Thanks to Sulriel, Branwyn and Daw of Stories of Arda, as well as Kathira of for their kind suggestions and comments that serve to prop my flagging self-confidence.
Tarkil awoke to orders being called out and oars creaking and splashing, as the crew tried to steer away from the rocks the swift moving current pushed their ship towards. Calls of advice and laughter floated across the broad river from the flotilla of vessels surrounding them that bore the bulk of the King's men from the fields of Cormallen towards Minas Tirith in preparation for Elessar's coronation and entry to the stone city.
"Feeling better, 'Kil?" Haldon knelt on the deck beside him, as Tarkil struggled to sit up amongst the other Rangers arrayed in a tight group around their wounded brethren.
"I still ache, but I cannot complain." Tarkil took the mug his brother held out and wrinkled his nose as he sniffed it, "Willow bark - again?"
"I know moving you onto the ship last night aggravated your back so stop your whining." Haldon sighed. "We should be at the docks of Osgiliath soon and then we can get you up to the Houses of the Healing where you will be able to sleep in a proper bed."
"That will be a welcome change. I cannot remember the last time I slept in a bed with a mattress and pillow." Tarkil said.
He heard Gethron grumble a similar comment and realized his friend lay on a thin pallet beside where his brother sat. He attempted to peer around his brother, but stopped when the wound on his back reminded him of his limited abilities.
"I can." Haldon grinned. "It was right before we left, and I had some nice warm companionship, too. Her family fled north after orcs attacked their village, she told me. I managed to convince her to let me shelter with her for a while. Quite an obliging lass she was."
"Hal, one of these days you are going to get caught by an irate father, or you will find yourself approached by a maid from days past who has borne your child expecting you to do right by her. You really need to control yourself and settle down." Tarkil shook his head to hear his brother chuckle.
"Nay, I will leave that to you and your girl to do. I shall live vicariously through you. One day I will find a nice Dúnadan woman but I am not ready just yet"
Tarkil handed the mug back, but held it when Haldon tried to take it from him, making his brother look him in the eye, "I have seen you when you think no one is looking, Hal. I think you have already given your heart to someone but feel you cannot speak of her – even to me. One of these days, I am going to find out who she is, this secret love of yours."
Haldon frowned and shook his head, "No, Tarkil. You shall not."
"I wager she is married – that she is the wife of someone important." Meglin grinned as Haldon frowned at his friend, causing Herudil and Anardil to snort. "All right, not married then, but someone he cannot have or cannot admit to having without getting challenged."
"Or maybe she is an elf!" Gethron's gibe elicited hoots of laughter from Meglin, Angrim and Vardamir.
"Oh, please! Do not make me laugh, it hurts too much still." Tarkil grabbed his ribs as he tried to stop laughing. He saw Haldon frown. "Oh, do not worry so, Hal, Elrohir looked at me yesterday and said I am healing properly. But right now I feel like one giant bruise. And at least I can walk now, so you do not have to carry that bedpan back and forth – I know how much you loved that duty!"
Haldon settled back against the hull, stretching his legs out between the two men as he looked up at the clear blue sky. "I did not mind, 'Kil, well, not too much anyway." He sat silently for a while watching the gulls soar effortlessly overhead. "At least it is much brighter than the last time I was on a ship. And I have finally slept. Eru, I was exhausted when we finally reached Pelargir. Six days of hard travel from that accursed mountain. I do not think I had one good night's sleep that whole time. I kept having nightmares and would wake up in a cold sweat surrounded by those wretched grey shadows."
They nodded their heads and grew quiet as two Ithilien Rangers walked through their midst, waiting for them to pass before they resumed their conversation.
"You had nightmares, too?" Meglin shook his head. "I thought it was just me – those ghosts that followed us haunted my dreams. I kept having nightmares where I was being attacked but my sword kept slipping out of my hand. I would wake up in a panic and not want to go back to sleep."
One by one, they each admitted that their own dreams taunted and mocked them, haunting them with thoughts of failure and loss. "What did you think of that awful mountain we had to go through?" Meglin finally ventured to ask. "When I heard mention of the Paths of the Dead, I did not think they really meant 'the dead.' And when I saw that black hole, I wondered if it meant we had to be dead to get through it."
"I knew the tale of the oath-breakers but you are right, the same thoughts crossed my mind when we entered that maw. I do not ever want to think of that place again. It will give me nightmares for the rest of my life," Gethron said quietly while the others agreed; they grew quiet again when several guards of the Tower went through their midst and Tarkil closed his eyes as he remembered his fear through the seemingly endless passage
- -
Paths of the Dead echoed through his mind as Tarkil took the step through the dark door following Aragorn, shoving away the fear that seized his heart. He could feel Nálo tremble as his horse followed him into the black passage where no light shone save for the flickering beacon in Aragorn's hand. "It is all right, boy, the lord Aragorn leads us." He wondered if he whispered the words for the horse's good or his own.
Where do you lead us, my captain? I shall follow you to my death as I have promised, but let us not fall here where no one might find us, let us die in battle. Tarkil was glad for the gloom for he could feel himself break out in a cold sweat as they traversed the caverns, suddenly unsure about his fitness to accompany these brave Rangers around him. Was Haldon right? Should he have stayed behind? Or perhaps Borgil was correct when that ranger questioned Tarkil's fitness given his youth and inexperience compared to the rest. The young Ranger continued to follow his captain, resolute in his duty, yet his knees quaked and it took all his effort to continue to put one foot in front of the other, especially after watching Aragorn pause over the skeleton they found in an earlier chamber. Is that how we shall be found – hundreds of years from now – dusty bones deep in the heart of this black mountain?
And still he walked, though now there was no light to follow, extinguished hours ago by a sudden, cold gust, only the sound of the horse in front of him guiding his steps. Eru protect us that we do not walk off a cliff – how can Aragorn see where he goes without the light? Is his blood still so strong with elven sight that he can see where I cannot?
He tripped over something soft and reached out cautiously to feel what it was he had encountered.
"Sorry, it is just me," Tarkil heard a gruff voice proclaim. "I cannot see where I am going!"
The Dwarf! Were they not accustomed to such darkness, living deep in the roots of such mountains? If a dwarf stumbles in such a place as this – what chance do men have? Tarkil took a deep breath, steadying his nerves and helped the dwarf to his feet as he heard the soft footsteps follow behind, yet he knew no man, elf or dwarf made these footsteps.
The Paths of the Dead this place is called, he thought again. The home of the Oath-breakers, now long dead, yet summoned by the heir of Isildur. Are we now dead also? Poppi, I asked you to wait … Shall I return to you only in spirit, unable to touch you or kiss you again? Yet as he wondered that, he could feel his heart pounding against his chest, and Nálo's breath warm his hand as he held the reins close. Surely no ghost would have a heart beat, nor be able to feel a breath upon them.
He steadied himself and continued trudging along determined to follow Aragorn to the end. Finally, as his heart was about to give up and his knees readied to sink to the ground in fear, he heard the sound of trickling water and realized the blackness gradually lightened to an enveloping grey gloom before they passed through another high arch.
The ranger took a deep breath, and heard others in front of him and behind doing the same. He peered up to see stars glimmering between the sheer cliffs surrounding them as they mounted their horses. Courage returned slowly once he had Nálo beneath him, a reassuring normalcy to the act after such a harrowing trek.
Tarkil looked around to see his brother a few riders back, looking unshaken. He felt ashamed that he could see no signs of fear on any of the other Rangers' faces, wondering if they saw the fear on his, not realizing he wore the same dour mask they all donned.
A call from a passing ship roused Tarkil from his memories and he shivered despite the warm summer day.
Vardamir finally broke the stillness as he pulled out a small flask from his belt pouch and took a swig before passing it to Angrim who lay beside him. "I was so glad to see that King of the Mountain break his spear and throw it down. To watch them all disappear like an early morning fog once we had control of the ships made me feel much safer."
"Is that what happened?" Tarkil asked. "I could not see from my ship. I heard all the trumpets go off – they scared most of the slaves on board. They all thought they were being attacked again and since they were still in chains, they started panicking expecting the ghosts to come back for them. We could not get them loose for a long while; turned out the man with the keys had gone overboard. By the time I got a chance to look, the oath-breakers had disappeared."
"They fought pretty hard even after all they'd been through; they were good men," Herudil reflected.
"All they'd been through? They were the oath-breakers! What do you mean they were good? They could have stopped Sauron an age ago if they had honoured their oaths." Meglin argued.
"Not the spirits, you fool! The captives we freed on the ships." The commander scowled as Meglin shrugged his shoulders, causing the others to smile. "My group – some of them had backs so raw from the whips, it is a wonder they could pull on their oars, yet they volunteered to stay on board and each and every one of them laboured hard transferring the supplies and then sat back at those oars moving those ships against the current till the wind finally picked up. And later on the Pelennor – they fought as hard as any of us, I would wager."
"They had as much to fight for, maybe more," Haldon said quietly. "Most of the ones from my group had been captured in fights around the villages we went through. They were fighting for their homes, their families. What better cause to fight for than that?"
Sailors hurried past so they fell silent again, each lost in their own thoughts of what they had been through, until the ship docked at Osgiliath.
Haldon helped Tarkil down the ramp and led him to the wagon for the injured to take them up into the city.
"No, Hal, I am not going up there. Aragorn's coronation is tomorrow. And I do not want to be flat on my back listening; I want to see it. Our family has fought too long, and we have sacrificed too much for me to miss seeing him finally crowned." Tarkil tried to stand straight in resistance to the healer's effort to help him onto the wagon.
"You have to be the most stubborn …" Haldon closed his eyes in the effort to keep from cursing his brother but knew he would have to bodily pick him up and force him onto the wagon to get him to accompany the healers. "Will you go there after the coronation? Would you at least promise me that? And you must do nothing tonight but lie on your bedroll – will you promise that, too?"
"I just want to see the coronation for myself. For Grandfather, and Father, for Celepharn and Valandur and all our ancestors who died while protecting our land. I will not be a weakling lying on a cot unable to see him sit on his throne, Hal."
Haldon sighed and helped Tarkil over to the where the rest of the Dúnedain stood waiting, "Very well. But I hold you to your promise that you will willingly go to the healers afterwards."
&-&-&
All the bells in Minas Tirith rang over the fields the next morning when Haldon grasped his brother's hand and put a hand behind his back preparing to lift him. "I really wish you had gone up to the Houses of the Healing. You have not been up and about for many days – I think you are being overly optimistic to say you can march and stand for so long."
"Once I am up, I am all right. It is the getting up and down that causes the problems. Now one, two, three – lift, --- Arrrgh!" Tarkil swayed on his feet, holding onto Haldon until he found his balance, panting at the pain the effort caused as he attempted to will the spasm in his back to calm.
Haldon frowned at his brother once more, shaking his head at the glare shot his way. He helped Tarkil put on the rest of his new uniform, muttering about his brother's obstinate nature. He watched Tarkil do up his belt and look around in puzzlement. "What is the matter, 'Kil?"
"I do not have a sword. It is not right that I go without one." Tarkil frowned.
Haldon reached into his pack and retrieved the remnants of Berior. "Here, just put the hilt in its scabbard. We will get another one made for you soon enough, or perhaps someone who wishes to retire would part with his."
Tarkil attached the scabbard to his belt, then hefted the hilt of his sword, sighing at the short, jagged blade. "It served me well. But I do not feel right not wearing a full sword. It does not seem proper somehow."
"It shall do for today and it worked for Aragorn for all those years. Now sheath it, and let's finish getting you dressed; the ceremony will start shortly." Haldon watched his brother with concern. "Are you sure you are ready to march the distance we must? Are you sure you can handle standing for the length of the ceremony? It would not look good for us Rangers if you keeled over halfway through."
"I shall be fine, now hand me that cloak, and I think I am done." Tarkil fastened the clasp, sighing as he saw his brother's rayed star glint, and wished he had his own in place but knew it had been lost on the battlefield at the Morannon. He looked up to see his brother watching at him, a strange expression on his face. "What?"
"You clean up pretty good, 'Kil if I do say so myself." Haldon turned away as if he hid some hint of emotion that he did not wish his brother to see.
"Hey, you two, are you ready to go?" Meglin stuck his head in their tent, grinning as the brothers replied in unison.
Tarkil squinted as they walked out of the tent to see the sun's rays reflecting off the other rangers, the silver on their uniforms glinting in the bright summer sun in dazzling points of light.
They both stared up when the standard of the Stewards flapped in the wind upon the White Tower far above the field where they stood. "We are seeing history unfurl before our eyes, you realize, Hal. I wish Father was alive to see this … how he longed to see Aragorn on the throne."
"I wish Halbarad lived to see his friend crowned," Haldon quietly said. "They were like brothers, those two."
"Are we ready?" Herudil asked as they lined up with the Dúnedain of Gondor. As a single man, they marched behind him to the great tent where Aragorn prepared for his coronation. He stepped out as they arrived and Tarkil swelled with pride to see his Captain, clad in black mail, don a small silver circlet handed to him by Elladan and Elrohir. A star at its centre shone in the bright sun, competing with the glittering green jewel that held his cloak around his shoulders.
Glancing out the corner of his eye, Tarkil saw all the Dúnedain draw themselves up straighter, proud of their Captain, proud that they were there to witness him fulfill his destiny by claiming his crown.
Elessar clasped the arms of his foster brothers, gave a nod to the Rangers, and led them across the wide plain towards the gates of Minas Tirith.
Tarkil marvelled at the silence of the crowd, knowing all eyes watched his captain when King Éomer, Prince Imrahil, Gandalf and the four hobbits joined them in their silent trek. When a lone trumpet rang across the land, they stopped their march as the Steward knelt before their Captain.
Nay, no longer just my captain but Elessar – King of the United Realm, Tarkil reminded himself
The Dúnedain needed no words that morning; all shared the same feelings as they watched the Steward address the people asking if Elessar should be allowed to enter the city. The ground shook beneath their feet as the people shouted out in response. "Yea!"
They held their breath as Faramir held the great crown of Earnur aloft for all to seen, the sun's rays sparkling off it as Aragorn took the crown and held it up calling
Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome Maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!i
Oh, Father, if only you could have been alive to hear Elendil's words that you so longed to hear uttered. How many times did you recite them to me, telling me one day I would see Aragorn claim his heritage and his throne.
When Gandalf placed the crown upon his captain's head, it was all Tarkil could do to keep the tears from flowing down his face. Knowing no eyes were on them but on his king, Tarkil gave a quick glance askance and saw many of the same feelings flit across the other Rangers' faces as they struggled to maintain their stern look.
"Behold the King!"ii
Aragorn strode through the gates of the city, strewn with flowers, heralded by trumpets and music, accompanied silently by the stone-faced Rangers who followed him through the streets of the city to his great hall at the top level, the King's standard now fluttering atop the great White Tower of Ecthelion.
When he finally mounted the steps and sat upon the King's throne, the Dúnedain as a man shouted a great cheer for their captain. Their King.
Notes:
I drew the discussion on the ship while they're returning to Minas Tirith from The Last Debate – ROTK: And then to each of the great ships that remained Aragorn sent one of the Dúnedain, and they comforted the captives that were aboard, and bade them put aside fear and be free.
I do not claim to have written the entirety of the coronation scene for as I am sure you've noticed I intercut some of the Professor's own words from The Steward and the King into my story.
i The Steward and the King, ROTK, JRRTolkien
ii The Steward and the King, ROTK, JRRTolkien