CHAPTER 3
HADATHOR
"We almost could not make it to the farewell of the ring bearers," said Merry, leaning against the cozy seat at the breakfast table. His appetite was well satisfied, and the air of the bright, lush gardens of the Lady Arwen should have brought great enjoyment to his heart. But he felt weary, as if he could no longer hold on to a burden too heavy to carry for the simple heart of a Hobbit.
Arwen listened to him intently, the food on the dishes before her untouched; her hands locked together and twisted nervously from time to time.
"But we could not let Frodo go without a last goodbye."
"Nor did we want to let Sam travel all the way to the Shire by himself," added Pippin with a sad smile. "Not after seeing dear Frodo leave."
"They were already aboard the Great Ship when we reached the Grey Havens," continued Merry. "Frodo, Gandalf, the Lady of Lothlorien. and Lord Elrond. The moorings were already loose and the ship was slowly moving towards deep water."
"We dismounted hastily, deeming that we would have to settle with waving them goodbye. But after we shouted to call Frodo's attention, the ropes were thrown to dry land, and we helped bring the ship back to the haven."
"I fastened one of the cords to a rod in the harbor, expecting to see Frodo coming to our farewell, but instead of that, Lord Elrond leaped on the fastened cord, and walked over it towards where we stood."
"Amazing how nimble he is." said Pippin absentmindedly, remembering the elf lord's prowess, while Arwen's heart menaced to burst out of her chest any moment then. Pippin seemed to remain oblivious to the Lady's distress. "Especially for his age."
"Pippin!" Merry cleared his throat and continued. "At first I thought he was going to scold us for being so late, but as he came close I could see his eyes filled with... relief."
Merry paused to look at Arwen's eyes, seeing all the hope and uncertainty reflecting in her restless gaze. But all he could focus on was the sadness those eyes spoke of, the same helpless sadness he had seen in Elrond's eyes when the elf lord had kneeled before him on the moist soil of Mithlond.
The Hobbit stood from his seat, and going around the table, he came to Arwen's side. Holding back the lump forming in his throat he gently placed a hand over the Queen's forearm and spoke as softly and deeply as he could, his words intended only for her ears to listen.
"He asked us to bring you his last farewell, and his request for forgiveness for breaking his promise to hold you in his arms one last time before twilight."
Searing tears began welling up in Arwen's eyes, and it seemed as if she was going to break in painful weep any moment then. Aragorn's voice thundered through the peace of the garden. "Leave us!" he said, and the servants around the table vanished away to the corridors of the royal house.
Aragorn then stood up. "I shall leave as well," he whispered.
"No." The voice of Pippin startled him, as he was about to turn away. "There is message for you as well."
King Elessar slowly slumped on top of his seat. He placed his hand over Arwen's, trying to give her comfort, but all he could do was cringe, as he felt the wintriness of her skin.
Merry took a deep and shaky breath. It had been difficult to witness the weakness and sorrow of someone as grandiose as Lord Elrond; but to see the same falter on that which was fairest of all, one whom he thought could never be touched by grief; it was... it was rending his heart.
"He said you will always be in his mind and heart, that he will love you beyond the distance of Aman, and the circles of Arda. And that wherever you are to go, even after you embrace the gift of men you have chosen, he will be with you." Merry let go a heavy gasp, as if the words he said had been burning his insides. At last, he had fulfilled his promise.
"Why?" Arwen stifled, trying not to suffocate with the questions in her chest.
Merry recoiled, unable to utter any other word, unable to witness for another instant the pain reflecting in her face. It was then that Peregrin came forward. "He said one day you'd understand his choices, as he understood yours; that all he has ever done is for your sake."
Pippin took both of Arwen's slender hands between his own smaller, stubbier ones; his eyes starting to well up with tears, mirroring those in front of him. "He said you are never going to be alone, that he leaves power in this world to protect you from all harm and pain, that you must trust this power, for a part of himself lives in it."
Arwen shook her head slowly. What power could he be speaking of? What did all that mean?
Pippin seemed to have heard her thoughts. "His words were those only; he gave no further explanation. With that, and a blessing to us both, he walked back into the ship."
Arwen lowered her head, supporting her forehead on the palm of her cold hand. The hobbits' message had brought some comfort, but no peace to her heart, only further uncertainty. Moreover, the residue of the distant farewell tasted bitterer than ever.
"You said there is a message for me as well," Aragorn said, and it was Meriadoc who came forward this time. The Hobbit's face was oddly stern, and Aragorn could swear he saw Lord Elrond's furrowed brow and firm eyes coming to life in the face of his little friend.
"To Estel I send these words," spoke Merry, echoing the elf lord to perfection. "Keep your eyes wide open, son of man. May your heart be wise and your arms strong so you can meet what comes your way; and give your trust only to those who deserve it."
Aragorn's face became as grave as Merry's. He knew his foster father's words bore a serious warning, and were not to be taken lightly. Also, it somehow bothered him that Elrond had not commended him to look after Arwen.
After all messages were delivered, a thoughtful silence fell over the four of them for the longest of times. Words were weighted, and carefully engraved into the King and Queen's minds. Whatever they meant, they were both sure to remember every word uttered that morning forever.
"We dearly thank you," Arwen said, putting an end to the silence and to such an aching interval of her life. "To bear such messages all the way to Gondor is a commendable feat from both of you."
Both Hobbits curtseyed. "Think nothing of it. It was the least we could do."
"Who else went to the farewell of the ring bearers?" Aragorn asked, trying to change both the subject and the gloomy mood they had all fallen into.
"Mostly elves," answered Pippin, while he and Merry returned to their seats. "Actually, other than us and Sam, only elves were there. Legolas was there as well."
"Legolas?" inquired Aragorn, anxious to know more about his old friend. Since the war of the ring, only rumors of him had circulated around Minas Tirith, strange rumors.
"Yes, but he wouldn't talk to us. He only nodded a greeting from afar and rushed away from the Havens, closely escorted by the Twin Stars of Rivendell and Lord Celeborn of Lorien."
"Escorted?"
"So it seemed, at least to me," Merry said, lighting up some Toby in his dear pipe. "He also seemed different."
"Different? How different?"
"I don't know. Everything about him didn't seem to be quite the same. His stance, his clothes; even his face."
"He looked sort of worried," Pippin added. "As if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders."
Aragorn had wanted to know of Legolas's actions ever since he had come to live at Ithilien less than a year before. He'd heard comments about him he hadn't been able to confirm, and Ithilien had remained oddly silent and detached from Gondor's affairs and normal life. His opportunity to hear more was not going to be misused, so he carefully chose the words of his next question to get the most out his friends.
"And. why do you think he seemed so troubled?"
Merry and Pippin looked at each other and shrugged. Then, Merry started pounding the wooden board of the table with his fingers, as if trying to remember something. "Although... Sam was telling us about some peculiar happenings about him and the other elves on our way back to the Shire. Right! I remember; he was talking about some ceremony they performed before we arrived to the Grey Havens. Something about all the Elven lords abdicating their authority over to Legolas."
Aragorn and Arwen looked at each other, unsuccessfully trying to conceal their astonishment. The rumors they'd heard were true.
Merry continued tapping the table. "How did he say they were calling him? ... Aramarth! Right, that's the name the Lady of the Golden Wood gave him."
"If they'd asked me," Pippin intervened. "I would have said I like the name Legolas way better. But would they listen to a Hobbit? No..."
Aragorn cleared his throat, trying to stop Pippin from straying away from the theme of his interest. "What else did Sam say?"
"Not much. Only that he overheard that Legolas was heading to Rivendell to continue his instruction with Elrond's sons and the Lord of Lorien."
Aragorn pondered the news for a while. He loved Legolas dearly, but he could not help to feel stunned by the confirmation of the rumors he'd heard.
"My friends," he said, standing up from his seat. "I am sorry for my inquisition; you must be longing for a good rest. Please, make yourselves at home amid these walls. My house is your home."
"Mighty kind of you, dear Strider. But we are only staying for a day or two. The journey back to the Shire is a long one indeed."
"I will come to talk with you later. Right now I need to confer with my beautiful wife." Aragorn then offered his hand to the Lady Arwen and they started walking through the garden.
........................
"How are you feeling?" asked the Lord of Gondor, while he and his wife strolled unhurriedly towards the midst of the gardens.
Arwen did not answer. She took her time to feel in the surroundings of her beloved gardens. It was inevitable. The tall trees, the joyful chirps of the feathered inquilines, the scents of rich soil mixed with the numerous flowers and the fresh foliage, the sound of their light steps over the walkway's flawlessly fitted river rocks, and the crisp sound of the few shriveled, fallen leaves they stepped on. It all reminded her of Imladris, of days when she walked hand-in-hand with the same man by her side, but also had the certainty that her father was near, waiting for her return home from a quiet wander.
It should have been enjoyable to be able to remember those days so vividly, but it was not. It was hurtful; it was like pouring salt over the bleeding wounds.
Aragorn pressed his lips into a thin line, cursing himself for being so naïve and insensible. How could he even ask how she was feeling? He very well knew how she felt. She was torn, confused, and above all in awful pain. He knew all too well how hard it was for her to detach herself from her people, from her family. Even though she never uttered a word of complaint, and tried to conceal her suffering from him, he knew. Moreover, he knew that she had poured all those burdens over herself for him, to be with him.
He stopped his long strides and held her to his chest. "It is not too late," he said with a voice he thought foreign as soon it left his lips. "You could still go after them, if that is your wish." His very words horrified him, but he was compelled to offer her freedom.
Arwen pushed him back, taken aback by his offer. Her late-afternoon sky- like eyes scrutinized the grey glum of his concealing orbs. "No, I cannot," she said simply, but firmly.
"I cannot bear to see you suffer," Aragorn whispered, entranced by the pure whiteness of her face.
Arwen laid a hand over his bearded chin. "And you think I would not suffer without you?" Her words were not those of a question, but an affirmation. "You think I could live an eternity without what you have given me in the time we have been together? No, Aragorn, that choice was already laid before me once and I chose my path. You are my path."
She pulled him into a gentle kiss, and he could not help but to sigh in relief. But still in the happiness of hearing her reassurance, he could not help but to feel unworthy of her sacrifice. He pulled back, his face strained with remorse. She frowned, having neither strength nor disposition to deal with his unnecessary guilt. "Know this, beloved. I do not regret my decision. Never will my pain be big enough to lament my choice. But." she paused, firmly grasping his large hand as if trying to attach him to reality. "You must understand the way I feel."
"I do," muttered the King. "I feel it in the core of my bones; and that's why I wish I had the power to take the pain away from you."
Arwen turned away from him and began walking again. The garden was as cheerful and full of life as before. But for them both, it had become awfully silent and dull. "You will, my love; with time, you will."
Aragorn picked the cue, realizing she had no desire to speak on the matter any more. With only two long strides he was promptly walking by her side again. He would have confided with her about the uneasiness that Elrond's words brought to him, but he rather picked a lighter subject. "Say, what are your thoughts on all those Legolas's reports?"
"Aramarth," she said, absentmindedly. The name sounded uncannily ostentatious when vocalized by her lips, too flamboyant to relate to their earthy archer friend. "I find them... odd."
Odd. That was not the word she truly meant. In her mind the adjective that came much closer to define the situation was: absurd. It was not that Arwen didn't hold Legolas as a noble and brave friend, with a heart as pure and good as one can possibly ask. Contrary, for his allegiance and devotion towards Aragorn, she held an admiration and gratitude towards the Greenwood archer few knew of.
"King of all elves," almost sighed Aragorn. "It is indeed hard to believe. To proclaim a King of the Firstborn when the race is appointed to fade from these lands. Why?"
In truth, Aragorn held many doubts since quite a while before. When he learned Legolas was coming to live at Ithilien with a group of elves, he was more than pleased, deeming that a strong bond was to be placed between the new realm and Gondor. Time passed, and much to his surprise, Ithilien remained silent and remote. Then he learned from travelers that not only the elves from Eryn Lasgalen had joined the dexterous archer, that people from all Elvendoms came to live by his word, and that he was assembling a powerful army and a firm stronghold.
He would have liked to travel down to meet Legolas, but the matters of the restoration of the Kingdom took all his time and energy, and so he decided to send emissaries to greet the new Lord of Ithilien and to clarify the situation. Faramir and Eowyn agreed to go, happy to visit their old friend, promising to bring news to Minas Tirith. But time passed and the visit lasted far longer than what was planned, arising yet more doubts and questions in the heart of the King. Finally, nearly a month after their leave-taking, the Steward of Gondor sent a message to his King, excusing himself and his wife for their absence; and, without much explanation, letting him know that they wished to stay and dwell in Ithilien. Aragorn was pained for their definite leaving, but did not object to their decision since he remembered how pleasant it was to have a home among elves. He sent all of Faramir's household and entourage to Ithilien, and ever since, the two realms remained apart.
"What is more, why Legolas?" said Arwen, already feeling livelier from the captivating conversation, and pushing Aragorn out of his train of thought.
The King scratched his beard, and smiled warmly. "I couldn't think of anyone fitter for the position..." He looked at the quizzical stare Arwen was giving him. "If elves weren't elves, if lore meant nothing, he would be the perfect king."
Arwen's right eyebrow was raised impossibly high, her mouth almost forming into a smirk. "There is so much more to an Elven king than a good heart and courage. The reasons for his ordainment are beyond me."
Aragorn felt somewhat annoyed by Arwen's comment. "Why is your regard for him so low? You are barely acquainted with him."
Arwen picked the edge in the King's voice. "Do not misinterpret me, love. I just believe it is going to be hard for him to earn the esteem of the other stiff and arrogant nobles. I know he was born with both Sindar and Noldor noble blood, but he carries out like a Silvan wood elf."
Aragorn's face twitched an inch at the mention of the adjectives so many had used before to scorn his dear friend, not that Legolas was ever bothered to be called Silvan folk, or wood elf; but his blood was more than noble. It was regal, from the proud line of Oropher.
Arwen's eyes brightened, as she was proud of her husband's disposition to stand up for his dear friend. "Aragorn!" she said, almost scolding him. "I find Legolas's uncomplicated and honest qualities charming and purely irresistible. Even if I met him until a few years ago and during a time of darkness, I deem him as a wild but wonderful creature, capable to bring joy and music where only darkness and silence could be found. I deeply care for him, not only because he would die by your side, but also since he manages to brighten my heart with a mere flicker of one of his spellbinding smiles."
Now it was Aragorn's eyebrow the one raised high, hearing the admiring words and seeing the dreamy expression on his wife's eyes. "Should I start feeling jealous?" he half-taunted, earning a glare from the Queen's lovely face. An amused laugh escaped him. "And when did you come to know him so well? I thought you had barely seen him."
"I spent some time with him, after father's council. I could not believe I hadn't met him before, especially since he was such a good friend of yours. And..." She trailed off, and Aragorn thought he had seen her blush.
"And?"
Arwen could not conceal the amusement this conversation was giving her. "Well, it doesn't take much time nor effort to fall in love with him. Don't you think?"
Aragorn took a deep breath, and gazed at the blue sky above. "Yes, it is quite easy for him to enter one's heart." He remembered the war of the ring, the many times in which the vivacious elf had managed to bring hope to him, even when there was none left. The King's grey eyes became nostalgic, his voice wistful. "I miss him. I miss his inquisitiveness, his voice, the life that seems to emanate from him."
"That's exactly why I find his ordainment inappropriate," Arwen said, returning to the real theme of the conversation.
Aragorn defended his friend yet again. "But you heard what the Periannath said, the lords instructed him. They probably formed him well enough since they all proclaimed him heir to their power."
"Well, I honestly hope that didn't happen," Arwen countered. "Legolas is a spirit of the forest, a wondrous being filled with sincerity and ease, not an overbearing, self-important Elven ruler. To change that would be just wrong."
"Maybe you are right; but the point remains that he is indeed the King of all elves, and as such we must support him."
"Of course! That is." Arwen's words were suddenly disrupted as she felt a third person in the garden, someone quickly coming close to where they stood.
"Good morrow, my lieges!" came the obsequious voice of Gondor's General. Arwen had learned to tolerate the presence of the obnoxious man, but every time she heard his voice, she couldn't help but to feel beleaguered.
"General Hadathor," greeted Aragorn, bothered that the man had interrupted his time with Arwen, but nevertheless polite and open to him.
The general's tall but lean frame came to their sight. He had not the body of a military man, since he was not particularly strong. His manners and always-flawless garb reminded more of a flimsy courtesan than a warrior. But his fame as strategist had transcended in Gondor over the skill of any other man. His position as general had been more by blood than merit, being the cousin of Denethor; but he showed his ability to handle the task, since his clever speech was enough both to still or inflame the valor of his men.
"I hope you can forgive my interference," the man said, his brazen eyes fixed on the annoyed face of the Queen before bowing down slightly.
Arwen could do nothing but clench her jaw and swallow her exasperation. Ever since she had met General Hadathor she had taken an unrelenting distrust towards him, but Aragorn seemed to regard the meandering man, deeming that he was a good adviser and a defendant of the kingdom, and so she was forced to bear with him. Not that the man had ever disrespected her, for his words had always been kind and overly flattering towards her, but there was something in him she didn't quite like. She was disturbed by the arrogance in his fawn, inquisitive eyes; the way he neatly groomed every hair on his head and chin to a perfection she thought unnatural; but most of all, his voice, which was cold and soft like a shadow, capable to drill his opinions and aspirations into the minds of most men.
"What brings you here, General?" spoke Aragorn, oblivious to Arwen's unease around the man.
"Maybe we should move to some place more secluded, my lord. It is a delicate issue." Hadathor's voice slithered like a wisp of winter wind, as always convincing and alluring, while his eyes settled on the Queen.
"Nonsense!" said Aragorn, whose mind was of course too judicious to be so easily driven. "Whatever you have to say, the Queen is entitled to listen. There is no one else in this garden."
Hadathor's face remained impassive. "Of course. Forgive my foolishness. I just did not want to upset the Queen with disquieting news," he said, finally tearing his eyes from Arwen's face, and focusing on the King. "I bring news from the South, alarming news." He paused, as if allowing the words to make a greater impression.
"Well?" Aragorn said, growing impatient with the man's meander.
"The Easterlings, my lord; they have stormed through Harad with a mass of warriors, meeting nearly no resistance from the Southrons. And..."
"And?" Aragorn asked, as calmed as he could.
"Hearsay is that they are about to reach the river Poros."
"The River Poros?! That is the border to South Ithilien!" Aragorn felt his knees faltering. "How many?"
"Thousands, my lord."
Aragorn started pacing back and forth, as he always did whenever he was tense. "How is this possible? I thought their quarrel was with the Southrons. How is it that they met no resistance from them? We should have heard news of such a raid before!"
"I never said there was a raid, my liege," the General said, almost apologetically, but the sleek tone of his voice felt more like pity towards a naïve lad. "When I said they met no resistance, it was because the Southrons did not try to stop them. There was no real confrontation."
The King finally lost his equanimity. "How? Why?" he stuttered. He'd never thought the South conflict to be a direct threat to Gondor.
"Well, there is a detail we found out," the General said, the reluctance to reveal it almost showing in his voice. "Brodda, the emperor of the Easterlings is said to be coming along with the troops, and word is that his intentions are not of war or conquest. He claims he comes to negotiate, and that the troops are only a demonstration of the Easter power. "
Aragorn felt the color coming back to his face. "Negotiate," he said, with a sigh of relief. "Do you know about his terms?"
"That remains to be discussed, my king, between Brodda and yourself. That is why you need to go south and meet him. And my advice is to bring along the most of the army of the White Tree. just for protection."
Aragorn did not like the prospect of marching through Gondor with the whole army behind him, deeming it unsettling and confrontational, but the facts cornered him. "I suppose that if Brodda brings a display of might..."
"Gondor cannot stay behind!" The General stated, almost too fervently, and cutting off Aragorn's thoughts. "We must let him know that we do not fear him, that we are superior in every way." Hadathor's voice had changed, losing the coolness he had before; his speech was now heated.
Aragorn decided to ignore the man's impertinence, focusing on more important matters. "What if a battle breaks? I am open to negotiate, but I fear their intentions."
"That is why you must take the most of the army to meet him. They would not even think of starting a war when they witness the power of Gondor." The General's point was irrefutable, although Aragorn would have preferred a different solution.
"So it is decided," the King said discontentedly. "We march to Ithilien, as soon as possible."
Hadathor bowed slightly, and turned to leave since there was much preparation to do. But Aragorn still had one more question.
"General, before you go. What is Ithilien's position on this? What of the King of elves? What of the Steward of Gondor?"
The General turned to look at the King, with a half smile on his face that seemed out of sarcasm. "They have remained as silent as ever, my lord. I guess that is another issue you can clear while being down south." Again, his voice was cool and soft as a shadow.
Aragorn smiled. Suddenly the trip didn't seem as such a bad idea. "Aye, finally I will go to see the new kingdom of the firstborn, and meet their King."
Arwen, who had remained silent but attentive, finally spoke. "I wish to travel with you," she said without hesitation, her gaze held firmly upon the General of Gondor, as if waiting for the man's imminent opposition to her request, and ready to retort to him. She knew how low was the General's regard for the female kind, and how he deemed them frail and useless.
To her surprise, Hadathor's sarcastic smile broadened to one that seemed out of victory. "I think that is a fantastic idea, my Queen."
Aragorn raised one eyebrow. "You do not think it is risky?"
Hadathor was quick to answer. "Of course not, my lord. Where else could our lovely Queen be safer than surrounded and guarded by the powerful army of the White Tree? Besides, it will be good for the Lady to visit her kinfolk in Ithilien. May she find some solace to the constant pain that is living devoid of the light of her people," he said courteously, his eyes filled with somewhat resembling sympathy towards the dumbfounded Queen.
Arwen could not believe it. Had she misjudged the general? Was the obnoxious man after all as sensible and perceptive as Aragorn credited him to be? Was this why everyone else but her listened to every one of his words as if they were absolute truth? She decided she should wait and see, but her mind was decidedly more open to give Hadathor a second chance.
"It will be also pleasant for Your Majesties to meet the Steward of Gondor and the White Lady of Rohan." Hadathor said with an indecipherable smile. "Perhaps the quandary might even become a joyful event."
As always, the General's words seemed to point towards the wisest option, and as such were beyond contestation. Hadathor did not even bother to stay and wait for the trip's confirmation. He knew he had them both convinced and thinking exactly the way he wanted them to be. He curtseyed, and uttering a soft "Majesties", he disappeared from the garden.
Aragorn took his wife's hand. "Settled it is, we travel to Ithilien."
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AUTHOR NOTE
And yet a new character is introduced: Hadathor. Pay attention to this guy, for he will have a big part in the forthcoming events, and he is also a very interesting individual.
VISUAL AID: The only person in this world I can picture playing Hadathor is John Malkovich. (Remember 'Dangerous Liaisons'?)
Thank you so much for reading my story, and don't forget to review.
Elwe.
HADATHOR
"We almost could not make it to the farewell of the ring bearers," said Merry, leaning against the cozy seat at the breakfast table. His appetite was well satisfied, and the air of the bright, lush gardens of the Lady Arwen should have brought great enjoyment to his heart. But he felt weary, as if he could no longer hold on to a burden too heavy to carry for the simple heart of a Hobbit.
Arwen listened to him intently, the food on the dishes before her untouched; her hands locked together and twisted nervously from time to time.
"But we could not let Frodo go without a last goodbye."
"Nor did we want to let Sam travel all the way to the Shire by himself," added Pippin with a sad smile. "Not after seeing dear Frodo leave."
"They were already aboard the Great Ship when we reached the Grey Havens," continued Merry. "Frodo, Gandalf, the Lady of Lothlorien. and Lord Elrond. The moorings were already loose and the ship was slowly moving towards deep water."
"We dismounted hastily, deeming that we would have to settle with waving them goodbye. But after we shouted to call Frodo's attention, the ropes were thrown to dry land, and we helped bring the ship back to the haven."
"I fastened one of the cords to a rod in the harbor, expecting to see Frodo coming to our farewell, but instead of that, Lord Elrond leaped on the fastened cord, and walked over it towards where we stood."
"Amazing how nimble he is." said Pippin absentmindedly, remembering the elf lord's prowess, while Arwen's heart menaced to burst out of her chest any moment then. Pippin seemed to remain oblivious to the Lady's distress. "Especially for his age."
"Pippin!" Merry cleared his throat and continued. "At first I thought he was going to scold us for being so late, but as he came close I could see his eyes filled with... relief."
Merry paused to look at Arwen's eyes, seeing all the hope and uncertainty reflecting in her restless gaze. But all he could focus on was the sadness those eyes spoke of, the same helpless sadness he had seen in Elrond's eyes when the elf lord had kneeled before him on the moist soil of Mithlond.
The Hobbit stood from his seat, and going around the table, he came to Arwen's side. Holding back the lump forming in his throat he gently placed a hand over the Queen's forearm and spoke as softly and deeply as he could, his words intended only for her ears to listen.
"He asked us to bring you his last farewell, and his request for forgiveness for breaking his promise to hold you in his arms one last time before twilight."
Searing tears began welling up in Arwen's eyes, and it seemed as if she was going to break in painful weep any moment then. Aragorn's voice thundered through the peace of the garden. "Leave us!" he said, and the servants around the table vanished away to the corridors of the royal house.
Aragorn then stood up. "I shall leave as well," he whispered.
"No." The voice of Pippin startled him, as he was about to turn away. "There is message for you as well."
King Elessar slowly slumped on top of his seat. He placed his hand over Arwen's, trying to give her comfort, but all he could do was cringe, as he felt the wintriness of her skin.
Merry took a deep and shaky breath. It had been difficult to witness the weakness and sorrow of someone as grandiose as Lord Elrond; but to see the same falter on that which was fairest of all, one whom he thought could never be touched by grief; it was... it was rending his heart.
"He said you will always be in his mind and heart, that he will love you beyond the distance of Aman, and the circles of Arda. And that wherever you are to go, even after you embrace the gift of men you have chosen, he will be with you." Merry let go a heavy gasp, as if the words he said had been burning his insides. At last, he had fulfilled his promise.
"Why?" Arwen stifled, trying not to suffocate with the questions in her chest.
Merry recoiled, unable to utter any other word, unable to witness for another instant the pain reflecting in her face. It was then that Peregrin came forward. "He said one day you'd understand his choices, as he understood yours; that all he has ever done is for your sake."
Pippin took both of Arwen's slender hands between his own smaller, stubbier ones; his eyes starting to well up with tears, mirroring those in front of him. "He said you are never going to be alone, that he leaves power in this world to protect you from all harm and pain, that you must trust this power, for a part of himself lives in it."
Arwen shook her head slowly. What power could he be speaking of? What did all that mean?
Pippin seemed to have heard her thoughts. "His words were those only; he gave no further explanation. With that, and a blessing to us both, he walked back into the ship."
Arwen lowered her head, supporting her forehead on the palm of her cold hand. The hobbits' message had brought some comfort, but no peace to her heart, only further uncertainty. Moreover, the residue of the distant farewell tasted bitterer than ever.
"You said there is a message for me as well," Aragorn said, and it was Meriadoc who came forward this time. The Hobbit's face was oddly stern, and Aragorn could swear he saw Lord Elrond's furrowed brow and firm eyes coming to life in the face of his little friend.
"To Estel I send these words," spoke Merry, echoing the elf lord to perfection. "Keep your eyes wide open, son of man. May your heart be wise and your arms strong so you can meet what comes your way; and give your trust only to those who deserve it."
Aragorn's face became as grave as Merry's. He knew his foster father's words bore a serious warning, and were not to be taken lightly. Also, it somehow bothered him that Elrond had not commended him to look after Arwen.
After all messages were delivered, a thoughtful silence fell over the four of them for the longest of times. Words were weighted, and carefully engraved into the King and Queen's minds. Whatever they meant, they were both sure to remember every word uttered that morning forever.
"We dearly thank you," Arwen said, putting an end to the silence and to such an aching interval of her life. "To bear such messages all the way to Gondor is a commendable feat from both of you."
Both Hobbits curtseyed. "Think nothing of it. It was the least we could do."
"Who else went to the farewell of the ring bearers?" Aragorn asked, trying to change both the subject and the gloomy mood they had all fallen into.
"Mostly elves," answered Pippin, while he and Merry returned to their seats. "Actually, other than us and Sam, only elves were there. Legolas was there as well."
"Legolas?" inquired Aragorn, anxious to know more about his old friend. Since the war of the ring, only rumors of him had circulated around Minas Tirith, strange rumors.
"Yes, but he wouldn't talk to us. He only nodded a greeting from afar and rushed away from the Havens, closely escorted by the Twin Stars of Rivendell and Lord Celeborn of Lorien."
"Escorted?"
"So it seemed, at least to me," Merry said, lighting up some Toby in his dear pipe. "He also seemed different."
"Different? How different?"
"I don't know. Everything about him didn't seem to be quite the same. His stance, his clothes; even his face."
"He looked sort of worried," Pippin added. "As if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders."
Aragorn had wanted to know of Legolas's actions ever since he had come to live at Ithilien less than a year before. He'd heard comments about him he hadn't been able to confirm, and Ithilien had remained oddly silent and detached from Gondor's affairs and normal life. His opportunity to hear more was not going to be misused, so he carefully chose the words of his next question to get the most out his friends.
"And. why do you think he seemed so troubled?"
Merry and Pippin looked at each other and shrugged. Then, Merry started pounding the wooden board of the table with his fingers, as if trying to remember something. "Although... Sam was telling us about some peculiar happenings about him and the other elves on our way back to the Shire. Right! I remember; he was talking about some ceremony they performed before we arrived to the Grey Havens. Something about all the Elven lords abdicating their authority over to Legolas."
Aragorn and Arwen looked at each other, unsuccessfully trying to conceal their astonishment. The rumors they'd heard were true.
Merry continued tapping the table. "How did he say they were calling him? ... Aramarth! Right, that's the name the Lady of the Golden Wood gave him."
"If they'd asked me," Pippin intervened. "I would have said I like the name Legolas way better. But would they listen to a Hobbit? No..."
Aragorn cleared his throat, trying to stop Pippin from straying away from the theme of his interest. "What else did Sam say?"
"Not much. Only that he overheard that Legolas was heading to Rivendell to continue his instruction with Elrond's sons and the Lord of Lorien."
Aragorn pondered the news for a while. He loved Legolas dearly, but he could not help to feel stunned by the confirmation of the rumors he'd heard.
"My friends," he said, standing up from his seat. "I am sorry for my inquisition; you must be longing for a good rest. Please, make yourselves at home amid these walls. My house is your home."
"Mighty kind of you, dear Strider. But we are only staying for a day or two. The journey back to the Shire is a long one indeed."
"I will come to talk with you later. Right now I need to confer with my beautiful wife." Aragorn then offered his hand to the Lady Arwen and they started walking through the garden.
........................
"How are you feeling?" asked the Lord of Gondor, while he and his wife strolled unhurriedly towards the midst of the gardens.
Arwen did not answer. She took her time to feel in the surroundings of her beloved gardens. It was inevitable. The tall trees, the joyful chirps of the feathered inquilines, the scents of rich soil mixed with the numerous flowers and the fresh foliage, the sound of their light steps over the walkway's flawlessly fitted river rocks, and the crisp sound of the few shriveled, fallen leaves they stepped on. It all reminded her of Imladris, of days when she walked hand-in-hand with the same man by her side, but also had the certainty that her father was near, waiting for her return home from a quiet wander.
It should have been enjoyable to be able to remember those days so vividly, but it was not. It was hurtful; it was like pouring salt over the bleeding wounds.
Aragorn pressed his lips into a thin line, cursing himself for being so naïve and insensible. How could he even ask how she was feeling? He very well knew how she felt. She was torn, confused, and above all in awful pain. He knew all too well how hard it was for her to detach herself from her people, from her family. Even though she never uttered a word of complaint, and tried to conceal her suffering from him, he knew. Moreover, he knew that she had poured all those burdens over herself for him, to be with him.
He stopped his long strides and held her to his chest. "It is not too late," he said with a voice he thought foreign as soon it left his lips. "You could still go after them, if that is your wish." His very words horrified him, but he was compelled to offer her freedom.
Arwen pushed him back, taken aback by his offer. Her late-afternoon sky- like eyes scrutinized the grey glum of his concealing orbs. "No, I cannot," she said simply, but firmly.
"I cannot bear to see you suffer," Aragorn whispered, entranced by the pure whiteness of her face.
Arwen laid a hand over his bearded chin. "And you think I would not suffer without you?" Her words were not those of a question, but an affirmation. "You think I could live an eternity without what you have given me in the time we have been together? No, Aragorn, that choice was already laid before me once and I chose my path. You are my path."
She pulled him into a gentle kiss, and he could not help but to sigh in relief. But still in the happiness of hearing her reassurance, he could not help but to feel unworthy of her sacrifice. He pulled back, his face strained with remorse. She frowned, having neither strength nor disposition to deal with his unnecessary guilt. "Know this, beloved. I do not regret my decision. Never will my pain be big enough to lament my choice. But." she paused, firmly grasping his large hand as if trying to attach him to reality. "You must understand the way I feel."
"I do," muttered the King. "I feel it in the core of my bones; and that's why I wish I had the power to take the pain away from you."
Arwen turned away from him and began walking again. The garden was as cheerful and full of life as before. But for them both, it had become awfully silent and dull. "You will, my love; with time, you will."
Aragorn picked the cue, realizing she had no desire to speak on the matter any more. With only two long strides he was promptly walking by her side again. He would have confided with her about the uneasiness that Elrond's words brought to him, but he rather picked a lighter subject. "Say, what are your thoughts on all those Legolas's reports?"
"Aramarth," she said, absentmindedly. The name sounded uncannily ostentatious when vocalized by her lips, too flamboyant to relate to their earthy archer friend. "I find them... odd."
Odd. That was not the word she truly meant. In her mind the adjective that came much closer to define the situation was: absurd. It was not that Arwen didn't hold Legolas as a noble and brave friend, with a heart as pure and good as one can possibly ask. Contrary, for his allegiance and devotion towards Aragorn, she held an admiration and gratitude towards the Greenwood archer few knew of.
"King of all elves," almost sighed Aragorn. "It is indeed hard to believe. To proclaim a King of the Firstborn when the race is appointed to fade from these lands. Why?"
In truth, Aragorn held many doubts since quite a while before. When he learned Legolas was coming to live at Ithilien with a group of elves, he was more than pleased, deeming that a strong bond was to be placed between the new realm and Gondor. Time passed, and much to his surprise, Ithilien remained silent and remote. Then he learned from travelers that not only the elves from Eryn Lasgalen had joined the dexterous archer, that people from all Elvendoms came to live by his word, and that he was assembling a powerful army and a firm stronghold.
He would have liked to travel down to meet Legolas, but the matters of the restoration of the Kingdom took all his time and energy, and so he decided to send emissaries to greet the new Lord of Ithilien and to clarify the situation. Faramir and Eowyn agreed to go, happy to visit their old friend, promising to bring news to Minas Tirith. But time passed and the visit lasted far longer than what was planned, arising yet more doubts and questions in the heart of the King. Finally, nearly a month after their leave-taking, the Steward of Gondor sent a message to his King, excusing himself and his wife for their absence; and, without much explanation, letting him know that they wished to stay and dwell in Ithilien. Aragorn was pained for their definite leaving, but did not object to their decision since he remembered how pleasant it was to have a home among elves. He sent all of Faramir's household and entourage to Ithilien, and ever since, the two realms remained apart.
"What is more, why Legolas?" said Arwen, already feeling livelier from the captivating conversation, and pushing Aragorn out of his train of thought.
The King scratched his beard, and smiled warmly. "I couldn't think of anyone fitter for the position..." He looked at the quizzical stare Arwen was giving him. "If elves weren't elves, if lore meant nothing, he would be the perfect king."
Arwen's right eyebrow was raised impossibly high, her mouth almost forming into a smirk. "There is so much more to an Elven king than a good heart and courage. The reasons for his ordainment are beyond me."
Aragorn felt somewhat annoyed by Arwen's comment. "Why is your regard for him so low? You are barely acquainted with him."
Arwen picked the edge in the King's voice. "Do not misinterpret me, love. I just believe it is going to be hard for him to earn the esteem of the other stiff and arrogant nobles. I know he was born with both Sindar and Noldor noble blood, but he carries out like a Silvan wood elf."
Aragorn's face twitched an inch at the mention of the adjectives so many had used before to scorn his dear friend, not that Legolas was ever bothered to be called Silvan folk, or wood elf; but his blood was more than noble. It was regal, from the proud line of Oropher.
Arwen's eyes brightened, as she was proud of her husband's disposition to stand up for his dear friend. "Aragorn!" she said, almost scolding him. "I find Legolas's uncomplicated and honest qualities charming and purely irresistible. Even if I met him until a few years ago and during a time of darkness, I deem him as a wild but wonderful creature, capable to bring joy and music where only darkness and silence could be found. I deeply care for him, not only because he would die by your side, but also since he manages to brighten my heart with a mere flicker of one of his spellbinding smiles."
Now it was Aragorn's eyebrow the one raised high, hearing the admiring words and seeing the dreamy expression on his wife's eyes. "Should I start feeling jealous?" he half-taunted, earning a glare from the Queen's lovely face. An amused laugh escaped him. "And when did you come to know him so well? I thought you had barely seen him."
"I spent some time with him, after father's council. I could not believe I hadn't met him before, especially since he was such a good friend of yours. And..." She trailed off, and Aragorn thought he had seen her blush.
"And?"
Arwen could not conceal the amusement this conversation was giving her. "Well, it doesn't take much time nor effort to fall in love with him. Don't you think?"
Aragorn took a deep breath, and gazed at the blue sky above. "Yes, it is quite easy for him to enter one's heart." He remembered the war of the ring, the many times in which the vivacious elf had managed to bring hope to him, even when there was none left. The King's grey eyes became nostalgic, his voice wistful. "I miss him. I miss his inquisitiveness, his voice, the life that seems to emanate from him."
"That's exactly why I find his ordainment inappropriate," Arwen said, returning to the real theme of the conversation.
Aragorn defended his friend yet again. "But you heard what the Periannath said, the lords instructed him. They probably formed him well enough since they all proclaimed him heir to their power."
"Well, I honestly hope that didn't happen," Arwen countered. "Legolas is a spirit of the forest, a wondrous being filled with sincerity and ease, not an overbearing, self-important Elven ruler. To change that would be just wrong."
"Maybe you are right; but the point remains that he is indeed the King of all elves, and as such we must support him."
"Of course! That is." Arwen's words were suddenly disrupted as she felt a third person in the garden, someone quickly coming close to where they stood.
"Good morrow, my lieges!" came the obsequious voice of Gondor's General. Arwen had learned to tolerate the presence of the obnoxious man, but every time she heard his voice, she couldn't help but to feel beleaguered.
"General Hadathor," greeted Aragorn, bothered that the man had interrupted his time with Arwen, but nevertheless polite and open to him.
The general's tall but lean frame came to their sight. He had not the body of a military man, since he was not particularly strong. His manners and always-flawless garb reminded more of a flimsy courtesan than a warrior. But his fame as strategist had transcended in Gondor over the skill of any other man. His position as general had been more by blood than merit, being the cousin of Denethor; but he showed his ability to handle the task, since his clever speech was enough both to still or inflame the valor of his men.
"I hope you can forgive my interference," the man said, his brazen eyes fixed on the annoyed face of the Queen before bowing down slightly.
Arwen could do nothing but clench her jaw and swallow her exasperation. Ever since she had met General Hadathor she had taken an unrelenting distrust towards him, but Aragorn seemed to regard the meandering man, deeming that he was a good adviser and a defendant of the kingdom, and so she was forced to bear with him. Not that the man had ever disrespected her, for his words had always been kind and overly flattering towards her, but there was something in him she didn't quite like. She was disturbed by the arrogance in his fawn, inquisitive eyes; the way he neatly groomed every hair on his head and chin to a perfection she thought unnatural; but most of all, his voice, which was cold and soft like a shadow, capable to drill his opinions and aspirations into the minds of most men.
"What brings you here, General?" spoke Aragorn, oblivious to Arwen's unease around the man.
"Maybe we should move to some place more secluded, my lord. It is a delicate issue." Hadathor's voice slithered like a wisp of winter wind, as always convincing and alluring, while his eyes settled on the Queen.
"Nonsense!" said Aragorn, whose mind was of course too judicious to be so easily driven. "Whatever you have to say, the Queen is entitled to listen. There is no one else in this garden."
Hadathor's face remained impassive. "Of course. Forgive my foolishness. I just did not want to upset the Queen with disquieting news," he said, finally tearing his eyes from Arwen's face, and focusing on the King. "I bring news from the South, alarming news." He paused, as if allowing the words to make a greater impression.
"Well?" Aragorn said, growing impatient with the man's meander.
"The Easterlings, my lord; they have stormed through Harad with a mass of warriors, meeting nearly no resistance from the Southrons. And..."
"And?" Aragorn asked, as calmed as he could.
"Hearsay is that they are about to reach the river Poros."
"The River Poros?! That is the border to South Ithilien!" Aragorn felt his knees faltering. "How many?"
"Thousands, my lord."
Aragorn started pacing back and forth, as he always did whenever he was tense. "How is this possible? I thought their quarrel was with the Southrons. How is it that they met no resistance from them? We should have heard news of such a raid before!"
"I never said there was a raid, my liege," the General said, almost apologetically, but the sleek tone of his voice felt more like pity towards a naïve lad. "When I said they met no resistance, it was because the Southrons did not try to stop them. There was no real confrontation."
The King finally lost his equanimity. "How? Why?" he stuttered. He'd never thought the South conflict to be a direct threat to Gondor.
"Well, there is a detail we found out," the General said, the reluctance to reveal it almost showing in his voice. "Brodda, the emperor of the Easterlings is said to be coming along with the troops, and word is that his intentions are not of war or conquest. He claims he comes to negotiate, and that the troops are only a demonstration of the Easter power. "
Aragorn felt the color coming back to his face. "Negotiate," he said, with a sigh of relief. "Do you know about his terms?"
"That remains to be discussed, my king, between Brodda and yourself. That is why you need to go south and meet him. And my advice is to bring along the most of the army of the White Tree. just for protection."
Aragorn did not like the prospect of marching through Gondor with the whole army behind him, deeming it unsettling and confrontational, but the facts cornered him. "I suppose that if Brodda brings a display of might..."
"Gondor cannot stay behind!" The General stated, almost too fervently, and cutting off Aragorn's thoughts. "We must let him know that we do not fear him, that we are superior in every way." Hadathor's voice had changed, losing the coolness he had before; his speech was now heated.
Aragorn decided to ignore the man's impertinence, focusing on more important matters. "What if a battle breaks? I am open to negotiate, but I fear their intentions."
"That is why you must take the most of the army to meet him. They would not even think of starting a war when they witness the power of Gondor." The General's point was irrefutable, although Aragorn would have preferred a different solution.
"So it is decided," the King said discontentedly. "We march to Ithilien, as soon as possible."
Hadathor bowed slightly, and turned to leave since there was much preparation to do. But Aragorn still had one more question.
"General, before you go. What is Ithilien's position on this? What of the King of elves? What of the Steward of Gondor?"
The General turned to look at the King, with a half smile on his face that seemed out of sarcasm. "They have remained as silent as ever, my lord. I guess that is another issue you can clear while being down south." Again, his voice was cool and soft as a shadow.
Aragorn smiled. Suddenly the trip didn't seem as such a bad idea. "Aye, finally I will go to see the new kingdom of the firstborn, and meet their King."
Arwen, who had remained silent but attentive, finally spoke. "I wish to travel with you," she said without hesitation, her gaze held firmly upon the General of Gondor, as if waiting for the man's imminent opposition to her request, and ready to retort to him. She knew how low was the General's regard for the female kind, and how he deemed them frail and useless.
To her surprise, Hadathor's sarcastic smile broadened to one that seemed out of victory. "I think that is a fantastic idea, my Queen."
Aragorn raised one eyebrow. "You do not think it is risky?"
Hadathor was quick to answer. "Of course not, my lord. Where else could our lovely Queen be safer than surrounded and guarded by the powerful army of the White Tree? Besides, it will be good for the Lady to visit her kinfolk in Ithilien. May she find some solace to the constant pain that is living devoid of the light of her people," he said courteously, his eyes filled with somewhat resembling sympathy towards the dumbfounded Queen.
Arwen could not believe it. Had she misjudged the general? Was the obnoxious man after all as sensible and perceptive as Aragorn credited him to be? Was this why everyone else but her listened to every one of his words as if they were absolute truth? She decided she should wait and see, but her mind was decidedly more open to give Hadathor a second chance.
"It will be also pleasant for Your Majesties to meet the Steward of Gondor and the White Lady of Rohan." Hadathor said with an indecipherable smile. "Perhaps the quandary might even become a joyful event."
As always, the General's words seemed to point towards the wisest option, and as such were beyond contestation. Hadathor did not even bother to stay and wait for the trip's confirmation. He knew he had them both convinced and thinking exactly the way he wanted them to be. He curtseyed, and uttering a soft "Majesties", he disappeared from the garden.
Aragorn took his wife's hand. "Settled it is, we travel to Ithilien."
........................
AUTHOR NOTE
And yet a new character is introduced: Hadathor. Pay attention to this guy, for he will have a big part in the forthcoming events, and he is also a very interesting individual.
VISUAL AID: The only person in this world I can picture playing Hadathor is John Malkovich. (Remember 'Dangerous Liaisons'?)
Thank you so much for reading my story, and don't forget to review.
Elwe.