“I am a soldier of Gondor and I will act as such. And so I will be judged.” Confident as she had been about her return in Bree, she did not feel so tall right now.
“You have returned.”
Aearrien stands in the center of the office, back straight and feet firmly planted onto the marble flooring. Her shoulders are currently held back confidently, and her chin sits high. She is finally home. But she is here, in the stone room, awaiting judgement.
“I have returned, my Captain.” She bows rigidly to the older man.
Surrounding her in the circular room were various swan knights and others that served under her father’s command. Her father sat at his oak desk, arms folded and leaning back casually in the chair. And the first lieutenant, standing behind the captain. Of course he just had to be there too. She swallows dryly and forces herself to keep her composure. When the captain speaks again, her eyes are drawn back to him.
“You were gone many months, soldier. Why so?” The captain holds his stony gaze with hers, one eyebrow raised curiously.
A question she had been dreading, to be sure. Her lips stay pressed shut for several moments, for her to gather her thoughts and come up with an acceptable answer. But the captain is impatient, as always.
“Well?” The tapping of his hand on his desk only serves to make her more nervous, but she eventually gets the will to speak.
“You sent me on a mission, sir. And I attempted to fulfill your request to the best of my abilities.”
“That is good to hear, daughter of mine. I sent you to find aid, yes. So tell me then, have you brought what I asked for?”
“Pardon me?” She knows what he asked, but she must stall. The young woman failed, and she knows it.
“We sent you north on a mission. What have you brought with you?”
“I have brought nothing.” Her voice is quiet and can only be heard by her.
“Repeat that.”
“I have brought nothing.” This time a little louder. But the captain’s reaction is calm.
“Do tell me, soldier. Why have you come back to Dol Amroth when you have not fulfilled your mission?”
“I did as you asked father. I went north, to the rangers, and I asked them for aid. But father.... They can not help. They have their own battles to fight. They can spare nothing for us.”
“What do you mean child? What can be more important than fighting the war against the darkness?”
He stands up now, tall and more imposing than any of the others in the room.
“The very same, father! Our enemies do not only reside in Mordor. They are all around. The north does not have enough warriors to spare any for Gondor.”
Aearrien refuses to back down. If the captain wishes for an argument, then it is an argument he shall have.
“I gave you a command. I care not what the north wants. I asked you to bring aid but I did not care where that aid comes from. So you spent months among the rangers asking them for aid?” He looms over her from behind the desk.
Aearrien shifts back and forth on her feet, unsure of how to answer the question. How can she tell the truth? She will be shamed for her decisions. But she can not lie, he will know. He always knows when one does not speak truthfully to him.
“I did not.” Is her simple answer.
“If you did not spend all that time with the rangers, then what have you been doing all this time?” He is getting angrier. But she pays it no mind. Showing weakness in this room would be a death sentence.
“I spent time with the other men of the north. There were many who were in need of aid. They have just as many enemies as we do.”
One of the swan knights snorts at her answer. When she turns her fiery gaze to him, he shuts up immediately.
"So not only did you spend months wasting precious time and fooling around like a child. But you also failed in your mission?"
"I may have failed in what you commanded of me, but I did not waste anything!"
"Be that as it may, you still failed."
"I did."
"I should have had a son. A son would not have abandoned his family in the wake of failure." Well that was a low blow. And she would argue her worth if she thought it would get her anywhere at this point.
"Forgive me father, but I did what I thought was best!"
"Well it wasn't enough. You are not fit to be a daughter of mine, even less a soldier worthy of what I have given you."
Her father has changed. He would never have said something so heartless over one failure in the past. Her gaze follows her father's as he looks at his first lieutenant. Ah, of course. Manipulation at it's finest. Her eyes narrow as the hatred she felt for that man boils in her veins. When the first lieutenant speaks, she has to stop herself from screaming in rage. She knew this had been coming. She knew it from the moment she left all those months ago.
“Your bow that the weapon smith's labored over for days? Hand it over girl.” The carved bow that had been slung over her shoulders is reverently removed and set upon the desk, though there is a lot of hesitation in the movements.
“The quiver and sword too. They are no longer yours to use.” She reluctantly takes her quiver and sets it next to the bow. And the sword in its gilded sheath is not so quick to follow.
“Your cloak and the pin.” With each order, the lieutenant’s voice hardens. The smirk on his face is grotesque in it’s glee.
“But it is winter!” She objects.
“That is no concern of mine. Hand them over.”
And so she does. She removes the cloak and the pin bearing her family’s insignia, a swan with a bow in the backdrop, and sets them with her other weapons.
“The daggers too.”
With a roll of her eyes, she removes a dagger from her boot and two from her belt and throws them on the desk. Her annoyance is clear. The liutenant is making a show out of this.
‘He is probably getting some sick enjoyment out of my shame. The monster…’ she thinks.
“Your hair.”
The smirk has yet to leave his face. ‘Not that it ever will.’ Her inner monologue continues. But she removes the thin misericorde holding her hair up out of the way. As the knife is thrown onto the pile that continuously grows on the desk, her hair tumbles out of its precarious style on the top of her head.
“There is more.” He folds his arms expectantly and glares at her.
“There is not. You have taken everything from me.”
The man stalks around the desk from where he had been standing behind her father and grabs her arm tightly. He grabs the hilt of the dagger in her gauntlet and takes it from her with ease. Aearrien is quick to react, ripping her arm from his grasp and wrapping her newly freed hand around his throat.
“Give that dagger back or I will pluck both of your eyeballs out with the very blade.” He chokes and tries to reply, but is unable to with the harsh grip she holds on his throat.
“Let the girl have it. That one is not ours.”
Her father finally speaks up. Only when the lieutenant holds the dagger out to her does she release her choke-hold. The dagger is put back where she had hidden it and glares at the man gasping for breath until he steps back.
“So you have taken everything from me. What do you wish from me, captain?”
“I will give you a choice, Aearrien. You can stay here in Dol Amroth and I will be merciful. I will give you the honor of a position under the lieutenant’s command and if you prove yourself and work hard you can work your way back up the ladder. But if you leave this office now, you will not be allowed back into this keep.” He probably thinks this a kind offer, but she would never accept it.
“I shall not accept this offer. I am no hero of Gondor. I will return to the north, where they will accept me.”
“You are a soldier of Dol Amroth and that is where your duty lies. You do not get to make the choice of who you fight for.”
“I have already been given a choice. Duty or freedom. Duty or happiness. But I choose both. I have a duty, yes. But it is not to you. My duty is to protect this world and all the free peoples in it. I will pledge my blade for their freedom, and for mine.”
Her words are filled with confidence, and her posture is strong. But on the inside, her mind is reeling. She still stands tall, but as the conversation progresses, she becomes less and less sure of her words.
“You think a little swan like you can aid those silly men in the north?” And there the lieutenant was again, the reason she had left in the first place.
“You always called me that, didn’t you? A little swan. Your sweet little, swan. A little swan that you forced into a golden cage. But where has that gotten me? I am bitter and filled with anger now. And I crave revenge. And yet, I crave freedom more. I am no swan. Not anymore.”
“If you are not a swan, then what are you?” The sneer on the young man’s face spurs her on.
“The Eagle’s of Manwe. They are strong and powerful and they fly free in the skies of this world, do they not? They go where they please and provide aid where they can. And so shall it be for me. I will go north. And I will fight for those who need me. You can not and will not stop me.”
“What if I forbid you?" Her father speaks up again, words laced with anger and rage.
“You can not forbid me from doing what I will.”
“I am your father. You will do as I say!” The shouting that comes from the man echoes in the stone room.
“You said it yourself. No child of yours would fail as I have.”
“So I did. What if I no longer wish to have a daughter?” Aearrien forces the tears away. She would not give all of these men the satisfaction of seeing her weep for her losses this day.
"If that is what you wish, then so be it. I hereby relieve myself of your name and your home. I am no longer Aearrien of Dol Amroth."
“And what if I forbid you from going back north as your captain?"
“Then I will cut down any that stand in my way.”
Her hand goes to the dagger at her side, just in case the captain had the gall to actually stop her. Without a second thought she turns from them, from everything she ever knew and begins to stalk out of the room. None of the soldiers moved to stop her and she smirked. They were scared of her and she knew it.
“You are making a mistake girl! You will never have it as good out there than you would here. You will die soon enough.” Her father...no, the captain called out to her.
And she pauses, lips twitching up into a hint of a smile. When Aearrien turns to face the room of swan knights and soldiers, her face shows a determination that they had never seen from her before.
“I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees.”
She does not spare a glance to the captain, the swan knights, the soldiers, or him. They are not deserving of any other last words from her.
So the ranger becomes no one. Gondor will be replaced with the rest of the world. Her family’s insignia will be replaced with a sigil of her own. Her Gondorian sword, replaced with a newly forged dagger. And her bitter frown? Replaced with a hint of a smile.
