In Aragorn's Safekeeping

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters; I am only borrowing them for fun for a little while. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many thanks to J and Marsha for beta reading this chapter for me!

Words in [...] are elvish and individual words are translated at the end of the chapter.

Author Notes: I have included this quote from Tolkien because it seemed appropriate! "This story takes me in charge, and I have already taken three chapters over what was meant to be one! And I have neglected too many things to do it." (J.R.R. Tolkien, Letters, no.62)

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Chapter 28 – Coronations

Minas Tirith loomed above the company slowly making its way across the Pelennor as twilight beckoned. There was no sense of urgency, no quickened pace to reach the city before night fell as the approaching king intended to camp one final night outside the city gates before the formal crowning ceremony in the morning.

At the head of the column, Aragorn, who was surrounded by men he both loved and respected, felt strangely isolated as he gazed up at the White Tower that was turning pink in the light of the setting sun. He had come now to the place where others’ prodding, his own sense of duty and honor, and his own desires had led him. Part of Aragorn knew that, in some ways, the new challenges he faced in the years ahead would be as difficult as the ones just past. And he was not just thinking of wars fought on distant battlefields, though he knew there would be those, Aragorn was thinking of conflicts with his own people. Conflicts with advisors, councilmen, nobles, and merchants who would not approve of the way he ran the country as he sought to rebuild Gondor and Arnor from the years of war it had suffered.

Yet Aragorn knew that the joys of the coming years would far outweigh any difficulties he faced and it was those thoughts he clung to as he rode towards the city. The joys of marriage, of having children, of simply having a home after years of wandering, those were the things that made him look forward to becoming king tomorrow; not for the power and the prestige it gave him, but because it gave him the opportunity to do the one thing he had longed to do for seventy years – marry his beloved Arwen. Aragorn smiled as his gaze drifted down from the White Tower to the tents they were approaching.

Members of the Citadel Guard and some of his rangers had ridden ahead to secure the encampment and Aragorn tossed Roheryn’s reins to Laegrist as he dismounted. He smiled inwardly as he saw that the camp had been set up exactly as it had been at Cormallen. Arrangements had been made for Faramir to come down later to discuss the plans for the ceremony, but for now all that needed to be done was to enjoy supper and the company of his companions and Aragorn strolled to the fire where many of them had already gathered.

Supper was over and pipes were being pulled out when Faramir arrived. Aragorn saw him pause briefly at the edge of the small clearing, his eyes sweeping over the group, before striding purposefully forward. He smiled as he rose to greet him, “My Lord Steward, welcome.”

“My Lord King Elessar,” Faramir bowed deeply.

Aragorn glanced around the fire at his friends, “I believe you know everyone here.”

“Yes, my lord,” he bowed slightly to Rebecca, “It is good to see you again, Lady Rebecca.”

“Hello, Faramir,” she smiled.

Faramir turned to Frodo and Sam and bowed deeply once again. “Master Frodo, Master Samwise, I never thought to see either of you again so perilous was your path, that I do so brings me great pleasure.”

Sam turned pink and stuttered slightly as he said, “Hello.”

Frodo nodded as he quietly replied, “It’s good to see you again, Lord Faramir.”

Faramir and the rest of the group nodded and murmured quiet greetings before he turned back to Aragorn and the king motioned for his steward to take a seat on one of the small stools around the fire. “Is everything in readiness for the morning?” Aragorn asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, my lord. It took some time to find the proper ceremonial traditions in the records for the crowning of a king, but we eventually discovered what we needed in the library.” Faramir glanced at Rebecca with a faint smile.

“What does it entail?”

“After I return the Rod of the Steward to you, you take the crown and place it on your head yourself,” Faramir shifted his gaze to the ground for a moment. “There is no one else with the authority to crown you, my lord King. After that, Lord Húrin, Warden of the Keys, will open the barrier to the city for you to enter in. It is actually a very simple ceremony.”

“Hmmm,” Aragorn murmured, looking at Faramir thoughtfully, “I believe we must make some changes with these traditions, my Lord Steward.” Faramir’s eyes widened and Aragorn could almost feel him begin to panic. “Be at peace, Lord Faramir, these changes will not give you or your servants’ additional work, nor do I believe the people of Minas Tirith will be upset with them.”

“I am yours to command, my lord King, as are all of the people in this city.”

Aragorn suppressed a sigh even as he inclined his head in acknowledgement of Faramir’s words. “First, I will be giving you back your Rod of Stewardship, as I told you before I need you at my side and that has not changed,” Aragorn gazed steadily at Faramir until the Steward nodded once. “When you give me the crown, I will hand it to Frodo,” he glanced at the hobbit who had gasped in dismay. “Yes, Frodo,” he said gently, “I would not be here without you and would have you be a part of this with me.” Frodo nodded reluctantly. “I would ask that Frodo give the crown to Gandalf to place on my head, for without him none of this would have ever come to pass. He has sufficient authority to do this, I think,” Aragorn glanced at Gandalf with a smile that the wizard returned. “Does that sound reasonable, my lord Steward?”

“Yes, my lord,” Faramir looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, I think it suits very well indeed,” he smiled and nodded his head.

“And the other arrangements?”

“The royal apartments in the King’s House have been prepared for you,” Faramir glanced around the fire. “However, I also took the liberty of preparing the guest house where Mithrandir and Pippin stayed in the event some members of your Fellowship would be more comfortable there.”

Aragorn nodded, “Rebecca, Thomas and my brothers,” he glanced at Elladan and Elrohir who nodded, “will stay in the royal apartments. Where would the rest of you like to stay?”

Pippin spoke up, “I want to stay in the guest house, it has a kitchen so we can fix our own meals whenever we want!” Laughter broke out around the fire.

“I would also prefer to stay in the guest house, Aragorn,” Legolas said with a small smile, “I have been around royal courts enough in my life.”

Aragorn saw a flicker of disappointment cross Thomas’s face as the rest of the Fellowship members decided to stay at the guest house, but there was nothing to be done for it. He turned to Halbarad, “Will you camp here with the rangers or join me?”

Halbarad fidgeted slightly for a moment. “I will join you and leave Captain Caladithil in charge here, my lord.”

Giving his cousin a half smile, Aragorn turned back to Faramir, “Is there anything else?”

Faramir shook his head, “Just the feast tomorrow night and all those arrangements are done.” He hesitated, “Unless you have certain things you require for that.”

Laughing, Aragorn shook his head in return, “No, my lord, I will leave that matter in your hands.”

“Actually, I turned it over to the Master of Protocol and those used to doing such things, my lord, but I have complete confidence in them.” Aragorn nodded and Faramir stood to leave.

“Must you leave so quickly?” Aragorn inquired. “I had thought to send for Imrahil and your cousins to join us. Perhaps Éomer as well, I do not believe you have met him.”

“No, my lord. I mean, I don’t have to leave and I-I haven’t met Éomer King,” Faramir fumbled over his words, much to Aragorn’s amazement. He heard Rebecca start to giggle quietly beside him and he glanced at her sharply and she stopped though her eyes still danced with amusement. Glancing around the fire, he saw that Merry shared Rebecca’s amusement when the hobbit flashed her a quick grin and knew instantly it had something to do with Éowyn.

“Sit down then and I will send for Imrahil. Hinluin,” Aragorn called over his shoulder to the ranger standing quietly in the shadows near the tent. “Go and ask Prince Imrahil and his sons if they would join us.”

“Yes, my lord King,” Hinluin hurried off into the night and Faramir sat back down.

“Aragorn, I’ve been wondering why you are changing your name.” Thomas gave him a puzzled look. “Do all kings do that?”

“No,” Aragorn gave him a wry smile. “I just seem destined to have many names in my lifetime,” Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas laughed quietly. “A prophecy at my birth said I would be called Elessar, which means ‘elfstone’, by my people and refers to this,” he touched the glimmering green jeweled brooch on his tunic. “And in the Houses of Healing, the healers did indeed call me that. But that is not the only change,” he continued quietly. “I am naming my house Telcontar, which in the common tongue means Strider,” he glanced at the hobbits and smiled.

“Strider!” Sam exclaimed, “That will be part of your official name as king?”

“In elvish form, yes,” and Sam shook his head, muttering under his breath. Movement at the edge of the camp caught Aragorn’s eye and as Éomer and Éowyn entered the clearing he swiftly glanced at Faramir. His steward seemed to pale slightly and then set his jaw before standing and looking at him. Faramir seemed slightly startled to find Aragorn’s eyes on him, though he quickly recovered.

“Pardon me, my Lord King, but I would speak with Lady Éowyn and Éomer King for a moment.”

“Of course, my lord.” Aragorn glanced at Rebecca to see her eyes moving back and forth between Faramir and Merry and her eyes were once again twinkling with amusement. Curiosity getting the best of him, Aragorn scooted his stool closer to her as conversation continued around them. He leaned down and spoke quietly, “What amuses you and Merry so much, Rebecca?”

“Why, Faramir, of course,” her eyes losing none of their sparkle. At his steady regard, she sighed and explained. “Merry and I could tell how much Faramir loved Éowyn before we left Minas Tirith. Evidently she now feels the same way based on how nervous he is about meeting her brother. Though I don’t know how she can so quickly switch her feelings from one man to…” Rebecca’s voice trailed off at Aragorn’s sharp indrawn breath.

“You know how she felt towards me?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes watching her carefully.

“Yes,” she replied simply, giving him a puzzled look.

“Did Éowyn tell you this?”

Rebecca nodded, “We talked about it in Dunharrow the night I shared her tent. I-I knew you were upset…,” Aragorn frowned. “… and she said some things and… I just asked her.”

Aragorn gave her a searching look for a moment, “Yet you never said anything.”

“It wasn’t my place to say anything and it was obvious you didn’t feel the same way. We didn’t have a lot of time for talking after that if you’ll remember.” He nodded absently, his browed furrowed. “Aragorn, what’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?”

Aragorn took her hand and smiled gently, “No, Rebecca you did nothing wrong. Does Merry know how Éowyn felt towards me?”

“If he does, he didn’t hear it from me, I’ve never said anything to anyone.”

“Good,” Aragorn smiled with relief. “The reason I did not want others to know was to protect Éowyn’s reputation. If people, especially people of the nobility, heard that I had rejected her it might cause them to wonder if there was something wrong with her and I did not want that to happen. I do not always understand the ways of the nobility, but people get hurt by them nonetheless.”

“Oh,” Rebecca shook her head as she mumbled, “So very strange. I’m glad I didn’t say anything then.” She glanced at Éowyn, Faramir, and Éomer, “I think they’ll make an interesting couple, they are so different. Now, we just have to find someone for you and Éomer,” she smiled at Aragorn.

Aragorn coughed and dropped his gaze to the ground, “Yes, yes we will,” he murmured. He was saved from speaking further by the return of Hinluin who moved quickly to his side and spoke quietly.

“My lord, Prince Imrahil and his sons have gone up into the city. He received word that his wife, daughter and younger son have arrived.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn replied as Hinluin retreated back into the shadows. He turned back to Rebecca. “She is someone you will need to meet,” he commented.

“Who?”

“Prince Imrahil’s daughter, Lothíriel, she is near to your age, I think, maybe Éowyn’s age. But will be around the court here, whereas Éowyn will return home to Edoras.”

“Her brothers, Elphir and Erchirion have mentioned her several times. I like them, so I hope that she and I might become friends, though she doesn’t live here either does she?”

Aragorn shook his head, “No, in Dol Amroth, but Prince Imrahil spends a lot of time here and I imagine she will as well.”

Rebecca glanced over at Faramir, Éowyn, and Éomer, “Well, based on what I can see from here, I think that Éowyn will be spending time here in Minas Tirith.” She smiled at Aragorn and he returned his gaze to the three in time to see Éomer clasp Faramir’s hand tightly as a smile lit up Éowyn’s face.

“You may be right,” he agreed as he turned to survey the rest of his companions to find them all still deep in conversation with one another, though he noted Merry appeared less than attentive to what Pippin and Sam were saying as he saw his eyes stray to Faramir and the others. Aragorn saw with sorrow that while Frodo appeared to be listening to Sam and his cousins, the hobbit appeared to be lost in thought and he wondered if he would ever truly recover from his ordeal.

Éomer strode up to the fire and Faramir followed more slowly, leading Éowyn by the hand, a look of uncertainty on his face and a smile on hers. “Forgive me, my Lord Aragorn, my lady Rebecca, my lords.” Éomer bowed in Aragorn’s direction and Aragorn inclined his head with a faint smile and amused eyes as his gaze drifted to Faramir and he saw his steward beginning to pale at what his future brother-in-law was doing. Rebecca started to laugh quietly and Aragorn glanced at her to see her biting her lip to stop herself as Éomer continued speaking. “While we have been off at war, it appears my sister has fallen in love with a man of Gondor.” Smiles and grins broke out around the circle and whispers could be heard among the hobbits. Éomer reached back and took Éowyn’s hand and pulled her and Faramir forward. “Tonight, the Steward of Gondor has asked for my approval on their betrothal and I have given my consent.” Éomer smiled broadly and then leaned down and kissed his sister on her brow before clapping Faramir on his shoulder. Cries of congratulations broke out from around the fire.

Aragorn stood and crossed to Faramir, “Congratulations, Faramir,” he said quietly. “May you be blessed,” he smiled at his steward.

“Thank you, my lord,” Faramir glanced at Éowyn who was talking with Rebecca and Merry, “I know that I shall be.”

“How wonderful for you, Faramir!” Pippin’s eager voice sounded next to the two men and they both looked down at him and smiled.

“Thank you, Pippin, it is wonderful indeed.”

Aragorn left the two of them talking and moved to speak with Éomer and Éowyn knowing he needed to do so, though he did not particularly relish the thought of speaking with Éowyn, even under these circumstances. But, to his relief, a shadow seemed to have lifted from her and she greeted him warmly.

“My Lord King,” she bowed slightly, “It is good to see you once again.”

“And you as well, Lady Éowyn.” He smiled, “I wish you joy on your betrothal to Lord Faramir.”

“Thank you, my lord, he is a wonderful man,” she smiled as she glanced over at Faramir.

“It’ll be wonderful to have you living in Minas Tirith,” Rebecca spoke up with a grin.

Éowyn’s expression fell a bit, “It will be difficult for me, Rebecca, I am not used to walled cities. But, this is Faramir’s home and I shall adjust and knowing that you will be here will be a help for me,” she smiled.

“You will be missed in Edoras,” Éomer commented. “Yet it will be good to have our kingdoms bound even closer together,” his lips twitched with amusement as he looked at Aragorn.

“I am not marrying Faramir for political reasons, Éomer,” Éowyn hissed, glaring at her brother. “You can marry someone from Gondor for that reason if you want, but I am marrying for love.”

Aragorn saw a brief flicker of pain in Éomer’s eyes before he responded to his sister. “I was merely jesting, Éowyn. And while you may not have intended to marry Faramir for political reasons; there is no doubt that the marriage of the Steward of Gondor to the sister of the King of Rohan binds our kingdoms closer together.” He glanced at Aragorn and smiled, “Not that we can be much closer.” Aragorn nodded in agreement as Faramir joined them, noting absently that Thomas had also quietly joined them and now stood alongside Rebecca, holding her hand.

“When will you get married?” Rebecca asked.

Faramir and Éowyn glanced at each other and finally Faramir answered her. “It will be at least a year and a half, Lady Rebecca. We will not announce this officially to the people of Rohan until after Théoden King is buried.”

“Oh,” Rebecca grimaced as she looked at Éowyn, “So you won’t be living here in the city for a long time,” she sighed.

“We will be leaving in a few days,” Éomer informed her. “My men have been gone from their families and our land long enough and we only linger now to see Aragorn officially crowned.”

Rebecca nodded and stared at the ground, biting her lip.

“Come then, sit and enjoy this evening with us,” Aragorn invited, motioning towards the fire. They did so, sharing stories and laughing together until late into the night.

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Rebecca stood between Thomas and Merry watching Gandalf place the crown on Aragorn’s head… no, Elessar’s head. She was starting to separate the two of them in her mind. Kind, loving, often smiling, sometimes stern, fatherly Aragorn, from the lordly, remote, often stern King Elessar; not that he wasn’t both, but he just seemed so different when he was Elessar. She realized it was Elessar who was the warrior part of him and Aragorn was the healer side. She focused her attention back on Elessar as he began speaking in elvish.

“Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world.” **

Rebecca didn’t understand most of the words and she glanced up at Thomas and shrugged slightly at his questioning gaze before turning back to the ceremony. The crown Elessar now wore was white and had wings similar to the ones on the Citadel Guard’s helms, though these were made of pearl and silver. There were seven diamonds around the circlet and a single large diamond in the front that sparkled in the rays of the morning sun. She was glad she was Aragorn’s ward and standing in the front or she would never have been able to see. Thousands of people lined the walls of the city above them. Some well-dressed citizens pressed in around them, but mostly there were soldiers surrounding them. Suddenly horns, drums, and stringed instruments sounded and Thomas grabbed her hand and pointed up to the White Tower where the white banner of the Steward was being lowered and Elessar’s black banner was being raised. As they had been instructed to do, she and Thomas joined Faramir for the walk up to the Citadel. A group of rangers walked well ahead of King Elessar who walked alone, after a space he was followed by Frodo and Gandalf and then Faramir, Rebecca, and Thomas. Following them walked Prince Imrahil and his family, then Éomer and Éowyn, Elladan, Elrohir and the rest of the members of the Fellowship. The rest of the ranger honor guard trailed behind them and they were followed by many men and women of the nobility.

The cheering of the crowds was overwhelming as they passed through the streets and people threw flowers and soon Rebecca couldn’t even see the stones of the street so thickly were they carpeted with petals. “Talk about being in a parade,” she said, leaning over to Thomas and speaking directly into his ear. He nodded, looking around wide-eyed at the people that lined both sides of the streets and on the walls above them.

“I had no idea how many people lived here,” he commented.

It was a long walk up to the Citadel and the crowds thinned out by the fifth circle and on the sixth, only people from the Houses of Healing and from the large houses stood there to greet their new king. Thomas and Rebecca heaved sighs of relief as they passed the guards and entered the tunnel and ramp leading up to the Citadel. Thomas looked around curiously at the buildings that Rebecca had described to him in detail and his attention was drawn to the White Tower where the King was now leading them. They entered in and Thomas glanced briefly at the statues Rebecca had mentioned, but he mostly focused his attention on Elessar as he had come to call Aragorn whenever he wore the look he had on his face now. The rangers drifted to the sides of the large throne room, but everyone else followed after the king as he slowly made his way up to the dais. He stopped at the bottom step and everyone else stopped a short distance behind him, silently filling in the throne room. King Elessar bowed his head briefly and then straightened up and marched slowly, yet purposefully up the steps to his throne, pulling Andúril and laying it across his knees as he sat down.

King Elessar’s piercing grey eyes swept over the crowded throne room, his expression remote as he studied those in the room. Rebecca and Thomas glanced at each other from the corner of their eyes, though neither of them moved their heads. They knew what was supposed to happen and both were already nervous, but seeing him like this was not helping. They both started at the sound of Elessar’s stern, quiet voice that nevertheless carried easily throughout the room. “I bid you welcome to the court of King Elessar, Aragorn son of Arathorn, of the House of Telcontar. I especially want to welcome Éomer, King of Rohan and his sister, Éowyn and bid them sit in these chairs that have been provided for them.” He gestured to two chairs that had been set just to the right of the Steward’s chair. With a small bow, Éomer led Éowyn to the chairs and they sat down as Elessar continued. “Today is a day of rejoicing for the suffering of our people goes back for many generations. Our freedom has been restored by the grace of the Valar and by the sacrifices of many people across the lands of Gondor, Rohan, Arnor, and Rhovanion*. But it was not just men that have suffered and died through these dark years, there have been many dwarves and elves as well. The final victory, however belongs to two Pheriannath, or hobbits, who took the dark lord’s Ring to Mt. Doom and saw it destroyed. Our people must never forget that this victory was not accomplished by one man or a group of men, but by different races working together to destroy evil.” Murmurs and whispers could be heard behind Thomas and Rebecca and they glanced over to see Frodo and Sam blushing and staring at the floor.

Elessar held up his hand and the room fell silent. “As today is a day of rejoicing, I will only be conducting a few official matters this morning that cannot be put off. Over the next few days, there will be gatherings to reward men of particular valor, for judgments, and for vows of loyalty to be sworn to me. However, I have asked the members of Lord Denethor’s Council and those of the nobility to be here this morning to be witnesses for vows that could not wait.” He stood, sheathing his sword and walked down the steps, coming to a halt on the wide step that held the Steward’s chair, which was the second step above the floor.

Faramir quickly joined him and knelt, offering his sword. Elessar held it gingerly, extending the hilt back to Faramir which he held as he said his oath of loyalty to his king. “Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor and to the King Elessar, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my King release me, or death take me or the world end. So say I, Faramir son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor.”

“And this do I hear, King Elessar Telcontar, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valor with honor, oath-breaking with vengeance.” Elessar drew Faramir to his feet and returned his sword which the Steward sheathed before bowing deeply. Elessar embraced him and quiet words were exchanged between the two men before Faramir sat in his chair next to Éowyn. Elessar turned back to the room as Imrahil and his three sons strode forward and took their oaths. As his youngest son, Amrothos, was finishing, Rebecca started fidgeting, nervously smoothing down her dress. Thomas grabbed her hand and gave it a quick reassuring squeeze and a smile before releasing her. They looked at Elessar as he spoke once again. “The last thing I need to do is to introduce my two wards.” He beckoned them forward and Rebecca kept her eyes fixed on his so she wouldn’t hang her head. She heard murmurs and whispers once again, but Elessar smiled faintly as they approached. Standing between him and Thomas, she kept her eyes on the people she knew in the front row as Elessar explained. “This is Rebecca, daughter of Norton and Thomas son of Morgan. They have been in my keeping for some time as each of them lost their parents in tragic circumstances and I took them into my household for safekeeping.” With that, he turned and nodded at Faramir who rose and walked to the front of the dais.

“That ends this audience, lords and ladies. Go now and rejoice in the return of our king,” Faramir announced as he dismissed the people.

“Come,” Elessar said to Rebecca and Thomas, striding briskly off the back of the dais and into the hallway where he halted and looked down at them with concern in his eyes. “How do you fare?” he asked quietly.

Rebecca took a deep breath, “I’m just glad it’s over, Aragorn. We don’t have to do that very often do we?”

“No, though of course you will always sit at the high table at feasts and celebrations. You will be seated further down from me though and not the center of attention, as usually there will be guests in attendance. Thomas?” Aragorn looked at him questioningly.

“I’m all right, it was just strange.”

“It was for me as well,” Aragorn laughed, leaning against the wall. The sound of voices caused him to straighten up, though he relaxed again as Elladan, Elrohir, Éomer, Éowyn, Halbarad, and Faramir entered the hallway.

“Are you ready to see your new home, my Lord King?” Faramir asked as he approached. With a nod, Aragorn followed behind his steward, walking between Elrohir and Halbarad. Leaving the tower, the group approached the large, imposing King’s House that stood at the back of the Citadel with Mount Mindolluin towering behind it.

Faramir stopped in front of the middle entrance, “This is the door to the guest quarters, where chambers have been prepared for Éomer King and Lady Éowyn. She,” he indicated a maiden in the dark grey dress of a citadel servant, “will escort you to your rooms while I take my Lord Elessar to the royal apartments.” Faramir led the rest of the party down to the farthest entryway where, beside the guardsmen on sentry duty, a small group of men and women were standing also wearing the dark grey livery that indicated they were servants of the citadel.

Rebecca saw Lothrín there, she had been so glad that Aragorn had arranged for Lothrín to be her maid, the older woman was a comfort to her and she knew that having her here would help, especially when Éowyn returned to Rohan.

Faramir beckoned to two people and they came forward. “My Lord King, this is Master Belegion, the chamberlain for the King’s House, and who has been for many, many years. This is Mistress Nimrie, the head housekeeper for the royal apartments, and the rest of the members of her staff,” Faramir indicated the men and women who bowed or curtseyed as appropriate.

Aragorn looked closely at Belegion who oversaw the running of the whole building, from kitchens, to laundries, to maidservants, to menservants, to gardeners, this one man was responsible for it all and now, in addition to the care of the Steward, he had a King and his household to look after. The chamberlain bowed deeply, “My Lord King Elessar, welcome.”

“Thank you, Master Belegion,” Aragorn replied. “Did you select Mistress Nimrie and her staff?”

“I did, my lord. Mistress Nimrie has worked in the King’s House for fifteen years, and most of the rest of the servants have served here for at least ten. They are all well qualified,” Belegion hesitated, “except for one, but I believe she is here at your request.” There was a slight question in his voice.

“Yes, Mistress Lothrín is here at my request,” Aragorn replied in a pleasant voice though there was a stern look in his eye as he gazed at his chamberlain. “She is to be the personal maid for Lady Rebecca.” He turned his gaze to the servants waiting on the steps, “It is good to see you once again, Mistress Lothrín,” deciding to speak with her knowing that if Belegion was making this kind of comment that she was probably hearing things from the other servants as well and that a single word from him would enhance her status. Though, Aragorn knew perfectly well that she was able to take care of herself, even in the sometimes petty world of servants. “My lord,” she replied, giving him a knowing look and Aragorn smiled.

“Forgive me, my Lord King,” Belegion hastily said, “I meant no disrespect.”

“I am sure you did not, Master Belegion. Now, these are my wards, Lady Rebecca and Lord Thomas, my brothers, lords Elladan and Elrohir and my cousin, Lord Halbarad.”

“Welcome,” Belegion bowed and Nimrie curtseyed.

Aragorn turned his attention to Nimrie and smiled down at her and sought to put her at her ease, “I am sure that Master Belegion selected the appropriate person for this position, Mistress Nimrie and that you will serve me and my household well. If you will show us to our chambers we would be most grateful.”

“Yes, my Lord King,” she replied turning and leading them into the building and turning to the left. “Your chamber is on the main floor and is quite large, my lord,” she explained as she led them down a wide, well-lit hallway, with white marble floors and walls hung with tapestries that had pictures of past kings and historic events. “I wasn’t sure how you would like your wards and guests housed, but after talking with Lord Faramir, I have placed Lady Rebecca in a chamber on this floor and Lord Thomas, Lord Halbarad and your brothers on the second floor. They can be moved, if that doesn’t meet with your approval, there are two other chambers on this floor and one other chamber upstairs where Lady Rebecca could be housed,” Nimrie peered up at Aragorn anxiously.

“That will be fine, Mistress,” Aragorn replied. “I am sure that everyone will be pleased with the chambers you have selected for them.” He cast a sidelong look at Thomas, but he was studying the pictures on the tapestries they were walking past.

“Here is your chamber, my Lord King,” Nimrie indicated a wide doorway with a citadel guardsmen posted in front of it, who immediately opened the door for the party to pass inside. They entered into the large sitting room. The floor here was a dark wood and had deep green carpets laid over it in various places around the room, the walls were a light beige color. Across from the entryway, there were large windows and a door led out into a large, well-kept flower garden, to the left was a door to the bedchamber and a large stone fireplace. To the right, along the wall were several cabinets and bookcases. In front of the fireplace were several comfortable looking chairs, a couch and small tables. Another arrangement of chairs and tables was just to the right of the door that led to the garden. Colorful tapestries depicting woodland scenes lined the walls and a few small statues and crystal pieces were placed on various tables and the room had a warm, welcoming feeling. Aragorn nodded with satisfaction at his first impression as he crossed to the windows and looked out into the large garden, knowing Arwen would be pleased by it. He turned and smiled at Nimrie before walking into the bedchamber.

Aragorn frowned as he walked into the room. It was too dark. The flooring was the same as the sitting room, which was fine, but the walls were a much darker color and there was only one window. The bed was enormous and made from a dark wood, with a canopy and he grimaced inwardly, though he liked the light green bed covering that had embroidered trees around the edges. As he glanced around he noticed all of the furniture in the room was made of the same dark wood and he knew he could not stay in a room like this. Making no comment, he looked into the bathing room and found it more than satisfactory. Sighing inwardly, Aragorn returned to the bedchamber to see that only Nimrie, Belegion, and Faramir remained in the room. “The sitting room is wonderful, Mistress Nimrie,” Aragorn smiled. “However I find that I shall require some changes to my bedchamber.” He saw Nimrie’s face pale and Belegion stiffen. “Be at peace, Mistress Nimrie,” he said quietly. “It is the dark colors in here that are not to my liking, I was raised among elves and have slept long years out of doors and the lack of light and color in here would quickly wear at my spirit.” She nodded uncertainly as Belegion asked,

“What would you like to have done, my Lord King?”

“I am sure that there is other furniture around that is lighter in color, I would like the walls lighter as well. What is in the sitting room is fine and perhaps some of those bright tapestries as well. I do like this bed covering. Oh, and whatever bed you find, I do not want it to have a canopy like this. If it is possible, I would also like more windows and a door into the garden.” Aragorn thought for a moment and then nodded, “I think that is all that I require at this time.”

“I know we have the furniture available in storage, my Lord King,” Belegion said, “but the other changes will take time, several days at least.”

Nimrie looked stricken, “Forgive me, my lord for not thinking of these things.”

“Mistress Nimrie, you have never even met me, I do not expect you to know all of my needs or what I like and dislike.” He smiled, “I will allow you a day or two before I expect you to know those things.”

She gave him a tentative smile, “Yes, my lord. But where would you like to sleep while we do this work? As I mentioned, I have several other chambers available.”

Aragorn shrugged, “I will stay with one of my brothers or Halbarad so you do not have to set up another chamber for me.” He ignored both her and Belegion’s horrified looks and walked back into the sitting room saying, “Lead us to Lady Rebecca’s chambers please.” He motioned for her to precede him and waited for the others to follow the housekeeper out the door and back down the hallway and around the corner to the left. Maldathor was standing guard in front of a door and quickly opened it.

“Aragorn,” Elladan looked back at him and threw a quick apologetic glance at Rebecca. “As much as I would enjoy seeing all of the various rooms in your new home, I would prefer to be shown to my own chambers now and then come and look at these at another time.”

Glancing at Elrohir and Halbarad and seeing agreement in their eyes, Aragorn turned to Nimrie. “Mistress Nimrie, please have someone show lords Elladan, Elrohir, and Halbarad to their chambers while we continue,” he directed and after they left they proceeded into Rebecca’s room.

Rebecca stopped as she walked inside what would be her own sitting room. It was much smaller than Aragorn’s, but still larger than the combined living room and dining room in her house back home. The floor was the same dark wood as in Aragorn’s, but the carpets were a soft blue color that blended with the very faint blue color on the walls. The tapestries in this room were softer and showed scenes of the sea and were soothing to Rebecca as she looked at them. There were windows and a door to the garden on the right of the entryway and the fireplace and the door to the bedchamber directly across from the entryway. As in Aragorn’s sitting room there were chairs, couches, cabinets, tables, and bookcases in the room. Rebecca slowly walked around, randomly touching some of the statues and looking in the cabinets and sliding her fingers along the books, wondering what stories they contained. She looked at Aragorn and smiled. “Do you like it?” he asked quietly. She nodded, glancing at Thomas who was looking around the room and who smiled when he caught her eye.

“The bedchamber is in here, Lady Rebecca,” Nimrie said. “We didn’t know for sure your taste in things…,” Aragorn suppressed a grin, “…but for a young lady we picked things that we felt would be appropriate.”

Rebecca followed Nimrie into the bedchamber and her jaw fell open in disbelief as she looked at what the servants had prepared for her. The floors and walls were the same as the sitting room, but tapestries here were of flowers, except for one that looked suspiciously like Lothlórien, with gold and silver trees, and she glanced at Faramir, but he was studying a vase full of roses on a small table. There were several windows looking into the garden and a chair and small table, with an oil lamp, book, and more flowers placed upon it, were set near the window. The bed had intricate carvings on the light-colored head board and the four posts that led up to the soft white canopy. The bed coverings were of a slightly darker blue than the carpets and had flowers embroidered all over it. “It’s wonderful,” she said glancing between Nimrie, Belegion, Faramir, and Aragorn. “Thank you very much, Mistress Nimrie.” She knew Faramir had had a lot to do with this, but she decided to thank him privately.

Nimrie curtseyed, “I’m glad you like it, my lady.” She smiled and then looked at Aragorn, “Would you like to see the other rooms on this floor before I show Lord Thomas his chambers?”

“That would be fine,” he nodded, gesturing once again for her to lead the way.

Down the hall to the left of Rebecca’s room and also opening out to the garden was a large library and study. There were fireplaces at each end and bookcases lined each wall. Tables, chairs, and couches were placed around the room.

“This room was, of course, empty, my lord,” Faramir said gazing at Aragorn. “I asked that books be taken from the main library that I felt might be of interest, books of history, of languages, tales of Gondor and Arnor, things of that nature.”

Aragorn nodded with approval as he glanced around the room. “That was well thought of, Lord Faramir, I am sure this room will be well used.” He gazed at Thomas and Rebecca, “At least by some of us,” he added, as Rebecca was already pulling a book off the shelf and rifling through the pages. “Come, Rebecca,” Aragorn called with a smile as they headed back out into the hallway. She gave him a sheepish grin and followed along. Across the hall were two spare chambers which had large windows looking out across the Pelennor to the north. The last room on this floor was the large dining room where members of the king’s household and any guests he might have would eat their meals. There were actually two tables here, a round one that had room for ten people and was even now being prepared for lunch; and at the other end of the room, a long rectangular table that could easily seat thirty people. Again, windows looked out north and here the floors were not carpeted, but were highly polished. The walls were painted with muted murals of gardens, forests and the sea. Thomas walked around the room gazing at the murals and then stood looking closely at a forest scene.

“Do you paint, Thomas?” Aragorn asked quietly from right behind him.

Thomas jumped, startled. “Do you still have to do that?” he asked sounding irritated, though he had a small smile on his lips.

“You still need to pay attention to your surroundings,” Aragorn grinned. “But, I ask again, do you paint?”

Thomas shook his head, “No, but these are so lifelike and…” he shrugged looking around the room.

“Perhaps you should try it,” Aragorn suggested as they walked from the room and headed up the stairs.

“Me?” Thomas looked as startled as he had a moment ago. “I don’t think I could do that.”

Aragorn shrugged, “It is something you can try if you would like to, Thomas. Or, I remember in Lothlórien you appeared to be interested in pottery perhaps you would enjoy that.”

“Don’t I need to be learning a job or something?”

Aragorn looked at him with amusement. “All of your needs will be provided for and so while there are things you do need to learn, there is no reason that you cannot do some things just for your own pleasure and enjoyment.”

“Rebecca and I have been wondering what we would be doing,” Thomas admitted.

“In a few days, when things settle down a little, I thought the three of us could talk about those things,” Aragorn smiled. “I am sure you will find that there will be things for you to do, Thomas.”

“Good,” he sighed slightly and Aragorn clasped him briefly on the shoulder as they approached his room. One of the guards that had been assigned to guard him, Haloth or Sírdhim, he couldn’t tell which one with the helm he wore, opened the door as they approached.

The room was set up identical to Rebecca’s. The carpets here were deep, dark reds and the walls were a very light gold. The tapestries were pictures of battles and wars and Thomas turned away from them immediately. There was a door out to a wide balcony that overlooked the garden. In the bedchambers, the colors were the same and Thomas liked the bedcovering of red with embroidered stars and moons, but again the tapestries were of battles and he did not like them.

“Is this acceptable, Lord Thomas?” Belegion asked as they returned to the sitting room.

“Yes, except for,” he glanced at Aragorn who nodded for him to continue, “except for the tapestries. I would prefer something that does not show war, Master Belegion. I’ve seen enough of that in person. Pictures of forests or animals or the sea, anything like that would be fine.”

“Of course, my lord, those are easily changed. Is there anything else?”

“No, everything else is fine,” Thomas replied taking a last glance around as they left his chambers, shaking his head slightly at the thought of having this huge place to himself.

The rest of the second floor contained four more private chambers overlooking the garden, another large sitting room, and servant’s quarters, though those did not have entrances on to the main hallway. The tour complete, they walked back down to the dining room to join the others for lunch.

Rebecca saw Éowyn looking at her strangely as she walked into the dining room and she knew that Éomer had told her where she and Thomas were from. She swallowed nervously and crossed to the window where she was standing. “Éomer told you didn’t he?” she asked quietly after glancing around to make sure no servants could overhear. Éowyn just nodded, looking Rebecca up and down. “I’m the same person I was a few hours ago, Éowyn. I haven’t changed,” she said desperately. Rebecca so wanted a woman here that knew who she really was, someone she could talk with about so many things that she couldn’t share with Thomas or Aragorn.

“I know,” Éowyn sighed, turning and looking out the window. “It just seems impossible to me that… that it could be true. I am not sure that I believe it, that it is not some story that has been made up.”

“What? Why would anyone make up a story like that, Éowyn?” Rebecca looked at her in confusion. How could she not believe them when everyone else had?

Éowyn shrugged, glancing at her and then turned her gaze back out the window, “I know not, but how can there be other worlds… and then to just show up here like Éomer said…,” she shook her head.

“So,” Rebecca said slowly, “you think all of us, Thomas, Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, all four of the hobbits, Elladan, Elrohir, Halbarad, Faramir, and your brother are just, what? Making up a story? Lying to you, Éowyn?” Rebecca frowned. “I don’t know how many more honorable men you want to tell you it’s the truth before you believe them.”

Éowyn turned and stared at her for a long moment, her eyes narrowed and when she finally spoke her voice was so quiet that Rebecca could barely hear her. “No, of course they are not lying. It is just that for so long I-I could not trust some people… and it is hard sometimes to start trusting again. Forgive me.”

Rebecca nodded, “Yes, yes of course. I assume you are talking about Gríma?” Éowyn nodded. “I’m sorry, Éowyn and it would be hard to trust anyone after being around him,” she shuddered. “But you know these men aren’t like him.” Éowyn nodded again, although more slowly. “Well, I’m not like him,” Rebecca grinned. “I know it might be hard for you, but when we have time, will you at least listen to me and make up your own mind?”

“I do believe you, Rebecca. When you say it that way… it is foolish of me to think that so many good and honorable men and elves could be deceived in that way. And, yes I would like to hear of your… home, strange as it might be to me.”

“Good,” Rebecca sighed, “I have so wanted to talk to a woman that knows who I truly am, Éowyn. There are some things that I just can’t talk about to Thomas or Aragorn.”

“I imagine not,” Éowyn finally smiled, “I do understand what it is to be surrounded by men most of the time.”

Grinning, Rebecca led the way to the table for lunch.

0-0-0-0-0

Well, Rebecca thought as she and Thomas slowly walked into Merethrond behind Elessar, he might have been honest when he mentioned they wouldn’t be seated next to him at the high table, but that didn’t mean people wouldn’t stare at them when they walked in with the new king. Taking a deep breath as they started down the aisle that led to the table, Rebecca tightened her grip on Thomas’s arm and then glanced around the crowded room out of the corners of her eyes. Almost everyone was focused on Elessar and the people who were looking at her and Thomas were mostly young and had expressions of curiosity on their faces. She suddenly realized that just a few weeks ago she had been running and fighting for her life and now she was nervous to walk down an aisle because people were staring at her. Shaking her head slightly at how ridiculous she was being, she loosened her grip on Thomas and straightened up, smiling. Looking ahead at the high table on the raised dais that they were rapidly approaching, she realized that she knew everyone who was there, though she had not actually met Imrahil’s wife, Elphir’s wife, or Lothíriel. As they reached the table, Thomas squeezed her hand and, giving her a look of regret, walked to the other end of it, while she followed Elessar. For some unknown reason, they had been separated and Rebecca was seated between Pippin and Elrohir and Thomas was sitting between Legolas and Gimli. By the time they had found out where they were sitting it had been too late to do anything about it, but they had been assured it would not happen in the future.

0-0-0

Thomas gave a small sigh as Rebecca walked away and then he turned and went to his seat between Legolas and Gimli. Well, he hadn’t spent much time with them lately, he thought, though it was hardly the same thing.

“Missing her already?” Gimli’s gruff voice broke into his thoughts and Thomas could see a tiny spark of amusement in the dwarf’s eyes.

“Who?” Thomas asked, trying to look confused and failing miserably and he finally laughed quietly, well aware that they were in front of a large room full of people.

“I believe that Master Gimli is talking about a certain beautiful young lady that is seen quite often in your company,” Legolas said.

“Ah, that young lady,” Thomas shook his head, “yes, I do believe I know who you are talking about now.” He frowned as he glanced between his friends, “The master of protocol, whoever he is, decided to put us at opposite ends of the table and it was too late to fix it when we found out. Aragorn said it wouldn’t happen again,” he shrugged.

“I don’t know about you, Legolas, but I’m starting to feel offended that the lad doesn’t want to sit by you.”

“No, Master Dwarf,” Legolas gave him a serious look, “I am quite sure that it is you that he does not want to sit by.” Both elf and dwarf turned their gazes on Thomas.

“Actually, I would prefer not to sit by either of you, but I’ll suffer quietly for the sake of keeping peace at this first feast of King Elessar’s,” he gave a long suffering sigh and gazed out over the large hall where people were beginning to eat.

Gimli started to laugh quite loudly and Legolas just smiled and shook his head before turning to his meal.

0-0-0

Aragorn studied the hall full of people, picking out the few that he knew. The councilmen Faramir and Imrahil had pointed out to him, or the older men and women that he had known when he was here as Thorongil, though few of those remained. He idly wondered how many of them would recognize him. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched the people… his people celebrate their freedom and their new king. With a start he realized that the musicians were getting ready to play and it was time for the dancing to begin. Dancing was not his favorite thing to do, unless it was with Arwen, but as the King it was his responsibility to start the first dance. Another reason he needed his beloved at his side as soon as possible he thought. Aragorn considered the possibilities of which of the ladies to dance with, there was Éowyn, Imrahil’s wife, Elphir’s wife, Lothíriel, or Rebecca. Éowyn and Lothíriel he dismissed immediately, he did not want any rumors started about a possible relationship with either of those women. And as he really did not enjoy dancing with other people’s wives, he finally decided to at least ask Rebecca, though he knew she probably be extremely uncomfortable and he did not know if she even knew how to dance or if the dances in her world would be similar. In all likelihood he knew he would probably end up dancing with Imrahil’s wife, but he wanted to avoid it if he could. “Pardon me,” he said to Éomer and Imrahil as he rose to his feet and walked quickly down the table to where Rebecca was laughing quietly with Pippin while Elrohir was looking on with amusement. Aragorn crouched down between Rebecca and Elrohir’s chairs. “Rebecca,” he said very quietly, “will you dance the first dance with me?”

Rebecca just looked at him and then gazed out at the dance floor before looking back at him. “But I don’t know any of your dances, Aragorn. Besides, I’d probably trip and fall,” she grinned.

“Not if I were holding you.” He gave her a thoughtful look, “So you would do it if you knew the dance?” Aragorn was surprised at her willingness.

“It would not be my favorite thing to do, no, and personally I think you should dance with one of the pretty women here,” she smiled. “But, yes, I guess I would if I knew the dance.”

Aragorn glanced at Elrohir, [“There are some easy dances and I am sure she could do one of those since she obviously knows how to dance.”]

[“Why do you not just dance with someone else, muindor nín?”]

[“My heart is not here, Elrohir, it is in Imladris.”] The elf gave him a compassionate look and gazed at Rebecca thoughtfully who was starting to get a panicky look on her face, not understanding what they were saying, but nonetheless getting the gist of the conversation. Aragorn turned back to Rebecca, “There is a very simple dance and I am sure you would do well, you just have to trust me and follow my lead.”

Licking her lips nervously, Rebecca looked out at the dance floor once again and back at Aragorn. “Why won’t you dance with someone…” Realization hit her, “You already have someone, don’t you?” Aragorn nodded and Rebecca saw longing fill his eyes. “Who is… never mind. If I dance with you will you tell me about her?”

Aragorn’s eyes sparkled with amusement, “Yes, my lady, it seems like a fair exchange.” He glanced at Elrohir, [“This is probably not the time to tell her I was going to speak with her about Arwen soon.”] Elrohir laughed quietly as Aragorn turned and beckoned a page to him, giving him instructions to take to the musicians. As the boy hurried off, Aragorn stood and held his hand out to Rebecca to help her rise. She was trembling slightly and gave him a weak smile as they left the table.

“Will other people join us after we start dancing or do we have to dance the whole dance alone?”

“Others will join us.” Rebecca gave him a relieved smile. “I am amazed, Rebecca that you even considered this,” Aragorn commented as they approached the dance floor.

“I’m sort of amazed too, but when we walked in here I realized that I was being sort of foolish to be so nervous about these people when quite recently I was running and fighting for my life against men and orcs,” Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t know, it just sort of helped me, if I could do that, this should be easier.”

Aragorn laughed quietly as he led her out onto the dance floor, “Indeed, it should be. Now, just follow my lead and look at me, not at your feet. Are you ready?” At her nod, Aragorn turned to the musicians and they started playing. Rebecca kept her eyes fixed on Aragorn’s and found that the dance was surprisingly simple and she was able to block out the fact that people were watching them. In a relatively short time, the floor was filled with other dancers and she relaxed and enjoyed the dance.

“I wonder if Thomas dances.” Rebecca said thoughtfully, trying to see him through the crowd of dancers surrounding them. Aragorn smiled slightly. “I doubt if he does,” she sighed, “he left school so early and I only went to a few dances myself.” Aragorn gave her a warning look as he glanced around. She sighed again as she nodded and he gently squeezed the hand he was holding.

0-0-0

Thomas watched Aragorn and Rebecca dance with a touch of jealousy. Not that he could dance himself, but still he would like to be out there holding her and moving her around like that. It amazed him to see her out there and he wondered how Aragorn had been able to talk her into it. He took another sip of his wine and sat back with a sigh.

“When are you going to marry her?”

Thomas looked up into Éomer’s amused eyes, wondering where Legolas and Gimli had disappeared to. He glanced around before he answered, something he was getting very tired of having to do. “Aragorn said we have to wait at least a year. I guess a betrothal time is at least that long. Rebecca’s young and he wants us to get settled here,” Thomas shrugged.

Éomer nodded, “Aragorn wants what is best for you and Rebecca. So, you have asked her to marry you and she has accepted?”

Thomas blinked his eyes several times and just stared at Éomer. “Well…no… I just assumed…”

Éomer laughed and slapped him on the back. “Thomas, you cannot ‘assume’ anything. You need to ask the fair maiden and get her guardians approval. The one year betrothal period will not start until you are actually betrothed.”

“Valar,” Thomas swore, blinking again at using that particular word. “I never thought of that, Éomer. What do they do here? Where I came from, we would usually take a girl to a fancy restaurant, a place to eat,” he explained at Éomer’s look of confusion, “or someplace special and ask them to marry us and then give them a ring. Is it the same here?”

“In Gondor, there is usually an exchange of silver betrothal rings and at the wedding you receive gold bands, but I am not aware of other customs. You should speak with Faramir, perhaps.”

Thomas nodded, “Maybe I could combine what they do here and what was done where I came from.”

“I would like to hear more of your home.”

“This is my home, Éomer, but I would gladly tell you about where I came from.” Éomer nodded and Thomas began to tell him about the place he grew up.

0-0-0-0-0

A knock on the door pulled Rebecca from sleep and she groaned, rolling over and burrowing back down into the softness of the bed. She froze for a moment wondering where she was and as awareness dawned tried to drift back to sleep. In Cormallen her old habit of wanting to sleep late returned and a glance out the window told her it was dawn. The feast had ended very late and as she had no real plans for the day, she ignored the second knock on the door. The door opened anyway and Lothrín walked in.

“It’s time for you to get up, Lady Rebecca,” she said quietly.

Rebecca rolled over and looked at her with a frown, “Why? It’s so early and I don’t have anything to do today. At least I don’t think so.”

Lothrín laughed softly, “You have breakfast at the first hour, my lady and you need to get ready for that.”

Rebecca translated the time in her head. The first hour meant an hour past dawn or about seven a.m. With a sigh, she got up and made her way into the bathing room where Lothrín had set out a pitcher of hot water for her use. When she was finished, she made her way back to the bedchamber to find Lothrín had opened one of the large wardrobes where a variety of gowns hung. She looked at them skeptically for a moment, they all appeared too fancy for everyday wear. “Is there nothing… simpler to wear?”

Lothrín gave her a look of sympathy, “No, these are the simple, everyday gowns for a young lady of your station to wear.”

“I suppose that none of these closets… wardrobes have leggings and tunics?”

Lothrín shook her head, “No, you only have the set you brought with you, which is being laundered.”

“I can’t wear dresses everyday! What will I wear when I want to practice archery or when I want to go riding?” she cried with frustration.

Lothrín patted her arm and spoke softly, “I know you are not used to this, Lady Rebecca and it will take you some time to adjust to your life here. I suggest you speak with,” Lothrín hesitated briefly, “your father about this.”

Rebecca threw her a startled glance and then slowly nodded, “I will.” She looked again at the gowns, choosing one and quickly getting dressed for the day ahead.

0-0-0

Thomas and Rebecca strolled across the courtyard heading for the ramp that led down to the lower circles of the city. It was a beautiful spring morning and they were going to visit the shops on the fourth circle before eating lunch with the Fellowship. Aragorn had given them freedom to wander as long as they had their guards and as long as they returned in time to prepare for the formal dinner Prince Imrahil was hosting that evening. Tomorrow they had to attend the audience Aragorn was holding, but today they just planned to explore the city. Aragorn had given each of them money and explained what each coin was worth, though signet rings were being made for them so that in the near future they would not have to carry money at all.

It suddenly occurred to Thomas that he actually had no idea when the shops opened and he stopped and looked back at his guard. “Are the shops even open at this time, Sírdhim?”

“Yes, my lord, most of them open at the third hour.”

“Thank you.” Thomas glanced up at the sun and guessed it must be somewhere around nine and so the shops should be open. “I wish I had a watch,” he whispered to Rebecca.

She smiled at him, “There are other things I’d rather have.”

“Like what?”

Rebecca furrowed her brow in thought for a long time and then laughed as she finally confessed, “You know I really can’t think of anything.”

“Nothing?” Rebecca shook her head and looked at him with a questioning expression. Thomas narrowed his eyes as they walked along, “Well, I’d like…,” he shook his head in defeat. “I guess there really isn’t anything.” He grinned, “Though I suppose a car would be fun.” She laughed, shaking her head.

They wandered down the side street where some shops seemed to be located and started looking in the windows to see what interested them. Most of the shops were things like bakeries and butcher shops and sold practical, everyday items. Rebecca smiled though when they came to a shop that sold books. “Can we go in here, Thomas?”

“Aren’t there enough books in the library?”

“It’s always just fun to look and besides those aren’t my books.”

Thomas just gestured towards the door, deciding not to point out that since they had been given the money by Aragorn, it wasn’t any different than the books in the library – it was all his. Though, he realized that wasn’t totally true, Aragorn had given them the money to buy whatever they wished and so it was now their own. It was going to take some getting used to, to just be able to spend money however he wanted to, without having to think about the future.

“May I help you find something, my lord, my lady?” the shopkeeper asked, looking from Thomas and Rebecca to Gílorn, who was standing just inside the door, while Sírdhim waited outside.

“No, thank you, I just want to look around,” Rebecca smiled at the man, who bowed. She wandered to a shelf and started browsing through the books, while Thomas looked at some of the other things sold in the shop. There were a few pictures on the walls and he glanced at those and then his gaze fell on a calendar and he tried to remember when Rebecca’s birthday was. He knew it was sometime around his, but whether it was before or after, he couldn’t remember. And, even if he could remember the actual date, he didn’t think it would match up with the calendar here. This one looked… odd. There were twelve months on it, but there seemed to be extra days stuck in here and there. Thomas decided to buy one and ask someone to help him and see if he could figure out the dates compared to earth and then try and remember Rebecca’s birthday. He picked up one of the calendars and walked over to see if Rebecca was finished.

“Are you ready?” he asked quietly, trying not to startle her.

Rebecca smiled, “I could be here for hours, Thomas, but we can leave. I did find one book,” she looked at what he was holding. “A calendar?”

He nodded, “I didn’t see one around the…,” he paused, puzzled. “It’s not a house… do we call it the palace?” he whispered.

“It’s called the King’s House, so house works,” Rebecca shrugged. “Why are you buying a calendar?”

“I wanted to figure out when we… arrived and how this calendar works. It’s different than what we’re used to.” He showed it to her and she studied it for a moment.

“Each month has thirty days and then…,” she pointed to some days that didn’t seem to belong to a month. Rebecca frowned and then glanced at the shopkeeper who was watching them. “We can ask Gandalf or someone to help us,” she whispered.

“What’s your book about?”

“It’s poetry.”

“Oh, I never liked poetry very much.”

“It’s not for you,” Rebecca said, turning and walking to the counter. Thomas followed with a slight frown on his face. They fumbled with the strange money and left carrying their purchases in their hands wishing they had a bag of some type. Noticing people seemed to use baskets to carry things, they stopped and bought one at a small stand. They wandered in and out of several more shops before entering one that sold jewelry.

“May we be of assistance, my lord, my lady?” the shopkeeper asked with what Thomas thought was an annoyingly fake tone of voice, though the woman had a pleasant smile.

“No, thank you,” Thomas replied, nodding in dismissal and Rebecca almost giggled. He had unconsciously picked up so many of Aragorn’s mannerisms that it almost always made her want to laugh. Thomas gave her a suspicious look, “What?”

“Nothing,” she smiled and walked over to look at some necklaces. He scowled at her as she walked away bef