Echoes Beyond

Getaway

A good traveller is one who knows how to travel with the mind

Aragorn moved swiftly through the streets of Minas Tirith, his steps purposeful but burdened with a silent frustration. The mask Lytharial had suggested concealed his identity, allowing him to blend in with the city's inhabitants. It seemed the guards had ceased their search, and there had been no reports of new bodies for the past few days. The reprieve was welcome, but his mind remained troubled.

He was making his way toward the Citadel, summoned by those who governed in his stead. He hadn't mentioned this to Lytharial, partly because he didn't want to worry her, but mostly because he struggled with the weight of his unspoken truth. He sighed deeply, his breath fogging slightly in the cool morning air. He was the rightful king of Gondor, yet the city was ruled by stewards in his absence. How could he explain this to Lytharial? She seemed unaware of the monumental events that had reshaped Middle-earth, the destruction of the One Ring included.

The Citadel loomed ahead, its towers reaching for the sky, a symbol of Gondor's enduring strength and resilience. As Aragorn approached, he was greeted by the guards at the gate, their eyes lingering on him for a moment before they stepped aside to let him pass. Inside, the grandeur of the place felt almost oppressive. The history, the duty, the expectations—all weighed heavily on him.

He entered the grand hall, where the steward and his advisors were gathered. The room fell silent as he approached, all eyes turning toward him. Denethor, the current steward, sat in his high-backed chair, his gaze sharp and assessing.

     "Aragorn," Denethor greeted him, his tone formal and distant. "You have been summoned here to discuss the recent disturbances in the city. Bodies have been found, and there is unrest among the people. What do you know of this?"

Aragorn felt a flicker of irritation. He had expected the question, but the steward's tone rankled him. 

     "I have been investigating the matter. The killings have ceased for now, but I suspect it is only a temporary lull. The perpetrator remains at large."

Denethor's eyes narrowed. 

     "And what of your companion? The woman you have been seen with? Don't you know there is a bounty on both her and your heads?"

Aragorn bristled slightly. 

     "That woman is not involved in these crimes. She is as much a target as anyone else, if not more. She was wrongfully accused, and I only did what was right."

A murmur of skepticism rippled through the advisors. Aragorn clenched his jaw, fighting to maintain his composure. 

     "She has her reasons for being here, reasons that do not concern the governance of Gondor", he continued as he shifted his right leg, a sign of slight nervousness.

Denethor leaned forward, his expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

     "And what reasons are those? You have "saved" a stranger into our midst, a woman of elven heritage, and you expect us to believe she poses no threat?"

Aragorn met his gaze steadily. 

     "She is seeking answers, as am I. Her past is tied to the darkness we all fought to dispel. She has suffered greatly, and she seeks only to understand what has happened."

The steward sat back, his eyes never leaving Aragorn's. 

     "Very well. But know this, Aragorn: your presence here is a reminder of a claim you have yet to press. The people look to you, even if you do not wish it."