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~ A Princess in a Tower ~

When she woke, Elraen found herself in a strangely calm and quiet scene. Above her was a black stone ceiling, visible by a cool light coming in dim through a small window on the wall. She sat up suddenly. Looking around she saw she was in a small room furnished with the bed on which she sat, comfortably supplied with pillows and blankets of wool and furs, a small table and chair, and there was a large tub full of steaming water along the opposite wall. Against the foot of the bed on the floor leaned her shield and scabbard.

Elraen jumped up in a start. The last thing she remembered was battling Orcs in the woods near the Emyn Muil. She was still wearing everything she'd had on, including the riding garments and armor given to her by Galadriel. She went to the door but discovered it locked.

Out the window in the morning light she could see many hills covered in evergreen trees, and peeking out from close behind them she could see the tops of snow capped mountains. The window was just big enough to lean partly out of. It was a good hundred feet to the ground. Below she saw a multitude of shacks, houses, roads, carts, holes, and quarry pits with a crowd of all sorts busying about already making quite a racket at this early hour. A ways beyond there was a large wall forming a great curve encircling the area. She looked directly above her hey and saw thin gleaming black walls shooting up into the sky. Isengard.

Saruman. He must have taken the lesson on keeping prisoners on the roof. She was too low to be easily noticed by the eagles, and too high to jump safely. She was in a room facing north, away from the entrance. As she stood defeatedly looking around the room she sighed and shoved her hand in her pockets. In one pocket were the beautiful hair pins of Galadriel, in the other she felt a small round metal thing, and pulled it out. It was a small silver medallion that fit in her palm, like a very large coin, hanging from a fine strong chain. It looked a very valuable and beautiful thing: within its circle was wrought the image of a tower with a ship before it upon the sea, and a great swan with a little pearl set at the bird's breast, flying over all. Elraen held it, gazing at it long, and suddenly she remembered: Boromir had shoved something into her hand during the battle.

He must have worn it under his layers. She sank into the little chair and held it limply upon her lap. "Oh, Boromir," she sighed. Long she sat with her head bowed, grieving in silence, and she wept. She wondered if any of the others had escaped or even survived.

Elraen heard the clinks of iron at the door and jumped back to her feet and shoved the pendant back into her pocket. In hobbled a thick older woman, small and rustic clad with graying brown hair. She came in carrying a large steaming kettle, and stopped over the tub to empty its contents. The woman gestured to her. "I clean," said a rough voice in the Common Tongue, and then the woman hobbled out the door and shut it. Dunlander? Elraen heard the lock clicking back in place.

She noticed a tray on the table with a silver cover. Inside there was a fine array of food on a small platter, including fresh bread, hard cheese, sliced meats, nuts, and dried fruit, and an adjacent cup of tea. Elraen suddenly noticed how hungry she was. She sat down and quickly finished it all, wondering how long she'd been sleeping.

Deciding she may as well get comfortable for the moment, she took advantage of the tub. The woman returned while she was in it and took all the clothes, high elven wear, undergarments and all, leaving behind a robe. After the bath on another small table she found a comb and brush and other such grooming items, along with a looking glass of polished silver on a stand. As she tied her hair back into its braid she looked at her reflection, for the first time since Lorien. As Elraen pondered the appearance of her mortal raiment, Elraen suddenly felt very alone and was overcome with grief from missing her home and kin very deeply. She knew at least her brother the king was watching over all, and turned to gaze out the window again, wishing it faced westward.

A few hours later the woman came back with another tray of food and a cup of wine for lunch. She scurried out and the door was locked again. Elraen wondered why she was getting such fine treatment as a prisoner. And of course why she was a prisoner at all, and what to do now.

Eventually the sun was now low in the sky, and the shadows outside grew long. She was gazing out the window again, and in the distance she thought she heard the sound of soft bright whinnying from beyond the wall. Before she could ponder on it another knock came on the door then it opened. The old woman entered and placed a pile of freshly cleaned folded clothes on the chair, all washed and dried with great care it seemed, then gestured for the captive to come forth. "You come," she said. Elraen put back on everything: clothes and armor, sheath, shield, and cloak, and stepped out. Standing outside in the hall were two armed men. One gestured to the stairs. The lost daughter of Gondor walked ahead of them, going down a few flights, the old woman leading the way. At last the woman gestured to a doorway. Elraen walked through great double doors into a large round room with a large window facing south overlooking the main gate in the distance, the last bit of orange sunlight angling through. The walls had carvings of intricate patterns and there were beautiful patterns of smooth dark tiles on the floor. The men left the room and stood by the doors outside in the stairwell.

"Welcome," said a low resonant voice from a wall in shadow across the room. Out stepped the wizard, his shimmering robe casting the low light in many colors. "Lady Elraen, is it? I am Saruman, the White Wizard, chief of my order. Please do not be alarmed, and excuse the manner in which you were brought here. The attack on the falls I received news of from my scouts and birds of service, and I sought to bear you away from the danger of the company you were keeping as swiftly as possible. For are you not one of the heirs of Elendil the Faithful who helped defeat Sauron many long years ago? The servants of Mordor were your attackers; certainly you would be on your way there now, captive, if not for my intervention."

"There have been rumors swirling around of a powerful witch haunting the mountains, with flames for eyes and lightning bolts for hands. I guessed that it must be you, based on the description of a young girl of black hair and grey eyes, and based on my knowledge that among your illustrious ancestors the mighty Numenoreans there were many with powers over mind and mood and elements that lesser mortals would call magic. I remember your foster father, if you were wondering, for I met him once or twice. He was a close man but gave enough clues for me to parse out your place on the family trees of the Royal House when I chanced to look at them. A pity I was never invited to meet his ward, I could have offered much help to you with your… gifts. Such special gifts, I think, should not go to waste."

Elraen realized the wizard was unaware of her awakening. She wondered how much he did know, or at least suspected, and what he could be after. She stood, holding her expression still. After a pause he continued.

"For very long I have studied and learned the lore of that over which we all have been quarreling. I have labored the longest to secure this most valuable weapon away from its maker, I am the most learned of this thing, and unlike some others, I am the strong enough to wield it. I can defeat our great enemy at long last, but I will need help, your help with your most formidable powers, to settle matters with these lowly foolish Men who mistakenly believe their fight is with me, and to retrieve this weapon before it falls into its maker's hands. With the Ring safely out of the Enemy's reach, you, most high lady, heir of the majestic race of Numenor, may manage the affairs of Men as best fits their custom from your rightful place on the southern throne."

The Princess was not unmoved, and might under other circumstances have found herself more easily shaken by such cunningly wrought lies spoken by such a soothing and resonant voice. But something about his plea made her remember a speech she had once heard countless years ago by an old foe as he spoke to an audience of a king and his council, whom only a few who now walked Middle-earth had ever known. As she listened, another more recent memory flashed into her mind, back to the council of Elrond when Boromir suggested putting the thing to use. She thought of his descent into despair all the way down the river, and his account of having 'become angry with Frodo'. He had become very obsessed over the Ring, Elraen now realized, overmuch so. Some end it brought him to, she thought, and this wizard, she already knew, was heading for a similar fate.

Still, fair words, uttered by an enchanting voice, a clever attempt to stay out of trouble. She wondered what to do next. Surely she could not cooperate, nor was there any good in feigning to do so. What would he do if she refused? Kill her? Keep her imprisoned? Present her to the Dark Lord to either curry favor or simply to buy more time for himself? The last course seemed the most likely. She wondered what she would do then if that happened. As tempting as it would be to resist the Enemy directly, that was against the rules, so she could not hope to be of much help that way.

She decided to unmask herself. Slowly she raised a hand, and a strong breeze came whistling in through the balcony door and danced around the room, and the drapes and the ensconced candle lights fluttered up high. Outside a gale rustled the distant trees in circles around the wall several times with such force its roar seemed to blare right into their ears. The wizard looked around him in wonder and confusion. She stood, calm and still, and the room filled with the high air of her majesty. After a few moments she dropped her hand and it died down again.

Without spoken words she replied. 'It's much too late for all that, Curumo,' she started slowly, 'to try and convince me to help you. I know much more than you think I do, for I have seen far more than you can guess, from my brother's perch high up on the holy mountain. Besides, you would know better than I where this thing is now. But, if you release me, and call off whatever plans of assault you have turning, I will forgive this transgression against me, and I can grant your passage home when this is over, should we reach that point. Please, I rescued you once before, let me help you again.'

Surprise and alarm washed visibly over the old man's face as the revelation sank in, followed by a flush of embarrassment and fear, as one who has discovered the mischief thought hidden and private was in fact long marked by watchful eyes. For a fleeting moment his expression softened as he considered her words, and was indeed tempted by the offer. It was as if part of him remembered many things he had long forgotten: the princess in splendor as one high among the gods, the king and his queen, his home in its glory, and days of his youth yet filled with a sense of love and duty.

But he resented her imperviousness to his efforts, and her pity toward him, and he hardened again. He let out a loud scornful laugh. "You think you are really so far above me, Princess?" he barked with disdain. "You are still vulnerable in this raiment in which you walk, which I have rescued from torment in Mordor, and this is the thanks I get in return. You take too much after that wandering fool you chose to follow, to your own demise. Is that all you have to say?"

Her gaze turned cool and stern, and for a long moment she was silent. She was not having any luck in persuading him to abandon his plans, and could not force him to do so. There was naught else she could say or do, but try and get away.

"No," she replied aloud. She stepped forward and leaned toward him. "You killed Boromir," she whispered, "and you will pay."

She stepped back away from him again, and the wizard's stoic face was again betrayed a moment by a hint of fear.

"I am leaving now," she declared.

Saruman realized he was in a dangerous position and now quickly considered how to react. He was loath to release her, for he originally had a mind to offer her up to the Dark Lord as one of the last heirs of the Royal Houses of the Kingdoms in Exile, certainly that would buy him great favor and precious time. But now he feared more the possible consequences of trying to restrain her. The Princess was weaker in her mortal raiment, but he did not know by how much, and she stood a good chance of overpowering him if she chose to force her way out or worse yet, usurp his position here at Isengard. Nor did he wish to risk the possibility of immediate wrath from the mightier among her kin back home. He judged she would desire to head eastward to the challenge of Mordor, to hunt the ring for her own ambitions, or in service of Gandalf's ambitions; that of course was his guess. This worried him little, for the treasure, so he thought, was due to arrive shortly, and she wouldn't get far before she found herself at a loss.

Thus letting her go could provide a useful distraction to his opponent in the dark tower. She may try to warn the King in Rohan, if she got there in time. But even if he could be persuaded to listen to a strange little girl wandering his country alone, the wizard felt assured that any reaction would be sorely inadequate to face the armies he'd collected. And so, half feigning a look of reluctant concession as she walked away, he nodded to the guards to stand aside, and did not hinder her.

Elraen exited the tower, wondering indeed that the wizard had let her go so easily, but hurried along, thinking better of staying to learn why. She walked as fast as she dared toward the gate, passing crowds on either side of servants and soldiers busying about getting ready for the muster, and men in the housing of the great wall staring out in curiosity from the windows now lit against the fading daylight.

But, now what? Elraen had no idea if any of the rest of the company were even alive or where they might be. She decided the best direction would be Gondor, though what she could accomplish there she wasn't sure of, either. But she also thought she should probably stop to warn the Lord of the Mark, for Saruman's forces were mustering swiftly.

Just then she heard the whinnying sound again, and perked up. That was no ordinary hill horse of Dunlandings! She let out a whistle, and heard a great neighing in response, closer. Then out of the woods she came, the great golden elf horse Anaraui. "Sunstreak!" she cried in a whisper. "It is you, Sunstreak! How glad I am to see you again!"

The great horse must have followed Shadowfax back to Rohan, perhaps then she wandered into the northern forests to avoid capture by the Rohirrim. She wondered if Shadowfax was about. "Come! We must now bear south!" Elraen jumped up into the saddle and off they bounded toward Meduseld.