Chapter 13

 

Two very long weeks later, and with no further incidents, the elves, soldiers and healers from the White City boarded the elven ship and made ready to set sail. The decision had been made that it would be quicker, and easier on the injured, to travel as far as possible by ship rather than over uneven land.

Aragorn, still unable to stand for long periods of time on his own, was carried in a well-concealed litter. Arwen followed closely behind, carried also in a litter as she was not willing to walk on her own. The sadness in her normally cheerful and radiant eyes, bespoke the tragedy that had struck the royal family. Even Aragorn’s valiant attempt at cheerfulness was laced with the pain and sadness in his own crystal eyes.

“The trip to the White City should be quick, with fair winds.” Imrahil advised the King, who sat sipping tea from his sickbed.

“It will be good to be home.” Aragorn said simply glancing quickly at the second bed that had been placed in the room – on which Arwen lay, half dozing. “Thank you.” Aragorn’s tone had an air of finality to it that Imrahil had come to recognize as a polite dismissal. He nodded respectfully and quickly removed himself from the room.

When the door nicked shut, leaving the couple alone, Arwen buried her face in her hands. She'd been strong in the presence of others, but now that they were alone, with no one fussing over their health, Arwen could no longer hold back the tears. Her shoulders began to shake and Aragorn could hear the faint sobs.

He closed his eyes, fighting back the wave of sadness that threatened to consume him at the heart-wrenching sound. There was nothing worse in the world that the sound of a woman's tears - and that sound, now given voice by the woman he loved most in the world, would haunt him until the day he died.

 “Indonya.” Aragorn reached for her but his injuries prevented him from being able to do nothing more than graze her shoulder with his fingertips. He could think of nothing more to say than, “I’m sorry,” as his eyes welled with his own tears.

“Our baby.” Arwen’s voice cracked as Aragorn watched his wife tenderly cradle her stomach, as if there was still a life within to protect. She rolled onto her side, her back to him.

Aragorn winced in pain as he slid closer to the edge of his bed, cursing the injuries that prevented him from offering much needed comfort to his beloved. Against Celeborn’s orders, Aragorn swung his legs over the side and rested there while his eyes uncrossed from the pain in his side. Aragorn knew if Celeborn were to catch him, he wouldn’t be allowed in the same room with Arwen for the duration of their journey – or longer.

 

When Arwen felt the bed dip heavily with his weight, she turned her head slowly toward her husband. Puffy eyes, red from her tears, widened and she rolled over to face him as he settled heavily onto the cushions.

“You shouldn’t be up.” Arwen whispered.

“I can endure a little pain if my embrace can offer you the least bit of comfort.” He leaned slowly back against the pillow and drew her gently against his chest.

She melted into his embrace and her tears soaked his bedclothes as she sobbed into them. He smoothed ebony hair down the back of her head in a vain effort to still her grief. It did no good as the floodgate on her emotions broke, spilling onto her husband with the force and intensity of an avalanche.

He held her as tight as he dared, but it was not enough. It would never be enough to still the pain of their lost child.

“I don’t want to lose you. I couldn’t bear it.” She whispered against his chest, again feeling the slight rasping that she feared would be with him for the rest of his life - or be the cause that ended that life. “Our baby….I can’t forget the pain. I feel so empty.”

“I am alive. You are safe in my arms, and when the Valar permit, we will have another babe.” Aragorn soothed.

“The pain will never end, Estel,” Arwen continued to sob into his chest, unable to stop the tears.

“No, it will never end.” Aragorn admitted, his voice laced with its own emotion. He’d tried to suppress it, but his wife, crying her heart out against his chest, tugged at him, pulling the grief to the forefront of his mind. “We will never forget.”

He was unable to reach his arm across her body to hold her, so instead gripped tightly the hand that rested lightly on his chest. “We have another. The emptiness will not last forever.”

“One day I will loose you,  Estel. Just like I lost our babe. And my hands will be tied once again.” She sobbed and Aragorn had no answer, knowing she was right. “When that day comes, I will follow you in grief.”

Aragorn shook his head, trying to deny the heartache her words caused. One day they would be parted.  But that day had not yet come. Would not come for a very long time.

 

Finding no words that could still her pain, or her sobs, he simply tightened his hold on his wife and let her tears soak into his tunic. His own tears dropped into her ebony hair as he found himself unable to hold back the overwhelming grief.

 

--------------------------

 

Imrahil watched as the tower inched ever so much closer. The White City was in sight now, and he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief that they had made it safely.

“It still stands. Obviously the councilor's warnings were not justified,” Celeborn stepped next to Imrahil his eyes following those of the Prince. There was a hint of annoyance in the elven Lord’s voice but Imrahil knew better than to ask.

“Perhaps,” Imrahil’s eyes flecked across the Palennor, narrowing as he noticed the increased guard around the city, the mounted soldiers riding in a formation that did not resemble a casual lookout. “Perhaps not.”

The two watched as there waited a mounted escort at the docks, led by one of Aragorn’s Dunedain advisors.

“Ardhil will give you the news you seek.” Celeborn nodded toward the mounded man, one of Aragorn’s distant kin from the north kingdom.

“If the rangers don’t have any additional information, then there is no one who does.” Imrahil nodded as the ship glided to a halt and the anchor was dropped.

Imrahil smiled as he noted the covered royal carriage that had rarely been used since Elessar’s crowning. “At least we will be able to get them back into the City without too much fanfare.”

“It may be good for Aragorn to make an appearance, to assure the people that he is well.” Celeborn advised. “Or they will wonder why he is returning to the city in a manner different than when he left.”

“I agree. I will need to speak with Faramir immediately.  Since he was called back last week to oversea this ‘dispute’, if you can even call it such, he may have learned more about this declaration the Haradrim intend to make on Gondor.”

“Best to keep this from the King until you have substantial news to report.” Celeborn said, “ His body must heal, as must his heart.”

 

Imrahil nodded with a slight wince, knowing it would take far longer for the hearts of the royal couple to heal than it would their bodies.

Boats were readied and Imrahil turned to see the twins escorting a slow-moving Arwen toward them while Aragorn stood beside her. Legolas and Gimli waited behind the King in case his strength gave out before they reached the boats that would take them to shore.

 

------------------------------

 

The City had been informed of the King’s return and lined the streets waiting for a glimpse of the man they had not seen for many months. Even strangers, clad in unusual garb, watched from the shadows, eager to glimpse the renowned King Elessar as he returned to his White City. They watched with curious, dark eyes, and clutched their cloaks further around their bodies.

Children ran through the streets screaming to their parents and soldiers lined the pathway the carriage would take through the City.

The carriage bearing the couple moved slowly through the gates, and Aragorn tossed aside the curtain covering one of the windows to wave to the crowd. Arwen did the same, from the other side, giving the people a glimpse of the royal couple, assuring them that all was well with the royal family.

A decision would be made later if they would announce the loss of the babe to the people. Despite his objection, Aragorn conceded that it is best he consult his advisors with regards to an announcement to the entire Kingdom. A great many people already knew of the royal couple’s loss, and to keep it a secret from the rest could cause doubt and concern. Elessar had been honest and forthcoming with his people in the past, it was only fair of him to let them share in his grief.

When the King and Queen were safely settled in the House of Healing, Imrahil immediately joined Faramir, seeking to discover what had transpired with the visiting Haradhrim Lords.

“By the looks of things it did not go well.” Imrahil observed, taking a seat across from the King’s desk, which Faramir would continue to sit behind, until Aragorn was well enough to resume his duties once again.

“They have declared that Aragorn’s unwillingness to meet with them is an act of war.” Faramir rubbed tired eyes. “They have returned to their lands to advise their King. Apparently, having been forced to wait so long for an audience with Elessar has caused great unrest within their King’s advisory council.”

Imrahil raised an amused eyebrow. “War? Do they honestly think that they can so easily declare war on Gondor and even come within a breath of taking the City? This is absurd.”

“I think it may have been a tactic to see if I would reveal what duties the King attended that kept him away for so long.” Faramir leaned back, stretching for the first time in hours.  “Still, I have sent word to King Eomer as well as to the elves in Ithilian in case we should need their aid.”

Imrahil groaned and brushed a hand through silver-specked hair. “We need to tell Aragorn about this. As soon as he is well enough, an audience with the Haradrim King must be encouraged. If anyone can talk this King out of such a foolish declaration, it is Aragorn.”

“I know. I’ve been hesitant to place more stress on his shoulders." Faramir admitted with a sigh. “As soon as I speak to Ioreth, and ascertain when he can return to his duties,  I will send riders to their lands and give them an audience.”

“They may insist that he come to them.”

“And then I will insist they come here. For our King has just returned from many months away from his City and has no wish to leave on a long errand so soon.” Faramir answered, hoping that the Haradrim would believe his words.

“I agree. Dol Amroth will stand ready with aid should harm befall the White City or any of its surrounding holdings.”

Faramir stood and nodded. “Let me speak to a few more of the advisors and we will speak The King. I want to have as much of the facts to present to him as possible, as well as several solutions. Gondor isn’t going to war if there is anything we can do to prevent it.”

 

The End

 

TBC in “Retribution.”

 

‘Retribution’ will be the last story in this series and it will probably be the most angst filled and shocking of the four. Read at your own risk.