"Faramir!"
Éowyn's cry reverberated through the trees, Windfola trotting along, her anxiety pressing the horse forward faster than she even knew he was traveling. Enguina and Gimli rode parallel to her about forty feet away to either side, scanning the forest floor for any signs of life or travel. They had been able to follow Dwimor's path easily enough; the horse had been wandering in the woods quite lamely so they covered ground much more quickly than he had.
Enguina had never felt quite the dread, the horror, the absolute fear that threatened to eat her alive from the inside out that she felt now. This was different than her nightmares…this was real and it was happening right in from of her eyes. Her throat was raw, just as Éowyn's was, from calling for her love; they had to be here…somewhere in these woods. Why had the Rangers not listened to Éowyn earlier when she had told them they needed to be found? Why had she just remained silent, seated on that rock for the past hour when she should have been out searching herself? Hours they had been out here, possibly hurt…perhaps dying…or heaven forbid it, dead already.
Ilúvatar! My sanctuary! I cry out to you! I am desperate for your peace, your hope…please! Where is he? Where are they, Faramir, Legolas? Please, I have never felt so much desperation, Father! Not even for myself! Where is he? Help me find him! Help me, god, please!
Enguina's breath caught as she tried to call out Legolas's name again; she heard Gimli do it instead. She reached up to furiously wipe away the tears that threatened to fall, and she tried to pull herself together. There was no way she could lose him; she would be lost forever, never to again find herself, to live, to breathe…she could not face life without Legolas at her side. She could feel the darkness coming at her from all sides; she was frantically driving it back.
"Faramir!"
"Éowyn!" cried Galen, his voice a little way ahead. Enguina's head shot up and she watched as he dismounted quickly beside a fallen figure. "This man is dead!"
"One of ours?" Éowyn turned Windfola towards him.
"No…he appears to be of Gondorian descent, but not a soldier."
"I see another!" called Gimli, dismounting himself and hurrying to another fallen figure discovered in the moonlight. "This man's an elf!" Enguina turned Lómë toward him and studied the face from horseback.
"Mirkwood features," she added, and then saw another lying on his back not two feet to her right. Her voice showed her surprise as she said, "This one is of Lórien descent."
"What are they doing out here?" asked Éowyn.
"This elf was shot by a Gondorian arrow," Gimli pointed out.
"The man was shot by a Lórien arrow," added Galen, and Enguina's breath caught again. "My guess is Legolas and Faramir both fought here."
Éowyn spurred Windfola forward around another tree as she kept scanning the ground. She pulled up short and yelled loudly, "Enguina! Come here and look at these men!" Enguina immediately rode to her side and looked down to where Éowyn pointed, studying the ground and the prone figures. "What can you read in that?" she asked, turning Windfola away. "Faramir!" she called again.
"Legolas," Enguina breathed, and dismounted, seeing the clear and precise cuts on two of the figures, the last haphazardly killed. Shoving a foot under the man, she kicked him over onto his back, and then leaned down and yanked Legolas's white knife from between his ribs. She wiped it and tucked it down into her belt, unable to hang it anywhere else. Something had happened…something awful…
"The elf wouldn't be without that," she heard Gimli say, and though she searched around for its mate, she could not find it. She gave up, instead looking for signs of Legolas.
"Faramir!" She heard Éowyn scream, and it was in the turn of her tone that Enguina knew she had found him. She left Lómë standing where he was and she fled in the direction of Éowyn's voice. The woman herself was running towards a prone figure; even in the moonlight it was clear Faramir was badly wounded. She could hear the other Rangers trotting over towards them, and she watched as Éowyn dropped to her knees beside her husband, tears glistening in the moonlight that shined to the forest floor through the trees.
"Eru be merciful!" Éowyn wept, and her hands fell on him and became slick with blood as they touched his tunic. She reached up and felt his face. "He is so cold…" she moaned, and Enguina went to her, flooded with terror that Faramir was dead. She had to get Éowyn away from him, had to know if he was alive, if there was anything they could do to save him. The woman before her yanked off her cloak and covered him with it, arrows protruding out from his left side and one from his right leg. He lay half on his side, an arrow jutting out from his back, the arrow preventing him from being able to be rolled over; it must have been excruciatingly painful to be trapped like that.
"Éowyn, come away…let Galen—"
"No, no!" she cried out as Galen drew near. "He is mine! My responsibility! My husband!" Her hands were on his face trying to be sure there was life in his cheeks, searching for the slightest bit of warmth. "Faramir," she whimpered, even as Galen tried to draw her back, "Faramir…god, please!"
For the briefest of moments, Enguina saw the moonlight reflected in the man's eyes, and she felt her breath catch, fearing the worst; then he blinked and the relief she felt buckled her knees. Gimli caught her; she had never realized he had been that close, and he lowered her to the ground, her hand over her heart as she tried to collect herself.
"Éowyn…" Faramir breathed, and she broke down, pressing her forehead to his as she began to sob as she stroked his hair, her tears falling on his face. "Sorry…sorry…" His voice was broken from exhaustion, thirst, and pain.
"You are going to be all right," she gasped out as she tried to breathe. "You are going to be fine, fine!" She felt his eyes flutter closed against her cheek and then open again with a serious struggle. Lifting her head, she wrapped her hands around his face again, looking down into them. "Hold on with me, love…hold on."
"Legolas…" he groaned, and Enguina suddenly lunged forward out of Gimli's grasp as both of them launched themselves to Faramir's side.
"What about 'im, lad?" cried Gimli frantically. "Where is he!? There's no sign of him!"
Faramir coughed once, pain spreading across his features as tears fell on Enguina's face. She wanted so badly to do what Éowyn was doing, to touch Faramir, to cling to him, as she would have done to Legolas. "Enguina…" he whispered, and then she did reach out and touch him, grasping his arm a bit more forcefully than she should have.
Somehow, she found her voice, and forced out, "I am here, Faramir."
He could not look at her; he had no strength to turn his head. His eyes closed and he muttered, "They took him…they took him."
"Rest, Faramir," she whispered. The man knew nothing else, and Éowyn's hands were beginning to shake. She lifted her eyes to Galen. "You need to get him back to Henneth Annûn, immediately. He needs a healer."
"He needs the King," Gimli stated, and nodded towards Éowyn, "and she is going to collapse."
Enguina reached over and stroked Éowyn's hair, the woman's brow now once again pressed to Faramir's. Éowyn's whole body was shaking; Enguina did not like where that might be headed. She turned back to Galen. "Take them back; Gimli and I and a few of your other men will—"
"This one is alive!" they heard Hiron call from a few yards away. "An elf…badly wounded, but alive."
Gimli turned immediately, snarling, "Let me at him! I'll tear him apart!"
Enguina threw herself to her feet and grabbed his arm. "Gimli, he is unconscious! He cannot tell you anything!"
"Wake him, then!" he growled. "We'll have answers, or we'll have his head!"
A low sigh from off to their right caught their sudden attention, and they turned to see Glosbrethil, standing in the moonlight, his flea-bitten coat now stained with dirt and blood. He was not bearing any weight on his left side, and his saddle had slid off to the right, his reins broken and tangled around the briars that he had somehow found himself in. Unable to rescue himself, he could not escape, and he had been abandoned.
"Oh, Brethil," Enguina murmured, stroking his bloody and scratched face where he had clearly been trying to escape. Gimli and she made short work of the briars, freeing the stallion. He nickered once and sighed, and for a moment Enguina fervently wished that she could understand their language like Aragorn could. But she could understand at least that Brethil felt guilt, and she touched him. "It is not your fault," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "We will find him."
She discovered that Gimli had, at least for the moment, forgotten all about the elf; Hiron, with the help of another Ranger, was getting the unconscious prisoner on horseback. They tied his wrists and then Hiron mounted behind him; they would need to hurry back to Henneth Annûn if they were to save him and Faramir. Faramir had also been dragged onto a horse, the arrows removed and the wounds bound as well as they could be for the moment. He was unconscious, and his head hung down; Éowyn stood near his leg, simply unable to take her hands from him, tears still pouring down her face. Enguina went to her and took her in her arms.
"Shh…" she said, holding Éowyn tightly, pressing her cheek to her forehead. "You found him. You found him and he is going to be all right. Stop worrying…go back to the Pool, care for your husband. Everything is going to be all right."
"Legolas," Éowyn whispered, and Enguina steeled everything inside herself that brought despair and thrust it from her like a disease.
"We will find him. You need to go back; let Gimli and I worry for Legolas. Faramir, and that babe within you," she said softly, "they need you now. Give them your heart, Éowyn, and leave me to find mine."
Éowyn knew in that moment she would not see Enguina that night in Henneth Annûn, nor Gimli. There was no way possible that they would not ride after the strangers that had come, and she knew that she would have done much the same. "Please be safe. I will pray ceaselessly."
"And I for you. Go," she said, kissing her on the forehead and releasing her. As Éowyn turned away, Enguina saw two men galloping off into the woods away from Galen who held Faramir upright, Gimli near the man's foot.
"We ride for Henneth Annûn," Galen called to his men. "See what you can find here, and join us as quickly as you may. If there are any more survivors, bring them back to the caverns. We will question them."
As soon as Éowyn was mounted once more on Windfola, the group was in motion, Glosbrethil trailing behind, ponied to one of the Rangers mounts. Enguina watched them go with a heavy heart until she could see them no more, Gimli at her side as several of the other Rangers continued searching the area. Then both of them turned to see what other messages lay strewn about for them to find among the dead; their eyes peeled for the trail they knew they would find no matter what they needed to do…the one that would lead them to Legolas.
Sweat pouring down her back, Arwen woke with a cry on her lips, bolting upright in bed, gasping for breath. The covers fell from her and into her lap as she reached a shaking hand to touch her face. She felt Aragorn's hand in her damp hair, listened to her own breathing, felt him sit up beside her.
"Arwen?" he said, alarmed. This was not a nightmare about the child; this was different, and he knew it immediately. His hand fell onto her upper back and then traveled to her shoulders; her nightdress was soaking wet. "You are trembling," he whispered. "What has happened?"
"A dream…" she replied, her voice shaking like her hands. She felt the adrenaline course through her again, an urgent need, a desperate plea; she could not remember the dream. "Something…" she gasped, "something urgent…something dreadful…"
"What? What is it? Enguina?" She shook her head. She knew what he meant; she had dreams of Enguina before, of the past. These were not of the past, but of the future; that much was clear to her. She felt his warmth try to control her trembling. "What did you feel? Can you remember?"
"Pain…agony…" she whispered, lowering her head into her hand, pain pulsing through her skull from the tension. "Suffering, Aragorn…" Her voice was thick with worry, anxiety; she felt his fingers slide into her hair, rubbing from her scalp down the back of her neck. He knew just where it ached.
"New?" She nodded. "Was it centered on a person?"
"I do not know," she said, "but…I am afraid."
That worried him. Usually, her dreams were of events that had happened already, that were weighing on her, such as the child or Enguina's difficulties. This was different, and Elvish premonitions were not to be taken lightly for any reason. He was silent for a few moments, thinking; in the morning, he would send out messengers toward Ithilien, and he would call for more guards. This was within reason; whatever he needed to do, he would see it done.
"I…" she began again, reaching up to cover his hand with her own, hers like ice, "I feel a great need to pray…please…" He took her hand in his own and brought it to his lips before bringing her whole head to him, pressing his lips to her hair before resting his brow against her head.
"Father, Father, we come before you tonight," he whispered, "two souls seeking you for peace, for mercy. Somewhere, someone desperately needs you tonight, or they will need you soon. Find them, seek them out, and show them your great love, your strength…that even as this shadow passes over them, they will see your face and know you are near. Great Ilúvatar, Father of All, know our hearts. Whatever Arwen has seen, bring your healing into it, to calm the storm; even if we cannot know what it is, we know that you can bring it to peace.
"We think about those we love in Ithilien," he continued softly, and he felt her shoulders tighten. "We cannot help but worry that they are safe when they are so far from us. Protect them; keep them in your care and your comfort. May your presence rest in and around them; who should they fear when you are close beside? May your everlasting light reign in the darkness."
"Amen," she whispered, and though she felt a little more ease, the memory of the pain and grief remained locked in her mind.
"It will be all right," he told her gently. The worrisome thought that their five loved ones were in danger threatened to overwhelm him. There was nothing they could do at the moment except what they had already done. She was beginning to shiver now against him, and he slowly took her back down with him under their sheets and tugged her closely into his chest as she pressed her damp forehead to his neck.
"I am so afraid for them," she said, fear choking her, even as she tried to give the worry to Ilúvatar. "I almost feel as though I cannot get warm. I am struggling to close my eyes."
"When you do, do you see anything?"
"No…just flashes of feelings," she said.
Arwen pressed herself against him as tightly as she could. The dreams weighed heavily on her mind; they laid there like that for what seemed like hours, all the while she begged Ilúvatar for peace, just to let her find some bliss in sleep. How could sleep find her? How could it, when all she could think of was that something terrible was happening elsewhere? She felt her heart tighten, felt tears threaten, and she pressed her face closer into Aragorn's neck and he held her even tighter, his embrace like the warmth of a hearth.
She felt the vibration of his throat against her head before she realized that his humming was reaching her ears. Her eyes fluttered closed finally then, his song comforting, soothing her aching heart. He knew what she was feeling; he felt it as keenly as she did, but they knew nothing, only her dream and her urgency. She was so thankful for him in that moment that she nearly lost the fight to keep the tears from coming.
The doorway creaked, and Aragorn immediately lifted his head from hers, his music stopping. He sat up when he recognized the figure, and Arwen sat up as well, looking over towards the doorway.
"Annî?" he asked, seeing her silhouette in the moonlight. "Is everything all right?" They watched as she shook her head, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. "Come here, Annî." The little girl shook her head again, and Arwen tossed her legs over the side of the bed and walked towards her. Annî ran into her open arms, burying her face in Arwen's legs.
Arwen ran her fingers through her hair. "Did you have a dream, chên nîn?"
"I saw the cat, Tiriel," she whispered. "It was big and angry and it was going to eat me."
Arwen leaned down and scooped her up into her arms, kissing her face. "It is all right," she whispered. "It was only a dream."
"Can I stay here with you?" she pleaded.
Arwen turned back to the bed and wondered if they should. Would she even be able to sleep herself? Did she want the child between her and Aragorn when she was selfish of his care, his love? Was it all right to allow the child, even still so young, to sleep among them? Would Faramir and Éowyn allow her? Aragorn met her eyes and nodded; the decision made.
Soon, Annî was sandwiched between the two of them, her head tucked into Arwen's chest and Aragorn's arm over both of them. She lay there quietly, eyes wide open, as Arwen stroked her hair and Aragorn's fingers played with the back of Arwen's, his left arm wrapped over the top of her pillow.
Minutes passed as the two of them lay there with her, and then Andúnêiel's voice broke the silence. "I can't sleep."
Neither can I, precious. "Shh…" Arwen whispered, "just try to close your eyes." She stroked her face and the little girl did try, snuggling closer between them. Arwen looked over at Aragorn and could feel herself almost begging for him. He smiled, and began humming softly again.
It was Annî who sighed first, her eyes easily closing; Arwen had been feeling it welling up inside herself long before that. The peace of Aragorn was what everyone in the House seemed to need at the moment. Even though Arwen was usually the lullaby-maker, tonight it was Aragorn who needed to soothe both of them. The words of his song lulled them both to sleep.
In the hush of evening when all the world should be asleep
Oft we find that it is our own company we keep
When all alone and trouble seems to close in all around
The One takes us in his care and keeps us safe and sound
In the care of morning when dawn is drawing near
A bit of peace we have to breathe in the cool and calming air
The light of morning chases the darkness, fast and far away
And all we have becomes our hope within the light of day
Hope, and dream, instead of fear, for when trouble is nigh
The One is watching over you, His presence at your side.
Enguina leaned quietly against a tree, feeling the exhaustion of the last three hours very heavily. Gimli still wandered among the Rangers, still searching for any other sign of Legolas, but this was a bit too much for her; blood, gore, death…these were not her normal circles. Her hands began to wring themselves on their own accord, terror coursing through her. Fear and worry had been her constant companions since before dinner, now they gnawed at her even as she stood silently.
I must find him…I must find him. The words played over and over again in her mind; there was an ache inside her to know that he was safe, to bring the people who had done this to justice would be satisfying, but it would not bring her peace. No, the only thing that would bring peace was crushing herself against Legolas's chest and tightening her arms around him and not releasing him until they had been married a week. The thought made her smile.
"My Lady," a voice off to her left spoke. She lifted her head and tried to remember the man's name. She had been lost in her thoughts, and therefore had barely noticed that most of the Rangers were on horseback already. Tandaarin…that was his name…
"What is happening?" she asked, confused. "Tandaarin, where are your men going?"
"We have discovered everything we can here, and we were told to report back to Henneth Annûn as soon as things here were complete. We have burned the bodies," he added, frowning.
"There has been no sign of Prince Legolas?" she asked him, and he shook his head.
"No, Lady…nothing. Lord Gimli found some tracks leading off to the northwest, but we are unsure if they are the tracks of the men who must have taken him. Either way, it is time to return home. We can do no more tonight."
She stared at him, uncomprehending. "Forgive me, Tandaarin…what are you saying?"
He looked at her apologetically. "I mean that we are under orders to return immediately, they were understood for all of us, for you and Lord Gimli as well." He gave her a grimace. "Not that I can tell you what to do, my Lady—"
"No, you cannot," she agreed, "and you will not." She shook her head. "I would sooner die before I would stop now, when I have barely begun, and return home. You are under orders, Tandaarin, and I have no such restrictions. Gimli and I will be doing our utmost to follow the trail he has discovered."
"What're we to be doing?" asked Gimli suddenly, coming to their sides and leaning on his axe.
"The Lady insists you shall not return to Henneth Annûn with us," Tandaarin said, sighing heavily. "She said that you will be following the trail."
"Too right we will," Gimli insisted.
"What about the Lady Éowyn? She shall be worried sick about you."
"Lieutenant!" called another one of the Rangers, but Tandaarin ignored him for a moment.
"Éowyn already knows about our leaving," Enguina said. "Do not worry for us, Tandaarin. As soon as you may, you can follow us with more men, but we will be on the hunt as of tonight."
"You can, however," added Gimli, "leave us some of your extra food and waterskins, as we are not packed well-enough for such a journey, and going back will waste far too much time."
"And as many arrows as you can spare," Enguina said with a smile.
"Aye," the man replied, sighing again, "that, at least, I can do. We will follow after you as soon as we may, or as soon as my orders allow me. The Captain, with Lord Faramir sorely wounded, will be far more eager to seek justice, I think." He nodded slowly. "Yes, let me supply you as best I can."
Within several minutes, Enguina had a quiver stuffed full of arrows and they had enough supplies at least for several days of traveling. They knew that traveling alone in this darkness would not be easy, but they could see no other choice; they had to find Legolas. After they had been supplied, Tandaarin mounted his horse as Gimli and Enguina stood beside their mounts near the trail they intended to follow.
"Good hunting, friends, and be safe," he stated.
"Be sure to tell the Lady where we've gone," Gimli added, frowning. "And if you haven't sent messengers yet towards Minas Tirith—"
"Do not worry, Lord Gimli; they were the first set of riders to leave the area."
"And if anyone tries to complain that you didn't stop us, tell 'em that you didn't notice we were gone until it was already too late and that you'd no choice but to let us go," Gimli instructed him.
"I will do that," he laughed. "Again, good hunting!" He held up a hand and then turned, instructing his men to follow him.
As the Rangers of Ithilien filed out on horseback and traveled towards Henneth Annûn once more, Enguina turned to Gimli. "Tell me everything you can about what you found."
The dwarf sighed. "Not much, I'm afraid. I found a trail, as good as it is, and that's the way I think we should be heading out. I am fairly certain that they traveled that way." He tugged on Firgenwine's reins and tossed them over her head. "I'm thinking the faster we get, the faster we'll find him. Most of the men in this area were killed nearly half-a-day ago." He frowned at her; at least the moon was full and they had a clear sky.
She slipped the quiver across her back and took Legolas's wrapped knife and attached it to Lómë's saddle. "Let us follow this path you have found, Gimli," she said softly as she mounted gracefully. "We have lost so much time, but perhaps we can gain on them. Let us stay to their trail as much as we can."
"At least we've got the light for it," Gimli admitted as he mounted. "I'll lead the way for a bit then?"
"Please," Enguina stated, and the little pony trotted off towards their new path, Lómë following willingly behind. This would have to lead them to Legolas; they had to find him. If Faramir was so wounded, what more had they done to Legolas? Enguina could hardly think the question, and would never dare to ask. She was afraid of hearing the answer.
Galen and Hiron had laid the wounded Faramir and the elf they had found on mats within the infirmary. Even though the elf was an enemy, they knew he was alive and might possibly give them information they desperately needed about the attack…providing he survived the night. Both men were unconscious, but the Rangers were particularly worried about their Captain. Faramir was gravely wounded, and his wife sat at his side, watching as the Healer tried to make him comfortable. The more Éowyn watched, the more worried she became. Some of the wounds had not stopped bleeding; she could tell by how pale he was that he was very weak. He had been out in the sun all day with no water and no care, and he was beginning to appear sickly, his skin clammy and cold. She covered him with another blanket, taking note of the way his teeth were clenched even in sleep.
Éowyn took Faramir's hand and gently brought it to her lips. "Oh my dear…do not leave me," she whispered fiercely, though her words fell on deaf ears. "Faramir, please…fight. I cannot—" Her voice cut off and she swallowed back the tears that threatened to pour down her face. "Do not go."
"My Lady…" She heard Galen's voice behind her and she placed Faramir's hand in her lap, clutching it tightly. She was not about to let him go, not even if Galen begged her, but she did lift her head to look at him. His hand was extended to her. "My Lady, you need to rest; it is the middle of the night. Come, and I will find you a bed to rest in."
"I will not leave him," she said, shaking her head. "Do not ask me again."
There was a moment of silence as the two of them stared at each other. "This stone is not good to sit on, my Lady. You will catch a chill, and then both you and the Captain will be ill."
"Please…" she whispered, and this time the tears spilled over, "I need to stay with him. How can I think about myself when—"
Faramir groaned, and she immediately turned from Galen to look at him, gripping his hand even more tightly. "Faramir? Faramir?" she said urgently, and the Healer looked up from the bandage he had been applying to see the man's face.
Faramir opened his eyes and Éowyn wet a cloth from the nearby bowl and gently wiped the sweat, blood, and dirt from his brow and face. He watched her, and she felt the hand in her lap squeeze hers. "Éowyn," he whispered, and she laid a trembling hand against his face. "Éowyn, why are you crying?" He forced the words out, and she reached up to try and wipe them away.
"I am fine," she replied, trying to smile at him. He tried to smile back, but it was difficult as the Healer tied off another bandage.
He coughed once. "Water?"
Galen moved immediately so that Éowyn did not have to let him go, and reached out with a water skin, which she carefully let him drink from. Then, she wiped off his brow again and covered it with the damp, cool cloth, listening to him sigh. She could tell he would not be awake for long as his eyelids were fluttering. She stroked his eyebrows and his cheeks gently with her fingertips.
"Éowyn," he murmured, "you should not be on this stone floor. Think of the baby."
"I was too distracted thinking of you."
"I will not have it," he whispered, his eyes closing under her touch. "You must always come first." He forced his eyes open and found Galen. They narrowed. "My wife needs to rest; she needs a place to lie down."
Galen bowed to him immediately, smiling inwardly. "I have prepared a place for her, my Captain. She will rest, I am sure, as soon as she is certain you are safe."
"Take her there now," he instructed. "This stone is cold—"
"I will go when I see fit," Éowyn muttered, leaning down to kiss him roughly on the forehead, "and when you are ill, you come first. I will rest after I know you are out of danger."
"You are dead on your—"
"This is an argument you cannot win," she told him, stroking his face. "You need to rest, and when you wake I shall be at your side."
Then he did smile as he looked at Galen. "My wife."
"Indeed, my Lord, she certainly is your wife," the man laughed.
"Legolas?" he asked and Galen shook his head while Éowyn answered.
"Rangers are searching for the trail, along with Gimli and Enguina. It will not be long before they find him." She watched his eyes close. "Faramir?" she called softly, and then she realized he was not awake again. She was terribly worried about him as she stroked the hair from his forehead. Trying to smile, trying desperately to press the worry back, she leaned down at kissed the end of his nose and then sat back.
Galen sighed and began again. "Perhaps the bed—"
She turned her head and glared at him, and that was enough to silence him on the subject…at least for an hour or so.