Dreams of Power [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Unease

Ambi looked at Fëalas suspiciously. He knew of the House of Fëanoriel, everyone did. That house was the second most respected manish house in all the lands of the Free Peoples, behind only the House of Telcontar, the house of the King. But that did not mean he felt comfortable around them. This niece of the king had far too much elvish blood for his liking.

“Ambi, son of Frórin, at your service.” He bowed to the two Gondorians.

“Fëalas, daughter of Elrohir, at yours and your family’s.” She bowed deeply to him, and Elboron followed.

Elboron smiled. “Ambi, Nîm, we look forward to having you in Minas Tirith.”

“It is good to see you again,” Nîm nodded with a small grin. “I am eager to see your home.”

“King Elessar will welcome kinsman of Lord Gimli,” Elboron said in reply. Then he turned to Ambi. “And a kinsman of King Thorin Stonehelm is welcome also, of course.”

“When do we leave for Minas Tirith?” Ambi turned his question to his lord, Gimli.

“That is up to these two,” replied Gimli with a sweeping gesture towards them. “Did you have an idea?”

“As soon as we can ” Fëalas leaned closer. “I fear there are dark days coming, lord. Rhûn is pressuring the borders and though their new queen has assured us peace, Círeth has gone North and East to ensure it.”

“I had heard some news of Barahir’s death. But no details.” Gimli leaned in. “What can you tell me?”

The two citizens of the Reunited Kingdom exchanged glances. Finally Elboron spoke up. “My brother's body, and the body of Halion were brought to us by a woman claiming to be the new Queen of Rhûn. She went by Tar-Mëonis.”

“That is a Quenya name?” Gimli leaned back in his chair in confusion. “And do not the men of Rhûn have Emperors, not Kings?”

Elboron nodded. “Right on both accounts, lord. We do not trust Tar-Mëonis, but the forces of Rhûn are superior at the moment. Lord Aragorn is buying time while we figure out what is actually going on.”

Gimli shook his head. “Strange tidings indeed. Let Aragorn know that we are here as allies should he need us. Our axes are still sharp despite the long years of peace!” He turned to the silent Ambi and Nîm. “Go, prepare your things for the journey to Minas Tirith. You will leave in the morning.”

Both dwarves bowed quickly and went from the room. Fëalas sighed and rubbed her forehead in weariness. It was odd to see her without a hint of smile, and both Elboron and Gimli could feel the weight of her stress in the air.

“Círeth will be fine, Fëalas,” Elboron assured her.

But Fëalas shook her head. “It is odd, feeling like this. I have never felt such a lack of her presence before. Even when we went to Harad and she stayed on the borders of Rhûn, I knew she was safe.” She pushed some stray hair out of her face. “This is different. She is riding into danger. I can feel it.”

Rhûn

The trees in the North East of Gondor stood tall and dark. Large pines with deep green needles for leaves rose up high. The year waned, it was nearly October. The wind cut through the forest like a sharp knife, and few birds sang.

A large contingent of Dúnedain, thirty-seven in number, were stationed in this section of the forest. Their hideout stood just before the foot of the Mountains of Rhûn, where the trees wrapped around in a massive, unmapped forest. Kastala, the capital of Rhûn, stood many hundreds of miles away upon the shores of the Sea of Rhûn.

Suddenly a great bustling was heard as a shout went up from the guards of the cave entrance. “Captain’s here!”

The tall red-haired half elf strode inside, leaving her horse with another ranger. She looked around, throwing her cloak hood back. The rain outside had drenched her and she was in a foul mood.

“There better be some of the Dorwinion wine left, Alagos,” she muttered to her second in command as he approached her.

The tall, dark haired man softly chuckled. “There is. Good to have you back, Captain.”

Círeth let herself send him a wry smile. But it fell moments later as she looked around. Her ranger company busied themselves. Some whittled arrows, others organized their stock of food. Farther inside the cave system she heard rather than saw some of her men practicing their sword fighting.

“Barahir is dead,” Círeth said to Alagos quietly. “Killed by either Halion or the new Queen of Rhûn. Either way, we are to step up activity.”

Alagos nodded. He followed his captain deeper into the caves and down a left tunnel. There was no fear of getting lost as the rangers knew these tunnels even in the dark, and a great many torches remained lit. Finally they came to the side room Círeth used as her bedroom. A wooden bed and a large table with maps stood as the only furniture.

“I want to watch the village more closely,” Círeth told her commander, pointing to a red “X” on the map. “They are the closest settlement and may have news.”

Alagos agreed with her. “While you have been away, I doubled patrols. We haven't encountered the black rangers of last time, however.”

Círeth nodded and put her finger on the marked spot of where the ambush and her encounter with the ranger had been. “My search in Gondor proved useful for that at least. They are called the Coven of Vultur, an ancient illegal cult who seek to destroy any influence of the Enemy in their lands.”

“Interesting,” Alagos murmured. “Allies perhaps?”

“More like an enemy of our enemy,” she corrected quickly.

Alagos sighed. “At least they are not friends of the enemy.” Then he looked at Círeth closely. “Who is our enemy, Captain?”

She tossed her cloak onto her bed before answering. “Unknown, unfortunately. Tar-Mëonis certainly, but who she is we simply do not know.”

“Why would a leader of Rhûn take a name in the fashion of Numenor?” Alagos leaned against the cave wall. “That makes little sense.”

“Even more concerning was her story. She claimed Barahir had been killed by Halion, but the body was too well preserved.” She sighed.

“So she lied?” Alagos nodded. “That is unsurprising.”

“Or.” Círeth’s frown deepened. “Or she is a practitioner of Black Magic.”

Alagos muttered a prayer to Elbereth under his breath. He looked at Círeth. “And you believe the latter, I take it?”

“I do not know what to think,” she admitted.

Alagos frowned. “Rest, Círeth. You're journey here must've been swift. I will see that the next patrol is made aware of the situation.”

“Good.” She nodded. “Let us hope the rain dies down soon. It is bitterly cold with the wind.”

Alagos left her to change out of her soaking wet clothes. She laid her clothes out to dry and changed into a loose shirt and pants to sleep in. She closed the door of her cavern room and blew out the candles, falling into darkness and slumber.