Benediction
Part 1
"What makes you so pensive, my husband?" Arwen reached over to the other pillow and stroked the tousled hair on the back of Aragorn's head.
Aragorn sighed slightly. Of course he couldn't fool her that he was asleep. When had he ever been able to deceive Arwen about anything? Not that he usually tried to; only when it was important for her own peace of mind.
This was important for her peace of mind. He turned over and managed a smile for the lady of his house, the mother of his children, the woman who was so nearly his soulmate as made no difference. As made no difference…
"I am not sure, my lady," he replied. "I am restless. Too many council meetings. Too many Halls of Justice. Too much confounded drawing up and signing of documents."
She sat up slightly, chin propped on hand, and regarded him. "Let me do it for a while, then. You know I can; I have done it before in your absence, and all but the hoariest old woman-hating, elf-hating knights accept my judgment now. Why not travel into the forest, go on a hunting trip?" She smiled. "Legolas is coming to visit next week. The very thing. You haven't seen him for more than a year. Take your bows and arrows and knives into the woods and pretend for old times' sake that you are hunting orc instead of deer."
He couldn't help smiling back at her gentle mockery of masculine pursuits, but his eyes narrowed nonetheless. Did she know what she was suggesting? Had she somehow read his mind, his wistful fantasizing as he lay there unable to look her in the face scant minutes ago? He scrutinized her expression but it was calm and bland, expectant.
"Not a good idea," he replied, more abruptly than he intended. "Besides, Arwen, you would wish to see Legolas too, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, oh yes," she replied quickly. She widened her eyes in a way that Aragorn loved; it always portended some wickedness about to emerge from that angelic mouth. "He is so very pretty."
Aragorn snorted with laughter. "That he is. Even after all this time." He flicked his wife of 20 years on the nose, and teased, "You would have him, would you?"
"If I could not have you."
He looked up at her quizzically. "Really?"
She shrugged. "He is brave, and well-favoured, and kind, and he is of my people. Had I not met you, I might have made an alliance with one such as he, and been content enough in my way, I suppose."
Aragorn frowned. "Certainly your father would have preferred it."
She reached for his hand. "Do not be so sure. Anyway, I am not my father. I chose you, and I choose you, always - however brief that always may be."
He lifted her fingers to his lips, and murmured, very low, "I have never been worthy of you."
But Arwen was lost in her own thoughts and did not seem to hear. "Besides," she added unexpectedly, "Legolas would never have been faithful to me. As you have been, my strong, dear love." She snuffed the last candle at their bedside, then turned and snuggled backwards, and his arms came around her automatically as the guilt washed over him again. Insane moments of passion at the end of bloody battles, all adrenaline and relief, in the time before he was wed to Arwen but after their betrothal - was that faithful? Constant, hidden yearning since; secret trysts for no other purpose but to gaze, and weep, and perhaps steal a kiss, no more - was that faithful? It had been the best they could do, he and Legolas, and it failed like a lawyer's sophistry in his mind's merciless Hall of Judgment. And indeed, had it not been for Legolas' pure and honourable will, the failure might have been much worse.
"You underestimate him, Arwen."
"No, indeed, love. I know him very well. He loves me too, you know, although you are his heart's core. He loves me and he loves our children because we are part of you, and he loves the Kingdom of Gondor because you are its King. Everything he does, he does for your sake. Were I wed to him, I could not keep him from your side." She spoke completely without bitterness, but her voice trembled a little and he could feel her steeling herself. "And you would not wish me to do so, because he is your heart's core also."
Aragorn's eyes were wide open in the dark. "Arwen…" he whispered, horrified, into her hair. How long have you known? he wanted to ask, but he could not form the words.
"Are you very angry with me?" she asked, somewhat shakily.
"Angry with you?"
"I have been so selfish, to let you suffer so. But I wanted the children to grow up undisturbed and in your light; I wanted your reign peaceful and strong with all the alliances our wedding brought; alas, Estel, love, I want you…" She gave a tiny sob.
Aragorn turned her tight to his shoulder and stroked that beloved dark hair, kissing her, soothing her. Her arms came around him and clung.
"What are we to do?" he asked, confused.
She lifted her head, let him go and sat up. "I have been thinking about that for a long while," she said, not looking at him. "I am aging as a mortal, as you know, and I have seen the signs that I am past childbearing. Our youngest is nearly a woman. So it is time I let you go, my liege." The brief tears were gone and her tone was resolute. "I will betake myself to Rivendell to be with my kin, and you and Legolas can… " She hesitated and added in a low tone, "I wish you much joy, Aragorn. I can leave next week if you wish it."
Aragorn absorbed this as he found his way round the bed to light the candle, and sat down in a chair facing her. And then, to her obvious indignation and perplexity, he laughed. He laughed out loud.
"And are Legolas and I to have no say in this, woman?" he said. "You have it all arranged, do you? Down to the very choice of linens and china you will take with you, no doubt! Arwen, Arwen…" He shook his head, chuckling, and leaned forward to take her hands. "And if I want you to stay?" he asked with gentle urgency. "If I am just as selfish, wanting you, as you are wanting me?"
"You do not command me."
"Of course I do," he countered. "I am King, after all. What if I want you both? What if I command you both to my bed?"
"Then you are not the King I know," she answered simply.
He gave a sigh of exasperation and sat back. "True," he conceded. His mouth quirked. "Can you imagine 'Lasse's face?"
Arwen bit her lip, then lost the battle and giggled. "He would obey. But oh my goodness, he would argue…"
"And argue, and argue -- we'd never make him hold his peace!"
Arwen's rare laughter pealed out, and she held out her arms for her husband to join her in bed. "My poor love, just what you need - another stubborn elf quarrelling with you at bedtime!"
He rested his head against her breast, grateful the storm was averted, but unable to leave the subject alone. "That was a brave, foolish offer, my dearest," he said. "How long have I been making you unhappy?"
"Oh, ever since the day we met," she responded lightly. "And very happy too. And contented. And frustrated. And excited. Have I not done the same for you?"
He shook her very slightly where he held her waist. "You know what I mean, Arwen."
She looked down at him compassionately, and tilted up his chin so she could meet his eyes. "Legolas told me, just before Eldarion was born." She hushed his exclamation with a finger. "It was not his fault; I got it out of him most unfairly. He came in very drunk one night, and I found him weeping inconsolably in one of the little guest sitting rooms at the far end of the castle. He had decided to slip away the next morning without saying goodbye, and never to return. I was near my time, and the sight was … difficult for him. I taxed him with being foolish and ungenerous, and he defended himself with drunken eloquence. Would that I could express my own love for you half so movingly."
"How did you persuade him to stay, sweet?"
"I told him that his disappearance would hurt you beyond bearing, Estel. Which was no more nor less than what I had long suspected. Legolas made no claims that his love was returned, but I knew by his stricken look that I had hit the mark."
Aragorn groaned. "And I have been a liar and faithless scoundrel in your eyes all these years."
"Nay, my dearest lord. Never that. Never, never that. But it is time, perhaps, for all of us to stop deceiving each other in a vain attempt to spare one another pain. That is why I said what I did, and offered to go."
"You will not go." It was half command, half plea.
"I will not, my lord," she said, consideringly. "I will not go provided you can find some way within your monstrously honourable self to persuade that just as monstrously honourable elf to dwell in our house, to eat at our table, to teach our children, to inhabit our lives, and to ravish you as long and hard and often as you both desire."
Aragorn was speechless for a moment. "You cannot mean this," he choked out at last.
"I do," she said, and her hand rested gently on his head.
Benediction.
-/-/-
"Absolutely not!" sputtered Legolas. "How dare she suggest such a thing!"
Aragorn looked at him over the rim of his fourth mug of mead (it had taken that many to drum up his courage) and said mildly, "I thought you might like the idea."
"No woman grants me permission to love you!" Legolas was up and pacing noiselessly round the little anteroom of his castle suite.
"Would you rather she take herself off to Rivendell in some daft quest to make us happy?"
"Blackmail," said Legolas grimly. "Blackmail, pure and simple."
"Care to speculate on her motives? This is Arwen we're talking about after all."
Legolas slumped back into his chair. "I don't understand."
"Neither do I, to tell you the truth, but …" Aragorn shrugged. "Would you at least consider moving in for a few months?"
"And what would be my position? Official King's Whore?" There was no word in Elvish for the notion, so Legolas used the bitter Common Speech term.
"Actually, I was hoping you might be my Swordmaster. Elifar is getting on in years, and cannot teach the young men swordsmanship and archery the way he used to."
Legolas hmmphed.
"Think of it, 'Lasse," Aragorn went on in his most persuasive tones. "No more of these long partings. No more sneaking about, dreading to be spotted by anybody from the court, though by the Valar there is nothing to spot. Just seeing each other every day, and … life. Together." He reached across the table and took Legolas' hand, stroked the familiar archer's calluses on the fingers.
"It cannot turn out well," said Legolas gloomily, but he did not withdraw his hand. Aragorn smiled broadly, knowing he had won.
"But I will not come to your bed, and you must not come to mine," Legolas went on. Aragorn shrugged his acquiescence. That was the least of it, and he had the feeling he could change Legolas' mind.
"You will dwell with us, then?" he asked, just to be sure. And when Legolas nodded, Aragorn whooped, vaulted like a boy across the table, wrapped his once and future lover in his arms and kissed him till they both ran out of breath.
In her sewing room down the hall, Arwen heard the whoop and smiled.
-/-/-
It was a pleasant day, with little breeze, so Arwen had taken her sewing out to the garden for a while. But it lay unheeded in her lap, as she cast her eyes absently over the mingled pinks and purples of her favourite flower bed. She started as Legolas appeared noiselessly at her side.
"May I sit with you, my lady?"
"Of course, Swordmaster." She shifted her skirts to make room for him on the bench, but he sat instead on the grass at her feet, settling himself with youthful grace. Arwen felt the familiar pang of her own chosen mortality. "How goes it with my lord, Legolas?"
"I have scarcely seen him all day, Arwen. It seems there is some terribly complicated dispute over the trade routes to Rohan that has to be settled."
"Oh, that one. Yes, we thought that problem might come up again. We cannot have private interests controlling the border crossings…" She laughed at herself. "That surely isn't what you came to talk to me about, 'Lasse."
He was looking at her with interest. "He relies on you a great deal, doesn't he?"
"We rely on each other," she said.
And, since there was no point beating around the bush, Legolas asked bluntly, "So where do I fit in?"
"Wherever he wants."
"Forgive me if I do not believe you are entirely candid, Arwen."
"He grows old before his time, 'Lasse. His life is short, but it will be shorter still if he remains so unhappy. Oh, he does not think he is unhappy, but he is. I see it gnawing away at the root of him, and I have no power to heal it. Make him happy for me."
Legolas took a deep breath. "I am not so sure that I can. And I have no wish to usurp your place."
"You will not. I want you to make your own, with our help. There are no customs in Man's world, nor in the Elves', to guide us in this, 'Lasse. We must find our own way."
"There is truly no other reason you brought me here?"
"No other important one," she said.
He rose to his knees, placing a hand on either side of her on the bench. "Tell me about the unimportant ones," he challenged, holding her gaze.
She lifted a hand, involuntarily, to touch the blond braid at the side of the fair, ageless face. Shaking her head, she looked away. "Why should you have to put up with that?"
Seating himself at her side, he slid an arm around her shoulders, and deposited a gentle kiss on the averted face. "What makes you so sure I would be putting up with it?" he asked quietly. And was gone.
Arwen sat in her garden for a long time after that.
tbc