Chapter Text
Osgiliath year 3429 of the Second Age of the Sun
Galadriel brushed her hair watching as the sun rose over the eastern mountains and went up as a flame, bathing the City in a golden glow; the sea breeze wafted through the windows, and if she listened, the wailing of gulls could be heard.
After brushing her tresses, Galadriel's gaze fell to a silver ring upon her finger; it glittered like polished gold overlaid with silver light; it was beautiful a gift from her husband, who lay asleep, his bare form exposed to the warm spring air she reddened remembering the night they shared.
Verily the sight of Jon's broad hair covered chest and beard filled her with delight; it made her dearest seem akin to a Barbarian of the North come to claim her. Oh, how she loved to see her beloved as such it was rather queer as she never supposed the thought of hairy men would arouse her, so it was rare for Elven men to be unshorn, and rarer still for one to have hair upon their bodies, only the eldest of their race appeared as such.
Even so, she could not believe how handsome she found her beloved wolf.
"Oh, Jon…" Galadriel whispered, caressing her beloved's broad chest and arm, marvelling at his form honed through years at the anvil and tiltyard.
It had been a half-century since her wolf had been named Prince of Osgiliath; she and Írimë had now long dwelt there alongside their followers, sometimes guiding the Faithful as their kinsmen in Aman had done with the Lords of Andúnië other times partaking happily in the daily lives of the Atani, something that surprisingly they all came to enjoy.
And for their part, she and her aunt had come to love their wolf ever keenly; Jon was lofty, fair of face, and masterful, his eyes piercingly bright alas, her dearest had become quite sullen on many occasions she had found him on the balcony pipe in hand gazing up at the stars little remained of the young adventurer who gladly roamed Middle earth. Before them stood a masterful Lord, holding the rule of all things in his own hand. He said little. He listened to counsel, and then followed his own mind.
Her beloved Wolf had also changed his choice in garments, altogether discarding the doublets worn by the nobles of court rather dawning robes of Elven make, most of those robes being assembled by her, her aunt and her beloved's cousin Sansa.
Galadriel wove robes of purest Noldorian silk, her aunt Írimë on the other hand-fashioned their beloved robes reminiscent of the Vanyar, the silks of gold and blue, while Sansa wove robes in the colours of Stark and Targaryen.
Galadriel had learned from her aunt that Jon had the honour of visiting the Lands of Aman; taking counsel with Manwë t'was a wondrous glory for anyone, particularly one of the Atani indeed Glorfindel spoke how the light of Valinor shone in Jon's eyes, something she discovered with great delight.
In days past, Jon was little more than a child in the eyes of her people and the Dúnedain, yet as her beloved neared his hundred twenty-third birthday, he had reached his full manhood; His speech and bearing were that of the ancient kingdom of Doriath, and even among the Elves he might be taken for one from the great houses of the Noldor.
Indeed, her love had grown mightily in arms hour after hour Jon spent in the tiltyard duelling with the men-at-arms none had claimed victory against her husband, not even herself; she had thought to best her wolf and lost her spear in good order.
Galadriel smiled and stroked her wolf's ebon tresses. "Oh, my dearest wolf, I shall teach you a lesson in humility... you shall regret taking my spear so greedily."
Flashback 1 year before
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It happened on the first day of Spring when the Faithful offered prayer for the coming year. The men of Westernesse had three such prayers the Erukyermë in the first days of spring, praise of Ilúvatar at the Erulaitalë in midsummer, and thanksgiving to him at the Eruhantalë at the end of autumn.
Those great festivals were abandoned since the time of Tar-Ancalimon when the shadow fell on Númenor, although they were briefly regained by Tar-Palantir, and now The Faithful celebrate them in Arnor and Gondor so as not to forget their ancestors.
Jon had led the prayer alongside the nobles and then went about training his warriors as well as the retinue of Elves that accompanied her; The Nobles in the stands, cried out for their Prince's victory, thumping their hands on the bannister.
Despite this, considerable soldiers of Gondor and their own warriors desired to make a name for themselves by besting her beloved in combat, but alas, the fools swiftly regretted their foolhardiness when her wolf battered them to the ground.
Verily it was humbling for the Elves and Dúnedain; a good many of them have had experience in the dreadful wars of Eriador and against the wicked Goblins, yet a Dúnedain hardly a century-old had bested them.
She knew very well that her beloved revelled in his might she need nought peer into his mind to see that, just glimpse the look of joy on her lover's face; her foolish wolf had become a fearsome warrior... and he knew it.
It was then, after eyeing her beloved batter, another elf thought to mock her wolf, so she set down her glass and bade the servant girl accompany her to the chambers; the young woman smiled and swiftly agreed, no doubt hoping to earn the favour of her wolf.
Írimë gleaned her intentions and laughed heartily before downing another draught of wine.
Galadriel returned to the edge of the arena, clad in her gilded mail with spear in hand, testing the heft of the weapon. She smiled and waved to the onlookers.
To Galadriel's amusement, the men of Gondor gazed upon her with ardent desire while her elven kin cheered and made many toasts in her honour. They were gladdened; she had taken up her spear once more; she hadn't fought in the properest sense since the siege of Angrenost lo those many years ago and wished to measure herself against her wild wolf.
Verily it would happen shortly; the last Dúnedain lunged at her beloved, feinting high and coming in low with a brutal blow. Jon saw it coming, and dropped his guard to parry the blow, yet the fool Dúnedain hadn't seen this eager to best his Lord; Jon swatted the blade aside and sent it tumbling into the air. It spun end over end and sank point first into the ground, and thus the battle was over. Jon looked around, hoping to find a new challenger, and that is when she stepped forward.
Striking the ground with her spear, hoping to get Jon's attention, it appeared to work as Jon rounded to face her, his eyes wide in bewilderment.
'What are you doing, my star?' Jon questioned, dumbfounded.
'Don't be so surprised, my Wolf, seeing you fight so fiercely, you have awakened in me the desire to reckon my strength against yours.'
Galadriel said heartily.
Jon glowered at her, wholly displeased by her intention. "Well, met my star though I fear I may harm you should I lose control",
She returned his glower with a laugh "Jon… must I recount my deeds in war?… I am no maiden, my fanciful wolf…shall we fight or shall you cower in front of your men and mine…." Galadriel said, levelling her spear to his breast.
Immediately the courtyard erupted into a cacophony of whispers as the Elves and Dúnedain gleaned the Lady of Lights' intentions.
"Very well, but should I best you, I hope you shall bear me no ill will…." Jon said boastfully.
Those words prickled her pride, and she grasped her spear boldly, smiling all the while. "How bold you are, my beloved Wolf, but if you are so convinced of your victory, maybe you desire to make a wager?…."
"Another wager, my beloved Star?… Do you recall how our last contest ended?… Jon asked merrily, filling his Star's mind with memories of their passionate lovemaking.
Galadriel reddened as she recalled their nights of passion, but she swiftly quelled those reflections. "Silence, Jon, if I win… I shall claim Ringil and Ghal-Maraz for six months; perhaps you will learn some humility, my silly wolf."
Her lover's eyes widened upon hearing the terms of her wager, but after a moment, he smiled.
"Very well, but if I should win, I will claim your spear as reward…." Jon said confidently, and she reddened, recalling her time in Valinor.
Many springs ago, when she was but a girl, Galadriel and many of her kin journeyed to Alqualondë on the invitation of her grandfather, the Lord Olwë, to take part in the festivities and witness the training of the Elven garrisons.
Her brothers couldn't hope to best the soldiers of Alqualondë, and she eagerly hoped to cross blades with them as well; her grandfather and uncles laughed merrily while her mother begged her wait to pick up a sword, and she as a young princess of the Noldor who wanted for nothing pouted and stormed off the beach.
That night she skulked on the beach, wholly displeased when her older brother Finrod came and scolded her for her foolhardiness, yet he also gave her a spear of extraordinary beauty, the one she now carried. Its value was unequalled.
But… There was no way she would forfeit, yes, and even if she yielded, Galadriel knew she could soften her love's heart into returning her spear despite her wager.
"As you wish, my foolish and greedy wolf…." She said, confident of her victory.
And thus, a soldier hurried over and handed her beloved two swords, one of great heft, the other no more than a dagger. Jon drew the larger of the two blades from its scabbard; most men would need two hands to swing such a blade, but her beloved was mightier than most men.
Jon saluted her graciously as the crier and their seconds scrambled out of the arena. She naturally returned the salute, and they parted from each other, awaiting the signal to begin; at last, the crier sounded his horn, and thus the duel began.
They stalked around each other. Striding forward with the swiftness of summer's wind, Galadriel was first to strike, whipping her spear towards Jon's chest. Her footwork was precise, her strike perfectly balanced. Jon turned aside the blow with little exertion, and feinted a riposte. They continued to circle each other while she struck with an occasional testing blow, yet Jon would deflect each with the barest turn of his wrist, but neither had brought their full might to bear. Galadriel raised her spear high, hoping to take her beloved by surprise with an overhead strike. As Jon rose to meet her blow, Galadriel rolled her wrist, flicking her spear to Jon's cheek. It was swift as a lightning bolt, and Jon was rewarded by a cut upon his cheek.
A Cut that was swift to heal.
"By the Valar must he be so durable," Galadriel thought, vexed.
Again and Again, it appeared she would land a blow upon her beloved, only for his sword to turn her spear aside at the last moment, scant inches from striking home. Verily Galadriel was wholly vexed, where in days gone by, she may have tried to savage her wolf, leaving herself open for counteroffensive; she mustered her anger, adding strength to her blows. Launching a series of blindingly fast strikes, attacking high and low. As Jon side-stepped, she swiftly spun around, her spear slicing through the air towards Jon's neck. Alas, Jon swayed backwards at the last moment, and her spear missed him by scant inches.
Jon saluted her for her skill at arms and drew his second blade, a short sword. He twirled the blades in hand, and charged forward to engage her. The twin blades came at her in blistering arcs, and the audience sat in silence, altogether spellbound by the might of their prince. Galadriel backed away swiftly, desperately fending off her beloved. There was little time for her to consider a strategy, much less a counterattack of her own; indeed, it took all her speed and concentration merely to keep the wolf away.
It was then Galadriel had an idea and summoned the last bit of her strength and lunged forward; the tip of her spear aimed for Jon's heart. It was then Galadriel realised her folly that Jon had lured her into a trap. Jon batted her spear away, and his twin blades crossed, slipping through the gap in her scale, and touched the coif that protected her neck while her spear had found the juncture between his arm and breast poised to draw blood, and they stopped.
"Well, my beloved star, I think I won our practice… Jon said gaily, and Galadriel was filled with offence; he had deceived her.
"That was a dirty trick!" Galadriel shouted indignantly, and she was heard by all.
"My Lady... That was technique... You are swift, aye, but I strike mightily..." Jon said, helping her to her feet as the Lords and Ladies clapped gaily, wholly pleased by the show of swordsmanship.
"Give me my spear Jon…." Galadriel ordered furiously, but Jon merely laughed.
"I see no reason to; you and I had an agreement… This spear will remain with me for a few months… If you'll excuse me, I have other duties to perform…." Jon said, bowing mockingly before retrieving her spear.
"AUNT!" Galadriel shouted furiously.
"Dear niece, don't be bitter; our beloved cunningly defeated you…." Írimë said with amusement.
"It's not true, aunt; he did a dirty trick…." Galadriel replied furiously.
"Now, Artanis, you will have to accept your defeat, niece; besides, the wager was your idea… Better leave things like that…." Írimë said, wholly amused by her nieces' ire, but she thought it best to leave the matter finished and followed Jon out of the arena.
Jon turned to her once more, his eyes filled with love, and though it lessened her ire, she wondered what her beloved was up to; perhaps she would ask him later, but now she desired a potent spirit and a warm bath.
"What is he up to?… I must get my spear back… and mayhaps consider a way to prank my wolf…." So Galadriel thought though she knew not how she would recover her spear.
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That night, Galadriel sought to charm her beloved; it was a perfect time as Jon's family had journeyed to Minas Ithil in hopes of glimpsing the White Tree. Although Jon's cousins chose to stay, perhaps they didn't trust her aunt and herself or wished to spend time with Jon. It mattered little Galadriel had a cunning plan to recover her spear; she merely needed to get Jon alone.
It was to be a lovely time in the absence of those bothersome women, she and her aunt had Jon to themselves, and they would relish every moment.
That night that Jon was with Írimë at the moment, and naturally, she was spying upon them though she hadn't needed to in a long while, but the pleasure of seeing her aunt Írimë and her beloved wolf indulge in lust… It was a delight she could hardly give up.
But none of that mattered at the time; what mattered was that tonight it was her turn with her beloved… and time to retrieve her spear.
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On that night, after the affairs of the city were put in order, Galadriel stealthily entered the chambers her wolf shared with Írimë; it was rather queer that her aunt shared lodgings with Jon, yet after the kiss, they shared during their dance, all the Dúnedain proved rumours that Jon had managed to capture the heart of a Princess of the Noldor, so having no other choice... Lord Azrubên urged that Jon and Írimë share a room as a proper pair.
Galadriel's aunt was plainly enamoured with the idea, laughing and jumping like a child, ordering her servants to take her things to Jon's chambers though she was the only one happy about it.
Rhaenys let out a cry of rage and even lunged at her aunt Írimë but was stopped by Jon as Írimë held back her laughter and acted like a cat in cream leaning on Jon's chest.
Her beloved's cousins seemed wholly displeased… And even Rhaella had a sour expression on her face.
But in the end, the old Steward's advice rang true, and since then, her aunt had shared Jon's bed for days uncounted… much to the vexation of all parties, chiefly herself.
Such was the weight of this choice that the maidens of Gondor, who were wholly enamoured of ensnaring their beloved, disposed of their elixirs in secret so as to not arouse suspicion verily she had sensed the shadow of envy to have lessened in their hearts, and Galadriel knew of the reason.
When the devotion between Jon and her aunt entered the common knowledge, all the Dúnedain believed they would perhaps witness a legend of the First Age come to life, the birth of a Peredhel, a half-elf… such as Dior or Eärendil.
No noble of Gondor will allow that possibility to be ruined by the whims of one of his daughters.
"If they only knew of the next union that shall occur..." Galadriel thought happily, remembering that three children she shall bear her beloved.
However, this aroused the ire of the Elves, who, upon discovering their wolf bore the love of several women, were wholly furious; this was an outrage to her people; many among them believed her beloved had insulted the honour of the House of Finwë. Indeed many among them had challenged her love to duels to preserve the virtue of her aunt, and no doubt win her favour as though none among them knew Írimë and Jon had plighted their troth long ago.
But it was folly; Jon was mightier than them; certainly, many an elf learned what it meant to wake the dragon, and none were happier for it; although none of that mattered now, her aunt's love for Jon was as vast as the sea. Nevertheless, Galadriel knew that when her family discovered that both her aunt and herself had embraced the Valyrian tradition to marry Jon... There would be an uproar not seen since Finwë's second marriage.
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When she entered Jon's chambers, many could see how her aunt had wrought upon them.
Jon's immense bed was lined with golden silks and numerous flowers... a favourite of her aunts who, as a child, often journeyed to the fields of Yavanna to watch the flowers bloom... Her father once told her that when her aunt Írimë saw those flowers growing under Laurelin's glow for the first time, she laughed so beautifully that her grandmother Indis named her Lalwendë or Lalwen" for short, which meant Laughing Maiden in their tongue.
Írimë had brought with her a mirror of silvered glass and several strong boxes that no doubt held her clothes and jewellery, but Galadriel cared little for her aunts' baubles, for sitting beside the mirror wrapped in a cloth of satin lay her spear.
For a few moments, Galadriel thought of taking the spear and leaving, but no, unfortunately, she had lost the wager, and Jon would know that she took it… No, Galadriel knew that she must coax her wolf to return it to her.
While waiting for her lover to return, she had chosen to dawn her most daring nightdress and sprinkle herself with a perfume of strawberries as it was Jon's favourite aroma; she then lay on the bed in a bold pose, hoping that seeing her in such a state, her beloved Jon would be entranced... And after their night of passion, he would grant her what she desired, namely her spear.
After several moments her beloved strolled into the room, freshly damp from his evening bath droplets of water clung to his broad chest, fey he seemed wholly beautiful.
Seeing him in such a way, her plans faded from her mind, she swiftly reddened, and it felt as if a fire stirred in her chest.
At that moment, Jon noticed her presence; it filled her with delight to glimpse her wolf blush in such a way, and she laughed merrily.
She smiled at him and spoke as sweetly as she could, "Hello, my beloved fool... Is something wrong?" Galadriel knew she sounded akin to a slattern and, as such, stretched out like a great cat, careful so that her wolf could glimpse the swell of her bosom.
Jon groaned, labouring to subjugate his lust. "I know what you're doing, my Star, and it shall not work," She smiled; it seemed her beloved said this for himself rather than for her.
"I don't know what you're talking about, my foolish wolf... Tonight it's my turn to share your bed... I came to request that you fulfil your marital obligations, my love..." Galadriel said lustfully, and her beloved glanced at her queerly.
"Truly? So your boldness has little to do with our wager or your spear?" Jon said mockingly, and she chortled.
"No... No, we made a wager, my beloved and you won... Come, my love, the bed is so lonely without you," said Galadriel, holding out her hand; Jon smiled and allowed her to guide him into bed swiftly, doing away with his towel leaving her wolf bare as the day he was born.
"Eager are we... You smell of strawberries, my beloved Star," Jon said, taking her by her hips while she impatiently took off her pure white nightgown, leaving herself completely naked in front of him.
"Silence my wolf, now please me…." Galadriel demanded, bringing her bosom closer to Jon's face; he smiled, taking her bare bosom in his hands and suckled from them greedily. Galadriel moaned heatedly, embracing her love.
"Soon, my wolf, soon you shall be at my mercy, and I shall reclaim my spear…." Galadriel thought her last ounce of sanity left her as Jon claimed her lips in a fierce kiss.
And thus, their night was one of passion and love for the bond of dragon as elf shone ever bright.
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The following day Galadriel stirred as the sun flowed through the windows.
"What happened?..." Galadriel wondered, only to realise she was naked and the bed she was in wasn't her own though Jon was nowhere to be found; perhaps he had gone to attend a council meeting.
As she looked around the room, her eyes fell on the silvered mirror, and she saw that her spear was missing. She might have wailed until she heard footsteps coming from the bath and a moment later, her aunt Írimë appeared wrapped in a towel, no doubt having just taken her morning bath.
"Aunt…" She whispered in surprise though Galadriel wasn't sure why she should be as Írimë often bathed at this hour still; to look upon her beauty was a treat Galadriel sorely loved.
The sinful desire to share a bed with her aunt burned hotly in her blood... but this was not the time for it.
Her aunt smiled at her. "Good morning, dear niece…."
"Where's Jon?" Galadriel asked sleepily, not bothering to cover her nakedness; her aunt laughed merrily. "Our Nin Mel left with Vhagar at first light... I'm certain he went to his forge" Írimë smiled. "Oh, he also took your spear."
Írimë chortled, "It seems, dear niece, our beloved once again anticipated your plans…." Her aunt was wholly pleased by her misfortune, and Galadriel glowered. "It's not amusing, aunt… Jon took my spear to his forge, for Valar knows what purpose… And he took advantage of me…."
"Oh, my dear niece, it seems to me that it is your well-known pride speaking...Our Nin Mel had good reason to claim your spear and leave you behind... I asked his purpose before he left though he said little, and I hadn't the heart to press him…." Írimë said, wrapping her arms around Galadriel, which she returned happily. Her aunt's buxom form was pleasing to the touch.
At that moment, Galadriel subtly entered her aunt's mind and could see her thwarting Jon that same morning, but before she could ask anything, Jon suddenly took her in his arms and kissed her fiercely, leaving her breathless, promising that he would return in a few weeks.
"I see you tried to help me, dear aunt..." Galadriel thought with disdain as she rested her cheek upon her aunt's bosom, content to listen to her beating heart for a moment. Galadriel thought she might fall asleep again, but she was drawn out of her stupor when Írimë spoke.
"Now, dear niece, as much as I relish our current closeness... I must ask you to leave because the maids will not tarry in their duties, and I have no way to justify your presence here, so I must ask you to retire to your chambers," Yet she did not move, burying her face in Írimë bosom enraptured by the heady aroma of wildflowers and honeysuckle that clung to her.
Unknowingly Írimë embraced her niece tighter, marvelling at her beauty; tarrying as long as she dare, the suddenly Írimë heard the servants approaching and swiftly sent Galadriel on her way, though not before gazing as her niece's pert buttocks retreated out the side door.
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Two months after Jon left for his forge, his family had returned from their sojourn in Minas Ithil; and upon learning where their beloved had gone, they were naturally resentful. Certainly, Galadriel felt pity for them long had they wished to be close to their beloved, and once again, the fool disappears to pursue some business or another.
Yet, to their joy, three days after Shiera's return, Osgiliath fell under the shadow of Vhagar. With that, they knew that their beloved Wolf had returned... and though all were gladdened by his return, something was amiss not seen save by those whose gaze was keen such as Galadriel; it seemed to her that Jon grew aged before her eyes, as if something had snapped in his proud will and gone was his ebon tresses now but a scant whisp of hair upon his head.
"By the Valar... what happened to my Nin Mel?" asked Ìrimë, horrified.
"I know not what misfortune has befallen our wolf, dear aunt, but I pray he well," Galadriel replied worriedly.
It seemed that Jon brought many things, some concealed in cloaks or wrapped in scraps of leather; indeed, before her husband dismounted the dragon, she felt the weariness of his spirit; it was as if he quarrelled with the Lords of Arda in verses of power and prevailed.
Then her mind was filled with visions of green flames, the hammering of metals and screams of anguish, the screams of her beloved; at once, her heart was filled with dread, and Galadriel wondered what reward her wolf garnered from such woe.
Upon seeing the return of their Prince, the entire City cheered and shouted for joy; even the Elves welcomed him heartily, even more so when they learned that he brought many treasures.
It was well known to the Free Peoples that when Jon Snow vanished and suddenly reappeared, he always brought with him objects of great power or ancient knowledge.
Everyone was eager to know what wonders their beloved had brought with him.
And they shan't be waiting long as Vhagar landed gracefully before the tower, and Jon swiftly dismounted her before removing the numerous packages and parcels tied to her scaley hide.
"Welcome, my Prince…" Said one of the Guards of the Tower, eager to greet their Lord… yet keeping a healthy distance from Vhagar.
"Greetings… Inform the Council and my family I have returned," Said Jon commandingly. The man nodded before hurrying into the tower to rouse the old Steward and whatever Lords were in attendance at this hour.
'Well, met my beloved Star...' Jon said suddenly, and Galadriel was so surprised that before she could question Jon, Írimë bolted past her and embraced Jon as if he would disappear should she let him go.
"My Nin Mel, you've come back, but what happened to you?... " Írimë said, clutching at his tunic as weeping at the state of their wolf.
"Hello, my beloved sunbeam..." Jon said, returning Írimë's embrace
It was at that moment a cry of rage was heard, and everyone turned to see Princess Rhaenys at the entrance of the tower; in her hands as always, she bore Dramborleg and appeared willing to cut Írimë in half, but her aunt merely smiled, resting her head upon's Jon's chest.
Rhaenys merely grunted Dramborleg was clutched tight in her hands as she strode over to her brother, altogether displeased by Írimë's boldness.
"Get away from my brother… Witch," Rhaenys said.
Írimë sneered at her and chortled. "You can try to force me… You bestial woman."
And Jon, weary of their arguments, stepped between them.
"Enough, both of you… cease these petty squabbles, or I shall not share what I brought from the forge…." Jon menaced this appeared to work as the women ceased their bickering and instead focused on him, no doubt wishing to know what happened.
"Jon?" Rhaenys asked, clearly startled by his worn appearance.
Jon smiled and embraced her. "Well met, dear sister... I know you have questions, but I think it is better to leave them for when we have gathered the council,"
For Galadriel seeing her aunt behave as a child was rather amusing though she could hardly judge; oftentimes, she was reduced to a swooning mess whenever she spent her days with Jon; still, there was little time for such games. No, she desired to see what treasures her wolf had brought before them, though try as she might, Galadriel couldn't peer into his mind.
"Haha, I'm sorry, My Star; it appears that my continued practice is finally beginning to bear fruit…." Jon said so boisterously one would think her wolf had been crowned the King of Valinor.
"Jon, perhaps you might share your findings with me first?" Galadriel asked excitedly.
"I promise we'll speak later… For now, I must account for my absence, which lasted much longer than expected; my grandmother and Lord Azrubên must be furious… And my dear Star, you might wish to summon your Captains; I'm sure they hope to see this as well…" Jon said, yet Galadriel sensed her love was wearied beyond measure.
"Very well, but my beloved Wolf, you must account for your actions before me as well since you not only left me behind, but you have something that belongs to me, and I want it back…." She threatened, yet Jon merely laughed.
Jon said nothing more on the matter, summoning the servants to take the packages from him and remove the rest from Vhagar's bulk... Something that took longer than expected as none of the servants wished to go near the dragon.
Galadriel sensed the satisfaction the dragon took from causing fear among the Dúnedain beings she deemed lesser than herself, mere servants of her rider who were unworthy of praise.
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After several moments they had all filed into the council chambers with Shiera leading the group, who had returned from Minas Ithil Azrubên, and Rhaella looked entirely displeased. Nevertheless, none could blame them once again; their Prince had gone on some grand adventure. He hadn't thought to inform them; the Elvish assemblage was more cheerful than the men of Westernesse led by Galadriel and her aunt; the princesses were accompanied by three Elves who appeared neither young nor old. So much alike were they that few could tell them apart; dark-haired, grey-eyed, and their faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of blue-grey. All knew them, for they were famous Elves, none other than the legendary Gailben, Pethrion and Narwion, the latter of which fought in the Great Siege of Angband and aided King Thingol in the hunting of Carcharoth.
Upon entering the chambers, they were greeted by the sight of Jon, quite changed since the last time they saw him.
"Jon?" Sansa asked, surprised.
"What happened?" Ashara asked, covering her mouth in horror.
"That's what we all want to know... Jon speak, what foolishness have you visited upon yourself?" Rhaella asked, concerned.
"I endeavoured to rediscover the arts of Valyria after many failures and great harm done to myself; my efforts proved quite fruitful," Jon said, happily glancing at the large pile of parcels resting upon the table.
And with all, looked at the parcels with keen interest, undoubtedly wondering what Jon had brought before them.
But at the same time, Galadriel sensed the displeasure of Rhaella and the old Steward; certainly, they weren't pleased Jon had risked his life once more for some pretty bauble.
"Well, Jon?... What do you have to say in your defence?... What fresh hell have you unleashed this time?" Rhaella growled. Indeed many who saw the aged queen thought perhaps she would throttle Jon, yet the boy merely smiled and poured himself a large draught of wine, downed it in a single gulp and grimaced, seemingly displeased with the drink.
"I… I'm sorry, it took a lot longer than expected… And as for your query… Unfortunately, I know little of what I did," Jon replied.
"What a scoundrel," They all thought, especially Rhaella, who was altogether done with her lover's nonsense.
"You'd better explain what happened to you, Jon, not only your reasoning for delaying your return, although I suspect they are the same..." Galadriel said, looking at her lover penetratingly, and he nodded. "I'll do more than that, my Lady... I'll show you... But I did not come as a beggar to the market... I bring gifts..." Jon said happily, and they snorted
"That's typical of you, my wolf…." Arianne sighed, putting a hand to her head.
"Now, what did you do, Jon?... I doubt it was by choice you lost your hair," Ashara growled.
"Did you forge items of silver, my dragon?" Shiera asked excitedly. Jon grinned. "Not… Silver, no, not this time at least…." Jon said, leaning back in his chair, seemingly pleased with himself.
"Jon…" Rhaella growled, still rather vexed by her grandson's cheek.
"Very well… But soon you shall be praising me…." Jon muttered irritably.
And so her beloved wolf stepped forward, opened the blankets revealing an axe, three daggers, as well as an assortment of necklaces, rings and other trinkets, all of which were set with many jewels and all of which were of such greyish hue they appeared almost black in the morning light.
Instantly the Westersi knew the origin of the strange metal and nearly gasped when Azrubên held one of the blades aloft.
"It's very light and balanced… But the metal, I've never seen anything like it, my Prince…." The old Steward said, placing the sword back on the table.
"It's Valyrian steel, my Lord…." Rhaella said, grabbing one of the necklaces, eager to examine the craftsmanship and perhaps claim said piece as her own.
"Oh, Jon… You've done it…." Ashara whispered happily.
"How?" Daenerys asked excitedly, taking one of the long-bladed daggers from the table. She then began to swing it in great arcs; after several slashes, the young Targaryen, pleased by the weapon, tucked it into her belt and returned to her seat.
"After setting steel to anvil many times and many disappointments, I had exhausted my dragon's forbearance and my own, yet I managed to imbue a part of Vhagar's magic into the metal; alas, the steel couldn't hold the enchantment and melted upon its tempering... I thought of giving up, then remembered our ancestors used blood sorcery when forging. I have never thought to use magics myself and sought another way, so I cut my palm and doused the steel in blood while Vhagar's fire yet burned hot…." Jon said somberly
"And ?" Shiera asked gleefully.
"The steel took on qualities alike to that of Valyrian steel ", Jon replied vexedly.
"But?" Rhaenys asked who had taken the axe from the table.
"Though its strength was the same; it wasn't true Valyrian steel… It needed potency… more than even Vhagar's fire could grant me…." Jon said grimly, recalling those horrid days in the forge. It was then Galadriel spoke, "You used the dragon's blood to temper the blades…." And he nodded.
"That was a true challenge... But I think Vhagar knew that I would ask her eventually; the damn lizard thought it amusing; she made me promise to grant her several tons of lamb and a place inside the city so she may sun herself...bloody lizard is quite the haggler it seems" Jon growled, cursing the pride of his quarrelsome dragon.
They all stared at Jon queerly, perhaps expecting him to reach the end of this amusing joke, but when no end came, all knew he spoke truthfully of the dragon's demands.
"I had never heard that a dragon would want for such trivial things… I thought they loved little save precious gems and gold," Said one of the Elves in bewilderment.
"What happened next, Jon?" Galadriel asked, eager to get back on track and learn more about Valyrian Steel.
"When I had enough Dragon's blood, I tempered the metal… Although the heat was especially fierce... it took days beyond count to remove the impurities, yet that wasn't the queerest thing that happened," Jon said fearfully as if he had committed some great wickedness against the Gods.
"What happened to you, Nin Mel?" Asked Írimë approaching Jon to caress his cheek, but she recoiled in shock as if her hand was burned.
"I'm fine... Now... It seems my body burns hot..." Jon said grimly.
"What happened to you, Jon?" Rhaella asked. He said nothing for a moment, seemingly weighing his words, and soon the room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Then, at last, he spoke.
"There was a time forging that I foolishly wounded myself with one of my creations, and before the wound mended, a drop of Vhagar's blood filled my veins," Jon said taciturnly.
"And then what happened, brother?" Rhaenys asked grimly.
"I thought that would be the end of it, yet when I picked up my hammer, Flames erupted from my body, and my skin began to blacken and blister... In those moments, I felt the horribleness of fire again... The horror of being burned alive..." Jon said, shedding a tear at the horrible memory.
Galadriel, unable to restrain her curiousness, entered the mind of her wolf; at once, she was assaulted by visions of fire and terror; black smoke filled the air and there lay her wolf writhing like some serpent howling in agony she could bear no more and swiftly broke the connection her eyes wet with tears.
"Oh, Jon, what have you brought upon yourself?..." Galadriel thought with unhappiness.
Jon withered but continued his tale "I thought to hurl myself into the waters of the poo...yet the flames wouldn't be quenched, so there I lay in agony as the fires of the forge consumed me... I truly thought it would be my end,"
"I know not how long I lay unconscious; when I awoke, I thought myself in the Halls of Mandos. But, fortunately, the Valar deemed my life too valuable, and I was among the living that day... I struggled to rise, but I couldn't and when at last I returned to the pool for water, what I saw horrified me." Jon said gloomily.
"What did you see, Jon?" Sansa, her voice a whisper of fear.
"Myself Sansa… my flesh was withered and blackened, like parchment beneath a candle flame. I thought to scream, but nothing came out save a goblet of blood, so there I lay as my flesh knitted itself back together and the strength of dragons filled my heart… " Jon said sadly.
To everyone's surprise, Arya ran to Jon, and with tears in her eyes, she embraced him as if he would wither before them, sobbing into his tunic while her dearest wolf returned his cousin's fondness with equal vigour.
"When my strength returned, I looked upon my anvil in fear for I knew the sting of dragon's fire… yet my desire to tend the forge was greater than my fear; I set my hand in the blaze, and to my delight, it was harmless… Again the fire did not hurt me… But something in me had changed… Nin Mel, you noticed it," Jon said, glancing at Írimë while Arya clung to him tighter.
"Your body is consumed by a great heat..." Shiera said, her voice cold and perilous
"Yes, I made a slight cut, and to my surprise, my wound smoked and mended itself... though I fear this to be a curse for my folly," Jon said, pushing Arya away and rising from his seat; Galadriel approached him caring little for their company and laid a kiss upon his brow.
"You'll be fine, Jon… I'm sure this is one more mystery about you that we will discover with time," Galadriel said, lovingly hoping to settle the heart of her love. Jon smiled at her. "Thank you, my Lady…."
At that moment, they heard a cough and turned to Shiera, who kissed him as greedily as she may; when they parted, his silver dragon's face was reddened, and he was much the same.
"Shiera…" Jon said, surprised by her outburst though his silver dragon ignored him and gave Galadriel a look of defiance that wholly displeased the Noldorian Princesses.
"Silence Jon… It seems that you unknowingly carried out a bloody Valyrian ritual of some kind though I cannot fathom which one," Shiera said before rejoining Ashara at the far side of the table.
"Perhaps… though I feel not different save my blood runs hot as the forge," Jon said with a shrug.
"And what happened next, Nin Mel?" Írimë asked, and Jon grimaced. "I resumed my work at the forge though I shall never forget the wrath of dragon's fire. Indeed, if I had known the tribulation that awaited me, I may have ceased my research."
"But Jon, you've done it... You've rediscovered the lost arts of Valyria... You're incredible, my darling wolf," Arianne said, kissing him fiercely, and Jon quite happily returned her passion when they parted for want of air; he smiled. "Thank you for your loving words, Ari… It was a great effort that I had to invest to achieve it…."
"Oh, Nin Mel, I never would have imagined that the men of the Far East could create such beautiful things," Said Írimë examining a few of the necklaces.
"You can take what you wish… And I can certainly make more… Although I ask the captains who accompanied you to judge my craft…." Jon said matter-of-factly, and with their lady's approval, the three elves took the swords from the table and began to swing them.
"The balance is perfect…." Caliban said.
"Indeed, and their edge hard and keen", Narwion seconded, cutting his finger upon the blade.
"Valyrian steel blades are mightier than even the best forged steel of the Westerosi…." Arianne said, glancing at her lover's creations with delight, and now her beloved wolf possessed the secret… If they were to journey Westeros, her beloved would become the wealthiest man in the world, no doubt.
"Valyrian steel can be used for weapons, tools, jewellery, ornaments, and armour... When I was a little girl, one of the men in Connington's service possessed a Valyrian Steel dagger, and the fool used it to shave, " Rhaenys said with sadness in her voice as she remembered her other brother.
At that moment, Jon rose from his seat and embraced his sister, allowing her to sob into his tunic. They were soon joined by Rhaella and Dany, who hoped to console their kin.
Indeed Aegon was the lone family Rhaenys had for many years, and remembering her dear brother after so long away filled her with melancholy.
Galadriel knew her beloved wolf felt some guilt as he forced Rhaella and Daenerys to accompany him to Middle-earth though he knew not of their shared blood.
Azrubên seeing the mood had turned sour, swiftly scrutinised another blade. "Splendid work, my Prince… So this is Valyrian Steel,"
"Indeed, Lord Azrubên, this is dragon forged steel only the best armourers can reforge swords from existing Valyrian steel, which makes the remaining weapons are treasured heirlooms… Yet, on the continent of Essos, there is a City called Qohor known for its wizards and blacksmiths, and their blacksmiths claim to know the magic for reforging Valyrian steel without losing its strength or unsurpassed ability to hold an edge… Although they cannot create it as Jon has done... " Shiera said, enthralled with a Valyrian steel necklace embedded with a sapphire, taking it to herself with a smile.
"So this metal is very scarce in the Outlands?" Narwion asked, still swinging his sword.
"There may be thousands of Valyrian steel blades remaining in the known world, but in Westeros, there are only two hundred such weapons, some of which have been lost or have disappeared from recorded history," Rhaella said gloomily.
"Most Valyrian steel blades in Westeros are treasured heirlooms of noble houses, each with its own name and storied history, and even impoverished lesser houses are unwilling to give them up," Ashara said cheerily, taking a ring for herself.
"Well, dearest grandson, what shall you do now that you've discovered the lost arts of our kin? Perhaps recreate the Galvorn of the Dark Elves," Rhaella asked, amusedly watching her daughter and granddaughter fight over the various baubles Jon had brought.
"I shall continue with the next part of my undertakings..." Jon said to everyone's astonishment
"Next part?... Brother, what more can you do? You've discovered an art lost for centuries uncounted surely that is enough," Rhaenys asked fearfully. Her brother smiled at her and then laughed. "My dearest Rhaenys Valyrian steel, although extraordinary, is merely a metal… It is the hand of the one who works it that matters. Truly there are many mightier than I in the arts of smithing who could work wonders far more splendid than mine with it.."
"Oh, Nin Mel... Do not think so little of yourself... You have created wonders that we had never seen before," Said Írimë before placing a tiara of glittering steel upon her brow. Jon smiled. "That is why my little songbird… Now that I have learned how to create Valyrian Steel, I want to unite it with the wisdom I have learned among the Dwarves and Elves truly that shall be my life's work."
They were all eager to see the wonders that Jon would create with his hands.
"What do you have there, Jon?" Arya asked, suddenly noticing that at Jon's feet, there lay a great parcel wrapped in silken cloth and bound with golden twine; Jon reddened and quickly snatched up the package before any of them could lay claim to it.
"This... is nothing, a work left unfinished, Arya," He said hastily naturally; this spurred their curiosity. Jon, much like the dwarves, does nothing by half-measure; the treasures that lay before them are ample proof of this, so why would he horde something unmade?
"Let us see what you have there, Jon…." Sansa ordered with a frown, but he sprang to his feet and smiled. "No, you will see when it is ready… And I do not hope to hear any more on the matter… Feel free to claim anything that lay before you… And you, my Lords, may keep those blades as heirlooms of your house," Jon said, much to the bafflement of the three truly; he must be the kin of men to offer such treasures so freely, as neither Eldar nor Dwarf did without good reason.
"My Lord, we cannot…." Narwion said in amazement.
"I insist... consider it a pact of goodwill between our peoples..." Jon said with a smile, yet it swiftly vanished when he saw that none of the gifts he brought with him remained, glancing at his lovers, who smiled ruefully, quite pleased they had gotten the pick of the litter, so to speak.
Jon looked at Galadriel and saw she had taken nothing. "Do you not wish to take something, my beloved Star?"
"It is not necessary, my beloved. I am convinced that what you guard so jealously is for me… And although I am delighted that you have learned to speak through Ósanwë, I will ask you to let me take care of forging this path for our minds since you are still inexperienced, and it provokes a great weariness in you…." Galadriel said warily, but she then heard a merry laugh in her mind. "As you say, my Star…be certain to visit me tonight. I have something for you." She reddened, knowing well that her beloved wolf hoped for a rather personal reunion, and she had no thought to rebuke him; indeed, she was gladdened for it.
"With everyone's permission... I shall retire to my chambers... The road was long and wearisome, and I must treat with Magni and apprise him of my rediscovery of Valyrian Steel..." Jon soughed, and at that moment, all could see the weariness of their Lord; indeed, he was akin to a weathered oak stooped low by the ages, and they were worried.
"Jon.." Ashara said worriedly.
"Worry not, my Amethyst Jewel... I just need to rest... I think we're done..." Jon said with a low bow, then he scooped up the parcel in his arms and left the hall, followed closely by Galadriel. As soon as her wolf entered his chambers, he fell onto the bed, fast asleep.
----------------------------------------------
Several hours had passed since Jon fell asleep, and in all that time, they tended to him. first came Arianne, then Dany, then Ashara, followed closely by Shiera, Rhaella, Rhaenys; next came Írimë as she had lost a coin toss with the former and finally herself
Galadriel was quite pleased to spend this time with Jon as they rarely did so unless in the company of others, so she thought it would be a rather lovely idea to take up her sewing needles and fashion another jerkin for her beloved.
It was then that Jon began to wake up and Galadriel contently put her weaving aside.
"Well met, My Wolf..." Galadriel said warmly, happy to see he was up and about.
"My Star..." Jon said, delighted that she had stayed with him; she could hardly contain herself and kissed her wolf fervently; unlike her aunt, she couldn't reveal her love to her Wolf in front of her captains and must make up for lost time as it were.
"My beloved Galadriel... You take my breath away..." Jon said, pleased.
She was about to reply, but her countenance soured when she remembered her beloved's ebon locks were gone. Jon saw her sadness and kissed her once more.
"My beloved, my hair shall grow back... It's only a matter of time..." Jon answered, bringing her closer to his chest. She was astonished at the heat that stemmed from her lover; although it was not unbearable for her, actually, it was quite pleasant, and Galadriel had to summon all her strength to simply stay awake.
"Even though I enjoy your company like you can't imagine, my love... I'll ask you to go and open your present..." Jon said with a smile noticing her dissatisfaction.
"I'm rather content, my beloved... I can wait..." Galadriel growled, not wanting to separate from her love and more so since he began to play with her hair.
"Aye, I know my dearest Star, yet I have toiled greatly to forge the gift for you so it would gladden me for you to unwrap them away from prying eyes," Jon said, laying a tender kiss upon her brow, and she relented, rising from the bed and retrieving the parcel.
Galadriel quickly untied the thread, and there lay two objects of indescribable beauty, the first a necklace and the second a spear.
The spear was… Beautiful, its haft was carved from mallorn overlaid with a tracery of prancing wolves and leaves wrought of silver and gold; its head was thrice forged and glittered cold and bright.
The necklace was strung on silver wire and set with many gems... Galadriel was delighted as it was much the same as the necklace her wolf had left in Thranduil's keeping lo those many years ago, yet this one was fairer still, set with some two hundred emeralds green as grass and about each emerald was a ray of seven diamonds it shone like silver in the firelight, and at once Galadriel knew it was forged from Valyrian steel.
A necklace like no other wrought of dragon's steel and the love of the Eldar.
"Jon…" Galadriel asked, struggling to hold back tears of joy.
"Sshhh… Don't say anything, my sweet Galadriel, so you may ever carry a piece of me whenever you go…." Jon said, taking the necklace from her hands and placing it around her neck; she smiled upon seeing herself in the silvered mirror; it was a far grander gift than Thranduil had gotten.
"It's beautiful…." Galadriel said, caressing her new necklace.
"No, you are my dearest star verily these gems are fairest because you wear them without your splendour; they are mere gems strung upon wire…." Jon said, kissing her neck as Galadriel closed her eyes in delight and reddened at her love's words.
"The spear is also a wonderful gift… The wolves are a lovely touch…." Galadriel said, suddenly hurling Jon onto the bed and swiftly laying atop him.
"Eager…" Jon said cheekily
"It's your fault, my Wolf; none make me feel as you do, for our love is more splendid than all the gems of Valinor... But, although your gifts are splendid, I want my spear back..." Galadriel requested.
"No.." Was Jon's answer, and Galadriel pinched his cheek hard.
"Why do you insist on taking it away, my Silly Wolf?... " Galadriel asked, rueing not being able to caress Jon's curls until they grew back.
"Simply because it's amusing to tease you, my star... You'll have to keep your promise and wait a few months for your spear..." Jon said, amused, and she grumbled again before kissing him.
"Despite his nobility, my beloved behaves like a child… I shall never know how he captured my heart, but I wouldn't change it for the world…" Galadriel thought happily, kissing her wolf again.
end of flashback
--------------------
Alas, her plans did not work much to her vexation but still… Galadriel valued her new lance; certainly, her husband was an extraordinarily talented armourer as well as an excellent jeweller.
Her spear could cleave steel and stone as if it were green wood. And her necklace shone with the splendour of the moon; indeed, all of Jon's lady loves requested to necklaces of such make chiefly Shiera, who Galadirel knew delighted in things of silver and diamond.
It was then her beloved wolf stirred, and she smiled happily.
"You've risen early, my star. " Jon said, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"It's late, Jon… near midday, I reckon, yet you looked so lovely sleeping I hadn't thought to wake you," Galadriel said, snickering.
"Very good, my Star…." Jon said happily.
"You are most welcome, my beloved wolf... Now it would be well to call some servants and have them draw a bath. I believe the Steward wished to speak with you..." Galadriel said merrily
"Don't forget my star, you shan't share my bed tonight; that honour has been promised to Shier and Ashara…." Jon said happily though Galadriel was anything but pleased
To share her wolves' bed, a place that by right only belongs to her aunt Írimë and more than anyone to Galadriel herself.
-----------------------------------------
Later…
After a quick bath, Jon set out for the Great Hall; he was famished, and though the old Steward wished to see him, he thought it best to have some breakfast. Upon entering the hall, he was welcomed by the sight of his loved ones eating and chatting merrily; well, Sansa and Arya were arguing over some foolish matter, and it seemed Shiera was teasing Rhaenys, yet it was a lovely sight all the same.
Seeing him enter and take his seat at the table, everyone's faces were filled with love, and their smiles lit up the room like stars; seeing him approach, Arianne and Daenerys quickly stood up and claimed new seats on either side of him.
"Good morning…" Jon said with a slight smile.
"Hello, my Wolf…" Arianne said, kissing him unawares only to be separated from her by an envious Daenerys, who began to kiss him just as fiercely.
"Hello, Dany…" Jon said happily as his aunt laid her head on his chest.
"Hello, dear nephew… You were late… We've already concluded breakfast…." Daenerys reproached him softly.
"I know, I didn't mean to…." Jon tried to justify himself, but Shiera growled.
"Save your excuses; we know you had a…wearisome night with the Lady Galadriel…." Shiera muttered enviously as she finished her breakfast.
Jon was grateful that there were no servants to hear that he doubted he would hear the end of it if the Elves had been present.
"Lady Shiera…" Jon's grandmother said reproachfully.
"Calm down, my love…." Ashara muttered before kissing her, though Jon could see she was vexed as well.
"Lord Azrubên said he wanted to speak with you about an important matter Jon…." Rhaella said icily.
"I know, Grandma… He would say no more on the matter, but I suspect he wishes to retire from his role," Jon said gloomily, much to their bewilderment.
"Are you certain?" Rhaella asked, setting aside her jealousy for the moment.
"I have felt it... our endearing Steward is... weary, he summoned me to the Dome of Stars, and I suspect his last actions as steward shall be instructing me in its use..." Jon said taciturnly.
Before he could be asked any more questions, the maids brought his breakfast.
The maids quickly placed the breakfast and milk jug in front of him, filling him with the sweet scents of freshly seasoned ham and twice-baked caked; he hadn't asked for them, but it seems the maids wished to be amiable, and that was no bad thing at all.
But before he could even reach for the silverware, Arianne snatched it, and Daenarys poured his milk.
Arianne, smiling, cut the ham and served him a piece; though he enjoyed her pampering, he could see the jealously of the others, chiefly Sansa and Arya, who were gripping their cutlery with such strength their knuckles turned white.
Soon he finished his meal and kissed them both. "Thank you," Jon said happily; it was then he noticed his loves staring at him sourly.
"What vexes you, my family?" Jon asked curiously.
"Don't play the fool, brother. We know of the necklace you gave Galadriel," Rhaenys growled while twirling her knife evilly.
"Why haven't you made gems like that?" Shiera muttered jealously.
"Did you not claim all the treasures I brought…" Jon chirped, and they had the decency to redden.
"That… That… It's not important…." Ashara said, looking away.
"And I remind you that I composed a book of poems for each of you… So you don't have to be envious… I've said many times none among you are lesser in my eyes," Jon said, recalling the many long months he spent composing those sonnets, yet he wouldn't change it for the world when he saw the happiness of his lady loves.
Sansa and Arya frowned. They hadn't received a book of sonnets which filled them with envy and sadness. Did Jon not love them as they love him? Would he spurn their love? It was a cruel fate, but they dared not admit their feelings for fear of his rejection.
"Oh, my Wolf… I love it when you talk like that," Arianne said, hoping to seduce her wolf, but Jon rebuked her. "I'm sorry, Ari, but I have to go… Lord Azrubên must be waiting for me, and I sincerely hope that my feeling is wrong… I'm fond of our old Steward… Although I would like to know where Lalwen has gotten to,"
"The Lady Írimë has breakfast early, and at this moment, she is teaching some noble Ladies to weave; the lesson should be over soon," Daenerys said.
"Alright, I'm sorry, but I must go…." Jon said, bowing low.
After a short walk, he came before the door; there sat guards, with spears in hand, silent; they stood now above and spoke no word until Jon stepped forward; at once, they lept forward and opened the great silvered doors and thus Jon entered the Chamber of Stars.
There stood Azrubên besides the seeing stone; the Steward was greatly diminished, so bent with age that he seemed almost a dwarf, and his beard was laid like snow upon his chest, but his eyes still burned with a bright light, and now he must lean upon a cane of steel though he had lost none of his wits.
"My Prince…" The old Steward said, bowing.
"Lord Azrubên…" Jon said with a nod.
"My Prince, I'm sorry to bother you so early…."
"Don't worry, my Lord… I know why you've summoned me. I'd wager…." Jon said regretfully, and the old man in front of him nodded.
"Your Foresightedness is superb as always, my Prince, but yes... I am sure you have noticed that I am very old; I spent my youthful years sailing with Lord Amandil when he was a mighty and celebrated Captain before Númenor was swallowed by the waves…." Said the noble Steward remembering his youth and happier years.
"I am sorry for your loss, my Lord", Jon said, but the old man smiled. "I have learned to see Middle-earth as a home; it fills me with joy to know that my children and grandchildren shall grow to manhood in our blessed Realm, keeping the legacy of Númenor alive."
"I will see that as long as I rule this city, that is the fairest house East of the Sea…." Jon said.
"Thank you, my Prince; I did not expect less from you... I know very well that when we met, I did not do much to earn your favour; of course, I knew you by name and achievements, though I was angered to relinquish my authority to so young a man. You were mighty in war, yes, but to lead a people and lead a city are entirely different matters, and I'm pleased to say you've done the best for our peoples, and I'm honoured to have known you as long as I have." Lord Azrubên said, addressing him as a proud father would a son
"You're welcome, my Lord; I value your words and advice... And I'll be very sorry for your departure," Jon said sadly.
"It's the best; I feel like little by little death is approaching me, although at my three-hundred and seventy-eight, it is to be expected; it is an achievement to have lived so long even for a Númenórean... " The old man sighed.
"And I will live longer than that…." So Jon thought, wondering if the weariness of life would consume him like the Steward.
"I just want to rest and spend my last years surrounded by my family, knowing that this City will be in good hands." The Steward said.
"I vow to do my best for Osgiliath while I am your Prince; I will use all my power, all my knowledge and all the means at my disposal so that this City endures as a place of light and beauty and music," Jon seemed to have grown in stature... and in his living face, Azrubên caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the kings of Westernesse.
"I expected no less of you, my Prince… But I'm afraid that now we must come to the matter that concerns us…." The old Steward said gloomily, and Jon stepped forward.
"It's time then... Use this stone, one of Fëanor's creations," Jon said, raising his right hand to the crystal sphere yet not daring to touch it.
"Using the Palantiri is not that difficult if your will is strong, and I have no doubt that yours is indomitable, and you seem to have an uncanny gift for quickly mastering the mysterious and arcane." The old Steward said.
"What should I do?" Jon asked.
"Just touch the Palantiri and focus your sight with both your eyes and your mind; the first time can be overwhelming, but it's all a matter of discipline... You must not be afraid, my Prince," Lord Azrubên said solemnly.
Jon sighed and focused his mind with all his will, and touched the stone… The effect was instant.
Jon instantly felt his body being ripped from the ground at breakneck swiftness as he watched hundreds of images.
King Elendil at Annúminas attending his Court, King Durin at Khazad-Dûm, Lord Elrond in his study at Imladris, and Lord Círdan overseeing shipbuilding at the Gray Havens; lastly, he saw the King Gil-Galad and his master Glorfindel in the former's palace.
Jon was about to scream as he was overwhelmed, but he could hear a familiar and frantic voice letting out a tremendous cry for help.
HELP ME!...
Recalling at that moment what he knew of the Palantiri, Jon chose to discipline his mind and concentrated on the voice asking for help, and one by one, the images of his mentors and loved ones faded as the voice grew louder, and that is when he found the source it was the voice of King Isildur desperately asked for help.
Jon spoke first, unsure if the King could hear him. "King Isildur… is that you?" Isildur stood there, undoubtedly surprised he was using the stone, but then, "Jon? is that you."
Jon lamented at the strain of the stone, "Yes, tell me what ails you immediately because this is my first time using the Palantiri, and I don't know how long I can withstand it…."
"Praise be to the Valar", Isildur said though his voice was weary beyond his age.
"What has happened?" Jon asked, growing ever weary.
"They are attacking us! The Enemy assails us with warriors beyond count Orcs, Trolls and Goblins!... Isildur said desperately, and Jon's heart sank in fear.
"Sauron has made his move against the Dúnedain at last… We shall send you aid, Isildur, and the Orcs shall taste the sting of Dragon's fire…." Jon promised. He heard nothing for a moment, and then Isildur wept, "Jon, the White Tree of my City, the greatest memory of our home and symbol of our friendship with the Elves and the Valar… It was destroyed…."
"No…" Jon said, shedding tears of pain and sorrow as an image of the City as he saw the noble kin of Nimloth the fair hewed down by Trolls and set ablaze.
"I managed to save a sapling, but I cannot stay here; I have to save my family, as many subjects as I can… And the tree, well, I know that Sauron will not rest until all memory of my kin is but dust in the wind…." Isildur growled angrily.
"I swear we shall come as soon as able", Jon said.
"I am depending on you… I will try to speak with my brother and ask Lord Azrubên to try to do the same with my father."
And then he returned to the Dome of Stars Azrubên at his side, looking pleased. "My Prince... Oh, praise the Valar; I thought something had happened to you... you were gone for a great deal of time,"
"Minas Ithil is under siege by Sauron's forces..." Jon said suddenly, and the Steward stepped back in alarm.
"But… are you certain?" Azrubên asked.
"Yes, King Isildur has beseeched us for aid… The city is almost lost… And the white tree was burned…." Jon said, shedding tears while Azrubên fell to the ground weeping.
"How could this happen?" Said the noble elder.
"On your feet, friend, we have work to do... Our King asked us for aid, and we will give it to him; we will send forces to the aid of King Isildur and our brothers in Minas Ithil... But first, you must try to inform King Elendil of what has happened... We cannot lose more time..." Jon said, swearing an oath of vengeance against the Lord of Mordor.
At that moment, Jon helped Lord Azrubên to his feet.
"Of course, my Prince…." The old Steward said, retaking his cane as he lamented the ill fortunes of his kin.
"Then let's go..." Jon said determinedly.
Before he departed the chambers, Jon bent his mind southwards"Deathclaw come now fell deeds awake fire and slaughter now your talons must be wetted with the blood of Orcs."
Notes:
Thanks to great_red and I recently acquired a font that is much like the font of Middle-Earth would you like me to convert the story to this font.