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theadmiringbog · 5 years ago

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Adler was one of the original core members of the Vienna Psychoanalytic Society, which was led by Freud. His ideas were counter to Freud’s, and he split from the group and proposed an “individual psychology” based on his own original theories.

Adler was very different from Jung, who revered Freud as a father figure.

...

In Stephen Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, much of the content closely resembles Adler’s ideas. In other words, rather than being a strict area of scholarship, Adlerian psychology is accepted as a realization, a culmination of truths and of human understanding. Yet Adler’s ideas are said to have been a hundred years ahead of their time, and even today we have not managed to fully comprehend them. That is how truly groundbreaking they were.

If we focus only on past causes and try to explain things solely through cause and effect, we end up with “determinism.” Because what this says is that our present and our future have already been decided by past occurrences, and are unalterable.

Youth: You’re saying that the past doesn’t matter?

PHILOSOPHER: Yes, that is the standpoint of Adlerian psychology.

Those who take an etiological stance, including most counselors and psychiatrists, would argue that what you were suffering from stemmed from such-and-such cause in the past, and would then end up just consoling you by saying, “So you see, it’s not your fault.” The argument concerning so-called traumas is typical of etiology.

YOUTH: Wait a minute! Are you denying the existence of trauma altogether?

PHILOSOPHER: Yes, I am. Adamantly.

In Adlerian psychology, trauma is definitively denied.

Adler, in denial of the trauma argument, states the following: “No experience is in itself a cause of our success or failure. We do not suffer from the shock of our experiences—the so-called trauma—but instead we make out of them whatever suits our purposes. We are not determined by our experiences, but the meaning we give them is self-determining.”

He is not saying that the experience of a horrible calamity or abuse during childhood or other such incidents have no influence on forming a personality; their influences are strong. But the important thing is that nothing is actually determined by those influences.

Your life is not something that someone gives you, but something you choose yourself, and you are the one who decides how you live.

So you are saying that one should always take the “people can change” premise?

PHILOSOPHER: Of course.

Why are you rushing for answers? You should arrive at answers on your own, not rely upon what you get from someone else. Answers from others are nothing more than stopgap measures; they’re of no value.

Socrates spent his days having public debates with the citizens of Athens, especially the young, and it was his disciple, Plato, who put his philosophy into writing for future generations. Adler, too, showed little interest in literary activities, preferring to engage in personal dialogue at cafés in Vienna, and hold small discussion groups. He was definitely not an armchair intellectual.

Adlerian psychology is a psychology of courage.

Your unhappiness cannot be blamed on your past or your environment. And it isn’t that you lack competence. You just lack courage. One might say you are lacking in the courage to be happy.

He can never find enough time to write novels, and that’s why he can’t complete work and enter it for writing awards. But is that the real reason? No! It’s actually that he wants to leave the possibility of “I can do it if I try” open, by not committing to anything.

He doesn’t want to expose his work to criticism, and he certainly doesn’t want to face the reality that he might produce an inferior piece of writing and face rejection. He wants to live inside that realm of possibilities, where he can say that he could do it if he only had the time,

Adler’s teleology tells us, “No matter what has occurred in your life up to this point, it should have no bearing at all on how you live from now on.” That you, living in the here and now, are the one who determines your own life.

YOUTH: My life is determined at this exact point?

PHILOSOPHER: Yes, because the past does not exist.

What I can do is to get the person first to accept “myself now,” and then regardless of the outcome have the courage to step forward. In Adlerian psychology, this kind of approach is called “encouragement.”

All problems are interpersonal relationship problems.

The pursuit of superiority and the feeling of inferiority are not diseases but stimulants to normal, healthy striving and growth.

If it is not used in the wrong way, the feeling of inferiority, too, can promote striving and growth.

You might think, I’m not well educated, so I can’t succeed. Put the other way around, the reasoning can be, If only I were well educated, I could be really successful.

“In our culture weakness can be quite strong and powerful.”

YOUTH: So weakness is powerful?

PHILOSOPHER: Adler says, “In fact, if we were to ask ourselves who is the strongest person in our culture, the logical answer would be, the baby. The baby rules and cannot be dominated.”

As long as one continues to use one’s misfortune to one’s advantage in order to be “special,” one will always need that misfortune.

A healthy feeling of inferiority is not something that comes from comparing oneself to others; it comes from one’s comparison with one’s ideal self.

Instead of treating the child like an adult, or like a child, one must treat him or her like a human being. One interacts with the child with sincerity, as another human being just like oneself.

This is what is so terrifying about competition. Even if you’re not a loser, even if you’re someone who keeps on winning, if you are someone who has placed himself in competition, you will never have a moment’s peace. You don’t want to be a loser. And you always have to keep on winning if you don’t want to be a loser. You can’t trust other people.

Once one is released from the schema of competition, the need to triumph over someone disappears. One is also released from the fear that says, Maybe I will lose. And one becomes able to celebrate other people’s happiness with all one’s heart.

If someone were to abuse me to my face, I would think about the person’s hidden goal.

First, there are two objectives for behavior: to be self-reliant and to live in harmony with society. Then, the two objectives for the psychology that supports these behaviors are the consciousness that I have the ability and the consciousness that people are my comrades.

Adler does not accept restricting one’s partner. If the person seems to be happy, one can frankly celebrate that condition. That is love. Relationships in which people restrict each other eventually fall apart.

When one can think, Whenever I am with this person, I can behave very freely, one can really feel love. One can be in a calm and quite natural state, without having feelings of inferiority or being beset with the need to flaunt one’s superiority. That is what real love is like.

Why is it that people seek recognition from others? In many cases, it is due to the influence of reward-and-punishment education.

YOUTH: Reward-and-punishment education?

PHILOSOPHER: If one takes appropriate action, one receives praise. If one takes inappropriate action, one receives punishment. Adler was very critical of education by reward and punishment. It leads to mistaken lifestyles in which people think, If no one is going to praise me, I won’t take appropriate action and If no one is going to punish me, I’ll engage in inappropriate actions, too.

Wishing so hard to be recognized will lead to a life of following expectations held by other people who want you to be “this kind of person.” In other words, you throw away who you really are and live other people’s lives.

And please remember this: If you are not living to satisfy other people’s expectations, it follows that other people are not living to satisfy your expectations. Someone might not act the way you want him to, but it doesn’t do to get angry.

In general, all interpersonal relationship troubles are caused by intruding on other people’s tasks, or having one’s own tasks intruded on. Carrying out the separation of tasks is enough to change one’s interpersonal relationships dramatically.

Think about it this way: Intervening in other people’s tasks and taking on other people’s tasks turns one’s life into something heavy and full of hardship. If you are leading a life of worry and suffering—which stems from interpersonal relationships—learn the boundary of “From here on, that is not my task.” And discard other people’s tasks. That is the first step toward lightening the load and making life simpler.

Why are you worried about other people looking at you, anyway? Adlerian psychology has an easy answer. You haven’t done the separation of tasks yet. You assume that even things that should be other people’s tasks are your own.

Conducting oneself in such a way as to not be disliked by anyone is an extremely unfree way of living, and is also impossible.

YOUTH: Are you free, now?

PHILOSOPHER: Yes. I am free.

YOUTH: You do not want to be disliked, but you don’t mind if you are?

PHILOSOPHER: Yes, that’s right.

The courage to be happy also includes the courage to be disliked. When you have gained that courage, your interpersonal relationships will all at once change into things of lightness.

Living in fear of one’s relationships falling apart is an unfree way to live, in which one is living for other people.

Do not cling to the small community right in front of you. There will always be more “you and I,” and more “everyone,” and larger communities that exist.

One must not praise, and one must not rebuke.

In the act of praise, there is the aspect of it being “the passing of judgment by a person of ability on a person of no ability.”

The mother who praises the child by saying things like “You’re such a good helper!” or “Good job!” or “Well, aren’t you something!” is unconsciously creating a hierarchical relationship and seeing the child as beneath her.

Whether we praise or rebuke others, the only difference is one of the carrot or the stick, and the background goal is manipulation. The reason Adlerian psychology is highly critical of reward-and-punishment education is that its intention is to manipulate children.

Yes. The most important thing is to not judge other people. “Judgment” is a word that comes out of vertical relationships. If one is building horizontal relationships, there will be words of more straightforward gratitude and respect and joy.

PHILOSOPHER: On the other hand, if one has managed to build a horizontal relationship with at least one person—if one has been able to build a relationship of equals in the true sense of the term—that is a major lifestyle transformation. With that breakthrough, all one’s interpersonal relations will gradually become horizontal.

We do not lack ability. We just lack courage. It all comes down to courage.

Having a firm grasp on the truth of things—that is resignation.

Think about it this way. We can believe. And we can doubt. But we are aspiring to see others as our comrades. To believe or to doubt—the choice should be clear.

I have discussed self-acceptance, confidence in others, and contribution to others, in that order. However, these three are linked as an indispensable whole, in a sort of circular structure. It is because one accepts oneself just as one is—one self-accepts—that one can have “confidence in others” without the fear of being taken advantage of. And it is because one can place unconditional confidence in others, and feel that people are one’s comrades, that one can engage in “contribution to others.” Further, it is because one contributes to others that one can have the deep awareness that “I am of use to someone” and accept oneself just as one is. One can self-accept.

Adler does not recognize ways of living in which certain aspects are unusually dominant.

“Work” does not mean having a job at a company. Work in the home, child-rearing, contributing to the local society, hobbies, and all manner of other things are work. Companies and such are just one small part of that. A way of living that acknowledges only company work is one that is lacking in harmony of life.

Does one accept oneself on the level of acts, or on the level of being?

In a word, happiness is the feeling of contribution. That is the definition of happiness.

Why is it necessary to be special? Probably because one cannot accept one’s normal self. And it is precisely for this reason that when being especially good becomes a lost cause, one makes the huge leap to being especially bad—the opposite extreme. But is being normal, being ordinary, really such a bad thing? Is it something inferior? Or, in truth, isn’t everybody normal?

You are probably rejecting normality because you equate being normal with being incapable. Being normal is not being incapable. One does not need to flaunt one’s superiority.

But if life were climbing a mountain in order to reach the top, then the greater part of life would end up being “en route.” That is to say, one’s “real life” would begin with one’s trek on the mountainside, and the distance one has traveled up until that point would be a “tentative life” led by a “tentative me.”

People who think of life as being like climbing a mountain are treating their own existences as lines. As if there is a line that started the instant one came into this world, and that continues in all manner of curves of varying sizes until it arrives at the summit, and then at long last reaches its terminus, which is death. This conception, which treats life as a kind of story, is an idea that links with Freudian etiology (the attributing of causes), and is a way of thinking that makes the greater part of life into something that is “en route.”

...

Think of life as a series of dots. If you look through a magnifying glass at a solid line drawn with chalk, you will discover that what you thought was a line is actually a series of small dots. Seemingly linear existence is actually a series of dots; in other words, life is a series of moments.

It is a series of moments called “now.” We can live only in the here and now. Our lives exist only in moments. Adults who do not know this attempt to impose “linear” lives onto young people. Their thinking is that staying on the conventional tracks—good university, big company, stable household—is a happy life. But life is not made up of lines or anything like that.

YOUTH: So there’s no need for life planning or career planning?

PHILOSOPHER: If life were a line, then life planning would be possible. But our lives are only a series of dots. A well-planned life is not something to be treated as necessary or unnecessary, as it is impossible.

Among those who have danced the dance of the violin, there are people who stay the course and become professional musicians. Among those who have danced the dance of the bar examination, there are people who become lawyers. There are people who have danced the dance of writing and become authors. Of course, it also happens that people end up in entirely different places. But none of these lives came to an end “en route.” It is enough if one finds fulfillment in the here and now one is dancing.

Suppose you are going on a journey to Egypt. Would you try to arrive at the Great Pyramid of Giza as efficiently and quickly as possible, and then head straight back home by the shortest route? One would not call that a “journey.” You should be on a journey the moment you step outside your home, and all the moments on the way to your destination should be a journey. Of course, there might be circumstances that prevent you from making it to the pyramid, but that does not mean you didn’t go on a journey. This is “energeial life.”

If the goal of climbing a mountain were to get to the top, that would be a kinetic act. To take it to the extreme, it wouldn’t matter if you went to the mountaintop in a helicopter, stayed there for five minutes or so, and then headed back in the helicopter again. Of course, if you didn’t make it to the mountaintop, that would mean the mountain-climbing expedition was a failure. However, if the goal is mountain climbing itself, and not just getting to the top, one could say it is energeial. In this case, in the end it doesn’t matter whether one makes it to the mountaintop or not.

We should live more earnestly only here and now. The fact that you think you can see the past, or predict the future, is proof that rather than living earnestly here and now, you are living in a dim twilight. Life is a series of moments, and neither the past nor the future exists. You are trying to give yourself a way out by focusing on the past and the future.

When one adopts the point of view of Freudian etiology, one sees life as a kind of great big story based on cause and effect. So then it’s all about where and when I was born, what my childhood was like, the school I attended and the company where I got a job. And that decides who I am now and who I will become.

Whatever meaning life has must be assigned to it by the individual. So life in general has no meaning whatsoever. But you can assign meaning to that life. And you are the only one who can assign meaning to your life.

No matter what moments you are living, or if there are people who dislike you, as long as you do not lose sight of the guiding star of “I contribute to others,” you will not lose your way, and you can do whatever you like. Whether you’re disliked or not, you pay it no mind and live free.

YOUTH: If I have the star of contribution to others high in the sky above me, I will always have happiness and comrades by my side.

PHILOSOPHER: Then, let’s dance in earnest the moments of the here and now, and live in earnest. Do not look at the past, and do not look at the future. One lives each complete moment like a dance. There is no need to compete with anyone, and one has no use for destinations.

As long as you are dancing, you will get somewhere.

#The Courage to be Disliked #books

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padfootagain · 6 years ago

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Guardians of Middle-Earth (II)

Chapter 2 : Death And Trust

Here comes the second chapter of 'Guardians of Middle Earth'! If you've missed the first chapter, you can check it out in my masterlist, the link is in my blog description.

Lots of things are going on in this chapter as I settle the story. I hope you like it. Again, I've separated the paragraphs of two different timelines with these '-----' and paragraphs belonging to the same timeline with those '***'.

There will be scenes of violence through this fic (including this chapter), so if you don't feel comfortable with that, you shouldn't read what follows.

Please, tell me what you think about it, it's so important to me to know if you liked it!

The beautiful aesthetic was made by @marvelcapsicle

Word count : 12 126

It was raining. In the great hall of stone, they could hear the raindrops crashing against the stones and the roof, and the wind roaring through the castle. Eldarion drank a gulp of water, his throat slightly dry. Everyone in the hall was carefully listening to his words. He felt strange before so much interest. He had lost the habit, perhaps, to be the centre of attention. Before his journey East, he was often stared at, but no one was asking him anything. He was the Prince, and was thus respected, but he was only a Prince. His father was the one who was listened to. He had never been prepared in Minas Tirith to be the one towards whom everyone turns in the most desperate moment, when the shadows are the thickest upon the world and that no hope seems to shine in the horizon. But in the East, it had been a very different story. He had found himself a charisma that kept hope alit in his friends' eyes, and made his enemies shudder. He had led, and advised, and ruled... He had shouted speeches before thousands of men, defended halls of stones and wood, he had killed, and fought, and almost died more than once. He had risen again after falls that were so high he didn't know which miracle had allowed him to be standing once more. He had done much more than what he had been sent away for. He was a strong and respectful grown man now.

But before the judges aligned before and around him, he felt like a child all over again. Despite his tall and strong silhouette, he felt little and weak under the high roof of stone. The statues around him seemed to look at him disapprovingly. And the stare his father was throwing at him was piercing his heart. He didn't look like he trusted his son. He looked like he had been betrayed. And the mere thought that his father could imagine for just a second that Eldarion had betrayed him was unbearable to the Prince. It was the worst part of this whole thing, since he had been back to Minas Tirith : these constant questions, the inquisitional glances, the reprobating looks, the little frowns... As if tales about his journey had reached the white City before he could come back. And Eldarion couldn't say that he was surprised. The Guard had voluntarily wrapped his journey in mystery and secrets, it was only a logical consequence that lies had formed in their wakes.

Still, it was painful for him to look at his father...

"Where did you go first?" Eomer asked him.

Eldarion put down his glass of water next to his chair, before answering to the King of Rohan.

"Ana thought it was important for us all to train together, before rushing into the wild. The advantage of being six was that we could split the group in three pairs, and thus be much more efficient. It was obvious the two dwarves would be paired together, but it was something else entirely for the rest of us."

"What do you mean?" Faramir asked Eldarion.

"The two dwarves are brothers, and are both skilled in very different areas. It was important to create pairs that were as complete in skills as possible. Eoden and I, for example, are both strong and good swordsmen, when Adhalan has always preferred archery. It was obviously more interesting to pair Adhalan with Eoden or myself than to gather the two men together."

"And yet the two dwarves remained united," Faramir pointed out.

Eldarion shrugged.

"They are brothers, there is nothing you could ever say to separate them. It was obvious really. The only question that remained was for the four of us."

"How did you decide?"

Eldarion cleared his throat, shifting on his uncomfortable tool. No one knew where they had gone, even then, at the very beginning of their journey.

"We aimed for Ithilien first," the Prince answered slowly. "It was safe, and we would have supplies in food and water for a while, we could take a bit of time to know each other better... It was a good way to start smoothly."

"You lost time then, is that it?" the Master of Lake-Town asked him suspiciously.

"I wouldn't say that," Eldarion answered elusively.

"What happened in Ithilien?" Faramir asked the Prince.

A sad smile appeared on the Prince's face.

"Many things, indeed..."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Five Years Earlier

Ithilien

The sun was warm on his skin. Birds were singing in the trees, the scent of flowers carried by the soft breeze tickled his nose. He loved Ithilien. He had been there several times with his parents, and he reckoned it was his favourite part of Gondor. It was strange for him to think of Ithilien as a part of his kingdom actually, the nature and the life there was too wild and free, and he didn't think that these lands could belong to any man. It was nature and wilderness in its softest form. He could hear the rushing of a waterfall coming to his ears. He breathed deeply the pure and cool air, and let it fill up his lungs. But he was soon torn away from his reverie by the sound of the Witch's voice walking before him.

"We should hurry," Ana said. "We need to reach the Pool before nightfall."

"The Pool?" Eoden asked. "Where is this place?"

"Not far," Ana reassured him.

"I thought we were aiming for the edge of the Dead Marshes, before heading North, to walk around the water."

"There is first something I'd like to check," she answered elusively. "And we'll need a safe shelter."

Eldarion looked cautiously at the woman.

"Why... you are keeping secrets already," he said, the bitterness in his tone badly hidden.

She froze, turning around to stare back at the man who walked behind her. She didn't like him. She had felt since the beginning that it was a mistake to bring him along, but now she was absolutely certain that it was an awful idea. She knew he wasn't evil. He wasn't idle. He wasn't complaining. He was quite funny, actually, he had a good sense of humour.

But he was a prince.

Though he didn't look at them as his inferiors, she could see in the way he held himself that he had been taught to look like he was superior. He was fragile despite his muscular silhouette. He had never known pain, and it was one of the most dangerous things about him, that could bring doom upon their group. He didn't know enough about life...

She didn't like him, and the situation between the two had not improved since they had left the White City, only a few days before.

"Perhaps I just don't trust you," she snapped.

He flinched, but quickly regained his composure. He stood a bit straighter, if possible, in a very royal way.

Ana thought she might throw up.

"I would be grateful if you did not insult me," he said, frowning slightly with his growing anger.

"It was not an insult, merely an honest statement."

"Can I at least know why you refuse to trust me at all?"

"I don't trust politicians."

"I am no politician."

"What are you then? A warrior? Let me laugh..."

"Please."

Eoden jumped before the two of them before any could add another mean remark.

"And I thought we were all adults here," Eoden sighed.

"It's not my fault if..." Eldarion began.

"Please, we have heard enough bickering for one day," the Rohirrim interrupted him.

Ana rolled her eyes, and resumed her walk among the trees, her soft steps shushed by the smooth grass.

"Why do we have to hurry anyway?" Urin protested. "We are in Gondor still. These lands are safe."

"Yes, but I will need to go after the night has fallen if I want to reach the place I seek discreetly," Ana replied.

"Are you saying that you are planning on going there alone?" Adhalan asked.

"Adh..."

But the elf took her arm, forcing the Witch to turn around and face her friend.

"You are not invincible. It is the reason why you have not been sent alone."

"I do not need your help to achieve what I am about to do..."

"We said we would split into pairs," Eldarion said. "You should at least bring one of us with you."

"Listen to the child," Adhalan nodded, ignoring Eldarion's wince at the name she had used for him. "He speaks wisdom now. At least one of us should go with you."

Ana sighed.

"Alright... But first, let's hurry. We must find shelter for tonight."

"Where are we heading?" Goin asked, panting to keep up the pace set by the Witch.

"Henneth AnnÃ»n," she answered.

Eldarion smiled. For long he had wanted to see the legendary waterfall, where Faramir and his men had lived when Mordor was still a shadow menacing the world, and the Ring of Power was still in Middle-Earth.

"Have you ever been there?" Eoden asked the young man.

Eldarion shook his head.

"But I have heard many tales about this place. "

"Faramir used it during the War," Ana added.

"I thought no one but the soldiers of Gondor could go there," Adhalan said, frowning slightly as she looked at her best friend with worried eyes. "I thought that anyone who would go there but Men of Gondor would be sentenced to death."

"Lucky for us we have a man of Gondor with us then," Ana replied, without looking at Eldarion. "Besides, I doubt that Faramir would sentence me to death for using our old shelter."

"Our shelter?" asked Eldarion, raising up an eyebrow. "Do you mean that you have been there before?"

Ana stopped, catching her breath after having climbed a little hill. The rest of the group soon joined her, and they all looked at her as she stared into nothing, her eyes set upon the blue sky and the green leaves, though they could only see visions from her past.

"It was a long time ago," she said softly, and her expression was gentle and sad all of a sudden. "It was before Sauron was defeated. It was before Strider became Elessar. It was before the Elves all left these lands. It was in a time when we needed to fight to be free... It was in another life. "

She looked at Eldarion, her wild green eyes piercing through him to his soul.

"It was during the War..."

She looked away again, and walked down the hill.

"Come on, we still have a long way to go."

********************************************

The sun was falling at what seemed to be an incredibly great speed. The fire that the golden orb had set to the sky was bathing everything around the travellers. A scent of flowers and sugary fruits floated in the air. Eldarion couldn't understand why the Witch was in such a hurry. She was almost running throughout the wild woods of Ithilien, when all the man wanted to do was walk slowly through the generous nature that surrounded them. Behind him, he could hear the heavy panting of the two dwarves as they struggled to keep up the pace set by their guide.

"We're almost there," Ana reassured her friends, glancing over at the tired dwarves.

"I hope for you... that a comfortable bed... awaits us there," Goin stuttered between his heavy breathing.

"I would not have much hope if I were you," Ana replied. "No one has used this shelter for years."

She suddenly stopped, and Eldarion looked up to follow her gaze across the wilderness. He remained struck by awe.

He had imagined the hidden shelter in a million different ways. His father and Faramir often spoke of this place as their conversation often drifted to the days of the War they had fought together. Eldarion's memories about his childhood were painted with those scenes : the King of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien, sitting in the gardens under the cherry trees in blossom, their gazes lost on the remaining mountains of the Dark Land, speaking about the dark days they had survived to. The King would carry his young son upon his laps, and talk to him about Wargs, and Orcs, and Goblins and Faramir would tell him about the raids he led in Ithilien, and the armies of Mordor... until the little boy, his head full with stories and his eyes drenched with tiredness, would fall asleep in his father's arms. And in his dreams, he would walk through the curtain of water that hid the entrance to this sanctuary lost in the Enemy's lands. But nothing had prepared him to the sight that laid before his eyes.

The water glistened with the golden light of the sinking sun, and every droplet of water looked like a drop of liquid sun. The wild flowers that grew on the rocks coloured with rich and joyful shades the cascade. The pool that laid before the waterfall and in which the wild waters fell in a loud and yet soft cry, alit with the burning fire of the last lights of the day as well, seemed to be made of pure gold. Eldarion didn't know how high the fall was, but he was feeling like a very little thing before this prowess of nature.

He started when Eoden put a hand on his arm, tearing him away from his thoughts.

"I have to say, that it is quite a beautiful sight," the Rohirrim smiled, as he looked with amused eyes at the awe that shone in his friend's eyes.

"Indeed," Eldarion breathed, looking sheepishly at the ground, as he followed the others towards the pool.

They slowly climbed the old staircase hidden in the stone that led to a passage behind the waterfall. By the time they climbed to the top, trying to avoid the broken rocks and the slipping stones, it was almost night. Darkness had covered the path before their feet, and as they reached the curtain of water, the moon was rising slowly from the horizon. Eldarion followed the Witch through the darkness, leaving the dark purple sky as a ceiling for a moist and cold sky of rocks. There was no stars for now to light their way, and soon, after only a few steps into the cave, they couldn't see their own feet.Â Eldarion made a movement towards his bag, but Ana let out a little laugh that stopped him.

"No need for fire," she told him over her shoulder.

She made a slight movement of her hand, and all the old torches that still hung at the walls were suddenly alit with bright flames. Eoden patted the young man's shoulder.

"You will get used to it. Do not worry, my friend."

Eldarion merely nodded in response, and he followed the smiling Witch further into the cavern.

The debris of an ancient hiding place were still visible under the thick layer of dust that time had poured on the cave. And old wooden table still stood there, in the middle of the large room, chairs rested against the walls, an old chest barely visible under the dust was set in a corner... There were still weapons hanging at the walls, or leaning against the wet stones, as if they were ready to be taken by the next warrior that would pass this way, as if time had stopped there, in this wet and cold cave carved in the strong stones, and was waiting for new soldiers to hide there. Eldarion put down his bag, and took a look around, walking further into the cave, whilst the others were preparing a fire.

"When did you come here exactly?" Eldarion asked the Witch, as he opened a chest covered with dust and dirt.

It was full of old maps, and when he picked one up, and unfolded the old and fragile parchment that looked as if it was going to disappear between his fingers, he could see the old boundaries of his Kingdom. Red crosses seemed to indicate camps. The camps of the Enemy...

"I fought among Men for a while," she answered softly. "Gandalf sent me South to keep an eye on the Cities of Men."

She seemed sad, tortured even, at the mention of her past.

"I did not mean to upset you," Eldarion told her, his voice gentle and understanding. "I am sorry, I should not have asked..."

"There is nothing wrong in being curious," she reassured him, though her tone was quite cold.

Eldarion decided not to talk about this subject anymore, but Ana spoke again, and the Prince didn't dare to interrupt her.

"I remained under the shadow of Mordor almost as long as the Hobbits' journey lasted. I did not walk out of Ithilien but to follow Faramir and his men to Osgiliath, and then to fight at Minas Tirith."

They all sat down around the fire, and Adhalan picked up some elven bread from her bag, giving a piece of the energetic food to each of them.

"I do not like to talk about the past," the Witch confessed. "We do not live in such a world anymore... or at least I hope we don't."

Her gaze drifted towards the curtain of water on her left, and she seemed to be watching at scenes that had been playing in her head many times since they happened for real. Her right hand came resting upon her stomach, and she remained still for a while. When she spoke again, her voice sounded far away, and was barely audible above the sound of the thundering waterfall.

"I hope so many deaths were not in vain..."

She shuddered, coming back to reality, and she set her green, infinite gaze upon the Prince of Gondor. He felt stupid for staring at her so intensely, but he couldn't help it somehow.

"Does your father talk to you about the War?" she asked him.

Eldarion couldn't think of any other moment when she had spoken to him with a tone that was neither cold nor distant. It sounded honest on the contrary, as if she hoped to finally have someone with whom she could talk about demons that kept torturing her at night.

"Well..." Eldarion mumbled, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "He told me everything there is to know about... 'History'. Not much about the reality of it, I have to say."

"The reality of it?" Eoden asked.

"How it feels, how it makes him feel... He told me the glorious side of it. But I have never been able to imagine how war could bring glory to anyone. I imagine it... more like a nightmare of some kind."

No one spoke for a while. Ana was intensely staring at him. But her glance was not cold. Eldarion could even guess that she agreed. After a few minutes, he started to shift, feeling uneasy under the green stare of the With.

"What is it?" he asked her.

Ana shook herself, looking down at the loaf of bread she hadn't started to eat yet. A small smile formed on her lips.

"Nothing I... I am merely beginning to think... that I might have been wrong about you."

She looked up at him again.

"But it's just a guess for now."

Eldarion nodded, an encouraging smile on his lips.

"I hope I will turn this guess into a certitude," he said.

"We shall see quite soon, I'm sure."

Ana stood up, handing back her bread to Adhalan.

"I am not hungry, thank you. I think I will sleep now. I must leave before sunrise."

"Someone must go with you, wherever it is that you are heading to," Goin insisted again.

"Where are you going anyway?" Eldarion asked the Witch. "Why are you setting so much mystery around it?"

She looked intensely at him again. The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips as a thought crossed her mind.

"Well, if you want so much to know, perhaps you could be my bodyguard?" she said, an amused smile now perfectly shaping her lips.

Eldarion did not hesitate for a second.

"Of course I will come with you."

"Good, it's settled then."

The Witch walked out of the cave, and went sitting outside, next to the waterfall. She looked up at the stars that were slowly appearing into the sky, fluttering memories that reminded her of a past she hoped to forget one day.

She didn't need to turn around to recognize the sound of Adhalan's steps coming her way.

"Are you certain?" Adhalan asked her friend bluntly, standing next to her and peering down at her with eyes full of doubt. "About bringing the child with you."

"He is no child, Adhalan," Ana answered, not detaching her gaze from the dark sky.

"He looks like one," the Elf replied.

"Let's hope you are wrong, my friend. We need no child on this journey."

"I could come with you..."

But the Witch shook her head.

"We need to get along," she said. "I... For the sake of this mission, I need to learn to trust him, or to know him better at least."

Adhalan nodded.

"I guess you are right, but you could..."

"It will be a good thing for us to be together for a few days, alone I mean. I will try not to strangle him out of annoyance..."

"If he is not able to defend himself..."

Ana stood up, shaking her head.

"Strider would have never sent his son if he did not think he was able to look after himself. And Aragorn is one of the best swordsmen in Middle-Earth. I am sure he taught his son everything there is to know about fighting... and surviving."

"I hope you are right..."

"I hope so myself. Anyway, you should not be worried. I am not planning on taking any risks this time."

"And what are you planning on doing then?"

Ana looked at the wild lands before her once more.

"Many things indeed..."

********************************************

He started when he was torn away from his dreams by the feeling of a hand touching his upper-arm. He had been dreaming about his mother. He kept dreaming about his family ever since he had left the White City. He had seen her standing there, under the White Tree in full bloom, white petals falling on her dark hair. She was turning around, smiling at him, when he had been awakened.

"It's time to go," Ana told him.

He cleared his throat, managing to open both his eyes simultaneously, and nodded. He sat up quickly, and hurried to get ready.

He knew they needed to get along. For the sake of the mission, they needed to trust each other. If his life was at stake, he needed to know she would be there for him, and he needed to show her that he would be there for her as well. But there was more to it... He felt drawn to her somehow. He felt like he needed to know her better, that he needed to understand her, that... It was a very strange feeling he didn't know how to name. He felt like it was somehow his destiny to fight by her side.

He was torn away from his thoughts when the Witch talked to him again.

"Are you ready then?" she asked.

He nodded, and followed her outside.

"Where are we going then?" he asked as they reached the muddy ground.

A fresh breeze blew across the forest, making the branches bend slightly, the leaves whispering secrets of their own. Ana turned towards the man by her side.

"I want to go see a friend first. Then, we will have to check something."

"What is it?"

They started to walk away from the waterfall, and deeper into the woods.

"After the Ring of Power was destroyed," Ana said softly, slowly, her voice low, "Mordor fell. What Sauron had darkened died and disappeared with the Evil Master who had created them. But the shadows that lay on these lands will never really disappear. The earth has known too much evil for too long to forget. That's why beasts and trees still refuse to go there, just like men of Gondor flee before these Mountains."

"I do not understand why we have to go there," Eldarion admitted, his heart tightening in his chest at the thought of going in those desolated parts of Middle-Earth.

"Evil men live there. They remained near Nurn after the fall of Sauron, or came there after he was destroyed, no one really knows. They are far away, and I doubt that their eyes are turned towards Gondor. But I heard that some had come to what was once Minas Morgul. I need to know if these rumours are true."

Eldarion nodded.

"And you think that only the two of us will be enough to deal with them?"

"I do not intend to fight, merely to take a look at whatever is going on there."

Eldarion nodded again.

"I see. But we won't be there until tomorrow noon, at least."

"I guess you will have to bear my presence for longer than you thought."

"I do not dislike your company. As long as you do not try to insult me."

"I do not insult you. I'll try to make more efforts."

"And I will try to make some as well."

Ana looked at him again. Her pace was slow now. Eldarion even thought that she did not want to go see this old friend of hers. He wondered if this person was really friendly to her, or if she had used sarcasm.

"Did your father taught you the way of the Rangers of the North?" she asked him.

Eldarion nodded.

"Some at least," he answered.

"What about scouting?"

"I can be silent enough, if this is the sense of your question."

"It is."

"You can be reassured then. I know how to walk through the woods without being heard."

"Good. We will need this skill of yours."

Suddenly, there was no canopy above them. Eldarion looked up at the sky, black infinite stained with balls of cold lights. He finally realized that they had arrived to one of the roads that crossed Ithilien. The wind was stronger now, and was making the leaves sing in a hushed and trembling whisper that accompanied their walk through the wild.

"If I may ask..." Eldarion said after a long silence. "Why did you guide us to Henneh AnnÃ»n, if you wanted to go to Minas Morgul? We could have crossed the Anduin at Osgiliath, and pass by the Cross-roads."

She seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, and she tried to ignore his question. But he insisted. Birds were already singing the song of the coming morning, and the crickets were louder than ever around them.

"It would have not been very discreet to accompany the Prince of Gondor throughout Osgiliath, don't you think?" she answered. "Someone would have recognized you, that is certain."

"You could have saved us such a detour though, even if you did not desire to take us through Osgiliath."

"I did not want the others to know where we are going," she confessed.

"Why?"

She stared at him for a while, before finally answering.

"Because they would not have let me go there," she answered.

He forced her to stop and to look up at him in the eyes.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

But his tone was not angry. He sounded curious, nothing more.

"I guess... that you will find out by yourself sooner or later," she replied elusively.

He could hear sadness in her voice. She was expecting him to insist, but he merely nodded instead, and they resumed their walk down the road. As they didn't walk in the wet grass and the bushes anymore, they were walking much faster, though Eldarion couldn't help but notice that the Witch wasn't walking as fast as she could have. The sun was slowly rising above them, and as they marched closer to Ephel Duath, Eldarion suddenly realised that there was no sound around them anymore, but the thud noise of their footsteps on the dirt.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Present days

Minas Tirith

"So... you had barely left the White City that you were already wasting your time!"

The Master of Lake Town could not hold back his irritation any longer. He had not yet forgiven the Guard for what had happened in his City a few years before, and he was still especially bitter over the Prince of Gondor.

"I have to say that I do not understand much about your story," Eomer said softly.

Eldarion shrugged.

"You asked me..."

But he was interrupted by the opening of the great doors behind him. He couldn't refrain a smile as he distinguished the silhouettes of three hobbits hurrying behind two guards of the Citadel. They hurried towards the King of Gondor, who had stood up from his comfortable chair.

"I am sorry your Highness..." one of the guard stuttered. "But they insisted on seeing you now."

"Do not be sorry, they were expected to arrive today," the King reassured his guard, before warmly greeting his old friends.

Finally noticing the Prince sitting in the middle of the room, Merry, Pippin and Sam suddenly abandoned Aragorn and hurried to join Eldarion. A part of the Kings and Lords gathered in the Hall rolled their eyes, except for those who knew the hobbits well, and those Lords merely smiled at the sight of the hobbits all hugging the young man.

"How are you?" Merry asked him, concern painted all over his face. "Are they treating you right?"

Eldarion let an amused smile appear on his lips.

"We are in the Halls of my father, Merry. Do you really think that they would hurt me in any way? At least before the trial has ended?"

Pippin and Sam turned their outraged faces towards the assembly.

"You should all be ashamed!" Pippin said, his voice shaking with anger. "How can you think for just a second that Eldarion could murder someone?!"

"I warn you, if anyone tries to hurt this lad, he shall have me and the entire Shire to deal with!" Sam warned the Kings who sat before him.

Eldarion couldn't help but chuckle. He put a soothing hand on the hobbits' shoulders.

"My friends, do not worry about me. I am certain all this will be sorted out just fine. Why don't you take a seat, instead of shouting warnings to these mighty lords?"

"Mighty lords or not, I dare any of them to try to get close to you," Pippin said firmly.

He turned towards Aragorn, his infuriated expression still painted on his face.

"And you can be sure that you shall not have any pipe weed or any goods coming from the Shire as long as your son has not been released. We are closing our borders and stopping all commercial alliances with your Kingdom, in a gesture of protest against this whole big joke that this trial is!"

Aragorn was left speechless. He was struggling to decide if he ought to get angry or to laugh.

"Pippin, please. There is no need for such extreme decisions," Eldarion tried to soothe the hobbit.

"Why would you not take a seat?" Aragorn said slowly, still aghast. "We were only at the beginning of Eldarion's tale."

The look he threw to his son made the Prince's heart break. It seemed that his father had learnt many things about his son's journey, and Eldarion knew much of them were lies. But he doubted now that his father would believe him if he denied the stories the King had heard, and it was breaking his heart.

The hobbits walked towards the chairs that were brought for them next to Elessar, and they remained quiet for a while, and let the trial continue, though Aragorn knew that he would have to deal with new outbursts from his friends before the day was ended.

"So... you were saying that you walked with the Witch for a few days, after you had reached Ithilien. " Faramir said, bringing back the attention of the Lords gathered in the Hall of Minas Tirith onto the young man sitting before them, "You said you were heading towards Minas Morgul."

At the mention of the dreadful fortress, Sam winced, but he didn't speak a word.

"Indeed, we walked together, following the ancient road," the Prince answered. "We did not come across anyone on our journey, it was just the two of us all along. I cannot say that it was a most pleasurable journey, as we still had troubles in our partnership, but we managed to remain courteous all along."

"I have heard that you and the Witch were quite close friends though," Aldir said in a frozen voice.

The Prince of the Easterlings, the man who was accusing Eldarion of murder, had not yet spoken since the trial had begun. He had merely stared at Eldarion, glowered at him, but he had not spoken a word yet. Eldarion merely looked cautiously at him, sitting a bit straighter on his stool.

He knew why Aldir was saying this... And he was not ready to talk about the nature of his relationship with the Witch. It was a way too complicated relationship indeed.

"We became much closer with this journey in Ithilien, actually," Eldarion answered, weighing the meaning of every single one of his words.

"And what about this friend of hers? Did you find him?" Eomer asked.

Eldarion nodded slowly, and he seemed rather sad for a moment. He seemed reluctant at talking about what they had seen in Ithilien together.

"We have indeed."

"And? Who was he?" Eomer insisted as the Prince didn't seem to be willing to pursue.

Eldarion looked up at the King of Rohan.

"We arrived at the Cross-Roads," he said slowly. "He was there."

"He was waiting for you?"

Eldarion stared intensely into the King's glance, and it was obvious that it required much of his strengths to let the words pass his lips. All could see that he had never talked about this to anyone before.

"I would not say it like this, your Highness..." Eldarion said slowly. "Though, I guess you can say that he had been waiting for many years..."

"I do not understand," Faramir admitted.

Eldarion looked at him.

"There was no one there. No one came back to live in those lands after the War, not so closely to the Mountains. There was nothing there. Nothing... but a tomb."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five years earlier

Ithilien

What he first noticed was the statue of the King. The head of the leader had been replaced once by a rough sketch of the Great Eye, but after the fall of Barad-dur, after the lands of Ithilien had been freed from the Enemy's servants, the statue had been cleaned and repaired, and the proud figure was standing sternly above the Cross-Road again, keeping a careful watch upon the roads. Eldarion was suddenly feeling uncomfortable, as if something terrible had happened there. There was no sound at all around them, they were too close to the dark mountains, and even the trees seemed to start to get less and less tall, less green, less welcoming. He felt like he was not wanted in this land.

"You may wait for me here, I must go alone from now on. I will come back for you, and we shall go to Minas Morgul together," Ana suddenly told him.

Eldarion frowned.

"Why should I remain behind?"

"Why? Are you afraid of remaining here on your own?" she tried to escape from his question.

But the man was not fooled.

"You still do not trust me at all, do you?"

"I thought we had agreed to remain courteous."

"I am being courteous. It is obvious though that your behaviour towards me is still unchanged. Why can I not come with you?"

She turned around to face him, but he didn't find the anger he was expecting to see on her graceful face. Instead, she seemed sad, suffering even, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft and gentle.

"I need to go alone. I am not going to be in danger. I just need to do this on my own. And it has nothing to do with my trust in you. Please, do not insist for coming with me."

How could he say no to these infinite green eyes when they seemed so sad...?

"Alright," he nodded slowly, his tone matching hers as he spoke in a warm and low voice. "But I do not feel comfortable here. These lands are still ravaged by sorrow and grief. A shadow still lays on this part of Ithilien. I do not wish to leave you alone for too long."

An amused smile appeared on her lips.

"What now... Are you worried about me?" she asked, an amused glint alit in her eyes.

He gently smiled.

"I guess it is my role here, is it not? Am I not supposed to be your bodyguard?"

She let out a wave of laughter, and the whole world around them seemed to be much brighter than before, as if the darkness that had remained there for years were momentarily chased away. He guessed that it was one of her powers as a Witch.

"I shall give you twenty minutes," Eldarion said more seriously. "If you are not back by then, I will come looking for you."

"It may take longer than twenty minutes," Ana protested.

"Then I guess I shall meet this friend of yours after all."

Ana nodded, defeated. She knew he was too stubborn, she would not change his mind. He was like his father on this point...

"Alright then. I shall see you in twenty minutes."

And without another word, she turned around, left the road, and walked through the trees, leaving Eldarion behind, standing alone in the middle of the Cross-Road, the stern figure of the king of stone watching him.

********************************************

After twenty minutes he couldn't take any more of it. A terrible feeling was tightening his throat, crushing his heart under his ribs. He felt like he was watched, he imagined spying eyes in every shadows, whispering voices in every hushed sound of the breeze. Though the sun was shining quite brightly still, it seemed pale and the rays of sunshine were cold on his skin. He now understood why this part of Ithilien was still avoided by the men of his Kingdom. There was a shadow clouding the warmth of the sun...

He advanced towards the trees behind which the woman had disappeared. His father had taught him how to follow the traces of someone in the wilderness, and without any difficulty, he followed the path the Witch had taken. It took him almost ten minutes to find her again. And he remained frozen on the spot when he saw her silhouette kneeling on the ground.

There was no one with her. She was alone, kneeling there, her back to him, in the middle of a clearing. It was a mere circle of dry grass, with no flowers nor bushes, as if the land had been burnt by a fire a few weeks before. Eldarion could feel in his heart that something terrible had happened there...

The Witch was motionless, her head down, she looked like she was praying. The Prince of Gondor immediately regretted to have come there. He should have left her alone, he could feel it, although he couldn't understand what the woman was doing there, kneeling still on the grass. He took a step back, willing to disappear and to wait for her a few meters away. But he stopped at the sound of her voice.

"There is no need for you to go," she said softly. "I was about to leave anyway."

"I did not mean to interrupt you..." the Prince said, uncomfortable.

She stood up, but remained still for a moment, her back to him. Eldarion caught the sound of a whisper, and a few seconds later, a single white rose grew at the Witch's feet. She then turned around to face him.

He could not help but notice her reddened eyes, though when she spoke again her voice was firm and neutral.

"You can ask, you know?" she said. "I know you must be dying to ask about what I was doing."

He intensely stared at her for a while, before slowly shaking his head.

"I do not think you would like to talk about this," he said, his voice gentle.

It was her turn to intensely stare at him.

"It's kind of you," she whispered.

He merely shrugged in answer.

"Are you certain that you do not need more time on your own?" Eldarion asked kindly. "I can wait for you at the Cross-Roads if you wish."

She shook her head, walking to him.

"No, there is no need. But thank you for offering."

"Let's go then."

He made a movement to turn around and go, but she stopped him. They stared at each other for a moment, and she opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head.

"You can tell me when you trust me," Eldarion shushed her.

She gave him a small smile, and nodded, before following him through the trees, heading towards the road once more.

*******************************************

Eldarion looked cautiously over the rock behind which he was hiding. The smell of rotting meat was making him sick. He had more and more difficulties to control his nausea. The dark earth seemed like burnt, and the dust it created was making his throat dry. His eyes were stinging as he struggled to pierce the thick veil of darkness before him, and was at the same time blinded by the intense light of the fire that burnt a few meters before him. The dark ruins of Minas Morgul that stood above and around him were freezing his blood in his veins. It was hard for him to control the shakiness in his hands and the rhythm of his breathing. All he wanted to do was leave this place as fast as possible. He could feel the evil that still lingered in every rock, in every broken wall, every burnt piece of wood, even the air was filthy and burnt his throat. He just wanted to run away from there. But he knew he couldn't...

He felt Ana shifting next to him.

"What can you see?" she whispered.

He started to silently count.

"Nine men," he whispered. "All armed."

"Only nine?"

"There are two dogs as well."

"I guess it must explain the smell..."

"Yes, they are eating some rotten meat."

"And the men?"

"They are talking, but I cannot hear anything from here."

She remained silent for a moment, before asking him one more question.

"Are you sure that there are only nine men?" she asked, still partly lost in thought.

"I can see only nine of them," he nodded. "But perhaps there are more hiding somewhere."

"Well, take a better look then," she said.

He glared at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"You have elven blood running in your veins," she said. "You have a much better sight than I do."

He frowned slightly, but took another look over the rock anyway, taking care at remaining safely hidden.

"I cannot see any more men."

She looked intensely at him.

"But what does your instinct say?" she asked.

He furrowed his brow.

"I am afraid I do not understand the meaning of your words, Ana."

She heaved a sigh.

"The blood of the Rangers of the North and the blood of the elves run through your veins. You must trust your instinct. You must see with more than your eyes."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Now, how many men are out there?" she asked again. "Only nine? Are you sure?"

He looked at the men before him again. They were laughing loudly, drinking alcohol. Their clothes seemed to have been worn for too many winters.

"Come on, think," she said softly. "If you cannot see everything, then guess what is hidden to your eyes."

But Eldarion could not see anything more, and the educative tone of the Witch was beginning to annoy him.

"Why do you not take a look yourself?" he asked.

She could hear the annoyance in his tone. He was surprised to say the less when he felt her hand resting on his forearm in a soothing gesture.

"If you want to survive into the Wild and into the strange lands where we will wonder, you must learn to listen to every part of you. You must listen to the man, but also to the elf."

He looked at her for a moment, before focusing on the group of rogue men before them. He finally noticed swords leaning against a wooden chest. It was too dark for him to distinguish how many there were...

"I need the elf now, Eldarion," she whispered, her voice soft and gentle. "Look."

He narrowed his eyes, and despite the darkness, he could barely distinguish the sheath... But he could count after a while.

One, two, three...

A man passed before the weapons to pour himself another glass of wine.

Seven, eight, nine...

The dogs started to bark loudly. He could hear their breathing from afar. It seemed to him that he could have almost understood the words the men spoke.

Ten, eleven, twelve.

"There are twelve swords," he whispered.

Ana nodded.

"They're not all there then."

Eldarion shook his head, still staring at the scene before him. She could hear his breathing quickening.

"Are you alright?" she asked, suddenly worried.

She was afraid she would have pushed him too much too quickly. They had left the White City only ten days before...

"Something is coming towards us," he whispered, turning towards the Witch. "I can hear it coming."

"From where?" she asked.

"Behind you."

She turned around, just in time to see a man appearing a few meters away from her.

The man growled. He was around forty, tall and strong. She could smell from where she stood the intense odour of sweat coming from him. A long rapier was fastened to his belt, and she distinguished several rings around his fingers, all made of gold. Comparing to his old and worn-out coat, they seemed out of place. She guessed he had stolen them somewhere. He looked like a dangerous criminal after all...

"Who are ya?" he asked in a rough and raspy voice.

He withdrew his sword from its sheath, and Ana could hear the men gathered around the fire standing up and calling for their comrades. Eldarion and the Witch stood up as one man, and when the man rushed towards them they were both ready to welcome him, their swords at the ready.

Eldarion opened his mouth to speak. He wanted to talk to them, to tell them they were not seeking any trouble, that they wished them no harm... but before a single sound could pass his lips, the man had jumped before them and Ana was dodging a powerful strike of his sword. Eldarion took a deep breath, turning towards the rest of the men who were hurrying towards them already.

He knew there was no place for words from now on.

His father had always repeated the same advice when it came to fighting: he needed to empty his mind. There was no time for thoughts on a battle field. Only actions and reactions. So he took a deep breath, and chased away from his brain the blurring smokes of thoughts that had gathered in his mind.

And the rest was all his father had advised him: actions and reactions.

A sword coming on his right: he blocked it with his own blade. A fist flying his way, aiming for his head: he bent down to avoid the punch. And again, and again, actions were analysed and reactions were set in motion at such a speed that his brain could not understand all the information that were coming. Eldarion's body was working on reflexes.

When he pierced the chest of a man, Anduril plunging all the way between two ribs, Eldarion did not understand what his gesture would mean. He had only reacted and repeated the movements he had learned and practiced hundreds of times in Minas Tirith. And his attention was driven away so quickly from the man by another enemy coming on his right that he did not even understand what he had done when he pulled out his long blade, now darkened and drenched with blood, and that his eyes saw the red liquid flowing out of the man's mouth and chest. His eyes saw, but were already looking somewhere else. And he turned towards the next man he had to face.

The only feeling he was really aware of was the presence of the Witch behind him, her back touching his. And it was enough to ground him into reality. Until he could not feel her warmth against his back anymore...

Indeed, one of the thugs had managed to hit her hard on the head, making her fall to the ground in a thud. Her vision was blur and her head was spinning for a moment, long enough for the man to pull her by the hair and to make her let go of her sword. She let out a cry of pain trying to hold her hair to ease the violent tugging. But before he could pull her up completely, the hold of the man disappeared from her hair, and she had just enough time to see Eldarion's sword sway into the air, cutting the man's throat, blood gushing all around him. He fell in a thud, the low groan that passed his lips mingling with the sounds he made as he struggled to breathe, drowning in his own blood. She looked up at Eldarion as he knelt down next to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, worry painted all over his handsome face. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

"I'm fine," she said. "What about you?"

"I am unhurt," he said.

Slowly, he calmed down, his heart slowing down, his thoughts coming back to his mind as the adrenaline slowly dissipated from his veins. The first thing he could register as his brain began to work again, was the blood that stained the woman's brow.

"You're bleeding," he said.

She swept the blood away.

"It's merely a scratch," she reassured him.

He nodded slowly, and finally noticed the blood that was softly gleaming on his sword. He turned two wide eyes towards the scene around him. And he finally realized what had happened... and what he had done.

He stared intensely at the man that laid next to them, his hand still pressed upon his cut throat, on a last, desperate gesture to earn a few more precious seconds of life before Death could take him away. Eldarion's vision suddenly became very blur.

He did not start this time when the Witch gently put her hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

He could hear worry in her voice, but he couldn't gather the strength to look away from the man he had killed. He could not tear away his gaze from the hand still clasping desperately, though the blood was only slowly flowing out of the wound by now. He was transfixed by these two dark eyes, wide with shock and terror; he was transfixed by the blood, the blood everywhere that made the dark earth steam...

"Eldarion."

She shook him this time, and he forced himself to nod his head.

"What?" he answered in a voice so hoarse that he could barely recognize it as his own.

"Look at me."

She forced him to turn his attention towards her again, but the second his gaze met her deep green eyes, he stood up, and staggered for a few steps, not knowing in which direction he was heading, only knowing that he could not let anyone see him like this. Lost. Guilty. Desperate...

"Eldarion, wait!"

"I need to be alone for a minute," he managed to mutter.

But she took his arm again, and forced him to turn around.

"It was the first time you killed, wasn't it?" she asked slowly, her tone kind and gentle.

Her graceful fingers gently stroking his upper arm was the most reassuring gesture anyone had ever had towards him. He finally gathered enough strength to hold her stare.

"Yes," he answered in a shaking whisper. "I had never... killed before."

She nodded, a reassuring smile curving up her lips.

"Well, you are dealing with it much better than I did," she smiled. "I threw up the first time I killed a man."

A small smile appeared on his lips.

"Actually, I am fighting very hard not to throw up right now."

Her smile widened.

"It's normal."

He nodded, but it only made his head spin faster.

"You should sit down for a moment," she advised him.

A few meters away, the dogs had abandoned their rotten meat for the corpses of their former masters. Eldarion could hear their sharp teeth shattering bones and flesh as they ate.

"I'm fine," he said.

He cleared his throat, and drank a gulp of water from his gourde.

"We should take a look at their camp," he said, nodding towards the dying fire.

Ana nodded, picking up her sword from the ground.

"Let's go then."

He followed her towards the fire, where only a few blazes were still fighting to burn into flames. She strode directly towards the wooden chest, and quickly opened it. It was full of jewels and weapons.

"Thieves?" Eldarion asked.

She nodded.

"I do not think that they belong to the men of Rhun. They must have merely found shelter here."

She pushed the shining jewels and the daggers away, clearly looking for something...

"What are you looking for?" the man by her side asked.

"Papers," she answered, "letters, notes...Â anything that could help us put a name on their faces."

Eldarion looked around him, but there was nothing but the fire and the chest in the camp that could have hold documents of any kind.

Ana finally found a folded piece of parchment, and she handed it to Eldarion as she resumed her search in the chest. Eldarion unfolded the note.

It was nothing more than a few words written in a hurry. The parchment was dirty and he could recognize the letters traced in dark ink. Though he had not learned this language, he knew enough about the War to recognize the alphabet...

"It's Black Speech," he said gloomily. "I cannot read it though."

Ana finally gave up her search, heaving a sigh and hoping that the note would give her the information she was looking for.

"You do not know the tongue of Mordor?" she asked.

He shook his head, handing her back the note.

"I guess it is one of the first things we should teach you," Ana said, taking back the dirty piece of paper. "I have to say that I am quite surprised that your father has not taught you this language himself."

"He made me learn many tongues of Men, Dwarves and Elves," Eldarion answered. "But not the tongues of Orcs."

She looked up at him.

"One should know his enemies even better than he knows his friends," she said.

She started to read the note, and a worried expression appeared on her face.

"What does it say?" Eldarion asked.

"Trouble," she answered, a worried expression on her face. "Lots and lots of trouble. It says that these men were to bring a message of peace to the men of Nurn. It says that G was grateful for their trust, and that he would pay them in Angarad."

"Angarad? It is a city in Rohan, is it not?"

The Witch merely nodded.

"And what about this 'G'? Who is he?" Eldarion asked.

"Well... If we could answer this question, we could probably all come home here and now."

She folded back the letter and put it safely in her pocket.

"I have heard of him several times. I do not know who he is," she added.

She looked at the dogs for a moment as they ate one of the thieves. But Eldarion could guess that she was not seeing them.

"Is he responsible for all the unrest in the East?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she answered with a shrug.

She suddenly turned a worried glance towards him.

"We should go. If these men were expected, the news of their death will soon be brought to the ears of the men they were to meet."

"We should bury them," Eldarion protested.

Her gaze softened, and she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder again.

"We don't have time for that. We must go, and we must go now. Leave them here. The dogs will take care of the bodies, if they are not found soon enough."

He looked at her with eyes full of shock, but she ignored him, and he followed her as she left the camp, heading back towards Ithilien the way they had come. He did not notice it, but Ana took great care at erasing any trace of their presence as they walked away from the camp. Not a trace of their footsteps remained on the dusty ground, and she checked the camp and the bodies quickly one last time before leaving, making sure they didn't leave any clue that could reveal their identity if someone found the ravaged camp.

She was playing at a very dangerous game with an adversary she didn't know. A very dangerous game indeed...

************************************************

They walked restlessly for several hours, even if both of them were exhausted. The fear in the Witch's eyes was enough to force Eldarion to take one step after another, despite his stinging eyes. He was still holding his sword in his hand, just in case some kind of enemy would suddenly jump out of the shadows, and the now dried blood was darkening his blade. It was late, the moon was already high in the sky, above the treetops that covered the shining stars. Far away, clouds were darkening the sky even more, and in the shadows of the night, distant flashes of light accompanied the crashing of thunderbolts upon the trees. They had not stopped for a minute, they had not eaten anything either, and both their stomachs were craving for food. Their legs were painful and longed for rest, but Ana was too scared of being found to stop walking. Behind her, Eldarion walked in silence, not complaining about the long rush through the forest she was imposing on him. He was merely following her, his sword in his hand, and she knew he was listening to every sound of the night.

Finally, they came to a point when none of them could walk anymore. They stopped at the first shelter they found, a little cavern, only two or three meters deep. It was a little, confined, wet hole in a hill, but above their heads, the dark clouds were coming closer and closer every second, and soon the thunder would have reached them and covered them with its heavy rains, and any shelter seemed better than to sleep under the stars. The cavern was just large enough for them to light up a fire and to sit at the back of the cave. They hurried to gather dry wood, and Ana merely had to blow on the twigs to light up the fire. Soon, it was raining outside of the little cave, whilst Ana and Eldarion warmed their hands to the fire. They ate in silence, trying to get warm as the rain had brought coolness to the night.

Ana was carefully examining the silent Prince who was eating next to her. She could see that, despite his obvious hunger, he had to struggle to swallow every one of the mouthful of bread he took. She could see in his eyes this feeling he was trying so hard to hide : the horror to see Death in the eyes, to stare at this ghost and to survive to this meeting by losing your soul. She had had the same look in her eyes once. But now, Death was like an old friend of hers, never too far from her path, though never meeting her to take her away.

But Death had taken so many of her friends away...

"You should clean your sword," Ana told the Prince, nodding towards the man's blade that laid unsheathed on the ground next to him.

Eldarion nodded slowly. He gave up at trying to eat any more food, even if his stomach was still painful with hunger. His throat was too tight, the lump too big to accept food anyway. He took his sword and a piece of fabric, but when he rested the cloth upon the blade, he found himself unable to clean the cold metal. He felt like all the blood on the blade was on his own hands.

Ana saw him clenching his jaw.

"Thank you, by the way," she whispered.

Her voice was barely audible above the sound of the falling rain outside the cave. Eldarion looked up at her, and she held his stare, though she seemed slightly uncomfortable.

"You saved my life," she said. "Thank you."

Eldarion nodded slowly.

"There is no need to thank me for such a thing."

She let out a little laugh.

"Actually, I reckon that it is the best reason to thank someone," she replied.

They exchanged a small smile. Eldarion's hand was still clenching at the cloth, perfectly motionless.

"I guess... I should apologize as well," Ana added.

Eldarion raised an eyebrow, still staring at the Witch.

"Why?" he asked softly.

They stared at each other for a moment, two motionless figures before the dancing flames of the fire and the falling raindrops of the storm that raged outside. But it seemed like none of them could hear neither the thunder of the storm, nor the cracking of the blazes, they merely stared intensely into the other's eyes... and soul.

"I think..." she said softly, slowly. "I think I may have misjudged you."

Eldarion gave her a forgiving smile.

"Well... Apologies accepted," he smiled. "I think... I think we should start all over again, don't you?"

Ana smiled back at him.

"It sounds quite fair indeed."

She offered him her open hand.

"Friends?"

He shook her hand, with a wide smile on his lips. He had not had such an earnest smile since the attack on the camp.

"Friends," he nodded.

But when he let go of her hand, he was still unable to wash the red blood that stained the blade that rested on his laps. She could read in his eyes that an intense battle was raging inside of him. One part wished to be strong, and to overcome what had happened at Minas Morgul, like he would have overcome a nightmare that had haunted his sleep. But the other part couldn't forget. The other part kept his mind full with visions of the scene, with all this blood flowing and splashing and fuming and... all this death around him. And all this blood he was seeing, he saw it also on his hands, covering his palms, and fingers, and nails, like a ghostly layer of invisible proof left by his mind that was there to remind him what he had done, who he had become... He had killed. And though he had defended himself, and defended Ana, in his mind, he saw no difference between himself and these men, these outlaws he had killed. His conscience tortured him. In his own eyes, he was nothing but a murderer.

And Ana knew this feeling, and remembered it enough to know how much he suffered now.

"When I went alone at the Cross-Roads..." she started. "I guess I can tell you now, that we'll try to be friends..."

She stopped, and before she spoke again, Eldarion interrupted her, his voice warm, though shaking slightly.

"You do not have to tell me. I understand, if it is something... you prefer to keep private..."

"I think I can tell you. I trust you not to say all this to the others though. They will worry if they know where we went."

Eldarion nodded.

"You have my word."

She locked her gaze upon the dancing flames, encircling her knees with her arms.

"Before the War, when there was still a shadow in the East... I lived for a while in Gondor. It was when Denethor was still Steward, and Faramir was not even Captain by then. I lived in a little village, near the Anduin. I healed people, mostly. Gandalf was away by then, I don't know where he was exactly all these years... Anyway, there was this little boy... Her mother had died several years before after falling from her horse, and when I arrived into the village, his father was very sick. There was nothing I could do. They were poor and... they didn't have the money to go see a healer, and he had not been treated. When he died, his son was just ten. He was just a child, without any family, with nowhere to go... I couldn't leave him alone. So I decided to take care of him, to raise him like his parents would have done if they had not died too soon. I remained there for six years. But then the War began..."

He could see tears shimmering in her eyes, melted in the expression of anger and rage, of sorrow and grief.

"First I had to go with Gandalf, when the Ring of Power was found to be Bilbo's old ring he had taken from Gollum. Whispers of battles could be heard here and there, and we were becoming rather scared... I helped your father seeking for Smeagol. But as we could not find him, Gandalf sent me to watch over the Ring Bearer. The East and the Wild Lands were not safe anymore. It was around the time when Elrond called back your mother to Imladris. I remained for a few years in the Shire, watching over Frodo. Then, the situation throughout the North became more and more critical, and I was attached to a group of Rangers in the North and the East, guarding the borders of the free kingdoms. Around the time that Gollum was taken by Aragorn, before Frodo was sent to Rivendell, I left, and went South again, mostly to help the soldiers to fight against the growing forces of Mordor, but also to spy on Sauron and his servants. I hadn't been back in years... For almost seventeen years I had fought and roamed across Middle Earth, and I knew what we were facing. I went to Ithilien, and offered my services to the Captain there."

"Faramir," Eldarion completed for her.

Ana nodded, her eyes still fixed on the flames, though she didn't seem to see them dancing before her.

"I have to say, that it was the last place on Middle-Earth where I expected to see him..." she went on, a small smile curving up her lips, though her eyes were still fogged with tears. "This boy I had raised like my own... He was there, much older. He was fighting under Faramir's command. We had been separated for years, but he still remembered me, and it felt... it felt like we had left each other only the day before. We fought for months in Ithilien, almost a year, until..."

A tear rolled down her cheek, tracing a glimmering line in its wake on the pale and soft skin of the Witch's face.

"I lost him for just a second. One moment he was next to me, but then I was punched, and the time that I could come back to my senses... It hadn't been longer than a second, a blink of an eye... but it was enough."

She swept a second tear away.

"There was nothing I could do. I merely had the time to take him in my arms, to hold him for a second, like I used to do when he was a child, and then... he died."

She sniffed.

"I always come back to the place where he died when I come to Ithilien, where he is buried, with all the men we lost that day. And I always make a flower grow. Adh... she thinks it's not good for me. That I'm hurting myself. But..."

"But it hurts even more if you don't go and see him," Eldarion finished for her.

She stared at him again, and he could see the flames reflected in her eyes reddened by her cries.

"I may be a Prince, I have lost people I loved as well," he answered to her questioning look. "Why are you telling me all this anyway?"

She shrugged.

"You don't have a choice but to share with me something very personal," she answered, and he knew perfectly well that she had guessed the battle that he was fighting against himself. "I thought it was much more... fair if I shared one with you."

He nodded slowly, clearly touched.

Â "I know what you're going through," she said softly, "I have fought, and killed, and hated myself for it, and thought of me like a monster for all this blood I could see on my hands. If you need to talk about this, I'm here."

He smiled, grateful.

"Thank you," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "But I'll be just fine... with a bit of time."

"Yes, of course you will," she nodded.

Slowly, almost unnoticeably at first, Eldarion's hand slipped down the blade, and he started to clean his weapon. Ana smiled.

"By the way," she said in a lighter tone. "If we are to be friends, I have to warn you, I hate long names like yours."

Eldarion couldn't help but laugh.

"My name is not that long."

"It's already too long for me," she replied. "It's not practical at all! Imagine on a battle field, if I want to call for you! I have to find a shorter nickname for you."

She thought for a moment.

"What about 'El'?" she proposed.

The Prince merely laughed again.

"It sounds quite good to me," he answered. "As long as you are the only one to use it, of course."

"That's a deal then."

She rested her back against the stone behind them, and covered herself with a warm blanket.

"You should try to sleep", she said when Eldarion had finished to clean his sword and had put it back in its sheath.

He shook his head.

"I'm not sleepy," he replied.

But in reality, he was fighting hard for his eyelids to remain open.

"El, you must sleep."

He heaved a sigh, but he couldn't deny his exhaustion. He leaned against the wall of stone as well, and wrapped a blanket around him. Ana extinguished the fire, and soon, they were surrounded with nothing but darkness and the sound of rain still falling upon the tall trees. After a while, Ana could feel that the man next to her was still awake.

"El, you must sleep."

"I know."

There was a moment of silence, before Eldarion would speak again. His tone was hesitant, almost sheepish.

"Ana? Does..."

He cleared his throat as she turned towards him.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight," he said. "I... I can't stop but..."

"You see their faces every time you close your eyes," she finished for him.

She distinguished through the shadows that he nodded. It was so much torture, such a fight against himself... His father had definitely not told him anything about this feeling when he had told him all the stories and glories of the wars of men.

"After a while, do you stop seeing them?" he asked the witch, and his voice was nothing more than a whisper. "When you close your eyes and fall asleep?"

She shifted.

"You learn to live with all this, El. You'll be alright."

"You didn't answer my question. Do they go away after a while?"

Ana closed her eyes.

"No, El. They never go away."

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