Chapter 6 - The Shadow Rider

In the stable yards of the castle were few men to be seen at this hour when darkness had first fallen. Elves of Ithilien guarded here the entrances nearest their prince’s chambers and the stables of the elven horses they rode to battle. The men who entered to do Aragorn’s work were closely watched here and never allowed to approach the horses of the elves.

Fuin needed no guard. To approach the black stallion without his leave was madness. The first day a groom of Elessar had tried it. The man had backed quickly in fear as the great horse reared and brought sharp hooves towards his head. Only the swift movement of the warriors near the horse had saved the man’s life.

Fuin still bared his teeth at the poor hostler and stamped his feet when he saw him working in the stables. No, Fuin needed no guard. The elf who stood by his stall was to protect the mortals.

Ohtar, the warrior who tended him, watched in admiration as the great horse raced around the fenced ring where they let him stretch his long legs when the prince could not ride him.

Gilúviel came seldom, yet always did Fuin watch for him. Ohtar spoke to comfort him then and told him that his prince was with his brother as he must be. Many were the anxious hearts of the warriors as they watched with Fuin and Ohtar and saw not the dark elf’s coming.

The news of Legolas brought to them had not been good, and the warriors prayed ever for his recovery as they guarded his chambers.

In the growing darkness of twilight, Eldarion sat on the fence and watched the beautiful horse at play. He had brought an apple for Fuin as he often did since they had first been introduced. Eldarion hoped one day the elf prince would let him sit upon Fuin’s back.

Suddenly, the horse stopped his dancing and lifted his great head in the air. He made no sound whatever but suddenly gathered his muscles and, with one beautiful leap, sailed over the high bars of the fence. Eldarion and the warrior whirled to the direction the horse ran.

Standing in the stable yard was the dark son of Thranduil and with him Rúmil of the Galadhrim. The warrior bowed to them.

"My lord, I did not hear your approach. Forgive me!"

"Peace, Ohtar! I hope I still have my skill in silent movement. Only this one should ever hear me!" Gilúviel laughed at the horse’s eager nose thrusting into his neck. He put his arms around the horse’s neck and embraced him.

"Ai, my proud one, how I miss your company! I hear that you are not always so gracious at my absence?" The horse shook his head softly and again nudged his nose into the hollow of the prince’s shoulder. "Fuin, I have need of your service this night." Fuin was instantly attentive, waiting for the prince to mount his ebon back. "Nay, Fuin, I cannot yet leave Legolas. You must carry Rúmil, for he has need of your swiftness."

Fuin looked at Rúmil, who bowed to him with his hand upon his heart. The horse shook his head proudly.

"Fuin, attend me, for what I say is of great importance. Rúmil rides for me and to aid Legolas. My brother did bid me give you his greetings, Fuin, and say that one day he prays that you will carry him again." He caressed the neck of the horse softly.

"Ai, Fuin! That would be my greatest happiness. You must help me make it true. Bear Rúmil and do his bidding in all that he asks. Keep him safe on his journey, Fuin, and bring him home to us." The great horse inclined his head to Gilúviel.

"He will bear you now wherever you need go, Rúmil. He will keep you in safety unless he himself be slain. Take care that thou both return."

Rúmil nodded and draped his small pack and waterskin over the stallion’s neck, fastening the thin strap that would hold them in the absence of saddle and bridle. He motioned to Othor to lead forth the second horse he would take with him. The return journey would need great swiftness. For Aragorn, Rúmil brought an elven horse. The black mare would follow Fuin wherever he led. She was his daughter and almost as swift.

"Rúmil, where are you going?" Eldarion’s sharp eyes had noted the second quiver filled with arrows on his teacher’s back. This Rúmil had told him might save his life in a battle far afield and had the craftsmen make one for the boy. Eldarion saw the dirk in the elf's boot and the long knives that Legolas had given Rúmil and taught him to use.

One thing else did Eldarion see and it filled him with awe. About his waist, Rúmil had strapped his sword Celebros. He wore it only at times of most peril, for ever do elves of the Galadhrim fight more with bow and knife. Celebros had been with the elf at the Golden Wood and Dol Guldur.  His mother had told Eldarion of these battles where the brothers he loved had fought with his great grandparents.

The sword had been forged by the gwaith-i-mírdain and had belonged to the elf's grandfather, who had fallen at Dagor Bragollach. When Rúmil had first shown his growing skill in his sword training, Haldir had presented it to him and told him to bring Celebros honor.

Eldarion had seen his father spar once with Rúmil and had never forgotten it. It was the only time he had seen Aragorn fight someone who was his equal, an elf wielding a sword from the same forge as Andúril.

His father had told Eldarion afterwards, that only his greater physical weight than the elf had let him prevail, and then just barely. Aragorn had been forced to his utmost, and the sweat had poured from him as he helped the laughing elf from the ground.

Aragorn had bowed low to Rúmil. As ever, the elf had grinned and said he must begin to eat more if that was the case. Eldarion smiled at the memory of his father embracing Rúmil in laughter. That night, while his mother did not see them, the elf had let Eldarion taste his wine that Aragorn had poured to celebrate their friendship. So long ago was it?  Legolas had laughed with them that night, whole and untouched. 

"I ride to seek for your father, Gimli and Faramir. Speak no word of this to any mortal, Eldarion. There is much at risk." The elf spoke softly, and the boy nodded to him.

"Good, now I leave in your care much that I value. See you that Legolas be not alone, for he has great need of his friends. I trust your honor on this." The boy again nodded, lifting his head with the pride he had earned in his care of Legolas.

Rúmil did not look towards the low parapet where he knew Arwen stood watching the stable yard.

"Keep safe thy lady mother for thy father’s happiness lives in her. Protect her for all who love her, Eldarion."  Still Rúmil did not look towards the Evenstar. His heart carried her face as he remembered it. It was enough. It was his.

Quickly, the elf embraced the boy and held him close a moment. He felt Eldarion’s warm breath on his neck and held it deep within him, stroking the boy’s dark hair so like his mother’s. His son as much as the king’s. Rúmil mounted Fuin then and with no further word did urge the black horse forward.

As Rúmil rode past the parapet he raised one hand to Arwen as ever he had done when he left her for battle. She returned the gesture in silence and fingered the silken bag deep within her pocket.

He would never permit her to show fear, never. Nothing angered him more. Silently praying for him, she held tight to her courage and watched as he urged the two horses forward.

On Rúmil’s face as ever was his crooked smile at danger. His silver hair was blowing back from his face as Fuin gathered speed, and he bent low over the horse’s powerful neck. By morning, this elven shadow would be far from Minas Tirith. The Queen of Gondor watched after him until he faded from her mortal sight.

Arwen Undómiel called to her son then and walked back with him into the palace. From the shadows by the stable, Gilúviel watched her in sorrow and pity.

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Author’s Note:

Fuin:   Sindarin. Deep Shadow, Darkness.
Celebros: Sindarin. Silver Foam.
Gwaith-i-Mírdain:  Sindarin. People of the Jewel Smiths. The Noldor of Eregion and the greatest craftsmen of all time in Middle Earth. Led by Celebrimdor. After he was slain, the surviving remnants of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain were brought by Elrond to Imladris. They are probably the smiths who reforged Andúril out of the shards of Narsil.