R&R
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Chapter Thirty-nine
Asteard suspected nothing. It occurred to Serafina that she should feel at least slightly guilty for trying to escape the night before, but she felt numb instead. Sleep had evaded her for the remainder of the evening, she was unable to close her eyes without seeing Aragorn's clouded expression, or feeling his hands on her face and neck. Eventually she gave up on sleep and pulled out her books, ink and quill and began the mind numbing task of copying a poem about flowers onto her an empty page.
Desperate to keep her mind off Aragorn she tried to remember the words she had written in her childish scrawl under the bright light of the moon. Only fractions came back to her like; beauty unequalled and gentle caresses of sweet perfume like starlight. Her mind wandered dangerously to Aragorn's caresses and she swallowed thickly.
"How did you sleep?" a voice asked from behind her.
Serafina whipped around to see Asteard looking at her with a bored expression. She scowled at him and turned back around before answering him in an undertone, "As well as anyone who sleeps on stony ground with no blanket and their hands and feet in chains,"
"Once we arrive in Helm's Deep I'll talk to Éomer about getting your bonds removed. He is just and fair," he answered with a cheerful tone.
She turned her head again to look at him. The effort to remain upbeat was evident on his face. "Just and fair," she said not hiding the venom in her tone. She remembered the look on his face when Éomer assigned him to mind her. Smiling resentfully she said, "Is not the rest of your éored scouting the area, protecting us?"
"Yes," he said regretfully.
"I'm flattered that you think 'baby-sitting' me equal to the duty your éored carries out," she goaded. He didn't answer. Serafina took it as permission to continue, "Why did Éomer the Just pick you for this duty? Is it because you're younger than all of the others or because you're not as good as them?" She paused waiting for him to react but no noise came from behind her. A question of why she was doing this to him crossed her mind briefly, but she didn't care - she was angry, and Asteard was her closest target. "It could be both," she mused out-loud, "I wonder what will happen to you when Aragorn tells Éomer that I escaped last night and he had to chain me up himself because you were sleeping?"
Hands grabbed her from behind and spun her around on the spot. Asteard stared a her, his eyes livid. "You are…" he spluttered.
She smiled at him maliciously, disliking herself more and more each passing second, revelling in her self-hatred and self-pity, "What am I?"
Asteard took a step back from her and breathed deeply, visibly calming himself. When he answered his usually kind eyes were hard and cold, "You are a friendless murderer, " he whispered quietly, "Yes, I know you are Serafina, and I know your crimes. A day and a half I have walked with you and none of those who you claim friendship with have come to visit you. You take pride in nothing but your distain for others and their duty," he looked her up and down before nearly spitting, "I pity you".
His hands shot out roughly to turn her around. Suddenly a voice carried over the wind cried a warning, "Wargs!"
Serafina stumbled, wargs? She looked around her. The landscape was rugged; hilly with great rocks strewn around as if the heavens had rained boulders. "No!" she whispered eyes wide, it could not be that. In her mind she saw Legolas' distraught face. Her sour parting with Aragorn the night before flashed through her memory, it could not be coming true, not now. Sound of flighting and and yells reached them on the wind.
Without another thought she broke free of Asteard's hold to make for the battle. She didn't make it two steps however before her chains tripped her. Serafina flew face first into the dirt. "Get these off me!" she screeched squirming, trying to find her feet. To Asteard's credit he came to her side and offered her a hand to help her up.
"Give me the key!" she hissed at him brandishing her cuffed wrists at him.
"For what reason?" he asked her, "So you can join the battle? Somehow I think they would not be grateful for your assistance," he remarked calmly.
The sounds of battle from what Serafina thought must be just over the hill were getting louder and a sense of crazed urgency washed over her. She knew she only had a moment to get the better of him, instinctively she grabbed his offered hand with both of hers and yanked him down beside her. Within a moment she was on top of him and had her dagger to his throat.
"Don't think I won't do it," she warned him. He looked up at her with bewilderment in his eyes. She knew she'd been lucky - Asteard was strong enough to beat her at anything, but she'd had the element of surprise, and she was fast. Pressing the dagger against his neck she said through gritted teeth, "You told me yourself I am a murderer, would you like me to prove it or will you tell me where the key is?"
"A-around my neck," he stammered.
"Unlock my hands!" she ordered him. He fumbled with the chain, "Quick!" she cried desperately.
Within seconds her hands were free. Ripping the keys from him she unlocked the cuffs around her ankles and without a second glance ran as quickly as her legs could carry her towards the sounds of battle over the hill.
Carnage met her eyes. Everywhere men were hacking at orcs and wargs. She could see Gimli swinging his axe at one of the remaining enemies. Desperately she scanned for Aragorn, but she could not see him. She slowed to a walk, forcing one step after the other until she stopped. She could feel her hope fading, like a flame reaching the end of the candles wick. She saw the scene from the mirror once again. Legolas' expression appeared more real this time as he walked towards her.
"Serafina," he said gently, eyes filled with unfathomable sadness, "He is dead, Fia,"
Something small registered in her brain, she'd never noticed the quality of the elf's voice before in her visions. Somehow she'd always managed to miss that detail. Her attention shifted as she watched him produce the all-too familiar ring. Dread formed in her heart for the reality to come; surely Legolas would find her soon, his eye sad and pitying.
Something touched her hands. With a jolt she was brought back to the present.
"Serafina?" asked Legolas, looking down at her with concern.
"No," she whispered, horrified at reality.
"I am sorry," he said bracingly.
Blinking, Serafina stared at the elf standing in front of her. Had fate played some kind of cruel trick on her and merged her vision with reality? She searched Legolas' face and saw pain and concern mingled in his expression.
"Fia?" he asked, using her nickname again, "Here,"
She looked back down at his hands pressing something into hers. On her palm rested Aragorn's ring. Suddenly the full force of what was happening hit her in the chest. Her eyes snapped back up to Legolas', fear brimming in her expression.
"No," she repeated looking at him, desperately shaking her head. He could not be dead. Not yet. She had at least expected some of the other visions to pass before this terrible fate occurred. She had thought she would have at least some kind of warning so show where the path she was on was taking them. Aragorn's expression flashed before her eyes as he had caressed her face only the night before, that memory morphed into another as he reproached her for lying to him only minutes later. It had been too dark to make out his face. Regret began to well inside her, though for what precisely she could tell.
Looking down at her hand she felt a wave of repulsion for herself wash over her. She grabbed Legolas' hand and shoved the ring back to him. Legolas looked at her questioningly.
"He would have wanted you to have it, of that much I am certain," he whispered to her.
Despair, regret and repulsion mixed inside her heart and she could make nothing of the confusion. Anger boiled to the surface and she could not contain it, "But I don't want it!" she yelled at him.
Legolas looked slightly taken aback for a moment, but soon collected his countenance. His face became a mask of grim determination.
"Aragorn!" yelled a familiar voice from behind them.
Legolas and Serafina turned to see Gimli walking towards them.
"What are ye doing lassie?" he shouted as his stout legs moving quickly, "Where is the lad? I've half a mind to-" he stopped abruptly as he saw the expressions on their faces, "Legolas?" he asked, demanding an explanation.
Legolas left Serafina's side and stood in front of Gimli, placing his hand on the dwarf's shoulders. Serafina watched horrified as Gimli's expression changed from confusion to disbelief to despair. Her head felt numb. A dull ache formed in her chest, at first it was so small that she could barely feel it, but it grew until it felt like her heart was trying to swallow itself. She had failed him. She'd known his life was in danger but she had not been able to save him. Countless memories flitted through her head of all of the moments she might have had an opportunity to alter the future but for whatever reason she hadn't. Galadriel's knowing smile filled her vision and choked on her breath. Had she known? Had Galadriel planted the visions in the mirror for her to find knowing there was no way to save him? Was this her penance, to live with the unattainable vision of a future by Aragorn's side, knowing she had not done enough to save him?
Someone yelled Legolas' name bringing her mind back to the present. She heard his bow twang but did not look for what he was shooting. She looked up and heard men asking for Lord Aragorn. Legolas looked over at her, Gimli was on his knees yelling or crying, she did not know which. She wanted to join him but she felt hollow. She met Legolas' gaze again and before she knew it the words were tumbling out of her mouth.
"Where is he?" she demanded. In her mind she saw the image of Aragorn lying in the dirt, face bloodied and a rusty dagger protruding from his chest. Bile rose in her throat and she gagged, forcing it back down.
Legolas only shook his head in answer. She wondered if her face looked like his; bewildered and distraught. Something snapped inside her and she strode up to Legolas grabbing his shirt front, "Where is he?!" she asked again, her throat constricting.
"His body is not here," he said resting his hands on her arms, "he went over the cliff," he nodded behind her.
Almost tripping over herself she ran to the cliff edge. Standing on the edge she looked below; there was nothing she could make out but swirling water around jagged looking rocks. Turning back around she saw Legolas walking towards her, Gimli hadn't yet moved. It appeared that the men of Rohan were beginning to realise that Aragorn had been slain. She saw hopelessness begin to spread onto their features, she realised her face must have looked the same for when Legolas reached her he said, "Hope is not lost," he lifted a hand to her cheek and wiped away tears she had not know where there before tilting her chin up with his fingers.
"How can you say that?" she asked voice cracking.
"In life he gave us hope," he answered his fair voice was even, contrasting greatly with the emotion threatening to spill from Serafina's, "I will not abandon his gift now that he is no longer with us,"
Her heart beat loudly in response, Aragorn had taught her to hope, would she betray his efforts and despair when so much was left to do? She stared at Legolas for a minute, leaning on his strength and she felt a slight change in his eyes as he looked back at her. Perhaps he pitied her, pitied her for her foolishness of feelings. He had been right all along, she admitted to herself. She had feelings for Aragorn, perhaps she would understand them better with time. But Legolas had also been right in that Serafina did not deserve him.
"Legolas!" a voice yelled across to them. Serafina followed Legolas' eyes that rested on a strong old man who walked towards them purposefully, "Legolas, where is Aragorn?" he asked briskly.
Legolas closed his eyes for a moment before answering back in a clear voice that carried across the plain for all to hear, "Lord Aragorn is no longer with us, he was slain and his body went over the cliff edge,"
Serafina watched as the man's face changed from disbelieve to grim resolve. He barked out some instructions to his men and turned to walk away catching Serafina's eye. He stopped dead.
"Serrah?" he asked confusion on his face, "What are you doing here? You should be with the rest of the company, not on a battle ground," his voice was gentle but admonishing at the same time, his gaze was intense.
Serafina shifted uneasily. Over the hill she saw Asteard running towards them. More closely she saw Éomer stop mid stride as he saw her, a dead pigeon in his hands. Unsure of what the mad old man was talking about and not wanting to deal with Éomer she dropped her head and began towards Asteard wanting only to be alone with her grief.
"Serrah? Why would you walk away from me without answering?" he asked concernedly, closing the distance between them, "You look very ill - what's wrong?"
Serafina took a steadying breath, willing her voice not to crack as she spoke, "I don't know what you're talking about old man,"
"Miyra!" she heard Asteard yelling from across the plain.
Suddenly hands grabbed her upper arms and trust her face-first in the direction of the old man. She struggled in Legolas' grip but eventually she gave up. "Look!" cried Legolas, frustration brimming in his voice, "This is not Serrah! Are your eyes too blind to see?" he shook Serafina by the arms, literally brandishing her in front of the man.
"Legolas!" Éomer warned now running towards them.
"Aragorn is dead and I will not keep this farce up any longer," he said addressing Éomer.
Serafina's nerves stood on end, "A farce Legolas?!" she yelled turning her head to look at him, "Yet you are happy to let me believe that Boromir is dead and Gandalf is alive! Do you think it's funny now that Aragorn is dead?!"
"Boromir is dead! And Gandalf lives. You would have known this had you not let your stubbornness get in the way of your ears!" he countered quickly before continuing to address the old man fiercely, "Do you see her now? Take a good look at her. Her hair is lank, her body malnourished, her clothes torn and her skin bruised. Does she look like her now? And if you get past her condition you will see that her eyes are a brighter green and her nose has freckles. Does she look like your mistress now?"
The old man continued to stare at her. Serafina thought she saw something change in his eyes but this made his gaze even more bewildered. Legolas held her fast, she had never heard him loose his temper like this before. Éomer was now standing behind the old man looking at her, dead bird still in hand. Asteard had slowed to a walk and treaded towards them apprehensively.
As if suddenly remembering something Legolas grabbed her right arm and held it before the man's face, "Look!" he said, "This scar belongs to none other than Serafina of Gondor, the very girl you have held as a prisoner for the past few days. This is she. This is Serafina who you have been contemplating sending to Minas Tirith to answer for her crimes as a child. This is the girl you agreed should be called Miyra in case word escaped that the thief-child of Gondor was in Rohan. She is not Serrah,"
"She looks…" the old man began before trailing off.
"My King?!" came a voice like music from on top of the hill behind them, "Théoden?" the woman called again.
The old man before her turned around and Serafina heard a name escape his lips, "Serrah?"
Éomer's voice suddenly drowned out all noise, "Háma!" he called, "Take take woman in hand, bring her to me!"
A man sprang into action and others followed. Before a moment had passed they had the woman by the arms and were leading her down the hill towards them. Serafina wondered why everyone was making such a fuss. Surely none of this mattered, whatever it was, now that Aragorn was dead. With Legolas' hands still on her, she had no other option but to watch as things unfolded before her. She wondered if Gandalf could possibly be alive, she thought it unlikely, but she thought it even less likely that Legolas would lie to her now. And Boromir? Could Boromir be dead? After a moment of consideration she realised it didn't matter, Aragorn was dead, so what difference would Boromir's death make now? It took her a moment to realise that the men had unhanded the woman and she walked gracefully towards them of her own accord, the men following meekly in her wake.
"Théoden, I'm glad you're alright, I was worried" she said sincerely, "Lord Éomer did you want something?"
Théoden, the name registered with Serafina - the old man was the King! How was this the old man she had seen in Medusal only days ago? But this question fell from her mind in an instant as Serafina looked at the face of the woman. She had not often looked at herself in a mirror, but she recognised herself in the woman in front of her. Though her eyes were wrong - the shape was the same but the colour was darker, more like a forest compared to the bright green Serafina knew her eyes to be. Her nose was slightly smaller than what Serafina was used to seeing, and her hair shone in the sunshine, healthy waves of thick dark hair cascaded down over her shoulders. And there was something wrong with her lips - a smile Serafina didn't know to be her own. Memory flickered, suddenly Serafina remembered seeing a face like her own but different in Galadriel's mirror.
Before she could voice her surprise Éomer spoke.
"Uncle, this woman is an impostor," he said nearly spitting his words.
"You're telling me, boy?" he yelled in agreement, "Put her back in chains, as soon as we can spare a rider she is to be sent directly to Minas Tirith!"
"You misunderstand me uncle. Serafina is no impostor, she may not be the most agreeable woman I have met but, for now at least, she has done no wrong. I am talking about Lady Serrah,"
Théoden's head whipped around from glowering at Serafina to frowning at Éomer, "What are you talking about?"
"This woman is a traitor," he said indicating to Serrah, who stood there calmly watching Éomer, "While you were sick she abandoned your bed and became mistress to Grima, since you have been well she came back to you but she has been sending messages," he thrust the dead pigeon into the air, "to the enemy - this is how they know our every move!"
"You are on dangerous ground Éomer," warned the king.
Serafina looked between the two, Éomer was clearly enraged he avoided looking at Serrah, instead choosing to engage only his uncle in his glance. Théoden looked between Serrah and Éomer, shocked at the accusations. Serrah chose that moment to speak.
"Théoden, don't be so hard on your nephew," she said taking a step towards him. She lifted an arm and placed it on his shoulder. Serafina's eyes widened, it was clear that the king was infatuated with the woman, and she instinctively disliked her. "He is obviously distressed by the death of his friend,"
"Yes," Théoden agreed frowning.
"My King!" cried Éomer, "I have proof that she is sending word to our enemy,"
"Which enemy, Éomer?! Sauron? Saruman? … Orcs?" he yelled.
"Read it for yourself," Éomer answered, thrusting the dead pigeon into the King's hands.
"'My Lord Saruman," began Théoden, "the heir of Isildur is dead, their strength will fail tonight when the battle comes. We will be reunited soon, S.' S? That could be written by anyone," he paused and looked at Serafina, "It could have been written by her!"
"Serafina is illiterate," answered Éomer smoothly. Serafina considered correcting him but realised it would not help her case, he was not far from the truth in any case. Éomer regarded her closely for a moment before adding, "When we found her she was half starved and had narrowly escaped a terrible fate from the Uruk-Hai. I doubt she would change her allegiance to the man who created the beasts. Besides, she would not betray Aragorn's memory so,"
"How do you know all this?" asked the king.
"Yes, how?" Serafina asked taking them all by surprise.
"Aragorn and I discussed the resemblance between yourself and Serrah at length," Éomer answered her simply.
"For all I know Éomer, you could have written that letter," said Théoden.
"For what purpose would I write such a letter, tie it to a pigeon and set it loose for Legolas to shoot?" he asked, clearly frustrated.
"To frame Serrah," answered the king matter-of-factly.
"I have no interest in framing anyone!" he said raising his voice, "My interest lies where it always has - in the protection of our people. This woman threatens that and I will do what I must to protect us from her!" he stopped abruptly to calm himself.
Serafina looked back at the woman. She truly was beautiful, it was easy to see how Théoden would want to protect and vouch for her; there was something in the very way she stood that held one captive. On closer examination Serafina realised that Serrah was a fully mature woman. It wasn't easily discernible, like when looking at a rose in full bloom you don't necessarily think of it as mature, you think of it as beautiful. She wondered how it was that they looked so alike; she guessed that maybe she could have had a sister, but surely Serrah was too old to be a sister - she was more the age that a mother would be.
Serafina almost stopped breathing. It couldn't be.
"What other reasons do you have for suspecting me of treason?" Serrah asked jovially as if they were having a friendly conversation over a meal.
"Your relationship with Grima should be reason enough to banish you," Éomer answered quickly.
"Éomer you will stop accusing her of these preposterous lies!" shouted Théoden.
Silence settled on the group. Serafina watched Serrah in denial, hoping for a sign that she was wrong. Eventually Théoden turned to Serrah and muttered something reassuring to her under his breath. In that moment Serafina's world changed; Serrah smiled at Théoden with her soft, pouted mouth and in an all-too familiar mannerism lifted her chin, jutting it proudly into the air. In that moment she knew it to be true.
Her body started to shake. Steadying herself she swallowed thickly. "Tell me Serrah," Serafina began, addressing the older woman for the first time, "did you know Arnudor took me to be drowned in the river?"
The colour in Serrah's face disappeared. Her beauty lessened slightly as her eyes widened, she stared at Serafina.
Serafina's nose wrinkled in disgust, "Was it your idea?!" she asked, her voice raising in volume, "Tell me, how does one become pregnant in the cells of Gondor, because I've spent some time in them and I would like to know how one falls pregnant in jail!"
"Serafina?" asked a voice from behind her. Vaguely she realised that Legolas still held her by the arms, she ignored him.
Pulling her eyes away from the woman who was now white, and almost rendered ugly from the expression on her face, she looked at Théoden and spat bitterly, "Théoden King, you asked for proof. May I introduce you to my mother, a former prisoner of Gondor and presumably a liar - unless of course she told you about the child she birthed in prison and gave away to be sent down the Anduin."