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inzilbethI've thought of changing the title of this story but have decided to keep it as it does more or less cover what it's about. I have decided though to alter some of the chapter titles so that they better reflect aspects of Aragorn. 'Thengel's Mare' now becomes 'The Horseman', 'The Meeting' becomes 'The Wizard's Pupil', and so on. I mention this as today I've got the first chapter up on SoA and some of the chapters will have different titles when they appear there.
I'm really quite thrilled to have got my story on SoA and it's in no small measure due to all the support and encouragement I've recieved here on the LJ. So I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone for leaving such kind comments and special thanks to Cairstiona for giving me the kick up the behind I needed to get me out of my hobbit-hole in the first place!
Disclaimer: No profit will be made from these stories. All quotes from the works of J.R.R.Tolkien are reproduced here without the permission of The Tolkien Estate or New Line Cinema. No copyright infringement is intended.
To Cairstiona and Estelcontar: my most grateful thanks for their ongoing encouragement and support.
And thanks to Cairstiona for the beta.
Chapter 11: part 1 Flight of the Eagle
Thorongil often counselled Ecthelion that the strength of the rebels in Umbar was a great peril to Gondor, and a threat to the fiefs of the south would prove deadly if Sauron moved to open war. At last he got leave to gather a small fleet….
Appendix A Return of the King
“We must act soon, my lord; it would be folly to delay any longer.” Thorongil’s voice was rising as he stopped himself slamming his fist on the table in frustration. He and Ecthelion were studying the map laid out before them on the great desk in Ecthelion’s study, but it did not seem to the captain that he was any nearer persuading the Steward of the need for urgency in removing this threat to Gondor’s borders.
“I know we have discussed this before, Thorongil,” said Ecthelion, “but I can not commit the forces that would be needed for such a mission as this, especially on what, I have to say, does seem the scantest evidence. We do not know the Corsairs are planning to attack Lebennin and the Ethir.”
“We do not need to know, my lord,” said Thorongil, with all the patience he could muster; “it is enough, surely that they could take these fiefs if they chose to do so? If Mordor assaulted our eastern border, we could not also defeat a fleet from Umbar in open battle; a campaign by stealth now is our best hope.”
Ecthelion considered his captain’s plan again. It was audacious at the very least and undeniably risky; if it failed it was quite conceivable that none of the troops would return alive. He then looked at his captain standing beside him, his face slightly flushed, eyes blazing; daring him to refuse him again. In the twelve years he had known Thorongil, he had come to trust him above all others. The man had never failed him and it was obvious how eagerly he wanted to do this. Any captain other than Thorongil, he would have refused outright, but if he really believed he could pull this off, then perhaps he was wrong to doubt him.
At length he sighed and said: “If you can destroy the Corsair fleet at its moorings in Umbar with just half a dozen ships and three hundred men, then you have my blessing to undertake this venture.”
Thorongil’s face lit up and he beamed at his Steward. “Thank you, my lord; I can be ready to leave in two days.” But as he took his leave, Ecthelion put out his hand to stop him.
“Thorongil, if this goes ill you will be beyond my aid,” he said quietly. “Be careful son.”
Thorongil nodded. “I will, I promise.” Then he left to break the news to his men.
~oo0oo~
Thorongil had no difficulty attracting volunteers. None elected to remain behind. Preparations were swiftly underway, although all activity was kept as secret as possible; spies had been known to thwart excursions before. Rations for part of the ten day mission were procured from within the city, but the rest of the supplies would be taken on board when the ships docked briefly at Pelargir.
The day after his conversation with Ecthelion, when he was alone in his rooms on the
“Gandalf!” cried Thorongil, in delight at seeing his old friend again. “This is a surprise and a timely one at that, for I leave on the morrow.”
“So I have heard,” said Gandalf, taking Thorongil’s hand. “But then arriving at precisely the right moment is something of a skill of mine.”
Thorongil laughed, “I have noticed. I can assume there is a good reason for your visit then. It has been over a year, my friend, since last you came this way.”
“There is indeed a good reason for my visit,” said Gandalf, removing his hat and settling himself down; “but all in good time. How about a bite to eat first? I have ridden a long way.”
“Of course, I’m sure I can find you something,” said Thorongil, knowing he could never hurry the wizard, although, as always, he was hoping Gandalf brought news from Rivendell and the North.
As Gandalf ate, he told Thorongil the news, such as it was. It seemed that little had changed with his foster family and the Dunedain were much as they always were. It was a relief, as ever, to hear that his people were managing without him, but it did not prevent a wave of guilt assailing him as he was reminded once again that his prolonged absence would not be helping their situation in the slightest.
When Gandalf had eaten his fill, he produced a pouch from under his robes and gave it to Thorongil. The wizard tried not to think of it as a peace offering, but he was aware that what he had come to say may not be well received.
Thorongil opened the pouch and sniffed.
“Longbottom, if I am not mistaken,” he said with a grin.
“I’m glad your senses remain as sharp as ever,” said Gandalf, smiling back at him. Thorongil filled his pipe before offering the pouch back to Gandalf. They then sat together in companionable silence for many minutes enjoying their favourite pipeweed. As Gandalf drew on his pipe and relaxed, he studied his pupil thoughtfully. He had changed. Although he was still young, he was a boy no longer; it was a mature man that sat on the opposite side of the table to him now. He noticed he carried himself with the confidence of one who has earned the respect and admiration afforded him. Gandalf knew all about the captain’s reputation within the City and was well pleased with what he had achieved in his time here.
At last the anticipation of trying to guess the reason for Gandalf’s visit became too much for Thorongil and he cracked.
“All right, Gandalf, you had better tell me. What is this all about?”
Gandalf put down his pipe and looked the man in the eye. “It’s about you, my dear boy,” he said, “and what you do next.”
“You know that. I am leaving tomorrow for Umbar.”
“And after that?” asked Gandalf, his voice suddenly serious. “You have been in this city over twelve years. That is a long time in the life of a
Thorongil was shocked at the direction of Gandalf’s words and feared where they was leading.
And Gandalf knew what he had to say next would not be welcome.
“It is time to leave.”
He was right; the wizard’s words stung. This was not what Thorongil wished to hear. He did not reply right away; he took a few moments to compose his argument.
“My time here has been good,” he said at last. “I have worked hard to earn my position and the regard in which I believe I am held. I think, perhaps, the time may soon be right for me to reveal my true identity.” He hesitated momentarily as he saw Gandalf’s eyebrow shoot up, before continuing regardless. “Ecthelion is old now and Denethor must soon succeed him. While I have the Steward’s respect and friendship, it is not so with his son. Ecthelion might accept me as Isildur’s Heir, but Denethor never will. If it is indeed my fate to reclaim the kingship, I should act soon or it will be too late. I may never have such a chance again.”
Gandalf took a long drag on his pipe before replying. He had never advocated claiming the crown at this time and he suspected that a simple longing to remain in the city he had come to call home might be at the root of Thorongil’s desire to do so now.
“The time is not right, although I can see how it might seem otherwise,” he said at last. “The army, I imagine, is yours for the taking and I suspect the people of the city would welcome you, especially if you had the blessing of the Steward, but this is a large realm and your name means little in some of the more remote regions. Would you risk civil unrest if your claim was not accepted by all? Would you be prepared to stretch the loyalty of the army to subdue those that opposed you? And there is another consideration. If you declare yourself now you risk bringing the wrath of Sauron down hard upon Gondor. He would surely want to crush a new king before he reached his full strength. Would you wish this upon these people? And, as you must know, if Gondor falls, there will then be none with the strength to stand against the Dark Lord.”
Thorongil sighed, realising the validity of those arguments for he had long considered them himself. “Of course I do not wish for any of these things and I can see the wisdom of your council. But if I am not to do this, then why do you say I should leave? I have work to do here.”
“Of course you do,” said Gandalf. “But there is still much that needs to be done elsewhere and you have other duties to attend to that you should not neglect.”
Anger flared in Thorongil at that, but with well-practiced restraint he replied as civilly as he could. “Gandalf, I have spent the last thirty years in the service of others. I risk my neck almost daily to try to keep these lands safe and free from evil. What more would you have me do?”
Gandalf immediately reached over and gripped his friend’s arm.
“Forgive me, Aragorn,” he said softly. “I did not intend to imply criticism.”
Thorongil softened at the use of his true name; a name hardly anyone but Gandalf ever called him. He had now been Thorongil for far longer than he had been Aragorn.
“I can not see all ends,” continued Gandalf, “but I do not believe your time is yet come. Something forewarns me that you should wait, that a means unlooked for at present may yet reveal itself. I have spoken to Elrond of this and found that we are in agreement. Sauron would destroy you, Aragorn, if you made your existence known to him now.”
Aragorn silently got up from the table and moved to the window that overlooked the Pelennor Fields. He loved standing there, watching the ordinary day-to-day happenings of the realm far below. It brought him a sense of purpose and fueled his resolve to achieve what he did. Although he missed the North and knew he would return sometime, he was happy in this city; it had become his home.
And yet he knew in his heart that Gandalf was right. He had already begun to reconsider his position here as the time when Denethor would succeed his father was fast approaching. He did not think he could serve this man. Although their rivalry had never openly surfaced, Aragorn strongly suspected that Denethor had guessed who he really was. That incident with his ring had played on his mind greatly. He had no doubt that once his father was dead, Denethor would find some way to dispense with his services. He had hoped this signaled that his time to reclaim the crown was drawing nigh. He had not yet given serious consideration to leaving, but he could see now he had no choice.
He turned back to face Gandalf.
“What would you have me do?” he asked.
“Travel into the East,” said Gandalf. “I have never been there and I can not go now; I am needed elsewhere, but you could go. The Dark Lord works his evil in many ways, but we do not know all that passes there. To know of his plots and devices would be a great aid in our fight against him. It will be dangerous, but I can trust this venture to no other.”
Aragorn nodded. “Very well, it will be as you ask.”
“Thank you,” said Gandalf, but it saddened him to see how grim the man had become suddenly.
“I do not think you will need to stay too long,” he said, trying to bring him some cheer, “perhaps little more than a year would suffice for our needs, then I am sure the Dunedain of the North would welcome seeing their Chieftain again.”
He was rewarded with a smile, but Aragorn felt the now familiar twisting of his insides as his world collapsed around him again. But this time there was not even the consolation of having new places to visit and new adventures to look forward to.
He had no wish to see Mordor and the adventures he knew he would find there held no appeal at all.