Land of the King
Chapter 36: Strife Amongst Kin
3149 E.L
His father coughed yet again, making Arvedui wince.
Age was cruel, and not even the Dúnedain were immune to the passing of time. When their time came, they would age swiftly, going from the prime of their life to the decrepit frailty and senility of old age in less than ten years. And now over a century after his wife's death, Araphant would follow her into the afterlife.
King Araphant was now a far cry from the imposing and intimidating figure he had once been. His hair had all turned grey, and his skin was wrinkled and saggy. He was now so weak, he could not even leave his bed, and had to be spoon fed by someone else.
"I had hoped…," Araphant said, his next words being interrupted by a number wailing cough, "to at least make it to four hundred, but it appears Eru has other plans in mind."
Despite the severity of the situation, Arvedui chuckled, "You should try and save your strength."
"Ahh, what does it matter. Nothing can stop it now, what is the point in clinging to life further? It's been over a century since I saw your mother, I wouldn't mind going to see her a little earlier."
Arvedui's smile faded. Had it really been over 119 years since his mother died? So much had happened since then, he had fallen out with Argeleb, married Firiel, and had two amazing sons. Yet he was soon to lose the last of his parents.
"Please, try and stay a little longer Father. I… I need your guidance. I'm not ready to rule, I can't do this without you, can't keep the kingdom from going to war without you," Arvedui confessed.
"No, you don't. You're better than I ever was. You have the strength that I never had, the ruthlessness needed to end this once and for all. I should never have left this to you, I'm a terrible father," his father rasped out, before letting out yet another wheezing cough.
Clearing his throat as much as he could, Araphant continued, "You asked me once if I ever regretted marrying your mother. The answer is still no. But I regret that I did not have the courage, the will to do what had to be done. I was a coward, trying to run from my responsibility in all of this mess. Please, find it in yourself one day to forgive your father won't you?"
"There's nothing to forgive Father!"
"You say that now. I guarantee you will curse me when you wade through the blood of our kinsmen because of my cowardice. It's too late now, I will die an old man full of regrets. I leave it all to you Arvedui. Finish it, once and for all. Become the man I knew you were born to be," Araphant said, his last words almost like a whisper as he finally let go and released his soul from the world.
"Goodbye Father," Arvedui said, wiping the tears from his face. He had no time to mourn because war was on the horizon.
"Aranarth, I entrust this mission only to you."
"Do you truly believe that Prince Earendil could be swayed to our side?" his son asked.
"If it is you to convince him then I know it will be done. You cannot fail! Our lives depend on it."
"I understand Father."
"Good, now go!" Arvedui commanded to his son, causing him and his escort to leave through the Great Gates of Annúminas at full gallop.
Faster than anyone had thought possible, Argeleb had mustered the forces of the Purists and had marched north from Minas Ithil at lightning speed. His forces were now but a day's march from the city.
There was still a chance that Arvedui and his family could escape, but he would be no king if he tucked his tail and ran from his enemy. Annúminas had never fallen. Arvedui was not about to let it fall now.
That was what he had thought, yet when he had woken the next day to find the host Argeleb had gathered before his walls, Arvedui wondered if he could truly hold the city against his cousin.
What had to be at least thirty thousand men had camped outside the walls of Annúminas. For a moment, Arvedui had thought hope lost before he steeled his resolve.
The walls of Annúminas were built out of black stone, indestructible and impervious to all things. They had not a single weapon which could even put a scratch on that substance. If Argeleb wanted the city, he would have to go through the gates, and he would bleed him for every gate he tried to break through.
He calmed himself down further by reminding himself that even should Aranarth fail to convince Dol Amroth, Minas Anor was sure to come to their aid. Ondoher would not abandon him, not when his daughter and grandson would die with him.
In the spirit of defiance, Arvedui began planning raids on his cousin's camp, to destroy their siege equipment and cause as much chaos as possible. Food was not a concern, for the Royal Navy was defending the shipping lanes that fed Annúminas. Hard rationing would be required, but the people would not starve.
"Wake up Your Majesty! You must come quickly!" Arvedui and his wife were woken from their sleep by the frantic and desperate servants.
The servants led them to the balcony where Arvedui was horrified to see green flames consuming the harbour of Annúminas, burning the fleet that had been defending the city.
In the distance, a large fleet of undoubtedly Arnorian ships lurked. Though it was dark, Arvedui could still make out the banners on their sails, illuminated as they were by the wildfire they had launched at the city's harbour.
A grey castle, on a field of black. He recognized that banner, that could only mean one thing.
"It's the Iron Fleet. Angrenost has turned its cloak to Argeleb," Firiel said, speaking aloud all of their thoughts.
Arvedui would not get much more sleep that night, or any of the nights to follow for that matter.
The Iron Fleet remained in the bay, blockading the city and starving it. On the other side, Argeleb's army remained outside the walls, their raids having failed to truly affect his construction of siege towers and battering rams. Arvedui knew that it would not be long before the assault began.
Though they had successfully extinguished the fires at the docks, morale was at an all-time low in the city. Food reserves were still plentiful, but even with the rationing, they were swiftly being depleted. They would not last longer and when they ran out, well… he would have other things other than the army at his gates to worry about.
Matters had not been helped when a raven had come from Aranarth, bringing grave news.
Forgive me. I have failed to convince Prince Earendil. I will stay longer to try and plead with him, but be prepared for as of now, no help rides from Dol Amroth.
Aranarth.
Things deteriorated more and more until finally, a week after the docks had burned, a herald had come to the Great Gates of Annúminas, proclaiming loudly for all to hear that if Arvedui surrendered, the city would be spared the devastation of a siege. The self-declared King Argeleb III would show mercy to them, for he only wanted Arvedui and his family. But Argeleb could not guarantee the safety of the city or its inhabitants if they remained defiant and made him take it by force.
"You have until sunset to make your decision," the herald had proclaimed, leaving the city troubled and concerned.
Arvedui had despaired then, thinking to surrender and save his people from suffering the battle. He knew Argeleb, he was a man of honour, if he surrendered now he would keep his word. He knew not what would happen to him or his family, but that was the price they paid as royalty was it not? Was it not their duty to give up their lives for their people?
It was not an easy decision to make, but Arvedui had long ago sworn to dedicate his heart and life for his people. He would not make them die for him needlessly. But his son had no intentions of letting him surrender without trying to convince him first.
"You cannot surrender Father," Anducar said. They were alone in his solar. Arvedui had not told anyone of his plans to surrender but somehow he was not surprised that Anducar knew.
He had always been a perceptive boy, too precocious and knowledgeable for his own good. When he was a child he had scared his maids by warning them of the perils they would face if they did not do certain things. Without fail, those who had refused to heed his words had all suffered in various ways.
They had later learned that he was perhaps the most powerful seer to have ever been born in Arnor. His mixed heritage had combined and strengthened the Númenórean gifts of telepathy and foresight, and the First Men gifts of skinchanging and greensight in a single person. He knew so much, that few outside his family called him Anducar, with most knowing him by the name 'Palantir', meaning 'Farsighted'.
"What am I to do then, Anducar? Argeleb's armies are at the gates, he has promised to spare the city if I surrender. I may soon find that the decision is no longer mine to make."
"If you surrender," Anducar said, taking a step forward, "then you, Mother, and I, will all die. Your cousin is no longer the man he once was and will not hesitate to slaughter us all. Aranarth will never accept it but without the capital, he will not have the legitimacy to win. Yet neither will the Purists be able to win against the host of Loyalists that Aranarth will raise in vengeance. Arnor will be sundered forever more."
His words were an omen of doom but Arvedui had already made his decision.
"Be that as it may, I cannot force our people to give their lives so that we may live. I swore an oath when I became King, Anducar. I intend to honour it. The King serves his people, and if need be, he will give his life for them," he said with a grim face, knowing that he was condemning himself, his wife, and his son to all die.
But Anducar refused to give up. "You cannot surrender Father," he said, still steadfast and sure.
Arvedui grew wroth then, "Then what do you expect me to do? Dol Amroth refuses to help! Your grandfather's army is still weeks away! We have no relief, no reinforcements coming! The people will starve soon and Argeleb has offered them a way out! How am I to force them to die for us!?"
"The decision was never yours to make Father," Anducar said calmly.
"Wh..what?" Arvedui asked, not understanding.
"Arvedui you shall call him, for he will be the last in Arnor. Yet a choice will come to the Dúnedain and if they choose the one that seems less hopeful, than your son will change his name and Arnor be reborn anew. If not, then much sorrow and strife will come for the Land of the King shall be sundered."
Arvedui stopped then, looking at his son in shock as he heard that prophecy. It had haunted his dreams, haunted his life from the very moment he had heard it from his father when he was but a boy of five and ten.
"This… this is the choice?" Arvedui asked, his voice almost breaking.
"It is. There is no doubt in my mind. If they choose rightly, we can win this war and rebuild Arnor."
"And if they don't?"
"Then Arnor will be divided until the end of time."
Arvedui slumped back into his chair.
"Leave me."
Anducar obeyed.
At sunset, the herald had come to the gates again to hear their answer and this time Arvedui was there, standing atop the gatehouse.
Behind him a great crowd had gathered, not only soldiers but people as well. Men, women, and children, these were the people of the Tower of the West, of the great city of Annúminas. His people. And it was into their hands now that he placed his life, and that of his wife and son.
With a loud voice he spoke, his kingly aura commanding all to listen.
"People of Annúminas, I am Arvedui, son of Araphant. I was blessed to be born to one day be your king. Yet I was taught that a king should not expect his people to give their lives for him if he would not do the same.
Should you will it, I will order the soldiers to open the gates to our foe and surrender.
But would any of you feel right, knowing that you had lived only because you had allowed your King, allowed your Queen and your Prince to give their lives so that you might live?
Would you feel just and righteous, knowing that you had stood by and allowed this usurper to march in and trample upon everything that we hold sacred?"
Arvedui took a deep breath, well aware it could soon be one of his last, "My people, will you go gently into the night?"
The people remained silent. Arvedui could feel it, he had not convinced them. He could not blame them. Who would choose their king over the lives of their families?
He bowed his head low in shame and despair.
Forgive me, Firiel, Anducar. I've failed you.
Yet Arvedui was stunned to hear the words of the crowd then.
"Arvedui! We will have no man but Arvedui as our King! Long Live King Arvedui!" one zealous and loyal man cried out.
But he was not alone, for soon many others began joining his cry.
"Arvedui! Arvedui!" they chanted.
The man in question almost sighed in relief. The people had made their choice. Though it was the choice less hopeful, though they knew they had likely chosen death for themselves and their loved ones, they had chosen him over Argeleb.
It was at that moment that he swore once again, to be the best and greatest king his people could ever ask for, to repay them for this great debt.
Arvedui turned back to the herald, "Do you not hear the cries of the people? They have made known their choice. Go back to your master and tell him that the people of Annúminas reject him and all that he desires."
The herald scowled. "Pray that you will not regret this," he said, before turning his horse around and spurring it into a gallop back to the camp of the besiegers.
Yet Argeleb would not let them avoid the consequences of their choice. As the sun dipped below the horizon to the west, the host of Argeleb descended upon the city from the east.
With a great volley, the siege engines of the enemy began hurling great big balls of fire and rock, which came crashing down upon the Jewel of the West.
The people screamed, and they fled for cover, but they remained steadfast to their choice. They would not back down now.
Slowly but surely, the besiegers pushed their great siege towers and battering rams to the walls of the city that had never fallen.
The defenders bled them for every inch. With every step, volley after volley of arrows and boulders came down upon the enemy, falling upon them like rain from the heavens, smiting them where they stood.
Yet for every man they slew, another waited to take his place, and soon the enemy had reached the walls.
All night long, the defenders fought with their foe atop the outer walls of Annúminas even as the Great Gates of Annúminas, forged from mithril and steel and long thought unbreakable, were battered by a great and mighty ram
Yet nothing is truly unbreakable, and when the rays of the sun had begun rising over the horizon in the east, the Great Gates broke before the army of Argeleb.
Arvedui stood at the gates, his army behind him. They were soldiers of Arnor, no matter what came through that gate, they would stand their ground.
Yet before the army of Argeleb could charge in and take the city, a great horn sounded in the hills to the north.
Unlooked for and unhoped for, a great host of shining steel-clad warriors, charged down upon the enemy, bearing the heraldry of a white swan upon a field of silver and blue. The Swan Knights of Dol Amroth had come.
Author's Note: The people of Annúminas are far more loyal than the smallfolk of King's Landing for sure.
