Hope ↠ LOTR

VIII. Throne

It had been a few days since Merry had woken up and he was healing admirably, as were Éowyn and Faramir who she later found Aragorn had healed. It was certainly a shock to her when she was told that Faramir was the brother of Boromir and she would have visited him if her thoughts were not clouded with guilt. Pippin rarely left Merry's side and oftentimes he would be distracting himself from the wounded by composing songs, occasionally asking both Merry and Athena for help when he was stuck on the lyrics. Currently she was perched outside the Houses of Healing, seated on a bench in the city and trying to calm her shaking hands, her forearms resting loosely over her knees and her shoulders hunched over.

Many years she had imagined the moment where her and her brother would return to Gondor and claim back the Kingdom that was rightfully theirs, but now that she was here she couldn't find herself able to admire the white buildings and she hadn't had the heart to even visit the Citadel yet. When she felt someone sit beside her she didn't look up, not wanting to face anybody at the moment.

"Éowyn told me about the training sessions you provided her with. By the way she panicked afterwards I don't think it was intentional," Éomer spoke from next to her, not taking his eyes off the woman.

"I know. It's all my fault that they're here in the first place you don't have to remind me," she stated sharply, staring down at her hands.

"That's not what I was trying to convey," he told her with his eyebrows knitting together, "Éowyn is stubborn and I doubt you would have been able to convince her to stay away from the battlefield, but I do believe that your training gave her enough knowledge to withstand it for as long as she did. If you had not aided her in learning more techniques I fear that she would have fallen much sooner, with no hope of returning to us. So for that, I thank you."

After he finished speaking she looked up at him, a sense of relaxation flitting into her gaze and he sent her a ghost of a smile to further show her that he meant what he had said, she found herself being able to return the gesture. Their smiles slowly fell with time and she found her hands calming down and returning to their normal state.

"I'm sorry, about your uncle," she whispered.

"As am I," he responded solemnly.

"WIll you take him back to Rohan?"

"We will keep him in the Houses of Healing until we return to Edoras, and there he will be buried with his fathers and his son."

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Finally, she found herself able to visit the Citadel. The first thing that she spotted when she reached the top of the stairs was the White Tree of Gondor situated beside a circular fountain. It was dying. No flowers grew on it and she doubted that there was any hope that it would blossom again completely—at least not this one. She stepped past it and went up to the large black doors before pressing her palms against one and pushing it open, stepping into the Tower of Ecthelion.

Of course, she had seen it years ago but it was different to lay eyes on it knowing that at long last it belonged to the those who rightfully owned it. It belonged to her and her brother. It was made entirely of white and black marble, statues of previous kings lining the path forwards and she found herself staring at each individual statue, trying to memorise the faces of her ancestors and smiling to herself as she did so.

Her footsteps echoed against the walls and she stopped when she reached the throne, it was white and gleaming from the sun that shone against it, a set of stairs leading up to it with a black seat placed at the bottom of the stairs for the steward to sit on. Behind the throne was an ornate carving of the White Tree laid in the marble behind it, another reminder of who the throne belonged to.

"It's quite beautiful isn't it lassie?" Gimli spoke from behind her, walking further to stand next to her. "Though it could do with a little less light if you ask me."

Athena chuckled a little at his final statement and watched as he walked forwards until he reached the throne of the steward before turning and sitting on it, letting a sigh of relaxation pass his lips while he pulled out his pipe.

"Your legs must be tired, there's still one seat left you could use," he commented as he lit up the pipe situated in his mouth.

"And the last seat is the throne and I am not the King of Gondor."

"And I'm not the steward but here we are," he responded and allowed the smoke to leave his lips and blow into the room, "don't pretend like you aren't even the slightest bit tempted."

Athena stared at him for a while with narrowed eyes but she had to admit that he was right. So with one glance around the room to make sure nobody else was watching she stepped forwards and made her way up the steps until she reached the throne and slowly lowered herself down onto it. It felt cold underneath her but it soon warmed up. Atop the throne she certainly felt important and she could hear Gimli chuckling triumphantly to himself from below her.

"It suits you."

Her head turned to see that Aragorn had strolled into the room and he was looking right at her, a smile on his face that showed he was not angry in the slightest and he actually found it rather amusing.

"I'm starting to get rather comfortable. You might have to watch your back," she replied and he chuckled at her statement. Athena pushed herself from the throne and walked back down to meet up with him, "in all seriousness though, it feels a little too... kingly for me."

"I see you have not changed your mind about wanting to rule Gondor with me."

"Never have and I doubt I ever will."

"I thought so. On another note, Gandalf has called for a council."

As if he had been summoned, the White Wizard entered the room with Legolas and Éomer behind him. He stopped to stand in the middle of the room while the two men went to stand close to Gimli, side by side.

"What troubles you?" Athena asked Gandalf once they were all convened in the Tower of Ecthelion.

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight," he answered, "the darkness is deepening."

"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it," Aragorn said.

"It is only a matter of time. He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."

"Let him stay there. Let him rot! Why should we care?" Gimli asked, still smoking on his pipe from where he sat.

Gandalf turned to face the Dwarf in order to directly address him. "Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," he explained before his voice became quiet, "I've sent him to his death."

"No. There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that," Aragorn quietly yet confidently stated.

"How?" Gimli asked, asking the question that they all wanted to know the answer to.

"Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

Gimli choked on his smoke from the idea that Aragorn was proposing, Éomer stepping forwards to speak with him. "We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms."

"Not for ourselves. But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"A diversion," Legolas observed.

"Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?" Gimli added on, agreeing to go.

"Sauron will suspect a trap. He will not take the bait," Gandalf told Aragorn.

"Oh, I think he will."

"When?" Athena asked from beside him, her arms crossed.

"We ride out at dawn. We cannot waste anymore time."

Tomorrow they would all be marching to their deaths with the small hope that Frodo would be able to destroy the Ring and save the rest of Middle-earth. One last battle, one last stand, one last breath, and one last hope.