The Art of Fact

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"There is no likely way that could be achieved," Legolas was saying as I walked into the great hall.

"No way what could be achieved?" I asked, taking my place at the long, polished table.

"If Irmo has given his blessing," Arwen said, "the purpose must be fulfilled. Prince Legolas is suggesting that the quest be continued by himself and another, with you staying here in Gondor."

"What?" I said incredulously. "Legolas, I'm not just going to—"

"Gianna," he said, an imploring quality to his voice. "We can't risk you getting hurt again, next time irreparably, and an odd feeling of doubt has been cast upon me. There's no telling when you will be called back to your world, and what effect that would have on this endeavour."

"I have to be there for this to succeed," I told him darkly, the words of Irmo himself echoing in my head.

...But just as his soul lived on before the One was destroyed, so then does Morgoth, kept alive by the roots of all evil... 

"What do you mean?" he asked, catching on to the furtive way I glanced around the table. I looked at Arwen, Faewyn, Maldor, and Eldarion, who were all looking expectantly at me.

"I feel that the stars mean something for me to have the mark of Irmo. In some way, my fate is tied with that of...of this fellowship." I said, trying to find a way to say something without giving anything away. Arwen nodded.

"She has a valid point, Legolas. There's know way to know—"

Everyone froze as voices were heard in the hallway.

"—east of Ithillien," someone was saying.

"Yes, my Lord," answered the guard outside in the hall. The ornate doors swung open and a man walked in. The queen stood up suddenly.

"Mae govanen, melin nin (Well met, my love)" he said, in Sindarin. "I missed you greatly, it pleases me you have returned," she replied, smiling.

Obviously, this was the king Aragorn, heir of Isildur.

She rose to greet him, but although I don't remember him ever moving, Legolas was there already.

"Le sulion," Aragorn exclaimed gleefully at seeing his friend.

"Well met indeed, mellon nin," Legolas said, clapping him on the shoulder good-naturedly. "Two years is far too long," Aragorn said sternly, though his eyes laughed.

"Goheno nin sa han (I'm sorry about that)," Legolas said.

"You'll have to tell me about it later," Aragorn said.

Although it was clear he was aging, he still looked to be in his early forties, something which was obviously untrue as I knew him to be of Númenorean descent.

"Gi nathlam hí (You are welcome here)," King Aragorn said, striding towards us.

"Le sulion, hir vuin," I said politely. Maldor echoed my greeting and Faewyn nodded from her place at the table.

"A, Ada!" Eldarion said, shyly walking up to his father. "Man agoreg? Prestad?"

Aragorn chuckled and tousled his son's hair.

"So many questions, ionneg," he replied, switching back to Westron. "Legolas, who are your companions?"

"It is a lengthy tale, mellon nin," Legolas said ruefully, looking at us. "But in short, they are Maldor, son of Melnir, and Faewyn, daughter of Calathir, and the Lady Gianna."

I inclined my head.

Aragorn smiled at us and bade us sit with him anew at his table.

"Tell me," he said as he sat down. "What bade you come to Minas Tirith?" Nobody said anything until I realised Legolas looking at me expectantly.

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