A/N: I'm dreadfully sorry for the delay between the last update and this one, but my days are currently so sufficiently stressed that I have only little spare time each day, and, currently, I'm pouring most of that free time into the creation of an original novel for the intention of being published.

I have many ideas for Someone To Name Friend, and this story will NOT cease being updated. I'm just very hung up at the moment with lots of things…

Chapter 21: The Woes of Kingship

Aragorn kicked open the double doors, the sheer force of his action causing them to bang against the walls and fall shut behind him as he strode in, tore the finely made crown of silver from his head and threw across the room – somehow managing to land it on the small couch – before falling, face-first, onto the bed with a groan.

"Hard day?" Arwen asked, looking up from her embroidery from where she was seated in her rocking-chair near the small fireplace adorning the Royal bedroom.

"My advisors are trying to kill me. I know it!" came the King's muffled reply from somewhere beneath the pillow he had pulled over his head. "Trade agreements, peace treaties, petty quarrels – they just wait for me to kill myself out of boredom!"

"I'm certain they're just doing their jobs, but forget that their king is a warrior," Arwen offered, putting aside her handwork and rose to her feet – with some difficulty due to her now-cumbersome stomach – and walked to sit beside her husband, gently rubbing his back and easing the tensions in his neck.

They sat so for a few minutes, before a gentle knock fell on the door, and, at the Queen's answering call, opened and Mel walked in. Smiling, he moved to the two, holding a cup in each hand, and offered one to Arwen, and, after Aragorn had managed to turn around, handed the other to the King. Grateful, both the royals inhaled the soothing aroma of each tea – specifically mixed for them, they knew – and drank from the cups.

"So, how are your lessons going?" Arwen asked, motioning for the dark elf to sit down on the chair standing near the grand bed.

"Quite well, my lady," Mel replied with a smile. "Master Erestor is most patient with me, although I still lack words from time to time."

Aragorn gave a snorting laugh, as Erestor was not usually known for his patience. After Elrond had left Rivendell – along with most of the inhabitants of the valley – the grand libraries he had kept had been moved to Minas Tirith and added to the meagre collections there. And, dear old Erestor, one of the few elves who had remained behind, had promptly moved to the city as well, claiming that he would never leave those books out of his sight if he could help it, and in particular not when it came to whimsical humans rebuilding after Sauron's forces, and thus with barely no time at all to go through the quite complicated task of preserving a library. Which meant that when one of the shipments from Rivendell had arrived, so had Erestor; and the once-Chief advisor of Elrond's household had immediately settled down, barricading himself behind books, and allowing only Glorfindel – who had come with him from Rivendell, seeing as Elrohir and Elladan were doing a quite fine job of keeping the valley secure on their own - to pester him.

It had only been when Mel had praised his skills as a scholar and displayed an almost unnatural interesting in the vast library, and had mourned his inability to truly enjoy the writings held within, that Erestor had – on his own, even – offered to teach the dark elf to read and write Westron. Although Mel still spoke with an accent, and remained confused over the meaning of a good deal of words, it was obvious to all that he found it a great relief to be able to communicate more fluently with the inhabitants of the city. Aragorn still kept his initial suspicion of the dark elf understanding far more than he let on, though, even if he had never any reason to complain about anything – Mel had taken a liking to the royal couple, and had begun following like a faithful, self-appointed guardian, in particular after Arwen's pregnancy had been discovered.

Arwen smiled, draining her cup, and rolled the last of the liquid around in her mouth, enjoying the taste of different spices and herbs, of which she could only name a few – even despite being Elrond's daughter – enjoying the relaxing effect it had on her body. She knew, too, from what Mel had told her, that it supplied her with different minerals that were healthy for the development of her child. Aragorn's tea contained different herbs, and was currently one of the few ways in which her husband could relax properly – although she had a strong suspicion that it was more due to the warmth of the tea, the time of the day and the surroundings in which it was served.

"You know, Arwen…," the King slowly said, holding up the mug and looking at it as if he was trying to turn it into glass. "Once our child is born, maybe we should go visit your brothers in Rivendell. I think it would be healthy for us… Would you join us as well, Mel?"

"I would be delighted," the dark elf replied with his usual kind smile, and took the two empty mugs. "But I think I will bid you good night. I have promised to start early tomorrow."

With final wishes of a pleasant night, Mel left the Royal bedroom, and the two others prepared themselves for sleep.