Author's note: Hi, everyone! I'm still alive! This has actually been written for awhile, but lately what time I've had on the internet I've used looking at sites devoted to Haldir and the wonderful actor who portrayed him. *sigh* I know, I'm selfish. Leaving you all with a cliffhanger. Bad Shelly! At one point, I couldn't get onto FF.Net so I guess I'm giving them a little time to get things straight. Yeah, that's it! ^^;;; Anyway, here it is. Enjoy!
Rhovanion's Child by Shelly
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cold, dark water closed in over her head, choking off her only source of air, and she fought weakly to reach the surface as she swallowed a mouthful of water and felt more inside her nose. The cold water numbed the pain in her side, and she felt something brush up against her, wondering what it was and grabbing onto it for dear life if it meant getting her to the surface.
Boromir also struggled through the water, searching for her and unable to find her in the dark waters made even more difficult by the reflection of the silver moon shining above them. He remembered seeing her fall after his brother and a surviving soldier had pushed her over, but had lost their grip on her after that, and now all of them hoped for a sign that she was okay.
"Elena!" he called out, trying to remain calm although he wondered why it was he was so concerned about her return. He knew it was just because she fought along with them, and he didn't wish to just leave her behind without knowing what happened to her. Or was it maybe something else that drove him to find her?
His thoughts were cut off as he felt something make a grab for him, and he reached down to grab a handful of wet clothing and haul it up to the surface, an ecstatic grin appearing when he saw her rise, choking and spluttering from the water she had swallowed. "Elena? Can you hear me?" he asked her urgently.
When she finally regained control of herself, she opened her burning eyes and looked upon the man who had rescued her, a sigh of relief escaping when she saw Boromir's familiar face. She had worried that perhaps it was some orc or dead soldier she had grabbed onto, but was thankful it wasn't. "Boromir," she croaked, her throat raw from coughing up water.
He sent a prayer up to the heavens that she was okay, at least for the most part. He had seen her get cut by the orc that had attacked her, and he was careful not to aggravate it further. "Elena, come around behind me and wrap your arms and legs around me. We've got to make for the shore as fast as we can before the enemy sees us."
As if on cue, she heard the shrill whistling of arrows through the air then the faint splash as they hit the water, and she quickly took him up on his idea as he started swimming for the opposite side, letting his brother know that he had found her. A couple of times the orc's aim came close, but then they swam out of range of their weapons and the only thing they had to fight was the current.
Soon they reached the other side, and they lie there on the grass for some time to catch their breath, Elena shivering as the cold air brushed over her wet skin, and with it came memory of the time she and Aragorn had camped at Henneth Annun. It seemed so long ago, and perhaps it was, almost a year now since she had met him. She wondered how he was doing in his quest in the north, and she hoped it was better than the way hers had turned out.
Tears began to leak from her eyes as she remembered the promise she had made to him. "I have failed you, Aragorn," she whispered. "I am sorry. I have failed everyone, and now evil has crossed into the north. I'm so sorry," she wept as she turned on her side, wept from the weakness that claimed her body and now her spirit as hopelessness set in.
That very same night, far to the north of Gondor, a ranger slept uneasily amongst the sheets and covers of the bed he had acquired for the night in the Prancing Pony. Long had he been watching the borders of the Shire, and the surrounding lands as well for any signs of danger, but so far had only come across a few here and there that were easily dealt with. During that time, his thoughts had often wandered to Rhiannon's progress and he had wondered how she was doing.
Tonight, however, his thoughts of her haunted his sleep, and as he floated in and out of his dreams, he could almost feel her there beside him and hear her breathing as he did when he had watched over her sleep during those months they were together. Then all of a sudden it was as if she was there next to him, although it appeared as if she had been in a recent battle that had taken its toll on her, and her despair reached out to him and engulfed him. "Rhiannon," he moaned in his sleep, reaching out towards her with his hand as if by willing it he would feel the softness of her skin underneath his fingers.
Rhiannon heard the whisper of her name as if on the wings of a breeze, and when she opened her eyes she saw Aragorn lying there beside her, his hand within reaching distance of her own. She stretched out her own hand and felt its warmth within her own, knowing that even though they were apart they would always be together inside their hearts. The thought comforted her just as she slipped into the darkness of sleep, her despair slowly easing from her heart and soul.
Boromir knelt by her side, hearing her voice and wondering what she was saying as her words were too soft for him to make out clearly. He touched the back of his hand to her skin, feeling the coolness and becoming alarmed since she had to have lost a fair amount of blood from the cut to her side. She was also shivering, another sign that wasn't good, and suddenly she reached out as if searching for something. He enclosed her hand in his, and it seemed to help as she slipped further into sleep, although that wasn't what he wanted right now.
"Hold on, Elena," he said to her. "You've got to hold on until I can get you to the healers. Faramir! Alert the wall tower that we need some horses!"
"It's been taken care of, Captain," Faramir replied as he knelt down across from Boromir. "He should be back any time now." Then he lookd down at her, his face heavy with worry. "Will she make it, do you think?"
Boromir sighed heavily. "I should think so. She's faced worse than this, I'm sure, and survived. I sense strength in her, and I doubt that she'll give up so easily without a fight."
"She is brave," Faramir added. "She fought more fiercely than even some of the soldiers did. I should hate to lose her so soon."
Boromir glanced up at his brother, wondering at his words as he thought he detected a certain tone in them. Was he saying that because he admired her bravery in battle? Or was it something more?
The sound of hoofbeats carried to them on the night breeze, and soon they were heading towards the city, Boromir holding Rhiannon securely in front of him, unwilling to release her until they reached the Houses of Healing. Only then did he turn her over to their care, and he joined his brother as they returned to the White Tower to inform their father of their defeat and of the destruction of the bridge.
Rhiannon stirred slowly from her slumber, the sounds around her becoming familiar to her the longer she was awake. Although she heard no voices, she could tell that she was in the Houses of Healing judging from her own predicament. For all accounts she was indeed lying naked under the sheets, or would be if not for the thin gown that she wore. She felt at her side a thick bandage where she had been wounded by the orc, and she wondered how long she had been asleep.
"I see you're coming around," a calm voice spoke at her side.
She glanced over to see Faramir sitting by her bedside, holding a book in his hands which he had been reading, the title unreadable to her. "How long have I slept?" she asked, her voice thick and a little raspy from her ordeal.
He reached for the glass on the table at her bedside and filled it with water from the pitcher before handing it to her. "About a week," he replied evenly as she drank.
She almost choked on what little she had swallowed. "A week!" she exclaimed.
He chuckled at her reaction. "You needed rest, Elena," he said. "Apparently you haven't had much time to sleep lately. That and the fact that you've obviously run yourself into the ground enough to make you exhausted."
She sighed heavily. "I guess I have," she answered. "I hope you didn't sit by my bedside for a full week," she pointed out drily.
"No, not at all. I came by when I had the time, which I happen to have plenty of, and Boromir would stop in from time to time to check on you."
She smiled at him. "I thank you for your kindness," she said. "What is it you're reading?" she asked as she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. It hurt somewhat for her to do that, but she gritted her teeth and bore the pain if it meant doing something else than lying down on her back.
"It's a history of Gondor," he replied. "When I have the time, I often read about many things."
She looked over at him, noticing his grave expression and fearing that he might know of who she was. "Gondor has a long history," she pointed out. "It makes good reading material."
"That it does," he agreed. "Especially if one is interested in the Kin-Strife Wars that took place thousands of years ago. It all started out as a lovely tale. Seeking to strengthen relations between Gondor and the Northmen, King Romendacil sent his son, Valacar, to stay with them for a short time to learn their customs and their language. But he did more than that. He fell in love with the Rhovanion king's daughter and married her.
"But little did he know that upon his death would there be rebellion amongst his people. They would not accept Eldacar as their king, simply because he was not pure in blood, and they rose up against him. He fought them with the indomitable spirit that came from his northern heritage, and was eventually cornered in Osgiliath. There the tower was destroyed, and his son captured, who was later put to death by Castamir. Eldacar fled into Rhovanion, where over the span of ten years he hid, building his strength for the day when he would avenge his son's death and reclaim what was his."
She sat there in silence as she listened to him, knowing without a doubt that he knew who she was and that was why he was telling her this. "Which he did do, if my memory serves me correctly," she said, trying to act calm.
Faramir nodded. "He did. And now I suspect that during his stay in the north, he fathered other children. Or perhaps they stayed hidden in fear of another war when he returned."
She sighed heavily. "So you have figured out who I am," she finally said, knowing it was hopeless to continue to lie about it. "I wonder how?"
He smiled then at her admittance of who she was. "Your weapons, my lady," he replied. "Your dagger holds the shield of Gondor, that of the white tree and seven stars that is our standard, no doubt handed down by Eldacar himself."
"How is it that you are so sure of what it is? A weapon alone cannot tell a person's true heritage," she conceded.
"Ah, but it can," he rebuked her. "Especially when its mate can be found here, stored with his body inside the House of the Kings at the end of Rath Dinen, the Silent Street."
She had to admit he had her there, and she wondered what he would do with his discovery. Would he tell his father and brother of it? Or would he do the noble thing and keep it a secret between them?
****************
Hmmm, what will he do with this bit of info? Of course we all know what he will do as he always does the honorable thing.
And chalk up number three for the times I have seen TTT! And I know there are those of you who have seen it more than that! Thanks for reading! C-ya!
Rhovanion's Child by Shelly
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cold, dark water closed in over her head, choking off her only source of air, and she fought weakly to reach the surface as she swallowed a mouthful of water and felt more inside her nose. The cold water numbed the pain in her side, and she felt something brush up against her, wondering what it was and grabbing onto it for dear life if it meant getting her to the surface.
Boromir also struggled through the water, searching for her and unable to find her in the dark waters made even more difficult by the reflection of the silver moon shining above them. He remembered seeing her fall after his brother and a surviving soldier had pushed her over, but had lost their grip on her after that, and now all of them hoped for a sign that she was okay.
"Elena!" he called out, trying to remain calm although he wondered why it was he was so concerned about her return. He knew it was just because she fought along with them, and he didn't wish to just leave her behind without knowing what happened to her. Or was it maybe something else that drove him to find her?
His thoughts were cut off as he felt something make a grab for him, and he reached down to grab a handful of wet clothing and haul it up to the surface, an ecstatic grin appearing when he saw her rise, choking and spluttering from the water she had swallowed. "Elena? Can you hear me?" he asked her urgently.
When she finally regained control of herself, she opened her burning eyes and looked upon the man who had rescued her, a sigh of relief escaping when she saw Boromir's familiar face. She had worried that perhaps it was some orc or dead soldier she had grabbed onto, but was thankful it wasn't. "Boromir," she croaked, her throat raw from coughing up water.
He sent a prayer up to the heavens that she was okay, at least for the most part. He had seen her get cut by the orc that had attacked her, and he was careful not to aggravate it further. "Elena, come around behind me and wrap your arms and legs around me. We've got to make for the shore as fast as we can before the enemy sees us."
As if on cue, she heard the shrill whistling of arrows through the air then the faint splash as they hit the water, and she quickly took him up on his idea as he started swimming for the opposite side, letting his brother know that he had found her. A couple of times the orc's aim came close, but then they swam out of range of their weapons and the only thing they had to fight was the current.
Soon they reached the other side, and they lie there on the grass for some time to catch their breath, Elena shivering as the cold air brushed over her wet skin, and with it came memory of the time she and Aragorn had camped at Henneth Annun. It seemed so long ago, and perhaps it was, almost a year now since she had met him. She wondered how he was doing in his quest in the north, and she hoped it was better than the way hers had turned out.
Tears began to leak from her eyes as she remembered the promise she had made to him. "I have failed you, Aragorn," she whispered. "I am sorry. I have failed everyone, and now evil has crossed into the north. I'm so sorry," she wept as she turned on her side, wept from the weakness that claimed her body and now her spirit as hopelessness set in.
That very same night, far to the north of Gondor, a ranger slept uneasily amongst the sheets and covers of the bed he had acquired for the night in the Prancing Pony. Long had he been watching the borders of the Shire, and the surrounding lands as well for any signs of danger, but so far had only come across a few here and there that were easily dealt with. During that time, his thoughts had often wandered to Rhiannon's progress and he had wondered how she was doing.
Tonight, however, his thoughts of her haunted his sleep, and as he floated in and out of his dreams, he could almost feel her there beside him and hear her breathing as he did when he had watched over her sleep during those months they were together. Then all of a sudden it was as if she was there next to him, although it appeared as if she had been in a recent battle that had taken its toll on her, and her despair reached out to him and engulfed him. "Rhiannon," he moaned in his sleep, reaching out towards her with his hand as if by willing it he would feel the softness of her skin underneath his fingers.
Rhiannon heard the whisper of her name as if on the wings of a breeze, and when she opened her eyes she saw Aragorn lying there beside her, his hand within reaching distance of her own. She stretched out her own hand and felt its warmth within her own, knowing that even though they were apart they would always be together inside their hearts. The thought comforted her just as she slipped into the darkness of sleep, her despair slowly easing from her heart and soul.
Boromir knelt by her side, hearing her voice and wondering what she was saying as her words were too soft for him to make out clearly. He touched the back of his hand to her skin, feeling the coolness and becoming alarmed since she had to have lost a fair amount of blood from the cut to her side. She was also shivering, another sign that wasn't good, and suddenly she reached out as if searching for something. He enclosed her hand in his, and it seemed to help as she slipped further into sleep, although that wasn't what he wanted right now.
"Hold on, Elena," he said to her. "You've got to hold on until I can get you to the healers. Faramir! Alert the wall tower that we need some horses!"
"It's been taken care of, Captain," Faramir replied as he knelt down across from Boromir. "He should be back any time now." Then he lookd down at her, his face heavy with worry. "Will she make it, do you think?"
Boromir sighed heavily. "I should think so. She's faced worse than this, I'm sure, and survived. I sense strength in her, and I doubt that she'll give up so easily without a fight."
"She is brave," Faramir added. "She fought more fiercely than even some of the soldiers did. I should hate to lose her so soon."
Boromir glanced up at his brother, wondering at his words as he thought he detected a certain tone in them. Was he saying that because he admired her bravery in battle? Or was it something more?
The sound of hoofbeats carried to them on the night breeze, and soon they were heading towards the city, Boromir holding Rhiannon securely in front of him, unwilling to release her until they reached the Houses of Healing. Only then did he turn her over to their care, and he joined his brother as they returned to the White Tower to inform their father of their defeat and of the destruction of the bridge.
Rhiannon stirred slowly from her slumber, the sounds around her becoming familiar to her the longer she was awake. Although she heard no voices, she could tell that she was in the Houses of Healing judging from her own predicament. For all accounts she was indeed lying naked under the sheets, or would be if not for the thin gown that she wore. She felt at her side a thick bandage where she had been wounded by the orc, and she wondered how long she had been asleep.
"I see you're coming around," a calm voice spoke at her side.
She glanced over to see Faramir sitting by her bedside, holding a book in his hands which he had been reading, the title unreadable to her. "How long have I slept?" she asked, her voice thick and a little raspy from her ordeal.
He reached for the glass on the table at her bedside and filled it with water from the pitcher before handing it to her. "About a week," he replied evenly as she drank.
She almost choked on what little she had swallowed. "A week!" she exclaimed.
He chuckled at her reaction. "You needed rest, Elena," he said. "Apparently you haven't had much time to sleep lately. That and the fact that you've obviously run yourself into the ground enough to make you exhausted."
She sighed heavily. "I guess I have," she answered. "I hope you didn't sit by my bedside for a full week," she pointed out drily.
"No, not at all. I came by when I had the time, which I happen to have plenty of, and Boromir would stop in from time to time to check on you."
She smiled at him. "I thank you for your kindness," she said. "What is it you're reading?" she asked as she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. It hurt somewhat for her to do that, but she gritted her teeth and bore the pain if it meant doing something else than lying down on her back.
"It's a history of Gondor," he replied. "When I have the time, I often read about many things."
She looked over at him, noticing his grave expression and fearing that he might know of who she was. "Gondor has a long history," she pointed out. "It makes good reading material."
"That it does," he agreed. "Especially if one is interested in the Kin-Strife Wars that took place thousands of years ago. It all started out as a lovely tale. Seeking to strengthen relations between Gondor and the Northmen, King Romendacil sent his son, Valacar, to stay with them for a short time to learn their customs and their language. But he did more than that. He fell in love with the Rhovanion king's daughter and married her.
"But little did he know that upon his death would there be rebellion amongst his people. They would not accept Eldacar as their king, simply because he was not pure in blood, and they rose up against him. He fought them with the indomitable spirit that came from his northern heritage, and was eventually cornered in Osgiliath. There the tower was destroyed, and his son captured, who was later put to death by Castamir. Eldacar fled into Rhovanion, where over the span of ten years he hid, building his strength for the day when he would avenge his son's death and reclaim what was his."
She sat there in silence as she listened to him, knowing without a doubt that he knew who she was and that was why he was telling her this. "Which he did do, if my memory serves me correctly," she said, trying to act calm.
Faramir nodded. "He did. And now I suspect that during his stay in the north, he fathered other children. Or perhaps they stayed hidden in fear of another war when he returned."
She sighed heavily. "So you have figured out who I am," she finally said, knowing it was hopeless to continue to lie about it. "I wonder how?"
He smiled then at her admittance of who she was. "Your weapons, my lady," he replied. "Your dagger holds the shield of Gondor, that of the white tree and seven stars that is our standard, no doubt handed down by Eldacar himself."
"How is it that you are so sure of what it is? A weapon alone cannot tell a person's true heritage," she conceded.
"Ah, but it can," he rebuked her. "Especially when its mate can be found here, stored with his body inside the House of the Kings at the end of Rath Dinen, the Silent Street."
She had to admit he had her there, and she wondered what he would do with his discovery. Would he tell his father and brother of it? Or would he do the noble thing and keep it a secret between them?
****************
Hmmm, what will he do with this bit of info? Of course we all know what he will do as he always does the honorable thing.
And chalk up number three for the times I have seen TTT! And I know there are those of you who have seen it more than that! Thanks for reading! C-ya!