Post by Admin on Jan 9, 2021 19:34:21 GMT
Author: Mirach
Ranking: 2nd place
Summary: A mysterious note is found in the archives of Minas Tirith. The three hunters meet again to hunt for a treasure, while Arwen just tries to tell something to her husband.
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I do not own the work of Tolkien, or the work of Dan Brown. I just like riddles...
In wine is the truth, in the wine red like blood. In the eighth wineyard grow the sweetest grapes. Can the circle win, even though the trees entwine? The content is more important than the form. Wine ripens with years, just like a twin echoing the words of his brother. A triangle saw inevitable fall of the kingly wine through a sword. Winery is closed and nobody opens entwined door. The wine stays behind the door, low in evening’s glow.
“That makes no sense,” Aragorn shook his head. “Where did you find it, Faramir?”
“In the archives. It was stuck between the plans of Ecthelion’s rebuilding of the tower.”
“Then it must be at least three hundred years old!” the king of Gondor immediately grasped the small peace of parchment more carefully.
“Maybe even older,” Faramir replied. “It’s possibly older than the plans, at least the parchment looks like it could be.”
“I don’t understand it...” Aragorn said, putting the paper down on the table. “It sounds like the talk of some madman – no, a drunkard - but if it’s so well preserved, it should be important...”
“It could,” Faramir admitted. “But I don’t know how.”
“Well, we have the trade agreement with Laketown to deal with. Let’s put it back between the plans. But...” Aragorn looked at the letter again, and smiled slightly. “Let’s make a copy. For the long evenings.”
Faramir nodded, knowing exactly what his king and friend is thinking about.
It happened that the envoy from the Laketown was followed by unrests in the East, and they were followed by the need to reform the law system, and the long evenings were filled with work. Sometimes though, when the King and Steward met, they exchanged a look, and a little shake of head, saying: “Something?” “No, nothing...”
Some time later, Legolas and Gimli arrived to spend some time with friends. They were siting in Aragorn’s study.
“What is this?” Legolas asked, as his look stopped on a piece of paper that apparently had nothing to do with official documents. It was covered with strange words, notes and scratched notes in different colours of ink. “Have you been writing poetry, Aragorn?”
The King blushed slightly. “No. That’s just... some nonsense that was found in the archives. Probably some scholar got drunk several hundreds of years ago.”
“But you have been trying to decipher it,” Legolas looked at him from beneath half-closed eyelids, a look reminding on a cat observing a bowl of milk.
“Well...” Aragorn raised his eyebrows, “I thought it might be a riddle. I didn’t have much time to think about it.”
“In wine is the truth, in the wine red like blood,” Legolas read aloud. “Can a circle win? But what circle? The entwined trees can be the Two Trees of Valinor, but what is the circle that can win despite of them? The Circle of Valar? Or Mahánaxar, the Circle of Doom? The twins could be Elrond and Elros. Or maybe Amrod and Amras? And what did they mean by the fall of kingly wine? It’s probably a mistake. Line would make more sense... although it’s not true at the end,” he looked at Aragorn with a little smile.
King Elessar smiled as well, but then pointed at the piece of paper. “Yes, I thought of that...” All of the things Legolas mentioned were among the notes he wrote on the margins. “But it still makes no sense. It could be some metaphor. Wine as a symbol of blood, or life, or...”
As the discussion stretched, Gimli looked increasingly bored. “You know, gentlemen,” he spoke finally, “to me, beer is beer and wine is wine. I like beer better, but it seems to me that drunkard who wrote this preferred wine. “’Tis all.”
Aragorn smiled slightly. “I must admit there is a lot of wine in the note, master Gimli. Maybe you are right, and there is no riddle – wine is just wine. If only I could be sure, so it lets me sleep peacefully...”
“We could ask the Hobbits, they like riddles,” Legolas suggested.
“I’ll be sure to ask when I next see them. I think they like wine just like beer, if it’s good,” he chuckled, and leaned back in the chair. “And while we are at it... It’s not evening yet, but would you like some wine, or beer?” he looked especially at Gimli.
The dwarf nodded vigorously, but Legolas looked like he didn’t hear the question. “Wine is wine, indeed...” he muttered, looking intently at the piece of paper. “May I?” he asked, pointing at the quill.
Aragorn nodded and leaned closer to see what Legolas is doing.
“There is a lot of wine indeed,” the Elf said. “See?” he underlined several words in the text:
In wine is the truth, in the wine red like blood. In the eighth wineyard grow the sweetest grapes. Can the circle win, even though the trees entwine? The content is more important than the form. Wine ripens with years, just like a twin echoing the words of his brother. A triangle saw inevitable fall of the kingly wine through a sword. Winery is closed and nobody opens entwined door. The wine stays behind the door, low in evening’s glow.
“Interesting!” Aragorn’s eyes shone.
Gimli just sighed, because he realized the offer of beer if forgotten for some time.
“That would explain the kingly wine,” Legolas said triumphantly. “Maybe the number of the word wine is important? There are 13 of them.”
“No, I don’t think it’s the number. Maybe the words after... Is red grow though the ripens the fall through is door glow. No, that makes no sense. What about the words before? In the eighth circle trees form a triangle, kingly sword opens the door.”
Legolas held his breath. “That’s it, Aragorn!”
“That’s it?” Aragorn frowned slightly. “But what?”
“The true riddle! The note was just a way to hide it.”
“A riddle in a riddle?”
“Yes!”
Gimli sighed again.
“All right,” Aragorn said slowly. “Minas Tirith has seven circles. So why eight?”
“One more circle in the seventh one?” Legolas suggested.
“The tower! Ecthelion’s tower is the eighth circle!”
“Good,” Gimli contributed to the debate. “We won’t have to go far.”
“Aragorn?” Arwen entered the room, but her husband with friends was gone. She sighed, and headed to the dining hall to see if they went there.
“Trees form a triangle, trees form a triangle...” Legolas was walking around the throne room. “One of them could be the White Tree,” he pointed at the standard behind the throne. “But what about the other two? Aragorn, you should know the tower best, are there any more trees?”
“One is just outside.”
“No, we are looking for trees in the tower.”
“Then there are the tapestries at the second floor. There are the Two Trees, and Nimloth growing in Númenor, and Hírilorn, the giant beech of Doriath. I think there is one tapestry of Mirkwood as well...”
“I see,” Legolas said sourly. “Certainly more than three.”
Aragorn nodded. “But...” he looked around. “The tapestries can be moved. Who know where they hung three hundred years ago, and how many were replaced since then?”
“Three...” Legolas scratched his head. “So we are looking for a tree that can hold.”
“A tree that can hold...” Aragorn repeated thoughtfully and looked around.
Gimli pulled on his beard and yawned.
“My lords, what are you doing?”
They turned around to see Faramir approaching them with a puzzled expression.
“Faramir!” Aragorn’s face brightened. “We are close to solving the note you found!”
“Note?”
“The one with wine,” Aragorn repeated shortly what they found out, and the papers Faramir was carrying remained forgotten on the pedestal of one of the statues – it was Atanatar II.
“A tree?” he asked finally.
“You have grown up here, don’t you know about a triangle of trees, probably carved in the stones of the tower?”
“No, I... wait! Does the basement count?”
The three companions looked at each other. “Of course it does!”
In the next moment, all four of them were gone from the throne room and headed to the basement.
“Aragorn! Estel? Where are you?” the Queen’s steps echoed in the empty throne room. “She sighed. “Don’t you know where my husband has gone?” she asked one of the guards.
“Here it is!” Faramir pointed at the arch of the door, carved into the form of a stone tree.
“Excellent!” Legolas exclaimed. “It looks as old as the tower itself! I think we have found our tree!”
“Excellent...” Gimli echoed into his beard.
“One of the trees,” Aragorn emphasized. “There should be three of them.”
“Right, there should be three,” Faramir nodded. “I remember another one, in the other room,” he led them to one of the store rooms. They passed several doors, but none of them were decorated with a tree motif - only the one in the room where butter was stored.
“We only need to find the third one!” Legolas’s eyes shone with excitement.
“I’m sorry, my lords, but I don’t know about a third such door,” Faramir said apologetically.
“It could be walled, or hidden behind some shelves...” Aragorn bit his lip.
“True...” Faramir scratched his head.
“Beer shelves?” Gimli suggested, but nobody listened to him.
“You found the old plans,” Aragorn smiled at Faramir. “If there was some door, it should be there.”
“Indeed! My lords, let’s go to the archives!”
“Aragorn! Legolas! Gimli? Are you here?” Arwen descended the stair leading to the basement and held up the candleholder. She sighed when nobody answered her.
“Here, the original plans of Ecthelion’s rebuilding of the tower.” Faramir opened a carefully rolled document.
Four heads leaned over the old piece of parchment and studied it for some time.
“Here!” Faramir’s finger stopped in one place. “There is no door between these two rooms, but according to the plans, there should be one!”
“Let’s go there!”
“Please, have you seen the King?” Arwen asked the keeper of the archives.
“Yes, he was here just a few moments ago.”
“Did he say where he went?”
“No, he didn’t tell me.”
The Queen sighed.
“But... They were talking about something in the basement.”
“Basement? Again?” Arwen raised her eyebrows. “Thank you!” she left the archives.
“Here, behind this shelf!”
“Behind the apples...” Gimli sighed disappointedly, but he helped his three friends to push the shelf away.
A walled door was revealed behind it, and at the arch – a carved tree!
“Let’s find the center of the triangle!”
For a few moments, the four lords of Gondor, Ithilien and Aglarond walked from one room to another and measured the steps. They ended with four different centers of the triangle.
“This wouldn’t do,” Aragorn sighed. “We need to find the center more accurately.”
“On the parchment!” Faramir nodded.
“We have left the plans in the archives,” Legolas said. “Let’s go there.”
“Estel, come on,” Arwen’s voice sounded with a slight exasperation as she entered the quiet basement. “Are you playing hide and seek with me?”
“So the center is here,” Faramir put away the scribing compass.
“Are you sure? We won’t have to return here again?” Gimli asked.
“Absolutely sure.”
“Then let’s go and finally solve that riddle of yours. I’m thirsty...”
“So he was here again, and he left... again?” Arwen was tapping her foot on the floor.
“Yes, my Queen... They were doing something with one of the parchment and then left, looking excited.”
“I wonder what they are up to...”
“It should be here,” Faramir pointed at a place somewhere between the sacks of flour.
Aragorn and Legolas immediately started to move them away.
“Cautious, this one is...” Legolas started as Aragorn lifted one of the sacks, but didn’t manage to finish in time: “...open.”
Aragorn blinked and wiped his face with his hands, trying to get the flour away from his eyes. He sneezed.
Gimli laughed. “You look like a miller, lad!”
Aragorn brushed off his clothes, but it didn’t help much. He started to laugh as well, followed by Legolas and finally Faramir.
“Look!” Gimli exclaimed suddenly when the laughter ceased a little. “Isn’t this what you have been looking for?”
They leaned closer. There was a inconspicuous socket beneath the sack that Aragorn just removed.
“Kingly sword opens the door...” Legolas whispered.
“Kingly sword,” Aragorn echoed. “Andúril! I left it upstairs!”
Gimli just hid his face in his palms.
Arwen shook her head as she looked at the mess among the sacks of flour. She followed the white tracks leading from the room and upstairs, to Aragorn’s study.
“I hope you have a good explanation for this, Estel,” she muttered.
Aragorn took the scabbard with Andúril. “Let’s go!”
“We can take the other stairs, it’s closer,” Faramir suggested.
“Good. But that’s the last time I’m going with you,” Gimli grumbled.
The tracks led to Aragorn’s study. Arwen took a deep breath and opened the door quietly. Nobody was there.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” she shook his head and looked at the tracks more closely. They were already unclear as the flour wiped off on the carpets. It seemed they led to the basement... again.
The hilt of Andúril it into the socket perfectly. They waited with a bathed breath.
Nothing happened.
“Try to turn it,” Legolas suggested.
Aragorn nodded, and pushed on the sword carefully. It was surprisingly easy – a piece of the stone turned as well! It revealed a handle.
Aragorn stepped back. “Would you like to open it?” he asked Faramir. “You found the note...”
“No, my lord. You solved it.”
“No, Legolas solved it. Maybe he should...”
“And I am thirsty and impatient,” Gimli grumbled, and pulled on the handle.
The secret trap door opened, revealing a dark opening with steps.
They looked at each other.
“Don’t you start arguing who should go first,” Gimli snorted, and disappeared in the darkness before they could say a word.
Aragorn shook his head, and followed the Dwarf with a candle.
“Aragorn? Are you down there?” Arwen’s voice sounded a little afraid as she looked at the strange trap door. She listened for a few heartbeats. She heard something. Was that... laughter? She raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath. Then she entered the door with determination.
The stair was not long, and led to another room. “Aragorn!” she called.
The laughter ceased. “Arwen? What are you doing here?” It was Aragorn’s voice, and it sounded content.
Arwen sighed with relief. “I’m looking for you,” she replied, taking a few steps forwards. The sight that was revealed before her eyes surprised her. Aragorn was there, together with Faramir, Legolas and Gimli. Her husband’s hair and clothes were white with flour, and he was holding a dusty bottle. The shelves around were full of such bottles.
“Come vanimelda!” Aragorn called to her. “We have found a treasure!”
“A treasure?” she frowned, looking around.
“Look!” he showed her the bottle. It was apparently a bottle of wine, and the vignette was dusty and hard to read, but she could still recognize the words: Rómenna, S.A. 3317.
“It’s wine from Númenor!” Aragorn exclaimed. “The White Tree and the palantírs were not the only things that Elendil and his sons saved!”
Arwen shook her head in disbelief.
“Can we open a bottle at least, when we already found it?” Gimli asked matter-of-factly.
“We should save it for special occasions and for our descendants as well,” Faramir objected.
Arwen smiled mysteriously. “Maybe there is one,” she looked at Aragorn.
“What do you mean, my love?” Aragorn blinked, immediately trying to sort through his memory to find out if he forgot some anniversary.
“I have been trying to find you for the whole day to tell you something,” Arwen smiled at him. “Come with me,”
Aragorn looked puzzled, but followed her out of the wine cellar. “What is it, vanimelda?”
“Better sit down...”
He looked around. There was no chair, but he didn’t protest and sat down on the stairs obediently. His face was getting worried. “What happened?”
“Estel....” she leaned closer to him. “I’m with a child.”
“You... You are... We... Oh Arwen!” he rose and embraced his wife firmly. “That is indeed a reason to celebrate! Come!” He led her back. “Legolas! Open the bottle! I’ll be a father!” he called already from the door.
And so the wine of Númenor flew in the celebration of Gondor’s future heir. Only Arwen didn’t drink, for women with a child should not. And Gimli got a tankard of beer from the basement, after he tasted the wine. The documents at the statue of Atanatar II. had to wait for a day longer.
Ranking: 2nd place
Summary: A mysterious note is found in the archives of Minas Tirith. The three hunters meet again to hunt for a treasure, while Arwen just tries to tell something to her husband.
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I do not own the work of Tolkien, or the work of Dan Brown. I just like riddles...
In wine is the truth, in the wine red like blood. In the eighth wineyard grow the sweetest grapes. Can the circle win, even though the trees entwine? The content is more important than the form. Wine ripens with years, just like a twin echoing the words of his brother. A triangle saw inevitable fall of the kingly wine through a sword. Winery is closed and nobody opens entwined door. The wine stays behind the door, low in evening’s glow.
“That makes no sense,” Aragorn shook his head. “Where did you find it, Faramir?”
“In the archives. It was stuck between the plans of Ecthelion’s rebuilding of the tower.”
“Then it must be at least three hundred years old!” the king of Gondor immediately grasped the small peace of parchment more carefully.
“Maybe even older,” Faramir replied. “It’s possibly older than the plans, at least the parchment looks like it could be.”
“I don’t understand it...” Aragorn said, putting the paper down on the table. “It sounds like the talk of some madman – no, a drunkard - but if it’s so well preserved, it should be important...”
“It could,” Faramir admitted. “But I don’t know how.”
“Well, we have the trade agreement with Laketown to deal with. Let’s put it back between the plans. But...” Aragorn looked at the letter again, and smiled slightly. “Let’s make a copy. For the long evenings.”
Faramir nodded, knowing exactly what his king and friend is thinking about.
-oOo-
It happened that the envoy from the Laketown was followed by unrests in the East, and they were followed by the need to reform the law system, and the long evenings were filled with work. Sometimes though, when the King and Steward met, they exchanged a look, and a little shake of head, saying: “Something?” “No, nothing...”
Some time later, Legolas and Gimli arrived to spend some time with friends. They were siting in Aragorn’s study.
“What is this?” Legolas asked, as his look stopped on a piece of paper that apparently had nothing to do with official documents. It was covered with strange words, notes and scratched notes in different colours of ink. “Have you been writing poetry, Aragorn?”
The King blushed slightly. “No. That’s just... some nonsense that was found in the archives. Probably some scholar got drunk several hundreds of years ago.”
“But you have been trying to decipher it,” Legolas looked at him from beneath half-closed eyelids, a look reminding on a cat observing a bowl of milk.
“Well...” Aragorn raised his eyebrows, “I thought it might be a riddle. I didn’t have much time to think about it.”
“In wine is the truth, in the wine red like blood,” Legolas read aloud. “Can a circle win? But what circle? The entwined trees can be the Two Trees of Valinor, but what is the circle that can win despite of them? The Circle of Valar? Or Mahánaxar, the Circle of Doom? The twins could be Elrond and Elros. Or maybe Amrod and Amras? And what did they mean by the fall of kingly wine? It’s probably a mistake. Line would make more sense... although it’s not true at the end,” he looked at Aragorn with a little smile.
King Elessar smiled as well, but then pointed at the piece of paper. “Yes, I thought of that...” All of the things Legolas mentioned were among the notes he wrote on the margins. “But it still makes no sense. It could be some metaphor. Wine as a symbol of blood, or life, or...”
As the discussion stretched, Gimli looked increasingly bored. “You know, gentlemen,” he spoke finally, “to me, beer is beer and wine is wine. I like beer better, but it seems to me that drunkard who wrote this preferred wine. “’Tis all.”
Aragorn smiled slightly. “I must admit there is a lot of wine in the note, master Gimli. Maybe you are right, and there is no riddle – wine is just wine. If only I could be sure, so it lets me sleep peacefully...”
“We could ask the Hobbits, they like riddles,” Legolas suggested.
“I’ll be sure to ask when I next see them. I think they like wine just like beer, if it’s good,” he chuckled, and leaned back in the chair. “And while we are at it... It’s not evening yet, but would you like some wine, or beer?” he looked especially at Gimli.
The dwarf nodded vigorously, but Legolas looked like he didn’t hear the question. “Wine is wine, indeed...” he muttered, looking intently at the piece of paper. “May I?” he asked, pointing at the quill.
Aragorn nodded and leaned closer to see what Legolas is doing.
“There is a lot of wine indeed,” the Elf said. “See?” he underlined several words in the text:
In wine is the truth, in the wine red like blood. In the eighth wineyard grow the sweetest grapes. Can the circle win, even though the trees entwine? The content is more important than the form. Wine ripens with years, just like a twin echoing the words of his brother. A triangle saw inevitable fall of the kingly wine through a sword. Winery is closed and nobody opens entwined door. The wine stays behind the door, low in evening’s glow.
“Interesting!” Aragorn’s eyes shone.
Gimli just sighed, because he realized the offer of beer if forgotten for some time.
“That would explain the kingly wine,” Legolas said triumphantly. “Maybe the number of the word wine is important? There are 13 of them.”
“No, I don’t think it’s the number. Maybe the words after... Is red grow though the ripens the fall through is door glow. No, that makes no sense. What about the words before? In the eighth circle trees form a triangle, kingly sword opens the door.”
Legolas held his breath. “That’s it, Aragorn!”
“That’s it?” Aragorn frowned slightly. “But what?”
“The true riddle! The note was just a way to hide it.”
“A riddle in a riddle?”
“Yes!”
Gimli sighed again.
“All right,” Aragorn said slowly. “Minas Tirith has seven circles. So why eight?”
“One more circle in the seventh one?” Legolas suggested.
“The tower! Ecthelion’s tower is the eighth circle!”
“Good,” Gimli contributed to the debate. “We won’t have to go far.”
-oOo-
“Aragorn?” Arwen entered the room, but her husband with friends was gone. She sighed, and headed to the dining hall to see if they went there.
-oOo-
“Trees form a triangle, trees form a triangle...” Legolas was walking around the throne room. “One of them could be the White Tree,” he pointed at the standard behind the throne. “But what about the other two? Aragorn, you should know the tower best, are there any more trees?”
“One is just outside.”
“No, we are looking for trees in the tower.”
“Then there are the tapestries at the second floor. There are the Two Trees, and Nimloth growing in Númenor, and Hírilorn, the giant beech of Doriath. I think there is one tapestry of Mirkwood as well...”
“I see,” Legolas said sourly. “Certainly more than three.”
Aragorn nodded. “But...” he looked around. “The tapestries can be moved. Who know where they hung three hundred years ago, and how many were replaced since then?”
“Three...” Legolas scratched his head. “So we are looking for a tree that can hold.”
“A tree that can hold...” Aragorn repeated thoughtfully and looked around.
Gimli pulled on his beard and yawned.
“My lords, what are you doing?”
They turned around to see Faramir approaching them with a puzzled expression.
“Faramir!” Aragorn’s face brightened. “We are close to solving the note you found!”
“Note?”
“The one with wine,” Aragorn repeated shortly what they found out, and the papers Faramir was carrying remained forgotten on the pedestal of one of the statues – it was Atanatar II.
“A tree?” he asked finally.
“You have grown up here, don’t you know about a triangle of trees, probably carved in the stones of the tower?”
“No, I... wait! Does the basement count?”
The three companions looked at each other. “Of course it does!”
In the next moment, all four of them were gone from the throne room and headed to the basement.
-oOo-
“Aragorn! Estel? Where are you?” the Queen’s steps echoed in the empty throne room. “She sighed. “Don’t you know where my husband has gone?” she asked one of the guards.
-oOo-
“Here it is!” Faramir pointed at the arch of the door, carved into the form of a stone tree.
“Excellent!” Legolas exclaimed. “It looks as old as the tower itself! I think we have found our tree!”
“Excellent...” Gimli echoed into his beard.
“One of the trees,” Aragorn emphasized. “There should be three of them.”
“Right, there should be three,” Faramir nodded. “I remember another one, in the other room,” he led them to one of the store rooms. They passed several doors, but none of them were decorated with a tree motif - only the one in the room where butter was stored.
“We only need to find the third one!” Legolas’s eyes shone with excitement.
“I’m sorry, my lords, but I don’t know about a third such door,” Faramir said apologetically.
“It could be walled, or hidden behind some shelves...” Aragorn bit his lip.
“True...” Faramir scratched his head.
“Beer shelves?” Gimli suggested, but nobody listened to him.
“You found the old plans,” Aragorn smiled at Faramir. “If there was some door, it should be there.”
“Indeed! My lords, let’s go to the archives!”
-oOo-
“Aragorn! Legolas! Gimli? Are you here?” Arwen descended the stair leading to the basement and held up the candleholder. She sighed when nobody answered her.
-oOo-
“Here, the original plans of Ecthelion’s rebuilding of the tower.” Faramir opened a carefully rolled document.
Four heads leaned over the old piece of parchment and studied it for some time.
“Here!” Faramir’s finger stopped in one place. “There is no door between these two rooms, but according to the plans, there should be one!”
“Let’s go there!”
-oOo-
“Please, have you seen the King?” Arwen asked the keeper of the archives.
“Yes, he was here just a few moments ago.”
“Did he say where he went?”
“No, he didn’t tell me.”
The Queen sighed.
“But... They were talking about something in the basement.”
“Basement? Again?” Arwen raised her eyebrows. “Thank you!” she left the archives.
-oOo-
“Here, behind this shelf!”
“Behind the apples...” Gimli sighed disappointedly, but he helped his three friends to push the shelf away.
A walled door was revealed behind it, and at the arch – a carved tree!
“Let’s find the center of the triangle!”
For a few moments, the four lords of Gondor, Ithilien and Aglarond walked from one room to another and measured the steps. They ended with four different centers of the triangle.
“This wouldn’t do,” Aragorn sighed. “We need to find the center more accurately.”
“On the parchment!” Faramir nodded.
“We have left the plans in the archives,” Legolas said. “Let’s go there.”
-oOo-
“Estel, come on,” Arwen’s voice sounded with a slight exasperation as she entered the quiet basement. “Are you playing hide and seek with me?”
-oOo-
“So the center is here,” Faramir put away the scribing compass.
“Are you sure? We won’t have to return here again?” Gimli asked.
“Absolutely sure.”
“Then let’s go and finally solve that riddle of yours. I’m thirsty...”
-oOo-
“So he was here again, and he left... again?” Arwen was tapping her foot on the floor.
“Yes, my Queen... They were doing something with one of the parchment and then left, looking excited.”
“I wonder what they are up to...”
-oOo-
“It should be here,” Faramir pointed at a place somewhere between the sacks of flour.
Aragorn and Legolas immediately started to move them away.
“Cautious, this one is...” Legolas started as Aragorn lifted one of the sacks, but didn’t manage to finish in time: “...open.”
Aragorn blinked and wiped his face with his hands, trying to get the flour away from his eyes. He sneezed.
Gimli laughed. “You look like a miller, lad!”
Aragorn brushed off his clothes, but it didn’t help much. He started to laugh as well, followed by Legolas and finally Faramir.
“Look!” Gimli exclaimed suddenly when the laughter ceased a little. “Isn’t this what you have been looking for?”
They leaned closer. There was a inconspicuous socket beneath the sack that Aragorn just removed.
“Kingly sword opens the door...” Legolas whispered.
“Kingly sword,” Aragorn echoed. “Andúril! I left it upstairs!”
Gimli just hid his face in his palms.
-oOo-
Arwen shook her head as she looked at the mess among the sacks of flour. She followed the white tracks leading from the room and upstairs, to Aragorn’s study.
“I hope you have a good explanation for this, Estel,” she muttered.
-oOo-
Aragorn took the scabbard with Andúril. “Let’s go!”
“We can take the other stairs, it’s closer,” Faramir suggested.
“Good. But that’s the last time I’m going with you,” Gimli grumbled.
-oOo-
The tracks led to Aragorn’s study. Arwen took a deep breath and opened the door quietly. Nobody was there.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” she shook his head and looked at the tracks more closely. They were already unclear as the flour wiped off on the carpets. It seemed they led to the basement... again.
-oOo-
The hilt of Andúril it into the socket perfectly. They waited with a bathed breath.
Nothing happened.
“Try to turn it,” Legolas suggested.
Aragorn nodded, and pushed on the sword carefully. It was surprisingly easy – a piece of the stone turned as well! It revealed a handle.
Aragorn stepped back. “Would you like to open it?” he asked Faramir. “You found the note...”
“No, my lord. You solved it.”
“No, Legolas solved it. Maybe he should...”
“And I am thirsty and impatient,” Gimli grumbled, and pulled on the handle.
The secret trap door opened, revealing a dark opening with steps.
They looked at each other.
“Don’t you start arguing who should go first,” Gimli snorted, and disappeared in the darkness before they could say a word.
Aragorn shook his head, and followed the Dwarf with a candle.
-oOo-
“Aragorn? Are you down there?” Arwen’s voice sounded a little afraid as she looked at the strange trap door. She listened for a few heartbeats. She heard something. Was that... laughter? She raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath. Then she entered the door with determination.
The stair was not long, and led to another room. “Aragorn!” she called.
The laughter ceased. “Arwen? What are you doing here?” It was Aragorn’s voice, and it sounded content.
Arwen sighed with relief. “I’m looking for you,” she replied, taking a few steps forwards. The sight that was revealed before her eyes surprised her. Aragorn was there, together with Faramir, Legolas and Gimli. Her husband’s hair and clothes were white with flour, and he was holding a dusty bottle. The shelves around were full of such bottles.
“Come vanimelda!” Aragorn called to her. “We have found a treasure!”
“A treasure?” she frowned, looking around.
“Look!” he showed her the bottle. It was apparently a bottle of wine, and the vignette was dusty and hard to read, but she could still recognize the words: Rómenna, S.A. 3317.
“It’s wine from Númenor!” Aragorn exclaimed. “The White Tree and the palantírs were not the only things that Elendil and his sons saved!”
Arwen shook her head in disbelief.
“Can we open a bottle at least, when we already found it?” Gimli asked matter-of-factly.
“We should save it for special occasions and for our descendants as well,” Faramir objected.
Arwen smiled mysteriously. “Maybe there is one,” she looked at Aragorn.
“What do you mean, my love?” Aragorn blinked, immediately trying to sort through his memory to find out if he forgot some anniversary.
“I have been trying to find you for the whole day to tell you something,” Arwen smiled at him. “Come with me,”
Aragorn looked puzzled, but followed her out of the wine cellar. “What is it, vanimelda?”
“Better sit down...”
He looked around. There was no chair, but he didn’t protest and sat down on the stairs obediently. His face was getting worried. “What happened?”
“Estel....” she leaned closer to him. “I’m with a child.”
“You... You are... We... Oh Arwen!” he rose and embraced his wife firmly. “That is indeed a reason to celebrate! Come!” He led her back. “Legolas! Open the bottle! I’ll be a father!” he called already from the door.
And so the wine of Númenor flew in the celebration of Gondor’s future heir. Only Arwen didn’t drink, for women with a child should not. And Gimli got a tankard of beer from the basement, after he tasted the wine. The documents at the statue of Atanatar II. had to wait for a day longer.