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Chapter 5
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There was a strike across her face, "What are you thinking?! I thought I hired the best!" The cloaked man yelled.
She was confused. How could she do this? She came to kill him not to become...friends. "Nioh, I will do the job."
They both stood face to face. The night covered his body but his cloak was lightened by the moonlight, "When morning reaches, there will be king?"
"I took you, I will kill him!"
"Good, now get up!"
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Miyon awoke as her body turned around from the bed to the floor. She laid there, ignoring the pain and her face expressionless. "What am I going to do?" She whispered as her new bedroom stopped spinning in the warm night.
Then she sat up, her knees moving to her chest and her chin on her knees. The assassin looked at the knife on the nearby table that gleamed by the moonlight. Tonight is the night he must go....
She really needed the money. How else could she survive? There were too many debts that needed to be paid. Miyon continued to stare at the weapon. She couldn't do it. The best killing machine had feelings, now? ...but he was so kind. A father, my father. NO! I have no father, nor a mother, anymore! Anger grew inside her. To be loved was all she wanted and she never received that. Miyon screamed as she lunged for the knife. Niohl, your wish will be commanded.
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Faramir decided to call it a night. It was far too late, and he needed to rest. Hours upon hours he looked at that evidence. It is right here! Screaming for me to know! Who are you?!
Then, he gave one last stretch in his chair before moving to his chamber. He looked around his office and at the bench. It was ruffled from the horseplay the children had done earlier. Yes, Eldarion. He's so much like his father and his mother, especially. He would make a great king when the time will come. Probably marry a maiden knowing him. The Steward chuckled to himself as he grabbed the only lightened candle by the desk. He stumbled out his chair, and eventually slowly strolled to the hallway.
His thoughts carried far, smiling to himself to be with his wife again. He would like to hold her and comfort her after being neglected for two days. She is so beautiful...pretty...pretty? Eldarion, you said the maiden was pretty. Wait, the maiden?!
Faramir stopped cold in his tracks. His heart pounded in his ears in fear of the king. The maiden?! She's the bear! Bear tracks, bear...yes! Aragorn, oh Valar!
"Aragorn!" He cried in the hallway. He hoped it wasn't too late as he ran to the king's chamber.
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There he is sleeping. He looks so calm, just like his friend's uncle. Faramir was it? She tightly held the knife in her shaking fist. A dark cloak covered her nightgown and her hair. A devilish smile emerged on her face as she looked at the scene. Arwen was beside him, her arm wrapped around his waist. They both look at peace. Look at her, her face nuzzled in his neck. What a tragedy this would make her...and to her unborn child. Now, move!
She softly jumped from the window sill to his floor and quickly moved in front of the king.
She stood there as if she had all the time in the world. No one saw her, no one could have. Her hunting skills couldn't match to the keenest ear. A warm breeze blew into the room from the opened window beside them. Her shadow covered Aragorn as he continued to lye in his bed. He truly was at peace.
Miyon gazed at his neck, wondering if she should start there. Then, Arwen slowly stirred in her bed, shifting to make herself comfortable. Thinking something was out there, her eyes opened and saw the killer before her.
The assassin didn't move. They both stared at each other as the girl's throat dried quickly. Now what? Valar, what do I do?
Then, she heard the footsteps. The pounding on the floor matched her heart. Panic came to Miyon as she struggled in her mind. But how? They could not have heard me.
Fear marked Arwen's face. She opened her mouth as a scream filled the room. Aragorn quickly awoke from his upset wife and held her, confused. "Arwen, what is it?" His back was against the killer.
Miyon's smile widened and threw the knife. Her aim was perfect. Arwen screamed louder as she saw the blade cut the air. Then, grabbed her husband and twisted her body around to the front of the killer. It was so fast, it even amazed the assassin. Blood oozed from her side as the weapon injected into her back.
Shouted orders were being carried as Faramir and his soldiers came closer to the door. Time was too short. Miyon's expression grew to shock. Her chance was ruined. Run! The door burst open and Faramir's face matched her's. Four soldier's held there swords high, and jolted to the killer in the dark room.
"Arwen!" Aragorn cried at his wounded wife. The sheets were soaked of her blood when he immediately pulled the knife from her. Tears came to her blue eyes and felt the room spin from losing so much blood. He grabbed a sheet near them, and placed pressure on her wound; he wanted to protect his wife not himself.
Miyon drew her sword from her cloak as the first soldier ran to her. There swords met as two more ran from behind. Faramir, having no weapon, shouted to awake the sleeping night. The killer dodged the sword behind her, and kicked the soldier in front as she swung the blade around her. The window! She glanced at her only escape before she felt her body knocked to the floor. Landing on her back, she recognized the soldier who hit her. The soldier at the tavern! How dare you?! Her foot swung over and kicked the side of his right knee. The weak patting caused a crack in his leg and another scream of pain filled the room.
As Aragorn continued to tend to his weakening wife, he shouted orders at the soldiers. Faramir watched the men go to the commands and struggled to catch the sly girl.
Miyon jumped from the ground and ran towards the window, but was thrown down again. Three swords swung toward her body, only blocking two. The remaining pierced her leg and a cry came from her soft lips. Blood pooled on the floor as she struggled to get up. Faramir stepped on her cloak, making her stop from rising. There is way to many! She untied the strap and the dark cloak fell on the ground as she arose again.
The wounded soldier saw his chance and his blade met her neck. In one quick swift, her head was separated from her fragile body. Both pieces landed on the floor as the room grew silent. The king was saved.
Aragorn looked at his wife as Faramir approached them. Three soldiers kicked the useless body into the hallway as the rest ran to find a healer. Arwen's hand tightly gripped his nightshirt, waiting for the pain to seize.
She said nothing as he looked at her, cradled her, doing everything he can! Mixed feelings was marked on his face as one last tear drained from his wife.
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The King waited inside the House of Healing the following morning. Dry blood was still on his hands as he anxiously paced around the room for hours. The sun shined through the windows, a new happy but saddened feeling was dancing in the air.
"My Lord," A maid suddenly approached him from the quiet room. Aragorn stopped and jumped, nodding for her to continue, "She is well. All is needed is rest."
Aragorn smiled of relief as she left to the door. Not realizing the sudden burst from the door, her nose smashed into the wood when Faramir opened it from the other side, crying of joy to his friend. The woman grabbed her nose, tears swelling in her eyes as well of her small, once perfect nose.
"Milady!" The Steward grabbed her shoulders, "Are you all right?"
She only nodded and slipped from his grasped to the door, not wanting to show the king her tears. Aragorn shook his head as Faramir shrugged, "I didn't mean to hurt her. My King I bear news!"
His smiled widened, "I know, she is well."
"No, something else." The Steward straightened up and tugged his deep blue vest, preparing himself. "The killer is dead, and we have traced back her history to the person who has hired her."
"Please, continue."
"Niohl is all we know of his name. I have a small league to his capture as we speak."
Aragorn's heart lifted more, "Thank you, Faramir."
He continued to smile, "...And what I heard from the healers...you will be a father again."
The King let out a deep chuckle as he rested a hand on the Steward's shoulder. They both moved to the table as rejoice took their souls. Laughter was heard once more after days of searching, stress leaving the men. The killer's body was burned and forgotten, no one feeling sorry of what happened to her. No one wanted to know of her dark past but of what would've happened in the future of Middle-earth. And that was all that really matters.