Uncertain Fates

Éowyn unsheathed her sword, she stared at herself in the mirror and her eyes began to water; she had always hoped that she would someday earn her honor in battle. But now her dreams of valor were diminishing with each passing day.

She would now be confined within the walls of a city which she had no love for. She would grow old and die here with no chance of earning honor in battle. But she couldn't seem to let her hopes go.

"Someday," she whispered to herself. "Someday I'll get the chance."

0-0

Boromir had politely excused himself from the table and went in search of Éowyn.

Yes, it had been a while since he and the lady of Rohan had exchanged words, but he still thought that he should go and bring her back to the table, for he thought it wrong that she should just leave like that; whether she was interested in the topic or not.

He decided that he should start with her quarters, and if she was not there then he would have to ask Norah, for she would surely know.

Boromir quietly made his way down the long hall until he finally reached her quarters. Surprisingly, the door was ajar.

He could see into the room with ease, and he saw…Éowyn. He watched her silently for a few minutes.

Sorrow was clearly on her face. She had not the slightest idea that someone was watching her.

Boromir watched her graceful form as she held the sword. It was just an ordinary soldiers sword, nothing more; and as he was about to enter and confront her, she spoke.

"Someday; someday I'll get the chance."

Boromir frowned at this; surely she was not talking about going to battle—or was she? Boromir didn't know her all that well, so he couldn't settle on a definite answer, but he knew that he had to bring her back down to the meeting before there was talk of their absence.

He swung the door open, and Éowyn whirled around, with her sword still in hand.

Boromir said nothing to her until he entered the room. Éowyn lowered her sword arm, and eventually dropped the weapon to the ground.

"My lady, if it is battle that you seek, you will not get it; I will not allow it."

Éowyn stared at him with a straight face. "How long have you been there—watching me?"

Boromir couldn't help smiling when he saw the look on Éowyn's face. "Long enough to see how you wield a sword," he answered.

Éowyn looked down, averting his gaze for the first time in a long time. "Perhaps we should go back to the meeting now," she suggested calmly. "I am sure that you are missed at the table," and with that being said, she walked out of her quarters, leaving Boromir behind.

000

Eleven months later in Mordor…

Faramir wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his right hand. That was the twentieth sword that he alone had forged.

Ever since he had returned to Mordor, his work had doubled (that was, of course, the work of Selwyn), and when word had come, saying that Bashgash had been slain, another orc named Uthugly had taken over as the taskmaster, and he tripled Faramir's work, so now the poor Gondorian only got around three hours of sleep, for his work was so overwhelming. He had seen Selwyn and Sonya, but the Elven woman did not even attempt to get eye contact with him or speak to him; while Selwyn on the other hand, seemed to enjoy seeing Faramir toil along.

But the Gondorian never gave up hope for freedom. He had managed to sneak another dagger, and this time he wouldn't be so hasty to use it, for this could be his last chance, and he wasn't about to squander it.

He worked normally so that he wouldn't give them any indication that he was planning to escape; he would be much more cautious this time…he would not fail. He couldn't afford to fail. The Ithilien Rangers needed their Captain back; Boromir needed his brother back…but did Denethor need his younger son back? Faramir didn't think so. Perhaps he was right.

0-0

Faramir worked silently, for he was much too busy trying to think of a plan that could guarantee a successful escape.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he accidentally pounded the metal too hard—so hard that it broke off and the sword was ruined. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that Uthugly wouldn't see. Unfortunately, the orc did see him, and stormed over to him right away.

Faramir sighed deeply, afraid of what punishment might befall him now; his spirits had been low since his failed attempt, and now he just wanted to live out his days in Mordor as peacefully as possible until he escaped; but with Uthugly lurking about, that was impossible.

"What have we here?" growled the one eyed orc, for he had lost his left eye while fighting the soldiers of Gondor and Rohan in Osgiliath.

Faramir scrambled for words. "It—it is nothing," he said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

"You've ruined that sword, you swine!" he shouted, spitting in Faramir's face.

Faramir could feel the nasty, cold, slimy spit running down his face, but he kept his face straight and looked downward, waiting for his punishment.

And it came. Uthugly landed a well aimed blow to the Gondorian's stomach. Weak and overcome with weariness, Faramir fell to the ground; holding his stomach.

Uthugly laughed evilly, "That's what you get when you slack!" he shouted.

Faramir looked up at the orc just in time to see Uthugly draw his sword.

It took everything that Faramir had to not draw the dagger, for it is a natural instinct to defend oneself.

Faramir began to scoot backwards and away from the maddened orc, but Uthugly was persistent. Orcs eventually began to join him, for they were in desperate need of entertainment.

Uthugly knew that he was under strict orders from Selwyn, so he couldn't kill him or anything, but he had every intention of hurting Faramir. And he knew exactly where.

The scars on Faramir's face were beginning to heal, and so Uthugly decided that it would be best if he hit him there.

"Hold him down!" he ordered the orcs, and they did so, despite Faramir's struggle.

The Gondorian watched as the orc grinned with glee. He turned his blade around so that the hilt was facing Faramir, and the last thing that the Gondorian remembered was seeing Uthugly prepare to hit him. After that, all went black.

0-0

Faramir awakened to the feeling of his sore face being roughly washed by a cold cloth. He still had yet to open his eyes.

He winced and immediately felt around for one of the wrists to stop whoever it was from doing whatever he or she was doing. His hand met a slender wrist, and when his eyes popped open, he found himself staring into the face of Sonya.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a whisper.

"You are hurt; Selwyn sent me to tend to your wounds."

Faramir looked around and saw that he was in a tent. He tried to sit up but Sonya stopped him.

"You have to rest first, or you shan't be much good for anything."

Faramir could still detect a sort of coldness in her voice, and her expression remained unchanged.

"I shall tend to you until I have to go to Harad—by then you should be better."

Faramir's eyes widened as a whole new plan for escape hatched in his head. "You are going to Harad?" he asked.

"Did you not hear me?" she asked sharply.

His newfound plan was: if he could somehow get Sonya to warm up to him enough so that he could trust her, he could tell her of his plan to escape Mordor for good, and she could convince Selwyn to let him come to Harad with her…well he wouldn't really be going to Harad, he would be heading back to Gondor!

"When will you be leaving?" he asked.

"In three weeks," she answered casually, dipping the cloth back into the bowl which contained murky water.

Faramir knew that he probably couldn't get her to warm up to him in a few weeks' time! He would have to take the risk of telling her now. But he had one final question for her.

"Are you going alone?"

Sonya eyed him curiously. "Yes; why?"

Faramir sat up and leaned close to her so that if anyone was outside of the tent listening, they wouldn't hear.

"I know that you do not like me, but if you do this for me I shall be indebted to you with my life. That I promise."

"What are you talking about?" Sonya asked blankly.

"I…I need you to do something for me, Sonya," he blurted out. "I need you to help me escape."

Sonya seemed shocked for a moment, but she soon regained her composure. "You are mad indeed," she scolded. "I am loyal to Selwyn not you; I do not grant the prisoners special favors; I thought that you should know that by now."

"If you will just listen to me for one moment," Faramir pleaded.

Sonya sighed and looked him straight in the eye. "It would make more sense to me if you stayed and waited for death to claim you, for if you seek it then Selwyn will indeed give you a very slow and painful one."

Faramir swallowed, knowing that she was right. "That is a risk that I am willing to take. I know that you do not care about my wellbeing, and I am not asking you to. I am not even asking you to run away with me; you will be perfectly innocent, and if Selwyn sends elves after anyone, it will be me…not you," he said in a whisper.

Sonya looked down for a few moments, as though she was in thought, until she finally spoke up. "What is your plan?" she asked sharply, but it was clear that Faramir had touched her conscience.

"Why should I tell you now? For all I know, you could tell Selwyn the moment you leave this tent," Faramir said.

"You should have thought about that risk before you decided to tell me that you were planning to escape. If I tell Selwyn, he will cut you down with his sword—and then kill you; you may think that I am very cold, but I do have a heart…a conscience, and though I cannot possibly imagine why Tatiana could possibly want anything to do with you, I do not want to see you die in such a brutal way. At least if I agree to help you, you'll die with some form of dignity I suppose."

"So you are saying that you'll help me?" Faramir asked.

"Perhaps," she replied flatly.

Faramir knew that he was taking a risk, but if he ever wanted to see his loved ones again, he would have to seize the moment, and he did. Faramir took a deep breath and told her of his plan.

Mordor: Three weeks from then

Faramir had no belongings to pack up as he waited for Sonya.

It seemed like he had been waiting forever when she finally emerged from her tent. Three weeks ago, she had agreed only because the conversation gnawed at her conscience. She had successfully convinced Selwyn to allow Faramir to accompany her; saying: "I can handle him; do I not have a sword?"

So Selwyn had reluctantly permitted it, and so it had been set.

They didn't exchange a single word as they walked together, past the orcs other foul creatures; it took a while before they finally reached the Morannon, and when the finally did, the black gates opened and they walked out.

Sonya was still enthralled in the wicked band of elves, and Faramir was on his way to becoming a free man.