Tense silence prevailed since Aragorn and Arwen had left the fortress behind, riding across one of the endless plains that shaped the area between the Gap of Rohan and the capital, Edoras, so much, at a leisurely speed. They both only stared ahead, towards their journey's destination although it would take quite some time before they would even be able to spot it.

Only occasionally, Aragorn dared to eye Arwen from the side. That she didn't let her pain show at all made him visibly restless. As far as he was concerned, another night of rest wouldn't have hurt her. But unfortunately, Legolas was right. Especially since they wouldn't be able to gallop much, they had to prevent further delay. Or at some point, people would rightfully blame Aragorn for keeping on dodging his responsibilities.

"Let me know as soon as we need to take a break, alright?"

Arwen didn't answer right away.

Only when Aragorn pressed her on the subject, her head jerked towards him. "I'll stay with you, no matter what. Even as the wrong Queen if I have to."

Bewildered because she brought up the subject again so suddenly, Aragorn shook his head. It was plain to see, he still didn't manage to face this scenario even in his head. "I could never ask that of you. You know exactly there could never be anyone else for me but you."

"You gave up on that choice when you accepted regency." Arwen flared up a little too harshly. Clenching her teeth, she closed her eyes.

"I do not know yet either how exactly I am supposed to do that. Maybe in a few years … Much can happen until then. Or we will find another way after all. But whatever we do plan, I want us to do it together. What about you? You as well will have to decide if you can really accept our relationship with every consequence. If you don't, rather tell me soon, Estel. There might not be much except you for me on Middle-earth, but I will prefer spending the time as a mortal that I will be given alone, over becoming the reason for a new war among Men. You can't keep running from this question forever. It will be with us for a very long time. I will wait until you can give me a definite answer. But no longer. I have a life of my own too, you know."

Instead of waiting for Aragorn's reaction, she signaled Alagas that he should trot ahead a bit. She hissed softly when her side started to protest at every of the quick hoof beats, but she couldn't have dealt with Aragorn's baffled expression right now.

Aragorn spurred Brego on to ride up to her again, took off his cloak, and wrapped it around her, just like last night. He must have noticed her goose-flesh.

"Thank you." He stroked the small jewel of Galadriel around her neck, a gesture saying more than any grave word. No matter how this might end, he was noticeably glad that unlike his Companions, Arwen wouldn't leave Minas Tirith sooner or later to go her own way. Not as long as there was hope. "I will think about it, I promise. Thank you for staying by my side at least for what's coming next, Nauriel."

This time it was he who didn't give her a chance to speak but let his horse drop back a few feet.

The herald that Éomer had sent to Gondor, had of course also passed on the tidings that Aragorn was on his way back home. So Aragorn shouldn't have been surprised about being expected.

But a welcoming committee far outside the city, he hadn't seen coming, not yet. While Minas Tirith in its full glory was already visible behind the wide fields, the crops of which had been feeding Men in this area for centuries, it hardly seemed to grow bigger, in spite of their speed having quickened by now.

Aragorn made it across this barren run of the last stretch of road that gave you a feeling, you just didn't make any progress, often enough in the past. That the thoughtful silence between Arwen and him would hurt there especially much, he'd actually already had resigned himself to.

Instead, four little whirlwinds suddenly jumped towards them, as soon as they'd got past the hill at the edge of this long plain. With roaring cheers and their arms joyfully thrown up in the air, the people came running to them, so Arwen's horse almost bolted and even the usually unflinching Brego reared up in defense for a moment.

It took them a moment to make the horses understand that they weren't dealing with dangerous attackers but only a bunch of rambunctious halflings.

"My friends." With a smile that Aragorn had only rarely been able to show in the last few months, he dismounted and hugged his former Companions, one after the other, starting with Frodo who at Aragorn's departure from Minas Tirith had still been quite weak, even at this first cautious victory celebration back then.

It was all the more delightful that by now, all of the hobbits seemed to be in the best of health again. Not only had they been newly clothed in the royal tailor's shop of Minas Tirith, but they had also put on some weight, so that their stout bellies stretched the waistbands of their neat new pants impressively. All of them had their well-tanned skin and always slightly red cheeks back. And, most importantly: They had learned how to laugh again. Everyone who knew a little bit about halflings and who had met these four in the war had missed that sound.

"We waited for you, Strider!" Merry announced proudly. "They said you would take so much longer, but we knew you wouldn't make us wait anymore!"

"Gandalf said, we would be camping for days by the wayside, for nothing," Pippin added, grinning. "We should have bet him some pipeweed."

"I doubt that he would have been in on that, my friend. Either way, I'm happy you're here." Aragorn took them both by the shoulder for a moment and then turned back to Frodo who was waiting silently in the background, withdrawn.

While he might be healed on the outside – even the ugly wound on his hand had scarred over as Aragorn noticed from a checking glance –, the other hobbits' ability to leave bad things of the past behind in a minimum of time, he had obviously not mastered yet.

"Although I did not even expect you to still be in Gondor, to be honest." Worried, Aragorn bent down to Frodo to be able to look into these huge round, blue eyes that distinguished the little hero of this war so much. "I tasked Faramir with organizing an escort to see you home."

"He would have," Frodo quickly replied. "And I miss the Shire very much. But after all we went through together, and what you did for us, we didn't want to miss the coronation. Sam can hardly wait to see all the she-elves in their festive dresses who arrive in Minas Tirith one by one," he added teasingly, not quite as jolly as the others yet but at least not with so much frightening seriousness anymore either.

"That's not true!" Sam tossed in from the side in protest. "I always voted for traveling home, but Merry and Pip didn't want to miss the banquet!"

"You're one to talk!" Merry's finger pricked his belly that even exceeded the ones of the others in size. "Who's always the one with the fullest plate at Faramir's table?"

"If you keep this up, we won't arrive in Minas Tirith for another two months."

Arwen put an end to the little argument by greeting the hobbits as well and assuring them that she was feeling well again. Given how well she feigned a smile at that, Aragorn would almost have believed her himself.

"Correct. And I'm being drawn to my home as well, so let's go." Aragorn motioned the four of them to get the ponies who were tied to a tree nearby, surely gifts from Rohan to the halflings.

Only once it was uttered, he realized, it had not been just an empty phrase … The sight of Minas Tirith elicited indeed a yearning in him like only the gap of Imladris could so far. In spite of all duties, behind these white walls, there was the place where he had always belonged. True anticipation slowly took hold of him.

"Where are the others though?" Sam asked with the same curiosity you could always see by the tip of his ears when it came to elves.

When Aragorn's expression darkened, worry quickly gained the upper hand though. Sam had been there after the Battle of the Black Gate when Aragorn had fought for Arwen's and Tarisilya's life. The night had left a lasting impression. "The she-elf isn't doing so badly again, is she?"

"No, don't worry." The hobbits still being around, and that contrary to Aragorn's belief, Mithrandir was still in Gondor as well, that was already more than he had expected after saying good-bye to Legolas. Not only was what had happened in Rohan no one's business but Legolas' and his wife's, unless they wanted to tell people themselves. Aragorn also had to swallow his sadness about it for the moment and try to be happy that he wasn't half as alone as he had thought.

"Our friends have to pursue their former duties again now, that's all. And the same goes for us, so let us hurry."

At least the issue of too much silence was solved now; the hobbits talked in great detail about everything that had happened during Aragorn's absence. From reconstruction work in the city that they had done their best to help with to the arrival of many dwarves who gave a hand with the repairs as well, to Gimli's trips to Rohan, to the mines of Aglarond behind Helm's Deep where a new dwarf settlement was being created right now. They also talked about Mithrandir's commitment to the people, about their healing progress, and their growing trust in the future – help that Faramir had been very grateful for again and again. And of course, they told Aragorn and Arwen everything about the preparations for Faramir's and Éowyn's wedding that were just reaching their peak.

"You're just in time," Pippin announced with shining eyes. "It's just a few days now! I happened to spot Lady Éowyn when she saw the tailor. She has such a beautiful dress!"

"'Watched in secret' is probably more like it," Aragorn remarked with a small smirk. "And yes, we are aware. It was one of the reasons to cut our stay in Imladris very short."

As beautiful as such a big celebration would be for the people, his main interest lay elsewhere. It showed at a distance already how well the walls of Minas Tirith had been restored. That was only appearances though, important to daunt the enemy groups still in existence. Aragorn's worries during the whole journey had revolved around what was going on behind these walls.

To some extent, the hobbits' reports calmed him. No matter how many doubts he had had himself in the beginning: This journey had been the right decision. Definitely with regard to Arwen, but also because the people hopefully knew now how worried he was for his whole realm, not only for certain places. Now he could deal with building his government formally as well with a clear conscience. Now that it was almost time, he didn't want to wait another hour to finally face his folk as their leader.

While the attention of that kind would have felt premature and exaggerated a few weeks ago, he now felt a shadow in his heart being lifted that had spread there ever since the end of the war, when loud fanfares sounded from the white walls as soon as the riders came within sight.

Instinctively his shoulders straightened, his whole posture. Just as instinctively, he got Brego into an extended trot that wasn't only faster but looked more purposeful, too. Instead of searching the ground for any kind of tracks out of habit, his eyes were fixed on the destination. Doubt, sadness, guilt gave way to the wisdom of many long years of preparation for his calling. It was a change he hardly even realized himself anymore, that had become as natural to him as changing his traveling clothes against clean, neat ones right after arrival, and get his hair, often so unruly, into a decent shape. But he didn't miss the glances of his fellow travelers, some of them full of recognition, some surprised.

Aragorn smiled. For the moment, all trouble behind and ahead of him was forgotten. The same news that was spreading in the city like wildfire and that had the first bystanders appear on the roads and outside the walls already, unfolded its impact in his soul for good and closed a few of the deepest wounds there:

The King had returned.

Before the riders had even reached the city gate, a few first spectators had turned into a huge cluster of people lining the streets up to the Citadel, making fast progress impossible for the moment. Just like having a conversation over the loud cheers. Some people tossed flowers and petals into the air. Most of them bowed when their future King rode past them.

There weren't just men, Arwen could also spot a few dwarves in the masses, and occasionally she thought to see the slender silhouette of an elf in the background. So some Firstborn had indeed gathered noticeably early here, considering the exact date of the coronation still wasn't set. There was no familiar face that she saw but amidst so many people, that would have been really hard.

And Faramir and his team of advisors that Mithrandir was a part of too, were probably in the Citadel. That was were Aragorn's and her way as well had to lead them first, though people were visibly disappointed that their soon-to-be-King never stopped, just answering the greetings with a friendly nod, without reacting to the questions coming from all sides.

The halflings, of course, were well-known in Minas Tirith. Since the celebration on the Field of Cormallen at the latest, people knew about their heroic deeds and were happy to see them.

And Arwen, already being at Aragorn's side at the departure back then and doubtlessly being the subject of more than one rumor, thanks to some tales of the healers in the sick camp of Cair Andros, was at least regarded with more than one curious side-glance. Quiet whispers arose.

Arwen quickly started to feel uncomfortable. Unfortunately, she couldn't just spur her horse on a little to get the critical assessment over with faster. Aragorn had to let people see him. As his companion, her only job was to wait, just like the hobbits did.

Aragorn didn't seem to notice her restlessness; instead, suddenly a set of innocent, green Hobbit-eyes was looking up at her, and Sam smiled at her shyly. "People are very curious about you, Lady Arwen. They love getting a she-elf as a Queen. They're just staring because most of them have never seen you before or because you look so different now, not all pale and haggard anymore."

"You just know what women want to hear." Merry steered his pony between them and grinned at Sam broadly who blushed to the tip of his ears.

"People really are kind here, though. You should have seen how they welcomed us in the city back then." Proudly, the Hobbit straightened up to his full height which made especially the children at the side of the road squeal. The little ones seemed most to have taken the halflings into their hearts, thanks to their cheerful manner. A flower promptly landed on Merry's head that he pulled from his bright curls, satisfied, to tuck it behind his ear. "You see?"

"Yes, it's plain to see: You know exactly how to drive the girls crazy, Meriadoc. I'm afraid you shouldn't be expecting love letters, though. Most of them probably don't even know how to write yet." Arwen winked at Sam when Merry started to grumble sulkily.

All nervousness aside, she could definitely be in some worse company right now.

It only got quieter in the Citadel. When the court guards locked the citizens out by closing the gate, the group was suddenly faced with an almost eerie silence. The courtyard was almost empty, except for a few attendants who bowed respectfully and the servants who took their horses.

Arwen thought to see a short movement behind one of the windows, in the chambers that the Steward and Lady Éowyn were living in until their move to South Ithilien, as Sam whispered to her from the side. Just a short shadow, the long, black hair of someone who was probably a maid, before the curtain was closed. One could almost think, the future King wasn't half as welcome at his own court as outside on the streets.

But that was fortunately when Faramir personally left the White Tower, with an open smile. There was little left of the reserved young man that Aragorn had described his substitute as being to Arwen. The son of the Steward so tragically perished at the end of the war seemed to have given up his life as a Ranger for the moment and accordingly traded resilient clothes against a dark, tight monarch's robe. Noble enough, with adornments like the White Tree at the front, individual enough with a weapon's belt and long riding boots to assure permanent readiness. His strawberry blonde hair was tied back into a firm braid which provided a good view on mature features.

"This is a big day for Gondor." Faramir greeted Aragorn and the hobbits with an implied embrace before turning to Arwen.

"I am very pleased to finally meet you, Lady Arwen. I hope you'll be staying with us from now on."

"There soon will be nothing left but depressing memory of my old life in the west. There is nothing to keep me there." This time, Arwen's voice didn't tremble at that memory.

Éomer's words might have been harsh but they had made her realize that she didn't really have a choice for the moment. She couldn't have stayed in Imladris. She couldn't stand to be there, in a city that would bring everything home to her again and again that she would soon lose. If there would possibly really be a rift between Aragorn and her one day … Much might change until then.

"I leave my future wife to your care, my friend." Aragorn gently interrupted the conversation before it could become too personal for Arwen. "Not only does my heart belong to her, but she also has made quite a name for herself at the Black Gate, as you know. She shall want for nothing here. Until our wedding, she will stay in the Citadel as a court lady. Please arrange everything."

"Of course."

Faramir motioned Arwen to come with him. "My betrothed will be happy to help you get settled."

"I will be very much indebted to Lady Éowyn if she takes some of her precious for me."

Arwen meant to reach for Aragorn's hand for a moment to say good-bye, Sam had her pause though.

The Hobbit feigned a curtsy, cautiously so none of the others would notice.

Arwen thanked him inwardly, calling herself to order. At this court, she wasn't primarily an elf of very noble blood. No matter how deep her connection to Aragorn was, he was the ruler here, and she was not his wife yet. And she had to behave accordingly.

Shortly but respectfully, she executed the same bow that she had always used for other realm leaders in her function as the daughter of a Lord so far. "Thank you." She didn't miss the reluctance in Aragorn's eyes. He didn't want her to bow her head to him; he didn't want any of his friends to do to that, and certainly not his beloved. But he knew, like she knew, that they had to adapt to the etiquette.

Walking away already, Faramir stopped before Aragorn for another moment to get his attention. "We need to talk." His iron composure crumbled for a second, revealing worry in his pale eyes. It didn't look as fundamental as the burden of defending a whole country that he must have carried in the war, but not harmless enough to suffer delay either.

"Give me an hour. Tell Mithrandir to join us as well."

Now the joy about the return was replaced by undetermined fear after all. In spite of his noticeable tiredness, Aragorn hurried to climb the stairs to the building where his personal chambers were located.