Disclaimer and A/N: A fic taken completely from the Appendices at the end of RotK (and some of HoME) Whatever you are unable to recognize as coming from professor Tolkien, it comes from me. This is the story of how Arvedui (last king of Arthedain) and Fíriel "decided" to get married. And, did you think they did not have arranged marriages on ME? Read and find out how it all goes for them. Any comments or feedback of any kind is highly appreciated. Thanks a lot for reading, and hope you enjoy!
ALLIANCE
Chapter One: Messages
"Good day, my lord," Haldad bowed as he passed. " 'Tis a bright morning, isn't it? I trust you had a fine evening."
Arvedui caught the mischievous glint in the old councilor's eyes, and could not but smile. "Aye, my good Haldad. After the storm comes the sun, is it not what they say? And very glad that today the sun shines as bright as ever. Last night was a... nightmare."
"Indeed!" Haldad laughed. "It may well be said that we deserved this gift. Although," he lowered his voice and cocked his head, "there are some who may argue that this is not a time for humour or light-heartedness. I am not of like mind, and I hope you do not take offense in that regard, but I feel that as long as hearts remain glad, minds remain clear, and since our present situation cannot bring gladness, at least light-heartedness should be attempted by any such means as can be resorted to. Do you not agree?"
"I do," he sighed. "And, of course, I do not take offense. I thank you for your endeavors on our behalf; we were rather grim last night, were we not?" Arvedui's smile nearly disappeared, and only a wistful expression remained on the fair countenance. "Nay, our situation does not bring gladness, and I wonder whether we will ever know what gladness means again."
"Speak not so, lord." Haldad placed a hand on Arvedui's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "As long as life remains, hope endures; is it not what they say? Do not ever lose hope, for then your life is in grave peril. Come now, wipe that frown off your face! Do not let any thought of last night's council trouble you; things were wont to go that way, as you well know."
"Yes, I know! But, still-" He walked away from Haldad and leaned over one of the wide windows of the palace. Sun rays came slanting in, caressing his face with their warmth. He was glad to see the sky was not clouded; the prospect of a ride was highly appealing, although he doubted that he would be able to escape the days' duties as they currently stood. He frowned. Recollections of the council served only to anger him, and he hoped to be calm when answering to his father's summons. He expected some sort of rebuke, for Araphant knew his son well, and was sure to have noticed the strain he went under while he listened to all the lords discussing fateful plans for their future, plans that would only manage their destruction, as it were! He had spoken in earnest against such things, which had only earned him glares and scowls, and, at the end, decided it was better to remain silent than die afore-time by the blows those hard looks inflicted upon him and his father. "If one says too much, it is considered disrespectful to the wisdom of others; but, if one says too little, it is also considered a disrespect, and even a challenge to their authority! Forgive me, Haldad, it is painful enough to have always burdened you with my cares, but I must say that the more I see of people, the less I understand them. Had I only been allowed to speak my mind last night!" He sighed, and gripped the wooden railing so tightly that for a moment it seemed that it would be snapped in two. "What use is there in training me, if they will not listen to any advice I give?"
He became suddenly aware that he had been raising his voice as he heard his words repeated many times along the deserted corridors, and pursed his lips. He breathed deep, and pressed his fist against the wall. "Forgive me; I am not myself. I cannot afford to speak thus; I must-"
"It is well. There is no need to apologize to me, lad," Haldad said, forgetting for a moment that the Arvedui standing in front of him now, was not the lad who used to break into his study, and grab the books out of his library to read while his father was away, or the one who questioned him incessantly about politics and philosophy, only to disagree with every argument he proposed. "You must have been wroth. 'Tis not like you to be rash or untempered, most of all when speaking to the lords. It was not prudent. Diplomacy must be maintained and practiced above all things else when you are a king."
"But I am not yet a king, and doubt I will ever live to become one if our war strategies do not change, or if we do not receive better support from those who can give it." Arvedui's voice dripped bitterness. He turned and looked fully at Haldad. "They do not understand what they have not seen. When I spoke last night, all I hoped was to provide a picture of what our straits are like. I may have been harsh and scornful, and surely some people were offended by it. But, believe me," Arvedui narrowed his gaze, "those things I described do not even represent half of what we have suffered! Let them be angered, if they may. Nothing can be done about it now."
"When your time comes," Haldad began, his voice more grave than usual, "you will find that the good-will of the people is not only secured by lineage. A king remains on his throne through politics."
"Indeed, but if we suffer these 'politics' to endure a while longer, there might be no kingdom left to rule." His words carried a sting that was seldom found in them. Arvedui lowered his gaze, and sought to calm the quick rhythm of his breathing that had gradually increased as he spoke. He felt his face burning, and thought he may have blushed; an odd trait that he had long sought to vanquish -to no avail. He swallowed hard, "You must understand that those men at the council last night are not fighters. They live in the comfort of their homes and know little of the perils that soldiers must face in the wild. I will not endanger my men solely to indulge-"
"Arvedui," Haldad interrupted; his voice was stern, but it was softened by the expression of his eyes. "It is long since you have become a full man, and one man whom I admire and respect, as do many, many others throughout this kingdom; and, you are very much past your age for being tutored by one such as I, friendship or no, but, I would like to say a thing or two, if I may."
Arvedui, smiled, if slightly and without mirth. Haldad had been one constant friend to his father, and had been so to himself. He had taught, comforted, even scolded him as a child; and had counseled, befriended, and listened to him as an adult. He breathed deep, and nodded.
"People get desperate; tempers rise, tongues losen... It is all wont to happen among those who are not used to the discipline of a soldier, or even, to life at court. Wild schemes and heated arguments can be excused from such people, but they are not easily forgiven in a king, or prince." Arvedui leaned forward and opened his mouth to say something, but just as suddenly decided against it, and rested his head against the wall. Haldad continued, "I know you have long known this, wherefore, I am even more surprised by last night's behaviour."
"You do not think, then, that there was reason behind my words?" Arvedui asked, "Would you side with such a plan as was proposed by Melendil? We cannot afford to move the troops from the road, you well know that. He only wishes to have the armies travel south so he will be better deffended against a few mercenaries. No!" He tightened his fists. "We will not protect Melendil at the expense of one or two armies; not to mention the risk of leaving the road passes unmanned. There are other ways to-"
"It is not to your strategy that I object to, Arvedui, it is to the lack of prudence shown in proposing it! Of course I am well aware of Melendil's folly. He is a greedy old man, and has managed to sway a few other lords into his own desires; but, even he would be justified in fearing for his land in such a time as this, and wishing to protect it. He is entitled to it."
Haldad fell silent for a moment, in which he studied Arvedui intently, trying to discover how the young man had interpreted his words. He saw Araphant's heir shift uncomfortably where he stood, run a hand over his hair, sigh, and then look straight at him. From his long knowledge of young Arvedui's habits, he knew that when he looked at someone straight to the eyes, it meant that he was seeking truth behind the words. He nodded, and continued, "Your father will not be too pleased if he hears I have told you this, but I must admire your performance last night, even though I cannot commend it. You spoke as one who is sure of himself and confident about his own knowlege and abilities, and that is an attitude that will win you the hearts of many. People look up to leaders who will be strong and remain brave in the face of danger, and who will be swift to act and slow to repent later. But, to do that, it takes long practice and... guts."
This did not fail to bring a smile to Arvedui's mouth. "To do what, remain brave in the face of danger, or to be swift to act and slow to repent later? Methinks the latter is harder achieved than the first."
"I knew you would think so," Haldad remarked, seizing the shift in the young man's mood. "I know you to be just and kind, Arvedui. And, I also know you to be patient. 'Tis not like you to be quick-tempered, and much more so in the face of men of Melendil's like. I saw some brows raised last night; you must be prepared, for some may consider your behavior... immature."
"Immature!" Arvedui laughed, but grimly. "They are justified, for such rashness as I showed cannot be construed otherwise. Something happened to me as I sat on that room, before all the lords. It angered me to see how little they knew about our losses or efforts, how disdainfully they considered all our endeavours in their behalf. It felt as though they believed this war was one easy campaign and we had been neglectful of their protection.
In truth, I do not know what seized me-"
"Oh, I do." Haldad needed not pursue the train of his words before Arvedui shot him a knowing, painful glance that lingered a while on his face ere it fell on the load of papers he still carried in his aged, yet strong hands. Most of the scrolls were sealed with white wax, as was the custom regarding military decrees; surely, Araphant had approved the withdrawal of troops from the easternmost pass as had been decided at the council. Arvedui muttered a few words, and frowned, unable to conceal his dislike at the turn of strategies, when his eyes caught a scroll of brown parchment carefully tied with red ribbon, all secured by a blot of red wax that exhibited the sign of the two serpents and the crown of golden flowers, the king's own mark. His eyes widened.
"A very important thing you carry there, Haldad," he said, attempting to hide, or perhaps to mitigate, his own interest in the scroll. Only when it was a matter of extreme urgency or significance did the king engrave his seal in red wax. "A message from my father, as I see. To whom, if I may ask?"
Haldad's countenance stiffened, and only the constant dilating of his nostrils betrayed that he still breathed. He gripped the papers tightly against him, as if unwilling to let any information slip. Slowly, the lines around his eyes began to relax, and his mouth twisted into a feigned half-smile. "The king has said no word of this to you?"
"Should he?" Arvedui asked, unable to hide the note of curiosity behind his words.
"Well," Haldad hesitated, "Well, I thought he already had. I- I suppose he will speak of it soon enough."
"Will he?" the prince eyed Haldad suspiciously. What was this important piece of information that his father had forgotten to share with him? It could be anything from warfare strategies to requests for protection from any of the east or southern settlements. It could well be about the new regulations for soldier training and recruiting policies, or mayhap it was the king's granted permission for him to return to his men at Amon Sul. How he longed to be back with them! It could be anything. But, whatever it was, it was sure to produce a shocking, or at least, a deep impression on himself, judging from the councilor's blunt answers and secretive behaviour.
"He will," Haldad said. "I believe, now, that he expects you. Is that whence you go?"
"Indeed. He has already sent for me. Did you not know that?" Arvedui asked, looking fully at him.
Haldad held Arvedui's gaze for a few seconds, but said no word. At last, he put his hand on the prince's shoulder and squeezed it tightly. "Very well, then. We will all do as we are supossed to do, won't we? I will go and distribute these," he looked down at the decrees and scrolls, "and you will go in and meet your father. Now remember, my young lord, that your people will look up to you no matter what, and know that all these years of training and preparation have not been in vain. Remember that."
Haldad gave him a final pat on the shoulder and sauntered away, leaving Arvedui with an odd sensation of misgiving, and wondering whether his old friend had only spoken of matters such as decrees and interviews or if he had, indeed, meant to speak about other things that Arvedui had not grasped, or did not understand. He breathed deep and looked once more out of the window where the world seemed to be peacefully oblivious of peril or doom. The prospect of a good, long ride seemed highly appealing... but it would have to wait. He turned his face from the window and his mind from any thoughts of pleasant rides and peaceful days, and advanced through the corridor, anticipating his encounter with the king.
The king's heir knocked at the door and waited impatiently for what seemed an age, until he heard a muffled voice from within, very familiar in its cadence and pitch. "Come in."
Arvedui stepped inside his father's domain, and as his eyes grew accustomed to the dimmer lights in this room, he was able to see around him things that distinguished his father from other men of his kind. There were books and scrolls scattered carelessly about; there were paintings and sketches adorning the walls, some of which Arvedui had made for him while still a child, for his father was a great admirer of art of any sort; there were maps, piles and piles of maps that lay over the tables, chairs, and some were even resting on the floor. On a small pedestal by the window, Arvedui beheld a vase with fresh-cut lillies of the same kind his mother used to bring to the king while she was alive. Leaning upon the table was his father, the sleeves of his shirt rolled upwards as if he were conducting a task which required great exertion; perhaps he was.
"Close the door," Araphant said without even bestowing a look on his son. He mumbled a few things that did not make their way to Arvedui's ears, drew a few things on a piece of parchment, flipped through the pages of an old book, and mumbled again.
"Good day, my lord," Arvedui said, clearing his throat.
A long silence followed, after which Araphant turned to him, and nodded. "Good day, Arvedui. I have been expecting you."
"Indeed. I was detained by Haldad as I came. Please, forgive any delay if you were made to wait for longer than was needful." Arvedui was intrigued by the sudden look his father gave him; it was scrutinizing, very sharp and piercing, and one that he had seldom seen on that countenance before.
"He... spoke to you?"
"A few words in passing," Arvedui cocked his head, "He had other business to see to, and you were waiting."
"Ah, yes," the king said, turning his eyes to the book again. "Please, do take a seat. The hour grows late and many matters await my consideration. This will hopefully not take long." There was a certain tinge to the voice that implied familiarity in command, an awareness that his demands should be met; the king was not the king at this moment, but a father.
Arvedui walked toward his favorite spot in the whole of his father's study: a tall chair made of black leather that was placed right between the window and a wide bookshelf. He placed both his hands on the armrests and started to trace the contours of the abstract designs carved on the leather. After a while, Araphant looked about him, as if searching for something.
"No, not there. Sit here by me," he said as he cleared a chair from the papers that were on top of it and moved it closer to the table. "Come now."
"Very well, Sire," Arvedui said as he sat, wondering all the time what his father could possibly want from him. The king appeared not to be as wroth as he had first expected, but was not in a good-humour altogether. There was a sort of studied carelesness in his manner that chafed Arvedui, and he also observed the tinge of determination to which his father so frequently resorted to, stubborness, perhaps, that alerted him that whatever would follow might not likely be a victory to himself.
"I take it you know this very well," the king said, pointing toward a map extended on the table in front of him. "Tell me what it is."
Arvedui looked down, and up again at his father, puzzled. "It is a diagram that outlines the movements of our troops during the past month."
"Take a good look at it."
"I know it by heart," Arvedui added slowly and sternly, "upside down."
"Very well, Sir," Araphant smiled, as he filled his cup with water from a pitcher. He drank no wine while he worked. "Very well. Now, as I have no doubt that you have studied this map even more carefully than I have myself, I would ask you to tell me what it is we have not tried so far. What have we not done?"
Arvedui narrowed his gaze. "What we have not done? I do not see-"
"Look at it!" Araphant commanded a bit more forcefully. The beautifully drawn map had annotations and markings all over it, with arrows indicating where troops had advanced or retreated, black dots to mark any settlements or camps, and brown dots to mark enemy strongholds or places of attack. "Look at this, and tell me what strategy have we not used, what movement have we not tried. I would that you told me, for you may know this better than most."
Arvedui was forced to look down, reviewing in his mind the movements of the troops and the military tactics that arnorian forces had used, some of which he had devised himself, re-living retreats and campaigns, and recollecting the great amount of information regarding these matters that took so much of his time and energy every day. He narrowed his gaze as his eyes roved over the surface of the map. A few names, facts, and annotations, very brief bits of information; that was what all became in the end. It angered him. "Perhaps you would like to be more specific about your question."
"You see the brown dots on this map," the king began. "There are many of those, far too many. Notice, too, the locations. Along the East-West road, following the Mitheithel and down into the Gwathló, up by the Ettenmoors, and over the North Downs." Arvedui followed the trail indicated by his father's finger over the map. "We have been cut off! We are being besieged!"
"Besieged!" Arvedui snapped.
"Not theoretically, for we are not yet completely surrounded, nor gathered into one single place of refuge, but we are being cornered. You can see as much here on this map. We have already been shut out from Imladris, and any communication with men from the north is impossible. Cardolan is already lost to us, and the only help we can rely on now comes from Círdan in Lindon."
Arvedui regarded his father for a moment. "You should not expect much from that quarter, my lord. Círdan will be bound to help Imladris; they are his kinsmen. We cannot ask for his help in preserving the Northern lands so long as Imladris remains in straits. Let us hope that they can hold the threat from the East at bay as we do our best to defend the North."
"You realize that they also count on us to keep the evil away from them. If we fail, the enemy will pour into their lands like hungry locusts on a wheat field. I think that they will try to help as much as they are able, if only for their own sakes."
"You purpose to send word to Círdan asking for help?"
"I know better than to ask for help at the expense of losing another ally. We need Imladris. I shall wait until we see results from the struggle in the East, and then will I ask for help. We cannot afford to lose both our arms on this war."
"We are crippled as it is. The enemy outnumbers us, and only the valour of our men has gained us what little victories we have been able to garner. Not enough against Angmar."
"That is why I have sent for you," Araphant said, pointing to the map with his finger. "Look again, and tell me what we have not done."
"I fail to see the point-" The prince was not only surprised at not hearing the rebuke he had anticipated, but also at the way in which his father was trying so intently to steer their conversation, deliberately and unsuccessfully seeking to make a point that as of yet made no sense to him.
"Think strategies. What strategies have we not tried yet?"
"With all due respect, my lord, there can be as many strategies as there are men. They can be devised and altered at will, resulting in different strategies and tactics. Forgive me, but the question you ask is an impossible one to answer."
"Tell me, Arvedui, what is the easiest way to break a siege?"
Arvedui raised a brow, and after some consideration, he said, "That depends upon many variables such as strength of the besieged and the besieger, duration of the attack, climatic considerations, geographical conditions..." Arvedui trailed off as he beheld his father unfasten the first button of his shirt. He wondered why the king was taking such great pains in leading his thoughts when he gave all signs of knowing his own answers all along. "One could first try to wear out the enemy and wait until they tire or grow out of provisions."
"Which is most unlikely given the time of year. Winter will not come for many months, which gives Angmar plenty of time to gather supplies to survive the cold. Nay," Araphant waved his hand, "waiting would not do. It may well wear us out, instead of them."
"Then one could try to give a final push from the inside out, gathering all strength that can be found and forcing the enemies to a rout. It holds great risks and possibilities of victory are reduced by half, but as long as there is a chance it must be seized. Angered men are better fighters than ambitious ones."
"Very true, but what happens if we fail? Not many men might be willing to take such a fateful chance. Some may rather wait... No, something else must be attempted. See this."
Araphant unrolled a scroll that contained a map of the Southern Kingdom, Gondor. It was marked in the same fashion as the map of his own lands, with brief remarks, estimates, and places of battles and camps. "All information we have received of the South by way of scouts, spies, travelers, soldiers, and... other means, we have compiled into this map. It tracks, as you can see, the movements of Gondor's military during the previous year. Do you see a pattern?"
The young prince had seen the map before. It portrayed the southern lands with the greatest accuracy that could be contrived with the information they had. He passed his fingers over it, lingering at whiles to read a few notes that marked battle sites, and stopping at the many brown dots that covered its surface, all around the main territory of Anárion's land.
"Cornered!" Arvedui widened his eyes as he observed his father's stern countenance.
"Indeed. And it is not just Gondor. Note Mirkwood there," he said, pointing to the great forest on the map. "There is a shadow in the woods that is feared and felt throughout all the surrounding lands. Men do not venture farther than is needful; the dwarves in the northern cities do not go into the forest and are reluctant to trade with the elves. The elves themselves-" he stopped, drawing his hand to his chin. "The threat must be too great if they would rather go away from the shadow instead of facing it. Something is amiss, Arvedui, and not just for us. Take Gondor as an example; see how their foes have mysteriously managed to surround them on almost every side! Wainriders and orcs to the East, Corsairs and Easterlings to their right, men of Harad to the South, and the North..."
"The North they cannot afford to lose," Arvedui said. "As much as we cannot afford to lose the South. Do you suppose that these attacks are not coincidential? If considered isolated as they have hitherto been, all the various threats appear to be of a different nature and driven by different purposes. But, regarded together, I cannot but think that there is a single hand leading these assaults." Arvedui paused for a moment to contemplate the full purport of the words he had just uttered. If the attacks they had suffered were led by one power alone, then who was he, and what was his purpose? If this was not determined, then they were placed in even greater straits than before. The thought sank his spirits.
"Alas, son, for that is also my thought." Araphant walked away from the table toward the window, and for a while remained silent, his eyes fixed on some point in the horizon that Arvedui could not determine. At length, he spoke again, and the prince noticed a startling shift in the king's mood. "So far you have pointed out very contrived ways to resist a siege, but have not told me the most obvious one. I must ask again, what would be the most efective way to break a siege, the one way that would ensure better results, the first thing you would think of."
"As I see no point in your reasonings, my lord, it would be hard for me to give and answer, but if you insist on knowing, the easiest way to break a siege must surely be to call for an ally to break through enemy lines from outside, as we do our part from within, so that-" Arvedui's voice wavered and his eyes widened as he considered what he had said and seen: the message from his father in Haldad's hands, the various maps, the king's careful handling of questions and visuals. It could only mean one thing. "You purpose to ask Gondor for help! Father, you do realize that there has not been contact between the two kingdoms for more than five hundred years?"
"Of course I realize that, but they are still our kinsmen by blood and lineage. Given the dangerous position in which they are placed, I doubt not that they would be desirous to put an end to this long sundering."
"What I doubt, father, is whether we should be so eager to renew acquaintance with our southern neighbors. Although prosperous to a certain degree, the ancient line of their kings has been broken, twice. Is this not a sign of decay? Would it be wise to put our trust in a line thus weakened? Not because of the blood that runs through their veins, for lineage alone does not make a man, but because of the fickleness of their lords and their inability to retain their power as it is. By not preserving their lines they show some contempt for their inheritance, and some disregard to their responsability toward their people."
"It may be as you say, Arvedui, but although weakened, the line of their kings still endures, if not unbroken. I am willing to apply to King Ondoher for a renewal of the old friendship. If they are resisting this threat, I want to know what they know, I want to see what they do, and take counsel with them. Mayhap they have learned things we know not that could be helpful in our struggles against the Witch-king. At any rate, it is better to have them as friends, than to dismiss them entirely and risk to make them our enemies."
"You will, then, send a message to the king," Arvedui said, folding his arms over his chest.
"I already have," Araphant observed how Arvedui raised his brow, "and Ondoher answered." Arvedui set his arms on the table and leaned forward, then stretched his hand to receive the piece of parchment that his father had offered him. He beheld the sign of the tree and the seven stars engraved upon black wax, and as fast as he could, his eyes began the perusal of the contents of the message:
iMy Lord Araphant,
It may be impossible to conceal the surprise and amazement that the arrival of your message has aroused. We hear with regret and pain about your losses, but take heart at the victories of your people, and entertain hope for the future. Our own lands have been assailed and the threats have sometimes been overpowering, yet that cannot be offered as an excuse for the neglecting of the ties that bind us, which are stronger than peril or death.
We are anxious to end the sundering between our kingdoms, and renew the acquaintance that existed of old among all dúnedain, as Elendil our forefather intended. We send this message with an invitation to the king and whomsoever he may bring with him, to take counsel with us and visit our lands as he sees fit.
May the stars shine on your house forever, and may the old alliance be renewed.
Remains your servant,
King Ondoher
Gondor, 10 Víresse 2939/i
After going through the contents twice, Arvedui slowly rolled the scroll and set it back on the table. He kept fingering the black seal, and his look was absent, distant.
"What do you make of it?" asked Araphant, taking the chair next to Arvedui and looking closely at his son's bleak expression.
"It is quite a handsome letter," he answered steadily without turning to look at his father. "I suspect the message I saw in Haldad's hands is your reply to it."
"Indeed," the king admitted, unable to conceal a note of regret. He should have informed Arvedui of this; after all, he was his heir and the captain of his army. But, he was also his son, and the events that would follow were likely to produce a sundering between them that he was loathe to face. Ever since his son's birth, Araphant had foreseen such a moment, even though at first he had not understood the significance of it. But, now, the work and preparations of so many years could not be set at naught. Nay, this way had been best. "Circumstances demanded that a reply should be sent at once. We wish to let them know that we are as anxious as they to renew our friendship."
"When did you first write to Ondoher? Do you know whether he replied inmediately? That certainty would be important in determining his interest in the affair."
"He did," said Araphant. "As I reckon, he may have written the next day after my messenger arrived at Minas Anor. I believe he is quite interested in the affair, do you not?"
Arvedui looked at his father from the corner of his eye, and nodded. "Very well, Sire. I do not consider it unwise to further relationships with them, but I advice prudence. It may well be that they expect from us something that we cannot provide; at least not at present. May I ask what course will you take now?"
"I intend to take advantage of the king's expressed wishes and further relations. That is what a wise man would do." Araphant saw how his son smiled, though grimly, but observed a slight change in his posture. The line of the shoulders tightened, as well as the fists, and a frown began to form in the young face. Could Arvedui perceive the thoughts that crossed his mind, the intents of his heart? If he did, he would know soon enough. "We need to seize this chance, Arvedui, for we need their friendship, and Valar knows we could use their help! In our position we cannot afford to slight this display of good will. Politics, my son; politics are the key to government. You must never forget that."
Arvedui remained silent, out of deference toward his father, but also out of a renewed interest in the contents of the message. He knew Araphant well as to know that he had not been summoned only to be played with; there was a deeper purpose to his father's questioning of him, and as of yet he could not see it. It was clear that the king had been attempting to establish a framework in his own mind so he would accept whatever that was to be proposed. What, then, was to be proposed? Surely not the sending of a message to Gondor, for that had already been done. It was vital that he knew the contents of the answer his father had given. Could it be that his father intended a visit? It was a grave risk to travel through the south road; the king should not be put through such peril. Would he be sent? He had not time to follow the train of his own reasonings, for once again his father addressed him.
"You wish to know the contents of my reply to the king." Arvedui only nodded, but leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and fixing his eyes intently on his father. "I have written to say that we are grateful to see our message had received good welcome, and were desirous to meet with him. I told them that preparations had been started for a trip south, and, if he approved of it, we should be expected within a month."
Araphant's response did not come as a surprise to Arvedui, whose keen eyes followed his father's movements as he paced the room, and stationed himself opposite to the door. "Something makes you uncomfortable, father." Araphant only looked at him, and folded his arms behind his back. Arvedui continued, "I cannot approve of this choice. It is too dangerous, and implies a great risk that I am loathe to take. Whom would you send? It needs to be your best politician; otherwise, any opportunities that you have been so assiduously striving to build will be dashed to pieces. I believe you would like to go yourself, but I hardly think you will be permitted to do so; the king should be protected at all costs. You may have contemplated about sending me. Is that why you have called me today? Do you wish me to make the journey south?"
The last words were uttered in hesitation, as were the next words pronnounced by the king. Araphant paced the room for a few seconds, in which a deadly silence reigned between them. At last he began, "Actually, both you and I are to go."
There it was. Finally, the king had fully revealed his true wishes. Arvedui turned abruptly at him, fixing a very piercing stare upon his father's person, so sharp that Araphant did not hold it. The prince pushed his chair away from the table, and sighed heavily, striving for the mastery of his own emotions. Now every little oddity he had observed about his father or Haldad had met with a fitting explanation. How could he not have thought of it sooner? They wished precisely for him to make the journey, for he was to be the means of the renewing of the old alliance. He grimaced. "You are willing to risk leaving our people leaderless for the sake of this journey," the words carried a hidden sting, "for if we are both to travel and we meet with an accident, only strife will ensue in our lands if there is no one to return and fill the king's seat." Arvedui felt a quickening of his pulse. "You do realize what it will mean if we are to travel south together?"
The king said nothing. He turned around and walked toward the window, where he picked a lilly from the vase and caressed it gently, but his fingers shook.
"Father, it can only mean one thing!"
"And that is exactly what it means!" This time, Araphant raised his voice, and hardened his knuckles so much that the delicate blossom was crushed inside his fist.
"So, you truly mean that I be sent to Gondor to sue for the hand of the king's daughter in marriage?" Arvedui's countenance was a mix of disbelief, anger and realization. "If the king and his heir travel together, that is what will be expected." The king stood still, and their gazes met, Arvedui's cold and sharp, Araphant's commanding and stern. "As I grew I could not help but think that someday my life would come to this, and I'd be forced to enter into a marriage I did not wish. Why did you not speak of this sooner? It would have saved you all the trouble of going through the peculiarities of military strategy with me, if all along your desire was to command me to marry. Why the manipulation, then? Why try to impress upon me the grave need of our people? I know this better than most, father! You know I would do anything it takes to save them, even at my own expense."
"That I know, son," Araphant said, softening. "I have seen how Hador's death has affected you," at this, Arvedui flinched, "and I know what you have seen in the battlefield. You would be willing to lay out even your life for these men, and your friends, then why not marry? The life of a soldier is full of pain and sadness. Would that I could spare you that kind of grief, but the times in which we live are perilous and dark. Last time frightened me, Arvedui; so few survived that assault! Had you died I could not- Do you realize what it would have meant? I am old now, and I cannot produce another heir. Your life must be protected, and I am only willing to risk our going, only because I consider this connection as extremely needful. An alliance must be secured! And you are the one to do it; I see no other way."
It took Arvedui a few moments to settle his thoughts before he could manage a reply. The recollections of the last battle were still on his mind, and he could hardly endure the strain they produced on his mind and body. The horror, the screamings, the blood... and his friend, clinging to life as it fled from him. Arvedui veiled his eyes; the memory was too painful. He swallowed hard. "Marriage alone does not offer guarantee of help. They might make a commitment, but that gives no security of any measures to be taken on our benefit. Any bond will only mean a word compromise to them, nothing more."
"But at least it is a beginning! Five hundred years of estrangement that could be ammended now if we take this step!"
"If I take this step, you mean," Arvedui corrected. "I take it that her wishes will not make any difference in the final arrangement."
"I suspect she will do as her father bids."
"A suspicion, nothing more. She could refuse, and there would be nothing to be done about it."
"Refuse!" Araphant cried, waving his arms in the air, "I do not think any woman would refuse you. If they did, that would be proof enough of their lack of sense and good judgement. No, I doubt that she would refuse you, if that is what you fear."
"Fear!" It was Arvedui's turn to show exasperation. "Being refused might be the least of my worries at this point. You do not know how they are likely to take this offer. They may be offended by thinking we are being too forward in our ambitions. We know nothing of them; this brief intercourse gives us no proper view about their characters or intentions. This princess could be a feisty or a conceited one, and if Ondoher is weak-minded, she might easily sway him. We do not know, we do not know anything yet."
"Do not play that card on me; I know it well. Do you think I would even risk the asking did I not perceive something of Ondoher's mind? It is no secret that I have an unmarried son who is to be my heir; my request to renew acquaintance with them implies some interest in his eligible daughter. That is what influential families do, you know. This would not be the first time."
"Always the politician," Arvedui whispered. "And yet, you are not speaking your full mind, for surely you are aware that this marriage will not ensure the results you want."
"If you think you will not be happy with Fíriel-"
"Fíriel" Arvedui interrupted, testing the foreign sounds in his mouth and playing them for his ears to listen. "Is that her name? A pretty one, that is. No, I meant not the marriage itself; our own happiness has not been taken into account, I hardly think that would mind at all. I simply attempted to point out that marriage or no, Ondoher is free to pursue his own mind, and, what is most, he has his own people's needs to consider. What could he care about such a far away land as Arnor?"
"Yes, but his daughter's safety will be at play. He will do it for her, if not for us. Promises such as this are always honored." Araphant seemed so confident about his own reasonings, that Arvedui preferred to let the matter drop. "Besides, he will do it because he will always live in fear that someday he might need our help and it will be denied if he makes the wrong moves. Think about it; things fit into perfect place."
A long silence followed these remarks, in which neither prince nor king exchanged any glance or gesture. Araphant muttered a few words under his breath, as he gathered a few papers that had been scattered by the soft breeze that blew in through the open window. Arvedui bit his lips and leaned forward, placing both his hands on his knees. The prince lowered his gaze and stared down at his bare hands, those same hands that had played with toy horses, and years later wielded a deadly sword would perhaps now wear a wedding band. Was he ready for that kind of commitment? It surely mattered to no one else, and yet-
"Do not think that this is pleasant for me, for I have always hoped that you would be allowed to marry for love," Araphant began, and although the tone of his voice was a heartfelt one, it lacked the true firmness and steadiness that was usual. "I hope one day you will understand why it is that I ask you to do this, and I would not do it if I were not utterly convinced that this is best. I know that my decision angers you, and I also know that you are man enough to disobey me if you choose to do so. Know, then, that I am prepared to do whatever it takes, but you are to marry this girl, and that is my final word on this matter."
"Is that a threat of some sort, father?" Araphant did not fail to notice the implied irony behind his son's words, yet he chose to ignore it. He turned his back to him, and walked off to a nearby table, where a few books were piled in a tower, holding some maps in place. The prince of Arthedain followed his father's movements carefully, and his frown deepened as did his dislike for the king's policies, as he used to call them. At last he arose, pushing himself away from the table in a brisk, rather loud thud, and in a grim voice he added, "Very well, my lord. I shall see that your wishes are met to the best of my abilities. But, remember this: Even though it seems to you that marriages come and go, and it makes no difference, feelings may be hurt that cannot be ammended. Then you might live to regret it, and bear in mind that it is not of my own feelings that I speak. I hope your plan works as you want. Otherwise, may the Valar help us."
"So be it," the king said as he forcefully closed one of the books in his hands.
"So be it," repeated Arvedui in a harsh whisper as he bowed and left, closing the door behind him.
"May the Valar help us," Araphant said in a very low voice as he allowed his gaze to linger out of the window and into the open countryside, where a few grey clouds dappled the sky, darkening the once bright horizon. The king's face was somber, and the lines around his forehead and mouth seemed to have deepened. "May the Valar help us, indeed, Arvedui. You cannot even begin to imagine how much will you need their help in years to come. May the Valar help us."
ALLIANCE
Chapter One: Messages
"Good day, my lord," Haldad bowed as he passed. " 'Tis a bright morning, isn't it? I trust you had a fine evening."
Arvedui caught the mischievous glint in the old councilor's eyes, and could not but smile. "Aye, my good Haldad. After the storm comes the sun, is it not what they say? And very glad that today the sun shines as bright as ever. Last night was a... nightmare."
"Indeed!" Haldad laughed. "It may well be said that we deserved this gift. Although," he lowered his voice and cocked his head, "there are some who may argue that this is not a time for humour or light-heartedness. I am not of like mind, and I hope you do not take offense in that regard, but I feel that as long as hearts remain glad, minds remain clear, and since our present situation cannot bring gladness, at least light-heartedness should be attempted by any such means as can be resorted to. Do you not agree?"
"I do," he sighed. "And, of course, I do not take offense. I thank you for your endeavors on our behalf; we were rather grim last night, were we not?" Arvedui's smile nearly disappeared, and only a wistful expression remained on the fair countenance. "Nay, our situation does not bring gladness, and I wonder whether we will ever know what gladness means again."
"Speak not so, lord." Haldad placed a hand on Arvedui's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "As long as life remains, hope endures; is it not what they say? Do not ever lose hope, for then your life is in grave peril. Come now, wipe that frown off your face! Do not let any thought of last night's council trouble you; things were wont to go that way, as you well know."
"Yes, I know! But, still-" He walked away from Haldad and leaned over one of the wide windows of the palace. Sun rays came slanting in, caressing his face with their warmth. He was glad to see the sky was not clouded; the prospect of a ride was highly appealing, although he doubted that he would be able to escape the days' duties as they currently stood. He frowned. Recollections of the council served only to anger him, and he hoped to be calm when answering to his father's summons. He expected some sort of rebuke, for Araphant knew his son well, and was sure to have noticed the strain he went under while he listened to all the lords discussing fateful plans for their future, plans that would only manage their destruction, as it were! He had spoken in earnest against such things, which had only earned him glares and scowls, and, at the end, decided it was better to remain silent than die afore-time by the blows those hard looks inflicted upon him and his father. "If one says too much, it is considered disrespectful to the wisdom of others; but, if one says too little, it is also considered a disrespect, and even a challenge to their authority! Forgive me, Haldad, it is painful enough to have always burdened you with my cares, but I must say that the more I see of people, the less I understand them. Had I only been allowed to speak my mind last night!" He sighed, and gripped the wooden railing so tightly that for a moment it seemed that it would be snapped in two. "What use is there in training me, if they will not listen to any advice I give?"
He became suddenly aware that he had been raising his voice as he heard his words repeated many times along the deserted corridors, and pursed his lips. He breathed deep, and pressed his fist against the wall. "Forgive me; I am not myself. I cannot afford to speak thus; I must-"
"It is well. There is no need to apologize to me, lad," Haldad said, forgetting for a moment that the Arvedui standing in front of him now, was not the lad who used to break into his study, and grab the books out of his library to read while his father was away, or the one who questioned him incessantly about politics and philosophy, only to disagree with every argument he proposed. "You must have been wroth. 'Tis not like you to be rash or untempered, most of all when speaking to the lords. It was not prudent. Diplomacy must be maintained and practiced above all things else when you are a king."
"But I am not yet a king, and doubt I will ever live to become one if our war strategies do not change, or if we do not receive better support from those who can give it." Arvedui's voice dripped bitterness. He turned and looked fully at Haldad. "They do not understand what they have not seen. When I spoke last night, all I hoped was to provide a picture of what our straits are like. I may have been harsh and scornful, and surely some people were offended by it. But, believe me," Arvedui narrowed his gaze, "those things I described do not even represent half of what we have suffered! Let them be angered, if they may. Nothing can be done about it now."
"When your time comes," Haldad began, his voice more grave than usual, "you will find that the good-will of the people is not only secured by lineage. A king remains on his throne through politics."
"Indeed, but if we suffer these 'politics' to endure a while longer, there might be no kingdom left to rule." His words carried a sting that was seldom found in them. Arvedui lowered his gaze, and sought to calm the quick rhythm of his breathing that had gradually increased as he spoke. He felt his face burning, and thought he may have blushed; an odd trait that he had long sought to vanquish -to no avail. He swallowed hard, "You must understand that those men at the council last night are not fighters. They live in the comfort of their homes and know little of the perils that soldiers must face in the wild. I will not endanger my men solely to indulge-"
"Arvedui," Haldad interrupted; his voice was stern, but it was softened by the expression of his eyes. "It is long since you have become a full man, and one man whom I admire and respect, as do many, many others throughout this kingdom; and, you are very much past your age for being tutored by one such as I, friendship or no, but, I would like to say a thing or two, if I may."
Arvedui, smiled, if slightly and without mirth. Haldad had been one constant friend to his father, and had been so to himself. He had taught, comforted, even scolded him as a child; and had counseled, befriended, and listened to him as an adult. He breathed deep, and nodded.
"People get desperate; tempers rise, tongues losen... It is all wont to happen among those who are not used to the discipline of a soldier, or even, to life at court. Wild schemes and heated arguments can be excused from such people, but they are not easily forgiven in a king, or prince." Arvedui leaned forward and opened his mouth to say something, but just as suddenly decided against it, and rested his head against the wall. Haldad continued, "I know you have long known this, wherefore, I am even more surprised by last night's behaviour."
"You do not think, then, that there was reason behind my words?" Arvedui asked, "Would you side with such a plan as was proposed by Melendil? We cannot afford to move the troops from the road, you well know that. He only wishes to have the armies travel south so he will be better deffended against a few mercenaries. No!" He tightened his fists. "We will not protect Melendil at the expense of one or two armies; not to mention the risk of leaving the road passes unmanned. There are other ways to-"
"It is not to your strategy that I object to, Arvedui, it is to the lack of prudence shown in proposing it! Of course I am well aware of Melendil's folly. He is a greedy old man, and has managed to sway a few other lords into his own desires; but, even he would be justified in fearing for his land in such a time as this, and wishing to protect it. He is entitled to it."
Haldad fell silent for a moment, in which he studied Arvedui intently, trying to discover how the young man had interpreted his words. He saw Araphant's heir shift uncomfortably where he stood, run a hand over his hair, sigh, and then look straight at him. From his long knowledge of young Arvedui's habits, he knew that when he looked at someone straight to the eyes, it meant that he was seeking truth behind the words. He nodded, and continued, "Your father will not be too pleased if he hears I have told you this, but I must admire your performance last night, even though I cannot commend it. You spoke as one who is sure of himself and confident about his own knowlege and abilities, and that is an attitude that will win you the hearts of many. People look up to leaders who will be strong and remain brave in the face of danger, and who will be swift to act and slow to repent later. But, to do that, it takes long practice and... guts."
This did not fail to bring a smile to Arvedui's mouth. "To do what, remain brave in the face of danger, or to be swift to act and slow to repent later? Methinks the latter is harder achieved than the first."
"I knew you would think so," Haldad remarked, seizing the shift in the young man's mood. "I know you to be just and kind, Arvedui. And, I also know you to be patient. 'Tis not like you to be quick-tempered, and much more so in the face of men of Melendil's like. I saw some brows raised last night; you must be prepared, for some may consider your behavior... immature."
"Immature!" Arvedui laughed, but grimly. "They are justified, for such rashness as I showed cannot be construed otherwise. Something happened to me as I sat on that room, before all the lords. It angered me to see how little they knew about our losses or efforts, how disdainfully they considered all our endeavours in their behalf. It felt as though they believed this war was one easy campaign and we had been neglectful of their protection.
In truth, I do not know what seized me-"
"Oh, I do." Haldad needed not pursue the train of his words before Arvedui shot him a knowing, painful glance that lingered a while on his face ere it fell on the load of papers he still carried in his aged, yet strong hands. Most of the scrolls were sealed with white wax, as was the custom regarding military decrees; surely, Araphant had approved the withdrawal of troops from the easternmost pass as had been decided at the council. Arvedui muttered a few words, and frowned, unable to conceal his dislike at the turn of strategies, when his eyes caught a scroll of brown parchment carefully tied with red ribbon, all secured by a blot of red wax that exhibited the sign of the two serpents and the crown of golden flowers, the king's own mark. His eyes widened.
"A very important thing you carry there, Haldad," he said, attempting to hide, or perhaps to mitigate, his own interest in the scroll. Only when it was a matter of extreme urgency or significance did the king engrave his seal in red wax. "A message from my father, as I see. To whom, if I may ask?"
Haldad's countenance stiffened, and only the constant dilating of his nostrils betrayed that he still breathed. He gripped the papers tightly against him, as if unwilling to let any information slip. Slowly, the lines around his eyes began to relax, and his mouth twisted into a feigned half-smile. "The king has said no word of this to you?"
"Should he?" Arvedui asked, unable to hide the note of curiosity behind his words.
"Well," Haldad hesitated, "Well, I thought he already had. I- I suppose he will speak of it soon enough."
"Will he?" the prince eyed Haldad suspiciously. What was this important piece of information that his father had forgotten to share with him? It could be anything from warfare strategies to requests for protection from any of the east or southern settlements. It could well be about the new regulations for soldier training and recruiting policies, or mayhap it was the king's granted permission for him to return to his men at Amon Sul. How he longed to be back with them! It could be anything. But, whatever it was, it was sure to produce a shocking, or at least, a deep impression on himself, judging from the councilor's blunt answers and secretive behaviour.
"He will," Haldad said. "I believe, now, that he expects you. Is that whence you go?"
"Indeed. He has already sent for me. Did you not know that?" Arvedui asked, looking fully at him.
Haldad held Arvedui's gaze for a few seconds, but said no word. At last, he put his hand on the prince's shoulder and squeezed it tightly. "Very well, then. We will all do as we are supossed to do, won't we? I will go and distribute these," he looked down at the decrees and scrolls, "and you will go in and meet your father. Now remember, my young lord, that your people will look up to you no matter what, and know that all these years of training and preparation have not been in vain. Remember that."
Haldad gave him a final pat on the shoulder and sauntered away, leaving Arvedui with an odd sensation of misgiving, and wondering whether his old friend had only spoken of matters such as decrees and interviews or if he had, indeed, meant to speak about other things that Arvedui had not grasped, or did not understand. He breathed deep and looked once more out of the window where the world seemed to be peacefully oblivious of peril or doom. The prospect of a good, long ride seemed highly appealing... but it would have to wait. He turned his face from the window and his mind from any thoughts of pleasant rides and peaceful days, and advanced through the corridor, anticipating his encounter with the king.
The king's heir knocked at the door and waited impatiently for what seemed an age, until he heard a muffled voice from within, very familiar in its cadence and pitch. "Come in."
Arvedui stepped inside his father's domain, and as his eyes grew accustomed to the dimmer lights in this room, he was able to see around him things that distinguished his father from other men of his kind. There were books and scrolls scattered carelessly about; there were paintings and sketches adorning the walls, some of which Arvedui had made for him while still a child, for his father was a great admirer of art of any sort; there were maps, piles and piles of maps that lay over the tables, chairs, and some were even resting on the floor. On a small pedestal by the window, Arvedui beheld a vase with fresh-cut lillies of the same kind his mother used to bring to the king while she was alive. Leaning upon the table was his father, the sleeves of his shirt rolled upwards as if he were conducting a task which required great exertion; perhaps he was.
"Close the door," Araphant said without even bestowing a look on his son. He mumbled a few things that did not make their way to Arvedui's ears, drew a few things on a piece of parchment, flipped through the pages of an old book, and mumbled again.
"Good day, my lord," Arvedui said, clearing his throat.
A long silence followed, after which Araphant turned to him, and nodded. "Good day, Arvedui. I have been expecting you."
"Indeed. I was detained by Haldad as I came. Please, forgive any delay if you were made to wait for longer than was needful." Arvedui was intrigued by the sudden look his father gave him; it was scrutinizing, very sharp and piercing, and one that he had seldom seen on that countenance before.
"He... spoke to you?"
"A few words in passing," Arvedui cocked his head, "He had other business to see to, and you were waiting."
"Ah, yes," the king said, turning his eyes to the book again. "Please, do take a seat. The hour grows late and many matters await my consideration. This will hopefully not take long." There was a certain tinge to the voice that implied familiarity in command, an awareness that his demands should be met; the king was not the king at this moment, but a father.
Arvedui walked toward his favorite spot in the whole of his father's study: a tall chair made of black leather that was placed right between the window and a wide bookshelf. He placed both his hands on the armrests and started to trace the contours of the abstract designs carved on the leather. After a while, Araphant looked about him, as if searching for something.
"No, not there. Sit here by me," he said as he cleared a chair from the papers that were on top of it and moved it closer to the table. "Come now."
"Very well, Sire," Arvedui said as he sat, wondering all the time what his father could possibly want from him. The king appeared not to be as wroth as he had first expected, but was not in a good-humour altogether. There was a sort of studied carelesness in his manner that chafed Arvedui, and he also observed the tinge of determination to which his father so frequently resorted to, stubborness, perhaps, that alerted him that whatever would follow might not likely be a victory to himself.
"I take it you know this very well," the king said, pointing toward a map extended on the table in front of him. "Tell me what it is."
Arvedui looked down, and up again at his father, puzzled. "It is a diagram that outlines the movements of our troops during the past month."
"Take a good look at it."
"I know it by heart," Arvedui added slowly and sternly, "upside down."
"Very well, Sir," Araphant smiled, as he filled his cup with water from a pitcher. He drank no wine while he worked. "Very well. Now, as I have no doubt that you have studied this map even more carefully than I have myself, I would ask you to tell me what it is we have not tried so far. What have we not done?"
Arvedui narrowed his gaze. "What we have not done? I do not see-"
"Look at it!" Araphant commanded a bit more forcefully. The beautifully drawn map had annotations and markings all over it, with arrows indicating where troops had advanced or retreated, black dots to mark any settlements or camps, and brown dots to mark enemy strongholds or places of attack. "Look at this, and tell me what strategy have we not used, what movement have we not tried. I would that you told me, for you may know this better than most."
Arvedui was forced to look down, reviewing in his mind the movements of the troops and the military tactics that arnorian forces had used, some of which he had devised himself, re-living retreats and campaigns, and recollecting the great amount of information regarding these matters that took so much of his time and energy every day. He narrowed his gaze as his eyes roved over the surface of the map. A few names, facts, and annotations, very brief bits of information; that was what all became in the end. It angered him. "Perhaps you would like to be more specific about your question."
"You see the brown dots on this map," the king began. "There are many of those, far too many. Notice, too, the locations. Along the East-West road, following the Mitheithel and down into the Gwathló, up by the Ettenmoors, and over the North Downs." Arvedui followed the trail indicated by his father's finger over the map. "We have been cut off! We are being besieged!"
"Besieged!" Arvedui snapped.
"Not theoretically, for we are not yet completely surrounded, nor gathered into one single place of refuge, but we are being cornered. You can see as much here on this map. We have already been shut out from Imladris, and any communication with men from the north is impossible. Cardolan is already lost to us, and the only help we can rely on now comes from Círdan in Lindon."
Arvedui regarded his father for a moment. "You should not expect much from that quarter, my lord. Círdan will be bound to help Imladris; they are his kinsmen. We cannot ask for his help in preserving the Northern lands so long as Imladris remains in straits. Let us hope that they can hold the threat from the East at bay as we do our best to defend the North."
"You realize that they also count on us to keep the evil away from them. If we fail, the enemy will pour into their lands like hungry locusts on a wheat field. I think that they will try to help as much as they are able, if only for their own sakes."
"You purpose to send word to Círdan asking for help?"
"I know better than to ask for help at the expense of losing another ally. We need Imladris. I shall wait until we see results from the struggle in the East, and then will I ask for help. We cannot afford to lose both our arms on this war."
"We are crippled as it is. The enemy outnumbers us, and only the valour of our men has gained us what little victories we have been able to garner. Not enough against Angmar."
"That is why I have sent for you," Araphant said, pointing to the map with his finger. "Look again, and tell me what we have not done."
"I fail to see the point-" The prince was not only surprised at not hearing the rebuke he had anticipated, but also at the way in which his father was trying so intently to steer their conversation, deliberately and unsuccessfully seeking to make a point that as of yet made no sense to him.
"Think strategies. What strategies have we not tried yet?"
"With all due respect, my lord, there can be as many strategies as there are men. They can be devised and altered at will, resulting in different strategies and tactics. Forgive me, but the question you ask is an impossible one to answer."
"Tell me, Arvedui, what is the easiest way to break a siege?"
Arvedui raised a brow, and after some consideration, he said, "That depends upon many variables such as strength of the besieged and the besieger, duration of the attack, climatic considerations, geographical conditions..." Arvedui trailed off as he beheld his father unfasten the first button of his shirt. He wondered why the king was taking such great pains in leading his thoughts when he gave all signs of knowing his own answers all along. "One could first try to wear out the enemy and wait until they tire or grow out of provisions."
"Which is most unlikely given the time of year. Winter will not come for many months, which gives Angmar plenty of time to gather supplies to survive the cold. Nay," Araphant waved his hand, "waiting would not do. It may well wear us out, instead of them."
"Then one could try to give a final push from the inside out, gathering all strength that can be found and forcing the enemies to a rout. It holds great risks and possibilities of victory are reduced by half, but as long as there is a chance it must be seized. Angered men are better fighters than ambitious ones."
"Very true, but what happens if we fail? Not many men might be willing to take such a fateful chance. Some may rather wait... No, something else must be attempted. See this."
Araphant unrolled a scroll that contained a map of the Southern Kingdom, Gondor. It was marked in the same fashion as the map of his own lands, with brief remarks, estimates, and places of battles and camps. "All information we have received of the South by way of scouts, spies, travelers, soldiers, and... other means, we have compiled into this map. It tracks, as you can see, the movements of Gondor's military during the previous year. Do you see a pattern?"
The young prince had seen the map before. It portrayed the southern lands with the greatest accuracy that could be contrived with the information they had. He passed his fingers over it, lingering at whiles to read a few notes that marked battle sites, and stopping at the many brown dots that covered its surface, all around the main territory of Anárion's land.
"Cornered!" Arvedui widened his eyes as he observed his father's stern countenance.
"Indeed. And it is not just Gondor. Note Mirkwood there," he said, pointing to the great forest on the map. "There is a shadow in the woods that is feared and felt throughout all the surrounding lands. Men do not venture farther than is needful; the dwarves in the northern cities do not go into the forest and are reluctant to trade with the elves. The elves themselves-" he stopped, drawing his hand to his chin. "The threat must be too great if they would rather go away from the shadow instead of facing it. Something is amiss, Arvedui, and not just for us. Take Gondor as an example; see how their foes have mysteriously managed to surround them on almost every side! Wainriders and orcs to the East, Corsairs and Easterlings to their right, men of Harad to the South, and the North..."
"The North they cannot afford to lose," Arvedui said. "As much as we cannot afford to lose the South. Do you suppose that these attacks are not coincidential? If considered isolated as they have hitherto been, all the various threats appear to be of a different nature and driven by different purposes. But, regarded together, I cannot but think that there is a single hand leading these assaults." Arvedui paused for a moment to contemplate the full purport of the words he had just uttered. If the attacks they had suffered were led by one power alone, then who was he, and what was his purpose? If this was not determined, then they were placed in even greater straits than before. The thought sank his spirits.
"Alas, son, for that is also my thought." Araphant walked away from the table toward the window, and for a while remained silent, his eyes fixed on some point in the horizon that Arvedui could not determine. At length, he spoke again, and the prince noticed a startling shift in the king's mood. "So far you have pointed out very contrived ways to resist a siege, but have not told me the most obvious one. I must ask again, what would be the most efective way to break a siege, the one way that would ensure better results, the first thing you would think of."
"As I see no point in your reasonings, my lord, it would be hard for me to give and answer, but if you insist on knowing, the easiest way to break a siege must surely be to call for an ally to break through enemy lines from outside, as we do our part from within, so that-" Arvedui's voice wavered and his eyes widened as he considered what he had said and seen: the message from his father in Haldad's hands, the various maps, the king's careful handling of questions and visuals. It could only mean one thing. "You purpose to ask Gondor for help! Father, you do realize that there has not been contact between the two kingdoms for more than five hundred years?"
"Of course I realize that, but they are still our kinsmen by blood and lineage. Given the dangerous position in which they are placed, I doubt not that they would be desirous to put an end to this long sundering."
"What I doubt, father, is whether we should be so eager to renew acquaintance with our southern neighbors. Although prosperous to a certain degree, the ancient line of their kings has been broken, twice. Is this not a sign of decay? Would it be wise to put our trust in a line thus weakened? Not because of the blood that runs through their veins, for lineage alone does not make a man, but because of the fickleness of their lords and their inability to retain their power as it is. By not preserving their lines they show some contempt for their inheritance, and some disregard to their responsability toward their people."
"It may be as you say, Arvedui, but although weakened, the line of their kings still endures, if not unbroken. I am willing to apply to King Ondoher for a renewal of the old friendship. If they are resisting this threat, I want to know what they know, I want to see what they do, and take counsel with them. Mayhap they have learned things we know not that could be helpful in our struggles against the Witch-king. At any rate, it is better to have them as friends, than to dismiss them entirely and risk to make them our enemies."
"You will, then, send a message to the king," Arvedui said, folding his arms over his chest.
"I already have," Araphant observed how Arvedui raised his brow, "and Ondoher answered." Arvedui set his arms on the table and leaned forward, then stretched his hand to receive the piece of parchment that his father had offered him. He beheld the sign of the tree and the seven stars engraved upon black wax, and as fast as he could, his eyes began the perusal of the contents of the message:
iMy Lord Araphant,
It may be impossible to conceal the surprise and amazement that the arrival of your message has aroused. We hear with regret and pain about your losses, but take heart at the victories of your people, and entertain hope for the future. Our own lands have been assailed and the threats have sometimes been overpowering, yet that cannot be offered as an excuse for the neglecting of the ties that bind us, which are stronger than peril or death.
We are anxious to end the sundering between our kingdoms, and renew the acquaintance that existed of old among all dúnedain, as Elendil our forefather intended. We send this message with an invitation to the king and whomsoever he may bring with him, to take counsel with us and visit our lands as he sees fit.
May the stars shine on your house forever, and may the old alliance be renewed.
Remains your servant,
King Ondoher
Gondor, 10 Víresse 2939/i
After going through the contents twice, Arvedui slowly rolled the scroll and set it back on the table. He kept fingering the black seal, and his look was absent, distant.
"What do you make of it?" asked Araphant, taking the chair next to Arvedui and looking closely at his son's bleak expression.
"It is quite a handsome letter," he answered steadily without turning to look at his father. "I suspect the message I saw in Haldad's hands is your reply to it."
"Indeed," the king admitted, unable to conceal a note of regret. He should have informed Arvedui of this; after all, he was his heir and the captain of his army. But, he was also his son, and the events that would follow were likely to produce a sundering between them that he was loathe to face. Ever since his son's birth, Araphant had foreseen such a moment, even though at first he had not understood the significance of it. But, now, the work and preparations of so many years could not be set at naught. Nay, this way had been best. "Circumstances demanded that a reply should be sent at once. We wish to let them know that we are as anxious as they to renew our friendship."
"When did you first write to Ondoher? Do you know whether he replied inmediately? That certainty would be important in determining his interest in the affair."
"He did," said Araphant. "As I reckon, he may have written the next day after my messenger arrived at Minas Anor. I believe he is quite interested in the affair, do you not?"
Arvedui looked at his father from the corner of his eye, and nodded. "Very well, Sire. I do not consider it unwise to further relationships with them, but I advice prudence. It may well be that they expect from us something that we cannot provide; at least not at present. May I ask what course will you take now?"
"I intend to take advantage of the king's expressed wishes and further relations. That is what a wise man would do." Araphant saw how his son smiled, though grimly, but observed a slight change in his posture. The line of the shoulders tightened, as well as the fists, and a frown began to form in the young face. Could Arvedui perceive the thoughts that crossed his mind, the intents of his heart? If he did, he would know soon enough. "We need to seize this chance, Arvedui, for we need their friendship, and Valar knows we could use their help! In our position we cannot afford to slight this display of good will. Politics, my son; politics are the key to government. You must never forget that."
Arvedui remained silent, out of deference toward his father, but also out of a renewed interest in the contents of the message. He knew Araphant well as to know that he had not been summoned only to be played with; there was a deeper purpose to his father's questioning of him, and as of yet he could not see it. It was clear that the king had been attempting to establish a framework in his own mind so he would accept whatever that was to be proposed. What, then, was to be proposed? Surely not the sending of a message to Gondor, for that had already been done. It was vital that he knew the contents of the answer his father had given. Could it be that his father intended a visit? It was a grave risk to travel through the south road; the king should not be put through such peril. Would he be sent? He had not time to follow the train of his own reasonings, for once again his father addressed him.
"You wish to know the contents of my reply to the king." Arvedui only nodded, but leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and fixing his eyes intently on his father. "I have written to say that we are grateful to see our message had received good welcome, and were desirous to meet with him. I told them that preparations had been started for a trip south, and, if he approved of it, we should be expected within a month."
Araphant's response did not come as a surprise to Arvedui, whose keen eyes followed his father's movements as he paced the room, and stationed himself opposite to the door. "Something makes you uncomfortable, father." Araphant only looked at him, and folded his arms behind his back. Arvedui continued, "I cannot approve of this choice. It is too dangerous, and implies a great risk that I am loathe to take. Whom would you send? It needs to be your best politician; otherwise, any opportunities that you have been so assiduously striving to build will be dashed to pieces. I believe you would like to go yourself, but I hardly think you will be permitted to do so; the king should be protected at all costs. You may have contemplated about sending me. Is that why you have called me today? Do you wish me to make the journey south?"
The last words were uttered in hesitation, as were the next words pronnounced by the king. Araphant paced the room for a few seconds, in which a deadly silence reigned between them. At last he began, "Actually, both you and I are to go."
There it was. Finally, the king had fully revealed his true wishes. Arvedui turned abruptly at him, fixing a very piercing stare upon his father's person, so sharp that Araphant did not hold it. The prince pushed his chair away from the table, and sighed heavily, striving for the mastery of his own emotions. Now every little oddity he had observed about his father or Haldad had met with a fitting explanation. How could he not have thought of it sooner? They wished precisely for him to make the journey, for he was to be the means of the renewing of the old alliance. He grimaced. "You are willing to risk leaving our people leaderless for the sake of this journey," the words carried a hidden sting, "for if we are both to travel and we meet with an accident, only strife will ensue in our lands if there is no one to return and fill the king's seat." Arvedui felt a quickening of his pulse. "You do realize what it will mean if we are to travel south together?"
The king said nothing. He turned around and walked toward the window, where he picked a lilly from the vase and caressed it gently, but his fingers shook.
"Father, it can only mean one thing!"
"And that is exactly what it means!" This time, Araphant raised his voice, and hardened his knuckles so much that the delicate blossom was crushed inside his fist.
"So, you truly mean that I be sent to Gondor to sue for the hand of the king's daughter in marriage?" Arvedui's countenance was a mix of disbelief, anger and realization. "If the king and his heir travel together, that is what will be expected." The king stood still, and their gazes met, Arvedui's cold and sharp, Araphant's commanding and stern. "As I grew I could not help but think that someday my life would come to this, and I'd be forced to enter into a marriage I did not wish. Why did you not speak of this sooner? It would have saved you all the trouble of going through the peculiarities of military strategy with me, if all along your desire was to command me to marry. Why the manipulation, then? Why try to impress upon me the grave need of our people? I know this better than most, father! You know I would do anything it takes to save them, even at my own expense."
"That I know, son," Araphant said, softening. "I have seen how Hador's death has affected you," at this, Arvedui flinched, "and I know what you have seen in the battlefield. You would be willing to lay out even your life for these men, and your friends, then why not marry? The life of a soldier is full of pain and sadness. Would that I could spare you that kind of grief, but the times in which we live are perilous and dark. Last time frightened me, Arvedui; so few survived that assault! Had you died I could not- Do you realize what it would have meant? I am old now, and I cannot produce another heir. Your life must be protected, and I am only willing to risk our going, only because I consider this connection as extremely needful. An alliance must be secured! And you are the one to do it; I see no other way."
It took Arvedui a few moments to settle his thoughts before he could manage a reply. The recollections of the last battle were still on his mind, and he could hardly endure the strain they produced on his mind and body. The horror, the screamings, the blood... and his friend, clinging to life as it fled from him. Arvedui veiled his eyes; the memory was too painful. He swallowed hard. "Marriage alone does not offer guarantee of help. They might make a commitment, but that gives no security of any measures to be taken on our benefit. Any bond will only mean a word compromise to them, nothing more."
"But at least it is a beginning! Five hundred years of estrangement that could be ammended now if we take this step!"
"If I take this step, you mean," Arvedui corrected. "I take it that her wishes will not make any difference in the final arrangement."
"I suspect she will do as her father bids."
"A suspicion, nothing more. She could refuse, and there would be nothing to be done about it."
"Refuse!" Araphant cried, waving his arms in the air, "I do not think any woman would refuse you. If they did, that would be proof enough of their lack of sense and good judgement. No, I doubt that she would refuse you, if that is what you fear."
"Fear!" It was Arvedui's turn to show exasperation. "Being refused might be the least of my worries at this point. You do not know how they are likely to take this offer. They may be offended by thinking we are being too forward in our ambitions. We know nothing of them; this brief intercourse gives us no proper view about their characters or intentions. This princess could be a feisty or a conceited one, and if Ondoher is weak-minded, she might easily sway him. We do not know, we do not know anything yet."
"Do not play that card on me; I know it well. Do you think I would even risk the asking did I not perceive something of Ondoher's mind? It is no secret that I have an unmarried son who is to be my heir; my request to renew acquaintance with them implies some interest in his eligible daughter. That is what influential families do, you know. This would not be the first time."
"Always the politician," Arvedui whispered. "And yet, you are not speaking your full mind, for surely you are aware that this marriage will not ensure the results you want."
"If you think you will not be happy with Fíriel-"
"Fíriel" Arvedui interrupted, testing the foreign sounds in his mouth and playing them for his ears to listen. "Is that her name? A pretty one, that is. No, I meant not the marriage itself; our own happiness has not been taken into account, I hardly think that would mind at all. I simply attempted to point out that marriage or no, Ondoher is free to pursue his own mind, and, what is most, he has his own people's needs to consider. What could he care about such a far away land as Arnor?"
"Yes, but his daughter's safety will be at play. He will do it for her, if not for us. Promises such as this are always honored." Araphant seemed so confident about his own reasonings, that Arvedui preferred to let the matter drop. "Besides, he will do it because he will always live in fear that someday he might need our help and it will be denied if he makes the wrong moves. Think about it; things fit into perfect place."
A long silence followed these remarks, in which neither prince nor king exchanged any glance or gesture. Araphant muttered a few words under his breath, as he gathered a few papers that had been scattered by the soft breeze that blew in through the open window. Arvedui bit his lips and leaned forward, placing both his hands on his knees. The prince lowered his gaze and stared down at his bare hands, those same hands that had played with toy horses, and years later wielded a deadly sword would perhaps now wear a wedding band. Was he ready for that kind of commitment? It surely mattered to no one else, and yet-
"Do not think that this is pleasant for me, for I have always hoped that you would be allowed to marry for love," Araphant began, and although the tone of his voice was a heartfelt one, it lacked the true firmness and steadiness that was usual. "I hope one day you will understand why it is that I ask you to do this, and I would not do it if I were not utterly convinced that this is best. I know that my decision angers you, and I also know that you are man enough to disobey me if you choose to do so. Know, then, that I am prepared to do whatever it takes, but you are to marry this girl, and that is my final word on this matter."
"Is that a threat of some sort, father?" Araphant did not fail to notice the implied irony behind his son's words, yet he chose to ignore it. He turned his back to him, and walked off to a nearby table, where a few books were piled in a tower, holding some maps in place. The prince of Arthedain followed his father's movements carefully, and his frown deepened as did his dislike for the king's policies, as he used to call them. At last he arose, pushing himself away from the table in a brisk, rather loud thud, and in a grim voice he added, "Very well, my lord. I shall see that your wishes are met to the best of my abilities. But, remember this: Even though it seems to you that marriages come and go, and it makes no difference, feelings may be hurt that cannot be ammended. Then you might live to regret it, and bear in mind that it is not of my own feelings that I speak. I hope your plan works as you want. Otherwise, may the Valar help us."
"So be it," the king said as he forcefully closed one of the books in his hands.
"So be it," repeated Arvedui in a harsh whisper as he bowed and left, closing the door behind him.
"May the Valar help us," Araphant said in a very low voice as he allowed his gaze to linger out of the window and into the open countryside, where a few grey clouds dappled the sky, darkening the once bright horizon. The king's face was somber, and the lines around his forehead and mouth seemed to have deepened. "May the Valar help us, indeed, Arvedui. You cannot even begin to imagine how much will you need their help in years to come. May the Valar help us."