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b2mem2012-03-14 01:53 pm
cairistiona7.livejournal.com) wrote in b2mem2012-03-14 01:53 pm
A King Come Home At Last, by cairistiona
B2MeM Challenge: N-33, Aspects of Aragorn, "Father"; Economy, "Infrastructure"; Life Events, "Childhood"; Roles and Names of Aragorn, "King"; Smells, "Onion"
Format: Short Story
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Elessar, Eldarion
Pairings: None
Summary: A father and son enjoy the rebuilt Minas Tirith market square.
“Here, hold my hand,” Elessar said as they walked through the jostling crowds. They had the King’s Guard with them, but the sheer mass of humanity in the market meant holding his son close. Eldarion had just turned seven, but in the way of those of Númenórean blood who age far more slowly than other races of Men, he was still quite small and easily lost, especially if he decided to dart off chasing a minstrel, as he was prone to do. He could pass by stalls laden with every kind of sweet treat without a second glance, but if he heard music anywhere, he was off like an arrow shot from a bow, determined to find the musician. So Elessar kept a firm grip. The last thing he needed was to face Arwen when she returned from Ithilien with the news that he’d lost the crown prince while he was out picking up some pipeweed!
It was a happy crowd this day, for the dwarves and stonemasons had finally finished the infrastructure of the new first-level marketplace that stood inside the Great Gate. There were some finishing touches yet to do – the fountain was not yet fully operating and there were several empty spots awaiting statuary – but those were future improvements. There was no need for any further delay of its use, so this very morning Elessar had christened its grand opening with a speech and a ribbon-cutting and flourish of trumpets. Its completion had been forced to wait on more pressing projects, like the new Great Gate, but now after long years of waiting and of work removing rubble, planning the design, assigning artisans, hewing and hauling the stones and clearing up the construction debris, the marketplace pavilions were complete, matching in every way the splendor of the Great Gate.
And more importantly to Elessar, its completion meant commerce could carry on with far greater ease now that there was a vast, central location instead of a multitude of smaller make-shift markets scattered hither and yon wherever lack of ruin and rubble allowed, mostly on higher levels that had suffered less destruction. Smaller shops and markets would continue to thrive all over the city, but having one great one at the very gates of the city, within easy reach of farmers bringing in their wain-loads of goods, was just the symbol of unity, strength and prosperity that Gondor needed. He looked at the arches and porticos and the beauty of it and was deeply moved, for its opening marked one more step in healing the great city from the wounds inflicted upon it by the machines of war.
But impressive though the buildings themselves might be, it was a market after all, and he, like everyone else, was here to enjoy a day of shopping, music and good eating. He and Eldarion strolled with relative ease among the crowd, thanks in part to his contingent of guards but mostly to the people of Minas Tirith themselves, who, now that at least a little of the newness of having a king had worn off, seemed more than willing to allow him to move about the city without too much fuss. He returned smiles and nods but for the most part, they seemed to have accepted an unwritten rule that the King could mingle among them, after a fashion, without being swarmed, and he was ever grateful for their polite regard, even if it had come at his own strong behest after his first year spent cooped up on the sixth level because his every emergence sparked near riots. Gone forever were his days a Ranger when he could slip into any town, inn or market without the least notice, but the good people of Gondor did at least offer a soothing compromise when he let it be nosed about that the King might go mad unless he were allowed to flee the cage now and then. He smiled as he remembered asking Faramir to start a deliberate campaign of whispered rumors. It had spread like wildfire, as did all news of the King and his family, and though it no doubt caused his Captain of the Guard some sleepless nights, before very long he was walking about without much in the way of interference, though he did have to tolerate having a tag-along of guards about him at all times.
So he and Eldarion moved about freely, chatting with merchants hawking everything from exotic oranges and lemons from Harad to potatoes, carrots, onions and strawberries grown right here on the Pelennor, and cheeses from Bree and pipeweed from the Shire. Elessar’s eyes brightened as he approached that particular stall. Like Eldarion after his minstrels, he wouldn’t mind darting off to procure a bag of Longbottom Leaf and then find solitude in some quiet corner to enjoy a smoke. He smiled at the very idea–after all his stern insistence that the Captain of the Guard let him stroll about freely, he dast not ditch his loyal shadows. So instead he leaned over and whispered a discreet request into the ear of the Captain. The man nodded, face solemn but giving him a quick wink, and slipped away. His lieutenant immediately took his place at Elessar’s elbow.
Eldarion tugged on his hand. “Where’s Denlad going, Ada?”
“He’s getting me some onions.”
Eldarion gave him a look. “But you don’t like the way onions smell. You say they make you cry and give you a stomach ache.”
“You’ve caught me. He’s buying some pipeweed.”
“But Nana doesn’t like pipeweed.”
“But Ada does, and he only smokes it when he’s with his men, so Nana doesn’t get mad.”
Eldarion considered this, then nodded. “All right. You can have some.”
Elessar smiled and squeezed the little hand in his. Sometimes he wondered which one of them was the father and which the wayward son. “You will squander your childhood if you persist in being such a somber guardian of your father.”
“Someone has to,” Eldarion said solemnly, but his eyes twinkled.
Elessar laughed. “And glad am I that you have taken on the role!” He reached down and swung his son to his shoulders, much to Eldarion’s giggling delight. Eldarion put his hands on either side of Elessar’s head to steady himself and in the process knocked Elessar’s circlet askew. “Have a care, son. T’would take all my pipeweed money if I had to buy a new crown.”
“I’m sorry, Ada.” Eldarion tried to straighten it but instead jammed it down so far that Elessar feared for the safety of his ears. He reached up and gently nudged it to its proper place, then patted Eldarion’s right leg where it hung over his shoulder. No harm done, after all; his ears were still attached to his head.
Thus they strolled through the new market, and people pointed and smiled but let them be. Elessar sighed with deep contentment. He never would have thought he would so love living within stone walls, but as he looked around at the sun-drenched beauty of Minas Tirith, he reveled in the knowledge that he had come home at last.
Format: Short Story
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Elessar, Eldarion
Pairings: None
Summary: A father and son enjoy the rebuilt Minas Tirith market square.
“Here, hold my hand,” Elessar said as they walked through the jostling crowds. They had the King’s Guard with them, but the sheer mass of humanity in the market meant holding his son close. Eldarion had just turned seven, but in the way of those of Númenórean blood who age far more slowly than other races of Men, he was still quite small and easily lost, especially if he decided to dart off chasing a minstrel, as he was prone to do. He could pass by stalls laden with every kind of sweet treat without a second glance, but if he heard music anywhere, he was off like an arrow shot from a bow, determined to find the musician. So Elessar kept a firm grip. The last thing he needed was to face Arwen when she returned from Ithilien with the news that he’d lost the crown prince while he was out picking up some pipeweed!
It was a happy crowd this day, for the dwarves and stonemasons had finally finished the infrastructure of the new first-level marketplace that stood inside the Great Gate. There were some finishing touches yet to do – the fountain was not yet fully operating and there were several empty spots awaiting statuary – but those were future improvements. There was no need for any further delay of its use, so this very morning Elessar had christened its grand opening with a speech and a ribbon-cutting and flourish of trumpets. Its completion had been forced to wait on more pressing projects, like the new Great Gate, but now after long years of waiting and of work removing rubble, planning the design, assigning artisans, hewing and hauling the stones and clearing up the construction debris, the marketplace pavilions were complete, matching in every way the splendor of the Great Gate.
And more importantly to Elessar, its completion meant commerce could carry on with far greater ease now that there was a vast, central location instead of a multitude of smaller make-shift markets scattered hither and yon wherever lack of ruin and rubble allowed, mostly on higher levels that had suffered less destruction. Smaller shops and markets would continue to thrive all over the city, but having one great one at the very gates of the city, within easy reach of farmers bringing in their wain-loads of goods, was just the symbol of unity, strength and prosperity that Gondor needed. He looked at the arches and porticos and the beauty of it and was deeply moved, for its opening marked one more step in healing the great city from the wounds inflicted upon it by the machines of war.
But impressive though the buildings themselves might be, it was a market after all, and he, like everyone else, was here to enjoy a day of shopping, music and good eating. He and Eldarion strolled with relative ease among the crowd, thanks in part to his contingent of guards but mostly to the people of Minas Tirith themselves, who, now that at least a little of the newness of having a king had worn off, seemed more than willing to allow him to move about the city without too much fuss. He returned smiles and nods but for the most part, they seemed to have accepted an unwritten rule that the King could mingle among them, after a fashion, without being swarmed, and he was ever grateful for their polite regard, even if it had come at his own strong behest after his first year spent cooped up on the sixth level because his every emergence sparked near riots. Gone forever were his days a Ranger when he could slip into any town, inn or market without the least notice, but the good people of Gondor did at least offer a soothing compromise when he let it be nosed about that the King might go mad unless he were allowed to flee the cage now and then. He smiled as he remembered asking Faramir to start a deliberate campaign of whispered rumors. It had spread like wildfire, as did all news of the King and his family, and though it no doubt caused his Captain of the Guard some sleepless nights, before very long he was walking about without much in the way of interference, though he did have to tolerate having a tag-along of guards about him at all times.
So he and Eldarion moved about freely, chatting with merchants hawking everything from exotic oranges and lemons from Harad to potatoes, carrots, onions and strawberries grown right here on the Pelennor, and cheeses from Bree and pipeweed from the Shire. Elessar’s eyes brightened as he approached that particular stall. Like Eldarion after his minstrels, he wouldn’t mind darting off to procure a bag of Longbottom Leaf and then find solitude in some quiet corner to enjoy a smoke. He smiled at the very idea–after all his stern insistence that the Captain of the Guard let him stroll about freely, he dast not ditch his loyal shadows. So instead he leaned over and whispered a discreet request into the ear of the Captain. The man nodded, face solemn but giving him a quick wink, and slipped away. His lieutenant immediately took his place at Elessar’s elbow.
Eldarion tugged on his hand. “Where’s Denlad going, Ada?”
“He’s getting me some onions.”
Eldarion gave him a look. “But you don’t like the way onions smell. You say they make you cry and give you a stomach ache.”
“You’ve caught me. He’s buying some pipeweed.”
“But Nana doesn’t like pipeweed.”
“But Ada does, and he only smokes it when he’s with his men, so Nana doesn’t get mad.”
Eldarion considered this, then nodded. “All right. You can have some.”
Elessar smiled and squeezed the little hand in his. Sometimes he wondered which one of them was the father and which the wayward son. “You will squander your childhood if you persist in being such a somber guardian of your father.”
“Someone has to,” Eldarion said solemnly, but his eyes twinkled.
Elessar laughed. “And glad am I that you have taken on the role!” He reached down and swung his son to his shoulders, much to Eldarion’s giggling delight. Eldarion put his hands on either side of Elessar’s head to steady himself and in the process knocked Elessar’s circlet askew. “Have a care, son. T’would take all my pipeweed money if I had to buy a new crown.”
“I’m sorry, Ada.” Eldarion tried to straighten it but instead jammed it down so far that Elessar feared for the safety of his ears. He reached up and gently nudged it to its proper place, then patted Eldarion’s right leg where it hung over his shoulder. No harm done, after all; his ears were still attached to his head.
Thus they strolled through the new market, and people pointed and smiled but let them be. Elessar sighed with deep contentment. He never would have thought he would so love living within stone walls, but as he looked around at the sun-drenched beauty of Minas Tirith, he reveled in the knowledge that he had come home at last.