Seeds of the White Tree

Chapter 23 - When Springtime Comes

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Winter came and went quietly in Gondor, all the more silent in Minas Tirith for the absence of Túrien. As promised she returned for a visit at Yuletide, clad in full Haradrim regalia and thoroughly scandalizing her former peers amongst the nobility. Spring brought with it Túrien's eighteenth birthday, and by midsummer Aragorn was returning to Harad, this time with Arwen, Eruthiawen, and Almárëa alongside himself and Eldarion. King Elessar saw his second daughter wed the future chieftain of Harmindon beneath a canopy of cloth-of-gold laden with the white petals of desert flowers. Great was the joy of the bride and bridegroom's families, and even those in Gondor and Harad who at first opposed the marriage grew to accept if not celebrate the union of two nations now at peace.

Autumn followed swiftly on the heels of summer with the first frost soon to follow, and before long more than a year had passed since day when Túrien had stood before the throne and declared her wish. Snow fell soft and thick across the land. To the south, the woods of Ithilien lay slumbering beneath a mantle of white. The skies turned clear and grey as silver glass, and in the courtyard of the Citadel the White Tree shed it leaves and grew still. Soon a Yule log would burn on the hearth beneath garlands of pine boughs and holly berries. Already the kitchens kept mugs of mulled wine and spiced milk ever-warming and ready for chilled hands to reach for once out of their mittens.

It was around just such a garland-laden hearth, sipping from just such mugs of mulled wine and spiced milk, that the royal family of Minas Tirith gathered one mid-December evening. Arwen opened and read aloud the latest missives and notices while Aragorn listened and played at chess with Almárëa. Eruthiawen was embroidering a new bedsheet with pearl-white thread, her head cocked to listen to the news from abroad as well. As for Eldarion, he was busy writing a letter of his own to Elfwine. The young Third Marshal of Rohan had recently suffered a rather spectacular romantic failure, and Eldarion hoped to cheer him up as he licked his wounds. All-in-all it was a peaceful evening, the sort that was preciously rare to their family and all the more cherished for it.

"In conclusion, I wish to extend my appreciation to you, King Aragorn, and your steward the Lord Faramir for your swift response in reestablishing trade between our realms. We will send our first shipment down the Redwater once the ice breaks, and I am told that our Ambassador from the Woodland Realm has secured the delivery of the elf-made goods your queen requested as well.

With warm regards for the Yuletide season,

Bard II, King of Dale and Lord of Laketown."

The letter concluded, Arwen lingered curiously long over the parchment in her hand. Aragorn paused in his game with Almárëa and looked up from the chessboard. Almárëa had complained of a draft despite the fire on the hearth, and so now sat curled on a cushion with Aragorn's embroidered cloak wrapped about her.

"Meleth-nin? Is something amiss? It seemed to me that all is well in order for our plans to trade with the northern kingdoms."

Arwen shook her head, a hint of amusement playing across her face when she looked up from the letter.

"No, nothing is amiss. There is however an added salutation after King Bard's message. Eruthiawen, may I read it aloud?"

"Me?" Eruthiawen hesitated with her needle in mid-stitch. "I...I suppose so, although I have no notion of what more might be written there. Naneth?"

Eldarion caught Eruthiawen's eye as their mother returned to the letter. A slight pucker of confusion marred Eruthiawen's usually smooth brow. She set aside the half-finished sewing and folded her hands in her lap. Almárëa was staring at Eruthiawen too. Together the three siblings listened eagerly while Arwen read the rest of the message.