Southron's clothing before I resheathed it upon the belt Madach wore. "He was going to kill you, Faramir."
"Madach, you did the right thing," I said quietly while wishing silently that the boy had been two minutes faster. "Tell me, how many Haradrim were with this man?"
"Three," he said absently.
I grasped the boy's shoulder with my good hand. "Madach, it shall not be long before his fellows come looking for him. You must hide the body quickly."
He seemed to awaken from his daze then, and he grabbed the dead man's wrists and pulled him into the tallest grass to the east of the house while I clumsily pulled on my boots and watched for signs of trouble from the direction of the river and also from the direction of the hovel. Thank the Valar that no one came as Madach relieved the dead man of his sword belt and the remaining coins from his purse.
He quickly returned to my side with his new treasures. Immediately I removed the sword from its sheath, studying the curved blade and the poison upon it. Madach buckled the sword belt around my waist, and I thanked him before I resheathed the weapon and then asked the boy for my rings.
"I would yet hold them for you, Faramir, for I am coming with you."
"Nay, Madach," I argued. "It is unsafe for you. You should stay here with your mother."
"It is unsafe for you as well," he said defiantly. "And I will not stay here with Mother. She no longer needs me anyway, and you do."
Though there were myriad arguments that I could have used to discourage him, I did not have the time or energy to debate him, and so I began to walk east, knowing that it was probably too dangerous near the river until the Haradrim patrol had departed from the area. Madach followed me for a while, saying nothing. But when my steps began to falter, he fell into step beside me, and soon I was leaning upon him for support as we wended our way through the wet fields of South Gondor.
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There is only a certain amount of cleaning that one person can do at a time. I learned this when I decided to take on the task of cleaning and airing out the Steward's residence as a distraction from my troubles.
The house had been closed up for nearly a year, and it was very dusty inside. Serni and I headed the group of servants who aided us, but I had kept some of the more arduous tasks for myself, such as uncovering and rearranging the furniture, so we might sweep under it all, and carrying the mattresses to the lawn to air them out. The physical labor was most welcome, and I felt better also knowing that I was making Faramir's house ready for him when he at last was returned to me.
There were more than a few rooms in this residence that I did not care for. For example, the dining room was decorated all in dark blue. Even the large dining table was sheathed in dark blue fabric which hid the lovely wood from appreciative eyes. I decided a few changes were in order and hoped that Faramir would not mind that I had redecorated the house he had been raised in without his leave.
Of course, I left his study untouched, except for opening the shutters to let some light shine into the chamber. His room should remain wholly his, and I would not deign to change anything about it, with or without his leave. But at nights, weary from exertion, I would yet sleep here, feeling his nearness despite the distance between us. I prayed that I would have some news of him soon.
The queen had been visiting me oft in the afternoons, I think sensing that I required a pause during my exertions. Though Aragorn had been gone only for six days, Arwen seemed quite lonely and in need of a friend. I welcomed the times we spent together, feeling more at ease speaking with her about Faramir than anyone else I knew.
"How fares your child, Éowyn?" she asked me one day. I placed my hand on my belly.
"He is well, I believe, though I have no true sign of his coming yet."
Arwen smiled. "You shall soon enough, I am certain." She sobered then. "Remember that I am here if you should require anything." I nodded, thinking that she was speaking only of the babe, but she added, "Have you put any thought into what you would do if Faramir should not return?"
I was stunned by her question. "Nay, lady, for I have never thought that he should not. Have you given up hope as well?"
The look in her blue eyes was a strange mixture of innocence and great wisdom as she looked deep into my grey ones. "Nay, Éowyn, for there is always hope. I only wish for you to think on all sides of the matter, not only the one that you wish to be the truth."
I nodded, my weariness enabling me to not be wroth with her, though any other time I most probably would have been.
"Arwen, what would you do if Aragorn had disappeared as Faramir has?"
"I would do much as you have done, Éowyn. But your situation is different because you carry his child, and so you cannot aid in the search for him."
Her words reminded me of how truly useless I felt. "But, Arwen, I think I shall go insane if I am forced to wait much longer."
"It takes more strength to wait and hope than to be the one who does the searching. And you are one of the strongest people that I know."
I blushed in embarrassment. "I am most impatient, though, no matter what strength I yet have."
The queen smiled. "Oh yes, I am well aware of that as well, though patience is the most difficult virtue to attain if it does not come naturally. Even my father, with his many centuries of experience, has trouble finding it oft times." She patted my arm. "But a time for action shall eventually arrive, and you shall be ready for it when it does."
I held out not much hope for myself if Lord Elrond could not be patient. I smiled then as well, and thanked the queen for cheering me during such a difficult time. And I truly hoped that if there was a time for action that I would be ready as she had said, if only for Faramir's sake.
After so much exertion, though, I learned that I was not ready for any action when an unexpected wave of weakness washed over me, and I nearly fell from my chair insensible, Arwen calmly ordered me to bed and had me carried there by Einarfin. She summoned her own personal healer to my side, and after a thorough examination, he confirmed what my husband had known all along: I held the heir to the Stewardship of Gondor and the Princedom of Ithilien in my womb.
He congratulated me, but I felt naught but fear, an unfamiliar sensation for me. The queen formally congratulated me as well, though she sensed my discomfort and sent the healer away.
"My lady, what is it?" she asked me, sitting upon the edge of the bed and taking my hand in hers.
"I am frightened," I whispered. "I know naught about babies. How am I to take care of him, if I do not know how?"
"You shall have a nurse to help you, Éowyn. And many friends. And Faramir."
It took me only a moment to realize that it was not the baby that frightened me so much as the fact that my faith in my husband was beginning to fail. And when I at last allowed the tears to fall after Arwen departed the chamber, I silently begged for Faramir to understand and to forgive me if he would.
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"Is their aught I can do for you, Faramir?"
I heard Madach's voice, though it seemed distant. I had sat down in the grass a short time before dusk, and he was allowing me to rest, but I think that as he listened to me desperately laboring to breathe between the long coughing spells that had begun only in the last hour or so, that he was beginning to realize that I had already arrived at the end of my strength.
I nodded my head, hoping for some water, but certain that if I spoke, the coughing would begin again, and my side would be filled with agony again. He knelt beside me in the grass, obviously uncertain of what to do for me, though oddly enough, his presence calmed me greatly.
"Water," I finally croaked, and he complied rapidly, holding the stream to my lips himself because I was much too unsteady. After I had drunk my fill, he sat and held my trembling hand, and I desperately tried to stay awake, unwilling to leave this boy alone here in the wild, with a chance that the Haradrim might find him and realize that he had been the one who had killed their comrade.
But despite my exhaustion, sleep did not claim me anyway, for the pain that the poison caused was too great. When it became fully dark, and the rain had finally abated, I bade Madach to lay down and sleep if he could, falsely assuring him that I would be well enough by morning to move further.
But when the first fingers of the dawn reached out from the western horizon, my condition was no better. I was in agonizing pain, and I thought then for the first time that I should never see Éowyn again and how wroth she would be with me when she learned that my last words to her had been lies. For Emyn Arnen was a longer journey than I should ever be able to make on foot in this poor condition, and even if the whole of the Gondorian army was to come to my aid, they knew not where I was, or indeed, if I was even alive. I wondered if the boy would go ahead for help, though there was a possibility that he might cross paths with the Haradrim again, and I was unwilling to sacrifice him for my sake. I allowed Madach to wake when he would, and it was not very long before his eyelids fluttered open, and he stretched before he sat up and inquired after me.
I wondered how I would ever convince him to leave me behind. My silence alarmed him somewhat, and he again offered me the water. I gratefully drank it, and then I told him that he should go on by himself.
He seemed shocked. "No, Faramir. I would not leave you behind because you did not leave me."
"But, Madach, I cannot go any farther. My strength is spent. I shall only worsen, and soon I shall die."
"No!" Tears sprang to his eyes as he grasped my hand tightly again. "You cannot. Do not leave me like Da did, please!"
"Madach, will you not go ahead for help for me? If you hurry, I may yet live." I knew it was a terrible responsibility to thrust upon the boy, but I saw naught else for it. He eyed me sullenly for but a moment before he nodded in agreement. Between coughing fits, I told him which way he needed to go and explained how to reach Emyn Arnen from here. Most especially, I told him to be careful, not wanting him to be captured, or worse, by the Southrons.
I was overcome by a particularly violent spasm, and I when it had finally passed, Madach was gone. With a groan, I laid down in the grass and awaited death.
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The rain stopped in the middle of the night, and at first light, I departed my pavilion, intending to resume the search. On my way to retrieve my horse, a mounted messenger came at a gallop from the north, and I recognized him as one of Solasgil's men. He relayed to me that they had been successful in destroying a rather small Haradrim force without many casualties on our side, and that a few prisoners had been taken for questioning. The remainder of the army would most likely be back within a day. I thanked him with a nod and continued my walk. A pair of rangers appeared then, and I stopped to find out what they wanted.
"My lord king," said the elder, a short, blond man, who bowed respectfully, "I am Lieutenant Anborn, and this," he indicated the thin, young man next to him, "is Lieutenant Odrastor. I served under Captain Faramir during the War. We were both hoping that you would allow us to come with you on your search today, my lord."
"Anborn." The name seemed familiar. "You were with Lady Éowyn when the outpost was burned?"
"Yes, lord, both of us were," answered the younger one.
I clasped each of their hands in turn. "I would be honored for both of you to accompany me on my search then. Lord Faramir is in need of any help that is available." They both thanked me and fell into step behind me, as I went directly to my horse, deciding that I was not hungry enough to bother breaking my fast.
Our three mounts were furnished quickly along with horses for Vëantor and two guards to accompany us. I did not wish to bring too many men, hoping that any tracks that might yet remain, would not be accidentally obscured by our small force. We all mounted and I directed that we would ride across the Fords of Poros again, choosing at random to move downstream, as I had a fleeting notion that there might be something found in that direction.
Odrastor, Anborn and I rode at the fore, staying a few paces apart as we searched for any clues of passage, but even as morning passed into midday, we had found no sign of Faramir. I was growing weary of the apparent fruitlessness of this, but both of the lieutenants seemed eager to continue, so I allowed it, though I paused to drink some water and confer with Vëantor. His expression was one of guarded pessimism.
"What say you, Colonel?"
He seemed reluctant to speak, but said eventually, "King Elessar, perhaps Lord Faramir went eastward instead. Though I think it highly unlikely that he would have ventured in any direction other than the one that leads toward safety."
"Perhaps, though Faramir oft thinks first of his men, and if he was able, I have no doubt that he would have run in the opposite direction, if only to give the other rangers and his wife a head start." I could tell from his expression that he had yet more to say.
"My king," he said at last, "how can you be certain that the steward yet lives? He has been missing for over a week now. If he was not taken a prisoner by the Southrons, then should he not have returned home by now?"
"I fear that he may not be able, Colonel. But I promised his lady wife that I would return him to her, and I fully intend to." I put away my waterskin. "We have searched but a few hours. I will give him more time yet. Have patience, Vëantor."
He nodded. "Of course, King Elessar."
I rode forth to catch up to the lieutenants, and we continued the search along the river bank. By late afternoon, we had covered nearly five leagues of ground. I deemed by then that there was not much chance that the man had come so far downstream, and so we turned toward our camp.
We all remained silent on the way back, our thought our own. But regardless of what the other men might have been thinking, I still I held hope within my heart.