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Your Heart Will Be True
By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
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Chapter 16
Palace, Invaded
April 23
Minas Tirith
"Where is that girl?" Eowyn sighed heavily as she moved back up the hall. Gilraen had gone off sleepwalking again and disappeared. Eowyn couldn't imagine how the little one managed to be as much trouble asleep as awake! With that thought she touched her stomach, nowhere near showing the life growing in her womb, but she couldn't help thinking of having one of these treasures of her own… Perhaps she would hope for child with less energy than young Gilraen.
Eowyn turned back to Eldarion's room and came in to find Elenwen sitting at the end of her brother's bed. Eldarion himself was fingering the sheathed dagger his father had left with him. It had become something of a comfort to the boy. Both were talking in hushed tones but broke off when Eowyn entered.
"What is it?" she asked with a tired smile. Both looked a little guilty, but Eldarion confessed softly.
"We were just wondering if Ada was going to come home soon."
Eowyn's smile faded slightly as she came to sit with them. Elenwen looked increasingly forlorn these days and Eldarion had not been himself either; even Gilraen seemed subdued while her father was away.
"He will be home as soon as he can," she replied, taking Elenwen half into her lap and gently brushing her hair back from her forehead. "You father loves you dearly and he would not be away from you a moment longer than he had to."
"But what about orcs?" Elenwen asked with wide eyes.
"There are not many orcs around any more, sweet one." Eowyn shook her head.
"What about the evil men from the south and river men and spiders and…snakes."
Eowyn touched the girl's face compassionately but could not come up with an answer that would soothe the child's fears.
"Don't worry, Elen," Eldarion answered instead, smiling at his sister. "Uncle Legolas will look after Ada."
Eowyn nodded. "That he will, Eldarion." Elenwen moved over as Eowyn stood once more. "Now I must go find your wayward sister, she had gone walking in her sleep again and I cannot seem—"
Eowyn broke off suddenly, turning on her heels and facing the door. Outside all was dark. The torches had gone out and the only illumination was the night light Eldarion had inherited from his father.
"Children," Eowyn barely whispered, "get behind the bed."
Eldarion and Elenwen hurriedly obeyed the order and slid behind Eldarion's bed while Eowyn ran quickly to her room which was attached by a door to the bedchamber. Usually Arien slept there, but she had given it up so that she could stay with her Queen.
Eowyn returned silently with a naked sword gleaming in her hands. A strange glint had sparked in her eyes and her heartbeat quickened with resolve. Whatever was lurking outside that door in the pitch black… she would be ready for it.
Something stirred and the door creaked ominously. All was silent for several long moments. The children's breathing was loud in Eowyn's ears, and she almost fancied she felt the movement of her own child. Her knuckles whitened as she heard a soft sound of cloth scuffing stone… Suddenly a figure burst forward as though he had come straight from the darkness, a sword in hand.
Eowyn let out a cry, swinging her blade to catch the man's in a loud clang of steel. The stranger gave a howl of surprise and spun to get past her, but Eowyn moved to block him, parrying him away from the bed where the two children hid.
Elenwen had burrowed into her brother's arms and he covered her head protectively as he tried to glimpse Eowyn and the man she was fighting.
Eowyn's skirts swirled about her in the darkness, and the blades clashed again, glinting in the glow from the small nightlight. A rapid hammer of blows from Eowyn pushed him back a step; he was clearly a fierce fighter, but just as clearly he had not expected any such opposition.
Out of the corner of her eye Eowyn caught sight of another shadow moving her way and moved only just fast enough to avoid a second blade. Laying out a swift kick at her first attacker's stomach, she shifted her attention to this new opponent and slashed wildly at the shadow. His blade caught hers with tremendous force and she felt the jarring impact move up to her shoulders.
Then the first attacker loomed back up beside her. Recovering her balance from the heavy blow, she tried to turn towards him— but she was half-way there when he viciously backhanded her across the face, sending her spinning sideways into the wall. There was a crack as her forehead struck the masonry.
Elenwen let out a cry without thinking and though Eldarion clamped a hand over her mouth he knew it was too late. He watched in dismay as Eowyn slid dazedly to the floor and as he fumbled around for something to help him he heard the two men moving towards the bed.
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Arien fell limply against Arwen, her strength giving out. Like shadows and smoke the image of her mother weeping wavered in her mind, the horror and the pain a living scar upon her heart.
She was crying softly, the low keening of a wounded animal, but there was no pity in her tormenter. He was grinding the memories into her… somehow he was making her relive them, and whether she knew it or not, they were breaking her down. Ever so slowly, they were killing her.
"Am I being too gentle?" the coarse voice echoed to her ears. "Scream, Arien… you screamed when he died, when your home burned!" Arien did scream harder and louder than any time before. Her body shuddered; she was blinded by pain, physical and emotional, and she felt as though both were fit to break her in two.
Suddenly another cry broke through like black glass shattering… a furious cry… in a familiar voice.
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Vardnauth was so consumed with his destruction of the handmaid that he did not detect the presence of another until Bartho slammed full into him, knocking him clear across the room. He was on his feet in a moment, hissing curses, and as he rose his hood fell, revealing what Arien had already discovered.
Bartho had not known what to expect when he knocked the attacker off of Arien and the queen, but as the figure faced him he knew he had not expected what he found.
An elf.
Twisted eyes gazed at him, a strange unearthly glint of steel flashing with hatred, but the fair features and delicately pointed ears gave his race away.
Shocked as he was, however, Bartho did not give Vardnauth a chance to recover first.
Swinging his sword out with the strength that would have felled a sapling in a single blow, he tried to cut cleanly towards the elf's middle. Vardnauth barely sidestepped, still gaining his wits, but he managed to pull out his dagger nonetheless and quickly leapt back towards Arwen, ignoring Bartho for the moment.
Bartho followed after him, swinging at his back and clipping the elf sharply across the shoulders. Vardnauth lunged the remaining distance forward, bringing his dagger down towards Arwen's heart with both hands on the hilt. Arien moved then, flipping onto her back and pushing her hands up to catch his as they came down.
She was no where near as strong as he, but her defense was just strong enough to give Bartho time to reach the elf.
Vardnauth growled angrily as he was forced to turn his attention to the threat at hand. Swinging off the bed he pulled back far enough to put a safe distance between himself and Bartho.
Stepping to the middle of the room, Bartho held his sword at the ready and did not once move his eyes from the elf.
Vardnauth made the first move. Pushing towards Bartho he tried to slip under the Dúnadan's guard and cut him at the legs.
Bartho jumped back and dropped his sword to catch the dagger, leaving his face unprotected. Vardnauth lashed out with one fist catching the man in the jaw and causing Bartho to jerk back. Then the ranger managed to get his elbow into Vardnauth's face and they were forced apart.
The elf brought his blade up again and tried to cut Bartho's throat, but there was a clank as the man swept his sword in between and knocked the blade aside. They battled for some minutes, neither getting close enough to draw much blood, and Bartho remaining on the defensive as he tried to draw Vardnauth away from his intended target.
The Dúnadan could not help recalling that the elf had not been alone, and he shuddered to think how the others in the palace were faring.
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Duurben felt his frustration mount with each blow he dealt the attackers. How had they come upon the gates like this? How had they managed to slip past Gondor's defenses? He supposed the answer to that was obvious enough; Gondor was open to the farmers and traders that came through, Torin himself had reported countless such people around the gate that day.
In all this, though, it was not the enemy his men were battling that concerned him as much as it was the lack of strategy. What enemy of Gondor would launch such a fruitless attack? As frustrated as Duurben was, he knew there was no real threat here, he held many men in reserve and this attack on the gate seemed almost a…distraction.
Duurben's gaze turned automatically to the palace doors just inside the inner circle's beleaguered gate. What was he leaving unprotected as he focused on this skirmish?
"Anárion!"
The gatekeeper turned quickly at his name and broke away from the fighting. "Sir, we have nearly overcome their forces. It was a weak attack, it would have been almost harmless if not for the element of surprise and the empty gateway."
"Anárion," Duurben repeated urgently, "I fear that something is amiss at the palace. Send ten of your men to assure that the royal family are safe while we bring down the last of the enemy."
"Sir." Anárion nodded and obeyed.
It was not long before the men returned and Duurben read in Anárion's face that all was as he had feared. He stepped away from the fight, meeting him half-way.
"Captain," the gatekeeper spoke quickly, "the doors have been sealed against us. We don't know how, but the enemy slipped past us."
Duurben felt his face pale. This could not be — not again. He had sworn on his very life to protect the royal family. Now they were trapped within their own home, and he was powerless to defend them.
Visibly, he shook himself. This was hardly the time — if there would ever be one — to fall into despair. "Anárion, my men must finish here, but they can do so without my help. Your sentries will aid me in breaking down the doors."
"Yes, sir."
"And Anárion."
"Sir?"
Duurben let out a breath, eyeing the palace speculatively. "We may have need of the dwarves."
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Eldarion felt his whole body had frozen… he couldn't think, he couldn't move… couldn't breathe.
Don't be ridiculous! he berated himself. You have to do something!
What would his father do?
His father.
With an unexpected jolt, Eldarion felt something thawing his body from the inside out and with a strange resolve he reached out and grabbed the dagger that had fallen to the floor. He knew what his father would do.
The shadowed figures were almost upon them now. Elenwen was trembling and though she tried hard to be still Eldarion could easily read the terror in her brown eyes. He tried to give her reassurance, but there was no time. Crouching down he waited until the figures had leaned over the bed.
In a sudden motion, Eldarion stood up, stabbing his father's dagger straight into one figure's shoulder. The man cried out angrily and lashed out with his whole arm, catching Eldarion across the face. The boy let go of the dagger and rolled with the blow, falling on the floor. He rolled back onto all fours and pushed Elenwen firmly, managing to jolt her out of her terrified stupor. She half crawled, half ran across the floor towards Eowyn, Eldarion hard on her heels. Elenwen reached their fallen caretaker, but her brother was caught by the wounded man's companion.
Grabbing the boy firmly around waist, the man jerked him backwards and pulled him tight against his chest. Eldarion struggled wildly, fighting with fists and heels and anything else he could think of.
His captor seemed to find that amusing, until Eldarion's stone tree statue that Legolas had given him cracked hard against the dark man's kneecap.
Eldarion heard the angered snarl as the man turned his cold glare on Elenwen, whose hands had thrown the statue. The prince used the distraction to his advantage, digging his nails as hard as he could into the man's hands he managed to wiggle free and run the rest of the way towards Eowyn.
The man with the dagger in his shoulder had recovered by this point and jerked the dagger from his wound, throwing it across the room past Eowyn to land in the corner of the bedroom.
Eldarion fell back, trying to move away, and he felt Elenwen cower behind him.
There had to be something…Eowyn's sword!
Eldarion groped for the weapon and found it. Grabbing it in shaky hands he gathered himself to face the two men. The boy had, of course, been trained in the use of the sword, Aragorn and Arwen had been sure of it, but this weapon was quite a bit heavier than he was used to and he was really no match for two men twice his size.
Fortunately for him he had quite enough of his father in him to not consider that fact too seriously. Thus Eldarion brought the blade up in time to catch the first swing at his head. Getting to his feet to gain at least some height advantage, Eldarion managed to catch the next as well.
The wounded man hung back, watching his fellow fight the young boy as he moved casually around to get the girl who was sitting on the floor trying to rouse the lady.
Eldarion saw the man's direction and quickly moved to intervene. Swinging the sword he managed to catch the man in the knees with a crack, bringing the assailant to ground. Unfortunately he had lost his focus on the other man and only realize his mistake when the man grabbed him by the collar and threw him forcibly across the room.
The boy didn't even remember the impact and he barely made out the sound of his sister screaming his name as he slid to the floor. He wondered vaguely what death would feel like and whether his father would have been proud of him… the nightlight was the last part of his vision to fade.
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Pippin ran through the hall blindly. He had found to his frustration that all the windows had been bolted like the doors and he had found two more dead sentries. These men had a lot to answer for.
Pippin had had yet to find them, but he feared where they might be and decided that he must go make sure that the Lady Eowyn and the prince and princesses were well. While he ran he tried to formulate a plan.
If Duurben discovered that the doors and windows were bolted up soon, then there was a chance he could break in before the intruders had time to do damage.
But when Pippin reached Eldarion's room in time to hear Elenwen scream he feared that it might be too late.
"Fool of a Took!" Pippin cried in dismay, running to the door and throwing it open. The scene that met his eyes was one to haunt him for the rest of his life. Two men darkly clad and one bleeding were standing and kneeling in the middle of the room.
The one standing held a sword and was advancing on Elenwen and the Lady Eowyn, who was collapsed by the girl's side. Eldarion lay limp across the room and from his place by the door Pippin could not tell if he lived. There was blood trickling from a corner of the lad's mouth…
Giving a cry, Pippin lunged into the room, his sword already out, and plunged the blade into the man's stomach. The man fell back in surprise but turned to swing at Pippin who ducked easily and stabbed again, higher this time. The man coughed as he slumped down against Eldarion's bed. Placing a hand over his wound he looked down at it in surprise before sliding sideways to the floor.
Pippin let out a ragged breath before running to Eldarion. Hastily he checked the boy's vitals and found him to be alive, but stunned. Eldarion's eyes opened and he seemed to be trying to say something, but the hobbit couldn't make it out.
Then Elenwen's voice alerted him to the danger. Whirling around, Pippin saw the other man crawling towards him, his sword still in hand. Pippin moved in front of Eldarion, but there was no need. A second later the man dropped to the floor, Aragorn's dagger sticking from his back.
Eowyn, the side of her face badly bruised, slumped back to the floor breathing heavily.
Pippin helped Eldarion to the other side of the room. "Are you alright your highness?" Pippin asked worriedly.
"I'm fi-fine," Eldarion nodded shakily, trying not to look at the two dead men in his room.
Elenwen whimpered softly before dropping into her brother's arms and Eldarion patted her on the back vaguely, still trying to get his wits about him.
"Are you alright, Lady Eowyn?" Pippin looked her over concernedly, but she seemed to be alright.
"I am well, Pippin." Eowyn nodded slightly, touching her stomach subconsciously and leaning against the wall. Suddenly remembering something Eowyn's eyes widened. "Gilraen! She's still out in the halls somewhere!" Eowyn attempts to rise were stilled by Pippin who quickly got to his feet.
"I'll find her, my Lady, you stay here. More may come and Eldarion and Elenwen need someone to watch them. I'll find Gilraen."
Eowyn nodded shakily. "Thank you Pippin, be careful."
"I will." Pippin nodded quickly with a half smile before running to the door. He could be wrong, but he had an idea where to start look for Elessar's youngest daughter.
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Bartho ducked the blow and felt the air hiss above his head. Vardnauth had given up fighting the Dúnadan with only one dagger and now had two long wicked blades in hand.
Bartho had seen Prince Legolas' daggers before, but they were nothing like these. These were not white silver, these had a coppery tinge, almost as though they had killed so many times that they could not be cleansed of the hint of blood. Red blood.
The human and elf continued to battle across the floor, neither managing to get the edge and both barely managing to hold their own. Vardnauth was clearly a brilliant fighter, but his lack of practice was obvious and this was the only reason Bartho was still alive.
The man was aware of Arien's distressed presence somewhere in the dark and he hoped she was alright; it had been her screams that had summoned him with such haste. After following the dark figures through the hole in the wall he had seen them close the doors and heard the sounds of their attempts to block them, the ranger had fully intended to return and tell Duurben — and then he'd heard Arien's cries from a window nearby. He admitted fully that hearing her had blinded his logic and now he was not sure how long it would take Duurben to realize that the attack on the gate was to distract him from the real threat.
Vardnauth slashed wildly at Bartho, backing him nearly to the window. The cool stone of the wall brushed his back and he tensed, feeling the unpleasant sensation of being cornered. Dropping his next blow, Vardnuath grazed Bartho's sword hand. It was not a serious wound, but it surprised the ranger enough to make him drop his blade.
The twisted elf pounced on the opportunity and kicked the sword away. Giving a hoarse cry he swung one blade across to come down on Bartho's head and the other swung up to gut him.
Bartho, given only a moment to react, quickly moved his both his hands to intercept the two blades and to his surprise managed to catch both the elf's wrists, staying the death blows.
Vardnauth's sneer dropped to a disgusted snarl and he pushed roughly against Bartho's resistance, but the man held and tightened his hold on the elf's slim wrists.
Then Vardnauth relaxed his grip and the higher knife dropped to the floor. Bartho was not ready to loosen his guard, but it was almost an automatic response as both of the wrists in his grip went limp.
Suddenly the elf moved; twisting and jerking at the same time, he loosed his left hand from Bartho's and before the ranger could react he felt the cold fingers press against the sides of his head and heard the elf speak.
"What horrors wait for me here?"
Bartho tensed as a strange, unpleasant feeling spread through his mind.
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Gilraen was unaware of where she was, she had been walking on a cloud talking to Luthien Tinuviel and she remembered humming her favorite tune as they walked, but now the tune had faded, the cloud was gone, Tinuiviel was nowhere in sight, and only a tall bookshelf stood in front of her.
Gilraen was scared for a moment, had she wandered into a nightmare by mistake? Why was everything so dark? She couldn't be home, Ada always left torches lit at home.
The little girl was aware of someone else in the room and in her half-awake stupor she thought she heard her father's footsteps.
"Ada?" Her tiny voice broke the ominous silence as she stretched out into the dark.
His wrist was caught in the hand of a darkened figure and she felt her fingers go numb as her wrist was squeezed tightly.
"Hello, little one." A totally unfamiliar voice met Gilaraen's ears and she tried to pull away.
"No! Go away! Ada!"
"Your Ada isn't here, little one, you're all alone." The small child squirmed at the voice and tried to twist away again, but the man pulled her forward, drawing something from his cloak. "Maybe he'll see you again… but you'll be going first."
Gilraen was confused by the words. "Where are we going?" And then she saw what the man held in his hand.
TBC…
