Dreams of Power [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Tar-Mëonis

Eldarion woke with a start. He found his sister Sídhil at his door which confused him since it was still dark out, though the moon was low. He looked back at the young girl.

"Father needs you, immediately." Sídhil's face contorted in sad confusion. "Says there's a visitor."

"Go wake Aderthon," Eldarion nodded groggily.

Sídhil chuckled lightly. "Already on my way." She left her big brother to dress. She was glad he hadn't asked why she was awake.

Slipping on a nice shirt and strapping on his sword, Eldarion struggled only with finding his shoes. At last he located them and slipped them on quickly.

When he reached the throne room of the citadel, he found Aragorn there with several guards and two Easterling soldiers. He looked troubled but his face lightened up seeing his son.

"Aderthon's coming," Eldarion told his father, watching the Easterlings with hesitant curiosity and mild distrust.

As he finished saying this, the man himself appeared behind them in a hurry. He wore Galmegil, the famed sword of his mother, at his side. "Sorry. Sídhil just found me."

"If we are all here," spoke one of the Easterlings in the common tongue, his accent thick, "then we should be going. Best not keep my Lady waiting."

Aragorn nodded and together with his son and nephew, followed by five guards, followed the Easterling soldiers through the city gates one by one until they came to the main gate. With a nod at the gatekeepers, the huge iron and mithril doors were swung open. What they saw amazed them.

A woman with long black hair, longer than any Aderthon had ever seen, stood next to a cart. The cart contained two bodies. He and Eldarion recognized both.

"Ai!" Aderthon gave a cry, not able to contain himself. For one body was Barahir's, and the other, Halion's.

"Before you do anything rash, son of Elrohir, listen to my tale." The woman held up her hand as she noted he gripped the hilt of Galmegil.

Aragorn glared at her. "Speak, woman. For you bear ill news to us."

"I am Tar-Mëonis, new Queen of Rhûn. I overthrew Halion, my former master, less than three months ago." Berúthiel began her made up tale. "It was too late for your poor friend however. The bastard Halion had already murdered him. I killed Halion to prove that all I wish is peace."

"How do you we know your tale is true," Eldarion bit back.

"Why else would I risk my life by bringing you both bodies?" She gestured to them. "I did not take an army with me, as I could have had I wanted war. Instead I brought only good will."

Aragorn looked long and hard at the woman before him, as she stood there clothed in a pale pink dress and a black crown. He knew something was wrong. He did not believe her story one bit, but he knew also that the southern Reunited Kingdom did not have the forces to combat Rhûn if this was indeed their new Queen. It was only fourteen years since they had lost a significant amount of forces in the Battle for Arnor. The army was still being rebuilt.

"We accept your peace offering, Tar-Mëonis," Aragorn began slowly. "Perhaps this will be a new era of peace between our peoples."

Eldarion and Aderthon look at their king incredulously. Both also figured her story was fabricated. Yet they bit their tongues. They knew their places.

Berúthiel nodded with a small smile. "Perhaps." She bowed her head slightly.

"You are welcome to stay the night, if you so wish it?" Aragorn offered. "We would be honored to host the Queen of Rhûn."

Berúthiel considered this. She looked between the men before her and the gates behind them. "Very well. I accept. Thank you, King Elessar."

Aragorn took her hand and led her through the gates before dropping it. It was an awkward walk for the son and nephew of the King, as they were sure it was for Aragorn himself. Aderthon looked closely at this "Tar-Mëonis" and noted the odd necklace she wore. It was the shape of a cat sitting straight up, and it had a catseye for the head. On her hand also was a ring, one of intertwined serpents. It reminded him a bit of the Ring of Barahir.

The sun was rising by the time they escorted Tar-Mëonis up to the citadel. Queen Arwen and Lady Amdirien were there having breakfast with the five suitors. All stood upon the King's entry.

"This is the throne room of Minas Tirith," he motioned to her. "And here we have my wonderful wife, Queen Arwen, and my eldest daughter, Lady Amdirien."

Berúthiel looked them over with fake care, in fact rather unimpressed as it were. Especially with the other women at the table. For Halion had told her stories of The Council and their seductresses. Here indeed were four at least.

"These are our guests," Arwen smiled upon being introduced to "Tar-Mëonis". "Lady Cwen of Dunland, Lady Alodia of Rohan, Ladies Morwen and Nemir of our own Kingdom, and Lady Adira of Harad."

"A pleasure, truly," smirked Berúthiel.

She didn't need any man to show her around the Throne room. She had sat upon this throne, and she would again. Her memories from her previous life were perfectly in tact, especially those of her days fiddling with her engagement ring.

Tarannon, her husband to be and hated enemy, wandered away at last from the loveless conversation they had been sharing in her bedroom. While Berúthiel planned to live not in Minas Tirith, but in Osgiliath, she was well acquainted with this White City.

Tarannon had gifted her the ring not long ago, in token of his intention to join their houses. As a member of the Black Numenoreans, as Gondor called them, she was often mistrusted and looked down upon by the people of Minas Tirith.

They aren't wrong to be the first, she often thought.

Tarannon, the fool that he was, has given her a beautiful ring from a horde of the First Age. Berúthiel still wasn't sure how he had gotten a Ring of Power, but she was sure he didn't know it was a Ring of Power. Especially one like it was. Somehow, this ring's power had been cleansed of an evil influence, but the original intent still remained if one knew the proper rituals and incantations.

Fortunately, she did. Black magic was her purview after all. All it was going to take was a little blood, a sacrifice, and some words of power. Then, she would become bound to the Ring, never able to be killed as long as she wore it.

And so that is exactly what she did.

The glares Berúthiel received from four of the suitors did not escape her as she greeted each of them in turn. Oh yes, they knew who she was. They knew, and they were afraid.