Note to the disclaimer: I do not own Tolkien or any of his characters. I do not own the words, they belong to the dictionary, I am and will not make a profit from this…. Yeah…

Note to people: I wrote this at 11:30 at night. There was a slight blackout and we just got power back… it may not be the best thing you've ever read but please comment!

He crept with swift movements through the vast and confusing corridors of the library. He could see the flickering glow of the candle, exactly where he had left it before. With a steady hand he raised it in front of his face and started the long ascent to his room. His parents had not yet discovered their son's nightly meetings and slumbered in their bed peacefully.

The carpet was thick and he could feel it even inside the thick soles of his boots. He turned to face the door curtly, drawing from his pocket the key of which he had taken from his parents table. Putting it into the latch he turned it. There was a small click and the door swung open. He entered silently, holding his breath as the door swung back into place.

With agility he sped along the living area and into his room. Narrowly escaping a brush with his father as he stumbled back from the kitchen in the dark. He swung into his room closing the door, and latching its lock behind him. With speed he lit the candles in his room until he could see all. From his closet he drew out a small bag.

It's toggle was a white bead, almost transparent in the flickering light. With care he undid the top and pulled out a tunic and a cloak. Removing the belt from his waist he heaved the other tunic off, replacing it with the new one. It fit snugly around him. He placed the belt on once more and looked himself in the mirror. His brown hair was lengthy like his fathers, but is was the same crisp brown as his mothers. It was streaked with shots of gold from his father. "Good Rohirric hair!" His father, the Lord Eomer had always said.

Making sure that no one was at the door, he opened a small drawer from his bedside cabinet. Removing a small knife from it he quickly stuffed in the bag, along with his cloak too. Shouldering the small thing, he blew out the lights, leaving himself in total darkness. He made his way to the door, it swung open silently, a mercy in the uninviting dark.

He crept once again down the stairs, this time he took a firm left to the courtyard. Moonlight danced across the pillars as two shadowy figures dodged in the shadows awaiting their companion. A firm arm grasped his shoulder and he looked back to see Eldarion, the King's son, staring at him. Not a word was spoken, there was a nod and they were on their way. This ritual was being performed in absolute secrecy and formality, just like the oaths sworn at court.

They gathered in a corner. Elboron, the son of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien. Eldarion, son of Aragorn, the high King of Gondor. Elfwine, the son of Eomer, King of Rohan. In each of their eyes danced excitement and loyalty as they each drew from their bags their cloaks, and Elfwine drew from his the blade. Eldarion had brought some parchment, and Elboron a pen.

In the light of the moon, Elboron scribbled in small letters an oath. An oath to be held above all others. When he was done he stepped back from the paper, holding it aloft for the others to see. With no hesitation they crept from their corner into the center of the yard. Under the cover of the branches of a tree, Elfwine held the blade up. With no fear he slit the 'x' into his thumb. Not deep enough to erect real damage but deep enough for the blood to flow.

Eldarion held out his hand and Elfwine did the same to him, as he did the same to Elboron. They shared a look before Elfwine stuck his thumb out and pressed Eldarion's, and Elboron's bleeding fingers to his. They stood there for a moment. Eyes gazed at the magic that was occurring. Elboron was the first to remove his hand, placing it down on the paper, then Eldarion, then Elfwine.

Three small marks of blood spread upon the paper. The pact of blood is most powerful. It would hold them to their word. Elfwine stood before his friends and looked into their eyes with unwavering voice he said aloud to them this:

Here from this night forth,

I have made my allegiance.

This bond shall not be broken.

Not by an Allegiance to Gondor.

Not by an allegiance to Rohan.

Not by an allegiance to Ithilien.

And here by do I swear that my friends

Have my full loyalty and trust

And I theirs.

I shall not sway in this oath,

In living or dying,

In capture or freedom.

In love and hate.

I swear to them

That I will give my life

To protect them

From any danger.

I treasure my friends

Above all else.

High will be evil

When it thinks it can sway me

From this oath…

There was a nod of understanding as Elfwine finished the oath. Reaching deep inside his bag, he clad himself in his cloak of deep black. Elboron stood forward and sealed it with a silver clasp that Eldarion had fashioned himself. And as the ceremony was completed only the stars would bear witness as true friendship was forged.

Eldarion took the pen that had written the paper, and Elfwine took the pledge itself. Elboron clasped the knife tightly in his hand. Eldarion and Elfwine looked, solemn expressions on their faces as Elboron cast the knife deep into the depths of the pool that was beside the white tree. As each ten year old exchanged glances they walked calmly into the houses of Minas Tirith, cloaks flowing around their feet.

They each left quietly from the hall. Their feet treading softly across the marble floors. Away from the place in which that silent oath had been taken. None would wince at the small knife-blade cut on their fingers, thought they might rub it to stop the dull ache. Elfwine's hair fell across his face. With one hand he brushed it out of the way. With another he held a small parchment…

I know how unlikely this situation is but just let me be with my imagination, thanks.

Please don't flame me, if you have something to say… say it in a nice way. I HAVE SUPER COMEBACK POWER!