-Mae Govannen dear readers! Welcome to my next story; Faith Albeit Fading. This story will stand completely apart from others I have written so far. I will do my best to keep as true to J.R.R. Tolkien, but I fear I cannot promise anything. Feel free to correct me if something does not seem correct. Going on, I had this idea of a slave fic, and wished to try out. I could not find a lot about fading elves so I am simply going to make up something, so be warned!
As for disclaimer, I do not own anything related to the works of J.R.R. Tolkien and I do not make any money with it. I have written this just for my own pleasure (and improvement of my writing skills) and shared it with you for yours.
Do I need to mention anything else? Enjoy!-
Faith Albeit Fading: Prologue
Aragorn let out a soft sigh. Today was just another day of boring meetings... He barely listened as two councillors bickered back and forth about a subject he did not care about that much. He almost ran out of the room when it was finally time for lunch. He met Arwen in the small garden where they usually ate if the weather allowed it. Being stuck inside all day long made Aragorn crave for the fresh wind to blow his hair around, or hearing the bird sing. Alas, he was not Strider the ranger of the North anymore, now he was Elessar King of Gondor and Arnor.
"Good afternoon, meleth-nín." Aragorn smiled as he softly kissed Arwen and caressed Eldarion's cheek.
"How was the council?" Arwen asked as she sat down.
"As useless as ever." Aragorn shrugged. He smiled as Eldarion happily babbled away.
"At least someone is having an interesting conversation." Faramir smiled as he sat down with a sigh.
"Was it that bad?" Arwen softly bounced the almost two-year-old.
"Believe me as I say that I am looking forward to read the reports from the captains." The steward of Gondor said with a weary smile.
"Then let us at least enjoy the sun and nice weather for as long as we can." Both men happily agreed as they started eating.
"Up to the audience." Aragorn said when they had finished eating. Eldarion had lifted his spirit quite a bit. He slowly trailed along the white corridors on his way the hall of the Stewards. King Elessar sat on his throne and watched as the hall slowly filled with people that wanted to speak with him. Sometimes it made him wonder why he had to be the only, well now not the only anymore, living heir to the throne of Gondor. Now he had to solve simple problems for basically simple people. How he sometimes wished his life could be simple. Alas, they also needed people to do the not simple tasks.
Aragorn was well past the half of the people that he collected at the start of the afternoon when with a bang someone burst into the hall.
"What is the meaning of this?" Aragorn asked as he watched a soldier push through the crowd, panting heavily.
"My Lord..." The soldier asked as he dropped on one knee. "My apologies for the intrusion. Captain Beregrond send me. He- we found..." Aragorn watched the clearly distressed soldier. "He requested for your immediate presence." Aragorn also knew that Beregrond would not call for him if he really thought necessary.
"Go back to your captain. I will be there as soon as I can." Aragorn said.
"Thank you, my king." The soldier stood and bowed before he hurried back to his captain.
Aragorn turned to the man in front of him. "I think you should let your son choose with whom he wishes to share his life. If I remember correctly you have two other sons. I am sure when they have to choose one of them will succeed you." Aragorn advised the man.
"Thank you, my king." The man bowed before he made place for the next one.
"I fear the others will need to wait until the next time. It appears I have a more pressing need to be elsewhere. If you will excuse me." Aragorn stood and quickly left the hall. He was not sure if he had to be worried or be grateful to be called away. He quickly exchanged his crown for a cloak with a large hood before he fled the palace. Quickly and silently he crept through the streets of Minas Tirth. His only dislike of the city besides its crowdedness, was that it took him at least half an hour to get from the gate to the citadel, or the other way around. When he finally neared the gate, he stepped out of the shadows as he watched a small party of guards which surrounded two small wagons. He noticed that two guards held a finely dressed man of middle-aged age.
Not far away there stood two other men. They were completely bare instead of a small cloth that was bound around their middles to hide their private parts. They were thin, but not underfed as they seemed to have some muscles. They had only a little amount of hair covering their heads, and what seemed a nasty patterned burn mark on their upper arms. All bells in his head screamed at him 'slave trade'.
"My liege?" Beregrond softly questioned at the hooded man, he had noticed a couple of moments prior. Aragorn threw back his hood as he joined the party.
"Explain yourself." Aragorn demanded.
"I am but a humble merchant." The man in the fine clothes spoke in heavily accented Westron.
"What do you trade, or sell?" Aragorn asked. It was very obvious what it was, but he could never guess what excuse the man came up with him.
"I am helping these servants finding a home." Aragorn repressed a snort. That was quite a nice way to say that.
"Now many already found a home?"
"Only three, so far. Are you interested in a servant?"
"I have many, that are treated like humans, and not objects." Aragorn said, while he tried to keep his anger in check. "Lock him up. I will return later to ask some more questions. I know enough for now." The man protested as he was dragged away by the two guards.
"What do you want me to do with them?" Beregrond asked, hinting to the two wagons with at least four more slaves.
"Bring all of them to the Houses of Healing. I will see to them in there." Aragorn nodded.
"And the two there?"
"Also bring them. They all shall be free men when they are well."
"Aye, my lord." Beregrond saluted and Aragorn already started to make his way to the Houses of Healing. Once arrived in the Houses of Healing, Aragorn changed in a clean white tunic and trousers. Arwen would kill him if he ruined yet another good set of clothing. Beregrond entered moments later with the healthier looking slaves. He gently nudged them inside.
"Over here." Aragorn waved in the darkened halls. In a corner two healers were already preparing several beds.
"I will go and see to the others." Beregrond said before he left the two slaves alone with the healers.
"Would you tell me your name?" Aragorn asked as he led them over to the beds.
"Slave." They both softly replied.
"No other name?" Aragorn frowned. Both shook their heads.
"No, Master." They replied.
"Sit, then we shall see to your injuries." Aragorn frowned even more as the two of them knelled at the floor, in front of his feet.
"What are they doing?" One of the younger healers asked as he put down a basin of hand warm water.
"Probably what they were taught to do." Aragorn replied.
"My lord?" Beregrond's voice penetrated his mind.
"Yes?" He asked as he turned.
"I think..." Beregrond swallowed. "That you need to see something..."
"See if you can get them on the bed." He instructed the young healer called Delion.
"Will do, your majesty." Delion replied as he tried to gain attention of the still knelling slaves.
"What is it, Beregrond?" Aragorn asked as he followed the captain out of the Houses of Healing. Four scrawny looking men stood next to each other, looking highly uncomfortable. All four of them were dirty and smelled. One of them was bald while all the other three had long hair plastered over their skin. It also appeared they were completely naked.
"There is still one in the wagon. I thought it to be an elf. He seems vaguely familiar to me. Maybe you recognize him. He had not moved at my attempts to get him out."
"We shall know soon enough." Aragorn said. "Go and get each of them a towel, so they at least can cover themselves up." He ordered one of the soldiers that stood nearby. Aragorn had seen many filthy places as ranger, but this would probably be number one. He wrinkled his nose before he crawled into the wagon. In the corner of the wagon sat a figure all huddled up in himself. The slave had his legs pressed up against his chest while he almost pressed his knees in his eyes. His skin was all filthy with the Valar knows what. There was only little filthy hair on his head, but the pointy ears were very clear to see. This was without doubt an elf. Aragorn slowly reached out for the elf's calve. He had barely made contact when the elf violently flinched. Aragorn quickly took his hand back. He had never meant to do that.
"Hello there." He softly spoke, hoping not to scare the elf any further. When nothing happened, Aragorn decided that the Sindarin would be a good option. Maybe the elf did not understand the Westron language. There were many these days that did not care to learn the language of men. They had no use for it anyway.
"Mae govannen, mellon..." Aragorn's eyes grew big as the elf covered his ears like he had heard the vile language of the orcs. That was even worse than trying to touch the elf. He elf let out a small whimper as he started to shake.
"Nay, please." He could hear the elf mutter.
"I mean you no harm." Aragorn softly said as he moved closer. Sindarin was not a better option then. "Please, come out of the wagon." The elf did not move, but kept his ears covered. "I will set you free once you are healed. I do not know why they did this to you, but they will pay. No one deserves this." Aragorn softly spoke, but it seemed to do little for the distressed elf. After several failed attempts to call the attention of the elf without making him flinch, he decided there was one way he had not tried.
"Nay, please." The elf kept muttering as he softly rocked himself, like Aragorn was not there at all.
"Slave." He softly called. He really did not want to, and yet they gave him no choice. Ever so slowly the elf lifted his head. Those blue eyes! He would recognized them everywhere. "It cannot be." Aragorn gaped at the figure before him. His beautiful eyes looked dull and unfocused. If he had not been trembling, Aragorn would have guessed he was asleep. His face was shallow, almost like a ghost. He was sure beneath all the layers of filth he would find the fair skin again. How was this possible? All kind of questions flooded his mind.
-Well? Tell me what you think about this. Has this potential for a good story?-
Dictionary:
Mae Govannen - Well met
Meleth-nín - My love
Mellon - Friend