CHAPTER 38:  THE NEWS

Estel my friend,

I hope this message finds you well. By the time you read this, I shall be on my way to South Ithilien, where I am anxious to return. There are tasks to complete that were disrupted by those unfortunate events, on which I would rather not dwell.

Yet, even in haste, I wish to send you word as I promised. Be at peace, my friend, for I am well, and the wounds that were raw and tender before I left the City are now but light scars. No longer does the face of the Man fill my waking dreams either, due in no small part to the healing from your hands, for which I am grateful. Even now, in moments of quiet, I feel your spirit within me, mellon nin, and am comforted by it.

The road is long, and I must be on my way, but my step is now lighter because of you. Watch over yourself, Estel, and heed the counsel of the Evenstar, for even a king must rest.

Pray give my love to Arwen and Eldarion. 

You remain ever in my thoughts.

Legolas    

“I hear you did well at archery today, ion nin,” Aragorn said to Eldarion as the young prince came to see his father in the parlor before retiring to bed. The king and queen were warmed by the bright smile that lit their son’s face at the king’s praise.

“Yes, Father, I did! I remembered everything Legolas taught me,” the child proclaimed spiritedly.

“He would be very proud of you if he knew,” his father assured him.

The young prince frowned a little at those words. “But if he stays away much longer, he will not hear of it. When will we see him again?”

A light shadow flitted across Aragorn’s face at the query, and he looked at Arwen, who arched her fine eyebrows to suggest that her husband provide the answer. Aragorn turned back to the child and held his shoulders.

“Son, do you remember the elf Lanwil coming here on the day I returned?” he asked.

“Yes, I saw him. I thought he was Legolas, but he was not!”

“No, but he did bring a message from Legolas, and it said that he was returning to South Ithilien to finish some important tasks,” the king explained.

“But that was… um… a long time ago,” the child argued.

“Almost three weeks, darling,” his mother chimed in helpfully, an indulgent smile on her face. “Twenty days.”

“Twenty? That is a lot of days!” Eldarion exclaimed with an uncharacteristic pout on his handsome face. “And then before that, there were also… many weeks and days.”

Four months now since he left the City,Arwen said to herself. That length of time is hard for a child who waits.

“Perhaps he will come when he has completed his work,” the king said comfortingly, half to himself.

“I hope so,” Eldarion said, throwing his arms round his father’s neck. “I miss him.”

“So do we, ion nin,” his father said, wrapping his arms around his child and breathing in his scent. “But think no more of it for tonight. Go to bed now and have pleasant dreams.”

Releasing his hold on his father, the prince bid him good night and moved toward the waiting guard and nurse.

“I shall be along shortly with your story,” Arwen told her son, who walked off happily with his two escorts trotting behind. When he had left, she turned to her husband. “He will want a long story tonight,” she said, smiling. “I would not be surprised if I fell asleep in his room as well!”

“I shall not wake you if you do, meleth nin, my love,” he said laughingly, caressing her cheek. His heart was full as he looked at his wife. “The little one tires you, does she not?”

Arwen raised her brows, amused. “She? Why do you think it is a girl?”

“Because that is what I wish for,” he said simply, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Adar would have been able to tell,” Arwen said quietly, remembering her father who had had the gift of foresight.

“Yes, he would, if he were still here,” Aragorn agreed softly and suddenly turned contemplative, thinking about his foster father as well.

Arwen took the hand that was on her cheek and kissed it, and for some moments, the two of them sat in quiet recollection of the time when the elf lord Elrond had been with them, before he left Middle-earth. After a while, Arwen noted the pensive, distant look in the king’s eyes and asked quietly: “You fear that he will sail, do you not, my love?”

Aragorn gave her a puzzled look. “Adar? What do you mean? It has been nine years since – ” 

“It is not Adar I speak of, Estel,” she said gently, looking deeply into his eyes, holding his gaze and letting him see her love and understanding.

Sighing, Aragorn held her hands tightly and closed his eyes.

“Yes, I fear that,” he admitted, his voice taking on a dejected tone. “The sea-longing is a torment beyond my comprehension and certainly beyond my aid to relieve. No Man or elf can ease that for him. If he chooses to leave… I will not ask him to stay, for I have not the right. I have compelled my lips not to say what is in my heart.” Agony was evident in his voice as he added: “I do not wish for him to bear more pain for my sake.”

Arwen smiled in understanding. “I am certain he knows that, Estel. But be it your wish or not, he has borne it this past decade to remain at your side,” Arwen reminded him. “No other testimony do we need that the call of your heart has moved him more than the call of the sea. When I remember that, I feel that he will wait. He will not leave now.”

A thin ray of hope pierced the gloom of Aragorn’s heart at Arwen’s words. “I cannot deny that it would bring me great joy if he chose to remain, Arwen, and our lives would be the richer for it,” the king said. “But if he stays – even if it is for my sake – I wish for it to be what he truly desires.”

“It is his desire, Estel, for he loves you.”

“I pray your words are true, Arwen. Yet – he hides away in South Ithilien,” he said in a puzzled tone, and the hope that had colored his voice moments ago was now tinged with disappointment. “I see no reason why he could not come to the City himself before he returned to those woods. What tasks could be so important there that he could not wait?”

Arwen recalled the look on Lanwil’s face when she had asked him a similar question:  the young elf had appeared most reluctant and ill at ease, and would only say that his prince did not wish to delay. She kept this observation from Aragorn, fearing that she had read overly much into what had transpired.

“You know how he feels about those woods, Estel,” she said instead, seeking to soothe her husband. “Perhaps he felt that he had neglected them for too long.”

“That seems likely,” the king said, “but, other than the message he sent through Lanwil, we have had no word from him in almost four months now,” Aragorn lamented. “I cannot discard this feeling that he has been holding something in secret from me.”

Aragorn closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with his fingers, unwilling to say more.

Seeing his anguish, Arwen spoke quickly. “Estel, whatever occupies his time now – you will soon know; he will not hide it long from you, you know that.”

“But it is hard to fathom his mind when he keeps this silence, Arwen,” the king contended, shaking his head. “What signs do I have as to his intentions?” 

She thought for a moment before she spoke again.

“Perhaps he has already given you the signs, Estel,” she ventured. “His message was quite clear: his wounds are healing well, and Sarambaq no longer haunts him as before. He wished for you to know that he is strong again, or he would not have sent Lanwil.”

“Indeed, my heart was much lightened at the news, Arwen,” Aragorn conceded. “Legolas did not deserve to suffer so.”

“Then with the remnants of Mordor no longer a threat – I have little doubt that he will stay,” the queen said hopefully, feeling the heaviness in her husband’s heart and longing to lift his spirits. “He will not leave Middle-earth yet.”

Doubt still lingered in the king’s heart as he ran his fingers gently over his wife’s cheek again, but his face relaxed into a soft smile. “Your faith comforts me, my Undòmiel, and I thank Eru that you are in my life,” he said, wondering how he had been so fortunate to be blessed with the love of two of the fairest beings in Middle-earth.

The queen’s concern was allayed at his smile and his words. “I will always be with you, Estel,” she said lovingly, “and you need never doubt that.” She rose from where she had been seated. “I must now see to Eldarion before he falls asleep. Will you be retiring soon?”

“No, I must first speak with Faramir,” Aragorn said, sighing. “He returned to the City at dusk and sent word that he would see me tonight.”

“Did you not ask him to stop by Pelargir on his return journey? Perhaps he will have news about the elves for you.”

Aragorn nodded. “Yes, he was to view the rebuilding of the new homesteads on the river bank,” he replied. “And he may indeed bring news of Legolas and the elves, for they often board the ferry at Pelargir to cross the river.”

“Well, whatever questions you have will soon be answered then,” Arwen said in a relieved tone. “I will take my leave, my love. Do not stay up too late.” Giving the king a quick kiss and a smile, she turned and swept out of the parlor in a rustle of silk.

Left alone, Aragorn’s thoughts drifted again to his elven friend and the Undying Lands that awaited all elves. Fleetingly, as he would do once in a long while, he felt the ache of not being one of the Firstborn who could sail there, to behold the beauty of Valinor. He thought again about the irony of being a descendant of Eärendil – the great mariner who now traversed the skies in his ship Vingilot – and not be able to sail West himself.

Yet, he would not dwell long on the fate of the mortal Edain as some of his ancestors had – for it was with bitterness that they had attempted to reach the Undying Shores not destined for them, and by challenging the Valar, had earned their wrath and caused them to remove Valinor from the realm of this world. No, Aragorn had long made peace with the mortality of Men, for immortality would be but a doom if one had to bear endless years of pain. But, however he viewed immortality himself, the king of Gondor was most careful never to broach the subject in the presence of the Evenstar, for he did not wish to remind her of the sacrifice she had made in parting with her father for eternity, in order to wed him and remain with him in Middle-earth.

Hardly had these humbling thoughts crossed his mind before he heard footsteps outside the parlor, and a moment later, the tall, suave Steward of Gondor walked in and bowed slightly. He looked a little tired, and his voice sounded weary as he greeted the king.

“Faramir,” Aragorn said, “welcome back. Have you dined?”

“Yes, my Lord, thank you,” the Steward replied, seating himself opposite his king. “I needed to freshen up before I came to meet with you. It was a rather arduous journey, for we rode hard to reach the City before nightfall.”

The king smiled appreciatively. “I shall not keep you long then. Tell me briefly how the business at Dol Amroth went, and we will talk further tomorrow.”

“The meeting proceeded very amicably,” the Steward replied. “Imrahil will ride here before long with a delegation from the Southern Lands, and I dare say that Gondor will soon have more trading partners.”

The king grew more pleased in the next few minutes as they discussed Gondor’s brightening future, and decided that they would study the proposals Faramir had brought back with him the following day. But despite the success of his venture, a look of discomfiture remained on Faramir’s face, and it did not go unnoticed by Aragorn.

“Does something trouble you, Faramir?” the king queried, an expectant look on his face.

The Steward shifted a little in his chair and cleared his throat, but did not answer for a few moments. He looked at Aragorn who patiently awaited his response, and knew that the man before him would not dismiss him for the night before obtaining a particular piece of information from him. There would be no use in delaying it.

It is time, Faramir thought.

He clasped his hands nervously and said: “I stopped at Pelargir as you asked, Elessar.” He looked about to continue, but he paused and cleared his throat again.

Aragorn’s brows rose. “The homesteads – ?”

“That work is going well,” Faramir assured him hurriedly. “The Mayor has said that the townsfolk are being taken of, and the funds you sent are sufficient for the time being.” The king nodded at the news, and parted his lips to pose a question when Faramir’s next words cut him off:  “But that is not the only news I bring.”

Aragorn drew in a deep breath.

“What else then?” the king asked, beginning to feel a little uneasy himself. At Faramir’s obvious hesitation, he prompted: “Do you have news of Legolas?”

“No … he was in the woods across the river, busy with a task there,” he replied, noting the look of disappointment that flashed across the king’s face. “This was told to me by some of his kin whom I met in Pelargir.”

“In the town?” Aragorn asked. “What were they doing there? Why were they not with their prince?”

“They came for supplies, Elessar, I was told that they sometimes come across to Pelargir to purchase their needs from the townsfolk.” He said this as if it was a difficult subject to speak about, puzzling the king.

“That does not sound unusual,” the king remarked. “Why do you seem distraught by it?”

“Elessar… I was told that the supplies are not for Legolas in the woods. They are for another group of elves working on a different job,” Faramir said, obviously uncomfortable. “They began the work in the town, but moved it across the river to Ithilien. It was for that reason that it has been given little notice, even though they have been working on it for months now.”

The Steward clearly had more to say, but the words seemed to catch at his throat, refusing to come forth.

“What is it, Faramir?” the king pressed, a little exasperated. “What are the elves working on outside the woods?” 

“Their work is far from the woods, my Lord. It is… on the river.”

Aragorn drew in another deep breath, and his heart clenched as tightly as the hands that gripped the arms of his chair.

The river?

“Aye, my Lord, the river,” Faramir affirmed, and it was only then that Aragorn realized that he had spoken the question aloud.

At Faramir’s words, the king shook his head slowly as he heard a suspicion whisper itself in his mind. He sat staring at his Steward – frozen and numb, knowing what was to come, but not willing to hear it being uttered.

Nay, nay. Say not what I do not wish to hear… he began to plead silently.

“Elessar – I wish I did not have to be the one to bring you this news, but this role has fallen to me, and – though I loathe to do so – I must tell you,” Faramir stated ruefully, almost choking on his words.

No, it cannot be. Do not say it …

But the king’s pleas fell unheeded, cruelly swept away by the wind of despair that carried in the Steward’s news. Faramir’s face was a mask of sympathy as he reluctantly delivered the blow:

“The elves who are working on the river are building a ship, my Lord,” he said in a voice thick with compassion. “It is for their prince Legolas – and it is almost finished.”