Burning the Midnight oil

 Author: Linda Hoyland

Title: Burning the Midnight Oil

Rating: G

Theme: Wisdom

Elements: No man can be a good ruler unless he has first been ruled.

Author's Notes: 

Summary: Faramir is concerned that Aragorn is working too hard.

Word Count: 884

Faramir put down his pen and glanced across the room to where the King was still working. “I have done all I can for tonight,” he said. “I think I will retire to bed now.”

Aragorn sighed. “There are still several sections of this treaty I need to work on.”

“You can continue it in the morning,” said the Steward. “We still have five days before the Grand Potentate arrives.”

“The treaty has to be checked by the experts in law and copied out several times by the scribes before he does,” said Aragorn. “I must finish it tonight. You should go and rest, though, you look exhausted.”

“So do you, mellon nîn,” said the Steward. He studied Aragorn’s familiar features in the candlelight. The King looked so weary that he appeared old and haggard instead of his usually vigorous self.

“Your lady will be waiting for you,” said Faramir. He got up from his desk and locked the parchment he was working on into a drawer.

“Arwen understands I need to work on this,” said Aragorn. “Goodnight, Faramir, May Elbereth bless your slumbers!”

Faramir said no more but quietly left the room. Instead of going to his own chambers, though, he turned down the corridor that led to the King and Queen’s apartments and tapped on the door.

“Come in,” the Queen’s voice that answered. She had obviously sent the servants to bed. “Oh, it is you, Faramir. Come sit down and take a glass of wine.” Her welcome was cordial, but her eyes betrayed her disappointment that the Steward stood before her and not her husband.  Her hair was unbound and she was clad in a loose robe and looked as if she were ready for bed. She was not alone as an elderly lady in waiting was snoozing on a chair in the corner of the room.

Faramir accepted the wine, but instead of drinking, he fingered the glass in his hand.

“I thought you were Estel for a moment,” said Arwen.

“I am concerned about him,” said Faramir. “He is exhausted, but he insists on sitting up to finish the treaty he is working on. He has been up since dawn and it is gone midnight now.”

“Estel spent all morning in a meeting and only paused to snatch a noonday meal before rushing off to the Houses of Healing as the healers sent for him to help a badly wounded man,” said Arwen. “Healing always drains him. He is the strongest of living men, but even he has his limits. I tried to persuade him not to return to work after the daymeal.”

“We felt we needed to work on the treaty after the messenger brought tidings from Khand late today,” said Faramir. “I am dealing with the part concerning trade and still have a good deal of work, but I knew if I worked any longer tonight I would write about tortoises rather than tariffs! I tried to get Aragorn to rest for the night too, but he would not listen,” said Faramir. He took a sip of his wine and tried to stifle a yawn. “I fear he will fall asleep at his desk. I came to you as I know he will heed your words, my lady.”

Arwen smiled at the Steward. “You know Estel all too well, my friend. Finish your drink and then we will see if we can persuade my weary husband to go to bed.”

“It will not be easy I fear, my lady. He can be very stubborn.” He drained his glass and placed it on the table. The lady in waiting began to snore softly.

Arwen laughed, but expression was determined. “I know Faramir, I know.”

Queen and Steward marched down the corridors together to Aragorn’s study. The King did not appear to have written anything since Faramir had left him. Faramir hovered on the threshold while Arwen entered the room.

Arwen coughed loudly. Aragorn did not move. “Estel?” she called, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Aragorn sat up with a start. “Yes, my love?”

“Come, Estel. It is time for bed.”

“I will come as soon as I have finished this treaty, my love.”

“You were half asleep. You should come and lie down now.”

“The treaty will be finished in an hour,” Aragorn protested.

“We have an important meeting in the morning,” said Faramir coming forward. “You need a good night’s sleep.”

“Do I have to send you to bed as I do Eldarion?” threatened an exasperated Arwen.

Aragorn turned to face his wife and his Steward. “Can the King not choose whether or not to sleep?” he asked them in mock irritation. He tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

“No man can be a good ruler unless he has first been ruled,” said the Queen firmly.

“A very good point to which I concede defeat,” said the King. He picked up the treaty and locked it in the drawer of his desk. “I am a fortunate man to have both a wise wife and a wise Steward.”

Arwen exchanged a triumphant glance with Faramir. He blew out the candles before Aragorn could change his mind.

“Goodnight, my friend,” said Aragorn as Arwen led him towards the royal bedchamber. “May the stars ever shine upon you!”


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