Note:
I hate to start Return of the King on a boring talk-y chapter – but sometimes they're required to figure out what everyone is going to do next.
Annamir felt like death. Her head swam, her stomach roiled; every sound was like a Nazgul cry, every torch burned her eyes like she was staring unblinking into the sun itself. Worst of all, people kept trying to talk to her, when all she wanted to do was feel sorry for herself while attempting to fit together the mass of jumbled images she had in her head from the night before. She remembered drinking (of course), some enthusiastic dancing and even more enthusiastic singing. She remembered standing on a table for a time, talking with great fervour about – something. Whatever it was had earned her a great deal of applause so clearly she'd been bloody eloquent.
The fellowship stood in the centre of the Meduseld's Feasting Hall, arms crossed, brows furrowed, deep in discussion with Theoden and his inner circle about what to do next. With Saruman's assault on the kingdom of Rohan now at an end, all eyes were on the kingdom of Gondor. For many years had the forces of Mordor marauded through Ithilien and besieged the city of Osgiliath. Spooked by Saruman's demise, Sauron would strive for a decisive victory against men. And, of course, the Ring still needed to be dealt with. While the fellowship never admitted to the men of Rohan that Nelwen carried the Ring of Power (too risky, even among allies), it was stressed that they had important business to see to in the east.
Shortly following the battle for Helm's Deep, a messenger had arrived with news from Isengard. The Ents, spurned by Gandalf's encouragements and distressed by Saruman's careless decimation of the natural beauty surrounding Orthanc, had taken Isengard, destroying the foundries and taking Saruman captive. Gandalf had immediately departed to gleam some intelligence from his former friend, hoping to ascertain Sauron's intensions. Unfortunately, no intelligence had been forthcoming and the fellowship and Theoden's advisors now postulated and theorised with little concrete evidence.
Even without proof to support his claims, Gandalf spoke with conviction. "Our victory at Helm's Deep has shown Sauron one thing: men are not as weak as he once supposed. There is courage still among the race of men. Perhaps even enough strength to challenge him. Sauron will not risk the peoples of Middle Earth uniting under one banner. He will move to strike the city of Minas Tirith, destroy it in one fell swoop!" Gandalf swung out his arms to punctuate his words, his long white cloak billowing dramatically around him. Turning to fix King Theoden with a pointed stare, he concluded, "if the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready to march to war."
Hush descended on the group as they pondered what Gandalf had said. Theoden stood with head bowed in thought, his hands clasped behind his back. "Tell me," he began softly, shifting his weight in discomfort, "why should we ride to the aide of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"
Anna felt a surge of anger at Theoden's words, the implication that the men of Gondor had not come to Rohan's aide because they were vindictive and not because they were busy keeping Mordor's army at bay. From the look on the faces of the other members of the fellowship, they shared her anger. Aragorn, in particular, seemed furious, but also disappointed.
"I will go," said Aragorn, "they must be warned!" The strength in his proclamation made Anna smile; she was apparently warming to the man.
"Not you," said Gandalf, expression pinched, "they will be warned." The wizard moved closer to Aragorn, lowered his voice and looked meaningfully at him. "You must come to Minas Tirith by another route; follow the coast."
Annamir loved Gandalf dearly, trusted him completely, and would gladly follow him wherever he bade. But his penchant for cryptic riddles was infuriating and Annamir, suffering from her indulgences from the night before, was lacking in patience. "So what's the plan? Are we all heading to Minas Tirith?" she snapped.
"No," said Gandalf, "Aragorn and I have business in Minas Tirith. You and Nelwen will continue to North Ithilien and onto Mordor; your task cannot wait."
The men of Rohan looked at the fellowship with a combination of wariness and curiosity. If they had suspicions of what the fellowship's quest entailed, they kept their reservations to themselves.
"Annamir and I head to Mordor alone?" asked Nelwen, her voice sounding uncharacteristically small.
Gandalf looked at the elf almost apologetically. "Things are in motion that cannot be undone. Aragorn and I must ride to Minas Tirith. And you must complete the task with which you have been charged."
Nelwen nodded with resignation, stroked idly at her tunic where the Ring hung hidden below. Annamir tried to send her a reassuring smile but Nelwen did not look at her, did not look at anything, only stared into the middle distance. Surveying her friends, their faces pinched and shoulders bowed, Annamir felt the weight of responsibility settling upon her. The revelries of the night before suddenly seemed very long ago.