-----------------------------
There was a low murmur in the group as a few spears were lowered; a few of the riders who recognized Aragorn as well nodded their greetings, but stayed astride their horses even as Selenithas grabbed Aragorn into a rough hug. "You didn't say you were going to Minas Tirith!"
"I didn't know I was going to Minas Tirith," Aragorn admitted, grinning despite himself as he stepped back from Selenithas. "Ah -- my companion, Gandalf Greyhame." Gandalf touched the brim of his hat at the introduction, nodding toward Selenithas. "Gandalf, Selenithas. --What are you doing here? Playing messenger?"
The man let out a rueful sigh. "Sadly. Actually, he has the message--" He gestured toward one of the riders. "You remember Cerenol."
"I remember."
"We're his escort. Too risky these days, sending a lone rider any distance."
Thengel's caution was laudable, Aragorn thought, particularly in days when one of the Istari preferred to hurry through a pass rather than face the possibility of shadow. "I'll find you when we get there, then?"
"Trying to get away from me already, lad?" Selenithas's eyes glinted in amusement, not too unlike Gandalf's.
"What?"
"Nonsense. I'll walk with you, it's short enough." The rest of the group backed away and dispersed at Selenithas's dismissive wave, and the trio began walking again, Gandalf watching Aragorn and humming softly under his breath. "Surely you haven't been just walking from Rohan all this time?" Aragorn shook his head, bemused and more unsettled by the sudden arrival of his old friend than he'd have liked. The rohir fell silent for a moment, recognizing Aragorn's habitual reticence -- and came up with, after a pause, "Then you must tell me what befell your hair. Did a pack of goblins come upon you and try to rip it off?"
There came a snort in response, then, "Do you really want to know?"
"If it's too long a story, we could always walk slower."
Gandalf chuckled, and Aragorn even managed a half-grin. "Well -- we were in Ithilien..."
--------------
"No, it's quite all right," Gandalf said when they reached the lowest pavilion of Minas Tirith. Aragorn had turned away from Selenithas, following the wizard instead, and now stopped. "I'm quite capable of delivering the message myself, my boy." Aragorn startled at the familiarity, and Gandalf suppressed a smile. "Go. If I have need of you, I will find you."
As they walked toward the stables, Selenithas cast a curious look back at the retreating wizard. "Is he a relative?"
"Gandalf?"
"No, my horse. Of course Gandalf."
"He's a friend," Aragorn said slowly, pulling the stable door open as Selenithas led his horse in. "He... my brothers speak most highly of him."
"Hm," was all the rohir said in response from within a stall. Like much of the rest of Minas Tirith, the stables were built upwards and not out; the box had barely enough space for a horse to turn, but at one end of the aisle a railless stair led to a great loft set above the stalls, walls lined with saddle racks and shelves built as high as a man could reach. Built over the opposite stalls was another loft stacked with militarily-neat sheaves of hay, bound in rough string. Narrow slats of windows ran lengthwise down the outside of the stalls. "Quite the odd fellow, isn't he."
Aragorn set himself to cleaning, fetching a broom from the loft and absently sweeping down the stone floor. "Sometimes."
"Ah. Only sometimes." And Selenithas emerged from the stall, latching it behind him before he thudded up the side steps to the loft. The sound of his boots against the wood were unexpectedly loud in the relative quiet of drowsing horses, and it wasn't until he had put his horse's tack on an empty rack that he called down, "So you're staying in Gondor, the both of you?"
"No." He swept the last of the straggling horsehair and dust out the stable door before bounding up the stairs to replace the broom. "Gandalf doesn't seem the sort to linger, and I suppose it is my duty to go with him since he did ask me to."
"He did?"
"When I left. Rohan," Aragorn elaborated, as much for himself as for Selenithas's benefit. He had, it seemed, left too many places behind him to keep them easily in order. "It's not as if there's so much I could do here."
Selenithas looked up from polishing the bridle slung over his arm. "If you wanted, you could return to the Mark. Thengel would never turn down a rider."
Aragorn smiled thinly. "I've no horse to take me back."
The Rider's expression softened. "Fair enough." He slid the bridle onto the front of a saddle rack, arranging the reins above it. "What I said still stands, though. Should you ever want to return home."
"I won't forget."
Outside, the amassing clouds overhead thickened slowly, and thunder boomed in the distance. Somewhere in the city, a raindrop fell.