Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

As the Gentle Rain  by Lindelea

Chapter 12. Awakenings

Pimpernel awakened to an unfamiliar heartbeat. She wakened slowly, for she was warm, wonderfully warm and snug after the ache of cold. In dark dreams had she wandered, while a fell voice whispered dreadful promises, and remembering, she whimpered. The arms of her beloved tightened around her, comforting her... but it was not her beloved. His heart was... it was not his heart, and it was not his scent, and...

 ‘I think she’s coming around, Sire,’ a voice rumbled against her ear, and she stiffened, tried to push herself away, but was held fast, trapped!

All in the room froze as a heart-rending scream issued from the blankets wrapping the soldier and the hobbit he held, and then both kings leapt to pull the blankets away.

Merry sat up in Sam’s hold, fumbling under the blankets, muttering, ‘Sword! Where’s my sword!’

 ‘Steady, Merry, all’s well,’ Sam said, taking a firmer grip on his burden as Merry stiffened and began to retch violently.

Elessar tore away the blankets and moved to take Pimpernel from the guardsman’s lap, a Man who had faced fire and battle, but now sat helpless in the face of feminine terror, his jaw working as he sought for a comforting word, his arms hovering but not quite touching the hobbit once the enfolding blankets were gone. The King took the hobbit from him and he sighed in relief, though his face still reflected the distress he felt for the terrified little one.

 ‘Nell,’ Elessar soothed, but she stiffened and struck out wildly, hitting and kicking with all her strength, screaming and sobbing incoherently.

 ‘Help her,’ Merry said, pushing Sam away with as much strength as he could muster. The retching had stopped but now spasms racked his body. As Sam rose to obey, Merry wrapped his arms about himself and twisted, gasping for air, his face ashen. ‘Go!’ he gritted when Sam hesitated.

Elessar had set Nell hastily upon the floor, where she crouched, head covered by her arms. She screamed no longer but continued to sob, little gulps of abject fear.

 ‘Nell,’ Sam said softly, moving to crouch beside her. He met Strider’s eyes, and the King nodded. ‘Nell, you’re safe now. We’ve come to help.’

She stiffened as he put a tentative hand on hers, but it was a hobbit hand, of proper size, and soothing for that reason. Slowly he enveloped her in a proper hobbit hug, and slowly he felt her relax against him, until he was able to hold her as he might his Rosie, and stroke her hair.

Elessar gave another nod and rose to cross to Merry. ‘What happened?’ he asked. He didn’t ask how Merry was feeling. He had a good idea, from his own long-ago experience with the foul stuff in the wine.

 ‘Monster,’ Merry said with a grimace. ‘Took us in out of the snow, drugged us, and invited us to sup with him.’ He took several rapid shallow breaths, fighting the nausea. ‘We were to be the main course, and I suspect Nell was intended as the sweet.’

 ‘How did you escape roasting?’ Elessar asked.

 ‘Was it the Pilgrim?’ Elfwine said suddenly, looking from the fence pole to the hearth and then back to Merry.

 ‘Did the Pilgrim save you from him?’ Eomer said, bending low to address Merry eye-to-eye, but the young prince beside him shook his head.

 ‘No, he’s the monster. I see it now,’ Elfwine said. ‘He was always pressing me to dine with him, and I met him on the day Elfalas disappeared...’

 ‘You think,’ Eomer began.

 ‘The day we delivered the supplies a fence pole was missing,’ Elfwine said, ‘the top rail of the middle span on the north side. We were late bringing his supplies because of the search for Elfalas.’

 ‘Have the men look about for bones,’ Elessar said grimly to Bergil, hovering nearby. ‘Bones, skulls, any remains of man or hobbit.’ Bergil saluted and strode from the room. Outside they heard him snapping orders.

Elessar turned back to Merry to ask, ‘What of Pippin?’

 ‘Pippin...’ Merry said faintly, and then his eyes closed and he slumped, senseless once more.

Ferdibrand was unresponsive, and Nell still sobbed, beyond all reason, in Sam’s embrace. If a Man approached too near she would stiffen and Sam would quickly wave him away.

 ‘The man was mad,’ Elfwine said with a look to his father. ‘I thought him harmless, but... Do you suppose he left before the storm was spent, bearing away the other hobbit? That would explain why we saw no tracks in the fresh snow.’

Eomer nodded, jaw clenched, face grim. He rose abruptly and strode from the little house, shouting for his Riders. When they gathered, he quickly scanned their faces, saying, ‘There is a monster loose in the Mark, eater of man-flesh and tormenter of souls. Take horse and ride in all directions! Spread the news! Search for an old man bearing one of the Holbytlan! There is no time to lose!’

There was a shout from one of the guardsmen who’d been digging through the midden pile. He held a skull aloft, larger than a hobbit skull, obviously the skull of a Man.

 ‘Elfalas,’ a Rider of Elfwine’s eored whispered.
 
 ‘Go!’ King Eomer snapped to his men, and they whirled and ran to their horses, scattering like leaves in a stiff breeze.

The snow was already beginning to melt as the Sun arose beyond Edoras. It promised to be a glorious day.

The King’s esquire, a young knight, came out of the house. ‘We found nothing inside,’ he said to his lord. ‘Do you wish me to take a message to the City?’

They had left the Golden Hall an hour before the dawning, hoping to bear good news back with them in time for breakfast. They would return bearing hobbits, indeed, but three instead of four, and wounded in body and spirit.

 ‘Yes,’ Eomer said heavily. ‘Take back the news that three have been found alive: Master Holdwine, Chancellor Ferdibrand, and his wife.’ He stopped the young Rider, grasping his arm urgently. ‘Do not tell them what we fear has happened to the fourth, not until we have more evidence.’

 ‘Yes, Sire,’ the esquire said, saluting and turning smartly to walk to the fence where he’d tied his horse. Odd. There were a few remaining who bore the trappings of the Mark: the king’s horse, of course, and that of Prince Elfwine, but most of the horses belonged to the guardsmen of Gondor. His eye scanned down the line, not finding his own mount. His bewilderment mounted as he went down the line again. His horse had not simply sprouted wings and flown away!

He re-entered the little house to find his king in discussion with King Elessar.

 ‘Of course, there’s a lot of country to cover, but the snow ought to slow him. My knights will rouse the entire countryside and all the farms and villages...’ Eomer looked up. ‘What is it, Theomund?’ he asked.

The esquire hesitated, then blurted, ‘I cannot find my horse.’

 ‘You cannot find...’ Eomer said slowly.

 ‘I left him tied to the fence with the others, and now...’ Theomund replied helplessly, spreading his hands in a futile gesture.

It did not take long to establish that a knight of the Mark had ridden away soon after their arrival, and not long after that they determined that he had not arrived, in the first place, with the rescuers.

 ‘He carried a message from the king,’ the guardsman who’d witnessed the departure said.

 ‘He said he carried a message? You spoke with him?’ Eomer demanded, his esquire hovering at his elbow.

 ‘You saw him?’ Elessar said in turn. His guardsman turned to him.

 ‘No, Sire,’ he said earnestly. ‘I saw him not. He wore his helm and was already riding away when I hailed him. He answered me with a wave and I let him go.’ His guts were churning within him. He had failed his King. Because of him, the monster had escaped in the guise of a Rider of Rohan.

 ‘Then the news sent out into the land is wrong,’ Elessar snapped. ‘We are not seeking an old man bearing a Halfling...’ He clenched his jaw as the implication came home to him, and then raised his head to address the hovering guardsmen. ‘We are still looking for the remains of the Ernil i Pheriannath,’ he said grimly.

 ‘Yes, Sire,’ a grizzled sergeant replied, and turned away, shouting to his men. ‘You heard the King!’ Once more they spread out in search, some to dig through the midden, others to look for signs of disturbed ground under the rapidly melting snow.

Turning back to Eomer, Elessar said, ‘We need to take the others back to Edoras, and as quickly as possible. They will heal more readily, surrounded by their own.’ They rapidly worked out the details. Half of Elessar’s guardsmen would continue to search here; the other half would escort the surviving hobbits to Edoras with the Kings, who would bear Merry and Ferdibrand in their arms to the City. Sam, who’d ridden with Elessar, would ride Cloudracer with Nell beside him on Ferdibrand’s pony so that she need not suffer the agonies of being carried by the Men she now found so terrifying, and no wonder: undoubtedly she'd watched that monster consume her brother. 

***

He wakened slowly, unsure of his surroundings. Unsure of anything, as a matter of fact. A stranger’s face hung over him, braids of gold coiled around her head, her fair face smiling though her blue eyes were dark with concern.

 ‘You are with us,’ she said softly, her tone one of relief. ‘How do you feel?’

He opened his mouth to answer but no sound resulted. He could not remember for the life of him how to form the words.

 ‘Grandfather,’ the girl called softly. ‘He wakens.’

Soon another face bent over him, etched with years and marked with the scar of an old battle. ‘Master Holbytla,’ the old man said. ‘You’ve had us quite worried. You struck your head when you fell from your pony in our yard.’

He had no memory. Pony? What pony? Where was he? For that matter, how did he come to be here? And where had he come from, in the first place? A frightening blank reared in his mind where thought and memory ought to be. He tried to raise his hand to his aching head, but it would not answer him. Was he bound? Was he a prisoner?

Seeing fear cross the small one’s face, the old man said reassuringly, ‘All is well. I will bear you to Edoras, to the Hall of Healing there, and they will undoubtedly mend the trouble.’

 ‘I will bundle him well, Grandfather,’ the girl said.

As he lay helpless, he saw the old man smile, nod, felt the old man pat his shoulder before arising. He could not turn his head to follow the old one’s movements, but thought he heard the sounds of a cloak swirling in the air and settling. When the old man came back into his line of vision he smiled slightly, glad to know he’d been correct. The old man turned away as the girl tugged at his arm, and he heard her whisper. He doesn’t move or speak. Is he going to die?

Hush, child, he will hear you, came the answer, and then in an everyday voice, ‘Bundle him well, little flower. The snow is melting, but the wind of our passing will be swift.’

 ‘Yes, Grandfather,’ came the obedient answer. She bent over him once more, tucking blankets around him. His eyes were caught by a few strands of gold that had escaped the braids. They reminded him... reminded him... He closed his eyes and slept again.

***
A/N: Medical details drawn from research notes provided by Lyllyn at HASA





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List