Orc in Ithilien

It was a bright autumn morning in Ithilien, about three weeks after Shagrat’s impromptu departure from the palace. Eowyn, as she was now wont to do, was pacing out the floor-space in Faramir’s library, berating herself soundly for her role in her husband’s current condition.

“But he has been so desperately ill,” the Lady of Rohan insisted. “How can you still assure me that these effects have nothing to with the events of – of that night?”

Hrodgar, her advisor, commented that it was not the first time that Faramir had been affected by such similar symptoms.

“And what do you mean by that!” Eowyn asked hotly.

“I am speaking of his Highness’ – illness, incapacity – call it what you will – the lasting infirmity that afflicted him after the siege of Minas Tirith, and which necessitated such a prolonged stay in the Houses of Healing.”

Hearing what she perceived to be a slight on her husband’s courage, Eowyn coloured up and rushed to his defence, saying that her own recuperation following that battle had taken quite as much time.

“The point I am making is only that your Ladyship’s injuries were by and large bodily hurts. Whereas in your husband’s case – well, shall we say that even then, there was evidence for a certain fragility of the mind. That his relapse has occurred so quickly is no great surprise – not for any person already experienced in treating cases of this type.”

“I say this with the utmost respect for his Highness,” the advisor added after a moment. He had noticed a familiar, obstinate look arranging itself across Eowyn’s features, a tell-tale sign that indicated she was wavering on the point of withdrawing all co-operation. “But your husband is not at present himself. If he had been allowed to rave unchecked, he might have sunk so far into his derangement that he would have been lost beyond hope of recovery. Consider the plight of your Uncle, Theoden King. Had we only been granted the foresight to act, at those first, earliest signs of his own infirmity –“

At this painful reminder of a subject that would always sadden her, Eowyn stifled a low groan. “Even so, ought not we to send to Minas Tirith? I have thought of little else, these past few weeks. Perhaps as he did the last time, the King might be able to –“

“We have already discussed the possible ramifications, should your husband’s predicament become generally known. Rapid treatment, exactly as you and I have been providing is of paramount importance. And – he continues to accept the regular doses, does he?” Hrodgar added, as if it was an afterthought.

Eowyn nodded absently, overly trusting of Hrodgar’s judgement in this. “He has been too distracted of late to know what medicine he has been taking.”

Considering its general effects, ‘medicine’ was a rather disingenuous term for the powders Hrodgar had been prescribing, but the old man didn’t bother to correct Eowyn’s mistake. He had entered knowingly into his current course of action even if his naive accomplice had not, and still had few regrets about his conduct, if any. This was not because he was an evil fellow or even a particularly disagreeable one; his motivations were far from being anything akin to that. He loved Eowyn like a daughter – that was the truth of it, and had long nursed secret ambitions on her behalf. Though too inexperienced to see it for herself, Eowyn, as Faramir’s natural successor stood to gain in power immeasurably as a result of her husband’s current incapacity, and Hrodgar was determined to assist her rise in standing in any way he could. As for Faramir, before his separation from Eowyn, Hrodgar had not known him well enough to come to either like or dislike him, and since the royal couple’s parting, his opinion of the Prince had necessarily fallen – had plummeted, in fact. Hrodgar being unaware of the circumstances surrounding their marital break naturally (though wrongly) assumed that Faramir, given his apparent and disturbing new obsession with all things Orcish, had been the instigator of it. For that heinous slight to his Lady if nothing else, he would have his revenge.

“That is excellent news,” Hrodgar beamed at Eowyn. “Prophylaxis, administered before the malady has properly taken hold always offers the best prognosis - in cases I’ve seen of this sort.”

“You are sure that then that you have treated these kinds of symptoms before?” Eowyn asked in a rush, hardly daring to hope. It was not the first time she had asked such a question, but she craved Hrodgar’s reassurance.

“Of course,” Hrodgar prevaricated. “And his Highness’ condition now is -?”

“My husband is weakened, still. But – he is sitting up and writing in his study.” What Faramir was writing was something Eowyn did not at that point particularly want to think about, much less discuss.

She would have to talk about it with someone eventually, though. The stress of being party to Faramir’s twisted and insane aspirations had taken its toll on her and she needed a sympathetic shoulder to lean on, someone who would be a reliable source of support.

“He says that – he says he plans to advertise!” Eowyn blurted out. “Since he has tried and failed so often – finally accepting that he cannot retrieve the foul creature himself, he has resolved to use any other means at his disposal. And all because you and I have rendered him all but impotent in that respect by our actions! Now he wishes to offer a reward for the safe return of the beast. He is composing the notices as even we speak. They are to be sent far and wide - our shame and degradation will be written plainly for all to see! With this he will forever link himself - inextricably, irrefutably - to that brute!”

Hrodgar thought about what she’d told him. In all of his lengthy experience in politics, he’d learned that there was very little in the way of factual information that could not be turned about - or even entirely on its head - given an appropriate amount of spin. The trick was always to find and select the correct angle of approach, the one that would make the bitterest of factual pills seem wonderful and sweet-tasting to the appetites of the general public. In the light of that, this one was almost too easy for him.

“The idea is not entirely without merit,” the old man said. “Consider if it was perhaps to be couched in different terms.”

Eowyn asked him what he meant.

“Your husband wishes to find one particular Orc,” Hrodgar explained. “But what if during the course of all his searching, he was to locate more than one of them, or even many?”

But what would be the use in that? - was Eowyn’s bitter retort. “A single Uruk-hai invading my home is assuredly one more than I would ever care to deal with.”

“The last of the Orcs and Uruks were cowed and broken after the fall of Mordor,” Hrodgar explained. “Everyone believed they had beaten down and that we had seen the last of that dreadful race, but it seems they have grown bold since that time. Numerous sources have it that they have congregated in the south of the country, are now to be found flaunting themselves openly, especially in the regions near Harad and Khand, where that kind could ever walk abroad unmolested. It is a burgeoning problem, for even now, those fiends must be wreaking their havoc far and wide. What I am thinking of is a bold campaign seeking to rid Gondor of the last of the Orcish scourge of Mordor – a campaign instigated by his royal highness, Prince Faramir of Ithilien. That is what we should aspire to, do you see? If successful it would bring you - your husband - fame and glory surpassing all that has gone before. Whoever accomplished it would be a hero of the people, make no mistake.”

Eowyn regarded him wryly. “Faramir is no fool,” she said. “As he has so clearly demonstrated by his recent conduct, he cares but little for his reputation - or for the trappings of celebrity. He would never agree to such a scheme.”

“If you offered to help,” Hrodgar suggested, “distracting him from our true purpose, I am certain we could do it.”

“He knows my feelings on this subject only too well,” Eowyn countered doubtfully, “and is unlikely to ever believe I would willingly be any party to this.”

“My Lady, you could easily sway him. You have at your disposal all the means necessary to persuade him.”

“But I would be deceiving him! Behaving in a manner entirely bereft of honour. In good conscience, I could never do that.”

“It is the only way to avert the catastrophe that you have yourself foreseen,” insisted Hrodgar. “That is, the only solution I can devise myself at this time. But what are your own suggestions on this matter?”

“I – I cannot yet say.” Eowyn turned away so that Hrodgar would not see her too-evident disappointment. She had been hoping for better from him.

The old man was well aware that his protogee had turned to him for advice as a last resort and had no better plan of her own to offer. Eowyn, he knew, would spend some time vacillating about the rights and wrongs of the question, but he trusted that eventually she would make a rational choice.

******************

And so she did. The next morning Hrodgar was summoned for counsel in his lady’s chamber.

“I have just spoken with him about it,” Eowyn said breathlessly, “and he seemed only too eager to accept my help.”

“You have made the right decision my lady,” Hrodgar commented, nodding gravely. “It takes bravery to embark upon a course such as this, and I must say that by it you will be saving your husband, as surely as you would if you had set out to rescue him from some mortal peril.”

Eowyn smiled back excitedly, despite her own misgivings. After weeks of self-recrimination and worry, having a definite course of action to embark upon had settled her mind, allaying much of the mental turmoil that had beset her since her return to Ithilien.

“And here is the information that Faramir wishes to be distributed,” she said, handing over a document written in ink in Faramir’s cramped and looping script.

Hrodgar read the material carefully through, twice.

“A leafleting campaign, perhaps, would be best,” was Hrodgar’s first comment. “We’ll give prominence to the monetary incentive offered for information, of course. That’s all along the right lines. As to the rest of it -” he continued, frowning, “if it proves absolutely necessary, we can put it on the back. As if anyone will ever think of reading as far as that.”