The Second Heir

The Qualms of Stubbornness

Emryn walked silently through the halls of the White Tower, heading to the throne room. She had only glimpsed these halls once before, during her travels with her brother, and their cold beauty still awed her.

White marble columns rose above the marble floor, which was veined with black, snaking across the floor. High arched windows overlooked the city below, each level further out than the one before it. The damage caused by the battle was terribly plain from up here, and Emryn's heart ached at the fresh memory of the dying soldiers, women crying, children dead in the streets.

A movement ahead caught her eye, and she saw Legolas step into the hall, heading to the throne room as well. Aragorn had summoned them for a meeting, to plan their next course of action. Emryn's stomach grumbled loudly. There had better be food accompanying this meeting, she thought as she patted her stomach.

When she reached the hall she saw that everyone but her brother was assembled. Legolas stood next to Gimli, who sat against one of the marble columns; Gandalf stood across from them, deep in thought; Faramir was here as well. Emryn had not yet met him formally, but she had heard from Pippin that he was Boromir's brother, and of what had happened to his father. He stood by the column nearest Gandalf, rubbing his bandaged arm as he spoke with Prince Imrahil, who had come as well.

There were two others in the room, though Emryn avoided looking at them. Eomer stood not far from Legolas and Gimli, speaking quietly with Gamling. Emryn moved to stand beside Gandalf, who roused himself from his thinking long enough to give her a polite nod.

Boots echoed on the marble floors, and Emryn looked to see her brother walk in wearily, dark circles under his eyes, but a light of hope within them. He's up to something. She shot him a look, but he simply shook his head, his eyes telling her to wait.

The others fell silent as took his place at the head of the room. "We have had a great victory here, but now we must look to our next course of action. That Sauron was massing armies in Mordor, Denethor was correct in seeing. However, we still have an advantage," he said, looking to the White Wizard.

Gandalf sighed before he began. "Frodo has passed beyond my sight. The darkness is deepening."

Emryn saw a ghost of a frown on her brother's face before it vanished. "If Sauron had the Ring we would know," he said assuredly, but Gandalf huffed.

"It's only a matter of time."

"But there is yet reason to hope!" Emryn exclaimed, perturbed that the Wizard would doubt after all they had been through. "Ere I met the hobbits I would have doubted as well, but they are stronger than they seem! I have faith that they are yet alive, drawing closer to Orodruin."

"And then what? Just because he has been defeated does not mean he is idle. Behind the walls of Mordor Sauron's armies are regrouping and preparing to strike," Gandalf replied stubbornly.

"Let him stay there, let him rot! Why should we care?" Gimli piped up, and Gandalf turned to face him.

"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," the Wizard said sternly. His face turned ashen and his voice quieted. "I've sent him to his death."