My Sword Weeps
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 26: Division & Poetry
“The storm seems to have abated,”
Éomund
whispered. Indis nodded her head, pulled her cover back, stood and
stretched. He smiled. “You were comfortable?”
She smiled. “It is good to have you with us. I have not slept well
since we left Minas Tirith.”
“Gorlim is steadfast and strong. I am sure you were well-protected with
him.”
“We were… We are... I have come to value your friendship and council,”
she said simply.
“I thank you, Lady Indis.” He bowed his head for a moment. “I would
wish that our last journey together had ended better. Yet, I hold great
hope for this journey. I too have heard of a healer in the north.”
“There are such rumours in the Mark?”
“Aye. But the journey is long, Indis. We must turn north when we
leave Edoras. The direction we seek is east of the Misty Mountains.”
‘That far?” she gasped.
“That far. But we will change horses in Edoras and make good time.”
”We cannot go to Edoras. We must turn north at the Mering Stream.”
He paused before answering. “I understand your need for haste,
Indis, but we need more supplies and fresh horses if ever we are to
reach our goal.”
“Horses and supplies will be useless if Faramir is dead!” she
hissed. “There are horses there, Rohirric horses at the garrison, bred
to travel these snowy plains.”
Théodred stirred. Éomund took her arm and walked her
towards the
front of the cave. “Either way, my dear friend, Faramir will be dead.
You know it; I see it in your eyes. Would you have the whole company
die too?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Council. I said I missed your council.
I do not!” She turned viciously upon him. “Take your nephew and go to
Edoras. I will not! I will starve, freeze to death, before I take
Faramir to Edoras. Aye! He will die! But I will do everything in my
power to find this healer quickly. Even if I meet him with a corpse on
my hands!”
He took her arms and held her tightly. Teeth clenched, he
whispered, “Faramir will not be the only corpse with this folly you
plan. Do you call me coward? Do you say I fear death? I do not fear
death; I fear haste and rash judgment. Faramir need not die without
comfort. In Edoras, he will have comfort. He will die amongst friends.”
“I could have stayed in Minas Tirith and let him die in his own bed
amongst his kin!”
She pulled herself away and strode towards the front of the cave.
The snow had indeed stopped. She called to Gorlim, who had been
watering the horses. “We leave in an hour.” She turned back to
Éomund.
“Stay with us or leave, it matters not. I go north.”
~*~
“Strider,” the whispered name came across the blackness of the plains.
Aragorn lifted his head.
“There!” Elrohir said, pointing towards the west. “It is Erkenbrand.”
“Hail, Erkenbrand,” Aragorn called aloud. “You are most welcome. And
you bring another horse!”
“And supplies as I had promised. I saw the note you left folded on the
cot. It was kind of you. I used your knife and skewered it to the
table. My men will now be furious, but helpless, and your name will be
used as a curse.”
Aragorn smiled. “I could not let you bear the burden. Now they will
think we came back to the camp and stole you away, sick and all. Your
bravery will be sung in the tents of your men tonight.” He strode
forward and hugged the dismounted Rohir.
“I brought salted meat. We are too close to my camp to light a fire.”
“We are warmed well because of your hospitality. One night without a
fire is no hardship. The meat, however, is most appreciated.”
Elrohir whispered in Aragorn’s ear. The Ranger turned towards
Erkenbrand. “I have a confession to make, Captain. My name is Estel. My
brothers did not know, were unsure of… They gave you a false name. I am
sorry. But we must be off; we can eat as we ride. Elrohir hears hooves
headed this way.”
Erkenbrand looked with surprise at the Elf. “You can hear them? I
cannot. They must be miles away.”
Elrohir smiled. “The Valar have blessed us with a few gifts.”
“Come,” Aragorn mounted and held Erkenbrand’s horse. “Towards the
Mering Stream. We will not go that far south, but turn halfway there,
to the east.”
Elladan mounted, turned his horse and began to hum to himself. Aragorn
smiled for the thousandth time. “What song now, dear brother?”
“Ah – one you do not know, Estel. One I composed myself, with the
help of Bilbo Baggins, this past winter. It sings of hidden waterfalls
and fair maidens. I blushed at some of the words that the Hobbit
suggested.” He began laughing at the remembrance and started to choke.
“Sh! Please. Chortling will give away our position.” And Aragorn
laughed in spite of himself.
Erkenbrand’s brow furrowed. “Hobbit? What manner of song is a Hobbit? I
have not heard of such.”
Aragorn looked sternly at Elladan.
“A Hobbit is a cinquain type of poetry,*” Elladan fluidly lied. “It
is poetry taught to the youngest Elves. Very simple. Let me make one up
for you, Captain Erkenbrand. Now, let me see…. First a noun. That is
easy enough - Captain. Then the description. Another easy task – Wise
while wary. Oh! I like that. Next is an action. He protects and
forgives.”
Aragorn smiled at him. “He does indeed, Elladan. And we thank you,
Captain for forgiving our rash actions, our subterfuge.”
“Uh-hmmm,” Elladan cleared his throat. “I am not finished. Now, a
feeling. And fills us with feelings of shame. Does that satisfy you,
Estel? Last – a synonym of captain. Commander! That does it. Here you
are, Captain Erkenbrand. A Hobbit Cinquain for you.
Captain
Wise while wary
He protects and forgives
And fills us with feelings of shame
Commander.”
Elrohir clapped quietly. “Excellent Hobbit Cinquain. The best I have
ever heard.” He bowed his head, keeping his laughter as much to himself
as he could.
*I went to Shadow.Poetry.com and looked for something that sounded
Elvish – up popped a cinquain…now doesn’t that sound like fun!
According to ShadowPoetry “Cinquain is a short, usually unrhymed poem
consisting of twenty-two syllables distributed as 2, 4, 6, 8, 2, in
five lines. Another form, sometimes used by school teachers to teach
grammar, is as follows: Line 1: Noun Line 2: Description of Noun Line
3: Action Line 4: Feeling or Effect Line 5: Synonym of the initial
noun. The teachers' one does not have a # of syllables, but I stayed
close to the orignal one.
