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"A Bereth thar Ennui Aeair!
Calad ammen i reniar
Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
i chin a thûl lín míriel..."*

It was a calm spring evening, and Eldarion sang softly to himself as he stood on guard at the entrance to the Citadel. The White City lay quiet before him, rooftops still glistening wet from a late afternoon rainfall. It had not yet been an hour since the sun went down. Firelight and lamplight still shone from many a building, although one by one the households of Minas Tirith were shuttering their windows against the chill of night. Eldarion was prepared; he wore a lined black cloak over his uniform, in addition to fur-lined gloves and thick wooden socks. The warmth of the day still lingered in the stones beneath his boots though, as well as in the scent of growing things. Soon all of the window boxes in Minas Tirith would be filled with May-time flowers, and beyond the city walls the farmers would be planting their crops.

A dog howled somewhere in the lower circles, and Eldarion looked up to find the 'Dog Star' in the sky. He picked out Helluin without much difficulty, set as it was upon the glittering belt of Telumehtar, 'The Hunter'. Helluin shone ice-blue against the blackness of the night, reminding Eldarion of the sparkle of the Evenstar necklace's crystals. The precious heirloom of their house rested cool and familiar against Eldarion's skin beneath his tunic. His mother and father had given the Evenstar to him to wear when he was a child, and Eldarion almost never took it off. He had shared it for a time with Almárëa when she was younger and tearfully jealous. Over time though, the jewel had passed back to Eldarion. He was glad of it; somehow he had always felt off-balance and naked without the Evenstar resting next to his heart.

Another star caught his eye, red and hotly gleaming next to the constellation Menelgavor. The star Borgil was one of the largest in the Bull constellation, and a personal favourite of Eldarion's. He smiled quietly to himself as he continued to scan the star-dusted sky. Remmirath, 'The Jewelled Net'...Soronúmë, 'The Eagle'...Wilwarin, 'The Butterfly'...each twinkled into shape as Eldarion recognized them. Each constellation had its story, and each star its place in the tale. He and his sister's had learned all of those stories at their parents' knee. Eldarion felt a pang of longing for his sisters; Túrien, now a married woman living among the Haradrim, and then Eruthiawen and Almárëa off travelling in the north. Even Elboron had gone with them to Annúminas. At least Eldarion still had his father for company.

As if summoned by mere thought, Eldarion heard muffled footsteps approaching from across the courtyard of the White Tree. When he turned to look over his shoulder, he was greeted by his father's thoughtful gaze. It had been a long day of meetings with the lords of the Blackroot Vale, and Aragorn still wore his richly embroidered state attire and crown.

"All is quiet tonight?" Aragorn asked Eldarion, coming to stand side-by-side with his son.

Eldarion hummed in the affirmative, letting the usual decorum of a captain slide seeing as it was just the two of them present.

"I checked in with the officers in the guardhouse earlier. The patrols report that all was well in the city at sundown." Eldarion shifted subtly before adding "No sign of the one who left the Eye in the Sages' Tier either though."

"Unfortunate," said Aragorn "but not unexpected."

"Adar?"

"Yes, Eldarion?"

The question had been gnawing at Eldarion all day, but he still had trouble voicing it. "Could there ever be any chance that he might return to the world? The Dark Lord?"

A long sigh escaped Aragorn, and he sagged imperceptibly, creating the illusion for half a moment that Eldarion was the taller of the two. Then he drew himself upright, shedding the weariness of the day and old battles and speaking with firm conviction.

"No, there is no chance. Sauron bound his life-force to his Ring, and when it was destroyed his spirit was destroyed utterly along with it. Even though there may be those among Men who would echo the old symbols of Mordor for the purpose of inciting fear, they are little more than that; echoes. I watched the Eye flicker and die atop his crumbling tower...and more than that, I felt the shadow lift when his power ended. Rest assured Eldarion, Sauron is no more."

There was surety in Aragorn's pronouncement, and yet...Eldarion thought he heard the weight of words unspoken hanging in the air between them. They stood side-by-side, gazing up at the stars for a moment longer.

Aragorn laid a hand on Eldarion's shoulder-plate. There was a strange light in the king's eyes when he spoke.

"When I was a child, I was given the name 'Hope' by my mother; her own hope as well as that of our people for a better future in dark times. Your mother named you 'Son of the Elves', a princely name for an age of peace. I have prayed every day since you were born that never again would Hope be so sorely needed. Let us hope now though that the discovery in the Sages' Tier was a single miscreant looking to cause a stir, and nothing more."

With that Aragorn left Eldarion at the Citadel gate. His long cloak swept the stones behind him as he walked away toward the Tower of Ecthelion. The White Tree's leaves -still young and tender silver-green - fluttered quietly in the night air as the king passed by. The Tower of Ecthelion loomed tall and dark like a ship's mast against the starry vista overhead. Movement in the branches of the White Tree caught Eldarion's notice, and he turned away from his father's form as Aragorn disappeared inside.

It was a barn owl, perched in the branches of the White Tree. The bird alighted without a sound, and it's dark silhouette blotted out the stars as it flew over the Citadel. Eldarion watched its passage and wondered. What did an owl see and hear in the shadows of the night? Perhaps such a creature might have been able to tell him what happened in front of the Old Archives on the Gandalf's statue was desecrated.

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Such a thought kept Eldarion's thoughts dwelling on the square before the Archives right up until midnight. When the second watch came to replace him, it was for the Fifth Circle that Eldarion set out. Perhaps there was still something that had been missed, or even something about the square and its surroundings which he had failed to notice upon initial investigation. Eldarion passed Ohtar on guard at his post beside the Gate of Stars. A brief conversation confirmed that, as the evening patrol had said, all was quiet in the Sages' Tier. Even the windows of the House of the Heavens were dark.

Eldarion found the courtyard in front of the Old Archives empty and silent. A lantern burned at the entrance of either street book-ending the square, and the circles of orange light they cast revealed Shadowfax's marble flank now scrubbed clean. One could almost believe that the Eye had been little more than a bad dream.

A dog howled somewhere far off in the city as Eldarion reached up to place a hand on the statue. The marble was cold to the touch. Eldarion had to crane his neck to look up in the carven face of Gandalf the White. Mithrandir's expression was resolute, unyielding, as if even to this day he stood guard against the forces of darkness. A pity that the old wizard couldn't have stirred to life and confronted the one who had so offended his image himself.

"You and I never met, Mithrandir..." Eldarion murmured, running his hand along Shadowfax's side. "...and yet I wish we had. Sometimes I feel as though I know you even so."

"Perhaps we might make one another's acquaintance tonight instead, Prince."

Eldarion spun about, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword.  Tegil remained in its sheath though...for now. He sought in the darkness for the source of the voice which had just spoken to him unseen.

"Who goes there?" Eldarion called out.

"One who knows what you fear."

The voice - soft and smooth as smoke curling from a snuffed candle stub - echoed in the courtyard, making it difficult to place. The light from the lanterns did not reach to the corners between the Old Archive and the rock face from which it emerged. Everywhere shadows flickered, betraying no sign of the hidden speaker.

At a disadvantage and uneasy, Eldarion drew Tegil so that its blade caught the lamplight. "Show yourself. I do not speak to whispers in the dark."

The voice came again, and this time Eldarion thought he saw a tall silhouette move on the far side of the courtyard, opposite Gandalf's statue. The figure was clad all in black, with a dark hood and shapeless form.

"But a whisper in the dark I am," said the figure. "If you must name me though, I shall be Rhoss."

Eldarion snorted. "Rhoss...still naught but 'Whisper' in the tongue of elves. Tell me then, Rhoss, are you the one who tainted Mithrandir's statue with a crude likeness of The Eye?"

Rhoss' hooded head shook slightly. "No...but I know who it was. I also know that your father, the king, dismisses your fear that Sauron might not be entirely gone from the world. Know this, Prince...your father is wrong."

"How could that be true? I don't believe you." Realization narrowed Eldarion's eyes, and he drew his sword entirely from its sheath. "How is it also that you know what my father and I discussed alone?"

There was no answer. A closer look at the darkness across the yard revealed what Eldarion had moments ago thought to be the stranger's dark hood was now only a shovel propped against a wall.

"The shadow never truly dies, Prince." Rhoss' voice came once again to Eldarion in a low echo. "How could it, when even fading stars leave darkness in their wake?"

"What does that mean?! Rhoss? Rhoss?!"

There was no further answer from the hidden voice though, and Eldarion was left to search fruitlessly from one corner of the square to the other. He called Ohtar and the other guards on the Fifth Circle to him, and even together their efforts yielded nothing. It was as if the stranger who called themselves Rhoss had vanished without a trace.

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* 'O Queen Beyond the Western Seas' - Lyrics by J.R.R. Tolkien