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The Dark Tree

Chapter: 03

Palo Tufs could honestly say that life was not turning out the way he thought it would. Having 'left' his burrow in Hobbiton before his coming of age to see the world, he had expected to have seen and done a great deal more than what he ended up doing.

His friends back in the lands of the Shire always said that he had grown up a bit odd, always listening to the stories about the Mad Baggins who left presents before disappearing in a puff of smoke and reading maps and keeping an ear out for whatever tales passed from the lips of strangers. He often admired the sword that hung on his grandfather's wall, a relic of a previous age where everything was said to be greater; a strange blade, damasked in flowing forms of red and gold, sheathed in black. A Trolls Bane, he remembered it being called. His mother, old Obo, hated it, blaming it for putting all the queer thoughts in her wayward son's head, but his father, Banda though ambivalent, kept it hanging on the wall out of tradition, as it had been there for ages until, finally, in a fit of rage, she tried to get rid of it by essentially 'throwing it in the trash', thinking no one would notice.

At least until Pendo took it for his own and ran off into the wild, finally no longer willing to wait any longer.

He wanted to see the great mountains! See a dragon, slay a troll or some goblins… Tramp the old, forbidden paths of the world and find hidden treasures…

None of those things happened however. Goblins and trolls were long gone from the world; dragons hadn't crept out of any ancient holes or hoards in ages, and all the forbidden paths of the world had become a sight less forbidden. The world, it seemed, had turned grey.

Even the White Tower seems grey, he thought, padding through the corridors in preparation for his duties to the king – the great King Orcur, the Superior Sun that destroyed enemies and the burning light of the Tree. In one hand, he held a letter that had been delivered from messenger birds. News of the war in Rohan, he supposed, or perhaps from Calebar. Both were ever on the king's mind.

Palo hoped that the news was that of the good, for the good king had been in dark temperament of late. The rebellion of the Rohirrim especially weighed heavily upon his shoulders.

Passing by the Court of the Fountain, Palo paused to glance at the tree that lay within. Black was its bark, and long, spidery branches spread out in all directions, casting a deep shadow over the white stones of the court. Here and there, pink flowers blossomed, and a petal fell gracefully to the water of the fount. Palo stood there for a moment longer, transfixed by the scene, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword, until a voice called out to him from afar.

"Does the Guard of the Citadel hesitate in his duties by losing himself in daydreams? I wasn't aware that such lofty heights were given greater precedence than one's oath to the king."

Jumping, Palo turned to see a weathered man wearing a red robe and a kindly smile approaching him, hands clasped together. Blushing profusely, Palo bowed politely, recognizing him as one of the king's many advisers.

"Forgive me Lord Annae," he apologized. "I am still overwhelmed from being chosen to act as one of the fingers on the king's hand."

"As you are newly arrived to the guard, there is much to forgive," Annae chuckled warmly, clasping a companionable hand around the hobbit's shoulder and drawing him away from the court and the tree. "However, duties remain pressing, and it is not wise to keep the king waiting for long. You have been entrusted with a great duty after all, and are more than just one of his fingers. You are an ear and an eye where such things are needed. Come, let us be gone and return to the king so that he might hear the news you bring."

Palo nodded, swallowing somewhat anxiously. However, despite resuming his course, he cast one last glance at the tree and its spindly, almost thorn-like appearance before blotting it out of his mind.

Not for the first time did Palo feel that he was out of place being assigned to the city guard. A good wrestler he had been back in Hobbiton, but only against opponents who stood at his height, and even though he was being trained in the way of the sword, his reach against opponents both taller and with longer steel left much to be desired. He was better suited fighting dwarves, orcs and children, but he would not draw against a child, and of orcs there were none to be had. Dwarves were no enemies either, though Khazad-dûm's doors were closed to the world now and admitted no one; closed for what was believed to be the final time.

I stand out too much, he mused. Perhaps I should have stayed in Bree. I am recognized too readily to be of any use as the eyes and ears of the king, even if I help 'grow the spirits' of the people.

He sighed mentally. The only thing of note that he had – that the king felt made him worthy of joining his service and gave him the ability to mingle – was his ability to sing and tell stories. The people loved him a great deal for that, but his livery – the white beneath the black tree that was the symbol of the tower guard – often left people guarded around him.

"Does something trouble you, Palo?" Annae asked, noting the halfling's tense silence. Even for a hobbit, who were known for being quiet when they desired to be, Palo's was a touch unsettling.

"I was just thinking that I should have been a court jester,"he said aloud, thumbing his uniform. "But I guess that's not very…respectable for the king."

"Kings have a mind of steel and maps," Annae nodded. "And Orcur more so than others. Luel and all the kingdoms of the lands Beneath Heaven…" His face twisted slightly as he spoke of that place far beyond Middle-Earth's boundaries from which rose the Luel kingdom. "…push against Gondor's borders. The Rohirrim's revolt could not have come at a worse time. Still, let us hope that we will be able to assuage them so that we may unite against the common foe."

Annae sighed, his eyes becoming distant and dispirited. "Not since the Third Age has Gondor been so beset with enemies, and not since the days of Isildur have we suffered a betrayal so bitter."

"I still don't understand why the Rohirrim have betrayed the king," Palo said as they rounded a corner and began to ascend the stairs to the Tower of Ecthelion. "What possible reason could they have to do so?"

Annae smiled grimly at the hobbit and patted his shoulder companionably.

"There is much going on with Luel and the west than you know, sir Tufs. Perhaps today shall illuminate you."

They entered the king's court within short order, and Palo saw the king sitting upon his throne. King Orcur, the sun of the kingdom, was fair of skin and had a strong, almost proud jaw that matched his powerful frame. His eyes were deep and full of thought of the world and all that dwelt within it, and a main of dark hair cascaded down to his shoulders. He was, for all intents and purposes, almost the spitting image of King Elessar, save for his larger appearance and darker hair, and although the blood of Numenor was much diluted and would never be as great as it had been with Elessar when Gondor reunited the land, it had been strengthened.

Strengthened, it was said, but it was doubtful if it had been for the better, as the union that birthed him had been of similar vein as that with the long-ago Queen Berúthiel of the Black Numenorians – a loveless affair made during war. Still, it was said that Orcur was a fair ruler, and naught else could be said to be objectionable, save for one half of his bloodline, who had long since been exiled.

Palo strode forth as the king sat at his table, eating his dinner, and presented him with the letter. Taking it, Orcur broke the seal and read its contents, his expression grim.

"What news, my lord?" Annae asked, coming abreast to the young hobbit, folding his arms behind his back.

"None that is of the good," Orcur replied, setting the letter down. "The Rohirrim have retaken the Eastfold through a flanking maneuver and even now are pursuing our forces toward the Gap of Rohan."

"The narrowness there should be able to even out the battle, should it not?" Annae asked. "They cannot use their cavalry as readily as they would out in the more open plains."

"No, but it is unlikely that they will follow further into the gap. The horse lords are no fools and they are content with keeping the land of their home, not conquering an empire like the Luel. It is why they have maintained their rebellion for so long. We have not the means to face them on equal ground." Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he stood up, darkness crossing his features.

"Cursed Luinír. We should never have allowed them to open temples amongst the Rohirrim…"

"They aided with the plague," Annae pointed out, drawing his hands to his front and folding them together.

"I am not a child who is unlearned in my lore, Wind Lord!" Orcur replied angrily before a look of guilt and distaste crushed his face. Mastering himself, he turned toward the two and took a deep breath.

"I apologize," he said. "The counts of defeat continue to pile on my mind. I had thought that when we captured Snowbourn that victory was within our grasp. Edoras was within arm's reach! If not for the woman…"

Sighing heavily, he took up the letter and considered its contents again.

"Well… What's done is done. I must convene with my captains on how to settle this matter." Turning to Palos, he smiled warmly, though his lips didn't touch his eyes.

"Thank you, young master, for your continued service. I will call upon you later for tale and song."

"As you please, my lord," Palo replied, bowing once more.

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