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Fairborn (PG) Print

Written by Paul Price

26 August 2011 | 24652 words

Title: Fairborn
Author: Paul Price
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Faramir

This is a sixteen chapter short novel detailing curious events and various adventures in the twentieth year of Faramir and Eowyn’s marriage. The adventures and events concern them, their children, their friends, the countries of Gondor, Rohan, Dunland, and Harad, and enemies they did not know they had.


[ all pages ]

Chapter 7: Ramah and Timah

Prince Ramah was angry as he met the Harad army retreating from Ithilien. He had expected an easy victory, but it had not occurred. His spies had indicated that Ithilien was lightly defended, and that Gondor, as a whole, had many problems. He had staked much of his reputation on a quick victory in Ithilien. His brother, the Sultan, was reluctant to incur the hostility of Gondor, as were most of the noble families of Harad. Ramah had convinced his brother that they could send a small army, stiffened by some guard troops, to demonstrate the weakness of both Ithilien and Gondor. Then, they could fan old animosities to raise a larger army from the reluctant Haradrim nobility. If the small army was defeated, then the Sultan would disclaim any knowledge of the action and execute those that he would blame for the incident.

Ramah was aware of the large Gondorian and Rohirrim commitments to the war in Dunland. Additionally, he knew of the earthquake in Dol Amroth, the orc raids in Rohan and Ithilien, and the Corsair raids on the Gondorian coasts. In fact, he had encouraged the Corsair and orc raids as part of his plan. He had been contacted by the Brown Wizard, who had indicated that he could make the orc raids happen. He was unsure of whom that person was, but the man had delivered the raids, as promised. He knew from his research (or rather, his servants’ research) that this wizard was not Radagast the Brown; however, the man had delivered what he promised. Additionally, Ramah had influence with the leaders at Umbar, who also delivered corsair raids as promised.

It was the Haradrim who had not delivered. He had wanted his best captain, Captain Timah, to lead the Harad raid, but the Sultan had insisted on one of the royal cronies leading the force. If Captain Timah had not brilliantly led the rearguard action, then the entire force might have been lost. Fortunately, the Sultan’s stooge general, Thah, had been killed in the battle. Further, reports were that he had been killed by a woman. This was beyond belief. Had the Ithiliens been reduced to putting women and children in their battlelines? He could not understand this lost opportunity.

He called for a meeting with Captain Timah and he found that his favored Captain had been wounded in the battle.

“What brought such misfortune on you and your army?” He asked Timah.

“Three things.” Timah replied, “The incompetence and vanity of Thah, the presence of Rohirrim cavalry, and the skill of the Ithilien she-demon.”

“What foolishness is this?” Shouted Ramah, “Rohirrim and she-demons?”

“Never the less, they had a unit of Rohirrim on each flank, and one was lead by a she-demon. She killed Thah, wounded me, and turned the battle in their favor by maneuvering her troops skillfully.”

“How could this be?” Questioned Ramah, “Who was she?”

“We captured some of her troops, and they called her the Daughter of Dernhelm. They said she was the daughter of the Dernhelm who killed the Witch-King twenty years ago, beyond that I do not know more.” Said Timah.

“Killed the Witch-King! I do not understand how these things can be, but I trust you. Something quite unexpected occurred. I will need to know more before I make further plans and take further actions.” Ramah said, “And take further risks.” He thought.

He mused on the way back to his fortress. Twenty years ago, the largest Harad army ever assembled had gone to Gondor at the orders of Sauron, and had never come back. His father had led that army, and was never buried with the honored dead Sultans of Harad. He knew that Sauron’s entire army in Gondor was led by the Witch-King, who had not been seen since. The Haradrim considered the Witch-King invulnerable to any man; however, if he had been killed by a demon, then it would explain much. Who knew what foul magics had been used on his father and his father’s army? The Gondorean devils should pay for their use of evil wizardry.

In Minas Tirith, Faramir had received news of the Ithilien victory, and of his new Thanes’ roles in the victory. He was pleased, and was relieved that his trust had not been misplaced. He also heard that Éowyn was on the way to Dol Amroth along with Ganwyn and two rangers. However, by the time he had received the message, she had already stopped in Minas Tirith to see him. He talked her into staying with him for the night, and then continuing to Dol Amroth the next morning.

He kissed her and said. “I’m pleased that you’re here, Fairborn. I missed you much.”

“We’ve only been apart two days.”

“It seemed longer. Are you sure it was only two days?”

“Quite sure. However, I missed you too.”

They entered the Steward’s Room, which Faramir used when in Minas Tirith. It was a large room in the Steward’s Tower with a very large, ornate, wooden table, a large fireplace, several chairs, and a library. The library included some of the newest and most detailed maps of Gondor.

“I always liked this room,” Said Éowyn, “the window has such an amazing view of the countryside.”

“I’ve used that view many times to remind me of the importance of my duties.” Said Faramir.

“I’m surprised you need reminding, Fairborn, you’re the most conscientious man I know.”

“Really, I don’t think you ever told me that.”

“I thought you knew. You’re so intuitive, I just assume you know these things.”

“My intuition does not work well on those I love.”

They moved toward the attached bedroom. They had spent their honeymoon and many days in the early years of their marriage there, but had stayed there very few nights in recent years.

“This seems strange,” Said Éowyn “Usually when you’re here, I’m acting for you in Ithilien.”

“Would you like to accompany me here in the future? I would like Elboron to act for me more, and I could use your good counsel here.”

“Good counsel and sex, too, no doubt.”

“What can I say, you’re a multi-faceted jewel.”

“Are you trying to subtly tell me that you want another child?”

“Why would you think that?”

“I’m sure we conceived Theowyn and Elboron here.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Actually, the opposite is true. I know you are a strong, healthy woman, but even a healthy woman can die in childbirth at your age. I told you the other day, I do not want to lose you, and I meant it. I can’t picture my life without you in it.”

“I am relieved by your words. I do not want to lose you, either.”

They kissed, undressed and went to bed.

In another part of the Steward’s Tower of Minas Tirith, Ganwyn slept in a room which her father had ordered prepared for her. She was not used to such luxury. The room was much larger than her room at home, the bed was much larger, and the pillows and mattress much softer. After the excitement of the last few days, she was very tired and fell to sleep quickly. In the room next to her, the two rangers also slept deeply. They felt a lifted burden of responsibility, as the guards of Gondor were now responsible for the safety of Éowyn and Ganwyn.

The pudgy assassin stood looking up at the window in the Steward’s Tower. It was about eighteen feet above him; however, just under the window was a huge boulder which was a remnant of the Great War. It was a boulder thrown by one of Sauron’s siege engines and had been left in place as a reminder of the war. The assassin climbed to the top of the boulder and skillfully threw a wooden grappling hook to catch the window ledge. The grappling hook was cunningly made to make little sound when used. He then tested the rope to make sure it had hooked solidly, and began to climb. As he gained just over half of the distance to the window, he saw a shock of yellow hair appear and disappear, and then a bare arm holding a sword cut the rope to his grappling hook. He tried to throw one of his poison daggers before the rope was cut, as he guessed that the Lady of Ithilien, his target, was cutting the rope. However, nothing worked as he wanted. He fell as he was throwing the dagger, and the dagger went straight up, instead of toward the window. He landed hard upon the boulder, and the breath was knocked from his lungs. As he watched helplessly, the dagger came down on his chest and imbedded in his leather jerkin. He was relieved that it had not cut his skin, but was not yet able to remove it, as he was still recovering from the shock of his painful landing. Then, the unexpected happened. Lady Éowyn haphazardly threw the grappling hook from its window perch, and it landed squarely on the dagger, driving it into the assassin’s chest. He died painfully within minutes. About an hour later, a figure in a brown cloak pulled the assassin’s corpse from the top of the rock, carried it to a sparsely populated part of the city, and dumped it there. Then, the figure searched the body, and reclaimed the payment which she had made days before, two poison daggers.

In the midst of the night, Faramir suddenly awakened. He realized that Éowyn was not in the bedroom, and quickly went to the bedroom door. As he opened the door, he was awed at the sight. There was Éowyn, unclothed, looking out the Steward’s Room window with Herugrim in her hand, and its scabbard on the floor at her feet. The moonlight made her skin look alabaster, and softened the yellow of her hair, including the long braid down her back. The moonlight glinted off the blade of the sword and the green jewels in its scabbard. It was a sight he would remember the rest of his life. However, there was more. She wore a look he had not seen before, a strange pensive look. In their twenty years of marriage, he had seen her in many moods, but this was unknown to him. He mentally debated whether to interrupt her reverie, and decided he had to know her thoughts.

“Fairborn, why are you out here in the cool night air naked with your sword drawn?” He asked, softly.

She replied, “I thought I heard something. I have been nervous since that assassination attempt. It bothers me that someone wanted me dead, and that I had to kill that man to stay alive. I want to heal people, not kill them.”

“You had no choice. You have a right to live, and he was trying to take your life from you.” He was trying to comfort her, as he knew she was deeply hurt. He had killed men in war, and knew the emotional aftermath that could occur. It bothered him that he could not immediately remove her pain. They went back to the bed, and consoled each other until sleep came.

The next morning, the Ithilien foursome continued their trip to Dol Amroth.

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