FIC: From Rauros to Cirith Ungol (WIP 2/?)
AU FIC: FROM RAUROS TO CIRITH UNGOL (WIP, 2/?)
Title: From Rauros to Cirith Ungol
By: Ithiliana
Overall Rating: Variable, PG at start and in places but as part of overall AU, NC-17
Section Rating: Part 2 is PG
Pairings: Frodo/Faramir
Feedback: Always Appreciated!
Disclaimer: Oh heavens, forgot this earlier. EEPS. Thank goodness for bluepencil. All characters belong to Tolkien estate. My stuff written for fun, not money, no intent to infringe copyright.
My earlier AU in this series can be found by accessing my Memory Page:
From Rivendell to Rauros 1-22 Here NC-17
The current AU parts will be identified at the same place as I post them.
From Rauros to Cirith Ungol will be posted in my journal and on the interspecies lj community. From Rauros to Isengard will be posted in my journal and on the sons_of_gondor lj community. The first part of the series is posted entirely on my journal since it consists of both interspecies and sons_of_gondor narratives intertwined.
For those who don't wish to read all 22 parts (137 pages if memory serves), you can read a brief summary of the main premise and action:
Summary of "From Rivendell to Rauros": http://www.livejournal.com/users/ithili
March 5-8, 3018
From Cair Andros through Ithilien
That night and the next, the River suddenly gathered itself together, narrowing, and began moving more quickly to the Sea. Early on the tenth night since they had left Parth Galen, Frodo looked downstream to see a looming shape, a shape he first thought was a huge ship, in the dark. White foam boiled around the base.
"Cair Andros," Faramir said. "Make for the eastern shore. We will be traveling no further by River."
Taking the boat out of the main current was hard work, and slow, but Frodo and Faramir persevered, eventually bringing the boat to a narrow bank, rocky and slippery. Faramir leaped out and pulled the boat as high as he could, then helped Frodo out.
"Where are we?" Frodo asked quietly.
Faramir paused after he had slung his pack on. "The island you see in the River is Cair Andros, one of our Outposts. The other is north of here, Henneth Annûn. We're about fifty miles north of Minas Tirith. We must leave the River here, travel across Cormallen and south through Ithilien to the Cross-roads. It should take us perhaps three nights. We must be careful, Frodo. The Rangers, all men whose families lived in Ithilien in the past, patrol Ithilien. I have commanded here in the past, but they routinely change their patrols. We travel at night, carefully, and spend the day in concealment. "
Frodo nodded, remembering the maps he had studied in Rivendell, picked up his pack, and made sure his water bottle was firmly attached.
Faramir pulled the boat further out of the water. He took the two coils of elven rope out and stowed them in his pack.
"What are you going to do with it?" Frodo asked. He laid his hand on the prow of the boat which had carried them so far and so faithfully. He thought he felt it quiver under his hand, push against it almost like Bill the Pony had when you stroked his nose.
"I'll take it further into the woods, hide it," Faramir said. "I don't want anybody to find it and start tracking us."
"Wait," Frodo said. "Why don't we send it down the River? It would be even less likely anybody could find it, and…" he stopped, embarrassed at what he had been about to say.
"And what, Frodo?" Faramir's voice was soft.
"And I think it would prefer that to being left in the woods," Frodo whispered.
After a moment, Faramir said, "That's a good idea. Help me?"
Frodo knew Faramir didn't need his help, but he was glad he'd asked. Together they slid the boat over the ground and into the water. Faramir made sure both paddles were inside and released it. The current quickly pulled the boat out and away. They stood a few moments, straining their eyes to see it, but it was soon lost to sight.
"The River will carry it past Cair Andros, through ruined Osgiliath, into South Ithilien and past Pelargir, to the Mouths of Anduin, and from there to the Great Sea, under the stars," Faramir said.
Frodo was content. It seemed right to set the elven boat on the way to the Sea.
After a moment, Faramir turned and led the way into the scented night. Above, the moon was waxing round and cast a silvery light which not only let them see the ground they were walking on but turned the trees and plants around them a silvery green color that reminded Frodo of parts of Lothlorien.
Frodo began to enjoy himself. He was happy to be off the River, away from the plains and fens which had provided little cover. Walking through the woods, smelling the many night scents, he felt at home. He had always loved woods, associating them with the Elves, and felt safer in them than in the open. And he liked walking in woods at night.
They walked for several hours, Faramir leading Frodo unerringly to a road that was narrow, with the paving-stones covered with weeds, but cut through the wilderness. They rested near a small fast-running stream where they filled their water bottles. As they rose to begin walking again, a cold wind came from the east.
The light above was cut off. A dark wave of cold and fear came over Frodo. He dropped to his knees, cowering, as a shriek sounded in the night. He saw spectral white figures surrounding him, as they had on Weathertop, the darkness in their eye sockets somehow focused on him. The largest one, looming in front of him, held a sword and a dagger.
Frodo knew what they wanted.
"You cannot have it," he shouted, or tried to shout.
Their mocking laughter sounded in their ears as they reached out to him. To take him to Mordor. A cold fire pierced his shoulder, and he fell back, twisting in agony as the knife bit deep into him, seeking his heart.
Frodo despaired, knowing that his quest had failed, and reached out to the darkness.
* * * * * * *
Frodo opened his eyes, reluctant, feeling the pain in his shoulder. He half-expected to see Gandalf, to be waking in a bed in Rivendell. Instead, he was lying in deep fragrant grass, wrapped in blankets and cloaks, under the dropping branches of a large cedar tree. Beside him, Faramir slept, lying on his back.
Frodo tried to move, but he was wrapped to tightly in multiple layers that it was difficult. As he wiggled about, trying to unwrap himself, Faramir woke.
"Frodo!"
Faramir leaned over him, placing a hand on his chest to hold him down.
"Frodo, be careful."
Frodo quit moving, but he was confused.
"What's wrong? What day is it? Where are we? What happened?"
Faramir laughed as he started unwinding the layers around Frodo. "You must be feeling better if you can ask so many questions. You collapsed last night, it's March 7. We're in Ithilien, of course."
Frodo sat up, stretching. The day was warm. He could see sunlight through the trees, the grass starred with small flowers. The air was soft with fragrance.
"How do you feel?" Faramir was watching him intently.
Frodo frowned, a hand to his shoulder. He could still feel pain, a dim echo of what he'd felt when he was wounded. The memory of last night was coming back to him.
"Was it the Black Riders?" he asked. "Were we attacked?" It seemed impossible that Faramir could have fought them all off.
"I believe that a Nazgûl flew over us last night," Faramir said. "I heard its cry. Then you collapsed. You felt cold to the touch, and I dared not build a fire. So I wrapped you as well as I could and lay beside you."
"I thought I saw them, as I had at Weathertop. And felt as if I was wounded, again." Frodo shivered, but the warmth of the air was soaking into him. The light of day and the birdsongs all around him were helping him recover quickly. "But I am feeling better now, stronger. And hungry." He looked at Faramir hopefully.
Faramir laughed. "That's good to hear. I've set snares, but I don't want to visit them until after sunset. Have some waybread."
Faramir dug into his pack and gave Frodo a wafer of lembas, refusing to eat anything himself. He had eaten earlier, he said, and Frodo hadn't. Frodo ate the food and drank water, Faramir encouraging him to drink as much as he needed. They could refill their bottles easily in the many streams of Ithilien.
Folding the blankets, Faramir set them against the tree trunk, encouraged Frodo to lean against them. He wanted to stay under cover till dark. Faramir reclined next to him, leaning on one arm.
"Tell me something about this place," Frodo said. "You said you served here. It's beautiful."
Faramir smiled at him. "I love it," he said. "It is a country of woods and hills, streams and waters. Some call it the 'garden of Gondor.' It is protected by hills and mountains on east and west, so the south winds carry moisture and warmth into it. Spring comes early, and the land is always green even in winter."
"Do people live here?"
"Not any more," Faramir said. "We did generations ago. But our people have been driven out by the Enemy. We maintain outposts, no more, and try to patrol the land. Perhaps when this is over, that will change."
Frodo felt Faramir's sadness, but could think of nothing to comfort him. Looking around at the trees and plants around him, he could identify only a few. "I wish Sam could see this," he said.
"Sam?"
"A friend," Frodo said. "In the Shire. He's a gardener, and I was thinking he would love to see Ithilien."
Faramir nodded, and they sat a while in silence, enjoying the peace and beauty around them. Frodo found his eyes drifting shut again, gave in to the temptation to lean back and sleep.
This sleep felt refreshing and deep. When Frodo next woke, the light was fading as the sun set. Faramir was still sitting next to him, keeping watch.
Frodo stretched and reached out for his water bottle, drinking thirstily.
"I'm glad you're awake, Frodo. I want to check my snares, but we should be leaving soon. If you are able to travel?"
"I'm fine," Frodo said, hastily. He was not sure what had happened last night, but he did not want to delay any more than he had already.
Faramir waited until the sun had set and the shades of evening were drawing in, then stood. "Stay here, Frodo, and keep on your guard," he said, then faded into the woods. He moved as quietly as Aragorn, and the elven cloak he wore shielded him from view.
Frodo sat quietly, Sting in his hand. His eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. As he sat, breathing, he began to feel a connection to the land around him. A sense of rightness in most places, but darkness, corruption in others. He shook his head, wondering if he was dreaming.
When he looked up, he saw a gleam in the twilight some distance away, two points of light, that suddenly disappeared. Heart pounding, he stood, holding Sting out in front of him. The blade did not gleam, so he knew no Orc was near. But listening, Frodo thought he could hear a hiss.
Frodo stood, his back to the tree, sword held firmly, watching for some time, but saw and heard nothing more. Finally, Faramir appeared.
"I was lucky, there were two--" Faramir stopped speaking. "Frodo, what's wrong?"
"I thought I saw Gollum," Frodo said, sheathing Sting and sitting down. "Just a glimpse."
"That's unfortunate," Faramir said. "I hope he does not alert the Rangers to our presence. Or Orcs. I saw no sign of him. We'll have to take care tonight."
Faramir and Frodo packed the blankets away, and prepared to leave. During that night's march, Frodo nearly stumbled several times because he was trying to watch behind them. More and more, he was sure he could feel Gollum's eyes on him and sense his malice.
To be con't…
Title: From Rauros to Cirith Ungol
By: Ithiliana
Overall Rating: Variable, PG at start and in places but as part of overall AU, NC-17
Section Rating: Part 2 is PG
Pairings: Frodo/Faramir
Feedback: Always Appreciated!
Disclaimer: Oh heavens, forgot this earlier. EEPS. Thank goodness for bluepencil. All characters belong to Tolkien estate. My stuff written for fun, not money, no intent to infringe copyright.
My earlier AU in this series can be found by accessing my Memory Page:
From Rivendell to Rauros 1-22 Here NC-17
The current AU parts will be identified at the same place as I post them.
From Rauros to Cirith Ungol will be posted in my journal and on the interspecies lj community. From Rauros to Isengard will be posted in my journal and on the sons_of_gondor lj community. The first part of the series is posted entirely on my journal since it consists of both interspecies and sons_of_gondor narratives intertwined.
For those who don't wish to read all 22 parts (137 pages if memory serves), you can read a brief summary of the main premise and action:
Summary of "From Rivendell to Rauros": http://www.livejournal.com/users/ithili
March 5-8, 3018
From Cair Andros through Ithilien
That night and the next, the River suddenly gathered itself together, narrowing, and began moving more quickly to the Sea. Early on the tenth night since they had left Parth Galen, Frodo looked downstream to see a looming shape, a shape he first thought was a huge ship, in the dark. White foam boiled around the base.
"Cair Andros," Faramir said. "Make for the eastern shore. We will be traveling no further by River."
Taking the boat out of the main current was hard work, and slow, but Frodo and Faramir persevered, eventually bringing the boat to a narrow bank, rocky and slippery. Faramir leaped out and pulled the boat as high as he could, then helped Frodo out.
"Where are we?" Frodo asked quietly.
Faramir paused after he had slung his pack on. "The island you see in the River is Cair Andros, one of our Outposts. The other is north of here, Henneth Annûn. We're about fifty miles north of Minas Tirith. We must leave the River here, travel across Cormallen and south through Ithilien to the Cross-roads. It should take us perhaps three nights. We must be careful, Frodo. The Rangers, all men whose families lived in Ithilien in the past, patrol Ithilien. I have commanded here in the past, but they routinely change their patrols. We travel at night, carefully, and spend the day in concealment. "
Frodo nodded, remembering the maps he had studied in Rivendell, picked up his pack, and made sure his water bottle was firmly attached.
Faramir pulled the boat further out of the water. He took the two coils of elven rope out and stowed them in his pack.
"What are you going to do with it?" Frodo asked. He laid his hand on the prow of the boat which had carried them so far and so faithfully. He thought he felt it quiver under his hand, push against it almost like Bill the Pony had when you stroked his nose.
"I'll take it further into the woods, hide it," Faramir said. "I don't want anybody to find it and start tracking us."
"Wait," Frodo said. "Why don't we send it down the River? It would be even less likely anybody could find it, and…" he stopped, embarrassed at what he had been about to say.
"And what, Frodo?" Faramir's voice was soft.
"And I think it would prefer that to being left in the woods," Frodo whispered.
After a moment, Faramir said, "That's a good idea. Help me?"
Frodo knew Faramir didn't need his help, but he was glad he'd asked. Together they slid the boat over the ground and into the water. Faramir made sure both paddles were inside and released it. The current quickly pulled the boat out and away. They stood a few moments, straining their eyes to see it, but it was soon lost to sight.
"The River will carry it past Cair Andros, through ruined Osgiliath, into South Ithilien and past Pelargir, to the Mouths of Anduin, and from there to the Great Sea, under the stars," Faramir said.
Frodo was content. It seemed right to set the elven boat on the way to the Sea.
After a moment, Faramir turned and led the way into the scented night. Above, the moon was waxing round and cast a silvery light which not only let them see the ground they were walking on but turned the trees and plants around them a silvery green color that reminded Frodo of parts of Lothlorien.
Frodo began to enjoy himself. He was happy to be off the River, away from the plains and fens which had provided little cover. Walking through the woods, smelling the many night scents, he felt at home. He had always loved woods, associating them with the Elves, and felt safer in them than in the open. And he liked walking in woods at night.
They walked for several hours, Faramir leading Frodo unerringly to a road that was narrow, with the paving-stones covered with weeds, but cut through the wilderness. They rested near a small fast-running stream where they filled their water bottles. As they rose to begin walking again, a cold wind came from the east.
The light above was cut off. A dark wave of cold and fear came over Frodo. He dropped to his knees, cowering, as a shriek sounded in the night. He saw spectral white figures surrounding him, as they had on Weathertop, the darkness in their eye sockets somehow focused on him. The largest one, looming in front of him, held a sword and a dagger.
Frodo knew what they wanted.
"You cannot have it," he shouted, or tried to shout.
Their mocking laughter sounded in their ears as they reached out to him. To take him to Mordor. A cold fire pierced his shoulder, and he fell back, twisting in agony as the knife bit deep into him, seeking his heart.
Frodo despaired, knowing that his quest had failed, and reached out to the darkness.
* * * * * * *
Frodo opened his eyes, reluctant, feeling the pain in his shoulder. He half-expected to see Gandalf, to be waking in a bed in Rivendell. Instead, he was lying in deep fragrant grass, wrapped in blankets and cloaks, under the dropping branches of a large cedar tree. Beside him, Faramir slept, lying on his back.
Frodo tried to move, but he was wrapped to tightly in multiple layers that it was difficult. As he wiggled about, trying to unwrap himself, Faramir woke.
"Frodo!"
Faramir leaned over him, placing a hand on his chest to hold him down.
"Frodo, be careful."
Frodo quit moving, but he was confused.
"What's wrong? What day is it? Where are we? What happened?"
Faramir laughed as he started unwinding the layers around Frodo. "You must be feeling better if you can ask so many questions. You collapsed last night, it's March 7. We're in Ithilien, of course."
Frodo sat up, stretching. The day was warm. He could see sunlight through the trees, the grass starred with small flowers. The air was soft with fragrance.
"How do you feel?" Faramir was watching him intently.
Frodo frowned, a hand to his shoulder. He could still feel pain, a dim echo of what he'd felt when he was wounded. The memory of last night was coming back to him.
"Was it the Black Riders?" he asked. "Were we attacked?" It seemed impossible that Faramir could have fought them all off.
"I believe that a Nazgûl flew over us last night," Faramir said. "I heard its cry. Then you collapsed. You felt cold to the touch, and I dared not build a fire. So I wrapped you as well as I could and lay beside you."
"I thought I saw them, as I had at Weathertop. And felt as if I was wounded, again." Frodo shivered, but the warmth of the air was soaking into him. The light of day and the birdsongs all around him were helping him recover quickly. "But I am feeling better now, stronger. And hungry." He looked at Faramir hopefully.
Faramir laughed. "That's good to hear. I've set snares, but I don't want to visit them until after sunset. Have some waybread."
Faramir dug into his pack and gave Frodo a wafer of lembas, refusing to eat anything himself. He had eaten earlier, he said, and Frodo hadn't. Frodo ate the food and drank water, Faramir encouraging him to drink as much as he needed. They could refill their bottles easily in the many streams of Ithilien.
Folding the blankets, Faramir set them against the tree trunk, encouraged Frodo to lean against them. He wanted to stay under cover till dark. Faramir reclined next to him, leaning on one arm.
"Tell me something about this place," Frodo said. "You said you served here. It's beautiful."
Faramir smiled at him. "I love it," he said. "It is a country of woods and hills, streams and waters. Some call it the 'garden of Gondor.' It is protected by hills and mountains on east and west, so the south winds carry moisture and warmth into it. Spring comes early, and the land is always green even in winter."
"Do people live here?"
"Not any more," Faramir said. "We did generations ago. But our people have been driven out by the Enemy. We maintain outposts, no more, and try to patrol the land. Perhaps when this is over, that will change."
Frodo felt Faramir's sadness, but could think of nothing to comfort him. Looking around at the trees and plants around him, he could identify only a few. "I wish Sam could see this," he said.
"Sam?"
"A friend," Frodo said. "In the Shire. He's a gardener, and I was thinking he would love to see Ithilien."
Faramir nodded, and they sat a while in silence, enjoying the peace and beauty around them. Frodo found his eyes drifting shut again, gave in to the temptation to lean back and sleep.
This sleep felt refreshing and deep. When Frodo next woke, the light was fading as the sun set. Faramir was still sitting next to him, keeping watch.
Frodo stretched and reached out for his water bottle, drinking thirstily.
"I'm glad you're awake, Frodo. I want to check my snares, but we should be leaving soon. If you are able to travel?"
"I'm fine," Frodo said, hastily. He was not sure what had happened last night, but he did not want to delay any more than he had already.
Faramir waited until the sun had set and the shades of evening were drawing in, then stood. "Stay here, Frodo, and keep on your guard," he said, then faded into the woods. He moved as quietly as Aragorn, and the elven cloak he wore shielded him from view.
Frodo sat quietly, Sting in his hand. His eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. As he sat, breathing, he began to feel a connection to the land around him. A sense of rightness in most places, but darkness, corruption in others. He shook his head, wondering if he was dreaming.
When he looked up, he saw a gleam in the twilight some distance away, two points of light, that suddenly disappeared. Heart pounding, he stood, holding Sting out in front of him. The blade did not gleam, so he knew no Orc was near. But listening, Frodo thought he could hear a hiss.
Frodo stood, his back to the tree, sword held firmly, watching for some time, but saw and heard nothing more. Finally, Faramir appeared.
"I was lucky, there were two--" Faramir stopped speaking. "Frodo, what's wrong?"
"I thought I saw Gollum," Frodo said, sheathing Sting and sitting down. "Just a glimpse."
"That's unfortunate," Faramir said. "I hope he does not alert the Rangers to our presence. Or Orcs. I saw no sign of him. We'll have to take care tonight."
Faramir and Frodo packed the blankets away, and prepared to leave. During that night's march, Frodo nearly stumbled several times because he was trying to watch behind them. More and more, he was sure he could feel Gollum's eyes on him and sense his malice.
To be con't…
Great story.
*thanks*
*snickers to self and dashes off to do some more plotting*
*thanks*
Thank you!
I am sitting firmly on spoiler self, but am busy plotting, yes, we are Precious!