Chapter Twenty-Two: Courage To Smile, Wisdom To Hope

The night was still and all the palace waited in silence for word of their king. She had not moved since Legolas had brought her here this morning. Elessar's hand was cradled gently in hers and she rubbed it subconsciously as if to remind him of her presence. The moon was full and cast a brilliant light through the windows as the twinkling stars watched over them unceasingly. She looked around the room where those who kept watch over her slept uneasily.

Legolas' flaxen hair had fallen over his face as he rested his chin against his chest, but she knew he was only dozing for she was acutely aware of his watchful presence. Next to him, snoring quietly, was the stout dwarf who had become in the days since Elessar fell, her most fierce and loyal protector. Never did he let her out of his sight unless she was with Legolas or perhaps Faramir. Lastly, was the young prince who had kept the city of Gondor safe while they were away, he that had come to her during her time in Nian, he who had killed his father to set her free. Ilterrin's face was lined with weariness and she longed for him to be free of the burdens that his past had laid upon him but knew that it could not be.

She looked, as she had all day, to the weak figure of her husband as his shaky breath continued, each pause between seeming to be longer than the last. She sighed softly and took the cloth on the nightstand and wet it with cool water from the nearby pitcher. With shaking hands she laid it across his burning forehead and prayed that the Valar might spare him.

All day as she had sat in tense silence, she had tried to recall the elven knowledge that had been forgotten upon her arrival on these shadowed shores. All the lessons taught to her by her father, mother, brother and sister. Many came to her and she gained some comfort from the return of her memories but with them came yet another sorrow for those who were now remembered, dwelt across the sea in Valinor, far from her grasp. Many were those who loved her now but they could not compare to those who had loved her as a child and tried to shield her from all the pain that she had felt upon these shores.

Still, she could not help but wonder if she would have felt shame at having lived a life free of pain, sorrow and hurt, knowing that those who came to their shores had suffered for many years while she had lived freely. What of all those who she never would have met? No, despite the pain she had learned here, it had taught her to value peace and joy more. What right had she to live happily while so many here suffered?

Her heavy thoughts were too much to keep still and so she rose, leaning forward and kissing his pale face tenderly, before she silently left him. Two of the Dunedain stood guard outside the door and they both saluted her stiffly as she passed. The halls were empty, even the healers it seemed were sleeping as she wandered the lonely hall, lit with torches embellished with silver. She walked to the end of the hall where large glass doors let in the light of night and she gazed across the plains that surrounded them, sparkling with the heavy frost of early spring. The city was dark, no lamps burned within the yawning windows, no sleepless man wandering the streets, no young mother soothing her small child.

It seemed all mourned the death of their king but as she considered this, another thought struck her hard so that she leaned against the cool glass to keep herself from falling. She mourned him and yet he was not dead. Had she truly so little hope that he would live that already she had surrendered him to Mandos? Worse than this was the fact that all others had lost hope as well. With Elessar fallen they now looked to her to be their hope and she had failed them. She let her forehead rest against the cool glass as warm tears slid down her cheeks, crying for the hopeless people of Gondor and for her own selfishness. She was not the only wife whose husband had fallen that day, in fact many had lost not only husbands but brothers and sons as well and yet they did not stop living as she had. She who knew better than most that it is not the pain felt but the will to live that determines who shall stay and who shall journey on.

She reached up to wipe away her tears and heard a soft sound that tore at her heart. She turned hoping to find its source and stopped at the door across from the room where Elessar lay. For a moment she hesitated, unsure of what she should do before opening the door noiselessly, closing it gently behind her. The room was dark except for the dying coals that sparked half-heartedly on the hearth of warm stones. Without speaking she made her way to the bed across the room where the large form of the mending king of Rohan could be seen in the dim light. However, it was the slender form of his sister that held her attention as the woman wept quietly, her face in her hands at she sat on the small cot that had been brought for her.

Eowyn tried to stifle her crying, afraid that she would wake Eomer, or Faramir who lay on the couch beneath the window, sleeping. She did not understand why her tears came now after she knew that he would fully mend but she could not contain them as she sat watching the even rise and fall of his broad chest. She had almost lost him and that thought overwhelmed her now as she sat alone, weeping in the darkness. She had already lost so many, her mother and father, Theodred and her uncle, and now Aragorn lay nearby fighting to stay in this world. She lay down slowly, burying her face in the soft sheets as sobs shook her body.

She gasped when she felt a warm hand brush against her own softly. She looked up and was surprised to find that she could see her face plainly for it shone as if the light came from the elleth herself and not the window behind her. She immediately pulled herself up and swiped fiercely at the tears as the queen stood watching her silently.

"Please, forgive me, I did not mean to wake you, your Majesty," she apologized hastily, her voice thick with tears, but there was no trace of anger in the queen's fair face and so she continued. "I was just sitting here thinking about…and I, I just started crying and I don't even know why…I'm just, just," and she covered her mouth with her hands as she began crying again, unable to speak her terrible fears.

Without a sound, the timid queen sat down beside her and Eowyn was surprised to feel herself pulled against the queen's small form. At first she pulled away slightly but the queen held her gently in place and finally Eowyn surrendered, burying her face against the soft velvet robe as the queen stroked her head soothingly and spoke words that she could not understand as painful sobs pulled at her. Slowly, her tears grew less and she rested against the queen feeling safe as she had once felt in her mother's arms. The moon's light altered and the sky grew dark as the queen shifted so that Eowyn's head rested in her lap. She felt warm and safe, like a child as the queen draped a blanket over her, stroking her hair and singing softly as the first sounds of life began outside.


Faramir woke to find the sun partway through its morning journey. He woke with a sense of peace that was a stark contrast to the overwhelming despair that had held him as he fell asleep the night before. He had vague memories of a sweet, haunting melody, a song of the First Born that he had once heard Legolas sing following the War of the Ring. He rubbed his face with his hands as he sat, telling himself it must have been a dream. Eomer seemed not to have stirred the whole night through, which was comforting and he stood and moved to the side of his bed, watching as the Rohirric king slept soundly. For some time he stood without speaking, remembering how close to death the man before him had come and how much closer to death his king was now.

He sighed deeply and pulled the blankets around Eomer before moving to leave, pausing only to look at his beloved who lay sleeping peacefully near her elder brother. He knelt and kissed her gently at which she stirred only slightly before returning to dreams that he hoped were filled with peace and happiness. The hallway bustled with the quiet tenseness of the healers of Gondor as they walked silently to and fro, from one patient to the next, each one glancing at the door where they knew the king lay as they passed. The guards outside Elessar's chamber inclined their heads as he moved to open the door but his hand paused midair when he heard someone call to him softly. It was Maeve and she motioned him to follow her into the outer hall. He looked back at the door once before leaving the hall, unable to rid himself of the notion that the king might be dead at this very moment and he did not know it.

"They are not there, my lord," she whispered quietly and he looked at her puzzled, wondering who she was speaking of. "The queen and the others who waited with her, they have gone."

His throat went dry and his voice was hoarse when he finally gathered the courage to speak the words he knew he must.

"Then the king is dead?"

"Oh, arda no! Forgive me, my lord, perhaps I have been too guarded in my speech," she answered as his heart began beating once more. "There is no change in his Majesty's condition, it is the Queen who has changed."

"She is not ill, I hope."

"Nay, not at all, quite the opposite in fact," Maeve answered quickly and Faramir realized that they were walking towards the outer doors. "She has gone into the city."

Faramir stopped at her words, unable to understand what they meant, all he could manage to ask was,

"Is she alone?"

Maeve laughed for the first time since the king had been brought to the palace.

"Nay, Prince Legolas and Master Gimli are with her, Prince Ilterrin has begun the preparations for the Foreign Council."

"You do not mean that the Council has decided to have the others in Gondor while the king is ill?"

"That is precisely what I mean, under orders of Queen Saeorii."

Faramir was not sure what surprised him more, that the Foreign Council would meet as planned in a matter of weeks or that Saeorii had been the one to decide it. He realized what this meant; she had accepted her role, as Lady of the White City, the thrones of Gondor would not both be empty. He thanked Maeve hastily and rushed outside the palace where two Dunedain stood guard. They nodded as he passed but he did not heed them as he flew down flight after flight of stairs toward the heart of the city. As he did he heard a strange sound and paused as he realized suddenly what it was: the City. All around him came the hum of voices as the people of his city slowly began to fill the streets as they had done since before he could remember. It startled him for the city had been silent for so many days and yet now, as suddenly as the return of spring, it had come back to life.

He continued on, his progress slower now as the saddened people left the shelter of their homes while the sun shone down on them, the warmth of the coming spring in the midmorning air. Suddenly, the air was pierced with a familiar, yet distant, sound and he was surprised beyond words as he hurried towards it. The wonderful laughter of children rang through the air like the purest of bells or horns and his heart felt lighter as it grew closer. Above their light voices came the gruff laughter of Gimli and the trickling laughter of the elven prince. He turned the last corner into the largest courtyard and felt tears in his eyes at the sight that met him.

If he had ever doubted the magic of elves was strong in his queen there was no doubt now as he watched her among the laughing children. She wore a simple dress, the colour of deep violets beneath a cloak of black upon which the white tree of Arnor glistened in the sun. Her dark hair was loose except for two strands that were pulled from her face and fastened with a silver clip shaped like a star. Her fair cheeks held the colour of the palest rose, an enchanting light seemed to come from her as to make the morning sun seem dim and though she did not laugh as her two companions, her dark eyes danced. A small girl pranced at the queen's feet and stretched her hands up expectantly to which the queen smiled tenderly and pulled the little one into her warm embrace. As she stood with the child in her arms, she caught his gaze and her cheeks grew darker for a moment as she timidly met his eyes. He saw there the deep sorrow that made the depth of her eyes deeper and the fear that made her seem slightly smaller.

She had not forgotten her husband who lay inside the palace, but neither had she forgotten her husband's people. He had heard the whispers of many who spoke of what would happen when the king died. Who would become king? What would become of Gondor? Many feared those Elessar had banished from the Council would rise up and dethrone their elven queen; others believed that he himself would be called from Ithilien to sit upon the throne where his father had once sat as Steward. They spoke of the queen's fear, her tentativeness, and the cruelties that had been done to her, although most knew only a little. She held the heart of the people of Gondor but still they wondered if she would be strong enough to continue. He did not wonder for he had seen in her the timid love that mended the heart and soul of his broken king, the great compassion for the fearful and hurting people of Gondor, the gentle determination with which she faced the army of the Haradrim, and now, above all this, he saw her silent strength that gave her the courage to smile in times of sorrow and the wisdom to give hope to all who doubted.


Ilterrin yawned, his eyes burning with weariness as he stared at the endless replies of those who would begin arriving as early as tomorrow for the Foreign Council. He paused, resting his head in his hands as he tried to imagine what would take place without King Elessar there to keep peace and order. Though the Council of Gondor respected him, he feared that he was not well enough informed about the issues that would be brought before the Foreign Council to do them justice. He was relieved to know that Prince Faramir, King Eomer and Lady Eowyn would be with him but still feared that he would be seen as an ignorant child. He did not wish to dishonour Elessar, who had shown him much kindness and friendship in the past months.

He sighed and stared into the flickering flames of the candles upon his desk that burned low, as the night grew darker without. There was so much to do and it was much more difficult to accomplish it all when the better part of him wished to be sitting at Elessar's side. He shook his head, knowing full well that he would accomplish no more tonight and had stood to blow out the candles when a young page burst through the door.

"What is the meaning of this," he demanded sharply, having learned that in Gondor he needed to be firm, lest he be trampled beneath the feet of the lords and ladies of the house.

"Please, Prince Ilterrin, there are visitors at the gates who request council with the king."

"You know that is not possible," he stated, his temper flaring at the audacity of some who believed that the king, who now lay on his deathbed, should greet them at the gates. "If they are here for the Council you must tell them that they will have to wait for the gates to be opened in the morning."

"They say they will not leave and that if King Elessar will not come to them that they must speak with Prince Faramir."

"Where are they from," he questioned sternly.

"They bear no banner and will not say, but their voices are strange, like nothing I've ever heard before."

He stood, unsure of himself for a moment, staring at the stone floor beneath his feet as he wondered who these people might be. Few indeed were those who demanded anything of the mighty King Elessar.

"Shall I bring Prince Faramir for you," the boy asked quietly and Ilterrin realized that he had been standing there without speaking for some time.

"Nay, Prince Faramir is with King Eomer and Lady Eowyn, I would not disturb him unless I am left no choice. I will go to them myself, bring me my mount."

"Yes sir, your Majesty," the boy called as he raced down the hall, forgetting to close the door on his way through.

Ilterrin blew out the single candle that now flickered dimly and strode after the boy, his stomach growing tighter as he wondered who stood at their gate. Surely it was not some foe, come to strike Gondor down at its weakest moment. He nodded to the guards who saluted him as he passed through the doors into the crisp night air. He reached for his mount, pausing a moment to look at the moon that turned the sleeping city of stone to silver as he rode through the empty streets, his horse's hooves echoing like the striking of hammer against steel. By the time he reached the gate a small crowd had gathered but they parted for him as he rushed up the stairs to the gate tower where he found Kar speaking nervously with two of his companions.

"Tell me what you know of those who demand council with King Elessar," he spoke quickly, knowing that with Kar, formalities were second to the well being of his king and queen.

"They speak little and their voices are strange," the man began but Ilterrin interrupted him.

"Strange how?"

"Well, your Majesty, if I were made to guess I would say they are elvish voices. They are fair and remind me of the Queen's sweet voice, though perhaps not quite so fair as hers. However, they will not answer our questions, which is strange for elves are usually forthcoming."

Ilterrin stood for long moments wondering what was to be done while the men around him watched him closely. He walked towards one of the small windows and could just make out the shadows of three mounted figures below. He could hear their soft voices drifting upward and recognised, as Kar did not, that they were indeed speaking a soft tongue, similar to that of the elven prince who now dwelt with them in Gondor. He thought it strange that there should be elves here this time of year for he knew well the treacherous weather of the north lasted long after the fairness of spring began here in Gondor.

"Raise the gate," he instructed quietly as he made for the stairs. "I will speak with them. Do not challenge them, but keep your weapons close. I do not wish to offend the elves but nor do I wish to be caught unaware in some scheme that our enemy may have devised for us."

Their answer, if they gave any, was not heard by him as he rushed down the stairs again, the grinding of the gate mechanisms masking the sound of his footsteps. As he reached the bottom the loud clank of the portcullis told him that the gates would soon be open. Softly, he ordered the guards to stand down, which they did warily and he knew they doubted him as the gates at last swung open and the three riders entered. Their mounts bore no tack of any type and their cloaks made them seem mere shadows in the moonlight. The two foremost dismounted while the third kept his seat, observing the goings on in watchful silence.

"Please, we must speak with King Elessar," one stated in the common tongue, though Ilterrin noticed the slight accent of the stranger.

"I fear that is not possible, my lord," he answered sternly, surprised that his voice did not betray the fear he felt.

"Please," spoke the second, "then where is Prince Faramir?"

"I fear that neither is able to meet you, I have come in their stead. I am Prince Ilterrin, of Nian and have been the guard of this city while his Majesty was in Eraidor."

"That is all very well but perhaps you could tell us why we are not allowed to see the king," the first stated, his voice growing hard and making Ilterrin even more wary.

"Firstly, you come to us armed, but bearing no banner. Secondly, you tell us nothing of who you are or in who's name you come, how are we to know whether you are friend or foe?"

"Well spoken, young prince," the first answered more kindly, "and in time we shall be made known to you, for now you must be content to know that we are friends to Gondor but firstly is the matter of the king."

Ilterrin felt more at ease now that these strangers were within the gates and fell silent for a moment as he looked out at the dark plains behind them. He looked back at the two who stood close to him, their slender forms almost lost in the shade of the guard tower as the men around him stood tensely, waiting for his word but he knew that none expected the words he spoke next.

"Close the gates," he ordered quietly and waited until the gates were closed before he spoke once more. The guards looked at him strangely, but he ignored them, speaking only to the strangers who he could sense were watching him. "By all laws of this city, you should be made to leave but there is something about you that bids me to trust you despite the fact I know you not. I do not doubt what you have said, and sense that you are closer to the king that I know. Therefore, it is with a heavy heart that I must tell you of his state. He has been wounded and now lies within the palace, his beloved and all our friends at his side where I shall soon go as well, for they tell us that it is likely that he will not survive the night."


Her tears fell steadily but her lip did not tremble, nor did harsh sobs break the deafening silence as they all sat, waiting for the moment they feared most. She sat on the edge of his bed, his hand held in one of hers while she absently stroked the side of his face with the other. His wound was too deep; there was nothing more that those of Gondor could do for him and it grieved her more than anything she had ever known. At first she had been afraid of him but soon he had become her refuge and now she feared what would become of her if he should pass.

She intertwined his fingers and hers; gazing at the two silver bands they bore that, in the custom of men, told of their marriage. She remembered the ring she had once wore that told she was a royal of the High House but all its beauty meant little to her. She smiled sadly through her tears as she caught herself thinking that his beard had grown too long and remembered fondly its roughness against her face when he kissed her. She would remember his deep voice, his silver eyes that shone like stars, the deep rumbling of his laughter when her head lay against his chest, the way his face changed when he smiled. She would remember his tenderness, the gentleness of his touch, his mighty strength, the sense of safety she gained from his presence. More than all this though she would remember the feeling of lying with him at night, safe in his arms, listening as the palace grew quiet around them before he would kiss her softly. She would always remember him.

She blinked quickly as tears blurred her vision while the others stood nearby, their own tears shining like liquid gold in the light of the many candles that burned around them. She leaned back against Legolas and turned her head against his chest, letting him wrap his arms around her as she wept soundlessly against him, her husband's cool hand grasped tightly in her own while his breaths grew shorter. Faramir stood behind Legolas, his hand firmly grasping the elf's shoulder as he watched his king fade. Nearby, Gimli stood, his head bowed as tears glistened in his rough beard. On the other side of the bed, Eomer sat, his own face still pale from the injuries he had incurred. Behind him stood Eowyn, who rested her chin on her brother's broad shoulder, rubbing his arm soothingly as he wiped her tears. Ilterrin had not yet come and she feared that perhaps the young prince would be too late as beside her Elessar wheezed painfully. She turned from Legolas as Maeve moved forward, eager to ease the king's pain in his final moments if it was at all possible.

She jumped when the guards knocked softly at the door and looked back quickly at Faramir who went to the door. She turned her gaze back to Elessar; afraid if she looked away he would leave without her knowing. She waited to hear the soft sound of the door shutting but did not and at last pulled her attention from her husband and back to the door. She gasped and felt Legolas turn to look as she leapt unsteadily to her feet and raced towards the door, fresh tears falling as she was surrounded by the protective embrace of her husband's brothers.

"Elladan, Elrohir," she whispered quietly in elvish, unable to say any more. Elladan pulled her closer and kissed her hair softly before going to the bed where his brother lay dying. Elrohir held her close and let her cry quietly for some time before at last he spoke.

"We have come, Carynthiel," he whispered in her ear, the last word softer than the others as her heart stopped and she looked into his grey eyes questioningly as she heard Legolas gasp behind her for he was the only one other than Elessar who knew her by that name here.

He brushed his hand against her cheek lightly before stepping away so that she could see the door behind him as a third figure entered. His hood was dark grey like those worn by the twins but he was taller and there was a familiar power about him that made her shiver, making her glad for Elrohir's arms around her. Legolas now stood behind them and the others were watching closely as the figure took another careful step forward. For a moment she doubted but her heart told her that it was true. She stood, Legolas and Elrohir at her side, staring at the third elf that stood watching her silently. She could sense the elf's anguish, his sorrow, his grief, but most of all his love.

To be continued…