FicWad

Halbarad was beginning to question whether his friendship with Aragorn would ever regain the kind of closeness they had had so many years ago, before the Chieftain's long absence. Aragorn had returned to the North a year ago now, and what with the press of duties they both had, there had been little time to get to know each other again. True, they worked together all the time, since Halbarad was now Aragorn's chief lieutenant. His own father, Hallor, was too ill to continue in that role or as a captain of the Rangers, and probably would not live much longer. But the Chieftain was always focused on the needs of the patrols, the menaces that had been uncovered in the Wild, the constant worry about the safety of the women and children in the settlement. Aragorn seemed to be completely absorbed by his duties, and was on the road even more than most of the others. He pushed himself, Halbarad thought, too hard.

He had changed since going away 25 years ago. Or had he? Yes and no. He had always been quiet and considered by many inscrutable, although Halbarad had gotten underneath that reserve and came to know his friend, he thought, quite well. When he was relaxed and in an expansive mood no one could be a better companion or a warmer friend. But there seemed now to be a whole new dimension to his character. He exuded an authority and leadership that 25 years ago had been latent but undeveloped. When he was angry or troubled about some problem or other, the glint in his eyes utterly quailed the younger men, who seemed to hold him in awe, and challenged the older men.

During the long absence messages (never written, however) would occasionally reach the Dúnedain, and someone always knew where the Chieftain was to be found, in case a summons had to be sent. Gandalf often carried these messages, and twice in 25 years Aragorn had sent Halbarad personal greetings. The stories of his achievements in Gondor, where he had become the Captain-General and the most trusted counselor of the Steward and thus one of the most powerful men in the country, had made him a legend among his own people, especially to those too young to know anything about him but the stories.

In fact, he was sometimes downright intimidating, but in a thoroughly quiet way that was, again, so characteristic. The only instance of this that Halbarad had himself witnessed, however, was the unfortunate meeting of the captains where some poor wretch had stated that it was time for the Chieftain to marry. Everyone knew from the gleaming eyes and the set of his mouth that this had been a big mistake. But all he said was, "That is none of your concern." And that was the end of that.

On the other hand, he was also much less moody, or at least now able to avoid inflicting his black spells on others, unlike in his youth-it was nearly 30 years ago now-when those leaden silences had annoyed Halbarad to no end. And in the back of his eyes Halbarad still saw that look that he had come to think of as the heart of his friend: that gentleness, that sweetness, as his sister called it, that defined the man within the warrior and the leader. When she had first used those words to describe Aragorn, Halbarad had simply accused her of having a crush on him (which was true). However, he soon came to agree that she had gotten it exactly right. And sure enough, Aragorn was also the man that anyone in trouble went to first, and that without hesitation: everyone knew that he would help those in need, and usually quite well, if it was within his power.

So Halbarad was surprised that one day, when Aragorn had been back in the Angle not even two hours after a three-months' absence, he showed up at Halbarad's door. In his hand he had a letter that Halbarad recognized as the very one that had been delivered some three weeks ago by a messenger from Rivendell.

"Halbarad," he said, "come to Rivendell with me."

"Is this the request of a friend or an order from the Chieftain?" Halbarad asked.

He smiled then. "Both, actually. Will you come? Can you come? We will leave Galborn in charge. It will be a quick visit, a day, two at most-that's all the time I can spare. I have an appointment to keep with Gandalf in Bree, and you must return here. But there's someone in Rivendell I want you to meet."

This was intriguing. "Give me a day," Halbarad said.

"At dawn, then, the next day," Aragorn confirmed, and hurried off again.

He set a fast pace for the journey, which Halbarad recognized as now a regular habit. He did not offer to explain the purpose of the trip. Halbarad had learned years ago that you did not ask questions; you waited for him to speak. In this he had not changed at all. Over the fires at night, and striding down the trails, he kept his silence, and indeed appeared to be drawn deeply into thought. At least he no longer snarls, Halbarad thought, remembering some singularly unpleasant nights 30 years earlier. Then he sighed. He would not even mind the snarling if along with it came the easy companionship that also appeared to be lost.

However quiet and reticent Aragorn had been in the past, he had also been as hungry for life as Halbarad himself, and the two of them had indulged in the trespasses of youth whenever their demanding lives allowed it, which was not very often. A smile came to Halbarad's face as he recalled a particularly wild night in Bree with two enthusiastic lasses, and the tantalizing talks he had had with Aragorn about the delightfully easy attitude of the Elves toward the pleasures of the body. Those days are lost with our youth, he thought, not without some regret.

Soon they were walking up the path to Elrond's House, and still Aragorn had not spoken. He was frowning down at the pavement as he strode, but when a silvery voice called out, "Dúnadan! At last, you have come!" and Aragorn looked up sharply. And there was the most beautiful creature Halbarad had ever seen, running barefoot up the path, her dark hair like a cloud down her back, to fling herself into Aragorn's arms, laughing like a joyful spring and kissing him full on the mouth.

"Arwen!" he said. "I am covered with dirt from the road."

"Never mind, you are here. I just came out to kiss you, I am busy in the kitchens and we will have to meet later."

"Just as well, so I can clean up." He turned to Halbarad. "Arwen, this is my cousin, Halbarad Hallor's son."

And to Halbarad's utter astonishment she threw her arms around his neck, too, and kissed him-only on the cheek. Aragorn was laughing.

"Come!" she said. "We have a meal for you, and a hot bath will be waiting." And she turned to lead them to the House. "Here I must leave you, but I will come as soon as I may." And she turned down a passage and disappeared to the back of the House.

"I gather," Halbarad said, "that's the person you wanted me to meet."

Aragorn was still smiling. "Forgive me-I thought I would have some time to explain myself, but I wasn't expecting she would run out to embrace a muddy Ranger. In fact-two muddy Rangers."

"I might forgive you in 10 or 20 years," Halbarad said. He was still catching his breath. "Maybe you need to get to know her better. And what's with the name: 'Dúnadan'?"

He laughed again. "Oh, she calls me that all the time. Come, let's go upstairs. I must at least say a quick hello to my mother before we hit the baths."

*
The next morning, waiting until what he thought was an excessively polite late hour, Halbarad went to Aragorn's rooms and knocked on the door. Arwen opened the door, wearing a light blue dress, again with that astonishing hair rippling (Halbarad could see now) past her waist. He hoped he had not turned bright red as he stammered an apology.

"Oh, no, come in," she said in a soft voice, opening the door wider, and putting a finger to her lips. "Good morning. But speak low; Estel is still sleeping, but I am glad to have an opportunity to talk to you."

Halbarad could see through another door into the bedroom, where amid a rumple of sheets a dark head lay. He thought he had a pretty good idea of why his Chieftain was still asleep at this (for a Ranger) ridiculously late hour.

"Sit down," she said. "Estel has told me so much about you."

"I hope he hasn't told you everything," Halbarad said, attempting a light tone but scarcely knowing what to expect of her.

She laughed then, a delightful musical trill of joy. "Oh, not nearly as much as I would like," she said, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. "But I am hoping, actually, to hear all sorts of stories about him from you. Come, please, sit down."

"I cannot speak loosely about my Chieftain," Halbarad said as he took a seat at the table and poured himself a hot cup of tea.

"What a relief!" Aragorn's voice came from the back room. "The secrets of our misspent youth are safe." He appeared at the door dressed in a dark green robe.

"I hope I did not wake you, Estel," Arwen said.

"No, my love," he said. "I was awake, just enjoying the comfort of bed too much to get up. But now that my cousin is here, I can lie in sloth no longer."

"All right, then," she said to Aragorn, "I'll have to ask Halbarad about all the things you won't tell me another time. Shall I take my leave, then? I am expected, in fact, I am late. But here is some breakfast for you," gesturing at the table. She kissed her lover and left, tossing a warm smile over her shoulder at Halbarad as she left.

Aragorn sat at the table and selected some fruit, cheese and bread for a small meal. After eating in silence for a little while, he said, "The first thing I must do today is to see Elrond."

"Well, you don't look very happy about it. I thought he was your foster father."

"She is his daughter."

Halbarad jumped up, a look of sheer terror on his face. "What! His daughter! Are you mad? He will turn us into swine and feed us to the dogs, or something. We'll never get out of here alive."

"I thought you knew more about Elves than that," Aragorn said. "If Elrond wanted to keep me out of Rivendell, he certainly could, and not even Arwen could do much about it. But he would never presume to dictate such choices to his daughter, for one thing. That is not the way things are done here, I thought I had explained that to you a long time ago. Furthermore, once you are in Elrond's House, you are a guest. And he is never rude to a guest, never mind not turning them into swine. I don't think his powers lend themselves to transformations like that, anyway."

"You mean he already knows about this."

"Oh, he knows, all right. We had one, very painful conversation about it a year ago. But then Arwen was still in Lórien. I don't expect we will revisit the discussion now, there is no point to it. But needless to say, it makes things very tense between us."

"Why, if, as you say, he does not dictate to his daughter?"

"Because this is not just a pleasant affair for either her or me. Halbarad, she is willing to leave her people and live with me, renouncing her Elven powers to be my wife and the mother of my children. I think you know what that means. No wonder that Elrond dislikes it; it would be strange if he did not," he said, and his eyes were dark with pain. "I can hardly bear it myself," he murmured.

Beren and Lúthien, Halbarad thought with some astonishment.

After a sigh, Aragorn continued. "Either I will achieve the kingship that Elrond says is my destiny, or the Heirs of Isildur will end with me. Arwen will not be my wife under any other conditions; Elrond and I agree on that. We neither of us wish her to be the companion of a wandering Ranger. And that's the way it is."

"You know very well that I have always believed that if any man would restore the kingship, it would be you," said Halbarad, "ever since I first learned of Elrond's foresight."

Aragorn smiled then. "You have always believed it more than I did myself. But it is different now. I have not only a duty, but it is my own deepest wish. Not that it brings me any nearer. And there are some other, albeit much smaller, difficulties. I find I need a friend and some advice about this matter, as far as the Dúnedain are concerned."

"Ah. I see. It was the meeting of the captains where Turmund made that unfortunate comment."

"Actually, that's not the only instance of such comments, although since the meeting they have stopped. I made sure of that. But it will come up again, with time, and I have no intention of making this matter widely known. I know I can count on your discretion, and it will help to have your support, even if no one understands why."

"They will begin to guess, as time goes on," Halbarad said. "Such secrets cannot be kept forever."

"That is true, I suppose, and inevitable. I will deal with it when it comes." He was quiet again for a while. "Indeed, my friend, the world around us darkens so much that I believe the coming war will pose the same question: either the Dúnedain will reestablish their lordship in Middle-earth, or we will pass into legend. If we fail, I do not expect I will survive; and what is left of our people will disappear into the shadows. But no matter what happens, I will cause pain to the one I called father as a child. Either I fail him, or I take his daughter from him."

He turned to his friend with a smile, and Halbarad saw in his eyes that open warmth that was Aragorn's heart. "But come, my friend," Aragorn said. "Go enjoy the day. I'll meet you again after I see my father."

*
Halbarad did not see Aragorn again until the afternoon, when his friend joined him in the gardens outside the House. He seemed to be in a relaxed and happy mood.

"It went well with Elrond, then?" Halbarad asked.

Aragorn shrugged, sitting down next to Halbarad on an intricately carved bench beneath an arbor of fragrant flowers. "We did not talk about it. After all, it may well never happen. But let's put that aside. I have a pleasant message for you," he said. "A lady of the house wants to make your acquaintance."

"Intimately, I presume you mean."

"Certainly. Her name is Firiel, and she is a friend of Arwen's. And not the daughter of any powerful Elf lords, so you needn't worry about being turned into a frog."

Halbarad hesitated.

"Don't tell me you have acquired scruples. You know very well that your wife will never hear about it from me."

"It's not that. But an Elf would be a new experience for me."

"I can assure you that as far as the physical aspects go, they are exactly the same."

"And the other aspects?"

"There are none for a friendly encounter. Except that they are much more wanton than you might expect."

Halbarad digested this. How could he resist? But he had another question. "And the aspects in a relationship such as yours?"

"She can reach my mind when we are apart."

"That must be very, very strange," Halbarad said.

"Actually, it is a great solace for a man so often alone, as I am," Aragorn said. "It's not constant, and it comes and goes according to how she reads my well-being. There are limits to what even she can do. I notice it mainly when there is trouble-danger, fear. Then I can feel that she is there. But of course I can't answer."

Halbarad grinned wickedly. "Speaking of scruples, can she tell when you're in bed with another woman?"

"Good question. Since I have been virtuous in the last year, I don't know."

"Don't tell me you're going to ask her."

"Why not?" He laughed at the expression on Halbarad's face. "It's a hypothetical question. She has nothing to worry about as far as that goes. I am utterly smitten and at her feet, as I am sure you have noticed for yourself. So, my friend, what is your answer?"

Halbarad said, "Yes."

"Arwen has suggested that the four of us get together. Wanton, like I said."

"What do you think about it?"

"If I opposed it, would I ask you?" said Aragorn. "As I seem to remember, there were at least one or two occasions in the past when you and I shared a bedroom with a couple of women. Or shared one woman, for that matter."

"Yes, but one of them was never your affianced wife," Halbarad pointed out.

"I learned a long time ago not to be jealous. It was a hard lesson."

"All right, then. How could I say no?"

"Let's go then. They're waiting."

"Oh, I see! You were that sure I would agree!"

"How long have we known each other? To be sure, we are now so old and serious that our wild oats are behind us. But when you spend time with Elves as much as I have done, you learn to truly appreciate how short our lives are. I have little time for fun as it is, so I intend to enjoy myself now. Tomorrow, I must be on the Road at dawn."

*
The golden light of the afternoon sun flickered through the room. Cushions of silk and soft wool and fur rugs lay scattered across the warm wooden floor. There were bottles of wine, fruits and nuts in abundance, and a sweet fragrance of lilacs faintly scented the air. Four naked bodies entwined, came together, parted, in an entrancing dream. When, with whom, and how many times Halbarad reached climax, he did not know.

He and Firiel were curled up together against soft cushions, their heads touching, when Aragorn turned over and gathered Arwen into his arms. He caressed and kissed her as if he were stroking a priceless thing of great delicacy, and they looked into each other's eyes. Halbarad and Firiel watched them almost in awe. Halbarad had never seen any two people gazing at each other with such love in his life. Their love-making was beautiful and intense, almost painfully so, like a sensual dance. This must be the love the poets sing of, he thought.

"She will die for him," Firiel said softly, and Halbarad felt a shiver of wonder that words that were usually spoken as a figure of speech were, in this case, literally true.

*
The two Elf women stirred from a blissful reverie of sex-satiated Elvish dreams as the red-orange glow of the setting sun colored the far wall. Arwen sat up and sighed deeply at the sight of the two Men, flat out asleep. She touched Aragorn's face and got no response of any kind.

"Oh, no," she moaned.

"What's wrong with them?" Firiel said.

"Nothing really. They are sleeping. It's what happens to mortals. I found out early on that there's nothing to do but to wait for him to wake up. When he sleeps like that, it means he needs to."

"You mean we can't wake them at all?" Firiel asked, looking at Halbarad with regret.

"Oh, we could. But they would be very unhappy about it. And I only know one way to wake Estel up so that he is completely alert in an instant. I never tried it, but I know it would work. And he would never forgive me."

"What is it?"

"Rattle a sword in his ear. He's a man of war, so he has learned to be ready to fight that fast. But really it would not be a very kind thing to do."

"No," Firiel agreed.

"Don't worry," Arwen said. "When they wake up, they'll both be as good as new, maybe in an hour or two. Meanwhile, we have each other." And she turned to her friend with an inviting smile.