Good Hithdol belongs to Gwynnyd and is used with permission.

The same procedure

The person that had coined the phrase "it's good to be king" certainly had never enjoyed that position, Aragorn thought while he was standing in the middle of his dressing room. Various noblemen of different ages crowded around him, each holding a single piece of clothing and waiting until it was their turn to pass the item over.

The elderly man that held his tunic, the name had escaped him, bowed low and Aragorn could hear the joints creak when he straightened again and shoved the tunic right into the hands of poor Hithdol, who got a look of confusion on his face that he quickly managed to mask before anyone else could take notice. The majordomo gave Aragorn an apologetic smile and set to awkwardly pulling the sleeves over his arms. Aragorn, who knew from personal experience that any fussing would only prolong the procedure, held himself perfectly still.

"Your majesty," the man spoke but didn't quite meet Aragorn's eyes, "if I may be so bold as to request a bit of your time?"

Aragorn lifted an eyebrow and inclined his head in what he hoped was an indulgent gesture.

"It concerns my daughter, sir."

Aragorn groaned inwardly. He knew perfectly well what was bound to come next; it had, after all, already happened a few times before. And it really was too early in the day to have such a conversation. Only a few words would be enough to drive off all ambitious fathers, but it was not time for that yet. He searched for the right name.

"The lady Morwen?"

A broad grin split the man's face. "Indeed, sir. I feel honoured that you remember her."

Well, it was difficult not to remember her. Her behaviour last night had left no room for debate as to the nature of her intentions. But that was nothing new for him and he had learned to deal with such a situation, which did not say that he relished it. Could they not see that it was friendship that he needed, not people that ruined their backs bowing to him and trying to get him to marry their daughters?

Hithdol had finished with the buttons and Aragorn seated himself in an uncomfortable chair. "I believe that you are leaving for your lands in Lamedon tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir, there are a few things that I have to see to in person. But my Morwen would be delighted to receive your letters."

Aragorn flipped his hand and smiled. "That will not be necessary. But where now is Faramir, Hithdol? He should have been here by now."

"The lord Steward and lord Haldor chose to wait for you in your study to discuss private matters with you this morning, sire," Hithdol answered with a bow.

"Wonderful," Aragorn exclaimed and swept towards the door, "let tea for three and something to eat be brought. And Hihdol, do make sure that we are not disturbed."

Once in the corridor, Aragorn breathed in deeply. He needed fresh air and less people hovering about. He tucked at his collar. And perhaps more comfortable clothing.

The atmosphere in his study was calming. Haldor was lounging in Aragorn's chair, booted feet on the huge desk, while Faramir was standing by one of the great windows.

"You look stressed," Haldor commented, "what happened?"

"An ambitious father happened. He started talking about his daughter before I was even fully dressed. It is more than a mere nuisance."

"You should have listened to me and taken her with you years ago."

"Her?" Faramir asked, "why did you not say that you already had a lady?"

"Because my dear cousin still has unfounded doubts that she might not come after all."

"I do not," Aragorn protested, though he knew that it was true. He had received no sign and the tree in the courtyard was still dead. He went over to a window and looked down at the wakening city below them.
He had dreamt of being King of Gondor for such a long time, but all seemed empty at the thought of reaping the fruits of his labours without her. Dared he hope? It was the only thing he had ever had.

"Now come and sit down and let us enjoy this moment of privacy. It will be over soon enough!" Haldor urged.

And so Aragorn consented and made himself comfortable on the couch before the day would begin in earnest.