"Boom!"
Three mighty forces clashed at once, and the palantír erupted with a blaze of white fire. Within that blinding light, Kaen Eowenríel's spirit locked eyes with the flaming gaze of Sauron. In the silence of the mind, Kaen's voice rang cold and proud.
"I am in Taurëmírë, your old Dol Guldur. I await your armies there."
It was arrogance made flesh, his words steeped in defiance. His eyes gleamed with confidence that burned brighter than any flame, and Sauron, beholding such insolence, could not help but laugh — a dark, echoing sound that rippled through the void.
"I shall bring you death," the Dark Lord whispered, his voice like a shroud of ash.
He knew now that the Seeing-stone could not break Kaen's will, nor seize his mind. Without further struggle, he withdrew his malice, severing the link between the two palantíri.
In an instant, the light of the stones faded. Kaen and Arwen's consciousnesses returned to their mortal forms.
A dull thud, Kaen staggered back a step. Arwen reached out swiftly, her fair hand steadying him. The clash of their spirits had pressed him to his limits. She had lent her strength, yet most of the burden had been his alone.
Weariness flickered across his eyes, a brief shadow upon his proud face. Guided gently by Arwen's touch, he sat upon the table's edge and breathed deeply.
"No wonder he was the greatest darkness after Morgoth," Kaen murmured. "To face Sauron is still… beyond me."
Arwen's voice, soft as moonlight, answered, "A day shall come when you will triumph over him. But that day is not now. You must not stand alone when war darkens the world again."
Kaen inclined his head, her words stirring thought within him. Then, a small, cunning smile curved his lips.
"Sauron does not truly believe I will wait for him in Taurëmírë, does he?"
For Kaen Eowenríel was never one to act by the book of predictability. Against the dark men of the East, he held firm to his creed, Better to strike first than to cower and await the blow.
He would rather be an invader by necessity than a victim of helplessness. And the East's shadow had long been creeping nearer. Kaen had already conceived his plan.
After sending forth his envoys, he penned two further letters, one bound for Rohan, the other for Gondor.
"To His Majesty King Thengel of Rohan, and to Lord Regent Ecthelion of Gondor," he wrote. "I, Kaen Eowenríel, Lord of Eowenría, send greetings and solemn tidings.
"Already, the hosts of the East gather under the will of the Dark Lord Sauron. Their strength is vast enough to imperil us all. I will not sit idly by and watch our fair lands ravaged by flame. Therefore, I propose an eastern campaign, a lightning war, to crush them before their blades are drawn."
"This host will consist solely of cavalry, no footmen. Each rider shall bear five steeds, three months' provision, and arms both light and heavy. With speed as our shield and surprise as our sword, we shall fall upon them like the storm from the West.
"If my lords share my vision, then send me your answer and with it, ten thousand riders each. Let us meet where our banners may unite under a single purpose."
…
Kaen would not summon the Elves to this war. This campaign was meant for Men, for Rohan and Gondor, to test their might and forge bonds of alliance for the days to come.
Mordor stood ever before Gondor's gates, and one day Kaen knew he would march there. When that time came, the strength of those two realms would be his greatest ally.
Half a month passed.
The answers came, from King Thengel of Rohan and from Steward Ecthelion II of Gondor.
Ten thousand horsemen each — the finest of their nations' strength. Every rider with five steeds, armed and provisioned for war. The expense would be immense; such a campaign would drain treasuries and test the will of kings.
Yet neither refused him. Both agreed with eagerness.
For the men of Rohan and Gondor had fought the Easterlings too many times before. Each battle had left scars, even in victory.
And Kaen Eowenríel's name had become legend, undefeated in every campaign, his victories spoken of with reverence. That he himself would lead this great crusade was a gift of fortune neither ruler would spurn.
Thus, King Thengel sent forth his marshal, a seasoned warrior named Wudred, to command ten thousand heavy riders under Kaen's banner.
From Gondor rode Denethor, son of Ecthelion II, at the head of ten thousand of Gondor's finest cavalry, pledged to follow Kaen's command.
…
The rulers of both realms were wise. They knew that to give command to Kaen was not to yield pride, but to gain victory.
When Kaen learned of their answer, he sent messages to Elarothiel and gave his orders. Aragorn would lead three thousand of the King's Guard, while Caden commanded seven thousand of the heavy horse. Together, they would ride swiftly east to join him.
Kaen gave special instructions, Aragorn was not to bear the sword Narsil nor wear the Ring of Barahir.
For among the new allies would be Denethor of Gondor, pure of Dúnedain blood and keen of eye. He would know such heirlooms for what they were, and Aragorn was not yet ready to bear that truth before the world.
…
The days of peace had ended. Kaen's brief season of love and rest was over.
He journeyed with Arwen from Golden Iris City, and together they sailed upon the river toward Lothlórien.
Before parting, Kaen took her hands and said, "When I return, the wedding shall be held."
Arwen smiled, serene and radiant, as though the light of Eärendil touched her face. "Will I be the only bride?" she asked softly.
Kaen's voice was gentle. "If you wish, we could hold a ceremony here in Lothlórien first."
But Arwen shook her head. "No. Cathril, Ameliah, Yenistriel and others….they love you as I do. It would not be fair to them."
Kaen kissed her brow tenderly. "All of you said the same words," he murmured.
…
He did not enter Lothlórien, but turned aside, making his way instead to Taurëmírë, where he would make ready for the coming war.
To Yenagath he gave command: "Make as much lembas as possible. We ride to the East soon, and these loaves shall be our strength on the long road."
Lembas, the waybread of the Elves, a single bite could sustain a grown man for a day, and its making was a secret art of their kind.
…
And so Kaen Eowenríel prepared for war once more, his heart divided between the love he left behind and the storm that gathered where the sun arises,in the east.