For the moment, Tarisilya didn't ask Aragorn about Erestor's message anymore. In the next few days, she tried hard to suppress the thought of this night and concentrated only on her recovery, not so much for herself but for the child that shouldn't be suffering from her carelessness.
Which was why she was very confused about Aragorn calling her to his chambers immediately in the morning when she was allowed to get up again for the first time.
As usual, the white breakfast table in his living chambers was richly filled with a big selection of bread and spread, but neither Aragorn nor Arwen had touched their plate. The two of them didn't exactly look like one imagined a happy couple that was about to get married.
It seemed, there had once more not been much sleep tonight. Arwen's pretty, jet-black hair was unusually stringy; her cheeks looked almost as hollow as in the time of her recovery after the Battle at the Black Gate. The situation became more burdening for all of them by the day.
"My soldiers have watched the forge undercover day and night," Aragorn explained when Tarisilya sat down with them. "Yesterday, exactly at the time that the parchment said …" He stared at the dresser where a filigree bracelet lay next to his crown. A few links were torn as if people had been fighting over it. A bright jewel sat in its center, glistening in the light white like snow. Only a closer look revealed the symbol of the White Tree with the three stars crowning it was engraved on its smooth surface.
"I couldn't believe it if I didn't hold it in my own hand. Deadly poison was delivered to the smith. An elvish poison, top-secret and forbidden. You can find the instructions for it only in very few books, and all of them are being locked up. A small amount is enough …" Aragorn carefully took the bracelet by the upper edge and showed Tarisilya the lower one which was adorned with countless needles, hidden by a second silver ring on the inside of the jewel that could be closed like a lid. "The soldiers watched this traitor put the poison on it. Given how frail the needles are being from the treatment already, that surely wasn't the first time. I guess it would only have taken a single touch …"
With wide eyes, Tarisilya looked back and forth between the bracelet and Aragorn and Arwen. Only slowly, the realization of what could have happened on the day that was supposed to be one of the most beautiful ones in their lives for the two of them hit her. "So Erestor told the truth."
"About this, yes. Which doesn't mean though that him trying to do everything on his own means no danger to us. On the contrary. Actually, he's the only person who could have given the Stewardaides that poison, just like the one on the dagger last time. He's risking far too much for his role."
Aragorn put the jewel aside; they could see him suppress a shudder. "This should have been my wedding gift for Arwen."
Tarisilya's hands clenched around a mug with hot tea. She felt like she would never be able to eat or drink anything else again, at least not in the Citadel. "There are only a few elves as unpredictable as Erestor. Maybe he doesn't even understand how much can go wrong with his plan."
Alright, enough defending that guy for a month now. She had never been much of a masochist. Erestor would have to answer for this insanity when he came back; for this proud elf, that would be punishment enough.
"Well, but he should!" Only now, Arwen stirred for the first time. "One of the soldiers has lost an eye in that fight last night! Another one almost didn't survive it! Doesn't Erestor realize that he's putting innocents in danger, too? These men risk their lives to protect the King, which is exactly the job that ada has actually entrusted Erestor with. What is he thinking?" Wringing her hands, she fell silent again and finally reached for Aragorn's arm.
"I just want this to stop. More people could be harmed at any moment, just because they're loyal to their King. How are we supposed to enjoy our own wedding, knowing that?"
"We will have to try anyway. If we change any of our plans now, these criminals will get exactly what they want." Aragorn tried to approach this matter with rationality but the tired tone in his voice revealed how much the situation exhausted him, too.
"And what if another building goes up in flames during the blessings? Or if an assassination happens?" Arwen buried an uncontrolled hand in her hair. "This, we could only just prevent." With a mixture of disgust and anger, she eyed the bracelet. "What will they do if they can't get to the two of us? Chances are high, there will be third parties then once more who lose their lives."
With grief blooming anew in their hearts, they all thought about the cruel death by fire of little Ninor, and of the four lost Firstborn who had been just as little been responsible for any kind of politic rivalries.
"I'll increase the number of guards even further before the wedding. From now on, there'll be someone going on patrols nonstop at night. Besides, we'll call back as many of the men to duty as possible who have put their weapons down after the war. We need more soldiers." Incessantly stroking his beard, Aragorn stared away as he was already making plans in his head about how to organize the troops best. He was visibly not comfortable with people being forced to come out of retirement, but there didn't seem to be a choice.
"And if that won't help either?" Arwen wasn't the least bit calmer. "We saw what these men are capable of with our own two eyes."
"Then they will find the hard way what a King is capable of."
The flat tone in Aragorn's usually so bright, warm voice raised the hairs on Tarisilya's neck. She didn't dare ask what he meant. They could only hope that the Stewardaides would realize for themselves that they would soon no longer be unobserved in this city for even a second …
For everyone responsible for the security, the weeks until the wedding were shaped by the ongoing tense mood, even though for now, nothing else suspicious was happening.
Only people in the city seemed to be able to ignore, as anticipation grew, the fact that the King had enemies within his own walls. Since the ceremony date had gone public, the citizens were more in turmoil by the day. Bakers were creating luxurious cakes, true little pieces of art, to compete for who would be allowed to organize the event in the end. Cooks were making new proposals for the feast every day while servants on horseback brought invitations to Eryn Lasgalen, Imladris, and Lórien in a flash and came back home with flowers for the celebration from there. The folk had lost their initial doubts about the King especially since he had been assassinated and had survived that as good as unscathed, and people were looking forward to his big day just like him. Not even the dislike of Elves that Aragorn's enemies had provoked, was the main subject in the streets any longer.
On the contrary, the arrival of most of the elvish guests made the joyful excitement in the Citadel even more palpable. Both the streets and the big celebration hall in the Citadel were being decorated richly. In the first spring sun, the white walls seemed to be ablaze with light even more than in all that time since Sauron's fall. Within a few hours, a canopy of cloth was built on the big court in front of the White Tower, with a roof that could be opened and that the wedding party would be seated under.
The only thing disturbing the peaceful picture was the large number of guards whose presence was inevitable day and night by now.
For that reason alone, Arwen did her best to always put up a friendly face if she had company so that the people wouldn't get scared right again. But especially older handmaidens realized of course what was weighing down on her mind and had trouble dealing with it.
Therefore, it was surely not by chance that it was Ranír most of the time, caring for Arwen, the girl who had been assigned to be her personal servant a while ago. That way, there was always someone for Arwen to talk to around. And Ranír was getting more used to her new job by the day, that Aragorn had once personally given her, on Faramir's advice, partly, to bring her out of the depression that her losses in the War of the Ring had given her. It had long been decided that the hardworking young woman should stay by the future Queen's side after the wedding as well; the two of them really got along well.
The girl was very cleverly making sure that Arwen was spending more time with fittings and with reading answers to all those invitations than with worrying. Unfortunately, there was also hardly any time for the planned advanced combat training that she hoped would help her gain back the shape that she'd been in for centuries, before the war. The one that her body still didn't quite measure up to yet after her decision against immortality and her bad injury in the Battle of the Black Gate. Thanks to all the rest, she felt at least healthier than on any day since these big battles, and for that, she was being really grateful.
But even the company of that dark-haired, just as chipper as respectful woman, didn't manage to chase away the shadow entirely that had been filling Arwen's heart since that thing with the bracelet. Especially not when the day that she had been looking forward to so much, started with the report of a soldier that a few more Stewardaides had been arrested. Since then, she'd been thoughtfully staring at the courtyard from the window of the small temporary accommodations that she had been living in since the attack of the King's enemies on the Citadel. That she would be staying in until she would move into much larger chambers, located on the same floor as the King's.
"You're thinking about these men from last night, don't you?" Ranír behind her asked with a sigh. "Do not fret. We knew that there were still some of them out there, didn't we? Maybe the King can get these men to tell him something about their friends at last."
"Maybe." Lost in thought, Arwen played with the blossom-shaped pendant that her grandmother Galadriel had been her at Legolas' wedding. "That they're operating so shamelessly again that we could catch some of them though, proves the suspicion that the Stewardaides are planning something big once more."
Ranír had to agree with that. With a helpless shrug, she continued her efforts to make the chambers a little cozier, a hassle that had seemed exaggerated to Arwen, given the short time left she would spend here. It seemed to do Ranír good though to go a little crazy with some decoration, like those pretty cloths on the plainly carved furniture, or pictures on the wall, of Gondor's nature that had been so fertile before the war. Ranír had retired into the grey of her grief long enough. She herself could surely use a little bit of color as well.
Mostly focused on herself, Arwen startled when in her enthusiasm, the handmaiden let a vase slip from her hands whereupon it shattered on the floor.
Ranír immediately knelt down next to the shards, her face suddenly very white. She couldn't stop apologizing while she started to collect the remnants with so much agitation that she promptly cut herself.
Somehow, Arwen managed to stop her from talking. "Slowly, or you'll hurt yourself even more. Wait." She gently grabbed the wrists of the young woman who didn't even look up from her work. When she realized that the girl was afraid of punishment, her heart clenched in sympathy.
She knew a few of the other court ladies envied Ranír for having a job so close by Arwen's side, and that the young woman had surely heard more than a few sharp words from her mates before.
It pained Arwen's heart to see this hard-working, cordial girl being so beside herself. "Please, calm down. Nothing bad happened, really. Here, take this. You better send someone here with gloves and a broom to take care of this." She took one of her handkerchiefs from the dresser and put it carefully on the cut on Ranír's palm.
Ranír stared at her in disbelief. Only when Arwen nodded at her, she accepted the silver shining cloth with the crest of Imladris embroidered on it. "You're not angry?"
"There's truly worse things than a broken vase. You worry too much. Come on." Arwen helped her get up and retired to her spot by the window again.
The handmaiden's questioning glance quickly had her feel uncomfortable. "What is it? Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"No, I …" Ranír hesitated but then said what was on her tongue. "You're just so different. I mean, it shows that you didn't grow up at a court of Men."
Arwen's smile froze a little. "After a year full of lectures here, that's still showing so much?" She was promptly getting doubts again if she really was suited for the role as a Queen of Men.
Despite her order, the handmaiden quickly collected the rest of the shards, more careful this time though, cautiously grinning away. "Some things are not necessarily a disadvantage. I'll be right back. About time for you to get dressed."
That exactly turned out to be the next stress test though. Arwen repeatedly pressed her lips tight to keep herself from panting away uncontrolled while Ranír pulled the lacing of her dress far too tight. Finally, she signaled her to let it be, to leave the room for a while. She really had to find a way to stop the tension from growing inside of her before she could face anyone.
Taking a moment to catch her breath, she came to stand next to Tarisilya who had joined her by now and was sitting by the window with Conuiril on her lap, watching the ado in the yard. "Is he somewhere out there?" Yearningly, she tried to make out Aragorn's strong shape. A loving glance of her betrothed would have really been welcome right now.
When she caught the other she-elf's chiding look, she quickly lowered her hands that had been fidgeting with her skirt. "Ada would be terrified. Centuries-long lectures of etiquette will soon be completely in vain."
There was no use, she had to pull herself together. Her hair still needed to be done, and soon; and her dress was askew. Like most of the wardrobe that she had come up with together with her tailor since her arrival in Minas Tirith, the robe was a good combination of the style that she had preferred in the past, as an elf of noble blood, and the slightly plainer one of the women of Gondor. She was being comfortable in the flared long skirt and the shoulder-free blouse sporting wide sleeves, the under-bust corsage that she would be wearing on top of it. Each of the fabrics was white and adorned with silver embroidery, a color unusual for Arwen, which why it was so special on this day. There was a silver belt in the shape of a thin tendril around her hips – a gift of her father –, with a star-shaped blossom at the front. Except for Galadriel's necklace, it was the only jewelry she was wearing. Arwen was long forbidden from wearing her realm's circlet, and today, nothing else could touch her head either, until the tiara of the Queen of Gondor would be put upon it.
Thinking about the title she would carry soon only made Arwen's slight stomachache worse. "Can you lace me up without choking me like Ranír?"
"I will take no responsibility for that dress suddenly falling open in the middle of the wedding, but I'll be at least more gentle, I promise." When Tarisilya got up, her hand was on her belly, as it so often was. One would think, with time, her fear for the unborn would go away; instead, the longer the pregnancy lasted, the more irritated she was becoming.
Arwen admired the serenity with which Aragorn and Ioreth were smiling and mediating even during the other she-elf's most nonsensical public outbursts.
Legolas had once more taken the easy way out here. Since they didn't want him in Minas Tirith right now, he didn't need to apologize for his wife but could work together with the others in his camp on whatever they were planning unbothered.
Arwen strongly doubted though that Legolas would be happy once Tarisilya would finally tell him about that new pregnancy, weeks too late. Though the two of them were being at conflict and although Tarisilya was being caught in the middle due to her friendship with Aragorn anyway … After what had happened to their first child, it was anything but fair to keep her condition from her husband.
After the third attempt to appeal to Tarisilya's conscience though, Arwen had given up.
And today, her friend was really doing her best to look happy for Aragorn and Arwen. At this early stage of her pregnancy, it wasn't showing yet, so Tarisilya would still not have to deal with any curious questions. Her tight red corset dress, with a richly laced skirt and neckline, was hiding that she had put on the tiniest bit of weight. A lot of bright powder was covering her paleness. The firm buns that she had twisted her brunette hair into also prevented people from making it out on first sight that her cheeks had become fuller. When she was chuckling the way she did right now, one could almost think, everything was alright.
When the dress was finally in place, she bound Arwen's hair in a simple way that wouldn't hinder the coronation later, then regarded her work in the mirror with satisfaction. "Perfect. Stop driving yourself mad. By now, people have really come to like you. They're accepting you; that is all you can expect. The realm leadership is not in your hands."
"No, but I will represent this realm from now on, and for the rest of my life no less. As a member of a folk that many men do still reject. So much can happen, especially today … The soldiers can't be everywhere in the city at once. Besides … Who knows for how long people will be happy about our relationship?"
Fortunately, Tarisilya wasn't someone who needed explaining first about what Arwen meant. The worry upsetting her since suffering her war injury got worse by the day. Not even Aragorn's company could help with that; he'd been too absent-minded recently, because there was so much on his own mind, even when they were being alone with the chaperone always waiting discreetly in the background.
When tears started to burn in her eyes, she wiped them away, unnerved. She had only just got that under control, being far more emotionally vulnerable than it was proper for a Firstborn. "I wish I would have found time to visit ada once more, to make sure what will become of this matter. Aragorn and I had never doubts about our feelings for each other, but that won't count for the people if we can possibly never …" Pausing, Arwen reached for a comb from the dresser and started to use it on a single strand, again and again.
"What people think can't be of any concern for your love, Arwen. And nothing is certain yet; I've told you more than once. Chances are still good that you can conceive the usual way. If you can't, that will be difficult for you two, but there will be a solution. I haven't run out of ideas regarding a treatment yet. Aragorn won't rest either, not a day, until things will be alright. Until then, you have to be strong." Tarisilya stopped her hand lovingly.
"No one knows better than me that love does not only come with joy but with pain as well. I've been lucky that I, as well, never had to fear that my husband's feelings for me weren't real, not a moment since we first met. Every moment that we spend together, he treats me with unconditional love. Instead, I've been paying the price of loneliness for a millennium now, and of never being able to know for sure if this will ever change. Until someday, the two of us will make our way to the west, there will always be something more important to Legolas than living a life in peace with me; by now I'm sure about that regardless of his promises. You, however, have a husband who will take care of you whenever his time permits. Aragorn wouldn't marry you if he didn't believe with all of his heart that you can be very happy with you, in spite of everything. That's what you just have to hold on to right now."
"Lady Arwen?" Éowyn's deep voice, sounding very impatient as it so often did, interrupted the conversation. It seemed, even the last guests had arrived now. "Are you decent?"
"Come in, please." Arwen put the comb aside and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again with a deep exhale, she looked sufficiently calm again on the outside. On the inside, she was still upset, but she had already had to learn early in her life to keep her composure and smile, even in the presence of a woman that she'd had a few bad arguments with before.
"Forgive the disturbance." Éowyn nodded at Tarisilya respectfully before directing her attention to Arwen.
"A truly wonderful dress. I'm sure Aragorn will be happy." Only if you listened very closely, you could hear a hint of bitterness in her voice.
"People have been asking for you, milady. They would like to give you the first couple of presents and to congratulate you. Faramir has already been entertaining them for almost an hour. I don't mean to offend you but it is not becoming to make the folk wait on such a day."
"They should not have to me then that I'm only expected to show up at the gate shortly before sundown." In Arwen's opinion, Éowyn was sounding almost a little petty about having a legitimate reason to reprimand her this time. "As far as I know, the King has not seen the guests yet either. Actually, my plan was to welcome them together with my betrothed."
Her reflection in the mirror raised an eyebrow at Éowyn. "As you can see, I'm not entirely prepared yet. Thank your husband from me. Please tell him that I'll be with you soon."
"Come on, let's give Her Majesty another few minutes to breathe. The day will be long enough for her." Tarisilya, fortunately, broke the fight up quickly and led Éowyn outside.
Making her way outside, Tarisilya waited only until Éowyn and she had reached a completely empty hall, before stopping abruptly. "You should have found an excuse to stay at home today. You're only making your own heart sick. Do not vent that on someone who's not responsible for your disappointed hopes. That's beneath you."
She was only trying to help the Rohiril that – after their first initial difficulties – she'd actually got to know as someone caring very deeply about her folk, as a proud war hero by the side of the beloved Steward, and that she'd only rarely had any problems with anymore. But the anger filling Éowyn's storm blue eyes immediately revealed that this matter, that, admittedly, Tarisilya had learned about mostly from rumors, was an even bigger sore spot for the other woman than she'd assumed so far. Especially today, it was really hard to ignore that unlike most of the gossip at the court, this one contained a grain of truth.
"Whatever Aragorn might have told you at the campfire on your journey west, there are no feelings of disappointment between him and me."
"For His Majesty's part, that's true," Tarisilya replied impassively. "He has gone through a lot and fought very hard to get to this day. You were not an obstacle in that path, as much as that might pain you. Don't become one. It's not only his happiness that you're threatening but your own as well."
"You need to watch your tongue, Princess." With her hands on her hips, Éowyn stepped closer to her. "You seem to forget whom you're dealing with."
"Given your improper behavior, that is indeed a possibility." Just in time, Tarisilya, fortunately, remembered that she had to take it easy on her mind and didn't let herself be irritated.
"I'm not talking about this to you to hurt you. I want to keep you from harm. You and the Queen who has gone through just as much suffering and fear as you and deserves a day of undimmed joy."
"Yes, I have gone through a lot." Before she could lose even more control, Éowyn turned away and braced herself on the ledge of a big round window. Her shoulders that looked more fragile than they'd used to, tightened under her dress, the fabric of which was conspicuously dark for the occasion.
"My parents left me early, and I lost my uncle in the war. I have seen more blood in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields than some Firstborn in their whole life. My brother lives far from here and doesn't even deem it necessary to arrive early for a celebration like this so that we have a few days to ourselves. What makes you think, in all this, there's still room for hurt pride from of a ridiculous crush? Do you think Men to be dishonorable? That I married my husband because of his status? Or so that I can be closer to the King and become a better obstacle, as you called it so charmingly?"
Her hands turned to fists but relaxed again when Tarisilya put her hands lightly on her shoulders and a little bit of her own serenity seemed to pass to Éowyn. "I'm sorry."
"You're the only one who seems to seriously think about things like that." Tarisilya squeezed her shoulders for a moment and let go then. "You're doubting yourself more than anyone else does, at least in public. What people think in secret, including me, is their own problem. It only counts what you are feeling in your heart. And as long as it is filled with anger towards yourself, but especially towards the King and the people around him, because he manages to be happy, you can't live in Gondor in peace."
"Where am I supposed to go? Faramir needs me. I won't just run away." The defiance came back already although Éowyn seemed to understand what she'd been told. She just didn't know how to change anything.
"Just like the King, the Steward is busy with reconstruction and the fight against the realm's enemies. Right now, the women by their side can't help much with that."
Tarisilya nodded at Faramir who was immersed in a conversation with Lord Elrond and Prince Imrahil in the courtyard. "First and foremost, he cares about you being happy. He'll understand. If you are missing your brother so much, a visit to your home should finally be able to rid your mind of the fleeting sadness of a life that you couldn't have."
"Maybe." Éowyn's eyes grazed over her husband's tall shape for a moment, over his posture, so much more self-confident than it had used to be, his elegant appearance in his usual black Steward robe, with his slightly wild strawberry blonde hair properly tied back. It was an expression of affection, appreciation, and of warmth on her face. For the moment, that would have to do.
"I will still attend the wedding though. As you say: People, fortunately, do not confront me with possible rumors about Aragorn and me in public. I want it to stay that way."
"Then you should change two things before you go out there." Tarisilya was suddenly in a great hurry to carry on. She had spotted a person with the same sand blond curls like Éowyn in the crowd, someone that, ironically, for the last few days she had also been wistfully waiting for.
"And what would that be?"
"Change your clothes." Tarisilya took a look back at Éowyn's dress that was quite low-cut on top of everything, that spoke volumes. "At the court, the etiquette is being taken very seriously as you should know. And get used to addressing His Majesty with his title when you're public. The war is over; now people are caring about keeping some distance again."
Tarisilya didn't wait for a reaction but hurried on, not stopping until she was standing in front of Éomer who had finally arrived at the festivities together with a small court. "Your Majesty, it's been too long."
"She's fine," Éomer smirked instead of a greeting, knowing exactly what was on Tarisilya's mind. "I would have brought her, but she's still quite exhausted. Suddenly being responsible for another life takes a toll on horses even as robust as yours, Princess."
"She's had the foal?" Without thinking about the people around them, Tarisilya grabbed his upper arms but quickly backed away, blushing, when she realized how improper that was, even for a good friend. And here she'd just lectured Éowyn about respecting the etiquette. "Forgive me."
"Don't worry about it. And yes, that is the reason I'm late," Éomer laughed gleefully. "First, I thought, I'd have to leave her alone, but apparently, she noticed that I was in a hurry and laid down earlier than expected to give birth. A healthy foal, jet black like its mother. I don't know how my realm can thank you for this gift, Ilya. I'm looking forward to the day when you can see it for the first time."
"I wish I could ride to Rohan immediately." Tarisilya was suddenly missing her loyal Mearh-mare more than ever that she'd never been parted from for such a long time before.
"But I'm afraid, not only would the royal couple object to that but especially my husband, given my own current condition. We're expecting again." She rested a slightly agitated hand on her belly. Actually, she should be radiant right now, given that she had finally brought herself to reveal her pregnancy to anyone. Given the way, Éomer had supported her during her stay in Rohan after her miscarriage, there was no one who deserved it more than him to learn about this. But her eyes remained serious, full of grief that she could immediately see glistening in the King's dark eyes as well.
"I am so happy for you." He grabbed her shoulder firmly. "You don't even know how much. If your husband didn't lock you up in your chambers this whole year, I would personally have to strike him with my sword. This time, everything will be alright, I'm sure."
"I'm very glad you're here, Your Majesty." Tarisilya stepped aside so that Éomer could greet the others as well. And also so that she wouldn't have to deal with his compassionate expression anymore that awoke more and more memories of this one day of terror back then.
She hoped that Aragorn wouldn't need half as long as his future wife to get ready for the wedding. She wanted this day to end quickly that reminded her so painfully of everything that she couldn't have right now. The prospect of boring conversation with court ladies suddenly seemed unbearable to her.
Especially since her fine ears could already pick up whispers about her condition. The words that had actually been meant only for Éomer, had apparently been witnessed by others as well. That people were fantasizing about Tarisilya having flings with all kinds of members of the court, and now with the King of Rohan as well, was nothing new, of course. Usually, Legolas and her could both laugh heartily about that. Both of them had lived in royal circles long enough to know what to think about things like that.
It wasn't any different at elvish courts. Until Tarisilya's two hundredth begetting day, everyone in Caras Galadhon had been firmly convinced she would be marrying Haldir soon. Then they'd finally understood that Haldir had always been far more interested in her brother and that the two of them had just felt far too obliged to their lives as marchwardens to think about such things, which had not changed in all of their life on Middle-earth. Talk like that was best ignored.
But the unwanted spreading of news as important as her pregnancy right now, she had only brought upon herself. How could she have been so careless? It was about time to finally send that message to Cair Andros that her carrier pigeon should already have had delivered days ago.
She left the celebration yard inconspicuously to find some silence in the gardens behind the White Tower. As the King and his future wife did already have the muse to be late, no one would miss an elven Princess either that people were rather avoiding right now anyway.