Riding back to North Ithilien took them so long that Legolas had been convinced for a while that at some point, Thondrar would catch up with them together with the children who had wanted to stay with Minuial and Elfwine, to see the first few exciting days of theirs rule, while Tarisilya, understandably, only wanted to leave this land right now.

Even though his wife was no longer that upset: It was hard to ignore that mentally, she was doing as bad as she hadn't since the Stewardaides Crisis. And great turmoil in her soul affected Tarisilya's tall but so extremely petite body on principle. Besides, Legolas had managed hardly more than getting her to have a piece of bread in the morning and the bare minimum of water. He could not and did not want to force her; but two days in, her silent, continuous tears and her complete absentmindedness had already weakened her body so much that she was slumping in the saddle like a wet sack and Tercelborne had to throw his head up several times, warning her, signaling her to shorten the reins properly again.

When they had finally crossed the border, right at nightfall, which meant, they could actually have made it home with a hard, continuous ride, Legolas finally called a halt to it, asking Tarisilya to dismount so that he could set up camp. In this condition, he neither wanted to ask a gallop of her nor to ride through the darkness.

After all these decades, his instincts about his partner were fortunately sharp enough to usually know when to be on guard; they'd automatically made him get down to the ground on the wrong side of Aviriel's back.

The moment Tarisilya took her foot out of the stirrup and jumped to the slightly muddy ground, her legs gave way and she fell in his arms, completely silently, robbed of her senses.

The first thing Legolas saw in Tarisilya's eyes when her eyelids began to flutter was guilt. She was of course very well aware of how badly he was always worrying when she struggled with the occasional relapses of depression, given he already had almost lost her to them once in this life, that she had lived so little of yet. "I'm sorry …"

"Don't." Legolas gently brushed her fringe out of her face and tenderly kissed her forehead. "I would have been more surprised if you didn't feel so bad right now."

Tarisilya sighed unhappily but nodded shakily and wrapped the two thick blankets that he had put around her body tighter around herself.

"I'll be right back." Legolas only left the tent long enough to fetch the large mug of milk from the fire that he had already prepared earlier. Sitting down next to her again on the den that he had created by bunching up their clothes and the reserve tent, he mixed the hot fluid with a large spoonful of honey and a small amount of hard liquor, just like Elfwine had advised him to upon their departure.

A melancholy smile was on Tarisilya's lips when he handed her the drink that had been traditional in Rohan for centuries and that must have made one or the other winter evening in this country better for her already. "Thank you, elwen." No matter how much her stomach had fought any nutrition so far, now she was very quick to empty this home remedy, without any argument. Even if it was only for his sake, it was a reassuring sign that she was hopefully slowly starting to fight her way out of her stupor.

Legolas stroked her hair incessantly, never taking his eyes off her for even a moment after she had curled up on her side again and stared into nothingness. "Tell me what you need, Ilya."

"I have to start processing the whole thing. It just happened far too fast now. I thought he had at least two more decades left." There were tears in her eyes again. This time, she gratefully nestled against his hand instead of just accepting it motionlessly that he gently wiped them away. "But I need to take it slow. Right now, I can't do this. Right now, I can't talk."

"And you don't have to." Legolas leaned in for a kiss on her temple. "Take it easy."

"But we have to carry on." A bad conscience was already taking hold of her, about their journey home being delayed because of her.

Sometimes Legolas had to remind himself that the last few decades had not only him a leader, but his wife, too. "The settlement can do without me for a few weeks. You are my priority, Ilya, and that will never change. Our family is the most important thing in my life."

Now there was nothing but deepest love on her face as she sat up on one elbow, just far enough to kiss him. She tasted sweet, of home, of security, but the salt of her tears had not dried up either. She was clinging to him with her free arm like a drowning woman, seeking his nearness. Not only was her skin still very cool, but her body also felt unnaturally stiff. Ever since that one fateful message from Edoras had arrived at Cair Andros, the tension had held an iron grip on her; that was clearly taking its toll right now.

"Lie down, elwen. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." Gently but firmly, Legolas made her snuggle up under the covers again.

He got one of the smaller rocks that he had arranged around the fireplace in a circle, which was so hot that he could barely touch it. Wrapping his travel cloak around it, he placed it next to Tarisilya's belly, into a small hollow in the makeshift mattress that he created with nimble hands.

That at least, she put up with, though she couldn't help but grin at his slightly exaggerated worry. With another deep sigh, she lay on her stomach to take full advantage of the extra warmth. But when, from the corner of her eyes, she saw him getting a large vial of oil from her healer's travel kit, her eyebrows shot up inevitably. "Elwen?"

"You look like you need to relax a little. I know I'm not as good at giving massages as you are, but ..." He shrugged, a little embarrassed.

When Tarisilya blinked, moved, he carefully tugged at the collar of the tunic under her cloak with one fingertip. "Are you warm enough to take all of this off?"

"It's alright. This is only coming from within." Tarisilya straightened up somewhat sluggishly so that he could help her bare her upper body. Then she sank back onto the bed, her forehead resting on her crossed arms. "And you're more humble than you need to be, elwen. You know better what to do with your fingertips than some healers I know."

"Archer." Legolas cleared his throat, a little embarrassed but also a little proud.

But that had been enough words for a night that should only be about making his wife feel a little better. And if taking a lot of time to take care of her muscles could ground her as much as it had him, on that one bad night after the death of his people in the Stewardaides Crisis, that was at least a start.

The first minutes were slightly awkward; he spent them only spreading the oil from the vial – that he'd been smart enough to warm up under his armpit – on Tarisilya's narrow back and slowly feeling the spots that made her hold her breath almost inaudibly and made her shoulders even more tense. But then he actually found out how to do better surprisingly quickly, how to work on exactly those sore points with light but constant pressure until they gradually disappeared.

Now his wife was already lying next to him, breathing a lot more calmly. Her body had sunk deeper into the den; there were still tears in her eyes, but that deep, harsh wrinkle around the corner of her mouth was gone. When Legolas took care of her arms with the same slowly circling movements, carefully squeezing her flesh again and again, and finally of her skillful hands which had to give up what had probably been the most difficult fight of her life so far in the last few days, there were several deep sighs between her breaths at last. When he kissed her fingertips, one by one, that made her smile again; this time, it looked a bit easier.

She almost seemed a little disappointed when he spread the blankets over her again, but the pout only lasted until he began to pull them back at the other end. This time, there was no need to ask. Her hands were already on the fastenings of her riding skirt, on the laces of her underwear. Invitingly, she raised her hips towards him so that he could help her out of the last layers of fabric.

Her legs turned out to be even tenser. So Legolas massaged every muscle area extensively, including her pretty, slender feet, although or maybe just because he had been noticing the stronger scent from the salt on her skin for a few minutes now, from arousal, and the growing heat of her velvety skin. His plans for that night had actually not included that. Though he wasn't going to complain about it, he wanted to finish his job as best he could first.

Only when his fingertips were no longer met with any resistance did he breathe a gentle kiss onto the crystal anklet that he had given Tarisilya when Élnen had been born back then and that she had never taken off since then. Then scooted back up on the den to spice his care with a little provocation by pouring the next few drops of oil on Tarisilya's tailbone.

The goosebumps spreading on her waist immediately had the blood flow faster in his veins, too. A little faster now, he put his hands on her sweet bottom next, knowing exactly the sensitivity of this spot – a weakness that they both shared, in fact.

The detached first moan on Tarisilya's lips made them leave all pain behind for the moment, take refuge in the unbreakable constant of their mental marriage bond, of their feelings for each other, the passion between them that had never vanished, even after many decades. Tarisilya's growing wetness welcomed Legolas' fingertips as they were sliding between her buttocks. When she yearningly spread her legs for him, there was even more of it. He let it merge with the warm smoothness of the oil, spreading the seductively smelling fluid with calm strokes on the narrow line between her buttocks, which were slightly reddened from his efforts, ever until Tarisilya pushed herself towards him with another moan.

Leaning on one elbow so that he could see Tarisilya's excited expression better, Legolas carefully let two of his fingertips slide into her, gasping quietly when he realized how much she was actually longing for him already. The tip of his thumb remained at the hidden opening, a spot where his wife, just like him, enjoyed a bit of superficial stimulation every now and then; he was brushing the slightly rough skin without any pressure, spreading more oil there without really thinking about it.

It was only when Tarisilya searched his gaze, biting her lip, a gesture she always showed when she didn't quite dare to talk about something she wanted in bed, that he realized, there was something in the air that neither of them had ever ruled out. After all, they were open to practically any form of physical love as long as it was happening only between the two of them and they were both interested in it. There were only far too many of them to try out so far, and their government duties meant they had less time to themselves than other couples. Therefore, they hadn't even been able to get up to half of what they were curious about. And that was perfectly fine. They were in no hurry.

But thanks to the extensive treatment with this very neutral-smelling oil and the desire to forget everything for a few hours that they were both feeling, the mood might be just the right one for something completely new today.

And Legolas was the last person to ever deny his wife a wish. After a long kiss to a part of her shoulder that the blankets didn't cover, he reached for the vial again and let more oil drip onto her body, this time onto the shallow dimple right above her bottom.

Tarisilya closed her eyes with a shudder, being tense again now, but no longer from shock or the onset of grief. And not from any kind of discomfort either, not at all. All he could read in her soul thanks to their bond was excitement, and anticipation for something wonderful that would add another facet to their physical relationship.

Yes …

Maybe she had whispered it hoarsely, maybe it had been only in her mind, but it was clear enough in any case. She had always known very well that he was a lot less nervous when she kept telling him that she wanted all of what they were doing just as much as he did.

That was all it took to cautiously start exploring what they were both longing for. With even more oil spread on her skin and on his hand, a first fingertip slipped into her waiting, twitching opening almost by itself.

For a moment, she was being incredibly tight and startled clearly, if more out of surprise about the new sensation, and he was already about to withdraw again ... But then she moaned again, a deep, drawn out sound, and opened up for him in a way even more intimate than she ever had. Her forehead and her shoulders were covered in sweat; her hands were firmly buried in the fabric under her body.

More, please …

This time, the request inside his head was clear, and she didn't need to ask Legolas twice. His finger slid a bit deeper while his thumb was gently massaging the oil deep into the sensitive skin of Tarisilya's opening until her muscles stretched for him and he could add a second finger.

That was all that was needed for the moment; it was more than enough for this first experiment, and it was clearly enough to drive his wife insane.

She was writhing on the den more and more, his name and detached sounds of pleasure on her lips in turn. While he was still trying to find a slow rhythm, she was already pushing her hips towards him, whimpering with arousal when her muscles tightened around him even more.

For a moment, the image flashed in his mind, and also in hers, of how it would not only be his hand there. This time, the moans came from both of them as more lust entered the whirl of red and green that was their deeply connected souls, silver lust, and bright flashes of energy in an ocean of tenderness. Not now, and not in any of the following nights that they would slowly expand this on either, but ... Someday. And Legolas already doubted that he would last even half a minute then, without having Tarisilya's violent reactions and the heat and intense tightness of her body carry him to his height.

Blind by his growing arousal himself, he leaned over to her again to nibble at the tip of her ear which she always loved so much, while trying in vain to ignore the almost painful throbbing between his legs. The result was worth the wait, the sole focus on the enchanting elf next to him.

When he turned his hand a little, stretching his thumb to rub her most sensitive point, teasingly, as light as a feather, Tarisilya was done for. She gave a sharp scream, more of her wetness bathed his hand. She buried her face deeply between the layers of fabric, her body twitching lustfully as she met each of his thrusts that had become harder, enjoying every second of her height, until she collapsed in exhaustion.

Just as carefully as he had taken her, Legolas withdrew his hand and wiped the remains of the oil on a cloth from the den, before putting his arm tightly around his wife. He kissed her trembling shoulder lovingly ever until she managed to turn her head in his direction again at some point.

Her cheeks were flushed, but her smile was only an excited, no longer an embarrassed one. "Thank you, elwen. I think that was exactly what was needed right now."

Her lips found his when he scooted closer to her in relief. She smiled when she felt his rock-hard cock against her thigh. Almost casually, she tensed her leg muscles and turned her knee slightly outward so that she could feel him even closer, the warm fluid of longing soaking his clothes. For now, that was all she did. She just took a hand out from under her body to put it on his cheek, her eyes still heated.

"That was ... different. I could never believe it when married she-elves were often talking about it while bathing, but that really feels much more intense. Would you ...?" She paused, bit her lip hesitatingly, and suddenly he had no doubt about what she would ask next.

"I think it would be good if you could experience that too. If you could learn how good it can feel. Maybe ... maybe then you can forget someday."

Legolas was at a loss for words. He didn't think about the incident with those Dunlendings back then after Helm's Deep very often, fortunately; he last had had to deal with the subject a lot longer than he had ever wanted to when he had been one of the people helping Eldarion to overcome his severe trauma. Since Tarisilya and he had resumed their love life more or less normally back then, since his wife's so very different, careful, loving, right touch had replaced most of the associations with violence and humiliation in his head, he had simply no longer been willing to give these bastards any importance in his life; they didn't deserve that.

But Tarisilya was right, of course: You could never forget such an injustice completely. Sometimes, he was still waking up drenched in sweat after a nightmare, feeling the phantom pain inside him from these dirty fingers that had torn more than one deep wound back then. Since then, he'd felt no desire to deal with this kind of stimulation, though he knew of course that many elves and men enjoyed it very much, especially in same-sex relationships ... or also if someone liked to hand their partner the reins regarding the most intimate kind of physical union, one way or another.

Allowing this image in his mind that he hadn't even realized he might be longing for it before, of having Tarisilya's bare body behind or above him, her hips moving against his as he was surrendering to her perfect body, her beautiful mind in every possible way ... That actually had his briefly lost arousal rise again.

But he still couldn't think of anything to say; there was too much crashing down on him for that.

"You don't have to," Tarisilya muttered against his ear, turning to the side so that she could snuggle closer to him; his cock, covered by far too many layers of fabric, was caught between her still sweat-covered thighs, but she wasn't even trying to undress him. She was still waiting.

"I know," he replied, with all the naturalness dictating how they were treating one another. "And I think that's why I want to try it. I just don't know if I really can." Because if there was one thing he knew about these unloved memories in his subconsciousness by now, about the sudden stiffness of defense in his muscles, the coldness that seemed to fill each of his cells, until Tarisilya's voice in his mind and her careful touch above his heart got him back to the present, it was that they came unexpected on principal and always when he needed it the least.

"If you can't, then we'll stop. Immediately. You know that." Tarisilya let her hand wander from his waist lower, brushing his hardness with just one fingertip before reaching back, firmly pulling him towards her.

That was all it took. He gave her another deep kiss, then helped her get him out of his clothes just as quickly and efficiently as she helped him earlier. When she backed away, slowly enough, without stopping to caress him, he came to lie on his stomach on the den, his hands clenched in the thick layers of fabric, his back a hard line of expectation, his heartbeat so loud that his wife had to hear it, at least in her soul.

"Not like this." Instead of kneeling over him, as he had half expected – feared – her to, she left a reassuring kiss on the back of his neck, brushed his slightly tangled hair down over it, and then scooted aside a bit.

"Lie on your back, elwen. I want you to look at me the whole time."

It sounded almost like an order, not a request. What under other circumstances might have hurt his pride a little, filled him with a well-known feeling of security, radiating from his stomach to his lower belly and into all pores, which made him obey without even a moment of hesitation. It wasn't often that they were doing some kind of roleplay in bed; for that, there was too little that they'd tried for so far. They still had to get to know each other and themselves and each other's desires better. But when Tarisilya was becoming a little stricter in bed – which happened mostly when Legolas needed a little encouragement to treat himself better in some way –, he had always enjoyed it very much so far.

And this time, he didn't regret giving himself to her in this way for even a second either, on the contrary.

Tarisilya knew him far too well to rush anything and was able to judge his reactions well. For the time being, she stayed right where she was, covering his upper body only with gentle caresses and loving kisses, using her tongue every now and then when she found a particularly sensitive area until the brief discomfort was gone and he was sighing deeply, pushing one arm under his head to fulfill her wish of him never letting her out of sight. The other hand was lovingly playing with her braid.

When she was on top of him then, with her legs spread widely, so as not to give him the feeling that his movements were being restricted, he had almost banished such disturbing thoughts already anyway and was able to enjoy how she was attacking his sensitive nipples harder, using just the right amount of force as she was kneading and biting them, to have his erection twitch hard against her belly … against her lips when she scooted further down, her head bowed low over his lap.

"Ilya ..."

No matter how easily he could get lost in her using her mouth on him every time: This time, he had to slow her down a little. After what they'd been doing there earlier, he was anything but certain that he would have lasted long if she let him feel her skillful tongue the usual way right now.

The warning had apparently been loud enough, because Tarisilya kept only to small kisses, only occasionally licking the seed from his tip which she loved doing so much, until he was writhing under her more and more, trying with the greatest effort to not thrust up against her.

She must have taken advantage of one of those moments when he'd been very distracted, to grab the oil. Because without really realizing it, he found himself laying on her gently kneading, slick palms the next time his hips sank down, a touch only increasing his lust.

Only at the moment one of Tarisilya's delicate, thin fingers carefully slid into him an inch, did her lips really close around his tip for the first time, which made this first moment of an unfamiliar sensation a lot easier than she had just experienced it.

Legolas' body was torn between what Tarisilya's tenderly sucking mouth at its most sensitive point did to him, and the endlessly cautious invasion just a few inches deeper. It was with deep admiration once more that he understood what a great lover his wife was. Since he was unable to fully focus on either of these two things, he was neither running the risk of not being able to control his arousal anymore nor of tensing up at the wrong moment while his body was still trying to decide how it was supposed to react to this slight stretch, this pressure inside, so completely different from the unbearable pain that had been the only thing he'd associated with these things so far.

His voice had long become nothing more than a rough moan, and he was sure that their den must be completely soaked with sweat by now. When Tarisilya then used a second finger on him just as carefully, he'd long been lost in his lust far too deeply to let any gloomy scraps of thought from the past distract him. The heat rising in his lower belly had him shiver and gasp; the twinge of an orgasm close to the surface but still held back with all he had, which had his balls draw up close to his body, made his cock twitch uncontrollably between Tarisilya's lips.

Then his wife twisted her hand a little, with barely noticeable pressure, in order to thrust into him a little deeper, and touched a place inside of him that he had never known to possibly have any meaning for him in bed at all.

Legolas didn't even get a chance to warn Tarisilya before his orgasm washed over him with the force of an ax, before hot seed filled her mouth, her name an overwhelmed cry on his lips. The world lost color for a moment before gaining back its original shape, only to shatter into a thousand pieces again when Tarisilya rubbed that spot inside him again, licking even more thick white from the tip of his highly sensitive cock, which made his hips tremble even harder, shaken by the desire to meet both of these wonderful sensations at the same time.

It took him a while before he was really orientated again. He was still very breathless, blinking sweat from his eyes.

His wife was lying beside him, hugging him tightly, with her hand on his heart, smiling at him with a combination of pride and relief.

For now, neither of them had to say anything. The intimate way he put his lips on hers, brushing back her hair, said it all.

Firmly entangled like that, warming each other, they both quickly found their way into the land of dreams and were able to escape the stressful situation for at least a few hours.

No matter what other challenges and losses there would be waiting for them in the last decades spent in these realms ... That night had proven once more that together, they could deal with it.

Fo.A. 120

"It is unique, Legolas."

Eldarion stopped his horse at the edge of the steeply descending path to the river and eyed the ship that had been laying at anchor there for a few months now with wide eyes and his mouth half open. His duties hadn't given the Crown Prince much of a chance to visit Cair Andros for some time. All the more impressed was he now by what the residents there had built as their last big project in these realms. Though Aragorn's son was in the prime of his life by now, being more than a hundred years old, which was something you could no longer ignore, too, given the first small wrinkles around his eyes and the corners of his mouth: At that moment he looked almost like the small boy he'd once been, gasping in amazement when Legolas had hit a target from miles away without even really looking at it or when Eldarion had once more fallen flat on his face and Tarisilya had healed the scrapes on his knees almost completely within a few seconds.

"My father gets all the credit." With a delighted beam about the unexpected visit on his face, Legolas, at the bow, straightened up from where he'd been perching, working on the last spots of the inner paneling that needed improvement. He braced both arms on the narrow railing, in spite of his words a little bit proud of this mighty work after all that would bring the last of his subjects away from here in the foreseeable future.

"Without his teachings back then, I wouldn't even have known where to start. I just hope, this lady fulfills his expectations. It's not half as pompous and spacy as his ferry was. Then again, we'll have way fewer passengers on board."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate your efforts and won't tire of looking at it. A father is always proud of his children, even if they don't always fulfill all of his expectations. It's his job." Eldarion's last words turned into a choked murmur; his hands clenched on the saddle horn, seeking purchase.

Legolas jumped over the railing and ashore immediately.

Tarisilya put the brush that she had been using to adorn the last of the grey and silver sails with the crests of all the elven realms of Middle-earth, aside as well.

"Is it time already?" Following her husband, she wrapped her arm around his waist in support, uttering what he didn't manage to get past his lips that were pressed together tightly. If their suspicion was right, they should better not lose too much time.

Even for his long-lived folk, Aragorn had reached an extremely considerable age by now, and he'd already handed over parts of the burden of regency to Eldarion a few years ago when the strength had slowly started to leave his hands. But he'd actually still been in a good shape the whole time.

In fact, it had just been a few weeks ago that they'd all still been on a trip through South Ithilien with their horses. They'd been very happy to support Elboron, who was sometimes still overwhelmed by his office, even long after his parents' death, when he had asked them to accompany him for conversations with a few farmers suffering under the icy winter cold.

Since then, they hadn't seen Aragorn though. In the winter, they always had to take particular care of their own people …

Only now, Tarisilya realized that might have been a mistake. So she hadn't been imagining it … At their return to Minas Tirith, the old King had indeed been trying to hide it that he'd coughed into his sleeve suspiciously loudly again and again.

Eldarion nodded gloomily and quickly wiped his reddened eyes. "The cold just wouldn't go away. We would have sent for you, Ilya, but he said, you couldn't have done anything more for him than the healers in the city. It's become pneumonia in the morning. When he realized that, he went to the House of the Kings, all by himself; you know how stubborn he gets. That walk probably sealed it. He's written a decree a few weeks ago already that allows a small circle of people to enter the place, but we should hurry. I don't think it will be long now."

Tarisilya pulled her husband even closer to her when she felt tremble in his suddenly hunched back, and tenderly pressed her lips to his temple.

"We'll be right there."