Land of the King

Chapter 22: The Shields that Guard the Realms of Men

Dear Uncle,

I know that we were never close but I hope that you would be willing to read my words and hear my plea.

The power of the Sceptre has been usurped by the Council and Lord Tarannon of Minas Anor, the Steward, usurped my power through force of arms.

I fully admit to my youth and inexperience. Uncle, I need your wisdom to guide me. If you wish it, I offer you a full pardon and permission to return to Arnor to help me put things in order.

Your Nephew,

Beleg Elendillion, High King of Arnor.

Cirion read through the letter again. It was short and brief, yet the message was one that required a lot of thought.

He was tempted to accept for a moment, so very tempted. Yet as soon as his temptation had come, it vanished away. There was nothing left for him in Arnor.

His father and mother were both long dead, and the latter hurt far more than the first. Cirion still remembered to this day, the words of the last letter his mother had ever sent him, words of apology and despair. He would later find out that his nephew had watched her jump, powerless to stop it.

Both of his brothers, for good or for ill, were lost as well too. Apart from Beleg, there was only one other person Cirion truly cared for left in Arnor, his oldest friend, Aratan.

Yet Cirion knew full well that it would not be a good idea to return to Arnor. The damage it would deal to the Royal Family's reputation would be crushing, and more than that, it would not be right for him to return.

He looked out from his quarters over the rest of the Nightfort. His place was here now, at the Night's Watch and the comrades who had become his brothers in a way his blood brothers had never truly been.

How could he face them if he chose to abandon them? How could he face those who had followed him into exile?

No. His time as Prince Cirion of Arnor was long over. Yet that did not mean that he would give no aid to his nephew. Quickly he penned a letter to his nephew containing his advice and enclosed a second letter to his old friend Aratan, beseeching him to give Beleg his aid.

The Night's Watch too no part in the disputes of the realms south of the Wall, even doing that much was not right. Yet as much as he tried to move on, he would never be able to deny that some part of him would always be loyal to Arnor.

As he left the rookery after sending a raven carrying the letters, he was found by a messenger who told him that the Lord Commander wished to see him immediately. Thanking his sworn brother for the message, Cirion made for the Lord Commander's solar as swiftly as possible.

As he entered the Lord Commander's solar, Cirion was reminded harshly yet again of the lifespans of lesser men. Twenty years ago, a strong and energetic man had, without knowing, given Cirion a new purpose in life. It was painful and tragic to see that same man now, his hair white and his skin wrinkled.

The Lord Commander no longer held the strength to even fight, but his mind remained sharp.

"Ah, First Ranger Cirion, do take a seat my friend."

Cirion had to suppress the sense of pride that came over him whenever he heard the title. After the death of Sygerrik Crowl, the previous First Ranger, Lord Commander Wylis had chosen Cirion for the position of First Ranger and he had proudly borne it for five years now.

With his position as First Ranger, Cirion had begun training his Rangers up to the standards of the King's Rangers of Arnor. Under his leadership, they had become a force worthy of Arnor and Cirion would not be afraid to lead his men into battle, even against the rangers of his homeland.

Obeying the Lord Commander's orders, Cirion took a seat as he asked the reason for his summoning.

"May I inquire to the reason for your summons my lord?"

"Oh stop with the pleasantries already Cirion, you know how much I hate those. This is the Night's Watch, not some flowery southern pansy realm."

Cirion smirked, knowing how much his superior hated being addressed like that. "Very well, Wylis."

Wylis's face turned dark as he spoke his next words.

"As First Ranger, you are no doubt aware of the whispers that we have heard? Of a pair of brothers trying to make themselves the new Kings Beyond the Wall."

Cirion straightened to attention in his seat. This was a serious matter.

"Of course."

"Word has recently come that these new kings have managed to unite a not insignificant portion of the wilding clans. However, they have yet to make any hostile moves against our order. We need to know what they are planning. I need your Rangers out there, scouting for their movements. Most riskily of all, I need a team of Rangers to get as close as possible. Identify this king and if possible, end his reign before he becomes a threat."

Cirion grimaced, "Permission to leave the Nightfort sir?"

"Permission granted. Which mission do you intend to take?"

"I will send my men on no mission I am not willing to take myself. It has been a long time since I was out on the field."

As Cirion left the solar to make his preparations, he was not aware of the Lord Commander watching him leave.

"And that is exactly the trait that makes you the man I want to succeed me, Cirion."

Immediately after his meeting with the Lord Commander, Cirion gathered his best men in the courtyard of the Nightfort. He briefed them on their mission and ordered all of them to do their very best to return safe.

At the end of the meeting, Cirion asked Aglaran to remain behind.

"I have a different job for you Aglaran. I need you as my partner on the most dangerous mission of all. We will be infiltrating deep into the enemy camp in an attempt to learn their plans, and if possible, eliminate their leader."

"You are coming along? Best hope your skills haven't rusted then old friend."

"Oh I still know enough to knock you on your ass in the yard."

Cirion shook his head at his friend's words. The past two decades had seen Aglaran become his brother in every way that mattered. Cirion had never forgotten the harsh but important lesson Aglaran had taught him all those years ago and he would forever be grateful for his friend's loyalty and companionship.

That night as Cirion prepared his kit for the mission ahead, his gaze was drawn to the obsidian dagger sitting on his desk. The Tawarwaith had once given hundreds of these very daggers to the Night's Watch every year, but as time passed and the Children declined, the amount and frequency of the shipments had steadily declined. The last time a shipment had come had been when the Lord Commander had just joined the Watch and Cirion had still been a reckless and hotheaded young prince.

Though old legends still held that obsidian had been deadly to the mythical Others, their true purpose had long been forgotten by the Watch and to Cirion's knowledge, had never been known in Arnor. What daggers that remained had now become a ceremonial symbol of rank and office in the Watch and as First Ranger, Cirion had received one.

He did not know why, but something told him to bring the dagger along, a warrior's instinct of sorts. Cirion packed the dagger in with his other weapons, absentmindedly thinking there was no harm in bringing an extra weapon. Who knew, perhaps it could be useful for the mission?

The next day, Cirion, Aglaran, and the rest of the Rangers sent on the ranging made their way across the Black Gate together before splitting up north of the Wall.

According to the plan, Cirion and Aglaran would attempt to sneak into the enemy camp whilst the remaining Rangers would split up and patrol the lands between the wildling camp and the Wall. If necessary, they would be called in to reinforce them but Cirion doubted that. Two Dúnedain Rangers should not be underestimated.

As he and Aglaran made their way north, Cirion's hand wrapped around the small black shield pendant that served as a brooch for his cloak. Under Cirion, and with the Lord Commander's permission, the Rangers of the Night's Watch had ceased wearing all black, wearing instead a mottled cloak and jerkin of varying colours such as black, grey, dark green, and white to help them camouflage in the Lands Beyond the Wall and blend into their surroundings. The black shield brooch was the symbol of their position in the Night's Watch, replacing their previously black cloaks.

Finally, after three weeks on foot, Cirion and Aglaran had reached the Widling camp. The camp was situated near a large cave and there were a number of wildlings moving in and out of the cave.

"Look at that, what do you think they are doing?" Cirion asked, pointing to the cave.

"I do not know, we have to get closer."

That night, after sunset, the two rangers strung their bows and sneaked up on the camp. Ito many their ability to move without detection was like magic but in truth, years of training and practice had enabled them to move practically unseen, even across open ground.

Aglaran was far better than Cirion, having been trained in Arnor, but Cirion was no slouch either. Two decades of training from former King's Rangers had made him more than decent at moving stealthily.

As they creeped closer to the cave, they could hear voices. Hiding in the rocks to the side of the cave, they attempted to listen in, using their Númenórean hearing.

"Welcome Chief Raymun to Gorne's Way! I am Gorne and this is my brother Gendel."

"Shut up," said the man appearing to be Chief Raymun. "I only came because Gendel was able to defeat me. He said nothing of having a twin brother, or of sharing the title of King Beyond the Wall with him."

"Ah, you see Gendel and I make quite the pair. I am the thinker and he the skullcrusher, together we not need fear any adversary. You may not respect me nearly as much as you respect my brother, but I guarantee you Chief Raymun, that your journey has not been in vain."

Even with their enhanced hearing, Cirion and Aglaran could barely hear the conversation. Risking discovery, they moved as close as they dared, coming within twenty feet of the wilding chieftains.

"Behind me is a cave, however it is no ordinary cave. It leads into a passageway that can allow us to get south of the Wall, from underground."

Cirion and Aglaran froze when they heard that. If this Gorne's words were true, the wildlings could bypass the Wall entirely and attack the Night's Watch from the south, and as Cirion had noted all those years ago, the castles of the Wall were unprotected from the south.

"Any man can claim to be able to teach a dog to talk, yet such a thing will never happen. What proof have you of your claims?" demanded Chief Raymun.

Gorne smiled, and presented a very familiar weapon to Chief Raymun, a steelbow. "This is a weapon wielded by some of the crows, those who came from some faraway kneeler kingdom in the south. I took a crow by surprise in the south and killed him."

Cirion realised that this explained the disappearance of one of his rangers in the Gift a year ago, and that meant that Gorne was telling the truth. This was very bad.

"I have never seen this weapon before, for all I know you had it made. Do you truly expect me to believe that it is wielded by the crows?"

Gorne smiled. "No need to take my word for it Chief Raymun. Let's ask our friends skulking in those rocks over there," he said, turning to look directly at Cirion and Aglaran.

Realising they had been caught, Cirion and Aglaran broke cover and fired a volley of arrows at Gorne and the other wildings, inadvertently proving Gorne's claims when their actions revealed the steelbows they carried.

Most of their arrows flew true, cutting down many of the wildlings at the meeting. Yet the most important one of all, the arrow aimed at Gorne's heart did not.

Half of their mission had failed, and it was unlikely they would get another shot at killing Gorne. As they fled back into the Haunted Forest, Cirion realised how they were caught, espying the eagle flying in the sky above. Skinchangers were not unheard of in the Lands Beyond the Wall after all.

Skilfully evading their pursuers, Cirion and Aglaran blended into the darkness, and began their return journey to the Wall. Time was of the essence.

Above them, a murder of crows cawed into the night beneath a crescent moon.


Beleg hated how even in death, the words of the accursed Lord Tarannon plagued him. Immediately after subduing the Council of the Sceptre, Beleg had moved to crush Tarannon's pitiful rebellion.

With control of the Council of the Sceptre, and all the lords as his effective hostage, Tarannon was alone in his rebellion though some of his friends had been able to warn him about Beleg's intentions.

After a brief siege in which Tarannon was betrayed by his own family, Minas Anor once again submitted to its rightful king and Beleg claimed Tarannon's neck.

Even as his head rested on the block before him however, Tarannon remained stubborn and defiant to the end.

"You will never be a true king."

Those would be his last words before Narsil sliced through his neck.

In his dreams, Beleg saw his ancestors repeating the very same words. He knew he should not worry, he had proven his calibre when he had reasserted his authority after all, but still he worried on whether or not he could live up to the legacy of the Line of Elendil.

As he stared out at the full moon above, Beleg's thoughts wandered to the last remaining member of his family. Could he trust his uncle now? He had after all given him aid when he had no obligation to do so, and being so far away at the Wall, Beleg wondered if it would be dangerous to confide his fears in his uncle.

That reminded him. He had yet to send a letter thanking his uncle for his aid. He had tried, but nothing he had written had seemed right. Even his first letter had been brief and straight to the point. In truth, Beleg knew not how to interact with his estranged uncle.

Feeling curious on what his uncle was up to, he made his way to the hidden room in the Tower of Elendil. Nodding to the guards ever on duty here, Beleg stepped up to the huge dark sphere on the pedestal before him.

The palantir of Annúminas, the Master-stone, greatest of the Seven. It was so large that not even Beleg, a Dúnadan of the Royal Line, could lift it alone.

Placing his hand upon the stone, Beleg turned his gaze upon Westeros. He looked over his realm, watching his people sleep in the night, before turning his gaze on Highgarden, where his father's killer, Gawen Gardener rested.

Though he knew the time was not ripe for Arnor to claim its vengeance on the Reach, Beleg still simmered to know that his father's killer slept secure and easy.

Nevertheless, I swear Gawen, be it the rule of your grandson or mine, your line will end one day.

Calming himself from his anger, Beleg turned the palantir's gaze north to the Nightfort at the Wall, searching for his uncle. Realising his uncle was likely on a ranging, Beleg attempted to look beyond the Wall.

He found that to his surprise, the Wall was a barrier of sorts to his sight, as every mile beyond, Beleg had to expend more and more of his will and strength to see anything at all. Eventually, Beleg found himself unable to see anything but a cloudy white blizzard, obscuring his view.

That was when he felt it, a strange sense that he was being watched not watching. Trying desperately to escape, he turned the palantir's gaze and saw a sea of blue eyes staring at him.

"Your Majesty!"

The guard had forcibly pulled Beleg's hand from the palantir, breaking the connection. To his shock, Beleg saw a coating of crystals on the surface of the palantir and indeed some of it was on his hand as well. Feeling cold, Beleg looked at his and then the surface of the palantir, inspecting the substance.

It's ice?


North of the Wall, an exhausted Cirion and Aglaran finally stopped. They had been traveling as fast as they could the past few nights to reach the Wall in time to warn them of Gorne's plan but not even the Dúnedain could run forever.

Taking a break to catch their breaths and drink greedily from their waterskins, they suddenly felt the temperature around them inexplicably grow colder by the second. Feeling the gaze of something, they turned around and saw it.

It was beautiful beyond belief, and yet also startlingly inhuman. It was tall and gaunt, with flesh pale as milk, glowing in the silver light of the full moon. Two eyes as bright as blue stars shone from its immaculate chiselled face. It was as dangerous as it was elegant, approaching them with a long, crystal ice sword in hand. Its beautiful appearance hid the malice and evil in its heart as it smirked at them.