Seeds of the White Tree

Chapter 4 - Leave Taking

OoOoO

The sun rose pale as a pearl over the White City, casting its towers and parapets in an opalescent glow. A chill spring breeze swept over the mountains and down into the city where it caught the black and white banners high. Eldarion looked to the Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering tall and smooth against the sky. The wind whispered in his ears and brushed strands of his glossy dark hair across his brow. Dawn was the time of day Eldarion loved the best. To him, the White City never looked more beautiful than at first light.

He and the other lords and ladies of Gondor were gathered before the gates of Minas Tirith. Soon those gates would open, sending them out into the world beyond. The armies of Gondor and of Rohan waited on the Fields of Pelennor for their kings. It would be at five days' ride if not more to reach the inland Sea of Rhûn. This was not only the first time that the Men of the West had ridden out in force in more than a decade; it was also Eldarion's first true military campaign. The same was also true for both Elboron and Elfwine, prince of Rohan.

Eldarion felt a confusing swirl of emotions coursing through him as he watched his father embrace each of his sisters. For the most part he was excited, keenly aware that as Captain of Gondor one day he would be expected to not just participate in but lead campaigns such as this. He was also somewhat nervous, as was to be reasonably expected. A third, smaller and less prominent voice whispered words of quiet doubt in the prince's ear. Would he be able to live up to his father's reputation? Would the soldiers of Gondor ever one day look to him with such awe and admiration? Eldarion knew this first impression on the field would be everything moving forward. That concerned him almost more than the thought all warriors must learn to live with; the possibility of falling in battle.

With a final squeeze Aragorn finally prised Almárëa out of his arms. The youngest princess of Gondor only reluctantly let go of her father before asking him for the hundredth time that morning "You promise you'll be home again before Midsummer, Father?"

"Yes Almárëa, I promise. Before sunset on the longest day I will be back in Minas Tirith with you, your sisters and your mother. And so will Eldarion."

Eruthiawen and Túrien exchanged a sideways glance beside Arwen. They were both close enough to womanhood to know that a soldier's promise must always be taken with a dose of caution. The king was a legendary swordsman though, and they were all perhaps less concerned for Aragorn as they were for Eldarion. Even Túrien deigned to give her brother a hug; a rare occasion.

"Be careful out there, Eldarion." Túrien said somberly. Then the usual spark of mischief returned to her midnight blue eyes. "You would rob all the young women of Gondor of a national treasure if you managed to damage that pretty face of yours in a fight."

Eldarion flushed but returned his middle sister's teasing squeeze. Túrien was lithe as a willow and nimble as quicksilver in his arms. Quick as a flash she was already dancing away beyond reach.

"Never mind marring your appearance, just be sure to return as well and whole as you left us." Eruthiawen's embrace was longer, more comfortable and at ease than Túrien's. If she were worried for Aragorn and Eldarion, her calm smile kept such concerns well hidden. "I have no doubt that you are more than ready for this. Still I will ask the Valar to keep an eye out for you, Little Brother."

It was something of a joke between Eldarion and Eruthiawen, one that they had carried on since they were adolescents. Eruthiawen had for a brief space of time been taller than Eldarion, owing to the propensity of maidens to sprout before youths. Gimli had jokingly remarked at the time that between her height and her maturity it would be all too easy to believe Eruthiawen was Eldarion's elder. Even after Eldarion caught up to and surpassed Eruthiawen, she still continued to affectionately refer to him as her 'Little Brother'.