A map of Middle Earth was splayed out upon one of the tables in the Great Hall, next to it was a more intricate rendering of Gondor and the surrounding lands. Small pawns were scattered along the edge of the map, white stone for Gondor and black stone for the enemy, each one represented more than a hundred men.
Hushed mummers spread through the gathered officials as the small group of scouting rangers entered the Great Hall with the latest news of the enemy's advancement. The ranger, Madril, placed the black pawns within the borders of Haradwaith.
Aeardis listened closely to the reported size and location of the army as she paced around the table, taking note of how quickly they were marching and the weaponry they carried.
One of the captains present laid out his plan, a simple defensive line that had worked many times in the past to keep the Southron invaders at bay, yet every time it came with a great cost to the Gondorian army. Ohtar moved the white pawns to the border of Gondor, most along the river Anduin.
"What do you think of this, Aeardis?" It was her first time devising a strategy for a situation such as this, most of her efforts were concentrated around Ithilien and Osgiliath, never had she thought through a plan that would take lives that were not Orcs and other foul creatures.
She pursed her lips for a moment and braced her hands on the table, glancing up at some of the soldiers, her father, and Boromir. After a moment she nodded, though it was not entirely convincing. "It would work," she answered, "yet the death toll would be greater than I care to think of." Aeardis stepped back and paced around the table, contemplating the best line of defense.
The Haradrim could not be allowed to cross into Lossarnach during this time of year else they would lay waste to the farmland and crops and come the winter Minas Tirith and its surrounding lands would be deep into a famine. "We should try to cut off their army before they can reach South Ithilien," she finally spoke and the council hung off her every word. "Divide them. It will minimize the loss on our part and shorten the battle."
Hirluin straightened his back and looked down a hooked nose that had been broken one too many times at Aeardis, she was only a girl of twenty, after all, still a virgin to witnessing the horrors of battle. "How do you suppose we do that?" The captain inquired with no small amount of contempt.
"The Fords of Poros," she answered, moving only a handful of the Gondorian pawns to the ford near the mountains of Ephel Dúath. "We can temporarily dam the river and open the floodgates while they are crossing." The river was not nearly on the scale of the Anduin, oft times after the winter melt it would dam itself with sediment washing down from the mountains.
"How long would it take to do this?" Aeardis thought it had been her father that had asked, but she could not be sure. It had been years since she had even caught a brief glimpse of the Fords upon her passage into the Gondor.
Madril shrugged, as one of the senior rangers he knew best the lay of the land, "With enough men, we can do it in five days, perhaps four." Another range, whom she could not recall his name, spoke as an echo to Madril, "Their army is still a weeks' march away from our southernmost border."
Aeardis turned her gaze back to the war table and the pawns, "Captain Hirluin? Lord Boromir? Can it be done?"
Boromir stood back from the table with his arms crossed, mulling over what had been discussed and the new plan that had been laid out before him. If it could save even one more of his countrymen from dying in a fruitless and predictable manner, then it was worth trying. He nodded and soon after the captain did as well, it would not have been right for him to disagree with Denethor's son on such matters. "Aye, it can and it will be done."
The table was cleared of the maps, the small pawns carefully packed away. She found herself deep in conversation with Boromir and Madril, it seemed as if the two of them were especially fond of her plan and though she had not gone through the specifics yet she took the ranger's advice and melded it with Boromir's suggestions on the logistics of brigade movement.
"Aeardis?" Ohtar interrupted the three, though not unkindly, as their conversation had come to closing remarks.
She turned, smiling, "Yes, papa?" For a moment he had forgotten what he had meant to say, it had been near a decade since there had been so much fire and passion that burned within sea green eyes. Somehow she had managed to find joy in political and militaristic matters.
"Would you walk with an old man?" He asked. His daughter laughed and took hold of his arm in an endearing manner as she turned away from both Madril and Boromir. "You're not old, papa," she said in a voice that was almost scolding.
"I feel it," he refuted, offering Aeardis the crook of his arm in a proper manner. Posted sentries opened the heavy wooden doors of the Great Hall and once in the Fountain Court he spoke again, "You were with Boromir last night?" Ohtar questioned yet it was already common knowledge that she and Steward-Prince spent a copious amount of time together. She nodded, finding that it was likely her father already knew the answer. "Yours and his absence were duly noted at the feast."
"He was too stubborn to go to the healers," Aeardis countered, rarely a day went by where she did not curse Boromir's bullheadedness, it was like to get him killed one day.
Ohtar chuckled, reminded of his daughter's stubbornness. He would hate to see what Gondor would come to if she remained as the advisor when Boromir ascended to take his father's position. "And you can treat all his ailments?" He asked in a bemused manner.
Aeardis made an exasperated noise caught between a sigh and laughter, "I've read almost every book and scroll the library has on healing, I think I can manage his nicks and scrapes."
Her father smiled as they passed through the gates to the fifth level of the city, "Of course, it runs in your blood too." Aeardis often forgot that her mother was a healer, they did not speak of Ioreth often. She was but a fading memory, yet her memory could never fully fade when Aeardis was the spitting image of her mother. They had the same warm chestnut hair, sea-green eyes, and the type of smile that could lighten spirits even in the darkest of times. Ohtar gripped his daughter's hand a little tighter, "I am proud of the woman that you are becoming."
"Ohtar Rirosdaerion?" Both she had her father turned at the sudden exclamation of his name. Atop a black stallion was Gandalf the Grey. "By my beard, she has grown." Aeardis found herself smiling up at the wizard. The last time she had seen him here within the White City was after Ecthelion's passing, he had come during the Yule celebrations bringing fireworks and tales of his wanderings of Middle Earth.
"What brings you to Minas Tirith?" Ohtar questioned and suddenly the wizard's face grew grim and shadowed.
"Only my own suspicions," Gandalf answered, his voice holding equal parts warning and hope.
"We'll speak later, nemir." Ohtar kissed his daughter's forehead and sent her back towards the Citadel, though in truth she followed in the shadows just so she could hear what could have brought Gandalf to Gondor in such a haste. The wizard spoke of a ring in the Shire, a magic ring no less, and of the return of the Dark Lord. With chilled blood and a heavy heart she picked up her skirts and made way back to her chambers, yet she found herself in no mood to concoct the specifics of her plan.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Aeardis had wandered to the promontory affront the White Tower, it stood high above the city and jutted out into the golden fields of Pelennor. A gentle wind stirred in the night and for a moment she imaged that she could feel the spray of the sea kissing her cheeks as the waves broke on the rocks below. "What ails your heart and mind?"
A sudden jolt of panic seized her but faded the moment she realized that it was Boromir who stood next to her. "I always fear that my plans and strategies will not work," she admitted in small, meek voice that did not suit the woman who had spoken of battle strategy prior in the day.
"They have yet to fail," Boromir replied with a certain amount of pride in his voice. Silence fell over the pair like the night that had fallen over the land. Beyond Osgiliath was the realm of Mordor, always awake with a minacious red glow on the horizon that could be seen even on the brightest days.
"On Tol Eressëa there was a promontory much like this one," Aeardis paused and looked up at Boromir, the stars above were reflected in his clear blue eyes. "Only it jutted out into the sea and you could feel the spray of the waves as they broke against the stone below," the words flowed easily off her tongue. Long had it been since she had seen her castle by the sea and the dense northern forests that surrounded it, yet she remembered clearly through dreams that were transcribed into poetry and paintings.
"Even with your descriptions I fear it is difficult to imagine such a place," Boromir said, quietly. He could have hardly imagined what Dol Amroth looked like let alone an island surrounded by the Great Sea. One day I'll take you back there, Aeardis, he silently vowed despite knowing what would be expected of him in the coming years.
"Below my home was a beach, the sand was black and on mornings after a storm, it would be littered with shells of all shapes and sizes. Those that could be helped I would always toss back into the sea," Aeardis looked up at Boromir, a selfish glint had appeared in her eyes, "others I kept until I had several trunks filled with them."
There were times when she wished that none of them could be saved so that she could keep the sand dollars, sea biscuits, and starfish to herself. Yet it was not in her nature, even from a young age, to let one that could be helped suffer.
One time she had found the most beautiful pearlescent shell that would make for a hair comb like no other, but another three feet up the beach was a small crab with a half cracked shell. Aeardis knew that it would die if it didn't find a new shell, yet as she looked at the one her hand and the way would look in her hair, she knelt and placed it next to the small creature, hoping that it could find its way.
Come the morning after the next storm on the beach was the same shell she had seen before and within it was the small hermit. All life is precious, her father had told her, even the smallest of things deserve a chance to thrive. "Did you bring any of these shells with you?"
Aeardis unfolded her arms and let them fall to her sides, the cool night air left a thin sheet of moisture on her skin. "No, in truth neither I nor my father expected to remain here for such a long time."
She spread her fingers when his hand brushed over hers and wordlessly Boromir linked their hands together. "I am glad you are here, Aeardis." From the corner of her eyes, she could see that his gaze was turned up to the night sky.
"As am I," she told him, but I can still hear the call of the sea.
Translation:
Nemir - Water Jewel