Chapter 11
ALL THAT day the army marched. The horses were kept at a restful walk, the pace set by the infantry. Erin and Adrienne moved throughout the army, careful to avoid staying with a single company long enough to draw scrutiny. Periodically Adrienne offered Erin a drink of medicated water, which she accepted gratefully. Adrienne could see that Erin was not doing well; she was pale beneath the helm, and her speech was clipped with pain. The blood loss had probably weakened her much more than it had Adrienne.
Briefly Adrienne thought that perhaps it had not been a good idea to bring Erin along on this. Her health did not appear to be up to such a journey. The constant bouncing on the saddle had to be incredibly painful, not to mention the armor rubbing against her side, and the tiny doses of painkiller Adrienne was giving her couldn't be much help. But Adrienne was afraid that larger or more frequent doses would dull their senses and vigilance, something they could not allow. Successfully reaching the Black Gates required that they be continually and fully alert.
Adrienne's attention, however, was being increasingly drawn to her throbbing foot. If she had been anywhere else, she would have had it up on pillows in an attempt to lessen the blood flow. She desperately tried to ignore the pain; she'd had broken toes and other foot injuries in color guard, and had never missed a day of school because of them. She had considered herself pretty well-prepared for the rigors of this journey.
Damn it, Adrienne, lock it away! Concentrate on your surroundings! Erin is in no shape to pay attention to them! Adrienne gave herself a mental upbraiding.
Looking about her, Adrienne noticed that the setting sun was beating hard upon the backs of the soldiers. The East looked even more forbidding, the Mountains of Shadow blood-red. Men found excuses to look in their saddlebags or converse with their fellow soldiers, rather than stare at the terrain ahead. Adrienne concentrated on it, trying to face and conquer her fears. Mordor. Even for her, or perhaps especially for her, it was a name out of stories, out of fiction. She had never expected to be getting this close to the real thing. The forbidding mountains seemed to symbolize the strength of the Enemy, too great for any army to defeat, especially not one only seven thousand strong. Well, seven thousand and two.
Remember the books, Adrienne reminded herself. Remember how they ended. So far it's followed the books exactly. There's no reason for it to deviate now. But in her heart, Adrienne knew there didn't need to be a reason. Tolkien wrote his tale before the fact; it could not be relied on for truth. The only truth was uncertainty.
Earlier that day the army had passed through Osgiliath; or rather, they had passed through the ruins of Osgiliath. The city was utterly reduced to rubble, its high towers and white domes broken and leveled, the reverent silence marred only by the cries of men working to restore the bridges and the violent rhythm of the army echoing off the stone. Yet even in its twilight the city possessed a measure of its former glory and beauty, the winds whispering stories of long-dead ghosts to those who would listen, sending shivers down Adrienne's spine. The smooth curve of an archway, the carved designs that once decorated the eaves of some grand building inspired visions of grace and splendor in one's mind, and Adrienne found herself longing for her sketchbook. As they crossed the Anduin the rippling water blurred the lines of reality, and for a moment Adrienne had thought she saw the high-domed structure behind them, whole and gleaming in the sun. Then she had blinked, and the vision was gone.
Adrienne was jerked out of her thoughts when the riders in front of her came to a stop. Adrienne craned her neck, trying to see what was happening. In the dim light of approaching dusk, she could just make out a figure at the head of the party raising a fist in the signal to halt. Gradually men began leading their horses off the road, and Adrienne realized it was time to make camp.
She nodded to Erin and they dismounted, following the men in front of them. Adrienne leaned over briefly, whispering, "Do what everyone else does." Erin nodded, lips tightened into a thin red line, stark against her pale face. Adrienne knew she probably looked similar, since her foot was filled not only with throbbing pain, but with pins and needles to boot. Riding all day was not the same as riding for a couple of hours in lessons, and there had been few rests. She knew her entire body was going to pay dearly for this tomorrow morning, not just her foot.
The men directly ahead of them began removing saddlebags and tack from their horses, giving the animals to a legion of stableboys. Adrienne did likewise, memorizing the particular features of Caelef: he had a white ankle on his right foreleg, and some scattered white spots on his rump. Then she handed the reins over, nodding her thanks to the stableboy who took them. She and Erin then followed the same group of men to what appeared to be their assigned location for camping. Adrienne gave a sigh of relief to find that it was near the horses; that meant the walk in the morning, which she would surely feel even less inclined to make, would be short.
It also meant that the walk from the horses to the assigned camp was short. Adrienne's foot was violently protesting her decision to refuse Erin's aid in carrying her tack, as well as her attempts to walk normally. She couldn't help favoring it a little, but she didn't want to draw attention by openly limping around.
Erin had noticed Adrienne's pain as well, from the looks she was giving Adrienne. Adrienne barely held back a tart remark to Erin about looking to her own health. That was one of the reasons Adrienne had refused to let Erin carry extra tack; she personally didn't think Erin was strong enough to carry any more than her own baggage.
Erin nearly collapsed onto the ground when they stopped at what was to be the site of their tent, proving Adrienne's theory that she was weaker than she let on. She watched with confusion as Adrienne began unrolling and setting up the tent. "What are you doing?" she asked softly as Adrienne came near.
"Pitching camp." Adrienne whispered back. She gestured to the rest of the camp, where the other soldiers were doing the same thing.
"What can I do to help?" Erin asked, obviously guilty that Adrienne was doing all the work.
Adrienne looked at her critically. "How about you go through the saddlebags and figure out how much edible stuff we've got? Then you can ration it out and have dinner ready when I'm done."
"You're relegating me to food preparation? Our situation must be dire indeed," Erin said with only a hint of mirth.
"You don't look strong enough to help me at all," Adrienne answered with a snort. Erin gave her an indignant glare, and Adrienne realized that had been the wrong thing to say.
"I can too…help…you," Erin huffed as she dragged herself to her feet. "Erin Warford reporting for duty, sir." Her voice was barely above a whisper, and Adrienne doubted she could have produced a louder tone.
Adrienne raised her eyebrows skeptically, and decided to take a different approach. "Erin, it'll be more efficient if we split up the chores. Remember, I know how to set up a tent. I was in Indian Princesses."
"Indian Princesses?" Erin asked, sinking back to the ground. Apparently she had accepted Adrienne's logic. Adrienne suppressed a sigh of relief; Erin was definitely in worse condition than she was, and Adrienne didn't want to exacerbate her condition further by making her help with such a physical chore as setting up a tent.
"It's kind of like Girl Scouts, but we learned a lot about survival…including how to set up a tent. Granted, those were more modern tents, but I think I can figure this out," Adrienne replied.
Erin pulled the saddlebags toward her with a defeated sigh. "Good luck."
WHEN AT first the army came to a stop, Kavila panicked. Her thoughts raced. Had someone discovered her and reported her? Perhaps they had seen that she was dark-skinned! If she could just talk with Gandalf, or even Aragorn…he might remember her… But then the men around her began to dismount, and Kavila relaxed, realizing how dark it had become. It was just time to stop for the night.
Yet this caused a new anxiety to arise in her. Her mind picked up speed again as she dismounted carefully, grimacing at the pins and needles in her legs. She had no idea what to do now. All she knew about making camp was that it involved tents and fires, neither of which she knew how to set up. She didn't even know if she had a tent! Sarwen snorted beside her, and a new concern entered Kavila's mind. How did she take care of Sarwen? She didn't think the boys had mentioned anything about supplies for the mare…Sarwen would need food and water, at least. And what was she supposed to do with all the bags? Great, Kavi. You should have known you'd end up in this situation. You're stuck out here alone, with no clue what to do. Somebody's going to figure out that you're not supposed to be here if you stand around gawking.
The men in front of her began to move forward, and Kavila realized that the men behind her would expect her to follow them. She'd just have to see where they were going. Maybe she could copy what they did. As long as I don't have to improvise, I'll be fine. Improvisation is not my strong point.
Kavila sighed with profound relief when she got close enough to realize the men were handing over their horses. With a lot of trial and error, she managed to free the saddle, staggering under the weight of all her supplies. A grinning stableboy took Sarwen, and Kavila barely stopped herself from thanking him. She didn't want to give away her gender, and she doubted she could lower her voice enough to pass for a male.
Turning, she continued to follow the soldiers in front of her. It had worked once, after all; she just hoped fate wasn't going to give up on her yet.
A few hundred paces later the men ahead of her began stopping. At first Kavila wondered what they were doing, and then comprehension dawned: they were setting up tents and fires and, well, making camp. All seemed to be laughing and talking quite amicably; they must have been from the same town. And, Kavila realized with a sinking heart, they were claiming tents in partners. There was no way she, with only a bedroll, was going to be able to fit in with them.
Kavila was once again at a loss for ideas. She wanted to sit down and cry; she was lost, alone, scared out of her wits, and completely out of her depth. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Calm down, Kavi, and think! You've come too far to give up now. Analyze the problem, and then figure out a solution.
She was in an army camp that she was not supposed to be in, where everyone else was busy setting up tents and preparing dinner. She had no tent, no fire, and nowhere to put her bedroll. But she did have the blanket, and she did have food and water. Therefore, unless the weather turned foul, she had the means to survive.
Her friends were here; not just Erin and Adrienne, but Megan and Sarah as well. They were the only people in this camp she could trust, or talk to for advice. Anyone else would immediately recognize her gender, and would report her. Yet as she looked around the camp, she realized just how huge a camp of seven thousand soldiers could be. It would be impossible to locate even one of her four friends.
Kavila felt a wave of hopelessness. There was no way she was going to get through this. The constant stress was wearing her down too much; she couldn't be strong anymore. She didn't want to be strong anymore. For once she wanted somebody to wrap their arms around her and hold her while she cried out her frustration and despair.
That did it; the tears came, and she was unable to stop them. She stumbled wearily into the space between two tents and sank to the ground, letting them flow. She didn't care that she was probably sobbing loudly enough for someone in the nearby tents to hear; she didn't care that she might be discovered.
Suddenly a hand on her shoulder startled her. Kavila tried to stop the tears, heart pounding with sudden fear as she looked up at her discoverer. This was it. As soon as they figured out that she was a girl, they would take her to their commander. Her foolish gamble would be ended.
The face staring down at her was wrinkled but kind. The man had warm brown eyes, Kavila saw. "Come here, boy," he said. "What's wrong?"
"N-n-nothing," Kavila managed. In the next moment she realized with a shock that she had made no attempt to disguise her voice.
The man's eyes widened. "A girl?" he said, straightening up a little in surprise. Kavila just nodded. Denying it would do no good.
The man considered this for a few moments, then nodded to himself as if he had made a decision. "Have you a tent, lass?" he asked. Kavila shook her head. She still didn't trust her voice. "Come back with me, then. I've no companion."
Kavila shook her head a little more vehemently. Share a tent with a strange man? That was just inviting trouble!
The man must have seen her fear in her expression, because he smiled encouragingly. "I meant it kindly, lass. I'll not hurt you."
Kavila started to decline again, but at that moment a gust of wind blew through the space between the tents, chilling her even beneath the cloak. It was still March here, and still cold enough at night to be uncomfortable. Besides, what if a storm came up during the night? She would be out in the open, and everything she had would be drenched, including her food supplies.
At the same time, everything she had ever been taught was urging her to say no. All the normal things every child was lectured about: don't talk to strangers, never go anywhere with strangers, never trust strangers. And then there were the principles of her Hindu heritage, which mandated she wasn't even supposed to have contact with the male gender at her age. Of course, that had been unrealistic, both at school and in the modern world…but her parents would be aghast at the idea of her accepting this stranger's proposal!
Once again Kavila met the eyes of this strange man who had made such tempting overtures of compassion. They were warm, kind, eyes…everything about the man bespoke kindness. She wanted with all her heart to trust the man, even though her every nerve screamed against it. His accent and manner were much like Vilad's.
With a weary sigh, she nodded her acceptance. The man's smile grew, and he bent to pick up her baggage from where she had dropped it. Just as he was about to turn away, he said, "I'm sorry! My name is Hervan."
"I'm Kavila," she said softly, having finally recovered both her voice and her wits after the fright of being exposed.
The man nodded, starting off towards his tent. Kavila had no choice but to follow.
AN HOUR LATER, Erin and Adrienne had finished their chores (with a bit of ingenuity on Adrienne's part), and the two girls were enjoying a meal of bread and cheese inside their tent.
"So, what have we got?" Adrienne asked around a mouthful of the yellow cheese.
"For rations, we've got enough food to last us for about six days, if we eat two reasonable meals a day. Most of it's nonperishables: jerky, dried fruit, and waybread—the normal kind, not lembas. The good bread—" she held up her bread—"and the cheese we'll eat first, before it goes bad."
Adrienne nodded, her mail clanking with the movement. They hadn't dared to take it off, in case someone poked their head in. They hadn't gotten far enough from the city yet to take such risks; it would be too easy to send them back. "What have we got that isn't food?"
"The basics. Soap, waterskin, curry comb, change of clothes, blanket, rope, firestarting kit, and a utility knife. Two of each," Erin replied. "Oh, and we've got the healing stuff you brought."
"Which reminds me, we need to change our bandages," Adrienne said, looking doubtfully around the small tent. They had no lantern, and so were eating in relative darkness. That was not a good way to change bandages.
She got up on her knees and peeked out of the tent. Most of the surrounding tents were dark; everyone knew that there was an early departure the next morning. "I think we can do it outside; there's some light from a nearby fire."
Erin was skeptical. "I'm not undressing out there! What if someone walks by and sees that I'm, well, a girl?"
Adrienne suppressed a chuckle; Erin was fanatically modest sometimes, a trait one quickly lost in color guard, where Adrienne had learned that modesty was overrated. "Just take off everything that keeps me from getting to your bandages, except your tunic. You can just lift that up a little. We can tie the tent flap open and see how much light that gives us."
Erin seemed to accept the necessity of the situation, shivering a little as she took off her upper layers of clothing. Being mid-March, it wasn't particularly warm, either inside the tent or out. That had been nice during the day, since the multiple layers hadn't proven uncomfortably hot; at night, though, it was a bit more of a hindrance.
Adrienne found the cache of medicine and tied open the tent flap. Once her eyes adjusted, she found she could see well enough to do the job, though the conditions were far from ideal. She began to prepare the poultices carefully.
"How do you know what to do?" Erin asked somewhat suspiciously.
"I asked Megan once while she was tending my foot," Adrienne replied. "She explained the whole thing."
Erin remembered the incident. She had listened halfheartedly, but Kavila had been tending to her wound, and that had absorbed most of her attention.
Adrienne finished mixing the herb paste, and looked at Erin's side. The bandage had some dark stains on it, but they seemed small. Adrienne unwrapped the bandage, carefully watching Erin's reactions to her touches. As Adrienne pulled the last bit of bandage from the wound, Erin flinched and drew in a sharp breath. Patches of dried blood dotted her skin, clumping a little around the wound, sticking the bandage to the tender area of her injury like an adhesive. Adrienne grimaced; that must have hurt badly. She was a little worried to see how hers looked, since she thought the wound might have reopened, undoing the three days of mending.
Adrienne pushed that from her mind as she concentrated on binding Erin's injury. She knew she was hurting her friend as she attempted to clean the wound and see if it had reopened; Erin's breathing was shallow and harsh and her eyes squeezed shut.
To Adrienne's dismay, the wound was bleeding. Not freely; the healers' stitching had done its work. But blood was leaking in thin trickles between the stitches. Trying to ignore her friend's obvious discomfort, Adrienne spread the paste she had made over the bleeding spots, hoping that would stem it. Erin couldn't afford any more blood loss. Back on Earth, she probably would have been getting a blood transfusion by now.
Unfortunately, Adrienne doubted even Lord Elrond himself had discovered blood transfusions. Once the salve was in place, Adrienne carefully began wrapping a clean bandage around the wound, tying it tightly. Pressure was another way to help stop the blood flow. When she had finished, she gave Erin a reassuring smile. "I'm done."
Erin grinned back weakly. Her face was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and she was still catching her breath. "Your turn," she said in as cheerful a tone as she could muster.
Adrienne suppressed a groan. "I can do this by myself, I think," she told her friend. "Unlike with your wound, I can reach it easily."
Erin nodded a little. "I'll be right here if you need any help," she said.
Adrienne paid her little attention. Her full concentration was on getting her boot off as painlessly as possible…which was not very painlessly, even with all the laces undone. Her muscles were still healing, and the bulky bandage only exacerbated the problem. After several agonizing moments Adrienne slid the leather over the bandage and off her foot, groaning in relief. However, her relief was soon overshadowed by a greater worry: her foot was bleeding profusely, judging by the look of the bandages. With a grimace half of pain, and half of distaste, Adrienne unwrapped the soaked bandage. As the last scrap of fabric came away, Erin gasped behind her. "Adrienne, that looks horrible!"
"That's because it is," Adrienne retorted through gritted teeth. "Get me some water and a clean rag." When Erin had complied, Adrienne quickly worked to clean the wound. The pressure of the tight boot had helped somewhat to curb the bleeding, but now that the boot and bandage were removed, the wound was bleeding freely. Riding all day with gravity pulling all her blood toward her foot probably hadn't helped the situation.
Adrienne applied the poultice and tied the clean bandage as tightly as she could manage. Then she placed her saddle at the foot of her blanket and lay back, resting her foot on the saddle so that it was elevated. Hopefully that too would help ease the bleeding. She could only pray it stopped by morning.
Erin reached for the waterskin holding the pain medication, passing it to Adrienne before taking a sip herself. No more than that; a drug-induced sleep might make them miss the call in the morning. Erin was sure she would miss it anyway; she slept too deeply. But Adrienne was a light sleeper and would wake with the rest of the camp.
Erin reached up and untied the tent flap, returning the tent interior to darkness. Despite their pain, she and Adrienne were soon asleep.
DURING THE walk to Hervan's tent, neither he nor Kavila said a word. He seemed to respect her wish to remain undiscovered, and her need to sort out her whirling thoughts. She couldn't believe she had said yes to his offer! Her parents would kill her if they ever found out! And yet she wanted so much to trust this man…he had a fatherly air about him.
Resolutely she turned her thoughts away from Hervan. Doubtlessly he would ask her many questions when they reached his tent, and she had to figure out what to tell him. She obviously could not reveal her true origins; she didn't think Hervan would be as inclined to believe the tale as Gandalf or Aragorn had been. But Hervan did present an interesting and tempting opportunity for help in her search.
A few minutes later Hervan paused beside a tent. Kavila wondered how he knew it was his; every tent in the row looked exactly alike. But he stepped confidently inside with her gear, and there was nothing she could do but follow.
Hervan was moving his possessions to the left side of the tent as Kavila entered. He grinned at her as she sat rather uncertainly on the right side. "You can spread your bedroll out there, lass," he said. Kavila reached for the rolled-up blanket and worked at deciphering the clasps.
When she finished laying her blanket out, she realized with a brief pang of fear that Hervan was watching her. He's just trying to figure me out, she told herself. He doesn't know anything about me or why I'm here. But the scrutiny sent off warning bells in her mind.
"You aren't very familiar with your gear, are you, lass?" he asked her suddenly, breaking the tense silence.
"No," Kavila replied without thinking, wincing at how it sounded as she sat down on the blanket. I'm a complete novice, and I've got no clue what I'm doing here, was what she had revealed to him in that monosyllabic answer.
Hervan handed her some food and her waterskin. Kavila's stomach growled audibly. She hadn't eaten lunch, since she hadn't known where to find it in her packs. Hervan's next question was quite predictable. "What are you here for, lass?"
Predictable or not, the question made Kavila wince inwardly. How to explain this without giving away too much?
"Um…I…I'm from Minas Tirith," she began, breaking off a piece of bread. "Two of my friends were hurt in the battle there, and were forbidden from coming along here. They're in no condition to be here. I was taking care of them in the Houses of Healing, and they snuck out on me. They're somewhere in the army here, and I'm trying to find them."
Hervan nodded a little. "You aren't from Minas Tirith." he stated matter-of-factly.
Kavila couldn't hide her chagrin as she reached for her waterskin. She never had been a good liar. "Don't ask me about that," she pleaded, but he shook his head.
"I ought to know who I am sharing my tent with," he said. "I'd rather not wake in the middle of the night with a knife at my throat."
"I would never do that!" Kavila exclaimed, her eyes wide as she choked on her water. Hervan laughed outright at her expression.
"And I believe you now. You would have to be a talented spy indeed to conjure an expression like that!" he said. "Though the color of your skin is the same as that of some soldiers of the Enemy."
Kavila nodded. His suspicion was understandable. "Perhaps they're not evil at heart, but fight because they're forced to," she said.
"Perhaps," Hervan said, and then fell silent. Kavila swallowed hard; she wanted to ask him something, but wasn't sure how to phrase it.
"Can…can I stay with you, just until I find my friends?" she asked finally. The uncertainty on her face must have showed through, because Hervan smiled warmly.
"Of course you may. I would be heartless if I were to cast out one so young," he replied. "How old are you, lass?"
"Um…17 years old," Kavila opted for the truth, watching his reaction nervously as she started in on the cheese.
Hervan's eyebrows rose a little. "Seventeen, and unmarried?" he asked. When she nodded, he shook his head. Kavila stifled a laugh at the reaction. "And are your friends also young women?"
Kavila sighed. "Yeah. But I'm sure they did a much better job of not getting noticed."
"Why is that?" Hervan asked.
"Um…they've read about all this stuff and they've gone camping before, so they know what they're doing. Better than I do, at least. Although I'm not sure what they'll do about their injuries." she replied.
"How serious are their wounds?" he asked, brows creased in thought.
"Adrienne's wasn't too bad, compared to most; she had a knife cut right here in her ankle," Kavila pointed to the spot on her own foot. "Erin's was worse. She had a slash across her left side. She lost a lot of blood, and was really weak."
Hervan nodded. "Do you know what area of the army they are in?"
"They're on horses, I know that. I saw them leaving the stables," Kavila answered, her disgust at not catching them then evident in her voice.
Hervan, however, was grinning. "That will make it easier to find them, then! Finish your meal, and then I will show you how to care for your tack. Then we will sleep, and tomorrow we will begin the search!"
MEGAN AND Sarah rode throughout the day at the head of the army, talking and bantering with the Lords. Much of the laughter and smiles were strained, as the griefs of the Pelennor remained fresh in many minds. Legolas and Gimli, riding next to Megan and Sarah, were the best company. Their endless bickering sent ripples of mirth throughout the entire group.
Late in the afternoon the infantry stopped to camp, and the horsemen continued on for several miles until they came to the Crossroads. The lush forests of Ithilien surrounded it, dark in the dimming light of evening. Wildflowers dotted the ground, heedless of the nearby evil of Minas Morgul, knowing only that it was spring.
As Megan surveyed the scenery she became aware of angry shouts coming from some of the men. At the edge of the Crossroads stood a stone carving of a man seated upon a regal throne. Once, she thought, it would have been a commanding statue. But now the old king's head was gone, resting upon the ground with a wreath of white and yellow flowers. In its place sat a rough carving of a head with a single eye, its features covered with hideous scrawls in the tongue of Mordor. In fact, Megan noticed, the graffiti was engraved upon the entire figure.
The Lords' faces showed their anger clearly. When Aragorn spoke, his voice was clipped. "We shall camp here." Faramir led a group of Rangers to scout the area, and the rest of the cavalry set about making camp. Some men, under the orders of Imrahil, set about cleaning the filthy work of the Orcs off the statue, replacing the old king's head. When they finished he sat tall and intact once more, keeping solitary vigil over the straight road from Osgiliath, the crown of flowers shining in the fading light of day.
Kalva had refused (politely, of course) to pitch his tent among those of the Lords. He had, however, insisted that Megan and Sarah remain with the Lords, where they would be better protected. The Lords' tents stood in the center of the camp, and though each was a renowned warrior in his own right, their status and importance made them valuable targets.
Megan and Sarah pitched their plain army tent between the giant, flag-adorned command tent and the similarly ordinary tent of Legolas and Gimli. The tent turned out to be quite similar to modern ones, though decidedly less complicated in assembly. Megan supposed there wasn't too much you could do to change the design of a simple, one-room tent; you could alter the fabric and the type of poles to give it more strength, but the general assembly wouldn't change. With a little good-natured help from Legolas the two girls were soon inside their tent, enjoying a small but filling meal of solders' rations. The army had brought no cooks; they did not expect to need food after the battle.
"I wonder how everybody's doing back home," Sarah mused aloud.
"I bet they're very confused," Megan answered with a small smile. "After all, we disappeared in the middle of class."
Sarah looked a little surprised. "Oh, no, I meant Minas Tirith." She laughed ruefully. "I'm already thinking of Minas Tirith as home."
Megan didn't laugh. She didn't think the idea of Minas Tirith as home was particularly good. Much as she enjoyed learning and living in Middle Earth, she didn't want to spend her life here. She clung tenaciously to the hope that Gandalf would eventually find a way to get them home.
A call from outside broke the uncomfortable silence. Megan reached up and opened the tent flap to reveal familiar golden hair. "Gandalf has asked that you be present in the command tent," Legolas said. Megan and Sarah shared a look. The command tent? Megan shrugged and stepped into the night air, and Sarah followed.
When they reached the large tent, they ducked quickly inside the lamplit doorway. Inside the Lords were hunched over a long table spread with maps. Gandalf nodded at them briefly as they entered, joining Pippin in the corner. A few of the other Lords looked up with brief expressions of distaste, as if they did not approve of women (dressed for battle, nonetheless) being present for this discussion. Megan fought down a stab of annoyance as she concentrated on the men's words.
"We should take back the Morgul Vale while we are near," Prince Imrahil was saying. "The Nazgul Lord is overthrown and its garrisons emptied, whereas we shall be fresh and strong when the infantry arrives tomorrow morn. We should strike now, when the attack is least expected."
"The pass there is less well-guarded than the Morannon," a blond-haired man in the uniform of the Rohirrim put in. Megan knew his name was Elfhelm, and he was Eomer's second-in-command; he had ridden with them during the day. "It would be less difficult to enter Mordor through there."
Gandalf and Aragorn exchanged glances, and then Gandalf shot a pointed look in Megan and Sarah's direction, as if to say "Well?" Megan realized then why Gandalf had asked Legolas to bring them in. He had known this topic would be discussed, and had wanted to make sure the "correct" decision was made. He wanted them to guide this debate in the direction it was supposed to go according to the books. Megan returned the wizard's stare with one of her own glares, annoyed at his manipulations.
Suddenly Sarah spoke up beside her. "How do you know the pass isn't well-guarded?" she said, as all heads turned to regard her with surprise. "Have you sent scouts?"
Imrahil frowned. "It has no Black Gate."
"It has a tower full of Orcs, doesn't it?" Sarah continued. Megan cringed inwardly. Don't say anything about Shelob, please don't…Their knowledge of the giant spider would only bring suspicion on them. "Besides, Sauron must know about this pass. It's the only other way into Mordor. Do you really think he isn't going to make a greater effort to guard it?"
Faramir's brows creased thoughtfully. "I have heard tales of a dark terror that dwells in the mountain pass of Cirith Ungol."
"Aren't Orcs terror enough?" Pippin said softly next to Megan. She rested a hand on his shoulder in comfort, feeling his shivers of fear as he remembered his own captivity in the hands of the Orcs.
Gandalf spoke up. "If Frodo has truly passed that way, it would be unwise to draw attention there, for such a move would endanger the one advantage we seek to preserve."
Even Elfhelm and Imrahil nodded in agreement. Now Aragorn spoke. "Yet I would not leave this stronghold wholly intact," he said. "I will ride with Gandalf on the morn, and look upon it, and perhaps leave behind a reminder of our passing."
Then the discussion turned to other subjects of a more casual nature, as friends rejoiced in their time together, dismissing for awhile the cares that had plagued them for so long. When Megan and Sarah returned at last to their tent the moon was high in the sky.
THE DAY AFTER, being the third day since they set out from Minas Tirith, the army began its northward march along the road. It was some hundred miles by that way from the Cross Roads to the Morannon, and what might befall them before they came so far none knew. They went openly but heedfully, with mounted scouts before them on the road, and others on foot upon either side, especially on the eastward flank; for there lay dark thickets, and a tumbled land of rocky ghylls and crags, behind which the long grim slopes of the Ephel Duath clambered up. The weather of the world remained fair, and the wind held in the west, but nothing could waft away the glooms and the sad mists that clung about the Mountains of Shadow; and behind them at whiles great smokes would arise and hover in the upper winds.
Ever and anon Gandalf let blow the trumpets, and the heralds would cry: "The Lords of Gondor are come! Let all leave this land or yield them up!" But Imrahil said: "Say not The Lords of Gondor. Say The King Elessar. For that is true, even though he has not yet sat upon the throne; and it will give the Enemy more thought, if the heralds use that name." And thereafter thrice a day the heralds proclaimed the coming of the King Elessar. But none answered the challenge.
-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien