Chapter 42 - Poison

For a long time the golden hall had merely been a faint hint of colour on the horizon, a hazy vision mingling with his watery eyes and the hair that the wind threw across his face. Yet now the gates were closer than he had thought possible, and open, gleaming in the sun.

"There is something approaching," Legolas lifted a hand and peered across the bright field ahead. "Riders, I am certain."

Faramir looked also, calming his strained breath as gradually the figures came into view over the rise a short way ahead of them.

"Do you recognise anyone?" The Elf looked to him hopefully. "I would that it were someone we could trust. Men have little love for strangers at the best of times, and they will not take kindly to finding an Elf traversing their lands."

Faramir nodded, the Rohirrim were suspicious of foreigners, yet to ones known to them their hospitality and generosity, especially with ale, was unparalleled. "I wonder what they made of Gimli."

Legolas raised an eyebrow, and in his faint smile Faramir saw the Elf's imagination rise to the interesting thought.

As the riders drew nearer Faramir was surprised. "I can make out the first rider. He is well known to me. Hama, doorwarden to the king, and captain of his guard." He squinted into the bright light as the brilliant dark horse turned before them and circled, his guard following until they had formed a tight ring around the two companions.

"Is he trustworthy?" Faramir caught Legolas' eye as the Elf spoke, hoping with equal fervour that the man he had known for some years would give them the news they both longed to hear.

Hama's usually cheerful face was surprisingly dark as he lowered his spear to meet the eyes of the man and Elf. "Name yourselves quickly strangers, I have little patience this day."

"You were never one to murder your guests, Hama." Faramir lifted his arm to shield his face against the sun, wincing as he did so for the unconscious movement had sent a rush of pain and nausea from his shoulder through his entire form.

Hama peered more closely as Legolas laid a steadying hand on the man's shoulder in case he should waver. Faramir could feel the captain's eyes studying him as he dismounted. Hama gave Legolas a weary look, and did not yet give the order for his guards to lower their spears.

It seemed such as strange thing to see a familiar face after all this time that Faramir could feel a slight smile lighting his face despite the pain. "Well met, Hama.

"My eyes do not deceive me!" The man's eyes widened after another moment of scrutiny. "It is Faramir returned at last! Forgive me for my caution but I did not recognise you under all that grime."

Faramir looked down at himself, noting that his once neat and clean appearance had been utterly transformed, first by the rain and trip down the Anduin, and then by his fall down the muddy slope upon Amon Hen. The clothes which had been cleaned and mended for him in Lorien were now torn and dark with mud, and the ragged bandage about his shoulder had soaked through till it was blood streaked and dirty. A glance at his companion further dampened his pride as the Elf seemed hardly to have a hair out of place.

"I see what it is." Hama smiled fondly, and his eyes seemed to be laughing silently at some memory. "You have begun to take after your brother. He never minded the weather or the mud, but you, Faramir, were always perfectly turned out. I sincerely hope you do not plan to follow in his footsteps. If that were so then I would suggest that you have misplaced the horse we lent you when last you were here."

Legolas' baffled expression at this speech was enough to cause Faramir to smile broadly and to grasp the warden's arm in welcome. "It is a joy to me to see you safe, Hama. I have sorely missed your good humour." Faramir felt his good spirits fade quickly again as his thoughts turned. "We have come many miles on the trail of our companions who were taken by Orcs. Can you not ease our hearts with news?"

Hama's expression too had become glum, and Faramir could now see clearly the heavy darkness beneath his eyes.

"Some cursed fate pursues you," Hama said, shaking his head.

Faramir felt Legolas start almost violently beside him, so sure they had both been of their friend's rescue. The Elf interrupted the man before he could go on, "What mean you? Are they dead?"

Confusion twisted Hama's features, "Nay, I meant only that they departed but a few hours since, exiled on the King's orders."

Faramir sucked in a sharp breath, barely able to think over the sudden elation that took his senses. Legolas seemed similarly affected, and grasped Hama's arm in his excitement. "They were well?"

"A little bruised," Hama smiled, "and the Dwarf none too pleased by being dragged from his sleep."

Faramir realised he had rarely seen Legolas smile, and when he did so then it seemed the light and mischievous glimmer in the Elf's eyes kindled his own joy at the thought of seeing Gimli's gruff countenance once more. "The foolish creature," Legolas smiled, shaking his head. "Sleeping while we traipsed over these endless fields.." He met Hama's eyes, realising what he had said. "Forgive me, I mean no offence to your lands."

"And none taken." Hama smiled, reassuringly. "But come, we have tarried here too long. Your Halfling is still within the city."

"Pippin remained behind?" Faramir felt a shadow of doubt drift over him, and wondered on what grounds could Aragorn had left the hobbit in a strange city with no other friend.

"Aye, and having been so recently abandoned he will welcome friendly faces."

"The same cannot be said for the king." The voice came from behind him and Faramir looked up as one of the rider's dismounted neatly and approached Hama, pulling on the captain's sleeve as no common soldier aught. He was small in stature and Faramir realised with surprise that he was only a boy, dressed in the battle gear of a man twice his age.

The boy turned to Faramir and Legolas and bowed slightly. "I mean no disrespect to his lordships but Rohan's gates no longer welcome strangers." The boy was young, and round faced so that would have appeared cheerful were it not for the deep lines of weariness beneath the eyes.

Hama placed a hand on the boy's head, tousling the hair that was the same shade as his own. "Hiri, I let you ride out with me, and then you speak out like this?"

Hiri looked up at his father, and asked in a voice that tried to hide his hurt confusion, "but I am right, am I not?"

"I would not have put it quite like that." Hama smiled fondly, giving Faramir and Legolas a knowing glance. "But come. Hiri, you must take Faramir behind you, and master.." he paused.

"Legolas." The Elf nodded.

"Master Legolas can ride with me."

Faramir grimaced at the thought of climbing into a saddle, and then again as he was forced to admit his pain to Hama. "I fear I cannot ride."

Hama's eyes swept over the bloodied bandage that wrapped his shoulder and seemed to take it in his stride. "I will take you before me then, for I have much news you must hear."

With his good hand, Faramir gripped Hama's outstretched arm and managed to climb into the saddle with only a small grimace of pain.

Beside him, Legolas was already mounted and Faramir smiled as he saw the expression of Hama's young son as he looked up at the Elf in front of him. It seemed he was barely resisting the urge to touch the Elf's silken hair of which the boy had never seen the like. Legolas' face did not betray his impatience, but the touch of his hand upon the horse's long neck, and the way he shifted in the saddle told Faramir he was longing to lay eyes on Pippin and see that the Hobbit was safe.

The great doors opened onto a dimly lit hall. Hama led the way through the low room, an antechamber where the flickering light from the torches mounted on the walls cast strange shadows on the floor beneath their feet.

It was a relief to Legolas to hear the heavy bolt of the door behind them come to, and to be out of sight of the prying gazes of the suspicious onlookers of Edoras. He had never before felt so keenly what it was to be an Elf. Finally he understood some of what Gimli and Faramir must have felt in Lorien, and perhaps even among the elves in distant Imladris.

Their feet sounded loudly on the stone floor, patterned with many coloured tiles. There were men guarding the door to the king's hall, as there had been outside, and their faces were suspicious and, he thought, somewhat unfriendly, yet they moved aside as they recognised their captain.

The warm-feelings Legolas had begun to develop for the sturdy Hama, having been momentarily chilled by the news of the dangerous political situation in the south, rose again as the man bid them farewell.

Hama's own expression was glum as he reached to take Legolas' arm in turn. "May you have more luck than your companions," he said. "The King has as keen a wit as any, if left to his own devices, but if I were in your place I would guard your backs."

"We will not forget your aid, Hama. Perhaps we may even be able to return the favour, and set right some of what has gone amiss." Faramir touched his hand to Hama's son's curly head. "Farewell, Hiri. Look after your father, and make sure he takes care of himself also."

The boy set his chin, and said "I will."

An almost stale odour closed about them as they entered the hall. The air was so still it seemed as though Legolas' own breath stirred the dust that swirled slowly about them, lit up by the great windows slanting light down from the rafters. There were others in the hall also; standing in the darker corners, watching the entrance of the two companions.

Together Legolas and Faramir moved forward cautiously, and Legolas saw with some relief that Faramir's expression was as determined as his own. Their reception had been discourteous at the very least, and from what Hama had told them about Aragorn and Gimli, the situation could quickly become far more dangerous.

Faramir touched his arm as they skirted the large brazier set in the floor, and murmured, "I do not like the sound of this councillor of which Hama spoke. If I were to guess I would say he is the cause of this unrest."

Legolas nodded almost imperceivably, feeling the man's eyes upon him, waiting for his assessment. "Whether or not he is an agent of Saruman or simply seeks to gain control of Rohan for his own purposes, he has the ear of the King."

The thought brought to light memories of his own father's court, and the thought brought a faint smile to Legolas' lips. Gaining the King of Mirkwood's ear in any matter that concerned his people was a trial indeed, one in which even his own son had never quite mastered.

The figure on the throne, as they approached, however, was as unlike to Thranduil as could be imagined. Dark eyes, sunken into dark hollows, followed their progress through the hall, and the gaze unnerved even Legolas, who had expected for not all to be right. With hands clasped deadly still upon his lap, and backed by proud shields of green collecting dust, the King of Rohan regarded his noble guests.

Legolas watched Faramir out of the corner of his eye, not knowing the proper procedure and feeling strangely vulnerable.

"Hail Theoden King."

It was difficult to conjure the blank serenity that was required with all the worries and fears filling his mind, yet he would attempt it, if only for a little while. Fortunately Faramir had managed to adopt a manner that was a pleasant mixture of old friend and the respectful visitor. More stark a transformation Legolas had rarely seen.

"It is not so long since I was last graced by your hospitality, my Lord," Faramir had said to the King, "yet once again I must thank you for your welcome."

Theoden shifted slightly in his chair, "You might once have looked for welcome here, son of Denethor, and once we would have offered it freely to friends from Gondor. But the days have grown dark, and darker still are the tidings that have come to us from the south.

"I was counselled to cast you from the city, you and your strange companion." Legolas felt the King's sunken eyes come to rest on himself, and he held Theoden's gaze, yet not without feeling great unrest. He had the sudden sensation that something was staring out at him from those dark hollows. At last the eyes looked away, and returned to Faramir. "I would know, however, what we are to face in the coming days." Faramir seemed untroubled by the keen gaze, for he spoke with an elevation and comradery that Legolas could not himself feel. He thought for a moment that perhaps it was heightened Elvish senses that enabled himself to perceive this shadow of a threat in the face of the king, yet then he looked sideways he saw that behind the animated features and fine words, Faramir's eyes remained hard, and the face was smiling with strain rather than mirth.

Behind the King, Legolas noticed that another man stood almost shadowed by the great green banners. He moved for the first time as Faramir was speaking, and Legolas was sure that this was the Grima of which Hama had spoken.

"My lord, I come not from Minas Tirith," Faramir was explaining in defence of his ignorance of the volatile political situation. "I come out of the north, and with me comes Legolas of Mirkwood. We had heard nothing of your fears ere the lord Hama spoke with us, but believe me when I say that my father does nothing but for the good of Gondor. He would think no more of betraying our allies and fellow men than laying down our swords before the Black Gate itself."

Theoden seems slightly moved "you speak with sincerity, and your words may indeed hold some truth, but I will not be so easily swayed by hollow promises."

Legolas saw quickly the impossible nature of the situation. There was nothing they could say to dissuade the King from believing his own councillors. Frustration had begun to eat away at him, and he longed to escape the stagnant hall and its corrupt councils.

Legolas shot a look at Faramir as Grima moved out of the shadows, receiving a similar glance in return. "You do well to question, my lord," the counsellor nodded, placing a white hand on the arm of Theoden's chair. "After all, why should we believe you, son of Denethor? Is it not your blood that has betrayed us? What can you tell us of your father's mind save that you are not privy to his thoughts. It is well known you are not even deemed fit to attend his council."

Faramir's lips were pressed together and bloodless. The genial facade had been dropped, and Grima's mouth twitched as he saw how deeply he had struck.

Legolas felt his anger rise once more, and this time did not bother to restrain it. "My lord Theoden," he said, ignoring the King's quickly raised hand. "You speak of deceit, of hollow promises and yet this snake whispers poison in your ears even as you cast away the only ones who could bring you aid."

Legolas saw at once that Theoden was beginning to waver, and Grima saw it too. "What aid do you bring, Elf?" the counsellor asked quickly, stepping down from the dais to approach him. "Archers to protect our walls? That I would call aid. If Gondor has forsaken us and laid us bare to the red eye we must turn elsewhere for aid."

Legolas felt disgust rise in him as Grima found yet another way to twist their words in his favour.

"Where would you suggest, Lord Grima?" Faramir inclined his head as the counsellor passed by Legolas and came to him. Legolas saw that something of the old fire had returned to his companion's eyes. "That the King turn to Saruman in his plight, as you did once, did you not?"

Grima rounded on them, and the transformation was alarming even to Legolas who had felt the evil about the man from the very first.

"What does the wizard pay you Grima? What has he promised in return for your service?"

The man's lips were drawn back from his teeth in a snarl, and Legolas felt as though he could do nothing but watch in horrified fascination as he turned on Faramir. The ferocity of the man's bearing and the uncontrolled anger in his eyes was enough to cause Legolas to instinctively reach for his weapon, realising too late that it had been requisitioned at the door. Grima struck out at Faramir, but he was slow, encumbered by heavy robes and lack of recent activity. Faramir easily caught the wrist of his assailant and grasped it, drawing back the sleeve before Grima could defend himself.

The pale skin was blotchy in places but the old scar showed out clear and damning, the mark of the white hand. It was not a hard deduction to make, Legolas had suspected it himself, having only lacked the proof to speak on it. Now that had that proof.

As Faramir attempted to turn Grima's arm as evidence towards the king, the man managed to twist out of his hold swivelling around until he was able to drive back, throwing his entire strength into Faramir's right side. He went down immediately, clutching his injured shoulder. At the same moment Legolas swiftly made a grab for Grima, realising their only chance was slipping away like water through their fingers, but the worm slid safely out of reach, signing his recruited men in the hall to form a protective circle.

"You see my lord how these conspirators hoped to lull you into idleness, and then strike out as our backs are turned," Grima spoke again to the king.

Legolas clenched his fists by his sides as he knelt down by Faramir. The man groaned, half with pain, Legolas thought, and half with the frustration he also was feeling. The lies the counsellor was spitting out would more than convince the already confused king. Their attempt at proving Grima a traitor appeared no more than an unprovoked attack without the evidence of Grima's brand to support their argument, and there was no way now that Grima would risk giving them a second chance at exposing his secret.

"I am afraid there can be no other explanation," Theoden said, and he seemed almost to sigh. "Yet I am saddened by the fact... That Gondor could betray us to the enemy without a thought for all the innocent children..."

"Do not worry, my king. You need not fear for Rohan, Saruman has already gifted us all his forces and they will arrive before long. You must not trouble yourself," Grima met Legolas' eyes as he spoke, "I will take care of these two."

"You had a chance, and you took it."

"And failed in the attempt." Faramir clenched his hand into a fist as Legolas prodded attempted to assess the damage to his shoulder.

"Some blood, and no doubt bruising." The Elf drew the cloth back over the wound. "I do not like the look of it and I would that Aragorn were here."

Faramir stood, pulling his cloak back around him. It was dark and damp and his feet echoed on the stone floor. "They will go to Minas Tirith, most likely." He crossed the small floor in a matter of three or four steps, then turned back. "Aragorn will not have waited. We have to have trust that they will reach the city in time to warn against the coming of Saruman. As fate would have it, we will not be given the same chance."

"There will be another time to make an appeal to the king." Legolas was attempting to be reassuring, and the tone of his voice was not particularly convincing.

There was silence for a moment, neither of them having anything comforting to offer. The sound of Faramir's breathing and his footsteps upon the floor seemed loud to him in the dark cell.

He looked up suddenly as Legolas sprang up and moved over the far wall. "Must you pace backwards and forwards in such a manner?" Legolas had leaned his hands against the stone of the wall, his back to Faramir. "The space is small enough for my liking without being constantly reminded of it."

Faramir stopped his pacing, hearing the tremor in the other's voice. "Forgive me," he said, looking for any sign that the Elf was listening. "I had not thought "

There was, in the silence that followed, another voice.

At first it seemed merely an echo of the previous conversation, but it came again. Legolas turned quickly, his face pale but his eyes alight. Together they made for the door in time for it to open a crack, showing a small figure in the candle-light beyond.

"Pippin!"

The broad grin of the Hobbit brought joy to Faramir's heart in a rush, and soon he was bending down by Legolas to give the young Took a mighty hug.

"We have found you at last!" Pippin spoke quietly, pushing the door to and bolting it once more. "We have taken longer than we meant, for there are hundreds of cells below the city and the guards moved too quick for me to give chase."

Following the Hobbit round a bend in the dark corridor, Legolas asked "How did you get into the prison?"

"Not that you could not achieve the same result by yourself." Faramir smiled.

"Not at all," Legolas nodded.

Pippin went on, "I did have a little help, Eowyn and I have schemed for some time in an attempt to rescue you. She has lived here all her life, you see, and knows hidden passages that that horrid man could never find."

They turned the corner and there she was, waiting for them. She held a candle, the light of which was eclipsed slightly by a curtain of golden hair. She was wearing white, Faramir saw, and was very pale. It was the appearance of her face, he realised, more than her dress that surprised him; her expression so very calm and cold and yet her eyes burned with life such as he had never seen.

They followed her throughout the twisting rooms, like a bird guiding lost sailors back to shore. Faramir could not but be aware of his heavier tread compared to that of Legolas, and the desperation he felt lest that white figure should fade and leave them alone in the dark.

They emerged at last up a winding stair into a small dimly-lit hall. The Lady Eowyn turned finally to face them, and in the light of the room the mystery of her person faded. She seemed tired and worn out with care, yet her bearing remained straight and she did not show anything upon her face. The look of her eyes, however, would not leave Faramir, and even as he thought of it after, the pain he had seen there seemed to pierce him also.

"You must forgive my uncle, he does not know his own mind," she was saying. "The lord Hama has prepared horses for you, and we will go now to the stables, there I must say farewell."

"Will you not ride with us, my lady?" Faramir found himself asking.

Legolas glanced at him sternly, his eyes expressing annoyance and confusion. "It would not be wise. We will ride long and hard to reach Minas Tirith before the army of Saruman."

"That is precisely why she cannot stay here."

"My lords." Eowyn's tone held anger, and both man and Elf looked to her. "I come and go at my own will. I thank you for your concerns but I will do what I discern to be for the best. My duty is to the king."

Faramir knew then that he could no longer pity the lady of Rohan for her trouble, for she was too proud and wilful to even pity herself.

"Well said," Pippin said, pressing his lips together in satisfaction. "Now shall we go? I for one would rather not spend breakfast with Saruman."

"Nor second breakfast either, I suppose?"

Pippin frowned good-naturedly at Faramir. "If you had an appetite as large as a Hobbit, you would not be laughing about it."

Legolas shook his head at both of them, exchanged a glace with Eowyn, and ruffled Pippin's curly hair

The hall was ominous in the dark but they reached the great gates without even a murmur of trouble. Passing out into the antechamber Faramir listened carefully for the slightest sound that might be following them.

He could not hear anything distinct, it was what he felt that disturbed him. The ground seemed to be moving beneath their feet, shaking slightly as though they stood in the path of a herd of stampeding oliphants. Legolas was standing still, his body seemingly attuned with his senses. Faramir watched him fearfully, a growing dread swelling inside him.

Pippin however, had not noticed the others, and was already reaching to open the heavy door.

"Do not!"

Legolas' shout was too late. Pippin had tugged on the door until it swung open on its heavy hinges. A blaze of light took them all in the face, blinding them. The vague awareness that it should be the calm light of dusk outside came to him, and the unnatural light faded slightly so they could see what was spread before them.

They stood at the very pinnacle of Edoras, the steps leading down from the great hall. From here the plains of Rohan were spread out before them in their green splendour. Yet now they were not green. It did not occur to Faramir at first that the black mass covering the fields was moving, shifting like some black stretch of water out as far as they could see. When his eyes focused and he could make out the dark helms glinting in the failing sun, the thousand tiny spear heads, the armour, he recognised the army. The dark figures of orcs were in the city also, cloaking the streets in black ants crawling up the steep slope to meet them. At they head, the only white figure among them, holding a staff aloft from which shone forth the light that had at first blinded them, was Saruman the White.