A/N: Ok, death would be a suitable word for us now, wouldn't you say? Just don't murder us, because after this chapter we're back to the same scheme... uncertain updates, and I mean UNCERTAIN... if anyone still remembers what this story's like (my congratulations, btw) and would like to know when we next update, leave your address on a review or send it by email and we'll tell you right away! SORRY FOR THE WAIT, PEOPLE, AND THANKS FOR READING THUS FAR!!!
Star-Stallion: thanks for the review, mellon, our dear and most faithful reader, and sorry for the loooooong wait... Legolas will be ok... I think... well, at least for now... eheh!
Ainu Laire: You think that getting beaten u is better than a quick death? Er... right... but don't think Legolas' completely off the hook either, we're still not sure whether to kill him off too or not... LOL, kidding! ;)
Niani: We refer "book fics" too... LotR is such a masterpiece that it certainly deserves to be taken into account! Now, as for Aragorn...
Szhismine: Hi!! You've been missing yourself... the wait for your fic... you're as bad as me... LOL! Faramir will have plenty of things in his hands real soon, and Legolas too... but I won't say a word more, there...
A person who loves LOTR: Thanks for reading!! Well, we thought that there are so many good fics with Aragorn out there that you wouldn't mind too much if we improvised a bit... doesn't make sense, does it? Oh well... oh, and saying that it was spanish was a major insult, but we forgive you! It's portuguese... To keep it short, the reason is we're kinda focused on other fandoms right now... ;p
Chapter V: Of Bloody Hobbits
The long-expected day had a glorious start. The sun couldn't fail to contribute and gold beautifully peeked behind the mountains to clear the steely sky that yet insisted on clinging to night's dark indigo. The whole atmosphere in the White City, even the very air, announced an important event for the people of Middle-Earth - the day in which a new King would rise to the throne of Men had come.
Eldarion woke up somewhat uneasy, he had barely managed to fall asleep with the excitement, and when he did, dark dreams had filled his mind, even though he could not recall precisely what they were about. More than once had they woken him in the midst of the dark, only to find the shadow of the richly adorned clothes lovingly set by his mother the previous day jeering at him by the moonlight. That helped in making him remember what was about to happen the following day, and it helped also in making his sleep even worse.
That morning began with a fierce fight with his breakfast, forcing it to get past his rebellious throat that insisted on remaining far too dry and clenched for eating. It was then that Faramir chose to enter his chamber in order to discuss the final preparations for the coronation. (see note at the end)
"Good morning, my lord. How do you feel?" He asked, in an overly bright tone that Eldarion made sure to remember to forbid as soon as he was King.
"Not very well, if you must know, but I guess I'll be fine", came the grim response. And the Prince looked like it, too: circles were forming under his eyes and he was somewhat pale. The Steward paid it no heed, he remembered well how Elessar had looked like in his coronation and knew that once the Prince left the palace and felt the wind and sun in his face, everything would change.
"Good! Now, I have some more advices to make, try to remember them all. It's very important you do, because they're part of Gondor's tradition!" Eldarion stilled the piece of bread that was en route to his mouth, his face filled with disbelief. "When the crown arrives from Rath Dínen, I'll take it and place it in your head. There's also a sceptre that I'll hand over to you. But remember this, you will then turn to your subjects and, if possible, give them a smile. They will like it. But be sure not to flinch, or they'll think that you are perhaps too... impressible to be already a king. You'll have to give them an air of confidence, of someone they can trust their lives to, but not too authoritarian either... moderate and just would be good. «Wise beyond your years» would be a good motto too. Or simply wise will do. Got it?"
"I think so...", Eldarion answered, getting slightly more nervous and a little bit whiter, when he thought of all the things he had to do with a smile. But that was not all that Faramir had to say, he had plenty more "advices", and, as the talk developed, he grew steadily more and more unnerved. At some point, he felt he couldn't take it any longer and told his Steward that he'd understood and needed to be alone for some minutes, before the great ceremony.
Half an hour more passed, and the sun was now starting its rise, when queen Arwen came to his room, giving his outfit one final check, and spoke to him some encouraging words. He smiled back at her, relieved that her advices were not as complicated as Faramir's, but also because he knew that he would not be alone. There were people behind him giving him support. Thankful for that, he kissed his mother and sisters, and left the room for the gate of the tower of Ecthelion, where Faramir was giving some last-minute orders while awaiting him.
As soon as the guards opened the gate, a huge cry erupted. It seemed that all of Gondor's people had come to attend the ceremony, and even a few from the northern territories were there. King Éomer and a small committee from Rohan had come to greet and congratulate the young King. He encouragingly smiled to Eldarion when he walked past, on his way to the central throne.
"Surprised by the number of your subjects, my lord?" Faramir asked him from his side. Eldarion barely made out the words, his Steward was a terrible ventriloquist, but he did not answer. He was too overwhelmed to pay real attention to what was being said. "It seems that there are no representatives from the Shire, but I expect they will arrive still today."
Eldarion sat on the throne, set at the top of the stairs, miraculously according to Faramir's instructions that he'd forgotten about. Then the city bells heavily rang, announcing midday and, at the last ring, a parade came from Rath Dínen, the Silent Street, bringing the mithril crown from king Telcontar's grave wrapped in a wine-coloured velvet cloth. At this sight, Eldarion's face turned suddenly sad, ultimately realising that he'd be taking his father's place. He stood a bit straighter in the throne and his thoughts suddenly became a lot clearer, chest filling with pride.
As the traditionally dark-clothed guards of the tower approached the throne and Faramir took up the shining crown, time stilled and Eldarion slowly stood up, looking at the distant horizon, trying to avoid everybody's gaze. The Ephel Dúath rose still grimly behind the mighty Anduin.
Faramir came closer, kneeled and, at a prince's nod, came to his back, ceremoniously lifting the ancient crown and cleanly leaving it to rest atop Eldarion's head. At the same time, a servant handed the silvery sceptre to the new King of Men.
A large acclamation came from the audience, but not just cries of celebration and joy were there to be heard. To the far end of the courtyard, the people started making a path for someone to pass, a great turmoil accompanying the movement. Eldarion was looking at Faramir, wondering on what was happening, when a soft wind blew from the East and threw some of the White Tree's leaves to his feet.
Once the rustle got near the stair's edge, the guards intervened and spread the crowd, to reveal a group of four hobbits. All of them bore wounds, and all looked thoroughly exhausted. Everyone froze at the sight.
The hobbits halted at the last degree of the stairs and bowed to their King, faces almost surprised to have found and identified the crown-bearer so easily. Looking at the murmuring crowd, Faramir hastened to get the newcomers inside the palace, along with the King and all the counsellors he could unite at that time, quickly dispatching a messenger to summon the others. As the doors of the council chamber closed menacingly behind them, the King could not help but to give a scared look to the arriving party. This matter was undoubtedly grave and he hoped he would be able to stand up to it.
The remaining counsellors arrived, minutes later, looking concerned and demanding explanations. Faramir gave Eldarion a tiny push so he would take the initiative and ask the hobbits as to what had happened. The King stood, and with a determined voice, inquired the outsiders.
"What evil befell on you, that forced you to, hasten across the lands wounded like this? Are you the representatives from the Shire?" As he had finished his question, the doors slammed and another group, this time of elves, came inside, escorted by some guards. They also had a grim air, though their wounds looked less foul.
Now thoroughly concerned and confused, king Eldarion turned to them and asked them to join the meeting. Back to his place, he turned to the hobbits once again, waiting for their answer. The one who seemed older stood, grey curls clinging to his sweaty forehead, bowed and sat again before beginning his speech.
"I'm Podo Loamsdown, son of Grigory Loamsdown, and we here come from the East Farthing of the Shire. We've been attacked by orcs and big-folk that came from the West Farthing some weeks back."
"Big folk? You mean humans? Elves?" One of the counsellors wasted no time in interrupting the short fellow, looking sideways at one of the Elves that was still taking a seat.
"I mean humans," And at the man's offended expression he added, "but not like you. They were dark, dressed in red, with scary shields and spears."
"Haradrim..." Faramir slowly hissed to himself, looking to a spot in the air, as though remembering something that happened long ago. Eldarion looked at him and thought he knew exactly what was on the Steward's head.
"You said they came from the West Farthing. Are you sure? How could they have gotten there, they'd have to pass through Gondor!" The King asked, but it was not the hobbit who answered.
"I'm afraid the hobbit is correct, my Lord. My name is Agaroth and my group and I have just arrived from the Grey Havens. The Haradrim came from the sea and attacked Mithlond with a great force. We had no chance to defend the city, they drove us out from the sea-side. And their numbers... they were immense",a wise-looking elf answered.
"What happened to the rest of your folk?" Faramir asked, concerned.
"We would not know. Círdan sent us away just before the end of the battle we would lose, to warn the other peoples in their way and to ensure these tidings were brought to Minas Tirith. We were captured, though, before we arrived at the Shire, so the Periannath were taken by surprise. We managed to escape shortly after, but alas!, it was already too late. A scorched ruin of a once prosper and fair town was all we found." The elf added.
"And you, halflings?" The same counsellor, Herion, asked the old hobbit.
"We ran off to Bree in the beginning of it all, so we don't know for sure. But we don't think they made any captives, 'cause when we got to that city, it was already devastated and we found no one there..." The old hobbit replied, with a leer to the man he was very much starting to dislike.
"But that's terrible news!" Eldarion said, mournful. "I wonder why all these sudden attacks? Anórien, Mithlond, Bree and even the peaceful Shire! Who's behind all this? I didn't think the Haradrim would be able to pull off something like this after all the losses they've suffered in Sauron's time..."
He had to let his words sink in, nothing made sense and he wasn't sure he could believe in it. But then he turned to his most trusted counsellor, "What do you think of this, Faramir?"
Faramir didn't answer immediately, but remained thinking to himself for a while. "I think we should send out riders to find out more about the situation in Arnor, especially in Fornost. If all this is true, we will probably have need to send an army to defend it", he finally said. "Can you tell me how many were they?", he asked the elf.
"I can't say exactly, many of them never left their ships, but probably four thousand hands." The elf replied.
The counsellors looked at each other, utterly perplexed. "Two thousand men?!", Herion, who had leered at the elves in the beginning, audibly gasped. The elves did not reply, but stared at him with piercing eyes as silence settled in the stone chamber. And then...
Footsteps. The King was hurrying to the door and nearly yelled to one of the guards "Send the swiftest riders we have to Arnor and Fornost at once!" The guard nodded, alarmed by the seriousness of the King and ran off, heading towards the stables.
"Now we need to summon an army to face them as swiftly as we can, my Lord. It is obvious they will not back away unless challenged", Faramir added, looking to Eldarion, both proud and concerned. "The riders should take about two weeks to get there and return, so we should be prepared when they arrive."
"You take care of that, Faramir, please." Eldarion requested, still standing by the door nodding his agreement. The rest of the counsellors looked sideways at each other. "Do you have anything else to tell us? Any further information?" Eldarion asked the foreigners.
"No, my lord, we told you everything we knew", the elves replied and the hobbits shook their heads in denial.
"Fine. You must be tired from your journey", he finally said to the hobbits. "Mondrod! Take our small guests to the Healing Rooms", he said to another guard, who nodded and left the room with the little folk. "Geldor! You will escort our elven guests to the Healing Rooms as well. Give them what they ask", he said to yet another guard.
"We would like to see Lady Arwen, if it is possible." Another elf, who had been quiet throughout the entire meeting, suddenly asked.
"Of course. Take them to my mother." He added to Geldor. The guard nodded and guided the elves through a corridor on the right.
"Now, I believe that's all. Does anyone wish to add anything?" The King asked the council.
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. What will you tell your people?... Your coronation was rather abruptly interrupted..." Herion remembered.
"Oh, right. What do you suggest?" The newly-crowned King asked.
"Well, our folk isn't very concerned with the affairs of the halflings, I doubt they'd ever even heard of them before the Great Battle, so I think we can just tell them that their far away country was attacked and they asked aid from us." Herion brilliantly answered in an incredible display of his superiority towards the King, which, however, Eldarion failed to notice.
"Yes, I suppose you're right", Eldarion said. "But I don't think we should refer the elves. We do not want our people too worried."
"Yes, my lord, I completely agree with you. It shall be done."
"Well, I believe that definitely settles it all then. Let us hope the situation to the North is not as dire and grim as it was painted here today." Eldarion concluded and dismissed the council.
The counsellors wasted no time in emptying the room, leaving Eldarion and Faramir alone to confer about all the events that had taken place.
"Very well, my King, you did very well indeed. Beyond any of my expectations, I should add, considering all this happened in your first day, well, minute!, as a King. Ill luck..." Faramir said, pensively.
"Thank you, Faramir. But I only managed this because you were there to support me and help me make the decisions..." Eldarion answered.
"I could not interfere in your decisions in front of them, and you know it, but I'm glad I was of help. Besides, why do you think this whole council exists? Managing such a Realm as yours is a tremendous responsibility... one too big for just one man's shoulders to bear", Faramir replied and it seemed to lift the young King's spirits. It was true, in his first day of rule, he had already been put through some of the worse things that could ever happen to his Realm, and so far, he'd done well. "However..."
"However?" He asked Faramir, who was staring at some far point on the tapestries that covered the floor. "What?"
"Didn't you notice the way Herion kept challenging you? First when you asked me for my opinion and then when he asked you about the disruption of the ceremony... perhaps the counsellors are beginning to regret their decision of making you King..."
"What?!" Eldarion cried out in exasperation. "The minute the crown falls on my head, four bloody hobbits land in front of me saying that the Haradrim are invading the Realm I should be protecting but of which I still hardly know, and those counsellors expect even more of me?! How-"
"Peace, my King, peace!" Faramir interrupted him with a smile.
"But what more could they possibly expect from me?!"
"Nothing more than what you already proved capable. You are still young and somewhat inexperient, but you'll quickly learn, I'm sure. But there is something else, and you were actually quite lucky no one seemed to realise it, otherwise I'm sure Herion would be happy enough to shove it in your face as well..." Faramir cryptically stated.
"What are you talking about?" A calmer Eldarion inquired.
"The hobbits said they'd left the Shire for Bree before the Haradrim attacked it, and yet, by the time they got to Bree it was already destroyed. I've never been to Bree or the Shire, but according to the maps I've studied here, Bree is to the East of the Shire..."
"I don't follow, what does that have to do with anything?"
"Well, the elves said the Haradrim came by sea, from the West. So, either our maps are wrong, and I certainly do hope so because the Haradrim would never get to Bree without passing through the Shire first, or... there is someone else coming from the East – by land – that is also attacking us and helping the Haradrim... And worse of all, whoever they are, they are powerful enough to do so..."
TBC...
(note) An alternative dialog Helluin stumbled upon:
"Good morning, my lord. How do you feel?"
"Like I'm jumping from the Mindolluin knee, on fire."
Faramir's face turned suddenly very white, and the next moment, blood was spilled all over the room.
"Oops.", Faramir said, "Looks like I'm gonna be King after all." And he left the room, singing merrily. (ring's theme)