A/N: This story now has the same number of chapters as the first part did...! Eek! Anyways, I apologise for yet another late update, but hopefully the chapter will be good enough for said wait to be worthwhile. Also, PS: I just wanted to explain that, basically, I couldn't find a khuzdul version of 'Minas Tirith' anywhere so I kinda sorta had to go and make it up. 'Ashmar Zarakh' is used later by Dwalin, and means Guardian Tower. I figured this was good enough, since 'Minas Tirith' means Tower of the Guard. There may be a few more city names popping up, too - which I will have also semi-created for this story. :) PPS: The story behind the Argonath is different in book-canon and movie-canon, so I've kind of mixed the two... Anyway... Onwards!

Big thanks to the following people for following/favouriting: MicheleBran, AlmaB, NixiePixieStix, Alex-Is-A-Geek, aquakim, Tsubahime, p3anuts and LOLIcons10121

Review Response(s):

ro781727: True, but there's some plot development in other places, so I'm gonna have to jump back sometimes

RainAstiel: Yeah, that's probably what I'd do if I met them... Got to imagine they'd be pretty good teachers... XP Thanks for the kind words, as always!

JollyRoger1: Thanks :)

CheekyLittleFoxy: Haha, I'll think about it... ;)

'Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.' ~ George Bernard Shaw

Chapter 38:

Upon arriving in Minas Tirith, Alana learned that Thandir was, indeed, exaggerating about the flirtatious nature of the men in the city. They walked through the levels without being stopped, though Thandir was greeted by several people along the way. Many curious eyes followed the duo as they passed, likely unused to seeing a woman in the garb of a Ranger, and a Ranger of the north no less. Alana was used to such looks, so was unbothered by them, and was grateful that simple curiosity was the only response she seemed to get.

"Usually the Steward would not accept an audience with anyone without them first being invited," Thandir said as they passed through the gate that stood at the entrance to the sixth level of the city. "But I think for you he would make an exception."

Alana chuckled. "Ah, but you forget; I was invited."

"True, but remember you are not expected for another month," Thandir reminded her with a crooked grin. "And I certainly doubt he would have anticipated you riding ahead of your husband."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't think anyone expected that."

"Then you understand my point...?"

Alana chuckled. "Yes, Thandir, I understand your point. If I have to wait for an audience with the Steward, then so be it. It's of little consequence to me."

Thandir nodded. "So," he said at length, "answer something for me, if you could..." Alana cocked an eyebrow, wordlessly telling him to continue. "You've been married for how long now?"

Alana blinked. "Oh, umm... Since last July, so around nine months. Why?"

"Just curious," Thandir said with a shrug, though there was a twitch to the corner of his lips that gave away the fact his words were not quite honest. "And the baby, was it... intended...?"

Alana sent a deadpan look his way. "Is that really any of your business?"

Shrugging, and apparently unashamed by his curiosity, Thandir replied, "Not really, but you can't blame me for wanting to know."

Alana rolled her eyes, before grudgingly answering his question. "It was neither intended nor not. Thorin and I have no real need to have children, but it wasn't like we were taking any preventative measures to minimise the chance."

Thandir nodded slowly. "And... is your child going to become the next ruler?"

Alana shook her head. "No, Thorin's nephew is his heir, and that's how it will remain. We will ask that he passes the throne down to our child if we have a son, but honestly, it's his decision at that point. I don't think either of us would hold it against him if he wants to pass the throne to his own children."

They had reached the top level at this point, their path opening up onto the impressive, white courtyard set before the main citadel. Alana's eyes automatically sought out the dead, dry remains of the white tree of Gondor. She was aware of the guards eyeing her closely as she approached it, pressing her hand against the rough bark. It saddened her that this symbol of the Gondor of old was in such a state, but nonetheless still held hope that she might live to see it flower again.

She moved away from the tree and headed towards the citadel doors, which were made of darkened, aged wood. Alana was mildly surprised to see their were no guards standing by the doors, but figured that - when no one made a move to stop her - she wasn't breaking any rules by entering. Aware of Thandir standing a few feet behind her, Alana knocked on the door.

There was a moment of stillness, before the door let out a deep, loud groan, and began to open. She tilted her head in silent thanks to the guards who had opened the doors for her, moving into the palace building. She had never been here before, and couldn't help but let her eyes sweep over the features of the room.

It was darker than she'd anticipated. The great, black pillars holding up the room and the black details on the arches made it seem too dark and intimidating, and what little light filtered in through the windows seemed to only make the contrast between the pillars and white stone of the floor more stark. Still, the tall ceiling and the golden pattern in the hemisphere above the throne gave the room an undeniable sense of awe-inspiring grandeur.

The King's throne was raised, a set of steps leading up to it. At the base of the stairs, and to the left, was a smaller throne. Sat upon it with a piece of parchment in his hand was the Steward, Turgon. He was very old by the standards of men, but the House of Stewards had the blood of Númenor in their veins, and many were known to live long past a hundred years old. Still, he was showing signs of his age; his hair was completely greyed, and his skin was wrinkled. He still held himself with strength, however - a strength that belied the frailty of his body.

His eyes were neither warm nor cold as they watched Alana approach, Thandir having stopped by the door. "Not many would enter this hall without invite," the Steward said at length. "Fewer still would do so without a hint of fear or caution." A small smile flickered onto his face. "You wear the garb of a Ranger, though not one of my own. I welcome you, my Lady."

Alana bowed her head low, a smile that mirrored that of the Steward forming on her lips. "Thank you, my Lord. I hope you will forgive my intrusion."

Lord Turgon waved a dismissive hand. "Of course, of course. I have little else to do today but look at paperwork, and such a thing can become quite tedious over time."

"Don't I know it," Alana grumbled, causing the Steward to raise an eyebrow in silent question. Alana smiled again. "Apologies for my forwardness, but you did, in fact, invite me here. Only... you and I have not met before, and you expected me to be accompanied by a party of dwarves who are due to arrive in a little under a month."

Blinking, Lord Turgon eyed her for a moment, before realisation spread across his features. "...Queen Alana?" he asked, voice carrying little certainty.

With another bow, Alana replied, "At your service." Her grin was broader this time.

Turgon settled deeper into his chair, his expression suddenly unreadable. "You're right that I didn't expect to see you so soon," he noted blithely. "What caused you to leave the safety of your group?"

Alana had to bite back her sneer at the obvious implication that Turgon believed she needed to be looked after, reminding herself that these men had different views and values than the ones she had grown up alongside. "We encountered some wargs by the banks of the Anduin," she said, deciding to bend the truth a little. "We were without horses or ponies, and given my condition, Thorin thought it best that I travel ahead on the off-chance that the group have another encounter."

Turgon frowned. "Your condition?" he repeated curiously.

"I am with child, my Lord."

His eyebrows raked up. "With child?" he repeated, causing Alana to nod. "Congratulations, my Lady." Turgon bowed his head slightly, and Alana mirrored him. "I am surprised - though not displeased - that you decided to make the long journey here with such a prize under your heart." He smiled. "And when might the world expect the little one to be born?"

Alana tilted her head to the side. "Nine months or so," she replied. "Then again, it could be closer to six months. Thorin and I are unsure exactly how this pregnancy will go - whether it will be more similar to those of dwarves, or those of men."

Turgon smiled. "I'm sure you will be a wonderful mother, my Lady." He picked up his pieces of paper, gathered them into a pile, and then stood. "Come," he said at length, "let me give you a tour of the palace."

"Are you sure I am not interrupting you, my Lord?"

Turgon shook his head, chuckling lightly. "No, no, not at all. I have little to do of importance today, and ensuring your comfort is certainly a priority." He nodded to Thandir in the corner, silently dismissing him, and the Ranger disappeared out the door with a smile of farewell to Alana.

Alana accepted the escorting arm that Lord Turgon offered, and the two left the main hall of the palace together.

Thorin had been to Minas Tirith before, but never by this road. He'd heard of the wonders of the Argonath, of the tall stone statues that stood guard over the old borders of Gondor, but had never seen them before. To say they were a marvel would be an understatement. They towered a hundred metres above the river, two imposing guards that acted both as a warning and a deterrent to invading forces. Even where he was standing, on top of the sheer cliff on the eastern side of the river, the giant statue of Isildur rose high above his head.

Thorin didn't often feel particularly impressed with the craftsmanship of men, but he would openly admit that the Argonath could rival the best of dwarven stonework.

He became aware of a body next to him, and he tilted his head to the side to see Nyr there. He liked the guard well enough, though he had a feeling Alana had a better understanding of him. Nyr's guard shift was parallel with when Thorin was usually busy, whereas it would be the time that Alana would be making her way back to the royal quarter, so she had greater opportunity to talk to him. Whether the term 'friends' was appropriate for them yet, he wasn't sure, but he was nonetheless glad that Nyr seemed to appreciate Alana's kindness and respond in turn.

"Who are they?" Nyr asked him, clearly referring to the Argonath.

Thorin hummed. "Well, there's some debate. The one closest to us is, by all accounts, Isildur, the second High King of the Two Kingdoms. The statue furthest from us, however, is not so certain. Some claim it depicts Anárion, Isildur's younger brother. Others think it was built in the likeness of Elendil, Isildur's father." He hummed. "I suppose somewhere in Minas Tirith, there will be records of it, and the truth can be found there. Perhaps it was built in one way, but later changed." He gave a quiet chuckle. "That's the problem with history," he said, causing Nyr to shoot him a querying look. "You can never be completely certain of its accuracy."

"Do you ever wonder how you are going to be remembered?" Nyr asked, and Thorin blinked.

"I haven't thought about it, to be honest," he admitted. He paused for a moment, thoughtful. "I suppose I would like to be remembered in a positive way, but that is likely the same as anyone. When I am gone, I will not care how the world think on my deeds in life, and their views do not change the present. The only thing that matters to me is the here and now. I can only do that which I feel to be right at the time - I don't have time to worry whether future generations will see my actions in the same way that I do."

Nyr smiled. "I suppose that is one thing; you are the King of Durin's folk, and whether for good or ill, you will always be remembered. There's no such guarantee for the rest of us."

"Perhaps that is more of a blessing than you realise," Thorin said, tone serious. Then he blinked, cleared his thoughts, and clapped the guardsman on the shoulder. "Come," he said, raising his voice so the others could hear him. "We have idled here too long. With luck, we will reach the Amon Lhaw by nightfall. We make the descent past the falls in the morning."

The group moved on swiftly at Thorin's word, marching through the rough terrain with ease. They stuck close to the lake, as much as was possible, making their way down from the clifftops to walk on the stony shores on the lakeside. The darkness was setting in faster than Thorin had hoped - the hills to the west blocking much of the evening sunlight. They were a few miles north of Amon Lhaw's Seat of Hearing when Thorin called for them to halt, the late hour causing more than one grumbling stomach amongst their group.

They set up camp quickly, lighting a fire and getting some food roasting before they began to set out their bed rolls. While the others gathered around the fire, waiting impatiently for the food to be cooked, Thorin removed himself from the group. He made his way to the water's edge, standing with the ends of his boots a bare inch from the waterline. The Argonath couldn't be seen anymore, the sky too dark, but he could hear the rush of the Falls of Rauros to his left - a constant rumbling sound that was pleasantly calming.

His thoughts drifted away from his surroundings, and as they did a frown settled onto his face. Alana had been gone for a week now, and he was sure that she must have reached Minas Tirith at this point. He wondered what her welcome had been - had the Steward treated her as an honoured guest, as he should have done? Or had he turned her away, refusing to see her on the belief that she was just some common woman seeking his attention? He hoped it was the former, but he wasn't sure how far the Steward's hospitality would spread, given that it would still be half a month before the rest of them arrived in the city of men.

A throaty cawing caught his attention, and he looked up into the gloom. His eyes only barely managed to spot the movement of the raven above his head, and he lifted his arm in an invitation for it to land there. There was a letter tied to its leg - a reply from Fili, no doubt - and it stood still as he carefully untied it.

"You have done well, my friend," he told the raven, which tilted its head to him. "Rest for tonight. You have earned that much. But return in the morning, if you would. I should have something for you to return with by then." The raven let out a quick caw of what Thorin perceived to be agreement, before flapping its wings and disappearing into the gloom once more.

Thorin returned to the camp, the smell of cooking meat making his mouth water. Dwalin raised his eyebrows when he saw the letter in Thorin's hands, before turning back to his conversation with Makaylen. Thorin watched the two interact for a moment. He knew his friend respected the dam - she was a fast learner, and was always eager to keep going, to push herself right to her limit. "Not like those lazy, good-for-nothing nephews of yours," Dwalin had added once, though his tone had been fond. Dwalin always left a special place in his heart for the dwarves he trained. He got to know each of them individually, recognised both strengths and weaknesses within them. Thorin wasn't sure whether his fried was aware of it, but Dwalin always looked like a proud father when one of his students did well; Kili and Fili included. Given that the dwarf had stated in no uncertain terms that he no intention of taking a wife, or having kids, the friends he made from those he trained were the closest thing to family he could - and probably would - ever get. He wondered if Makaylen had realised that yet.

Seating himself by his pack, Thorin untied the letter he'd been sent and used to orange light of the fire to read it.

Uncle,

I hope you are all still in good health, although I'm sorry to hear about what happened with Alana. I'm sure you know this already, but she will undoubtedly be safer in Minas Tirith - away from people she can recklessly risk her own life to save. I don't know for sure when this will reach you, though by reckoning she should be in Minas Tirith by the time you read this, and I'd imagine you are somewhere near Nen Hithoel. You will have to tell us when you return if the Argonath live up to their legend.

King Thranduil sent an invitation out to us a few days ago. He wants to meet us in Mirkwood - well, he wants to meet me, but mother is insisting that I take Kili with me to keep him from going insane from boredom (her words, not mine). We are to leave in two days. It will be interesting to see Mirkwood again, though I hope this time we will avoid the dungeons.

I admit, what I am going to tell you next is not something I wish to inform you of through a letter. I wish you were here to hear it from me directly, but needs must, I suppose. No doubt you remember the little gem that Nori found in Alana's room after someone tried to kill her. Well, the other day, he spotted the dress that the gem belonged to, hanging up in a market store. As I write this, he's trying to track down the owner, though from what I can tell it's something of a long trail. The dress has been sold and bought several times in the last few months, so finding who possessed it last year is proving tricky. Still, I know he'll keep looking into it. I'll do my best to keep you informed of any findings.

Your nephew,
Fili

P.S. Did I tell you before that Kili's beard is finally starting to grow out? Because I'm beginning to worry it'll be thicker than mine by the time you make it back home.

Thorin released a long sigh, running his hands down his face. As was often the case these days, Fili's letter left him with very mixed feelings. On the one hand, he was glad that Thranduil was still making an effort to maintain their rocky alliance, and that Fili was willing to do the same. He was also glad that they were finally back on the trail of the woman who had attacked Alana so many months ago. But he was also conflicted. A small part of him had hoped that the whole mess had been put behind them. It was true that no one had been brought to justice, but Alana had regained her strength in the end, with no long-lasting problems. But there was no avoiding it this time; they finally had a thread to pull on, and he wanted the attacker found. He wondered how long it would take to find her. He wondered whether he'd be returning home to find the dam still hidden, or if she'd be rotting away in the dungeons of the mountain, awaiting the punishment he decided her actions warranted.

"Bad news?" Dwalin asked, seating himself beside his King and handing him a plate of steaming meat. Thorin wordlessly passed Dwalin the letter, letting him read through it. By the end, his friend was looking just as conflicted as he felt. At length, the warrior released a long sigh. "Do you think we should tell her?"

Thorin didn't have to ask to know who he was talking about. It was a question he hadn't really thought to consider. "I don't know," he admitted. "If we tell her, it could cause her undue stress or worry, which may be dangerous given her pregnancy. But, on the other hand-"

"This bastard made an attempt on her life and she deserves to know," Dwalin finished, Thorin nodding along. "Well, at least you don't have to make the decision now. We've still a couple weeks to go before we reach Ashmar Zarakh. Just be sure to let me know once you decide."

Thorin nodded again. "I will." Then, a smile twitched onto his face. "Did you read the last bit?"

Chuckling, Dwalin nodded. "Aye, that I did. It's about time Kili got some hair on 'im. Not sure I agree that Fili has to worry about him being overtaken, though."

Humming, Thorin tilted his head to the side. "Do you remember when Kili started having his first growth spurts?"

"Oh, aye. Lad started growing as fast as a weed."

"Whereas Fili's growth was slower, and over a greater amount of time," Thorin reminded him. "Perhaps this will be similar."

Dwalin chuckled. "Well, if that's the case, maybe Fili does have cause for concern. After all, if his little brother is taller than him..."

Thorin smiled along with him, finally turning his attention to his food and ripping into the meat. "I wonder how the trip to Mirkwood will turn out."

Dwalin shrugged. "They both seem amiable enough last time 'round." Thorin shot him a perplexed look, and the dwarf laughed again. "Well, Kili spent a fair amount of time talking to that elven lass, Tauriel. Not sure I'd go so far as to call them friends, but they seemed to get on alright. And Fili spent some time talking to the elven Prince, since he was the one to deliver Alana's letters from your sister. Again, I don't think they're close, but I think Fili respects him, if nothing else."

"Prince Legolas is wandering the wild at present, as far as I know," Thorin told his friend, pulling off another piece of meat. "And neither has yet gone face-to-face with Thranduil in a... diplomatic environment."

Dwalin made a show of rolling his eyes. "They'll be fine, Thorin," he said with surety. "Probably better than you would in their shoes." Once again, Thorin raised his eyebrows. "Well," Dwalin reminded him pointedly, "they don't have the centuries-old hatred of him that you do."

Thorin nodded at that, silently agreeing. Though to call it hatred was not so accurate anymore - he could be civil with Thranduil, and he could often see the benefits of their allegiance with one another unfolding before his eyes. Still, he often delegated the task greeting and dealing with the elf King to Alana, as standing in Thranduil's mere presence still caused his hackles to instinctively raise. Baby steps, Alana's voice suddenly piped up, and he knew she was right.

"I miss them," Thorin admitted quietly, gaze aimed towards the fire, though he wasn't unaware of the way Dwalin's head was tilted in his direction. "I know they have their duties, same as the rest of us, but... I wish they were here."

Dwalin clapped Thorin in the shoulder, his King finally turning to meet his eyes. "I know you do, lad," the warrior said softly. "I do, too. So does Alana, I'm sure. But the quicker we get this done, the quicker we can go back to them, and you'll have all the time in the world to make up for this time lost."

Thorin nodded, raising his own arm and placing his hand on Dwalin's shoulder, giving it a quick, firm squeeze. "Thank you, my friend. I am glad to have you here."

Dwalin grinned crookedly. "I'd rather be nowhere else. Even if you are a grumpy ass sometimes."

That was the first time in several days that the group heard a genuine bark of laughter leave Thorin's lips.