Queen Mother's Arrival by Kaylee Arafinwiel

Queen Mother's Arrival

I think this is a oneshot and all there is. I think. Of course prompts do weird things to me...

"Are you well, my lady?"

She groaned, feeling bruised from head to toe. She feared she could not move.

Help...me... The thought was punctuated by a weak cry, a sad trill that shook her to her core. Did I make that sound?

"I will run to fetch my lord." The young healer looking her over bolted from the room. Just then, she realized two things. She had been wrapped in bandaging and the bed she lay in was manifestly not her own. She struggled, but a third realisation made itself unpleasantly plain. She was fettered by a mithril chain, one ankle clasped to the bed.

The young, dark-haired ellon - adan?, garbed in healer's robes, his hair braided and a plain mithril circlet banding his brow, hastened back into the room, looking her over with wide-eyed wonder. With a healer's tenderness, he soothed her, speaking words of comfort first in Taliska, of which she only understood a few words. Seeing her confusion, he switched first to Quenya, then Sindarin.

"You are Elwing of Doriath?" he repeated.

She gave a weak nod. "Elwing," she rasped, her voice hoarse from disuse. "Where..."

"This is Elenna," he told her quietly. "Andor."

Elwing's eyes widened. She had heard of the Land of Gift, raised for her son - she had seen it on her flights. "Elenna...but how did I come to be here?" she asked between sips of the strengthening brew the healer - was he a healer? - was giving her.

"A hunter. He thought he had brought down a swan," The Adan - surely he was an Adan? - looked scornful. "Though I must say, you are as lovely as a swan, Lady Elwing...or ought I to say Queen Elwing?"

"Queen?" She struggled to sit, and he assisted her.

"Surely as mother of the King, and last scion of the royal house of Doriath that was, you ought to be revered as Queen Mother."

"The King," Elwing whispered. "May I...may I see him? Would he want to see me?" She lowered her eyes. "I fear he does not."

"He does," the Adan replied. "Very much."

Elwing nodded slowly. "You seem to be very confident of your King's mind."

He smiled faintly. "I ought to be. Will you see him?"

"Of course," Elwing replied, tears pricking her eyes. What would she give to hold her firstborn again, given the chance...

He nodded. "I will return with him shortly." The healer departed, and Elwing waited, breath quickening. Before long the healer was back, with quite the following.

The King entered first. Dark haired and grey eyed, he stood tall and proud, much like her father Dior and grandfather Elu Thingol, as she had seen them in portraits. He wore his crown and robes of state, and belted at his waist the great sword Aranruth, which had been Elu's before, though he removed it and handed Aranruth to the healer at his side.

To the King's right was the Queen, and she was not so tall, her hair not quite so dark. She had lovely brown eyes and hair of the same shade, and accepted her husband's crown and outer robe. The healer looked very like her - so like, in fact, that Elwing realised he must be her son. Elros' son. To each side of the healer stood another young Adan - no, Peredhel, she corrected herself, though who could say what their choice would be? and among the three men, a young woman who looked very like Elwing herself.

Elros stepped forward and knelt at the bedside. "Mother," he whispered. "Naneth. You are here."

"Elros..." Elwing found herself drawn into his embrace. "Elros, I never meant to hurt you or Elrond so."

"I know that now," he replied, stroking her hair. "Naneth, may I introduce you to my family?"

"Please, ion nin," Elwing whispered, taking in the sight.

Elros smiled proudly as he drew back. "Naneth, this is Emeldir, my Queen, and our four children. Vardamir, called Nolimon--"

The eldest bowed to her, and she nodded back. "Our daughter, Tindómiel," The young Woman curtseyed. "Manwendil, our second son."

This was the healer, Elwing realised, and she smiled gratefully upon him. "Atanalcar, our youngest," Elros finished, and the fourth-born, who could not be much more than to his majority - if he had even attained it - returned Elwing's smile.

"It is a pleasure to meet all of you," Elwing said softly. A pleasure she never thought she would be granted.

This, perhaps, was worth a little bruising.