Uncertain Fates
Faramir stumbled as Enderlin dragged him along; his wrists had been bound quickly—to quickly for him to even try to attack the elf. All he could do was hope that someone would find him and take him back to Gondor where he could begin the process of personally clearing his name.
Enderlin took him to a very secluded place indeed; he was dragged inside a small cave, luckily for Faramir, Osgiliath was still in sight, but he knew what he was capable of physically, and he knew that he could not run all the way to Osgiliath—especially with a strong, nimble elf chasing him.
The cave was cold and had a sort of rotten smell; Enderlin did not let go of the end of the rope, for he knew that rangers had a way of being resourceful, and he was not going to take any chances.
Faramir found the elf's eyes to be cold and piercing, he knew that he had better watch his words with the elf.
Enderlin refused to take his eyes off of the prisoner, and Faramir could feel the elf's keen eyes boring into him.
"I do not think that there is any escaping my fate," thought the despairing captain,
Perhaps he was right; perhaps he was right.
000
As Eowyn traveled through the Wold with the soldiers of Gondor, she felt as though she was home, but she knew that that feeling wouldn't last; instead, those feelings would change from relieved to anxious.
She wished a thousand times that she and Arial had stayed inside the palace that day, but that would have proved to be impossible seeing how both of them were quite outdoorsy.
And then her mind turned to that Captain of Gondor; she had never forgotten that look which had been displayed on his face—on the day of their parting; it had been the expression of one whom in some way, sought death.
Eowyn wondered if he had returned by now or if he was still alive; but she couldn't think about it too much, since thoughts of her own fate clouded in her mind.
000
Boromir was focused; he had just sliced two orcs with one swift stroke of his sword. He would not deny that he was proud of himself.
Two his far left Eomer and Theodred, who were fighting side by side and were fiercely slaying orcs; Boromir saw some orcs trying to escape and without asking for assistance, went after them.
0-0
It was now in the afternoon, and the sun had risen completely; Bashgash was furious, for he knew that his army would now be weakened by the sun.
"Retreat!" he screamed; his voice was at such a high pitch that everyone could hear him.
The orcs retreated in droves, and eventually, so did the Shadow Elves—but they had successfully taken a prisoner.
The armies of Gondor and Rohan put most of their energy into pursuing the orcs; much to the Shadow Elves' luck. So while they snuck away with their prisoner, the orcs were being chased down and killed by the swift strokes of the swords of Rohan and Gondor.
0-0
When Faramir's eyes reopened, the day was still young. Enderlin had the rope go, once he saw that he had awakened, and instead, held a curved sword at his neck.
Faramir put up no protest, for the last thing he wanted at that time was to be beaten; as he looked out of the cave opening (for the opening was wide, and so he had no trouble seeing what was going on outside), he could see that the elves were returning; in some sense he hoped that Selwyn had fallen in battle, but for some reason, that just seemed too good to be true.
It did not take the Shadow Elves too long to reach the cave; not all of them could fit in so they chose to camp outside; Faramir was not surprised to see Selwyn, and he also saw that the Elven-woman who bore such a striking resemblance to Tatiana had survived as well.
But when he looked to his right, he saw that the elves had captured someone; two elves were dragging his bloody, limp form to a secluded place.
Faramir didn't see the man long enough to recognize him, but when he saw that the man was blond, it suddenly struck him that the man could be Marcus!
What if he had returned to Minas Tirith safely?
Faramir knew one thing for sure: he had to find a way to speak with him when he awakened.
000
They walked, and walked, and walked until just about when Eowyn felt that she could go no longer, they stopped at an inn; they had been walking for just about all night, and now the day was still young, but the countless miles of journeying had clearly taken their toll on the poor lady of Rohan.
But unfortunately for Eowyn, it seemed that they were not going to stay at the inn; a few of the soldiers left, and they returned moments later with horses.
Eowyn noticed that two of the horses were joined together at the reins, and she figured that one of those had to be hers.
They all mounted their horses in no time, and ten they all but their horses to a gallop—galloping towards Minas Tirith.
000
Faramir was shocked to see the mysterious Elven woman coming his way; what did she want?
Her face was expressionless as she knelt before him; she began to unbind his wrists. Faramir found that he couldn't take his eyes off of her, for it was definitely an intriguing mystery.
The woman looked up and caught Faramir staring at her, and he didn't avert his gaze. She seemed quite agitated by this, and so her slender fingers began to work nimbly at the rope.
Faramir could not hold back any longer; he had to find out what connection she had with Tatiana, for it would be impossible to say that there was none.
"Who are you?" he asked, "you bear a striking resemblance to one I have come to know."
He didn't even have to put a name for the Elven woman to know whom he was talking about, her face hardened and she stared at him intently.
"How do you know my sister?"
Faramir's eyes widened a little, even though he should have known that that was coming.
"You are Tatiana's sister?" he asked, wondering why Tatiana had made no mention to her sister.
"I do not speak such lies," she said, fumbling with a rather large knot which Enderlin had done.
"You must be her twin sister, then; what is your name?"
"You Gondorians ask too many questions at once; do I not look identical to her?" she snapped. "As for my name, it is Sonya."
Faramir was about to say something else, but when he looked up, he saw Selwyn; the elf wore a scowl on his face as he approached the two of them.
"I think that your work here is done," he said to Sonya; his tone was not harsh, rude, or sarcastic.
The Elven-woman blushed at the sound of his voice and left at his bidding.
Faramir was surprised to see that Selwyn took Sonya's place; he watched Selwyn's long fingers at work—not a word was exchanged between them.
Faramir had noticed that some elves had not returned to camp, which meant only one thing: that they had been killed in battle. In truth, it saddened him, for he knew that their chances for redemption had ran out.
Faramir's wrists were pale and raw, for Enderlin had tied them as tight as tight could be; the most emotion that Selwyn showed was a slight smirk when Faramir grimaced as he removed them.
He couldn't wait for Selwyn to leave so that he could have a chance to speak to the prisoner whom he presumed was Marcus; he couldn't wait to hear of all that was happening in Minas Tirith—for he could not wait to return.
0-0
The young blond man awakened; much to his discomfort.
He found that he was soaked in his own blood. He remembered what had happened before he had lost consciousness:
He had been slaying orcs, and he had even killed a few of the evil elves; but something made him stop in his tracks: it was a woman, one of the most beautiful that he had ever seen.
Her chestnut hair blew in the wind, and her sword shone even without the sun; her piercing green eyes bored into him.
He knew that she was supposed to be his enemy, but that fact that she was a woman stayed his hand.
And then all of a sudden, a raven-haired Elven man emerged from an all but collapsed stone pillar, and sliced his sharp blade across the mans stomach.
He remembered nothing else after that.
When he finally found the strength to lift his weary eyes up, he saw someone coming his way; the person who was approaching him was clearly not an elf, but yet he was dressed in their attire.
When Faramir got close enough to the man, he knelt down; now that he could see properly, the man certainly was not Marcus.
The man gathered all of the strength that he could muster at that time, and drew back from the Ranger.
"Listen to me; I am not one of them, I am only held captive like you, if you are a Gondorian you should know who I am."
"I am not a Gondorian," the man said, still somewhat defensively.
"I am Faramir, Captain of the Ithilien Rangers—you can trust me."
"If you are who you say you are, then what are you doing here? I would have thought that you were far away—due to your desertion."
Faramir was silent for a moment; could this mean that Marcus didn't return to Minas Tirith?
It most certainly did, for Faramir knew that the soldier would try to clear the Captain of Gondor's name.
"The accusations of desertions are false; if you ask all of the elves around here, even they will tell you that I have been with them the entire time."
The man was now convinced. "I am Caleb of Rohan; I do not know why they did not kill me, for they had the chance."
"They can do such things, Caleb, but let me tell you that we are in a very bad predicament, but there is still hope."