Disclaimer: Not mine.
Many hours later than she had planned, Éowyn left the King's House, and made her way home, two stoic guards at her side. She had confessed her financial difficulties to Legolas, and he promised that he would ask Aragorn to find the money somewhere to help her – he had had no idea that Faramir had been paying back Denethor's substantial debts for his life of utterly crapulous luxury in such time of hardship and warfare. The country would take another decade to recover fully, whilst the children grew up to replace their fallen fathers, and whilst the last few years' harvest had been large, better than in decades, there had not been enough hands to harvest it, so it rotted where it stood.
It would not fair to raise taxes, but they would find a way around the suffering somehow. In the meantime, Legolas had sent two of his guards with her. The nights were already drawing in, and though she left at the fifth hour from noon, it was already dark. He did not want her to be defenceless, not when some people in the streets were so desperate they would depredate a pregnant woman in the dark. When the guards went home, Legolas would ensure they would be replaced by others. Her home would be protected, and her children with it. It set both of their minds at rest a little.
Éowyn knew she was lucky to have friends like Legolas and Aragorn. She had very few others in this Kingdom. Faramir had far too much pride to ask Aragorn for more money and had taken a low salary at the beginning of his employ to Aragorn, which the King had forgotten about and the Steward had never changed. Arrogance was something seen in Éowyn as well, but it was an affectation; she was still seen as the fighting woman from Rohan, which she had thought she had always wanted, but though she still relished the respect it garnered, she had been wrong. She needed friends.
When she reached her house, she knocked on the door, listened to the footsteps, the latch being lifted, and suddenly found a small body wrapped around her legs. "Mama!"
"Hello sweet Boromir," she murmured, holding very still so that she did not overbalance. One of the guards, Padisen, placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. He would never have dared to do so much to a Royal, but Éowyn knew Legolas had brought them aside and asked them to take care of her not just guard her. Éowyn shot him a grateful look, though she was not sure he could see in the darkness of the night. "Will you let me in please, my son?" Éowyn asked, the warmth of the house beginning to exude outwards from the open door, invitingly.
In the doorway, Faramir loomed, and crouched down to unpeel Boromir from his mother's legs. The child went willingly, and clutched at Faramir instead. "Let your mother in little one," he said. As he rose his eyes latched first onto the hand on his wife, and narrowed, before taking in the sight of the two guards. Slowly, Padisen removed his hold, under the sharp gaze of the Steward. "Who are these men? Surely they are Legolas' guards?"
"They are being with me at present. As there is no one else in my household and I had to let my own guard go, and I am not able to defend myself in my condition, Legolas asked them to take care of the children and myself," Éowyn explained briskly.
"Who, then, is guarding Legolas?" questioned Faramir, his face darkening.
"There are others to protect Legolas, and he will not leave the Royal quarters at the moment anyway. He is perfectly safe," Éowyn said. "Now will you let me into my own house?"
"Of course. Sorry," muttered Faramir, and he stepped aside. As Éowyn moved in, the delicious smell of roasting meat filled the air. She raised her eyebrows, askance, at her husband. "I cooked dinner. It is almost ready," confessed Faramir, knowing already what his wife was thinking about. They knew each other far too well, and Éowyn hated it.
"You did not have to do that," Éowyn mumbled, though her heart swelled with gratefulness for the small gesture. She did not think she could have stood, cooking in front of the fine for hours. Not tonight. "But thank you. That is good of you."
Faramir glared at the guards at the door. They were gazing at him, their faces emotionless, but their eyes pierced him in a way he abhorred. They reminded him of Legolas' eyes when he was angry, cold, hard but sharp, like cut diamonds. Faramir did not want that in his house. "I have my own guards. You can stay out here." He closed the door hard.
Éowyn rolled her eyes. "And that was rude of you. It is cold out there, and those noble men are doing me an act of kindness." She moved past him, opened the door, and ordered the men inside. They shot her grateful looks, as they moved in. A moment of tension, a struggle for power, passed between the husband and wife, but Faramir held his tongue.
000
Legolas leant back against the wall, his arms wrapped around his knees, in a way that resembled Cariad's nervous position earlier. Trying to relax, his head tipped back against the cold wood. If Cariad had awoken, he had not moved – he was as still as the stone behind the panelling. Lethargy had crept into Legolas' bones and he had not shifted since Éowyn had departed.
Darkness would have fallen around him had a servant not visited twice to keep the candles and fire lit, but shadows had fallen over his mind all the same. Even when there was a soft tap on the door, he did not look over. The visitor could take what they wanted from the silence, he decided, and truly, a moment later, Bardlet stepped into the room uninvited. He only peered around the door, but upon seeing Legolas on the wall, he stepped in. "My Lord…" he hesitantly said in a whisper.
"Have you not done enough damage today?" demanded Legolas, in a whisper loud enough to be heard, but not to wake up Cariad.
"I wanted to apologise. I did not know…" Bardlet began to say, but Legolas raised an elegant hand for silence.
"Stop." Though he waved the words away in a careless manner, it was difficult to do. He did not want to forgive the man but he had too many troubles in his mind already. "It is done now. We will deal with the harm."
"I am just so sorry." Bardlet hurried forwards to earnestly say his piece. "I am…"
"You are a friend of this family as well as an employee of ours, and you did not know what was happening," Legolas said, closing his eyes tight to stop the broiling anger from escaping him. "It no longer matters. I do not know how he could be any more broken."
"Is there anything more that I can do for you? For him?" asked the Head Guard, nervous.
Legolas gave a sigh – Bardlet clearly had no idea how much the elf did not want him there. "You can go to find Aragorn and ask him to come here. He will be working but he ought to stop and relax. Then go on leave as you ought to." And leave us alone.
Bardlet hesitated, but saw the resolute, adamant stony expression on Legolas' face. He forced himself to turn away and leave the room. Legolas watched the Head Guard's retreat with jealousy, cracking one eye open. He could leave. Legolas could not. Ai, he wanted Aragorn to come.
000
Dinner in the Steward's room passed in near silence. Only the children spoke, briefly of their day with their father. Éowyn could not help but feel slight jealousy, though at the same time, she knew she had spent too many days with no one but the children for company. She was full of confusing emotion and she did not like it at all. She wished she could be like the elves, and turn off the emotion she felt; banish the love and the hate and the relief and the envy.
As soon as dinner was over, the children and Faramir cleaned up, insisting that Éowyn remained in her place. For once, she did not protest, and sat, watching the plates disappear, and the table being put to rights, stroking her stomach where her twins squirmed and kicked, and keeping Boromir occupied taking napkins into the kitchen, one by one.
Once all was cleared, the children kissed their mother goodnight, and ran to take themselves to bed. Éowyn was sure Faramir must have spoken to them before but her stomach was full and she was too tried to protest. If it saved her the chore, she did not mind. She liked it immensely, particularly when Théo – smiling at his mother - took Boromir to take him to bed too. But then Faramir sat opposite her.
"That was a fairly pleasant evening until you sat there," Éowyn sniped. She had hoped that the Steward would cook and then leave, but she had no such luck. She had had to put up with him eating with them, but now he had outstayed his welcome more than she thought previously possible.
Faramir winced at the words, and replied, "That was unnecessary. I sincerely hope that you do not say things like that to my children about me."
Shaking her head, which did not help the lightness in it she already felt, Éowyn said, "Of course I do not. I am not going to do that. I would not." She felt defensive, threatened.
"You are in such a state right now that I do not know what you would and would not do," Faramir growled, hating his own anger.
"Hypocrite!" Burning at the offense, Éowyn's exclamation was louder than she had expected it to be.
"Théo would not talk to me for two hours after you left. I have no idea what you have said to him or implied." Faramir's voice turned into a snarl.
The entirety of Éowyn's swollen body shied away from the anger, the natural maternal instinct activating, with the urge to protect her children from the fury of her husband. She should never have had to fear her husband. How had it come to this? "Do not yell at me so. This is one of the things… you scare me sometimes. You are so quick to anger when you are tired from working."
Blood drained from Faramir's face. "I scare you?"
"Sometimes," Éowyn nodded, fearful still. "You tuck your emotions away at work but they stream from you when you are at home, unstoppable."
Faramir rose from his seat, and made his way delicately towards his wife. She tried to stand and get away, but he knelt at her feet and took her cold hands in his own. He bowed his head, shameful, "I am so sorry. Forgive me, Éowyn. I love you. I always have loved you. I never stopped and I am so sorry."
Staring down at the man she had taken as second best, the man she had married, the man she had bourn the children of, with pleasure and love, Éowyn found her eyes swelling up with tears, the sting of them prickling more. "I can not. You hurt me and I do not want to be hurt anymore. I deserve much more than this."
"Give me another chance," begged Faramir. "Please. It hurts so much without you." He knelt up, half-rising. "Let me hold you. Please. Each night I sleep alone and all I dream of is sleeping with you in my arms."
"No." Éowyn shook her head, but the motion made her tears spill out. She'd had those dreams too, the strong arms pulling her back against a hot firm body, the skilled hands stroking her children in her engorged stomach into quiet… The way it had been, the way it should be again. "But that will not be. Not ever again."
"Do not deny that you want it too," exclaimed Faramir. He could see Éowyn's body shaking. And he hated it. "You carry my children. Let me take care of you, and them. I know your body aches when you are carrying. I can make that better for you." He leant up, taking Éowyn's face in his hands. "I know you feel for me too."
"Not anymore," Éowyn protested weakly. With his thumbs, Faramir gently wiped at the tears which streamed from her eyes. "No."
But Faramir was rising, his face was at the same level as hers, and suddenly, his lips were on hers. Éowyn did not have it in her to protest. She forgot all her precious arguments, as Faramir kissed her. Those lips had not met hers in months, and in anything more than a quick peck for more months before that than she cared to remember. She could feel herself becoming heated, swiftly, as Faramir's mouth worked its magic. Soon she found the man she loved – though she could not bring herself to admit it – climbing onto the edge of the lap that he could, his hands straying, doing wonderful things on her body, but above the cloth of her thick dress, never going too far. That was ultimately Faramir. Never going to far. Éowyn began to cry anew, salt mingling in the kiss.
Eventually, she broke away, gasping, her chest heaving up and down. There were tears in Faramir's own eyes. "I am so sorry… I should never…" he panted, climbing off her lap.
"No you should not," Éowyn replied, her voice breaking. Her hands ached to pull him back down, but she restrained them. "Please leave."
"May I call on you and the children tomorrow?" Faramir asked, getting to his feet, and straightening his clothes.
Éowyn nodded. There was nothing else she could do. She watched him leave, and then she broke down.
000
Days passed, a week, and then another. Yet Cariad did not leave his room. Nothing could bring him out – no bribe, no blackmail, no convincing logic. Slowly, the soldiers returned from Merelent's farm, and went on their leave, Aragorn treated his son with balms and oils, and Elladan and Elrohir helped him with it when they returned.
When Elladan and Elrohir first examined Cariad, Elladan flew to the boy's side, but Elrohir drew his youngest brother aside. With concerned deepening in his eyes, Elrohir asked him if he was alright.
"I am not the one who refuses to leave his room or sleep in there without someone sat with him," Aragorn pointed out. "Spare not your anxiety for me, but for my son."
"You are pale, Aragorn," Elrohir said in his defence, and lifted his hand to check Aragorn's forehead.
The human caught the rising hand before it could reach his skin. "Do not be foolish; I am not ill. I am tired of course, but I am working long hours at the moment. Faramir is with his family and I do not trust everything to the scribes. The Steward knows best how the relations with him. Once I have gone through my work, I come in here to share Legolas' company. Cariad gets restless if we leave him alone, worryingly so."
Elrohir smiled for a moment, knowing full well that Aragorn was not visiting the elf just to keep Legolas company; he just hated to sleep without the elf's touch. However, then he returned to the matter in hand. "That is not what I meant. A misery lies on you though your son is returned."
Aragorn merely shook his head, bowing it to avoid his brother's eyes. The Peredhil knew him too well, and would see his emotions too quickly. That would just upset things. "I thought for a time, that I was with child. Recently, I discovered that I was not. Or that, were there, I had lost it."
He spoke it so emotionlessly that Elrohir could see the lie. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around his brother and held on for a long moment. When the younger twin drew away, he was shaking his head. "But Aragorn, surely you knew this to be a fact? Why could you even think that? I know you visited Elladan once a fortnight whilst we were in Hobbiton, and, afterwards, to find out if you were pregnant. I saw the hope in your eyes whenever you entered our tent, and the pain there whenever you left. Though you stopped when Cariad went missing, I doubt there was any passion between you and Legolas in that time…"
Hanging his head, wearily, Aragorn replied, "I thought I knew for a while, but… everything was so confusing during that time. I did not know what was happening inside me, and I thought that Elladan could not detect a child in the first month."
"That is true," Elrohir conceded.
"So… I dared to hope. But I was wrong and it does not matter anymore," Aragorn lied with ease, that was worryingly practiced. He felt like an elf, and he hated that. Something that had defined his youth with elves was the way that he made sure he expressed his emotions. He did not want to bury those feelings that he had been allowed to express with his human family before. Sometimes, the exuberance of his human emotions made the elder elves uncomfortable, and that had amused him then. Now… he was doing what they did, and… it was not right for him.
"Of course it matters!" exclaimed Elrohir, interrupting his thoughts, but the elf could not carry on, as his twin was speaking.
"You did the right thing," Elladan said, standing up and nodding towards Cariad. "I can see that there was some infection, but it is clearing, and new skin is being formed over the cuts."
"Will he scar?" Aragorn asked, swallowing nervously for his son. He did not want the marks to remain with Cariad forever, as if Merelents followed him everywhere, reminding him daily. The scars on Aragorn's own body reminded him of bad times, and he hated them. Unconsciously, he rubbed at the newest one, across his forearm.
"Some of them," Elladan confessed.
Miserably, Aragorn sighed. They would always be there and so, therefore, would the torment. There was no way he could cure all those ills.
000
Thranduil was the last person to return, as he had organised the return of every man to every village as well as the organisation of the household. Deciding that the household had suffered enough, however, against Legolas' wishes – which involved burning the house to the ground, preferably with those who had known inside – Thranduil let every single one of them go to eke out whatever life they could in the cruel Eastern lands of Gondor. As Bardlet had done, Thranduil washed and changed quickly, before heading straight for Cariad's room.
Cariad was laying in his bed, staring at the wall. He jumped when the door creaked and Thranduil entered the room, looking around, alarm in his eyes. When he saw who was in his room, he merely shrugged, saw Legolas rise to greet Thranduil, then turned away again.
"No greeting for me, Cariad?" Thranduil asked, immediately abrasive. Humans had little sense of protocol, and the Elven King was used to people standing for him when he entered the room. Even family ought to at least show some respect – acknowledging his existence for a start.
"Atar, do not," Legolas warned at once, desperate. "Please do not."
Reluctantly, Thranduil turned away from the boy and said, "There is no point in me being here if he will not say anything to me."
"I know," Legolas said, placating, holding his hands up at his father's chest level. He ignored the offense to himself, that he was there even Cariad did not react, but swallowed his pride with his misery. "But-"
"I helped to save him. He could at least greet me when I enter a room," grumbled Thranduil.
"Atar, stop it," Legolas gasped. "You are not the only one he does not react to. It hurts more when it is his own fathers that are ignored. If you are tired from riding, then do not dare bring irritation into my son's room." From the light of six dozen candles, Thranduil could see how exhausted and anxious his son was.
"What is going on?" sighed Thranduil, giving in.
000
Legolas lay exactly where Aragorn had found him many minutes earlier; on the rug in front of the fire. The only thing that had changed was that his head rested in Aragorn's lap, and his hand clutched the human's tightly
"It has been two weeks," moaned Legolas, his eyes on his son's rigid back. "He has not come back to us. He is worse than ever before. He barely speaks at all, not even to me."
"He has been through a trauma. You can not expect him to emerge on the other side of this as he was before so quickly. He needs more time," Aragorn murmured, twisting strands of the elf's silky hair slowly through his fingers.
"Atar has been speaking to me," Legolas said, cautiously.
"Your father has been talking to you at length for the past week," muttered Aragorn. "Since he arrived here, he has been murmuring in your ear constantly."
"He is my father. He has every right to do so," replied Legolas. "He thinks we should take Cariad away. To Ithilien. There it will be a change in the environment, and it may make him better."
Already, Aragorn was shaking his head, bowing over his husband.. "You can not leave. Not only can you not leave me here - not again, not with the memories of the last time I remained here whilst you visited Thranduil - you will not have a chance of getting him out of this room, let alone all the way to Osgiliath."
The elf's eyelids were heavy and Legolas closed his eyes, letting the tiredness win out. "My father will think of something."
"In the past, you have been the creative one," Aragorn said, frowning in the firelight. It's heat was heady, making Aragorn feel drowsy as he carried on. "This room is a poison to you. You are no longer yourself either."
Legolas' limbs were heavy as he reached out for the blanket trailing on the floor from the chair, and dragged it over himself. Carefully, Aragorn settled it around himself as well, and tucked it tighter about his husband. "I am tired, Aragorn."
The human frowned. "Do not add yourself to the list of people that I have to worry about, Legolas, please. Faramir has been driven to distraction by Éowyn, every time I see that woman she is pale and bowed by the weight of her relationship problems, and Cariad I fret about night and day. You… do not add to my worries."
"I am sorry. I do not meant to," sighed Legolas.
"I know you do not. All things weigh heavily on my mind," Aragorn said, his thumb rubbing the side of Legolas' fist. "When was the last time that you went outside? You hate being locked in like this. I see that every day."
It said enough that Legolas had to pause and think about his answer. It had been far too long. "The day after Cariad came home. I took the other children outside for an hour. Maybe less."
Immediately, Aragorn sat up and ordered, "Come outside with me. Come outside, now."
Legolas chuckled, cynicism bourn of exhaustion. "And how, precisely, do you propose doing that? If we leave, Cariad will wake and find himself alone. He will panic."
"Not if we are careful. And very quiet," Aragorn said. "And he does need to get used to being by himself. We can not keep taking turns in here so we can wash!"
"Maybe we should feed him a herb to make him sleep," Legolas spoke casually, but then his eyes shot wide open, all of a sudden. It had originally been a joke, but it would work! "That is what we should do. Not just now… to get him to Ithilien."
"You will terrify him," exclaimed Aragorn, his hands freezing in the tracks of their comforting motions. "Imagine falling asleep in one place, and waking up in another. That would scare even you."
"He is suffering and we do not know how to fix him. He is like an elf… fading away," Legolas said, urgently. "We need to break him out of the grey clouds of despair and drag him into the sun. Ithilien is a peaceful place in which to do that. If anyone knows how to break out of the grips of darkness, it is my Atar. He has done it twice.."
Aragorn did not want to agree at all, and argued, "We can not do that with herbs. He will not trust us ever again. For Elbereth's sake, Legolas, he thinks we lied to him already."
"Get me out of here." Legolas sat upwards, breaking away from the touch. "Please find that sleeping draught and give him a little of it. Take me outside into the night. Just for an hour. I can not bear this room. Free me, Aragorn!" Legolas so rarely asked anything of Aragorn, and he could not deny his husband this one small thing which would bring him a small amount of happiness, when so much misery surrounded him. Whenever he could, he would oblige his husband, and right now… Ai, anything for him.
"Stay here," Aragorn ordered. "I will be back in moments."
000
"We should not be doing this," Aragorn mumbled, pulling his cloak around himself. "This is so wrong."
Legolas turned on him, glaring, his eyes blazing in the light of the torches in their brackets along the pathway. "Even humans if they stay inside for too long begin to waste away. Their spirits die away. Do not ruin this for me too." He turned back to gaze up at the sky with a whip of his hair.
With a reluctant sigh, Aragorn took a few steps forwards and slid his arms around his husband's waist. He drew the elf back against himself. In silence, Legolas took a breath, and his own hands gripped the arms that held him. He leant back into the hold. "If it was too much of a problem for me, I would not be here," Aragorn murmured, his lips against Legolas' hair. "I would have stayed and let you come out here by yourself."
"Yet here you stand," Legolas said, triumphantly.
"Yet here I stand," Aragorn repeated.
Legolas' long, slender neck arched back so that the elf's head rested against the human's shoulder. He stared up at the sky. It was a beautiful night. The sky, like black ink, with just the slightest hint of navy blue in the direction of the lights of Osgiliath. The stars scattered across it, the small pinpricks of light like tiny shards of crystal, as broken as the tiny child that lay unconscious in a forced sleep, swaddled in blankets. "The sky is stunning tonight."
Gently, Aragorn raised his hand and traced his coarse fingers down the skin of Legolas' pale throat. "Not as stunning as you this night. Every night. Every day. Nothing beats your beauty."
Under the touch, Legolas shivered, "Do not do that."
In a heated voice, Aragorn growled, "If you are to be leaving me for weeks on end, I want to relish any chance I have to raise goosebumps on your flesh and heat your blood to bring roses to your cheeks."
Legolas had blushed a little, and it was confusing his body – the heat from his husband's body on one side and the cool wind, blowing with autumn power, catching up falling leaves as it went, on the either side. The power did well at clearing his head. "Are you saying you will let me take Cariad go to Ithilien?"
"Yes I am," Aragorn sighed, "I will miss you so much that it hurts to even think of it, but… it is not fair of me to keep you and the child here. Your father is a wise man, wiser than I could ever strive to be, and I know that he too would do anything for you and Cariad. Nothing we have done has brought Cariad out of his shell or out of his room. Maybe he will be able to with your father's help."
"He says I am too gentle with the children," Legolas said, frowning to himself.
"If you have any fault, it is that you love us to much," Aragorn replied, "And I do not think that that is a fault at all." He caressed Legolas' neck maddeningly, as he spoke.
Legolas lifted his hand to his neck and took Aragorn's hand in his own. He raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. "Thank you, melda."
"Just tell me that you will miss me too," Aragorn sounded weary, every bit the long suffering parent and husband.
"Does it even need saying?" Legolas asked. He kissed each of the knuckles on the hand he held, and told him, "I will miss you. So much. And Rilluin, and Liantasse. And my home here."
"You are leaving me to put Éowyn and Faramir back together by myself," Aragorn reminded him. "I resent you for that."
"You are catching up with your work already, and I know you will do admirably with the two of them." Legolas took in a deep breath, a lungful of frigid air. "Walk with me."
What words were traded in that darkness, when the lights on the path disappeared, are known only to the trees and the wildlife, but were always to be remembered by the couple who shared them. Under the dark canopy, promises were made, a love made to last an eternity confirmed and reiterated. They emerged eventually from the darkness of the hidden world with their love stronger than ever. Neither would break from the other whilst they were separated.
A/N: Happy Christmas everyone! Thank you for all the reviews! I'm on a friend's internet so I can't reply to them I'm afraid and I've been too busy to reply before now, with plays and christmas and exams and volunteering... But I hope you've had a good time this season. I'll update soon. And I mean that this time - promise.
