The Choices of Mayor Samwise -- III Election (b)
Aragorn was uneasily aware that he wasn’t being altogether reasonable.To have reduced Umbar was a bone-deep satisfaction stretching back to his service as Thorongil, who had all too often had to fight their corsairs, and encompassing the frantic ride they had forced on him in the War of the Ring, with all its consequences. But though in the end the butcher’s bill had been a fraction of what he’d feared, the campaign had been a horror all the same, from the burned-out settlements in Harondor they’d had to pass, giving a grim reality to the news he’d been receiving of Umbari raids, to the final unexpected outcome.
The army he’d raised with help from Faramir, Imrahil, and Éomer had been large enough to overrun all the outer settlements of Umbar easily, securing its farmland as a dozen navy ships blockaded the Neck to forestall both escape and resupply. His own casualties had come taking the outer trenchworks and fortifications of the city, but thereafter it had been a gesture that had worked, not arms, and the mystery of it plucked at him. Where the great tower of Ar-Pharazôn had once stood, on the headland beyond the city, Sauron had built a black tower, as tall and in every way opposite, drinking light rather than giving it. Many of his men had looked up at it with fear and loathing, but Gimli and the dwarves he’d brought with him had just stared and spat aside.
“If that thing was built with any of his power, it would have fallen down, wouldn’t it?”
“I’d think so. The Morannon and Barad-dûr certainly did.”
“Right.”
And without further ado the dwarves had swapped axes for sledgehammers and set off up the headland while he set about investing Umbar completely from the land, and mapping the walls he would have to assail. But only two days later Gimli invited him and Legolas to come up to the black tower, where rubble was piled about the base and a great treetrunk had been set up in a cradle to swing forward when the rope holding it was cut. This Gimli asked Legolas to do with his knife, and when he did and the trunk slammed into and went clean through the base of the tower, the whole thing had shuddered, tottered, and collapsed safely away from everyone watching, into the sea.
“Shoddy work all round,” Gimli had observed with scorn. “Could have come down in any gale, weak as it was.”
The remaining rubble and stones from the base had swiftly followed the rest into the sea, clearing the site down to the remaining white foundation-stones of Ar-Pharazon’s tower, and two nights later he had been roused to be told of cries and the clash of arms coming from the city. Fires had started, painting the low clouds lurid orange, and an hour before dawn the gates had been thrown open to let a few staggering figures forth. Hearing what they had to say he’d let scouts enter, and as the sun had risen followed them himself, with Éomer and Imrahil, to find bloody horror. Everywhere Gondorian, Haradri, Khandian, and Rhûnic slaves had been cut or battered down, but the Umbari had been torn apart, often literally - even women and children ; every ship in the dock and more than half the city had burned. Barely a thousand Umbari survived, barricaded in basements or inner rooms, and perhaps twice that many slaves, all dazed beyond speaking. The pyres had burned for ten days, spreading their sweet stink everywhere as dwarves and men had razed the city wall and the ghastly temple to Sauron in the main square, shattering the blocks, and the whole place had been sluiced with pumped seawater.
Former slaves had been treated so far as he and the army healers were able and those who had homes to go to released with whatever assistance he could provide, while those who hadn’t had been brought back to Minas Tirith to be granted compensation and found a new life. The surviving Umbari men, with those women former slaves had identified as cruel, awaited justice of some kind in a camp in South Ithilien ; the rest of the women and children had stayed in Umbar to work its fields, with a newly installed garrison to watch over them. Some engineers, and several navy ships had also stayed, their commanders and crews intent on making the port what it had been in Gondor’s glory, a great southern base. And all of that was good, very good, despite the horror, and the work entailed, but he still had dreams of what he’d seen that not even finding himself again in Arwen’s arms had assuaged. So he’d thrown himelf into the paperwork that had inevitably accumulated in his absence, though Faramir had kept everything running smoothly, and allowed his impatience with ossified protocol and the self-importance of minor nobles freer reign than was quite wise, however satisfying and expedient in clearing his desk. With that done he’d spent long days in the Houses of Healing and elsewhere helping the former slaves, and despite craving Arwen’s company too many evenings and nights wandering the city incognito, hood up, accompanied only by two Dúnedain guards, listening in inns and night-market to the stories being told of the campaign and the fate of Umbar, for the most part with quiet pain but once or twice with cutting corrections that had folk nodding respectfully and shuffling away.
Then Elladan and Elrohir arrived unexpectedly from Lothlórien, summoned, he strongly suspected, by Arwen, and over a long evening plied him with sufficient wine to spill out the horror and his grief, before putting him to bed and dreamless sleep with sweet songs. The morning after they’d been unnaturally tolerant, letting him nurse his aching head without teasing before briskly taking him off to weapons practice and sweating it out of him, then steering him via a bath to lunch. A number of favorite dishes were on offer, and by the time he’d eaten rather more than usual he’d pulled himself together enough to apologise to Arwen for being a lout, but she only smiled.
“You were in pain and distress, my heart, and I can hardly blame you for not wishing to speak to me of the horrors you had seen. But now you begin to be more at peace there is a letter I have kept from you this while, for Halladan advised me it should not come to you until you were so.”
She slid it from under a side-plate and handed it to him, the familiar hand a surprise.
“From Sam?”
“With an enclosure from young Elanor, I believe.”
“And I wasn’t to … oh. Bother. They must not approve of the ban I proposed.”
“Not your wisest plan, Estel.”
“Halladan doesn’t like it either, whatever he’s said to you.”
“No, I know.” Aragorn scowled. “But I’m not having Rose and Hobbiton bothered by fools and knaves. Nor any perian crushed by drunken tinkers.”
“Why don’t you try reading the letter, my heart?”
“Then there will be the joy of Sam’s Sindarin.”
“Elanor’s too, we may now hope.”
“Really? Sindarin? She’s only, what? Six?”
“Even so. Read.”
The twins watched with bright eyes as Aragorn unfolded the letter, began to read, and stopped, eyebrows rising.
“Aloud, Estel, if you please.”
He scowled at his brothers again, but as they’d read it anyway it wasn’t worth fighting over, and a little penance would do him good. “If you insist.”
“We do.”
“Let’s see, then. Dear Strider, I was going to tell you you’re being a ninnyhammer, but my Elanorella’s done it for me and added a very good question. If you mean to push on with this ban, you’d best have an answer for her she’ll accept - and isolating us as an apology to Mr Frodo won’t be it. Ouch.” He found his fingers drumming on the table and stilled them, then sighed. “He’s sharp, isn’t he?”
“Samwise is an exceptional being.”
“Who wrote more than one paragraph.”
Aragorn took a breath, returning his attention to the letter. “Oh, and if you’re going to peer into Palantíri you’d best look more carefully. Mr Gilminas did no harm … um, however in the sum of things it may be that his head moves up and down?”
Elladan and Elrohir looked at one another, grinning delightedly before Elladan dropped into Westron. “For all he’s a nodcock.”
“Ah. Right.” Aragorn shook his head, but a smile tugged at his mouth. “Did no harm for all he’s a nodcock. Rose and Elanorella liked him. So before you go getting all bebothered, talk to Mr Gilminas yourself, if he’s back. You’ll see in a minute he’s harmless, except for his verse - not a … adhesion? Oh, patch, it must be, not a patch on old Mr Bilbo’s, but he made Elanorella laugh. Huh. It didn’t look to me as if he made Rose laugh much - she seemed startled out of her wits. Still, I could talk to the nodcock, I suppose. The last paragraph’s more serious.”
“It has all been serious, Estel.”
“Anger may colour how you see in a Palantír as much as or more than how you hear face to face.”
“Mmm. Anyway, he goes on, I’m sorry to learn the Umbar campaign was what Mr Halladan called a bad tale, but I’m glad it was mostly someone else’s bad tale, and that it’s over. I’ll hope also that with that settled you and Lady Arwen can plan on coming north at last, and if you think we’ll let you stop at the Brandywine Bridge, think again! I’ll write more when we’ve held the vote you’ve wished on us, and a nice mess that’s going to be, but I’ll tell you now you won’t like the answer no matter how much you’d like to put all the spilt milk back in the jug. Ouch, again. But we’ll see. I’ve not time to give any proper news tonight, but we’re all well, and Rose due any day now. She asked me to send her respects, and I do, with my love. Elanor just asked me to send her letter. That’s it, save the signature. Alas, I am in disgrace, then.”
“So it seems, my heart. And what does Elanor have to say?”
Aragorn opened the second paper with some trepidation but immediately laughed before sobering and frowning. “Dear King Strider, Per-ada says you mean well, wanting the Shire to be safe for Periannath, even though you’re setting about it like a ninnyhammer. But I want to know why, if the Shire’s for Periannath, you want to tell me I can’t ever invite Uncle Damrod to tea again? Your loyal but cross and puzzled servant, Elanor Gamgee.”
The twins were grinning again.
“Per-ada?”
“Sam-dad.”
“Marvellous.”
Aragorn took another deep breath. “Who is Uncle Damrod?”
“Damrod son of Finrod, of the White Company.”
“He was among those who met Sam and Frodo with Gollum at Henneth Annûn, and went north with Halladan.”
“We spoke with him at Sam’s wedding, where he represented Faramir as well as himself, and it was clear they had become friends.”
“Ah. That Damrod.”
“And Sam-dad is right yet again - it is an excellent question.”
“That he has answered correctly twice.”
“Though neither will satisfy Elanor. Actually, Estel, you should go north not least to meet her. That she is a beautiful child, you have seen, and in person she is enchanting.”
“And more. She is beloved of trees.”
“As of all who meet her, not least Glorfindel.”
“Who with us attended her fifth birthday party last year, and says she would seem to be the first mortal to be born an Elf-friend since Nirnaeth Arnoediad.”
Aragorn blinked. “You’re serious?”
“Glorfindel named Rose an Elf-friend on that day.”
“Not only for her cooking.”
“As Daernaneth named Sam, some years back.”
“Not that he quite understood she had.”
“And who were the last couple of Elf-friends among the Secondborn?”
“We did tell you.”
“But you were distracted.”
“I’m listening now. Born an Elf-friend?”
“So we deem.”
“Tinúviel i-Periannath.”
Aragorn recovered his jaw and saw Arwen’s wide smile. “Do you think that, my love?”
“How should I know while the business of Gondor ties us in the south, and forbids a meeting? But did not Mithrandir deem Samwise to have played the part of Adar? As Tinúviel’s daerion, perhaps?”
“Daernaneth set somewhat of the Vanyar loose also, to judge from the golden hair.”
“And in Elanor’s case at least the power of mind.”
“Unless that is Yavanna Kementári and the grace of the Valier.”
“As well it might be, given that brick.”
“Half-brick.”
“What half-brick?”
“The one upon which Mithrandir destroyed the ring of cursed Curunír.”
“That now shines with the grace of Aulë and Yavanna.”
“And that Sam has set upon a post by the road near Bag End.”
“We did tell you.”
“But you were distracted.”
“I’m listening now. And increasingly bebothered.”
They both grinned, speaking in unison. “Why so, King Strider?”
Aragorn flapped a hand at Arwen, who was laughing. “Because though Sam’s twice right, and I admit it freely, I wasn’t only trying to atone for Frodo. I know the Shire’s changed already and that can’t be stopped, nor should it be, but some of those changes are strong attractions for a lot of people - Elves and Dúnedain go for the trees, surely, but with the wergild and the growing trade, the Shire is also gaining a reputation for wealth. And slowly but surely the population of Arnor is growing, but a lot of those going north are poorer rather than richer. Those of Enedwaith who are being pulled into Tharbad are very much poorer, including Dunlendings, and some are going on into Minhiriath and up to Bree and Annúminas, offering welcome labour. The garrison at Tharbad asks questions, and those who would use the bridge have to work there for a month and show themselves honest and sober, but rogues and worse willget through. And sooner or later I’ll be taking the Court north to Annúminas, with all that entails. So I want protection for the Shire that will work in place as soon as possible, so it’s strongly established before that strength is needed - which it will be.”
“That is all true.”
“And you were going to battle.”
“Full of contingency.”
“But an absolute ban is still unworkable, Estel.”
“And now you have more time and less fear.”
“So you must talk to the Periannath about what will work.”
“Except that Sam is going to save you the trouble, we deem.”
“So all you have you do is listen to him.”
“Especially in Sindarin.”
Aragorn gave in to the shared laugh, feeling the better for it though still deeply concerned. “Yes, yes. I do understand your joy in that game. And he is as wise as periain come, which is saying something. I hear you about young Elanor as well, and I’ll speak to Glorfindel when he’s next where the northern Palantír is. But as you agree, my fears are not groundless and whatever happens has to address them seriously. Do you two have immediate plans?”
Elladan shrugged. “Sister?”
“As you will.”
“Daeradar will have left for Imladris by now, so there, probably.”
“Then do me a favour and go by the Shire? See Sam and the others and make sure they understand? You were going to Pippin’s wedding anyway, weren’t you? I am sorry to be missing that - three out of three, now. And I’ll write to Sam and Elanor, of course, but I’d be glad if you were on hand to answer their questions. And frankly, I’d be interested in a closer report of whatever debate the Periannath have over this than they will or the Palantír can supply. I don’t have much feel for what’s going on in the Shire, in itself - life seems to have settled down after that extraordinary business with the Onodrim and huorns, but they must be changing things and I only ever see the groves from the outside. Inside it’s like they are when they move, except” - he paused as thoughts suddenly tumbled - “except for Sam, Rose, and Elanor in Eryn Edlothiad. As I look at Bag End most often it hadn’t struck me, but after your news I wonder whether something between them and the Palantír overcomes the huorns’ shadow, or if they permit me to see her.”
“Interesting.”
“From Fëanor to Daernaneth is but a sideways step.”
“And one more from Daernaneth to Elanor.”
“Or Sam.”
“But not Rose, exactly.”
“No. But to those huorns, for each received a grain from her garden.”
“They did, didn’t they? Ask them, if you will? And one of the Onodrim? But what I was saying was there has to be deep change happening there as everywhere, and though I am determined the Shire shall remain a Free Land under its own governance, I need to understand what is passing there better than I do. Halladan’s been as helpful as he can, but he’s very busy with Annúminas and the other watch towers, and though it’s clear the Periannath like him they don’t forget he’s my Lord Steward.”
“Whereas we are of no account?”
“Whereas you are Periannathellyn, or will be when Sam thinks of it.”
They laughed. “Excellent.”
“A marvellous bribe.”
“Though how you expect us to understand the politics of the Periannath is a mystery.”
“Those of the Edain are bad enough.”
Arwen laughed. “You’d manage those well enough if you bothered, and I have gifts for Rose and Elanor to smooth your way, as well as our gifts for Peregrin and his bride. But you might ask Samwise something for me also, for I have wondered if he dreams of Frodo only as he remembers him, or if he has been offered any glimpse of him as he is now.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Now there is a thought.”
“We tried to look from Emyn Beraid, but though the Palantír will show the Blessed Realm and the light, it would not show us Tol Eressëa.”
“Trust you.” But Aragorn’s heart had leaped. “Did Glorfindel try?”
“He does not go to Emyn Beraid.”
“And if he has dreamed of Tol Eressëa, he has not spoken of it to us.”
“So we will certainly ask Sam.” They exchanged a glance. “Though he would surely have said if he knew.”
“And as he will certainly ask, tell us, Estel, when are you two now hoping to come to Arnor?”
Aragorn shrugged. “I’d like to say two years, but it’ll probably be three or four. I hope no longer, but though the way is now open to forge a treaty with the Haradrim and have all settled here at last, it will take a while. I’ve already sent an embassy, but I don’t expect to hear from them for several months and there’ll have to be visits in both directions. Besides, Annúminas is in no state yet to deposit the Court upon it, and though the dwarves are working wonders they had little enough to start with.”
“Well enough. But do not tarry once you need not, Estel.”
“You are in sore need of renewing your own acquaintance with the Periannath.”
“As Mithrandir would tell you.”
“And the Court would greatly benefit from some experience of the wild north.”
“Now that is a point. But they’re still fussing about all the protocol I’ve just thrown out, and what they will be like for the first year in Arnor I dread to think.”
But it was a thought Aragorn found sustaining in the week after Elladan and Elrohir had departed for the Shire, while more than one lord and functionary had kittens over the King’s acceptance of oaths of fealty to the Citadel and City Guards from Haradrim and Rhûnim among the former slaves. Gradually their exotic faces and accented but fluent Sindarin and Adûnaic became familiar, and as he observed with pleasure, the city folk, after some interested caution, decided they approved. The day after another Haradri, who had been a great Umbari lord’s head cook, was accepted into the Guild of Kitchen Masters, he and Arwen celebrated at a feast given by the Commander of the Citadel Guard that was so subtly spiced and blended it was a joy to summon and toast the newly hired Master of the Citadel Kitchens.
The army he’d raised with help from Faramir, Imrahil, and Éomer had been large enough to overrun all the outer settlements of Umbar easily, securing its farmland as a dozen navy ships blockaded the Neck to forestall both escape and resupply. His own casualties had come taking the outer trenchworks and fortifications of the city, but thereafter it had been a gesture that had worked, not arms, and the mystery of it plucked at him. Where the great tower of Ar-Pharazôn had once stood, on the headland beyond the city, Sauron had built a black tower, as tall and in every way opposite, drinking light rather than giving it. Many of his men had looked up at it with fear and loathing, but Gimli and the dwarves he’d brought with him had just stared and spat aside.
“If that thing was built with any of his power, it would have fallen down, wouldn’t it?”
“I’d think so. The Morannon and Barad-dûr certainly did.”
“Right.”
And without further ado the dwarves had swapped axes for sledgehammers and set off up the headland while he set about investing Umbar completely from the land, and mapping the walls he would have to assail. But only two days later Gimli invited him and Legolas to come up to the black tower, where rubble was piled about the base and a great treetrunk had been set up in a cradle to swing forward when the rope holding it was cut. This Gimli asked Legolas to do with his knife, and when he did and the trunk slammed into and went clean through the base of the tower, the whole thing had shuddered, tottered, and collapsed safely away from everyone watching, into the sea.
“Shoddy work all round,” Gimli had observed with scorn. “Could have come down in any gale, weak as it was.”
The remaining rubble and stones from the base had swiftly followed the rest into the sea, clearing the site down to the remaining white foundation-stones of Ar-Pharazon’s tower, and two nights later he had been roused to be told of cries and the clash of arms coming from the city. Fires had started, painting the low clouds lurid orange, and an hour before dawn the gates had been thrown open to let a few staggering figures forth. Hearing what they had to say he’d let scouts enter, and as the sun had risen followed them himself, with Éomer and Imrahil, to find bloody horror. Everywhere Gondorian, Haradri, Khandian, and Rhûnic slaves had been cut or battered down, but the Umbari had been torn apart, often literally - even women and children ; every ship in the dock and more than half the city had burned. Barely a thousand Umbari survived, barricaded in basements or inner rooms, and perhaps twice that many slaves, all dazed beyond speaking. The pyres had burned for ten days, spreading their sweet stink everywhere as dwarves and men had razed the city wall and the ghastly temple to Sauron in the main square, shattering the blocks, and the whole place had been sluiced with pumped seawater.
Former slaves had been treated so far as he and the army healers were able and those who had homes to go to released with whatever assistance he could provide, while those who hadn’t had been brought back to Minas Tirith to be granted compensation and found a new life. The surviving Umbari men, with those women former slaves had identified as cruel, awaited justice of some kind in a camp in South Ithilien ; the rest of the women and children had stayed in Umbar to work its fields, with a newly installed garrison to watch over them. Some engineers, and several navy ships had also stayed, their commanders and crews intent on making the port what it had been in Gondor’s glory, a great southern base. And all of that was good, very good, despite the horror, and the work entailed, but he still had dreams of what he’d seen that not even finding himself again in Arwen’s arms had assuaged. So he’d thrown himelf into the paperwork that had inevitably accumulated in his absence, though Faramir had kept everything running smoothly, and allowed his impatience with ossified protocol and the self-importance of minor nobles freer reign than was quite wise, however satisfying and expedient in clearing his desk. With that done he’d spent long days in the Houses of Healing and elsewhere helping the former slaves, and despite craving Arwen’s company too many evenings and nights wandering the city incognito, hood up, accompanied only by two Dúnedain guards, listening in inns and night-market to the stories being told of the campaign and the fate of Umbar, for the most part with quiet pain but once or twice with cutting corrections that had folk nodding respectfully and shuffling away.
Then Elladan and Elrohir arrived unexpectedly from Lothlórien, summoned, he strongly suspected, by Arwen, and over a long evening plied him with sufficient wine to spill out the horror and his grief, before putting him to bed and dreamless sleep with sweet songs. The morning after they’d been unnaturally tolerant, letting him nurse his aching head without teasing before briskly taking him off to weapons practice and sweating it out of him, then steering him via a bath to lunch. A number of favorite dishes were on offer, and by the time he’d eaten rather more than usual he’d pulled himself together enough to apologise to Arwen for being a lout, but she only smiled.
“You were in pain and distress, my heart, and I can hardly blame you for not wishing to speak to me of the horrors you had seen. But now you begin to be more at peace there is a letter I have kept from you this while, for Halladan advised me it should not come to you until you were so.”
She slid it from under a side-plate and handed it to him, the familiar hand a surprise.
“From Sam?”
“With an enclosure from young Elanor, I believe.”
“And I wasn’t to … oh. Bother. They must not approve of the ban I proposed.”
“Not your wisest plan, Estel.”
“Halladan doesn’t like it either, whatever he’s said to you.”
“No, I know.” Aragorn scowled. “But I’m not having Rose and Hobbiton bothered by fools and knaves. Nor any perian crushed by drunken tinkers.”
“Why don’t you try reading the letter, my heart?”
“Then there will be the joy of Sam’s Sindarin.”
“Elanor’s too, we may now hope.”
“Really? Sindarin? She’s only, what? Six?”
“Even so. Read.”
The twins watched with bright eyes as Aragorn unfolded the letter, began to read, and stopped, eyebrows rising.
“Aloud, Estel, if you please.”
He scowled at his brothers again, but as they’d read it anyway it wasn’t worth fighting over, and a little penance would do him good. “If you insist.”
“We do.”
“Let’s see, then. Dear Strider, I was going to tell you you’re being a ninnyhammer, but my Elanorella’s done it for me and added a very good question. If you mean to push on with this ban, you’d best have an answer for her she’ll accept - and isolating us as an apology to Mr Frodo won’t be it. Ouch.” He found his fingers drumming on the table and stilled them, then sighed. “He’s sharp, isn’t he?”
“Samwise is an exceptional being.”
“Who wrote more than one paragraph.”
Aragorn took a breath, returning his attention to the letter. “Oh, and if you’re going to peer into Palantíri you’d best look more carefully. Mr Gilminas did no harm … um, however in the sum of things it may be that his head moves up and down?”
Elladan and Elrohir looked at one another, grinning delightedly before Elladan dropped into Westron. “For all he’s a nodcock.”
“Ah. Right.” Aragorn shook his head, but a smile tugged at his mouth. “Did no harm for all he’s a nodcock. Rose and Elanorella liked him. So before you go getting all bebothered, talk to Mr Gilminas yourself, if he’s back. You’ll see in a minute he’s harmless, except for his verse - not a … adhesion? Oh, patch, it must be, not a patch on old Mr Bilbo’s, but he made Elanorella laugh. Huh. It didn’t look to me as if he made Rose laugh much - she seemed startled out of her wits. Still, I could talk to the nodcock, I suppose. The last paragraph’s more serious.”
“It has all been serious, Estel.”
“Anger may colour how you see in a Palantír as much as or more than how you hear face to face.”
“Mmm. Anyway, he goes on, I’m sorry to learn the Umbar campaign was what Mr Halladan called a bad tale, but I’m glad it was mostly someone else’s bad tale, and that it’s over. I’ll hope also that with that settled you and Lady Arwen can plan on coming north at last, and if you think we’ll let you stop at the Brandywine Bridge, think again! I’ll write more when we’ve held the vote you’ve wished on us, and a nice mess that’s going to be, but I’ll tell you now you won’t like the answer no matter how much you’d like to put all the spilt milk back in the jug. Ouch, again. But we’ll see. I’ve not time to give any proper news tonight, but we’re all well, and Rose due any day now. She asked me to send her respects, and I do, with my love. Elanor just asked me to send her letter. That’s it, save the signature. Alas, I am in disgrace, then.”
“So it seems, my heart. And what does Elanor have to say?”
Aragorn opened the second paper with some trepidation but immediately laughed before sobering and frowning. “Dear King Strider, Per-ada says you mean well, wanting the Shire to be safe for Periannath, even though you’re setting about it like a ninnyhammer. But I want to know why, if the Shire’s for Periannath, you want to tell me I can’t ever invite Uncle Damrod to tea again? Your loyal but cross and puzzled servant, Elanor Gamgee.”
The twins were grinning again.
“Per-ada?”
“Sam-dad.”
“Marvellous.”
Aragorn took another deep breath. “Who is Uncle Damrod?”
“Damrod son of Finrod, of the White Company.”
“He was among those who met Sam and Frodo with Gollum at Henneth Annûn, and went north with Halladan.”
“We spoke with him at Sam’s wedding, where he represented Faramir as well as himself, and it was clear they had become friends.”
“Ah. That Damrod.”
“And Sam-dad is right yet again - it is an excellent question.”
“That he has answered correctly twice.”
“Though neither will satisfy Elanor. Actually, Estel, you should go north not least to meet her. That she is a beautiful child, you have seen, and in person she is enchanting.”
“And more. She is beloved of trees.”
“As of all who meet her, not least Glorfindel.”
“Who with us attended her fifth birthday party last year, and says she would seem to be the first mortal to be born an Elf-friend since Nirnaeth Arnoediad.”
Aragorn blinked. “You’re serious?”
“Glorfindel named Rose an Elf-friend on that day.”
“Not only for her cooking.”
“As Daernaneth named Sam, some years back.”
“Not that he quite understood she had.”
“And who were the last couple of Elf-friends among the Secondborn?”
“We did tell you.”
“But you were distracted.”
“I’m listening now. Born an Elf-friend?”
“So we deem.”
“Tinúviel i-Periannath.”
Aragorn recovered his jaw and saw Arwen’s wide smile. “Do you think that, my love?”
“How should I know while the business of Gondor ties us in the south, and forbids a meeting? But did not Mithrandir deem Samwise to have played the part of Adar? As Tinúviel’s daerion, perhaps?”
“Daernaneth set somewhat of the Vanyar loose also, to judge from the golden hair.”
“And in Elanor’s case at least the power of mind.”
“Unless that is Yavanna Kementári and the grace of the Valier.”
“As well it might be, given that brick.”
“Half-brick.”
“What half-brick?”
“The one upon which Mithrandir destroyed the ring of cursed Curunír.”
“That now shines with the grace of Aulë and Yavanna.”
“And that Sam has set upon a post by the road near Bag End.”
“We did tell you.”
“But you were distracted.”
“I’m listening now. And increasingly bebothered.”
They both grinned, speaking in unison. “Why so, King Strider?”
Aragorn flapped a hand at Arwen, who was laughing. “Because though Sam’s twice right, and I admit it freely, I wasn’t only trying to atone for Frodo. I know the Shire’s changed already and that can’t be stopped, nor should it be, but some of those changes are strong attractions for a lot of people - Elves and Dúnedain go for the trees, surely, but with the wergild and the growing trade, the Shire is also gaining a reputation for wealth. And slowly but surely the population of Arnor is growing, but a lot of those going north are poorer rather than richer. Those of Enedwaith who are being pulled into Tharbad are very much poorer, including Dunlendings, and some are going on into Minhiriath and up to Bree and Annúminas, offering welcome labour. The garrison at Tharbad asks questions, and those who would use the bridge have to work there for a month and show themselves honest and sober, but rogues and worse willget through. And sooner or later I’ll be taking the Court north to Annúminas, with all that entails. So I want protection for the Shire that will work in place as soon as possible, so it’s strongly established before that strength is needed - which it will be.”
“That is all true.”
“And you were going to battle.”
“Full of contingency.”
“But an absolute ban is still unworkable, Estel.”
“And now you have more time and less fear.”
“So you must talk to the Periannath about what will work.”
“Except that Sam is going to save you the trouble, we deem.”
“So all you have you do is listen to him.”
“Especially in Sindarin.”
Aragorn gave in to the shared laugh, feeling the better for it though still deeply concerned. “Yes, yes. I do understand your joy in that game. And he is as wise as periain come, which is saying something. I hear you about young Elanor as well, and I’ll speak to Glorfindel when he’s next where the northern Palantír is. But as you agree, my fears are not groundless and whatever happens has to address them seriously. Do you two have immediate plans?”
Elladan shrugged. “Sister?”
“As you will.”
“Daeradar will have left for Imladris by now, so there, probably.”
“Then do me a favour and go by the Shire? See Sam and the others and make sure they understand? You were going to Pippin’s wedding anyway, weren’t you? I am sorry to be missing that - three out of three, now. And I’ll write to Sam and Elanor, of course, but I’d be glad if you were on hand to answer their questions. And frankly, I’d be interested in a closer report of whatever debate the Periannath have over this than they will or the Palantír can supply. I don’t have much feel for what’s going on in the Shire, in itself - life seems to have settled down after that extraordinary business with the Onodrim and huorns, but they must be changing things and I only ever see the groves from the outside. Inside it’s like they are when they move, except” - he paused as thoughts suddenly tumbled - “except for Sam, Rose, and Elanor in Eryn Edlothiad. As I look at Bag End most often it hadn’t struck me, but after your news I wonder whether something between them and the Palantír overcomes the huorns’ shadow, or if they permit me to see her.”
“Interesting.”
“From Fëanor to Daernaneth is but a sideways step.”
“And one more from Daernaneth to Elanor.”
“Or Sam.”
“But not Rose, exactly.”
“No. But to those huorns, for each received a grain from her garden.”
“They did, didn’t they? Ask them, if you will? And one of the Onodrim? But what I was saying was there has to be deep change happening there as everywhere, and though I am determined the Shire shall remain a Free Land under its own governance, I need to understand what is passing there better than I do. Halladan’s been as helpful as he can, but he’s very busy with Annúminas and the other watch towers, and though it’s clear the Periannath like him they don’t forget he’s my Lord Steward.”
“Whereas we are of no account?”
“Whereas you are Periannathellyn, or will be when Sam thinks of it.”
They laughed. “Excellent.”
“A marvellous bribe.”
“Though how you expect us to understand the politics of the Periannath is a mystery.”
“Those of the Edain are bad enough.”
Arwen laughed. “You’d manage those well enough if you bothered, and I have gifts for Rose and Elanor to smooth your way, as well as our gifts for Peregrin and his bride. But you might ask Samwise something for me also, for I have wondered if he dreams of Frodo only as he remembers him, or if he has been offered any glimpse of him as he is now.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Now there is a thought.”
“We tried to look from Emyn Beraid, but though the Palantír will show the Blessed Realm and the light, it would not show us Tol Eressëa.”
“Trust you.” But Aragorn’s heart had leaped. “Did Glorfindel try?”
“He does not go to Emyn Beraid.”
“And if he has dreamed of Tol Eressëa, he has not spoken of it to us.”
“So we will certainly ask Sam.” They exchanged a glance. “Though he would surely have said if he knew.”
“And as he will certainly ask, tell us, Estel, when are you two now hoping to come to Arnor?”
Aragorn shrugged. “I’d like to say two years, but it’ll probably be three or four. I hope no longer, but though the way is now open to forge a treaty with the Haradrim and have all settled here at last, it will take a while. I’ve already sent an embassy, but I don’t expect to hear from them for several months and there’ll have to be visits in both directions. Besides, Annúminas is in no state yet to deposit the Court upon it, and though the dwarves are working wonders they had little enough to start with.”
“Well enough. But do not tarry once you need not, Estel.”
“You are in sore need of renewing your own acquaintance with the Periannath.”
“As Mithrandir would tell you.”
“And the Court would greatly benefit from some experience of the wild north.”
“Now that is a point. But they’re still fussing about all the protocol I’ve just thrown out, and what they will be like for the first year in Arnor I dread to think.”
But it was a thought Aragorn found sustaining in the week after Elladan and Elrohir had departed for the Shire, while more than one lord and functionary had kittens over the King’s acceptance of oaths of fealty to the Citadel and City Guards from Haradrim and Rhûnim among the former slaves. Gradually their exotic faces and accented but fluent Sindarin and Adûnaic became familiar, and as he observed with pleasure, the city folk, after some interested caution, decided they approved. The day after another Haradri, who had been a great Umbari lord’s head cook, was accepted into the Guild of Kitchen Masters, he and Arwen celebrated at a feast given by the Commander of the Citadel Guard that was so subtly spiced and blended it was a joy to summon and toast the newly hired Master of the Citadel Kitchens.