These Characters are the property of the Estate of J. R. R Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story has been written for pleasure and no profit has been or will be made from it.

‘Upon the King! Let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives,
Our children, and our sins lay on the King!
And what have kings that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
What is thy soul of adoration?
Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?’

Shakespeare - King Henry V (IV, i) (abridged)

Aragorn wearily made his way to his own apartments where he had left Faramir. As soon as he entered, the Steward struggled to his feet and bowed.

“Please sit down, Faramir” the King sighed, settling himself beside his Steward as he spoke, “Does this room trouble you? We can go somewhere else if you wish.” Since he had tended Faramir through those terrible days and nights, when his life hung in the balance, he had replaced the bedspread and wall hangings, but it was still the same room where he had suffered so much, hovering between life and death.

“No, sire, not at all. I remember only how kind you were to me!” Faramir replied.

Aragorn frowned, unhappy at the sudden formability. “I need to look at your ribs to see that you sustained no damage during the journey,” he said. “Then we will eat and get some rest. Arwen wants to keep Éowyn with her for a while.”

He was going to miss his wife, but knew her plan was sensible. Custom forbade Faramir sharing his wife’s bedchamber so soon after her giving birth and Faramir was still too frail to be left unattended. Truth to tell, he would be glad of his Steward’s company. While he was content to sleep alone under a hedge, he still found it hard to settle surrounded by stone walls as they felt as if they were closing in on him.

“Is it fitting, my lord that you, who have power beyond all mortal imaginings, should busy yourself with such menial tasks as caring for me?” Faramir asked, his eyes still filled with the veneration the King had noticed earlier. “Should not one of the City Healers tend me?” The revulsion he felt at the prospect of being poked, pummelled, prodded and scrutinised by unfamiliar hands and eyes at was all too clear in his eyes as he spoke.

Aragorn sat beside him on the window seat and gripped his hands. “What happened today has not changed me, mellon nîn,” he chided gently. “I am just a Man like any other; though it gladdens my heart that the Valar chose to use me as their instrument to spare your child. I desire your friendship, not your veneration. Any subject might offer me that, whereas friendship for one in my position, is much harder to find and a treasure indeed! Then, as it seems we are to share this room for a while, if you continue to place me on a pedestal, my head will grow too large to fit my crown and then what shall I do?”

Faramir was forced to smile at the image Aragorn’s words evoked and relaxed somewhat.

“You can read my thoughts again if you wish,” Aragorn offered, knowing his Steward could be very stubborn at times.

“I believe you!” Faramir was already unlacing his tunic and shirt, “It was just so wondrous what you did today!”

“I fear it has left me too weary to offer you any healing tonight,” Aragorn said regretfully once Faramir had pulled the garments over his head.

“I am not in much pain,” Faramir replied as the King unwrapped the tight bandaging. The Steward sighed with relief as it was loosened. “How is Éowyn?” he enquired.

“She is asleep now and should not wake until morning. Both Arwen and Ioreth are satisfied that she is recovering well from the birth. She is just very distressed at not being unable to suckle the baby as yet.”

“She should not be so upset,” Faramir commented while Aragorn felt his injured ribs. He noticed that although his touch was extremely gentle, his hands were not as warm as they usually were. “The high born ladies of Gondor always employ wet nurses from what I know of such matters. We have a beautiful child which is all that matters, surely?”

“But that is not the custom of either the Eldar or the Rohirrim,” Aragorn informed him, “The women of Rohan are extremely self sufficient and see any failing on their part as a grave weakness. I lived amongst Éowyn’s people for many years and became familiar with their culture.”

“I am proud of my wife for giving me such a beautiful daughter and so long as she is properly nourished, do not mind who nurses her, though naturally, I am extremely grateful to the Queen,” Faramir said ardently.“ I especially wanted a girl, though I think Éowyn desired a son. I am determined to give her all the love that my father never gave me! When can I hold her?”

“Tomorrow, I hope when she is sleeping and will not kick you. Your ribs are healing well and your heartbeat is steady,” Aragorn pronounced, before proceeding to gently feel the still swollen patch on the upper part of his Steward’s belly.

Faramir immediately yelped with pain and Aragorn frowned at the reaction.

“What exactly is that?” the Steward asked anxiously, his face white with pain.

“A knot of scar tissue, I believe, and it is pressing on a nerve. Unfortunately it does not respond well to healing,” Aragorn told him honestly. “There are other treatments I can try, so try not to worry about it.”

He fervently hoped he would not have to cut it out, as a drastic last resort. He knew only too well that left too long; it could adhere to some vital organ and threaten Faramir’s life.

“I trust you to do what is best,” Faramir said simply.

”I have told Éomer he has a niece but I fear he does not seem interested,” the King said, eager to change the subject.

Faramir sighed. ”I feared as much, though I hoped for Éowyn’s sake he would be pleased. Maybe, it troubles him that a child of my blood is direct line to succeed him until my cousin gives him children?”

“He will surely soften soon,” Aragorn said thoughtfully, applying salve to Faramir’s many bruises while he spoke. The pitiably scarred and bruised body was still a shocking sight, even to an experienced healer such as himself. “If he saw just what had happened to you?” he mused.

Faramir vehemently shook his head. “I want no man’s pity and have no desire to be paraded for his inspection!” he said firmly.

“I am sorry, I should not have said that nor should I have shown your wounds to his followers,” Aragorn said contritely.

“With that you had little choice, but the thought of him inspecting me like a broken down horse repels me,” Faramir replied, yawning, and pulling his shirt back over his head.

“I would feel just the same,” Aragorn assured him. He stood up and washed his hands in a bowl of water left on the washstand for that purpose. ”I will order some supper for us then go and bid goodnight to Arwen while they are bringing it,” he said. “You can borrow one of my nightshirts and prepare for bed while I am gone, if you desire some privacy. And please no bowing when I return!”

Faramir merely grinned at him. “Say goodnight to my wife and little one for me please if you see her?” he asked.

Aragorn gladly agreed before summoning a servant and telling her that he required a light supper for two sent up to his room. He then made his way to his wife’s apartments.

Arwen almost immediately opened the door when he tapped lightly. Éowyn lay sleeping peacefully in the vast bed. Arwen led her husband into the adjoining room.

They tiptoed to where the babies were lying in their cradles. Aragorn stroked a tender finger across his son’s cheek and was rewarded by a smile.

“Look!” he gasped in wonder. “He smiled at me for the first time!”

Arwen smiled too. “He must sense that you will now be able to smile back at him!”

Overcome with emotion, Aragorn tenderly kissed his son and then laid his hand in blessing on Elestelle’s head, before giving her a goodnight kiss on behalf of her father.

“Faramir told me her name,” he smiled, “I am honoured! I suppose I had better return to him now, I left him waiting for his supper.”

“You look weary, I hope Faramir will not keep you awake. It is best you stay with him, while I look after Éowyn. They both will need our care for a while yet.” Arwen drew her husband close and he laid his weary head on her shoulder after they had exchanged a tender kiss.

**

An hour later, Arwen looked into her husband’s room and found both him and Faramir side by side on top of the vast bed. Both were fast asleep and Aragorn was snoring loudly.

Faramir, with his head nestled against his King’s shoulder, looked the slightly more comfortable of the two of them. He was at least properly on the bed and minus his boots.

Despite the size of the bed Aragorn had one leg dangling over the edge and looked likely to fall off any moment. He was still wearing his boots, obviously having fallen asleep as soon as he had settled Faramir before he could take them off.

Two nightshirts lay folded on the foot of the bed, their owners obviously too weary to change into them.

At least the tray of empty dishes on the bedside table, suggested that they had eaten their supper before falling asleep.

Arwen smiled indulgently, suppressing an urge to giggle at the spectacle. She eased her husband’s leg on to the bed before carefully removing his boots, leaving them by the bedside before tucking the blankets round them both. Although both were fully clothed, it was a cold November night and she did not want them to become chilled.

Aragorn continued snoring peacefully, oblivious of her presence.

“Sleep well, beloved!” she whispered, kissing him gently before tiptoeing from the room.

Faramir, somewhat less exhausted than the King, woke at the sound of the door closing. Thinking it was Aragorn’s snoring that had roused him; he dug his elbow in his King’s ribs to wake him.

“What?” Aragorn murmured sleepily.

“You were snoring!” Faramir grumbled.

“I told you I was only human!” Aragorn retorted then promptly fell asleep again.

TBC