Langhour slowly emerged from the thick reed, his bow dropping into the grass next to him. As if in slow motion, he went down next to the body and felt the elf's neck though he already knew, it was useless. Couldn't there be at least a weak pulse left? Something that would at least allow for the possibility of a fight … But his fingertips couldn't find anything.

Though he hadn't really known Erestor and the short time he'd spent as his hunting companion had consisted almost of arguments only, the elf's death hit him deeply, and a hint of guilt gnawed at him though in his rational heart, he knew, of course, that he had not been able to prevent this.

Barhit had been a Ranger just like him, though one of different lands; people of their kind learned the art of camouflage early. A couple of high rocks and the wild surf had been enough for this bastard to hide from the eyes of the elves and Langhour ever until his deadly hit. Even then, the angle had still been so bad that Langhour's own attack from the distance had hardly grazed the man. Even looking death in the eye already, the bastard had still had the audacity to reach for said missile next to use it for himself. For a cruel moment of cluelessness, Langhour had been convinced that he would have to watch the she-elf die next whom they'd all come here to protect in the first place. Facing a lost duel, another arrow nocked that, just like the first one, wouldn't hit its target or not accurately enough, deflected by the water …

Tarisilya had been lucky in a way she probably didn't even realize that she was cowering so deeply here on the ground. If Barhit wouldn't have had to straighten up a little for his second aiming, Glorfindel's shot from above would probably not have meant such an effective end for him – one that was far too merciful for Langhour's taste.

But of course, the man had not died without causing as much damage as possible once more.

It was the first time Langhour had to directly witness one of the Firstborn losing their life ... An experience he could gladly have done without.

Before he really knew what he was doing, he quietly started to sing, staring at the arrow in the dead elf's body, his eyes filled with pure hate.

a thousand of years worth still standing

for one try to make it all right

finding reasons to mourn

forgot how to cherish

whenever laid to rest

Eru find me as I release myself into your arms

let thought and fear be gone

draw it from my heart until I'm spent

and peace may come at last

wandering among the clouds tonight

the ground too far to fall

eternity foregone in a breath

freed from the shreds of what once was

to dwell among the stars

the wrong turn ever waiting

the door of home is closed

weathering a storm, long lost in its eye

caught in the net of your own failed truths

draw it from my last breath

for the darkness does no longer hold fear

it's alight with the stars tonight

as I fall

wandering among the clouds tonight

the ground too far to fall

eternity foregone in a breath

freed from the shreds of what once was

to dwell among the stars

The last words on his lips, Langhour broke off the arrow's shaft and threw it to the side so that he could turn Erestor on his back and remove the missile's head as well, with trembling fingertips. It came loose with a disgusting fleshy sound that he would probably never be able to get used to in his whole life.

With a whisper, he closed the elf's empty eyes. "Find your way home. The Halls of Mandos are waiting for you. May your next life in a better place be filled with less worry and sorrow."

Only now he approached Tarisilya. The she-elf was completely in shock, he could see it at once. He needed to ask her if she was alright, though that would sound like pure scorn. Her baby's life was at stake. That her wounds weren't being life-threatening if treated quickly, he could make out from here, but not how the baby was doing.

The lack of an answer didn't really surprise him. He couldn't leave her sitting here like this though. He almost had to use violence to pull her up and lead her away. He stayed with her silently while they were waiting, touching her arm repeatedly to make sure, she remained in contact with her surroundings, even if it was just by a completely absent glance his way.

He kept an eye on her too when the others joined them, exchanging a few shocked words, and inconspicuously ushered the group a bit to the side, to grant Erestor's best friend a few moments of a first goodbye as well. It was easier to focus on someone who was a stranger to him. Tarisilya's apathy didn't tear his heart in two remotely as much as the wailing scream of a noble Lord of Gondolin, or the tears he could still see on Glorfindel's face when they walked along the river to a deserted piece of forest shortly afterward. He had to urge Tarisilya on again and again when she wanted to stop, her eyes turned to the Anduin in fear where Barhit's corpse had long been washed away.

It would be a while before he could take time to see how Glorfindel, who strode away almost as slowly and mechanically as Tarisilya, would handle this loss. The Lord wouldn't have allowed that here, in public, anyway. No matter how much it pained Langhour, not being able to do anything for him right now.

By Glorfindel's side, Asfaloth also had an especially heavy burden to carry today, not just in one but in two respects. The Galadhrim had brought the first victim on this day with them; both bodies had been hastily covered with several cloaks. It was the first time for Langhour to see the usually so lively white stallion so obedient when Glorfindel wasn't sitting on his back.

Upon their arrival at a clearing, he finally sat the she-elf down on a tree trunk. She still didn't react to anything; he wasn't making any progress here. Maybe what it took to get through to her was someone of her own folk who would understand better what was going on inside of her.

He on his part rather helped get the victims ready for transport. At least that didn't require much thinking on his part.

If there was any way to avoid it, the graves shouldn't be dug here, away from home. The soldiers would bring the dead to Lórien as quickly as possible where a little bit of elvish magic would help prepare Erestor's corpse for the tedious journey to Imladris.

The warriors also had instructions to inform both Thondrar and the group of additional warriors that Celeborn had sent without a doubt if the real message from Cair Andros had arrived by now.

Glorfindel was completely overwhelmed by the question if the Galadhrim would have company or not though. Langhour could easily see him fight himself, how much he wanted to help take care of his deceased friend but that he also didn't want to leave Legolas' wife alone. Langhour had never seen him stand around anywhere looking so lost, with his shoulders hunched and his hands trembling.

"Lord, you don't have to …" he started hesitatingly.

Glorfindel didn't let him speak. He shook himself almost imperceptively as if he'd been caught in a bad dream for a few seconds. "Leave us alone for a moment."

It could have been hours or a few minutes before Tarisilya realized, somewhere in her numb brain, that someone had come to stand before her and was staring at her. If they were saying something, she didn't hear it. She didn't hear anything at all, not even her breathing or her heartbeat. It was almost as if it was her, lying over there on the ground, never to get up again. There were no thoughts in her left, no feelings, nothing.

Only when the elf raised her chin and made her stand up, did she see that it was Glorfindel.

There had to be a reason why he had come to see her, but he remained silent. The Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, the most legendary warrior of Middle-earth who had always had advice for everything and everyone, was being faced with this situation just as speechlessly as she was. The color of his skin competed with the cloudy sky over the Rauros. The bright blue eyes once feared even by the Witch-king seemed dull and were being surrounded by small wrinkles. His hand remained on her shoulder, but it was not to free her from this condition of lethargy. He was holding on to her.

Finally, the walls crumbled. Trembling, Tarisilya leaned her forehead against Glorfindel's shoulder and started to cry.

Still not saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her. It could have been a few last drops of water from her hair that dripped over her neck, but her heart knew better.

Tarisilya's mind still refused to produce coherent thoughts; it stuck to images of the past passing by, sluggish like Anduin, so that every single one of them caused new pain. And Erestor's smile before her inner eye, again and again, a second before …

There was nothing she could have done differently. This wasn't anyone's fault. Someone who'd known Erestor only a little might even be of the opinion that this, right here, had actually been a merciful fate for him.

Tarisilya knew better. No matter for how long Erestor's soul would be caught in the Halls before a return would be granted to him at some point … Not only Lord Elrond would be missing his advisor's so very experienced mind and his pragmatic mood, particularly in this time of departure of the last elves on Middle-earth willing to go.

The loss of the one elf of all people that she'd wanted to stay away from her as far as possible for centuries, made her understand how long the prospect of eternity could be if you were reminded every day that someone had left you who had belonged to your life. Before the two of them had had a chance for real reconciliation no less.

She hoped that Glorfindel at least, during this search for her in the last few days, had got the chance to start and make amends with this elf that he'd probably been even closer to than most people had known. From how she knew Erestor, unfortunately, she doubted it.

"The elves are going back up now. The ship back to Lórien will dock soon. What about you, milady?" It was plain to see that Glorfindel didn't want to choose his own wishes over hers. So he veiled what was dear to his heart in a question. "Do you want to go back there as well?"

"There's nothing left for me in Lórien." That was a favor she just couldn't do him. She had never felt so lost, far too young, and exposed to a world that had not seemed as dark to her as today even in the war. She finally had to get to the only place that she would always call home, no matter where she lived.

Knowing that in the end, it would only be a short detour for Asfaloth's hooves and that from how she knew Lord Elrond, he would delay the funeral ever until Glorfindel would make it to Imladris in any case, calmed her conscience a little. "Take me to my husband, Lord. Please."

There were things making you laugh even when you didn't feel like it. Given how enthusiastic Gimli sounded at the walk they were taking together, Arwen couldn't help but chuckle away quietly again and again, in spite of the gloomy mood in the Citadel. And no matter how bad she felt about it, it did her well.

Since Glorfindel's letter had arrived in Minas Tirith, a shadow of grief lay over the court. Though there was hardly anyone around here who had really known Erestor well or had been close to him, everyone sensed how much the tragedy had hit the royal couple in particular.

Admittedly, neither Aragorn nor Arwen themselves had been among Erestor's closest confidants in the last few centuries, and the anger about everything he'd brought about in the Stewardaides Crisis wasn't gone yet. Still, it wasn't just the death of another Firstborn on Middle-earth itself leaving them to grieve.

The elf had been a fixed component in Imladris. You couldn't even imagine the library going without the strict, watchful glance of its head. Part of the valley had died with Erestor, though many people would realize that only later, in brief moments when they'd miss details like his book organization system.

Fretting about how hard this matter must also be on her father, her brothers and Glorfindel, weighed down on Arwen heavily, therefore she'd stayed in her chambers since receiving the news.

It had taken a lot of Gimli's persuasiveness for her to come with him. The dwarf had arrived in the city yesterday, together with Legolas, after people in North Ithilien had also learned about the letter. At Legolas' wish, Tarisilya would be taken straight to the city but that might take some more time. That the elf was in so much distress that he hardly managed to hold a conversation, had made Gimli search for a different company.

In spite of his grief though, Aragorn was very busy as usual. Today, too, he took part in a meeting in the White Tower.

Arwen had last seen Gimli at her wedding, and they hadn't been able to exchange more than a few words back then. She'd often regretted that; after all, the dwarf had been a big support for her back then after Aragorn had been badly injured by the Stewardaides. They had got to each other's heart in these few hours, and that she was having Aragorn's child probably made him like her even better. The two of them should finally get to know each other better.

At least they'd made a start today. During their whole walk, Aragorn's companion was contemplating what he should give to the baby when it was born. And on the way back to the King's House, he went seriously head over heels with partly mildly unusual proposals that distracted Arwen from the situation at least.

"A little harness? Do you really think that's what a child needs?"

"Every warrior needs that! I'm sure that at festivities, the Prince or Princess will look great in shining armor that the dwarves will forge for them of course!" Gimli straightened up a little, looking very proud, but Arwen's repeated laughter had him look quite confused.

"What is it?"

"My child will not be running around in armor before they're even old enough to learn the art of fighting." Arwen shook her head in amusement.

"Is the little one not to follow his mother's example then? You have grown up training with a sword as well, haven't you?" Gimli pulled out a pipe and started rummaging in the bag of pipeweed on his belt.

"In fact, I haven't before I was more than old enough to make that decision myself. And I only always fought to defend my valley and my folk. Unlike you, I'm not yearning for it, Gimli. I'll be there for our army at the very front if I'm being needed, but now that the war is over, I only want to reach for my sword if I don't see any other way. And I hope that my child will only seldom get in a situation that they have to draw a weapon in, though Aragorn and I will of course make sure that just like us, they'll be able to." Arwen shivered briefly. The memory of the terrible time right after the war wasn't forgotten yet.

"Well, the Lord of the Glittering Caves will find something appropriate. Though there are no jewels on Middle-earth able to match the enchanting smile, the child will inherit from their mother … A necklace or a circlet would be suitable, wouldn't it? That would be a wonderful symbol for the relationship between our folks." Drawing on his pipe, Gimli thoughtfully watched the smoke rings pull away sluggishly.

Arwen promptly blushed a little. She was already about to reply something polite when she spotted a slender figure with long gold blond hair close by.

Members of her kin who wanted to do some thinking didn't retire to the same places that men preferred. Since there were only a few trees in the Citadel, the next spot you could be relatively undisturbed in was at the city's foremost spot, at the walled spur of rock that was the courtyard. There were probably only a few people whose brains the idea of sitting on the wall there even entered. A Wood-elf apparently didn't seem to waste any thoughts on surprising gusts or attacks from behind.

Arwen eyed Legolas indecisively and looked down at Gimli questioningly who muttered something into his beard. No matter for how many long centuries the Prince and she had been very good friends, the Stewardaides Crisis had had them painfully drift apart, and they'd only just begun to properly make amends. Right now, without a doubt, his Companion found better access to Thranduil's son than she could.

"Don't look at me like that. Today, he doesn't want to talk to me either. He prefers wallowing in his pain alone once more over letting his best friend help him."

"Try not to be angry with him for that. Everyone has different ways of dealing with bad experiences." Arwen couldn't help but shiver a little at the sight of the elf sitting so close to the abyss there. Given the last few months, it was a symbol a little too fitting for her taste.

"I'm not, don't worry." Gimli tapped out his pipe and turned away. "I'd just like to help him very much, and once again, I cannot. Maybe the words of a she-elf can give more comfort than the ones of a dwarf who never had much training in supporting people having a hard time."

Arwen had half a mind to follow the Lord when he stumped away, grumbling, that was how helpless she felt. But then she approached the edge of the lookout after all.

Legolas must have heard her but he didn't turn around to her and had no word of greeting to spare for her either. He was completely absorbed with the sight far below, and in some way, that was actually a relief to see. After the recent health problems, his vision had finally cleared up for good again in the morning. Maybe he actually just wanted to enjoy that condition for a while. After all, no one could tell for sure how long it would last.

Arwen already wanted to leave when he spoke up after all, more composed than she had expected. She could only imagine what it must feel like, having to learn from a letter the kind of danger your own wife had just been in a few days ago. "What do you think, are there many of them still out there?"

"I can't tell what it looks like in the rest of the country. We know one of them to still be in the Citadel for sure. I hope that their leader's death discourages them and that they finally wake up from their madness."

"I wish I could believe that." Legolas drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them which made the small balancing act even more dangerous. "I had to witness too often how quickly some Secondborn's views can change. One second, they're busy calling for our kin to be hunted. The moment they learn that it was one of our people murdering the Stewardaides leader, they smile at me in admiration again in the streets. I know that I made many terrible mistakes, Arwen, but there's at least one thing I can say about what happened without having to lower my head: I have never been unfaithful to myself. Even before most of the elves have left this world, Men already seem to have forgotten everything about them. There's not even anger left in me about this. Only the same sadness that I've already thought of Middle-earth with before the war."

"Your occasional shortsightedness is something you get from your father, unfortunately." Arwen leaned back against the low wall, enjoying the feeling of the wind on her face while she thought about her next words so that they wouldn't sound too harsh.

She didn't even acknowledge Legolas' almost shocked expression. If there was no one to tell him now when he finally seemed to be ready to listen again, he might never get it.

"You of all people should know how quickly emotions can shift, and why; how quickly wrath can turn to hate, but especially that it never grows without a reason. It's not been that long since you were a friend of Men and helped rebuild this land with your own two hands. And before we knew, you planned a riot. You had very good reasons, I know that, but the consequences remain the same. Men were afraid of you, Legolas, even of me, just because we are of the same folk. What we fear, we start to regard with suspicion. Try to not give people reason for such mistrust anymore, then most of them will be well-disposed to us. And the armed forces will take care of the unreachable; that's their job, and the King will make sure they do it. Aragorn loves our folk just like his own. You know that, don't you? We're more of a family to him than Men ever were. Not only will his house establish the line of Kings new but it will also create a new alliance between the two folks in friendship and love. Nothing can destroy that, not even ignorance of a few on both sides."

"When did the two of us grow up so much, starlet?" Relief filled Arwen when she felt that her determined words hit home the way she'd hoped when some of the tension slipped from Legolas' shoulders. It had been long since last he'd grinned at her like this.

"We'll talk about that once winter comes and we'll look for the best place for snowball fights at Cair Andros", she returned with a wink. "Good luck getting home with at least one dry piece of clothing for once."

Whatever protest Legolas might have had about this became unimportant the moment, a ship that had already been visible north of the city for a while, became slower and finally docked at the assigned berth right at the city's level.

At this point, the elf next to Arwen had turned into a cloud of dust already.

Arwen didn't follow him. In the first few minutes, the couple would rather want to be alone anyway.

In the meantime, she could tell Aragorn. It happened only rarely that she disturbed a meeting of his, but in this case, he would surely want her to. It hadn't been just Arwen, being worrying sick about Tarisilya.

Besides, they were waiting urgently for Glorfindel's detailed report, so the advisors couldn't complain about negotiations regarding a new salary law being delayed.

"They have seen us." Glorfindel slowed Asfaloth down to a walk when the joyful fanfare of Imladris sounded from thee Citadel walls in the distance, then the far more solemn one of Eryn Lasgalen, and finally the melancholic tune of the elves of Cair Andros.

He signaled Langhour, too, that there was no more reason for exaggerated hurry. The Dúnadan would ride to Emyn Arnen first thing anyway to report to the Steward personally.

"Do you want to wait for a carriage, milady?"

"To cover a few feet? That's very kind of you, but I'm pregnant, not fatally ill."

After a few days of loneliness in a silent cabin, Tarisilya was somewhat prepared to face what was coming, just like Glorfindel. Every minute alone had not only made the pain worse because only now, the comprehension of the loss slowly started to come to her. The yearning for her husband that she'd actually had had a good handle on during her time in exile, had become unbearable as well.

That Legolas had hurt her, completely forgetting about her due to his emotional chaos, had helped to pretend that she could live with the distance. In East Lórien, she'd learned a lot about what she had done wrong herself though. She finally wanted to straighten out things between them.

The wind strength was low at this time of the year; the journey had dragged on forever. And now Glorfindel had the nerve to ask if she wanted to make another stop! Sometimes she had to wonder if the Valar didn't bless warriors with any sense for moods at all on principle.

Her old friend just grinned weakly at her irritated comment and nodded towards the city.

The annoyance was forgotten immediately. Tarisilya had to keep herself from tearing the reins from her companion's hands and spur Asfaloth on to a wild gallop when a stallion just as bright but slightly smaller came dashing through the city gate, without a saddle or a bridle on so that it wasn't hard to guess who was sitting on it. That visible impatience already made up for a lot. So Legolas had missed her after all … And it also looked like his eyes were being fine again.

Towards the end, Tarisilya had to force herself to not just jump to the ground and run to meet Arod.

Coming close enough to make out the not exactly exuberant expression on Legolas' face, made that easier. This was definitely not what a joy of reunion looked like. Only when the horses stopped alongside each other, Tarisilya realized that his eyes were fixed on her swollen and discolored cheek and her wide dress hiding her belly in turn. Her husband must have suffered unspeakable worry regarding her and the baby, and she really didn't look her best.

"I'm fine. We both are." She silently reached out her arms to him and let him lift her onto his horse, burying her face against Legolas' chest as the first tears were streaming down her cheeks already.

The kiss to her forehead, still a little hesitative but tender, made everything unimportant for a moment, even the kidnapping and its horrible ending; with some effort, she even managed not to tremble again when her husband turned to condole Glorfindel upon his loss, briefly but sounding honestly compassionate.

Legolas waited for the Lord to discreetly ride a bit ahead, then he carefully took Tarisilya's chin and slightly pushed her away. There was fear in his eyes that she knew only too well. She had been seeing it in the mirror every morning for half a year now.

"Really. The little one is fine. Gimli's gift was exactly the additional shield we needed. It's better you didn't have to see the bruises I had on every part it didn't cover." She did her best to smile though she couldn't quite stop her sobbing yet. She was tempted to let her husband feel her belly, let him see it that she was telling the truth, but at least for another little while, she wanted to stay firmly in his arms and enjoy being with the elf again who loved her and who was finally really showing her again that he did, with this gentle glow in his eyes that was only for her, for her and the child.

The restlessness was also still in them though; again and again, he wiped away her tears. "If those were the worst that happened, the Valar have indeed been very gracious this time. I'm so unbelievably relieved, Ilya. Don't … Calm down. I'm with you. You're safe now. Everything is alright now."

Tarisilya grabbed his hand when he tried to raise it to her face once more. "Stop it, please. It hurts." While that was true, it was only an excuse for her to take a deep breath.

Was it Legolas' happiness about her return that had made him so thoughtless for a moment? Regardless of how much he'd already been through, not even three millennia had managed to knock a certain emotional naivety out of him. And it was about high time that she carefully tried to make him see such things instead of always waiting for them to turn into an argument. She'd planned on that in the very beginning already, on their journey to Imladris after the war. This time, she couldn't stop at good intentions.

"Good thing, Lord Glorfindel didn't hear that when you were still within his sword's reach. Two elves have just died, Legolas. Nothing's alright about that."

Legolas' expression hardened immediately. He quickly spurred Arod on towards the city, same as he'd always dodged when it came to something he didn't want to let come close to him at that very moment. "Of course not. What happened, is unbelievably tragic. I'm incredibly sorry for Glorfindel and for the family of that captain. It didn't need have come to this."

Unconsciously or not, that once more didn't exactly sound kind towards a certain dead elf. And could Tarisilya resent Legolas for it? After all, she'd not been well-disposed towards that elf herself not too long ago. But a lot had happened since then that Legolas didn't know about. And that was not his mistake. So Tarisilya forced herself, instead of flaring up, to take her arm off his shoulders and brush through her thick bangs agitatedly, as if she could wipe away, forget what he'd just told her.

That would have been easier if she hadn't still had to wonder if Legolas was jealous of someone who was not even longer among them, given how conspicuously silent he was about said elf's fate right now. But sorting all that out in a few seconds, that, she felt too drained for right now, both physically and mentally.

That she was seeking her distance, her husband realized anyway, of course. "Ilya …"

"No." She was talking too harshly, she heard it herself. Even Arod put his ears back. The joy of reunion had been overshadowed by the shock of the last events again so quickly, that it scared her, too. "We need to talk, but I don't want to do that in a rush once again. Or we'll hurt each other once more. Give me a moment to arrive, elwen."

She usually never won a debate against her husband so easily. Legolas apparently heard it in her voice that something had just gone really wrong and shut up. Maybe not least because with their pet name, she let him know that she was not really angry, that she just needed a second to gather her thoughts. And he gave it to her, which was hopefully the first sign of his emotional serenity slowly coming back. And it was better that way, or she would have said something that she would have felt very sorry for afterward.

Only when they arrived at the city gate where Glorfindel was waiting for them just like she'd hoped, when she jumped down from the horse after squeezing Legolas' waist for a moment, he gently grabbed her by her shoulder. "Ilya, wait. We need to …"

"Please, not now. The Lord won't stay in the city for long. And I need to walk for a bit. I've been doomed to hold still often enough in the last few months." It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either. This heavy silence wouldn't have made anything better right now. Tarisilya finally wanted all misunderstandings between her husband and her gone. A short ride wouldn't do for that.

Tarisilya briefly nodded at Glorfindel, relieved that he answered with a nod just as natural, without asking or thinking anything of it, just coming to walk on her other side so she had two escorts to the Citadel now.

She really had to remember to say a long goodbye to him later indeed. It was very likely that she would soon not see him again for a very long time.

She missed Thondrar. With him here, she would at least have had someone to talk to, without having to think about every word thrice, without feeling as if the whole world had conspired against her because she couldn't even spend ten minutes in her husband's presence before there were problems again.

But Thondrar would probably go from Lórien straight to Imladris to support his father at the upcoming difficult mourning ceremonies once Glorfindel arrived there. And also, surely, to spend as much time as possible with Glorfindel before he would leave these realms.

Legolas' sad glance from the side hurt, so she forced herself to smile which wasn't as difficult as expected, and reached for his hand, the one not restlessly playing with Arod's mane. It felt good, seeing the nervous tension slip from his shoulders.

No, things weren't alright yet, but for the first time in a long while, she felt as if that could change soon.