Chapter Ten
King Agamemnon's fleet made impressive progress over the last three weeks of sailing. The fair winds and strong currents brought the ships to their destination faster than expected. Nestor was out on the bow of the ship when a messenger came up to him from behind.
"Lord Nestor, King Agamemnon wishes to speak with you." Nestor turned around to look at the messenger.
"What about? Did he say?"
"No, sir, King Agamemnon did not tell me what he wanted to speak about, but he demanded that you come, he said it was urgent." Nestor gave a heavy sigh.
"Alright, thank you, scribe." Nestor stood up as straight as he could, and walked into Agamemnon's Great Cabin. Upon entering the cabin Nestor was greeted by a rather unusual site. Agamemnon could not be seen. He was wearing all black, as though he was in mourning, however to top it off even his face was covered so that no one could see it. On his hands he wore black leather gloves. With all of this combined Agamemnon appeared to be a shade returned from the underworld.
"Great king," Nestor bowed low. "I was told you are in need of my services. What can I help you with?"
Agamemnon said nothing, but instead drew his sword. With a single swift slice, Agamemnon lopped off Nestor's head. As he died Nestor thought about how things had come to this. Just before the blade struck, his life began to replay itself to him.
"Nestor, I would like you to meet my son Agamemnon." The now fifteen-year-old man looked down at the seven-year-old boy.
"He will be king one day and when he is you will be his royal adviser. That means that you will aid him in everything he does, be it war, or peace." King Atreus was called over by one of his advisers.
Nestor heard them talking in hushed voices. As the adviser spoke his voice was somber and at the same time terrified, as though the words that he was speaking to King Atreus would get him killed.
"My lord, I beg your forgiveness but I bring grave news. Your eldest son, Kyprios is dead. He, along with his contingent of equetai, were slain by bandits on the way back from the Trade mission you planned for Pylos." King Atreus stumbled backwards, as though the knowledge of his eldest son's death struck him a physical blow.
"Dead? No, it cannot be!" King Atreus' voice was shaky. "He was perfectly groomed for the task. Only he could have united all of Greece under one banner. No, this cannot be! No I will not accept it!" King Atreus sat back in a chair and held his head in his hand as he wept about the loss of his son.
"My lord," the adviser got down on one knee to bring his head lower than that of his kings as he spoke. "the information gets worse. The bandits were wearing clothes that bared the dolphin standard of the Minoans."
"This is not possible. The Minoans have always been our allies. Never have we struck a blow to each other." Atreus looked at his adviser.
"I think that our tenuous peace with the Minoans is over, they have already taken Argos. Without Argos we lose half of our trading income in the Aegean."
King Atreus shot up from his throne. He face was bright red, and contorted into an image of rage. "Fine, they want to war with the Great Mycenaean empire? Then let them come! We will beat them with superior forces and greater numbers. Call upon the ship builders, call upon the soldiers in waiting. We are going to war!"
Agamemnon was now sixteen years old and was quickly becoming a shrewd diplomat and warlord. In his first five months as king of Mycenae he had subdued the rebels who wanted his younger brother Menelaus on the throne. He had moved on Sparta and conquered its mighty kings. Then, as a show of good faith, he put his brother upon the throne of Sparta. Though it was also a clever ploy, for upon the throne of Sparta Agamemnon's brother would have to fight with the armies of Sparta rather than royalists. Not to mention the fact that the armies of Sparta would never trust a man who was placed upon the throne by an invading king. One special day the former king Atreus called his son into his room. On his death bed he gave his son one last gift.
"My son-", Atreus' words were cut off as he took a sharp and shallow breath. "I give to you one last gift. It was meant to go to your older brother when he took the throne but things changed. Now I hand it to you, Agamemnon. This ring signifies lordship over all of Mycenae. Use its power well." With those last words Atreus' eyes slid shut and he died.
Agamemnon did not shed a tear. "I will, Father. I will." As Agamemnon walked out of his father's room he placed the ring on his finger.
Agamemnon was now forty-five. He had forged a loose alliance throughout all of Greece. In this "alliance" Mycenae ruled. Only two nations still stood free against Mycenae's might, the kingdom of Thessaly, ruled by Triopas, and Troy ruled by the benevolent King Priam.
The planes of Thessaly were hot, hotter than anything Nestor was used to but if his king wanted Thessaly then his king would get Thessaly. Triopas rode out first on his chariot. Agamemnon followed closely behind until the two met in the center of the field. Nestor remained silent in the chariot as the two kings spoke.
Agamemnon looked to the sky and saw crows and vultures flying overhead. "Good day for the crows."
Triopas was not even half amused by his joke. "Remove your armies from my land at once!" Triopas was just barely containing the anger in his heart.
Agamemnon noticed this and decided to mock him further. "I like your land, I think we'll stay." Triopas was about to speak again when Agamemnon spoke over him. "I do not want to watch another massacre." Agamemnon emphasized the word massacre, doing his best to imply that his army would decimate that of Thessaly. "Let us do it like they did in the old days, your best against my best."
Triopas was intrigued by this, "If my man wins?"
Agamemnon looked right into Triopas' eyes and told him a blatant lie, "We will leave Thessaly for good."
Triopas smirked at this and called out his best man. "Boagrius!" Triopas bellowed at the top of his lungs. Out of the army came a giant of a man. He stood almost seven feet tall and had battle scars all across his body. Nestor knew that this man could have given Ajax a true challenge. However for Achilles, this man would be no more than a fly on his face.
"Achilles!" Agamemnon shouted even louder than Triopas. However Achilles did not appear.
Triopas chuckled at this. "Do not worry, Boagrius has this effect on many would-be heroes."
Agamemnon glared at Triopas, "Be careful who you insult, old king." A runner from Agamemnon's army came up to the great king and knelt.
"My king, Achilles is not with the army."
"What! Where is he!?"
"I have sent the boy to look for him."
While awaiting the arrival of Achilles, Agamemnon spoke with Nestor. "I swear to you that Achilles will be punished for all of the deeds he has done against me. He needs to learn how to follow orders." Agamemnon was enraged at Achilles' actions. It was not the first time that Achilles had abandoned his post in the Mycenaean army.
"My king, I have tried to explain this to you time and time again. Achilles is not a man who can be controlled. He is a wild animal and need only be set loose upon a battle field."
Agamemnon was about to speak when the entire Mycenaean army began to chant "Achilles! Achilles! Achilles!" This upset Agamemnon even more, to know that his army had greater respect for Achilles than himself was disconcerting, to say the least.
Achilles rode up on his horse and jumped off. He donned his shield and grabbed his spear. Agamemnon could not contain his anger and spoke harshly to Achilles. "Perhaps we should have a war tomorrow when you're better rested. I should have you whipped for your impudence."
With that last sentence Achilles stopped. He turned to look at Agamemnon. "Perhaps you should fight." To drive his point homeward Achilles began to walk away from the battle field to go back to his tent. However before he could leave the battlefield he was stopped by Nestor.
"Achilles, Achilles. Look at these men, look at their faces. You could end this with a swing of your sword. Send them home to their wives." Nestor's words were calm and controlled. What he spoke of rang true to Achilles, he hated to see good men die in battle, and if it could be helped he would end the battle as soon as possible.
Achilles turned around and stabbed his spear into the ground. "Imagine a king who fights his own battles, wouldn't that be a sight." Achilles' words were as venomous as any snake in all of Greece, yet Agamemnon was not fazed by this.
As Achilles walked towards Boagrius Agamemnon spoke softly to Nestor. "Of all the warlords loved by the gods, I hate him the most."
As Nestor's limp, lifeless body hit the floor two men walked into the Great Cabin and picked up both Nestor's body and head. Carrying both outside they dumped the body over the side of the ship. As it floated away no one looked at the body and no one cared.
XXXXXXX
The rain was soaking the companions to their bones. Achilles had pulled out the cloaks that the crew had used as tents. Those cloaks helped to keep them dry, somewhat, but not even Elvish cloaks could keep them dry from the torrential downpour that they were traveling through. Patroclus rode close to Ninniachel, never falling more than two feet behind her. Achilles and Odysseus still traveled in relative silence. A couple of times Odysseus had tried to get Achilles to talk about his dream. However, each time Achilles would either evade the question or not respond at all.
"How long do you expect it will take us to reach Bree?" Patroclus did his best not to shake uncontrollably from the icy rain falling on them.
"We should be there shortly. I would say about ten minutes more." Ninniachel looked at Patroclus. She could see how cold Patroclus was, the garments brought by the men from Greece were not sufficient to keep them warm in the coming fall. Removing her own cloak she placed it over Patroclus' shoulders. "I know it is not much, however you will die of cold if you are not careful."
Patroclus did his best to smile as he grabbed the cloak from her hand. As he wrapped it around himself he could still pick up her scent as the rain washed it from the dripping cloak. Shortly after receiving the cloak Achilles rode up ahead of the group. Stopping at the top of a hill he could see the light from the hanging lantern in front of the town of Bree. He turned his horse around and waved to the trio.
"The town is just ahead. We should make time, I grow weary of trudging through this rain."
"Agreed." Odysseus shouted as he galloped his horse up next to Achilles. "Come! Patroclus, Ninniachel, I think it is time for us to end this arduous journey. We need to rest, and I would not mind a warm bed over cold ground."
Ninniachel nodded. Patroclus did his best to give a wave, but it turned into more of a shaky hand gesture. The two of them kicked their horses and began a steady trot towards Bree.
A couple minutes later the four companions reached Bree. "Well, this is certainly a surprise." Ninniachel spoke up.
"What do you mean?" Achilles gave her a quizzical look.
"I have not been out here in some years, however Bree was a very open and accepting town. Since it was situated between The Shire and Elvish domain it got many travelers from across the land of Middle-Earth. Never have I seen a wall built in front of the main road." Ninniachel pondered the idea for a minute before dropping the topic entirely.
"We still need a place to stay, so, unless you can think of a reason why we should not venture further, this is most likely our best choice." Achilles jumped off his horse and walked up to the door. He hit the door with his fist three times before an answer. The man who opened the hatch was old, older than anyone Achilles had ever seen. What hair he had was almost white. His eyes were in constant slits as though he was straining to see anything.
"'ello? What business do ye 'ave 'ere?" The man's voice as almost as confounding as his appearance. Rather than it being gruff and raspy, as Achilles had come to expect from older men, it was quite high pitched.
Wishing to give away as little information as possible Odysseus jumped off his horse and began to speak in place of Achilles. "Hello sir, we seek to stay at the inn. This rain is dreadful. We are simple travelers who seek shelter for the night."
The old man behind the door gave a raspy grumble as he closed the port hole and opened the main gate. "I don't mean to be rude and all but we have had to up the security. There's been talk of strange folk wander'n about these days."
"It was no trouble, good sir. We understand completely." Ninniachel bowed as she spoke to the man from atop her horse.
The old man bowed back to her, although he did not know why. After closing the gate the old man went to sit back in his small guard post office.
The four companions were walking through the main street when Patroclus spoke up. "Where do you want to stay?" Achilles and Odysseus did not respond. They had never been there before.
"I believe the best place to stay is a place called the Inn of the Prancing Pony. I hear it is quite hospitable." Ninniachel pointed to a sign hanging above a doorway.
"Well, you do know more than any of us about Bree, so the wisest choice would be to follow. After you." Odysseus impelled her forward.
The four companions dismounted and left their horses by the entrance to the Inn of the Prancing Pony. Upon entering the establishment they were greeted by a rather large and friendly bartender, who was clearly the owner of the Inn.
"Greetings Masters and Ladies. Can I get you a room for the night? We have some cozy rooms that have been called acceptable by elves, and that is saying something."
"No thank you sir, we only seek to rest for a few hours before continuing on our way. May we sit by the fire? The men in my company are rather cold and underdressed for the weather." Ninniachel pointed to the three men, but was truly referring to Patroclus.
The barkeep had not noticed it before. However when he did look he noticed that Odysseus, Achilles, and Patroclus were wearing almost nothing. They wore sleeveless bronze armor on their torsos and leather skirts around their waists that went to their knees. On their feet were open toed shoes that gave no protection from the elements, save for the soles covered by a thick strip of soft leather.
"I would say so! Tell me strangers, why do you wear leather skirts?" The barkeep almost laughed when he said that. Odysseus, noticing that Achilles' arm twitched, spoke up.
"It is called a Faustanella and they are designed to protect your legs from hacking attacks by sword. Although yes, they do seem rather impractical for our current location." Odysseus gave the barkeep a big grin, and a light chuckle in an attempt to lessen the tension that was quickly building in Achilles.
"I should say so! Well, it is not my place to judge. If you would like I can set up a table fer'ya over by the fireplace so that you can dry out and warm up. If you would like anything to drink or eat, just come up to the bar and I will get your order fer'ya."
"Thank you. That would be immensely kind." Odysseus thanked the barkeep before pushing Achilles over to the table to sit.
" I should kill him for insulting us in such a way. I am the greatest warrior to ever live and I just let a common man walk all over me." Achilles fumed about what the barkeep had said.
"Do try to remember that here you are not a king. Here you are just as common a man as any other. Your clothes only symbolize that you are a foreigner to these people. Besides, striking a man down for insulting your clothes could be the most foolish thing I have ever heard you say." Odysseus gave him a look of disappointment.
"Agreed, I have come to expect much better from you, cousin. Do you intend to get into combat without any reason for it? That is one of the things that you taught me never to do." Patroclus never looked Achilles in the eye as he spoke, he was too busy trying to get warm with the heat from the fire.
The night went rather uneventfully, the four companions ate and had drinks together but never spoke much. Deciding that it was time to break the silence, Ninniachel pointed to a man on the other side of the bar. "There is a man sitting in the corner of the bar, he is smoking a pipe. I think I might know who he is. I am not absolutely sure, however."
Just then four small men walked into the bar. The barkeep looked over the bar and down at the four men.
"Good evening young masters, might I interest you in some nice cozy Hobbit-sized rooms, Mr. . ." The barkeep paused, waiting for a name to be given.
"Underhill, my name is Underhill." The barkeep nodded and pondered the name thinking that it might not be real but never questioning what he was told.
"We are friends of Gandalf the Grey, can you tell him that we have arrived?"
The barkeep thought about it for a minute. "Gandalf? Gandalf? Oh yes! Older chap, big grey beard, pointy hat. Not seen him for six months."
Frodo turned around to Sam, Merry, and Pippin. "Now what do we do?" Sam asked in a hushed tone.