Seeds of the White Tree

Chapter 14 - At a Woman's Mercy

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Only a matter of days after saying goodbye to Elfwine and the party from Rohan, it was Eldarion and Túrien's turn to depart Minas Tirith. Because of the importance of this journey to Harad, and much to Aragorn's chagrin, preparing the delegation to set out was a highly ordered affair. The lords and ladies of Gondor assembled in the Great Citadel atop the city to formally send off the kings and their company. Black and white banners were everywhere to be seen. Aragorn would have much preferred to leave quietly through one of the city's minor gates to avoid all this. Leave it Faramir to have arisen even earlier than his lord that morning to prevent just such a thing.

When at last the lord of Pinnath Gelin finished delivering his speech of well-wishes for the negotiations (every word of which Aragorn found incredibly ironic given how vocally Pinnath Gelin had opposed treating with the Haradrim at earlier councils), there remained only personal farewells to be said before taking their leave. One wondered how well a husband could truly farewell his wife and children before the eyes of all of Gondor's nobility though. That was why Aragorn, Eldarion and Túrien had said their real goodbyes to Arwen, Eruthiawen and Almárëa earlier in privacy. Still, appearances had to be maintained for the court.

Drawing down from the steps of the White Tower of Ecthelion, Arwen dipped in a stately curtsy to her king. The queen was resplendent in an off-the-shoulder gown of richest blue velvet, delicate white beadwork sewn so carefully along the cuffs and collar that they could easily have been mistaken for thread. The royal diadem set into her long black hair twinkled up at its silver and pearl counterpart on Aragorn's brow. Even the ever-poised lords of Gondor never failed to soften at the sight of the Star of the White City. Aragorn was even fonder still though of Arwen in moments between the two of them alone. As he bowed and pressed a kiss to her soft hand, he thought back to their private farewell in their chambers before daybreak.

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The soft pre-dawn glow filling the room offered to lull Aragorn back to sleep, but he knew he must soon rise. Besides, Arwen was with him, and he would not squander any moments which just they two might share. Rolling over in bed, he found his wife already awake and watching him. Sleeping in the manner of mortals was not something that Arwen had always done, especially not in her life as a daughter of elf-kind. When she had first come to him in Minas Tirith, Aragorn discovered his bride to be both joyful and restless. No longer was the elvish reverie enough for her to fully replenish herself, but neither did a human's sleep come easily. It had taken time, and many long nights spent lying awake in Aragorn's arms after he had nodded off before she learned to sleep and dream as he did. To this day though Arwen remained an extraordinarily early riser; earlier even than her Dúnedain husband.

"Mae athollen (Welcome back)," she whispered, speaking in Sindarin as was their preference when they were alone. "What did you dream of last night?"

"Good morning, my love. I fear that there is little to tell from my dreams though, for all the time I spent wandering in them. They escape my mind already. What of your own?"

Arwen stretched long and languid, the sheets falling away from her smooth arms and graceful form. Aragorn could not resist the temptation offered by the rivers of dark hair spread across Arwen's pillow. Reaching across, he took up a lock of her hair and let it play between his fingers, combing the soft tresses tenderly.

Arwen smiled, watching him. "Some nights I wonder if perchance the waking dreams of the Eldar are entwining themselves into the fabric of my mortal rest. I remember and command myself fully in my sleep, as an elf does, and yet my dreams are human in feel. It is a strange thing, and sometimes I can be fooled into believing that I am awake while still wandering the paths of my mind."