Chapter 30

Arguments, Letters, and Mushrooms

June 1

Southwestern Border between Gondor and Rohan

Shrakak was too busy relishing the screams of his victim and liberally using his barbed lash on the Noldo elf to realize what hit him.

He felt the blade begin to pass through his neck, and then felt no more.

Eression sprang over the fallen orc, moving with fierce intent to the orcs holding Elrohir down. He dispatched all three before any of the others could react, the next thing his blade met was a scimitar, but after a brief fight he had taken down four more.

Two more came at him and Eression ducked under their blades, allowing one to decapitate the other and slashing down the first from his position on the ground. Rising again Eression was already moving to cut down an orc attempting to drive his blade into Elrohir's back.

Eression's blade was now black with orc blood and between the moments it had taken him to dispatch the orcs and the blazing look of fury in his eyes, he easily backed down the last few orcs who fled into the trees, leaving the glade silent in their wake.

Eression stumbled to the fallen elf's side, groping for a pulse. The human had not drunk water in a long time, he was worn and weary and that last battle with the orcs had taken it out of him, he had run up that hill and fought those orcs on pure adrenaline, but that was beginning to wear off now and as he turned Elrohir carefully onto his side, he hardly felt the strength necessary to carry the elf if it came to that.

"Come my lord, you must wake…we must find your brother…my lord?"

There was a long pause before Elrohir's eyes opened at last, his mind still lost in his own world, the sight of Eression swam in and out of his vision and he flinched back.

"No! NO! Please no! Leave us be just leave us! Elladan!" Eression flinched at Elrohir's words, he could not understand the elf's sudden insurmountable fear of him but it made horrible memories of a past he could never seem to forget come to mind.

"No, my lord please. I will not hurt you, you have my word, you are safe." Eression took the elf carefully by the shoulders leaning over him to see his back, the lacerations there made Eression's heart clench.

"No! Leave me! Let me go! Leave us please!" Elrohir was screaming again trying desperately to push Eression away from him.

Eression tried to move back at Elrohir's word, but was suddenly propelled back by a sharp blow to the face. Eression brought his blade up, ready for a fight and realized that it was Elladan crouching over his brother, his eyes blazing with such a deep hatred Eression could hardly stare into it without fear.

"You leave my brother alone!" Elladan shouted, clutching Elrohir's body to him with one hand, he pointed a bloody finger at Eression. "NEVER touch him again!"

Eression felt a cold lump settle in his stomach and though he was loathed to speak he felt he must explain his actions.

"Please my lord, I did not intend your brother any harm. You don't understand, he was set upon by orcs and— "

"I understand!" Elladan's voice had turned hard and steely. "I understand that you bring pain and fear to my brother's heart, and who knows what other craft you devise. I have seen betrayal, Captain, and I know its kind. Seemingly caring and loyal when beneath it lies a dark soul unchanged! You are one of a deceptive heart which is true to nothing but what will bring you gain in the end. The king can trust you if he wills, other men may follow blindly, but not I. I remember those dark days and all you did to prevent them! I remember your words clear as though they happened yesterday, you said that the orcs could do what they willed with us…" Suddenly Elladan's voice broke off, choked with a sudden emotion he had not expected, his voice dropping. "Deadly beasts without pity or remorse, with only reason to cause pain and you said they may do what they willed with us…and they willed to nearly break my brother's spirit and kill me in the end." Elladan's face became firm once more as he tried to contain the emotions which had sprung up so suddenly upon coming through the trees. The distrust which he had hidden for Aragorn’s sake could not withstand the shock of seeing Eression holding Elrohir down as his brother cried and begged to be left alone. "So I tell you again, captain, to leave us be, and stay away from my brother."

Elladan stopped at last. Leaning over his brother, he gently turned him so that he could inspect the other's wounds. Elrohir had lost consciousness and had thus missed all the words that had passed between his brother and the human, but Eression had heard them — every word. And they imprinted a pain so deep on his heart that it took his breath away.

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The air was only beginning to grow warm and the grass was very damp beneath his feet. Eression breathed in the cold air of the morning and felt instantly refreshed. The night had been hard, cursed with his own cold memories as he watched Elladan and Elrohir from a distance bandaging each other and speaking in soft reassuring tones.

Eression had not felt so like a villain in many years, but sitting there, far from the fire, alone in the shadows, so utterly empty in spite of his quenched thirst… He was Furnmorth's captain once more, and no redemption could ever reach him.

Neither twin had woken when he left that morning and for that Eression was grateful. He knew Elladan had intended to stay awake all night, but the wound he had sustained made his body's need for rest win out over his desire to keep a watch over the camp and an eye on Eression. Eression himself had stayed awake all night keeping watch for more orcs.

This was the reason Eression was out on the plains. His mind was fully occupied with the orcs they had encountered, for he had a terrible suspicion they had only met a scouting troop. Elrohir had mentioned to Elladan, loud enough that Eression managed to overhear, that the orcs had said they were taking him to another orc and had also made mention of horse lords. It left Eression with little doubt of why the orcs were stationed here. They meant trouble for Rohan, and someone would need to be sent to inform King Eomer of the impending attack as soon as possible.

So far, however, Eression had not seen anyone to send such a message, though he had walked a fair distance from the forest. He was starting back to the pass, considering the idea of letting the twins travel to Minas Tirith alone while he delivered the message (an idea he did not particularly favor as it was not what the King had wished), when he heard the sound of horses hooves just behind him.

He turned quickly and saw a group of Rohirrim on horses headed his way at a fast pace. They had clearly spotted him some time ago and he had been too distracted to notice.

Eression made up his mind not to move from that spot counting on the fact that he was alone and seemingly lost to preserve him from automatic attack.

When the Rohirrim reached him, they seemed wary, but not unduly concerned about his presence.

The one just in front of him, a younger man with dark blonde hair and a plumed helmet, spoke suddenly, directing his men to move back a pace.

"Who are you, stranger, who wanders in the dawn hours?"

Eression did not answer right away, he was trying to decide the best way to approach the subject, and for all that he was trying to decide whether or not to even trust this man before him.

"I am a Dúnadan, traveling together with two companions. We were traveling through the pass and were beset by orcs. All of us were injured in the fight and one of their kind spoke of attacks on the horse lords; we believe there may be a great many more and I have been searching for someone who might inform the king of these tidings."

Eression's answer was straight forward enough and seemed to throw the man entirely. He had likely not expected such an answer. "This is a time for strangers passing through our land, for only a month ago we saw strangers pass by, an elf and a man as yourself. Not a man gives warning of their passing in these days."

Eression easily caught the irritation in the man's comment. "May I ask to what manner of Rohirrim I am speaking?"

"Captain Theodran, leader of this Eorred. You say that there are orcs in the pass; that is something that must be seen to at once, but only if your words are true."

"My lord," Eression spoke carefully, his mind still on the comment Theodran had made about an elf and a man passing through, “if my words are not truth than I am a liar and a fool who would stand out in the dawn hours awaiting the wrath and rightly given suspicions of King Eomer's men, but if I speak in truth than you have not a moment to waste in suspicion, for what myself and my companions have seen gives rise to a fear that someone wishes Rohan severe harm, and you would do best to ride to your king's halls with all speed."

Theodran looked Eression in the eye for a long moment before he nodded. "Yes, you speak truth in that at least, ranger, and we will indeed speak of this to King Eomer. But first I see that you have something else you would seek from me."

Eression had to credit this Rohirrim with perception for he had indeed a question he very dearly wished to ask.

"This elf and man you speak of — were they alone in their travels?"

"They were not," Theodran responded. "There was another man with them, with the white tree of Gondor under his cloak. The elf was tall with golden hair and the man was dark haired and introduced himself as a Dúnadan such as yourself. They were traveling to Lorien, which, as the elf said, once housed his father's kin."

Eression frowned. It sounded to him as though… but no he must be imagining it. Surely King Elessar and Prince Legolas would not be out with only one Gondorian guard! There was no way in Arda that Duurben would allow such a thing… Unless he didn't know.

"I thank you, Captain Theodran, for your assistance, and if you are bound for your king's halls, I will not detain you a moment longer."

"You have my word we will relate all you have told us." Theodran gave a short nod before turning his Eorred back the way they had come.

Eression watched until they began to fade into the dawning light. He hoped that this would not cost King Eomer too dearly and that word would reach him in time. Then there were these strange tidings of an elf and a man. No, surely it was too impossible to consider.

With a final glance at the Theodran's men before they disappeared, Eression turned back towards the pass. He was certain that the twins would want to start again on their journey and despite how exhausted he felt, Eression was now very eager to return to Minas Tirith and inquire after his King.

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Lady Arien,

I've reread your letter several times and each time I am surprised at you for writing back to me. Not because I doubt you're brave enough to beard the lion in his den, especially when he was so forward as to ask after you... More because you have a sharp wit and I can't picture it choosing such a boulder-minded nay-sayer to join in conversation. Even the most genuine pity for my clumsiness couldn't be this determined. I'm then forced to decide you don't pity me after all, and find myself in a fine marsh of confusion. Women, as a rule, avoid me. I had concluded that whatever might once have appealed to them (and that was a very long time ago) has died out of me. What is left in this fine corpse to tempt you? Not my silver tongue, that is sure.

Where questions of what you seem to see in me leave off, questions of how I am to respond build up. I'm bad at writing letters (why then did I send you one, you ask?). I am bad at understanding people. I am even worse, if possible, at understanding myself. Erynbenn says that if brutal honesty works on everyone else, I ought to try it on my own head and heart. Troublesome young scamp — he grins at me cheekily, as if he knows the answer full well and refuses to tell — and he knows that, laid up as he is, I cannot revenge myself. Why I took up with him, I don't know. But perhaps he is right.

Your scarf is losing your smell, which is odd because I did not remember you having a smell. Perhaps it was a mistake to wash it, but I didn't think you'd like seeing it all bloody. I have a strange hope to give it back to you, and maybe when I do we can talk. Maybe seeing you in front of me will loosen my blasted tongue.

Until then, I want to ask that you keep writing for now, and I will write back when I can. I know I will miss it if you stop — and that is as brutally honest as I can seem to get just now.

Again: keep your strength. You are one of the few life-lines holding the queen to shore. One life in jeopardy is quite enough.

Bartho

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Bartho,

I appreciate honesty. In fact, I prize it above all else. Imagine (if it is not too foul) a pompous Gondorian tradesman telling you that you would be the 'ornament of his household' and he would 'prize you above all his wealth', all while fondling his jewelry and not meeting your eyes. Better someone who looks me in the face and tells me I'm clumsy. Is that enough reason for me to write to you? To say I was delighted to receive your letter would be so far understated as to be almost untrue. Was it presumptuous of me to send your letter along with the military dispatches? It was probably illegal. But needs must where Melkor drives, and I am tired of being the only one that I can speak to. My thoughts are all dark now. The sky droops closer to the horizon everyday and even the dogs and horses are fidgeting.

Shame on you for disparaging yourself in that unnecessary way! I shall be utterly insulted if you use such words to me again. In the matter of conversation: fewer words, if they are forthright, say much more than a thousand useless phrases.

I apologize for my impertinence, but I wonder who this woman was that you loved. I can almost picture her behind your words, but the picture could be a wrong one. I'm afraid I despise her; she did not treat you well.

The Queen is fighting still, perhaps even harder than ever. She has an inner strength that scolds me for my worrying. One thing above all she does not doubt: that her husband is on his way back to her. She will live to see him again, she tells me, and I find it inspiring and heart-breaking that she never assumes he will have the cure with him. 'He will try, and he will not leave me alone,' she says, again and again. Am I foolish and weak to be frightened? I love her. She is many things I wish to be and am not. Unafraid being chief among them. I pray Ilúvatar will see fit to spare her — for none of the rest of us can.

I yelled at a kitchen maid yesterday. She looked quite bewildered, and I hated myself for giving in to my own insecurity. It is fast becoming clear that there are many things I cannot control. This I also hate. At best, my world has been held together by the belief that enough work can solve anything, but there is work ordinary mortal hands were never meant to do. I must forget my pride before I become too irritable to withstand, too anxious to laugh with, and too hard to befriend.

Do you mind my telling you such things?

I did not realize I had a smell either. What is it? Please be kind, Sir Rabbit, and tell me it is not the odor of a mule.

Arien 

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June 5

Edoras, Rohan

Merry was busy in the kitchen fixing himself a special treat for elevenses. Men didn't eat such meals, but whenever possible, Merry tried to make some just for himself. Today he had a beautiful sack of mushrooms, gathered specially on his last ride out with Eomer's personal guard. They had good-naturedly dismounted and helped him forage for them, even though not one of them wanted to actually try the delicacy he'd described to them. Oh well. More for him.

With brisk and loving fingers, he washed them, removed the stems, and laid them on a clean towel. Humming 'The Old Man In The Moon', he chopped the celery, garlic, and other things, browning them in the skillet and delighting in the sizzling sound and the smell of softening vegetables. Outside Edoras things were beginning to stabilize a little as Eomer worked tirelessly to reveal the deceptions that had divided the noblemen against each other, but all hobbits knew quite well how to take advantage of the calm moments as they came. Perhaps, Merry though, if this batch turned out well, he would be able to convince Eomer to try a few.

Expertly wielding a wooden spoon, he mixed the final ingredients of the stuffing together and began spooning them into the hollow mushrooms. While the miniature masterpieces baked in the large ovens, he cleaned up his utensils, his song changing to Bilbo's Bath Song, influenced by the suds climbing his arms. Noon sun turned the stone walls warm and orange.

He was just removing the pan from the ovens and leaning over to savor the aroma, when the kitchen door opened and Lothíriel appeared.

"Meriadoc?" she called.

"Bullroarer's Beard, fine timing I don't think," Merry muttered in exasperation, but when he turned around there was a ready smile on his face. "Yes, Lady Lothíriel?"

"Eomer needs you upstairs. Some report has just come in and I think he wants your council."

Merry cocked his curly head, bundling his precious mushrooms into a basket lined with a towel to keep them warm. "My council?" he mused. "Of all the councilors in Middle Earth, you'd think someone with better qualifications could be there to help him in these matters — so Frodo decides to leave the Shire and I weasel out his plans — so I cheek Lord Elrond and say I won't let the Fellowship leave without me — but honestly, my grasp of defense amounts to 'stow away on soldier's horse', 'see Nazgul', 'stab Nazgul in knee' — I'm less than useless except for pipe-smoking, feeding people up, and getting in over my head…" Suddenly he realized he was speaking out loud and he whirled around to find Lothíriel watching him with a smile twitching the corner of her mouth.

"Exactly, Master Brandybuck. I'll leave you to it, then."

Still carrying his basket, Merry pressed open the door to Eomer's study and found the king in close conversation with a young eorred captain whom Merry recognized.

"Good day, Captain Theodran," the hobbit greeted him, "I trust your new wife is well."

"Well enough, Sir Meriadoc," Theodran acknowledged, far too formal (in Merry's mind) for someone who wouldn’t even have been of age in the Shire.

Eomer seemed eager to get straight to the point. "Merry, Theodran reports meeting with two elves and a ranger near the gap. We have orcs amassing in the south, and though it may be they intend to attack Gondor, they are a threat to our borders."

Merry's insides twisted. His memories of orcs were vivid and horrible. "Oh dear," he said.

"Oh dear?" Theodran repeated incredulously.

The king ignored him. "The orcs we are prepared to handle, I think. There are still corsair spies and insurgents loose in my lands, but I think the marshals are united enough that this attack can be repulsed. What is of the greater concern is that we can do no more than retain our own lands."

"What more's needed?" Merry frowned.

"Gondor is in jeopardy." Eomer's mouth was a thin line and his brown eyes grim. "My spies report that Queen Mavranor is closing on her goal, and due to takeovers within Harad she has many more men than Gondor can put forth."

"Strider's fought worse odds before," the hobbit pointed out, thinking of Weather Top.

Eomer sat behind his desk and sighed. "Aye, but the communiqués from the lines are coming from Faramir, not Aragorn. Faramir is a worthy man and a very fine general (though perhaps I, his brother-in-law, say it as should not), but in starvation and against such odds and such an enemy, his soldiers need their king." He reached for a thick bundle wrapped in calfskin. "There is also this." The bundle was spattered with mud and discolored with rain, as if it had traveled a long way. "It was actually brought in by our courier line — being too large for the more secretive ways of travel. It's… well, you had best judge for yourself."

Merry's mind, which was a keen one and more analytical than he imagined, centered immediately on the package. Undoing the knots, he unwrapped the thick scrolls of parchment contained in the calfskin and unrolled the topmost of them. Perhaps the scent of mushrooms emanating from the basket had loosened his tongue; unmindful of either the king or the captain, Merry let out a long, low whistle. The pages held only cryptic paragraphs of description, with columns of numbers running alongside, but the hobbit recognized — as had Eomer — their tremendous worth. "Beruthiel's outdone herself this time, hasn't she?"

"Aye, Meriadoc. I can only hope obtaining this hasn't revealed my spies in Harad to Mavranor; but even if it has, it could mean the difference between victory and defeat for Gondor. A worthy gain, especially when the last warning came too late to prevent the assassination attempt. Queen Mavranor is planning to move immediately, and if Gondor gets no aid—"

"Nonsense, Eomer, " the hobbit retorted briskly, slapping the next unrolled parchment on top of the first with a flick of his small wrist. "What Gondor needs are these numbers. There's no cause to worry yourself to death over soldiers who aren't yours when you have plenty already on your plate. No cause mustering before the beacons are lit, you know that full well. But I'd send them along as fast as can be managed — 'late' is very seldom better than 'never' in these cases."

Theodran stared in befuddled horror at the outspoken creature, glancing at his king to see what the reaction would be to having a hobbit summarily ordering him about. To his astonishment, Eomer was merely nodding, as if he'd been craving such advice and was now only double-checking it for flaws.

"You are right. There is no good in dividing my forces; even if I were of some help on Gondor's southern border, it will be of little consequence if their northern border falls to the orcs. Hhelm knows which are the swiftest horses in my stables. There are a few shortcuts my couriers could take, now that the snow is melting, that should deliver these to Gondor in a matter of days. In the meanwhile it would be best for me to personally see to these orcs. I am weary of Enedhwaith forever plaguing us with vermin. Theodran, you will help me in that. If they can be killed swiftly, I may yet have aid left over to send to Gondor. And there is nothing to prevent me from sending them the supplies they are lacking. Kopairin still has open lanes of travel that can be put to good use."

"A good point. You have a wise head on your shoulders, Eomer — when you're not too tired out to use it. Excellent," Merry nodded. "Shortest council session I've ever had to sit through."

Eomer started wrapping up the scrolls again and smiled, "And to think people accuse hobbits of being slow!"

"Slow to change, quick to common sense. Now have a mushroom before they get cold — my lord," he tacked on as an afterthought.