Journey to Minas Tirith
By Jay Young
Posted: 9/6/2007
Ocean waves crashed steadily against their ship as it sped its way towards the great ancient city of Minas Tirith. The sails puffed with a fresh salty breeze, and the ever-present cries of seagulls let them know that they were just out of sight of the shoreline. Supposedly, Chiana thought, the currents were carrying them at a speed which even the fastest cutters couldn't hope to match. She did not altogether believe that their speed was due to the God, what was his name? Oh yes, Ulmo-- because Ulmo was aiding their journey by commanding the currents. These elves were definitely a religious people, though she had to admit, they were moving pretty damn fast. As she leaned against the rail of the ship, she could see the Laurëa Lassë, or Golden Leaf in Quenya, just an arrow’s shot off the port bow. Her ship was named the Arcirya, which she learned meant Royal Ship. Chiana couldn't remember the name of the ship off the starboard bow. Naturally, the Arcirya was the flagship of the small trio. The past few days had been difficult for her, a time for deep reflection. The events of the past several weeks disturbed her, and while she didn't want to admit it, she was scared. Ironically, it was not the battle with Sirion, or the Fire Lord as he called himself, that frightened her, nor the orcs or the undead. No, it was the words of Mortikye that pierced her deepest, and they raced over and over in her mind like a windmill churning in a misty fog. If you want to know about your parents, ask Erromon—it’s his mess.
A voice behind her snapped Chiana back to reality. “What are you doing?” Alexia asked, stepping over a coil of rope on the deck.
“What does it look like?” Chiana replied, annoyed by the interruption. Sometimes Alexia got on her nerves, and this was one of those times. She always acted so innocent, as if she were oblivious to the surrounding world. Plus there was her foreign accent. Chiana had tried to work with her on her Westron, but it’s like she just couldn’t grasp it, or something. Must be the blonde hair.
“I have never been on a voyage like this. The sea just seems so beautiful.”
Everything was beautiful, wonderful, fantastic. “Yeah, I guess,” Chiana said leaning back up against the rail.
“It’s simply fantastic. There are so many sparkles on the waves. They’re like diamonds.”
Well then why don’t you jump in and see if you can catch one of them? No, that was too harsh. Besides, Chiana thought, she might actually do it. “Hey, Alexia, I saw Druiden a few minutes ago, and he said that he wanted to talk to you.”
“He did?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, thanks, I’ll go find him,” Alexia chirped with a smile.
Yeah, you do that. Chiana shook her head. It’s a good thing Alexia’s a master with the broadsword, or someone might get the idea that she’s only good for one thing. Then again, to Chiana’s knowledge, Alexia had never opened up for anyone--not even Fleance. For someone who spent her teenage years whoring and thieving the decadent back streets of Tharbad, sex wasn’t a big deal for Chiana. She’d been with pompous noblemen trying to flaunt their power, laymen cheating on their wives, sailors looking for a quick release, and worst of all, other thieves like her who had stolen their money from any of the above and were now tossing it in front of her just to prove that she was at the bottom of the whole fetid pile. And that’s exactly how she felt right now. Damn Alexia for her innocence. Chiana knew what the true nature of humanity was, and that was something Alexia would never get. She suddenly felt sick and decided to head below deck to the crew quarters and catch a nap. Perhaps when she awoke, the cobwebs would clear and she would understand more fully what Mortikye had told her.
* * * *
What good is this book going to do me if I can’t even read what it says??? Zuradi rubbed his chin thoughtfully, staring blankly at the pages of The Book of Essence. “Okay, now if this says what I think it says, then the essence of fire is always at my fingertips …” Sitting cross-legged in the dark corner of Arcirya’s belly hold, the young Elven mage waved his hands across his face to conjure the essence. He moved his lips slightly to chant the preparatory words his great mentor, Manudi, had taught him years ago in the jungles of Il Mularin. Zuradi knew that he wasn’t supposed to be moving his lips at all, but like a child learning to read, true somaticism was a skill that took time to master. He was good, just not quite that good. But today he was having a good day for his mystical practice and he felt vigorous. Zuradi knew that this fire spell would be his largest breakthrough in months. Energy swelled in his chest and he channeled it to his fingertips, the strain causing a bead of sweat to roll off his brow. Shaking now, he almost had it, almost. The walls began to glow…
“Hey, Zuradi, have you seen Druiden?” an accented voice asked behind him.
The glow winked out. “Awe, Alexia, I finally nearly had it!” Zuradi threw up his arms in frustration. “I’ve been trying to cast this spell for days now.”
“Oh, Zuradi, I am so very sorry. I did not notice you were practicing.” Alexia turned to walk away, “I will leave you to your studies.”
Did she not see the glow on the wall?? “No, no Alexia, it’s alright,” the young mage said quickly. He found that Alexia was almost impossible to get mad at. She was so nice and sweet, always interested in anything he had to say. Their conversations had kept them up a couple of times for hours at night. He would die before he admitted it, but if he ever had a mother, she was what Zuradi pictured her to be like. Perhaps it was this nurturing instinct of hers that made Zuradi all the more attracted to her. “No, I’m sorry, I just need to control myself more. I mean control my emotions.” He suddenly realized that he wasn’t looking at her face, and quickly shifted his gaze upward.
“How do you like your new little book?”
The Book of Essence was only the greatest book of magic ever written in history. And weighing over ten pounds, it was anything but little. “Well, if I could read the language it was written in, that would help. As it is, I can only catch a few words and phrases. Anyway, the last time I saw Druiden, he was up on the top of the ship. He was throwing that scythe of his off into the water.”
“Okay. Thank you! You’re always so helpful, Zuradi,” she said as she skipped back to the ladder heading up.
Zuradi exhaled. Alexia always seemed to make him breath unevenly. He found himself leaning up against the hull of the ship in the midst of a daydream when voices through the far wall caught his attention. He leaned forward and turned his superb elven ears toward the sounds.
“Yes, but putting that aside, I do not see Pelandur heeding any of our advice. He never has, and he never will.” Even muffled, the voice was definitely that of Finglorian, the commanding general of the so-called “Lost Elves.”
“He will this time. He has to.” Zuradi stood silently and crept closer to the wall. That had to be Theangel, the Elven mage who had given him The Book of Essence. He was as ancient as Finglorian, perhaps even more so, and if Finglorian was the lost Elven general, Theangel, he gathered, had to be their leader. Part of Zuradi couldn’t care less who was in charge or what their structure was, for everyone seemed to hate him, many to the point of wishing him death. It was a terrible feeling, being hated. But Theangel seemed to have some confidence in him at least, probably because of their mutual interest in magic. And it was that longing to be accepted, however slight, which caused Zuradi to listen in on their conversation.
“So if what you propose fails, then what?” Finglorian asked.
“Then we sharpen our swords, my friend. With the accounts that Druiden and the others have given us, someone intended to reinstate Sirion as the ruler of Gondor.” There was a long pause. “The Black Army is marching. Minas Tirith has always been the last stronghold against evil. If Pelandur doesn’t recall his troops and stop this madness, then the future may find us manning the walls of the great city ourselves.”
“Perhaps. Whatever happens, Theangel, we should be prepared to protect Eldrin.” A moment later, he added, “I have not forgotten.”
“Neither have I, Finglorian.”
Then there was silence. When it seemed that there was nothing more to hear, Zuradi slipped back to his corner to resume his practice. He was tired of being pushed to the side when there was combat, and he knew that mastering the Law of Fire was the best way to help his friends. The young elf closed his eyes and began to concentrate.
“You know that mastering the Law of Fire is not the best way to help your friends,” a voice spoke so suddenly right behind Zuradi that the boy nearly fell over. It was Theangel.
Zuradi just stared in response. Theangel stepped forward, “You must first master yourself before you can master the Law of Fire. Mental discipline is the key to learning any realm of magic, and it holds true for the Essence as well. Focus on strengthening your mind and body.” The mage stared Zuradi directly in his eyes, “This will be very, very important for you.”
When Theangel turned and walked back to the ladder leading out of the ship’s hold, Zuradi finally spoke, “Who is Eldrin?”
Theangel turned, thought about it for a moment, and then said “A very special young boy.” With that, the tall elf climbed up the ladder.
Zuradi could tell that there was more Theangel wanted to tell him, but didn’t. That the ancient mage seemed to hide so many things from him angered the boy for somewhere, locked away deep in the recesses of Theangel’s mind laid the answers to all the elf’s questions. Why wouldn’t he just answer them? Why did all the elves hate him so much? Why did he have to travel all the way back to Il-Mularin to ask Manudi that question? Why did he grow up the only elf in his village or for that matter the kingdom? Who were his parents? He knew Theangel could answer each of these and more. It just wasn’t fair. Anger swelled deep within Zuradi, and it was all he could do to control it. Zuradi focused once more on the dark wall in front of him, raised his arms, and prepared the spell, this time without moving his lips. He would get his answers, with or without Theangel’s help.
The wall began to glow.
* * * *
Druiden peered off the back of the Arcirya watching storm clouds gather in the distance. His mystical scythe swirled and danced around the back side of the ship, skimmed over the top of the waves, and flew back into Druiden’s grasp. This was actually the first time he had caught it—all of the other times it simply dropped into the sea. The scythe was imbued with the power to return to his hands, but he still felt uneasy about throwing it overboard to practice controlling it. Lightning flashed and struck the ocean miles away. If he listened closely, Druiden could hear the rumble of thunder in the distance. He decided to take a break from scythe-throwing, and watch the sunset behind the growing sea storm. Streaks of orange and purple were now visible directly overhead, and the clouds only blocked more of the sun’s rapidly deteriorating light. Once again, he thought, he was heading back home. Each time he passed through Minas Tirith, he thought about visiting their graves, but he never did. Druiden was a shrewd and extremely intelligent assassin, and he knew that if he ever went back to the graves of his mother and sister, their killers would be waiting there for him. After all, he would.
When the murderers rode into their farm years ago, they had forgotten about Druiden harvesting wheat in the fields. Then just a boy, he had heard his mother’s screams when they raped her. Druiden arrived just in time to see her butchered in front of his eyes. Still clutching the scythe from the fields, he used it to defend his sister, and claimed claimed his first victim when he was only eleven. He succeeded only in saving himself. Now, years later, the memory seemed so distant. Like the storm encircling them, he knew that he would confront the horrors of his past some day, and it would not be pretty. But there was no time to dwell upon revenge. A good assassin prepared for everything, and he had to focus on staying in the shadows during this trip. He knew that as soon as they arrived with such high profile company, the royal family and politicians would all be scrutinizing the passengers. Word would get out that Druiden Felshadow had returned, and danger would soon follow. He planned on disappearing as soon as they arrived.
“Druiden, did you want to see me?” a woman’s voice asked behind him.
He turned around, leaning on his new scythe, to see Alexia approaching him. “Uh, no, I didn’t.”
“Oh, Chiana told me you wanted to talk,” she said with a frown.
“She must have known that I needed company. Please, make yourself comfortable,” he gestured towards the railing on the back of the ship.
“Wow, this is an incredible storm,” she said. Wind blew her hair back over her shoulders carrying with it the scent of rain. She was beautiful, Druiden thought, just like her sister. Although Alexia was taller and slightly more built than Cassandra. Much more gentle, too. Druiden wondered if it had been folly to ask Cassandra to marry him. He knew deep down that there was a substantial chance that he would never see her again. But he had never felt that way before about anyone. Not even Alexia, and they shared a strong connection. “Alexia, do you think it was a mistake to ask your sister to marry me?”
Her eyes softened and she leaned in close to him, “Do you love her?”
“Of course I do—more than...”
“Then no,” she cut him off. “I think it would have been a mistake for you to hide your feelings. And for once, Druiden Felshadow, you did not do that.”
Both of them looked back out across the ocean, saying nothing more. Druiden figured that she was probably right, but for the first time in years, he doubted himself. Something, lately, seemed to be gripping him, like a sinewy claw shrouded in darkness. He knew he should tell Alexia about it, too. She would know what to do, what to tell him to make him feel better. She always did. He also knew what that claw was, and it was something he had not felt since he was a boy, something that without fail, left every assassin dead—fear. Druiden had something to lose now, and the thought of losing it made him afraid. The fear was so tangible, he could almost see it with his eyes, causing him to wake in the middle of the night. Something dreadful was going to happen that would tear his world asunder. With so many people counting on him, Druiden thought, Alexia needed to know. He took a deep breath, exchanged smiles with Alexia, and exhaled in silence.
The storm drew closer.
