_____________________________________________________________
Faramir, the Steward of Gondor, stood on a mountain ledge
looking towards the East. Darkness had fallen on the Misty Mountains and
the wild land beyond it, and the stars were beginning to peak out of the
nighttime sky. The temperature in the mountains was deathly cold, even
though it was the peak of summer down in the valleys and plains.
There was a swish of a cloak and Faramir looked to see that Legolas had
appeared beside him. "The stars are bright tonight, especially in the
East," Faramir remarked quietly to the Elf.
"The stars are always brighter in the East, they are still rejoicing over
the fall of Sauron," Legolas said, staring upwards at the vast and clear
sky.
"It is indeed a beautiful night," Faramir said breathing in the fresh
mountain air. His heart was at ease as he stared out over the land. His
gaze had turned towards the South, when he saw something peculiar: It was
a black spike that glimmered in the star's light. "What is that Dark
Tower, near the Gap of Rohan?" the young Steward asked.
"That is Isengard, or what is left of it," Legolas replied, his blue eyes
still gazing at the sky.
"I did not think that we were that far South," Faramir said, his eyes
still fixed on the tower. Suddenly a searing pain erupted in his head, and
Faramir backed up, crashing into the wall.
"Faramir!" Legolas gasped, running over to the man. "What it is?" the Elf
asked, looking at Faramir with concern in his eyes.
"It was nothing, just a sudden headache," Faramir said, staring at Legolas.
"I am perfectly fine."
"What is going on?" came the tired voice of the Hobbit Pippin, who had
woken up at the sound of Faramir hitting the rock wall.
"It was nothing, Master Hobbit," Legolas said. "Now go back to sleep,
there still are many hours to pass before the sun rises."
"No," Pippin replied. "I am already awake." The Hobbit then reached into
his pocket and pulled out his pipe. He placed some weed into it and began
contentedly puffing on it.
"Hobbits," Legolas murmured. "Faramir, you should rest, I will take the
first watch tonight," The Elf said to the man.
Faramir turned and shook his head, "I will take the first watch," the man
said stubbornly.
Legolas sighed, feeling tired and defeated. He gave one last pleading look
to Faramir, who saw the Elf and shook his head again; stubbornness
mirrored in his grey eyes, then laid down and fell into the world of Elven
dreams.
Faramir, content that Legolas was asleep, moved and sat down on a nearby
rock. He was dreadfully tired, but his mind was too full to fall into the
world of sleep. He knew that it had been no ordinary headache that had
struck him when he had seen the Tower of Orthanc.
He had felt a feeling of foreboding ever since the three friends had
decided to come the long way through the Misty Mountains. Legolas and
Faramir had left from the City of Minas Tirith some six weeks before, on a
journey to get and bring Pippin back to White City, for he wished to see
it once more before he died. Since age had been hindering the middle-aged
Hobbit, Aragorn had thought it was best that his friends see him safely
back inside the walls of the White City.
Faramir turned and looked back at the Hobbit, who had abandoned his pipe
weed and was sitting against the wall of the cropping of rocks they were
camping on. The Hobbit, feeling Faramir's gaze turned and smiled at the
man of Gondor.
"Master Hobbit, you should be resting, it shall be a long day tomorrow,"
Faramir said softly to the Hobbit.
"No, I am quite rested, I assure you. I was sleeping on Hayles' back while
we rode," Pippin said, referring to his pony. Hayles, whose name in the
common tongue, meant fire dance, was a steed of Rohan. The copper coloured
pony had been given to Pippin by Eomer, some years before. "How fares your
wife?" Pippin asked of Eowyn.
"She is as strong minded as ever," Faramir replied with a chuckle, then
quickly returned to his grave self. Six weeks away from Eowyn had taken
its toll on the Ranger, for he now thought about his wife every single
hour of the day. He hoped that their ride to return to Gondor would not
take along time.
"Isn't she always strong minded?" Pippin asked with mild amusement.
"Ever since we have moved into Ithilien she has been attempting to remake
it the Garden of Gondor, which is a very hard task, for most of it was
destroyed in the War," Faramir replied, a smile on his features. "Though
she still insists on planting," he added.
Pippin then began laughing loudly with Faramir joining in. Suddenly, an
orange flash of lightning lit up the Southern sky, near the Gap of Rohan.
"What was that?" Pippin asked.
Faramir looked towards were the lightning had struck; his fears were
answered when he saw that the bolt had struck none other than the top of
Orthanc. The young captain sighed inwardly; there defiantly was some evil
at work in ruins of the tower.
"By the Valor, what was that?" Legolas said, waking from his sleep.
"I don't know. Faramir and I were just talking and then poof! A big orange
bolt of lightning struck at the foot of the mountains near the Gap!"
Pippin exclaimed, shock written onto his features.
Legolas stood up and looked down the mountain chain, "Orthanc! Did it
strike at Orthanc?" Legolas asked hurridly.
"Yes, it did," came the wary voice of Faramir. "I have felt a shadow and
threat ever since we came this way," the Steward added, his stormy grey
eyes fixed on the dark tower.
"What do you think it is?" Pippin asked as he stood between Legolas and
Faramir.
"I know not," replied Legolas. "Faramir?" the Elf asked.
Faramir replied softly, though his eyes never moved from the tower. "I
have not seen lightning like that since the dark days of Mordor."
"Then it seems that some forgotten Evil of Mordor has come to Isengard,
we must ride South at dawn to check it," Legolas said flatly.
"No!" cried Faramir, distress shown greatly in his eyes. "We do not know
what it is! We could be killed or worse, captured!"
"He does have a point, Legolas," Pippin added quietly.
"The road will take us by there anyway. We could stop and look around and
if the threat appears too great we will ride to Gondor and alert the
King," Legolas said, giving his plan.
"That is a wise plan, Legolas," Pippin said, smiling. "What do you think
Faramir?" the Hobbit asked the Captain of Gondor.
Faramir turned; about to answer when suddenly his vision went black. He
backed up, backing straight into the darkness. He then saw a figure
beginning to take shape. It was an Elf! The Elf had straight black hair,
his fair face was scarred and mutilated, but what surprised Faramir were
the eyes. They were red as blood and seemed to drip with lust and hate.
Then Faramir saw what the Elf held in his hands, a palantir! The stone
glowed white inside the ball, but reviled nothing. Faramir gasped, as a
pain filled his body. The world was growing darker with each second then
he knew no more.
"Faramir, wake up!" Legolas cried softly to his companion. The man moved
his head slowly and blinked open his eyes, they were grey, as always, but
there was an orange tinge around the pupils. Fear and confusion marred his
fair features as he struggled to remain conscious.
"What happened?" he gasped softly, pain flowing freely throughout his
body.
"You fainted, my friend, and appeared to be having nightmares," Legolas
said softly, his blue eyes filled with concern.
"I saw, I saw someone. Someone evil, I could see it in his eyes. His eyes
were red, and he was an Elf. Black hair, straight as a line, he had a
palantir," Faramir said, frightened, the last part of his sentence being a
mere whisper.
Legolas gasped in surprise, "No, it cannot be!" the Elf thought. He had
heard the stories of this Elf Faramir had described. His name was Alamon
Amounte, an Elf from Mirkwood, who had in the first age sought to study
the arts of sorcery. He had read too much, and his mind had filled with
Evil. He had been banished form the court by Oropher, his grandfather, and
had lived in the valleys of Eriador. He had fought at the side of Sauron
in the Last Alliance. He had been killed in the battle, but like Sauron
his spirit had endured. He seeked to possess people's bodies, using the
their souls for his own will.
Now Legolas feared that the young Steward of Gondor was on the way to
being possessed by this
ancient devilry He sighed again loudly, and turned back to face Faramir. "What is
it?" the Steward asked quietly.
"I am not sure, but I have a guess of what might be ailing you, my
friend," Legolas said softly staring the Steward straight in the eye.
Faramir returned his friend's gaze. "Tell me, I am not one to despair of
evil tidings," the Steward said softly.
"I fear that you are being possessed by an ancient evil," Legolas said
quickly.
There was a loud gasp from Pippin, but Faramir just continued to stare
into his friend's eyes. Legolas had to turn away, for the orange tint in
Faramir's eyes was beginning to spread throughout the grey depths. Faramir
sighed and his head lulled back against the wall. "We attack Isengard in
the morning," Faramir said before falling asleep.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Alamon Amounte stood at the very top of the Tower of Orthanc. In his hand
was the palantir, the source of the life for the evil Elf. His black hair
fanned out behind him as a breeze swept down from the Misty Mountains.
Alamon smiled, not a nice smile, but a wicked hideous evil grin. His plan
had worked, he had successfully invaded the body of the Steward of Gondor,
it would be soon, very soon before everything worked out the way he wanted
it. The black haired Elf's plan had been to invade the Steward; he could
then, with the help of the palantir, return to physical form and invade
all of Gondor until the whole Middle Earth was his!
Though, there was the slight problem of the Elf. Even though Alamon was an
Elf, he despised the race. He despised Legolas especially, for he was
Orophin's grandchild. He grimaced at the thought of Legolas, he knew that
Elf could and would ruin his plan. The Elf had already told the man what
was happening, so now the Steward was fully aware and ready to reject him
when it was time.
He had to admit, though, that he was lucky that Faramir had decided to
come to Orthanc the next morn. He knew the Steward was ready to fight to
his death to destroy the Elf that was threatening to take over him.
There was also that slight flaw to his plan; Faramir was a noble man,
brave and gallant, yet gently in bearing. He would not so easily allow an
evil spirit into his mind. As quickly as that thought entered his mind, a
plan hatched out of it. He would take the Steward and the Elf captive,
torture the Elf till he died, for the pure fun of long kept up revenge and
torture the man till he begged for him to enter his mind and relieve him
of the pain.
Alamon smiled wickedly and began to descend down the stairs of Orthanc,
the palantir still in his hands. There was one thing though that Alamon
did not know; there was a Halfling in the presence of Man and Elf.
|
|
Chapter 2 - The Shadow of
Isenguard Faramir struggled to
untie the course ropes that bound his hands together. He was laying a hard
marble floor, in a room that was most likely very high off the ground. The
young Steward gritted his teeth in pain as his swollen back brushed up
against a wall of cold, jagged stone.
The sound of light footsteps in the hallway caused Faramir to cease his
struggling. “Steward of Gondor, I am delighted to meet you.” A voice said
that was positively dripping with mock authority.
Faramir turned so that he could see the speaker, and gasped when he saw
that he was staring into the pale face of the Elf he had seen in his
vision. “What do you want?” Faramir asked in a quite, but deadly voice.
“Nothing much,” the Elf replied, his red eyes glinting.
Faramir stared squarely back at the Elf, his eyes resting on the palantir.
The dark globe was clutched securely in the left hand of his captor. It
was glowing the colour of dark blood and cast light throughout the dark
room.
The Elf threw his head back and laughed, not a good natured laugh, but a
horrible mirthless laugh that echoed throughout the tower. Faramir winced
and closed his eyes, trying to block out the sound. “Your answer will come
in some time,” the Elf said, then he stooped down and with his free hand
grabbed Faramir by his shoulders.
He pushed the Man hard against wall and Faramir’s body screamed in agony
as his back, covered in welts from whip lashes, came in contact with the
wall. Faramir clenched his teeth together to fight back the scream that
was rapidly building in his throat. He managed, through all the pain and
agony, to make one word, “Never.”
________________________________________________________________________
Faramir woke with a start. He had been dreaming, he was sure of it. Though
his dream had been so real, he had felt the pain and had heard the voice
of the Elf. He glanced out over the horizon, which was now reflecting the
hues of the morning sunrise. Suddenly all of his feelings of fear and
shadow left him as he took in the light of a new day.
Legolas, seeing that Faramir had awoken walked over towards his friend and
sat down next to him. “Have you slept well, Son of Gondor?” He asked in a
quiet voice.
Faramir turned and looked at his Elven companion. Legolas gasped as
Faramir’s grey eyes made contact with Legolas’s. The orange tinge that had
been forming around the pupils last night had now spread throughout both
of his eyes. “Not as well as I would have liked to,” Faramir said softly,
“my sleep has been plagued by strange dreams.” After he said this he bowed
his head against his chest, concealing whatever emotions he had.
Legolas stared as concern spread across his fair features. “What type of
dreams?”
Faramir spoke, but did not look up, “dreams of what I fear is going to
come to pass.”
Legolas slowly lifted Faramir’s head and forced Faramir to stare into his
eyes. “Tell me,” Legolas said softly.
Faramir hesitated a moment before retelling his dream. Legolas remained
silent throughout the telling of the story, but he couldn’t help but feel
as if every second they spent idling here on this mountain, Alamon was
diving deeper into Faramir’s soul. The part that bothered Legolas the most
was that Faramir was describing Alamon in physical form, something that
none of the tales had described before.
When Faramir was finished Legolas quickly aroused Pippin. Their meager
breakfast was eaten, and then they saddled their horses and began riding
towards Isenguard.
________________________________________________________________________
The Road to Orthanc was not a long one and it was close to midday when
they rode over a hill and looked down into what was called the Ring of
Fire in the Third Age. It had been many years since the flooding of
Isenguard, and the grounds of the great tower were now covered in a dense
forest, much like the ones of Fangorn, which bordered the land.
“Isenguard,” Legolas said as he gazed down into the valley. ‘There is
something evil at work here.’
Beside Legolas, Faramir suddenly tensed. He sensed that something was
strange at work also. He did not like this place at all, even though
supposedly all the evil had been washed away, he could still feel that
some lingered. “Do we attack?” Faramir asked, in a slightly nervous voice.
“Attack? That would be a most unwise decision!” Legolas said.
“What do we do then?” Pippin asked as he reined his pony to stand beside
Legolas’s.
“Here is the plan, Faramir and I will go down and search through the
forest. Pippin, you will stay here, incase anything goes amiss,” Legolas
said, revealing his plan.
Faramir nodded in approval and Pippin followed suit. Legolas then
whispered a few words in Elvish to his horse that then sprung away at a
full gallop down the hill. Faramir then turned to Pippin, “If anything
should go wrong, ride to Gondor,” he said before giving a sharp tap to his
horse’s side.
Pippin watched the two gallop down the hill and when they were safely out
of site he walked Hayles over to a tree and lay down in the shade. He
leaned his back against the sturdy tree trunk and lit his pipe.
________________________________________________________________________
‘The air is so close in here.’ Faramir gasped. The two companions had been
riding through the dense forest for several hours, it seemed, but Faramir
could not tell, for he had lost all sense of the time. The sun did not
often show down through the trees, and it seemed as if there was no light
at all.
The forest around them seemed to be holding its breath, as the two
travelers made their way through. The path, or what they thought was the
path, was impossible to follow, for it was overgrown. The horses were
forced to step over numerous amounts of large roots that spread their
across the path and the forest floor. They had not seen any sign of life,
or any sound of the River Isen which flowed now through Isenguard.
“This forest, it makes no sound, no voices from the trees.” Legolas said
softly, and it seemed to Faramir that the Elf, 3000 years his elder was
for once, left without an answer.
“Listen!” Faramir said sharply and quietly. He was sure he had heard
something just then, it had been a rustling maybe far away, but still it
was noise.
Legolas slowed his horse to a stop and listened for any sound, when none
came Legolas turned to Faramir and spoke, “I hear nothing.”
Faramir turned towards Legolas, “I was sure that I heard something, over
there, towards the East, I think!” Faramir said as his voice dropped to a
mere whisper.
The two turned their horses to the direction of what they thought was the
East. This was, however, a most unwise move because the second they did it
a band of Orcs and Goblins jumped out from the shadows of the forest.
Legolas, who was caught unaware, had little time to prepare for the
battle. He jumped off of his horse and pulled his Elven daggers from their
sheath and began taking down the Orcs.
Faramir, who had been anticipating a battle all along, turned and jumped
down from his horse, his sword held steadily in his hand. He pulled it up
over his head and brought it down, quickly ending the life of several of
his attackers.
The battle waged on, and the pile of Orcs and Goblins before Faramir’s
feet grew larger. The young Steward was quickly growing tired as the
number of attacking Orcs grew larger. They just kept appearing from the
shadows of the forest! Faramir threw his sword into on of his attackers
when he saw out of the corner of his eye, Legolas fall.
Faramir quickly pulled the sword out of the chest of the Orc and began
pushing his way over towards his friend. When he reached the Elf he was
relieved to find that the Elf had been merely hit on the side of the head
with the side of a sword. He looked up at the group of Orcs which had
ceased fighting.
Suddenly, the crowd of Orcs parted and someone walked through. “Bind him.”
The person barked. Faramir struggled to see who it was, but whoever it
was, was still hidden in the shadows.
Several Orcs ran up behind Faramir, one snatched his sword out of his hand
and cast it out into the forest while the others forced both of his hands
behind his back. They were quickly bound together with what looked like a
long black rope. It had been twisted in a cruel manour and its coarseness
bit into his skin.
Once the Orcs had finished tying his bonds they grasped him firmly by the
shoulders and pushed him forward. He was pushed several hundred yards
before they halted him. Faramir was then forced down on his knees before
someone. When he looked up he saw that he was staring into the face of
Alamon, the Elf that had been in his visions and dreams.
“Welcome to Isenguard, Faramir, Steward of Gondor,” the Elf said, giving a
mock bow. This action caused the surrounding Orcs to howl with laughter.
“I am glad that we have finally met.”
Alamon the turned to the Orcs, “get him up!” He barked. Faramir was then
pulled up so that he stood facing Alamon. Faramir and the Elf stood at
about the same height, but it seemed to Faramir that Alamon was a great
deal taller than he appeared.
“Have anything to say, Steward?” He asked. Faramir said nothing, but
remained staring at Alamon, determination mirrored on his features.
Alamon then gave another mock bow, arousing more laughter from the Orcs.
“I am sorry, Steward, I guess it is wrong for an Elf such as me to address
one of such high authority. Though you seemed to get along with that Elf
alright,” Alamon said nodding over towards were Legolas now stood, awake,
in the hands of the Orcs.
Anger was rising inside Faramir like never before; he hated the way Alamon
talked to him. Then in a show of anger Faramir gave a tremendous kick at
Alamon. His shod foot came in contact with the Elf’s stomach and sent him
flying back several yards. A grin began spreading across Faramir’s face
and before he could realize what he was doing he began chuckling. Not a
regular good natured chuckle but a horrible evil one.
Alamon, now winded from the blow, was walking over towards were Faramir
stood. In his left hand was the palantir, as usual, and in his right was a
pair of shackles. He bent down, pulled Faramir’s boots off, and clipped
them around Faramir’s feet. He then stood up again to face Faramir. “Found
that funny, did you?” He asked.
Faramir said nothing, having now fought down the anger, and returning to
his usual quiet self. Alamon, still angry at Faramir’s attitude, turned to
Orcs and barked several orders to them in the black tongue of Mordor. The
Orcs then grabbed Faramir again by the shoulders and forced him to begin a
brisk walk. Faramir stumbled, for the chains on his ankles would not allow
him to take a full stride.
________________________________________________________________________
Legolas swayed again in the hands of Orcs, his head was throbbing with
each beat his heart took. His vision, once again, swam before his eyes as
unconsciousness threatened to take over. He cursed himself for allowing
Faramir and himself to be captured. He should have known that there was an
attack coming; Faramir obviously saw it plain enough.
The Orcs had not bound him as they had done to Faramir. He was merely
pushed along by the Orcs that walked close beside him. Events were
swimming across his mind, the one most dominant of all being Faramir
kicking Alamon. Faramir was not usually a violent man, and never had shown
his anger like that before.
He knew that Faramir had made a big mistake in kicking the Elf, even
though the man might not have realized it. He knew that it would just lead
to the harsher treatment of his friend.
The Orcs pushed Legolas faster, causing the Elf to begin jogging up the
path which now lead out of the forest and onto a dirt road. He looked up
towards the front of the group; he could see Alamon and Faramir clearly.
Faramir was struggling against the tight hold of the Orcs that held him.
Legolas was moved up towards to front till he stood across from Faramir.
The Man’s eyes were blazing with an unseen fire as he stood staring at
Alamon. Alamon then walked into the center of the now formed circle and
began talking, ‘the time of Men is over, the time of the Orc has come!’ He
yelled. The Orcs then began cheering, and Alamon raised a hand to silence
them. “It will be soon! Once I have regained physical form I will be
unstoppable. Once that has happened we will begin reclaiming the West that
should have been ours to begin with!”
The Orcs were cheering louder now and Alamon now walked and stood beside
Faramir. “Gondor, long have they been the enemies of the creatures of
Middle Earth! The King cares about nothing, save for the people! He does
not care if a race such as the Orcs die! We shall change it and begin with
this one,” Alamon said smiling at Faramir.
Faramir’s eyes were now ablaze with a wildfire that it seemed could not be
stopped. He was staring at Alamon with such hatred that Legolas was
surprised that the Elf did not back way. Instead Alamon whispered into
Faramir’s ear, “You can ease your pain if you cooperate.”
“You will not have my soul!” Faramir snarled at Alamon. He then leaned
back and thrust his hands into the Orc behind him. The Orc was thrown
backwards and fell into a particularly large thorn bush.
Alamon turned to Faramir. “You are not going to make this easy, Little
Steward,” the Elf said before spinning on his heel and walking up the
steps into the tower of Orthanc.
Once the Elf had disappeared into the shadows of the great tower, the Orcs
immediately began attack the helpless Steward. Several blows landed on his
back, and Faramir winced in pain. This just caused several more to come.
Then he was attacked by what seemed like the leader, who began to begin
rapidly striking his back with a wooden club. Faramir felt his knees
buckle and he fell to the ground, his eyes shut tight against the pain,
though this just caused him to be tortured more.
________________________________________________________________________
All this while, Legolas stood, firmly held, in the hands of the Orcs. His
head was turned, the pain being almost too unbearable. He could not stand
to watch Faramir be beaten before his waking eyes, it was far too painful.
Faramir did not deserve this to be happening to him, he was a man of great
courage and nobility. A man who had stood against his father’s wrath, led
an ill fated suicide mission, and escaped death.
Yet this world they lived in was unfair, so very unfair. A world were ‘the
ones that lived deserved death and the ones that died deserved life.’
Legolas felt himself being pushed forward, the Orcs were moving him again,
and he suddenly became aware that he was standing next to Faramir. The
young Steward’s eyes held a defeated look, one of which was darkened by a
blow. A slow trickle of blood fell from his brow and splattered across his
face.
Legolas cringed; he felt the guilt that was building up inside of him for
letting his friend suffer. But Faramir’s eyes did not speak of remorse or
anger; they were filled, instead, with pain and a plea for succour.
Legolas wished that he could do something to aid his friend, but the only
words that left his mouth were, “Faramir, I’m so sorry.”
Faramir shifted uncomfortably, and Legolas looked down and tried not to
wince when he saw the metal chains around his friend’s ankles. Faramir,
however, was gazing up at the clear blue sky, shaking the sandy locks of
hair off his dirty and bloody face. The crystal blue sky reflected off of
the young man’s eyes, making his eyes take on an unearthly glow.
The two had now entered the shadow of the Tower of Orthanc, the black
marble stood out against clear sky. The steps, once used by Saruman, were
looming closer before them. Legolas felt Faramir stop, and the Elf turned
to see that the Steward of Gondor was hesitating. The steps were tall and
steep, a deadly climb for someone in his position.
Legolas placed a helping hand on his friend’s shoulder, and encouraged him
to begin the climb. Faramir gingerly stepped on, shaking slightly as he
tried to remained balance. The Orcs had ceased walking and stood huddled
at the steps of the tower.
“If he falls down, he’s ours!” One of the Orcs sneered.
Faramir visibly shook at the word’s of the Orc and began picking up the
pace, taking the steps at a faster pace. Legolas began sprinting up the
stairs after his friend, trying to stop him before he missteped and fell
to his death.
He reached out his hand, desperate to grab onto the young man. He was
astonished when his hand made contact with the ropes binding his hands.
Legolas recoiled immediately, his hand stinging with the bitter coarseness
of the rope. He looked down at his hand; it was coated with blood, some
from his own hand but the other from Faramir. “The monsters,” Legolas
sneered.
Faramir turned, his piercing gaze landing on Legolas. Even though he could
not clearly see the pain on the man’s features, he knew that his friend
was suffering and it pained Legolas deeper than any torture they could
inflict on him.
“Do not worry about me, Legolas,” Faramir said softly, his grey eyes full
of sorrow.
Legolas stubbornly refused, “Faramir, you cannot....you cannot let them do
this to you!”
Faramir shook his head before turning around and making his way back up
the stairs.
________________________________________________________________________
They had been climbing for a long time, or so it seemed to Legolas. His
back was aching from constantly bending forward to make the climb. They
were nearing one of the great doors of Orthanc, he could see it clearly
now.
Faramir’s pace had slowed so he was climbing steadily beside Legolas. The
Elf could not see the young Steward clearly, for his head was bent
forward, his hair hiding his face. He could clearly hear, however, the
man’s short, gasping breaths.
The last few steps of the dreadful climb were nearing, but suddenly
Faramir stumbled, and he began falling. Legolas reached out a hand to
steady him as the young man began plummeting back down the steps.
Faramir’s body snapped like deadweight against his outstretched arm, and
Legolas was dragged down several feet. He steadied Faramir, who was now
leaning heavily against his arm, gasping for breath.
“What happened?” Faramir asked, his grey eyes franticly searching the
area.
“You fell, my friend,” Legolas replied slowly.
Faramir blinked several times, “how did I get up here?” He asked.
Legolas looked down at Faramir; the young Steward seemed to have no clue
at his location, even though the two had been climbing together for a long
time. “What do you remember last?” Legolas asked.
“An attack in the woods, Alamon,” he shifted, “how did I get?” The man
asked, referring to this bound hands and feet, both of which were now
covered in blood.
Legolas looked down at Faramir, his mind racing with thoughts. “The
poison, it is deepening its hold on him!” Legolas thought frantically.
Then an image formed in the Elf’s head, it was Pippin, the one Hobbit who
could save them...
________________________________________________________________________
Pippin woke with a start, he swore that he had just been dreaming, but the
dream it had been so real. He remembered that he had been sitting in a
dark room; there had been no light, save for a small glass ball that was
shimmering with orange and red light.
“Come here, Little Hobbit,” the voice had said, and Pippin shivered,
remembering the evil that the voice contained.
Pippin didn’t answer; he who had looked through the Palantir at Sauron,
this voice shouldn’t be scaring him!
“You are only going to make this worse for your friends,” the unearthly
voice said again.
Pippin now saw an image of Faramir; the Steward was corner up against a
wall, his body weak and shaking from exhaustion. Both of his hands were
bound, as were his feet, he had no means of escaping from the evil.
A dark shadow was rapidly growing in front of the man, and Faramir turned
away at the shadow’s evil presence. The shadow however, had now taken the
form of a man, no, an Elf! Though Pippin could only see the backside of
this creature, he knew that it was evil, very evil.
The Elf walked over to Faramir, who was now shaking violently, he slowly
said some words, in a tongue that Pippin didn’t know. Faramir shook his
head violently, as if in defiance to the evil words.
The Elf, in return, hit Faramir roughly on this side of his face. The blow
sent Faramir staggering back into the wall, blood splattering down the
side of his face.
The Elf laughed a sudden mirthless laugh that filled all the caverns of
Pippin’s mind.
Pippin shivered again in the cool night air, his friends had been gone for
quite some time, and the young Hobbit feared the worse. There was a
feeling of evil lingering in the quietness of the night, and Pippin feared
it. He feared for his friends, who were walking right into the shadow of
Isenguard.
He then remembered Faramir’s words before he had rode away, “if anything
goes amiss, ride to Gondor.”
Pippin stood up and hopped on the back of Hayles, and whispered softly to
the pony of Rohan, “Ride to Minas Tirith!”
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