AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow!! Talk about writer's block!!! It's difficult to write when school sucks out all of the brain energy :D. I feel terrible for making you all wait this long, so I hope you all enjoy this ch. PrincessIce: Thank you very much!! You must have read a looong time :). It is good to have another reader such as yourself along. Everyone enjoy ch. 31!!

Aragorn and Arwen had named their son Eldarion in honour of those who had faded from Middle-earth. He had eyes of shining grey and hair—the little he had—of dark shadows upon his small head. When he was birthed, he did not cry out but gazed about the room with open eyes seeking knowledge. He still had not made much sound even now.

Arwen lay in bed with young Eldarion close in her arms. Aragorn knelt at the bedside at his son's height watching him with a gentle intensity Arwen thought beautiful.

"It is all dreamlike," he said stroking the babe's silken hair with loving fingers. "A new life has begun for us all."

Arwen kissed the child's pale brow with flushed lips and smiled at her beloved. She met his gaze and they needed not words to speak. By his birth, Eldarion had kindled a deeper fire within their hearts and tied even mightier bonds between them.

"He shall learn the ways of both the Elves and of Men," Arwen murmured. "The ancient customs of each he shall know as his own and uphold the memory of those who have crossed over the Sea into the West."

"For them he was named," said Aragorn, "and for them he shall live." He lifted a hand over the child's brow and gently brushed it with his fingers in a silent blessing.

Many tidings of blessings and best wishes arrived in Minas Tirith for the new son that had been born at the ending of winter. Aragorn hastened through his duties—quickly but efficiently—so that more time was had of the day with Eldarion and his beautiful mother.

Eldarion continued to grow into a healthy young child of the age of two as he was raised by the two greatest and most renowned living at that time in Middle-earth. Already they were imparting upon him an elven-wisdom and sound mind. He spoke or shouted less than other youths of the city and watched all about him with discerning, large grey eyes that gleamed with concentration not often seen in one so young. But his energy was abounding as he leaped about in childish play or rushed to climb trees in the courtyards of the Citadel. His eagerness was catching.

Legolas and Gimli arrived one day after meeting in Gondor to journey to the City of Kings once they decided to see this son of Aragorn's. Neither was wed nor had sons or daughters. Aragorn heard long ago of their approach and rushed out to the Court of the Fountain to meet them.

"Legolas! Gimli! Glad am I to see you again!" he cried in his rich, clear voice untainted by time.

They allowed their horses to be led away to the stables and came to where Aragorn had stopped nearby. Legolas' fair elven-face gleamed with a brilliant smile of joy and Gimli's grin could be seen amidst the dark hair of his beard. They all clasped shoulders and hands and stood silent for a moment in deep remembrance.

"The Three Hunters reunited once again," Aragorn said quietly at last.

"And at a good time too!" said Gimli.

"We heard of Eldarion, your son, my friend, by your message. Has he the looks of his father...or mother?" asked Legolas.

Aragorn grinned. "Both, my dear friends, for his eyes are alike to Arwen's but his face alike to my own at that age. He shall be a fair, mighty youth once he has grown. I am already proud," he said.

Suddenly a small figure came rushing like a wind out of the North bursting out of the Tower of Ecthelion, over the grass, and towards Aragorn.

"1. Atar!" the young boy cried as he leapt into his father's strong arms. "Atar, I looked for you! I found you!"

Aragorn laughed and lifted him high into the air. "And why have you looked for me, my son?"

Eldarion's small mouth opened to speak, yet his eyes were averted by the intriguing sight of the slender Elf and stout Dwarf. He thought for a moment silently.

"Greetings Eldarion," said Legolas bowing slightly. His blue eyes flashed with interest as well.

"You are Legolas the Elf?"

"Indeed I am, young one."

"And you are Gimli the Dwarf?"

Gimli's chuckle was rich and rumbling. "That I am, lad! He's a bright one, Aragorn, no doubt of that."

Eldarion grinned and looked into his father's eyes. "I dreamed them last night."

"You dreamt of them?" Aragorn asked and corrected softly.

"Yes, of them. They were here like now."

Aragorn nodded and shifted him in his arms. He glanced at his two friends who had become intent. There was a long silence until Eldarion shattered it with a heavy sigh.

"Can I go now, Atar?"

"Of course, 2. yondo. Go on..." He set the young one on the ground, and he sped off past them to the Tower where he often ran about imagining grand battles or fair elven-lands. Aragorn's eyes followed him even when he passed inside.

"It is already evident he has the gift of foresight," Legolas murmured.

"Perhaps it was only a dream for we speak often of you both," said Aragorn returning his gaze to the two guests. "I was told of your coming three days ago, so he must have heard the word as well."

"You know that is not true with this instance. You saw the look of his eyes when he mentioned it," said the Elf.

Aragorn lowered his head. "I am denying it with my own tongue. It still seems...strange. He has the gifts of both our lines. He shall be a mighty young man when he has grown."

"It's to be expected with two such parents as he has," said Gimli stroking his beard. Streaks of silvery-grey mingled with his dark hair. "I always wondered what such children you and the fair Evenstar would bear."

"Thank you, my friend. He is a fine lad. A fine lad indeed."

Two more years passed in fair Gondor. It was filled with mighty trees, emerald grass, and glistening stone of the cities. The people rejoiced each morning they awoke to find another day of peace and prosperity in a land touched by troubles no longer.

Arwen could find neither Aragorn nor Eldarion one day until she heard her beloved's voice like a fragrant, warm wind wafting down the corridor she was passing through. She halted before a door where his voice drifted through and saw Aragorn with Eldarion on his knee. Their son was now four years of age and learning swiftly.

"...and in response you would say?" Aragorn was continuing the lessons if elvish he and Arwen had taught Eldarion since he learned to speak. He was already able to speak it with little trouble though not quite fluently.

Before he answered, Eldarion saw his mother and leapt from his father's lap to rush into her welcoming arms.

"3. Amil! The stars shine in your eyes like diamonds. I forgot how to say it in elvish..."

Arwen laughed and touched his nose. "Your father has taught you well." She glanced over to him, where he still sat, and smiled.

He grinned and rose to his feet slowly. "Our lessons are well enough for today," he said. "You are doing quite well, my son."

"Thank you, atar," Eldarion smiled. He laid his head against Arwen's shoulder and wrapped his arms about her throat. "Yet I can never tire of them for I dearly love the language. The Elves must be a beautiful folk to have such a beautiful language."

"Indeed they are," said Aragorn meeting Arwen's gaze.

"Someday you shall meet them when they come here to Minas Tirith," said Arwen. "It will not be long from now even."

"And he leapt upon his horse and rode even unto death, not heeding the danger about him. His eyes burned with passion unsurpassed as he faced the shadow straight on. None could have stopped him that dark day for he knew his purpose and what he must do."

Eldarion's eyes held riveted upon his mother's face as she recounted again the tale of his father he had heard many times before and each he listened to with the same incredible intrigue. His fists were tight against his legs where he sat upright upon his mother and father's bed in their private quarters. Arwen lounged beside him in shining garments of white, dark hair falling in soft waves about her face and on the bed. She smiled as she resumed the tale and told of Aragorn's journey through the Paths of the Dead with the noble Dúnedain, the sons of Elrond, and Legolas and Gimli of the Fellowship of the Ring.

"There he stood at the dark Stone of Erech glistening in the shadows. The dead that followed after waited for his command for he was the Heir of Isildur of whom they had awaited for many long years of this earth." Her crystal elvish voice had entranced her son and thrown him into the tale as if he was watching from a distance, smelling the dank wind and hearing the rustling of the horses' hooves as they became nervous in the presence of those who were no longer living. He had hardly moved at all in the time she recounted the events as in the other instances she had spoken of it so clearly.

When Arwen came at last to the end where Aragorn was crowned King of Gondor, they wed, and the Ringbearer departed Middle-earth she realised the shadows had grown long outside upon the grass and the sun was fading into the West. She drew a deep breath and sat up on the bed.

"Will you tell me of Beren and Lúthien tomorrow, mother?" asked Eldarion.

"Nay, my son, you must wait awhile longer to hear that tale for there is much darkness within its depths and a deepness of thought you cannot yet understand." She ran her long, pale fingers through his glistening dark hair. "Night is coming. You must soon go to rest."

"But how can I now?" he cried standing on the bed. "There is so much to think of!"

Arwen smiled and sat him down before her. "So you can dream of the things you have now seen."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Where is father?"

"He is busy at the moment for he has duties that are important as a king."

Eldarion grinned. "He is the greatest king to have lived!"

"You and I believe it at least, yet we are, perhaps, somewhat influenced." She laughed quietly and kissed his brow. "Now go and ready for the night, Eldarion. Your father shall be here soon enough."

He kissed her in return and leaped from the bed to the floor in a rush to complete his task. Arwen smiled as she watched him speed out through the doors and down the hall.

After a few moments had passed, another entered the bed chamber. Arwen had changed into nightclothes and was lying on her side upon the bed thinking of the Tale of Beren and Lúthien of which Eldarion had inquired her to tell. It brought memories from the past into her mind that she had not recalled for many years.

Aragorn slid onto the bed enhancing those memories by his fresh, rich scent that faintly touched Arwen's nose. He sat beside her and drew away the hair from her face. She turned slightly so she could look up into his face and lifted a hand to his cheek.

He smiled and took her hand in his to kiss it. "How are you, my love?"

"Quite well," she whispered. "Eldarion was waiting for you."

"I know. He has been eager to be around of late. He often sits unnoticed in the Hall of Kings as I speak with guests or manage issues of the kingdom, yet I cannot acknowledge him when I am occupied as I am. It has been troubling me."

"He knows you cannot, and might even believe he is not seen even by you." Arwen drew closer to him. "I yearn to see him grow older for already I see great things springing up within him. I am proud of our son though he is still so young."

Aragorn nodded and kissed her brow. "You look weary, Undómiel. He wished for another tale tonight, did he not?" He smiled.

"Indeed! He never tires of hearing of the War of the Ring, yet...he asked to hear of Beren and Lúthien once again."

"Perhaps it is time he heard it in full," Aragorn murmured.

"Perhaps...He has a great yearning to know all he can be taught and wishes to know all I have to tell as he does with you."

Suddenly soft padding of feet could be heard racing toward the doorway. Aragorn smiled and turned his head as Eldarion came rushing into the bed chamber. His eyes brightened at the sight of his father and he leaped onto the bed at once.

"Father! There you are!"

Aragorn laughed as Eldarion jumped into him. "Well, what stories has your mother been telling you at this hour of the evening? You shall never sleep now!"

Eldarion laughed and snuggled into his father's broad chest with closed eyes. "She told me about you, atar. I want to do great things like you have and gain such wondrous renown."

"You shall have to wait do such things, my son, for you are not old enough yet. Just wait a bit longer."

"But it is so long from now," he murmured.

Arwen sat up once again and caressed his pale cheek. "Time flies past swifter than you realise now and soon you shall find yourself a grown man making your own decisions."

Eldarion's eyes grew large. "Really? It seems strange now..."

Arwen smiled. "Indeed it does."

The sun had fallen into the West as the sky darkened and the stars appeared out of the blue haze, sparkling like white gems thrown into the heavens by a great hand. The night was cool with a warm breeze softening the chill air and bearing upon its wings a sweet fragrance. Arwen pulled away the sheer drapes to allow the wind to drift in. She smiled when she turned and saw Eldarion growing weary at last in his father's gentle arms. Aragorn stroked his dark hair and gazed upon the young boy with eyes brimming with love and fatherly pride.

Arwen carefully returned to the bed and pulled back the blankets so that she could place them over her husband and son—as well as herself—before she lay beside them. Eldarion continued to attempt to remain waking, yet the steady rise and fall of Aragorn's chest with his light breathing soothed him into sleep. Both his mother and father watched him for a time longer until they also felt weariness come upon them as the sliver of moon gleamed high above the earth.

"Sleep well, fair Undómiel," Aragorn murmured as he placed Eldarion between them on the soft pallet. She bid him blessed sleep as well and closed her eyes. All three fell into tranquil sleep untouched by shadow or worry in a vision of love and beauty.

1. father

2. son

3. mother