6) Minas Tirith

They rode in silence through the town, rubble about their feet telling of the recent desolation of the once proud city of Minas Tirith. Already work had begun on re-fortification. It would be proud again, of that Aragorn had no doubt. Bursts of noise began filling the silence with woe as those on stretchers and carried unmoving, over the backs of horses were identified. Despite the desolation there was hope in the eyes that remained on Aragorn as he pulled his mount to a halt in the courtyard, waiting for an answer to their futures.

"The evil of Mordor is once again quenched." He called out. The King's voice filled the city as if the city had been waiting for it, holding its breath. "The ring of power has been destroyed. No more will our people be troubled by the evil of Sauron!" The noise was an uproar, horses stirring uncertainly as the huge sound filled the whole of the city, flooding from person to person until all voices were raised in a joyous call. Calming his horse as he dismounted, Aragorn held his head high though fatigue threatened to overwhelm him. He looked to those of the fellowship who remained around him. Gandalf, assuring him of the two hobbits safety from the back of an eagle, had flown with them to Elrond's care, knowing no other healer would have the skill or power to take the shadow of Mordor and the Ring from both hearts. As soon as he could free himself from his responsibilities here he would travel with the others to check on them. The path would be faster without the troubling of orcs or detours via Fangorn or Moria. Moria his thoughts darkened at the thought of that place.

They brightened again at the sight of Merry and Pippin, struggling from their mounts aided by those who had ridden with them. Since Gandalf had left to aid Frodo and Sam, Pippin had taken up a seat in front of Éomer who was struggling not to laugh at the hobbit's attempts to dismount gracefully from the horse who was obviously too big for him. Éowyn had offered Merry a hand down which he had gracefully accepted, one arm clasped to his chest in an attempt to immobilise his injured wrist. Aragorn pushed a healer in his direction, knowing that there were others more grievously wounded, but needing the two hobbits' companionship for what would come next. Binding the hobbit's wrist would only take a moment.

Gimli was already dismounted, Legolas having lingered pointedly beside a mounting block in the entrance to save the dwarf any embarrassment, and was wandering through the crowds, making sure all that needed treatment received it.

Aragorn's eyes met Legolas' and hovered there for a moment. He had fallen to the back of the company as they travelled back towards Minas Tirith. Seeing that he was only helping the injured as they made their slow way home, Aragorn had made no comment. Now though, he stood by Arod's side, hushing him as he tried to back away from the floods of noise and bustle that was stirring his sensitive nerves. Funny that the horse of Rohan could charge into battle with barely a flinch and yet within the crowds of friends he appeared unsettled. And somehow the look in Legolas' eyes was much the same. He looked intimidated by the crowd, eyes flickering from face to face, jumping as each new person brushed by him. The riders to stable their horses, the injured to the healers, those too late for help taken to the rooms set aside, to await burial. The look in his eyes was almost pitiful and Aragorn longed to walk to him and take him in his arms. But too soon he was claimed by his new kingdom and dragged away.

"Aragorn, I have need to talk with you. 'Tis regarding the elf." Half of the advisors who the new King had been meeting with leapt to their feet, objecting at the intrusion.

"You cannot simply walk in on a King's council!" Shouted one outraged advisor.

"Danien." Faramir's soft voice lowered the man back to his seat, though he was still fuming.

"Gimli Elf-friend." Aragorn greeted, enjoying seeing the haughty advisor put in his place. This was the most excitement he'd had in nearly a week. Gimli looked completely unruffled by the attention he was bringing to himself.

"I fear his condition is worsening." Gimli continued.

"His condition? I was not aware he was hurt."

"I daresay he has not been truly well since Gandalf fell in the mines of Moria. Now that his commitment to the fellowship is done he is fading Aragorn." The King stood and hurried towards the dwarf. He turned at the last moment to Faramir, an appeal in his eyes.

"The stewards have watched over your kingdom for many years, Elessar, a few more days will not hurt."

"But you are still not fully well I should not."

"That's what all these men are for, Aragorn." He smiled, gesturing around the room. "Now go, as an advisor I shall tell you that letting the Prince of Mirkwood fade away within your kingdom would be an ill move."

"Thank you, my friend."

"This has not come as quickly as it did in Helm's Deep, this has been a deterioration. The hobbits have been sitting with him, but he seems not to listen any more." Gimli explained as they hastened along the corridors.

"Elrond will arrive tomorrow, the day after at the latest, for the crowning. He will bring Frodo and Sam and Gandalf. Elrond will be able to help, he is a healer of the highest quality."

"Then we must ensure he remains with us until he arrives."

"He is that far progressed!? I should have been more attentive. How could I have overlooked this!?"

"You have had larger responsibilities. You are not to blame for this."

"Nothing should be more important than friendship, Gimli."

"You are a King now, Aragorn. There is more at stake for you now." They wandered the halls in silence for a while, Aragorn wincing at every person who paused to bow or curtsey, much to Gimli's amusement. "I should warn you." He continued, "I don't think the halflings have been sober since they returned from the gates of Mordor. It is their own way of coping with events. We have tried to get the elf drunk, but it seems impossible, a waste of good ale."

"If all else fails there is elven wine in the cellars, it will be a little more effective. But it should be a last resort, for it could drive him either way."

"I must ask, for it is a question that has pressed me often and I have never found the right moment to voice it. How old is the elf? He speaks often of his father's disapproval of his actions, and of his own childishness."

"Truth be told I do not know of Legolas' age. Once they have reached full growth 'tis often hard to tell the age of an elf, save from experiences and behaviour. I know he was not present in the Battle of Dagorlad, when Sauron was first defeated, though both his father and grandfather fought there and it was there that his grandfather fell and his father took the throne of Mirkwood. This puts his age under three thousand years, that is a young man in elven years, and would suit his behaviour well. If I were to guess, then I would say between two and three thousand years. You must ask him yourself, for only he would know." Gimli thought on this as they turned the last corner to reach Legolas' room.

"On the field I would agree on your estimate, for he wields his bow with a skill only millenia could bring. And yet there is an innocence to him." Gimli paused with his hand on Legolas' door. "We cannot let him fade away."

"I have no intention of it." Nodding his approval, Gimli walked inside.

The Prince of Mirkwood was slumped - in a most unelven position - down in his chair, his gaze on the floor. He glanced up as the two newcomers arrived, but spared them no smile or greeting, his attention returning to the floor.

"Legolas, we are going riding." Aragorn stated suddenly. "Arod is not used to such confinement, he is getting upset." Legolas looked up and a flicker of concern crossed his features before he looked away again.

"I cannot, Aragorn." As Gimli had been at Helm's Deep, Aragorn was taken aback at the dullness in the elf's tone. The gift of the Eldar seemed to be seeping from him, his skin too was dull and without its elven inner-light.

"Brego is also in need of exercise. I would not have time for both."

"Gimli then" His gaze turned on the dwarf.

"You are more befuddled than I thought if you can see me on Arod alone. Besides, now that he has discovered elven masters he will carry no other."

"Come my friend. We will be gone but an hour, you would soon be returned to the hobbit's thrilling company." Aragorn glanced meaningfully at the two snoring lumps in Legolas' bed.

Legolas stood slowly, wearily, and wavered slightly on reaching vertical. Man and dwarf both made a move to steady him but he batted away both pairs of hands. He stood for a moment and it seemed a light flowed back into him in that short time for they could almost believe he was back to normal as he stepped away from them and grasped his quiver and knives and slung them over his back. It was the work of a moment to string his bow and step into his boots and he was stood by the door expectantly, confused at the smile on the man's face.

"Come then, Aragorn, if we are to go." The commanding, arrogant tone was a welcome replacement for the weary whine. Grinning back at the dwarf, Aragorn followed Legolas from the room in much higher spirits that he had entered it.