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

Preparations for War

A/N: After a long delay, I have another chapter for you. Unfortunately my explanation for the delay is simple: mental health issues got in the way.

Now - Rivendell

The next morning, Glorfindel took Aderthon, Círeth, Eldarion, and Elboron deep into the Homely House to find Fëalas. When they arrived, her pale face looked like a doll as she slept soundly and without moving anything but her chest. Her cheeks were slightly rosy, a healthier shade than they had been in many weeks and for this, her friends were thankful.

"She looks quite peaceful," Aderthon said with a slight smile tugging at his lips.

The other three agreed. Círeth, Eldarion, and Elboron watched Fëalas sleeping alongside Aderthon. Glorfindel, retrieving a cocktail of herbs and medicines, knelt beside her and lay a hand over her forehead. Breathing a word of elvish, he woke her. Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced around at the ceiling before her eyes rested on the golden haired elf.

"Am I dead?" she asked innocently.

Glorfindel smiled kindly, moving to help her sit up. "No, child. You are very much alive."

Suddenly her eyes caught her brother and sister's gazes. With a gasp she grinned and tried to stand, but Glorfindel held her down, telling her to stay put. Instead, the others came to her.

"How do you feel?" Aderthon asked in utmost concern as he sat beside her on her bed. "Are you feeling alright?"

Fëalas crunched her eyebrows together as she weighed the question in her mind. Part of her wanted to say she was fine, but the other half of her mind still felt... off.

"I feel..." she trailed off before continuing, "I feel strange."

Glorfindel flashed a small smile and nodded. "It will take a few days yet for your mind to fully recover. You are lucky you found me when you did. Another week or two, and I may not have been able to help."

Eldarion nodded. "Indeed, the grace of the Valar was with us."

"Truly." Glorfindel smiled. "Now. Let us leave her to rest." He turned back to face Fëalas and laid a hand on her arm. "Sleep, child. I will return soon."

Fëalas nodded with a yawn. They left her in the room and retreat outside to where the others remained. When they found the others, Elfwine and Barahir were sparring. Elfwine, though tall like most Rohirrim, was not as built as Barahir. Finduilas called out pointers to the young man as he faced her brother with swords. Guthwinë flashed in the sunlight as it clanged against Barahir's blade.

"Good shot," Eldarion nodded with a smile. "Keep going!"

Elfwine grinned and was distracted just long enough for Barahir to land a hit with the flat of his sword onto Elfwine's arm.

"Pay attention!" Edeva scolded her brother fiercely. "Or are you going to let your cousin beat the prince of Rohan?"

"Ai! In my defense," Barahir scowled at his cousin Edeva, "I am the son of a Prince. I'm no commoner."

Everyone laughed. Glorfindel watched the dueling cousins with ease and he smiled fondly. Aderthon noticed.

"Would you face me, Lord?" He asked the elf politely. "It would be my honor."

Glorfindel smirked but inclined his head. "If you wish."

Glorfindel swept a sword from his side and gestured for Aderthon to take the middle of the courtyard as the other two moved out of the way. Aderthon drew his own sword, a long blade of beautiful mannish craftsmanship. But against the slightly curved, long blade of elvish make, it paled in comparison.

Círeth smiled and nodded. "Begin."

The blades flew through the air. At first, Aderthon held his own fairly well. He never managed to land a blow, but he kept Glorfindel's strikes at bay. He felt good about himself and the cheers of his comrades thrilled him.

He began getting too cocky. He made some mistakes, gave Glorfindel several "ins". With each passing blow, he weakened. He couldn't keep up with the speed and intricacy of the elf Lord's prowess. And soon he was on the ground.

"A valiant effort." Glorfindel smiled, offering him a hand up. "You are almost as well trained as your mother and father. Almost."

Aderthon just smiled and nodded, standing up with his help. "Thank you, lord. Truly you are magnificent with a sword!"

"I was trained in Valinor for a different kind of combat, against foes the likes of which I hope you never see." Glorfindel sighed. "Fortunately my teacher was more dangerous even than these."

They pressed him for more information, but all he told them was to have patience. If they were supposed to find out such things, they would. An altogether unsatisfactory answer, they complained to each other for a long while when Glorfindel went to check on Fëalas.

Now - Gondor

"The army should be ready to move out in two weeks," Faramir told King Elessar. "Dol Amroth's knights and infantry are here already. The main city's garrisons are prepping as we speak, and squadrons from the other provinces are arriving every day."

Aragorn nodded. He and his steward, Faramir, sat together in a room of maps and troop placements. The mahogany table in the center was filled with reports, lists, and requests for signatures. It was the business of war.

Aragorn had called the council meeting two days before. Immediately they had voted to send an army north. Queen Arwen had secured safe passage through Dunland alongside their daughter Amdirien. Now it was time to act.

"Have messages from Rohan come here yet?" asked Aragorn. "Are they sending aid?"

"Two thousand cavalry," said Faramir with a nod. "Led by Lord Elden, the son of Erkenbrand."

"That is good," Aragorn replied with a sigh. "For this could be a hard fight. My scouts I sent out a month ago have returned from Mount Gundabad. Many goblins are gathering there."

"Have we sent word to Lord Thorin Stonehelm?" Faramir asked in concern. "Surely they need to know."

"Yes," the king smiled with a strain. "I sent two messengers to him recently. I expect they will arrive within a week or two and then we shall see his response." He sighed. "But we cannot wait for him. We must hope he sends troops."

Suddenly the door burst open. A woman with dark hair neatly curled and drawn back, her dress of white and light blue silk, rushed in and scowled.

"Estelwen! What is the meaning of this?" Aragorn quickly stood upon his daughter's entrance.

"What is the meaning of your forbidding me to ride North alongside the other healers?" She glared daggers at her father. "I am as capable, more I dare say, than any of them!"

Aragorn sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are too precious to me to put you in danger."

"Nonsense!" She folded her arms in protest. "You sent Eldarion, the heir to the kingdom, to the North!"

Aragorn sighed. "Estelwen-"

"No. I will not be kept here like a doll to be protected. I want to defend my home, my friends, my family, as much as anyone else." She went forward to get father and spoke more gently. "You know I can do better than the ordinary healers. What if you need that?"

"I will speak to your mother," he relented at last. "But do not get your hopes up."