Part 2
With the rain hammering on the window from the rain, an intense rapid rhythm emphasised at times by the deep crashing of thunder the city of Minas Tirith was soaked in mere minutes. Rivers of water running down the paved streets from the mountain looming over the city, to the lower levels where a few unlucky ones would have found their roofs leaking and their houses not quite water tight.
So was it always in any city, though the as king Aragorn had done his best to ensure that all houses were at least liveable, even in those poorer sections that always exist. Shifting to glance to the window and the heavy darkness that shrouded the garden it overlooked a flash lit the whole room for a split second and he started easing the covers back, quiet, as he strove not to wake his wife. Elves were light sleepers at the best of times, and having a son seemed to have turned Arwen's hearing all the sharper.
Biting back a wince as a soreness made itself aware over most his body, though he looked a fairly young man still, he felt years more keenly. Trouble from long standing enemies was what had taken him away from Minas Tirith, together with Éomer, King of Rohan. Trouble that he would have hoped to have been over, but yet never seemed to be. They had been successful in quenching the attempt at breaching their border, but it had not been without a fight.
A few men had lost their lives, both Rohirrim and Gondorian, and the fact pained him even more than his own minor wounds. The worst he sustained had been a pulled muscle in his shoulder, and a cut from a sword that slipped under his guard. Anduril, the flame of the west, his sword was enough to bring fear to their enemies as they laid eyes on it. Gúthwinë, battle friend, the sword belonging to Éomer was not as widely known, but just as badly feared by those that knew it.
Few lasted long against it, but perhaps he thought, the armour his friend wore was not equal to the sword, for the cuirass had not fully withstood a blow from a heavy spiked mallet. Fortunately, the ribs had not been broken, but his side had displayed an impressive mass of colour when Aragorn tended to him.
It was enough so that both men felt the years they had lived even though they both knew they should have many left.
Now, as he put his feet to the floor and found his slippers, a luxury he would never have considered as a ranger, he turned to smile at his wife. Though she had not spoken her eyes were open and he knew she had been watching him.
"With the storm raging so, I thought it best I check on the boys," Éomer had brought his son Elfwine with him, as the boys certainly enjoyed spending the time together. There was little doubt of that, for as Elboron, who was with Faramir and Éowyn had been given the use of a sleeping chamber of his own, he did not wish to reside in it. He wanted to share with Eldarion, and Eldarion wanted his friends with him. Elfwine was yet small to be fully alone in a city that was not his home, but he would rather share with his cousin and his friend than with his father.
As he and Éomer were away, Aragorn knew the boys had taken great comfort from each other. While Elboron had the comfort of knowing that most often it was Aragorn and Éomer who left, while his father remained as Steward, he was also worried for his Uncle and the man he saw as an uncle. Something that Aragorn had come to enjoy greatly.
The three boys understood each other very well, they did not worry about shaming themselves for showing fear before the other boys.
"It might indeed have wakened them," Arwen stated as she looked to the window, seeing the way a bolt of lightning chased in forks across the clouded sky. "And if it has, they might very well be frightened."
"I would have done so yesterday, but I found I did not wake myself," he mused. "Neither of them said anything about having been awake, but then they were wearied out by the excitement. It might be harder for them tonight."
"If they are awake, bring them here," Arwent instructed. "Even should Éomer or Faramir wake to look in on them later, they will not be worried if they are not there."
"No, they shall know they have already been taken care of," Aragorn nodded. Pulling a soft robe around himself he slipped out of the bed chamber. One of the first few times Elboron slept in Eldarion's chambers, he had indeed woken from a bad dream. Eldarion at the time had not been comfortable knocking on Faramir's and Éowyn's door, so he had gone to his own parents with his young friend instead.
Ever since it had seemed natural for the three boys to simply pick the one they thought would be most approachable for the time being. Aragorn had found himself woken by either one at different times, and had never minded at all.
He slipped out into the corridor, and had to smile as he approached his son's bedchamber. Just coming out of the room, softly closing the door behind him was the King of Rohan, raising one eyebrow as he regarded his fellow ruler.
Well, Aragorn had to admit he was a little self conscious about the ornate robe and slippers he wore, seeing Éomer in only shirt and breeches. Barefoot on the cold stone floor though he seemed not to notice, while Aragorn certainly felt the slight chill through the thin sole of the slippers.
"They are all asleep," the blonde warrior stated.
"I am glad," Aragorn nodded. "With the storm so bad, I thought they might have woken from it."
"I should think they might have, if they had not been too wore out," the younger man chuckled lightly.
At a whisper of a sound behind them, both turned, and both smiled to see Faramir come towards them. Garbed as Aragorn in soft robe and slippers to ward off the chill from the cold stone tiles. "Storm must have been worse than I thought, if everyone is awake," the Steward mused.
"The boys are not, but everyone else would appear to be," Éomer snorted. "I would have thought at least one of you would have had sense enough to take your rest."
"I think, my friend, that you are not one to chastise us for not being asleep," Aragorn mused. "As I believe you were up well before us."
"Elfwine is fearful of storms such as this one," the blonde warrior shrugged.
"I did not think a proper Rohir, of any age, were fearful of anything," Faramir teased. "At least so I have been led to believe from my wife."
"A lightning storm on a dry summer has me unable to sleep from fear," the young King snorted. "And only a fool disregards the danger. I've seen the way a fire like that might rage, and it is not something to be taken lightly."
"It is not," Aragorn agreed sombrely. A bad fire in Edoras would cost people both their lives and their homes. The more that were on watch, the less the chance of it getting out of hand.
"And your wife is not one to say a word against it," added Éomer with a snort. "For she is the very pest that would tear me from my sleep at first sound of thunder when we were young. A slammed door was sometimes enough to send her to my chambers, and she would not let me sleep until she was well satisfied, even though she herself had no trouble doing so again. I am surprised she is not awake now, or is she the one that sent you?"
"Nay, she's wore out by the little one I think," Faramir shrugged. "I woke by my own, and I only felt I should make certain the boys were well before I took my bed again." Giving a wry grin he added. "I also felt it would be better should she wake. If she does, at the very least she'd send me to do so anyway. And at worst, my fate would have been much the same as you tell of, and I would have been put on watch for the rest of the night."
"I imagine you would," Éomer mused, though without even a note of sympathy. He had been bound to oblige his sister by the duty of an older brother. It was by all rights Faramir's turn to suffer from her whims now. "How long is this likely to go on?" he asked of his brother by law, knowing he knew the weather of Minas Tirith better than either he himself or Aragorn.
"At most, another day or two," Faramir shrugged. "They do not often last this long, but a bad one like this can. "Elboron tends to be frightened by them also, I had thought perhaps he would like to sleep in our chambers for the night. I truly did not expect to find him asleep, though he was a little weary through the day. Perhaps he is coming down ill," he added a tone of worry in his voice. Only to find his brother by law to laugh quietly.
"It was not any illness that saw him tired," Éomer grinned. "He and my own rascal woke Eldarion from their fear, and rather than drag one of us up, he saw fit to solve the problem himself, by distracting them with a kitchen raid. They all ate their fill and then some I should say, given by the spoils they had left behind them when they were done."
"I was not aware," Aragorn frowned. "Though we have certainly never told him he can not eat if hungry, the kitchen master usually lets me know if Eldarion has been there during the night."
"Aye, I saw no reason why the man needed to know, so I cleared it up a bit after them," Éomer shrugged. "Let them have a few secrets when they can, they're boys, and they do not get up to near enough mischief I think."
"I do not know if we need encourage them to bad behaviour, but a few snatched morsels of food I would not call such," Aragorn mused. He should not be surprised that it was Éomer who had woken the night before. The young warrior had lost none of his alertness from his days as a rider, and he was ever even more attentive to the needs of the children. "I am however glad they were able to find some comfort in it. Though I would just as soon he had woken me and I could have tended to them."
"Eldarion knows he could have, and would have if he felt it needed," Éomer shrugged. "He enjoys taking the role of the elder too much to always relinquish it easily if he do not need to, and as devoted as he is to the other two, I have never seen a reason not to allow it. He does you proud Aragorn, they are all good boys."
"That they are," Faramir agreed. "And I would go as far as to say they might have had the right idea. I know I would rather take a moment before seeking my bed again, I can think of worse ways to spend the time than to find a honey cake."
"That surprises me not," Aragorn laughed softly. His Steward's sweet tooth was something he was well familiar with. "What say you, my brother?" to his knowledge, a Rohir rarely turned down the opportunity for something to eat. They usually claimed one should always eat when given the opportunity, for one never knew when it would come again.
"I say we had best not let your Steward raid the kitchen unguarded, or there shall not be anything sweet left ere the morning," Éomer snorted. "Though I would not call myself unwilling to find out if ought were left of that roast beef that was served. You spend far too much time on making fancy meals in Gondor. Though I will grant you that your cooks do know how to make a good hardy fare tantalising as well."
In that, they were as alike as they were unlike one another Aragorn mused with a smile. Faramir had a great love for anything sweet, and was particularly fond of the honey cakes. Even so, any of the many sweet desserts and dishes would tempt him, and would frequently overpower his sense of duty and propriety with but the smallest encouragement. Éomer had little wish for the sweet and fancy dishes, though instead was easily tempted by such simple meals as meat and cheese piled high on bread and a tankard of ale. A plate of the various cold cuts of meat would indeed tempt him just as much as the berry tarts tempted Faramir.
As for himself, he would wager he would find more than one thing he might fancy in that large pantry in the kitchen. "Then let us not tarry," he decided. "For we shall find more and better if we head there now, than if we wait until the kitchen staff is up."
Leading the way Aragorn grinned as they entered the immense kitchen. It was truly something to behold, with not just one fire pit for a spit, but three, and several wood stoves and ovens for baking. There were cauldrons large enough to fit a man inside, and the room was pleasantly fragranced not only from the food but from the many bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling.
It was all too easy for the three of them to enter the pantry at the same time, and soon plates were piled high with what titbits looked the most enticing. A soft delicate bread, white of colour and filled with fruit and honey, cold cuts of not only roast beef but honey glazed ham and beef pies. Aragorn found a bottle of wine to share with Faramir, while Éomer filled a tankard of beer.
It was then that Aragorn looked around the room, and took note the kitchen staff would indeed soon be up. While no one would think to stop the King and his Steward from indulging themselves with their guest, there were disadvantages to trying to take the meal in the kitchen as the staff sought to work. The master chef seemed to always wish to impose his own ideas of what the meal should consist of, and they did not always align themselves with Aragorn's preferences. Certainly not his preferences for an impromptu midnight meal.
"We should not tarry here I think," he mused. "Or we shall soon find that that which you would enjoy the most should be exchanged for potatoes, fruits and carrots…"
"We can not risk waking Éowyn, or she shall likely send us to go back with it all," Faramir mused.
"Arwen would not be so cruel, but she might not approve entirely of our choices," Aragorn mused as he regarded the plates.
"Unless the boys have woken and chosen to invade while I was gone, my chambers shall be empty," Éomer shrugged. "And if they have, I'd say we have enough for them as well."
"A very good solution, lead the way," Aragorn beamed as he balanced his spoils. Though he knew he would be beyond reproach, he was still glad they were not seen on their way back, for he was not certain if they presented the picture of dignity, in naught but robes and slippers, or breeches and barefoot. It was certainly not how most their subjects thought of their kings.
Slipping into the King of Rohan's chambers and depositing their burden of temptation onto a sturdy table, to be divided and shared in camaraderie, he was glad for the opportunity. It was rare these days to be only Aragorn, and not the ruler of Gondor. He would imagine that Éomer knew only too well that feeling, and enjoyed the same respite for himself. Though Faramir had been raised the son of the Steward and prepared for the duties, it had always been Boromir who was expected to take the duty. The same as Éomer had always believed he would live to serve Théodred as the King of Rohan.
They had all three been cast into the fray to fill positions they had never desiered, to perform a duty they had never thought they would be worthy of, and he knew they three sometimes doubted their success at the task.
To then have a few moments free of such heavy responsibility and doubt, to enjoy the respite while the thunder boomed outside and lightning chased across the darkened sky, was indeed a moment to be treasured greatly.
All the more so when it, as the food was eagerly shared between the closest of friends…
End Part 2
TBC
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