A/N: Guess no one's reading... LOL, probably given up because of the huge time it takes to update, died of heartbreak, or just has no interess. Oh well, if you happen to exist, THANK you, silent readers, eheh! Anyway, hearts up Aragorn-fans: a little light for you in this chapter! It's about as much as I can give you for now! And bear with me a little longer action-lovers, the time for councils and talking (a.k.a. "lame attempt at suspense") will soon be over! Real action draws ever nearer!! Pardon again for the bad english, I've got no beta, unless you want to count that stupid MS Word spellcheck that insists that Faramir's name is Farmer... useful, huh? x.x'
lindahoyland: I realise there's a 9/10 chance you won't ever read this, but I insist on answering your review! I really apreciated it, even more for it's sincerity! I guess I'd feel the same way, eheh... So, thanks mellon! ;)
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Chapter VII: Under New Light
Eldarion was sleeping peacefully the next morn, content under the warm sheets, with a breeze slipping in through the slightly parted windows to caress his face and ruffle his ebony hair. The Sun was high, but he didn't know that yet.
His door slowly creaked open and in stepped his mother. Arwen, ever-gracious, ever-delicate, watched over her grown up son's quiet sleep and sat down beside him on the bed without disturbing. So many things had happened in such short a time, and so much had drastically changed. Her son being not the least of those... she was more proud of him than ever. Proud of how much he'd grown to meet what others expected of him, proud of how well he was dealing the responsibility that had fallen over his shoulders.
She had felt her heart would break beyond mending when she'd seen Faramir those days ago. Her love was her life, she'd given up so much to be with him, and even though her father had always warned her that a day like this would come, she'd always hoped that somehow the Valar would be kind enough to not let it ever come.
But now it had come and he was gone... what was there left for her in this world? Elves were extremely sensitive, and once they pledged their love to someone it was eternal and not to be changed by anything. To keep on living without Aragorn... a sob involuntarily escaped her lips.
"Naneth?..."Eldarion woke to find his mother's shaking frame before him, hiding her face in her hands. He sat up and held her at once, rubbing her back to try to pass on some sort of comfort, but she kept on crying on his shoulder. "Mother, hush... please don't cry..."
He was at loss as to what to say or what else to do and desperately hoped his presence would already mean something. Of course he knew perfectly what this was about, no need to put it in words, but he couldn't help feeling surprised seeing his dear mother go down like that. He realised that no matter how much he missed his father – and the last nights he'd spent awake staring at the ceiling were proof of it – his mother probably missed him even further. He was human, but also half-elven, and now berated himself for not thinking sooner on how difficult these days must have been for her. He hadn't even considered that and felt somewhat guilty for relying on her so much and not giving some of it back.
"Mother, please... everything's going to be fine... we'll be fine..." He held her shoulders and leaned back to stare directly into her eyes. "We'll get through this... but we have to be strong in the meanwhile, alright? You have to be strong..."
Her eyes were swollen red and showed nothing but tiredness in that face he loved. Eldarion was so used to seeing her as beautiful and full of vitality, that the sight shook him to the core of his being.
"Oh... how long has it been since you last slept or even rested, mother?" It was so uncharacteristical of her that it felt like looking at someone else, and it disturbed him beyond reason.
"I'm... I'm sorry, my son... I didn't mean for you to..." Arwen was going to apologyse for breaking down like that in front of him but their eyes met and she found that she didn't have to. She held out a hand to touch his face and carefully traced the contours of her son's eyes. Eldarion thought it was better to let her do whatever it was she intended, also because he had no idea of what to do himself.
She gently brushed his knitted brows apart, willing him to put on a more relaxed expression, and felt the firm cheekbones beneath the soft skin, so like hers. Finally, she cupped his face with both hands and pulled him closer, resting her forehead in his and looking at her son straight in the eye. Eldarion's eyes were so much like his that for a moment... for the most fleeting moment... she thought she saw her love look back at her from those depths. Through their son, he lived. Eldarion just saw her eyes softly lighting. "Yes, we are..."
He didn't even consider asking what she meant with that, so happy was he that her moods had lifted. He could feel her lithe body relaxing and saw her close her eyes. It seemed sleep had finally caught up with her and he gently laid her down on the bed as best as he could without disturbing her, fetching a blanket to cover her.
Hastily putting on some more appropriate clothes to go outside, he halted on the doorstep and glanced back at the fragile form on the bed. He made an oath to himself to put his griefs behind him and look more after his mother. He'd never seen her so vulnerable and it hurt him... the oath reassured him, and renewed strength surged through him. Eldarion didn't understand where it came from, it didn't seem to belong to him or even to the world he knew, but at the same time could be more than familiar. And he realised he did know what Arwen had meant before falling into the world of dreams.
They were going to be all right.
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It was later than he thought and he hoped he hadn't missed anything important while he slept. New things were happening all the time at hallucinating speed, and he was feeling utterly lost.
There was so much for him to learn, a whole routine. For instance, where was he supposed to be when there weren't any meetings with the councellors? Was he even supposed to be anywhere? Who were the people he could rely on, apart from Faramir? And come to think of it, what were his immediate duties? Nothing had been settled about the attacks on the last meeting but surely he should be pondering over the situation, perhaps summoning everyone for a new reunion?
Yes, he was lost. And there were so many things in his mind, he felt like he was carrying a tray full of precariously pilled items ready to fall at any time. And the worse was the acute knowledge that he couldn't possibly dismiss or forget about any of those things. Keeping up with all of them was the hardest to do, but now he guessed the most urgent was to find the place where he could deal with them.
And so it was that he wandered more or less aimlessly through the vast halls of the palace, feeling more and more the need to curse the obstacle of such grandure into oblivion.
He was so focused on his thoughts that didn't even hear the steps coming from the corridor in front of him. He did get to have a close touch with them, however, as he collided head-on with Faramir rounding the corner.
"Terribly sorry!" Both blurted out at the same time. Then they looked at one another and realised who it was.
"Faramir..." Eldarion begun, relieved to find him just when he was needing some guidance. He was about to ask him if there was anything he needed to do, but the Steward anticipated him, held his arm and pushed him somewhere.
"Eldarion! I've spent the whole morning out looking for you! Where have you been?" He opened his mouth to reply, but Faramir had found a mark and dragged him towards a door. "Here! We need to talk!"
They got inside the deserted room and Faramir closed the doors shut behind him, motioning towards the desk and chairs on the other side of the room that seemed to be an empty study. Once both were seated, Faramir produced a folded map from under his tunic and laid it out on the table surface.
"I've been doing some research and some thinking since yesterday. I don't like this thing one bit, nothing adds up and I don't like to not know what to expect. I've come to some conclusions of sorts but nothing definite..." He started explaining, and Eldarion nodded looking at the scribbled map.
That Faramir had been busy was beyond doubt, several routes were signaled in various colours and even more hid behind those, erased. The young King thought he recognised some and their meaning: the road that connected the Shire to Gondor, the one from Minas Tirith to Anórien... "What's all this? And what are these numbers at the side?"
"Yes, I'll get to that in a minute..." The Steward was serching through the drawer on the desk and finally found what he sought. He placed another paper, blank, on top of the map and nervously fingered a pencil. "Now, let me explain. So far we've gotten word of three attacks. One, Anórien. And the other two, on the Shire and the Grey Havens." As he spoke, he was signaling the events on the paper.
"Now, the first thing I thought about was whether or not these three or rather two, since the Shire and the Havens can count as one, strikes were somehow connected. Do you emember when I said that there must have been another force at game in the North? I wondered if it could have been the same group of orcs from Anórien." The Steward pointed at a red line, connecting the village to Bree. Eldarion noted how long it was.
"You think? But how would they have the time to get from one place to the other? Even if the Hobbits were slow to travel..." Faramir smiled.
"My thoughts exactly! And what would possibly cause a large group of orcs as this one to make such a long journey? Especially one to the Shire, there are no repported sightings of orcs for quite some leagues round so they must have come from somewhere not that close! And orcs as they are now, without a leader, would never travel for such a long distance without an exceptional cause..." he pointed out.
"Then you think that Anórien and the North have nothing to do with each other?"
"I didn't say that, though it is what it would seem. There's nothing to indicate that it is otherwise." Eldarion acknowledged, somewhat relieved. It felt like one less thing to worry about. "Except that... those orcs were pretty organised, wouldn't you say? It almost seemed they were expecting to find the King there..."
Eldarion was shocked. "You mean to say that it was intentional?"
"I mean nothing with certainty. It's highly unlikely, that's not the behaviour one would expect from orcs, but nonetheless it is something we cannot discard just like that... I have a feeling there may be more to this than what we can or are being allowed to see."
Faramir was filling the young King with dread. Eldarion found himself fearing the lands South of the Entwash, but tried to catch himself before it got too far.
"What do you have in mind?..." The Steward lowered his gaze, carefully picking his next words.
"If indeed there's more to this, then the orcs would have to know that the King would be going out himself... and that is not something very likely of happening on its own..." Eldarion realised where the other was trying to get.
"A traitor...?"
"It's the only explanation I can find. But it would only make sense if..." The youth cut him off.
"But who would do such a thing? Who had both the position and the motives to do that?... Faramir, who knew exactly that my father was going?" Eldarion became very serious all of the sudden, not exalted or surprised, just dead-serious. Faramir answered him slowly.
"Apart from your family, only myself, the table of counsellors and the soldiers who accompanied him North. Those last were informed only the day prior to the departure, after the decision was made, so I don't think there's any chance of this possible traitor being among them. Besides, their loyalty is unquestionable."
"But that leaves only the counsellors! Surely not..."
"Which is the reason why I wanted to see you here in private, before we summon them. I personally don't like them, but I don't think they'd do such a thing either. They may have many faults, but surely not this one."
"But you still preferred seeing me alone first..."
"Just being cautious. The actual probability of any of these things being true is... almost ridiculous. I think that for now we can leave Anórien and focus on the North. We could ask King Éomer of Rohan for help to deal with that."
Eldarion hesitated before agreeing. The matter concerned Gondor, but Rohan was a close ally, and King Éomer was a true friend. In the end he said yes, but would insist that they informed the Rohirrim of the possible dangers of that threat. "All right... and about the North, did you find anything?"
"I'm afraid not. I went to talk to the Elves again, hoping they could tell me something more, something they could have forgotten before, perhaps. But they were with your mother and I didn't have the chance to press them much. Though, they did say there was nothing more they could add."
"What about the Hobbits? Did you see them?"
"No, but I don't think they know anything else either. They're a quiet people, and being rushed from Shire to Bree to Gondor like that I don't think they'd retain much more information other than what they already told us."
"Right. What do you think our next step should be? Send our army North as soon as possible or perhaps something else?"
"The decision to make war must be approved by the table of counsellors... but as far as my personal opinion goes, I'd say it is something we cannot run away from." The Steward's face was grim, he had hoped to never have to go through that ever again. Why was it that something as simple as peace was so difficult?
"I see... and what's all this you scribbled here on the map?" Faramir smiled again, and Eldarion knew it wasn't nearly as important as the other things he had to say.
"Well, like I said... I did some research yesterday and... I was trying to find out who those Eastern attackers were, what could their homeland be. Those numbers are counts of days and distances, etc." Eldarion was gawking at the amount of little calculations.
"Faramir, have you slept today?" The Steward barked a laugh, then answered, rubbing him eyes at the same time.
"No, not really..."
"Could it be that I'm the only one on the palace that's actually been sleeping lately? Go on Faramir... when you're feeling more rested, we'll gather the council. Again..." The Steward heavily sighed.
"And I just can't wait to face Herion..."
TBC...Review?... Pretty please? ;p