Dreams of Power [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Explanations

“Alphros,” Aderthon ordered. “Go, tell King Elessar that we are speaking of Barahir.”

Ducking inside the side hallway they stood near, Eldarion locked the door behind the group from the Northern Fellowship so that the boy would not be able to follow. Elboron was in shock, and eager for answers but he bided his time and bit his tongue. Elfwine briefly laid a hand on his shoulder as they walked. Fëalas didn't know what was going on any more than Elboron. She began to bug Círeth for answers until at last they stepped inside a small meeting room. All sat.

“Here’s what we know,” Eldarion began with a sigh. “Nearly three months ago Círeth came to Minas Tirith bearing news that Barahir had gone missing and his rangers had been found dead.”

“I found them on the border with Rhûn. Ambushed,” Círeth added quickly.

Eldarion nodded at her. “My father sent her back to investigate.”

Círeth slinked through the forest like a cat. Silent, eyes open, and ready to attack. She was accompanied by ten rangers. Just as silent as her, they were a deadly force in the Reunited Kingdom. Círeth was respected as their captain because she tolerated no nonsense. One didn't mess with this daughter of Elrohir.

The site of the ambush was nearby. It was twilight, with long shadows cast by the few trees and many shrubs. The grass beneath their boots was growing darker by the minute until it almost appeared black rather than green. The sky was painted purple and red and navy blue. As they grew closer, night deepened. But still there was enough light to see.

Círeth held up a hand to silence them. The forests around the Sea of Rhûn was right in front of them. The border. And there was the site of the massacre.

But someone was already there: two figures dressed all in black, hooded and veiled, examining the ground. Barely visible among the dancing tree shadows, Círeth watched them curiously. These were no soldiers of Rhûn she was familiar with. Círeth motioned for two of her men to draw their bows. She stood.

Instantly the two black figures shot up and stared at her. They drew daggers and took up defensive postures. One of them tossed a dagger at the ground not far in front of Círeth. Together they ran off into the trees.

It was very odd. She stopped and picked up the dagger. On its hilt was carved the silhouette of an eagle’s head. She pocketed it to show her King. They found little else of interest that they hadn't found before at the spot of the ambush, and due to the run in with the mystery figures, she didn't particularly feel it necessary, or wise, to travel deeper into Rhûn's wilderness.

“Have Aragorn and the loremasters been able to identify the markings?” Elfwine asked.

Elboron shook his head. “More importantly, what are we going to do about my brother?”

With a sigh, Eldarion leaned back in his against his chair. “We wanted to wait for your return before making a decision. It's been over three months, Elboron.”

“The odds that he’s still alive are very small,” Aderthon murmured, averting his eyes.

Elboron felt his face growing red. This was his brother they were talking about, and no amount of logic would stop his rage. He turned to Círeth in anger “Why did you send him towards Rhûn?!”

“He wanted the job,” Círeth sneered. “I wouldn't have sent him had I thought it more unsafe than anything else!”

“Rhûn is dangerous all the time!” Elboron snapped back, standing out of his chair.

Aderthon stood and tried to separate his friend from his now-standing sister. “Now, friends…”

Círeth gritted her teeth and slammed her hand on the table. “Of course it’s dangerous! Everything we do is dangerous. I send men out there, every day, to risk their lives for this nation. Barahir is even more capable than most these!”

Elboron felt his face burning. He hadn't meant to belittle the work the rangers did each day. But he would not back down. As he opened his mouth to say something, Eldarion finally put his foot down.

“Both of you! Stop it.” Eldarion put his head in his hands as he spoke firmly.

Elfwine and Fëalas exchanged glances as Círeth and Elboron sat back down. Fëalas placed a hand on her twin sister’s arm to calm her down.

“Elboron, go take some time for yourself.” Eldarion walked over to him a placed a hand on his shoulder. “Find your wife.”

Elboron hesitated, biting his tongue for a moment. Finally he stood and nodded at Eldarion before leaving the room. As he left the room, Eldarion remained standing, placing his hand on his forehead with a sigh.

“Peace, Eldarion.” Elfwine frowned watching his friend. “There is no easy answer to this. You said and did what was best. Let him process this information.”

Eldarion found a smile creep onto his face as he faced away from the group. He turned around and faced Elfwine. “What happened to the sixteen year old boy we traveled with to Arnor?”

“It's been fifteen years, Eldarion,” Elfwine laughed. “I grew up.”

Eldarion replied quietly. “Your sister would be proud.”

The prince of Rohan gave a single, curt nod and swallowed hard before responding. “As would yours.”

Eldarion nodded at him, face betraying the complex emotions he felt inside remembering the journey all assembled here had taken part in. They had lost much. They had lost family members, they had lost friends. Now it was happening again.

“What was gleaned from the dagger, Eldarion?” Fëalas asked curiously after a few moments of solemn silence for those they'd lost.

“My father says that there is too much diplomatic pandering among the loremasters.” Eldarion sighed. “Aderthon and I have been busy keeping the four suitors happy.”

“What about you?” Elfwine asked Círeth.

She glared at the table. “The loremasters are no friends of mine. That’s the job of a diplomat, not a ranger.”

Elfwine nodded. He supposed she was right. “Then Amdirien?”

“Busy with the hobbits and the Council,” Aderthon groaned out.

Fëalas grimaced. “Then I guess it's up to Elboron.”