CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
It took just under two weeks to reach Annúminas, Elboron, Díorn and Arwen all insisting that Eldarion rest for at least eight hours a night. It was driving the Prince insane but when Suldal decided to agree with the three Eldarion had little choice but to agree. When at last they reached the Main Gate of the northern city, Eldarion was ready for a rest. Though he would not admit it, mainly to stop his companions from fussing, the journey had sapped away his strength which had not been replaced by his enforced rest.
"You left this to come back to Gondor!" exclaimed Díorn. Eldarion nodded, sliding from Suldal's back.
"My heart belongs in the south," he murmured as he took in the sight of the northern state for the first time in seventeen years, before turning back to Arwen. The Elf-Queen moved to Eldarion's side and took hold of his hand.
"Why are you nervous?" she asked.
"I feel a little out of place," replied Eldarion.
"You have no reason to be," replied Arwen, cupping his cheek. "The place is almost exactly the same as when you left, and you have been sorely missed, not least by your sisters."
A hand rested on Eldarion's shoulder and Eldarion turned his head and caught sight of Elboron.
"I will be at your side," he said. Eldarion gripped his hand in silent thanks.
Aragorn was sitting in the garden, teasing the skin on his grandson's feet while Faerveren watched. Arndír giggled and kicked in reflex against the sword callused hand fingers.
The infant seemed to be a guiding light for Aragorn and, after the alarming, and somewhat bewildering, sight of him bursting into tears the moment Faerveren placed the boy in his arms, the King had spent every moment he could playing with his grandson, or simply watching him as he slept. Faerveren had a strong belief that Aragorn's attachment to Arndír had something to do with Eldarion but decided against broaching the subject, Aragorn having become very touchy about the subject of his son.
Someone cleared their throat and the pair turned their heads. Arndír continued to gurgle in Aragorn's arms. In the entrance of the garden stood one of the young rangers who looked like he was hiding a secret.
"My King, Lady Faerveren," said the ranger as he bowed. "Queen Arwen had returned from Rohan."
Aragorn stood and resettled Arndír in Faerveren's arms before going to greet his wife, Faerveren following. What neither expected to see was the two-dozen entourage that accompanied the Elven Lady.
"Didn't you leave with just Hinluin and Culas?" Aragorn asked, greeting Arwen with a kiss on her hand.
"I did," replied Arwen. "But your Steward had put his foot down and ordered your elite to Annúminas."
"I think it was Éowyn," said Eldarion as he stepped forward. "Mae govannen, hír nîn." well met, my lord
"Eldarion?" whispered Aragorn. Eldarion smiled and went to one knee before his King. Aragorn let out a choked laugh and pulled Eldarion into a mutual hug.
"Well met indeed," he said before pressing and impassioned kiss to Eldarion's temple. Arndír gurgled in his mother's arms and the small noise caught Eldarion's attention.
"Faerveren?" asked Eldarion, pulling out of Aragorn's arms and walking over to his sister. Faerveren smiled and gave a small curtsey. Eldarion cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead. "You look beautiful."
Faerveren smiled and settled Arndír in his arms, making Eldarion look a little disconcerted.
"And who is this little one?" he asked quickly arranging the infant.
"Arndír," replied Faerveren. "Your nephew."
"How old?" asked Eldarion, as Arndír made a grab for a loose lace on his jerkin.
"Six weeks," replied Faerveren. "I did send a letter."
"I was fighting for my life six weeks ago," murmured Eldarion, gazing down at Arndír who had succeeded in his mission and was now sucking the end of the captured string. Faerveren's breath caught.
"I was wondering why Adar cried when he held him for the first time," she said.
"You mean he didn't tell you!" exclaimed Eldarion.
"That you had fallen? Yes. But not that the dates were so close," replied Faerveren.
"I was taken down on the anniversary of Kalya's death," replied Eldarion. "Enough of this sombre mood! Where is this little one's father so I can congratulate him on such a handsome child?"
"On patrol I'm afraid," sighed Faerveren. "He left a week after Arndír was born."
"It is good to have another male in the family," said Elboron as he stepped up behind Eldarion. "Faerveren you are looking radiant!"
"And you are filthy!" replied Faerveren.
"That tends to happen when one is travelling," said Elboron grinning like an imp. "Congratulations." Faerveren beamed and accepted the kiss to her cheek.
"It is well that we live three weeks ride away," said Eldarion turning to face Elboron, Arndír still in his arms. "I don't think Faerveren would appreciated us teaching her son……."
Eldarion tapered off as he caught sight a two travellers arriving at the gates. Both looked to be around the same age as Eldarion and were dressed in the leaf green and mud brown uniform of the Dúnedain Rangers. A sword was attached to each belt and the elder had a bow and quiver strapped across his shoulders. The younger was immediately set upon by Hinluin, only to be gently cuffed about the head in an attempt to curb his enthusiasm. The pair proceeded to hold a very rapid sign conversation which caused the elder traveller to glance up. Eldarion and the Ranger stared at each other in shock.
When they looked back, no one could recall who made the first move. All they knew was that after a couple of minutes, Elboron had found himself holding Arndír while Eldarion and Túnír had met in a tight embrace.
Túnír buried his face in Eldarion's shoulder and a muffled whimper told the Prince that he was struggling to keep a control on his emotions.
"You're alive!" he choked as his hands sought for more purchase on Eldarion's shoulders, not caring that they had an audience of two dozen, including the King, Queen and eldest Princess of Gondor, along with twenty of Gondor's elite warriors and the heir to Ithilien.
Eldarion was fairing little better and had returned the gesture of pressing his face into Túnír's shoulder.
"I'm alive," he confirmed in a strained voice. Túnír choked into Eldarion's shoulder and held his childhood friend for a couple more minutes before pulling away and striking the Prince hard across the cheek. Elboron and Díorn stiffened and Faerveren's breath caught. Eldarion simply stared at Túnír.
"How could you have been so stupid?" demanded Túnír. Alam, who was the second ranger, gently pulled out of Hinluin's arms to watch in readiness should things turn a little ugly.
"My reasons are the same as Alam's were eight years ago," replied Eldarion.
"Alam was not at risk of dying!" shot back Túnír. Alam's eyebrow rose. The slash up his back had bled for two days, his body unable to start the clotting process due to the wounds position and Alam's continual movement. The inability to access medical equipment immediately had meant the wound had started to fester before they had returned to Annúminas and Alam was weak for at least a week after the initial injury had been inflicted. True, it had not been as serious as Eldarion's wounds but even still, death had been attempting to rear its ugly head again.
"That does not change my reasons," said Eldarion. "I was in battle, Eledher was in trouble and I was able to help."
"I have a good mind to ride to Rohan and….."
"You will do no such thing unless you plan to exact the same revenge upon Hinluin!" barked Eldarion showing exactly why he had been Prince Regent since the age of nineteen. Túnír proceeded to imitate a goldfish while Eldarion turned to face Alam.
"How are you mellon nîn?" asked Eldarion. Alam waved his arms around in a rapid succession of fluid movements which left Elboron and Díorn completely stumped. my friend
"I know it was a foolish thing to do but you don't really have time to think in battle," said Eldarion. "But you did not answer my question."
"Relieved," said Alam in Westron before resorting back to sign and detailed to Eldarion exactly how worried the people in Annúminas, and the Stronghold, had been.
"Eldarion?" asked Elboron as he noticed his friend sway slightly. "Are you alright?"
Eldarion nodded, looking both dazed and dopey. "Just a little tired."
"I knew you were more exhausted than you were letting on!" exclaimed Elboron handing Arndír back to Faerveren and wrapping an arm around Eldarion's shoulders. "Come on. You will have some food and then you will get some rest!"
Elboron all but dragged Eldarion into the house, leaving behind an amused Díorn, Túnír, Alam and Faerveren.
"He still does that," murmured Faerveren.
"Does what?" asked Díorn.
"Act like an old mother hen," said Faerveren.
"Has done since Eldarion returned to the south," replied Díorn with a smile. "If it were Elboron who was injured, Eldarion would have been the same."
"It is good to know some things do not chance," said Túnír. "My Lady, if you will excuse me, I think I should remove the countryside from my skin before I report to your father." Faerveren inclined her head, and with a quick incline of the head, Túnír sprinted up the steps.
Later that evening, Eldarion was to be found sprawled on his back, arms and legs bent at angles that would definitely lead to cramp come morning. The setting sun shone through the window casting a golden glow across his sun-bronzed face and causing the natural red highlights of his raven curls to be seen. Elboron was curled like a wolf at the end of the bed, also asleep. Aragorn smiled gently as he watched the Princes sleep, resting his shoulder and temple against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest.
"It is good to have you back, Eldarion," he murmured.
"But how long will he stay?" asked Túnír as he came across the King.
"Till he is healthy," replied Aragorn. "After that I have no idea."
"What is so appealing about the South?" asked Túnír in frustration. Aragorn chuckled.
"Why is the North so captivating for you?" he asked, cocking his head.
"This is my home!" exclaimed Túnír. "It is a beautiful country. And don't argue with me, you know I speak the truth."
"The South is Eldarion's home," said Aragorn. "It is where he grew up. Maybe, if he had been raised in the north the same as his sisters, he would share your opinion of the city. And if your situations were reversed, you would share his. As it is you belong to two worlds."
"It sounds so depressing when you put it like that," muttered Túnír as he rested against the wall.
"And if you had been from the same worlds, Eldarion would not be the same and neither would you. Do not wish for the past to be changed, just accept what you have been given."
"I hate it when you turn sombre," said Túnír. "Which reminds me, my Lord, can you spare my father for a few weeks now that Eldarion is back?"
"That all depends on what I will be sparing him for," replied Aragorn.
"This incident with Eldarion had made me realise exactly how fragile life is, even in times of 'peace'," said Túnír. "Father will not say so but he is scared for Tarcil."
"And you wish for me to send him to the Stronghold," finished Aragorn. Túnír nodded.
"They have not been together in seven months, other than the odd occasion when Tarcil comes to the city to relay reports to you," said the young man. "Please my Lord."
Aragorn smiled. "I will send him, though he will not go without protest. But what of you? You have not had a reasonable break from patrol since March."
"Define reasonable," replied Túnír. "I am on respite for the next three weeks and I intend to spend as much of it as possible with Eldarion." Aragorn chuckled and after squeezing Túnír's shoulder briefly, left the younger man to his musings, feeling an undeniable sense of relief sweep through his soul as his own chaotic emotions slowly tempered.
Eldarion was home and he was safe.
I am sorry for the appalling lateness of this chapter. Work has just been a little hectic over the holiday season.
All the best for 2006
KC