A/N: Thanks to all of those who read the last chappy--whether they reviewed or not. Anyway, I hope that you guys enjoy this chappy.

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Uncertain Fates

"And what are we to do with her Elven companion?" One of the soldiers asked.

Denethor seemed thoughtful for a moment; "You may kill him if you wish—especially if he tries to get in the way of you retrieving her. For if he is brought back to Minas Tirith alive, he will not even face trial—he shall be put to death, that is final."

"As you wish, my lord," replied the loyal soldier.

"Good; I am grateful to have such loyal soldiers who will fulfill their duty just as I ask of them; you are all excused now," said Denethor, wanting some time alone.

000

The next morning, Boromir awakened to find someone dabbing a cool cloth on his forehead; when he opened his eyes, they met Norah's worried ones.

"My lord, I was worried for you—are you alright?" she asked.

"Yes, I feel alright; what are you doing here?" he asked, rubbing his forehead a little; he had a mild headache, and he soon realized that he had quite a temperature. But him being a Captain of Gondor, he still maintained some kind of pride, which he would lose only in death.

"Are you sure, my lord? You appear to be feverish."

"I assure you that I feel just fine, Norah," he said, looking at her intently.

Once again there was an uncomfortable silence, which neither broke for a little while.

"Well my lord," Norah said, eventually breaking the silence; "I suppose that I should go now and let you rest."

As she turned to leave, Boromir stopped her by taking a gentle, but firm hold of her slender wrist.

The chestnut-haired maiden turned around and stared into his face.

"I have been 'resting' for too long; besides, I could use your company."

Norah found it almost impossible to say no to, so she sat down and kept the lord of Gondor company.

000

Earlier that night, while Boromir was sleeping soundly, Eowyn and Arial were blindfolded, and were being led firmly but not harshly, through the forest of Mirkwood.

"We should have stayed and listened to Strider!" Eowyn thought. "Why didn't we stay!"

She could see nothing, for the blindfold was thick; she wished that she could at least know where they were going, for even though she usually loved the unknown, for she knew not what life would be without some kind of mystery, this time she felt differently; she hated the unknown.

0-0

Strider, being a Ranger, was able to find their footprints and follow their trail in almost no time at all. Soon, he too passed by the tree where Aranel had once been with his companion, the Prince of Mirkwood.

Also, since he had spent most of his life with the elves, he had had a chance to learn their stealthy skills and agility. He darted through the forest as though he were an elf himself; although it took him a little while until they were in sight, he finally could see glimpses of elves; he did not know where else Eowyn and Arial could be if they were not with the elves, for he had followed their footprints, and had read the ground: all the evidence pointed to the elves; they had to be with the elves.

0-0

As Eowyn was being led along, she stumbled on a tree branch that had broken off and had fallen to the ground.

She felt firm hands help her to her feet; she was not sure whether she should thank the elf, for these were still the same elves that had taken them captive; she wished that she and Arial had put up more of a fight, for to her, Arial had now delayed finding his brother who was obviously in danger.

And what if the elves sent them out of the forest; where would they go?

Suddenly, the elves stopped walking; one of the elves had heard something—or someone.

"I could hear footsteps, my lord; I am not exaggerating," he said firmly.

"I am sure that you heard what you claim, Thoden," the leader said. "But we must continue nonetheless, if we are to reach lord Thranduil's palace tonight."

"Yes my lord," said Thoden.

And so they continued the long, exhausting walk to King Thranduil's palace; until they heard a man's voice coming from behind.

"Legolas!" the man called, trying to the Prince's attention.

He succeeded; the Prince of Mirkwood ordered his fellow elves to stop and walked to the man.

To both Eowyn and Arial, the voice had sounded familiar, but one could never always be certain.

"Aragorn!" the elf exclaimed, embracing his long-time friend; "What brings you back to the Woodland realm so soon? I thought you said that you were going to Gondor on an errand," said the elf, surprised to see him, but not unhappy in the least.

"It is good to see you also, my friend; there was a change in my plans—I cannot stay here long, though."

"Well father will receive you with open arms nonetheless; we are journeying back to the palace, will you not join us?"

Aragorn placed both his hands on his friend's shoulders; "Legolas, is it possible that there is a woman with you, and an elf of Rivendell?"

Legolas' face turned serious; "Yes, why?"

They were speaking at a decent tone, but since Eowyn and Arial were a good distance away, it was now impossible for them to hear the remainder of the conversation.

"They are my friends-not trespassers as you probably are thinking, for I brought them here so that they would find safety."

The elf frowned; "Perhaps I would be able to understand an elf of Rivendell showing up in these parts, but a lady of Rohan? I do not understand."

"All will be explained in due time; but it would help if they were freed from their bonds."

"Of course," the elf agreed. "I apologize, for I knew not that you were even in the wood, so you must understand my taking them prisoner."

"I understand my friend, it was just a misunderstanding," said Aragorn good-naturedly.

All Eowyn knew was that the man's name was Aragorn and that he was friends with the elf named Legolas; she had learnt as a child that Legolas was the Prince of Mirkwood, although she obviously never had had the chance to meet him in person.

When they returned, Legolas ordered for their bonds to be cut, and to have their blindfolds removed.

When they removed Eowyn's, she let out a gasp: Strider was Aragorn!

"Y…you are Aragorn?" she asked.

Arial was almost just as shocked as she was, but did not show it too much, due to the fact that Aranel was still on his mind.

"Yes, my lady; that is also my name," replied the Ranger; yes, Aragorn had a lot of names, and they could serve to a certain advantage when he needed a quick alias.

To Eowyn, Strider, or should we say 'Aragorn' was always surprising her; she was beginning to get more and more intrigued by him with each passing day.

000

Now back to the present day: As Selwyn lay in his tent, on his makeshift bed, with his arms behind his head; Sherah entered.

"What is it?" Selwyn asked, not wanting to be bothered. "Did we not discuss everything earlier?"

"No; we did not," answered the man of Harad.

Selwyn shot Sherah a look of defiance. "In my opinion, we have; so leave and tend to your men for we shall set out earlier today."

He was met by a hard slap across the face.

Selwyn stood up and faced Sherah; the slap did not hurt, for it was something done to humiliate the other, like a 'put you in your place' gesture; and Selwyn did not like it one bit.

He drew one of his long Elven knives and held it against Sherah's neck, "The next time you even think about doing that again, think of this: I will slit your throat in an instant, and hang your worthless corpse on a tree as a true symbol of humiliation; I have not the time for your stupidity."

As Sherah felt the cold, sharp blade against his neck, he wanted to shrink away, but he too had pride, and so instead of looking fearful, he wore a look of arrogance.

"Now what is it that you have bothered me for?" snapped the elf.

"It is about the prisoner-Faramir. I know exactly what you should do with him."

"And what would that be? Hmm…perhaps selling him to you so that you can make a fortune by selling him to some other wealthy man of Harad? I think not."

"No, you should not sell him to me or anyone else; what I am proposing is that you make him be of use to us and our cause."

A slight frown came over Selwyn's fair but stern face. "What exactly are you proposing? That he joins the Shadow elves?"

Sherah raised an eyebrow. "Not quite; I am suggesting that you make him a slave in Mordor—but he still belongs to you of course, only that he labors in the land, and since he is a Ranger, he should know a good deal of information should we need it, or if we need him to fight for us, he will."

Selwyn looked thoughtful for a moment, and then when he spoke, his brilliant brown eyes twinkled; "I like your suggestion—that is exactly what we shall to the Captain of Gondor."

000

As Marcus and his men walked wearily (for they barely stopped to rest, despite their wounds); they could see something in the distance.

Marcus shielded the sun from his eyes as he tried to get a better view; but it did not help; the figures appeared to be moving directly towards them.

"Oh no," said Laddyn, who apparently had better eyesight than Marcus. "Orcs."

That was enough to make them all reach for their weapons, but they found none: the Shadow elves had taken their weapons from them and had not given them back.

"Those elves…" Marcus growled.

Laddyn put a hand on the fuming soldiers shoulder; "Now is not the time to be angry with the elves; right now we must find a safe place to hide until they pass us by."

"And before they see us," a soldier added.

And so they scurried about as fast as they could, looking for a hiding place; but unfortunately there was nothing besides green hills and a few bushes. They decided that the bushes were their only hope so they hid behind them.

In a few moments they could hear the orcs trudging along.

"I know what I saw," said a large orc in a loud, gruff voice. "There were men along the road, and then they must have scurried off when they saw us coming!"

"You always think that you see men, Granbash!" moaned an orc in a squeaky voice.

"Shut up! You're no better!" croaked the big orc. "I know what I saw!"

"Call me what you want but-" the skinny orc stopped in his tracks and started sniffing the air. "I smell man flesh."

"I told you so; my nose is by far more alert than your snotty one!"

Marcus and the other soldiers held their breath as some of the orcs came their way. They soon found themselves surrounded by the evil creatures.

"Thought you could hide from us, didn't you?" taunted the skinny orc; "You should have known better."