Far and Away
Chapter: Seventeen (does anybody know when "Try Seventeen" w/ Elijah Wood and Mandy Moore is coming out?)
Rated: pg-13
Summary: Eowyn deals with the death of an old friend and she must find the strength to be strong. Faramir and his company meet some unexpected creatures (I wonder who).
Eowyn sat still where she had sunk to the ground. Dead? How could Ethel be dead? She was just alive this morning! Eowyn lifted her tear-stained face up and looked at Tarra.
"How can that be? She was fine this morning!"
Tarra knelt down beside her; fresh tears were also upon her cheeks. "My lady, she was old. She simply fell asleep, and didn't wake up." Tarra stroked Eowyn's golden head. "It will be alright, but don't cry in front of everyone. Seek comfort behind closed doors."
Eowyn slowly raised her face. Tarra was only (as I have said before) about ten years older than Eowyn, yet her face was full of wisdom. Eowyn nodded and stood.
She cast a last, thankful glance towards Tarra and then disappeared into her room. Eowyn simply sat rocking herself. Hours passed, yet Eowyn didn't notice.
Leofa quietly came in and sat down by Eowyn. Both were silent for a while until Leofa softly said, "My lady, I am sorry about the loss of your teacher, but you must be strong. You have to be, for yourself, for her, and for the rest of us."
Eowyn lifted her face from her arms and looked at Leofa. The younger patted Eowyn on the shoulder and then stood and left.
Eowyn sat, pondering Leofa's words. She was right. Eowyn rubbed her eyes and stood, brushing her dress off. She would be strong, for her sake, for her people's sake, but she honestly didn't know how long she could hold out. Eowyn sighed. She wished above all else that her Uncle could be there to show her what to do.
But he wasn't here, and she was all on her own. Eowyn took a deep breath and held her head high. She would do this nobly, and with honor.
"Uncle," she whispered, talking to herself. "How long will you be? How I greatly desire to go into battle, to fight, to die! Is life truly worth living? Whether you die from age or war, you still die. Like my parents died, like Theodred died. But for now I will remain, and I will be strong. I will not fail you."
Eowyn squared her shoulders, and walked back into the hollowed room. Many heads turned when she entered.
"We must make ourselves comfortable," Eowyn said, "for we do not know how much longer we may need the safety of this haven."
After that, everyone began helping out, even the children. Eowyn straightened and wiping away the sweat from her eyes, she looked around. The elderly were helping the younger and in turn, the younger would help the older. They were all coming together, working in unison. Eowyn sighed. If only her heart would be at peace, all would have been well.
~*~
Faramir arrived last of his company in the safety of Henneth Annun. His men were preparing to sleep and others were setting watches.
Damrod came up to Faramir. "My Captain, watches have been set. All is well."
Faramir clasped Damrod's shoulder. "Thank you, Damrod. You may retire for the night."
Damrod nodded and went to get rest.
Faramir stayed up though, and wandered the haven. The solid stonewalls provided a warm, dry shelter. Men were settling in for a night's sleep, and a few were near the entrances, keeping watches. Their green and dark brown cloaks were drawn around their bodies for warmth.
Faramir pulled him own green cloak around himself and slipped out by the Forbidden Pool. The sound of rushing water became very clear as he came closer to the pool. The path along the pool was mossy and wet. Reeds grew up around the very edges of the water, swaying with the breeze. Faramir sat on a dry stone and finding a comfortable position, settled in.
He could faintly hear the quiet whispers of the watches, the water breaking almost silently against the stones, and the soft humming of insects. Faramir drew in a deep breath.
This is where he was comfortable, where he belonged, not in the crowded streets and courts of Gondor. Faramir drifted away, out of his thoughts into sleep.
But it was not a dreamless sleep. It never was anymore. (Nor had it ever been)
He dreamt he was engaged in battle. His men, left and right were dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. Fell riders on winged beasts swept over the battlefield, screeching. The sound was deafening, and sent ice- cold chills up and down his spine.
Faramir mounted his horse and with great speed, raced toward Minas Tirith. The white walls of the city were far off Faramir was beginning to despair.
He felt an arrow pierce him and all went black, yet he could still hear the cries of men. All his senses began to die, until strong arms wrapped around him and carried him.
He kept hearing his father's voice. It was not yelling, nor sounded cruel, but rather sorrowful and weighted with much pain.
Faramir again felt himself begin lifted and the next thing he felt was fire. Faramir could still hear his father's voice but it had changed. It sounded possessed and uncontrollably violent.
The flames were now becoming so hot that it burned Faramir's cheeks. The blaze licked his fingertips, yet he could not move. He could smell flesh beginning to burn, slowly and painfully.
And then, all his senses became dead. Was he dead? Slowly the feeling crept back into his arms and his breath was no longer labored. A delicious smell filled his mind and a rough, but gentle hand rested on his forehead.
Faramir felt a firm wall against his back. The sound of water running out of a fountain sounded and a cool breeze blew. Voices drew near. Faramir's mind wandered. Hadn't he had this last part of his dream before? Yes! The woman. The woman appeared in his mind's eye, fair and beautiful.
Her golden hair fell down her back and a few strands fell in her face. Her eyes were the things that really got to Faramir. They were an endless sea of stormy gray and blue. He could have stared into those eyes forever. She stepped closer and he felt his knees go weak.
My dream lady, you have come to me, he thought.
Suddenly a hand shook him awake, tearing him from his dream. Faramir looked up into Anborn's face.
"My Captain, you must get some sleep somewhere safer. It is already into the second watch of the night." Anborn said. His dark eyes looked questioningly at Faramir. "Are you alright? Why were you resting here?"
Faramir got up reluctantly. "It was peaceful. I must have drifted. Thank you Anborn, you may return to your post."
Anborn saluted and walked back up the hidden path to his post at the entrance of Henneth Annun. Faramir gazed up at the moon. Its round face huge over the treetops. He sighed and running his fingers through his hair, started up the path after Anborn.
~*~
Eomer's eored wearily trudged northward, looking in hope of a place to rest. They had been riding north for many days.
About the time when the sun began to set over the Misty Mountains, they came to a sheltered area of trees. Being careful only to gather firewood from the already dead branches on the ground (for most feared that the Trees would grow angry if they cut one down) and started a fire. They watered their horses and put them on pickets and led ropes.
Eomer volunteered to be the first watch and the others soon settled down to sleep. One man, whose name was Hester (don't get mad at me, I'm not that creative with names), stayed up with Eomer and kept him company. Hester was only 18 and not very educated, but Eomer enjoyed his company. The boy was honest and openly spoke his fears and dreams.
Eomer and Hester talked deep into the night, until Eomer felt a slight trembling under his foot. He instructed Hester to put out the fire and to lie down. Eomer gingerly put his ear to the ground. The sound of horse hoofs drew near, and at a remarkable speed too.
Within a minute, the sound of a galloping horse could be clearly heard. A great horse and a cloaked rider appeared at the top of a hill. The moon shone down upon them and gave Eomer a clear view of them.
The horse was wild and strong, its white body glistening in the moonlight. The rider wore no hat or helmet and his head was white. His cloak was dark gray, but every now and again when he turned, you could see a flash of white.
Eomer pressed himself flat against the ground. "It's Saruman!" he whispered to himself.
The rider dismounted and leaned upon the long, white staff he carried. He was facing the place where the eored was camped, but he didn't move. Instead, he called in a loud voice, "Eomer, Son of Eomund, do not hide yourself."
Eomer froze, not sure what to do. How did Saruman, or whomever it was, know his name? Before Eomer collected all his thoughts, he heard Hester's voice reply.
"Who are you and how do we know you are not a foe?"
Eomer could hear the old man chuckle. "You speak for your captain, young one. But it is not you I wish to have a council with, but your captain. Eomer, as to the boy's question, you do not, and will not know whether I am a foe or not until you chose to trust me, or take up your swords against me."
Eomer thought for half a second and then stood. "I do not know whether you are a friend of mine or not, but my heart tells me to trust you, though I do not know why. Come, and we will see."
The old man came forward and as he approached, he took off his cloak, relieving his white robes. His face was old and familiar.
"Gandalf!" Eomer cried. "If you had only said it was you, I would have welcomed you at once!"
Gandalf laughed again. "But you see, Eomer, it was a test."
"A test! What for?"
"To see if you listened to your head or to your heart. Any practical man would have drawn their sword and then asked questions after I was dead. But you, though aware of the danger, choose to listen to your heart."
Eomer was completely puzzled. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Gandalf patted Eomer's shoulder. "Your mind is very wise when it comes to battle strategy and educated knowledge, but your heart is the best judge of character. Do you understand know?"
"I suppose, Gandalf, but when might I ever been judging someone? It is the King alone who judges over the fate of a man."
Gandalf just winked and then sat down. "Come Eomer, we must talk. The King is at Helm's Deep and he needs your help."
~*~
*Two Days Later
Eowyn walked quickly down the stone hall, following an old man. The hall ended and a stone archway opened into a courtyard, with greenery just beginning to unfold their leaves from their winter's sleep. And there, in the middle, stood a man.
He was tall and his gray eyes immediately fell on her. His brown hair hung in his face, though a breeze blew his locks this way and that. The man took a step forward, closer to her. Eowyn lowered her eyes. Why did he look at her like that? Why-
Eowyn jolted awake. She sat up and leaned against the earthy wall. She had never had that dream before, and yet, there was something familiar about it. Eowyn sighed and pushed her hair from her face.
Two women ran past her bed. Eowyn looked after them curiously. It was still early, and she had no idea what was going on. She rolled out of her cot and gathering her brown cloak, followed them. A growing group of chattering women had gathered at the entrance of the safe haven.
Eowyn pushed her way to the front. "What is going on?" She asked. A woman at her side tugged at her elbow.
"We heard horse's hoofs and someone is up there knocking on the panels."
A sharp knocking noise sounded. Then another. The dull scraping sound was heard as the panel was drawn aside.
Eowyn called out, "Who are you, and how did you know there was a hollow panel?"
"My name is Eothian, and I am a Rohirrim. Let me down in peace, that I may bring a message from the King."
"Come down!" Eowyn opened the wooden door and saw a men climbing down the narrow stairwell. "You are welcome here, Eothian. You were with my brother's eored. What is the King's message?"
"You are Eomer's sister? Then you are the one the message is to. Shall I read it aloud or do you wish to in private?"
"Aloud, I guess. I don't see a reason why it should be private."
All the women eagerly crowded around Eowyn.
Eothian cleared his throat and then read:
My Dear Sister-daughter,
I hope that you and all our people are fairing well. I am sending a messenger at full speed to deliver this to you. You no longer need to hide, though you must still be cautious.
Now then, go to Dunharrow and wait there until we arrive. Set out as soon as possible and we will try to meet you there as quickly as we came, though it may take about three days.
You have all my love,
Theoden
Eowyn nodded. She thanked Eothian and then turning to the women that surrounded her, she said, "We must leave as soon as possible. Pack only what is necessary, but pack enough. We will travel light and quickly."
The women scattered in all direction. They woke their children and their old men to help with the preparations.
Eowyn fastened her cloak around her neck and then gathered the rest of her clothes, a blanket or two and a few apples into a basket that she hung on her back.
Within two hours, around eighty Rohirrim were on their way to Dunharrow. They were all glad to be outside in the golden fields. They didn't notice the dimness of the sun because they had been underground for so long.
Eowyn turned and looked back over the line of people following her. Beyond them rose Edoras, glimmering dimly in the clouded sunlight. Eowyn looked at it sadly and then walked away.
~*~
Faramir crept quickly through the underbrush. A scout had seen smoke rising from the northwest. His company had journeyed cautiously to that spot.
Faramir could smell something that was cooking over the fire. Damrod went ahead, and seeing no sign of trouble, whistled. Faramir whistled back and then three other men sneaked over to where Damrod was. Faramir saw two small creatures hurriedly crawl into the fern that surrounded the small clearing where the fire had just been put out.
"Here," Damrod said in an excited whisper. "Here is where the smoke came from! The creatures are near at hand, probably in the fern, no doubt. We will have it like a coney in a trap! Then we shall earn what kind of thing it is."
"Ay, and what it may know!" Anborn said.
Faramir shushed them and the four of them walked into the clearing. Faramir kept his eye on the spot where the creatures can taken cover. Sure enough, they appeared back-to-back, with small swords drawn.
They stared at Anborn and Mablung's spears and Faramir and Damrod's bows. Mablung had seized his sword hilt when he was the dark haired creature's shining sword.
"We have not found what we sought, but what have we found?" Damrod asked.
"Not Orcs." Mablung released his grip on his sword.
"Elves?" guessed Anborn.
Faramir half laughed. Anborn was the youngest and least educated. Everyone knew that Elves were tall, beautiful beings. "No, not Elves," Faramir said, "Elves don't walk in Ithilien any more. And they are wondrous to look upon, or so I've heard."
"Meaning we're not then," said the light brown haired one. "Well, thank you, but when you're finished discussing us, maybe you'll be so kind as to tell us who you are and why you won't let two tired travelers rest!"
Faramir laughed and then said, "I am Faramir, Captain of Gondor. But there are no travelers in this land. Only that of the Dark Tower or of the White."
"But we are neither!" said the dark haired one. "And we are really travelers, what you may say."
"Then declare yourself and your errand. We have much work to do and this is no time for riddles. Come, where is the third of your company?"
"The third?"
Faramir shifted. "Yes, a skulking fellow we saw. He gave me an ill-favored look. What do you have to say of him?"
The small creature looked nervously at his companion who shrugged. "He is our guide. I am not answerable for him. But spare him if you find him, for he is under my care for the time being. But we are Hobbits of the Shire. I am Frodo, son of Drogo, and this is Samwise, son of Hamfast-"
"Your bodyguard?" Faramir asked with a amused grin.
"His gardener," said Sam, crossing his arms and rising his head high in pride.
"Anyway," Frodo said, "We came by long ways, from Rivendell, or Imladris, as some call it." Faramir's head jerked up and he listened intently. "We had seven companions. One we lost in Moria, the others we left at Parth Galen. Two were my kin, a dwarf, an Elf, and two men. One of the men was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and the other, Boromir who said he was from Minas Tirith."
"Boromir," all the men said in unison.
"Yes, Boromir, the son of the Lord Denethor. Do you know him?" Frodo tilted his head slightly and looked at Faramir.
"Boromir?" Faramir gazed keenly at Frodo. "You came with him? Well, he was the Warden of the White Tower and our Captain-General. His people dearly miss him. But we have work to do. Mablung and Damrod will watch over you." Faramir turned to Damrod. "Escort them to the Haven."
Damrod nodded. "We will sir."
Faramir sighed and clasped Damrod's shoulder. "Stay sharp and focused. We will return by night fall."
~*~
Damrod leaned against a nearby tree. Mablung sat in the shade, watching the Hobbits.
They were such curious creatures, so child-like. The dark haired one, Frodo, could actually communicate with them when they spoke a type of Elvish that they had been taught when they were younger.
Not much else had been said though, and everyone had elapsed into silence.
Battle noises could be heard and shouts erupted from the north. An oliphant had come quite close to where they were stayed. Samwise had been in complete awe. But a series of whistles had sounded and they had gotten the Hobbits up and started through the woods, blind folded.
Soon they arrived at Henneth Annun and settled in before the Rangers got back.
NEXT CHAPTER: Eowyn and the Rohirrim arrive at Dunharrow. Faramir questions Frodo's traveling in Ithilien. Aragorn chooses the Paths of the Dead.
NOTE:
Ya'll, I am so sorry that it took me so long to post this! (It's long though) I could really use any suggestions that you guys may have so that I won't have writer's block (not that I don't already have it) well, anyways. Give me suggestions in your reviews of what you want to see and I'll try to update faster! So REVIEW!
*I couldn't think of a good way to tell Eowyn to get everyone up to Dunharrow, so I made it up. Its bad, but it's the best I could think up. Sorry.
Chapter: Seventeen (does anybody know when "Try Seventeen" w/ Elijah Wood and Mandy Moore is coming out?)
Rated: pg-13
Summary: Eowyn deals with the death of an old friend and she must find the strength to be strong. Faramir and his company meet some unexpected creatures (I wonder who).
Eowyn sat still where she had sunk to the ground. Dead? How could Ethel be dead? She was just alive this morning! Eowyn lifted her tear-stained face up and looked at Tarra.
"How can that be? She was fine this morning!"
Tarra knelt down beside her; fresh tears were also upon her cheeks. "My lady, she was old. She simply fell asleep, and didn't wake up." Tarra stroked Eowyn's golden head. "It will be alright, but don't cry in front of everyone. Seek comfort behind closed doors."
Eowyn slowly raised her face. Tarra was only (as I have said before) about ten years older than Eowyn, yet her face was full of wisdom. Eowyn nodded and stood.
She cast a last, thankful glance towards Tarra and then disappeared into her room. Eowyn simply sat rocking herself. Hours passed, yet Eowyn didn't notice.
Leofa quietly came in and sat down by Eowyn. Both were silent for a while until Leofa softly said, "My lady, I am sorry about the loss of your teacher, but you must be strong. You have to be, for yourself, for her, and for the rest of us."
Eowyn lifted her face from her arms and looked at Leofa. The younger patted Eowyn on the shoulder and then stood and left.
Eowyn sat, pondering Leofa's words. She was right. Eowyn rubbed her eyes and stood, brushing her dress off. She would be strong, for her sake, for her people's sake, but she honestly didn't know how long she could hold out. Eowyn sighed. She wished above all else that her Uncle could be there to show her what to do.
But he wasn't here, and she was all on her own. Eowyn took a deep breath and held her head high. She would do this nobly, and with honor.
"Uncle," she whispered, talking to herself. "How long will you be? How I greatly desire to go into battle, to fight, to die! Is life truly worth living? Whether you die from age or war, you still die. Like my parents died, like Theodred died. But for now I will remain, and I will be strong. I will not fail you."
Eowyn squared her shoulders, and walked back into the hollowed room. Many heads turned when she entered.
"We must make ourselves comfortable," Eowyn said, "for we do not know how much longer we may need the safety of this haven."
After that, everyone began helping out, even the children. Eowyn straightened and wiping away the sweat from her eyes, she looked around. The elderly were helping the younger and in turn, the younger would help the older. They were all coming together, working in unison. Eowyn sighed. If only her heart would be at peace, all would have been well.
~*~
Faramir arrived last of his company in the safety of Henneth Annun. His men were preparing to sleep and others were setting watches.
Damrod came up to Faramir. "My Captain, watches have been set. All is well."
Faramir clasped Damrod's shoulder. "Thank you, Damrod. You may retire for the night."
Damrod nodded and went to get rest.
Faramir stayed up though, and wandered the haven. The solid stonewalls provided a warm, dry shelter. Men were settling in for a night's sleep, and a few were near the entrances, keeping watches. Their green and dark brown cloaks were drawn around their bodies for warmth.
Faramir pulled him own green cloak around himself and slipped out by the Forbidden Pool. The sound of rushing water became very clear as he came closer to the pool. The path along the pool was mossy and wet. Reeds grew up around the very edges of the water, swaying with the breeze. Faramir sat on a dry stone and finding a comfortable position, settled in.
He could faintly hear the quiet whispers of the watches, the water breaking almost silently against the stones, and the soft humming of insects. Faramir drew in a deep breath.
This is where he was comfortable, where he belonged, not in the crowded streets and courts of Gondor. Faramir drifted away, out of his thoughts into sleep.
But it was not a dreamless sleep. It never was anymore. (Nor had it ever been)
He dreamt he was engaged in battle. His men, left and right were dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. Fell riders on winged beasts swept over the battlefield, screeching. The sound was deafening, and sent ice- cold chills up and down his spine.
Faramir mounted his horse and with great speed, raced toward Minas Tirith. The white walls of the city were far off Faramir was beginning to despair.
He felt an arrow pierce him and all went black, yet he could still hear the cries of men. All his senses began to die, until strong arms wrapped around him and carried him.
He kept hearing his father's voice. It was not yelling, nor sounded cruel, but rather sorrowful and weighted with much pain.
Faramir again felt himself begin lifted and the next thing he felt was fire. Faramir could still hear his father's voice but it had changed. It sounded possessed and uncontrollably violent.
The flames were now becoming so hot that it burned Faramir's cheeks. The blaze licked his fingertips, yet he could not move. He could smell flesh beginning to burn, slowly and painfully.
And then, all his senses became dead. Was he dead? Slowly the feeling crept back into his arms and his breath was no longer labored. A delicious smell filled his mind and a rough, but gentle hand rested on his forehead.
Faramir felt a firm wall against his back. The sound of water running out of a fountain sounded and a cool breeze blew. Voices drew near. Faramir's mind wandered. Hadn't he had this last part of his dream before? Yes! The woman. The woman appeared in his mind's eye, fair and beautiful.
Her golden hair fell down her back and a few strands fell in her face. Her eyes were the things that really got to Faramir. They were an endless sea of stormy gray and blue. He could have stared into those eyes forever. She stepped closer and he felt his knees go weak.
My dream lady, you have come to me, he thought.
Suddenly a hand shook him awake, tearing him from his dream. Faramir looked up into Anborn's face.
"My Captain, you must get some sleep somewhere safer. It is already into the second watch of the night." Anborn said. His dark eyes looked questioningly at Faramir. "Are you alright? Why were you resting here?"
Faramir got up reluctantly. "It was peaceful. I must have drifted. Thank you Anborn, you may return to your post."
Anborn saluted and walked back up the hidden path to his post at the entrance of Henneth Annun. Faramir gazed up at the moon. Its round face huge over the treetops. He sighed and running his fingers through his hair, started up the path after Anborn.
~*~
Eomer's eored wearily trudged northward, looking in hope of a place to rest. They had been riding north for many days.
About the time when the sun began to set over the Misty Mountains, they came to a sheltered area of trees. Being careful only to gather firewood from the already dead branches on the ground (for most feared that the Trees would grow angry if they cut one down) and started a fire. They watered their horses and put them on pickets and led ropes.
Eomer volunteered to be the first watch and the others soon settled down to sleep. One man, whose name was Hester (don't get mad at me, I'm not that creative with names), stayed up with Eomer and kept him company. Hester was only 18 and not very educated, but Eomer enjoyed his company. The boy was honest and openly spoke his fears and dreams.
Eomer and Hester talked deep into the night, until Eomer felt a slight trembling under his foot. He instructed Hester to put out the fire and to lie down. Eomer gingerly put his ear to the ground. The sound of horse hoofs drew near, and at a remarkable speed too.
Within a minute, the sound of a galloping horse could be clearly heard. A great horse and a cloaked rider appeared at the top of a hill. The moon shone down upon them and gave Eomer a clear view of them.
The horse was wild and strong, its white body glistening in the moonlight. The rider wore no hat or helmet and his head was white. His cloak was dark gray, but every now and again when he turned, you could see a flash of white.
Eomer pressed himself flat against the ground. "It's Saruman!" he whispered to himself.
The rider dismounted and leaned upon the long, white staff he carried. He was facing the place where the eored was camped, but he didn't move. Instead, he called in a loud voice, "Eomer, Son of Eomund, do not hide yourself."
Eomer froze, not sure what to do. How did Saruman, or whomever it was, know his name? Before Eomer collected all his thoughts, he heard Hester's voice reply.
"Who are you and how do we know you are not a foe?"
Eomer could hear the old man chuckle. "You speak for your captain, young one. But it is not you I wish to have a council with, but your captain. Eomer, as to the boy's question, you do not, and will not know whether I am a foe or not until you chose to trust me, or take up your swords against me."
Eomer thought for half a second and then stood. "I do not know whether you are a friend of mine or not, but my heart tells me to trust you, though I do not know why. Come, and we will see."
The old man came forward and as he approached, he took off his cloak, relieving his white robes. His face was old and familiar.
"Gandalf!" Eomer cried. "If you had only said it was you, I would have welcomed you at once!"
Gandalf laughed again. "But you see, Eomer, it was a test."
"A test! What for?"
"To see if you listened to your head or to your heart. Any practical man would have drawn their sword and then asked questions after I was dead. But you, though aware of the danger, choose to listen to your heart."
Eomer was completely puzzled. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Gandalf patted Eomer's shoulder. "Your mind is very wise when it comes to battle strategy and educated knowledge, but your heart is the best judge of character. Do you understand know?"
"I suppose, Gandalf, but when might I ever been judging someone? It is the King alone who judges over the fate of a man."
Gandalf just winked and then sat down. "Come Eomer, we must talk. The King is at Helm's Deep and he needs your help."
~*~
*Two Days Later
Eowyn walked quickly down the stone hall, following an old man. The hall ended and a stone archway opened into a courtyard, with greenery just beginning to unfold their leaves from their winter's sleep. And there, in the middle, stood a man.
He was tall and his gray eyes immediately fell on her. His brown hair hung in his face, though a breeze blew his locks this way and that. The man took a step forward, closer to her. Eowyn lowered her eyes. Why did he look at her like that? Why-
Eowyn jolted awake. She sat up and leaned against the earthy wall. She had never had that dream before, and yet, there was something familiar about it. Eowyn sighed and pushed her hair from her face.
Two women ran past her bed. Eowyn looked after them curiously. It was still early, and she had no idea what was going on. She rolled out of her cot and gathering her brown cloak, followed them. A growing group of chattering women had gathered at the entrance of the safe haven.
Eowyn pushed her way to the front. "What is going on?" She asked. A woman at her side tugged at her elbow.
"We heard horse's hoofs and someone is up there knocking on the panels."
A sharp knocking noise sounded. Then another. The dull scraping sound was heard as the panel was drawn aside.
Eowyn called out, "Who are you, and how did you know there was a hollow panel?"
"My name is Eothian, and I am a Rohirrim. Let me down in peace, that I may bring a message from the King."
"Come down!" Eowyn opened the wooden door and saw a men climbing down the narrow stairwell. "You are welcome here, Eothian. You were with my brother's eored. What is the King's message?"
"You are Eomer's sister? Then you are the one the message is to. Shall I read it aloud or do you wish to in private?"
"Aloud, I guess. I don't see a reason why it should be private."
All the women eagerly crowded around Eowyn.
Eothian cleared his throat and then read:
My Dear Sister-daughter,
I hope that you and all our people are fairing well. I am sending a messenger at full speed to deliver this to you. You no longer need to hide, though you must still be cautious.
Now then, go to Dunharrow and wait there until we arrive. Set out as soon as possible and we will try to meet you there as quickly as we came, though it may take about three days.
You have all my love,
Theoden
Eowyn nodded. She thanked Eothian and then turning to the women that surrounded her, she said, "We must leave as soon as possible. Pack only what is necessary, but pack enough. We will travel light and quickly."
The women scattered in all direction. They woke their children and their old men to help with the preparations.
Eowyn fastened her cloak around her neck and then gathered the rest of her clothes, a blanket or two and a few apples into a basket that she hung on her back.
Within two hours, around eighty Rohirrim were on their way to Dunharrow. They were all glad to be outside in the golden fields. They didn't notice the dimness of the sun because they had been underground for so long.
Eowyn turned and looked back over the line of people following her. Beyond them rose Edoras, glimmering dimly in the clouded sunlight. Eowyn looked at it sadly and then walked away.
~*~
Faramir crept quickly through the underbrush. A scout had seen smoke rising from the northwest. His company had journeyed cautiously to that spot.
Faramir could smell something that was cooking over the fire. Damrod went ahead, and seeing no sign of trouble, whistled. Faramir whistled back and then three other men sneaked over to where Damrod was. Faramir saw two small creatures hurriedly crawl into the fern that surrounded the small clearing where the fire had just been put out.
"Here," Damrod said in an excited whisper. "Here is where the smoke came from! The creatures are near at hand, probably in the fern, no doubt. We will have it like a coney in a trap! Then we shall earn what kind of thing it is."
"Ay, and what it may know!" Anborn said.
Faramir shushed them and the four of them walked into the clearing. Faramir kept his eye on the spot where the creatures can taken cover. Sure enough, they appeared back-to-back, with small swords drawn.
They stared at Anborn and Mablung's spears and Faramir and Damrod's bows. Mablung had seized his sword hilt when he was the dark haired creature's shining sword.
"We have not found what we sought, but what have we found?" Damrod asked.
"Not Orcs." Mablung released his grip on his sword.
"Elves?" guessed Anborn.
Faramir half laughed. Anborn was the youngest and least educated. Everyone knew that Elves were tall, beautiful beings. "No, not Elves," Faramir said, "Elves don't walk in Ithilien any more. And they are wondrous to look upon, or so I've heard."
"Meaning we're not then," said the light brown haired one. "Well, thank you, but when you're finished discussing us, maybe you'll be so kind as to tell us who you are and why you won't let two tired travelers rest!"
Faramir laughed and then said, "I am Faramir, Captain of Gondor. But there are no travelers in this land. Only that of the Dark Tower or of the White."
"But we are neither!" said the dark haired one. "And we are really travelers, what you may say."
"Then declare yourself and your errand. We have much work to do and this is no time for riddles. Come, where is the third of your company?"
"The third?"
Faramir shifted. "Yes, a skulking fellow we saw. He gave me an ill-favored look. What do you have to say of him?"
The small creature looked nervously at his companion who shrugged. "He is our guide. I am not answerable for him. But spare him if you find him, for he is under my care for the time being. But we are Hobbits of the Shire. I am Frodo, son of Drogo, and this is Samwise, son of Hamfast-"
"Your bodyguard?" Faramir asked with a amused grin.
"His gardener," said Sam, crossing his arms and rising his head high in pride.
"Anyway," Frodo said, "We came by long ways, from Rivendell, or Imladris, as some call it." Faramir's head jerked up and he listened intently. "We had seven companions. One we lost in Moria, the others we left at Parth Galen. Two were my kin, a dwarf, an Elf, and two men. One of the men was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and the other, Boromir who said he was from Minas Tirith."
"Boromir," all the men said in unison.
"Yes, Boromir, the son of the Lord Denethor. Do you know him?" Frodo tilted his head slightly and looked at Faramir.
"Boromir?" Faramir gazed keenly at Frodo. "You came with him? Well, he was the Warden of the White Tower and our Captain-General. His people dearly miss him. But we have work to do. Mablung and Damrod will watch over you." Faramir turned to Damrod. "Escort them to the Haven."
Damrod nodded. "We will sir."
Faramir sighed and clasped Damrod's shoulder. "Stay sharp and focused. We will return by night fall."
~*~
Damrod leaned against a nearby tree. Mablung sat in the shade, watching the Hobbits.
They were such curious creatures, so child-like. The dark haired one, Frodo, could actually communicate with them when they spoke a type of Elvish that they had been taught when they were younger.
Not much else had been said though, and everyone had elapsed into silence.
Battle noises could be heard and shouts erupted from the north. An oliphant had come quite close to where they were stayed. Samwise had been in complete awe. But a series of whistles had sounded and they had gotten the Hobbits up and started through the woods, blind folded.
Soon they arrived at Henneth Annun and settled in before the Rangers got back.
NEXT CHAPTER: Eowyn and the Rohirrim arrive at Dunharrow. Faramir questions Frodo's traveling in Ithilien. Aragorn chooses the Paths of the Dead.
NOTE:
Ya'll, I am so sorry that it took me so long to post this! (It's long though) I could really use any suggestions that you guys may have so that I won't have writer's block (not that I don't already have it) well, anyways. Give me suggestions in your reviews of what you want to see and I'll try to update faster! So REVIEW!
*I couldn't think of a good way to tell Eowyn to get everyone up to Dunharrow, so I made it up. Its bad, but it's the best I could think up. Sorry.