"By Official Decree of the White Throne of the Reunited Kingdom for treasonous actions against the White Throne, conspiracy to commit treason, and engaging in an aggressive war to usurp the White Throne from its rightful occupant: Prince Elagor is disinherited from the House of Telcontar and no longer has the right to receive any privileges of the Imperial House.
"As such Elagor is no longer the Lord of Arnor, that station is to be granted to Lord Degarond XXIX of Ethring, with all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities thereof. Elagor is now a fugitive of the Reunited Kingdom, a threat to its authority, and if any subject of Gondor is to lend any aid unto him, intentional or unintentional, whether it be direct or indirect, is guilty of treason.
"However, we do recognize that many of the honorable Dúnedain and other nobles of Arnor have been coerced into siding with the Usurper. Defectors will be treated with kindness, and their rights to their complete fiefs maintained.
(signed)
High Queen Aldanna of the Reunited Kingdom"
---
---
The tall grasses of the vast plains of Rohan spread out before Tinsereg. The wind whispered through the air, carrying the scents of pollen and mountain snows with it. It had taken a full week to slip through Ithilien without anyone noticing. It was only possible because the Prince of Harondor took a minimum amount of men with him.
In his place, Tinsereg had appointed his wife Arientari to hold his seat in his absence. She was the scion of a noble Haradrim House that had ruled the lower Harnen River for thousands of years, and its upper reaches for only a short while before the rise of the Reunited Kingdom. Perhaps, there was some Númenorean blood in her veins from a bygone Imperial age. It tended to persist in the bloodlines with which it's had contact.
Beren had been furious at his Lord Governor over that choice. He insisted that Arientari was in no way qualified to lead a Gondorian province. After heated debate, in which Tinsereg never pulled rank (and therefore hoped to avoid an insurrection), Beren retreated to the position that Alquacam should be named Protector of his seat. That would mean she would share her power equally with Alquacam. To placate his General, Tinsereg relented and played it to make Beren believe he'd won a victory over his superior.
Unfortunately, drama is an inherent part of internecine politics, Tinsereg brooded. He later made sure Alquacam knew exactly what was expected of him as Protector of Harondor.
All things considered, Arientari was the best choice. The Haradrim respected her, so they wouldn't be making any extra trouble, plus his wife was an excellent leader. She knew what to do and had enough common sense and inspiration to find the best way to do it. That was the precious talent Cam lacked, inspiration, and it kept him an advisor. Tinsereg hoped that his presence would keep Beren and the other legion generals in line.
The legions followed Tinsereg because it was their duty and they had grown to respect the Prince's leadership. He'd never lost a battle which he'd personally generaled. However, they had no respect and little good will for Arientari.
Cam will do his job and remind the others of their duty, Tinsereg reassured himself. Alquacam had saved his Lord Governorship several times before. He'd better do it again.
That wasn't the real problem, though.
The real problem was how the Rohirrim would now react to him. He had no illusions that he could sneak past them. There was no place to hide in the rolling countryside. What Tinsereg was worried about was some Gondorian raiding party coming up from behind, so he didn't ride openly.
They dressed themselves as ordinary hunters, or perhaps mercenaries. They wore green and brown to better hide in the forests of Ithilien. Chain mail shirts were hidden beneath their tunics and jerkins. They carried their Gondorian armor and sigils hidden on their spare horses, hoping they wouldn't be necessary.
If they are stolen by someone though, Tinsereg knew. They could be used to do a whole lot of damage.
Tinsereg's little band rode out from behind of a few low hills. The sun was shining high in the sky and made the waving grasses glow a healthy green. There were colorful flowers dotting the prairie as well, archipelagoes of brilliant yellows, reds, purples, and orange in the sea of green. It was a scene of rustic beauty that Tinsereg always admired about this primitive land.
This place was wild and untethered, like the horses it was famous for. There were no fences and enclosures that penned in both Man and beast here like in Gondor and Arnor. Rohan was like the Sea: all men who could ride a horse were free and equal. All Men were kings on their own steeds. Loyalties were earned out of respect, not demanded out of pretense.
The whinny of a horse broke the afternoon silence. Suddenly, several horses sprang up from the thick tall grasses. Riders in scale mail charged the Prince's company from all directions. Their captain bore the banner of the House of Eorl: a white horse upon a green field.
Prince Tinsereg steadied his men and bade them to make no aggression. The Riders of Rohan surrounded them with spears and bows. Tinsereg ordered the Captain of his Guards, Herumor, to raise the Gondorian banner. It unfurled and was caught in the breeze.
At this the Rohirrim paused, so Tinsereg took advantage. "I am Prince Tinsereg, King Elaldarsson, of the House of Elessar Telcontar! As allies of Gondor, let myself and my Guards pass! My business is not with yourselves or your King!"
Their captain didn't appear to be impressed, and told them so. However, neither Tinsereg nor any of his Guards spoke or understood their language. The Rohirrim captain was forced to tap the pommel of his sword and gesture for them to surrender their own.
The Guards the loath to give up their swords, but Tinsereg had them dismount and hand their swords over. "You'll get them back," he reassured his men.
Rohan's captain then made it clear that he wanted Tinsereg's sword as well.
At this, Tinsereg drew his sword and thrust it high. The sun's rays caught the blade and it shown with such a brilliant white-red light that the Eorlingas backed off in shock and awe. "This is Hinruin, a Sword of the Princes of Gondor! And it is not yours to hold!" he called out to his would-be captors.
---
The ride to Edoras would take two days. The Riders who captured Tinsereg were now his guides. Their captain, Folcor, was an Undermarshal of the East Mark and did speak the Westron of the Reunited Kingdom after all. He explained that there was a diplomatic delegation from Minas Anor at Edoras, though he refused to name them, and that all unknown travelers were to be stopped and questioned.
Much news of the troubles between Gondor and Arnor was known in Rohan, and more was eagerly sought. Sadly, Tinsereg had no new news to give them. Surprisingly, the Riders were most interested in learning all they could about Tinsereg's Harondor.
It was refreshing for Tinsereg to discuss his fief to a receptive audience. The Riders seemed to hang on his every word, trying to catch every nuance of his speech. Apparently, the Dark Prince was held in higher consideration in Rohan than in his native land.
That night Prince Tinsereg and his Citadel Guards sat close around the small fire while the Riders scouted the surrounding area. They were discussing how they would conduct themselves at Edoras. Folcor would not allow them to pass through Rohan, saying that he hadn't the authority to grant them passage and that only the King could do so.
Tinsereg was frustrated with the detour, but there was no way to avoid it. Besides, it would give him a chance to decipher Esgaler's plans. His brother, Elagor, will have to wait.
Herumor was being the spokesman of his fellow Guardsmen tonight.
"You had us hand our swords over while you refused to surrender yours," he said. "Why make us seem meek, and weaken our manhood in the sight of others?"
"If you had drawn your swords with me we all would have all been cut down." Tinsereg explained. "I had you disarmed so you wouldn't follow suit with me. I know you feel yourselves wronged, and I have wronged you. For that I apologize. But for my actions I will not apologize. For I know I did the right thing."
Herumor nodded and then said, "Perhaps next time we should invest in some bows, then," referring to the race back to Maeglad from the raiders that day.
Tinsereg's smile became a chuckle which then turned into a big laugh that was shared by all his men.
---
The shine off of the Golden Hall of Meduseld came up over the horizon on a bright, sunny morning. The chill air evaporated with the morning dew as the Gondorian travelers and their escort of Riders approached the city.
The great gates of the stone wall of Edoras greeted them. Within the city Tinsereg was surprised by the predominance of Gondorian style architecture within the city. The buildings of precisely hewn granite and plaster did carry horse motifs on nearly every corner and door frame, but they were all essentially Gondorian in construction.
Edoras had grown significantly over the past three hundred years, spreading out nearly a mile wide, centered from the high hill the Golden Hall rested upon. The streets were still shaded but the lamps had been extinguished, giving the city an eerie and quiet feeling.
The Old Quarter at the center of the city was wholly different. Made from timber and daub it resembled Edoras as it had been before the advent of the Reunited Kingdom. The streets here, except the King's Central Road, were the old mud ways as they've always been, and the buildings weren't tall enough to block the sun at this hour.
On the journey to Edoras Tinsereg rode openly as a Prince of Gondor in his White Tree tunic and with the unfurled standard. He noticed though, the people of the Old Quarter seemed more hostile to him than those of the newer neighborhoods.
Their horses were granted space in the Royal Stables, and the travelers walked up the way to the Hall. Again they were asked to surrender their weapons and this time Tinsereg meant to be the first one to do so. Then he had his Guards stand by the doors, so as they wouldn't have to surrender their own a second time to a Rohirrim. "The Golden Hall of Meduseld is quite a safe place," he assured them. "As you can plainly see."
Tinsereg then unharnessed his sword, though he, like legend says Aragorn Elessar did before him, refused to hand it over to the guards. He placed the elven-made gift against the wall himself and bade that no other Man touch it.
Inside the Hall a large table had been set up before the Throne of the King of the Mark of Rohan. At its head sat King Éodred son of Elfdred with his son and heir Prince Éohelm. No dispute here over whose Heir of the Mark, he mused.
On the right side of the table sat Rohan's chief negotiators and diplomats, lords and courtiers all. On the left sat Gondor's delegation. The herald announced him. "Tinsereg Telcontar, son of Elaldar Telcontar, Prince of Gondor and Lord Governor of Harondor."
All in the Hall stood and greeted him.
The head of the Gondorian delegation left the table to walk over to him, and Tinsereg immediately recognized him as the Steward Heremir. The old man smiled as he greeted him, but then leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Why have you come?"
"I meant to catch my brother, but apparently I have need to go through Edoras to do so," he whispered back.
"Oh, that's a shame," the Steward said out loud. "Then you mean to be going quickly?"
Prince Tinsereg actually found himself newly impressed with this old politician. The Steward's and his own affairs have rarely crossed paths for some reason. "I'm afraid I must."
"Good." The old Steward muttered with a smile. Then he remembered something else, something serious. "I'll want to talk to you later."
---
The King of Rohan had demanded an audience with Tinsereg after the negotiations concluded that day. He'd been offered a place at the main dinner table but had politely refused, saying he'd rather be with his men. "For their own sakes, of course."
The Hall had been cleared of the tables and Tinsereg's footfalls echoed off of the hidden walls of the dark room. The King of Rohan sat upon his throne, the only part of the Hall that was light.
Tinsereg bowed politely to the old, gaunt, desiccated-looking man whose figure barely supported his rich robes. Apparently, King Éodred was used to audience members giving deeper bows. He smiled, "You Gondorians are always polite, full of courtesies and niceties; and expect everyone else to be grateful for them."
At least he has all his teeth still, Tinsereg thought. Disease had really ravaged him. "Have I offended you, Excellency?"
"Excellency?" the King appeared to be amused. "The other delegation named me Lord of the Rohirrim."
"Which would you prefer?"
King Éodred chuckled, and then petting his thinning beard said, "I don't mind either, truthfully."
Tinsereg decided it was time to get to the point. "I have not come here to negotiate for anything or anyone, merely to ask for your permission to pass through your lands to the West."
"But if my patrols hadn't caught you, you wouldn't be here to ask, would you?"
"I was under no illusions that I could sneak past your men."
The King laughed again. "Flattery also comes easy to the lips of you people." He sat up straight in his throne. "Your request for safe passage is denied."
That hurt. "May I ask why, Excellency?"
"No, you may not." The King's voice was final and definite.
I guess that should have been expected. Tinsereg took a deep breath. Time to roll the dice. "You cannot stay neutral in this conflict for long, Excellency. Rohan will be drawn into it eventually."
"Who says I mean to stay neutral? The Steward of Gondor is here to negotiate an alliance against your belligerent brother. Men should know the limits of their station and act accordingly."
So it's true. "So the White Tower means to use the Rohirrim to fight its own wars."
"Only if Elagor dares to enter my land."
"And what exactly is your land," challenged Tinsereg. "King Eldarion allowed your people to settle farther down the River Isen - all the way to the Sea. The Men in the Enedwaith and Druwaith-Iaur are largely your own. Will you not defend them?"
"The Enedwaith and Druwaith-Iaur are of Gondor, not of my land," the King retorted. "Many in the Far Mark have answered your brother's call. They are not my people."
The Enedwaith was a province of Arnor after Elessar set the Northern Kingdom's southern border at the Isen for logistical reasons. However, during the reign of his son the population of Rohan had grown tremendously, pressing its small boundaries. High King Eldarion then opened those great prairie lands to settlement by the Rohirrim. However, he struck a hard bargain in that those settlers had to answer to Minas Anor before Edoras.
Many Rohirrim chieftains chafed at the expansion of their people without an expansion of their country. Tinsereg sympathized with their position, but he also understood King Eldarion's decision not to cut the Reunited Kingdom in half. It was the only real solution to prevent a crisis and potential famine in Rohan, but the relationship between the two kingdoms had soured afterward.
"They are still of your people's blood, Excellency. Your hand will be forced whether Elagor crosses the Isen into either Rohan or the Durwaith-Iaur. Your own people will demand it!"
"My own people," King Éodred sounded sorely cross, "My own people! You dare tell me of my own people!" The old king looked an irate stick figure that, if he didn't sit on a very real throne with very real power, he would have made quite a comical sight. "The eóreds of the Far Mark have turned away from Edoras, from the ways of our people!
"They raise horses in the fields sure enough, but they live in villages and cities in the manner of your people. Even the folk of the coasts make small boats and fish! Fish! The Eorlingas were not made to fish!"
"That maybe, Excellency," Tinsereg started. "But they will flood Rohan with refugees and—"
"And it's not just them!" the King continued, ignoring the Gondorian prince. "You saw the city as you came in. You people have turned the jewel of the Kingdom of the Mark of Rohan into a Gondorian city! Your people do more business here than our own! The people speak the Westron of Gondor, they dress as Gondorians and they have little interest in the ways of their own people!"
"Father," Prince Éohelm said as he suddenly entered. "It is time for you get some rest."
The Prince affectionately picked his protesting father up and carried him into the back rooms through the door he came in. When he returned he apologized for his father saying, "Since he's recovered from the Saddle Sickness, his mind has been waning."
"No apologies necessary."
"Still, he does make a good point," Prince Éohelm continued. "Many of our people are resentful. We are surrounded by Gondor. Isenguard is now garrisoned by Gondor -- I hear half the Ents there returned to Fangorn after that, by the way. And even the peoples between our northern boarder and Lothlórian bow to the White Throne. You've built a great city on the banks of the Entwash for your traders on our land, yet Edoras sees little profits from it. Our people see their culture dying right in front of them and being replaced with yours."
"So, I take it that you are actually in charge now," Tinsereg said, wanting to change the subject.
Prince Éohelm smiled, but he seemed saddened. "True, the Marshals now take my orders in lieu of my father. Yet that gives me little peace. My father is weary of life, but weary of your kind even more. Nothing but hatred has he to say these days. It's all that sustains him.
"Personally, I do not share his opinion, but many Riders do and I cannot speak ill of them. When I come to my throne I will need those Riders. The fact that my father still lives is what mostly keeps them peaceful. When he does die though-" the prince shook his head with a worried expression, thinking of the compromises he will have to make with the recalcitrant Riders to come to his inheritance. "They wish to oppose Elagor, keep him off our land."
"That will not work. The Host of Arnor is far too strong, and even if you do succeed, there is no telling what plans the White Tower has planned for Rohan."
"Or Calenardhon." It was a bitter joke, bitterly delivered. Calenardhon being the name of the Gondorian grassland before it was gifted to Eorl and his Riders. "If we cross swords with Elagor the High Queen Aldanna promises free reign for the Eorlingas in Rómenondor. But, as it is said in the Mark these days: beware Gondorians bearing gifts. And this gift seems too good to be true to my ears."
It was a relief to Tinsereg that Prince Éohelm had a discerning eye. It seems Queen Mother Esgaler wishes the Rohirrim to weaken themselves fighting Elagor, slowing him down to give her enough time to marshal all of Gondor-proper for whatever else she had in mind.
Then, if the Eorlingas survive Elagor, they will be either too weak to oppose anyone or she'll try to have them fight the Easterlings who have invaded the eastern territories of the Reunited Kingdom. That she's willing to gift them Rómenondor is proof of that. Give them a reason to fight for it. There was enough history between the Rohirrim and the Wainriders to whip them up in a battle frenzy.
What does she plan for Pelatur then, he wondered. She must be hoping that he falls to an Easterling's sword.
So what is her plan for me? With Elagor and the Rohirrim fighting, she could concentrate on the Wainriders. Keep them out of Ithilien. Or leave them Rómenondor for a time so as to deal with me and what's left of Elagor's host before retaking it. With Rohan's strength severely bled, that would leave her the only functional army in the West. It would be an easy feat to annex Rohan afterwards, no matter if the Rohirrim had Rómenondor open to them or not.
Arnor could be dealt with later.
It was a flawed plan, but it could work.
"I can assure you that it is Esgaler who controls the White Tower," was all Tinsereg could say. "And that she has no good will in mind for you or your people."
"I have been many times to Minas Anor, I know its politics better than you are aware," the Prince of Rohan said. "The Dúnedain believe themselves above -- superior -- to all others. They're no better. Aldanna is merely Esgaler's shield with which she plots behind; just like the Dúnedain use their pride as a shield. Poor girl. I sympathize with Elagor's claim, yet it is not my wish to see Gondor in flames as many other Riders would."
"That is why you must help me," Tinsereg pleaded. "Let me pass and speak to my brother. Mayhaps I can redirect his aims."
Prince Éohelm was of quick mind and caught Tinsereg's meaning immediately. "Have Elagor assail the Easterlings?" He was doubtful. He knew that the wrath of Crown Prince was no easy thing quiet once it was set on a target.
"I have had news of the army as Minas Anor as well. It will be many weeks yet until they have their full strength gathered. The White Tower is only pulling out its garrisons in the western territories in waves. They were waiting for Elagor to make the first move. If I can convince my brother to liberate Rómenondor, will you let his army pass unmolested?"
If the Arnorian host passes through Rohan quickly, then Minas Anor won't have the strength to impede their pass into Rómenondor. However, then a look came over Éohelm that Tinsereg immediately didn't like.
"Then you have not heard," he said darkly.
A million thoughts raced through Tinsereg's mind, all ill.
"Elagor was poisoned by an assassin's dart on the road south," Éohelm explained. "He is in Dunland in the care of those ill-begotten folk. His army has halted there until their General either heals or dies."
Prince Tinsereg backed down as if struck by a blow. Then, "I do not know what comfort I can bring to him or his family. Nor do I know what promises to give to you, but I know that these times demand my presence."
Prince Éohelm thought this over for a while. It seemed to him that this Gondorian prince was run to near exhaustion, though his heart was stalwart and true. "Will the Arnorian host follow you?"
"No," Tinsereg answered. "They will follow Turgor who is just as hot tempered as his father, if not more so."
Again, Prince Éohelm thought at length before answering. "I will not allow Rohan to be a neutral conduit for a dynastic war, preyed upon by both sides. Nor will I have the battlefield be the plains of the Far Mark where my people dwell in peace. Yet, I know that Rohan will not long survive unless we back the winner of this conflict, and even then, that is uncertain. But I will put my faith in you, for I believe you are the only one who can bring us all out of this darkness."
A heavy weight was lifted off of Prince Tinsereg's shoulders, but he felt a new one take its place. He bowed deeply to Prince Éohelm. "I will do all I can not to have your faith in me be in vain."
"You'd better." The Prince of Rohan then turned as if to walk back to his chambers. "Have the leader of the Host of Arnor come to Edoras to negotiate with me and Steward Heremir. The fate of all the West will be decided then. Or not, if you should fail."
---
