CHAPTER 6

STIRRING SHADOWS

"Please!" Arwen said, trying to conceal her anguish. "I do not wish to hear anything else on this matter. It is nothing but hurtful to me."

Aramarth placed a hand upon his chest. "I swear to you, my lady, that your heart will find the consolation you seek for."

"Consolation!" exclaimed the Queen in a sharp gasp, as if aggravated by the very word. "How can I find consolation in this lands? What could you possibly give me that could ease the pain of my father's parting?" Now her voice was becoming harsh, even daring, towards the King of Elves.

Legolas took a step forward, his resolution unhesitant regardless of the Queen's outburst; but she pulled back wearing the face of a cornered creature, just before her soul began pouring out all its aches that manifested in heartfelt words that made even the roughest of the soldiers lower their heads in deep grief and commiseration.    

"What's left to be known or shared between me and my father? He left; gone, like the light of the sun leaves the horizon of an autumn dusk, depriving the parchment of the vivid colors it once had, making it gray and dull. He left; with no word, no farewell; so fleeting and withdrawn that I could not walk with him to his meeting with twilight."

Aragorn had the irresistible urge to hold her, to try and give her some comfort; yet he faltered, deeming impossible for such thing to be accomplished by him. It was then that Aramarth held Arwen carefully yet firmly from her wrists.

"He was bound to depart…" Aramarth said, "As a river is bound to run towards the sea. There was no turning back."  

"Don't you see I know that already?" Arwen said, her voice failing into sobs, struggling to be freed from the Elf's grasp. "Do you think I reproach him for leaving? Do you think that is what torments me? Nay, I have no right, and that is not what I mourn for."

"Then what do you mourn for, my lady?" Aramarth said, his grip on her unrelenting.

Tears trickled freely down her face as she answered, her struggle against his hands beginning to fade. "I never had the chance to say I was sorry. I don't know if he misses me. I don't know if he ever forgave me. All I have left from Adar is his absence, and the certainty that he will never come back. What is worst of all, I can no longer remember his smile or his voice."

At this point, her voice deserted her, and all she could do was look away and hide the pain on her face. An overwhelming quietness covered the crowded woodland; words abandoned even the most eloquent, men or elves. All looked upon the Elven King, their eyes advising him to abandon his foolishness for there was no way to relieve such pain.

However, the elf once called Legolas looked upon the Queen, his face was contrite, but his eyes were shinning with hope. For he knew, that all the answers to the Queen's pains were strong and certain, kept zealously inside of him.

"I understand, Undomiel," he said softly, barely a whisper to men's ears. "But can't you feel the change coming to your life right this moment?"

Slowly, ever so slowly he began pulling her to his chest, gathering her in his arms; and amazingly enough, there was no resistance this time.

"Can't you feel Lord Elrond's soul reaching out to you, from another side of time? He comes to break the walls of your silence, to lift up the shadows from your mind. Behold! It won't be me but him, the one that will place back the missing moments between father and child. He will fill the mysteries of emptiness that yesterday left in your life."

The Queen's sobs ceased, yet her tears were irrepressible; but the tears came not from pain, not anymore. She clung to the armor Aramarth so well wore, the war-attire of Gil-Galad, last High King of the Noldor; the hard metal felt peculiarly warm and homely. She was speechless, wishing only to know more, to receive with wide-open arms whatever her father had sent her way.

She heard words being whispered just above her ear, the voice deep, wise and loving. "To know you are happy is my only desire. Quit mourning as if I'd left you an orphan."

Only then did Arwen remember the voice of her father, for it was the very voice she was hearing. Harder did her arms clutch the breastplate of Aramarth, holding on to a miracle she never though possible.

The whispers continued, only for her ears. "You are not alone, my beloved child. Never will you walk this world without my protection and my love. I leave you my herald, the one that will keep you from all harm and pain, as a compensation for my shy disappearance. Know that I left with no resentment against you, and what I did, I did with great pain, only because it was my duty. My love for you remains unchanged and ever-growing, as it will be for the long days of eternity and beyond, and I will not dare let it languish."

The voice changed; turning back to the clear, smooth tone that surely belonged to Aramarth, as he slowly pushed Arwen back within the reach and distance of his arms for her to look at his face. He appeared exhausted, yet freed from too great a burden, peaceful at last.

"Look upon the one that holds you now when the tribulation becomes too great for you and the mortal world to fight against. Trust him, for he has been carefully primed by many to meet his appointed task." Aramarth let out a long sigh of relief. "Those were Lord Elrond's final words to you."

The Elven King looked at the Queen before him, his eyes proud of the new strength he saw in her. No longer would she mourn or doubt, for at last she had found her peacefulness, and from that moment and onward, she would look to the future, instead of the past.

He gathered her in his arms once more, a gesture of victory over grief, and she complied gladly, feeling safe and homely when surrounded by her newly found protector. It was at that moment, having her so near, that the elf Legolas felt the quiet heartbeat inside of her body, the fragile light growing in her.

He jolted back, as if suddenly realizing something, and startling the Queen in his arms. He stared down on her body with wide-open eyes, a soft smile forming slowly on his lips and widening to a full grin.

"I believe congratulations are in order!" Aramarth half-exclaimed, stepping back from the Queen.

"My lord?" Arwen inquired, perplexed by his odd behavior.

"You do not know yet?" Aramarth said sounding rather affronted. "Mortal life has numbed your Elven senses in more than a little extent."  

"I would appreciate if you are to speak your thoughts clearly, so I may understand," Arwen said. Now it was her the one upset by his ambiguous behavior and words.

"Very well then, I shall be the herald of such joy!" Aramarth said, amused by her short temper, and Arwen could swear she saw the mischief of Legolas's gaze deep within the temperance of the Elven King's eyes. He then kneeled before her, his hand to his heart.

"Blessed be the heir to the throne of Gondor! All hail the coming firstborn of Elessar Telcontar!"

It took a few seconds for the Queen to realize the meaning of his declaration; then her eyes grew wide, and both her hands flew to her slender abdomen. Could such happiness be true?

It took a little longer for Aragorn to understand, but when he did, he felt as if the light of a thousand suns warmed his heart. He rushed to his wife's side, covering her slender hands with his own, trying to feel the life inside of her.

"A child?" he breathed, still unable to believe.

"A son," Aramarth answered, rising from his knees. "The lad grows strong inside our Queen."

Then, a foresight came to the Elven King. "He shall surpass you both in wisdom and majesty; he shall be the completion of all the hopes of the last age. Eldarion you will call him, for he is a descendant of the Eldar, carrier of the last blood of my people…"

The elf's face darkened, and he spoke words only for the King and Queen to understand. "But… beware; for his rise is uncertain." Aramarth's eyes looked from side to side in confusion, and then cringed as in pain when another wave of foreword came to him.

"This generation must strive and sacrifice much for your son's kingdom to come to be. Upon a foundation of spilled blood and much death will his survival be established; lower your guard but a little and his life will be forfeit."

The words came to him as daggers of doom, but he dared not to utter them, so the King and Queen of Gondor never heard them.

"Legolas?" Arwen questioned, sensing his distress. "Do you have more words for our son?"

"No, no, my lady," he lied. "It has all become blurred in my mind. I still haven't totally mastered forethoughts… it is not yet natural to me." He finished with a strained smile. Arwen was not satisfied by his response, but dared not to press him. The joy in her heart was too much as for to mar it with a confrontation.  

Aramarth turned from them, still trying to wave away the terrible shadows that had fallen upon him. He raised his voice for both armies to listen. "Men, Soldiers of Gondor, are you not going to cheer for the announcement of your future King? And sons of Eldar, will you not rejoice in the continuance of our kin in these lands?"

At once the crowd burst into cheers, praises and hails. The wisest ones prayed for the royal couple and their offspring, but the most just shouted in joy.

As the roar of the multitude's celebration arose within the forest, deafening than any other sound, Aramarth's eyes came to rest upon a man on horse among the chanting soldiers. The man did not cheer, nor prayed, nor sung; his face was cold and emotionless as a stone; his gray, fiery eyes were fixed without blink upon the King and Queen of Gondor.

Looming shadows stirred violently within the Elven King at the sight of this man. His pupils grew dark, his breathing quickened, and yet the beating of his heart became unnaturally slow. All sound and movement faded from around Aramarth's senses, all his eyes cared about was this strange man and his mystery. For endless seconds did he stared at him without a blink, not really knowing what to make of him or how to feel.

But then the man turned his head towards the Elf, and finally their eyes met. Clear blue clashed with dark gray, further increasing the confusion in Aramarth's mind, for the proud King felt both threat and reverence in the mere presence of the very young man. The elf began walking towards the young rider, wishing only to know more about him, but then a prominent form came walking from the midst of the army, still chanting his praise to Elessar's new heir, yet his arms were raised, quieting down the soldiers around.

"King Aramarth!" came the smooth, yet persuasive voice of the army's general, hindering the Elf's advance towards the young man. Legolas stopped to meet the one saluting him, his mind still half-focused in the strong presence only steps away, and also half-wondering whom the obnoxious man calling for him was.

"Finally the Elves of Ithilien decide to offer their allegiance to Gondor," the General said sounding rather overconfident and self-justified. "It was about time for you to assert your loyalty to the realm that harbors you and gives you the land where you dwell."

Aragorn came rushing to the little exchange, already cursing Hadathor under his breath for the arrogant and disrespectful way in which he spoke to the King of all Elves. Right when Aragorn was about to reprehend the General, Aramarth turned to him, showing his broad back to the insolent General of Gondor.

"Who is this man?" Aramarth asked, rather annoyed. "He speaks to me as if I owed something to him or his cause."
"Forgive him, Legolas, he knows not what he speaks of. This is Hadathor, high General of the Armies of Gondor," Aragorn said, his eyes shooting daggers at the arrogant man.

"Pardon me, my liege, but in this times of war, one would expect the ones considered as allies to show their support to the great kingdom, specially if they are refugees in lands once under the rule of Gondor-"

"Hadathor!" shouted Aragorn, in the brink of losing his temper, but Aramarth signaled him to be at peace, for he would deal with the matter himself. Turning to face the boastful soldier, he left him no choice but to recoil before his presence.

"General Hadathor," the Elf began, his voice unruffled yet moreover unyielding. "Let us speak plain and to the purpose, like honest men and soldiers. Let us leave fancy speech to noble men and counselors, and allow me to clarify a matter or two.

"First of all, Ithilien is a sovereign realm with no dependence from Gondor. Second of all, my country's allegiance to Gondor is not to be doubted, for my loyalty to your King is well above political affairs. And third of all, you and your country should have not fret and rush here as if in danger, for your southern border is under the protection of my people. There was no need of such display."

"Your… lacking group of riders cannot face the horde of thousands under Brodda's command. War is upon us all!" Hadathor said, coming up dangerously close to Aramarth's face. But his insolent advance was quickly prevented, as a flash of black and silver, until then unnoticed, blocked the General's path.

Hadathor froze in place and looked down on white, bare and sharp fangs being displayed for his eyes, as a low yet menacing growl came from the powerful neck of a full-size woodland wolf that stared at him without a blink; the round, amber eyes fixed at the General's own.

"Get this beast away from me!" squealed the General, all but losing his pomposity.

Aramarth smiled to himself. "That beast rarely fails when it comes to judging strangers"
"We shall see," Aragorn said, striding to the menacing brute, fascinated by the wolf's size and power, for the animal's back came almost to the height of the King's hip. He looked to Legolas, seeking his approval, and then extended his hand to the animal's snout. The wolf cautiously sniffed the offered fist, deviating his attention from the panicked general; then the creature sat before the King of Gondor and bowed its great head as if in recognition, while Hadathor slowly backed away from the whole scene.

"This is Mithgor, the Gray Dread," Legolas said, fingering the shiny, gray pelt of its neck. "One of my most clever and loyal friends; strong as well, for I've seen him haul a slaughtered wild stag; and his legs can outrun the fastest of horses."

Arwen came closer, fascinated by the animal as well, while Aramarth continued the earnest introduction of his friend. "I bred him since the beginning of his life. From the very womb of his mother did my hands brought him into the world, a little more than three winters ago. Ever since, he is always by my side, whether in moments of danger or peace." 

The Elven King's eyes then strayed towards the spot where Arwen stood still in awe of the beast. "Mithgor! Will you not greet your Queen?" he said, nodding towards Arwen.

The wolf stood at once, as if he had been prepared for that moment since it was born. It walked straight towards the Queen, stopped and stood before her, examining her with its glowing amber eyes. Then, for Arwen's astonished amusement, the once menacing big, bad wolf let out a loud yet playful bark, and its huge body dropped down as it laid flat on its back, stretching its limbs teasingly.

Arwen could not stifle a giggle, since the wolf seemed to be smiling at her as it gawked at her from its upside-down position, pressed against the forest soil; a big, toothy smile with its pink tongue dangling from the side.  

"Aren't you the cutest?" Arwen asked, kneeling to rub the wolf's snow-like chest with the back of her fist.

Aramarth looked at Aragorn smugly. "What did I tell you about his judgment of strangers?"

"I have no words, my friend. He seemed to transform from a vicious assassin to the Queen's personal pet!"

"His heart accords with mine, that's all," Legolas said, offering his own wide grin to the Queen.

"By the way," Aragorn intervened, "there is someone I would like you to meet as well." He signaled the mysterious young man on horse to come forward.

Aramarth's smile faded from his face and his entire body tensed as the man dismounted and strode forward to meet them. The Elf's eyes fastened upon the approaching man, carefully analyzing every single movement and feature, readying himself to face whatever it was that came his way.

His eyes told him he was a tall man, his body lithe and well-muscled, and carried himself with all the grace and poise of an Elf. Each motion was stylishly and carefully executed with apparently the greatest of ease. His face had the beauty and symmetry of the Eldar people; beauty marred only by a scar over his lip, and made disturbing by the coldness in his eyes. All this confirmed that there was more to this man than what the apparent youth and ragged clothes told.

Legolas's insides stirred even more viciously as the man neared him. Doubt, fear, vulnerability, admiration, reverence; they all assaulted him at once. He felt his hand instinctively reaching to the sword on his side, his fingers closing hesitantly upon the silver hilt while his ears paid no heed to Aragorn's proud voice as he began introducing the man.

The Elven King clenched his jaw, as his mind struggled with the undeniable instinct to eliminate this seemingly new and strange threat. His whole being screamed to him, that this could not be anything else than an enemy. And yet, from the strayed words coming from Aragorn's mouth, only a few reached Aramarth's ears, but they were more than enough to still his eagerly lethal hand.

"… he snatched her from the cold grip of death; he saved Arwen's life."

Aramarth's eyes found Aragorn's as he said those last words, and the gratitude they showed towards the young stranger snapped the Elven King out of his apprehension trance. He turned to the man, already looking at him in a completely different way.

"With no regard for his own life, he gave life back to my beloved. His name is Neithan, and I owe him everything I could ever posses," Aragorn concluded, sliding an arm over the Queen's shoulder, drawing her near to his side.

Slowly, the Elven King made his way towards the young man, until they stood only inches away from each other.

"Neithan," he said, his eyes scrutinizing the angular features. "The wronged one, it means. That is a name I've only heard once in my life, lost in the shadows of history in an age long gone."

Neithan froze, yet neither his stance nor his face revealed the hesitation that the fiery eyes of the Elven King caused in him. He felt exposed, completely deciphered under the blue fire of Aramarth's piercing gaze. There was a long minute of tension between the two, which was at last broken by the Elf's voice

"I shall not question you or your name, young Neithan," Legolas said, placing a hand over the man's tall shoulder. "For your deeds precede you, and I… can only thank you for your courage."

Legolas brushed away all doubts and gut-feelings he had about the man, for if he had indeed saved the Evenstar's life, he deserved nothing more than trust and thankfulness.

"I thank you, Master Elf. I shall not take your trust lightly, but cherish it for life."

The Elf smiled briefly, pleased both by the wise words and the measured and polite tone of Neithan's voice. Still, in the deepest of his soul stirred a warning, but he paid no heed to it, not anymore. Even in all his preparation and wisdom, he had also fallen under the charm of the mysterious young man.

………………………………………………………………………………………… 

There you go. At last I am back, with a chapter I am not entirely happy with. Boy! I think I've lost my muse. But hey, at least I finished it.

It wasn't easy at all to pick up the story again, after so much time away from it. So if you find any discord or mistake, please review and let me know about it.

Remember, I promised to finish this story and I will do so. Just don't give up on me.

Thanks.

Elwe

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I would like to use this space to give thanks to my editor and the greatest of my supporters, Precious Jewelle. BIG HUG!