A/N: Next chapter up. Sorry this one is also a little bit short. Anyway enjoy and please review.
Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien and I do not own his work.
A Kingdom Crumbling
King Mavegil of Arthedain walked slowly from his council room, rubbing his tired eyes. Council had been, as usual, an exhausting ordeal. The lords of Cardolan and Rhuadur were always arguing, fighting over land, possession and power. But more than anything, it was the possession of the great watch tower of Amon Sul, which held the great palantir of Arnor.
He supposed it was inevitable, being on the border of the three regions of the kingdoms of Arnor. As Arthedain were already in possession of the other palantir in Annuminas, it was right that one of the other Dunedain tribes should be in possession of the other. But the arguments were becoming fierce and bitter, and Mavegil knew deep down that this was the beginning of the end of friendship between the three regions.
Mavegil looked out over the balcony of the keep of Fornost. He sighed. The real truth was that the kingdom of Arnor should never have been split into three. Arnor had once been whole and strong. What he saw now, was a kingdom crumbling.
It was a horrifying thought, but it was the truth. The worst thing for a king was to watch his kingdom crumble from within, not from cause of war, but from dissention among his own people. He didn't want Cardolan and Rhuadur as enemies or even just less than friendly neighbours. If the land was to come under attack, three small, weak, separate kingdoms would be much easier to overrun than one large strong one. But there was more to it than that. He needed Cardolan and Rhuadur simply for financial reasons. Their trade and economy was based on their relationship with each other. The destruction of this relationship, or even a fracture in it, could throw each of them into semi financial crisis. In any case, the bottom line was, they needed him and he needed them. But no matter how much he hinted this, the other leaders and nobles were unable to set aside their differences for the sake of their nation.
If Mavegil was honest with himself, he often was tempted to claim the entirety of Arnor for the Sceptre once again. But he knew that was not possible. The other lords of Cardolan and Rhuadur had become too comfortable with their power, and were unwilling to relinquish it. There would be an outcry if he even suggested it. The other two kingdoms would probably rise up in revolt against him. Separately of course, he thought ruefully.
Mavegil was old. He could feel it in his bones. Deep down, he knew he didn't have long to go. The fear of death had crept up on him often recently, but it was nothing compared to the fear of leaving the kingdom in its current state. His son, Argeleb, was ripe for kingship, and Mavegil hoped to the heavens that he would be able to bring the kingdoms of Arnor together before disaster struck, one way or another.
The King brushed these thoughts aside as a page approached. The young man looked as though he had been running. Mavegil frowned. Something told him that what he was about to hear was not good.
"Sire," gasped the man. "The scouting party has returned…"
The page was referring to the Arthedain Outriders. They were a party of light cavalry, charged with scouting the kingdom and detecting any threats. They made regular patrols of the boarders, and rarely visited Fornost unless when bearing urgent news.
"And?" enquired Mavegil. The pages eyes dropped and he produced a sack cloth containing a large bulky item.
"The horses returned sire… along with this."
The page lifted an object out of the bag and Mavegil resisted the urge to recoil.
It was a single, human head.
A/N: Well, what do you think? This chapter was filling in a gap a bit, but I wanted to give an idea about the state of the Kingdom of Arnor at this time. It really sets the stage for the northern wars. Anyway, hope you liked it. Please read and review!