I've finally tagged Arvedui and Fíriel for this story! The tags are all new :)

I think I went a little overboard with the snow and the cold, because I don't think winter in Fornost was so bad (probably something like the north of England/ south of Scotland). But, unlike Fíriel, I'm actually a big fan of winter and I also thought that from her point of view it probably feels much more cold than it actually is, since she is not used to it.

Chapter 13 - A Short Sentence

This second winter came earlier than the first and it was harsh, or so Fíriel thought, for none of the Northerners ever complained about the weather – worse, some of them obviously enjoyed it. The princess was always cold, despite having managed to gather an impressive set of furs, and she worried she would never adjust to this terrible season. Far, so far away were the mimosas, oleanders and cypresses of Minas Anor, and slowly it sank in she truly had left Gondor and its gentle nature.

The snowy landscape certainly had its charms, yet it held her prisoner in Fornost and sometimes even the warmth of the greenhouses was not enough to distract her from the gloominess that seized her on cold nights. She'd stroll on the walls of the fortress, gazing at the horizon, and in moments like these she wished she could fight alongside Arvedui and his men. She wished she could escape from those halls and help defend the realm, much like she had dreamed doing when she had been in Minas Anor.

Fíriel did know how to hold a sword and she had learned the basics of swordfight when she was a child, back when she had not been aware she was different from her brothers, because she was a girl. Never had she been so bold as to wish to become a soldier or one of his father's captain, yet she despised being passive when others put their lives at stake to protect the kingdom. She had always been told she was needed to govern the city when men were away, however it sometimes felt like a punishment to have to wait for their return.

Like the year before, she took care of current affairs with the Queen, but there was not much to deal with, and though the well-being of the people was at the heart of her preoccupations, she longed to do more. Fíriel had understood Queen Gilwen had no ambitions of her own, she merely acted as an extension of her husband and rarely showed initiative. Yet the princess was dissatisfied with this choice and she wished she had the opportunity to discuss more with Arvedui, about her role in Fornost – there were many other things she wished she had discussed with him.

She missed him immensely and it happened that she wondered how she had ended up being so deeply attached to him. His smell had long vanished from their bed, as if he had never been there at all, and Fíriel realized she did not like to sleep alone anymore – how quickly things had changed. For the princess, love was still a mystery and she could not quite comprehend it fully, for it was new to her and it really had nothing to do with the few flirts she had had with young lords, back in Gondor. For the most part, it was a pleasant feeling, and the source of an endless joy, yet it was also painful, and Fíriel was also often troubled.

There was only one person she confided these feelings to and it was Meldis. Well, she did answer the Queen's nosy inquiries as truthfully as she could, and there had been a lot of it after that public kiss. Hopefully, her mother-in-law had been kind enough not to press her more on these matters, for she was quite content already, knowing her son had somehow managed to marry happily. But what she told Meldis was different, for with her friend she feared not to talk about the touchiest matters.

Since Fíriel was wedded, they met no more in her chambers and spent most of their time together in the greenhouses. A year had passed since they had decided they should be restored and their work, and that of the gardeners and botanists, finally seemed to pay off – although it would take another decade or so to reach its full potential. At least, all the fountains had been repaired and new benches had been made by carpenters, providing the ladies with comfy nooks where they sat and tried to forget about the snow.

"Now that winter has come, the halls of the King do seem empty, and scarce have become the occasions to dance and sing yet I always expect to find you surrounded with at least half a dozen of your suitors," said Fíriel and she was smiling as she looked at her friend.

They had meant to embroider handkerchiefs, but their needles and thread had quickly been put aside.

"Whenever I tell them you're about to join me, it somehow scares them away," retorted Meldis, giggling.

There were not that many young men pursuing Meldis, but there were a few serious candidates that loved to lurk into the greenhouses. Among them was, surprisingly, Chamberlain Cirion, although neither the princess nor her friend really knew what brought him in there. He did not seem to be the type to chase after young maidens, for, on the contrary, he often was the one been chased.

"The fearsome princess, they shall call me one day."

"At least, they no longer believe you to be haughty and cold."

"Indeed… Although I do think they will always consider me to be a bit odd, I am a Southerner after all," Fíriel said and she was aware that some her habits would always been called 'quirks' by the Dúnedain of the north.

"Do you sometimes wish you would have never come here at all?"

"It'd be a lie to say I never questioned my decision to leave Gondor, but, as time passes by, I have fewer and fewer reasons to regret it."

"Your Gondorian fellows were quite handsome, and quite gallant too, but for none of these young men would I leave my home and family," said Meldis, pouting, but then she quickly added, "of course, I am no princess and I know nothing of the duties that behove you."

"Oh, I wouldn't want you to believe my life was exhausting in Minas Anor, for it was not, really. I did follow my father on his visits throughout Gondor, but I am afraid I was more interested in sightseeing than in whatever pleas our people wished to make. Of these royal duties, I only became aware recently and I must admit I did not fully understand what it encompassed when I decided to come here."

"Yet, having seen the men and women who traveled from the south, I can't help but wonder if our realm does not feel rather… petty to you. The partition of Arnor occurred centuries ago and it seems that, since then, not only our numbers have dwindled, but our culture as well."

"Why would you believe that?" asked Fíriel, frowning.

"I used to be impressed by your refinement, yet I thought it was normal for a princess to dress as fancy as you do, to be able to recite old lays or to tend to trees that were brought from Westernesse. But all the Gondorian lords and ladies were splendid, like you, whereas we… do we not lack greatness?"

Fíriel shook her head. "The people of Arthedain lack no greatness, if anything, the proximity of the Elven folk and of Annúminas has given you a more vivid experience of the past, as if old legends were still true in these lands... And it shan't be forgotten that the kings of Arthedain have the heirlooms of Elendil in safekeeping."

For a moment, Meldis stared intently at the princess, yet her expression changed fast and she broke into laughter.

"Look at you, dear Fíriel, so fiercely protecting our realm! You've almost become one of us, have you not?"

Fíriel chuckled. "Perhaps I will end up being an ambassador of Arthedain in Gondor, and not the opposite."

On one of the coldest days of December, as a snowstorm was raging over the North Downs, Fíriel was told she had received a message from Arvedui and she was quite surprised when Chamberlain Cirion came to deliver it to her. It was just a small piece of paper, yet her heart fluttered when she unfolded it, for she suddenly had this silly hope that her husband had written some sort of romantic declaration. She knew he was not one to elaborate long speeches, yet she thought it might be easier for him to express his feelings in a letter – perhaps being away, patrolling the frontiers, had awaken a more poetic side of him.

"Dear Fíriel, the cold is bitter here and a few trolls from the Ettenmoors have been troubling us recently. However, it is nothing we cannot handle and the soldiers' moral is good. I do hope you fare well in Fornost, - Arvedui."

Three sentences. Three short sentences, and not a single word hinting at what she had told him, before he had left. She could not help but being disappointed, wondering why her husband had bothered to send her such a pointless message.

Chamberlain Cirion, on the other hand, was intrigued. "I am surprised the prince wrote you a letter," he said, as he tried to peer at the paper, not very subtly.

"I'm afraid it is generous to be qualifying it as a letter, for it is a mere note. A very brief one, about trolls and happy soldiers…"

"Arvedui might wield the sword with great power, yet he has little talent when it comes to word." The Chamberlain snorted, "Trolls are nothing to brag about when writing to your loved one."

"Well, I am glad to have received tidings from him, but I…"

"You were expecting a poem."

"No, of course not," said Fíriel, pursing her lips and glowering at the Chamberlain.

"Lady Fíriel, I have known Arvedui since we were both children, toddlers even. As absurd as it may sound, this boring note he wrote to you is the most romantic gesture he has ever done." Lord Cirion took some time to reflect on what he had said and he added, "Well, perhaps it is second to this kiss he gave you when you parted, in November. In any case, rest assured it is his own strange way of caring about you, for in all these years he never bothered once to send me or his mother any news from his patrols. We always had to make do with the official reports."

Fíriel blushed. "I suppose you are right…" She cleared her throat, regaining her composure. "Is there a possibility I could send back a reply?"

"Yes, my Lady."

And Fíriel wrote back to Arvedui, yet she was not as concise as he was and she ended up covering pages and pages with her writings, almost as if she was in charge of the realm's annals.

"The Queen, lord Cirion and Meldis do keep me quite busy, although perhaps not in the way you had intended them to do. Winter is harsh here too, yet this year's harvest was good and granaries are full, and there have been few problems within the city or in the villages. It is thus completely different matters that have preoccupied me lately. For a few weeks already it has come to my attention that lord Cirion has seemingly taken a great liking to the greenhouses and the work I have done there. You can imagine my surprise to see him wander awkwardly through plants and trees, pretending to admire them … but as it happened, the Chamberlain has little interest for botany or for my company, even though we now esteem each other. I suspect it is Meldis that draws lord Cirion in the greenhouses, for he always lights up in her presence and his inquiries are always addressed to her. I am afraid his pursuit of her is vain, for she has no particular affection for him, yet I find it hard to be of good counsel to them both. I sometimes believe your mother would be much more capable of sorting out this situation and I believe it is nothing but a matter of time before she understands what is going on – and then surely she shall do her best to coax the Chamberlain into declaring his feelings to Meldis."

Arvedui was amused to read what Fíriel had to say about life in Fornost, but moreover, he was happy the princess had responded to his message. He had been unsure as to what to write about, for being on the field was austere and the few events that disrupted their patrols were too bloody to be reported to a lady – especially one who would only worry about his safety. Regarding what he felt for Fíriel, he barely began to acknowledge it himself and thus he was unable to express it on paper. And he dearly wished to tell in person, when he would be ready.

His style did not improve over the weeks, but he did write a few lines now and then :

"For the last month, the sons of Lord Elrond have come riding with us. They have always been unevaluable allies to our kingdom and no men know these lands as well as they do."

"The sky was clear today and we could see the line of the Misty Mountains up to Carn Dûm. Ever dark smoke rises from this wretched place, yet our enemies have been still for weeks."

"We have not sighted Orcs or Trolls during the last fortnight, the warmth of the Sun weakens them greatly. Would that they never appear again."

So Fíriel received these other notes, ever as short as the first one, but she collected them fondly and she waited for warmer days to come, continuing to chronicle her second winter in the north.

Spring came as it always did, and still Fíriel were unsure as to what to make of Chamberlain Cirion's newfound interest in Meldis. The princess was more and more likely to be convinced he was genuine, but her friend would not believe the Chamberlain could truly entertain any romantic feelings for her. He was a proud lord, close to the King, and Meldis thought he meant to ridicule her in some mean way. While most of the noble crowd now approved of Fíriel, some of them even seeking her favors, they did look down on the princess' friend, the little girl from Bree. And so Meldis had become wary of the lords claiming they had fallen for her charms, and especially of Chamberlain Cirion who pretended to care about her needlework and her freshly acquired knowledge of botany. However, all of that became quite secondary when Arvedui and his father returned to Fornost, at the beginning of March.

The King and the prince were welcomed in the vast courtyard of the King's halls and along the road that lead there, many bystanders stood to watch the troops march back into the city. Once more, Fíriel followed Queen Gilwen's lead and she tried to appear as calm and composed as she could, ignoring the turmoil that rose within her chest when she greeted her husband, rather formally. Arvedui looked worn out and his beard was scruffy. Fine lines ran deeper than usual on his face, as if the sharp cold had cut through his skin, and his hands were calloused and red from the frost. Even from afar Fíriel could see he had sustained a few minor injuries, for his cloak did not entirely conceal the bandage that was wrapped around his left shoulder. Yet his pale grey eyes shone ever brightly and he smiled when he stepped into the Great Hall, for he was glad to be back home.

That evening, the banquet seemed to last for an eternity and every time a new dish was served Fíriel's restlessness increased. She did sit next to Arvedui, on the dais, yet there was not much to do but to hold hands and smile at each other, for a whole assembly stared at them. There had been many talks about the two of them, during the last months, and a large number of lords and ladies had been speculating that Fíriel might be pregnant – it would have explained the goodbye kiss. These rumors had eventually died out, yet the return of the prince had once more sparked the hopes for an heir.

Fíriel had long stopped being preoccupied with the Northerners' expectations and she easily ignored their prying looks. Truth was, she was simply impatient to retreat to her chambers with Arvedui and there was nothing else on her mind but the wish to be alone with him.

"I would have liked to trim my beard before entering the city, but there was no time for it, I'm afraid," the prince told her, after they had been served generous portions of honey cake.

Wine and dessert had made everyone merry and it had also made their attention shift away from Arvedui and Fíriel.

"It suits you, I must admit. The scars, however, I see too many new ones," said the princess as she was closely inspecting one of her husband's hands.

"These are not scars, but mere scratches that will soon fade. Come summer and you won't remember they were there," Arvedui assured her, for he saw she was worried.

Fíriel was a little sceptical about that, but she remained silent. She knew the scars were part of the deal and that she had not only wedded a prince, but a warrior also. Perhaps she should have been used to this already, for she had often worried for the safety of her father and of her brothers, but the possibility of losing a loved one would always be her biggest fear.

"Your letters were very entertaining to read, I must say you have quite the knack when it comes to reporting the whereabouts of everyone dwelling in these halls."

"Was it not too trivial?" she wondered, still holding his left hand in hers. "I feared you might be bored by these anecdotes, since you were facing real dangers…"

"If anything should be called boring, then it is my own letters," he shrugged, as he was eating Fíriel's serving of cake, for he had already finished his own and his appetite was not as light as his wife's.

Fíriel chuckled. "Your style is laconic, to say the least."

"I've had little practice at… Well, I rarely write."

"The Chamberlain told me so."

"Did he?"

"He also told me I should be honored you took the time to write me a letter… Should I ask for more cake?" she inquired, when she realized he was done with both their portions.

"Oh, no… it's just that… food was not especially delicious during my time away."

"Then have some more," the princess said, hailing a servant.

"Truth is, I would rather have this dinner to end soon."

"Is something the matter?" Fíriel glanced at his shoulder, convinced that his wound was far worse than what he pretended and that he was suffering in silence.

"I merely wish to rest, in our room," he muttered in her ear.

Alas, it was not so easy to escape from the Great Hall and, as usual, King Araphant insisted to keep his son by his side till the very end of the banquet – at least Arvedui could eat honey cake to his heart's content. Husband and wife were both very sleepy when they finally went back to their chambers and they barely exchanged a few kisses before laying in bed and falling into a deep slumber. There were many things they wanted to tell each other, and many things they wanted to do together, but they knew they'd have plenty of time for that now that the beautiful days of spring and summer had come.

T.A. 1941 – Spring

In April, Arvedui and Fíriel traveled to Cardolan and to Rhudaur, where they met the remnants of the Dúnedain, proud lords who ruled over devastated lands. At first, the presence of a Gondorian princess in the north had caused quite some stir in these realms and some had imagined that King Araphant meant to use his allies from the south to conquer the rebellious realms. Yet the wedding had cooled down most of Cardolan and Rhudaur's ardor, for they had seen the might of the Gondorians, and they proved to be rather courteous hosts, despite their crude manners.

After that, in May, they rode further east, to Rivendell – and there the welcome was much warmer. Fíriel, especially, was impressed by the vale, for never had she stepped in a territory so exclusively Elvish and many wonders did see and hear while staying there. Yet even the beauty of lord Elrond's homely home was briefly forgotten when Arvedui and Fíriel spent a few days by lake Evendim, at the end of the month of June, almost exactly a year after their wedding. The two of them had wished to go back to the ruins of Annúminas, with a small retinue, for it had become a special place to them both.

They stood on the lake's bank, somewhere near the spot of their first kiss – neither one of them could recall where precisely it had been, for their memory of this moment was but one happy blur. The water's smooth surface mirrored the stars, as if thousands of gems had fallen from the sky, and the majesty of this sight only added to the ethereal presence of the ruins. They felt they had stepped out of time and come to a place sheltered from the vicissitudes of Men's kingdoms, far from the woes of war.

Many thoughts crossed Arvedui's mind in that instant. As always, standing by the shimmering ruins of Annúminas, he could not help but wonder about his own fate, that of 'the last king', and whether fortune would favor the Dúnedain or not. Yet this old contemplation of his had changed lately, for he no more was alone and Fíriel's presence by his side, as well as the prospect of having children soon, made him keener to consider the prophecy's happy outcome – that he would become the king of a great realm.

However, these considerable matters quickly gave place to more personal ponderings. The moon, the stars and the lake inspired him, or perhaps he had finally found the will to overcome his own bashfulness. Wherever came from his impulse, he knew not, yet he turned towards Fíriel and took a few seconds to contemplate her.

Clad in white, her dresses flowing in the summer breeze, she was gazing at the water, probably counting the stars, and on her head was set a flower crown she had made herself. She was young, he realized, much younger than him, and not at all like the bride he had envisioned for himself – that lady from Cardolan he had almost been betrothed to had been stern-looking, like him. Fíriel, with her freckles and her shy laughter, had brought unforeseen happiness in his life and it was about time he let her know that.

There were many words that crossed his mind, and many beautiful sentences as well, and even a poem or two, yet…

"I love you, Fíriel," was all he said.

And it was enough, for it was exactly what Fíriel had been waiting to hear. His declaration was laconic, as were his letters, but he was sincere and the princess understood it had been difficult for him to express his feelings – a blush covered his cheeks and his beard was not enough to conceal it. Fíriel was slightly amused, thinking his timid attitude was very endearing, but most of all she was moved and there was not much she could do but fall into his arms.

Their embrace lasted long and when dawn came neither of them had had any sleep, yet weariness was the least of their concerns. They were happy together and it was all that mattered for a few days, by lake Evendim.

And it was a few weeks later that, upon entering their room, Arvedui was met by a frantic Fíriel who threw herself on him with such enthusiasm that he almost lost his balance. While he had nothing against enthusiastic welcomes, he did wonder what had triggered his wife's happiness and for a short moment he believed her brothers would be traveling north again.

Yet it was a far greater announcement that Fíriel made, when she was finally done covering him with kisses.

"I am pregnant, Arvedui! I… we… we will be parents!" she exclaimed, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Upon hearing these words, Arvedui was filled with bliss, so much of it that he had become speechless, and in that instant, he truly thought he was not cursed, but blessed.