Hello again everyone! I am trying to make up my last terrible delay by updating again within the week. I'm really pleased with how this chapter turned out. I hope you are too!

Chapter Nine (Aragorn)

The change that came over Mareke after the night that she hosted Legolas and Gimli was noticeable even to me in my detached state. She did not seem to be pretending to smile or laugh anymore. The only time I noticed any of her old effort was when she was around her son and even then it was lacking in substance.

I tried to think of something that I might be able to do to cheer her, but the woman was a virtual stranger to me. One afternoon when I was walking in the gardens with Adnan and Duma, the big cat nudging Adnan to play, I thought to ask him what I could do to cheer his mother.

The young boy thought for a moment. It was probably difficult for him as well. He was nearing his fourth birthday, but as a child his world was very limited and concerned mostly himself.

"Well she really likes flowers," Adnan finally said, grinning up at me, proud of himself for coming up with something. "And she likes to drink tea in the morning, but she has not found it here yet."

"Hmm," I mused. "Thank you very much, Adnan. That was very helpful."

Adnan continued grinning even as Duma nudged him more forcefully in the back with his head. The cat had grown very large since they had been in Minas Tirith.

The boy took off at a sprint and Duma stayed by my side for a moment longer before he went off looking for him. I ran my fingers down his soft back as he loped off.

Later that afternoon, though it was very difficult, I managed to find Mareke's Haradrim lady, Oyna, alone.

"Your Majesty!" She exclaimed, surprised that I would be seeking her out. She spoke in a faltering Common Tongue which felt unusual to me, but I pressed on.

"It has come to my attention that Mareke has been rather sad of late," I said.

Oyna merely nodded. "She is still adjusting. It will take some time, but I am sure she will come around."

"I hope so. Earlier today I asked Adnan what might cheer his mother and he mentioned that she enjoyed a special tea in the mornings, but that our kitchens do not have it."

The woman nodded again. "It is not really so special. It is just different than what you all drink. It could probably be made, but she has not asked."

"What is in it?"

"It is just a stronger tea," she shrugged. "With different spices."

"Could you help me make it tomorrow morning?"

"If Your Majesty wishes it so," Oyna replied.

I hated those responses. Why could no one just say that yes they could help me?

"Very well. I will meet you in the kitchens before the sun rises."

Oyna dropped into a curtsy that was much more graceful than the first one I had seen and I left and headed for my study.

The next morning before the sun rose, I found myself scouring the garden for the most vibrant spring flowers I could find in the dim light.

When I was satisfied with what I had found, I made my way to the kitchen and found Oyna waiting outside the door.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," she said with another curtsy.

I led her into the kitchen and asked to be shown to somewhere we could make a pot of tea for the Princess of Harad.

The kitchen hands looked at me as though I were crazy, which I ignored. I had the feeling that I would be getting a lot of similar looks in the future solely for taking Mareke to be my wife.

Oyna began setting about her work, but mostly ignoring my presence.

"Oyna, would it be possible for you to tell me what you are doing so that I can learn? If this is a success I would like to make a habit of it."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

I stepped up next to her where she was working at the stove.

"You will want to use more tea leaves than you would for your Gondoran tea. What we drink in Harad is actually black tea and much stronger, but since that does not seem to be available here the strength can be adjusted using more tea leaves. It will not be exactly the same, but it will be more to her taste than what has been served so far."

She brought water to a boil over the flame and when it was gently boiling she poured it into the teapot and added the leaves. Oyna then reached for small vials of spices and listed them off to me. "Mint, cinnamon, sage, cloves, and nutmeg."

I watched closely as she put all of those spices into the teapot and then stirred it rhythmically for a while.

I had the kitchen women send the breakfast tray that was usually sent to Adnan and Herenya with me along with my bouquet of flowers and the pot of tea that Oyna had made.

Attempting to balance the tray was difficult as I came upon the Queen's rooms and knocked on the door.

My breath caught in my throat when Mareke answered herself. She wore a red silk robe over the same shade and fabric nightgown. The robe was slipping off of her shoulder and the nightgown was lower cut than anything I had seen in Gondor.

"Well that certainly must have come from Harad," I said, trying to make light of the situation.

"Oh, Your Majesty, I was expecting Oyna," she said, quickly turning her back to me and trying to readjust the robe.

"Aragorn," I corrected her gently.

"You were so thoughtful to bring our breakfast up," she said, back still turned to me. "Let me change and wake Adnan. He will be delighted to see you so early."

She could change into whatever she wanted, but I had seen her dark skin and another of her strange tattoos peeking out on her chest. I had never seen a woman's body look like that. I could have sworn that her skin was giving off some of her desert heat and in that instant I wanted to be scorched.

The feeling of lust took me by surprise. Dozens of women had been paraded before me after the War and my coronation and I had wanted to keep all of them at arm's length at best. It had been a struggle to even dance with most of them. There was something about seeing Mareke in her morning state of disarray, nightgown and wild curls, that set my blood to pounding in my ears.

A few moments later, she and Adnan came out dressed for the day. Mareke had donned one of the modest gowns of her creation. There was no blush in her face and I admired her for not being flustered. She was no frivolous girl. She was a woman who had experienced a great many things in her young life.

"Strider!" Adnan exclaimed, pulling me by the hand and seating me next to himself at the small breakfast table. I could not help but grin when the boy greeted me so each time he saw me. No one was that excited about my presence anymore.

Mareke helped him get his plate full and then poured herself a cup of tea. She admired the flowers for a moment. I watched her hopefully.

Her brow knitted when she caught the aroma of the tea from her home, or as close to the tea from her home as Oyna could get it.

She took a tentative sip and I saw something pass over her face that had been the opposite of what I was hoping for. Her dark eyes seemed to cloud over and her face went blank.

"I hope that is to your liking," I said quietly. "I was told you missed your tea from home so I enlisted the help of Oyna in trying her best to recreate it here."

"I truly appreciate it," she said weakly. Mareke did not take another sip. Her hands were shaking and the teacup clattered back onto the saucer spilling some of the dark liquid. She stood and once more turned her back to me. "I left something in my room."

Without another word she left Adnan and I sitting alone at the table. I was quite bewildered, but Adnan looked as though her reaction was nothing unusual. The boy put his chin in his hand and sighed as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"My father always used to bring her tea and flowers in the morning," he said.

It clicked into place then. The day before he had told me that his mother would enjoy tea and flowers because it was what he had seen over and over again and I had just tried to recreate what I was sure was a very precious memory for the Princess of Harad.

"I think she misses him very much," he continued on. "She does not smile or laugh anymore." Adnan did not cry, but he seemed very confused and sad. "I try and try to be like my father for her, but it does not work."

I ran my fingers through my hair and then reached out to grip his arm so he was looking at me. "You are not meant to be your father," I said gently. "You are Adnan, son of Mareke, not husband of Mareke. She knows this. And she is grateful that you try so hard to make her days as bright as they were before."

He looked at me as though he understood.

We had been roughly the same age when our fathers had been killed. I remembered none of it. I did not remember what my mother was like or how her raw grief had affected me. It gave me hope that he would not be permanently marred by the tragedy that had already taken place in his life.

"Your mother is very brave, Adnan, to come to a new land that she does not know. Her days are difficult and tiring, but she is lucky to have you and I know she is very proud of you and all you are learning here."

Adnan nodded. I reached up and cupped his soft cheek in my hand. "It will be alright. You must not worry so. Even adults face difficult times, but they can be overcome. And you are helping your mother to overcome her difficult days. Do not forget that."

I watched him for a moment longer to make sure that he would not cry. When I was satisfied that he was alright I stood. "Now finish your breakfast while I check on your mother."

I knocked gently on the door to Mareke's bedroom.

"Please let me in," I said when there was no answer.

"You are the King. You may do as you wish," came her sullen reply.

I entered the room and closed the door behind me. Mareke had her back to me as she stared out of the window that faced the gardens.

"Mareke, I did not mean to upset you," I began. "I was trying to make you smile. Adnan just told me something that made you happy in a past life."

"A past life," she repeated. "We live so many."

I was silent; unsure of how to proceed.

"Your son is a very observant young man," I finally said. "He knows you are unhappy here. He has taken it upon himself to make you feel better."

Mareke still did not speak.

"That is a terrible burden to bear for a boy who is not yet four."

She whirled around then. "Do you think I am burdening him like this on purpose? Do you think I do not understand what it must be like for him? Do you not understand that I try every day to keep the pain at bay and away from him?" She demanded roughly. "Try to imagine what it might be like to live here in Minas Tirith of all places. My husband died on the field just outside of your city. They pulled his body from a field of dead men. His spirit haunts me here! I have to keep that from Adnan as well. His father was slain in Gondor, just outside of your rock walls, just a stone's throw from the gardens and stables and practice fields he has grown so fond of."

I stood in shock. So far in her stay she had managed to be the perfect, demure Gondoran lady who would never dream of speaking to a man in such a manner. In that instance, I saw the flames that must have been nourished growing up in Harad and I realized that her act at being gentle and soft-spoken was just that: a performance.

"No, Mareke, you misunderstand me."

She cut me off. "No, you misunderstand me." Her dark eyes bore into mine. "You think you understand what I am feeling because in a way it seems as though we have gone through the same unfortunate experiences, but who depends on you? I know your people do, but you have an entire council and noblemen who have helped you make your decisions on days when you cannot bear to make them yourself. Who helps me? I have child, who if you had met his father you would think that he had created him without my help. I have a son who stares at me with his father's face from the time he wakes up until the time he goes to bed. My pain stems from looking into that innocent face and seeing my husband every day. Who shields Adnan from me so that he does not know what trials I go through every day without his father and away from my family and homeland? Who allows me to stay in bed all day instead of feeding and bathing and caring for my son? No one. You can disappear into your rooms and no one will miss you. The people will think that you are taking care of them, but it is others who do your work. If I lock myself in this room, what happens to Adnan?"

Mareke's hands went to cover her face and she wept bitterly. On her left hand I saw the tattoo that decorated the third finger from the first knuckle to her nail bed. I could never cover that up.

I reached out and took her arms gently in my hands.

She jerked violently out of my grasp. "Do not touch me," she said viciously. "If you thought we might share our grief together then you were mistaken."

"I am only trying to help," I managed to get out.

"By making me feel as though I am a terrible mother? Unable to take care of him because I cannot hide my hurt from him?"

She gave a bitter laugh that was a most unpleasant sound to me.

"Do you not think I feel that way without you pointing it out?"

"I did not mean to make you feel like this," I said quietly.

"Then what did you mean to do? I already know these things. I know I have slipped as a mother. I have made mistakes that cannot be corrected with Adnan. I know."

Tears were still streaming down her face and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe them away, but she had made it clear that she did not care for my touch.

"I thought we might work together for Adnan. That we might form some sort of, dare I say it, family. I grew up much like he has and I have yearned for the feeling of a complete family that was truly mine since my parents passed away."

Mareke looked at me evenly, her voice becoming more steady and even. "You may take whatever part you wish in Adnan's life. He would be lucky to have you take such an interest and he and I both already appreciate what you have put in place for him." Mareke took a deep breath. "You will be all he knows in such a fatherly role. He will never remember his father. But I will. I always will."

ooooOoooo

I remained in a state of shock for the following three days and for those three days I did not once see Mareke. I still took part in Adnan's lessons, but whenever I went to fetch him from his rooms or return him, she was nowhere to be found and Oyna would be waiting for him.

I did not even bother asking the lady-in-waiting where the Princess was. I knew she did not want to interact with me anymore.

One of those afternoons as I was walking Adnan back to the Queen's chambers, a pang of something close to understanding hit me. The boy was babbling on and on and as I looked down at him, I tried to imagine what it might have been like had Arwen left behind our child for me to care for. I could not imagine what the weight of that responsibility might feel like, especially if, as Mareke had said, Adnan was through and through a replica of his father.

What pain and conflict that must cause within one's heart. The child had obviously been created through an act of great love, had begun his life in the midst of a truly loving and caring marriage, but now, though she obviously loved him deeply, he was a constant reminder of what had been and what would never be again.

Later, when I returned to my study Legolas joined me. I had not been working very hard at anything and instead had my head in my hands, fingers spearing my hair.

"Mellon, what is the matter?" Legolas asked as he sat across from me, draping one ankle over the opposite knee.

"I have presumed to know far too much about the woman who is to be my wife."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I presumed that she and I have experienced the same things and that is just not the case."

Legolas was silent for a moment. "You are both hurting," he began. "But differently, I suppose."

I nodded at him.

"I do not mean to offend you, my friend, but your hurt, I believe, stems more from anger than a genuine sadness." He paused once more, thinking carefully of how to proceed. "Arwen promised you many things. She promised that you would live out what days were given to you together, that you would raise a beautiful family, and most importantly she promised that she had faith that you would succeed and that she would wait for you." He stopped. He did not have to go on. The truth of the matter was something I dealt with every day. She had not waited for me. She had allowed her faith to be broken and she had ruined all of the things we had hoped to achieve.

"And Mareke?" I asked him.

"I think the Princess has a sadness inside of her the likes of which most of us cannot begin to fathom." He rested his elbows on my large mahogany desk. "Mareke and her husband were already on the path to achieving great things, they had a beautiful son, and a relationship that would not have been broken if it were not for the War. Her husband did not leave her through any choice of his own." He took a deep breath. "You can be angry with Arwen because of the choices she made and how they have impacted your life, but who does Mareke have to be angry with? Her gods maybe, but there is no living person to be blamed for the tragedies and variables of war." Legolas looked at me, compassion shining in his grey eyes. "It must be as though he is resurrected every day in the shape of her son." He sighed. "And then on top of that to see her husband's son forming such an intimate connection to you and knowing that he will never truly know his real father," Legolas trailed off.

I put my head back in my hands. "What am I to do?" The realization of what I had implied to the Princess washed over me and I felt such remorse.

"I do not know. She is at once fragile and very strong."

I stood and paced in front of the window. "I have never felt so out of my element, Legolas."

"I know, my friend, but you have great insight and a will like nothing I have ever seen before. You can make things right and bearable for her." He rested his hand on my shoulder. "But you cannot expect too much of her. She is only capable of so much. And that goes for you too."

I turned and looked at my friend once more. Even in the darkest of times there was some good to be had. I was extremely fortunate in my friends. Legolas squeezed my shoulder and left me to ponder what was to be done.

ooooOoooo

The next week I thought I had finally come up with something that might serve as a peace offering to Mareke. I was nervous though, unsure of how she might take it.

I walked to her rooms that morning after I knew that Gimli had taken Adnan for his lesson. Oyna greeted me at the door to the sitting room and showed me to the Princess. I had not specifically sought her out since our failed conversation after bringing her the tea.

Oyna pushed the door to Mareke's bedroom open and I immediately spotted her sitting in a patch of sunlight in the window seat, the volume on my Realm's history open on her outstretched legs. She barely glanced up at me before turning her attention back to the book. "I think you have you days confused, Your Majesty. Gimli took Adnan an hour ago."

"I am not here for Adnan," I replied, ignoring the jibe of her using my formal title. "I came here for you."

Mareke sighed as though I were putting her out and closed her book. Her dark eyes burned into mine. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I would like to do something for you if you are up to it."

"I suppose that would depend on what it is." The window was cracked to let the refreshing spring breeze in and it blew her curls this way and that.

I had woken and thought I could smell a storm in the air, but I hoped it would hold off until the afternoon.

"Let me take you onto Pelennor Field," I said quietly.

Mareke just stared at me. "Excuse me?"

I repeated myself. "It might offer you some closure. At the very least you will know where it all happened. You can see it and feel it."

The color drained from her face as she sat the book down next to her. Mareke stood and nodded resolutely.

"I have horses and guards ready to go whenever you are," I offered. "I will be in the sitting room."

Once in the other room, I paced back and forth unsure of if I had made the right decision or not. Eventually, Mareke joined me in a riding outfit that would offer her a little more freedom of movement along with practical boots.

Without a word, I led her down to the stables where five of my most trusted men were waiting already mounted on their horses. Brego was saddled next to one of the more gentle mares.

Mareke mounted the mare and glanced over at me. I could tell that being on a horse was not her favorite thing, but what was that compared to all she had faced and would have to face.

I rubbed Brego's neck one last time before swinging into the saddle. The horse was as loyal as they came and we had seen a great many things together, not least of all the final battle at Morannon against Sauron's forces.

I hardly had to direct the horse. He knew what I wanted from the most subtle of my movements and so we went down the levels of Minas Tirith until we were confronted with the Great Gate. On the other side of that gate was the expanse of Pelennor Field. My eyes found Mareke's while the gate was still closed.

She nodded and I waved to the men keeping watch over the main entrance to my city to open the gate. When there was a enough room we all made our way out onto the field that was just turning green again in the early spring.

The transformation the field had taken represented hope for me. I had seen it at its very worst. I had seen it when it was strewn with lifeless bodies. I had seen it once it had been cleared, but still there were signs of the fight; burnt patches and patches where no grass grew, divots from horses.

I pulled Brego back so that we were following Mareke. It was her time to cope with whatever it was that haunted her.

Once we had ridden a good distance from the walls of Minas Tirith, she came to a halt and dismounted the mare. She walked a few feet from where the guards and I had stopped. I held my hand out when they went to get closer to her. "Leave her be."

I watched her arms wrap around her own chest, hugging herself almost. She looked all around, surveying the entirety of the field.

The sky had gone very gray on our ride out and as I sat watching her there was a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder. I knew that very shortly the sky would open up and pour, but I was not going to rush her.

Mareke fell to her knees and bowed her head. Her fingers wove themselves through the grass and she burrowed them into the dirt beneath her.

I felt the first drop fall from the sky as the same moment I noticed her shoulders shaking. Her wild curls were still blowing in the wind and over the noise I could not hear her crying, but I could see it.

I dismounted Brego and walked out to her silently, kneeling behind her. The rain began to pour and it ran down from my hair onto my face and into my tunic, while the thunder got louder and the lighting brighter.

The entirety of her slender body was being wracked by the sobs our trip onto the field had induced. I was close enough to touch her and so I reached out to rest my hands gently on her shoulders.

Immediately, it was as though the fury of the storm was being channeled through Mareke. Before I knew it she had turned and was pummeling my chest with her fists.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the men I had brought begin to ride toward me, but once more I stayed them by raising my hand.

"You were here too," she shouted over the wind and thunder. "You probably stepped over his dead body. It should have been you lying here!"

I continued to let her pound her fists into me. I wanted her to feel better even if it met being hit and yelled at. I did not blame her for what she thought.

"He was supposed to come back to us!" Her blows were weakening as was her shouting.

I was finally able to grab her wrists and crush her against my chest so she could not move anymore. Her body lost all of its fight in that instant.

"It should have been you," she sobbed.

I hope you loved it! Reviews seriously make me the happiest! So if you have it in your heart, let me know what you think. I could also use any ideas or knowledge you may have. It can only help!

Happy reading,

Avonmora