SoG Ch 25

City of Kings, City of Prisoners

Avadiel leaned as far over the pommel as she could. Sirdail's mane whipped the elleth's face with each stride, but it couldn't be helped. Avadiel had to do all she could to help Sirdail keep up with Shadowfax. She had wondered when Glorfindel gifted Sirdail to her, if Sirdail was a mearh, but as Sirdail struggled to maintain the stride demanded of her, Avadiel knew it was not so. They had left Edoras two days ago and would arrive at the White City shortly after sunrise. Gandalf had insisted after the first day and night that they would travel only in the security of the darkness of night as they got closer. And so it was pitch black as the horse thundered across the plain. Only Avadiel's Elvish senses helped her to follow the wizard and Pippin.

Soon, Gandalf slowed Shadowfax enough that Avadiel could catch up to him and as they came to the top of a small hill, he pulled the stallion to a halt. Avadiel stopped beside him.

"Minas Tirith, City of Kings," he said.

"The Tower of Guard," Avadiel commented softly as her eyes turned to the city. She felt her mouth drop open as she looked at it. The city was massive, built into the side of a mountain. From their viewpoint, she counted seven levels, carved out of white stone. Avadiel was awed by its' size and beauty.

Gandalf set Shadowfax into a gallop once more, and Avadiel followed suit. They loped through the open gates of the ground level, and Avadiel followed as they went all way to the top, stopping at the sixth level gate only long enough for it to be opened to them. They reached a courtyard at the top and Gandalf dismounted. He reached up for Pippin as Avadiel hopped off Sirdail's back and stretched her legs. She patted the horse's sweat-soaked neck.

"It's the tree," Pippin was saying as he and Gandalf walked away.

"Yes, the White Tree of Gondor," Gandalf replied as Avadiel rushed to catch up. "The Tree of the King. Lord Denethor, however, is not king. He is a steward only." He turned to look at Avadiel and then Pippin. "Listen carefully both of you. Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise."

Gandalf turned towards the door, then seemed to think better of it and turned back to Pippin, "And don't mention Frodo."

This time he reached for the handle of the door before stopping once more and turned to Avadiel, "And say nothing of Aragorn either."

He turned for the door again before he paused once more. "In fact, I think it's better that neither of you speak at all."

Avadiel and Pippin looked at each other as Gandalf turned from them and entered the hall. Avadiel shrugged to Pippin before following, and the Hobbit followed quickly and silently. Only the sound of their shoes and Gandalf's staff echoed through the stone halls. Avadiel's brow furrowed as she observed the Steward of Gondor, who sat on the lowest throne, his head down as he completely ignored their entrance. Gandalf came to a stop on bowed slightly. Avadiel stopped a couple of feet behind him, and Pippin stepped between her and the wizard.

"Hail, Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor," Gandalf said. "I come with tidings in this dark hour. And with counsel."

Denethor slowly lifted his face and glared at them; something in his expression made Avadiel pause.

"Perhaps you come to explain this," he finally replied as he pulled an item from the folded robes in his lap. "Perhaps you come to tell me why my son is dead."

Avadiel recognized the broken horn as soon as she saw it. How Denethor had come to possess his son's item, she did not know. She thought back to the day when Boromir had died and she had been injured so gravely. She remembered hearing him use the horn that day. It was how she had found him. She looked at Gandalf in surprise.

"Boromir died to save us," Pippin commented. Avadiel frowned as she turned her attention back to the Steward, who had turned his attention to the Hobbit. "My kinsman and me. He fell defending us from many foes."

The grief on Denethor's face was replaced by anger as Pippin stepped up and dropped to his knee.

"Pippin!"Gandalf hissed, but it was too late.

"I offer you my service, such as it is," as Pippin spoke, Avadiel stepped forward to stop him, "in payment of this debt."

Her movement caught Denethor's attention as he gaze shifted from Pippin to her as she moved, but his stare was so piercing, she stopped mid-step. The hair on her neck rose as his gaze challenged her. When she said and did nothing, his eyes shifted back to Pippin. Long moments went by before he finally spoke.

"This is my first command to you: how did you escape and my son did not, so mighty a man as he was?"

"The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow; Boromir was pierced by many."

Denethor gasped softly and looked away from the Hobbit. His grief was so palpable, it hurt Avadiel to look at him.

"My lord," she said. "I was there also."

His eyes focused on her as she continued, "Your son fought valiantly and died with honor."

She had hoped to give him some measure of peace with her word, but was instead, surprised when he sneered at her.

Gandalf stepped forward and tapped Pippin with his staff. "Get up," he hissed.

"My lord," the wizard turned her attention to Denethor, " there will be a time to grieve for Boromir, but it is not now."

"What were you thinking?" Avadiel whispered heatedly to Pippin when he backed up next to her. She sighed when he did not respond and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She knew how it felt, to speak out of place, but she did not believe the Hobbit was aware of the repercussions of his statement. He lifted his head to look at her and she squeezed his shoulder softly.

"It's going to be okay. Mithrandir would not let anything bad happen to you," she whispered. She turned to the wizard, hoping for confirmation from him, but he was still arguing with Denethor.

"I tell you now, I will not bow to this Ranger from the North," Denethor was replying to Gandalf.

"Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the king, Steward!" Avadiel cut in hotly.

Denethor's eyes snapped over to her face. Avadiel hadn't thought it possible for him to look any angrier, but as the lines in his face deepened, he proved her wrong.

"What did you say to me?" he asked as he stood from his chair.

In her head, Avadiel told herself, 'Hold your tongue! Don't say it!" Instead of listening to her instinct, she replied to his question, "If that Ranger from the North had been on the throne where he belongs, Gondor wouldn't be falling into ruin! And when he comes, you will bow down to him, or someone will help you bow down!"

Denethor clutched the sides of his chair and braced himself to a near standing position.

"Guards! Seize her!" he said.

Avadiel tensed as the guards moved towards her. She turned and looked at Gandalf, and from the expression on his face, she knew she was in trouble and that he could do nothing to stop what was about to happen.

"No!" she cried as guards braced her on each arm. Another guard took her weapons from her as she struggled against her captors. She stopped struggling as she caught movement from the corner of her eye and she focused on Denethor, who took a step towards her.

"The rule of Gondor is mine, and no other!" he said venomously. "Take her away!"