"Hello, you four. Time for lunch, isn't it? Uncle Aragorn is waiting for you."

Tarisilya wasn't exactly happy about taking Cyron away from Legolas' bedside, but the twins and she had to begin her husband's next healing session. Right now, she needed to organize the time she was spending in these Houses very well so she could equally be there for Éomer who was still very battered, and do her best to save Eldarion from worse lasting damages than a little weather sensitivity in his arm. Every now and then, she had to sit by Thondrar's bedside, too, so that after the first moment of suppressing, her cousin wouldn't risk getting lost in the burdening images from the Marshes that were still very present in his mind.

Which meant, she unfortunately had to be rude enough to throw out even the Queen of Gondor though Arwen had just drawn a laugh from Legolas, a sound that had become rare. This time, to achieve that, Arwen had used a not exactly respectful tale from her youth about her twin brothers trying, in their exuberance, to catch one of Lord Elrond's young horses that had run away and them falling into a cesspit headfirst.

"I heard that, my dear," Elladan growled offendedly. He pushed himself closer to the group with more determination than Tarisilya could bring herself to have and signaled his sister to vacate the bedside. "You can embarrass me again later."

"Cyron, are you coming? We've ordered mashed potatoes in the kitchen, only for you." Visibly just as unwillingly, Minuial lowered her flute and slipped it into a pocket of her dress.

"Not yet!" Cyron only wrapped his arms tighter around Legolas' neck with a pout, as if he never wanted to let go of him again. But then he sat up, after all, remembering something. "I need to give you something, ada!"

Suddenly very excited and a little nervous, too, his cheeks blushing deeply, Cyron bent down towards the floor so quickly that he almost slipped from the mattress, saved only by Legolas' fast reflexes and his arm around his waist.

A sight that left a painful sting in Tarisilya's soul, in spite of the relief about her husband already having adapted to the bad situation once more so well, about his instincts and senses reacting even better than in the past. She had been radiating confidence for Legolas so far, and for Arwen as well, because she didn't want to burden them even more. Especially not her friend for whom it was already so difficult anyway what Legolas had done to himself for Eldarion there. But the truth was that Tarisilya had no idea if she could help her husband this time, too. So far, nothing had been changing.

It was only her son, with a mind so lively and already so intelligent and compassionate at the same time, who chased away these gloomy thoughts at least for a few moments. Tarisilya had to turn away, to wipe her eyes, moved, when Cyron pulled out a neatly carved, small wooden bow from under the bed and thrust it into Legolas' hands. He led his father's fingertips over every curve, over the string that was still slightly loose, over every small notch. Knowing exactly that this was the only way for Legolas to be able to judge this first work from Cyron's hands.

"Eldarion helped me." Cyron shortly beamed at Crown Prince who was watching the whole scene as silently as he'd been most of the time since his rescue but with a loving smile. Unlike the grownups, the elfling didn't take it the hard way and was especially not mad about Legolas himself never getting a chance to build this weapon with him, as he'd promised.

"What do you think, ada? I painted it auburn, like uncle Aragorn's horse. Uncle Aragorn said, he'll take me to the woods to collect wood for arrows."

"Tell him to kindly wait until they finally let me out of here so I can come with you. It's beautiful. You did very well, ion."

Legolas carefully put the bow down next to him on the mattress and pulled Cyron close but let go of him again immediately when his son started to writhe uneasily. "Right, of course. Not in front of the others."

Cyron scrunched his nose a little and took a quick look around, to make sure that no one would laugh at him. Then he nestled close to his father once more and gave him a big kiss on his cheek. "Nana is here. You have to sleep now."

"After your midday nap, you'll bring your sister, alright?"

Once everyone except for the healer group who had become a deeply committed team by now, had left the room, Legolas let his head sink back down on the pillow with a heavy sigh. "Can we skip this? No matter how much I love having your hands on me, Ilya: This is going nowhere. I already told you. The headache was never that bad, and my eyes never failed me as quickly as in that cave. This time, something's been damaged there that you can't just glue back together."

"If I wanted to see a stubborn Sinda who loves to suffer in beauty, I'd go see your father," Tarisilya commented, unimpressed.

"El', take a look at this please."

"I should never have told to you that Estel has started calling me that again," her healer colleague grumbled, but he sat down next to her on the edge of the bed anyway.

Elrohir was already busy closing the shutters and lighting a few candles, just like in the last few days, because that was helping them focus on these close, friendly bonds the Marshes had established between the three of them. It helped having more focus, especially on the mental touches that they tried to heal Legolas from his handicap with.

Maybe they had been working in the wrong place so far. "I can see it." Elladan leaned a bit closer to the patient, his fingertips gently resting on Legolas' upper and lower lid.

"Look hard down, Legolas." Tarisilya couldn't remember when the four of them had last used a polite form of address. Some things quickly lost meaning if you constantly needed to be even close enough to someone to look straight at an almost invisibly faint stripe above his iris, for example. "It could come from the fall though it's a little late for that now. The pupil is marginally dilated. Is the pain worse on this side?"

When Legolas just nodded briefly, he slipped down onto the chair that Tarisilya had pulled up for him, with tight lips, and tied his hair back with absent-looking movements. "We need to be careful, Ilya. If there is a bleeding and if it's wandering, this can become really ugly real fast."

As soon as she was sitting next to him, he reached for her hand that was suddenly very cold, linking it with his brother's on the other side of the bed, and shook off the anxious considerations like an annoying insect on his shoulder. His left hand, he put on Legolas' forehead. "Move as little as possible please."

He was right: Something was different. Tarisilya felt it immediately when, guided by the twins' stream of thoughts that were far more experienced than her own, she let herself fall deeply into the ocean of emotions connecting her with her husband. When by way of their intimate connection, she felt her way through the storm that was his soul, still untamed even after millennia, until she was able to look through his eyes, better than with her own, to sense all that was moving him in these minutes of uncertainty, until it was as if they were almost being one person rather than two …

There. Blacker, even more threatening than the blindness itself, foreign and poisonous like the burning touch of black blood. Stale, dead, expendable, and yet trapped inside of scars that had never healed completely, remains of an injury that was over 40 years old by now …

With the trembling caution she'd been advised to have, she let her hand soar in the air, inches over Legolas' head, then put it on Elladan's and pushed him away.

She was trusting the brothers, of course. But although she had never been a person of too much pride, in the beginning of this crisis, the two of them had been right about one thing: Between them, she was the best. Simply because she had had more time to perfect her abilities, unlike the twins not having any duties in battle. And she wasn't bound to the limits that Lord Elrond had once set his sons, that her own father had never used to stop Tarisilya with.

Vandrin was an unconventional healer who had strengthened his mighty skills even more when he had met Tarisilya's mother, inspired by the powers of the night, of the sky. Always wandering a fine line the crossing of which would have meant giving himself to spells just as alluring and destructive as the ones used by Saruman or Sauron himself once.

Tarisilya had always been far too afraid to fall for such temptations to use the most powerful techniques that her father had told her about only reluctantly which were the most effective ones, too. But she had put them down in the book of her mother, in case of a huge emergency. Like the one occurring back then when the Stewardaides had almost killed Aragorn. She owed her husband not doing anything less for him. Even if that possibly meant staying in a tent for a few months, retiring into the coldest ice dune of Caradhras once again, to clean her mind, once all of this was over.

With the forbidden, ancient words on her lips, only a whisper to not possibly give the twins any stupid ideas, she let herself fall even deeper into the connection to Legolas, sending the good, the white magic of the powers that were, that all healers were blessed with, to her fingertips, to her mind. Into the darkness that had spread inside her own head as if her own sight would have left her now, until all she could feel was her husband's soul nestled against hers as if she was being a part of it. Until every cell of his injured body was just a thought away from her control, too.

Her fingers crooked.

"Ilya!" Elladan's warning scream tore her from her trance just as quickly as she had fallen into it.

Tarisilya yanked her hand back in terror when she realized that her treatment had made her husband black out, and not only that … Blood was dripping from his nose, from his lips.

Elladan reacted the fastest, turning Legolas' body aside so that he was at least not in the danger of choking on top. Then he swung himself onto the bed without a break before Tarisilya could ask what in the world he was planning to do, what they could do now, how they could be of any help at all now that she might just personally have made sure that her husband would die right before her eyes …

Elrond's son didn't waste any time on helplessness and self-reproaches. He pressed his hand against Legolas' temple, pushing his head firmly against the pillow and snarled at Elrohir to do the same with his body when seizures started to shake it from one second to another.

Then Elladan closed his eyes that in the weak candlelight were suddenly looking deep black, his free hand a tight fist, and got out a series of harsh, growled words, in a language that Elrond should better never hear from one of his sons or he would probably personally deny the twins access to Aman ... But they worked.

So much for the naive assumption that the two of them knew nothing about the darkness.

A few seconds later, it was over. Legolas' body collapsed back down, unmoving. Another choke in his throat, even more blood, landing in a bowl that Tarisilya was barely quick enough to hold in front of his mouth. For seconds, her husband was breathing heavily under her trembling hand caressing his neck … Then he let himself fall on his back once more and opened his eyes very slowly.

"Oh, Valar … If it's your face I'll have to see above me every time I wake up from now on, Elrondion, just let me go blind again."

Not even one of the twins could come up with anything to say to that. The three of them were staring back and forth between their patient and each other, in a combination of disbelief, relief, and hurt pride. Then all of them broke into roaring laughter.

Still slightly cautious, Legolas braced himself on his elbows, sitting up with Tarisilya's help, his hand pressed against his side with a little grimace.

She didn't stop him. She was far too glad that he seemed to be alright now, after a moment that she'd been firmly convinced in, she'd just wounded him to death with the best intentions.

Still quite banged up, he took the glass of water from the nightstand that she gave him to wash away the unpleasant taste of copper and sickness. Then he pulled his legs up and rested his jaw on his knees, blinking away, still trembling a little.

"Are you alright?" She just had to ask once more; the shock was still too bad.

He slowly nodded against the hand she'd put on his cheek, pressing a brief kiss to her palm. "I just need a moment to get used to it. Suddenly, there's … I didn't even realize, there was more pressure than before behind my eyes since these Haradrim's attack back then. I didn't even notice it anymore. I don't think I've been able to see that clearly in decades." Only now, after all these days of fear, the arduous restraint, the painful resignation, the tears came, just as suddenly as unstoppable. Legolas wiped his eyes again and again as if even those brief moments when the salt in them hindered his sight were bothering him, after this unexpected relief that everything was alright at last.

When Tarisilya lovingly took him in her arms, he nestled against her firmly, a happy smile on his lips that she hadn't seen on him in a very long time.

"Tell your father that you are indeed the best healers Middle-earth has ever seen, you and my wife," he raised his voice once again, choked, when the twins made a move to discreetly take their leave. "I couldn't be prouder to call you my friends. Or about having dedicated my life and my love to you, elwen."

"Le melin, elwen." Exhausted from this emotional up and down, Tarisilya wrapped her arms around him even tighter, crying a few tears on his shoulder herself.

Soon … soon she would have to continue helping the others that were waiting for her skills out there, too. Even a bit more self-assured but also thousand times more careful with powers that were too much to control for her mind that was well-trained but still far too young.

But first, she wanted to sit here with her husband for a few more minutes, thanking the Valar for giving her the power to save him from his horrible fate.

A tender smile was on her lips when she could feel Legolas' hand on her hair that was slightly untidy from the last few days, his fingertips starting to unfasten the braids at her temples, now that they had their usual dexterity back. He was right. There was no need for that anymore. Never again.

"We better go before you people decide to shed even more clothes in here soon," Elrohir let out, clearing his throat in amusement. "We'll tell the others."

"Thank you. Don't leave the city without a goodbye please," Legolas said wistfully.

After everything that had happened in the last few weeks and days, it would have been unbearable for both of them if the twins had gone back to their almost emptied valley and into the west, doubtlessly, in the foreseeable future, without all of having a chance to spend a little time more together.

"Never entered our minds," Elladan snorted. "You don't think Estel will let us leave without a huge feast, do you? And there's no more reason to make sure nonstop, everything's alright in Imladris. These realms are finally free, yours just like ours. We won't do it as long as you want to, but for us, too, it's now time to finally enjoy life in Middle-earth again. And to celebrate, as long as we can still resist the call of the Valar."

"And the bonds between us will be one of the most precious memories of the time that we were still allowed to spend on Middle-earth." Legolas briefly put a fist against his shoulder and lowered his head deeper than Thranduil would have been allowed to see it, the last of his tears dried.

Then they were alone. For long minutes, they just silently lay next to each other, smiling eat each other tenderly again and again.

Outside in the streets, they could hear the laughter of their children quickly approaching; apparently, the twins had been fast. They weren't alone; Aragorn's children were with them again, too.

And there … In the few scraps of conversation they could hear through the open window, they could make out Faramir's calm voice, too, free of all worry for the first time in a long while. A sound that the still so bright, young voice of Elboron mixed with that even Tarisilya as a frequent guest in Emyn Arnen had only heard rarely so far. The Steward's family did no longer have to fortify themselves in their safe fortress now either.

Soon, that whole little gang would be standing in here, and that was alright. Tarisilya was happy that her husband would have company as long as her work was calling for her, ever until she would be able to release him from these Houses with a good conscience that he would hopefully never enter as a patient again then. And she knew that from now on, he would not take even a single second for granted anymore that he was allowed to look at his children again.

She put her lips to his, still staring deeply into these beautiful eyes that had the same color as the sea that would be calling for them at some point in the far future. This soulful, intense stare she had fallen in love with at the Celebrant a thousand years ago. What she was allowed to read in Legolas' even features today, was the blessing of eternity.

And the relieved knowledge that the two of them would hopefully no longer have to spend the last part of this eternity in Middle-earth with any kind of fear.

"Are you leaving without saying goodbye again, ada?"

Tarisilya couldn't deny that she felt offended. If Élnen hadn't woken up in the early morning hours to demand milk, her father-in-law would actually have made it to steal away silently and furtively, and probably not even any of the marchwardens in the trees whose number had been quite reduced, would have noticed.

"You must be joking, Ilya. Have we been doing anything else in the last few days?" One eyebrow raised, Thranduil let his eyes wander over her slightly messy appearance, her nightgown, but it didn't seem hurtful or disapproving as it had so often in the past, just mildly amused.

With a lenient headshake, he turned to his horse again and fastened a heavy bag to the animal's chest. Just a small selection of the gifts that both Aragorn and his family and many of the citizens had thanked the King for his selfless aid in the last battle with. His soldiers would take the rest to Eryn Lasgalen with them on a cart, taking the long way.

This giving of gifts alone, at the ball yesterday, had taken half an eternity. That much was true: There had already been enough conversations and many last meetings, including tearful ones. In fact, even more than Tarisilya had cared for, given Thranduil's still slightly weakened condition. She should probably be glad that he was seeking a bit of solitude, and taking the river path, on the Anduin, would hopefully mean no more danger by any remaining, scattered enemy groups either.

She just wished, she hadn't known that this was the last time, she was talking to him in Middle-earth.

Her husband might go on another short trip to Eryn Lasgalen before his father's departure; he had hinted at wanting to help his father organize things there. A last duty for a Prince of a realm that had actually stopped being his a long time ago and had yet in truth always been. That was probably why in his doze, Legolas hadn't been half as upset as Tarisilya was earlier when she'd told him what she had spotted at the paddock in the distance.

But Tarisilya and her children would only see the King again when their own way would lead them away from here. If someone had told her how much that would hurt 20 years ago, she would probably have laughed at them.

At least she could send Thranduil back to his realm with a good conscience, knowing she had done whatever she'd been able to so that he would hopefully not associate his last few months in these realms with pain and humiliation. Spending the last few days here in the camp had once again improved his condition considerably. It was still strange, hearing him talk with this still very quiet, hoarse voice that sounded slightly deeper than before. But he was already very capable of producing this tone of absolute command without a problem again when talking to his soldiers. It was almost calming.

Tarisilya couldn't help but wonder what the King would actually do with all that free time once he would reach a land that old titles, rights, and authorities didn't count in. Where they probably wouldn't need any of the leaders of Middle-earth anymore. Thranduil would probably be bored to death after three weeks at the latest.

Or he might finally dedicate himself more to his deeply buried talents regarding art and music once he would find out how much life had to offer when you did no longer have to be angry all day.

"Don't." Thranduil gently grabbed her chin, lifting it as he had done so often when next to him, Tarisilya had once more felt small, insufficient. Or when, like now, she hadn't wanted to let her always so unapproachable father-in-law see that she didn't have half as much mental strength as he did, in any case not enough to not shed a tear in a moment like this.

"It's alright, Ilya. There's hardly anything left to do here for me. I'm proud that with you two, I'm leaving behind the last light of the elves on Middle-earth. You'll hold the lines as long as it's necessary, alright? I'm relying on that."

"We won't disappoint you, ada."

But Tarisilya was glad when her husband joined them and put his arm around her, looking a little more decent than her but at least still as tired from yesterday's excessive party. And exhausted enough to be forced to wipe his face on her sleeve for a moment as well when his father turned away from them to unfasten his horse's reins from a fencepost.

"You two. Seriously." Thranduil grabbed them both by a shoulder with a sigh.

The still quite fresh scar across his throat flashed in the brightening light, red and sensitive. Tarisilya had to fight the urge to just put her fingertips back on it immediately to continue prompting it to heal faster. Actually, this stubborn elf still belonged in bed, not traveling some wooden and river paths alone, possibly even falling from his horse.

"Time has no meaning for our kind, and you still have a lot to see. I'm going with your promise in my heart that you will follow us as soon as you went with King Elessar to the end of his way."

"And we will," Legolas assured one last time, without even the smallest doubt in his voice. They'd already known that since making their decision to not leave the Secondborn alone as so many others had in the war back then. The time of most of the elves on Middle-earth had always been finite anyway, and by now, theirs was almost up as well.

And for some of them, it was already over.

It came to Tarisilya like the last piece of a puzzle that hadn't been complete in years, right when she reluctantly watched Thranduil get ready to mount his horse, his still very sluggish movements torturing him. Finally, she knew what it was that had already made it so hard for her to find rest in the last few days.

And in this case, her spontaneous but inevitable plan was a good partner for her exaggerated worry. "Ada, wait. Can you do me a last favor? Will you take Manyala with you?"

"Are you sure?" Thranduil looked slightly blindsided for the first time this morning, turning his head to the flock with a frown that the black Mearh's tall, strong shape broke away from immediately.

Manyala trotted towards them as if Tarisilya's mare had understood even from a distance what this was about. And it had been years since she'd thrown her head up so excitedly, had pranced so playfully.

"She's in the prime of her life, but if she leaves now, you probably won't see her again."

"I know." Even more tears; those hurt far more than the ones about a temporary parting though, and at the same time, they were lifting a great weight off her soul. If you'd had to watch one of your best friends suffer for far too long, it did you good, finally being able to do something against it.

"But if she goes in Aman, she can do so by her brother's side. I don't have the right to deny her this reunion. She had to do without him for way too long. And to be honest, I would feel more comfortable knowing you to be on her back. She will take care of you at least."

"Given she even carries me," Thranduil noted dryly.

"She's already dealt with having the Steward on her back just to take you away from the last battlefield of these realms, after you've kissed an orc arrow." Legolas just couldn't bite back a pointed remark. "Besides, she'll have a familiar face accompanying her on her way to the harbor."

When Tarisilya looked up at him, distraught, completely unprepared for this decision that could only have been formed in Legolas' mind in these last few minutes, just like hers had, he quickly took her hand. "I won't be gone for long, elwen, don't worry. But when the day comes for us to follow the call of the sea as well, I need to be prepared. We have no guarantee that by that time, there'll be any guards in the harbors left as you know, or light towers, or shipwrights. Círdan has already done enough for the elves in these realms. We might be on our own. And I don't have even the slightest idea about how to build a boat, especially not one that can get us past the border. I will gladly be your apprentice for one last time, ada," he added, a lot more serious than just a moment ago, with his head lowered respectfully.

"In this case, I'm very glad that we'll have a little more time together left than I'd thought, ion."

Tarisilya's inviting glance had Thranduil roll his eyes and start to unsaddle his horse again. Now he didn't only have to stay at least a few more hours to get friendly with Manyala but also to wait for Legolas to be ready to leave – the perfect chance for his daughter-in-law to treat him extensively once again. "Don't worry, you'll get him back in one piece."

"That's my line, you know."

Grinning in satisfaction, Tarisilya helped him, not least because that gave her a chance to shortly, casually graze his hand from the other side of the animal, to keep the King from hiding behind activity again already after the brief emotional moment. "I would really prefer you to stay close, ada. I still have to monitor your condition for a while. You could build at Cair Andros or somewhere on the Anduin …"

Thranduil sent his hose back to the paddock and then pulled Tarisilya in his arms completely unexpectedly, giving her a comforting kiss on her forehead. She was pretty sure that her husband was just staring at his father as if Thranduil had turned into Sauron himself.

"No, Ilya. My job on Middle-earth is not completely done yet either. On our journey to Mithlond, Legolas and I will visit all elf settlements still inhabited so that those who have already been waiting to leave their old home for far too long and only need someone to take them by the hand, can join us. Elrond's sons, for example. Which means, we'll have healers coming with us, too. You won't get rid of me that easily, don't worry."

"You'll take over for me here in the meantime, won't you?" Legolas joined them from the other side, putting his arm around her. "Heal our people's wounds from the last battle and look towards the river every day, elwen, until the day when I come back to you. And then nothing shall ever ruin our happiness again."

Tarisilya buried her hands in his hair happily and gave him a deep, passionate kiss, deliberately ignoring how her father-in-law cleared his throat, slightly scandalized. That was a prospect she could live with.