Thoroncir's mind wanders a bit....
Early one evening not long before, after a successful raid against an enemy outpost southeast of Port Hatha, Crown Prince Eldarion had led his cavalry force back to their base.
Thoroncir rode at his side. Eldarion's companions – Ostoher, a Ranger of the North in woodland leather and Elven-cloak, and Aredost, Lorinthon and Mithmegil, in the mithril helms and dark blue capes of Guards of the Citadel – were a short distance behind, out of earshot but ever watchful for any threat to their lord. They traded jokes with Ceol, who rode along with them; his keen swords had been vital to the raid’s success. Some forty other knights and men-at-arms followed them in a mounted column. Casualties had been light, and their spirits were high.
In their recent time together, Thoroncir had been impressed by what he had seen of the young royal. Eldarion had something of the Elven grace of his mother, but the dark eyes, direct gaze and strength of purpose of his father. Thoroncir had heard of realms in which the heir was pampered and self-indulgent, but he could see that would not be so in Gondor. The prince had already shouldered responsibilities worthy of much older men, learning the hard tasks of governance so that he would be ready when the time finally came for him to don the Winged Crown of Gondor. The Sea-knight had known that Eldarion was mighty in battle, but was coming to realize that he was also wise in judgment, befitting one who would one day rule. Had Thoroncir not known that it was so, he might almost have doubted that they were the same age.
The prince had a calm, easy way about him that invited confidence and respect. As they rode he said, "You fought quite well again today, Thoroncir. I wonder if there are any who could stand against you in this entire land?"
The young knight-errant replied, "I am sure that there are, my lord. I have been wounded more than a time or two since joining Gil-Gandel's Band, and I will not allow myself to grow overconfident."
Eldarion nodded. "That is for the best. The warrior who thinks himself invincible will inevitably – and fatally – someday find himself proven wrong. Fortunately, you’ve had my dear sister close at hand when healing was required."
"Very fortunately, my lord," Thoroncir said, not daring to meet the Crown Prince's eye.
"She is talented in the healing arts, is she not?"
"I know of none better, my lord; certainly none who has ever healed me."
Eldarion's tone grew lighter. "I must say, there are those in your party who sometimes suspect that you actually court danger, so that you might be wounded and thus have the benefit of Gilraen's tender attentions."
"I assure you that is not true, my lord," Thoroncir said earnestly.
Eldarion smiled to see his expression. "Of course not. Forgive me, Thoroncir, for my poor jest! I think I know you better than to actually believe that. But come, let us speak plainly. I see how you look at her, and how she returns your gaze. Yours is not merely the friendship of those who have shared long journeys together, nor even the sacred bond between healer and healed. Although not as keen-eyed as my mother the Queen, even I perceive that there is more between you."
Thoroncir took a deep breath. Now or never, he thought. "That is so, my lord, in truth. Her grace, beauty and wisdom have won my heart, and she has also opened her own heart to me. May it please you, O prince, your sister and I have fallen in love.”
“Whether it pleases me or not matters little, I suspect,” Eldarion said quietly. “But I thank you for your candor. You have served Gondor well, and I know that you have saved Gilraen’s life many times over.”
“As she has saved mine, my lord.”
The prince nodded. “Just so. You are of course not the first for whom shared adversity, and the spilling of blood in a noble cause, have provided tinder for the fires of love. Tell me, do you hope to marry?”
Thoroncir met his gaze. “Indeed, we do.”
“Ah. But she is a princess, while you – worthy as you are, I hasten to say – are but a captain of Sea-knights. Love conquers all, or should, but it is not always quite so simple for royalty, as well I know. A daughter of the King may marry only by his leave, and already there are those who give thought to wedding her. The grandsons of the Prince of Dol Amroth have oft cast their eyes in her direction, I am told, and Falastur, Duke of Harlindon, has spoken openly of his high regard for her. And he is not alone; several other peers of the realm would marry her tomorrow, had they but the chance.”
“Well I know this, my lord,” said Thoroncir, miserable inside as he recognized the truth of what Eldarion said, but with his chin still raised. “She is far above my station, and there are surely titled men with claims superior to mine, I admit, and yet I love her, and always will.”
Eldarion looked at him for a long time, before he smiled again and said warmly, “Then be of good cheer, Thoroncir, for she loves you too. Yes, I know this, for what my eyes did not reveal, she has herself told me. My dear sister and I, you will find, have few secrets from one another. (My uncle Elrohir might also have mentioned something on this topic, come to think of it). Even by the time I knighted you in Minas Tirith I could already see the spark between you and Gilraen, although she was not then fully aware of it. I think I will yet see you married, despite other claimants; after all, only my eldest sister is as yet being actively courted. I said last week, when you allowed yourself to be pierced by a Harad arrow meant for my own heart, that in your veins, Thoroncir, runs the ancient bravery and nobility of our people. You are a Dunedan of a cadet line, but a Dunedan nonetheless. More importantly, regardless of lineage, I have come to realize that you are a man fully worthy of my sister’s hand. This and more will I tell my father when the time comes.”
Thoroncir’s heart leaped at these words, and forgetting himself, he leaned across from his saddle and seized Eldarion’s hand, shaking it vigorously and gratefully. The Sea-knight did not see the concerned bodyguards’ hands go as one for their swords, nor did he hear Ceol, smiling, quietly assure them that their lord was in no danger. He blurted out, "Thank you, my lord, thank you, a thousand times over! You honor me by your words."
“She loves you, Thoroncir,” Eldarion repeated, “and I learned from an early age the folly of trying to keep Gilraen from that which she was determined to get for herself, at times overcoming even our parents’ resistance." He laughed. "Remind me to tell you sometime of how she chose her horse, Kali, or for that matter how she came to be a part of Gil-Gandel's Band. Lovely my sister is, yes, and talented and wise and all that, to be sure, but a word of warning from one who knows: she is also stubborn to the bone!”
At that, Thoroncir could not help but join him in laughter.
The prince and the knight spoke at length on the rest of the journey back to Port Hatha, with the latter now well pleased to have another friend and ally in the House of Telcontar.
Derivation of the names:
Ostoher (Quenya, "fortress lord," named after an early King of Gondor)
Aredost (Sindarin, "noble fortress")
Lorinthon (Sindarin, "golden pine")
Mithmegil (Sindarin, "grey sword")
Falastur (Sindarin, "lord of the coasts," and another early King of Gondor)
Posted with the approval of our DM.