Aragorn grabbed his pack and haphazardly stuffed it with what he would need for the trip to Pelargir; breeches, shirts, a water-proofed coat. Only the bare minimum would suffice. It would not be a comfortable ride if they intended to reach Pelargir this day, and they would have to push both horses and riders to their limits. Yet what choice did they have?
The door opened and Elladan snuck back inside, now wearing clothes more suited to a day's worth of riding. He wore his sword and long knives at his side and had a small sack slung over one shoulder.
Aragorn tied his own bag closed, then quickly crossed the room to a shelf at the sidewall. Getting a sheet of parchment and a piece of charcoal, he beckoned his brothers to join him at the small table.
"Here," he drew a roughly circular base on the parchment even as he spoke, turning to Elrohir, "is the base of the tower. You know the Tower Hall down here, and the main stairway to the upper levels. But there is a smaller stairwell that runs up into the tower all the way from down here, from the soldier's quarters. Follow this path here," he hastily drew his own quarters onto the map, somewhere left and below the Tower of Ecthelion and a path leading back towards the tower, "and you will reach the lower door. The stairway extends down towards the dungeons and then climbs steeply up into the tower. It has access doors for servants on nearly every level and runs almost to the top. Only the highest levels need to be accessed through the central staircase."
He blew away the dusting of charcoal on the paper then handed it over to Elrohir. It would smudge with use, but it was better than nothing and the best he could do with the little time they had.
"And Elrohir," he added, "be careful. The men of Minas Tirith are no orcs, but they do not take kindly to intruders. Be especially wary of the second company of the tower. Their captain, Balsarion – there is something … wrong about him, a feeling of ill intent. His men are little better. You will know their company by the black raven on their helmets."
Elrohir nodded, quickly absorbing the information. He drew Aragorn into a quick hug. "You take care as well little brother," he said, then added a smidge louder, "and watch out for Elladan for me. Who knows what trouble he will find without me."
Aragorn grinned at hearing the well-worn tease, but despite the levity of the farewells, the three sons of Elrond were all too aware of the danger that would await them on each of their chosen paths. Elladan and Elrohir embraced silently, no words needed to be spoken between them that they did not already carry in their hearts.
He wondered again at the wisdom of their splitting up, at the possible danger, but ultimately the choice had been theirs. He wished also that there had been more time to prepare, time to plan for what lay ahead, but again, there was none. For better or for worse their missions were in motion, each as pressing as the other, and all they could do was to weather the storm and see them through to the end.
Elladan joined him by the door and they left, leaving Elrohir bent over the sketch of the citadel paths as they made their way to the stables.
-o0o-
"We will need to change horses at the crossing of the Erui," Aragorn explained. "We have a well-stocked waystation there and should not lose much time."
"Surely Mithelef could cover the whole distance to Pelargir and match the pace of Gondor's steeds, regardless?" Elladan asked. He was referring to the silver stallion Aragorn had been given as a gift of farewell by his brothers when he had left Rivendell, now more than ten years ago.
Aragorn tried to hide a wince at that particular question, but Elladan must have seen the look of discomfort that crossed his face, for he looked at him searchingly, "Aragorn?"
He sighed. "I left Mithelef in Rohan," he admitted. Elladan looked at him in disbelief and he hurried to explain: "The king offered me his finest horse in thanks for my years of service. I could not refuse him, Elladan."
Elladan was silent for a long time and Aragorn feared what he might say, but when he spoke Elladan's voice held no reprimand, rather a grim respect for the king of Rohan. His hair moved from side to side as he shook his head. "Oh, but King Thengel is cunning. Of course he would not let an opportunity like that pass him by. - Alas, Mithelef, I am sure you enjoy your new duties for the horse masters of Rohan," he added with a rueful smile, lifting his head as if the words would carry across the plains to the horse's ears.
Aragorn, too, assumed that the king of Rohan would have set his stallion to breeding duties. The king had often commented on Mithelef's coat and character and had lamented Rohan's need for fine horses such as his. It had pained Aragorn to leave his horse behind. While the one he had been given as a gift from the king was a fine replacement, Domfast could not hope to match Mithelef's speed or, indeed, his sentimental value.
"You are not upset?" Aragorn ventured to ask Elladan.
"No, littlest brother. I acknowledge King Thengel's craftiness that left you little choice in the matter. Elrohir, however … I think it might be best that you do not tell him."
Aragorn grimaced, he had thought as much. Elrohir had practically raised the silver stallion, had trained him early to be Aragorn's loyal companion through the adventures he had faced. The younger twin had a special skill for dealing with horses and a special connection to them. In all likelihood, he would be less forgiving than Elladan had been, once he heard about Mithelef.
They rounded another corner, and passed through a small side gate in the topmost wall of Minas Tirith. The connection between the soldier's quarter of the citadel and the royal stables on the sixth ring of the city. This was where the horses of the high lords and the guards of the citadel were stabled. Only their mounts were allowed within the city limits themselves, while all other horses were stabled on the plains before the first grand wall. The winding, steep streets of Minas Tirith left little choice in the matter, and in truth, moving through the city on horseback was little faster than running.
They found his men waiting for them already, his own and Elladan's horses were saddled as well, ready for their immediate departure. Aragorn took a moment to introduce Elladan to his men, before they mounted their horses. It seemed Egrahil had had little trouble finding twenty volunteers and Aragorn felt a swell of pride at the eagerness and loyalty of his men. It had taken him many years to rise in the ranks of the Gondorian army, serving alongside many fine men, some of which were with him even now. His was a finely honed troop that he was proud to command.
"And you have met, Egrahil," he concluded the introductions, "my lieutenant."
Egrahil bowed to his brother as Aragorn turned to the rest of the men. "I have told the Lord Ecthelion that we will reach Pelargir by nightfall. We will ride hard and with little rest, but I have no doubt that you will prove me right."
He mounted to the cheer of his men, and then they were off on their race over the plains and down the river, a race against time to try and defend Pelargir from the corsairs.
-o0o-
Elrohir paced Aragorn's quarters, not for the first time this day willing the sun to sink faster. He had long ago eaten the last of the bread Aragorn had brought from the breakfast banquet and had fletched as many new arrows as he had had supplies for. He had gone through all of Glorfindel's training poses, twice, and yet time still refused to move forward.
Even dressed as he was now, in a grey silk shirt and suede pants, he would still be too easily spotted in the midday sun. He had ventured outside briefly to find the entrance to the stairwell Aragorn had spoken off, but even though he was fairly certain that he had remained unobserved, he had felt uncomfortably exposed. The feeling of unseen eyes boring into his back had only dissipated once he had returned to Aragorn's rooms and he had decided that further ventures were best delayed until the evening. Once the sun moved behind Mount Mindolluin and cast Minas Tirith in shadow, he would have more places to hide. Using his Lorien cloak then would make him all but invisible to mortal eyes - or so he hoped.
If their plans had not been so suddenly upheaved he would still now be enjoying luncheon with Aragorn after an extended tour of the White Tower and his intel would be a good deal better than the hastily drawn map he was looking at now for the hundredth time today.
He sighed again as his stomach rumbled impatiently. Thinking about lunch did not help, just as fantasizing about sneaking into Elladan's guest chamber to steal his treats hadn't. He looked outside again, judging that the sun had moved approximately not at all since last he checked and forced himself to sit down.
Funny that Aragorn was so concerned about his safety while infiltrating the tower and investigating the source of the dark power, when he was likely to succumb to his own restlessness long before he ever set foot in the tower.
Elladan, he knew, would have been better at this. His twin could be calm and composed on the eve of battle itself. He had a gift for stilling rampant thoughts, of focusing only on the task at hand, on the things to come. Elrohir wished for his twin's calm presence now, as he fought his own thoughts from straying, from lingering on dark memories so recently disturbed. He tried to stay focused on the position of the sun, on the map Aragorn had drawn or the new problems he might face - now that their plan had fallen apart.
Their original plan had been simple but elegant. Had they had the whole day to prepare he would have known exactly where to be and where not. Even if someone had spotted him - pretending to be Elladan, lost and profusely apologetic, should have gotten him out of most any situation.
Now he was left, without either of his brothers, in a city permeated with a dark energy so thick, it made his skin crawl. He had nothing to keep his mind off the worry for his brothers either - for though they would not arrive in Pelargir until nightfall, other dangers could await them on the road. His unhelpful mind conjured up perils and threats that his brothers might already be facing, far away from where he could get to them.
Elrohir had not asked details from his twin for there had been no time, but he had picked up on the tenseness in his brother's shoulders and on the worry that had coursed through Elladan, tainting their bond. Something about the news from Pelargir had unsettled his brother, had made him decide to accompany Aragorn and abandon their plan, despite the fact that they both knew that Aragorn no longer needed their protection.
Dimly he wondered if Elladan had foreseen something - and what. He was usually better at picking up on the clues whenever Elladan had been plagued by a vision, and Elladan would often seek his counsel to decipher the frequently frustrating images and feelings of his visions. He cursed the haste with which Aragorn and Elladan had had to depart, wishing he knew more. Wishing he could help.
Was there something else he could have said, should have done? Had he been so distracted by the lingering shadow of the darkness that had assailed them last night, that he had missed his brother's discomfort, the signs of a vision?
Elrohir ran a hand through his hair in frustration, as his thoughts unerringly returned to the events of last night. Before he could stop it, his memory once again conjured the hated images, the sense of dread. Again he could hear the whispers in the crude tongue of the orcs, could feel on his face the stale air inside roughly hewn mountain tunnels. Again, the light seemed to fade to a dull reflection of flickering torch light, barely illuminating the uneven ground in front of his feet. And the screams, oh Valar, he could again hear her screams echoing in his ears.
Sharp pain from his palm drew him back to the present and he realized he had balled his hands to fists tight enough to draw blood. He slowly opened his hands, grateful for the clarity that the pain had brought, for the simple task of washing the small cuts he could now focus on. It was not enough, apparently, that the reawakened memory haunted his dreams once more, now it came for him already in daytime.
It was time to get out of this room, time to find the source of the dark energy that had its hold on the city.
He looked outside once more and as if the Valar had finally answered his prayers, the sun had inched closer to the mountain. Soon it would cast a deep shadow on all levels of the city, the citadel included, and Elrohir would finally be able to escape this room, escape this wearisome inaction and set out on the task he had come here for.
As he got ready he allowed himself to think of his brothers once more, hoping that they had not encountered the trouble that Elladan had feared.
-o0o-
tbc...
A/N: I might have spoken to soon when I promised actual action in this chapter - it is coming though, truly. Next week. In the meantime you get a cute scene with horses ^-^
I'm just glad I could post this for you today - as I am currently with a bit questionable internet connection. Here's to hoping it will hold until it's been uploaded. Once again - thanks to everyone who reads and takes an interest in this story and special thanks to everyone who leaves a fave or a review: You are wonderful!
Special thanks also to my wonderful (continuity) beta-reader (who is not to blame for any mistakes - those are all purely mine (my own, my precious)) frannysnow.