Chapter Thirteen, Messenger

When Atùvinel returned to Minas Tirith, she went to the palace at first to change her clothes and wash. As she sat in front of a mirror, pulling her hair back into a braid, a knock came on the door.

As she called for them to enter, she bound the end of her hair together with a leather thong. Her dress was plain and sensible, in a dark blue that would not show any stains she might pick up as easily. A messenger entered her room, in his hand he held a letter. He was a man of Rohan, clearly distinguished by his flowing golden hair and his tall stature. He looked around her rooms in wonderment.

"From the Battlefield my lady."

"I thank you." She took the letter from him, "Are you needed back tonight?"

"No, your highness. I am due to return within the week though."

"Were you, yourself, on the battlefield?"

"I was, Lady."

"In that case you must rest here for the night. Come." She stood, sliding her feet into slippers and leading the way out of her room. "I will take you to the kitchens and as you eat I shall read your message and I would wish to talk to you."

"It would be a great honour my lady." He said with feeling.

She led him down from the rooms she inhabited, he was clearly surprised by how she treated him, so cordially and politely, asking him if he wanted something to eat or drink. What startled him still more was that she greeted the servants who walked past and fixed his drink, and her own, herself. He had begun to help, but she had ordered him to sit and allow herself to do it. The cooks were clearly used to that, as they talked to her casually.

She handed him the plate, which held bread and a hunk of cheese and a slice of cold meat and a tankard of ale and led the way to a small study. She sat down at one end of a small square table, putting her mug of spiced juice down and gesturing for him to sit.

They talked deep into the night, of many things, such as the war, and his home, until a girl came from the Houses of healing.

Atùvinel stood at once, hearing the man's chair scrape backwards on the flag stones as well.

"What is it?" She asked.

"It's the Prince of Rohan m'am" She sank into an awkward curtsey. "He's woken up!"

"Thank the heavens!" She turned back to the messenger. "Come with me again, I ask you, so you can see how Prince Elfwine is and bear news back to King Éomer and my father on his health."

She set off down the path at a run, her skirts gathered up in one hand and the messenger followed. She entered the houses of healing and at once went to Elfwine's room where she found him struggling to get out of bed. Before he saw her, she heard him order the healers who were trying to hold him down away. They had to obey, he was a prince and with in reason, his word was law until a higher authority overruled him. He pulled the sheets aside and cried out in pain. Stifling another cry he asked.

"Where is Princess Atùvinel? She is in great danger."

She moved forward,

"I am here. Now lie back."

"No!" He struggled to rise.

"Princess…" One of the men started forwards, as princess of Gondor, and the steward while her father and brother were away, she could overthrow Elfwine's commands.

"Wait." She hurried over to his bedside, and placed a hand on each shoulder. "Elfwine, lie down."

"I will not!" Still he struggled and she tried to hold him down, before realising that she could not hold him down alone. "You two- help me."

The two manservants came to her side and took one of his arms, gently lowering the prince back down onto the bed.

"Where is Atùvinel?" He cried, whipping his head from side to side as he tried to break free. "Where is the Princess of Gondor?"

"She's here milord."  One said, jerking his head towards Atùvinel. "Begging your pardon your highness." He added, fearing he had been rude.

"It is fine. Elfwine, I am here." Atùvinel came to sit on the edge of the bed, taking one of his hands. "He is burning with fever! Get some cold water." A healer scurried to do her bidding. She dipped a cloth into the water and bathed the prince's sweating forehead gently, slicking back his sweat dampened hair. "Elfwine, it is I, Atùvinel."

"You lie! You are not she."

"I am." She brushed the manservants away when she saw he was too spent to be able to rise again. She wet the cloth again and cooled his arms. "I am Atùvinel, Princess of Gondor and Minas Tirith."

"Prove it to me." He coughed roughly.

"I am Lady Nenya, and I ride the white horse Nafalon, sired of Shadowfax and Asfalof." She paused, but he did not speak. She carried on wetting his skin as she spoke.

"I learned the bow from Legolas Greenleaf, and the sword from your father's sister, the Lady of the Rohirrim, Éowyn. I bear the blade Sithelon, given to me by my mother's kin of the woodland realm of Lothlorien."

"You have not proved yourself to me, these are things all could know."

"You are stubborn Elfwine." She sighed and continued. "I fell in the lake as a child and almost drowned, until my father rescued me. Eldarion and you got into such trouble for challenging me to swim across the lake when you knew I couldn't swim." She sat back and recalled more memories. "You brought me my first bridle, made for Nafalon when he was a foal."

Atùvinel didn't stop Elfwine as he tried to sit up, instead she helped him to rest his back against the headboard of the bed.

"And you gave me this jewel, before you left for war. And my mother said you bade her tell me 'Happy homecoming'."

Shakily, Eldarion reached out a hand and lifted the gem off her chest, where it lay on her chain.

"It is true, I did give this to Queen Arwen to give to you. Atùvinel? Is it you?"

"It is indeed." She pulled the bedclothes up higher on his chest and pushed him back to relax. It was only when he glanced at her hand in bewilderment that she realised that her hand was still resting on his bare chest. She withdrew it quickly, blushing slightly.

"You were saying that I was in danger?"

"You are in grave danger. There is a small army of Uruk-hai and Urûkans coming for the city. And for you. They have orders to carry you off to Agaron's stronghold in the east."

"How many?"

"One thousand at least. Two thousand at most."

"So many? And we have so few defenders."

"They want to crush Minas Tirith and Gondor, and sow the fields with salt so nothing will grow there again."

"They drew my father and brother off, and the army as well."

 He nodded. "I am sorry, Atùvinel. But they took the bait and now the trap is being sprung."

"It is." Atùvinel stood. "I am glad you are better Elfwine, do you feel up to getting out of bed."

"You try and stop me!" He said, trying to get out again. Atùvinel sat once more, by his hips and pushed him down again.

"I will for another hour at least. I need to summon the generals that remain here with us, in the city. Most have seen too many winters. But we will do what we can. Master Healer?" The chief healer came to her side immediately.

"Your highness?"

"Hold Prince Elfwine here." She said firmly, and when the prince began to object she glared at him and continued. "On my orders. He is not to be allowed to get up until the bell tolls, summoning him to the war chamber. Only then can you permit him to dress and send some men to escort him to the chamber. Do what ever you see fit to keep him here, use force if necessary, bolt the door." She walked towards the door and exited, before poking her head back in the room. "And remove his clothes from that chair; let's not make it easy for him to escape." She smirked at Elfwine, who made a face at her before leaving.

"You heard the Lady Nenya." The healer said as he gathered up the Prince's clothes. "And I wouldn't advise disobeying her. She will not be pleased if you arrive in the Chamber of war until after the bell. Where else would you go?"

"You make a good point." He acknowledged.

"But if you are in need of anything, summon us and we shall give it to you, if it is within our powers and Princess Atùvinel's commands."

"Thank you. I will do so."

But Elfwine simply sat there, turning a small locket over and over in his hands as he thought of what was to come.