These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more. --Lovelace.

“No, Estel!” Arwen exclaimed in horror. “Rather would I live out my days as a beggar with you than have you risk your life in such a reckless fashion.”

“Arwen,” Aragorn said gently. “That is not what I promised your father. He gave you to me as my wife on the condition that I made you my Queen. Then, where should we live? We cannot stay here forever, dreading discovery more with every day that passes. I spent most of my life hiding in the shadows and will do it no longer! It is my duty to try to save my people too. I am sworn in all honour to protect them.”

“We could go to the North and live at Rivendell with my brothers,” Arwen suggested desperately. “They would welcome us and we could live out our days happily with Eldarion beside us.”

“And if I am rejected and live to tell the tale, so we shall. If I fall though, you and the children must make your way first to Rohan and then on to Rivendell. Faramir and Éowyn will escort you.”

“I shall ride with you to Minas Tirith,” Faramir said firmly.

“No, you shall not!” Aragorn and Éowyn chorused almost with the same breath.

“You are not going, if I do not go with you!” Faramir protested vehemently. “I have always tried to be your obedient servant, sire, but this one order I refuse to obey!”

“Yes, you were very obedient when you joined the rebellion against me!” Aragorn retorted with biting sarcasm.

“Then, let me try to atone!” Faramir pleaded. “What chance of success do you have without me?” Those who seek both your life and your crown have been proclaiming that Gondor should return to the rule of the Stewards. If King and Steward ride side by side in amity, it destroys their argument and the people are not forced to choose between them. We live or die together!” Faramir said firmly. “Éowyn, I am sorry, but I must do this both for the King and for Gondor.”

Aragorn nodded his head curtly, conceding defeat.

“Had I not our child to consider I would ride beside you,” Éowyn replied. “I too, would show my loyalty to my lord.”

“Your loyalty is not in any doubt, my lady,” said Aragorn. ”You have never pretended any false devotion towards me.”

“Nor did I!” Faramir whispered in an almost inaudible tone, his head bowed.

“I will come too,” Damrod offered, vainly trying to make sense of what exactly was transpiring between his King and his former Captain, who both seemed to have forgotten his presence in the room.

Aragorn started, remembering the young man’s presence, then shook his head. “No, Damrod, I have a more important task for you. You are to wait here with the Queen, Lady Éowyn and the children. If Lord Faramir and I do not return, you are to see them safely to Edoras, where King Éomer will give them refuge.

“I will guard them with my life, sire!” Damrod replied.

“It lightens my heart to know that you will protect my loved ones,” Aragorn told him. “I would like you to stay here now. It is too dangerous for you to return to the city now that you have seen me and know my plans. If the rebels caught you and put you to torment, we would all be lost!”

“If only there were more to help us!” Arwen sighed, “Legolas and Gimli would bring Elves and Dwarfs to your side, but we have no idea where they are at present. The Hobbits would fight for you too, as would my brothers.”

“I would have none die, save those who betrayed me!” Aragorn said firmly, some of his former determination gleaming in his eyes.

Faramir gave an involuntary shudder at his words.

“My kitten is lost!” Elbeth breathlessly ran into the room, immediately ending the adults’ discussion.

“He cannot have gone far, I will help you look for him,” Faramir said, glad of an excuse to escape the tense atmosphere.

Arwen and Éowyn went to tend to the babies while Aragorn questioned Damrod further about events in Minas Tirith.

***

Spring had come early to Ithilien. The scent of blossom hung in the air, while the birds flew from tree to tree chirping merrily as they built their nests. The sun shone brightly out of a clear blue sky adorned with fluffy white clouds. All nature seemed to be rejoicing.

Aragorn had been well enough over the past week to get dressed and sit outside in the garden. He had even taken Roheryn for short rides round the nearby fields, accompanied by Faramir on Zachus. The few peasants they had encountered, were far too busy sowing their spring crops to pay any attention to two plainly dressed horsemen trotting along by the hedgerows.

That afternoon, Arwen and Éowyn sat in the orchard with their children. Elbeth played with her kitten, which would conveniently get lost once he was tired of the game. Faramir had discovered that he had a hiding place in the barn curled up behind a bale of hay. He had not revealed it to his niece; instead he told her that her playmate would return when he wanted another game.

The Queen was hard at work at her needlework. She refused to reveal to the others what it was that she was sewing.

***

On the evening before his planned funeral, Aragorn went early to rest before the next day’s ordeal. Arwen was sitting with him; Elbeth was in the barn with Damrod and Bereth, leaving Faramir and Éowyn in the living room together with Elestelle.

“Must you go tomorrow?” Éowyn asked her husband pleadingly. “I fear they will kill you!”

“I do not want to leave you and our daughter, my love, but maybe that would be for the best,” Faramir said grimly. “At least I would die with honour!”

“Do not speak like that!” Éowyn chided. “How can you say such things?”

“Do not forget that the eyes of the law and of the world, I am a traitor,” Faramir said sadly. “I raised my hand against the King and spoke against him in open Council. I am not above the law and Aragorn will be obliged to punish me for my deeds.”

“But everything you did was to save him!” Éowyn protested.

“The law says nothing of motive,” Faramir replied. “The King does not trust me and believes I changed sides.”

“That is so unfair!” Éowyn fumed, “If only the fever epidemic had not delayed him passing those edicts he intended to protect the life of the King’s Steward!”

“I would still have forfeited my honour. Aragorn may yet demand my life and rightly so,” the Steward said quietly.

Éowyn shook her head. “No, I cannot believe he would harm you. You saved his life after all! He is too honourable a man and I believe he still loves you, whatever he says.”

“The King is but a man, who must honour the law of Gondor, as must I. Tomorrow is my chance to regain some of my honour. I beg your blessing ere I depart.”

Éowyn put her arms around him and kissed him on the brow. “You have my blessing as long as you promise to take care,” she said.

“I promise,” said Faramir.

Just then, Arwen entered with Eldarion in her arms. Her expression was deeply troubled.

“How is the King?” Faramir asked, respectfully rising to his feet.

“He is sleeping,” she replied, gesturing for him to sit down and placing Eldarion in his crib, before seating herself on the chair opposite. She picked up her sewing and studied it carefully.

“I hope he has a good night’s rest,” said Faramir. “It will feel like a long journey on the morrow after spending so little time in the saddle of late.”

“Please try to protect him, Faramir!” Arwen pleaded, her beautiful eyes full of fear. “I know I have seem him ride off to war many times before, but this feels different.”

“I will try, my lady,” Faramir replied. “I would gladly give my life to save my lord!”

Éowyn shuddered, though she was now resigned to why Faramir felt he must accompany the King. Were he not so loyal, he would not be the noble man that she had married. She loved him for that loyalty, knowing it extended also towards her and their daughter, even though she feared it would make her an early widow.

“Estel seems to have lost something,” Arwen mused. “Some vital spark in him seems to be missing.”

“He suffered cruelly at the hands of the rebels,” Faramir said sadly. “They almost broke him completely. A lesser man would have lost his wits or died after so much torture.”

“I shared his thoughts and the horror was almost too much to bear,” Arwen replied. “They took away so much of his dignity and sense of who he is!”

“Maybe we could somehow restore his sense of kingship?” Faramir suggested with a sudden flash of inspiration. “Do you not know any Elven rites, with which you could consecrate him before he rides out tomorrow?”

“We have various rites of purification,” Arwen replied doubtfully, “I do not see how those could help much, though.”

“He once helped me with something like that,” Faramir told her, remembering how Aragorn had cleansed his sense of shame and guilt, a few months before, by bathing him with water in which athelas had been steeped.

“Gondorian coronation rituals are very lacking compared with those of Rohan!” Éowyn interrupted. “Long ago, a horse would be sacrificed and the King would be bathed in the blood to symbolise the sacred marriage between the king and the land. Nowadays, we daub the good earth of Rohan on the king’s hands and feet and our butter on his head to symbolise the fat of the land. Though, of course, our most sacred rite is the anointing. Éomer told me that when he believed Aragorn to be dying after the battle of the Black Gate, he anointed him and he believed that helped restore his strength.”

“Anointing! That sounds a good idea. I have heard it is a means of hallowing a king,” Faramir said thoughtfully.

“You are the expert at arranging ceremonies, so we will leave you to plan something for Estel tomorrow,” Arwen said sweetly. ”I have the royal regalia here with me that you brought when you believed my husband dead, so I will newly invest him with it on the morrow.”

“I shall do what I can,” Faramir promised, furrowing his brow in anxiety, though in fact he already had some ideas. Whether Aragorn would like them or not, was another matter. “We will need a bath prepared for him in the morning.”

“You had best attend to him there,” Arwen said. “He should be accustomed to you attending upon him by now.”

 “Would you anoint him, my lady?” Faramir asked. “As his wife and the Queen, that would be fitting.”

“I think we should all do that together,” Arwen replied. “For is not Éowyn of royal blood also? Elbeth too comes from the House that were kings in all but name for almost a thousand years. Three! That is a good number, for the Elves believe that three women in different stages of life, together hold great power. We will have to find him some suitable clothes, though I fear most of them will have to be borrowed from you, Faramir.”

“Perhaps Damrod would lend him his breastplate adorned with the White Tree?” Faramir suggested, yawning as he spoke “Perhaps Mistress Bereth still has her husband’s armour somewhere?”

 “We should all go to bed now, “ said Éowyn. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day. I will speak to Damrod and Bereth.”

The others agreed with her, and while Faramir and Éowyn settled down in the living room, Arwen joined her husband in the bedroom. He still needed to sleep with a candle burning. To Arwen’s keen eye, he looked very frail and vulnerable, even though, his bodily hurts were almost healed and his hair and beard had grown back. However, she still feared for his spirit and wondered if he would ever fully recover from his ordeal, or even be granted time to do so. She did not attempt sleep, but instead, lay there listening to him snoring and trying to imprint every detail of his beloved face upon her mind. She was determined to cherish every moment she could still spend with him. “Valar protect him!” she whispered. Arwen nestled close while taking care not to awaken him. ‘How could I bear to lose him now?’ she thought and a single tear fell on his pale cheek. Tenderly she kissed him, wishing she could keep him safe in her arms forever.

 TBC

A/N

The idea of the triple goddess is found in ancient religions, including the Teutonic, Greek and Celtic cultures as well as the ancient Middle East. It is still a popular belief amongst Pagans and represents the cycle of life or the phases of the moon.

The British Monarch is anointed at his or her coronation and it is the most sacred part of the ceremony, based on Biblical accounts of the Kings of ancient Israel.

Ritual bathing prior to becoming a Knight was practised in Britain before 1815.

Éowyn refers to events in "The Hidden Days of Healing" also on this site.