Along with Alphros, the party heading north to Minas Tirith picked up another traveler. Nemir was her name, a relative of the Dol Amorth royalty. She was a pretty thing, pale with curly dark hair. She was another suitor for Eldarion. Alphros did not like her.
“Thank you for taking me North, Lord Elboron,” Nemir said kindly and with a curtsy. Her royal blue dress was trimmed with white and blew pleasantly in the wind as she nodded him.
“Of course, Lady Nemir,” Elboron gestured for her get inside the horse drawn cart they had obtained for her and the Haradrim royalty. “You are royalty to us.”
Nemir hopped aboard, followed by Malika and Adira. Throughout the journey, Malika made small talk with the newcomer, curious about what her life was like. Nemir seemed hesitant. She didn't want to talk to Malika. She wanted to talk to the other suitor.
“So, Adira is it?” Nemir started with a sweet smile. “Nice name. I like the Southron language, though it is rather… rough around the edges.”
“Adira is correct.” The tan skinned woman nodded. She didn't like the comment about her language. “And you are Nemir of Dol Amroth? I would say Elvish is a strange tongue as well.”
Nemir narrowed her eyes but sighed. “Perhaps my comment was taken the wrong way. I merely meant to say I do not fully understand it yet.”
“I do not know Sindarin fully either. I suppose the Common Tongue will have to suffice,” Adira agreed.
They spent the first day on basic pleasantries. As the days passed and they grew closer to Minas Tirith, Nemir seemed to close herself off. Her blue eyes shined with a strange light, as if seeing the White City had kindled something in her. Something that made Adira uncomfortable.
“Welcome to Minas Tirith,” Fëalas told them as they stopped before the great gates. The great bottom wall, black as night, was at first menacing to the Haradrim newcomers. But then they saw the mithril reinforced gates, open to allow traffic in and out of the huge city. Somehow it beckoned them in.
Adira put her veil on, feeling exposed when she noted all the people. Malika, having changed into a dress on her sister’s insistence, squirmed to get a better look of their surroundings and the cart rolled in through the gates. She got up on her knees to look at the people they passed by. She saw many commoners, all who looked right back at her in curiosity and amazement. Her darker skin and “odd” way of dressing was enough to set her apart, but add in the royal escort and people certainly took notice.
Eventually they reached the uppermost circle. Here, citadel guards with giant helmets and tall spears guarded the way to the King. Fëalas dismissed her rangers to the handle the horses while she and Elboron helped Nemir, Adira, and Malika out of the cart. Malika stood in awe. Nemir nearly laughed at her reaction.
Suddenly the doors to the citadel swung open and out walked a large group of people. In front went King Elessar and Queen Arwen. Beside the King, his son Eldarion walked, obviously trying to look happy but failing. To Arwen’s side were Amdirien and Sídhil. Aderthon went beside his cousin Eldarion. Behind them walked Merry, Pippin, and a third hobbit.
Her golden hair fell in ruffling curls to her chest, and her rosy cheeks spoke of laughter. Her two children stood behind her. Elanor Gardner,eldest child of Sam Gamgee, was her name. And her children were Fíriel and Elfstan. To their side went Círeth.
Near her, a tall man with ruffled blonde hair and a woman with light brown hair walked, the woman carrying a young boy. These were Prince Elfwine, his wife, Lady Delwyn, and their three year old son Eldric. Eldarion had met her only once, four years ago, at their marriage. He had never met the child.
Behind them were three women. One was golden haired and fair faced, her beauty exceptional for Men. Elboron supposed it was Lady Alodia, the suitor sent from Rohan. Next to her was a woman, shorter, with a ruddy face and brown hair. She had dreads in her hair in some places. Elboron realized this was Cwen, the Dunlending suitor. And last but not least, a tall, dark haired and grey eyes maiden stood there. Malwen of the Northern Reunited Kingdom.
“Welcome Lady Adira, welcome Lady Malika. And Welcome Lady Nemir!” Aragorn smiled gladly at them. “Please, come inside. As you can see there are many people here today.”
Adira, still wearing her veil, felt all eyes on her and her sister. But Malika seemed unaffected. She instantly walked over to the other young girl and introduced herself.
“Hi!” She smiled. “I am Malika. Are you Sídhil?”
“I am indeed,” grinned the princess. “So. What's your favorite color?”
“Definitely red. It's the color of the desert sands at sunset.” Malika smiled to herself, thinking of her homeland.
Sídhil shrugged. “I've never seen a desert. What's it like?”
As the young girls talked, small groups began to form inside the gigantic throne room. Eldarion and Aderthon found Elboron. Círeth sought out Fëalas. Nemir joined Malwen, Cwen, and Alodia. King Elessar stood with his wife, Amdirien, and the hobbits, while Elfwine left his wife with the King and soon found the other three companions from the Northern Fellowship. Alphros found them too.
But Adira stood alone. As she stood there, wondering what to do, a woman came up to her. So beautiful was she that Adira wondered if she was an elf.
“Welcome, Lady Adira,” the woman bowed to her. “I am Arwen.”
“Queen Arwen,” bowed Adira, surprised. “You do me great honor by addressing me!”
Arwen chuckled. “Come, join me and my husband.”
Adira nodded and followed her to the small group. She saw the hobbits and looked at them in confusion. “A saghir?” She spoke the last word in her own language, unsure of the Westron word for the small people.
“Hobbit, if you please,” Pippin smiled. “It's what we call ourselves.”
“Hobbit,” she spoke it aloud. “Nice name.”
“Lady Adira, these are my good friends and former companions Meriadoc Brandybuck, or Merry, and Peregrin Took, also known as Pippin.” Aragorn gestured to each hobbit in turn. “Here too is Elanor Gardner, her son Elfstan, and daughter Fíriel. They also are dear to me.”
Adira bowed to each of them. She then turned to Delwyn. The woman was tall and slight of build. Her blonde hair was neatly braided in a special style down her back and at her foot stood little Eldric.
“I am Delwyn, wife of Prince Elfwine of Rohan,” she smiled, shaking hands with Adira. “This is our son Eldric.”
“A pleasure,” Adira nodded.
“Finally, this is my daughter Amdirien.” Aragorn gestured to a talk, regal woman who looked very much like her mother. “She is a credit to her family.”
Amdirien chuckled and bowed to Adira. “He gives me too much praise because he is my father. Welcome, Lady Adira.”
“Now where did Sídhil go?” Arwen muttered aloud, looking around and not finding her youngest daughter.
Adira sighed. “I am afraid Malika will only be a bad influence on your daughter, my Lady.”
Aragorn laughed merrily. “Something tells me they will be bad influences on each other.”
On the other side of the throne room, near a door to a side hallway, Aderthon stood with Eldarion, Elboron, Elfwine, and Alphros. The grown men weren't paying too much attention to the teenager, but he was just happy to be there.
“How was Harad?” Aderthon asked Elboron.
He shrugged. “Hot. Dry. But the people are pleasant. Adira is quite a woman.”
“Careful Lothuial doesn't hear you say that,” laughed Eldarion.
Elboron immediately perked up. “How is she?”
“She's doing well. Resting upstairs at the moment. She was going to be down here but she grew tired and went to sleep.” Eldarion explained her absence calmly. But suddenly he grew grave. “However there is bad news.”
“What do you mean?” Immediately he looked worried. Had she gotten sick? Was the baby alright?
“It's your brother,” revealed Aderthon slowly. “We believe he’s dead.”