Pink

Aragorn looked up from the report he was reading. It was a more leisurely morning for the King and Queen. They had just finished a nice breakfast and were now left to have some time to themselves.  But something was terribly wrong. Very, very wrong.

Aragorn flicked his gaze around the room as he tried to figure out the missing piece of the puzzle as the dread continued to grow. Arwen was deeply engrossed in her embroidery. No, that wasn’t it at all. It was so quiet. Then suddenly it dawned upon Aragorn. It was indeed quiet, too quiet. He had not heard the pitter patter of small feet for some time. That couldn’t be good at all, or so Aragorn came to quickly learn once he had a child old enough to get into things.

“Where is Miriel?” Aragorn put down the report as he enquired of his youngest daughter’s whereabouts. Arwen looked up momentarily while she continued to form the decorative stitch upon the silk canvas.

“I believe she’s with her nurse. Why do you ask, Estel?”

“Because it’s too quiet.” Aragorn commented, his hand reaching out for the handle. He opened the door to see both Miriel’s nurse and his eldest daughter, Elarinya, coming from opposite ends of the hallway.

“We can’t find Miriel anywhere!” Elarinya exclaimed as she neared her father. The King sighed and exited the room. Miriel didn’t often disappear from her nurse’s supervision, but it had happened a couple times before. The young child would be quick to offer to help out the servants, which was endearing. But the child couldn’t quite yet tell the difference between helping and getting underfoot.

The three turned the house upside down in a search for the missing Princess. Aragorn carefully tried to recall the last places Miriel had gotten off to She wasn’t in the kitchens, nor was she in the libraries. Aragorn was about to give up and go back for more reinforcements when he overheard a servant call out to another.

“I can’t find those garments anywhere. The Queen wanted them dyed for the King before she embroidered them. But now they’ve seemed to have grown legs and walked off.”

“Have you searched the dye house? Maybe someone took them there for you already.” The other servant suggested.

That sense of dread returned as Aragorn bolted for the dye house. It just had to be the last place they hadn’t searched for Miriel. As he entered, Aragorn could hear that unmistakable singing voice coming from one of the rooms. The King’s face went wide with horror once he entered the room to see Miriel bent over a tub of brilliant pink dye. The girl’s arms were colored all the way up to her shoulders, and her dress was splattered with vivid pink splotches. Aragorn was utterly speechless. The admonishment was there, but his mouth just wouldn’t form the words.

If Miriel had any suspicions that she was in trouble, she clearly paid them no mind. Instead the four year old child smiled broadly at her father while she held up the tunic she held in the dye bath.

“Look Ada, I made them pretty!”

Aragorn stood there open mouthed, with an expression of horror on his face. Miriel had successfully turned every single one of the white garments in the room a bright, attention grabbing, shade of pink. All of his new tunics, nightshirts, and undergarments were turned vivid pink.

“What……How……Why?” Aragorn managed to stammer as he tried in vain to form real sentences. The shock prevented him from speaking properly.

“They were boring white, so I made them pretty for you, Ada! See, they’re all pretty now! Pink is better than white!”

Aragorn could not have looked more shocked or afraid had he found all nine of the Nazgul within the room. No, this was a fate far worse than encountering a Ringwraith. Miriel had even managed to dye a new cloak the fierce, nearly blinding shade. That would be all he needed was to lead his men into battle while his bright pink cloak flowed in the breeze behind him. No doubt he would be far more visible to Orcs and enemies alike! Yes, that would surely raise the confidence of the people to see their King brandishing Anduril while wearing his new pink wardrobe. Nothing said “Fear the wrath of the King.” Like bright pink.

By then Arwen and Elarinya had caught up to Aragorn. Arwen gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth, while Elarinya did her best to stifle a giggle. Aragorn sighed and knelt down to Miriel’s height.

“I know you mean well, sell nín. But it was very naughty for you to have run off. We’ve spoken about this before.”

Miriel frowned once she noticed the stern look upon her father’s face. Her lower lip began to tremble. “I’m sorry Ada, I just wanted to help!”

Aragorn allowed his expression to soften slightly. “I understand, but we were very worried about you because we couldn’t find you. If you had been hurt, none of us would have been able to come help you until we found you.”

Miriel nodded slowly as she bowed her head. Aragorn dropped a kiss upon the top of his daughter’s dark hair. “I know you want to help, sell nín. And that is a good quality you should never lose. But you must promise your Naneth and I that you won’t run off anymore without telling your nurse where you are going. We are glad to let you help with things, but it is best if you ask how you can help first.”

Miriel managed a small smile before Arwen came forward to collect her. No doubt Miriel would have to serve some sort of appropriate punishment. As much as Aragorn was horrified of the pink clothing, he knew his daughter meant well. In the end, it was only clothing, and clothing could easily be replaced or dyed another color. Aragorn took one last look at the pink wares and shuddered. He would certainly have to have a talk with Miriel about what were appropriate or “pretty” colors for Ada, and which weren’t. Pink was surely not one of them!

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Arwen was laying in bed reading as she waited for her husband to come join her. Aragorn appeared weary from meetings and looking over reports. She watched while he made his way to the wardrobe and jumped back in shock. Somehow the pink clothing had found its way into the King’s wardrobe. Aragorn backed away from the offending garments as if he expected them to attack at any moment. Arwen could not help but giggle softly behind her book. Something told her both she and her Estel would remember this mishap for years to come. Hopefully Miriel had learned her lesson about “trying to make things pretty for Ada.”

Aragorn scowled before he unfolded one of the pink nightshirts from the wardrobe shelf. He would resign to his fate for tonight, but only for tonight, and the servants better not say a single word about it either, or there would be hell to pay.

“No one could ever rightfully say I do not adore my daughters now.” Aragorn muttered as he finished pulling on the nightshirt.

Arwen giggled again, bringing forth another scowl from her husband. He did look pretty miserable in his new bright pink nightshirt. No, Arwen would never forget this sight for as long as she lived!

“Don’t you dare speak of this to anyone.” Aragorn teased as he made his way for the bed. Once he was under the covers he wouldn’t have to look at the atrocious color anymore.

“I won’t breathe a word of it.” Arwen said with mirth in her gentle voice. She couldn’t take it any longer. As humorous as it looked to see her Estel wearing their daughter’s handiwork, she felt sorry for him now. Arwen got up from the bed and went to one of her drawers. A wide smile came to Aragorn’s face when he saw his wife hold up a white, untouched, nightshirt.  The King sprang up from the bed, and covered Arwen’s face with grateful kisses. The pink nightshirt was quickly discarded and tossed into a corner to hopefully be forgotten forever as the white one was donned.

“I always keep a few spares, just in case.” Arwen smirked. “One cannot be too careful with a young child afoot. I will have Miriel help me to dye the pink garments to a darker color. She seems eager to learn how to make things and assist, so it would be good for her to learn the proper way.”

Aragorn smiled. Once more, he was eternally thankful for having married such a wise and patient maiden. The couple settled in for the night. But just as Aragorn was about to drift off to sleep, Arwen leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Just be thankful Miriel didn’t get a hold of the new banners for the Citadel!”