PROLOGUE

Kingdom of Arthedain, November 14th, 1946 T.A.

Fornost was in chaos.

Another attack by orcs and trolls made even the thick stone walls tremble, and citizens fled the streets of the city in utter frenzy, trying to dodge the rocks thrown over the wall. Even though they knew the wall would keep the monstrous creatures out, soldiers inside the city felt their grip on their swords become clammy.

The enemy had broken through Fornost's outer circle of defence, which had not happened before, and while the city had considerably more men, these orcs and trolls were strong and eager to destroy the last capital of Men in the West. Fortunately, Fornost was just as strong, perhaps even stronger, and was always able to drive the enemy away.

This time, it would be no different. Still, the King and Queen knew very well that a full-out attack on Fornost would not be a matter of 'if', but of 'when'. And it would be better to have Arnor's heirs out of the city when that happened.

Inside the castle up on the hill, on the north side of Fornost, preparations were made in haste. Maids sped through the broad halls to the kitchen, to the nursery and to the Crown Hall, fetching this and that by order of the King and Queen.

"Aranarth," the Queen called to her eight-year-old son and beckoned him over. "Aranarth, come."

Queen Fíriel crouched in front of her precious children, looking them both in the eyes with an urgency that made four-year-old Ariel shudder. "This is what is going to happen, children," she said with her voice clear as ever, putting a hand on each shoulder. "Lord Brychan is taking you both to Mithlond, where the elves are— where you will be safe. It is a dangerous journey and you need to listen to everything Lord Brychan says."

"I don't understand," Aranarth said, his brows furrowed in a confused frown, obscuring his big, blue eyes. "Why do we have to go?"

"I don't want to go, mommy," Ariel whined, a sob escaping her mouth as she threw herself around her mother's skirt. "I don't want to go!"

Queen Fíriel shook her head in sorrow as she stroked the top of Ariel's head, and probably only her husband would be able to read her face and see the underlying fear in her eyes. "I know you don't," she said and pulled both of them in for a tight hug. "I know, I know. But it's the only way to stay safe. Captain Dylis will go with you."

She pulled away and straightened Ariel's little cloak with a tug, smiling at her. Ariel just cried. Aranarth looked quizzically at his mother. The eight-year-old knew there were orcs and other monstrous creatures outside, but that had happened before. Did the North finally have the strength to bring down the forces of the West?

Footsteps resonated in the Hall and she stood up to watch her husband, Lord Brychan and his daughter Dylis stride in. Queen Fíriel squared her shoulders and pushed away all her fears, taking two packs the maids had put together. It would be a six days' ride, though the King had ordered them not to stop riding until they reached lake Evendim— except for a night's rest.

"Arms up," the Queen said to the children and put the packs on their backs.

"Are they ready, dear?" the King asked and placed a hand on her shoulder with a knowing, sad look.

The Queen placed her hand over his, looking back into his grey eyes lovingly. In all this chaos, those eyes offered her calm, they were her rock. She nodded quickly, and looked back at Aranarth and Ariel, who were steered to Lord Brychan and his daughter by their handmaidens. "They will be safe." She seemed to say it more to herself than to King Arvedui, but he nodded at her with an apologetic smile. "It is for the best," he said softly. "We have to be quick. I must go down to the city."

"I understand," Fíriel said, worry etching on her face even more. Her husband down there… as much as she knew this was his duty to the city, she much preferred him with her in the Healer's Houses. She turned to Lord Brychan. "Let us go to the stables."

With that, they all but ran down the hallways to the lower grounds where the stables resided, followed by Lord Brychan and his daughter, the latter holding Ariel in her arms. The Queen looked back and smiled a little. Ariel and Captain Dylis had developed a strong bond ever since Ariel first met her. Captain Dylis was to stay for a while with the heirs in Lindon, and her father would take over her duties to the city until she came back— hopefully with the elves' aid.

Even though Queen Fíriel and King Arvedui knew they had no choice but to be as fast as possible, it felt all too soon when Lord Brychan helped Aranarth mount their grey steed and Dylis did the same with Ariel. The little girl looked at her mother with wide eyes, tears threatening to fall down her face.

"Mommy… what is going on?"

Queen Fíriel smiled and reached out to hold her hand. She squeezed it. "You are going to see the elves, dear," she assured her. "And Captain Dylis cannot wait either, which is why you will ride fast." Only Dylis saw the pointed look the Queen gave her.

The mention of seeing elves made little Ariel lighten up a little bit and she looked up to Dylis, who nodded with a grin. She didn't see how forced the grin was.

As Queen Fíriel reassured her daughter, King Arvedui moved to his son, who did his best not to appear afraid. "Watch over your sister, son," the King said.

"Your mother and I shall write to you once we have word you are in Mithlond."

"Papa, I want to stay," Aranarth said softly.

"I know you do," Arvedui said sadly. "And so do I and your mother. Once it's safe, you and your sister will return. But first, my men and I must safe the city."

Aranarth looked at him with wide-eyed awe. "Will you defeat the monsters, papa?"

Arvedui smiled reached up to ruffle his hair. "For you, I will do anything in my power." He looked to Lord Brychan. "Take the Hill Pass past Evendim. We leave the Shire out of this."

"They are safe with us, Arvedui. We will protect them with our lives," he replied solemnly.

The King sent his friend a grateful smile. "I know," he said. He clasped his arm and gave him a nod. After giving Aranarth an encouraging smile, he went over to Ariel. "Hello, little princess," he spoke softly.

"Papa," she asked with big grey eyes, "are Aran and I really going to see the elves?"

Arvedui willed himself to chuckle and smile. "Yes, you are, princess," he said.

The girl smiled in wonder, but then pinched her eyebrows in confusion. "Why are you not coming?" she asked.

"Because I have to protect our city, sweetheart." He put a strand of her dark brown hair over her shoulder. She inherited that colour from her mother, and her light grey eyes little Ariel had from him. He looked into those grey eyes and held her tiny hands. "But I will see you soon."

She looked down at him and held up her little finger to him. "Pinkie promise?"

The King laughed softly and hooked his with hers. It was something they always did— or at least, she forced him to. "Pinkie promise," he relented.

Then he stepped back next to his wife. "We love you both," he said to Aranarth and Ariel. "Remember that. Be safe." He looked at Lord Brychan with a meaningful look and nodded. "Go."

And as the horses leapt out of the stables to the secret Hill Pass, Queen Fíriel turned to her husband and clutched his velvet cloak as she let tears stream down her face. King Arvedui held her tightly, barely keeping it all together as well. They stood this way until duty called for both of them.

Two hours later, Queen Fíriel was helping the nurses tend the wounded. This was why the citizens of Fornost loved and worshipped their queen: she never stayed within the castle walls to hide. That was not her. She rolled up her sleeves, wore a simple dress that looked like the ones the common people wore, and got to work. Fortunately, there were few mortally injured, and from what she and the nurses heard from those who were less wounded and were still able to speak well, Fornost was nearing victory.

Finally, the cry of victory was heard, and the horn was sounded. But Queen Fíriel could not put her heart at ease yet, for thoughts of her husband and her children quelled her mind.

She was just about to stitch a deep cut when a guard strode over to her.

"My Queen," he addressed with a bow, the look on his face troubled, "Lord Brychan requests your presence. It is urgent."

Fíriel's face paled. "They should not be here," she said, but more to herself. Her heart drummed in her chest, and concern and fear etched her countenance.

"Gwenda," she called. "Stitch this wound for me, will you?"

With that, she hastily walked out of the Healer's House. Outside, she saw Lord Brychan and Aranarth on their horse. She was almost relieved. Then she saw that Aranarth was crying. And there was only one horse. "Where is Ariel? Where is Captain Dylis?" she demanded, looking around.

They were not here. They were nowhere in sight. Only Aranarth and Brychan.

"I did everything that I could, my Queen," he began, head lowered in shame, but also to hide his own grief. "We were ambushed. One moment, they were there. The next moment, they vanished in plain sight. I could not be more ashamed…"

Queen Fíriel did not hear the rest. Her knees buckled and she vaguely saw—no, sensed someone hold her steady. The only word she heard over and over in her head was 'vanished'. Gone. Little Ariel, her little princess. Killed by orcs. She could not accept it.

She never accepted it, nor did King Arvedui when he came back from the front and heard the news. Years after years they sent out search parties all the way to Mithlond, to the Shire, to Bree, desperately trying to find both Ariel and Captain Dylis back. They even sent out spies to the North, but it was too dangerous to continue their search there. Every day, the King and Queen walked to the gates of Fornost, in the hopes their daughter and their high-esteemed Captain would return.

But they never saw them again.