Young Pilin, one of the newly-appointed pages of the King, ran
swiftly through the market, heedless of the shopkeepers who called
out to him to slow down lest he upset one of the carts. Like
the arrow for which he was named, he sped unerringly to where he
had been told the King would be found – at the site of the large,
sunken garden the Dwarves had begun excavating in the Fifth
Circle.
He rounded the last corner and spotted the King, consulting with
Lord Gimli. The Dwarf, whose beard was full of sparkling dust from
a piece of ornamental stone he was crafting, was gesturing with
one hand while effortlessly holding in the other an enormous
hammer.
“A message from the Queen, my liege!” the boy gasped, coming to a
halt before his sovereign.
Elessar turned to the boy. “Catch your breath, lad,” he said
kindly. “What words do you bring from my Lady?”
“The wagons from the north that arrived this morning have brought
packages and letters from the Shire,” the boy told him. “They have
been delivered to the Queen, who asks that you and Lord Gimli join
her for the noon meal.”
The King smiled happily. “We will gladly do so. Thank you, Pilin.”
Every time the boy heard the King speak his name, Pilin's eyes
glowed with joy. Many were the tales sung or spoken of the War of
the Ring, and he never forgot his great fortune to have been born
in this Age of peace, serving a king who cared for every subject
equally.
“Here, lad,” Aragorn said, handing the boy a coin from a pouch at
his waist. “Bearing messages, especially at the speed at which you
do so, is hungry work. After you relay my response to the Queen,
you may stop for second breakfast before returning to your post.”
“Thank you, Sire,” Pilin grinned, looking forward to a visit to The
Ithil Inn. Every child enjoyed hearing stories about
hobbits and their love of meals, and introducing the concept of
‘second breakfast’ to the City was one of the many ways King
Elessar honored their traditions.
He bowed low to the King, then to Gimli, before racing back
towards the Citadel.
“You spoil those lads, Aragorn,” Gimli said with a chuckle.
“Perhaps,” Elessar said. “But pages like Pilin, who work hard and
take their duties quite seriously, should be encouraged. I can
scarcely let the lad starve.”
“Hah!” Gimli chortled, tossing aside the hammer and shaking out
his beard. “The day someone goes hungry in your kingdom, I’ll wake
up with the furred feet of a hobbit.”
Elessar instinctively glanced down at Gimli’s boots, wondering
idly what Dwarf feet did look like, before clapping his
friend on the shoulder.
“Come, let us return to the Citadel. I look forward to
seeing what our friends have sent us! I’ve grown quite fond of
receiving gifts for their birthdays; Sam’s was just last month, I
believe.”
“Parcels are arriving much more quickly now that the roads have
been seen to,” Gimli said approvingly. “My journey north with my
kinfolk should be a smooth one.”
“The way is not short, but every mile will bring you closer to
our dear friends in the Shire,” Elessar said wistfully. “I envy
you your visit with them, Gimli. Never again will I see that fair
land, save from afar in the Seeing Stone. But you will be my eyes
and my emissary, and bring the hobbits as many gifts as your cart
can bear.”
“They know you love them, Aragorn,” Gimli said quietly. “There is
no greater gift.”
~*~
When Elessar and Gimli strode into the small dining chamber
favored by Arwen, they found her standing at one of the broad,
west-facing windows which afforded such a striking view of Mount
Mindolluin. She was turned away from them, holding the pages of
what appeared to be a letter. Nearby, the lid of a large crate had
been pried open to reveal a number of parcels of various sizes,
all carefully padded to prevent breakage. When Arwen turned
towards them, the smile on her husband’s face died when he saw her
troubled look. His heart clenched with fear as he strode to her
side.
“What is it, beloved?” he asked, gazing down at the pages in her
hand. “Is is Frodo? Has he--”
“Oh Estel, forgive me,” Arwen said, instantly perceiving the
source of his distress. “Frodo is well. All of our friends are
well. I did not mean to frighten you.”
Elessar sighed with relief as Arwen embraced him, drawing comfort,
as always, from her touch. Someday, he knew, news from the Shire
would bear sad tidings, but… not now. Not yet.
Gimli stood in the doorway, and the Queen gestured him forward.
“Come in, Gimli,” she said warmly. “Everything is all right. Let
us dine, after which you and Estel can both read Sam’s letter. He
sends greetings for you, as well.”
“I will join you after I wash my hands and brush out my beard,
Lady,” Gimli said, eyeing with delight the table laden with food.
“And if there is any of that fine ale about the place, I will
thank you!”
~*~
Luncheon finished, Elessar sat reading quietly. He reached the last page of the letter Sam had sent, full of news of the Shire, Bag End, Frodo, and the many children of whom he and Rose were very proud. He looked up at Gimli with a smile.
“Take this letter with you to your chamber when you leave,” he
said. “Reading it will bring you pleasure. The hobbits are
greatly anticipating your visit, my friend.” He turned to Arwen.
“What did you read that caused you distress?”
“You will think me silly,” Arwen said, a bit embarrassed. “The
third page, here. Read this part again.”
Elessar read, out loud this time, the passage to which she was
pointing.
You asked to hear more about Frodo-lad, and whether it’s been hard on him to grow up with Frodo’s name. You needn't worry as he seems quite proud of it, and that’s a fact. You last saw him when you visited the lake, when he was but 13, and with all the excitement of the Ice Men and their big dogs, and Elanor being honored by Queen Arwen and all, you may not have been able to spend much time getting to know him.
He’s a remarkable lad – well, ‘lad’ in name only now, as he comes of age this summer! – and different from his brothers and sisters. He’s grown to be quiet and serious-like, never one to tattle or tell secrets when trusted with them. He took to book learning like Frodo and Mr. Bilbo did, and has read over and over the tale of our adventures. In particular, he can never hear enough about what I’ve always called Elvish magic, if Queen Arwen will forgive that expression. He asks endless questions I can scarcely answer about swords that glow, trees that shine of their own light, and especially Lady Galadriel’s star-glass, which absolutely fascinates him every time Frodo lets him hold it. He’s spent many hours trying to figure out how anyone could capture the light of a star in that glass, and a few years ago he even set in one of our gardens a basin such as the Lady had that she called her Mirror. Now don’t think by what I’m saying that Frodo-lad’s lost in fantasy thoughts or neglects his chores, or isn’t the kindest and most considerate child two parents could ask for. It’s just that I think he finds the Shire rather lacking in the magic he reads about, and wishes he could do something about it. Can you imagine a hobbit thinking about things like that?He’s been seeing a good deal of a charming lass named Hollyhock Burrows, and if things go as we think they might, another wedding could be coming up in a year or so. Gimli will meet her when he visits. The children are so excited that Uncle Gimli’s coming! I wrote him to prepare to be surrounded by pups everywhere he goes, as they’re as numerous on the Row as dragon gold in a hoard. Every single one can be traced back to dear Scamp, who I know you remember with great fondness. We'll try to keep them all out of Gimli's room so he can get some rest after his long trip...
Elessar stopped reading and looked up to see Gimli grinning, but when he glanced at his wife, Arwen had that same pensive look as when they had first seen her at the window.
“I sense no ill news here,” Elessar said. “Help me to understand what troubles you.”
“It is a wonderful letter, full of happiness and a father’s pride in his children,” Arwen agreed, “and yet... it strikes me how much more I could have learned from Grandmother during all my years living in her realm. Would it not have been a wonderful thing for us to gift young Frodo with a phial of starlight of his own? He seems to desire one so. I regret that I have not the skill to craft such a thing.”
Elessar frowned. “I would not have you feel discontented, my love. Your gifts are more numerous than I could name. Remember that Galadriel learned wisdom and lore during her time with Melian, one of the Maiar, and bore the Elven Ring of Water in its full potency to aid in her endeavors.”top