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Chapter Text

Jon hastened down the halls as swiftly as his feet may carry him, passing by startled servants, whereas before they could question him, Jon grimaced, his heart filled with dread. 'By the Valar muster the council and whatever Lord yet resides here, they are needed with all haste.' 

'Lalwen and Galadriel, my loves…I need your aid!' Jon said with great effort, and luckily, the Princesses responded immediately.'My dragon, why do you trouble us at such an hour?' 

'Something terrible has happened...Minas Ithil has been razed to the ground, and the White Tree was hewn down and burnt,' Jon said 

Neither princess uttered a word, but it was not needed; Jon had known them for years beyond count and felt keenly the sorrow in their hearts, for they understood the motive for this siege.

Twas provocation of war…The Lord of Mordor has issued a challenge to the Free Peoples of Middle-earth…desiring to be rid of his most abhorred foes, the Dúnedain.

Galadriel wept in sadness. 'Oh, my beloved Wolf, I knew these evil days would soon be upon us, but I had hoped beyond measure that it shouldn't be so near', 

'I know, I too wished our happiness to remain evermore, my Star,' said Jon, but we knew this day would come' I've summoned the council, and we must plan the counterstroke.'

'We shall come as soon as we are able, my dragon…Oh, how unfair fate is,' Lalwen said sadly.

'I know my little songbird, but do not despair; it is the sound of your laughter that may drive away the shadows and ease my heart ... Jon said happily, sensing his beloved's embarrassment and Galadriel's enviousness.

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Jon waited upon his throne in the hall of King's near half an hour had passed, and he worried they were delayed; then the great doors were opened and in came Lord Calmacil and Hallatan; alongside them came the lords of lesser fiefs, who were swiftly followed by Rhaenys, Daenerys and Rhaella. A further five minutes would pass before Arianne and Shiera arrived, and then Ashara came with Sansa and Arya hot on her heels, both looking rather pleased as this was the first time Jon had summoned them to a council meeting. The last to come was Galadriel and Lalwen, followed by their captains.

Lord Calmacil stepped forward and bowed low before greeting him. 'My Prince, you have summoned us for some dire need,'

"Verily I did, Lord Calmacil…I bear ominous news from Minas Ithil," Jon said, his countenance darkening.

"What happened, my love?" Shiera asked fearfully.

"Minas Ithil was razed by the forces of Mordor…And the White tree was hewn down," Jon said, and for a moment, no words were spoken as if a spell had been cast upon them until Shiera whispered, "No!" and the maiden of the sea wept freely; indeed, many tears were shed by the men of Westernesse the white tree, the symbol of their lost home, burned and lost.

Jon rose from his throne and embraced his dear Shiera as she sobbed, while, Ashara and Sansa did their best to comfort her.

"I endeavoured to use the seeing stone and perhaps learn something of the happenings abroad when I heard the cry of Isildur, who told me of the siege..." Jon said 

"Oh, Jon…it seems Sauron wishes to bring ruin upon the realm at last," Rhaenys growled, gripping Dramborleg grimly.

Jon nodded and returned to his throne before addressing his dearest sister.

"It would appear so sister," Jon said, yet he fell silent after that, perhaps pondering of the best course of action though this aroused the ire of chiefly Arya and Rhaenys, who were known as maidens of boldness rather than rumination.

"What shall be done, my Prince?" asked Lord Calmacil.

"We shall wait now for the council of Elendil and Anárion…." Jon said wisely.

"But Minas Ithil is besieged, and King Isildur may be in danger!" one of the lesser nobles yelled, but Jon paid him no mind.

"Minas Ithil has become a place of ruin, the white tree given to kindling, though there is still hope, even now King Isildur seeks to escape the city bearing a sapling of Nimloth as he did lo those many years ago…," Jon said with some happiness, knowing the White Tree would bloom once more.

Arianne approached his throne and took his hands in hers, her eyes alight with love. "Then what will you do, my Wolf?" 

"Bring me a map of Gondor and the surrounding lands," Jon commanded, and the servants at once lept to their feet and hurried off to procure said map.

The hall remained silent until the return of Lord Calmacil's servants; they were not alone Lord Azrubên hobbled in behind them, stooped low as a weather-beaten oak, yet his eyes glittering cunningly in the light of the torches.

They greeted the kindly man, but he merely nodded silently and took his place next to his Prince.

"Let's begin…." Jon said, hovering over the map, yet the Steward stopped him.

"I am afraid, my Prince, that I must first inform you that King Elendil and Anárion have conveyed their wishes to me," Lord Azrubên said, drawing the gaze of all present.

"Speak, my Lord," Jon said.

"Through great toil, I sought the council of Elendil and Anárion both were greatly dismayed by these dark tidings King Elendil has called all the Dúnedain to arms as for King Isildur, he yet lives and leads a company of men as were willing to remain or could be spared hoping to empty the city of those who yet remain," Said the Azrubên turning his piercing glance upon them. 

The Elves and Dúnedain wailed in a fury, knowing that the greatest confrontation against Sauron had come, of all the Dark Lord's attempts to earn mastery of Middle-earth during that Age, the creation of "The Rings of Power", the Fall of Eregion and the War of Eriador and lastly the Fall of Númenor… All of that was the prelude for what was to come.

"Did our King command anything else, Lord Azrubên?" Jon asked, and Azrubên nodded.

"Yes, King Elendil ordered us all not to go to fight in Minas Ithil and ordered you, my Prince, to marshal such men as can be spared and travel northward with all your kin and the dragons so we may determine what part they shall play in the days ahead…" Lord Azrubên said to the shock of most of those present who expected to march immediately against Mordor.

"What will happen to our City then?" asked Lord Calmacil.

"King Anárion shall come south and hold Osgiliath against the enemy until such a time as Elendil marshalls a host mighty enough to counter Sauron", The old Steward replied.

"He plans to ask King Gil-Galad and all the Free Peoples for help," Galadriel said, speaking for the first time.

"Verily, my Lady, our Kings have ever been bound by bonds of love and friendship; alas, this evil shall not be overthrown by the Dúnedain and Noldor alone," The old Steward said.

"King Elendil will ask King Durin for aid as well as the Counties of the Great Green Forest, and the Nandor who dwell in the Valleys of Anduin" Jon certain of his King's intentions.

That was a wonder to Men and Elves; their memories were long, and they remembered much the Nandor had never felt a great love towards the West nor the Noldor, so in case Kings Oropher and Amdir Should they resolve to respond to the call of Kings Elendil and Gil-Galad to march as a single host, this would undoubtedly be a historical event.

"Long shall this war be, and its renown shall not be less than the War of Wrath..." Jon said despairingly; in his heart he knew that Sauron's defeat shall not come for many long years, and thousands shall perish to see it done.

"Are you well, Jon?" Daenerys asked, troubled to see her nephew so melancholic.

"Aye, Dany though dark have been my dreams of late, Many Elves and many mighty Men, and many of their friends shall perish in this war, and I fear the world shall be lesser for it," Jon said, yet in that moment, Jon glanced at his loves and smiled. 'For them, I shall go to war…And for our children, who I am sure will come after this conflict,'  heralding the fulfilment of the desires of many of those present.

…"Jon!"...

Arya's shout brought him out of his reflections, and he swiftly regained his composure.

"I'm sorry, Arya, my mind is wandering," Jon asked.

"What shall you do, foolish cousin?" Arya asked, troubled; many laughed at the young wolf's cheek, yet Ashara was wholly unamused even after all these years her charge must behave like a ruffian.

"Enough, Arya…Show me the maps," Jon ordered.

"King Elendil's decrees were unmistakable, my Prince," Lord Azrubên growled, worrying that Jon would disobey his King.

"I know very well, my dear friend, but…I shall not be idle," Jon said, scrutinising the maps.

After several moments Jon began assembling, tracing the course of the Anduin from its mouth to the hinterlands encircling it.

Galadriel smiled as she understood her wolf's intentions.

"Lord Calmacil…If you were to hasten out of Minas Ithil by way of the Anduin…How long would it take to reach Osgiliath?" Jon asked, glancing at the aged warrior. Calmacil glanced at the map for a moment. 'It is difficult to know, but depending on the number of boats and the people they bring with them…The City of Minas Ithil is a mere nine leagues from here on foot half that should you go riding,'

Jon nodded. 'Soon, there will be battle on the fields. A sortie must be made ready. Let it be of mounted men. In them lies our hope, for in one thing only is the enemy still poorly provided: he has few horsemen. Take these and ride to the succour of Isildur and all that follow him, and escort them here we shall surely go together northward together.' 

Then, he turned to Shiera and Ashara. 'My dears, I've need of you as well,'

'What do you require of us, my dragon,' said Ashara. 'Shall we go into battle alongside you?'

"Nay, I would not risk it; gather a hundred of your best healers and set out with the soldiers bearing poultices, herbs, and food…Surely there shall be many men and their kinsman and their friends whose lives are in peril through hurt or wound… Then, once they've been tended well, we shall depart for the North," Jon ordered, and Lord Calmacil nodded in agreement.

"It shall be done, my Prince.."

"I will go and do what I can to aid Minas Ithil," Jon said, to the astonishment of all.

"Jon…have you abandoned all reason you are our Prince," answered Rhaella in a soft voice.

"I am the Prince of Osgiliath, Yet still I serve my Kings Isildur and Anárion…I will not abandon my Lords to torment and death," Jon replied.

"But you risk too much, Jon!..." Rhaella shouted, furious and alarmed by her grandson's decision.

'Much must be risked in war,' said Jon. '.Yet I shall not go to battle weaponless nor bare; I've a corselet of Khazad-silver and armour wrought of dwarvish hands, and the helm of Turambar, my panoply is fairer and more splendid than any that has since the host of the Valar went against Thangorodrim.' 

"But Jon..." Sansa started to say nervously.

"Let me go with you," Arya began.

"No, Arya, I shall not risk it," Jon said grimly to Arya's bitterness.

"I'm not a girl anymore, and I can fight as well as any warrior," Arya growled angrily.

"But you have never fought against Orcs, Goblins, Trolls... You have only fought against men, not monsters..." Jon said, unyielding in his refusal, but still, Arya pressed the matter.

"Don't forget that I fled from King's Landing, fool; I saw The Mountain and his men cut down the innocent, I saw father beheaded by that gilded whore and her wretched spawn...I HAVE SEEN MONSTERS...!" Arya cried in a fury.

"My answer is still nay..and that is my final word on the matter," Jon said emotionlessly.

"You are Foolish!" Arya hollered as she pounced upon her cousin, but rather than defend himself, he embraced her.

"Understand, Arya... I don't wish anything to happen to you... I don't desire you to perish. It has little to do with being a woman or doubting your courage; I'm responsible for you and Sansa... You've never seen a creature of such malevolence and cruelty; they are the bitterest of foes," Jon said, laying a kiss upon her brow, Arya smiled, her grey eyes shining in devotion and embraced her cousin gladly, revealing in his warmth.

This aroused the ire of those present, chiefly Sansa, whose bottomless blue eyes turned cold and fierce in envy.

"But you'll let the others go..." Arya said, still unsettled, not trying to free herself from Jon but rather enjoying their closeness. 

"They won't…Arianne, Daenerys and Rhaenys will remain here too and assist my grandmother in readying for the journey North. It shall take us some forty days to reach Annuminas, and I intend to depart as soon as we return," Jon said, startling the three Princesses.

'You cannot stand alone!' cried Arianne suddenly. 'You are my husband and shall remain by your side to whatever end!'

"It's a suitable plan, Jon..." Rhaella said, pleased her daughter would not be thrust into such peril though Daenarys looked altogether unpleased, as did Rhaenys, who glowered at Jon.

"You are a fool, dear brother, if you think I will let you go alone," Rhaenys said proudly.

"You will do as I say, Rhaenys," Jon said, but there was no kindness and warmth in his voice; this was no plea but a command given by a proud Lord of men.

"Oh, my foolish Wolf, these are dark days when we must march to war again," Shiera said resignedly, remembering the battle of Isengard and fearing that her beloved fool would be taken from her again.

"I'm sorry, my dearest Shiera but this is a task I would leave to no other, for you alone have mastered the arts of our kin in the lore of healing, so I must beg your pardon for asking you to once more do battle with the servants of the Dark Tower" Jon ordered apologetically.

"What will the rest of us do?" Rhaenys asked, eager to fight.

"As I have said, you shall prepare for the journey northward, and we must leave the City in good order for when King Anárion arrives ", Jon said, closing the maps.

"How do you know that Anárion will come so swiftly, Nin Mel?" Írimë asked curiously.

"Strategy my Raime -o úrin, we should not lightly abandon the outer defences; the Enemy must pay dearly for the crossing of the River. That he cannot do, in force to assail the City, either north of Cair Andros because of the marshes, or southwards towards Lebennin because of the breadth of the River, that needs many boats. It is at Osgiliath that he will put his weight, for it is the Capital of the Kingdom and shall give him command of the river for many leagues north and south... Anárion knows this and will hope to hold Sauron at the crossing,' Jon said.

"I expected to fight Jon," Arya said vexedly.

"There will be time to fight, Arya... Although I would prefer you not be so eager to do battle with such evils as we now face,' said Jon, turning his piercing glance upon her. 'You have never encountered anything like it, little sister,' It was a bitter poison knowing that he could not control Arya's wild spirit, even less so now she could wield a blade.

"But Jon..." Arya said, but Lord Azrubên decided to interrupt before another unnecessary fight could break out. 'Is that all, my Prince?'

"Nearly, send word to Emyn Arnen, inform Lady Firiel to strengthen the defences," Jon said pragmatically.

Hearing Firiel's name, the women present were filled with enviousness, particularly Sansa, who recalled the scheming noblewoman quite well.

Half a century ago, shortly after the spies of Umbar were executed, Firiel approached Jon as a proper noblewoman rather than a mere servant.

She introduced herself as the daughter of Faelher, one of the three servants who accompanied Amandil to Valinor.

Through tears, the noblewoman revealed that she feigned to be a maid to meet him and, if chance came seduce him, yet when she discovered his closeness to the Princess of the Noldor, she had resolved to cease her fanciful plot and instead come to him as a maiden of the Dunedain.

Although her pleas were sincere, Sansa was sure that Firiel still had the desire to seduce Jon.

The woman told him that she had lost her mother at a young age and was raised chiefly by her father's servants since she was born in Rómenna during the last days of Númenor, and her father was almost always escorting Lord Amandil.

So much so that he was one of the three servants who accompanied him on his journey to Valinor... And Firiel was left to linger in doubt as more of her kin were given over to the shadow of Ar-Pharazon; Indeed, the Elves and Westerosi thought this worthy of praise and compassion, so few had resisted the allure of the Lord of Mordor fewer still lived to tell of it.

And despite belonging to an ancient and noble family of The Faithful, many of their treasures were lost during the Downfall of Númenor, their lone revenue coming from the estates her father had purchased ere Númenor fell.

Truly, this was why she had such difficulties finding a husband, as none wished to have a dowry so small, but she is the last of her lineage and does not want it to end with her; once Jon had heard her tale, he was moved by her plight and sought to do all he could to aid her.

But none expected something so lavish...

With the discovery of the vast silver mines of Emyn Arnen, Jon was capable of putting into practice what he had learned in Khazad-dûm… chiefly the edifice of houses and other mason craft building a great village of stone to surround the mine; when the town was finished, Jon needed to establish an administrator who would be master of the mines and send its bounty without delay.

So Jon, in what Sansa believed was a silly whim or fit of compassion, appointed Lady Firiel as the Steward of the new village.

The appointment was hasty and surprised many as they never expected an impoverished Lady to be given such high standing, and many in Gondor whispered that she was another of Jon's mistresses, although no one had ever seen them together. However, Lady Firiel proved a clever ruler, keeping the village in good order and sending many carts of silver north.

Doubtless, they could overlook the matter if Jon would remain in Osgiliath, yet their beloved thought it his duty to make weekly pilgrimages to the village Firiel seized this as a chance to delight their dearest with extravagant banquets; bolder yet, she would lay her hands upon his or ask him to dance though it was all through a cloak of innocence often asking him to accompany her to the mines to witness the extraction of silver.

Lady Firiel may be far more honourable than the rest of the maidens who endeavoured to employ the elixir, yet she was not without guile,

'At least she and her scheming maids are now out of the City,' Sansa conceded.

"Yes, for now, yes... My Lady Galadriel, can we count on your support in this undertaking?" Jon asked lovingly.

"Of course, Lord Jon... This threat is for all the Free Peoples; I am confident that Gil-Galad's heralds will soon be heard in my Kingdom; I will send messages to my Castilian so that they are ready when the time comes; until then, we will help in whatever way we might…This fair city has become a second home for me and my kin," Galadriel said with a low bow.

'Thank you, my Lady,' Jon said with a smile.

"I suppose this council is over," Lord Calmacil said, keen to carry out his princes' orders.

"Indeed, Go now, and fulfil your duties in what way seems best to you.," Jon said grimly, returning to his throne.

The nobles bowed and departed one by one until Jon was left with his closest kin and loves.

When they were alone, Rhaenys and Írimë ran toward Jon, seemingly putting aside their rivalry and embraced him.

"Oh, my Nin Mel…" Írimë said, rushing towards Jon and kissed him fiercely before embracing him.

When the beautiful elf parted from him, Rhaenys swiftly replaced her and began to kiss him greedily, undoubtedly desiring to banish thoughts of Írimë from his mind.

"Don't fret, little brother, your elder sister is here… I shall comfort you, my dearest brother," Rhaenys said in a honeyed tone stroking Jon's hair and ignoring the jealous looks of everyone in the room.

"Thank you, Rhae, my beloved sister whose loveliness rivals the sun," Jon said, embracing his sister, who moaned contentedly, enjoying the caresses of her beloved brother, much to the ire of Írimë, who would rather her foe be savage by the swans of her nieces' gardens.

Rhaenys may keenly love the arts of war, though she is still a woman, and she too adores to be indulged by her dearest brother; indeed, very few had seen this devotion save Jon, whom she loves keenly. 

"Now war is upon us," Galadriel said sadly as she fought to stem her jealousy at Rhaenys boldness.

"I know, my beloved Star Sauron is loath to remain idle in his heart; there is hatred for many things; chiefly the Men of Westernesse a city such as Minas Ithil would offer a suitable target for subjugation," Jon said, considering all they knew.

"Much will change, my beloved wolf... My heart warns me that the great war that will define this Age is this..." Galadriel said, laying a kiss upon her wolf's lips, hoping to distract him from Rhaenys.

And indeed, it was so Jon parted from his sister, and Rhaenys glowered at her defiantly, yet Galadriel wouldn't be cowed and was about to send the young girl away when Írimë, seeing her opportunity, unexpectedly sat on Jon's lap, laughing melodiously as she embraced him tightly; those gathered, especially Galadriel, who was displeased that her aunt would foil her plans.

"Get away, witch!" Rhaenys yelled angrily.

"You've had your time Rhaenys... Now it's my turn..." Írimë said, embracing Jon tightly.

"You sleep with him almost every night!..." Rhaenys growled, regretting not having Drambolerg at hand, yet she had no desire to be dragged out of the hall by her ear.

"I agree with her aunt; it's not fair you should horde him so greedily," Galadriel said vexedly, yet her aunt laughed heartily. "Don't be a hypocrite, Artanis... it was but a mere day ago you spent time together, and now you act as if you've been parted for years beyond reckoning," 

Jon, for his part, only smiled at the youthful fights between his lovers.

'No matter the evils Sauron may bring forth…I shall fight until all strength leaves me, not only to safeguard the Free Peoples of Middle-earth but so I may see happier days with them long after. But, alas, I was hoped to show Isildur and Anárion the fruits of my labour in happier times no matter I'm certain they shall like them.' Jon thought happily before rising from his throne though unbeknownst to him, his beloved Star had read his thoughts.

'Did Jon forge something for the sons of Elendil? Truly my beloved enjoys sharing the fruits of his labour…Mmmm…Perhaps I should join him in this battle; it has yet to be glutted on the blood of Orcs,' Galadriel resolved silently.

"Cease your squabbling; there is much to do," Jon said, yet Rhaenys refuted him. "Don't trouble yourself, brother; this is between the elf witch and me," Indeed, she was cross with this witch who sought to steal her brother, yet she was equally vexed that he forbade her to go into battle.

"Truly, Nin Mel, this beast in the form of a woman tells the truth; this is not your fight,' Írimë staring at Rhaenys defiantly.

Though Jon did not give up in his attempt to comfort them…but they cared little Írimë endeavoured to mock Rhaenys while she thought to strike Jon for barring her from the battle to come.

"I hope Jon will be well…Tonight it's our turn with him," Ashara said happily, yet worried for her wolf.

"Don't worry, Ash, our beloved fool has suffered far more grievously than this," Shiera said, happy and amused by the scene in front of her.

Galadriel, Arianne, Daenerys, Sansa and Arya merely watched as their beloved tried to stop his sister and Írimë from quarrelling, occasionally giggling at the cheek of the princesses.

'By the Valar…That I should be the only sensible one here? Even the Lady Galadriel…Why should they quarrel here and not in the bedroom? Although I can't say I'm pleased that Lalwen is on Jon's lap,' Rhaella thought jealously.

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Minas Ithil (2 days later)

"Protect the rear…Slay all in your path!" Isildur bellowed, cutting down another Orc.

Minas Ithil had been suddenly assailed and razed to the ground in little more than a day. Soon the streets were filled with the cries of the dead and dying, and the bellowing yells of Orcs.

Two nights ago, Sauron arose again and declared himself openly, and Orodruin burst into flame, filling the air with choking ash.

Isildur had built Minas Ithil as a fortress to guard the pass of Cirith Ungol and warn away evil creatures that might still dwell in Mordor, yet upon learning the Great Enemy had survived the fall of their home, the realms despaired, worrying the Lord of Mordor would avenge himself upon them. 

As such, his father had bid him, and Anárion strengthened the defences of the Southern realm; thus, the task fell chiefly to him as Minas Ithil was nearest to Mordor, placed along the western slopes of the Ephel Dúath. Indeed, Isildur had done all he might to bolster his fortress, alas, the sentinels who had been chosen to watch over Mordor had imbibed in a great deal of ale and fallen asleep, and all Ithilien was under shadow as no dawn came.

The Enemy had finally made his move, yet he hadn't thought it to come so swift and cruel there came many black Orcs, Trolls, fell bats and wargs. Undoubtedly, Sauron greatly desired the ruin of Minas Ithil, and Isildur knew very well why …The Lord of Mordor wanted to eradicate the descendant of Nimloth that lay in the courtyard of the moon.

The burning of Nimloth filled Isildur with bitter rage; once more, Sauron had brought low his people, yet all was not lost; he had saved a sapling leaving it in the keeping of his wife, though it would mean nought if they could not survive the day. Yet the tree would take root once more; his mind was drawn to the Palantiri; they could not allow Sauron to acquire it; the sapling would undoubtedly be destroyed, but the Palantiri… The mere thought filled Isildur with fear.

If The Enemy claimed one of the stones... he may influence them by deceits or spy upon the realms of the Free Peoples, and though his father may hold mastery of the Stones, Sauron was an immortal Maia; his power and knowledge surpass that of any mortal man.

No, Sauron must never lay hands on any of the Palantiri.

Elendur, Aratan and Ciryon had managed to marshal adequate troops to repel the sorties of Orcs and Wargs, although the City had suffered greatly, and now they were besieged and their strength not so great as to beat back the assault. The Orcs had brought great engines for the casting of missiles, and though the outer walls may be unconquerable by steel or fire, Sauron has a weapon that has brought low many strong places since the world began. Hunger. 

They needed help and soon.

Fortunately, he had sent word to Jon, and with it, Isildur knew the Westerosi and their dragons may ultimately drive back the enemy, yet Sauron would return with a greater army, although it anguished him to flee his fair City, the eldest son of Elendil knew that he could do nothing more, the wisest choice was to flee down the Anduin and go northwards to Arnor as swiftly as able.

Isildur went forth sword in hand, accompanied by his sons and bravest men; they came upon the gates of the city and readied themselves for battle.

"Arise now, men of Westernesse!" Isildur yelled, and the knights of his household made a great shield wall around him.

"We will stand by your side, father…No enemy will enter while we are here to defend this City," Elendur said solemnly. Isildur smiled. "Thank you, my son... But our efforts will be useless at this pace; our only hope is that our companions from Osgiliath come with support," 

"Is it true that those strangers can ride dragons?" Aratan asked, staring at the great doors that began to give way.

"It's true mighty beast they are and their flames burn wrathful and hot we must hipe they come... If not, all will be lost," Isildur answered his second son.

"I never thought I would be gladdened by the arrival of a dragon," Cyrion said warily.

"Aye, son, but we can't wait any longer; now we must fight... Be ready," Isildur said solemnly and then drums rolled and rattled. A deep boom rumbled through the City like thunder running in the clouds. But the doors of iron and posts of steel withstood the stroke. Thrice more, the door boomed, and suddenly, upon the last stroke, the Gate of Minas Ithil broke as if stricken by some blasting spell, and the gates tumbled in riven fragments to the ground.

Through the broken gates came, roaring like beasts, a great company of hill-trolls out of Gorgoroth. Loftier and broader than Men they stood, and they were clad in black mail from head to foot and bore round bucklers huge and black and wielded weighty mattocks in their knotted hands.

'You shall not stand alone, Elendur!' cried Isildur and lept after his son.

Father and son evaded the Trolls hammering blows, each shattering the stone; the beast bellowed in fury when it saw its onslaught was in vain. But, alas, the foolish beast redoubled its efforts, and the mattocks caught Elendur's side, and he was thrown down. Isildur hurried to his sons' aid, but he was thwarted by two great Orcs; yet by fortune, Aratan threw a dart that pierced the troll's side, and the beast howled in rage, then Elendur stabbed upwards, and the blade of Westernesse bit keenly into the trolls scaley hide and his black blood came gushing out. He toppled forward dead.

Elendur swiftly pulled his sword from the corpse of the troll and rushed to rejoin his brothers in the melee.

They lingered like that for what seemed like days, and soon before the gates, the ground was choked with the bodies of many Trolls' Orcs and Wargs yet still driven as by a madness more and more came up. The knights of Westernesse fought for love of their Lord hewing down all foes that came before them; terrible was their wrath, yet it was then a terrible fear fell upon them, defender and foe alike; and all was silent, no cry of battle nor the singing of bows.

Then over the hills of the slain, a terrible shape appeared: a horseman, tall, hooded, cloaked in black. Slowly, trampling the dead and dying of Orc and man alike, riding forth, fearing no dart or weapon, here rode the Witch King chiefest of the Nine under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed, and all fled before his face.

All save three. There waiting, silent and still in the space before the Gate, stood Isildur and his sons unmoving, steadfast as a graven image of the Kings of Westernesse, and the vast shadow halted before them.

'You cannot enter here, servant of evil… Return to the abyss prepared for you!' bellowed Isildur, his eyes alight with wrath. 'Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!'

The Black Rider flung back his hood, and behold! he had a kingly crown; yet upon no head visible was it set. The red fires shone between it and the mantled shoulders vast and dark. From a mouth unseen there came a peal of deathly laughter.

'Wretched fool!' he said. 'Wretched fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Perish now and curse in vain!' for your tree was hewed and burnt and your walls taken! I claim this city and all its treasures in the name of my master Sauron The Great!"

And with those evil words, the spectre lifted high his sword, and flames ran down the blade at that moment; the chill grew deathly cold, and suddenly, the blades of his sons and companions shattered like brittle iron.

Though disarmed, the Men of Westernesse stood firm mighty was the fear of the Witch King, yet mightier still was the love for Isildur and his heirs; they shall die with a curse upon their lips.

And at that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, came a thunderous note Horns, horns, horns. In dark Ephel Dúath sides they dimly echoed.

Yet this was no Orc horn clear was its note like a rolling gale upon the plains, rekindling the courage of men, and to the astonishment of the Dúnedain, the darkness dissipated a little welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn.

In response, another sound rose in the distance, although unlike the first, it was terrifying, a thunderous roar that shook the very earth and the beating of wings akin to a hurricane.

Upon hearing the great roar, the Lord of the Nazgûl turned back, and with a dreadful cry, he sped away out of the city as swiftly as the black steed would carry him.

That was when Isildur saw in the distance many horsemen pouring forth, and from the clouds came great beast of fire and blood; the dragons of the North had come they fell upon the Orcs like a storm soon the field was bathed in flames of many hues, and all heard the wailing of the Orcs as they burned.

"Father, the dragons have come to our aid!!" Aratan shouted happily.

"The Westerosi have finally come," Ciryon said, unsettled by the delay of the Emissaries of the Valar.

"That's enough, brother, help has arrived, and that's the important thing...the morale of our men shall be unbreakable now," Elendur said.

"If fear doesn't overcome them first", answered his youngest son looking with suspicion and satisfaction at the remarkable creatures that had broken the siege.

"My children... Let's search for weapons and join the fight... We shall not rest ere every Orc is slain," Isildur said, eyeing the panoply of the Horseman and Men-at-Arms. 'This is Jon's doing; no doubt by the Valar, it's glorious.'

The Horsemen rode over them their spears flickered as silvery flames skewered the Orcish shields and hide, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, yet they could do little trapped now between the anvil of dragons fire and the hammer of the Men-at-arms.

Osgiliath's soldiery came forward, letting fly a great hail of arrows and then with a great shout, hurled themselves against the Orcish horde. The foul servants of the Dark Tower cruel were the Orcs, yet their blackened blades were unavailing against the silvery armour of the Númenóreans. The great men of Westernesse towered above the mightiest orcs, and their swords and spears far outreached the weapons of their enemies.

At last, they came to the valley before the City. A smell of burning was in the air and a very shadow of death... That's when Isildur saw it...

A man mounted on a marvellous silver steed, this horse was loftier than any Isildur had seen in his long life; he was even grander than many Dúnedain horses; its hide was likened to silver, and its hooves were shod with gold.

'That horse came from the Vales of Anduin... I'm certain...' Isildur thought, admiring the impressive mount.

Yet all was forgotten when he learned the identity of the fair stallions rider; he wore a Helm crested by a gilded image of Glaurung the dragon. The mere sight of the helmet filled Isildur with a mysterious dread, thus dispelling his doubts as to the origin of the splendid helm.

He was clad in plate that shone like silver upon a moonless pond and glittering mail that could not be anything but Khazad-silver; his glittering sword cleaved to and fro its blade shimmered like pale ice high upon the mountain peaks.

Jon leapt from his horse, and the stallion began biting a stamping any foolhardy Orc who rushed towards them, no doubt thinking them easy prey. He swiftly cleaved the head off another Orc, then brought forth his great shield; it was blue, blue as the boundless sea and was set with gems wrought as stars and on its face bore the heraldry of Finwë, a many-rayed winged sun.

The shield of the High King of the Noldor, Fingolfin, has joined battle again after thousands of years... None had seen the arms of the Mighty Lord of the North ere this Age began, and the sight of shining sword and glimmering shield filled all with fierce courage.

It was then Isildur recalled the old verse he had learned at the foot of his grandsire.

Fingolfin like a shooting light

beneath a cloud, a stab of white,

sprang then aside, and Ringil drew

like ice that gleameth cold and blue,

his sword devised of elvish skill

to pierce the flesh with deadly chill.

With seven wounds it rent his foe,

and seven mighty cries of woe

rang in the mountains, and the earth quook,

and Angband's trembling armies shook.

Yet he knew there was little time to admire the splendid arms and threw himself once more into the melee; the Orcs were few now, rather than battle, it became a route for Orcs have no courage save for that which their master gives them, and Sauron's chiefest servants were nowhere to be seen, it seemed that both spectres were cowards at heart fleeing before the might of three dragons.

"Stop...Stop, don't chase them!" Elendur ordered, earning everyone's gaze.

"Brother?" Aratan asked, yet his brother pointed yonder, and they saw the dragons had no thought of letting the Orcs flee, raining fire upon them or swooping low to clutch them in mighty jaws, hurling them on the slopes below.

"The dragons of the Westerosi are not servants of evil brother, yet they have not fondness for the men or elves... And even if they do not attack us, they care not should we burn from their flames," Elendur said reproachfully.

"Then this battle is over…" Ciryon said, wiping the blackened blood from his blade.

"Yes... For now... Come on, children, we must give thanks for the aid delivered," Isildur said wearily, looking for Jon amidst the soldiery.

He found him a few moments later surrounded by many mounds of Orcs; his face was bare, Ringil still in hand dripping with the blackened ichor of the Orcs.

Isildur noted Jon was unscathed, for such was his fortune and the skill and might of his arms. At his side was a lofty woman, her tresses golden but richer and more radiant she was clad in gilded mail and bore a silvered spear.

"Jon!" He shouted in greeting, and to his wonderment, Isildur saw that the woman following him was the Lady Galadriel; it gladdened his heart when he saw too those aiding his men to pile the corpses bore the heraldry of Osgiliath and Edhellond

Hearing his name, Jon and the Lady of Light and seeing the King approach, he smiled and bowed low, welcoming, "My King Isildur.." Jon said, and now it was Isildur himself who bowed to the Princess of the Noldor, and his three sons followed suit.

"My Lady Galadriel.." Elendil's heir said respectfully.

"Isildur, Son of Elendil..." said the Lady of Belfalas.

"It is a wonder to find you here, my Lady…." Isildur said happily, and Galadriel smiled merrily.

"Knowing the dangers you and your kin faced…My soldiers wished to join the sortie… So I resolved to accompany them," The Lady of Light said as she could feel to her irritation how her beloved silly Wolf was struggling to contain his laughter.

'As I remember, you were the most insistent on coming, my Star.' Jon thought. He then felt her displeasure 'Silence, Jon.' Galadriel menaced.

"Thank you for coming to our aid Prince Jon," Elendur said.

"Prince Elendur…I only did my duty and would do so again without fear or thought of peril to myself," Jon said.

"It was, and unfortunately, our beautiful city was razed to the ground.." Said Isildur's firstborn with sadness seeing all the destruction of his city.

"Don't fret, my son, this city is much more than timber and stone; it shall take years beyond count, yet the Tower of the Moon shall shine once more alas it despair for it shall not be this day; we must flee the city and go north to meet your grandfather..." Isildur said, surprising his children.

"Father?" Aratan asked.

"It is a wise decision…Isildur," Lady Galadriel said with a nod.

"Sauron shall never allow this city to rise while he yet endures, for this was a declaration of war; you haven't the strength to resist Sauron alone we shall tend to those who may yet live then do as your father bid march North and marshal the armies of Arnor and the Noldor," Jon said impartially, and they all fell silent at his words.

"Wise are you in the ways of war Prince Jon and worthy to are you of the burden we set upon your shoulders..." Isildur said, agreeing with Jon's words.

"As are you, King Isildur…I see in you the might of the Elf-friends of old and wisdom befitting the House of Elros; truly, you are a worthy heir to your father," Jon said, bowing.

"I thank you for your kind words, but we gain nothing by staying here... We must return to the city and tend to the wounded," Isildur ordered.

"Ashara and Shiera came to with a great company of healers and many poultices... We just need to dispatch them a signal that the danger has passed," Jon said, and the Lord of Minas Ithil was gladdened.

"Praise be to the Valar and the Wise for the wisdom they have given you...many were wounded by bow and blade, yet too came the Black Captain with his foul breath for which many now lay with fever or worse," Isildur said grimly.

"Yes, we to had noticed the presence of the Nazgûl, and we quickened our pace," Jon said, troubled.

"It seems that Sauron was determined to raze this city to burn the white tree; it saddens me to know that he succeeded," Galadriel said sadly.

"My heart weeps with despair when remembering that disastrous moment, but all is not lost. I saved it sapling together with the Palantiri, the greatest treasure we have... And we must keep it safe," Isildur said.

"Then let us be off, my King..." Jon said, nodding, yet as they were about to enter the city, Galadriel accidentally struck him with the butt of her spear.

"Oh, my apologies Jon... It was clumsy on my part," Galadriel said, feigning shock and sorrow for striking him, but Jon knew his star well and readily saw through her ruse.

"It's alright, my Lady.." Jon said, looking at her intently as she smiled.

…This is not over, my beloved Galadriel…

...We'll see my dear Jon...

Both lovers stared at each other defiantly while Isildur and his sons watched in wonder at the strange friendship" relationship between the Prince of Osgiliath and the Lady of Light.

At that moment, Jon whistled, before long there came the sound of hoofs; the magnificent steed appeared though he didn't come unaccompanied, trotting behind Lòmerocco was a remarkable mare of purest white, her hooves shod with silver both seemed wholly discontented if a horse could look dissatisfied mind you Jon was certain this was what it would appear as.

"Aye, my friend…I'm regretful I interrupted your efforts to court this magnificent mare…." Jon said, amused, and the horse brayed in vexation.

"Your steed is marvellous, Jon", Isildur said verily; he hadn't seen a horse of such majesty since his days in Númenor.

"Thank you, King Isildur; he was a gift from Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian; I'm convinced he was one of the finest steeds in the stables of Imladris and was often afield in the Vales of the Anduin…." Jon said, remembering what Elrond had told him of the Horse

"The Lord of Imladris must hold you in high esteem to give you such a gift…." Ciryon said dryly, and Jon glanced at Isildur's third son.

Reading his heart, Jon sensed Ciryon's distrust towards him and, reading his mind a little, understood that he distrusted too his companions. Yet, above all, he doubted Jon himself for the many boons granted by the Lords of the West, as well as for failing to deliver the treasures to the House of Elendil and for having touched a Silmaril without being burned.

Ciryon bore him no true malice and even respected him for his great deeds, only that he is partly jealous of the treasures and knowledge that Jon has collected over the years.

'Well, I can't condemn him; I was envious of Robb and his right as Lord of Winterfell...I have been blessed with love, riches, glory, strength, renown, lands…I have everything a man would want to have… So it is natural that somewhere there is someone jealous of me… Jon acknowledged.

'I see that my guidance on the uses of Ósanwë has benefited you, my Wolf, although you still have to be careful; reading the heart and mind are wondrous arts yet wearying, chiefly if you desire to do both.' Galadriel said sternly, and he accepted her words without question.

"Yes, thanks to the Valar, Lord Elrond and his wife hold me in high esteem, although only half as much as I esteem them, my Prince," Jon said, giving little thought to Ciryon's words, all the while hearing Galadriels melodious laughter in his mind.

"Enough, Ciryon… Although I find it odd, you should come here on a horse rather than your dragon…." Isildur said, desiring to approach Jon's horse, but Lòmerocco brayed and moved away from him, clearly not wishing another to touch him but Jon.

"Yes, it was a lengthy consideration… in the end, I decided to come on my horse thinking it would fill the men with courage to ride alongside them rather than above, yet Vhagar was not amused.." Jon said, glancing at his dragon, who had found it humorous to torment a Hill-Troll, battering it with her tail yet ensuring the blows weren't so deadly as to slay it.

"Well, despite everything, it seems your decision was wise, " Elendur said happily before taking a draught from his water skin.

"Yes, by the Valar, she acts more the jealous wife than the dragon of Queens", Jon sighed, acknowledging that all the women he knows have an unavoidable power over him.

'Oh my foolish wolf, have you not noticed such as of late?... Galadriel thought amusedly.

"Well, it seems to me that there nought now to do save tend to the wounded," Jon said solemnly, his thoughts drawn to Shiera. 'My sweet Shiera will be inconsolable upon seeing the White Tree; I should not have allowed her to ever gaze upon its beauty…Now my silver dragon will abhor Sauron even more…I am dreading of what she may do to take revenge upon him.' 

She had hoped to marry him when the tree bloomed in the summer, yet those dreams were now but ash upon the wind.

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At last, they entered through the shattered gates and saw the horror before of battle; many lay dead or near death in the streets filling the air with the stench of carrion or foul Orcish blood. Shiera said nothing and led the healers through the streets as men brought the bodies to great pits of flames, and so began the day of healing, as they called. Were it not for the actions of Shiera and Ashara, many a man of Westernesse would have perished that day.

As they went about their task, Jon watched Shiera as a hawk; she was in command of treating as many people as she was able and there they were tended well. For the leechcraft of Gondor was wise, and his beloved was skilled in the healing of the wounded and hurt.

There with them was Lord Calmacil; the old soldier looked wearied beyond grief, yet he never left their side guarding Shiera and Ashara as best he might.

But all of Jon's attention was focused on the beautiful Targaryen; she worked diligently and without hesitation, and at no moment did she notice his sight.

Yet deep in Shiera's eyes, there was grief unimagined. 'She holds herself well, yet I feel her anguish; that tree was the last memory of the home of her forbears, and again Sauron has robbed her of its splendour…I must do my best to be there when she needs me.' Jon thought sadly until a voice called out to him.

"Prince Baelon?"

Jon shifted to see that Isildur's second son, Aratan, was studying his armour.

"Yes, Prince Aratan?" Jon asked.

"How come you by such armour?…I've never seen so queer a steel it seems to swirl with many colours like a storm upon the sea…." The young Prince said.

"Ahh…It's Valyrian Steel," Jon replied to the amazement of all indeed; it was the first time the folk of Minas Ithil had seen Valyrian Steel… And all looked at it in wonderment despite the hardships they now faced.

Although among the Dúnedain and the Elves of Middle Earth, they had given it various names, Angloki" or "Anglûg in Quenya and Sindarin, respectively or the Dragon Iron in the common tongue.

'Maypahs, I should offer my gift to Isildur now with all this talk of Valyrian steel.' Jon thought.

'What gift are you speaking of, my Wolf?... Galadriel asked, suddenly startling Jon, who hadn't thought his beloved was heeding his words.

'Just a pretty bauble that I forged for Isildur and Anárion my Star, don't worry, you'll see it soon enough.' Jon said with satisfaction as he felt Galadriel's curiosity increase.

"So this is the mysterious Dragon Iron," Isildur said, eyeing Jom's armour with keen interest.

"It's Valyrian steel, or at least that's what we call it in Westeros," Jon said proudly as Galadriel averted her eyes.

…I felt that my Star… Jon growled as he listened to Galadriel's beautiful and melodious laughter in his mind.

"We had heard about this metal… But never have I laid eyes upon it," Isildur said curiously.

At that moment, and without saying a word, Jon took off his gauntlet and handed it to Isildur, who took it gladly and began studying it.

"It's surprisingly light..." Isildur said passing it to his son Elendur.

"The Valyrian Steel is hardier than common steel and roughly half the poundage, yet it is not as beautiful as Mithril, and it is certainly not as enduring; Mithril and, therefore, Maltagil are still metals of unsurpassed beauty and hardness," Jon said.

"Then why do you work with an inferior metal?" Ciryon asked.

"Simple curiousness, Prince, Valyrian Steel is part of the ancient and lost culture of Valyria; the secret to forming this metal was lost with the fall of the Freehold... I merely wished to recall the secret from the deeps of time," Jon replied, shuddering as he remembered the cruel ritual that brought about the metals forging.

"Now that you've accomplished that, what's shall you do now?" Elendur asked, handing the gauntlet back to him.

"Enriching it using the arts and knowledge of the Eldar and the Dwarves…Although it is proving to be a difficult task…The armour is one of my first endeavours with such steel though it is shoddy workmanship and hardly suitable for war." Jon said gloomily.

"I find no fault with this", Prince Aratan said.

"I am afraid, Prince Aratan, that Prince Baelon gained some habits from the Dwarves of Khazad-Dûm…such as finding fault with all he creates and smoking," Galadriel said, unable to resist mocking her lover, and all present laughed at her words.

'You will pay for this, Galadriel.' Jon whispered, yet his beloved laughed merrily; all the while the men of Westernesse couldn't help but wonder about the closeness of the Prince and the Lady of Edhellond.

Isildur guessed their relation seeing that Jon now wore openly upon his hand the Ring bearing the heraldry of Galadriel's house.

"I agree with the Lady Galadriel, your work is splendid, Jon, and I am confident that you will soon delight us with the fruit of your labour if your mastery as an armourer is as great as your skill as a jeweller and builder..." Isildur said, smiling, and yet Jon reddened, much to the Old King's amusement.

"Oh… There is no doubt that Jon's talent is blessed," Galadriel said, smiling with an evil gleam in her eyes, exhibiting the spear Jon gave her and leaving the Princes and their father breathless.

"Magnificent…" Elendur said, seeing such a splendid spear.

"Is the blade Valyrian Steel?" Isildur asked, surprised by the silvery gleam of the spear as opposed to the armour's greyish hue, and Jon nodded.

"Yes, that's the first blade of Dragon's iron strengthened with the ancient wisdom of Enerdhil... Although trying to do the same with armour is proving wholly bothersome yet I do appreciate such toils," I replied Jon happily.

"In that case, I think my father will be anxious to see your improvement, Jon," Isildur said, not knowing if he should ask Jon to forge a new sword for him since the previous one was notched greatly, something that Jon and Galadriel noticed upon their meeting.

"I don't doubt it, King Isildur, but I think it would be better if you and your brother saw them first... I brought some weapons I forged with "Valyrian Steel" in case they were necessary..." Jon smiled happily when he saw the wonder on their faces.

At that moment, Jon called several of the squires who had accompanied the army; swiftly, they came and knew what he desired; Galadriel merely moaned since her beloved once again bestowed many gifts with little in return... indeed, she would never understand his desire to part from such works so readily.

'Although I shouldn't grumble.' Galadriel thought, reddening as she remembered the gifts Jon had forged for her over the long years.

"While we wait for Jon's gifts to be brought forth, Prince Isildur, I would like you to tell me about the coming of the Lord of the Nazgûl; it seems queer that Sauron should bring forth his deadliest servant so soon in this war," Galadriel said inquisitively.

Slowly,... Isildur told his tale, with his eyes for the most part on Jon...As his story was unfolded of the siege and his duel with the Black Captain, Galadriel became aware that Jon's hands were trembling, and Galadriel knew her beloved was greatly troubled, even fearful..... At last, Isildur spoke of their coming and the flight of the Black Captain; his voice fell, and he lowered his head and sighed in weariness, for Sauron had come for his people once more just as he did those many centuries ago. 

This gave them much to ponder Sauron seldom went forth in such strength, and Jon feared the second against should be mightier than the last certainly; they would need to draw all armies to them lest the Southern Kingdom be wiped from the pages of yore.

'To Marshal, an army so vast will take many years; indeed, it shall take just as long to convince the Free Peoples to heed our council.' Jon thought, and Galadriel laughed at his words.

'Yes, chiefly King Oropher and Amdir.' Galadriel replied.

'Elendil and Gil-Galad shall need little council to march together; the same could be said of King Durin and Magni, yet I fear that old grudges shall abide ere this war ends, and Lothlorien and The Greenwood shall be poorer for it.' Jon said grimly, thinking of the shadow that now hung over the Greenwood.

Galadriel frowned, wondering what would cause her beloved to think such dark thoughts Oropher and Amdir were prideful, yes, but she doubted they would be so foolish as to cause harm to the Noldor or Dunedain.

Finally, the squires returned two carrying a great chest bound in iron, another who was undoubtedly one of her soldiers came to bearing a parcel of leather, Galadriel thought it strange one of her own should carrying such a thing without asking her leave, but she wouldn't begrudge him aiding the squires.

-------------------------------------------------- --------------------

'It seems that one of your soldiers resolved to help my squires to bring those items to see their beauty and quality first hand,' Jon said pridefully, yet she was not pleased.

'Silence, my Wolf, I don't like being kept in the dark about your intentions. Why do you so freely give that which you have wrought?' Galadriel said, vexed that her husband should relinquish such wonders so easily.

'Well, I don't rightly know what answer may please you. All my effort is to improve my own mastery and hence contribute to the glory and majesty of the Kingdoms of the Dúnedain, Noldor and Dwarves; it is from these people I have learnt much. I do not see it as a gift but as recompense for all they have taught me. Were it not for Lord Manwë, I would skulk in the Eastern lands, condemned as an exile by Lesser men. They have saved me from my woes, so I shall pay their children in kind, my beloved.' Jon said pridefully, leaving Galadriel speechless at the kindness of her beloved; indeed, she nearly wept at her foolishness.

'I'm sorry, my Wolf, I'm a fool despite all my years.' Galadriel apologised sorrowfully. 

'Think nothing of it, my Star... now let us give the Lords of Gondor their gifts.' Jon thought, amused, and Galadriel laughed in kind.

-----------------------------------------------

The squires set the chest before them while the Elf approached Jon and handed them the parcel before bowing and returning to their ranks.

"Take what you wish, my King. I'm certain these gifts shall prove their worth in the days to come…." Jon said proudly.

The Lord of Minas Ithil opened the chest with wonder; therein lay many weapons, daggers, axes, swords, and a mace, all wrought of Dragon's iron gleaming as thunderheads of winter storms.

"Magnificent…" Isildur said, taking one of the blades in hand. Isildur swung it mightly and was pleased by its heft though he was rather foolish and thought to test the keenness of the edge, readily slicing through the leather of his glove and drawing blood.

"Yes, I should warn you their edge is keen," Jon confessed, apologetic, and Galadriel laughed.

"Think nothing of it", Isildur said, passing the sword to Elendur, who took it graciously. "This sword is as light as Mithril…." Said Elendur swinging the blade in great arcs.

"Yes, but in beauty and strength, it is still lesser than Khazad-Silver Jon said.

"Can we take all laid before us?" Aratan asked happily, and Jon nodded. "Aye, and since they were forged with the sorcery and blood of our dragons, it seems that they will not be broken by the dark magic of the Nazgûl as easily as other blades." 

If only they had enough to arm all their men…perhaps the battle would not have turned against them.

"King Isildur…I have something, especially for you," Jon said, kneeling before the Great King; he cast aside the wrapping of leather, revealing a longsword in a scabbard clasped with golden gems.

Isildur took the sword graciously offered and slowly drew it from its scabbard, revealing a blade pale as the evening sky and on its blade was traced a device of the crescent Moon verily the light of the Moon shone coldly upon the blade and about the crescent was written in Quenya.

I am the splendour of the Moon, and my kiss is cold; flee from me, servants of shadow.

'Here, lord, is Ithiel, Daughter of the Moon, your blade,' Jon said. 'For many long days, I toiled in the foundries to forge this blade worthy of so mighty a man of Westernesse well it shall serve you in war and peace.'

"It's…Glorious," Isildur said, enthralled with the beauty of his new sword.

"I never believed I'd see something so beautiful forged by the hands of men, I had heard of your talent as a blacksmith Prince Jon, but this is the first time I may see its brilliance first hand..." Said the Elf who had brought the sword.

'You've surpassed yourself, Baelon…I have no doubt that the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm will be torn between pride and jealousy for your work.' Galadriel said, astonished by the brightness of the blade.

'Thank you, my Star, it wearying to forge Ithil and her sister, yet the endeavour was well worth it,' Jon replied as Galadriel looked at him bewildered. 'Sister?'

'I forged two swords, one for each brother…Ithiel's sister sword remained in Osgiliath, awaiting the arrival of its wielder… Jon said proudly. Galadriel thought to enter her beloved's mind, but she was swiftly rebuked, much to her displeasure.' JON!' Galadriel growled, wholly displeased her beloved would hide such things from her…It wasn't wise to teach her love to defend his mind.

'Don't be hasty, my Star; soon, you will see Anárion's sword… Jon said happily. Alas, Galadriel still struck a blow to his mind. 'By the Valar, that hurt me… Jon grumbled, deeming his beloved's pridefulness. 'Well…You earn it, fool Jon,' She replied proudly.

-------------------------------

And while the pair of lovers again began to bicker, Isildur and his sons looked upon the weapon in reverence Ithiel's beauty could not be likened to any weapon of this Age; it was a gift worthy of a King doubtless, in all Middle-earth, none possessed a weapon so mighty save his Father and Jon.

"Jon...I don't know what to say; it's a magnificent gift and extraordinary balance..." Isildur said, still testing his new sword.

"It is not necessary, King Isildur… Now I think we should rest a bit before returning to Osgiliath; it seems to me that the fastest way is by Horse," Jon said.

"It is…And you are right, there is much to do…But we are all wounded and weary; as soon as we are able, we will depart for Osgiliath and from there to the North where my father is doubtless planning the war," Isildur said cruelly as he thought of the Dark Lord and the terror he had unleashed upon his people.

"Don't despair, Prince Isildur. Your people are in good hands; Ladies Shiera and Ashara are masterful healers, and my own men aid you as well," Galadriel said in a reassuring tone.

"I thank you very much, my Lady…." Isildur said.

"Well, it's been a worthwhile discussion, but if you'll forgive me…there is one who needs my comfort," Jon said suddenly as Shiera suddenly bolted for the courtyard of the Moon Ashara, following swiftly behind her.

'Go, Jon, Shiera needs you now', Galadriel said compassionately as she felt the anguish in the healer's heart.

'Thank you, my Star, ' Jon said gratefully.

"With your permission King Isildur," Jon bowed low and left to seek out Shiera and Ashara, who were no doubt nearing the pyre of Nimloth.

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She was striding swiftly towards the silvered courtyard; she had to see it, she had to see the last redoubt of her people turned to ashes. Shiera could hear the pleas of her beloved Ashara behind her begging her to stop, but she couldn't, she couldn't...

'I must see it,' thought Shiera, and she did... Where before was a beautiful verdant tree with shining white flowers, now there was only a blackish shell from which a queer reek arose, its radiance was dimmed by the shadow and cruel it was for she had hoped to wed Jon under the tree, yet her dreams too fell like Nimloth the fair given to kindling for the fires of war.

Seeing such a scene, Shiera could take no more and fell to her knees, weeping while her sweet Ashara hugged her gently and whispered sweetly in her ear, vowing to never leave her; Shiera embraced her fiercely, fearing she too would disappear. "Shh...Everything will be fine; not all shall come to darkness; King Isildur saved its sapling, he will plant it, and it shall bloom, and all shall be well again, my love..." Ashara said, kissing her sweetly.

"No, it won't be and even if it was…Sauron will seek to destroy it as well," Shiera said desparingly.

"We won't allow it..." Jon said, suddenly surprising the two Ladies who didn't notice his coming.

"Jon..." Shiera said, quickly wiping away her tears, she didn't want her lover to see her in that sad state, but Jon knelt down and embraced her

"I will not say: do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.," Jon said, embracing them with tenderness, and Shiera sought refuge in her beloved.

"They burned it, they burned everything..." Shiera said in despair.

"Yes, but what our beloved Ashara said is true; a sapling of the tree was saved, and when the time comes, a new tree will bloom..." Jon said, laying a kiss on her brow.

"Unless Sauron destroys it…." Shiera replied with much hatred as she named the Lord of Mordor.

Jon sighed; he had known long of the bitter hatred Shiera felt for Sauron, although he never gave it true importance as Shiera wasn't foolish enough to seek him out, nor did Sauron see fit to torment her.

Now he had to keep a better eye on Shiera... Before she hurt herself.

"Shiera...Listen to me well, this grudge, this hatred you feel against Sauron...You must control it, not let it overwhelm you..." Jon said and smiled when he saw the look of disbelief in her mismatched eyes.

"But... You can't ask me for that, because of him Númenor was lost under the waves, because of him, you died... And now the last remaining redoubt of the home of our ancestors has been lost... He must pay..." Shiera replied, her countenance wrathful

"And Sauron will pay…But not by your hand, my love; please don't let anger cloud your judgment…Don't do anything you regret." Jon said.

"Jon is right, Shiera, that grudge you feel against Sauron is very well justified...But it will only get you killed, my beloved hedonistic fool, please, my love...do not go forth seeking death and vengeance..." Ashara said tearfully and kissed her beloved fiercely as she could.

"We do not ask you to forget your grudge against Sauron...Only, let us deal with him... But, do not place yourself in peril by your desire for vengeance...The war that my cousin Robb pursued was to avenge the death of my uncle, yet we know how his tale ended." Jon said, speaking of Robb for the first time in many years.

And Shiera lowered her head in embarrassment. 

"I will, I will put aside my desire for revenge if you promise to avenge Númenor and all the evils Sauron has brought forth, and in exchange, you shall give Ashara and I what we have long desired from you, my beloved", Shiera urged her countenance reddening.

"I will do it, my beloved silver dragon…But not only for revenge but to guarantee the future of all of us who live in Middle-earth…Sauron cannot keep doing this…And as for your request…What do you desire from me? " Jon replied though he knew the answer.

"Children, Jon, we wish to bear your children", Shiera answered with an excited smile and placed his left hand on her belly.

"It's true, Jon…We've waited too long…." Ashara seconded, taking his other hand and placing it on her belly.

Shiera couldn't believe how she longed to be a mother; in her distant youth in Westeros, when she was an arrogant and vain young woman when she enjoyed being worshipped as a goddess by hundreds of men, the idea of motherhood never crossed her mind, marring her figure and her beauty.

But now… There is nothing Shiera desired so greatly as to have a babe suckle on her tit with Ashara at her side and Jon, the father of their dearest children.

Shiera's dream was always to journey to Númenor and meet its people, but now…. her dream is to have a family with Jon and Ashara… An ambition that she would now pursue endlessly until it became a reality.

"Very well…But we shall wait until Sauron is cast down and peace may come to Middle-Earth," Jon promised resignedly and kissed them both before the remains of the tree.

And none of the three noticed that one last silver flower bloomed amid the smoke and ashes, the only witness to the promise of love between the three.

Notes:

Thanks to great_red