I don't own it, and if I did, my last name would be Tolkien, not Gray. Enough said.
"The castle at Fornost is a grand place, though not as big, per se, as Minas Tirith. Carpenters, stonemasons, architects-they've all been dispatched to make the place livable again, as no one has formally inhabited the palace since the days of Arnor of old." Aragorn looked out the window for a moment, a light of triumph in his eyes.
"I wish Fornost to be the White city of the North, a city of light, and beauty and music, as it was when the kings of old first built it-I wish to rebuild a city for the ages...Oh come now, Boromir, don't look so glum. If it's me you want to see, then you shall have to look forward to the royal progress. Then you'll have to put up with my entire household for a month, at least." Aragorn was looking at some carefully drawn plans for city rebuilding with Boromir. Well, truth be told, the King was reading the plans and the Steward was pacing.
"Yes, I know. It's not I'm going to miss the city...I saw my father nearly burn to death here, for heaven's sakes, and there are too many evil memories in these walls for me to count, or even recall. Happy ones, too, but...all the same, it is still dark and desolate. When Rhoswen visits with my messages, I hope to hear about small children's voices in the corridors. It has been too long since there were children in these halls." Aragorn looked up from his plans and laughed.
"So you're going to use your wife as a message carrier?"
"No...it is only that she will miss the city more than I, and will come back to visit her godchildren, and nieces and nephews, and talk with her sisters, as women are wont. I shall only ask that when she does, she bring news and royal correspondence to and from the tower of the sun." Boromir stopped looking out the window, and looked at his king.
"Aragorn, does my conduct displease you in some way? Is there some wrong for which I should bear penance? Why do you exile me to the Northland?"
"It is not exile, and I am loath to let you leave. Haradrim revolts grow more constant in the south, and the Dunlenders to the east grow restless with peace treaty talks. A second war is brewing, and the gods in heaven know I could use you, but there is not enough land in Gondor for three princes-for, good friend, you are a prince to me, and always have been- and the Dunedain need a good leader. They will only follow some one I have chosen, a man for my brother, a man for my friend, in confidence and high in my favor, and you are the man. I want you not far from my eyes...but, I have eyes enough." Aragorn set the plans aside, and turned to place his hands on Boromir's slightly slumped shoulders. The younger man looked into his eyes at the touch.
"The palantir at Fornost was lost for some time, but it is untainted, and with it, you may call upon me, for news or summons. Boromir, you still have six months, and I have it on good authority from your wife that your firstborn will come into the world in that short space of time."
"Why am I the last to know these things? Rhoswen will tell the king, but not her husband?" Aragorn chuckled at the frazzled Steward.
"She never has time. When you drop into bed, you're too tired to even talk to her."
"Time? She had time enough to inform you, and you are always in council-"
Aragorn cut him off. "-With you, and if it please you, she told Arwen." Both men shook their heads.
"Women. How is it I could not see my wife is so near her time?" Boromir mused quietly.
"Come, Steward of Arnor, the council reconvenes from midday meal, and we must be there. The Haradric ambassador will be presenting his case."
Unlike the rest of the city, scorching in the midday mugginess of high summer, the council chamber in the heart of the city, deep within stone walls, was cold and silent as council members filed back in, taking their seats around the wooden table. The table had been a gift from the Shirefolk, who had built it with traditional loving hobbit care on the behest of Pippin, the new Thain. The table could seat fifteen, and not a space was left unfilled. Aragorn kept the head of the large table, with Boromir and Faramir on either side. By their sides were Éowyn, and Rhoswen, each with the excuse that if one wanted to ride off to war, one had to leave one's wife in charge, and wouldn't it be appropriate if she actually knew what she was doing?
When the ambassador entered, and sat down, the rest of the council members sat a little easier in their seats. It was not noted that Rhoswen drew out a sheet of parchment, and poised her quill over it, ready to take observations.
"Welcome to Gondor, ambassador Agrad. We of Minas Tirith are glad of your coming."
"It is an honor to meet the newly crowned king, sire." The dark skinned ambassador bowed slightly, fingering the embroidery on the edge of his sleeve. Rhoswen could see he was nervous to be in the presence of the King, whose deeds and mastery of the forces of Mordor were quickly becoming song, and the twain sons of the steward, famed already in the south for their quests as well. It was enough history in the making to overwhelm any man.
"We are here to discuss an agreement between the tribes of the Haradrim and Gondor dealing with the present state of affairs with Mordor."
"Ahh yes. My chieftain sends his regrets that he cannot be here himself. May I see the offer?" Aragorn's clerk passed him a sheaf of papers, which he made the appearance of casually flicking through, his expression grave. When he spoke, his voice was strained.
"I regret, sire, to say that this would nearly be impossible. My tribe has not nearly this much wealth, and our recent battles have left us short handed."
Boromir looked the shifty man in the eyes, drawing up his full six feet.
"And what of the military garrisons? Can those outposts be established?"
The ambassador nodded; he was visibly shaking slightly.
"Trade contracts must be negotiated." Faramir put in.
"We are a simple people, my lord king. We care for watering rights...there is nothing of value for Gondor in Harad..." Éowyn looked across the table at him.
"Horses. Harad has some of the finest stock in fast mounts. It is said that your mares are the daughters of the wind, with speed to match the Mearas-We require horses." The ambassador looked at Éowyn. His shaking smile vanished, replaced with a stony sneer.
"I beg permission to leave." Aragorn stood, a frown on his normally impassive face.
"Ambassador, may I inquire as to the occasion?"
"In my country, it is a grievous offence to let women bare their faces in public, or participate in matters of state. I find it insulting that you let not only one woman here, but two. I realize that it is not your custom to have them cover their faces, but it is an offense, all the same." Boromir clenched a fist around his goblet stem; Rhoswen carefully pried the hand away and set the glass down, holding his large hand in both of her own.
"You could have spoken of it earlier." Aragorn's voice was fighting to be level.
"In my country, concubines of the chieftain may sit in the presence of a council, but are not permitted to speak. Women are weak; they bear our sons and daughters, and that is their purpose. They demand nothing!" Éowyn was about to stand, Faramir's hand holding her arm quite tightly to the table. The ambassador said something in a dangerously low voice, and left in a billow of embroidery. Éowyn was seething, breathing rather loudly through her nose.
"What did he call me?" Her voice was clipped and curt, indicating all too well to Faramir that she was ready to kill the Ambassador.
"He said that the mare should have been whipped." Faramir said in a low cautious voice, treading on thin ice with his wife.
"Rohirrim though I am, I refuse to be referred to as a horse!" Faramir whispered in her ear, and she seemed to calm down enough for him to peck her hair. Aragorn took a breath, and looked at Rhoswen, and then at Éowyn.
"You know what I must ask you to do."
"Yes, and though I do not relish it, it is my duty. Come, sister. I think a brisk ride would do us both some good." Rhoswen squeezed Boromir's hand, and left in tow of a still sulking Éowyn.
Out on the Pelennor, Éowyn and Rhoswen had a talk, stepping off their horses to walk for a bit. The sounds of the busy city, along with those of various builders repairing the broken walls of the citadel still reached them out here.
"It is good to see the restoration of the city coming along so well."
"You did not bring me out here to talk about the city's rebuilding, did you?"
"No...I brought you out here with the express purpose of talking about nothing." The two stood for a minute in silence, the only sound the muffled hammering and the whispers of the wind.
"You know I am no lady, Rhos. I cannot stand by and let myself be insulted."
"I do not ask it of you."
"What do you ask of me?" Éowyn looked at her sister in law, turning to the woman with a sharp turn of her heel.
"I ask for your help when my baby comes, as my sister and my friend. But if your patience is not with you, I will be happy to-"
"Rhos, I would not miss the birth of my first nephew-" Éowyn told her sister in law, her voice reassuring.
"Or niece, I know not whether it be a boy or girl." The younger woman looked at the shield maid with an amending eye.
"Or niece." Éowyn corrected herself. She looked at Rhoswen, two years younger and married to a man twenty years her senior. "How do you do it?"
"How do I do what, Éowyn?"
Eowyn stopped herself and changed her question.
"Stand being married to the most pigheaded man on the face of the earth? And then bear his children!" Rhoswen laughed, and Éowyn laughed with her- Boromir wasn't pigheaded, and both of them knew it-Éowyn had meant it in jest.
"Ahh, well, I can be as pig headed as him, but he's gotten better now that I'm carrying the next of his line." She patted her stomach. "But I do wish I could tell if it is a boy or a girl..."
Arwen knocked on the door to Rhoswen's solar and walked in to giggles as Éowyn watched a string with Rhoswen's wedding ring tied to the end dangle over Rhos' full, stretched stomach.
"What is going on in here?" The queen of Gondor and Arnor inquired.
"We are attempting to discern whether the child Rhoswen carries is a male or a female." Éowyn said with a degree of comic pompousness. Rhoswen laughed, and Arwen, looking at the rounded woman lying on her bed with her wedding ring dangling above her unborn child had to concede that it was indeed comical.
"So what has the ring to do with anything?"
"Oh well, if it spins, it's a boy, and if it swings, it's a girl...and the string doesn't seem to want to make up it's mind." Éowyn stated matter-of- factly. Rhoswen was watching the string when she suddenly let out an exited 'Ooh!' The two women turned to look at Rhoswen, who put a hand to her swollen belly.
"Be they boy or girl, this child can kick! Here, Arwen...put your hand just there." She laid the queen's hand on her stomach, and ever so gently, the Queen felt a push on her hand. She looked at the womb, amazed.
"Never in all my years have I felt so close to life." Arwen held out a hand as Rhoswen got up off her bed, putting a hand hastily to her back.
"Ahh, well, you'll feel a lot closer when you find you've got the next prince of Gondor growing inside you. Carry a child for nine months and it'll do something to you." She made to sit down in her favorite chair. "Ohh, my back. Éowyn, could you be a dear and get me a-" She hadn't even finished her sentence when Éowyn handed her a pillow, which she laid behind her back. "-Pillow. You are a dear."
"No, I'm remembering that every time you sit down in a chair, you ask for a cushion-more specifically, that particular cushion."
"Well, this pillow's been well broken in. And pregnant women are picky. I expect the kitchens are fed up with me asking for broth made from herbs that grow only in Anfalas."
"It is said that the lady Finduilas couldn't eat anything without first smelling it when she was pregnant with Aerwyn. Or so Faramir remembers." Éowyn said, smiling.
"Speaking of the lady Aerwyn, where is she? I crave a word with her." Rhoswen made to get up, but both women put a hand on her arms, and she sat back down.
"I shall find her. If she be not swinging a sword with the Rangers down in the yards, she's probably in her room again." Éowyn got up and left, closing the door quietly behind her-Rhoswen's hearing had become a bit sharper in the past few months.
Several minutes later, Aerwyn and Éowyn crept back in to Rhoswen's solar, where the young woman was waiting expectantly, her hands folded over her enlarged abdomen.
"Arwen, Aerwyn, I've already asked Éowyn to help with the birth of my firstborn, and I'd like both of you to be there as well. It would mean a great deal to me, as I have no sisters. Will you do me this honor?" Rhoswen gazed at the faces of her sister in law and queen. Aerwyn spoke first.
"Rhoswen, I would not miss the birth of my first nephew and my brother's firstborn for all the gold in Gondor. Life is too precious to let it go unattended, and I would never forgive myself for not being there when you needed my help most."
"Nor I. You have been a most endearing friend, Rhoswen, throughout my small stay here, and I would not miss your firstborn for the world. He-or she, will be the next in line for the throne after Boromir, and after the children I hope to have someday."
"Please, don't burden my child with important things he or she will have to live out someday. My back aches already with this little life."
As the knocking on the door grew more and more impatient, Éowyn flew from her bed to open it, knowing exactly why and who was knocking at an odd hour of the night.
The page at the door was out of breath, having run from the other end of the wing to the Steward's chambers.
"Lady ...Rhoswen...has gone into labor and requests your presence...immediately." The young man gasped for breath as Éowyn processed this.
"Tell the lady Rhoswen I'll be with her as soon as I may." The page scampered off down the hall.
Faramir, getting up to see why his wife was standing at the door, quickly lit a candle so his wife could change out of her nightgown and into something a little more appropriate for a birth. Éowyn, still tying up her dress's strings, pecked her husband on the cheek and flew down the hall. Stopping at the doors to Rhoswen's chambers, she finished tying her dress and steeled herself for a long night.
"So it begins..."
HAHAH! A cliffhanger at the worst spot it could possibly be! I am evil, aren't I? But I'll bet that I answered the question every one was dieing to know about after those doors closed. cheeky grin If you wanted the morning after, read 'But in Dreams'
Shout outs-
DJ Sparkles- YAY! You read the rest of it! Aww...thank you. It's the little tiny corner of Mercury that goes into every one of them that makes them real.
Dread Lady Freya- Can't compete with Angoliel's last shout out...I'm sorry! breaks down in tears Yes, it definitely would be due to previous experiences with rings-one in particular comes to mind, involving lots of arrows and a brush with death...Anywhay. Song was not mine. It's a spiritual.
I have a question.
Why is it that you fear Angoliel more than you do me, The Reverend Mother? As you may recall, Humble one, it is I who gave Angoliel her courage to give you such words as she does. Remember this.
Orli's Babe- Ehh... Boromir babes, all the way. You really should consider changing your name. It's obvious to us of the Boromir fangirl elitist movement that you really want to join! Smiles