I've always marveled at how impressive the Gondorian kings' genealogy was because it so detailed and yet there is nothing actually written about it (anything canonical that is). Anyways, it's while I was browsing it that I got the idea for this fic (that's where I got the idea for Along the Shores after all). I'm always so happy to find a canonical female character with an actual name and well, Arvedui and Fíriel do have an interesting story.

So just to sum up what's going on, Arvedui is the son of Araphant, the king of Arthedain (one of three kingdoms created after the fragmentation of Arnor) and that makes him a direct descendant of Isildur. Fíriel is the daughter of Ondoher, the king of Gondor, so a direct descendant of Anárion. The two kingdoms were estranged for some time, but they decided to join forces again to fight Angmar and the Wainriders (spoilers, it failed…). Oh and back then Minas Tirith was still called Minas Anor and Minas Morgul was still Minas Ithil.

Arvedui is around 76 at the time of the story and Fíriel is 44, but since they have quite a long lifespan (around 180), I thought of them as being 37-38 and 20. As in, they're still young (especially Fíriel) but there is a significant age gap between them.

Enough for the explanations, please enjoy the story!

Again, all credits to Professor Tolkien.

North & South

Chapter 1 - A New Alliance

T.A. 1939

Fíriel had always lived with the knowledge that she would not chose her husband, or at least that her choice would be limited to a handful lords from Gondor's finest families. It had never bothered her much, for it was the fate of most princesses and she trusted her parents to find a suitable husband, with whom she would be happy. If she was lucky enough, she may even fall in love with that man, although romance was something she had given up long ago – it was something solely found in books and songs. Overall, Fíriel had no particular expectations and she thought a good man would be sufficient, as long as she stayed not far from her own family.

And until she was announced she was to wed Arvedui, son of Araphant, king of Arthedain, it had never even crossed her mind she would not dwell in Minas Anor her entire life. She had been aware new negotiations between the two kingdoms were ongoing and that it was related to the Wainriders and Angmar, yet nothing had suggested it would have such an impact on her personal life.

Her father and mother were not too keen on the idea that their only daughter, their youngest child, was to be sent so far away. King Ondoher had felt it would be better to first ask Fíriel if she was willing to go to Arthedain as he was asking for a rather big sacrifice from her part. Yet Fíriel had said yes, she had agreed to help seal the alliance, without hesitation. She had never hoped to be able to help her father defend their lands against the Wainriders and she was proud to be assigned her own mission, in these dark times. If all it took for Gondor and Arthedain to join forces was one wedding, then there was no reason for her to refuse.

It had seemed a very sensible thing to do – till she had had to say good bye to her family, on the first day of September. The betrothal was to take place in Spring, and the wedding was to follow quickly during the Summer, but Fíriel had required she was given some time to get acquainted with her new home in Fornost, and with the man she was to spend the rest of her life with.

Thus, in the span of a few weeks, her life had been turned upside down. Fast, so fast it had happened, and bidding farewell to Gondor felt bitter, for she had never known loneliness before.

Upon her arrival in Arthedain, Fíriel had been warmly welcomed by the Queen whose smile and kind words had managed to make her forget how gloomy Fornost had appeared at first.

The fortress was quite an impressive sight to behold: it had been built on the slopes of the North Downs and it was encircled by high walls and a few towers made of fine grey marble. Large oak gates marked the entrance of the city and the paved streets Fíriel went through to reach the halls of the King gave her a good preview of northern architecture. Statues and carvings were pretty indeed, and slate roofs were an interesting feature, yet Fíriel thought Fornost was too dark, too narrow. For someone born and raised in Gondor, nothing could really compare to lofty Minas Anor, to the Citadel, the White Tower and Mount Mindolluin – everything was greater there.

However, once she had been introduced to the Queen, who quickly linked her arm to hers and lead her to her new chambers, Fíriel wondered if her bad impression of Fornost was just due to the rain and the cloudy weather.

"Fíriel, my dear Fíriel, how glad I am that you made it safely to our lands," Queen Gilwen was saying, as they walked through the corridors of the palace. "Our halls feel a little empty for now, I'm afraid. As you know, my husband and my son have gone to patrol the borders and they shall not be back before another fortnight at least."

"I was told so, indeed."

"It might be disappointing not to meet your betrothed today, yet I believe it is a good thing you have time to settle in before Arvedui comes back."

"I suppose," said Fíriel, nodding. And it was true she felt relieved she would not have to talk about the wedding so soon.

"I hope it won't be long before you feel comfortable here, dear Fíriel," said the Queen, gently patting her arm.

I hope so too, thought Fíriel, suppressing a sigh – she was already homesick.

The following days, Fíriel tried to convince herself it was the rain that was affecting her mood or that it was the lingering chill that made her so weary. She blamed the foreign dishes for her lack of appetite, her new bed for her lack of sleep and the harsh wind for her tears. However, her grief – for it really was grief – was caused by something else, something she did not want to face. Fíriel was alone in Fornost, as none of her Gondorian friends had come with her. A few of them had agreed to move in Arthedain for her sake, yet they would not arrive before Spring when the betrothal would be celebrated.

In the meanwhile, she had to befriend the ladies the Queen had kindly introduced to her, in the hope they would keep company to the Gondorian princess. It should have been considered an honor to be part of her suit, yet somehow the ladies of Fornost were not especially enthusiastic about Fíriel's presence among them. They never were once rude with her, on the contrary, they lacked no good manners. They greeted her, rather cheerfully, giggling a little as only maidens would, and they always left the best seat – the one nearest the hearth – available for her. But that was it, aside from politeness, there was no genuine concern, no sympathy, no a thought about her. As soon as they were done with formalities, they would resume their needlework, chatting happily, and most of the time they gossiped about people Fíriel knew not. They became oblivious of her, as if she was part of the furniture, and it was in moments like these that Fíriel felt utterly helpless. She did wonder if any of them had hoped to be betrothed to Prince Arvedui, which might explain why they excluded her this way, but she never inquired about it to the Queen, nor to anyone else.

During these first weeks, she came up as cold and haughty to many, although she was unaware of it. Fíriel did her best to get acquainted with the court and its customs, yet she was soon overwhelmed and some names she forgot, some titles she omitted, some habits she overlooked. It was quite puzzling that these Northerners were so alike to Gondorians in looks and speech, and so different too in their ways. Perhaps cold weather had toughened them, or perhaps the proximity of Rivendell and Lindon had instilled solemnity to their minds.

Fíriel did find some solace in the kindness Queen Gilwen displayed towards her. She was easy to talk to and caring, although she had not much time to devote to her future daughter-in-law. In the absence of her husband and son, she was the one in charge of current affairs and that kept her very busy. When she did spend the evening with Fíriel, it was ever pleasant, and she always was very delicate when dealing with matters related to the upcoming wedding. Once only did she make a peculiar remark about prince Arvedui, one that Fíriel kept in mind for a long time.

"I'm afraid my son has never showed any interest in matrimonial matters," had confessed the Queen. "As for courtship, I presume it has happened however… What I wish to say is that he may appear slightly gruff to you at first, since he has spent so little time in the company of ladies."

And sensing Fíriel's growing dismay, she had added, "Arvedui is a fine man and mayhap his speech is not as gallant as that of some others, yet he treats everyone with great respect, whether they are wealthy lords or humble peasants."

It was the only words of this type Fíriel heard from the Queen and she was relieved it did not last long, for it made her anxious. However gentle, noble or faithful lord Arvedui could be, he was first and foremost a complete stranger, as well as a mature man, of some 30 years older than her. The blood of Westernesse did flow in his veins, like in hers, which meant he was still vigorous, but this age gap did worry her – among many other things.

Sometimes, when Fíriel felt too overwhelmed, she would skip needlework – a pastime she had no special interest in – and go to the tall house next to the stables, where the men who had rode with her from Gondor stayed. They were people who had served her father for many years and with them she was at ease, for she needed not pretending to be someone else. Together they usually played cards and the oldest of these men inquired about her living conditions, making sure she was well fed and treated with the respect her rank commanded. Every time, Fíriel assured them there was nothing she could complain about, even though it was lie, and she was thankful for their fatherly concern. Truth was, it always made her a little sad to have to leave them.

It was during one of these visits that she first encountered prince Arvedui, although she did not actually see him and neither did he see her. He was supposed to be back to Fornost any days, yet none could tell the exact date and in the end Fíriel was left ignorant of the details concerning his arrival. Thus she never expected to come across him unexpectedly.

That day, before going back inside the palace, she had wished to linger a while in the stables, as she missed riding so much – she missed riding with her brothers even more. She had always loved horses greatly and she was patting a beautiful white stallion when she heard some voices. Some men were approaching and she could tell they were not squires, so she quickly hid behind a pile of hay bales. It was a foolish reflex, but she was glad she had done so when she soon understood it was Arvedui himself who was in the middle of talk with one of his friends.

"What can you tell me, Cirion?"

"Not much, my Lord… My sister says she joins the other ladies in the afternoon, however she never takes part in any discussion, to the point that some had assumed she was mute. I myself have not heard much from her, aside from greetings and a few banalities. She does seem proud, or perhaps she really is shy, nonetheless I wonder if she has anything to say at all."

"I hardly could believe a Gondorian princess would not have received an excellent education."

"Perhaps, it is also not impossible she did not retain much from it."

"What of my mother?"

"From what I glimpsed during dinners, they get along well enough. Or they appear to, at least."

"Good… with the shadows of Angmar lurking at our frontier, the princess shall probably spend more time with her than with me."

"Rather convenient, is it not?"

"I do not mind being wedded… Whether it is with this one or with another does not matter to me. I have never met a woman of my liking and should I keep waiting for it to happen, I might never wed and father an heir. It is a good thing, then, that this matter is settled."

"I suppose I could not expect a less pragmatic answer from you, my Lord."

"It is simply another one of my responsibilities as a prince of Arthedain."

And after that, they left the stables and Fíriel could not hear anymore what they were saying. But she cared not, she knew enough about the prince's feelings for the moment, and she wondered how she would find the courage to face him when they would officially meet for the first time. Now that it was so plain he cared not about her, like most of the lords and ladies in Fornost apparently, she feared she would never be able to play her part in the alliance sealed between Arthedain and Gondor. Being a good ambassador for her father was perhaps the only thing she believed she could do well…

Queen Gilwen had had the good idea of introducing them to one another in private, in her own parlor. She knew her son was not one to love big crowds, and Fíriel was still intimidated by the court, thus she wished to spare them any further embarrassment. It was already unconventional they were to be betrothed so fast, without having time for proper courtship, so there really was no need to burden them any more.

Upon looking at him, Fíriel first thought there was something familiar about him, for his silhouette was not so unlike her father's or her brothers'. He was a tall man, wonderfully tall, as only an heir of Elendil could be, and he was slender, yet sturdy. Handsome was perhaps not the best word to describe him, but there was majesty in his grey gaze and wisdom on his brow. It was easy to tell he spent more time out riding in the wild than idling in Fornost: his dark hair and beard were unkempt and there was still some dirt under his nails – although he was much cleaner now than he had been a few hours ago. His hands were surely the hands of someone who was not afraid to get the work done and Fíriel was impressed by that.

She fought not to shrink in front of him and even managed to bow most graciously. He returned the favor, a bit stiffly, looking at her straight in the eyes, his expression unreadable.

"Lady Fíriel, I hope your stay in our halls has been pleasant so far," he said, "and please let me apologize for not having been here myself to welcome you when you arrived."

"I assure you there is no reason for you to apologize, my Lord. I understand there were more pressing matters you had to deal with, it is only natural you had had this sorted before coming back here." She felt relieved common courtesies flew so easily out of her mouth – old reflexes did not let her down.

"Rest assured I shall do my best to remain at your side until the celebration of our wedding."

"I am deeply grateful for this, my Lord." And Fíriel did not know anymore what to say, wondering if it would not be uncalled-for to ask him about his expedition to the north-east border of the kingdom. Her presence in Arthedain was, after all, a direct consequence of the on-going war against Angmar and now she was to fear the Witch-King more than the Wainriders.

"Fíriel, come sit by my side," said Queen Gilwen, patting the seat next to hers. "I have asked our dinner to be served in here so we have all evening to talk."

Fíriel uttered a thank, wishing the food would come fast so she would have something to do with her hands.

"Arvedui, my dear, I ordered the cook to prepare some ducks from lake Evendim," the Queen told him and, turning to Fíriel, she added, "It is among his favorite meals and he enjoys it even more when he is back from long travels."

"Centuries have passed since our people have deserted Annúminas, but we still go there every now and then during hunt season," said Arvedui, as he sat in front of Fíriel and his mother. "When your brothers come, perhaps I should bring them there, for they shall enjoy it immensely, I daresay."

"They are quite fond of hunting, indeed," Fíriel answered. And so am I, she thought, but this had probably not crossed Arvedui's mind.

"What hunting area is most sought-after in Gondor?"

"There are many, but the people of Minas Anor favor Anórien and Ithilien." She was about to say she had often joined her father and brother's hunting parties, but she was interrupted when the parlor's door flew opened.

Servants were bringing plates, as well as some drinks, and Queen Gilwen chuckled happily.

"Arvedui, there are surely other things we could discuss, aside from hunting," she said, with a smile. "Mayhap Fíriel is curious about winter in our lands, since the weather is milder in Gondor."

"It snows a lot," was all Arvedui could think of and he took a sip of wine, to spare himself a longer comment.

Fíriel drank too, for she did not know what sort of witty remark she could make about cold and snow – it was still a dreadful prospect to her.

Hopefully the Queen was resourceful and whenever she had had the occasion of meeting Southerners, she had always enjoyed describing at length what winter was like in Arthedain. "Of course, it snows a lot, and there are storms too. On some days, the wind blows so hard, none of are men dares passing the city's wall and feet of snow obstruct the roads. Yet our people are strong and they face these hardships without any complaint,

And she went on for minutes, till the main course was brought to them. Thankfully the duck was delicious and all their attention seemed to focus on this, putting an end to the endless chatter of the Queen. But as much as the food and the wine were excellent, dinner proved to be disappointing, both for Fíriel and Arvedui. They had no real occasion to talk and their exchanges were limited to trivial matters – neither of them were very good at it.

Queen Gilwen had meant well, yet this first meeting was far from being fruitful. When Fíriel finally retired into her chambers, she felt weary and disheartened. She doubted she could even be an ambassador for her father, since prince Arvedui probably believed her to be dimwitted by now.

Cirion had been right, Fíriel was quite a discreet lady and she would only talk if she was addressed directly. But Arvedui did not believe for a second that her silence was the result of haughtiness or silliness and he thought the chamberlain was a fool not to have perceived Fíriel's feelings. While she tried to hide it, it was obvious she was scared and confused, longing for her home and her family. And he was conscious that despite his title he was not exactly the bachelor all ladies were swooning over. He was too taciturn and there was the prophecy also: who would want to marry the last king?

What Cirion had not been said however, was that Fíriel was pretty – probably because he did not think of her that way. Indeed, she was not the typical Dúnedain beauty, for there were a few quirks about her, but overall it made her look even more charming. Her brown hair was a few shades lighter than the black color that was usually considered most desirable and she was a bit short, but what was surprising were her freckles, something considered unconventional among nobility. Her eyes, though, were grey and sparkling, being her true inheritance of her father's line, and they were the only characteristic she seemed to share with Arvedui.

Her being comely did not bring him any particular joy, it was a mere observation. The qualities he was hoping to find in her had nothing to do with her outward appearance and one meeting would not tell him much about her character. But he was not too optimistic, for he believed that once shyness had worn off Fíriel would just turn out to be like most ladies he knew, fond of sewing and gossip, and not very interested by him and his fights.

"Arvedui…" said Queen Gilwen, interrupting his musings.

"Yes, Mother?"

"I know you would have rather chosen your spouse yourself, but do be kind with her," pleaded the Queen.

"Was I not perfectly courteous tonight?"

"You were indeed. Yet Fíriel is more affected than you by this situation and 'courteous' might not be enough to make her feel home in Fornost."

"I shall try my best, Mother." In all honesty, he was unsure there was anything he could do, for he had no clue what would help the princess settle. And was it not her maids' duty to take care of this sort of things?

To him, the wedding was purely political as Arthedain was in dire need of the assistance of Gondor in the war against Angmar. He was not so unhappy it also meant he would have an heir in the years to come, although he had not forgotten the prophecy – what land would his son rule after his death? Yet he brushed away these concerns, for whatever awaited the kingdom of Arthedain, he was convinced the line of Isildur would outlive it. And even though he had been mildly impressed by Fíriel, she still was a descendant of Anárion, and perhaps it was what he liked best about her so far.