Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

Black arrows, rust covered tips with burned feather ends; they flew through the air so slowly. As if they were unsure of their destination, they floated higher and then lower, fluxuating and changing with every passing moment. My body was an outside party; only my consciousness resided in this realm. Trees appeared as the backdrop to the arrow, familiar trees that were rooted into a familiar leaf-covered ground. And still there was no coherent recognition.

Only when the arrows began to edge closer to the faint outline of a familiar man did I begin to panic. Boromir, my captain of Gondor, knelt on the ground in the midst of dead orcs and pools of his own blood. I wished for nothing more than to run to him and save him. Prevent him from meeting the fate I knew was coming. I called to him, again and again, but I had no voice. I could not move, for I had no body. No legs to jump before him, no back to shield the arrows, no arms with which to hold him. Slower and slower the arrows flew, his eyes rising to see his oncoming doom. They closed slowly, lids covering the objects of my nightmare. His eyes, the cold orbs that rest somewhere over the falls of Rauos. And then, in a second of horrible horrible fate, the arrows pierced through his armour, diving deep into his still beating heart.

I felt it, the force of it pushing the abstract concept of my body backwards. I collapsed onto the ground in time with Boromir, my hand moving with his to the pain in my chest. Last moments escaped his mouth in gurgled breaths, what could have been a call for help coming moments too late. He died, alone.

I woke with a start, clutching my chest where the pain still lingered and trying to separate reality from fabrication. My cheeks were stained with tears that fell to the floor as I turned to the side on my makeshift bed. The room was full of the gentle snores from all the other men who resided here. Curling up against the pillow, I knew that sleep would not come easily again. Silently I got to my feet, stepping around the numerous bodies until I reached the door. I slipped through it, wandering out into the cold night.

The stone froze the bottoms of my feet and the wind nipped at any exposed skin it could find. My mind was racing with a hundred thoughts, my heart overwhelmed with a phantom pain embodied in the form of guilt. Perhaps all of this was wrong. Perhaps I would be right to forget all about the ranger from the north. Leave now, while I still could. Flee to Gondor, fight there, die there. Or perhaps I could even follow Frodo into Mordor, aid him in any way I could.

Aragorn must have had dreams of Arwen. It was impossible to escape the past, especially those who had had one’s heart. And even if he had found the strength to accept her departure, to move forward, one day Aragorn would be king. This much I knew for certain. And eventually he would need a queen, one who would be strong enough to lead the realm of Gondor in his absence.

Èowyn would make a perfect queen. Her determination to protect her people, her unparalleled beauty, her compassion, her kindness: a shield maiden of Rohan wedding the king of Gondor, there was naught more appropriate. I sighed, my arms around my body as I sat on the ledge of the stone platform and curled my legs up against me. My head lay buried in my lap until a hand rested on my shoulder.

I looked up at Legolas, taking his hand as he helped me up. The faint smile on his face faded as he saw the distress in mine. His eyes flew back and forth in a haphazard fury as if the answer to his questions were hidden on my skin. I tried to turn from him but he turned me back, searching even harder. I blinked out a few tears, casting down my eyes as I mustered the courage to speak.

“Dolen i vâd o nin” I breathed, collapsing into a fit of tears as he pulled me into his arms. My path is hidden from me. I thought of how greatly this elf cared for me, how flawlessly he protected me and how in-tune he was with all of my thoughts and emotions. No doubt even now he somehow could tell, just from those words, what I was talking about, what had woken me, and all that I was thinking. I wondered, did I really have the courage to leave him behind once more?

The doors of the hall opened, and I pulled away from Legolas. Aragorn was coming towards us, and I rushed to wipe my tears. Legolas took the cloak from his shoulders and draped it around me, placing a kiss on my forehead as Aragorn came up beside him. The three of us fell into silence, looking out across the plains of Rohan to where Barad-Dûr stood in the distant land of Mordor.

"The stars are veiled.” Legolas said at last. “Something stirs in the East. A sleepless malice. The Eye of the enemy is moving."

I turned to him, worried at the sight of his growing panic. It was a subdued panic, as if he was seeing something he could not understand. What was even more disturbing was that a feeling slowly began to grow over me: it was a shadow-like feeling, as if something was creeping up behind me but I could not turn to see it. There was evil in it, and it began to press in from all sides.

“What is that?” I whispered, fearing as I was gently lulled into the dark.

“He is here.” Legolas said gravely. There was a moment before I realized who he spoke of, but as soon as I understood my feet were fleeing for the door. Frantically I made my way back to the communal sleeping chamber, wretching open the door and freezing at the sight.

Pippin lay on the floor, the palantír glued to his hands and full of horrific images of flames. But not mere flames, this was the fire-ridded eye of Sauron. The hobbit’s eyes were squeezed shut, gurgles of pain escaping his agape mouth. I ran to him, determined to free his mind from the enemy’s grip; yet steps away from the hobbit I was thrown out of the way as Aragorn took hold of the palantír and ripped it from Pippin’s hands. Pippin fell limp as Merry ran to his side, and after a few seconds of gripping the palantír Aragorn lost consciousness and collapsed backwards. The orb began to roll, the many awakened men edging away to avoid it as Gandalf sprung to his feet.

“Fool of a Took!” Gandalf roared, throwing a blanket over the palantír and crossing over to the hobbit. I turned to Aragorn, placing my hands on either side of his face in panic as I tried to stir him. Gandalf beckoned for the terrified hobbit to look at him as Aragorn fluttered back to consciousness. We locked eyes for a moment before I hastily removed my hands and turned to the hobbit, crawling over beside Merry and resting my hand on his shoulder as Pippin shook.

“Gandalf…Forgive me!” He tried to turn away, but the wizard forced him to look him in the eyes.

“What did you see?”

“A tree…There was a white tree in a courtyard of stone…it was dead! The city was burning.”

“Minas Tirith, is that what you saw?” Gandalf pressed as my heart sunk. A whimper of sadness escaped my lips as I pictured the sight in my mind. Everything I’d known, the only place I could ever call home, it would burn.

“I saw…I saw him!” The hobbit cried. “I could hear his voice in my head.”

“And what did you tell him?” Gandalf questioned, shaking Pippin for an answer. “Speak!”

“He asked me my name…I didn’t answer…He hurt me!”

“What did you tell him about Frodo and the ring?”

The room was deafeningly silent as we all waited for the hobbit to speak, a hundred different possibilities arising in our heads depending on the answer of Peregrin Took. He looked almost confused, as if he truly could not recall the answer, but eventually he produced a reassuring answer.

“Nothing…I said nothing.”

There was a long moment where Gandalf stared into the eyes of the hobbit, searching for something while the rest of us held our breath. At long last the wizard rose, exhaling a breath before stepping away. Merry was quick to tend to his shaken friend, lightly cracking jokes about his curiosity.

“Send for the king.” Gandalf ordered. “There is a call for action.”

I stayed at Pippin’s side while the other men disappeared through doors until it was just us left. I looked on at the hobbits, these profound creatures of child-like innocence and loyalty, matched with frivolity of a grown man, and the stomach of five. I thought of how gravely it would pain me to only see them in visions. How would I know they were safe if I was miles away? It was then I gave serious consideration of practicing with the full extent of my powers. If I could see into the future, surely I could peer into the present?

Pippin turned to me wearily, only with the support of the pillows beneath it as if a weight was holding him down. He asked me quietly about my powers. He asked if I could look into the future, if I could tell if what he saw was true or not. It was a difficult thing to reply to, but at long last I explained how difficult it was for me to control, but I made a promise that I would work on it until I could answer his question appropriately.

Some time had passed, and as the sun began to wash in through the windows Legolas came to my side. He told me of the meeting that was being held in the main hall and how I should accompany him there. I smiled, shaking my head.

“These are words meant for those with a great deal of importance to the happenings. They will no doubt speak of battle plans and important decisions that need making—neither of which could or should be influenced by the silly thoughts of a foolish stable girl who thought running away was the answer to all things…”

“Vanya,” He said, softer than before, nudging for my attention. “You speak naught of the truth. Come.”

I sighed, bidding the hobbits to follow as I begrudgingly followed the elf. To argue with him would be a pointless task, that much I knew. In the main hall there stood Théoden, Gandalf and Aragorn. The group of us joined, Pippin taking a seat on one of the chairs as Merry stood beside him. After a moment’s silence, Mithrandir spoke.

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes. A fool… but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring." Gandalf began as I sighed in relief."We've been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the palantír a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing: he knows the heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed; there is courage still, strength enough perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle-Earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a King return to the throne of men. If the Beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

"Tell me…” Théoden said quietly from across the room. “Why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

"I will go." Aragorn said hastily.

"No!" Gandalf cried out.

"They must be warned!"

"They will be.” Gandalf crossed over to Aragorn, and continued in a quieter voice. “You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river and look to the black ships."And then, to everyone. "Understand this: things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith. And I won't be going alone."