Captain Bergil of Gondor hurried down the passage, nodded briskly to the guards standing on either side of the door, who opened the doors to the into the Great Hall, that he might enter. There he strode forward toward where the newly crowned King sat on his High Throne, and bowed in greeting.
"Arise, Captain Bergil," the King replied, dark haired and fair of face, firm and noble, the blood of both mortal and immortal reflected in his face. "what news of great urgency is there that you would hasten to my Hall?"
"Orcs, my lord Eldarion. Scouts have seen a party of them heading toward Osgiliath at dusk. They have encamped at our borders, and have yet to enter into our lands. I have given orders that the scouts stand vigilant and keep a wary eye upon the Orcs, but even so, my mind is not put to rest, for the party of men are few in numbers, no more then ten could I spare to watch the creatures."
"A ploy, maybe?" Eldarion mused. "what say you, Captain Bergil?"
"Orcs are not to be trusted, my lord," the Captain replied immediately. "And I would not trust one even if he laid his arms at my feet and begged pardon."
"Creatures of Morgoth, and of Sauron his servant," murmured the King. "if it were any other save those of Morgoth I would think differently, but my mind misgives me, and I too would not dismiss the matter. Tell me Captain," he continued. "how long ago was it since I last rode out?"
"A fortnight and odd days, my Lord," was the man's reply. "not since…not since King Elessar's passing."
"Then saddle my horse, Captain Bergil. I will ride and meet these creatures. It has been far too long since I ventured out of Minas Tirith."
"My lord, our warriors are perfectly capable—"
"I know they are, Captain. I do not doubt their skill," Eldarion cut him off. "nonetheless, I will ride."
"Yes Lord," replied Bergil. "with the Kings consent, I will take my leave, that I may ready the horses."
"Go, friend," The King said, and the Captain of Gondor bowed and turned to depart from the Hall.
"And Bergil," Eldarion called to the man. "hoist the dark flag beside that of Gondors. My dearest mother Arwen's spirit has departed to the Halls of Mandos."
Bergil nodded acknowledgement, and as he strode out of the Great Hall, understanding of Eldarion's earlier command to ride out dawned upon his aging face. For the King's voice had been strained, and not once was there a trace of gladness in his eyes.
"So it has happened then," sighed Nindëwen, lastborn of Elessar and Arwen, and even before she saw the dark flag being raised next to the standard of Gondor, lit dimly by torches round the first gate, she knew that what she had dreaded had indeed come to pass. "mother is gone. You knew also, didn't you sister? Eldarion did too, 'tis the Elven second sight."
"Yes I did," replied her older sister, stepping forward to embrace her. "come dearest, weep not."
"What of our brother?"
"He has gone riding. Some business with Orcs near Osgiliath."
"That is good Cenire," Nindëwen said. "riding always lifts his spirits. But…ai, first father, now mother…"
And the two women clung to each other, that they might find comfort in the others arms, weeping.
Thus the Company of men set forth passing through the seventh gate of Minas Tirith, King Eldarion on Eohfæst his steed, Captain Bergil riding beside him, and twenty five warriors on foot. And as Eldarion commanded, swiftly they journeyed on, stopping to rest but little, for the soldiers of Gondor were hardy and loved their King, and they followed his commands with nary an ill word passed between them. Onward they marched, the standard of the house of Telecontar flying proudly in the wind. Stern and solemn was Bergil, even as the wind tousled his white hair. But Eldarion's was a mixture of sorrow and mirth, for his heart rejoiced as he roamed the vast plains of Gondor, yet evermore did he mourn the death of the Evenstar, for he had loved her as dearly as any child could love his mother.
"My liege!" came the frantic voice of one as they neared Osgiliath. Eldarion turned to see a lone warrior, who stumbled forward, then fell, bloodied and wounded.
"It is a soldier of Gondor." Murmured Bergil, before turning to the warriors. "somebody help him, for pity's sake!"
But Eldarion had already dismounted and walked over to the soldier. Then he stooped down and helped him up, that he might lean against Eldarion's shoulder for support. The warrior was no more than a lad who had just begun to mature into manhood.
"No, good sir, I cannot walk, I fear that I am too weary." Whispered the soldier, much too worn out to fully realize that it was the King who bore him.
The King knelt on the grass and leaned the boy against him.
"What is your name?" he asked, his voice grave and gentle.
"Deor, sir," answered the lad weakly.
"What happened Deor?"
"We were overwhelmed," replied he. "There were but ten of us, we were few, and they were many. Still we might have…might have won, had more orcs not arrived."
"Bravely did you fight, you and your Companions," Eldarion said.
"It is you Lord!" the boy's blue eyes widened, when he recognized that it was the Kings face looking down upon him, and that it was the King's arms that supported him. "Ai, truly my King…I am sorry, I did not know…"
"You have done naught to incur the King's wrath, nay, Deor the Valiant I name you. " Eldarion smiled slightly, and he bore the youngster up and carried him toward where the rest of his men were. There some gently took the body of Deor and poured water into his lips, and tended to him as best as they could.
"Noble indeed is our King," Bergil commented, and his gaze was approving.
"I did what I could friend," Eldarion replied, mounting Eohfæst.
"What now sire? Do we head back that we may bring the lad to the Houses of Healing, or shall we continue forward and face the orcs?"
"Had we more horses to saddle all the men, we would be able to dispatch a rider to bear the boy back." Eldarion sighed. "But we do not. Yet if we turn back, the orcs will venture forward to Osgiliath, and I fear that they will harm those in the nearby villages. We must ride forward, Bergil, and make haste."
It was at dawn that they spotted a group of orcs fleeing east, for they had both shunned light and realized that they were being pursued. Then Eldarion unsheathed his sword Andúril that his father Aragorn passed down to him, and it gleamed a bright white against the dark night.
"Creatures of Morgoth!" The King's voice rang clear and stern over the plain. "Whither do you run, fleeing like cowards as the light dawns? Will you not take your stand and fight? Or will you only fight battles that you can win, seeking only to cause misery and pain? I say to you now, no more grief will you cause, and today you perish at the hands of those whom you seek to hurt!"
And at that the orcs gave a great cry of dismay, for while the King issued his challenge, his men and quietly surrounded them, and they had no chance of escape.
"Scum of men!" yelled an orc, hurtling his orc-knife toward Eldarion. But the King quickly deflected the blow with his sword.
"For Gondor and the Undómiel!" he shouted, urging his horse on. And the warriors, seeing their King charge, raised their weapons, and ran forward to meet their foes, hurtling themselves upon them.
The arms clashed as the two parties fought fiercely against the other, showing but little mercy, for the orcs had no purpose other than to kill, and the men of Gondor had seen to many atrocities committed at the hands of orcs to feel even pity for the wretched creatures. And soon the night was filled with the shrieks and yells of the fighting and the dying and the wounded. Eldarion rained blows left and right upon his foes, as Eohfæst galloped through the orcs. And together the soldiers felled the creatures, leaving none alive.
When Captain Bergil thrust his sword into the last orc, thus slaying it, the skirmish was over, and the men rejoiced at their victory, small as it was.
"Valiantly did you fight, soldiers of Gondor!" shouted the Captain, his sword shining a dark red with orc-blood. "And now we march back to Minas Tirith for some well-deserved rest."
"Bergil," said the King, riding up to his trusted Captain, the limp body of Deor with him on his horse. "I will leave you to lead them back to the City. The lad's strength is failing him, and I must get him to the Houses of Healing as soon as possible."
"As you wish lord," Bergil bowed his head. "ride speedily, for I do not wish to see yet another fall at the hands of orcs.'
"Neither do I, Bergil." Replied Eldarion grimly. Eohfæst, sensing his master's urgency, lifted his head proudly and sped over the plains, swift and tireless, as the sun rose and a new day approached.
"Tell me, my good woman, will he live?" Eldarion asked Cwenhoh, a Healer in the Houses, who had approached the boys bed with linen bandages and a basin of hot water and tended to him. But the dame did not respond, instead she bit her lip, and her hands hook has she bandaged the gash on Deors chest. When her work was done she stood abruptly, tears in her eyes.
"I am sorry, my liege," she choked and rushed out of the room, leaving Eldarion standing there startled.
"Curse your ignorance, brother." Cenire appeared at the doorway. "The boy is her son, and her only child."
"Ai, truly sister, I did not know. I was merely concerned for the boy, but verily do I regret my words."
"Do not worry, my brother," the lady's voice was gentle and caring, as she came and took her brother's hands in her slender ones. "for you have done what you could for Deor, and must trust the skills of the Healers. For there is naught else you can do for him, save for hoping.
"Come, there is spiced wine and food waiting to be consumed. You have not eaten since you set out last night, and it is already noon."
It was two days later that Deor's struggle with death ended, and his torment was over. They buried him just outside Minas Tirith, in a field where the flowers bloomed evermore and the grass grew lush and green, where he would always be remembered and loved as young Deor the Valiant.