The next few hours passed in silence. At last, nightfall was upon Aragorn and Legolas and it became clear that there was no chance of returning to Minas Tirith for the moment. Which didn't exactly improve Legolas' mood that had been extremely lousy since their fight as it was.
Since the kidnappers' footprints were lost now - in spite of the keen observation by elvish eyes that in the end, Aragorn had been quite thankful for, after all - all they had left was a search in regions most likable to host a shelter. Mostly caves like those that the Rangers of Ithilien did prefer, too. To get there though, the two of them had to leave the cover of the trees and then would be exposed to possible attacks from any hill and mountaintop. Which was, without a doubt, exactly the plan of the Stewardaides who had had to expect that the King would personally come, or they wouldn't have chosen his beloved of all people as their victim.
"Let's leave the horses," Legolas proposed. "It's better to move slowly than to encounter an ambush."
"Which we probably will either way. These people will be waiting for us already." Nevertheless, Aragorn dismounted and led Tercelborne along for the moment.
"Without them, we'll be more inconspicuous, that's true. But if we find Arwen, every second might count. Both options have disadvantages." He sighed in irritation but nodded. "I've been meaning to go on trails soon that horses can't use anyway."
"We still could … Wait."
In spite of the growing darkness, Aragorn thought to see Legolas suddenly turning very pale. He dismounted as well and left Arod standing there, the reins wrapped around the saddle-horn, to run towarsd a place deep in the undergrowth. "Go on, I'll find you again in a minute."
Aragorn was tempted to obey for a moment. Nothing had changed about his hurry.
But he was fully aware that he had hurt his friend earlier and was feeling sorry for that by now; so he followed him. A few minutes give or take wouldn't make a difference now. Not as long as the kidnapper needed Arwen as a bargaining chip.
When he heard the elf utter a few unusually filthy curses in Sindarin, he was already anticipating the worst. He paused in concern when he saw Legolas kneel over a dead animal with tears in his eyes.
The carcass had been ripped apart by claws and teeth so badly that at first sight, it was hard to tell what this had once been. Upon approaching, Aragorn could make out the dainty, longish muzzle of a wild dog.
It was no wonder he hadn't recognized it immediately. Usually, these animals had an inconspicuously dark coat color, just like the wolves that they were being closely related to. This one wasn't just large for its kind but had initially been snow-white … Now it was stained red all over.
"Wargs." Legolas pointed at the numerous characteristic wounds and rested a trembling hand upon the animal's blood-smeared head. "What in the blazes are wargs doing in Ithilien? They're not even native here! And Faramir never mentioned them!"
"Probably a few scattered ones from the battles that have been busy breeding since the war," Aragorn replied quietly. One more problem in these lands that truly had enough of them already.
"I will not suffer these beasts here." Legolas' other hand turned into a tense fist. "These primitive savages just destroy everything. This was a queen, a miracle of nature that only occurs once in a hundred years. She's surely made these woods safe for years already. Now one more innocent being has fallen victim to Sauron's sinister deeds."
"She probably fell defending her territory. Even the most precious of their kind aren't immune to the darkness. This shows us once more how urgently our help is needed here. As long as creatures of the light are being killed, the two of us won't rest." Aragorn eyed the animal with a regretful shake of his head.
"Come on, please. Try to find comfort in things changing as soon as your kin will live here."
In spite of his shock, Legolas got up without objection. Aragorn felt more and more ashamed for attacking him earlier.
"The worst is that she just gave birth." He nodded down once more, at the dog's belly that showed several swollen teats. "I wish at least the offspring was left, to give the others of their pack hope. But she would never have left the little ones alone. The wargs surely got their teeth on them as well."
Indeed, once they were on their way back to the path, Aragorn spotted without surprise a whelp's lifeless, likewise snow-white body hidden under some bushes. The little one had probably tried to find shelter there, in vain. With a last disheartened look back though, he unexpectedly made out a tiny movement under the mother's cadaver.
Gasping, he hurried back and lifted the stiff body whereupon pointed teeth were feebly buried in his hand. "Not all of them, mellon." Carefully, he lifted the cub that was covered in the bitch's blood, murmuring a few words in Sindarin, with a small smile. He traced a fingertip over the animal's muzzle and up to its forehead.
The little one immediately stopped struggling and started whimpering pitifully instead.
"He's too young and too weak to survive alone already," Aragorn realized. At least for a few seconds, it was him now, not thinking solely about his biggest worry. In this case, Arwen probably wouldn't have been angry with him. "He can't find food yet. We better take him with us."
"A young animal on a hunt?" Legolas looked close to reminding Aragorn who had been in such a hurry earlier. "He's been laying under his dead mother for hours. Not to mention that we have nothing to use to take care of him: He won't be able to overcome that shock. You're only prolonging his suffering."
"Giving up so easily on a life that you've just been grieving for?"
One eyebrow arched in challenge, Aragorn reached for his water bottle to start by freeing the dog from the bloodstains, while finally aiming his steps back towards the horses.
Black fur was quickly revealed, with large, white dots on the muzzle, all around the right eye, on the chest, under the belly, and on the paws. Taking a closer look, Aragorn realized that the whelp had piercing blue eyes. The dog shook himself reluctantly to get rid of the water and kept on whining until he got a hold of Aragorn's finger and sucked on it a little.
"He's hungry." Seeing Legolas' looking vaguely hopefully now but still staring at the dead dog behind them very skeptically, he added: "He doesn't necessarily have to suckle. Many farmers feed a mixture of fruit and water when they have a litter. Maybe that saves the little one until we're back in Minas Tirith and can give him a bowl of milk. In the meantime, start unsaddling and get from the bags whatever we will need."
Aragorn sat the dog down next to Tercelborne who curiously lowered his head right away to sniff at the little one.
The dog didn't think that too pleasant though. Bracing its little paws against the ground, it tried to growl at the horse which still sounded quite thin though.
Aragorn watched the scene with a grin while getting a few berries from his supplies. In a little bowl that he usually used to chop healing herbs, he crushed the fruit and blended a paste. Kneeling down next to the whelp, he dipped a finger into the bowl and reached it out to the animal.
After a moment of cautious snooping, the dog licked the mixture off greedily. As soon as the jar stood on the ground, he put his muzzle in it and started to gulp the food down as hastily as he could, despite his visible weakness.
"I thank you for your foresight once more. I hope he's as tough as he looks."
Legolas signaled Arod with a light pat and a simple order in Sindarin that he was allowed to explore the area on his own for a while but should stay close.
"I'll be back in a moment. Just to the hills over there," he answered before Aragorn had even asked, pointing north. "I'll have a view over the whole area there. With a bit of luck, I'll spot something in the last light. You can always rely on an elf's swift legs and sharp eyes, even when you'd actually rather want to work alone." No, their argument wasn't forgotten yet.
"Can I come with you and try to undo the words I uttered in anger?" In spite of Aragorn's harsh tone, it surely showed in his slumped shoulders and his downward glance how helpless he felt, that he frantically tried to find some kind of support. His reproaches had been the consequence of lifelong frustration and this day's tension, nothing more. He at least wanted to dare try to apologize. To prevent this sudden wall between them from still standing when they would return.
"Not now, to be honest. That would only distract us both even more. We'll talk when we get back," Legolas said in rejection. "It seems we've done that far too seldom recently, seeing as you're blaming someone who followed you through ice and fire in the war to never have stood by you. And that's my fault, too; I've neglected our friendship. I won't keep on doing that now when one of our group needs our united strength more than ever. Arwen's wellbeing is far too important for me for that, too."
Without waiting for an answer, he looked for a way to get through the thick undergrowth and to the said hill.
Aragorn silently watched Legolas leave until his shape blurred in the dusk. Then he pulled himself together and went to look after Tercelborne, to make sure that the stallion was doing well after the hard ride. He didn't want another being to suffer from his erratic deeds. It was bad enough that he'd made it to damage something within moments that had helped carry a friendship existing for decades. He could only hope that this rift could be quickly bridged.
There aren't many people I learned to hate in my long life, Steward. Immortal beings are very careful with such strong feelings. But if someone brings that hate upon themselves, it burns deeply and inerasably.
Cold words, still echoing in Faramir's head when the short conversation with Tarisilya in the morning had long been over. He'd just wanted to make sure, the obvious feud between the King's secret advisor and Legolas' wife wouldn't cause too conspicuous trouble at the court, but he'd been confronted with a rejection he had never sensed in a Firstborn before.
All the more surprised was he about the unexpected company he later had at a visit in the Houses of Healing, in young Ninor's room. He'd actually just meant to assure the boy's parents that they'd receive further help, and promptly became a witness of healing similar to the one he'd experienced first-hand by Aragorn.
It was hard to believe that the same person that would probably have made orcs flee with her words a few hours ago, was calming this despaired child's mind by nothing but her presence by his bedside, easing all pain from his bad burns with feather-light touches.
"Her Highness of Eryn Lasgalen is just wonderful, isn't she?" From his remote corner, Ninor's father commented on Faramir's amazement when the patient reached out his small hand to Tarisilya, quite agitatedly still, and traced the pointed shape of her ear with his fingertip. "I swear, she can do magic. Without her, we wouldn't know what to do. She gave our child hope. He can even see a little again."
"Brego!" Ninor proudly reached out a small stuffed horse to Faramir, the auburn color of which did indeed remind him a little of the King's horse. "Il-ya! Brego!"
"Her Highness will talk to the King so that Ninor will be allowed to take care of Brego a little … if he's being a good boy now and gets well soon," the exhausted, gaunt-looking man explained. "You have to make sure, she stays in Minas Tirith, Steward. This she-elf is a gift of the Valar to Men."
"Stay!", Ninor cooed in support, too, with his still quite choked voice. But talking too much visibly hurt him in his badly damaged face; he sobbed quietly and only calmed down again when Tarisilya wrapped his bandaged arm a little tighter around the toy in it and tenderly rested her lips on his forehead for a few seconds.
"I can't tell anyone where to live," Faramir answered admonishingly.
"But depending on the King's opinion thereon, I can assure you that the Houses of Healing will welcome her Highness with open arms whenever she wants to support us with her unique gift." The last sentences were meant for Tarisilya, too.
"An elf's path can change surprisingly and quickly."
Shaking off her concentration, Tarisilya said good-bye to her patient for the day who gifted her with a last weak smile.
"But I do know that the healers here are in need of teachings and assistance, especially so shortly after the war. When my abilities are needed, I help gladly; that was never different. In the foreseeable future, my home will be the same as yours though, Steward. So I cannot tell for how long I can stay here."
"I'm sure I'm speaking for the residents of Gondor too when I say that for such arts, people will gladly make the journey to North Ithilien." Faramir returned her friendly manner, relieved that she didn't seem angry about him meddling with her private matters anymore. "From what I'm seeing here, I'm glad, in any case, that you and your husband will dwell close to this city in the future."
At the mention of Legolas, Tarisilya's face darkened immediately, and Faramir got a vague suspicion about why she had been staying in these houses nonstop today of all days. Just like Éowyn, she, too, suffered from the decisions of a partner who was always forced to put duty before her needs.
He better memorized that grief on the she-elf's face well and should recall more frequently that Éowyn must feel the same whenever he entered their chambers only late at night or not at all.
"Allow me to invite you for dinner," he offered once they had left the sickroom. "I don't want you to be so alone on your begetting day. The hobbits would be delighted as well."
"I very much appreciate it, Steward, but it's not only my husband who has duties to fulfill." Tarisilya showed the hint of a bow. "At his visit, Lord Elrond had already brought several elves here who want to move to the woods of North Ithilien with us and who offered their help with the city's reconstruction. And another group from Imladris arrived this morning. There's much to talk about and to plan as you can surely imagine. So 'alone' is hardly the word I would use."
Faramir did his best to bite back another inquiry about the subject repulsing her so much.
These elf meetings in their own temporary accommodations on the fifth level were always attended by Erestor, too, for him to keep playing his role as the leader of this still quite loose faction. A farce existing mostly for the residents of Minas Tirith, so that Aragorn's enemies didn't find another breeding ground for sedition because Firstborn supposedly tried to interfere with realm government functions. These two so very hostile persons in the tightest of spaces, together for hours?
"The offer remains open, in case you …"
Verilas showing up in the yard of the Houses of Healing interrupted him.
"Steward!" The grey-haired, short man reached out one of the hated parchments to him that had been throwing Minas Tirith into turmoil for weeks. "They handed out new ones! It's getting worse and worse. This time, they fuel people's fears by pointing out the security gaps."
"Which was to be expected. Gather the others. My chambers, in ten minutes."
Faramir wished, Prince Imrahil was in Minas Tirith, but he, understandably, was needed in Dol Amroth. And now he couldn't count on Gandalf's support anymore either. This time, it would be up to him alone to lead the little fruitful discussions about an invisible danger growing bigger and bigger.
So much for the idea of dinner.
"The moon is hiding behind the clouds, milady. Your search for it is in vain."
After hours of heated debates, Tarisilya actually wanted to be alone on the elf accommodations' balcony. But she had either not shut the door demonstratively or loudly enough or Thondrar simply couldn't care less. While initially, she had been just as glad as Legolas about one of Lord Elrond's best fighters agreeing to help him lead the planned settlement, she hadn't been prepared for the warrior suddenly up here earlier without notice, together with the others.
Thondrar had bled in battles before Legolas had even handled his very first bow, she knew and respected that, of course. And she thought to have a pretty good idea why he was throwing himself headfirst into things here, though his strong hands would still have been very much needed for the border security in Imladris as well. The elf who often still seemed quite brash for his age had insisted firmly on being allowed to accompany the four of them back to Gondor after the wedding. A proposal that both Elrond and Glorfindel had refused, pointing out Thondrar's other duties. There was little doubt that Thondrar now was blaming himself unreasonably for not being there when these Uruk-hai had attacked Arwen and Tarisilya. It was always hard for a soldier to stomach, thinking they had failed.
That was where her knowledge about Thondrar ended though, and that always created some inevitable distance. Even a few centuries ago, when Thondrar had safely taken Tarisilya from Imladris back to Lórien once, they had hardly talked. Admittedly, in said weeks, she had been very busy dealing with her own issues … But except for some impressed admiration about him not sleeping for even a single minute on this journey - though back then Middle-earth hadn't been remotely as dangerous as later this Age -, nothing much had stuck with her. She knew basically nothing about him and hadn't managed to change anything about that so far. He was being far too uncommunicative for that, and even Elrond kept no one's roots a secret as adamantly as Thondrar's.
Unfortunately that elf, on his part, seemed just as stubborn with certain words that you really didn't want to hear, as with his bow and sword. And he'd seen too many millennia to let himself be put off.
"My eyes were not searching." Tarisilya took a gruff look back, never stopping to rub her shoulder as her muscles were protesting after so many efforts of her hands today, most recently when taking notes about the meeting earlier. "The moon has long lost its shine for me."
"I've heard about that." With relaxed composure that an outsider wouldn't necessarily have expected from a warrior with Thondrar's reputation, he folded his hands in the sleeves of his dark purple tunic. In spite of the blackness of the unlit balcony, his bright eyes followed Tarisilya every second, but his body showed no hint of the restlessness that filled Tarisilya. Though the news of Arwen's kidnapping grieved him just as much as the other elves, it didn't throw him off balance half as much.
While he would naturally have loved to follow Aragorn and Legolas, that would have been difficult, having no clue where they were and having just very rudimentary knowledge of this area. As soon as the sun came up, Thondrar would ride out with the next group of Faramir's Rangers to continue the search; Tarisilya was really grateful for that. If he rested a little until then though, in the guest chambers assigned to him, she wouldn't complain …
"And it's been stirring worry in me for a while now. Can someone who rejects so firmly what has always given them strength, just because of a temporary separation from their family, carry the burden of regency?"
"It's my husband who will have the leadership of the settlement, as you should be aware." So much casual condescension, no matter how friendly it sounded, made it hard not to lose her head.
Legolas was a lot older than Tarisilya too, but he had never given her the feeling that this made her inferior or that he was trying to balance her lack of experience with the millennia of his life. She'd never had to be afraid that he was looking down on her and meant to lecture her.
Thondrar just did exactly that, and that caused dislike before the two of them had even started living in the same place.
"And what he has, you have, milady. You need to realize that. Denying yourself the stars' support will rob you of more strength than you had to muster up at the end of the war." Thondrar grabbed her chin for a moment to force her lowered head up but let go of her immediately when she stiffened, signaling him how much she hated it when people just touched her.
"Forgive me. I'm not trying to be insolent. It's just hard to ignore how much you're missing your husband. And I'm afraid, this is something you'll have to get used to for now, especially in the upcoming years. If you don't learn how to handle being alone, it will create strife between the two of you. The elves on Middle-earth already lost their evening star. Don't let them now look with grief at a connection like your wedding that promised so much hope."
He meant well, and his words moved Tarisilya, but they couldn't cast out the coldness that the farewell from her father and her brothers had once left in her soul. Since then, the moon just couldn't awake the same inspiration and energy in her anymore. Only the wish to not have to look at it anymore in these realms. A yearning that she wouldn't be able to satisfy for a long time to come. This was not something she wanted to be reminded of.
"Maybe someone renouncing his own past shouldn't judge these things," she answered coldly, with a short gesture to Thondrar's hood that he hardly ever took off. The safest way to end a conversation with him immediately.
"Who says I'm renouncing anything?" To her surprise, he didn't lose his smile for even a moment. "It's far gone, that's all. It's in other realms, in a different time, partly in another life. It's this world and this present that needs me. Where I'm coming from is of no interest to that. My father has a big name, Your Highness. He doesn't want me to live in its shadow or bathe in its light."
Tarisilya had to try hard not to startle back, given the deep pain suddenly shining in Thondrar's eyes. In spite of all initial difficulties … Apparently, Legolas' decision to accept this elf as his advisor and substitute had been a good one after all.
Thondrar proved a kind of loyalty to his masters that she had rarely witnessed in the past, probably only in Haldir. Thondrar was even worrying so much about her, before even a single of the settlement's pillars stood, that he was revealing something about himself that surely few people knew, just to build the first necessary trust.
No matter how distant the new life in North Ithilien still felt, due to the rash planning and the execution dragging on so much in turn: For the first time, Tarisilya felt real security regarding this project that brightened this long night a little.
"Your victories are well known far beyond Imladris. I don't think you need to make use of anybody's name. Your father could probably trade on yours instead."
"Not yet." Thondrar laughed quietly. "But someday. Then my quest here is fulfilled, and I can follow the others into the light of the Valar. Until then, milady, I'm here for you anytime. Remember that."
Tarisilya gifted him with an honest smile and dismissed him with a short gesture.
A moment later, she cursed herself for it.
Because Thondrar vacated the spot for another visitor. One whose presence she had even fewer nerves for today than usual.
She demonstratively turned to the railing, showing Erestor clearly that he was supposed to leave – without realizing, consciously, that she was acting like a leader, a Princess for the second time this evening. A role that she had felt little ready for till recently started to influence her whole behavior more and more.
Fortunately, she had been sharing a table with the Lórien leaders early in her life. For almost 1,000 years, her father, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn had taught her etiquette. Actually, without a special aim back then, safe for the occasional trip to Imladris as an Ambassador of Lórien. It had been just an addition to her other interests. Now, she benefited from this hard training.
Unfortunately, Erestor wasn't someone impressed by titles as even Elrond had to accept, again and again. "Ilya." His arms crossed behind his back, he stopped behind her instead of approaching further, accepting her wish for distance.
Not nearly enough distance. "Leave me alone." Tarisilya noticed in dismay that her voice was trembling, more with anger than with sadness, but she couldn't deny the latter either. The day had just been too long.
Erestor pretended to not have heard her. She knew better, hearing it in details like the rustling of his sleeves when he lowered his hands in annoyance or the quiet hiss when he drew a frustrated breath. Curious. You couldn't throw someone off balance that easily whose stoic indifference was just as notorious as Thondrar's. Elrond apparently must have threatened Erestor if he had seriously planned to make amends with her.
"Given that you've long been meaning to leave these realms behind, you spoke very convincingly in there. I don't quite know yet what to think about your plans in Ithilien, but the elves at least are coming to trust you two more and more."
"Convincingly?" she asked in exaggerated surprise. "That's an improvement over immature, impulsive, naive, and uncouth, right? Yes, I should really be proud of myself."
"You remember that so well?" If she was making him seriously angry, he didn't let it show. On the contrary; now he actually came to stand beside her and regarded her with a lenient smile that she would have loved to wipe off his face with a slap.
Erestor made people around him always feel quite clearly that he was more literate than many others, thereby creating a kind of elevated abyss to his environment that many didn't even feel like crossing … And Tarisilya had certainly already given up on that a few centuries ago.
Even though by now she could believe him that it had been a long while since he'd had any kind of inappropriate feelings about her: Ever since their argument back then, she had never felt the wish for a close acquaintance with him. She didn't even need to summon the past for that. And then his appearance … His black tunic and the black leather pants matched this cloudy night quite well. Wasn't it bad enough that there were enough images of dark creatures with weapons in their hands floating around in people's heads? It was a miracle that no child at the court had started to have nightmares about this eccentric lunatic yet.
"It seems that one has to watch their mouth well around you."
"Why don't you save yourself the effort and simply stop talking to me? Whatever it is that you want from me, you're very welcome to tell my husband once he's back." Tarisilya just left him standing there.
In spite of his feeling his eyes on her, she managed to keep an upright posture.
The elves' voices still discussing excitedly in the common room prevented Tarisilya from hearing Erestor's sad words that otherwise might have torn down a piece of that impenetrable wall between them. "I just wanted to wish you a happy begetting day, Ilya."
"Well, that worked splendidly," an amused voice behind him let out.
"Said Middle-earth's leading expert on reconciling with old demons." Erestor didn't allow himself to get irritated. It was embarrassing enough that he almost had a minute ago.
Thondrar leaned against the doorframe, feigning a disinterested, one-sided shrug. "It was never me longing for reconciliation. I've only been looking for a home back then."
"That you left behind now." It wasn't a question, not even provocation on his part. Thondrar and Erestor had never been too keen on each other, but they usually tried at least to not be mutually hostile; they better kept that up while they had residences in close proximity to each other.
The other elf getting into regular conflict with Glorfindel, his direct supervisor, that Erestor had to mediate in then, was bad enough. And even less pleasant since said supervisor and Erestor ended up in the same bed every once in a while, in spite of all their good intentions regarding the required clarification of a certain relationship status first. He probably should be glad that this energy-sapping situation had finally come to an end, with Thondrar's departure from Imladris happening so hastily now after all. But he found, without surprise, that the memory of a home that wouldn't be his for much longer either as it was, hurt more than it should.
"Imladris soon won't be a shelter for any elf anymore," Thondrar retorted as if he'd read his mind. "I didn't want to wait around for that to happen."
"Why linger then at all? To cut a few last orc's throats? Don't be ridiculous." Erestor shook his head with a snort. It just didn't make sense; he hadn't been able to wrap his head around this from the start. And for Thondrar's father, it would have been easier, if he'd retreated right to a place where he couldn't have been physically reached anymore either, at least not in the foreseeable future.
"If you only meant to escape: The west offers more chances for that."
"Not an escape." Thondrar's always so melancholic eyes fleetingly turned towards his new-old woods. "I love this land, in spite of all the pain that looking at it still causes. Before we all leave here forever, I want to say good-bye."
"Will you allow him to say good-bye?" Erestor asked, without hope that the answer would be different this time than in the thousands of conversations they'd already had.
Thondrar's soft features hardened promptly. "Why should I? He had no interest in that back then either."
"Back then, he couldn't." It sounded lamer than ever; Erestor heard it himself. He'd just been wasting far too many of his rhetoric abilities already on preventing Aragorn's regency from blowing up in his face in the first few weeks already. There wasn't patience left in him right now for a millennia-old quarrel. That was what was so bad about this assignment here: that he would have been much needed somewhere else right now, more than ever before.
He should never have let himself be persuaded to come here.
"His excuses have been making me sick long enough. Hearing you repeat them now instead doesn't make it better." Thondrar turned away, his jaw clenching.
"He's fine, by the way, if that makes you feel better. At least as long as Lord Elrond keeps his wine cellar locked. Stop worrying about our lives and do your job here instead, so you can go back to Imladris. You can put your brains to better use there than by keeping on getting on the nerves of some adolescent Princesses here."
"I'm sorry, I don't speak bitter warlord. Was that a compliment?"
Thondrar didn't deem it necessary to answer.