Quiet Preparation

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Aderthon and Eldarion stood together, side by side, watching their soldiers train. Both commanders had their own hand-picked guard squadron. These soldiers were considered the most elite warriors on the battlefield in all of the Reunited Kingdom. Aderthon personally trained them all, drawing on what he'd been taught from his mother and father who in turn had been taught by Glorfindel the balrog slayer. Eldarion helped train them, for his mastery of the sword matched Aderthon's own, but more often than not he was busy learning kingship from Aragorn.

"Are you prepared," Eldarion asked his cousin quietly. At Aderthon's confused expression he explained further. "To go to war again, I mean."

"I enjoy the thrill of battle, but I do not desire it. Especially not so close to Minas Tirith's people." Aderthon sighed and watched his men more closely. "I am glad to have a name to match the face of our enemy. Berúthiel shall die by our hands, for Elboron's sake, and Faramir's and Finduilas and Eowyn's too. We will right the wrongs Halion has continued to do."

"At least that monster is dead," Eldarion added quickly.

Aderthon nodded, his fist clenched in fury. "If we had slain him in Arnor, this would've all been avoided." He paced forward furiously and swung his sword. "Faervel! With me."

The brown haired man nodded and brought his sword up to block Aderthon's incoming attack. Their dulled swords clanged on impact and Faervel shuddered beneath Aderthon's blow. But he knew his commander well enough to respond in kind. He leapt backwards and swung at Aderthon's side. As expected, the half-elf caught the swing and returned it.

Eldarion watched him, shaking his head. Aderthon's fury was legendary. When he was angry, it took much to calm him down. The prince did not envy Faervel's position. As he stood there watching, a quiet laugh sounded behind him near the gate to the training grounds. He turned to find Nimwing there in a white tunic and cloak. Eldarion smiled and walked the distance to where she stood.

"Hello," Eldarion said pleasantly. "What brings you here?"

"I was curious as to what all the loud noises were about. Aderthon looks quite furious," she replied. Then she paused and frowned. "King Elessar briefed all the ambassadors on the situation. We face a grave threat."

Eldarion nodded. "Indeed we do. But we will be ready, and we will not let the White City fall."

"I have faith in her two commanders," Nimwing agreed, "and her King."

"Your faith in us is appreciated," Eldarion replied with a smile.

She bowed to him. "I will let you return to training." Nimwing bid him farewell and left to go up a level to the ambassadors' houses.

As she left, Círeth and Fëalas passed her by with a quick nod. The twins quickly found their way to the gate, opened it, and went inside. Eldarion turned in surprise when he heard the gate creak open, but smiled when he saw the newcomers. Aderthon stopped his sparring with Faervel, much to the man's relief, and approached them. A frown adorned his face which did not move even upon seeing his sisters.

"What do you need?" Aderthon asked, sheathing his sword. He saw their frowns and shot them his own glare. "Do not lecture me on how I deal with my anger right now."

"You are going to hurt your men if you keep this up," Círeth rebuked him.

Her older brother snarled angrily but said no more, folding his arms. Eldarion turned to the twins and nodded. "What did you need from us?"

"Fëalas seemed to believe you would have foolish notions of revenge after what Halion did," Círeth deadpanned, facing her brother, "but that isn't true, is it?"

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