Faces of War

Chapter 11: Struggling


Disclaimer: This story borrows the characters so lovingly crafted by the master J.R.R. Tolkein. I gain only the joy of using my imagination....and am grateful that others share the fun of this experience.


Iorheal.....Our hobbit lad has found himself in quite a bit of trouble in his attempt to gain back the palace.....you will have to wait and see what his reaction to injustice will be....over many more chapters of course!


Amber....Thanks for reading....I hope you enjoy Hobbit stories, they are a personal favorite of mine....this is a terrific site for a wide range of Hobbit fics so enjoy and I hope you keep reading this one....


FrodoBaggins87...I too like a good cliffhanger, and while I can't promise that with each chapter....the anticipation of "what will happen next" is a wonderful enticement for both the reader and writer. Sit tight, you shall see LOTS of drama and angst, pain, stands of character, moments of despair and flashes of great truths. I hope you'll keep reading!






Terren and Kylos made their way back to the encampment, Frodo's cleansed garments in hand and a plan for return to the palace in mind. As they approached the breech in the rock wall that marked their camp. Terren became uneasy. "It's too quiet Kylo's my lad....it 'tis too still" the healer said with a worried look upon his lined face. They entered the camp to find darkness and quiet their only companions. Terren turned to Kylos in fear "They're gone, they would not 'a left unless somethin' fearful was about....I know how worried Frodo was for the safety of Rosetta..." he took a deep breath " and how he feared them ruffians from the ally." Kylos closed his eyes but a moment and flashed back to an image of two men he'd seen by the river earlier that night...a sudden thought came to him "Terren" he said with fear echoing in his voice " I saw two men by the river this evening as we washed the Halflings garments....they were...they were smilin' and I heard one of 'em laugh" Kylos finished with quiet understanding apparent in his words. Terren hung his head but a moment, "we got ta go lad, there 'tis trouble about and I've a feelin' we're all soon ta be caught up in it." the healer said with urgency and fear battling to overcome the calmness of his words. Frodo's garments were dropped upon the ground, as fear for the safety of the young ones he loved took over and he ran from the camp.


Frodo looked carefully from his vantage point behind the trees that edged the river. He'd skirted the camp, keeping Rosetta quieted with a firm grasp of her hand and an occasional whispered tidbit of 'pretend' to keep her fears at bay. He breathed a sigh of relief as he looked out upon the scattered tents, lean toos and shelters of this sparsely populated portion of the camp, perhaps his fears had been for naught. He beckoned for Rumeil to come closer "Rumeil" the weary hobbit whispered "are you sure this is where you saw the men last?". The frightened boy looked about wildly, then with a quickly exhaled breath exclaimed "Yes Sir Frodo, this is where they were only a few moments ago." Frodo's lips twitched in bemusement at the lads use of his name, but he looked about him cautiously. This stretch of land near to the river seemed quiet and taking a deep breath he gestured for Rumeil and Rosetta to follow him as he readied himself to leave the safety of the shadows to continue his search for Terren and Kylos.


Within seconds, his senses were overwhelmed by activities which sprung from several nearby areas; he spotted Terren and Kylos just as his sensitive hearing found the sound of a Robin's call. His eyes sought to keep Terren and Kylos within range even as his mind caught onto the thought 'Robins are a Springtime bird...''tis nigh on Summer here in Gondor....'.


Two cloaked figures, summoned by the signal call of their leader, materialized from a nearby copse of trees as Rosetta's eyes found the figures of Terren and Kylos. Just as Frodo was about to stop his princess from calling out in greeting to her brother and the healer, the little lass shot from the protection of his grasp and sprung from the safety of the trees to run towards her brother's arms. One of the cloaked figures, seeing the actions of the little girl stepped forward to intercept her and caught her about the waist as she ran to find the protection of her loved ones. Kylos watched in horror as the tall dark figure before him grabbed his sister and held her tight, he screamed in protest and ran to her aid.

Frodo looked, at that same moment, over his shoulder and saw the pale features of Rumeil highlighted by a soft beam of light from the waning moon. Rumeil had seen the actions of the cloaked man and had tensed to spring into motion as he sought to protect his sister. Within a heartbeat Frodo closed his eyes and saw within the confines of his vision, the truth that Rumeil was not to be a part of what was to come. He made a choice between one heartbeat and the next as he stooped to pick up a stick and brought it down upon the slender lads head. "You'd not survive this lad" he said in an anguished tone as Rumeil looked to him stunned and collapsed to the ground senseless. The boy lay still upon the ground, safe within the shadows of the tree as Frodo burst forth, stick in hand, ready to do battle for the child he meant to protect.

Kylos and Frodo converged upon the tall cloaked figure, holding the crying and squirming Rosetta, from opposite sides . The man, becoming impatient with the wiggling child in his arms, pulled a cloth sack from his cloak and with practiced efficiency drew it down over Rossetta head and tied it upon her with ropes wound about her tiny waist. He dropped the sack to the ground with a 'thud', causing a tiny wail of fear from the occupant of the sack.


Kylos was white with fury, he looked with concern upon the sack at the man's feet, it had stopped moving. He lunged for the man as Terren, who'd been paralyzed by his fear sprung into action. The old healer had just started to emerge from the shadows of the trees, desperate to help the children, when a vicious blow to his head dropped him in his tracks. Thad snorted with derision at the foiled attempts of the old man and turned to the clearing to help Mendal.


Mendal had easily caught the flying figure of Kylos as he'd flown against him in a rage. He was busy subduing him by twisting the lad's arms behind his back when the "thwack" of a stick and a burst of pain to his lower back loosened his grip upon the boy. He let go of Kylos in time to turn and see an enraged hobbit, brandishing a stick, standing two feet away. Frodo, panting from this unexpected exertion upon his weakened body, stared in horror at the face of the man who'd brought him such pain. Mendal laughed "missed me love?" he asked as he leered openly at the now trembling hobbit before him. Kylos had just gained his feet and was readying himself to attack Mendal again, when the blow of Thad's club caught him on the back, he sprawled forward and groaned as a swift kick to his head brought him to silence. Frodo stared in fear at Mendal, but as the sound of Kylos's pain reached him, fear gave way to anger and in his fury he approached the man, stick held high, once more. Mendal laughed and pulled a knife from his belt "come an get it my pretty one..." he said suggestively. Thad watched the scene before him unfold as he knelt to tie Kylos. The soft light of the moon, revealed with the slow passing of a whispy cloud, highlighted the ethereal beauty of the enraged hobbit. His pale skin glowed in the moon's light and his wide blue eyes, flashing in fury, were bright against the background of his furrowed brow. Thad felt a wonder for the fairness before him, and a leering smile came to his face as he was reminded of his last encounter with the slender halfling. He rose to circle behind Mendal, to offer what help his partner might need as the furious hobbit raised his stick and rushed in to to protect the children.


Frodo, with a cry of rage stooped low and swung the stick, his blow caught Mendal behind his knee, causing the man to growl in anger and fall to the ground. The Hobbit pressed his advantage and came in to strike Mendal a blow upon his shoulders, which caused the man to spin and fall to his side. As Mendal fell to his side he reached out and grasped the Hobbit's cloak and brought him with a sudden twisting yank to the ground as well. In seconds the man's knife, cold and shimmering in the moonlight, was poised at the Ringbearers throat. Frodo found himself gasping, his breath hitching from exertion and panic as Mendal reached to grasp him about the waist, trapping the arm that held the stick against his trembling body. The man slowly stood and hauled the Hobbit cruelly to his feet, the knife's presence keenly felt as a quick shifting of his head caused the blade to nick his tender skin. The trickle of blood left by the knife was a source of fascination for Mendal as the foul man tightened his grip about the hobbits waist he lowered his lips to his neck and licked the line of blood as he whispered "yer mine tonight Halfhigh". Frodo struggled to move away from the fetid breath of the man holding him, but his struggles only caused Mendal to laugh and spin the Hobbit about so that his face was closer yet to the man's evil grin. Frodo glared at the ugly countenance before him and as Medal sought to close the gap between them in a more intimate embrace, he swiftly raised his foot and kicked with all his might. The Hobbit's hardened foot landed in a sensitive region of Mendal's body and Frodo found himself suddenly let go as the man yelped in pain. Frodo spun, stick still in his hand, ready to halt his attacker once more when he found himself propelled forward with the force of a blow to his shoulders. He stumbled several feet, trying desperately to regain his footing, only to fall to the ground in a stunned heap.


Thad, raised his club once more and brought it down several times upon the Hobbit's back and sides. Frodo rolled in a ball, trying to protect himself, but he could feel himself beginning to lose consciousness. As the edges of his awareness faded to grey and pain he was suddenly lifted up by the hard grasp of large hands upon his upper arms. His head lolled to one side weakly as he struggled to fix his gaze upon the figure holding him. His vision cleared enough for the image of swarthy skin, rough stubbled beard and greasy black hair to swim before him. He felt a sickness in the depths of his stomach as foul breath and leering words reached his fading senses "yer in me dreams you are me sweet", he struggled in vain as the man pressed his face to his and nearly retched as the stench of stale brews and foul meats overcame him. His last memory was of the feel of the man's lips upon his as he thankfully faded to unconsciousness.


Frodo woke to a rocking motion, he felt his world moving slowly and soothingly side to side, a gentle calming balm to his senses. Yet even as his body was soothed by motion, his gradually returning sense of sight and touch became aware of darkness and rough textures rubbing upon his skin. He tried to open his eyes, only to find that his head was covered by a rough dark sack that blotted out any chance his eyes had of beholding his surroundings. He carefully tried to move his body, only to find his hands tied behind him and waves of pain radiating from his back, he took a deep breath and nearly cried out from the pain in his ribs. His head ached and he felt his senses beginning to fade again as the rough grinding noise of wood upon rocks was heard. His body was slammed painfully into a hard object as the cessation of movement caused him to be jostled. The movement stopped and sounds of low voices and children's whimpers and cries could be heard as the boat came ashore. Suddenly rough, grasping hands grabbed him and slung him over a shoulder, he was reminded of his previous beating as his ribs protested his treatment and he groaned involuntarily. His last memory was of being tossed onto another hardened surface as the sounds of restless horses and the whispers of frightened children filled his ears.


Sam had burst into the King's council chambers shortly after his talk with Jana the scullery maid. The door wardens had tried half heartedly to question his need to speak with the King, but Sam had just shrugged them off and bolted past them. The wardens looked to one another and shook their heads, it was best not to question the Halflings for all in the palace knew the weakness the new King had for these foreigners.


In the time it took for a nearly breathless Sam to tell Jana's story, Aragorn had sent for his head advisors and arranged his first royal pardon. A contingency of his best tower guards was assembled and within hours all was ready for his search of the lower camps. Aragorn had retreated to his chambers and changed to his drab and anonymous ranger garb, knowing that he would find more answers without his mantle of Kingship. Legolas and Farmir were sent for and soon a small search party of 20 men were leaving the palace gates. The Sun was just rising above the distant hills as they wound their way through the twisting streets of the White City.


Aragorn, his eyes cold and distant, looked for the first time at the destruction of the city. His heart was filled with sadness for his people, many had suffered, were still suffering from the effects of the war. His lips were pursed with determination as his gaze took in ruined homes, shattered markets, burned out smithies and looted shops....everywhere he looked the devistation of the war was a scar upon his city. He gripped the reins of his horse with whitened knuckles and rode forth through the levels of the city. They reached the lowest level and exited the ruined main gate only to stop and stare in amazement at the sight before them.


The outer walls of the city had been breeched in many places, everywhere there were heaps of broken walls and remnants of fortifications. But it was not the specter of the landscape that drew the Kings eye, it was the sea of broken humanity that stretched before him. The refugee camp was just stirring, readying itself to meet another painful day, as the King of Gondor saw the true price his people had paid for Sauron's greed and avarice. He clenched his eyes shut in pain, but at Sam's quiet urging and whispered words of comfort, he prodded his horse into movement once more. They traveled to the farthest reaches of the camp, knowing from Jana's descriptions that her Grandfather had taken up residence near to the camps of the orphan children. As he broke the search party up into smaller groups, Aragorn took Sam and Legolas with him and headed towards the river where a strand of trees and ruined rock wall drew his attention. 'Two days' he thought to himself 'it is but two days that he has been missing'. He found himself wondering if

Frodo had found friend or foe in that time, but looking at the desolation about him, feeling the sense of despair that hung over the camp, he readied his heart for the worst.