A/N: Welcome to Part IV, the second last part of this fic. I originally intended this fic to be only four parts, but the chapter ran long, so I have split it into two smaller parts that I will post near-simultaneously.
Thank you especially for your kind reviews. I realise that for a couple of you my use of present tense was a bit of a bother - sorry about that, but you are correct in thinking that it's a personal preference of mine. For me, it lends immediacy. I definitely understand why for a Middle Earth story, however, folk would rather it be in past tense. I hope you'll still enjoy the rest of this story! Without further ado, read on…
"I maintain that this was a poor decision on your part," Legolas chides, as their horses clop steadily through Osgiliath. The morning is fair, with the light and the wind still chilled from the early hour.
Eldarion just hums quietly and does not respond to the elf, not deigning to think that he has already made a poor decision within his first days as King, even if it a personal one. Away from the city, he feels more free, more alive, and more aware of what he and his world are now - now, disregarding before.
He is wearing his proper crown, and it feels heavy and unpleasant, as if it might slip down over his eyes, or slip off from the back if he should look to the sky - but it is the crown of the king. He carries Andúril strapped to his saddle - a symbol, an heirloom, and nothing more. Just like the crown. Just like the name.
He tries to clear the dark clouds of thought from his mind. He came on this journey to not think about the weight he now bore on his shoulders, to not think about the fear and the weariness of grief, to not think about the warm, rough hands that had once held this beautiful sword bumping against his leg, that had used it to crush darkness itself, hands that now lay cold and still, folded over one another in a dark sarcophagus lying silent in the Hallows -
"You could have invited her," Legolas continues, sounding somewhat miffed. "Out of courtesy's sake if nothing else."
"I could have but I didn't," he says shortly. "This journey is for me. And with my return to the White city I will no longer be able to think of 'me', so I do it now. Besides, the answer would have been no," he reminds his friend.
Legolas simply sighs, and Eldarion tries not to let it exarcebate the tiny voice clinging to the back of his mind and whispering guilt in his ears.
The decision may not have been a kind one, but he is tired of being tired, of grieving and of laying his head on tear-stained pillows, dreaming dreams to try and wake both the dead that lie still and the dead that walk in the guise of the living. The thought sits cold and hardened in his heart.
His mother had been in their halls in the morning, slowly and laboriously eating a single tangerine that her lady's maid had convinced her to consume. He'd told her he was going to Ithilien with Legolas for a few days. She had frozen - looking panicked for a second - but the look had passed before he could question it.
"Come back soon," she had simply whispered, and returned to nibbling on her tangerine.
He intends to do just as much, of course. Go to Ithilien for just a few sunrises, relax in the forests, practice his Elvish - of which few in Minas Tirith spoke now, save for his parents. Save for naneth only, he reminds himself.
Barahir - his steward, and Prince of Ithilien - would not yet return to the realm he presided over, not until Eldarion's place on the throne was fully settled and the first week of mourning was over. However, he had seemed relieved that the new King was going away for a little while. "It will do your soul good," he had said. "We all need you whole and hale, for what comes next."
For what comes next. What in Erú's name comes next?
Once they have passed through the city, the horses break into a canter, and within a half hour, they are at the borders of Ithilien. The two elves manning the road bow low in respect to the King; with practised timing and a confident nod, he bids them rise. At least he is fluent in the motions, if not the mind, of a King.
"Gi suilon Aran Eldarion; hîr nîn Legolas," greets the red-headed guard, nodding to each lord in turn.
"Suilad, Malgelir," Legolas greets, with a wide smile. Eldarion can feel it too - an infectious sense of liberation and joy that floats out towards them from the fragrant forests.
"I assume these borders have been quiet, Thalion?" the elven prince asks lightly, addressing the dark-haired guard.
"Very much so, my lord," replies Thalion. "Although we received word in the night, of some trouble on the eastern border."
A shadows descends quick and dark over Legolas' face. "The eastern border?"
"We were also not expecting such a report, my lord," admits Malgelir. Eldarion, too, is mildly surprised. He had known of scuffles springing up in the South and sometimes the North, long ago when he was but a few years old, at a time when they were still subduing the Easterlings and the Haradrim. But those wars were long since fought.
"What kind of trouble?" Legolas demands.
"A boy," begins Thalion, "from Minas Tirith, came running back towards the flets in the central part of the forest. It was during the last minutes of dusk - he'd wandered very far from the encampments during the day. It took a long time to comfort him until he was able to speak. He spoke of some shadow creature that attempted to harm him."
Eldarion's interest piques immensely. "From Minas Tirith? What was he doing here, at a a time such as this?"
"He came into the forest yesterday afternoon," he responds, "intending to reside here for a few days at the most. He seemed to be trying to escape the grief of the city - though I suspect it is because he's too young to understand it," Thalion adds hastily.
There's no need to clarify - Eldarion understands well enough the boy's desire to flee sorrow; and he also understands, though with reticence, that the youth of Gondor, growing up in his father's peace, could hardly be forced to understand gratitude for such a nebulous idea as an old war hero.
"They would have had to pass over the Ephel Dúath," Legolas muses, "if our guards on the other borders did not catch them."
Malgelir hesitates, and then speaks. "My liege, it was not a troop or even a raiding party - the boy says there was just the one."
"He saw it?" Eldarion asks.
Malgelir gives a short nod.
"And what exactly did he say he saw?"
"He does not know, my king."
Eldarion exchanges a glance with Legolas. This may or may not be a test - either way, it will not go unheeded. He nods to the two guards. "Please take us to meet him."
"It was a shadow, my lord," the boy mumbles. "A living, breathing shadow."
He crouches, hunched and timid, on furs and under blankets, a golden drink in his hand curling steam in the cool air.
Eldarion sits upon a stool some feet in front of the boy, contemplating. He glances over to Legolas, conversing with his kinsmen on the other end of the flet, and then back to the boy. He had been introduced as Hallas by the elves here in the centre of the forest, who had been looking after him.
"And it attacked you without warning?" he asks.
The boy shakes his head. "It…it spoke to me first, my lord," he says. "Asked me things…said - said horrible things about the kingdom." He looks to the ground then, refusing to meet Eldarion's eyes his lips pressed thin and chin trembling ceaselessly.
"What made it want to hurt you?
"I…I did not do what it wanted me to do," he whispers. "It wanted me to bring its bitter words back to Minas Tirith. To get the other boys to come and speak to it. I didn't know. I didn't know until he said it," he adds hastily.
Whether it comes from the boy or the shadow, the truth of proposed treason sinks like a heavy stone in Eldarion's gut. For a moment, he forgets the cold grip of weariness that remains, lurking on his shoulders; and he understands the threat as only a king would.
"Whatever it is wants to corrupt the kingdom," he tells Hallas. "It would be a fate wore than death."
The boy nods once, and does not lift his eyes from his boots. Eldarion can tell that this is as much as he will learn.
He rises, to see Legolas approaching him. His eyes are clouded with worry and thought, his brows furrowed.
When he is comes side by side, he speaks low, such that only Eldarion can hear. "The scouts found a body at the location the boy described - one of the new recruits to the march-wardens," he says. "He'd been dead for about a day. They went in to retrieve him, but say there was oppressive presence in the clearing, especially in a cave on its edge."
Eldarion feels a pang of pity and sadness; one of Legolas' subjects, dead on this land. It had been three generations since Elessar's first steward, Faramir, had opened the forests to Legolas and his people to heal and nurture and dwell. Three generations of peace and healing, ruptured.
"What was the cause of death?"
Legolas shakes his head. "They do not know. His skin was blackened around the neck, and there were leaves and mud clogging his throat."
"Leaves and mud?" Eldarion frowns, his mouth twisting down into a perturbed grimace.
Legolas shrugs. "Suffocation, though I don't know why they attempted it in such a way."
Eldarion ponders for a moment. "Did your men go in to inspect the cave, and the rest of the clearing?"
"They set up a guard around it, but are waiting for my instruction," Legolas admits. "It is too close to the Mountains of Shadow, and all of us here have lived long enough to remember when evil lived actively on the other side of them. It makes them reticent to press on."
An unwanted shiver steals up Eldarion's spine. "Whether or not this 'shadow' creature was real or perceived, we ought to investigate," Hallas murmurs. "There was a death in Ithilen when there shouldn't have been. We need to learn the cause."
"Agreed," Legolas nods. "Will you stay here?"
But Eldarion is already rising. "Let me strap my sword to my belt - then we shall depart."
A/N: I do feel that I may have lost the plot a bit with Eldarion's character in the first part of this chapter; but I think it came back to me by the end, and definitely by the second half (Part V). It should be up within the next half hour.
Thank you for reading - one more to go!
