A/N—Ok, I promised to write out a character guide for new characters when they appeared in the chapter, so look below for that.  Also, I would just like to give a big thank you right off to Ithilien, the greatest beta reader there is!

 Kenson Brantz—A merchant captain who aided the fellowship in their fight against an evil creature and his army of orcs.  Aragorn gave him the position of mayor over the city of Calembel, after the former mayor abandoned his people and fled the city.

Dar—Kenson Brantz’s only son.  He was nine years old when introduced in Dark Horizons.  Always dreamed of being a soldier.

Shandarell—Legolas’ horse. Originated from Rohan.  Given to Legolas by Aragorn after Legolas saved the king’s life.

Chapter 2      The Announcement

Bright morning sunlight streamed through the slightly open flaps of the tent and onto the sleeping face of Kenson Brantz, causing him to moan slightly and roll over, his arm flinging up to cover his eyes, and his mind rebelling at the thought of waking.  Cheerful birdsong drifted in with the sun’s warm rays, welcoming the new day and bidding all to rise and enjoy it, but Kenson only moaned a second time and shifted his arms slightly to cover his ears as well as his eyes.  He had just gotten to sleep, and there was no way he was going to get up now!  Or, at least, that was what he kept telling himself.  However, his body seemed to disagree, and with a final groan of defeat, he managed to push himself into a sitting position, wincing as his sore muscles screamed in protest.

He had had an awful night!  A raging thunderstorm, combined with the fact that every root, stone, and bump in all of Middle Earth had decided to spend the night in his tent, had kept him from getting any real sleep.  His body ached, his head ached, and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton.  Altogether, he was feeling somewhat miserable and disgruntled at the moment. 

There had once been a time when he had spent weeks sleeping out under the sun and braving all types of weather without it affecting him in the least.  Now, it seemed as if his years as mayor of Calembel had softened him more than he cared to admit.  He preferred a soft bed and the cover of a solid roof, not the hard ground and the canvas of a leaky tent.  He had to keep forcing himself to remember that he was here by his own choice, and that he had no one to blame for his discomfort but himself.  Still, that didn’t help him feel any better.

He sighed loudly, rubbing a weary hand across his red eyes before forcing himself to rise and dress.  The others would be waiting to depart, and he suspected that if he didn’t hurry his pace, his son Dar would appear to hurry it for him. 

Kenson tilted his head back and closed his eyes as he thought of his only son, the lad who had been so much a part of his life for sixteen years.  It seemed as if Dar occupied his thoughts constantly of late, and though he continually tried to think of other, less painful things, his mind kept returning to one, unavoidable fact - the fact that he would soon be saying goodbye to the one person who meant more than anything to him, his son.  Dar was grown now, no longer the little boy who had followed his father around asking pointless questions, but a strong and determined young man who was ready to find his own way in the world. 

Dar had decided that he wanted to leave Calembel and travel to Minas Tirith to become a warrior of Gondor, and despite the pride Kenson felt at his son’s choice, he knew that the final parting would be difficult.  More so for him, than for Dar.  That was one of the reasons that he had chosen to escort his son personally to Minas Tirith; to put off the final goodbyes for as long as possible. 

‘And now, on our last day of travel, he will be anxious to be moving on.’    With this thought in mind, he quickly pulled on his boots and ducked through the flaps of the tent, squinting hard against the glare of the morning. 

The air outside had a clean, fresh scent, which only came after a heavy rain, and the grass shone with a hundred droplets of water that had yet to evaporate under the warm sun.  Around him, the campsite was busy with the activities of the dozen soldiers who had accompanied him and his son, and he winced when he realized that his was the last tent standing and that already the morning preparations for departure were more than halfway finished.  Even as he stood glancing around him, two soldiers scurried by, bowing briefly to him before moving on to dissemble his tent and pack it behind one of the horses.  He wondered why none of the soldiers, or more particularly, his son, had not wakened him earlier.

“Good morning father,” a cheerful voice spoke from behind him.

‘Thinking of my son…’  Kenson turned and glanced toward Dar, unable to keep the scowl from his face as he looked his son up and down.  While he stood slouched, wrinkled, and bleary eyed, Dar stood tall and proud, his tunic straight, his hair combed neatly, and his eyes bright and alert, without a hint of weariness.  “Is it?” he muttered, turning away disgusted.

Dar’s handsome face broke into a wide grin, and he let out a small laugh that caused Kenson to scowl even harder.

“Don’t be sour, father,” Dar ordered with a grin and a wink.  “We only have one more day of riding before us, and if we hurry, we shall reach Minas Tirith by mid-afternoon.”

‘All the more reason to be sour,’ Kenson thought glumly, ‘for it is another day closer to when we must part.’  Yet he did not speak his thoughts aloud, and he did his best to wipe away his surliness.  He was determined not to put a damper on his son’s excitement.  Instead, he only grunted and shook his head. 

“I am surprised to find you still here,” he growled, eying his son shrewdly.  “The way you have been pushing us the last few days, I would have thought that you would run away in the middle of the night and leave the rest of us to catch up when we could.”

Dar shrugged.  “I considered it,” he replied smoothly.  “Yet the storm last night was too great a risk and I decided that for safety sake I must remain here.”

Kenson stared at his son in shock.  He had only been jesting with Dar, yet his son had sounded as if he were actually serious.

Dar caught his father’s stunned expression and suddenly burst out laughing, stepping forward to throw his arm around Kenson’s shoulder.  “Do you truly believe I would have left without you, father?” he laughed.

Kenson shook his head, allowing his own smile to lighten his features.  “Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked, finding it strange, even after several years, that he didn’t have to look down to look straight into his son’s eyes.

Dar dropped his arm and shrugged again, still grinning.  “I thought you might need some extra rest,” he replied, “and we are not in that big of a hurry.  Besides,” he added, his tone taking on the mischievous note that Kenson knew only too well, “I know how much of a bear you can be if you are awakened before you are ready.”

Kenson chuckled.  “You should know,” he replied with mock seriousness.  “Many a time when you were a boy, you would wake me before the rising of the sun if you thought there was something needing to be done.  Never one for patience, you were.”  He chuckled again at the memories.  “Still, I know how anxious you are to reach the city, and you should have roused me.”

Dar shook his head, still smiling mischievously.  “Actually, I asked captain Rivul if it might be possible to tie some rope to the edges of your tent and drag you along behind us.  That way, I wouldn’t have to wake you, but we could still be on our way.  Unfortunately, he said it would not work.”

Kenson snorted and sent a punch at his son’s arm, which Dar easily dodged, laughing.  “Come on,” he called, “we’re wasting daylight here.”

“Let me find my mount and saddle him, and then we can be on our way,”  Kenson responded, shaking his head at the antics of his son.

“He is already saddled,” Dar replied.

Kenson turned and arched an eyebrow at his son, receiving only a guilty smile in response.

“He was one of the horses I was going to use to drag you.”

******

They reached the Pelennor fields shortly after the sun reached its zenith, the White City sparkling like a jewel before them.  A single horse rode from the gates of the city, making its swift way towards them, and a second later, Dar, riding at the front of the group with his father, recognized the fiery red horse and its two riders.  He let out an excited shout and urged his horse into a fast canter, racing forward and leaving his father and the rest of the soldiers to catch up.

“Legolas, Gimli!” he cried out, rushing the grinning elf and dwarf and pulling his horse up short just in time to avoid crashing into them.

Legolas’ mount, Shandarell, stamped his foot and let out a snort of air to show his disapproval, laying his ears back as Dar neared them.  Legolas whispered soothingly to him, and Shandarell at last calmed, lowering his head and whickering softly. 

“Greetings, young Dar,” Gimli called out while Legolas was busy with Shandarell.  “It appears as if you have finally gotten some meat on your bones.”

Legolas laughed, transferring his attention from the fiery Shandarell to the young man before him.  He reached out and gripped Dar’s forearm in a warm handshake.  “Truly you have grown,” he said softly, his gray eyes showing approval at the strength in the young man’s grip.  “It does not seem long ago that you were as short as Gimli here.”

“Watch yourself, master Elf,” Gimli retorted, though he also wore a large grin as he took his turn gripping Dar’s arm in welcome.

Kenson and the rest of the soldiers arrived then, their horses crowding forward and stirring up a small cloud of dust, causing Shandarell to toss his head and dance to the side, which in turn caused Gimli to begin muttering under his breath and Legolas to begin laughing.

“Well met, friends,” Kenson called, moving forward next to his son so that he could also greet elf and dwarf.  “It has been too long.  I must admit that I am somewhat surprised to see you here, especially now that you are both lords of your own land.”

Gimli grunted in response, running a critical eye over Dar.  “You don’t think we would be missing seeing your boy initiated into the army of Gondor, do you?  He has grown into a fine young man, Kenson.  You should be proud.”

Kenson smiled as he watched his son flush deeply and straighten in the saddle at Gimli’s compliment.  “I am proud,” he murmured, his voice so low that only Legolas heard the whispered comment.  The elf merely smiled.  “Surely you have not traveled all the way from your homelands just to see my son become a soldier,” Kenson asked aloud, eying the two friends.

“Perhaps not,” Legolas replied, sending Dar a quick smile and a wink.  “In truth, I came here with Lord Faramir and the Lady Eowyn after we received a message from Aragorn asking us to visit.  Gimli also received a message.  It seems the king has an announcement to make, and he wishes us all present when he does.”

“An announcement?” Both Dar and Kenson asked simultaneously, their faces showing their curiosity. 

“What is this announcement about?” Kenson asked.

Gimli shook his head.  “We do not know. He hasn’t announced it yet,” he replied, sending a dark glare at the back of his friend’s head.  “However, Legolas here has some suspicions which he refuses to share.

Legolas glanced over his shoulder and down at the dwarf, his gray eyes sparkling with laughter.  “It is not my right to share,” he replied firmly, ignoring Gimli’s grimace.  “Besides,” he added, “It is much more fun watching you trying to guess at it.”

Gimli muttered something that sounded much like a dwarven curse beneath his breath, and Legolas could no longer contain his laughter.

“Anyway,” Gimli said loudly, pointedly ignoring his elven friend and focusing his attention once more on Kenson and Dar, “We have ridden out here to escort you into the city.  Aragorn wanted to come, but unfortunately, matters of court detained both him and Faramir.  However, he sends his greetings and his request that you both join us for the evening meal, at which time I believe he intends on making this secret announcement of his.”

“Who am I to refuse a request from my king?” Kenson commented with a sly smile.  “We will be there, rest assured.”

“Good,” Gimli stated, then turned a glare on the still chuckling Legolas.  “Now if you are able, master Elf, I suggest that you turn this fiery beast you call a horse around, and allow us to return to the city where we might go indoors and escape the heat of the afternoon.  Of course, with your skill as a horseman and the temperament of this creature, we very well might end up…”

Gimli never finished his sentence, for Legolas had leaned forward and whispered something to Shandarell, causing the horse to rear up suddenly on his hind legs.  Gimli let out a shout of alarm and threw his arms around Legolas’ waist in order to keep from sliding off the back of the horse as Shandarell smoothly pivoted, landing graceful facing the city.

Throwing a smug look back at the dwarf who still had a death grip around his waist, Legolas gently squeezed his legs against Shandarell’s side, causing the horse to leap forward into a graceful canter.

Containing their own smiles, Kenson, Dar, and the rest of the soldiers quickly urged their mounts after Legolas and Gimli.  They moved forward toward the city, laughing and joking amongst themselves as they passed through the massive gates and into the city proper.  Legolas slowed the pace to a walk then, and they slowly made their way up the cobbled streets toward the palace.

Behind them, a black-cloaked figure moved, unnoticed, from the shadows of the wall and swiftly followed.

******

‘What is Aragorn hiding from us?’

Gimli was fairly certain that this single question, which had been repeating itself over and over again within his mind, was about to drive him mad.  There were few things he hated more than not knowing something he thought he ought to know, and he had never been accused of having anything even remotely resembling patience.  When he had first received Aragorn’s message requesting a visit and hinting at a certain ‘announcement’ the king wished to make, Gimli had dropped everything he was doing and traveled as quickly as he could to Minas Tirith.  Now, however, he had been within the city for three days and had yet to hear the announcement or even come up with a reasonable guess as to what it might pertain. 

Legolas claimed to have a guess, yet Gimli had been unable to get anything from him, much to his frustration and the elf’s amusement.  Now, only an hour away from the evening meal in which Aragorn had promised to reveal his message, Gimli found the tension even harder to bear.  He began to seriously consider the idea of sneaking to Legolas’ room and torturing the information out of his friend.  At least then, he would have something to do to occupy his mind.

Muttering a dark curse beneath his breath, Gimli began tearing through his belongings in search of a fresh tunic to change into before dinner.  He hated formal affairs, and could only hope that the evening meal would be casual, without hundreds of Aragorn’s advisors and generals crowding around discussing politics, or arguing about the best way to transfer goods from one city to another.  The last time that had happened, he had somehow allowed himself to drift to sleep, with rather embarrassing results, and he had no wish to repeat the incident.

Sighing heavily, he at last picked out an outfit of dark gray colors, which seemed to fit his present mood, and donned it quickly.  Then he left the room in search of Legolas.

He was not surprised when he at last found Legolas in the gardens; even less surprised that his friend was presently perched within the branches of a high tree.  Legolas sat with one leg pulled to his chest, the other dangling limply from the branch, his eyes closed and his head leaning back against the trunk of the tree.  The limb he was presently perched upon stretched out over one of the many fountains in the garden, and the magical play of water filled the air.

Gimli watched his friend from a distance for several long minutes, then slowly and quietly he approached, his eyes locked on Legolas’ face.  The elf’s features were relaxed and distant, a sign that Gimli had come to realize meant that Legolas’ thoughts were far away.  His grin was purely evil as he silently climbed the rim of the fountain, moving forward with as much stealth as he had ever been able to muster.  Legolas’ left leg, the one he had left dangling, was now directly in front of Gimli, and with a silent chuckle of mirth, he reached out and grasped the booted foot, yanking downward with all of his might.

A muted shout of alarm sounded above, and Gimli leapt backward, off the rim of the fountain, just in time to avoid the tumbling form of his friend.  Somehow, Legolas managed to recover himself enough to land feet first with a great splash in the middle of the fountain, the surprise on his face causing Gimli to double over in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.  Legolas sent a deadly glare in his direction, and Gimli considered the wisdom in fleeing, yet he was laughing too hard to move.

“Very funny, Gimli,” Legolas ground out between gritted teeth as he sprang gracefully from the fountain.  “Funny, yet was it wise?” the elf added as he lifted his hand to wipe away some stray droplets of water that had landed on his face.

Gimli tried to respond, but found himself unable to stop laughing.  Every time he looked at Legolas he found himself fighting off another round of wild chuckles.

Legolas stood over him with his arms crossed over his chest and a look of forced patience on his face as he waited for Gimli to get control of himself.

“I…I apologize, master elf,” Gimli finally managed to gasp.  “I’m afraid I mistook your foot for a dead branch.  I was merely attempting to help the palace gardeners.”

“Come now, Gimli,” Legolas said coolly, “Surely you can come up with something better than that.”

Gimli bit his lip hard to hold back another burst of laughter, and attempted to put on his most innocent expression.  “Never did I think to sneak up on you, Legolas.  Truly your thoughts must have been far from here.  Tell me, what were you thinking of that so distracted you.”

Legolas merely shrugged and looked away, but Gimli was not about to let the elf elude his question so easily.

“Come now, Legolas,” he urged.  “Is there a pretty elven maiden who occupies your thoughts?”

“Nay,” Legolas responded with a wry laugh.  He glanced back at Gimli then, and shrugged once more before saying quietly, “The sea. I was thinking of the sea.”

All mirth fled from Gimli as quickly as it had come as he fully came to understand why he had been able to sneak up on Legolas.  He flinched unconsciously, as he always did when discussing this topic with his best friend.  The sea longing was something that Gimli did not completely understand, yet he knew that it tormented his friend, some days more than others.

“Come Gimli,” Legolas said lightly, a forced cheerfulness entering his voice.  “You got me fair and square, and now I will be forced to think of a suitable revenge.  But for now, I think I need to go and change clothes.”

Gimli nodded, unable to think of anything else to do or say at the moment.  He followed Legolas to the elf’s quarters, then waited outside for his friend.  Several minutes later, Legolas reappeared, looking especially noble in a dark green tunic with silver leaf scrolling around the cuffs.  The two made their way quickly toward the large dinning hall, neither speaking, but instead walking in the light silence of friends.

A young servant girl was waiting for them when they reached the large ornate doors leading into the banquet hall.  She bowed low, then led them through the huge, dimly lit room, to a smaller room located to the side, where the lamps shone brighter and a long table was already set up for the evening meal. 

Gimli let out a relieved sigh when he realized that this was indeed going to be a relaxed meal between friends, instead of a formal affair.  Aragorn stood at the head of the long table, talking with Faramir, Kenson, and Dar. Arwen and Eowyn stood a few paces off speaking quietly to one another.

“Ahh,” Aragorn called out when he noticed their arrival, “I was beginning to wonder if you two intended to show up.”

“My apologies, Aragorn,” Legolas said softly, bowing slightly to the king before glancing over at Gimli.  “I am afraid that I had a slight accident which delayed us.”

Gimli chuckled, relieved when he noticed the slight smile mirrored on Legolas’ face.

“I see,” Aragorn said slowly, looking the two friends up and down before shaking his head.  “No matter.  Come, let us eat.”

Gimli wasn’t about to argue with this command, and he quickly found his seat, eying the different dishes displayed before him with great interest.  Legolas sat down beside him, throwing Gimli a wicked look.

“It is a good thing this is not a formal meal,” the elf stated quietly, “For I would hate to have to fish your head from a bowl of soup like the last time, lest you drown.”

Gimli let out a low growl, but he wasn’t given a chance to respond, for the others had seated themselves and the meal was about to begin.  “Come now, Aragorn,” Gimli called out, catching the king’s attention.  “Did you not have an announcement to make ere we begin to eat?”

Aragorn laughed and shook his head.  “Patience, good dwarf,” he replied, “there will be plenty of time for that after we eat.”

Gimli wasn’t so sure that he agreed, yet the tantalizing smells drifting from the food was more than a little distracting, and at last he gave in.

The meal was a relaxed and enjoyable time, where the old friends shared tales and laughter, and the warmth from the many candles, combined with full stomachs left everyone feeling contented and slightly drowsy.

While they ate, Aragorn asked Kenson to share how things were going in Calembel, and they all listened with interest as the mayor related the different activities occurring in the city as well as the new progress that had been made in the merchant businesses there.

When Kenson had finished speaking, Aragorn turned to Legolas and Faramir and asked them to tell of the progress made within Ithilien. 

Gimli only half listened to their responses, having already heard much of this from Legolas.  He found himself quickly growing impatient, eager for the idle talk to end and the more important matters to be addressed. 

“And what of you, Gimli?  How goes your work within the Glittering Caves?”

Gimli gave a slight start when Aragorn addressed him, then cleared his throat and met the king’s gaze.

“All goes well,” he replied gruffly.  “Each day we make new discoveries.  In fact, we have just uncovered a thick vein of mithril, the discovery being made on the very same day that I received your message.”

Gimli hoped that Aragorn would detect his subtle hint, and it appeared as if he was in luck, for the king laughed softly, then stood, drawing the attention of everyone in the room to himself.

“I have an announcement to make,” Aragorn stated boldly, and Gimli had to forcefully choke back a scathing retort to this statement of the obvious. 

“The reason I have called you here,” Aragorn continued, “is because I would like you all to share in my joy.”  The king paused, then reached down and clasped Arwen’s hand, drawing his wife to a standing position beside him.  Both of them beamed at each other before turning to face their now rapt audience.

“Arwen and I are going to have a baby,” Aragorn said proudly, his arm wrapped lovingly around his wife’s slim waist.  “I am soon going to be a father!”

The pronouncement was met with stunned silence, which was quickly shattered with shouts of joy and congratulation.  Eowyn leapt from her seat and raced to embrace Arwen, while Faramir and Kenson moved to shake hands with Aragorn.

As for Gimli, he found himself not quite sure how to react.  He was happy for his friends, yet at the same time, somewhat shocked that his days of wondering and worrying had been for nothing more than this.  He turned in his chair and found Legolas watching him, a wide smile spread across the elf’s fair features.

“You knew!” Gimli said accusingly, glaring at his elven friend.  “You knew, and still you let me wonder.”

Legolas shrugged, his grin broadening.  “It was not my secret to tell,” he replied steadily, though his eyes sparkled with laughter.

Gimli muttered something less than complimentary under his breath, then turned his back on the elven prince.  Rising from his chair, he moved forward to congratulate Aragorn and Arwen.

Aragorn’s face was alight with pride and joy, and Arwen seemed almost as if she were glowing.  Watching his friend’s excitement, Gimli could not help but be affected, and the grin he offered king and queen was genuine.

The group of friends remained together well into the night, and when they at last parted company, all left with smiles and thoughts focused on what appeared to be a bright and happy future.

*******

Tervanis sat quietly within the shabby room of the rundown inn he had chosen on his first night within the city, his eyes distant and his hands distractedly stroking the hilt of his long knife.  Two weeks had passed since he and his men had arrived within the city.  Two weeks of sitting and waiting and learning what they could.  Yet now, he knew that the time of action was close.

Without a hint of warning, he sprang into motion, his hand smoothly and soundlessly drawing his blade from its sheath and flinging it forward to land with a soft thud in the hard wood of the room’s door.  The tingle of excitement that always took him before a job rushed through his veins, and with a crooked smile, he rose from the bed and moved to his saddlebags.  Flipping open the first flap, he reached inside and drew out a thin, sealed parchment and tucked it safely behind his belt.  Then, he rose and retrieved his knife before opening the door and striding confidently from the room.

TBC