Henneth Annûn Story Archive

          Aragorn raised his head from the mattress, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He had fallen asleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning waiting for Laeriel to wake up. He looked at her as he sat back in the chair. She was still sleeping and the sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting a pale yellow glow in the room.

          It had been hours since he had come to the Houses of Healing. Hours since his fight with Arwen. Arwen. How could she have kept this information from him for the two hours it had taken to explain to her who Laeriel was and what she had meant to him? He could understand her need to know the truth and he should have told her about Laeriel years ago. But what he didn't understand was how she could keep Laeriel's condition from him, when he was needed to help save her life?

          Maybe she hadn't known who Laeriel was when she was brought to the healing halls, but then that was even worse. She had kept him from a woman that needed his healing skills. Confused, he ran his hand over his eyes and sighed.

          "Sire? How is she this morning?" asked Dame Ioreth as she brought a tray for the King.

          "She's sleeping," he said softly. "I expect she will sleep for some time yet. Would you bring some fresh athelas and some hot water?"

          Dame Ioreth dipped into a quick curtsey and left to retrieve the items he wanted. After she left, Aragorn poured himself a cup of hot tea and sipped on it slowly. As the hot liquid scalded his tongue, he remembered the day they returned to the north village.

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          Strider walked beside Laeriel, dressed in her Thurin disguise, into the village. The first person he saw was Halbarad, heading toward him.

          "Halbarad! It's good to see you."

          "Strider! You look good, my friend. The time you spent at home seems to have restored you."

          "I am well rested. What's been happening around here? There has been no news since we left Rivendell."

          "The council has voted to allow the women to train. We've had a lot of skirmishes in the area and some of the men have been killed."

          "Who have we lost?" Strider asked, concerned.

          "Aloet, Loston and Huor were killed just three weeks ago. Ivorwen petitioned the council to allow some of the women to learn to defend themselves. She believes that the women deserve the right to protect their lives and their families."

          "My grandmother is a very smart woman," Strider said, glancing at Thurin.

          "She wanted to know as soon as you got back. She wants to speak to you."

           "Do you know where she is?"

           "Last I saw her, she was at the well, gathering some water. I am sure you will be able to find her at home."

          Strider nodded and watched as Halbarad headed toward his own home, where Cristiel would be waiting. He turned to Thurin and winked. "Want to go see my grandmother with me? I am sure she would be happy to see you."

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          Ivorwen smiled as Strider and Thurin came into the kitchen where she was making bread. "I am so glad you are home!" she cried as she threw her floured hands around Strider's neck.

          "I hear you have been busy, grandmother."

          "I have," she said with a smile. "And I think this will solve your problem, Thurin."

          "My problem?" Thurin asked.

           Ivorwen rolled her eyes. "Yes…we all know what that is. I don't think we need to spell it out, do you? Now, if I know my grandson, he will want to go have a look around the area for himself, now that he's back. I suppose he won't go alone, since the two of you are joined at the hip, so to speak. Now, wouldn't it be a wonder if Thurin's sister were to turn up alive after all this time?"

          Strider raised an eyebrow at his grandmother and shook his head. She had it all worked out. And it could actually work now that the council had allowed the women to learn sword training.

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          Laeriel paced the small cottage she called home and fought the urge to scream. They had been over this absurd proposal that Ivorwen had brought up over and over. It wouldn't work, she knew that, why couldn't Strider understand.

          "It will work. You are just scared. You have lived this life too long. It's time to be the woman you are supposed to be," he reasoned.

          "And who is that? What if the council changes its mind? I can't go back to being Thurin if he gets killed."

          "Laeriel…I want you to be Laeriel. I want you to be my wife. I want to be able to love you openly. Sneaking around all these years has been exhilarating, but I want to settle down. I want to have a family, with you."

          Tears pooled in her blue eyes and slipped down over her cheeks. Silently she nodded and stepped into his open arms.

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          They left the village three days later and were gone for over a month. Ivorwen fretted every day wondering if Thurin was actually going to go through with her plan or not. She knew this was a huge step for Laeriel, but she really liked the woman and she wanted to see her happy. And if that meant giving up her Thurin persona, then so be it. Besides, Strider loved her and they couldn't be together if Laeriel kept up her Thurin disguise.

          Ivorwen grabbed the water bucket, heading to the well early. There was snow on the ground and she was sure there would be ice on the water. She tugged her shawl closer about her shoulders and trudged through the snow to the center of the village.

           She tossed the bucket that hung above the well in, and groaned when it bounced off the ice at the bottom. Slowly, she pulled the bucket back up. She was afraid the ice would be thick this early in the morning. She looked around and found a couple of large stones. Placing them in the bucket, Ivorwen tossed the bucket back into the well. With a satisfying crunch, it broke through the ice. She groaned again, trying to pull the bucket back up full of rocks and water.

          "Let me…"

          "Strider?"

          "Good morning, Grandmother," he said, easily pulling the bucket at the end of the rope to the top of the well.

           Ivorwen threw her arms around his neck, nearly causing him to drop the rope and the bucket of water. "Your home! So, how'd it go?"

           "Everything is fine. There is someone I want you to meet."

          They headed back to Ivorwen's house and a warm kitchen, where a woman with shoulder length auburn hair waited. She was wearing a long skirt and a heavy jerkin over her shirt to ward off the cold. When she turned to face them, Ivorwen smiled widely.

           "Laeriel…you look wonderful," she said, wrapping her arms around the young woman. "So, have you seen Halbarad or any of the members of the council yet?" she asked the couple.

          "Not yet. We came here first."

          "I am glad you heeded my advice, Laeriel."

          "I think it was time to allow Thurin to rest in peace. I miss my brother, Lady Ivorwen. In the last few years, he had become a part of me. Being him allowed me to work through my grief and the need for vengeance. It was hard to let him go, but it was time."

           "And your plans now?" Ivorwen asked.

           "I have asked Laeriel to be my wife. We have plans to handfast come Coirë.*"

          Ivorwen clasped her hands together in glee and smiled wide. "I am thrilled…granddaughter."

           Laeriel smiled. She knew that Strider was the heir to the throne of Gondor and that she was far from being a queen, but her heart rejoiced knowing that he wanted her for his wife.

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          "Sire?"

          Dame Ioreth startled him out of his memories and he smiled as she set the hot water and athelas on the bedside table. He thanked her quietly, then setting aside his own tea, crushed the athelas between his hands and dropped the leaves into the bowl of water. The sweet smell permeated the room and he breathed in deeply, the mist calming his thoughts.

          He checked on Laeriel, who was still sleeping. Her breathing was much better this morning and the color had returned to her cheeks. She was still pale, but the specter of death had retreated from her features. Cautiously, he placed his fingers alongside her temple, searching for any sign of fever. Thankfully, the high heat he had expected had not appeared.

          "Strider?"

          He dropped his hand and leaned forward, searching Laeriel's features. "I'm here…open your eyes."

          Laeriel's eyelids fluttered, brushing against the pale skin of her cheeks before finally opening, her blue eyes meeting his. "Am I dreaming?" she asked, softly, her voice weak.

           "No…It's really me. How are you feeling?"

          "Like an Orc ran me down…"

          "Well, I doubt that…" he chuckled. "What happened? You were brought here in rough shape, Laeriel. I wasn't sure I could save you. You were at death's door."

          "You have always protected my blind side…I knew I could trust you to do that this time too."

          "It was a close call…you didn't want to come back. You were quite content staying within the circles beyond this world. You have no wounds, and yet you nearly died. Laeriel, talk to me. Where have you been all these years and what happened to bring you here?"

 "It's a very long story…"         

          "We have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you again," Aragorn said as he reached for her hand and slowly brought it to his lips. He placed a soft kiss against her fingers and smiled at her. "Now, tell me what happened."

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Coirë*~ the Quenya name for the Elvish season that lay between modern 1 February and 27 March.

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