My Sword Weeps
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 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.
