Cysne's notes: Ok, remember Hîmac? Let's just say that he mysteriously and inexplicably changed his name to Orcharion, shall we? Lol! Thanks everyone for reading! Your words drive us on! (I really have to convince Helluin to write these notes one of these days...) ENJOY!!!! ;)

Ainu Laire: Er... thanks for the review? *cringes* What can I say?... sorry? Not really. Trust me, Eldarion will make a great King! *evil grin* I'd probably feel the same way, though, if someone killed off my fave character... Here, have a handkerchief! ;)
Spaces appear between letters? Like this: "lair¨e"? You're probably pressing space after the accent key, or pressing the accent key twice. It's supposed to be accent (once) and then immediately the letter. If that doesn't work, then maybe your computer doesn't support accents (come to think of it, I have seen warnings on some web sites concerning this), or has some stupid 'automatic correction' function activated... I've used computers that insisted on putting a tilde or a diaeresis over the "u" whenever I'd write "qua", others that transformed the letters into little rectangles, and one that kept turning the "î" into ""! So, I really don't know, could be lots of things! Let me know if any of this worked once you try, though! =)

Star-Stallion: You think we're evil? I'll have to agree... lol! Don't know about updating, though. We've reached a delicate spot and really have to ponder for a while about what is to come after this... Anyway, tripled thanks to you for your continuous reviews! They're all wonderful!! =D

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Chapter IV: Lineage


The party rode hard into the White City, their faces as grave as their news. In their midst, a horse with no rider accompanied another which had two. It was still night and the smooth stone surface of the road and houses seemed to be just one solid curtain of grey.

The city guards met them first, as would happen with any other visitor, but instead of the usual routine inquiry, expected to be made upon anyone who arrived thus in the middle of night, they ushered the group inside, sending someone in advance to wake the ruling steward.

The few warriors who had remained from the original group did not dismount until they were down at the Houses of Healing.

When Faramir entered the Healers' working chambers, he met barely a fifth of the group that had ridden out on that fine autumn morning nearly two weeks past, but, worse of all, he found one sinisterly still.

His knees buckled and he could not contain the cry that escaped him. "What happened? I wish to know every detail!" He demanded of anyone that would hear. He spent the remainder of the night by Elessar's cold body, listening to Orcharion's report of the events of the Anórien fields. He did not sleep for that night, choosing instead to keep vigil over his King.

He would have to gather the counsellors and tell them the news as soon as possible, a decision on Gondor's ruling needed to be taken, but not so soon that he would not have the chance to face Arwen first.

Trusting the Healers and the warriors to keep the issue secret until after the council had been assembled, Faramir left the infirmary houses. His sombre mood and heavy steps hastened to find the unknowing widow of Gondor.

Arwen was sitting peacefully on a balcony overlooking the city of Minas Tirith warming by the copper rays of the new sun. Her three little girls were playing by her feet with their dolls, occasionally nudging her for a story, and Eldarion stood, gracefully leaning against the handrail, supervising their games and trying to look mature.

Arwen was proud of all her children, all were strong and fair, and she loved singing to them old songs of Imladris, remembering with nostalgia the days of the Elves.

Eldarion, no matter how much he told himself it was childish or girlish, was always the one who listened to her stories more intently. It was so this time, until he saw Faramir approaching with urgency written across him. The Prince called his mother and she looked as well.

"My lord Faramir, we have not had the pleasure of your company for breakfast. Is something the matter?" The Queen politely asked, delicately rising from where she was sitting as well.

"My Lady," he bowed. "I'm afraid more than just something is the matter, I bring grievous news. I think it would be better if we were to speak at some other place?" The steward glanced significantly at the three girls on the floor and his demeanour frightened Arwen, who, in her heart, already knew what to expect.

"Eldarion, look after your sisters while I talk with Faramir," she directed at her son, not really wanting or expecting to hear an answer.

She let Faramir take her hand and lead her inside the palace to a deserted chamber. He asked a servant to bring tea, before entering, and then joined Arwen, who had already sat herself before a lit fireplace. Her poise was as regal as her real stature, but not entirely free of tension, and Faramir understood that, somehow, she knew.

"It is said among men that elves have the gift of foresight. I never knew whether it was true or not." He said, breaking the ice.

"Not entirely." He noted her eyes were starting to glisten and inwardly cringed at what he had to say would do to her.

"My lady Arwen, I know no other way to say this, but..." She gently silenced him with a stare, and at the same time that tears started to shed she spoke in his stead.

"Then speak not, for it is not needed. You came to tell me he is dead, haven't you?" Faramir couldn't help being shocked, even though that was hardly the last thing he expected to hear from her. He'd already noticed there was something about her. He intended to ask next how she had found out, but Arwen read that also and presented an explanation even before he spoke it.

"Not all elves have the gift of foresight, but one thing that they all have in common is the strong bond they share with their betrothed. I knew it the moment I saw you."

Faramir was at the edge of his seat in front or Arwen's, extending a comforting hand that she gladly took. She did not move, weeping only for a long time. The atmosphere in that room had become funereal, both dense and still, but quiet and soothing at the same time.

The calm was interrupted when the servant knocked on the door and brought in the requested tea. Both Faramir and Arwen were startled, for they had forgotten that the rest of the world was still there.

"And what now?..."

~*~

The counsellors grumpily entered the stone conference room which they were all so tired of seeing, upset at being called for a last minute meeting. One by one, they dropped to their usual seats around the table. Faramir and Eldarion were already there, waiting for them, and Arwen sat farther to the back in silence.

"I do hope this doesn't take long. I have a wife and family waiting at home and I promised I'd go out with them this afternoon..." The last one to arrive said as he plopped down, causing his chair to scream at the dramatic increase of weight.

"Honestly, Faramir, I'll have to agree with Herion. Is this really necessary?" The one to the immediate right of the fat man added.

"I'm afraid so, my lords. A shadow has fallen upon our Realm, one that none of us could have expected." The steward began.

"Speak up, and quit the rambling, lord Faramir!" Another counsellor interrupted him, leaning forward in his chair. Faramir closed his eyes, inwardly rolling them and begging the Valar for either patience or the chance to finish his sentences without any of the men before him criticising this or that. As far as he could tell, putting up with that committee was nothing less of a miracle.

"Very well then," he glanced at Eldarion before continuing, his patience thin, as if looking for permission or perhaps apologising. "My lords, the King is dead, and if you think your meals more important than the matter at hand, then, by all means, take your leave for you are free to do so!"

The ones who had spoken shrank back into their chairs, temporarily resigning to their obscurity. Those who were more cordial and had remained silent were visibly shaken with the news.

"The party was attacked in Anórien," he continued. "The numbers of their foes were larger than anything we could have ever expected from here. In fact, the only reason why some of them made it back was because they had stayed behind upon reaching the village that had been assailed."

A general sigh was heaved. While some of the men were feeling somewhat guilty that they'd allowed the King to go with such little protection and because only of his impetuous mood at the time, a few of them were still too shocked to think.

"We have much to discuss. Succession must be decided." Faramir concluded.

"But there is no question there. Prince Eldarion is the Crown-prince and sole heir to the throne." One of the ambassadors from Anfalas said, waving at the lad. The man was seldom seen in the capital, and that justified his favourable opinion of the Prince, for the others were very against it.

"But, of course, in the meanwhile, Lord Faramir, as the Steward of Gondor, will hold the regency." Another man opined, not wanting to openly say he did not approve of the immediate crowning of the Prince.

"I think that the Prince is ready to assume his father's place. He is-" Faramir tried to argue in favour of the Prince, but, as before, his word was cut off - the Valar had not attended his prayers.

"Not yet of age and lacks the necessary discipline!... I have to disagree with the ambassador on this one," Herion provided as an alternate ending to what the steward was going to say. This time it was not Faramir's patience that faltered, Eldarion decided to take his defence into his own hands.

"My Lords, I realise now that many of you still see me as the youth that would run into the meeting room, this very room, asking his father to play with him while serious affairs were discussed. Know this, you are very mistaken there. I have learnt well from my father, and my tutors, the ways of ruling. As for my years, I am merely months away from my turning of age. I would also appreciate it if you'd addressed to me personally when talking of me in my presence." Eldarion said in a row, stopping only for impact. After a brief pause, he almost sweetly added:

"And I am certain that under the guidance of lord Faramir and of this wise council, whatever lack by inexperience or short age I may have will promptly be corrected and perfected."

Faramir risked a side-glance at the Prince. He was surprised with his sudden maturity, wise words and resolution, as much as, he was sure, the rest of the council.

Whenever Elessar would take Eldarion to attend the meetings, one was more likely to find the Prince absolutely enthralled in counting the number of ants going in and out of the fringe beneath the door, than actually listening to the tedious talking.

Herion, who had clearly self-appointed himself as the spokesman of the day, nodded slowly, eyes wide. He was evidently impressed with the Prince too.

"The council has recognised Prince Eldarion's words and valour. Lord Faramir, we know where you stand. Let the rest of the assembly decide." Faramir took the hint and gladly guided both Eldarion and Arwen out of the room. After the door had closed behind him and he was sure they would not be heard, he addressed them.

"Those political rats will stay there in conference for some time. You two should go rest, it's been a long day. I will send word to you as soon as they reach a decision. And... well done Eldarion!" He said with a smile.

"Thank you, lord Faramir. You are most gracious." Arwen replied with a slight curtsy in her son's place, feeling more proud of him than ever, and walked down the corridor, taking him with her.

~*~

My dearest lady Éowyn,

I trust all goes well with you and Ithilien. Unfortunately, not all is the same here in the capital. I regret to inform you that tragedy has stricken Gondor, for our good King Elessar fell upon an attack of orcs in Anórien.

Word reached the city today, and I spent the day in discussions with the Kingdom's advisors and ambassadors, and all other sort of polite gentlemen that feel they have a say on the case... You know well how I fell that they lack the energy and will to govern properly.

To my utter surprise, though, on this memorable day, the conclusions that left that room were astoundingly wise and considerate. Eldarion will become King, retaining only portion of his powers until he becomes officially of age. The council and myself shall hold keep of the excluded ones till then.

However, neither could we expect their resolutions to be without fault. The population will only be informed in three days from now. By then, the preparations for Eldarion's crowning ceremony should be completed and that is in fact their intent. To say the King has passed on, and immediately present a new one.

As you might imagine, Queen Arwen and the children were devastated, but are bearing it graciously. This whole event had an unforeseen effect on the Prince. Though he truly mourns the loss of his father, at the same time he seems to have turned his sorrow into strength and aged at least a decade, becoming incredibly responsible. If you would remember him correctly, one of his favourite diversions was to run around after his sisters and tease them to no end. Well, no more of that.

I miss you terribly, my dearest Éowyn, but unfortunately I'm required to stay in Minas Tirith for some months more, at least until Eldarion's turning of age. And how could I possibly leave Queen Arwen by herself? I have a feeling I will be sorely needed by more than just the Prince.

I promise to return to you as soon as the situation permits it.

With all my heart,
Faramir

~*~

Legolas was feeling quite cheerful, for Gwilor and him were almost reaching the southwest edge of the forest. It was showing great signs of recovery. Some trees were abundant on the thick green leaves that gave the forest its name, while others were irreversibly dead. Sauron's corruption was seen there too, for his bastion of Dol Guldur was near.

But the power of Lady Galadriel, although having disappeared with her departure, was still felt. The protection she had once placed upon Lórien had extended all the way there, and the trees that didn't die were growing once more.

By the end of that day, the two travellers were by the same latitude of Dol Guldur, and thought they could just make out the fading light of a golden mist in the West bank of the Anduin. Legolas' heart immediately felt nostalgic, and, at the same time he promised himself to visit Lothlórien soon, he looked up and, in the distance, saw how three tall peaks tore through the high grey clouds. Memories of the darkness of Moria quickly erased his nostalgia of that old journey and he encamped to end another day.

The next days were both uneventful and ungrateful, with the elves never-endlessly walking north, with the forest on their right looking progressively greener and the persisting silence that accompanied them since the Emyn Muil.

At the end of the eighth day after departing Ithilien, the duo finally arrived at the Road that led to the depths of the forest. They decided not to go in that day, they were tired, physically and mentally, and the sun was almost setting behind the Misty Mountains. They camped near the edge of the outer trees, Legolas thinking to himself that he should see his father in two days or, in the worst case, the day after that.

Next morning, they finally entered the forest but, as soon as he set his foot inside, Legolas immediately felt watched. It was as if thousands of unseen eyes were following every movement he made. Wielding his bow for the first time in days, he took an arrow from his quiver and readied to shoot the first thing that moved near him as he moved forwards. Gwilor had felt it too and did the same, but since after an hour had passed (or what seemed like one to them, for they could no longer see the sun) they saw nothing moving, they relaxed a bit, and allowed themselves to move faster.

After a while, they noticed a small clearing opening to their left and went to look at the sky. It was a cloudless early November sky, and the Sun hadn't reached its top yet. Returning to the road, they proceeded with the journey until they were tired and stopped to eat. They sat by a great oak tree that sheltered them from the cold blowing breeze and ate serenely. After finishing their meal, the two friends sung a little to break the forest's silence that pierced into their ears.

When Legolas got up to stretch his legs, however, he heard a loud roar and more than twenty orcs suddenly erupted from behind the trees, surrounding the two in less than five seconds. Taken by surprise, Gwilor, who had his weapons far from where he was, was quickly rendered unconscious and Legolas could hardly unsheathe his small knife when three orcs jumped on him; two of them died, throats slit, but the third managed to grip his arms on his back and called another orc, a smaller one, to bind his wrists. Still awed by the presence of the foul creatures in the forest that seemed so peaceful, he took a painful blow in his nape and the last thing he saw was the orcs breaking into laughter.


TBC...