Sword and Arrow

Chapter 65

Beruthiel sprinted into the room, skidding to a stop near Aragorn. He knelt on the floor, his head held between his hands. "Aragorn?" She only stopped a few moments to throw her cloak over the Palantir that had rolled away. "Aragorn!"

A low groan escaped from Aragorn's mouth. "It hurts, Ruth."

"It's all right." She knelt beside him, holding him and letting him rest his head against her chest. "You're going to be fine."

"He showed me-" Aragorn's voice cut off, his words choked. "Ruth, he-"

"Shhh." Beruthiel knew she had a horrible bedside manner, and was the absolute worst at comforting others. She did her best to stroke his hair and pat the back of his shoulder until Aragorn stopped shaking. "We're going to fix it. There's nothing that we can't fix."

"She's dead," Aragorn whispered, his words muffled by the fabric of her shirt. "He showed me, she died." His hand found hers and he gripped it, hard; holding onto the edge of a cliff.

"Who?"

"Arwen. He showed me, Ruth, she's dead."

"She can't be dead," Beruthiel said confidently. "She's an elf. He's trying to scare you away, Aragorn. You're stronger than him."

"I hope I am," he said. "I really hope I am, Ruth."

"Look at me." Beruthiel took Aragorn's face between two hands and made him look up at her. "Aragorn, you are the strongest, bravest man I know. If there's anything to be done, you are the man that can do it. No matter what it is."

Aragorn smiled weakly. His hand traced gently down her back, coming to a rest just under her shoulder blades. "Thank you." He sighed, kissing her forehead. "Thank you for believing in me."

"It's what I do."

🏹👑🗡️

"He has seen it," Aragorn announced to the council of leaders later that night. "He will rise to the bait. I am sure of it."

A large map was spread across the wooden table, depicting the westernmost corner of Gondor to the plains east of Mordor. Aragorn stood above it, already seeing strategy in his head. "We can send out riders," he suggested. "Dol Amroth has many knights and soldiers, as does Linhir and Pelargir."

"Dol Amroth's garrison still holds strong," Imrahil, the prince of Dol Amroth confirmed. "We have not suffered many attacks by sea - they have been concentrated along the banks of the Anduin, on Osgiliath and other outposts. If a rider is sent, an army can be on the march as soon as the day after he arrives."

"Excellent," Aragorn said. "Send riders for reinforcements. Let the city have a week to recover from the battle, then we march on the Black Gate."

"There are still a few Rohirrim fiefs that did not send men to our ride to Minas Tirith," Éomer added. "I will send messengers to them. You will have our cavalry, Aragorn." Though Éomer had not yet been crowned king after Théoden's passing, he had taken up the mantle in all but name and led the Rohirrim that had followed him here thus far.

"Wonderful," Aragorn said with a nod, leaning over the map. "We will need them. It is greatly appreciated, Lord Éomer."

"We shall adjourn for the night," Gandalf declared. "Get rest. You need to recover just as much as the rest of the city does."

"Isn't that true," Beruthiel muttered as she took the stones off the edges of the map. She carefully rolled it up to one long tube and put it back in its case, then the case in the holes that lined one side of the room.

"I'm going to head to bed," Beruthiel announced with a yawn and a stretch. "I'm deathly tired."

"I'll come back with you," Aragorn offered. "I need to take these back to our camp." He lifted a carrier full of documents and maps onto his shoulder.