In Aragorn's Safekeeping: Life in the King's House

Author’s Notes: Thanks, as always, to J and Marsha for checking over the chapter for me. Words in italics indicate the words are being spoken in Sindarin (elvish). Any translations will be at the end of the chapter, but I think most of them are fairly well known.

Chapter 8 – Reunions

Aragorn walked with Dúrvain and several other men through the largest of the Pelennor villages. The sounds of children laughing and playing, bleating goats, squawking chickens, and the more distance lowing of cows filled the air. Dúrvain, the mayor of the village, paused frequently to show his King where things had been destroyed during the great battle the year before. Located close to the Rammas Echor on the north side of Minas Tirith, the village had, like almost all of the villages, been overrun by the enemy. However, they considered themselves fortunate that none of the great oliphaunts had stumbled through the village. Many of the houses and outbuildings had escaped with relatively minor damage, and the villagers that had survived had begun rebuilding as soon as they’d returned from the evacuation refuges in the mountains or from their duties with the army.

“Here, my Lord King,” said Mayor Dúrvain as they walked down a lane bordered by low rock walls and he turned, opening a creaking wooden gate that led out into a recently planted field. “This is Pador’s field.” He gestured to a stooped, grey haired man whose eyes were shadowed with grief and, yet, his expression was strangely hopeful. Aragorn remembered that he and his wife had taken two orphaned brothers in as wards and thought perhaps that accounted for his expression. The small group of men followed Pador out between the rows of wheat, the leaves of which were just barely poking up through the ground.

Aragorn crouched down and gently touched a few of the tender shoots. He glanced up at Pador. “It appears to be healthy. Did you plant anything last year?”

Pador scowled and shook his head. “No. I didn’t get back from the refuge in time to plant anything. My lord,” he added after a pause.

Standing and dusting off his hands, Aragorn studied Pador for a moment and glanced briefly at the other men who were studiously avoiding his gaze. He tried to remember if he had heard anything about any sorts of delays regarding the return of the refugees to their homes, but nothing came to mind. But it had been a very busy time and he had been in Cormallen when most of the people should have come home. “I see. Was there a reason you were delayed, Pador?” Aragorn asked. “I thought most refugees returned home as soon as the war ended.”

“My daughter was sick,” was all the farmer would say on the matter and Aragorn did not press him. Pador turned back to his field. “I hope to get a good yield this year; sitting fallow for a year won’t hurt the land any.”

“And we were fortunate over here,” one of the other farmers commented. “We didn’t have as much… blood spilled on our land.” It was quiet for a time.

Aragorn began walking slowly toward the other side of the field. “How much wheat do you hope to get from this land?” He gestured around him, meaning not just Pador’s field but the fields belonging to all of the farmers of the village.

Mayor Dúrvain was slow to answer. “In the past, an average year we’d get fifteen bushels an acre, a few more bushels and it was a good year. If we can get twelve bushels, we’d count it a good year, my lord.”

“Our people need whatever your lands can produce,” Aragorn said bluntly, looking at the men in turn. “There have not been any severe shortages yet, but things could become difficult if our farms do not produce as we hope.”

“We’ll do our part but we can’t control the weather, King Elessar.”

Aragorn glanced at the farmer who had spoken and nodded his acknowledgment. “Nor can I, but I am asking you to do what you can to increase your yields.”

“My lord,” a call from Laegrist standing near the rock wall of the field made Aragorn turn towards the Ranger. “I believe that Lord Faramir’s party is returning.” He pointed in the direction of Osgiliath where a group of horseman could be seen riding toward Minas Tirith. Aragorn smiled and nodded.

“It appears so.” Aragorn turned to his other guard, Remlas who had recently arrived from the North with messages from the Steward of Arnor. “Go and inform Queen Arwen and Lady Rebecca that Lord Faramir is returning and send one of the guardsmen to tell the Steward to wait and that we will be joining him shortly.” Remlas bowed and jogged off. The King turned back to Mayor Dúrvain and the farmers. “While I cannot control the weather there is something that I can do to help you this year. I am reducing your land rent by half.” There were gasps and exclamations of surprise by the men and their eyes lit up. Aragorn held up his hand to stop their questions.

“It is only for this year,” he cautioned them. “It was hard to convince the Royal Council to do this as we need the rent income for so many other things… so much has been destroyed.” Aragorn ran his hand through his hair and began walking back toward the gate where they had entered the field. “However, right now food is what is most needed.”

“Thank you, King Elessar,” said Mayor Dúrvain, smiling. “That’ll help us more than you know.” There were murmurs of agreement and relieved smiles from the others.

Aragorn nodded as he followed the mayor through the gate and down the lane toward where Arwen and Rebecca were having tea with some of the village women. Evidently feeling more comfortable with their king now, some of the farmers began speaking more freely with him and Aragorn found himself hard pressed to answer all of their questions as they quickly walked through the village.

After taking his leave of Mayor Dúrvain and the villagers, Aragorn strode over to join Arwen and Rebecca who were waiting for him just outside the village gate. Aragorn suppressed a grin at his daughter’s barely veiled impatience as she shifted restlessly from foot to foot, reminding him of the horses that had been brought around and stood, stamping their feet and snorting. He well understood her feelings, though, having suffered through many such separations himself. After giving Arwen an amused glance he turned to Baisael who had stayed with the horses and overseen the guardsmen patrolling the perimeter of the village throughout the afternoon.

“Everything is well?”

“Yes, my lord. We sent the messenger off as you asked and the men are here and ready to depart at your command.”

“Thank you. Have the men mount up then. I believe that Lady…” Aragorn’s voice trailed off as he heard the sound of fast approaching horses. He quickly turned, his hand on his sword hilt and he stepped in front of Arwen and Rebecca. After a moment he dropped his hand away from his sword and chuckling he stepped aside so he no longer stood in front of his wife and daughter. He heard Arwen’s light laughter and Rebecca’s indrawn breath.

“Baisael,” he called, “have the men step down. We will be staying for a few minutes longer.”

“Thomas,” Rebecca said half under her breath as the three horses reined to a stop not ten yards away. Thomas leaped from Baldor and raced to Rebecca who had not moved. Ignoring everyone around them, Thomas wrapped his arms around Rebecca and began kissing her eagerly. Rebecca put her arms around his neck in response and returned his kisses just as fervently. Aragorn smiled and shook his head slightly as he looked at Eradan and Hinluin who were still on their horses.

“Evidently he missed her,” he commented dryly. The two Rangers grinned.

“I think he wanted to gallop all the way home today,” said Eradan, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I believe he only restrained himself because he didn’t want to be teased by Prince Legolas and Gimli, my lord.”

Aragorn laughed and turned to Thomas and Rebecca who had not released each other yet. After a quick glance at Arwen whose eyes were twinkling, he loudly cleared his throat and when that had no effect, he spoke.

“Thomas, I am glad that you have returned safely, ion-nín.”

Thomas started, as if suddenly aware of where he was and what he was doing. He stopped kissing Rebecca but he did not release her, though she dropped her hands from around his neck as he half turned to face Aragorn. He smiled sheepishly.

“Hello, Adar,” he glanced at Arwen, “Arwen. It’s very good to be home.”

“Indeed.” Aragorn smiled, glanced briefly at where Thomas’s hands still rested possessively on Rebecca’s waist but made no comment. They were not in the city and he doubted that any of the guardsmen would be troubled by such a display.

“I have missed you, Thomas,” said Arwen. “It will be good to have you home again.”

“Thank you. It was a long time, a lot longer than I thought it would be.” Thomas finally released Rebecca’s waist and instead took ahold of her hand as he gazed down at her.

“It was,” Rebecca whispered softly, her eyes shining as she smiled at him.

“Well,” said Aragorn, after a long moment when the two young people only looked at each other, “I believe it is time to join Prince Faramir and the others so we can return to Minas Tirith. I am sure that they would appreciate a good meal and a comfortable bed this night.”

“I know that I would,” Eradan spoke up from behind him. Hinluin nodded his agreement when Aragorn turned to look at his long time friend.

That comment caught Thomas’s attention and he looked over at the man who had been shadowing him for the past month and grinned. “Yes, and some privacy would be… nice.”

Eradan chuckled. “I’m sure it would, my lord.”

Aragorn understood immediately what had happened and resolved to speak with Thomas later even though he did not appear unduly upset by Eradan’s close watch over him. He called over to Baisael, “Have the men mount up.” After a brief glance at Thomas to make sure he and Rebecca were actually mounting their horses and not just standing still gazing at each other, Aragorn walked to Arwen.

“Three more weeks,” he murmured as he helped Arwen onto her horse. Arwen laughed softly, glancing over at the two young people.

“Rebecca would quickly correct you and tell you it is only nineteen days, beloved.”

Snorting softly with amusement, Aragorn pulled himself into the saddle. After seeing that everyone else was mounted he urged his horse forward.

0-0-0

Sitting on the bench near the fish pond Thomas kept glancing over his shoulder at the door leading into Rebecca’s chambers as he waited for her to join him. His hair was still damp from the very quick hot bath he’d taken; he’d been too anxious to be with Rebecca to spend much time cleaning up. He knew they’d have more time after supper but he wanted to see her now. Shifting restlessly on the hard bench he stared down at the slowly moving fish wondering what was taking her so long. The sound of a door opening made Thomas jump up and he couldn’t stop the quick look of disappointment that crossed his face when Aragorn stepped out into the garden.

Aragorn grinned and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I will leave as soon as Rebecca joins you, Thomas.”

“No… it’s all right,” he said, trying to be polite even though he desperately wanted to be alone with his soon-to-be wife.

Chuckling, Aragorn shook his head and sat down on the bench. Thomas slowly sat back down. “Truly, ion-nín, I will speak quickly and leave. I do know how you feel.”

Thomas sighed and smiled. “I suppose you do. Is something the matter? Or did something happen while we were gone?”

“Many things happened while you were away, but I will speak to you and Faramir about those tomorrow. No, I wanted to speak with you about Eradan. It was quite obvious that something occurred between you two and while you did not seem particularly upset about it, I would like to know what happened.”

“Oh.” Thomas stared into the pond wondering how to explain to Aragorn how overprotective the Ranger had been. It was true he’d planned to talk to Aragorn about it, but he wasn’t prepared to talk about it right now. Not when he wanted to speak with Rebecca. He finally gave a small shrug and looked at Aragorn.

“He insisted on guarding me too closely and even when I asked for more privacy he wouldn’t move the men away,” explained Thomas, trying to be matter-of-fact and not actually complaining. “He was very polite and reminded me that you had charged him with my safety and he wasn’t going to let you down. I’m used to my guard here, Adar, but I think you sent too many considering all the White Company men that were with us. Besides,” he added, with a touch of annoyance creeping into his voice, “I can use my sword.”

“I see.” Aragorn studied Thomas for a moment. “Next time I will ensure that your guards stay a little farther away then. I know that having personal guards can be… difficult at times but it is something you must become accustomed to and it has nothing to do with whether or not you can use your sword. I am rather good with my sword,” he said with a small grin, “and yet I have guards.”

“But there were so many other men there,” Thomas protested.

Aragorn nodded. “I know, and they were there to protect everyone… the group as a whole. If you had been attacked Eradan and the others would not have left your side whereas the other men might have. Eradan is right, I did charge him with your safety and he would not take that charge lightly. None of my Rangers would. You are my son and they will always err on the side of caution where you are concerned… and with Rebecca and Arwen as well. I do hope that in time such caution will not be needed; that any orcs that are still roaming our lands will be killed. But, for now, you will have to have such protection when you travel in the wilds… to places like Ithilien.”

Thomas blew out a long breath and then nodded. “But…” he paused and reconsidered his words, knowing he really had no choice but to accept Aragorn’s decision. “Well, at least your Rangers are quiet,” he finally said with a small smile.

“They have had many years to practice that skill,” said Aragorn with a smile of his own. He changed the subject. “May I see the pictures you drew?” he asked, motioning toward the drawing pad lying on the bench next to Thomas.

Thomas hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to show Aragorn the pictures; it was just that he wanted to show them to Rebecca first. “Well, I…” Aragorn interrupted him.

“Do you want to show Rebecca first?”

“Yes, but I’ll show you later… at least some of them,” he stopped when the sound of a door opening reached his ears. He stood and stepped toward Rebecca before remembering Aragorn’s presence and he glanced back. But his father was already walking away toward his own chambers and Thomas dismissed him from his mind as he smiled at Rebecca.

Taking her hand he drew her to the bench and the two of them sat down, their fingers still intertwined. Thomas gently stroked her cheek for a moment before pulling her toward him and softly pressing his lips against hers. With an eagerness that surprised him, Rebecca pulled his head down and kissed him passionately, her lips parting invitingly. Thomas began running his fingers through her long hair as his tongue lightly ran across her bottom lip. He could feel her pulse quickening as he slowly and deliberately began kissing her along her jaw until he reached her ear and then moved down to her throat.

Thomas shivered as Rebecca began running one hand through his hair and the other hand trailed slowly up and down his back. But several moments later he gasped in dismay when she pulled away, placing her hand on his chest to keep him back.

“Stop, Thomas,” she said, her face flushed and her breath slightly accelerated. “I can’t… we can’t do this.”

Sitting back with a deep, long breath, Thomas nodded. “No, we can’t.” He took her hand and caressed it gently as he gave her a small, strained smile. “But in a few more weeks we can.”

Rebecca squeezed his hand but didn’t respond, asking him a question instead. “Tell me about your trip.”

“Besides the fact that it was too long?” he asked as he picked up his drawing pad.

“It was just as long for me,” Rebecca reminded him, “and I don’t have any pictures to show you.”

“I really wish I’d had a camera,” said Thomas, frowning as he flipped through his pad. “I couldn’t really capture everything.” He shrugged. “But, I tried.” He stopped at a drawing and showed it to her. “It took Legolas forever to find the right place. We went from meadows to woods to fields. This was one of the places I liked; it’s right by the Anduin.” He pointed to the river in the background. “But Legolas didn’t,” he added with a wry smile.

Rebecca smiled. “This is pretty. Why didn’t he like it?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, shrugging. “He tried to explain but I could never quite understand what he was saying.” He laughed. “I think he asked the trees.”

Laughing, Rebecca nodded her agreement as she tugged on the pad. Thomas held onto it for a moment and then reluctantly let it go. She slowly turned the pages as he explained them. All of the pictures were landscapes except for one very rough sketch of a group of people sitting around a fire. He sighed when she got to that page. Just looking at the picture brought back all of the frustration he had felt the day he’d drawn it. As much trouble as he’d had capturing the beauty of the landscapes, trying to draw people was much more difficult. The perspectives seemed off and none of the faces looked like the people he’d been trying to portray.

Rebecca studied the picture and then looked at Thomas. “You don’t like this one?”

He blinked and his brows drew together into a puzzled frown. “No, I don’t. It’s not any good and if it wouldn’t ruin the pad I’d tear it out.”

Lightly tracing a few of the sketched figures with her finger, Rebecca slowly shook her head. “Well, then I’m glad you can’t tear it out, Thomas, because you need to keep it. I know it’s not perfect,” she said, smiling a little at his deepening frown, “but parts of this are really good. The way they’re sitting looks natural… well, except for… is that Gimli?” Thomas nodded.

“He was sort of leaning back against a log to smoke his pipe and it was hard to get that angle. But the others look all right?” he asked, cautiously.

“Yes. I wish you had finished more of it. But, really, the way they are sitting and the fire are all very nice and… I can sort of tell who they are.” Thomas grimaced. “You haven’t done very many people yet and you haven’t even been drawing for very long, you know you’re going to get better.”

“I know. I just really wanted to get at least one picture of them around the fire and I was frustrated when I couldn’t get it right. I ended up sparring with Faramir a little later,” he said, grinning, “and that helped me get rid of my frustration… at least until Legolas had me show him my archery skills. He wasn’t impressed and so for the rest of the trip he worked with me every day. I imagine I’ll be practicing everyday while he’s here.”

Rebecca laughed. “Good. You need to get better so we can go hunting.” She told him what Aragorn had said about them leaving and going hunting for a few days and Thomas smiled.

“A very good reason to practice. Here, let me show you the place Legolas is going to live and Henneth Annûn before we have to go to supper.” He flipped to those drawings and spent the next little while sharing stories of those places with his betrothed.

0-0-0

Thomas tried not to fidget. He was not a little boy and men about to get married did not fidget. But standing still while Master Dorlas made adjustments to his clothing was difficult at best. He had already had one fitting for his wedding clothes before he’d gone to Ithilien and making these minor adjustments seemed unnecessary to him. The only positive thing that he could see was that it delayed his return to his lessons for an hour or so. His arguments to Aragorn that he was so behind on his work that he should skip lessons for a few more days had fallen on deaf ears. His father had simply smiled and shaken his head as he nudged him out the door. At least Rebecca would be with him during those lessons, he thought with an inward smile.

Wincing when a wayward pin stabbed him and drew him away from his thoughts, Thomas merely murmured a quiet acceptance of the tailor’s appalled apology before turning his thoughts back to Rebecca. She had been incredibly busy while he was gone, busier than he had been. Sitting on the back of a horse and riding around Ithilien could hardly be counted as work he admitted to himself. He hoped they would have time in the next few days to visit the orphanage that she had enthusiastically told him about. It saddened him to think that so many of the children had not yet been placed in homes and that they might never find homes for the children. Growing up without a father had not been easy but at least he’d had a mother to love and care for him.

“How does that feel, Lord Thomas?” Master Dorlas inquired.

Thomas looked down at the black tunic. He didn’t know what sort of material it was made of, but it was thicker and softer than his everyday clothing. Sort of like velvet, he thought as he rolled his shoulders and stretched out his arms. The Royal Seal of Gondor was embroidered in silver thread on the left side of his chest; and the cuffs and hemline had stars embroidered on them.

“It feels fine, Master Dorlas. It’s not too tight anywhere.”

“Not under your arms? I thought it might be under your arms,” said Master Dorlas. Thomas frowned as the tailor began fussing with the tunic again.

“No, it feels all right,” said Thomas, resisting the urge to jerk his arm away from the tailor. A knock on the door filled him with relief and he nodded at his manservant Rosruin to open it while he stepped away from Master Dorlas. He was somewhat surprised to see Arwen there but he smiled as she entered the room. Perhaps she’d be able to convince the tailor that the clothing fit perfectly well and send the tailor away.

“Master Dorlas, what a beautiful tunic,” said Arwen after she greeted the tailor. She looked closely at the stitching while Thomas once again stood stock still but he blinked in surprise when she winked at him. He wasn’t sure what he’d seen. Arwen had never done anything like that before and surely she wouldn’t do it with the tailor in the room even though the man was standing behind him pulling on his collar and talking on and on and could not have seen her. But Arwen’s eyes were twinkling and Thomas knew that she had indeed winked at him, and he grinned back.

“Thank you,” said Arwen when the man slowed for a moment. “You do indeed do wonderful work and the king and I have been well pleased with it.” Master Dorlas beamed with pleasure. “I need to speak with Lord Thomas so I would ask that you step into the hall for just a moment.”

“B-but, Queen Arwen, his clothes… shouldn’t he change first?” the man asked with a worried frown.

“He will not sit down and the clothing will not be harmed in any way,” she replied. The tailor cast a doubtful glance at Thomas and slowly left the room followed by Rosruin. When he was sure the door was closed, Thomas gave her a grateful look.

“Thank you,” he said fervently.

Arwen smiled. “You remind me of my brothers; I seem to recall that when they were much younger neither Elladan nor Elrohir enjoyed standing still while Naneth or one of the seamstresses was adjusting their clothing. Your tunic does look very nice and will go well with Rebecca’s gown. However, that is not what I came to speak with you about. Estel sent me a message and part of it is for you and Rebecca. Éomer sent a rider ahead and his company will be arriving tomorrow afternoon.”

“They weren’t supposed to be here for another four days,” Thomas exclaimed, appalled at their early arrival. He and Rebecca would have very little time together alone once the guests started arriving.

“I know,” said Arwen with an understanding smile. “Estel sent a message to Master Dolgaran informing him that you and Rebecca would not be having lessons until sometime after the wedding.

Thomas face lit up and he grinned. “That will give us a little time together then. I’ll change and…”

“Not until Master Dorlas is satisfied,” said Arwen. She stopped him from retreating into his bedchamber by placing her hand on his arm. The young man groaned. “I believe he is almost finished, and if he does not do it now then he will have to return another day.”

With a slight scowl that made Arwen laugh, Thomas strode purposefully to the door and threw it open to beckon the tailor back inside. The sooner he got through this, the sooner he could go find Rebecca to spend the day with.

0-0-0-0-0

“Enter,” called Aragorn at the sound of knocking on his office door. He set down the paper he was reading and rubbed at his eyes. It was late afternoon and it seemed as if all he’d done today was read - petitions from lords and merchants, dispatches from scouts to the south and east of Gondor, and studying several ancient tomes to review a number of obscure points of Gondorian law that he vaguely remembered from his time as Thorongil and which he hoped would help him with some of the petitions. While any sort of interruption would be welcome, his eyes brightened when Eradan and Halbarad walked into the room. Aragorn stood and walked around his desk.

“I believe you are early… and I thank you for that,” he said, smiling.

Halbarad glanced at the desk and back at Aragorn. “I’m grateful that most of the work you’ve given me keeps me outdoors much of the day,” he said with a small laugh.

Aragorn motioned them toward the couches and chairs around the hearth and the two Rangers settled comfortably into seats there while their king poured cups of wine which he handed to them before sitting down himself. “Did you have any success today with the Stone Masons Guild?”

“Regarding that section of the wall on the third level?” asked Halbarad. Aragorn nodded as he sipped at his wine. “Oh, there was a bit of discussion about it,” he continued with a faint smile, “but we were able to come to an agreement when Gimli showed up and talked some sense into those men. They didn’t know what to make of him and his rumblings about listening to the stones and ‘poor workmanship’ and needing dwarves to make it right.” Halbarad sighed. “Some of those guild members are every bit as hard headed as members of your council, Aragorn.”

Eradan chuckled. “I’m sure it’s why Lord Aragorn sent you to deal with them, Halbarad, you’re just as hard headed,” said the Ranger, grinning. Halbarad simply glared at his long time friend while Aragorn laughed and nodded his agreement.

The three men sat for a time drinking their wine and speaking of various things, reminiscing about things they had done together as young men as well as some of the things they had done separately as they patrolled the vast reaches of Eriador. Finally, Aragorn steered the conversation toward the future, more specifically, toward Eradan’s plans for the future.

“Eradan, you know that Balrant and Laegrist are leaving right after the wedding to go and bring their families here. Hinluin and Baisael are staying here and Remlas will stay until I have need to send him North, which may not be until sometime after Balrant and Laegrist return. But I do not know what your plans are. I know you never came with the intention of moving here; and I know you have your wife and daughters to consider…”

“And grandchildren now,” Eradan interrupted.

Aragorn nodded with a small smile. “And, grandchildren, though I still find that hard to believe. Your brother and Balrant have indicated that they want farmland for their families and there are many empty farmsteads close to the city that they may choose from – places where Laegrist and Balrant may even return home at night I think.”

“Laegrist mentioned it to me,” Eradan murmured, staring into the unlit hearth.

“If you decide to stay and you would prefer to do something other than guard me and my family then you have only to ask.”

Eradan shook his head. “It’s an honor to guard you, my Lord King Elessar and if I was to move here then it makes no sense to do something else, something that would take me from your side. I’m sure that Lanthir would be willing to make the move, especially since Laegrist and his family would be here. But I worry about my youngest daughter and her husband. His mother is in poor health and my wife has been a help to them for several years. But to serve our king…”

“This is not an order, Eradan. I will not order my people to leave their homes in the North to come and serve me in the South.” Aragorn smiled at his visibly worried friend. “There are still many things that need doing in the North.”

“Alvist will need help,” said Halbarad. “Just rebuilding Annúminas will take years.”

“Are you trying to get me to stay in the North?” Eradan asked Halbarad, a faint smile turning up the corners of his lips.

Halbarad snorted softly. “No. I want you here if only to help me keep him,” he nodded at Aragorn, “from forgetting where he came from; someone must take him out of this place occasionally and into the woods where he can hunt. I figure you and me are the best ones to do that.”

“It would keep him humble at least,” said Eradan, not looking at Aragorn. “Although, I do think that we’ll have to let him get a larger deer once in a while, Halbarad. He is the king now and I’ve heard that kings can be touchy about things like that.”

“Hmmm, that’s true…”

Aragorn had heard enough and he interrupted their jesting even though he was not truly bothered by it. Not too much anyway. “Kings can assign Rangers to posts that are far, far away from their loved ones,” he said fixing the two men with a stern glare. Eradan and Halbarad simply laughed. Aragorn sighed and brought the discussion back to the subject they had been discussing.

“Eradan, all I ask is that you speak with your wife and consider moving here. You know me well enough to know that I will not be upset or angry if you choose not to come. However, I do have one thing I would ask you to do before you leave and it will keep you from traveling with your brother and Balrant unless they are willing to wait for another month or so.”

“How may I serve you, my lord king?”

A small smile crossed Aragorn’s lips. “I am not sure that you will enjoy this much.” Eradan shrugged. “There is a wedding custom where Rebecca and Thomas are from and Arwen and I would like to honor that custom. I cannot remember what they call it, but after the wedding the couple goes on a trip by themselves for a number of days.”

“I remember them telling us that,” said Halbarad. “When Arwen arrived and they thought the two of you would take such a trip.” Aragorn nodded.

“And you want me to guard them?” asked Eradan with a slight frown beginning to furrow his brow. It deepened at Aragorn’s nod. “I’m not sure that I’m the best person for that, my lord. Lord Thomas was most unhappy with me during this last trip.”

“So he told me when we spoke the day you returned. I explained the reasons behind the need for personal guards even when there are many others around and he seemed to accept that, though I’m sure it will continue to be difficult for him at times… especially on a trip like this.” The men grinned. “However, I did tell him I would ask you to guard him from a little farther away.” He paused briefly. “I will leave it up to you how far that is. In any case, except for Halbarad whom I cannot send, I trust you the most to protect them.”

“Thank you, my lord. Where are they going? To that place that you and Arwen went?”

“No. Arwen and I considered that but we are going to send them to Dol Amroth.” The two Rangers looked truly startled.

“Why there, Aragorn?” asked Halbarad in a tone that was almost demanding.

“How will we get there?” asked Eradan at the same time.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at Halbarad’s tone but said nothing about it. “Dol Amroth because it is a city I know they would like to see. The two of them are more accustomed to cities than we are and Arwen and I felt it was appropriate. They are going by ship; two days after their wedding they will leave here with Prince Imrahil and his family and they will stay in the castle for two weeks before returning home. That should give them enough time to explore the city and the surrounding area. They should be gone about a month if the weather holds and the ship has no problems crossing the Bay of Belfalas.”

“I’ve never been on a ship like that,” Eradan commented, “but I’ve heard some men get sick.”

“Some do, especially if the winds are strong and the sea is rough. But it is a beautiful way to travel and will get you to Dol Amroth quickly.”

“Who else is going?”

Aragorn hesitated. He was not sure that Eradan would agree with this, not after the recent trip to Ithilien. “I would like to send just you and their regular guards with them.” He ignored the raised eyebrows of both men. “You will be in a city, not Ithilien and they normally only have a single guard.”

“But here there are guards at each gate and they can easily get help,” Eradan protested. “And what about the trip itself? What if the ship is attacked?”

“Dol Amroth is as well protected as here,” Aragorn replied. “Swan Knights patrol the city. When you arrive, if you feel that you need more men then you can ask the Prince for some of his knights. As for the journey, I am willing to trust that you and the other four guards can protect them… you and the rest of Imrahil’s men.”

Eradan gave a reluctant nod. “Then I suppose that will be enough.”

“You could send me or Baisael… Hinluin is too young, I suppose,” Halbarad said.

“I am not sending you because you are family and the point is for them to have time together without their family, Halbarad,” said Aragorn, suppressing a smile at his cousin’s protectiveness. “Baisael is not going because that would be too many people. They will be fine, Cousin.” Halbarad scowled and looked away.

“This is a secret known only to Arwen and myself… and to Prince Imrahil and his family. I intend to tell Rebecca and Thomas at the wedding celebration.”

“I will not speak of it,” Eradan promised. “At least not to them. But I’ll need to tell my brother and Balrant something since we’ve already talked about the journey home.”

“You can speak openly with them; I am not concerned that they would tell Rebecca or Thomas.”

It was quiet for a few minutes and then Eradan looked at Aragorn. “I must go home and speak with Lanthir about moving here; it’s not something that I will simply write and ask her about. If she is willing, then we’ll return in the fall with Laegrist and Balrant and their families.”

“Thank you,” was all Aragorn said.

“Do you intend to ask others to move here?” Halbarad asked Aragorn.

“No… I had not planned to do so. Although others may come once it is learned that some of our people have moved here.”

Halbarad nodded as he glanced out the window. “Aragorn, forgive me, but I’m meeting Camíriel for supper and it grows late.”

Grinning and biting back the jest he had on his lips, Aragorn only said, “Go and enjoy yourself.” He waved his cousin toward the door before exchanging an amused look with Eradan as Halbarad hurried from the room. Aragorn stood and slowly walked back to his desk with a resigned sigh escaping his lips as he sat down. Eradan followed and gazed down at the piles of paper before giving his friend a sympathetic look.

“Do you not have clerks that can do this?”

Aragorn slumped back into the chair and chuckled. “I have many clerks and secretaries and yet there are some things that I must tend to myself. Faramir helps me, his pile is higher than mine most of the time. It is a large kingdom, Eradan and there is much to do to heal the land from the long years of war.”

Eradan frowned. “It’s too bad Alvist was needed in the North, you could have used him here.”

“But I needed a Steward for Arnor and he was the best man for that.”

“I know. I just hate to see you having to do this sort of work.”

“It is not so bad,” said Aragorn, smiling. “Against all hope the enemy has been defeated and we have peace after thousands of years. And,” he added as his smile widened into a grin, “I have Arwen. I count myself blessed to have her at my side. I am content.”

“Then I can hardly complain on your behalf!” said Eradan turning toward the door. “I have duty in the morning so I’ll bid you good-night, my lord.”

“Good-night,” Aragorn said as he watched the Ranger walk through the doorway. He stared after him for a moment lost in thought before he shook himself and turned back to his papers with only a slight grimace.

0-0-0-0-0

The Eagle and Dragon Inn was crowded with workers. Most appeared to be stone masons who were repairing the walls on the second level, though some were obviously shopkeepers. It was so crowded that Maldathor and Haloth were not able to find a separate table near Thomas and Rebecca. Instead, Maldathor joined a group of three people at the table next to theirs while Haloth stood nearby.

Rebecca tried to ignore the looks she and Thomas were receiving as they ate their lunch. Even though the room was crowded and other people were standing – some eating and some waiting for tables, it was hard to miss a uniformed Citadel Guard and people were craning their necks to see whom he was protecting. It was unusual for them to draw this much attention but she decided it was probably because they didn’t normally spend a lot of time down in this part of the city. They had eaten at the Inn once before but that had been a supper and it hadn’t been crowded.

“Eat,” Thomas urged Rebecca. “We’ll leave as soon as we’re done.”

“I know,” she replied as she took another bite of the baked fish. “At least the food is good.”

“That’s why this place is crowded.”

Rebecca smiled and looked around. “And because there isn’t anyplace else to eat on this level.”

“That too,” Thomas conceded.

“Did you talk to Legolas and Gimli about the wedding ceremony? They know what they’re supposed to do?”

“Do? What do you mean? They stand by me and Legolas holds the ring.”

“Well, yes, but they have to get there early and they have to dress nicely… I wonder if I should talk to them about their clothes. They should wear something silver to go with what you’re wearing. Legolas probably has clothing that color but I doubt that Gimli does.”

Thomas stopped her from continuing by placing his hand on her arm. “I think we’ll let them decide what to wear, Rebecca. You know Legolas will wear something nice and Gimli will probably wear whatever he wore to Aragorn and Arwen’s wedding.”

Rebecca gave a reluctant nod. “I suppose you’re right. I just want everything to look perfect and…”

“It’ll be fine, Rebecca. No one will notice what they’re wearing besides you and Arwen,” Thomas interrupted, grinning. “Are you done? I want to go to the orphanage before Éomer and Éowyn arrive.”

After taking one last bite of her bread and a swallow of water, Rebecca nodded. Thomas motioned the serving girl over and paid the bill before helping Rebecca make her way through the crowded room and out the door. They stepped out into the bright May afternoon and stood blinking against the sun glaring off the white stone walls of the city. After a moment they began to walk slowly up to the fourth level pausing occasionally to look in a shop window. As they were turning down the street that led to the orphanage the sound of a horn caught their attention and they stopped, surprised.

“That’s a Rohan horn,” Thomas said, turning and looking back down the main road.

“They’re earlier than I thought they’d be,” Rebecca murmured as an answering horn came from the Citadel above them. Neither of them thought the party from Rohan would arrive until much later in the day - around sunset. She sighed inwardly, disappointed that her day with Thomas had not gone as planned but, at the same time, very excited to see Éowyn and Éomer again.

“Should we stay here to greet them or start walking home?” she asked Thomas who was still staring down the road.

“What? Oh, we might as well wait for them here; they’ll be here soon enough.” He gave her a small smile. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to go to the orphanage, Rebecca, but we’ll come back. I hope we’ll have time soon, but it probably won’t be until after the wedding now.”

Rebecca took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry too, but it couldn’t be helped. Maybe we’ll be able to sneak away for a little while in the next few weeks, but you’re probably right and we’ll have to wait. It’s not that long now.”

“It’s long enough,” muttered Thomas with a look that was full of longing. Rebecca tightened her grip on his hand briefly before she walked over to look in a shop window as they waited. It was a linen shop and she stared at the display of both plain and intricately embroidered wares being sold. It amazed her that women could do such finely detailed work. Arwen was teaching her embroidery but so far it had been more a frustration than a pleasure. The small calluses on the tips of her fingers left by her bowstring didn’t help with guiding the fine thread, but she had no plans to give archery up. Not for embroidery. She turned when Thomas called to her.

“They’re coming. Well, if the sound of many horses coming up the road is to be believed, I think they’re coming.” Thomas grinned as he held out his hand to her. Rebecca took it and they edged further out into the road as Éomer and Éowyn rode around the corner and into view. The two rode side by side speaking to the people who hailed them for they were immensely popular in the city. Saving the city during the War of the Ring would have brought them much honor by itself, but the betrothal of Éowyn to Faramir had only solidified the love the people of Minas Tirith felt for Éomer and Éowyn.

“They’ll never hear us,” Rebecca said, laughing lightly as she watched.

“Oh, yes, they will,” Thomas replied as he released her hand. “We have them with us,” he gestured over his shoulder at their guards and beckoned Haloth to him. “We want to go out a little bit into the road so that they hear us. Will you go first so they see you and stop? I’m sure they’ll stop once they see your uniform.”

“Yes, of course, my lord.” Haloth bowed and began edging his way through the growing crowd. Thomas and Rebecca followed with Maldathor providing protection in the back. The crowds muttered against Haloth’s pushing but their protests ceased when they saw who it was and the four of them quickly reached the road and stepped out into as the party from Rohan neared.

A look of genuine surprise on his face, Éomer reined to a halt. The king called to Éowyn, who was half turned in her saddle and she also drew to a halt, a smile lighting her face when she saw who was standing in the road.

“Well met, my lord king. Welcome to Minas Tirith,” Thomas said with a slight bow and a wide smile. Greeting Éomer by his title was partly in jest and partly an acknowledgment that they were in a very public place. Éomer laughed loudly. Jumping down from his horse and striding over he clasped Thomas’s arm in a firm warrior’s clasp and he whispered into Thomas ear briefly.

“Well met indeed, boy.” Éomer grinned and spoke aloud while Thomas chuckled. “Thank you for your warm welcome, Lord Thomas. Lady Éowyn and I are glad to be back in this city once again and most especially for such a happy event.” The King turned to Rebecca. “It’s good to see you again, Lady Rebecca,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it.

Rebecca curtseyed as she greeted him; something she did quite well now having had much practice in the art since she’d been in Middle-earth. “Welcome, Éomer King. I’m glad you and your sister could come.” She turned, smiling, to Éowyn who had joined them. “It’s so good to see you, Éowyn,” said Rebecca. She hesitated for a moment and then reached out and patted her friend’s arm. She didn’t think Éowyn would appreciate or allow her to embrace her, but she was very glad to see her again and needed to express that in some way. Éowyn surprised her though by grabbing her hand and squeezing it briefly.

“I’m glad to see you too.” Éowyn looked around. “Is… is Lord Faramir not here to meet us?”

Thomas and Rebecca exchanged amused looks. “I imagine he’s at the Citadel anxiously waiting your arrival,” Thomas said in a low voice as he kissed Éowyn’s hand in greeting. “Rebecca and I are not really your official greeting party, we were just here in this part of the city when you arrived. Come,” he said as he cast a look around at the growing crowd and listening ears, “we should go and greet them.” Éomer nodded and turned to the small party accompanying him; most of the Riders were staying in the Guard barracks and had been directed there by the guards at the main gate.

“We’ll walk from here,” Éomer directed and the men and women of the party dismounted. “Alric, please take Firefoot and Windfola.”

“Yes, lord, of course,” the young man in the livery of a Rider of the King’s House called back.

“Do you want to send someone ahead, Éomer? Adar might get concerned if you don’t show up as quickly as you should. Walking takes quite a bit longer than riding,” Thomas pointed out.

“Faramir is the one who’ll be concerned,” Éomer snorted as they began to walk up the sloping road that eventually led to the Citadel three levels above them.

“If Lothíriel were here we’d be riding,” Éowyn said with the faintest of gleams in her eyes.

“Perhaps,” was all Éomer said as he gave his sister a sidelong glance before turning and motioning for Marshall Elfhelm to join him. “Send a Rider ahead to inform King Elessar that we’ve arrived and will be joining him shortly.”

“At once, Éomer King; I’ll go myself.”

“No, send one of the others and come walk with us.” The Marshall nodded and hurried back to the rest of the party from Rohan and soon a Rider went riding past on his way to deliver the message. Elfhelm rejoined them and Rebecca and Thomas greeted him. They didn’t know him well; Rebecca a little better than Thomas for the Marshall had come to visit Éowyn in the Houses of Healing, but they had spoken with him on several occasions during the trip to Rohan the previous summer.

Answering the well wishers in the gathering crowd left little time for talking as they made their way up through the city. Most comments were directed to the King and his sister but there were plenty directed at Thomas and Rebecca once their presence was noted. Entering the sixth circle, with its large homes for the nobles as well as the Houses of Healing, brought a welcome respite from the crowds of the lower levels as most of the nobles would be gathering at the Court of the Fountain and a sigh escaped the lips of Éowyn that Rebecca heard quite clearly.

“It’s not quite like this in Edoras, is it?” Rebecca said with a sympathetic smile.

“Of course not,” replied Éowyn shaking her head as the two of them were finally able to speak to each other while Éomer directed his men to take the horses to the stables. “I don’t know how you can live like this… I don’t know how I will,” she added after a brief pause.

“It’s not usually like this, Éowyn. Thomas and I go out frequently and most of the time we’re ignored. Of course there are people that speak to us, but that happens to you in Edoras too. I know it does because I saw it happen. Once you’ve lived here for awhile people won’t pay so much attention to you.” Rebecca could only hope she was right about that. Éowyn had killed the Witch-king and she was marrying the much beloved Steward of Gondor - the attention might never stop.

“I know everyone in Edoras so it’s hardly the same thing,” Éowyn pointed out. “Minas Tirith is so big and has so many people.” She looked around and lowered her voice. But they had fallen well behind the others and the group with the horses had turned off to the stables. “Are there more people here than where you’re from?”

Rebecca had to think for a minute. “I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so especially because there was another, larger city across the river from mine. They called them the Twin Cities.”

Éowyn stared at her for a moment and then shook her head with a rueful smile. “I can hardly complain about simply moving to a different country to be with the man I love after all you’ve had to endure, can I?”

“Well, you can,” Rebecca said slowly, unable to hold back a small laugh. “I am content here, Éowyn. I am soon to marry the man I love and I have a loving family. It’s a good life.”

“I can tell. You seem happier and I don’t think it’s just because of your wedding,” Éowyn gave a small shrug, “although it could be. You just seem… different than the last time I saw you.”

It was Rebecca’s turn to shrug. “I suppose I am, a lot has happened since then.” She looked ahead and suddenly realized how far back they had fallen from the three men. “We better catch up, or your brother will be greeting Faramir before you will.” Éowyn looked ahead and nodded and the two women increased their pace and caught up just as the men paused at the tunnel that led up to the Citadel. Éomer turned and looked at them.

“I thought perhaps you were hesitant to see Faramir again, Éowyn. You haven’t changed your mind, have you? It’s not too late to break the betrothal.” The King of Rohan’s eyes glittered with amusement. Thomas and Marshall Elfhelm stared off into the distance, but Rebecca could tell that Thomas at least was fighting to stop from smiling.

Shaking her head and scowling at her brother, Éowyn simply marched past him into the tunnel. Rebecca grinned at Éomer before following her friend and she heard the men chuckling as they walked behind them.

As they came out of the tunnel Rebecca and Thomas hung back to let Éomer and Marshall Elfhelm join Éowyn as they walked across the Court of the Fountain to the White Tree where the official welcoming party was waiting to greet Éomer and Éowyn.

“What were you two talking about?” Thomas whispered.

“Living here in the city, she doesn’t like the idea because it’s so big. What were you talking about?”

“Ships,” he replied, grinning. “Ones with white swans on blue sails.”

Rebecca held back her laughter. “When are Prince Imrahil and his family supposed to arrive?”

Thomas shrugged. “In the next few days, but it depends on the wind.”

They stopped speaking as they reached the group gathered at the White Tree. They watched in silence as Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, and Halbarad greeted Éomer, Éowyn and Elfhelm. It took them by surprise to see Camíriel standing with Halbarad, but then realized that it only made sense to begin having her included in these sorts of things. Watching Faramir greet Éowyn caused Rebecca a sympathetic pang that the two of them had been parted for so long and that their wedding was still several months away. The official part of the greeting was finished when Aragorn looked at Rebecca and Thomas.

“Thank you Lady Rebecca and Lord Thomas for interrupting your plans and escorting Éomer King and Lady Éowyn here from lower in the city, it was well thought of,” he said, smiling. Rebecca saw the amused twinkle in his eye and knew that his words were mainly for the benefit of the large group of nobles standing behind and to the left of him and Arwen. As neither she nor Thomas were appropriately dressed for an official function such as this, it was Aragorn’s way of trying to stifle any gossip that was sure to arise because of their more casual clothing. Rebecca and Thomas nodded and murmured their acknowledgements and Aragorn continued speaking, turning to face the crowd.

“There will be a welcoming feast this evening to honor my brother, Éomer King and his sister Éowyn, the betrothed of Prince Faramir, but for now our guests are weary and need to retire until that time,” Aragorn said in way of dismissal to those who had gathered. After taking Arwen’s hand and laying it on his arm, he turned back to Éomer and with a half smile he gestured for the younger man to accompany him to the King’s House where the guest quarters were already prepared for them.

“I imagine there’ll be more talking then resting this afternoon,” Rebecca murmured to Thomas. He chuckled and nodded his agreement as they followed the others.

0-0-0-0-0

Rebecca could dimly hear the bells in the workshop jingling as she pushed open the door to the glassmaker’s shop. The small room was empty, just as it had been when she’d been there at Christmas time and she assumed Master Tadion was working at his forge in the back. She circled the store looking at the wares on display but none of them were quite what she wanted. The large basket, which contained the things she purchased that afternoon - linens, a pottery vase with blue glaze, and one book she’d been unable to resist purchasing - weighed heavily on her arm and she shifted it to her other hand. Perhaps she should have sent the vase to her home instead of carrying it, she thought as she looked over the glass beaded necklaces.

The sound of hurried footsteps made her turn toward the workshop door and she smiled at Master Tadion as the stout man burst into the room. The man’s cheeks were red from the heat of the forge and his eyebrows and some of his hair was scorched, but his smile lit up his whole face when he saw Rebecca standing in the middle of his shop.

“Lady Rebecca,” he exclaimed. “Welcome, how may I serve you? Do you need more of those ornaments?” He pulled off his thick, heavy leather apron and laid it aside before taking an old piece of cloth and wiping off his sweaty balding head.

“No, Master Tadion,” she replied, shaking her head. “Though, we’ll probably want some when Mettarë is here again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the glassmaker said with a thoughtful gleam entering his eyes. “I had some ideas last time but you needed them so quickly that I didn’t try them.” He looked back at Rebecca. “If I have more time I’ll be able to create something very special for you.”

“The ones you made were special and pleased all of us,” said Rebecca. “But if you want to try something different that might be fun to see too.” The master glassmaker gave her a delighted smile but that smile dimmed as his gaze suddenly landed on the basket in her hand.

“Miss Rebecca, you shouldn’t be holding that! Here, let me take that and set it here while you tell me what brings you here today.” He took the basket and set it carefully on the counter.

“I want some things for my new, I mean Lord Thomas’s and my new chambers we’ll be moving into after our wedding. There’ll be some things there from my chambers… and maybe some from his,” she said, smiling and Master Tadion chuckled. “But, I wanted some new things. I thought a vase and some little bowls that match it would be nice.”

“It would. It’s good to start out your marriage with something new; something that was neither of yours before… or so my wife told me years ago,” he said with a small laugh. “Do you have something in mind? A certain shape or color that you like?”

“Something with blue in it because Thomas and I both like that color and so there will be blue tapestries and such around the main chamber. I looked around before you came in but I didn’t see anything that was really what I wanted. This one is closest to the right size and I like the rounded edges around the top.” Rebecca pointed to a vase that was about ten inches tall and had an opening about five inches across.

Master Tadion gave it a thoughtful look before glancing around his shop. “I sold that one,” he muttered half under his breath. “I had a few others in here on display but I sold them yesterday and I haven’t had time to make new ones.” He picked up the vase Rebecca had pointed to and another one that was completely different in style and set them on the counter.

“I don’t know if you can see this or not, but I make a vase that has an opening very similar to the one you like here but the body is more like the body of this vase. Try to imagine the two of these vases merged into one vase.” Master Tadion waited expectantly.

Rebecca stared at the two vases and suddenly wished Thomas was with her. He’d be able to see what the two of them would look like as one single vase but she couldn’t. She glanced at the glassmaker from the corner of her eye to see him looking down at his shoes. Slowly shaking her head she turned back to Master Tadion.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t see it.”

“Then I’ll draw it for you,” he said, smiling and walking behind the counter. “Some people can imagine the vase when I do that, but most people can’t, my lady.”

“Thomas could, he’s an artist.”

The glassmaker paused in his drawing and looked at her. “Is he? I didn’t know that.”

“He’s learning to be one… painting and drawing. But he also works with Adar, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed, “but I’m glad that the King allows him to develop his artistic gifts. Though, after meeting him it does not surprise me, your adar seems to be a wise and caring man.”

“He is,” agreed Rebecca, smiling.

“Now,” Master Tadion turned the paper he’d been drawing on toward Rebecca, “here is what I had in mind.”

Rebecca studied the outline of the vase for a moment and traced it with her finger. It was a little different than what she’d imagined, being a little wider near the top, but it was close. “I think this will be fine, Master Tadion,” she said, looking up at the glassmaker.

“I can make something different, my lady, or,” he smiled, “I’ll make this one and several others and you can pick the one you like best. The rest I can easily sell,” he said as Rebecca started to protest.

“Good. How long will it take?”

“Oh,” he squinted down at the picture, “three or four days to make them all. After you pick the vase you want, I’ll make the bowls to match. How many bowls did you want?”

“Just two.”

“I’ll bring the vases up to you then.”

“Thank you, Master Tadion. Do you want me to pay for it now or later?”

The glassblower shook his head as he picked up her basket and walked toward the door. “No, Lady Rebecca, it’ll be my wedding gift to you and Lord Thomas,” he said, smiling over his shoulder at her.

Rebecca stopped in her tracks. “Oh, no, Master Tadion, I can’t let you do that. It’s too expensive of a gift and I never would have asked you to make me such a thing if…”

“If you’d known? That’s why I didn’t tell you beforehand,” the glassblower said, chuckling. “It’s a pleasure for me to make something special for the two of you; and to know that my creations are in the home of the king’s family makes me and my family proud.”

“Then thank you very much, Master Tadion.” Rebecca gave him a small curtsey before taking her basket from him. Gílorn, who’d been standing near the door, opened it for her and she stepped outside into the late afternoon sunshine.

“I think we’ll go home now, Gílorn,” she said to her guard as they began walking down the street that led to the main road of the city.

“Yes, my lady,” he replied as he dropped a couple of steps behind her.

They hadn’t walked more than twenty paces when a tall figure detached itself from the shadows between two buildings and walked toward them. The raised hood of his grey cloak hid his face from view and as the man drew near Gílorn stepped in front of Rebecca with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“You do not need your sword, guardsman,” said a stern voice that sounded familiar to Rebecca. But Gílorn did not retreat and instead pulled his sword out a few inches from its sheath as the hooded figured stopped in front of them. Rebecca noticed the bow the man was wearing at the same time he flipped his hood back.

“Haldir!” she cried out in delight. Gílorn shoved his sword back down in its sheath and bowed deeply.

“Forgive me, lord.”

Haldir turned his icy blue eyes on him. “There is nothing to forgive, guardsman. I commend you for watching so closely over Lady Rebecca.” The elf turned back to Rebecca who was smiling broadly, her eyes shining. Haldir took her hand and brought it to his lips briefly.

“Well met, Lady Rebecca.”

“A star shines on the hour of our meeting, Captain Haldir of the Lothlórien Guard,” she replied.

An eyebrow rose questioningly. “You speak Sindarin well, if with a Gondorian accent, but how much of it do you know?”

“Quite a bit, I have daily lessons and I… practice with Adar and Arwen. But it’s tiring if I speak it for too long,” she admitted.

“Then we shall speak in Westron.” As they slowly started walking toward the main road, the few people who had stopped to watch them moved on.

“When did you get here? Did you come alone?” Rebecca asked, surprised that she hadn’t known he was in the city.

“We arrived quietly and as we were riding up toward the Citadel I saw you turn down this street. I decided to greet you now but you entered the shop before I could speak to you.”

“I’m so glad you came to the wedding. But you said ‘we arrived quietly’. Did you brothers come with you?”

Haldir nodded and a brief smile appeared and his eyes twinkled. “Yes, they did. But we did not come alone. We traveled with your two… uncles, I believe they are calling themselves. Or, at least Elrohir is.”

“Elrohir and Elladan are here?” Rebecca stopped and stared up at the tall elf. “I didn’t think I’d see them for years.”

“I believe their desire to see their sister again is what truly drew them here, Lady Rebecca.” Haldir’s voice was grave as he spoke quietly. “I think they are concerned about Arwen’s welfare in this city of Men,” he said as he made a small gesture at the stone walls surrounding them as they walked on.

“Well, I can’t even begin to say that I know her like her brothers or even you do, Haldir, but I think she’s doing well. She seems happy. We’ve been busy working with some children in an orphanage and she’s been helping me with the wedding and getting our new chambers set up and some small projects to help the people of the city. But she and Adar spend quite a bit of time together too.” Rebecca cast a sidelong glance at the elf who looked down at her and nodded.

“I am glad that she is finding things to do; things that she seems to enjoy doing,” he commented before changing the subject. “Are you able to find time to practice with your bow?”

“Everyday,” she replied, grinning. “I most often shoot by myself but I shot with Legolas yesterday and that was fun.”

“When do you practice? I would enjoy seeing how you have improved since we last shot together.”

“Well, Adar says I’ve gotten better, but he might just be saying that.” Haldir looked at her, smiling briefly. “I usually practice early in the day, not long after the sun comes up. But the next ten days will be pretty busy and so I don’t know how much time I’ll have to practice.”

“I will practice at that time and if you are able to come then we will shoot together,” the elf said with a small, elegant shrug. “Brethil asked me to wish you joy for your marriage and to tell you that she wished she could have come.”

“It would’ve been nice to see her again. She was so kind to me.”

The two of them continued speaking of Brethil and Rebecca asked after Lord Thalion and a few of the other elves she had met in Lothlórien as they slowly made their way to the Citadel through the crowded streets of Minas Tirith.

0-0-0-0-0

Aragorn paced slowly back and forth in front of the bench as he spoke, the long day of sitting in his office creating a need in him for any sort of movement. “The Council meeting tomorrow may be long, meleth-nín,” he said, glancing at Arwen from the corner of his eye. “The news Imrahil brought was disturbing and I fear that some of the southern lords will be hard to convince of the urgent need to stop the uprising that appears to be occurring in the east.”

“They are more concerned about their own lands now that the threat from Mordor appears to be vanquished,” Arwen stated.

“Yes, but they must be made to see that that threat is not entirely ended,” Aragorn said with an exasperated sigh. “Sauron’s influence reached deep into the eastern lands and south into Harad, Khand, and Umbar and there are pockets of evil there that must be dealt with before true peace can reign in our land.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“You will go and fight then?” she asked quietly.

Aragorn turned, looking at his wife more fully and seeing her concern. “Yes, against the Easterling’s at least, Arwen. Faramir and Imrahil remain hopeful that talks may ensure peace in the South but I am uneasy there as well; the enmity between our people is deep. However, it is certainly worth pursuing for I would not risk our people if there is even a small chance that peace may be obtained through speaking with them.”

“Will we have to fight both at once, beloved?”

“No, I…” whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a call from the door near the library. Aragorn stepped around the bushes and trees that hid the small pond in the garden and looked inquiringly at Eradan who was smiling broadly.

“My lord, forgive me as I know you asked not to be disturbed. But these two… people,” he glanced back through the doorway, “insisted on speaking with you and Lady Arwen and I believe that you won’t mind seeing them.” Aragorn frowned, but realized that Eradan would not have interrupted without it being important.

“Let them come,” he said, trying to keep the impatience he felt from creeping into his voice. He blinked in surprise when Elladan and Elrohir walked into the garden. While they had as a matter of course been invited to the wedding, neither he nor Arwen had expected them to actually come, it was simply too far. Grinning, and walking toward them he suddenly remembered Arwen and he paused, looking back over his shoulder as he called to her. “Meleth-nín, come and see who has arrived for the wedding.” Aragorn’s brothers kept quiet and simply pulled him into firm embraces.

Arwen let out a cry of surprise and delight when she spied her brothers. “Elladan! Elrohir! You are here!” she exclaimed as she hurried toward them.

Aragorn glanced at the two elves when neither of them moved toward their sister and he suppressed a smile at the furrowed brow that appeared on Elladan’s face. However, it was Elrohir who spoke. Grabbing Arwen’s hands as she reached out to embrace him, he held her a short distance away as he slowly looked her up and down.

“Arwen, are you with child?”

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To be continued…

Elvish Translations:

Ion-nín – my son
Meleth-nín – my love


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