Chapter 8

The Concealment of Many Things

April 13

Ithilien, Gondor

The sun shown brightly as she moved through the garden. Had it ever been so bright before? No, she thought not. No other day could possibly match this — the warmth, the rising breeze, scents of roses. Eowyn felt like a child, which was odd considering the news she had to tell.

The lady fairly flew through her garden, her feet leaving nearly invisible prints on the damp ground and her white skirts swirling gaily around her ankles. She was full to bursting with her news, and now that she was certain that it was time to share it the path back to the house seemed doubly long. Her pace quickened and soon she reached the door to her husband's study.

Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, was sitting in the midst of some thousand documents and sorting through each with an ever deepening frown. He had been at work for hours and a headache seemed immanent. Eowyn did not usually interrupt his work if she could help it, but he always welcomed her presence when she did.

It appeared he had been working altogether too long because the moment he looked up at her the frown disappeared entirely and he leapt up at once. Eowyn did not have time to react before she was suddenly swept right off her feet and spun in a complete circle. Faramir set her back down and kissed first her lips then her forehead and finally moved back a pace to look at her.

"Good morning, my lady. Thank you for coming; I need the excuse. You look lovely."

Eowyn was smiling brilliantly and her eyes sparkled. He must have seen the secretive look in them because he was immediately intrigued.

"What is it?" he asked, watching her smile broaden.

She liked this very much, standing here in his arms while unbeknownst to her dear husband their very first and long wished for child lay between them. She was so happy and so breathless with joy that she couldn't find the words, but she didn't want to simply blurt it out so she just looked up at Faramir as though he could surely guess her secret.

Faramir clearly saw that there was something she wanted to tell him, but he seemed to have no idea just how wonderful it was; tilting his head to the side, his eyes sparkling with mischief, he tried to read her thoughts.

"Ah!" he said suddenly. "Your roses are in bloom."

Eowyn laughed merrily and shook her head. "Though they are, my lord, it is not for them that I am in such elation."

"Well you cannot be this happy to see me." Faramir teased, pulling her close. "And I swear to hold you prisoner until I know your secret."

The smile on Eowyn's lips grew full and she opened her mouth, resolved to say the first words that came to her mind—

"My lord?"

The man who had spoken upon entering stared fixedly at the opposite wall, apparently embarrassed at intruding on the lord and lady's privacy. Faramir, who recognized the man at once, released Eowyn with a half grin and turned his attention to the messenger.

"What news from Minas Tirith, Siniath?" he asked, and his face grew more grave. The official messenger did not often come to their door, for Aragorn never called on Faramir unless he was in the great need.

Siniath moved forward after bowing his head to first Faramir then Eowyn.

"My lord, King Elessar sends an urgent request for the Lady Eowyn to come care for his young children for a time."

"What has happened?" Eowyn asked, moving up next to Faramir and grasping his arm.

"My lady, I fear that Lady Arwen has been struck by a deadly illness and she is unable to leave her chambers. King Elessar trusts you alone in the care of his children, if you will accept."

"I am to accompany her," Faramir said, not quite a question.

Siniath nodded in easy assent. "The king said that you would request it and he given full permission for you to leave the ruling of Ithilien to your regent so that you may escort the Lady Eowyn to Minas Tirith."

Then all eyes turned to Eowyn and she looked first at Siniath, then long at Faramir. She could see many things playing through his stormy gray eyes; something bothered him. But he smiled slightly in encouragement.

"Of course I shall come, and with all haste," she acquiesced calmly.

Siniath nodded and left them so as to return with the news to Minas Tirith. As soon as he was gone Faramir turned to Eowyn. She was saddened to see that his face was growing troubled. He tried to cover it with a jest. "I should have known when Legolas decided to go visit Aragorn that trouble would follow. I had not thought it would occur so quickly, though. This is unsettling."

"It will not be so dangerous as you think, Faramir," she assured him, gently touching his face.

"It may." Faramir shook his head. "I cannot explain it, but I do not feel at ease about this…but indeed you must go and I will stay as long as you have need of me."

"Of course," she whispered.

Faramir kissed her again and then moved away. If he was to accompany her, he had many things to set in order before absenting himself.

It was then, as she lay a hand across her stomach, that Eowyn realized that her moment had passed. Now was simply not the time to tell her worrying husband the secret she carried.

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April 15

Minas Tirith, Gondor

Legolas did not see his friend much over the four days that followed Aragorn's decision to go with him. The human seemed to be possessed of feverish energy. Legolas had grown so accustomed to believing that he would never be more than a prince in his own land, he had forgotten how many tasks Aragorn must now delegate to others without giving away his intentions. Of course, much of the basic functions of the Gondorian government were capable of running themselves — a fact which allowed her king to travel to meetings with Imrahil in Dol Amroth and Eomer in Rohan — but it seemed there were a thousand and one items of a more delicate nature that Aragorn was striving to leave in good hands.

When he wasn't absorbed in business, Aragorn was with his children, and more often: sitting at Arwen's bedside. Though he could not be sure, Legolas felt that there was a permanent current of strength which ran between the husband and wife. Aragorn had relied heavily upon it to keep Arwen alive on the night of the attack until the medicine could be brought. Perhaps it was their love; perhaps it was merely another facet of Aragorn's gift of healing.

Still, in spite of all the sense of purpose that now filled Aragorn's eyes, Legolas was anxious for his friend. He was sleeping very little now, and if he ate, Legolas was not able to catch him at it. There was a fixity to the human's mood that had less to do with having dealt with his own internal battles and more to do with the constant distractions that kept him separated from himself.

For his part, Legolas contented himself with watching from a distance and lending a hand where he could. He took the children for a walk around the high courtyard one afternoon — practicing bow shooting with Eldarion, admiring Elenwen's crooked embroidery, pulling a sodden Gilraen from the fountain around the White Tree — and he helped Pippin and some of the healers in a search for more Lhandlas. The hobbit was quite bothered for he declared that he had somehow misplaced his Lorien brooch, but Legolas had only pointed out, teasingly, that Pippin had a habit of leaving his brooch in odd places and Pippin had sniffed and given up the subject.

On the side, he also surreptitiously gathered provisions and searched about in Aragorn's possessions for the sword that Thranduil had given him long ago. It was unlikely the human would wish to bring something so recognizable as Narsil with him on this journey.

Legolas was carrying the sword, freshly sharpened, back from the armory when he turned a corner to find Aragorn standing silent by a window. The elf opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. His friend was holding a slumbering Gilraen in his arms. It was an unusual position to find the child in, even in the twilight hours. Her small face — a delicate, feminine copy of what her father must have been as a child — was serene and peaceful, her pink lips parted so that her breath whispered softly in and out, moving the strands of hair that always wisped about her face.

Aragorn was rocking a little, side to side, and murmuring a soft song in elvish that seemed to suit the fading light outside. The white stone of the palace around them glowed faintly in the dimness. Slowly Legolas moved forward until he was behind them, watching the sun set beyond the mountains.

From down below, there came a clattering of hooves on stone and Aragorn's song faded. Legolas' keen eyes could clearly see the faces of the riders as they dismounted in the courtyard. Eowyn, her golden hair loose about her; Faramir, holding her horse, but allowing her to dismount on her own; Beregond, the captain of Faramir's personal guard.

"Would you like me to go and greet them, my friend?" Legolas asked, his voice nearly inaudible.

Aragorn did not seem surprised to see him standing there. "That would be welcome. I must put Gilraen in her bed."

Legolas nodded and laid the sword on a nearby table, going light-footedly down the stairs to the main doors. He came outside to find Eowyn and Faramir already almost up the steps. Their expressions changed from anxiety to a touch of relief at the sight of him.

"Legolas," Eowyn breathed. "May I gather that if you have seen fit to leave Lord Aragorn's side then all hope is not yet lost?"

"The message we received was rather brief," Faramir agreed. "Please, friend, can you not tell us what has happened?"

"A great many things, and few of them good. Still, I had best leave that to Aragorn himself to explain. Please, enter." He stood aside and bowed a little as they passed him, relinquishing his hold on the doors to Beregond and Duurben — the latter having been standing personally on watch.

Legolas had only just guided them into a receiving room when the king himself appeared in the doorway. His long, burgundy robes were, Legolas realized, very elvish in appearance. For the first time it occurred to the elf to wonder what the Gondorians made of their ruler's preferences in this matter, or if they even knew what he wore in private.

"Lord Faramir, Lady Eowyn," Aragorn greeted them both, and they bowed in response. "I thank you for coming with such speed. I am afraid I cannot linger here with you long. Lady Eowyn, I greatly covet your help for the coming months. My wife is not merely ill, as I said in my message, but has been the victim of an attempted assassination."

Faramir's gray eyes sharpened and Eowyn gasped.

"Will the queen be well?" Faramir asked.

"Yes," Aragorn said firmly. "The snake which was placed in our room was poisonous and she is very weak, but there is a cure which will be procured shortly. In the meanwhile her handmaid, Arien, who usually watches over the children for us, is much occupied with caring for her. There are other maids we could call upon, and I beg you forgive me for summoning you so far for that reason, but at the same time the culprit behind the attack has not yet been found." He looked her in the eye. "Until Captain Duurben has succeeded in finding the man or woman responsible, I am anxious for the safety of my young ones. The attack was aimed at them as well. You are a valiant woman, Lady Eowyn, and I deem your skill in arms has not lessened in spite of your absence from war."

She nodded slowly. "It has not. Faramir and I still work at swordplay when we are alone. I would be most honored, my lord, to take charge of your children. I only hope I may fulfill your trust."

"Thank you. They are good children, though I say it myself, and I believe they will cause you little trouble. Excepting perhaps Eldarion… and maybe Gilraen. Elenwen will cause you little trouble," he amended. It was his first touch of humor.

He turned now to Faramir and seemed to be watching the other particularly close. In his eyes Legolas could read his thoughts. It was on this man's shoulders that any crisis would fall, should Aragorn become delayed in his journey.

However, though the Prince of Ithilien could not have known the reason for the scrutiny, he met his king's gaze squarely. The valor and wisdom that had grown, unnoticed by his own father, was even greater now than it had been when Legolas had first met him after the battle of Pelenor. Had a king not appeared for Faramir to serve, he would have been a worthy steward.

Aragorn seemed reassured. "Lord Faramir, I would imagine you do not intend to return to Ithilien immediately."

"Unless my king so orders me," Faramir nodded, though there was something in the glance he briefly cast his wife that made Legolas wonder.

"I do not. It will ease my mind to have you here. I will be much engaged over the coming weeks and I would ask you to aid me in what matters might normally demand my full attention. I have striven to set what I could in order, but one cannot plan for all."

"I understand, sire, and I willingly offer what services I may lend."

"My thanks," Aragorn said, and for a moment reached to clasp Faramir's shoulder. It represented a falling away of formality — a show of gratitude between friends — and it prompted a few minutes of conversation. Mostly this took the form of concern for Arwen's current state and a little talk relating to the children. Finally Aragorn summoned Pippin to escort them to the guest quarters and they wished him a fair night.

There was a silence after the room had emptied of all but Legolas and Aragorn.

"Well, mellon nin," Aragorn murmured.

"Well?"

"We leave tonight."

Legolas' eyebrows arched in surprise. "So soon?"

"Time, Legolas. We have already spent four days in waiting. All is as firmly prepared as I can arrange. What few instructions remain for Faramir and my advisors I have written out as well as might be contrived. There is rain on the air — I can smell it. If we leave under cover of darkness, the elements should conceal our trail long enough to prevent Duurben from sending any cumbersome aid after us. I have left him a letter as well; I hope he will not see this as a second failure. I need him in the palace, glaring at anyone who shows signs of duplicity."

"It is well planned, Aragorn. You seem to have done a good deal of writing." He smiled a little.

"Yes… It has suddenly come to my attention how very fortunate I am to be surrounded by so many in whom I trust. I can only pray Ilúvatar I am doing the right thing in leaving them all in this fashion." Aragorn's eyes were distant, a hint in them of the old uncertainty Legolas recalled so vividly from the days when he was unsure of his path as king. Now he was king, and again unsure. But the feeling did not seem to last long, or else it had never taken a firm hold. Aragorn turned to face his friend fully. "It seems the wilds of Middle Earth are calling to us again, my friend. Let us hope that our chances of returning to Minas Tirith uninjured are better than they were in Rivendell."

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Legolas had left on silent feet to prepare the horses and Aragorn had ascended the stairs again, through halls now dark blue with night, to the room the two girls shared. Inside only Gilraen was asleep. Elenwen and Eldarion were sitting together on a low couch off to one side, talking quietly. They looked up when he came in.

"Hello, Ada," Eldarion said softly.

"Hello, my son," Aragorn returned, summoning a smile for their sakes. He sat beside them and Elenwen immediately slipped into his lap, her arm curling up around his neck as she leaned against his chest.

"Uncle Legolas took us out yesterday," Eldarion volunteered. "The trees Naneth planted in the city are beginning to turn green, even though it's still cold at night. You don't think anything will happen to them, do you?"

"No, Eldarion. Naneth's trees are a hearty breed, and she planted some of herself with them. They would survive even a blizzard." Aragorn smiled down into Elenwen's face as she leaned back to look into his. She looked so much like her mother, he thought lovingly.

"Ada," she whispered, "will Naneth be well soon?" It was a desperate question — filled with uncertainties that Aragorn had hoped his children would never need to face.

"Yes."

"Promise?"

He saw that Eldarion was watching him closely, ready to believe implicitly anything he might say. "I promise."

"Good."

Aragorn remained a while longer, saying nothing, only holding his daughter close and allowing his son to lean against his shoulder. At last he said, "I have to go away for a little while. There is medicine I must get for Naneth. Eldarion, can I trust you to look after your sisters for me?"

Eldarion nodded solemnly, his dark hair brushing his shoulders. "Yes, Ada."

"Lady Eowyn is here to watch over you so that Arien can stay with your mother. Uncle Legolas is coming with me. We will be back as soon we can, don't worry." He kissed Elenwen on the forehead. "I love you both with all my heart."

"I love you too, Ada," Elenwen whispered.

Eldarion gave his father a tight embrace and silently slipped out and down the hall to his own room. Aragorn pulled aside the blankets next to Gilraen and slid Elenwen under them, tucking them close about her. "Sleep, daughter," he said, and her blue eyes obediently closed. Gently he caressed the side of her face. Then he turned, checked the seashell nightlight to make sure it had plenty of wick still to burn, and closed the door quietly behind him.

His pause was longer before his and Arwen's room. At last he pressed the door open and walked inside, his eyes adjusting to the orange light of the candles still lit on the bedside table. Arien looked up from her vigil over her lady and bowed her head respectfully, her brown eyes black in the dark.

"I'll stay with her," Aragorn whispered.

"Yes, my liege," the lady-in-waiting whispered back and left the room.

Ignoring the chair close at hand, Aragorn chose instead to sit on the edge of the bed and watch his wife's fitful slumber. Her skin was pale as wax and her hands clammy. Around the wound on her arm there were still leaking out faint traces of gray — the poison held at bay, but not actively pressed back. Aragorn gently cupped her head between his hands, leaning down to kiss her damp forehead, his fingers caressing, while not quite touching, the delicate points and curves of her ears.

Rising, he slipped across the room and opened a carved chest sitting in the corner. Removing his robes, he laid them aside and took from the chest an ordinary tunic and leggings, his old leather vest and bracers, the worn boots and belt that had once served him so well. His quiver and bow were there, the knife Celeborn had given him, and his Lorien cloak and brooch which he rolled up to bring along. The familiar feel and smell of the things was reassuring.

He finished dressing, fastened his belt, and removed the binding from his hair, letting it fall loose about his face. Last of all he lifted his overcoat, the leather worn soft and supple with years of wear, the surface marred by the familiar places where he had repaired it. He held it at arm's length for a moment before sliding into it, and was somehow surprised to find that it still fit in exactly the same way.

"My Dúnadan," came a soft whisper.

Aragorn was back at Arwen's side instantly. "I am here."

Her eyes were glassy as she looked at him, her voice breathy and weak. "Not for… long. You are off somewhere. Where?"

"To find a cure for you. Legolas knows of one; but only I can help him to get it. Believe me, meleth nin, if there were any other way—"

"Shh," she hushed him. "You are not abandoning me."

"I feel as though I am."

"You are wrong."

He could not help but smile at her teasing tone. Her eyelids were beginning to tremble, a sign she was not yet strong enough for more speech, and Aragorn leaned forward and kissed her gently. Her lips were still like velvet against his, her love still clear in their curve. "I shall be back, Arwen. I promise."

"And I shall be here when you return. I promise." The last word faded as she fell softly back to sleep.

"May the Valar protect you while I cannot," Aragorn whispered. Rising, he slipped from the room. As he walked down the hall, he reached up and touched the Evenstar. Then he slipped it inside his tunic so that it rested, cool, against his heart.

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Tantur's ears were young and sharp. Perhaps not sharp enough to catch the utter silence of a Dúnadan's tread, but sharp enough to catch the faint creak that the side door made as it was pulled gently closed. The king was leaving! And without telling anyone… Probably he did not intend to go alone — Tantur was willing to guess that Prince Legolas would be meeting up with him somewhere — but he certainly wasn't taking any of the city guards. For a few minutes the young man debated his course of action, considering the legends of Elessar's skills as a woodsman that his Uncle Duurben had passed down with such admiration. Tantur wasn't even half that skilled, he knew, but if he left immediately, without even returning to his room, he stood a fair chance of keeping the king in following distance. If anything happened, he ought to be able to see it and catch up quickly.

For a moment he thought he heard a noise, as of someone else walking nearby, but it faded and he let out a soft sigh; it was just his imagination. Pulling his dark cloak close to cover the reflective white of the tree emblazoned on his chest, Tantur waited another few seconds and then quietly slipped out the door.

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Legolas looked up as his friend came silently down the alleyway toward him and he stared for a moment, the sight taking him unawares. It was Aragorn, but Aragorn as the elf had not seen him in a long time. Even when he dressed informally he seldom donned the old clothing he had worn as a ranger. Now he stood in readiness, his hair brushing his cheeks. The familiar old coat hid all traces of Elessar, King of Gondor, from the unobservant world.

"Legolas, did you take my sword?" Aragorn asked calmly.

"I had it sharpened," the elf nodded, handing him the sword and passing his friend the pack he had loaded for him. "Here, I have packed our provisions." He did not ask if Aragorn had already bidden his family farewell; he knew the answer. "Are we ready, Strider?"

"We are."

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Authors' Note: We regret to say that we won't be able to post the next chapter until Monday because both of us are going to visit friends for the weekend. Thank you for your patience!