"Nana?"

Arwen took a deep breath, and leaned over to see behind her chair. In the balcony doorway stood her young son, in his white night clothes and black hair sticking up like a little duckling's. With one hand, he clutched the door frame, still not being quite steady on his pudgy toddler feet. His other hand was in his mouth, and when Arwen held out her arms he rushed into them.

"Could you not sleep, ion-nin, is that it?" Eldarion nodded, supremely satisfied on his mother's lap. Arwen ran her slim fingers through his hair, thinking with a smile how endearingly soft it was. Eldarion leaned into her chest, hiding his face into her shawl. He understood perfectly well what she said to him, and during the day he would chatter away happily in perfectly understandable language - but when he was tired, he was a toddler of few words.

Arwen put her arms around him, and soon he fell asleep - the wee little man-child that was the hope and heir to the throne of Gondor, fast asleep with his thumb in his mouth.

Whether it was from cold, or something else, the queen shivered as she looked out at the magnificent White City from a balcony high on the King's House. The sun had set a mere half hour ago - it was around nine o'clock in the evening, and nights were getting darker anyway at this time of the year. Already there was a glittering net of stars spanning across the dark, velvety night sky, a great source of comfort to the Queen of Gondor.

It seemed as though decades had passed since she had seen this view for the first time, when in reality it was only almost three years. The streets of Minas Tirith were darkened with the shadows of the night, lit here and there by lamps that seemed like tiny specks from the distance. Not a soul moved in the expanse of city that thrived and bustled like a hive of bees during the day, and it was so quiet Arwen could almost hear her heart beat. Then came the vast expanse of the Fields of Pelennor, with the city of Osgiliath shining in reflected moonlight beneath the shadowy mountains of Mordor. Only on a clear night like this, and a full moon shining its sorrowful face onto the deserted landscape below, could such a wonderful view be seen. Arwen's eyes were sharper than most, and she watched for a while the guards on the night shift walking silently through the Fifth Circle.

It seemed so long ago that she had stared down at the very same view in blinding sunlight, watching teams of men cheerfully call to each other as they began to repair the damage done by Sauron's forces. Had it not been for her Estel's gamble in distracting the Great Eye at the Black Gates during that crucial moment when Frodo the Hobbit destroyed the Ring - why, the city might have been razed to the ground. This was why Arwen shivered as she gazed down at the beautiful city that had grown very dear to her in her short realm as queen.

The silence was suddenly broken as the little figure curled up on Arwen's lap yawned loudly and stirred from his slumber once more. Arwen ruffled her son's hair again, laughing to herself as Eldarion's eyes, wide with childish amazement, noticed for the first time the brilliant maze of stars above him. They reflected in his grey eyes and made them sparkle in a way only an innocent child's could.

"Look, nana!" Eldarion cried softly, taking hold of Arwen's soft white shawl and wrapping it around his tiny thumb, not even once tearing his gaze from the night sky, infinitely huge above the two of them.

"Isn't it wonderful, ion-nin? Look there, Eärendil, the brightest of all stars. Elemmíre the steadfast, directly above us, see? Morwinyon, over yonder, and Alcarinquë over the farthest spire on the farthest tower of Osgiliath." Arwen could not keep her eyes off her son, who was still staring with wonder at the stars. She pointed them out one by one, taking Eldarion's chubby fist in her gentle hands to show each one, to trace out the constellations.

"And the constellations, can you see them? Annaríma, and Wilwarin, like those butterflies you chase in the Court of the Fountain! And look, the Crown of Dúrin! Isn't it wonderful.... and Elbereth herself watching over us...."

Suddenly a bright light flashed across the sky. Eldarion was entranced. "Look, nana! They can fly!"

"Indeed, some can, dear boy. It is said that the Noldor elves - your ancestors - shaped the all-seeing Palantíri from such shooting stars."

Eldarion, soothed by his mother's soft voice, burrowed himself into his mother's shawl even further, and with another yawn, Arwen realised the time. As she carried him into the small sitting room and closed the glass door gently with one hand, the warmth from the fire enveloped them so thoroughly that Arwen almost began to feel drowsy herself. She settled down onto the couch before the fire with Eldarion still in her arms. Then Arwen began to sing softly, in a voice as clear and lovely as it had ever been when it had filled the halls of Imladris with its sweetness, in a time that seemed a far age away.

A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath,
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!

As it continued, Arwen thought of her mother - the song had been a favourite of hers, and Arwen had been raised to the sound of Celebrían praising Elbereth, Lady of the Stars, in a voice that would have done credit to that of Lady Lúthien herself. She was so lost in memories that when the door handle clicked and began to swing softly open, she nearly jumped when Eldarion sat suddenly bolt upright at the sound, all drowsiness gone in an instant.

"Ada! Ada, ada, ada!"

Aragorn was still wearing his deep red cloak and stately garments - the day of seeing tax collectors and meeting with the guild leaders had gone on much longer than anticipated. Seeing that his attempts to stay quiet were evidently fruitless, he reached out and swung his son into the air. Eldarion giggled with happiness, and continued to hang onto his father's knee even as he was set down. Aragorn put his arm around his wife and sat down next to her, half closing his eyes.

"They really have kept you long this time! What was it all about?" Arwen asked, leaning her head on his shoulder and tucking her feet up, something she only allowed herself to do in the dead of night with only her family for company as was the occasion now. Aragorn half laughed, half groaned.

"They mean well, I know they do, and it's my own fault for putting these meetings off for so long. If it weren't for your help, meleth-nin, I would go mad. Taxes and yet more taxes - the worst season of them all, and the Master of the Treasury is the most persistent of all of them. What other man would stay up until such an hour to discuss such dull work is absolutely beyond me."

Arwen smiled. "And Faramir? Is he not also being constantly harassed by those demons they call trade guilds?"

"You know, usually Faramir enjoys busy life and chores such as this. If I didn't have him.... however this week was different, he seemed entirely preoccupied the whole time, and the moment the last meeting was over he took off home to Ithilien - I tried to persuade him to stay for the night but he would not hear of it."

"And is there a reason for this?" Arwen asked lazily, keeping one eye on Eldarion, who had given up trying to walk without something to hold onto and was getting dangerously close to the fireplace."

"You'll never guess."

"I never could. Tell me, meleth-nin."

"The Lady Éowyn.... Shieldmaiden of Rohan, slayer of the Witch-king.... is with child."

Arwen sat up in surprise, and fell back again, almost laughing. "What wonderful news! How lovely for her, when she has been hoping for a child for so long! And Faramir, too. Why did they not tell us sooner?"

"Oh, they wanted to keep it a surprise, I think. I wangled it out of him eventually,  though - there aren't many secrets one can keep from their King, and his efforts to hide it were pretty desperate, if I'm honest," Aragorn grinned. "He was practically bouncing off the walls in excitement. How nice for Eldarion to have a playmate at last!"

Arwen smiled mysteriously.

"Ai, my love, something I forgot to mention. I went to the Houses of Healing yesterday."

This time it was Aragorn who sat up, frowning. "Is everything all right, Arwen? Are you quite well?"

Arwen nodded slowly, wondering how to go about telling him. "Yes, I am well. I only want you to know.... oh, Estel! I wanted you to know that.... that by this time next year, when the year is old,  leaves wither and fall, and the night air turns cold - Eldarion will have more than one new playmate." 

Wonderingly, with tears in his ageless grey eyes, Aragorn took her delicate face in his trembling hands. "Can it be possible...."

Arwen's reply was not in words, but for one long, tender moment, both King and Queen forgot about their little son, who, delighted with the lack of attention, had taken it upon him to thoroughly explore the pretty orange-red lights that flickered up and down the shifting wooden logs, blackening them and turning them to dust. As it happened, the orange lights were burning hot and not very friendly. Eldarion yelled with pain.

Arwen rose, concerned, but Aragorn immediately placed a hand on her shoulder and gently made her sit down again. He caught Eldarion up, and, impervious to his shrieks, examined his hand which looked ludicrously small against his father's, and was really devoid of any major burns. 

"I rather think you'll live, Eldarion," Aragorn said finally, when the little boy had quietened at last. "And now I am going to take you to your nursery. You are tired out, and I dread to think what you will be like in the morning." Eldarion was too tired to complain.

When Aragorn returned, alone, he found Arwen almost asleep herself, curled up on the couch, staring with glazed eyes into the slowly dying fire. She looked up and smiled at him - that smile never failed to make his heart somersault around his chest with happiness. She was his - finally, after so long, their patience had finally been rewarded. Sometimes Aragorn feared it was only a dream - that he would wake up at last, alone in the wilderness, holding his few, precious letters from Rivendell to his heart to quench his loneliness as he had often done on his many sleepless nights as a ranger. But when he felt his wife's hand in his, saw that smile - he knew it was real. Though his ranger's heart desired to roam the wild and be free, his desire to be with Arwen always, always triumphed.

"May I...."

Arwen nodded, and Aragorn slipped to his knees at her feet and placed a hand on her belly, ever-so-softly rounded, so gently she hardly felt it. He whispered something in Sindarin, so quietly she hardly heard it.

"I think it's a girl," Arwen stated matter-of-factly as he sat back down beside her. Aragorn raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you think that?" 

"Oh, I can tell," she replied dreamily, leaning into his chest and feeling the all to familiar feeling of Foresight, a slight shiver whispering down her spine. "She will be beautiful and loved, as elegant and graceful as a queen."

They stayed together on the soft velvet couch, watching the fire die away until the embers were but a small red glow in the very heart of the fireplace, each dreaming of the future and taking comfort in each other's presence.