24: In Search of a Lost Prince

They made it through the mountains with little trouble. Some of the going was slow because the path was still clogged with snow, but they worked their way along at a steady pace. Wídfara was confident that they would reach the other side before darkness descended upon them.

"That is well," Aragorn said. "I do not wish to be here overnight if at all possible."

Wídfara and Grimbold both fervently agreed and as it was they did come out of the mountains and into the dale where Aldburg lay with an hour of daylight to spare. Aragorn decided, however, not to approach the city just then.

"We’ll move further up the valley where we can light a fire without being seen," he told them. "Tomorrow will be soon enough to approach Aldburg. I am uneasy in my mind and would prefer to know what the situation is before coming before the gates of the city."

"What do you intend... brother?" Wídfara still found it hard to think of Earntungol as such but Aragorn had insisted and indeed had encouraged him to call him that and whenever Aragorn called him ‘brother’ Wídfara felt great affection for the Dúnadan.

"I think it best if I scout the area first," Aragorn said as they made their way back along the defile until they were out of sight of the plain. "All this time, there has been no word from Thengel King. I cannot believe that he is unaware of what has happened. I can only conclude that something prevents him from acting."

"Something... or someone," Grimbold said darkly and Aragorn nodded in agreement.

They found a suitable place beside a small rill and quickly set up camp, the warmth of the fire welcome after their cold ride. The light faded into night and the stars blazed brilliantly across the heavens. Aragorn saw that Eärendil rode the evening sky and felt somewhat comforted by the sight of his ancestor’s ship sailing serenely above him. Somehow, it made all the uncertainties of life seem... petty, was the only word he could think of. Whatever troubles might assail him in this world, he knew that there were places where evil could not go and that thought gave him much hope when all else seemed hopeless.

They ate in silence, each thinking of what might lie ahead, each wondering about the fate of a king... and a small boy. After eating, they set the watches. Aragorn took the first watch while Wídfara settled himself down to sleep. He was still recovering from his illness and so sleep came readily to him, exhausted as he was. Grimbold stayed up for a little while longer as he would be taking the last watch. He and Aragorn spoke softly for a while, but within an hour, Aragorn was left to stand watch alone. He lit his pipe and settled by the fire, thinking. By the time he woke Wídfara for his watch he still hadn’t come to any real conclusions.

****

Dawn saw them all awake. Aragorn had decided that he would scout the area alone, leaving the other two men with the horses. "One man alone is less noticeable than two," he said with a shake of his head when Grimbold volunteered to accompany him.

Both Grimbold and Wídfara had to agree to that, however reluctantly, and so while the shadows were still deep in the valley, Aragorn made his way towards Aldburg, taking what cover he could to avoid being seen by the sentries on the wall. As he got closer to the city he saw that the king’s standard flew from the rooftop of the main hall. That was heartening, yet troubling at the same time. He made his way across the plain, working his way north and west where the shadows still lingered. He was somewhat surprised that there weren’t sentries on the wall and could not fathom why that would be so. However, all thoughts of such matters flew out of his head as he made his way closer to the city and saw a small army camped outside its gate.

That gave him pause and he crouched down to keep himself hidden in the tall grass as he looked towards the tents, noting the sentries on duty and trying to discern the meaning of the banner that flew from the largest tent in the encampment. It was definitely not the king’s banner, but the sigil of a starburst on a black field was unfamiliar to him.

It was not a large encampment and the longer he stared at the figures moving about the more convinced he was that this was not a true army with tight discipline. The sentries that he could see were lax in their duties, preferring to spend their time talking to one another, or even sleeping. Their armor seemed somewhat haphazardly put together and one or two of them did not even carry swords, but had short pikes that, to Aragorn’s practiced eye, looked more ceremonial than dangerous.

Yet, there they were, encamped before the gates of Aldburg with the king supposedly inside. He did not know how large a troop Thengel had taken with him into the Eastfold, but he suspected it was not so large as to risk lifting the siege. Aragorn lay in the grass, trying to decide what he should do. The day was advancing and he needed to find a better hiding place. It would not do to be caught out here. He inched his way backward by slow degrees, stopping every once in a while when he thought one of the more alert sentries was looking his way. Eventually, he found himself surrounded by a copse of firs and oaks. He made his way back up the valley, using the woods for cover as much as possible. It was slow going but it also gave him time to formulate his plans.

Thus, it was nearly noon before he reached their own camp where Wídfara and Grimbold had awaited his return with impatience. The older man had gone hunting and had found a brace of conies which Wídfara had made into a stew. Aragorn thankfully accepted a bowl. As they sat together eating Aragorn told them what he had seen and what he was planning to do.

"I think I must first infiltrate the encampment and discover who is behind all this. Perhaps Théoden is there if the king’s enemies have taken him. He would make a good hostage."

Grimbold grimaced at that. "And if he isn't there?"

Aragorn shrugged. "Then we must hope that he is inside Aldburg with his father. At any rate, I mean to rescue the lad if I can."

"Then what?" Wídfara asked. "Do we return to Dunharrow or try to get into the city and find the king?"

Aragorn hesitated before answering, knowing that the younger man would not take his suggestion well. "I was thinking to have you take Théoden back to Dunharrow while Grimbold and I..."

Wídfara stood up in hurt surprise. "No! Do not ask this of me, I beg you. I will not willingly leave your side, sweordbroðor."

Aragorn sighed and gave Grimbold a wry glance, which the older man returned. "Sit down, lad," Grimbold said, not unkindly, but the tenor of his voice brooked no denial and Wídfara sat, now looking somewhat chagrined at his outburst.

Aragorn decided on a different tack. "If, and I stress if, we do find Théoden, I do not want him where he can be taken again easily. There is no defense out here and he will be safer with his mother in Dunharrow than here with us. At the same time we need to find Thengel King. Someone has to take Théoden to safety."

"Why me?" Wídfara asked.

Aragorn glanced at Grimbold again. The older man gave him a slight nod. The Dúnadan returned his attention to the younger Rider. "Théoden is going to be very frightened, even if he does not show it." He smiled thinly and the other two men nodded. Wídfara even smiled a bit. "You are closer to his age than either Grimbold or myself. He is more likely to trust you than Grimbold, especially if he knows that you are my gwador."

Wídfara gave him a confused look. "It means sworn-brother in Sindarin. It is equivalent to sweordbroðor, but has deeper meanings than that. Théoden will trust you simply because I name you gwador."

The young Rider had a thoughtful look on his face as he sipped on the stew. Aragorn turned to Grimbold. "What can you tell me about Aldburg? I cannot believe there is only the one gate."

Grimbold scowled. "I have never been there, but I do know that there is indeed only one gate. It is in fact common knowledge. That is why the city is not surrounded. Everyone knows there is only one way in or out of Aldburg."

Aragorn shook his head. "That makes no sense. No walled city of Men or Elves has ever been built without more than one way in and out."

"It is said that Eorl the Young himself declared that if Aldburg were ever to be taken it would have to be through a single entrance and those within would not retreat even if a back way were offered them," Grimbold answered, his expression neutral.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at that. "I see," was all he said, not wishing to say anything disparaging about the founder of the Rohirrim. Eorl the Young was held in greatest esteem by his people and Aragorn respected that, whatever his own opinions about the man might be.

Grimbold gave him a sour grin. "I think it’s stupid too, lad," he said and Aragorn gave him his own thin smile.

Wídfara snickered at that and then they were all quietly laughing. After a few moments though, Aragorn spoke again. "It does not help us to get into the city, though."

"One thing at a time, my friend," Grimbold said. "Let us concentrate first on finding young Théoden or at least being sure that he is not in the hands of those camped before the gates of the city."

Aragorn nodded. "You are correct of course," he replied. "I will attempt to infiltrate the encampment tonight. The guards that I saw were somewhat lax in their duty. I should have no trouble getting in."

"Where will you look?" Wídfara asked.

"The central tent," he answered. "It will be the best place to look. Do any of you recognize the sigil of a starburst on a black field?"

Wídfara shook his head, but Grimbold furrowed his brow in thought. Finally, he spoke. "It sounds familiar but I cannot place it. Perhaps it will come to me."

Aragorn nodded. "I will endeavor to discover to whom that banner belongs while I hunt for the boy." He sighed. "There are too many questions and not enough answers."

Grimbold gave a short laugh. "That’s just the way life is, lad, and sometimes, most of the time, the questions are never answered, leastwise not on this side of the grave."

To that, neither of the other men had a reply, so they continued with their meal and later Aragorn rested, knowing that the night would be fraught with danger and he would need his wits about him.

****

There was only a sliver of moon that night, just enough light by which to see his way down the valley towards the city. Aragorn actually had left the camp at sunset to give him time to find a safe place to wait until the middle watch when he suspected discipline would be even more lax than it already was. He reached the copse of firs and oaks he had hidden in before and settled down to wait. Waiting was something he had learned to do long before joining the Dúnedain, a lesson the Elves had been at pains to teach him, especially his brothers. Thinking of them, he found himself smiling and suddenly wished they were there beside him, guiding him and guarding him as they had when he was younger.

The night deepened and Aragorn allowed himself to sink into a trance-like state that his adar and Glorfindel had taught him, allowing him to be aware of his surroundings yet able to rest both mind and body until action was needed.

The moon rode low in the west and finally the stars turned and the midnight hour approached. Aragorn stirred himself and made his slow way towards the encampment. He had noted earlier where there seemed to be a gap in the sentry posts furthest from the city gate and he made his way there, keeping as much to the shadows as possible, moving slowly and stopping frequently when he detected movement along the perimeter of the camp.

Finally he came to the gap he had detected earlier and discovered it was where the latrines had been dug. He grimaced at the smell but took shallow breaths and made his way past them into the camp proper. He had studied the layout of the camp earlier and knew that from this point the tents were set up in a haphazard manner. He had to tread carefully.

He put his hood up and began to walk purposefully towards the middle of the encampment. No one challenged him, for most of the men were asleep. Most of the camp was dark with only a few torches lit and one or two campfires. Aragorn kept to the shadows. Reaching his destination he paused and looked from the shadows to the lone sentry standing inattentively before the tent’s entrance. He crept towards the unsuspecting guard and quickly subdued him, dragging him into the tent.

It was dark inside and it took several seconds for Aragorn’s eyes to adjust. He laid the now unconscious guard on the ground and looked around. The tent was not overly large, and in fact was not even divided, but was a single room. There was a cot against one wall and Aragorn could make out a small form lying on it. Moving cautiously, he found himself looking down on the sleeping form of young Théoden. The boy was not bound, which Aragorn thought odd, but realized why when he sought to wake him.

Théoden did not respond. It was then that Aragorn spied the small table near the cot with some bottles on it. Picking one up and discovering it was empty he smelled it and grimaced. Poppy juice! And judging from the size of the bottle, lots of it. The boy would be out for hours if not days.

Making a decision, Aragorn bundled the boy up in a blanket and cradled him in his arms, wrapping his cloak around the still figure. Then, checking the entrance to see that there was no one about, he stepped out and made his way as quickly towards the perimeter as he could, eschewing stealth for speed. He was almost at the edge of the camp when a hue and cry sounded from behind. Apparently the guard he had overcome had wakened.

Now he ran, hoping to reach the woods before anyone saw him, but in that his luck ran out. One of the more alert sentries spotted him and gave the alarm. Now he was forced to swerve back into the camp and towards the city gate. He dodged half-wakened men climbing out of their bedrolls and jumped over guideropes and campfires in his haste to leave the camp. He was determined not to be captured. There was only one hope left, thin and fraught with danger, but the only avenue now left open to him.

He ran towards the gate, yelling, "Open! Open in the name of Thengel King! It is I, Earntungol, and I have Théoden æðeling with me. Open or all is lost!"

Such was the force of his commands that the two guards on duty at the city gate hastened to comply and even as Aragorn came to the gate, even as arrows were flying from behind, missing him only by inches, the gate slowly opened just enough for him to squeeze through before it shut inexorably behind him.

He stood there panting, still cradling the drugged child, slowly realizing that archers covered him from above. He did not move save to shrug back his cloak. The guards gasped when they saw the boy in his arms and with a quick word, one of them ran towards the Hall.

"He has been drugged," Aragorn told the remaining guard as the archers relaxed. "I must take him to his father."

"Wait, lord," the guard said. "Thengel King comes even now."

And indeed, such was the case. The king ran down the main street with Erkenbard and Grammund running behind him. "My son, my son," Thengel cried, "show me my son."

Aragorn lifted the boy up and handed him to his father. "He has been heavily sedated with poppy juice, my lord," Aragorn said, "but otherwise appears unharmed."

Thengel nodded, not paying too much attention. His eyes were only on his son and he bent down and kissed the child’s brow, rocking him, as tears flowed from his eyes. Finally, he looked up, and spoke. "Thank you," was all he said but the depth of gratitude in those two words was evident.

Aragorn bowed. "You are most welcome, my lord."

"Come," Erkenbard said, motioning with his hand. "Let us away to the Hall and see to the child’s comfort and you may tell us what has fared with you, Earntungol. When last we heard you were in the Westmark."

The men made their way back up the street to the Hall. Théoden had been rescued, but now he and Aragorn were trapped behind the walls of Aldburg with Thengel King and his men with apparently no way out.