Hi everyone! I felt horrible after that last update. I know it fell flat and just seemed off. I tried to explain what I was thinking better in this chapter. I'm also going to try to start writing longer updates and more of them. Hopefully that will spark my creativity. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve (Khatun)

Hashad and I, along with our retinue, arrived in the white city of Minas Tirith nearly a week before our daughter's second wedding. I had been sympathetic towards her when she had left Harad initially, it was the fate of most royal women to leave home at some point to strike an advantageous marriage. It had been mine long ago. However, upon our arrival, my heart broke thinking of what we had sent our daughter into.

When I had left my own home in the southernmost reaches of Harad, I had travelled away from my family, but I was ultimately still in my home Realm. Walking through the levels of the city, I had never felt so naked to the gaze and uncomfortable. The men and women we passed peered through our guards to get a glimpse of us and I could see their looks of horror and disgust. It was warm enough that I was not wearing a cloak. Though I no longer wore the completely revealing garments of the younger Haradrim women, my arms were still bare and the fabric of my dress was light and airy, nothing like the heavy, rustling gowns I could see as we made our way to the palace.

I might have been mistaken, but I thought I heard someone whisper, "Barbarians," as we passed by.

After what seemed like days worth of climbing, we mounted the final steps to the uppermost level of the city and I could not help but smile when I saw my daughter standing with Adnan on her hip and, who I presumed must be, the King standing to her side.

Hashad had warned me of what exactly would be expected us of while we were visiting for Mareke's wedding. He had only spent a few days in Minas Tirith when he had brought her in the first place, but he seemed to have a frightful grasp on the people and their customs.

I knew I could not rush to my daughter and my grandson and pull them into my embrace.

Without even a greeting to my family, I turned my attention toward the King and gave a curtsy, or what I hoped would pass for one as Hashad bowed.

I was completely taken aback by the King's next move. He reached for my arms and pulled me so I was standing straight once more. "Greet your daughter and grandson. They have been greatly anticipating your arrival."

I could only stare at him. He gave the kindest, most sincere smile I had ever seen and nodded, nudging me toward Mareke.

Without a word, I wrapped her in my arms tightly. There was less of her to hold than there had been when she left Harad, but I squeezed her nonetheless. We could talk later.

Adnan squealed in delight right in my ear and after a moment I turned my attention to him, kissing his plump cheeks and inhaling his delightful scent.

Hashad quickly followed suit and I felt tears prick my eyes as I watched him wrap his daughter in a tight hug and take Adnan onto his own hip.

"Jidd, I have been learning how to sword fight!" Adnan exclaimed, excitedly.

I snuck a glance at the King while my family was bustling around. As Adnan spoke dramatically of all he had been learning, I took in the soft features of the man and the look of pride he had on his face as he watched Adnan closely.

He must have felt my stare, for very soon he had met my gaze with soft gray eyes. He smiled at me and I could not detect a bit of malice or cruelty within him.

After another few moments, the tall man stepped forward. "If you would like, I can have you shown to your rooms and you can reacquaint yourselves with one another in private," he said.

"That would be most welcome," Hashad replied.

The King beckoned for a servant to join us and I could feel the young woman's gaze just as strongly as I could all of the others we had passed as we made our way through the city.

"Please show them to the guest chambers we have had arranged."

The woman nodded and curtsied and began to lead us through the corridors.

Mareke paused for a quick word with the King before she joined my side once more. I did not say anything to her. My Sindarin was passable at best and I did not want the servant to hear us speaking Haradrim. It might not look good to the people of Minas Tirith.

The woman stopped and held one door open. "Your Majesty will be in here," she said, looking at Hashad who stepped forward. I began to follow him, but Mareke grabbed my arm and shook her head.

"You will have separate rooms," she whispered.

I remained silent and followed the woman down and across the corridor and entered the rooms that would be mine while we were in Minas Tirith.

"Do either of you need anything?" The woman asked.

"No, that will be all," Mareke returned.

"Separate rooms?" I asked, once we were alone and I could speak in our own tongue.

Mareke shrugged. "It is customary here. If a couple has the space and the means they do not share bedchambers."

I ignored the abnormality of that and instead sat on one of the sofas and patted the seat next to me for Mareke and Adnan to join me.

"How have you been, daughter?" I pulled Adnan onto my own lap. "You look thin."

"The food has taken some adjusting to. It is quite bland as you will see."

I laughed lightly. I imagined it was more than the food, though I held my tongue. She was a grown woman and she had many burdens to bear.

"And Adnan? How is he adjusting?"

"He is obviously fine. At first, he was stuck in terrible lessons that seemed far too advanced for his age, but then the King stepped in and he spends time with Aragorn and his friends, learning Sindarin and other things. He takes some meals with other boys his age for the socialization. He is thoroughly enjoying Minas Tirith."

"That is better than I hoped for," I said truthfully.

"He is young enough to adapt."

"As are you," I said gently.

Mareke looked at me before turning her attention to Adnan who had scrambled off my lap and went around my rooms exploring. "I am trying," she said quietly.

"It would seem that the King might make things easier on you than expected." I squeezed her hand.

"He is very kind," she agreed. "And has been quite generous to Adnan and I, with his time and his ability to change aspects of life here so they might be more comfortable."

Her dress seemed to be a blend between what she would have worn at home and what I had seen the women in the city wearing. I rubbed the fabric between my fingers.

"He cannot change everything, but he has sacrificed his own reputation on several occasions to attempt to change things."

"Many would not act so nobly," I said gently.

"I am aware of that, Mother."

We sat in silence for a moment. With my daughter, there had been more than a few times in her life when I had not been able to come up with the correct words of comfort that she needed. How could I comfort her now when she was so far from home and alone and the blame could only be laid at the feet of her father and I?

"I am sorry that fate has led you here," I said and I knew it was weak and not nearly enough.

"Fate?" She asked. Her eyes were blazing and she did not hesitate to look directly into mine.

"No, not fate, I suppose," I replied, looking at her evenly, though I felt my own face betraying my sadness. "I do not have to explain the reasoning behind all of this to you, though. I can only apologize that it was necessary to make such a decision."

My daughter would have made a better son. She was fierce and bold and backed down from no challenge. Our Realm would have been happier to have her at its helm than her brother.

I reached a dark arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me. "I know that you are probably not happy with your father and I, but there was nothing we could do. Your people needed this."

Her head rested on my shoulder. "I know," she said quietly.

"And from the looks of it, I believe you could grow to be happy here. I have met many great men in my lifetime, but I have never seen such a humble and gentle look from any of them as the one the King gave to you and Adnan while you were not looking."

"I am trying to be grateful, I truly am," she said without moving off of my shoulder. I let my fingers stray to her wild curls and stroked her raven hair. "I never in a million years would have imagined that he would be so kind to us."

I felt warm tears fall onto my bare shoulder. "So what is the problem, Mareke?"

"Is it not a betrayal on so many different levels to be happy here?" She asked, her body shaking.

I wanted to hold her on my lap and cradle her against me as I had when she was younger. Then it was so easy to make her feel better. A hug and a quick kiss to a scraped knee and she would have been laughing again.

"Am I not betraying my people? I am not here to enjoy myself, I am here to perform a duty, to solidify an alliance, not become friends or one with the people that our men fought and died against."

She lifted her head and my heart broke to see her puffy eyes and tear-tracked cheeks.

"Am I not betraying him?"

I did not even ask of whom she was referring. I had not heard her speak her late husband's name since he had passed.

"How can I ever be even content with another man without losing or disrespecting his memory? I have already been happy once before, Mother."

I sighed and wiped the tears from her cheeks as I had when she was a girl. Mareke was still so young, but looking into her eyes I had the feeling that she had already experienced more hurt and grief than I had. My husband yet lived. He had seen our children grow up, had held a newborn grandson, and there was nothing to indicate that Hashad would leave us any time in the coming years. I would never have to face the sharp blade of a young husband's life being stolen away. We had spent our youth together.

"I try and try to remember that this a duty only, that I am doing my part because I could not go to War like the men, but he is so much more than I ever imagined and it has been hard. I watch him interact with Adnan and the boy already loves him. His father though, is the foggiest of memories." For a moment, her body shook from the crying and she covered her face with her hands. "I do not want Adnan to forget his father," she said, muffled.

"Oh Mareke," I said, unable to think of anything to comfort her. I gathered her in my arms and rubbed her back in soothing circles, though her lean body trembled against mine. After a few long moments, I held her at arm's length.

"Jibran would not want either of you to live the rest of your lives unhappily," I said gently. "He did not sacrifice so much so that you would be sad, either you or Adnan."

"I cannot understand the folly that led us to the War in the first place. It was a terrible decision and it was all for nothing. We made the wrong decision and lost thousands of men. And I lost my husband and the father of my son. I am in a strange place with strange people and I only want to be angry and aloof, but I cannot!"

Tears pricked my own eyes watching the range of emotions cross my daughter's face. She had always been proud and I could see that becoming comfortable and perhaps even happy in her new home would call that pride of her own Realm into question.

"And you should not be. You do not want to live like that every day. It will make for a very long, difficult life, Mareke."

How long had she been holding herself together with no one to confide in? I had missed her terribly, but I had never really thought of her new reality. In her letters, she only wrote of happy things, mostly updates on Adnan, and never said how she was truly feeling.

"I cannot bear to think of you living such a life," I continued. "You could have gotten many a husband who would have wanted you miserable, who would have resented your son from a previous union, but this man does not seem to be like that. Perhaps you could be friends."

Mareke merely nodded and as I continued to study her I realized that not only was she thin, there were lines near her eyes and she looked a decade older than when she had left home.

"Mama, are you alright?" Adnan came back to the sofa and put his little hands on her thigh.

She gave him a watery smile. "I am just so happy to see Jidd and Jadda," she lied. "Happy tears."

Mareke turned to look back at me and I understood that all of her energy went into my grandson, so that he could at least live a somewhat normal life.

ooooOoooo

Later that evening, Mareke served her father and I dinner in her private rooms. The King had had food sent up for us and let us dine privately together. The conversation was light and centered on Adnan and all that he was doing and learning in Minas Tirith. Eventually, we all went our separate ways.

I could not sleep without my husband. I did not understand the custom. I got out of bed and found my robe before slipping from the door. One of the servants in my room said something to me, but I merely shook my head and slipped down the corridor to Hashad's room.

"Your Majesty, is everything alright?" One of the servants in his sitting room asked me.

"I just need to see my husband," I said in my halting Sindarin.

He looked at me strangely, but nodded and pushed the door open to the bedroom.

Hashad had dismissed everyone from his presence it seemed and so we could speak in our own tongue. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.

"Khatun? What are you doing? It must be after midnight," he said groggily.

"I could not sleep without you," I replied, pulling his covers back and slipping underneath them and snuggling against his warm body.

"I believe that the husbands usually go to their wives here," he said, pulling me closer. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Can you imagine such a thing?" I asked with a soft laugh.

"It is very strange," he admitted.

We laid in silence for a moment.

"Did you speak with Mareke?" He asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Does she hate me terribly?"

"She is confused and lonely, but not angry I do not believe."

Hashad sighed. "When I met the King the first time, I found him to be very noble. I thought she might be content with him. I did not, nor do I now, expect them to fall passionately in love, but I thought she could grow to be happy." His fingers went into my thick, graying hair. "She does not look well."

"We spoke for a long time this afternoon. Our daughter is very conflicted. She realizes how lucky she is and there is a part of her that wants to embrace her new life, but an even larger part of her wants to remain clinging to her old life and preserving that memory."

"Can she not do both?"

"It would seem that she feels as though she cannot."

"What can we do?" Hashad asked.

"Urge her to allow herself to be happy, I suppose, though I do not know exactly how to go about that."

Hashad did not respond for a long while, but his fingers slowly combed through my hair.

"Will you be breaking all traditions and staying with me through the night, my Queen?" He asked.

"I would have it no other way."

ooooOoooo

It was only a few days before the wedding when I found myself wandering through the corridors near the royal chambers alone. I had left Mareke and Adnan for their afternoon nap. My daughter had always loved her sleep. When Adnan was born the hardest transition for her was the nightly interruptions when he was hungry. Jibran had woken as well more often than not, but Mareke had been the only one who could fulfill their son's needs.

She had slept a great deal when the War was over. She had used it as an escape from her reality and I could sense that she was still doing that to some degree, but when she was awake she was as attentive to Adnan as ever, if not to herself and her emotions.

"Your Majesty, are you lost?" A deep voice asked.

I turned to see the King striding towards me.

I shook my head. "No, my lord, I am merely wandering about, admiring your home." I hoped he could understand me through my accent. "I was hoping to run into my husband.

"There is much to be desired here, I am sure." He caught up to me quickly and offered his arm. "I just sent your husband to admire the Rohirric horses that Eomer-King and his retinue brought for the wedding, actually. And please, call me Aragorn. We are to be family soon."

"Then I will insist on the same informality. I am Khatun."

"Khatun," he tried the name out on his tongue. "Is that right?"

"Perfect," I assured him.

"I practiced and practiced when Mareke came here and told me how to pronounce her name," he said sheepishly.

I smiled up at him. "That was very considerate."

"I have gone by many names and it can be quite irritating when people cannot or do not say them correctly."

"Adnan only refers to you as Strider. Mareke had to tell me who he was talking about," I said.

"Ah yes. That is a nickname that very few use anymore."

"That child talks of you constantly," I told him.

"Only good things, I hope?" The king looked down at me with a charming smile.

"He adores you." We had walked quite a ways.

"Would you like to see the gardens?"

"That would be lovely," I agreed. The King led us into the royal gardens and I was glad to have a breath of fresh air. "As their matriarch, I must thank you for making their transition to life here as easy as possible. Many men would not have done the same."

"It saddens me greatly to think that there are people out there who do not show others respect and common decency."

"From what I understand, you have done much more than that." I let my fingertips run over the petals of the early blooming flowers.

Aragorn remained silent and gestured for us to take a seat on a stone bench in front of a small gurgling fountain.

"I hope you understand that my daughter is not being intentionally difficult," I said quietly. "I have spoken to her and I can imagine that she is not being exactly gracious."

"I believe that we are trying to understand one another, Khatun, and that is a struggle for several different reasons." He sighed. "Your daughter has seen and been through so much in her young life. I do not know many her age who could handle what she has had to bear all while caring for her child and putting him before herself."

I put my dark hand on his forearm. "Yes, but you have also struggled."

"That is true," he admitted. "I do not have a child to care for though. I have been able to be very selfish in my grief and anger."

I nodded. "But in doing all of the things you have for Adnan and Mareke, you are no longer being selfish. Quite the opposite actually."

"I want them to be comfortable here. For Adnan that is easier. However, I want you to know that I want your daughter to be able to live some sort of amicable life here. I cannot bear to think of her here, forever unhappy."

"Aragorn, I can tell that you want very much to make her at least content. It will take time I am afraid, for her to open up a bit more."

We stood and began to make our way back into the palace.

"I want you to know that I am forever grateful for how you have treated them when it would have been much easier to clean your hands of the whole business and go through with the marriage solely for the purpose of the alliance."

"I could not have done that. If I could remember that time in my life, I am sure I would relate very much to Adnan. My father died when I was quite small and my foster father was an incredible man. Without him, I would not be at all who I am today. I only hope that I can provide something along those lines for your grandson. He has already brought immense joy into my life."

I gave his arm a gentle squeeze as we approached the entrance back into his palace. I looked wistfully back over my shoulder at the clear, blue sky and green vegetation.

"Your daughter also balks whenever she must re-enter these stone walls."

ooooOoooo

The morning of the wedding dawned and the sun was shining, a good omen I hoped.

I left Hashad's rooms and made my way to prepare myself before I went to Mareke to assist with her preparations. When the servants let me enter her bedroom, I could only see the top of her curly head poking out from her blankets.

Gingerly, I sat on the edge of her bed and ran my hand over her back. After a few moments, she peeked up at me and I was reminded strongly of when she was a child and I had woken her in the same manner.

"Did you sleep?" I asked quietly.

"Only in the last few hours," she admitted. "The last time I could not sleep because I was excited. This time I could not sleep because I could not stop thinking of the last time."

I pulled the blankets down and stroked her hair. "It will be alright, Mareke. Have some faith."

"Faith has done little for me," she said in her staccato voice that she assumed when she did not want to cry. She sat up and stretched, avoiding my eyes.

An older woman walked in. I had seen her fluttering around my daughter since our arrival. Lady Ioreth was Mareke's chief lady-in-waiting and my daughter seemed to be somewhat dependent on her.

"A bath is ready for you," she said. She offered a tight smile in my direction as Mareke unwillingly left her bed and headed into the bathroom.

Many more women came into her room while she was bathing. One of them went to fetch her dress, but I stopped her and shooed her away. It was not hard to do. While the nobility of Minas Tirith looked upon my family with disdain, the servants seemed to actually fear us. Mareke had told me that there were whispers of her black magic prowess and we had had a good laugh over that, but the more I was around the servants, the more I could see their trepidation around us.

I pulled the wedding gown from where it was hanging. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was long and flowing, not tight and constricting as the gowns the women wore in Minas Tirith and it was in a lovely shade of the lightest gold. Mareke had told me it was customary for brides in Gondor to wear white to exemplify their purity, but there was no getting around the fact that my daughter was going to her second marriage bed in a less pure state.

Mareke came out, wrapped in the silk robe she had brought with her from home and sat before the vanity while Lady Ioreth herself went to work on her hair.

"It was difficult for me at first to handle your daughter's hair, Your Majesty," Lady Ioreth said in a friendly voice. I was a little surprised that she addressed me at all. From what I had gathered she seemed very severe.

"I know what you mean. When she was little and I had to start tending to those curls I was at a loss. I had never seen hair so unruly."

Mareke smiled at me in the mirror which also surprised me.

"It is beautiful in its own unique way, though, and together we have learned how to style it perfectly," Ioreth said, giving Mareke's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

In that moment, I was jealous that the other woman was so close to my daughter. I hated that she was able to see her every day when I could not. When the wedding festivities were over and we were to head back to Harad, I did not know when I would see my daughter and grandson again.

Lady Ioreth skillfully wove my daughter's hair into a thick, loose braid and draped it over her left shoulder.

"Put your gown on," she said gently. "We are running short on time."

I walked to the bed where I had laid the gown and held it up for Mareke to step into.

It fit her trim figure beautifully and the gold complemented her bronze skin, lighter than mine. She stepped into her shoes and went over to the tall mirror. I stood behind her and we both gazed at her reflection.

"You look wonderful," I said. There were no words for it.

Mareke had never had a confidence issue before, though it was true that she had not been hounded by young men. There was something in her face that intimidated most around her. She was no soft, demure beauty, in words or in looks. She was a replica of her father. I had always thought that her face and features might have been better suited to a fierce warrior, though my daughter did not need to wield a weapon to frighten and intimidate those around her.

"As though that mattered," she replied shortly.

I gave her a quick hug, despite her attitude.

"You will take Prince Adnan with you?" Lady Ioreth asked me as I fussed about with Mareke's dress.

I turned and nodded. "Yes. His grandfather and I will keep him with us during the ceremony and celebration."

"Very good."

An hour later, Hashad and I were seated, a squirming Adnan on my lap, in the front row under the shade of the White Tree of Gondor.

A wizened old man stood underneath it just a few feet away from us and Aragorn stood next to him. I could not read his expression in the slightest, though I craved to know what was happening under his smooth surface.

He broke his composure when he glanced in the direction of my family and caught Adnan's eye. The boy immediately stopped squirming and I watched in shock as the King actually stuck his tongue out playfully at Adnan. My grandson giggled and giggled. Though I smiled, I was aware of the whispering that erupted from the gesture.

"To belittle himself in such a manner."

"Entertaining that witch's child."

"Where is the heathen whore?"

The things I overheard made my skin crawl. After meeting the King, I had felt much more at peace with my daughter being in Minas Tirith, but after listening to the people who surrounded her for a week, I was back to worrying. I feared the blatant hostility of their attitudes towards her and her people, not to mention her son, who was not yet four years old.

My attention was gratefully diverted as everyone stood when Mareke appeared at the head of the aisle. She walked toward Aragorn, keeping her eyes straight ahead, who had regained his soft expression and smiled kindly at her.

The ceremony went over my head. The man presiding used words I was unfamiliar with. Instead, I studied my daughter and her soon-to-be husband. Her face was stony and she seemed to be staring directly over the King's shoulder.

Aragorn's face changed once more and I believe it was when the man asked if he would take Mareke to be his wife. The look was one of pure pain. It was not his whole face that changed, but I could see it in the strain of his mouth and his eyes seemed to go a shade darker, duller.

"I do," he said after a moment's pause in which the assembled crowd held its breath hopefully.

When my daughter said the same, I felt a tear slide down my cheek. It was not one of joy, but of sadness and hurt for Mareke who had sacrificed so much for our people. It was also for Aragorn and the woman he wished was standing before him instead of my daughter.

The dwarf, Gimli, that Adnan loved so, rose from his seat and bore a pillow with two rings on it. He bowed low and offered the pillow up to the King and Mareke. They placed each other's rings on the other's fingers.

Next, Legolas took the place of the dwarf. I had very much enjoyed hearing Adnan speak of all of his "tutors." The Elf did the same and Aragorn took a golden circlet from the pillow that he brought. Mareke kneeled in front of the King and he placed it around her forehead.

She rose gracefully and the woman I looked up at, my daughter, was the Queen of Gondor and Arnor.

There you have it! I was much more pleased with this chapter than the last, as I hope you were as well. Let me know what you thought!

Happy reading,

Avonmora