No one recognized Arwen when she was smuggled to the King's House through the crowd, protected by soldiers and disguised with a long cloak for now, just like Mithrandir and Ranír.
Only shortly before they reached the entrance, someone became aware of them. With his striking appearance, it wasn't that easy to hide for Mithrandir.
"There's that wizard with the she-elf again!" The man raised a long, thick rod threateningly.
Many other citizens were armed in some way as well; you could even make out some swords in the crowd.
"She surely belongs to these criminals of Cair Andros!"
"Stop them!" the next person demanded. "They cannot escape!"
A few people tried indeed to surround the small group.
Arwen could see a deep sadness in Mithrandir's eyes when he raised his staff and knocked it on the ground. A bright blue ray of light surrounded them and the soldiers which had the people startle and withdraw.
Mithrandir's usually so gentle voice became a deep roar that echoed even far beyond the court. "People of Minas Tirith, do you not know your own Queen when she's standing right before you?"
Arwen pulled back her hood and let her eyes wander over the groups of men. The image reminded her far too much of her experiences at the Black Gate. This time, people's anger wasn't directed at the enemy from the east though, but at the elves of all people, and at their own King as well.
One of the soldiers moved to step forward and push back a man standing at the front whose sword was raised for an attack.
Arwen stopped the warrior. "Wait. Give them a moment to understand."
Partly in awe, but partly mistrustfully, as well, people retreated when they realized their mistake.
"Why didn't they tell us that the Queen is back in the city? Are they trying to play us for fools? Why is she sneaking around here like a criminal?"
"Maybe she's joined her people at Cair Andros after all! Didn't I tell you?"
"What if the Queen also means to harm us?"
Mithrandir lowered his voice a little, but it was still easy to hear how much the situation annoyed him. "If you can't even believe what you see with your own two eyes but prefer to attack every stranger, how is your leader supposed to feel safe among her own folk?"
But reproaches wouldn't change anything now, so Arwen tried to mediate. "I've been a little weak earlier and needed to see the healers. As the King's advisors have already told you, I've been held captive by the Stewardaides for days. I'm still not completely well, but I've come to see you because my folk is demanding answers and deserves them, too."
Mithrandir tried to get the people to at least listen in a different way. "Are men in this city trusting me so little? Then let Her Majesty pass at least so that she can speak somewhere where everyone can hear her."
The reproach hit home. People who had personally seen Mithrandir fight for Minas Tirith back then, stepped aside first so that the soldiers could escort Arwen to a soft armchair that had been prepared for her, made of preciously carved, white wood. It had been placed right before the stairs to the Tower, protected by a couple of guards so that she was still being close to the people but could talk to everyone without fear.
Ioreth didn't leave her side, staying close behind her while Mithrandir remained in the background.
People's voices became an unintelligible tangle of questions, shouts, and prompts so that no one could understand anything anymore. Mithrandir had to use another ray of light first, sizzling above the crowd, before the men paused.
"Where is the King?" the man at the very front shouted. "Why is he leaving his people alone again?"
"The King's not even alive anymore," another one said cynically. "These crazy Firstborn have ghosted him! No offense, Your Majesty. We know that you are nothing like them. And those of you who left Middle-earth are surely good people as well. But these Woodland Elves have lost their minds."
"Why should the elves kill him? He's always supported them," a woman in the back mentioned. "No, no, I heard they killed the Steward so that they are undisturbed in Ithilien. And soon they'll come here, too!"
"No one killed the Steward," Arwen flared up. "He's in his residency in Emyn Arnen. If you want to know what really happened in Lossarnach and afterward, put your weapons down immediately. I will not allow citizens of my realm to threaten each other!"
A few men followed the order hesitatingly, others clung eagerly to their rods and clubs.
"We have to defend ourselves", the first man insisted. "When the elves come, we have to be prepared. After all, they threatened us before. Here, right in this yard! Everyone heard it!"
A few others who remembered the mourning ceremony back then agreed.
"No one will come to attack the city!" Arwen had to regain her composure for a moment because she was already feeling dizzy again … and because in some way, she could understand the men.
This reaction of the citizens was exactly what Aragorn had already feared after Legolas' first wrathful words back then. She wished her friend had been here right now, to see for himself what he had brought about there in his understandable grief. He had never wanted to believe the kind of consequences his deeds could have, and now Arwen had to try and prevent the worst.
Mithrandir eyed her worriedly, but she just shook her head. It was now or never.
"Don't you realize that it's you posing danger right now? You are once more blindly believing some flyers and grabbing your swords immediately. What would you have done if I hadn't shown up? Have you forgotten already that it was a she-elf who healed the King when he was on the brink of death after an attack by the Stewardaides? What happened to you that makes you want to see blood so badly? Haven't you felt the terrors of war? Was that not enough violence for you?"
Keeping her calm wasn't exactly easy when you realized more with every word how much all of this really concerned and shocked you. Arwen had to fold her hands so that no one would see her tremble when she summarized recent events in short, clear words. She also didn't forget to mention what Mithrandir had learned from Faramir, that the Stewardaides had secretly long had occupied Emyn Arnen and that the elves had tried to help with their admittedly very clumsy appearance there.
"Well? Are you proud of worshipping such people? You believe murderers and cowardly traitors who sacrifice innocents for their sick purpose, can't you see that?"
Confused silence prevailed for a few moments; then another voice somewhere in the crowd spoke up. Probably one of the Stewardaides remaining in the city who saw his group ceding ground. "Who says that all of this is true? This child from Taur Adab, it died anyway! The King didn't help them either! He always lets people die who are not important enough to him."
"My child is not dead!" Arwen hadn't even noticed that Amina's mother had followed her. The woman pushed through the people and repeated that sentence over and over until every single man had must have heard it. "Do you want to see her with your own eyes so you can believe it? Shall I take her here so that all that fuss makes her perish after all?"
The woman put her hands on her hips and took a look around, with her head held high. "I'm here to speak on behalf of the royal couple. I'm standing here right among you, without a weapon. Do you dare to silence me? The two of them tried in vain to save my little girl! We don't even deserve leaders who care so much! How can you be so ungrateful?"
"Why didn't the King come here to tell us personally?" The farmer at the very front didn't want to calm down. "Why does he need to send his wife? Maybe he's afraid to show himself because his conscience isn't that clean after all? He sent her here alone though she's allegedly doing so badly! Is that how much he cares?"
Arwen jumped up before she was able to hold herself back and stepped forward which made the man retreat. For the first time, she wondered if it was really worth it, her husband risking his life for these people right now.
"The fear for his own child made him do so!" When she realized what she was saying, she startled and looked at Mithrandir questioningly as a clutter of voices arose. Her damn exhaustion had exacted its toll and made her thoughtless for a moment, had made her emotions run wild. Now she had to make the best of it, it seemed.
She sat down again, looking at the wizard once more who nodded at her seriously. Now the cards had to be put on the table.
"The King is marked badly by the kidnapping, but he's gone to Emyn Arnen anyway, out of worry for the Steward and his folk. He's sent me here so that I could get to a healer faster. After many days of fear, now I know, fortunately, that my prayers to the Valar have not been in vain. The King on the other hand still has to bear the uncertainty if his unborn child is still alive because he's trying to avert danger for all of you as so often. Don't you dare blame him for that ever again."
"Why didn't they tell us?" a woman asked, audibly disappointed and offended. "Why is the folk not allowed to learn something so pleasant?"
"You actually have to ask?" Stunned, Arwen stared at the farmwoman. "Wasn't this kidnapping reason enough? The King and I knew exactly that the Stewardaides would do their utmost to prevent this child from ever being born. Do you think I'd still be alive if they knew about my pregnancy?"
Only now, Mithrandir came to stand beside her. "Shouldn't it give you pause that you meet your leaders with so little trust that they have to keep even such wonderful news a secret? Because one has to worry, someone on the streets will attack the Queen from behind when she comes to visit people there? You listen to words of slander and turmoil, citizens of Gondor. Don't be surprised now that you are being treated with the same distrustfulness."
More and more weapons were being dropped. More and more people turned away because they started to feel ashamed of their words.
The fear remained though. It wouldn't wear off so quickly. The Stewardaides and the elves, too, had made too many mistakes for that. "As long as these people are being in our prison, we're not safe," the man who had had the most doubts grumbled. "Who says that these fanatic savages aren't just waiting for the King to lock all the Stewardaides away, just to attack them here then?"
"If you ever dare to insult my kin again in my presence, I will take appropriate actions." Arwen wiped her eyes in exhaustion but withstood her opposite's angry look.
"It's the Stewardaides threatening Gondor, not the elves, and our guards are prepared for everything. The citizens do not have to burden themselves with soldier affairs in any case. If it should ever come to a fight here again, it will be these courageous men fighting it for you. These warriors have already stood their ground for the Free Folks at the Black Gate. They will keep the capital safe anytime as well. And one of the reasons for the King being in Emyn Arnen is to prevent even more suffering. Until he comes back, nothing will change about the placement of the Stewardaides. In the prison, they pose the least harm for this realm."
While many people started to understand and retreated, one after the other, others were still hesitating and were having discussions. But in the end, most of them agreed that they could wait for another few hours.
"And what if the King doesn't come back?" an especially stubborn man asked when the yard was almost empty.
Arwen had got up already and reached for Mithrandir's arm, seeking purchase when those words put an arrow to her heart. It was one thing, knowing what an excellent warrior you were being married to, but another to know him in an injured condition and in the middle of a bad conflict.
"Then we'd have far bigger problems than the prisoners in the cells," she finally managed to say. Nothing was allowed to happen to Aragorn in South Ithilien … "Fortunately, we do not have to fear that. Not with someone who has already faced the Dark Lord and helped defeat him."
Fortunately, there weren't any more questions.
Ioreth eyed Arwen closely from head to toe. "You have to get back to the Houses of Healing before we'll have to carry you there once more."
"Don't get me wrong: I only want to get to my chambers now. I can rest there just as well, and your medicine will have the same effect there." Arwen looked at the healer almost pleadingly when she noticed her skepticism. "I feel most safe there. I just want to go home right now, Ioreth."
The healer sighed heavily but nodded then. "Given you finally lay down and don't get up anymore until you're really feeling better, I really don't care at this point. And eat something already! You're much too thin! By the Valar, do I need to do everything myself?"
Mithrandir couldn't bite back a smirk when the Queen was basically being forced to take the stairs up to the King's House. He just quickly assured Arwen that he would make sure that it would remain quiet in the streets until Aragorn's return. Then he took out his pipe and stuffed some weed into it. This night was far from over.
When Beregond signaled him that all the men were in position, Glorfindel stepped forward but stopped almost immediately and waved at his son.
"You are these elves' military leader."
"Oh, suddenly I am again?" Shaking his head, Thondrar passed him by, passing the half-open gate to enter the garden. "But thanks for the politeness."
With the supporting shield on his paralyzed arm firmly held to his body, he came to stand in the middle of the small facility and listened into the silence. "Even your racing heartbeat betrays you, Barhit. Does it suit you to hide from certain defeat?"
"Who says I'm hiding?" When the Stewardaides leader finally raised his voice, everyone was surprised. No one had expected such a man to cower indeed between a few bushes like a scared kitten. Only when Thondrar waved at two soldiers and they approached the undergrowth, did they see how many traces fighting Thranduil had left on the man. His useless right arm hung down like a stick, and he could hardly turn his head.
"How stupid do you think I am?" Barhit let his eyes roam over Thondrar's shape disparagingly. "Your folk will choke on its own arrogance one day." He spat at the elf's feet from afar. "Unlike you who couldn't even defeat a single warg, I'm not taking any risk when I go to battle. While you're still busy enjoying your triumph, you'll die at the hands of my men who are about to arrive here. It's too bad you won't be there to witness the rise of the Steward anymore. You could have learned a lot from him about how to handle your own father despising you."
"See, that's your problem." In the light of so much blindness, even Thondrar – usually known for emotionless battle strategies –, allowed himself a brief smile. Instead of faltering under the poisonous words, he just broadened his stance, cutting off every of his opponent's escape routes. The almost useless muscles of his right hand clenched hard in the straps of his shield. Glorfindel had never been less afraid for his safety. "You think, you know everything but you learned how far a Firstborn's senses can reach out. Your reinforcements are long being expected. Do you think you will live to see the new order you're yearning for so much? That the people will cherish you for your low deeds?"
"Of course not." The smile was being returned, not even with particularly much venom. "There is no place for me in this better world. I will gladly go to exile, with the satisfaction that it was me, saving this country from being enslaved by the so-called King."
One of the soldiers stepped forward. He visibly enjoyed it to throw his words in the face of this insane man. "Then you should rather surrender immediately because so far, you didn't make it to kill His Majesty. He's waiting for you in the house of the Steward."
Before the anger about the realization could even darken Barhit's haggard face, the first battle cry of one of his men sounded on the path up to the Steward's buildings.
The new day began with arrows cutting through the air of Emyn Arnen.
Since by now, Legolas had even stopped reacting to his father, it was Tauriel next who supported the previous healers' work once more, her expression darkening when she touched his forehead. "You're still burning up. We finally need to get to a proper healing room."
"You tried what you could." Since Legolas kept on ignoring her, Camhanar approached his wife. His anger had already subsided again; the pain in his arm which was in a brace now did the rest to sap his energy. "If the King says, the injuries will heal, we should believe him and accept the situation. Though I might not like it, we knew what we were getting ourselves into."
"So, was it worth it?"
"Faramir." Éowyn tried to keep her husband in check when he started to provoke the elves once more. "Do we really need to do that right now?"
"We do. And before that battle outside ends."
He consciously looked at Tauriel because the Prince would probably not have given him an answer anyway. "After everything that the Stewardaides did to all of us, it's all the more important now that we bury the enmities between us. That's exactly why I need to know if the elves have got it now that I will suffer no more unsanctioned hostile acts, no matter the gallant motive, not even towards criminals of the realm. Judging these misguided men is only the King's job, no matter what we personally think of them. If we don't agree on that, we don't have a future in Ithilien together."
"I would be out there with the others right now if that's what you mean," Tauriel replied flatly. "I would kill anyone responsible for four of my friends being dead. Not because I want to rebel against Gondor. Not because I want to protest elves never being supposed to go to battle again once they chose to be a healer, though I guess, not even my leader would believe that. Do you think I like hurting people? It's about them. As long as they exist, my baby is in danger too."
"Why are you here then? You're missing a really good chance for slaughter right now."
"Faramir!" Éowyn never let anyone tell her to be quiet so easily, especially not when it was plain to see, her husband urgently needed a few hours of sleep to clear his mind.
Aragorn had had enough as well. "Be quiet, and I mean both of you! I'm in the room, in case someone has forgotten, and I don't need anyone to speak for me. No prisoner will be executed. No, save your breath."
After he'd reprimanded Faramir before the Steward could speak even more rash words, Aragorn turned to Tauriel. "I know the elves' attitude. I didn't suffer it in the beginning and I still don't. They have caused many issues in these lands, just like the Stewardaides did." His voice carried a clear trace of anger as well, but he was lacking the strength to flare up.
His expression turned softer, but deep disappointment remained. "If you fear for your child, why didn't you ask for help? There were other ways than courting battle. Did you really have so little faith in men and me in particular? Or did your pride get in your way? Was an attack really the better alternative?"
"The Steward's question is legit. After all, it was me being the first to kill one of them tonight when I had no other choice." Tauriel made a few steps through the room, towards the window, trying in vain to make it out in the distance, how many Stewardaides had made it up here past the White Company, how many the others had to fight.
"I just don't know if a Secondborn can understand the answer. I became a healer when I realized that I'd seen far too much violence in my life. And that I did not want to hold someone in my arms ever again when they die. Preventing such tragedies, that's the kind of work I enjoy, not killing. Not even if the victims deserve it as badly as the Stewardaides do. But I never turned my back to war completely. I thought I could just go back to battle whenever it's really necessary and take care of the wounded at the end of the day."
"Killing a living being diminishes healing abilities," Camhanar explained before Faramir could ask.
"If you killed as many beings as I did, you can't use magic anymore to heal, yes. There are a few elves, allegedly, who master both, but learning that means a long, stony path. They tell you that early when you start learning more about that art. But when you start missing the feeling of a sword in your hand, it's easy, telling yourself that's just some legends. Earlier, I felt it for the first time, because in the decades in Imladris, I learned what to look out for. When that man fell …" Tauriel's hands clenched around the windowsill. "It was as if all of that warmth was leaving me that I hoped I might be able to learn to give patients someday. If I keep on trying to live two lives, I'll lose both. There will always be something to heal but hopefully not always something to defeat. If someone isn't trying to harm my husband or my child directly, I have no reason to shed any more blood."
"Forgive me my lack of compassion." Now there was only deep resignation left in Aragorn's words. As someone who'd grown up with the elves, this information wasn't new to him of course.
This was exactly why his foster father went to battle only so rarely. Why his twin brothers had had to manage the balancing act of never dealing a deadly blow to anyone all their lives. Being torn between their love for healing and the wish to protect their folk from threats had been weighing down on them for millennia.
And Aragorn only knew only too well how hard that conflict was for Tarisilya who would have loved to help her husband with a weapon at least every now and then. She had long realized that she might not be able to help Legolas properly at some point then, when he would once more come home half dead.
He wished, at least one of these elves would have shared their experiences with this particular member of their kin.
"What was it that you expected, Tauriel? These people's death was your prime target, wasn't it? Did you seriously think, you wouldn't play an active part in that? Go ahead, be angry with me for calling you naive now, but someone who goes into battle believing they'll come back with their hands and conscience clean, shouldn't be using a weapon. It doesn't matter if you attack someone or defend your people: You're destroying what Eru once created. Complaining about the consequences afterward only shows how little thought you gave your deeds. It's easier to just follow someone blindly than to think for yourself, isn't it?"
It was more of a relief than satisfying that the she-elf turned her eyes away in shame and realization. She, at least, would hopefully not act like this anymore.
"It's become quiet." Legolas interrupted the conversation by suddenly turning his head to the door, alarmed, and getting to his feet by bracing himself on the column.
"Open the door, Steward. It's Thondrar. The ground is wet with rain. You can hear every step," he added impatiently as if he could feel the others' questioning glances though he still didn't look anyone in the eye. "Since his injury back then he's dragging his leg."
Still hesitatingly, Faramir went to the door, just when someone's fist hammered against it and opened one of the iron viewing windows. Quickly opening the bolt and lock, he eyed the elf outside in fearful expectation.
It had turned quiet indeed. At some point in the last few minutes, the noise of many hoof beats had departed. Someone had fled, others had followed them. That was all they knew.
But all that blood on Thondrar's sword and shield didn't bode well. "It's over. You and His Highness of Eryn Lasgalen should come with me, Steward. You too, Your Majesty, of course."
"Tauriel, I need you." Legolas vaguely turned towards his friend, so clumsily that Aragorn finally realized, with terror, what was wrong with the elf. He stretched out his arm towards the healer impatiently but then paused. "No. It's better if you stay here with Camhanar."
It was obvious that he was fighting with himself, searching for a trust that had long been lost. "Ada?"
"I'm here." Thranduil on his part didn't hesitate for even a second to lead his son outside, with one hand firmly on his arm. It was obviously not the first time he was doing that, and even though it had been long since the last bout as far as Aragorn knew, there were certain things that you probably never forgot.
After the first insecurity before Legolas remembered how to rely on someone else completely, they quickly caught up with the others and went to the gardens with them – to what was left of them.
Even in the weak light of the dawn, you could make out the traces of the fighting immediately. Countless destroyed plants and patches … The hedge had been torn down by the rash escape of the surviving Stewardaides ... In the course of the battle, someone had apparently started to use torches as well. They had to count themselves lucky that it had been raining tonight again and again, or it wouldn't just have been the outdoor facilities, falling victim to this conflict.
Except for half a dozen soldiers, there was no trace of the White Company. The others had surely followed the fugitives. Glorfindel seemed to have gone with them.
The rest of the men were standing nearby the group of elves, the majority of whom had shed their borrowed armor and instead raised their own weapons against the prisoners.
They had herded together more than twenty enemies in the middle of the garden, many of them injured and scared. Most of them hadn't even outgrown their youth yet. Barhit's emergency troop consisted of beginners who had probably not even really known what they were getting themselves into.
There didn't seem to have been any deaths until now; they could only see a couple of soldiers lay on the ground who were being cared for by one of the others. Judging by the elves' aggressive faces though, it wouldn't stay that way. With so many of Faramir's men gone now, they were outnumbering the White Company; the men wouldn't be able to intervene.
Aragorn stepped forward in determination and signaled the elves to retreat. Unfortunately, he had a pretty good idea of what would probably happen here in a minute if he didn't manage to calm the mood down. He had to try to let the Firstborn know, far more clearly than he had done it back then, that their pain and their wish for retaliation were being understood. And that he'd try to meet them halfway as much as his position allowed. Hoping that after all these months of him, too, having closed his eyes towards a lot of things, it wasn't too late for that.
"I do thank you for your help, elves of Cair Andros, both in this fight and in revealing the Stewardaides' secret deeds in this mansion. But now your weapons are no longer needed. These enemies are in the custody of Gondor's soldiers. They will stand trial, and their punishment for all that they have done both to members of your and my folk will not be mild. These people have taken advantage of their King's leniency and refused to come up with any peaceful solution. Whoever continues to act against the Kingdom of Gondor and the Free Folks in the name of this group and its leader, or who tries to evade the consequences for their past deeds, will forfeit their life and my grace. Now stand back and let the warriors of my army do their job."
"We will no longer back down, Your Majesty." Aragorn was shocked to realize that he knew the elf who was looking at him for a moment though he had never introduced himself to him since his arrival at Cair Andros. They had lived in Imladris together for many years and had often had training together.
"These men have done more than enough. They will never put the blame for crimes they committed themselves on elves again, or threaten our lives." The elf aimed it at one of the men cowering on the ground who tried to escape immediately only to be hit in the back with another weapon.
A few of the others closed their eyes or were looking around for help. In vain; the elves' circle around the men was too tight to be able to hope for support.
Thondrar noticed Aragorn looking his way and shook his head. "I'm not their leader; I can't give them orders. One of the reasons Ada and I brought these elves here was so that they could make their decision regarding the Stewardaides. As you can see, they did."
Again, Aragorn had to take a step he hated. That could once more destroy so much. And once again, they gave him no choice. "I think I was being clear enough. Lower your weapons! Anyone wounding one of these prisoners or worse will be treated like a prisoner as well. Every attack henceforth will be regarded as an act of war on Gondor's soil."
But the bowstrings remained tense.
The only hope he actually had left now was that Thranduil would step forward to agree with Aragorn. Although elves ignoring orders of the King whose land they were living on would probably not listen to someone either who theoretically had authority over them … It was at least worth a try.
But Thranduil was still standing silently behind his son. Whatever it was that Legolas wanted to do, he left it entirely up to him, maybe for the first time in his long life ... and with it, the future of the elves in this foreign Kingdom.