He was in the peaceful realm of dreams when a sudden weight fell on his chest. Aragorn gasped as the air was knocked out of his lungs, and he immediately reached for his sword. However, he was alarmed to find that it was not there. As he began to reach for the heavy object on his chest, it suddenly spoke.

“Ada!”

He immediately relaxed when he heard the familiar voice. He was not out a wanderer out in the Wild; he was in Minas Tirith, with his beautiful wife and his darling son. He opened his eyes and smiled at the four-year-old boy on his chest.

“Hello, Eldarion,” he said, and the little boy giggled in delight and started to bounce on his chest, causing the king to grunt.

“Ada, ada, ada!” the boy said between each bounce, Aragorn trying his best not to wince.

“Eldarion,” a sleepy voice beside him spoke. “Why are you up so early? The sun has not yet risen.”

“Nana!” the young boy squealed, climbing off of his father and to the open arms of his mother. “You are up!”

“Yes, Eldarion, I am,” she said with a smile. “But you have not yet answered my question.” Eldarion looked inquisitively at her, and then a large grin broke across his face. He squirmed out of her grasp and sat between the king and queen, a grin still encompassing his small face.

“Nana! How could you forget?” the young prince demanded.

Arwen frowned, but then sudden realization came to her, and she gave her son a large smile. “Ah. Of course. How could I forget? Quite silly of me, Eldarion, quite silly.” Eldarion nodded solemnly, and then giggled once more and bounced up and down in his spot. Aragorn looked between them, wearing a small frown.

“Forget what?” he asked. Instead of receiving an answer, his only reply was soft laughter and giggles.

“You forgot, too!” Eldarion said disbelievingly. “How could you forget?”

“Forget what?” he asked again, his brow wrinkling in concern. Seeing this, Arwen laughed and leaned towards him.

“Your birthday, meleth nin,” she whispered into his ear, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Happy birthday, my love.”

“Happy birthday, ada!” squealed Eldarion, throwing himself on his father’s chest and completely oblivious to the discomfort of the king.

“Ah, of course. My birthday; another year older,” he grumbled good-naturedly once he regained his breath. He lifted his son off of him and sat up, absentmindedly rubbing his stomach.

“How old are you, ada?” asked Eldarion.

“Too old,” he replied. “Older than you can count.” Eldarion’s eyes widened. “But your mother is older; ask her how old she is.”

“Estel!” Arwen said exasperatedly, lightly hitting his shoulder and trying to ignore his chuckles.

Apparently satisfied that both of his parents were awake, Eldarion crawled out of the large bed and ran to the door. “The cook was baking a cake yesterday, ada! I’m going to bring it up.”

“Eldarion!” Arwen shouted after him, but she was too late and he was already out the door. “Estel, stop laughing!” she said to her husband, who was trying his best to keep his voice down in such an early hour. “Honestly, he is completely like you.”

Aragorn grinned, and then pulled his wife close to him. “Don’t worry, meleth, by this time he’ll have his nanny, a couple servants, and maybe a guard or two running after him. As it is, I’m surprised that she did not stop him from entering our room.”

“Well, as I said, he is completely like you; he can sneak past nearly anyone, if he has the mind for it,” Arwen said with a small shake of her head; Aragorn, however, saw past this façade and saw that she was trying to hide a smile. He simply pulled her closer in response.

Arwen sighed contentedly, and looked up into his eyes. “Happy birthday, Estel,” she said. “Here’s my birthday present to you.” And she pulled him into a kiss, and they were lost within their own world.