When Langhour and the elves arrived at the foot of Rauros, they fell for the illusion that everything might be alright after all for a moment. There were neither any Men nor scared animals around; neither a look at the mountains of Emyn Muil nor at the fields in the south revealed anything unusual.

"Up." Glorfindel didn't even bother to stop his horse. "It has not been long since the last ship arrived."

Langhour pointed at the waterfall's side. "Taking the common road takes too long. There's a narrow path back there. It's dangerous but a well-trained rider can make it. That saves us a lot of time."

Erestor rode off before he'd even finished the sentence, visibly more restless by the second. Glorfindel didn't think he even realized that his hand kept wandering to his dagger.

He signaled Langhour to keep behind them for a moment and stared Erestor ceaselessly from the side, ever until his friend looked at him, feigning more irritation than necessary; an expression he couldn't keep up for long, given Glorfindel's knowing glance. "Did you really tell me everything?"

Erestor had a snippy answer on his lips already, but then he shook his head in resignation. "Something's wrong, that's all. I can feel it since he escaped us in Emyn Arnen. You don't have to pretend that you believe me."

"I have no reason not to."

The wall of distance melted away from Erestor; honest shock shone on his hollowed features when Glorfindel stated a fact that was as natural for him as the position of the sun or the love of the Valar, as if Erestor had never left Imladris for Gondor to make the biggest mistake of his life. "How can you still trust me?"

"Why not?" Glorfindel had been afraid for quite a while that Erestor would slip away from him completely before he could even try and free his friend's soul from the blackness that the last few months had left. That there would be countless conversations ahead that for the two of them ended with arguments on principle. Nights in the library without any sleep, maybe even a useless attempt of escape … It would also not have been impossible that his friend would prefer the easier way out by passing away from these realms.

But now Glorfindel realized that none of that might even be necessary. He had never been fond of too many words anyway. Experience had proved him right; and this time, it was enough as well, confronting Erestor with the only thing capable of breaking his isolation from everyone else since his earliest childhood, ever since Glorfindel had taken him away from his parents' bodies and taken him out of the burning city: loyalty.

It wasn't too late yet. And still, the sting in his heart throbbed with every look at the big scar on Erestor's cheek. With the memory of all the others on this formerly at least sufficiently muscled body that Glorfindel knew in every detail, thanks to more than one night spent with a kind of casual way of forgetting that was very unusual for elves. A body that seemed to be made almost only of skin and bones now. That, too, was his failure. Since the war, he'd focused on himself far too much, instead of finally straightening out this messy relationship that might have meant a lot more than either of them had wanted to admit even to themselves the whole time.

And now there was no time left for any other gesture of closeness but to helplessly, agitatedly reach to the side, and let his hand rest on Erestor's for a few long moments where it held the dagger handle. "I should have come earlier."

"No. Then you would have been next to be destroyed. And they would have targeted you as well. I couldn't allow that either way." Erestor had got himself together again. Only by listening closely could one hear a change in his voice … and draw their own conclusions about it that it had apparently not even entered Erestor's mind yet to pull his hand away. Glorfindel had rarely been so relieved to hear this bossy tone that on some days had used to drive him crazy.

"You were always the one to know what was best for me. Most of the time, you were right, but that doesn't change the fact that I was never really free of you, free of Gondolin. I paid a high price in Gondor for giving up this comfort of safety. The story of the restless wanderer never says what the hunter does once she's slain her prey. She probably surrenders to the fate of all things. That which is alive gets annihilated, mellon. That was never different. There's nothing left for me here." Only now did he gently shake Glorfindel off, not without caressing the back of his hand for a far too short moment.

"No, not here," Glorfindel agreed, with a soft smile that seemed to confuse Erestor.

But only until a long-suppressed yearning overtook him. He instinctively looked aside, at the river. "You think, I could …? With you and the others …?"

"I would personally go to beg the Valar. They owe me one, you know."

"Too bad that they didn't add a sense of good humor to the abilities you've been granted when they returned you."

There was the shadow of a smile, just for a moment, but then Erestor stopped his horse just as abruptly as he had dashed off earlier. "We're not the first ones here." His hands clenched around the reins. Extreme worry was written on his face, paired with anger that no longer knew limits. Glorfindel hadn't seen his friend radiate that much emotion in a long time.

He wasn't the least bit surprised when he followed his glance up said hill path and spotted the reason for the sudden outburst.

Barhit also saw them, almost at the same moment, and stopped. Hate distorted his face that was disfigured by bad burns and could hardly even be recognized anymore.

The man had lost. Now his bait was no longer of use for him either. To Glorfindel's horror, he raised a fist that the blade of a dagger was glistening in, apparently planning to stab the person lying on his horse in front of him immediately.

Glorfindel had to fight his first impulse to shoot that bastard on the spot, just as he saw Langhour lowering his bow a little as well, gritting his teeth. They would probably be faster, but given how restless that horse was, such a bombardment would trigger a panic that could be fatal to the defenseless person on the animal's back, since Barhit was riding too close to the sloping, uneven side of the path that the waterfall was located right under. If there was no choice they would have to risk it, but this was also about a life that might easily become the victim of an unwanted hoof kick.

And Barhit apparently knew the abilities of Elves well enough to realize that making a single wrong move or turning his back to them, he was a split second away from his demise; for now, it was only a threat. There were only a few feet between him and the foot of the waterfall, between him and the three of them … Yet he could go neither forward nor back.

Suddenly he laughed, loud and shrill; the noise of a complete madmen.

Carelessly dropping the weapon, he grabbed Tarisilya by the shoulders, yanked her down from the horse, so that she landed badly already. Her resistance sealed her own fate on top of that. He only needed to give her another quick push to put his sadistic plan into action.

The others could only watch, helplessly, when the she-elf lost her balance and fell into the raging current of the Anduin, a moment that their enemy used immediately to yank his horse around and vanish behind the next corner.

Before one of the others could, Erestor already steered his horse back down to the shore. Always keeping an eye on the river to try and possibly spot Tarisilya somewhere, he hastily got out of his cloak, boots, and weapon's belt. The few seconds that passed before he arrived right at the foot of Rauros felt like an eternity; Glorfindel almost thought to feel his friend's impatience himself. But getting into the water earlier would have meant unnecessary, exhausting swimming against the current. It would be difficult enough, fighting that almost superior force of nature.

Glorfindel could only strongly hope that Erestor could make this – or they would indeed not only lose the Princess today but also a soul that might never get another shot at life on their own. He was very tempted to follow his friend, that would have rendered his own assurance earlier moot that he still trusted Erestor, in spite of everything.

Besides, he was needed somewhere else just as much right now.

After Langhour had also accepted that Erestor insisted on attempting the rescue himself although admittedly, in his condition, he wasn't the best choice for it, it was clear to see that all his thoughts were with the hunt for this ruthless criminal again who had no respect for life at all. Unlike Glorfindel, he didn't bother with side worried side glances but focused his whole attention on Barhit.

The enemy had taken the same serpentine path upwards that he had come from, too quickly to hit him with an arrow during the short stretches when he was within sight. And now had he reached the part that was a little broader, the hill offering more cover so that it got more and more difficult to keep an eye on him. A last despaired attempt to escape his arrest that was already doomed to fail. Not to mention that the man couldn't proceed fast enough on the slippery area to get a headstart: He also couldn't know what Glorfindel spotted at the upper end of the path in relief.

Several slender, armored shapes were expecting the enemy with their weapons drawn. Probably marchwardens from Lórien, Tarisilya's escort.

"Where is he?" Langhour next to him asked in a low voice, audibly tense.

Barhit should long have reached the rocky stretch located right at the water again that didn't offer a chance to hide. He didn't come.

Instead, his horse suddenly approached the two of them, without a rider and still prancing so nervously that it would almost have tumbled down the slope.

They stopped at the same time, looking up again instinctively, but there was still nothing to be seen on the hilltop; the Galadhrim just shook their heads in confusion as well.

When Glorfindel already started to question his own wits, a tiny movement attracted his attention, visible just from the corner of his eyes. Something was clinging to the rocks a few feet above them … Not something. Someone.

Glorfindel managed to catch Barhit's eyes for a moment. The icy coldness of a life that had long lost every meaning jarred his soul; then Barhit pushed himself off the rock before Glorfindel could target him with his bow and flung himself down the waterfall.

"So he prefers suicide over the dungeon? Seriously?"

"Doubtful. Do not underestimate a driven man's resilience." This wasn't someone who just gave up. They had to go sure. "We cannot see enough here. Get back down, help Erestor."

Without waiting for an answer, Glorfindel covered the last feet to the hilltop. From there, he would be able to overlook at least part of the river's course, and would hopefully be able to intervene with an arrow if it should become necessary.

The Galadhrim awaiting him were visibly upset. "Lord …" One of the five elves bowed hastily. "I've seldom been more pleased to meet a resident of Imladris. Our captain was murdered. Someone left a trail of devastation at Amon Hen. Mostly wild animals, but we also found two dead tramps. Unfortunately, we realized the deception too late. We could follow the kidnapper here, but …"

"He has evaded my grasp as well." Glorfindel cut the warrior off and just rushed past him.

He left Asfaloth at the shore, carefully balancing over the sharp-edged rocks to the hill's farthest protruding spot. The tiny surface that you could stand straight on was so narrow that a gust of wind would have been enough to cause a fall into the deep if one wasn't careful; on the other hand, at least most of what was going on down there right by the mouth of the river would not escape his attention here. That would have to do.

Glorfindel drew his weapon and waited.

It was a more pleasant awakening because this time, Tarisilya wasn't alone. Even before the memory emerged, of the painful fall and the suction downwards that had immediately knocked her out, she felt that there was someone holding her in their arms who just unfastened the rope from around her wrists. Someone had come to help her just when she had stopped counting on it. Maybe even …?

A tickle in her throat interrupted the promising illusion. Her savior helped her turn to her side and spit out what felt like hundred liters of water before it was over and she could finally open her eyes. They were right at the shore, at the edge of the woods. The sight of the waterfall that had almost taken her life had her startle back immediately. She should probably be relieved that the unconsciousness had saved her from going through a despaired fight.

Was it even really over? What if Barhit was still around? If he noticed that she'd survived his assassination attempt … The thought had her sit up immediately; but then, a headache so strong throbbed behind her forehead that she had to let herself fall back down again.

"Don't." Though her savior had to deal with coughing fits himself, he was beside her again immediately, worming his arm back under her head and brushing a few stray strands of hair from her forehead.

Of course. Who else could have suspected what Barhit had planned?

Still, it was a shock, seeing this face of all people above you when you'd just barely escaped death. "Erestor." It hadn't been long enough since their last meeting for Tarisilya to forget how big a danger he'd brought her into because of his fanatic spy delusions.

The memory had her sit up now after all. The unspeakable fear for her child felt far too familiar. First, she had to know if her baby was alright before she could deal with this mentally insane elf.

Tarisilya closed her eyes and put her hand on her belly, trying to listen to the signals of her body and especially of her heart. She was in pain from the impact and would probably be littered in bruises soon. And the wound on her leg … She'd surely suffered a concussion as well … But right there, where the growing life inside of her was being located, there was no pain. She could feel it more by the second that this connection with her child that she had consciously allowed for the first time today, was almost as strong as the instinctive, emotional one that she had with her husband, even without a well-working marriage bond. It was like a warming touch in her soul.

Erestor watched her silently, accepting her rejection without a comment. When he saw her smile, he took an audible breath of relief. Brushing his own hair from his forehead with an exaggerated gesture he fought to regain his composure. His upper body was bare; he'd used his clothes to bandage her wound best as he'd been able to. Even a fleeting glance edged the terrible sight of the scar web that he must have marked himself with deeply into Tarisilya's brain.

But Erestor never seemed to have cared less about his physical condition. Another worry was on his mind just as much as on Tarisilya's. Getting up abruptly, he scanned the surroundings as well he could from here, especially the hills of Rauros. Everything was being silent there though. For now, they seemed to be safe.

"What happened in Gondor?" The shock from recent events subsided only slowly. Tarisilya finally wanted confirmation about nothing of what Barhit had tried to make her believe being true.

"Too much to tell you right here," Erestor replied briefly. But then he took a look back at her, and seeing Tarisilya's pleading eyes, he briefly nodded. "No losses. Ithilien is safe now. Let me know when you feel well enough to stand up. We need to get to the others."

In her relief, Tarisilya realized only belatedly what he'd just said. The others? Raising her head, she spotted a small group of elves on one of the hills on the other side of the river, probably her bodyguards.

Now she could understand it even less why Erestor of all people had taken this risk. In their last conversations, he really hadn't left the impression that she did still mean a lot to him.

"Why?" The word didn't start to describe how she was feeling inside, how intensively everything was crashing down on her that had happened since her wedding, now that it was over. There was so much of it that she didn't understand, so much that had shaken her whole worldview … And all she had been able to do the whole time was helplessly watch people important to her suffer. Just for once, she wanted someone to talk to her with more honesty than sometimes even her husband used. "Why did you do all this, Erestor?"

Was that not a question she already asked him? Only when Erestor turned around to her, after a long moment of hesitation, she remembered, suddenly feeling ice-cold. She almost asked him to be silent, as if that would have made a difference. The dream … Only a dream; at least that was what she had always tried to tell herself so far. No vision, no premonition … But she got up now as well, breathing quickly, tense, almost expecting to hear the battle cries of some orcs somewhere nearby or see one the Ranger uniforms of the Stewardaides.

Erestor didn't notice her conflict at all. He stared at the ground in concentration as if it could grant him absolution. "I had to act. Last time I just sat back and waited though I knew in my heart there was a conspiracy going on around me, Gondolin fell and my family died."

In a way, that made sense, and Tarisilya knew far too little about this tragedy at the end of the First Age, to try and talk Erestor out of this obviously deeply rooted self-blame. Someone else should have done that long ago, someone far closer to him if this eccentric stubborn elf would just finally have confided in anyone.

"Why did you want to start this whole thing so badly alone though? We would all have been there for you …" Really? She of all people who had had nothing but rejection and aggression to spare for Erestor, because of an old fight, though the librarian had come to Gondor on his own free will to help? Tarisilya's cheeks flushed instantly when she once more realized that she, too, had her own share of responsibility regarding this whole story.

"I tried to tell you that already. They were there from the start. From the moment they first addressed me, even before Elessar's coronation, I knew that everyone I'd try to warn about them would be in danger. Whenever I tried anyway, suddenly one of them was near. I couldn't have guaranteed that I would be fast enough to protect those closest to me. Do you remember this night on the city wall with that Hobbit? I wanted to tell you then, but then that soldier suddenly stood right next to you."

"I remember." The repeated realization that it had been Tarisilya's unruliness, too, that had kept Erestor from solving all this in a better way, ashamed her just as much as the memory of how this one argument that night had ended. By now, her cheeks were all but burning.

Suddenly, Erestor could hardly bite back a grin. "That was quite the slap."

With a groan, Tarisilya hid her face in her hands. "Yes, yes, sure. Come one, say it again, give it to me. Immature, spoiled, uncouth …"

"No really, you really leaned into that." He audibly had fun, teasing her a little, and maybe she deserved that. "You'd practiced that for centuries, didn't you?"

"Stop it!" That she would suddenly be able to laugh again with this elf of all people, the way she had in this one summer in Imladris, was the last thing she'd expected today. "And no, but I did often think about it if you need to know. It didn't feel half as good then as I thought it would though."

"I deserved it anyway." Erestor quickly became serious again. Motioning her to sit back down, he took another look at her bandage, washed the gaping wound with a little bit of water from the river, under Tarisilya's tormented hissing. That was probably easier than looking at her.

"I'm a bastard. I've been a bastard all my life. I never found another way to not let people get close to me. It's a kind of self-preservation, you know? Can't lose no one else when there's no one in your heart."

"That sounds like a damn lonely life." Shaken, Tarisilya grabbed his hand, kept him from continuing to dabble with something that she would properly have to take care of herself in a minute anyway. Right now, it was far more important to treat a far older injury. She wished, Glorfindel would have been here right now to hear all this. She would make sure Erestor would repeat it once his old friend would be close next time. At least that much she owed him, for helping her baby and herself so much today alone.

"Yes. But I didn't know how to put an end to it. The only times when I didn't feel like I was long dead already, was when I was with this idiot with the golden hair. Or with you back then." After squeezing her hand for a moment, Erestor let go of her as if he wanted to make sure that she would not misunderstand this revelation, not again.

"Not because of us, I … I don't think I ever was in love with you, Ilya. It was the idea of catching up with a youth I never had that I was chasing. In this summer back then, much could have changed. I realized that only far too late. And instead of thanking you, also of thanking you for keeping us from throwing ourselves into something completely ridiculous … I think that was one of the reasons why I wanted to do something useful for your settlement at Cair Andros. There was something I needed to make up for, to both you and your husband. The fact that everything went wrong from the start can't change how much I always cared about you, Ilya. That was all I tried to tell you in all these letters that you never wanted to read ... That you straightened my path at least a little, in a time when I didn't even know that I was headed for an abyss. I didn't want hate to be the only thing remaining from that encounter."

Only at the last syllables did he make it to raise his head. Now it was his dark eyes that were pleading.

The sight had Tarisilya forget the dream for good. Nothing had happened; just confused images in her sleep, just like she'd thought. There was one thing she'd learned early in her life in Lórien: The future was always in motion. There were reasons why she had always refused to look into the mirror in Lady Galadriel's garden. She didn't want to waste any thought on things that might happen. Her life was happening in the present, and for that alone, she needed all the strength she could muster up. Most of the time, more of it.

For example, in moments like these, when one realized for good that one had met someone with far harder feelings than he'd actually deserved it for long centuries.

She would maybe never be able to look at Erestor without remembering his hurtful words in Imladris back then, or of the aggression that he had attacked her with in the open street, but she could understand him a little now.

"I'm not the one you will have to answer to." When he started to turn away in disappointment, she raised her voice a little so that he wouldn't run again immediately. "I owe you very much, Erestor. But if I need to speak for you though, talking to Lord Elrond and His Majesty Elessar, that won't be the reason for me to do it. I will because I know now that your heart has never gone astray."

"Thank you. But that won't even be necessary anymore." With a serenity that she didn't know from him, Erestor knelt down at the shore and let his fingers glide through the water absent-mindedly. Her peace offering was visibly more than he had hoped for; that hunched look had finally melted away from him. "My fate is no longer in the hands of some ruler."

"Still, once we'll get to Minas Tirith …" Tarisilya paused. No, this was too important to delay. "Can we talk? There's still so much between us that will take more than a few minutes to straighten it out."

Again, Erestor refused. "My time on Middle-earth is up, Ilya. I'll travel to Mithlond as soon as today, and with any luck, I'll have company. I finally want to leave the darkness behind. When our paths cross next, things will be different for us. There will be much that we'll see through different eyes, I hope."

"I would love that." That came from the heart, and not only because her own yearning for the west, especially for her family, was still torturing Tarisilya. She wished, she could follow Erestor's example, choose the path that every Firstborn willing to leave was destined to walk on sooner or later. But she couldn't just drop everything. There was too much that bound her to this world for that – and actually, it was the same for him.

"Do you not even want to say goodbye? Get your things?"

"They say, you don't need much in the west. Besides, I never had anything that was really important to me. I don't even want to know what my poor library must look like right now. Let the Lord and the walking double plague of Imladris take care of that. There's a new beginning waiting for me."

There did seem to be one more thing on his mind after all though. Melancholy overcame him that Tarisilya still knew very well from their first meeting. "Sadly though, I guess I'll never finish writing my book now."

A gentle smile curled on Tarisilya's lips before she knew it was coming. This year had brought many bad and especially unnecessary things, but there had also been some among them that had actually made sense, only she hadn't realized immediately. For example, that a sometimes still very young she-elf had discovered how much it could help, putting your thoughts into writing, the way, a certain Noldo of Imladris had taught her a long time ago.

"Maybe you should look for someone to continue it for you. Wasn't it you who once told me, they always need a watcher?"

Shocked by the hidden offer, Erestor got up, tilting his head a little with a questioning frown, apparently pondering if he had really got her right. When Tarisilya nodded at him solemnly, an honest, broad smile lit his face for the first time since she knew him.

At the next moment, a jolt went through his body that had him stagger forward a step. A huge arrowhead protruded from his chest, right from the spot above his heart. Within split seconds, every shine left his eyes. Toppling over, he lifelessly hit the shore's damp grass. An arrow shaft, dark with the water of the Anduin, stood out from his back.

Tarisilya's mind refused to accept what she had just seen. With her mouth hanging open, she stared down at the scene completely motionlessly, when another arrow only barely whistled past her and a scream sounded a few feet away, at a group of rocks by the shore that had been impossible to observe completely, neither from here not from above. A third shot from the other side of the river, aiming at the current, then a body fell heavily into the water.

The loud splatter was the last thing Tarisilya noticed consciously.

There wasn't even any blood. No blood, no movement, and no more breathing, not the smallest sign that she could have made any kind of difference.

She didn't even manage to get there. She could only kneel sit here in the grass, with her eyes wide open, and try to understand that for the second time today, an elf had been killed in her presence.