Chapter Twelve
I ran. I ran faster than ever before. My feet were being torn on the sharp rocks and the biting wind made my lips blue with cold but I didn't stop. I could hear the alarms going off back in the camp and the dogs barking madly - some of the prisoners shouted encouragement from far away, and the sounds of gun shots followed.
The encouragement stopped abruptly.
I wanted to scream, to collapse, to cry. But I couldn't. I had to get away first. I pushed myself harder, stumbling occasionally but continuing the terrible climb up over the rocks. I had to get some distance between the prison camp and I. The Klucks mustn't get me. I knew one more day of torture would break me, and that wasn't an option.
Eventually, the barking of the guard dogs faded away and I found myself alone, exhausted and freezing on a ledge on the cliff face, a good mile or so away from the camp. It was only then that I began forming a plan. I inspected my bloody, aching feet and ended up having to sit on them to keep them warm. I stoutly ignored the pain that coursed through my body. My shoulder length, matted hair was in my way and little icicles were forming from where it had been damp with sweat. I hacked off my hair with the knife I had stolen from a guard. I heard a dog howl, close above me on the next ledge and I flattened myself against the wall, biting down on a scream.
They had found me.
"Peace, you are safe." A voice said far away. My eyes snapped open and all I could see was a blur of colour. Nightmare. Just a nightmare, a memory of a world I ad long since left. "Come back to us." The voice continued, slurred and echoing through my mind. I squinted and licked my lips, the dizziness ebbing away when I sipped the cup of water at my lips. I sluggishly pushed the goblet away, blinking slowly,
"Where am I?" I mumbled, looking down to find myself warm and clean on a soft bed.
"You are in Rohan once again." An old, tired voice said.
"Who're you?" I asked, moving back and wincing at the effort.
"I am a Healer, Feora. I am one of the best Healers of the land, King Theoden would have nothing less. And you are Captain Faith, a slayer of Orcs as far as I can gather. You are wanted at the feast tonight, if you feel fit." She said, busying herself by piling on another fur and straightening the pillow under my head.
"So you … you know. About who I really am." I said unsurely, my voice still a little hoarse. The old woman flashed a toothless smile,
"I know nothing except that you are a warrior." She said, standing. I smiled back and pushed myself into a sitting position, ignoring the aches all over my body. "Will you require my help?" She asked, already setting to work before I could answer. I opened my mouth to protest but quickly changed my mind when I heard by joints audibly crack as I stretched them.
"Thanks." I muttered grudgingly. I hated being treated like a child.
She smeared a mint smelling goop over my cuts and helped me get changed into some clean clothes (dead embarrassing as one could imagine). She dressed me in the normal clothes of the Rohan riders which was bloody nuisance, I can tell you. First a deep green tunic, then a pair of brown of leggings and worn leather boots with an engraved belt, blah blah blah ... honestly. Give me a pair of combat boots, regulation trousers and a t-shirt any day.
I thanked Feora before following the sound of people and the clinking of plates down the corridors. At one point I came back to the mirror that I had used a life time ago – or so it seemed anyway. I reluctantly had a look and jumped, startled at what I found.
I looked awful.
The left side of my faces was black and blue with bruises and a large cut ran from my cheek to by lip. The only thing that stopped me looking like a complete monster was the fact that there wasn't any swelling. Thank the Valar for small mercies, eh?
When I finally reached the Golden Hall, I was ready to out-drink and out-eat any man in the place. I grabbed the nearest plate of grub I could find and basically tore at the turkey leg like a starved wolf, only pausing to guzzle the warm wine in the goblet. No one minded. They all did the same thing, but more beards were involved. When my hunger and thirst was finally sated, I realised someone was watching me. I looked behind me to find a bemused elf observing me, sipping his goblet delicately as though to prove a point.
I glared. Bloody Elves.
"You are putting the men to shame, captain Faith. How on earth can you fit such a vast amount of food into such a small body?" He asked, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. The moment stretched on and a few of the men who'd been listening turned to watch.
"I haven't a clue. Perhaps you could tell me your secret. Most elven men as slender as their women, are they not?" I asked cheekily. More people began to watch but there was nothing much to see. Within a moment, Haldir began to laugh and he abruptly pulled me into a very un-elf-like hug. It was nice. I swore under my breath when I forgot about my face and allowed it to bump into Haldir's shoulder. He was, after all, a good deal taller than me.
"I am sorry. I should have realised you would still be in pain." He said quickly, stepping back. I saw reluctant worry shining through his eyes and attempted to smile. The product must have been hideous, what with the crusted blood on the corner of my mouth and the black and blue shiny bruises. Snogging was certainly off the 'To Do' list for a good while yet.
Haldir lead me through the hall (I spotted Merry and Pippin dancing around on the table tops). I was greeted like a long lost friend by the broken remains of the fellowship. Aragorn kissed my forehead (brave of him), Legolas squeezed my hand (a safe bet. No bruises there) and Gimli … well, Gimli nearly knocked me over with his bear hug around my knees.
That night I felt … like a kid, I suppose. I knew there was far more to come, far more to face but somehow that was alright. I was alive and kicking, and I intended to make the best of it. I laughed and danced and even was poked into singing a song once I had drunk a couple of mugs of honey mead. And two goblets of mulled wine. And a shot of amber stuff that looked a lot like whisky. I went to sleep in the wee hours of the morning … well, more like passed out but hey, who wants the details, right?
I was jarred awake a few hours later, surrounded by screams, shouting and a blinding white light, accompanied by a searing pain in my forehead. Not the most pleasant of wake-up calls after indulging in a night of under age alcohol consuming, as you can imagine.
"PIPPIN!" I looked up in time to see the little hobbit writhing in agony on the cold stone floors, his hands clamped tightly around the glass ball that I recognized to be the one from Saruman's keep. I reached out to him but it was too late, the ball rolled from his hands and he lay still and quiet.
"This is my fault." I whispered. As Gandalf knelt beside him, waking him, my world had already begun to shudder and creak. One night of letting my guard down, allowing myself to relax and this was the result. Had I been awake and alert, I might have prevented this. I knew that this was going to happen, of course I did, I knew the myths well enough to remember how Pippin foolishly looked into the orb and glimpsed the enemy's plans. I could have prevented this but I was too involved in myself. The first thing you learn in battle is that a captain never relaxes or let's themselves get carried away.
Because if a captain makes a mistake, people get hurt. People die.
I've seen and done too much to have the luxury of being an irresponsible kid. I've looked into dying soldier's eyes and told them they'd be alright, knowing full well they wouldn't last the hour. I've walked away from burning cities, ordered to ignore the hopeless cries of those who were still trapped in the flames.
I snapped my eyes back towards the scene unfolding in front of me and followed the group as we headed towards the Golden Hall to talk with Theoden.
The night bled into the day as they agonized over all our options. I stayed quiet, for once, but I wasn't really paying much attention. I was thinking. When we were in Isengard, Gandalf has said something about Saruman's book. He had said he'd seen the location of the book in the markings on the floor.
Well what the fuck did that mean?
Bloody wizards. They always speak in riddles and I have a strong feeling it's a conscious effort to annoy lesser beings. Delos used to do the same, speak in riddles I mean. He was too smart for his own good. Only my age and he'd almost finished medical school – hence why he was our head medic. I liked Delos from the moment I met him, when he fixed my knee after I was shot. Most people were put off my his cold intelligence and disdainful sneers, but I always found him more amusing than anything else.
"… Faith cannot ride a horse comfortably when he is fit, never mind when he is injured and weak. He cannot make the journey to Gondor without causing himself further harm." Haldir was saying furiously to Gandalf. I pulled myself from my thoughts and jumped to my feet.
"I think should decide if I'm well enough to ride or not, Captain.I'm not a child, I know if I am able." I snapped, shooting an icy glare at Aragorn, who looked as though he agreed with the Elf.
"Yes, of course." Gandalf said, infuriatingly calm as always. I believe it may be in your interests to go as a certain book is hidden deep within the archives of the White City. Gandalf's voice echoed inside my head, his piercing grey eyes boring into mine. Ah. That was … odd.
"Well then, I am well enough to go. Just a little bruised. I should like to go, if it would please King Theoden." I said, looking to him with my heart thumping in my throat. The man nodded and put a hand on my shoulder.
"You truly are of a noble heart and spirit." He said, squeezing gently. He turned to one of the men standing at the back of the hall. "Gamling! Make sure Captain Faith has the best horse we can offer him. His own horse is too exhausted to make such a journey." He said. Suddenly, I was being hustled towards the huge doors with Gandalf, Pippin, Merry and Haldir.
"You must not go! You are not well!" Haldir was saying, quickening his pace to match mine.
"I'm fine. I'll be fine." I muttered, eyes fixed on Gandalf's white robes, a little way ahead of us.
"Why do you want to go with them? Nothing waits for you in Gondor. Unless …" He trailed off and suddenly, he stiffened and his jaw was set. "Your paramour awaits you there." He finished, his voice hard. I blinked. Para-what? I scanned the word through my mind and thought about the context. Why would he be … oh! Paramour = Boyfriend.
"What? No! How could you think that?" I hissed, struggling to keep my voice down. "In Gondor … listen, I'm on a quest of sorts. I must go to Gondor because there is something kept there that I need. That my people need." I said, my voice hushed so that no one around us could hear. Instantly, Haldir relaxed slightly and I finally was able to look up into his face.
"I understand." He replied quietly. We had reached the entrance to the stables. "Shall I see you before the next new moon?" He asked.
"I hope so." I replied, feeling ridiculously embarrassed. He smiled and kissed my eyelids gently before releasing my hands and turning away. I stood there like a lemon for a minute or so before I heard Gandalf's voice calling me in.
"This is your horse. His name is Eaosye." Gandalf said, hading me the reigns of the largest dark grey horse I had ever laid eyes on. I looked at it dubiously and near stamped my feet with frustration. Why, oh why, was I always the one stuck with the biggest, meanest bloody horse you could possible find? As I hauled myself up into the saddle and was nearly thrown off it when the horse galloped after Gandalf and Pippin sharing a horse, only one thought was flashing through my mind.
The man who had chosen my steed --Gamling-- would pay.