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.
Author's Note: This is a bit short, but the Muse decided I'd written enough for one night. I promise another update soon! Oh, and this one wasn't beta-read, so any mistakes you find are mine, all mine.
Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
(The rise above the Pelennor Fields)
Tanathel roused in the dim light and got to her feet quickly, moving toward the road. The ground beneath her shook under the fall of many feet, and she immediately doused her tiny fire and readied her bow. She might get a few shots off before they cut her down, if it were the wrong people headed her way.
She had to resist the urge to grin, however, when she heard the unmistakable jingle of harness. A glad cry rose from her throat and she planted her feet firmly upon the road, watching the column advance.
Aragorn and Eomer headed the column, closely followed by Legolas (and Gimli), Eowyn, and rank after rank of well-armed, well-trained troops. Elves, Dwarves, and Rohirrim stretched as far as her eyes could see along the road and she raised her bow in greeting, giving a glad shout before moving forward to her King.
"Steward Faramir sends his regards, my lord, and bids you welcome home," she reported formally. "The Rangers of Ithilien stand ready to your orders, sire."
"Well met, Tanathel of Ithilien," Aragorn replied gravely. "I had hoped to find you whole at the end of this road. Report."
"Orcs control the city, on Saruman's orders," she stated baldly. "Those who would not bend to his will have either been imprisoned or slain. The Rangers are working on freeing those left while we speak." She hoped Pippin had seen her glad greeting of the column; if so, then Faramir had been given the signal to begin. This plan was a miracle of timing. One misstep and it could all go awry. "We must come to the Gates before nightfall, my lord. Everything depends upon you, now."
"I trust Faramir confided his plan to you, at least," Aragorn said, a hint of humor in his voice. "Come, then, ride with me and tell me all."
(Minas Tirith)
Pippin scurried through the darkness of the tunnels. He'd seen Tanathel's welcome of the column, he'd seen Aragorn and the others, he'd even seen Merry! That seemed to him a good sign. So he was headed deeper into the City to inform Faramir, as he'd been instructed.
A figure stepped into his path and he halted, taking a step backward reflexively as the intruder was recognized. Boromir, however, didn't seem to recognize him in return. In fact, it seemed that the big man hadn't even noticed him.
Pippin was torn. He had his orders, but the man before him had risked all, even given his very life to protect Pippin at Amon Hen. He couldn't let this go without even an attempt to help his friend. But what then of Faramir's plan? He couldn't fail the Steward, either. For a fleeting moment, he wished he was back in the Shire before the Ring had been found.
Then he took matters into his own hands. Boromir still hadn't registered his presence, it seemed. The man was plodding steadily toward the Citadel, his steps heavy. He seemed overcome with weariness, yet he staggered on. Pippin seized the opportunity and hefted a stone, his heart pounding with trepidation at the thought of what he was about to do.
He tested the stone's weight in his hand, wondering if it would be heavy enough to do the job without giving permanent harm to Boromir, and decided there wasn't much choice in any case. With a silent apology to his friend, he let fly.
Boromir dropped without a sound and Pippin breathed a small sigh of relief as he checked the warrior. A small rill of blood dripped from the point of impact at his temple, but otherwise the Gondorian seemed unharmed. His heart beat steady and slow against Pippin's fingertips.
What to do now? Suddenly this act seemed a bit foolhardy to the Hobbit. He would have to leave Boromir bound and gagged in the tunnel, and hope that the Orcs didn't find him before Pippin could return with help. There was no hope for it.
Quickly he set to work, using his dagger to slice through Boromir's cloak and fashioning strips to bind him with. Hands behind, so he couldn't get them free to grasp a weapon and perhaps cut his way free, feet bound firmly together, and a loop of material holding arms and feet together. Then he moved away, doubling his speed to reach Faramir in time.
(Minas Tirith)
Faramir glanced up sharply as he heard a sound in the tunnel. Not his loyal Hobbit, he knew; Pippin could move as soundlessly as the wind when necessary.
Quickly he signaled his men to fall back. He would meet whoever this foe was and hope to drop him quickly and silently. He raised his sword
and lowered it quickly. "Have a care, little Hobbit, you almost got yourself killed," he hissed as he brought Pippin forward rather more forcefully than necessary. "It's a good thing I know you're loyal. Why are you racketing about in the dark? We have need of stealth, Peregrine, as well you know."
"I wasn't trying to be too quiet, Faramir, because we have a small problem and the sooner you know of it the better," Pippin fired back saucily. "Everything is on schedule. Aragorn picked Tanathel up about half an hour ago. They're making their way to the Gate now."
Faramir nodded to his men and they silently departed, each for his assigned area. They would cause trouble within the City, keep the Orcs occupied until the force had reached the Gate. "Tell me," he demanded.
"I left Boromir trussed up a couple of turns behind me."
Faramir blinked. "You did what?" he finally asked when he found his voice.
"I bounced a rock off that thick skull of his and then I tied him up, gagged him, stuffed him out of sight, and came here." Pippin shifted guiltily from one foot to the other, unable to look Faramir in the eye. "I didn't know what else to do, and we have to do something about him. We can't just let Saruman control him forever." There, it was out, what he'd been worrying about since word had first come of Boromir's revival. No matter what, he was going to try and help his Big Man. Boromir had risked all, given all, and still tried to help him and Merry until the life left his body. Pippin thought that just had to mean something.
Faramir went to one knee, bringing himself level with the Hobbit's gaze. "Yes, we have to help him. Bless you for thinking fast." He rose and laid a hand on Pippin's shoulder. "Show me where."
