Arwen woke up still being in complete darkness, with a splitting headache and another few bruises and cuts more from tossing and turning on the rough ground while unconscious. As soon as she could think somewhat clearly again, she tried to sit up to escape the rock's low temperatures that made her body downright shake thanks to its recently growing sensitivity.
Her twisted position, lying on her side, had caused her arms and legs to go to sleep though, so she had to loosen them with careful muscle movements first. The gradually worse pain from the rib she'd sprained in Rohan also made it hard to stir; it made her breathing much too heavy and left her forehead covered in sweat, her face contorted by wrath. She had to get out of here, dammit ... Her chances to free herself were shrinking more with every passing hour. The restraints had numbed her hands too much to untie the knot; under the rope, her wrists were burning from first infections. The unpleasant heaviness from the blows against her head and her dehydration prevented her from properly focusing on the next steps. Arwen had last had a little water before the kidnapping. If she didn't get some more soon, things might possibly look bad for her.
It wasn't like the cave wasn't moist enough, disgustingly so, to be exact. The continuous quiet rush close by indicated the presence of a waterfall but as long as Arwen couldn't even sit up without the world spinning around her, the odds of finding her way there with her eyes blindfolded were very bad. Apparently, she didn't have a choice but to wait for her kidnappers' next move for now.
That first coughs starting to interrupt her breathing made that almost even worse than her injuries did, or the feeling of guilt about what Aragorn was surely going through because of her right now. The very first airway infection of her life was the most recent and the clearest sign that she could no longer rely on the special powers of an elvish body. Now she wasn't even immune to sicknesses that usually befell only members of other free folks anymore. That cold she had caught in her sodden dress without a doubt. The bitter thought crossed Arwen's mind that once they would free her – in the foreseeable future, hopefully –, wedding plans would probably be put on ice again right away because she would have to keep to her bed for a while first.
Steps approaching the entrance of the room she was being trapped in – judging by the echo, hardly bigger than twenty or thirty square feet –, provided her at least with enough energy to finally pick herself up, leaning back against the wall. If she could avoid it, she wouldn't crawl at these pathetic men's feet. "If you still think I'll tell you anything about the King, don't waste your time."
The dryness of her throat partly robbed her voice of her usual strength, but she still didn't let it show with even one syllable that the helpless situation - one that she hadn't ever been in before in all of her long life as a soldier - agitated her. She certainly wouldn't grant these people that triumph. Besides, it was much too early to get upset. There was no doubt that her beloved had already sent out his best men to track her down. She just had to remain stubborn.
The guy standing in front of her didn't seem to understand that yet; in any case, she was being yanked to her feet once more. More weakened by a lack of water and food than she liked already, Arwen had a hard time keeping up with the man's hasty steps. She was more being dragged along by her elbow than walking herself.
The henchman didn't address her, though. That was the job of the man from last time.
"I hope you slept well and had enough time to think about your behavior." The leader knelt down next to her as soon as she was back on the ground, and braced himself firmly on her battered side so she couldn't get up immediately but had to stifle sounds of pain. "Your King really does seem to be quite important to you, seeing as you choose to suffer in beauty for him so passionately."
Arwen used what little strength she had pushed into her arms that had become so immobile in the last few seconds, and rolled to the side, out from under the guy's fist, straightening up on her knees with bared teeth. "Every upright citizen of Gondor in my place would remain just as silent, so you should rather reconsider your plans. This land has waited centuries for its king. All the people are backing him."
"I bet if you asked one or two farmers or soldiers in Arnor, they would have a different story to tell." Her opponent snorted cynically through his nose.
For a moment, Arwen wondered if maybe that was it … if that rebel came maybe from the North. That realm had indeed only expressed the most necessary basic solidarity with Aragorn's newly begun reign so far, by nothing more than a little enthusiastic letter from the biggest city. But the accent didn't match that; that came from this area around here.
"Besides, anyone else's opinion doesn't matter to me. I rather want to know more about the pretty bird that our precious King likes to travel with." The man provocatively caressed her hair, then her stomach, unexpectedly, before she had even really flinched.
With the strength of newly rising anger that now truly knew no limit anymore, Arwen made it to get to her feet, to take two steps backward before she bumped into one of the walls, isolated a lot better than her cell with thick, soft blankets. A change of her position for the worse only at first glance, only for someone who wasn't aware of an elf's experience even with difficult battle situations.
"You touch me one more time, then you don't even need to bother hoping for a quick end by Andúril's blade anymore. Then the Lord of Imladris and his family will personally make sure, you're yearning for such an easy death."
The man had only hoarse laughter to spare for her threats. "Such unfriendly words from the lips of a lady of the court. You seem to be in desperate need of someone teaching you some Gondorian manners."
Her tormentor hadn't even approached her yet when Arwen pushed herself away from the wall with all her strength, using the momentum to knock the man off balance. She even made it to firmly kick him in the side before the second guy, in his complete surprise, made it to get to her and ram her clumsily.
Arwen's chest hit the hefty logs of a fortunately unlit fireplace. For a moment, all she could see was white spots dancing before her eyes from how badly her injured side throbbed. Panting for air, coughing, she tried to straighten up again, but in her growing dizziness, she fell onto her back instead. A more startled than scared scream tore from her sore throat when the cool metal of a blade grazed her belly. After her getting injured at the Black Gate, a feeling far too well-known. For a moment, she was convinced that she had gone too far, that the men had lost patience with her and just wanted to gut her here and now ...
For now, though, it was fortunately only her dress on the receiving end of a gaping tear. Bad enough. "Take your dirty hands off me!"
"Why suddenly so modest?" The leader shoved her back before she could even sit up, on elbows that didn't quite want to support her anymore. "I doubt you're giving your lover so much trouble. Speaking of it, are you just one of the many mistresses that a ruler keeps, or do you have the dubious honor of being the only one in his bed?"
The ongoing provocations drew only hard laughter from Arwen's lips. In her career on battlefields, she had had to listen to orcs, and human henchmen of the Dark Lord as well, telling her worse. As long as she managed to keep such primitive beings at arm's length, such words had long stopped getting to her. You best answered those with innuendos just as lewd anyway.
"Does that bother you? You're starting to disappoint me. Next, you're going to tell me, you just don't like it that the ladies are so fond of the King. Maybe you should try charm instead of armed force next time. I'm sure even you will find a lover then."
Arwen took advantage of her opponent's noticeable surprise about her impassiveness to roll away from him as far as possible once more. But she was immediately grabbed by one of her already battered wrist and pressed into the ground, face-first into the sharp-edged rock this time, which left her with additional abrasions.
"You see, usually I get what I want anyway. You'll realize that soon. Your resistance is entertaining though, I'll have to give you that. I begin to understand why the King has so much fun with you that he even grants you the merits of life in the Citadel."
With one arm pressed against her shoulder blades, the man traced the side of Arwen's neck with his blade where the untreated wound from her kidnapping was located already. "Still, I have no interest in getting acquainted with you closely; I already told you that. I'm really not asking too much, do I? Just tell us about your relationship with that primitive Ranger. Then we'll take you back to our little nice guest room, so you can keep wondering if he deems the pleasures you give him worth saving you."
He withdrew just enough to turn Arwen on her back so that she could breathe again, then the blade was on her throat once more. "Talk. Now. Or do you want to risk me having to cheek myself if that primitive knocked you up already?"
"I will have to disappoint your exuberant imagination, unfortunately," Arwen gasped out between coughs that were gradually getting worse. Maybe for the first time since the attack at the city gate, she felt a touch of fear. If she couldn't stall the guy, she might leave this base with injuries far worse than a few light bleedings. "Honorable people of the West value tradition. And the King has more decency in his little finger than all of your people together."
It was the pure irony of fate that due to her war injury, Arwen couldn't even have been pregnant if Aragorn and she had indeed – like they almost had in Imladris after the wedding – ever lost all control of themselves. And that these circumstances might soon even be the reason for a she-elf not becoming the Queen of this country after all, in case Aragorn would decide that he couldn't bring himself to have a child with someone else outside his marriage and rather leave Arwen altogether. Not that Arwen would let these bastards in on any of that.
"You'll understand I have to doubt that, seeing as you have spent so many weeks together with our oh-so-honorable ruler in the wilderness. We don't take any risks about that vagabond being the last one that we need to wipe out, who can claim a throne that hasn't been required in Gondor for eternities anymore. Why do you make this so hard for yourself? Just tell us the truth …" Her kidnapper pressed the dagger a little harder against her bloodstained skin.
When Arwen yanked her head to the side with a hiss because she could feel the wound breaking open again, her tormentor's free hand grabbed her throat and squeezed tight so that now she could hardly pass air through her hurting throat at all anymore. "Apparently don't want it any other way." The guy tore her dress open even further and let her feel the deadly threat of multiply sharpened steel once more, almost lovingly, before he cut her for the first time. So lightly – for now – that it only left a thin rivulet of blood but that was enough to rock Arwen's composure.
After using the short moment of lying still to push as much strength as possible into her muscles, she brought her knee up. The angle was too bad to hit anything but the man's lower back, but that she did so well that now it was he who let out a noise of pain. Letting go of her, he had to brace himself against the wall so he wouldn't fall over.
That had been damn risky; she could just as well have caused the second dagger to pierce her lower belly before she even knew. But luckily for her, the guy seemed to have good reflexes and calm hands.
And the latter was exactly what Arwen had to feel on her again immediately, before she could do more than push herself to her feet, trembling harder from the highly dangerous situation than she wanted to admit even to herself. Again, the relentless grip on her throat; again, the blade – for a moment, she was fully convinced that this insane man would cut her throat for real now.
But then it felt like the noticeably strong built body was being dragged away from her, so unexpectedly that the man dropped his weapon. "What …?"
The guy who had taken Arwen here earlier suddenly seemed to feel remorse. "We need her, don't we? She can't talk if she's dead. I think she says the truth, now at the latest. Elves do cling desperately to their lives."
"What, you have mercy with the King's whore now?" The older man sounded as if he wanted to knock down his colleague next for his thoughtless move. "Very well. Since you two are getting along so well, you're very welcome to make sure yourself that this primitive won't ever be reproducing at all."
Arwen was suddenly even colder than before, realizing that this was far from being over. Driven by even stronger restlessness now, she retreated against the wall again, feverishly considering if she could maybe get away from the men by a swift run while they were debating. Relying on the guys' steps, she thought herself able to assess the cave anatomy well enough by now …
But it was the leader's young accomplice again who protected her before Arwen had decided yet if she should take the high risk of an escape attempt.
"Then you might as well just kill her. If we break her, she'll cooperate even less! And many elves die from such things; my grandfather told me that. I'm not in on that; no one said anything about that. Besides, we need all the information she has about the King's chambers if we want our big strike to be successful! She'll start talking at some point, don't worry."
The man only breathed an audible sigh of relief when his leader snorted angrily and hurried off.
"Since you suddenly seem to be our big expert for these pretty, devious bastards, make sure, she does so soon. Or you'll be the one who cuts her throat in the end, I guarantee that."
For long seconds the man hesitated as if he was afraid to touch Arwen after that more than unpleasant scene.
Finally, he pulled himself together and grabbed her elbow again, a lot gentler than before, to guide her back to the much cooler adjoining room.
It took Arwen a lot of effort to not tremble under his sweaty hand even once.
That had been damn close. She could only hope that whoever was looking for her would hurry up.
The two riders leaving Minas Tirith, wrapped in long cloaks despite the rising temperatures, attracted far less attention than expected, so Faramir could go back to the Citadel in relief, to inform the advisor council.
The Princess of Eryn Lasgalen and the unapproachable Imladris elf who had hardly left Aragorn's side since the coronation had vanished as quickly as they had shown up.
Instead, Faramir met the last remaining wedding guest in the courtyard who just seemed to be getting ready to leave, fastening a single bag to the elegant neck of his snow-white horse. Like at every farewell of this kind, Faramir's heart clenched painfully. If there was one person he wished to have by his side as a regular advisor, it was the wizard who'd been one of his closest friends ever since he had been a little child. Unfortunately, there was also no one who came to see him as rarely and unpredictably.
He forced himself to smile and came to stand next to Shadowfax. "Has the wanderer heard the call of freedom again?"
"For centuries, my friend, but the time of retirement in the west has not come yet for me." Gandalf returned his smile with the usual, reserved smirk under his flowing beard.
"I need to try and get to the bottom of the disappearance of Lord Elrond's daughter. So far, she's doing relatively well, I can feel that, and I can usually rely on such feelings. But I'll stay close. Even if this crisis is solved quickly, the next surely isn't far as long as these King's enemies exist. There's much to do still before I can take my leave someday."
"These are our worries though. We've been blocking your road for far too long as it is. I just hope …" Faramir paused because he suddenly felt stupid, like a little boy who was asking for his father. Something Faramir had already given up on early in his life.
And this was a simple truth: Gandalf's job in these realms had been fulfilled since the end of the war. He long deserved his peace in a better place, no matter how much that hurt those he left behind.
When that day came, Faramir wanted to be ready at least. "Will I see you again before you go?"
"How could I just leave my most curious pupil alone?" The wizard laughed quietly and gave Faramir a pat on the back. "That ship in the harbor can wait for me another few years. But you know, Faramir, actually, you don't need me anymore. In the past, I would have seen the despair in your eyes in a moment like this. What I see now is drive. You're the heart of these lands, not only when the King is being drawn far away from here like he is today. Still, before the Undying Lands will call for me one day, we will shake hands for the last good-bye; that I promise you. And until then, there might still be one or two common adventures waiting for us that the horizon has not revealed yet."
Faramir stopped himself from asking how Gandalf knew about Aragorn's newest trip. Gandalf knew a lot.
And like they always had, his words healed many wounds in Faramir's soul. One day, hopefully, Éowyn would be able to do that as well, once the two of them could leave the worst images of the war behind. Faramir longed to at least try in return and tell Gandalf before this next separation how much he had done for him. Faramir hadn't even really appreciated that for far too long.
Only when the wizard and Pippin together had saved Faramir from following his father into death at the last moment, he had realized that there was no one playing the part of a parent in his life better. But these things, too, Gandalf always knew without the need for them to be said.
So he narrowed that speech down to an honest: "Thank you for everything." They embraced for a moment before Faramir stepped back with a heavy heart and Gandalf got on Shadowfax' bare back.
"If one day, trouble should get too big for you to handle, after all, look west for that's where your wizard will always come from. Even the strongest leaders can't always make it on their own."
Gandalf's eyes narrowed when he stared towards where Aragorn and Legolas had gone to, without even trying to consult him first. "Though sometimes they forget that. I hope, you, at least, will always remember."
"I will," Faramir assured firmly. His father might not have known how important an ally of such strength was – but as long as he had anything to say in this city, the gates would always be open for wizards.
"What did he mean?" Éowyn had heard the last sentences and eyed Faramir questioningly from the side while waving Gandalf good-bye in respect.
"With Gandalf, you can never be entirely sure." Faramir greeted his wife with a fleeting kiss of the hand. "It's still early, beloved. You look tired."
"I was worried. You usually don't leave your chambers so early. May I gather from your sole return from the stables that Aragorn is once more neglecting his duties?"
"Stop talking about him like that," Faramir replied more irritated than intended. The discussion earlier had exhausted him. Éowyn's blunt opinion that was shared by far too many people among the folk, didn't exactly improve his mood.
"No decision is without flaw, but doing nothing to fight these rebels would be the worst. My offer to ride out myself was rejected so I'll resume leadership of the city once more and make sure, people understand their King's actions."
Éowyn couldn't hide that the harsh tone in his voice hurt her. Her lips a tight line, she turned away. The harmony and joy that had prevailed between them in the evening and the night of their wedding seemed to be gone again already. When Faramir wanted to grab her shoulder in apology, she stepped out of reach so quickly that he felt hardly more than the brush of her bright dress against his skin. "Even if you cannot?"
But to that, Faramir had no answer.
A route that triggered as many – bad – memories as the one from Minas Tirith to North Ithilien, past the hills and fields where some of the worst battles of the war had raged, allowed for little confidence to bud in the heart. Aragorn didn't need to have lived here for years, like Faramir, to sense the big suffering, the fights had caused in this area of formerly so unspoiled beauty. While he had been confronted with the ongoing chaos in Men's settlements on his way to Imladris, now he had to realize that just as much damage had been done right outside his home. It just expressed itself differently, and one often had to take a closer look to spot death, hunger, and barrenness.
Right now though, his thoughts had to revolve mostly around the reason for this trip. After the elves' long farewell – that he had solely been able to tolerate because Tarisilya had saddled Arod right afterwards, so that there had been no delay –, his patience was severely tested once more.
Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea, after all, bringing Legolas of all people along with him to where many of his people would be living soon. Again and again, his companion went astray for a bit or slowed Arod down because something in a distant forest area seemed to have caught his attention. At least he always made sure to not be in Aragorn's way and quickly caught up with him again every time.
Unlike Tercelborne though, Arod didn't have any Mearh-blood in him. In the war, the brave, bright stallion had always quickly taken Legolas – and Gimli as well – to wherever they had been needed. But in a contest against the horse that Aragorn had under his saddle today, he soon had to surrender.
After they had to learn from Faramir's second scouting party, that was on its way home, that these men indeed hadn't found any hints at all about the kidnappers either, Aragorn tried to push his friend on, like on the search for Merry and Pippin back then, to encourage him gently but firmly to ask a little more of his mount. That would have been easier if the elf hadn't unnecessarily demanded so much of the animal earlier. Aragorn couldn't help but wonder why Legolas had run so eagerly for half an eternity on their hunt for orcs, without a break, but now when it was about someone they both cared a lot for, seemed to never have heard of anxiety.
"On a day of all days when a life might depend on every minute, could you please stop getting distracted?"
Legolas seemed honestly surprised by his hostile remark. A disapproving wrinkle between his brows, he turned his head to him. "Please mind your words. I just don't want to miss anything that can possibly help us. So far, we haven't found anything more than the Rangers; we have to pay more attention to detail. Without a specific clue, it might take days or even longer, cutting uselessly across such woods and exploring caves like these."
"Then we will take the time. I definitely won't go back empty-handed like Faramir's people. I didn't ask you to come along as you know. If you don't like my way of hunting, you're welcome to ride back." As if to emphasize his words, Aragorn's dug his heels into Tercelborne's sides, switching to a light seat to get the stallion to stretch to a full gallop.
He knew he wasn't being easy to deal with right now, but that was the very reason, he had tried to steal away furtively at the dawn of day. This stubborn irritation took hold of him whenever he was focusing on an aim. It wasn't for nothing that he was known as the best tracker of this century or that Mithrandir once had tasked him with that Gollum-thing. Long nights without sleep, endless days without any rest, and having only the most necessary food was normal for him. In the past, he had stressed his body past its limits for weeks more than once. It was this perfectionism, almost bordering on zealotry, it was that always taken him the farthest.
And if there was anyone likely to keep up with that, it was an elf. So in spite of everything, Aragorn was relieved to see Arod's small silhouette show up next to him again from the corner of his eyes. "Forgive me. I'm always happy when you help me, you should know that. But I understand that you can't just forget what you left behind in the city earlier. Both Ilya and you have been trying to solve my problems for far too long already. That needs to stop. Once we brought Arwen home safely, It will be my pleasure to personally come here with the two of you, so we can check what the war has left of Ithilien together. But for now, something else holds my interest."
"It's no different for me, so stop trying to get rid of me." Legolas tried hard, but he couldn't fully ban the offense from his usually so melodic voice.
"That I can't ignore how everything in this area is screaming from the wounds that Sauron's creatures tore in this ground, doesn't change that. In all my long life I've rarely laid eyes on a place where nature was more off-balance. Trees and rivers here are still poisoned. That has an effect not to be underestimated on men in these lands too, and all the way down to the city no less. There are enough dissatisfied people there already, don't you think? My people and I will help as much as we can so that the drinking water and the harvest won't get endangered even more than they already are. But it's very likely that no one can do anything about the death of countless creatures and even of whole species."
"I can understand your worry and I share it, but right now I can see a single advantage in this situation. On dead grass, you can see tracks longer that would have long been wiped out anywhere else. What our enemies' carefulness might hide from us, the animals still populating Ithilien in spite of all difficulties may know." A glimmer of hope helped Aragorn relax his completely tense shoulders a little.
He reluctantly sat back down in the saddle when Tercelborne's loud snort, the foam at his mouth, reminded him that on fast hunts, even Mearas needed a little rest every now and then. "I for one won't rest until I know where Arwen has been taken to. These men have already shown what they're capable of. Every inch the sun wanders further west shows me that time is slipping through my fingers. We can just split up if you prefer that …"
Now a growl made it past Legolas' tightly shut lips. "So no one bothers you while you torture yourself into unconsciousness? I'm only trying to keep the calm that you have lost. My eyes are searching every inch of the ground just like yours. Why are you always so adamant about having to do all your duties alone?"
"Maybe because I have been alone my whole life. There was never anyone who could have carried my burdens for me. Even my closest friends were too busy with their own worries most of the time. In the loneliness, nothing protected me better than my independence. It's hard to lose such habits overnight."
Aragorn didn't wait for an answer but went faster again. He could feel Legolas' eyes on him from behind, but right now, he had to ignore what was written in them.
Legolas had brought this painful matter up himself, in the middle of a crisis that actually left no room for such emotionality. Now he had to live with the confessions coming with that, too.