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All was quiet in the White City, just the sort of night which Eldarion preferred for a turn on guard duty. He passed beneath the Gate of Stars from the Players' Tier to the Sages' Tier of Minas Tirith, and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the passage in the moonlight. Gold inlay lined the carven stars, Suns and moons dusted across the smooth white stone, and in the dark the engravings gleamed like quicksilver. Eldarion's footsteps echoed as he treated the length of the fifth gate. He heard no other sound, not even the murmuring of the night watchmen. Two soldiers stood silent at attention outside the far end of the gate when Eldarion emerged. They greeted their young captain with a nod and a soft "My lord", but otherwise the peace remained unbroken. Surveying the rooftops of the Houses of Lore and the city Archives, bone white beneath the deep blue vault of night, Eldarion fingered his sword at his belt and smiled. Nearly fourteen months on the city guard, and he had yet to draw the blade whilst on active duty.

"Any scholars burning the midnight oil tonight, Ohtar?" asked Eldarion.

Ohtar - an easy-tempered fellow not quite forty - nodded. "The astronomers are tracking the meteor shower they predicted a fortnight ago. All candles are lit in the windows of Bâr Menel. You know, my lord, some folk believe it's good luck to wish upon a falling star."

Sure enough, little pinpricks of light could be seen in the House of the Heavens. Almárëa was in there as well, having been instructed by her tutors to observe the path of the celestial stones as they fell to earth. It was said that the Noldor had shaped the all-seeing Palantíri from such stones, and if any fell in Gondor then the sages would be the first to know of it. Star, stone, or Palantír, Eldarion did not imagine such things were in the habit of granting wishes, even to princes.

"If that were true, what would you wish for, Ohtar?"

"Well now that's an easy question! Wealth, fame, and good fortune of course! And perhaps a fairer, younger face to go with it all!" Ohtar chuckled, his buck-teeth clearly visible beneath the nose-piece of his helm when he did so. "And you, Prince Eldarion?"

Considering that - if he were being perfectly honest and throwing humility to the wind - Eldarion already possessed all of the things that Ohtar had just mentioned, he thought carefully before he answered. One thing Eldarion had learned within the first month of his appointment to the city guard was that being the Prince of Gondor may entitle him to deference from the men of his company, but it did not mean they had to like or respect him. Those things came slowly, with time and a constantly growing awareness of the privileges that his station in life afforded him. Even now there were still some among the older men under Eldarion's command who clearly didn't think him capable of figuring a thistle from a thimble. Elfwine's letters from Rohan and his confessions of a similar settling-in period upon being made Third Marshal were an enormous reassurance to Eldarion.

At length Eldarion replied "I think I might wish for a spare six hours at daybreak."

"Oh?" asked Ohtar. "And why might that be?"

"More time in which to make up for lost sleep! Tomorrow is my parents' wedding anniversary, and my sisters have more than a few plans for filling the day. You at least can go home and sleep come changing of the guard!"

"Not with a pair of three-year-olds twins at home I can't!" Ohtar exclaimed, rattling his spear. "It will be 'Papa see this' and 'Papa mend that' from dawn 'till dusk from the moment I get in the door. You wait until you have children of your own someday, my lord, and then you'll know that sleep can be made up for when you're dead!"

The other guard joined Eldarion and Ohtar in chuckling. The sound of their mirth echoed in the moonlit streets, no doubt carrying far enough across the Sages' Tier to annoy the astronomers at their work. That was nothing however compared to the urgent, abrupt shout that cut the night a few moments later.

"Captain Eldarion!"

Eldarion nearly startled at the sudden call, and frowned when one of his men came jogging down a side street past The Black House, an enigmatic old hall in the fifth circle of Minas Tirith known for its dark stones walls. It was strange for a soldier of Gondor on duty to rush so in-decorously. Also strange was the uneasy flash in Malbeth's eyes as he skidded to a halt at the foot of the Gate of Stars.

"Yes Malbeth, what is it?"  asked Eldarion.

"My lord, there's been a...well...perhaps you ought to come see for yourself."

Ohtar shifted beside Eldarion. "Captain, if I may...?"

"Stay on guard, Ohtar. Malbeth, what is it that is so urgent for me to see?"

Malbeth swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "It looks to be some sort of public mischief, although the better word for it is likely desecration. Please my lord, it's the statue of Mithrandir."

Whatever it was that Malbeth was describing, Eldarion didn't like the sound of it one bit. With a brisk nod, he set out down the lantern-lit streets following the other guard. Malbeth led him past The Black House, around a courtyard fountain, and to the top of the stair that led down to the Old Archives. It was here that Gandalf the Grey had, nearly forty years ago, found the writings of Isildur which revealed The One Ring in the possession of Frodo Baggins. In honour of that discovery, as well as all Gandalf's efforts on behalf of the goodly folk of Middle-Earth since, Aragorn had commissioned a statue of the old wizard for the courtyard in front of the Archives. For nearly two decades Gandalf's likeness had stood tall at the foot of the Citadel rock where it arose in the fifth circle. The statue was carved from two blocks of white marble; one for the wizard himself, and one for the great Mearas stallion astride whom he sat.

Eldarion arrived before the Old Archives to find a group of city guards already nervously gathered. They stood encircling Gandalf's statue, but at a distance as if holding it at arm's length.

"Well now, what's-"

The words died on Eldarion's tongue when Malbeth plucked a lantern from a nearby street post and held it aloft. At a first glance from the front of the statue, nothing was amiss. The lamplight revealed a red stain - near black in the dark- marring one of Shadowfax's marble-smooth, milk-white sides.  With a single vertical slash bracketed by inward crescent splatters, the symbol was unmistakable. Even children born of the Fourth Age knew it well; it was emblazoned across their frightening bedtime stories and their parents' nightmares.

"The Eye of Sauron," Eldarion breathed.

"The night patrol discovered it on their rounds," said Malbeth, his voice tight.

Trying to fight through the disbelief at what he was seeing, Eldarion turned to the patrolmen standing nearby.

"And when exactly was that? Has there been a thorough search of the area?"

"Twenty minutes ago, Captain. We've searched all streets and alleys in this area, as well as the public spaces around the Old Archives. Not a soul is about, although we hadn't begun knocking on doors in the House of the Heavens and other scholarly places."

Eldarion knew there would be a reckoning if the astronomers and other nocturnal sages were disturbed at their work, but this went beyond a few ruffled feathers. "Begin knocking then. I want every building in this district searched carefully and occupants questioned as to what they might have seen. The ones who did this are surely still close by."

"What makes you say that, my lord?" asked Malbeth.

"The paint...it has yet to dry."

Sure enough, where Eldarion pointed the hideous eye marring Shadowfax's side gleamed wetly in the dark like fresh-spilled blood. The guards set about disturbing what was left of the peace of the Sages' Tier, rousing sleepily protesting scholars from their beds and searching closets filled with parchment and books from top to bottom. Eldarion personally led the search of Bâr Menel, and when they were finished he collected Almárëa and escorted her back to the Citadel himself. The city guard he left on high alert, with orders to extend their search through the entire fifth circle of Minas Tirith before dawn. Eldarion also gave instructions for the offending Eye to be scrubbed from Gandalf's statue immediately. The thought of such a mark on display anywhere in the White City sickened him, but even worse that it should mar the effigy of one who had quite literally once given his life for the sake of Middle-Earth.

OoOoO

Eldarion and Almárëa roused Aragorn, Arwen, and Eruthiawen from sleep with hours yet before the sun would rise behind the Ephel Dúath, or Mountains of Shadow. Those sharp black peaks on the eastern horizon ringed what had once been Mordor. Eldarion had never learned to fear those mountains and what lay behind them, at least not properly. Tales of Mordor and Sauron and Nazgûl had always seemed like frightening wraiths with which to subdue naughty children. For some reason though, a chill had lodged in Eldarion's heart at the sight of that painted symbol. That chill only deepened when he watched his mother and father's faces change as he delivered his report.

When Eldarion finished speaking, Arwen rose abruptly and went to stand at the east-facing window of the room. The balcony doors were shut, still early spring as it was, but through the glass a faint blue haze could be seen in the distance behind the points of Ephel Dúath. Arwen's long dark hair fell unbound about her shoulders, and she drew her shawl tightly about her as she stood in silence, her back to the room.

Aragorn's gaze was grim as it bored into Eldarion. He had not trimmed his greying beard yet nor dressed properly, but despite having just been pulled from bed he spoke with stern authority.

"And your search revealed nothing in the surrounding area? No trace of painting materials or perhaps an eye-witness?" Aragorn pressed Eldarion.

"No, Adar, nothing. All nearby buildings were dark and shuttered for the night, and the astronomers claimed to have been focused only on the sky, not the comings and going of the earth."

Almárëa spoke then. Eldarion wished this could have happened any other night than her long-anticipated meteor shower. She still wore the belt of linen pouches filled with mapping tools which she used during her astronomy lessons.

"There is one thing Ada...Eldarion. I looking down from one of the mirror-glasses when I thought I saw a street lamp flicker in the direction of the Old Archives. It was only a brief glimpse, and when I looked again all of the lamps were lit. But still..."

"A flicker you say? Do you remember where exactly this lamp was, Almárëa?" asked Aragorn, turning the full force of his attention on his youngest daughter.

Almárëa thought hard for a moment, measuring a memory unseen with her hands. "I can't be sure, but it seemed to be perhaps a street or two east of the Old Archives, toward the Gate of Stars. I remember for certain that the distance between the Citadel rock and the flickering light was no less than three hundred meters."

"Well now, that is more than just a small thing Almárëa!" Aragorn exclaimed. "You're certain of such a measurement with only your eyes? Because of so, that would undoubtedly tighten your search, Eldarion."

Almárëa nodded, looking pleased with herself despite the circumstances. "I had my cartography lesson earlier in the day, and old Mistress Díraen is ever so fond of learning how to do things 'after the old fashion'."

"Praise for Mistress Díraen as well then! Eldarion, you'll have your men double their search within three hundred and fifty meters of the Old Archives?"

"Yes Adar, the moment I return to the guard house." Eldarion looked to the window where Arwen still stood. "Naneth?"

Seeming to come back to herself after being deep in thought, Arwen let out a long breath before turning back to them. There were strands of silver at his mother's temples and tiny, telltale signs of care mingled with her laugh-lines, Eldarion noticed.

"I was just thinking that peace, although blessed, is not without its own perils. Three and thirty-years since the War of the Ring, two-and-a-half since the treaty was signed with Harad, and I fear that already in that short length of time peace had begun to breed idleness among the people. Idle hands and idle minds can be a dangerous thing; still waters upon which any ripple for good or ill might travel. There is a shadow over the city tonight Aragorn, can you feel it?"

Eldarion met Eruthiawen's eye across the sitting room. The shadow that their mother described was known to them both as well; they could see it in each other's eyes. Almárëa bit her lip and fingered the string of her tool belt, and Eldarion sensed that she could feel it too.

Aragorn stood from where he had been sitting in his armchair and went to Arwen's side. The darkness of night reflected in Arwen's unblinking gaze, and her shoulders were chilled when he wrapped an arm around her. 

"We will find whoever saw fit to stain our city and peace of mind like this, I swear it," said Aragorn vehemently. "In the meantime though, I think I would like you, Eruthiawen, and Almárëa to depart for Annúminas in two weeks as we had planned. Our northern capital is undoubtedly feeling a bit neglected since our last visit, but I do not think I can join you anymore. This matter of the Eye is far too serious for me to leave Minas Tirith until it is resolved." 

"Oh but Ada, it won't be half the trip without you!" exclaimed Almárëa. "Can't Faramir and Eldarion track down these trouble-makers in your stead?" 

A part of Eldarion that still retained some boyhood cheek wanted to remark on the apparent lack of concern over his own having to stay behind from the family journey to Annúminas, but held his tongue. He was a captain of the City Guard, and this discovery had been made on his watch. Both of those reasons were by far grounds enough to merit his staying in Minas Tirith until the culprit was caught. Still, Eldarion did lament that he would not be seeing their uncles Elladan and Elrohir in Rivendell this year, nor the Dúnedain in the shining lake-side city of Annúminas. 

Aragorn sighed. Leaving Arwen's side, he went to Almárëa and laid a calloused hand on the gleaming waves of her dark-brown hair. Almárëa was nearly equal in height with their father's shoulders now, and he had to reach higher to do so than he might once have. 

"I trust Faramir to govern as Steward under just about any circumstances, and Eldarion is more than capable of handling this matter...if it were a simple case of public mischief. The Eye of Sauron is more than just a symbol though, iel-nin; it is a threat. That mark has brought more ruin in its wake than any other since the flag of Morgoth itself. I cannot in good conscience leave my throne at such a time, not even to one as loyal and trustworthy as Faramir. 

Seeing the dispirited looks on the faces of all of his family, Aragorn tried to offer up some small consolation. "Perhaps I can send some men of equal charm, looks, and good humor in my place? Seeing as his services as Steward are no longer needed in the White City this spring, shall I write to Faramir and invite his family to join ours on the long journey north? It has been entirely too long since the Lord Scholar traveled abroad I reckon."

"And perhaps Legolas and Gimli could be spared to join us as well?" Eruthiawen chimed in. 

Eruthiawen like their mother had been largely silent throughout their discussion. The folds of her night-robe pooled at her feet beneath the chaise couch, and Eldarion spied his sister's bare toes. He felt badly for having woken his family up so abruptly. Then he felt anger mingled with annoyance at whoever had left such a disturbing icon on Gandalf's statue. Theirs was a time of peace and plenty...what gave anyone the right to incite fear in Gondor?

"Perhaps, if Gimli is not opposed to riding so far. Why don't you write to all of our friends, Eruthiawen and Almárëa, and invite anyone who can spare the time and wishes to travel to join you on the trip to Annúminas?" 

Eruthiawen and Almárëa left, Eruthiawen to dress for the day and Almárëa to bed after her astronomy lesson gone awry. Arwen, Aragorn, and Eldarion meanwhile lingered in the sitting room. 

"An armed escort for the road then, meleth-nin?" Arwen observed with a droll half-smile. There was no laughter in her eyes though. 

Aragorn sank back down onto the edge of his armchair, his elbows propped on his knees and fingertips laced together. "I was trying not to be too obvious about it. I take it I failed?" 

"They are poor replacement for you, although I beg you not to tell our friends that I said as much," Arwen replied. "We will still take ten knights with us for the journey. It is a long way to Annúminas, even by way of the Gap of Rohan." 

Aragorn looked up at Arwen sadly. "I imagine we will not see one another again until at least Midsummer then. This could hardly have come at a worse time. I'm loathe to bid farewell to you and the girls when you leave in two weeks' time." 

"At least you and I will be here to greet Túrien and her party from Harad when they arrive at Midsummer," said Eldarion, trying to cheer his father. 

That did get a smile from Aragorn. "True, there is that at least." Then, he slapped his knees and rose to his feet. "Well, if you and I are going to be spending the spring here in Minas Tirith, then we may as well make good use of our time, Eldarion. Your men are likely finishing their search of the Sages' Tier. Return to the guard house, and if anything was found report back to me in the Tower of Ecthelion. If not, I suggest you double the guard and recall old Captain Bergil from Osgiliath. He's as wily a fox as they come, and if anyone can sniff out our miscreant it will be him." 

"Yes Adar, Naneth." 

Falling back into the role of a Captain of Gondor, Eldarion bowed to his parents before turning and leaving. With a hand on the hilt of his sword, he moved with purpose in his long strides. On his way past the Citadel courtyard, the White Tree caught his eye. It had yet to bloom with the coming spring, and frost glittered on its graceful bows as it reached for the overcast sky. A sudden vision of an eye splattered across the Tree's white trunk in dripping red intruded upon Eldarion's mind, and just as quickly as it came he thrust the image away. If this was what the sight of a single mark could do, Eldarion could only imagine the constant shadow that must have preyed upon everyones' minds during the War of the Ring. Those days of fear and darkness were long over though.

Weren't they?

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