Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

The night pressed in on all sides like an entity, taking hold of the morale of all the men and casting an eerie quiet on the camp. It was an odd feeling, standing on the brink of war. When the sun peaked over the lowest mountain, when dawn fell, six thousand soldiers would ride to what could very well be the biggest battle of the age. The wind toyed with the edges of the tent, flapping them viciously to and fro as I sat cross legged on my cot. A fly that had slipped into the tent was buzzing around the oil lamp in the corner, hitting the glass over and over and over as if expecting it to disappear if he just hit it once more.

Soon I would need to sleep, or attempt to, but there were grotesque thoughts bouncing around in my head and robbing me of peace. Flashes of the vision I had in Edoras, during my spell with Sauron, kept finding ways into my mind and causing me dread and panic. From my neck I drew one of the three empty vials and calmed myself, pulling the vision from my mind and channelling it into the vial. For a while I watched the vision swirl around in its prison, glowing unnaturally and moving in its state-defying ways.

I jumped, thrown from my trance by the voice of a soldier, his silhouette visible on the other side of the tent. He called to me, saying that the king wished to see me in his quarters. My heart raced and I wondered if this had anything to do with the scene I had caused with Èowyn. Standing and attempting to straighten my hair and clothes, I exited the tent and followed the soldier silently, going over in my head how best to apologize and what he might say.

With a bow the soldier left me at the mercy of Théoden. Hovering outside of the tent for a few moments, I eventually gathered my courage and entered. The king’s eyes snapped to me, his hands behind his back as he stood in the middle of the large tent. It was not until he looked to the corner that I realized someone else was there. At first the cloaked figure had the appearance of a ring wraith and I began to panic, but the longer my gaze lingered I saw the cloak was shining and clean, far too odd an appearance for a creature of Mordor.

“I take my leave.” Théoden said before I had a chance to wonder what the cloaked man was doing there. Becoming very confused, I moved to the side as Théoden left but my attention was brought back to the man as he stood. Pushing back the hood of his cloak I gasped at the sight of Elrond. Without pausing to think of my actions I ran to him, wrapping my arms around him and holding him close.

“Forgive me, Lord Elrond.” My voice cracked as I pulled away, betraying my attempts to keep the tears from leaving my eyes. He held my face in his hands, a sad smile looking down on me as he surveyed my eyes.

“Vanya, manen le gar ahy.” How you have changed. “I can feel your power without calling it. This is good.”

“It has come at a heavy price.” I said gravely, recalling all that had happened since I last saw him: Gandalf, Boromir, the breaking of the fellowship, and all the battles in between. As each image came to my mind’s eye I knew Elrond would see them as well. He motioned for me to sit across from him and I quickly obeyed.

“You have lost all hope.” He said sternly, looking at my eyes but seeing past them. I shifted nervously where I sat, unable to escape his gaze.

“Sauron has spoiled a lot of things.” I said distantly, trying to keep the vision from my mind, from his. “We cannot win this war, will we Elrond?”

He sat quietly for a while, looking at me with a look I could not place. “No, you are too few. But there are others, Vanya. I have come tonight on the brink of battle to give you two things.” He held out his bare hands for me to take, and after scooting to the edge of my chair I placed my hands in his and waited patiently. The longer our skin made contact the more I felt a change, as if a golden sun was beaming down on every inch of me, inside and out. It surged to a peak and then died out, leaving only a faint sensation some place deep within me.

“What was that?” I breathed, going to move my hands but finding them still grasped tightly by Lord Elrond.

“Your mind has been opened, Vanya, to the world around you. It is a rare connection to have, so I must ask you to treat it with care. Your part in this story is not yet over, and they will need you before the end.” For the briefest of moments I saw his eyes in my mind, followed by him saying “Hope.” My eyebrows contorted in confusion as I stared at him blankly, wondering how I heard him without his lips moving. He gave a small nod and after a moment I realized what he had done.

“Does this mean I can speak to you from afar?”

“Yes.” He said quietly, a small smile breaking through his hardened features before he continued speaking. “In a few moment I will give council to Aragorn, and he will leave this camp. You will follow him, Vanya, as you are meant to. Your path is before you now, do not falter from it.”

Before I could question any of what he said, his hands began to glow with a silver tinge and I watched as the colour travelled from his skin to mine; up, up, up until the sight of him was replaced with an unfamiliar setting.

A child runs through a room of stone walls out onto a balcony that overlooks a glittering city and, in the distance, a river turned orange by the fading sunlight. The child runs to the edge, still too small to reach the banister, and looks back with a smile. His eyes are striking, one a familiar pale blue and the other a haunting silver. On his neck hangs the Evenstar pendant, hovering just above the tree of Gondor embroidered onto his shirt. From somewhere in the distance a single word is called, a name: “Eldarion!”

The scene gave way to the browns and beiges of my surroundings, and I sat there with wide eyes as I attempted to fathom the reality of what I had just seen. Elrond withdrew his hands slowly, as if not to startle me, and waited patiently for me to compose myself.

“That…It…Aragorn?” I stuttered incoherently, failing horribly at grasping things. Elrond simply nodded, but I began to furiously shake my head. “Lord Elrond this cannot be. I…I have seen things, things that prove this cannot be true.”

Elrond opened his mouth to respond, but his eyes darted past me at some new disturbance, and turning I saw Aragorn standing, rather abashed, at the entrance before stooping into a bow. There were a hundred things I wished to ask of Lord Elrond, but I knew that my time had run out. I bowed my head and quickly departed, avoiding Aragorn’s eyes completely as I exited the tent and left him to Elrond.

My head was racing with too many thoughts to handle and I tried to settle on what I needed to do first: I had to tell Merry of my imminent departure. I weaved in and out of the many tents, passing many unattended fires and tents full of snores. I stopped in my tracks upon hearing familiar voices.

“You should not encourage him.” Éomer said roughly from his spot by the fire amongst other men. Èowyn stood near him, her gaze on the retreating figure of who could only be Merry.

“You should not doubt him.” She said defiantly, a distantly sad look in her eyes.

“I do not doubt his heart—only the reach of his arm.” Éomer replied lightly, evoking a laugh from the other men. Èowyn turned to her brother with a frown upon her face.

“Why should Merry be left behind? He has as much cause to go to war as you. Why can he not fight for those he loves?” At this, Éomer stood and walked over to her, dropping his voice.

“You know as little of war as that hobbit. When the fear takes him, and the blood and the screams and the horror of battle take hold, do you think he would stand and fight? He would flee, and he would be right to do so. War is the province of men, Èowyn.” She said nothing in response, holding her brother’s gaze for a moment before turning away from him, crossing her arms as she walked back into the cover of the tent.

My feet carried me away from the scene in search of the hobbit, understanding now why it had meant so much to Èowyn that she had a fair fight. She coveted that which I did: the freedom to fight for what I believed in, the ability to defend those who required it and not be a passive female.

“Vanya!” Merry called out from behind me. He was running up to me, fitted with his own set of armor of Rohan, a newly sharpened sword in his grasp. I offered a smile as he stopped before me.

“A true esquire of Rohan.” I mused as he gave a sheepish grin.

“Lady Èowyn gave them to me—well, except the sword of course. It’s still the one from Aragorn. I’ve also got the dagger from Lady Galadriel, it’s over here so I’m all ready for battle!”

“I can see that.” I laughed, but the gesture quickly faded as I recalled the reason I had begun to search for him.

“What? What is it?” He questioned as I looked around for somewhere to speak. There was a tree log nearby situated before an extinguished fire that I beckoned him to.

“Merry…do you trust Èowyn?”

“With my life.” He said wearily, as if some part of him deep down knew what it was I was going to say. I struggled for the right words to say, how to phrase everything properly, but gave up and decided to just be straight.

“I must leave tonight, Merry. Aragorn…his path leads him elsewhere and I must follow.”

“You’re leaving…” He said sadly, his eyes fixed on mine and locking me in a flux of guilt. “Just like Pippin and Frodo and Sam. Everyone leaves, in the end…”

“Merry I am so sorry.” I said quietly, taking his hand in mine. “If wishes ever were a truth than you and the others would all be safe in the Shire and this war would not be happening. But it is not our path. I promise you, I will find you in the end. Stay with Èowyn, she will look after you.”

With a heavy sigh he nodded slowly, hesitating before leaning forward and hugging me. It did nothing to help the difficulty of the matter. With the edge of my sleeve I dabbed at the wet corners of my eyes, placing a kiss on his forehead before standing and returning to my tent without a look back—it would only hurt more. He had been deserted already so many times, and now he was meant to ride into a war much too big for him with only one person to count on.

The night deepened as I found my way back to the tent, to the bed I would never use. Pulling one of the last two free vials from beneath my shirt, I hurried to put the vision of Eldarion away from my mind. Entering the tent, I tucked the necklace away. It took me a moment to realize I was not alone in the enclosement, and my heart skipped a beat before the figure turned to me.

I froze where I stood, face to face with the one person I could not stand to keep eye contact with at the moment. Aragorn held out his hand and after some hesitation I took it. Leading me to the cot, he sat upon its edge and waited for me to follow suit. If Elrond had told him or shown him, I knew not what I would do.

“Brennil ned Bellas.” He mused quietly, reaching up and tucking a stray hair behind my ear. His eyes dropped as he drew breath to speak and I feared for the worst. “Too long have you risked you life protecting others. For too long you have taken charge of the fates of others. It is time, now, for you to seek out safety.”

“What are you saying?” I asked in confusion, subconsciously leaning away from him.

“I do not wish you to take part in this war, Vanya.”

Standing abruptly, I took several steps back from him with a mixture of anger and confusion. He slowly rose as well, taking one step towards me but stopping before advancing any further.

“Well it is not your decision where I live or die, Aragorn, nor who or what I decide to attack.” I said more irritably than I had planned. “Whenever there is a battle it is always the women and children who are hidden away, the women and children who are poor weak souls that need to be hoarded like jewels or gold. What of the men? What of the all the men and boys who are herded like sheep into an army with no chance of escape? Do they not feel fear or sadness? Why can those of us who wish to fight do so, and those who do not seek refuge?” Tears were welling in my eyes as the image of Èowyn flashed across it, followed by the faces of all the boys far too young for battle waiting to die on the towers of Helm’s Deep.

“Vanya it is no matter of control or command,” he began, taking a careful step towards me as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “If I may stop harm from finding you and do not act on it, it would haunt me until my dying day.”

“Aragorn…” I said weakly as my brave demeanour crumbled. He came right up to me and gently placed his hands on either side of my face.

“I would die a thousand times over to keep you safe, to keep you alive and happy.” His voice was entrancingly sincere and I cast my eyes downward so he would not see my tears falling. “Your heart is the place I call home.”

“I am only happy when I am in my place.” I said weakly, reaching a hand up and placing it over his heart. “And my place is here. If I should meet my end then I shall meet it at your side, Aragorn, and nowhere else.”

For a moment I felt as though I was going to be sick, my insides were churning like a violent storm. I had never spoken so freely about how I felt about him, and I panicked at the thought that I had said too much, said the wrong thing. He tilted my head up to look into my eyes for a brief moment before pulling my lips to his, moving one hand to my lower back and the other under my chin. I slid my hands up and around his neck, securing my body against his. My heart fluttered sporadically and I did nothing to try and calm the surging feeling within me. For all of the questionable moments in life, it was like a solid rock that weighed me down to something certain.