Silverhelm: A Tale of Two Enemies

Gimli, You're Starting to Think Like Me

Entering the Hall of Kings, I gasped.  At the end of the hall, a throne sat on a raised dais, accessible by stairs. At the base of the dais sat the Chair of the Steward.  The floor was of marble, and the roof was vaulted, supported by many pillars. At the base of each pillar stood a guard with a winged helm and tall spear. Hangings of black and silver covered the walls, and a tapestry showing the White Tree hung behind the throne.

Gimli was sitting in the Steward's chair, looking distraught. Aragorn was pacing back and forth in front of the throne, hands behind his back and eyes on the floor. Eomer sat on the lowest step of the throne's dais. A tall man, fair of face as an elf is, and arrayed in the blue and silver of Dol Amroth, leaned against one of the pillars. I guessed this was Prince Imrahil.

At the sound of the door opening and closing, Eomer jumped to his feet and Aragorn stopped pacing. "Lyrasael?!" he exclaimed. The Dunedain stalked towards me with great steps until he towered over me. "You are supposed to be resting," he thundered.

"Aragorn, I-"

"You were impaled, a Nazgul nearly killed you, you have a broken arm, and you think you're fine? One does not simply heal from a wound like that in two days! Who do you think you are to disobey..." I waited patiently for him to finish, sending "help me!" messages to Gandalf with my eyes. Prince Imrahil was giving me a pitying look. When Aragorn was finished, I said,

"Look, Aragorn, I know you're worried, but you know I heal fast." I held up my unbroken arm as he started to protest. "And since Frodo and Sam are still out there, can we focus on the greater threat?" Aragorn glowered at me while muttering about "people these days having no regards for healer's orders". I'm not exactly people these days, am I?

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Frodo has passed beyond my sight," he said. "The darkness is deepening."

"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it," Aragorn said thoughtfully.

"It's only a matter of time. He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor, the enemy is regrouping."

"Let him stay there!" Gimli said from the Steward's chair. "Let him rot! Why should we care?"

"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom. I've sent them to their deaths," Gandalf told him.

"No," I said, speaking for the first time. I winced as a wave of pain went through my stomach. "There's still hope for Frodo and Sam. They need time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give them that."

"How?" Gimli questioned.

"Draw out Sauron's armies." I felt a shiver as I spoke the name. "Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate." Aragorn looked at me intently, then a flicker of a smile crossed his face. He knew what I was thinking. Imrahil laughed.

"Surely this is the greatest jest in the history of Gondor? That we should ride with seven thousands to assail the impenetrable gate of the Black Land! So might a child threaten a mail-clad knight with a bow of string and green willow! If the Dark Lord knows so much as you say, Mithrandir, will not rather smile than fear, and with his little finger crush us like a fly that tries to sting him?"

"No, he will try to trap the fly and take the sting," Gandalf said. "And there are names among us that are worth more than a thousand mail-clad knights apiece. No, he will not smile." I saw Aragorn stand a little taller. I remembered Elrond's words: Aid Estel. He must become King.

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms," Eomer broke in.

"Not for ourselves," Aragorn said, a glint in his eye. "But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's eye fixed on us." He turned to the rest of us. "Keep him blind to all else that moves."