The morning sickness seemed to hit Arwen particularly hard. Aragorn had ordered the cooks always to keep a supply of rusks on hand, as they seemed to be the only food that Arwen could keep down. After a few days, Arwen began to keep a small plate of rusks and a mug of weak tea with her wherever she went. She did not eat proper meals, but nibbled instead at the rusks throughout the day. At first, Aragorn worried that his wife was not eating enough, but as Arwen did not show any signs of starvation, he gradually stopped worrying.

He had sent a message to Ithilien with the fastest courier in the stable asking that a skilled Elven midwife be sent to Minas Tirith to attend the Queen. He had ordered that a suite of rooms near the royal suite be made up and instructed the guards at the city gate that any messengers from the Elves be sent to him immediately, no matter what he might be doing at the time.

Gradually, Arwen became rather withdrawn. She began to lose interest in conversation, preferring to spend more and more time curled in the window seat working at a long girdle she was embroidering for Éowyn of Ithilien. Her ladies reported that when they gathered to do tapestry, the sessions were no longer merry and filled with gossip and laughter. The Queen had not forbidden such talk, but her long silences had gradually stilled the tongues of her women. Arwen still enjoyed gardening, in particular the cultivation of her patch of different strains of athelas. Aragorn guessed that the scent of the plant eased her morning sickness, and Ioreth agreed with him when he mentioned it.

"Aye," she said. "An old country remedy, it is, among the folk of Lossarnach. A woman newly with child would carry a nosegay of the plant -- kingsfoil they call it there -- and breathe its scent when she felt faint. The custom has spread throughout the city as well, in recent years."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at that. It seemed that there was far more to the world of women than he had ever suspected.

The night was as hard on Arwen as the day. She did not sleep as easily as she had before, and when she did sleep, her rest was light and plagued with nightmares. On the worst nights, Aragorn would wake to find her gone. He did not exactly worry about her; she was, after all, Queen in the Citadel, and he was reasonably sure that she would come to no harm. He did wonder where she went, and if she was finding peace there.

One week, Arwen left the bedroom every night. Upon waking to find her missing for the seventh night in a row, Aragorn decided to take action. He lit a candle from the banked embers in the hearth and carried it out into the hall. The guard outside the door stood to attention.

"Did the Queen pass by here?" Aragorn asked him.

"Yes, my Lord," the guard answered.

"Did she mention her destination to you?"

"No, my Lord," the guard said. "But she took the same path she has taken these past six nights, and many nights before that. Always when my Lady walks at night, she follows the left-hand corridor."

"Thank you," Aragorn said, and turned down the left-hand corridor. Whenever he found a guard or another resident of the Citadel awake, he asked if they had seen Arwen passing. In this way, he followed her path down many levels to the Archives. He found Halandir sitting on a bench outside the suite, idly leafing through a volume of Númenorean romances. At the sound of the King's footsteps, the Archivist leaped to his feet.

"My Lord," he said. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to your Archives."

Aragorn smiled at the man. "Was it also your pleasure to welcome the Queen an hour ago?" he asked.

Halandir nodded. "My Lady the Queen is within," he said. "She has often come here of an evening. She wishes to be alone in the Archives, and always I have granted her that wish. But my Lord may rest assured, always I sit awake outside the door so that none may disturb my Lady as she reads."

"Did she ask this of you?"

"No, my Lord. I sit because I know that, had I a fair wife who wished to visit the Archives at midnight, I would want the Archivist to sit up for her. I would do no less for my Queen than I would for my own family."

Aragorn nodded. "You are a good man, Halandir," he said. "I will not forget this kindness." Halandir bowed, and Aragorn turned toward the stair. As he started the return journey to his suite, he noted Halandir settling back down with his book of romances to watch over Arwen as long as she might need him.

Five days later, Aragorn was holding his weekly small claims court. Two farmers stood before him and argued ownership of an elderly molly mule. The mule herself had been brought into the court as evidence -- something involving various small markings on her body -- and she stood placidly twitching her tail. Aragorn tried to look interested in the tales told by the farmers, but feared it was a losing battle. He wondered if the mule was as bored as he was. Looking in her direction, the King was amused to see the animal wink at him, almost as if she understood how he felt and sympathized with him. It was a strange world where a King could be comforted by a mule, Aragorn thought.

The sound of the door opening interrupted the steady argument. Aragorn sat a little straighter, glad of any distraction. A young man in the uniform of a gate warden -- Dafyth was his name, Aragorn remembered -- signaled from the doorway that he wished to be recognized.

"One moment," Aragorn said to the farmers. "Come in, Dafyth."

Dafyth strode smartly to the dais where the King sat and bowed deeply. "My Lord," he said, "I was ordered to report to my Lord immediately should a messenger from the Elves appear at our gates."

"Yes," Aragorn said. "Has one arrived?"

Dafyth straightened out of his bow. "My Lord," he said. "A great lady and her entourage have entered the City. They . . . they are Elves, My Lord!"

Aragorn smiled at the young man. "Thank you, Dafyth," he said. "See to it that the lady and her escorts are shown to the rooms prepared for them and given an opportunity to refresh themselves. When they have done so, I will gladly receive them in my private drawing room." Dafyth clicked his heels sharply as he saluted, turned and marched out of the court room.

The two farmers watched him go and then looked at each other and at the mule. "Well," one said to the other. "I suppose it'd be only right that the beast board with you, seeing as how you've got a stall in your stables and plenty of grain to spare. But perhaps I might borrow back her services at plowing time every now and again?"

"Agreed," the other farmer said. Both farmers shook hands and bowed to the King. "We thank you for your wisdom, my Lord," they said quickly. Aragorn nodded at them with as much royal solemnity as he could muster. The farmer who had won custody of the mule took up her lead rope.

"Come along, old Jennet," he said. "You wouldn't want to miss the chance to see a great lady of the Fair Folk, now would you?" And the two farmers and the mule left the small claims court, happy to have had their say and excited to see the Elves' procession into the City.

The farmers were not the only ones who were excited, Aragorn noted as he went to ready the drawing room. Through the open window, he could see the citizens of Minas Tirith dropping their work to run and gawk at the second procession of Elves through the streets in a year.

An hour after the noise and commotion had died down, a page knocked discreetly at the door of the royal drawing room. "Come in," Aragorn said, as he rose to greet his guest.

The door opened, and a tall, pale Elf lady glided in. As the lady swept a graceful curtsey, Aragorn caught a glimpse of her eyes, and was stunned by the depth and age he saw there.

"My Lord Elessar, Elf-stone, friend of my people," the lady began in a deep, mellow voice. "I come in answer to your summons. I am Doronrîn, formerly of Mirkwood, now resident in Ithilien. I have some small skill as a midwife."

"My greetings and welcome to you, Lady Doronrîn," Aragorn said smoothly, trying to avoid gazing too deeply into those bottomless eyes. "I do not know what you have been told, so I will state the reason for my summons. My Queen, Arwen Undómiel, is with child, and I wish her to have the best of care that Men and Elves can provide."

"Then you shall have it," Doronrîn replied. "For I was midwife to a Queen once before, long ago."

Aragorn blinked in surprise. He had not known that there were other Queens of Elves in the world, and for a moment, he wondered if Doronrîn had been mistaken. Then he remembered. Doronrîn was originally from Mirkwood, and that meant --

"You were the midwife to King Thranduil's Queen?"

She nodded. "I welcomed his son into the world, who is now the Elven Lord of Ithilien."

Aragorn smiled. He should have guessed. He had asked Legolas to send the best midwife he knew, and Legolas had been true to his word. Suddenly, he felt much more comfortable in Doromîn's presence.

"Shall I have someone show you to your quarters?" he asked. "Perhaps you would care to refresh yourself after your journey."

"If you wish, I will inspect my room," Doronrîn said. "However, I am in no especial need of refreshment. I would sooner see the Queen and begin my task here."

"I believe the Queen is in her garden at the moment," Aragorn told her. "I will inform her that you have arrived and wish to meet with her. However, there is another you must meet today as well."

Doronrîn raised an eyebrow. "A midwife to the Secondborn?" she asked.

Aragorn nodded. "Her name is Ioreth, and she has the finest touch in this city for delivering children, saving only your own."

"Perhaps not," Doronrîn said. "Ioreth has delivered many children of Men, and I have delivered none. I expect to learn much from this good woman."

"Then I shall summon her immediately." Aragorn signaled for a page to fetch Ioreth and some light refreshment.

Ioreth had been in the middle of tending a small boy with whooping cough when she was summoned, and now that she found herself in the presence of the stately Elf lady, she silently cursed the page for not allowing her at least time to change her apron. She felt wizened and filthy standing in the lovely drawing room with such an intimidating creature as this Doronrîn gazing at her. At first, she was so absorbed by Doronrîn's eyes that she did not hear a word the King was saying.

". . . will learn much together."

"What?" Ioreth shook herself and felt her ears burning with embarrassment. "Beg pardon, my Lord. I was distracted."

The King smiled. "I was introducing the Lady Doronrîn, a midwife to the Elves. If I recall correctly, you had expressed an interest in learning techniques of Elvish midwifery to better attend the Queen. Doronrîn has expressed a similar interest in sharing your wisdom concerning the children of Men. I hope that you two ladies will find your task simple and I expect that you will both learn much from each other."

"I . . . would feel honored to learn from you, my Lady," Ioreth managed to choke out. Doronrîn inclined her head graciously.

"I am sure I will be so honored in turn, Mistress Ioreth," she said. Ioreth bobbed a small curtsey before she could stop herself. She was sure her face must be glowing red by now, but fortunately, neither the King nor Doronrîn seemed to have noticed. Doronrîn was as serene as Ioreth was flustered, and the King was smiling broadly.

"I am well pleased," he said. "Now that you have met one another, I shall find the Queen, that she may also make the acquaintance of the Lady Doronrîn."

The Queen appeared in short order, serenely dignified, but with her face still pink from recent scrubbing. Ioreth guessed that she had been at work in her gardens when Doronrîn had arrived. Ioreth and Doronrîn both curtseyed, and the Queen gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"Welcome, Lady Doronrîn of Ithilien," she said. "I am Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Elrond Half-Elven and Queen of Gondor and Arnor. I understand that you have been sent to attend to me after the manner of the Elves."

Doronrîn nodded. "I was summoned at the request of the Lady Ioreth. I was told that she desired the aid and assistance of an Elvish midwife."

"Then you are most welcome," the Queen said. "Although I admit that I do not understand the importance of the request. I am not entirely of Elf-kind."

"Begging my Lady's pardon," Ioreth said stoutly, "neither is my Lady entirely of the race of Men. My Lady's not quite one nor the other, and there's no telling which way the child will look."

"Indeed," Doronrîn said. "Mistress Ioreth is correct. None can see all ends, nor the paths we may yet tread. It may be that my knowledge will not be required during your confinement. Nevertheless, Ioreth has deemed it in your best interests that I be here, and it is always better to have what one does not need than to need what one does not have."

The Queen smiled, her cheeks flushing a deeper pink. Ioreth was amazed. Clearly, this Doronrîn must be a great lady among the Elves, if she could cause the Queen of Gondor to blush like a schoolgirl.

"Of course," the Queen said to Doronrîn. "Your counsel is wise. I did not mean to deny you welcome, for welcome you are. I am aware that quarters have been prepared for you. Shall I show them to you?"

"That would be most kind," Doronrîn answered. "But first, I would ask to be allowed to examine you, that I might make myself familiar with your body and its needs. Ioreth may be present, if she wishes."

Ioreth was not entirely comfortable with the cavalier way in which Doronrîn gave away the Queen's privacy, but the Queen merely nodded.

"That would be wise," she said. "Come. I will show you to your rooms. You may take your rest first. I think that I shall present myself to be examined at the fourth hour after noon in my quarters. A page will escort you." With that, the Queen swept out of the room, followed by Doronrîn.

"Well," Ioreth said to no one in particular. "This will certainly be an adventure for an old woman."

The examination of the Queen proved to be yet another surprise in a day full of them. At precisely the fourth hour after noon, Doronrîn and Ioreth were ushered into the King and Queen's suite. The Queen was sitting calmly on the great bed waiting for them. There was a brief exchange of pleasantries, and then Doronrîn asked the Queen to remove all of her clothes. Ioreth felt the blood rushing to her cheeks again. She had taken care only to examine the Queen under modest drapery, and her first instinct was to screech and scold this impertinent Elf lady for her impropriety.

However, the Queen did not seem at all troubled by the request. She nodded gravely, rose and began to strip off her dress. Ioreth, suddenly feeling prudish indeed, turned her head away discreetly. After a few moments, she felt a cool hand on her shoulder.

"Come, Mistress Ioreth," Doronrîn said. "We are ready to begin."

Ioreth turned around to find the Queen once again sitting on the bed, wearing naught but a shawl wrapped around her form. She noted that the Queen looked mildly apprehensive and was secretly relieved to know that she was not alone in finding Doronrîn intimidating. Ioreth took a tentative step toward the bed, and the Queen caught her hand.

"Ioreth," she said, "I am glad you are here."

Doronrîn's examination proved to be very thorough indeed, starting with the state of the Queen's hair and working downward. At every step, the Elf midwife kept up a running commentary, explaining to both Ioreth and the Queen what she was testing in each phase of the examination. Ioreth had never seen such detailed knowledge of the body, and felt herself growing more educated by the second.

". . . hair is thick and lustrous, and well rooted," Doronrîn was murmuring. She released the Queen's scalp and peered into her eyes. "Bright and clear," she declared. "No red lace or cloudiness."

"My Lady, has the morning sickness abated?" Ioreth put in. Doronrîn quirked an eyebrow at the question. The Queen shrugged gracefully.

"It afflicts me still," she said, "although each bout is less than the one before."

"What is this morning sickness?" Doronrîn asked. "I know of no reason that a child-to-be would sicken its mother. Ioreth, is this not an ill sign?"

"Why, no," Ioreth said, surprised. "It is a common ailment. The beginnings of pregnancy are often heralded by nausea and sickness. I never knew the cause, but it seems to have no ill effect on the mother or the babe." Doronrîn looked mildly shocked, and Ioreth tilted her head to one side. "Do Elf women not suffer from the morning sickness?" she asked.

"None that I have attended has ever complained of it," Doronrîn answered.

"I suppose," the Queen said, "that I am afflicted because I am not fully an Elf."

"That is the likely answer," Doronrîn said. Her eyes flickered from Ioreth to the Queen and back again uncertainly, as if they both shared in a joke which she did not understand. "If you are certain that this ailment causes no lasting harm?"

"I am," Ioreth said.

"Then we shall continue the examination." Doronrîn nodded calmly to Ioreth, and Ioreth was sure she saw a new glimmer of respect in the Elf's eyes.

In short order, they examined every inch of the Queen's body. Doronrîn pronounced the Queen fit and healthy, though given to strange mortal afflictions. The pregnancy seemed to have settled firmly, and both Doronrîn and Ioreth were of the opinion that the Queen's body was not about to reject the new life within.

"I believe, my Lady," Ioreth said, "that the time is ripe to announce the impending arrival of the child to the people of this City."

"I will speak to my husband," the Queen replied. "The announcement will be arranged within the week."

"They will be happy to hear it," Ioreth said. "It has been far too long since the Citadel was blessed with a babe. It would have been Faramir, and that so long ago. . . I can still hear his little footsteps as he pattered around . . . " Ioreth lost herself in happy reverie. Doronrîn looked as though she were trying mightily to contain her horror at the cheerful discussion of the Prince of Ithilien in clouts, and the Queen actually giggled. She sounded merrier than she had since her first twinges of morning sickness, and Ioreth relaxed inwardly, quite glad now that Doronrîn had arrived.