Arwen realised what must have happened shortly after she saw Aragorn storm out of the banqueting hall. Leaving Eldarion to the tender mercies of the guests who were clustering round to congratulate him, she rushed off after her errant husband as fast as her impractical shoes and long dress would allow.

She'd worked so hard to keep the secret from him! How could he have found out? She was sure she hadn't let anything slip. If Arwen had a fault (aside from her incurable addiction to mirrors) it was in her underestimation of Aragorn's intelligence. She simply had not expected that he would be able to work it out on his own.

Finally abandoning the shoes when the slope of the city got too steep for heels, she made much better progress, and actually caught up with the fuming Aragorn as he argued with the gate guard.

'Look you stupid sod, I'm the king! You can't just refuse to let me out of my own flaming city!'

'Sorry sir, but it's after sundown. You decreed that no-one was to leave the city after sundown.' The guard was sticking firmly to his orders, despite the fact that his own horse was backing away under Aragorn's wrath and so he was getting further and further away from the now shaking king.

'I am ORDERING you to let me out! Open the gates, you son of a Warg! Open them now!' The guard started sheepishly to obey.

'Aragorn, be sensible' said Arwen once she'd caught up with him. Her feet hurt. And her stockings were ruined.

'You!' Aragorn cried savagely, turning in the saddle to look at her.

'Aragorn, please. Come back inside. We'll talk about this-'

'You're not the one I want to talk to. And to think I thanked the bastard for taking Frodo off my hands. . .'

The clanking noises that were forcing him to raise his voice got even louder. The gates started to open. Without waiting for them to open fully Aragorn manoeuvred the horse through the widening gap and set off at a full gallop across the plain, not sparing a thought for the poor horse. Desperately, Arwen ordered the guard (it really wasn't his night) to give her his horse. Cowed under the pressure of both of his monarchs, the guard surrendered the frightened animal to Arwen and wandered off dazedly to find a pint.

Using the famous elvish ability to make animals biddable (sadly unused in this elf – she did not care for animal hair on her clothing) Arwen urged the horse onwards, chasing Aragorn. But he had a good head start, and she couldn't catch up, try as she might.

Two days solid riding, and eventually both horses gave up. Just lay down on the grass, and refused to rise again. Abandoning the horse, Aragorn walked determinedly onwards. Seeing this, (thanks only to the old elven eyesight. Anyone normal wouldn't have spotted the tiny figure trudging across the plains. Good thing I didn't decide to write about hobbits, eh) Arwen followed. When he stopped to rest, shortly before midnight, she kept on. Going without sleep was not such a great trial to one of the Firstborn. She was gaining on Aragorn. Unfortunately the dress she was wearing WAS a great trial to this scion of the Firstborn. She swore in unmaidenly ways as she minced through the grass. And then she swore even louder as one foot disappeared into a pothole. Pain shot through her legs. Unable to move properly in the tight dress, she could not hold herself up, and so she keeled over, ankle broken. There was only one thing left to do. She hated herself for it, but if she wanted to escape being eaten by Wargs, she would need some help . . .

'ARAGORN!' she yelled pitifully. 'Aragorn! Help!'

Aragorn heard her cries.

'Sod it.' he thought at first. 'Let her squeal for a bit.' Then he felt bad. 'Oh for Varda's sake.' he huffed. 'I'm COMING!' he yelled back, and turned around.

He found her, still stuck in the hole.

'I thought elves were graceful and elegant.' he said, extricating her from the burrow, or whatever it was. She glared at him. 'We are. Until someone puts a hidden pothole in the way.'

'Can you stand on it?'

'No.'

Aragorn sighed. 'Sit down.'

He pulled her leg onto his lap and strapped the ankle up with bits of her dress and his shirt.  'Your stockings are ripped.' he said gruffly after a few minutes.

'Yes, well, chasing your husband through the Pelennor to prevent him doing something stupid would have that effect.'

'Not gonna do something stupid' sulked Aragorn. 'Gonna go murder a lying elf.'

'Heir of Isildur you may be, but by holy Elbereth you are an idiot if ever I saw one.' said Arwen exasperatedly. 'Glorfindel is an elf prince. A powerful one. There is no way in Arda you could defeat him!'

Aragorn pulled away from his queen. He put her foot down gently, and then stood up. 'You be quiet! If you weren't so loose-moraled then we wouldn't be having this argument!'

'Loose-moraled? How dare yo-'

'How dare I? Arwen, you cheated on me! With GLORFINDEL, of all people! You don't call sleeping around behind your fiancé's back loose moraled?'

'You were away so long . . .' she mumbled, tables turned on her. Aragorn was in charge of this conversation now.

'I was saving the world!'

'You didn't have to take so long about it . . .'

'What the-? You are so unbalanced! I. Was. Saving. The. World. A little bit of patience would have been good!'

'Dad told me world would end. Didn't want to die a virgin' she muttered quickly.

'Every time we tried anything back in Imladris you told me to stop! If you were so keen on losing your virginity then why-'

'Didn't feel right with all the hobbits around.' Arwen was looking at her ravaged feet in embarrassment. 'Didn't want to corrupt them. . .'

'Corrupt them? Do you know what the hobbits were getting up to in that bedroom of theirs?'

'All right, don't rub it in. I'm sorry.'

'Pardon?'

'I'm sorry, ok? I've said it. Happy?'

'You think I'm going to forgive you on the strength of one grumpy 'sorry'?'

'Hey, don't get all uppity with me, mister! You spent an awful lot of time in Rohan. Don't think I don't know what those Rohirrim are like. Maybe you should be apologising to me' said Arwen, some of the old fire back in her manner. Aragorn put a hand briefly over his eyes. When he looked up his expression was pained, to say the least.

'You think I would cheat on you, the hottest elf in Middle Earth, with Éomer, who was the Third Marshal of the Mark, hadn't washed for about a year, and had-still has actually- a body odour problem to boot? You are even more paranoid than your father!'

Arwen looked abashed. She pouted. Aragorn melted.

'M'sorry.' she said, batting her eyelids at him.

'It's ok.' he said, pulling her into a bear hug. 'I guess we were all under a lot of strain. Go on, back to the city. I'll see you in a couple of months.'

Arwen, lulled into a false sense of security by the hug, stiffened.

'What?'

Aragorn let her go. 'Don't forget. I've still got that blonde bastard to deal with.' He suddenly ran off. Arwen hobbled a few steps after him, but he was gone.

She said a very unmaidenly word, and limped back towards Minas Tirith.