A/N: Heres chappy twenty-one! I hope that you guys enjoy it. :)
Reviews
To Lothiriel: I'm glad that you liked Morwen and Galen's part; and I enjoyed writing about the Orc's! Thanks for reviewing:-D
To Cindy: Thanks for the pointer and the review!
And now to the story...
Early in the morning Faramir was awakened from his sleep by the sound of someone entering his tent; he hoped that it wasn't Sherah or Selwyn, but in some sense he was happier that it was Selwyn instead of the man from Harad.
"Does he know that you are not half-Elven?" Selwyn asked, cutting to the chase.
"I see no reason why I should answer to you," Faramir said.
"But you will learn to answer to me-and you will learn the hard way," said Selwyn, placing a well aimed blow near Faramir's ribs.
The Ranger groaned in pain, for his wounds had not completely healed.
Selwyn smirked arrogantly; "You will learn to submit to me, for if you do not then I could hand you over to Sherah so that he could sell you to Mordor," now tell me, said Selwyn, "Does he know that you are not half Elven?"
"Yes," Faramir replied.
Selwyn could hear the anger in his voice, but he figured that as long as he threatened to hand over to Sherah then Faramir would be obedient to him.
"That is much better," said Selwyn. "I am guessing that you are hungry."
A part of Faramir wanted to act proud and refuse the food, but he just couldn't seem to go through with it, so instead, he managed a small nod.
Selwyn turned around and called to one of the elves:
"Jaylyn, bring some bread and water for the prisoner."
Jaylyn soon entered the tent, carrying the bread and water that Selwyn had asked for.
"Cut off the rope so that he can eat," Selwyn ordered after Jaylyn had set the bread and water down.
The elf took a knife that was attached to his belt, and with an evil gleam in his eye, cut the ropes off of Faramir—but not without intentionally cutting Faramir's wrists also.
The cuts were not very deep, so they would not cause unstoppable bleeding, but he had cut them deep enough to cause the Stewards son terrible pain.
000
Eomer and the soldiers of Gondor had ridden tirelessly and without rest so that Boromir, Captain of Gondor would make it to Minas Tirith before it was too late. Eomer had felt guilty for what had happened to Boromir, for he had never intended for him to get wounded, and he hoped that Boromir would be alright—and he also hoped that Eowyn was alright, for he had no way of knowing that for certain.
Although Boromir's pulse seemed to be weakening by the hour, it appeared that he would be able to hold on long enough for them to reach Minas Tirith so that he could get the medical help that he needed.
As they began to see glimpses of the sun, they also saw something else that gave them undying hope: Minas Tirith.
Eomer sighed with relief for now he knew that they would make it after all.
(o) (o) (o)
While Eomer and the soldiers of Gondor were making their way across the Pelennor, Norah was in the houses of healing, for a servant had taken sick and she had volunteered to pick up the herbs for her.
As she walked through the gardens, she began to think of lady Eowyn and Boromir; in some sense she hoped that Boromir would find Eowyn, but another part of her wished that Eowyn would be bale to escape to Mirkwood never to be found by her husband.
She let out a heavy sigh: she pitied Boromir, for just like Eowyn, he did not choose to marry her but he was forced to; to Norah, the only difference between the two of them was that he was willing to give their marriage a try so that they would not have to live in misery till the end of their days. But Eowyn did not even want to try—she chose to run away to a foreign land.
It had taken her a little while to find the correct herbs, for some of them were unfamiliar to her, but as soon as she was about to leave she heard a commotion: it was the sounds of men and healers all talking at the same time. Norah put down the basket that she was carrying and rushed to the entrance; she could see Gondorian soldiers and they seemed to be carrying someone, but the healers were unknowingly blocking her view. Despite the commotion, Norah could make out some of the conversation, and when she truly understood who was wounded she wanted to faint.
"He was wounded by an Orc blade and arrow—we rode through the night so that he could make it here before it was too late," said Eomer as he ran an anxious hand through his hair.
"We cannot lose our Captain," stressed one soldier.
"I will break the news to lord Denethor," said another, who sounded just as grieved as the others.
Norah now knew that Boromir had been wounded, and she made her way through the frantic healers and saw him; he was obviously unconscious, and he was wounded badly. Norah knew that there had to be something that she could do-she was determined to save his life.
000
Marcus and his men stopped to rest; they had been journeying without cease.
Marcus had decided that they would set their course for Osgiliath first, for if Faramir had deserted his men then it was believed that he would be trying to make his way out of Gondor.
Although the other soldiers were exhausted, Marcus did not seem to need any rest; instead he sat by a small stream and just enjoyed his own company; he began to wonder why Faramir had deserted his men; for he had known Faramir to be an honorable man who would rather dire than even consider desertion, but Marcus knew that since Gelmir was the only one who supposedly witnessed the desertion, then they would just have to take his word for it.
And if Gelmir was right, then Marcus would have no choice but to agree to have justice be served upon Faramir, for he would be angered if Faramir did not have to pay the price for desertion just because he was the Stewards son; but the price was a heavy price to pay: Death.
He was jerked out of his thoughts when he heard someone approaching; when he looked up he was relieved to see that it wasn't Laddyn. Instead it was his best friend, Gybren.
"I did not mean to interrupt your quiet time," said Gybren; "but when you left you seemed quite disturbed about something."
"Do you think that it is wise of the Steward to take Gelmir at his word?" Marcus asked his blond companion.
"I could never trust that snake; but perhaps he is telling the truth this time, for I do not know how he could make up something like that."
"It is easy for men like Gelmir to make up all sorts of things."
"But if he was lying do you not think that lord Faramir would be in Minas Tirith at this very moment?"
"Perhaps you are right—what you are saying does make sense," said Marcus.
000
Faramir grimaced as Jaylyn intentionally cut his wrists; he was not sure if Selwyn had seen what Jaylyn had done, but by the look on the raven-haired elf's face, he knew that he had seen it but had chosen to do nothing.
"That should be enough to nourish you until we see fit to feed you again," said Selwyn as he turned to leave.
Jaylyn wanted to kill the Gondorian; he had done it before for a woman—the same woman, Tatiana; she had loved a Gondorian and he had killed him in a very slow, brutal way.
He had almost paid for it with his life, because that night after he had committed the murder, Tatiana came into his tent and almost stabbed him to death, but he was able to fight her off despite the fact that he was badly wounded. It was he who had first said that she was not born but made from the fire of Mount Doom, and that terminology had spread around the camp.
Tatiana had fallen in love with a Gondorian before, and he was not going to let it happen again; he saw the way that Faramir looked into her eyes, it disgusted him and he was going to make Faramir wish that he had never been born.
"Enjoy your scraps swine," he sneered at Faramir; but before he could respond to the elf's remark, Jaylyn had left the tent.
000
When Eowyn awakened from her sleep, she realized that Strider was nowhere to be seen; thinking quickly, she roused Arial.
"What is it my lady?" asked the elf; he didn't sound too bothered, considering the fact that she had just awakened him from his deep sleep.
"Where is Strider?" she asked anxiously.
"I do not know," replied the elf, sitting up and taking in his surroundings.
"I am right here," answered a male voice.
Eowyn had come to recognize it; and she became more and more grateful that she had met him; for thanks to him they were getting closer and closer to Mirkwood.
"Where were you?" she asked, getting up and turning to face him.
"I was exploring to make sure that it was safe to travel by day, and by the looks of things, if we set out now then we should reach the field of Celebrant by tonight."
"I am well rested so I would be able to journey that far; but what about you Arial?" asked Eowyn.
"I think that I could make it my lady," said Arial.
After they had washed their faces and eaten a small meal, they set off again, and they seemed to travel faster than usual, for they could see the finishing line: Mirkwood.
000
He was surrounded by cruel Orc's who were ready to lunge at him at moment; but he held his ground.
He was Aranel, a soldier of Mirkwood, and the brother of an Elven-man who lived far away in the realm of Gondor; he drew his sword and looked fearlessly at the Orc's.
They lunged at him in unison, but he was too quick and began to kill them by either slicing off their heads or piercing them with his sword.
But there were too many for a single elf to fight: he knew that his fellow elves were looking for him, but he could not run now-he had to stay and fight, for if he ran then an Orc might attack him from behind.
He began to dispatch more than he had expected, but not without paying a price: he was had cuts and gashes on his arm and torso, but he persevered; but finally, when there were about twenty-two Orc's left, he began to weaken for he had lost a lot of blood; he could hear a familiar voice calling his name and that gave him hope.
But not enough; suddenly, a large Orc took him off guard and sliced his sword across Aranel's stomach.
The elf let out a cry of pain before falling to the ground and losing consciousness.
Just as the Orc's were going to kill him, an arrow whizzed through the air, killing an Orc; this alarmed the others, and for a moment they stood still. And then, that arrow was followed by another, and another. The Orc's were terrified of the enemy that they couldn't see, but their Captain barked at them:
"Hold your ground!" even though he too wanted to run.
After several other Orc's had fallen victim to the mysterious archer, then he emerged.
He moved so quickly that it was impossible for Orc's to stop him: he took the fallen elf's sword and began to slay them, even as they tried to run; he left none alive.
When they were all dead, he rushed over the Aranel's side, and examined his wounds: they were very bad and he had lost a lot of blood, and he was not equipped with any herbs that would help him. He hoped that he would be able to take him to safety before it was too late…
COMING UP IN FUTURE CHAPTERS:
Is it too late for Aranel?
And Norah makes a surprising confession to Boromir