My Sword Weeps
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 10: Lies and Deceit
They camped for the night, pulling
cloaks about
them to protect against the fierce winds of Rohan. The horses had been
loosed and a fire started. Both Elves smiled as their brother lit his
pipe.
“I do not know where he picked up this odious habit, Elrohir. Do you?”
“Seems to me ‘twas from some maiden in that town of Bree. I recall
him taking her to his…” A sharp hiss from Aragorn stopped the elder Elf
from continuing.
“Seems to me he is uncomfortable when that incident is brought up.” A
quick duck saved Elladan from a thrown stone.
“Not uncomfortable, brother. Mortified.” And the elder had to roll to
the right ere a lighted log from the fire passed too close to his left
side.
A grumble from Aragorn did nothing to sway his brothers from a full
frontal attack. Foolishly, he had not expected it, thinking they were
content with their jibes, but he had been wrong. He found himself with
his head pushed into the grass, one Elf sitting on his back, the other
on his legs. He fought furiously to free himself, but quickly gave up
the effort. A full éored of Rohirrim could not dislodge two
Elves bent
thus on subjugating their brother!
After a moment, peals of laughter rang through the folds of the
valley as both brothers let their erstwhile victim regain his freedom.
They moved back quickly as he grabbed a burning log from the fire and
held it in front of him. Swishing it back and forth, he kept them at
bay, wondering if they had more mischief planned for him. His thoughts
turned dark; they were attacking him. Orc perhaps; he struggled to see
in this ill-fated darkness.
Both Elves stepped back, hands held in front of them in gestures of
peace. Their smiles had vanished at the look of determination on
Aragorn’s face. “Be at peace, brother!” Elladan cried. “‘Twas a jest,
no more.”
Aragorn shook his head but kept the log whooshing from side to side.
“Brother!” Elrohir commanded.
Aragorn’s scowl grew deeper as he advanced upon them. The log came
dangerously close and Elrohir once again cried aloud. “Aragorn!”
Elladan tripped and fell and Aragorn pressed forward, his eyes
wild, his arm still shoving the weapon in front of him. Elrohir, beside
himself with fear, attacked, pushing his brother backwards and
stripping him of the bludgeon. He gave a swift look towards Elladan to
make sure he was safe, then sat on Aragorn’s chest. A quick gasp left
his lips as he looked into eyes that were not his brother’s. As Aragorn
struggled, Elrohir began to speak slowly and quietly, using his
father’s tongue and words of succor. Elladan sat, stunned and silent.
~*~
A servant had died in the early evening. Much to her chagrin, Indis
realized this was a blessing from the Valar. All in the Citadel knew of
the death for the servant was much loved. The likwain had arrived. The
body would be taken from the city into the fields of Pelennor and
buried near the man’s ancestral home. But the corpse would not be in
the cart, Faramir would as would Indis, Listöwel and
Théodred. The
others would ride ahead, ostensibly sent on an errand by Prince
Imrahil.
As they climbed into the cart, Indis heart fell. Fervently, she prayed
to the Valar to not make this cart a true likwain, carrying the dead
body of Faramir back to the White City. Listöwel saw her
hesitation and
held her hand as she settled into the transport. Siriondil placed
Faramir on Indis’ lap, passed his healing kit to Théodred,
kissed Indis
gently and left them. He would ride with Baranor and company until they
rendezvoused at the North Gate.
The likwain made its way down through the levels to the Great Gate.
There, an emissary of Prince Imrahil’s said the parting prayer in
Isildur’s Square and the cart moved onto the Pelennor. Indis breathed a
sigh of relief.
“You believe there are still those who wish Faramir dead?”
Listöwel asked in grief.
Indis looked at the little body in her arms and cried. “I do,” she
whispered hoarsely. “I do.”
“Will we ever be free?”
Théodred stirred in his sleep, the first he had had since the
decision
to leave Minas Tirith had been made, and Indis looked at him in pain.
“He has grown so, in such a short time. When we left Edoras, he had
seemed a child. Now, he bears the face of a man.” Her thoughts went to
Boromir. “My beloved nephew would look the same, with the sorrow that
we have endured of late.” Then, she held her finger over her mouth in
silent warning. “‘Tis not the time to be speaking of such things. We
know not what Faramir can hear. We go in hope, Listöwel. We must,
else
we die.”
“Will you leave…?” Listöwel began, thought better of her next
words
and grew silent. Leaning over, she took her friend’s hand and gave it a
quick squeeze. “Faramir will be safe with us. No untoward event will
take me again by surprise, Indis. I will die before I let him be
harmed.”
Indis’ eyes grew dark. “As will I, my friend, as will I.”
The cart rumbled along, carrying its four passengers into the night.
