WHISPERS OF THE RING
A Rude Awakening
Boromir awoke with cold steel against his throat. He blinked hard, trying to focus on the wielder of the sword, who was most certainly the same man who pressed a foot heavily into his chest."Peace, Éowyn, peace," came the voice of Aragorn, and Boromir shuddered.
For no man was it who held a sword to his throat with expert hand, but Éowyn Lady of Rohan, shield maiden of the Rohirrim, and longtime bane to Boromir's peaceful rule over the Mark. They shared a look of undisguised disgust, unaware of the mirror they presented each to the other: stern and fair-featured, with noble faces and cold eyes, as stubborn with pride as a pair of purebred stallions.
"A fine gift you have brought to me, Thorongil," the Lady said, with neither pleasure nor gratitude.
"That is a name I have not heard in many seasons," Aragorn replied. Boromir glanced to the face of the ranger; he wore the smile of one recalling fond memory. "Aragorn is what they call me most often, in Imladris where I lately dwell. But Thorongil is the name your father last knew me by. No time was I granted to fight with him before he fell to his noble death."
"How noble, to be crushed by one's own faithful steed?" Éowyn looked to Aragorn, but did not lift the pressure of her sword from Boromir's neck. "If he had only let me ride to war with him, he might been spared, and my brother also."
Aragorn looked at her solemnly. "Or death may have claimed you, as well, Lady of Rohan? Who then to lead your people?"
Éowyn's eyes flashed. Her booted foot drove harder into Boromir's chest. "The dog you keep company with would have gladly swallowed the Mark into his bloated Stewardship."
"Has he not tried already, Lady? And have you alone not held your people together against him?"
"A woman cannot rule the Riddermark!" Boromir said with some vehemence, though the blade pressed harder into the flesh of his neck. His face seemed afire, and his hands shook with rage; against his chest the ring seemed molten. "I helped Rohan, when there was none to rule! This fool would cause troubles for those who only wish to aid her! Such is the wisdom of this woman, and you should have her Lord of Rohan?"
The arm of the Lady twitched, and Boromir felt blood flow down into the collar of his shirt, and gather in his hair. The shallow cut stung deeply, but he knew his words stung deeper.
"Yes, you have little use for women, do you not, Boromir of Gondor? Not even for a wife. War and death alone you understand, and greed. I should cut your head from your shoulders, as I should have when I first found you asleep in this strange company."
But Aragorn covered the hand on the hilt of her sword with his own, and with his gentle touch coaxed her to ease the press of the blade into Boromir's skin. "There is a purpose he may serve yet, and the intentions of his heart were good, and are good still. This I believe, Lady, and would ask you to accept this on my honor."
She sheathed her sword, but there was yet hate in her eyes. "What purpose could such a man fulfill other than the purposes of evil?"
"Bandy about such a term not lightly," Legolas the elf said quietly, and Boromir was surprised for his defense. "A servant of Mordor is enemy to us all, and we should hope that few still walk in our midst while Sauron is diminished."
Éowyn looked at the elf with hard eyes. "It does not take a Dark Lord or a shadow on one's heart and mind to do evil. It does not even require one to be a man." Her face grew troubled. "But it is not men that we encountered on our borders, near to Isengard. Surely, this must be why you have come here to Rohan?"
Aragorn looked to her sharply. Legolas's attention was drawn as well. "Not men?"
"Orcs," she said, and she spit the word as if it tasted foul upon her tongue. "You did not know of them?"
For a moment all were silent; it had been believed that the orcs had fallen or withdrawn to hiding with the diminishing of their master.
"That is a dark sign, indeed," Aragorn said grimly. "Saruman had counseled..."
"The Wise were too generous in their assess of Sauron's temporary defeat," Legolas said hotly, and Boromir could hear that this had been old debate between the man and the elf. "Elladan and Elrohir warned that they had seen populations of yrch greater than we had first believed still existed, did they not?"
"Elladan and Elrohir would find the last great population of orcs if it were in the deepest chasm of the earth. Their hate for that race is deep. It is easy to believe the clans they met and killed were a rare example."
"Mithrandir--" Legolas began, but Aragorn cut him off with a gesture of his hand.
"This is an old battle between us, Legolas. Let it rest. It will do us no good to quarrel now."
Éowyn witnessed their tense exchange silently, but now she spoke. "Yea, verily, it will be no good to debate over those now dead. We met four and twenty between us, and none still live; we tracked their lairs and burned them also. But they had the audacity to attempt an ambush of us, Aragorn, and I would say their courage must come from some source."
Aragorn fell silent, and thought on this long; his brow furrowed with worry.
Éowyn's face softened a little. She seemed inclined to reach out to the ranger, but her hand stayed at her side. "When you came to my father in the past, you always held yourself in the service of Gandalf Greyhame. Why now do you come to the Mark, when he has fallen? What other errand have you taken, if not to warn us of the orcs?"
For a moment the strength of Aragorn seemed to waver, reminded of the disappearance of Gandalf. But he straightened, and kingly indeed he grew, full of noble purpose. "The Wise summon a council of the free peoples, in the belief that the One Ring still exists in Middle-Earth, and is not lost to Sauron as Saruman the White once believed."
"And he is the representative of Gondor, and Rohan both?" Éowyn gestured the length of her sword at Boromir. "Or had you planned to pause in Dunharrow to seek out the house of Éorl?" Her eyes revealed that she did not believe he had such intent.
"Fair lady," Aragorn bowed low, "We had not known what had become of you, or of the house of Éorl, so true it is that we only sought out a representative of Gondor. But now that we find you hale, I would have you send a dispatch to Imladris, as quick as you might, so that Rohan would be represented at the council also."
And though the lady's sadness did not seem entirely lifted, a smile graced her gaunt face, and years seemed lifted from her. "Háma!" Behind her, a young soldier dismounted from his horse, and stepped to her side. "Bid him the way to Imladris, Aragorn, and we shall ride out with a small retinue at once."
"Yourself as well?" Aragorn asked with some concern.
"I invite you to deny me, Aragorn son of Arathorn, messenger of the Wise." She lifted her chin, and seemed as proud and noble as Aragorn himself for a moment, immovable. Boromir felt a moment of disgust as Aragorn acceded to her wishes without further question.
After he had drawn a rough path by which Éowyn and her party might make travel to Rivendell, the proud shield maiden thanked him, and mounted her beautiful horse. "I shall tell the Elves of your coming, for certainly on your slow mounts you shall be no match for a hurried party of Rohirrim!"
With those words, the Lady of Rohan parted, accompanied by her men.
"A proud woman, that one," Legolas said.
Aragorn made no reply but turned to Boromir and offered him a hand up. "You peril your life by your past misdeeds against the Lady of Rohan. She is not a woman who forgives easily."
Boromir took the hand without thinking, and was standing before he realized he had. "She is proud beyond her station."
"The Rohirrim do not see her sex, and would follow her as Captain. Does this not speak of her as outstanding among women?"
Boromir merely scowled, and behind him Legolas laughed. "Perhaps your abstinence from the presence of the fairer sex has concealed their worth to you. The Lady of the Wood would show you otherwise, if we were to pass through Lothlórien." And with that he gave a wistful sigh, that caused Aragorn to smile.
"Does not the Lady of the Wood have her Lord?" Boromir asked, but the others wished no more pursuit of the subject.
"To Isengard, then," Legolas said, and Aragorn nodded grimly.
"To Saruman."
----------------
yrch- (pl). orcs.