"Of course you can't come, Andúin," Eldarion said for the tenth time, running a hand through his graying hair. "You disobeyed my orders to stay out of these affairs from the beginning, and then when you were brought back here twice you again disobeyed me, running off with that Elf."
Andúin hung her head. She was beginning to wish she had stayed with Jnían and Faroth. At least they were doing something helpful. Gondor was preparing their army to go to the black fog and try to attack it. Of course, Andúin wanted to accompany them and fight as well, but her father found that to be an abomination even to think about.
"You are all I have in this world, Andúin," Eldarion was stills speaking. "You are all I have left to remind me of your mother. You are Gondor's flower—"
"Maybe I don't want to be Gondor's flower," Andúin said defiantly, meeting his eyes. "Maybe, for once, I want to be Gondor's hero, Gondor's soldier. I am doing no good staying in the castle looking pretty. I want to fight!"
"I can't afford to lose you, Merilwen," Eldarion said wearily. "You know this, and yet you persist. You are just like your mother." He kneeled before her, taking her hands in his. "Andúin, please, you now have a king pleading with you. Stay here, be safe."
Andúin felt tears come to her eyes. "You know I can't agree to that, Father," she said, her voice sounding choked. "I love you, but—I can't listen to you on this matter."
Eldarion looked to the marble floor, heaving a heavy sigh. "I would always blame myself if something happened to you."
"Nothing is going to happen to me!" Andúin pleaded. "I'm stronger with a sword then you realize. I would be an asset for Gondor. Anyway, you're going to need every soldier who can walk to hold off the men from Haradwaith which are sure to accompany the Fog. And don't you remember Harethgûl? I was able to defeat her single-handedly. Besides, she was a woman fighting for her country."
"Andúin, they live in a different culture," Eldarion replied, his voice soft. "I don't wish to go through this exercise again."
Andúin pulled away from his grasp, shaking her head. "No different, Father. I am going to fight." She turned and ran from the throne room, tears streaming down her face. She couldn't leave Gondor to fight on its own. And if the country was going to be destroyed by the Black Fog anyway, she wanted to go down fighting. She left her father still kneeling, alone in the great marble hall.
"I can see the tower of Minas Tirith!" Jnían yelled from where she surveyed the landscape from the top of a tree she had climbed. "We must fly, Faroth, there is still time!" She jumped down from the tree gracefully, and quickly mounted Amáteria. Not even waiting for a response from Faroth, she was off at a gallop.
The wind began to whip around them, blowing leaves and twigs to get caught in their hair and scratch their faces. But they persisted as their fast pace until they stood on the edge of Pelennor. They stopped their gallop atop a mound of dirt where the grass grew tall and green. Faroth looked to his left to see a marker protruding from the soft dirt, the writing worn, but still legible:
Faithful servant yet master's bane,
Lightfoot's foal, swift Snowmane.
Jnían followed his gaze. "We stand on the Howe of a horse of Rohan, if the stories I have heard were true about the Battle of Pelennor so many years ago. If we do not make haste, they shall soon be making one for Alata."
With those parting words they moved respectfully from the grave and looked towards the towering White City. Legions of men could be seen filing through the gates and onto the plains, though the wind still whipped through the air. Upon the horizon facing south could be seen the beginnings of the Black Cloud, the sky dark. Jnían's cunning eyes could see across the leagues that separated them, and she noticed that the Cloud was accompanied by men of Haradwaith, just as Andúin had predicted would come. They came to watch the Cloud destroy Gondor, then loot the city for anything that was left, and then continue to follow the Cloud as it moved across Middle Earth.
"We need to destroy the Cloud now, before it reaches Osgiliath or Minas Tirith," Faroth said, breaking their awed silence at the scene. "If the delegates find us and get the staff, they will surely use it to use the cloud only to destroy the lands with a greater efficiency. They will only banish it once they have had their fill of domination, and the peoples of Middle Earth are dead."
"Then we must hurry," Jnían replied. "But first, we must find Lhach."
"Are you mad, Jnían?" Faroth asked her, his eyes narrowing. "You can seek him out for your revenge after we have saved Gondor!"
"Faroth, surely you jest, for perhaps you have just forgotten," Jnían replied crossly. "He had the base of the staff. The other three pieces we possess are going to do no good on their own. And for future reference, I never seek out revenge for something that has happened to me, only to avenge was has happened to others. I haven't forgotten Awiié, and when I drive my sword into Lhach's heart, she will be the one on my mind. We can only hope that he is with the other delegates."
"My guess is he is, considering we haven't seen him in a fortnight whilst we were searching for the final piece. He probably returned to his men when he realized they were closing in on Gondor," Faroth remarked.
"Good reasoning, Faroth, I just hope you are right," Jnían praised. "We just need to avoid Gondor's armies, for I doubt they shall believe we are helping them. But we must reach the delegates and defeat Lhach before they reach Gondor."
"We can cross through the forest of Ithilien. It is a fair country of climbing woods and swift-falling streams, and it has been my refuge many a time. Ithilien is the only part of Gondor I was ever in before I met you."
Together they skirted the border of the country until they reached Osgiliath, and then crossed behind the garrison and into Ithilien. They made good time with Faroth's knowledge of the wooded area. In a shorter time then they had expected they were within range of the delegates, who traveled the safe distance of about a league before the Black Fog. Sure enough, Lhach was near the front on his horse, conversing with a large man in royal garb.
"Laiquenius," Jnían barely breathed.
"Who?" Faroth asked, a look of puzzlement crossing through his gray eyes.
"Laiquenius," Jnían repeated, turning to face him. "After Andúin and I had first met, we were forced to flee to Osgiliath, where we met Lhach for the first time and learned of the Dáe staff. But I found a letter to Lhach from the only person above him, this Laiquenius. My guess is that is their true leader, and the man leading the delegates now."
Faroth narrowed his eyes. "Then this is entirely his fault, all his responsibility," he assumed. "When we take down Lhach, we must take him down as well." He instinctively fingered an arrow in the quiver across his back.
Jnían laid a steadying hand on his upper arm. "Be patient," she said softly to him. "You are beginning to act as rashly as Andúin. Remain calm, the time will come. But now, we must formulate a plan to retrieve the base and make destroy the Fog."
Faroth nodded, releasing the arrow. Rash actions had no place in this battle, and he would only make things more difficult then they already were. "What do you propose we do, then?" he asked Jnían. "Ride right into the midst of them and attack Lhach, then flee because we are hopelessly outnumbered?" he added sarcastically.
"That is exactly what I plan to do," Jnían replied to his surprise. She whispered to Amáteria and the pair were soon galloping from the sanctuary of Ithilien and towards the delegates.
"And she said I was the rash one," Faroth muttered to himself before following after her.
They charged the delegates head on, and it definitely took them by surprise. The delegates didn't react to the intruders until Faroth and Jnían were already level with Lhach. Upon the closer range, they noticed that Lhach still had his abdomen wrapped from his run-in with the Fell Beast. But Jnían had no mercy for him. She was able to knock him from his horse, bearing the satisfaction of hearing him scream in agony as he hit the hard ground, before she was surrounded by other delegates.
Faroth was having the same problem as he was swarmed. But a large number of the delegates had broken away from the group and surrounded Laiquenius, trying to protect him.
But their enemies were not interested in their leader at all, and they had mercilessly left Lhach unguarded on the ground. Jnían was able to squeeze her way through the men attacking her from every direction long enough to reach Lhach's horse, were she could see the base protruding from a saddlebag. She grabbed it, and then whistled into the howling wind.
Aátrius seemed to appear out of thin air, the winds from the Black Cloud not affecting him in the least. Jnían threw the base into the air, and he clasped it in his talons, letting out one long shriek before flying into Ithilien.
"No!" Lhach screamed as he struggled to his feet, his arms clutching his middle. "Fools! How could you let her get the piece?"
"How treasonous, Lhach!" one of the nearby delegates yelled. "You wish us to protect you and leave Lord Laiquenius unguarded and at the mercy of these usurpers?"
"Yes, how treasonous," Jnían mockingly scolded from nearby, still safely mounted upon Amáteria. She ducked just as an arrow breezed past her. She turned to see a group of the men rushing towards her, swords brandished. "I don't have time for this," she muttered, then closed the gap between herself an Lhach.
"This is for Awiié!" she yelled, then plunged her sword into his chest. Lhach screamed out in anguish. All the men attacking Faroth instantly left him and rushed towards Jnían. She quickly pulled Ranafëa back, then again yelled, "And this is for Hwesta!" she stabbed him again. Lhach fell to his knees, his head rolling back on his shoulders.
Jnían turned to fight off several of the delegates coming at her from behind, destroying them quickly in her frenzied attack. Amáteria reared up on her back legs, and Jnían yelled one final time, "And this—this is for Lothlórien, you who thought you could ever destroy it!" Amáteria came down on the crumpled man, crushing the last bit of life from his broken body.
"Jnían, the Fog!" Faroth yelled, and Jnían could barely hear him over the now roaring wind. She turned to see the Black Fog had gained considerable ground behind them.
"Noro lim, Amáteria, noro lim," Jnían exclaimed to the animal. Amáteria bolted forward with Faroth soon following.
"Shall we follow them, My Lord?" one of the delegates asked of Laiquenius.
"No, they are only two people," Laiquenius replied gravely. "And they have relieved me of something that was proving to be more trouble than he was worth. Besides, they have only injured our frontal squadron. The legions behind us don't even realize there was a fray. Press on toward Gondor!"
"Yes, My Lord, right away, My Lord," the man said quickly.
Faroth and Jnían didn't have time to ponder why they were not followed. They disappeared back into Ithilien, where Aátrius soon returned the base to Jnían. "We have to go back to Minas Tirith," Jnían ordered.
"But look at the horses, Jnían," Faroth said, his voice low. But he spoke a truth. Both of the horses were shaking, breathing hard from the constant running, and both were profusely bleeding from the encounters with the delegates.
Jnían blinked back tears as she painfully replied, "We have to go anyway. They will do as we ask, no matter the sacrifice of themselves. Worst has come to worst, Faroth. We don't have any other choice."
He nodded grimly, and they set off towards Minas Tirith one last time.