Previously:
South Downs, Cardolan, Arnor, Fourth Age, Narwain, 2
"Mmm, my Lord," she mumbled, nuzzling his neck as the warmth of their bodies lulled her to sleep.
"Melmenya, Éowyn nin," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "Only the Valar know what I could have done to deserve thee, my love, for I know not how I have been so blessed."
She kissed his chest, then dozed off, safe and warm in his arms.
Legolas watched her sleep, his mind sated and content, remembering their heated lovemaking. His expression grew pensive as he recalled the private conversation with his Ada from mere hours ago, and before his overactive mind could contemplate what it all meant, he set it aside, focusing again on his wife, and putting off his concerns over what was revealed to him for another day.
Chapter 34:
Weathertop, Arthedain, Arnor, Fourth Age, Narwain, 2
"It is as though time itself has passed by this place," Éowyn whispered, looking all about the broken ring of stone, the last ruins of a once powerful fortress of Men. She and Legolas had led a patrol to escort King Elessar to this ancient hill, still towering at the centre of the kingdoms of Arnor. From here, the North lands seemed to be laid out before them. In the Second Age, Aragorn's ancestors had built a watchtower here, and a palantír was placed within, the most powerful of the Seeing Stones, or so legend said. The Witch-King destroyed this place over a thousand years ago, leaving nothing but the ruins that they now walked among. The palantír was lost in the frozen Bay of Forochel with the King and his fleeing escort.
She looked over at Aragorn now, his brow furrowed in concentration as he walked among the ruins. On the ride over, he had mentioned that he was here more recently, in the early days of the War, but he would say nothing more. Éowyn remembered a tale that Merry had recounted to her, of a cruel night spent in this very place. She wondered what the King saw in the shadows. The sun was shining above them, but it still felt cold here, so high above the plains below. She needed to remind herself that The Nine had all perished in the War and could not harm them here, and yet her senses were alert, her hand floating above the pommel of Stormshatter tied to her waist, ready to draw.
"This place has known many memories," Legolas said, his eyes sharp as he looked around.
"Do you sense anything?" Éowyn asked, looking over at him.
"Nay," he said, shaking his head slightly. "It is but a ruin."
"Legolas," Aragorn called.
They went over to the King, who was standing near the cliff, looking North.
"Anything?" Legolas asked.
"Nay," Aragorn said curtly. "Pray lend us thy sight."
Legolas motioned for three of his Elven scouts to come forward. They all stood next to the King, looking to the North, staring far beyond the range that Éowyn's eyes could see. She stepped back and left them to their task, moving about the ruins of the fortress, imagining what a grand castle must have once stood here, overlooking the lands to the North, a powerful sentry to those who would try and cross the Great East Road, a vision of safety and comfort to those who dwelt here. Aragorn wished to restore the Northern Kingdom and there would be a great role for Rohan to play as well. Already many of her people had settled to the near South, growing villages where once there had been but barren land. Still, as she wandered high above the realm, it was difficult to imagine any rebuilding being finished in her lifetime.
The hill was dusty and rough, with dirt and gravel strewn about, remnants of the stone that had become ruined and battered with time. Here and there, she could see the footprints of her riders who had escorted them to this place, the distinctive pointed boots that Elves wore and the larger and more rounded ones of the Rohirrim left obvious marks in the ground. She knelt down here and there to examine them, looking for distinctive marks in the dirt. Legolas had trained her in tracking and how to properly review a scene. Her basic skills trained as a Shieldmaiden had grown far sharper since coming to live with her husband, and she found a familiar sense of pride when able to discover these small details on her own. She frowned as she spied a different set of footprints, leading away from the well-trodden ground in the centre and off in the opposite direction from where Legolas and Aragorn were standing.
Following the tracks carefully, she wondered if it was just another rider who had circled the perimeter before. The tracks were relatively fresh and easy to follow, and surely belonged to one of their own. She reached the edge of the cliff and the tracks stopped, with no accompanying trail leading back away from the cliff. Éowyn looked over the edge to the plains far below, furrowing her brow at the strange situation.
"Éowyn," Legolas called, coming over to her side. "What is it?"
"These tracks," Éowyn said, pointing to the ground below. "They are different from those of our riders, and they lead here, with no indication they moved back."
Legolas looked down at the ground, then peered over the edge of the cliff as she had done.
"There is a ledge, below," he said. "It is small, but large enough for a Man. Whoever this was seems to have climbed down."
"But why?" Éowyn asked, looking at her husband. "Our riders are accounted for. Who is this?"
"We ought to find out," Legolas agreed. "Estel!"
Aragorn joined them and kneeled down, looking carefully at the tracks that Éowyn had found.
"Take care," he said finally, rising back up. "I should hate to lose my dearest friend and his wife in a climbing incident."
Legolas gave him a wry smile, then held out his hand to Éowyn.
"Legolas," she warned him, looking at him sternly. "I can manage."
"My Lady," Legolas replied, just as seriously. "Now is the time for caution, not for showing off."
Éowyn rolled her eyes and shook her head when she saw that Aragorn would offer her no support. She sighed and took her husband's hand, stepping forward and facing him. He picked her up easily and wrapped an arm across her waist. She hooked her legs around him and hugged her arms around his neck. Though hanging on to his back may have been more comfortable, to say nothing for appearing far more proper than this position, it was actually more dangerous for climbing. Facing his front would allow Legolas to climb down and hold her weight against the rock, and her grip would be easier to maintain than if she was on his back, pulling him away from the cliff.
"You are incorrigible, my Lord," she growled against his ear. "Do not pretend that you are not enjoying this."
"Éowyn this is for thy safety and nothing more," he replied innocently, easing himself over the edge, his feet finding easy holds on the jagged hillside. They descended quickly, the length of Legolas' arms and legs keeping her away from the rock while shielding her from the wind whipping past. When at last they reached the ledge, she tried to get off of him, but his large hands cupped her bottom, keeping her against him.
"Stop, Legolas!" she sneered, though a jolt of excitement hit her as she felt him rub against her teasingly. When they had first met, she had never noticed how…well endowed…he was. Truly she did not think of him in such a fashion, at first. Now though, it was almost impossible for her not to notice given how his leggings would hold his body, and especially when she was pressed so close to him.
"I know not of what you speak," he answered, letting her down finally. "I was merely looking for a suitable place to set thee down."
"We were together just before riding out," she grumbled, glaring at him. "Control thyself in the presence of the King and thy soldiers!"
He laughed as they went about exploring the ledge, the space far larger than Legolas had thought when he looked down earlier. The stone was cleaner here, free of the sand and dirt that came upon the exposed top of Amon Sûl. There were no tracks, just rough rock and no sign that anyone had come down here.
"I do not understand," Éowyn said, peering over the edge, then glancing all about her. "Surely they did not climb the entire face of the hill?"
"It would be a dangerous trek indeed," Legolas agreed. "Perhaps there is more to this ledge than we can see."
She watched as he turned towards the wall and began running his hands along the rough surface. Catching on, she joined him, going to the far end and systematically running her hands up and down, feeling for anything out of the ordinary.
"Legolas!" she gasped, freezing as her hand came over a small gap. Cool air hit her fingers and she looked up, trying to get a better view. "I feel air!"
He reached her and brought his hand up to hers. Frowning in concentration, he ran his hand first up, then back down, right, then left, seeking out a seam that they could not see, a larger gap than what she had discovered.
"Here," he said finally, moving her hand down lower to touch a smooth patch of stone that seemed altogether different from the wall around it. She pressed against it and the rock before her gave way with a sigh, a dark line emerging as the small stone door opened just enough for them to go through sideways.
"We should summon Aragorn and the others," Legolas said, placing his hand on his wife's shoulder. "I would not venture further without reinforcements."
"But our quarry may be escaping!" Éowyn protested, though she knew he was right.
"Patience, my love," he said calmly, leading her back over to the edge. "If there is a quarry to catch, he or she shall not be long ahead of us, and I suspect that we are not dealing with merely one, besides."
He lifted his head and yelled up to Aragorn. Though they could not see the King, they heard his voice call back. After a rather strange exchange where neither could see the other but each was shouting up and down, Aragorn rappelled down with four scouts from Éowyn's patrol. Returning to the gap, she shimmied her way through, followed by Legolas and Aragorn, with two scouts following, the other two left to stand guard.
"Were there ever tales of tunnels built into the hills?" Legolas asked as Aragorn lit a torch and handed it forward.
"Nay," Aragorn replied as a scout led the way, with Éowyn and Legolas following. "This is the first I have heard or seen of one."
They descended a steep ramp, with not so much stairs but sharply cut footholds hewn in to the rock. The tunnel was cramped and not nearly as well dug as a mine shaft, and even Éowyn had to duck down to fit. They traveled for several minutes in silence, following the narrow path as it descended down into the hill. Eventually it evened out and the tunnel became wider and taller, with large wooden beams placed every few dozen feet to support it.
"Look," Éowyn said, pointing to the ground. "Wheel tracks. Carts have been through here."
Aragorn kneeled down and touched the dirt, then squinted as he looked ahead into the darkness.
"The ruts are deep, and old," he said. "This tunnel must lead on to the other Weather Hills."
"That's leagues from here," Éowyn said in disbelief.
"This land has been unwatched for centuries," Legolas said grimly. "There were old mines in the Hills before. It would not be hard to link them together with enough time and men to do so."
"To what end is the question," Aragorn said quietly.
The King ordered one of the scouts to go back and bring the patrol down from Weathertop. The rest of them carried on, moving through the darkness with the lone torch to guide them. It was difficult to keep their bearings, or to know whether they were still beneath Amon Sûl or had moved on to the next of the hills. They were able to go at a brisk pace with the tunnel now large enough for all of them. Éowyn wondered just how long they would go. Surely they wouldn't try and cross the entire mountain range? Legolas had told her of the days it took for the Fellowship to travel the Mines of Moria, and though she was certainly capable, she did not think it necessarily wise to venture so far without the rest of the Army.
She checked Stormshatter from time to time, the blade never gleaming blue to warn of the presence of Orcs. Who had built this tunnel and used it? She tried to envision armies of slaves carving into the rock of the hills, widening the mines and burrowing a hidden trail linking the range. They could move soldiers, supplies, travel through the realms of Arnor unseen. Had they been watched while camping on the South Downs? Were the tracks she had found above the rushed footsteps of a spy escaping before Aragorn reached the summit with his troops? It seemed there was more than mere nomads living in the North, as Ada had warned. Were the scourges of Angmar more numerous and stronger than they had believed?
"Wait," Legolas called, stopping ahead of them. He turned to his right and stared intently at the rock wall.
Éowyn noticed the flame of the torch flickering in the hand of the scout.
"A draft," she stated, coming to her husband's side. "Is it another hidden door?"
"I cannot be sure, though how the wind would travel down to these depths otherwise, I know not," he replied, running his hand along the wall.
"There are slits here, and here," Legolas said, outlining a row of gaps cut into the rock at regular intervals.
"My Lord, on this side as well," a scout called as he did the same inspection of the opposite wall.
Legolas frowned, then glanced down at the ground.
"A trap?" Aragorn asked, frowning at the ground.
"Aye, an ancient one by the looks of it," Legolas said, crouching down and running his hand along the dirt of the ground. "Arrows, most likely, though they are but dust now."
"Why would anyone dig this tunnel and yet set traps within?" Éowyn asked.
"To deter their enemies from following, as we seek to do," Legolas said grimly. "We had best take care. If there are other traps throughout, they may not have all failed with time."
"Let us go back to the surface and prepare properly," Éowyn suggested. "I would bring more men and proper torches, so we can see where we are going. Whoever came here before us has too great a head start, and it would be foolish to traipse around in the dark if there are indeed traps as you say, my Lord."
"The White Lady speaks wisely," Aragorn said after a pause. "Let us bring the Army forward and scout the terrain properly, and cautiously."
It was slow going making their way back and out of the tunnel, and slower still to climb back up to the peak of Weathertop and descend the winding trail back to the ground below. However, Éowyn felt glad to be back in the open air once more, and was confident that she had given her King sage counsel.
They rode back to the South Downs in silence, the patrol all wondering what had been discovered and what did it mean for their expedition? Was this but a relic of a bygone era, a tunnel system built by the enemy to assist in its attack on the Northern Kingdom of Men? Or was this more recently used? Were there spies all around them, meaning that a greater enemy lay in wait for them to the North?
Weather Hills, Arthedain, Arnor, Fourth Age, Narwain, 2
"My Lord," the soldier called, bowing his head. "We've found no sign of a tunnel entrance in this area."
"Then move along," Erchirion ordered. "The tunnels must surface somewhere."
"Aye, my Lord," the soldier obeyed, turning his horse around and galloping off to muster the others to carry out the Prince's command.
"A mine can run for leagues, in any direction," Faramir said, frowning as he looked about the countryside around them. "It could be beneath the very hooves of our horses and we would be none the wiser."
"Aye, but that would serve no strategic purpose," Erchirion noted. "If we presume that the tunnels were used to deliver supplies and men to the battlefront, to take Weathertop and the garrison there by surprise, then a long circuitous route would be ineffective. Besides, Orcs and wargs would never be able to travel such great distances underground. They would be crashing into each other and starving to death before even reaching their destination. No, the entrance must be close by."
Faramir nodded and pushed his horse forward at a slow trot, scanning the area as they went.
"Lady Éowyn seems to have taken to patrol," Erchirion noted lightly. "She rides with the skill of the most seasoned of scouts, and yet she is a Queen. Curious, is it not?"
"Éowyn has always been true to the Shieldmaiden she was raised to be," Faramir replied. "I am not surprised."
"Such a vibrant and fierce spirit," Erchirion said, smiling to himself. "And yet she has been tamed by a Wood Elf of all beings, at least for now."
"Prince Legolas is a hero and a warrior," Faramir said, frowning at his cousin. "You have been to South Ithilien. You've seen how their realm thrives."
"I've also seen that she lives in a cave behind a waterfall, when a woman of her stature should be in a grand fortress," Erchirion replied.
"Thy words are most traitorous, cousin," Faramir warned. "Legolas is ever our ally and friend. Do not covet his Lady, for she has made unbreakable vows to him that demand our respect and honour."
"Unbreakable," Erchirion huffed, smiling as his horse moved forward comfortably. "Cousin, I need no lessons from thee. Mind my words as such – Lady Éowyn shall find herself one day wondering over the choices that she has made, and in that instance, when she does seek comfort and support, it is to Men that she shall look, to her own kin, her own people. I, for one, would do my duty to the White Lady should it come to that. Do as you wish, for thy part. I have given thee the path to one day perhaps have thy greatest desire. I can do no more for thee beyond that."
Faramir grunted and frowned as they continued with their search.
Éowyn frowned as she stared down into the darkness of the hidden entrance carved into the side of the mountain. Over time it had grown covered by stone, small trees and brush. Only through the efforts of soldiers underground and on the surface were they able to find it and clear the tunnel. She stood beside her husband now, perplexed as to what it meant.
"Perhaps it is but a relic of a former Age," Legolas muttered. "Used by Angmar in times of old, but no longer active."
"Aye," Éowyn said, sounding unconvinced. "Still, it shows a level of organization and strategy of which we did not expect from the Orcs and other dark ones. Perhaps it is as Ada warned. Perhaps all dark forces did not flee this land. Perhaps they lied dormant, in wait beneath the Weather Hills, and we have now roused them by bringing the Army here."
"If so, then the cities to the North are perhaps not as deserted as expected," Legolas said grimly.
"Aye, my love," Éowyn said, staring into the abyss before her with concern.
"He is feverish," the healer said, placing his hand on the soldier's forehead. "His eyes do not focus, as though they are hooded by some vision. Keep him cooled, give him water regularly, and may his delirium break in the coming days."
King Éomer frowned as he watched the healer and his attendants move from patient to patient. It had begun days ago, a soldier here, a rider there, showing signs of fatigue, then fever, and now complete incapacitation. At first they thought it was but the weariness of hunting the tunnels beneath the Weather Hills, or perhaps something they had eaten. Now though, it seemed that it may be something different.
"Anything?" Éomer asked as Aragorn came to his side.
"Nay," the King replied. "If it is dark magic, it is not such that I have seen before. They are not in pain, are not under some spell, but it as though they are not themselves, neither asleep, nor fully awake."
"This shall slow our advance," Éomer noted. "I would reach Fornost in daylight, though clouds have been seen on the horizon."
The Army had moved from the South Downs past Amon Sûl and were now camped near the northern Weather Hills. Fornost lay several leagues up the road, no more than two days' hard ride at most, and yet to move a force as large as theirs required careful planning and organization. The road was not as wide as to the South, and there were numerous lookout points above that would make them vulnerable should an enemy be waiting for them.
"Agreed," Aragorn said, nodding his head as he looked over the patients spread out before them. "Rearrange the legions so that the afflicted are guarded and the others may continue to train. I would not bring the Army forward until all may ride."
"My King," Éomer nodded.
"Do you sense it, Éomer?" Aragorn asked quietly as they turned and left the healer's tent.
"We are being watched, I am certain of it," Éomer said, glancing about. "I had thought that the Elves would be able to find whoever dared to spy upon us, but they are as blind as we are, it appears."
"Be mindful of thy riders," Aragorn said. "They may feel anxious and tense. Remind them that we are strong in our numbers, and there is safety in continuing with our preparations."
"My King," Éomer said, bowing his head as he took his leave to return to the Rohirrim camp.
Ruins of Fornost, Arnor, Fourth Age, Narwain, 2
"The King senses our presence! Be warned! His power is great."
"But he sees not, not fully. The tunnels have been emptied. We maintain the advantage."
"What of the White Lady?"
"She remains ever at the side of her Elven husband. So long as she is under his watch, we cannot approach."
"Then they must be separated, divided when they reach the walls."
"That they shall be."
Weather Hills, Arthedain, Arnor, Fourth Age, Narwain, 2
"The afflicted shall be brought behind, and may not approach until we have secured the city," Aragorn said, looking down at the map spread out on the table before them. "If we reach the wall without resistence, I would have patrols flank out in both directions, circling around and meeting the main force in the centre courtyard, or what shall be left of it."
"The Swan Knights shall lead the centre, my King," Prince Imrahil said, bowing his head. "Thy reclaimed throne shall await thee in due course."
Aragorn smiled tightly, then proceeded to give his further orders.
Éomer frowned and shared a displeased glance with his sister. The generals dispersed to prepare their legions once the King drew the council to a close.
"Thy father assumes much, Prince Erchirion," Éowyn said as she fell in step with the young prince. "The honour of entering the old city should fall to a group of allies, should it not?"
"The glory is for all of Gondor, my Lady," Erchirion replied easily, smiling at her. "History shall recall that King Elessar entered Fornost, not which knights were at the fore."
"I would be interested to see the history books in Dol Amroth and how they recount the tale, my Lord," Éowyn said pointedly.
"My Lady is most welcome to visit and inspect my city and all within at her leisure, for as long as she wishes," Erchirion said, bowing his head respectfully, then following his brothers to their camp.
Éowyn shook her head ruefully as she watched him go.
"Now is not the time for politics, my love," Legolas whispered, taking her hand and guiding her in the direction of their own camp.
"The honour of entering Fornost ought to be for my brother, as well as my husband," Éowyn sneered. "Would that the King had reminded Prince Imrahil of such."
"Be not petty. We ought not to care for such priorities," he said soothingly.
"I would expect Ada would care," she retorted.
"Ada is not here," he said, smiling at her. "Save thy ire for the enemy, dearest."
"Very well," she said, sighing as they arrived at their tent. "I must refocus. My mind is clouded with thoughts that have no place as we ride."
"How may I assist?" he asked, ducking into the tent behind her.
"By reminding me of my priorities, my love," she teased, turning around and smirking at him before falling to her knees.
Ruins of Fornost, Arnor, Fourth Age, Narwain, 2
Legolas skipped quietly from ledge to ledge, the stone path worn and precarious. The quiet steps of his soldiers behind him were mostly silent, though he could sense their presence and their quickening pace. Far below in the valley, where the road winded to the old city of Fornost in the distance, the Army of the West marched deliberately, arrayed in sharp lines, the flags of the Swan Knights at its head, with the banners of the other allies behind.
Legolas paused and drew his bow, aiming down below, then over to the rocky outcroppings and cliffs across. Through the march they had encountered no one and nothing, barely even seeing birds or native beasts. It was eerily quiet, and yet the further they travelled, they still saw no scouts, lookouts, sentries or watchers. If there was an enemy waiting for them, they would be within the walls themselves, for no one was stationed along the road.
With his Elven sight, he could see Fornost in the distance, the walls still standing, though crumbling in places. There was no sign that the ruins were occupied, let alone any great force lying in wait for them. Perhaps the obstacles they had cleared from the road before were merely old fallen trees and rockslides from years past. Perhaps the scouts had been wrong in sensing they were being watched?
He looked down and found his wife, leading her riders forward, just behind Aragorn and his Royal Guard. He smiled as he watched Éowyn glancing about, wary for any threat coming from above. She looked formidable and strong in the saddle, and he was filled with the familiar feelings of pride and love that he used to carry in secret when he first met her at Edoras, and which now he could show openly as her husband.
Nodding his head, he turned and jumped across a small chasm to the next ledge, his Elves following behind.
Éowyn frowned, glancing about as she took in the scenery around her. Something was off. She could not place it, or even describe it, but something wasn't right. She could not see Legolas and the others high above them, but she could feel his presence. Reaching out across her mental link, she could sense his calm and it relaxed her slightly, but there was a tension in the air that she could not quite understand.
Training for the past weeks had sharpened her riders and she was confident they were battle ready, and yet there was no battle to be had. Upon discovering the tunnels under Weathertop, she expected an enemy to lie in wait, and yet as Fornost loomed in the distance, they had seen and encountered nothing.
Her eyes narrowed as she saw the banner of the Swan Knights flying in the gentle breeze up ahead. Though she had promised Legolas she would let it go, she could not. How dare Prince Imrahil claim the prestige of entering the city first? Such a place was for Éomer, or Legolas, surely. Where was Dol Amroth during the Ring War? The small part they played was nothing compared to all that Rohan had to endure and the great feats that her husband had accomplished as part of the Fellowship.
She saw the silks of Prince Erchirion among the host and her anger boiled further. A whelp of a man, he was. She had hosted him, visited his city, and endured his boorish ways only to see him follow his House in taking a place that was rightfully hers to have. How insolent and ridiculous, she thought. He and his brothers were not even half the warriors that Legolas was. Blessed was her sister-in-law to leave that city and come to Edoras as Éomer's wife. To stay in Dol Amroth would be to die a slow death for any woman.
Her mind flared as she recalled the vision of Erchirion and his fellow knight ravishing that woman in his guest house in South Ithilien. He was arrogant and controlling and entitled, a spoiled Prince who expected all to bow to him. She would show him. If she ever was in such a position, she would be the one in control, riding him as she saw fit and taking her pleasure before he could receive his. She would be the victor, conquering him and his knights, using her body and her mind to show them who was truly superior. Let them lust for her in private, such was their lot as being unworthy.
Éowyn smiled as these dark thoughts swirled in her mind. Her heart beat faster as the thrill of pending battle fired her blood. A small part of her mind and heart cried out a warning, that something was amiss, that she was not herself, but it was ignored as Windfola carried her forward, the battle lust screaming within her now.
Faramir took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he rode amongst the host. Ever since his conversations with Erchirion, he had been vexed. Nightly he dreamed of Éowyn coming to his tent, stripping naked before him and fulfilling his every desire. She took him into her mouth dutifully and bent over so he could take her as the stallion takes the mare. She would accept his seed inside her body, then clean him with her lips and tongue before awaiting his next command. He would wake from these dreams in a sweat, and only vigorous exercise would seem to calm him. During the day, Erchirion's constant voice would ring in his mind, reminding him that Éowyn was not in her proper place, that she did not belong with Prince Legolas or ruling a forest realm of Elves and Men. He would picture her seated next to him in the throne room of Emyn Arnen, and in his bed each night. He would shake his head and scold himself for such thoughts, and yet they continued to plague him each day and night.
As Fornost rose in the distance, the ruined gate drawing nearer, he swallowed and tried to focus yet again. There was a battle to be fought, and he must be completely devoted to that cause, for if his mind was allowed to stray, he would become error prone, vulnerable and exposed.
But battle was for warriors, and he was one, truly. Former Captain of the Guard in Minas Tirith, most esteemed of warriors, even above his beloved deceased brother Boromir. Warriors who triumphed on the field were allowed their spoils. It was an age old tradition, shared by Men, Elves, Dwarves and all races. The triumphant could claim all they deserved – the loyalty of soldiers, vast lands, riches, gems, women.
A smirk crossed his lips, his eyes focusing on the city ahead. Yes, if he distinguished himself in battle, he was entitled to claim spoils. Even Lord Legolas would have to acknowledge that. And, if Lady Éowyn saw his prowess, his strength, his power, she would be drawn to him, unable to resist, would bow to him and allow him to claim her, give herself to him free willing, the most beautiful of trophies.
He took a deep breath and steadied his horse, his hand falling to his sword. Fate had decided, after all, to give him yet another opportunity, a chance for Faramir, now Lord of Emyn Arnen and Steward of Gondor, to show his quality.
"They have crossed the gate. Excellent."
"Their minds are so young and ripe, so easily turned."
"They shall scout about the ruins, and finding nothing, will feast where the seat of the King once stood."
"We will then have our first chance."
"Be mindful of both the King and the Elven Prince. They will see our attacks at work if we are not careful. They will sense the danger within the White Lady and the others if we do not take care."
"Be not greedy. This is but the beginning. The true battle lies for them when they leave the city."
The soldiers sang songs loudly, lifting their heads and throwing their voices into the dark night above. Torches were placed everywhere, the old lanterns and braziers of the city re-lit for the first time in centuries. Aragorn and his generals sat on crumbling stone seats and makeshift cushions, taking in the revelry around them with wide grins.
"This is as battle should be," Éomer joked. "Reclaiming a city with nary an arrow fired or a sword drawn. Thou I would have hoped for a skirmish at least, there shall be other battles in our future, and so I am much pleased to have been spared one this night."
A roar of approval went up all around him at the truth of his words.
"You are quiet this night, my King," Gimli noted. "Shall we have another drinking contest to lift thy spirits?"
"Go and fetch the mugs and I shall be at thy service, Master Dwarf," Aragorn smiled as his friend set off to find drinks for them.
"What is truly on thy thoughts, Estel?" Legolas asked quietly, speaking in Elvish while the others continued to carouse around them.
"I am thinking of King Eärnur, and his fall," Aragorn said softly. "Why would he accept the Witch-King's challenge? And to journey to Minas Morgul unescorted no less? Was his pride so strong that it clouded his judgment to his peril?"
"He was impetuous and vain, it is said," Legolas remarked. "But you do not think he was in his right mind when he accepted the challenge?"
"At least in agreeing to such unfair terms," Aragorn said. "Even if he has been victorious, how did he expect to leave Minas Morgul unharmed when surrounded by the enemy? How do we not know he was not merely shot on his entrance, without having ever drawn his sword against the Witch-King?"
"We do not," Legolas replied.
"Aye," Aragorn said seriously. "And if the Last King could be swayed thus, then what of this host as we sit here in the old city of the enemy?"
"A city of Men, however," Legolas reminded him.
Aragorn watched as the celebrations grew rowdy, the few women amongst the host finding companions and heading off to the camps.
"Aye," Aragorn said, his eyes focused in deep contemplation.
"My Lord," Eowyn teased, bringing him up the old stone stairs. "It is a time for celebration."
"We did not find battle, my love, though I am pleased for it," Legolas replied, watching her in amusement.
"We have retaken the old city of Men, and accomplished one of our objectives. It is worth giving thanks and being grateful," she said playfully, leading him to the remains of an old parapet.
"I am ever grateful in thy presence, Éowyn," he said smoothly.
"Good," she said cheerfully. "Then let us celebrate, my love. Take me here, beneath the stars, and I shall scream for thee so that all the host shall know that Lord Legolas has come to Fornost and emerged victorious."
He laughed, then took her into his arms, pressing a fierce kiss to her lips as he pulled at the laces of her dress.