The Ring will come to Gondor
by Varda
Chapter Sixty-four: An Evil Guide
'There is blood spilt on the floor, and the
room shows every sign of a fierce struggle, and Frodo and Sam are
gone...but you are telling me that all is well?'
Faramir stood staring at Legolas, trying with difficulty to control
his impatience, his face pale with anxiety. Behind him stood Aragorn
and Gandalf, but such was the voice and stance of the young Steward
that they dared not intervene. Behind Legolas Boromir and Gimli also
stood silent.
'You cannot be right in this!' cried Faramir, turning away from Legolas and pacing across the great hall of Minas Tirith.
'Every sign points to the slaying or abduction of Frodo and Sam!'
By now the chilly March evening had given way to a dark moonless night.
Even the torches flaring in the wall sconces did not light this great
chamber, and the shadows, growing and wavering among the vast tree-like
pillars, played tricks on the eyes, till it seemed the Great Hall of
Minas Tirith was haunted by goblins hiding in the dark recesses. At
last Legolas spoke.
'It does seem strange, Lord Steward, but it is the truth. Frodo and Sam
have departed your city, but unharmed, and of their own free will...and
not alone.'
Faramir stopped his pacing, and looked almost longingly at the Elf.
More than anything he wanted to believe that Frodo was unhurt.
'But why...?' he said in little more than a whisper.
Gandalf cleared his throat 'Faramir, listen to me....' he said. The
Steward turned towards his old teacher who stepped up to him and laid a
hand on his shoulder.
'I do believe that Legolas is right. I think Frodo has gone on alone...'
'But why?' asked Faramir again. 'Why leave his friends, and go into danger, alone?'
Gandalf replied quickly;
'Faramir, not all the armies that ever fought for Gondor and Arnor
could force a way into Mordor. Frodo knows that. But two quiet little
pairs of feet, furtively seeking a way in, that very well might
succeed....'
Faramir heaved a sigh. Gandalf was right. And friends, no matter
how brave, could be seduced by the very thing they had sworn to help
destroy, The Ring. Faramir dared not look at his brother Boromir,
standing by pale and silent. He looked at Legolas and said softly;
'I hope you are right, Lord Elf. I really do....'
'But what about this creature that attacked Frodo and Sam?' asked Gimli
'What about it? Who or what was it, and where is it now?'
'I think I can answer that...' said Aragorn, who had stood with his arms folded and his head down till then.
'I suspect it is Gollum....'
'Gollum!' burst out several of the company.
'Who on earth is Gollum?' asked Faramir
'How could he have got here from Mirkwood?' asked Legolas.
'Well, we have to follow them now!' said Gimli 'we can't let them go on with that evil creature in their company....'
Gandalf held up a hand for silence.
'Peace, friends!' he said. Turning to Faramir he explained;
'Gollum, my lord Steward, is a wretch that is all that is left of a hobbit who bore the Ring before Frodo came by it...'
Faramir raised his brows. Gandalf nodded grimly.
'Yes, for many ages he had the Ring for his own, hidden and unknown. It
warped and destroyed him, then left him, to be found by Sauron and
tortured. Somehow, he has found his Precious again...' Gandalf turned
to the others and said;
'I do believe Aragorn is right, and that Gollum is with Frodo.
Often on our journey from Rivendell I gave thought to what might have
become of him when he escaped from the Elves of Mirkwood. And one thing
was certain; he would seek the Ring. He might even have been released
from Mordor to do that very thing, for Sauron. Do the enemy's work for
him. But events overtook us, and I was not able to think more about it.
Now it is clear that Gollum has followed us, at least from the time we
reached the river, and that he entered the city, by some means....'
Several of the company looked at Faramir. The Steward nodded.
'There are ways into the city, for those who are small and lithe
and crafty. they are foul and dark, but still a route into Minas
Tirith. If this Gollum does not mind caves and tunnels, and can see in
the dark, he could get in....'
'He is a cave dweller, indeed' said Gandalf. 'and now, he is Frodo and Sam's guide...'
'Guide!' exclaimed Gimli. 'But that is a disaster!'
'Well...' said Gandalf, stroking his beard. 'It is not good news.
But from what Legolas has told us, he is now subdued by Frodo, who has
power over Gollum by what he bears. The wretch might even show some
trustworthiness in the end...'
'Or he might not' said Faramir, his face dark. 'I don't like the sound of this Gollum; he is an evil guide!'
The company fell silent; they knew that the Steward could order all
three captured and brought back. It was not too late. But Faramir
instead walked up to Legolas and said in a quiet voice.
'I know your eyes see what mortal men do not, Elf. I just hope you see
what is true. I will not order Frodo and Sam or this Gollum to be
pursued or brought back. May they pass safely out of my city, and on to
their destination, however terrible...'
Eowyn waited at the window till darkness fell and the lights began
to twinkle below in the city. The bells for the evening watch ceased
ringing and the streets fell silent.
‘Where is Boromir? She thought anxiously. ‘And why has no-one come to tell me what how Sam is? Where are they keeping him?’
Eowyn would have paced the high narrow room impatiently but for her
wounded leg. As it was she sat down on the great bed, covered with a
richly embroidered counterpane and piled with warm furs, and knitted
her brows in thought.
A sense, honed in many ambushes and sorties out on the Mark, warned her
something was amiss. She had seen no-one but serving women since
Faramir left her. By now he must have summoned his brother to him and
told him of his mission to go to Rohan. Eowyn knew Boromir would have
immediately come to see her and talk of his errand. Unless someone
forbad it. But who could forbid a man like Boromir?
She began to have doubts about Faramir.
‘He is courteous, to be sure…’ she thought ’and a fair speaker. But
under all that, of what manner of man is he? I know what Boromir is -
he saved my life and I have seen him fight, I know his courage and his
truth. But this Faramir? He shows himself in a good light when he
speaks, but is he to be trusted?‘
Eowyn sat back on the bed.
‘Yet he is comely, to be sure. Like Boromir, yet unlike. Fairer and more slender…..‘
She sat up straight.
‘Listen to yourself! You sound like a silly green girl. There is
something going on, and you are not being allowed to know what it is.
Perhaps they think there is no need to tell a mere woman, even a royal
lady of Rohan….‘
Painfully she got to her feet.
‘If they won’t tell me what is happening….I must find out for myself…‘
For a while she looked unsuccessfully for her clothes. Dirty and
torn they had been taken away for washing, and Eowyn, balancing
painfully on one leg, searched the closets and chests in vain till at
last she found them in a great oaken wardrobe opened with a tiny silver
key.
The clothes were neatly folded and already mended. They were dry and
slightly warm, smelling of lavender and honeysuckle. Eowyn took them
and buried her face in the material; it was familiar and comforting,
and reminded her of home. On the slopes of the high limestone outcrops
of the Mark honeysuckle grew in profusion in summer, scenting the air
with its rich sweetness. Now, the smell gave her a sudden, almost
painful desire for her home. Fine and great as Minas Tirith was, she
felt lost and alone in this city of cold stone. She longed more than
anything for the wide grassy plains of the Mark, and a swift horse to
speed across it on….
She sighed and placed the folded clothes on the bed.
‘Be strong, now, daughter of Eomund…’ she said to herself. ‘Do not
yield to heartsickness for your land, when all who live there depend on
your courage and wits! You are a shield-maiden, remember, and daughter
of a royal house…’
For Eowyn now believed more than ever that it fell to her alone to
save Rohan. Her brother Eomer was banished and her uncle the king
helpless in the power of that weasel Wormtongue.
‘I’ve wasted too much time in this room!‘ she thought suddenly. ‘I must find Boromir, and return home…!’
It seemed to take an age to get dressed. She was much weaker than
she thought, and had to stop several times when dizziness came over
her. She was in pain and felt that her wound had opened. But she was a
warrior, and scorned to think a little cut would prevent her doing her
duty. At last she was dressed, and slumped weakly on the bed, waiting
for the room to stop spinning round….
A bell woke her and she sat up in alarm; it was dark, and outside
the city was utterly quiet. Eowyn, who often could not sleep, knew it
was past midnight.
‘Confound it!’ she thought, sitting up quickly. She grimaced as her
wound smarted but slid from the bed, groped in the light of the brazier
for her sword belt and buckled it on. .
‘I must find Boromir…..‘
Eowyn had been unconscious when she was brought to the room, so she did
not know what way to go when she emerged into the long, dim passageway.
Torches guttered in great black iron stanchions set into the walls, but
everything was quiet. Eowyn softly closed the door after her and began
to limp down the hallway, holding onto the wall, when a voice called
out;
‘Halt, there! Who are you, and where are you going?‘
Eowyn started and turned round, almost stumbling as she forgot her
wounded leg and inadvertently put her weight on it. The dark hall swam
about her, and a face loomed up before her. It was a guard in the
livery of the Citadel, black and silver, daunting even to a lady of the
royal house of Rohan. But the man’s face was pale and wide-eyed, almost
as surprised as she was, and Eowyn realised he was little more than a
lad.
‘Did you address me, soldier?‘ she said with all the haughtiness she
could muster when she wished to command, and needed obedience. The
young guard stammered in reply;
‘I am sorry, my lady. I have orders to let none enter or leave….’
‘That is because you are guarding me.’ retorted Eowyn sharply. ‘Do you know who I am?’
The boy went red and replied;
‘Yes, my lady. You are the Princess Eowyn of Rohan, Lady of the Mark…‘
Eowyn was silent, placated for a moment by the fact that the
youngster knew her titles. But then she remembered her errand,and said;
‘I no longer need your protection. Let me pass….’
But the lad stood his ground.
‘I may not let you go, my lady. My orders are…’
‘Your orders are to guard me, and you are obeying them….‘
Eowyn looked into the boy’s eyes and saw they were grey, like the
grey eyes of Boromir and Faramir. These men of Numenor were all alike,
she thought in exasperation. Brave as wild bulls, and just as
stubborn….she could see the determination even in this young soldier.
But there was something amiss with this guard; he was too young. The
black tunic he wore under his mail shirt was too long in the arms, and
the sleeves were turned up several times. The tunic reached down too
far below the knee. All his gear was made for one of much greater
stature. The lad’s sword hilt was polished and worn, and Eowyn guessed
it was the boy’s own, and well used. But the heavy ceremonial pike he
bore was held awkwardly, and the boy caught it with his foot when he
moved to block Eowyn’s path. She guessed that all the Citadel guards
had been called up to fight at the front, or to man the walls, leaving
only the cadets, or even a page like this, to guard the halls and
doorways of the White Tower….
Eowyn forced herself to smile and asked;
‘What is your name, guard?‘
The soldier looked uncertain, as if he was not sure he was allowed
to answer questions. Then the courtesy of the Numenoreans asserted
itself and he said;
‘Ciall, my lady.’
Eowyn raised her eyebrows and studied the young man. He had a
broad, fair face and long tawny hair that fell over his eyes and was
constantly pushed back. His name meant clever. Better not assume he is
unable to think for himself, then, she thought. She said;
‘I must speak with Lord Faramir, at once, on a matter of
importance to this city and my own country. Now you cannot leave me,
and I cannot wait till you ask permission from your superiors. So, why
do you not escort me to the Steward’s presence? That way I will see
Faramir, and you will do your duty….‘
Ciall looked doubtfully at her, thinking this over. Eowyn had
braced herself for further argument when unexpectedly Ciall took his
hand from his sword hilt and said;
‘You are right, my lady. We are surrounded by the enemy and if
this is a matter for the defence of Gondor there is no time to lose. I
will bring you to Lord Faramir…..‘ he glanced down at Eowyn’s leg and
colouring slightly he said;
‘Your wounds are not healed, you can’t walk..‘ Eowyn was about to
brush this aside and tell him it did not matter when he suddenly
offered her his arm and said shyly;
‘Lean on me, my lady, and I will bring you safely to the Steward…!‘
