Chapter 23. Haste to Strike, Oh Longed for Hour

'Here's the first farm!' Fastred called, waving an arm in the air.

The Thain nodded, and the group turned in at the farm lane. The farmer came out to meet them, overwhelmed at the sight of a coach accompanied by a large party of mounted hobbits riding up to his door.

'May I help you gentlehobbits?' he called.

'We've come to return your ponies, and to pick up the ones we left here, with thanks,' the Thain answered.

The farmer straightened then, recognising the Thain. 'It was my honour to be of assistance, Sir,' he answered, and raised his voice to call his sons. 'Tad! Tam!'

Hilly and Tolly had already jumped down from their ponies and were removing the saddles. The farmer instructed his sons to catch the ponies they'd left off on the swift journey from the Tookland, and he slipped halters on his own ponies and led them to the barn.

While they were waiting for the exchange to be finished, the farmer's wife warmed Regi's bricks in her oven, and provided fresh coals for the foot-warmers. She also managed mugs of tea for all her guests, and fruit tarts she'd baked for her own family's second breakfast.

'How're you faring, Reg?' the Thain asked, sticking his head in at the coach. The steward looked pale, to his eyes.

'I'm fine,' Reginard said. 'Well padded, hardly feel the motion of the coach, might be in my own bed at home, and all that sort of thing.'

Pippin looked at him sharply; he was rambling, not usual for him.

'I gave him something,' Leotred said quietly. 'He's not entirely with us at the moment.' Regi smiled rather wanly at this, but seemed to have nothing to add.

'I see,' Pippin replied. 'You be sure to wave if we need to stop.'

'We're all right for the time being,' Leotred answered. 'The road will improve when we get closer to Michel Delving. At the moment the best thing to do would be to drive slowly.'

The Thain nodded. After making sure that Rose and her daughters were comfortable, he withdrew his head and closed up the coach again. At his nod, Ferdibrand pressed a small bag of coins into the farmer's hand, against the latter's protest, 'For your trouble,' he said.

They proceeded more slowly to the next farm, where they again exhanged ponies. At this farm they again re-warmed Regi's bricks, renewed the coals in the foot-warmers, accepted the warming mugs of tea and hot food pressed upon them by the farmer's wife, and left a bag of coins in the farmer's hand.

The road for the last stretch, between farm and Michel Delving, was smoother and they were able to quicken their pace. As the bright faces of the White Downs came into sight, taking on a pink hue in the light of the westering Sun, Leotred waved from the coach. Pippin instantly called a halt, and opening the door, said, 'What is it?'

'If we could stop now, it would be a good thing,' the healer's apprentice said, worried.

The Thain looked about them--not even a farmstead in view--and shook his head.

'Well, then, let us drop to a walk, if we may, Sir? Lessen the motion as much as may be.'

Pippin took a good look at the steward, pale and limp on his makeshift bed, while Elanor sponged his face.

'Is he bleeding inside?' Pippin asked quietly.

'No, I don't think so,' Leotred answered, 'but he is very tired.'

The Thain nodded. 'We shall proceed at a walk,' he said. 'We will stop if we absolutely must, but he might be more comfortable in a proper bed... and the White Downs are within sight.'

They stopped long enough to have a meal out of the hampers, then the riders mounted again and they walked on.

When they reached the outskirts of Michel Delving, Ferdibrand kicked his pony into a trot, motioning to Fastred to accompany him. Full dark had fallen, and they trotted through the darkened streets, past the windows filled with welcoming light, to the inn, where Ferdi swung down and tossed his reins to Fastred. 'Stable them,' he said, 'and join me inside.'

Once inside, Fastred heard the last of the arrangements the chancellor was making with the innkeeper. 'Yes, Sir, right away, Sir,' the innkeeper kept repeating with a series of bows.

Ferdibrand loosened his cloak as the innkeeper began to shout instructions for rooms to be made up and hot food and, 'Ned, where are you? Run and fetch the healer at once, d'you hear?'

'And warm the beds!' Ferdi put in, pulling off his gloves.

The innkeeper nodded, his stream of orders continuing, as Ferdi guided Fastred into the common room. 'Something hot,' he said to the serving lass, 'and be quick about it, if you please.' Within a moment, two steaming mugs were in their hands.

'There, gulp that down, lad, and then watch for the coach whilst I see to the rooms,' Ferdi said, draining his own mug while Fastred was still sipping cautiously at his.

Fastred complied, burning his tongue, but the warmth went down and went a long way to dispel the chill of the long, slow walk in the icy wind. Ferdi was instructing the serving lass to have more mugs of hot drink ready when the coach came in, and then he disappeared with the innkeeper.

Fastred greeted the arriving healer, who looked him up and down with a professional eye.

'What seems to be the trouble?' the old hobbit asked.

'Trouble's on its way,' Fastred answered. 'As a matter of fact, here it comes, now.' The coach was just turning into the yard.

'Good,' said Ferdi's voice at his elbow. 'Regi's room's all ready, bed's warming as we speak.' He strode out into the yard, jerked open the door to the coach, and helped Rose, then Elanor, then Rosie-lass from the coach. By then the other riders had dismounted. Ferdi stepped into the coach, helped Leotred pick up Reginard between them, blankets and all. They handed him out to the waiting Pippin, Frodo, Sam, and Fastred, who followed the innkeeper to the room with its warm bed, the healer falling in behind.

They laid Regi down and the healer commenced his examination, stopping short when he'd opened the shirt, to see the healing wounds. 'Is this a trick?' he demanded. 'No one could survive such injuries!'

'He did,' Pippin said quietly. 'But we're worried that the coach ride might have shaken something loose. Is he bleeding inside?'

The healer humphed and muttered to himself as he continued his examination, but when he straightened up, he said, 'No, I don't detect any signs of bleeding. He seems to be completely exhausted, which doesn't surprise me. What does surprise me is that he is alive at all.'

'What about food?' the Thain pressed.

The healer considered. 'Broth,' he finally answered. 'To be on the safe side.'

'Won't Regi be pleased to hear that?' Ferdi muttered behind his hand to Tolly.

Hilly snorted.

Ferdi stepped forward then, to say, 'I'll watch with him for now. The rest of you, get some hot food into you.' He glared at the Thain, adding, 'Diamond'll have my hide if you take a chill.'

'We cannot have that,' Pippin said mildly. 'You've scarcely any hide left, at this late date.'

***

As Ha'anas and Bessime left the garden courtyard, they heard the baying of hounds break out beyond the walls.

Bessime stiffened, tears coming to her eyes. 'Jessamin,' she whispered.

'We shall see,' the interpreter said. Cautiously, they made their way to the city wall. They were on the opposite side of the city from the great invading army, and looking over the wall, they saw the wide plain running away to the south. They could see figures, doll-like at that distance, fleeing across the open ground in the pre-dawn light, and behind them, guards holding vicious canines that leapt and strove to free themselves from the chains that kept them in check.

'No women,' Ha'anas said, 'so your sister is not with them. But I see at least one guard.' He stared after the running figures. 'Ha'aran?'

'If they've taken him, they will be after us next,' Bessime chattered, shaking with fear. 'Perhaps they could not find Jessamin yet.' She clasped her hands to her mouth as the guards loosed the coursers and the deadly race began.

'Don't watch,' Ha'anas whispered, turning her away from the wall. 'Let us make our way to the other side of the city, and watch the washers at work.'

'What is the point?' Bessime sobbed, but she allowed herself to be led away as the first of those condemned were caught and the screams began to float over the plain.

They stole through the city, grateful for every guard that overlooked their passing, although it was necessary several more times for Ha'anas to take Bessime in his arms, to throw his cloak over them both when he thought a guard had been prompted to take a second look.

After what seemed an eternity, they reached the wall overlooking the river and the encamped army. The washers had already reached the shallow spot and were beginning to unpack the baskets.

'What is the use?' Bessime repeated dully. 'They were found, they were found in the night, and...' she gasped as the slaves emptying the baskets tipped out something else, mixed in with the clothing, and small figures began to run away from the river. 'They'll be caught,' she said in an agony of despair as the slaves recovered from their astonishment and began the chase.

'No, wait,' Ha'anas said in excitement. 'Look!'

They saw the end of the chase, the rescue by the tall figure and the short one with the axe, the slaves' retreat and reluctant return to their task, the little ones borne away to safety.

'O,' Bessime let her breath out in a long sigh, as Ha'anas wiped away her tears with a gentle hand. 'O they are saved. Now I may die with a clear conscience, at least.' She looked up at her companion. 'Shall we surrender ourselves to the guards?'

He shook his head. 'There is no hurry,' he said. 'Let us walk in the sunshine, and perhaps share a cool drink. Let death come when it comes, for there is no need to help it along any.'

'You are a very wise man,' Bessime said, stopping to look into his face while her hand lingered in his grasp. 'Have I ever told you how dark and deep your eyes are...?'

***

King Elessar was meeting with his captains when a guardsman entered. 'Beg pardon, Sir, but the Lion's general is asking to meet with you.'

'Now?' Elessar said. 'It's barely dawn.'

'He insists it is urgent, my Lord King,' the guardsman said.

'Show him in, then,' Elessar answered, with a puzzled look at Imrahil.

The prince shrugged. He might be more familiar with the Haradrim than the King of Gondor, but he certainly had no idea why the Lion's general would risk meeting with Elessar, alone.

He was not alone, however.

The prince of Haragost was with him, both of them grim, the prince clearly apprehensive. They entered fully armed, as local custom demanded; even at the feast last night, all had worn their weapons as symbols of their station: warriors, not slaves.

Now the guards stiffened and drew their swords as the general swept his scimitar out, waving it before the king before going to his knees and presenting the hilt to Elessar.

'Take it,' Imrahil hissed. He knew that much of custom. To ignore a weapon so freely presented risked insulting the presenter, resulting in a change of heart on his part and loss of life on the intended recipient's part.

Slowly, Elessar took the weapon in hand.

The general took a deep breath. 'I give my life, a ransom for my people, and for my prince,' he said in careful Westron.

'I do not understand,' Elessar said slowly.

'The Lion... he had your people in his possession,' the general said. 'We knew, his trusted staff knew. We had heard of the Pheriannath, though his son thought those his father purchased for him to be only little creatures, animals for his collection.' He turned his eyes to the prince, then back to Elessar. 'It amused the Lion to keep his son in ignorance.'

The prince broke in impulsively, tears spilling from his eyes, his empty hand held out in entreaty. 'Had I only known, my Lords...'

But the general thrust a restraining hand out, to hold the youth back, and to stop the tumbling words. The prince drew breath to protest, but the two Haradrim locked gazes for a long moment, and then the prince's face fell, and the old general raised his eyes once more to meet Elessar's, and he forged on. 'We knew they were your subjects, and when he ordered them killed, and served to you in the stew...'

Imrahil sucked in his breath, and the weapon in Elessar's hand trembled. There were gasps of horror from the others in the pavilion.

'Please,' the general said, bowing his head again. 'Take my life in payment. Do not destroy our people in your wrath.'

'And mine,' the prince said, dropping to his knees beside the other. 'Take mine, if more payment is needed.'

'No, my liege,' the general gasped, turning the the youth in dismay. 'You must lead them now. Do not throw your life away.'

'Lead them?' Elessar asked, his voice soft, but steel would have been less sharp.

The general raised his eyes to the king's. 'The Lion is dead,' he said. 'The stew... was tainted. All who feasted on it died in the night. Those followers of the Lion, who did not feast, have gone to the dogs in the dawn.'

'A palace coup,' Imrahil whispered. 'A clean sweep?' he asked aloud.

The general looked at him. 'Clean,' he said. His lip curled. 'Too long the filth has been allowed to boil at the top of the pot. We have skimmed away the scum, and I pray that what is left is clean.' He bowed his head again, to await the death stroke.

There was a commotion outside, an outbreak of shouting... an attack?

But no, the soldiers were cheering.

The flap of the pavilion was thrust open again, to admit a grinning guardsman. 'My Lords,' he shouted. 'My Lords, it's the...'

He was interrupted as Legolas entered, carrying two hobbits in each arm, followed by Gimli, bearing three hobbits, Celandine at his side with her babe.

'The Pheriannath,' Imrahil whispered. He looked quizzically at the general, who had once again lifted his head, to gaze at the hobbits, eyes wide with wonder. 'I thought you said...'

'The Maker be praised,' the general said, raising his hands, palms upward. 'They have been restored to us, those we thought irretrievably lost.' He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent prayer.

The prince gave a cry of joy and rose to go to the hobbits.

Gimli stiffened, but Legolas shook his head at him in subtle signal.

'My little ones!' the prince cried, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. He fell to his knees, holding out a hand to Celandine. 'Please forgive, my lady, forgive my not-knowing.'

Though the heavily-accented words were difficult to understand, the hobbit mum grasped his meaning. She bravely extended her hand to meet his, allowed it to be swallowed in his grasp, smiled and said, 'All is well.'

***

From original posting some years ago:

Note to Readers:

"The Law" as used in this story is not meant to resemble any modern system of belief. In other words, I made it up, after thinking about how a society of proud warriors not recognising the beliefs of Numenor might be ordered.

Thank you for the comments! Reviews keep the Muse happy. She whispered quite a long chapter in a traffic jam today, very angsty, I fear, but traffic jams do seem to bring out angst, don't they?

Have written well ahead in this story, and "Flames" as well, so look forward to daily updates for the nonce, unless something happens to interrupt.

I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.

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