The Elder Council had gathered once more, this time with grave news from Lossarnach and Pelargir. Raiding parties of Orcs and Haradrim had been spotted more frequently in the south, several farms had been plundered and fields desecrated. Yet despite the council's urgings, Denethor remained unmoved, wearing a staunch expression of detachment.
Two of the members urged for retaliation or permanent stations of armed soldiers within the rural villages, the others made notions of opening the White City to whoever wished to seek refuge from the danger. When the Steward said nothing once more, Aeardis finally broke and stood. "Orcs are raiding the villages of Gondor! People are dying!" The eldest of the council's members flinched at the sudden outpouring of emotion from the young advisor and her sharp tone. "My father is dead because you have neglected the southern borders of the realm!"
None had taken notice, but Boromir had entered the Great Hall. He had only come to speak with his father, yet it put a sour taste in his mouth to see the harsh look that Denethor was giving Aeardis. It looked as if he were only seconds away from calling for her execution when the Steward-Prince came forward. That seemed enough to dismiss the elders and Aeardis.
Mallyn and Braganil were waiting in the courtyard with their own mounts when Aeardis exited the Great Hall with a red face that stemmed from both anger and sadness. The guards, however, greeted her with the utmost respect for her position and offered words of consolation. Her silver mare had been saddled and brought to the Fountain Court. She was leading a riding party to meet those that were traveling from Rohan and escort them to the city, now she was grateful for the freedom such a task would provide.
The open land in front of the white city was filled with lush grasses and wildflowers, to the eat sat neat rows of wheat, maize, barley, and an assortment of other goods that often found their way onto her dinner plate. Sentries posted on the ramparts of the Rammas Echor opened the gate along the northern wall to allow them passage into Anárion.
A group of five riders could be seen emerging on the open plains in the distance. Above them was a flag boring the sigil of Rohan in green and gold. Mallyn raised a white flag embroidered with the White Tree. The two parties converged on a hill to the north of Minas Tirith past the great wall, on which one could overlook the mountain fortress and the grasslands of Pelennor and even to the darkness of Mordor.
"Hail Prince Théodred, Éomer," Aeardis greeted as the Riddermark riders pulled the reins of their horses to a stop. Théodred and his cousin were much alike in looks and manner, though the Prince was elder and broader and unlike his cousin, wore a large grin as he looked upon her fair face for the first time since they had grown into adulthood.
"Lady Aeardis," Théodred addressed, a somber look now falling over him and his group of riders. "The news of your loss traveled to us and we have nothing to offer but our condolences." Aeardis lowered her head and felt a bitter smile growing on her lips. She missed her father, her friend, and mentor, but she knew he would not have her dwell on his passing. "Théoden King always spoke highly of him," Éomer supplemented.
"And my father spoke the praises of Théoden as well," she smiled. Those had been her favorite stories when she was a child, hearing of Théoden and a man named Thorongil, and Ecthelion too. Aeardis snapped out of her daze when she remembered her courtesies and duties. "Come, let us not tarry. You all must be famished."
With tired horses and riders, it was a nearly two-hour ride back through Rammas Echor and across Pelennor. The wood and iron gates of the White City opened, next to Aeardis rode both Éomer and Théodred. Those that had been in the streets and markets paused at seeing the sigil of Rohan. Communication between the two realms had been scarce as of late and some feared that the alliance that existed between the peoples would be broken.
She wished to have shown them every nook and cranny of the great city, but there was not time. The group of riders followed her through the streets, hurriedly passing through each of the levels until reaching the Fountain Court at the helm of the Citadel. "Boromir!" Théodred exclaimed, slipping off his saddle in haste. She turned toward him and smiled, "My friend, how do you fair?"
"Well, and you Théodred?" The two clasped arms in greeting.
"As well as one may be in these troubling times."
"Were your travels well?" The Steward-Prince inquired as Aeardis came to join them.
The Mark Prince nodded with a smile, "Indeed, though being received by the lovely Aeardis is enough to make even the poorest of journeys worthwhile." She felt heat rising to her cheeks at the flattery, Boromir found his gaze lingering on her now, even as she had turned her gaze downward. "But I need not tell you that, my friend," Théodred added in a low voice.
"I must speak with some of the men but I will see you all at the feast. For now, I leave you in the care of Aeardis." As Boromir walked past her, his hand brushed against her and she wondered if the way her heart jumped was normal. Éomer had turned his gaze to the White Tree, and for a brief moment she and the Rohirrim guests gazed up at its dead branches that had not seen a flower since the last king's death.
"We've had rooms readied and the stables prepared to take care of these fine beasts," Aeardis ran her fingers down the neck of the brown steed that Théodred had named Brego, as the stable hands came to retrieve the horses from both parties. She led them all past the King's House and Mead Hall into the depths of Mindolluin where many of the elders and nobles had their quarters.
The hall was secluded and rarely used with two grand chambers and several others that would have been comparable to her own. "Your chambers are in this hall, I hope you'll find everything to your liking and rest before tonight's feast." Éomer and Théodred both gave her their thanks as she turned to retreat back to her own quarters.
Still at unease from the morning's happenings, Aeardis asked for Nimmien's company for the afternoon. The young chambermaid had become a confidant for things she preferred not share with Faramir or Boromir. They spoke whilst she tended to Aeardis's hair. She would wear it braided tonight, with sprigs of rosemary and wildflowers woven through the dark waves.
"Milord! Lady Aeardis is not presentable!" Her chambermaid was in a near panic when Boromir did not heed her initial requests to wait until her lady was proper for company. Aeardis laughed, "It's quite alright, Nimmien, everything is covered." The young maid blushed and excused herself as the Steward-Prince moved from the solar to her bedchambers.
"I only came to thank you for the work and preparations that have gone into this next week," he paused and pursed his lips for a second, "I fear you'll hear little thanks from father after today." She knew that. In fact, she wondered if it was even worth attending the feast after exchanging such harsh words with the Steward.
Despite the soured mood that had overtaken her, Aeardis smiled, "Are you sure you didn't come in hopes of catching me in only a shift?"
Boromir chuckled and took a step toward her. He reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she hoped he would not question her about the odd pointed nature of them. "Had I wished for that then I would have come to you tonight." Aeardis opened her mouth to speak but the witty remark that had been on the tip of her tongue was gone.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
"You're my advisor," Denethor spat after the Elder Council had been dismissed, he had not been fond of their ideas nor was he still over Aeardis's sharp words from the prior meeting, "advise me."
Aeardis measured her words carefully, "Focus on keeping Minas Tirith strong. The wall is in dire need of repairs in some portions. When this city is secure, and only then, would it be wise to try to reclaim Osgiliath, but only if Pelargir has not been taken by the enemy and our villages have had time to move within these walls." It was the same advice that her father would have given. It was the same advice Clorben and Blagden had offered at the last meeting as well. Gondor's people needed protection before a ruined city was put in focus.
Denethor huffed, turning his cold gaze to her, "What do you want? Why stay here now?"
Aeardis thought of Faramir and Boromir, of the children, and all the people she had come to know while in Minas Tirith. She loved Gondor as she had Tol Eressëa. "I've lived in this city longer than I lived on Tol Eressëa," she noted, she was five-and-twenty now and had arrived on the shores of Middle Earth when she was seven. "This is my home now. I do not wish to be parted from the White City and her people."
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Their game of chess had not yet been finished but was over for the night as Boromir brought up that a date had been set for his next deployment. Aeardis had no tactical strategy this time, no advantage over the enemy that could be used to end the battle quicker or prevent it altogether.
She opened her mouth to speak, and then thought better of it, brooding on the topic for a moment instead. She hated the war this country had been part of since Mordor's awakening. She had seen too many of Gondor's sons fall to the enemy. But Mordor would answer no pleas, take no survivors. Mordor would not offer peace, so there would be no peace.
She knew that as well as anyone else, perhaps even better than anyone else. She knew it when she saw all the injured soldiers or all of the poor souls that went to the grave protecting the city they loved. "I suppose, in the end, you are right," Aeardis conceded with a shrug, glancing down at her hands.
Boromir admired her persistence in always trying to reduce injury and death on Gondor's behalf, but sometimes there was nothing that could be done. "Words are always preferable," he began, "but when heads are at a loss, bodies must serve."