Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.
A/N: There is a lot of exposition here. I am sorry for the info-dump. Next chapter we go to Rohan – and to war.
Luin stretched in the seat and began his tale:
"Long ago, when Sauron was but the lieutenant of Morgoth, the Key was forged in the darkness of Angband. For Morgoth in his heart feared the Valar, his brothers and sisters, and the will of Eru, and knew that if they overcame him he would be cast out from the world. The Void was the one thing he feared most – and against this eventually he made a Key – a door, or perhaps you may think of it as a thread. He bound himself, in part, to this world with it's help, so that even if he was overthrown he might find a way to return."
"This story sounds over-familiar." mused Arwen. "Echoes of the One Ring."
"Yes, and perhaps it was in Angband that the seeds of that idea were laid down in the mind of the Abhorred, for I suspect that he had a part in its forging. And it was to Sauron, Morgoth's most trusted lieutenant, that the Key was given, to keep it safe until such time that it was needed."
"But when Morgoth was cast out to the Void…"
"Then Sauron turned against his once-Master. No craft of his could destroy the Key, not entirely, but he took great pains to ensure that it would never be used. It was split into three pieces; two he sent to the East to be hidden, and one kept with him. There were hints of it's existence in the annals of Númenor; we know he had it then. After that – who knows?"
"And who is we?" asked Arwen, slightly snappish. "Who are you?"
The door to the throne room slammed open; a brown robed figure entered, brandishing a staff of oak and shadowed by two apologetic looking guards. "Alatar, you old fool! Explain yourself at once, or get thee hence from your stolen hroa!"
"Radagast." The form of Celeborn stood and bowed, a little stiffly. "I will vacate my host when the story is done, and no sooner. This is a matter of great importance, and I have wasted enough time seeking a form able to withstand my presence long enough."
Aragorn waved the guards away, offering the newly arrived Wizard a seat, which he took gratefully. Alatar likewise sat. Radagast glared at him. "I know it's important. Why do you think I'm here? But if you're going to tell the story, then get on with it." To Aragorn and Arwen, he said "Alatar and Pallando were inseparable. And insufferable, but that's a different story. Soon after we arrived on the shore, Pallando uncovered rumours of a device that would allow Morgoth to escape his imprisonment, and he and Alatar headed East to try and find – and destroy – it. Saruman went with them, but for different reasons, and according to his story they went their separate ways before long, and he returned, while they did not."
Alatar nodded. "That much is true. Saruman did not think much of our search – which was fairly fruitless to begin with, but Pallando was insistent, and we moved far to the East in our search for information. Everything that we found suggested that at least two pieces of the Key were to be found there. Eventually, we found the first piece. Even the sight of it made grown men feel ill – it resonated with pure malice. Yet Pallando seemed excited – no, overjoyed – to have found it. Every method we tried to destroy it made not a single mark. No weapon, no magic, no fire or forge could so much as dent it." He looked troubled. "I wished to return with it to the West, to let the Valar attempt to destroy it – or at least contain it. But Pallando… perhaps I should have seen the signs. He insisted that we continue onwards, to find the second piece. He said once that it sang to him. I could not in good faith leave him alone with that thing, and I dared not try to take it from him."
"So Pallando fell." murmured Radagast.
"Aye." said Alatar. "After all that we had struggled to find the first piece, finding the second was almost easy. As if it wanted to be found. And Pallando – he tried to put them together. He said it was the only way to find the third, but in my heart I knew that he had succumbed to the temptation of Morgoth. Even from beyond the circles of the world, the dark Vala had managed to corrupt him. And so I fought him, and after a battle long and bloody I fled west, the second piece in my possession but my physical form wounded beyond repair. I went as far west as I could, before with the last of my power sealing myself – and the second piece of the Key – in a cairn surrounded with the strongest wards I could muster."
"But that tomb, which should have remained forever inviolate, has been breached." said Radagast. "The second piece has been found." He glared at Alatar again. "Not an event that would have gone unnoticed by any with power. Darkness in the East stirs… and there will be no more aid from Valinor, not this time. If the Darkest is released back into the world – you do not need me to tell you, Elessar, of the war that we would fight then."
"King Elessar!" One of the guards came hurtling into the throne room, bowing even as he skidded to a halt. "The beacons…"
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"We will send as many as we are able, but we must reinforce the borders as well. We cannot take the chance." Éowyn's brow furrowed as she considered just how many that would be. "Halifirien is on the very edge of the Eastfold, Beregond. My brother would have had to send Riders there to have it lit… there is no time for more delay. I should hope that Elessar has already sent reinforcements from Minas Tirith."
"Yes, Lady Éowyn, and he leads them." Beregond fidgeted. "You say the Prince is unwell? Who then will lead your troops?"
"I will." Any arguments Beregond might have been thinking were quelled with a look. "I promise you, I will not put myself on the front lines." Unless it becomes absolutely necessary. "But this is a duty I owe twice over – once to my brother, and once to Éomer King. Legolas' people will fight for us as well – I will see to it. And our enemies will learn the folly of pitting themselves against the Riddermark."
She sent riders to the Elves, to ask for their assistance; and Beregond went with her men, to organise the warriors of Ithilien. They were nothing if not efficient; she had no doubt that they would be readied by nightfall; they would leave at dawn. Only when all she had to do in aid of Rohan was done, only then did she allow herself to retreat back upstairs. She ought to rest, after all.
The healer met her at the door. "No change. He sleeps still."
Still was the word for it, for Faramir lay as still as the dead, for all he breathed yet, for all his heart beat. To think that she had woken early that morn, and slipped out of bed, dressing for her morning ride in the dark because she had not wished to wake him. When she had returned, he had still slept, and her laughter as she scolded his sleeping form for his slothfulness had turned to concern, and then horror. She took his hand, reassuring herself that it was warm yet. "What have you done for him?"
"There's no fever, no sign of injury at all." The healer looked apologetic – Éowyn had the sudden urge to slap her for it. "We cannot heal what isn't there, your highness. We tried what we could, but-"
"Thank you." She had no wish to listen to a litany of failures. "You may go." She locked the door behind the healer, restraining her temper only just. Heaving a sigh, she quickly stripped off to her underthings, curling around Faramir and stroking his hair away from his face. Eventually, lying there listening to him breathe, sleep claimed her, and she slumbered, but did not dream.
A/N: Halifirien is the name of the western-most beacon. The setup of the beacons is such that it's much more convenient for Minas Tirith to call on Edoras for aid than the other way around, but there's no reason to say that it couldn't be done. Hroa=body. The Riddermark is the name of Rohan that the Rohirrim themselves used, and the Eastfold is… shock, horror, the name for the eastern part of the Riddermark.