Chapter 386: The Council in the Great Hall
Glug, glug, glug, glug, glug...
As a full cup of milk went down, Levi's vision finally cleared.
"You're awake."
A familiar, oversized face filled his view.
"Gandalf. What are you doing here?"
In a small room just outside the great hall, Levi sat up with one hand pressed to his head and shook it hard, as if he could rattle the last of the ale-fog loose.
"Hah. That was close. I almost actually passed out."
For him, drunkenness was a status effect that could be cleansed. The problem was that when the stacks got too high, the dizziness still hit like a hammer. Even he had his limits.
Truthfully, halfway through the contest,
he had already been so unsteady he could only brace himself against the chair. After that, his body simply ran on instinct. Pour. Drink. Pour. Drink. By the time Legolas and the others were talking, he had not even been able to hear what they were saying.
"I didn't think you could be this undisciplined," Gandalf said, rolling his eyes. "Look at me. I never drink too much. With ale, there must always be restraint."
"If other people heard you say that, they'd probably call you a killjoy," Levi said.
"Killjoy? That's not right. I didn't stop them."
"That is true."
Gandalf studied him for a moment, then his expression sobered. "You rested enough?"
"Perfectly."
"Good. Come to the great hall in a little while. We need to decide what we do next."
With that, Gandalf left first.
Left alone, Levi stretched, and for once he felt oddly refreshed.
Roadside Keep saw lively scenes like that at least once or twice a year, but this was the first time he had found himself swept into one somewhere else. In a strange way, it felt like a group outing.
By now the drinking had ended. Those who could sleep were sleeping, and those who needed rest had already collapsed into it.
But there were always a few who could not.
"Boromir?"
Near a small earthen rise, Levi looked up and spotted a solitary figure, shoulders slumped, the outline of a cloak heavy with gloom. The cut of it was unmistakable. In Rohan, there was no second man dressed like that.
"What's wrong?" Levi asked as he came up behind him. "You don't look very happy."
Boromir raised his head. Worry clung to his eyes, deep and stubborn, and the strain on his face refused to fade.
"I had a dream," he said hoarsely. "In it, Gondor was burning. Fire devoured the city. Darkness covered the earth. The walls fell, and the White Tree was broken…"
He swallowed, as if the taste of ash still clung to his tongue.
"It left me with a dreadful feeling."
Levi patted his shoulder. "You've carried a lot for a long time."
He nodded toward the fortress behind them. "Come on."
"Where?"
"To the great hall. We have things to discuss, and I have news to share."
...
Not long after, in the great hall, Levi delivered what he had learned to those gathered.
"The army that has been amassing within Mordor is moving south," he said. "They've crossed Ithilien, and their goal is Minas Tirith."
The room tightened at once, as if a rope had been drawn around every throat.
"And Pelargir is facing a major crisis. A vast fleet is sailing for it. Their intent is to take Pelargir first, then go straight to Minas Tirith and join the siege."
The danger sharpened into something immediate, something that could be counted in days rather than months.
Boromir sat with his head lowered, unable to keep still, as if every heartbeat was urging him to take flight. At last, he rose.
"I can't remain here," he said. "Gondor needs me. I must return to the front and fight. I cannot lose even a moment."
He looked around the hall, forcing himself into formality through clenched urgency.
"I apologize, but I must take my leave before the rest of you."
"Don't rush, Boromir."
As Boromir turned to go, Aragorn stepped out and blocked his path.
"Be patient. I will go with you," he said, voice steady. "Gondor will not fall."
It was only a few words, spoken gently, but the certainty in them was iron.
Boromir held Aragorn's gaze. Something in those eyes, steady and unyielding, pressed his frantic heart down, if only for the moment. At last, he turned back and returned to his seat.
When Boromir had settled again, Gandalf took over, continuing from where Levi had left off.
"The defeat at Helm's Deep showed the Enemy something he did not wish to see," Gandalf said. "That Men are not as fragile as he imagined. Even at a disadvantage, they still have the courage and strength to stand against him."
"He is restless. He is anxious. What is happening to Gondor proves it."
"He will throw everything into leveling Minas Tirith and breaking Gondor, before he can be forced into a true disadvantage."
Gandalf's gaze swept the hall.
"We do not have much time. Gondor must be warned, so they can prepare."
"I'll go," Boromir said at once, standing again. "I have to go back and defend my home."
"Going alone accomplishes nothing."
Aragorn, who had been turning something over in his mind since the council began, stopped him again.
"There is something else we can do."
This time, Boromir truly bristled. He turned, voice low but sharp, and spoke directly to Aragorn.
"What are you hiding? I can tell. From the moment this council began, you've been weighed down by something. Tell me what you're planning."
Aragorn did not evade him. "I intend to gather an army."
"What army?" Boromir demanded. "Rohan's? Or the Free City-States?"
"Neither."
Aragorn shook his head and stepped aside.
At the doors of the hall, two figures entered together at precisely the right moment.
Two Elves.
Elladan and Elrohir, twin sons of Elrond.
"Our father bids us deliver a message," one of them said.
The other spoke in measured, formal cadence. "Time is short. If you must ride in haste, do not forget the Paths of the Dead."
"The Paths of the Dead..." Boromir repeated, the name turning in his mind as memory searched for its place.
"I know of it," he said slowly. "They say that road is haunted by wandering spirits, Men of the Mountains who broke their oath. Under the curse of the kings of old, they can never find release."
He looked at Aragorn, understanding dawning with a chill.
"You mean the army you plan to summon is..."
Aragorn nodded once.
Boromir made his decision immediately. "Then it is too dangerous for you to go alone. I'm coming with you."
"And us," Gimli said, stepping forward. Legolas moved with him.
When it came to their companions, they did not hesitate to walk into peril together.
Aragorn smiled and said nothing. He did not need to.
"But Gondor..." Boromir began, turning back.
"I will handle Gondor," Gandalf said. "I will warn your father and urge him to prepare at once, though it may not be easy."
The council did not last long.
There was no time to waste. The moment decisions were made, everyone began to move.
Yet before Aragorn's company departed, there were still preparations to settle.
The reinforcements sent for him were not only Elrond's sons. With them had come a band of Rangers, thirty strong, a company dispatched specifically to aid Aragorn in what lay ahead.
They were called the Grey Company.
And their leader was...
"Halbarad?"
Levi, passing by the mustering line, stopped short and spoke the man's name.
"You came too?"
Halbarad lifted back his hood, revealing a weathered face marked by long roads and hard years.
"I learned of what was happening here from Rivendell," he said. "So I came with my people to support our chieftain."
"You're still keeping yourself hidden," Levi said, half amused.
"Some habits die hard," he said.
As the two spoke, Aragorn approached.
Halbarad stepped forward at once. "Entrusted by Arwen Undómiel, we have brought something."
He produced an item he had guarded carefully.
A banner.
A royal standard sewn by Arwen's own hands. It bore the sign of the High Kingship of Isildur, proof of Aragorn's identity and claim.
Aragorn reached out and touched the cloth, fingers gentle, a faint smile rising despite everything.
Then he looked to Halbarad. "Keep it safe for me."
By now, the two of them were no strangers.
In Aragorn's heart, Halbarad held uncommon weight. Part of that was Levi's influence, and part of it was the sixty years since Aragorn first went out into the wild to hone himself, years in which he and Halbarad had acted together more times than he could count, sharing danger and counsel, speaking long into the night.
From Halbarad, Aragorn had learned more of Levi's deeds, and in the process learned many things besides.
To Aragorn, Halbarad was not only kin. He was an elder worthy of trust, steady as stone.
That was why Aragorn was willing to let him bear the standard.