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And special thanks to Cairistiona for the beta.

Chapter 29:  The Palantír

I am the lawful master of the stone, and I had both the right and the strength to use it, or so I judged. The right cannot be doubted. The strength was enough – barely.

The Passing of the Grey Company                                                    The Return of the King

~oo0oo~

   Aragorn collapsed in a heap on the floor of the Hornburg, Andúril falling noisily beside him. As he broke contact with the Stone, the daggers jabbing mercilessly into his head and eyes lessened their agonising assault, but he could scarcely breathe for the searing pain raging through him. He held his hands to his face, shielding his eyes as he instinctively raised his knees protectively in front of him, curling his body into a ball.

   Halbarad immediately was at his side, his face white with terror. In his panic, he grabbed his chieftain and flung his arms around him. He knew not what else to do. Aragorn was shaking violently and gasping for air. He muttered nonsense to himself and seemed not to heed Halbarad at all. Sweat poured down his face and his clothes were drenched.

   “Aragorn! Aragorn!”

   Halbarad was terrified. Frantically, he tried to rouse his kinsman. He pulled Aragorn’s hands away from his face so as to look into his eyes. He stared anxiously into the half open lids for many moments, searching for any sign that Aragorn knew him. Eventually, to his relief, the wild eyes slowly focused upon him.

   “I am all right,” Aragorn managed to croak in a voice barely above a whisper. “But I feel so weak.”

   Halbarad considered for a moment that he had never seen him looking less all right in his entire life.

 “Aragorn, what happened? Tell me, please,” he cried, but all he got from his chieftain was a request for water. Halbarad reached for a skin and, removing the bung with his teeth, guided the lip to Aragorn’s mouth. He gulped thirstily. Once he had drunk his fill, his eyes closed again and Halbarad continued to hold him as he drifted in and out of consciousness.  Gradually Aragorn’s shaking lessened, but now he felt cold to the touch as his sweat began to chill him. Halbarad removed his own cloak and wrapped it around him before taking him back into his arms. He was desperately worried though, for Aragorn’s sake, he did his best to squash his rising panic and remain outwardly calm. He wondered if he should call for the Sons of Elrond, but he doubted anyone would hear him and he had no intention of leaving Aragorn alone even for a moment. Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, Aragorn spoke again.

   “I have no strength left, Halbarad, I must rest,” he said, though he struggled to force out his words out. “But only for a few minutes. Please, promise me, you’ll not let me lie here beyond that. I have much to think upon and choices need to be made before we depart tomorrow.”

   Halbarad nodded though, from Aragorn’s fragile state, he did not think a mere few minutes would be anything like sufficient rest.

   “Very well, my friend,” he said gently though his throat seized with emotion as he spoke. “I will be right here, should you need me.”

   He carefully eased his chieftain down onto the stone floor and pulled his cloak tighter around him. When he was satisfied Aragorn was as comfortable as he could make him, he sat down beside him and leant back, resting his head against the stone wall of the chamber. But he kept his eyes firmly fixed upon Aragorn, carefully watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as his breathing slowly returned to normal.

   He did not even attempt to seek rest himself. He was far too shaken by all that he had witnessed. He could feel his own heart pounding in his chest and sweat had broken on his brow in spite of the chill of the night air up in that high tower. As he sought to calm his own fraught nerves, he struggled to made sense of all that had happened.

    Less than an hour ago, he had dutifully stood, watching, as Aragorn had uncovered the Palantir and, with one hand clasping Andúril to his chest, had laid the other upon the stone. With mounting horror, he had watched helplessly as Aragorn became removed from him, and disappeared into a trance where he seemingly did battle with an unseen foe. His face had twisted and contorted as one suffering unspeakable agony.  Halbarad had screamed at him, calling his name, but Aragorn had been beyond hearing anything. As his torment had increased, Halbarad had been at a complete loss as to what to do. In the end, he had done nothing and now he wonder if perhaps he should have attempted to separate him from that accursed stone. Aragorn had told him earlier he might need him to do just that. But had that been the need of which he spoke? He did not know. Aragorn was dabbling in things outside his reckoning. Eventually he had managed to wrench himself away and break free of whatever it was that had seized him so cruelly. But if any lasting injury had befallen him, Halbarad could not yet tell. Thankfully he seemed peaceful enough at the moment.

   He reached out and gently laid his hand on the quiet form beside him. That was good; he was resting now. Perhaps when he had shaken off some of this crippling fatigue, he would speak more of the strange and dreadful experience he had just endured. Halbarad could not begin to guess what choices had to be made in the morning, but right now he could think of nothing beyond the wellbeing of his chieftain.

   He had to marvel at the bravery of his lord in attempting to do this thing. Challenging the might of Sauron was an act of courage greater than any of the noble deeds he had witnessed from Aragorn over the years. Even without the presence of the evil eye, the prospect of looking into the Palantír alone would be enough to deter most men.  Earlier, as they had climbed the steps to that high chamber, Halbarad had argued forcibly against indulging in such a foolish action. He now rather regretted not having protested more vehemently. But Aragorn had been adamant he knew what he was doing.

   “The Stone is rightfully mine, Hal,” he had said. “Did not all seven of the Palantíri once belong to Elendil; gifts to his father from the Elves of Tol Eressëa? As his heir, this Stone is mine by right. If any has a hope of bending it to his will, then it is I.” But Halbarad had not failed to notice how he hesitated before adding in a quiet voice: “I only hope my strength will prove to be enough.”

   Halbarad had remained unconvinced. He had already heard that one of the hobbits had attempted to look in this thing and had narrowly avoided disaster. “But Aragorn, are you quite sure this is wise?” he had said. “I don’t mean to doubt you, my friend, but it is a huge risk you are taking.”

      “I am not being feckless,” Aragorn had replied, using that tone which always served to remain Halbarad exactly which of them was the chieftain. “Our need is great; such risks I must take.”

   “But you don’t know how to use it?” Halbarad had countered, quite undaunted. “Sauron may not have the right, as such, to use the stone in his possession, but, from what you have discovered about Saruman, it would seem he has been using it for a considerable time. Surely, that will count for much in any battle of wills with him.”

  “It might aid him, yes,” Aragorn had conceded before rather pointedly adding: “but, as you may recall, Halbarad, many years ago, I did once travel to Emyn Beraid with the intent of learning just this skill.”

   Halbarad might have smiled at this example of the meticulous dedication to his preparations that Aragorn had lent to all his efforts during his long years in waiting had it not been that he was so troubled by what Aragorn was proposing to do.

   “And as I recall, you spoke very little about that visit upon your return.” Halbarad had not forgotten that the experience had obviously troubled him. Privately though, he did concede that if anyone could bend the Seeing Stone to his will, it would be his chieftain. He resorted to a different argument.

  “Did you not tell me earlier that even Gandalf cautioned you against using it? And when, in all the years you have known the Wizard, have you ever ignored his council?”

   A flicker of doubt had appeared on Aragorn’s face and Halbarad had felt triumphant, but his success proved short-lived as almost immediately it was replaced by the same steely determination of before.

   “Never have I gone against Gandalf’s advice. I value his wisdom above that of any other, as you well know, but in this I believe I am right and that the Stone has come to me now for just such a purpose.”

   He had suddenly looked rather incredulous.

   “Gandalf bowed to me, Hal, as he presented it, and he called me ‘lord’. Never has he done that before.” But then his face had hardened into a grim smile and there was a deadly cold gleam in his eye that scared even his closest friend. “No, I will heed my own council in this. I do not seek the Dark Lord willingly, but I deem the time has at last come to reveal to him my true nature and so may the sword of Elendil strike fear into his black heart.”

~oo0oo~

       Time passed. How much, Halbarad could not tell; half an hour perhaps, no more. He so wanted to allow Aragorn to rest, but he know he would be less than pleased if he ignored his instruction to not let him lie for long. Halbarad gently rocked what he supposed was Aragorn’s arm through the blanket. Immediately his chieftain was awake. He rolled over onto his back and stared at Halbarad blankly for a moment.

   “I had an awful dream,” he said. “At least I had hoped it was a dream, but, now that I wake, I fear it was not.”

   “What was this dream?” Halbarad wished with his all his heart that what Aragorn had just experienced was truly only that.

   Aragorn did not answer, but pushed himself up onto his elbows. He looked about him, frowning. “The Palantír: where is it?” he asked.

   “Over there,” said Halbarad, pointing to the large sphere across the room covered by Aragorn’s cloak which he had roughly thrown over it to hide the terrible fire within.

   Aragorn sighed and sat up properly, drawing his knees to his chest before burying his head in his hands. He sat there motionless for so long, Halbarad began to worry again. He picked up the waterskin and offered it to him.

   “Drink?”

   Slowly Aragorn pulled his hands from his face and took the skin. Halbarad was shaken by how badly they trembled. While Aragorn drank, he got to his feet and folded back the shutters; the bleak room seemed very gloomy suddenly and dawn must have broken hours ago. Suddenly, in the bright light, he could see Aragorn’s face clearly and he was shocked by what he saw. He looked exhausted, ill even. Overnight he had aged decades. He was as haggard as an old man. His skin was grey and dull and his eyes sunken into their sockets.

   “Aragorn,” he said softly. “What has happened to you, my friend? You look terrible.”

   Aragorn managed a trace of a smile. “I feel terrible,” he said, shakily. “Oh, Hal, that was not like the last time, but still it could have been worse.” And then he did smile. “I did at least survive, though never would I willingly do that again.”

   “I’m relieved to hear it,” said Halbarad forcing a laugh, “but may I ask what precisely it was you saw in that thing?” He was not at all sure he wanted to hear the answer. He was quite convinced he was going to have nightmares about this night as it was.

   “Too much,” said Aragorn as he put down the water skin and covered his face once again. It seemed an age before he removed his hands and continued his tale. “I saw the Dark Lord standing there before me and he was terrible to behold. At first I tried to pull away, but I could not. I could hear his voice in my head though he spoke no words, and the pain; oh, Hal, never have I under rated the Enemy, but the Dark Lord’s evil is boundless. He must not have the victory, he really must not. He would devour and destroy everything that we hold dear.”

   Aragorn’s words were a chilling reminder to Halbarad of all that was at stake, but at that moment, he was far more concerned about what had passed between these two vastly different lords as they had strived for the mastery of the Stone.

   “But did he know who you were?” Halbarad had to know. After a lifetime of keeping his chieftain secret he still could not quite believe Aragorn had acted so rashly.

   “Yes, he knew me,” said Aragorn and that same cold gleam Halbarad had seen earlier appeared in his eyes again. “And I left him in no doubt that I ride to Minas Tirith to challenge him.”

   Halbarad sat for a moment in stunned silence as he absorbed this statement. At last he found his voice. “Just so I fully grasp your meaning,” he said slowly, wanting to be absolutely certain he understood aright though still holding out a hope that he might be mistaken. “He now knows you to be who exactly?”

   “Why Isildur’s Heir, of course.”

   “Of course,” said Halbarad as he struggled to find the right words to fully express his shock and consternation at this turn of events. However the deadly gaze in Aragorn’s eye caused him to refrain from expressing an opinion on his chieftain’s wisdom in revealing this rather important piece of information to the Enemy.

   “No doubt you had your reasons,” was all he actually said, though as Aragorn looked so dreadful he hoped he had not lost his senses.

   But Aragorn smiled at him. “It’s all right Hal, my doing this was not without thought. I have given him reason to be troubled and that may yet prove advantageous to our cause. Mighty he undoubtedly is, but I felt his fear, Hal, I actually felt it. Now he will not hesitate to bring his full strength swiftly to where he deems it will hurt me the most.”

   Halbarad’s shock was rapidly turning to panic. “And you deem this to be a good thing?” He was genuinely concerned about Aragorn’s sanity now.

   “You forget, Hal, what I told you earlier of the Halflings. Even now, Frodo and his servant are slowly making their way towards Mordor with the One Ring of the Enemy which they intend to destroy in the flames of Mount Doom. The Dark Lord knows the Ring has been found and I deem it may not harm our cause for him to believe it is I who now possesses it. He will greatly fear that I may yet attempt to wield its terrible power. It is my hope that in attempting to destroy me, he will be blind to his true peril. He will not expect any to be crossing his land with the intent of destroying his ring. And so may we deceive him.”

   “I see,” said Halbarad, not greatly comforted by any of this reasoning, much less the prospect of becoming a decoy.

   But then the steely gaze left Aragorn’s eye and Halbarad noticed he looked troubled.

   “But we must move swiftly to counter him,” he said. “I saw more than just the face of the Enemy in that Stone. At last I managed to wrest control of it from him, though the battle has left me more weary than I have ever known. But once I had the mastery of it, I used it to my advantage though I confess, what it revealed has greatly disturbed me. I saw in the Stone that a vast fleet of enemy ships is preparing to descend upon Minas Tirith. Even now, the fleet sails for Pelargir and will be the demise of Gondor if it is not stopped.”

   “But if I understand things aright, there are none who could stop it,” cried Halbarad in dismay. “The Rohirrim ride for Minas Tirith, that much we know, but will they be there in time to engage such an army? Could you tell, Aragorn, when this fleet will arrive?”

  “Soon, very soon, days even.”

  “But we’ll never get there in time and even if we were to race like the wind ahead of the host of Rohan, what good would thirty men be against such a force?”

   “None, my friend, none at all,” said Aragorn, shaking his head. “But we are Gondor’s only hope and there may yet be a way, though it fills me with dread to even think of it.”

   Halbarad stifled a groan and he felt a sick weight settle in his stomach. He had long ago learned to expect the unexpected where his chieftain was concerned, but he had a sinking feeling about what was coming. He had still only loosely pieced together all that had been happening since he last saw Aragorn late in November at Sarn Ford. Then he had told him something of what was a foot, wondrous though it was and at last he had come to fully understand the reasons for their long watch on the Shire. Aragorn had told him he intended to travel to Minas Tirith with the son of the Steward and so aid the City in the coming war. Halbarad had been almost beside himself with worry at the thought of their Chieftain going into war without any of his people at his side.

   And things had evidently not gone to plan. The Steward’s son had been slain, as had Gandalf, though he had miraculously been restored to them, and the hobbit who bore the Enemy’s Ring was lost, presumed to be somewhere in the waste lands of Southern Gondor though no one knew this for sure. This land of the horsemen had apparently already seen war and Aragorn had obviously been in the thick of it. And as if all this was not disturbing enough, it seemed Fangorn Forest had woken up and the great fortress of Isengard had been destroyed by walking trees. His mind had reeled as he had tried to absorb all the extraordinary events that had been happening in the last few of months. After everything he had learned that night, he now felt perfectly justified in being rather apprehensive about what was coming next.

   More than that, he was still weary from his own exhausting race to Rohan in search of Aragorn. When word had come from Rivendell that all the Dúnedain fit and able to ride to war were to assemble there as swiftly as they could because Aragorn had need of his kin, all manner of terrible possibilities had raced through his mind as he wondered what had befallen him. It had been his task to gather together as many men as possible and they had then ridden as hard and fast as they could to Rohan, desperately seeking their Chieftain.

   He really felt nothing Aragorn had to say could possibly surprise him.

   Aragorn reached over and grabbed the waterskin again. Halbarad did not think he had ever seen him looking so ill. Even when he had been injured and close to death he had looked healthier than he did right at this moment.

   “You should eat,” he said. “I‘ll willingly go and fetch you something.”

   Aragorn shook his head. “Thank you, Hal, but I could stomach nothing right now.”

   Halbarad took a deep breath. “Well you had better well me the worst then. What exactly do you have in mind?”

   Aragorn took another long swig of water before setting the skin back on the floor. “The summons you received, to come to Rivendell, it is my belief Galadriel of Lothlórien sent it. So often on this road, Hal, I have dearly wished that you and some of my men were with me; and when first the Company arrived in Lothlórien, the Lady read all our hearts and learned of each of our desires.”

   Halbarad smiled. “Well, we are here now, too few though we be. But I do not see your meaning.”

   “Galadriel is a very wise lady and I have been fortunate that she has long had my best interests at heart,” said Aragorn. “She also sent another message, this time with Gandalf. In this there was mention of the ride of the Grey Company, but there was more as well and now I think perhaps I begin to understand. The last two lines of the message went thus:

   But dark is the path appointed for thee:

   The Dead watch the road that leads to the Sea. [1]

   “And now the Sons of Elrond have also come with a message, from our father, reminding me of the words of the Seer, Malbeth. You may even remember this poem, Hal.

   Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?

   The heir of him to whom the oath they swore.

   From the North shall he come, need shall drive him:

   he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead. [2]”

   “I can’t say I do remember this,” said Halbarad, “but then I didn’t have the benefit of having Lord Elrond as a tutor.”

   Aragorn appeared not to hear him.

   “But don’t you see Hal? To whom else could this refer but me? Those words were spoken over a thousand years ago in the reign of the last king, something incidentally Malbeth also predicted correctly.”

    Aragorn ran his hands through his hair. The weariness etched on his face spoke of his many cares. “There is a road which leads through one of the mountains, the Dwimorberg. Legend has it in Rohan that dead men dwell within and the living may not pass the door. The last to venture on this path was Baldor, the son of the second king of Edoras. He was never seen again. Yet I believe this may now be my path.”

    Halbarad looked at him in horror. “You would risk all to go through a haunted mountain rather than round it? Forgive me, Aragorn, but I think this device has addled your mind. What foolishness is this? We would save a day or two at the most.”

   Aragorn gave him a weary smile. “I assure you, Hal, my wits are as keen as ever. It is not merely a matter of saving time. The dead men who dwell in the mountain can not find rest as they failed to honour their oath to fight for Isildur at the end of the last Age. In his fury at their betrayal, Isildur cursed them. Yet he knew they would be called upon once again to fulfil their oath before the war with Sauron was finally over. I fear there can be little doubt it is I who is destined to summon them. I must seek the allegiance of this host and lead them to Pelargir where, Eru willing, they will finally fulfil the vow they made to Isildur all those years ago and fight for our cause.”

   Halbarad let out a long breath and stared at Aragorn in astonished disbelief. Whatever audacious plan he had anticipated, it was not this. Already he could feel his guts tightening at the very thought of seeking out an army of ghosts in the depths of a mountain. By the Valar, when he swore his allegiance to his chieftain, he never expected to be called upon to do anything as terrible as this.

   Aragorn must have guessed his thoughts. “I ask none to come with me, Hal. If needs must, I shall take this path alone.”

   Halbarad did not doubt that for a moment. Aragorn had after all been venturing into danger on his own for much of his adult life. But this time he vowed it would be different. Whether Aragorn was right in his reasoning or not, it mattered little to him. Now that he had made his choice, there could be only one choice for Halbarad: to never leave his side; not while this war lasted. Whatever happened, wherever Aragorn went, he would follow him, no matter what terrors awaited them in the mountain. His chieftain would not suffer this alone.

   Yet such was his dread of the path Aragorn proposed, he still made one last attempt to change his mind.

   “Do you not think it might be prudent to speak to Theoden of this first? Rohan is a large realm, its people mighty warriors; it will be a great host that he musters. Might it not be that you worry needlessly. Perhaps there are men enough to fight this battle without these dead men. And you do not yet know how many days it will take him to gather his men. It might yet be sooner than you think.”

   Aragorn gave him a sympathetic smile. “I will not take this road unless I have no other choice. I assure you, Hal, I do not consider it lightly. But I will nonetheless speak with Theoden before I finally decide my path.”

   He gazed up at the sun which now shone brightly through the open window. “He will soon be on his way. Come, I must meet with him before he departs.”

   Somehow he staggered to his feet, but he slumped against the wall as he tried to walk. Halbarad was instantly beside him, steadying him. “You do not look capable of standing on your own two feet, Aragorn, let alone riding all the way to Pelargir. It is hundreds of miles, is it not?”

   Aragorn lent against his kinsmen for a moment while his strength slowly returned.

   “This weariness is not as bad as you fear, Halbarad,” he said. “I remember I was very tired after my last experience of using a Palantír, though I confess this is far worse. I will be well enough in a few minutes.”

   Halbarad looked at him extremely doubtfully but held his tongue. Aragorn did not have strength to waste on banter. He realised though he could, perhaps lift one of his cares.

   “If it is your fate to take this path, you do know, don’t you, that you will not be venturing it alone?”

   Aragorn looked at him for a long moment and his grey and haggard face broke into a sudden grin. “I never thought that for a moment, Hal. Come let us hear what Theoden has to say.”

~oo0oo~

He went hither some hours ago, saying he must take thought, and only his kinsman, Halbarad, went with him; but his dark doubt or care sits on him.

The Passing of the Grey Company                                                  The Return of the King

[1]  The White Rider                                                                             The Two Towers

[2] The Passing of the Grey Company                                             The Return of the King