Chapter 3

The faded light of the evening began to turn to the gloomy grays of night as Aragorn ushered the woman and the boys into the tower, that they might have more of a semblance of privacy for the discussion that had to come next. The guards waited loyally by the door, saying nothing, their expressions impassive, and Aragorn knew they would believe and say nothing about this until he had told them what was true and what wasn't. Adalthain and Eregbor were both good men, and loyal to their King and their city, and the spreading of gossip and malicious rumors wasn't something they did without good cause. Aragorn nodded to both of them, and turned back to the woman. Arwen was silent, and when he looked at her he realized she wasn't sure what to believe. His heart sank, and he resolved to clear this up with her as soon as he could.

Gripping the pendant tightly in his hand, he turned to Vanira and said carefully, "My lady, it is true that this pendant was once mine, and around twelve years ago I stayed in a village by the name of Foulkes Rath with a woman named -"

"No!" he was cut off by the frantic cries of the two boys, whose heads had jerked up quickly.

"Don't say her name, you can't!" exclaimed the one called Iori. He was pale and trembling, but he didn't seem to realize that he had just cut off the King of Gondor mid-sentence… no, something else had terrified him far more than the consequences of disrespecting the King, and only Vanira seemed to realize what it was. She turned a scowl on both boys, along with a hiss of: "Silence! Don't interrupt the King!" Turning back to Aragorn, she explained swiftly, "It's not you, sire. His mother has not yet been dead a year, you see, and it is the custom of our people not to speak the name of those who have died until five years have passed since the date of their death."

"If you say her name, she won't find her way to the First Tree," Iori said, almost fearfully, though whether he feared that or Vanira more was anyone's guess. Cowering slightly away from her, he finished in a near-whisper, "Cause if anyone says her name, she'll want to stay here. She's got to go back to the First Tree, or her spirit will be stuck here for eternity."

Vanira's eyes narrowed. "Nonsense, Iori. That's a superstition of the villagers', but it's not true. Tavi, tell him to be quiet. I don't want to hear him being rude any more. One more word out of him, and he'll regret it."

It was at that moment that Aragorn knew he severely disliked and distrusted this woman. From where he was, he could clearly see the fear in the eyes of both boys, but especially in the one named Iori. The smaller boy swallowed hard, and ducked his gaze with a gulp, but Tavi's eyes narrowed with what seemed to be helpless anger at Vanira.

She brought a boy here, claiming he was the King's son, and then treated him like dirt under her shoe? Did she not see how contradictory her actions were? If not for the pendant, he would certainly refuse to believe her. No sane person treated one they believed to be the son of a King in such a manner, surely, and from the fear in the eyes of both boys it was clear this had been going on for quite some time now.

"My sister's name was Kitta Dreamshadow, your Majesty," said Vanira, matter-of-factly, as if she was getting tired of playing a game. Iori let out a choked moan, and the boy Tavi murmured something to him, rubbing his friend's shoulders and back in comforting circles. Aragorn could feel Arwen's gaze moving to the boys, but a moment later it darted back to him as he nodded reluctantly. Vanira had just confirmed his worst fears.

So his union with Kitta, his one night of weakness, had produced a son. But no, he needed one final bit of proof…

"If that is true," he said, slowly, unable to look at his wife even from the corner of his eyes, "then you must know the last thing I said to her?"

Vanira grinned slyly. "A test, sire? But of course. You told her two words in what I assume is some form of Elvish: 'Hebo estel'. I don't have any idea what that means, but you also told her that you could not give her what she sought, and that you were sorry… are you satisfied, my lord? Kitta bore your son some nine months after that, and now I have brought him here to claim his birthright. You see, I have been doing my research, and I know the laws of Númenor by which this entire kingdom is built. This throne is Iori's by order of birth. And if you honestly need more proof…Iori. Tavi. Did this or did this not belong to Kitta? Iori, was she not your mother?"

There was no threat whatsoever in her expression, but Aragorn couldn't help but think that Tavi at least would not be cowed enough to lie. The boy looked almost defiant, but finally he nodded and admitted: "She's worn that pendant for as long as I've known her."

Beside him, a tearful Iori nodded as well, saying shakily, "She was my mother, and I loved her, and…" He broke down, unable to continue. His muddy green gaze – and now Aragorn recalled that Kitta had had green eyes too – kept darting towards the sky outside, as seen through one of the hall's long windows. Swallowing and steeling himself, he choked out, "I hope she finds her way to the First Tree."

Then, turning to Vanira with a haunted look of pure terror and accusation: "How could you, Vanira?" And the grieving boy turned and fled from the hall.

Tavi muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a word that someone his age should not know. He started after Iori, but stopped again as Arwen moved forward.

"Meleth nín? Mas thelich baded?" At first, Aragorn thought she meant to go after the boy, but that idea was soon quelled by the expression on her face as she burst past the guards without answering him, and disappeared into the night, much as Iori had. Tavi, who'd been caught in mid-step, now finished his quick exit, going after his friend with determined strides.

And Vanira, looking faintly amused, gave Aragorn a smirk. "Oh dear," was all she said, and she seemed to enjoy the idea that she had caused so much upset in his court in such a short span of time.

With a sigh, his head all one big confused tangle of emotion and feelings, Aragorn summoned his guards to him, and they came at once.

"Eregbor, please take Lady Silkenwhisper to a room for the night," he requested tiredly. "Adalthain…" he hesitated a moment, before finishing, "Please find the two boys and do the same for them. I must find the Queen. And when you are done with that, please find Prince Imrahil and Lord Faramir and tell them to come to my study tonight. I must speak to them both about this new…incident."

The two fine examples of good and excellent guardsmen nodded, moving swiftly to obey their King without question. A faintly surprised Vanira was led off firmly in one direction, Eregbor apparently having picked up on his King's dislike of the woman, for he held her with the bare minimum of gentleness and seemed suddenly deaf to the lady's cross complaints. Adalthain went the other way, and Aragorn followed with a sigh and a sense of impending urgency. Arwen. He didn't know what she had gleaned from that conversation with Vanira, and he needed to talk to her, clear things up properly, explain himself. At the very least, he needed to apologize, but he could do none of these things until he had found her. Increasing his pace, he began pounding towards where he knew she had to be: in their private rooms, one of the few places here where she could find sanctuary.

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His foot throbbed as he limped over the thin covering of snow. A light snowfall had started, feathery flakes floating down from the sky to land on and around him. Tears blurred his vision, and within his mind was a memory of the only mother he had ever known.

Kitta. She had been mother to both him and Tavi, though only one of them had been a son of her flesh. The other had been adopted, taken in out of the kindness of her heart, which had definitely had enough love in it for two young boys. She'd loved them both so much that even when the villagers asked her which of them had been adopted, she'd laughed and said she'd forgotten – Iori had never forgotten that. It meant that she didn't care about blood – she loved them from her heart, and it didn't matter to her that one of them was a fosterling.

Of course, he had no doubt that she knew which of them was the son she had given birth to and which was taken in after the death of her best friend and her husband – mothers didn't forget things like that – but none of the villagers had pressed her anyway, and she'd never saw the need to broadcast which of them was which. Tavi and he were always her sons, and that was all there was to it.

Iori stopped walking. His leg throbbed anyway, and he knew Tavi would have come after him by now. He looked hopelessly at the sky. Even here, he could see the beginning of the First Tree starting to appear, glowing branches of color spreading out through the night sky in waves of star-fire. Was Kitta already there? If she was, then he needn't worry any more about Vanira saying her name aloud. But the elders said it could take a long time for a loved one's soul to make the journey into the safety of its boughs. What if she'd heard Vanira? What if she came back? Maybe she would think that Iori and Tavi needed her… and Iori felt like he did need her. But no, that would be selfish. Kitta didn't belong here any longer – she should go to the First Tree.

He heard the soft crunch of footsteps behind him, and didn't have to turn to know that Tavi had found him.

"We can take care of ourselves," he whispered, not to Tavi, but in the direction of the Tree in the sky. "We'll be okay. Please, don't come back. We don't need you any more. Go back. Stay away."

He felt Tavi's hand on his shoulder, a comforting weight on his skinny frame.

"She won't come back, Ior," the other boy said quietly. "I'm sure she won't."

Iori choked up a little. He looked at Tavi helplessly. "How can we be sure?"

"I'm sure." Tavi spoke with confidence. "I feel it in my heart."

The first touch of hope began in his heart. The other boy wouldn't say such a thing if it wasn't true. Tavi never lied. "You do?"

Tavi nodded. "She's all right, Ior. I'm sure of it."

And if Tavi said it was so, then it must be so. Iori nodded and swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. He continued to watch the First Tree. He wouldn't see Kitta if she was there, but it made him feel a little better to imagine she was. He refused to think about the rest of what had happened that day – his mind was, in its own way, still processing everything slowly, helping him to cope with all that Vanira had set into motion, all she had done and said. Tavi stayed with him, and so Iori felt no fear of the night.

And that was where Adalthain found them both a few minutes later, one boy watching the sky with an expression of peace on his tear-stained face, and the other watching his friend with affectionate devotion. The guard shook his head, amused and touched at the same time.

"Come on, lads," he said kindly. "The King has asked me to bring you both to a room for the night." He held out a hand, not really expecting anything, but after a moment or so the bigger of the two took it, and his friend followed suit with Adalthain's other hand. There was trust in both grips, and Adalthain couldn't help but think that, son of the King or not, there was something truly magical about earning the unguarded trust of a child.

These two didn't seem to realize how much would change in Gondor, if what that ice-woman said was true. Adalthain looked at the one called Iori, who was starting to shiver in the cool night breeze. The snow was falling heavier, and even though his clothes were new, he had no coat or wrap. The other one, Tavi, struggled along, his proud posture never wavering, though his skin was covered with goose pimples and turning pale and blue. The guard nodded thoughtfully to himself. "I don't suppose you two like warm milk and creamy biscuits?"

And the boys smiled. "Oh," said Iori, happily, giving Adalthain's hand a grateful squeeze.

"I think we can suffer through some of those," agreed Tavi, and Adalthain chuckled as he brought them into the warmth of the King's house, knowing that morning would bring what it would bring. But for now, these two were cold and tired and hungry, and he guessed that they had been through a lot. They didn't need the worry and stress, and he wouldn't give it to them. No, he would feed them, and settle them in, and then he would follow the rest of his King's instructions and go summon Prince Imrahil and the visiting Lord Faramir to King Elessar's study.

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Translations:

Meleth nín? Mas thelich baded? – My love? Where do you intend to go?

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Edited July 21st 2008 - Moved the notes here to the first page.

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Kudos,

RK9.