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The strange sea road	By : sjansons Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 4650 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter 5: Hentmirë’s secret

What has happened to me? wondered Haldir. Why do I feel so strange… He looked down at his hands. No! he screamed. No! NO!

…

Legolas looked around frantically, trying to find a weapon, but sh hsh had already grabbed one of the palanquin’s carrying poles and was brandishing it at the snarling animal. “Go!” he shouted, “go! Get away from my lady, you vile creature! Go!”

“No, Rimush! No!” came a voice from inside the courtyard.

Legolas turned towards the garden in surprise.

“Do not chase him away!” cried Eowyn, running barefoot across the mosaic floor. She caught hold of the metal bars and shook the gate. “Please, Yassib, open up, quickly. Quickly!”

The baboon ran towards her, chattering excitedly.

Legolas jumped down from the palanquin and seized another pole. “Melmenya,” he said, “be careful!”

But the animal’s anger had already vanished. And, the moment the wrought-iron gate swung open, he bounded up to Eowyn and nuzzled her outstretched hand.

“It is Haldir,” said Eowyn, holding the baboon’s head. “I was watching from the balcony, Legolas. I saw him change shape—”

“No!” cried Hentmirë, wildly. “No! I am the one who has angered you! Punish me!”

…

“Human women,” said Valandil, filling a bowl with water, “are brave and resourceful but more fragile than ellith. You have to take much better care of them.”

Figwit cut two thick slices of bread and laid them on a plate with a small piece of cheese and some dried fruits. “Do you think she is improving?”

“I am not sure,” said Valandil. “The desert was very hard on her.”

“I am sorry.”

Valandil patted his shoulder. “Had the roc not taken us, who knows what would have become of her,” he said, “either on that ship or, later, when we reached land?” He carried the bowl and a cloth through to Figwit’s spartan bedroom and set it down on the nightstand.

Wilawen, lying on the narrow bed, was tossing and turning, and mumbling incoherently about the roc and the dragon-creatures. Valandil dipped the cloth in the water and, sitting down beside her, carefully dampened her face and neck.

Figwit placed the plate of food on the nightstand, beside the bowl. “Here,” he said. “And do not forget to eat it this time…”

…

“My lady?” said Legolas, softly. He had carried Hentmirë indoors and laid her on her daybed whilst Eowyn and Faramir, using a leather belt as a lead, had brought the baboon inside.

“My lady…” he repeated.

Hentmirë did not respond.

Legolas looked up at Faramir. “I knew there was something wrong,” he said. “I knew that someone had threatened her. But she would not confide in me.”

A serving girl, carrying a glass of steaming liquid, approached him respectfully. “Old Donatiya has made up a philtre to help soothe the mistress’s nerves, Master Legolas,” she said. “It usually works…”

The elf took the glass from her, gratefully. “Thank you,” he said. “Come, my lady.” He slipped his arm behind her shoulders. “Drink some of this. It will make you feel better.”

“Ask her to drink it for you,” said Eowyn, softly. The baboon was looking up at her, watching her intently. She stroked its head.

Legolas shot her a grateful smile. “Please, my lady,” he said to Hentmirë, “take a sip—for me.”

The woman turned to face him, her eyes wide and unfocussed, and said, sadly, “I told them it was not safe after dark.”

“I know, my lady.” He held the glass to her lips and helped her take a few sips.

“He thought it was you,” she said.

“My lady?”

“It is all my fault. He threatened to take you away from me and I still refused to give him what he wanted. How could I have taken such a risk? And now your poor friend—oh, my dear, I am so sorry! Tell him I am sorry! If I could change places with him…” Tears ran down her face.

Legolas set the glass down on the side table and took her in his arms.

“You are not to blame for this, my lady,” he said, firmly. “But now you have no choice—you must tell me everything you know about this man. I will not let him get away with this. Eowyn and I—and Faramir—we will find him and, when we have forced him to restore Haldir to his proper form, I will make sure that he is punished for whatever he has done to you.”

…

“Valandil? What are you doing in my bedroom?” asked Wilawen.

The elf—who had finally been overcome by exhaustion and, in spite of himself, slipped into reverie—awoke with a start. “We are not in your bedroom, hûn velui,” he said, smiling. “Are you thirsty? Shall I fetch you a drink?”

“I am not an invalid.” She tried to sit up. “Oh,” she gasped.

Valandil caught her shoulders and gently lowered her back onto the thin pillow. “Do not try to move just yet.”

“It hurts to smile.”

“Your face is burnt,” he said, carefully pushing back her hair. “Chiefly on the right side—”

“We were travelling west,” she said.

“Yes.” He smiled again—her mind was as sharp as ever. “And your lips are cracked. But they are much better than they were. Let me fetch that water.”

“Better than they were? Were when?” asked Wilawen.

“When we first arrived, Wilawen. Two days ago. You have been sleeping for two days.”

…

“I told you,” said Hentmirë, blushing deeply, “that, in my youth, I had a suitor and that—when I realised all he wanted was my money—I sent him away.” Legolas nodded. “But what I did not tell you—” She bit her lip.

The elf stroked her hand, encouragingly.

“What I did not tell you, Legolas, is that, before I sent him away, I did something very, very foolish.” She shook her head. “I cannot tell you…”

Legolas looked up at Faramir, appealing for support.

“What did you do, my lady?” asked the man, gently. “We need to know.”

“I… I married him,” said Hentmirë, and her tears began to fall again. “I married him, Legolas. I was young and I thought that he loved me. And it was such an adventure—we sailed to Rohat, where there was a magistrate willing to marry us without asking too many questions—”

Legolas squeezed her hand. “Oh, my lady,” he said, softly.

“It was not until the journey home that I realised what a mistake I had made. Before the wedding he had been so kind and gentle, and so attentive. But afterwards—” She could not hold back a sob.

“When I refused to allow him into my cabin he struck me. Dear Captain Mutallu locked him in the hold and took me ashore as soon as we came into port. Wanneanned for the Captain to take him back to Rohat and leave him there—but neither of us knew what a powerful magician he was—”

“He escaped?” asked Faramir.

Hentmirë nodded. “When I got back to the house, some sixth sense made me have the servants lock all the doors and windows. If I had not done that…” She shuddered. “Years later, another magician told me that no sorcerer, however powerful, can enter a house if its lady has forbidden it and that—by locking the doors—that was tly tly what I had done. We are safe in here, now that it is too late.” She wrung her hands. “The magician said that Baalhanno’s powers—that is his name, Baalhanno—are much weaker in the daylight. That is why we can go out during the day…”

“But,” said Legolas, “you came to the slave market in the dark.”

“I came because Captain Milkherem had told me about you,” said Hentmirë. “And it had been so long since Baalhanno’s last threat that I had begun to think he had given up—but, in any case, I would have risked anything to see you…”

“Where does he live, this Baalhanno?” asked Legolas. “Where can we find him?”

“I do not know, Legolas… Captain Mutallu cannot find him; the Caliph’s guards could not; and nor could the magician. Oh! How shall we help your friend if we cannot find him?”

“Tell us about the letters,” said Legolas, gently.

“Yes. At first they came every night,” she said. “Sometimes he would float up to my window—float!—I had a room overlooking the Great Road then—and he would push the letters through the shutters, scratching his nails over the wood to scare me.” Legolas squeezed her hand. “They are full of terrible threats—once he said that he would call up a tempest—knowing that dear Captain Mutallu and his crew were far out at sea. Another time he said that he would turn my servants into snakes and scorpions to bite and sting me. And, in the last letter, he said that he w tak take ma> may know something of this villain. I shall talk to Captain Oliel at first light. I have also been thinking that we should rescue the other elves. Oliel’s associate told us that two of them were bought by a brothel keeper…”

“Arinna,” said Legolas. “It seems so.”

“What happened to the other one?”

“Valandil.” Legolas sighed. “You will not believe me, Faramir,” he said.

…

“Where is your friend?” asked Wilawen, handing her glass back to Valandil. “With the strange name.”

“Figwit?” Valandil smiled. “That is his nickname. He is out on the terrace, with the bird.”

“What is that bird? And why did it bring us here?”

“I have not had the chance to find out.”

“Not had the chance? What have you been doing, for two days?”

Valandil opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He shrugged his shoulders.

Wilawen shook her head. “Let us go and talk to this Figwit, now,” she said.

“You are too tired.”

“I am fine.” She tried to sit up. “Well—perhaps you could help me…”

With difficulty, fearing that he might accidentally overstep the boundaries of their friendship, Valandil helped her out of bed and supported her as she slowly made her way through Figwit’s sparsely furnished sitting room, through the door, with its strange, onion-shaped arch, and out onto the terrace.

Figwit was bidding the roc farewell. “Good night, hiril velui,” he cried, as the great bird rose up into the night sky. “No i Melain na le.” He turned to his guests. “She lives on the mainland,” he explained. “Where she cannot find her.”

“Who is she?” asked Valandil. “And why does she want us?”

“She does not want us,” said Wilawen. “It was your friend, Figwit, who brought us here.”

Valandil turned to her in surprise.

“The bird,” she said, gesturing up at the tiny silhouette, now hovering far above them, “belongs to him and he sent it to find us rat rather, to find you.”

“You are right, hiril nín,” said Figwit, “though the roc does not belong to me. She is my friend. But I must apologise to you.” He bowed, hand on heart. “As you say, it was never my intention for her to bring a woman, just another elf. But, please,” he offered to take Wilawen’s other arm, “come back inside and I shall explain everything—or, at least, I shall explain as much as I know.”

…

Asg asg as she is sitting beside me, thought Haldir, I can survive this…

…

Legolas could not help smiling—Eowyn had fallen asleep, curled up in her chair, with her hand still resting on the baboon’s head. “Come, melmenya,” he said, softly, “we must put you to bed.” He slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees.

The baboon growled.

Legolas looked up in surprise.

“I have been watching him,” said Faramir, quietly. He edged towards the animal and slowly pi up up its lead. “It is as though the baboon’s nature is at war with Haldir’s and, sometimes, the animal prevails… You take her up to bed. I shall find him some food and then tie him up outside for the night.”

He stroked the baboon’s head. “Come with me,” he said, pulling gently on its improvised collar; but the creature was reluctant to leave Eowyn’s side. “He will take good care of her,” said Faramir. “And you will see her again in the morning.”

Legolas scooped Eowyn into his arms. “Good night, Faramir,” he said. “And thank you, mellon nín. Thank you for everything.”

…

“I had heard that you had sailed west,” said Valandil. He turned to Wilawen. “To the Undying Lands,” he said.

“Yes,” said Wilawen.

Figwit nodded. “I set out for the Grey Havens with Lady Arwen,” he said, “when Sauron’s power was at its height. There were hundreds of us, all making our last, melancholy journey through Middle Earth together. Lord Elrond had urged me to take good care of his daughter and, as I walked beside her, I could sense her conflicting emotions—her respect for her father pre prevailing over her love for Estel. But then, as we neared The Last Bridge, she caught sight of something, deep in the forest—”

“Estel,” said Valandil, turning to Wilawen, “is—”

“King Elessar,” said Wilawen, with a touch of impatience. “Now her husband.” She turned back to Figwit. “What did she see?”

“So she did marry EsteFigwFigwit smiled. “I did not know… And I do not know what she saw, hiril nín, but, whatever it was, it took me some time to break the spell it had cast over her—‘Lady Arwen,’ I said, ‘we cannot delay.’ ‘My future is here, Aegnor,’ she said, ‘in Middle Earth, with my husband and child.’ Tears spilled from her eyes. ‘I am to have a d

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The strange sea road