The Lord of the Rings

A Rainy Day in Gondor

Author's note; This fic is one of many in which I intend to write regarding the Gondorian Royal family. Please take note of these characters as they will be used in some of my following works (or attempts – LOL!) Though my stories won't always be in chronological order, they will all involve the same timeline (unless stated otherwise). If I might base a future story on a later period of Aragorn's life, he will have these same children and may have had some more. This particular fic takes place around 10 years after the War of the Ring & King Elessar's coronation. Thank you to all who take the time to read, I really appreciate it! :-)

'A Rainy Day in Gondor' will have 2 chapters in all, and I dedicate this to 'RS' who left me my first & fab LOTR review with my first LOTR fic 'Between the Blankets'.

Chapter 1

The pellets of rain hitting against the window showed no sign of easing. It had been pouring over the land of Minas Tirith since the early morning, and as the day moved into mid-afternoon, the drops seemed to only become bigger. The elf glanced across the hills, clouded with the drizzle in the distance. Though the weather upset the day's original plans, the mystical view before her was a refreshing consolation. The white mist of the falling water reminded her of her former home in the woods of Rivendell. Arwen, for a moment, soaked the sounds she heard from outside as if it were haunting music. The bliss was short lived, however, as a young cry brought her pensive mind back into the nursery.

"Naneth, he's ruining our village with his soldiers! Tell him stop!" the little child pleaded in desperation, running to her mother and tugging her dangling delicate sleeve.

"Don't excite yourself darling….why don't you include your brother in your game?"

The Queen's compromise proved unpopular as she saw Sadriel's tiny bottom lip quiver, "But he's ruining it!" the little princess exclaimed, unable to say more with the threat of crying.

Of course, given no other choice, Arwen rose from the comfort of her seat by the narrow, long window to attend to the scattered array in the middle of the floor. Though the room itself was large, customly spacious for playful younglings, Arwen never ceased to be amazed with the vast space her children took up with their elaborate toys and games. Her daughter pointed to the culprit with her small, chubby hand, "Please stop him, Naneth!"

Eldarion was oblivious to his mother and sisters around him – he was far too busy with his wild horses galloping through the miniature houses along the winding paths his sisters had so carefully created all morning.

"Eldarion dear, stop along and play fair," Arwen gently warned. She was surprised it had actually taken so long before the children became restless with being indoors all morning. She had expected they would be a handful and as her trip to the city shelters was cancelled due to the rain, Arwen opted spend her day with the children as opposed to letting their nanny bare the brunt of their inevitable agitation. As the only boy, the young prince was usually the first to stir the pot. On more than one occasion had he disrupted the frivolous games of the girls, and rather than make her son feel unwelcome and unwanted, Arwen preferred a rather relaxed method to correct him.

It did not prove successful. After continuing to knock the amateur-made stables, Sadriel let out an alarmed squeak at her brother's destruction. "Eldarion!" Arwen repeated, this time adapting a more strict approach, "Eldarion please…." She may as well not have spoken as he then sent his largest chestnut horse to terrorise his eldest sisters assembly of dolls, eventually managing to tear a cloth arm of one of them. It was the last straw. Sadriel now cried freely and Elraen was now visibly upset. She too was now in need of her mother's assistance.

"Eldarion! Cease your unruly conduct and come forth this instant!" she sharply exclaimed, leaving no room for excuses in her tone. He lifted his head as if he had only just heard her for the first time and stared blankly at his mother. It was tempting to subdue to his innocent round face, but Arwen continued to gain her stern composure. "Come to me at once!"

The large room was now coldly silent, save for the echoing rain from outside and the sound of children's laboured sobbing. The young boy slowly picked himself up and cautiously stepped over the numerous toys which lay scattered in his path. He stopped at quite a distance from his mother, aware that he must have misbehaved in some way. He scratched his temple and clumsily wiped a stray strand of his honey long hair from his face as he stood still. Perhaps, he thought, the distance would lessen a scold.

As always, his mother knew better, "Over here….right beside me!" she ordered quietly, pointing a slender finger to the ground beside her whilst raising her definitive brows.

Eldarion limply proceeded towards her, sighing as an old man would. He must have been really bold. After finally reaching his destination, he hung his head and lifted his silver eyes to her. The tall lady looked quite grim as she stood stiff in a dark blue gown. His mother rarely folded her arms, but he noticed she now did so.

Arwen may have appeared to be somewhat cross, but her outward stance could not be further from the truth. Inside, she was between laughing and melting. As she met his large glistening eyes, a trait of his handsome father's, Arwen found it hard to be stern. Being her only boy, it often amused her to see her son confused when he upset his sisters. He knew no better and she could see his confusion time and time again. "My son, do you realise why I have summoned you to me?"

He did not know how to answer, as he was afraid it might be the wrong one. After searching, he remembered his father's advice given to him on various occasions, 'be always truthful.' "Nay, Naneth," he quietly replied, looking to his teary-eyed sisters apologetically. He mustered enough bravery to again meet his mother's face, and thankfully, she did not appear any more upset.

It was at times like this in which Arwen felt also sympathetic. He had never someone to play with in more boisterous games or indulge in his boyish nature. He couldn't fathom why his sisters didn't like to explore the new creatures he often found in soil whilst agreeing to help them with their gardening. He'd never understand why they never experimented with the contents of their dinner and there was no chance he'd ever see the practicality of wearing dresses. In many ways, he was alone amongst two sisters, and, as always, Arwen could never treat him too harshly.

"Eldarion, you have been disobedient. I grow weary of constantly asking you to be mindful of your sisters ways. Have we not discussed this?" she lightly lectured, "I can't keep repeating myself – you are five years old. When will you start behaving?"

There was another pause. "Tomorrow Naneth," he answered, believing his answer to be correct and what his mother wanted to hear.

It had never been harder for her to hold in a slight smile as she quickly glanced away from him. Only when Arwen was confident she could contain her straight face did she attempt to speak. "I would you start as of now, my darling. You have upset both Elraen and Sadriel once again. If you cannot play fair with your sisters, do not play at all with them…..You must apologise to both."

Still wary in his movements, the little boy moved toward his sisters. His head remained fixed on the ground as he spoke. "I apologise for my wild and bold behaviour. I shall not do it again," he said his older sister. "I apologise for my wild and bold behaviour. I shall not do it again," he repeated to his younger sister. Their only reply was their sniffles.

Arwen sighed wearily at his learnt-by-heart words. He was saying the exact same sentence nearly every day through the year. She placed her hand on his thin shoulder as she directed him, "Now, go to your own corner to your own toys and I will see to it that you stay there until I decide otherwise – agreed?"

"Yes Naneth," he sighed, letting his bare feet gently patter against the cold floor as he proceeded to his confinement.

Arwen now noticed this and called him yet again, "Young sir, what has become of your shoes?"

"Ummmm," he hummed as he scanned the room, completely brushing off any of his previous burdens. If either Princess got a telling off, they were silent for the day, whereas the prince preferred to simply forget about any clashes immediately. The lad was merely delighted he had just been given a scold as opposed to being sentenced to assist in the palace kitchens. "There they are!" Eldarion happily remarked as he waded through the scattered remains of the fallen village. Among the lot, he miraculously pulled out two small black slippers. Many of his soldiers spilled from the insides and, with the aid of string, attached horses to the front of them. "Many of my carriages have lost their wheels, so instead, my slippers are wonderful. I can fit ten soldiers into each, Naneth!" he exclaimed, proudly displaying his invention.

"I would you fit your feet back into them…I shan't warn you about walking barefoot again! And come – what of your trousers!" the Queen cried in disbelief as she noticed stray threads fraying from the bottom. The olive trousers were designed in ¾ length to fall over his knee, but even the canvas material was not strong enough to last the prince's daily adventures. And upon closer inspection, Arwen found his long white top to be stained. "Oh Eldarion, I think you've soiled your vest beyond the solution of washing!" she remarked, trying to figure how he had managed all this whilst staying indoors all day!

After changing her son's clothing and making him somewhat presentable, Arwen settled back into her chair by the window, occupying herself between supervising a playful Eldarion and sewing his trousers. He had returned to his world of horses and she smiled warmly as she listened to his game. She could gather that somewhere was under attack from 'extra-evil' orcs and it was quite endearing to hear him imagine his father, or as her son was referring to him, 'the bravest King in Middle Earth', leading an army in defence. If she knew no better, Arwen would have sworn his battle was that of Helm's Deep - only enhanced with horses. She shook her head and mentally noted to have words with her beloved husband for telling such stories to their son. There was little wonder of Eldarion's imaginative, masculine nature.

Arwen continued to work in peace until a little toddler silently made her way to the window, carrying a small one-armed ragdoll in one hand and when she opened her stubby small fingers, it was revealed she carried a severed cloth arm in the other. "Eldarion tore my Bell-Bell, Nana….," she said, still shaking after her sobs. Her large round eyes were red with the stain of tears.

Her mother looked at her with pity, "My darling, it is easily repaired. I shall see to it straight after I attend to your brother's trousers." She left her sewing to one side as gently took the contents from Sadriel's hands and embraced her daughter tightly, kissing her button nose as she lifted her onto her lap, "I'm afraid he doesn't understand us ladies are not as rough as boys are. And in turn, my dear, we must understand they are rougher than us…. you will learn as you grow older."

"Naneth, why are there boys and why are there girls? Why isn't there anything else?" the little girl innocently asked, laying limply on her mother's shoulder, enjoying the soothing touch of a placate hand trailing along her back.

"Well…" Arwen pondered in amusement, unsure of what answer to supply. Sadriel was definitely the most curious of the children, and her numerous, sometimes wise, questions often kept her parents and the Palace entertained. "Your father and I are very different. So too are you and Eldarion….do you notice he is much stronger than you? And he can be quite noisy at times and you cannot make sense of his daft ways."

"But why isn't Ada silly like that?"

"Oh, people don't see it, but your father is often more senseless than any man! But, it's simply nature – that is the way of boys. And, just like other boys, Eldarion likes playing with soldiers, carving with wood and loves to dig and explore…." Arwen rested her face upon her daughter's soft hazel curls. Her voice became a little more private and animated, "If we never had boys, who would we have to do such tasks? Girls don't like to get muddy….do you?"

"Noo!" Sadriel exclaimed, wrinkling her face in horror and hiding her smile. Naneth always made her feel better and she now felt a little more enlightened on the matter. Silly Eldarion couldn't help being so bold and rough…after all, he was a boy. The child decided she preferred his different ways as opposed to seeing him in a dress and playing picnic with her and Elraen.

Her older sister's call came across the room at that moment, asking for Sadriel to accompany her in some painting.

The Queen easily let her slide from her lap to the floor, "If I am to mend Bell-Bell today, I must get to work with little more delay. In the meantime, might I suggest you paint a picture for your father – you can give it to him when we meet him at dinner."

An eager Sadriel didn't object. She adored any chance of special attention from the King.

"Now, take these aprons over to your sister and don't ruin your dresses….I don't want to discard of any more clothes today," She warned, sighing to only herself by the end as the girls wasted no time in laying on the floor, blissfully decorating the paper to their hearts content.

As the day progressed into the late afternoon, the Queen found it seemed more like dusk was upon them. The sky was still a heavy hue of purple and grey and the rain remained relentlessly pouring down onto the land below. As she had just completed stitching the end of her son's trousers, the nursery door creaked open to reveal the surprise of a very rugged, wet and handsome visitor.