Chapter Eighteen; Trustworthy.
"Hooom! This is a strange thing you ask of us." Treebeard stared down at the two hobbits. "But then, you always were a hasty folk."
"Will you help us?" Pippin said hastily, before the Ent could begin speaking again.
"The Ents did much before." He said slowly, "and we are now not the strength which we were before. No, Masters Peregrin and Meriadoc, there will be no great march of the Ents again."
The hobbits exchanged a look, they had expected that answer.
"However, we will carry on disposing of Orcs and this new breed if they should wander into our lands. But, I must warn you that they have grown wiser now, and they avoid the forests."
Treebeard stood from the table he was reclining on and easily gathered them up and placed them in his branches. Slowly he began making his way towards the edge of the forest. "Their new master is cleverer then young Saruman was." He continued.
"If men find their way to the forest, will you harm them?"
Treebeard stopped suddenly. "Who is it who sent you to ask these favours from me?" he asked. "You seem very determined."
"We were sent by Aragorn's daughter, Atùvinel." Merry answered
"Why not by Aragorn? Is he dead? I forget that time passes slower for us here in the woods."
"No!" Pippin exclaimed. "At least not to our knowledge. But he is of battling the orcs and Atùvinel his daughter, is the Princess of Gondor he left her in charge when he went to battle."
"I see…" His voice rumbled as he trailed off. "We cannot help you in the way that you ask." He finished eventually, "though the battle you came to ask me about is no doubt over already."
"Yes." Pippin said, "But there will be more battles."
It was early morning when Atùvinel and the men under her command set out to return to Minas Tirith. Their pace was slow, as the wounded were being transported on stretchers sluing between two horses. Although she believed that the remaining orcs had fled into the wilderness and returned to their master in Mordor, on Bergil's advice she had still set a guard on the column, and outriders scouted the road before and after them. It was one of the scouts that brought her the news. He galloped up, beside the column of men until he reached Atùvinel.
"What is it?" She asked, instantly fearing an ambush lay ahead of them.
"There are soldiers approaching us, and they bear the standard of Gondor."
Atùvinel smiled her hand dropping from where it had landed on the hilt of her sword.
"My father must have returned home then, at last, and sent these men to aid us."
Turning to Bergil, who was riding by her side, she commanded,
"Inform all the captains, and have our standard unfurled once more."
He nodded, and went to do her bidding as she rode to the head of the column. The men began to talk softly as she passed, knowing that they were drawing close to their homes and that the other battle had been won.
They rode for a while longer, Atùvinel still at the head of the column, when Bergil rejoined her; she turned to face him, a broad smile on her face.
"Surely Father, or Eldarion, or even the Prince of Rohan will be with the reinforcements?"
"Perhaps they will be Princess, but they may have remained in Minas Tirith." As he saw her face fall he continued, "But we will hear news of them from the captain in any case."
"I…" Before she could continue, another scout rode up to them.
"Your highness, they are but a league away now."
"Good." She beckoned the captain forward,
"Have the trumpeters announce our presence." She ordered. "We don't want to be attacked by our own men."
"Yes, my lady." The man bowed slightly in the saddle and returned to his position before the company, giving orders as he did so. The change in the men was obvious, as soon as the first note from the trumpets rang out, their weary expressions were wiped away and they strode forwards more determinedly. Atùvinel turned back around and smiled broadly, glancing over at her banner flying in the wind. She knew exactly how they felt. Their battles were over, for now at least, and they had been victorious. She hung her shield on the pommel of her saddle and took off her helm, handing it to the man at her side who helped her slip it into one of her saddle bags. She struggled to maintain a serene expression, and failed as her relief and joy shone through.
The captain of the reinforcements rode as warily as they did, having also been warned that an armed host approached them. His men were weary and jumped at any movement, having just come from the Battle of the Wastelands and barely arriving at Minas Tirith before being summoned to ride to Atùvinel's aid.
A cry from the scouts went up as other host was spotted, riding over the crest of the hill. His sword was in his hand without a thought until his second in command laid a restraining hand on his arm.
"Nay My lord Orndor, it is the Lady Narya, I recognise the emblem on her banner. My wife described it to me before we set out."
Orndor slid his blade back into his sheath, a smile forming on his face at the sight of the host, their mail shining silver, not dulled by blood, and the standard flying proudly. He threw up a hand, commanding his men to halt. Only he and his lieutenant rode on to meet Atùvinel and Bergil as they rode ahead of the rest of her troops to greet him.
"Well met Princess Atùvinel, well met."
"And to you, Captain. We ride home from a hard battle." She replied courteously.
"How went the battle?" the captain asked, although he could already guess her answer from the general demeanour of the men following.
"They will not trouble us again."
"Congratulations are due then your highness, for a successful first command."
"Thank you my lord." Her face darkened slightly with worry, "before we turn homewards tell me, what of my father and brother? And the Prince Elfwine? And my mother?"
She was suddenly transformed from a victorious young warrior and commander to an anxious daughter.
"They all are well." Orndor smiled reassuringly. "The Princes both wished to ride with us, but the King bade them stay, as he thought you were more than capable of winning this battle without our help."
She smiled, in pleased embarrassment.
"Then let us return to Minas Tirith, to prove that I was worthy of his trust!"