Epilogue 2 ~ Family
Morwen glanced once more about the room. Was everything in order? She smiled as strong arms wrapped themselves about her waist from behind. Leaning back against her husband, she sighed deeply.
"You are working yourself too hard," Eradan protested softly, pressing his cheek against the side of her head. "Hirilian will not mind if something is not perfect. She will understand."
"I know," his wife answered, "but you know how I am. I want everything to be right."
"But we will have five children running about the house. Nothing will remain perfect for very long."
"That is true," she admitted, turning to face him, "but I still must do my best."
His kissed her forehead gently. With three children of their own, they had not had much time to themselves. The few moments alone in the guest room were more than welcome, but he knew it could not last.
He smiled wryly as their son Anardil crawled in, his chubby hands and face filthy. Morwen sighed again. "I thought I told them to stay out of that," she complained.
Eradan bent and lifted his son up in his arms. He took one of the child’s hands in his own and studied it. "It looks like soot," he decided at last.
Morwen smiled. "Yes, Eradan, I could have told you that. Look, it is all over him. Could you give him a bath and a change of clothes? I am going to find Artamir. He is probably just as messy."
Eradan kissed her lightly before carrying the two year old from the room. She found her oldest still digging in the bucket of ashes she had neglected to take outside. "Artamir!" she called sternly. The three year old looked guiltily up at her. "Did I not tell you to leave that alone?" He looked down at the bucket full of ashes, then down at his hands.
"I am not that dirty," he defended himself quietly in his small voice.
Morwen glared at him, stifling a grin. The boy’s tunic was covered in the silver and black powder and it coated his entire forearms, not to mention his grubby little face. "Go to Papa," she said, "and wash up. Aunt Hirilian will be here soon."
The child scurried from the room, glad a bath was his only punishment. Meanwhile, Morwen swept up the ashes, once more putting them in the bucket, only this time she carried it outside and left it behind the house. The boys would no doubt find it again before it could be disposed of, but at least it was out of the house.
She waved pleasantly to a neighbor lady before glancing out over the Pelennor field. From the front of their house, it was possible to see most of the great field and it was a view she never tired of, especially in the evening when the sun was setting. But for now, she scanned the field and was delighted to see a small party of riders approaching the city.
She hurried back inside to finish a few last minute things before they arrived. When she could hear the clatter of hooves on stone, she hurried back out the front door.
Hirilian called a greeting as she dismounted and the sisters were soon in one another’s arms, laughing and talking happily. Ceorl dismounted and lifted Éowyn down from her place before him on his saddle. The boys hopped down from their own horse and ran to their Aunt Morwen.
Harding chattered incessantly and Widfara remined happily silent as Morwen pulled them into a loving embrace. Ceorl smiled cheerfully, Éowyn still in his arms, as he, in turn, was embrace tightly. "Where is Eradan?" he asked curiously, kissing his sister-in-law on the cheek.
"Here," Eradan called as he and the boys joined them on the street. He looked rather comical next to the two boys, for they were immaculately clean, their hair still damp, while he was drenched from head to toe.
Nevertheless, Hirilian embraced him affectionately and Harding insisted on being held as Eradan and Ceorl clasped wrists. "Harding!" Hirilian scolded lightly. "You are five years old. You do not need to be held."
"He is fine," Eradan said gently, pushing the lad’s golden hair out of the young face.
Ceorl grinned. "You and Belecthor spoil these children," he said teasingly.
"You are not much better, Ceorl," Hirilian smiled, hooking her arm through her husband’s.
"Please, come in," Morwen said, opening the door. She grimaced as crying came from her bedroom. The noise had awakened Arvegil. She rushed to his bedside and lifted him gently, soothing him and rocking back and forth on her heels.
Hirilian followed her, removing her cloak and hanging it in the hall as she went. "Let me see the young man," she said, approaching her sister. Morwen turned, finally calming the child. "What is his name?" Hirilian asked, gently caressing the small head and its thin covering of soft black hair.
"Arvegil," Morwen answered proudly.
"He is adorable," Hirilian said. "May I?" she asked, holding out her hands.
"Of course," Morwen replied quickly. "He is a very sociable child and does not care who holds him, merely that he is held." She handed him gently to her sister, smiling as the young boy fell once more into a deep, untroubled sleep, gurgling softly.
"Does he sleep this often every day?" Hirilian asked incredulously.
"Yes," Morwen smiled. "He sleeps between feedings, just as did his brothers."
"Mine will not sleep," Hirilian lamented. "Even at night they remain awake for long hours. Where they get their energy is an unsolved mystery." She cradled the newborn gently for a while before looking up at Morwen, a twinkle in her eye. "Have you heard from Belecthor lately?" she asked.
"No, not for a few months. Is anything wrong with him?"
"He has a very unusual illness. Unusual at least for him."
Morwen’s face lit up as she caught her sister’s deeper meaning. "Has it finally happened?" she asked excitedly.
Hirilian nodded, a smile gracing her features. "He met her only this year."
"I heard that they were having trouble in Ithilien this year and Mother came to stay with us for a few months. Has that been resolved?"
"Oh yes, they have finished with that and they are cleaning up the aftermath. It was during all of the trouble that he met her, and they are already betrothed."
Morwen sighed happily. "Dear old Belecthor," she said wistfully, "I never thought it would happen. The way he used to tease us. I told him he would regret that one day, and now I am sure he does. Especially if you know about it, Hirilian," she added, glancing knowingly in her sister’s direction.
"Oh, yes. He came to visit a few weeks ago, and that is when I learned of it. I can assure you that he has heard all of his own words come back to haunt him. He took it well, but I could tell that he regretted every word. So let us not tease the poor boy anymore. After all, he has found a perfectly wonderful lady. If his loving ramblings are anything to go by, she is the most beautiful, the most polite, the most lady-like, the strongest, the most learned, the most loving, the most wonderful lady in all of Ithilien."
The sisters laughed pleasantly, remembering their own foolish ramblings while betrothed. They could only hope Belecthor was as happy in his marriage as they were in theirs. The excitement of married life had not dimmed in the slightest for either of them and their husbands had proved to be everything they ever hoped for.
Morwen smiled and sighed. "You can continue holding him or put him back in his crib," she said, indicating her youngest son, still asleep in Hirilian’s arms, "but I must go get dinner on the fire."
She kissed her baby’s head fondly and left the room. As she passed their husbands, she heard them conversing on their latest campaigns while Widfara listened intently. Harding, Éowyn, Artamir and Anardil played loudly on the floor.
No, she decided, things were not perfect, but they were fine just the way they were.