A Matter of Trust
Kaleidopy
IthilienA familiar mimic birdcall sounded, announcing the arrival of the scouting party. Damrod rose from his crouched position, waiting patiently for Anborn to make his appearance. The moon-less night made visibility difficult, but living in the Ithilien Forest for nearly ten years had trained his eyes to adjust to the dark surroundings.
His keen sense of hearing heard a twig snap. Instinct and experience had taught him precaution; he readied his bow, preparing to strike in case the enemy had learned the ranger's secret call. His unit followed his example, anxiously waiting for whatever awaited them to make an appearance.
Seconds later, Anborn emerged from the thick shrubbery with several weary rangers trailing close behind. "Lower your bows," Damrod instructed, releasing a sigh of relief when Anborn's party was identified, they were tired but otherwise unharmed.
Since the ambush of a small scouting company patrolling near the crosswords two weeks ago, the rangers had become more edgy than usual. Finding the mutilated bodies of fifteen men discarded along the Harad Road would strike fear into the bravest of souls, but when the decapitated heads of the slain men were discovered hanging from a grove of trees, fear quickly turned to retribution. Somewhere in Ithilien, lurked sadists who enjoyed their profession. Whether the sadists were Gondorian, Rohirrim, or agents of Sauron, they had to be captured.
However, the hunt for the sadists were short lived when scouts discovered citizens crossing the Anduin to enter the orc infested Ithilien.
Concerned about the citizens' sanity as well as their safety, the scouting party escorted their fellow Gondorians back across the great river, and urged them to return home or seek settlement in another fiefdom.
If the rangers believed it was a one-time incident, they were sadly mistaken. A week later, another group attempted the same feat and met with the same result. When the travelers revealed they were settlers from Lossarnach, and had crossed the River Anduin, suspicion grew among the rangers. Something odd was happening in Lossarnach.
"What news, Anborn?" Damrod asked, clasping the younger man's arm in greeting.
"Madril sends word from Henneth Annûn. No orcs between Osgiliath and Cair Andros." Anborn said, lowering his hood to address his commanding officer. He untied a small pouch that was tied to his belt and gave it to Damrod. "Camgond brings messages from other companies. Furthermore, we hurried a small group of orcs near the crossways."
"Survivors?"
"Two. They retreated into Mordor."
Damrod sighed, dreading the report he would have to give his captain. "The steward will blame…"
"The steward need not know," Anborn said, quickly lowering his voice. "Tis not right. The rangers patrol Ithilien and aids the garrisons at Osgiliath and Cair Andres, yet Lord Denethor denies credit…"
"Hold your tongue," the lieutenant commanded, silencing the angry ranger with his sharp tongue. Three new recruits assigned to his unit glanced up after overhearing Anborn's remark. Damrod held their gaze until they lowered their eyes or turned away. As much as he hated reprimanding Anborn openly, protocol remained a priority until the new recruits earned his trust.
"Apologies, lieutenant," Anborn replied with a slight bow, realizing the mistake he had made. As a seasoned ranger, he knew better than to speak openly in front of those who had yet to earn the respect of the Ithilien Rangers. He intentionally raised his voice, making sure the eavesdroppers heard his choice words. "My words were poorly chosen. I blame fatigue and hunger."
The feigned apology had the desired effect both rangers wanted. The tension in the air lifted and the recruits began speaking to one another in soft voices.
Damrod walked several feet to a more isolated location, motioning Anborn to follow. Anborn had stated what many felt, himself included, but respect for Faramir kept those feelings buried whenever their captain was in their company.
Once the two men were alone, Damrod whispered, "Would you have me write falsehoods in my report? You know well, the captain carries them when he speaks with the council."
Anborn cringed, hearing the council mentioned. He had no love for the politics of Minas Tirith or the fiefdom lords who considered Ithilien a liability when it came to enforcing Gondor's military borders. "If it protects Captain Faramir's position, aye," Anborn answered. "Mablung, and many others would agree with me."
Anborn spoke the truth. Faramir need not know. Whenever the council gathered in Minas Tirith for the quarterly meeting, the captain graciously allowed different rangers to accompany him to the white city, granting them freedom to enjoy the luxuries denied in the Ithilien woods. The one time Damrod accompanied Faramir, he irrationally joined his captain inside the conference chambers. A bureaucrat representing Lamedon considered Ithilien a burden, and made a request to divert Ithilien's funds for items that were laughable.
Nevertheless, Faramir had remained diplomatic, respecting the fool's position, but Damrod wasn't held to those standards. He angrily voiced his opinion until the citadel guards forcibly escorted him from the tower hall. Later a guard joined him in a tavern, and told him what had happened after his expulsion. Lord Angbor had apologized to the council for the official's behavior, but asked why Gondor continued to supply and fund Ithilien when its citizens had evacuated the region long ago. The steward declared as long as the rangers kept Sauron's allies from reaching the River Anduin, Ithilien would be appropriately maintained.
The unpleasant memory decided Damrod's dilemma. He would falsify the report and live with the consequences. Two orcs were not worth another unpleasant trip to Minas Tirith. He turned to the ranger, noticing the man kept looking over his shoulder. Suspicious, he asked, "Anborn, what troubles you?"
Anborn sighed, reluctant to add more grief to the lieutenant's list. "Sir, we have guests. From Lossarnach."
"How many?" Damrod asked. The routine was becoming a nuisance.
"Seven and ten," Anborn answered, nodding towards another ranger who disappeared into the shrubbery and returned with ten men and seven women. Each glanced nervously at one another but none spoke. Anborn added, "Tis the third time in as many days travelers have entered Ithilien from Lossarnach."
"We will not go back," a man suddenly found the courage to speak.
Damrod turned to a man, believing him to be the spokesperson. "What say you?"
"Lossarnach is naught what it appears," the man answered, and then lowered his eyes to avoid the ranger's inquiring eyes. "Taxes have increased twice in as many months, and those who cannot pay, have their lands seized. The people talk of rebellion."
"Rebellion?" Damrod asked, doubt lacing his words. Mutters echoed in confusion nearby. Lord Forlong was a respectable man, beloved by not only his people but by the Rangers of Ithilien as well. Forlong understood the rangers' worth and value to Gondor's safety. He secretly provided the rangers of Ithilien with food, clothing, and equipment when the Gondorian council refused such rare request. Rebellion against the beloved lord was unimaginable.
"Lord Forlong is an honorable man. Speak not against his rule." Anborn warned. "The lord of Lossarnach travels to Lamedon. Others rule in his stead under orders by the Steward of Gondor."
"Tis what I feared," the man spoke again. He angrily turned to his companions. "Power corrupts even the honorable steward. Lord Denethor is in league with…"
The words fell silent, but Damrod understood their meaning and fear the citizens suddenly felt. Speaking publicly against the powerful steward carried a high penalty. "Fear not," he said, attempting to ease their suspicions. "Your words will naught reach Lord Denethor's ears."
"Gratitude, kind sir," the woman replied, releasing a relieved sigh. She finally felt secure enough to speak the truth. "Many tried to cross into Lebennin but discovered the south road blocked by mercenaries. The White Mountains, we cannot attempt, and entering Osgiliath is too dangerous." She turned back towards the direction of the river. "The River Anduin remained the only choice to reach Pelargir, but our raft broke apart and we drifted into Ithilien."
"Ithilien is naught our destination," another man replied. He glanced worriedly into the forest, noticing how dark, dank and evil the land appeared. "We will travel southward, along the river's shore and make our way to Pelargir."
"Nay, tis too dangerous. Several rangers will escort you safely across the river and into Lebennin," Damrod said. Under the military and council's orders, the sadist killings were kept quiet so not to alarm the surrounding provinces' population. He turned to two rangers, calling their names. "Offer our guests provisions and provide them accommodations for the night. In the morn, you and thirty men will escort our guests to their destination."
The two rangers nodded respectfully and directed the group towards a grove of trees.
The woman stayed behind. "The Ithilien Rangers and their commander are honorable men." She squeezed the lieutenant's arm, smiling for the first time. "My brother is a guard. A guard of the Citadel," she announced proudly. "He speaks only of respect for your captain."
"Captain Faramir would be honored by your kind words," Damrod said, wishing Faramir had delayed his trip to Minas Tirith long enough to have witnessed what his ears had just heard. Complements were rare, especially where their young captain was concerned. Since his promotion nine months ago, Faramir worked non-stop to prove to those in certain circles that his rank was earned, not given.
"I would like to met the Captain of the Ithilien Rangers."
"Naught would please me more, however, Captain Faramir is with another company this night," Damrod answered. Noticing her disappointment, he added, "Doubt not, the captain will be told of your plight and your kind words. Now join your companions. The trip is long and the hours until morn are short."
She nodded, obeying with another gratitude of thanks.
He watched the woman follow her companions into the darkness where they would be escorted to a secure location for the night. Thankfully, it wasn't too chilled to cause any discomfort for the woman and her friends. With fires forbidden, unprepared visitors traveling with the rangers found themselves second-guessing their decision.
With the unexpected arrival of the Lossarnachians, Damrod had to reassign several men from his unit to accommodate the group, and messages needed to be sent to the captain and the other lieutenants over the recent events. Informing Madril at Henneth Annûn would be the easiest, but reaching Faramir would prove the most difficult.
Yesterday, the steward's personal messenger had arrived unexpectedly, interrupting a late evening strategy session between Faramir and his lieutenants. After the message had been delivered, the captain learned he was ordered to Minas Tirith before dawn.
"Anborn," he called, signaling the ranger to his side. "Send Camgond to Cair Andres. Perhaps he can intercept the captain before he leaves the island for Minas Tirith."
"With all due respect, sir. The captain left hours ago," Anborn said, glancing up into the night sky. "And judging by the stars position, he should have already left Cair Andres."
Contradicting Anborn would have been useless. The ranger possessed the unique ability to quote time by a simple glance at the sky, and then use that skill to judge travel time. Anborn's gifts proved valuable during scouting detail, travel planning, and unit placement.
He glanced upwards, staring at the stars twinkling back at him. Perhaps the Valar had finally smiled on the rangers this night. Though Hirgon's arrival with the steward's summons had been unforeseen, it justified him not informing the captain of tonight's events.