Aragorn's arm was unfortunately still hurting from the warg bite which reduced the speed of his climb as it kept sending new waves of pain up to his shoulder. The tremors, comparatively minor but still noticeable, that Legolas' movements right below him produced, were an additional burden.

When after endlessly seeming minutes, they reached a path sloping downwards, leading to said side entrance, Aragorn immediately spotted the two guards there and signaled behind him.

Legolas wormed past him deftly, his bow already in his hand. Hit without any sound by deadly shots to their throats, the first enemies this night fell. That had been necessary of course; being just injured, these people would have alerted the others without a doubt. Still, Legolas couldn't bear looking at them when the men slumped down. No matter how often you did it, it just didn't get easier. Especially when you were facing enemies who weren't evil to the bone, unlike so many creatures of Mordor, but had only gone astray, like Ryscfin. Such moments always reminded you clearly of the finality of killing.

Aragorn knelt down next to the men who were wearing rags of linen full of holes, eying their faces expressionlessly for a few seconds. Not only guilt but relief filled him as well. "These are not city guards. No one from the court either." At least so far, none of the persons actually responsible for the King's safety, of the persons he was forced to trust, seemed to be traitors.

While Legolas ran ahead, into the cave, Aragorn dragged the corpses from the direct field of vision so that none of the other Stewardaides would spot them if they happened to look at the entrance.

The men's torches, he left behind, albeit in regret. Every smallest shimmer of light in the hallway could have given them away. That was why it took him another far-too-long moment to feel his way in the dark to Legolas. "What do you hear?"

"They're already leaving again." Legolas knelt at the turn leading to the actual cave, trying to classify the quiet noise there. "The majority seems to be gone already. If we both help Arwen, we have to let them go."

He clearly didn't like that idea. "There's hardly a dozen men left. You can handle them alone. If we lose these people now, there'll be no trace of them once more, and they can keep on spreading their poison in Gondor unhindered. I'll follow them."

Aragorn shook his head in reluctance. "Follow men who surely know this area inside out and who outnumber you? Not a good idea. They only have to lure you into an ambush and surround you, then there's nothing you can do. You should know that; it's not been that long since the two of us were in that situation. This is exactly what they want, what they planned the whole time. Besides, it will soon be about getting Arwen back to the city as fast as possible. With an injured elf on my arms and in the saddle in front of me, I can't fight. We would be the perfect target for more attacks."

Legolas audibly had to force himself to keep his voice quiet. His composure was already faltering again. "Haven't you seen how much damage they did, Aragorn? How some of your own people are looking at you in the streets? I'm afraid! Afraid for my King and for this new peace that is not even one summer old. I haven't been fighting for this world for so long and almost given up on the love of my life to lose everything to a few blinded men now!"

All of that was true, without a doubt, but Aragorn could see something else in Legolas' behavior that he wasn't saying because he didn't even know about it himself. He simply didn't want to see the danger. Just like in Helm's Deep, and at the Gap of Rohan as well, he was completely disregarding his own self, shaken so much by ongoing gloom inside of him that threats from the outside were nothing but an abstract possibility that wouldn't come true anyway. After all, he'd always been far too successful in battle so far. And if something would happen to him – well, maybe that would at least numb the pain on the inside.

Aragorn quickly felt Legolas' arm and grabbed his shoulder tightly, right above the sensitive scar that had remained after the injury of Helm's Deep. He squeezed until a hiss revealed that the elf could feel the intended pain and then halted there for several seconds.

"Remember that sensation. Ilya has risked much to save you, you said so yourself. Do you really want to do that to her again? I know better than anyone the kind of threat these men pose! I went by wrong names almost my whole life so that the enemy couldn't find me. It's exactly because of men like these that I gave up a life in safety. And I had to learn the hard way how to decide when to give up a battle. You either can't do that yet or you forgot how. So please listen to me this time." Only now he let go of Legolas. He didn't enjoy lecturing him in such an almost brutal way, but his friend wouldn't have understood him otherwise.

After a few tense seconds of silence, Legolas reached for his bow again. "I go where you orders send me, as I did in the war." Aragorn didn't even seem to have made him seriously angry; given the deep breath he took, it more looked like Legolas was in truth relieved that he'd been stopped.

"This is not an order. I just want you to learn to act rationally again, not be guided by the darkness that takes hold of you in moments like these. I want you to understand me, not just follow me. If I wanted that, I could bring simple soldiers along."

Instead of waiting for an answer, Aragorn pressed back against the rock, slipping along them to pass Legolas by until he could make out a glimmer of light inside the cave. Alternating louder and softer voices revealed that Stewardaides were coming and going. "When we rush them, try to render as many of them unable to fight in the moment of surprise as possible, so that they can't get to Arwen. I'll try finding her as quickly as I can."

With numb hands, Aragorn unfastened his dagger again and drew Andúril. In this fight, there could only be losers. Either Arwen would die, or one of them would be injured or worse … Or they'd be forced to kill another few Stewardaides in self-defense. These people over there were still residents of Gondor, in spite of everything. Just like in the threat Aragorn had made at his coronation, he'd now turned into a King who had to fight his own people.

The Stewardaides standing closest to them fell, hit by arrows to their legs before they even noticed the intruders; another did when his friends' screams had him startle around. None of these people had been wearing even the most necessary leather or metal plating.

Taking out especially such comparatively helpless enemies only temporarily might be merciful and brought the advantage of being able to conduct interrogations later on. But the noise, of course, now brought the other Stewardaides to the scene who didn't hesitate to strike back. Two of them didn't even make it to approach Legolas bevor he stopped them with another few arrows; then he had to trade his bow for his daggers though.

In a rush, Aragorn searched the room, only lit by a few torches, for a sign where Arwen could be while fending off his enemies' first blows. When he made out the shape of a passage to another hallway, he went on the offensive and cleared a path for himself.

Actually, he'd expected the Stewardaides to be well trained, but the first one, he disarmed laughably quickly already. These people might want to cause a legendary uprising, but in open battle, they were still just simple farmers and citizens who tried to challenge a seasoned warrior.

The next one blocking Aragorn's way was clever enough to call one of his friends for help.

Fighting two adversaries at once was a lot harder if one kept on looking in worry towards where someone might be leaving soon to harm a prisoner. Aragorn lost precious seconds before he could get one of the men to break cover by a feigned move and kick him down to the ground. With little consideration, he rendered the guy harmless by a strike against his shaved head before turning to the other.

That one had used the moment to sneak up on him. A sharp knife flashed in his hand. The quite brawny man quickly struck out at Aragorn a few times and even hit his upper arm that was compromised already, before he withdrew and started to circle him.

Aragorn waited for the other to raise his arm again, then he rushed forward and tumbled to the ground with him. He had to take several more punches before he managed to beat the Stewardaid unconscious.

With a little grimace, Aragorn wiped the blood off of his split eyebrow. He quickly went sure that Legolas would be able to handle the rest of the enemies alone; then he ran off.

Only when he was standing right at the passage, he heard Arwen give a choked cry. His heart skipped a beat. Cruel images flashed in his mind, of what might be happening in there right now, just because the broil had had him miss that one Stewardaid had indeed already made it to get in there. They had been too slow, this was his fault …

Another scream that clear pain resonated in this time, made him put Andúril back in its scabbard. The hallway was much too cramped to use a sword. Even a torch would only hinder his movements. He had to make do with what small glimmer was shining through here from the main room and had only his dagger in his hand when he started to run, basically blind as his eyes had to adapt to almost full darkness first.

When he could finally make out something, it had him leap forward instantly.

At the end of the hallway cowered a petite, blindfolded shape who tried to keep someone away from them with firm but badly aimed kicks. Judging by the weak gleam of metal, Aragorn wasn't the only one who had a deadly weapon on him.

Finally, he could grab the Stewardaid's arm and yank him away from Arwen. They stumbled backward together; Aragorn crashed into rock and both daggers fell to the ground with a clank. The enemy tried to bend down to reach for them, but Aragorn managed to push him to the ground.

The man already struggled back to his feet before Aragorn could take him out. A fierce duel broke loose between the sharp-edged walls. The Stewardaid seemed to know exactly whom he was dealing with here and forgot his other victim completely. Again and again, he tried to grab the King he hated so much, tried to ram his head against the next best surface, but Aragorn managed to dodge time and again.

Suddenly he found himself cornered though, with a lower arm pressed against his throat. After hitting the enemy in vain a few times, he forced himself to pause motionlessly, to ignore the lack of air and gather his strength, so that he'd be able to use his legs more effectively in a moment …

It turned out, he didn't even have to. A well-aimed kick from behind, to the back of one knee, had the man collapse under screams.

Aragorn didn't waste any time with murmuring a relieved thanks to Arwen, though he couldn't help but be proud of her, of how quickly she had recollected herself after the highly dangerous situation and in spite of her battered condition. He should have known that nothing could bring his partner down so easily. But she'd still gone through far too much to be able to hold her ground for long now.

With a growl, Aragorn spit out blood from his sore throat and pressed the Stewardaid against the unyielding surface on his part now, to keep the tall but rather slender man from possibly getting up again. He didn't even give him a chance to defend himself anymore but brought down his fist again and again.

In spite of the noise still prevailing outside and Arwen's panting and her occasional coughing, Aragorn could hear the dry crack when the Stewardaid's nose broke. He didn't care. In a way, the sound actually felt good. Seeing how one of these guys had almost killed the love of his life had unhinged something in his mind that he'd actually had well under control ever since he'd been a child.

This man was at least partly responsible for half of the stables in Minas Tirith burning to the ground, for a child almost perishing in there. It was very likely that he'd also helped to kidnap Arwen and to torture her, and now he'd almost ... This bastard deserved the pain.

"Aragorn!" It was Legolas' shout that finally stopped him. "I would say that's enough."

Shaking his head, his friend eyed Aragorn's posture, bent over the enemy, the unchained hate in his eyes that the light of the two torches revealed that Legolas had brought after an apparently won fight. "We already let most of these people flee. Leave those alive who can still talk, will you?"

Aragorn got up sluggishly and leaned against the wall, forehead pressed to the cool rock for seconds, trying to regain his composure. Though everything in him screamed to finally look after Arwen: With her small support earlier she'd shown him that at least she couldn't be doing too badly, and he didn't want to face her like this.

He kept on taking deep breaths ever until his anger subsided, the trembling in his body gradually stopping.

He still could feel Legolas' eyes on him. First, he stared back without any emotion, but then he nodded gratefully. At that moment, maybe the two of them understood each other better than ever. This time, Legolas had saved him from giving in to the wrath inside him that had blocked every rationality.

Shortly after that complete blackout, Aragorn already felt the fear rising in him that he'd always harbored regarding this side of himself. His hands hadn't been shaking like this for a long time. He turned them to fists and closed his eyes. He would take care of the man when they got back to Minas Tirith, repair the damage that he had done. He couldn't undo this, unfortunately, that he knew. But maybe he could now understand the burden that Legolas had been carrying especially since Rohan, even a little better.

"Legolas?" Arwen finally spoke up; she had recognized her old friend's voice.

Aragorn quickly knelt down by the place where she had dropped down on her knees. Carefully caressing her hair, he rested his hand on her cheek. "We're here. We'll take you home."

Arwen immediately nuzzled against his touch. A weak smile curled on her chapped lips.

Putting his other hand on her cheek as well, he gently kissed her forehead. "I'm here. Everything will be alright. Are you in pain? Can you walk?"

In here, he had no way to tell how bad her injuries really were. That she'd just thrown herself into battle so gallantly, out of pure despair about possibly losing him, didn't have to mean anything at all yet. Besides, he didn't want to open her restraints before he could be sure, he wouldn't damage her wrists with a rough movement. And more light would only have hurt her eyes right now, given how she was turning away from the small flames already.

Since Arwen just nodded, he helped her up as carefully as possible. How much she was trembling and that she was trying hard to suppress her cough, mostly in vain though, had Aragorn painfully realize that the she-elf was physically sick for the first time since he knew her. For the first time, the mannish side of her was seriously showing that she'd chosen because of him. And for what? To have to endure fear and danger now …

Legolas waving at him impatiently quickly cast out these useless thoughts. He was already waiting in the passage, with the torches, so Aragorn could use it without hurting himself or Arwen.

Avoiding to look at the unconscious Stewardaid on the ground again, Aragorn followed him.

Only in one of the few corners outside protected from the draft, he was really confronted with how bad Arwen was looking. She was so damn pale ... And all these small wounds on her body, a few of which were still bleeding … He longed to take her in his arms and just hold her tight for hours, that was how fragile she looked in her torn dress. Once they were home, that was probably exactly what he would do, ignoring the kind of rumors it would spark once more. Still trying to deal with the terrible sight, he wrapped his cloak around Arwen's body so that she could at least start to warm up.

"Close your eyes, mîl nín." He slowly pulled off the cloth and thoughtfully shielded her eyes from the light with one palm. "Slowly."

Only after several seconds in which Arwen's eyes, reddened from probably more than one tear silently spilled in the last few days, were burning badly, he helped her scoot forward a little and severed the rope around her chafed and bloody wrists.

Arwen clenched her teeth when blood finally was properly flowing through the veins in her arms again, sending pain flashing through them that Aragorn could remember very well from one or two captivities himself. Moaning quietly, she tried to move the limbs uselessly hanging down her body.

When Aragorn carefully started to massage her hands to increase the circulation, she gifted him with another, a still quite weak smile.

Then she let her eyes wander through the room. Anger flashed on her slightly fever-flushed face immediately when she saw the Stewardaides that Legolas was busy tying up with pieces of torn clothes, one by one. "It's true, Aragorn ... That's not all of them by a long shot."

"It was impossible to take them all prisoner. They split up too unpredictably." Aragorn closed Arwen's hands that had become clammy into fists for her, then opened them again. It helped only slowly since her muscles were cramping badly. "Don't worry. Nothing will happen to you anymore. I'll never let these bastards get close to you again."

Actually, he wanted to take a look at her cuts next, but the second Arwen could move easier again, she firmly embraced him. Aragorn pulled her even closer immediately, not only but also to warm her additionally with his body heat. Caressing her back, again and again, every once in a while he kissed her hair.

The fears were still deeply rooted in him. He had to keep himself from holding his beloved too tightly, from possibly hurting her. It was only because of him that she'd been treated like this – and he had not been able to prevent it. It was exactly what he'd always been most afraid of. He'd somehow have to learn to live with that, and he already knew, that wouldn't be a matter of hours.

By now, the Stewardaides were all restrained. Except for the unconscious one, none of them was hurt too badly to walk.

"If we take them with us, we'll risk that their comrades will try to free them. And our progress will be very slow," Legolas pointed out, already busy with collecting his arrows from earlier. "But if we leave them here, the others will definitely come to get them out of here before the city guard arrives."

"I know."

Indecisive himself, Aragorn carefully helped Arwen to lean back again to keep on taking care of her. "You need to get to the Houses of Healing as quickly as possible, mîl nín."

Though Arwen immediately tried to shake her head calmingly, just like part of him had expected, she couldn't even voice an objection since she already had to cough again. His partner was running a fever, and Aragorn didn't know when she had started to. Infections were attacking her cells, and the one of her airways weakened her further. If they lost too much time, she would soon do far worse.

They wouldn't be offered another chance to get information about the rest of the Stewardaides so quickly again though. This wasn't helping.

"First of all, get Ryscfin here, Legolas." The young man was in danger out there; even Tercelborne and Arod might fall victim to the rest of the enemies, as those would surely be happy to keep the King from riding back to the city. "Bring the horses if you can. There has to be some normal way leading up here too, right?"

"Give me a minute."

Being familiar enough with caves and mountains, thanks to his origins, fortunately, it didn't take Legolas long to find a way to fulfill Aragorn's request, in the shape of an overgrown path.

Ryscfin was still visibly nervous. He could hardly stop himself from assuring them how glad he was that everything had turned out alright. Only Legolas harshly told him that he had to be more discreet so that the wrong people wouldn't hear him, he went silent.

With a few bandages on her body, Arwen just looked mostly exhausted by now. Her helper, she didn't regard with even one glance. Clutching Aragorn's water bottle, she drank some small sips from time to time, when between her coughing fits, she managed to. There was no way she was ready for a possible fight though.

"One of us has to stay here," Aragorn remarked reluctantly. "And between us, with a companion in your saddle, you're the better rider and fighter, Legolas. But if Arwen is doing worse on the way home …"

Ryscfin approached him before his friend could speak up. "Let me ride ahead. A few of the horses are still here. I grew up here. I think I can make it through the woods without anyone stopping me. I'll send the city guard to you. There are still risks but you would lose half a day at most. Besides, knowing the others, they won't come back here that quickly. The leader is much too careful, and he doesn't care enough about his people for that. I mean, I don't even know his name." He didn't dare look Aragorn and Legolas straight in the eyes, or even worse, Arwen. After all, it had only been a few hours since he'd been one of these men lying here on the ground now.

Aragorn still felt a great deal like sitting him down with the prisoners. "Too dangerous. Your former companions won't hesitate to harm you if they find you. You risked your life helping us already."

"And I'll do it again." Ryscfin thrust his jaw forward in determination. "I have much to make up for. Both to you, Your Majesty, and to others." Very fleetingly, his eyes wandered to Arwen who was still ignoring him though. He needed a moment before he could go on.

"You could have killed me. You were perfectly justified to. But you spared me. I'll be forever in your debt."

Aragorn was tempted to object again, but in a few quiet, insistent words in Sindarin, Legolas made it clear to him that the young man would probably make the ride anyway, regardless of them allowing it or not. Maybe he deserved to be given this chance.

"Take the fastest of the horses," he agreed reluctantly. "Take the man next door with you so he'll get help quickly. Take no rests. We count on the guards coming to meet us tomorrow."

Ryscfin's eyes shone with glee. "I will not fail you. You will not regret your decision." He quickly bowed and ran off then.

"I hope so."

Aragorn's expression only softened again when he looked at Arwen who had snuggled down under his cloak and seemed to be dozing, with her eyes open as it was custom for elves. At least that hadn't changed.

"She would never admit it, but she's weakened. Can you make sure, the prisoners can follow us without breaking free?"

It wasn't a question, still, he was glad that Legolas put him off with a nod. If you grew up in King Thranduil's palace, you probably learned how to make prisoners see reason.

There was no way back anyway. They could only pray to the Valar now who had already brought them safely through the war that this highly risky ride would go well, too.

A few hours later, in spite of her growing fever, Arwen was still freezing miserably and nuzzling close to Aragorn. She looked like she wanted to crawl under his vest next. Aragorn had to force his beloved to drink again and again since her cough made it almost impossible for her to swallow anything, but she urgently needed fluids. Making her eat something from his provisions was impossible in spite of her being very hungry. Every now and then she fell into a restless sleep. Quietly murmured words and frequent startles revealed that she was being tortured by nightmares that Aragorn couldn't do anything against.

In the cave, he'd already seen the fresh bruises on her side through the tear in her dress. It told him that Arwen's ordeal had completely nullified the healing process of the rib she'd sprained in that battle in Rohan. While she always forced a smile on her lips when she woke up and saw his worried face, he clearly felt how big the pain was that she was in. So far, he had no idea how she was supposed to get through the gallop on the last stretch of road without blacking out from the agony.

At some point, Arwen took his hand and stroked it with her ice-cold fingertips. "I knew you would come." She was talking so quietly that he could hardly understand her.

"Well, a King can hardly sit back while rebels are kidnapping his future wife, can he?" He hadn't quite remembered yet how to grin.

Arwen didn't smile. She raised his hand to her lips and gave it a quick kiss. Then she hid her head against his chest again as if she didn't dare look at the Stewardaides, though she was usually never afraid of anything or anyone. Just seconds later, Aragorn could feel that she had dozed off again.

He pressed her closer to him and nuzzled his cheek against her hair before steering Tercelborne next to Arod, trying hard to turn his attention to the surroundings. So late at night, it became even more dangerous out here, and Legolas' behavior confused him.

The seven prisoners who had to walk alongside the horses were being silenced every time they tried to protest, with a scathing glance … and, if nothing else helped, with a hard pull on the ropes that kept their arms painfully twisted behind their backs. But that wasn't the only thing agitating Legolas if Aragorn was reading his repeated gaze upwards right.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that he, too, saw a tiny shape, almost impossible to make out in the grey sky, coming from Minas Tirith and headed exactly for the woods they'd just left behind. Now he also heard that very quiet falcon's scream again that had already confused them before.

"He's carrying something." Stopping Arod, Legolas reached for his bow. For the moment, he left it to Aragorn to watch the prisoners who were exchanging meaningful glances.

"Too far." It was one of the rare instances when Aragorn had to doubt Legolas' aim. This wasn't exactly a Nazgûl mount.

The first shot barely missing the animal proved him right. Flapping its wings, with an upset, frightened scream, the falcon upped his speed.

Visibly angry with himself, Legolas nocked again, taking a little more time now. The next attempt eliminated the more than suspicious bird. "You were saying?" Amused, he took the rope back.

"Have the guards take care of it. Maybe he's got an important message on him."

"Ridiculous." One of the Stewardaides, exhausted from the long march, snorted. "Do you really think you stand a chance against us? We are everywhere. It will be our pleasure to destroy every elvish scum that tries to occupy Ithilien instead of finally getting off of our world. And the Steward will support us once we got rid of this annoying parasite over there." With which he apparently meant Aragorn.

Aragorn raised a bored eyebrow. "You should have care how you speak in the presence of a man who has your life in his hands. That I suspended the death penalty in Gondor doesn't mean I can't reinstitute it, you know? They never were very lenient with traitors of the country here."

Unintelligible, angry murmurs was all the answer he got. Even though it was unlikely that any of these people seriously expected such an approach from Aragorn: That they could expect no mercy regarding the degree of their punishment, was apparently frightening enough already.

Maybe that was satisfying enough for now.