Chapter 12 ~ Minas Tirith
As Minas Tirith came into view, Lady Annariel sighed happily. "At last," she said softly, "a warm bed. I do not mind journeys, but I do not enjoy sleeping on the cold ground."
"Nor do I, Mother," Morwen agreed, urging her mare into a trot as did the rest of her family.
They reached the city gates as darkness overtook the land, dropping a vale over the sun and chasing it from the sky. "Halt!" came the command from above. They pulled up compliantly, their mounts stirring restlessly beneath them in the cold winter air. "Who goes there?"
"It is I, Lord Narion, son of Prince Faramir," Narion called up to the guard. "I have business with the King."
They could hear the muffled order to open the gate and as they swung slowly in, Morwen shifted her weight in the saddle. She was more than ready for a rest, a meal and a change of clothes.
They were greeted by a small group of soldiers as they entered the city. "Good evening, my Lord," their leader said pleasantly. "Welcome to Minas Tirith. His majesty will rejoice to know you have arrived safely. He has awaited your coming for several days. Would you care for an escort to your lodgings?"
Morwen looked the small group over, taking note of each face in turn; there were several men younger even than herself in the group. "No thank you," Narion answered. "I believe we can find our own way." Morwen’s gaze stopped suddenly, her breath catching in her throat as she met the eye of the soldier in the rear of the group. It was Eradan.
"Very well, my Lord," the man said politely as the gate swung shut behind them, the echo of its closing reverberating through the stone street. "I shall keep you no longer. Good night, ladies," he added with a bow.
"Good night," Annariel smiled in return, but Morwen had not even heard.
Eradan gestured slightly with his head and Morwen noticed that her family was beginning to leave. She tapped her heels lightly against her mare’s ribs and soon caught up to them, her mind and heart in a turmoil. After so long, her love had not died. It had been a year and several months since he had ridden from her life. An entire year since last she had seen his face or heard his deep voice.
Belecthor glanced over at her thoughtfully. He, too, had taken note of Eradan’s presence, although it had not affected him as deeply. Morwen’s reaction had been unexpected, to say the least, for she had hidden her feelings well, but he was not sure how he felt about it. He would have to consider it.
The next morning, Narion went straight to the palace to see Elessar. He had always enjoyed his job of traveling about on business for his father and often brought his family with him. Today he wanted to get all business out of the way so that he and his family could spend some time together in the city before heading home only a few days later.
Belecthor awoke as the sun burst through his window, shining directly in his face. He groaned and covered his eyes with his blanket. He made a mental note; he would have to do something about that before bed that night. He debated keeping the soft blanket on the bed, or covering the window.
He yawned lazily and stretched his arms over his head. He had lain awake most of the night thinking and so did not feel like getting out of bed. Morwen swung his door open and entered with a pitcher of fresh water. "Get up, Belec," she ordered, jerking the covers off him before placing the pitcher on his washstand.
He muttered something unintelligible and rolled over, facing the opposite wall. She slapped him lightly with the back of her hand and turned to go. "Morwen," he called before she was out of the door.
"Yes?"
"Did you see Eradan yesterday?"
She bit her lip, crossing to sit beside him on the bed. He rolled back over to face her. "Yes, I did," she answered calmly.
He searched her face. "Is there anything wrong, Morwen?" he asked gently.
She sighed. "Hirilian always told me that neither of us could long keep a secret from you. Although I feel that I have succeeded up to a point."
"You love him?" it was more of a statement really.
She looked down at her hands. "Yes," she answered, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. "Yes, I love him. I have loved him for an entire year and more. Ever since he came into our care. It nearly broke my heart when he left and did not return."
"You still love a man who nearly broke your heart?"
"I understand why he left," she answered. "He felt that he was not worthy of me and so did not want to encourage my love by remaining by my side."
Belecthor took her hand in his own, squeezing gently. "I do not know him well," he said quietly, "but he is a strong man. His commander speaks highly of him and was delighted when he arrived to join the fray. Are you sure he is the one?"
"Yes, Belec, I am very sure. I thought I would forget him, just as he said I would; but I could not. I tried to live my life the way I used, but it was no good. I love him dearly and now that I have seen him again, I feel that I can never again leave Minas Tirith."
Belecthor frowned slightly. His father had planned to leave in only a few days, and if Morwen would not go, questions would be raised. He wondered if there was some way in which he could delay their departure. Surely his parents would not object to lengthening their stay. His mother had commented on her wish to remain longer, to postpone returning as long as she could, and her husband had seemed not opposed to the idea. Perhaps there was a way.
He squeezed her hand gently. "We will see, dearest. Remember, you are something extremely precious to me, and I will hate to lose you." She smiled affectionately down at him. "But now I wish to change in preparation for the day, and I desire some privacy. If you do not mind."
"Not at all. I shall see if breakfast is ready. Come down when you are finished."
Belecthor watched her as she left the room, the heavy oak door closing behind her. There had to be a way to make her happy, and if there was, he would find it. No matter what.