Authour/Banshee Queen: "Thank you guys for your reviews (the first two in this whole thing lol) it made me put the assignments and what not on hold to post this thing up. Thank you for the suggestion Max about Arwen's immortal self but I had already written up these chapters months ago but maybe I could fit it in somewhere as I go along, I'll see what happens. :) Anyway here's the next chappie, hope you guys like it." :D
Disclaimer: "I OWN this story but no the characters, places, yadda yadda..."
Chapter 2: Dinner & A Show
As both the White Lady of Ithilien and Queen of Gondor made their way up the steps to the doors of the Citadel, Éowyn wrung her hands nervously. Arwen frowned at her friend and for the second time slapped her hand away from another of her 'bodily parts.'
"Stop wringing my hands out, you'll give me wrinkles."
Éowyn scowled at her friend.
"Geez, I swear all you care about is your looks Undómiel."
The Elf glowered at her friend menacingly.
"At least I'm not the one riding around on horses trying to kill the Witch King while getting myself a broken arm in the process."
"And a husband." Added Éowyn unaffected by Arwen's comment.
"Whatever," mumbled Arwen casting her a sarcastic look.
"Well what about you?" Questioned Éowyn placing Arwen's white hands on her wide hips.
Arwen whipped her head left to look at her friend in surprise.
"What about me?"
"Well you've basically spent your whole life nancing about reading poetry, sewing, singing, reading, looking pretty," Arwen glared at Éowyn for the last comment, "turning down every suitor who came your way until Aragorn came along, and then you waited around for him reading poetry, sewing, singing, reading and looking pretty for another eighty years until you guys finally got together."
By this stage Arwen had Éowyn's pale hands planted firmly on her narrow hips, tapping her foot angrily. But Éowyn kept on seeing as how she was on a roll, irritating the hell out of Arwen really gave her and everyone in general for that matter, a laugh.
"I mean come on Arwen, out of all the Elf suitors you could've got with, you chose Aragorn? A mortal? What were you thinking?"
Arwen gasped in shock and widened her eyes at the remark, but then the gasp turned into a sneer of her mouth, and leaning back with a sarcastic gesture, she folded her arms angrily at Éowyn and remained half sneering and raising an eyebrow at the White Lady. Suddenly the realization of her words dawned on Éowyn and she stuttered frantically, trying to defend herself.
"You are such a walking contradiction Éowyn," Arwen started, "I'm not the one who had a crush on my husband during the War of the Ring. You just couldn't handle that a man like that would take to a woman like me and that he would find happiness and love in a relationship such as ours. Sure, we may be of different cultures and yes, he is going to die someday," 'Arwen's' eyes wavered for a single moment, "but our relationship is much more than you could've ever had with him should he had taken a fancy to you and much more than what you have at this precise moment!"
Tears immediately pooled in Éowyn's eyes before making their way down her cheek. Arwen suddenly realized the impact of her words and made to touch her friend's arm but Éowyn pulled away, scrubbing vigorously at the tears staining her rosy cheeks.
"Éowyn I-
"Don't bother."
Vush!
A mighty gust of air breezed down the Citadel's hall as Éowyn banged open the doors with two tight-balled fists. Aragorn and Faramir whipped their heads to look at the source of noise coming through the Citadel doors. In half stalked, half walked Arwen whose eyes were red from crying.
Why was she crying? Thought Aragorn to himself confusedly. She was fine when I left her. Mirthful even.
He looked left again to see Éowyn softly gliding along the white marble polished floor. She looked graceful…regretful even.
Was that guilt written all over her face?
Faramir brushed away the thought, but exchanged a puzzled glance with Aragorn when Arwen sat down beside him at the long table. She stared rigidly at her silverware, almost as if off someplace else, but when Éowyn laid a hand on her shoulder with a sorry look, she quickly rose and joined Aragorn on the other side of the table. Aragorn looked over at his wife and smiled, placing a hand on hers. The Elf's sapphire eyes widened at the gesture, and she stared ahead now, her breathing becoming slightly quickened. Both woman locked eyes and Éowyn glared at the Elf, all traces of guilt and regret wiped clean from her face.
"Don't even dare." Growled Éowyn.
"Try me." Retaliated Arwen, just as quietly.
Both Aragorn and Faramir rose an eyebrow at each other in question.
Do they think we can't hear them? Thought Faramir.
Are they well? Aragorn eyed both women as he rolled the thought over in his head. The King of Gondor jumped from his thoughts when Arwen pressed a soft kiss on his left cheek. Aragorn turned his head and looked at his wife suspiciously.
One minute ago she was crying, and now she's kissing me? What the hell happened with her and Éowyn?
On the other side of the table Éowyn gripped her fork like she meant to stab Arwen with it. Unconsciously grinding her teeth together she stared at Arwen as if her eyes could throw knives.
"Honey do you wanna' give me th-
Faramir was silenced as Éowyn gave a rigid shake of her head.
What the hell happened with her and Arwen? Questioned Faramir to himself, eyes darting back and forth between the two women.
In four lines of five, marched liveried servants appearing from between the countless pillars of the Citadel hall bearing platters of roasted livestock, wine, cutlery and so forth. In under five minutes the table was laid magnificently, a feast fit for a king, or the king. Arwen and Éowyn had glared at each other from opposite sides of the table the whole time, never even once taking the time to blink.
"Aaah, who wants a slice of roast pork?" Asked Aragorn timidly, his hand shaking all the while holding the carving knife.
"I will." Came Arwen's unusually perky voice as she held out her plate with both outstretched arms.
"I'd love some." Came Éowyn's forced icy reply.
Neither women had taken their eyes off each other.
O-k. What were they playing at? Thought Aragorn as he placed a second slice of roast pork on Arwen's plate.
"More."
The King turned his head in shock and looked at his wife, she was still looking at Éowyn as if she wanted to eat her whole.
Isn't she on a diet? Trying to watch what she's eating?
"But Melamin I thought-
"More." Interrupted the Queen.
Aragorn placed another slice of roast pork onto her plate.
"More."
Another.
"More."
And another.
She finally stopped at eight, eagerly piling on the chicken drumsticks as well. Arwen watched her with disgust, Éowyn just smiling back fake-like.
"I want to look the best I haven't in ages. You know how the whole kingdom of both Arnor and Gondor depend on me to look my best…," Arwen lowered her brow at Éowyn, "…to look beautiful. Wouldn't you say so Éowyn?"
Arwen snatched the bowl of mashed potatoes from Faramir's hands before he could even protest his thoughts. Scooping a mountain full, she roughly splattered it onto her plate.
SPLAT! SPLAT SPLAT!
She thrust the spoon back into the bowl brutally.
"Well maybe if I ate a little more I wouldn't look like a walking, breathing corpse ready to throw myself off a horse and commit suicide."
Faramir openly choked on a mouthful of chicken, eyes bulging out of his head before Arwen patted him a little too roughly on the back.
"Are you alright darling? Don't need me to fall in love with another man and get him to help me pull the Heimlich maneuver on you, only to be rejected coz' he already has a girlfriend?"
Faramir, in the middle of wiping his mouth with a serviette, whipped his head left to look at his wife. She was smiling sweetly back at him. She hardly ever smiled like that! When she did however, something was very very wrong.
Darling? What the?
She never called him darling. Not once they're whole time of being married.
"Éowyn I don't know what-
Began Faramir but was cut off by Arwen, smiling sweetly at her husband.
"Aragorn honey, don't you think it's sooooo important for a wife to be able to learn such womanly practices before marriage."
The King swallowed nervously.
"Like what?"
Honey? What the?
"Oh you know, like reading poetry, sewing, singing, reading…looking pretty." Éowyn emphasized the last word pouting at Arwen on the other side of the table.
Both Aragorn's and Faramir's eyes widened as far as they would go.
What the fu-
"And did I mention being able to get rid of wrinkles?" Éowyn harshly remarked, wringing her hands roughly in front of Arwen. "You know you really shouldn't wring your hands out, even if you are pissed about something."
Aragorn and Faramir stared bug eyed at Arwen.
Had she just sworn? Aragorn asked himself. She never swears!
Whoa! Arwen just swore! Thought Faramir, looking upon the Elf in a new light. What is up with her and Éowyn tonight?
Abruptly the Queen of Gondor threw her head back and laughed. "Oh look I'm wringing my hands!" She cooed.
"Yes look at my hands," began Éowyn studying them very carefully, all three heads whipped to look at her, "they would be bigger if I ate a little more," her blue eyes flickered up at Arwen, her voice dangerously low, "instead of sticking my fingers down my throat every night and chucking it all back up!" She screamed.
Aragorn immediately fell backwards off his chair while Faramir stared at his wife in disbelief and fear.
She's bulimic?
"Well at least I'm not as fat as this thing!" Squawked Éowyn, scraping back her chair and looking down at her stomach while Aragorn clambered back into his.
"Oh my God! You're calling me fat?" Questioned Arwen scraping back her chair and placing both hands on her narrow hips.
"It would seem so wouldn't it Undómiel." Replied Éowyn harshly.
"Okay I don't know exactly what is going on here but Éowyn you are not bulimic! And Arwen you are not fat!" Said Faramir forcefully.
"Yes she is!" Yelled Éowyn from the other side of the table.
Faramir turned toward Arwen, frowning at her.
"She?" Questioned Aragorn still sitting but now looking up at his wife in confusion. "You're talking about yourself in second person Melamin. Why don't you sit down and drink a glass of water to clear your head."
"She means me." Growled Arwen from the other side of the table.
Faramir stared at his wife, jaw hanging open.
"Éowyn, you are not fat!"
"Oh I know that darling, but apparently I was stupid enough to fall in love with a man who was already betrothed to another who likes to read poetry, look beautiful, and make sure she didn't have any bloody wrinkles on her bloody hands!" She screamed at the top of her lungs at Éowyn.
"Harsh Undómiel. Real harsh." Said Éowyn as she turned abruptly from the table and made her way towards the Citadel doors briskly.
"Melamin our chamber is that way." Called Aragorn pointing to a hall leading past the Steward's Chair.
Éowyn grumbled before stalking off in the direction Aragorn pointed.
"I'm going to retire now too." Said Arwen as she lightly kissed Faramir on the cheek and made her way towards the Citadel doors. The guests quarters were located on the sixth level of Minas Tirith.
"I'm going to retire now too." The words echoed in Aragorn's head. Arwen said that whenever she was planning to retire for the night. Strange Éowyn's behaviour, it was almost as if she were acting how Arwen would and vice versa. Very strange.
Faramir turned to look at his friend with his hands in his pockets once both women had left.
"Whoa."
"Yeah I know what you mean dude." Said Aragorn combing a hand through his hair.
The table was a mess. It looked like a hurricane had come through and created a pig's eating trough. Éowyn's mashed potatoes lay splattered all over her plate with some bits flicked onto the table as well.
"Guess I'll go retire too now." Said Faramir hesitantly. "You don't suppose it was just that time of the month do you?"
"No it was definitely something else. Strange though, it was like Éowyn was acting like Arwen-
"And Arwen acting like Éowyn." Finished Faramir. "…Except in different bodies, I guess."
Aragorn nodded but after a moment laughed. "No no, that's preposterous! I'd only believe that if it came out of their own mouths."
"Okay, but I'm telling you, something is up with our two women Aragorn, and I mean to find out what. It can't be the food or weather, and I'm pretty sure it's not that time of the month."
"Maybe so." Nodded Aragorn in deep thought. "Aaah well, we'll figure this out in the morning. See you at breakfast dude okay?"
Faramir smiled and nodded before making his way towards the Citadel doors. Aragorn sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.
Time to face the wife.
In the guest chamber Arwen paced to and fro.
What will he do? What am I to do? Lie there beside him? No way!
The door opened to reveal Faramir. He smiled at her, unbuttoning his cream coloured dress coat. Arwen went red in the face and turned her back on him abruptly, shielding her eyes with a hand pressed to her temples. Behind her Faramir laughed, taking his coat off fully, now bare chested.
"Playing games honey? What was up with you and Arwen before? Throwing insults one after the other at each other, and the insults," Faramir pulled back the covers of the bed and climbed in, "…so weird. It was like you were bagging yourself and vice versa. Odd really."
"Do you have a shirt on?"
"What?" Faramir looked at Éowyn shielding her eyes from him.
Odd.
"Do you have a shirt on?" Repeated Arwen, feeling like such an idiot at having to act like this.
"Uhh no, does it m-
"Put a shirt on." Said Arwen as she rummaged through Éowyn's walk-in wardrobe. Eight long white silk night gowns hung in one corner of the wardrobe.
Nice. The woman has taste. Goes with her skin. Thought Arwen as she glanced down at the night gown in her hand and then at Éowyn's arm. Could've opted for a different colour though. Guess that's why they call her the White Lady of Ithilien.
"Umm Éowyn-
"Not now I'm…I'm busy…kinda' facing, something complicated." Replied Arwen as she looked down at the gown then at Éowyn's stomach.
Oh God why me?
"But why do I have to put a shirt on?"
Arwen glanced at Éowyn's flat stomach again.
"Faramir please, I'm a little stressed out at the moment."
"It's a little bit hot tonight and I thought…"
Faramir's voice drifted away as her thoughts took the lead.
What the hell. Just don't look down, don't look down. The little voice in her head said as she quickly slipped out of the white trimmed-gold dress and into the white silk night gown.
There. It's over.
"…I'd spend some much needed and promised quality time with you."
Arwen jumped as she felt Faramir's arms slide around her narrow waist and the warmth of his chest heat up the cold skin of her back. Strange that she should feel cold when Faramir said he was hot.
"You haven't got a shirt on!" Said a shocked Arwen, turning around to face the Prince of Ithilien.
He laughed, pulling her closer by her upper arms against his chest. There was nothing for it but to be lead by him.
"Yeah so? Aren't you attracted to all this manliness?" Joked Faramir as he leant in for a kiss.
For a split second Arwen turned bug eyed and gaped before turning away.
"Uhh yes I am Faramir, but tonight I'm just feeling a little sick and I don't think the food went down too well. I'm just going to-
The golden haired man sighed and dropped his hands from her arms.
"I understand."
He walked over to a nearby dresser and taking out a loose long sleeved white cotton shirt, pulled it over his head.
"Happy now?" He questioned as he climbed back into bed.
Arwen nodded, rubbing her left arm and Faramir smiled. After a moment of silence he stared at his wife.
"Are you coming to bed?"
"Uhh yes, yes." Replied Arwen, awkwardly clambering into the King sized bed.
She quickly snuggled down under the covers, facing the other way and as far to the edge as possible. It all seemed in vain though when Faramir blew out the candle and snaked an arm over her hips, his hand comfortably nestled on her slim stomach. Arwen lay there, eyes wide open in the dark, trying to slow her breathing down. She could feel Faramir's chest pressed up against her back and the rise and fall of his breathing, his face nestled in the crook of her neck.
This was going to be a very long night and a very long uncomfortable sleep.
As Éowyn came to the chamber she was to be sleeping in tonight, she inhaled deeply.
This was Aragorn and Arwen's bed chamber. The one they slept in every night.
The one they slept in every night? What am I, twelve?
The one they…did naughty things in…
Ugh!
An immediate surge of spittle gathered in Éowyn's mouth and all of a sudden her eyes were darting around looking for the nearest lavatory.
I think I'm gonna' be…no! Stop acting like a child!
Brushing the thought away she inhaled deeply again and pushed open the heavy wooden door.
The room was lit with two candles, one near the door and another next to the bed on the left. Éowyn peered around the room, there was no sign of Aragorn so far and thank goodness for that. Abruptly she realized she was wringing her hands again and smiled; she was giving Arwen wrinkles.
"What are you smiling about Melamin?"
Éowyn jumped and gaped at the sight of Aragorn as he strode out of the walk-in wardrobe. He was bare chested, wearing nothing but a pair of loose dark blue cotton pants. Spots of colour bloomed on her cheeks and she turned away, trying to hide her eyes with a hand pressed to her temple.
"Uhh n-n-nothing, nothing."
Aragorn chuckled, making his way toward her. Éowyn jumped as she felt Aragorn lay his hands on her hips, slowly massaging them.
"What's wrong Melamin?"
"Uhh, it was just the food tonight, I really don't think I'm in the mood-
In the mood? Get your mind out of the pigsty Éowyn!
"The food? I think it might've been something else. You were acting really strange, both you and Éowyn."
Éowyn spun to face him at the mention of her name.
"Oh? What about her?" Asked Éowyn, casually waltzing over to Arwen's side of the walk-in wardrobe and flicking through the countless garments.
Aragorn laughed and gave her a puzzled look while searching for a dressing gown.
"What about her? You two were acting so strange. Insulting yourselves, bagging yourselves. You said "well at least I'm not as fat as this thing", what was that supposed to mean? It was almost as if you and Éowyn were trapped in each other's bodies or something and were insulting each other on your looks."
Éowyn chuckled nervously.
"Yeah that, well that was just a girls' tiff." Replied Éowyn as she picked up a silk lilac night gown. There were others, cut shorter, cut longer, different colours and different styles. This one seemed the most decent one of the lot, ankle length, except for the low cut V at the front. Éowyn grimaced ruefully at herself in the mirror. No wonder Arwen liked the colour lilac, it suited her well.
"A girl's tiff? Geez you women sure know how to pull one off well."
Éowyn looked down at her busty cleavage.
Oh God why me?
"You know I seem to recall a certain Queen of Gondor promising me she would meet me in our bed chamber tonight…"
Aragorn's voice drifted off as Éowyn's thoughts took the lead.
Don't look down, don't look down. That's the key, just breath. Breath Éowyn, breath.
Éowyn looked down at Arwen's protruding chest and half groaned, half winced. Suddenly one large hand curved around her belly, the other fiddling with the laces of her bodice at the back of her dress, and Aragorn's mouth was roaming over her shoulder all at once. The White Lady screamed in surprise and jumped out of Aragorn's clutches.
"What? Don't you want to-
"No no no, it's not that I don't want to", started Éowyn, then stopped short.
What? You want to…
"I-I mean, that is", Aragorn slowly advanced toward her, every muscle in his upper body moving with his walk, "I-I wouldn't mind-
Wouldn't mind? Are you crazy?
"Uhh, what I mean is", Aragorn latched an arm onto her hip, his mouth grazing the soft skin of her neck, "…I HAVE IRRITABLE BOWL SYNDROME!" Éowyn blurted out before she could stop herself.
The King's mouth stopped in mid 'bite' and he moved back to look her in the eye.
"Irritable Bowl Syndrome Arwen?"
Éowyn exhaled loudly before breathing; "Uh huh", with a vigorous nod of her head.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Questioned Aragorn, bringing his other arm around her back.
"Uhhhhhh…", the White Lady frantically searched for an answer, "I didn't want to upset you."
Aragorn frowned at his wife.
"Upset me? And how exactly would you have upset me by telling me that?"
"I have no clue", squeaked Éowyn, gripping onto the night-gown as if it were a life-saver. "I'm gonna' go change, umm, just- stay right there", she gestured nervously before turning away with a fake smile and closing the bathroom door tightly behind her.
I'm a goner, I'm a goner!
Éowyn leant against the door and exhaled deeply, catching her reflection in the mirror opposite her.
"Why oh why did it have to be you Arwen?" She questioned Arwen's reflection. "No matter", she grumbled, pulling the dress over her head and changing into the other one.
Hey! I did it! I did it! Cheered the voice in her head realizing she had 'accomplished' getting changed without having to look at Arwen's body.
"I did it! I did it! Woo hoo!" Hoorayed Éowyn as she skipped about the bathroom laughing.
"Did what Melamin?" Knocked Aragorn with an ear pressed against the door.
The White Lady yelped in surprise and stopped in surprise.
"Uhh, nothing honey, I just"- she glanced down at her generous cleavage- "had a little trouble getting into this gown."
"Oh", came Aragorn's muffled voice, "well do you need some help? I could-
"No no, it's fine", smiled Éowyn as she opened the door and made her way towards the bed.
The bed.
She stopped short realizing she didn't know which side Arwen slept on.
Shit.
Aragorn silently walked up behind her.
"Something wrong?"
She shook her head nervously and instead made her way to the window. Better to let him get in first then make a fool of herself.
Looking out upon the White City, Éowyn softly gasped. She had never really taken much interest with the view of Gondor, but from this view, it seemed quite impressive and magnificent.
"Wow", whispered Éowyn looking out over the White City. It seemed to glow in the moonlight.
"Beautiful isn't it?" Remarked Aragorn, propped up on one elbow, fondly looking upon his wife.
Éowyn nodded, eyes still roaming…they came to rest on the Guest Houses one level below. Her white knuckles crackled, eyes narrowing in anger at a white building below, teeth grinding against one another.
If she tries one thing…she'll wish she was never bloody born! Bloody Elf thinks she-
"Coming to bed?" Asked Aragorn, pushing back the purple coverlets.
Éowyn whirled around and gripped the window-sill in fear. Anxiety like a raging flood sped through her veins like an avalanche. She nodded nervously, and quickly but shakily climbed into bed, lying down awkwardly to the farthest side of the bed, hoping to God she didn't roll off the edge onto the floor. But however good her intentions seemed, Aragorn thwarted them by pulling her in close to his body, wrapping an arm tightly around her waist. In the dark, Éowyn's eyes bulged out of her head disbelieving was she was feeling. Behind her Aragorn sighed, burrowing deeper into the crook of her neck, breathing deep the scent of her dark hair.
One night of this. Thought Éowyn shifting uneasily under Aragorn's hold. One night in this bed and in these arms and I'll be back to normal…I hope.
As Éowyn inhaled deeply and closed her eyes slowly drifting to sleep, another thought crossed her mind. This would be an awfully long night in the arms of a man she had once loved.
Author/Banshee Queen: "So? Good? Bad? Should I quit my day job?" :D