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Chapter One: ConsequencesMy eyes spy the torch of Cair Andros' prow
And stars alit upon the great queen's brow
The lamps of once great Valar days
Destroyed by darkness, here they layMy eyes spy the light of the rising sun
On the horselord's lands, the battle's won
The candle burns where small folk laugh
Behind frosted windows of the perrianath
And far below in chambers deep
The lanterns wake khazad from sleep
My eyes spy the white city's lamps a high
Terrace lit by torches beneath darkened sky
And in mountain vales the silver light
Of the elven homes aglow at night
It was one of the first rhymes the children of Gondor learned when they were still very small, The Light Song, and even at the age of 17, Eldarion could recite its familiar lines, the words feeling warm and comforting as they rolled over his tongue. Children learned it to remember the names of the Great Races, and also as a lullaby, sung in the dark when children still feared the beasts that lay in shadowy corners of thier sleeping chambers. It was a song that had once held great importance to Eldarion; it was the one poem he had known as a child, the one thing he once recited along with his mother when she sang him goodnight in quenya, and a reassurance of his own safety. If something spooky entered his rooms, he knew he had light to protect him. Mother had, as usual, made sure it was an educational experience, as she had done for all of her children. He had learned it in three tongues: sindarin, quenya, and in the speech of men, which sometimes varied by night. Each had been fairly easy, as they were tongues he had grown up speaking, but as he grew older sometimes he began to forget the words in common tongue, remembering only the quenya his mother had sung when he was but a baby.
And now, standing beside the great black doors to the throne room, his nerves growing tenser with each moment, those same words came back to him.
He whispered the first lines again, glancing around at the empty hallway before him. The windows were just beginning to glow with the dim light of the rising sun, now showing its first rays. He could hardly imagine what time it must be, perhaps 3 or 4 in the morning. A servant passed by, dressed in the black velvets of the chamberlains. Eldarion let his worried mind float for a minute, his eyes lazily following the trail of the busy servant, then turn back to the black wood at his front. Mother and father waited behind those doors, as well as half a dozen punishments and lectures for his probable 'poor judgement.' He had to admit, this was much worse than he ever thought it could possibly be...
It had all started with the performers, a troop of artisans who were gathered at the city's center to perform that night. Luthiel, who probably was with mother and father as he stood outside, had said herself that morning that she was going to go, whether mother or father wanted her to or not. Sneaking out was not a new pastime for Eldarion or his siblings and friends; the only way mother or father let them out to the lower city was with a guard, and guards were very senseless and awkward things to carry around on what could otherwise be exciting outings. So, the children often left their parents without them, or just didn't bother to ask for permission at all. Often, they got away with it. Other times, they were not as fortunate. Normally, mother was the one who distributed the harshest punishments for such trips; father wasn't one for punishment, and only for the most serious of thier childhood crimes did he give them any lectures for their behavior. Sometimes he even sympathized with their causes, which always made Eldarion smile; after all, father was Eldarion's age but a few decades ago, whereas mother had been of a teenage mindset over a thousand years before.
But today he may not get away with nothing but a few words and a smirk from his father. The consequences of the recent events were surely much worse than any he had done before, and as he thought back to what had happened, he realized why.
He and Luthiel had gone to watch the performers, without a guard of course and without thier parents' permission. The first act had begun at sundown, and by the second act it was nearly midnight. They had both forgotten the time, and their absences at home had most likely been noticed by then. This hardly worried Eldarion; in fact, it was almost a challenge. He and Luth were always "testing the limits" as mother put it, going to the edge of reason and safety and seeing how far they could tarry without harm. Eothair, Eldarion and Luthiel's good companion and also the son of Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn, was the only one who normally tried to stop them. Eothair, as father put it, "makes up for you and your sister's great lack of judgement and overall reason." And reasonable he was! Eothair, despite his loyalty to Eldarion and Luthiel, had left before the second act, begging the two to come with him so as to not be scolded for tardiness. Eldarion hadn't said much, as the second act of the tragedy describing a Numenorean war epic was becoming more interesting than he had imagined, but Luthiel had insisted that Eothair stay with them until the first act had finished. It was very hard for Eothair to deny his friends, and something he rarely did, but he had done it that night, and hurried off alone to the palace, leaving his friends behind even after Luthiel's invitation. The circumstances of Eothair's return to the palace were something Eldarion did not know, and he had an inkling that Eothair's probable absence from the palace now had something to do with the long lecture that awaited him.
Eldarion fingered the makeshift bandage wrapped around his neck, the pain coming and going as he moved. He shivered as a cold wind blew from the open windows behind him, and ran his fingers through his almost- shoulder- length black hair. The same color as his mother's and all his siblings, it was sleek and thick, and during the day he almost always had to pull it back behind his head.
His physical appearance was something he was extremely humble about, though there were many who envied his good looks. His features were fine in quality, all, especially his grey-blue eyes, giving hint of elven heritage. He stood taller than most in Minas Tirith, and always kept in good physical shape; his martial work was becoming renowned, though not nearly like his sister Luthiel's had. Eldarion's eyes were what set him apart, eyes that made him look almost at once older than he was, eyes of immortality. Their grey-blue color made them shimmer and shine in both daylight and shadow, and gave light to the features of his face. His expression was clear and intelligent at all times, his smile sincere and his voice both commanding and kind. He knew that many a girl in Gondor had their heart set upon him, though Eldarion had never thought about returning the favor.
It was not always expected of him to dress like a prince, as a prince he was, but since his wardrobe consisted mostly of such attire, he found himself wearing it more often than he pleased. He did not favor the velvets and silks so common in Minas Tirith; his favorite outfit was his hunting attire, soft greens and blues adorned with gold threads, and as comfortable as ever. They were a gift from his uncles Elladan and Elrohir two years ago, and thier elven make allowed him to blend in virtually anywhere, including the streets of Gondor. To most, they looked like peasant or street garb, but on closer inspection the fine threads of pure gold shone of their higher quality. It was these clothes he was wearing then, with only the top tunic missing, as he always wore when he went out into the streets of Gondor, and he hadn't had any time to change when he had returned to the palace. In fact, he hadn't had time to return to his quarters at all. The guards had brought him straight to here.
Of course, it hadn't been as simple as leaving the play late and coming back to the palace. There had also been the issue of the criminals who were working for the company, picking pockets as the unknowing spectators gazed upon the act on the stage. Eldarion wasn't the first to notice one of the shadowy fellows moving his way toward their position in the crowd; Luthiel's sharp eyes had caught sight of him first, and pointed him out to Eldarion.
"Eldi," she hissed, leaning in towards his ear.
"Hmm?" he said, barely turning from the performers onstage, now quoting long lines from a high king's death speech.
"Eldi!" she hissed even louder, grabbing his shirtsleeve and pulling him towards her.
"What?" he groaned, shrugging her hand away, "I'm trying to watch, Luth."
"Don't be stupid. Everyone else wanted to watch too and look where they're landed."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"See the man over there?" She pointed to a black cloaked figure slinking behind a large group of shaved head scholars, laughing amongst themselves as they watched the performance. Eldarion gasped as the man proceeded to cut the purses hanging beneath their belts and slip the contents into a bag tied round his own waist.
"He robbed them!"
"Well of course he did, he's a cutpurse...and if you've been as absorbed in this whole play as you were just now, then you probably have been robbed as well." Eldarion reached to the pouch hanging behind him from his own belt. Luckily, the two silver pieces he had put in earlier were still there, and he let out a sigh of relief.
"They're still here." He breathed, turning to her. Luthiel gave him a half-smile before beginning to walk away from the stage. "But something has to be done...there could be trouble from this, you know."
"Oh, I know, trust me." She smiled again, a slier one this time.
"Well, the purse..." He stammered, watching as she slowly walked away.
"It's there, you said?"
"Yes."
"That's good," She murmured. "Although it would have been a lot more fun if someone had robbed you, or gutted you and left you in the streets, or-"
"That's not funny." He growled, striding after her. "And where are you going, anyway?"
"Home...where else?"
"But what about the cutpurses?"
"What about them?" She casually raised an eyebrow, still pushing towards the back of the crowd. Eldarion stopped in his own tracks, holding out his hand.
"Now wait; don't tell me you really plan to just leave-"
"Why not?"
"Well...I don't know...people are being robbed after all. Shouldn't we do something about it?"
"And why would we do a thing like that?" she said, rolling her eyes and not stopping as she meandered through the crowd, Eldarion reluctantly following.
"Because it's right!" He blurted out. "If we fought and revealed the criminals it would be-"
"Noble?" Luthiel gave him a disapproving look. "Eldi, there's more to the world than noble deeds and family honor and all that bullshit they throw in our faces. It's called 'minding our own business, going home, and not getting in trouble.' Doesn't that sound much better?"
"We're late as it is, thanks to your judgment, so it doesn't matter when we get home at this point; there'll be a punishment waiting for us anyway. Besides Luth, I thought you were the one who was up for the adventure; always throwing yourself into danger whenever you get the chance..."
"I hate to tell you this Eldi, but there really isn't much danger involved in a street fight...besides, it's time we got home, whether we'll be punished both ways or not. I love a sword fight just as much as the next man, but this is really ridiculous, and the play got far too boring for my tastes an hour ago..."
"Wait a minute!" Eldarion smirked, his eyes sparkling. "I understand what's going on, you hypocrite. You talk to me about honor being bullshit and here the only reason you won't go fighting a street thief is because you think he's below your standards!"
"That's not true, Eldi." Luthiel huffed, rolling her eyes angrily. "I just don't want a brawl, alright? This sort of thing leads to-"
"It never stopped you before! We practically got arrested that time-"
"And we'll be near close to it again if we don't get the hell out of here." She whined, grabbing his sleeve. "Look, I'm in a tight situation as it is, mum and all..."
"What?"
"It's nothing...nothing for right now...but..."
"Wait..." Eldarion froze in his tracks. "What's going on that I don't know about?"
"Nothing Eldi-dear. Just come with me and we won't end up in jail, alright?"
"Don't 'Eldi-dear' me. What is it Luth?"
"Look, it's not simple enough to explain right now-"
Eldarion folded his arms across his chest, looking suspicious. "We have time, Luth."
"Oh really, because a few seconds ago if we let one more person get robbed, you were going to piss your pants."
Eldarion raised an eyebrow. Luthiel snarled at him as all agitated younger sisters do, and began:
"Fine...just fine. You want to know?" She huffed, throwing up her arms. He nodded, still keeping a careful eye on her. "Look, it's all because of the other day, when we got lost on our way back from the market-"
"You mean when you purposely got lost so you could miss lessons."
She winced and growled up at him.
"Yes...that." She spit out the words like poison. "Well, mum heard about that little incident and, since she apparently is sick and tired of my behavior as of late concerning such matters, she's said that one more stroke like that...and..."
"And what?"
"Um..."
"What is it?"
"Well...I lose all tournament privileges." She blurted out, almost stamping her foot with anger.
"You mean you can't fight in a tourney?"
"Nope." She said, avoiding his eye.
"For how long?"
"As long as she likes...and she's a damned elf, so a few years to her is like a week of bloody grounding by her standards."
"So for years?"
"I don't know...but probably something like that, yeah." Luthiel frowned. "She's so damned cranky lately..."
"Can't blame her..." He said, hiding a smile. "So the only reason you don't want to do this is so...you won't get in trouble?"
"Yeah...and I do have some bloody honor left, but only in the tourneys...so they can't take that away from me yet."
"I guess not." He smiled, and put his arm around her shoulder. Luthiel looked ready to throw up. "Oh, come on Luth. It's not as bad as you think it is. We'll get back to the palace and none of this will be a problem. Besides, I wouldn't have put you through the thief stuff if you'd just told me before, you know."
"I know." She sighed. "But does my big brother always have to know every time I'm in trouble?"
"Well, you always seem to know when I'm on mum's leash..."
"We're always on mum's leash, Eldi..." She laughed. "So can we go back now?"
"Sure, if you-" But just at that moment, Eldarion froze. Because as he was talking, he had felt the smallest of movements beneath his lower back, along his waist. Like his belt's weight had shifted. Luthiel was watching him fervently.
"What is it Eldi?" She asked her eyes wide.
He closed his eyes, letting his hands slowly slip to the back of his belt. Please, no. He prayed. Those silver pieces were his good luck charms, besides being authentic currency from Numenor, some of the last pieces last. Don't be gone. His hands reached the leather pouch, his fingers carefully feeling along the edge. Finally, his hand felt the long line that his fingers could slip through and fell the inside of his empty purse. He clenched his other fist in anger, holding his breath and closing his eyes to hide his rage.
"Eldi...what..." Luthiel said, and he saw her hands going to her own purse. "They didn't touch mine." She said, pulling out her still heavy purse. She handed it to him, and he clutched it between his fingers. "See, they didn't rob us."
He handed the purse back to her, then carefully untied his own from his belt. Handing the empty pouch to her, he saw her eyes widen as her fingers closed around the leather.
"They did..." He said, blinking for a very long time. "Well...at least mine."
"I'm really sorry, Eldi." She said softly, before handing it back to him. "But I think I can do something about it..."
"What?" He said, turning to look her in the eye.
Luthiel's eyes burned passionately for a moment, her usual battle flare, before she gave him a quick glance and swerved away into the crowd.
"Luth!' He called after her as she ran through the people. "Wait!" He hurried after her, pulling his dagger from its sheath beside his left leg. This was not going like he had planned.
"Luth!" He called again, before spotting her near a large group of children. "What are you doing?"
She turned, giving him a smile. "There was no reason to fight before." She called back, grinning. "I can never pass up a good chance, you know that...and besides, no one's allowed to mess with my brother but me..." She smiled even wider, then took off into the crowd.
"No!" He yelled, diving towards the sounds of commotion near the front. The performance had stopped, and now there was screaming and sounds of combat. He pulled away from the crowd just in time to see Luth and a black hooded man circling, his pouch full and jangling. Both their weapons were drawn, though Luth's sword looked like an obvious advantage over his dagger. Still, the man didn't look too concerned; he was grinning as he passed his dagger from one hand to another.
"This man is a thief." Luthiel said, just loud enough to hear over the crowd. "He, along with those on stage and some in the crowd, have been stealing your money all night." The crowd murmured softly, and Eldarion watched as some drew their own daggers cautiously. It was common knowledge in the streets that when a dagger was drawn, it was likely the brawl could become an all-out block fight. The crowd shuffled anxiously, their eyes fixed on the two in the center. The members on stage however, did not seem too pleased by this development, and, in a whirl of force, leapt from the stage and onto Luthiel.
"Luth!" Eldarion cried, advancing towards her. His other dagger drawn as well, he sliced through an opposing thief who had stepped in his way, a long knife in his hand. Eldarion slammed the man hard with his left side, right into a wooden table, hard enough to knock the man out. He pushed through the huge throngs of people, knocking some over as he went. It was taking too long, and Eldarion became frustrated as he pushed through.
Somehow, something wasn't right. The crowd wasn't really helping Luthiel at all; in fact, they appeared to be moving away from the fighters, letting Luthiel be beaten upon by about a dozen performers, some armed with daggers. It's not working. Eldarion thought to himself. I have to do something. But...
"Everyone!' He cried, in a voice loud enough to soften the fighting as some of the performers looked at him along with the crowd. "These people's purses are filled with your good coin. Check your purses; I swear it!" A few in the crowd, no, now it was all in the crowd, reached to their belts. He heard gasps, angry shouts, and much cursing as the people slowly realized what had happened. Eldarion smiled to himself. 'They've robbed you clean!" He cried, pointing at the heap of performers, some lying where Luthiel had left them, others still circling around her. Luthiel stood, sword erect, her whole body as fluid as she moved this way and that, striking out at her opponents with extreme force. She turned towards Eldarion for a second, a smile of gratitude on her face. He smiled back.
"Seize them!' He cried, pointing at the thieves. The crowd advanced forward. "And-" But just as he began, a swift punch to his jaw sent him reeling to the ground. When he hit the hard cobblestone, he had but a second to look up before diving to the left to avoid a kick in the face. His attacker was the man who had collected thier money at the beginning, a weasel-like man with greasy hair and skin, and blackened, grimy teeth. He grinned, showing his yellow smile, and pulled a knife from his belt.
"Think we'd let you get away with that?" He said, still grinning. Eldi reached for his daggers, which had both fallen from his hands when he hit the ground, but the man brought down his foot on his hand. Eldarion cried out in pain. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you too much. This just got more fun, that's all." The man said, pressing his blade's edge up against Eldarion's throat. Eldarion struggled against the man's other hand, which was now around his throat, but it was no use. His hands, both beneath a boot, were screaming with pain, he couldn't breath, and his daggers were gone. There was only one thing left to do.
"Screw...you..." He choked, spitting into the man's face. The man hardly flinched, and only tightened his grip.
Yep...to swear. Eldarion thought, almost smiling to himself. Cursing always makes the best of things, as dad likes to say.
"You wanna repeat that?' The man spat out, leaning in towards Eldarion's face. Eldarion winced under the man's repulsive breath. The man drew the blade down closer to his throat, breaking the skin on top. Eldarion hissed in pain, feeling the warm blood dripping down his neck and beneath his collar.
"That's what I thought." The man said. "But for that you're gonna pay. You and the girl...easy to silence. Goodbye, Your Highness." Eldarion gasped, realizing the man knew who he was. The man simply grinned and tightened his grip on Eldi's neck. He pulled the blade back for a second cut, this one most likely deeper and probably intended for killing, but just at the moment he was about to draw it across Eldarion's throat, the dagger fell, and the man slumped to the ground, another blade in the back of his neck. Blood suddenly flowed from the corners of his mouth, the man's bloodshot eyes wide and staring right up into Eldarion's face. Eldarion, his hand around his own neck, stared amazed at the man, shock still in him after the struggle. Besides, there was something odd about that dagger... it looked like it belonged to-
A hand reached for Eldarion's collar and pulled him to his feet, pulling the dagger from the man's back at the same time. Eldarion turned to face none other than his father, sheathing his hunting dagger, covered in the man's blood.
"F-father...?" Eldarion gaped, rubbing at the cut on his neck.
Aragorn shoved Eldarion out of the way as he unsheathed his dagger for a second time, this time to stab an incoming thief whose knife was near Eldi's head. His usual garb had been replaced with black hunting clothes, his hair was down and flecked with dots of blood, as were his face and hands, and his expression was anything but happy. Uh-oh...
"Out." Aragorn growled, turning towards Eldarion with a frown.
"W-what?"
"Out. Get the hell out of here. Back to the palace. You and your sister."
"B-but..." Eldarion stared at his father, his legs feeling wobbly already.
"Now!" His father yelled, pushing him forward and out of the brawl. Eldarion lost his balance as he scuffed forward, falling hard onto the stone. Luthiel was there beside him almost immediately, helping him up, her hand going immediately to the cut on his neck. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him as hard as she could away from the following fighters, some of whom had noticed the two and were pursuing. Only Aragorn's swift blade had stopped them before they could reach his children, and Luthiel turned back towards the terrace, Eldarion's arm in her hand, and Eldarion began to run.
"Eldi...are you...alright?" She breathed, sounding winded as she tried to cover his neck with a piece of her hair ribbon. They knelt on the stones above the performance stand in the center of the market, almost to the terrace above that one, away from danger. "Did you get...hurt?"
He nodded, still out of breath.
"I'm...I'm alright, Luth..." He panted, brushing her hand away.
"Ada...he..." Luthiel said as she turned back to the brawl, sounding as shocked as he had just been.
"I know." Eldarion said softly. He turned back to the crowd, still able to see his father's head as he defended a large group of unarmed peasants against two thieves with swords. Eldarion winced at a sudden pain in his neck, his hand going to it immediately. Or perhaps it was the thought of what lay ahead that pained him; of the retribution he was to receive from his mother and father for this brawl...a brawl he started..."We have to get back to the palace, Luth.' He turned to his sister. She nodded and helped him on along, silent climb to the palace. Finally, after they were almost to the sixth terrace, she turned towards him.
"I'm sorry Eldi." She whispered as they ran up the long streets towards the top terrace. "I shouldn't have...shouldn't have fought like that..."
"It was my...my idea..." He panted, his hand still to his neck. He could still feel the heat from the blood, which was soaking his collar and the top of his shirt. The speed at which the blood poured from his wound was increasing with each step, and his head was starting to feel lighter and lighter.
"But I went after them...I'm really...sorry..."
"I know." He nodded, giving her a weak smile. "I suppose we're...we're both to...to blame..."
She nodded slowly, helping him along as they limped up to the palace. There were too many people on the streets even for that time of night, so the going was harder and harder as they worked through the crowds. Eldarion was jostled a bit too much for his liking, his neck hurting more and more. The blood was practically flowing now, coming down in long streams that had soaked and stained his shirt so he could feel it on his chest. Luthiel reached over and ripped off his top brown tunic so that he wore only the elven shirt, one that the blood was miraculously not running through.
They managed to make it the final terrace soon enough, when Eldarion nearly collapsed from blood loss on the stairs. At this point, Luthiel pulled off her entire hair band and wrapped it around his neck as a bandage, clotting the blood up for the time. He nodded thanks and waited until a guard helped him up, then helped him limp up the great marble stairs to the palace, his blood dripping and smearing onto the white stones.
His mind was floating and his whole body felt weak and dizzy as he limped across the courtyard of the white tree, past the guards standing watch by each and every staircase and door, trying to maintain stolid expressions. Their curiosity however was hard to hide, and thier eyes followed he and Luthiel as they entered the main doors, along with two guards.
"Make way for the prince and princess!" They called as the guards and servants in the way snapped back against the wall in tight, almost unnatural bows. Eldarion would have rolled his eyes in any other circumstance, as he normally hated all of the postulating of royal lifestyles. But for now, his weakness did not allow any such sarcasm, and he merely wheezed for breath as the guards supported him to the hall, where he stood now. Luthiel had been taken away by a female servant before they had reached the doors, but he was sure she stood inside there now, in the same situation as his own would soon be.
I'm a dead man...I really am. He rubbed his bandage again, feeling the sore area turning to sore muscles as well. The guards had called for a medical scholar when he'd slumped to the ground once more, who had hurried to him with bandages and quickly covered his wound for what little time they had, re-wrapping it with Luthiel's hair band again. Had it really been more than an hour since the incident in the street? He wondered how his father had found him, how he arrived just in time to save his life and to defend the people in the brawl. Like a ghost...isn't that how they described him in battle? Like a ghost in the night , like an eagle in shadow, striking before one can catch thier breaths? Like a man...a man on fire? All were familiar to him, familiar ways that he had heard others describing father in battle. But tonight...tonight he had been like a...well...an angry father.
He wasn't happy with me then; he must be fuming now. And mother...she's probably near to angry tears.
Eldarion turned at the sound of footsteps coming fast down the hall to his right. Two figures, one in long flowing red robes and the other in grey were heading in his direction. Familiar as they were, Eldarion turned to look out the window behind him, afraid of whom he might meet, afraid to have to confront his parents sooner than he wished. The window was open onto a courtyard below, the courtyard that all the guest chambers faced with balconies and turreted windows. Eldarion could easily find Eothair's rooms, the quarters he and his parents used when they were visiting Minas Tirith from thier home in Osgiliath. Torches were burning outside Lady Eowyn and Lord Faramir's chambers beside the windows, and candles lit the interior of thier rooms, hidden only by a gauzy curtain at the balcony. Eothair's remained dark and silent...empty, Eldarion knew. Come on Eothair...you've got to get home. You've just got to.
The figures were exactly who Eldarion had at first thought they were, and a fuming Lady Eowyn and distraught looking Lord Faramir were brushing by him, barely noticing him as they raced past the doors and turned out into the large hall that led to the gates. Lady Eowyn was known to have a fiery temper, and Lord Faramir wasn't looking that happy either as they pushed by. Eldarion closed his eyes, not wanting to confront them, not wanting to take responsibility for thier son's absence...a responsibility he knew rested in his own hands.
Everything is my fault tonight...absolutely everything. I never should have let Eothair leave alone, and I never should have fought the thieves. I blew it... Eothair's missing, and Luth and I almost got killed, and father had to risk his neck just to get us home safe. It's a complete mess and it's all because of me.
Eldarion looked up from his folded arms. The doors in front of him had just creaked open, and an unhappy looking face was peeking from between them.
"Luth?' Eldarion said softly, noting her angry expression. "What...what happened?"
She didn't say anything, but simply stared him very hard in the eye, rubbing her hands together as if to keep them from hurting something.
"Luth?" He murmured, backing up towards the wall. She looked like she was going to kill someone very soon. "Are you okay?"
She turned to him, her eyes brimmed with tears. Whether they were from anger or sorrow, or perhaps both, Eldarion didn't know.
"I'm alright...what about you?" She said, facing him. Luthiel was an extremely pretty girl, whose looks were sometimes more like her father's than her mother's. She had his crooked smile and his expressions, especially when she was angry or upset. Her personality was sometimes like her father's as well...laid-back and yet intense, cautious and yet reckless. She was the most gifted fighter Eldarion had ever seen, and she'd won every tourney she'd ever competed in, besting men twice her size and age and championing over the victors of previous days, people who had once doubted her skills. Although she was one year younger than Eldarion, she was almost the same height, and thier eyes and most of thier facial features were so close in looks that some people would have called them twins. Her long black hair blew around her face from the wind coming in through the open window, and she brushed it out of the way with her hand, batting her long eyelashes and staring at the ground anxiously. Eldarion cleared his throat before speaking.
"I'm...I'm fine now."
"Good." She said, then raised her hand up and punched him square in the jaw, sending him reeling back against the stone wall behind him. "That's for getting me in trouble and fighting your damned outlaws." She raised her hand up and punched him a second time, Eldarion sinking to the ground and now covering himself with his arms. "And that's for letting Eothair get lost, you bloody idiot. This is all your fault; if you hadn't gone and tried to be the hero, we never would be in this mess... so screw your damned nobility, I told you honor is bullshit!" And with that, she stamped her foot and ran away down the hall, leaving Eldarion on the floor and seemingly helpless as his hands covered his face and arms.
Damn, this is not my night.
"Eldarion." He looked up from the floor into his father's stern face, the lines beside his eyes and mouth looking harder than ever. Eldarion stood up slowly, never leaving his father's eyes, and followed him through the huge doors and into the throne room.
The throne room was the largest hall in the palace, and the most ornate. Its long marble arches seemed to reach the sky, and the black and white marble tile shone and sparkled when the sunlight (or in this case, moonlight) hit it. Full of statues and sculptures of royalty past and present, their stone eyes stared down at Eldarion as they walked down the long hall to the thrones at the end, their black surfaces gleaming with the moonlight from the open windows on either side of the hall. He could imagine the scowling faces of these age-old role models as they gazed down with shame at thier dreadful pupil, one heir who had neglected thier example and would surely shun the throne's honor. Torches were lit behind each statue, casting the eerie glow of their shadows down in front of Eldarion's feet as he walked, his own footsteps echoing throughout the chamber. Yeah, yeah, I know I'm a clod. He thought back to their accusing eyes, cold stone that suddenly seemed lit by fire with the torches near them. You don't need to rub it in; I'm convinced the throne's not meant for me either, trust me. One of the thrones at the end was occupied, the one on the right, belonging to his mother. She was still in her after-dinner gowns, the plain grey or blue ones she wore when the family retired to their own personal chambers after supper. Though her expression was unclear at this distance, Eldarion could only imagine her stern face and anger when he approached.
When he reached the thrones, his mother's face now clear and radiant in the moonlight, he dove into a deep bow and pressed his face to his knee.
"Is that really necessary?" His mother's clear voice rang out across the hall. "I've already heard the story from your sister and father; we don't expect to give you any less punishment than you deserve because you bowed... for once." Eldarion had to admit, he hadn't shown any physical respect in quite a while for either of his parents. During ceremonies, it was sometimes necessary to postulate before them, but it was something that he had as of late forgotten to do for many weeks, perhaps months.
"Stand up." His father grunted as he sat down in the throne. Eldarion looked up at both of them; first to his father's dark features, set like stone in a stolid expression of anger, his mother's white and radiant in the moonlight, shining with almost malice.
"Mother, father, I can explain-"
"There is no need for that, either." His mother said, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I, as well as your father, know what happened, and I understand there is no reason behind your actions. It sounds more like simple selfishness to me."
"It wasn't like that...it just..."His mind raced, searching for words. He could find none, none to face up to the eyes of his mother. Grey-blue eyes, the same as his sisters' all were, only here they were harder and colder, and burned like blue fire in the shadow.
"Just what, Eldarion? Do you really think you can clear this away with a wave of words? Your actions resulted in the disappearance of the Ithilien heir, not to mention the risking of your father and sister's lives."
"What? Is Luthiel's life suddenly my responsibility? She's nearly my age, and no less responsible than me!" He fumed. How could they frame him for Luthiel's life? She was 16, for gods' sakes, and a better fighter than Eldarion himself. If anyone could fend for themselves, it was Luth.
"It was you who chose to fight though, was it not?"
"Well...I..."
"Yes...yes, you did. And because of your actions, many have suffered tonight, including myself and your father. We were in complete shock at your disappearance and even more so at your terrible choice of blindly fighting the criminals."
"B-blindly? But...I..."
"When your father came to your aid, you were about to get your throat slit. If that was not a blind position, I don't know what is." Eldarion glanced over at his father, who still had not spoken since he had sat down on the throne. His father stared back at him, black fire burning in his eyes.
"I never meant to put anyone in danger..." Eldarion started, glancing from one parent to the other.
"Danger? I doubt you were thinking of danger when you ran off this afternoon, disobeying my strict orders to stay within the palace today. Nor were you ever thinking of danger when you allowed Master Eothair to return to the palace alone, which he never did arrive at. Nor were you when you picked a fight with a troupe of armed bandits, resulting in near death for yourself and your father and sister." His mother tightened her grip on the arms of the throne, her knuckles white. "I am ashamed my own child would make such foolish decisions, and even more ashamed that you would attempt to throw the blame upon someone else."
"I'm not throwing any blame anywhere!" He cried, stepping forward.
"And yet you insist your sister could have taken perfectly good care of herself, extracting and replacing responsibility for her welfare from yourself to her."
"Well..." He stumbled for words again. "I only meant that she's a good fighter, and that she could have handled herself well enough." He mumbled under his breath, his eyes on the floor.
"So, with her state of martial skills determined, you decided to set forth and get yourself involved in a brawl with over twenty armed men and women, fully grown and twice your age, confident that your sister was strong enough to withstand them and that you, as a skilled fighter yourself, could best them all as well?"
"Um...yes?"
"Then I am more ashamed than I was before." She sighed. "Eldarion, please tell me you really aren't as reckless as this incident may seem to have determined."
"Not nearly as much as Luthiel..." He murmured, smiling a bit when he thought of Luth's punch to his jaw. Not nearly as reckless at all.
His mother's face softened a bit, and he saw a small smile touch her lips. The old Queen Arwen returned for but a moment, that radiant beauty shining through in her smile. Just hours ago at dinner she had been laughing at one of his silly stories, her eyes bright with life and her face as beautiful as ever. Now she was just as stunning, but it was a cold beauty he saw here, one that seemed to be able to kill. If looks were poison...
"Perhaps you are right..." She said softly, but her face hardened once more. "Does your neck hurt?"
"A bit," He said, rubbing the bandage that covered the now sore spot.
"Good. I hope it scars, Eldarion, truly I do. As a lasting reminder of days when you were younger and foolish, a memory of your mortality."
"I don't think I'm immortal-" He shot back, though his words were just mumbles beneath her glare.
"But you act like it." His mother objected. "The wound on your neck was not fatal, and luckily your father was able to cut in before it got much worse, but you should be thankful it was only what it was. Have you visited the healers?"
"No."
"You'll have to visit them afterwards. In the meantime however, I have not finished with you yet. Eldarion, you know the honor this family must uphold-"
"I try to uphold it, honest." He said, "It's not like I'm not aware we're royal and everything, okay? I care about my reputation just as much as the next prince, but-"
"Do not interrupt me." His mother said, her voice like ice. Eldarion was starting to get the feeling that the least amount of punishment for tonight was going to have to start somewhere in the ten to twenty year range. "As I was saying before you so rudely interjected, you are a member of the royal family, and it is your will that guides our honor and will someday guide this kingdom." Eldarion held his breath. Here comes the long and generally repetitive lecture. "I know that these years are very hard for you; you have gained more responsibilities, your subjects are beginning to find reason to look up to you. Eldarion, you're a prince, not the common boy you wished to be in your childhood, and during these years, you will have to rise above that common boy, you will have to command the common boy you once were. Your choices mean much more than they ever did before, and choices like the ones you made tonight cannot and will not be tolerated. Not just by myself and your father, but by all your subjects. You are going to be a king, and a king must not make mistakes, nor may he make foolish decisions. Everything he does affects someone else, and every action he makes takes responsibility for yet one more thing.
"I am not saying this to hurt you, dear, I'm saying this to help you. Everyone has choices to make in their life, and everyone has one unerring fate that their choices must lead up to. I know that what you have seen and will see in your life is more than any boy should, but Eldarion, you are a prince, someday to be a king, and this is how your fate must be." She's made that point like five times. "It's not my choice, nor your father's choice, or even your choice. It's just what the gods have given you. And what the gods give us, we must do something with, no matter what the consequences. There is only one person who can decide your fate, and that is you. I can no longer repair your mistakes anymore than I can take back time, but it is you who can do with that time whatever you wish."
With this she sat back in her seat and stared at her son for a long, hard time. Eldarion did not dare look back at her, but instead focused his attention on small particles of dust floating by his head, caught in the rising sunlight. This had been an unusually long lecture for his mother, but like most typical teenage boys, he was finding it hard to recall what she had just said. He was vaguely conscious of his father's eyes upon him too, not to mention the stone faces of the kings of old, frowning down at thier disobedient descendent. Don't worry about your unworthy heir not getting any long-winded lectures, boys, He thought back to them upon thier pedestals of truth, nobility, honesty, and thier great pride-worthy deeds. I've got an elf for a mother, and she'll make sure I never get a word in edgewise. But let me tell you all something… My sister has always been the more sensible, and I suppose she was right: honor is a load of bullshit, no matter how you put it. You can do all the great things you want, but it seems like the only deeds people are apt to remember are the bad ones. He felt like laughing to himself at the irony in his thoughts, in his head. Speaking of his head...his head was so light, so very light, that the statues seemed to be laughing in his dizziness. He swayed for a moment, and his hand reached out to grasp for support, finding none there.
"Eldarion?" He looked up at his mother, and was surprised to see a look of concern on her face. "Eldarion, your neck..."
He reached up and felt the bandage. It had soaked completely through and when his hand came away it was stained with black blood. My blood is black. His mother leaned forward.
"The bandage..." He whispered, suddenly feeling all the blood rushing from his head as he shifted his weight to the other foot. He saw his father out of the corner of his eye, shifting in his seat, and then his eyes went black. Black like my blood.
His knees fell beneath him and he tumbled down, down, down, his eyes opening briefly to see his mother springing from her throne, her arm, reaching hand, stretched before her, screaming: "Eldarion!"
Eldarion's thoughts slowly faded away into darkness, melting into the air with the wicked laughter of the stone kings around him. He thought for a moment he could see his mother's eyes, and he smiled at the recognition, but then the blackness closed around him and all went silent.
"Eldi?" A little voice was speaking in his ear, and the smallest of hands pushing on his side. He laughed to himself, thinking of how it tickled. He turned over to face his familiar bedroom wall, opening his eyes, still heavy from sleep. What an awful dream, he thought as he rubbed his eyelids. Awful and strange...
"Eldi?" The voice repeated, just as soft and sweet as before. He laughed aloud, and rolled around, turned to face the source of the voice. Perhaps I am still dreaming...
"Eldiii..." The little girl before him whined, gently rocking him back and forth with all the force her arms could manage.
"Gilly?" He whispered, a bit surprised to see her. "What are you doing in my room?"
Little Gilrael let out a squeal of delight at his response, her eyes wider than ever. The youngest of the royal children, Gilrael was 4 and the quietest of her siblings. With large bright blue eyes and thick, black hair that was always half-up and half falling out of her ponytail, she had an angelic look of innocence about her, brought to life by her adorable grins and delighted laughter. She jumped up and hugged her older brother with more cries of delight.
"Awake!' She squealed, squeezing her brother's arm. "You're awake!"
"Um, yes." He said, surprised at her reaction. "I'm awake, Gilly."
"You were asleep for so long!" She said, her eyes suddenly looking accusatory, "You made mum worried, Eldi." She said, her four-year old face suddenly looking more like thier mother's than ever as she scowled at him.
"What? How long did I sleep?" He asked, sitting up in bed, realizing he had no shirt on. He pulled the blanket up to his chest, grateful he at least wore trousers beneath the sheets.
She held up three fingers.
"Three hours?" He asked, "But my dream was much longer than that...I dreamt I was in a fight, Gilly, a street fight, and-"
But he stopped when he realized Gilrael was shaking her head sadly, and he said softly: "Three... days?"
She nodded, then looked away, sitting on the edge of his bed, her little legs swinging as they could not touch the floor.
"Then it wasn't a dream, was it Gilrael?' He whispered, and winced as she shook her head again. He felt his neck with a cautious hand, then drew back in half-shock at the bandage around it.
Gilrael turned back to him with large, sad eyes.
"I was hurt pretty bad, huh?' He asked, putting his arm around her tiny body. She nodded slowly, and he saw a tear falling down her cheek. He reached down to touch it, but she quickly wiped it away and wiped her nose with her wrist before looking back up at him. "Were mum and ada worried?" He asked softly, and she nodded again. "Did they tell you or Isilme what happened?"
She shook her head, but her eyes were wide and hopeful once more.
"I suppose you want to know, don't you?" He asked, and she smiled and hugged him. "Well, Luth and I went to see a show. It wasn't a good show, people were being robbed." He began, looking out the window and onto the city, brightened with the afternoon sun. How long had he slept? Three days? How could it be possible? He rubbed his neck as he spoke, trying to remember the events of a night three days ago. How is it possible? "Luthiel wanted to go home, but I wanted to fight the robbers. They did fight, trust me, and one of them hurt me, here.' He said, pointing to his neck. Gilly's small hand reached up for his bandage, touching it ever so lightly, then pulling away as if in fright. "I guess it was worse than I thought..." He said thoughtfully, turning from her to the window again.
"Eldarion!" Both he and his sister turned as the door to his room flew open and his sisters Isilme and Luthiel burst in. Isilme was the first upon him, embracing him in a huge hug. "You're awake!" She exclaimed, "We were so worried, Eldi! And mum and ada wouldn't tell us anything, so I had to make Luthiel tell me, which took forever since she's afraid of getting in trouble again." Isilme added with a smile at Luthiel, who playfully mussed her hair.
Isilme was 12, and certainly the most devoted of all her siblings. Devoted to everything- her studies, her family, her friends; Isilme always received the most praise from her tutors and teachers than her brother and sister had. Isilme was shorter than both of her siblings had been at that age, and though she had the same black hair and high elven features as her siblings, Isilme's eyes were what set her apart. While Eldarion's were a dark grey-blue, Luthiel's were bright grey, and Gilly's a crystalline blue, Isilme's eyes were grey-green, sometimes steel in the night, while bright hazel green in the daylight. She had a rounder face than Luthiel and Eldarion, and her looks were mentioned most often as looking like her grandmother Celebrian. Her mother had often told her she had her grandmother's face and her grandmother's eyes, not to mention her loyal and kind spirit. While Luthiel and Eldarion were taken to neglecting studies or taking off on adventures, Isilme liked nothing better than a good book to curl up with in her bedroom, and would never dare miss a lesson of any kind. "I hope you're doing well now, though..." She said softly, and he saw her eyes fall to the bandage around his neck.
"How's the wound?" Luthiel asked, her voice becoming concerned and very un-Luth like.
"Better." He said, feeling it with his free hand. "I don't remember much, only that the blood had turned black and was coming out much faster, and that your hair band had fallen off or something, because it wasn't there when I fell...I think perhaps I've lost it." He said, looking up at her sadly. "Sorry, Luth..."
Luthiel smiled at him and sat down at the end of the bed. "Oh please Eldi, it was a hair band. I doubt I'll miss it."
"Yes, I suppose..." He said softly, and smirked at his sister. "I can't remember much else, but I seem to recall something about a punch in the jaw..."
"Oh, sorry about that.' She blushed and stared uncomfortably at her hands. "I...uh...I was a bit angry and...er... I think I got a little carried away..."
"It's okay. It was like a hair band: I doubt I'll miss it." They both laughed, uncomfortable as it were, and Luthiel turned away, watching Isilme sitting in the corner with Gilrael, occupying her with a hand game. Eldarion stared at his sister for a moment, watching her brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead and nervously fold her hands on her lap. Three days I've been laying here. It must have been hell for Luth... and everybody...I wonder how they took it, me being sick and all. I wonder...wonder why it even happened...Luthiel let out an agitated sigh, and Eldarion smiled sadly to himself. Poor Luth. She's probably been out of her mind...
"Three days, huh?" He murmured, and she turned to look back at him.
"Yeah..." Luthiel attempted a small smile, but Eldarion knew neither she nor he could smile or laugh... or anything... right now.
"My blood was black." He said, his hand instinctively running along the bandage. "It was pouring right out of me like...like...wine from a glass. All I did was get cut, too." He laughed. "Heh...I guess I was in a lot deeper than I thought."Luthiel looked over at him with sad eyes, then opened her mouth.
"It was pretty scary for a while. We thought you weren't...weren't going to... make it." She finally finished, and with her last word quickly turned to look back at Isilme and Gilrael, playing by the window. Eldarion closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall what he could remember. The details were so vague once they reached the palace...
"What happened to me?" He asked, sitting up straighter in bed. Luthiel remained silent, staring out the window, her eyes cold and her face impassive. "Please Luth, I've got the right to at least know what I've been doing for three days."
Luthiel sighed again. "You collapsed in the throne room, do you remember that?" He nodded. "We brought you back here; mum and dad called for the healing houses, but I said you'd want to wake up in your own bed eventually...when you woke up." Eldarion smiled at her. "I think sometimes I thought maybe you wouldn't. Sometimes I thought there was nothing anybody could do, but there were healers with you for days. They couldn't wake you up, but gods know they tried. Your breath was always slowing down, and you wouldn't drink or eat or anything. Mum and ada were in here every second, and Issy and me, and even Gilly, came up to see you whenever it cleared out. You were horrible. Your skin was as pale as could be, and your breath was so short that it seemed like you were hardly breathing at all. And your eyes..."
"What about my eyes?"
"Well...you'd open them every once and a while and just stare at us. Stare with the most ghostly eyes anyone had ever seen. You didn't say a thing. We thought you were awake, but you weren't. You were just dreaming with your eyes open. At least, that's what the healers said, and even they were scared to death every time you'd open those moon eyes of yours and stare bug-eyed at the ceiling. There was nothing we could do about it, the healers said. But mum would come in and sing, and you'd close your eyes and you'd look like you were sleeping again, only sometimes there was a smile on your face."
Eldarion tried to smile. Luthiel noticed and smiled back, the first real one since she had arrived.
" Why did it happen?" He asked.
"You mean the eyes? I don't know, you were probably in pain or-"
"No, all of that. The sleeping and the eyes... and the black blood."
"Oh..." She was silent for a moment, and her eyes slowly sank down to stare at her hands. "I don't know. The healers never said anything to me. But they talked to mum and ada alot, and I think perhaps they know. They know what ever it was, so I'll ask them..." She looked back over at him, and he saw her wipe a tear from her eye. She sniffed loudly, rubbing her eye with the back of her sleeve and hiding her face. Good old Luth...never lets anyone see her cry.
"Thanks Luth."
"For what?" She turned back to him.
"For sticking around...and you know, for helping me out for the past three days. And for the fight too;" He paused, smiling mischievously. "That was some brawl we started, huh?"
"Yeah, some brawl." She laughed, and the old sparkle returned to her eyes. "Did you see me nail the one guy in the horse costume? He jumped on my back and tried to wrestle me to the ground. I flipped him over my head and-"
"Eldarion!" Eldarion and Luthiel turned to see a blur of elven green in the doorway before Eldarion found himself completely enveloped by his mother's sleeves as she embraced him in a tight hug, planting kisses all over his cheeks. "I'm so sorry Eldi!" She cried into his hair, "I was so strict, and I know I must have put you down so many times that night! I almost lost you and every day I sat and thought of all the awful things I said! You must have felt so awful and I am so sorry-" Over his mother's shoulder, Eldarion smirked at Luthiel, who was trying not to laugh too loudly, and glanced up at his father beaming at the end of the bed. Aragorn smiled back, and from the look of amusement in his eyes, he too was trying not to laugh at his wife's overly affectionate reaction. "No matter what anyone says, you will always be my baby boy." She concluded, pulling back from Eldarion's shoulder, though her hands were still firmly gripped on both his arms. Luthiel did burst out into chuckles at this point, and Eldarion gave her a sly face before turning back to his mother.
"Thanks mum." He said with a warm smile. Arwen, who was wiping back tears with each breath, beamed back at her son and turned to her husband.
"We almost lost him, didn't we Estel?" She said softly, and Eldarion watched as a tear formed in his father's left eye.
It wasn't long before Aragorn too had broken his stance at the end of the bed and was now joyously embracing his son, tears in his eyes. Amid all the attention, Eldarion barely had time to breathe before the door to his room burst open for the third time that day and someone cried: "Eldarion!" yet again.
Eothair ran into the room, and Eldarion seriously hoped his friend would not consider giving him as physical a greeting as his mother and father had. Gasping for air, Eldarion managed to squeeze out of his father's embrace in time to grin at Eothair, now standing at the edge of his bed and beaming at his best friend. He too ran up to Eldarion's side once Aragorn had kindly stepped out of the way, and shook Eldarion's hand until it was sore.
"You had us scared to death!" Eothair cried, waving his arms about. "We thought you'd died for sure!"
Eldarion smiled at Eothair's normally honest and open response. He saw his parents frown momentarily at Eothair, who blushed. "Sorry Your Highnesses, I didn't mean to be so blunt there...but all the same Eldarion. I was worried sick about you."
"And I of you!" Eldarion laughed. "Why didn't you return home, and where did you go? And I think I owe you an apology, Eothair. I'm awfully sorry we didn't heed your advice. I should have never let you go off on your own. You were right...as usual."
Eothair blushed again, and this time the red ran all the way up his neck and to his blonde curls. Eothair was a good looking boy like his friends, and his mother's blonde curly hair and brown eyes melded well with his father's noble face and warm expressions. Eothair now flashed another one of his signature smiles at Luthiel, who smirked back.
"It's alright, Eldarion. I'm the one who should have apologized, making everyone worry about silly me when you were passed out and all. I'm afraid I don't really know the streets of Minas Tirith as well as I'd like to; I ended up down by the river by the time some guards recognized me and took me back to the palace."
"They recognized you in your common clothes?"
"Well, I was so desperate by the time I met them that I was basically walking up to people going: 'Hi, I'm Eothair, the steward's son, and I am really, really lost. Do you have any idea where the palace is?' I happened to walk up to them and ask the same question, and they hurried me back to the front steps. When I got here, you'd been out cold for hours. I was so worried, I didn't even mind when mum scolded me for going up and being so blatantly obvious with strangers. She thinks my honesty could have gotten me killed."
Eldarion laughed.
"Well, it always has been one of your stronger points, hasn't it?"
"Honesty?"
"No, just accidental trouble." Eldarion said, and Eothair laughed.
Aragorn, who had stopped embracing his son and was now standing with his arms around Eldarion's mother by the door, excused himself and the queen from the room.
"But I still stand by my word." Arwen said as she knelt beside his bed. "You have a lot of apologizing and work to do. And you're grounded from every tourney this year." She pointed her finger at Luth. "You too, Luth."
Eldarion gave them both one final hug, then watched as they slowly closed the door behind them as they left. Eothair, after another hour of talking, noticing the time, rushed off to his fencing lessons. Isilme took Gilrael back upstairs to eat thier lunches in their rooms, and Eldarion found himself alone with Luthiel again.
"I have to go." She said, standing up from the chair beside his bedside, where she had been telling him all about her current gambling winnings. "I had lunch brought to my room, so I don't want the maid to get upset and think I've gotten lost when I don't show up to eat it."
"It's okay." Eldarion said, "I think I'm going to call the chamberlain and see if I can't get some clothes to wear, anyway. Wouldn't want to go wandering about the palace in my birthday suit, would I?"
Luthiel smiled at her brother. "I'm glad to see you're back, Eldarion."
"So am I." He said, and waved goodbye as she left the room.
Once Luthiel had gone, he sprang up out of his bed, eager to be on his feet once more. With a jolt of surprise, he let out a gasp, his knees seeming to crumble beneath him. He tumbled from his bedside to the floor, and rolled into his wall. Cursing, he attempted to support his weight with his arms, pushing up against a chair with his right side, and finally returned to his bed, almost collapsing with exhaustion on his pillow. Guess I lost a lot more than blood the last three days. He thought, and winced with pain as he twisted his neck and pulled the skin across the wound.
He frowned at his weakness and very slowly stood up again, taking slow, careful steps to the table in the corner of the room. He saw his old velvet tunic there, and pulled it over his head, eventually having to sit down when his legs could no longer support him. Then, slowly but surely, he pulled his leggings on and tied a belt around his waist. Shrugging his long jacket into place, Eldarion frowned. I never thought sleeping would make a person so weak. But it was more than sleeping he had done. Whatever was on that knife had hurt him, and it had hurt him badly. Still frowning, Eldarion slipped silently from his room and into the empty hall.
He slowly made his way down the corridor, the main hallway of the royal children's chambers. It had long windows on the north side, bright and shining and always open. Though the hall was made of white marble like every other part of the palace, the children's wing had brightly colored tapestries between the doorways to their rooms, setting it apart as the most cheerful part of the palace. Eldarion had grown up here in this corridor, and his memories of the times he and his siblings had spent romping up and down the hall brought a small smile to his face.
He could remember long games of 'catch' with Luth and the servants' children, and sneaking out of their rooms at night to look for shooting stars in the huge windows near their parents' rooms. He remembered playing hide-and-herald behind the statues in the throne room, and when his sister dared him to climb the tallest tree in his mother's private garden. He had been 6, she had been 5, but Luthiel had been feisty enough even then to dare her older brother into such a dangerous endeavor. He had reached the top only to look down and realize how high up he was, and Luth had to run and find father to get him back down, as he strongly refused to move from such a height. Even when he was safe on the ground they had gotten quite a scolding for that, but he could recall grinning at Luthiel before being bustled back to his own room as punishment.
As the children grew older, they spent their summers in the house in Ithilien. Each day began with footraces on the forest paths, then fencing on the shores of the millpond, and when it grew dark, visiting the elves at night to hear long sonnets and songs, and to gaze at the starry sky that seemed so much clearer there than in the city.
As they grew older, they still always made time for adventure, just as they had as little children. Now that Eldarion and Luthiel were teenagers however, and Isilme almost as well, it seemed that the adventures they used to create in their imaginations were becoming more and more real. He remembered his first sword, given to him when he was 9, and he could recall a game he and Luthiel played involving bandits. Luthiel had been the Bandit Queen and he the noble Knight of the Citadel, and she and Eldarion would have long sword fights, wood sword against real steel. Luthiel had been quite a fighter even at 8, and he was sure her wooden sword had beaten his own blade many times during the courses of the game. It seemed odd now that fighting bandits had been such a fun and adventurous idea then, when now it had nearly cost him his life. As children, they both had had such dreams of growing up to be noble fighters, great heroes like their father. Now that he stood with a battle scar of his own, Eldarion tried to recall anything heroic about his last battle. Nothing...nothing at all.
Eldarion stood still, suddenly realizing where he had walked to. He was standing outside his parents' room, many halls away from his own corridor. How did I end up here? He wondered, and peered about to make sure that there were none around. Only the occasional servant passed by, and they paid him no attention, so Eldarion slowly crept towards his parents' door, where he could hear a heated discussion.
"...Poison! By the gods, are you sure?" He recognized his mother's voice, sounded anxious and upset. The voice of the head of the healing houses came next, a low but somehow soothing rumble Eldarion had heard many times when being told how to relieve a stuffy nose or an aching muscle.
"Without a doubt. The knife was laced with a mixture of poison herbs, most likely seregon and death-weed."
"Blood-root and death-weed." He heard his father's voice, barely a murmur. They're talking about the knife...poison...I was poisoned! "I do not remember much of those names, only this...separate, they are seemingly harmless, but mixed together and given a while to rot, thier juices are deadly. I have seen it used only once before, in Dol Guldur...laced on daggers and short swords brandished by the Necromancer's army." There was a pause in which he heard his mother take in a long gasp of breath. His father murmured something to her, then began again: "Seregon is not found but in the mountains, in the old khazad lands, marker of the dwarven grave. Death-weed is the common but strong fuel for Umbarian pipes, and does not come cheaply. This street thief would have paid a high price for these plants if he did not get them himself."
"Not as high a price as your son paid." The healer said. "It is a miracle he is awake, and alive at all. The wound was infected, poison or not, and the black blood showed it had already made its way into the bloodstream. By the time he reached our care, it would have entered his brain and his heart. He should have been dead, or at least paralyzed. We should all be thankful he is neither."
"And we are thankful, extremely thankful for your time and your care." His mother said to the healer, and Eldarion could hear the grief in her voice beneath the soft, kind tone. "If not for you, our son would not be...alive." Eldarion could have sworn he heard a slight gasp, as if she were suppressing tears, but knowing his mother, she would not be crying today. She did not shed tears in front of any but his father (and showing the events of this morning, her immediate family), and never in front of subjects.
"His blood is cleansed, then?" Aragorn pressed, "There is nothing left of the drug in him?"
"Yes, your highness. All that could be cleared from his body is gone."
"All that could be cleared?" Arwen said, her voice more suspicious than before. "Does this mean there was some that could not?"
"Well..." The healer paused. Eldarion held his breath. His arms and hands were beginning to shake now, and he leaned up against the wall for support. Poison... "It's not...how does one say it...active anymore, Your Highness.The damage can no longer occur, but what's done is done. There will be more than a scar from this...there will...well..." Eldarion stopped himself from crying out to the healer to finish. His mother asked instead.
"Yes, Master Grelend?"
"I do not know how damaging the effects of this drug will be, Your Highness. I honestly don't. I have never seen a mixture like this anywhere but in scrolls and books, and the results of a flesh encounter with the poison are said to vary and nary recorded. All I know is this: whatever may happen to him, whether it is excruciating pain, or paralysis, or simply a very deep scar, he will bear the wound's effects for the rest of his life..." The man's voice died away. Neither the king nor queen spoke a word. After all, what does one say when they have just learned their son must endure pain or more for the rest of his days?
Eldarion's breath was caught in his throat. He struggled against his own thoughts, his mind racing and every part of his body urging him to cry out, to just cry, to do...something. I may never run again. I may never fight again. I may never race with Luth, or cross swords with Eothair, or climb the fences with Isilme. I may never... live like that... again.
"...you have our leave, then..." A few footsteps. "...thank you, Master Grelend. Enjoy your day..." Eldarion was able to catch between thoughts, and he realized the footsteps were coming towards the door. Damn, the healer must be leaving! He sprang to the nearest alcove and statue, quickly concealing himself behind it long enough for the Master Healer to exit the room and continue down the corridor without noticing him. Eldarion panted to catch his breath as the healer left the hall, not realizing how much energy such action took, then shuffled back to the door, which had not fully closed behind the old master. He pressed his ear in the crack and listened to a long silence. And suddenly:
"Then it is certain." The king spoke up finally. "My son was not struck down by any simple thief, and not with any simple knife either. What my son has been faced with is an assassin." Eldarion covered his mouth. By the gods...
"I hoped you wouldn't...wouldn't say it..." Eldarion's mother murmured sadly. "I knew you had suspected it from the first, but I just hoped...I just wished it wouldn't come to it."
"I hoped I'd never have to say it as well." the king said, "But there are too many facts to stand against any other theory. I do not think that the poison was placed on that knife for any other purpose than to kill my son, or at least one of the royal family. I would not be surprised if the entire show was planned to lure them to the terrace-"
"No." His mother interrupted. "They weren't expecting them there. I think that's why the children succeeded for most of the fight; they caught the assassins off guard. The group was going to perform for us the next day, and spend the night on the terrace below us, following a tour of the palace. They were probably planning to do...well, whatever it was they planned to do...that night." She sniffed. "They were supposed to be the most honored performers in Rhun. The ambassador recommended them very highly." Her voice became much tenser. "If I ever get my hands on that snake, I will-" At this, she broke into Quenya, as she often did when she was angry, and Eldarion recognized a few curse words substituted for the ambassador's name.
"The ambassador?" Eldarion's father said, and judging from his voice, Eldarion could imagine his expression: the typical eyebrow raised in suspicion, and his dark eyes beginning to burn with their familiar intensity. "He recommended them?"
"Yes, the vile creature did. I've never liked that man before. And now I hate that man, hate him for bringing assassins into our home. Assassins, Estel! By the goddess' sake, our son and daughter were attacked by killers...men trained and sent to murder our children! What am I supposed to do with myself, besides hate the scoundrel who-" She broke into Quenya again, though her choice of curse words was even stronger now.
"I will be having a word with him, darling, trust me. He will not be leaving this palace today until I've had him in my audience." The king murmured, his voice calming. "I will get to the bottom of this matter with him personally."
"I know you will. I know you and I would both like nothing better than to kill whoever's responsible ourselves." She let out an angry sigh. "When we had children, we promised we would never let any of the things that were going to affect us hurt them. We promised that crown or not, they wouldn't have to experience something like...like this. There are so many hardships that come with the throne, hatred and death and hurt, and I thought that I could keep them away from that. I thought that our enemies would never be something they would have to be afraid of, nor the battles we fought something they would have to face someday." She paused, and Eldarion heard her sniff again. "I thought we could keep our promises."
At this, he heard a small sob, and peering through the crack, could vaguely see his mother's shape, shaking softly in his father's arms. Eldarion was silent, and his whole body felt weaker than ever. He was beginning to feel very sick.
"We did keep our promises, Arwen." The king murmured. "We did..."
"I will not say I kept a promise to protect when I know my children are being threatened because of the throne I sit upon, because of my crown. They do not wear this crown, Estel, nor do they sit upon any throne, but they are hunted and hated all the same, just like thier parents are. How can I say I protected my children from anything? I saw my son's blood spill black upon my own hands as I held him, and as I watched him lay there, death's shadow on his face, I will not say I protected him, Estel! I will say that I failed, and failed greatly. My children are not safe, my family is threatened, my whole world is at stake...Estel, a man tried to kill our son! Our son..." At this, his mother began sobbing again, and Eldarion watched through the cracks as she threw herself into his father's arms again, and wept.
Eldarion stepped away from the door very slowly. He could not think straight, or move straight, or even make a sound. All he could do was listen helplessly to his mother's sobs, and the words of his parents playing over and over in his head. His eyes darted back and forth, his hands were shaking intensely now, and his whole body seemed to throb and ache with each step. What...what am I to...to do?
Then suddenly, he began to feel change. He could feel all the strength in his body gathering at the pit of his stomach, and he shook out shaking limbs, quieted his racing mind. There was nothing to do, he thought. It was precisely why he must do one thing and one thing only. Eldarion took a deep breath, and broke into a run.
