7-12-03
Once again, I am posting late. A thousand apologies! Ah! Thanks to everyone who reviews, once again. If it weren't for you guys I would have given up long ago.
11. Hidden Purposes
A palantír! Eleriel thought to herself, horrified. Denethor, the fool, is using a palantír!
It was two days of hard riding yet before she reached Minas Tirith. Eleriel glanced down at the galloping mare, but did not worry for her, because the elven horse could sense the remants of Shadowfax's passage across these very same plains, and pushed herself all the harder.
Doesn't Denethor know how dangerous the Seeing Stones can be? By Eru, if I am too late to warn Gandalf... Eleriel shuddered to think of it. She knew that Sauron could plant twisted ideas into the mind of the Steward of Gondor, if he had not already done so. Minas Tirith could be seen on the horizon and Eleriel could only hope.
Eleriel trotted a weary Romírë up to the gate in the stone wall. Stern guards dressed in black and silver and with bleak faces stared down at her. Eleriel was suddenly glad that she had pulled up her hood to block out the chill.
"Who are you, and why do you come to Minas Tirith?" one of the guards asked. Eleriel could hear the weariness and desperation in the man's voice and sighed sadly.
"I am a messenger here to speak with Gandalf the Wizard," she told the guards. "It is of the utmost importance that I see him as soon as possible."
The guards eyed her uncertainly. "How do we know...?" one of them began to ask, but Eleriel answered him before the question was completed.
"I am Eleriel. Tell him that, if you doubt me, and he will tell you whether or not to let me into your city."
One of the guards shrugged. "I will go find the wizard," he said wearily. He turned from his post and disappeared into the city. His companion turned to Eleriel.
"Well, Eleriel...if that is indeed who you are...I hope you know that the Lord Denethor is not happy with your wizard friend at the moment."
Eleriel smiled grimly. "No, that doesn't surprise me," she said softly.
"Tell me... where you come from, is it common for the...women...to take up such dangerous tasks as this one?" the guard asked. He was only trying to make conversation, and Eleriel could sense no malice or ill will in the man.
"No, it isn't," Eleriel told him, and the two of them talked in a companionable way until the other guard returned.
"Lady Eleriel," he said, bowing low. "Please, come with me. I will take you to the wizard." Eleriel nodded to the other guard before following her guide into the cobbled streets of Minas Tirith. Soon they came to the place where Denethor was speaking with Gandalf. "They are expecting you," the guard said. "The wizard is in there with the Lord Denethor."
Eleriel nodded, and entered the room. Gandalf and the man beside him looked up at her, and Pippin turned his head to grin at her.
"Eleriel, my dear," Gandalf cried, standing. He turned to his companion. "Lord Denethor, this is the Lady Eleriel, daughter of Elrond of Imladris."
The old man had the look of one who was once strong and healthy, but had now given up to the inevitable effects of old age. He looked sharply at Eleriel through aged grey-green eyes. "Imladris? I regret the day that I sent my son to your...city."
"Pleased to meet you, my Lord," Eleriel said politely, if somewhat stiffly. "Please, excuse my sudden and abrupt arrival, but I have information that I must give to Gandalf immediatly."
Denethor simply looked at her. "Anything spoken in the walls of this city is for my ears as well," he told her.
Eleriel gritted her teeth. "Very well," she said quietly. She had to alert Gandalf of the danger without revealing anything to Denethor. If he knew that she had found out about the Seeing Stone...
The elf turned to Gandalf and looked him in the eye. "I would have you remember the old Steward of Gondor... the one with whom my father was close. I bid you to remember his proud words... and I remind you of the foolishness of your comrade, master Curunir, and of the young cousin of Master Underhill."
Gandalf's pale eyes stared into Eleriel's own for a long moment. Eleriel prayed that he had understoon. She was sure that Gandalf had known that old Steward of Gondor, and she was also sure that very few on Middle Earth knew Saruman's true name, Curunir, and she was able to think of no other way of identifying Pippin without being too obvious.
Suddenly Gandalf's eyes widened. He glanced quickly at Peregrin Took and at the aged Steward before turning back to Eleriel. He nodded. "Indeed. I will avoid the foolishness of those you named." Eleriel sighed with relief. He'd understood her message.
"Will you be staying, Lady?" Denethor asked coldly. He seemed to know that some secret message had just been exchanged between the two immortal beings, and he was quite obviously not happy about missing it, whatever it was.
Eleriel shrugged. "If I can be of any use to you, Lord, then I would be happy to remain. If not, I can help by ferrying messages to the Rohirrim, if you'd prefer. I left home to help in this war, and I mean to do just that."
Denethor looked at her suspiciously and eyed Gandalf and Pippin at the same time. Eleriel had no doubt that the Steward did not trust the hobbit or wizard. The palantír has already gotten to him, poor man, she thought to herself. Wondering what dark misconceptions Sauron had planted in the man's head, Eleriel allowed her herself to be led away.
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"Faramir! Faramir!" The wails of the people of Gondor filled the streets. "Faramir!"
Eleriel watched, her eyes wide and sad. "Bring him to the Houses of Healing!" she shouted to the men carrying the fallen son of the Steward of Gondor. Looking at the man, who was sprawled limply on the makeshift stretcher, Eleriel was struck anew how much Faramir looked like his brother. When Eleriel had met Faramir a few days before, she had been unable to speak for a moment, so surprised and choked up with emotion at the thought of the brave, dead warrior Boromir.
However, Eleriel's suggestion was ignored, and Faramir was carried to the White Tower. "Your son has returned, lord, after great deeds!" Prince Imrahil told Denethor as Faramir was laid before him.
In the eyes of the old man, Eleriel saw a familiar expression. There is no hope for Denethor, she thought sadly. Guilt, suspicion... distrust. Eleriel watched in silent dismay as Denethor had Faramir taken to a room and laid out on a bed.
Denethor thinks Faramir is all but dead.
Denethor himself vanished, hiding away in a secret corner where he could greave, no doubt. Eleriel groaned silently; Denethor had not summoned healers. However, two healers from the Houses of Healing had heard of Faramir's plight; so loved was the young lord by his people that some were willing to defy the Steward for Faramir.
Eleriel pushed her way through the crowds of moaning people and into the tower. Sprinting up the staircases, she burst into the room where Faramir lay inert. The healers looked up in surprise, then returned their attention to the wounded man.
"We don't have time for the young admirers of the Lord," one of them told her tersely.
Refusing to be insulted, Eleriel said, "I am the daughter of Elrond of Imladris, and I have had much training in elvish medicine. I think I might be of some help to you."
Looking up, the healer eyed her closely. "You are the one they call Evenstar?" he asked.
"No. I am her older sister."
"I didn't know Elrond had two daughters," the second healer said absently. "I need you to hold this," he said to his partner.
"Most people don't know," Eleriel said quietly. "Now, would you let me help?"
The first healer looked at her again, more suspiciously this time. "Why would the elves want to help? I have heard what the Lord Denethor thinks of your kind; greedy, selfish, magical. No, I think we do not wish your help here, Lady."
"He is my blood kin," Eleriel said softly, but the man either did not hear her or was ignoring her. Eleriel pursed her lips and turned to leave. On the threshold of the door, however, she paused and looked back. "I would try kingsfoil, if I were you," she said, before striding out the door.
It was true, Faramir was her blood kin, however distantly. The Stewards of Gondor were very distantly related to the Peredhel through their mortal lineage. Eleriel pondered this as she left the White Tower.
"Eleriel!" a voice called. The elven woman turned to see Gandalf rushing to her.
"Eleriel, Gondor is besieged! We must have help from the Rohirrim! Where are they?"
Eleriel shook her head. "I do not know! Can we get word to them, somehow?"
Gandalf hesitated. "One rider might, with luck, slip through the enemies' watch..." He broke off, staring at something behind her.
Eleriel turned and immediatly saw what held Gandalf's attention. In a window high in the Tower, a thin light flickered. Suddenly it flashed brightly before disappearing.
"I fear that you were right, daughter of Elrond," Gandalf said grimly. "He does indeed have one of the lost Stones..." He paused before continuing. "Théoden must be warned of the change in events. He cannot be allowed to ride into the army surrounding Minas Tirith."
"I know," Eleriel said. "I will ride out tonight." Gandalf nodded and thanked her before rushing away, sending her a grim smile as he left.
Only hours later, Eleriel was fleeing silently on the back of Romírë through the lines of the enemy. The Riders of Rohan could not be far away; they had left Edoras days ago. Travel would be slow, for they were a large group, but Eleriel knew that they must be close. Still, Eleriel herself was weary, as was her horse, for they had been working hard in the last few days. As it was, Eleriel reached the Muster of Rohan by midday.
Théoden was the first to spot her. He brought his horse forward to meet her. "What news, daughter of Elrond?" he called.
"Minas Tirith is besieged!" she shouted. A ripple of dismay went through the travelers. "The White City is surrouned by the enemy!"
"How can this be?" Théoden cried. "Are we so late in coming?"
"Nay, lord, not too late," Eleriel said to the King. "Not yet, at least. There is still some hope... but we must ride fast to the city! If we hurry, we can be there by tomorrow's morn!"
The Riders surged forward, as if Eleriel's words had brought them new energy and passion for the cause. "Gondor!" some shouted.
Late that evening, the host stopped. Théoden insisted that the warriors take some food and get some rest before the battle the next day, and this Rohirrim obeyed, if somewhat reluctantly. Eleriel could see that they were eager for battle, but she saw the wisdom in the King's orders. Weary and hungry men might as well be dead men, facing an army like the ones surrounding Minas Tirith.
While some rested, Eleriel walked to a low-burning campfire and sat down. The lone Rider sitting beside the fire looked up at her apprehensively. Eleriel smiled a little. "Hello," she said. "What brings you to war?"
"I serve my King," the Rider said simply.
"Indeed. You are the one they call Dernhelm?" Eleriel said. The Rider nodded, and Eleriel said, "well, then, if I have heard aright, you need not even be here."
Dernhelm looked up sharply. "My place is beside my King! Nothing, not even the commanding words of my superiors, will ever change that! I am warrior, nothing else."
"This is war," Eleriel said softly. "It is a noble sentiment, Master... Dernhelm, and I admire you for your loyalty. Truly I do. I only pray to Ilúvatar that you do not fall."
"I go to war searching for death," the other said, so softly that Eleriel knew that the words were not meant for her ears.
Eleriel was silent for a moment before standing. "If it helps you at all, I give you the blessing of the Elves... you and he who rides with you." Dernhelm looked up sharply. Eleriel smiled a little. "I know that the King's squire wished to come. Beyond loyalty, I know not his reasons, but.... we all have some hidden purposes and reasons at some times in our lives, even the Elves."
Dernhelm looked at her for a long moment before nodding. "We do indeed," the warrior said quietly. "Yes, we do."
Eleriel nodded to the Rider before walking from the campfire. When she was obscured by the darkness surrounding the flickering light, Eleriel turned and looked at the solitary person beside the fire. "Fight bravely, Lady of Rohan," she said softly. "Fight bravely." Eleriel stood for a moment more, her sharp elven eyes noticing the hobbit Meriadoc joining Éowyn beside the campfire and smiled to herself. "Guard her carefully, brave hobbit," she whispered, before melting into the darkness of the night.
Next chapter…. The battle of the Pelennor Fields and the Pyre of Denethor! A meeting between a certain young lord and a certain yound lady… a reunion between a certain two elves and a little heart-to-heart chat…