Ch. 27 - A New Ally

“Keep still, Listöwel. Please!” Siriondil spoke through clenched teeth. “We must wait a little longer. I will not go up to the garrison at night. They will shoot first and ask questions later.”

“I understand,” she whispered back, “but Gildor is barely breathing. I am afraid any delay will kill him.”

“Please be quiet. We may all die with arrows in our throats. We…”

“Halt!” The shout from atop the garrison’s walls echoed through the valley and her heart clenched with fear at the command held within it. “You are in the land of Gondor. Speak. What is the password?”

“By all the Valar, I have no idea,” Listöwel moaned. “Do you?”

Siriondil shook his head. “We are friends of the Steward,” he shouted. “We bring a wounded captain of Gondor with us. Is Captain Durahil here?”

The gate opened. A small contingent of warriors rode out on horses and quickly surrounded them. One of the men jumped off his horse, dragged a torch forward, and looked long and hard at Siriondil. “You are the Master Healer of Gondor!” His voice shook in amaze.

“I am. And my traveling companion is Lady Indis’ handmaiden. But more importantly, we are in the company of Captain Gildor, late of the Steward’s Own Guard. We need help. He is badly wounded.”

The man bowed to Listöwel and turned towards his men. “Come and help Captain Gildor. And you,” he pointed to one of the youngest of his warriors, “take the Lady Listöwel to my quarters.”

~*~

She settled herself on a chair near the fire, holding her hands out to garner as much warmth as possible. Her shoes had been unceremoniously kicked off and her feet lay very near the hearth. She closed her eyes for a moment and tears gathered in their corners. ‘Where is Indis now? Is Faramir still alive? What of Théodred? And where, oh where is Éomund?’

“My Lady.”

Startled, she looked up. Who would call her ‘lady?’

“My name is Captain Durahil. A missive addressed to me was received two days ago from Prince Imrahil; it told me that Éomund, Marshal of the Mark, might call for my aid. In the missive, the prince stated that Marshal Éomund was traveling with your party. Is that true?”

“Nay. He was not, Captain. Though…” She did not know what to tell the man.

“The prince has placed a great amount of trust in me. May I show you the missive? Mayhap it will help you decide to speak.”

She blushed and took the letter from his outstretched hand. Tears sprang quickly as she read the letter. After finishing, she looked up. “The Lady Indis and Steward Faramir are traveling, as the prince states, westward. Master Healer Siriondil, three captains of Gondor and myself accompanied her; all left Minas Tirith at the same time. Éomund was to be part of our company, but something happened while he was away on a mission for the prince, and the Lady Indis decided she could not wait for his return. We were also accompanied by Théoden King’s son, Théodred.” She cleared her throat.

“Forgive me. You must be tired and hungry.” He called orders out the door, then walked to the fire, took the kettle off and proceeded to a table nearby. Quickly pouring hot water into a pot, he brought out cups, offered her tea, and waited for her to continue.

“Wolves attacked and we lost Captain Baranor. Indis asked us to bring Captain Gildor here for help. She, along with Captain Gorlim and Prince Théodred continued on alone. She asked me to ask you….”

“I am going to join her. Prince Imrahil has asked me to,” the Captain said. “I have already picked two men whom I trust. They will accompany me. We will leave at first light. They are taking the Great West Road?”

“They are. But Éomund was to join us and I have seen naught of him.”

“Neither have I. This missive states that he was to stop here first, receive reinforcements, and then go forward. I was away for the last week on a sortie. Orcs attacked further north; I just returned this evening. Let me speak with my men and see if he indeed stopped. Do not be concerned.”

She nodded and he left the room. Once again, fears assailed her. ‘Where is Éomund? He should have been along soon after we left the City. Could the wolves…?’ She hoped not.

Captain Durahil returned within moments along with his esquire who carried bread, cheeses and some dried fruit. “Éomund has been here. He came two nights ago. He it was who carried Prince Imrahil’s missive. He took a fresh horse and some supplies and headed west. He should be with them by now.” The captain took a deep breath. “Sleep here in my quarters. I will order my men to accompany you and Master Siriondil to the City in the morning. I will leave long before you are up and about. Farewell for now, my Lady. Do not fear; we will find the Lady Indis and help her on her mission.”

“You will not farewell me,” she said furiously, rising as she spoke to emphasize her words. “I am the Lady Indis’ handmaiden. I was chosen to be part of her company and I will join you and your men tomorrow morning. As will Master Healer Siriondil. His services are direly needed by Steward Faramir.”

The captain took a step back at her vehemence and held up a hand to stop her. “Forgive me. I did not realize you planned to continue. I would not stop you, my Lady, if that is the will of the Lady Indis.”

“Be assured, Captain, it is!”

“Then rest now. I will inform Master Siriondil. We leave before first light.” He bowed low and he and his esquire left.

~*~

Éomund waited for her anger to subside. They had ridden for more days than he could remember, always hiding in caves during the night, waking at first light to a meager meal and a cold cave, and still she would not relent. Gorlim called a halt. Éomund recognized the cave Gorlim was pointing to. This memory-filled journey was almost beyond endurance. They had laughed and cried and spoke of Boromir as Steward as they sat in this cave on their outward passage. He saw Indis’ grit her teeth and knew she was thinking the same. That trip had a disastrous end; Éomund thought this one would end in even further disaster.

They had passed the garrison at Calenhad and would reach the beacon-tower of Halifirien in another day at best. Gorlim and Éomund left Indis and Théodred in the cave, along with Faramir, unharnessed the draft horses, and returned to the garrison. With Prince Imrahil’s orders, they were able to procure food and fresh mounts along with new draft horses to pull the cart. “At the least,” Éomund told Gorlim, “we will be prepared once we turn from the road.” Gorlim nodded his approval.

By the time they had returned to the cave, Théodred had a fire going and Faramir had been settled, as comfortably as possible. They eagerly divided the fresh food, sat and ate. 

After some time, Éomund turned to Indis. “It will be another two days, with good weather, before we reach the garrison at the Mering Stream. We should have no trouble getting more food and fresh horses.” She nodded but said nothing. He continued.

“The cold is becoming bitter, Lady Indis. I fear for Faramir.”

Her lips were a taut line in her face. The withering glance she threw at him would have chilled a normal man, but Éomund was already chilled to the bone from the cold. Also, he had endured his own grandmother’s same look many a time. ‘Seems shield-maidens and women of Gondor have much in common,’ he mused as he watched her. ‘Stout hearts and anger.’ He smiled to himself and saw she noted it.

“You would laugh at our situation?” she asked icily.

“I laugh at my fate.”

She raised an eyebrow, the tautness leaving her body. He intrigued her. ‘Good! That will take her mind off this mess for a moment at least.’

“I am remembering something Morwen Steelsheen once said to me.”

Her eyebrow raised. ‘Another good sign. Mayhap her anger is dissipating.’

“What did she say?”

“That if I kept my face like that, in this cold weather, it would likely freeze and I would forever be left with a scowl on my face.” He held his breath.

Fire flamed for a moment in her eyes, then, a smile crinkled at the corners of them and she burst out laughing. “My mother said the same thing too!”

“Forgive me, my Lady. I spoke only in concern when I asked you to turn towards Edoras. I will follow you to the end of this journey, wherever it takes us, but we need warmth and good food. Long have I been stationed in the Eastfold. I trust my men at the Mering. May we not stop there, stay for one night with Faramir in a real bed, eat warm food and refresh ourselves before we turn north?”

She started to speak when she heard the horse’s scream from outside the cave. Instantly, all but Faramir stood with swords in their hands. The smell of Orcs was foul on the air.