XXXVII
The Golden Knight

It had been Denethor's wish that he take a party of at least a dozen to return to the Westerlands, but he'd decided to go alone to make sure none would slow him, every day he stalled was another day a war could start. Instead of his bright golden armor he dressed only in a chainmail shirt which he hid by wearing rags over it. He'd strapped Brightroar to his back, now covered by a plain leather sheath instead of the ornate one he'd first chosen from Gondor's armory. He was about to leave just before the morning dawn when he was approached by Addam Marbrand, who was also dressed and packed for travel.

"Ser Jaime you fool," he said, "Are you really going to try and go it alone? Do you know how much trouble I'm already going to be in for failing to protect you?"

He shrugged, "I'm alive aren't I?"

"That you are," the other knight said, "but somehow I doubt your father will see it that way, especially if the next word that reaches him of my performance is that I let you run off into the countryside on your own."

"So what are you saying exactly?" he asked.

Marbrand rolled his eyes, "I'm coming with you, that way if you run yourself to exhaustion and ride off a cliff at least someone's there to bring back the body."

Jaime smirked, "Well if I do go tumbling into a ravine I'll be sure to spend my final moments writing you a glowing letter of praise before I expire. Let's be off then."

They rode out through Minas Tirith wordlessly, he could see that even while wearing rags and a hoods over their heads a number of the people still recognized the pair of them and hushed whispers and pointing fingers soon filled the sidestreets. One of the braver men ran up and tried to offer him some manner of pastry but he just waved the vendor aside without a word. This seemed to deter the rest of them.

Crossing Pelennor fields to the outer wall was much more peaceful, though there were some small townships inside the Rammas Echor he hadn't spent a great deal of time in any of them and he doubted they would be troubled.

As they left through the outer gate he looked back to the city briefly, They must get Tyrion to safety, he thought, Even if father believes me about the ring's magic it would be best for Tyrion to be elsewhere, outside of his reach or influence.

"I must say I can't believe the imp really tried to kill you," Marbrand interrupted his thoughts, "If my little brother tried that I wouldn't leave here without his head in a bag."

"He was driven to it by dark powers," Jaime said.

"Seems an easy excuse to make after the fact," Marbrand scoffed, "I'll give you this, after killing a few orcs I'm more open to believing some of these Gondorian fables, but that's no excuse for kinslaying. There are some lines a man just doesn't cross."

"Like Kingslaying?" Jaime asked bitterly.

Marbrand seemed uncomfortable, "Well that's different Ser Jaime, Aerys was mad. There were… extenuating circumstances."

"And there were here too," Jaime replied, "I'll speak no more of it until we see my father."

The two of them rode on for a time mostly in silence, days passed as they traveled south around the curve of the White Mountains. They avoided all but the smallest settlements, often stopping at lone farmhouses to purchase a loaf of bread or perhaps some jerky using Gondorian coppers that couldn't be traced back to a Lannister.

Jaime's thoughts again returned to his brother when they passed outside Pelargir, a large river port that seemed to be built into the water itself. The very streets were channels of from the Anduin that even from a distance he could see were being used by a number of small ships. This was the type of marvel that Tyrion would've diverted the entire party to see…

Perhaps one day I'll come here with him

, he thought, When all this is settled… when I've gotten him to forgive me and we've made amends. He turned his head away from the city and led Marbrand to a stone bridge that crossed the river Sirith, descending down from the mountains.

As they passed from Pelargir Jaime's thoughts turned dark, What if he never speaks to me again? What if… He cleared his mind, better to think of nothing than that. His horse stumbled and he felt a brief pain in his shoulder, though the wound was healing well it was another reminder of the betrayal that he and Tyrion had wrought upon one another.

After another few days of travel they saw the city of Dol Amroth on the horizon, he turned to Marbrand, "Ser Addam, I'm afraid the time has come for us to part ways."

"What?" Marbrand asked surprised, "Why?"

"Between Dol Amroth and the Tooth the lands are sparsely populated, if there is another party of assassins you must tell my father that we made it at least as far as Dol Amroth and out of the Steward's reach. By now there are ravens in the city and I'd have you take this," he produced a letter in his own hand and sealed in with a Lannister lion that he'd written before leaving Minas Tirith, "have it flown to my father and write one yourself confirming it's authenticity."

"Surely the letter serves as proof enough-"

"I must go alone ser Addam, only seeing me will stay my father's wrath, and if I cannot finish the journey or the letters fail to reach him you must stay here and stop him from razing this city."

Marbrand considered this, "Ser Jaime… I do not mean to be harsh but, well… Some knights learn the ways of foraging and survival and some knights become masters of the sword."

Jaime laughed at the implication, "Are you worried I'll starve?"

"Quite frankly I am more concerned you'll drink stagnant water and then die from dehydration after shitting your guts out somewhere," Addam replied sourly.

Jaime rolled his eyes, "Do as I command Ser Marbrand, I promise I won't drink any stagnant water."

After two days ride beyond Dol Amroth Jaime was beginning to regret the decision to split from Marbrand, where the other knight had laid a number of small snare traps around their camp every night Jaime was realizing he didn't know how to tie any of them. Another setback had come when he'd seen a number of berries growing on the side of the road. Although they looked appetizing he knew better than to eat them… unfortunately he'd tied his horse within a few feet of them and he woke to see the animal laying on the ground giving a soft moaning sound.

"Well isn't that just bloody great," He said angrily looking down at the creature. He looked in both directions and saw no one on the road. He sat back down for a minute and decided he would wait a few hours for his mount to recover.

Instead it just groaned loudly and panted, just when he was about to cut the poor animal's throat he saw a small party of men approaching on horseback. Most of them wore scaled mail and open helmets which framed their eyes. A white horse on a green background was painted upon their shields and the leader wore a dark red lacquered armor that could almost be that of the Lannister redcloaks if not for the spiraled patterns on it. They saw him and slowed their approach. The lead man dismounted.

"Hail stranger, do you come from Dol Amroth?" The man asked.

"There's not much else in that direction," Jaime said hesitantly, the fear of assassins was still with him. "Why do you ask?"

"I have been bidden to approach the city by the lords of the Westerlands to determine the truth of certain… rumors," he replied, "Does Dol Amroth prepare for war?"

Jaime cocked an eyebrow, "That's quite a question to ask a fellow traveler… As a Gondorian I don't know if I-"

"You are clearly from the Westerlands," the leader interrupted. He pointed to Jaime's horse, "No horse in middle earth will eat rochsbane berries, it seems those of your country haven't yet learned why." He dismounted and walked over to the beast which gave another low grunt, "He should be fine in a day or two and hopefully he won't make the same mistake again." He turned back to Jaime, "That simply leaves the question of why you lied to me."

Either they're really here on father's orders or they're likely to kill me all the same, Jaime thought, best to just get things out in the open.

"I am Jaime Lannister," he said suddenly, "It seems that in an attempt to goad our nations to war a rumor of my death was spread, but as you can see" he gestured to himself, "I'm quite alive and well."

The man snorted, "Alone on the side of the road with a sick horse is hardly well, I am Eomer, prince of Rohan and I have been bidden to see if Gondor prepares for war with your people." He looked at Jaime's rags and dirt covered hands, "I don't suppose you can offer some proof of your identity?"

"Prince Eomer of Rohan?" He asked skeptically, "I've heard the name but you seem awfully far from home."

"I've ten men who will agree I am who I say I am," Eomer said tersely, "what do you have?"

Jaime thought a moment and then with a flourish he unsheathed Brightroar causing several of the men to level spears at him, "Is this the sword of a common peasant?" He asked. The sword caught the light in an impressive manner showing off the many waving patterns in the Valyrian steel.

Eomer looked at it, "An impressive blade to be sure, but I've never seen Jaime Lannister's sword. Have you got anything else?"

I Should've made another stamped letter, he thought with annoyance, "Have you met my father?" he asked.

"I've met Tywin Lannister yes," Eomer replied, "What of him?"

"He's a humorless man who went out of his way to impress you upon your first meeting I'd gather. Since you're a prince I'd also guess he's embroiled you in some scheme relating to either your hand in marriage or the succession of your land. Am I far off?" His smug smile unnerved the prince.

Eomer was quiet for a moment, "I suppose you must have at least met Lord Tywin at some point… and you do have the Lannister look to you. We will bring you back and determine if you are the real Jaime Lannister." He gestured to one of his men to lead one of the spare horses forward, "I can give you one of my remounts, take that saddle off your other horse and ride with us."

He did so and they set off at a much greater pace than he'd been travelling at, he'd never ridden a war horse of this stamina before and he looked around amazed that all of the party's horses seemed to carry the armored men like they were nothing. Jaime was himself a skilled rider, but these men seemed to have been born in the saddle. Where he had expected the party to take another five days at least to reach the Golden Tooth they arrived in only three.

An army of perhaps twenty five to thirty thousand men had been gathered at the Golden Tooth for the second time in the span of a year, If nothing else I'm certain Lord Lefford is tired of hosting so many men, Jaime thought. Eomer raised his banner high, the white horse of Rohan fluttering in the breeze as the men approached. No need for this now, he thought, and threw back his hood. His hair was dirty and he had several days beard growth unshorn on his face, but the excited murmurs went up through the camp as he rode by anyways. He could see men running in every direction, They'll know I've returned, they'll know we are not at war with Gondor.

Finally he came to the Tooth itself, the great gate flew open and his father stood there, clade in his red armor with the golden roaring lions on his shoulders, a great crimson cape billowing behind him in the same wind that held the Rohan standard aloft. He should have been impressive, but he'd never looked so small to Jaime. He dismounted and walked to his father, who stumbled forward and embraced him in the first hug he could remember ever receiving from the man.

Suddenly as if realizing what he was doing Tywin broke the hug and coughed, "I am pleased to see you are alive and well Jaime. I received your letter but in these strange days seeing is believing."

"Lord Tywin," Eomer called, "I have returned your son to you and war has been averted. Let us discuss your proposal now in earnest."

Tywin nodded, "Stable your horses and meet me in at the gatehouse." He turned to Jaime, "You'll need to be present too, go wash your face and put on some proper clothing."

About a half hour later the three men met in the gatehouse which had been cleared of all othes, leaving them alone. A map had been arrayed on a table and Jaime could tell from the number of assembled chairs that his father had been holding his war councils here. He and Eomer took a seat across from the old lion.

"I believe that in light of these repeated attempts on your life retaliation against Mordor is warranted," Tywin began, "the only question is how we go about this and to what extent they shall be punished…" he pointed to Umbar, "the Corsair city is the most exposed target, though I would enjoy teaching this "Lord of the Minas Morgul" what happens to those who would play me for a fool."

"Lord Tywin," Eomer said, he paused as though not sure what to say, "Mordor fears no reprisals… I have slain many orcs and yet their leaders do not fear me, I have destroyed their foul nests root and stem but they think nothing of building more." He pointed to the Morgul Vale, "You wish to punish Sauron as you would an errant child, but one does not simply walk into Mord-"

"They tried to kill my eldest and they bewitched my youngest!" Tywin snapped, "If I allow this all the great houses and peoples of the world will know that the lion merely mewls instead of roars." He paused and breathed out slowly, "I will not let House Lannister fall into disrespect as my father did, I do not care if we need to murder thousands, tens of thousands! The Rains of Castamere could always use another verse."

Eomer sighed, "Lord Tywin… you seek to strike fear into a creature born of it. Sauron fears no living man, elf, or dwarf and even one such as you, who has built his family name on such cannot teach it to him."

Tywin glared at the prince for a time, "We will see…" he muttered. He turned to Jaime, "What has become of Tyrion? Magic or no he will face consequences for this betrayal."

"Father he was enchanted!" Jaime exclaimed, "you cannot punish him for being merely a man in the face of sorcery!"

"I have seen sorcery," Tywin said, "I have felt it's foul touch on my own mind and here I stand before you, unmarred by it. Why can Tyrion not say the same?"

"He has fled by now in any case," Jaime said angrily, "I made arrangements with the Wizard Gandalf for his protection."

"The Wizard?" Tywin growled, "Jaime the Wizards are no better than Sauron himself, I suspect they may even be in league with him." He looked with disgust at his son, "No doubt he played some trick on your mind as well."

"Lord Tywin," Eomer started, "whatever may be said of Saruman, Gandalf Greyhame has ever been a loyal friend to the people of Rohan."

Tywin rolled his eyes, "Both of you will one day grow out of the romanticism of youth. Let Tyrion go then, let him drink away his days in some gods forsaken corner of the earth, and let him take all Wizards with him."

He calmed himself and turned to Eomer, "Now I believe you had some arrangement with Kevan, what strategy do you believe would be best for establishing your uncle's regency?"

Eomer studied the map, "Most of the orcs and wargs enter Rohan from the West over the Fords of Isen, some come out of the Misty Mountains and sometimes human bandits come from Dunland to accompany them." He thought a moment, "If you could send a force of a few thousand men to hold the fords until such time as my cousin and I have dealt with Grima I believe the people of Rohan would be safe."

Tywin nodded, "You do not desire any direct support?"

Eomer shook his head, "This is a matter best settled by the men of Rohan. Grima's men follow him for the promise of quick reward, I believe most will abandon him when a true struggle presents itself."

"I am never so optimistic of any conflict," Tywin said curtly, "Go to Lord Leffort and have him give you at least a few thousand gold dragons. If most of Grima's men are sellswords it will be easier to buy them off rather than fight them." He looked at the map a moment, "I will order Lords Banefort, Westerling, and Marbrand to marshal their forces at the Banefort and await your raven. Tell the Maester in Edoras that Tywin Lannister sends his regards, he should cooperate fully." He paused, "Will your cousin Theodred support this plan?"

"If I counsel it he will," Eomer said confidently, "He knows as well as I that Grima cares not for Rohan, but only for gathering wealth, power," the prince grimaced, "and women…"

"It is settled then," Tywin said, "Return to your land and make the preparations."

Eomer nodded and left leaving Tywin and Jaime alone.

"So what else is in this for you?" Jaime asked, "Merely scouting a potential enemy… that doesn't warrant such an alliance does it?"

Tywin looked at him a moment before indulging in a rare chuckle, "Jaime, princess Eowyn of Rohan is the highest ranking unmarried woman of childbearing age in all of Middle Earth."

Jaime felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach, "And I father?"

Now his father's look was almost predatory, "The highest ranking unmarried man of course."