If none of the fans of this story read this update I don't blame them. I am so sorry for the long absence. I have no good excuse except that I've been swamped at work and completely unmotivated in other areas of my life. If you do read this, I hope you enjoy it and forgive me.

Chapter Eight (Mareke)

The change in my son was immediate. He had only been with the traditional tutors for a few weeks, but as soon as he began working with Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn he became a brand new child.

While he had worked with the old tutors and sat in a classroom all day, he had been groggy and grumpy in the mornings when I was briefly allowed to see him. After Aragorn had made changes to Adnan's schedule, he had also made changes to mine. My son and I were allowed to enjoy a leisurely breakfast together before one of his new tutors would come and fetch him.

Adnan would talk and talk to me about what he had learned the previous day. Another one of Aragorn's initiatives had been having Adnan eat dinner with other young boys his age. He had arranged it with some of the younger, more open-minded noblemen and advisors who had sons close to Adnan's age. Every evening they came to the royal nursery and were served dinner together where they all worked on their courtly manners.

So far I had not entertained anyone, but I was hosting a trial dinner with Legolas, Gimli, and the King.

Lady Ioreth was still around, though she had spoken with the King and was quite aware of the new arrangement of things. She was not happy, but she could not refute the King or what he wanted. Whilst preparing for my trial dinner, I was actually grateful for her presence. She helped me select the food and drink that would be served. I found it amazing that she was able to keep all cultures in mind so that my dinner would be satisfactory to everyone present.

"This is quite a difficult trial run," she mused. "Normally, there are only Men present, but tonight we must make a Dwarf and an Elf happy as well."

I did not think that Legolas or Gimli would ever voice their displeasure, though of course I did not want them to be displeased. I had been around them a good deal of time since they had taken over much of my son's care.

Most of the time my afternoon's seemed to drag on until I could see my son again, but the day of the dinner seemed to speed past me in all of my nervous energy. I could not understand the nervousness. So far, though I had not met many people in Minas Tirith, I had met no one more friendly and welcoming than Legolas and Gimli.

When it came time to get dressed, I was nervous as well. Aragorn and I had discussed what was to be done with my wedding gown, but most of my wardrobe was going to be changed as well. I had not yet worn anything in the new style that I had created. My time in Minas Tirith would be difficult enough as it was, but there I was acting as Aragorn's battering ram against centuries old customs and traditions.

I pulled a flowing midnight gown from my wardrobe and laid it on my bed, surveying it with my hands on my hips.

I could feel Lady Ioreth standing behind me, disapproving. For once I thought that we might be thinking the same thing. It would be so much easier for me to ask her to lace me up into one of the tight and heavy dresses that I had been wearing since my arrival in the North.

It did not matter what I wore to the dinner with the King, Legolas, and Gimli. They were men, they did not care and would probably only barely notice the social consequences. But even though there would be no backlash from the dinner companions I was to have that night, I could only imagine what would happen when I appeared at an official state function in front of a crowd of hundreds looking such a way.

I gave a resigned sigh and let my robe drop before pulling a silk slip over my head and then the dress. Compared to the constricting and stuffy dresses I had been wearing, the comfort of the new garment was overwhelming.

"Perhaps we can compromise on the hair and makeup," Lady Ioreth said when I turned to face her.

I gave her a gentle smile. The more I was around her, I could understand that it would be difficult to go through what she was experiencing. She was much older than I and had lived in her society for her entire life. To see it change was something that I understood deeply.

I gave her a small nod and let her lead me to my vanity where she began to finger curl my hair. After telling her several times that using a brush on the wild curls was not the way to go she had finally learned how to style it to her liking.

When she was done it was in an elegant knot at the nape of my neck. Applying the makeup did not take any time at all compared to what it had in the past. When I looked she had only applied a bit of kohl to my eyes (which wasn't done in Gondor, but in Harad) and some color to my cheeks and lips.

"From the moment I saw you, I did not think you needed to wear so much," Lady Ioreth said with a gentle smile.

"Thank you," I said. I was deeply touched at her effort.

I stood in front of the mirror in the corner of my bedroom and surveyed myself. The dress was neither from Gondor nor Harad, though it had aspects of both. There were not constraining undergarments, but it kept the modesty of the Gondoran fashion. From Harad it had the loose, flowing material, but exposed no skin.

"Your guests will be arriving soon," she said, guiding me toward the door that led into the sitting room. Decanters of wine had been placed on the table in the corner and there was also a small cask of beer there, I assumed for Gimli.

"You will be fine," she said, disappearing as the door opened. When I turned back from watching her leave, the men were being announced.

Aragorn led them in and I offered a deep curtsy and greeted the Elf and Dwarf in turn.

As gracefully as I could, I poured three goblets of wine and a mug of ale before gesturing for everyone to sit down.

I felt Aragorn's eyes on me and when I met them he gave a small smile.

"Your new dress is very becoming," he said.

"Thank you," I murmured.

In that instance, I feared that I would spend the rest of my life in such an aloof and detached marriage. I could expect no more than that and since that was the case I wished that I had never known anything different.

ooooOoooo

We had been married for almost a year and had attended so many state functions. War was coming and Jibran and my father were hosting leaders from all over Harad trying to convince them to join together and fight in the North as one Realm. It had become routine to don all of my finery and go to these dinners on the arm of my husband.

I was learning toward the mirror in my room trying to attach a gold chain from my nose ring to an earring when I heard the door open.

I did not even have to glance over to see who had entered the bedroom. No one ever came in besides Jibran and I.

He did not say a word to me, but wrapped his arms around my middle and studied me in the mirror for a long moment, his hands going to the waist of my skirt, his rough skin scratching over my smooth stomach.

"How do you get more attractive with each dinner we attend?" He asked in a low voice.

I tried to fight it because I knew we were short on time, but my body only wanted to melt into him.

"Jibran," I sighed, trying to feign impatience, trying to free myself from his arms, but they only tightened around me.

"I am serious," he said, moving my hair away from neck and kissing my throat. His hands had slipped into my skirt, grasping my hips.

"We do not have time," I said, still trying to pull away before it was too late.

Jibran laughed softly, his breath tickling my ear so that I tucked my chin to my chest and squirmed in his grip.

"At the risk of sounding arrogant, I do not think they will start the dinner nor the negotiations without me."

"I am already dressed," I complained, still faking my displeasure.

"I do so love when you look a little jostled. Just the littlest bit. It is like a secret only you and I know. You would not deprive me of something that I love, would you?"

It was true. We had these encounters before nearly every dinner we attended. I imagined that it gave his confidence a boost, though that was far from necessary.

I looked in the mirror at his handsome face. I was fooling myself if I thought I could turn him down.

Jibran's dark eyes bore into mine and I reached behind me to stroke his long, dark hair and tanned cheek, finally pulling his face down to mine for a kiss.

He turned me to face him and moaned into my mouth. His hands burned trails down my back and along my sides, until one buried itself in my mess of curls and pulled my head back so he could press his lips and tongue to my neck. His other hand found its way under my very small top, pushing it so that all of my chest was exposed to him.

"To think you thought you could turn me down," he whispered. My knees went weak at the sound of his voice.

"Do not rumple my skirts," was all I could think to say.

"Worry not," he said as he grabbed behind my thighs and lifted so I was sitting on the edge of my vanity counter.

Jars and vials quaked and fell over behind me, one rolled to the edge of the counter and fell with a shattering crash.

Jibran's hair created a curtain as he bent and shoved my skirts around my waist, before pushing his loose pants down just enough for the act he was bent on pursuing. At that point I could not act like it was only him with such a need.

"I do not know why you must continue to do this to me," he growled into my neck. "We could lose allies. We could lose a war all because of your body."

I was too far gone to pay attention to the words coming out of his mouth. I no longer cared what he had to say.

My head fell back with a cry as he entered me forcefully. Another crash came from another bottle, that time of perfume as my husband rhythmically made love to me. The scent of sandalwood wafted up to us.

"Mareke," he moaned my name as my ankles crossed behind his back not allowing him so much room; keeping him within close range.

It did not take much longer for Jibran to finish and step away from me.

"Now hurry," he said, swatting my behind as I went to clean up and readjust my hair and clothes.

"As though this were my fault," I laughed.

"If I had a less appealing wife this would not be an issue."

I shook my head. No one had ever called me a beauty and I had never felt very beautiful until Jibran and I married. I had wondered what it would be like to be one of the attractive women like my mother. It was very confusing when Jibran began treating me as though I was one of them.

"I am ready," I finally decided, after adjusting my top a final top. Jibran offered his arm and we made our way to the reception hall where our guests would be waiting with my father before dinner.

I was introduced to everyone upon our entrance and Jibran began to make his apologies for our tardiness.

"He is being kind to me, trying to take the blame," I said quickly. "I am at fault. I lost track of time trying to look my best for you all, our distinguished guests."

The men all laughed. "We are glad you did. You look wonderful, Princess."

When we sat down to dinner, me on Jibran's left side, he mouthed "thank you" to me while his hand traced the inside of my thigh.

ooooOoooo

"Princess," Legolas said to me. I shook my head and dragged my eyes to his, coming out of my reverie.

"I am so sorry," I said quickly.

"Quite alright," he said with a kind smile. "I was just saying how quickly Adnan is taking to our Sindarin lessons."

"Is he?" I asked, a genuine smile playing on my lips.

"He is. It seems as though the direct conversation route is a better fit for your son than the lectures on verbs."

"I am most thankful for your hard work with him," I said looking both at Legolas and Gimli in turn.

"He is very bright," Gimli agreed. "He just needed to channel his energy in a more efficient manner."

I nodded in agreement.

As we moved into my private dining room for dinner, I let the men's conversation stray away from anything I could participate in. They talked of politics and rumors of unrest in parts of Middle Earth.

I thought of my late husband and our home and what it was all supposed to have been. My eyes found their way to Aragorn. It would not be the same with him.

He was a different man altogether than the one my husband had been. There had been a fire constantly burning within Jibran, but the King of Gondor seemed to be filled more with ice. The War and the loss of his love, I sensed, had left him a shell of a man who did not fit where he had been placed.

"You are quiet, Your Grace," Gimli said to me as the first course was served.

Once more I had to force myself back to the present.

"To tell you the truth, Master Dwarf, I was, and still am, quite nervous for this evening," I admitted, though truthfully that is not where my thoughts had been.

"Nervous? For what reason?"

"I have not entertained anyone yet. Only the King and he is very amicable and not much displeased."

"Well I am afraid that we are a terrible trial run," the dwarf responded.

"Are you displeased with something, Master Dwarf?" I asked.

"Only that you keep calling me 'Master Dwarf.' I would prefer to be called Gimli if we are going to be friends." Gimli gave me a smile. "No we are not a good trial run because we are content with anything and everything."

I laughed. "Well then this is not good practice."
"It is not, I am afraid, but we can still enjoy ourselves."

"I like that suggestion," I agreed.

Everyone dug into their food as it continued to be set on the table. I was glad that I had had Lady Ioreth to help me with the menu. Everyone was pleased even though my guests were of various different tastes.

"How you managed to please an Elf and a Dwarf at the same table, I cannot begin to fathom," Gimli said with a low laugh.

I nodded. It was a feat. Legolas had filled his plate with vegetables and fruit, while Gimli had piled his with meat and potatoes.

"I had some help, I must admit."

Aragorn did not address me throughout dinner. He did not seem rude, just not particularly interested. I do not know why it bothered me so much. I had not expected such treatment from my husband-to-be. The man was a stranger. I did not think that I wanted to give him much of my attention either, but at every turn I found myself comparing my life then to what it had been in Harad. We were to be married in less than six months and the thought merely struck me as bizarre.

Gimli continued to keep me entertained throughout the evening and I was glad for his presence. While Legolas was kind, the Dwarf was humorous and more outgoing. He truly was a wonderful person and I thought how lucky my son was to have him around.

When the men stood to leave, I rested my hand on Gimli's shoulder staying him for one moment longer. "I am truly grateful that you agreed to be so helpful with my son. After all of the change in his short life he can sometimes retreat into his own world and leave us behind here. I have already seen him becoming more animated and I think I owe a great deal of that to you."

Gimli shook his head. "No, Princess, it is I who am grateful for the company of your son."

"Are you coming, Aragorn?" Legolas asked as they headed for the door.

"Not yet," he responded.

I wondered what he could possibly want to speak of.

"Very well," Legolas nodded. "Goodnight to the both of you."

We returned the sentiment and were left standing alone in my sitting room.

"Your first dinner was a success," Aragorn mused.

"I had easy guests."

"So you did, but there is no doubt in my mind that you can do the same with others."

"I hope so."

We stood there awkwardly with not much to say.

"I think I know the answer, but I must ask for the sake of propriety. Can I offer you something else to drink?"

Aragorn shook his head. "No, I am alright thank you. Do not feel as though you have to entertain me."

"Very well," I continued to stand there. If I was not supposed to entertain him what was I supposed to do with him.

After a few more long moments, he moved toward the door.

"I suppose I should retire for the evening," he said.

I nodded. "Thank you for coming to dinner."

"Of course. As I said, I thought it quite the success." With that, he walked through the door to the rest of the royal wing and closed the door gently behind him.

I waited a few moments longer before I made my way to the nursery. Adnan would be done with his dinner by then and I could spend a while with him before he was to be in bed.

I pushed the door open and saw my son sitting in the corner of the room with the elaborate block set that had been waiting for him when we had arrived in Minas Tirith.

He stood immediately when he saw me and gave a very stiff, practiced bow. "Mother," he said.

I had to smile at my little courtesan. When he was of an age I would tell them that he could stop acting so in private, but he had to learn.

After his bow, he broke into a grin and threw his arms around my middle.

"What are you building?" I asked, as I sat down on the opposite side of his construction project.

"Our home in Harad," Adnan replied, gently placing a block on one of the walls he had already built. "But I'm having trouble remembering what it looks like."

Another piece of my heart splintered off, but I remained cheerful for my son's sake.

"Let me help you," I said, pulling a few blocks toward me and building the watchtower that had been in the center of the walls and the courtyard.

"Will we ever go back home, Mama?" He asked quietly, focusing on his project.

I did not answer for a moment. It took his brown eyes meeting mine for a response to form. "Of course we will, Adnan. Do not think otherwise. That is your home still."

"Then what is Minas Tirith?"

"It is possible to have more than one home."

"How?" He asked, with the curiosity only children possess.

"Well, I believe that home is not the actual palace or castle or hut where people live, but where their families are." I reached across the replica City of Serpents and stroked Adnan's cheek. "So I am here in Minas Tirith and I am one of your homes, while your Jidd and Jadda are in Harad and so that is another of your homes. Does that make sense?"

Adnan nodded.

We played together for another half an hour before I was helping him into his loose sleeping breeches and tucking him in.

"I had dinner with Gimli and Legolas tonight," I told him as I pulled the covers to his chin.

"You did?" He asked excitedly.

I nodded. "They said very kind things about you. They said you are working very hard and are very bright."

Adnan beamed. "I like them much better than my old tutors."

"I am very proud of you, Adnan." I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Thank you, Mama."

I stood and headed for the door. "I will see you in the morning."

Just as I was about to exit, his small voice called out to me again.

"You said that I have many homes. Wherever my loved ones are, right?"

I turned back to him. "Yes."

"Then where can I visit my father?"

When the soldiers had brought back Jibran's body and I was able to pull myself together enough to see Adnan I tried my best to explain that it was just him and I now, but that we would see Jibran again. I had not specified when that would be.

I struggled to keep my composure and come up with a sufficient answer for my son.

"He is watching us for now; keeping us safe. That is a very important job that he cannot be distracted from just yet," I said. I knew even as I said it that it was not nearly enough.

Adnan nodded despite my poorly explained concept of death.

"Someday?" He asked.

"Someday," I agreed.

"I miss him, Mama."

I walked back and sat on the edge of his bed once more. "I know you do, Adnan. I know. Because I miss him just as much."

Thank you so much to anyone who is still around and reading my story even after countless long absences. I truly appreciate it. If you have it in your heart to let me know what you thought of this update, I would absolutely love that!

Happy reading,

Avonmora