Jnían quietly watched Andúin disappear into the city. She stood at a halt in the middle of the field outside the city. Hwesta began to sing a tune that livened the air. They dismounted and let Amáteria graze for a bit. Hwesta started to pick herbs and plants for his medicines, and put them in his little satchel.
"Halt, right there," a voice suddenly commanded. Jnían startled, turning around. She saw three soldiers galloping towards them.
"Come, Hwesta," Jnían said, her voice remaining calm as she motioned back towards Amáteria.
"Yes, Mi'Lady," he answered, following her. She picked him up and climbed onto Amáteria. They began to ride faster and faster towards Osgiliath. They didn't get very far, though, when Jnían was confronted by the people of the garrison. She quickly pulled her dark hood up to cover her features from the people.
"Look, there be another one!" one of the townspeople yelled, motioning towards her. "Get him!" The soldiers behind Jnían were closing off their only hope of escape, and the mob was advancing from the front. She looked past the crowd, observing a fog bank beginning to form over the river behind them. Jnían veered off to the left and pushed Amáteria faster still towards the fog. The soldiers were close on her tail, but the mob ran only on foot, and eventually stopped following her. Jnían circled around and soon Minas Tirith was again before her. Hwesta suddenly sprinkled a fine dust over himself, her, and Amáteria. Jnían was puzzled, then heard the cease of the soldiers' horses' footsteps. She brought Amáteria to a halt, and then turned to look behind her. The soldiers stared directly at her, but with blank looks across their faces, their horses halted.
"Hwesta, what did you do?" Jnían inquired of the small creature.
"Just a bit of magic, Mi'Lady," he replied innocently. "They can't see us, you see."
"Come then, we should wait near the gate for Andúin," Jnían said, again feeling honored by the creature's presence.
Andúin walked up the path on foot. She had a lot of time to think of how she could get Alata from the royal stables and escape the city avoiding notice. She decided her best chance was to go around the courtyard as she had before by way of the mountain itself.
She continued about the city, happy for once to not have anyone watching her as they normally did. She finally made it to the courtyard gates. She could feel a dull pain now beginning to throb in her injured leg from walking the seven levels, but ground her teeth against the pain, praying it would not complicate her escape any.
She strode over to the edge of the cliff. She could only see two guards standing watch at the gate, and both were deep in a conversation, unnoticing of her presence. She put her legs delicately over the edge, and then carefully lowered the rest of her body. She tried to find the ledge for her hands as she had last time, but it seemed to have broken away.
Andúin was forced to trust her balance and walk along the small ledge, leaning her weight against the cliff side without a handhold. She still desperately ran her hands along the rough edge of the rock face, though, looking for something. She slowly moved along, trying to keep her balance. Soon, she was right beneath the heavy gate. A sudden gust of cold wind whipped up the side of the wall, and she started, loosing her balance. She began to fall backwards, and everything felt to be moving in slow motion, but she threw all of her weight forward, back into the hard rock. She slammed off of the wall, and the pain in her leg tripled as she let out a small yelp.
It was too much to handle, having the rock and her sword pressing into her leg. But she couldn't bring herself to move. The wind whipped against her again, only harder. A storm was coming. She looked up at the gray sky just as it lit up with lightening, and a deafening crack of thunder. She jumped, this time not being able to stop the fall that resulted. She slipped down the rock face, her gloved fingers barely grabbing the spot her feet had been a mere second ago. She hung there, feeling helpless, her feet dangling a least a hundred feet above the level of the city below her.
The situation did not seem to be improving itself, either. Instead of standing on the thin ledge, she hung from it, and her wonderful sword was now becoming quite a burden, its heavy weight pulling her down. She tried to edge along, feeling with her feet for another place to stand. But her hands finally came across a wide ledge, and she pulled herself up onto this instead, leaning again on the rock, her breath coming in short gasps.
She moved the remainder of the way carefully along the ledge, finally coming to the end. She pulled herself back up from the wall and into the courtyard. It had never looked to friendly. She walked quietly through the courtyard, hoping against all hopes that no one would look from the castle and question her. The only living thing she saw, though, were the four guards standing sentinel beside the blossoming white tree, their faces as emotionless as ever. She knew they would say nothing, considering she was not attacking the tree, and that was the only thing that ever made them react. She chanced a quick look back over her shoulder and across Pelennor. Jnían was no where in sight, but she could barely make out what she expected to be Captain Thalion and his men. She hoped it had nothing to do with Jnían.
She walked over to the stables, quietly opening the large doors. But directly on the other side was Ereb, the small stable boy. He jumped up from where he appeared to be dozing some hey, looking at her with large brown eyes. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, his voice cracking slightly.
"Don't be frightened, stable boy," she said in her deeper voice. "I have come for the Lady Andúin's stallion. It is needed."
"I can't just give you Alata," Ereb said, his voice more defiant. "Lady Andúin has to give me permission herself."
If only he knew, Andúin sighed to herself. "She won't be back for quite some time, I'm afraid, son, and this is an emergency," Andúin said to the young man. "We need the horse." She hated that it had to come to this, but she had already wasted enough time. She drew Andúril, a display of authority. Ereb fell back against a wall of the stable, unarmed. Andúin walked up to Alata's stall, keeping an eye on the boy. Alata instantly recognized her, and began to enthusiastically neigh. She grabbed her nearby saddle, laying her sword down near her feet, though Ereb made no attempt to move. She quickly fixed Alata for the journey, and then mounted him.
"Sorry for this, Ereb," she said as she stopped near the boy, using her normal voice and giving a small smile. "But thank you." She galloped from the stable, leaving Ereb puzzled and unknowing. She didn't slow down as she flew through the courtyard, wielding her sword in her right hand as she approached the gate. She sliced through the large bar holding it shut, and then rushed through the gate, leaving the guards shocked as she disappeared into the city.
Jnían jumped when Andúin burst through the gate. But Hwesta's spell was still working, and Andúin continued to ride right past them.
"Andúin stop!" Jnían shouted as she passed. Andúin immediately stopped, drawing her sword out of instinct.
"Jnían?" Andúin asked in a confused voice. "Where are you?"
"Over here," Jnían said, giggling a bit. She couldn't help herself. "Hwesta—"
But he already knew what she was going to say. "Of course, Mi'Lady," he said, chuckling a bit himself. Soon, Hwesta, Jnían, and Amáteria were once again visible. The girls brought their horses beside each other and they began to leave Minas Tirith behind them. Andúin was definitely in a hurry.
"What took you?" Jnían asked Andúin, still laughing a bit.
"Well," Andúin began to laugh as well with her friend, "Let's just say I had a slight fall back."
Nightfall found Andúin and Jnían talking around their campfire. Hwesta again picked herbs, singing yet another tune. Andúin lifted a piece of bread into her mouth, grateful for the food.
They were all beginning to relax for a night's rest when a familiar voice filled the campsite. "Young ladies," a sickeningly sweet voice sounded. Jnían and Andúin both startled at the sound. They spun around towards the voice and stared into the familiar cold face of Lhach. A man came into view from opposite them, carrying a struggling Hwesta under his right arm. Jnían quickly unsheathed Ranafëa, standing, Andúin falling suite. But there were more men in the darkness around them, and one rushed forward, grabbing Andúin from behind. She struggled with the man for a moment, and then gave him a quick jab in the gut with her left elbow. She wheeled to face him, sword held in a knight's stance above her head. Their swords struck one another, a loud crack echoing in the night's silence. The second time they struck, Andúin collapsed to the ground, clutching her leg. Her enemy gave a satisfied sneer, raising his sword above her. As it came down, Jnían sprinted forward with lightening fast reflexes belonging only to those of her kind, catching the man's blade on her own.
Jnían began to swing rapidly with Ranafëa at the now group of men coming from the shielding darkness into the circle of light cast by their fire. She spun, her sword now brought against Lhach's. He was easily matching her blow for blow, and Jnían was becoming more and more frustrated. Andúin lay near her on the ground, her fallen sword at her side. One of the other men grabbed it, laughing. She clutched her leg, and with gritting teeth stood back up, ignoring the pain.
The man looked at her, wielding Andúril in his left hand and his own blade in his right. But she was determined not to let this bandit have Andúril at all. She lunged at him, swinging her fists rhythmically to the sound of Jnían and Lhach's clashing blades. She finally caught the side of the man's face when an opening presented itself. The surprise blow sent the man backwards, staggering on his feet. He came back at her almost instantly, furious, wielding both swords in rage. Andúin nimbly dodged the blades, which he was becoming reckless with in his current state, biding her time for another opening. She didn't have to wait long, and soon she slammed him with a spinning back hook kick, upper cutting into his throat. Taking advantage of her airborne moment, she did a simple front kick with her other leg, landing her boot squarely in the man's chest. He fell backwards, stunned and surprised. He landed hard on the ground, releasing both swords. She walked over calmly and retrieved her own sword from the ground, then swung it around her head, and bringing it down sharply into the man's chest.
Meanwhile, Jnían had managed to elude Lhach and fight several of the other opponents surrounding her. Her fighting style seemed almost a dance, fast, graceful, and smooth, the common style of her people. It was highly effective, and opponent after opponent fell to the ground at her feet.
The two were able to slay a quarter of their attackers, and the others soon retreated, disappearing into the night. Lhach was among them. Andúin limped over to Jnían, her breathing heavy. "Why do you think they came back?" she inquired between breaths.
"They probably never left Gondor," Jnían replied. "They still need the second clue, after all. Andúin, are you alright?" she asked suddenly as Andúin reached down, clutching her leg as a look of agony tore across her face.
"I believe I overused it," she said through clenched teeth, but managed a small smile. "Oh bother, it is becoming very irking. I can no longer let it handicap me or the mission." She stood up straight, sheathing her sword. "We need to work on the clue, after all."
"Hwesta said he would help translate it," Jnían said, turning and looking from side to side. "Wait, where is Hwesta?"
"Hwesta!" Jnían began calling.
"Here, Mi'Lady," a small voice mumbled. Hwesta appeared, applying pressure to his small left arm. Blood trickled from under his hand.
"Come here," Jnían requested gently. She pulled some herbs from her own pouch. "You as well, Andúin," she said, motioning to her friend. Both moved forward and sat before the Elf. Jnían tore pieces of cloth from along the bottom of her dress.
"Hold still, Hwesta," Jnían commanded. He groaned as Jnían cleaned the wound and applied a healing salve made from her herbs. She then gently wrapped his arm in a strip of cloth.
"Thank you kindly," Hwesta managed, giving her a weak smile.
"Andúin, you must tell me where it hurts," Jnían said calmly to the other girl, exposing her leg. She ran her hand over Andúin's thigh, feeling for any tender spots.
Andúin's leg suddenly jerked from the pressure. "There," she muttered as Jnían touched the skin again with the same result.
"Close your eyes, Andúin," Jnían said. She placed a hand on Andúin's knee and another on her ankle, and then yanked hard. A loud crack came, and Andúin cried out in pain. "You'll have to go easy on it tomorrow, but it should be alright," Jnían stated, a little proudly. "You've torn some muscles behind your knee and you've dislocated the joint, though the latter I just fixed." She pulled out a small plant, placing it in Andúin's hand. "Eat this, it will ease the pain."
"You certainly do come in handy," Andúin managed a weak laugh.
"We should sleep, we have a long day ahead of us," Hwesta suggested. "Goodnight, misses."
The three of them awoke at the break of dawn with Aátrius's cry ringing in the air. "How is your leg, Andúin?" Jnían asked her as Andúin rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
"Wonderful, thanks to you," Andúin pulled Jnían into an embrace.
"Without any further a due," Hwesta started, "The next clue." He took the piece of parchment from Jnían's hand, peering over it for a second. "Um, Mi'lady, you wouldn't happen to have the translation guide to this?" he asked her sheepishly. Jnían handed it to him, and being a Master of Languages, he quickly had it translated. With perfect posture, he climbed upon a large stone and began to read the clue aloud.