Imladris Past

A Tolkien Fan Fiction By

Raven Usher

Part One. The Tower Behind.

Mirwen walked along the battlements of the White Tower of Minas Tirith. Her eyes swept across the rings of the citadel before her. Her dark hair plaited firmly in a ring against the back of her head. The sun was sinking behind the mountains as Mirwen leaned upon the battlement, sighing heavily as a loose strand of night black hair fell into her face. She was surrounded by people that admired and respected her, but somehow, she felt utterly alone. She glanced over as one of the guards of the citadel came towards her. Mirwen immediately dug her heel into the stone walk and swiveled to turn around in the other direction, as she was meant to be attending dinner with The King of Rohan and her parents.

She picked up her skirts, mumbling to herself as her shoes clamored down the staircase. Grabbing the handle to one of the heavy doors that led inside the tower she leaned against it and nearly toppled over as it gave way suddenly, granting her entrance. Mirwen hastily smoothed her skirts and ran a hand through her hair before setting off through the vacant hallways. As she began to round a corner she went headlong into one of the maids who had been carrying a tray of food. Both fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Have you know sense!?" Mirwen grumbled irritably. "Watch your step…"

"I'm sorry, milady," replied the girl, trying to collect herself. "I was just walking… And I… Forgive me…"

Mirwen growled crossly as she pushed herself to her feet. "I don't want to hear excuses!" With that she stormed down the corridor without a glance back at the unfortunate maid who was still behind, apologies stuttering off her tongue. Mirwen pushed the stubborn strands of hair back behind her ears as she came into the main hall she felt her forearm grabbed roughly to stop her.

"Mirwen! Where have you been? What are you doing? Why aren't you in the banquet hall?" It was the voice of her father's advisor, Domalan.

"I was taking a walk…" she replied sullenly, giving Domalan a foul look. "I didn't realize that I was violating any law of the country."

"If you were my daughter, I'd box your ears good and hard," Domalan hissed lowly in his frustration, then he released a heavy sigh. "But you're not, and I don't advise the King on his family, only his country." Despite what he said, he began to lead Mirwen up a separate staircase towards the princess' chambers. "However, I'm not about to let you waltz in, in the middle of the dinner… After all, it is with-"

"The King of Rohan, I'm perfectly aware," Mirwen drawled in a bored tone.

Domalan jerked her, his agitation rising. "Stop it, Mirwen. You've been a spoiled brat your whole life. Can't you try to expand your horizons and think of someone else for even a moment?"

Mirwen's feet halted immediately as she tore her arm away from the advisor. She firmly placed her hands upon her hips, a superior look crossing her face. "I beg your pardon! You cannot speak to me like that."

Domalan slowly came to a stop as he took a slow breath as he looked at Mirwen. "I suppose you are right. You are not a child anymore, I don't have to tell you what you should and shouldn't do. It's not my job, nor my business." He paused as Mirwen's shoulders visibly deflated in shock of his humble manner. "You are the Princess of Gondor. You are a lady who's power is unparalleled to many in this Middle-Earth. It's about time you start to learn how to use that power, and stop acting like this spoiled child," he finished seriously.

Mirwen's mouth was partially open. No one had spoken to her so frankly and so truthfully before. "Domalan… I never thought…"

Domalan sighed wearily. "I suggest you try thinking." With that, he said no more and turned down the corridor from where they had come, leaving Mirwen standing alone, watching his retreating back.

Mirwen continued the rest of the way to her chambers silently. Her feet dragging as she pushed open the door and sat on her bed. Slowly she gazed about… every comfort available in Middle-Earth was at her disposal, yet she wouldn't allow herself to take too much to heart what Domalan had said to her. She flopped back down onto her bed, the feather pillow seeming to envelope her as her eyes roved to look out the window. Below her was the citadel of Minas Tirith, beyond those walls lay the countryside of Gondor, beyond that Rohan, and Isengard, Helm's Deep, Lothlorien… Yet all these places were little more than names, for she had never ventured outside the citadel.

Mirwen rolled over on her side and shut her eyes, hoping this would close out her yearning to see those lands. Rivendell. The thought slipped into her mind. It was where her great-grandmother had come from. Arwen, the Elf, whom had given her mortality to Elessar, the one who ended a long line of Stewards, and gave Gondor its king. Both had died long before her birth, but she could never escape the stories.

If I were immortal, Mirwen thought stubbornly to herself, I would never be so foolish as to give it up for some man. Queen Arwen must have been mad to do that. She sighed, succumbing to her own contemplation and opening her eyes. The sun was dipping below the far off mountains. Someday… I may rule this land, she thought. But I don't want that… They don't need me. Like Domalan said, I'm just a spoiled child. No one wants me here, her thoughts finished sourly.

Mirwen thought about the sword of her father's. The one that had been passed down. Anduril. That's what it's name was. What use would she have for a sword? The princess remembered overhearing one night, she couldn't have been more than ten years of age, someone or other speaking of her. Saying how the King was disappointed that he had been given a girl, rather than a boy. There was no one to hand this sword on to, no one who would be able to learn how to use it properly.

No one wants me here, Mirwen repeated in her mind, and sighed as a tear rolled down her cheek. If no one wants me hear, I may as well leave.

(-*_~*~_*-)

Mirwen crept slowly through the halls of the White Tower, careful not to make too much noise. She wore one of her more coarser dresses, for she had no proper traveling clothes, she had other clothing and such in a pack wrapped in a blanket on her back. The adrenaline was coursing through her, she had never done anything remotely adventurous. She had been out of line, but nothing like this.

Mirwen pushed the doors to a separate room with all her might. The moonlight trickled in from in between the crack in the curtain of the throne room. She slowly walked up the steps to an elevated case made of fine silver. Mirwen slowly pushed it open and looked down at the blade of Anduril glimmering even in the faintest light. Mirwen's breath caught as she looked down at it. She grasped the hilt and took it from its place and secured it into its scabbard.

The princess closed the case with a snap, much louder than she would have liked. She stepped lightly across the floor to where the doors stood open. As soon as she had placed one foot outside the doorframe she felt her heart leap into her throat. There was the sound of approaching footfalls coming at a rapid pace. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead in fear that she might be caught.

"Who's in here?" demanded a voice entering the room.

Mirwen pressed herself firmly against the wall behind one of the curtains. She could hear the guard come closer to where she stood. There was a ring in the air as the guard unsheathed his sword from beyond the curtain. Mirwen prayed for a way out then looked behind her. The window! Fumbling for the lock on the window, she pushed it open.

"Show yourself!" shouted the guard, ripping the curtain away. The stern face on the guard fell into confusion. There was no one standing there. He bent over to look out the window, all he could see was darkness. The guard turned away from the window at a half run.

Mirwen sighed with relief as she pushed herself up from the stone balcony that jutted out from one of the chambers. Her muscles were sore from where she had landed heavily, but she still had the sword grasped tightly to her. No doubt the guard had raised some sort of alarm.

The princess swung her leg over the rampart of the balcony and searched for footholds. Slowly she began to lower herself down the wall. She glanced over her shoulder to look below her, it didn't seem that far to the ground. All of a sudden, the rock onto which she held onto slipped from its place and she let out a short scream. Mirwen felt herself fall as if forever to the ground.

Mirwen groaned. Her arm felt as though it had broken, but she couldn't stop now. Oh, why did I decide to do this? She thought. Mirwen used her good shoulder to prop herself up, then stand. Mirwen picked up at a run, taking her away from the tower and into the citadel. She lost track of how much time it took her before she got to the stables.

She selected a black mare from the lot, already saddled in case there was an emergency messenger needed. Mirwen took the horse by the reins and began to lead it towards the door of the stable.

"My lady, are you sure you know how to ride that?"

Mirwen raised her head to look up. Domalan was standing at the door. "What are you doing here?!" she gasped out.

"I was walking the halls when I walked past one of the guards. They told me that Anduril had been stolen. That is Anduril you have with you, is it not?" He spoke calmly.

"Yes, yes it is," she said with downcast eyes.

"You took what I said to heart," he said slowly, surveying Mirwen, her hands firmly grabbing the reins of the black mare.

"Well, yes."

"But in your own way, I see." Mirwen didn't reply, but Domalan didn't wait. "No one deserves to posses that sword more than you. Though, you hardly know how to use it."

"What are you talking about?"

"If you have decided to go out into the world, you will need the best of swords to protect you," Domalan sighed. "Where are you going to…"

"To Rivendell," Mirwen replied without hesitation, though she never had taken a moment beforehand to actually think about what her destination would be.

Domalan's eyes widened. "Rivendell… that is very far from here. Can you make the trip?"

"I don't exactly know…" she sighed in dismay.

"Well, if this is how you expect to grow out of your spoiled brat shell, I wish you all the best of luck…"

Mirwen studied him in confusion. "Thank you…" She began to lead her black mare out of the stable, but not before Domalan was out of earshot.

"May Valinor watch over you."