A/N: I am back, at last, from my vacation. T'was quite fun, and although there were hardly any large mammalian creatures to be found (which meant less adventure) I had quite a time of it. And got pine sap in my hair. :)
Anyway, I must offer my sincere thanks to the good readers who were patient in waiting for this chapter (and with me for all the dreadful cliffhangers I've thrown your way). Your reviews have been as a light in a foggy sea...or something like that.
Updates Mondays and Fridays. Enjoy. ;)
Chapter 11
The plan worked at first. Éowyn pointed into the blackness and shouted "Gollum!", knocked out one of the guards as Amrothos knocked out the other (Faramir had only one arm that he could use, and so let the others do the fighting) and then Faramir and Amrothos put on the men's helmets and began walking, one on either side of Éowyn, quickly but not conspicuously down one of the passageways. They were doing all right until the third group of men they ran into—apparently replacement guards for the prisoners. As the men shouted in surprise at seeing Éowyn away from the holding area, the three turned down another corridor—the corridor that supposedly led to the exit—and ran for it.
Faramir, who ordinarily would have led, lagged behind the others. Every step jarred his arm terribly, and his aching head made it hard to run in a straight line. At last he shouted for the others to go ahead and turned to distract their pursuers.
Amrothos and Éowyn continued on. They had studied the map carefully, but even now they couldn't be sure if this was the right corridor to take if one wanted to find the exit. And if the worst came to the worst, at least they could hide and wander around in the dark until they found the light.
As the two of them blundered forward, though, something solid came bowling out of the blackness and knocked Éowyn to the ground (she felt a twinge of unwelcome pain in her foot), shrieking about "The Lights! They hurts us, precious!" Sheer luck, it was. Éowyn and Amrothos would have exchanged a look, but, as it was too dark to see the other's face, it would've been no good.
"So we did see Gollum after all," Amrothos quipped as he helped Éowyn to her feet. "How ironic that he should be the one to help us found our way out."
"If I was speaking to you, I might agr—ah!" Éowyn broke off suddenly with a cry of pain and staggered. "My ankle!"
Behind them, they could hear their pursuers approaching. Torchlight flickered from around the bend, and Éowyn saw the torn look in Amrothos eyes.
"Go," she said quietly, knowing that he knew that she wasn't going to make it with him. "Go and find help. They won't hurt me."
He turned to go, but then paused and looked back at her.
"I didn't mean what I said. About your willingness not mattering."
She grinned despite herself and replied, "Just go, Amrothos, or I'll never speak to you again!"
And he went.
They bound her wrists behind her and took her back to the holding area where four guards were now stationed around a glum-looking Faramir. Éowyn's captors untied her and she sank down by the side of her friend.
"Did Ro make it?" Faramir asked, the urgency in his eyes belying the calmness of his voice.
She hesitated, but then nodded. "I think so. I gave him as much time as I could."
A brief snatch that one of the men who had brought her back was telling to one of the guards about 'that wildcat of a girl' brought a smile to Faramir's lips.
The smile faded when the tall man they had decided was Mordeth approached the guards, a dark look of grimness hanging about his face. After exchanging a few words with the men on duty, he stepped past them and stood before Éowyn and Faramir, looking down at them with something a little like admiration and a little like hatred.
"I should have known you would try some foolish escape, Lady Éowyn," the man said with a sort of smile. "If you or your companion even attempt such a thing again, be assured that it will end in death. Your ransom means little to me, however if you promise to behave, I'll try to see that you live to see your family again.
"Your other friend," Mordeth continued, "is being traced even now. He cannot hide from my hunters, even in the blackness of these caves. We will find him, and he will share in your punishment."
"Punishment?" Éowyn asked. Her voice shook and she cursed internally for sounding so weak. "My Uncle will be most angry if I am harmed—I, or my companions."
"So, they're your companions now," said the dark man with a little chuckle. "Not strangers met by chance in the underneath. Amrothos of Dol Amroth, third son of Prince Imrahil. Really, highness, I had no idea your uncle's people had dealings with Belfalas. Thank you for that tender bit of information—a bit that I shall not hesitate to pass on to a higher command."
Éowyn's eyes narrowed, but it was Faramir who said, quietly, "Who are you?"
Mordeth stared at him impassively, and then raised an eyebrow mockingly.
"What? Then the other lad of Gondor—Erchirion, perhaps? Or someone else altogether—has drawn no conclusion?"
"He was only giving you a chance to answer for yourself," Éowyn snapped fiercely. "We know who you are—Mordeth."
At last the man stiffened and barely veiled his surprise with a stare.
"Well, well," he said after a moment. "The little maid is a detective. Why am I not surprised? What else do you know, highness?"
"That you're the one behind the horses disappearing from our stables—all our dark horses," Éowyn retorted while Faramir wondered whether telling the man all they knew was wise. "That you are the enemy of my uncle and a servant of Mordor!"
It seemed to Faramir as though Éowyn was merely grasping at straws now, but Mordeth denied none of her accusations. Instead he watched her musingly and stroked his beardless chin.
"Most impressive, Lady Éowyn. But you cannot truly know all of that, can you? Of what use would horses be to Mordor?"
When Éowyn failed to answer, Mordeth smiled and added, "I suppose, my dear, that it wouldn't hurt to tell you.
"You see, Mordor does not breed its own horses. Somehow, the climate and atmosphere is not deemed beneficial for the raising of the equine, so we must make deals with nations that do breed such beasts: namely, Rohan. And when Théoden, your precious king," this he sneered, "would not sell to Mordor, what could we do but steal what we needed?"
The scope of this left Éowyn trembling and Faramir at a loss. Mordeth grinned at their reaction, and before turning to go added, "I shall return in an hour. We're packing up and leaving with an escort of Orcs from my lord Sauron. You will join us, to a safe passage through the lands of Rohan, and in Mordor we might release you to return. If you're good."
And with that he left them and let silence and fear do their work.
Ten minutes passed. At last Éowyn stirred and moved closer to Faramir.
"How is your arm?" she asked, though there was no emotion behind the words.
"As I said before," Faramir replied calmly, although it hurt like the dickens, "it will heal."
"I'm…" Éowyn paused and looked down at the ground, "I'm sorry I got you and your cousin into this mess. If I hadn't lost my balance on the edge of that hole…"
"It could have happened to anyone," said Faramir gently.
Éowyn gave him a grateful look and added, "Thanks for catching hold of me—and for breaking my fall. At least," she wrinkled her nose, "I think it was you."
Faramir shook his head (how it ached!) and said, "You're welcome. I only wish you could've been the one to escape."
Éowyn gave him a fake look of shock and snickered.
"You don't mean that you prefer Amrothos' company to mine?"
Something stirred in his heart at the words, and at the valiant attempt she was making to be brave, and he shook his head again.
"On the contrary, my lady. Your presence makes even waiting for one's death bearable."
He'd meant it for a joke (even flattery, mayhap?), but Éowyn winced.
"They might not kill you—us—you know."
"Not now, maybe," replied Faramir, shifting his weight and rubbing his arm thoughtfully, "but they wouldn't let us live with what we know. It's only a matter of now or later. And I'd almost prefer now if it comes to having to choose."
There was a moment of silence, and then Éowyn let out a little sigh.
"You're so awfully brave about everything. I try to be brave, but sometimes—like right now—I don't feel very brave at all."
"Neither do I," Faramir confessed. "But I can pretend I'm brave, and then after pretending for long enough I convince myself along with everybody else."
She reached out and found his hand, and they held on to each other and sanity while they waited in the darkness.
They were still stumbling around the countryside looking for Farothul's secret entrance when the fair-haired boy appeared. Éomer, of course, saw him first and shouted out a challenge. Boromir, only a few feet away, let out a cry when he caught sight of the boy and started yelling for his uncle, something about Amrothos, who, Éomer recalled, was Imrahil's son. The one that the man swore would drive him to drink.
Éomer was nearest the boy to begin with, but Boromir passed him at a full gallop and half-tackled his cousin to the ground as he leapt off his horse and greeted the boy. Éomer reached him next.
"…and I kept feeling around in the black but I couldn't find the way up the tunnel until I realized that I had to climb, and then I could see the light coming down, and then it was full daylight but it hurt my eyes so I could hardly see for five minutes. Everything's still awfully fuzzy. But the light—the light! It's so good to be able to see again!"
He was babbling on and Boromir was listening with a smile, but Éomer dismounted and said, bluntly, "Where's Éowyn."
The boy turned and gave him a wide-eyed stare.
"Éowyn? She's still in the tunn—,"
Éomer shoved past him and walked toward the hillside. Sure enough, there was a hole that led down into what looked like pure blackness. He would've crawled in that instant, but Boromir grabbed his arm and held him back.
"Wait," he said. If it had been Imrahil, Éomer would have ignored him. But since Boromir's brother was still missing as well, Éomer waited.
"When I find that girl, I'm going to break up her sword in front of her eyes and sell her favorite mare to the gypsies. I'll make her sleep on the stone floor and tell Uncle she wants to wear fancy dresses every day, and then, I'll—,"
"You're her brother, aren't you?" the boy asked abruptly. Éomer nodded, and the boy, brushing his straw-colored hair out of his eyes, said, "I thought so. You're very like her. She's got quite a temper, that girl. She's not speaking to me."
Éomer harrumphed. "That probably means she likes you," he said, and then regretted it.
Another horse was approaching at a gallop. Éomer hardly had time to recognize Imrahil on its back before the man swung down and seized his son in a mighty embrace that lasted a good ten seconds. Then the prince drew back and gripped the boy's shoulders, shaking him as he let his relief turn to anger.
"Amrothos, you miscreant! Can you not stay out of trouble for even one hour? Truly, I ought to give you a royal beating for this little adventure—worse yet, send you home in disgrace. What were you thinking, boy? Why is it that you only think of yourself when you get yourself into such scrapes? Will you never learn?"
"Father," Amrothos began, but before he could continue, his father pulled him into another crushing hug and held him tightly. When he released him this second time, Amrothos told the three of them (plus Theodred, who had arrived in the middle of Amrothos' upbraiding) about Mordeth and Éowyn's theory about the horses. When he'd finished, Theodred stroked his chin and looked thoughtful.
"Someone must warn Father and search out this entryway in the stable. I'll send a messenger."
Imrahil put the reins in the hands of his son and jerked his head toward Edoras.
"No need. Amrothos will go."
"But Father," Amrothos protested. Imrahil held up a hand at which the lad respectfully stopped.
"Ride back to the city and tell the king what you've told us. Moreover, once you arrive, do not leave its walls."
"But Father—,"
"Obey me, Amrothos," Imrahil snapped. "Do as I say."
Biting back what looked like more protests, Amrothos mounted and wheeled his horse around. During the gallop toward Edoras, he drew his father's horse to a halt at the top of a hill and watched as his father and six others one by one disappeared into the entrance of the tunnel.
It was one of the rare times in his life that Amrothos ever felt like crying.
To be continued...
