Faces of War
Chapter 13: Inquiring
Disclaimer: This AU fan fic is based on the inspired characters of J.R.R. Tolkien. I gain nothing, save an opportunity to experiment with my writing.
Aragorn swore under his breath as he wearily ran his hand through his unkept locks. He was exhausted, after returning Terren and Rumeil to the house of healing and leaving them under the watchful of Sam, he and Legolas and Faramir had returned to the camp. They had questioned, cajoled and queried any who would speak with them. There was fear in the camp, Aragorn looked about him at the ramshackle hovels and makeshift tents that many of Gondor's citizens called 'home', and he blamed them not for their fear.
He thanked the old man he'd been speaking with, and with a curt nod walked to Brego. He leaned his head a moment into his silken neck, and murmured elven words to greet his loyal companion. His mind was racing, they had carefully searched the area where Terren saw the hobbit taken, and while Legolas was able to follow the signs of the struggle, and the retreating footsteps for a short distance, the heavily traveled pathways of the camp were too difficult a web to untangle. They were relying on questioning the inhabitants of the camp, but that was proving useless as well. He sighed, thinking that perhaps he'd need to change from his ranger garb and impose his Kingly presence upon his scared and reluctant citizens. He turned from his horse and his eyes swept the camp scene before him, fear and misery, suffering and despair met his eyes in the form of hungry children, numbed widows and broken men. No, he could not turn to them as King until he 'd gained their trust as a person.
Just then Legolas and Faramir returned, faces drawn with fatigue and worry. Aragorn dropped his eyes and shook his head in answer to Legolas's unspoken question. The elf reached a supportive hand to Aragorns shoulder and said softly "we will have no luck in questioning the peoples of the camp, there is fear here, fear of an evil that all will not name to strangers." Aragorn nodded "yes, I sense it too my friend, and I fear that the hours that delay us only bring more hardship to Frodo and the children." He paused a moment, reflecting upon their next course of action and turned to Faramir. "We shall return to the palace and in the morning return Terren and Rumeil to the camp, with money that may lose the tongues of those reluctant to speak of their fears." Faramir looked to Legolas and then back to the King " coins may help my King, but what is needed most is hope, can we not send the healer and the boy back to the camp as emissaries of the Palace?.... Then they may be seen as seeking to organize and help those in need. In this way I feel that they will gain the trust that is needed." Aragorn smiled, a motion his lips had not made in quite a while it seemed to him "Yes my Lord Faramir, hope...with hope and trust we will find what we seek.".
The march continued. Through the heat of the day and as the late afternoon shadows began to gather, the children marched. Frodo, who'd told his Princess tales 'till she fell asleep, and who could now barely speak but for the dryness of his parched mouth, wavered unsteadily on his feet. He fought to stay on his feet, but as the terrain became more treacherous and the heat of the day wore on it became more difficult. The children suffered too, especially the youngest ones and on several occasions the cart was halted and Frodo roughly shoved to one side as another prone child was laid in the bed of the cart.
The sun beat down upon him, the elven cloak, tunic, covering and mithrial shirt he wore soon became unbearable. His wrists were raw from the rubbing of the rope, and his feet, not fully recovered from the assault of Mordor, were bloodied from the chafing of the unfamiliar boots. He wavered unsteadily and as the cart began to pick up speed on a downhill stretch, he felt his last reserve of strength go and he collapsed. The cart continued, dragging his limp form until Kylos's cries alerted the driver and the cart was stopped.
Kylos knelt down and gently pulled Frodo's unresponsive head to his lap. Finarian rode back and shouted "what's the delay?" Kylos looked to him with undisguised hatred and disgust "yer killin' him in this heat, his skin 'tis dry as a bone, the heat sickness'll get 'em if ya don't allow him ta rest." Finarian got down from his horse and kicked the prone hobbit. A moan escaped Frodo and he struggled to open his eyes. Finarian's face darkened at the thought of another delay, he knew they were already behind schedule, and Dalmer did not like delays. He looked to the boy "ya got ten minutes." He signaled to his men to have the children sit and sent water around, then dropped a full water skin at the hobbits side "remember, 10 minutes" he said and rode off to the head of the marchers.
Kylos wasted no time in untying Frodo's hands and began to loosen and remove Frodo's clothing. He took the Hobbit's cloak and made a pillow for his head, dampened a portion of the tunic he'd removed and wiped the hobbits hot and dirty forehead. Frodo felt as if a troll were upon him, he felt so weary, as if all his limbs had turned to stone, he could scarcely move. His eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring into the concerned gaze of Kylos. "Jest you rest easy Frodo, ye collapsed from the heat and I've got ta get some of the clothing off ye." Frodo nodded weakly "no more than to the shirt Kylos" he whispered. Taking his cue from Frodo's pointing fingers Kylos turned his attention to removing Terrens boots and gasped as he saw the cuts and bloodied blisters. He sat Frodo up and handed him the water skin as he began to tend to the damaged feet. Frodo eagerly began to drink "not so fast there Mr. Frodo, ye'll make yerself sick, slow up sir...there ya go" he said and reached to take the water skin from Frodo . Frodo closed his eyes briefly in gratitude "you sound as my companion Sam" he sighed "thank you lad, you've been very brave." Kylos continued to bath Frodo's face and neck with the dampened tunic and began to unbutton Frodo's shirt to cool his chest when Frodo grabbed his hand and shook his head in warning.
Thad, who'd been watching unnoticed , appeared and shoved Kylos away from the hobbit while dragging Frodo to his feet. "Ye got more clothes yet ta come off lad, here...let me help" and so saying he yanked Frodo's shirt open and gasped in astonishment. The brilliance of the Mithrial shirt shone and glittered in the glaring sun, Thad found it hard to keep his eyes upon something so bright. "Hey, Finarian, come see how the King rewards his favorite halfhigh" he laughed. Finarian rode back and dismounted in silence. He strode forward and rubbed his hand upon the hobbit's chest as he said in awe "The king must value you beyond all others to allow a gift such as this" he said in wonder. Frodo stared sullenly at the dark haired man " 'twas a gift from my Uncle" he snapped. Finarian snorted " Oh, well 'tis no matter, for it's mine now" he said as he gestured to Thad to remove the shirt. Frodo felt himself roughly shaken as the shirt was ripped over his head, and pulled back in disgust as Thad allowed his hands to remain and warmly caresses his naked chest. Thad handed the shirt to Finarian and taking the hobbits chin in his hand grabbed it hard and forced Frodo's head back so that he could gaze into his bewitching blue eyes. "I like ye better this way my sweet" he said as he suddenly took one of Frodo's hands in his and abruptly twisted his arm behind the hobbit's back and pulled him into his rough embrace. Frodo tried desperately to twist his head side to side as Thad, removing his hand from his chin, entangled it in his dark brown curls and pulled his face forward for a kiss. Frodo was caught in a brutal embrace and his lips were bruised against the force of Thad's advances. With a deft twist he finally managed to pull his face away even as his foot made contact with a sensitive portion of the man's body. With a cry of rage Frodo was thrown to the ground as Thad began to strike out at the hobbit with his feet. Kylos, found himself once more having to throw himself between the two until the flick of Finarian's whip caught him about the neck and he yelped in pain as he was pulled to the ground beside the hobbit. "That's enough Thad, you shall have to amuse yerself with the King's plaything later....now we must continue." Finarian said coldly. He yanked Kylos to his feet and shoved him aside. Next, he pulled the still gasping hobbit to his feet and rebound his hands before him as he was once again trussed to the lead rope on the wagon's gate. "You will find that I do not like delays my friend...you shall pay for this." Finarian said coldly as he signaled for the march to continue.
The day became a blur of pain. Finarian seemed intent upon showing the hobbit the power of his displeasure, and he frequently had the cart driver increase the speed of the cart, 'till Frodo would fall to the ground. Hard stones and hot sand burned and cut the hobbit's naked chest and face and soon he was lost in a nightmare. He doggedly put one foot before another, fell, was dragged and got up only to walk some more. All of his dreaded memories of the last days in Mordor returned to him and he relived once more the days of heat, ash, hunger and thirst as he soon could no longer distinguish his current pain from his past.
By nightfall, Finarian decided that he would have to halt the marchers once again. He swore under his breath "Dalmer won't be liking this delay...it's that halfling 'o the King's...." he muttered. He eyed the hobbit distastefully "he's the reason we're delayed" he said under his breath as he gave orders to his men to group the children in small clusters, and gave out water and hardened loaves of bread. Finarian didn't trust Frodo to be near to the children, and despite the protests of Kylos and Rosetta, Frodo was left alone, tied to the wheel of the cart.
Frodo shivered, he'd not been given any covering and the night's chill was descending upon him. He fought the urge to sleep, he needed this quiet time to think, think of a plan to aid the children and keep them from reaching their destination. He turned his thoughts to his visions, trying to see where they might be headed, but it was of no use. Try as he might, he could see no destination...he had seen the children, the pain, the cruelty of men, the march....but not the place to which they traveled. He shivered again in the night air and felt the throbbing pains of his body where it had come in contact with the unforgiving ground.
He closed his eyes and a lump formed in his throat as a memory of his dear Sam, warm brown eyes and stoutly protective demeanor filled his imagination.'I've 'gone and done it now' my friend' ' he thought to himself. ' Oh Sam, how I long to have you here to fuss over your silly Mr. Frodo' he thought as his friend's face drifted before him "forgive me Sam...I know I've disappointed you yet again" he whispered to himself, as he looked up to the blanket of Stars twinkling up above, he was once again with his friend under the spreading branches of the party tree sharing stories and dreams as the stars winked at them from the ever shifting spaces between the rustling leaves of the great elm. "Oh Elbereth guide me back to him" he whispered with an edge of pain and fear making his words husky and his eyes glisten with unshed tears. The sight of his beloved stars above brought him some measure of comfort and he thought to himself 'I must be strong, I must be strong for the little ones'.
He tried to adjust himself, seeking some comfort in the position in which he'd been left, but none was to be had. They had left his hands tied before him, but had bound him to the wheel of the cart with sturdy ropes wrapped about his neck. The day's march, his many falls, the sunburn upon his sensitive skin, his bloodied feet...a thousand hurts small and large seemed ready to sweep him into the bliss of unconsciousness. Yet, the rope about his neck allowed him no rest for as he began to sleep and his head dropped to the side or forward in his slumber, the rope's pull would rob him of his breath and he would surface to his pain and consciousness again. He ceased to listen to the pains and needs of his body and distracted himself with his thoughts.
'There must be about 40 children....more lads than lasses it looks...most about 8 to 12 summers....but 'tis difficult to tell with the children of men' he found himself thinking. He went through his mind, a careful inventory of the sights and sounds of the day 'these men are fearful of their leader, there are but four guards here...I wonder how many where we are headed?'. Frodo made a mental note to enlist Kylos's help in his tally of the guards and children. He feared that his own rapidly deteriorating health might affect his ability to recall details. With that thought his mind drifted yet again, back to the children 'they all seem to be holding up well to the strain of this ordeal' he found himself thinking that the difficulties of their lives as refugees had hardened them physically beyond their years. He trembled in the cooling air, and groaned as he sought once more to find a comfortable position. He longed for sleep, he was so very tired, but had to settle for quick respite through dozing and light slumber, all that his bonds would allow. As he drifted out of his sleepiness again from the press of the rope upon his neck, he thought of their destination. He guessed them to be around 30 or 35 leagues from Minas Tirith, they'd traveled mostly west and he guessed from the gradually changing geography and increasing elevation they were heading into the White mountains. His last thoughts were 'why? what purpose lies in the mountains?', his head, having finally found a stable place to rest, relaxed and he felt his shivering body gradually still as the weight of his fatigue forced him to a state of stillness. He slept as he had in Mordor, his body once again experiencing the total exhaustion that constant pain and discomfort brought, while his mind sought to hold on to a glimmer of hope that would guide him to the next day.