A/N: I don't own anything, except my brain and some very tattered, worn out copies of the Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, the Lord of the Rings, etc. I wish I did, but they belong to great genius J.R.R. Tolkien.

Thanks for all the reviews! There's some Elvish in this one. If it's incorrect, hey, I tried! Quenya! Someone also requested longer chapters, and I hope this one is good enough. Keep reviewing!

Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith, Gondor. Fourth Age. Spring, Year 1440—Shire Reckoning,

For days now, I have felt strangely. My appetite has diminished, attention flawed; highly uncharacteristic of an Elf, but then again, I am a mortal. My maids were concerned and I have witnessed them whispering amongst themselves. Hearing word of my infirmity, Eowyn came from Ithilien to see me, and since Faramir is in the East with Aragorn, is staying with me, along with darling Varda, now in her fifth year. Her head of her mother's golden hair shines in the sun as her blue eyes sparkle while she plays in the fragrance of the flowers, happily chasing butterflies. The fragrance and life has returned; spring has come. The leaves slowly become a lush green, though nothing like the golden mallorn of fair Lorien. Their quarters are lavishly furnished next to mine. Seeing my condition, Eowyn smiled knowingly, but would tell me nothing. She has now ushered me to the beautiful Houses of Healing, where she once dwelt for a brief period of time, back in the days of the War. It is lovely to see her walk within it, smiling and reminiscing to a time when all hope seemed to be lost, but she found her glimmer in the darkness-Faramir.
Upon our entrance, the Healers stood eagerly in line, welcoming with, "Greetings, Queen Arwen, how may we be of service on this pleasant day? Lady Eowyn, so fine to see you on this fair morn."
The old wise woman, Ioreth, now far into her twilight years looked down on Varda and smiled pleasantly, the smile of an old woman, a withered flower delighted to see a young girl waiting to blossom. "Legovanan, vinya quen. Manen enwina nasie?"*
The young girl smiled coyly, using one hand to cling to her mother, and with the other, held up five fingers.
"Ai! Hare heri,"* Ioreth smiled and motioned to take the young girl's hand, who glanced at her mother, who nodded approvingly, and took the old healer's hand. Eowyn and I smiled together, looking upon the old Healer, nearing the end of her years and the young maid, barely living a score of years upon this Earth, looking upon everything with a curious eye, aware of everything around her.
"What is ailing you, my lady?" the herbmaster asked politely. I informed him of my condition and after performing some tests, he smiled in the same fashion as Eowyn had.
"Well my dear lady, I shall check with the Master Healer, and will inform you soon," he left with a bow.
Eowyn and I sat down upon the beds and she talked joyously about her life in Ithilien with her love, Faramir and darling Varda.
Minutes later, the Master Healer came out from the coverings and bowed to me. I motioned for him to sit beside me, and he spoke slowly and his voice rumbled deeply, "Queen Arwen, I would like to inform you that we will soon be having a heir to the throne of Gondor. You are with child, my lady."
Pure elation rushed upon me as my heart flittered and I felt as if I could fly, as Earendil had, in days of old. A child! A child of my own! Hinya*! I felt myself trembling with joy and Eowyn took my hands in hers, and pressed them together. Finding no words to say, she took me into her embrace.
When we released each other, I found the Master Healer still standing there, waiting for instructions.
"Would you like a messenger to inform the King?" The King! Aragorn! How shall he fare with this news? I would think that he would be delighted, as it is high time for someone his age, even a descendent of Numenor to be a father and of course, he needs an heir.
"My Lady?" the Healer's voice broke through my thoughts.
"No. Do not. Do not inform anyone, and do not make this known to the people," I instructed. Both Eowyn and the Healer raised an eyebrow. "I wish to surprise them, especially the King."
"nasie, sive elye mere, herinya,*" he bowed, taking his leave.
"I am so excited for you!!" Eowyn uttered a small scream. I merely smiled, feeling I was still in a delusion.
"I do hope it's a maid," Eowyn added.
"A maid? Nay, a lad. A lad to look just like Estel and some of Elrohir and Elladan, perhaps," I dreamt.
"I suppose. Whatever you wish, my lady. What will you name him?"
"A name of old. Of Westernesse, of Numenor, or even of Aman, Valinor."
"Varda," Eowyn said inconspicuously.
"Or a name of the Rohirrim, one from your people. As I named darling Varda, you should name my son."
"Nay, certainly not, my Queen. This lad will be king. The people will not want a name that is not one of their own, nor that of the Horsemen."
"It will show our friendship with your people."
"My lady, there will be more children to come, and I shall name them, but not this one, not the first."
I sighed, "Well, I shall hold you to it then." She bowed and asked, "When is King Elessar returning? Faramir did not inform me in his last letter."
"I do not know for certain. They are in the East, beyond Mordor, with the Easterlings. I do not know when they will return," My eyes grew distant, "My heart hopes it will not be long." We walked together to the city wall, with six levels of the White City beneath us, and gazed at the East. How different it seems, without Oroduin crackling in flame in the distance, the Eye ever watchful. It is a land of peace.

* Legovanan, vinya quen. Manen enwina nasie?: Welcome, young one. How old are you?

* Ai Hare Heri!: Ah, nearly a lady!

*Hinya!: My child!

* "nasie, sive elye mere, herinye": May it be so, as you wish, my lady.