7. Who Knows How Near is My End?

The ruffians were gone when the search party reached the clearing in the dawning light. Ferdi stopped short in horror at his first sight of the figure bound to the tree with ropes and pinned securely with arrows. 'Regi,' he breathed, and stumbling forward, he tripped over something on the ground. As he started to rise, he put his hand upon the broken bow, carelessly snapped when the ruffians had finished their play, and he cradled it to his breast and wept.

The guardsmen and hobbits cautiously entered the clearing behind him. The trail of paper had stopped short of the woods, and it had taken some work to find their way to the clearing in the darkness, finally to arrive with the dawn.

A guardsman stuck a cautious finger into the ashes of the fire. 'Still warm,' he said to Bergil, who was staring at the steward's body.

'Cut him down,' he gritted. 'Don't just leave him there.' Bowing over Ferdi, he said, 'Are you all right?'

'It wasn't a quick kill,' Ferdi whispered. 'Don't you see the pattern of shots? They used him... for target practice.'

The Shirriff spun away, to lose the contents of his stomach in the nearby bushes, while a guardsman swore under his breath. Mayor Samwise stood, numb with misery and grief, taking in the rest of the clearing. No Rose, no Elanor... and Reginard, dead. Frodo was weeping as Fastred and his brother Leotred walked cautiously about the perimeter, looking for signs of the ruffians' departure, trying to pick up the continuation of the trail, while others from Greenholm stood silently, uncertain.

A guardsman drew his sword, cutting first the ropes that bound the still figure to the tree, but as he touched the first arrow, to yank it loose, a ghost of a moan caused him to jerk his hand away as if burned. 'He's alive!' he said sharply.

'What?' Bergil snapped, springing forward, and Ferdi raised his drooping head.

'I don't know how,' the guardsman said, in wonder and horror, 'but he is.' Looking to two other guardsmen, he said, 'Hold him, don't let him move,' then, taking his razor-edged sword, he slashed sharply downwards, with several hacking strokes severing the arrows between hobbit and tree trunk. Once he was free, the other two lowered the steward gently to the ground.

Ferdi stumbled to Regi's side. 'Regi?' he said softly. 'Regi, do you hear me?'

The steward's eyelids fluttered, and his lips moved. Ferdi bent his ear close, then sat back with an expression of utter despair as a guardsman moved in to begin to deal with the wounds.

'What did he say?' Sam said, moving to his side.

'He said his wife is going to kill him,' Ferdi answered. He looked up at the Mayor. 'He must be dying,' he said brokenly. 'I've not ever heard him make a joke before.'

Sam started to answer, but was arrested by the look on Ferdi's face. 'What is it?' he asked.

Ferdibrand was still looking up, and now he pointed. 'Something golden,' he said. 'In that tree.'

The others followed the pointing finger, to see a glimmer of gold high in the branches. Fastred jumped to the base of the tree and started climbing, followed by his brother, and Frodo, who was calling, 'Rose? Ellie?'

They reached the high branches to find Rose, huddled in the steward's cloak, face pale, eyes wide with shock. She didn't seem to see them, or hear their urgent reassurances, and when Frodo reached for her she shuddered and shrank back, nearly losing her grip on the branch she held.

'Steady,' Leotred said. 'Don't touch her.'

'We've got to get her down,' Frodo said desperately.

'Yes,' Leotred said, 'but let's get her down alive, shall we? I wouldn't want to see her fall from this height.'

'Rosie?' Frodo said again, pleading, but Rose did not move or blink or show any sign of hearing.

'Go down,' Leotred said. 'Please,' he added. To his brother, he said, 'Take him down.'

'Come on, Frodo,' Fastred urged. 'Leotred has a way with wild creatures that have been hurt.'

Frodo wanted to protest, but Fastred put a hand on his arm and nodded encouragingly. 'Let him try,' Fastred said. 'If he fails, you can always climb up again, you, or your father.'

Frodo nodded, began to climb slowly down, followed by Fastred. They reached the ground to find all but three of the guardsmen gone. 'They found the trail,' the Shirriff said. 'Pity the ruffians when the guardsmen catch up with them.' He shook his head, his expression cold and grim. 'At least as much pity as they deserve, anyhow.'

'Who?' Sam asked his son.

'Rosie,' Frodo answered. 'She won't come down.'

'Probably saw it all,' the Shirriff said sadly. He shook his head. 'Monsters,' he added.

Sam looked as if he'd mount the tree himself, but Fastred caught at his arm. 'Give Leot a chance,' he said. 'If we startle her, she might fall. He's good at gentling frightened creatures.'

Sam nodded, looking up. For all he could tell, Fastred's brother was just sitting, keeping Rose company on her high perch. If any words were being said, he couldn't hear them. As he watched, Rose moved closer to the trunk of the tree, hugging it desperately, then Leotred climbed to a nearer branch, just below Rose.

The Mayor gasped as he saw his daughter let go, but the other was ready and caught her, drawing her close, holding to her and to the branch where he perched. Fastred was already climbing quickly before Sam or Frodo could react; he reached his brother, and between the two of them, they were able to climb safely down, lowering Rose between them.

When she reached the ground, she crumpled and would have fallen, but they eased her gently down. 'Rosie,' Sam whispered. 'Rosie-lass, you're safe now.' She did not seem to hear, her eyes still fixed in their horrified stare.

The guardsmen had drawn the arrows from the steward and bound compresses against the wounds, turning him onto his right side to give the uninjured lung on the left room to work. While two of them applied pressure to the wounds on the steward's torso, the third dressed the wounds in his extremities, muttering under his breath all the while.

Fastred left Rose in the hands of her father and brother and went over to Ferdi. 'Will he live?' he asked.

Ferdi shook his head. 'I don't know why he's not already dead,' he said. 'Curse them.' He began to weep again. 'Why didn't they just hang him and be done with it?'

'They were looking for Rose,' Fastred said, with sudden comprehension. 'He must have loosed her and been caught when he went back for Elanor.'

'They obviously didn't find her,' Ferdi said, wiping his sleeve across his nose.

'Must've asked the wrong questions,' Fastred muttered, eyes on the ministering guardsmen.

Ferdi snorted softly. 'Regi wouldn't tell his own mother what's for tea, if he thought she didn't need to know,' he said. His eyes never left the steward.

***

The ruffians had finally given up in frustration, though they'd made the most of their game, shouting with laughter and laying wagers on each shot. At last, the final arrow had been spent, and One-eye rallied his followers.

'Time to go,' he said. 'It'll be dawn, soon. Let's get to the stream, they'll lose our trail there and we'll be on our way to fortune.' He regretted the loss of the other girl, but he still had one golden-haired treasure, and he'd make the most of her.

Bending close, he looked into Elanor's eyes. 'You didn't see which way she went, did you?' he asked softly. She shook her head, her expression that of a wild thing in a trap, and he laughed.

'Don't you worry, my fine beauty, I wouldn't hurt a hair on your head.' My, but she was a looker. He planted a thorough kiss, enjoying her disgust and fear, regretting all the while the need to keep her intact, then raised her to his shoulder, saying, 'Come on! Fortune awaits!'

They walked to the stream and splashed into the shallows, walking along on the stony bed where they'd leave no tracks. After an hour of walking, they reached the boats, and One-eye laid his burden down gently, with a stroke to the cheek and another lingering kiss, for kisses were some satisfaction, at least, and left no mark in passing. 'Ah, lass,' he said. 'Good thing for you that you're worth your weight in gold. You're a sore temptation to an old ruffian like myself.'

'You can always hope the Haradrim change their mind,' Red laughed.

'Right,' said Chase. 'If they happen to poison off this ruler like they did the last one, you can keep her for yourself.'

'But you gotta share,' Red admonished. 'We did a good bit of the work, you know.' The ruffians laughed, coarse, barking laughter that tore at Elanor's nerve.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, wishing for some of her mother's strong lye soap to wash the memory of the ruffian's mouth away. At least they hadn't found Rose. Tears burned her eyelids, but she wouldn't let herself cry. Instead, grimly, she concentrated on her bindings. Not too tight, One-eye had said, Don't want to leave a mark. Maybe it would work against them. It would be useless to throw herself out of the boat; they would only gather her up again, but, perhaps... later... she could throw herself into the Sea... the Sea, which had teased at her feet in her dreams. Now it seemed her only salvation.

A shout interrupted her concentration on her wrists, and suddenly she heard cries of alarm and a thunderous splashing. She raised her head enough to see great dark horses galloping along in the shallows of the stream, black figures on their backs with gleaming swords at the ready, and for a moment she thought of Frodo Baggins at the Ford of the Bruinen, pursued by the terrible Black Riders.

No flood came down upon the riders, this time, rather, the swords flashed, clubs and knives being no match for them, and the waters of the stream turned red with the blood of ruffians.

Elanor whimpered as large, powerful hands lifted her from the bottom of the boat where One-eye had shoved her as the riders attacked, only to hear a familiar voice, soothing, as her bonds were cut to free her hands and feet.

'It's all right, Ellie, you're safe now,' Bergil crooned, holding her close to his heart. She gave a great gasping breath, and then, relaxing against him, began to sob, finally letting fall the tears she'd held in check through the long night and half the following day.