A redheaded ranger, identical in appearance to Fëalas except for the style of her braid, paced in the enormous throne room of Minas Tirith. She was waiting eagerly for her king to finish his council meeting. Near her, leaning casually against a large, grey-green marble pillar, was a tall, dark haired man with grey eyes and a silver circlet atop his head.

"Stop pacing!" He barked at Círeth, looking at her sidelong from where he stood.

Círeth stopped and looked at the prince. "Eldarion, this is serious."

He glared. "I know. But boring a hole in the floor will fix nothing."

Círeth snorted and walked back over to her cousin. She looked to the right of the swan throne where the door to the council chambers stood. "How long has he been in there?"

"Two hours," Eldarion replied, closing his eyes. "They should be done soon. Then we will speak to my father."

"You're awfully calm for knowing your friend is missing in enemy territory," Círeth growled fiercely.

Eldarion's eyes shot open and he narrowed them in anger. "Do not mistake my calm demeanor for not caring!"

Círeth nodded with a sigh, looking away. "Forgive me."

Suddenly the doors to the throne room were thrust open and a man, brown haired and grey eyed, rushed inside, one hand on the pommel of his sword. His face was covered in sweat and his flowing hair smeared across his cheeks. He panted for breath as he reached the pillar they huddled by.

"I came as soon as I heard you were here, Cír. Is it true? The rumors?" He looked from her to his best friend, Eldarion, in concern.

"Indeed, Aderthon." Círeth looked at him sadly. "Barahir is missing."

"Elbereth Gilthoniel," Aderthon sighed. "When was he last seen?"

"I'll tell you everything when we speak with Lord Aragorn," Círeth said with a shake of her head, eager to only repeat the information once.

As Aderthon was about to object, a great many voices was heard leaving the council room. King Elessar, together with his wife Queen Arwen and eldest daughter Amdirien, led the way for the councilmembers. Princes Elphir of Dol Amroth and Faramir of Ithilien followed after. Behind them trotted two little men. Hobbits, actually. Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrine Took, the Councilors of the North alongside Bergil of the Dunédain of Arnor, were currently on extended stay in Minas Tirith. Other councilmen flooded out of the room and began leaving the hall.

Círeth, Eldarion, and Aderthon rushed over to the royal group. Aragorn caught sight of them immediately and halted, surprised to see Círeth back in Minas Tirith.

"I see you bear ill news," he murmured. "What do you have to say?"

Círeth looked between Aragorn and Faramir. "Barahir is missing. His patrol never checked back in three weeks ago. We found the bodies of the rangers I put under his command, but not his."

"So he might still be alive," Faramir, Barahir's father eagerly added, though hope was diminishing in his emotional eyes.

Círeth hesitated before nodding. "Perhaps. It is always a possibility."

"I'll reassign some of Fëalas' troops to you," Aragorn immediately decided. "I assume the rangers were killed by Easterling?"

"Indeed." Círeth nodded quickly. "Definitely Easterlings. But it seems more than a border skirmish. It was an ambush."

Aragorn exchanged glances with his wife and then with Faramir. That had many connotations. Border skirmishes were fairly common but rarely ended in much loss of life. They happened when patrols of both kingdoms crossed paths. An ambush...

"You realize what you are saying," Aragorn murmured, face serious. "That means it was planned."

Círeth nodded and looked him in the eye. "Yes, my lord."

Arwen shook her head. "Why would Rhûn choose now to attack us? Now that we've finally regained much of what we lost in the Battle of Arnor? It seems foolish."

What the queen said was true. It seemed odd that the Easterlings who had been content to remain on ambiguously hostile terms would now all but declare open war on the Reunited Kingdom. What did they want?

"Perhaps they feel insulted that we did not ask them for a suitor?" Amdirien piped up from where she stood to the left side of her mother.

"Perhaps. Lesser slights have caused war in the past," shrugged Eldarion.

Faramir nodded. "Find my son, Círeth. I fear Emyn Arnen calls me home and I must leave today. I shall bear this grievous news back to Eowyn."

"Do not lose all hope, my friend," Lord Aragorn assured him, placing his right hand on Faramir's shoulder and gripping it tightly in comfort.

Faramir left the throne room, shoulders hunched over from worry. Merry and Pippin remained behind with Bergil and the others.

"It is good to see you, Círeth," Pippin smiled, his once golden hair now flecked with white like snow in his old age.

"You as well, Master Pippin, and you Master Merry," she smiled and knelt to give him and Merry hugs.

With that, they decided it was time to retire to Aderthob's house, which he had kindly offered to share with them while they remained in Minas Tirith.

"I hate to see Faramir upset like this," Pippin added to Merry as they bid farewell and followed their friend out of the throne room.

Bergil was the last of the councilmen to stand with the royalty. He shook his head. "If only to was easier to bring my troops south. But alas it is not."

"Do not worry, my friend," Aragorn shook his head. "I am sure we will manage."

Once Bergil had left the throne room, Aderthon, Círeth, Eldarion, Amdirien, Aragorn, and Arwen talked in hushed voices. No one was around except the many Knights of the Citadel. But they felt safer talking with quite tones.

Suddenly a crash was heard as a door swung open and a girl ran out, in her hand a small sword. She swung it here and there at invisible enemies.

Arwen glared and shouted at her. "Sídhil!"