Salutations, my esteemed readers! I would like to tell you that the latest delay in my story was due to many things, the least of which not being the advent of school. In addition, I wrote, directed, and starred in my own short film, along with my cousin. It was a quite un-brilliant production; it started out as a moving drama, but halfway through, the cast (which included my cousin, my mother, and my brother) and I decided that my dreams of an Oscar would have to wait until I got a budget over the balance of $0... so it turned into a parody, and (IMHO) it wasn't half bad. I'm thinking about making myself a website (something I have neglected to learn how to do as of yet) and post it there, along with some of my writing, much of which is original and you have not read yet. If I ever get around to it, you are all going to have to go view it... I'll alert you if I ever accomplish anything.
Anyhow, that's enough in the way of self-indulgence... here's chapter 11! Frodo and Sam don't make an appearance in this one, but everyone is talking about them, so it's not as if they are not influencing the entire course of events... After this chapter, the plot is really going to start moving, and the two groups of characters are going to come together... so everybody is going to be in the rest of the story... unless somebody dies, of course... Actually, I've decided that the plot is going to change so much after the next couple of chapters, that I am going to make this into a trilogy, because some of the events are nearly completely independent of what happened here. So the resolution of this fic is going to come in about three chapters, but I'll have the next part up right away. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Yellowrose : Thank you for your lovely review. By the way, your analysis of the situation right now is right on track! Yes, I have thoroughly enjoyed all of your stories... are you going to be starting anything new? I can't wait to read more of your work!
Breck : As I said, this is my last chapter without our two intrepid hobbits. It is also (although I hate to say it) probably going to be the shortest and most boring chapter of the whole thing. It is basically just a transition, summing up the seven years that passed since Frodo claimed the ring, and explaining what Gandalf is planning on doing. It just sets up what is going to be happening in the next chapters, which will be much more interesting! I'm glad you liked the way I wrote the ring... I was afraid that my theory (and therefore the entire plot) might be flawed, because I did not retain much information from the Silmarillion. This complement is especially flattering coming from you; your description of the ring was deep and absolutely stunning! Can I hope for an update to your fic soon? Yes, I like criticism as long as it is civil and coming from a well-informed person--- and your criticism is just this! And I agree with most of it... except for your criticism of, "I am quite sure it goes without saying..." It is not that rare for an author to commentate like that... Tolkien did it repeatedly in "The Hobbit." Perhaps it was misplaced in such a somber passage, but it certainly can be done. I'm glad you like the bit about Frodo "commandeering" the bed--- commandeering has been my favorite word since I first saw "Pirates of the Caribbean!" Thank you so much for your compliments--- your reviews make my day! Sorry, I didn't exactly give you a quick update, but you haven't given me one either! ::cracks whip:: "Get to work, you scum!"
AuraMaiden : Well, I've done the best I can to show that Gandalf, at least, cares about getting Sam back, but he certainly isn't going to be the centerpiece of any plan they concoct. You moved? Aw... I don't ever want to leave my house... ever, ever, ever, ever! (What shall I do when I must attend college, I wonder?) Hmm... I'm going to have to check out your stories; I haven't been of in a while!
ForeverYoung : Well, we get a little bit of Merry in this chapter, but he doesn't become a major player for a bit... but he will complicate things and give everybody much angst.
Laurajslr : Wow! All of your thoughts reflect exactly what I was hoping to convey in this chapter! Thanks for the huge boost of confidence... I'm feeling a bit down in the dumps right now... school. Plus, I despise this chapter with all my heart and soul, but it is important to put it in, in order to make a transition to the better chapters. Oh well.
Goldenleafwriter : Greetings! Thanks for dropping in to leave a review... lately I've been having trouble getting new people to start reading... and such a lovely review! Yes, angst does stir up a lot of emotions, and that's why I like to write it... I think that a good story should make you feel deep emotions for the characters. I am glad I have succeeded in doing that!
Skye12: Hey! I thought you had died; you hadn't updated or reviewed for a while... sounds like somebody I know... :P... Things will never be the same for Frodo, that is true, but the point that I was trying to make in the last chapter is that there is hope for him to regain control of himself, it is just a matter of gaining enough to strength to fight for his will. There is certainly a good chance that he will begin to fight back.
Chapter 11: Plotting the Course of Action
Gandalf was the sort of person one could always depend upon to have a plan. He seemed to understand things that others could little comprehend. The wizard was, perhaps, the only one who could see or guess at the inner workings of the dark lord's mind, and he always seemed to give a deep perspective to the meanings behind the courses of events and such things that a mortal could not even begin to fathom. But happenings were now turning in such a way that Gandalf was left unusually uncertain. Never had he been dealt a situation with such conflict between things that he held dear; never had he used one of his dearest friends and had it turn so ill.
Gandalf examined the problem, turning it over and over in his mind, trying to find a perspective that would somehow reveal a solution. The wizard began searching fervently through the pages of history preserved in his thoughts, trying to find any situation to mirror the conundrum they were trapped within. The tale of Isildur, to some extent, was a like circumstance. The son of the king had been a hero, a man who had, with naught but a shattered sword, driven Sauron back into the shadows of the world. And yet, soon after, he had committed the most wicked of deeds in claiming the enemy's ring! Had Elrond only killed Isildur and destroyed the ring, Gandalf would not be hunched over in worry at present. It was clear, so terribly clear, that Frodo should die for his crimes. Already, so much innocent blood had been spilt, and Gandalf dared not think what sort of cruel things the hobbit was doing to young Samwise. The old conjuror was the leader of what little resistance was left to the dark lord's dominion, and he could not afford to wallow in grief. And yet, whenever he pictured the faces of the hobbits as they had been in the long ago days of the Shire, his heart panged with unspoken grief.
It had been years since Frodo had first claimed the ring, and each of the four halflings had undergone his own personal tragedy. Pippin was dead, lying beneath a willow on the grounds of Minas Tirith. Aragorn had promised Merry that a statue would be carved in honor of his friend, but in the current crisis, such things could not be seen to. Merry, the one hobbit who should have been himself, was far from the witty creature he once had been. Instead, all of his thoughts were dark, and he harbored wicked plots of revenge, all gruesome. Gandalf had warned him that Frodo's death would probably be nessasary, but that Merry should divert his thoughts from such evil things until his wrath was needed. Meriadoc was clearly pained by the sort of creature he had become, but still did not show any signs of letting go of his hate. Often men would discuss plans of how to storm the fortress of Baradur, and many times the hobbit would insist that he be allowed to personally kill Frodo. Frodo, of course, had become a puppet of Sauron's, and Gandalf would often try to point out to Merry that his old cousin probably had no control over his actions and should not be blamed for all the destruction, but he could hardly blame the halfling for not caring. The last hobbit was Sam. The wizard was often pained to see that his fate mattered so little to the other captains. Samwise was the plaything of Sauron, and Gandalf felt undeniably responsible for every tragedy that had befallen the simple, innocent gardener. Thusly, he often reminded the council, which consisted of nearly forty top military men, that they should at least attempt to figure in a rescue for the helpless hobbit. To his chagrin, Gandalf received very little support for this idea; only Aragorn, Faramir, Legolas, and Eowyn ever agreed with his proposal. The people of Gondor had suffered terribly since Frodo had claimed the enemy's ring, and they were not inclined to go out of there way to bring aid to the one who had failed to stop his plans. Rumors had circulated amoungst the peasants that Sam was actually the dark lord's lackey, and had helped Frodo with his plans. These accusations astounded Gandalf, but he could do little to convince those gullible fools that they were dishonoring a hero.
After nearly a decade of defense against Sauron's forces, the Captains of the West had finally gathered enough men to launch an assault upon the enemy's stronghold. This would be their final chance to turn the tide, or the world would be crushed beneath a wave of darkness. There was little hope in a military victory, for their forces would be outnumbered two to one. However, Gandalf had finally conceived a plan.
That was why he was sitting in a chamber, lit only in the wavering glow of torches mounted upon the walls. Gandalf was awaiting Aragorn, Legolas, Faramir, and Eowyn, his most trusted companions, and was examining, one last time, his plot to overthrow the enemy. No matter from which angle the wizened Gandalf looked at his scenario, it was always clear that Frodo's death would be essencial. Then why was his heart quivering with such dread?
"Mithrandir?" Gandalf looked up, slightly startled, but smiled at the sight of Eowyn. Since they had first met, years of war had weathered her face slightly. She was still beautiful, and would be so even if she lived to see a hundred years, but her skin was worn and lacked its youthful luster. Alike in this loss was her spirit. As a young maiden, she had hungered for battle and glory, but such things seemed less desirable when she was a wife and a mother, and her services were called upon when all she longed for was peace. Gandalf had been loath to allow her to fight, especially when her burning thirst for enemy blood had been quenched. However, times were such that skilled and charismatic leaders were rarely found, and the shield maiden was well-loved by all the men. Eowyn was needed by her people, and it was decided that she should help lead them in battle. Now, bathed in the soft luminescence of the torchlight, she looked as an Elven-warrior, ageless and glorious, withstanding time with a fiery grace. In the half-light the soft lines about her eyes were hidden, as was the slight furrow in her brow that came with all the cares of her strange life. She was a shield maiden to both her people and her children, but tonight, she looked as she did when the inner fire of her spirit had been kindled long ago, when the labors of the old wizard had not been so afflicting. Remembering those days of a bygone era, Gandalf smiled for the first time in what felt like a life-age of the Earth.
At Eowyn's side was her husband, Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor and the dearest friend of King Elessar. He looked very much the same; those past seven years had failed to age him visibly, for he had been living under the constant threat of war and in the heat of battle for almost all of his life, and was used to the strain that came with constantly keeping death at bay.
Behind the couple came Legolas. Of course, he also did not change visibly, for he was an elf, and aged only in spirit. Gandalf knew that the years had been hard on Legolas, although it was sometimes hard to tell for those who did not know him. Unlike Merry, Legolas did not wear his emotions on his sleeve. But the wizard could tell that he had lost his former innocence, an innocence that had amazed Gandalf when he had first met the elf, given his age. But the elf was young by the reckoning of his people, and he had been raised in a land where death was a thing not clearly understood and rarely seen. Suddenly, Legolas had been made a key figure in a raging war, and death was all about him, clouding his senses! Concerning the topic of death, Legolas had been almost a child in his understanding of it, and now, seven years later, he was a hardened warrior who had seen many of his friends perish to the enemy's blade.
And, lastly, there came Aragorn, the leader of the failing race of men, and the last hope for the free peoples of Middle Earth. Had he changed? Gandalf did not know. Whatever reluctance there was, on his part, to embrace his role as Isildur's heir had vanished long before Frodo's betrayal. Perhaps, to some, it might have seemed that he had become a better leader, or warrior, but Gandalf did not think it so. The wizard was one of the few persons who had known him his whole life, and knew all of his secrets. In Gandalf's mind, Aragorn had always possessed these excellent qualities, but had just not been able to display them in full. Even the question about allowing Frodo to live was not new to him, although it still caused him much grief. Strider, as the hobbits had often called him, had confided to Gandalf, in the House of Elrond, that he had been ready through their entire journey from Bree to kill Frodo if he was made into a wraith. Gandalf, battle-hardened as he was, was shocked at Aragorn's resolve in this matter. Seeing his old friend, Gandalf smiled again. One thing was certain; he, Gandalf, was no longer the sole leader of Middle Earth, even behind the scenes, so to speak. It was reassuring to know that he was no longer the one that would always be looked to when disaster struck. The wizard would be there to help Aragorn, of course, and give his opinions, but he finally had someone that he could truly look to as an equal, and someone to share his burdens with. And, if his task was ever finished, Gandalf could entrust his old friend with Middle Earth without any doubt that the world would be safe.
But, mused Gandalf, he was getting rather ahead of himself. His task would not be complete for a long time, even if their plans were executed with flawless deftness. Although he would not admit it to his comrades, save for Aragorn, Gandalf doubted the plausibility of their scheme. He had examined every nuance of it time and again, and found no flaws, but it still seemed too simple for the wizard's liking. And by the somber look struck upon Faramir's visage, it seemed that he would be having more problems.
"Mithrandir," spoke Faramir slowly, barely keeping latent the pain behind his voice, "In our last meeting, I had reluctantly agreed to allowing my wife to take part in this plot of yours. However, I now must insist that you change these plans; Eowyn is with child, so you must understand that under these circumstances her participation would be simply inconceivable!"
Gandalf bowed his head in frustration. "Faramir, I must ask you, and I demand honesty, would this really inhibit Eowyn's ability to perform her task? We will lay siege to Barradur in less than a week. Your wife is not heavy with child now, and I doubt a week's time will make much of a difference."
The sour expression that crossed Faramir's face answered all of Gandalf's queries. "I did not want to allow Eowyn to put herself in harm's way in the first place, but I will not allow both my wife and my child to be put at risk. Perhaps, if you had ever loved someone, you would understand my pain! But you are only a great manipulator, always calculating but never caring."
Aragorn held out his hand to silence Faramir, but the damage had been done. Gandalf rose, not furious, but, in a way, hurt. "I have loved more deeply than you could ever dream! I have been chosen to care for every being on this world, not favoring one over the other. I have walked this Earth for three hundred lives of men, and many of my dearest companions have come and gone. Do not think that I share not in your Earthly sorrows. But with these years I have also attained much wisdom. You would have me save the lives of your wife and child, but you would also have me condemn countless innocents to perish! How many widows, Faramir, whose love for their family was no less than yours, would be forced to live alone for the rest of their mundane lives, while you had the luxury of having yours always protected and care for. Where is your sense of justice? Have you allowed it to be clouded with your own selfish wants?"
Faramir cast his eyes to the ground in shame, but he could not stop on last question from escaping his lips. "Why my Eowyn? Why must she be chosen for this task?"
Gandalf shook his head and through his hands in the air, for they had debated this many times before. Aragorn, sensing that Gandalf's tolerance was running thin, answered him. "You know, of course, that a victory of our army would be nothing short of miraculous, so we must have someone kill Frodo. If he dies, the result will be much as it was three thousand years ago, when Isildur cut the ring from Sauron's hand. His armies will fall easily, and time will be bought for us to again attempt to destroy his ring. However, we cannot hope for him to show himself on the field of battle as he once did, for Frodo's form is not well suited for combat. So, we must send assassins into his abode, using the Pass of Cirith Ungol, which will not be heavily watched while all the armies are away doing battle."
"What of Shelob?" asked Faramir.
Gandalf chose to answer this time. "That is another reason why I have called you together this night. Shelob has been slain. She had already been weakened when Samwise set his blade to her flesh," (he paused at this point, and breathed in, with a look on his face that faintly resembled pride) "and our scouts were able to rid the world of this monstrous creature. So Legolas and Eowyn will be able to (if not caught) kill Frodo without trouble. However, we must not underestimate the Dark Lord; chances are that they will be caught. If this happens, Legolas will have to struggle, while Eowyn will feign great fear, and drop her sword. Both Aragorn and I agree that it will not have occurred to the Dark Lord to search her further, for he has always miscalculated when it comes to the strength of women. She will have a dagger hidden in her sleeve, placed where she can reach it when her hands are bound. When they are taken to Frodo, she will cut her bonds and kill him. So you can see, Faramir, that we need a woman for this job, and Eowyn is the only person I would trust with such a mission."
Faramir nodded, but his expression showed that he still did not agree. Eowyn looked at her husband with a fire they had not seen in a long time. "You men-folk are quite a presumptuous lot! You would use me, when I am needed, and debate over my uses as if I could not hear your every word. Never have you inquired as to my thoughts on the matter, but I care not, for I shall disclose them to you in full whether by your wishes or nay. I wish to perform this duty for my world, and for Samwise. You have spoken so highly of this most daring of halflings, and I have come to love him as if I have known him all these seven years. There were, perhaps, other paths we might have taken, but is the only way we could possibly save Sam."
Faramir's expression was now truly clear. "I apologize Eowyn, and Gandalf, I have spoken rashly and unwisely. Shall we now tell the others?"
"No," said Legolas, "we deemed it best if very few knew of this plan. You do know that Merry, if he were aware of our schemes, would insist on taking part."
They all nodded solemnly, and left the chamber, all glad at heart that some clear course of action had been planned.
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Eowyn and Legolas had known that their mission would prove difficult, but now they were beginning to lose all hope. They had entered the fortress with no perspective as to where they were in relation to the prison, where they hoped to find Sam, and, of course, Frodo's private quarters. Unwisely, as it now seemed, they had separated, hoping that one of them would make a discovery. But now, all that Eowyn wished was to find her companion.
Without realizing it, she had begun to panic. The thick walls of the corridors seemed to loom in around her, watching her, crushing her. Eowyn was panting when she turned a corner. To her relief she saw Legolas coming around the bend, and she allowed herself a deep sigh. The elf put his finger to her lips and whispered, "Hush. We would not do well to awaken whatever foul creatures might be lurking here. I have found Frodo's quarters, although he is not there at the moment. However, it is getting late into the night, and I assume that he will be retiring soon enough. We should probably wait for him there."
Eowyn nodded and followed the elf, ashamed at herself for quailing. What had happened to the fearless maiden who had vanquished the Nazgul Lord; the woman who had feared neither death nor pain? To this, Eowyn knew the answer. The lady who had not known love had almost welcomed death, but she was now bound to her husband and her children. The shield maiden now knew true love, and thusly she now knew true fear.
The pair was now outside Frodo's room. Eowyn peaked in stealthily, and saw who her victim would be. He was sprawled out in bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, whimpering in whatever anguished dreams haunted his sleep. The lady felt the blood rush to her face. This was whom they wanted her to kill? This pathetic, childish creature? Gandalf had warned her she might be surprised when she saw him, but nothing could have prepared her for this! Silently repeating his every murderous and treasonous offence in her mind, she reached for her sword and prepared herself for the task at hand.
But as she strode into the room, a shadowy figure emerged from the cloak of night, followed by another, and others after that. Was he always surrounded by guards? wondered Eowyn, as she instinctually raised her sword. But she quickly remembered the role she had to play and dropped her sword with a loud clatter, crying out, "Mercy! Mercy, please!"
Frodo had by now risen from his bad shouting, "The cowards! They dare try to murder me in my slumber? Take the elf to The Chamber without delay; I shall speak to this woman. I shall see if she, in her womanly ambivalence, will agree to aid us." The guards quickly dispersed under his orders, only two remaining to guard their master. The plan was going to work, Eowyn reassured herself.
Frodo picked up her blade from the ground, examining it casually in the lamplight. "This is a lovely blade," he commented lightly, looking at her strangely. "Such a cold, silver beauty. Delicate and deadly... much as thyself," he added sharply.
"No, no!" cried Eowyn desperately, "I aim to hurt you no more. I will serve you in any way you wish, if only you would spare my life!"
"Thou art certainly a faint-hearted woman, art thou not? There are many ways in which I would have thee serve me, although some ways might prove difficult, given our difference in size."
Eowyn slowly felt a flush of humiliation and anger creep into her visage.
"But there is a lie in thy eyes, Eowyn, shield maiden of Rohan. Dost thou believe II do not know the wench who has slain my greatest servant? That I would not see thy blade and recognize it as the token of the woman I have long sought? A dreadful miscalculation on Gandalf's part, for I am sure it was he who sent thee. Take her to the tower, to be with her ill-fated companion!" said he, grabbing Eowyn's arm and yanking the dagger from its hiding place and shoving her away.
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You like? Two more chapters to go, and then we go to Part II! I'm excited, aren't you? Please leave a review!
