“Daydreaming again, Arandel?” Arandel reclined upon a window seat, her chin propped against her hand.
“Aye,” she said softly.
“Well you’d best come back if you don’t want to miss breakfast,” her mother told her.
Arandel rose and crossed to where her mother was holding out a pale yellow dress for her. “Why can’t anything exciting ever happen?” she asked, allowing the soft material to be slipped over her head.
Her mother laughed softly; a light silvery laugh, that makes one think of music. “I know a great many people who are glad for the peace,” she told her daughter, “and you should be too.”
“Oh, I don’t mean like a war or anything like that. That would be just dreadful. I was thinking more along the lines of well….. a trip.”
Her mother laughed again, “a trip, eh? And tell me, my little adventurer, where would you go?”
Arandel raised her arms so that her mother could tie her sash. “The Shire. To visit the Halflings. You and father are always telling stories about them, but I have never seen one. How do I even know they exist? What if you and father just made them up?”
“And why would we do that,” her mother asked.
But Arandel never got a chance to answer. There was a soft rap on the door. “Come in,” called Arandels mother.
A servant entered and bowed. “Breakfast is ready, Queen Arwen.”
“We will be right down,” She told him. “Go get your brother, Arandel,” She told her daughter.
Arandel stuck her head into the adjoining room and shouted, “Eldarion! Breakfast!”” She turned back to her mother. “There,” she said.
Her mother rolled her eyes and sighed. “That was not what I meant, and you know it. Now mind your manners, and be a lady.”
Just after breakfast, the family was in the palace gardens when a page delivered a parchment to the King. He scanned it quickly, and then tucked it in the pocket of his tunic. “What is the parchment say?” the Queen asked her husband.
“A request from King Eomer of the Mark for my council concerning some perplexing problems they’ve been having concerning the trade routes.”
“Will you go?”
“Of course. The Rohan are our closest friends and neighbors. It is only right that we should help them if they wish it.”
Arandel, who had been listening closeby popped up and put her hand in her fathers. “May I go with you, Father?” she asked, looking up at him with her wide gray eyes.
“Arandel!” her mother reprimanded.
“Please, Father. I wouldn’t be any trouble.” Aragorn looked at her gray eyes. They were just like her mothers, and he could never resist those eyes. And she knew it.
“Ok, fine. You can go. After all, how dangerous can it be?”
To be continued……