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The old man moved furtively through the courtyard of the
fountain. Night’s shadows concealed him from the ever-watchful
guards; their attention focused on enemies from without rather than
within.
With a nimbleness that belied his apparent age, he neared the tree and
reached into the clustering flowers on its crown, taking the single
seed formed there. Then down, down through the many levels and
circles of the city, flitting through shadow and darkness to the great
gates, before climbing again to the heights of Mindolluin.
There he halted, scooping a small hollow in the earth and placing the
seed reverently within before covering it again. Finally he
stood. “Lie hidden here, even as the race of Elendil lies
hidden. Your time will come.”
With a final glance at the secret hollow, he left the barren,
snow-covered wastes to return to the city, and the aged, stooped
disguise that cloaked him.
***
Author's Note:
Remember when Aragorn and Gandalf found the sapling of the White
Tree?
I began to wonder just how it got there in the first place …
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