"I suggest using the escape tunnel as a distraction instead of our main push. Talion once used it as such and, while our opponent is not acting on their own, they may have been given orders to guard the entrance by their master."
"A frontal assault won't be easy to pull off either way," Lithariel took a heavy sip from her mug, "The fort fell to them pretty much without much of a fight. The most inner walls are still under construction, but outer ones are still standing. Metal reinforcements included."
Aragorn shifted in his seat.
"'Without much fight?' How many traitors were there?"
An uneasy silence fell over the oval table, only the soft rustling of maps and parchments in the soft breeze flowing through the war tent. Even the king of Gondor barely suppressed the shutter of fear at the glare of hatred the Queen of the shore aimed at the nazgûl's back. The dark rider remained either unaware or unbothered as he kept his focus on healing the still blueish looking, unconscious young prince. Aragorn cleared his throat.
"Anyway, how many warriors do we have? Are we at least close in numbers to the personnel of the fort?"
"About so," an elderly looking orc spoke up, absentmindedly stroking a strange looking pelt sitting on his shoulders, "Currently, we have five hundred warriors at our disposal, not counting Cárnan's forces. While the fort stands almost eight hundred strong, there are not many captains left and one of the remaining is still loyal to the boss. He will help with taking the fort."
Lithariel shot up from her seat, a scowl on her face.
"For how long I wonder. Now, you will have to excuse me, there's still work to be done before the assault."
After the Queen's departure the small war council went over a few more details before everyone went on their way, leaving Aragorn and the preoccupied Talion in the canvas shelter with the still bleeding prince. The ranger took a moment to truly regard the wraith before him, in what felt like a decade. Despite being semi-healed by Cárnan, there were still some vibrant green roots visible as they moved in the nazgûl's wounds as if they were continuously stitching him together. The ninth of the rings of men still, as an angry ember, pulsed with an inner fire against the green vines pushing against the ring's gem.
"How is he doing?"
"Barely surviving."
"..."
"Is there something else you wanted to say?"
"To apologise, maybe and to offer help with the healing. I may not know much about keeping a soul bound to a body, but I have some skill in healing the flesh."
"... Apologise?"
"Yes," Aragon rose from his seat to stand next to the black rider, who still refused to look away from the unconscious prince, "not for my preconceptions of you and your people, mind you, most of them were pretty accurate to start with, they just gained a few more points of information to them. I would like to apologise for acting as rashly as I did. War should not have been my first choice and despite being lied to by, who I know now to be traitors, the responsibility still lies with me. For that, I offer my sincerest apologies."
A gentle morning breeze flew through the tent as one king waited for the other's response. Talion, finally, looked up from his work a ghost of a smirk dancing on his pale features.
"Preconceptions you s-..."
The wraith suddenly clutched his slit neck and mouth, coughing drily. Aragorn immediately steadied his companion and, with one hand resting on Talion's shoulder, handed his one of the half-filled mugs still on the table.
YOU ARE READING
Kingdom of the fallen
Fanfiction***UNDER EDITTING*** As a ranger of Gondor, Talion was slaughtered on the Black Gate with everyone he ever loved. However, Talion did not find peace in death. He was cursed, and resurrected, by a powerful wraith Celebrimbor, who reforged him into an...
