Chapitre 1598: 76
Chapter Text
Osgiliath day of departure
Finally, after some weeks of preparation Jon and his companions departed Osgiliath, bidding farewell to Anárion and Menendil; it was a bitter parting for his friend as his daughter would shelter in Imladris for the remainder of the war honestly if Jon had had his way he might remain here while Anárion went North alas their fates were set, and there was little good trying to fight it.
At last, the day of departure came, and a great and fair company made ready to ride north from the City; their leaving was an occasion of great joy and sadness; the trumpets rang in chorus, and the maidens threw flowers at the feet of their horses in was in the manner last saw the realm he had ruled for half a century a realm he would not look upon for many years hence for the War of the Last Alliance had begun.
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In this way, Jon and his companions began their long journey through the verdant plains of Calenardhon escorted by the young soldier Elendil had sent as emissaries though the presence of these boys vexed him greatly as his King desired to teach him a lesson, and Jon learned much.
Since their coming to Osgiliath, the green boys had treated him with such reverence as to be worthy of remembrance; alas, they knew little of him beyond the tales told by their families though they weren't of unworthy stock some nobles and farmers' sons it seems the boys hoped for undying glory rather than march in formation.
Indeed, Jon knew now to not displease his King so greatly as his last days in Osgiliath were ones of weariness and frustration; despite the reverence they held for him, the fools had no desire to march in step nor learn to form a spear wall several times he was forced to batter them into submission when lust for glory prevailed over common sense, and he feared these boys had much to learn if they wished to be counted among the armies of Arnor.
Alas, the vainglory of green boys wasn't the only peril he faced; his three companions had returned to the city chief among them was Ghost and Lady, accompanied by a new litter of Wolf pups.
Indeed, he had lost count of the wolves sired by his oldest friend. He often feared that the Free Peoples would think his companion the sire of Carcharoth, yet Ghost and Lady proved their valour many times over guarding the borders of Gondor and Arnor against all manner of dark creatures.
Guilelessly, the Dúnedain desired such wolves for themselves, yet Lady would have none of it, frightening any who dared come before them with such intentions though Ghost sat before them silent as death, perhaps gaining the measure of those who wished to claim his litter as companions.
For his part, the Gryphon of Lord Manwë had returned after some years abroad; naturally, the beast had expected to be treated with adoration befitting his station, and for a time it was peaceful until Deathclaw learned that Vhagar had been given a place of her own within the City.
Fortunately, there was little time to construct such a place, and Deathclaw was forced to content himself with dwelling in the Palace, and the gryphon had yet to forgive him. Indeed, he had flown ahead to Arnor rather than aid them; fortunately, Ghost and Lòmerocco had no interest in such trivialities; alas, the same couldn't be said of Vhagar.
The dragoness had often amused herself by tormenting his young wards; she would swoop low over the tiltyard frightening the men and Elves who lingered there, chief among them the Emissaries of Elendil; the poor fools were terrified beyond reckoning whenever her shadow passed overhead. Jon had forbidden her from causing such unrest, but his admonishments were received with billows of smoke and soot, often scorching his clothes.
Jon cursed the frivolity of his companions to rule a city was wearying in its own right, more so when hindered for the amusement of a dragon indeed, it was no great surprise that the peasants had celebrated the dragons passing North with them, though Jon could see the fear in the faces of the more sensible peasants who worried now their greatest defenders would no abide in Arnor.
With those thoughts in mind, Jon urged his horse out the western gates and thus began their journey to the Northern realm.
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They marched towards Annúminas with due haste, in that riding went also Queen Berendreth, the daughters of Anárion, and Írimë and Galadriel with their folk, and Isildur and his sons, and many captains and knights.
Lalwen and Galadriel were exceptionally pleased travelling in the Queen's carriage guarded at all times by a retinue of Noldorian Axemen. While Shiera, Ashara, Sansa and his grandmother rode upon their horses, desiring to esteem the vast meadows and grasslands of the Calenardhon, at night, they would make camp though if one were to stumble upon them, it would seem more a city of tents.
Rhaella and Dany shared a tent, as did Shiera and Ashara, Sansa and Arya had another, and Rhaenys and Arianne were the final pair… And save for his cousins, they all slept with him in shifts.
He had taken to sleeping in his own tent though this was seldom alone as Lalwen often shared his bed as his Valar blessed consort. Fortunately, Galadriel had lain with him several nights thanks to Lalwen's help, often switching places with her aunt so as not to arouse the suspicions of the Noldor, though this did little to dissuade the Elves from eyeing him as a hawk would a mouse.
Undoubtedly, they are wary of his intentions regarding their Lady; unbeknownst to the Elves, it was far too late.
Fortunately, the journey was without peril as they passed through the Gap of Angrenost and at last came to southern Eriador, ever guarded by the watchful eyes of Ghost and Lady.
However, he was hardly afforded any peace as the boys still required his guidance. Jon loathed Elendil's punishment; though he wished the boys no ill will, they refused to heed his instruction, and slowly his mood darkened; fortunately, Rhaenys and Arya, sensing his misery, offered to instruct them as well as to lighten his burden.
Jon had nearly wept in joy, especially as he could now spend his days with his kin. However, all was not well unbeknownst to him, the boys were somewhat dim-witted, especially for Númenóreans though he suspected they were of the Rhovanion stock. They had foolishly said that a woman shouldn't march to war as their battle was in the birthing bed.
On that day, Rhaenys and Arya's wrath was terrible to behold, falling upon the arrogant boys with the fury of Dragon's each time the boys came away with blackened eyes, split lips and bruises plenty. But, swiftly after their humiliation at the hands of his sister and cousin, the boys treated them with great respect, always eager to learn or hear of shortcomings they must correct though the handling of swords was not all they had learned.
In those months on the road, he had learned that the boys could scarcely read or even write, nor could they navigate with a map, so he endeavoured to teach them reading while Arya and Rhaenys led their training in arms aided by the Noldor though Jon suspected his beloved Star allowed this in the hopes of proffering a favour from him.
A fortnight after they had begun their journey and struck camp for the night, he spied his dearest Galadriel cheerfully knitting something of silvery thread; she must have felt his gaze on her and laughed merrily.
'Do not forget, my dearest wolf, that you vowed to forge new jewels for us; though I shall forgive you in light of Elendil's discipline, alas, you and I, to my great dismay, have barely spent time together, I suspect too that my guards have grown suspicious' Galadriel said gloomily.
'I know; they have already begun to suspect our closeness!' Jon said sadly. She set aside her needles and frowned; it pained Galadriel to see her love like this though she could do little without being discovered.
'Yes, but they are not sure, they only suspect, how I yearn to shout our love to heavens, but not like this, not today, be wary my men watch you day and night, they think you take too many liberties with me.' Galadriel thought embarrassedly.
Jon laughed merrily. 'If they only knew, my love', she swiftly reddened at struck his mind.
'This is grave, Jon; we can't be foolish!' Galadriel growled, and Jon nodded.
'I know, you are right, my beloved Galadriel… Well, now I will enjoy my well-deserved rest,' Jon said gaily, and Galadriel laughed melodiously in her mind.
'Aye, my love, best you do so now; once we reach Annúminas, I expect you to make good on your promise. I desire to be the fairest maiden in the Northern Realm', Galadriel said mischievously before swiftly closing her mind and resuming her knitting.
'By the Valar, I'd never imagined my dearest could be so vain, yet I fear I shall not be given such free reign of the forge.' Jon thought, dreading their coming to Annúminas as he knew that Elendil would set him to the defences of the City and tend to the armoury so he would have little time to forge such niceties for his loves, so for now, he would devote himself to the teaching of the boys and spending what time he could with his loves.
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6 Weeks Later…
After weeks of travelling through Eriador, they were welcomed by a sight they hadn't seen in half a century Annúminas, the Capital of the Northern Kingdom.
The city was as they remembered astride Lake Evendim, shining as silver in the pale light of the morning; standing before the city gates was a great host clad in bright mail, each bearing the banner of the Northern Star.
Soon they found themselves before the welcoming party, and to Jon's great joy, it was Loras who led them; time had been kind to his brother; he now stood tall as Garlan, and his golden brown locks were shorn about his shoulders, and like Garlan, he had grown a beard, yet most strange was his armour Loras was clad steel plate of a deep forest-green cradled under one arm was an antlered helm, its magnificent rack shimmering in gold.
Jon knew it well; it was of a similar fashion that Renly Baratheon had worn those many decades ago.
Seeing his foster brother for the first time in years, he swiftly rode forward accompanied by Isildur until they were, at last, a mere foot away from Loras and the gathered knights.
'King Isildur…' Loras said graciously.
'Ser Loras…' answered Isildur in King.
'Your father is waiting for you; I trust your journey was a safe one.' said the Knight of Roses merrily.
'So it was, thanks to the Valar… I assume my father sent you to welcome us?' Isildur said.
'Aye, your father eagerly awaits you and Jon,' Loras said evilly before turning to face him.
'You're late!' Loras snarled.
'I am not late, My brother. Nor am I early; I arrived precisely when I meant to,' Jon said ruefully.
'I see, My Prince, I hadn't thought you a Wizard nor a beggar selling buttons at the door to dictate his comings and goings as he chooses', Loras scoffed, and Jon gritted his teeth.
'Calm yourself, boy… I see you cultivated a beard; such shame wouldn't want you to appear as a Northern savage?' Jon asked mockingly.
The rest of the company only watched the subtle exchange of insults and glanced at each other.
When had their relationship soured so much?
'I see you're still insolent… I hope you enjoyed your punishment! Loras said mockingly, and Jon's eyes widened as he understood Loras's words.
'Was it you who sent these inexperienced soldiers to me?' Jon growled angrily, and Loras smiled.
'Robar helped too; he chose the illiterate… what was it like teaching them?' Loras asked, and Jon glowered.
'You will pay for this scoundrel….' Jon swore, and they leapt from their horses and charged
He heard Isildur shout after him, but it was too late. He and Loras were already upon each other.
As they brawled, Jon had a smile on his face bracing against Loras' barrage of blows before his oldest friend tackled him, and they were on the ground.
'I've missed you greatly, friend', Jon wept happily.
'It has been too long, brother', Loras said, and they embraced happily, for it had been many long years, yet their brotherhood was strong as a blooming rose of their youth.
'Couple of childish fools!' Shiera growled while Ashara and Sansa nodded in like-mindedness.
'Oh, my foolish wolf….' Arianne sighed wearily.
'By the Valar, even after all these long years, they still behave like children', Daenerys murmured furiously.
Rhaenys said nothing but looked as though she wished to beat her brother about the head with Dramborleg.
Írimë and Galadriel remained silent, though they were displeased by their husband's childish reunion with his brother in arms.
Jon was going to pay for embarrassing them in front of his men and the Dúnedain… she would see to that, oh yes, her wolf would forge many things for them ere they go to war.
Arya merely laughed at her cousin's antics.
'Come, King Elendil awaits you in the Palace. He is eager to see you, especially you, dearest brother,' Loras said maliciously.
'Shall this reunion be for good or ill?' Jon asked sharply.
'What do you think?' Loras replied, incapable of masking his delight.
'Bastard...' Jon muttered before, one by one, he aided his loves and cousins off their horses though each gave him a look of disappointment, not that it mattered until he felt two people strike him and curse in pain. Jon turned around and was greeted by the sight of Rhaenys and Írimë clutching their hands and wincing in pain.
'That stung…' Jon growled.
'Don't complain, fool!' Rhaenys growled, her eyes wet with tears.
'It's true, Nin Mel, by the Valar, your body is hard as oak...' Írimë said, caressing her hand gently.
'So it seems...' Jon said, glancing at Shiera, who laughed merrily, recalling how she went through much the same though Ashara swiftly pinched her cheek, hoping to stifle her giggles.
'Damned woman,' said the silver dragon caressing her cheek.
'Tis a merry gathering though it would be foolish to keep my father waiting, so let us be off,' Isildur said, amused by the antics of the Westerosi.
'As my King wishes….' Jon said, eager to discipline Lalwen and Rhaenys for their cheek.
Jon laughed happily before offering his hand to Arianne, who took it graciously though he was not done and likewise offered his other arm to Galadriel, who eyed him for a moment before smiling and looping her arm through his, and thus he followed after Isildur and Loras flanked by his lady loves no doubt to the astonishment of all.
Írimë and Rhaenys watched incredulously as he was escorted by two maidens, and Jon saw their faces swiftly reddened; he knew they would punish him for this later.
Jon, Arianne, and Galadriel walked arm in arm as all the men of Arnor began to whisper about his closeness to the Lady of Light; no doubt many of them recalled his romance with Írimë verily it was common knowledge that he and Írimë were wed in the eyes of the Elves.
Yet they hadn't an inkling of how close he and Galadriel were, merely assuming it a friendship that bloomed from their shared kin and whole the Dúnedain were quite blessed to foster such relations with the Noldor, the Elves who accompanied them were less than pleased a seed of jealously had taken root in many of their hearts thinking his closeness to Galadriel was born of arrogance.
'Oh, if only they knew', Jon thought amusedly as they were escorted through the gates of steel.
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As they walked through the streets of the City, he was filled with a fierce joy Annúminas was fair as he remembered her streets of white stone and the air filled with the scent of flowers and baked goods; they were greeted uproariously by the Arnorians who cheered, sang and made merriment amusedly some of the children had sown silken banners that proudly displayed the Wolf of Stark and the Dragon of Targaryen.
'Where's Robar?' Jon asked, eager to know about his second brother in arms.
'By our King's side… he has grown greatly and now serves as Elendil's advisor. But, alas, his duties as Captain of the City Watch have fallen to me,' Loras said gloomily.
He and Arianne exchanged a look before laughing uproariously while Galadriel looked at him with a small smile.
'It seems that you enjoy your friend's sorrow, my Wolf', Galadriel said, delighted.
'Aye, my Star, ' He replied cheekily, and his Lady huffed amusedly though Jon knew she thought it amusing as well.
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Finally, after what seemed an hour of moving through the vast crowds, they had, at last, come to the Palace of Annúminas. The guards raised the spears in salute as Jon and his kin were welcomed inside though rather than a sombre affair, it seemed the Palace had been furbished for a feast.
'It is to be expected, the Lady of Light and High King Fingolfin's sister are with us along with a retinue of their own King Elendil would not allow such a lack of decorum with such important guests even if we are at war', Jon thought with amusement.
'Oh, my Wolf, I know that this is not the time for another party; however, I have been given a splendid opportunity to show the fruits of my labour', Galadriel said so gleefully for a moment he thought she may do away with dignity and kiss him on the spot.
'Very well, my dear Star, I am anxious to see the silver tunic you wove for me; let's see if it rivals Írimë's work' Though he could say no more as Galadriel assaulted his mind angrily, it was so strong he nearly fell to his knees in anguish.
'Forgive me, my Star, I misspoke.' Jon said; fortunately, the pain swiftly ceased though Galadriel eyed him angrily.
'Aye, my bold Wolf, my creation is at least as pleasing as my aunt's!' Galadriel said proudly. Though Jon suspected this may be a fantasy of his beloved, despite her wisdom and purity of spirit and grace, Galadriel was still a lady… And a very wicked one when she desired to be or was offended as she is now.
'Oh, my beloved, forgive me, I shall not hold other's work in so high regard... and will proudly wear the tunic you made for me.' Jon groaned in vexation.
'Yes, my beloved, what else shall you promise me?' Galadriel asked amusedly.
'And the first and last pieces of the dance that will surely take place tonight will belong to you!' He replied bashfully.
'Oh, thank you, my foolish Wolf, you can be so loving when you wish', Galadriel said gaily, concluding her assault upon his mind, and at last, he could walk normally again.
'Are you well, Jon?' Arianne asked worriedly, but he merely smiled and kissed her.
'Yes, my beloved Ari, I'm well, merely an irritating headache', Jon growled, and Galadriel's iron grip tightened.
'It seems you haven't learned your lesson, my foolish Wolf!' Galadriel threatened maliciously.
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At last, they came to the throne room of the King; there, Elendil sat upon his throne just as Jon remembered him kingly, beautiful, and mighty; he was clad in a raiment of white and silver upon his brow shone the Elendimir and in his hand was the sceptre of Annúminas. Unfortunately, the years had begun to take their toll on the Great King, although still strong and beautiful, his face bore some wrinkles, and his ebon locks were shot through with silver,
To his right was his second brother-in-arms, Robar Royce, now counsel to the King.
As with Loras, time had been kind to Robar. He stood near as tall as himself and was fair of face and strong of body; he was clad in a tunic of bronze thread embroidered with the runes of his house, a fine garment no doubt woven by skilled hands.
The owner of such hands was undoubted to the right of Robar. Lady Andreth, the daughter of Lord Erendur of the Havens of Pelargir, Robar's betrothed, she was clad in a dress of wheat yellow, and her ebon tresses were done up in an elegant braid.
Jon and Isildur stood before the throne and bowed low, greeting their King.
'Father'
'My King…'
He regarded them for a moment before rising from his throne and welcoming them, 'I am gladdened to see you, my son, and I welcome you as well, my Ladies. I offer succour and hospitality in these dark days,' Elendil said solemnly.
'Your generosity is appreciated, King Elendil...' Galadriel said kindly.
'This time, we have a proper reception for your arrival, my Ladies; let it not be said that Arnor does not know how to receive important guests...' Elendil said, nodding.
'We know these are dark times; such generosity is unnecessary.' Írimë said with a smile.
'I insist… Your rooms have already been prepared… rest now, and we shall speak of the War later,' Elendil said, glancing at his son and ally, who wilted under his gaze.
'It has been many years, my King….' Jon said, but Elendil silenced him with a gesture.
'Aye, Jon, though I am not ignorant of your comings and goings nor of your recent deeds!' Elendil said implacably as Isildur and the Westerosi paled in fear at the King's stern gaze.
'Father…' Isildur muttered, hoping to come to Jon's defence, but his father silenced him.
'However, your heroic acts of valour saved the lives of my eldest son and my grandchildren; for that, I am in your debt doubly so as you've strengthened our cities and armouries,' Elendil said merrily, eyeing the gems and jewellery of his Prince's companions in wonderment.
'Aye, father, Jon has created many wonders, chief among them my blade,' Isildur said proudly, drawing Ithiel from its scabbard, and at once the chamber was filled with a cold light.
'It's glorious, son!' Elendil said, marvelling at the glittering blade of his heir.
'Yes, and brother's weapon is even more remarkable than my own', Isildur said, recalling Anárion's fiery sword.
'I'm eager to see her upon the field,' Elendil said with a slight smile.
'Verily, my King, those Jon has wrought better than weapons of war,' Shiera said cheerily, revealing the glittering orb than shone with the radiance of Nimloth's bloom.
The mere sight of the glittering orb filled the Dúnedain with delight and awe, who had seldom seen such beauty wrought by mortal hands.
'It's beautiful...' King Elendil said, enraptured by the silvery glow of Nimloth's flower.
'Thank you, My King, in it is the last blossom of Nimloth... it is wrought is imperishable silver tempered by Vhagar's fire,' said Jon proudly, pleased that his labours were rewarded with such praise.
'Verily King Elendil... often times my kin would consort outside Lady Shiera's window to admire its beauty at night,' Írimë said smiling radiantly, though her eyes betrayed her resentfulness as not being close to Jon.
'I can't conceive of the arts that allowed you to forge things of such beauty,' Elendil said, eyeing the sphere with rapt attention.
'Do not fret, my King. I am certain my brother shall beautify Arnor as he did Gondor,' Rhaenys said happily, though he was displeased that his sister would volunteer him for such tasks.
'Of course, I have learned much of Jon's rule as Prince… It seems you were wise to abide with the dwarves for those many years. But, alas, it seems none among us have such dedication,' Elendil said; it was clear that he was speaking of Loras and Robar.
The two knights said nothing though their soured countenance said much of their embarrassment.
'Don't fret, My King... I'm certain Jon shall prove his reputation,' Rhaella said with a smile full of mischief, and all were surprised that the Targaryen matriarch would lend herself to such games when she was the most sensible of them.
'Grandmother...' Jon said, fearful of having to labour on the walls of Annúminas so soon; of course, he intended to fortify the defences of Annúminas, but by the Valar, he had hoped rest for a while.
'A splendid idea, my Lady Rhaella, there is no doubt that Jon's loyalty to me is so great that he will work diligently to improve the fortifications of my City and my arsenal...' Elendil said, glancing at him mirthfully.
'I'll do it, my King bids,' Jon said, resignedly knowing he would have no peace till the war's end.
Then suddenly Elendil laughed. He stood up tall and proud. 'Fear not, Jon, I am not a cruel Lord like those of your land; many months now lay between us and our meeting with Gil-Galad, so your span to beautify my realm is long indeed. Nevertheless, I shall relieve you of your burden, for you have learned the lesson I sought to teach wit rather than might, you have proven my faith in you tenfold now, and I shall be honoured as befits your station.'
'Thank you, my King,' Jon wearily pleased he would not be troubled so greatly during their time here, while Rhaella and Galadriel were thankful that Elendil recognised their loves merit.
'You have become a great and wise ruler during these many long years, my friend, less you seem of Westerosi blood and more akin to the Lords of the Andúnië,' Elendil said, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder.
'Your honours are… splendid, my King; I am honoured by your faith in me,' Jon said warily, though he saw that his Lady Loves were amused as they knew he seldom wished for such praise.
'Even your manner of dress is different, ha; you seem more kingly than even my Father when he was Lord of Andúnië. I daresay the Lady Írimë takes good care of you,' Elendil said, admiring the splendid doublet Jon wore.
'I thank you kindly, Elendil though it was wearying work to convince my Nin Mel to garb himself as befitted his nobility,' Írimë said happily though it was laced with vexation.
'Even so, my Lady, I must confess that Jon's garments are marvellous… even grander than mine,' Elendil said, amused to see his former knight so flustered by his praise.
'Although I would like to accept your praises, King Elendil, I am afraid that I cannot accept them this time, as the tunic that my Nin Mel wears is not one of my creations….' Írimë said sourly.
'Wasn't it you who wove it, my Lady?...' Elendil asked, perplexed until Sansa stepped forward.
'It was I, King Elendil,' Sansa said nervously, bowing to the surprised King, who eyed her in astonishment. He knew she was a maiden of superlative skill; of course, having eyes and ears throughout the City, he learned of the tapestry and embroidery trade that Jon's cousin had had in Annúminas before leaving for the South with her younger sister and cousin, but he never believed that the young Maiden could rival an Elf in skill.
'This is a welcome surprise, young lady; I've always known you had a great talent for embroidery and knitting, but... You've left me speechless; maybe you should knit something for me...' Elendil said, laying a small kiss upon her knuckle.
'I... It will be an honour, my King...' Sansa said nervously, her countenance swiftly reddening, and the halls rang with laughter though not all was well.
'Even when Sansa blushes, she's lovely, Arya thought vexedly; even though she now dresses like a Lady, her sister is still the most coveted of the two and all because of those vast aurochs udders she calls bosoms.
'Well, mayhaps it's time you retire to your rooms, your journey was long, and I'd wager you wish to rest in a proper bed... you shall find all your belongings have been taken to your chambers. However, I ordered that Lady Írimë's things be left in Jon's chambers are they are wed,' Elendil said, pleased to see his knight look contrite while Lady Írimë beamed in joy though he glimpsed the look of displeasure bore by Galadriel, yet he gave it no thought.
'Thank you, King Elendil,' Írimë said revelling in the vexation of her niece and Arianne as none could refute her right to share a chamber with her beloved.
'Don't be so pleased, aunt… I'm going to give my robe to our beloved wolf,' Galadriel said vainly as Írimë's smile disappeared.
'I see that you are still insolent, Artanis, but remember that we are no longer in our beloved's realm, you must be mindful', Írimë muttered vexedly.
'I know well... yet our time with our wolf grows short, and I wish to make the most of the time we have.' Galadriel replied,
After resolving not to spoil the reunion of their beloved, Galadriel and Arianne separated from their wolf and were at once welcomed by the Ladies of Arnor, while Sansa and Ashara were greeted by their old friends and, in Sansa's case, her former patrons who were eager to hear of the new weaving techniques she had acquired.
As Jon saw his family chatting happily with the Nobles of Arnor, he felt a hand upon his shoulder and turned, greeted by the sight of Robar.
'Jon...' The Rune Lord said, his eyes sparkling in mirth.
'Hello, my brother,' Jon said, embracing his brother in a fierce hug.
'You haven't changed a bit... You still have problems with the Ladies,' Robar said, chortling.
'I have no doubt that you know my plight better than most,' Jon said, embracing Andreth as if she were his sister.
'Prince Jon, I hope you and your family have had a pleasant journey,' she said, looping her arm around Robar's.
'So it was my Lady, although it was very nice, I hope you are well; you will be pleased to know that your father is in perfect vigour and is perfectly safe….' Jon said, glimpsing the joy of Andreth.
'Praise be to the Valar for their mercy… I hope that the time to mourn my father's departure is many years hence' Lady Andreth said.
'May the Elder King hear your prayer, my Lady,' Jon said with a nod.
'I see that you have done very well… King Elendil speaks truly; you seem akin to a Lord of Vanyar,' Robar said, nodding.
'Thank you, brother... You have done well... advisor to the King... an honour worthy of your nobility... Lord Robar,' Jon said with mockery, recalling the young boy he had met all those years ago who thought battle a game.
'Fuck you, Jon!' Was Robar's reply, yet his wife would have none of it and struck her husband several times, much to the young Targaryen's amusement.
Though Robar would have his due turning to a passing servant. 'Boy, make certain all of Lady Írimë's possessions are taken to my Lord Princes' chambers.'
Of course, his loves heard Robar's words, and though Írimë smiled joyfully, he could perceive the anger of his lady loves.
'Damn you, Robar… Jon thought, looking apprehensively at the anger on the faces of all his loved ones, but Írimë swiftly took his arm in hers and looked at him with love.
'Come Nin Mel... Let's retire to our chambers... You know I wish the servants to arrange my possessions properly,' said the Princess of the Noldor lustfully, eager to spend the day with her beloved and Jon's face reddened as his brother in arms laughed uproariously; even Andreth giggled at his misfortune though she had the courtesy to mask her amusement.
Knowing that he had lost and could not deny Lalwen anything, Jon embraced his love, revelling in her sweet scent.
'As you wish, my Ray of the Sun... Well, it seems we must speak later, Robar,' Jon said vexedly; all the while, his brother smiled at his misfortune. But, as he made to depart with Írimë, he spied Rhaenys glaring at them evilly, he thought to say something, but she swiftly left the hall, no doubt to find the sparring yard.
'Oh, by the Valar, Rhaenys is furious she may not clash with Lalwen, but I daresay she shall have her due as will the others.' Jon thought, noticing the looks of disappointment on the faces of his Lady loves.
Lalwen began to drag him to their shared chambers, no doubt eager to start decorating or perhaps something more pleasurable.
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'So… Further to the right', Lalwen said, ordering the servants to place her silver mirror in the centre of their chambers.
Jon just watched with amusement as Lalwen gave orders to the servants to arrange their things while he enjoyed a feast of ham and Arnorian whiskey.
The Prince of Osgiliath looked over his old chambers, noting that everything was as he left it over fifty years ago, although, to be forthcoming, he never had many possessions, merely his garments and books. But now that he shared his room with Lalwen, and she had claimed the chambers as her own
The first thing she did was order their weapons and armour to be taken to the palace armoury, then having her assortment of jewellery and other fineries brought to their chambers in several large trunks; lastly, she filled their shared wardrobe with all manner of dresses and garments.
His beloved even ordered the servants to adorn the chambers with the heraldries of the House of Finwë, sheets and pillowcases gold coloured with embellishments of roses and flaming suns. Yes, there was no doubt that he was wed, but it was worth it just to see the joy on Lalwen's face as she decorated their new room.
'It seems you and my aunt are enjoying yourself...' A melodious voice approached the entrance, and Jon turned to see his Star strolling into the chamber clad in raiment's of white and silver.
Galadriel's countenance was serene, but he could see the hurt and vexation in her eyes, undoubtedly displeased she couldn't act as his wife.
'Lady Galadriel…' Jon said, standing up as the servants bowed, and Lalwen glanced at her niece irritably.
'Artanis… Leave us alone,' Lalwen said with her hands on her hips, ordering her servants to leave, and they swiftly departed the room.
Once all the servants had left, Jon swiftly barred the door, then embraced Galadriel and kissed her passionately.
'You've no idea how I yearned to do that, my Star….' Jon said, kissing her once more
'Jon, Jon.' Galadriel giggled happily, but her dearest wolf gave her no respite peppering her face and neck with kisses; then, at once, Jon was parted from her when her aunt hurled him across the room, landing in a heap upon the bed Galadriel looked at her aunt and saw she was reddening wholly furious with them then she did something quite unexpected.
Lalwen slapped him hard across the face.
'Lalwen...' Jon groaned in pain.
'You deserve it, Nin Mel... tis our time to be together, not Artanis... She must wait her turn,' Írimë said jealously, all the while glaring at her niece, who returned her anger in equal measure.
'That is not fair, dear aunt. You recall I've had little time to spend with our foolish wolf in these months as his time was taken up by those foolish peasants, and cruelly our kin have become suspicious of our association...' Galadriel growled, though her eyes were ablaze with passion.
'Oh, by the Valar, must you two come to blows!' Jon said, somewhat vexed by their nicknames for him and still stinging from Írimë's blow.
'Oh, Jon, do not fret, for you may be her wolf, but you are my Dragon!' Írimë hurled herself on top of him and kissed him eagerly, hoping to remove all trace of Galadriel's essence from his lips. His Star must have gleaned her aunt's purposes as she swiftly laid down the silver parcel she brought and soon sat behind him, stroking his chest and back, cooing sweet nothings into his ear.
'Foolish girl…' Írimë muttered angrily, but Jon, hesitant to allow fights that would draw attention to their plight, reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out a vial of ember-coloured liquid uncorking it, he lathered his hands in the sweet-smelling substance and began to gently massage Írimë's back and neck.
'Nin... Nin Mel,' Írimë said, blushing and surprised by Jon's pampering as she felt his warm and slightly viscous hands on her skin.
'Peace, my Nin Mel, it's not necessary to quarrel; besides, our beloved Galadriel is right… you mustn't be greedy, my sunflower,' Jon whispered lovingly, all the while peppering Írimë's neck with kisses.
'By the Valar,' Írimë said moaned, surrendering herself to her beloved's deft hands and fiery passion.
Galadriel swiftly reddened this was the chance she had yearned for, for many years…to take her aunt into her bed though she knew not how her aunt would respond to such lustful passion, but perhaps she could provoke her aunt into acting?
The Lady of Belfalas began to kiss Jon's neck while he continued to pamper his aunt Írimë undoing several more knots until her aunt was so contented, she fell back onto the feather bed, nearly asleep.
However, Galadriel had other plans, silencing Jon with another kiss
she lay beside her aunt, enjoying the sweet scent of her perfume, then, mind clouded by lust, leaned over and began kissing Írimë's neck.
'Artanis?' Írimë asked, her mind clouded with pleasure from Jon's massage yet still of sound wit to know who was kissing her.
'Sshh... Don't speak, dearest aunt, let us enjoy this meeting... I've longed to have you at my mercy for years uncounted,' Galadriel said with a purr, kissing Jon fiercely and bidding him continue his ministrations.
Írimë tried to speak but was wholly at the mercy of Jon and her niece.
Seeing that her aunt had no intention of stopping her, Galadriel tenderly kissed her again and again, revelling in the softness of her aunt's body.
'Just as I'd imagined,' Galadriel thought, enjoying the sweetness of her aunt's buxom form.
She swiftly removed her aunt's slippers and caressed her long legs peppering her thighs with kisses; soon, the air was thick with the heady smell of her aunt's arousal.
'Nin Mel… Artanis, ah, no… not this… Ah, stop,' Írimë tried to say, but she didn't have the strength to resist when Jon undid another knot in her neck.
Galadriel lifted her aunt's skirt and was greeted by the sight of Írimë's soaked small clothes, and though she desired to pull them off, she knew Írimë was not ready for such debauchery, so she contented herself with massaging her aunt's ample buttocks.
'Artanis!' Shouted Írimë in embarrassment, wholly surprised by her niece's cheek; she hadn't thought her little Artanis would act so lustfully, much less so with her, alas she could scarcely think, utterly at the mercy of the deft hands of her beloved and kin.
'I crave your touch… Beloved aunt,' Galadriel said lustfully, revelling in Írimë's flushed appearance.
'You, you… And I, we're not supposed to, we can… We share the same blood….' Írimë said, fighting her lust as Jon endeavoured to see her come undone.
'Yes, just like our beloved, with Daenerys and Rhaenys….' Galadriel said.
'But we…' Írimë tried to defend herself from Galadriel's seduction.
'Aunt, did you forget that we both gladly accepted the Valyrian customs to be able to stay by our beloved's side? ... This is one such custom, and I desire to do such with you and Jon... But now is not the time... enjoy your pampering, my dearest aunt; we may speak of this later,' Galadriel said, kissing Írimë on the lips, she then retreated from her aunt and watched as Jon soothed Írimë's weariness.
Jon, for his part, remained silent, not willing to meddle with his Star's actions though it seemed Lalwen eagerly welcomed Galadriel's embrace, alas such a sight had awakened his blood. He yearned to make love to Írimë, yet he couldn't lest he aroused Galadriel's ire, and so he continued his massage until the room was filled with the sound of light snoring his sunflower had fallen asleep.
'Oh, It seems my aunt was quite wearied,' Galadriel giggled happily; this was a perfect chance to spend time with her wolf.
'Aye, my Star, it seems that between us, we exhausted our beloved Lalwen….' Jon said, caressing her smiling face.
At that moment, she remembered her original purpose for coming here, carefully rising from the bed so as to not wake her aunt. Galadriel strolled to the side table where the silvered parcel lay forgotten and retrieved it before re-joining her wolf on the bed.
'Galadriel?' Jon asked, bewildered until he remembered that his beloved had a gift for him.
'Here, my beloved wolf, my gift to you,' Galadriel said, smiling radiantly. He took the parcel in gratitude and at once knew it was the tunic, she had promised him, Jon tore off the twine and revealed a beautiful tunic of silver thread.
The robe was of similar fashion to Írimë's, save it was a marvellous silver thread that seemed to change hues in the light of the flames upon the front of the tunic in the finest of thread was Telperion elder of the twin trees whose branches sprang up from the chest and wove their way down the arms each capped with white blossoms like the cherry, from which a dew of silver light was ever falling.
'It's... It's beautiful, my beloved. I have never seen such fine work... truly none save a King would be fit to wear it...' Jon said, enthralled as Galadriel laughed, blushing at her Wolf's words.
'Many thanks, dear wolf... it took me days beyond count, but it was worth seeing your happiness,' Galadriel said, kissing him once more.
'I shall wish to repay you for such a gift, my Star', Jon said, caressing Galadriel's face while she glanced at him anxiously.
'I can think of a way... Months have passed, my Husband, and you must honour your vows,' said the beautiful elf lustfully, and she swiftly began to disrobe.
But to Galadriel's disappointment, Jon stopped her.
'Although I would like to share the bed with you, my Star, yet it would be rude to rouse Lalwen... though there is much we can do,' Jon said, eyes sparkling in mirth.
'What do you mean, beloved?' She asked, somewhat disappointed.
'Lalwen had ordered a bath be drawn for us… The bath was ready when you arrived, and since our beloved has fallen asleep, perhaps you and I may partake in its soothing waters,' Jon said, bringing her into his warm embrace and kissing her lustfully.
'Oh, my Wild Wolf… how could I resist such an offer?' Galadriel said merrily. Indeed, she found it scandalous to share a bath with her husband while her aunt lay not a few feet away, yet that made it all the sweeter.
The delight of what they were doing, the way Jon loved her, was wholly new to her; Galadriel knew what her kin would think of such a romance. She had defiled all the teachings of her people to be with Jon, but as the years passed, Galadriel found she held no care for such traditions recalling the journey to Dorwinion so long ago she had given herself to Jon in mind, body and soul truly she loved him more than even Celeborn and such love would grow stronger as the years went by.
Jon gently took her by the hand and gave Írimë one last look; he couldn't resist the temptation to kiss her for a few moments wishing she would wake up from her dream... but no, his dearest was sound asleep, and so they left her to her dreams.
He and Galadriel slipped into the bathroom where, to their delight, the water in the tub was still hot.
After entering and securing the door, they quickly shed their garments, all the while kissing and cuddling. Indeed, Jon thought they may never make it into the bath, but Galadriel left his embrace and grabbed several bottles of scented oil, uncorking each with a contented look before pouring them into the tepid water.
After the heady scent had filled the room, they slid into the tub. Galadriel moaned in satisfaction as the water was the proper temperature; she lay her head on her husband's chest while he curled her golden tresses around his strong fingers eventually, his hands dipped beneath the water, slipping two fingers into her womanhood.
'Jon…' Galadriel groaned in satisfaction.
'Don't worry, my Star… all will be well, now we'd best enjoy our time together. We still have a reception to attend,' Jon said, palming at her bosom.
Galadriel gazed at her husband and kissed him fiercely; soon, the chamber was filled with the sounds of sloshing water and passionate lovemaking.
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A few hours later, Írimë awoke from her slumber to find the room empty rather odd it was then she heard splashing from the privy; perhaps her beloved was taking a bath. Rising to her feet, Írimë opened the door and was greeted by the sight of her beloved rutting Arantis like an animal in heat.
'Oh, by the Valar, my dragon, could you not help yourself this was supposed to be our time together?' Írimë groaned in vexation.
Naturally, the sound of her displeasure caused them to cease their lovemaking; her niece looked delighted, while her dragon seemed ashamed.
'I'm sorry, Lalwen, we hadn't wished to wake you, and the bath would've gone to waste otherwise,' Jon replied. 'Though I promise I shall make it up to you.'
Írimë glowered at him. 'Oh, and how shall you do that, my dragon?'
It all seemed to happen in a flash. Jon was upon her like a coiling serpent; at once, he scooped her up into his arms, throwing open the door to their shared chambers, he tossed her onto the bed and swiftly ripped her dress open and began to lavish attention on her body from her bosom to maidenhood at last Jon did away with her small clothes and hilted himself in her. Írimë turned and saw Galadriel standing in the doorway of the privy, utterly bare, watching as she and Jon made love.
After many hours she and Jon had sated themselves lying abed cuddling. He turned to kiss her once more, and Írimë saw A pale smile, like a gleam of cold sun on a winter's evening, passed over her dragon's face.
'So my sunflower, am I forgiven?' said Jon.
'Yes, my dragon, you are forgiven though perhaps you shall reaffirm our love later,' She moaned gleefully.
Galadriel said nothing too enraptured by what she had witnessed, but as she made to leave, there was a banging at the door. She paled and thought they would be caught, but Jon was mindful, hurrying to his feet, he bounded over to the wardrobe and opened the door.
'My star hide here quickly', Jon whispered.
Galadriel nodded and swiftly strolled into the wardrobe, mindful not to ruffle her aunt's gowns when at last she was concealed. Jon closed the door.
Jon strolled to the door while Írimë swiftly pulled the covers over herself; upon unlatching the lock, he was greeted by an immensely fat and heavy servant whose face resembled a cured ham.
'My Lord, I've been sent to inform you the celebration shall be taking place within the hour,' he said.
'Aye, thank you, tell King Elendil we shall be there.' Jon said.
The servant bowed and departed, no doubt to rouse the others or perhaps see to the planning of their celebration.
At last, the hour of the party came, and he departed his chambers with Írimë on his arm; they were both garbed in raiment fit for King's, wearing the tunic Galadriel had made for him as well as the Ring of Finwë, in addition, he wore the Ulmondil on his brow and upon his breast shone the Elessar, he had thought to leave behind his sceptre but Galadriel and Írimë cautioned against it. He cared not to use the sceptre save for his duties as Prince, yet they would be consorting with the nobility of Arnor, and to not show his authority may be deemed foolish.
Lalwen and Galadriel wore fetching dresses set with many gems Írimë had chosen emeralds, while his Star chose diamonds, indeed he noticed the dresses were much the same save for Írimë's was gold and Galadriel's was of silver; in addition, Galadriel wore the crown of silver he had fashioned for her, while Lalwen wore her necklace of Maltagil her favoured piece.
Once their attire was picked, Jon acted as their escort to King Elendil's reception and, anticipating that perhaps his cousin Sansa would ask him for a song, ordered some servants to take his harp to the King's Hall.
'A wise decision Nin Mel… And one that makes me happy… It's been far too long since I've heard you sing…' Lalwen said happily, stroking his curls.
'It's true, Jon... I hope to hear a song and dance with you if the opportunity arises,' Galadriel said, kissing him fervently.
Írimë groaned at the love shared between them, she may have forgiven Jon and Artanis for letting her sleep while they made love, but she wouldn't soon forget it, especially as her own niece endeavoured to seduce her and peppered her skin with love bites.
'Come on, Nin Mel.' Írimë said, attempting to master her lust though her niece was not so restrained, kissing Jon once more before entering the feasting hall; fortunately, none saw though she still glowered at her niece, who merely smiled in contentment.
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What they thought to be a celebration welcoming them was a gathering of the mightiest nobles in Arnor, there was food, drink, and some music to liven the mood, but Jon knew it wasn't a celebration the mood was grim.
In fact, the only adornments were the banners of the mightiest families of the realm, the House of the King, the Houses of Finwë and Finarfin, and the House of Targaryen. Even King Elendil, who was conversing with his son Isildur and Rhaella, could do little to conceal his boredom.
In the middle of that dull celebration were Jon's family and loved ones, who were growing increasingly vexed awaiting his arrival, yet that vexation bloomed into happiness. Then wonder when the doors of the hall were opened and in came Jon accompanied by the Ladies Galadriel and Írimë; Jon looked a vision of splendour clad in robe of glimmering silver whose light danced with the flames of the torches; upon his brow was the Ulmondil shining as the stars on the ocean and pinned to his breast the Elessar shining as the sun through the leaves of spring.
Their dearest Jon had seemed a Lord of the Vanyar when clad in the golden robe of Írimë. Yet now he glimmered as the moon, seeming a proud Lord of the Noldor, and at once, they knew who granted him such a gift.
Galadriel was to his left while Írimë was on his right alas, seeing Jon arrive in such a fashion, many Arnorians gossiped about Jon's marriage to Írimë and the relationship that Jon had with Galadriel, believing that the Lady of the Light must have a splendid friendship with their Prince if she allowed him to escort her.
The Westerosi Ladies merely glowered angrily at the foolish gossip of these fools.
'If they only knew the true relationship that both Princesses of the Noldor had with Jon' They all thought resentfully though they knew Jon must attend with Írimë; it did little to assuage their bitterness.
Although their bitterness turned to joy when they spied a servant carrying Jon's gilded harp, it seemed their beloved fool hoped to sing and liven the mood which was sorely needed; truthfully, you'd find more cheer in a graveyard.
Upon entering the hall, Jon spied Elendil consorting with his grandmother and Rhaella. He swiftly made his way towards them and, upon meeting his King's gaze, laid the Sceptre of Osgiliath at his feet and bowed low in homage to his Lord.
'My loyalty is yours, my King...' Jon said proudly, and Elendil, nodding, took the sceptre and bid him stand before returning it in thanks.
'Welcome, Jon… My Ladies Valinor,' King Elendil said regarding Galadriel and Írimë, who likewise returned the gesture.
'King Elendil... Prince Isildur,' Írimë said in a melodious tone while the prince nodded silently.
'The hospitality of my realm is yours until we depart for war,' Elendil said grimly.
'We are gladdened for such courtesy even in these dark days,' Galadriel answered happily.
'Prince Isildur... Grandmother...' Jon said, greeting the heir of Elendil and placing a chaste kiss upon his grandmother's hand, delighted to see that she was wearing the rings he had forged for her and a rather daring bronze-coloured dress.
'Jon...' Rhaella said cheerfully.
'Well met, Jon…' Isildur said.
'Jon! 'Sansa and Arya shouted before embracing him, no doubt hoping to garner his attention for the night.
Jon smiled and returned their embrace though upon seeing their dresses, he was astonished.
Sansa wore a dress of black silk, revealing much of her buxom figure; her fiery red tresses hung loosely about her shoulders. She had no ornament save the sapphire earrings he had made for her; doubtless, his fiery cousin would arouse the desires of many a man tonight.
For her part, Arya wore a dress of deepest blue that seemed to shimmer as the crashing waves; her long brown tresses were neatly combed and pulled back in an elegant braid, though unlike Sansa she bore no jewellery.
It seemed Arya wished to act a Lady yet keep some of her wildness about her.
As for the others, it seems they had done a great many things to please him, though he could say little with Lalwen and Galadriel on either side of him as two guardians.
Arianne wore a dress of shimmering greenish silk, and golden bangles resembling snakes around her wrist.
Rhaenys was much akin to Sansa, though her gown was split to allow for a view of her bronzed legs; she wore no ornament save golden earrings and a bracelet of gold set with onyx.
Daenerys looked splendid too in a dress of crimson that revealed little yet bore much; she was crowned by a glittering Tiara, no doubt one he had given her.
Finally, Ashara and Shiera were the boldest, clad in raiment's of violet and silvery-white; Ashara wore the many amethyst gems he had given her while Shiera bore much jewellery of emeralds and sapphire.
'Hello...' Jon said, feeling quite bold, much to their joy; it appears their plot to keep Jon away from those foolish Elves may work though their work may be undone if his cousins were content to keep him to themselves.
'Sansa... Arya,' Jon said with a sigh.
'I'm glad you brought your harp Jon; oh, please sing,' Sansa sweetly cooed, while Arya glowered for being ignored.
'Soon, Sansa, but you must wait. I wish to speak to our King...' Jon said reproachfully, and his cousin swiftly reddened so greatly he almost mistook her for a drunkard, no doubt to Arya's satisfaction.
'Of course, My apologies, my King,' Sansa said, apologising to Elendil, but the King just laughed.
'Don't fret, my girl. I merely wish to take counsel with your cousin, then perhaps he shall liven the mood.' Elendil said gloomily as Jon eyed him curiously.
'What do you need from me, my King?' Jon asked.
'Well, Jon, firstly, I would offer my praise to your seamstress; your robe is quite resplendent,' Elendil said while Galadriel beamed gaily.
'Don't worry, my King, I'll deliver your praises to the weaver', Jon said, amused at the expense of his Star feeling that all the others shared to Galadriel's embarrassment.
'Aye, though my eyes are drawn to that curious ring you carry; it's wrought of Maltagil… correct?' Elendil said, though his eyes grew dark upon recognising the heraldry of Finarfin.
Jon and his companions looked at their King fearfully, for they had not seen him in this mood before. He seemed to have grown in stature; he was now cold and perilous, a wrathful storm that would sweep aside all in its anger.
Yet, before the High King could utter his fury, he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked to see his eldest son pleading with him.
For a few moments, Elendil remained silent, glancing at Jon then to the two Princesses.
'We'll speak of this later, Jon… this I vow,' Elendil growled, and Jon could do little save nod in agreement.
It was then each uttered a groan of relief, and Isildur thought it best to draw attention from his friends' plight.
'Jon… I've spoken to my father regarding the marvels you forge during your time in Osgiliath, and I'd hoped you could do much the same in the time we here,' Isildur said though his countenance was one of gloominess nonetheless, Jon nodded happily, eager to change the subject.
'Yes, Prince Isildur, it shall take perhaps a month or two, but I shall gird the men for war,' Jon said, confident he could make use of his time here.
'Good, so you shall work in the forge. I've needed a new sword,' Loras growled enviously, recalling the beauty of Isildur's blade and wrothful that his brother wouldn't forge such things for him.
'Yes, that's a good idea, Jon. We are heading off to war; it's best to be properly armed,' Robar said while his lady wife giggled at her husband's poorly concealed desire.
'If you hadn't abandoned your lessons, you could forge something for yourselves', Jon replied, causing everyone's laughter, including the King's that had softened by the absurd discussion of his knights.
'That's not noteworthy, Jon...' Loras said, embarrassed.
'Yes, it's not right we should come as beggars….' Robar said, vexed that his brother would remind all of their failures.
'Well, in that case, we better enjoy the… Well, party… Jon, sing by the Valar, sing, this place is unhappy,' Elendil said suddenly regretfully, noticing the depressing air of their reception, and Jon nodded.
'As my King orders,' Jon said to the joy of his Ladies, and Galadriel took the opportunity to remind him of their last deal.
'Do not forget our deal, my beloved Wolf; once you liven this evening, your first and last dance will belong to me!' Galadriel said proudly, and Jon was surprised that his Star still desired to spend the evening with him despite Elendil's misgivings.
'Galadriel, do you truly want to dance with me despite the King's anger?' Jon asked in shock.
'Of course, my Wolf, do you believe something so trivial shall stop me? You wound me,' Galadriel said with false hurt in her manner.
In another time, Jon may have laughed at the troubles they faced, but not now, not with the King's eyes on them. Although Galadriel did not seem to care and his beloved Star was far wiser than himself, perhaps he should follow her lead.
'Ah, in the end, you think sensibly, my beloved fool… Don't worry about Elendil or my people. I don't fear them, and no one will deny me what is mine… to you, my beloved fool, I know that you are an honourable man… So go and sing, liven up this evening; I will wait for you but don't make me wait too long,' Galadriel said sinisterly, and Jon knew a threat when he heard it.
'Damn...' Jon growled, resigned that he always ends up giving in to the whims of Galadriel; truly, all of his loves held sway over him in some manner or fashion, and Jon recalled his first meeting with Galadriel those many years ago.
He had been but a child then, and she seemed to him akin to a Goddess, majestic, beautiful, powerful, magical, ethereal and knew beyond mortal comprehension.
And now there is no doubt that his beloved Galadriel retained the virtues that marked her as one of the Wise, but now she was also much more rebellious, mischievous, covetous, possessive, inquisitive and above all... Galadriel could be childish.
'Oh, my Wolf, I love that you think of me that way; yes, thanks to our marriage, I have changed greatly though it was long before we were wed truly, it was shortly after we met that I felt reborn and my love for Celeborn wilted that night on the beaches of Edhellond was the day my heart was your though I was too scared to admit it but no longer.' Galadriel said, her eyes alight with joy as she recalled their history.
'Galadriel?' He croaked passionately, touched his beloved held such memories with care.
'I have changed for the better, my beloved wolf. Now it is not my intention to disrespect Elendil and the one who organised this party but before we all faint from tedium, for the Valar, I ask the same as Elendil, liven this little party with your voice… And prepare yourself to dance as if the Twin Trees have bloomed again.' Galadriel responded in a fashion that brooked no argument. Jon smiled before calling for his harp, and soon the hall was filled with beautiful music.
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Westeros 'The Wall'
The Wall, the mighty barrier of ice stretching across the northern border of the Seven Kingdoms, separating it from the wild lands beyond. One of Lomas Longstrider's nine Wonders Made by Man, the Wall is defended and held by the Sworn Brothers of the Night's Watch, who patrol and guard nineteen castles from the Frostfangs mountain range in the west to the Bay of Seals in the east. Only the Shadow Tower, Castle Black, and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.
Alas, the days of the Walls' glory have long since ended, for the Black brothers have ever been in decline, and now many of the fortresses of old lay in ruins.
In the main stronghold of the Watch, Castle Black, Maester Aemon Targaryen, was taking council with Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, First Ranger Benjen Stark, First Builder Othell Yarwyck and Lord Butler Bowen Marsh.
With Aemon was Samwell Tarly, the former Heir of 'Horn Hill' whom his father had despised and rejected as heir, threatening to kill him if he did not join the Watchers on the Wall; certainly, Aemon disapproved of Randyl Tarly's cruelty, but he could not blame him for thinking that Sam would not be a suitable heir, the boy was a coward, educated, intelligent but an utter coward.
Since Sam's arrival, Ser Alliser Thorne, the weapons master, dubbed him Ser Piggy and did nothing to stop the other recruits from ridiculing Sam and harming him during their training. Fortunately, Benjen Stark, who had recently returned from a ranging, saw the boy being bullied and, feeling pity for the boy, suggested that he take him on as a servant.
At first, Aemon thought it would be good to be assigned a job at the kennels, but then he considered it thinking that Chett might plot revenge against Sam, so Aemon decided to send him to The Shadow Tower.
The old Master was already weary and wished to sleep; the last few years had been tumultuous, to say the least. The War of the Five Kings that began with the death of Robert Baratheon and left the Kingdom wounded, divided, devastated and in debt for another five generations, largely due to that miserable Kinslaying oafs penchant for pissing away gold as his family hatched dragons.
However, after two years of relentless chaos, the war ended when a member of his family who was thought long dead rose from exile and conquered the already weakened Kingdoms with fire and sorcery.
Putting aside the disbelief that a scion of his House could still be alive; Aemon didn't know what to believe regarding the rumours of Rhaegar's eldest son being a sorcerer... Although he proved to be a clever King, well, cleverer than his predecessors.
He had sent all the males of House Frey, servants of the Boltons, the Karstarks, and Ser Rolph Spicer who in one way or another participated in the Red Wedding to serve at the Wall, vastly increasing their numbers to Mormont's delight... Though not So much for Benjen Stark, who looked ready to slaughter the fools any time they had passed.
Another recruit was Theon Greyjoy, sent by Lady Catelyn Stark and The Blackfish to spend the rest of his life at the Wall... Clearly, the boy was hated in the North for all he had done; they were not going to give him a quick death, and Benjen made certain the boy suffered having him sleep in horse shit and clean the kennels with his hands.
But back to the topic of magic…
For centuries it was thought that the days of magic and sorcery were over in the world, although the appearance of Melisandre of Asshai made him rethink many things; indeed, Aemon was happy that a Targaryen sat upon the Iron Throne though there were troublesome rumours regarding Aegon's use of magic.
The Red Woman had come convinced that Stannis Baratheon was the prophesied warrior who would face a great darkness that would haunt the Kingdom in times to come, even using her magics to trick those who followed her master into thinking his blade was Lightbringer. He was not fooled despite his blindness; the sword did not emanate warmth and was contained by a simple leather scabbard… It was only Melisandre's sorcery, not the true legendary sword.
It was then Aemon began to remember his correspondence with Rhaegar all those years ago… A comet was seen over King's Landing the night Aegon was born, leading Rhaegar to believe that Aegon was the Prince That Was Promised. The comet was seen by Rhaegar as the bleeding star of the prophecy... Although Aemon wasn't too convinced though after Aegon's apparent resurrection. Aemon began to wonder if the gods had plans for the new Targaryen King.
As for Melisandre of Asshai, since the death of Stannis, she has not left the North, although she claims to have lost the power and the lure of seeing in the flames, spending time Beyond the Wall; when questioned, she merely said the Lands of Winter was sufficed with old magics wholly unknown to her and wished to study them.
Lord Commander Mormont and many of his officers were sceptical of the woman's claims, but she had earned their trust using whatever magics she possessed to aid the Watch, so at last, they had relented, and The Red Woman had journeyed Beyond the Wall several times.
However, the powers of Melisandre of Asshai were not the only glimpses of magic that the members of the Night's Watch witnessed.
Benjen's nephew, Brandon Stark, had returned from a journey Beyond the Wall accompanied by two children and a simple-minded man; the young man had returned declaring that Brynden Rivers, the former Lord Commander nearly a century past, was alive.
According to the story of the young Stark, Lord Blood Raven was found by the last Children of the Forest, who instructed him in the magic of the Skinchangers and divination, lengthening his life through ancient sorceries.
'If that was immortality, then the Gods draw amusement from cursing my family,' Aemon thought while listening to the story of the Stark boy, but that was not all; before departing for the next great journey, Lord Brynden had heralded that a great darkness lurked in Westeros. Still, neither he nor his apprentice could discover the Bloodravens meaning, only that aid would come for the West.
Aemon did not know what to think; he was an old man who had lived a long life, too long if one would ask him, yet by virtue of their vows, they could not act in favour of Westeros, a foolish waste.
This brings him to the Watch's true problem, The wildlings led by Mance Rayder.
The former ranger of the Shadow Tower who had betrayed his vows made peace among the various Wildling tribes gathering a great army some hundred thousand strong. An impressive achievement indeed if it weren't for the fact that he tried to use them as a spear against the Wall... Although the arrival of Stannis Baratheon and his red woman has saved the Night's Watch from destruction, the attack on Castle Black was swift and brutal, yet Benjen and Jeor had become the anvil upon which Stannis had broken the back of the Wildling host.
After the battle, Mance was interrogated before his execution and divulged the reasons he had for deserting the Watch though none among them blamed him, Mance revealed he hadn't desired to attack the Wall, but he was forced to escape the evil that had arisen in the North.
Many knew of what Mance spoke but dared not believe it, yet the Old Ranger was allowed to continue his tale; at the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion, mysterious deaths began to occur among the Wildlings; they disappeared and then returned as starry-eyed ghouls that could withstand the most horrid wounds save fire, They knew the Others had returned.
According to Mance, they defied the Others for as long as they could, bringing them to battle on many occasions; alas though the Wildlings were a spirited people, even they could not defy the Great Other.
Mance then spoke of his host fleeing towards the Wall, yet the Others barred their path with mighty Blizzards; this caused some rumourmonger among the men to wonder how such a large gathering of Wildlings could escape the Wights it was then of the eve of night when the Others began their approach it was then they heard what sounded like a horn but unlike any horn ever heard by mortal men akin to the sheer lightning cleaving the clouds. And then a tremendous booming laugh scattering cloud and darkness before it, the Wildlings knew not what happened, fleeing as swiftly as they were able, but those furthest from the front swore they two men one plate clad, the other ruddy and golden-haired charging towards the horde.
After that day, there was no trace of the Others save the great funeral pyres of the wights. But the people of Mance Rayder did not stop being afraid. The Others had been destroyed by someone else, that was clear, but who? They had no answer; they just wanted to save their lives and those of their families, so they tried to unite against the Night's Watch and escape South of the Wall, hoping to use the Wall to defend themselves against those who destroyed the Others.
Although somewhat reluctant, Mance ended up accepting and for this, he began to gather wild forces around him to recover the Horn of Winter as legend had it that it could bring down the entire Wall with a single breath. While most of the Wildlings thought that the Horn was just a myth, Mance believed that it was real and that he could find it deep in the frozen mountains of Frostfangs though his efforts were ultimately in vain as they found nothing but the vast horn of an ancient giant King that was later destroyed in the battle at the Wall.
Upon finishing his tale, Mance waited for his sentence in silence; First, however, he begged that his wife and son be forgiven and accepted in the Seven Kingdoms; in the end, the Lord Commander relented, yet Stannis Baratheon ordered that Mance suffer the horrible fate of being burned alive; Aemon was livid and nearly shouted down his kin yet he was an old man, and there was little strength in him, so Mance was consigned to the flames.
Once the problem of the Wildlings was concluded, a remarkable truce was reached that benefited all; the wives and children of chiefest Wildlings would go to Winterfell to work in servitude and as hostages, among whom were Mance's wife and son. as well as Val, his good sister.
Val, who everyone called the Wild Princess… a beautiful young woman from what he heard, and a lovely girl is in great danger on the Wall, it was best if she went with her sister, a vicious girl named Ygritte. She was reckless and stubborn in less than a day, she tried to fight with Benjen Stark, accusing him of slaughtering her kin, but he did not kill her, merely battering her in the training yard, it was rather amusing to see Benjen become so lively, especially after all the tragedies he suffered.
As for the men, the young and strong were sent to work the land, a task that Aemon knows they are enjoying. And lastly, the cruellest among the Wildlings, like Varamyr Six Skins, Harma and Gerrick Kingsblood, were kept as prisoners to ensure the loyalty of the lesser clans.
Yes, it seemed that things were slowly getting better at the Wall. Still, Aemon couldn't forget Bran Stark's words that darkness would haunt Westeros with that mysterious flaming eye.
The worst was yet to come… And they must be ready.
Notes:
Thanks to great_red
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone