Dreams of Power [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Anger Management

"We should be going to war," Aderthon shouted to his friend in frustration. He had gone to find Eldarion and found him in his bedroom. "We shouldn't just send more rangers! We need to send the army."

Eldarion sat at his desk, head in his hands. He thanked whichever Valar were listening that his door remained closed. Aderthon had worked himself into a frenzy. "Aderthon, I agree, but it is not up to us." The prince sighed.

"It isn't your sister being sent back out into enemy lands," Aderthon countered, glaring at his friend. "Of course you'd be fine with this."

Eldarion slammed closed the book he had been trying to read. He spun out of his chair and all but growled his answer. "Do not act like I don't care. What do you want from me? A screaming match?" He pointed to Aderthon. "You seem to be doing well enough at that by yourself."

"I will not lose another family member," Aderthon spat through gritted teeth. "It should be me fighting the enemy, not my sister."

Eldarion reached out to put a hand on Aderthon's shoulder. "She is a stout warrior, as capable or more at fighting than you or I am in the type of terrain she is facing."

The son of Elrohir frowned but stopped his shouting. He turned to look out Eldarion's window, down into the courtyard below. He caught sight of someone and visibly relaxed. Eldarion followed his gaze and found Nimwing laughing alongside Adira as they walked into the citadel.

The prince chuckled. "Perhaps you would be better served to complain to Lady Nimwing than I. She seems to calm you down much faster."

Aderthon rolled his eyes and turned back to his friend. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Do not be so daft, Aderthon. You're in love with her. It's easy to see." Eldarion smiled. "I'm happy for you. You deserve some good in this world."

"So do you, my friend. Have any of the suitors caught your fancy?" Aderthon returned the smile.

But Eldarion frowned in response. "Nay, none. I fear I shall not marry out of love."

"You may yet, my friend. You may yet."

Eldarion shrugged and walked towards the door Aderthon had shut. He opened it and gestured for him to follow. Aderthon sighed and stood from where he'd leaned himself against his cousin's bed, following him out.

"Where to?" he asked Eldarion.

"To find the sister who has been left behind," the prince reminded him. "Do not think you alone are frightened for Círeth."

Aderthon nodded, a shameful frown across his face. He should've thought of Fëalas too. She and Círeth were as close as Eldarion and Aderthon, perhaps closer. Together the cousins wandered through the hallways of the citadel, and into the main dining hall. There they found Fëalas dining with Aragorn, Arwen, Amdirien, and Sidhil.

"We were wondering if you meant to skip lunch altogether," Arwen scolded them lightly. "We went ahead and started."

"For that I am sorry," Aderthon sighed. "I kept Eldarion."

The prince rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disagreement. "I would've kept reading straight through lunch had he not interrupted."

They took their seats at the table and food was brought to them by workers. Today's meal consisted of some kind of fowl and salad with bread. A good meal, and yet also not as decadent as they were often accustomed to eating. Most found it a welcome change.

"Malika and I want to train, mother," Sidhil said as she chewed her meat. "When can we start?"

Both Aragorn and Arwen paused. They exchanged a glance, but it was Arwen who responded. "Not yet. You are too young."

"I bet Aderthon and Fëalas and Círeth trained at ten," Sidhil argued quickly. "And Eldarion."

"Actually, Miril began their training at thirteen. Perhaps we will let you train once you reach that age," Aragorn argued. "Not a moment before."

"Why not?" Sidhil pushed again. "I must know how to defend myself!"

Arwen placed her fork down. "Sidhil, that's final."

The girl shut her mouth and sat still. She didn't understand why her parents always became tight and serious around the topic of training. She had heard stories of Estelwen, her now deceased older sister, who passed before she was born. She knew Estelwen had died in battle. But to Sidhil, that proved only one thing: she should be trained. Estelwen had gone as a healer. Sidhil would go to battle as a warrior.

"When would you like me to head back to the Southern borders," Fëalas asked, hoping to change the subject.

"I actually have a different job for you and Elboron now. I need you and a handful of rangers to escort him to Aglarond. Gimli will be expecting you." Aragorn gestured for their plates to be taken away. "He has chosen to send his son, Nim, as an ambassador. I want you two to bring him here."

Fëalas nodded. "When should we leave?"

"I spoke to Elboron this morning. I would say tomorrow." Aragorn stood from the table. "In the meantime, choose your rangers and let them know."

"I'll do so right away," Fëalas got up and pushed her chair back in. She rushed out the door, and Aderthon exchanged a glance with Eldarion in response to her quick exit.

He stood immediately and followed her. No one said anything as he rushed to catch up with his younger sister. He caught a glimpse of her red hair as she passed the White Tree and he called out. She halted but did not turn to face him.

"Fëalas," he sighed. "I'm as worried about Cir as you are." He placed a hand on her arm as they stood side by side and looked at the gate to the next level. "Trust me. She'll be fine."

"I'm not so sure, Aderthon," Fëalas admitted. "Something isn't right with her. Sending Círeth to Rhun seems like a mistake." As the white cat that'd grown attached to the citadel residents passed them and rubbed her legs, she smiled lightly. "Tar-Mëonis is either a murderer or a sorceress. And I'm not sure which is worse in a monarch."

"She's just going to scout out the border, keep watch," Aderthon argued as much to himself as to his sister.

Fëalas nodded. "I hope you're right."

"When am I not," Aderthon cheekily smirked. Then he stopped. "On the other hand, don't answer that."