Hello!
I am so sorry. I promise you guys I am trying to get back to my fanfics (and reading other people's too, I've really fallen behind in that!)! My mind has been so filled with life issues right now that my idea box for Fanfiction has been running low, especially when I have so many fics to update. But I have not forgotten them!
And this chapter was especially hard because I wanted to make it longer, but because I don't have all the details together yet, I'm going to leave you guys with an indicator on what should be in the next chapter or two!
I've missed you guys very much!
Aragorn anxiously waited in the throne room for his ambassadors to return. It had been weeks since he'd sent them out to find out what had become of Merlyn. "Fynn, you are relieved of your duty for a couple hours." He told the young boy. "Go and play with your friends or do something else you enjoy."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Fynn bowed. "My lord? If I may ask, is something wrong? You appear distressed. I can tell that something is wrong, especially with the Lady having to just leave."
"Do not worry about me, lad." Aragorn smiled. "My duties are quite pressing. It's not easy running a kingdom. Now run along please."
"Yes, my lord." Fynn sighed. He was honored to be the king of Gondor's valet, at such a young age, and he often fussed over and worried about Aragorn like a little mother hen. While Aragorn and Alasse adored the boy, they knew how important it was for him to enjoy his innocent childhood too, while it was still in his grasp.
Finn gave one last look at his king. "Go on, Fynn." Aragorn threw him a reassuring smile. Fynn bowed and disappeared from the throne room. Aragorn refused to sit on his throne, but paced around, hoping his returning men could shed some light on new information. He stroked his chin tensely. He finally heard brusque bootsteps approaching.
"My lord!" Skandar called as he rushed into the throne room and quickly bowed.
"Speak, Skandar." Aragorn said.
"Your Majesty, the men you sent to Harad have returned. But I am afraid they are in very poor shape. They look quite ill and injured. If my lord will permit it, I would suggest that they be sent to the healers before being questioned."
Aragorn pursed his lips. What on earth had happened? "How badly off are they?" He asked grimly.
"Quite bad, Your Majesty. Some have injuries that are still healing and a few of the men have taken a virulent fever." Skandar answered seriously. Aragorn exhaled greatly.
"Of course. Take them to the healing halls with all possible speed. I shall look in on them myself. Now go!" Aragorn ordered the soldier who bowed his head and whirled on his heel. Aragorn covered his face with his hands in complete vexation.
"This did not happen the first time I sent them, when I had Merlyn escorted." He told himself. "There is something sinister about this, and my gut tells me Merlyn has somehow had a hand in it."