Guidepost – Comharra?slighe

  Rohan, July 13th, Year 67 F.A.**

  The letter from Sienna lay on my desk, the seal of Gondor unbroken. I had picked it up three times already without opening it. The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of Meduseld, bathing the room in golden light, yet I felt no warmth. Only that vague sensation of standing at the edge of a cliff I could not see.

  At last, I broke the seal. The letter was written in Gàidhlig, so reading it came easily.

  “To Her Majesty, Banrìgh Celebrian of Rohan.

  My mother, the Queen Dowager, and I thank you for your condolences. Eru Ilúvatar has led us both onto paths we cannot yet understand. The days of the closest family ties between our royal houses are now over. Still, I greet you as my greatly esteemed cousin and hope that our kingdoms may continue to exist in friendship and peace.

  Le dùrchad,

  Sienna.”

  I lowered the letter. Friendship. A word easily written. But I knew what it truly meant: Gondor no longer needed an alliance with us.

  A servant knocked.

  “Majesty, an Elf named Cadlaìgh requests an audience.”

  I looked up. An Elf? The surprise was so great that I was speechless for a moment. I remembered one of Mother’s last letters — she had mentioned an Elf, but I had not thought further about it. Most Elves had left Middle?earth after the War of the Ring, and the few who remained lived quietly, rarely interacting with Men. Every child knew that.

  Still — or perhaps because of it — I was curious.

  “Bring her to the small reception hall. And tell my husband he should be present.”

  The hall was decorated with the emblems of Rohan, the torches burning brightly. I sat on the throne, Théodred at my side, while the guards stood by the doors. The Elf entered, and I felt my breath catch. She was tall and beautiful. Her green travel dress was simple. A true Elf — something I would one day tell my grandchildren.

  She bowed deeply.

  “Majesty.” Her voice was clear as a mountain stream.

  “Cadlaìgh, is that correct?” I asked, my heart beating faster.

  “Yes, Majesty.” She lifted her head. “I ask forgiveness for arriving without announcement, but I thought it proper to introduce myself formally. I come from Gondor.” She smiled faintly. I felt Théodred tense beside me.

  “You have met my cousin?”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “And my aunt Tariél?” I asked suddenly. “Did you see her as well?”

  “Yes, Majesty. She is in mourning for her husband.”

  Tariél. My aunt, whom I had met only once at my coronation. I had accused her then of using my father’s death to secure a title from Rohan for Sienna. Now I regretted my suspicion. She did not always have to think of politics — unlike my mother.

  “Did she send you?”

  “No.” She stepped back. “I came of my own will.”

  Cadlaìgh bowed again. “I would like to stay in Rohan for a few days, if you permit it. The wide plains are beautiful.”

  “You are welcome,” I said. “Perhaps you will join us on a ride. I would like to hear more about your travels.”

  She bowed. “I would be honored, Majesty.”

  “Good. Come to the stables tomorrow morning.”

  “With pleasure. Thank you, Majesty.”

  Then she left the hall.

  Rohan, July 15th, Year 67 F.A.

  The morning sun hung low over the wide plains of Rohan as I mounted my horse. The cool air smelled of fresh grass and earth — a scent that always reminded me of my childhood. Cadlaìgh was already waiting on a slender white mare. She wore a simple travel outfit in green and brown, blending naturally into the landscape. When she saw me, she inclined her head.

  “Majesty.”

  “Cadlaìgh.” I smiled as Théodred joined us. She stroked her mare’s neck.

  Théodred turned to me. “Where are we riding?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “East,” I said, pointing into the distance.

  The plains stretched endlessly before us, golden in the morning light. My horse snorted softly as I loosened the reins and leaned back in the saddle. Théodred rode a few paces ahead, giving us space — as if he sensed I wanted to speak with Cadlaìgh alone. He had insisted that a handful of guards follow, but they stayed far enough back that we barely heard them.

  The Elf rode silently beside me. I had invited her on this ride for a reason — not because of Gondor, not because of politics, but because of a question that had been weighing on me.

  “Cadlaìgh.” My voice came out rougher than intended. “You met my aunt Tariél in Gondor.”

  She turned her head. “Yes, Majesty. I paid my respects to the King.”

  “How was she?” My fingers tightened around the reins. “My asking may seem strange to you, but she is my father’s sister. I saw her at my coronation last year.”

  A long moment of silence.

  “She was… deeply affected by the loss of her husband.”

  Had I misjudged her?

  Cadlaìgh’s gaze drifted across the endless grasslands. I closed my eyes. The image of my aunt, alone in her chambers, haunted me.

  “She is a princess, and she was a queen. She will still have much to teach my cousin.”

  Unlike my mother, I thought bitterly.

  “Is that so?” Cadlaìgh’s voice was soft. “She has no official duty anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she no longer knows what place she has in this world without her husband.” Her mare snorted as she guided it gently aside. She hesitated, then added in a whisper: “She knows Gondor no longer needs her. That she is replaceable.”

  My eyes flew open.

  “That is not true!”

  “It is.” Cadlaìgh met my gaze — serious, almost sorrowful. “Sienna is young. She is the future. Tariél is the past. And royal houses have no use for widowed queens who can bear no more heirs.”

  A hot anger rose in me.

  “That is cruel!”

  “It is truth.”

  Something tightened inside me.

  “And what are you?” I asked. “Just a traveler?”

  She looked at me, and for a moment I saw something like distant grief in her eyes.

  “I am someone who remembers. Things others have forgotten. You are afraid, are you not?”

  “Afraid of what?” My voice sounded thin.

  “That Gondor will forget the sacrifices your family made for peace.” She moved closer. “That Sienna is not only your cousin — but your rival.”

  I froze. She knew.

  “Those are dangerous words, Elf.”

  “Only if they are true.” She held my gaze. “But I am not here to anger you. I am here to remind you that peace among the peoples of Middle?earth was hard won.”

  The ride back was silent. I felt Théodred glance at me now and then, as if wanting to speak.

  At the gates of Meduseld, I turned to Cadlaìgh.

  “You will stay, then?”

  “For a while.” She smiled. “The plains of Rohan are beautiful. And I feel there is more for me to discover here.”

  “You are welcome,” I said.

  She bowed. “Thank you, Majesty.”

  The stable door creaked as I closed it behind me. Théodred leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his expression thoughtful.

  “What do you think?” he asked again as I turned to him.

  I brushed a stray lock of hair from my face.

  “I think Cadlaìgh knows more than she says.”

  He frowned. “Why tell you about Tariél?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Because she wants me to understand. That I am not only Queen of Rohan — but heir of Arnor. And that Gondor will not forget us.” I looked at my trembling hands. “She is right. Tariél is replaceable. And if I do not bear another heir…”

  I stopped.

  Théodred stepped closer and placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “You are not replaceable.”

  I smiled weakly.

  “For how long? If Sienna has a son, Gondor will be stronger than ever. And then…” I looked out across the plains. “Then Arnor will become a vassal again. As it was before the War of the Ring.”

  Théodred’s grip tightened.

  “That will not happen. Not while we live. You will have more children.”

  Later, in my chambers, I sat before a blank parchment. The words I wanted to write burned inside me, yet I did not know how to shape them.

  “To Her Highness, Dowager Queen Tariél of Gondor…”

  I hesitated. Should I call her “Queen Dowager”? Or simply “Aunt”? In the end, I chose courtesy — with a hint of intent.

  “Tariél, I hope this letter finds you in good health. The news from Gondor has moved me deeply, and I wish to offer my sincere condolences. A kingdom without its king is like a ship without a rudder — yet I know you have the strength to guide it through these stormy times.

  I write to you not only as your niece, but as Queen of Rohan. In these days, when the future of our lands seems uncertain, I wish to ask you something: Is there anything I can do to strengthen the bridge between our kingdoms? Something that benefits us both — without either of us giving up our independence?

  In hope of your reply,

  Celebrian, Queen of Rohan and Arnor.”

  I sealed the letter and called a messenger.

  “To Gondor. For Princess Tariél — personally.”

  When he had left, Théodred stepped behind me.

  “You are playing a dangerous game, mo leannan.”

  “I am not playing a game.” I leaned against him. “I am looking for a way to keep Arnor from becoming a pawn again.”

  “And if Tariél refuses? Or if Sienna finds out?”

  “Then at least we will know where we stand. But I cannot watch my aunt fade into obscurity — or let Gondor dominate us.”

  “I understand. But be careful. Your mother, Queen Alyndra, will not approve.”

  “My mother will have to understand that I am my own queen.” I touched his cheek. “And you? Are you with me?”

  “Always. But I will double the guards around Meduseld. Just in case.”

  Rohan, July 20th, Year 67 F.A.

  Every morning I had hoped for a reply from Tariél. Every evening I wondered whether I had risked too much. Trusted too much.

  But today, a new parchment lay on the silver tray of my maid. The seal of Gondor was intact, but the handwriting was not Sienna’s.

  “To Her Majesty, Queen Celebrian of Rohan,

  from Tariél, Queen Dowager of Gondor.”

  My heart quickened as I broke the seal.

  “Banrìgh Celebrian,

  I thank you for your words — but I fear you do not fully understand the position I am in.

  I cannot speak for Rohan or for Gondor, as you hope.

  But I will tell you this: the matter of titles is no longer relevant, for I will bear no more children who could claim them.

  May Eru grant you wisdom.

  Tariél.”

  I lowered the letter. Her words were polite — but distant. What a disappointment.

  Then I turned to the window. The plains of Rohan lay golden in the evening light — yet all I saw were the shadows gathering from the south.