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

Hopeful News

Now - Tharbad

The army was making very good time. Three weeks had gone by since Dunland, and the army was at the ruins of Tharbad which had begun to be rebuilt by a joint expedition of Rohan and the Reunited Kingdom. The bridge was rebuilt and thus they crossed and settled on the other side, finding some dry land among the fens.

Estelwen made her way through the camp to where the horses of her friends had been brought along. Picked up in Rohan, the horses had been led by Greymane back to Rohan. When the small company of Rohirrim joined the Gondorian army, the horses came along with them.

She watched the men devouring their meals, slurping unceremoniously at the broth. Estelwen wondered what their stories were. Who were they? Each man had a family, had friends.

They're going to fight for their lives because my friend, my family, betrayed us. She sighed. What right do we have to ask that?

"Estelwen," came a soft voice as a hand was placed on her shoulder.

She turned to see Elrohir behind her. He looked older than she'd ever seen him, worn from the trials and heartache of late. She felt bad for him. Tinneth had destroyed her parents' spirits.

"How are you doing, Uncle?" she asked with a small, encouraging smile.

He chuckled lightly. "I came to ask you the same thing. I know you've been having a hard time coming to terms with Tinneth's betrayal."

"How could you know that?" she murmured in surprise.

Elrohir had a knowing look on his face. But there was only sadness behind his grey eyes. Estelwen wanted to hug him.

"It's not hard to tell," he sighed. "Especially as I see the same expression in my beloved's face each day. And I'm sure Míril sees the same in me."

Estelwen stepped forward and flung her arms around her uncle. He gladly held her close, trying to refrain from crying himself as a few tears dropped down his niece's face.

"Come on," he said softly. "Let's get back to our tents."

She agreed and followed Elrohir through the tents and campsites back to where her father and the others were. Estelwen stepped carefully around the many sleeping men, not wanting to wake them. When she caught sight of her father, she stopped and shot him a small smile, though little tears like glass filled her eyes to the brim. Aragorn opened his arms and she ran to him.

"My child," he smiled. "Someone has arrived who I would like you to meet."

"Arrived?" she asked, walking with her father into the tent. "Who would've arrived?"

As she entered the tent, she saw an elf in the corner, speaking with Míril and Elladan. Elrohir immediately joined his wife. The elf, blonde and blue eyed, turned to look at her.

"Greetings," he smiled, standing to bow. "I am Glorfindel."

"Lord Glorfindel," she said, her breath hitching in awe. "It is an honor."

"I have news from your children," he revealed to everyone present. "They told me of their suspicions of Lady Tinneth. I see it is now true. I have come to offer my assistance."

Now - Annuminas

"We have to prepare for the worst." Bergil sighed.

Aderthon, Eldarion, and Bergil stood around a table in the main house of Annuminas. On the table built of mahogany wood were maps, troop assignments, and lists of materials. They had 500 northern Dunédain rangers. Deployed across the region, they were stretched thin. The regular troops, numbering about 1,000, were in support of these as they knew the north less. They were usually in reserve.

"The worst?" asked Aderthon.

Bergil nodded. "In case Lord Aragorn has not gotten the message and has not sent troops."

"We cannot hold off the attack if the numbers you have given us are correct," Aderthon shook his head.

Bergil frowned and agreed with him. "We will be hard pressed. With only 1500 troops left, we are sorely undermanned."

Suddenly a knock came at the door. Bergil called for the newcomer to enter. The large wooden doors swung open and in strode a man, tall, with dark hair. He was covered in dirt and sweat. But he bore the uniform of the southern rangers.

"My Lords," he bowed deeply, panting. "I bring news from the South!"

Bergil, Aderthon, and Eldarion rushed to him. Aderthon guided the man to a chair. He gladly accepted the seat and slumped down.

"What news?" Eldarion asked quickly.

"My Prince," he nodded. "Your father is but a month away. He is bringing 7,000 men."

"Praise Elbereth!" Bergil murmured, walking away and raising his eyes.

"He sent me forward to deliver the news." The man looked at them hopefully. "Is there a bed or bath I could use?"

"You shall have both," Eldarion smiled. "You there!" He called to a guard. "Take this man to a guest house and see he is fed and a bath is drawn."

When the messenger had gone, Bergil and the two grandsons of Elrond turned to each other once again. Bergil looked more hopeful.

"That means we need to only hold the enemy off for a month." Bergil smiled. "This is good news indeed!"

"Can we do it?" Aderthon asked them. "Can we?"

Eldarion sighed. "We must."

Meanwhile, Círeth and Fëalas were out in the yard practicing their archery. A few northern Dunédain, recognizing their southern brethren, came over and joined them.

"You are the Ladies Círeth and Fëalas?" asked a young man, obviously a ranger in training.

"Indeed," smiled Fëalas. "We are captains of Ithilien."

"You're here to help us fight the traitor in the North, aren't you?" another young man asked her.

Fëalas and Círeth stiffened. But they nodded. They were here to help stop their sister. She was deserving of death for her crimes. After all, she had murdered dozens of rangers.

"Tinneth killed my son," said an elderly man, walking over. "I hope she gets what she deserves. Will you give it to her?"

Fëalas hesitated but Círeth spoke immediately.

"Yes."