Return to the North [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Silver and Black

A/N: So I actually wrote this last night/this morning and finished around 2am because I wanted to get a chapter out... Then fell asleep while publishing it.

Now - Angmar

Tinneth panted harshly as she lay beside Halion who was also breathing heavily. She smiled and closed her eyes as she caught her breath and then rolled over, planting a kiss on her lover's lips. Their warm bodies heated the mattress comfortably. Suddenly a rapid knocking came from the door. Tinneth sat up, pulling the sheets so they covered her chest. Her long, silver hair fell about her gracefully. Halion slipped on pants quickly as he yelled for the messenger to come in.

"My apologize, lord," cowered a goblin in the doorway, "but the Palantír is glowing!"

Halion nodded and sent the goblin servant in his way. Turning back to his love, their gazes met and both smiled. Aragorn was finally ready to speak.

Tinneth Aradheleth stood and let the sheets fall from her uncovered body. She smirked as Halion stared at her while she moved to the wardrobe.

"Stop it, melda." She teased him lightly, slipping into a silver grey nightgown and placing the black circlet upon her silver head.

Halion Carnimendo, lord of Carn Dûm, chuckled to his lover as he slipped on a loose fitting white shirt over his black pants. Placing his own dark circlet atop his black hair, the red rubies sparkled in the iron and obsidian core. He had a king to speak to.

Taking Tinneth's delicate hand in his own, they walked up the tower stairs into the main treasure room. Passing the guards with nodding heads, Halion opened the door and they wandered in. The floors were cool to the touch on Tinneth's bare feet but she didn't mind. Instead she rather liked it, was fond of it. But the most impressive thing was the glowing Palantír at the center of the room which Halion approached and placed his hand on.

"Greetings, King Elessar," he said with a smirk. "Did you wish to speak with me?"

"I wish to speak to Tinneth," said Aragorn coldly. "I do not recognize your claim to this stone."

"You wound me," he faked. "But very well she is here."

Tinneth stepped up to the stone, trembling. Her hands had longed to touch its cold, black surface, underneath which swirling colors swam. As her hand met the stone, it felt stuck to it as if with a magnet.

She saw in the stone Aragorn, face troubled. He frowned and finally his expression changed as he recognized her appearance.

"Tinneth, my niece," he frowned with a sigh. "Why do you pledge your life to such a man as this traitor?"

"Traitor?" She hissed in anger. "Halion is no traitor. He is only trying to regain what was rightfully his. And restore to me the birthright that should be mine!"

"And what birthright is that?" Aragorn asked quietly, no expression on his face. "What birthright do you seek?"

"I am a child of the blood of Fëanor! I deserve riches and power beyond anything you could grant me," she insisted loudly. "I deserve to be treated like a queen. And I shall be a queen, dark and beautiful!"

"You are a member of a distinguished house," Aragorn agreed. "But you are allowing your avarice and your wrath get the better of you. Come home, Tinneth."

"I am home," she growled angrily. "I belong here, with Halion. I belong here, where soon we shall rule as king and queen of the North!"

Now - Gondor

Aragorn took his hands from the Palantír and covered it up. With a sigh, he rubbed his forehead and turned to Elrohir and Míril who stood behind him, pacing, awaiting news of their daughter.

"I fear she is far gone," Aragorn told them quietly. "Tinneth has embraced the evil of Angmar. It fulfills her desire for herself that she be a queen. She thinks Halion can give her that."

"The first priority is knowing that our children are riding into a war," Elrohir pointed out to his king and adopted brother.

Aragorn nodded in agreement. "Arwen returned with Amdirien from Dunland with news that the treaty had officially been signed. We are now free to move troops through Dunland as we wish."

"How many are we sending North?" asked Míril. "How many are already North?"

"3,000 men and women, 700 of those are highly trained Dunédain. The rest are prepared soldiers and guards I keep up there," Aragorn paused and sighed. "Or they are townsfolk with limited fighting abilities."

"And we will send?" Elrohir said in question.

"5,000 men on foot and 1,000 cavalry men." Aragorn nodded. "With Angmar befriending the goblin king of Mount Gundabad, we need to send as many people as we can spare."

Míril and Elrohir nodded. Aragorn sighed and frowned sympathetically. It was obvious that the two parents were trying very hard to hold it together.

"Go, rest," he ordered them. "Dwelling on what has happened will do nothing."

They didn't have to be told twice.

Now - Rivendell

"How is she?" Aderthon asked Glorfindel quickly over lunch.

The table was laden with fresh venison, salad, vegetables from a garden, and mushrooms picked in the valley. They were ravenously tearing away at the food.

"She seems to be stable," Glorfindel replied. "I am keeping her asleep for a few days to let her heal at her own pace."

"Can we see her?" Círeth asked him. "I'd like to see her."

Glorfindel smiled and nodded. "Of course."

Eldarion was glad of this news. He wished he could've prevented the damage done to Fëalas in the first place, but knowing her recovery was a very real, even probable, event was comforting.

"We thank you, Lord," he told the elf. "We are indebted to you."

Glorfindel laughed. "Nonsense. It seems almost my job to care for lost children. First Aragorn, then Míril. Now your group. I'm beginning to enjoy it!"

Edeva shifted at being called a child but she said nothing to challenge him. It wasn't her place. But she shot Aderthon a look and he chuckled silently in response. Neither of them noticed Elfwine looking decidedly irritated at the silent exchange between his sister and his mentor.

After lunch, Aderthon and Círeth were led by Glorfindel to a room of the Last Homely House. With a key, he opened the door and showed them inside.

"What is this?" Círeth asked in confusion.

"This was your mother's room," explained the elf lord. "When she lived here in Rivendell, she slept here."

Aderthon stepped forward into the room. With a small smile he touched the soft bed and felt the sheets with his hand. He was very excited. Perhaps Glorfindel would show them their father's room as well!

"What's this?" Círeth murmured.

She had been exploring a drawer next to the bed. She lifted a false panel from the drawer and placed it on the bed. Glorfindel and Aderthon came over to take a look. In the drawer was a book.

Círeth picked it up and examined it. It was a diary, or so it appeared to be, though the first several pages with identifying information was gone.

"That is a rare find!" cried Glorfindel. "For that was written by Lord Maglor himself!"

"Maglor wrote this?" asked Aderthon, mouth agape in awe. "The Maglor?"

"Yes!" The blonde elf nodded. "I would recognize such handwriting anywhere. What a rare find, indeed. Keep it safe!"