CHAPTER 12

MOTIVES

The Elven king stopped the charger's gallop right before crossing the Poros', by then, calm muddle, and turned north to see his riders returning from hounding after the few remaining Easterlings. Neithan came forward to meet him, carefully dodging the corpses lying on the field, even though his garments were drenched in Easterling blood. In his left arm, the borrowed sword gleamed clean as he had put great care into it soon after the battle was won, and now he could proudly give it back to the one who had entrusted such great weapon to his arm.

The young man sought Aramarth's eyes for approval before bowing slightly to the victorious king, but all he could glimpse was great weariness in the elf's hazy eyes as they didn't meet Neithan's searching ones, but focused in surveying the vast ruin he'd caused in less than an hour.

He watched the elf dismount from the huffing beast, noticing how slow and wary his movements seemed, and the young one's prying eyes could even catch a slight cringe in Aramarth's face as his feet met the ground with a quiet thud. Neithan's instinct drove him to step forward and try to offer support to the seemingly exhausted king. But before he could, Aramarth's eyes were fixed on his, a veiled warning not to come too close written in the grayish blue orbs.

"Young man," spoke the king as salutation, his voice firm and clear, his stance tall and proud, and his eyes, now clear, studying the warrior before him.

"I see that you put Elladan's sword to good use."

Neithan hesitated to answer, still confused by the brief moment of weakness he thought he'd seen in the Elven king; but the very image of Aramarth's commanding presence, and the deeds he'd witnessed that day allowed him to cast aside any conjecture as a simple misunderstanding from his part. He extended the Elven sword to its rightful owner; head once again bowed low in deep respect.

"I did as best as I could; but it is a great blade that undoubtedly helped me perform beyond my abilities. I thank you for entrusting it to this humble boy."

"Humble boy," Aramarth whispered, striding past Neithan without taking the sword from his hands. "I somehow find such words hard to apply to you right now, and I'm sure many men that fought alongside you today think the same way."

The king continued walking, dragging Maur-agar's restlessness along from the sodden bridle to retrieve Aiglos from a heap of corpses not far from the riverbed. Neithan followed him, the sword held awkwardly high between both his hands as he was still meaning to give it back.

"You look ridiculous carrying that blade around like that," Aramarth said as the young man caught up and walked side by side with him. "I thought I gave you a good scabbard to strap it around your waist like a warrior should. Why don't you use it?"

A small smile appeared in Neithan's face, as he finally understood the elf's intentions.

"You've earned the right to keep it," added Aramarth, just as Rúmil the Galadhrim reached the site and took hold of the king's full attention.

"It is done, my lord."

Aramarth nodded pensively.

"Losses?"

"Two, my lord."

"Say not the names of them, I do not wish to know yet… Wounded?"

"Some grave ones; most of us were considerably injured in the confusion and the hunt inside the shrub."

"Do you know if the healing quarters are set up?"

"They are, my lord."

"Will you be alright, Rúmil?" The king's voice seemed to falter at this point.

"Please, do not worry over me, Great Sir; 'tis a small price for such a great victory. And you…" added the Elven soldier, looking at Aramarth with admiration nothing short of adoration. "You are always the favored of the Valar, not even a scratch upon you after such a brutal clash."

Neithan noticed how Aramarth's eyes clouded again as he turned away from his loyal vassal, seemingly distracted by the force of death all around them, force he had single-handedly brought upon thousands that day.

The king hastily handed Maur-agar's reins to the Elven official, careful not to meet his eyes.

"See that everyone is cared for, including yourself, and have the healers help the Gondorians as much as they can. Warn everyone not to come to me for a few hours for I retire now to pray. And take this animal from my sight; I don't ever wish to ride it again."

With no other word, the king made his way up the first hills of Ithilien, leaving Neithan wondering about his erratic behavior, and Rúmil eyeing the black steed under his charge warily.

"Come, herald of death!" the Galadhrim said, pulling at the reins carefully. "I'm too weary for you to give me a hard time."

"I can take care of it if you wish. I lost the steed given to me in the battle anyway, and have none to care for now. And you ought to see to those wounds."

Rúmil was more than skeptic. "You think you are up to this beast?"

"I think there is no better moment than now to get close to it."

"And why would you say that?"

Neithan stepped forward, taking the rein from the elf in a smooth, fluid motion. "Because he's spent and fulfilled from the battle; the thirsty demon inside of him is for a while sated."

The young man pulled at the horse's rein gently, leading it up the hill and away from the muddy terrain; and in Rúmil's astonishment, Maur-agar followed him with no great resistance.

"That is no common boy, that much is for sure," muttered the elf, reaching for his own docile horse to head for the healing quarters.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

His strength nearly deserted him more than once as he made his way up towards the forest patch on top of the hill, straining to walk with as much poise as he could. His body was rebelling against the controlled composure of his mind, and every step became more torturous, even against the gentle slope he was ascending. The smell of blood behind him, around him… all over him, became nauseating; revolting to his mind, body and soul; forcing him to breathe as little as he could, small, shallow breaths; and to focus only on reaching the tree line over the hilltop.

He leaned his body on the noble Aiglos, now used as a common walking stick, fighting the numb pain on his arm from carrying such a heavy burden, but still proudly refusing to drag the great spear, at least not where his elves could see him.

No, he could not be seen in his weakness; anything but that. Such concern overwhelmed all pain and weariness, and he picked up his pace, wanting only to disappear from the sight of the whole world.

But there was one that would not let him disappear, one that already rode up the hill after him. The pounding sound of the horse's hooves behind him hammered at Aramarth's head with pain so piercing, that he almost dropped Gil-Galad's spear and had to stop his march to try and recover his balance.

He shook his head slightly, renewing his agonic ascend and trying to disregard the rider after him. But the rider was not to be ignored, and soon Aragorn, King of the realm of Gondor, stopped his winded horse before the King of Elves to effectively disrupt his advance.

"Get out of my way, Elessar," Aramarth muttered, eyes staring down towards the ground.

"No, you will hear me now." Aragorn's barely contained anger was evident in his voice.

"I have not the time for this; I must go to my prayers."

"Prayers? Now you want to seek the forgiveness of the Valar?"

Aramarth remained silent, eyes cast down.

"Very well, Elf King, but you must brace yourself like a man and answer to me first. And look at me when I talk to you!"

Aramarth raised his head slowly, and the kindled blaze in his eyes was enough to startle Aragorn's horse back and away from him.

"I am no man, Elessar. I warn you not to discredit my justice."

Aragorn came down from his mount, and neared Aramarth until only the space of a heartbeat separated their faces. "You call that massacre justice? Turn around and see the ruin you have devised."

The Elven king held his ground, facing Aragorn's frontal dare unflinchingly. "I only risk my heart and my life for what's worth the risk. What was done today had to be done; there was no other way."

Aragorn turned away, as if disgusted. "You reek of blood, not only of the ones you murdered today but of many innocent ones in the lands of Khand that will fall victims of your spite. Don't you know the fate that awaits those living under Brodda's command? The clans will scatter, a war for power where kinsmen will rise against each other. Without Brodda's unifying command they are doomed to disappear into barbarism."

"And so their threat to our lands is over. Isn't it, Aragorn?"

"But at what price! Such logic does not belong to the heart of a good king. Why, Legolas? Why have you done this? Disregarding of my counsel and everything I believe in. Why?" Tears sprung to Aragorn's eyes, overwhelmed by the bereavement he had witnessed and feeling betrayed by a friend he no longer knew. But Aramarth remained unmovable before the King of Men's tears.

"I do not expect you to understand my motives," he said coldly, walking past the shaken man and towards his yearned forest.

"Then explain them to me, that I may try to understand what you've become!" cried Aragorn, seizing Aramarth by his shoulder and pulling him back.

The Elven king recoiled as if burned from the man's firm grip, and struggling free from it, he continued his single-minded march, without so much as a word to the distraught Aragorn.

"What is it? Tell me what drove you to such slaughter!" Aragorn near shouted, following Aramarth closely from behind, but too irate to notice the slight limp in the elf's gait.

"Was it the death of your dog? Does your revenge for a pet reach to such ends?"

"Stop barking nonsense on my neck, Aragorn; it does not fit you," the elf managed to say through tightly gritted teeth, still refusing to turn back to face the man.

"Then what? Did you do this… for MY wife?"

This time there was no answer from the fleeing elf.

"That is it, isn't it? You thought me unable to champion my own queen, and took matters into your own hands to come out the hero before her!"

The words were finally enough to stop the Elven king's stride and make him turn around.

"Calm down that hot head of yours, King of Men. Do not say words you will later regret."

Sense and control seemed to return to Aragorn upon staring at the cold anger his rash words had sparked in Aramarth's eyes. He stepped back twice, lowering his defying gaze to the ground. "I only seek to understand what you've done today, so after tomorrow I may still call you my friend. Right now I do not know who or what you are or if I can ever trust you again."

Aramarth let out a long, tired sigh, knowing what he was about to speak was only going to make matters worse for his confused friend.

"You must know then, Aragorn, that I did what I did to honor duty and sworn oaths to those who wrought me into what I am today.

"Most likely you will never understand what I am, nor will you approve of the decisions I will take. But what I do or not do is not for you to judge, for those who gave me their rights over the future of this world would not have me asking permission to wield my sword, nor wasting precious time explaining my actions, for I'm responsible only to those who taught me, and the gods."

The slow, powerful cadence of the Elven king's voice, and the inevitable, yet terrible legitimacy in his words had rendered Aragorn speechless, unable to dispute him. And Aramarth continued to speak with no interruption.

"To be implacable against treason, to wipe my adversaries out of my way, to not prolong the battle but finish it swiftly; such are the responsibilities I learned well, and today I fulfilled them all in the light of what my teachers instructed."

A long silence fell between the two kings as Aragorn pondered over the words he'd heard. All anger had been drained from him, replaced by an ominous sense of disquiet upon knowing all Aramarth had said was truth, but still unable to understand why the Eldar nobles had come to such extremes in the bestowed authority of their only heir.

"I will never speak to you again on this matter, Aragorn; and that is why I must leave everything clear to you now."

"Speak then, I am listening."

"I have taken the protection of Arwen as my pledge; for she is the Evenstar of my people, and cherished above any other in this world. No matter how much you think she belongs to you, I will not bother to seek your consent when it comes to defending her or the child she bears. If I'm ever in the need to go against your will to do what I think best for their safety, I will not hesitate to do so. Until the day she falls to the fate your love brought upon her and the grave consumes her beauty, I will protect her, paying no heed to the cost or the consequences. Do you understand this?"

A cold hand bit at Aragorn's entrails, feeling helpless before the Elven king's irrevocable decree. He wanted to gripe, to shout out the grievance that had fallen upon his shoulders; but deep inside he knew there was no use to voice his discontent. Gripped by a new fear of the power that had risen in one he once called friend, the King of Men, against his wishes, nodded numbly, unable to look in the eyes of Aramarth.

"I understand."

"You do not approve..."

"No, but that is irrelevant to you."

"Will you confront me on this?"

"Why would you care if I do?"

"Because I hope you can still believe that the part of me not bound by duty and oath values your friendship beyond anything you can imagine."

Aragorn was taken aback by the sudden fond candidness of the elf's words; still he managed to respond.

"I see your eyes and I know you speak truth in this as much as before."

"Aragorn, this clash between us does not please me. I was left behind with this burden to be able to stand behind you and give you strength as well. I am not your enemy; I am on your side and will fight for you until the last drop of my blood is spilled. I was hoping we could get through this together as we always have."

Aragorn stepped away from him, turning to leave. "I need time to even try to accept this. I take your leave, and ask you to remember me in your prayers."

"I will."

And so it was that the kings parted ways, one to the refuge of the forest and the other to the comforting embrace of his wife. Both knew that the friendship they once shared would never be the same again.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Hello, my dear, ever-patient readers! Once again I'm back with a sack of apologizes… But also good news!

Yes, I'm posting two chapters almost at once, one today, one tomorrow!

But wait wait wait!

Before you go to next chapter, for the love of God, review this one.