A/N: Happy Monday! Today I let my brother use one of my precious Fëanoriel characters. A certain redhead.
Chapter Eight
Threads Intertwined
Thorongil and Elerína slept late into the morning, safe and comfortable in the heart of the Tower of Guard. Thorongil slipped out of their room a bit before ten to meet the runner sent to fetch him. He was eager to meet Gondor's commanders and work among soldiers again. It had been more than six millennia since he last led men into battle.
He joined the King and his commanders in a room behind the throne with only a massive stone table and many oak chairs. At the head of the table sat Aragorn. Several maps of Gondor and the lands about hung on the walls. From here the kings and stewards of Gondor had planned the movements of their armies through countless years of war.
Aragorn's generals paid Thorongil little mind. Some had heard of his meeting with Shelob, but they did not see why this entitled him to hear their strategies. They certainly did not want his advice. Thorongil for his part said nothing. He knew the value of speaking last if at all. He sat quietly and learned the deployments of Gondor's forces.
On the matter of Cirith Ungol Aragorn asked him to speak. He reported what he knew of the enemy force: it was at least one hundred and fifty strong and was only part of an unknown force under the command of a sorceress of unknown origin or intent. It was the consensus of the generals that they not attack until they knew more of their enemy and could mount an effective defense of the tower after they took it. Thorongil offered no advice on the matter. He thought they should make some response while Shelob was injured and hopefully before the orcs received reinforcements. Even if they could muster only a small sortie, it would be a sign of weakness to do nothing.
"Alright, you are dismissed," said Aragorn after hearing all there was to hear. "Not you, Fëalas. Thorongil, remain as well."
Fëalas was currently serving as the commander of all the rangers stationed in central Gondor. She had offered no opinion on the Cirith Ungol situation.
"You were awfully quiet," said the King to his niece.
"You know what I think," she replied. "We should send a sortie, if only to fly the flag. We should do it while Shelob is injured and before the orcs can recover."
Thorongil nodded in agreement.
"Tell Captain Anders I have a mission for him," ordered the King. "And take Thorongil with you to see your barracks."
Fëalas led Thorongil swiftly out of the palace and down to the sixth level. They went to a large building and stepped into what looked like a great feasting hall. Rows of wooden tables and benches lined the room. Hanging on the walls were huge paintings of great battles of the Rangers' past.
"Captain!" shouted the first ranger to see the King's niece. The hall immediately went silent as a library.
"First Rangers, second company - travelling gear!" said Fëalas softly. Fifty or so men leapt from their benches and rushed out of the room to find their gear. A young man ran up to her and stood at attention.
"The King wants to see you, Captain," said Fëalas with a tight smile and a nod.
Thorongil returned to the seventh level with Captain Anders. The King was waiting for them by the fountain.
"Captain Anders, you are going to Mordor," said the King.
"Yes sir!" replied Anders, clearly excited at the prospect.
"This is Thorongil," the King continued. "He'll be going with you."
"For what purpose sir?"
"He's an experienced soldier," replied Aragorn. "Trust his judgement."
Aragorn ordered Captain Anders to investigate the situation at Cirith Ungol and if an opportunity presented itself to attack the enemy. He knew Anders well; he was a man who would make his own opportunity. They were to leave before dawn the next day.
While Thorongil was recapturing his youth as a soldier, Elerína wandered about the palace and the Citadel Court outside. She meandered into a garden and stared up at the sky.
"I require more paper," said a feminine voice. Elerína looked briefly and saw a tall woman sitting on a stone bench writing something on parchment.
"Now, Miss," it said after a moment.
"Do I look like a servant to you," replied Elerína, realizing the woman spoke to her.
"I don't know who you are," answered the woman, "but in this city I will be addressed with the respect owed my station."
"And what station is that?" asked Elerína.
"I am Amdirien, eldest daughter of the King," she replied.
Elerína lowered her gaze from the sky. She had erred, and she knew it.
"Forgive me, m'lady," she said. "Where might I find said paper?"
"Ask one of the servants inside," replied Amdirien.
Elerína returned to the house. "Less than a year ago I had the Vanyar and the Noldor competing for my attention," she mumbled to herself in her own tongue.
When she returned with paper a few minutes later Amdirien was slowly backing towards the door to the palace. Before her in the garden stood a great eagle of the mountains.
"It's about time you showed up," shouted Elerína. The animal bowed its head in shame. He had come as fast as he could and did not understand that Elerína's words were meant for Amdirien to hear and not a genuine criticism.
Amdirien stood speechless as Elerína handed her the paper.
"Who are you?" asked the princess.
"Elerína."
"I heard about your meeting with my father," said Amdirien.
Elerína made no response, forcing Amdirien to continue.
"Where are you from?"
"The west," answered Elerína.
"Can you be more specific?"
"Do I have your word that you will speak of it to no one but your father?"
Amdirien paused. She was not accustomed to others making demands of her. "Very well," she said at last.
"I am from The West," whispered Elerína. "Across the sea."
"Were it not for my father's strange response to your letter I wouldn't believe you," gasped Amdirien. "Does my father know more of you and your purpose?"
"What I have or have not shared with your father is itself a matter of secrecy," Elerína replied.
"You don't make it easy to trust you," Amdirien sighed. "But I suppose you don't need my trust, do you?"
Elerína smiled, but the words stung. "An astute observation," she said in a softer tone. "What is it you were writing?"
The poor eagle in the courtyard stretched it wings, still awaiting its Mistress's attention.
"I'll be with you in a moment," shouted the maia.
"I am writing a speech," explained the princess. "I am to travel to Dol Amroth to host an annual festival celebrating winter."
Elerína tilted her head in confusion. "Winter?"
"It is something of a new year's celebration," Amdirien explained. "They hold it a few weeks late so that people can attend festivities in other cities and then their own."
Elerína laughed. "Let me help you with that. I have some experience writing speeches, both for myself and for others. But first, you should meet the eagle."
Amdirien hesitated. Elerína put her arm around her shoulder and led the princess up to the magnificent creature.
"You should not be afraid of the eagles," she said. "They are the guardians of your skies. They are Manwë's eyes and Eönwë's talons."
"They are also exceedingly large," objected the princess, shaking her head as Elerína inched her towards the bird. "And they do not love mortal men, save when we are beyond all aid but theirs. If tales are to be believed they are proud, mysterious, and aloof - not unlike their masters, it would seem."
Elerína smiled; at last, a sharp tongue to match her own. "You take after your great-grandmother."
"Which one?" asked Amdirien proudly.
Elerína rolled her eyes. "Galadriel; Elwing was quiet and humble."
The great eagle lowered his head as they came up to him so that they stood eye to eye. Elerína took Amdirien's hand in hers and ran it down the eagles beak and through his feathers.
"See," she said, "flesh and blood, just like you."
"Does it have a name?" asked Amdirien.
"I most certainly do!" exclaimed the bird. "Though you could not pronounce it."
Amdirien leapt back in amazement.
"You will address the daughter of the King with more respect," snapped Elerína. The eagle looked away. His instincts and Elerína's force of will compelled him to obey her, but this was not how he had intended to spend such a beautiful morning.
Elerína spoke quickly to the bird in the tongue of the Ainur. It understood her commands though it could not speak the language of its makers. As it flew off to its eyrie high in the mountains Amdirien watched in awe.
"What did you tell it?" asked Amdirien. "Unless that is also a secret."
"I asked him to gather his kin on Mindolluin," she replied, "and to make sure one of their kind is always present in case I have need of them."
"Beautiful, aren't they?" said a voice just behind Amdirien. She spun round, terribly startled. Thorongil was looking up at the eagle.
"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that!" exclaimed the princess.
Thorongil only cackled. He and Elerína then spoke at length in their own tongue. Amdirien waited patiently but uncomfortably for them to finish. She often took advantage of the educated's knowledge of Quenya when conversing in the company of common men. She was not used to being the one unable to understand the speech of others.
After they finished speaking Thorongil went swiftly back into the palace. Elerína and Amdirien followed at a more comfortable pace.
"Let's take a look at that speech," said the maia.
A level below the palace, in the houses of healing, Caranel lay with Eddil sitting by her side, her hand in his. Gram, Aldamir, and Timothy were just arriving to see her. She still could not walk; she could barely sit up.
"What do the healers say?" asked Gram.
"That I will probably live," said Caranel faintly. "As to a recovery, they promise nothing. They say I might never walk again."
"Maybe you should ask that maia friend of yours for help," said Aldamir to Timothy.
"It can't hurt," sighed Eddil.
Timothy nodded. "I will, but I have another idea, a more practical one. Did any of you notice how terrible Thorongil's arm looked when he returned from Shelob's Lair?"
"He held it like it was broken," recalled Aldamir. "We couldn't see the wound through that creepy black armor he suddenly was wearing. Where did that come from anyway?"
"I'm working on that too," said Timothy. "But back to the matter at hand - I did get a look at the wounds, and I have never seen their like. Terrible burns and a deep cut. I could see bone!"
"Your point?" asked Aldamir.
"He looked just fine carrying his things out of the inn last night," replied Timothy. "If he were human, I think he would have lost the arm, or at least all use of it."
"Just because he can heal himself doesn't mean he can heal others," sighed Eddil.
"Ah, but I don't think he did heal himself," Timothy proudly explained. "remember how strongly he objected to going to ranger basecamp with Miller on the first night home? He still looked hurt."
"It isn't called 'ranger basecamp,' it is Faramir Hall," interrupted Caranel.
"Ranger basecamp sounds better," laughed Gram. Caranel only shook her head.
"So you think Elerína healed him?" deduced Aldamir.
"Brilliant, Aldamir," Timothy replied.
"How do we find her?" asked Eddil. "I heard that they are now guests of the King."
"I'd recommend asking around ranger basecamp," said Timothy with a giggle.
"You'd better hope I don't recover!" laughed Caranel with a shake of her fist.
Timothy put his hand on her shoulder. "If there is a way to help you, we'll find it."
Eddil and Timothy went to Faramir Hall and were warmly greeted. Eddil was well known to the rangers of Caranel's company. Unfortunately Fëalas was elsewhere so no one there could take them to the palace.
Aldamir took a different approach. He went to his father, a wealthy merchant and a man of high birth, who was permitted onto the seventh level. That proved to be only half the battle, however, as Elerína was inside the palace and Aldamir's father could not enter without the invitation of the King. Fortunately he saw Thorongil and Captain Anders walking through the Fountain Court.
"Thorongil!" he shouted, rushing up to them.
Captain Anders was unhappy to be interrupted in this manner, as he and his mysterious new ally planned their sorté into the Land of Shadow.
"Caranel is not healing well," Aldamir hurriedly explained. "Timothy thought perhaps you or your wife could help her?"
"I can do nothing," replied Thorongil. "I will ask Elerína if she can help her."
"Thank you for anything you can do," said Aldamir as he left.
"If there is anything your wife can do, please have her do it," Anders interjected. "Caranel is a great ranger. We trained together."
"I am sure Elerína will help if she can," nodded Thorongil.
That night, Elerína slipped into the houses of healing. She reached Caranel's room unseen but found it quite occupied. Caranel lay in tears, Eddil holding her hand and Timothy holding his carven stone, praying to Ilmarë and Estë.
"I can't feel my legs anymore," she sobbed. "The healers say I will never walk again."
"Can you help her?" asked Timothy.
"I don't know," Elerína replied. "If I do, you must tell no one of it."
No one said a word.
"I mean it," she said sternly. "Do you understand? You must speak to no one of anything regarding this - not the King, not your friends, no one!"
"We understand," they all replied in unison.
"Then stand aside," sighed the maia.
She stepped up alongside the wounded ranger. With a single mysterious word Caranel fell asleep. Elerína's hand at first looked perfectly natural, but as she placed it on Caranel's chest it seemed to glow from within. After a few minutes she stepped away and sat on a small bench, feigning fatigue.
After a few more minutes Caranel sat up, not sure where she was. As she regained her wits she gasped. She could not only feel her legs, they felt strong.
"Don't get up," cautioned Elerína, "it will take time for your strength to return."
"Thank you!" wept the young Ranger.
Elerína rose and embraced her.
"I've given you a second chance," she whispered. "Don't waste it!"
She swore them all to secrecy, and insisted they swear Aldamir and Gram to the same when they learned of Caranel's miraculous recovery. Timothy slipped his stone back into his pocket as she left. Elerína smiled. Perhaps someday she could tell him who she was.
