"They came back?" His shock about the news suddenly seemed to make Legolas forget his condition. He headed in the rough direction of the exit but quickly had to brace himself against a pillar then as his body protested the sudden overstrain.

"Your people worry about you," was Glorfindel's brief answer. "They were ready to fight for you. Earlier, it did not look like the awareness about the Stewardaides' works would spread here so soon. We feared that the only way to free you was by armed forces."

"Those were not my orders," Legolas hissed at him, firmly clenching his swollen shoulder.

When Tauriel approached him worriedly, he rejected her with a sharp gesture. He didn't want to be treated right now. He needed the pain – that at least was a behavior that Faramir could comprehend.

"They are being so loyal to you that they would fight for your beliefs even without any order," he realized in sadness. "Rejoice, Your Highness. In a few minutes, you'll probably be rid of the Stewardaides leader forever."

He had been more diplomatic before, yes. He wasn't surprised at all that Legolas feebly sunk down against the column. Actually, they should be trying to treat each other normal; after all, neither of them had exactly covered themselves in glory in all this.

Holding on to the last of his restraint, he rather led Beregond aside, a few feet away from the others. "What are you doing? How could you betray my trust like that?"

Elves in soldier's armor who had already entered his home under false pretenses yesterday … And his people had known about it … He was still trying to process that. While the group's intentions were laudable – did none of these people ever learn from their mistakes?

"I'm taking full responsibility," his friend assured him, his head crimson, but he didn't lower it for even a second. "I just couldn't tell friend from foe in this house anymore. I doubt that the Firstborn could have even made it to the mansion other than in disguise. When it comes to a few of these men here, I'm not sure that they'd really raise their weapons against Barhit and his guys."

"Do you really think he'll be of a bigger use to us dead?" Faramir had to stop himself actively from shaking the other man. "How many of our enemies do you think will survive this night? Not to mention the information that we need from them - the King's statement that prisoners of Gondor do not have to fear death, won't be worth a damn soon! And in our clothes no less! Did you use your brain for even a second? You said it yourself, it's hard enough to tell who of our soldier is possibly on the Stewardaides' side!"

"After everything that I learned from the elves tonight, I want to use a little trust. We can at least be sure that they won't attack us from behind. As far as Barhit is concerned … If this was any other enemy, we're talking about I would agree with you. But him, I will not be grieving. He has destroyed our troops' solidarity and almost got you on his side. He's the one keeping the King's enemies together. Without him, we're rid of the problem. If this opinion costs me my job, I'll be able to live with that. I prefer that over my leader ever being in such great danger again."

There was no need for Beregond to say how utter serious he was. After all, he had already risked his life and his job once to help Gandalf and Pippin save Faramir from dying in the flames that this own father had lit. It was only thanks to Aragorn that Beregond had been given a new purpose in Emyn Arnen afterward. And he'd accepted that honor back then, too, only to protect Faramir at all costs.

Ever since then, this man had been the White Company's loudest voice. Faramir would need him to get the soldiers back into a straight line. They would need to reconcile for that first, so that they could soon present coherent leadership again. That wouldn't be a matter of just a few minutes.

"Take care of this. But do kindly make sure, as many of them as possible can still talk afterward." It had been long since he'd last given any order so reluctantly … and since he'd last been so glad when someone had taken responsibility for him just a second later.

"I hope you're not talking about anyone I know." With a weak smile, Aragorn made his way through the throne room, with Langhour by his side.

It had taken them longer than hoped to get through the groups of surprised guards, not least because Langhour had eyed every one of them attentively to make out possible traitors in dark grey armor. Since the thought that he'd possibly not be able to stay on his feet much longer had crossed his mind more than once, Aragorn was very glad to finally get to the Steward.

It took another load off his mind to notice an elf sitting near the door who often happened to be quite stubborn recently. Legolas was injured but he was alive. For now, that was all that counted, and Tauriel's brief gesture let Aragorn know that he wasn't needed over there, not immediately at least, and maybe he wasn't wanted anyway. What Aragorn had learned about the elves' march on Emyn Arnen concerned him deeply. In the last few days, he'd had more than enough chances to realize how much not only the Stewardaides but he himself, too, was to blame himself for this irrational side of his Companion coming to light. This was nothing you could solve in the middle of a conflict situation. Still, this time Aragorn definitely couldn't wait again until it was too late to finally tear down this damn wall between them.

He didn't exactly rejoice when he lay eyes on another person next to his friend that he knew only fleetingly but would have recognized anytime, with the same thick, gold blond hair, the same ocean blue eyes.

Thranduil's presence was really the last thing this conflict had needed to escalate for good. Aragorn could only strongly hope that the King had stayed out of everything that had even looked like an act of war and would keep on doing so.

No matter how badly he wanted to try and find that out and most of all wanted to take care of his Ring Companion, first, he had to turn to Faramir. Instead of hugging the Steward amicably as they'd often used to do, he put a hand on his shoulder. Not only because of the distance that the conflict had created between them. He nodded at his own only tolerably bandaged injuries, to explain why he was being so late and why wouldn't be able to help in a possible fight half as strongly as usual.

"Seeing my friends alive gives me hope. To make sure it will stay that way, I've sent part of your men down the hill. Riders in old Ranger armor are on their way here. They were right behind Langhour and me. It can't take long before they arrive. They probably suspect that something went wrong and want to come to their leader's aid. Barhit must have already posted them nearby. Your people won't be able to deal with all of them at once."

Faramir couldn't bite back a short grin about Aragorn having gone back to execute his office as King and leader so naturally, in spite of the events of the last few days. The worry in his eyes remained though.

While Faramir had seen Aragorn injured before, he'd last been so battered after the Stewardaides' attack in January. Quickly cleaning himself up in a stream and putting on some of Langhour's spare clothes couldn't hide that.

"Then we'll have to take the necessary measures to protect those in here who can't do it themselves right now. Including you. You've been through enough."

With a concerned expression, Faramir got the Ring of Barahir out of a belt pocket and gave it to Aragorn. "I feared the worst. How is Arwen doing?"

"She's alive. The healers' examination will show for how long she'll have to suffer from the consequences of the kidnapping." Aragorn put the ring on which gave him a good excuse to avoid Faramir's questioning glance. The thought of what could have happened to the child would only have robbed him even of his last strength now.

"Mithrandir, Langhour, and your men outside have already told me a lot. For now, is there anything else that I need to know that I cannot see in here?"

Faramir's answer had Aragorn's expression darken at once.

He signaled Langhour to run outside. "Search the premises and help the guards in battle. If you find Barhit, make sure that he doesn't flee, no matter what it takes."

"Is it necessary that he can still move afterward?" One eyebrow raised, the Dúnadan drew his crossbow.

"If you insist on carrying him everywhere henceforth, be my guest."

Aragorn shook his head with a sigh and then did it again when Faramir made a move to limp after the warriors, probably out of reflex already. He got in his way without even thinking about it.

"What?"

"You're in no condition to fight." The Steward's expression spoke volumes, and Aragorn soothingly raised his healthy hand. "And neither am I, no matter how little I like it. We'll stay here with your wife and wait for it to be over. Right now, you can't be meeting the Stewardaides anyway."

"Why?" Faramir wanted to take an aggressive step towards Aragorn and almost collapsed. There was not only pain in his face but especially anger for himself, all his doubts about his own self. "Do you think I could fall for them again, all without poison this time?"

"Do I have to hit you in that side first that you're so busy clutching before you stop being so stubborn?" Aragorn clenched his fists in irritation but quickly pulled himself together. That wouldn't have got them anywhere.

"I don't trust you less than before. I will need you by my side in the next few weeks and years. But right now, you can hardly hold a sword. None of us wants to have to carry your body in here later. A leader has to know when it's time to trust others, Faramir. Please be rational. I don't have the strength right now to run after you and drag you back into the throne room." It was a joke, but Aragorn really just wanted to sit down somewhere right now. If he didn't, judging by the pain throbbing in his arm, his shoulder would give him unpleasant trouble soon.

"As you wish." Still not completely convinced, Faramir dropped back on his throne and asked Éowyn by gesturing left tiredly, to pull up an additional chair by his side for Aragorn.

Then he turned a servant curiously watching everything from the top story. "Have the hall locked until the fighting noise outside stops."

"Very well, Steward." Visibly anxious, the young man ran off.

Already on his way to a duty that had been nagging on his mind the whole time already, Aragorn let his eyes wander over everyone present, to make sure there wasn't possibly a hostile face in this room, too. That made him notice something on Thranduil's belt that had him pause. "I know your love for elvish artwork, Your Majesty, but this sword was actually not supposed to leave my possession again so quickly."

Relieved, he took back his dagger – the gift from Lady Galadriel –, and especially Andúril. The Stewardaides had robbed him of more than just a weapon in Lossarnach. The legendary blade would have been a bad loss.

Thranduil just nodded at him for a short but definitely respectful moment, then he took care of Legolas again who had apparently fallen into icy apathy.

He hardly looked up either when Aragorn dropped next to the two of them arduously and asked Legolas quietly if it was alright for him to take a look at his injuries. A jerky nod was all that came.

Taking one glance under those hastily wrapped bandages didn't exactly improve Aragorn's mood.

"I can repair the muscles", he explained upon both Thranduil's and Tauriel's questioning glances from the side.

"And that can wait until the threat of a new war outside is gone. But the infections in your body still damage the tissue far too much, Legolas. That's something we need to remedy right now."

Unfortunately, his ways of doing so were still limited in spite of the new bag with healing herbs on his belt that Langhour had given him, as long as he could hardly lift his hand. And right now, Tauriel was needed just as urgently for making sure, her husband wouldn't be the next Imladris elf at Cair Andros who could no longer move his arm.

"I'll be right back." With gritted teeth, he pushed himself upright again but immediately swayed because the world started to spin around him until a plenty harsh, kingly hand on his arm supported him, accompanied by an impatient eye-roll.

"Alright, alright. But then I'll have to ask you to get to work at that fireplace over there, Your Majesty. That tea can't wait."

"His Majesty should rather stay with his son. Tell me what you need." Unexpectedly, Éowyn came to stand next to Aragorn. Maybe for the first time since this unpleasant little scene in the war, there wasn't even the smallest hint of pain or blame in her eyes when they caught Aragorn's gaze. And it was very clear that just like him, she wanted to make up for things that had gone wrong between all of them in the last few months. Especially towards the elves.

That was why he didn't deny her wish though he hoped strongly that the young Rohiril was having fewer problems making tea than stew ...

He didn't crouch down next to Legolas again because he legitimately had to fear, he wouldn't be able to get up anymore then at last, not before he hadn't had at least a cup of strengthening tea himself, but he bent down to his Companion far enough to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Emyn Arnen is calling for me. But when I come to see you next, Legolas … Will you be ready to listen then? I owe you more than one apology."

"Once all of this is over." Legolas' voice sounded similarly empty as his expression looked but at least he fleetingly touched Aragorn's hand with his good one, and not to push it away. "Right now, I can only think about my people's safety."

Aragorn could very much comprehend that. And at least, Legolas' first thought didn't seem to be his revenge upon his enemies any longer. That was an important first step.

Of course, the Prince still wasn't ready in any way for a conversation that the future relations between Men and Elves might depend on.

If Aragorn was being honest, neither was he; therefore, he was quite glad to be able to sit down silently for now.

All they could do now was wait.

"Your Majesty, can you hear me? How do you feel?"

Arwen had to blink a few times to identify the blurry image in front of her eye as a room in the Houses of Healing.

It took her even longer to realize who was talking to her, who the young woman with the wild dark curls sitting next to her was. "Ranír?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. When I heard that you had returned, I hurried here immediately. I didn't want you to be all alone when you woke up." The young handmaiden got up from her spot by the sickbed and lit some more candles.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I'm still quite tired, and it feels like Alagas is galloping in circles in my head. But at least it's no longer as if I could collapse any second."

With some effort, Arwen sat up and reached for the cup of water that had been prepared for her on the nightstand. Only when she swallowed the clear fluid, she noticed the salty taste in her mouth. She looked questioningly at her handmaiden who pointed at an empty plate.

"We could pour a bit of soup down your throat. There's some left, in case you're still hungry."

As if on command, Arwen's stomach growled which had Ranír laugh. "Wait, I'll go get it."

Only when the numbness in Arwen's mind subsided, the last days' memories rained down on her like a summer downpour. The fear for her child immediately arose in her again. She wanted to know if they had examined her already, but before she could call for a healer, Ranír came back and put the soup down next to her.

"Please, eat. You're still so pale." The young woman sat down again and reached for a basket with sewing utensils that Arwen hadn't even noticed. "Just tell me if you want me to get you a dress so that you can finally get rid of that dirty thing. I can have a bath prepared for you as well."

"Later. Where are the healers?" Today, her servant's chitchat that usually never failed to cheer her up, got on Arwen's nerves after a few seconds already.

Ranír cared very much about Arwen, that she knew, and was one of the few people at the court at all to know about the child. Therefore, especially, she shouldn't be stalling now though.

Arwen made a move to get up, to look for someone to ask on her own, but sank back down on the bed immediately because she was feeling dizzy again.

Without waiting for an order, Ranír helped her to lay down comfortably again. "Ioreth just went to see another patient for a moment. I'm sure she'll be back soon. She wanted to talk to you anyway. Please stay on your back until then. If she sees that you're asking too much of yourself, I'll be in trouble. I'm supposed to take care of you."

Arwen stared at the ceiling with tight lips. These few more minutes that she was supposed to wait to have certainty about what was really going on with her child, were worse than all the days of fear before.

That Ranír calmly reached for her sewing kit again and even started to hum away now, made her lose it at last. "What are you doing?"

The handmaiden looked up and blushed. "I thought to make a plush animal. Here, it's going to be a horse." She held up something in the shapes of a little horse indeed, complete with a finely embroidered face and a mane made of threads. The fabric had almost the same dark brown color as Alagas' fur. "I would have made a doll, too, but since we don't know what the little one will look like, I had no idea what would have fit them."

Arwen stared at her for a confused moment, then she finally understood. "Does that mean …?"

Nervously, Ranír let her eyes wander to the door. "Actually, Ioreth didn't want me to tell you yet. She wanted to examine you again when you're awake, to go sure." But then a smile spread on the young woman's face. She was fortunately far too bubbly, and also too compassionate to keep something like this to herself. "But she thinks that everything is fine with your child."

She paused when a few first tears ran down Arwen's face. "Your Majesty?"

Arwen threw her arms around her handmaiden and broke into uncontrolled sobs before she even know what was happening. The last days and hours had just been too much for her.

It was clear that Ranír didn't quite know how to react. A little clumsily, she caressed Arwen's hair. "Calm down, Your Majesty. You have to gather your strength, for you and the child."

Arwen backed away in embarrassment, quickly trying to dry her tears. "Forgive me. In that dungeon, sometimes I couldn't even breathe right because the fear for the baby was choking me. Hearing it now …" Her words failed her. She couldn't stop beaming.

"Come on, show me the toy."

Ranír played coy for a moment because she wasn't done yet, but finally, she handed Arwen the stuffed animal.

Touched, she tugged on the mane a little and pressed the animal carefully to her belly. She felt overrun with unexpected happiness. In the course of the victory of Rohan's and Gondor's troops over Sauron, Arwen had witnessed much that she had thought impossible. But now she had her own little miracle on top of that, and that almost counted even a little more than everything else.

Ranír reached for the plate again. "You need to eat, Your Majesty. It will get cold otherwise, and Ioreth will scold us both. She's the only one I know who talks to you and the King so insolently when she's angry."

"If she has any more good news about the baby, I'm even fine with her screaming at me for a while."

Arwen realized for the first time that she hadn't prepared anything for the baby at all yet. This stuffed toy was the first real sign that a baby's fine voice would soon sound through the King's House. Though hiding her pregnancy no longer would be dangerous, Arwen longed for the day when loose fitted dresses wouldn't be able to hide her belly anymore. Then she would finally be allowed to be openly happy.

Since her stomach was making itself loudly known once more, she finally started to eat, glad to finally be able to do that again after all these days. Besides, the short excitement had also not made her forget what was going on outside in the streets. There would be even more stress for her tonight. She would need all the energy for that that she could gather in a short time.

After Ioreth had assured her several times that everything was alright as far as she could tell, Arwen tried to sleep for a while. She had a funny feeling, the healer would strap her to the bed if she tried to prepare a speech before she was being told that her condition was good enough.

She had just dozed off when a quiet knock on the door had Ranír jump up to send the visitor away. "The Queen really needs some silence. Please come back later."

"I don't have much time. I'm begging you. I only want to talk to her for a moment."

Arwen opened her eyes in confusion. Didn't she know that voice from somewhere … She signaled her handmaiden to let the guest in.

And that was when the scales fell from her eyes. Deep anxiety spread in her.

It was the mother of the little girl that Aragorn had tried to save in Lossarnach. Arwen recognized the same ash-blond hair that her daughter had had.

The mother surely believed the words in the Stewardaides' flyers too. The little one had probably died lonely and in great pain on this empty road where Aragorn and Arwen had let themselves be overpowered, and her parents had had to find her there …

"I am so sorry. I know that words won't make a difference, but we really wanted to help your child."

Arwen couldn't even finish saying her words filled with guilt and grief before the woman interrupted her gently. For someone who'd lost her child, she seemed weirdly relaxed …

"I admit, I didn't know what to think about the rumors. That's why I traveled here. First, I really thought you'd left us alone. But when I arrived, they took me to my daughter immediately." Tears of joy glistened in the woman's eyes. "A farmer from a neighboring village found her and brought her here, shortly after you had vanished. The healers could only save her because the King had already treated her so well. She'll be completely alright."

Arwen couldn't help but put a hand on her heart in relief. "You don't know how glad I am. The King tried to get the Stewardaides to get at least the child to safety, but these men didn't care a bit about Amina's fate. It was them who left your daughter behind to die."

"I believe you." The woman lowered her head to show the Queen her respect. "I saw how much you suffered at my child's bedside. And that's what I'll the people out there if you want me to. I was so afraid that something could have happened to you! I'm very happy you're doing alright."

"'Alright' is the exaggeration of the day," Ioreth remarked who had noticed the visitor and wasn't happy about the disturbance at all. "You've upset Her Majesty enough for now."

As resolute as ever, the healer with the tight grey bun sat down by Arwen's bedside and felt her forehead. "You have to take it easy, or your condition will grow worse again."

Amina's mother who had excused herself with an embarrassed smile was almost knocked down on her way to the door.

"Your Majesty!" Without even knocking, one of Aragorn's advisors entered the room, completely out of breath. His tunic stuck to his considerable belly sweat-soaked. The man who had seemed overwhelmed already at the meeting earlier was completely at an end now.

"People pushed into the Citadel courtyard past the guards. Verilas has no way to calm them down. They're demanding that we arrest all the elves who live at Cair Andros immediately or kill them right away. They don't believe us that the King is alive."

"I'm sure they'll calm down even less if the Queen faints right before their eyes!" Ioreth didn't even let Arwen speak, furiously planting herself in front of the man.

"I guarantee for nothing if she's faced with such turmoil." She addressed her last words straight to the Queen, staring at her belly more or less inconspicuously.

Arwen hesitated and looked at Ranír for a moment who stared at the ground, swallowing thickly. They both knew only too well that every decision meant risks.

She cut the healer off with a weak gesture. "Don't. The folk surely won't wait or come here for an audience in individual groups."

After a moment of contemplating bitterly why the Valar had allowed her to make it through the kidnapping so unharmed just so that she would maybe now lose her child after all, she turned to Ranír again. "Get me one of my long-sleeved dresses. I don't want the citizens to look at the bandages on my arms the whole time."

"But … Your Majesty … You can't …" Ioreth looked as if she was about to stomp her foot.

"And I don't want to do, but I don't have a choice. My husband is about to get himself in great danger in Emyn Arnen though he would need a healer by his side so much more than I do. I don't want a riot to happen within the walls of his city in the meantime. Not while I'm here."

Arwen felt the trembling in her body of the last few days starting to return. Now it wasn't just because of the deep fear for the innocent little life inside of her, but also because of her nervousness. She had never held a speech for the folk of Men. That was Aragorn's job, and hers was usually only standing by his side. In a minute, it would depend on her alone if the situation would escalate or not.

"Ioreth." At least she wouldn't be completely alone. "I want to have you by my side the whole time. If you're seeing signs that this is asking too much of me, before I know it myself, tell me immediately."

Still reluctantly, the healer nodded but started to prepare everything then.

"Is Mithrandir still in the city?" The wizard would have Arwen feel safer too. If she'd have to take a break, he would surely find the right words to stall the people for a while.

Relieved about the advisor's nod, she approached the mirror next to the window and grimaced. Even in the weak candlelight, Arwen could make it out how pale she was looking, not to mention all the dirt and blood still clinging to her skin. She had no idea how she was supposed to look healthy enough – even after bathing, with a new dress on and much powder on her cheeks – to appear as dignified and composed as they'd taught her to be in Imladris back then, at an early age, when she had been supposed to represent her realm.

It seemed, Ranír would have to prove today for the first time what she was really capable of …