This is a translation of part #6 of one of my longest finished German fanfiction series. I am not a native speaker and apologize for any mistakes. The "Tales Untold"-series focuses much on Aragorn, Legolas and their respective relationships, but there's lots of other important plot lines coming into play, one of the biggest revolving around Glorfindel and Erestor.
The series combines the book verse with some circumstances from the movieverse, it ignores all of three of the Hobbit movies though (I wrote most of this series before those movies even were a thing). It's slightly non-compliant in places but I'm always trying to keep close to canon.
"Of hopes and broken dreams" is set a few weeks after the War of the Ring.
Comments are more than welcome. I'm thirsting for them like so many others.
WHAT HAPPENED SO FAR:
Legolas has been loved a young healer elf from Lórien named Tarisilya for a thousand years. For political reasons, the relationship was a secret until after the War of the Ring. After the Battle of the Black Gate, at Cair Andros, Aragorn healed both Tarisilya from almost fading and Arwen from a bad injury that has likely left her infertile. Aragorn and she together with Legolas and Tarisilya traveled to Imladris where Arwen's family tried to further heal her. Legolas and Tarisilya got married in Imladris, and Tarisilya became pregnant. On the ride back, the group got involved in a fight of the Rohirrim against orcs and Uruk-hai that resulted in Tarisilya losing the baby. Upon his return to Minas Tirith, Aragorn learned that in his absence, a group of enemies named Stewardaides had formed who rather want to see Faramir rule Gondor.
Erestor and Glorfindel meanwhile have been trying for a while now to deal with the realization that there's far more than physical attraction between them. After the war, Erestor was meant to join Glorfindel in Imladris' army for their last years on Middle-earth, but upon learning about the Stewardaides, Elrond asked Erestor to come to Minas Tirith with him and help Aragorn solve this crisis.
It started to feel like it was Arwen's fate to constantly be confronted with brides who looked as if their own funeral was upon them.
In Imladris back then, she'd already had to convince Tarisilya first that the day of her friend's wedding with Legolas was not a time for old grief and worries about the future. When shortly after their return to Minas Tirith, Faramir's betrothed showed up at the court lady chambers that had been assigned to Arwen for now, to stand by her in her transition period, she was strikingly reminded of that morning in one of her father's guest houses.
Actually, it was her father whom she'd expected to come to see her since a servant had surprisingly reported Elrond's presence in the city to her a few minutes ago. But apparently, he was still too busy with whatever had caused him to follow Aragorn and Arwen to Gondor so rashly instead of traveling here for Aragorn's upcoming coronation on short notice.
Instead, there was a tall Rohiril with endless light blonde hair and storm blue, round, childlike eyes standing in front of her, a woman considered to be a pearl among her folk without a doubt, only she didn't show it much. Her simply cut dress seemed unenthusiastic, her skin pale and blotchy. And she was most notably much too thin as if she didn't have much appetite for food.
Sure, Éowyn had suffered bad injuries fighting on the Pelennor Fields in the War of the Ring, together with so many of her people, and Arwen had learned from Aragorn that her recovery in the Houses of Healing had been very lengthy and exhausting. But that didn't seem to be all. Éowyn's shoulders seemed hunched, as if she had personally reconstructed Minas Tirith in the last weeks, all by herself, while Aragorn and Arwen had gone on their long journey to the west. Her absent-minded expression didn't allow for much warmth.
And her face only seemed to darken when she could look at Arwen from up close for the first time. She doubtfully looked Arwen's haggard, leather traveling clothes over that were clearly revealing that since returning from that journey, Arwen had hardly had time yet to get settled. "Greetings. It does look a little like my betrothed sent me here for a reason."
"Greetings, Lady Éowyn." Arwen hurried to show the implied bow towards other nobles that her status as the daughter of one of the oldest elvish realm leaders demanded, trying to ignore the little dig. She didn't know Éowyn at all yet and had a hard time judging how the woman meant her words. "I'll hardly be able to make it up to you that you're taking time for me so shortly before your wedding. I'm sure you have a lot to do. Thank you very much."
"It brings a little more fuss, yes, but I am honored. The woman by the King's side shall want for nothing." Éowyn didn't go into that any further though. "Would you please allow me to look at your wardrobe for a moment? The court of Gondor is happy to cover the expenses of its residents always dressing according to etiquette. For that, they need to know in the tailoring shop what needs to be done though."
"There's not much to see. Most of my belongings from my old home in Imladris will only arrive here by carriage in a few days."
Reacting to the subtle distance the other was radiating, Arwen stepped aside a bit, so Éowyn could reach the cabinet that Arwen had put the few pieces of clothing she'd brought in. Except for a couple of resilient dresses, tops, and two tight breeches, nothing much could be found there. That was all she had dragged back here from her trip to Imladris. Now that she was living at a court again though, even it was one of the Men's, she had to present herself properly; as a ruler's daughter, of course, she was being aware of that too.
"Yes, there are some basics missing here." Éowyn turned away with a sigh. "Is it possible for you to come with me for a moment? If proper dresses are supposed to be ready at the festivities, the tailors have to work quickly."
"Several dresses at once? Good thing there is some time left then. Your wedding won't be for another while, will it?" With a questioning glance, Arwen hurried after Éowyn who ran ahead through the halls purposefully.
"His Majesty Aragorn will be crowned King in a few days." That was all Arwen was told for the time being.
It was enough to blindside her already. Neither Aragorn nor she had expected this ceremony so quickly. That seemed to turn into just as overhasty a matter as Éowyn's wedding.
And Arwen knew that it would hurt her beloved very much that due to this rapid planning, one of his best friends would probably not be able to be there. On their way back here, Legolas and Tarisilya had decided to stay in Rohan for a while, after a terrible catastrophe had happened in the course of the Gap Assassination that Tarisilya would first have to recover from for a while.
Arwen was very interested in what had caused this development, given her companion's quietness though, she refrained from asking. She preferred to stay silent as well until they arrived at an outbuilding in the ring around the Citadel and Éowyn pointed through the door with a slight nod.
The master-tailor, a slightly elderly man, greeted them both with a deep bow. "Lady Éowyn, I am happy to see you. Do you want to see the progress of your wedding dress?"
"Oh no, I trust your abilities completely. It's about this she-elf. As you probably already know, Lady Arwen will live at the court from now on, and by the King's side as his wife in the foreseeable future. However, her belongings are still on their way here. So we need replacements to make it through the next few days. Our ruler's future wife shouldn't be seen like this in the Citadel."
Éowyn regarded Arwen with an apologetic shrug, but she put her of.
Though she could have easily spoken for herself and found Éowyn's mild gruffness a little disconcerting … It hadn't been easy for the young woman recently. And as a representative of her people in a foreign country, she was surely being exposed to a lot of pressure, a situation that Arwen could relate to well. The two of them would have much to do with each other in the future. They should try to not let any hostility arise from the start already. Once the biggest stress of the upcoming events had subsided, there would still be enough time to become friends.
Trying to be understanding became harder by the second though, given how the other was behaving right now.
"Just like the rest of the royal household, Lady Arwen will be present at the coronation of course; for that, she definitely needs a fitting dress. And I'm not entirely sure how proper the fashion of Rivendell might turn out to be for these lands. You might have a little more work to do in the next few months."
Fortunately, Arwen didn't even have to make an argument to defend her kin; the tailor beat her to that. "No need to worry about that, Lady Éowyn. From all I've seen of the elves' elegance and their love for aesthetics, I'm sure, our future Queen will surprise us all in the best way."
The tailor returned Arwen's heartfelt smile, then eyed her discreetly from head to toe and guided her to the middle of the room, to a small footstool, with an inviting gesture. "An extremely beautiful vision indeed, like every elf I was blessed to lay eyes on so far. Our new King once more proves his good instincts. Come on now. We do have to make a little haste."
He took a measuring tape from one of the many dressers lining the walls and started to pull Arwen into one position after the other, gently but without asking even once, unmindful of her embarrassed expression. In Imladris, such measuring had always been conducted by she-elves; accordingly, this quickly made her feel uncomfortable.
"Please stand straight. Lady Arwen. I do have to know your body, or your dress won't fit right. I can't work by eye alone."
"You could just tell me how to move, you know." Still disapproving, Arwen wanted to add something in annoyance, but she was being cut off.
"I said, stand straight. And please hold your breath for a moment, or you'll muddle the results." The tailor blew one the quite messy, grey curls falling down his forehead out of the way and scribbled eagerly on a small parchment before wrapping the tape around her body once more.
Seeking help, Arwen threw Éowyn a glance, who was restlessly pacing through the workshop though, her thoughts visibly already being anywhere but here once again.
"I'm afraid, you'll have to go through that regularly soon. If I may give you another advice, Lady Arwen: Better stop wearing breeches like this once the dresses are finished. For a Lady of Gondor, it is not proper to be run around in those in everyday life. I would also be happy to show you how women usually tie up their hair in this realm. But we'll take care of all of that one by one in the next few days one, don't worry. You'll also surely be provided with a personal handmaid soon who'll help you with everything daily."
She took some fabric from one of the long tables and held it up. "How about this one for the dress?"
"Yellow?" Arwen pulled a doubtful grimace.
At least now, the tailor came to her rescue again. "No, no, Lady Éowyn. She needs punchier colors. Her black hair will make them downright glow. With your blonde curls, of course, brighter nuances like this fit you far better."
The man took a look around at the chaotically cluttered tables himself and clicked his tongue gleefully. "That one back there." He pointed at something bright green and almost transparent and looked Arwen's hair over in affirmation once more. "With darker stitching on the seams, it will look truly marvelous."
"I really should start to trust your judgment unconditionally. Like much other handiwork that women are usually supposed to do, decorating has never been one of my strong suits."
With a self-ironic shrug, Éowyn folded the linen again, slightly sloppily, and stepped closer to Arwen. "Have you already learned how the coronation will go for you?"
"For me? I'm just a guest at the court for the moment, right?" Arwen wanted to shake her head in confusion, but again, a hoarse male voice hissed at her that she should please keep still.
"Unfortunately. That's the problem, yes. So far, in most people's heads, you only exist as a rumor, at most. So until the King officially asks for your hand in marriage, you have to keep your distance from him to avoid gossip. At the ceremony, talking, in general, is strictly forbidden to anyone present, no matter how close they are to our new ruler. The former court advisors have been very clear about that." Éowyn made a bit of a face. It was obvious, such patronization pleased her least herself.
"Afterwards, there'll be a splendid feast. There as well you should only talk to the King if he addresses you. and until then, we should work a little on your pronunciation, and on the phrases common in Gondor for conversation. Though Sindarin is broadly spoken in the royal circles of these lands: At such gatherings, common people, in particular, will expect you to perfectly know Westron, too."
Now Arwen was running out of patience. She didn't even have a doubt that Éowyn meant well, given how eager the woman was when she wasn't just busy daydreaming about her upcoming wedding. But it was obvious, the young Rohiril had had little to do with elves in her life in person so far. She probably didn't even realize how far off the mark her words were right now, how hurtful a few of her assumptions were.
"I know the language of Men very well, and I also know how to have a conversation." Arduously composed, Arwen panted out her words, trying in vain to not flare up too much.
No, of course, she hadn't internalized the various Secondborn dialects as perfectly as Aragorn, for example, because in spite of her long lifetime, she had only rarely lived in realms of Men for too long at a stretch. But she was fluent enough in the most common tongues and had almost no accent. No matter how unconsciously it might happen, she really didn't have to put up with someone belittling her like that, someone being a stranger in this country herself no less.
Éowyn promptly blushed, apparently realizing what kind of affront she'd just done. "Please forgive me, Lady Arwen, I didn't suppose differently. I just wasn't sure … They told me, thanks to your courage and your combat strength, you'd mostly stayed in the soldier circles of your people. So I thought, customs in Gondor might be foreign to you so far. And the strict court etiquette is just very important, so people will honor the house and don't lose their faith in the line of Kings right away, that they've only just rediscovered." Embarrassed, Éowyn played with a strand of her hair.
"Well, at least you don't seem to be a stranger to soldier manners. If you'd spent more private time with your warriors though, instead of sneaking into Rohan's armies without permission on the Pelennor Fields last minute, you might have a higher opinion of fighters." Arwen had definitely had enough.
Upset, she pushed the hand of the tailor aside who had just wanted to measure the length of her arm, meaning to step down from the footstool and hurry back to her chambers.
But the craftsman held up his hands in reassurance, both in her and in Éowyn's direction.
"Lady Éowyn, I'm sure you still have many things to prepare for your big day. I will arrange for Lady Arwen to be accompanied back to her chambers as soon as I'm done here. A wedding like yours requires a lot of effort, doesn't it?"
"At least there's someone noticing that." Visibly relieved, the young woman nodded at the man and left the tailor shop with her head low, after muttering an abashed greeting to Arwen.
Arwen watched her leave angrily and then dropped onto the footstool.
With a lenient laugh, the tailor shook his head. "Brides. I assure you, she's usually not like that at all. Actually, she's become quite popular at the court thanks to her dedicated and caring heart. But since due to the wedding, she's surrounded by so many new servants, all of them asking something different from her, everyone else avoids her if they can. It will wear off. There's at least as many expectations weighing her down as they do on you. Come on, I'll make us some tea first, and we figure out how your dress and the rest of the things are supposed to look. Because as far as I'm concerned, I'm very much in favor of the fashion roots of your descent still shaping your appearance going forward. People will have an elvish Queen, don't be afraid to show them that. And afterward, I'll tell you what things are really like at this court. If court ladies come to you for fittings every day, sometimes you hear more than you even want to know."
Arwen felt still snubbed but the man's open smile revealed the honesty of his words, so she let him help her up. "It seems I will be in need of your impressions indeed. The helper originally assigned to me seems to become an involuntary obstacle instead."
Saddened, she looked out to the streets through one of the man-high windows. She'd not even been here for a full day, and there were already such big misunderstandings. She would have loved to talk to Aragorn or her father about this, but those two would have other worries right now than comforting her. While Arwen had suspected that it wouldn't be easy in the beginning, being a Firstborn alone among Men: That her first attempt had already ended with her running into a wall, gave her pause.
Since Arwen had now more or less charmingly been warned about being in Aragorn's immediate proximity too often right now, both by the Steward and his betrothed, and since she hadn't seen a trace either of him or of Elrond in the last few days, the last thing she had expected was someone knocking at her chamber doors on the morning before the coronation. The sun hadn't even really come up yet … and when she sleepily opened the door, a remarkably carelessly clothed future King was standing before her.
She took a quick look around the hall to see if anyone was nearby, sighing a breath of relief when she couldn't spot anyone. "I didn't even expect to see you today unless it was from 30 feet away. Do you want to come inside for a moment? Doorstep conversations are so uncomfortable."
"Too dangerous," he replied with a weak smile. "But I really wanted to come to see you before the whole turmoil starts, Arwen." The way he was looking at her threatened to break her heart for a moment, tried to take her breath away; that was how much sadness he radiated. After all the conversations with his future advisors in the last few days, had he maybe already made a decision regarding their relationship after all, that her current condition would make so difficult? What if he'd only come here to send her away?
Apparently her incomprehension, her budding fear was showing, because her beloved immediately grabbed her hand and pressed a tender kiss to it. It was alright. Nothing was different between them.
"I just don't know when we'll get a chance to be alone next, that's all." At a closer look, Arwen could see the restless worry in Aragorn's eyes. They kept moving around in a way they hadn't yet at their arrival. Whatever it was, it had probably kept him awake in the last few nights. Under his thick dark beard, his cheeks seemed a little hollowed. Occasionally, he let out a furtive yawn. "The next few days will be filled nonstop with things that won't allow any thought regarding myself. We will have to be a little patient before we can be there for each other again. I just want you to know …"
Falling silent, Aragorn raised his hand to Arwen's face and caressed her cheek, then leaned forward to kiss her tenderly, just for a few seconds, but it was enough to chase away this coldness of loneliness in her heart at least for the moment. This new time of waiting for each other, too, would pass, even though it was more frustrating than ever because they would even be living in the same place this time.
Before the grip of his hand on her waist could become dangerously firm or their kiss too deep, her beloved heavy-heartedly turned away and left Arwen standing there without a word of good-bye. Apparently, that wasn't anything more to say about this for now.
Or about the tears in Arwen's eyes that she had a hard time holding back. No matter how confused she felt, and even though she itched to run after Aragorn: She was pretty sure that one of the many things unbecoming for a lady of the court was to show up at a coronation tearstained.