Seeds of the White Tree

Chapter 5 - Into The East

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The ride to Rhûn was long and tedious, but not so bad as Eldarion has initially feared. Once they were out of sight of Minas Tirith the army had begun to relax into what his father had termed a 'traveling mood'. Up and down the columns of soldiers songs occasionally broke out, some more tasteful than others. There were also Elboron and Elfwine to talk with on the long ride, and the three youths swapped dozens of stories involving their own daily adventures and other more noteworthy escapades. Elfwine perhaps was not quite as close to Eldarion and Elboron as they were to each other, him living almost three day's ride away in Rohan. It did not take long though for the newly minted Third Marshal to remember his place in the friendship the three of them had cultivated as boys.

Almost as enjoyable as spending time with his friends for Eldarion was spending time with his father. In Minas Tirith, Aragorn was the High King and there always seemed to be a hundred and one demands on his time. Even in the evenings when the royal family gathered together before the hearth there was always the danger that someone might 'drop in quickly' for a consultation. Out here on the road, Aragorn's only concern was the army, and Eldarion was in the army. When he was not laughing and chatting with Elboron and Elfwine, Eldarion rode at the head of the Gondorion army beside Aragorn. It was rare and precious time at least somewhat alone with his father that Eldarion did not underestimate the value of.

As they rode east the land around them turned grey and sour. On the eve of the second day they had passed the void in the mountains where the Black Gates had once stood. Aragorn, Éomer, Legolas and Gimli had ridden out beyond the army a short ways to look down upon the site from a barren hilltop. Eldarion and Elfwine had watched their fathers from afar, both wondering just what returning to this place meant to them. The Battle of the Black Gates had been where Sauron fell and the War of the Ring won. It was still a grim, melancholy place though, a toothless mouth gaping open on the wound that was Mordor.

"My father once told me that he very nearly lost everything in the War of the Ring." Elfwine had said, gazing across the field at the four old veterans. His green cloak whipped in the wind, mingling with the dark gold tangles of his hair. "My grandparents, his cousin, his uncle, and very nearly my aunt as well, all either dead or gravely wounded. I cannot imagine what it would be like, to stand on the brink of all darkness with almost nothing left to lose but your own life."

"Neither can I." Eldarion replied. "We are very lucky, you and I, that we live in the times that we do. Even if we are still riding out to war."

Elfwine grinned then, shifting on his horse Garulf so that his axe stuck up higher over his shoulder. "That I do not lament. We are young men, and the sons of warriors. What would we do if not follow in our fathers' footsteps?"

"Perhaps tread our own footsteps along paths yet undiscovered?" Elboron sidled up his yellow mare alongside Eldarion and Elfwine.

"Spoken like a son of the great pacifist himself." Elfwine teased not unkindly. "What is it that your father once said? 'I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.'?"

Elboron raised a golden eyebrow at Elfwine, the wind catching soft curls and tossing them onto his brow. "You must have taken his words to heart at least somewhat to have committed them to memory so exactly."

"Aha, he has you there, Elfwine!" Eldarion laughed aloud. "Perhaps there is more of the blood of gentle Dol Amroth in you than meets the eye."

"I think plenty of that bloodline already meets the eye, doesn't it, 'Elfwine the Fair'?" Elboron winked, referring to Elfwine's rapidly spreading nickname.