Aderthon and Eldarion stood together, side by side, watching their soldiers train. Both commanders had their own hand-picked guard squadron. These soldiers were considered the most elite warriors on the battlefield in all of the Reunited Kingdom. Aderthon personally trained them all, drawing on what he'd been taught from his mother and father who in turn had been taught by Glorfindel the balrog slayer. Eldarion helped train them, for his mastery of the sword matched Aderthon's own, but more often than not he was busy learning kingship from Aragorn.

"Are you prepared," Eldarion asked his cousin quietly. At Aderthon's confused expression he explained further. "To go to war again, I mean."

"I enjoy the thrill of battle, but I do not desire it. Especially not so close to Minas Tirith's people." Aderthon sighed and watched his men more closely. "I am glad to have a name to match the face of our enemy. Berúthiel shall die by our hands, for Elboron's sake, and Faramir's and Finduilas and Eowyn's too. We will right the wrongs Halion has continued to do."

"At least that monster is dead," Eldarion added quickly.

Aderthon nodded, his fist clenched in fury. "If we had slain him in Arnor, this would've all been avoided." He paced forward furiously and swung his sword. "Faervel! With me."

The brown haired man nodded and brought his sword up to block Aderthon's incoming attack. Their dulled swords clanged on impact and Faervel shuddered beneath Aderthon's blow. But he knew his commander well enough to respond in kind. He leapt backwards and swung at Aderthon's side. As expected, the half-elf caught the swing and returned it.

Eldarion watched him, shaking his head. Aderthon's fury was legendary. When he was angry, it took much to calm him down. The prince did not envy Faervel's position. As he stood there watching, a quiet laugh sounded behind him near the gate to the training grounds. He turned to find Nimwing there in a white tunic and cloak. Eldarion smiled and walked the distance to where she stood.

"Hello," Eldarion said pleasantly. "What brings you here?"

"I was curious as to what all the loud noises were about. Aderthon looks quite furious," she replied. Then she paused and frowned. "King Elessar briefed all the ambassadors on the situation. We face a grave threat."

Eldarion nodded. "Indeed we do. But we will be ready, and we will not let the White City fall."

"I have faith in her two commanders," Nimwing agreed, "and her King."

"Your faith in us is appreciated," Eldarion replied with a smile.

She bowed to him. "I will let you return to training." Nimwing bid him farewell and left to go up a level to the ambassadors' houses.

As she left, Círeth and Fëalas passed her by with a quick nod. The twins quickly found their way to the gate, opened it, and went inside. Eldarion turned in surprise when he heard the gate creak open, but smiled when he saw the newcomers. Aderthon stopped his sparring with Faervel, much to the man's relief, and approached them. A frown adorned his face which did not move even upon seeing his sisters.

"What do you need?" Aderthon asked, sheathing his sword. He saw their frowns and shot them his own glare. "Do not lecture me on how I deal with my anger right now."

"You are going to hurt your men if you keep this up," Círeth rebuked him.

Her older brother snarled angrily but said no more, folding his arms. Eldarion turned to the twins and nodded. "What did you need from us?"

"Fëalas seemed to believe you would have foolish notions of revenge after what Halion did," Círeth deadpanned, facing her brother, "but that isn't true, is it?"

"I will not do anything that anyone else would not," Aderthon assured her. "If I can take a chance and kill her, I will. If I cannot, then Kir will."

Círeth smirked. "That is a good answer. I wish I believed it."

"What do you want me to say? I will run and hide when the fighting starts?" Aderthon shook his head vigorously. He kept his voice down. "I will put myself in as much danger as the foot soldiers. It is more likely I will come out than they!"

Eldarion agreed. "Círeth you said the same when Barahir went out. We all put ourselves in danger." He turned to Fëalas. "And you lead as many expeditions as possible. You do not delegate."

The sisters shifted and nodded together as one. They knew he spoke correctly. Still they did not want their brother in danger.

Círeth nodded curtly. "Just... be careful, and be smart when the fighting starts. We will be leading the archers on the wall."

"Hopefully we have a few days yet," Eldarion assured the siblings. "Until then we will all do our best to calmly prepare for the battle. Alright?"

"Yes," Fëalas said with a smile and nod.

Eldarion smiled back at her. "Good. Then Círeth, you should go see the healers and figure out just how much you will be allowed to do when the time comes."

Círeth nodded. She and Fëalas left the training grounds. Aderthon turned to Eldarion and frowned. "We have five thousand troops in the city, yes?"

"Yes. Roughly." Eldarion and he walked back over to the elite soldiers who practiced against one another. "You do not think it will be enough."

"Rhûn has been building its forces for fifty years, Eldarion." Aderthon shook his head in defeat. "Who knows how large Berúthiel's army is!"

"Kir and Akilina are speaking with my father as we do our jobs," he reminded his cousin.

Aderthon gave a curt nod. He flashed a tiny smirk. "I suppose we should do what we do best and fight."

Eldarion laughed. The two leaders of the army walked forward and approached their two different teams respectively. Aderthon spoke to his men as they surrounded him, sweating and panting from their training thus far.

"Go, rest. We will meet up again here after dinner," he told them. "Until then, I want you eating and resting to preserve your strength."

A man, tall and of older appearance than the others nodded and looked at him. "You should do the same, commander."

Aderthon smirked, bowing his head. "Do not worry, Arn. I will."

"Good." Arn nodded.

The soldiers split up, leaving the training area and heading to their homes in the city of Minas Tirith. Aderthon followed them, heading up to the sixth level to his own house. As he walked, thoughts of the impending battle filled his mind and unbidden memories of the Battle for Arnor followed. His forced killing of Tinneth haunted him to that day, and sometimes he would sit and think and wonder if there had been anything he could've done to stop her fall into madness and evil. But Tinneth had lived up to her name: spark. She had been a spark of fury, of anger, of vengeance.

He reached his childhood home barely paying attention to the world around him. Merry and Pippin sat outside on a bench smoking and looked up at the man when he appeared.

"He returns," Pippin said, waving to the man. "How are the troops today?"

"They look alright," he replied with a wry smile.

Merry nodded. "Under you and Prince Eldarion, I am sure they do."

"You flatter me," Aderthon laughed, feeling more at ease now than he had been. The hobbits always managed to help him in that regard. He was glad to live with them. "Now, what are you two doing other than filling yourselves with smoke?"

Pippin laughed. "What more need we to do? Aragorn has already told the council of the impending battle. Word has been sent to the farmers of the Pelennor to evacuate. We desire to sit now upon the ruin and talk, as Gandalf used to say."

"I wish I had known him," Aderthon complained as he stood beside the hobbits.

Pippin chuckled. "Gandalf was a great lord, but he also had a temper. I do not know how you two would have gotten along."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Aderthon objected with a laugh.

"Oh nothing," replied the younger hobbit, smirking.

Aderthon scoffed and left them be, heading inside. He undid his practice armor and put it away. He sat. Many thoughts ran through his head but foremost was concern for his men. He did not want to lead the soldiers of the Reunited Kingdom into defeat.