These Characters are the property of the Estate of J. R. R Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story has been written for pleasure and no profit has or will be made from it.

Fathers and Mothers

Faramir awoke feeling safe, warm and comfortable, a strange and delightful feeling still, after two months of fear and agony. It was bliss to no longer wake with a pounding heart, pain everywhere and struggling to breathe. Even worse, had been the feeling that he was tainted and had betrayed all those he loved. Having been finally relieved of his burden filled the Steward with a wonderful sense of freedom and peace.

For a moment, he felt disorientated, thinking he was still in the hovel with Aragorn beside him. Then he realised he was back in Minas Tirith and in Aragorn’s room.

The winter sun streamed though a chink in the curtains illuminating the King’s face. Aragorn still looked somewhat drawn and weary and with his eyes closed, bore a closer resemblance than usual to Faramir’s own father.

Faramir recalled the previous day with amazement. He was a father now! He must have spoken the wondrous words aloud, for Aragorn yawned, stretched and slowly sat up.

“Is it not amazing to be a father?” Faramir exclaimed.

“Indeed it is!” Aragorn grinned, “I grow to love my son more each day, which reminds me, you have not met him yet!”

Faramir flushed, “I am so sorry, I regret now, that I did not accept the Queen’s offer to bring your son to show me.”

“I hope you can meet him today,” Aragorn said good humouredly, climbing from the bed rather stiffly and realising he was still fully clothed. He had been so tired the night before that he remembered nothing after giving Faramir his herbs and helping him on to the bed

“When can I see my daughter and Éowyn?” Faramir asked.

“When you have bathed, allowed me to treat your hurts and changed into clean clothes and had some breakfast. Then Arwen and Ioreth need time to tend to them both first,” Aragorn told him.

Faramir looked somewhat crestfallen.

“At least you do not have to parade your daughter in front of a heartless throng of nobles who treat a baby like prize horseflesh!” the King said dryly, “Not that I will permit that to happen to any future child of mine!”

Faramir suddenly looked worried, “Will the circumstances of her birth, mean Elestelle is not regarded as my heir?” he asked anxiously.

Aragorn shook his head. “While you were unwell, I had the law amended so that the presence of a Royal representative at the birth of your heirs confers legitimacy while the presence of a representative from the House of Stewards confers legitimacy on my future heirs. Of course, I intended Arwen as your witness, but I should serve well enough! Now can you ask a servant to bring you some clean clothes and breakfast for us both?”

He disappeared into the bathing chamber as he spoke.

**

Éowyn awoke to the sound of a crying baby. For a moment, she thought it was Eldarion before realising it was her own child.

Arwen was sitting on the rocking chair beside the bed cuddling her son, whom she had apparently just finished nursing. She rose to her feet and smiled at Éowyn, replaced Eldarion in his cradle then picked up Elestelle and brought her to her mother. “She is hungry,” the Queen said. “You must try to feed her.”

“You know I cannot!” Éowyn said, reluctant to take her child. The infant looked so fragile and her features were red and contorted with crying.

“You must try!" Arwen said, in a tone that brokered no argument, “I will not let her go hungry, but you must try first.”

As Éowyn made no move to unlace her nightgown, Arwen did it for her and placed Elestelle in the correct position to nurse. The baby bawled all the louder and seemed quite unable to latch on. Éowyn stiffened and tears pricked behind her eyes.

“Take her away!” she demanded. “She does not even like me!”

“She senses your unease and is hungry. That is all.” Arwen calmly took Elestelle over to the rocking chair and soothed her before offering her own breast. At once the baby started to suckle contentedly.

Éowyn felt oddly detached. This child hardly seemed to be hers at all. She and Faramir might have conceived her and she had carried her for eight months, but it was Aragorn who had given her life while Arwen was nourishing her. Surely it would have been better had she been born to them?

Ioreth’s arrival a little later did little to raise her spirits. Although the midwife pronounced her to be in excellent health, Éowyn could see the disappointment in her eyes that she had failed to carry her child to full term. Ioreth was at least much kinder today and refrained from scolding.

Aragorn and Faramir arrived soon after Ioreth’s departure, by which time Éowyn was dressed in one of Arwen’s loose robes. On the Queen’s instructions, she was watching while the nanny bathed her daughter.

Aragorn intended to spend a precious hour with his wife and child before applying himself to the growing mountain of paperwork that awaited him.  Now that Faramir was now eager to help though, the task would be far less onerous today.

While Elestelle was being bathed, Aragorn took Faramir to show him his son.

Eldarion gurgled happily to see his father and smiled when he lifted him out of his cradle.

“My Prince! It gladdens my heart to meet you!” Faramir said formally kissing the tiny hand and bowing.” I am your most loyal subject!”

Eldarion frowned, obviously puzzled by this stranger who looked rather like his Ada but behaved so oddly.

Aragorn laughed, though not unkindly,” I think he would prefer a less formal greeting!” he grinned, “He is after all only two months old.”

Faramir kissed the baby’s dark head and offered a finger to be grasped. He was rewarded by a beaming smile from the young prince. “He is adorable!” Faramir exclaimed. “Though, I think my daughter prettier!”

“You are her father, so you ought!” Aragorn retorted, as he retired with his son to Arwen's sitting room.

Arwen and Éowyn emerged a few moments later, the latter looking pale and distressed after watching her child being bathed and dressed. Minus her clothing, Elestelle looked more tiny and frail than ever and she could not help but compare her to Eldarion when he was born, who had been so plump and robust looking.

“How are you today, my love?” Faramir greeted her.

“I am well,” Éowyn said flatly.

“Do sit down, Faramir! Would you like to see your daughter?” Arwen asked.

“Yes please, my lady!” Faramir hobbled over to the couch and sat down with his wife beside him.

Arwen brought the now clothed, and very sleepy Elestelle and placed her in Faramir’s arms, the opposite side from his damaged ribs. She then excused herself and went to join her husband and son.

Faramir felt overwhelmed with love towards this tiny daughter of his. It seemed that she sensed it as she gurgled contentedly, nestling against his chest. Tenderly, he caressed her soft downy head and tiny hands. “She is just perfect and so beautiful,” he breathed, swearing inwardly to love her unconditionally as long as he lived.

“She is too small,” was Éowyn’s only reply.

**

Three days passed and Faramir’s health continued to improve, though Aragorn was still worried by the scar tissue in his belly. The Steward obediently accepted the Elven healing treatments as well as taking herbs to aid his recovery. He continued to limp, as the King had not considered a sprained ankle serious enough to concentrate his energies on. It served too, to prevent him from overexerting himself while his heart strengthened.

Faramir was still sharing Aragorn’s room and helping the King with State papers, but proving a most attentive father and husband to his wife and child whenever he could.

Éowyn was becoming more distressed by the day. She was still unable to feed her daughter and hardly seemed to be able to endure the sight of her, despite Arwen’s insistence that she keep trying to nurse her and help bathe and dress her.

Late that night when both Éowyn and Faramir were sleeping, Arwen summoned her husband to come and see if he could help Éowyn.

How is she?” he asked, moving to stand by her bedside, “Faramir is worried about her and was relieved when I told him I was coming.”

“Éowyn is dejected and very tense. I have tried every art I know,” Arwen sighed, “I am certain she does have milk for her child, but is too overwrought to feed her, I only wish I had your healing abilities! She is in pain and rejecting her child! I think the events of the past months have finally caught up with her. Could you do something?”

“Does she desire to be healed?” Aragorn asked.

“I believe so, though she is consumed with guilt at her failure to bring the child to full term and to nourish her. I believe her brother's lack of interest in the child distresses her too as they are very close. She wishes she had never written the letter to him.”

Aragorn looked down at his friend’s wife sadly. “I am no expert in women’s ills but I will do what I can,” he promised. He gently stroked Éowyn’s eyelids, sending her into a deep healing sleep, thankful now that his strength and healing abilities were fully restored after a few days of relative calm.

“I should be able to ease her while she sleeps,” Aragorn said. “I think it should work through her clothing, but it would be best if you removed the blankets.”

Arwen pulled back the heavy coverlet and blankets, leaving Éowyn covered by just her nightgown and a thin linen sheet. She watched as Aragorn sat on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes and held his hands a few inches above Éowyn’s body.

It never failed to amaze her that her husband, a mortal, had such powerful healing abilities. Usually only the Eldar possessed such gifts. Her father had taught Estel to use his innate abilities, which now he was King seemed to have grown even stronger. It was maybe his uniqueness that had first attracted her towards him. Here was a rare treasure amongst men.

Éowyn sighed, then smiled in her sleep, but did not awaken while the King massaged her neck and the upper part of her shoulders. He gestured to his wife to replace the blankets and then placed both hands on Éowyn’s golden head in blessing before doing the same for Elestelle.

“May the Valar protect them both? I have done all that I can,” he told Arwen, “I sense that she feels guilt over Faramir’s misfortunes too.”

“How is he now?” Arwen asked.

“Growing stronger by the day, though he has some scar tissue inside which worries me. I fear it may have to be cut out,” Aragorn told her. “I am the only one with the skill to do it, but the thought of cutting him appals me!”

“You are thinking too much like a man!” Arwen chided, “Although the Elven treatments for such hurts are painful, we are too civilised for such butchery!”

“I only hope you are right,” Aragorn sighed.

“You need to rest. Healing always drains you,” she said, as they exchanged a loving and lingering goodnight kiss, “Be sure to at least take off your boots, before you go to sleep!”

As soon as her husband had left, Arwen settled down beside Éowyn.  She was convinced her friend looked better already. She could only wait for morning to see if Aragorn had managed to work another healing miracle or not.

TBC