Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or concepts of Middle Earth; they belong to the estate of JRR Tolkien. Tanathel, however, is my creation and I would like to be asked before she is used in any other fic.
Author's note: This story is set in an Alternate Universe of my own making. It is after the War of the Ring and several years into the Fourth Age. Boromir will feature in this story, and if you wish to learn how he survived, you will have to read. This will be mostly movie-verse, since no one knows what happened to Saruman after the Ents trashed Isengard in PJ's world.
Dedications: To Evendim, who helped me find the courage to seriously write in this fandom, and who has given me great fun with her own AU series. And to my darling AJ, without whom I would never have had the courage to allow my stories to see the light of day. I couldn't have done it without you, ladies, and I love you both for it. Don't ever change.
Revolution and Retribution
Chapter Twelve
(Minas Tirith)
Pippin led Faramir through the tunnels to the rooms Grima had claimed for his own, taking care not to move faster than the Steward was able. Faramir was in dire shape, but he held it well, and the only indication of his discomfort was the occasional reluctant hiss of pain.
"Wait here," Faramir ordered softly as they emerged from the darkness of the tunnels. "I will send Eowyn to you. Take her to safety and I will follow as soon as I have dealt with the Worm."
"No, sir," Pippin fired back quickly as he placed a restraining hand on the Steward's arm. "I know you want to avenge yourself --- and Eowyn --- but this isn't the time. You know that, if you'll think."
"I will not allow him to live, not after what he has done." Faramir's tone was crisp, but it was clear he'd hear no argument. His sword was in hand, his face was set. It was more frightening to Pippin to see the normally gentle Hurin so controlled than if he had been raging violently. The sheer amount of hatred Faramir was holding at bay shocked the Halfling, and he took a half step back before he could stop himself.
Pippin held his tongue. Nothing he could say would sway the Steward, it was obvious. The least he could do was keep Eowyn safe, as had been requested. "All right, then. We go in together and get her out."
Faramir nodded. "There are no guards here," he remarked as he gave the area a cautious once-over. "Why is that? Surely the Worm is not so secure as to forgo his protection, especially in the company of my wife." A tiny smile, not at all pleasant, graced his features for a split second. "Eowyn is nothing if not determined. She will fight him until there is no life left within her."
The sound of Eowyn's voice raised in fury was enough to lend speed to their venture. Faramir burst through the door Pippin had barely reached, sword raised to deliver a killing blow, only to be hastily redirected as Eowyn ducked under his arm to head for the hallway beyond. Pippin dove to one side to avoid the fleeing woman and rolled, coming up with his own blade bared and stepped between Eowyn and the carnage within the apartment.
The skirmish had quickly escalated into a full-scale war, for Grima had not been unarmed when Eowyn had come barreling through the door. Parry, thrust, thrust, parry, the blades flashed quickly, creating a quicksilver blur.
It was evident that Grima had not allowed his training to lapse, even after having given his allegiance to Saruman. He had been one of the Rohirrim once, and as such had more than just a passing acquaintance with a blade. Faramir, however, had the benefit of far more experience in dueling.
Relentlessly, he pressed his attack, forcing Grima back until there was no further retreat. The cornered man was quickly disarmed, and Faramir grasped him by the throat, blade positioned for a killing thrust.
"Wait!" Grima screamed, sweat oozing from every pore. "If you kill me, you'll never know what happened to your brother!"
Faramir pushed the tip of the sword just a bit closer, now holding Grima to the wall with just the blade. The condemned man squealed as the steel bit through his tunic to press solidly against flesh. "I already know what happened to Boromir, Worm," Faramir snarled, his face contorted with fury. "He fell at Amon Hen, defending the Hobbits. And you are about to die like the mangy cur you are."
Grima's expression quickly changed from terrified to crafty. "Then you do not know! My master has not told you!" Quickly he sought to press his advantage, while Pippin and Eowyn moved closer. Pippin had closed the door and barred it against possible reinforcements, and had given Eowyn a purloined bed sheet to cover the scanty nightdress she wore.
Eowyn placed a restraining hand on Faramir's arm. "Let him speak," she urged, her voice cold. "He may yet have something useful to say. Then you can kill him." She turned away then, to rummage through the chests in the room for something she might use as a weapon, and for something a bit more appropriate to wear.
"Speak," the Steward demanded.
Grima looked each way, perspiring heavily. "Boromir is no longer with his ancestors," he began slowly, venom dripping from every word. "Lord Saruman has returned him to his flesh. He has seen the error of following your false King, and serves the White Hand." He would have added more, but Faramir put more pressure on the blade and Grima fell silent, seeing his death in the Steward's eyes.
Faramir suddenly dropped the blade, again tightening his fingers around his victim's throat. "Lies," he snarled, his face mere inches from Grima's. "Even Saruman cannot restore the dead."
He dragged the reluctant Grima from the room, out onto the balcony. "Pray, Worm," he hissed as he pushed the man against the railing. "I would have shown you mercy, had you not harmed my wife. For that, and that alone, you die." He kept pushing until Grima was clawing at his wrist for purchase.
"No, please!" Grima was panic-stricken. "I swear to you, it is the truth! Look below, you have only to use your eyes, look!"
Faramir looked down, despite himself, and caught his breath. His fingers slackened against Grima's throat, and the Worm tore free and scurried toward the door, only to find the Hobbit and Eowyn guarding against his escape. His sword was in Eowyn's hand, and her expression promised his death if he attempted to reach the door.
Faramir was thunderstruck. How could that be? It wasn't possible! Saruman could never have had such power! But from the moment the man's face turned upward, he knew.
The Worm had spoken the truth. Boromir lived!
"There will be a reckoning, Worm," Faramir hissed as he stepped around the foul creature. "For now, take yourself somewhere far from here, for if Saruman learns you allowed us to escape, his wrath would rival mine. I would not wish such a death as the wizard would provide on the foulest creature on Arda."
He gestured to the others and they left the apartments, their steps quick and furtive. Soon, they were near the stables and Faramir signaled them to halt. "Eowyn, you must ride for Rohan and your brother. Pippin's pony would be too slow, and I must see to Boromir. I must know if he truly serves the wizard, or is enchanted. I must know if it is truly Boromir." In his heart, he already knew, though he could not credit it. "If Eomer is unaware of the King's death, you must break it to him. But you must go."
"But he's not dead!"
Pippin's voice was of necessity quite soft, but there was no mistaking the words. "He's not dead, Faramir, he only wants Saruman to think so," he explained quickly. "He sent the Evenstar with Tanathel, just so Saruman would believe he was dead. Tanathel let herself be captured so he'd find it. He's on his way to Rohan, and Tanathel is supposed to be waiting for us on the Pelennor, if she was able to escape."
Eowyn knelt to embrace the Hobbit. "Such news is gladly heard, my friend," she said softly. "Faramir, I will not only carry news of our King to my brother, I will tell him of Boromir as well. Now go, rendezvous with your Ranger, and I will be off." She rose and kissed him gently, then turned toward the stables. A scant few moments later, she spurred out of the courtyard, headed down the streets toward the gate.
The smaller side gate opened as she reached it, just as Orcs began pouring out of the quarters to intercept. Arrows pierced the dawn, and the first wave of them fell back dead, allowing her to escape toward Rohan.
"Ride swiftly, my lady," Tanathel whispered as she ducked inside the gate, finding cover behind the guardhouse. She was soon joined by Faramir and Pippin. "Come, I've a safe place nearby where we can plan."
