46 – THE BIRTH OF THE NEW KINGDOM
The three days between Tíniel's proposal and the wedding were without a doubt the happiest in Aragorn's life – so far, at least. Tíniel came down to the encampment every day to see him and the others. He delighted in the simple touches they shared and the small moments when their eyes met. He delighted in the knowledge that she was his, and he hers, properly this time – not secretly in stolen moments.
"Are you nervous?" she asked him, when they had a moment alone the day before he was to enter the city. "About the coronation, I mean."
"No," he said. He had pushed her along the outer wall of Minas Tirith, and now they had stopped. The chair was abandoned a few yards back, and they both sat with their backs to the wall, looking out at the Pelennor. "I was before, but I think I was more afraid of doing it all alone."
An easy smile spread across her face. He was seeing it more and more of late. It made her beautiful. "No chance of that now," she said.
"Thank the Valar," he said, reaching over and pulling her into his side. "Have you spoken to your brother about everything?"
"Yes. You should have seen how excited he was."
Aragorn smiled. "I am glad."
"He thinks it a great honour for me to become a Queen. And I didn't know you two were such good friends, but he is very pleased that I am to be married to you."
"A lot happened while you were sleeping after your battle with the Witch-king," he replied cryptically.
"Oh really?"
"Really. How do you think he'll do as Khondyë of your tribe?"
"He'll do wonderfully," she said with feeling. "I may have been the heir, but it was him that our father raised to be a Khondyë, more than he did me. Not to mention the fact that he's already been doing my job while I've been… occupied. But he'll be fine. Better than fine."
"Everything is coming together, don't you think?" he said. She craned her neck to look up at him.
"Yes," she said. He leaned down and kissed her briefly.
"I should get you back to the City," he said.
"You should," she said softly, "but do you have to?"
"There are things that need to be done."
"When I'm the Queen, I shall order everyone else to do them for us. And then you will never need to leave my side."
"I'd be worried," he said, "if I didn't know for certain that you will want to oversee every single particular, meet every single emissary and sign every piece of paper yourself."
Her lips twitched. "I think you know me too well to marry me."
He grinned. "Come on. Walk to your chair."
"Get me my stick?"
He disentangled himself from her side, got to his feet and went over to her chair, from which he took a polished cane of dark wood. He handed it to her and helped her to stand up, wincing himself when she hissed sharply in pain.
"Sorry."
"It's fine," she said, her voice a little strained. "It's just the movement." She leaned heavily on the stick and made her slow, wobbling way back to the chair. He smiled as he watched her. Never before had he met anyone with as much tenacity as her, and he doubted he ever would.
She glanced back at him. "What?"
"Nothing," he said. "I'm just in love with you."
"Good," she said. "Now can you help me down, please?"
He wheeled her back to the encampment where Legolas met them.
"You were gone hours," the Elf said. "I did not know whether or not to send out a search party."
Aragorn snorted. "Valar forbid that I ever need a search party. I have never been lost in my life."
Legolas' mouth twitched. "That is a lie. Are you headed back into the city, Tíniel?"
"Yes," she said. "There is a lot to do before tomorrow, and I think I have run away from the work long enough."
Aragorn bent down and kissed her forehead. "Then I will see you tomorrow," he said.
"I will meet you in the city," she said. "And you'll finally be king."
He heart swelled within him. "And you my queen."
"The patience of Elves is legendary," Legolas said darkly. "But even I have my limits."
Tíniel laughed. "Alright, alright. Let's go."
That night she slept up in the citadel, and the next morning she was woken before the dawn by a loud knock. She blinked awake blearily and wondered if she'd imagined it until it came again.
"Who is there?" she called, trying to push herself into a sitting position.
"Anita and Éowyn," came Lothíriel's voice. Tíniel smiled.
"Come in," she called sleepily. "It's unlocked, and I can't get up."
The door was flung open and the three women entered, their arms full of things that Tíniel couldn't even begin to identify.
"Why are you here?" she yawned. "The sun isn't even up yet. Is someone dead?"
"We're here because it's your wedding day!" Anita said with unholy alacrity, dumping her armfuls of cloth on the end of the bed as Éowyn began lighting candles and illuminate the room. "And we're going to make you the most beautiful woman in the New Kingdom."
"And that will take several hours, if it is at all possible," Lothíriel said, smiling cheekily. "So rise and shine, Your Highness!"
Tíniel groaned and pulled the blanked over her head. "Another three hours of sleep would make me beautiful," she mumbled.
Éowyn snatched the blanket away and pulled her gently upright. "Come on, now! There is a lot to do, and not enough time to do it in!"
They began by undoing the braids in her hair.
"How did you do these?" Lothíriel asked as she unravelled more of the tiny, tight-wound braids. "They must have taken hours!"
"They do," Tíniel said. "I did them myself, a few months or so ago now. Sometimes I don't bother to do it all like that, but I like it when they're done properly."
"I think the braids are beautiful," Éowyn said.
"And I hope they don't take us too long to recreate," Anita muttered.
Tíniel smiled. "You can do up my hair however you like," she said. "No one will see it under my vadi anyway."
"Are you serious?" Lothíriel said. "Why in the name of Estë are we bothering with this, then?"
"Well, it's the thought that counts anyway," Anita muttered undoing the last braid.
"No," Lothíriel said darkly. "No, my thoughts are too precious to waste on this."
"Could you be a little bit more dramatic, please?" Éowyn said sarcastically.
"I'm getting my revenge," Lothíriel declared. "I shall be the one to wash her."
Tíniel frowned at her ominous tone. "Wash me?"
Once her hair was done, Anita and Éowyn filled a tub with hot water, stripped her naked, and together, lowered her into the water.
"Your scars," Éowyn murmured. "They're bad."
"At least most of the bruises have faded," Tíniel replied grimly, looking down at her torso. Wide, ugly, jagged lines marked where the Witch-king's mace had broken her skin.
"I've seen worse," Anita said briskly. "Now, brace yourself. Lothíriel's coming."
Lothíriel stepped forward, her face fixed with determination and a shadow of dark triumph.
"No, thank you," Tíniel said, but she was too late to stave off the attack. Lothíriel descended and began scrubbing with such a vengeance that Tíniel could feel her skin coming off.
"Ow!" she snapped. "My ribs still hurt you know!"
"You poor thing," Lothíriel crooned, wringing out the cloth and attacking again. "But if you want to look halfway presentable for your own wedding, your ribs will have to bear it."
"You're the worst," Tíniel groaned as Lothíriel started on her hair. "You sadistic – ow! You didn't have to pull that!"
"But it was fun," Lothíriel replied comfortingly.
Next she was patted dry and then dabbed with some sweet-smelling oil. Then, as the sun peeked over the mountains in the East, Éowyn and Lothíriel each grabbed a dress from the pile on the bed.
"Alright," Éowyn said. "Which one?"
Tíniel stared. Éowyn held up a dress of deep red that had lace on the bodice and gold stitching on the skirt. Lothíriel held up one of dark blue and glimmering silver – Gondor colours – and with a long train.
"They're both lovely," she said at last. "But I'm afraid tradition dictates that I wear my tunic."
"Aha!" Anita said, going over to the bed and digging through the pile. "I win!"
Tíniel frowned. "What?"
"Anita thought you would want to wear your tunic," Éowyn sighed. "But we two wagered you wouldn't."
"Our mistake," Lothíriel laughed. "I have never won a bet in my life."
"Well, you do have terrible judgement," Éowyn said.
"No, you have terrible judgement."
"No, I –" she stopped and shook her head. "I'm not doing this now."
"Good decision," Anita said. "Now, luckily for you, I noticed that you've been going about in that musty, too-big tunic that replaced your old one. So, I made you another."
She lifted up a tunic from the bed and showed it to Tíniel, who caught her breath. It was almost identical to every other Khandi tunic, except this one was woven of a softer, richer fabric. And stitched in gold thread on the right shoulder was a sword and a setting sun, the emblem of the Maruvikh. On the left shoulder, the stars and tree of Gondor glinted silver in the morning sunshine.
"It's perfect," Tíniel said. "Perfect. Anita, you are a real friend."
"What are we?" Lothíriel said to Éowyn. "Cave-trolls?"
"Quit your complaining and come help me do up her hair," Anita said happily.
It was near to midday when they finally finished.
"Now I know the real reason you wanted to start early," Tíniel said grumpily, watching them all from her vantage point on the bed. "So you could have enough time to get yourselves ready!"
"Correct," Lothíriel said, adjusting her earrings carefully. "We actually don't care how you look."
"Well, hurry up!" she said. "Faramir told me to be there before midday! We're going to be late!"
"Relax," Éowyn said. "As long as you don't miss the wedding part, or the bit when they put the crown on your head, you'll be fine."
"Éowyn! It's the return of the king! The king!"
"Ignore them, Tíniel," Anita said, laughing. "We wouldn't dream of making you late."
Of course, as it happened, they were late.
"Where have you been?" Faramir hissed as Éowyn pulled Tíniel's chair up beside him.
"Waiting for all these lovely ladies to stop ruffling their feathers," she whispered back. "Relax, he isn't here yet."
"He just entered the city," Faramir said, "so we have a little while." He looked down and took a proper look at her. His eyes widened fractionally. "Tíniel, you're beautiful."
She blushed. She could tell that, for once, he wasn't joking. "And you look the picture of a Gondorian Steward," she said, matching his sincerity. "Faramir, I am so proud of… of everything. We did it."
He glanced at all the noble men and women around them, then knelt before her and took her hands.
"Tíniel, you are wonderful. You really are."
"Alright now –"
"No, let me finish," he said, and smiled. "You are the only family I have left, and today I am losing you to some ranger from the North."
"You aren't losing me," she said. "You're keeping me, if anything, for I'm not going back to Khand."
He grinned. "You're not going to let me be serious, are you?"
She shook her head and grinned. "I don't want to cry today."
"Very well. For your sake then." He squeezed her hands. "I'll only say that I love you very, very, very much. And I can't think of anyone that I wish more happiness for."
Despite herself, Tíniel felt a prickling behind her eyes. "I love you too," she said. "Thank you. Thank you for everything."
Faramir sniffed. "You're right. We should stop being nice."
"Told you so. Why am I always right?"
He stood up and moved back to his place beside her. They were positioned before the doors of the Great Hall, where Aragorn and his party would stop and greet them. The road, from the outer gate all the way to the Great Hall, was lined with people.
At the very top, lining the courtyard that led to Tíniel and Faramir, stood the most powerful people in Middle-earth. Galadriel and Celeborn were there, along with Gandalf, Akhund, Elrond and his sons, Legolas, Gimli and the hobbits, Anita and Beregond, Tcharum and a handful of the Maruvikh, Lothíriel and Imrahil, and some of the knights of Dol Amroth, Éowyn, Éomer and a few of his Riders, the lords of Gondor who had rallied to Minas Tirith, as well as a few Elves, Men and Dwarves from the North that Tíniel had welcomed to the city earlier that week.
The kings from the South were there too, along with parties from Rhûn and Khand. Some looked nervous, out of place in the unfamiliar surroundings. Most looked about warily, and some of them studied her, taking in her dull red tunic, the polished blades that hung at her side, the vadi that covered her tightly braided hair, and the two glinting hamarakhi that hung around her neck.
Tíniel paid them no heed, her eyes fixed instead on the road on which Aragorn would soon emerge. The cheers from below were growing louder and louder, signalling the approach of the king and his Grey Company. Drawing in a steadying breath, she took her stick from the back of the chair.
"Faramir, your arm please?"
"Are you sure?" he asked.
She nodded. "I may be a cripple, but I am going to be standing when he comes," she replied with determination.
Obligingly, Faramir offered his hand, and she used it and the stick to push herself upright. A guard removed the chair and she stood, leaning on the stick, her eyes still fixed on the road.
Moments later, he appeared. The people began clapping and cheering instantly, the noise deafening. Tíniel remained silent, her eyes fixed on Aragorn.
He was walking at the head of the company of grey-cloaked rangers. He wore chainmail, and a dark blue tunic on which was embossed seven stars above a white tree. His reforged sword was buckled to his waist. Tíniel's breath caught in her throat; he looked grave, stern, kingly.
From a distance, she saw his eyes soften fractionally when he saw her standing beside Faramir. She felt her heart swell, and she wondered if it was possible for her to be happier.
When they reached the white tree, the Company stopped. Aragorn stepped forward, underneath its branches, and the clapping and cheering suddenly ceased. He looked up at it with wonder and sadness, and reached out to brush his fingertips against its ashy trunk.
It seemed that the city was holding its breath as he withdrew his hand and stepped back. They began walking again, and the next time they stopped, it was before Faramir and Tíniel. He gave a smile so small that no one but them would have been able to see it. Faramir's lips twitched in response, and he cleared his throat.
"Who are you to challenge the authority of the Steward?" he said, his voice loud enough to carry across the packed courtyard. He lifted his chin slightly, and suddenly he didn't look like her wayward, foul-mouthed, joking adopted brother at all, but a formidable man and a true leader.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dunedain, heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor, called Dúnadan, bearer of the sword that was broken and has been reforged, heir to the thrones of Gondor and Arnor, and rightful king of the Reunited Kingdom."
"And why have you come?" Faramir asked. The hairs on Tíniel's forearms stood on end.
"I have come," Aragorn said solemnly, "to reclaim my throne."
"For many years, my fathers and I have kept it," Faramir said. "For many years, we have protected and ruled this realm. But now, Aragorn son of Arathorn, I rejoice to see the throne no longer empty. Let a new age begin in Gondor and Arnor and the rest of Middle-earth! Let the New World be born! The reign of the Ruling Stewards is over, and the King has returned!"
The courtyard erupted into cheers again, and Aragorn smiled. "I accept the burden of the throne," he said, "but not without help. Tchakhura Khondyë of the Maruvikh of Khand, I ask for your hand in marriage and that you become my queen, and the ruling Queen of Gondor, Arnor and the Southlands."
"And I accept," she said immediately – perhaps too quickly – unable to stop herself from grinning. She heard Tcharum whoop wildly, and she laughed and took Aragorn's proffered arm. He helped her walk up the steps until they stood just before the door.
"You look so beautiful," he whispered in her ear.
"So do you."
"Men aren't supposed to look beautiful. They're supposed to be handsome."
"Well that's a shame, because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
They turned and faced the crowd again, and Gandalf and Akhund, respectively dressed in robes of white and blue, approached.
"I have waited for this day for centuries," Gandalf said quietly, holding up a crown of silver.
"As have I," Akhund said, doing the same thing. "An early retirement sounds good, does it not, Gandalf?"
"We have waited for it long enough," the other wizard said, and they both held up the crowns to show to the crowd. Gandalf lowered his onto Aragorn's head. "Long live the King!" he cried.
"Long live the King!" echoed through the crowd, and then, like a ripple, through the city. It was deafening, awe-inspiring, and it made Tíniel's heart squeeze in her chest. Akhund slowly lowered his crown onto her head, and smiled warmly at her.
"Khuma Khondyë!" he shouted, turning back to face the crowd. There was a beat of confused silence, but then Tcharum's deep voice echoed across the courtyard.
"Khuma Khondyë!" he bellowed. Then Jekilah and Magakh took up the cry, and suddenly it spread through the city just like before. The sound was thunderous. Aragorn and Tíniel exchanged a glance, and then he took her hand.
"One more thing," Akhund said, and produced a medallion on a silver chain.
"A hamarakhi?" Tíniel asked.
"The King of the Southlands should have one, don't you think?" Akhund replied. Aragorn bowed his head, and the wizard draped it carefully around his neck. "It is a heavy burden to bear," he said, "but you will bear it together."
"Free people of Middle-earth," Gandalf cried. "King Aragorn Telcontar and Queen Tchakhura Rómentári!"
Every man, woman, Elf, Dwarf and hobbit in the city knelt before them, and Tíniel and Aragorn stood hand in hand before them.
"Can you believe it?" he whispered as they looked down over the hundreds and thousands of bowed heads.
"It's the new world," she replied. "We're going to rebuild it."
"Together," he said. "Always together."
They were married on the steps of the Great Hall. Merry and Pippin whistled loudly when they kissed, and Tíniel didn't think her heart could grow any fuller. When the ceremony was over, music struck up, food was produced, and the crowds began to disperse for the celebrations. Tcharum was the first to come up and congratulate them.
"I am happy," he said, grinning broadly and kissing Aragorn on both cheeks. "I am happy!"
"Me too," Aragorn laughed. "A pity we didn't have a Khandi styled wedding."
"A pity?" Tíniel raised an eyebrow. "Tradition would dictate that you have to fight my family for me, and that I fight yours to take you. So if you fancy crossing blades with Tcharum here…"
"I am ready," Tcharum shrugged, and Aragorn's eyes widened fractionally.
"Perhaps another day," he said. Tíniel and Tcharum both laughed, but then Aragorn's attention was taken by Halbarad.
"I love you to the stars and back, Tcharum," Tíniel said in Khandi, turning to him.
"And I you. Take care of your man."
"You know I will."
He embraced her, and she held him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.
"I will miss you," he whispered.
"I'll miss you too," she replied. "But this time, we are both doing what we are meant to do. This time, we'll be happy."
"The trade routes will be open. We'll build one of those roads that the Northmen like so much. I'll see you again."
There was a small disturbance behind them, and Mahaya and Harûk stumbled to the front of the milling crowd. Tíniel laughed, but Tcharum took one look at Harûk and shook his head.
"That's my cue," he said to Tíniel. "I'm not dealing with him today. I'll see you later!"
"Good afternoon!" Mahaya said as Tcharum disappeared into the milling mass of people.
"Great afternoon," Harûk agreed, leaning heavily to one side. Tíniel blinked.
"Are you alright, Harûk?"
"Oh, he's drunk," Mahaya said with little concern. "He decided you getting married was an event worth celebrating. Although, anyone anywhere could get married and Harûk would celebrate."
"But Tíniel," Harûk slurred, "is special. She is like a daughter to me."
Tíniel wrinkled her nose in distaste. "That is not true."
"I'm going to put him to bed," Mahaya said. "I just thought we should come up and say hello before he started punching people."
"You know," Harûk said earnestly, "I'm sad a lot. But today is happy."
"Yes, it is," she said, patting him on the shoulder. She looked at Mahaya. "Any word of Remuil?"
"None," he said. "I'm starting to think the man might be dead after all."
Tíniel hesitated. She knew he was alive; she'd seen him in Minas Tirith, watching her from the walls. But he'd been avoiding her, and obviously everyone else that knew him. Was it her place to say anything if he didn't want to be found?
"Don't give up hope yet," she said. "Where will I find you, if I hear anything?"
"Somewhere in the second circle, where the rest of the brown people are," Mahaya grinned. "And wherever there's the most rum."
"Right," she laughed. "Well, take care of Harûk."
"I don't need… I don't need to take care of Harûk," Harûk said indignantly.
"Tíniel," Mahaya said, smiling lopsidedly. "I might not be very good at being emotional, but... I'm happy for you. I really am. If anyone deserves a happy ending, it's you."
"Thank you, Mahaya," she said earnestly. "You know, you two will always be the first friends I made outside of Khand."
"And the quality never improved," he said with another grin.
They disappeared into the crowd, and Tíniel tugged on Aragorn's elbow.
"What is it?" he said.
"It's getting painful. I need to sit down."
He nodded at someone, and her chair was brought forward. He lowered her into it.
"Who would have thought the first queen of the New Kingdom would be in a wheelchair," she said. Aragorn smiled and adjusted her vadi.
"Your chair is the least noticeable thing about you," he said. "Now, look important. We have another few hours yet to go."
So they turned back to be congratulated by someone else.
Writing these kinds of chapters is weirdly fun. They have literally no plot, but they're so nice! Thank you for reading, and keep an eye out for the next chapter – the last real chapter – which will be along in no time.
I also want to remind you all to follow my author page so that you can get notified when the next story goes up, which will be up SUPER SOON. It's called A Reckoning in Esgorath, and it'll be a bit different thematically and style-wise (consider yourselves my guinea pigs, and these stories my literary experiments). But it will still exist within the LotR universe, and I'm so excited to share it with you! Check my profile for more info.
And of course, don't forget to follow, favourite and review this story for the tiny bit of life it has left in it. Catchya.
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