AUTHOR'S NOTE: Since you all responded so desperately, I was inspired to write a bit more quickly :). I actually had no blocks here, so here you are! Bubble-Sheep & Valia-Elf: Do not worry! Eldarion's heart is certainly not going to be broken. That would be quite cruel of me! Satan's Advocate: Thank you :). I'm glad you're also reading my story. viviana: I am sure you will be very happy with the outcome. Thank you! lindahoyland: Your compliments are always so kind. I'm glad you are one of my regular reviewers :). Natulcien: Last but certainly not least! I was touched when I read that you got teary-eyed! I hope this chapter inspires such emotion as well, and, of course, I had to have a cliff-hanger. It's just an evil author thing to do ;). Everyone enjoy ch. 34!
Aragorn knew something was direly wrong as soon as they rode into the streets of Minas Tirith. He spurred his horse onward up into the depths of the great city without waiting to see if Arwen or Eldarion were close behind. A shadow had fallen over his heart, and he feared to see it again after so many years of its absence. Evil would never leave the earth even when its master was torn from it.
The horse's hooves clattered on the marble over the hum of the people in the streets. They watched in wonder as their King, Queen, and their noble son rode swiftly to the Citadel. It was usually a slow procession where King Elessar and Queen Evenstar would greet people on their way or watch as they passed, so heads came together in bewilderment.
Aragorn realised Eldarion was almost racing past him in his haste, and he glanced behind to find that Arwen was there as well. They reached the Court of the Fountain all at once and a young Guard of the Citadel came rushing towards them without sword or spear.
"My lord!" he called to Eldarion who was first to have his feet on the ground. "My lord, you must go quickly! She seems to be growing worse by the hour…by the moment." His eyes found Aragorn and a surge of relief rushed through him. "Perhaps she shall indeed be saved."
Aragorn and Arwen followed Eldarion to the Tower gleaming bright in the early day, yet there was a spiritual gloom hanging over that fair place. Eldarion's stride was long and brisk as he climbed steps and passed through halls to come to the wide corridor where all of their quarters stood.
"She is not in the Houses of Healing?" asked Aragorn quietly.
"No. I dared not move her and we were nearest my own chambers," said Eldarion. "I did not wish to do anything that might harm her any worse."
"Good. Let us see if she can be mended."
Aragorn's heart sank when the door was opened and he looked into the bed chambers where Vanimeldë had been placed upon the large bed. His step grew quicker and he flung back his cloak as he sat upon the bedside. He could not prevent the sigh that escaped his throat.
Vanimeldë, of golden hair and pale beauty like the sun at dawn, lay limp upon the linen sheets. Her long, silken hair was damp and her soft skin glistening with fevered sweat even in the cool of the day. Her eyes were closed fast, and she appeared as dead for her breast rose and fell hardly at all with gentle breaths. He felt her skin and knew that death was nearing; it was clammy and rising and falling in temperature.
Arwen looked around at the three maidens that stood in the room who could no longer help. "Leave us. This is no place for the well."
Eldarion was on the other side of the bed and clasped Vanimeldë's cold hand to massage the life back into her blanched skin. His eyes were grey pools of concern and desolation as they gazed upon the ill young maiden of his heart.
Arwen saw the despair of her son and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder where he knelt. "Do not fear for her, Eldarion. She is in good hands now."
"I tried to help her myself, yet…I have not the immensity of power father has in his healing hands. It only aided her a little by taking away a bit of the fever." He lowered his brow into the soft linens with his beloved's hand in his. He did not even think to ask if the illness could affect him if he touched her.
Aragorn felt Vanimeldë's brow with a gentle hand like a father with his child. She was so distant that he frowned and closed his eyes to delve deeper. There was only darkness and mist.
"Eldarion…you know that I carried with me athelas from the North some time ago and that little has been used since. Go to my chambers and find the pouch that I held it in. You will know where it is."
When he had gone, Arwen met Aragorn's gaze. "Is it still useful after these years? I recall my father always having some in his study, yet herbs of Men are not of my learning."
"Athelas holds its virtue longer than any other healing plant for it is the strongest of them. But I do not know. May the Valar help us." His half-silver hair glistened in the sunlight as he leant over the young maiden once again. "It will aid her at least in her laboured breathing."
He whispered softly words that even Arwen could not hear as he laid a hand on Vanimeldë's brow. Arwen closed her eyes and felt a soft wind upon her skin that smelt of green life and the salt of the Sea from the West. She opened them and saw that the windows were ajar; she had not realised it before.
Eldarion returned at once and handed the athelas plant to his father, who took up a bowl at the bedside with fresh water and crumbled the dried leaves into the gleaming depths. A cleansing, fresh scent wafted into the room, uplifting those four that were present. Aragorn soaked a white cloth in the concoction and bathed Vanimeldë's arms, throat, and face in the healing water. Soon after, her breathing grew normal again, yet the colour did not return to her face.
Aragorn sat upon the bed once again, grasped Vanimeldë's hands in his, and bent close to her ear. Words of power and healing were spoken then that cannot be uttered here. Vanimeldë was slowly being drawn away from darkness and from threatening dreams that drowned her in gloom as her fever was taken from her by the healing of the hands of the King little by little.
Time passed and, at last, King Elessar stood and looked wearily upon the maiden of his tending. Arwen and Eldarion sat beside one another waiting for his word, yet a faint smile began to appear on the Evenstar's face. Eldarion leaped to his feet and was instantly at Vanimeldë's side for Aragorn had also begun to smile.
"She will not wake for a day or two," said Aragorn. "This ordeal has wearied her body and mind. The fever has not completely left either, yet it shall not get worse or impair her any longer."
"What was it?" asked Eldarion. His fingers gently caressed Vanimeldë's pale brow as he brushed away her damp hair.
"I truly do not know. I have never treated anything so severe except…" He stopped abruptly and stared silently. "No…it is nothing so vile."
"What?" He turned his head to look to his father. "What were you going to say?"
"The Black Breath. Yet those who bore it in their path are now long dead, and it differed in numerous ways. This only brought memories of it that were unwanted. Rejoice now in the fact that Vanimeldë will live and that it will not be long before she heals. I must go now and rest."
Arwen saw that Aragorn truly was weary for his face was worn and his stance not so straight. The sun had begun to descend into the Sea after the hours they had spent waiting for him to aid the young woman. It had been a long process that had swiftly drained away his energy.
He turned away and left Eldarion and Arwen with Vanimeldë with a slower pace than he had entered.
Middle-earth was flourishing under the cover of its protector who kept it from war or wickedness. He resolved all conflicts that he touched upon and gave generously of the wealth of his mighty kingdom to those who did not fare so well. All the lands of blessed Endorenna had not seen such harmony and prosperity since the days of Elendil and his sons for King Elessar Telcontar reigned.
There was no land blessed like unto that of Gondor and Arnor lest it was Rohan, the land of the Horse-lords, where the men of both kingdoms passed frequently in-between. An oath had kept them as allies before, yet in the Fourth Age it had been far more than a promised word. King Elessar and King Èomer had been friends of great worth, like brothers of one mother, until Èomer passed from the earth long before his close companion.
Aragorn had attended the renowned man's burying in the rich, green lands of Rohan in terrible grief and remembrance only some years hence. There were none that were not moved to tears by his tribute to Èomer son of Éomund when he was the last to speak for him. Èomer's son now sat upon the throne of Rohan in Edoras as another close confident of the King of Gondor. It was there that he now went with Queen Evenstar, Eldarion and his wedded Vanimeldë, and an array of knights with the tree of Gondor emblazoned on their breastplates.
Eldarion had wed Vanimeldë only a few months after she had recovered from her strange illness. After realising he had been at her bedside until she returned to her full health, Vanimeldë knew she could never love another as much as she did him for his heart had fallen into her hands long before. It had only added to the joy that burgeoned in the White Tower even though only two months later King Èomer breathed his last.
When they arrived, Èomer's son Èodred greeted them at the gates on a fine steed shining white in the bright sunlight of the day. He had long golden hair braided over his shoulders and brilliant blue eyes like those of his mother Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. He was a handsome man, matured and wise.
"King Elessar!" He dismounted and knelt before Aragorn's horse. "I was overjoyed to hear the tidings of your coming, my lord. You are more than welcome in all of Rohan."
Aragorn dismounted as well and lifted Èodred to his feet. "Please stand, young lord. You are the king of these lands, not I."
"And yet I am bidden to do it for the sake of honour and respect. You are the greatest and noblest king, and so I kneel to you in service."
"I thank you, Èodred, for it is a great honour to me personally," said Aragorn as he smiled upon the younger man.
Èodred grinned when he saw Eldarion. "I am also glad to see you, my lord." He bowed before Vanimeldë. "I had heard that my lady was fair to see, yet I did not truly realise how splendid you truly were to behold. Welcome to Edoras, great city of Rohan."
"It is a pleasure to visit this place for I have heard often of its rolling, green hills and rich lands." She smiled, her beauty bright like the sun. "And of its people who are indeed courteous and wonderful."
"Eldarion, you have fared well I see," laughed Èodred. "Come! Let us all come to Meduseld where my father stood often with yours in friendship and in renown. There we can drink to this long-lasting peace that our King has kept intact."
"And yet it was not I who brought it," he said.
"But you have held it in your grasp for all to share for all these years. That in itself is worthy of praise," said Arwen standing proudly at his side.
Meduseld shone golden as it had for centuries and beckoned to them as they approached on the winding path. Many greeted them joyfully from the front of their dwellings as they passed or ran to tell others of their arrival.
Soon they all stood together, including Èodred's wife, with golden chalices in their hands filled with the finest wine Edoras could produce. They drank as one to the richness and peace of Gondor and Rohan and to their bloodlines that would continue that which they had started.
Edoras' guests were given lodging at once and they remained there for a time. There was no specific purpose for their stay in the realm of the Horse-lords; Aragorn had just asked them if they would accompany him to that fair place. Arwen supposed that he went in memory of his kingly friend.
Silmarien had lingered in Minas Tirith with her younger sister Tinúviel. Arwen had been reluctant to leave Tinúviel behind for she was only six years of age, yet Silmarien had insisted she go so that she could tend to her sister.
It was a month before the King and his fair company returned to Minas Tirith. His two daughters rushed out to meet Arwen and him and told him of how Steward Faramir's son had been there for a fortnight.
"And he did not stay?"
"No, father, he dealt with some business here for you and decided to return," said Silmarien.
"Ah, I wish he had waited. He would have received a better welcome," said Aragorn.
Arwen lifted Tinúviel into her arms. The young girl had long, dark hair like that of her mother and eyes of shining grey that seemed more like her father's. Even at such an age, it was already apparent that she would be an exceptional beauty when her years grew. Aragorn and Arwen had named her for their kin of the First Age, Lúthien Tinúviel, for both knew she would be the most beautiful of her time when Arwen was gone.
Aragorn suddenly stopped to see where he had come after uncounted years. He had three children more dear to him than life and of greater beauty than any landscape he had ever seen; even in the Elven kingdoms of the Third Age. But, even closer to his heart, he held his most precious possession at his side each and every day, each and every night. Arwen Undómiel was with him and was never absent from his presence. He smiled and felt overwhelmed by the blessings he had been given. He raised his eyes to the heavens where the sky shone brilliant blue and birds of the air rode liltingly on the sweet wind.
"Estel," murmured Arwen, "you are far away."
Aragorn kissed Tinúviel's brow and looked into her eyes. "Nay, my love, I never am gone long and I never will." His smile faded as a shadow of a great bird overhead passed over him.
Eldarion and Vanimeldë came together four years later to Aragorn and Arwen. They had urgent news that they did not wish to conceal any longer. Yet the King and Queen had already guessed. Vanimeldë was with child.
Time began to pass swiftly for Aragorn once the blessed child was birthed, and he often had to pause in his kinghood to watch. He did not even have many duties as King of Gondor and Arnor for a time since little was stirring in Middle-earth, let alone his own kingdoms. Messengers were still passing down the North and South Roads, and keeping the peace in the North where his heart still turned at times.
The only notion that disturbed Aragorn was that there were young men who were growing restless among Men in the long years of peace. They were very few, yet he knew their numbers could grow without warning. He had already had to execute a youth from Dol Amroth who had troubled Vanimeldë herself before she wed Eldarion. He had tried to harm her because of his terrible jealousy and rallied four other young men to his sinister cause.
Aragorn lowered his head where he stood pondering such dark thoughts on a high balcony of the White Tower. "My beloved son…you shall have such trouble in your time as King. May you be wise and wary."
Yet when will his time come? he thought.
Soon, the wind whispered as it curled around him. Very soon.
He shuddered and moved into shadow where the stars no longer crowned his head in glory.
ANOTHER NOTE: I must inform you all that ch. 35 is the FINAL AND LAST chapter! Please be prepared for it: I cannot even begin to imagine how sad it will be. After all these months my story is finally coming to an end...