Further Impressions by Linda Hoyland

The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate
The Dawn of Hope

For all my foresight, it grieves me to see my little girl in pain.

My daughter bears her ordeal with the dignity expected a chieftain’s wife. Only the crushing grip on my hand betrays her agony.

She cries out only when the babe enters the world.

“A fine boy!” exclaims the midwife, “What will you and your lord call him?”

She hands the babe to me while she tends my daughter. Instead of crying, he looks into my eyes. I know then that hope has dawned at last for our people.

Gilraen smiles at her son. ”His name is Aragorn.”


This was written to mark Aragorn's birthday and is inspired by this passage from 'The tale of Aragorn and Arwen."
'But Ivorwen, his wife, who was also foresighted, answered: "The more need of haste! The days are darkening before the storm, and great things are to come. If these two wed now, hope may be born for our people; but if they delay, it will not come while this age lasts."


Darkening Days




The characters are the property of the Tolkien estate.

With thanks to Raksha

One by one, death claimed our friends. First, Éomer and the Hobbits, now Faramir.

Each death seemed to diminish Estel a little, especially Faramir’s.

They were so alike, kindred souls, the last of Númenor.

I saw our Steward, once so vigorous and hearty, slowly fading, until the Doom of Men overcame him.

“I hope I shall depart with the same accepting grace,” my husband tells me, weeping anguished tears. “I too, am growing old.”

Foreboding fills my heart, knowing that Estel must one day follow him. I shall taste the bitterness of mortality with him. Slowly, the days grow darker.


A/N


Faramir died in year 82 of the Fourth Age. Aragorn lived for another 38 years.


The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate

Death of Hope

I always knew this dreaded day would come. Yet nothing could prepare me for it. I pleaded with him to stay, much to my shame. Would it have been easier if I had watched him growing ever weaker, losing everything that made him the man he was? I know not.

He departed with such courage, full of hope, my Estel to his last breath.
Is this the true Gift of Men that more than memories await?

Even in death his glory was not diminished.

I feel half of my spirit departed with him. I am left but a walking shadow.




The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate

Walk no more in Shadows

“Walk no more in shadows, but awake,” I tell him. I sense so many shadows, not all caused by Sauron’s minions.

Those shades reach far back into the past, overshadowing the small child deprived of a mother's love, the restless youth vainly striving for his father’s approval; the darkness of a brother’s deeds and death. Darkest of all is the shadow of the father slain by his own hand, who would have consigned his son to the flames.

Walk no more in shadows cast by others. Awake, O Jewel of Gondor, to walk in the sun at my right hand!


Awakening

Faramir’s eyes open, the clear grey of a true child of Númenor. He resembles me as a son might. His eyes meet mine.

I expect to see confusion in his gaze. Instead, he looks at me with love and recognition, almost as if he expected to see me.

“What does the king command?” he asks me, thus bringing closer my dreams of marriage and heirs.

Love springs between us. Friendship and fealty both, kindled in that instant.

I smile, my heart gladdened to have snatched this prize from Sauron’s grasp.

Gondor has need of this son and so will I.



A/N I could not let March 15th pass without revisiting Aragorn and Faramir in the Houses of Healing.I have already written about them in "First Meeting" and "The One", also on this site, but would recommend Raksha's wonderful "The Falcon and the Star" as essential reading for today. http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Head.php?STid=695

Some phases are taken from "The Return of the King" .Tolkien uses the phase. "Love sprang between them" in an earlier draft, which is published in HOME "The War of the Ring."

With grateful thanks to Raksha for her help with these drabbles.


The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.No profit has been nor will be made from this ficlet.

But when Aragorn arose all that beheld him gazed in silence, for it seemed to them that he was revealed to them now for the first time. Tall as the sea-kings of old, he stood above all that were near; ancient of days he seemed and yet in the flower of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and a light was about him. And then Faramir cried:

‘Behold the King!’ - The Return of the King - J. R.R Tolkien

With thanks to Raksha and Deandra.



Behold the King


The young Steward approaches with the crown; I am taking his place, yet he offers it willingly, his eyes filled with devotion.

I speak the words of my forefather, bringing together past and present.

I take it from him, but do not crown myself. I call rather for Frodo and Gandalf. Today, all are hailing me, but without them there would be no crown to offer. Gondor would lie in ruins under the Dark Lord’s dominion, while I would be dead, or worse, enslaved by him.

For many long years have I longed for today. My dreams, though, will only be fulfilled if Arwen is beside me as my wife and Queen. Dark will be my days if I am doomed to rule alone.

I scan the sea of faces. So many are here and yet so many are not. Would that my mother had lived to see this day! If only Halbarad were here and Théoden King. Their blood bought my triumph dearly.

I kneel before the Wizard in humility. Gandalf places the crown upon my head and speaks a blessing. The crown weighs heavily upon me, reminding me of the many burdens I now bear.

New strength courses through my veins. I feel the burden of my long years of wandering lifted. Today, I am reborn as Elessar, Envinyatar. I show my true face at last, the heir of Elendil, the rightful King in whom the blood of Númenór runs true.

Faramir, his face alight with joy cries aloud, ”Behold the King!” Shouts of acclamation fill the air as trumpets sound.

The sea of smiling faces gladdens my heart. They are my people now. I will protect them as a loving father protects his children.

May the Valar grant me wisdom to rule them with justice and compassion!

A/N This ficlet suddenly jumped into my head to mark the date of Aragorn's coronation


These characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been, nor will be made from this story.

With grateful thanks to Raksha.

The Silver Crown

For long centuries, the Silver Crown had lain in the darkness, waiting for the rightful King to come for it. The old Kings had guarded the crown well throughout the long years of my sires’ Stewardship. The ancient helm shone like a sliver of Ithil, as if Eärnur Last-King had laid it aside but yesterday.

I took up the crown that my longfather Mardil left here for safekeeping. My own father would have known little joy in this task. Would that he had chosen life and hope, however faint, instead of the fire! He might have come to love the King as I do.

The Crown of the Sea-Kings was indeed a great prize. But greater by far was he who would soon claim it to wear as he renewed Gondor. Long had I yearned for the day that was to come on the morrow.

I bore the crown, quickly, anxious to leave the dead in peace. There had been too much death of late. I quickened my steps when I passed the rubble of the House of Stewards.

The tree still lay dead and barren, but hope lived in the City!

Hope had found me at the very end of my strength. I was lost, nearly taken by Shadow. When I first beheld him, I knew that Elendil’s heir, the King I longed for, had come. He restored me. What other hands could hold such healing power? I knew then that I was safe and so too was Gondor.

His hands also recalled Éowyn, the fair Shieldmaiden, from death, to my joy. I pledged her my heart, and she will become my bride.

Now, before the gates of our longfathers’ city, the King smiles and thanks me.

I can only offer him the crown. He gave me life anew.

`For myself,' said Faramir, 'I would see the White Tree in flower again in the courts of the kings, and the Silver Crown return, and Minas Tirith in peace: Minas Anor again as of old, full of light, high and fair, beautiful as a queen among other queens: not a mistress of many slaves, nay, not even a kind mistress of willing slaves. - J.R.R. Tolkien - The Two Towers.

A/N. this is a companion piece to "Behold the King"


Flash of Foresight

The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.


With grateful thanks to Raksha.

“You may see them now, my lord.” Denethor impatiently pushed past the waiting woman to see his wife and new son. He was vaguely disappointed. He already had the heir he needed. A daughter would have been nice; a child he need have no fear of being called upon to sacrifice in Gondor’s endless struggles against the Dark Lord.

Finduilas sat propped in the vast bed, clutching a small bundle, her face almost as white as the sheets. She looked exhausted. Denethor felt a stab of fear. The Healers had warned him she was not strong.

She smiled. “We have a fine boy, my lord. Another jewel for us to cherish. Would you like to hold him?”

Rather reluctantly Denethor took the babe from his wife and studied the tiny creature. Its face looked as wrinkled as an old man’s and was framed by a fuzz of black hair. Altogether, it was small and not too fair to look upon, though Finduilas seemed to think otherwise. Boromir had been a beautiful baby. Almost immediately, the infant began to howl.

With sudden foresight Denethor knew this child was destined to somehow supplant his brother.

Shuddering, he returned him to his mother.

A/N

A companion piece to the New Arrival.I imagine these events taking place a few moments before the events in that ficlet.


The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.

Dedicated to Raksha

The New Arrival

Boromir cautiously approached the bed. His mother was sitting up, gazing adoringly at a shawl wrapped bundle.

“Come, meet your new brother,” said Finduilas. ”Is Faramir not fair?”

“He is very small,” Boromir replied, studying the red, wrinkled face without enthusiasm. “I thought you said I was to have a new playmate?”

“You will have to wait for him to grow,” Finduilas explained.

“I’d rather have a puppy. Puppies are more fun than babies!” Boromir scowled.

Faramir suddenly opened his eyes and looked at his brother, stretching out small chubby arms.

Boromir tentatively extended a finger, which the baby grasped.

“He is strong!” The older boy was impressed.

“He will grown into a big strapping boy, just like you,” said Finduilas smiling. I will need you to help me look after him until then.”

“Yes, mama,” Boromir replied obediently.

Finduilas‘s heart swelled with pride at the sight of her sons together. Her two precious little jewels. How she loved them!

“Promise me you will protect your brother?” She tried to disguise the sudden shiver down her spine.

“I promise.”

“Good boy, now go and play while mama rests.”

“I think I like having a brother!” Boromir skipped away smiling.

A/N The first mention of Faramir's existence as himself was May 6, 1944 in Tolkien's letter to his son Christopher.



Inheritance

With grateful thanks to Raksha.


The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.

The Ring is rightfully mine. By taking it, I would set Frodo free from a burden too great for one so small to bear. Without my aid, the poor hobbit could not even have reached Rivendell.

Once I wield it, none will withstand me. Denethor will yield the rod and I shall be King. I can claim Arwen as my bride. No more waiting; no more hiding in the shadows! Sauron shall be defeated and I will rule over all.

Aragorn started at his own folly. The Ring had betrayed Isildur; it would not claim his heir as victim too.

A/N Inspired by a recent drabble on Tanqui's LJ


The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate

Written for Raksha's Faramir week. With thanks to her.

Tamer of Man and Beast

Éomer was leaving the stables as Aragorn and Faramir approached. The King of Rohan was ruefully rubbing his arm.

“What ails you, my friend?” Aragorn enquired.

“The new colt! Never did I think to encounter a horse I could not tame!”

Faramir approached the stall, whispering softly to the enraged animal. Aragorn and Éomer watched enthralled as the colt gradually calmed. When Faramir offered him an apple, he nuzzled the Steward affectionately.

“Whoever would have believed it?” exclaimed Éomer in astonishment.

Aragorn laughed. “There is more to our Faramir than meets the eye, he can tame both man and beast.

The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been nor will be made from it.



The Honour of the House

“Let us drink toasts!” proposed Éomer. “Let us drink a welcome to our guests!”

“All hail!” The Rohirrim raised their drinking horns.

Aragorn and Faramir smiled their thanks.

“Let us drink to the memory of the Glorious Dead, Théoden King and all our forefathers who fell fighting with honour! All hail”

“All hail!” the assembly echoed with one voice.

Faramir’s cheeks flushed with shame. His father had died an ignominious death unlike the fathers of his companions. Even as Théoden had fallen upon the field, Denethor had ignited his own pyre.

Aragorn’s kindly gaze fell upon him.

Later that evening Éomer sat alone with his guests.

“You have restored the honour of your House,” Aragorn told his Steward.

“I have wrought no great deeds.” Faramir stared fixedly at the fire.

“Who resisted the Ring and helped the Hobbits? Who braved the Nazgûl might? Who gave Gondor into my safekeeping and is rebuilding Ithilien anew? Whose wisdom helps me govern wisely?” Aragorn smiled at his Steward, needing no answers to his questions.

“And who healed my sister’s heart and brought her happiness?” said Éomer. “Why, you of course, Faramir!”

Faramir turned from the fire and faced them, his head held high.

A/N Wishing all my readers in the USA a happy holiday.


Green

The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been ,nor will be made from this story.

To Faramir, the colour green had always been a grim reminder of war. It was after all, the shade of the uniforms that he and his fellow Rangers wore to conceal them from the Enemy. The drabness had mirrored the sorrow in his heart as his father declined and Gondor with him. Each day the Dark Lord’s power had increased. Everything had seemed drained of life and colour by Sauron’s evil power.

Now that drabness had vanished. Each colour seemed brighter and more vibrant. The sky was bluer and unclouded by the fumes of Mordor. It was the green though, that caught Faramir’s eye as he rode across the Pelennor one morning.

Every tree was clothed in its spring finery of fresh green leaves. The birds flew from tree to tree, twittering joyfully as they built their nests. He too would build his own home soon at Emyn Arnen and nest there with his fair lady. Green was her favourite colour, the hue of her people’s banners.

Never before in living memory had the fields been so lush and verdant, promising the most abundant harvest in living memory. It seemed the earth itself was rejoicing at Sauron’s defeat and the coming of the King.

A/N. This was written for the AA List prompt," Green" and also entered in the "Summer in Ithilien" challenge.


No Regrets

The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate

"Do you ever regret?” Aragorn asked Faramir as the two men rode abreast through Faramir’s lands.

“Regret what?” The younger man looked puzzled.

“That you are not Ruling Steward,” said the King.

Faramir laughed aloud. ”How could I, when I have all this?” He gestured around him. Fields once battlegrounds were now covered by waving corn and scarlet poppies. Honeysuckle and wild roses bedecked the hedgerows. Butterflies and bees flitted from flower to flower, blackbirds and thrushes sang sweetly in the treetops. “I have the fairest garden in Gondor to share with my Éowyn. What more could any man want?”

A/N This was written especially for "The Summer in Ithilien " challenge, where it won the drabble section, no great achievment,as there were only 3 entries !


The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.

With thanks to Raksha

Autumn


The days were shortening, the leaves slowly turning red and gold.

He used to dread these days, heralding the hardship of a long northern winter.


No longer did his spirits fall with the tumbling leaves. Cold nights could be spent by a warm fire with his wife and children and the cheerful company of good friends.


Sometimes on summer days, he lamented his loss of freedom to wander in the wilds, feeling sun upon his skin and the wind in his hair.


Curled on cold nights in his wife’s warm embrace, Aragorn Elessar counted the advantages of hearth and home.


A/N You can see an illustrated version of this drabble on my site at http://www1.freewebs.com/lindahoyland/impressions.htm

This was written as a Hobbit Birthday Gift for my friends on LJ on September 15th.

Partners in crime

A Tale of Telcontar

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

With grateful thanks to Raksha

Aragorn grimly surveyed the scene of chaos. The trade agreement on which he had laboured all morning was scattered across the floor, the parchment torn to shreds.

Eldarion’s puppy, Nimrodel stood beside Aragorn's desk, wagging her tail.

Aragorn called a servant and bade her summon his son.

A few minutes later Eldarion arrived. “You wanted to see me, ada?” he asked innocently. “Ah, there is Nimrodel; I could not find her!” The puppy ran to him and licked his hand.

“And how did she come to be in my study?” Aragorn asked severely.

“Um, maybe the door was open,” Eldarion said evasively. He looked down, unable to meet his father’s stern gaze.

“A dog cannot open a closed door,” said Aragorn. “Look at me, Eldarion! There is nought to gain by studying your feet.”

“She must um have um followed me in here. I wanted to look at your model soldiers.” He gestured towards a collection of ornate bejewelled warriors that a visiting envoy had given his father.

“I have told you are not allowed in my study without permission,” said Aragorn. “ Just look at all the damage the pup has done! An important treaty – ruined!”

“Bad, bad dog!” Eldarion shouted at Nimrodel. The puppy whined and her tail drooped between her legs.

“You should not blame her,” Aragorn admonished his son.

“She chewed up your papers,” Eldarion replied, a trifle sulkily.

“Puppies do chew things, it is their nature,” said the King. ”However, if you had not disobeyed me by coming in here, you would not have led Nimrodel into trouble. Take her outside, then return and I will decide best how to punish you.”

“I am sorry, ada.” Eldarion blinked away a tear. He led Nimrodel from the room, his eyes downcast. It was hard to tell whether boy or pup looked guiltier.

Just then Faramir arrived, a parchment tucked under his arm. ”Whatever has happened here?” the Steward asked in dismay.

“Nimrodel decided to chew up the trade treaty with Rhûn,” Aragorn told him.” I had just spent three hours working on it.

“Maybe she is too high-spirited a pup for the Citadel,” Faramir lamented. "I regret not having chosen a quieter pup for the lad, but Nimrodel was the fairest and strongest of the litter."

“We would not be without her, mellon nîn, so do not blame yourself. She is a good-natured creature, just mischievous, as all younglings are. But what brings you here? I thought you were occupied with the City renovations today.”

“I am, but I thought of some new details to add to the treaty.” Faramir spread his parchment on the King’s desk. Aragorn perused it carefully. His features slowly relaxed into a smile.

“This treaty is far better worded than the one Nimrodel chewed!” the King beamed, clapping Faramir on the shoulder affectionately.

A few minutes later, Eldarion returned in a state of growing apprehension. “What is your will, ada?” he asked.

“Do I have your word you will not come in here without permission again?”

“Yes, ada, I promise.”

“I want you to sweep up this mess,” Aragorn said sternly. Then he smiled. ”Later, if you do it well, I will tell you the story of Huan, the greatest hound ever to live."

“Thank you ada!” Eldarion embraced his father then gladly set to work.

Outside in her kennel, as if sensing the young Prince’s relief, Nimrodel wagged her tail.

A/N This is an extended version of a story written for the prompt “Guilty” on the AA Discussion list.

These story stories form part of a collection,"Tales of Telcontar". Thank you to Deandra for suggesting the title.

You can see Nimrodel at

http://www1.freewebs.com/lindahoyland/talesoftelcontar.htm

Morning has broken like the first morning,
blackbird has spoken like the first bird.
Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning!
Praise for them, springing, fresh from the Word! - Eleanor Farjeon (1881–1965)

The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.



With thanks to Raksha

A Tale of Telcontar

Aragorn rose silently from the bed so as not to disturb his sleeping wife. He stood for a moment looking down at her in the pale light of dawn, which streamed through the window.

Her beauty always made him catch his breath. Now with her cheeks slightly flushed with sleep, framed by her flowing dark hair, black against her white nightgown and the pillow, Arwen looked fairer than ever. He was a privileged man indeed to have her to wife. Sometimes, he could hardly believe his good fortune that he was free to awaken every day beside her.

He crept into the adjacent dressing room, almost stubbing his bare toe on the washstand as he did so. Faramir’s home in Ithilien was still relatively unfamiliar to him; as was the freedom it offered to escape briefly from his royal duties.

Quickly, he splashed water on his hands and face then changed out of his night attire, donning his oldest riding clothes. He paused to kiss his wife lightly on the cheek. Arwen stirred slightly, smiling in her sleep. Aragorn tiptoed softly from the room.

The kitchen was already a hive of activity. A young maidservant brought a mug of ale and a plate of bread and cheese at his request, looking only slightly surprised when he elected to sit and eat it at the kitchen table.

A few minutes later Éowyn appeared, accompanied by a bleary- eyed Faramir. The servants seemed accustomed to seeing their lady at this hour, less so their lord. Aragorn rose to embrace his friends.

“I often ride at dawn, unlike my sleepy husband,” said Éowyn, taking a bite of crusty bread, still warm from the oven. “I breakfast here in the kitchen as I did in Meduseld. It is the warmest place to be at dawn.”

“It promises to be another hot day,” said Aragorn. ”I am glad we are riding before the sun is too high in the sky.”

”A pity the Queen does not wish to join us,” Faramir lamented. ”She has told me she loves the countryside.”

“My beloved Undómiel prefers the evening,” said the King. ”She will just about be ready to eat breakfast when we return. I hope to ride with her under the stars one night while we are here.”

“It will be evening today ere we set out if we do not hurry,” said Éowyn, tapping her foot impatiently, having already finished her makeshift breakfast.

The three friends made their way to the stables, where dismissing the grooms, they saddled their own mounts.

They rode across the lush countryside, east into the sunrise. Like a blood red ruby, the sun crept above the horizon painting the sky in glorious hues of pink and mauve. The dew sparkled on the grass and the air felt fresh and sweet.

The breeze blew Aragorn’s hair behind him as he rode. He laughed out loud for sheer joy. On a morning such as this, the ranger in him could leave the King's cares behind and take pleasure in the bright clear dawn, if only for a little while. It was enough.

A/N This is an extended version of a story written for the prompt “Morning” on the AA Discussion list.

These stories form part of a collection, "Tales of Telcontar". Thank you to Deandra for suggesting the title.

Let Sleeping Kings Lie

The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate

With thanks to Raksha, Deandra and Julia

Released early from his lessons because his tutor was unwell, a bored Eldarion made his way to his father’s study. Ada had said he was working on some dull but important documents.Maybe he could be persuaded, instead, to play a game for a little while, with the collection of model soldiers that Eldarion so liked. The brightly coloured and bejewelled models, a gift from a visiting ambassador, held a great fascination for the young prince. Ada had confided in him that playing with model soldiers was much more fun than working even when you were very old, as his father undoubtedly was.

Eldarion passed the guard at the end of the corridor, who smiled and greeted him.

The boy tapped on the door of the study, but received no reply. Strange, for he was certain ada was planning to spend all afternoon working there. He listened carefully. A strange and raucous sound suddenly emanated from the room.

Although he was forbidden to enter without permission, Eldarion opened the door.

Aragorn was slumped back in his chair with his mouth wide open, snoring loudly, his papers scattered around him.

Eldarion was about to creep quietly away when his little sister, having escaped the care of her nurse, toddled past him through the open door and ran to her father. She was clutching a doll almost as big as herself.

“Ada, look at my dolly, she has a pretty pink bonnet and shawl!” Farawyn cried. (

Aragorn’s only reply was an especially loud snore, which made both children jump.

“What is wrong with ada?” Farawyn asked, her lower lip trembling.

“He is just asleep,” her brother replied. “We must not wake him or he might be cross with us as we are not supposed to be in here.”

“I will leave dolly’s new bonnet and shawl for him to see,” said Farawyn. “They will keep him warm. Naneth says people get cold if they fall asleep without a cover over them.”

The children tiptoed from the room, quietly closing the door behind them.

***

A little later, the Queen went in search of her husband. “Will you have tea with me, my love?” she asked brightly as she entered the room. She then caught sight of Aragorn and burst out laughing. Stifling her mirth, she hurried off in the direction of Faramir’s study.

The Steward was engrossed in a document on grain tariffs when Arwen entered his room.

“Faramir, you must come with me at once to Estel!” Arwen demanded.

“My lady! Is the King unwell?” Faramir asked anxiously, springing to his feet.

“No, nothing is wrong. I just want you to come and see him,” Arwen replied laughing at the very thought of what she had just witnessed.

Queen and Steward made their way to the King’s study, where they both stood, shaking with mirth.

“I wonder how many flies he has caught? Or has the colour of that shawl frightened them away?” Arwen giggled.

“We should wake him,” said Faramir. ”What if the servants come in?”

“Dolly is cold and wants her bonnet and shawl back!” announced the Farawyn, running into the room.

“Lady Farawyn, come here!” called the little girl’s nurse from along the corridor.

Arwen rushed out and called to the servant. “I will look after my daughter now. You may go Miriel.”

“Yes, my lady,” said the nurse curtsying. She disappeared in the direction from which she had come.

Arwen returned to the study just in time to see her daughter remove the doll's frilly bonnet from Aragorn’s head and bright pink shawl from his chest. The little girl then kissed her father.

Aragorn blinked and open his eyes. ”What is the matter?” he asked a trifle tetchily.

“You were snoring when I came to ask you if you would take tea with me,” said Arwen sweetly. “Faramir is invited too.”

“I do not snore!” said the King. “Ada does not snore, Farawyn.”

“Dolly snores then, “said Farawyn wrapping the pink shawl around her plaything.

Unable to feel out of sorts any longer, Aragorn picked up his little daughter and hugged her. "Bring dolly to tea, there might be some of her favourite cakes to eat," Aragorn said smiling.

"Girls!" snorted Eldarion.

Queen and Steward smiled at each other. The afternoon’s entertainment had been most amusing.

A/N This is an extended version of a story written for the prompt “Entertainment” on the AA Discussion list.

In my long stories, Aragorn is notorious for his snoring.

Tolkien said Aragorn had daughters but did not name them; Farawyn’s name is my invention.

These stories form part of a collection, "Tales of Telcontar". Thank you to Deandra for suggesting the title.