Never Off Guard
Aragorn son of Arathorn, Ranger of the North, Chieftain of the Dunedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, also called King Aragorn the Second of Gondor, was discussing weighty matters of state with Faramir son of Denethor, Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien, Prince of Ithilien, and, during those times when Aragorn was away on business, Steward of Gondor, on one of the balconies of the Citadel of Minas Tirith.
"How fares Eowyn, Faramir?" Aragorn inquired as he looked out over Pelennor and towards the setting sun.
"Well enough, my lord," Farmir replied as he looked in the direction of Ithilien, "though she mislikes being so near Minas Ithil and Mordor. And how fares her highness?"
Aragorn nodded in a kingly fashion—being kingly in nearly every way, especially at a feast—and replied gravely, "It is good to hear that Eowyn does well, and it is good to say that Arwen alike fares well, though I believe she misses Rivendell. However, there is one thing that concerns me."
"What could that be, my lord?"
"Your wife and mine have been seen in several places giggling over some private joke."
"Indeed, my lord?"
"Indeed. Now, it may surprise you to know this, but Arwen Undomiel, Queen of Gondor, has a bit of the mischevious streak common to elves, though, like all elves, she hides it well. And you know your wife."
"Yes, Eowyn, Lady of Ithilien, while most times serious, is at times as playful as a Rohirric warhorse's colt," Faramir replied. "I wonder what exactly it is they are planning."
Meanwhile, two assailants were creeping up on king and prince, with sharp blades in their hands and light-stepping feet. They moved into striking distance as the two men kept talking…
"I myself wonder the same," Aragorn responded. "Ah, but no matter. How fares your captain, Beregond?"
"He, also, fares well—I believes he likes being close to Mordor better than Eowyn does, having been in the Citadel his whole career. This disturbs me somewhat that he enjoys being close to peril, but he is a doughty fighter—and, surprising for a Guard of the Citadel, has shown an aptitude for woodcraft."
"That is most surprising—I have often chided them for the great clanking they feel it is imperative they make as they stand sentry." Aragorn sighed. "Ah, well, I suppose that I can survive a bit of clanking at night."
As he spoke, the two assailants each carefully prepared to strike with the advantage of surprise…only to be surprised themselves when their targets wheeled upon them, seized their sword-hands and disarmed them, and then held them in place to prevent their flight.
"These are most queer assassins, do you not think, Prince Faramir?" Aragorn queried.
"They do seem to be most queer—why, the one I hold wears the seeming of my wife!" Framir exclaimed.
"And the one I hold wears the seeming of mine." Having said this, and adjusting his hold on the struggling figure, Aragorn turned to Faramir with a look in his eye that Faramir had not seen there at any point before—it almost looked like he was about to play a joke.
"What should the punishment be, for those who would molest a king and one of his princes in the king's own citadel?"
"I am not altogether sure, my lord. However, I do believe that a short stint in the dungeon would be appropriate."
"Yes, that sounds like an excellent suggestion," Aragorn said as he wore an expression of deep thought. "Perhaps it should be in the bottommost dungeon—you know the one, I'm sure."
"Ah, yes, the Dampening Place. It has quite the reputation for being most moldy. How long should they stay there?"
"I am not sure, as I am not entirely certain how long such a seeming can be worn, though I imagine the librarians will know it. I'll send a runner down there tomorrow morning."
"In that case, then, these two shall be held in the Dampening Place until they return to their proper forms. Does that sound like a good plan to you, Lord Faramir?"
"It does indeed, your highness," Faramir said, who had difficulty restraining laughter as the expression on Eowyn's and Arwen's faces changed from shock at their discovery to utter horror at the prospect of spending the night in the Dampening Place—which was known among all the citizens of Minas Tirith as a place where you could get rid of a dry cough quick as quick. Of course, it might be replaced with cold chills, but if anyone knew that you couldn't have everything, it was the citizens of Minas Tirith.
"Excellent. Do you want to call the guards, or shall I?" Aragorn replied, desperately trying, Faramir could tell, to keep a straight face.
"Well, actually," Faramir replied, thinking that it was time to wrap up the joke, "I think some clemency might, perhaps, be in order. If certain conditions were met."
"Oh?" Aragorn turned his head towards Faramir with an eyebrow cocked inquiringly. "What sort of conditions did you have in mind?"
"Well, for the one I'm holding I think it would be an agreement to join me in the library and not complain as I teach her how to read for a month, for starters. I'm sure you could come up with an idea or two."
"Yes," Aragorn replied as he turned toward Arwen, "I believe I could. With mine, not complaining for a month about how I keep a knife under my pillow would be an excellent start. Perhaps some groveling might be included, something like we're very very sorry and we'll never do this or anything like this again. Of course, if they were unwilling to meet this condition," Aragorn glared at the two women, who were showing signs of balking, in a kingly manner, "We could call the guards to take them to the Dampening Place."
Eowyn and Arwen, being relatively wise women, caved in at that point. Once the profuse apologizing and promising was done—with Aragorn making Arwen swear upon the light of Earendil, while Faramir made Eowyn swear upon her favorite horse.
As it was now time for the King and his Princes to appear before the Court of Gondor, the male half of each couple took the arm of the female half, and as they walked towards the Great Hall, Faramir whispered in Eowyn's ear, "Despite certain reports to the contrary, Rangers are never, ever, not even when we are most distracted, off our guard."
A/N: Yes, Peter Jackson, I'm talking to you.