Review responses:

Mirax: I'm glad you like the way I've portrayed Eowyn. She doesn't feature in this chapter as it's more an AragornArwen part, plus a bit about Arwen's relationship with the Rangers.

Rs: Thanks for your review.

Ashleyabb: thanks.

IfonlyIhadorli: Glad you like it, keep reviewing.

Karinaal Undomiel: I'm glad you like it. Yeah, I think Rochwen is a good addition to the story: I think all stories should feature children as they can add an element of innocence to the story.

Mysticmaiden: Thanks for the review!

Leif of Rohan: Thanks. Glad you enjoy it.

From now on, I'm going to dedicate the next chapter to the first reviewer who hasn't previously had a dedication. This chapter's goes to Mirax.

Enjoy!

"It's so beautiful," Arwen gasped. She was looking down from the highest tower of Helm's Deep. It had taken her and Aragorn almost all the afternoon to get there; their time was not helped by the constant pauses in order to exchange kisses and loving whispers.

"It is that, meleth, when the light of the setting sun falls upon it. But it was not made to be beautiful. It is a weapon."

Arwen turned and looked into her lover's eyes. "You spoil the beauty of it, my lord. Why must you speak always of tragedy?"

"Perhaps it is because I have known little else. Perhaps it is my impending doom." Aragorn stared down at the spot where Haldir had fallen. Arwen followed his gaze.

"Haldir," she whispered. "It is hard to believe that a day ago he marched into this fortress, healthy and strong."

"He sits now in the halls of Mandos," Aragorn said. "Where does Darascus sit? Where can he find peace?" He paused. "Which one, elf or man, is truly blessed?"

"Estel-"

"Haldir died last night, when he should have had eternal life. Darascus died before his time, but is it better to leave sooner or later? For leave we must. Where to, no one save Illuvatar knows." Aragorn was whispering to the air, almost as if he were unaware of the beautiful she-elf stood beside him.

Arwen reached out and stroked his cheek, and Aragorn jumped, jerked out of his painful thoughts.

He turned his eyes to Arwen's concerned face, and shook his head. "I am sorry. I should not say such things to you now." He pressed his lips against hers and wrapped his arms around her back

When he pulled back, he smiled. "Perhaps we should be getting back down, or your father shall have my head."

Arwen nodded and followed him, but she was troubled. What had made her love speak such tragic, despairing words? It was not like him.

But then, what did she know? She knew nothing until now about how Aragorn acted after a battle, no idea of what was 'like him'. She decided to speak with some of the Dunedain to see if she could find out what had come over her betrothed.

They were walking down a winding rock staircase. The only light came from the sunlight through the narrow slits of windows and the odd torch burning bright in brackets on the wall. The rock steps were rough and slippery form the rain which had come in through the arrow- slits.

Suddenly, Arwen stumbled on the hem of her long dress. Losing her balance, she tumbled down the steps to the balcony below. She hit the hard cold stone with a cry.

"Arwen!" Aragorn yelled. He raced down the steps to get to her and knelt by her side. Her eyes opened.

"Arwen, are you hurt?" Aragorn was worried. He could see no physical injury, but that didn't mean all was well. She could easily have a broken limb, ribs and possibly have concussion. The last was most likely; she had hit her head quite hard.

"No," She replied, trying to be brave. She attempted to stand.

"Not so fast," Aragorn said. "Just sit. If it hurts, sit. Do you feel pain anywhere?"

"A little. My arm is painful. And my ankle."

"Do you know where you are?" Aragorn began the standard list of questions for someone who had hit their head.

"With you."

"What time of day is it?"

No answer.

"Very well," Aragorn said, trying to sound calmer than he felt. "I'll carry you down to the courtyard."

"I can walk!" Arwen protested, again beginning to rise.

Aragorn grabbed her and enfolded her in his arms, lifting her. "I won't risk it."

Aragorn carried Arwen down, trying to walk so as not to jolt her. He was carrying the most precious and delicate load he could think of, and hoped she was as comfortable as possible.

After what seemed like years, Aragorn emerged into the courtyard. Elrond ran towards them.

"What has happened?" He asked, panicking.

"Please be quiet, my Lord. You mustn't alarm her. I'll tell you in a minute."

Lothiel came over as fast as her old, frail legs would allow. "What happened?" She echoed Elrond, but calmly.

"Arwen fell down some steps. She says her arm hurts and I think she may have sprained her ankle." Aragorn lowered his voice. "I think she also has concussion."

The Rangers worked quickly. Out in the Wild, they had to know how to deal with problems; bites from animals, falls, wounds in skirmishes, disease epidemics… the list was endless.

Arwen was laid in a pile of blankets inside a tent. Lothiel came over, Miriel following. Lothiel was an expert at dealing with the sick and injured, simply through her long years. She was now training Miriel and several other women to continue her work after she died.

Rochwen padded along behind the two, for no other reasons than curiosity and concern.

"Treat her," Lothiel instructed Miriel. "I'll supervise."

Miriel sat next to Arwen and gently took her wrist. She had been training with Lothiel for several years now, and knew what she was doing.

"Tell me where it hurts most," she instructed Arwen as she moved her hand along her arm.

"Ah!" Arwen cried when Miriel's hand touched the bone midway between her wrist and elbow.

Miriel sighed. "This will be painful, but I need to feel." Miriel pushed into Arwen's arm, and after about a minute delivered her diagnosis.

"Broken, but not badly. It'll need to be slung up for a few weeks and then she'll be fine." She looked at Lothiel for her approval. Lothiel nodded slightly and smiled.

Miriel then examined Arwen's ankle, and declared it sprained. "Keep the weight off it," she instructed.

"Concussion," Lothiel reminded softly. Then she looked right at Arwen. "I'll do this," she said to Miriel.

"What is your name, lady?"

"Arwen," Arwen replied.

"Where are you?"

Arwen looked around, confused. "In a tent," she said at last.

"In what part of Middle Earth?" Lothiel asked.

No answer.

"All right." Lothiel turned to Miriel. "Sling her arm and bind her ankle. Keep her bedded and give her some herbs to help her sleep. Check her again for concussion in the morning, and tell me how she is. We ride to Edoras at two hours past sunrise."

"I shall."

Miriel treated her, then left. She would return every two hours to check Arwen.

But Rochwen sat up next to Arwen until the early hours of the morning, when eventually Miriel made her leave.

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