Faramir Fiction Archive

The Long Road Home (R)

Written by Minx

26 March 2005 | 14519 words

7. Unforeseen Travellers

Faramir paled involuntarily at the sound of the voice resonating through to the tiny clearing. The same voice that haunted his nightmares now, came out loud and clear. Beside him, Legolas had stiffened in the act of grabbing his bow, while Aragorn’s lips tightened in a thin line and Anduril gleamed in the sunlight as the King’s grip on his sword handle tightened. A soft curse broke out from Gimli, and he automatically moved towards the Steward, who stood as still as if carved from a block of stone.

Faramir held himself still, telling himself over and over again to forget everything and concentrate on what would happen. He was ashamed to find himself feeling something akin to fear at the sound of Haldorn’s voice the nearer it reached. Fear was a new sensation to him, for though he may have had a love for learning, he was a good soldier too, willing to risk all for the sake of the land he loved. Even his father he had not feared, merely despaired of.

He shut his eyes tight for a fraction of a second before pursing his lips and returning his thoughts and full concentration to the situation at hand.

“‘Tis them,” Legolas hissed.

“How?” That was Gimli, annoyed that he hadn’t succeeded in putting out the bandit for a longer time. He was in fact quite surprised. Even if they had recovered, and likely they had, being men of the road, to have caught up with the company, even at its slower rate of travel, was be no mean feat.

The answer came around the clearing soon enough, when five men rounded the clearing riding truly magnificent horses, the likes of which could come only from the land of Rohan, where the men reared some of the best horses to be found in the middle earth. Swift of foot, and strong, they were an asset to anyone fortunate to own them.

And the owners now seemed to be Haldorn and his men. He seemed to have been joined by two more, and it occurred to Aragorn that he had forgotten that there might have been more men with him, who had not been there when they met the other day.

It did not take more than the smallest glance to show how Haldorn and his men had come by such horses, telltale bloodstains now dried, and caked on their clothes, as well as on the horses’ saddles told the tale., and the company from Gondor found themselves angered not just over their past experience with these foul men, but also for the sake of the poor unfortunates who might have been waylaid by them, and readied themselves to fight.

The element of surprise now lay with them, having an idea as to what they were to face, but to the five bandits who rounded into the clearing the sight was one to raise consternation. The horses came to an abrupt halt rearing up slightly.

“You, again!” the coarse accents unnerved the young Steward who found himself gripping his sword tightly, ignoring protests from each and every muscle in his worn and injured body.

The men in front of him had a lot to answer for.

“We should have thrown you into the river while we had a chance,” Gimli growled, rushing forward, to take advantage of their shock.

Haldorn smirked, his hand going up to a crude bandage tied around his head as he dismounted, “We meet again, my dwarven friend, come, I have much to say to you.” He drew out a sword to defend himself, and his friends followed as they jumped off their horses, warily facing the Gondorians. The horses obviously were not all they had made away with.

A leery smile came Faramir’s way, but he ignored it, pushing everything to the back of his mind.

The sound of metal hitting metal resounded as sword met axe, and it seemed that was all the others had been waiting for. Moving out of their spots they raced to the attack. Legolas found himself forced to drop his bow, and take to his knives, as Taldor rushed at him with a sword. He was a better fighter than his other companions had been, and Legolas found himself using all his elven skills to keep him at bay.

Aragorn found himself battling not just Dorgon but the fifth man too. Dorgon though had still not lost his ineptness at battle with a stronger opponent and fell to the wayside soon; leaving him to take on the second new entrant who, like his friend, was a good fighter.

But he was not and never would be as good as the King of Gondor, who soon realised that all it would take would be a few more judicious moves to get his man. And then, he could move on to help Faramir with Faldor, for out of the corner of his eye he could see that Faramir was having trouble, even though his opponent was injured and not fighting well.

Faramir’s back and shoulders seemed to him to be on fire. His limbs were still very stiff, and his movements were awkward and ungainly. Pain dulled his senses, and a numbing tiredness ached to take over his body. He grunted and his breath came out in short raspy sobs.

His discomfort did not go unnoticed by his rival, who decided to sue his relative strength, in place of lack of skill. Instead of aim, he relied on brute strength to push the young Steward into tiring himself out even more.

Metal flashed in the air, and the clanging sounds resonated through the clearing, mingling with grunts of pain, causing frightened birds to abandon the trees in favour of the skies.

Legolas used both knived hands to equal advantage, skilfully countering every move his opponent made. A small knife, though, would not hold out against the long blade and so he decided to adopt a different approach.

He danced his way away from his opponent towards the stream nimbly leaping onto the slippery rocks that had been smoothened by the constant movement of water over many, many years. He kept his balance with practiced ease, placing his feet lightly on the surface, drawing Taldor closer and closer to the water’s edge as he weaved his knives in and out defending with one hand and parrying with the other.

His attacker finally managed to fight off one parried thrust from the knife as it snagged o his tunic sleeve, using the momentary distraction to lunge at Legolas. The blond Elf swerved, though not soon enough, as the sword point nicked his shoulder. He hissed at the sudden, sharp pain, his eyes narrowing, as he lunged with his free knife, as the sword retracted, inviting the man to leap sideways. His ploy worked, for the next moment the man was floundering in the stream, the currents throwing him back upon the rocks, while his sword fell out of his hand to be carried swiftly downstream by the swift current.

Even with one shoulder injured it too Legolas no time to ensure his opponent could not fight back. He moved to help his friends now.

Haldorn had attacked Gimli with a ferocity brought out by his memory of their last meeting. And the Dwarf after two days of hard work at his least favourite activity, was stiff and saddle sore. He defended himself adeptly however, and the fight looked evenly poised, until Dorgon who for a few seconds had lain where he had fallen after being wounded by Aragorn’s sword, found Gimli backing towards him. A movement of his foot was all it took send the Dwarf toppling over, and when Legolas turned towards his friends it was to see Gimli falling headfirst backwards onto the ground, and Haldorn and Dorgon jumping at him simultaneously.

He reacted immediately, rushing to his friend’s defence, even as Aragorn continued parrying with his opponent, slowly but surely gaining an upper hand, over the relatively inexperienced combatant, and a tiring Faramir desperately lunged at Faldor, with his strength ebbing slowly away.

Legolas leapt onto Dorgon’s back, tearing him away from Gimli, and pushing him onto Haldorn, sending all three sprawling onto the ground. He bit back a cry as he hit the ground on his injured shoulder, and swiped his knife at the nearest figure. Gimli lay where he’d fallen half dazed, pain marring his face.

Legolas found himself struggling with in unarmed combat with Dorgon, his other knife lay somewhere in the melee, as did Dorgon’s weapon.

Haldorn rolled away towards where Faramir was panting as he stood over his fallen opponent. The last well-aimed lunge had found its mark, and Faldor dropping his weapon and clutching his sword arm in pain, had fallen against a tree and knocked himself out. Seeing the exhaustion writ plainly on the Steward’s face, now grey with fatigue and pain, Haldorn jumped at him, grabbing Faldor’s fallen sword.

“We meet again, my friend,” he whispered softly, advancing on to the man.

A brief look of panic flitted across Faramir’s visage, his breathing sounded shallower, but then suddenly his face took on a firm countenance, as he ducked the outstretched thrust, and fought back.

Faramir willed himself to forget his tiredness and pain, as he faced the bandit. This time he intended to fight back. He had fought stronger forces than this man. And the sudden grimness on his face, and the hardening of his jaw gave Haldorn a preview of his capabilities, as the Steward attacked him with a new found energy thrusting fiercely, and causing him to back away.

Gimli shut his eyes and opened them again refocusing on the blue vastness of the sky above rimmed by a few leafy green treetops, and then cursed as he remembered how that fool of a human had tripped him over; the same one who was fighting the Elf right now. Deciding that two could play at the same game, he lunged himself at the two of them, yanking the human away forcefully. Dorgon was caught in surprise, and had no answer to return, as the Dwarf clipped him on the side of his head.

“Thank you my friend,” Legolas smiled as he helped the Dwarf up once he’d finished.

Gimli grunted in response, as they turned to help their friends. Aragorn had felled his man by now, and was advancing on Haldorn drawing him away from Faramir, who seemed to resent the undue intrusion, for he had now endowed Haldorn with various cuts on his sword arm, which had slowed the bandit down considerably. He himself was drawing every ounce of strength he had reserved in him, fighting with a ferocity that surprised even his onlookers. With sudden alacrity, he sidestepped a blow from his attacker sending him off balance, and then taking advantage of that lunged at him.

“Help Gimli and Legolas,” he grunted out to Aragorn who was advancing in his direction. A swift thrust at Haldorn’s side forced him to fall to the ground dropping his weapon. The man half lay half crouched on the ground groaning in pain clutching his side, and Faramir took a slow step backward.

Aragorn moved towards him, as he kept his eyes on Haldorn, waiting for him to rise.

“You are hurt,” he commented to his other two friends as they joined him, Legolas with his shoulder bleeding, and Gimli, with an ugly gash on his head. Faramir stood by swaying tiredly, wondering whether a wash in the stream would help him feel better.

“I am all right,” Legolas retorted, clutching his shoulder tightly, as he went towards Haldorn and looked at him in distaste, “We should tie them up and take them along as prisoners,”

“They’re a danger to travellers on this route,” Gimli growled in agreement.

“Yes, that is what I was thinking,” Aragorn commented, as the four companions stood pondering over what to do.

A sound reached Legolas’ sharp elven ears causing him to suddenly turn around, and look towards the stream, sending a sharp skewer of pain through his shoulder.

“Aragorn!” he shouted in warning, leaping to his friend’s defence, ignoring his own pain.

But Faramir being closer, got there before him, shoving his King out of the way of the knife thrown by Talgor whom Legolas had left unconscious by the river.

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