Jnían didn't get much sleep, the excitement of her journey, and the hooded man at the party. She yawned as she pulled her cape over her shoulders and secured it around her neck. She checked on Mallius to make sure everything was in its place. She mounted Amáteria with the hope that she had everything with her. Jnían called Aátrius to her side. She was about to nudge Amáteria's side when she heard something crash.
She stopped. Jnían crept up the stairs until she reached the room with Mallius. She yanked her hood over her head to keep from exposing her face. Jnían snuck up behind the dark hooded figure.
'Very sloppy,' she thought, 'at least if they were going to steal it, they should have enough brains to do it right.' Jnían noticed the small shards of her grandmother's vase. She poked Ranafëa lightly into the stranger's back.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Uhhh…" they stammered. It was a woman.
"What are you doing here?" Jnían shouted. She pushed the sword harder into her back.
"I came to reclaim my birthright," she managed.
"Who are you?" Jnían pressed.
The figure turned around and removed her hood. "Andúin, descendant of Aragorn. I'm taking what's rightfully mine!"
Jnían removed her hood. "Not without a fight…" she said.
They unsheathed their swords and struck them together. About a minute passed when they each had their sword at the other's neck.
"Are you truly a descendant of Aragorn?" Jnían calmly questioned.
"I am," she answered.
"Fine, you shall have Andúril. But only if you accompany me on my journey, to find what murdered my friend."
"Fair enough, anyway, I long to prove my worth to m father, so he knows I can take care of myself."
"Good, then we should retrieve Andúril before we leave," Jnían explained.
"What do you mean? Andúril's right here."
"No, that's Mallius, a decoy, so thieves can't steal the true Andúril while I'm away." Jnían answered.
"Okay, let's go get it," she said. They mounted their horses and set off to find their destiny.
"Follow me," Jnían instructed. "Gîl síla na lû govaded."
A lot had happened in the last hour. Andúin had tried to just quietly sneak in, take the sword, and leave. And she really wouldn't be stealing since the sword was rightfully hers, and you can't steal from yourself. But now she was riding over Rohan being led by an Elf. Things had really changed.
The sun was rising, turning the grass in Rohan to a brilliant gold. This girl Jnían hadn't spoken anything since the journey began. Andúin was lost, and didn't know where she was going.
"Where are we riding to?" Andúin asked her Jnían reined her horse back beside Alata.
"We are going to retrieve Andúril," she said.
"I know that. I mean where?"
"You'll see when we arrive."
Jnían nudged her horse ahead again, but this time Andúin followed. She didn't want to be a follower any longer. Jnían at first seemed surprised, but seemed to quickly accept them.
"We are almost there," Jnían said.
They arrived at a small shack in the middle of the plains. Jnían walked up and the door creaked open. They entered and Andúin noticed an old woman. "This is Meshía," Jnían said to her. She then leaned over and whispered in Meshía's ear. Meshía left the room through a door near the back.
"Why are we here?" Andúin asked Jnían.
"Patience," she said, holding up her hand. "You will see."
Andúin stood waiting for what seemed like a lifetime. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Finally, Meshía came back into the room. She carried in her hand a long scabbard, and handed it hilt first to Andúin.
She gripped her fingers around the legendary hilt. She drew it very slowly. The blade caught the small bit of light that was in the room. She held it out in front of her, the Elvish writing swirling up the blade.
"Andúril," Jnían said. "Flame of the West. The blade that was broken now remade. My job was been to keep it until Elessar's descendant shall call upon it again. It is now yours."
"Thank you," Andúin said to her. She felt, different somehow. As if she had found a missing piece after years of searching. She felt stronger, more confident. Meshía handed her the scabbard, and Andúin unbuckled Silme, handing it to Meshía. "You can have it," she said. Then Andúin buckled Andúril onto her, sheathing it.
"Come," Jnían said. "We must ride. I have held up my end of the deal, now you must remain true to your word." She looked into the distance, her eyes glossy and seemingly looking at something that was not there. But she noon snapped back into the present, and motioned Andúin outside. They climbed back onto the backs of their horses, and then rose back east of Rohan.
"Have you heard anything of the South?" Jnían asked. She couldn't stand the silence. She knew she was the one not speaking, but now she was going to. After all, she is a very talkative person.
"Actually, I have," she replied. "My father was speaking of it. About something that destroys everything it its path. Some sort of black fog. I'm not aware of what exactly it is, bit it seems to be indestructible."
"We'll be coming up on Gondor soon." Jnían stated.
"Gondor? Why are we going there?"
"Because it's south, and because she shall check on your family to make sure they are safe."
"Fine, but we shall enter at night. I don't want my father to know I'm here."
"Very well, Andúin. Until dark we should find a place to stay. We should rest close to the gate.
Hours passed, and Jnían and Andúin talked about a big variety of things. Jnían believe she had made a new friend. She felt like the piece that was missing, was now slowly coming back. Andúin was feeling more comfortable around Jnían. She believed that Jnían was beginning to loosen up. It was twilight.
"We should get started, the guards have fallen asleep," Jnían suggested.
"Alright, follow me. I know how to get in." Andúin said. Jnían nodded, silently admitting her ignorance to the directions of Minas Tirith. They carefully opened the gate, so as not to awake the guards. When they entered, they stumbled upon a lifeless maid.
"Oh no!" Andúin whispered. "Celeb…who did this?"
"Was she close to you?" Jnían asked.
"Yes…well, she was my maidservant. I loved her," she answered grievously. They continued on to Andúin's father's chambers. It was hard to stay quiet walking on the marble. There was someone hovering over his sleeping body holding a dagger over his head, readying himself to plunge into the king. Andúin began to rush toward her father. Jnían stopped her with her arm, signaling for her to stop. In a matter of seconds, Jnían was behind the person with the dagger pressed against his throat.
"Deal with him quietly," Jnían whispered. Jnían kept her other hand on his mouth, smothering any attempt to make noise. She dragged him out to the vestibule and slammed him to the floor. Andúin followed. Jnían returned to the king while Andúin took on the assassin. Andúin drew Andúril, the feeling of holding her true sword rushing through her veins. He swung at her with his pitiful knife, and she easily blocked it. She then repeated the same gesture she used on Harethgûl, and he shattered his kneecap. She was about to strike him with her sword when she heard Jnían.
"Don't kill him!" she whispered. "We can question him."
"Fine!" she quietly shouted. "This man is about to murder my father, and you want me to let him live?"
"Yes. Think about it. If we kill him we'll be right back where we started. Let's prepare him for questioning."
Andúin laid the blade of her sword on his broken knee, making him wince. "Every time you don't answer, the blade goes deeper."
"We are not fazed by the severing of your limb," Jnían said to him. "So pity is not on your side."
"Why were you trying to kill Lord Eldarion?" Andúin asked him.
"I will lose every appendage on my body and die in my own blood before I tell you anything," the man said.
"That is not a wise choice," Jnían said. "But we will do it if we must. But if you answer our questions, we shall allow you leave."
"But," Andúin said, "if we find out you lied, we will pursue you and hunt you down link a beast," she leaned close to his ear as she said that, speaking barely above a whisper. She then returned to her original position. "So, why were you trying to kill him?"
"It was just a task," he said slowly.
"You lie."
"I would never."
"Than what reason did you have for killing Lord Eldarion?"
He fell silent. Andúin pressed the sword harder into his knee. He grimaced, but still said nothing. She continued to push the sword deeper and deeper into his flesh. Blood was now coming out of the wound, but the man said nothing. "Speak!" Andúin said. "Jnían, can you do any better?"
"I promise you, if you don't talk to us you'll never talk to anyone ever again. You will live, but you could be surprised at what you could live through," Jnían threatened. She pulled out the small knife from her boot.
"This is your last chance," Andúin chimed.
"Hold his head, Andúin," Jnían commanded. She did as instructed. Jnían took a good grip on the intruder's tongue. She began to cut into hid tongue. She cut maybe ½ centimeter when he complied.
"Okay! Okay! Get off, I'll tell you!" he squealed. Jnían released him and pushed him toward the wall. At that moment the doors to the hallway burst open and men protruded in.
"Delegates…" Andúin whispered.
"Who?" Jnían questioned.
"Delegates!" she repeated. "From the south. They are assassins." Both girls left the messenger and headed toward the group of delegates. They entered into a fierce battle. Of course they came out alive, exercising their extraordinary skill with a sword. They returned to the messenger. He was being held by the last delegate.
"No!" the man screamed, as the delegate sharply slid his knife over the messenger's throat. The delegate escaped through the side entrance, getting away.
Andúin began to pursue him, but Jnían held up her hand. "He can say nothing. There is nothing to tell." Though Andúin thought otherwise, Jnían had spoken so calmly that she trusted her judgment. "He's just going back home."
They left the castle when they heard the footsteps of now awakened guards. With all attention at the castle, they were able to easily slip out the gate and back onto Pelennor Fields.
"What now?" Andúin asked Jnían. But Jnían was silent, deep in concentration.
"Where else would these people strike?" Jnían finally asked.
"Osgiliath," Andúin answered without hesitation. "It's the stronghold of Gondor, the garrison. It's usually attacked before Minas Tirith because it is hard to protect from invaders by way of the river."
"Where is the garrison?" Jnían inquired.
Andúin pointed. "Those buildings in the distance are the rooftops. It's an easy ride across Pelennor."
Both of them raced their horses across the flat unhindered land to the city boundaries. They city was asleep, no lights shining from windows not people in the street. They entered, their horses' footfalls echoing across the stone.