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My Sword Trembles - Book Three - 'My Sword' Series  by Agape4Gondor

Chapter Twenty-Three – Journey Interrupted

Valanestel had joined Borondir the day before. Even now, the despair the Ranger saw in Borondir’s eyes was profound. “Do not lose heart, Captain,” Valanestel said quietly, ere they camped for the night. “You have covered much ground in your search. I deem it wise, now, that we turn north. Your men have found no sign of the boy south of Emyn Arnen. There are others who search further down the River. In the morn, let us start at the cemetery of the line of Húrin.”

Eyes lifted to him in pain. “I had once been part of his rescue party on the road to Rohan. All that I saved there, I have now lost.”

“Not lost,” the Ranger said, “just not found – yet.”

Borondir’s heart lifted. “Not found yet.” His eyes lit up. “You do not suppose the lad is playing a game of Hide ‘n Seek with us?”

“Nay,” Valanestel put his hand on Borondir’s shoulder. “I have never met the Steward, but I deem him wiser than that. Though he could have stayed where he came out of the River. It would be one of the things any father teaches a son. Stay in place, when you are lost.”

“That is the key!” Borondir jumped up. “We go to the riverbank now.”

“Anor has set, Captain. Going through the hills of Emyn Arnen is treacherous. Orcs are known to travel in the night. I would wait till morning.”

Borondir stood and called his men to him. “We leave now for the Anduin. It is a straight shot from here if we stay south of Emyn Arnen. We have not the hills to traverse if we start out here and head east. Are you with me?”

His men, of course, nodded in agreement. Valanestel shook his head. “You throw caution to the wind, Captain.”

“I must. Too many nights have passed with the boy alone in this, as you say, Orc-infested land. We leave now.” He turned towards the River and was quickly followed by his company. Valanestel nodded to his own men, and they followed the Knights of Gondor.

After four hours of hard walking, Borondir called a halt. “We will rest here for what is left of the night. Be prepared to move out before first light.” Quickly and quietly, the men opened their blankets and fell into sleep. Pickets were set; no fires were lit. Valanestel’s men were given first watch. The Ranger bit his lip. They had made so much noise during their march, that Orcs could easily have followed them without their so much as knowing. He gave sharp commands for extra vigilance.

Within moments, the camp settled. Valanestel sat in consternation. ‘I do not think this wise.’ But the thought was hardly contemplated when a strange, yet familiar smell, reached his nose. “Orcs!” he whispered in alarm.

~*~

“Another night under the stars, Faramir,” Elrohir’s voice was low. “Would you wish me to show you some of the stars and their names?”

“My father has always been drawn to the stars, Lord Elrohir.” Faramir’s whisper was typical of children, too loud in its attempt at quiet. Elrohir smiled gently. He remembered Estel, at about this age, whispering in just such a manner. He looked up in surprise as the boy continued, “but I wonder if the names he taught me are the same as you know.”

“Then let us proceed.” He pointed to a large star mass. “There is Wilwaren.”

Faramir jumped up and down in excitement. “Yes! The butterfly. I know it by that name!”

Elladan looked over at the two. “Faramir,” he enjoined quietly. “We are still in the wilds; keep your voice low.”

The boy blushed furiously. “I am heartily sorry,” He whispered.

“Never mind him, Faramir. I too feel the excitement of the stars. Sometimes they sing.”

“Oh!” The boy’s eyes widened. “Will I ever hear their song?”

Aragorn smiled as he tended their fire. “I know you will, Faramir. Perhaps next Spring.”

The lad nodded and looked again at Elrohir. “More, please?”

The Elf smiled in remembrance. ‘This little mite reminds me so much of Estel at this age, it hurts.’ He looked up at the stars again, trying to blink away tears, “There is Soronúmë. Do you know that one?”

More subdued after Elladan’s reprimand, Faramir nodded and did his child-like whisper again. “The eagle.” Excitement still shone in the boy’s eyes.

Aragorn was gladdened to see that the child, though listening and taking the reprimand to heart, was not cowed by it.

“Will you now show me one, Faramir?”

“Menelvagor,” he pointed to the bright star before them. “The Swordsman of the Sky.”

The note of awe in the young Steward’s voice surprised even Elladan. “Why is that one so important to you, Faramir?” The elder asked.

“Because it is the star of Túrin Turambar, son of Húrin, who it is said will stand with Tulkas and Fionwë and exact revenge in the name of all Men.”

The Elves both sat back in wonder.

“And what of Eärendil?” Aragorn asked quietly.

“Well, of course, he is important too.”

Aragorn chuckled. “I think it is time for us to sleep. We are almost halfway to Osgiliath. I hope to come close enough, on the morrow, to send you on your way.”

Faramir nodded and lay down obediently. His eyes, however, did not close. He watched the stars and wept quietly for his father and Boromir. Many a night like this, they would lie thus on some camping or fishing trip, and watch the stars and speak of them. There was no shame in his heart.

Elrohir sat beside him, stroking his hair. Quietly, an Elven lullaby gently wafted in the air. The boy’s eyes slowly grew heavy and finally closed. Elrohir kissed him on the forehead and moved next to his brothers.

“Let me look at your ankle,” Elladan commanded.

Aragorn did as he was bid and grimaced as a finger touched the wounded flesh.

“Not healing properly.”

“I have rested as you asked, Elladan. There is not much more I can do.”

“I know. Elrohir, where is my pack?”

“You put it on the litter. Here,” the younger Elf picked up the pack as he returned from Faramir’s side. “It looks ugly,” he commented as Elladan removed the bandages.

Aragorn laughed, but the laugh turned to a groan as Elladan gently prodded. “It is not healing.”

His brothers looked at him. “Obviously.”

“I believe we might have to stay here for another few days,” Elladan turned towards Elrohir. “You could take the boy to Osgiliath yourself. When you return, our little brother should be better. We can then drag him across the rest of Ithilien till we reach the crossing by Cair Andros.”

Aragorn looked on in frustration. “It is only a small wound.”

“Poisoned and infected.”

“But I have no fever,” Aragorn protested.

“Estel, you are a healer yourself. Look at it. It is swollen and red. It is infected.”

“Then, we wash it out again, pour some more athelas on it, and re-bandage it. I am not staying here another day.”

“We will do as you suggest. If the wound looks no better, in the morning, Elrohir will take Faramir to Osgiliath and you and I, dear brother, will stay here another day.”

~*~

A/N – on the stars and Tolkien - http://www.physics.ccsu.edu/larsen/astronomy_of_middle.htm





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