qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp
Chapter 28
By Trust
qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp
The day had begun badly for Fingon. The sun had risen sooner then his sleep fogged mind had wished and pulled him out of his quiet rest to begin the day's activities. He slipped out of bed allowing Aeroniel to continue sleeping. She was so tired after the last few weeks of fall harvest that he let her sleep in whenever she wished it. She had insisted on helping with the harvest even though he had tried to persuade her otherwise. It was custom for the king and his heirs to help reap the yearly harvest with the people. It showed their love and good will as well as showing that no task was below the king and his family. Aeroniel had joined them, and done more then the work of two women her size. Fingon smiled a little as he pulled his tunic over his head; she had paid for her labors in sore muscles for days.
Her weariness was more a cause for concern then Fingon cared to admit. At first, he had thought it might portend something more joyful, but those hopes had been set aside when his wife's monthly cycle came a few days later. Then he was worried that she was ill, but again she assured him that it was nothing. Still, he let her sleep and she seemed content with that.
Fingon made his way into the kitchen where the cook and maids were already working to prepare the vast amounts of food that would be consumed by the household throughout the day.
"Good morning ladies," he said snitching a few slice of his favorite melons.
"Now, don't go spoiling the meal like that your Highness," one of them scolded, a vague hand swatting that his, "You'll not touch a thing at breakfast if you do that, now will you?"
Fingon, clapping the fruit between two slices of buttered bread and perching on the counter, legs swinging, only winked roguishly, "Won't I just?" he said around a mouthful, "I was known as the bottomless pit when I was a boy."
"Not that your much more now though," the senior cook said smilingly, "You have to keep up your strength your Highness," she said wisely, "You just go ahead and take what you want. We do not want anything here."
"What a blessed female you are," Fingon said. He placed a kiss on the woman's cheek and left the kitchen with another bread and butter sandwich in his hands.
He went to the study he and his father shared but the room was empty of anyone save the quiet little church mouse of a scholar that his father was instructing. The silent Noldor ellon rarely spoke and if he did it was in tones so quiet that Fingon never heard a word the fellow said. But since he and Fingolfin seemed to get along like two peas in a pod Fingon didn't mind. He nodded to the scribe and went to his desk to begin looking over the dispatches that had arrived at night fall the evening before.
Sifting through the piles of letters from various parts of the kingdom Fingon found a strange letter lying at the bottom of the stack. It was a curious thick packet and sealed with a strange seal that he hadn't seen before— no wait, he did know the seal. It was the seal of his brother's house!
With trembling hands Fingon torn the seal and a litter of missives poured onto his desks and over the floor. The sound startled the scribe who looked up to see the prince tearing a letter open, concern and surprise written all over his face. Noting also the scattered letters the ellon stood and began to gather them together. Fingon, engrossed in his letter, didn't even see him.
To Fingon, Prince of the Noldor and Future High King of Elves: Greetings
Fingon smiled. It was just like his brother to bother with formal greetings when he was writing after so long an absence.
My dearest brother, I have this day just received news of your marriage. Pray, do not ask me how I obtained this information I cannot, for the safety of my city, reveal it. However, I have heard, and please, allow me to wish you and your wife everlasting joy. I have great cause for joy as well. My daughter, your niece Idril, is married as well. This time last year she was wed to the Son of the House of Hador, a valiant man whose name is Tuor. He was sent to us by the Valar Ulmo and has won the hearts of the people as well as my daughter.
Fingon let loose a long clear whistle. Turning to the scribe he said, "Can you imagine that? Little Idril married to a human?"
The scribe looked confused and said nothing, as usual, but continued to gather the letters. The scribe couldn't imagine what was so wonderful about Idril marrying a human; everyone seemed to be doing so these days. Fingon, of all people shouldn't be surprised. After all, he was married to ----
"Great God! Blessed Varda! Namo, Mandos and Manwe!" Fingon vaulted out of his chair clutching the letter, his face lit with a thousand smiles, "I cannot believe it! It is possible! It's possible!"
Fingon grabbed the scribe by the shoulders and hugged him, "It's possible! Thank Illuvatar it's possible!" He squeezed the startled scribe and bolted from the room shouting like an elfling as he ran. The scribe gathered his letters again and stacked them on the desk. With a readjustment of his robes, Erestor returned to his own desk and buried himself in reading.
qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp
The next morning, Serena went with Bill to the local Starbucks and returned laden with donuts, Danishes and all varieties of coffee. Aeroniel and Maehsos had been at work on Ronald whose face was fully healed and scar free. Setting down the cup holder of steaming lattes, Serena examined Ron's face with interest. She turned to Maehsos, "How did you do that?"
The slender elf shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands, "I just did. It would be easier if you could accept that."
"Not in a million years," she said. Patting Ron's cheek, she said, "I'll have to go in today. I've already taken two sick days and I can't very well stay away anymore. Do you want me to say anything for you?"
Ron shook his head and accepted a cup of coffee from Bill, "No. I don't want anyone to know that we have any contact. It's safer for both of us if we're not seen together or talking over much. Besides," Ron flashed a smile, "They think I'm dead remember?"
"Snap." Serena grinned, "What'd you think of Starbucks, Lady Aeroniel?"
Aeroniel winced slightly, "It is different. Thank you," she offered a smile, "Be careful today, Serena. I would be glad to wait until your return to finish my story."
Serena swung her purse over her shoulder and gave her car keys a jingle, "Nothing doing, I can see that those two need to know now. You can always give me the shortened version later. See ya all."
The door closed behind the nurse and Aeroniel said, "She is very brave."
"Serena's never been one to back done," Ronald agreed, "She's the best nurse the hospital has. If anything happens she'll let us know."
Bill clapped his hands together and leant forward, cherry Danish in his fingers, "What happened next?"
qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp
Aeroniel read the letter over again slowly, while Fingon paced the room, watching her reaction. Folding the letter with careful strokes she laid it on her knees and looked up at her husband.
"Congratulations Fingon. You're a great uncle." Her tone was calm and unexcited, her expression unchanged.
Fingon stared at his wife. She was sitting up in bed, her hair tousled still and one strap of her night gown slipping off a shoulder. She was quietly and calmly beautiful. But this disappointed Fingon. Climbing onto the bed beside his wife he took up the letter.
"Do you not see my love? This shows that we are not without hope. If my niece and her human husband may conceive a child then why can we not do the same? This, at least, gives us hope that it is possible for us to have a baby."
He caressed her cheek gently, "What is wrong darling?"
Aeroniel toyed with a lock of hair, not meeting Fingon's eyes, "I'm afraid that it's just a false hope, Fingon. By your own brother's account, Tuor is the most elf-like man he's ever seen. He seems to be more then human. I'm just—me. If it were possible we should have had a child by this time if there was nothing wrong with me. Don't you see," she took his face in her hands, "That I am the one who is failing here? You're a young elf, at the height of your strength and ability and there is no question that you are capable of gaining an heir. It may be that I am not."
"Aeroniel, I won't have you saying things like that," Fingon said pulling away angrily, "I have faith in you, I love you, I have never whispered a word of ill feeling to you and yet you doubt me! What can I do to change your feelings? What can I do that will help you to understand that I have every hope and love bound up in you? And why do you appeal to all my weaknesses with your doubts?"
He trembled slightly, his face pale and hurt. Aeroniel's heart twisted at the sight and she turned away.
"Why can you not trust me this one last time?" he asked, his tones pleading.
"Because I am afraid that if we fail again that you will suffer more then me," Aeroniel whispered brokenly, "I don't want to see you…I couldn't bear it. Not again."
Fingon's eye searched her face and his eyes clouded with pain, "We will not fail love. If your heart trembles at this," he gestured toward the folded missive, "Then we will forget it. I will not ask it of you again."
He brushed her lips with his and offered a weak smile, "I'll wait for you at breakfast," he said softly, allowing the door to click shut behind him.
Aeroniel buried her face in her arms and heaved a shaky sob. But she would not allow herself the release of tears. She was not the wounded one now.
qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp
"I don't get it," Ronald said, "If it was possible and hunky-dory why would she—you shrink from having a child?"
Aeroniel's eye flashed up to his and in a instant he saw that noble side of her that was normally put aside by the passive half, "Because I was afraid for both Fingon and I. I admit that my actions were entirely selfish, to the worst degree. I didn't want to try to have children because I was scared of being labeled barren and useless to my husband. In this time, when pregnancy is considered an encumbrance, I suppose that the ability to become a mother is little thought of. But in my world I felt barren, to my very core. You can never understand what that feels like."
"I guess not," Ronald said taken aback.
"Then do not presume to judge my actions." She answered. Maehsos laid a calming hand on her arm and she stopped and took a deep breath, "Please."
Bill and Ron exchanged glances and Bill, clearing his throat asked, "So why did you react that way my lady? What fear gripped you?"
Aeroniel sighed and began to pleat and un-pleat a fold of her gown, "I was trying to protect my husband. I knew that if we would try to conceive again and we were to be---unsuccessful, that it would kill him. He would never have blamed me even if the fault lay in my corner. He would have blamed himself and taken all the hurt and pain and burden upon his own shoulders. He was always that way, with his family and friends and close comrades. He was accustomed to being the giver in any situation and I knew it. I was too proud to be the receiver and I was afraid that it would crush him."
"Well, I don't know about your husband," Ron said, "But I would have been more offended by your reaction then if we'd simply failed to conceive."
Aeroniel smiled at him, that strange, knowing smile, "Would you? Would you indeed? Then it may not surprise you that he felt the same, but I was too blinded by my own selfishness to see it."
"You're strangely chipper about it all," Maehsos said. Propping his chin on his hands in a childish fashion he said, "Do go on, I never did hear this part of the story."
qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp
Fingolfin looked up in mild surprise as Fingon came into the door in a rolling storm cloud of anger. Without a word to his father, Fingon stomped over to his desk and began to write out orders with a deadly pen and marginal ink spills. The High King returned his attention to his book and wondered how long it would be before Fingon exploded all over the study from his heated fuming.
"Atar, there's a disturbance in the eastern fold and I am going to take a small battalion to settle it," Fingon said as he scored through another letter with a vicious hand.
"Oh? Why the personal attendance? I am sure the captain of the guard is quite capable." Fingolfin said off handedly.
"Everyone seems to be more capable then me these days," Fingon muttered darkly.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. No, I think I'll go after it myself. I need a little fresh air."
"I see." Fingolfin closed his book and tapped the spine against his chin as he contemplated his son, "I'm going to take a tour of the Southern reach and I thought I might take Aeroniel with me. I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? Why on earth should I mind? She has a mind of her own. I daresay she can do whatever she wants without worrying about what I might have to say about it.
"Good!" the High king replied with maddening brightness, "Since you in such a good mood today I won't ask if you want to come. Farewell, and say hello to the people for me." Fingolfin smacked his son on the back as he passed causing the pen to careen wildly across the page leaving a huge black band.
"Bugger it!" Fingon exploded.
When Fingon left the study a few hours later he left behind a stack of letters for the carrier to deliver. However, Fingolfin, mindful of the fact that Fingon's mood was as black as his ink, had advised Erestor to prudently hide them. It was entirely possible that Fingon would turn his stormy mood into rays of sunshine and then he would seriously regret having made important decisions in the grip of anger.
Fingon had arranged to have the guard meet him just after the lunch hour to ride to the eastern fold. But when he reached the courtyard no one was to be seen but Aeroniel with two horses and a large basket resting by her feet. She stood when she saw him.
"Your father said that you wanted to meet me here. He implied that you wouldn't stop for lunch and I thought that I might bring some."
Fingon scanned the courtyard, but there were only a few stable boys cleaning out the stalls. Not an army horse or solider in sight. Fingon strode to his wife and said, "And where is my father?"
"He said he had business in the Eastern Fold today. Something about troubles they were having …I didn't quite hear what he said." She studied his face, "I take it that this wasn't what you'd planned?"
Fingon heaved a short sigh of annoyance and said, "No. But my father will have his way. I'm not in a very good mood, Aeroniel. I'm not going to be good company."
Handing him the basket she answered, "Neither am I. I've been cross with all my maids and ladies today and I know they're glad to see the back of me. I think the whole castle wants to get ride of us."
Fingon couldn't help the smile that pulled at his mouth, "Well, then. Since we're not wanted either by our friends or each other, I suppose we'd better go for a long ride."
"And lunch. You're a beast when you haven't eaten," she answered with a grin.
They rode out and over the fields toward the Southern Reach. The day was one of those soft early fall days when the air is warm but contains that spice of changing seasons and falling leaves. The sky had reached the perfect shade of blue and seemed content to rest there and watch the young couple as they rode. They didn't speak much at first, each was still too hurt for conversation, but gradually they conversed upon the topics of everyday life, the little cares and worries that attend a royal couple.
Over lunch they moved to closer topics, the affairs that threatened their family and friends. There had been increasing trouble between Celegorm and Carathir, the only two of the Feanorians who refused to recognize any kind of rule at all. And by way of elimination, they finally reached the topic of Turgon and his grandson.
"I suppose he must be very proud of his boy," Aeroniel said, "I think you said he always wanted a boy?"
"Yes. He loved Idril of course, but he had always hinted that a son would have been pleasant to have. I think that's why he took so well to my sister's son Maeglin. I haven't heard anything of him in a long time. For all accounts he is an elf to admire. Aredhel would have been proud." Fingon rolled to his back and pillowed his head on his hands, "But now he has the longed for son. I have this ridiculous picture of him holding a fat, ball of a baby on his knee as he penned that letter.
"Perhaps you're not far from the truth," Aeroniel agreed. She folded a napkin and tucked it into the basket before joining him, her head against his shoulder, "I would like to see him."
"Who? Turgon?" Fingon asked.
"No." Aeroniel's voice grew very soft, "Eärendil."
The name rolled off her tongue with hung in the air between them. Moving up to one elbow she looked down into Fingon's face.
"It's a nice name, but I like Ereinion better."
"Ereinion? Descendent of Kings? I like Gil-Galad better then that. It has power and gives am impression of might." Fingon said, "But why are you saying this?"
Aeroniel didn't answer right away. Her brow furrowed and she said, "Star of Radiance? I'm afraid that will be a name he will grow into."
Fingon sat up, "What are you talking about Aeroniel?" he asked.
She looked deep into his eyes, "You asked me if I could be brave enough to trust you once more." She laid a hand over his heart and whispered, "I do."