Title: 'The Return to Torech Ungol'
Chapter Nine: 'The Flight to Minas Estel'
Author: Anna Rousseau
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings
Genre: Adventure/Drama
Rating: PG
Set: 1426 SR - six years after the fall of Sauron
Summary: The Shadow has passed, but great and terrible things existed before the Dark Lord, and now they outlive him even in the New Age of King Elessar. This chapter tells of the darkest hours of the New Age when King Elessar is close to untimely death after his slaying of Daebeleg and his friends Faramir, Merry and Legolas are stricken by Shelob's poison. Concluding chapter.
Notes on Lore: It might be useful to reacquaint yourselves with the Appendices relating to the line of Númenor in order to fully understand this story, though it is by no means vital to enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to dear old Professor Tolkien. Though I have slightly adapted the lore of the great Prof. in order to serve my story.
Middle-earth Disclaimer: The story is set after Book Six: The End of the Third Age. It complies with the history of Middle-earth, as is accurate with dates and places and events and so forth, though the adventure told in this story was never chronicled in the Red Book nor other books of lore of Gondor.
A/N: After starting this story in February, it is finally at a close and I have finished the Silmarillion - double hurrah. I just hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I relished writing this tale. I hope the angst and h/c fulfils some of your wishes!
CHAPTER X - 'THE FLIGHT TO MINAS ESTEL'
======================================
When the Host of Osgiliath reached the summit of the Great Stair they beheld the Hall of the Moon not as a place of great splendour as it had been constructed in the days of Elendil, but as a place of unknown terror as the great webs of Shelob's kin seemed to catch even the dark shadows with their thick silk. And as the company advanced, the heralds calling forth the enemy to a challenge, thousands of dark forms crept from their hammocks, their potent stench being more vile than the foulest decaying corpse.
And there it was that Beregond lifted forth his spear as had Gil-galad in days of old and thousands of Elven swords were raised by the men of Gondor. They charged forth and the cry of 'Elessar' could be heard throughout the dark citadel as Elven blade met with shadowed flesh and the Men fought with valour equal to that of the Dúnedain on that day of which so many tales were told in Middle-earth and in Valinor for the history of Estel Elessar and Arwen Undómiel was one the Eldar held as close to their hearts as that of Lúthien Tinúviel and Beren Erchamion.
In that hall many of the great spiders of Melkor's creation were slain by the terrible might of Gondor, though Men also fell amongst the injured and the day was remembered as 'Daerist' the Shadow Breaking, an event remembered with profound melancholy.
And it was upon that day that Beregond, Captain of Osgiliath and leader of that terrible host, slew Shelob of Ungoliant's descent, his elven blade being Orcrist of Thorin given to King Elessar by the Dwarves on his coronation to mark renewed friendship between the two races. And Orcrist glittered as mithril as it cleaved through the limbs and hard skin of Shelob, and it made a fearsome sound as Beregond wielded the weapon of Gondolin. With a final blow Beregond thrust the sword into Shelob's heart from where he stood under her great body and a shrill shriek filled the Hall as she collapsed on top of him, Beregond only just escaping the crushing pressure of her carcass. Then it was said that the spiders gave up struggle as their mother was slain and many of their kin were dead at the hands of the might of Gondor, and the creatures fled from Minas Ithil seeking the dark caverns of Ephel Duath and Cirith Ungol, their dark shadows never to be seen again in the realm of King Elessar.
***
The dying cry of Shelob was so fell it roused even Aragorn from his deathly slumber and his eyes opened to see a faint figure in front of him. The King tried to pull himself to his feet, but the effort was too great and he fell back against the plinth on which stood the palantír of Minas Ithil, his head ringing with a terrible pain.
"Mae govannen i Minas Morgul," said the figure and as Aragorn's eyes became more focused he beheld a tall Man, though his back was bent and his hair grey and his skin showing the creases of the final days of life. Even as Aragorn looked at the Man he seemed to age, his hair becoming white and his bones weakening before his body.
"'Tis not Minas Morgul, my liege. This is Minas Ithil of Gondor and Arnor and I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, King Elessar they call me." And Aragorn swallowed and closed his eyes for the effort of speech was as much as was needed to drain him of the last of his energy.
"Well so be it," replied the Man in Common Speech. "Though many years have passed if Gondor has given up on its King, and of Aragorn son of Arathorn I do not know if he be of Númenorean descent."
Aragorn frowned, thinking that the apparition was no more than an imagining of his poisoned mind, "Gondor having given up on its King? What do you mean by these words?"
The Man raised his head and a regal light seemed to shine dimly about his head as a coronet. "I am named King Eärnur, King of Gondor and heir of Elendil born of the Númenorean kings in the line of Beren and Lúthien. I came to challenge the Lord of the Kings of Angmar and have been imprisoned in these walls for how many years I do not know."
"King Eärnur," Aragorn breathed at the name of legend and he felt his mind become weary again. "Yet, you came to face your challenge in the year 2050 of the Third... Age, and it is now the Fourth Age and hundreds... of years have... passed."
"Hundreds of years?" Eärnur replied, and to Aragorn it seemed as if some spark of hope in his eyes vanished. "Yet, I am still alive and the Kings of Númenor may live many years more than those of Middle-earth, though I feel I am existing past my time. Tell me, what has passed since my reign."
So it was that Eärnur had been preserved in the bloom of youth for many a century by the evil of the lesser rings of the Fallen Kings in their abode of Minas Estel. But now their terrible power had diminished with the slaying of Daebeleg and the defeat of the residual evil of Sauron. And now the King was to fade with them as only a memory of a distant age.
Aragorn gritted his teeth as a new wave of pain swept through his bones, his breathing laboured and speech broken. "That I cannot... explain at this time as it is a long... and grim tale, yet now the evil of Mordor has been... defeated... as has the Ring... of Power which governed the rings of the Nazgul."
"Then my time has passed," said Eärnur, the weight of his doom resting finally upon him. "I shall lay down here to rest in the place that was both my palace and my prison, and I shall let my final breath escape my mouth."
Aragorn shook his head, biting back the pangs of his pain. "No, you shall return... to Minas Anor and lay down in the Silent Street alongside... the Kings of your age, if ever I live to order it done so. I... have the hands of a healer, but alas, I cannot cure your malady, nor my own, my forefather."
King Eärnur then sat knelt before Aragorn and placed his hand upon the other's brow the hand of the old King as cold as the crystal of a Palantír. The King looked into the eyes of his descendant and knew that in Elessar the fate of Gondor was secure and that it was his time to leave the confines of the circles of the world for the place that no man returned from.
"I bestow upon you the last power of my long life, with the hope that you shall return to the White Tower and continue the line of Elendil and Númenor," and with that Aragorn felt a heat fill his shoulder as Eärnur placed his palm against the wound and the pain left his bones as the King of old fell back to the floor, his eyes closed in death.
Aragorn lay there for a moment, in awe of what had passed, his breath heavy and his mind tired by lack of sleep. Then he leant forward, the last energy of the King's life filling him, and he folded Eärnur's arms across his chest as if he were lying in state rather than in the dark chamber of Minas Morgul. Aragorn fell back on his heels and put his fingers to his brow and then his lips in the signal of farewell. "Rest peacefully, king of Gondor," he whispered.
Then the door to the Chamber flew open and Beregond, the King's captain strode forth, his spear broken in two, yet his eyes still keen and his sword sharp and behind him was the corpse of Shelob and a great stench poured through the doors with enough potency to make Aragorn reel back onto his heels in his attempt to stand.
"King Elessar!" Beregond cried, coming forward with his face etched with concern as he saw the deathly look on the King's face. "You are injured."
Aragorn nodded as Beregond helped him to his feet. "I must ride back to Minas Estel immediately for the Queen is the only one West of Valinor who has the knowledge to heal my illness."
"She has set out from there bound for Osgiliath, though I am sure I can dispatch a rider to meet her and turn back before we arrive there," Beregond replied, letting the King rest on him heavily.
Aragorn nodded and put his fingers to his lips in a whistle. He then turned to glance at Eärnur, the white hair of the old king glistening in the dim light of the tower. "This is the body of King Eärnur of the Third Age. Please find men to bear him back to Minas Arnor where he is to be laid with his forefathers. And take also with you the Ithil-stone, which will be placed in Osgiliath in my chamber, though no one save me must ever look in it. Heed my words as these are objects of great power," Aragorn warned.
Beregond nodded, "As you wish."
"Sauron was rumoured to have captured the Ithil stone for his own devices, and for the palantír to have been buried in the unmaking of Barad-dur, so how it came here once more I cannot fathom. Of one thing I am sure, it must not be left without guard in this desolate place," said Aragorn, taking up his sword, Andúril, from the floor.
And behind them came the sound of hooves on cold stone as Hasufel, answering to his master's call, came to the door of the Chamber of the Moon with strides as swift as those of Shadowfax. Aragorn mounted the horse with difficulty and closed his eyes for a moment; the pain in his should coming forth as a relentless tide of enemy armies. "You have won in battle today, Beregond my Captain," Aragorn said.
"Yes, though men have been killed, we have driven the shadow back from the citadel," replied Beregond.
Aragorn nodded and started to set off through the Hall, "See to it they are buried with ceremony and that a guard is set up outside the walls of Minas Ithil until I pass judgement on what shall be done here."
"Yes, my Lord."
And there it was that Aragorn son of Arathorn, King Elessar of his realm, rode forth from the ruined lair of Shelob for the citadel of Minas Estel, Andúril at his side, its blade quenched in the last Shadows of Mordor.
***
"Elbereth!" Legolas swore as the wise woman of the Healing Houses placed a poultice on his wound, the searing pain of the herbs cutting through that of his injury. About him was the scent of herb infusions and maidens and healers tended to the sick as they lay on beds of feather mattresses in the large and airy chambers of the Healing Houses.
"The pain will subdue," the wise woman said, wrapping bandaging around the Elf's shoulder and side.
"Elves!" commented Faramir weakly as a Healer tended to his wound. "They cannot withstand the pain of even the smallest wound."
"You know you speak untruthfully, mortal, so I shall not take up my bow and slay you here and now for speaking ill of my kindred. Anyway, 'tis not my fault that I was attacked by one of Ungoliant's kin, though you merely brought that wound upon yourself by your own hand," the Elf bantered in good jest.
"Thy tongue and wit are sharp, as I have learned is my sword. Keen it is and terribly irksome when fallen on," Faramir replied with equal good humour. A maiden came forth and wiped the Prince of Ithilien's brow, "How long till the fair Lady of Minas Estel arrives here, my lady."
"The heralds say that she is not far from approaching the river, though the Queen has turned back to meet the King who is grievously wounded, say they, my lord" the maiden said, a sadness in her eyes for telling of the unwelcome tidings.
"And the Host, did they fare well?" asked Legolas, anxious for more news of Minas Morgul.
"That I do not know of, sir," said she, "though Gimli the Dwarf has arrived with the Periannath."
And at that moment the door opened to their chamber and in came Pippin and Gimli, and behind them were six men, each carrying a large weight.
"Why, 'tis Merry, Pippin and Glorfindel the Elf-Lord," Faramir exclaimed, though his body was racked with the pain of his injuries and it hurt him much to speak. "Have you met Lady Éowyn on your travels, my friends?"
"I heard tidings that she was halfway here from Aman Estel from a handmaiden," Pippin replied, "I am sure she will be with you shortly, my lord."
The Legolas fell silent as he beheld Gloríen, his brother being laid on a bed beside him. The wise woman helped the Elf to stand and approach the still image of himself, as they were both Princes of Mirkwood and looked as twins. Legolas gazed upon his brother, his face still serene and fair yet no breath issued from his still lips, and yet for his experience of war and death he could not comprehend his loss.
Pippin fell silent and looked upon Legolas with a great sadness. He stepped forward and touched the Elf's forearm gently.
Legolas could not tear his eyes from the prostrate form in front of him; still in death as in sleep. "He will never see the Land of the Valar," he breathed, his eyes pained and words strained from his grief and illness. "He has slipped from the Circles of the World never to return to the West, and for that I grieve most profoundly, Pippin."
And a tear rolled down the Hobbit's cheek at the Elf's words.
***
Night fell heavily that night on the Healing Houses of Osgiliath as Legolas the Elf mourned for his brother and in Arda Estel the Elves sang songs of loss and reflection so haunting and ethereal that to any ear apart from that of the Eldar it would be incomprehensible, as none save the First Born remembered Valinor and the pain of its loss when an immortal was slain, never to return there.
It was on this dark night that the stars shone with less light than the night before as Aragorn rode upon Hasufel along the river to Minas Estel, his body pierced by the pain of Daebeleg's final blow, and his heart only kept alive by the last strains of Eärnur's living breath and the Elven power of the Elfstone that shone in a verdant light on his breast.
"Noro lim," he urged his horse of the Rohirrim, for though Hasufel bore him at double the pace of a journey which required less haste, the speed was not great enough yet to reach Minas Estel before dawn. Upon Aragorn rested the darkness of the fear that a longer journey might take his life, as he had foreseen in the Palantír so many days ago.
Then it was that from his side there was the sound of a horse whinnying and a flash of brilliant white caught the side of his eye and it sounded as if a rider that had passed him doubled back to ride alongside the King.
"Estel!" came a cry from his right side and Aragorn's heart beat with renewed force for hearing his name upon the lips of his beloved.
Hasufel fell out of a gallop and came to a steady trot alongside Asfaloth whose bright mane shone in the light of the waning moon. The Queen rode on him in a mantle of sea blue, stars bound about her brow that seemed to outshine those of Varda.
"Arwen, mornie utúlië," Aragorn murmured as he took the hand she stretched out to him, his head filled with the darkness he told of. "I have failed thee and our people, for the last of the Nazgul, though defeated, hath struck me with a device of Sauron's forgery-"
"Be still, Aragorn, and explain not to me thy actions for I have heard the news and thou must be born swiftly back to Minas Estel for only there are the provisions I have for thy healing," said Arwen and she whistled bringing both horses to a halt. She dismounted and drew herbs from her saddlebag, coming to Aragorn's side to press them against the wound after he two came down from his stallion.
Aragorn carefully came down from his saddle, though he slipped as his feet touched the ground, his wife only narrowly catching his fall.
He looked into her eyes and saw a fear and sorrow in them that he had never seen before, "Of this fate I foresaw, Arwen," he whispered, "yet, I did not wish it to be, thy heart knowst."
"At Henneth Annun thou didst tell me of thy challenge, and it was bravely and justly accepted," Arwen replied, lifting his head with the tips of her fingers and laying her palm on his cheek. "Do not speak of regret, my heart."
Aragorn gazed upon her and held her hand tightly. "We must ride on before dawn."
The Queen nodded and helped him onto Asfaloth. "Hold on to me as we ride," Arwen said to her husband as she mounted the horse in front of him. "Asfaloth is as swift as Shadowfax and will grant us a calm ride to Arda Estel."
Aragorn whistled to Hasufel to follow and then they set out once more for Minas Estel, Arwen's hands on the reigns as Aragorn held her tightly about the waist whilst the dark night deepened and the pain in his shoulder worsened, though all the time he struggled to remain conscious.
***
With a dull thud the doors of Minas Ithil swung to, the vibrations of the noise sending loose masonry tumbling into the court yard where the Host of Osgiliath were mounted on their steeds in the early morning, their eyes searching out the last of the spiders that scuttled through the forests of Ephel Dúath to their dark abodes.
Beregond set a company of guards about the perimeter of the citadel to guard its walls until instruction from the King, and he himself bore the body of Eärnur to his horse whilst other soldiers carried out the dead and set them on the stone floor of the court yard with a guard about them, ready to be taken back to Osgiliath to be buried by the river Andean.
Two lieutenants of his army came forth; their arms weighed down by a large spherical object covered in thick cloth. "What shall be done with this," asked one of them of their captain.
"Place it in the King's Chamber at the city, but do not venture to peer into the glass, for these stones are not all accounted for and the King and Steward of Gondor are the only Men able to look into the palantirí without deadly effect," replied Beregond, looking at them intently and with warning.
The two lieutenants departed after their formal dismissal and Beregond took one of the slain soldier's horses, leading his own that bore King Eärnur of the Third Age.
"Onwards to Osgiliath!" called Beregond, and the Host left Minas Ithil, none of them to return there as living man.
***
The first rays of the sun were creeping over Emyn Arnen, spilling across the green lands of North Ithilien as Arwen and Aragorn approached the fair valley of Aman Estel, borne by Asfaloth.
As they rode onwards through the gap where the clear waters of the river ran from Harma Silma, the sound of singing and Elven music floated through the air to their ears.
"Hlasta!" Arwen breathed at the sound. "Estel, hear my kindred lament for the death of Gloríen, son of Thranduil. Such sadness I have never experienced amongst the Sindarin Elves, though they are a people of deep reflection and sorrow."
However, from behind her she heard no reply and she turn to see that Aragorn's head had fallen onto her shoulder and his eyes were closed, his breath shallow and yielding to the power of the morgul wound. Arwen felt a pang of desperation strike her heart and she urged Asfaloth to carry them to Minas Estel with greater speed.
As she rode through the valley amongst the trees, the morning light filtering softly through the tall mallorn trees, the Elves looked upon the King and Queen and their songs of woe and grief subsided.
In moments, though longer it seemed to the Queen in her grief, they arrived at the walls of the citadel and Arwen turned Asfaloth into the courtyard of Minas Estel where she was met by her handmaidens and the footmen of the palace.
"King Elessar must be taken into the Court of Trees," Arwen said, her breath laboured from her ride. "And bring me there hot water and the carved box of Lord Elrond, if you would."
Arwen let the footmen take Aragorn from where he rested limply behind her, his eyes clouded by the shadows that had penetrated his body. She dismounted and followed the men as they carried Aragorn through the courtyard, "Bandages as well, my ladies," she called behind her as she took her husband's cold hand.
"Caled veleg ethiannen," Arwen lamented to herself as she touched Aragorn's brow. "I reniad lín ne mór nuithannen."
Aragorn stirred for a moment and looked into Arwen's eyes. "Êl eria e môr... tiro, Undómiel."
"Estel," Arwen breathed in relief as he smiled weakly. "Estel!"
***
Faramir was lying in a chamber of his own in Osgiliath's Healing Houses under the eyes of a wise man when Lady Éowyn of Rohan came to his side, clad in a riding habit of dark green, her fair hair swept back under a mantle of crimson.
"My lady," Faramir whispered as she knelt at his side. "You have surely ridden through the night to be here. Pray, do not kneel, my love, there is a chair in the corner."
"My knees are not weary, my lord," she replied, her pale face flushed from the ride as she brushed stray locks of his fair from his brow. "Do not deny me what I have gone without sleep to reach."
"I will have no complaints for that request," replied Faramir, smiling through the pain of his wound. "Your fair presence speeds my recovery, Éowyn."
"And yours makes me forget my worry, Faramir, dearest," Éowyn replied as she took his hand and held it to her heart as the rays of dawn's first light strayed across Faramir's bed where he lay in peace for the first time since he ventured out from Minas Estel.
***
And so it was that King Elessar was laid out on the green grass of the Court of Trees, beneath the fine spray of Harma Silma and amongst the golden mallorn leaves of Lórien and the flowers of the elanor, their star shape like that of the Elendilmir that Aragorn wore on his cold brow. It was there that they rested on Cerin Amroth in their own realm, though the Elven enchantment lay about them less powerfully.
Arwen had pulled Aragorn's cloak and shirt from about him and had bathed the wound with hot water and Athelas. Aragorn's eyes had cleared, but he slipped to and from consciousness without warning. Arwen sat by his side preparing ointments and infusions for the wound, but as she touched the skin of his chest and his shoulder with her smooth hands as she applied her medicines, the deathly chill of his flesh stunned her into silent worry.
"Thy body is cold where it should be warm after my treatment," Arwen murmured, the coolness of his skin being of great contrast to the usual warmth of his flesh. "My father taught me well, though maybe I lack the wisdom to apply my knowledge to save my love. Aí, Elbereth!"
Arwen laid down beside Aragorn on the soft grass and Elanor, her body of no weight against the ground, and she took the Man she had bound herself to in her arms, stroking his hair from his brow as she let her tears flow freely down her cheeks, waiting for her medicine to take effect or the shadows to take Aragorn, for she knew a doom most heavy was placed upon him as he had told her at Henneth Annun, though she could not foresee the end of their history together.
"Without thee, I cannot stay inside the Circles of the World," she whispered as she placed gentle kisses on his brow. "Thou did say that thou rejected the darkness utterly, so turn now from the shadow, my love, and come back to the light of the stars. Renounce the twilight and the Halls of Mandros as I did, when we cleaved one to another. Estel, remember the light."
However, it was to be that her words could not reach his mind as his ears were sealed against her by the shadows.
***
When the Host re-entered Osgiliath in the twilight of the next day, they arrived to the joyous sounds of trumpets as the Heralds welcomed the victors of the Battle of the Shadow Breaking, and the maidens mourned the dead who were brought to the riverside.
Beregond then sent forth the body of Eärnur upon a funeral carriage and it was brought out of the city to Minas Arnor, followed by the Royal Guard who rode along solemnly, their eyes downcast in memory of the tragedies of the Third Age.
The captain of Osgiliath was to follow them, but first he brought the Palantír of Minas Ithil to King Elessar's throne room and placed it there on the low round base that had been placed there by order of the King in his foreknowledge of the Challenge he was to accept. There it sat facing East for the King to keep watch on Mordor if a palantír still existed in Barad-dur, and the Ithil-stone and the Master Osgiliath-stone sat side by side, their cases shrouding the stones from unwelcome eyes. But Beregond did not remove its covering, for he was not tempted to look into the crystal for fear of what other eyes may have been staring into the lost stones.
***
Arwen had lain with Aragorn beside the Harma Silma and amongst the elanor for nearly a day and twilight drew around them once more as if it were a heavy cloak. And the stars that day were dimmer than they had ever been in the Fourth Age of King Elessar, and Arwen wept with grief as she could feel her husband's body bending to the last will of Sauron. Her medicine had no sway over the shadows inside him, and Arwen knew she could only will her own heart to fight the onslaught of the darkness, and she rested in hope that their bond was enough for her strength to be his.
And it was that there, in the Court of Trees, Eldarion, their son and heir to the throne, came forth from the arms of his nurse who sat with him beside a great mallorn tree. And as Arwen looked upon their son's face and saw in there the strong line of Aragorn's face, she felt warm tears cascade over her cheeks and she took the child in her arms as she sat up beside his father.
"What is the matter, Eldarion?" she asked, taking the child's hands and seeing the look of worry in the eyes of her son.
Eldarion did not speak, only cried at the sight of the father he loved so dearly, unresponsive and shallow-breathed on the ground.
"Shhh," Arwen murmured to calm their child. She took him in her arms and rocked him gently against her breast, singing a calming song of old that her mother, Celebrian, once sang to her in distress. It was the tale of Lúthien and Beren the One-Handed, and how the mortal man had risen from the dead to be granted a lifetime with the one whom he was cleaved to. And as the Queen sang, hope grew in her heart, though the final breath of life left her husband's body, and Eldarion left her arms to come to his father's side.
A bright light seemed to come from the heir's skin as he placed two small hands on the brow of his father, and then, just as Aragorn breathed his last, Arwen flung herself across his chest in grief, for he was dead.
But then, there issued a moan from Elessar's lips and he opened his eyes fully and clearly, as the shadow had left him. And beneath her, Arwen could hear Aragorn's heart still, and then beat again with more strength than she had ever known.
"Arwen?" he whispered.
His wife sat up and placed her hand upon his cheek, and then the other upon his shoulder, and the flesh beneath her hands was warm and responsive. "Aragorn, we thought thou was lost to the world."
Aragorn took her hand and placed a kiss upon her palm, then looking up he saw his son and knew that he indeed had for a moment left the world for the Halls of Mandros, but had been granted his life again by the Eldar, and their presence in his son, who at his father's death had for a minute the power of healing.
Aragorn tried to be stern, but could not help smiling, "Eldarion, surely you should be in bed."
"Sorry, father," the boy replied, his eyes wet with tears. "But I wanted to see you before I went to sleep."
Arwen smiled through her tears and gathered their son in her arms, pressing her lips to the child's cheek. "And so you have, my dearest. It is good luck that you did come visit your father... tiro!" she pointed into the sky. "You have made the stars shine even more brightly than at their creation by Elbereth."
And she spoke truth, for the dark skies had been ridded of their shadowy blanket and a field of stars shone more brightly than diamonds on blue velvet and the moon seemed to wax rather than wane in the glory of Eldarion's healing of his father.
***
After a week of recuperation and rest at Minas Estel, Aragorn withdrew from the Land of Ithilien in the North and journeyed with Arwen and Eldarion to Osgiliath. Though the wound he had suffered would pain him until he left the world, he cared not for regret and self-pity, and Elessar was glad for his doom had passed and his challenge had been met for the benefit of his people.
At Osgiliath, Aragorn visited his friends in the Healing Houses, his son in his arms and his wife by his side.
"My, if it isn't King Elessar!" Merry cried as the Royal family came into his chamber.
Aragorn gave him a cautionary look. "Merry!"
Merry smiled broadly, "I was only joking with you, Aragorn! My, it is wonderful to see you again."
"And I could say the same," replied the King, coming over to the Hobbit's bed.
"We were sure you were lost when news came from Aman Estel that it had been a day since your illness had struck and you still had not recovered," Merry said solemnly. "It reminded us a bit too much of poor Frodo and Elrond at Rivendell… not that Rivendell is not beautiful, my Lady," Merry said quickly to Arwen.
Arwen smiled in comprehension. "You are well rested, Master Merry. I hope that Master Pippin has not disturbed you too much."
"Actually," Merry laughed, "he has been a real bother, hanging around me like a bee around honey."
"Where is he now?" asked Aragorn, a glimmer of laughter in his eyes. "Making mischief in the barracks, I dare say."
The smile on Merry's face dropped and he shook his head. "No that he has not. He has been with Legolas today as the remaining Elves of his family came the other day and are now preparing the funeral boat for Gloríen."
Aragorn nodded slowly, "I did hear of that on my ride from Minas Estel. We shall attend the funeral this evening before riding to Minas Anor tomorrow for the interment of King Eärnur."
Merry's eyes widened. "Yes, I did hear of that. How queer that he should have lived so long!"
"The powers of Sauron's devices have been great, Merry," Aragorn said, a pain in his eyes as he spoke. "It may still be many ages before his influence wholly leaves Middle-earth. We must be still on our guard."
"Are you saying that what happened at Minas Morgul… I mean, Minas Ithil," Merry corrected himself, remembering that it was not permitted to use its changed name, "may happen again?"
With a deep sigh Aragorn paused to think, then finally he said: "The palantirí show me of events that may or may not come to pass, and though we must take heed of forewarnings, we cannot live in fear of Sauron's residual power. The Ring has been destroyed, yet what effect He still has on controlling what we see in Stones cannot be measured. Caution, my friend, caution is all I can advise, and all that I can rule by."
***
Faramir, the Prince of Ithilien, was reunited with the King that evening at the side of the river Anduin as the songs of the Elves of Mirkwood floated through the still air. The funeral boat of Gloríen, son of Thranduil, was carved most ornately with designs of mallorn leaves and vines.
Upon Gloríen's body lay his shiver of arrows and his father's bow, which had been left to the eldest son of Thranduil on the passing of the King into the West, placed there by Legolas whose face was set in deep sorrow and loss. As the funeral boat was released into the current of the Anduin as it lay shining as silver under the waning moon, the songs of the Elves sang once again their lament for the passing of their brother, and Legolas stood motionless on the bank of the Great River till all others had departed save Arwen and Aragorn who stayed on as the Sun rose above them once more, her beams lightly caressing their faces as the light of Teleperion.
It was early morning and dew hung upon the blades of grass of the Pelennor fields when Arwen took Legolas' hand to lead him back to the city. However, Legolas refused his kindred's hand and turned to the King and Queen, his eyes wide with realisation of his brother's death.
"I must rest alone for a while," Legolas breathed, the sea air that blew in from the coast down stream filling his mind with thoughts of the West. "I shall journey North again to Lórien and then to Lasgalen, my home. Though none of our race dwell there, Lady Arwen, I feel a need to wander amongst trees once more to collect my thoughts."
Arwen placed her hand against Legolas' cheek and looked into his eyes, "That desire thou may indulge, but be wary, my friend, for though thou may be immortal, grief is a sickness that could kill even the most hardy of our people."
Legolas took her hand from his face and placed a kiss upon it and then he took Aragorn's hand in his before looking deep into their eyes. "Then perhaps I may too slip from the confines of this world to meet again my dear brother, as you both will do so in the passing of time. That is your choice, and it may soon be mine."
And so it was that Legolas of Lasgalen left Osgiliath for the last time, riding upon Arod across the River and North to the Golden Woods of Lothlórien, splendid still, even in their twilight.
***
The evening after Legolas' departure, Gimli left Osgiliath to visit his family in the Mountains and to bring tidings to Glóin, his father. He travelled on foot and was given by the Elves a store of lembas of great quantity in case of an emergency, and the Lady Arwen had woven a cloak for him of the warmest fabric of the Elves, for he would be travelling through snowy passes. Then he bid a farewell to his friends and left with a heavy heart, his mind worried by Legolas' fell mood.
After Gimli had set out from the city of Osgiliath, the Hobbits prepared to leave for Minas Anor before embarking on their voyage back to the Shire through the Gap of Rohan. King Elessar bid
farewell there until the next week to Prince Faramir and the Lady Éowyn who were to ride to Minas Estel and tend to affairs in the Northern Land of Ithilien, and the Hobbits said their goodbyes to their dear friends, inviting the Prince and Princess to stay with them in the Shire if they were ever to journey to the Land of Arnor in the Northern Realm, an invitation which was gladly received by the couple.
Early the next morning as the first rays of the new sun lit the tops of the city's turrets, the Royal Guard set forth for Minas Anor, with King Elessar riding alongside Queen Arwen and Prince Eldarion of Gondor, and at the front of the guard rode Merry and Pippin who had grown to such heights by the replenishing draughts of the Ents that they could ride alone on ponies.
By the afternoon they had reached the White Tower of Minas Anor and there the King and Queen changed into vestments befitting a Gondorian funeral, and clad in black they walked in the funereal procession to the Silent Streets, and upon the King's brow the Elendilmir of the Dúnedain shone brightly in the twilight hours.
In the Houses of the Dead, the sarcophagus of King Eärnur was sealed after Aragorn had placed in the casket crown and sword, the stone lid of the coffin fixed in place by the guard of the city, headed by Pippin, who too was dressed formally, his black tabard embroidered with the White Tree and the Seven Stars shining brightly above it.
Before they left the tomb at the closing of the ceremony, Aragorn stepped forth and knelt beside the stone sarcophagus, and he vowed so that no one else save the Queen could hear that he would keep watch over his Realm and never become complacent, as had the Kings of Gondor in the Third Age.
Then it was that the House of the Dead was closed once all who still lived had left it, and King Eärnur rested next to his forefather Eärnil until the earth was once more reshaped by the powers of the Aulë and the Valar.
***
It was a fortnight later and the new moon was waxing to its fullest when dawn came to take place of the night, and so came also the day that Merry and Pippin were to leave Gondor for the Gap of Rohan. Previsions of food, clothing and pony-fodder were arranged for the Hobbits, and they enjoyed a long, luxurious bath that warmed their bones before they sat down to a hearty banquet in the great banqueting hall of the palace. Once they had fully satisfied their considerable appetite, they gathered together their possessions and entered the Courtyard of the White Tree where Aragorn and Arwen sat beneath the ever-flowering blossoms of that splendid tree, playing with Eldarion who happily chased the petals that floated in the soft breeze.
"So… we will set off now," Merry started, dropping his pack to the ground. "Unless, that is, we are needed to assist you in any way."
"Though we would be both glad for you to linger longer with us in Gondor, we know that your hearts long to see the Shire once more," Aragorn smiled, standing to say farewell.
"That is true," Pippin admitted with a sigh. "It is beautiful here in the South, but everything is on such a grand scale… it makes me feel decidedly small, even for a very tall Hobbit."
Aragorn chuckled. "Then next time we must come visit you, and after we can travel to the Land of Arnor where the city of Annúminas is being rebuilt by Lake Evendim. There the landscape is less 'imposing', you might say, though it is yet beautiful and awe-inspiring, and I often yearn to wander there in the North Lands as I did for so long as a Ranger."
"Well, then, you must come soon!" Merry laughed, "And you shall come as Strider and come with us to the Prancing Pony and smoke the best of the Shire's weed, and it shall be as old times… that is, if the Lady does not object."
"That I do not," Arwen laughed, "for though Elves detest the leaf my husband is so fond of, I would often like to learn more of your people, for Hobbits seem such a valiant and surprising folk for those who have been so little heard of throughout the years."
Pippin smiled and reached out to kiss the Queen's hand, "Well, that is settled then. Just remember to warn us before you come so we can give you the best welcoming party ever thrown in the Shire, for you are very dear to us."
"Dearer still are you to us," Aragorn said seriously. "And if you do at anytime feel your wound to trouble you, Merry, do not hesitate to send word."
Merry nodded, and a tear came to his eye. "We shall miss you," he said at last.
And then Aragorn and Arwen embraced the Hobbits and bid them farewell, as did Eldarion, and then Merry and Pippin picked up their packs and headed through the gates where their ponies awaited them for the journey home.
So it was that Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took departed from Minas Anor, the sun shining upon them as the Land of Gondor glittered in the golden light, and they turned back once more to catch a glimpse of the White Tree where King Elessar and Queen Undómiel stood, their hands raised in a gesture of farewell and their son Eldarion at their feet, and it seemed to the Hobbits that they possessed the ethereal light and dignity of the Elves and the nobility of Men at once, and the sun shone brightly upon them for they were bound in life and death, and their blood was mingled in Eldarion in a final Alliance of Men and Elves east of Valinor.
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The End
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So it is complete, so now tell me how you enjoyed it! I wanted to create a real 'tale' in the same vein as Tolkien, so tell me if you think I've been successful, or not. Please, all criticism is helpful.
Via ff.net
Or annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk
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Notes on Elvish:
[thanks to the LotR lyrics for translations I've plagiarised]
Mae govannen i Minas Morgul = Welcome to Minas Morgul (Sindarin)
Arwen, mornie utúlië = Arwen, darkness has come (High-elven/Quenya)
Hlasta! = Listen!
Tiro! = Look!
Caled veleg ethiannen = A great light has extinguisted (Sindarin)
I reniad lín ne mór nuithannen = Your journey has ended in the darkness
Êl eria e môr... tiro, Undómiel = A star rises out of the darkness, look Evenstar
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Chapter Nine: 'The Flight to Minas Estel'
Author: Anna Rousseau
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings
Genre: Adventure/Drama
Rating: PG
Set: 1426 SR - six years after the fall of Sauron
Summary: The Shadow has passed, but great and terrible things existed before the Dark Lord, and now they outlive him even in the New Age of King Elessar. This chapter tells of the darkest hours of the New Age when King Elessar is close to untimely death after his slaying of Daebeleg and his friends Faramir, Merry and Legolas are stricken by Shelob's poison. Concluding chapter.
Notes on Lore: It might be useful to reacquaint yourselves with the Appendices relating to the line of Númenor in order to fully understand this story, though it is by no means vital to enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to dear old Professor Tolkien. Though I have slightly adapted the lore of the great Prof. in order to serve my story.
Middle-earth Disclaimer: The story is set after Book Six: The End of the Third Age. It complies with the history of Middle-earth, as is accurate with dates and places and events and so forth, though the adventure told in this story was never chronicled in the Red Book nor other books of lore of Gondor.
A/N: After starting this story in February, it is finally at a close and I have finished the Silmarillion - double hurrah. I just hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I relished writing this tale. I hope the angst and h/c fulfils some of your wishes!
CHAPTER X - 'THE FLIGHT TO MINAS ESTEL'
======================================
When the Host of Osgiliath reached the summit of the Great Stair they beheld the Hall of the Moon not as a place of great splendour as it had been constructed in the days of Elendil, but as a place of unknown terror as the great webs of Shelob's kin seemed to catch even the dark shadows with their thick silk. And as the company advanced, the heralds calling forth the enemy to a challenge, thousands of dark forms crept from their hammocks, their potent stench being more vile than the foulest decaying corpse.
And there it was that Beregond lifted forth his spear as had Gil-galad in days of old and thousands of Elven swords were raised by the men of Gondor. They charged forth and the cry of 'Elessar' could be heard throughout the dark citadel as Elven blade met with shadowed flesh and the Men fought with valour equal to that of the Dúnedain on that day of which so many tales were told in Middle-earth and in Valinor for the history of Estel Elessar and Arwen Undómiel was one the Eldar held as close to their hearts as that of Lúthien Tinúviel and Beren Erchamion.
In that hall many of the great spiders of Melkor's creation were slain by the terrible might of Gondor, though Men also fell amongst the injured and the day was remembered as 'Daerist' the Shadow Breaking, an event remembered with profound melancholy.
And it was upon that day that Beregond, Captain of Osgiliath and leader of that terrible host, slew Shelob of Ungoliant's descent, his elven blade being Orcrist of Thorin given to King Elessar by the Dwarves on his coronation to mark renewed friendship between the two races. And Orcrist glittered as mithril as it cleaved through the limbs and hard skin of Shelob, and it made a fearsome sound as Beregond wielded the weapon of Gondolin. With a final blow Beregond thrust the sword into Shelob's heart from where he stood under her great body and a shrill shriek filled the Hall as she collapsed on top of him, Beregond only just escaping the crushing pressure of her carcass. Then it was said that the spiders gave up struggle as their mother was slain and many of their kin were dead at the hands of the might of Gondor, and the creatures fled from Minas Ithil seeking the dark caverns of Ephel Duath and Cirith Ungol, their dark shadows never to be seen again in the realm of King Elessar.
***
The dying cry of Shelob was so fell it roused even Aragorn from his deathly slumber and his eyes opened to see a faint figure in front of him. The King tried to pull himself to his feet, but the effort was too great and he fell back against the plinth on which stood the palantír of Minas Ithil, his head ringing with a terrible pain.
"Mae govannen i Minas Morgul," said the figure and as Aragorn's eyes became more focused he beheld a tall Man, though his back was bent and his hair grey and his skin showing the creases of the final days of life. Even as Aragorn looked at the Man he seemed to age, his hair becoming white and his bones weakening before his body.
"'Tis not Minas Morgul, my liege. This is Minas Ithil of Gondor and Arnor and I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, King Elessar they call me." And Aragorn swallowed and closed his eyes for the effort of speech was as much as was needed to drain him of the last of his energy.
"Well so be it," replied the Man in Common Speech. "Though many years have passed if Gondor has given up on its King, and of Aragorn son of Arathorn I do not know if he be of Númenorean descent."
Aragorn frowned, thinking that the apparition was no more than an imagining of his poisoned mind, "Gondor having given up on its King? What do you mean by these words?"
The Man raised his head and a regal light seemed to shine dimly about his head as a coronet. "I am named King Eärnur, King of Gondor and heir of Elendil born of the Númenorean kings in the line of Beren and Lúthien. I came to challenge the Lord of the Kings of Angmar and have been imprisoned in these walls for how many years I do not know."
"King Eärnur," Aragorn breathed at the name of legend and he felt his mind become weary again. "Yet, you came to face your challenge in the year 2050 of the Third... Age, and it is now the Fourth Age and hundreds... of years have... passed."
"Hundreds of years?" Eärnur replied, and to Aragorn it seemed as if some spark of hope in his eyes vanished. "Yet, I am still alive and the Kings of Númenor may live many years more than those of Middle-earth, though I feel I am existing past my time. Tell me, what has passed since my reign."
So it was that Eärnur had been preserved in the bloom of youth for many a century by the evil of the lesser rings of the Fallen Kings in their abode of Minas Estel. But now their terrible power had diminished with the slaying of Daebeleg and the defeat of the residual evil of Sauron. And now the King was to fade with them as only a memory of a distant age.
Aragorn gritted his teeth as a new wave of pain swept through his bones, his breathing laboured and speech broken. "That I cannot... explain at this time as it is a long... and grim tale, yet now the evil of Mordor has been... defeated... as has the Ring... of Power which governed the rings of the Nazgul."
"Then my time has passed," said Eärnur, the weight of his doom resting finally upon him. "I shall lay down here to rest in the place that was both my palace and my prison, and I shall let my final breath escape my mouth."
Aragorn shook his head, biting back the pangs of his pain. "No, you shall return... to Minas Anor and lay down in the Silent Street alongside... the Kings of your age, if ever I live to order it done so. I... have the hands of a healer, but alas, I cannot cure your malady, nor my own, my forefather."
King Eärnur then sat knelt before Aragorn and placed his hand upon the other's brow the hand of the old King as cold as the crystal of a Palantír. The King looked into the eyes of his descendant and knew that in Elessar the fate of Gondor was secure and that it was his time to leave the confines of the circles of the world for the place that no man returned from.
"I bestow upon you the last power of my long life, with the hope that you shall return to the White Tower and continue the line of Elendil and Númenor," and with that Aragorn felt a heat fill his shoulder as Eärnur placed his palm against the wound and the pain left his bones as the King of old fell back to the floor, his eyes closed in death.
Aragorn lay there for a moment, in awe of what had passed, his breath heavy and his mind tired by lack of sleep. Then he leant forward, the last energy of the King's life filling him, and he folded Eärnur's arms across his chest as if he were lying in state rather than in the dark chamber of Minas Morgul. Aragorn fell back on his heels and put his fingers to his brow and then his lips in the signal of farewell. "Rest peacefully, king of Gondor," he whispered.
Then the door to the Chamber flew open and Beregond, the King's captain strode forth, his spear broken in two, yet his eyes still keen and his sword sharp and behind him was the corpse of Shelob and a great stench poured through the doors with enough potency to make Aragorn reel back onto his heels in his attempt to stand.
"King Elessar!" Beregond cried, coming forward with his face etched with concern as he saw the deathly look on the King's face. "You are injured."
Aragorn nodded as Beregond helped him to his feet. "I must ride back to Minas Estel immediately for the Queen is the only one West of Valinor who has the knowledge to heal my illness."
"She has set out from there bound for Osgiliath, though I am sure I can dispatch a rider to meet her and turn back before we arrive there," Beregond replied, letting the King rest on him heavily.
Aragorn nodded and put his fingers to his lips in a whistle. He then turned to glance at Eärnur, the white hair of the old king glistening in the dim light of the tower. "This is the body of King Eärnur of the Third Age. Please find men to bear him back to Minas Arnor where he is to be laid with his forefathers. And take also with you the Ithil-stone, which will be placed in Osgiliath in my chamber, though no one save me must ever look in it. Heed my words as these are objects of great power," Aragorn warned.
Beregond nodded, "As you wish."
"Sauron was rumoured to have captured the Ithil stone for his own devices, and for the palantír to have been buried in the unmaking of Barad-dur, so how it came here once more I cannot fathom. Of one thing I am sure, it must not be left without guard in this desolate place," said Aragorn, taking up his sword, Andúril, from the floor.
And behind them came the sound of hooves on cold stone as Hasufel, answering to his master's call, came to the door of the Chamber of the Moon with strides as swift as those of Shadowfax. Aragorn mounted the horse with difficulty and closed his eyes for a moment; the pain in his should coming forth as a relentless tide of enemy armies. "You have won in battle today, Beregond my Captain," Aragorn said.
"Yes, though men have been killed, we have driven the shadow back from the citadel," replied Beregond.
Aragorn nodded and started to set off through the Hall, "See to it they are buried with ceremony and that a guard is set up outside the walls of Minas Ithil until I pass judgement on what shall be done here."
"Yes, my Lord."
And there it was that Aragorn son of Arathorn, King Elessar of his realm, rode forth from the ruined lair of Shelob for the citadel of Minas Estel, Andúril at his side, its blade quenched in the last Shadows of Mordor.
***
"Elbereth!" Legolas swore as the wise woman of the Healing Houses placed a poultice on his wound, the searing pain of the herbs cutting through that of his injury. About him was the scent of herb infusions and maidens and healers tended to the sick as they lay on beds of feather mattresses in the large and airy chambers of the Healing Houses.
"The pain will subdue," the wise woman said, wrapping bandaging around the Elf's shoulder and side.
"Elves!" commented Faramir weakly as a Healer tended to his wound. "They cannot withstand the pain of even the smallest wound."
"You know you speak untruthfully, mortal, so I shall not take up my bow and slay you here and now for speaking ill of my kindred. Anyway, 'tis not my fault that I was attacked by one of Ungoliant's kin, though you merely brought that wound upon yourself by your own hand," the Elf bantered in good jest.
"Thy tongue and wit are sharp, as I have learned is my sword. Keen it is and terribly irksome when fallen on," Faramir replied with equal good humour. A maiden came forth and wiped the Prince of Ithilien's brow, "How long till the fair Lady of Minas Estel arrives here, my lady."
"The heralds say that she is not far from approaching the river, though the Queen has turned back to meet the King who is grievously wounded, say they, my lord" the maiden said, a sadness in her eyes for telling of the unwelcome tidings.
"And the Host, did they fare well?" asked Legolas, anxious for more news of Minas Morgul.
"That I do not know of, sir," said she, "though Gimli the Dwarf has arrived with the Periannath."
And at that moment the door opened to their chamber and in came Pippin and Gimli, and behind them were six men, each carrying a large weight.
"Why, 'tis Merry, Pippin and Glorfindel the Elf-Lord," Faramir exclaimed, though his body was racked with the pain of his injuries and it hurt him much to speak. "Have you met Lady Éowyn on your travels, my friends?"
"I heard tidings that she was halfway here from Aman Estel from a handmaiden," Pippin replied, "I am sure she will be with you shortly, my lord."
The Legolas fell silent as he beheld Gloríen, his brother being laid on a bed beside him. The wise woman helped the Elf to stand and approach the still image of himself, as they were both Princes of Mirkwood and looked as twins. Legolas gazed upon his brother, his face still serene and fair yet no breath issued from his still lips, and yet for his experience of war and death he could not comprehend his loss.
Pippin fell silent and looked upon Legolas with a great sadness. He stepped forward and touched the Elf's forearm gently.
Legolas could not tear his eyes from the prostrate form in front of him; still in death as in sleep. "He will never see the Land of the Valar," he breathed, his eyes pained and words strained from his grief and illness. "He has slipped from the Circles of the World never to return to the West, and for that I grieve most profoundly, Pippin."
And a tear rolled down the Hobbit's cheek at the Elf's words.
***
Night fell heavily that night on the Healing Houses of Osgiliath as Legolas the Elf mourned for his brother and in Arda Estel the Elves sang songs of loss and reflection so haunting and ethereal that to any ear apart from that of the Eldar it would be incomprehensible, as none save the First Born remembered Valinor and the pain of its loss when an immortal was slain, never to return there.
It was on this dark night that the stars shone with less light than the night before as Aragorn rode upon Hasufel along the river to Minas Estel, his body pierced by the pain of Daebeleg's final blow, and his heart only kept alive by the last strains of Eärnur's living breath and the Elven power of the Elfstone that shone in a verdant light on his breast.
"Noro lim," he urged his horse of the Rohirrim, for though Hasufel bore him at double the pace of a journey which required less haste, the speed was not great enough yet to reach Minas Estel before dawn. Upon Aragorn rested the darkness of the fear that a longer journey might take his life, as he had foreseen in the Palantír so many days ago.
Then it was that from his side there was the sound of a horse whinnying and a flash of brilliant white caught the side of his eye and it sounded as if a rider that had passed him doubled back to ride alongside the King.
"Estel!" came a cry from his right side and Aragorn's heart beat with renewed force for hearing his name upon the lips of his beloved.
Hasufel fell out of a gallop and came to a steady trot alongside Asfaloth whose bright mane shone in the light of the waning moon. The Queen rode on him in a mantle of sea blue, stars bound about her brow that seemed to outshine those of Varda.
"Arwen, mornie utúlië," Aragorn murmured as he took the hand she stretched out to him, his head filled with the darkness he told of. "I have failed thee and our people, for the last of the Nazgul, though defeated, hath struck me with a device of Sauron's forgery-"
"Be still, Aragorn, and explain not to me thy actions for I have heard the news and thou must be born swiftly back to Minas Estel for only there are the provisions I have for thy healing," said Arwen and she whistled bringing both horses to a halt. She dismounted and drew herbs from her saddlebag, coming to Aragorn's side to press them against the wound after he two came down from his stallion.
Aragorn carefully came down from his saddle, though he slipped as his feet touched the ground, his wife only narrowly catching his fall.
He looked into her eyes and saw a fear and sorrow in them that he had never seen before, "Of this fate I foresaw, Arwen," he whispered, "yet, I did not wish it to be, thy heart knowst."
"At Henneth Annun thou didst tell me of thy challenge, and it was bravely and justly accepted," Arwen replied, lifting his head with the tips of her fingers and laying her palm on his cheek. "Do not speak of regret, my heart."
Aragorn gazed upon her and held her hand tightly. "We must ride on before dawn."
The Queen nodded and helped him onto Asfaloth. "Hold on to me as we ride," Arwen said to her husband as she mounted the horse in front of him. "Asfaloth is as swift as Shadowfax and will grant us a calm ride to Arda Estel."
Aragorn whistled to Hasufel to follow and then they set out once more for Minas Estel, Arwen's hands on the reigns as Aragorn held her tightly about the waist whilst the dark night deepened and the pain in his shoulder worsened, though all the time he struggled to remain conscious.
***
With a dull thud the doors of Minas Ithil swung to, the vibrations of the noise sending loose masonry tumbling into the court yard where the Host of Osgiliath were mounted on their steeds in the early morning, their eyes searching out the last of the spiders that scuttled through the forests of Ephel Dúath to their dark abodes.
Beregond set a company of guards about the perimeter of the citadel to guard its walls until instruction from the King, and he himself bore the body of Eärnur to his horse whilst other soldiers carried out the dead and set them on the stone floor of the court yard with a guard about them, ready to be taken back to Osgiliath to be buried by the river Andean.
Two lieutenants of his army came forth; their arms weighed down by a large spherical object covered in thick cloth. "What shall be done with this," asked one of them of their captain.
"Place it in the King's Chamber at the city, but do not venture to peer into the glass, for these stones are not all accounted for and the King and Steward of Gondor are the only Men able to look into the palantirí without deadly effect," replied Beregond, looking at them intently and with warning.
The two lieutenants departed after their formal dismissal and Beregond took one of the slain soldier's horses, leading his own that bore King Eärnur of the Third Age.
"Onwards to Osgiliath!" called Beregond, and the Host left Minas Ithil, none of them to return there as living man.
***
The first rays of the sun were creeping over Emyn Arnen, spilling across the green lands of North Ithilien as Arwen and Aragorn approached the fair valley of Aman Estel, borne by Asfaloth.
As they rode onwards through the gap where the clear waters of the river ran from Harma Silma, the sound of singing and Elven music floated through the air to their ears.
"Hlasta!" Arwen breathed at the sound. "Estel, hear my kindred lament for the death of Gloríen, son of Thranduil. Such sadness I have never experienced amongst the Sindarin Elves, though they are a people of deep reflection and sorrow."
However, from behind her she heard no reply and she turn to see that Aragorn's head had fallen onto her shoulder and his eyes were closed, his breath shallow and yielding to the power of the morgul wound. Arwen felt a pang of desperation strike her heart and she urged Asfaloth to carry them to Minas Estel with greater speed.
As she rode through the valley amongst the trees, the morning light filtering softly through the tall mallorn trees, the Elves looked upon the King and Queen and their songs of woe and grief subsided.
In moments, though longer it seemed to the Queen in her grief, they arrived at the walls of the citadel and Arwen turned Asfaloth into the courtyard of Minas Estel where she was met by her handmaidens and the footmen of the palace.
"King Elessar must be taken into the Court of Trees," Arwen said, her breath laboured from her ride. "And bring me there hot water and the carved box of Lord Elrond, if you would."
Arwen let the footmen take Aragorn from where he rested limply behind her, his eyes clouded by the shadows that had penetrated his body. She dismounted and followed the men as they carried Aragorn through the courtyard, "Bandages as well, my ladies," she called behind her as she took her husband's cold hand.
"Caled veleg ethiannen," Arwen lamented to herself as she touched Aragorn's brow. "I reniad lín ne mór nuithannen."
Aragorn stirred for a moment and looked into Arwen's eyes. "Êl eria e môr... tiro, Undómiel."
"Estel," Arwen breathed in relief as he smiled weakly. "Estel!"
***
Faramir was lying in a chamber of his own in Osgiliath's Healing Houses under the eyes of a wise man when Lady Éowyn of Rohan came to his side, clad in a riding habit of dark green, her fair hair swept back under a mantle of crimson.
"My lady," Faramir whispered as she knelt at his side. "You have surely ridden through the night to be here. Pray, do not kneel, my love, there is a chair in the corner."
"My knees are not weary, my lord," she replied, her pale face flushed from the ride as she brushed stray locks of his fair from his brow. "Do not deny me what I have gone without sleep to reach."
"I will have no complaints for that request," replied Faramir, smiling through the pain of his wound. "Your fair presence speeds my recovery, Éowyn."
"And yours makes me forget my worry, Faramir, dearest," Éowyn replied as she took his hand and held it to her heart as the rays of dawn's first light strayed across Faramir's bed where he lay in peace for the first time since he ventured out from Minas Estel.
***
And so it was that King Elessar was laid out on the green grass of the Court of Trees, beneath the fine spray of Harma Silma and amongst the golden mallorn leaves of Lórien and the flowers of the elanor, their star shape like that of the Elendilmir that Aragorn wore on his cold brow. It was there that they rested on Cerin Amroth in their own realm, though the Elven enchantment lay about them less powerfully.
Arwen had pulled Aragorn's cloak and shirt from about him and had bathed the wound with hot water and Athelas. Aragorn's eyes had cleared, but he slipped to and from consciousness without warning. Arwen sat by his side preparing ointments and infusions for the wound, but as she touched the skin of his chest and his shoulder with her smooth hands as she applied her medicines, the deathly chill of his flesh stunned her into silent worry.
"Thy body is cold where it should be warm after my treatment," Arwen murmured, the coolness of his skin being of great contrast to the usual warmth of his flesh. "My father taught me well, though maybe I lack the wisdom to apply my knowledge to save my love. Aí, Elbereth!"
Arwen laid down beside Aragorn on the soft grass and Elanor, her body of no weight against the ground, and she took the Man she had bound herself to in her arms, stroking his hair from his brow as she let her tears flow freely down her cheeks, waiting for her medicine to take effect or the shadows to take Aragorn, for she knew a doom most heavy was placed upon him as he had told her at Henneth Annun, though she could not foresee the end of their history together.
"Without thee, I cannot stay inside the Circles of the World," she whispered as she placed gentle kisses on his brow. "Thou did say that thou rejected the darkness utterly, so turn now from the shadow, my love, and come back to the light of the stars. Renounce the twilight and the Halls of Mandros as I did, when we cleaved one to another. Estel, remember the light."
However, it was to be that her words could not reach his mind as his ears were sealed against her by the shadows.
***
When the Host re-entered Osgiliath in the twilight of the next day, they arrived to the joyous sounds of trumpets as the Heralds welcomed the victors of the Battle of the Shadow Breaking, and the maidens mourned the dead who were brought to the riverside.
Beregond then sent forth the body of Eärnur upon a funeral carriage and it was brought out of the city to Minas Arnor, followed by the Royal Guard who rode along solemnly, their eyes downcast in memory of the tragedies of the Third Age.
The captain of Osgiliath was to follow them, but first he brought the Palantír of Minas Ithil to King Elessar's throne room and placed it there on the low round base that had been placed there by order of the King in his foreknowledge of the Challenge he was to accept. There it sat facing East for the King to keep watch on Mordor if a palantír still existed in Barad-dur, and the Ithil-stone and the Master Osgiliath-stone sat side by side, their cases shrouding the stones from unwelcome eyes. But Beregond did not remove its covering, for he was not tempted to look into the crystal for fear of what other eyes may have been staring into the lost stones.
***
Arwen had lain with Aragorn beside the Harma Silma and amongst the elanor for nearly a day and twilight drew around them once more as if it were a heavy cloak. And the stars that day were dimmer than they had ever been in the Fourth Age of King Elessar, and Arwen wept with grief as she could feel her husband's body bending to the last will of Sauron. Her medicine had no sway over the shadows inside him, and Arwen knew she could only will her own heart to fight the onslaught of the darkness, and she rested in hope that their bond was enough for her strength to be his.
And it was that there, in the Court of Trees, Eldarion, their son and heir to the throne, came forth from the arms of his nurse who sat with him beside a great mallorn tree. And as Arwen looked upon their son's face and saw in there the strong line of Aragorn's face, she felt warm tears cascade over her cheeks and she took the child in her arms as she sat up beside his father.
"What is the matter, Eldarion?" she asked, taking the child's hands and seeing the look of worry in the eyes of her son.
Eldarion did not speak, only cried at the sight of the father he loved so dearly, unresponsive and shallow-breathed on the ground.
"Shhh," Arwen murmured to calm their child. She took him in her arms and rocked him gently against her breast, singing a calming song of old that her mother, Celebrian, once sang to her in distress. It was the tale of Lúthien and Beren the One-Handed, and how the mortal man had risen from the dead to be granted a lifetime with the one whom he was cleaved to. And as the Queen sang, hope grew in her heart, though the final breath of life left her husband's body, and Eldarion left her arms to come to his father's side.
A bright light seemed to come from the heir's skin as he placed two small hands on the brow of his father, and then, just as Aragorn breathed his last, Arwen flung herself across his chest in grief, for he was dead.
But then, there issued a moan from Elessar's lips and he opened his eyes fully and clearly, as the shadow had left him. And beneath her, Arwen could hear Aragorn's heart still, and then beat again with more strength than she had ever known.
"Arwen?" he whispered.
His wife sat up and placed her hand upon his cheek, and then the other upon his shoulder, and the flesh beneath her hands was warm and responsive. "Aragorn, we thought thou was lost to the world."
Aragorn took her hand and placed a kiss upon her palm, then looking up he saw his son and knew that he indeed had for a moment left the world for the Halls of Mandros, but had been granted his life again by the Eldar, and their presence in his son, who at his father's death had for a minute the power of healing.
Aragorn tried to be stern, but could not help smiling, "Eldarion, surely you should be in bed."
"Sorry, father," the boy replied, his eyes wet with tears. "But I wanted to see you before I went to sleep."
Arwen smiled through her tears and gathered their son in her arms, pressing her lips to the child's cheek. "And so you have, my dearest. It is good luck that you did come visit your father... tiro!" she pointed into the sky. "You have made the stars shine even more brightly than at their creation by Elbereth."
And she spoke truth, for the dark skies had been ridded of their shadowy blanket and a field of stars shone more brightly than diamonds on blue velvet and the moon seemed to wax rather than wane in the glory of Eldarion's healing of his father.
***
After a week of recuperation and rest at Minas Estel, Aragorn withdrew from the Land of Ithilien in the North and journeyed with Arwen and Eldarion to Osgiliath. Though the wound he had suffered would pain him until he left the world, he cared not for regret and self-pity, and Elessar was glad for his doom had passed and his challenge had been met for the benefit of his people.
At Osgiliath, Aragorn visited his friends in the Healing Houses, his son in his arms and his wife by his side.
"My, if it isn't King Elessar!" Merry cried as the Royal family came into his chamber.
Aragorn gave him a cautionary look. "Merry!"
Merry smiled broadly, "I was only joking with you, Aragorn! My, it is wonderful to see you again."
"And I could say the same," replied the King, coming over to the Hobbit's bed.
"We were sure you were lost when news came from Aman Estel that it had been a day since your illness had struck and you still had not recovered," Merry said solemnly. "It reminded us a bit too much of poor Frodo and Elrond at Rivendell… not that Rivendell is not beautiful, my Lady," Merry said quickly to Arwen.
Arwen smiled in comprehension. "You are well rested, Master Merry. I hope that Master Pippin has not disturbed you too much."
"Actually," Merry laughed, "he has been a real bother, hanging around me like a bee around honey."
"Where is he now?" asked Aragorn, a glimmer of laughter in his eyes. "Making mischief in the barracks, I dare say."
The smile on Merry's face dropped and he shook his head. "No that he has not. He has been with Legolas today as the remaining Elves of his family came the other day and are now preparing the funeral boat for Gloríen."
Aragorn nodded slowly, "I did hear of that on my ride from Minas Estel. We shall attend the funeral this evening before riding to Minas Anor tomorrow for the interment of King Eärnur."
Merry's eyes widened. "Yes, I did hear of that. How queer that he should have lived so long!"
"The powers of Sauron's devices have been great, Merry," Aragorn said, a pain in his eyes as he spoke. "It may still be many ages before his influence wholly leaves Middle-earth. We must be still on our guard."
"Are you saying that what happened at Minas Morgul… I mean, Minas Ithil," Merry corrected himself, remembering that it was not permitted to use its changed name, "may happen again?"
With a deep sigh Aragorn paused to think, then finally he said: "The palantirí show me of events that may or may not come to pass, and though we must take heed of forewarnings, we cannot live in fear of Sauron's residual power. The Ring has been destroyed, yet what effect He still has on controlling what we see in Stones cannot be measured. Caution, my friend, caution is all I can advise, and all that I can rule by."
***
Faramir, the Prince of Ithilien, was reunited with the King that evening at the side of the river Anduin as the songs of the Elves of Mirkwood floated through the still air. The funeral boat of Gloríen, son of Thranduil, was carved most ornately with designs of mallorn leaves and vines.
Upon Gloríen's body lay his shiver of arrows and his father's bow, which had been left to the eldest son of Thranduil on the passing of the King into the West, placed there by Legolas whose face was set in deep sorrow and loss. As the funeral boat was released into the current of the Anduin as it lay shining as silver under the waning moon, the songs of the Elves sang once again their lament for the passing of their brother, and Legolas stood motionless on the bank of the Great River till all others had departed save Arwen and Aragorn who stayed on as the Sun rose above them once more, her beams lightly caressing their faces as the light of Teleperion.
It was early morning and dew hung upon the blades of grass of the Pelennor fields when Arwen took Legolas' hand to lead him back to the city. However, Legolas refused his kindred's hand and turned to the King and Queen, his eyes wide with realisation of his brother's death.
"I must rest alone for a while," Legolas breathed, the sea air that blew in from the coast down stream filling his mind with thoughts of the West. "I shall journey North again to Lórien and then to Lasgalen, my home. Though none of our race dwell there, Lady Arwen, I feel a need to wander amongst trees once more to collect my thoughts."
Arwen placed her hand against Legolas' cheek and looked into his eyes, "That desire thou may indulge, but be wary, my friend, for though thou may be immortal, grief is a sickness that could kill even the most hardy of our people."
Legolas took her hand from his face and placed a kiss upon it and then he took Aragorn's hand in his before looking deep into their eyes. "Then perhaps I may too slip from the confines of this world to meet again my dear brother, as you both will do so in the passing of time. That is your choice, and it may soon be mine."
And so it was that Legolas of Lasgalen left Osgiliath for the last time, riding upon Arod across the River and North to the Golden Woods of Lothlórien, splendid still, even in their twilight.
***
The evening after Legolas' departure, Gimli left Osgiliath to visit his family in the Mountains and to bring tidings to Glóin, his father. He travelled on foot and was given by the Elves a store of lembas of great quantity in case of an emergency, and the Lady Arwen had woven a cloak for him of the warmest fabric of the Elves, for he would be travelling through snowy passes. Then he bid a farewell to his friends and left with a heavy heart, his mind worried by Legolas' fell mood.
After Gimli had set out from the city of Osgiliath, the Hobbits prepared to leave for Minas Anor before embarking on their voyage back to the Shire through the Gap of Rohan. King Elessar bid
farewell there until the next week to Prince Faramir and the Lady Éowyn who were to ride to Minas Estel and tend to affairs in the Northern Land of Ithilien, and the Hobbits said their goodbyes to their dear friends, inviting the Prince and Princess to stay with them in the Shire if they were ever to journey to the Land of Arnor in the Northern Realm, an invitation which was gladly received by the couple.
Early the next morning as the first rays of the new sun lit the tops of the city's turrets, the Royal Guard set forth for Minas Anor, with King Elessar riding alongside Queen Arwen and Prince Eldarion of Gondor, and at the front of the guard rode Merry and Pippin who had grown to such heights by the replenishing draughts of the Ents that they could ride alone on ponies.
By the afternoon they had reached the White Tower of Minas Anor and there the King and Queen changed into vestments befitting a Gondorian funeral, and clad in black they walked in the funereal procession to the Silent Streets, and upon the King's brow the Elendilmir of the Dúnedain shone brightly in the twilight hours.
In the Houses of the Dead, the sarcophagus of King Eärnur was sealed after Aragorn had placed in the casket crown and sword, the stone lid of the coffin fixed in place by the guard of the city, headed by Pippin, who too was dressed formally, his black tabard embroidered with the White Tree and the Seven Stars shining brightly above it.
Before they left the tomb at the closing of the ceremony, Aragorn stepped forth and knelt beside the stone sarcophagus, and he vowed so that no one else save the Queen could hear that he would keep watch over his Realm and never become complacent, as had the Kings of Gondor in the Third Age.
Then it was that the House of the Dead was closed once all who still lived had left it, and King Eärnur rested next to his forefather Eärnil until the earth was once more reshaped by the powers of the Aulë and the Valar.
***
It was a fortnight later and the new moon was waxing to its fullest when dawn came to take place of the night, and so came also the day that Merry and Pippin were to leave Gondor for the Gap of Rohan. Previsions of food, clothing and pony-fodder were arranged for the Hobbits, and they enjoyed a long, luxurious bath that warmed their bones before they sat down to a hearty banquet in the great banqueting hall of the palace. Once they had fully satisfied their considerable appetite, they gathered together their possessions and entered the Courtyard of the White Tree where Aragorn and Arwen sat beneath the ever-flowering blossoms of that splendid tree, playing with Eldarion who happily chased the petals that floated in the soft breeze.
"So… we will set off now," Merry started, dropping his pack to the ground. "Unless, that is, we are needed to assist you in any way."
"Though we would be both glad for you to linger longer with us in Gondor, we know that your hearts long to see the Shire once more," Aragorn smiled, standing to say farewell.
"That is true," Pippin admitted with a sigh. "It is beautiful here in the South, but everything is on such a grand scale… it makes me feel decidedly small, even for a very tall Hobbit."
Aragorn chuckled. "Then next time we must come visit you, and after we can travel to the Land of Arnor where the city of Annúminas is being rebuilt by Lake Evendim. There the landscape is less 'imposing', you might say, though it is yet beautiful and awe-inspiring, and I often yearn to wander there in the North Lands as I did for so long as a Ranger."
"Well, then, you must come soon!" Merry laughed, "And you shall come as Strider and come with us to the Prancing Pony and smoke the best of the Shire's weed, and it shall be as old times… that is, if the Lady does not object."
"That I do not," Arwen laughed, "for though Elves detest the leaf my husband is so fond of, I would often like to learn more of your people, for Hobbits seem such a valiant and surprising folk for those who have been so little heard of throughout the years."
Pippin smiled and reached out to kiss the Queen's hand, "Well, that is settled then. Just remember to warn us before you come so we can give you the best welcoming party ever thrown in the Shire, for you are very dear to us."
"Dearer still are you to us," Aragorn said seriously. "And if you do at anytime feel your wound to trouble you, Merry, do not hesitate to send word."
Merry nodded, and a tear came to his eye. "We shall miss you," he said at last.
And then Aragorn and Arwen embraced the Hobbits and bid them farewell, as did Eldarion, and then Merry and Pippin picked up their packs and headed through the gates where their ponies awaited them for the journey home.
So it was that Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took departed from Minas Anor, the sun shining upon them as the Land of Gondor glittered in the golden light, and they turned back once more to catch a glimpse of the White Tree where King Elessar and Queen Undómiel stood, their hands raised in a gesture of farewell and their son Eldarion at their feet, and it seemed to the Hobbits that they possessed the ethereal light and dignity of the Elves and the nobility of Men at once, and the sun shone brightly upon them for they were bound in life and death, and their blood was mingled in Eldarion in a final Alliance of Men and Elves east of Valinor.
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The End
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So it is complete, so now tell me how you enjoyed it! I wanted to create a real 'tale' in the same vein as Tolkien, so tell me if you think I've been successful, or not. Please, all criticism is helpful.
Via ff.net
Or annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk
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Notes on Elvish:
[thanks to the LotR lyrics for translations I've plagiarised]
Mae govannen i Minas Morgul = Welcome to Minas Morgul (Sindarin)
Arwen, mornie utúlië = Arwen, darkness has come (High-elven/Quenya)
Hlasta! = Listen!
Tiro! = Look!
Caled veleg ethiannen = A great light has extinguisted (Sindarin)
I reniad lín ne mór nuithannen = Your journey has ended in the darkness
Êl eria e môr... tiro, Undómiel = A star rises out of the darkness, look Evenstar
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