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King Elessar Telcondar stood up from his throne, taking the heavy crown and heavier cloak off his head and shoulders with a sigh of relief. It had been a long day hearing the petitions of his subjects from both near and far, and, as these things went, not all the decisions had been easily reached or pleasantly taken. He was glad to be putting aside the trappings of his station and ducking through the side door that led into his family's private apartments.
His wife looked up at him, her starry eyes aglow—but not with the light of love. Her face was flushed and cross, and looking down at her feet, Elessar, or Aragorn as he preferred to be called at home, could see the reason for her irritation. Their small son, Eldarion, had created a vast army out of odds and ends, amongst which Aragorn could see the harassed mother's spools of thread and her thimble, as well as her inkwell and her keys.
"I can't stir a step without being exhorted not to step on the riders of Rohan," she said, rolling her eyes. "And forget asking for my inkwell back—apparently if so, I doom us all by keeping Master Frodo from reaching the mountain."
"Ah. I see." Aragorn smiled. "I believe I can manage something." He waded carefully through the intricately laid out armies, heedless of his son's alarmed cries, and caught up the Lady Arwen his wife, carrying her safely out of the way of the climactic battle. "Now, allow me to tend to the work of war in here while you go and do whatever you need to do."
"May I have my inkwell?"
"Mama!" Eldarion scolded. "I need that."
"Not if you have this, my son." Aragorn reached into his pocket and removed the small clasp knife he carried. He handed it to the boy. "I think this bears a much greater resemblance to Master Frodo. The inkwell is too heavy." He winked at Arwen. "That's far more like Master Samwise."
"Oh, no, Samwise the Brave is the knight," Eldarion said, putting a finger on a piece purloined from Aragorn's chess set.
"That he is," Aragorn agreed. He handed the inkwell to Arwen, who mouthed a thank you before fleeing the room.
Small as he was, their son was possessed of a lively and active imagination—and rather spoiled into the bargain, Aragorn had to admit. He wore his mother down over the course of the day. Fortunately, Aragorn found the child's simplicity restful and invigorating at the end of a long day. More than once, he had solved a knotty problem based on something Eldarion had said all unawares.
"Tell me about Samwise the Brave, Father."
"Haven't I told you about all of them over and over?"
"Yes. But you could tell me again." The little boy smiled, his long dark lashes sweeping over his blue eyes, so like his mother's, in a way that Aragorn could rarely refuse.
Nor did he want to. Those days of the Fellowship were long gone, but Aragorn still thought of them frequently. Letters from the Shire did not come often enough for his taste, although he would be the first to admit that his in return didn't flow as quickly as he would like, either. Legolas visited on occasion, Gimli more rarely. And in truth it was probably for the best; his people needed him focused on the future, not wallowing in nostalgia for past friends. But in these moments alone with his son, he could remember his friends to his heart's content.
Lying down on the floor and picking up the knight that stood in place of Sam—and imagining that worthy hobbit's blushes if he had known how exalted he was by the young heir to the throne of Gondor—Aragorn said, "What would you like to hear now?"
"Tell me how he defeated the spider."
"You know I wasn't there at the time."
"No, but you know the story." Eldarion's bottom lip was beginning to stick out, a sign that he was tiring and the story would eventually lead to a small meal, a bath, and bed.
"I do. Well, then …" Aragorn surveyed the armies before him, determining where the cave was likely to be. "Over here, deep in the darkness of a cave in the middle of Mordor, lived the great spider Shelob, killer of men." He handed two spools of thread and a thimble to Eldarion, looking pointedly at his mother's workbasket, and continued the story while the little boy put the things away. "She had taken a juicy prize this night, all unknown to her—the Ring-bearer, Frodo the Wise, who lay trussed up in her web, stiff with her poison. But another great personage was approaching, a hobbit who looked like any ordinary hobbit, but had the soul of a mighty warrior."
"Samwise the Brave," Eldarion whispered, his eyes as big and round as coins.
"Samwise the Brave," Aragorn confirmed. He handed his son his mother's keyring and keys, and watched as Eldarion began putting the keys back on the ring, his small face serious and intent on the task. "Samwise the Brave was armed with the great Orc-slayer, the sword Sting, and it glowed faintly as he carried it through the passages."
Eldarion whispered ominously, "There were Orcs nearby."
"That there were. And Samwise was terribly afraid."
"How can he be afraid if he's Samwise the Brave?"
"Because most sensible people are afraid when Orcs are near. It's how they handle that fear that makes them brave, and Samwise's love for Master Frodo was greater than his fear. For his master's sake, he would dare the darkness, and the Orcs, and Shelob herself." He took the keyring from Eldarion and handed him the knight and two pawns and a bishop from his chess set, watching as the little boy carefully set them back in their right places. "So Samwise carried Sting and he made his way through the tunnels, searching for Frodo. Finally he found him, pale and still and cold, and he was afraid, terribly afraid, that he was too late. But on closer inspection, he found that his friend was still alive, and there was yet time to save him."
"Except for Shelob." Eldarion picked up the last bits of his army and began putting them away without having to be asked.
Aragorn gave him an approving smile. "Yes, except for Shelob. The great spider was creeping up behind him, ready to pounce, and if she had … if she had once had the chance to shoot her poison into Samwise the Brave, it would have been the end of everything. The great Fellowship would have failed utterly, and darkness would have spread all across the lands of men and elves and dwarves and hobbits." He shivered even now, thinking of how many times they had come within a hair's breadth of failing.
"But she didn't, because Samwise turned around with Sting in his hand, and he stabbed her right in the guts!" Eldarion mimicked the action with an imaginary sword. "And her insides came spraying down on him and she screamed, and he hit her again!"
Smiling at his son's blood-thirstiness, Aragorn nodded. "That he did. And again, until she had had enough and she ran off, never to be seen again."
"Until another brave warrior goes into those caves, sword held high," Eldarion whispered, half to himself, holding his imaginary sword high in the air.
"Brave Eldarion?" Aragorn asked.
"Brave Eldarion. Take that, Shelob! And that!"
"Let's hope brave Eldarion doesn't forget the Orcs, who crawl out of the darkness and grab him by the ankle." Aragorn suited the action to the words, hauling his son into his arms and lifting him high. "Ah-ha, the Orc is victorious!"
"No, you don't!" Eldarion was writhing in Aragorn's grasp, but he was giggling, too. "Wait till I get free, you mean old ugly Orc!"
The battle raged on, between Brave Eldarion and the mean old ugly Orc, until a gentle but pointed clearing of the throat caught them mid-struggle. They looked up to see the great Lady Arwen, arms crossed and foot tapping. "Perhaps you have both forgotten about dinner?"
"Perhaps," Aragorn admitted guiltily, getting up from the floor. "Would you forgive me for a kiss?"
Just as she was lifting her face, Eldarion squeezed between them. "Me, too!"
"You, too," she said, picking him up and kissing him soundly. Then Aragorn got his kiss at last, and he followed his wife and son into the dining room, hoping that far away in the Shire, Merry and Pippin and Sam were also in the midst of yet another meal and round of story-telling. Men could learn much from hobbits, he reflected, and began thinking of what story he would tell his son tomorrow.