Journey to the North (Sequel to Rangers of the North)

Chapter Three: Baldor

Averael sat with Aragorn, Faramir, Eowyn, and another man at a small table, eating lunch as they discussed among themselves what would happen in the king and queen's absence. Eros was out with his companions, spending time with them before he had to leave again.

The third man at the table, Baldor, was a barrel chested, dark haired man in his late forties. He had been an advisor to the last ruling steward of Gondor, Denethor, before his death. Faramir was Denethor's last surviving son and also the official steward of Gondor. Baldor would be assisting Faramir in his temporary rule over the realm. It would be about a six month journey to Arnor, and six months back, with perhaps a year or two in between to allow for Aragorn to establish the kingdom and get it running smoothly again.

Averael was only half-listening to the conversation. She hadn't had much of an appetite tonight- the smell of cooked rabbit was nearly turning her stomach, though she'd eaten hers and Aragorn's honey cake. Aragorn glanced at her questionably but didn't say anything, still going over plans and laws with the other two men. Eowyn looked at her studiously, as if she knew something Averael didn't, and Averael made a mental note to ask her about it later. 

Servants came to clear the table after the midday meal was over, but the five of them remained seated. Aragorn was now warning Baldor and Faramir of Ciranor's killer- they still hadn't found him. The secret paths had been searched, but there had been no signs of a murderer on any end. Aragorn had arranged for soldiers to be kept at every entrance to the royal quarters and the top level of the city. Averael had suggested bringing some guards with them to Arnor, but Aragorn had refused. He didn't know who to trust in the kingdom- any one of the soldiers could have been dangerous to them. She had barely been able to convince him to invite Baldor to assist Faramir, and only then because Baldor had been Denethor's assistant as well and already knew Faramir. It made her a little nervous to go to Arnor with just Eros, but from what Eros had said, there would be plenty of protection in the old kingdom, and she didn't need to worry. 

"The honey cake was delicious." Eowyn's voice caught Averael's attention. She turned to the woman, smiling.

"I had the recipe brought from the Shire a little while ago. It's one of the things I've missed the most from my travels west of the Misty Mountains." She said, reminiscing back to when she had last been in the Shire. It had been many years before- too long. She felt flutters of excitement in her stomach again. 

"Not a fan of rabbit?" Eowyn asked now, prodding.

"Ah... no, not today. I've had a lot of rabbit over the years." Averael said, coming up with some excuse. She usually didn't have a problem with easy meals like this one- rabbit had been one of her staples as a ranger traveling the wilds.

"I see," Eowyn nodded, chuckling slightly. "I think the men have got this taken care of. Should we go fit you for your clothes?" 

"Yes, that would be good." Averael said, excusing herself from the table and standing, giving Aragorn a quick kiss before leaving with Eowyn. A soldier followed behind. Averael wasn't used to the constant eye of guards on her, especially recently with Aragorn's increased security, but she brushed it off, talking with Eowyn as they made their way to the tailor. 

The tailor gave her a slip to wear so they could measure her, and Eowyn assisted. Like Averael, Eowyn was uncomfortable with the formality of royal status, and did things on her own a lot. Besides, Eowyn had helped with a lot of the homemaking back in Rohan, and before long, Eowyn was taking all the measurements while the tailor brought back rolls of cloth for Averael to choose from.

Eowyn mumbled Averael's waist measurement under her breath as she took the pencil from her mouth and scratched it down on a piece of parchment. Averael frowned, peering over Eowyn's shoulder to see if she had heard correctly. Eowyn looked up at her, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh, nothing," Averael waved her hand. "I could have sworn that measurement was smaller last time I was fitted." She picked out a sturdy brown leather from a row of choices for her tunic, and the tailor walked off to set it aside. Eowyn stood, hiding a smile, and scribbled something down on the parchment so that Averael couldn't see. 

"What is it?" Averael asked, taking back her dress from the tailor. She put it on and Eowyn stepped behind to help tighten the laces in the back. Eowyn just laughed, and Averael smiled in confusion, trying to understand why Eowyn was acting so funny. 

"Well, my Lady-- Averael," Eowyn corrected herself, tugging on one of the laces, "I've been a midwife enough times to guess why that measurement is a little bigger this time around."

It took a moment to sink in, and when it did, Averael froze. Midwife? 

"I'd guess you're about eight weeks along." Eowyn said nonchalantly and finished lacing up the dress, then moved back around to meet Averael's shocked expression. She beamed at Averael, and Averael just stared back, unsure of how to respond. She moved her hands to cover her mouth in surprise, then down to her belly, then back to her mouth. Eowyn grabbed one of her hands and started to lead her out of the tailor's shop. "I made a note to the tailor to make clothes that allow for room to grow." The golden-haired woman looked back at Averael, laughing out loud at her continued expression of shock.

"I can't--- are you--- I---" Averael stammered, almost unable to talk. She thought back at the past few weeks- the random mood swings, the rabbit that normally wouldn't have turned her stomach, the sleeplessness at night- she had attributed it all to the anxiety and excitement of their upcoming trip. Suddenly it all made sense. 

She was going to be a mother.