This is the first chapter for the fanfiction 'Guardians of Middle-Earth'! This is my first Tolkien fanfic, and you can't imagine how nervous I am...
So, this fanfiction contains OCs and is set after the Lord of the Rings. I will try to be accurate concerning Middle-earth, although I will have to invent things along the way.
I will need some time before releasing the next chapter, but as you will soon find out, the chapters are very long, so I hope it makes up for it.
I hope you all like it. This fic makes me nervous, so please, tell me what you think about it. I'm open to suggestions and remarks and everything you might think of this will be useful, so let me know.
Please, leave me reviews...
The Council
"Eldarion, Son of Aragorn..."
The young man looked up at the Kings before him, remaining perfectly still, a calm expression on his face.
"...The charges that are held against you are critical. Aldir, Son of Golmas, Prince of the Easterlings, is accusing you of the murder of his uncle, Gryas the Golden."
Eldarion didn't flinch, and merely kept staring at Faramir.
"Prince Aldir has assured us that he could bring forth several witnesses to testify of your crime," Faramir went on. "In the name of Gondor, I would like to reassure all people gathered here today that this trial shall be led fairly, but with extreme severity. There is no man here who desires to threaten the newly found peace between Free Folks and Easterlings. But before hearing any witness, or study any proof Prince Aldir could present before the judges, we wish to hear the accused, who shall speak his own version of the events first."
There was a short silence, and all in the Great Hall of Minas Tirith stared at Eldarion, standing motionless before the Kings and Princes around him. Since he had been brought there, he had not moved a muscle. Around his wrists, the chains were becoming painful, and he was sure they would leave marks on his skin. But he didn't really care.
Eldarion had longed for years to see again the tall columns that surrounded him now, to lay his eyes on the old stones his feet were resting upon once more. He had never imagined he would stand in the large hall with chains around his wrists though.
"As you are the son of our King, he will not sit in the great throne for your trial," Faramir told the young man standing still before him. "King Elessar shall remain only a member of the jury, made of the Kings, Princes and Lords gathered here. The King has appointed me to conduct this trial in his stead."
Eldarion could feel his father's intense stare fixed upon him, but the young man didn't look at the King, and merely kept staring at Faramir.
"The circumstances being extraordinary," the Prince of Ithilien went on again, "we will not lead this trial as it is usually organized. Many things must be learned before we can judge if you are guilty or not. Since you were back here in the White City, you have always fled all the questions that were asked concerning your long travel through Middle-Earth. These facts cannot remain wrapped in mist any longer, and must be brought to light now."
Eldarion clenched his jaw, but didn't interrupt Faramir. He didn't have a choice. He couldn't flee before questions anymore, and though he would have gladly been buried with the secret of his journey, he knew he would have to confess everything that had happened these past five years before this trial was over. He listened again to Faramir as the man was resuming his speech.
"You shall answer our questions, and tell us everything that has happened whilst you were gone. Only when your story is fully told shall your trial begin. You will not be allowed to present any proof for your defence, nor any witness, before you have answered all our questions concerning your past."
Faramir paused for a brief moment, letting his words sink in.
"Even if you are accused of murder, you are still the son of our King. If you give us your word that you will not try to flee, nor leave the City for any reason that may be, you shall be allowed to go back to your personal chambers instead of the dungeons, and your trial from now on shall happen without chains. Do you swear that you will remain in the White City until your trial is ended, and the sentence, whatever it may be, has been imposed?"
Eldarion nodded slowly.
"I swear," he answered. "I shall remain in the White City as long as the members of this trial shall see fit."
Faramir nodded towards the two guards of the Citadel that were standing next to Eldarion, and they released him from his heavy chains. The young prince massaged his painful wrists, still staring at Faramir.
"Unless anyone has one last word to speak, the trial will begin now," Faramir told the crowd gathered in the Hall of stone.
There was a heavy silence, as no one had anything to add. Faramir turned towards Eldarion again.
"Eldarion, Son of Aragorn," Faramir spoke loudly, his stern voice echoing between the tall pillars of stone, "do you swear on your sacred honour, that you shall speak no lies in those halls, and that all that you may say before these judges is only the truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I swear, on my sacred honour," the young man answered in a clear and calm voice.
"The trial has thus begun."
All in the Hall sat down, and a wooden stool was brought to Eldarion so that he could sit as well.
"Let's start with the beginning," Faramir proposed, and all the judges around him nodded in approbation. "Tell us how your journey began."
Eldarion cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. There were so many things he wanted to keep for himself... But he didn't have a choice. He had to tell his story, or he would be found guilty before his trial had even begun. And death was the sentence required for murder in his Kingdom.
"It was five years ago," Eldarion began, his voice slow and steady, clear and loud so that everyone in the Hall could hear his words. "There had been unrest in the East, Orcs had been seen near our lands, and in the lands of many other Kings and Lords. And so the Council began..."
Five years earlier
Minas Tirith
Darkness was creeping back into the world again. The Dark Lord Sauron had been defeated 35 years before, and yet evil was still looming in the shadows, invisible threat over a reborn land. Peace had spread through every corner of Middle-earth under the reign of King Elessar and, leaderless, the Orcs and Goblins and other dark creatures had fled, hiding in the deepest holes and the most secret tunnels. But a whisper had been heard in Middle-earth, coming from the East, ghost of a new war. Villages burnt, crops destroyed, roads suffering of raids, pillages, thefts... the list was long and the Kings and Lords of the Free Folks of Middle-earth grew worried again, for many of them had fought against the Enemy, and none could forget the desolation of war. But in front of this new threat, nothing could be done without the agreement of all, and so the Council began. To this great gathering came all the Lords of the free lands from the Dwarf Lords of the Iron Hills to the Wooden Elves of Mirkwood, and the King Elessar of Gondor. They all met in the Great Halls of Minas Tirith, where they spoke for a long time of what they had heard in their homelands.
"Orcs have been seen at night at the borders of the Brown Lands, near South Undeep," said King Eomer of Rohan, "the Rohirrims have destroyed them before they could flee eastward. But I doubt it is the only pack of Orcs we will see near our lands in those darkening days..."
"And yet, with only a few Goblins or Orcs, we can hardly speak of an invasion," said Thorin III Stonehelm, "especially when they are seen unorganized and wandering."
"We are not talking about an invasion yet," answered calmly the King of Gondor, "but we must not act as if nothing had happened either. Something is stirring in the distance, and we must be ready for it when it comes and shows itself in its true form. For now, only glimpses can be distinguished from afar, it is true. And yet, in my heart, I feel a great fear of what could come to us if our enemies were more than 'unorganized and wandering' Orcs and Goblins."
"I am not advising that we should remain idle. I am only saying that we must not overreact."
"Clearly it is not your farms that have been burnt, King Dwarf," replied bitterly Eomer.
"We have met Goblins too, Horse Master. Do not think we are not concerned," snapped the King Under the Mountain, suddenly straightening in his chair.
"Then you may stop acting as if this council was only an 'overreaction'," warned Eomer.
"My Lords, please," Elessar calmed the two Kings.
They glowered at each other, but spoke no more of it. Peregrin Took cleared his voice.
"I may not be aware of all the details," said the Hobbit, "but it seems to me that our biggest problem is that we do not know what we are up against."
"Pippin's right," added Master Samwise Gamgee, "we should take first measures to discover what exactly is going on in the East, that ought to be a good start. Like my old Gaffer used to say 'you can't step in water before you know the depth of it, or you might drown in a swamp'."
The Lords couldn't help but laugh.
"Hobbits always have funny words and images for everything," joked Faramir, Prince of Ithilien. "But none can ever deny their wisdom."
"The Hobbits are right," said the Master of Lake-Town. "We cannot fight an enemy we do not know."
"Perhaps we could organize expeditions in the East," proposed the Lord Gilrael, his elven voice melodious and warm.
"With whose troops? And who would lead them?" asked Thorin III.
"We cannot send heavy troops far in the East anyway," said Eomer. "The Men of Rhûn live there, and I doubt they will grant us safe passage through their lands."
"They could take it as a gesture of war," added Faramir, nodding slowly as he was lost in thought.
"It can only be something we do in secret," said Elessar. "If it is indeed more than just a few Orcs, if they are gathering in a clear purpose, they must not learn that we are getting organized as well. The less our enemies will know of our plan, the better."
"We should send some kind of Fellowship," proposed Meriadoc Brandybuck. "Like we did to destroy the One Ring."
"Unless this time I don't volunteer, that's for sure," said Pippin. "I'm way too old for this kind of thing!"
Laughs echoed in the great Hall of stone.
"Again the Hobbits show more wisdom than many chiefs of Men," laughed Legolas Greenleaf. "A Fellowship seems to be the best option to me."
All nodded, and Gimli the Dwarf patted affectionately Merry's shoulder, blowing out a cloud of blue smoke.
"All should be represented," said the Dwarf, still releasing fumes from his lungs, "Men, Dwarves and Elves alike."
"A Wizard would be of great help too," said Samwise. "Gandalf saved us all many times!"
"But the White Wizard has left these shores," replied sadly Legolas.
"Many Wizards and Witches have remained though," said Gilrael.
"But most are now idle, living like hermits," protested Bard II.
"There are some who are still fighting for Middle-earth."
"I have called to this meeting Ana the Green," said the King of Gondor. "She is very important in the circle of Wizards, and is very wise and powerful despite her relatively young age. She had accepted the invitation, but could not arrive today, for she was deep in the Misty Mountains and could not delay her dealings there. She should arrive here in the White City in two days. I shall speak of this matter with her then."
Silence filled up the room. Outside the night had already fallen, covering the sky with strong lights shining like memories of a long forgotten past, whilst the streets were now alit with many fires, and the whisper of life flowing through the stone walls of Minas Tirith could be heard from afar. In the hearth, the fire was dying.
"It is quite late my friends," said Aragorn. "I am sure you will all agree that we need rest more than words now. Let's eat first, and then spend a good night of sleep. Tomorrow, we shall decide what we ought to do."
He swung again his sword through the air. For hours he had been training, repeating again and again the same movements until it would come to him naturally. His father always said that a good warrior could fight without thinking about the movements of his weapon, it was the only way of being fast enough to survive. Out of breath, his arm aching, the young man put down his sword and chased away his dark hair from his eyes. He drank up some water, and swept the sweat away from his forehead. He turned around as the door was being opened behind him.
"You are training again, my son? Is it not a bit late for sword-fighting?"
Eldarion smiled at the sight of his father's lips curving up mischievously.
"I could not sleep," he answered.
The King sat down in an old chair near the fire, extending his long legs before the warm hearth.
"It is a good way of getting tired, of course," he said, smiling frankly now.
"That is precisely what I thought," his son answered.
"I am sure you are not training to try to beat your old father again..."
Eldarion let out a laugh, taking a seat by the fire too.
"First of all, you are not old yet, for proof your way of fighting..."
"I have already strode upon this earth longer than a man should."
"But you are from Númenor, blessed with long life. And for our people, you are not old."
Aragorn let out a small laugh. Silence filled up the space between them, only broken by the shy whisper of the cracking wood burning into red blazes.
"Why could you not sleep, my son?" Elessar asked bluntly.
"I don't know. I was simply not tired."
The King smiled tenderly at his son.
"You are an awful liar Eldarion, just like your mother."
The young prince looked into his father's grey eyes.
"I was worried about the Council," he answered, earnestly this time. "I was worried about what you could decide, and what news the other Kings and Lords could bring from their own lands. I was afraid it might be a greater threat for our people than we had expected."
"We already knew what has been brought to us from afar," Aragorn reassured his son. "And we have not decided anything yet. We have simply talked, but nothing is settled for now."
"I would like to come with you..."
But his father interrupted him with a gesture of his strong hand.
"It is not your place yet. You are still young, and unwise. Besides," he added, rising from his chair, "you know I always tell you everything, or almost everything."
He put a hand on his son's shoulder, who had stood up as well. They were so much alike, and one could think they were only images of the same man in a mirror, only coming from two different periods of time. Eldarion had inherited his father's tall and strong stature, his face both proud and gentle, his gaze burning with a hidden fire, keen and wild, and yet full of mercy and kindness. Although Eldarion's eyes did not have the shade of dark clouds like his father's, they wore a dark brown shade, that turned almost black with the fading lights. He had the noble posture of the people of the North, from long defeated and forgotten, and yet from whose knowledge had passed from a generation to another, and was used in those days to heal the wounds of the world. But some traces of his Elfish mother could also be seen in his graceful silhouette, his smooth form of face, his dark hair... If he had like his father the stern power of the elder people in his charisma, he also had the grace of the Elves in his movements. The balance between his heritage from both his parents made the most wonderful melting possible. He smiled at his father, their eyes meeting in laughter.
"It is late, and I am tired," Aragorn said. "Let's go to sleep."
Eldarion nodded, and closed the door behind them, leaving his sword upon the floor as the fire was dying, letting darkness spread through the room.
The rain was biting into her face like cold arrows flung through the wind. She hurried through the Courtyard, and followed the soldier who was leading her inside the Halls of the White City. In the distance, down the Hall, was sitting the King in his high throne of stone. He was talking with several of his Captains, who were nodding and listening closely to their King's commands. She advanced quickly, shaking away the raindrops on her robes and sweeping the cold water away from her eyes. When he saw her approaching, the King dismissed kindly his Captains, and welcomed the witch warmly.
"Ana the Green, it is a pleasure to see you. Thank you for coming," Aragorn smiled.
"Thank you for inviting me, your Highness."
"We have known each other for too long for you to call me that way."
He stood up, and guided her in an adjacent room. They sat near the fire, so that the witch could get warmer.
"How was your journey?" Elessar asked her.
"Wet at the end!"
They both laughed. She pushed her long brown hair away from her face.
"How did the Council go?" she asked, diving into the subject.
"Not bad," Aragorn answered. "We have all agreed about the threat we are facing, and we all think measures must be taken. Now, an idea has arisen, that we should send people investigate in the East."
"I could not agree more," nodded the witch. "And who would you like to send?"
"That still remains in question. But we were thinking of a fellowship more than an army..."
Ana looked at him, narrowing her eyes.
"A fellowship?"
"It worked quite well the last time we did."
"It was in a different times though. But I must agree with the fact that you cannot send an army in the East, it would be considered as an act of war."
"And we do not need a war with the Easterlings nor any peoples living in deserted lands."
"I do not think our enemies are hiding very far into their territories though. They must be very near the Edge of Rhovanion."
"Still, we must send some of our best people, and figure out what is happening there. We must know what the Orcs and Goblins are up to, we must know their plans."
"I agree."
"Will you help us then?"
The witch turned her gaze to the fire, and remained deep in thought for a few minutes. When she spoke again, her voice was calm and distant, as if she was talking to herself.
"Only a few people would dare to go so far from their homes."
"And you are one of them," Aragorn told her, leaning closer to her. "We must act now, while there is still time."
She looked at him again, frowning with worry.
"The situation is worse than we thought," she said, her voice quite hoarse. "Goblins and Trolls are back in the Misty Mountains, they have tried to steal Eagles' eggs. That's why I was delayed in the North, and could not come earlier. They are getting further than we thought into our lands."
"What do the Wooden Elves say about it?"
She shook her head.
"All wooden elves are not as clear-minded and trustworthy as the Lord Legolas. His father is a stubborn King, and he cares more about his own boundaries than any of his neighbours'. I have friends there, but many of the Elves have departed long ago. I only know that they have fought some groups of Orcs coming from the East, nothing more."
"We must act Ana."
"I know, and I will help you if I can. But it will not be easy."
"I know, and I thank you for your help. Would you agree to be a part of the Fellowship then?"
She smiled, her eyes shining.
"As long as we do not have to be called 'the fellowship'."
They laughed.
"And how would you have yourself called then?" the King asked her merrily.
She thought for a moment, before smiling at Aragorn.
"We are sent away to keep the boundaries of our Kingdoms safe. What about 'The Guard'?"
Elessar smiled at her.
"It would be perfect."
In the afternoon, when the Council resumed, Ana the Green sat near the King of Gondor, and the news of her help in the creation of a group sent away in the East was welcomed enthusiastically.
"Our best soldiers should join you in your journey," said Legolas. "One of each Kingdom shall go with you, and with them the blessing of all the Free Folks."
"There is no need to send a very large group though," the witch replied. "All should be represented, you are right, but I think one of each race is enough to be brought along."
"Shall we send a Hobbit too?" asked Samwise.
"No Sam, there is no need," Elessar answered. "Your people is peaceful, and it is good for us all that they remain that way. I do not wish to send any of your kind away from your homes and peaceful fields again. You have already proved yourselves the last time war was upon us."
"Thank you, it would have been a weight for us all to see any of us go away again," said Merry.
"Now, how will we choose who we are going to send?" asked Thorin III Stonehelm.
"I wish to choose with you," said the witch. "We will have to go through many perils together, and we need to get along."
"Have you already some names in mind?" asked Faramir.
Ana turned towards the King Eomer.
"I thought of Eoden in Rohan. He is a very good man, and a great fighter. He knows perfectly the Lands near the borders of your kingdom, for he has been defending them for a long time now. Both his knowledge and his strength shall prove themselves a great advantage to us."
Eomer thought for a while.
"He is my best Captain, and a man I value very highly."
"We must send our best men Eomer, if it comes that far, they will have to defend themselves against many enemies," said Aragorn to his old friend. "We must send the best we have."
The King of Rohan nodded reluctantly.
"So be it then."
An elf cleared her voice. She was sitting next to Legolas, and had not spoken yet that day.
"I volunteer to represent the Elves in this mission."
Legolas Greenleaf frowned at her.
"Are you certain?"
She nodded, her blond curls brushing her shoulders.
"I am. My knowledge in medicine should be very useful. And more importantly, Ana and I have been friends for many years now," she added, smiling at the witch. "I shall fight by your side my friend."
"Thank you Adhalan," Ana answered, smiling.
"What about the Dwarves?" asked Gimli.
"Urin is a good friend of mine, and a very good smith. I thought he might agree to join us, if I ask him to."
"Goin will never agree to let his brother go without him," Gimli replied, shaking his head.
"Then, I guess he shall come with us too," answered Ana.
"So two Dwarves will go, but only one man?" protested Bard II.
"And only one Elf, and yet we do not ask for more," replied Legolas.
"We can accept another man if it eases your mind," answered Ana.
"It would indeed, thank you."
"Gondor should be represented too," said Pippin. "Someone from the Citadel should go."
The Hobbit turned towards Elessar.
"I know you will choose the right person Strider, and everyone in the Shire will feel better if someone you trust is sent too."
Aragorn nodded.
"I shall choose someone myself to represent my Kingdom then."
"And how are we going to call you? You need a name!" said Master Gamgee.
"Ana thought about 'The Guard'."
Gilrael laughed.
"I recognise you here Ana. It would suit this fellowship quite well I reckon."
All agreed, smiling. The King Elessar stood up, calling the meeting to an end.
"I will choose someone from Gondor. You should send words to the ones we have appointed to this task. They must come here as fast as they can. The sooner the Guard will depart, the better. I only hope it will not be too late."
Aragorn closed his eyes. Against his eyelids, the dying sun was shedding a warmth that was shaking his whole body. He breathed deeply the smell of wet leaves. Without opening his eyes, he recognised the steps of his son approaching behind him.
"Mother told me what happened at the Council. I am glad you have taken a decision."
The King looked at his son, diving into his brown eyes.
"We have indeed.".
Eldarion leaned against the banister, next to his father. In the distance, the Mountains of Mordor were like a dark wall enclosing the horizon. The sky above the black peaks was on fire, as if the flames were coming from the desolated land itself, igniting the cloudless skies with fierce sparks. For a while, nor father nor son spoke a word.
"Have you already chosen someone to represent Gondor?" Eldarion finally asked.
"I have not set my choice upon anyone yet, no. It is a difficult decision to take, and the lives of many will depend on it. Perhaps I should send one of our Captains... Though in my soul I wish I could go myself."
"Have you ever been in Rhûn?"
"I have. But it was a long time ago, when the Dark Lord was still a whisper from afar. It was before the War, before I became who I was meant to be, when I was still a Ranger."
"How was it?"
Elessar lost his gaze in the golden shades of the snowy Mountains on his right.
"Desolated, lonely, dry. These are no lands you want to go unless you have to. I wonder if it has changed, now that Sauron is defeated, and that no man in these lands can swear him allegiance anymore. The wars against the Easterlings have been long, I'm afraid our peace with them could be endangered."
Eldarion took a deep breath before speaking again.
"Father, an idea has been in my mind since I learnt about the choice you have to make."
"What is it, my son?"
He looked at his father, whose gaze was still fixed upon the horizon.
"I want to go."
Aragorn turned his attention towards him, frowning.
"I want to go with the Guard," the young man repeated. "I want to be a part of it."
The King shook his head.
"It is too dangerous."
"You always say a good King is a King who has seen enough of the world to know about the perils he must protect his people from. You always say I am not wise enough. I know you are right, I have not enough experience in life yet to take decisions as a King. So let me go in Rhûn, let me have a chance to learn."
"You are my heir, the heir to the throne of Gondor and Arnor. We cannot take this risk," the King replied.
"How am I supposed to learn about the world if you shield me from it?"
"There is a difference between showing you the world, and sending you to Rhûn."
"Sooner or later, you will have to let me face the world beyond the boundaries of Gondor and Arnor. I must see war too, you said it yourself."
"You are not ready."
"I am never ready with you!"
Eldarion breathed deeply, calming down, trying to control the shakiness in his voice.
"I want to do something, something important for once."
"I will not take the risk to leave our people without an heir," Aragorn coldly answered.
He put a hand on his son's shoulder, looking at him in the eyes.
"I will not take the risk to lose my only son."
"If war comes upon us, will I be more ready to fight? Will I be ready because war is upon my home?"
Aragorn didn't answer, and so Eldarion went on.
"I can fight. You have taught me all there is to know about ancient medicine, Mother has taught me elfish medicine as well. I know how to find the safest path with the sun and the stars. I am as ready as I will ever be. You simply refuse to see it."
But Aragorn shook his head again.
"You are too young..."
"I am a grown man, I am no child anymore!" replied Eldarion, his voice shaking with anger.
Despite his best efforts to remain calm, he had raised his voice.
"A man would accept the commands of his King!" said Aragorn, raising his voice as well. "And you, Child, should learn your place!"
Eldarion clenched his jaw.
"I do accept the commands of my King. But I am not forced to agree with my father. For we both know the one who is refusing me this mission now, is not my King."
It was Aragorn's turn to clench his jaw.
"You are not refusing to send me because I am not ready, or because I am not a good fighter. You know I am the best warrior in this Kingdom. You know I have the skills and knowledge for this mission. You are simply afraid to let me be a man too."
Eldarion turned on his heels and strode out of the balcony and into his father's private office, before walking into the corridor. Aragorn remained standing there for a while, lost in thought. When he moved away from the banister, it was night already, and the dark Mountains of Mordor had disappeared in the shadows.
Arwen looked at her husband for a while. He was leaning against the wall near their bed, by the window, staring at the flickering lights that the fireflies were igniting in the shadows. She stood up, and walked by his side and he started when she touched his arm.
"Why are you so worried, Estel?"
He took her in his arms, and held her tightly against him.
"I was merely thinking," he answered, his voice sounding like it came from far away.
"About the soldier you will send with the witch?"
Aragorn sighed.
"Eldarion came to see me this evening. He wants to go."
Arwen looked at him, horrified.
"You cannot send him! You cannot send our son!"
"He is not a child anymore, my love."
"He is still our son! He is my baby, our baby!"
"He is a man, and one day he will be King. He must know about what the world has in store against us."
"There are other ways."
"He is ready."
She narrowed her eyes.
"What words did he speak to convince you?"
"Words of my own."
"He is so young still!"
"He is twenty-six, many who have died in battle were much younger."
"He does not realize what it means, what he will have to face."
"Maybe it is precisely the reason why he must depart for the East."
He took her hands in his. Her long, graceful fingers had turned cold with fear.
"We cannot protect him forever," Aragorn said in a whisper. "He is my son too, and I love him with all my heart. But keeping him here, unspoiled, is not doing him a favour. He must grow, and learn, if we want him to be a good and wise guide for our people."
"Your words sound like wisdom, and yet my heart is breaking in my chest already."
He caressed her soft cheek.
"Mine is breaking as well, but it also tells me to let him live the life he wants for himself. The decision is also his to take."
Arwen nodded slowly, defeated.
"If you think it is what is meant to be done."
He took her in his arms again.
"I am afraid... I do not know what is meant to be done anymore."
Eldarion entered his father's office, a lump in his throat. The previous night, he had spoken his heart, but he knew it was not what his father wanted to hear. He found the King standing by the window, looking outside, though Eldarion knew he was seeing nothing of the cloudless morning, he was staring at the world while lost in thought.
"You asked to see me," the young man said softly.
Aragorn turned around slowly.
"I did."
He remained there, standing still, and didn't propose his son to take a seat. Eldarion knew for experience that is was not a good sign. Suddenly, he felt like a young boy who had been caught exploring the castle in the middle of the night again. He forced himself to stand straighter.
"I have thought about who should represent Gondor in the Guard," Elessar spoke slowly.
Eldarion's heart skipped a beat.
"Have you come to a decision then?"
"I have indeed."
Aragorn took several steps towards his son, and looked straight into his eyes.
"You shall depart as soon as the other members have arrived. It should not take very long. Two, maybe three weeks at the most."
Eldarion raised an eyebrow.
"Me?"
"You were right last night," Aragorn answered. "You are ready, and you are probably the best warrior I could send."
He paused briefly, before speaking again, even more slowly.
"You must understand that I did not refuse at first because I doubt you, but because you are my son."
"I understand, I have responsibilities towards our people."
Aragorn smiled sadly.
"I never think about our people when it comes to you, or any of your sisters."
He took his son's face in both his hands.
"You are my son. I would never forgive myself if any harm was coming to you. One day, you will have children of your own, and you will understand how it feels to be ready to do anything to keep them safe. You will understand then, how it feels to value the life of someone above all things, above your own life, even above your kingdom."
He let go of his son, who remained speechless.
"But you are a man now, and it is time for you to choose your own path. And it is time for me to let go. Though, it does not mean I will let you go away from home like this."
Eldarion narrowed his eyes, smiling by now. Elessar reached for something behind his desk. When he faced his son again, he was holding an old, but royal sheath in his hands.
"I want you to have it. It protected me during the War, and allowed me to vanquish many perils. The power within this blade has kept darkness away from our lands for many generations. And since the days of Elendil, it has been the guardian of peace, in our lands and afar. May it protect you from all evil and harm that may come across your path."
Eldarion wrapped his shaking fingers around Anduril, Flame of the West, the sword of the Kings. The young man felt tears blurring his vision.
"I shall do my best to be worthy of such a blade. I will make you proud."
Aragorn smiled, tears also in his eyes. He touched his son's cheek, making him look at him.
"I am already proud of you, son."
Words had been sent away to call for the ones who had been chosen to go in the East. Ana was already beginning to prepare their departure, organizing their provisions, their weapons... For now she was in one of the oldest chambers of the White City, where the knowledge of the kingdoms of the West of Middle-earth was safely kept and protected. She was surrounded by all the maps of the Eastern lands she had been able to gather, trying to find the best paths for her and her companions to take. She turned on her chair when she heard footsteps echoing upon the floor of polished stone. She smiled at the sight of the King of Gondor.
"Already getting ready to run away?" he asked, the ghost of a smile curving his lips.
"You know how much I hate politics. I will soon have to run for my life."
A silence fell between them. The torches were enlightening the dark room with a soft shade of red and gold, the fading roar of the blazes breaking the stillness of the old memories that haunted the dusty air. Finally, the witch spoke again, her low voice sounding like a cry in the deep silence.
"Have you taken a decision?" she asked the King.
"I have indeed," he answered slowly.
He looked at a map that had been thrown away on another table, examining the fading lines of black ink that traced the roads and the boundaries of their world. Just a few drops of dark ink, that had led them to so many wars and deaths and desolations in the past, so many sacrifices for a line on a piece of parchment... And now he was sending his son to defend these same lines too. He sighed heavily, letting the map fall back on the table.
"Eldarion shall go with you."
The witch frowned hard.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Eldarion, my son, shall accompany you and your companions to the East."
She could not believe her ears.
"But, if I may..."
"The decision has been taken, and shall not change."
"You cannot send your son."
"Why could I not?"
"Because I cannot assure you that he will come back. Because I need a warrior, not a Prince..."
"Eldarion is an excellent fighter. He is the best Captain I have. And he must go, he must see what is out there."
"He has never killed anyone," she protested. "He has merely arrested a few criminals, that doesn't make a warrior of him. There has not been any fighting in Gondor for years."
"It is precisely why he must depart by your side."
"This mission is everything but an educative expedition."
"I would be grateful if you could watch your tone."
She bit her tongue.
"We have known each other for many years," she said more softly. "We have known each other before the War, when you were only a Ranger in exile, and we have always been friends. You have always trusted me, all those years..."
"And you have always respected my judgement as well."
"I cannot promise he will come back."
"Noted."
"And if he does come back, he will not be the same."
"It is one of the purpose actually, my old friend. He needs to live what he may have to face in his own lands one day. The meeting has shown one thing: many think we are overreacting. If they keep thinking this way, we may have to fight for the protection of our people. Eldarion needs to remember that. He needs to learn from others too, he needs to open his mind to the world."
He leaned towards the witch, looking intensely in her green eyes.
"I trust you, Ana. If there is one person in Middle-earth to show him, and to bring him home safely, it is you."
He stood up, striding through the room.
"I guess there are no words I can say to make you change your mind?" she called.
"None my friend."
"And I guess my point of view does not count at all, and that I should consider this as a command from my King."
On the threshold, Aragorn turned around again. The light of the torches was igniting Ana's eyes, already burning with anger.
"You may do so, if it eases your mind."
He walked away, leaving the witch alone to fight her anger. She regretted so much the days of Strider the Ranger...
"So your father accepted after all?"
Eldarion nodded, a bright smile on his face. He looked at his best friend for a while, but didn't answer. He knew he didn't need to speak for Eren to understand his thoughts. After all, they had been friends since childhood. Eren's father being one of the King's advisers, and a very respected General, Eren had spent most of his childhood in the Halls of stones of the Citadel. Eldarion and him had learned to read, and write, and fight together. They were like brothers.
"When are you leaving?" Eren asked.
"I don't know yet. As soon as they have all arrived I guess," Eldarion answered.
"I'm happy for you. But I have to admit that I shall miss your company."
Eldarion smiled once again, patting his friend's shoulder.
"I won't be gone for such a long time I'm sure."
"I wish I could come with you."
"And how could Minas Tirith survive without one of its best soldier?"
"I am merely a Guard of the Citadel..."
"Your father is a commander in our army, I doubt that you will remain a soldier for long. Who knows... perhaps you shall be a Captain when I come back."
"I hope you will not be gone so long."
Eldarion didn't say a word, and merely set his brown gaze on the city before him. From the tower, they could see the city and the long blade of grass of the Pelennor splayed under the sun.
"I think I will miss this view," the Prince finally whispered.
"I would miss it as well," Eren admitted. "It is home."
Eldarion suddenly turned to his friend, setting his intense brown glance upon him.
"I need you to do me a favour."
"You know you can ask anything from me," Eren earnestly answered.
"Could you look after my sisters while I'm gone?"
Eldarion ran a nervous hand through his jet black hair.
"I mean..." he went on. "I would feel better if I knew that someone in the city was taking care of them. I have always been the one who made sure that they would be safe..."
"You can count on me."
The two men exchanged a smile, before setting their glances back upon the golden fields bathed with the red light of a dying sun.
Both their hearts were heavier than they would admit.
During the three days that followed, the witch did her best to avoid Eldarion. She did not like the fact that the decision had been taken without her, and more importantly, she believed the Prince was not the best choice possible. He was known to be skilled with a bow and arrow as well as a blade, but it was not enough for the witch. She was looking for people fully trained, but more importantly, kind hearted. She was going in the East under the will and the blessing of all kingdoms in Middle-Earth because she was leaving in order to investigate on the Orcs' movements, but she was secretly hoping to do some good too along the way. She was known to help populations wherever she was going, and again her will to help the ones in need was the strongest. She was not only travelling in the Eastern Lands to spy, she was going there to help people on the road too. She had chosen people who had the same will of defending the weakest and helping the poorest, except for Eldarion. He was not altogether evil, and she knew it, but still compared to the others, he could destroy everything. All her efforts were going to crumble down if the Prince could not see how important it was to help the people they were meeting as they were progressing eastward. What if he refused and pushed them onwards without a look behind? She did not know him enough to be sure that he was not narrow-minded. And for as long as she was in the Castle, she could not betray herself, and the Prince was a risk she could not take, and so she took great care in remaining as far from him as possible.
Adhalan spent some time with the Prince however, advising him on how he could organize their departure. The Elf had never been in the Eastern Lands either, but she did her best to help him getting prepared. She had a kind nature, and found the young man friendly. They were getting along quite well, and soon her first apprehensions were dissipated. He was an excellent fighter, and seemed strong enough to endure long journeys. She was quite satisfied by the choice of the King by the end of the first week.
The first warrior to arrive was Eoden, Captain of the Rohirrim. He bent gracefully before all Lords and Kings and Ladies and Queens who had gathered to welcome him. His hair was long and blond as corn bathed in the summer sun. His beard covered his strong jaw, and his blue eyes were like two drops of azure sky. He was tall and strong, in his early thirties, and though all his being let transpire strength and let guess his skills in combat, he had a gentle way of talking, and moving, and behaving in general. He looked like the most powerful Rohirrim, feared by his foes, and yet his touch was softer than rain. He felt awkwardly uneasy in official circumstances, and for as long as he was forced to meet important people, his face was tensed.
But at last he arrived at the level of the witch, and a smile curved up his lips.
"Ana! How long it has been my friend!"
He took her in his big arms and crushed her against him, and she laughed, hugging him as well.
"It has been far too long indeed!" she laughed.
The King Eomer put a hand on his captain's shoulder.
"We have much to discuss," he said.
Eoden nodded and followed his King to the Council Chamber, and there they all discussed of the mission they were planning. At the end of the meeting, Eldarion guided the Rohirrim to his room.
"This will be your furthest journey from home yet then?" Eoden asked the young man.
"It will be indeed," he answered.
"And why did Ana choose you, if I may ask? After all, it seems to me that you are not friends."
"My father appointed me to represent our Kingdom in this mission."
"Oh, I see..."
Eldarion looked at the warrior.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Well... Ana did not seem particularly fond of you, and it was hard for me to see the reason why she had chosen you. But it is clear now."
"I believe she is avoiding me," Eldarion confessed.
Eoden let out a laugh.
"As we are going to spend a lot of time together, let me give you an advice concerning Ana. She is the most generous and the bravest person I know, but it always takes her some time to trust anyone."
They arrived before the door of the Rohirrim's bedroom. Eoden put a hand on the doorknob, but turned towards the prince again.
"Do not judge her by the way she behaves with you for now. She will need some time to decide if she should trust you or not, but once you have earned her friendship, it will be granted to you forever, and you will see that there is no more loyal friend than her."
"Thank you for your advice, I shall remember it."
"One more thing if I may," the man of Rohan added. "I hope you will agree to abandon the titles between us. It shall be quite annoying if we cannot even call each other by our names."
Eldarion smiled at him.
"I hoped you would agree to it myself, Eoden."
"Thank you again for showing me the way."
Eoden closed the door behind him, leaving the Prince alone in the corridor, a satisfied feeling brightening his face. He liked the warrior, and he felt he would be a great ally if the Prince wanted to bring down the witch's defences.
Eoden and Eldarion were closer every day. They spent hours fighting, enjoying such a competitor to fight, and they would pass entire afternoons in the old room where Eldarion used to train alone. They would come out in the early evening, sweating, their muscles aching, but laughing all the same. Eoden was an honourable and kind man, and Eldarion liked the simplicity of his being, while the man of Rohan appreciated the merry mood of the Prince and his sharpness of mind. The Rohirrim insisted on Ana getting to know Eldarion better, but despite the fact that he himself was becoming friend with the young man, the witch was still keeping her distance. When she spoke with the Prince, she was courteous, but always distant, a cool tone in her voice. Her green eyes grew worried when he entered the room, and her beautiful and graceful face, full of kindness, was suddenly tensed when she heard his name. But at the arrival of the two Dwarves, she was forced to change her attitude, for the two brothers were merry and wanted the whole group to gather and discuss their journey. They were both stout, with dark hair and long beards decorated with elaborated rings of silver. After he had finished his second beer, Urin finally spoke, his cavernous voice rolling through the gardens in full bloom.
"I believe you have already set up a course for us to follow, my dear Ana."
The witch winked at him.
"Everything is ready. We can go whenever you and your brother are rested enough."
"Just give us a couple of days, and we'll be ready to slain as many Orcs as you can get!" said Goin, laughing loudly.
"That is only if you remain sober enough!" said the She-Elf.
Urin narrowed his eyes, and snorted loudly.
"I could remind you that we Dwarves are excellent drinkers!"
"Good drinkers does not mean you can hold this liquor!" said Eoden, laughing.
"You, Blond-Charmer, should not get involved in that debate!"
"Now that you have called me by this stupid nickname again, I reckon I should, on the contrary."
"Don't mind them," said Goin to the young Prince, leaning towards him. "They're all a bit crazy!"
"You are the craziest of us all!" protested Urin.
"You old maggot, 'course I'm not."
"Yes, you are," agreed Eoden.
The group was laughing, and merry, and Eldarion was glad. He liked the personality of all of them, and believed that they could all get along fine, and even become great friends. Only Ana remained cold with him. But nonetheless, as the hours were flying away and the afternoon was slowly bringing orange shades to the sky, he could guess another side of her personality. She had laughed, and been merry, and when she smiled it seemed to him that the world was getting brighter, and her eyes were shining with a thousand tickling sparks of joy, that seemed like trembling stars over the treetops of a long forgotten forest. When time came for them to talk about their journey, and their rations, and their weapons, and all the things they had still to plan before their departure to the Eastern Lands, her voice was strong, and command made her tone firm. Her knowledge of the world was great and though her face seemed to belong to a woman in her early twenties, her wisdom betrayed her age and the many lives of men she had already spent travelling and protecting Middle-Earth. Although he had grown quite tired of her distant behaviour towards him, he could hardly help himself from feeling impressed by her. Finally, when the evening was already old and stars were lighting up the infinite sky, the six Guardians finally headed back to their rooms, for everything was now settled and planed. Final preparations would be made the next day, and two days later, they would start their long journey to the East.
"Are you certain that you are taking enough food?"
"Yes, mother, I am."
"And your clothes?"
"Everything is ready."
"Are you sure you have all the herbs your father and I gave you?"
"Yes, mother, in my bag."
"And the maps, what about..."
But Eldarion shushed her, chuckling.
"Mother, I am ready to go. I am not forgetting anything, I am sure."
Arwen took her son in her arms.
"This whole idea is folly!" she said, squeezing him against her.
"Mother..."
He made her look at him.
"I am ready to leave. I have to. I must see by myself all the dangers father and you have taught me to fight, I must see the world as it is beyond the safe walls of our City. I have to go. Do you understand?"
She caressed tenderly his cheek, nodding, her eyes full of tears.
"I do understand. But to me, you are still the baby who used to cry when he could see neither of his parents. To me, you are still my little boy, and you always will be, for it is the doom of parents to worry about their children long after they have stopped needing them."
Eldarion took his mother in his arms again.
"I will always need you, mother," he said softly.
"I love you, Eldarion."
"I love you too."
A knock on the door broke the silence of their embrace, and Aragorn came into the room. Eldarion and Arwen let go of each other.
"It is time," said the King. "Everything is ready. You shall take the path that leads to the Mountains, and nobody will notice your departure, nor know the direction you have taken. Is Anduril by your side?"
Eldarion nodded, holding the pommel of his sword. Elessar got closer to him, resting his hands on his son's shoulders.
"Be careful, my son."
"I will."
Aragorn took his son in his arms, his eyes wet with tears. He knew he had taken the right decision, and yet in his chest his heart was breaking at the sight of his son leaving him.
"Promise me," you whispered in Eldarion's ear, and not even Arwen could hear what Aragorn was telling his son, "promise me to come back safe and sounds. Promise me you will come back to us."
Eldarion tightened his grip on his father, fighting tears.
"I promise," he answered.
A silence endured for a while, before Aragorn spoke again, his voice made shaky by his tears.
"I love you, son."
Eldarion closed his eyes, feeling warm tears flowing down upon his cheeks.
"I love you too, father."
When they looked at each other, both of them were crying.
They walked out of Eldarion's room, after all three of them had dried their cheeks, and Eldarion bid farewell to his sisters, holding them close to him one by one. Finally, he was ready to leave, and he joined his companions in the Hall of stone, and before the throne of his father, all the Kings and Lords who had come to the Council were gathered to see their departure. As they were about to leave, after the Kings had blessed them with the good will of all the Free Folks, the Hobbits took a step towards the Witch.
"Here, for the road," Pippin told her, handing her some tobacco leaves.
She breathed deeply the scent of Longbottom Leaf, the best pipe weed of the Shire.
"Thank you Pip," she said, kissing the Hobbit's brow.
They shared their goodbyes, and the Hobbits said farewell to Eldarion too.
"You... be careful on the road," said Merry, who was particularly fond of the man.
"Do not worry about me, Merry, I'll be just fine."
"If you listen to what she says, you will be," Samwise advised him.
"I will, Sam."
He stood up and joined the other Guardians. They walked through forgotten tunnels and paths carved deep in the rocks of the Mountains. When they finally came out, a swift breeze was reddening their cheeks, and the light of the stars were shining brightly. Eldarion turned around, taking one last glance at the White City, its walls bathed in Moonlight. He felt his heart tightening in his chest, a weight suddenly bending slightly his shoulders. He knew he missed his home already. But he shook himself, standing straighter again, turning around, and following the others in the deep shadows of the night.