The winter came swiftly to the mountains that year, and the snow fell unusually deep on Minas Tirith. It delighted Arwen, who had spent most of her life in the sheltered, temperate lands of Imladris and Lothlórien, where snow fell rarely in winter. Nearly every day, she and her maidens would don cloaks, scarves and mittens and romp girlishly in one of the courtyards of the Citadel. The ladies took great delight in teaching their Queen how to catch snowflakes on her tongue and how to make perfect snowballs, solid enough to throw, yet light enough to shatter harmlessly on impact.

Occasionally, Aragorn would watch their play from a window as he worked, finding himself chuckling softly at the shrieks of laughter from the snowy yards. He was glad that Arwen's spirits were strong enough that she could enjoy the last months of play before she became a mother. An especially loud whoop drew his attention, and he peered out the window to see Arwen floundering in the snow as two snowballs found their mark on her shoulder.

"Ladies!" he called. "Do you know what the penalty in Gondor is for assaulting the Queen?"

The glowing pink faces looked up at him. Arwen laughed and pointed up at the window. "Snowballs!" she cried, and her maidens hurled their missiles upwards. Aragorn tried to shut the window against the barrage, but caught one well-thrown snowball in his hair. As he wiped his face on his sleeve, he heard the laughter of the maidens again. Such a deed could not go unpunished. Aragorn opened the window and scraped the snow on the sill together.

"Snowballs it is!" he shouted, and pushed the entire mass of snow onto the crowd below. Satisfied at the resulting shrieks of mock horror, he closed the window and returned to his desk.

Yule was fast approaching, and Éowyn and Faramir and their household would be arriving to celebrate in Minas Tirith. There would be several days of feasting and merrymaking, and Aragorn was preparing the orders for food and decorations to be brought to the Citadel. He would have the great throne room hung with garlands of evergreen and ribbons, and the kitchens would prepare rich cakes and roasts. Faramir had written that he would bring a surprise gift from Ithilien to contribute to the festivities. At the invitation of the Queen, he and Éowyn would remain in Minas Tirith until the baby was born.

Aragorn was glad of their extended visit. Éowyn would be a comfort and help to Arwen as the time of her confinement approached, and he was looking forward to the opportunity to spend time in the company of Faramir. For all that he enjoyed working with his Steward, Aragorn felt that he had far too little time to spend with his friend.

He was just signing the last of his orders when Arwen entered, still glowing from her play outdoors, wrapped in a warm shawl and bearing a tray with two mugs of steaming, fragrant tea. She was bright pink and her hair was still damp.

"We have come in from our romp," she said, "and we have taken tea to warm us. Would you enjoy a diversion as well?"

"No diversion," Aragorn replied happily. "I have finished the last of the Yule orders." He took one of the mugs from the tray and sipped at the hot tea. Arwen peered over his shoulder at the mass of documents.

"This will be a proper festival," she said. "It wants but one thing." She took quill and parchment and wrote out a final order in her firm, flowing script. When she had finished, she signed it and set it on top of the pile. Aragorn read it through quickly.

"A crate of oranges?" he asked. "Think you that we will need so many?"

"They are to be gifts for my maidens," Arwen explained. "I have sewn reticules of bright linen for them, and I will fill them with oranges to make gifts."

Aragorn nodded. "I will send this out with the next messenger to the South."

"Have you word from your garrison at the trading post?"

"At last report, an observer had successfully been inserted in the court of Lord Ghayur. The captains report that he has yet to remark upon this observer and that it is likely he is not aware of his presence."

"That is good news."

Aragorn smiled and took another sip of tea. "It is a start, at any rate," he said. "Perhaps it will turn out to be a good start. I think I should like to make peace with the Haradrim during my reign. I would not be remembered for war alone."

As Yule drew closer, the great wains full of provisions and decorations trundled up the long road to the Citadel. The lower rooms were fragrant with pine and berries as pages and chambermaids wove long evergreen garlands. The scent of sweet spices permeated the kitchens. Arwen's ladies prepared a great basket full of wool and linen swatches, and one day the court assembled for the festive swaddling of the apple trees. Musicians accompanied the King and Queen and certain of the higher-ranking officials to the royal orchards. There, they spent several hours singing and laughing and tying the swatches around the tips of the apple tree branches so that they would not freeze, but remain alive and healthy to bear more fruit in the coming autumn.

Aragorn found himself watching Arwen move through the trees and realized happily that when the next year's apples were ripe, he would be a father. Arwen reached toward the top of a tree, but found that her unbalanced frame would not allow her to stretch as far as she wished. Halandir laughed as he took the swatch from her fingers and swaddled the branch she had been trying to reach.

"Thank you," she said, with a wry smile. Halandir nodded to her.

"It is a pleasure to serve my Lady," he said. "Well do I remember assisting my wife at such times as she was heavy with child."

"You must share your wisdom with my husband," Arwen suggested. "For all that he has seen much of Middle Earth, he has not yet had the privilege of becoming a father. He would learn much from you, I think."

"It is the same and yet different every time, my Lady," Halandir said. "Each time, I learned something new about the world. And I have learned something new from my Lady as well."

"What have you learned?"

"My Lady," Halandir said, placing his hand over his heart. "I have read many books of lore, and I have seen great wonders in my years. But never before did I think to see a member of the Eldar race waddle." He winked roguishly at her, then bowed deeply. Arwen's gasp of scandalized laughter was drowned out by the cheers of the assembled court as two kitchen lads brought a great, steaming tub of hot spiced cider out into the orchard.

They drank a health to the apple trees, and then Lord Peredur declared that the Queen must spill some of the cider at the base of each tree for luck and for good bearing. Amid the good-natured laughter at Peredur's mild double entendre, Arwen did just that while the assembled company sang a song of health and good fortune to the trees.

The caravan from Ithilien arrived late the evening before Yule. Éowyn and Faramir were fed a late supper as chambermaids bore sleeping Elboron and Olwyn off to the beds that had been prepared for them. Before retiring themselves for the evening, Éowyn and Faramir insisted on showing their gift to the King and Queen. It turned out to be several crates of candles of all sizes, tantalizingly scented with honeysuckle and jasmine. Arwen inhaled their fragrance blissfully. Aragorn clapped Faramir on the shoulder.

"These will have pride of place in the ceremony tomorrow evening," he said. "Now let us be off to our beds before tomorrow dawns!"

The morning of Yule dawned crisp and clear. The cooks started their day before dawn, roasting deer, oxen and various poultry, boiling, mashing and dressing vegetables, and baking loaves of fragrant bread. Elboron and Olwyn were given oranges and sent to play in the snow with the other children who lived in the Citadel.

That evening, the entire court assembled in their finest clothes for the great Yule feast. The tables in the largest banquet hall were richly decorated with holly, and a jasmine-scented candle from Ithilien lay at every place. A great oak log rested in the unlit hearth. The King and Queen presided at the head table, resplendent in robes of crimson ornamented with gold embroidery. The crown of Gondor had been freshly polished and gleamed in the candlelight. In the Queen's hair sparkled the net of jewels that she had worn at her wedding. At the King's signal, all rose to their feet, and the Yule ceremony began.

Pages quietly snuffed the tapers and torches lining the walls. In the darkness, a drum began to play a steady rhythm, and flutes wove an ancient melody around it. "We come together on this night, the longest night of the year," the King said. "A great darkness envelops the earth, and we might almost believe that the dawn will never come. Yet I say to you that this is not the death of the world; it is but sleep, and we keep faith that the sun will rise, and a new day will dawn, bringing life and hope to this land."

A pair of pages bore a brazier full of quietly burning coals from the previous year's Yule log into the hall, its glow the only illumination in that vast, suddenly cavernous space. "As the old Yule log dies, so shall the new log be kindled, that the cycle of light and dark may continue without interruption," the Queen said. The pages set the brazier down before the great hearth and scooped the coals onto the kindling there. The kindling caught fire with a great blaze, and before long, the new Yule log had begun to burn.

The King took up the candle from his place and lit it from the Yule log. He carried it back to the table, and all took up the candles that had been laid at their places. The King passed the flame to the Queen, and she passed it to the Prince of Ithilien. The court sang songs of hope and joy as the candles were lit one by one. As they passed the flame, the pages lit new tapers and torches on the walls. Slowly, light returned to the great hall. When the last candle had been lit, the King raised his cup high. "Wes hael! A health to the return of the sun!" he cried.

"Wes hael!" the court replied, and they drank.

The Yule feast lasted long into the night. In between courses, musicians played, minstrels sang, and the court danced and made merry. Through it all, the King sat back and looked over the festivities in deep contentment. The Queen, unwilling to steer her bulk through a dance, lifted her sweet voice in song along with the minstrels. A tug at the King's robe commanded his attention, and he looked down to see the small daughter of the Prince and Princess of Ithilien examining the fine embroidery with sticky fingers. Smiling indulgently, the King leaned down and scooped up the child, settling her on his lap. Soon, she dropped off to sleep, worn out by the celebration and feasting. The King gestured to the Prince and Princess that he would guard their daughter and smiled as they moved off to join in the dancing.

A month after Yule, the festival was but a happy memory. The air was quiet and cold. Aragorn and Faramir sat in the royal drawing room earnestly engaged in planning for the spring. Faramir had cleared new farmland in Ithilien, and he and Aragorn were deep in a discussion of the best way to make use of the land. They were debating the merits of tenant farmers as opposed to small freeholds when Arwen appeared at the door bearing a tray of spice cakes.

"It is the middle of the afternoon, my lords," she said sweetly. "Will you not take some refreshment? I have baked cakes this day." Aragorn cleared a space amid the maps and papers, and Arwen set the tray down. As Aragorn and Faramir began to eat, Arwen absently tidied the maps and set the papers in neat piles.

"There is no need for that, beloved," Aragorn said. "We are not finished with the land plans, and we will spread the papers out again when you leave us."

"Forgive me," Arwen laughed. "I had not noticed what I did. It seems I am always tidying and baking of late." With that, she kissed the top of Aragorn's head and moved slowly from the room. Aragorn had to admit that she did waddle a little. Faramir raised his eyebrows at him.

"I do not think it will be long now before you are a father," he said. Aragorn looked at him quizzically. Faramir smiled. "Éowyn did just that in the weeks before our children were born," he explained. "The Lady Arwen is readying her nest for the child."

Several nights later, Aragorn awoke in the middle of the night to find that Arwen was twisting around in the bed. He rolled over and put his hand on her shoulder. "Beloved," he said, "you are kicking me."

"I am restless tonight," Arwen said. "The child writhes within me."

"Then we must soothe him," Aragorn said. He nestled Arwen against his chest and began to massage her belly gently. Gradually she became still.

"I am afraid," she said after a while. "The child will come soon. Ioreth and Doronrîn are fearful of the delivery. Ioreth worries that I have carried the child too long, and Doronrîn fears that he is too large for me to deliver easily. I think they do not wish to speak to me overmuch of the dangers, but I know that they are uncertain that I will survive the birth."

Aragorn tightened his embrace about her. "I will not lose you without a fight," he said.

"There will be nothing you can do once my labor begins. Only promise me that you will come should I have need of you."

Aragorn stroked her dark hair. "I promise," he said softly into her ear.

In the morning, Aragorn awoke early to find Arwen already awake, huddled into the window seat, her arms wrapped around herself. "I feel strange this morning," she said. "When I awoke, I felt as though my body had tightened around itself. It stayed so for a minute, and then the sensation faded." She frowned slightly. "It tightens again."

Aragorn set a hand on her abdomen and felt the muscles tightening. He looked a question at Arwen.

"I think that the child will come today," she said.

"The Lady Doronrîn will be awake," Aragorn said. "I shall fetch her here." Arwen nodded.

"I would like that."

Doronrîn strode purposefully into the royal suite several minutes later. She spoke softly to Arwen for a few minutes and examined her body briefly. "Yes," she said. "It has begun. The stirrings you felt in the night were the first signs. If all goes well, the child will arrive today."

Aragorn started. For months, he had waited for this moment, and on this otherwise ordinary day, it had arrived. Nothing would be the same after this day. Doronrîn opened the door and sent the guard to summon chambermaids to bring several changes of bed linen.

"We will prepare the bed now," she said, "but we will not need it for some hours yet. I will inform the Lady Ioreth." She turned to Arwen. "Go you now and take up what business or pleasure is most pressing, but do not stray far from the Citadel. Summon us when the contractions are strong and you count twelve in an hour. Is there anyone else you wish to have at your side when you give birth?"

"I would have the Lady Éowyn with me," Arwen answered. Doronrîn nodded.

"I will see that she is informed. Go now and take your leisure, for the time will soon come for hard work."

The day happened to be one appointed for the King to hold court and hear petitions and disputes, but upon hearing of the onset of Arwen's labor, Faramir advised him to limit his work that day. "Hold your court today, but only until the noon hour," he said. "No more public work should you perform today."

"I do not see why," Aragorn protested. "I am not the one giving birth, and I have already been informed by the midwives that I am not to be underfoot lest I hinder the process with my presence."

Faramir laughed knowingly. "That is what all midwives say," he explained. "And for themselves they may be right. But as a father twice over, I say to you that once your lady's labor begins in earnest, you will no longer be able to work. We will share the hours of waiting together, passing them in what idle ways we can best devise."

Lord Peredur looked up from the list of scheduled cases he was examining. "If I may, my Lord," he said, "The Steward has the right in this matter. I will trim this list and proclaim that my Lord will hold only half a day of court."

"The people will be disappointed," Aragorn said. Peredur and Faramir looked at each other, and Aragorn could have sworn he saw a smirk pass between them.

"The people will understand entirely," Peredur assured him. "Most of them have children of their own, after all. They know all about the long wait for birth."

Aragorn was an experienced leader of men, and as a hardened warrior, he knew defeat when he saw it. "Do my lords smirk at their King?" he asked.

"We do," Faramir answered cheekily. "We know our King to be a man of courage and daring who has had many adventures and trodden many strange roads in his life. Lord Peredur and I take great pleasure in witnessing such a man take the first steps of the most common and yet greatest adventure of all."

Aragorn laughed. "You encourage me, my friends," he said. "Come, let us to work, if there be only half a day for it. I will send messengers to Rohan and Aglarond and to the Elves of Ithilien, and then I shall dispense such justice as I may."

The first hour after noon found Arwen in the Archives, the sheets containing her manuscript on childbearing scattered on a table before her. At the moment, however, she was not writing. Instead, she was reading once again the letters of advice sent to her by the women of Gondor many months before. Her pains had increased, both in strength and in frequency, as had her apprehension. She had discovered midway through the morning that the contractions were more bearable if she did not sit still when they struck, and she had been in and out of her seat often in the past hour.

Arwen remembered that she was to summon Doronrîn when twelve contractions came in one hour. She had marked a slate with each contraction, and there were currently eleven marks on it. Nervously, she picked up a letter and read once again the thoughts of a woman upon nursing her child for the first time. She tried to reassure herself once again that she, too, would survive childbirth and would soon nurse a child of her own. In the middle of her promise to herself, she felt her abdomen begin to tighten once again. She picked up the chalk to mark the slate and promptly dropped it again as the contraction grew stronger than any she had yet experienced. Arwen tried to heave herself out of her chair, but the pain radiated down her legs, and she stumbled, scrabbling at the table for support and letting loose a gasp that was almost a shriek.

Immediately, the door to the Archives opened, and Halandir was at her side. "How goes it with my Lady?" he asked.

"My pains are coming faster, Halandir," Arwen said shakily. "The child is coming in earnest now. I must summon the midwives."

"Come with me, my Lady," Halandir said, slipping a supportive arm around her. "I will escort my Lady to her quarters and alert the household."

"But my papers . . . they are loose all over the table."

"It is no matter," Halandir assured her. "I will see that they are tidied away and kept in readiness. Come now. I will support my Lady, and we will walk together."

Arwen leaned on Halandir, and he guided her out of the Archives with strong, experienced hands. "I thank you, Halandir," she said. "You are most kind to care for me so."

"Surely my Lady is aware of my devotion to her," Halandir said. "Always I am ready to give aid when it is needed."

Halandir guided Arwen through the corridors to the royal apartments. On the way, he sent several pages scurrying to alert the King and the midwives that Arwen's time had come at last.