Council in Osgiliath
"You're staring at her again," Elboron's voice said in his mind, and Eldarion immediately snapped his eyes away from Neniel.
"I was not!"
"Funny how it's impossible to lie across this link, isn't it?"
Eldarion looked at Elboron sitting on the opposite side of the large table in his father's Council Room in Osgiliath. The other man was smirking, and Eldarion scowled.
"This isn't funny," he said, eying him.
"Oh, I quite disagree. Much more interesting than this Council at least."
Eldarion rolled his eyes and looked away, trying to block him out as best he could and concentrate on what was going on. The Council was the largest one he had ever been in, including the one in Minas Tirith a few weeks ago. Every lord of Gondor or Rohan was here, along with representatives from Hobbits (in the form of Sam, Pippin and Merry), the Dwarves and Men of Erebor and Dale (in the form of Gimli) and the Elves (in the form of Legolas and his contingent). Eldarion did not know half the people in this room by name, nor did he wish to. Those who had not been privy to the goings on of the first Council, or not in the king's Company in the army needed to be filled in, and so the first hour of this Council had simply been a recollection of the war so far, and he had lost interest rapidly. He was mightily sick of all the stares he had been receiving. His part had been over fairly quickly. He and Elboron had related all that had happened between them since their very first visions right up until they had been reunited in Ithilien. Both had had a rapturous audience as they related their mental link and its uses, the foulness of Celegorm and Curufin and the dreadful prophecy they described, and the hobbits had listened intently, their eyes aglow as he had recounted his escape from Mordor. Aside from a few questions, the focus had shifted from him and onto the latest news from Rohan and Gondor and the Orc attacks which had resumed in full force. Eldarion had already heard most of this from his father, and so drifted in his attention.
As Elboron had noticed, his eyes had more than once strayed towards Neniel, who sat between her father and his royal advisor, Arveldir. She looked fairer than he had yet seen her, the horror of her captivity already beginning to fade, such was the resilience of the elves. Only the smallest trace remained, and it was buried deep within her mind, only revealed in partial form to himself the previous evening. She had not looked at him the whole meeting, listening intently to all that had happened since her capture, and he knew from the link that her curiosity was bountiful. For the first time she had heard all that there was concerning the mental link between them. She was enraptured. His eyes flicked towards her once more.
"You're doing it again."
"Stay out of my mind!" Eldarion scowled, shooting his friend a death glare which only earned him another smirk.
"I would like to hear from you, Arveldir," his father was saying now, bringing back Eldarion's attention. He looked towards the elven advisor. "You are the only one here born in the First Age. Is there anything you can tell us about the Fëarnorians?"
"I only saw them from afar," Arveldir said, eyes lost in memory. "But the terrible deeds they committed live with me to this day. The Kinslaying in Doriath was a dark day and it scattered our people. It was then I first left Beleriand and settled with the Silvan Elves in Mirkwood. I know of no way I can be of use to you except testify to their cruelty."
"What think you of this prophecy?" King Éomer asked. "It was made by Maglor, one of Fëanor's other sons. Can it be trusted?"
"I believe so," Arveldir said with a glance to the three youths. "He was well known for being blessed by Lórien with the gift of foresight. He is the only one of the Fëarnorians believed to still live. He was driven mad by the pain of the Silmaril as it burned his hand and he cast it into the sea on the edge of the world. We believe he is there still, insane with the knowledge of the evil he committed."
"This prophecy disturbs me greatly," Legolas said, looking at his daughter. "The thought of the destruction of the world itself for such an aim is abhorrent. And the means by which it is to be done …"
"The draining of our blood you mean," Eldarion thought dully. "Try being part of the prophecy itself."
"It doesn't mention draining though," Elboron said. "Not specifically at least."
"That's true," Eldarion said, and then jumped as everyone turned to stare at him.
"What's true?" his father asked, frowning.
"I… I- uh," he stammered, feeling the gaze of so many nobles boring into him. He turned to look at Elboron whose eyes had gone wide. "You- you didn't say that out loud did you?"
Elboron shook his head, looking down at the table. "Nope."
Eldarion groaned. "Oops."
"What did you say, Elboron?" Faramir asked, a note of concern in his voice. He evidently was still unnerved by their link.
"I- I said that the prophecy doesn't specifically mention draining our blood," he replied, a little flustered.
"Who mentioned anything about draining blood?" Pippin asked, face going white.
"Eldarion did," Elboron said, confused. He looked at Eldarion then and it dawned on him. "You didn't say that out loud, did you?"
It was now Eldarion's turn to shake his head. Everyone was staring. His father appeared stern as he looked at the two of them.
"Am I right in understanding that the two of you are having a private conversation whilst we are debating the future of civilisation?"
His face was thunderous, and Eldarion grew nervous, which dissipated immediately when Neniel suddenly burst out laughing. Her father turned to her in alarm.
"Are you party to this conversation as well?"
She ceased laughing for a moment. "No," she admitted, "but I can sense what they're feeling now. They're mortified!"
Eldarion barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Well, if he hadn't been before he was now.
"I'm sorry, father," Eldarion said, and Elboron nodded. "It wasn't intentional." At least not that time.
His father shook his head. "This disturbs me," he said. "That the two of you could lapse into mental conversation unawares. I fear this link between your minds. We still do not know its true purpose."
"It has done nothing but help us, father."
"The sharing of mortal injuries is help?" he countered. "True it has come in useful, but we must be cautious. This prophecy and this bond are linked, whether for the benefit of us or our Enemy we cannot yet say. I do not think you should use it."
"But we need to!" Eldarion protested. "It has helped more than hindered. It may be the key to defeating our Enemy."
"Perhaps, but this dabbling in magic cannot go on," the king said. "Not until we know more. It has already proven dangerous."
"Then what do you suggest?" Faramir asked, glancing at his son. "That they separate entirely and resist the urge to use it?"
"That is easier said than done," Elboron said then. "It is so natural to me now that I use it at all times. I'm not even always aware of it, as just now. I can sense something now at all times, from Eldarion or from Neniel, or even this boy from Dale, though only while asleep."
"We've been working on blocking it," Eldarion said, "but we cannot do so for long. Father, I think we should not try to suppress this link but try to understand it further. It is the only way we shall begin to understand it. We will be careful, and our trials will no longer be secret. If you wish it, we shall cease trying in using magic until such times as you think it wise."
"Fair compromise, lad," Gimli said, puffing on his pipe. "Can't say it pleases me to think of such things, but we cannot go into this fully blind."
"I agree." His father spoke heavily. "Very well, but you shall both be monitored at all times during the time you are exploring this link. In the meantime, I shall have Orthanc reopened and its archives searched for anything similar in Saruman's histories to aid us, as well as the stores of Minas Tirith. Perhaps there is precedent."
"There are other elves from the First Age remaining yet in Mirkwood," Arveldir said. "Perhaps amongst their lore they may have information to share with us."
"It seems we all must separate," the king said then. "Each to our own lands to deal with the threat as best we can. We will search for answers in Gondor and Rohan, holding back the armies of Mordor while we do so while Legolas and his kin return home to search for their own answers. Gimli must go to Dale immediately and inform King Bard and King Thorin of what has occurred here and make immediate plans to protect young prince Bain. Sam, Merry and Pippin should also return to the Shire for I fear that although you have no royals, orcs may attack to draw out other allies."
He paused, fixing them all with a determined stare. "In exactly two months we will reconvene and discuss where we are now with this fight. Hopefully then we will understand more about what must be done to triumph over this evil. Until then, we will defend our lands, and above all our royal heirs. They must not be retaken. We may not know much, but that at least will spell our doom."
"We can meet at Mirkwood," Legolas said. "It is there that lives the only memory of Fëanor's sons while living, and the greatest of the lore of the First Age and earlier."
"Very well, two new moons from now in Mirkwood," his father said. "This council and their respective contingents will meet there with the Elvenking and his own advisors. The King under the Mountain and King of Dale should also meet us there."
The meeting now lapsed into complicated conversations about arrangements for their rendezvous, patrols across bordering lands and the like, and again, Eldarion found his concentration lapsing. A numbness was growing within him. Somehow, he'd expected this Council to lessen his burdens instead of increasing them. Still they had no idea why the four young royals possessed this unique link, or what they were supposed to do to defend Middle Earth. He was impatient for action, sick of all this talk and sitting around. The thought of waiting two months to perhaps find out what to do was repellent.
His eyes fell upon Neniel then, who also had abandoned her attention in order to stare at the tapestry on the opposite wall. She would be leaving soon. For some reason, the thought of not seeing her for two months was even more unpleasant.
The time of their departure came too quickly for Eldarion. Elves travelled lightly and preferred making journeys by twilight, and so they had prepared quickly and were ready to depart on the very night of the Council. They gathered in one large group on the bridge of Osgiliath, horses stamping and breath misting in the cold air. Eldarion, his father and a few other advisors had just bidden them farewell and were now waiting for them to depart.
Eldarion's eye fell on Neniel, who was perched lightly on a mare in the midst of twenty warriors with sharp swords and all carrying flaming torches. Legolas was taking no chances that Neniel be taken once more. They would ride as hard as they could back north through both night and day despite the dangers until in the sanctuary of the palace in Mirkwood. Some Elvish magic would prevent their bodies needing sleep no doubt, and some secret words whispered in the ears of their horses would sustain them, or so Eldarion believed. He had very little understanding of elves, despite being the son of one. He'd had precious little to do with them till now.
"Do you think they'll get home safely?" Eldarion asked his father as they mounted their horses and began to depart.
"I believe so," his father answered. "They were caught unawares last time. Now they are prepared."
"Good," Eldarion murmured, watching Neniel ride further away, now a light dot in the darkness. He could still sense her from this distance, her brightness, her joyfulness undimmed by her experiences.
It appeared his father had noticed where his eyes fell.
"This link between Elboron, Neniel and yourself disturbs me for another reason, Eldarion," his father said, hesitantly. "I worry it may … confuse you."
"What do you mean?"
His father sighed, and motioned for his son to walk with him. Eldarion fell into step, worried at the turn the conversation was taking.
"Neniel and yourself experienced something terrible," his father said, "and there is no doubt that you bonded. But … I need you to remember and maintain your boundaries, despite this link."
"Boundaries?" Eldarion asked. "With Neniel? What are you implying?"
"I found both of you out alone after dark in a private garden," his father said. "Innocent it may have been, but I want you to be careful. Some may read more into it than there is. Including yourself."
Eldarion felt himself flush pink, and stared at the ground. He was glad Elboron was not around to hear this. His father stopped suddenly and turned to him, his face worried.
"Promise me, Eldarion, that you will no longer keep secrets from me," he said, "not with regards to this affair. If you and Elboron must continue with this, you do it with the understanding you will share what you learn with me. I do not want a repeat of what happened at the camp."
"Nor do I," Eldarion said. He hesitated, and shuffled his feet. "I'm sorry, adar," he said. "Such concealment was beneath me. I promise to never keep anything from you again."
His father lifted his chin with his finger and smiled at him, a glint in his eye. "Thank you," he said, "you are more than forgiven. But do not be so hasty. You are twenty years old, Eldarion. It would not be normal if you did not have some secrets from your father."
Eldarion laughed, and they resumed their walk. "Did you keep secrets from Lord Elrond?"
"Most assuredly," his father replied, chuckling at the memory. "Though considering that the principal secret was that I had fallen in love with his daughter one can forgive me for not being more open."
They laughed together and continued on into the Great Hall. Before entering, Eldarion paused and looked back over his shoulder where the elves had now vanished entirely from sight.
"Until we meet again, Lalaith," he said.
A moment later he experienced a warm glow of recognition sweeping through his mind. He wondered if that meant she had heard him.