Chapter 2
The Shadows Gather
A/N: Allow me to explain myself. Several things have all conspired against me lately to prevent me from posting this chapter. One is the fact that I'm on holidays, which has given me less, rather than more, time to write. Two, we just got two puppies (Foxie x Maltese Terriers…so cute!!!) and they kinda sidetracked me for a while there… "DOGS! Put down the damn shoe!" ahem…
And thirdly, someone carelessly left poison lying around and killed all my ideas. *sigh*
Lyggy: No, Éowyn and Aragorn didn't marry in this fic, though I am a fan of A/E relationships. Thanks for the review!
P.S: You're right about the Tolkien thing. Lol.
leah: Thankyou!
Jessamyn: I'm glad you liked it.
Tigerlilly: Wow! You reviewed practically everything! *blushes* Thanks soo much!
She woke gasping for breath.
'Let us make for the city.' was the first thing she uttered, pushing away the worried hands and ignoring the questions being fired after her retreating form.
'Andreth?' Angelimir asked, shooting an anxious glance at his wife. 'What hath afflicted our daughter so?'
He had always known Andreth saw more, heard more, in life and dreams than any other. She was accounted wise among men and few things ever took her by surprise.
But she would only set her mouth in a grim line and shake her head.
He knew it was futile to ask her more.
Morwen galloped Neru hard. Damrod kept pace beside her, their legs almost touching as their mounts heaved for air.
He kept shooting glances at his sister, wondering what demons troubled her.
She had started changing well before now. When news had arrived of Borlas, son of Beregond's death. He knew her thoughts were disturbed so that she woke every night and paced the halls, trying to make sense of the dream that had awoken her but then eluded her memory.
And just as she could see his thoughts, he also could see hers. Thither he had heard the name of Herumor, and his eyes had widened in alarm so that he looked at her fearfully, yet her face had showed no sign of her thoughts.
Herumor held an ill name, though his deeds had long since faded to rumour amongst the aged, who had only heard the tales from their fathers before and their fathers before them, in a time when still the truth had lost its certainty and significance.
Ahead, the white city loomed, tall and proud. Yet even Damrod deemed that a shadow had fallen upon it and the sun's warmth felt cold on his back.
At the seventh gate, Morwen dismounted and let the servant worry for her horse as she ran franticly through the streets and up to the White Tower.
'The King is dead. Dead!' the women cried, and Morwen's heart felt as a stone in her chest.
Dirty and dishevelled, she made her way through the vast corridors of the citadel, and Damrod followed her as a shadow. Their parents' lagged further behind, setting a pace that age would allow.
As they neared the King's chamber, a great chorus of wailing met their ears.
'Let me pass! It is I, Morwen, the Steward's daughter.'
A servant came and bowed tearfully before her.
'Nay, Lady. I cannot let you enter in, for Herendil, our new Lord, weeps still over his father's body and has bid all leave him be.'
'He shall forgive me.' she insisted, pushing her way to the door and opening it slightly.
'My Lord?' she whispered.
'Did I not request peace!' came a harsh voice laden with sorrow.
She stepped inside, while Damrod remained outside.
'Morwen?' he asked, surprised. 'Ill luck is this, that you should enter the city at this grim time.' he held the dead King's hand and seemed reluctant to leave him.
''Twas not luck that brought me here, Lord.' she replied quietly.
'Yet I sent no messenger to advise you of these bleak tidings. How, then, could you know?'
She ignored his words and assumed a position at the Kings' side, kissing his forehead.
'I loved him.' she said, smiling sadly through her tears.
'As did I.' he replied with a sigh.
Eldarion's grey hair had been arrayed neatly in a halo about his head. His dark eyes were closed and he should have looked peaceful, save that there was something not right about his expression.
'What happened?' she asked.
'Alas that you should ask me this question, for I refuse to answer. Ask Gilel, the servant, who was here at the time.' his voice was bitter. Morwen nodded and left.
As she closed the door behind her, the people hushed their wailing. Her mother, father, and brother waited expectantly for her to speak.
'Who among you is named Gilel?' she asked.
'That would be I, miss.' came a shy voice, and the mourners moved aside to reveal a slight woman with fair hair.
'Tell me what befell the King.'
'Aye, miss.' she wrung her hands together and stared at the floor as she spoke. 'I was bringing the King his morning meal. He'd taken to eating it in his chambers. I set the tray down on the side-table and he spoke words of greeting, for he was always kind to me, Miss.
'Yet something strange happened then. The room went dark, though the sun shone beyond the open window, and the King began to act strangely, staring at something I couldn't see. He seemed to be struggling with an unseen foe, and I was frightened. My terror was so great that I stood rooted to the spot, and it was only afterwards that I realised I had been screaming. It alerted the other servants, but the King had already passed.' she wept silently.
Morwen nodded mutely, departing to the courtyard.
'It was the same shadow.' Morwen told Andreth as they sat beside the White Tree. The Great King had planted it some two hundred and thirty five years ago. Its leaves were dark and green, its branches high and roots deep.
'Herumor.' Andreth whispered under her breath, nodding grimly.
It seemed to Morwen that every time the name was mentioned the shadow in her heart clouded her eyes.
'I need to find out more.' she said more to herself then Andreth, wondering just how she would go about it.
They remained in Minas Tirith for the funeral of the King and the crowning of the new King, and attended the feast.
Morwen stood out on the balcony, attempting to avoid the rather repulsive creature she'd been forced to dance with several times already.
She could see Damrod conversing with several ladies by the wine table, and they seemed to find something he said very amusing, for all three of them had thrown back their elegant heads to laugh. The beautiful music of their laughter floated back to her, and her hand self-consciously flew to her hair, which she twirled absently about her finger.
Her gown was white, embroidered with golden thread, while her hair cascaded down her back uninhibited.
What was the point in styling it as the other ladies did, she wondered. She knew her hair would find a way to free itself ere the night was done.
Turning away from all the beautiful people, she stared out at the night sky.
'Is my feast not to your liking?'
Spinning around to face the familiar voice, she plastered a pleasant smile on her face.
'You cannot ever hope to please a woman, my king.' she replied.
'Ah, yes,' Herendil laughed, leaning against the rail beside her. 'I do recall saying such a thing once, though the memory of the exact occasion escapes me…'
'It was years ago, when you came to the Emyn and asked me what I honestly thought of your new steed.' she supplied, knowing full well Herendil was incapable of forgetting anything.
'Indeed! To which you replied: I have never seen such a sorry excuse for an animal. It was then that I told you his name was Naru, and he was yours.'
They laughed heartily at the memory, neither wanting to remember that Eldarion lay cold in his tomb.
'Yet he is far from the awkward colt he once was. Naru is magnificent now.' Morwen replied.
'But of course! Did you think I would gift to you anything but the best?'
Morwen blushed and looked down at her feet.
'Nay. You always did spoil me.'
'Say not spoiled, for that is a word I reserve for my sisters.' he replied.
'Speak not so, my king, for they are here tonight.'
He frowned.
'My king? What is this, Morwen? Am I not your friend, Herendil, still?'
'My friend, and my king.' she answered.
'Farther once told me, and wisely, that where authority starts, friendship ends.'
Morwen smiled strangely.
'Then how am I to treat you, lord, with disrespect or contempt?'
'Treat me as you always did.' he shrugged in a very un-king-like manner.
'Very well.' she nodded.
'Care to dance?'
She smiled and took his hand.
Angelimir had attended many council meetings of late regarding the disappearances of the townsfolk and what they were to do about it. So they remained in the city a little longer.
One night, Morwen had tried to leave the house for the city streets, when Damrod found her.
'Absolutely not!' he hissed, his grip almost painful about her wrist. 'You would walk the city at this hour? Nay, I cannot let you. Too many have gone missing of late.'
Morwen let out an annoyed sigh. 'I would try to find out why.'
'By going missing yourself?'
They held each other's eyes in a fierce stare. The hall was dark about them and every noise echoed keenly about the stone.
'You do not believe in Herumor, do you?' she asked.
Damrod shook his head wearily.
'Surely not this again? Herumor is not causing the disappearances. He is long since dead.'
'Then, dear brother, what is causing these happenings?'
He sighed. 'I know not, Sister. But mayhap the trying events of late have made you jump to certain conclusions all to readily.'
She wrenched her wrist out of his grasp.
'I am many things, Damrod; not all of them good, and yet I am not brash unto folly. So this I say to thee: come with me tonight, and we may see who's theory is disproved.'
He hesitated a moment, staring back into the dark recesses of the hall. Yet he nodded his head and opened the door.
'Aye, Morwen. We shall see if this darkness has a name.'
'A city under moon, is all it seems to me.' Damrod murmured as they wandered through the winding streets of the Second Circle.
'Nay, Damrod. Something feels amiss.'
Her skin tingled strangely. She wondered if Damrod was hiding his uneasiness. Then she saw him shudder and knew he felt it to.
'It is the cold.' he insisted upon seeing her enquiring look, though there was no cold to speak of.
'It is the Shadow.' she countered still more quietly.
It was then that they heard voices chanting eerily. The words were brought to their ears by a sudden wind.
'Fair of skin and dark of heart, dwell in shadows evermore…'
'Do you hear?' Morwen murmured.
'Aye. Come this way.'
He grasped her hand and they headed hastily north along the cobbled way.
Morwen began to feel unsure of their quest. What would they find?
'Follow East the rising sun, go thither kin of Herumor…'
They came to a sudden drop in the land, descended by many stairs. At the bottom a crowd of men, women, and children sat around a fire. There was the strong smell of incense upon the air, so that Morwen felt ill and wondered how the people could abide it.
They shrank back, unseen, into the cover of a gnarled tree, each gaping at the unutterable scene before them.
A carcase of a pig lay at the feet of a man, who painted the blood in strange runes upon the faces of the others.
Still the chanting continued, rising and falling in volume.
Others danced around the fire and, to Morwen's horror, she realised they wore orc-masks, which appeared fearfully real in the ethereal glow of the fire.
'Enough.' she whispered to Damrod, pulling him away from the scene and the stench. He only walked slowly, as if in a dream (or nightmare) at first, while Morwen cried and begged him to hasten. And then it seemed that he woke from his stupor and they ran crazily through the streets, fearing every half-seen shadow and whisper of wind as it rustled through tree and bush.
As they entered the house, Damrod secured the door while Morwen closed the shutters and lit the candles.
'Do you believe me now!' she sobbed, her hands trembling as she lit one candle with another.
Damrod said nothing, only lent against the door, fear still written on his features.
They heard footsteps and Morwen took the dagger from her side.
'What is the meaning of this?' Angelimir asked. Andreth stood beside him, both dressed in their night-garments and wearing expressions of surprise.
Morwen re-sheathed her dagger, staring at Damrod helplessly.
'It was…' she began, though the words soon died on her tongue.
'The Shadow. We have seen it at work tonight.' Damrod supplied as he slid to the floor.
'You have ventured out at this hour? Damrod, what were you thinking, putting yourself and your sister at risk so?'
'Papa, it was I who compelled Damrod to go. I would have gone alone, save that he hindered me.'
Andreth waved her hands dismissively, as though at the moment this was the least important issue to be discussed.
'Tell me exactly what you saw. Spare no detail, trifle though it may seem.'
At length, they both offered all they had seen, heard, and smelt, shuddering at the memories.
'Why? What madness would lead a good people to orc-worship and turn their eyes from light to the dark?' Angelimir murmured in shock.
'This is yet another weakness of Man, dear husband. That we cry when times are evil, and turn to evil out of tedium when times are good.'
'You say that we make battles for ourselves, when there are none to be fought, out of idleness?'
She nodded her wizened head.
'Men seek battles so they may win honour and glory: wishing to be recorded among the Great in the books of Lore. And the nature of shadows may seem fair to them at first. 'Come, friend, wherefore dost thou slave in thy gardens, when yet others sit idly in the shade feasting upon what thou have reaped?' And yea, the words would seem wise, save that later, and bitterly, they would learn that He would have them slave in His garden, with little rest and no reward.
'Eldarion is dead now, and the Shadow grows more bold.'
'Then the Shadow hath spoken to you?' Morwen asked, eyes wide.
'Aye, though I shall say no more on the matter.' Andreth replied firmly.
'All this is fine,' Damrod interjected, breaking his long silence and finally standing from the floor. 'Yet what are we to do about it?'
All eyes turned to Andreth, who stared straight ahead and said nothing for many moments.
'We can do nothing, save wait. The time is not yet ripe.'
'Wait? While more people fall to folly?' Damrod banged his fist against the wall. 'While yet more people go missing?'
'These people are not missing. They are heading East. Tell me, how can you stop a bird from returning to its nest?' she directed the question to Damrod, who promptly answered:
'Ruin the nest.'
'So we must wait, you see, for we know the direction, but not the location of this certain nest.'
'More to the point,' Morwen muttered, 'We need learn the nature of these birds, and the nest they build.'
'Tomorrow, I shall bring all we know before the King, so that he too may keep his eyes and ears open.' Angelimir said, and so concluded their exchange that night.