Chapter Sixteen; Duty.

Atùvinel sighed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear and absentmindedly clipping it back as she pored over maps of the region. Her face was lined with exhaustion, this was her first campaign and, although she had the help of older commanders, the final decision had to be hers, and she found it hard to send men to their deaths.

But she did the best she knew how, and they had won two crucial battles against the Urûkan army, pushing them back to the base of Emyn Arnen, back to where they had come from, Minas Morgul. But they had lost men as well. A helmet sat on the table beside her, and she wore her sword belted at her waist. She was waiting for a horn to sound, and summon them to battle once again. The Urûks didn't seem to tire, instead they attacked both at night and during the day. They had been caught by surprise by the first attack, and had lost about fifteen men that night. Now Atùvinel had posted the Dûnedain among them in the woods, ready to sound the alarm if another ambush was prepared. Most of the men were asleep though, and deservedly so, they had fought many hard battles in the past week.

"My Princess!" Bergil came into the tent. "You need to rest."

She sighed. "I know. But I can't sleep."

"I will watch for you," he offered, "and I will let you know at once if anything changes."

"I didn't mean that." She sank down onto a chair, "I am weary, but I cannot fall asleep."

"What keeps you awake then?" He asked. He had been her guard ever since she was a girl and he understood her best out of all the men at the camp.

"Worry. Fear." She said softly, cradling her head in her hands. "If Agaron was able to take over one mind, he could do the same to others. I don't know who to trust."

"Trust yourself." He counselled. "And sleep now. There is no more you can do and worrying will not aid anyone."

She rested her hand on his forearm and nodded slightly, heading into her tent. She was the only female in the camp, and had her own tent, next to the commander's area. She was guarded by four faithful soldiers, knowing that it was unlikely that Agaron would be able to control all their minds at once, and so she could sleep safely.

With a wince at the sound of grating metal, Atùvinel pulled off her chain mail and laid it on a low table beside her bed roll. She changed into a fresh shirt and breeches. Even when she was sleeping, Atùvinel had to be prepared for battle, her sword belt was wrapped around her wrist and her other hand touched the dagger beneath her pillow.

She laid down on her bed roll, pulling the cover over her. Almost at once she sighed and kicked it off. She was feeling too worried and too guilty about the deaths of her men to be able to sleep tonight. She walked out of her tent, belting her sword around her waist once more. Quietly, nodding at the men guarding her, she walked among the green tents, seeking something, anything, to give her rest and peace.

Then she crumpled, right at the edge of the camp, just to the side. She is the warrior Princess! She shouldn't be feeling this way. She shouldn't be feeling this wretched. Stifling her sobs, she crouched on the ground, for once in her life feeling afraid and alone. She was so afraid…

How could her father and Eldarion put up with this? Or was she the only one to feel like this? Was she the only one who couldn't stand the sight of the broken bones, who, in battle caused others' deaths, who felt so ashamed and worried if a decision of hers had killed more men than necessary. She just wanted this war to be over, and to be home. Biting her lip, clutching at the roots of her hair, the Princess of Gondor and the White City cried alone beside a battlefield.

Meanwhile, although it was late at night a great host pressed towards Gondor's main city. They were eager for the sight of the white tower and to see their families again. As they came upon the Pelennor fields, a great trumpet call went up from the battlements. Great bells soon took up the call.

Aragorn dismissed the host on the Pelennor fields. He thanked them for their bravery and courage and then some left to reach their homes, if they did not live in the city.

And so it was a diminished army that rode towards the city. They could see the city light up, as fires and torches were lit. A crowd, each person holding a flaming torch before them, stood in front of the gates, looking anxious, scanning the ranks for a loved one. Some burst into tears of relief, others into tears of dismay.

Aragorn and Eldarion leapt off their horses and went to greet Arwen and Elfwine who stood at the very front of the crowd. The first thing Elfwine said was,

"Where is Atùvinel?"

"Why?" Aragorn asked, worried. "Where is she?"

"You did not know?" Arwen asked, as they began to walk into the citadel, leaving the other citizens to reunite with their men, or bemoan their loss. "Orks came a week ago, Atùvinel left with most of the remaining men to battle them."

"What is this?" Aragorn exclaimed. "I heard nothing of this."

His queen laid a hand on his arm.

"We heard from her only yesterday, she is fine and they have pushed Agaron's arm back, almost to Minas Morgul. She and the army are at Emyn Arnen."

Eldarion cried out

"We must ride to her aid Father! Summon the troops back!"

"No," he sighed, "They are too weary. But we will send the men who remained here to guard the city to her aid. We must not go with them though."

Both Princes began to argue with him, but he held up a hand to forestall them.

"We are needed here, to reassure the people of Gondor that Atùvinel is capable to do this, and that we trust her."

But his gaze moved to the East and his eyes were troubled.

Later that night, the King and Queen spoke alone in their rooms,

"They were coming to take Atùvinel?" Aragorn asked, as Arwen nodded, he cursed slightly. "Then Agaron does know of the prophecy." He stared out the window, his face thrown into harsh relief by the moonlight, reflecting every crease in his skin. "We only just got her back Arwen, and now she leaves again, and is in danger of her life."

"I watched my family ride off to battle one by one." Arwen said quietly, from behind him. "First you and my son, and now my daughter. She knew I didn't want to let her go, Elfwine tried to persuade her to stay as well, but she knew what she had to do, even though she was afraid. She is doing her duty."

A hand rested on Atùvinel's shoulder, but she didn't stir, he rolled her over gently, and found that the Princess had cried herself to sleep at last. Slowly, so as not to wake her Bergil picked her up in his arms; as if she were a child and he carried her towards her tent. He had looked after her ever since she was a child. He had helped train her; he had sat with her and discussed anything she wanted. He had bandaged her wounds. To him, she was a younger sister, and he cared for her deeply. He placed her on her bed roll lightly and covered her with the blanket.

He then resumed his usual place outside her tent. If she, a frightened young girl, separated from her family and fighting for her life every day could pretend nothing was amiss in front of the men, and do her duty, so could he.