All of Minas Tirith was in an uproar. Dawn was still many hours away, and yet every lantern burned in every window. All of the city guard both on and off-duty had been called up, and it fell to Eldarion to organize them in their search for Almárëa. Even as Eldarion tasked Ohtar with leading the search of the Sixth Circle though, his mind was already racing ahead, down to the Fifth Circle, the Sages' Tier.

He had left his family in a state of barely contained terror. Aragorn was personally leading the thorough search of the Citadel and all it contained, building by building and room by room. Even the Houses of the Dead were to be scoured, the hallowed vaults of kings and queens long past opened wide to searching torchlight. The naked fear on his mother's face just about broke Eldarion's heart to recall. For Almárëa to be taken from her bed in the House of the Kings struck at the very heart of not only their family, but the throne of Gondor itself. That any soul living in the White City would wish ill upon the house of Telcontar defied belief, especially after all they had come through together since the War of the Ring. Eldarion could only pray to the Valar that the hunch which drove him to lead the search of the Sages' Tier was correct.

As soon as they were through the Gate of Stars, Eldarion called Malbeth to him and pointed him toward the Houses of Lore.

"Malbeth, take your men and comb the western side of the Circle. I will lead the rest in a sweep of the east. We meet back here at the gate in an hour, and from there join with Ohtar to continue down to the Fourth Circle."

Malbeth hesitated. "Forgive me, Captain, but did your father not order that no member of the royal house was to go anywhere unattended until Princess Almárëa is safely found?"

Aragorn had indeed given such orders, and Eldarion had also been told as much just before he left the Citadel. It was not lost upon Eldarion the magnitude of risk which he intended to take. Greater still though did he judge the risk to Almárëa if he was unable to find the one whom he sought. And so Eldarion felt only a moment's doubt before turning a forceful stare on Malbeth.

"I have my own men, Malbeth, and you have your orders. You do no good in delaying the search for my sister by arguing the specifics of my father's words. Now do as I bid you and go."

Torn between indirectly disobeying the king and directly disobeying the prince, poor Malbeth could only submit to his captain's command. With a quick salute and a nod, Malbeth turned on his heel and directed his men to fan out and begin a search of every building along the western streets. Eldarion watched Malbeth go regretfully; it had not been his wish to be harsh, but every second lost might bring harm to Almárëa.

Quickly disbursing his own guards along the various avenues and courtyards throughout the eastern tier, Eldarion made a point of claiming the Old Archives for himself. Thus it was that, when he strode into the courtyard where Gandalf's statue stood watch, he was alone. The voices of soldiers conducting their search could still be heard nearby, as could the brief glow of torches be seen down the side streets. Eldarion set his own torch aside and removed his helmet, the better for his face to be visible.

"...Rhoss?" He called out tentatively. There was only silence and shadows in reply, and so Eldarion tried again, louder this time. "Rhoss?"

If the stranger who had spoken to him once before after the Eye was found did not reveal himself, then Eldarion did not know what to do. Who else in all the city could possibly know what had happened to Almárëa, if not the one who claimed to know who was behind the desecration of Gandalf's statue? It was entirely likely that Rhoss may have been involved in the incident, may even now be involved in Almárëa's kidnapping. This uncertainty made any dealings to be had with the man dangerous to say the least. That he had not only spoken to Eldarion, but also dared to show him his face in public gave Eldarion the tiniest glimmer of hope that perhaps Rhoss might yet lead him to his youngest sister. That was why he had dared to come alone, despite the risk. Without a doubt Rhoss would not show himself otherwise.

The silence lengthened, and Eldarion despaired. He was about to give up and rejoin his men in their desperate, directionless searching when a voice called softly to him from the dark.

"I am here, prince."

A quiet sigh of pure relief escaped Eldarion, relief which turned to trepidation even as he turned toward the voice. He could just barely make out a cloaked silhouette, standing in the far corner of the square. Rhoss' hood was down though, and even in the darkness Eldarion thought he might have been able to recognize the features as belonging to the man in marketplace.

"Where is my sister?"

"...Safe, but not for much longer."

Eldarion felt cold wrath rise like a wave within him. "So you were involved in her kidnapping then. And the Eye as well I suppose?"

Rhoss had the sheer audacity to chuckle. "I did not lie to you before, and I do not lie now when I say that I know who is behind these things. It was not I who plucked your sister from the safety of her bedchambers though."

"You said Almárëa is safe, but not for much longer. Will they..." Eldarion had to steel himself before asking the dreadful question. "...Will they kill her?"

"Oh yes, for lack of a better option."

"A better option?"

Rather than answer, Rhoss chose then to step forward into the wane light shed by Eldarion's discarded torch. Sure enough, he was the same man who had winked at Eldarion amidst the crowds. The aristocratic jawline, high brow, cat-like green eyes and thick, dark hair might have made Rhoss handsome in another light. Eldarion saw only the approach of an enemy though, and his hand flew to Tegil's hilt. Seeing this, Rhoss stopped where he was and made no further move to approach.

"You came to me looking for means to save your sister, prince." When Eldarion did not answer, Rhoss seemed to take that as confirmation. "I can offer you just that...if you have the courage for it."

"What do you mean?"

"Come with me. I will take you to Almárëa, as well as the people who hold her. The youngest princess of the House of Telcontar is a precious thing, but even more precious still is the eldest and only prince, wouldn't you say?"

Tegil came flashing out of its sheath in the blink of an eye, its blade shining hotly in the dying torchlight.

"Follow you straight into the lions' den, where I would no doubt be easy prey for an ambush? And then you and your people would have not just Almárëa, but myself as well? What kind of fool do you take me for?!"

Again Rhoss chuckled, low and soft, and if Almárëa's life did not hang in the balance Eldarion would very likely have yielded to the urge to strike him down.

"Not a fool, prince, rather a devoted brother who would gladly give anything...and everything for the sake of those he holds dear."

I would cheerfully die for you girls, you know that.

Eldarion's own words, spoken playfully to Túrien, came back to him. It was true though. If Rhoss were to disappear again, how would Eldarion ever hope to find Almárëa before it was too late? Even so, he was not about to just deliver up a second prize to these wicked people on a silver platter. Grip still white-knuckle tight on Tegil, Eldarion glowered at Rhoss.

"Be that as it may, why should your people release Almárëa upon my arrival? If you have enough folk to enter the Citadel - to break into the House of the Kings unseen! - then you surely have enough to overpower one man alone. You offer me no means by which to guarantee her safety."

"You are generous in your over-estimations. With darkness as one's ally, it does not take but a few to penetrate even the most carefully guarded palace. Your father trusts his citizens entirely too much, you must admit. It is true what you say; the others could certainly subdue you, even with your fine armour and reputed skill with a blade. Do not doubt that you would likely kill too many for their liking in the process. I know their minds, prince. There are not enough of us to waste lives in trying to fight you. No, the others would gladly accept a simple trade, with no blood spilled...at the time."

There was a certain logic to Rhoss' words. The choice before Eldarion was still a terrible one. If he were to refuse Rhoss' offer, perhaps even try to seize the man and drag him before his parents and the city guard, Almárëa would in all likelihood be dead before they ever found her. If he were to follow Rhoss though...Eldarion could only imagine the consequences of such an exchange. Even if Rhoss spoke truthfully, and his associates were willing to exchange a princess for a prince, that left Eldarion at the mercy of people who affiliated themselves with the dark legacy of Sauron. It didn't take much imagination to figure the kind of danger he would be putting himself in. 

Danger which currently threatened Almárëa. Clenching his teeth and steeling his resolve, Eldarion made his choice. Slowly he lowered Tegil's point away from Rhoss. He kept his sword in hand though; if these shadowy villains feared his skill with a blade, then Eldarion would retain that advantage for as long as possible. 

"Take me to my sister." 

An eager gleam brightened Rhoss' gaze, and he nodded. "Follow me." 

OoOoO

The two of them strode quickly and quietly down the streets of the Sages' Tier, Rhoss leading the way and Eldarion never more than a few steps behind. Eldarion hoped that perhaps they might encounter or at least be seen by the other searching soldiers, so that someone might later have answers for his disappearance. The voices and torchlight remained just out of sight around the street corners though, and a growing sense of dread curled in Eldarion's gut as they approached The Black House. 

It was something of a landmark in the Fifth Circle, an archive holding many of Gondor's older and more obscure records. The Black House stood in sharp contrast to the white stone from which Minas Tirith was built, its masterfully carved walls and thresholds having been built from blocks of black granite. Many complained that it was an eyesore, but even more proclaimed The Black House to be a unique part of Minas Tirith's heritage. It had, after all, been built as a novelty by King Atanatar II during the height of his reign in T.A. 1189, making it well over fifteen-hundred years old. The years had worn down the once clean edges and sharp corners of the Black House, making it look a rather gloomy building. The golden detailing of the walls and doorways had been restored since the War of the Ring though, and the contrast between worn stone and new gold created something of a disjointed effect. For all its history and controversy though, few occupied The Black House, save the handful of historians and archivists who kept the many, many scrolls and books contained within in order. 

The archive was closed for the night, but Rhoss did not use the main entrance. Instead, he led Eldarion down a narrow alley, barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast without brushing their shoulders against the stone. 

"Watch your step, prince." Glancing back over his shoulder to ensure Eldarion was still there, Rhoss led him all the way to the back of the alley, where The Black House met the rising keel of the Citadel rock. Rather than meet the white stone though, Eldarion could just barely make out a wedge of shadow between The Black House and the wall. There was space there, an even narrower passage which the play of angles and contrast between The Black House and the Citadel rock hid from view of the main street. 

"What is this?" asked Eldarion, pausing in the alley. 

"A back entrance, one by which famed scholars of ages gone by could come and go from The Black House without attracting unwanted attention." Rhoss answered Eldarion's quizzical look with a shrug. "This city once prized education far more highly than it does now." 

"Spare me the history lesson, Rhoss," snapped Eldarion. "Where is Almárëa??"

"This way."

Rhoss slid into the shadowy passage behind The Black House, and Eldarion had no choice but to blindly follow him. The space was wider than it appeared from the alley though, and the two of them were able to walk freely between the back of the building and the Citadel rock. Midway along the back wall of The Black House, Rhoss stopped in front of a door. It was plain and unassuming, just a slab of wood - recently replaced from the looks of it - hung from iron hinges. The hinges also must have been freshly oiled; they swung open without a sound after Rhoss produced a key and opened the lock. 

Faintly, Eldarion thought he heard the voices of the search parties elsewhere in the Sages' Tier. This was the last chance he would have to abandon this course. If he were to call out, to run even, his men would come rushing to their prince's aid within seconds. Eldarion now knew - or at least presumed - that Almárëa was somewhere within The Black House. He could flee back to the company of the other soldiers and have a search party descend on the building within moments. Would it be quick enough to save Almárëa from those who held her though? Was Eldarion willing to take that chance in order to guarantee his own safety?

Rhoss stepped across the threshold into the darkness, and Eldarion followed him. The door swung silently closed behind them, and the gloom brought with it the musty scent of old parchment and candle wax. Eldarion's eyes adjusted quickly enough though. They stood at the top of a winding stone staircase, the curve of which was illuminated by an unseen torch burning below. 

"Shall we?" Rhoss gestured toward the stairs. 

"...Lead on."

Rhoss smiled, his cat-like green eyes glittering in the gloom. He turned to descend the stairs...and almost seemed unsurprised when Eldarion seized him by the back of the shoulder. Drawing the other man back toward him, Eldarion raised Tegil and laid the blade across the hollow of Rhoss' throat. 

"I do not walk into whatever this is as a lamb to the slaughter" Eldarion growled in Rhoss' ear. "Let us see what value if any your fellow villains place on your life." 

A soft huff rose from Rhoss. He seemed remarkably unconcerned despite the vice-like grip which Eldarion had clamped on his shoulder and the sword at his throat. "When weighed against that of your sister? We shall see indeed. May I?"

With a curt nod and a shake, Eldarion allowed Rhoss to resume leading the way down the winding staircase. They descended in silence for several long moments, passing several more torches in brackets along the walls. Eldarion was taken aback to realize how far down they were going. 

"Does this lead all the way down into the Fourth Circle?" he wondered aloud. 

Rhoss chuckled. "Not quite. King Atanatar allowed for two sub-levels beneath The Black House, the better to grant the scholars who made their homes here the peace and solitude they so coveted. There are large lecture halls as well, perhaps you might care to see one?" 

"The only thing I care to see right now is Almárëa." 

"Fair enough. Ah, this is the place." 

The stairs came to an end at a small circular landing which opened out into a larger antechamber. The antechamber was not empty. Eldarion counted five men of various ages, all wearing similar black robes and cloaks as Rhoss. Those who had been sitting rose as Rhoss and Eldarion entered the room, and all smiled at them in a way which made the hairs on the back of Eldarion's neck prickle. A short chandelier hung overhead, but only a handful of the candles which it held had been lit, casting the features of the men in strange shadows which lengthened their chins and hollowed their cheeks. Even so, Eldarion could plainly see them for what they were. 

"Easterlings!" 

One man, an older fellow with a bald scalp and black kohl ringing his eyes and painting his lips, smiled unpleasantly at Eldarion. He bowed low in a derisive parody of respect, his hands tucked deeply into the sleeves of his dark robes. 

"We are indeed, Prince of Gondor. I see my son has already made your acquaintance. Welcome to our humble abode." 

"Your son?" Eldarion turned Rhoss slightly, still keeping Tegil firmly in place at his neck. Now that he was looking, he could see the signs of Rhûnic blood in Rhoss' precise features and straight black hair. The green eyes stood apart as unusual for an Easterling though. A child of mixed blood, perhaps?

"The story of his birth is an interesting one, perhaps he will have to tell it to you sometime." The bald man said nonchalantly. "For now though, I suspect you have more pressing business with us this night?" 

Something shifted at the corner of Eldarion's periphery, and his instincts went on high alert to realize that there were now another two men behind him at the door. Where they had come from Eldarion could not say, but that made seven...eight including Rhoss. Eldarion was confident he could fight as many of four-on-one, but eight... His dismay only grew when the men in the room turned back the edges of their cloaks to reveal a sword on every belt. 

Swallowing his mounting fear, Eldarion pulled Rhoss back against him and pressed Tegil's blade against his skin until beads of blood welled up. Rhoss remained pliant and uncomplaining, not so much as flinching in Eldarion's grip. 

"Where is my sister? I have come for her, and you will reveal her to me." 

"But of course." 

At a signal from the bald leader, two of the original five men slipped from the antechamber through a side door. The two at the door continued to linger on the edge of Eldarion's vision, and he felt his pulse quicken. Whatever happened, he could not let Almárëa stay in these people's clutches for a minute longer. If Eldarion was nervous, he could only imagine how frightened Almárëa - adored, cosseted Almárëa - must be. 

"You must forgive my ill manners, prince, for I fear I have not properly introduced myself." The bald man was saying. "Serthîk is my name, and in our tongue it means 'Noble One'. I therefore pride myself in conducting all my business in a noble manner. Come, perhaps we might offer you a seat while we wait for your sister to join us? Or some refreshment even?" 

"Stay where you are!" Eldarion snarled, having noticed movement from the two men behind him. 

"As you wish," said Serthîk calmly. "Ah! But they do tarry! You know how the saying going though, prince; 'Wait an hour on a woman, wait a lifetime on a wife'!" Serthîk chuckled to himself and shook his head. "It translates better in our tongue. You of course would know all about such things. Or perhaps not...?" 

Eldarion would not even dignify such a parody of friendly conversation with a reply. He only narrowed his eyes and pressed Tegil's blade ever-so-slightly tighter against Rhoss' neck, producing a trickle of blood which ran down into the collar of Rhoss' cloak. Serthîk hardly seemed uneasy though, even as Eldarion stood within an inch of ending his son's life. Rhoss for his part seemed to have decided that the wisest course of action was to continue to say and do nothing. 

The side door opened, and the men reappeared in the antechamber. They held Almárëa each by an elbow, and between the two men she seemed incredibly small, fragile even. She still wore her favourite green nightdress, though it had been ripped in several places and dirtied about the hem. Her hands were tied in front of her, and Eldarion's stomach lurched in anger when he saw that she was bound with wire, causing any struggles to leave cruel welts on her small wrists. She was also gagged, and for what was likely the first time in her life Almárëa could speak no word on her own behalf. Her eyes when she saw Eldarion went wide and filled with tears, and she struggled piteously against her captors. 

"Don't be afraid, Almárëa," said Eldarion, trying to sound as reassuring as he possibly could. "You'll be safe soon, I promise." 

"Interesting." Serthîk went to stand beside Almárëa, and Eldarion could only watch as she immediately shrank from him. "The House of Telcontar is well known for honoring their promises in all things. And yet, I fail to see how it is that you intend to make good on that particular promise, prince. Especially since, seeing as you now hold my son in your power, I think it only fair that any hurts you visit upon him be reflected upon your sister. Wouldn't you say?" 

"Wait...!" 

Eldarion protested when Serthîk drew a small knife from within his cloak. Almárëa went white with fear, but the two men held her tight even as Serthîk pressed the blade to her neck. Her eyes were wide and pleading as she looked to Eldarion, and she let out a squeak when a single drop of blood ran down from the edge of Serthîk's knife. 

"Let her go! Take me instead!" 

Eldarion had known all along that tonight was probably going to come to this. He had hoped against hope that it might not be so, that somehow he might be strong and clever enough to bring both Almárëa and himself safely back from this nest of vipers. The black-lipped smile on Serthîk's evil face though confirmed Eldarion's suspicions though. Almárëa had only ever been bait, with the true prize all but assured of walking himself straight into the trap...just as Eldarion had done. 

Almárëa stopped struggling immediately and stared at Eldarion, disbelief, fear, and veiled hope all warring together at once on her tear-streaked face. Serthîk removed the knife and cocked his head at Eldarion, a mockingly puzzled expression quirking his brow. 

"Now there is an interesting notion. Now why would I do such a thing, prince? Seeing as I have you both now as my guests, I have no need of making such exchanges." 

Eldarion lifted Tegil from Rhoss' neck, brandishing the flashing sword for all to see. "You'll not have me easily, I swear it. If you try to take me by force, I will kill as many of you as I can first, starting with your treacherous son."

"And your sister?" 

Here was the tricky part. If Serthîk saw through his bluff, Eldarion knew that he and Almárëa both would be lost. 

"If you manage to take us both, I imagine that Almárëa and I are as good as dead regardless. No one knows where we are, and I think it doubtful that your foul plans involve a long and healthy life for the heirs of Elendil. Let her go, or death will be coming for us all tonight. Let my sister go, and I swear by the Valar that I will surrender without struggle." 

Almárëa's face had slowly hardened into a mask of resolve as Eldarion spoke at first, and Eldarion knew that she would likely accept such a fate if it were to come to that. He felt a stab of pride for his little sister's courage, but also knew that he himself could never accept such a thing. If Almárëa died here tonight, Eldarion could carry the guilt and grief of that for the rest of his days. And so he prayed with ever fiber of his being that Rhoss had spoken the truth to him earlier. 

When Serthîk bowed in mock defeat, a cruel smile still pulling at his painted lips, Eldarion knew that he was lost. His heart lifted in relief though, even as Serthîk turned back to Almárëa. 

"My dear, I am afraid that your brother makes a most convincing argument. And so, as much as it pains me to lose your fair company, we must bid farewell...for now." 

Almárëa threw herself against the arms which held her, shaking her head in horror as the full weight of what her freedom would cost settled in. She reached out with her bound hands for Eldarion, and Eldarion was sorely tempted to beg for one last chance to bid his sister a proper goodbye. He would need all his strength, pride, and dignity for whatever these people had in store for him though, and so he held his ground. Instead, Eldarion swallowed past the tightness in his throat and spoke to Almárëa, and her alone. 

"Av-'osto, muinthel-nin. Anin gell nîn, ego." (Don't be afraid, my sister. For my sake, go.) Then in the Common Tongue, he added "Tell everyone that I love them, most especially Naneth and Adar." 

"A touching last speech," commented Serthîk. "Before the little princess leaves us, bind her eyes again, as before when she was brought here. Take her out into the streets and leave her to wander, blind and barefoot like the lowest beggar."

Even blindfolded, sobbing, and struggling, Almárëa was easily taken from the room by the men. They took her out by way of the stairs where Rhoss and Eldarion had entered, and Eldarion listened to the fading scuffles and footsteps even after they were gone. Silence fell, broken only by the distant sound of a latch opening. Then Serthîk smiled at Eldarion. 

"Now then, perhaps you might be so kind as to release my son." 

Wordlessly, Eldarion turned Rhoss loose. Rhoss stepped calmly to one side, not even bothering to wipe away the line of blood painting his neck. Eldarion fell into a defensive crouch with Tegil held tightly in both hands. Serthîk raised an eyebrow. 

"You go back on your word?" 

As much as Eldarion wanted to - wanted to fight each and every last one of these vermin to the death - he had sworn, on the Valar no less. To go back on his word was not something that he could do; he would not dishonor himself and his bloodline in such a way. Even still, he clung to these last few moments of freedom.

"No. But I will not stand down until your men return...without Almárëa."

Serthîk relaxed, and his smile once again turned mockingly polite. "But of course." 

A tense, uncomfortable silence fell. For several long moments, Eldarion faced down his soon-to-be captors, sword in hand. No one made a move toward him though. Eldarion met Rhoss' gaze, and there was a strangely excited gleam in Rhoss' eye that made Eldarion's stomach clench. Then there came approaching footsteps on the stairs, and Eldarion despaired. 

A moment later, the two men re-entered the room. Almárëa was nowhere to be seen. Having noticed no other doors on the way down, Eldarion could imagine nowhere else Almárëa might be except outside. Malbeth and his men would find her soon. She would be safe now. 

Serthîk held out a hand toward Eldarion. 

"Your sword?" 

Eldarion inhaled a sharp breath...raised his chin defiantly, eyes flashing. 

When Tegil hit the floor, its ringing against the stones was to Eldarion the tolling of a death knell. 

OoOoO