The next day, Aragorn sat comfortably on a cushioned seat in a canopied wagon with Arwen, idly watching the scenery as the wagon trundled towards Ithilien. It was not his favorite mode of travel, but he would rather have Arwen by his side than make the swifter journey on horseback without her. Arwen bent contentedly over a small lap desk, writing diligently.

"What do you write?" Aragorn asked.

"It is a project suggested by Halandir," Arwen answered. "I do not think the time has come to speak further of it yet."

"You are full of mystery of late."

Arwen smiled apologetically at him. "I am sorry. I give you my word that I will speak of this project with you. It is likely that I will speak of it so much that you will wish you had never asked of it to begin with. But there are others with whom I would speak first."

"Then I will wait," Aragorn said with exaggerated patience. Arwen laughed and laid her manuscript away in the chamber of the lap desk.

"That is enough for now, in any event," she said. "The day is warm and scented, and the cushions are soft, and my love sits beside me. I will soak in the sun and the air and be content." She set the lap desk on the floor of the wagon and lay down across the seat with her head in Aragorn's lap. Aragorn caressed her silky dark hair and laid one hand on the swell of her belly.

"There is our child," he murmured. "He is dreaming pleasant dreams as he grows. I wonder if he feels the warmth of the day."

"I hope he feels the sun," Arwen said. "He will be born in the cold of winter, and it will be long before he knows the warmth of the sun on his skin."

"It is strange to think that he is here with us, and yet we know nothing of him."

"He is traveling to meet us, even as we are traveling to Ithilien," Arwen said drowsily. "May his journey be as pleasant as this one."

The wagon creaked slowly along the road. Aragorn listened to the song of the cicadas as he caressed his wife and his unborn child. The King and Queen of Gondor and Arnor relaxed and let the warmth and contentedness of the moment lull them into a pleasant doze.

They reached Ithilien just as the sun sank beneath the horizon in a sea of red and purple. Faramir's grooms took the wagon to the carriage house to unhitch the horses as a page escorted the royal couple to the manor house. A herald blew a short blast on a trumpet to announce their arrival, and the guards at the door bowed as Aragorn and Arwen entered the reception hall of the manor.

"Welcome, my Lord! Welcome, my Lady!" Faramir strode across the room to embrace Aragorn and place a delicate kiss on Arwen's knuckles.

"Faramir," Aragorn greeted his Steward. "It has been too long."

"Indeed it has."

"They're here, Mama! They're here!" Faramir and Éowyn's six-year-old son Elboron trotted across the room followed by Éowyn, who carried his toddler sister Olwyn. Faramir smiled and laid a hand on his son's shoulder.

"That is the King," he said. "How does a polite little boy greet a King?"

Elboron pointed his toe and bowed. "How do you do, my Lord King," he chanted.

"Very well, young Master Elboron," Aragorn answered. Elboron grinned and turned to Arwen. He inspected her for a moment, his hands behind his back.

"Are you an Elf?" he asked.

"I am mostly an Elf," Arwen answered gravely, but Aragorn could see a twinkle in her eyes. Elboron turned excitedly to Éowyn.

"She's an Elf, Mama!" he cried. "She's an Elf, just like Legolas!"

"I can see that, Elboron," Éowyn said. She nodded to Aragorn, unable to make a full curtsey with the child in her arms. "My Lord Aragorn, it is a pleasure to receive you. My Lady Arwen, your presence is most delightful."

"I am happy to see you again, Éowyn," Arwen said. She tilted her head to look at Éowyn's small daughter. "And this must be Olwyn."

"Yes, indeed," Éowyn said. "Olwyn, can you greet the King and Queen? Can you say hello?" Olwyn buried her face in Éowyn's shoulder, then twisted a little to peer suspiciously at Aragorn and Arwen. "I think she is shy right now," Éowyn said. "She will warm to you in time, no doubt."

"She is very beautiful," Arwen said. Éowyn beamed, every inch the proud mother.

"Come," Faramir said. "We must not keep our royal guests waiting. Surely you are tired from your long journey. Your rooms have been prepared, and after you have washed the dust of the road away, a hot supper awaits you."

"Lead on," Aragorn said happily. As a liveried servant ushered them up the stairs, Arwen turned back. Olwyn reached out her hand and waved a tiny wave at Arwen. Arwen smiled and waved back before ascending the stairs to the guest quarters.

Faramir told the full tale of the Haradrim later that evening as they dined. "You do not see it at the moment, but there is a large caravan train camped over the ridge. They appeared three days ago and requested a parley with the lord of the land. When I came to speak with them, their messenger announced that they had come to negotiate a trade agreement with Gondor."

"That is strange," Aragorn said. "We already have a trade agreement with Harad. We exchange goods at the trading post near the Crossings of Poros. We offer surplus grain for silk and oranges. That trading post has been active for many years."

"And such did I tell the messenger," Faramir agreed. "However, it seems that they want something different. They wish to expand the trade agreement and lessen the guard on the border. They wish more ports of access in which to sell their goods."

"I believe they wish an arrangement similar to the one between Gondor and Rohan," Éowyn put in.

"That would be difficult to arrange," Aragorn remarked. "Rohan has always been the friend and ally of Gondor, whereas Harad recently took up arms in the cause of Sauron."

"I, too, found such a request difficult to imagine," Faramir said. "But these traders seem peaceful enough, and so, with your leave, I had thought at least to meet with them and begin discussions."

"That is fair enough," Aragorn decided. "I see no harm that can come from talking. We will meet tomorrow, then. As Prince of this land, you, Faramir, will naturally be present. Know you if Gondor will be the only power in this land to treat with the Haradrim?"

Faramir gave the delicate shrug that always reminded Aragorn of Ecthelion. "I sent a message to the Elves. Whether or not they appear is their own business. I do not know what they will decide."

"I cannot aid you there," Aragorn said. "Were the lord of the Elves of Ithilien Thranduil and not Legolas, I would have no difficulty in guessing their decision. But in truth, I cannot tell you what Legolas might think in this matter."

"Well, we will find out tomorrow, then," Faramir said. "I have scheduled the negotiations to begin at the third hour after sunrise."

"In that case, I will take my leave of you early," Aragorn said. "There is much that I would prepare for such a meeting." The company rose and made their way to their rooms to retire for the night.

Aragorn met Faramir in the council chambers shortly before the third hour after sunrise the next morning. Faramir was reading over a letter. When Aragorn arrived, he pushed it across the table. "The Elves have sent their reply."

Aragorn picked up the letter, which was written in Legolas's careful script. It said that the Elves of Ithilien had little interest in a trading relationship with Harad, but that they would honor any alliances that Gondor wished to make with Harad and requested a message if any such alliances were to be forged. Aragorn nodded as he came to the end of the letter, which consisted of personal greetings to the King and Queen and to the Prince and Princess of Ithilien. "He is his father's son."

"Have you met Thranduil?" Faramir asked.

"I have. He is a formidable character."

"Perhaps you might tell me some tales of an evening?"

"Perhaps." The trumpets of the heralds blared. Aragorn rose and bade Faramir do the same. "And so it begins. Harad is arrived, and Gondor will welcome her."

Arwen had joined Éowyn in the morning chamber, where they sipped at cups of peppermint tea and watched Olwyn play in a patch of sunshine. "I am glad that you are here," Éowyn said. "You are a perfect excuse not to join the ladies of the town in making soap and candles."

Arwen laughed, remembering many summer days spent over great smelly kettles of steaming fat in Imladris. "I am happy to provide you with such an excuse, then."

Just then, Elboron ran into the room. "Mama, Mama!" he cried, dropping a slate in Éowyn's lap. "Look! I can write my name!"

Éowyn examined the slate. "That is very nice, Elboron. Will you greet the Queen politely?"

Elboron bobbed a bow. "Hello, Elf Queen!"

Arwen rose from her seat and dropped an elegant curtsey. "Hello, young Master Elboron."

Elboron studied Arwen for a moment. "You've got a bump," he announced. Arwen hid a smile behind her hand. Éowyn turned bright red and glared at her son.

"Elboron! Did I not tell you that it is rude to make personal remarks like that? You will apologize to the Queen."

"Sorry," Elboron chirped quickly. "But you do have one," he added.

Arwen knelt down in front of him. "Do you know what the bump is?" she asked. Elboron shook his head. "It is a baby," Arwen told him. "It is a baby that has not yet been born."

"Mama had a bump before Olwyn was born. But it was a much bigger bump."

"Mine will grow, I assure you. It will be some months before this baby is born."

"And that is enough from you," Éowyn told Elboron. "Go back to your schoolroom and practice your writing. See if you can write Olwyn's name."

"Yes, Mama." Elboron kissed his sister, retrieved his slate, and trotted out of the morning chamber.

"I do apologize for him," Éowyn said. "He has been very curious about you for several days."

"It is no matter," Arwen replied. "I will have my own to worry about soon enough."

"When do you expect your child to arrive?"

Arwen sat silent for a moment. She looked out the window at the sunny garden with its white paths and slender fruit trees. Then she dropped her head and stared at her hands twisting in her lap. "I do not know exactly," she admitted. "The midwives tell me that it will be in the winter, but they cannot say more precisely. There have been few enough children born to Elves and Men together that none can say quite what I should expect."

Éowyn studied her friend for a moment. "You seem troubled by this pregnancy," she observed. Arwen looked sharply at her, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. "Will you share your worries?" Éowyn asked.

Arwen turned away and took two deep, shuddery breaths, trying to calm herself. From her patch of sunlight on the floor, Olwyn seemed to sense that all was not well in the morning chamber. She climbed to her feet and toddled unsteadily towards Arwen, fetching up against her knees. Arwen looked down into Olwyn's large, worried eyes and felt her self-control dissolve. Éowyn pulled her daughter onto her lap as Arwen bent over and began to weep.

Aragorn kept his face carefully expressionless as he gazed across the table at Ghayur, the self-proclaimed leader of all Harad. "Tell me," he said evenly, "why it is that I should believe your protestations of eternal friendship with Gondor. It was but ten years past that the tribes of Harad were united under the leadership of Sauron with the intent to destroy Gondor."

Ghayur sat back in his chair. "A just question, O King," he said smoothly. "Know that, though I sit here before your majesty today as the ruler of all Harad, it was not always thus. Ten years before this day, Maruf the Sea-Born ruled the land that today is my domain. The intentions of Maruf regarding Gondor were indeed not peaceful. But in the fullness of time, power has changed hands. Today, it is I who rule the Haradrim, and I wish to ally my land with the Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor."

"When you say that power has changed hands. . . " Faramir began.

"I mean that Maruf the Sea-Born met with a most unfortunate accident some months past," Ghayur said.

"An unfortunate accident," Faramir mused. "No doubt a most convenient accident for one as highly placed as yourself."

"Indeed."

"I will not ask you how convenient this accident was," Aragorn said, "nor whether or not certain arrangements might have been made that enhanced its convenience. Should such a discussion become necessary, I will be more than happy to examine the topic then. But now I must ask you, Ghayur, what assurances you can provide us now that your intentions of alliance are genuine and in good faith."

"I am afraid," Ghayur said, "that I can give you no better assurance than my word of honor. And the honor of the Haradrim is a serious thing indeed. I do not make this pledge lightly."

Aragorn shot a glance at Faramir, but the Prince of Ithilien was no more versed in the honor of the Haradrim than he. This was a decision that Aragorn would have to make on his own. He nodded to Ghayur. "Very well," he said. "I will trust that you do not mean ill for now. But I will be wary until I become more familiar with your people and your ways."

"I would expect no less of you," Ghayur said with a smile that showed an astonishing display of teeth.

"Good. Now then, let us begin to discuss our currently existing trade agreement."

Éowyn let Arwen cry for a few minutes, stroking her hair and rubbing her back lightly. Gradually, Arwen's weeping calmed into sniffles, and the Queen sat up, red-eyed and damp. Éowyn fished in a pocket of her undergown and found a handkerchief, which she handed to Arwen. "Here," she said. "Dry your tears. Shall we take a walk in the herb garden? It is a pleasant day, and I believe that the fresh air would do you good."

Arwen nodded. "Thank you," she said as she wiped at her eyes. The two ladies rose and, dropping Olwyn off with a maid in the nursery, went outside to the herb garden. Éowyn led Arwen to a small well and drew a bucket of water.

"You may wash your face here," she suggested. "I think the cool water will feel good to your swollen nose." Arwen managed a little laugh as she dipped the handkerchief in the bucket. "Now," Éowyn went on, "I think we should talk."

"Rarely is an Elf at a loss for words, but I confess that I do not know where to begin," Arwen said.

"Then perhaps I can begin for you. I think that you are less than ecstatic with happiness over your pregnancy. I think that, though you will not admit it even to yourself, you are anxious about becoming a mother and apprehensive about the labor of childbirth. I would even wager that you feel yourself all alone in this matter. Do I guess correctly?"

"You do," Arwen said. "Indeed, it is as though you could read my thoughts."

"It is not difficult," Éowyn admitted. "I felt much the same when I carried Elboron. They are not uncommon thoughts, particularly in a lady who has lost her mother and has little of the company of women."

"I have two fine midwives, and a devoted company of maidens," Arwen protested.

"Maidens!" Éowyn laughed. "Maidens are of no use to you in your present need. And as for your midwives . . . one is Mistress Ioreth, whom I remember to be a simple woman, full of love and wisdom, but likely to become overly deferential in the presence of a Queen."

"She is that."

"And your other midwife would be the Lady Doronrîn," Éowyn went on. "She spent a night here with her company when she set out for Minas Tirith. She struck me as competent, certainly, but overpowering."

Arwen's eyes darted to the left and to the right. "I will confess this to you," she said, "but you may not breathe a word of it to anyone, and most certainly not to my husband. When I am in the presence of the Lady Doronrîn, I feel as though I were a very small child still learning my lessons."

"Oh!" Éowyn laughed. "Exactly! That is precisely what I thought when I met her! But if she can reduce even the Queen of Elves and Men to such a state, then I feel myself redeemed." Her expression softened, and she took Arwen's hand. "It is no wonder that you feel yourself lost and alone. You and the King have taken every precaution to care for the child to be, but none for the mother. We have a few days together while the lords discuss matters of trade. You and I will spend them with my children, that you may accustom yourself to the presence of little ones, and we will thoroughly discuss matters of childbirth. And when the time of your confinement draws near, I will arrange to come to Minas Tirith and assist you, should you so wish."

Arwen smiled. "I do so wish," she said gratefully. "Already you comfort me, Éowyn of Ithilien. The burden is much eased now that I must not bear it alone."

"I had heard that you were wise," Éowyn said cheekily, "and now I know that it is true." She stepped back and regarded Arwen critically for a moment. "I am slightly taller than you," she said, "and perhaps a bit broader of shoulder, but not so much as to matter. Come, let us go to my chambers. I believe I still have some of the special gowns that I wore during the last weeks of my pregnancies. They are cut especially to accommodate what Elboron calls the 'bump.' I will lend you some of mine, for I do not anticipate needing them before you will. They are experienced gowns and have seen two babes born and survive their first year; perhaps their virtue will pass on to you."

"Many thanks," Arwen said. "You are a true friend, and I will not forget this kindness." With that, the two women strode off back to the manor house.