Reasons to Hope, Reasons to Live
Chapter: Sixteen
Beta: Aubrey'Snape
Legends:
"Common Language"
'Elvish Language'
/Thoughts/
(Translations)
A/N: This chapter has a sex part but following FFnet rules, I won't post it here. If you want to read it, you can find the chapter in Mirrormere, Library of Moria and Archive of Our Own under my username HanaHeart.
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It was almost dawn when Aragorn left his bedroom fully dressed. His heart clenched as he noticed the prone form of lady Gwîneth on one of the living room couches. The elven lady must've spent her night there instead of her room, thinking that he and Legolas were in the room. She probably didn't wish to disturb them in their hour of mourning and preferred to sleep here instead. The man sighed deeply, closing his eyes briefly, blinking away the tears that started to form. Shaking his head, he pushed his grief away, knowing that he had to be strong for Legolas' sake, if nothing else. Taking a deep breath, he forced his legs to move to the sleeping elleth and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Lady Gwîneth…" he called softly.
Gwîneth rose almost immediately, staring questioningly at the man above her. Her mouth opened to ask the King about why he was in her room when the events of last night returned to her. Instead, tears flooded her eyes and soft sobs escaped her mouth.
Aragorn took a deep breath as the Mirkwood lady wept in front of him; he kept his hand resting on the lady's shoulder trying to provide some measure of comfort.
"I'm sorry, your Majesty," Gwîneth whispered, wiping her tears away. "What happened was indeed a shock…" she tried her hardest to hold down her overwhelming grief but her tears simply refused to stop falling.
"It's alright, my lady," Aragorn said softly, fighting down his own grief. He had to be strong for them. "It's a shock to us all."
The elven lady looked up at him sadly before she stood up slowly, allowing Aragorn's hand to gently slide off her shoulder.
"How is Legolas faring?" she asked.
The King sighed; he didn't wish to talk about Legolas' state right now. To say that the blond elf was utterly devastated would've been an understatement.
"He's sleeping." Aragorn replied. "I just managed to force him to go to sleep two hours ago. Please, take care of him while I'm gone, my lady."
Gwîneth nodded her understanding.
"I have to go now," The man stated. "There are so many things that have to be done." With that, he began to stride towards the door.
"My Lord?" Aragorn halted just as his hand was about to turn the doorknob and he looked over his shoulder at the lady.
"Is Mír—Míreth in her cradle?" Gwîneth fought hard not to cry as she mentioned the name of the elfling she had come to adore so much.
"She's with Legolas in our bedroom," Aragorn replied tonelessly before he opened the door and left the room.
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The guards and servants that roamed the corridors early in the morning stared inquisitively as their King strode through, wondering why their liege was out of bed at such an early hour. Many were tempted to approach and ask him but the somber expression on his face was enough to kill their curiosity immediately.
The two soldiers guarding the King's main office stood at attention as they saw their Monarch approaching, yet their eyes held the same question that ran through the minds of everyone who crossed his path this morning.
"You," Aragorn spoke to one of the guards as soon as he reached his office. "Go to Lord Faramir's quarters and inform him that I require his presence at my office."
"Now, my Lord?" the young guard asked. "It's too early and Lord Faramir is asleep—"
"Then wake him up!" Aragorn snapped. "I want to see my Steward at once!" Without waiting for a reply, he entered the office, and slammed the door behind him.
The two guards winced at the loud sound of the heavy wood doors slamming against their frames and they exchanged worried glances. Their King had never spoken to any of them in that tone before. He was the most patient, kind and humble person they had ever met. Sensing something was amiss, the guards nodded to each other before the guard, whom Aragorn spoke to, hurried to carry out his orders.
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Faramir practically ran through the corridors from his personal quarters heading to the King's office next to the Throne room. The guard who carried Aragorn's message to him had distressed the young Steward upon describing the King's state. Dark apprehension filled Faramir's soul with each step he took towards his destination.
As soon as he reached the office, he was immediately granted an entry. The sight that met him raised his anxiety tenfold.
Aragorn was sitting on the couch in the dim lit room; shoulders slumped, head bowed and resting upon tightly clutched first.
"Your Majesty?" Faramir called when the King failed to acknowledge his presence.
The blond man almost cried out in anguish as Aragorn lifted his head and looked up at him with such a devastated expression etched on his handsome features.
"Sit down, Faramir," The King spoke in low emotionless voice.
"What happened, my Lord?" Faramir asked passionately as he took his seat in front of Aragorn.
"Míreth died last night," The King replied in the same toneless voice after a moment of silence.
Faramir gasped as he stared disbelievingly at his King.
"How? Why?" he finally managed to breathe.
Aragorn shook his head in response and stood up, heading to the fireplace. With his back to his friend, he spoke again; the lack of inflection in his voice only caused the other man's heart to clench in sympathy.
"An official obituary should be made. All flags and banners throughout the kingdom must be lowered to mourn her death and I'm charging you with all the funeral arrangements."
Faramir listened to his King's instructions, feeling his soul crying for the other man. He knew that Aragorn was trying to appear strong and calm when in fact his heart was bleeding for the loss of his child.
"Yes, your Majesty," The Steward said as Aragorn finished dictating his orders. The blond man stood up and walked to his King, placing a comforting hand on the tensed shoulders. "Please, accept my deepest condolences, my King." A simple nod was his only reply. "Is that all, my Liege?"
"A message of condolences should be sent to Mirkwood. King Thranduil is Mír—the Princess' grandfather and should be informed." Aragorn closed his eyes briefly, feeling as if his heart was being stabbed upon the mere mention of his daughter's name.
"Yes, my Lord."
"That would be all, Faramir."
The blond man nodded before walking away but as he reached for the door's knob, a thought occurred to him.
"My Lord," he spoke, looking back at his King. "If the Lords of the Council wished to pay their condolences—"
"I do not wish to see anyone until I say otherwise." Aragorn cut off sharply.
"But, my Lord—"
"Just tell them that Legolas and I wish to mourn the loss of our daughter in peace." Aragorn said heatedly. "Neither I nor Legolas will see anyone that isn't family until we decided that we're ready."
"Yes, my Lord." Faramir nodded empathetically before leaving the room. As soon as the door was closed shut, Aragorn allowed his tears to slide silently down his cheeks.
'Goheno nîn, Míreth. (Forgive me, Míreth.)' He whispered softly into the air. 'I've failed you.'
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Gwîneth sighed deeply as she stood in the living room' balcony, staring blankly into the horizon. Merely an hour had passed since sunrise but it seemed like ages to the blonde elleth. Gwîneth bit her lower lip, wondering how the news of the Princess' death would befall on the rest of their family members and friends.
"Lady Gwîneth!" Pippin's cheerful voice snapped her from her thoughts. Gwîneth took a deep breath, readying herself to face Mallorn and the halflings.
"Good morning." She greeted softly, forcing a small smile as she entered the living room.
Mallorn frowned deeply, noticing how tired and wane the Mirkwood elleth looked. Her usually bright, lively eyes were dull and red, and her inner light was dim.
"Lady Gwîneth, is Míreth ready for our walk?" Pippin asked enthusiastically.
"Is she up yet?" Merry asked with an equal excitement. "We made a present for her; a nice wooden doll."
"Let's go and check on her, Merry." Pippin patted his cousin's shoulder before rushing towards Míreth's bedchamber, followed by Merry.
Gwîneth bit her lower lip, fighting the grief that rose in her heart at the hobbits' excitement.
"Gwîneth," she almost jumped from fright upon hearing Mallorn's solemn voice. She turned to look at the blond Prince, but upon seeing his face Gwîneth couldn't hold herself together any longer. Sobbing, she threw herself into Mallorn's arms, and buried her head in his shoulder.
'Gwîneth, what's wrong?' he asked dreadfully. 'Tell me, what happened?'
'Míreth passed away,' The lady sobbed. 'She passed away last night.'
Mallorn's body stiffened as Gwîneth's words slowly sunk in and he felt as if his mind suddenly froze and refused to accept what the lady said.
"Gwîneth, where is Míreth?" the innocent tone that colored Pippin's question caused Mallorn's body to shake violently as different emotions ran through his soul. Gwîneth looked down at the hobbits and couldn't suppress the new wave of tears that flooded from her eyes.
"Why are you crying, Lady Gwîneth?" Merry asked.
The lady shook her head in response, unable to say a word. Meanwhile, Mallorn, who pulled away from her, seemed to be in another place.
"And you, as well, Prince Mallorn. Why are you crying?" Pippin asked.
Raising one hand, Mallorn touched his cheek, only to discover that he was indeed crying.
"Míreth has died, Pippin." He stated softly. The two hobbits stared wide-eyed in disbelief at the two elves.
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Elrohir frowned when Mallorn entered their chambers almost an hour after he had left. His expression deepened as he noticed the frozen expression on the Mirkwood Prince's face. He watched apprehensively as the blond elf walked to their bed and threw himself onto it.
The Peredhel jumped from his seat by the window when he heard soft sobs coming from his lover.
'Mallorn, what happened?' he asked anxiously as he sat by the weeping elf. 'Mallorn!' Gently, he lifted the blond's body in order to see his face. Mallorn's handsome face was already drenched in tears. 'Mallorn, what is it?'
'There is no use,' The blond elf whispered softly. 'It's as if we were cursed. No matter how much we try, it all ends in death.'
'Death?' Elrohir asked in alarm. 'What do you mean? Mallorn, what happened? Who has died?' His mind twisting in panic, as he recalled Aragorn's talk about the attempt on Legolas' life.
'Elrohir,' Mallorn said as his dislodged himself from the Peredhel. 'We can't remain together anymore.'
'What?!'
Mallorn looked directly into his lover's eyes before whispering softly. 'We must end this affair.'
'Affair?' Elrohir asked angrily. 'Is that how you regard our love? A mere affair? Do you want to end it so you can run to your previous lover, Gwîneth?'
'IT'S NOT ABOUT GWÎNETH!' Mallorn cried in anguish. 'If we remain together, then something is surely bound to happen to you! Why can't you see? I'll certainly lose you if we stayed together.' With that, the blond leaned against a stunned Elrohir and sobbed.
The dark-haired elf remained silent for few moments as Mallorn's words slowly registered into his mind.
'What are you talking about?' he finally asked softly, wrapping his arms around his lover. 'Tell me, Mallorn, please.'
'We're destined to lose our loved ones. Adar had lost Nana, Aredhel lost his first child, and Legolas lost Haldir and now lost his daughter. Our happiness is always short-lived. We can never be happy, ever. We're cursed, Elrohir, cursed!'
Elrohir felt his heart compressed tightly at Mallorn's words, partly because of the news of Míreth's death but mostly because of Mallorn's sudden confession. He finally understood what had always stood between him and Mallorn. He understood what was holding Mallorn from following his heart. His arms unconsciously tightened around the blond elf as he buried his face in his golden mane.
'I'll never leave you, Mallorn.' He whispered softly. 'I love you so much. I'll never leave you.'
'I'll end up losing you in the end.' Mallorn whispered.
'No, you will not.' Elrohir said sharply as he pulled his lover away, locking their eyes together.
'Mallorn, look at me!' He waited until Mallorn's eyes met his. 'Mallorn, neither you nor any of your family are cursed. What your family has gone through were series of unfortunate events, yes, but they were purely by chance.'
'Weren't you listening to me?' Mallorn exclaimed angrily. 'Legolas has just lost his daughter; after all he went through to keep her! What makes you think that I won't lose you as well?'
Feeling rage rising inside of him, Elrohir held Mallorn's shoulders tightly as he sternly looked into his lover's eyes. 'Everything that happened and will happen is the Valar's will. We can't halt our lives simply because we ran into some sorrow and sadness during them. Adar always said that everything happens for a reason. We may not know it but always trust that life will move on. I love you, Mallorn, and I'll never abandon you because of silly notions. I'll love you until the end of time and I'll fight the whole world in order to stay by your side. You have to believe this, Mallorn.'
Mallorn stared at his lover, still unable to shake his fears away. He was surprised at the realization of how much he had come to love the dark-haired elf and how much fear resided in his heart because of it but hearing Elrohir's claims of undying love made him realize that he too, wasn't about to forsake his love for anything in the world. Unable to hold himself back, Mallorn crushed his lips too Elrohir's, pulling the Peredhel into a tight embrace.
Using his body, Elrohir pushed Mallorn down, mouths still fused together. His hands slowly opened the laces of the blond elf's tunic followed by the laces of his shirt.
As the two broke for air, the Peredhel looked deeply into the wood elf's eyes. 'I want to make love to you.' He whispered gently.
Mallorn stared uncertainly at his lover and he was unable to ignore the fear that filled his heart.
Seeing fear shining from his lover's eyes, Elrohir leaned down again and captured Mallorn's lips fervently as his hands slowly traveling downward to loosen the laces of the blonde's leggings before they moved up again and started to play with his nipples.
Mallorn moaned into Elrohir's mouth as the Peredhel's hands skillfully teased his nipples and felt himself harden.
Feeling his lover's erect coming to full attention from underneath his clothes, Elrohir moved his mouth and started to trail teasing kisses on Mallorn's jaw and neckline as his hands started to unfasten his own clothes.
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The two lay motionless for few moments before slowly, the raven-haired elf rolled over next to Mallorn.
The blond elf, then, shifted and rested his head on his lover's strong chest.
'I love you, Elrohir.' He whispered softly. 'But I'm still afraid.' Tears fell silently down his cheeks. 'Legolas loved Haldir with all his heart but he lost him and now he's lost his daughter…I don't think I can bear such tragedy if it ever happened to me.'
Elrohir kissed the top of Mallorn's golden head and hugged him tightly. 'Everything will be fine, Mallorn, I promise. For now, you have to become strong for your brother's sake. He will need all the support he can get, but you won't be any help for him like this. I'll be your strength, Mallorn. I'll always be your strength and support, my love.' He paused a little before adding. 'Do you regret this?'
Mallorn sat up, so that he could look down into his lover's dark eyes. 'No.' he replied. 'You've made me realize how much I love you. I needed this to comfort me.'
Elrohir smiled as he brought his hand to caress his lover's cheek.
'Have you seen Aragorn or Legolas when you went there?' he asked. 'They must be devastated.' He said in a sad tone.
'They are.' Mallorn replied as he lay back. 'Aragorn was already gone when I went, but Gwîneth told me how despondent he was. As for Legolas, he was sleeping at the time but Gwîneth told me that Aragorn said something about Legolas being up all night. I can only imagine the amount of grief he was feeling.'
'We'll help them through this difficult time, Meleth. We will be strong for them.' Elrohir assured softly.
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Glorfindel stormed through the corridors, heading to Elrond's quarters. Tears of grief and anger were welling up in his eyes, but Glorfindel didn't allow them to fall. His heart was tight with rage and heartbreak.
The news of Míreth's death caused an uproar throughout the citadel when Faramir had made the announcement. As soon as he heard, the blond lord headed to Elrond's chambers.
The guards at Elrond's door stood at attention but made no attempt to stop him as he walked past. During the last month, ever since the King appointed him responsible of the poisoning attempt investigation, Glorfindel gained a profound reputation among the elite royal guards.
'Elrond!' The blond elf's voice thundered as he entered the bedchamber. 'Is it true?' He froze upon seeing Imladris' lord sitting in a chair, hunched over with his head resting on the back of his clutched hands.
'Elrond,' Glorfindel called again with low voice. 'Is it true that Míreth—,'
He couldn't continue his question as the thought of the little princess dead made his heart clenched.
Elrond raised his head, revealing a tired face and swollen eyes. 'Yes.' He replied softly.
'How?' Glorfindel whispered.
'I'm not sure.' Elrond said. 'I was summoned late last night, but when I arrived to Estel's chambers, she was already gone.'
'You told me that she was getting healthier.' Glorfindel mentioned, noticing the tear that slid down Imladris' lord's cheek.
'That's what I thought,' Elrond said somberly. 'Aside from her fever fits, she was perfectly healthy. She shouldn't have—,' The ancient lord couldn't hold back the sob that tore itself from his lips. 'I don't know what went wrong, Glorfindel.' He lamented.
'I know what went wrong, Elrond.' Glorfindel said furiously. 'Treason is what went wrong.' With that, the blond elf stormed out of the chambers.
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Mortardur let a long deep sigh as he stared gravely at the burning flames in the fireplace, completely lost in thoughts. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to be relieved that the King's magic spawn was finally out of the way, but he wasn't, he was terrified. A dark apprehension filled his heart and soul as soon as he heard Faramir's announcement this morning. For some odd reason, he was starting to think that poisoning the Prince and his daughter was a huge mistake; maybe the fear of getting caught or perhaps his conscience was yowling in guilt, either way, he wasn't pleased with the death of the little Princess.
The young lord gritted his teeth in frustration as the sound of his wife's weeping filled his ears.
"Will you stop your annoying weeping, woman?!" he yelled, glaring behind him at where his wife sat.
The lady looked up at him confusedly with red eyes. "What's the matter with you?" she asked. "Aren't you a bit sad at death of our Princess?"
Mortardur huffed angrily in response. "I don't understand why in Middle-Earth you are so upset about her? If one saw you, they would think that she was your child!"
"How could you say that?! I have seen the little thing and she was the most beautiful baby I have ever seen in my life."
"When did that happened?" Mortardur asked angrily, glaring at his wife.
"Two weeks ago." his wife admitted. "I visited Prince Legolas with a group of the court's ladies to pay our respects. Princess Míreth was the most precious little thing in all of Middle-Earth. What would you do if it was our baby who died?"
The young lord growled in rage at his wife's words. He wasn't in the mood to entertain some womanly silly notions at all.
"Go to your bed, woman. I'm not in the mood to listen to your whining." He barked.
Giving her husband a stern look, the lady stood up and walked away.
"Women!" The lord huffed under his breath as he stared back at the fire.
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Aragorn approached the royal wing with heavy unwilling steps. He had spent his day hiding in his office, away from everyone while Faramir dealt with all the official matters that concerned his daughter's death. Even though his behavior could be viewed as weak, he was unconcerned. He simply couldn't deal with anything that was linked to Míreth's death. Therefore, he busied himself with the daily affairs of his kingdom rather than dwelling on his own pain.
However now, he had to return to his quarters and face Legolas and all of their grieving friends and family.
'May Valar help me and give me the strength!' He silently prayed.
As he reached the Wing's main doors, the two guards stood at attention.
"Your Majesty," said one of them as he came close. "Please, accept our sincerest condolences for the loss of the little Princess. No parent should bury their own child. It's a great loss to us all."
The King looked deeply into the guards' eyes, finding nothing but true compassion and sympathy in them. There were simple people with no ambition other than to serve their country and their King. Aragorn found the guard's words soothing to his aching heart.
Placing a hand on the guard's shoulder, Aragorn forced a small smile on his lips.
"Thank you." He whispered softly before entering the Wing. The guards on his personal quarters offered a similar condolence to their King, providing him with another source of comfort.
When Aragorn entered his chambers, he was greeted by his family and friends, all gathered in the living room. The young hobbits were sitting at one corner, still crying their hearts out. He understood; they were very fond of Míreth. Mallorn and Elrohir were sitting together at one corner. Upon seeing him, his brother stood and was about to approach him but Aragorn shook his head slightly, not wanting to hear anything. His father and Glorfindel sat silently on a couch, deeply lost in thoughts. Gwîneth, on the other hand, jumped from her place and walked up to him as soon as he was inside the room.
"Your Majesty," she spoke. "Please, you are the only one who can help us. Legolas hasn't left his bedchamber since yesterday."
"What?" Aragorn asked in alarm.
"Aye, my Lord." She replied. "When I tried to enter his bedchamber this morning, it was locked from the inside. I knocked and called but no one answered me. I waited and waited, in hopes that he would eventually leave his room, but he didn't. He hasn't eaten anything all day long and I fear that he might have done something to himself." At this, Gwîneth burst into tears. Glorfindel, quickly, stood up and took her into his arms.
"Please, calm yourself. I'll take care of it. In the meantime, can you order the servants to bring a light meal of fruits and bread?"
Nodding, the lady pulled away from Glorfindel and went to carry out the King's orders.
The man marched to the bedchamber and tried the knob but found the door locked. Knocking, he waited for a reply but received none. He knocked again.
"Legolas, it's I, Aragorn. Open the door." Few moments later, everybody heard the soft click of the lock opening before the door slightly opened. Aragorn raised his hand as he noticed Mallorn standing up as the door opened, but he shook his head at the blond Prince, before entering the bedchamber.
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The room was almost dark with only the remains of a dying fire in the fireplace to illuminate the place. Aragorn shivered slightly when he entered, noting how cold the room was. He waited until his eyes got used to the dark before moving to the fireplace. His eyes could make out Legolas' form returning back to the bed after opening the door.
Aragorn placed some logs into the fireplace and moved the ashes around, rekindling the fire once more. Since Legolas had locked himself up all day in the room, the King mused, the servants hadn't been able to change the candles on the candleholders. Once more light brightened the room, he moved to a small cabinet where some candles were stored and replaced the candles before lightening them up as well. Taking care of the light, Aragorn took off his light crown used for daily affairs and placed it on the mantel before proceeding to take off his boots, over-robe and tunic, leaving just his shirt and leggings. Soft knocks were heard on the chamber's door as soon as he done undressing. Glancing at the prone elf, Aragorn sighed before walking over to the door. He opened it only enough to allow him to take the tray that Lady Gwîneth was carrying. The blond lady tried to look over his shoulder but failed.
"Don't worry." The man whispered softly. "I promise I'll take good care of him." the Elleth nodded in response. "Tell the others to go back to their rooms. There is no sense in staying here all night." With that, he pushed the door closed with his foot.
Placing the tray of food on the small table in the sitting area, Aragorn walked to the large bed. Slightly kneeling on one leg on the mattress, he touched the elf's shoulder.
"Legolas," he called softly. "Legolas, you have to eat." But the elf didn't even stir. He remained curled over himself into fetal position, hugging the still body of Míreth.
Aragorn blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes and took a deep breath before trying once more. "Legolas, please. Gwîneth brought some fruits and bread." Still he failed to exact a reaction from the blond elf. Sighing, the man entered the bed and gently tried to roll his husband over. "Legolas, look at me, please."
Legolas looked up at Aragorn with dead eyes, two silvery trails of tears stained his pale face.
"Legolas, you have to eat something," The king said coaxingly.
"I want to stay with Míreth." The elf whispered softly, before rolling back over and hugging his daughter's body.
Aragorn sighed deeply. "Legolas, she's gone." He stated simply, though his heart was tearing. "You have to accept that she's gone." A muffed sob escaped from Legolas in response.
"We have to bury her, Legolas." Tears fell silently from his eyes as Aragorn continued. 'Saes, Legolas, don't make it harder on both of us than it is.'
Slowly, Legolas' body began to uncurl before he sat up, looking at his husband.
"Let's go and eat something, Meleth." Aragorn requested gently.
Legolas nodded and with his husband's help got off the bed.
The elf silently let go of his husband's hand and headed to the bathroom.
Aragorn looked at the still body of Míreth sadly before he gently leaned over and took her into his arms. Lifting the velvet blanket off her face, the king felt a bang of grief filling his heart upon seeing Míreth's beautiful pale face.
'You would've been very happy, my beautiful Jewel. I would've made sure of that.' A single tear fell down and splashed on Míreth's cheek.
Hearing the bathroom's door opening, Aragorn placed the babe once more on the bed before looking up to find Legolas standing there, staring at him.
Silently, the man walked to the blond elf and led him to the sitting area. They sat in silence, eating their first meal of the day. Once finished, they both retired to their bed and slept, hugging their daughter for the last time.
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*Mirkwood*
Tarawiel sighed deeply as she paced in front of the fireplace in her bedchamber. For unknown reasons, her husband had locked himself in the study since the morning and refused to come out or even open the door for her. Her husband's personal advisor had told her that the Crown Prince had received a letter from Gondor that upset him greatly. The advisor didn't know what the letter contained but he said that the Prince's face had turned ashen upon reading it.
Tarawiel had been on the edge of her patience since then, wondering what had upset her husband so much, but no one around her could give her a satisfying answer. The Noldo elleth feared that something terrible had happened to her father-in-law or one of her brothers-in-law.
The huge wooden doors suddenly opened, causing the Princess to nearly jump from fright. She let out a relieved sigh as she saw Aredhel standing in front of her.
'Gûr nîn (My heart),' she exclaimed as she rushed as fast as her body allowed her to his side. 'What happened? Túrin told me that you've received a letter from Gondor. Has something happened? Is King Thran—' Tarawiel halted as her husband suddenly took her into his arms, hugging her tightly. She slowly raised her arms and hugged him back, Aredhel rarely showed his emotions, even to his wife, but on those rare occasions, his tough exterior would crack and he would need someone to comfort him. After being married to him for almost 4 centuries, Tarawiel learned not to ask about his troubles but rather wait for him to come himself and ask to be comforted. Therefore, she waited patiently for him to pour his heart out to her.
Pulling away from the hug, Aredhel looked deeply into his wife's brown eyes before leaning downwards and capturing her red lips into a tender kiss. Breaking away, Aredhel spoke softly. 'I have received a letter from Gondor, informing me that Míreth, Legolas' child, has passed away.'
Tarawiel gasped in horror. 'But she's still a babe.'
Aredhel looked at his wife sadly. 'Our child was a mere babe when he died.' He whispered tenderly, his blue eyes full of pain and sorrow.
Tarawiel's beautiful face betrayed the pain the dwelled in her heart upon hearing her husband's words. Their firstborn child had been born prematurely and died few moments after his birth. His death had caused them, as well as their family, great sorrow that had never truly healed. Now, Tarawiel understood perfectly why Aredhel had locked himself in the study and didn't want to see her. She understood why he was now holding her tightly as if she would vanish if he ever let go.
Cupping his cheeks with her hand, Tarawiel smiled, though her eyes were filled with tears. 'Everything will be all right, Meleth. The loss of Legolas' daughter is a tragic event but we will manage to get through. And if Legolas has lost his little jewel, then our child will be the jewel that shines through these dark times.' She paused suddenly, blinking before her face broke into a bright smile. 'Our child has talked to me, Mell nîn. (My beloved.) He has named himself.'
Aredhel's eyes widened in wonder. 'What?'
'Míriedir (He Who Shines/Sparkles Like a Jewel); He shall be named Míriedir.' She whispered tenderly.
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T. B. C.