A/N: Thanks to anyone reading this story! Can't believe it's almost at 600 reads now! It's greatly appreciated. Love you all! :)


Raised Fists

The ambush was well underway, and Faramir, Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien and Lord of Emyn Arnen was leading it, his armour shining brightly in the moonlight and his sword flashing as it fell upon his foes. Those who beheld him saw him as he was in his younger years, leading the recapture of Osgiliath, defending Gondor from the armies of Sauron. Elboron saw his father in a way he never had before. He truly was a great warrior, as all the tales told.

They had gathered around one of the old watch-towers on the borders of Ithilien which had become home to some of the Shadow Orcs and begun to assault it as soon as night fell. The Orcs were falling to their blades like flies.

As the last Orc outside the tower fell his father turned to face him. "Come, let us go inside."

"You think more are within?"

"Yes, I do. And we should search it for any clues as to their movements."

Elboron nodded, gripping his sword tightly. He'd only been back in action for the better part of a week after his arm had healed, but already he felt way out of step. He'd chosen to come back to the land of his birth rather than remain with Gondor's main army. Eldarion had begged him to remain in Minas Tirith to defend the city by night and practice their 'magic' by day, his uncle Éomer had requested his aid in Rohan, and his father had wished him by his side in Ithilien. He was being pulled in so many directions he did not know where to turn.

His father's men had already broken through the heavy door at the base of the tower and he entered with his father alert for any movement in the shadows. He tried to keep his arm from trembling, a combination of both fatigue and fear. His dreams had been more troubled lately; the city of Dale was burning, and the person whose mind he was sharing was terrified. He wondered if that terror was not leaking through to his waking thoughts for everyday now he lived with a cold dread and jumped at the slightest noise. Or maybe he really was a coward at heart. He looked at his father up ahead. He'd followed his footsteps and become a Captain of Gondor. It was what was expected for one of his station and breeding after all, despite how much he shied from the thought of it. How could any son of such valiant parents be a coward?

Eldarion sprung into his vision. What sort of Steward would he become if he feared to speak his mind? His loyalty to his friend was testing every limit he had to the extreme. He did not know how much of this deception he could bear.

His father's head jerked and he gave a cry, running up some stairs and into a wide room, some sort of holding area with his sword outstretched. Elboron followed him, summoning what little courage he had, quickly despatching the first leering Orc he came across. As it fell, he could see the rest of the room more clearly where his father and his men were fighting. But beyond them, huddled on the ground in chains were a group of prisoners. Elvish prisoners.

As Elboron's gaze fell upon the tall Elf that seemed to be their leader, a jolt of recognition ran through him like fire. In that moment he stood not in Ithilien but in a sun-dappled forest under a green canopy. The Elf was before him, dressed in the garb of a warrior, smiling at him, showing him a variety of weapons and teaching him how to use them. Istonon. The word came to him then from long memory. Teacher. He looked at the other Elves, and he knew their faces too. His mind wandered once more, and for a second he caught a glimpse of that dark cell and its prisoner … these were the Elves captured alongside her. It was she who was recognising them through his eyes.

"Elboron! Tiro!"

He jumped as Eldarion's voice sounded as loud in his mind as if he had been standing beside him. But he had no time to wonder what had happened. He had halted a second too long. He turned just as he saw a pair of large, strong arms reaching out to him, seizing him from around his neck. The stench of decay filled his lungs. Panic threatened to overwhelm him then. He struggled fiercely, kicking his opponent away and trying to step out of his reach. Just as it looked he would be grabbed again his father leapt into the frame, slicing off its head with one fell swoop, sending the Orc back into shadows.

Elboron breathed out, and staggered backwards, his mind still ringing with Eldarion's voice. He felt sickened. So close …

The battle was over, and the prisoners cried out in joy as the men of Gondor went to free them from their bonds. But Faramir had turned to his son, his face white with fury.

"What were you thinking?" his father demanded. "Stopping in the middle of battle like that? You should know better!"

"I-I'm sorry, father," Elboron stammered, his face burning hot.

"You might have been taken!" his father said, coming closer, his eyes wild. "Do you know what that would have done to me? Your mother?"

Elboron swallowed, his throat tight. He knew that he now appeared a greater coward than ever. And all his father's men were here to see this.

His father's eyes softened, and he breathed deeply. "Elboron, what is happening to you?" he asked, his voice quieter. "Tell me, please."

"I don't know," Elboron said honestly. "I don't know."


Eldarion paced impatiently around the encampment as Osgiliath, his hands clenched in anticipation. He had to be alright … he had to be …

For a week now his father had been assembling his army here on the east shores outside the city of Osgiliath, which had still not been fully rebuilt. All his father's allies were here in a veritable city of tents, Éomer, Imrahil, his uncles, Gimli and a contingent of Dwarves, Legolas and his Elves, Éowyn and most of the fighting force of Ithilien and even the three Hobbits, all with short swords strapped to their belts. They were to make an attempt on the Morgul Vale within days. Faramir and other captains had been sent out to retake the watch-towers along the way to ease their passage.

Elboron had gone with his father to retake one of these towers, and they had been due to return before sunset, which was only in an hour or so, and they had not yet arrived. Eldarion was sick with worry. He ran through what had happened once more. While sitting in his own tent cleaning his sword he had been hit with a wave of emotion from Elboron through their link that had left him gasping for breath. He had blinked and then seen before him a room of fighting Men and Orcs, and Elvish prisoners. Elboron had been staring at them, feeling recognition that Eldarion shared, and had not been aware of the presence that even he, leagues away could sense coming behind him. All he could think about in that moment was warning him, and he had called out with his mind, desperate to be heard, hoping against hope that it would work when so often it had failed in their practice sessions.

He was left unsatisfied, as the link had broken then and Eldarion was seized with a dread of what that could mean. Please, Valar, protect him.

He heard the ringing of a horn, and was running the next second, arriving at his father's tent just as Faramir was dismounting from his horse. Eldarion ran forwards and did not relax until he saw Elboron beside him. His body felt weak from relief.

"Valar, be thanked," he said as he approached. "I thought you had been taken!"

"He almost was," Faramir said sharply. His eyes narrowed. "But how do you know that?"

Elboron looked to Eldarion and he was shocked to see an anger glimmering there behind his eyes. They were spared answering when Eldarion's father approached with all the lords and ladies of his council.

"It is done then?" he asked.

As Faramir answered in the affirmative, Legolas from his position beside the king gave a cry.

"Arveldir!" He hurried forwards to the group of Elves that had come up behind Faramir and his men and approached their leader. "It gives me great joy to see you."

"For us as well, my prince," the Elf said, bowing. He was dressed in ragged clothes that had likely once been of fine making. "We had thought never to be delivered from our captors."

"But is this all of you?" Legolas asked, his face falling. "What of Neniel?"

Arveldir exchanged glances with his fellow Elves. "The princess was separated from us, my lord. We have not seen her for two weeks."

"But what-"

"I fear some evil purpose in this, Aragorn," Faramir said then. "The prisoners had been moved there to that tower specifically from Minas Morgul, and not well guarded. The assault was far easier than it should have been."

His father's eyes widened. "You think they wanted us to rescue them? But why? For what purpose?"

"I cannot say."

"But Arveldir," Legolas interrupted, his voice quick and thick. "Tell me more of my daughter. Tell me what happened after our fight with them."

Arveldir's face was cast in shadow. "They transported us through shadows, I know not how, bringing us to that foul city and chaining us to the walls of its courtyard to be at the mercy of the elements. The Orcs there are fouler than any I have ever fought. They are more corpses than living creatures. We were beaten and starved, forced to watch as they tormented us one by one with whips and brands." He paused and ran his hand over his face. "I saw many Orcs that were more highly ranked, but there was another presence still in that city, one that was not an Orc, but something worse. We never saw it, but we felt it with us always."

"And Neniel?" Legolas' eyes were pleading now.

"She was kept in a separate place, locked in a cell away from the rest of us. I don't know what they did to her there." The elf's voice wavered. "Every day they bought her out to look at us. From high on the battlement she was forced to look down on us in the courtyard as they tortured us. But she did not falter. She looked down on us with no fear on her face, lifting our hearts with kind words and smiles. She would not let them destroy her spirit."

"They were harsh with her, dragging her forcefully and striking her, but she never cried out nor wept. Instead, she laughed. Laughed at all their cruel jibes and horrors. We saw her last two weeks ago before they moved us to that tower, and she watched us leave with a light in her eyes and a song on her lips. Never have I seen one so brave or noble as she, my lord. A maiden of no fear. Without her fair laughter and resolute spirit I doubt any of us would have long lasted that dark place. She has earned our love a hundredfold."

No one spoke for a moment, the Elf's words ringing through the air. Legolas closed his eyes and managed a small smile through his grief. "Neniel, gerich 'ûn sui raw. Unad nuithatha i nîr e-guren nalú aderthad vín."

Eldarion's mind was filled then with thoughts of Neniel, remembering the sound of the laughter he had heard in his dreams. That innocent, carefree laughter. It spoke of the bravery and nobility that Arveldir observed, but at odds with what he knew about her. She was terrified, bound by grief and suffering in that dark place. He thought of his dreams of recent nights when her presence had been so much fainter. Her spirit was weakening.

"Soon we shall be in a position to rescue her, Legolas," his father said. "Your reunion will not be much longer. Tell me, Faramir, of this attack. What makes you think it was suspicious?"

Faramir launched into an account of the battle, but Elboron had looked to Eldarion and jerked his head to the side, motioning him to follow. He noticed his father watching them as they left the congregation of kings, princes, lords and ladies of the West but he said nothing as they moved a little way away, further down the hill upon which the king's tents stood.

"I'm so glad you're alright, Elboron," Eldarion said. "I was so worried about you."

"Were you?" Elboron asked, and again Eldarion was surprised at the hint of anger there was in his tone.

"Of course. I saw what was happening and tried to warn you."

Elboron had gone pale. "How did you do that, Eldarion?" he asked. "How can you be in my mind like that when I am in danger?"

"I don't know-"

"I was almost captured, Eldarion," Elboron said, his voice rising. His cheeks had gone pink but he looked determined. "He had me. If not for my father I'd now be sharing Neniel's cell. All because I got distracted in a battle by memories that weren't even my own!"

"Elboron, listen-"

"No, you listen!" he cried, and Eldarion was conscious of a few people on the hill beginning to stare at them. "I'm telling them the truth, Eldarion. We need to tell them now. We're in danger, all of us. They deserve to know. We can't do this on our own anymore."

"You can't!" Eldarion said. "They won't understand. We need to do this together-"

"Together? That's a joke! It's all about you. It's always about you. Precious Prince Eldarion and his faithful sidekick that keeps his mouth shut." Elboron was shouting now, his body trembling as he unleashed the pent-up emotions of the last two months. "No more. I'm telling them."

He started to walk back up the hill where everyone was now looking at them, but Eldarion was seized with blind panic. He grabbed hold of Elboron's arm and tried to pull him back. "No!"

"Let go of me!"

"Stop this!"

They struggled a moment before Elboron beat away his arm and tried to leave. Eldarion seized him again and then suddenly he had twisted fully and struck him hard across the face. Reeling from the blow, he saw Elboron's eyes widen in shock at what he had done. But something now had snapped within Eldarion, his barrage of worry, fear, anger and frustration now released in full force and he no longer saw his friend before him, only an enemy, one he could rage against to ease the fear in his heart. He flew at Elboron, not heeding any of the many people around him and landed his own punch on his jaw, his fist throbbing in pain. Elboron fought back as fiercely, kicking and punching in a way he had never dared in their play fights as boys. In a moment they were on the ground, grabbing at each other, kicking and fighting each other off. Eldarion saw only red before his eyes as he fought as hard as he could through his own pain, determined to pour as much of his own suffering as he could onto this man, landing as many blows as he could on every part he could reach, crying out when he received some in return. He heard people shouting on him but all he could think of was causing as much pain as he could.

Someone strong seized him from behind and dragged him away from Elboron, who himself had been similarly grabbed by a tall figure. He struggled with all his might, half standing half being lifted by the person behind him as he sought to try and get back to the fight. He shook with fury, straining as hard as he could against his captor.

"Hû úgaun!" he cried, glaring across the gap between them, not caring who heard. "Gen ú-velin!"

Unfortunately, Elboron's Elvish was almost as good, if not better than his own, and the response was swift.

"Dôl gín cofn! Mítho orch!"

"Gerich thû sui orch!"

"Dîn!" He heard his father shout, his voice cold with anger. "Such childish insults have no place in the mouths of ones of your station. Be silent!"

Eldarion stopped struggling and breathed deeply, now feeling the pain of those blows and knew they would soon be turning into bruises. It was then he finally noticed that it was his father who had pulled him away from Elboron, and that Faramir had similarly restrained his own son. All those who had been part of his father's counsel were now gathered around, staring in shock at the scene before them. Eldarion was immediately filled with shame.

His father let him go and he moved around to his front and stood before him, tall and glowering, and for the first time in his life Eldarion was afraid of him.

"Explain!"

Eldarion faltered, but Elboron was quicker.

"My lord, we need to tell you-"

"Don't you dare!" Eldarion interrupted furiously. "You swore to keep this secret!"

"Well now I'm unswearing," Elboron countered. His voice was louder than Eldarion had ever heard it before. "All my life I've been keeping silence for you, covering for you, lying for you. Well, I've had enough! It's time you stop being a coward and tell the truth."

"I'm a coward!" Eldarion repeated. "You're the one who's a coward! Trying desperately to act like a Captain of Gondor when you'd rather huddle inside a library away from the fight."

"I'd rather be a scholar than some spoiled prince chasing after glory," Elboron spat. "It's pathetic!"

"Well said by one who cares so little for glory he won't even speak for fear of drawing attention to himself. Who will ever remember you?"

"Enough!"

His father had shouted again and he glared at them both. The watching crowd was silent, looking from one to the other with mouths agape. Éomer and Éowyn stood near Elboron, watching as if they had never seen him before, and the Hobbits had their hands over their mouths. His uncles were looking at him with identical expressions of astonishment.

"For two lords of Gondor to be seen brawling like common drunkards brings shame upon the kingdom and all within it," his father said, voice laced with steel. He looked to his son. "Eldarion Telcontar, tell me now. What is this secret you speak of? Do not lie."

Eldarion hesitated, almost quailing under his father's gaze. He had never looked at him like that before. The thought of telling him now … revealing all of his fears, his doubts and anxieties, the deeply personal nature of what was happening to them … it was shameful. He would be proving himself the unworthiest of sons. A weakling.

"Tell him!" Elboron shouted, eyes hard. "Go on!"

Eldarion looked at him, all trace of anger gone in face of his fear. "I can't," he choked out, voice barely above a whisper. "Don't make me."

Elboron's anger also faded, and he blinked, his eyes softer. "It will not change his opinion of you," he urged. "Estelio enni."

"Eldarion?" His father was now looking at him more closely. His anger too was gone, replaced by fear as his eyes roamed over his son's face. "Tell me."

"I-" he began, voice quavering. He swallowed. "It's … it's about … about Neniel."

"Neniel?" Legolas had sprung forwards, eyes wide. "What about her?"

But anything Eldarion might have said next was drowned out by the blowing of many horns and the ringing of bells.

"Awake! Awake! We are under attack!"

The call came and everyone immediately reached for their weapons. His father immediately changed from king and father into fearless warrior.

"It appears you were right, Faramir," he said gravely. "That raid was too easy. They have followed us here."

"For what purpose?"

His father's eyes drifted to the two young men, both still breathing heavily and nursing minor wounds.

"Stay in the camp, both of you," he said. "We will resume this later."

And with a flapping of his cloak and a ringing sound as he drew Andúril from its sheath he had run in the direction of the Orcs and the battle-cries that were already beginning. Soon the others had followed, departing to lead their own men against the enemy, leaving Eldarion and Elboron alone at the foot of the hill, surrounded by the empty tents of the commanders.

Eldarion stared at his feet, unable to meet his friend's eyes. His fists were aching and he felt bruises erupting all over his body. His hands shook.

Elboron said nothing either. The sound of his breathing was loud in the stillness around them, the sounds of battle far off. Neither was willing to break the silence.

Coward, Elboron had called him, and Eldarion miserably admitted it to be true. No fear in battle had he, but in matters that really counted, he had allowed his fears to overcome him. He was ashamed of himself.

"Goheno nin," Eldarion burst out, unable to bear it. Forgive me.

"Ú-moe edaved!," came the response, and Eldarion's head snapped up, hardly daring to believe it.

"You mean it?" he asked, and when the nod came he exclaimed, "But I said such cruel things to you."

"Not more cruel than what I said to you."

"But you were right," Eldarion said, running his hands through his hair. "Everything you said was right. I should have told him."

"We'll soon fix that. Everything will be put right," Elboron said, smiling. "Though I must admit, I like it when you admit you're wrong."

Eldarion laughed. "Don't get used to it."

Elboron joined him, and for a moment they were once again the carefree youths of only a few months ago. But that illusion was soon shattered.

A creeping cold and terrible stench had overcome them. Out of the shadows of the tents around them evil faces were ogling them, foul mouths stretched wide to reveal rotten, yellow fangs and black tongues. Immediately the two men drew their swords and turned back to back to fight their enemy, but it was of no use. There were at least fifty Orcs to their two blades.

Eldarion's heart went cold. This is the end.


The Orcs vanished as soon as the first light of day crept over the ruins of Osgiliath and fell upon the encampment, as they always did. Aragorn was left with a terrible sense of misgiving as they turned into smoke and fell into to wind. One hundred Orcs against an army of thousands? What could have been their aim?

Faramir stood by his side, and he too looked troubled. The battle had lasted barely fifteen minutes. Why would Orcs attack in so few numbers for so short a time?

As he and his Council once more entered the camp to the cheers of their army his worry only increased. He was missing something. Some oversight on his part. His entire being was screaming at him to do something.

As the troop reached the circle of tents of the commanders he felt a great horror fill him. He knew what had happened.

"King Elessar! King Elessar!" a young soldier was screaming as he ran towards him. "It's the Lords Eldarion and Elboron. They've been taken!"

Aragorn felt his body turn to ice. It seemed to him then that he had been standing upon a great precipice and how he was falling, down and down into an endless Void.

He turned to Faramir whose face had gone slack with fear. "That rescue did have a purpose," he said faintly. "It made sure that both of them were in the same place at the same time."

Faramir said nothing, and instead fell to his knees. Aragorn felt like joining him. He caught Legolas' eye and for the first time truly understood what he had been going through.

He did not think he could survive this pain.


Sindarin Elvish:

Istonon- Teacher

Tiro! - Look out!

Neniel, gerich 'ûn sui raw. Unad nuithatha i nîr e-guren nalú aderthad vín- Neniel, you have the heart of a lion. Nothing will stop the weeping of my heart until our reunion.

Hû úgaun! Gen ú-velin!- Cowardly dog! I hate you!

Dôl gín cofn! Mítho orch!- Your head is empty! Go kiss an Orc!

Gerich thû sui orch- You smell like an Orc!

Dîn!- Silence!

Estelio enni- Trust me

Goheno nin- Forgive me

Ú-moe edaved!- It is not necessary to forgive

Name Translations (OCs):

Arveldir- Royal Friend (Sindarin)