Previously:

Hills of Evendim, Arnor, Fourth Age, Nínui, 2

"We cannot abandon Faramir," Éowyn said tightly. "And if the enemy is garrisoned here, then we will bring the fight to these hills soon enough. We ought to press on, at least to see where the tracks lead."

Legolas nodded and called out orders to his Elves. They advanced into the hills, the cavalry forming a thin line as the path grew more narrow. The archers rode on the outside of the ranks, constantly scanning above for any sign of ambush.

The tracks led until the path inclined sharply and the stone and rock revealed very little. They pressed on, looking more for any detour that their quarry could have taken, any other branch off the main path that existed. On and on they went, with no sign of anywhere else to go but deeper into the hills.

Éowyn's hand strayed down to the pommel of Stormshatter. The further they went into the hills, the more unknown the territory. What awaited them? The air was colder here, and she had a strange sense that they were being watched, though the archers did not see any lookouts or sentries posted above them. She remained alert, poised for battle. She felt an uneasiness about Faramir. The longer they went without finding him, the more grim would be his fate, she feared.

Chapter 38:

Hills of Evendim, Arnor, Fourth Age, Nínui, 2

"Dagor! Dagor! Attack! Attack!" Éowyn ordered, yelling out her commands as she slashed an Easterling soldier through the stomach and pressed on up the stairs. Her legion was all around her, surrounding her in a defensive formation while still moving slowly forward. She pushed the Elven archer ahead of her, impatiently directing her troops to advance. The enemy defence was dwindling, and she could sense a breakthrough was imminent.

She could not sense where her husband was, their mental link suppressed while they focused all of their concentration on battle. She and Legolas had led their forces into the winding passages of the hills, searching for Faramir and his lost soldiers. The Elves had tracked a column of men, horses and carts higher and higher, until they came upon a dark fortress built into the rock. Mists and fog surrounded the place, making the towers and ramparts invisible to even Elven sight from a distance.

Legolas' first impulse was to turn back for Annúminas and summon reinforcements. This castle was far more than the cave dwelling they expected to find. Before Éowyn could argue that every wasted minute was endangering Faramir's life. An alarm rang out from above, gongs sounding and shouts coming from beyond the walls.

Frowning at his wife in frustration, Legolas began barking out orders, moving the archers into position while bringing the cavalry forward. They were hardly a big enough army to lay siege to a stronghold such as this, but a smaller group could slip in and try to rescue Faramir, so long as they had sufficient distraction.

As Legolas' legions let fire a storm of arrows, he gave Éowyn a warning glare.

"Don't do anything stupid," he ordered.

She gave him a quick kiss and smirked in response before taking off down a side path to circle around.

And now here they were.

Penetrating the castle was easy enough. There were open gates that had not been sealed in the enemy's haste to defend the front. They made their way up a level before they encountered soldiers, and the element of surprise allowed them to press on. As she expected, there was not a large garrison here. The army that had been decimated at Annúminas comprised most of their forces, and so she and her legion were only outnumbered about four-to-one.

She liked her odds.

"Arrows!" she cried, lifting her Elven shield up to her face. The archers behind drew their bows and loaded in a second. Pausing for a moment to allow the enemy to press in further, she and the soldiers in the front crouched down suddenly, giving a clear line of sight to the archers in the back.

The Easterlings barely had time to gape in horror before the Elves let loose.

The volley cleared a swath through the resistance, and anyone left still standing was felled by the second volley, and the third. Elves could reload and fire in the time it took a human to draw, and as Éowyn sat behind the protection of her shield, she watched as more and more of the Easterlings collapsed.

"Now!" she ordered, rising up and charging, her sword drawn and pointed forward. The Keep, or what passed for one, stood straight ahead. Her soldiers fanned out, engaging the last of the defenders in close range, while creating a funnel for her to fire through. She slashed and cut her way into the inner chambers and soon found herself in a large hall, seemingly empty.

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced about, keeping to the shadows as she stalked around the outside. The gallery above seemed empty, but exposing herself now would be foolish. She crept closer and closer to a staircase on the far side, circling around the perimeter of the room. When she reached it, she heard a pitiful groan from somewhere below. Her eyes widened in concern.

Faramir.

Keeping her sword raised, she descended the stairs quickly, careful to check to both her left and right as she moved along a dank hallway. It was possible that whoever was here before was sent fleeing at the sound of the attack, or went out to face their fate. As she moved further and further below, the hallway seemed to close around her. At least this would make defending herself easier, she thought ruefully.

The dungeon was beyond a large door that lay open before her. She used the door for cover and peered inside. The cells were empty, a chair in the corner overturned as the guards apparently left in haste. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the chamber before falling on a man shackled to the far wall, his dishevelled brown hair swept across his face.

Faramir!

She ran to him, alarmed that he was dressed only in rags and his entire body seemed limp and weak. Searching about, she found a key ring on the floor and snatched it up, going over and fumbling with the large iron keys trying to find the correct one.

After far too long, the door opened, and she flung it aside, quickly reaching the Steward's side.

"Faramir! Faramir!" she called, grabbing his head and lifting it to her eyes. "It's Éowyn. Faramir, open thy eyes!"

The Prince of Ithilien blinked several times. His eyes were glassy and dazed and he could not seem to focus on her. He let out a long breath, and she cringed at the reek of him.

"Éowyn," he croaked. "Well, I must say that this is hardly my finest hour."

She smiled and shook her head, despite herself. "Let's get out of here."

Faramir nodded and slumped back against the wall. She searched her key ring for the keys to the shackles, trying several until she finally found the right one. He fell to the floor, grunting in pain.

"Thy legs. Can you walk?" she asked.

"In a moment," he replied, waving his hand. "They must regain their strength."

He set about rubbing his legs, taking hard breaths as he straightened them.

She watched him, sword still drawn. She glanced around the room every so often, her ears tuned to the footfalls of anyone who might approach. She hoped that her legion was cleaning up back above. They needed to get Faramir out of here and escape.

"To Lord Legolas!" Erchirion yelled, drawing his sword and urging his horse onward. On patrol looking for any sign of his cousin Faramir, the prince of Dol Amroth discovered tracks leading up into the hills and followed. Winding their way upwards, they heard the sounds of fighting and quickened their pace. Arriving at the dark castle, he saw Legolas and his Elves picking off defenders stationed above on the ramparts. Acting quickly, he ordered his Swan Knights to assist.

The reinforcements helped the Elves keep the enemy pinned down, while a smaller force moved to the gate. They had no battering ram or siege weapons with them, but their superior numbers allowed them to clear the defence enough to take the gate house. The large wooden ramp came tumbling down, and the Swan Knights led the charge inside, clubbing and vaulting soldiers out of their way as the horses galloped forward.

Legolas found the inside of the fortress surprisingly empty. He followed the sounds of combat up the levels until he reached Éowyn's legion. They were dealing with the last of the enemy, how had barricaded themselves into a courtyard.

"I'll deal with these," Erchirion assured him. "Go and find Faramir!"

Legolas nodded and took some of Éowyn's group with him. They informed their Lord that the White Lady had gone into the Keep and had not emerged.

Legolas ran faster.

"We have her now."

"Patience. There is a plan that must be followed."

"She is alone and vulnerable. I say we take our revenge at this moment! Let her husband find her broken body!"

"Calm thyself at once! We mean to possess her, not kill her!"

"The Elves are inside the Keep! We must make haste."

"A moment longer is all that I require."

The palantir flashed with light as the wizard's hand stretched across it. The group began murmuring in an ancient tongue, the image of Éowyn in the dungeon visible through the mist.

"A bit longer. The feeling is returning," Faramir advised, nodding his head as he kept rubbing his legs. "They carried me everywhere. Didn't let me walk on my own."

Éowyn nodded. She could not imagine the horrors that he must have been through as a prisoner. Her eyes moved to the stone wall and the shackles hanging from them. They were heavy and thick, strong enough to even withstand a blow from Gimli's axe, she expected. Once locked, it would be impossible to break free without aid.

She blinked as her mind seemed to cloud for a moment, imagining herself held captive in such a place. Her breath caught at the suggestion. Naked. Bound. Helpless. What torture would the enemy subject her to? She heard tales of lashings, beatings, breaking fingers and burning flesh to compel a prisoner to talk. These Easterlings were different, though. They had a reputation for the dark arts, manipulating a captive's mind, preying on the weakness of Men to extract secrets, or worse, enslave.

Her throat felt dry. She was shackled to the wall, her armour torn away, her clothes destroyed. Henchmen surrounded her, naked as she was, their skin as rough as leather. She yelled and screamed in protest, kicking and flailing her legs, but it was no use. She was overpowered easily, her thighs spread, her breasts mauled, her body plundered by each of them over and over, sometimes two of them at once. Her voice left her, the screams burning her throat, replaced by animal noises, grunting and groaning. She forgot who she was, forgot her name, her House, her past. All that was left was the rapture, the feeling of being used, being defeated, surrendering to complete and total subjugation to her conquerors.

"Éowyn."

She blinked and looked away from the shackles. Her vision refocused and she glanced down at Faramir, who was reaching a hand up to her.

"I can go now," he nodded.

She swallowed and took his hand, helping him to his feet. He stumbled at first, but soon was able to walk, albeit with a slight limp. Going ahead of him, she led him out of the dungeon and back down the hall. As they moved further away from the chamber, her head seemed to clear, the weight on her shoulders lighten. When she helped him up the stairs, she felt much more like herself again.

"Éowyn!"

Relief flooded her as Legolas came running over with some of their soldiers. Faramir was given over to the Elves. He seemed to use the last of his strength to get back to the surface, so they picked him up and carried him back out. Éowyn hugged Legolas fiercely, pressing her body against his.

"There are some last defenders," he informed her. "Erchirion is outside. We should go. Who knows what other forces might be making their way here?"

"Aye," she agreed, hugging him again before stepping back. "Lead on, my Lord."

Arod and Windfola were waiting for them when they emerged. Faramir was taken by the Swan Knights.

"I would return to search this place further," Erchirion noted, glancing around suspiciously. "There is more here than just a fort."

"Aye, though it can be left to first light tomorrow," Legolas replied. "I would not have our forces caught here at nightfall."

Two horns sounded – an Elven one for South Ithilien, and another for Dol Amroth – and the combined forces rode out, Faramir safely in their midst.

Ruins of Annúminas, Arnor, Fourth Age, Nínui, 2

There was much rejoicing upon their return. Though no one wished to admit it, there were some thoughts that Faramir had been lost to them forever. Recovering him alive was a great victory, and a feast was hastily put together, more for the riders to regain their strength than anything, but Faramir revelled in it all the same. Aragorn and Éomer were pleased for the successful mission, and a brief moment of silence was held for those lost in the attack on the fortress. With the Prince of Ithilien back, all was well.

The time to discuss what had happened to Faramir and what he had seen of the enemy would come. For now, he was given good food and drink, and to avoid talk of his capture, they spoke of rebuilding and expansion, the work that would be done to return Fornost, Annúminas and the North-kingdom to its former glory.

"He seems in one piece at least," Amrothos noted, looking across the table to his cousin, who was smiling and speaking to the King.

"He will need time to heal," Elphir remarked, before turning to his younger brother. "How did he seem to thee on the ride back?"

"Wounded, tired," Erchirion answered, his eyes wandering from Faramir to Lady Éowyn, who was laughing and seeming to flirt with her husband. "I do not know how much of his ordeal he shall recall. It would surely not be an experience to be remembered."

"All the same, he should be questioned," Elphir noted. "I would see this castle in the hills."

"I intend to go back at first light with a larger force," Erchirion confirmed. "We had no time to search the place thoroughly. The garrison was decimated. I expect they shall not be back."

"All the same, we shall take our knights and scour the place," Elphir nodded. "Dol Amroth shall lead the pursuit, should the enemy remain."

The brothers raised their mugs to each other in agreement, visions of conquest and triumph filling their heads. The campaign had thus far been a great success, but with Gondor and Rohan turning their efforts to rebuilding the ruined cities, there was opportunity for the Swan Knights to distinguish themselves.

"Let us retire," Éowyn teased, her eyes twinkling at her husband playfully. "I wish to celebrate the day's achievements."

Legolas smirked and leaned in closer, lowering his voice so only his wife could hear. "To leave a feast so soon would be considered improper, my Lady. Thy brother the King would surely not approve."

She shrugged, smiling mischievously at him. "Better that my dear brother thinks me rude for leaving too soon. It would be far worse if he was to know my wanton thoughts at the moment."

He grinned. "Wanton, they are?"

She nodded. "Wanton and depraved, husband. I have felt the battle lust this day. Does my Lord not feel the same?"

He quirked his eyebrows at her. "Always, my love."

Her face lit up. "My duty is to thee, my Lord. My husband demands to be sated."

He took a long drink from his mug, keeping his eyes upon her. "Very well. You may give our regrets."

She took a pull of her ale, licking her lips at the sweet taste. After several more minutes, she easily turned and touched her brother's arm.

"My Lord wishes to retire," she declared, drawing the attention of Aragorn and Éomer. "Tomorrow we may talk further of what was discovered and our way forward. For this evening, we bid you good night, my Kings."

Éomer looked at her curiously and opened his mouth to say something. At her knowing stare, he relented, glancing over at Aragorn sheepishly before nodding to his sister.

"Very well, sister. Good evening, and to thee, brother," Éomer said curtly, nodding to Legolas.

The Elven Prince and his Lady rose gracefully from the table. They nodded to Prince Imrahil and others before she took his arm and he escorted her away. Though they had barely washed before the feast, and were still wearing their armour, no couple appeared more majestic and beautiful to the eyes of the assembled guests.

With the city still in ruins, the various factions of the Host of the West made camp where they could. There were few buildings left standing, and many of them were unsafe, meaning large tent villages were put up around the grounds. The air was cold, though there was no snow. Fires were lit all across the fields, and there was singing and dancing here and there, the Host still celebrating the return of Faramir and another defeat of the enemy.

Upon reaching their large white tent, Éowyn slipped inside and sighed as the strains of the day melted from her. She pulled at the strings of her armour, casually discarding each piece into a corner.

Legolas fetched wine and brought it to her. The tent was easily large enough for them to stand up in, and the floor was lined with furs. Embers burned in the fire pit for warmth, though they were not lit fully, so as to avoid smoke.

They undressed slowly, watching each other, keeping their hands to themselves. The wine on her tongue and the vision of her husband's strong form stirred her arousal. Her blood was pulsing strongly through her veins, her body seemingly more excited than during battle earlier.

He stepped towards her and took her face in his hand. Smiling up at him, she parted her lips when he leaned and kissed him, her tongue swiping across his mouth until he reached out and seized her lips with his own. Her arms went around him, her eyes closing, savouring the feel of him, the taut muscle and smooth skin. He was flawless, perfect, the most incredible male specimen she had ever touched or seen, and he was all hers. The very thought thrilled her.

"Legolas," she breathed between kisses, bringing him down to the furs below.

"Mmm, Éowyn, my love," he replied, smiling as his hands roamed across her naked body.

"Take me," she moaned, her arms leaving his shoulders and falling above her head.

He growled, his hand reach up and taking hold of her wrists, crossing her hands together and pinning them to the floor. She flexed her fingers, unable to move from his strong grip. He nudged her legs apart, settling over her, his hips moving into position.

"Oh, Legolas!" she sighed, raising her legs and opening herself to him fully. He thrust inside of her slowly and easily, her heated core welcoming him until he was completely sheathed. She closed her eyes and arched her back, writhing at the delicious feeling of being completely covered and possessed by him.

He soon found a fierce rhythm, pounding into her again and again. He was always more aggressive after battle, and the way he kept her arms trapped and pushed his hips against hers with each plunge made her drunk with lust. She kept her legs spread, her breasts rubbing against his chest delightfully as he moved on her. His warm breath was on her face, his lips caressing the skin of her neck, her shoulder, her face, marking her with his kiss. He was like a god to her, a powerful being sent from the Heavens themselves, and he had chosen her as his mate, his consort, his prize. She revelled in the feeling of belonging to him, submitting to his passion, his strength. She moaned and gasped and hummed in complete rapture.

Her first release rushed upon her and she cried out in pleasure, allowing the sheer bliss to wash over her as her skin flushed and she clenched around him. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, his gaze fiery and dominant.

"Turn me over, my love," she whispered. "Turn me over and have me like a beast."

His rhythm faltered slightly before he sat up, his hands taking hold of her legs and massaging them with his fingers.

She whimpered and turned over on to her front, bringing her knees under her and raising herself to his hungry eyes. She bent down, turning her face against the soft fur so she could look back at him. Bringing her hands behind her back, she linked her wrists together and moaned when he took hold of them in one hand.

"Legolas!" she called, rocking back and forth as he entered her. She closed her eyes again, feeling him getting so deep this way. The sounds of their bodies moving together filled her ears, blending with her own moans of desire. Without realizing it, her mind took her back to the dungeon at the castle in the hills. She was shackled once more, this time facing the wall, bent over like a common whore. She could not see anything, but she felt her master behind her, ravishing her, taking his pleasure from her body, using her as she deserved. The image in her mind set off another release, and her husband's fierce thrusts only added to her joy. She didn't know where she was, or even who she was with. All that she felt was the pleasure, the feeling of being filled and controlled and owned, and she loved it all.

"Éowyn," Legolas called. "Éowyn, I love you so much."

She blinked at the sound of his voice. All thoughts were forgotten as she opened her eyes and looked back at him. He released her hands and she brought her arms forward, raising herself up to all fours, arching her back and taking him deep.

"Legolas," she gasped, looking back and finding his eyes. "Take me! Take me, my love!"

She pushed back against him, something within her unleashed. She was with her loving husband, an Elf, but a male who loved and respected her more than any other. The one who had courted her during War, ignoring his people's traditions and asking her to be his wife, pledging himself to her, a mortal. She was his Queen, in every sense, a ruler at his side in their forest realm, a warrior and commander of their shared armies. She felt free and strong, never again to be caged or held back. His love was the most precious thing she knew.

"Éowyn," he snarled, his hands reaching forward and cupping her breasts as he continued to take her, the feel of his fingers on her sensitive flesh driving her towards yet another peak.

She moaned in response, every thrust driving her mad. Her hands clawed at the furs, grabbing hold to steady herself beneath his fury. He moved even faster, and she fell apart for a third time, calling out his name and throwing her head back as heat flew through her very pores.

He raised her up and brought her back against him, his arms circling her, keeping her seated in his lap as he drove against her. He roared and she felt his seed fill her, the warmth of his essence almost setting her off again. They shook in each other's arms, staying like that as their mingled breaths calmed.

"Beautiful Éowyn," he said softly, kissing the top of her head.

She smiled and brought his hand to her lips. "My Lord."

He moved them down to the furs, spreading out and stretching his legs, keeping her in his embrace.

"Good night, my love," he whispered.

She laughed. "My Lord, sleep is on thy mind already?"

He blinked. "Nay. I merely thought."

She pulled out of his grasp and sat up. Turning around, she swept her long blonde hair away from her face and smirked at his firm arousal. "I am not yet tired, nor finished with thee, my Lord."

He smiled as she pushed him on to his back and kissed her way down his stomach, eventually taking him in her mouth. A jolt of arousal filled her as he responded immediately to her attentions.

Faramir shook, his face cringing in a fierce grimace. His lips moved, though no sound came out. His eyes were shut tight, the pillow soaked with sweat.

'You are Faramir, Steward of Gondor, Lord of Emyn Arnen, a Captain in the Gondorian Army.'

His mind was full of dark clouds, shadows and shapes that were indecipherable and constantly changing. He could not tell where he was. All he could sense was the voice.

'You rode to Arnor as part of the Host of King Elessar, to retake the Northern Kingdom for Gondor. The Host contains the forces of Gondor, Rohan, Dol Amroth and Ithilien. The Kings of Men – Elessar and Éomer – and Prince Imrahil and his sons are here.'

He saw Minas Tirith and Edoras, Emyn Arnen and Dol Amroth. The gleaming cities of Men were shining in his imagination beneath blue, sunny skies.

'There is another, a woman. She is dear to thee. Her name is Éowyn, and you desire her.'

The clouds came, darkening the sky, turning it all a fierce red. The cities became engulfed in flames, burning to the ground.

'You wish to take her for your own. Once our plans are complete, she will be yours.'

The cities became ash, and he was gone and far away from Gondor, from Rohan, from Ithilien. He was somewhere else – a foreign land – in a vast room. Turning around, he saw her.

'She will bow before you, obey your every command, fulfill your every desire. She will be your wife and Lady, reigning at your side. She will be your eager whore, refusing you nothing and submitting to your will always.'

Éowyn smiled and bowed her head to him. Her white gown was gleaming and elegant. The diamond circlet looked regal in her hair. He approached her and she beckoned him forward with her eyes, her smile, her demure posture.

'Once our plans are complete, she will be yours. You will go back to your army and play your role.'

A smile crossed his lips, his body calming. He took a deep breath and fell deeply into slumber, the last part of his dream that he would forget in the morning the sight of Éowyn removing her gown for him.

Hills of Evendim, Arnor, Fourth Age, Nínui, 2

"Several legions have been spotted on the trail leading to the castle. They have returned to investigate."

"Allow them through. The fortress is of no further use to us."

"Are you certain that the Captain and the White Lady have been turned?"

"He more than she, for now. The Elf's presence continues to protect her, and keep our influence at bay."

"It is temporary. She has begun."

"Draw the forces back. We will move under cover of darkness to the tower and wait."

"Wait for what?"

"For the Captain to prove his worth."