The Captain and the young Ranger stood behind the heavy oak doors of his office. Though the rhythmic clanging of swords and the shouting of trainees echoed from the courtyard below, the air inside the room was thick with a suffocating, quiet dread.
The Captain paced behind his long wooden desk, a deep frown carved into his weathered face. Every few moments, he would pause, cast a heavy glance at his daughter, and resume his pacing.
Standing at attention, dressed in the practical greens and browns of the forest rather than the heavy plate he preferred her in, Aearien watched him with a mixture of exasperation and empathy.
"You cannot keep me stationed in the inner citadel forever, Father," Aearien finally spoke, keeping her tone formal, using the Sindarin common to the nobility of Dol Amroth. "The shadows lengthen on the coast. I am of no use to our people pacing the battlements."
The older man stopped his pacing. He leaned heavily on the desk, looking wearily into her grey eyes.
"Aearien, you have not yet experienced the full cruelty of this war. If I could, I would build walls high enough to ensure you knew nothing but peace. But Gondor is falling to the shadow." He looked down at the maps strewn across his desk. "The Corsairs grow bolder every night. We need help if we are to survive, and we need it quickly. Only so many of our kin can fall before the City of Swans is devoured."
Aearien stood taller, seizing the opportunity. "We sent word to the North moons ago and have heard nothing. Let me ride to Esteldin. Let me find out what our kin’s answer is to our call."
Her father’s eyes swam with conflicting fears. He hated the thought of her leaving the city, but the thought of her facing Corsair blades on the beaches terrified him more. A diplomatic ride inland to Eriador, far from the coastal frontlines, seemed the safer gamble.
"It is a long and dangerous road," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
"I will find aid wherever it may come," she promised firmly. "Let me do this for our home."
With a heavy sigh that seemed to age him ten years, the Captain retrieved a pre-sealed letter from his drawer. He handed it to Aearren with utmost care, his expression turning deadly serious. "You may be our only hope, young one. Noro lim, Aearien."
With a firm nod, the Ranger bowed and made her way swiftly toward the heavy wooden doors. Just as her hand grasped the iron ring, she caught the quiet, trembling words he spoke to her back.
"No vain i suil lîn. Be safe, my daughter."
Not five minutes later, a Ranger astride a dark steed flew through the gates of Dol Amroth, carrying the heavy burden of her city's survival.
