Misplaced Suspicions

Aragorn pretended not to hear his wife as she spoke quietly to Legolas. He kept his eyes on the book on front of him trying to ignore the sounds of laughter coming the other side of the room.

He, his brothers, his wife, and Legolas were in the royal couple’s private family room, enjoying a late night gathering. At least, he had been trying to enjoy it. He had been up early that morning, and was now quite irritable. As he sneezed and tiredly blinked his eyes, he glanced up to see a look pass between Arwen and two other peredhil. The man glared somewhat resentfully at them, catching Legolas’ attention. “Is something the matter, Estel?”

The man shook his head. “Nothing, Legolas.” He turned a page of his book, pretending to read. But in reality, his mind was wandering.

For the past month Arwen had seemed to be ignoring him. She was grumpy—there really was no better way to put it—in the mornings, and usually nagged him during the nights. Strange it was that he, who could face many orcs without blinking, was afraid of an irate elf queen. And one other thing that bothered him was the fact that he had seen Arwen with Legolas together at many times. He had his suspicions about what they were up do, but decided to keep them to himself for the time being.

Another giggle came from his wife. Unable to stand it much longer he got up and walked—or rather, stalked—out of the room.

Arwen leaned against her eldest brother, mirth sparkling in her eyes. “Did you see the look on Estel’s face?” she held a glass of wine in her hand and took a sip from it.

Elladan chuckled. “It was priceless, muinthel nîn.” He sat up on sofa, nudging Elrohir aside. “But I fear you and Legolas are going to get yourselves into a lot of trouble.”

The Silvan elf grinned like a small child. “Really, Elladan?”

“Yes, my friend. That look our brother had was one of jealousy.”

Legolas’ eyes widened. “Surely you do not suggest that Estel thinks—?”

When Elladan nodded, Arwen fell into another fit of giggles. “Legolas, at times you can be quite naïve.” She said between laughs.

The elf looked rather affronted. “I am certainly not naïve,” he replied darkly as he took a sip of his wine.

“Well, you certainly are younger than all of us,” Elladan reminded him.

“By only a few hundred years.” Legolas retorted, though he was smiling. His hand reached for a cushion. “And your father used to say how you and Elrohir act very much like elflings.” He covered his face with the pillow just as Elladan threw a pillow at him.

Arwen got up off the large sofa, standing beside the fire. She gazed at the three ellyn, somewhat lost in her memories. Smiling, she slipped off the circlet she wore, running her hand through her long, silky hair. Setting it aside, she reached for a cushion of her own to join the fight.

A servant passed by at that moment. He peeked into the slightly ajar door. Elladan and Elrohir had overpowered Legolas, and were now trying to make him eat the fluffy material in the cushions. Arwen sat on the floor clutching a pillow to her chest. She was laughing so hard that tears were in her eyes. The servant raised an eyebrow at the sight before going on his way.

Elves. He would never understand them.

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Sometime after midnight, Aragorn groggily awoke. His head hurt, and so did his throat. He feared he had the beginnings of cold. Lying on his back he sniffed, trying to clear his nose. Beside him, Arwen sighed and rolled over way from him. Her elbow bumped against his waist. He jerked at the movement, glancing at his wife. The peredhel curled up a little tighter and let out another sigh. Aragorn turned his head away and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come.

It did not. Here he was, exhausted and sullen, wishing he could find rest. As he pressed his face into the coolness of his pillow, he felt Arwen sit up on the bed. Instantly he lay still, trying to quiet his breathing. The elleth swung her feet off the bed and stepped onto the floor. Aragorn thought he felt Arwen leaning over him, but was unsure. When he heard the steady footsteps go out the door of their bedroom and into hall, he sat up slowly. Donning on a large robe, he quickly stepped out, quite forgetting about his shoes. The king peered to his right and caught sight of the trailing end of Arwen’s dress as she rounded the corner. He quickly strode in that direction, but when he turned around the corner he nearly collided with one of guards. “My king!” The man gasped, stumbling back a pace. “I came to tell you that your wife, she is wandering—”

Aragorn hurriedly cut him off. “I know. I am following her because—” he paused, not really having an answer. “—err, because we are playing a game,” he finished rather lamely.

The guard simply looked at him. His king was…playing? “A game?” he repeated blankly. A thousand thoughts flew to his head. “My lord I—” he stuttered, his face reddening.

Aragorn also flushed. Surely the soldier did not think he was a man of such interests! He coughed and waved his hand nervously. “It is not what you think!”

He cleared his throat. “It is a game Arwen used to play when we were in still unwed,” he quickly added. He was stretching the truth, he knew. Arwen and he had “played” a sort of hide-and-seek game during his visit to Lothlórien after his service in Gondor. “And now I am seeking her.” He finished, glancing at the other man.

The sentry nodded, still a little cautious. “If you say so, my liege,” he answered. “I must go on about my other duties.” Bowing once he turned away.

Aragorn leaned against the wall and sighed. Could you not have thought of something else, Aragorn? How witless you can be at times. What will that man tell others? That the King of Gondor plays games with his wife, a game of seeking and catching his wife? What if they begin to discuss—

He shuddered and decided not to think too deeply for fear his mind turn to…less than appropriate thoughts. Rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes he continued walking through the dark corridor. He paused to ask a guard where his wife was heading. The man replied that she was heading to the gardens. Thanking him, Aragorn nearly ran the rest of the way. He reached the door that led the garden, and found it open. He peeked out, eyes searching the garden.

Arwen was sitting on a bench with Legolas, both of them smiling. Legolas spoke something too soft for Aragorn to hear as he handed to Arwen something that glittered in the moonlight. Aragorn tightly gripped the doorframe; it seemed his misgiving was all too real. An utter rage filled him, but before he could do anything he sneezed.

The two on the bench froze. Legolas, circling an arm around Arwen, stood up. “Who is there?” he called out. His hand snaked to the knife he carried.

Aragorn stepped out in full view. “What were you doing with my wife?” He asked somewhat harshly.

“Nothing,” the elf replied defensively. “I was merely giving Arwen something.” He left Arwen’s side. “I leave you now and bid you a good night.” He quickly headed away.

“Legolas!” The man started forward, but Arwen placed a hand on his arm. “Sîdh, Estel,” she quietly said. “You do not under—”

“I know what I saw,” Aragorn interrupted.

Arwen’s eyes flashed. “You did not see anything.”

Aragorn lost his patience. He had held in his feelings long enough. “I did not see anything this past month, hear anything, or notice anything?” He asked disbelievingly. “What happened, Arwen? You have been upset with me, and then you ignored me.” He pressed his fingers against his temple. “And I’m sick and you don’t even care!” He felt foolish for saying that last phrase, but he was too tired to care.

Much to his surprise, Arwen simply looked at him and begin laughed. “Estel, Estel” she smiled. “If only you knew what we were doing.” She rested her hands on his shoulders. “I was doing this for you.” Reaching into the pocket of her robe she pulled out something. “Hold out your hand,” she instructed him. He did so, and she placed something in his palm and closed his fingers over it. Giving a kiss to his forehead she stepped back.

The man glanced down, opening his fingers. There lay the Evenstar jewel, whole and unblemished, glittering against his palm. He looked up sharply at Arwen, a question in his eyes.

The queen touched the side of his face. “I found this locked away,” she explained. “I had wondered why you no longer wore it.” Her fingers began playing with the strands of his hair. “I gave it to Legolas, because he once mentioned to me that he knew am elven jewelsmith who had a gift of repairing jewelry. I meant to give it to you next week, as a present for your birthday.” She looked up at him. “Estel?”

Aragorn could not answer. One part of him was relieved that she was still his, and another was feeling guilty for harboring such thoughts. “Undómiel,” he finally replied. “Forgive me for thinking that you and Legolas—” he paused, eyes filled with emotion. Never did he think that the pendant would ever be restored after it had shattered.

She pressed her fingers over his lips. “None of your excuses, Elessar.” She lightly scolded him.

“But—”

“Now, do you like my gift or not.”

“Of course I do!” Aragorn replied somewhat indignantly. “I never thought to see it again.” He added in a gentler tone. He reached out one hand to tuck Arwen’s hair behind her ear. “Thank you, my love.” Slowly, he clasped the jewel to his neck and let it fall, its end resting in the hollow of neck. He smiled, remembering how he had worn the jewel during his travels with the Fellowship, how glad he had been when Legolas returned it to him after he had reached Helm’s Deep, and how he had thought it lost when it had fallen.

Arwen touched his face, redirecting his attention to the present. “This is not the only surprise,” she said, watching his face. “I am with child, Estel. You will have a son in a year.”

He stepped back a pace. “A son?” he repeated. “Are you sure?”

She shook her head at his questions. “Yes, Estel. I am very sure.”

He sat down on the bench. “How did this come to place?” he mumbled to himself.

Arwen seated herself next to her husband. “I think he was conceived when—” Anything else she attempted to say was cut off by Aragorn. “Arwen! Do not say such things!” He looked horrified.

She looked coyly at him. “And why not, dear husband.”

He glanced around the garden. “Because there are certain people who might be around who do not need to hear about our personal lives,” He answered.

She giggled and pressed closed to him. “Very well.” She murmured. Her fingers idly toyed with the Evenstar pendant as she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed in contentment.

Aragorn watched her with an unperturbed expression on his face. He covered his nose and mouth when a sudden sneeze erupted. Groaning, he sniffled.

Arwen looked at him, concern in her eyes. “Will you be all right?”

He nodded. “I will be fine in a few days.” He flicked away a strand of hair that had fallen across his face. “What should we name him?”

The elf shrugged. “Will be giving him only one name?”

“Of course. I do not want him to grow up with too many names, like you elves are so fond of.” Aragorn smiled. “I already have at least ten of them.”

“You, my love, are an exception. Even elves did not have so many names.” Arwen turned her head to the sky. “I wish he could have a name that would reveal that he is of Edhel-sui heritage.”

“You wish? Do you not mean you want to?” Aragorn gently teased her. “Every time you wish for something, I know it is your want.” He emphasized the two words, ducking the swat she aimed at his shoulder. “Estel!” she said reprovingly, but there was amusement in her eyes. “I like the name Eldarion.”

“’Scion of the Elves’?” Aragorn thought for a moment.

“It can also mean, ‘son of the stars’, Estel.” Arwen reminded him. “Do you like it?”

Aragorn held her hands in his. “I do.” He grinned at her. “Your wish is my command, my lady.” He added.

“Oh, you-you—” Arwen giggled. “So it is settled. He shall be called Eldarion.” She shifted closer to Aragorn. “How much longer would you like to stay out?”

Aragorn circled an arm around her waist. “I want to see Arien rise in the east,” he answered, “And even though she is fair and beauteous, there is one whose beauty is far greater than she.” He gently caressed her wife’s cheek. “You.”

“Do you not have meeting—?” Arwen began to ask, but Aragorn shook his head. “I am calling it off. Politic can wait for the time being.” She pressed his forehead to hers. “Tomorrow morning, we can announce the conception of your son, Eldarion.”

She touched his nose. “Tomorrow, you need to apologize to Legolas for your words.” She reminded him.

“I will.” Aragorn absently answered, his mind on other things.

No more words were needed as their lips met in an affectionate kiss. Arwen leaned into Aragorn, letting him hold her close. Breaking the kiss she allowed him to support her as they waited for the Flame of Anar to appear on the horizon.

The End

Translations:

Peredhil – half elves

Muinthel nîn – my sister

Ellyn – Male elves

Peredhel – half elf

Elleth – female elf

Sîdh – peace

Edhel-sui – Elf-like (I could not find “Elven.”)