Ch. 34 - Homesick

Prince Imrahil's steepled fingers rested against his mouth. Though he knew not what the missive contained, the pursed lips of his prince told Arantar that the news he brought was useful, but disconcerting. He stood at attention, waiting patiently as was his wont. His mind wandered, but only slightly, for he would not allow harm to come to his prince by his dereliction of duty. The small corner of his mind that was allowed to roam looked towards the sea, his sweet wife, and his babies - the fourth on the way. Taking in a small breath at the wonder of it all, he kept at attention. His prince deserved such respect.

He had been gone overlong from his family. The quick call for travel to Minas Tirith should have only been for a few weeks at the most; it was now into its third month. He wondered how his family fared. At least his wife's mother had come to stay with her whilst he was gone. Thankful he was that she was not a busybody, but a steady heart and well-versed in helping others give birth. It put his mind to rest. The babe was due near to the feast of Tuilérë. If they did not leave soon, he would miss it. He clenched his teeth. He had missed the birth of every one of his children; this last, he had promised her, he would not miss. It very much appeared that he had been wrong.

His mind turned to the first birth he had missed. He had been on a ship anchored near the city of Pelargir, a young knight on his first voyage, and very much missing his new bride. The vows he had made kept him from trouble as some of the new recruits reveled in the seamier side of the port city. There indiscretion landed many in the ship’s brig. Because of his ‘devotion’ to duty, he had been immediately raised to lieutenant. He smiled.

His oldest would esquire next year. Arantar's chest puffed out a little at the thought. The lad was already good with a sword; as soon as he grew broader in the chest, his bow skills should rival his sword arm. The lad showed much promise and his fellow officers teased him mercilessly about the apple falling not far from the tree.

Another hour passed. At last, his prince stood. "Arantar." The knight was beside him in an instant. "I would meet with the Council in the morning. Send a scribe to me."

When that duty was dispatched, his prince retired to his rooms and Arantar, upon dismissal, went to the buttery. There, he met some of his fellows; talk about their duty here in Minas Tirith overshadowed every discussion. At last, Arantar could stand it no longer. “I am going to the parapet, look south, and try to at least pretend that the sea is near.” His friends looked up, surprise on their faces. “I am cramped here; the stone of this place is cold; the colours are as drab as a stormy day on the sea.” He shook his head and walked briskly from the room.

As he walked across the Court of the Fountain, he noted a knight of Belfalas standing at the very tip of the parapet. The man - nay, it was a boy - turned towards him. Upon seeing Arantar, the lad stiffened and saluted.

“I do not know you, soldier.” He had not been formally introduced and knew that the lad only knew him as the prince’s second.

“My name is Angbor, my Lord. I am esquire to Aglahad, Captain of the garrison at Edhellond. Prince Imrahil has given me leave to stay in Minas Tirith.” A deep look of consternation filled his face. “My father needed me.”

Arantar took pity on him. “Might I share this spot with you? I am Arantar.”

“Of course, my Lord. And your name is known throughout Belfalas.”

Arantar found himself blushing; he was surprised at his reaction. “I will only encroach for a moment or two. I am expecting to be called back to the prince shortly. So, you are under Aglahad. He is a good soldier. Have you learned much under his tutelage?”

“Oh! Aye, my Lord. He knows so much; I sometimes feel like a farm hand with no experience whatsoever, though,” and the lad looked as if he had disparaged himself, “I am from the city, from Calembel itself.”

Smiling at the thought of Calembel being, in any way, associated with the term ‘city,’ Arantar asked gently, “Your father is a member of the Council, is he not?”

Angbor’s eyes looked pained. “He is… was.”

Again, pity filled Arantar’s eyes. He had been cruel to ask. He had been in the Steward’s chambers when Angbor had confessed his father’s treason. “Now that I know your name, I remember I have heard many reports of your successes in training. Captain Aglahad is a friend. We keep track of each other, though the miles are many that lie between us. He has taken a particular interest in you because of your courage.”

The boy’s eyes filled with tears, but he said nothing, turning towards the Pelennor.

“I would be your friend, if you would have me,” the captain said.

Angbor turned quickly, surprise replacing tears. “My Lord!”

“I know not how long you and I will be here.” His thoughts flew to his own son who would soon be esquire in the prince’s army, and hoped that someone would befriend him.

“It is good to have a friend about. Someone we can trust. Especially in a strange land.” He turned his own face towards the Pelennor. Even though it was still winter, the sight of the homesteads upon it filled his heart with peace. He looked south. “There!” he pointed for Angbor’s benefit. “Can you not see where the sea meets the land?”

Angbor strained mightily. “I cannot, my Lord.”

Arantar heard the deep frustration in the lad’s voice. “Of course you cannot. Neither can I,” Arantar smiled. “But I can imagine. Do it with me, Angbor. Imagine. Cannot you not see the gulls flying low over the marshes that lead out to the Bay? Cannot you hear the waves crashing against the breakwall? Cannot you see the ships sailing out of the harbour heading towards home, towards Dol Amroth?” He knew his voice had hushed and a thrill ran through him as his mind took him away from this great stone-walled city. A tear ran down his face.

“I can see it, my Lord,” the boy said, total trust reflected in his voice.