Fanfic Kin-Strife of Gondor ~ The Reign of Castamir

Michas leaned against the sturdy stone wall to oversee the wagon being unladen. Dry goods such as flour had been in short supply in the city and so the building these sacks were being stored in was one of the more formidable ones. All the harder to steal from or destroy. The men under his interim command toiled, carrying each within whilst the driver busied himself with the two horses that had brought his wagon to the city. Two horses. Flour could be heavy, yes, but not two horses heavy. Not for a wagon like that. And so Michas watched and waited, Halvarin’s letter burning a hole in his pocket all the while.

Halvarin’s missive had only arrived the day before and no word, not a one, from Mere-Lillith. Lillith. Her name was Lillith now.

”Big fire, don’t you know,” the driver drawled in his southern accent, ”Near burned Harlond down, it did.”

Well then, no guessing what Lillith had been up to. Michas shook his head from side to side at the tidings.

”Bad?” he asked, eyeing the men unloading the flour.

Only the bottom row of sacks to go now and that wagon tray floor was higher than it should be. Hence the two horses.

”For sailors,” the driver answered and Michas’ stomach knotted.

He looked sharply at the driver who shrugged as he fed carrots to his horses, ”How many were lost?”

“Oh…twenty, give or take, per ship – four lost in total and another three vessels damaged,” the driver answered, dusting off his hands on his breeches, ”Where might I stable overnight?”

“The Stag’s Lament,” Michas replied as the final sacks were unloaded, ”Two blocks further in.”

“Obliged,” replied the driver as he climbed back up to the wagon bench.

He nodded to Michas, flicked his reins and pulled his two horses about. The wagon bounced over the city’s cobbled streets, not slipping nor sliding nearly as much as it should. Eighty sailors dead. Hopefully Halvarin was not amongst them, but identifying burned men was a tricky business. Michas wiped the cold film of sweat that beaded his brow at the thought. Lillith had been determined to keep Halvarin clear of this but what if he had perished in a fire of her making? At her hand? He shook his head to clear his thoughts for there would be no way to know for now and he had other things to see to – like the new agents that had just been transported to the Stag’s Lament. Hopefully they’d have the sense to remain in the stables until nightfall. Hopefully.

”For the last damn time, we stay here,” Amarwen snapped, growling through her teeth at her three fellow companions.

”Who put you in charge? You’re new here just like-“

The woman of middle years cut off mid sentence as her eyes rolled back and she sagged towards to pressed earth of the stable floor. Amarwen nodded her thanks at the other woman responsible for this reprieve, turned her back and headed off to find enough hay to conceal herself. She located this at the rear of the stables and she was not alone for long for there were few other places available.

”Sorry ‘bout that,” said the younger woman currently pressing her elbows into Amarwen’s ribs, ”Sera’s new - don’t know what’s what, yet.”

“Who brought her in?” Amarwen replied, shifting away from the woman’s sharp elbow only to find she was jammed against the wooden slats that comprised the stable’s exterior walls.

”Me,” the woman beside her admitted, somewhat embarrassed, ”I’m-“

“You’re Parin. That’s your name here. And he’s…Jere.”

“What about Sera?”

“She already has a name. It’s new. She can keep it.”

The man she’d just renamed as Jere spoke up for the first time, ”And what’s yours?”

“Lillith,” Amarwen sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.

”You been here before, Lillith?” Parin asked.

”Yes.”

“What’s it like?”

Amarwen let that go unanswered for it did not matter what Osgiliath was like.

“How long are we going to wait here?” Jere asked.

”Until the local contact reaches out. His name is Michas.”

“But how does he know where we are?”

Amarwen sighed again, for the question only revealed just how inexperienced they all were, ”Silence.”

She closed her eyes again and settled in to doze, which she did so fitfully until Michas strode into the stables very late in the afternoon.

”You’d better still be here,” he growled, clearly impatient and beside her Amarwen could feel the others tense.

”We are, Michas,” Amarwen muttered, hoping her inexperienced companions at least recalled the name she had supplied earlier.

”Lillith?”

“You don’t want to spook these ones,” she warned and set about wriggling her way free of her cramped position to stand.

Michas studied her openly for a moment and she knew she had took a fright. She was still in her rags and the bouncing ride back to Osgiliath had not been enough to dislodge all the ash and smoke. She’d not bathed nor even combed her hair for over a week and she was reasonably certain that she had a liberal dusting of flour. For all of that, Michas’ only response was to lift one brow.

”I hear congratulations are in order,” he observed as the others managed to climb to their feet.

”You heard?”

“Quite the feat, that, and all on your own too.”

There was something flat, something amiss to Michas’ voice but she could not place it.

”Not entirely, in the end,” she said and then set about introducing the other three.

Michas eyed her for a moment and then turned himself to issuing their instructions. Amarwen drew back, listening to him deploy them about the city. He had jobs lined up already, and even places of residence. It was, she was happy to say, an impressive development and any hesitations she might have had about Michas filling Belas’ position seemed unfounded now. Soon enough her three wagon mates were on their way, Parin the only one to look back and wave at her.

Amarwen waited until they were gone before she spoke again, ”They’re green, Michas.”

“I’ll deal with it…just as you dealt with those men you roasted alive,” he returned, turning about to face her again.

He folded his arms across his chest and Amarwen braced herself for what she about to say, ”This is war, Michas. People die.”

He offered her a cool smile, ”But you…you’re no soldier, Lillith, are you?”

“You have no idea what I am.”

“Probably,” he conceded, ”But a solider knows another soldier. And, frankly, I didn’t think you had it in you. I stand corrected.”

“It had to be done,” she ground out, ” I’d expect a soldier to understand that.”

But Michas did not blink. He just stared at her until she could not stop herself from asking the one question she had tried to avoid.

”How many?”

“Sure you want to know?”

“No.”

He paused at that, weighing it up, ”Twenty.”

Amarwen felt as though the ground had been swept out from under her. Twenty?

”Per ship…and four were lost,” Michas continued.

A poker of ice speared through her, driving the air out of her lungs. Eighty men? Eighty?! Stars above, that was a massacre! Her stomach heaved and Amarwen lifted her hand to her mouth.

”But this is war…and it had to be done. Right, Lillith?”

Amarwen turned away to blot Michas from her sight but she could not stop her ears.

”Did you see Halvarin, Lillith?

The question spun her about again and she gasped, “Halvarin went to Minas Anor.”

Michas just looked at her. And looked at her.

And then she was running, running, running as wave after bilious wave washed through her. It was enough to drive her to her hands and knees, retching miserably. Halvarin was in the Harlond? Halvarin was on the ships? No, oh please, no… Anything but that.

Michas said nothing to her as he walked out into the dusk and how she reached her quarters, how she pressed through the ensuing days and nights, was lost to her. She was in a fog, lost as it were at sea and unable to find her way past the jagged shoals that were her nightmares. They woke her, screaming, night after night and on this night they drove her to Halvarin’s office.

She unlocked his door as she had before with a key she’d found in the librarian’s quarters. Stood to reason that the librarian would have the keys to the various rooms under his or her roof. Once within, though, Amarwen did not bother to lock the door again. She went instead to Halvarin’s cot, knelt by its edge and buried her face in its bedding. It held his scent still as grief rolled through her but that changed as his blankets became damp with her tears. She’d killed him. It didn’t matter that she did not know how the toll could have been so high. She’d killed him and now something was broken in her. Perhaps it had been since that final day at home. Perhaps it had come later, but whenever it had occurred she no longer recognised who she was now.

Amarwen was still in that fog when she heard footfall outside her door the following evening. She pulled open the door to find Michas in the hall. A muscle in his jaw feathered as their eyes met and then he jerked his head down the hall.

”Come with me.”

“Whatever you have to say can be said here,” she answered, grip on the door tightening.

”It can’t,” he replied tersely and turned away.

Without being sure why, Amarwen found herself following him through the library down a familiar path. She knew where they were headed before they got there for she had spent a week, longer maybe, tormenting herself with this.

”No,” Amarwen said, coming to a halt.

Michas only looked back over his shoulder before entering Halvarin’s office and then she heard the sound of voices. Discussion. Voices! Two! Amarwen all but tripped in her haste to gain the door and sure enough there he was. Halvarin leaned against his desk, travel stained uniform and all. He’d not even taken the time to discard his jacket. Whatever he had been discussing with Michas came to a halt as Amarwen clutched at the doorframe. Halvarin brought his eyes to hers for a long moment and had she not had a grip on the door her knees would have buckled.

His brow furrowed and then his eyes shifted as Michas cleared his throat, shifting his weight from side to side for a moment.

Alive! He was alive! She was still a monster, yes, but Halvarin was alive!

”Close the door,” Halvarin bade and she did so, leaning against it in a bid to claw back a shred of sanity.

Michas launched on a brief report on Osgiliath. He covered both the city’s official doings and its less official activities.

”Nearly completed and remanned,” he continued and nodded to a journal that rested on Halvarin’s desk, ”And that’s been updated too, but damned if I could find out what was happening with the sewer rats.”

Halvarin nodded, ”They’re an unruly mob, those rat catchers.”

Michas ruefully smiled and rubbed a hand over his hair.

”And I’m sorry to do this to you, Michas, but I need to you head south again. Southern Ithilien, to be exact.”

Michas’ brows lifted, ”Developments?”

“Our king has drawn a defensive line well to the south, leaving much of Gondor itself to rot…but he seems to have overlooked Ithilien.”

“Seems to,” Michas echoed, ”Beggars belief, that.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Halvarin said, ”I’d be interested to know one way or the other, as would Eldacar…is that right?”

Finally his eyes returned to her and in that time Amarwen had managed to pick herself up off the door and find a chair. Her head lifted at the question to find Halvarin considering her and Amarwen nodded.

”Yes.”

“I’ll leave dusk tomorrow," Michas supplied, "A small party, I think. Easier to slip past the Easterlings that way.”

And then both men were gazing at her, impassive. Amarwen swallowed against a dry throat.

”And what of you,” Halvarin inquired, his tone cautious.

Under their scrutiny, Amarwen found her hand lifting to her hair. It tumbled, untended, in loose waves around her face and down to the middle of her back.

”I have nothing of note.”

“Come now, I saw you at the Harlond, Lilleth. How did you get out?”

“There is a loose…faction there, not one of mine. They were drawn to the-“

“Moths to the flames,” Halvarin said cooly and Amarwen closed her eyes.

She knew she should hold her ground. This had been in planning for months. It had been of sound tactical merit.

”I tried to minimise the casualties,” she blurted out.

”You failed,” Michas observed and Amarwen shot to her feet.

”How was I to know that the deployment had been moved up? Those ships should have had skeleton crews for another week!”

Her response was met with silence and she turned away, mopping a hand over her face, ”I did not choose this. None of us did. Not those men. Not you. That choice was made for us- by Casta-“

“ENOUGH!” Halvarin shouted, his fist colliding with his desk and causing her to jump.

She turned about to see he was on his feet now, ”Eighty seven men burned to death. Not because of Castamir but because of pitch, and fire, and you! Stars below us, Amarwen, do you think I do not understand why you hate Castamir so? And yet, for all of that, do you think your father and mother would understand what you have done?”

Neither Amarwen nor Halvarin realised that Michas’ face had drained of colour.

”Do you imagine that I am proud of this, Halvarin?’ she returned, ”Do you think I wanted this? Do you believe that I am at peace with this? With any of it?”

“You had a choice and you made it.”

“I HAD A JOB AND I DID IT!” she shouted back and then all her anger leaked out of her into the floor.

She sank to her knees following it, whispering, ”And I will never forgive myself for it…but loathe it as I do, I would do it again. For it had to be done.”

Halvarin stared at her, expression bleak, and shook his head, ”Are river ships truly so important? Has it come to so small a thing as that?”

Amarwen sat back over her heels, ”First we draw him out…”

Michas, recovering from his shock at what had been inadvertently revealed, asked, ”And then?”

She swallowed again, for if she divulged this she was divulging a significant part of Eldacar’s strategy. It could be treason.

”Then strike him where it really hurts – his deep water fleets.”

“Madness,” Halvarin snapped, impatient, ”Setting Umbar aside, you’ll not even get into Pelargir.”

“We now have means to infiltrate Pelargir.”

Both men stared at her, flummoxed and then Halvarin shook his head slowly, ”No. No. No. This is lunacy.”

“This. Is. War.”

“But you do not have to fight it like this! Is it true that we’re stealing food and destroying storage facilities in famine afflicted regions?”

“NO!” Amarwen returned, appalled and stung. Was that truly what he thought of her? ”Why would you say that?”

“Because that is what the Guild understands!”

“That you believe their self serving words gives me pause to wonder, Halvarin!”

“Oh, so you question my loyalties? Is that what we’ve come to now?”

Amarwen drew herself up, ”I have nothing further to say.”

“Then I think you should leave,” Halvarin replied and so she did so, breaking into a run as soon as she reached the hall outside.

As soon as the door shut again, Halvarin’s shoulders sagged and his head bowed.

”I’m…I’m sorry you had to see that, Michas,” he said after a while.

Michas rubbed a hand over his head again, ”Is that…that’s really her?”

Halvarin’s eyes closed at the question and Michas pressed on, ”Your Amarwen of Edhellond?”

All those years confiding in each other as recruits, Michas knew exactly what Amarwen of Edhellond meant to Halvarin. She was all Halvarin could talk about each time he returned to training. Amarwen said this and Amarwen did that. Given that Amarwen had killed over eighty men in one attack, Michas had a hard time believing that Amarwen was a delicate maid with a keen love for Elvish poetry but he could certainly believe she was who he had said she was. It explained everything, every damn thing, that had been going on at Osgiliath of late and he was embarrassed he hadn’t put it together before now.

Halvarin looked up at him, haunted, ”Please, Michas, don’t turn her in.”

Michas shook his head from side to side, ”I thought she died. She'd be the most wanted criminal in Gondor and Harad alike were she not dead.”

“In way, perhaps she did,” Halvarin sighed, eyes on the floor again, ”Though perhaps that is unfair.”

Michas shrugged, ”You wouldn’t be the first. I…ah…may have told her that you’d been lost in the fire.”

Halvarin’s head bounced up at that and Michas held his hands up, ”I didn’t know! Really, I didn’t…you might have been and you mightn’t have been…and I was worried. I was upset and I didn’t know she was...”

He sighed at his own words, ”I sound just like her. She didn’t know the deployments had been moved up…”

There was silence between the two men for a while before Michas spoke again, ”Look…I hate to agree with her but we are at war and war is terrible. It’s messy. Mistakes are made. We both know that…and it’s not as though she is capering gleefully on their graves, is it? And whilst I share your concerns at the overall strategy…I…Look, I’ll head out tomorrow. All things considered, we can hope that they really have overlooked southern Ithilien because if they have then maybe this madness just might work, right?”

And with that Michas was gone.

Come the following morning, Halvarin found himself pacing the hall outside the door of Amarwen’s quarters. She was nowhere to be found in the library for he’d searched it thoroughly and now here he was. Back and forth he paced before he resolved to knock but there was no answer. He pressed his ear to her door and then, frowning, he drew back and kicked the door open. It gave easily, probably why the last librarian had not been able to find refuge here during the city’s sack.

The bed was unslept in and the room was empty save for a single sheaf of parchment left on the table.

”I’m sorry,” it read, ”For everything.”

And he knew, then, that she had gone. Amarwen had fled Osgiliath and to do what he could not begin to guess.

How was it, Halvarin wondered, that Beregon did not know where Amarwen was? Would she have split away to act on her own, sundering herself from those she had worked so closely with? And there were the spectre of the less scrupulous radical factions springing up across the realm…was she involved with that? Halvarin wrapped the twine around his fingers, as was his habit now, and looked to the door of his office in the passing hope that he’d see her standing there. But his door was empty and so Halvarin wiped his brow and turned to read the latest reports arrived from the Guild.

There was little in them about the troubles and of that, nothing that seemed to suggest Amarwen was involved. Halvarin frowned at them, aware that he had a great many other things to attend to not least of which was keeping Osgiliath’s role within the rebellion from prying eyes. As badly as he wished he could quit Osgiliath and set out to find Amarwen, he knew he could not and so he pushed everything that she meant to him back once more. Well over a year had passed since that disaster at the Harlond, and the last time he had seen or spoken with her. She would turn up, he told himself, for she was clever and brave and she had to. The idea of world in which she was not present was a notion he could not abide. He would watch for her always, waiting, hoping for her return.

As the sweat started to bead on his forehead again, Halvarin’s thought moved to how time had burned away. If he thought as a Guildsman, he had languished in his assigned post in Osgiliath overlong, exiled from the sea and all that occurred in the south. Still, Halvarin counted himself fortunate to have such an assignment. He looked again at Michas’ reports on the activity in Ithilien. Considering that the Haradian wars continued as Castamir pushed his fleets ever farther south, the eyes of the usurper had not long rested on the north after the burning of the ships.

Last year, when Michas had taken a small band south through Ithilien, he returned to report that fortresses were indeed being built. They were north near the place where the Emyn Arnen reached southeast toward the Ephel Duath. It was precisely the place for fortifications from both a tactical and strategic sense, closing the gap on the map he had studied a year ago at Minas Anor’s Guildhouse.

Michas naturally had set a watch and the local Rangers were more than willing to report the progress of their construction. There was no love for Castamir in Ithilien and Halvarin was aware a path had been established that allowed free movement past the strongholds unseen. He looked again at the latest reports and still there was no mention of Ithilien. This was encouraging, he thought as he made some notations on his own map and then frowned as the nub of an idea nudged his thoughts. He reached for his flagon of water but it was empty. As if his mind was read, a light tap on the door was heard and Halvarin looked up.

”Come in Lady Railan,” he said, adding the honourific for the way it made the young woman smile with quiet pride and delight.

She bore a large pitcher of water which she set on Halvarin’s desk before she curtsied to him, ”Water, m’Lord, drawn from the well on the lowest level of this building. It is clean and cool, and quite refreshing.”

He studied her for a moment before nodding, and she filled his flagon and handed it to him.

”Thank you Railan. I take it you are no longer cold?”

“No m’Lord. This summer heat has finally driven the chill from me.”

Halvarin sipped the cool water and closed his eyes as his hands wrapped around the cool flagon.

”M’lord, is all well?”

Halvarin shook his head slightly as the sweat on his brow seemed chill, ”Yes… yes Railan. I was thinking of the day I found you this winter past.”

Railan shivered at the statement and moved around the desk, shy and cautious. She lifted the hem of her apron and dabbed Halvarin’s forehead and neck, relieving it of sweat.

”I live because of you m’Lord, and I will be forever indebted to you. I remember when I awoke by that fire and saw you there. You told me strange stories of Harad, of the heat and the humidity and the tiny flies that bit you,” Railan’s voice was soft and she was, he knew, entirely too close but he had no desire to humiliate her and so Halvarin remained utterly still, ”Is the heat of this day much like that in Harad?”

“No, this is wonderful compared to the forests of rain in Harad. It’s much less steamy. The air does not feel as though it could crush you beneath its weight. This is perhaps more like their northern desert near Khand where I hear is much drier. I have not been there myself, but I have talked to some who have.”

Halvarin bit off, aware that he was rambling, and kept his eyes locked intently on the map before him. Railan stepped away and he dared glance up to find her staring off into the distance, her mind deep in thought. It occurred to him again, as it had the day he had found her, that perhaps there was a great deal more to this seemingly simply maid. One of Castamir’s, he wondered, or one of Eldacar’s or even, he had to allow, one of Amarwen’s now.

One of Railan’s hands rested on his desk and he picked this up in his own, breaking through her ruminations to offer her gentle words, ”I thank you Lady Railan for all you do here. You work tirelessly to keep this library clean and the books and parchments in order.”

Railan blushed at his praise and looked down to where her hand was in his, ”It is my honour to serve m’Lord. The wage you provide is most generous, but unnecessary, for I would serve freely.”

Her eyes, a deep glowing brown akin to her hair, lifted to his as he spoke, “You are the librarian of Osgiliath, the caretaker of all the knowledge that is housed within. The kingdom pays you to do this, not I. And to have found an unknown well in the depths, I see you have been doing much exploring in this place. Again, I thank you.”

Halvarin stood as he spoke, shifting his tone to a more formal one, and released her hand. Railan held his eyes for a moment before she hung her head, cheeks colouring, and inwardly Halvarin cursed himself. He reached out to gently lift her chin so that Railan again met his gaze.

”Know Lady Railan that owe me naught. You need not call me lord, for I am not. I call you lady because you are. You are wise beyond your years, and other than your predecessor, I could not think of anyone else better to entrust this precious library to. I think your predecessor, who first restored this place to order would appreciate all the care you take with the wealth within these walls. It has passed to you, and should you feel the need to go, it will be a better place from all you have done and pass onto to another.”

Railan swallowed at this and looked away for Halvarin’s eyes changed, as ever they did when he spoke of her predecessor. She had found little of this mysterious librarian save from what the collection could tell. The only titles arranged as carefully the seafaring collection were the collections on ship building and Elvish poetry.

”Will you tell me of my predecessor?” she asked and, as per usual whenever the topic had arisen, Halvarin sighed at the question.

The way his eyes softened whenever he spoke of this predecessor told Railan that the previous librarian had been a woman of great importance to Halvarin. A mysterious woman she felt more than a little envious of as she watched Halvarin withdraw into his thoughts.

What could he say about her, he wondered. Tell her about Lillith the smuggler? He could not tell her of Lady Amarwen. No, only Lillith the librarian could he speak of. His thoughts bounced about and Halvarin was relieved when Michas strode into his office.

”Excuse me, Lord Commander,” his use of Halvarin’s formal title undoing everything he had just told Railan, ”I have matters of import to discuss with you.”

Halvarin waved him in and looked back to find Railan had removed herself safely to the other side of his desk again, ”Another day perhaps. Thank you for the cool water m’lady.”

He gave her a nod, hoping his dismissal was gentle enough. Railan curtsied to both men and quit his study without further word or delay, expression unreadable. Michas followed her and closed the door behind her.

Immediately Halvarin asked, ”Have you found more weapons?”

“No,” Michas replied as he returned to Halvarin’s desk.

He pulled papers from his vest and laid one upon the desk, ”A crude yet detailed map of the Castamir’s defences in Ithilien. The east track is also masked, which we have used to avoid detection when passing by. Our scouts have been able to push south to the Poros, where the next stronghold is. Between there and the two forts near the road at Emyn Arnen, there is nothing.”

“Has anyone else been sighted using that trail,” Halvarin inquired and Michas shook his head.

Well, Halvarin thought to himself, if Amarwen was pushing south on her own she’d take care to go unobserved by everyone. Still, it had been worth a try. Halvarin studied the crude map and made some additional notations on his desk map.

Once he was satisfied it was updated, he asked Michas, ”What else do you have?”

“A message came from Vilmaith in Rhovanion. She was the one we extracted not long after you were appointed Lord Commander.”

“I recall. What does she say?”

”We shall return, she has written atop a note signed by… Vinitharya. He says they had been granted leave by the King of Rhovanion to raise an army. With those that escaped Gondor and those willing to join from the Rhovanions, they will work to gain strength. But, the might needed to challenge Castamir is such that Eldacar’s return will be some years away yet.”

Michas handed that parchment to Halvarin who quickly folded it up and put it inside his vest. The two men exchanged glances, both aware that tidings of this delay could not be more widely spread. In fact, it was almost best that these tidings never arrived from the north for the many years they would have to endure yet would be hard, dark years.


The weeks passed under the heavy yoke of summer’s heat. The city well had gone briny but the well under the library building continued to provide good water still. Halvarin ordered it to be used to supply water to the people of the city, and its distribution went smoothly for the most part. If there were any who still feared the Lord Commander served only Castamir, their doubts were dampened by this benevolence and his general handling of the city’s public administration.

Michas was now firmly in charge of the City Watch and the Anórien Guard, whose ranks now clearly supported the return of Eldacar. As for the sprinkling of those within the ranks devoutly loyal to Castamir, a series of unfortunate happenings unfolded. Accidents in training or simple disappearances. In general, the morale of the city started to lift. Normalcy began to return and with that, so did people. Osgiliath’s collection of quiet, empty houses began to diminish.

When the rains came in September, there was for a day dancing in the streets. Halvarin saw the joy on the faces of a people that had suffered, their hope renewed by the cool autumn rains. The day the rain started was the day a messenger came from Minas Anor.

”I seek Halvarin, Lord Commander of Osgiliath, in the name of King Castamir,” he said to the guards at the gate.

The men there moved the broken timbers they used and pointed him towards the still cracked Dome of Stars. Once he had ridden through, the men of the gate considered each other in silence, faces grim.

The messenger rode forth through the streets toward the library. He came to the wide square in front of it and found the way forward blocked with people celebrating the rain. There was laughter and singing, children ran through the legs of adults gaily, but Halvarin marked the man ahorse, clad in Castamir’s uniform, and so he made his way out of the crowd to approach him.

”Do you seek the commander of the City?” Halvarin asked, heart sinking as the messenger nodded.

”I am he, Halvarin, Commander of Osgiliath,” he admitted and with that the messenger dismounted to hand a thick bundle bound and bearing two seals: that of Gondor and that of his Guild.

”May we find somewhere out of this rain, Lord Commander?” the man inquired as Halvarin took all this in and so he nodded and beckoned the man to follow.

They went up the stairs and into the library, pushing just past the doors.

Once within, the messenger said, ”I am to wait until you have read these, and take any replies back with haste.”

“I understand,” Halvarin murmured as he broke open the binding and read the letter.

With it was another sealed parchment with his orders and he looked up at the messenger, ”I will write up my reply in short order. Until then, you may rest here or if you will, join the revelry without.”

The messenger peered back out into the rain at that and then selected a chair just inside the doors, his preference clear.

Halvarin pushed his hand through his wet hair, rain dripping onto the marble floor he stood on, and made for his office. He had known, of course, that new orders could arrive at any time and so the fact that they were here now was simply the way of things.


Once in his office, he read them again to be sure he understood matters clearly and found that he was to report to the Guildhouse in Pelargir at his earliest convenience. He was also to settle his affairs and name his replacement as commander, suggesting that this was another permanent assignment and he would not soon be returning to Osgiliath. His time as Lord Commander had come to an end.

Halvarin wasted no time penning his reply. He named Michas as his replacement, and would set out on the riverboat Fury as soon as the river flows increased from this rain. He would estimate it would three days, but if they could leave sooner, they would. Before the hour was done, the messenger set out back to Minas Tirith, and Halvarin sent word to the captain of the Fury informing him that he would have a passenger aboard. Then Halvarin wasted no time to clear his desk of his belongings. His folio of reports and maps and a scrap of waterstained golden velvet he had managed to acquire were all tucked away but the twine he placed in his pocket. Next, he set to packing a large sack of the things he would not need before he left.

A faint noise in the hall outside his door drew his attention and Halvarin turned about.

"Are you leaving m’Lord?”

Railan stood there, dripping wet and a forlorn look in her eyes.

He nodded, ”I have just received new orders. Michas will be Lord Commander of Osgiliath now.”

She gazed him steadily for a long moment and looked down. He was, then, reminded of the bitter tale of Erendis and Tar-Aldarion.

Railan swallowed thickly before she raised her head again, ”When do you leave m’Lord?”

“Dawn, two days hence. Earlier if the river rises sooner,” he replied.

Railan looked at him, taking this in, and turned without further word to walk back out into the rain. Halvarin stood at the door and watched her for a moment, but it would be no kindness to comfort her. He was a mariner, and the only other love his heart had room for was given to another, and so Halvarin soon returned to clearing his quarters.

Having set as much in order as he could, eve of his departure fast arrived. Michas had arranged a small gathering to say farewell. It was Halvarin’s hope that Michas would be left to his own devices here in Osgiliath as he had been. Castamir seemed unlikely to shift his focus from the south, and Halvarin and Michas spent the evening in deep talk over their flagons of ale. Osgiliath had secured a brewer again and it would be something Halvarin would miss, he was sure, wherever he was bound to after Pelargir.

Finally, the hour had come and Michas gathered their small band together.

”It has been an honour to serve with you again Halvarin,” he said and men banged their flagons upon the table in agreement, ” Until the next time we meet, may the road be fair and the seas safe.”


It was late indeed before they all left and when they had Halvarin wandered up to the Dome. There the moonlight cast wavering shadows through the cracks. The pause in the rain and the break in the clouds had set a chill over the city. Autumn had arrived and he was reminded of the night he had spoken with Amarwen here. There had been so much he had wished to say to then but his sense of duty had restrained him. If he had taken her into his arms then, kissed her and proclaimed his love for her, what might have been different? Had he that moment again, he would not hesitate.

”Oh my lady, where are you now?” he murmured to himself, ”Is it too late for us? Was it always too late? Was I a fool to think there could be a time for us?”

He sighed and with a last look at the dome, turned and went to his quarters for the last time. And there he dreamed of black hair flying in the wind as she smiled back at him through it. They stood under the sun on the rolling deck of a ship she had made, a ship he guided through the oncoming swell. Over the sound of the sea, the wind and the gulls, she laughed with glorious abandon as she stretched out her arms to the wind filled sheets and wide blue sky over head.

Halvarin was a changed man after his time in Osgiliath. He knew this as he sat aboard the Fury bound for Pelargir and his next assignment. The ship stopped in Harlond long enough to pick up two passengers. One was the messenger who had come to Osgiliath only days before. When he saw Halvarin, he came over and handed him a sealed parchment. It was his assignment in Pelargir…. He was promoted to Executive Officer and assigned to a new ship under Captain Silares.

Halvarin’s eyes closed as he kissed her, drinking deeply from her lips. Feeling safety in these familiar gardens, he let his hands slide over Amarwen’s back to her hips and squeezed as she intensified the passion of their embrace. The grass nearby would be softer than the straw in that stable, he thought in a heated daze, and Halvarin lifted her as she wrapped her legs about him. He held Amarwen close as he moved around the statue and up over the stone edge of the path. Setting her to her feet, she grabbed his tunic and pulled him forward as she fell back onto the grass as they entangled themselves into one.

Halvarin and Amarwen awoke in the chill night as heavy dew blew in from the sea. The half-revealed moon had sunk low and Halvarin, pulling Amarwen up after him. He looked about as she re-ordered herself, and followed suit. Then he slid his arms about her waist and pressed his forehead to hers.

”Do not allow those final dreadful days hold victory over our lives, my love. We work together for a common cause and may soon we achieve that which we strive for,” he told her, hoping she heard and took from this the hope they all so desperately needed, ”Are you ready to return to your halls, Amarwen? It must be hard to return to this place.”

“More difficult than I ever imagined,” she said as she looked up the path towards her home.

She started to walk away but Halvarin held her hand still and she paused to look back, ”You are not alone, my love. I will resign my commission and resign from the Guild so that I do not have to leave you here when the ship sails away.”

Amarwen turned back to him proper at that, ”Do not be so hasty, Halvarin. You are needed inside the Guild. There is time before the ship is ready to leave, and that time we will use well… for us, and to plan. Now come, we should return. I am sure we have been missed."

Halvarin took her arm in his and they slowly walked back toward the Great Halls of Edhellond… Amarwen’s halls. But before they could enter, Halvarin turned to kiss her swiftly on her brow.

He whispered, ”There is something further I need to speak with you about. I was going to do it in Osgiliath, but you had disappeared before I could. It concerns information I had received back then… about what the Guild knew of the rebellion. It is delicate, requires privacy.”

Amarwen paused and considered Halvarin for a moment, ”There is much to discuss of our work going forward.”

She turned back to the door and took a breath in a bid to steady herself. It was only a little less hard entering these halls a second time.

Holding to Amarwen, torn between being bitter and relieved she was there, Halvarin slowly felt the swirling torrent of burning pain reduce. Yes, Merece was Eldacar’s leader of Gondor's rebellion, but with the growing discontent with Castamir’s rule, other splinter groups outside the known resistance were beginning to gain strength. He remembered that being the case in the north in Osgiliath and Minas Anor. As much as the resistance wished to have a united front against Castamir, the rogue elements were becoming increasingly bold and he knew it was not fair to hold her to blame for this.

Finally he pulled back, lifted his head to meet Amarwen’s tearful, wide eyes. She was deeply injured, he saw, by a fear he had set within her.

Halvarin cupped her face within his hands, holding it before his eyes, ”I do not blame you Ami and I sorrow at my unkind words. I love you and hope you might forgive my harshness. I am torn in many directions right now.”

He drew a shaking breath, ”I loved Father and yet I also loathed him. I do not think my feelings for my father are like those you have for your mother.”

Halvarin kissed her cheek before turning to watch the sea as the waves pushed at their feet. He felt her arm wind around him, pulling him against her hip. His father was dead and the numbness he felt seemed to have blunted his feelings. He should be sad and angry about this. His father had been the central fixture in his life. All the years through the schooling, Halvarin wanted to be just like him. But Halvarin found himself thinking of his mother.

His arm wrapped around her, pulling Amarwen close. ”I barely knew my mother, but now, at this time, I find myself thinking of her.”

“Will you tell me of your mother? Of what you remember? I do not remember her at all,“ Amarwen answered and Halvarin slid his hand from her hip and up her back.

He looked to where she stood beside him, , ”I am glad you are here with me now, my love. And yes… I will talk of my mother, and of my father.”

He turned to look out over the waters that cast small whitecaps as he remembered back as far as he could. After a few moments of silence but for the rhythm of the breaking waves, he started to speak.

”I think I was five. That is my last memory of Mother. She had fallen ill with a fever a few weeks after my father returned from a voyage away south. I remember seeing her laying there in bed, her dark hair all combed and shining. I remember her hair, for I must have snuggled in it a lot when I was little.”

At this Halvarin paused to consider Amarwen’s dark hair whipping back, unbound and free. He took Amarwen’s hand into his and kissed it before looking out to sea again.

”Father did not want me to see her there that day, for he feared that his only child would fall ill just as Mother had. But he was called away by his Captain for a time, and I slipped in and climbed onto the bed with her. She opened her eyes and smiled at me when I jostled her and she put her arm around me and held my hand. I hugged her, for I had missed her so, and she ran her fingers through my hair as I started to cry. I knew my mother was going to die, and as much I wanted to somehow prevent it, she reassured me that all would be well. She died later that day.”

Halvarin unknowingly had let go of Amarwen’s hand, and he held her waist and patted her softly.

”Father was solemn for some weeks and I did not see him much. He blamed himself for bringing back some malaise from Far Harad, I now think. It was a few weeks after her death that he took time to be with me. We spent most of the day together and he told me the story of this voyage.”

Halvarin sighed at that dark time, taking pause before he continued on, ”He became grim, and to this very day, I do not believe he ever forgave himself for Mother’s death. Later, when in the Guild school, I researched that voyage and found the Captain’s logs in the archives. I should not bore you with talk of the man who had been responsible for the death of your mother. I am sorry Ami.”

“No Halvarin, I wish to know. For were it not for that man and that woman, you would not be standing beside me now. Tell me what you found of that voyage?”

Halvarin turned to Amarwen and said, ”I will tell of it, love, for in a way it is part of my grieving. I had not properly grieved for my mother, and my father’s grief drew him deeply within himself, a strong wall around him. He was ever so…distant with me after Mother died.”

He brushed a lock of Amarwen’s hair from her face and smiled sadly. Despite with the pain of his father’s death, he felt her love wrapping around him even now and so he kissed her, soft and tenderly.

“Will you walk with me, Ami? “


Amarwen gave him a gentle smile and she took his arm, tucking his hand against her in the crook of her elbow, as they set off down the wet sand. Their footprints marked their passage, glistening. In that moment, Amarwen lit Halvarin’s world and though so much rushed through his mind, she was as to him his anchor and safe harbour. woman he would marry and he wished to do it as soon as they might. He broke their silence, though, with other thoughts.

”Father was an Executive Officer then, and the script in the log was in his hand. Each entry was initialed by the captain and some entries had additions added in the captain’s rough script. On this voyage they had sailed far down the coast of Far Harad to where the land started to curve to the southeast. I have not gone so far on my voyages yet.”

A quick glance to Amarwen confirmed she was listening intently and so Halvarin continued his account, ”In the Guild, there were rumours of old that a great inland sea lingered far to the east, and to sail there one had to venture quite far to the south to round a cape. None had been so bold to try this voyage after three expeditions that launched from Umbar hundreds of years ago never returned. No sign of had ever been found of them south along the Haradian coast, but on this voyage, the Captain pushed them to their limits, going farther south than any who had returned before.”

Halvarin glanced back to see their prints lazily claimed by a wave of the sea. He went on speaking, for he had read and memorized this log, and logs of other voyages that his father had been on.

”Where the coast turned eastward, they were forced to put ashore at a great sandy beach that reached out from the thick dark green of tall hardwood trees and thick low vegetation. The air was hot and humid and changed little from day to night; except for the savage rays of the sun did not bear down on them in the morning and the torrential rains did not fall on them in the afternoons.

“The nights brought swarms of midges and flies thirsty for a man’s blood. After several days of the rains and with clever use of some of the broad leaves of a species of ground vegetation, enough water was collected to make the return journey possible. For food, they had collected a strange stonefruit they had found. When a hearty sailor volunteered to try eating it, and he did not fall over dead or get sick, was it deemed safe enough for the men. They dug up several small plants of this to take back to Umbar for the scholars to study and attempt to propagate.”

Halvarin paused, withdrawing into thought. After a time, Amarwen rubbed his arm and prompted him with a question.

”And what of your father’s return him to you and your mother?”

Halvarin nodded, ”On the return voyage, several of the crew, including the Navigator, fell ill with fever. But they could not trace the cause back to the fruit, or the water. One man got sick while the next man did not. Some became very ill while others only showed slight fever. When they arrived in Umbar, Father had the sweats and chills both and he believed that this is why Mother fell ill for that occurred not long after his return.”

“And was it?” Amarwen asked, fascinated.

He went quiet and watched their feet as they stepped.

Pausing, he turned to Amarwen and took both her hands into his, ”The men were studied, and also some of the midges that had come north on the ship. It was found that some of the midges carried a fever that the spread through their bites. Some men are more resistant to it, others less so. And the number of bites would vary, so the sickness was not uniform across all the crew aboard on the ship. As for Mother, her fever was caused by something else. She would have died whether Father returned or not.”

Halvarin shrugged, not sure where his thoughts were taking him. He looked at Amarwen and embraced her even as a wave pushed past their feet. The tide was turning but he was not yet inclined to move. He gazed deeply into her deep grey eyes.

”My dear love, this day is the first among the many days of our lives. I wish to marry you as soon as we can and I would like you to accompany me to Pelargir as my wife.”

Amarwen’s eyes widened at that but Halvarin was not to be discouraged, ”There is much for me to do there, with my father’s estate to settle and the Guild convocations that must surely follow. I must, of course, appear and I would not be parted from you, Ami. Not for all the world.”

”Pelargir is the seat of Castamir’s power in Gondor,” Amarwen observed quietly and Halvarin nodded.

”And Umbar is more perilous still, yet you ventured there,” he countered, ”This…this is a change to embed ourselves within the heart of the Guild. From there we can seek out any who are not ardent supporters of the usurper.”

“If you were discovered,” Amarwen persisted, ”They would be ruthless, Halvarin. Me they expect to betray them but you…”

“I know it will be dangerous. Not least because those that slew my father and my mentor, Chief Navigator Damius, might well look to take me next. But still, it is what must be done, Ami. We must seize this and turn it to our favour. Come, there us much to do. Let us return to your Halls!”

Halvarin paused as he listened to himself. He was like his father, wanting to turn ill news and grief into drive and victory. Somehow, this nauseated Halvarin as he considered the thought. He looked at Amarwen, beautifully aglow in the morning light and sighed. From the time he was five and his mother died, Halvarin had worked to live up to his father’s expectations. It was only when the events in Edhellond that had cracked this fortress he had been in, and as those foundations had weakened and crumbled before him, Halvarin struggled with the thought of having to face his father as one of the Eldacarian resistance. That day would now never come, and he was his own man now. In some ways, then, he felt truly adrift. Like a sail that had been cut free of the mast.

There was nobody now to live up to, aside from the woman who stood with him before he waves. With Amarwen as his wife, what might he not achieve? Together, they could strive to bring down the brutal usurper and return the king to his rightful throne. They could unite Gondor once more. They would have to be discrete and careful, yes, for the road ahead of them was narrow and riven with peril. If they should but slip…still, if they should not… Halvarin pulled Amarwen to him hard and kissed her passionately. Momentarily surprised, he felt her soon unwind. Her body was so soft against his own and yet beneath that was a strength few could rival.

”Come,” he said, brow pressed to her own and her taste thick on his lips, ”We have a wedding to plan.”

Ah yes, he most certainly was home, Halvarin mused to himself as he bent over the desk with Amarwen to review the contracts further. Upon studying the original contracts his father had signed with these men, it soon appeared that a number of them had attempted to include clauses that would see their agreement stretch and bind to Halvarin. The evening grew quite late as they worked through this tangle, Amarwen suggesting a number of ways they might untangle it all. Eventually, though, the hour caught up with them and Halvarin’s hand kept returning to Amarwen’s leg.

”Shall I,” he suggested as he leaned in to her ear, ”Acquaint you with that bed now, my love?”

Amarwen smiled at the question and leaned back in her chair to stretch. She nodded, and so he rose with her hand in his and led her through the halls of a home that had been his and now was hers. How many times had he wondered at what it might like to have her here, like this. His wife. His bride. The last time he had slept here, it had been on the return from the last trip his father had ever taken as a friend and ally still of her father and mother. He had been aware, then, that their parents had quarreled but Halvarin had been preoccupied by the events that had occurred outside, in the gardens of Edhellond. His mind had been filled with green silk and Amarwen when last he laid upon this bed and now she was here, beside him.

The size of the bed was such that he needed to seek her out which he did so and the last thing he thought of as sleep reached for him was how soft her hair was as he buried his face in it. When the first birds started to sing in the early morning, he discovered that they were still folded together in the same position.

”Good morning, my love!” Halvarin said sleepily into her hair and he rolled to his back.

He was met by a soft sigh as Amarwen lazily rolled towards him, hooking a leg over his hips to anchor herself to him. She lay her head on his chest and he wrapped his arm over her back to lightly caress the smooth skin of her shoulder. The presence of her was something of a very pleasant distraction.

He said, ”The barrister will likely be a problem. I intend today to pay out the rest of his contract, only three months, but once that is done I will need somebody I trust to act as my representative in these affairs.”

She murmured something indistinct, still not quite awake as her leg shifted.

Halvarin swallowed at what that did and pressed on, ”As my wife, Ami, you have equal share in it all and so I want you to oversee this. Here, you are the only person I can trust.”

Her eyes had popped open at his use of her name and he found her blinking sleepily up at him, her grey eyes as beguiling as ever they had been. Halvarin immediately started to turn toward her and she rolled lazily to her back, black hair spreading over the snowy pillows under their heads. All his various dreams and thoughts bore not a candle to the reality of having her here, now, in his arms.

”No matter where I go, I think I will always think of you just as this, laying in my arms,” he said and watched her slowly smile.

”You flatter, sailor,” she remarked even as she drew his lips to hers and ignited the fire that had flickered in his belly the moment her leg had anchored over him.

It was a couple hours later that they again awoke, this time to a knock on the door. Halvarin managed to g pull his breeches on before trying to walk over to the door. He opened it to find a young maid standing there. She blushed deeply when she saw him standing without his shirt and began to stammer.

”My pard... pardon sir…”, the maid curtsied with her eyes locked on the floor, ”I have come to ask… if…”

She paused again to swallow and so Halvarin said, ” Take a breath, compose yourself, and then look me in the eye as you tell me that which you have come to say.”

She was obviously, he thought, a new servant. He watched her dab at her eyes with her dress sleeve and take several breaths before she blinked and dared to look up at him. She was holding her breath still and so when her eyes found his, he offered her a reassuring smile. Amarwen had told him no so long ago that his smile was charming and, he soon saw, this appeared to be the case for the maid seemed to calm.

She curtsied again, ”Forgive me, Master, but I have been sent to ask whether you and the Mistress would like breakfast served in your room?”

Halvarin smiled again, ”Indeed we would.”

The maid curtsied again and turned away but Halvarin forestalled her departure, ”I would know your name, and how long have you been employed here?”

The maid turned back and bobbed yet another curtsy, prompting Halvarin to wonder whether that ever became tiring. He inwardly resolved to ask Ami about it later as the maid considered the floor anew.

”My name is Sarael, and today marks my third week in your household, Master.”

“Very good Sarael,” Halvarin replied with a nod she’d not see given her study of the floorboards, ”My wife and I look forward to breakfast.”

As he closed the door, Amarwen sat up in bed to inquire, ”Husband, dear, already do I find you flirting with the household staff, hmmmm…?”

There was a playful note to her voice, and knew Amarwen was one to make light of almost everything. Including being stabbed, as he had discovered in Umbar, but still he wanted to be sure that she did not doubt his fidelity. For if he was called to sea and they were parted, his stomach clenched at such a thing now, then he did not want the grief of that parting added to by such fears.

Halvarin returned to the bed to kiss his wife soundly. So soundly that she might know that she, and only she, would ever know him in such a way.

”Of course not. Still, I found it odd that so junior a servant would be dispatched on such a task. Perhaps, dare I say, ‘interrupt’ us?”

Amarwen’s brows rose at the thought, ”If so, that would suggest discontent, love at your choice of wife. Carlin can be gruff, yes, but I had hoped to sufficiently blunt his manner. Perhaps offense has been given all the same.”

Halvarin brushed his fingers over her cheek, ”Perhaps, though that may not necessary be of concern. The newer servants of the house may be what we need around here. She has only been working here three weeks so may have met my father once at most. He could not, I think, have so thoroughly commanded her loyalty in such times. And she has shown an appreciation for discretion. Perhaps we might charge her with the residential duties?”

”Perhaps,” Amarwen agreed, a familiar mirth flickering in her smile, ”Provided I can be sure is not solely because she is so very adorable.”

Halvarin paused for a moment, ”Such decisions will be made with your full approval, my heart.”

He gave her his own grin before wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down to the bed again. As a consequence, they only barely managed to make themselves presentable once breakfast arrived at the door. They ate and by the noon hour, and were ready to emerge and meet the day soon thereafter. The first thing Halvarin did was to inform all staff that had served his father to gather in a few hours in the reception room. By evening, a third of the staff had been dismissed with a severance and the new hires promoted. This was all part of making this place his own. His home, a sanctuary for his wife and the family that would, in time follow.

By the close of their first week in Pelargir, a third of his father’s business advisors had given over their portfolios and many of the others had passed theirs on to subordinates. The few Halvarin and Amarwen kept on were found to be honest in their transfers from his father, and this honesty was met with continued employment. The barristers dismissal, Halvarin found, had met with the genuine approval of two of his father’s senior advisors. This surprised Halvarin and Amarwen both, for the two men occupied roles that would have necessitated close communication with his father. One was his father’s representative in court and the other tended to the various tax affairs of the businesses.

Given the significance of these two roles within Castamir’s court, Halvarin resolved to retain them. He had discovered his father had been a key financier of and profiteer from Castamir’s efforts to expand his naval holdings and both men had been closely involved in that. Then there was the “special need” fund his father maintained. Halvarin wasn’t sure what that was in aid of but he resolved to retain it and grow it for he certainly knew what he would use it for.

Meanwhile, Amarwen had her own contributions to make. She slowly started to invest the money of the treasury Lord Hurian had preserved alongside Halvarin’s interests. They were able to expand holdings and buildings. And they were able to being taking on additional staff. This proved most fraught, for winnowing out the chaotic patchwork of partisans in Pelargir and then winning them over was not easy. Still, employing them enabled Amarwen to slowly establish coordination and control that had been beyond the Pelargir resistance. Ever present was the threat that the Guild would infiltrate them but later review of the list of names revealed not a one was linked with Pelargir. In fact, Pelargir had been the most difficult nut of all for Eldacar to crack and so his Mistress of Spies, as Halvarin called her, moved with great care indeed. Ever laying contingencies. Ever covering their tracks. Always looking over their shoulders.

It was an exhilarating, heady time for them both and the weeks passed in a blur of activity until the first hint of the coming winter reached down from the north to Pelargir. With it arrived word to the Pelargir Guild that Castamir himself would soon return to his northern court within the city. It seemed clear that this would coincide with the announcement of who was to fill the position of Guild Master and Master Navigator, along with the issuing of new orders concerning which officers would be assigned to which vessel, city or strategic location. These tidings perturbed Halvarin for the thought of the usurper so near in Pelargir with Amarwen here was troubling indeed. If that was not enough, he had yet to discuss with her the fact that he had been nominated for the position and they fact that they were likely to announce it here suggested to many at the Guild that he might have secured the role of Master Navigator.

It was evening when Halvarin arrived at the house. He had left the Guild frantic to make sure all was in good order for Castamir’s arrival in a fortnight.

Greeted by his staff, Halvarin said, ”My wife and I will dine alone, this eve.”

As he spoke, Amarwen arrived and Halvarin found himself frozen by her appearance. She was beautiful. She always had been, of course, but it seemed to him that her beauty only grew each time he saw her. This night her hair shone as did her eyes, the very embodiment of the night sky he so often looked to as a navigator. He shook off his thoughts of how ravishing she was, and gently offered her his greeting.

Halvarin lifted her hand to his lips to kiss and his words curled over her skin as she curtsied before him,”We have much to discuss, my love.”