An Unexpected Ring
Chapter 4
The Girl in the Fog
Have I ever kept a journal?
That's an odd question to start one on, right? Or, would this be considered a diary? Are they one in the same? Does it matter? I don't know but, regardless, the pen is moving, and my brain is not going to stop while it is.
However, as I pen my thoughts, as confusing as they might be, to this page, I must ask myself a simple question, beyond the first one...
How did I wind up here? Where am I? What is an orc? And why am I so hungry?
I guess I have more than one question to answer.
"Strange things are afoot. The Orcs haven't been pressing as hard against our outer defenses of late," Faramir, the Captain of Ithilien's Rangers, muttered as he leaned against the cave's mouth, gaze fixated on the rolling fog that moved in and out of the wastelands east of the Anduin like a ghostly tide. "I fear what it could mean."
A snort sounded from behind him. Heavy footsteps not befitting a ranger moved to his side. A strong hand clasped his shoulder and gave it a playful shake. Faramir glanced over at his elder brother.
"You worry too much," Boromir said, smiling. He always smiled, even in the face of uncertainty. The confidence Faramir lacked, Boromir had in spades. Although, he was not jealous of his brother. Let him have his bravado. It served him well, and Faramir was glad it did. Military commanders needed charisma.
I would much rather be reading a book.
Boromir sniffed then rolled his shoulders, stretching his powerful arms. He tilted his head to and fro, vertebrae cracking loudly before he uttered a satisfied groan. A smirk tugged on the corner of Faramir's lips.
"Too rugged for you?"
Boromir grinned. "Says the pretty one."
Faramir rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but laugh with his brother. When his laughter faded, he returned his attention to the swirling fog.
"So strange it is. A canvas of uncertainty. So many possibilities are hidden within this morning. Fair things and ill, even between, and all within the shadow of Mordor's black peaks."
"If you dislike it so much, you should come back home for a change," Boromir replied.
Faramir shook his head, which made Boromir frown.
"Father would-"
"Orcs provide a warmer welcome," Faramir grunted, pushing away from the cave wall and snatching his bow and sword from their place beside him. He strapped the blade to his hip and then slung the bow over his shoulder. "Are you coming?"
"For what?"
"It's my turn to scout."
Boromir scoffed. "Your turn?"
Faramir tightened his belt then drew his gray hood over his head, hiding his brown hair. When he glanced at Boromir again, he found his brother throwing his large shield across his back then checking his sword before sheathing it.
"You look nothing like a ranger," Faramir said.
"Just watch me keep up with you, little brother. This may be your domain, but I am still the better fighter." And like that, Boromir dashed into the fog.
Faramir huffed. "Always moving…"
He shook his head and then marched into the fog as well. He eventually caught up to his brother. It was hard to miss him, even in such a dense haze. Boromir cut an imposing figure, which was why he made for a poor ranger yet a great commander. Dashing and inspiring, bold and competent. The qualities of a great warrior and king. Qualities that, according to their father, Faramir lacked.
But I know how to find the orcs before they can find me.
The two brothers followed a winding trail, narrow enough for them to move in a line. Faramir kept his hand near his bow, ready to draw an arrow at a moment's notice. Boromir, meanwhile, had his hand on his sword's pommel. The further from the cave they went, the more cautious their steps became until even Boromir's footfalls were light against the dusty earth.
"We're near where we last tracked a troop two days ago," Faramir whispered.
"Meaning?"
Faramir slid an arrow from his quiver and nocked it against the bowstring. "Be on your guard. They stink more than we do, but they will smell us first."
Boromir nodded. There was no dissent from his older brother. No questions. His sword was drawn and he had shifted his shield to his free arm. Both brothers watched the side of the trail the other was not. Both were ready for anything. The further they moved, the more uneasy Faramir became.
The fog was slowly lifting as a gray sun rose over Mordor's mountains. Soon the full light of day would be upon them. Once that happened, the orcs would be hesitant to strike anything or anyone. They hated the sun. Hated the warmth and light it brought. It brought them great pain. However, Faramir refused to lower his guard. When the sun rose, that's when an orc could become desperate.
Steady now. He exhaled, his ears listening for any strange noise. The distant chirping of morning songbirds had faded completely, leaving only the moaning wind through dead trees. He sniffed. Dampness. It did rain the previous evening.
A twig snapped. Boromir spun to the sound, bringing his shield to bear and pointing the tip of his sword in the direction of the sound. Faramir silently swiveled and didn't even think twice. He let an arrow fly and listened.
No thud of it hitting a tree, but no shriek of it hitting flesh. Did he miss?
A blur of purple barreled into Boromir's shield, taking him to the ground. Faramir's heart lurched to his throat. He moved to draw his knife, only to pause as he realized that the thing that hit Boromir was not an orc. It was far too small to be one. It was a girl with midnight black hair. She wore an indigo coat with golden accents and strange patterns he did not recognize. Her eyes sparkled like emeralds, some of the greenest he had ever seen. The billowing sleeves of her coat swallowed her arms, but Faramir did see she was carrying a book. His brow furrowed.
A lost child? Here?
"In the name of–!" Boromir shoved the girl off of him and scrambled to his feet. He moved to point his blade at his "attacker" only for Faramir to grip his shoulder.
"Easy," Faramir warned.
The girl breathed hard as she rested on her elbows, wide-eyed, staring at the men with a look of confusion and relief. Her gaze darted to the direction she ran from before she quickly scrambled behind Boromir, hiding behind his large frame. Faramir knew that look she had all too well.
"Back to the cave," Faramir whispered.
"Agreed. We should have done that sooner."
They took one step back, and the snarls of orcs greeted them. Faramir whirled, nocking another arrow and firing it into the heart of one as it charged at him through the mists. Boromir roared and cleaved through another that had been trying to sneak up on Faramir's flank. A third orc yipped, swinging at Boromir, only for its jagged blade to bounce off his shield. Its life ended quickly as Boromir slashed through its rusted armor.
"Move!" Boromir barked. He shoved the child forward, keeping her between him and Faramir.
More yips, growls, and snarls chased them. The uneven, gangly footfalls of orcs hammered against the ground. The chase was on. Faramir's heart raced. He twisted mid-run, firing an arrow behind them. He grimaced when he heard a hideous screech.
"Do you think the others hear this racket?" Boromir hollered at him as he kept urging the girl to move faster.
"If they don't I shall be greatly disappointed in them," Faramir replied.
They were not far from the cave now. The other rangers would hear the skirmish and already be armed and ready to fight. Soon the numbers would be to the brother's advantage. They just only had to-
Faramir's eyes bulged as a black club swung at his face. He bent backward and slid beneath it, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow. It hit Boromir instead. Boromir grunted, spat some blood from his lip then snarled. He disarmed the orc with a cleave of his sword.
When Faramir popped up, the girl bounced into his back. She hid behind him, which puzzled Faramir. His back wasn't to the cave.
Orcs encircled them. Faramir gritted his teeth.
I wasn't paying enough attention.
"Well," Boromir wiped a bead of red from his lip, "what now?"
Faramir shrugged. "I suppose this is the part where you save the day and receive all the glory while I happily allow you to. Then I go back to reading a scroll at home."
"Oh, so you're interested in coming home now?"
"Father's company is indeed preferable to this."
An orc charged. Faramir dropped his bow, drew his sword, and ran it through. He twirled and slashed through another. Boromir got to work as well, bashing one with his shield and then cleaving the arms from another. But they kept coming. Somehow, they had stumbled upon an entire company of orcs. No doubt this bunch was looking to ambush the entire group of Rangers. Faramir and Boromir sprung the trap early.
Unfortunately, that was never part of any plan.
Faramir's muscles grew sore and weary, yet he still fought. A black arrow whizzed past his face, nicking his cheek. He hissed as he followed its trajectory, spying a group of orc archers taking aim at him and Boromir.
He swallowed hard. There were simply too many.
"Brother, back to the cave with you! Take the girl!" Boromir barked. "I will hold them off as long as I can!"
"If you think I'm going to let you die here in a glorious battle instead of as an old man upon father's throne, then you are sorely mistaken," Faramir retorted.
"Neither of us will sit upon Father's throne if we both die here," Boromir warned.
"Well, it's a good thing I don't plan on that happening."
"What? Dying?"
"No," Faramir gave Boromir a wry smirk, "sitting on Father's throne."
Boromir's lips parted into a red grin. He chuckled, shook his head, then returned his focus to the enemy encircling them.
Another orc came and fell, followed by two more. Black blood slickened the edge of Faramir's blade. But, for how long could he continue until either it or his body broke? He snarled, knowing the answer.
As long as it takes.
"This one?"
Faramir's ears perked. That voice was small, uncertain, girlish. Their tag-along finally spoke. He glanced at her and saw her flipping through the pages of her book. Shock filled him. Was she trying to read now?
"No, no, wrong incantation. That's meant to turn someone into a frog."
"What?"
"I hear nonsense!" Boromir exclaimed.
"Ah ha!" The girl exclaimed. She pushed past Faramir right as an Orc lunged to run him through. Then, she extended a hand. A flash of golden light erupted in her palm, followed by strange sigils and symbols illuminating the air in front of her. A bolt of jagged light erupted from her hand, spearing the orc as well as three others behind it.
A crack of thunder followed it that nearly deafened Faramir. Crows that had been eagerly watching the bloody affair scattered at the sound. The other orcs in the ambush skidded to a halt, stunned, confused, and even afraid as the girl giggled.
"Yup, that's the right one."
Boromir looked at her wide-eyed. "You did that?"
The girl blinked. "Was I wrong to-"
"Am I telling you to stop?"
"Uh… no?"
"Then hit them again!"
The girl jumped, flipped a page, then gasped. "Oh, oh! This one!"
Faramir's eyes widened when a rope of fire incinerated the next Orc that worked up the courage to charge at them. Its shrieks echoed in his ears, and it was enough to send the others scattering. The fog finally broke then as the sun emerged over Mordor's tall peaks. Faramir uttered a relieved sigh. Safe at last.
"Whew," the girl shook her hand, smoke rising from her fingertips. "That one was a little toasty. I mean, I'm not as toasted as that thing obviously is, but I think I might need to work out some kinks on that spell." She blinked then glanced at both Boromir and Faramir. Neither of them gawked at her. They were too busy taking deep breaths. "Are you two okay?"
Boromir and Faramir shared a glance. The older brother cracked a smile.
"Never better."
Faramir bowed his head and chuckled. "Why is it that every time you and I are together, something like this happens?"
"Maybe you have interesting luck, little brother," Boromir muttered. He shifted his gaze to the girl. "So then, who are you?"
"Me?" The girl put a finger to her chin and hummed. "That is… an excellent question actually."
"You don't know who you are?" Faramir asked.
"Well do any of us ever really know the answer to that question?" she replied before blinking and doing a little hop. "Oh! That was philosophical of me! I must have a memory of that somewhere. But where?" A frustrated huff shot from her lips and she patted the side of her head. "C'mon brain!"
Faramir's breath lodged in his throat when some of her midnight locks parted, revealing pointed ears hidden beneath them. Quickly, he bowed his head and nudged his brother to do the same. When Boromir spotted them, he drew back, surprised.
"A she-elf?"
"A what?" The girl replied, giving them a puzzled look. "What's a shelf? I mean, I know what a shelf is. You put stuff on it. Last I checked though, I'm not made of wood." She froze. "Or am I? No- wait! Fire spell. Can't be made of wood if I did that."
Faramir exhaled. A she-elf, that would explain most things. Her curious appearance and her magic were no doubt a product of her heritage. However, her mannerisms were not elvish in the slightest. The few elves Faramir did have the privilege of meeting were serene, regal people, kind and wise. This girl was as scatterbrained as anyone he had ever met.
"Do you have a name?" Boromir asked her.
"Name…" The girl hummed. "Name." Her brow knitted in frustration and confusion. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she held her breath, almost turning blue in the face before gasping. "Morgan! Ah ha! Hahahahahaha! Yes! Finally! That one I do know!"
"Morgan?" Boromir glanced at Faramir. "Is that-"
"Doesn't sound very elvish to me."
"I didn't think so," Boromir exhaled. "Well, Morgan of-"
"No idea!"
"Morgan of Somewhere then," Boromir replied. He knelt down and looked her in the eye. "Thank you for your assistance. Your actions saved mine and my brother's lives. We owe you a debt."
"I mean, you both sorta saved me too, so let's just call it even for now." Her stomach growled. A sheepish look crossed her face. "Or, we can call it even if you have food on you. I haven't exactly eaten anything in I don't even know how long. And I'm not being hyperbolic when I say that."
Boromir uttered a hearty laugh as he rose to his feet again. "Plenty, if you're in the mood for hardtack and salt pork."
Morgan grasped him by his surcoat. She licked her lips. What she said next both amused Faramir and made him concerned because he doubted any elf would ever say such a thing.
"You had me at pork."
And chapter! I've been SO excited to show you all this little chapter, because this is the chapter that sort of birthed the kernel of where I'm going to take part of this fic. I think this dynamic, Morgan, Boromir, and Faramir, is going to be way too much fun to write and I'm excited to see where it goes. Anyways, let me know what you all think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed it! Have a nice day!
