"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes; a fool, but an honest fool he remains. Wiser ones might have done worse in such a pass.' Gandalf turnd to the others. 'He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring."
Gimli sighed with relief, as did the others. Thennil stood next to the hobbits, a comforting hand on Pippin's shoulder as Gandalf continued to talk. She could feel the hobbits discomfort as she shifted beneath the harsh gaze of the wizard. She pitied the halfling, his curiosity and the pull of Sauron through the palatir to strong for his will.
"If he had been questioned again, then and there, he would have almost certainly told all, to the ruin of Middle Earth.' The wizard turned to Theoden, stroking his long white beard. 'We've been strangely fortunate. What Pippin saw in the Palantir was a glimpse of our enemy's plan."
The others all watched Gandalf as he walked back and forth. "Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing...' he turned to Aragorn and glanced over at Thennil, voice full of warning. 'The heir of Elendeil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed, and the elves have started to return to their homes. There is courage still-strength enough left to challenge him."
Theoden listened intently, saying nothing as he pondered these things. His eyes flickered to each of those standing around the community fire in the center of his hall, looking for each of their reactions to the wizards words.
"Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle-earth uniting under one banner again. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees the return of the King."
He then turned to Aragorn, and produced from his robes the palantir. "Will you, Aragorn, take the Orthanc-stone and guard it? It is a dangerous charge."
Thennil watched as Aragorn approached the wizard. "Dangerous indeed, but not to all. There is one who may claim it by right. For this is assuredly the planter of Orthanc from the treasury of Elendil, set here by the Kings of Gondor. Now my hour draws near. I will take it."
Now, the palatir came from beyond the Westernesse, from Eldamar. The Noldor made them. Feanor himself had been rumored to have wrought them, in days so long ago that the time could not be measured in years. The men of old used them to see far off, and to converse in thought with one another. It was in that way that they long guarded and united the realm of Gondor. They set up Stones at Minas Anor, and Minas Ithil, and at Orthanc in the ring of Isengard. The chief and master of these stones was under the Dome of Stars at Osigilath before its ruin. The three others were far away in the North. But through time they disappeared, or were lost. One Gandalf was sure had been taken from Minas Ithil, whose name had been changed to Minas Morgul, by Sauron when he overthrew the city centuries past. Somehow Saruman had been using the Stone to look farther and farther out, flickering images appearing in his mind, only to be caught by Sauron, and his mind and ways twisted.
It was then, in great surprise to those about them, mostly to Theoden, the hobbits and her two other companions, that Gandalf bowed before Aragorn, lifting the covered Stone, and presented it.
"Receive it, lord,' he said: 'in earnest of other things that shall be given back. But if I may counsel you in the use of your own, do not us it-yet! Be wary!"
"When have I been hasty or unwary, who have waited preparing for so many long years?" said Aragorn, trying not to cringe at the rebuking look that Thennil sent him from across the room.
Gandalf turned back to Theoden, "If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war!"
Theoden held the wizards gaze, but his neck was stiff. "Tell me. Why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours?"
Thennil glared at the king, angered that he would discard the friendships that he had built so suddenly.
"What do we owe Gondor?' continued the king, anger evident in his voice.
"I will go,' she heard Aragorn whisper, low and urgent.
"No!" cried Gandalf urgently.
"Then I shall go,' Thennil said, stepping forward. She was already dressed for travel, sword at her belt, quiver at her back.
"No,' the wizard said, 'no."
"And why not?" she asked, hand straying to her hip. 'I know people there, many people who would hopefully listen to me! I can go!"
"They must be warned!"
"They will be.' the wizard crept up to the two of them, his eye flicking betwixt them. 'You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river, loo to the black ships.' He turned to the others, voice growing louder so the others could hear. 'Understand this, things are now in motion that cannot be undone."
Thennil glared at the wizard, noticing him glancing over to Pippin, 'Gandalf..."
"I ride for Minas Tirith! And I won't be going alone!"
Thennil managed to let Gandalf let her have a few minutes with Pippin, even sequestering him away from Merry for a short time. She hurried him into their room, shutting the door and pausing. Taking a deep breath, she turned to him, a sad smile on her face. He stood by the window, looking out on the city. His face was forlorn, miserable. He leaned against the sill, barely able to look over it, like a small child. Walking over to him, she laid her hand on one shoulder, comforting.
He stood there, peering out, a deep sorrow welling up within him.
"Why did you look?' she asked gently.
He slammed his fist down onto the sill, making the shutters quiver, growling. "I don't know. I can't help it!"
She combed her fingers through his hair gently. She could feel the fear coming off him, could smell it like a hound smells the fox.
"I don't know why I'm always so curious,' he grumbled. 'I just see something, and have to touch it, most of the time it gets me in trouble. You would think that I would have learned by now."
He sighed, looking up at her with his big eyes.
"Don't dwell on what you did wrong, Pippin, instead focus on what to do next. Spend your energy finding the answer."
He shook his head, 'Will I be able to fix it though?"
"Maybe not now, at this moment, but you can start where you are now and try to change the ending."
He nodded, and began to walk to the door, hearing Gandalf shouting in the hall. He had put his hand on the handle, and was about to turn it when he whipped around and rushed back across the room, flinging his short arms around her and hugging her tightly. The hobbit didn't sob, but she wash sure that he had shed a few tears onto her tunic.
"Thank you so much, Thennil,' came his muffled voice as he pressed his face into her stomach.
She leaned down and smiled at him as he rubbed his red face. "You're welcome, my dear little friend. May the spirits of the Valar be with you."
He nodded, and bolted out of the room as Gandalf's voice grew louder in frustration.
Walking down the stairs of Edoras, she watched as Gandalf hurried into the stable, Pippin and Merry following along behind. Her heart was in agony as she watched the duo burst forth from the stables on Shadowfax, thundering out of the capital. Like a beacon of light, they galloped over the plain. Merry bolted from the stables, rushing up into one of the watchtowers, Aragorn not far behind him. From her perch atop the hill, she was able to see Shadowfax running away with the wind chasing his heels, till they were but a speck on the horizon, then gone.
And so the days of waiting began.
Far away over the many mountains and through many hills and valleys rode another group of people. This group rode much slower, and there was many songs that they sung, and music that they played. Tall they were, and fair of face, for these were the elven folk, the people of Imladris, Lothlorien, and Mirkwood. They travelled to the sea, and across it to Aman. Around them rose tall pines, the scent of their needles permitting the air with each hoof that stepped upon them.
The elves were dressed in many forms of clothing, some wearing traveling gear while other's wore normal day clothes like they did within their many cities and settlements. Many of their spirits were heavy, feeling the effects of slowly fading away. It was to Arwen's amazement that they met many elves returning from the harbors, singing songs of love for their land, their spirits renewed. It was unlike anything that she had ever seen before. Never before had the elves returned, the groups always sailed across the sea, far into the mists of the west. They brought stories of dreams, visions, and renewal from the Valar that were astonishing to all that heard them. And so the groups had passed them by, returning to the homes they once inhabited with renewed vigor and hope.
And yet, those who still travelled with her walked on towards the Havens, unchanged. She had seen a few of them talking with those who stayed with them when they camped every night, asking about the changes, but most assumed that they were to old, or that the sea's call was too strong. The further they travelled from her father's house the more she doubted her decision. Her father had ordered that she be taken by the safest road to a ship that lay in anchor in the Grey Havens. There it waited to take her across the sea, much like her mother's had; the last journey of Arwen Undomiel.
She guided her horse along, nudging him with her knee now and again to keep him walking quick enough so that he wouldn't slow those walking around them down. Her eyes were draw to the trees, and the soft breeze the blew through their branches, rattling the needles. The ferns bobbed up and down to their own rhythm, and the birds twittered as they flew. Then across the path ran a small child who didn't look to be older than six or seven. She paused, intrigued and watched as he stumbled and fell, only to rise again, the trees began to thin and instead he was skipping through a pillared corridor. One had hair dark like rich earth, and the other's glowed like the sun. He paused, looking back quickly and giggling mischievously. The architecture was great; white as snow with arches and pillars of amazing proportions. At the edge of the corridor a silhouette appeared, dark against the light that streamed through the open balcony. Turning, the boy ran to the figure. The man, for that is what she assumed him to be, opened his arms to the boy, swinging the laughing child into the air with a shout. As the man turned with the boy, she gasped.
It was Aragorn. Not as she was used to seeing him, dressed in his ranger's garments, or even elven gear like he wore in her father's house, but in the finery of men. There were a few silver hairs in his beard and one or two light streaks of grey in his hair, but he looked only a little older than when she had last seen him. He kissed the child in his arms, and she inhaled sharply, tears coming to her eyes as she got a better look at the boy's face. He had his father's strong chin, and dark wavy hair, gleaming like the sun upon his breast rested the morning star. His eyes and cheekbones were that of one she held dear to her heart, yet had pulled away from as the years had passed after their mother's parting. Thennil.
From the shadows of another corridor came her sister, dressed in silver, her wild red hair somewhat tamed into a simple bun at the nape of her neck. At her skirts were two more children, both with bright hair and their father's stormy blue eyes. Their ears were pointed but slightly and they reminded her of her elder brothers, such was the mischievous look in their eyes. Thennil guided them onto the balcony with one hand, in her other arm rested a bundle. Setting the boy down, Aragorn hurried over to Thennil, kissing her on the lips before turning to the infant in her arms, brushing a rough finger over the child's tuft of curls. The group looked up at her, suddenly becoming forlorn, a sadness etched on their faces.
Then they were gone, and she was in a room opening out into a great forest. At one end a tall figure stood, his shoulders strong and broad for an Elf. His hair was braided back in warriors braids, and on his back was a bow. He turned, and she saw that in his arms he held a delicate child. The babe's face was pale as snow, it's hair as dark as night, and when she opened her eyes, they were a pale sky blue. Reaching up the girl snagged one of the braids and tugged at it, eliciting a chuckle from her holder.
She closed her eyes at the scene, her heart aching as the image of the babe imprinted into her mind. Tears slipped down her face, like small diamonds of pure sorrow. Opening them, she expected to see the Elf, but there was no one there. Her father's words echoed in her mind: "There is nothing for you here, only death."
"Lady Arwen?' a voice called to her, and she turned to see Figwit standing before her horse. 'We cannot delay."
Kicking her horse in the side, she wheeled around, galloping in the opposite direction.
"My Lady!?" cried Figwit, panicked.
Arwen galloped through the gates, entering the courtyard that housed the stables. Dismounting, she quickly handed the reigns off to one of the elves, of which she was sure had left for the West. She hurried through the halls, pulling off her hood as she went. Her steps were full of purpose, determination. As she ran down the steps into her mother's garden and beyond, her anger, and hope grew. Flying along the paths, she came to her father's balcony. Untying her cloak, she let it flutter to the ground as she sped gracefully up the steps.
"Tell me what you have seen!" she demanded, climbing up more of the stairs.
"Arwen,' her father murmured, stunned to see her.
"You have the gift of foresight- what did you see?" she pleaded, standing before him.
His face hardened, and he gritted his teeth. "I looked int your future and I saw death."
"And what of Thennil? What did you see in her future?" she asked, pleading.
"Death! So much death!' he thundered, looking past her to where a lute lay against the wall of the inner room. 'I saw her body lying among the dead on a battlefield, the life in her eyes drained out of her, and her smile twisted in pain before her final moment."
"But there is also life." she stated, firm in her belief.
He began to turn away, his eyes falling on his wife's garden. She followed him as he walked further onto his balcony.
"You saw that there was a child...' she stated, hair swishing around her, 'and not just my own daughter. Thennil's son!"
Her father stared into space for a few moments, the fight slowly leaving him, and she saw a man so full of exhaustion and sorrow which she had never seen before. His shoulders sagged, and one of his arms hung limp at his side while the other grasped onto the table with little strength. He closed his eyes, coming to lean on the railing, looking down at the ground below them.
"That future is almost gone,' he whispered quietly, sadness seeping into his voice.
"But is not lost...' she argued.
He slumped into his chair, not focused on anything. "Nothing is certain."
"Somethings are certain, but when things are not, anything is possible. If I leave now, abandon what she has started and the love that I have not yet known, but long for, I will regret it forever.' she stated, taking her father's face in her hands. She looked deep into his eyes, baring her heart before him through their fea. 'Ada, it is time."
She sat before one of the grates in the lower town of Edoras. Beside her was Gimli, smoking his pipe, using up the last of the long bottom leaf that he had gotten from the barrel's in Isengard. He puffed slowly, staring out into the night as the watched the plains together. A needle sat in her hand, it's string trailing down to the garment in her other palm. She had pilfered all the torn and rent clothing from among their packs, piling it beside her waiting to be mended. In and out the needle flew, sewing up the long tears in the fabric. She chuckled as she came across yet another hole in Gimli's trousers, there were many. He huffed at her, rolling his eyes as she blew a large smoke ring into the air to join the fire's smoke.
Around them the people still moved about, lamps hanging from the houses here and there to light their way. Children ran and played in the grass around their homes, their laughter finally to be heard after such a long silence. Gimli chuckled at the boys antics, wrestling and fighting like their sires, wooden swords in their belts and round shields in their hands as they yelled and hollered loudly. A few had sticks with sewn horse heads attached to the top and rode them around the road, racing one another.
Many of the girls had gathered close to their fire, chattering to one another. In their arms they held their rag dolls or ponies, while those who were older wove flower chains for one another, placing the crowns upon their heads. A few of the younger ones wandered over to her, petting her hair and combing through it with their short stubby fingers. They giggled and laughed, the older girls joining in as they worked over her hair, twisting it this way and that before braiding it. They tugged at her long locks, brushing through them as they tied it off at the end with a leather strap.
Sitting back, she snatched up one of the littler girls, her straw colored hair curling up around her ears. She turned to the other girls, eyebrow raised. "So what must I give in payment for this lovely hair-do?"
"Sweets!"
"Could we try out your sword?"
"A ride on your horse!"
They all clamored, nearly malling her as they flew up to her, pulling on this shoulder or that sleeve. From her lap came the lasses small, babyish voice. "What 'bout a story?"
The others caught the word, eye growing large as they plopped down wherever they stood. "A story! A story! A story!"
Chuckling, she hushed them with her hand. "A story it is then."
They slowly began to quiet down, leaning forward on their elbows with anticipation. So she began.
"One, a long time ago, in a land far, far away-
"Like in Harad?' asked one of the girls, a proud grin on her face at her knowledge of the world.
"Yes, in Far Harad, actually,' Thennil improvised. 'There lived a in a village a girl named Muni. Now, Muni's father was a retired warrior, renown among his people. He had come home wounded, and sick from the fighting. He was to old to fight, but not to old to teach his daughter how to ride a desert horse and use a scimitar. The girls of her village seldomly learned these skills unless they were chosen by the council, but Muni's father believed that everyone should know how to fight and defend what was their own from the bandits and other tribes.
'One day as she was washing clothes in the river of their oasis, she heard the pounding of-
"What's an oasis?"
Thennil paused, trying to pull up an image from the past in her mind. She had only gone a little ways south of Gondor in her exploration when she was young, and had only ever heard descriptions of what an oasis looked like. "Well, it is in the middle of a very dry place, with a lot of sand, and normally around a water source, like the river in our story. There are trees there, though nothing like you have in Rohan, Gondor, or even Lothlorien. Imagine a lot of green grass and trees in the middle of a sea of very, very small pebbles that reflects the sun."
The children nodded, some laying on their bellies.
"Now, Muni heard the pounding of hooves, and saw the flags of her tribe flying in the breeze, tall and red against the white of the sand. Tossing the washed clothes into her basket, she carried it upon her head into the middle of their village market place where the visitors stopped. There in the center of the square was a list of all the families saying that from each one a man must be sent to join the army that their chief was building.
'Muni knew that her father would not survive another battle, and so that night she stole into his room and took his armor. She disguised herself as a man, wearing her hair in the braided style of her people, a turban on her head. The next day she reported for duty under her families name. Though the warriors thought her a lousy addition to the army, they soon found that she was not as naive as they had thought.
'Later, as the men taken from the village to join the army left, riding their horses, Muni's father stood by the edge of the road looking each of them over in puzzlement. He had gone and reported to his post, but was refused, the warden saying that they had already received a man from his family. Muni spent the next many years carefully nurturing her character, earning badges of honor and bravery for all of her hard work in the army. Along the way she fell in love with one of the generals, and eventually revealed her true self to him."
All the girls sighed, while the boys, who had slowly trickled over to their group gagged.
"Now, though she became renowned among their people, she never received a reward from their chief, only asking to be sent home to her family. The chief of their tribe argued against this, and awarded her a bag of gold and jewels along with quite a few fine horses. When she arrived home, she was told by the villagers that her father had passed on. In her grief, she threw aside her treasures, and took to the dunes with her lover. It is said that to this day she roams the sands, crying and moaning for the time that she lost with her father, yet laughing and celebrating in the love that she found with her husband and children.
'The end."
The children clapped, and hopped up to throw their arms around her. She drew them in, holding them tightly as they squirmed in her arms. She tickled a few of them before ushering them off towards their mother's skirts. Leaning back, she looked into the fire, eyes glazing over.
Then she was standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the sky turn red like blood. Bodies piled up around her, twisted and beaten, and she tried to get away, but only tripped. Images flashed through her mind, portions of her life flickering behind her eyelids. Battles she fought, people she saved, children she had watched grow into adults, time passing her by, until it stopped with a horrible pain in her chest, and her sapphire blue's flew open, her hand grasping at her chest.
She breathed hard, closing her eyes, trying to get rid of the images that seemed to have burnt itself to the backs of her lids. Standing, she hurried off into the dark shadows of the city, abandoning Gimli to his pipe and the fire in the grate. She wandered the roads, her eyes able to see in the pale starlight as she pondered the meaning of her dreams, haunted.
Thennil crouched in the garden's of Edoras, the sun filtering through the lattice work overhead. Her heart beat slowly, sometimes stuttering, sometimes beating strongly. Rays of light shown down onto her knife and whetstone as she sharpened her blades. She had them all laid out before her uniformly in the new grass. Humming softly, she ran the stone over the edge of the blade over and over again until it was sharp enough to cut through the toughest of leathers. It was methodic, and relaxing as they minutes ticked by.
Soft footsteps interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up. She was surprised to see Legolas, creeping through the bushes and vines that spanned the garden. Sitting up, she smiled, waving to him as he moved towards her. She stood, but wavered, her knees weakening as she fought to catch her breath, spots dancing before her eyes. The blade slipped from her long fingers and flipped end over end until it stabbed into the ground up to the hilt. She teetered, becoming more lightheaded and dizzy by the second, her surroundings blurring together as she toppled.
It felt like an age as she crumbled, her knees giving out, the weight of her body falling towards the earth, images spinning before her eyes.
"Thennil!" Legolas cried out, catching her just before she hit the ground.
He righted her, sitting her on the bench, and pulling his flask of water from his side, had her drink a few sips. Once the water was down, she leaned forward, head between her hands as she tried to center herself. He rubbed her back, peppering her with question after question. Before her he started to pace back and forth in worry, naming any types of ailments that elves were able to contract from humans, which was practically none.
"Legolas!' she shouted firmly, glaring up at him and silencing him with her hand. 'Enough!"
He knelt before her, taking her hand in his. He shuddered, almost retracting it. "You-you feel-you feel-
"Like I'm dying.' she said, looking down at their joined hands. 'Because I am."
"That's not possible, you'd have to be fading,' he stated, feeling the life-force of her fea being sucked away. 'But you're not, I know what it feels like, I have held the hand of a fading elf before, and this,' he motioned to her hand, 'is different. Like you're being drained away."
She smiled sadly.
He stiffened. "No."
"I was never meant to live this long,' she said, smiling, though it was more of a grimace.
"No."
"I saw it in a vision when I was young, pictures flashing across my eyes, places, things, battles, but it ended with a knife sticking out of my chest,' she said.
"What about Aragorn? Does he know?' he asked, and she looked down at the grass, unable to meet his eyes. 'He doesn't, does he?"
"No,' she said, looking up with a hardened face, 'And you will not tell him."
"So you plan on telling him?' he pushed.
"No, I'm sure that he will realize with time. Or I'll be killed in battle,' she muttered.
He clasped her hand in his, 'Thennil, you cannot do this, it would ruin him."
"How can I tell him that I'm dying?' she asked, "How can I tell him that everything that he hoped for, that we hoped for, is just a dream?"
Tears began to slip down her face. 'Do you realize that if I tell him, that part of the reason he is even doing the things he is doing, is because my father said that he would never be able to marry me unless he was worthy. He sees this as making him worthy."
Legolas brushed a thumb over her cheek, the tears sliding down between his fingers, "Even if you did die, he would still say it was worth it. That it was worth the time that he spent with you."
"I'm not dead yet,' she whispered, leaning into his shoulder, shuddering as another spasm racked through her body. 'I'm a spirit with a beating heart."
A cool breeze began to blow, swirling around them, causing the leaves of last year to be caught up in the wind. Her hair blew wildly about her, as tears streamed down her face. Her eyes drifted up to the sky, clear of any clouds. Her mournful voice carried over the breeze like a sigh.
"There's no time for us,
There's no place for us,
What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us?
Who wants to live forever? Who wants to live forever?
There's no chance for us.
It's all decided for us.
This world has only for one sweet moment set aside for us.
Who wants to live forever? Who dares to live forever?
When love must die?
You've touched my tears with your lips,
You've touched my world with your fingertips,
You've touched my heart with you love,
And we could have lived forever!
We could have lived forever.
Forever was our today.
Who wants to live forever? Who wants to live forever?
Forever is ours,
Today."
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I've very excited, and sad at the same time to say that I only have a few chapters left to write. I'm hoping to end the book at about 65 actual chapters, which may or may not lead into another book about one of the female characters that I've introduced...
So, keep an eye out! And please review! Reviews are like life for my story.
Also, I'm looking for suggestions for ideas for how to draw Aragorn and Thennil closer, so please comment and let me know what you would like to see.
Love ya all!
Robin
