Seeds of the White Tree

Chapter 41 - The Door of Night

It was dark. Very dark, and unnervingly quiet. Eldarion wasn't entirely certain how long he had been in this small, windowless room. It could have been minutes, it could have been an hour. The utter lack of light made it impossible to even guess at what time it might be. So far down in the bedrock of the Sages' Tier, Eldarion could not know that outside the dawn was just about to break, grey and foggy with summer rain.

Thus far, he had not been severely abused, and for that Eldarion supposed he could be thankful. Serthîk's men had stripped him of his armour, leaving him with only his tunic, breeches, and boots. They had even taken his belt, and Tegil's sheath along with it. The wire binding his wrists behind his back chafed menacingly; any attempt to struggle quickly led to broken skin, and so Eldarion kept his hands resting still against the floor on which he sat. After thus restraining him, Serthîk had ordered Eldarion taken to this little room and locked in. There he had been left, alone in darkness, straining to hear any sound which might foretell what was to come.

The faint murmur of voices came again, a little closer than the last time Eldarion had heard it. Feeling his way along the wall, Eldarion edged a few inches toward the door. He was not eager for the Easterlings to return; who knew what they might do then? The men of Rhûn had proven themselves time and time again to be Gondor's mortal enemies, and so Eldarion did not dare to hope. No doubt this group intended revenge against his father and the other heroes of the War of the Ring for the fall of Sauron, or something to that effect. Surely they would kill him...although why they delayed now Eldarion could not guess.

Sitting there, bound and all but blind, it was hard for Eldarion not to dwell on the thought of death. He had fought at the Sea of Rhûn, had felt the thrill of nerves which every soldier risking his life for king and country felt. This was different. In battle, there was just as much chance that a warrior might emerge alive as he might fall. Death, if it came, would likely be impersonal...brutal, yes...but no more fearsome than a freak accident in a tournament melee or a fatal tumble from a galloping horse. To face what was essentially execution at the vengeful hands of a captor, that was another thing entirely.

Footsteps passed outside the door, and Eldarion tensed. They paused, then turned and faded away into silence once more. His fingers were becoming numb, and he cautiously flexed them a few times in a bid to return some feeling. Each breath seemed unnaturally loud in the small, enclosed space, and Eldarion found himself keenly aware of his heart beating in his ears. Were its beats numbered? Was he truly about to die?

Leaning back against the hard stones, Eldarion closed his eyes and sighed. He could only pray that Almárëa had been safely found. Even so, their family would be devastated when she told them of his fate. He did not regret what he had done this night...but he did silently scold himself now for being such a fool. He should have told his father about Rhoss. He should have listened to the instincts which warned that Rhoss was dangerous, and could not be left free in the city. But what proof had Eldarion had? None, save a single whispered conversation in the dark and a chance glimpse in a crowded marketplace. No doubt his parents would have taken Eldarion's concerns about the man seriously, but the truth was that Eldarion had not wanted to appear an over-anxious, inexperienced captain by making claims of whispering shadows and figures in the dark.

Now it seemed that his pride would cost him dearly. Again Eldarion chastised himself, this time for not doing his part to secure the line of the House of Telcontar. By the Valar, what was wrong with him?! It was not for lack of trying that Elfwine still remained unwed and childless, and Elboron was about to become a father at nearly two years younger than Eldarion. Eldarion shook his head at his own folly. He had considered himself next to immortal, with near endless time to accomplish all the things he wished to in this lifetime. What on earth had he been waiting for? Even his mother and father's marriage, for all that the everyday folk had built it up into a fairytale romance to rival the likes of Beren and Lúthien, was in reality a simple choice by two people to love each other. Eldarion had fallen prey to the fairytale though, and in doing so allowed so many opportunities for something real to pass by...