The Prince's Portrait
B2MeM Challenge:Eldarion, possibly other Gondorians - baby's first armour
This ridonkulously cute photo of a kid cosplaying a young Eldarion is making the rounds over at Tumblr:
http://marta-fandom.tumblr.com/post/114847236279/eldarion
and I thought it would make for some interesting fic. What did Eldarion, his proud parents, or anyone else think of this finery? Is it new, or is it inherited from somewhere? What did Arwen think about seeing her child wearing the Evenstar, which neither waxed nor waned? What of the craftsmen who made it? I'd love to see what people make of different aspects of this post, and would welcome either an Eldarion-centric piece or something about other Gondorians' reactions.
Format: short story
Genre: Family, humour
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Aragorn, Arwen, Eldarion, OMC, OFC
Pairings: Aragorn/Arwen
Summary: Eldarion has his portrait painted.
The canon characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been nor will be made from this story.
With thanks to my friends here on LJ.
“I think it quite absurd,” said Arwen.
“It is the tradition, my love, not only in Gondor, but for all the surrounding realms.”
“You are the High King; you should create your own traditions!” Arwen retorted. “Eldarion is a child of only nine short years, so why dress him as a warrior holding a sword?”
“He always enjoys holding Andúril when I permit him too and he loves to play with his wooden sword.”
“That is quite different. He should be painted in his ordinary clothes playing with his puppy.”
“I am sorry, vanimelda, but this is an official portrait. We cannot have our own people, not to mention the Kha Khan of Harad and the other lords of the South and East, thinking that one day Eldarion will be less of a force to be reckoned with than I am. Much as I hope, Eldarion will never have to raise his sword in anger; he must look like he would be capable of so doing.”
Arwen sighed. “Very well, I understand, but I still wish that my son could be portrayed as the innocent child that he is.”
000
When Eldarion saw the outfit he was to wear, he was even less happy about matters than his mother. “These clothes look silly!” he complained.
“I thought you admired the uniforms the Citadel Guards wear,” said Arwen. “You told me you wanted to be either a Guard or a Ranger.”
“That was ages ago I only want to be a Ranger now and in any case the Guards don’t wear all this silly red and blue velvet, nor any jewels!”
“Your father has to wear jewels and velvets sometimes as part of his official duties.”
“Well, I don’t want to.”
“Well you are heir to the Reunited Kingdom and this part of your duties,” Arwen said firmly.
Eldarion scowled. He brightened, though when he saw the sword he was to carry. “I’m a warrior now!” he cried, brandishing the blade.
“Not until you are a man grown,” said Arwen. “Now hold it very carefully and stop waving it around. Someone might get hurt.”
000
Farawyn had been fretful and Arwen was already late for an important meeting she desired to attend. when Eldarion’s nanny appeared.
“Please, my lady, I thought I’d better come and ask your advice as Master Eldarion just won’t sit still for the artist. He does nothing but fidget. He wanted his dog with him, but I feared that would only make him more restless.”
Arwen sighed deeply. “Ask one of the nursery maids to take Nimrodel in and play with her. Hopefully that will distract my son. I am sorry, but I have to go now or I will be late.” She gestured to her maid to fetch her cloak.
“Very well, my lady,” the nanny said somewhat doubtfully.
000
Aragorn was engrossed in studying the finer points of a planned decree concerning the upkeep of Gondor’s roads when he heard the commotion. First a series of piercing barks and hisses, then a loud crash followed by a scream and more barking. The sound came from the family sitting room. He hastened to see what the matter was.
An unforgettable sight met the King’s eyes. In the centre of the room, the artist’s easel and paints lay on the ground. Paint was splattered everywhere, on the floor, on the painting, on Nimrodel and most of all over Eldarion’s clothes.
The spaniel was barking frantically at the nursery cat, who sat on top of a bookshelf, washing her whiskers.
Eldarion was waving his sword and shouting, “Naughty dog!” The artist was wringing his hands while the nanny looked about to have hysterics, as did a young nursery maid.
“What has happened here?” Aragorn sounded stern, though inwardly he wanted to laugh. He took the sword from his son. “I have told you to treat swords with respect, Eldarion. Why is Nimrodel not outside in her kennel?”
“Naneth told Nanny that I might watch her play while my picture was painted,” said Eldarion. “It wasn’t her fault that the cat walked in and she started chasing it.”
“That is why she lives in her kennel and plays with you outside so she will not get into mischief like this,” said Aragorn. “We will send for the maids to clean up this mess before your mother returns. One of the grooms can take Nimrodel outside. Master Turin will have to return tomorrow to paint your portrait after I pay for more paints for him.”
The nanny looked glumly at Eldarion’s finery. “I fear Master Eldarion’s clothes are ruined, my lord.”
“We shall have to find him some new ones then.”
“Do I have to have my picture painted, Ada? Sitting still is so boring!”
“Yes, you do, ion nîn. Why not watch Master Turin work. Maybe you could paint a picture of your own one day?”
“Painting is for girls,” Eldarion said glumly.
“I quite like to paint myself when I have the time,” said Aragorn. “So does Uncle Faramir. I do not think either of us are girls! Now go with your nanny and wash away the paint. You are covered in it.”
000
A few weeks later
Aragorn and Arwen stood in front of their son’s portrait. They were both smiling appreciatively. “It is such a fair likeness,” said Arwen. “This will be one of my dearest possessions. If any at Rivendell sail, I shall ask them to take a copy to my mother and father.”
“We will have many copies made so that the people can see what their prince looks like,” said Aragorn. “I should have listened to you to begin with, vanimelda. It is my place to introduce new traditions, not be enslaved by old ones. There will be plenty of time in the future for Eldarion to be depicted as a warrior. This portrait will help us remember him as a small boy when he is grown to manhood.
Eldarion’s painted likeness smiled at them from the canvas. He was sitting on the grass in the Queen’s garden, clad simply in a black tunic and trousers, while Nimrodel reclined on his lap. The only marks of his status were the white tree embroidered upon his tunic, a copy of those Aragorn liked to wear, and a mithril circlet about his head.
“I wonder however Master Turin persuaded both Eldarion and Nimrodel to stay still?” Aragorn mused.
Arwen laughed. “It proved quite simple. Eldarion played with the dog until they were both tired out before each sitting. I think they were both happy with the arrangement as was Master Turin!”