Aragorn and Legolas had been wondering the whole time if Ryscfin would make it to Minas Tirith or if the remaining Stewardaides would catch him. It seemed like a small miracle to them when a cloud of dust, of silver and dark blue, showed up on the horizon.

Out of breath with haste, the group came to a halt next to Aragorn and Legolas, and the members quickly bowed to their King. The cold looks of contempt that they regarded a few of the prisoners with, had Aragorn shudder.

"We rode as fast as we could, Your Majesty. We'll take the prisoners from here. Is Lady Arwen doing alright?" The captain rode up to Aragorn and eyed the she-elf worriedly.

"She's injured. Every minute counts. Take the men to the city immediately, unharmed. Do you understand?" Aragorn sharply fixated his gaze on the man.

It took a moment of upset disbelief, but then almost all the guards nodded, grumbling quietly.

On the inside, Aragorn was shaking his head. He should be happy about such huge loyalty, but it was deeply frightening to him how quickly such loyalty could turn into hate on others and how strongly part of his people were being polarized already. Especially because he had lost control so much himself today. That couldn't happen again.

"I trust you to keep your temper. Hurry."

After Aragorn had told the men about the falcon, too, Legolas handed over the prisoners, and the two of them could move properly again at last.

Now that Arod and Tercelborne were finally allowed to run, Aragorn and Legolas would cover the rest of the way a lot faster. But even that time would still pass much too slowly.

No matter how big the relief was about being done running the gauntlet, the happiness about coming home was limited. This trip had made Aragorn realize very clearly how many troubles he was being faced with, at the beginning of his reign already. And too many rash things had been said by Legolas and him in the last few days. He felt drained, and not only because he had hardly slept since the coronation.

Right now, he didn't want to have anyone around him except for Arwen, and it was about high time that Legolas went to see his wife as well. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

In addition, the citizens on the street didn't seem to be happy about their King being back today. A few of the people who had often cheered exuberantly at Aragorn stood at the roadside in scattered groups, eyeing them warily. Whispers arose at many street corners as soon they had left them a few feet behind. Substantially more windows were being demonstratively closed than at Aragorn's return after his journey to the west back then. The children usually squealing so happily kept behind their mothers, scared by the icy silence.

Haven't you seen how much damage they did, Aragorn? How some of your own people are looking at you in the streets?

Remembering Legolas' words made him wonder if maybe he'd indeed never looked as closely as he should have.

When they followed an especially dirty road with broken cobblestones and far too many half-ruined houses that Arod and Tercelborne almost were stumbling on, there were finally so many citizens gathering that they found the courage to block the way. It only took a few moments before the place was filled with bystanders, gossiping women, and red-faced, sloppily dressed men. A couple of people from other places joined them to watch how the freshly crowned King would handle the hostility.

Aragorn looked across the crowd without moving a muscle. He arduously tried to tell himself that it was not personal rejection creating this scene.

These men just had seen too much darkness in the war and were being sick of it. These were nothing but desperate deeds of people who were too easily incited to hope for miracles by seductive words. Even absurd lies like the Stewardaides' could come to fruition for such a crowd.

And unfortunately, he couldn't deal with that right now. The ever-growing fever of sickness that Arwen's body was simply being completely overwhelmed with, as it had never had anything to do with it, had weakened her even further. In her sleep, she was quietly moaning with pain again and again.

Aragorn still tried to fill his voice with kindness. "What is the demand that brings you here? I am asking you to let us pass. Later, I will be happy to have any conversation with the people that they wish for."

"Does our King have no time for his citizens once more?" a woman in the background shouted. "Our children are sick! They're playing in the rubble, and where are you? Gone from the city, again!"

"We'll all be starving in the winter," a man said from the side. Given the considerable size of his belly, that earned him several amused laughs which understandably just made him even angrier. "The harvest was trampled by these savages on the fields. It doesn't look like you care much about your capital."

"Nothing but empty promises," an elderly man stated in frustration. "At least the Steward acts instead of hiding in the Citadel or flee the city at sunrise."

"Where am I?" It was harder and harder for Aragorn to not let the unfounded reproaches get to him. Answering such aggression with his own would maybe let the situation escalate for good.

"I am the King of Gondor and Arnor. There are more people than you living in this realm. And they didn't have walls around them to protect them in the war. The survivors in the villages on the far plains of these lands don't even have anything left to call home. It's because of them that I have traveled west, with a good conscience as the city was in good hands. What do you think went wrong? Minas Tirith is almost being reconstructed and shines brighter than ever. Besides, no one reported to me that your children were in the Houses of Healing. Are the rebels telling you, it would be treason, asking the court for help? You certainly didn't mind me healing the wounded in the war. I can't cast a spell to make it rain more or to make the ground more fertile. Instead, I give every farmer what they need. So far, there have been only a few though who managed to come to see me. Why don't you help them if you're so worried about the harvest?"

Although a few people nodded in shame and retreated back into the side alleys, there were still citizens who rather wanted to put the blame on their King in spite of all plausible words.

Among them, the first woman, the one with the piercing dark eyes. "As if! A ruler has to come to his people, not the other way round!"

"Who says that you're the true heir of the Kings anyway? Given how you suddenly showed up here? A ring and a sword, what's that supposed to prove? You could have stolen them both!" That came from someone who was clever enough to hide deep within the crowd.

Aragorn was searching for more words to say though his hand had turned into a hard, angry fist around the reins.

That was when, from the corner of his eyes, he could see that Legolas was about to do something very stupid, in his posture growing tenser and tenser, in the expression in his friend's eyes, similar to the one back then when he had given Boromir a piece of mind in Imladris. Aragorn wanted to try and stop him – but it was too late.

The elf urged Arod on, riding right into the crowd where people didn't look up in awe as they usually did in a Firstborn's presence but backed away just enough to not get kicked by the horse. "Is that how little you saw of war, people of Gondor?" Aragorn had last heard Legolas talk that aggressively in Rohan. He should have stopped him. There had just been too much happening yesterday that could throw even an elf off balance.

"Did you not see the only men who had the courage to lead the last soldiers to battle? Where were your eyes when your King saved this city from destruction? He has entered the realm of the dead just to protect you from the host of Mordor! Who of you helped when your beloved Steward was on his deathbed? Without the King's healing hands, that line would long have been broken because the last man holding that office whom you worshipped so much, preferred cowardly jumping to his death over fighting."

"And where was your kind?" that one woman complained again. "How many wouldn't have died if your people had helped instead of leaving Men alone in their despair? Why should we listen to you? To a traitor to this world and its people?"

Affirmative shouts and applause were given by the bystanders.

Old pain suddenly shone in Legolas' eyes that Aragorn knew only too well. He had seen it in his foster father, in Lady Galadriel, in King Thranduil, in every elf who had been fighting for a place for this race on Middle-earth for millennia and then had to admit in grief that it was useless.

No, the elves hadn't been in this last war. You didn't risk your life for a world that you were about to leave anyway. Not to mention that the elven realms had needed to be defended as well. Many elves had supported the Fellowship of the Ring anyway and thereby done their part to defeat Sauron, but what did a man on the street know about such things? A mother who was worried about her child?

For a moment, it looked like Legolas would back out, as if he'd maybe just see to a hole being made for Aragorn and him and give up an argument he wouldn't win here.

But then something happened that Aragorn hadn't even expected in his worst dreams. From somewhere in the crowd – where exactly was impossible to tell –, something was being thrown at Legolas. One of the citizens didn't just verbally express their annoyance but attacked the elf with an egg. No one had seen such an impudence coming, including many of the citizens who looked just as shocked as Aragorn.

Legolas turned around in a flash and raised his hand. The egg was being caught without a single crack.

A shocked gasp went through the rows of men. Most of them had never been in a battle. Many warriors were either still in the Houses of Healing or busy with reconstruction. These people didn't know an elf's abilities, and they didn't fail to impress. At least the children and younger citizens exchanged excited glances; some were even smiling.

Only if one was looking closely, they could notice that Legolas' hand was shaking when he smelled the egg, his nose wrinkled. Throwing it to the ground, he eyed the thick, unusually dark egg white pouring out from between the broken shell with real, deep worry. "The chickens are sick, Your Majesty. Ithilien's contaminated water is apparently already seeping down to Minas Tirith underground. Time is short. My people and I will be leaving for North Ithilien on this very day to start finding the cause and deal with it."

At least some of his composure returning, he turned to the people again. "It's these people you trust without knowing them, disturbing the city's safety and peace. You better think about what you're doing right now. My kin gave neither your Steward nor your King any promise to protect you. But as long as some of us are still dwelling on Middle-earth, we will do our part to make this world better. If you'd rather be impressed by big words on forbidden parchment though, come to me instead of stopping your King who's holding an injured she-elf in his arms."

For seconds, there was nothing but silence. The loudest woman was the first to step aside. Once someone had made a start, the others followed suit quickly. Guilt and understanding were written on the people's faces.

Aragorn urged Tercelborne to a trot without looking at anyone. Only when Legolas had caught up with him and he could be sure that only he could hear him, he started to talk, tiredly and with a choke.

"As Arwen's partner, I thank you for your efforts, but as your King, I should actually hit you right now. You just demonstrated to the folk that their ruler apparently needs someone to protect him from them. From now on, they'll be asking where my elvish bodyguard is whenever I enter the streets."

Legolas shook his head at him helplessly to apologize. He knew that he had made a mistake but nothing could be done about that now.

Some healers were fortunately already expecting them by the Houses of Healing. They gently took Arwen from Aragorn and carried her inside, towards an empty treatment room, looking concerned.

Aragorn stayed by the entrance indecisively. No matter how much he wanted to take care of Arwen, he had other things to do. First, they would bathe his beloved to help her warm up, and clean her wounds. He couldn't have helped with that anyway. Still, he was deeply reluctant to leave her alone. So he was staring away until he felt Legolas' hand on his shoulder.

His friend was right. The sooner the upcoming meetings would be over, the faster he could come back here. And the healers knew that they had to call for him immediately if Arwen should be doing worse. It didn't matter how much he himself was yearning for the silence that he would only find by Arwen's bedside.

Today, it was even harder to ignore the eerie silence expecting him in the courtyard.

Actually, he wanted to take a minute to say farewell to Legolas, but after his friend had given Arod to a servant, he was already on his way to the guesthouse of the King. He was either so much in a hurry that he forgot all politeness, or he still was angry about yesterday.

"Please wait." Aragorn followed him quickly. "No matter what's going on in the city, let us please solve our conflict before you leave it. I don't want to do without you for months, knowing something's come between us."

Legolas slowed down but didn't stop. "As much as I'd love to, I've been gone for far too long already." He nodded to the window behind which Tarisilya's and his chambers were located. The shutters were firmly closed. "Something's wrong. Even more than before our departure, I can feel it from here. More than anything else, my wife needs light right now. It was you, I think, who personally gave me this advice, in the night when you saved her from death. We'll meet again as soon as time allows, I promise. Until then: Don't fret, Aragorn. I already told you, I bear no grudge about a few wrong words. We'll deal with the rest when things have calmed down a little in Gondor."

Shortly before he got out of sight, he seemed to remember something urgent. "Should Erestor happen to join your meeting, please tell him to gather the others. I need him for the trip."

"If he lets me speak at least, I will gladly do." More irritated than he probably should be, Aragorn watched his friend leave. Instead of being there for his beloved now, he himself would only manage to change his clothes and quickly wash his hair. Then a very long day would be waiting for him.

For keeping on worrying now on top of everything else, about this unnerving instinct that something between Legolas and him just didn't work anymore the way it should – and already hadn't since Helm's Deep, in fact –, he simply didn't have the strength.

Part of Legolas had hoped that Tarisilya wasn't being inside the completely darkened room; that she'd maybe gone to the Houses of Healing. But actually, he already knew better. His heart clenched in pain but not in surprise when he entered and found his wife sitting by the closed window, huddled on her chair, with her face buried in her hands.

Legolas' future first advisor Thondrar was standing behind her, both his hands gently resting on her shoulders. He didn't look up any more than Tarisilya had, but unlike her, he seemed at least to notice her husband's arrival. "The boy died last night. A total surprise, he was actually doing quite alright already. But when Her Highness returned after getting his parents, it was already too late."

"It doesn't last anymore. It's just like with King Éomer. As soon as I was gone, his shoulder got worse. And now Ninor … The others were right the whole time. What I'm doing makes no difference, it never has. Now it doesn't even matter when I try to heal people. After Rohan, it probably just serves me right that this is how the Valar are punishing me." Legolas had never heard his wife talk like that, not even back then when he'd been in Lórien with the Fellowship of the Ring and her ghostly sight had made him try to send her to Valinor. That was how much her complete lethargy had frightened him at that point.

This time, he wouldn't leave her alone with this. Never again.

His body reacted before his mind, entirely frozen in shock about the news as well, even realized. He approached the window, automatically, and opened it, then he knelt down in front of Tarisilya and took her hands.

The deep emptiness filling her eyes would have frightened him even more if he hadn't already seen it not too long ago. In fact, exactly on the day that she was talking about. A day that, unfortunately, seemed to have left even worse traces than they'd thought indeed. It was about high time to do something against that. To let Tarisilya know that in spite of everything that they had gone through and what they had done wrong, they were still having a future.

"Come with me, elwen. I want to show you our new home."

It took Aragorn until late at night before he saw one of the elves again who had left Minas Tirith so rapidly, with both luggage and equipment.

Unlike the others, Tarisilya had left without a bag and on an unsaddled horse, so he wasn't really surprised that she was coming back already. But that she let Erestor of all people accompany her, who was riding a few feet behind her – not half as grim as usual for a change –, drew an appreciative smile from him. His lecture that other morning seemed to have helped.

He never learned what it was that Legolas had shown Tarisilya that afternoon or where exactly in North Ithilien this group of Firstborn, filled with so much thirst for action, was initially staying.

Erestor didn't have anything to say about it; it didn't seem to be much of a concern to him either. Ithilien wasn't his world. Together with many other Imladris-elves, he would probably be leaving for the west before the settlement north of Minas Tirith would even be fully established, as soon as he had fulfilled his duty of helping Aragorn. And if the Valar were gracious, Glorfindel and he would then finally have time to deal with whatever weird thing had been going on between them for centuries already. These two, each in their own way, had fought for the good of this world ever since Gondolin; they deserved some peace and happiness.

Tarisilya on the other hand … Well, if there was anyone she was confiding in at all, then it was probably Arwen. In the time following this day, no one else got to see the Princess of the Eryn of Lasgalen wear another face than the one of the silent helper whose abilities revolutionized the Houses of Healing and who withdrew to her chambers at the end of most days.

It was only every now and then that she accepted Aragorn's and Arwen's invitation to eat with them or joined her friend when she worked on her slightly rusty close combat skills, together with Aragorn. Even then though, she kept the two of them verbally on distance.

Aragorn was only told a few last sentences regarding the whole matter, in a sealed letter that Tarisilya thrust into his hand upon her return, with a bland smile, after he'd helped her get down from her horse. In some way, the document was the last echo of exactly those fights that had already been leaving a nasty taste in his mouth the whole time. And although it hurt, although in a way Aragorn felt left alone, this temporary separation was maybe what was best for his friendship with his Ring Companion before it could be damaged even further.

Aragorn

In haste before the next stretch of the road, I am writing down my first official request to my King. There's too much ahead of my people and me to put down here in detail how heavy my soul is.

The stars over North Ithilien have vanished, and the moon hides its face once more. There can't be even remotely enough selfish yearning for Tarisilya's nearness in me to expose her to this darkness. First, I have to secure the land that I want to take my family to, even though that means, I'm asking Ilya to wait once more.

Though that often hurts: Time, fortunately, has no meaning for elves. It was Ilya's own idea to retire until North Ithilien can welcome her home. Although I do know that she is only trying to bury her grief far from me, and though it would be my duty to help her overcome it, it is my wish for final peace in these lands that forces me to agree. Our time will come, no matter how many nights we will spend in tears without each other.

The dying woods of Lórien don't seem to be a place for someone who has seen enough death, mellon nín. And you're the last person I need to try and tell why I will not leave Ilya in the coldness of the Elvenking's Halls. So I forward her wish to serve in Minas Tirith for now to my King. There's no place in these realms that can be safer for my wife than the one under your watchful eye. So I can ride out in reassurance and heal what is poisoning the air, water and ground of these lands. If your time allows, I'd be grateful if you want to teach my wife the most necessary handling of the weapon I was forced to give to her in my stead. There's no one else I could trust that with either.

My second request today is easier to fulfill. Give this letter to my loyal companion Gimli, the Lord of the Glittering Caves that my heart desires to see so badly. There is no word in the language of my people that could make up for the blame that I rightfully see in his eyes whenever we meet in the hurry of our duties. But I do want him to know how much I am missing his, the most cheerful laughter of all the Ring Companions, keeping what little light there is left in my heart.

I do hope you know about my deep gratefulness, mellon nín. I am looking forward to seeing you again very soon. Look north and order the fanfare of the elves of North Ithilien whenever you need my help.