By DarkRiver (darkriver@cyberdude.com)
Author's Note: The characters herein belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, not me and appear without the author's permission, of course, since he's all dead and stuff. For anyone wondering why Amrothos is living in Rohan, either read "Wicked Games" or (if NC-17 Slash is not your cuppa) then just accept that he is a very dear and close relation to Eomer. Other than that, all the continuity you should need is in the movies. That being said, this is basically book canon, but I filtered in a little of the movie continuity for extra flavor.
Rating: PG
Chapter 10
Year 15, 4A
Eldarion and Elfwine skulked through the darkened corridors. Their caution was perhaps more than was needed. Their night door-guard, Freth, had not even awakened. And no one who saw them gave them a second glance.
Still, they felt like burglars.
"What was that?" Elfwine whispered.
Eldarion frowned at him. "Nothing, just like the last three times you asked."
Elfwine muttered under his breath and continued to follow behind the slender figure of his friend. The door to his father's chambers was unguarded, and when they pushed, it opened easily.
Elfwine had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, though. He had not been into the inner sanctum in years and violating his father's privacy this way did not sit well with him. His only reassurance was the knowledge that he was just here to look for a library and he would not touch his father's effects.
They padded on bare feet through the sitting room, past the ornate stratagem board and through the door beyond. This was some sort of anteroom. It was very small and had numerous chairs along the wall.
The two boys shared a brief look and then pushed into the bedroom beyond.
The air was stale, having been closed up in here for weeks. It smelled of burned-out candles, oiled wood and his mother's perfume. It was dark, very dark, the moonlight blocked by the shutters.
Elfwine and Eldarion lit candles and separated to explore the room. The furs on the floor were very soft, so much so that their footfalls made no noise at all. The silence was eerie and unsettling.
Elfwine's gaze took in an array of trinkets; a hair-comb with swans on the handle, a helmet with Theodred's symbol upon it, a horse doll that could have been either Eomer or Eowyn's. Each one was a memory, a piece of the past.
"Win..."
Elfwine came to where Eldarion was looking in a large wooden chest. There was a swath of cloth crumpled on the floor next to it, something Eldarion had swept aside. The trunk was open and there were scrolls and bound stacks of parchment piled up inside it.
Elfwine took up one packet and studied it. "Definitely old...I can barely read it." He started sifting through the trunk, catching names and places he knew to be significant. Certain they were on the scent now, they began to remove everything and examine it.
At the very bottom was a large leather-encased roll. The case was embossed with many symbols, one of which was definitely a dragon, and the other was a hammer. Elfwine took it out reverently and untied the laces binding it.
The leather came away to reveal a tightly rolled length of cloth. Elfwine's hands trembled slightly as he unfurled just the first foot of it.
"This is very old." He traced his fingers over symbols embroidered into the cloth. "This is how most of our people wrote in ages past." He gazed at it in wonder.
"Is it what we're looking for?" Eldarion asked.
Elfwine did not respond, simply pointing at the very first symbol his eye had caught. His fellow heir leaned in close and drew in an excited breath.
It was of a man leaning on a giant hammer.
Wordlessly, they wrapped the cloth back in the leather case and then returned the other scrolls to the chest. Careful to leave everything as they had found it, the two took their prize and stole back to their rooms.
The answer was in their hands. Now would come the difficult task of deciphering it.
Eomer studied the map intently, running options through his head and formulating plans for the assault. Strategy had always been Theodred's strength, not his. He pushed that old pain aside and bent his concentration on the task.
A comparatively cool breeze had replaced the miserable heat of the day. It was something the weary army desperately needed. The journey south into this unforgiving land had been brutally hard on man and beast. Now that they had arrived, they all required a day of rest before the fighting could begin.
Amrothos' light step was barely audible behind him. Strong, certain fingers began to knead the tight muscles of his shoulders.
"You can keep staring," Amrothos murmured. "But the picture won't change."
Eomer grimaced. "These Haradrim certainly know how to build a city."
It was bitterly true. The rear quarter was protected by a steep slope that fell sharply away from the city, nullifying the power of his cavalry and making siege engines equally useless. Both flanks of the city were wide planes of jagged rock with treacherous sinkholes. His men would have to pick their way carefully across these planes, under fire from arrows every step of the way.
The only possibility was a frontal assault -- which was by design, he was sure. There was a narrow road leading up to the city. The ground around the roadway was uneven, but not impossible to traverse. There was some cover to be had, though not much.
The losses would be awful, unless he could think of something fairly brilliant. But he was a cavalry soldier in his heart. He was most comfortable with the simple and straightforward clash in an open field.
"Curse them for their fortifications anyway," Amrothos said lightly.
"This is not...funny..." Eomer was having trouble focusing under the soothing assault of his friend's deft fingers.
"No, it isn't, but you won't let me talk you out of this. So..."
"It's a question of honor."
"It's more than that, and while I am moved by the gesture, I don't care to have all the death on my conscience."
Eomer tensed. "They hurt you."
"Yes, and the ones who did it are quite dead."
"But not the ones who ordered it," Eomer said darkly. "And I can't really call things off now, can I?"
"I suppose not, but you could parley. They might surrender in the face of your earth-shaking might."
"Mocking me again, are you?"
"Old habit."
Eomer sighed and turned, taking Amrothos' hands in his. "It would be useless. Haradrim are stubborn, proud and fierce. They do not surrender."
"That sounds so familiar..."
"Stop that," Eomer complained.
"Very well...but on one condition." Amrothos' eyes sparkled in the torchlight.
Eomer did not need to ask to know what his friend was referring to. Amrothos' mind could usually be found in the same filthy place. However, because it amused him, he asked anyway.
"That being...?"
"You come to bed."
Eomer stretched and grinned at him. "I suppose, if you insist..."
"I do. And I'll carry you bodily if I have to."
The King laughed. "I really doubt you could."
"Perhaps not," Amrothos said with a wry smile. "You have become somewhat...padded."
"I have not," Eomer retorted with indignance
"But if were to, say, shed all unnecessary weight..."Amrothos suggested, twirling his finger in the laces of Eomer's tunic.
"You're insatiable."
"Unashamedly so," Amrothos replied with a broad and predatory smile.
"He's from where?"
"Hijaz, Majesty."
"And how far is that from Rhaabeni, which I believe my father is reducing to dust at this very moment?"
"Some hundred leagues, highness."
"What do we know about Hijaz?"
"We know where it is on the map."
"That's not terribly helpful."
"Yes, highness, but the Haradrim have rather selfishly refused to share with us all the details of their country."
"Are you disrespecting me?'
"Never, highness."
"I will call for the headsman..."
"I am the headsman, highness."
"Point taken." Elfwine shifted uncomfortably. "And this emissary wants to extend to us the hand of friendship. Has this ever happened before?"
"You'd have to ask someone who paid attention to his history tutors, highness. My guess is that it has not happened for many generations."
Elfwine was wishing he'd paid more attention himself. "And this man knows I can't sign treaties or really even formally acknowledge his offer of friendship?"
"He was told so, highness." Elfwine gave Erkenbrand a supremely confused look. "And you're ready to kill him dead if he tries anything?"
"Quite ready, highness," his regent said with obvious distrust and malice.
Elfwine straightened again -- he wished the throne wasn't so smooth, it was hard to maintain a regal posture -- and smoothed out his shirt. "Well...very well...show him in."
The doors opened and the diplomat from Hijaz entered the great hall. He was a large man with a belly that strained against the sash tied gaily around it. A fine, well-manicured beard covered his face, which was as friendly and open as any Elfwine had ever known.
He was followed by his page; a boy about Elfwine's age. The boy was staggering under the weight of several saddlebags, his knees visibly shaking.
"The Mark bids -- would someone help that poor boy?" One of the junior riders lounging against a wall came over, smiling, offering his assistance. Elfwine returned his attention to the emissary. "Yes, uh...where was I? Oh, the Mark bids welcome to the ambassador from Hijaz."
The man bowed deeply from the waist. "And the ambassador thanks you most sincerely for welcoming me into your home. My name is Abula al Bakr and this is my son, Jijinn."
"I'm...er...I am Prince Elfwine Eomerson. I am...well, I confess I'm not sure what I can offer you other than a place to rest after your long travels. My father is...away."
Abula smiled graciously. "That would most adequate, my young lord. It is my fault for delaying so long that I missed your father. I imagine he is looking upon the walls of Rhaabeni even now."
Elfwine paled a bit. "Er..."
Abula's smile did not falter. "It is no insult to me. Hijaz has little empathy for a man and a city who refuse to see the future."
"The future?"
"The dominance of Gondor. King Elessar's star is rising, and to oppose that is as foolish as to try to net the moon. The elders of Hijaz hope to cultivate a friendship with the men of the north and in that way to bring peace and hope to our people."
"That is certainly an admirable goal," Elfwine told him. "But I can't predict how my father or the King of Gondor will respond. They are honorable men, so I think you can rightfully hope for a bright future."
Abula bowed again. "Thank you, my young lord. Now, if I may refresh myself?"
"Of course." Elfwine stood. "Leuth, will you show him to some quarters?" The prince glanced at Jijinn. "And perhaps, if you can spare him, your son can join me for a small tour of the city?"
Abula glanced at the boy, who seemed vaguely discomfited by the suggestion. The emissary grinned and nodded. "I think I can indeed spare him."
"Sir!"
Eomer sat bolt upright in his blankets and reached for his sword, tumbling a deeply unconscious Amrothos out of the furs. There was a belated and muffled protest from the Dol Amrothian as he tried to collect himself.
Slowly, Eomer's exhausted mind focused on the voice and the face it was emanating from and then, with agonizing slowness, added that to the fact it was not yet dawn and so certainly not time yet to be awakened.
"Bared? What...what is it?" He winced, sensing an impending headache from having slept so little and waking so fast. Some part of him began inventing curses for the person responsible for keeping him up most of the night.
The youth who had done the waking, a junior rider and the King's standard-bearer, was looking very apologetic. "Eomer King...the white flag flies above the city."
Eomer had to think a moment to comprehend what city Bared might be referring to. "What?"
"It's true, sir. There was a commotion in the city--"
"A commotion? Of what sort?"
"We thought it sounded like fighting, sir."
"Fighting?" Eomer swore under his breath. "And why did you not come and get me immediately."
Bared's eyes darted very briefly to the disgruntled pile of Dol Amrothian before he answered. "You were...occupied, sir."
Eomer elected to not address that issue. "Very well...So, there was a commotion and then the white flag appeared?"
"Yes sir."
Eomer started getting dressed. "Wake the men. Tell Erchirion and Alphros I need to see them immediately."
"Yes sir!" Bared said crisply and departed.
"It's cold," Amrothos complained.
"Then I'd say you should put on some clothes, yes?"
"I think you bruised me."
"Rotho..." Eomer sighed, giving him an exasperated look.
Amrothos chewed on a nail for a moment. "Oh...very well. You're no fun at war, you know that?"
"Terribly sorry. But we may not be at war any more." He threw a tunic at his friend and slipped out of the tent.
Still yanking on his boots, he stumbled towards the bucket of water set out for him. It was indeed bitterly cold, which confounded him. The weather in this part of the world was apparently not governed by any god or reason.
Around him, the camp began to stir to life. There were the usual sounds of complaining men...and complaining horses. Neither were excited by the early hour. He smiled and splashed frigid water on his face.
A white flag...what was this all about?
Eomer took care of his morning business and returned to the tent for a quick breakfast of hard biscuits and strong tea. As he ate, Bared started strapping him into his armor. He was just flicking the last crumbs from his beard when Alphros and Erchirion entered the tent.
"Surrender?" Erchirion asked in surprise.
"Well, we shall see," Eomer replied cautiously.
"It has to be a trick," Alphros said hotly.
Eomer smiled at the young man. "It doesn't have to be, but it may very well be. Let's go have a look."
Amrothos grinned at his nephew. "Don't fret. There might be one or two you can tussle with."
Alphros glowered at that but said nothing.
With the dawn sun starting to spill over the camp, the four of them took to their horses and rode forth to the city, their men following behind. They spread out before Rhaabeni, out of arrow shot, and waited.
It was not long before the great wooden gates heaved to and a column of men on foot issued forth. They were a mixed group; a few soldiers, some men in poorly fitting militia uniforms and still others who looked simply like armed commoners.
They marched fearlessly towards the army, white flag held high. They all were showing signs of having been in a bloody fight, bandaged and limping as they were.
The bearer of the white flag came forward to within twenty paces of the army and planted the flag in the dirt. He shouted something in his own language and then prostrated himself on the earth.
The King of the Mark glanced uneasily at Amrothos, who was taking a moment to translate the words in his head. His brow was knitted with the effort of concentration.
"He says...yes, he says the people of Rhaabeni want no part of Kaeliz's wars and they offer tribute to the men of the west in exchange for mercy."
Eomer gaped in a most non-kingly fashion. "You are certain?"
"Well, possibly he said all westerners lie with pigs and wishes us to leave his lands and take our putrid stench with us."
"Rotho..." Eomer chastised tensely.
"Yes, I'm sure...Eomer King."
Amrothos only ever addressed him so formally in a teasing tone. Sighing, the King of the Mark gave him a look to inform him this was not the time for that and then he turned to Alphros. The youngest Prince of Dol Amroth looked absolutely despondent at the idea the enemy would forfeit on his very first command. He eyed the Haradrim reproachfully and nodded his assent to Eomer.
The King of the Mark returned his attention to the prostrated man. "Tell him we accept his surrender and we invite him to our table this evening to discuss terms."
Amrothos repeated the words in heavily accented Haradric. The man touched his brow to the earth again and murmured words even Eomer could tell were acquiescence. Then he got to his feet and, leaving the flag in the ground, barked orders to the group.
They turned and headed back to the city, parting around a group of prisoners in their center. These men were chained together and obviously badly beaten. Eomer was stunned for a moment before realizing these were the first tribute offered. With a hard look, he ordered the prisoners seized.
The King of the Mark then took the princes back to his tent for a quick conference. They all shared perplexed expressions, except Alphros who just looked angry.
"Can we be sure this isn't a ruse?" Eomer asked.
"Well, that certainly was Kaeliz among the prisoners. I recognized him even with all the bruises," Erchirion said with a satisfied smile. "So, I think we can be sure this isn't part of any grand scheme of his."
"But why turn on their leader now?" Alphros asked suspiciously.
"It's not inconceivable, from what we know of them," Amrothos murmured contemplatively. "He led them to a disastrous defeat at Dol Amroth and he's brought this army to their doorstep. They are fanatically loyal, but not in the face of weakness. So, if they deemed he failed them...a revolt is certainly possible."
Eomer sighed. "Well, we'll meet with their new leader tonight and see if we can agree on terms. Until then, I suggest we keep our men on alert; two hour watches so no one gets fatigued."
They nodded their agreement and went to give the orders. If there was some wickedness looming, they would be ready.
Jijinn was a quiet boy, very reserved and somewhat uneasy with the utter lack of formality at Edoras. Even once the princes had separated him from his father, he held fast to his rigid stance.
A tour of the city took the rest of the day, and while Jijinn seemed interested, he was also really worried that there were duties he was neglecting.
"Your father can get along without you for a bit," Eldarion assured him.
Jijinn shook his head. "It is not that he cannot, it is that he should not have to. It is a son's duty to assist his father."
Eldarion and Elfwine exchanged exasperated looks. "How about we go for a swim?"
Jijinn visibly perked at that, but he quickly clamped down on the display of emotion. "Surely there are things you must be doing, as you are in charge of your country."
Elfwine shook his head. "No. I gave myself leave to spend the rest of the day with you. Besides, the country doesn't require all that much attention."
"Well...I suppose my father did give me permission to relinquish my duties for the rest of the day..."
Eldarion grinned at him. "Indeed. And as the ambassador's son, you are almost duty-bound to make friends with us."
Jijinn almost -- almost -- smiled at that. "Your argument is very strong."
The two princes laughed. "Well, let's get to it then."
"I think my hearing might be failing me. Would you please repeat that?" Eomer asked, staring hard at Alphros.
The parley had gone very well. Ghazeri, the new lord of Rhaabeni, spoke very candidly about what he wanted for his people -- most of which surrounded being left alone by both their neighbors and the kingdoms of the north.
After everyone had departed, though, Alphros had lingered. The hot-blooded young prince had silently gone along with all that Eomer had said, which the King should have known to be suspicious of.
The Amrothian prince drew himself up to his full height -- which was still not enough to look Eomer in the eye -- and squared his shoulders. "My honor requires this. I must meet Kaeliz in single combat and kill him to avenge the wrongs he has done my family."
"No."
"Uncle, I must insist. My honor will not be appeased by his hanging." Alphros' cheeks were flushed with suppressed anger.
"And my honor will be forever sullied if I let you do this. To say nothing of how I would explain to your father why I am bringing your body home in a blanket."
Alphros flinched as if slapped. "You think I cannot defeat him?"
"Kaeliz may not be the most brilliant warlord in history, but he would not have gained his station without knowing how to swing his sword. He's a seasoned veteran."
"And I am well trained."
Eomer sighed heavily. He didn't think Amrothians came in this sort of unreasonable breed. His wife certainly knew the value of compromise. And Amrothos rarely if ever came to such irrational conclusions.
"You are captain of the Amrothian forces, but the command of the army is mine. As such, as your superior, I am declining your request for this boon. And as your Uncle I'm forbidding it."
Alphros' expression was flinty. "If you will not grant it to me as a boon, then I demand it as the price for Dol Amroth accepting the terms of surrender."
Eomer sat in his camp chair and gave him a disbelieving look. "You would be continuing the fight alone. The Mark is done here."
"So be it."
"You would kill people who have already surrendered. And get your own men killed as well. That's folly. A leader does not let pride--"
"A leader is nothing without his honor."
Eomer had the sincere desire to grab the young man about the shoulders and shake some sense into him. There were no good choices before him. Risking his nephew's life would go poorly with the stiff-necked Elphir.
But he could not allow hundreds of people to die...
"Very well, Alphros. But I hope you understand I think this is a very poor idea and certainly a betrayal of the trust you were given." "Thank you, Uncle," Alphros replied coldly and turned on his heel.
Eomer watched him go, frustrated. If Alphros survived, Eomer vowed he would have a long talk with Elphir about this. The heir of Dol Amroth was reckless and rash, never good qualities in a leader.
In one of the nicer guest quarters of Meduseld, Akim al Jediah was very carefully adding liquids by the drop to the unction needed to complete the contract. Poison mixing was an art, one which he had practiced for many years and was considered more than competent at.
His carefully ordered thoughts were a tranquil pond, disturbed only by one small inconvenience: the absence of Elboron.
The contract was for three princes, but the contract did not include a trip deep into Gondor. This presented a small difficulty; leaving one of the three targets alive would mar a perfect record and possibly effect future contract negotiations. Taking the contract to Ithilien, though, would require an additional fee which might not be paid.
Additionally, with two princes dead, the third would undoubtedly be put under much tighter security. That would not be insurmountable to an assassin from Hijaz, but it would again require further effort, which was not part of the contract negotiations.
Akim sniffed the vial of poison, contemplating. There was no help for it. Once the deed was done, a return to renegotiate for the third target would be required. Kaeliz was not known for his honorable dealings, so taking on faith that he would honor further expenses was simply not wise.
Contented in his decision, he took out a brush and began to coat the cutting edge of a knife with is concoction. It would be tonight. When the castle was quiet, the deed would be done and tomorrow no one would think past grief to look for the Ambassador from Harad until it was too late.
The army of the west arranged themselves in a wide circle, jockeying for a better view of the fight. For them, this was a welcome victory celebration. The air was charged with their excitement.
Eomer and Amrothos stood by, anxious and uneasy. The King, as leader of this army, had no choice but to be here, and Amrothos would not leave his side. But he felt only a gnawing worry inside.
Erchirion had, by contrast, avoided the spectacle and instead was seeing to striking camp. Eomer had initially thought the Prince was as angry with young Alphros as he himself was, but the burning glares from Erchirion's direction suggested otherwise. He had no idea what the Prince was thinking, but he knew he had to find out as soon as time allowed.
Which would not be until this madness reached its end.
Kaeliz was brought into the circle and unchained. He stood proud and defiant, as if willing to take on the whole army himself. Only the angry bruises on his face marred this arrogant stance.
Alphros came into the circle, unarmored and carrying two swords. Eomer almost had to admire the bravado...Alphros was putting himself on equal footing with his enemy so no one after could say it was not a fair fight. It was the sort of thing Imrahil would have done, Eomer thought to himself.
Alphros raised the swords over his head and grinned cockily at his men, who shouted cheers of encouragement. He threw one of the swords at Kaeliz's feet.
"Kaeliz, you made war on my people, on my family. I challenge you, here before this noble company, to a duel to settle this debt of honor. Will you accept this challenge as a man of honor?"
Kaeliz sneered and very deliberately folded his arms. "And after I kill you they stretch my neck. I fail to see why I would want to...entertain you."
Alphros tossed his head proudly. "In the unlikely event you are victorious..." The Knights of Dol Amroth laughed. Eomer felt ill. "Then you shall go free."
Eomer went ashen. He did not recall agreeing to that at all. He did his best to not react, though, knowing he had to seem united with the young prince in this. He began thinking, though, that if Alphros survived this he would put him over his knee.
Kaeliz still seemed amused. He glanced at Eomer with a mocking expression. "And if I kill your pup, will you in fact let me go?"
Eomer ground his teeth. How had everything slipped its tether like this? "My word as King."
Kaeliz looked around at all the men hungry for his blood. "A horse and water, as well."
"Agreed," Eomer growled.
"And not one of those Amrothian nags. A good Rohan steed."
Eomer's eyes flashed fire. "You'll get a mule, if I so wish it."
Kaeliz laughed at him and nodded, quite pleased with the bargain -- or just happy to have annoyed Eomer, the King was not sure. The deposed warlord leaned down and picked up the sword. His expression remained indifferent as he swung the blade experimentally.
"A bit unbalanced...nice slice though..." He continued testing the weapon, stretching his sore muscles as well. "I'd prefer my own sword, but I don't imagine there's much chance of that..."
"You could go ask the people in charge of your city for it," Eomer suggested pleasantly.
Kaeliz gave him a sour look.
"Are you quite ready?" Alphros asked impatiently.
Kaeliz leaned lazily on his sword. "Yes indeed. I am prepared for your righteous vengeance."
Alphros approached, blade at the ready. He took the first swing, and it seemed like Kaeliz was ready to accept the swift end, for he did not move at first. However, when he did react, it was with lightning speed. He parried the blow so hard it knocked Alphros off balance.
Then Kaeliz lashed out with his fist, smashing into the prince's face and sending him reeling. Two quick cuts from his sword and he had the prince bleeding from one arm and one leg.
Eomer watched and felt his fear deepen.
It wasn't long before they were at the small pond, immersed in the cool waters. If Elfwine had his way, he would never leave here -- at least not until the blistering heat at last stopped cooking the Mark.
"So, what is your home like?" Eldarion wanted to know.
"Beautiful, but uncompromising," Jijinn replied softly, sweeping his wet hair back. "I suppose to an outsider, it would seem barren. But the red sands of the Fata Kezan are a wonder seen nowhere else in the world. And the colors of our sunsets take a person's breath away."
"Really?" Elfwine was now very interested. "I would dearly like to see that."
"Well, perhaps the next visit can be yours, then," Jijinn told him with what could be a friendly expression.
"I think my father would chain me up in a dungeon if I said I wanted to go to Harad," Elfwine said with a rueful look.
"I didn't know Meduseld had a dungeon," Eldarion remarked.
"It doesn't. But believe me, if I mention Harad, my father will have one made just for me."
"Your father's hatred for us is so great?" Jijinn asked.
"Oh, no," Elfwine assured him. "But his trust of me is...less than great."
"Ah." Jijinn did give them the briefest of smiles. "You are not so dutiful a son, then."
"Well, I was, before the bad seeds started showing up on our doorstep," Elfwine remarked, throwing a reproving look Eldarion's way.
"Admit it, we made your life more interesting," Gondor's heir countered.
"Hrmph," was Elfwine's eloquent reply.
The two gave Jijinn amused glances to show they were only kidding. There were so many differences between them, but Elfwine really felt that given time, they could build a friendship.
Alphros staggered and slipped on his own blood, going down to one knee. His eyes were filled with hate, but his arms and legs were shaking with pain and exhaustion. He spat out blood and tried to rise.
His friend and fellow knight Raelus was shouting and pleading with him to get up, to kill Kaeliz. He was being physically held back by other knights from going to Alphros' side, his face raw with panic.
The prince got to his feet, to the cheers of the crowd. But it was no good and he knew it. Kaeliz was too fast, too strong and too skilled. It was like trying to battle a storm on the high seas...and Alphros knew his ship was taking on water.
Kaeliz knocked aside his next assault as easily as he had every one previous, returning with a contemptuous backhand that laid the prince out.
"Honestly, don't they teach you to use that weapon, boy?" Kaeliz mocked. He was barely sweating.
Alphros climbed wearily to his feet. Kaeliz wasn't just attacking him, he was attacking the morale of the whole army. He was seeking, with this one duel, to show that he was neither defeated nor neutralized.
And the despair on the warriors' faces showed he was winning.
"My father has given me permission to accept your offer of staying with you both for the night," Jijinn told them. Having dried off and changed, he was once more impeccably groomed. He had a small satchel with him.
Elfwine and Eldarion grinned at him and each other. "It's not an territorial summit, Jinn," Eldarion teased him.
Their somewhat stiff-necked friend shrugged slightly. "I am not sure what this is."
"We call it friendship," Elfwine told him.
"And you offer your friendship so easily?" This appeared to perplex him.
"If you call this easily, then yes," Elfwine replied.
"Haven't you had friends before?" Eldarion asked.
Jijinn frowned, searching for the most honest answer. "Duty does not always leave time for such things."
"Well, there's no 'duty' tonight. So, you tell us stories of your home, I'll tell you stories of mine and Eldarion will make up stories about him being a ranger."
"I am a ranger, goat-face."
"Yes, Whisper, as you say."
Eldarion glanced at Jijinn. "And maybe you'll get to watch me beat the stuffing out of horse boy, here."
Elfwine laughed. "But very likely not."
Their friend eyed them both with vague amusement. "It sounds like an interesting evening, then."
"Well, let's get you settled, then. Dar? Care to run to the kitchens for some food?"
"Oh, well, as your majesty so desires," the Gondorian heir said with a sardonic smile.
"Good, good," Elfwine said airily, dismissing him with a regal wave of his hand.
Eldarion threw a glare at him and sauntered out. Elfwine laughed at his friend's departing back and showed Jijinn where he could set his things down. "I suppose our lack of formality is odd for you."
Jijinn knelt and began to meticulously lay out the change of clothes he had brought. "It is, very much so. In Harad, no lord or tribal chief would traipse around in poorly mended clothes -- and without a host of guards at his back. And every commoner kneels as his lord passes...even if that lord is very small."
It took Elfwine a moment to realize the taciturn boy had made a joke -- and another moment to realize the joke was on him. "I am not small."
"When measured against the stature of your people...?"
Elfwine considered shoving his new friend -- it was what he would do with Eldarion or Elboron -- but he didn't think Jijinn was so comfortable with them yet.
"So, your people sound very orderly."
"Discipline. When you live in the harsh world we do, there is no room for disobedience or failure to complete your duties. Everyone must do what is asked of them or everyone suffers."
"Sounds bleak." Elfwine looked around. "When my father is here, things are slightly more...ordered. He has a certain presence, you see...something about him that I can't match that makes people want to make him proud." He smiled faintly, remembering his father's departure and the feeling of, finally, being close to him. "I'm sure you know all about that, though, don't you? Having a father you have to live up to?"
"Not truly," Jijinn said softly. "I never actually met my father."
Elfwine's face fell and his brow knitted in confusion. "But...Abula..."
"Is not my father. His name is Akim and he is simply my...well, your people don't really have a word for it, but I suppose you could think of him as my servant -- though that is not accurate."
"I...is this an odd attempt at humor?" Elfwine asked.
Jijinn turned, a knife in his hand. "No."
Elfwine paled, stepping back. "I...what...?"
"Oh, it's nothing personal. Your hospitality has been very kind. But, I was sent here for this purpose and now my reputation requires I kill you."
The odd Haradrim boy he knew was now subsumed by a cold-eyed predator. Elfwine edged towards the door. "My guard--"
"Is already dead. Akim will have seen to it."
Elfwine called for him anyway, to no avail. He swallowed hard, blood racing through him. He had trained against Erkenbrand, honed his reflexes and readied himself for the day he would face an enemy in combat.
But this was his first test...and he felt woefully unprepared.
"I welcomed you into my home," the young prince said with a glare.
Jijinn was done with talking. He lunged, faster than Elfwine had ever seen anyone move, and slashed out at the prince's chest.
Elfwine only barely escaped. He scrambled desperately out of reach, but the knife followed, cutting ever closer to his skin. The assassin was relentless, pushing him further and further back.
It would not be long before the prince was cornered.
Aldurn finished offering his explanation for the death of Orthale's orc servant, wincing at the nervous quaver he heard in his voice. He hated how deeply the man's claws were in him, but he was helpless to change it.
Orthale listened without so much as a scowl touching his face. He waited until the rider was finished speaking and then shrugged carelessly.
"Be at peace. I am not angry. You did just what you should have, given the circumstances. At the moment, Elboron is more valuable to me than Utuk was."
Aldurn relaxed a little, feeling relief wash over him. "Thank you, sir."
"Utuk was a fool for attacking the boy." His alarmingly intuitive gaze measured Aldurn for a moment. "And since you still have your head, we can assume the boy saw nothing. My plans do not change."
Aldurn did not respond, terrified of giving himself away.
"And their search for the hammer...?"
Aldurn barely avoided flinching. He was drowning in lies. "With Elfwine shepherding the country, they have been too busy. Also, Elboron was the real troublemaker of the group. Without him, they are less motivated."
Orthale's displeasure showed on his pale face. "Well, the army will be returning soon. So, Elfwine will have idle time once more."
"How...do you know?"
Orthale glanced at the scrying pool beside him and then back at Aldurn. "Its power has faded, but it still offers me glimpses into what is going on in the world. The army arrived yesterday and as per my plan, the city has surrendered."
Aldurn frowned, not understanding.
Orthale smiled patronizingly. "Kaeliz is largely useless to me, as rash and incompetent as he is. However, his people are valuable to me as future soldiers. When his messenger arrived with a plea for help, I sent him back with gold enough to buy the loyalty of some skilled men." Orthale's eyes glinted with satisfaction. "They deposed Kaeliz and handed him over to Eomer and offered their surrender. So now I still have what I had before, a warlord at my command and a city full of soldiers for when I need them. And Eomer gets Kaeliz's head, so everyone is satisfied."
The rider felt awe at his master's far-reaching hand. This was why he feared to defy Orthale openly. The man's power was vast.
"I am surprised you did not take advantage of the King's absence."
Orthale dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "That is because you fail to understand the merits of patience," he rebuked Aldurn. "I could take Edoras at any time of my choosing, but to what end? Elessar would sweep in before I'd even closed the gates behind me." He shook his head. "No, I need the hammer to cement my power. Or, failing that, things are almost in place to throw Gondor into chaos so I can face off with Eomer without interference."
Aldurn gaped at him. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing you need concern yourself with," Orthale told him. "Tell me, what is happening in Meduseld?"
Aldurn searched his memory for some innocuous news to report. He was still trying to sift through all things Orthale had said. "Well, an ambassador from Hijaz has arrived with offers of friendship."
Orthale's posture straightened and his face tightened with worry. "Hijaz, you say?"
Aldurn nodded, confused as to why Orthale was in the least bit interested. "You know it?"
"Hijaz is a ruin surrounded by a wasteland. No one lives there...unless the rumors of it being home to a cult of assassins have any truth."
Aldurn went ashen, understanding what Orthale was suggesting. He could scarcely conceal his panic, so instead he just turned and rushed for the door. Orthale did not question, for the princes were important to them both.
Only for different reasons.
Alphros was down again.
Eomer could not bear to watch for much longer. If the proud young man would just surrender, Eomer could offer Kaeliz just about anything to buy the warlord's mercy. With enough gold and horses, the man would surely be happy to be on his way without killing Alphros.
But the son of Elphir would not yield. It had been almost an hour of humiliating torture, and still the prince fought on. Long past frustration and even condescending feelings for the boy's sense of honor...Eomer's heart ached.
Alphros of Dol Amroth was a Knight in every sense of the word, every bit as deserving of glory as his grandfather was.
And he was going to die.
Elfwine had thrown everything he could lift at the assassin, trying to keep him at bay. It was useless to try and engage him -- he was too fast. His knife, the gift from King Elessar, was hanging in its scabbard on the wall...but it might as well have been in the Shire, for all the good it did him.
The door opened and Eldarion came in, his smile dissolving into a look of confusion as he took in the scene. He did not have long to ponder, though. In a flash, Jijinn had pulled and thrown a small knife from his sleeve.
Only Eldarion's superb reflexes saved him. He ducked and rolled out of the way, shouting for help.
The moment of distraction allowed Elfwine to dart out of reach. He quickly made it to Elessar's dagger and turned, feeling a bit more secure with a weapon in his hand.
Jijinn pounced on the confused Eldarion, hoping for an easier kill. He swiped and slashed with his dagger, narrowly missing the nimble boy. Fast as Eldarion was though, he was still in a state of shock and the assassin was not letting up.
A swift leg-sweep knocked Eldarion's legs out from under him, and the boy hit his head on a table on the way down.
Jijinn turned just in time to meet the attack of Elfwine. Their knives clattered against each other again and again, each gauging the other's skill. Elfwine was the first to make a mistake, though, and Jijinn's blade cut his hand open.
Elfwine grimaced and took a brutally hard punch to the face. He crumpled, stunned and trying to get up.
Jijinn glanced at Eldarion, making sure he was equally helpless. It was time to end this.