Aragorn

"Whom did you say was here?"

"The Steward of Gondor, my king," patiently answered the guard. I thought that surely this man was mistaken.

"Please, show him in then," I said, wondering whom it really was that had requested an audience with me. My dubiousness was banished however when Faramir, dressed in his full ranger garb, strode into my tent and bowed formally before me. I could not hold myself from gasping aloud at his appearance, which was dreadful. He looked little better than he had when he had left here almost three weeks ago. He was not well. His face was gaunt and colorless; his hands were shaky. "Faramir, what has happened?"

"I am no longer required in Minas Tirith, and so I thought to make myself useful by giving my aid to my king if he will yet have me."

The bitterness couched in his words was dumbfounding, but I nodded. "Of course. I shall always welcome your help when it is freely given, Faramir. Please, have a seat," I told him as I indicated an empty camp chair. He sank into it with what sounded like a grateful sigh. "Can I have something brought for you, some tea perhaps?"

He shook his head. "Nay, King Elessar. I am well enough for now. When would you prefer that I start my work, my king?"

I knew that something was terribly wrong, for my steward always seeks the safety of formality when he is deeply troubled by anything, probably a direct result of his father's starkly cold attitude toward him. "Faramir, has a mere month caused you to forget that I prefer that you call me Aragorn when we are in private? Please, be at ease, my friend." His face colored a bit at that, but he said naught else, and I was left to guess what might have happened to bring him here once again. "How fares Éowyn?"

That question revealed much about the source of his unhappiness before he ever answered it. I wondered at his pained expression as he said, "She is. . . . My . . . Aragorn." His gaze faltered, and he looked to the floor of the pavilion as if searching his mind for something that he had misplaced. His voice, when he spoke again, was a mere whisper. "The babe was lost."

I was stricken by this news. Taking a step forward, I laid my hand gently upon his shoulder. "I am so sorry, Faramir. And Éowyn?" I feared that he should tell me the worst news of all about her as well.

"She is weak and distraught," he said, the words quavering with emotion that he obviously did not wish to express before me.

"Faramir, what are you doing here?" I asked gently, pulling another chair closer to him so that I might face him as we conversed. As I sat, I asked him, "Why did you not remain with your wife during such a trying time?"

"I. . . I cannot," he murmured before sinking into silence for a moment. Finally his eyes met mine again, and I almost had to look away, so raw were the emotions there. "She told me to go from her and not to return until she called for me." I was surprised by this, but before I could form another question, he added, "I would not speak of it further, not even with you, Aragorn."

I was concerned by his behavior, but I did not want to make him more uncomfortable by pressing him for information, so I turned my attention to his troubling condition. It was apparent that the strain of the loss of his unborn son and this unwanted separation from Èowyn were causing him to suffer in body as well as in mind. "It is plain that you have been neglecting your health, my friend," I said in a gentle tone, and he winced. Without consulting him first, I summoned a guard into the pavilion and asked him to bring some light refreshments for my steward.

"I find that I do not have much appetite of late," he admitted after the guard departed.

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Not well."

"Then as soon as you have partaken of an adequate amount of food, I shall provide you with the means to wash off the road dust, and then you shall go straight to my bed and remain there until I decide that you have rested for a sufficient length of time. After that I will examine you to make certain that you have done no further damage to yourself since last I saw you."

"Yes, my lord," he said, sounding like a young boy who had been scolded for a minor offense. "I did not come here to add to your burdens, Aragorn."

"Never have you been a burden, and never shall you be. This evening allow me to tend to you. It is the very least that I can do for you, Faramir, after all that you have done for me."

He shrugged a little, as if deciding that perhaps he needed some tending. "Thank you, Aragorn."

When the tray of food arrived, he helped himself to a bit of cold chicken while I brewed him a strong pot of tea, adding a blend of dried herbs that would force him to sleep. After I poured a cup for him, I added a liberal amount of honey to cover the taste of my special concoction while he was yet preoccupied with his own troubles. After setting the cup at his hand, I turned and resumed poring over a map of the area, hoping to figure out what the Haradrim were preparing to do. We had seen very few Southron patrols in the last week, and no other farmsteads had been destroyed to our knowledge. But it troubled me greatly that I could not decipher their actions.

It was not long before the Steward of Gondor was standing near me, staring over my shoulder at the map. "What news?" he asked quietly as he sipped his tea, and I pointed to where the last of the Haradrim patrols had been sighted almost three days ago.

"I know not what they are doing, but I fear that they are massing their forces somewhere for an attack against us."

Faramir nodded. "That is the logical assumption. Do you think that they will come at us straight across the Fords of Poros?"

"It is what they would look for us to think."

He offered his opinion to me. "Were it my force, I should swim my men across the river in the dark, upstream from this site, and attack from the East or even perhaps circle them through the forest behind us and take control of the Harad Road in Ithilien."

"I have anticipated that move and have kept a few extra scouts along the riverbank and also along the road to warn us of impending danger. But they have seen naught in the weeks that they have been camping there."

"And west of here?"

"Downstream? Faramir, you have experienced firsthand the power of the River Poros west of here. I know not how they could possibly cross there without sturdy boats of some sort."

He nodded. "But what of their oliphaunts? Perhaps the crossing would be nothing for those huge beasts."

"Perhaps. And yet, they could only carry the men across perhaps ten or twenty at a time in that manner. Quite time-consuming I should think."

"Time-consuming indeed, but feasible nonetheless."

I called my guard inside once more and bade him to send for Colonel Vëantor immediately. "It is well that you are here, Faramir, though I would have wished for your arrival to be under better circumstances."

Faramir nodded and returned to his meal, and though I feigned continuing to study the map, I watched him, and hoped that he would be all right until Éowyn summoned him home again. Vëantor arrived quickly and greeted Faramir with a smile and clasped his arm in a warriors' handshake before he turned his attention upon me. I quickly explained what we assumed was the Southrons' plan to cross the river, and the colonel assured me that he would go forth with a small force to be certain that it did not occur. I gave him my blessing, and he hurriedly departed.

Faramir had barely eaten a quarter of what was upon the tray when he at last quietly informed me that he could eat no more. "Very well, then." I moved the tray out of the way and replaced it with a wash basin filled with clean water and a soft cloth. "I shall leave you now so that you might enjoy some privacy while you bathe and then sleep. But I shall return soon to assure that you are obeying your king."

He smiled wanly and nodded his acquiescence. As I reached the doorway, he spoke my name, and I turned back to him.

"Thank you. I cannot tell you how much your friendship has meant to me during these past months."

I nodded in reply and stepped out of the tent, remaining near the entrance as I listened to the soft splashing of water. He was soon finished washing I deemed as it grew very quiet, and quietly I reentered the pavilion and found him lying atop the furs upon my mattress, stripped down to shirt and breeches, his boots discarded beneath the camp bed. He was already deeply asleep, and I hoped that he would not suspect that I had drugged him when he awoke. It was disconcerting how quickly his life had fallen apart, leaving him desolate, and it eased my heart somewhat to see him at peace even for a short time.

I drew nearer and leaned down to examine him, most especially his arm. But it seemed fine, and it had healed straight and was not atrophied in the least. I rested my hand for just a moment upon his brow, as if I could impart some of my strength to him that way before I turned and went back to my maps, watching over my steward at the same time as I contemplated the unknown actions of the Southrons.


Éomer

Pelargir was truly the foulest city that I had ever had the misfortune of riding into. Not only were the citizens unfriendly as they hurried about their business, but the streets were covered with filth as we entered through the northernmost gate, and it was difficult to keep my face impassive when the foul stench of human excrement assaulted my nostrils.

"We should have bypassed this place, Éomer-King," said Fram, captain of my guard and my personal bodyguard as he rode beside me through the narrow streets.

I nodded. "I was mistaken to think that Lord Faramir might have come here. I am almost certain that he has ridden directly to the River Poros despite his poor physical condition." I knew if Faramir had continued on to Poros, he would very shortly be under Aragorn's care. I felt that there was no reason to trail after the errant steward any longer, though I did plan on making certain that he knew my mind with regards to his decision to abandon Éowyn, his fistfighting capabilities be damned.

"Shall we turn about and return to the road, my lord?"

"Nay, Fram. We shall ride through so that we might better appreciate Minas Tirith when we return there. Besides, I am thirsty. Perhaps we can find a respectable tavern somewhere in this vile place."

Fram did not look convinced as he rode ahead, my men encircling me as we moved through the streets, past row after row of small ramshackle wooden buildings that looked as if they had been hastily built and should likely fall down even more rapidly, given the right conditions. Most of the people that we passed stared at us with unrestrained hostility upon their faces as they caught sight of our shining armor, tantalizing in the midst of this hopeless poverty. I noted that my guards rode with their gloved hands resting upon their weapons, glancing about nervously at the crush of human detritus that was getting thicker as we entered a section of the city filled with nothing more than badly-maintained brothels.

I called a halt and asked one of the more respectable looking women that we came upon if she could point us toward a suitable place to have a drink. But she would not direct me unless I paid her, an action that I would not have any see, lest people think ill of the King of the Mark. So my riders and I continued in the direction we had been riding until we reached a canal where the road widened out a great deal, though the endless throng of people did not thin at all.

Fram halted us this time and pointed toward the opposite side of the canal where there was a walled section of the city with a tall black tower jutting from the center of it. It appeared to be where the more wealthy merchants and officials of Pelargir lived and worked. "I think were we to gain access to that side of the wall, we might find somewhere acceptable to have a drink, Éomer-King."

I nodded in agreement. "Lead the way, Fram."

And so my small band finally found a stone bridge that crossed the canal, and we passed onto it. I realized that finally we had left the questionable citizenry behind us as we approached a checkpoint. The guards there halted us, and I came to the fore of our group as one of them curtly asked us to state our business in Gobel Eärnil. I assumed correctly that he meant the part of the city held within the wall.

Without fanfare, Fram announced my name and title, and the guards seemed not at all impressed by me.

"Your business?"

"I wish to have a drink with my men in a tavern where I do not have to wonder if I should be robbed at knife point."

They laughed at me. "You are in the wrong city then, my lord. Is Lord Holmar expecting you?"

"Nay. I was not expecting to be here." I knew Lord Holmar to be the Lord Steward of Pelargir, and I might have seen him in Minas Tirith at some of the larger annual council meetings, but I would not know him on sight. The guard to whom I was speaking sent one of the others to announce the arrival of the King of Rohan and to have arrangements made for my stay in the steward's palace in the quarter of the city called Neldëlendin. "I am not staying here," I said. "I wish only to have a tankard of ale with my men and then continue on my way."

"Sir," said the guard, "you, as the King of Rohan, cannot simply come into Pelargir for a drink. If the Lord Steward were to find out that you had been here, and I did not inform him of your visit, he would have my head on a pike atop the Barad Aerhir." He gestured toward the tall tower in the center of the city.

I sighed but nodded, unwilling to strain relations between Rohan and Pelargir even for my own comfort, though I was not happy with the arrangement. An escort of two mounted guards was quickly arranged for us, and we followed them at a walk around the inside edge of the high stone wall past all manner of buildings, all built of marble and granite, most of which seemed to be for some official use. Eventually we came to a section filled with well-kept barracks, and our escorts informed us that my riders and I should have to part ways here, for apparently no other guards were allowed into Neldëlendin but the steward's own.

I was outraged, as was Fram, but the Pelargirian guards insisted that I should come to no harm despite being separated from my men, and for the sake of relations between our countries, I allowed it, marking well the specific building where my men were to be housed, so I could easily find them later if they were needed.

As I continued down the cobbled streets alone with my two escorts, we passed many varied businesses including several taverns that appeared to be perfectly acceptable to me, and I said so, but apparently my thirst was to be ignored until I had first met with the steward. Soon we crossed over a high bridge that passed above the water, and I was able to take a long look at the harbor that lay in the middle of the walled sections of the city, a circle of water inside a large triangle of land. The harbor was filled with many ships, most of which appeared to belong to the Gondorian Navy, though there were also some that bore the marks of Lebennin and a few of Dol Amroth. Interspersed were smaller trade vessels, and I was surprised to see that more than a few of them bore the marks of Umbar and even Harad.

After we passed over the water, we entered what I assumed was Neldëlendin which was lush and green, filled with open lawns and orchards of blooming trees, behind which stood many large residences of the nobility. As the road slowly curved, I finally caught sight of the stately palace called Abad-en-Arahir that was home to Lord Holmar, Steward of Pelargir and provincial Steward of Lebennin, and I winced to think how long it might take just to find the man in that enormous marble monstrosity.

But the guards were efficient, and as we dismounted before the palace, I was ushered inside, and I considered the enormity of this residence, wondering why this man was living like a king, for surely this place was larger and grander even than the Citadel in Minas Tirith. I was led through the cavernous entryway and into a spacious antechamber where I was asked to sit in a comfortable upholstered chair while I waited for an audience with Lord Holmar. At least I was dressed for it, I thought, removing my helm as I sat.

So much trouble for one drink.

I waited perhaps ten minutes before another door was opened by a page, and he ushered me into the steward's throne room. As the boy closed the door behind me and then went to stand along the wall, I called out in a friendly manner to the steward, slowly walking toward him. He sat at least fifty feet away from me and made no move to rise. Guards lined either side of the room, and though the surroundings were impressive, I was little impressed with this pompous show.

"Lord Holmar! Now that I have finally found you in this maze that you call a city, I wonder if you might like to join me and my men for an ale at one of your city's fine taverns!" I could plainly see the distaste cross his face even from this distance.

"Éomer-King of Rohan, what brings you to Pelargir, hmm?" he asked, his tone far from friendly.

As I finally reached him, I said, "Well, as I did not intend to see this much of your city, I must say that you, in truth, bring me to Pelargir. I was merely thirsty and wishing for some ale. I still am."

Lord Holmar snapped his fingers, and two dark-skinned serving girls appeared from somewhere behind him, bowing before the throne. "Bring Lord Éomer some ale and a chair!"

The chair was born forth immediately and placed behind me, and I sat in it. Before I was comfortable, there was a large mug of frothy ale being held out to me by one of the girls, and I took it, murmuring my thanks to her before turning my attention back to the steward, as I took a long swallow of the brew, finding the taste and consistency to be excellent. I told Holmar so.

"I thought that it might be to your liking as it is imported from your own country, Lord Éomer."

"Ah, a familiar taste from home. Thank you." I took another swallow. "Surely you would like some as well, Lord Holmar? Ale is always better when shared amongst friends."

"Indeed, but I am not thirsty at the moment, and besides, I do not feel that it is appropriate for me to drink when I am sitting upon the throne of Pelargir, my lord."

It was not lost upon me that the man had purposely left me sitting below him as he remained upon his chair high on the dais. I shrugged and drained the tankard, and it was immediately taken from my hand. "What Pelargir lacks in charm, it more than makes up for in its choice of ale!" I exclaimed with a broad smile.

He grimaced. "Again I ask you, what brings you to Pelargir, hmm?"

As it seemed that Holmar was more interested in information than exchanging pleasantries, I dropped my smile and spoke. "In truth I was following the Steward of Gondor as he made his way south from Minas Tirith."

"Are he and King Elessar still involved in that business at the River Poros? I was under the impression that the Steward of Gondor had gone missing."

"He had, but luckily he was found. Though his condition was grave, you should be happy to know that he is much recovered now."

"I had hoped that when he was found, I might have back my city guards that the King of Gondor unilaterally decided to take with him."

Lord Holmar was beginning to irritate me with his self-centeredness"But the situation there involved more than just Lord Faramir's disappearance. The Haradrim attacked a small band of Gondorian rangers there, killing many of them, and even after the king arrived with his army, there were many sightings of Southrons. In addition, several settlers in South Gondor have been massacred by the dogs."

He raised an eyebrow in seeming interest. "Indeed?"

"I would think that someone as powerful as you obviously are should already know this."

"No. I am much too busy with the operation of Pelargir and Lebennin to worry about what happens in South Gondor. The poor farmland there is not worth all of this trouble that Elessar takes."

"I do not think that it is the land that concerns the king so much as the people who live there, but I shall not speak further on it, as your city and province give you enough trouble by themselves."

"If I did not know of the Rohirrim penchant for plain-speaking, I would think that you were insulting me in my own hall," he said.

"Never would I do that, Lord Holmar," I smiled again, wishing to punch the man in his mouth. "Forgive me if it seems so. I am just surprised to find myself here in your palace, separated from my riders, when in truth I simply wished to stop for a drink with my men before I continued my journey to the River Poros."

"Lord Éomer, what would the citizenry say if they were to learn that the King of Rohan passed through Pelargir and their steward did not offer any hospitality to him? It is not done. Surely whatever King Elessar and his young steward are doing at the River Poros can be done without you for one more day, hmm?"

After a moment I realized that Faramir and I would both be better off not having to face each other on this night. Two days of riding had not dulled my feelings toward my brother-in-law's foolishness in the least. I acquiesced. "It matters not to me what the wagging tongues of your people say, but if it bothers you so much, then by all means, I would spend one night in your keeping. You do have a reputation to maintain after all."

"Indeed."

As I noted the predatory look upon the Steward of Pelargir's face, I wondered briefly if I might never again find my way to the outside of this strange city.