My Sword Trembles
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 9: The Anduin
After a night in the barracks at the Causeway
Forts and another in Osgiliath, after much pampering by that garrison’s
cook, an old friend of Denethor’s, and after a feast set to help them
break their fast in fine fashion, Faramir and company rode off to a
secluded spot along the Anduin, carefully followed by a full company of
Gondor’s finest knights. Borondir knew Captain Durahil, hand picked by
Indis after his promotion to Minas Tirith, was quite put out with him
for not letting them camp anywhere near Faramir’s little campsite, but
he was concerned for Faramir and the fears the little one had still not
overcome.
However, the young Steward was not fooled. “He is just obeying
Amma’s orders. I do not mind. Really.” A slight shudder betrayed his
words. “I think I would be more frightened if they were not close.”
Borondir nodded. “If that is your wish, my Steward, then I will allow the captain and his men to camp within earshot.”
Faramir smiled. “If they catch any fish, they must share them.”
Laughing loudly, Borondir strode over to where the captain waited,
relayed Faramir’s orders, and walked back. “I think it is not too late
yet to fish. Are you willing?”
“Oh yes! I really am. I have not fished this place before.” Targon nodded his head in approval.
“Well, then, I might just have the advantage. I have fished here
all my life. I understand from Húrin that you are a fair fisherman.
Anything I can do to even the odds…”
They promptly set up their tents, one for the boys and one for
Borondir, grabbed their lines, and headed for a small sheltered spot
that Borondir pointed out. Sitting cross-legged on a blanket, Faramir
and Targon baited their hooks. The worms were squiggly and cold, fine
specimens that Captain Amlach of Osgiliath had given them before they
left there this morning.
An hour passed and then another. Though they had caught no fish, there
had been enough bites to keep both boys attentive and happy. Borondir,
on the other hand, was ready to move to another spot. They obliged him
and moved further up the river, carrying their lunch, their blankets,
and assorted fishing supplies. After another hour, and with no better
success than the first spot, Borondir suggested they break for
nuncheon. Faramir rose and washed the worm slime off his hands in the
Anduin, filled a pot at the same time, and brought it back to Targon
who used some of the water to clean his own hands, then he set it upon
the fire that Borondir had started.
Borondir passed around the cheese and fruit that the Osgiliath cook had
packed for them. “Since we have caught no fish, I suppose we must eat
the dried meat. I hope we do not have to eat this again tonight.”
“We should not have to. I have never been to the river without catching something!”
“Well, Faramir, I hope you are right. I usually have pulled a few fish in by now.”
Targon put the dried meat and some carrots, potatoes, parsnips and
onions, along with spices, into the pot. By the time they had finished
their fruit, the stew was ready. Faramir smiled. “One should never
travel without a cook.”
Both boys started laughing at that and promptly fell on the ground
beset by peels of laughter. Borondir could not help himself and smiled
warmly.
When mirth had eased, they ate their meal in silence, listening to the
river as it rushed past. Though it was late autumn, the river never
grew quiet, fed as it was from mountain snows, springs and rivers.
Borondir lay back, closed his eyes, and drifted off. Targon took the
pot to the river and cleaned it. Coming back to the camp, he put away
the utensils and his herbs and spices. Faramir walked up the river a
little ways, keeping an eye always on their camp. He knew from camping
trips with his father that one did not walk away from camp.
Suddenly stiffening, he shut his eyes. His heart began to pound. He had
heard a noise in the brush. ‘Orcs!’ He tried to run, but his legs
refused. His chin trembled as the noise grew louder. ‘Bad men. They are
coming.’ At last, he ran. He cried aloud and Borondir was instantly at
his side.
“What is it?” The warrior held Faramir close. “Are you all right?”
Faramir nodded his head, but tears coursed down his cheeks. “I heard a
noise. I think it is Orcs. We bet.. bet… better r… run,” he whispered.
“Faramir. There are soldiers all about us. They have scouted the
area well. I think it cannot be Orcs, but we will look.” He whistled
the signal. Within moments, six knights stood at his side. “Faramir has
heard a noise. I think you should investigate.”
They saluted and quickly ran in the direction Faramir pointed.
After a considerable length of time, in which Faramir finally calmed
down, the soldiers returned. Saluting to Faramir, one of them said, “My
Steward, we have found no sign of Orcs nor of any large beasts. We
scouted this area as soon as we arrived and there were no signs of
Orcs, yet I am grateful you are so attentive. They could have come in
by the river. We will post a few men further north, just in case.”
Borondir once again marveled at the kindness of the men of Gondor.
Taking the lad’s fears seriously, the soldier did not intimate disdain
or contempt for his Steward’s worries.
“Thank you for calling us. Do not hesitate if need arises again. We will return to our camp now.”
Borondir led Faramir back and sat him down near to the fire. He offered the boy a small drink of wine.
A white-faced Targon looked on. “Are there Orcs?”
“Nay. Not now, at least. The knights are going to put pickets north
and south of us. If they see or hear anything, they will signal.
Listen, in case you are away from me. It is the call of the avocet. You
have seen them flying over the river.” He pursed his lips and gave the
call. The boys watched in amaze. He repeated the call, showing them how
to hold their lips and their tongues.
Within moments, Faramir’s was very close to the sound, whilst Targon
labored at a sound that was quite far from the original. Faramir
laughed. “You do not need to signal whilst in the kitchens, Targon.
Better I learn for the both of us.”
Targon nodded but kept practicing.
“Why are not the soldiers coming to help? Did they not hear us or is not the sound right?”
Borondir smiled. “I spoke with the men who came to help us and they
told the captain we would be practicing for awhile. Do not worry,
Faramir. They have not left us from their sight yet. They will wait
until I give the all-clear signal, the call of the golden eagle. Are
you ready? Are you finished practicing?” At Faramir’s nod, Borondir
gave the call. They could hear rustling and gentle murmurs as the
soldiers returned to their posts. “I think it is time to return to the
river. The fish must be biting by now.”
“That sounded like a turkey, Borondir. Are they kin?”
Chuckling, Borondir said nay. “Though you are correct. They do
sound like kin. Would you like to practice that one? We can do so
without the soldiers being concerned.”
“Yes!” So as they sat, lines in the water, Faramir tried to imitate
the bird’s call. “I have seen them flying over Mindolluin. But never
close enough to hear them.”
“Someday, I will take you near an aerie and we can listen together.”
Faramir leaned against Borondir. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for everything.”
Finally, Targon caught a fish and immediately after, Faramir caught
one too. They laughed at the look on Borondir’s face. Complete amaze
that he had not caught one yet. Another two hours, another two fish
landed by both boys, and none for himself so that Borondir suggested
they return to their camp and prepare dinner.
After they finished eating, Faramir sat quietly.
“Is something amiss, Faramir?” Targon asked him.
“I was remembering. My father once told me how he went fishing with
friends and they marked off, on a log, the sizes of their fish, to see
who had caught the bigger one. I wish we had done that before we ate
them.”
Targon howled with laughter. “Are you trying to shame poor Borondir even further?”
Faramir’s cheeks blazed. “Oh no! I am sorry, Borondir. That is not
what I meant at all. I just thought it would be fun.” He bit his lip.
“To do something like my father did.”
Borondir blinked a few times. “We will do it tomorrow. Even if I do not catch any fish. Thank you for the idea.”
“It will be fun,” Targon continued. “We will show the log to Indis and Húrin. They would like to see, I am sure!”
“Of course they would. Now, I think it is time for sleep. We have
another two days here. I think we will make this our base camp and go
up and down the river from here, depending upon where the fish bite.”
Faramir stretched as his father used to do, went into their tent
and lay down. Targon pulled off his boots and set them by the tent
flap, then entered behind Faramir. Within moments, the two boys slept.
Durahil stepped out of the shadows. “Was it a good day?”
A/N – Narquelië – 10th month of the Gondorian year http://www.glyphweb.com/ARDA/
I tried to use birds that live near rivers, since I think that’s probably the calls that the Ithilien Rangers would use.
1) Yellowthroat - http://www.mbr-pwrc.usgs.gov/id/framlst/i6810id.html.
2) Different birds - http://birding.about.com/od/learnsongs/a/remembersongs.html.
3) Golden Eagle - http://www.birds.cornell.edu/AllAboutBirds/BirdGuide/Golden_Eagle_dtl.html#sound.
http://www.rspb.org.uk/wildlife/birdguide/name/a/avocet/index.asp
(the English avocets sound very different from the American avocets. So
– as a tribute to Tolkien, Borondir is teaching the boys the English
avocet’s call. J )
4) I’ve always spelt it eyrie but have discovered that spelling it
aerie is based on Medieval English and Old French – so I went with that
spelling. http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=eyrie
