After the initial moment of shock, Tarisilya took back control over her steed and spurred Tercelborne on to his fastest speed. She tried her best to keep inside the circle of the Rohirrim which unfortunately grew smaller and smaller because the hostile archers were no longer hiding now but started to chase them on very fast horses, probably stolen from the Rohirrim.
The whole thing was happening too unexpectedly to panic, yet she could feel fear choking her, and a feeling of guilt taking hold that she knew only too well. She had been aware of the possibility that this could happen. Now she did really have no right to complain. She didn't need to see Glorfindel's face or read the rude words on his lips to know that there would soon not be enough cover left. And this totally crazy speed that demanded so much strength to stay upright in the saddle … If this didn't stop soon, her body, weakened from the pregnancy, would fail her. She would fall off her horse and break her neck, then the Dunlendings didn't need to bother with her anymore ...
"Calm down." Seeing the growing anxiety in her eyes, Glorfindel leaned to the side to grab her shoulder whereupon she could feel that he wasn't shaking even a little, that he kept his cool even in the middle of an escape and while occasionally shooting an arrow towards their enemies. "We are ahead of them. We will be out of their reach soon."
But that turned out to be wishful thinking. Though they were taking the straight road along the Anduin and getting closer and closer to Lórien, the bombardment didn't stop. This wasn't just a small group of people on the run who tried to escape the punishment that the Dwarves had promised the elves. These Dunlendings in their characteristic fur and leather garbs were driven by the thirst for revenge themselves, triggered by some of their own being prosecuted by other folks. The massacre in Dunland had made bigger waves in this part of Middle-earth than they'd hoped in the beginning.
Both Asfaloth and Tercelborne had already suffered small wounds and became noticeably slower though the animals were doing their best and knew exactly what this was about.
"We'll stay behind and stop them," the captain of the Rohirrim shouted to Glorfindel when it became more and more clear that chances were bad. "You get the Princess out of here." It was easy to see that the man had a bad conscience. The group had promised the King that they would escort Tarisilya safely. Such a mistake should not have happened.
"There are too many of them," Glorfindel noted with another look back over his shoulder. "We stay together."
But the tables turned unexpectedly. Another group of riders was approaching them from the other direction, and it wasn't, as was Tarisilya's initial worry, even more enemies. The warriors were riding bareback, clad in green and brown camouflage. As soon as they came within reach, they drew their weapons and let the first hail of arrows rain on the enemies in the distance. Thanks to the straight line of attack, they were able to aim better than the Rohirrim and took out many Dunlendings on their first attempt already.
"Woodland Elves!" the Galadhrim messenger cried in surprise. "King Thranduil's people. They have crossed the Anduin!"
Tarisilya was completely out of breath and didn't even really notice the new advantage the situation was giving them. Her hand was tense as it lay on her belly. Though at that stage of pregnancy, it was far too early to feel the baby, she knew that it had to be doing just as bad as she did. Besides, his injuries made Tercelborne start to stumble, which meant, she had to be careful not to lose balance. A faint flickering was before her eyes, darkening the spring sun in the sky more and more.
She almost slipped to the side, dazed, when something suddenly painfully scratched her neck. Tarisilya startled violently. Her first thought was of an arrow, but then she felt soft fur against her chest and weakly remembered that Conuiril had fought her way out of the saddlebag and that Tarisilya had hurriedly stuffed the cat down the front of her traveling gown. Though it had only been an instinctive reaction, the animal had probably just saved her from making indeed painfully close acquaintance with the ground.
Her senses were still dulled though, the strain was just too big. Her leg muscles burned more and more from clinging to Tercelborne's strong body in an iron grip. She realized only vaguely that the two groups of riders had mixed together and that people were shouting at each other.
"I'll take it from here. You take care of the Dunlendings."
"But of course. My pleasure. I was solely and explicitly reborn to serve His Majesty of Eryn Lasgalen."
Tarisilya had seldom heard Glorfindel say a sentence that consisted of more than the most purposeful words before. She was still busy wondering who it was that was throwing him off balance so much when long arms were being wrapped around her body and she was being lifted onto another horse.
Suddenly feeling very awake again, she tried to make out the elf's face under his hood, but all she could see was gold blond hair and a pair of lips, tight with irritation, that looked somehow very familiar. Just like the narrow, strong hand on her waist. "Your Majesty?"
"How often did I tell you to call me ada?" She could have sworn, it sounded amused, that Thranduil was somehow enjoying this whole thing, the change of finally getting out of his palace again and actively be part of some incident.
Maybe she should see that as a good omen for her plan. "Where are we going?" Tarisilya realized only now that there were no more arrows incoming. The gurgling of water and the loud creak of wood revealed that they were just crossing a bridge.
"East Lórien." A surprisingly gentle hand brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead and remained there. A few words in an older Sindarin dialect were being murmured to her that she usually used herself to calm patients down.
The exhaustion came back almost instantly, and this time, Tarisilya didn't fight it. It was a pleasant illusion, pretending it was Legolas who had come to protect her, that it was him she was sitting on this horse with, nuzzling against him, feeling like she'd almost never been so safe before. While she had already learned to appreciate her father-in-law very much at her wedding back then: At this moment, her heart finally opened to him in deep affection.
She pulled his hood aside a little to be able to look him in the eye. "Thank you."
"Sleep, Ilya. We'll talk once we get there." She could tell that the smile he gifted her with was rare and therefore meant all the more honest.
That, more than anything else, assured her that they had made it, that nothing would happen to the child. And right now, that was all that counted.
It was probably one of the most useful proposals that had ever come from one of Aragorn's advisors.
It wasn't that Arwen thought the twelve men incompetent but she knew, Aragorn had to deal with endless debates and consultations often enough before something could get done. Which was why she was so surprised that Verilas of all people presented a detailed plan of how to reduce the risk for Arwen as much as possible, while a messenger of the King was just on his way to Cair Andros to announce the imminent visit and its conditions to the elves there.
When the messenger delivered the answer, a not very enthusiastic but at least positive one, everything had already been prepared so that a week after Faramir's stay in Minas Tirith, Arwen was getting ready for departure.
Only when she tried to put on clothes originally not tailored for her, in a small supply room of the King's House, the whole thing suddenly felt like a pretty stupid idea. Of course, she had to protect herself; she'd also have done that if she'd gone for a ride with Alagas alone. She owned armor fitted exactly to her for that though, a sword, daggers, a shield. In the Battle of the Black Gate, she'd had extremely bad experiences with having metal the wrong size on her body. And back then, that had been some gear of one of her elvish brothers. At least she hadn't felt that lost in that one.
Unfortunately, the disguise was essential for the quest. Aragorn wished her to join the men anonymously, while someone else would pretend to be her. Especially the latter idea seemed more lunatic to Arwen with every passing minute.
Unfortunately, Ranír had immediately agreed to the request to take over this assignment – without Arwen's approval no less. She herself would never have allowed someone else to get themselves in so much danger for her, especially not Ranír who had grown so dear to her heart. The young woman desperately wanted to help her Queen, and Arwen had to suspect that at her young age, she didn't even realize what that could mean for her yet.
Neither the handmaiden nor the advisors had responded to any objections. Ranír had been given a quick lecture about noble posture and riding on a side-saddle as Arwen was supposed to use one of those for trips more and more often since the wedding, except for going into possible fights. One of her dresses had been altered for the slightly smaller handmaiden, and after a little bit of searching, they'd found a horse that looked very similar to her dark brown one.
Ranír seemed well prepared, but if something happened to her today, Arwen would never be able to forgive herself. And that wasn't the only reason she would happily have traded spots with Ranír right now.
"I forgot how stiff these things are." With a little grimace, she tried in vain to fasten the side straps of the harness with the heavy shoulder plates. She was already holding her breath to make that thing fit somehow, but her bust was still in the way. A bigger harness would have hindered her in her riding though and would also have attracted more attention from a possible audience.
The soldier standing next to her grinned to himself. "Wait a second, Your Majesty, I'll help you." Without a warning, he pulled the leather straps tighter and tied them which Arwen regarded with a choked hiss. "Better?"
"Almost as comfortable as my wedding dress." She needed a moment before she could even breathe again, and to fight the urge to tear the harness off her body immediately. Her reluctance only growing, she put on the pointed helmet next that was hiding her long hair and her face a little, especially the shape of her ears. Her sight was heavily restricted at once.
"It's just a matter of training, Your Majesty. But you're not supposed to ever seriously have to wear such armor anyway, though we've all heard, of course, about your heroic deeds when you defended Imladris back then." In honest respect, the slightly elderly man lowered his head deeply, with one hand resting against his broad opposite shoulder for a moment. "It's just that we all hope, the times are over when Firstborn actively had to be part of mannish conflicts. And we'll do all to make sure, nothing happens to you."
"If my realm needs my skills as a warrior, I will hesitate just as little as my husband to use them. But usually I, too, prefer to solve issues without bloodshed." Arwen repeated the gesture just as solemnly before they left the room and went out to the yard side by side. "I am very grateful. I know how much you are risking only for my protection."
The King and his "wife" were already waiting for them. Seeing Ranír sit on her horse like that, you could actually hope that the deception would work. Wearing an exquisite blue dress and an expensive hat that a transparent veil hung from, she was almost unrecognizable. As her curly hair was slightly too short and too bright, they had colored it with coal, then braided it and tied it up. From a distance, at first sight, you could really take the handmaiden for the Queen.
The guard and Arwen briefly bowed to her to save appearances and then got on their steeds. Thanks to the excellent senses of Mearas, Alagas did, fortunately, have no problem, recognizing his owner and accepted the additional weight of the heavy armor impassively as well.
The way, Aragorn's eyes restlessly roamed the surroundings, made it easy to see, he hadn't calmed down one bit since the good-bye in his chambers earlier. He surely would have loved to give Arwen another lecture about being careful. His gaze burned her from behind and made it hard not to turn around.
It was only once they had safely covered most of the road that Arwen started to breathe a little easier.
Maybe the Stewardaides had realized after the last defeats that they stood no chance against the King's defenses. Or maybe, after many of them had been captured, they were still busy reorganizing and training their troops. Either way, the woods of North Ithilien remained silent.
After a hard ride, they were already approaching the area of Cair Andros; nothing much could happen anymore now. The White Company, Faramir's loyal followers, were watching this particular spot with great attention. While that had a bitter aftertaste as it served mostly for controlling the elves: In this case, it was a reassurance.
"We should split up now," the captain remarked. "The path to the camp is strictly secret. They told our messenger very clearly that it will only be revealed to the Queen and her escort. The others …"
While the men were making plans, Arwen steered her horse next to the one that looked so much like Alagas – hopefully enough so. "I'm coming with you, Your Majesty." They only wanted to reveal the role swap upon arrival at the elf settlement.
"And so will I." One of the warriors steered his mare to Ranír's other side.
"You guys make sure, the trip back home will proceed just as uneventful."
The leader nodded jerkily but then startled because the sound of quick hoofbeats started to draw near. "Scouts! Are these the Steward's soldiers?"
"I'm afraid not, Captain." One of the younger men tried in vain to not let his nervousness show, after eying the enemies from a high branch. "No uniforms, no flag. But a lot of bows and spears."
"Where are these damn elves when you need them for once?" Now even that leader who had actually seemed strong-nerved to Arwen earlier lost his head.
"Fine, this is what we've been expecting. Your Majesty, get into those woods, now. Stay away from straight roads, bushwhack instead. The elvish border guards can't be far. There are only too few of them to cover the whole area. Milady …"
He waved at Ranír impatiently.
Arwen was already about to turn her horse around when she saw from the corner of her eyes that Ranír was sitting stiffly on the saddle, not moving a muscle. Her dark doe eyes were filled with panic.
Arwen grabbed the reins of the woman's horse and yanked it around. The animal neighed in protest, but she couldn't be caring for that right now. "Ride back to the city. There are guards at the gate, you'll be safe there!" That was the last thing she told the frightened handmaiden before slapping the horse's flank so that it ran off in a panic. Arwen realized in relief that it instinctively ran indeed towards Minas Tirith, towards its stable.
Only then did she signal Alagas to dash off as well. It took her only a few moments though to realize, it had been a mistake, thinking her tails were lurking only behind her. As so often, Alagas was far ahead of her companions' horses; this time, that was her doom.
When additional enemies approached her from the side, it was too late to turn around. The path was too narrow and too steep for it, too. Arwen was already expecting a couple of first arrows coming her way, instead, she heard upset shouts of her soldiers that departed further and further. Those enemies who had only just shown up were pushing away her protectors to get to her more easily. Arwen had obviously been found out.
The hunt was put to a sudden, unexpected end by something entirely different though. An arrowhead deeply pierced Alagas' right foreleg, made him stumble in the middle of a galloping stride, and then collapse.
A trained rider was familiar with such a situation, and also with reacting by getting away from the horse as quickly as possible to not get buried under it. Arwen was having problems with her stiff boots though; she got stuck, and her foot became trapped under the saddle. She tried to pull herself out from under the horse immediately; Alagas, too, tried to get up with a shrill neigh. His leg gave away though so Arwen couldn't straighten up. She once more cursed the heavy armor that she could hardly move in.
"Stop driving the horse crazy, or your leg will be damaged. It was hard enough, keeping you from riding straight into the arms of the next Stewardaides. Do not ruin that." A smoky voice like Erestor's was easy to recognize even if it was hardly a hiss, so it didn't come as a surprise for Arwen, seeing who was approaching her there.
In the first moment, she still had problems recognizing her father's librarian though. Erestor looked as if he'd spent the last millennia in Mordor instead of Imladris. The neutral soldier's gear – an old uniform, as the men loyal to Faramir and Aragorn were wearing a slightly altered version in an even darker grey since the Stewardaides existed – looked far too large for his tall body. His hands and neck were littered with small scars, looking so precise, shaped to an almost artful pattern, so that there was no doubt, he'd inflicted them upon himself.
"But now that you're here, I might as well tell you personally this time. Subtlety doesn't seem to be something you understand, Your Majesty."
"Save your breath. Either help me up or fuck off. Since you just wounded my horse badly, I'll need every second to get to safety by foot." Arwen tore off the disturbing helmet and angrily glared at the other elf. She had no reason to return the almost scornfully polite form of address that her former friends was using. "You have no idea what you're doing here. It's not just yourself that you're plunging into ruin."
"Don't waste both my and your time, Elrondiel. We won't be alone for long."
Unfazed as if it hadn't been his own arrow that had hurt the horse, Erestor knelt down next to Alagas and took his reins, ignoring that the animal snapped at him aggressively. With a harsh slap to its side, he got it at least to actually stand up, but he very wisely backed away then to avoid getting kicked.
Arwen had to suppress a quiet scream when Erestor rudely yanked her to her feet next and shoved her headfirst into the next best tree trunk which left her with a couple of abrasions, twisting one of her arms behind her back so tightly that for a moment she thought, it would just slip right from its socket. Someone had apparently started to watch them again even faster than the self-appointed spy had expected it.
"Stay in Minas Tirith. If you ignore this warning too, I can't help you anymore. In fact, it would be best for you to vanish completely for a while. Don't forget you're not alone in the Citadel. But all of this will be over soon."
The pale-faced Noldo pushed her to the ground and stared into the distance, at the widths of North Ithilien, rubbing the deep bite wound that Alagas had given him. It didn't look like he was trying to ease the burning, like he was even really feeling it, thanks to his unnatural low sensation of pain. It rather seemed to annoy him that the injury prevented him from keeping on demonstratively attacking Arwen.
When he turned back to her, he seemed to realize that she had to fight to stay conscious due to that blow against her head, and he pulled her upright again, this time taking her lower arms into a firm grip. "Everything will be over soon. It would be better if you weren't close to any this then."
That Erestor was apparently indeed only trying to keep up this charade, just like during that incident with Tarisilya, didn't lessen Arwen's ice-cold wrath even one bit. "Let go of me, or I swear …"
"Or what? Will you scream for the guards who are probably being shot down from their horses themselves right now? Do you want to hide behind such puny men? You should have stayed with His Majesty. Or even better, with your father so that he can continue looking out for you. Just as he even did every time you went to battle so that you would never run into serious danger. Given what happened at the Black Gate, when you were really on your own for the first time, you'd better not accuse other elves of naivety. It's so stupid of you to come here after they've only just patched you up." Erestor only strengthened his grasp on her, starting to laugh bitterly.
The additional pain and the dig at her career in the army that was definitely just as real and humiliating, erased even the last bit of Arwen's will to understand this elf. Erestor really believed that he could achieve anything with this lousy show except for alienating anyone close to him, that was how blinded he had become. He had already dared to hurt Tarisilya and endanger the baby, and now this …
The new surge of energy was enough to help Arwen free one of her arms and slam her elbow into Erestor's side for all she was worth, aiming below his chest armor. As soon as she heard a quiet moan in her ear, she tore away from him completely and drew the dagger that she was carrying on her belt.
Erestor tried to defend himself instinctively, jumping forward. Arwen dodged though, and her blade singed a long cut into his right cheek. For a second, the metal tip scraped his teeth with a disgusting sound. Blood splashed on her borrowed armor.
With cynical laughter, she stumbled backward. "You can thank me later for helping your authenticity so much. I guess, this time it's not only your victims, bearing the traces of your treatment. See the scar as a message from Tarisilya, too."
She waited for a reaction in vain. Erestor just turned and ran away, leaving the woods, surely following his companions to keep on playing a role that he didn't know of how much harm it was doing.
Instead, another elf came running to her when she was only just about to look at the bleeding of Alagas' shoulder. This time, it was someone she knew for certain to not attack her, yet the joy of reunion was limited.
"Are you alright? Can you walk?"
After Legolas had taken a moment to make sure that nothing too bad was wrong with Arwen, he took a look back over his shoulder where there were without a doubt other elves of the settlement waiting. After ordering them to watch the whole area, he offered Arwen his arm to brace herself on it.
"Your escort will have to follow us later. Make sure Alagas is coming. We'll take care of his wound and your head in the camp."
"My head is obviously doing better than yours. Don't touch me!" She backed away, ignoring the unpleasant throbbing behind her forehead. It didn't feel like a concussion; she had been lucky. That meant, she would definitely not accept any kind of help from someone who had got her into this situation in the first place. "This is all your fault! I don't need a noble savior while my guards might get hurt or even be murdered right now, just because of your damn stubbornness. Why exactly do you think we made all this effort? Meeting in Emyn Arnen for example would obviously have been asked too much. I hope you're happy now."
She clenched her teeth tightly and turned to Alagas again.
The horse was still bleeding and bolted, again and again, startled by how unusually harsh the elves were talking. It took Arwen a moment to coax it into calming down a little.
Arwen's thoughts were racing. Her guards' uncertain fate and wondering if Ranír would make it to the city unharmed wanted to drive her crazy. But if she left now, not having achieved anything, this whole trip would have been for nothing.
This was a fight the soldiers would hopefully be able to win on their own, too. Confronted with them directly, these long-term trained men had actually always been superior to the Stewardaides so far. The rebels were too amateurish to hold their ground against them, which was exactly why they were mostly preferring an ambush.
She signaled Alagas reluctantly to start walking. Again and again, she patted the horse's neck to praise it for coming along in spite of being in bad pain. By now, it seemed like a bad dream that she hadn't really got along with the young Mearh in the beginning, and it annoyed her unbelievably that because of the Stewardaides, something had happened to him once more. One day, Elrond would have a lot to say about that to Erestor as well; after all, that animal was one of those who were the whole pride of his breed in the last few decades.
The other elf that she felt like striking with her sword right now, she regarded only with a cold glance as she passed him by. "Come on. Negotiations can't wait all day. I'm here because you wanted me to, so let's talk."
Seeing that her aggressive, distanced words had Legolas startle more than once and that he finally had to lower his eyes when she looked into them, how he was leading the way with slumped shoulders, gave her at least a little satisfaction. That another member of his folk had been attacked on this land, on his lands, would maybe finally get him to think after all.