Considering the messenger from Dol Amroth's eagerness to speak to them, Legolas and Aragorn half-expected to see him waiting for them as they approached the entrance to the throne room. However the only person who was standing in the corridor that led into that grand hall was one of the older (and, in the couple's eyes, most trusted) royal guards. "My king, my prince," greeted the guard Beren when he spotted them. He bowed deeply without moving out of his appointed position.

"Good morning, Beren," replied Aragorn while Legolas echoed the sentiment with a murmur. The Man discreetly glanced around from side to side for any sign of the city's visitor and raised his eyebrows slightly when he saw nothing. "I assume that everything is ready for us?"

"Yes, your majesty," answered the guard promptly. "We received orders from the Lord Faramir yesterday and I made sure that they were carried out to the letter. The court has been informed that we will not be allowing anyone to enter unless you give word to do otherwise; the guards posted at the entrance to the citadel have been instructed to tell anyone who comes with a petition the same. No one will be disturbing you while you meet with the messenger, sire."

That wasn't exactly what Aragorn meant by his question; in fact, he hadn't thought about taking care of all of that at all. Not for the first time he thanked the Valar for giving him Faramir as a steward, for Aragorn was certain that he would be in dire straits without the other Man acting as his right-hand. That was not to say that Aragorn wasn't a fine king on his own merits – Gondor could not have asked for a better ruler – but Faramir was very meticulous, intuitive, and possessed a keen understanding about how his lord's mind worked. He knew when Aragorn was too upset and/or distracted to notice the smaller details – such as seeing to it that a private meeting wasn't constantly interrupted by a barrage of requests that could wait – and make sure that they were taken care of. On this particular occasion he'd only had a brief discussion with Aragorn while Legolas was gathering what few things he had in the Houses of Healing in order to move back to the citadel. Watching his king nervously watch his husband out of the corner of his eye, Faramir had silently ascertained what Aragorn felt was best in terms of receiving the message and all that there was left for him to do was to decide how to go about it. Aragorn couldn't have wished for a better steward – or friend.

"Thank you for your pains and are sure that you fulfilled your orders well," Legolas thanked the guard, who nodded in appreciation of the compliment. "But the messenger is not here. Is he waiting for us in the throne room?"

"He is waiting, but most certainly not in there," Beren assured him as if horrified at the very suggestion. "Bergil has been keeping an eye on him since he came into the city and will continue to do so until you send for him. None of us would imagine letting anyone associated with…her to set foot in the throne room without your expressed permission."

Such suspicion! Apparently any business concerning Lady Nienor brought out the worst of it in the best of people. Everyone who'd been around back then must have been buzzing ever since the unexpected visitor to the city had been identified as a messenger from Prince Imrahil. Aragorn and Legolas weren't the only ones who were emotionally scarred by the events of the past – the guards from that time, trained and expected to keep the royal family from all harm, still turned white and grew very quiet whenever the situation was even hinted at.

Beren, who'd been one of Legolas and Aragorn's personal guards and commander of the guards of the citadel, had taken the assassination attempts as a biting indictment about his abilities as a leader. He had become an even more diligent and attentive guard because of it; not even Faramir thought of many of things that Beren considered to be possible scenarios when planning out protection details. No one slipped through the nets that Beren cast out. "He is being kept in one of the designated waiting room," he continued. "I thought it best, as we know nothing about the way in which he was acquainted with the lady."

As comforting as it was to Legolas that his children were being protected so well by this Man, he found that all of the implications about a possible conspiracy were making him anxious as well as more than a little exasperated. He didn't like the idea of treating a guest of the city as a virtual prisoner for doing nothing more than carrying a message from his liege lord. "We appreciate how careful you are when it comes to our safety," the elf stated diplomatically, "but please don't find it necessary to treat him as if he were a dangerous criminal. His is but the unfortunate bearer of bad news, not the cause of it."

"Of course, Prince Legolas," said Beren, sounding properly contrite. "I should probably apologize to him for my – zealousness."

"I'm sure he understands," said Legolas kindly.

"Yes, well." Beren coughed uncomfortably, as he would never get used to the times when either Legolas or Aragorn broke the formality that their positions called for to be directly nice to him. "Do you wish for him to be escorted to you now?"

Aragorn bobbed his head once. "We want to see him as soon as possible, but just let him come to us without an escort unless he requests one," he ordered. "We should be ready to receive the messenger by the time he arrives in the throne room."

"Yes, my lords." With one last bow Beren hurried off.

Man and elf waited until he was out of sight before proceeding into the magnificent hall where their thrones sat side-by-side on a platform at the top of a small staircase. Aragorn had stirred up quite a bit of controversy almost immediately after his coronation when, after noting that there was no proper place for Legolas to be when the court was open, he commissioned the creation of a new throne. That in itself wasn't so unspeakable – the steward also had a throne in the hall – but the positioning of it horrified many: the new king intended to have his husband sit next to him as if they were equal partners in ruling Gondor.

Objections were raised before the order went out. This had never been done before, was the main argument, not even when the ruler's spouse had come from a prominent and respected family of Minas Tirith, and this particular spouse was of a strange race from a strange land. Such a move undoubtedly fed the Council's misgivings about the influence that the peculiar elf would wield over the king. Their disapproval only spurred a rather petulant Aragorn on and Legolas had been forced to take matters into his own hands. While never technically going against his husband's decision, the prince shrewdly saw to it that his throne was noticeably smaller so that the king would still sit higher than him. The incident had marked a change in how the advisors viewed their new prince consort and set the foundation for a good working relationship between them.

Aragorn remembered the whole affair with a mixture of satisfied defiance (he didn't give up the freedom of living outside of a city of stone to be second guessed so soon on what he saw as a petty controversy), wry chagrin (at his undeniably childish reaction to the criticism), and warm pride (at Legolas' handle on the situation) as he and his husband ascended the stairs and sat on their respective thrones. Fingering the carvings that adorned the arms of Legolas' seat the Man smiled. "Don't shoot the messenger, huh?" he asked good-naturedly, consciously trying to relieve the tension of waiting.

"It's an ancient policy that my father taught me when I was but an elfling," replied the elf as the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward.

"Where in Middle-earth did he come across it and why didn't he follow such a policy in Mirkwood?" Aragorn wanted to know. "Don't tell me that it was – I distinctly recall winding up on the business end of many an arrow when the rangers and I brought a message from Mithrandir there – when was it now? – 85 years ago."

"Complain, complain, complain," groused Legolas dramatically, not really annoyed or upset at all. He knew what Aragorn was trying to do and appreciated his efforts. "You should have exercised a little more caution than stomping unannounced into the realm. No one got shot! You even got a kiss later that day."

"Not our first," said Aragorn happily, for he would always count the peck on the cheek that Legolas give him when he was only ten-years-old as their first kiss. "Though it was most definitely a memorable second…and third…and, well, you remember; once we started again we just couldn't stop."

The smile slid off of his face a little. "I truly love you, Legolas," the Man professed earnestly. "You give me love, joy, support, and everything else – including four beautiful children. I'm sorry that I can't give you a far less dramatic life in return."

"I'm not – I'm fairly certain that I'd have been bored out of my mind by now if you had," replied Legolas. "I wish that messenger would hurry! I think that it's the not knowing that's driving us both to distraction. I'm sick of speculating about the bad and the worst; I just want to be able to deal with the 'is'."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The poor messenger shuddered inwardly as the heavy doors slammed behind him, leaving him alone with the legendary King Elessar and Prince Legolas of Gondor. When the assignment had first been announced the young Man had leapt at the chance to bring the message so that he could meet them. Now he wished that he'd paid more attention to all of the warnings from some of the others, those who had witnessed firsthand how sensitive the Gondorians still were about the assassination attempts on their prince consort. The icy, almost revolted, greeting he'd received upon arriving at the gate; the unwavering supervision of a guard who had to be at least a few years younger than him; and the general air of hostility that seemed to follow him wherever he went had made his time in Minas Tirith almost unbearable. Honestly, one would think that he was smuggling the Lady Nienor in under his cloak! His enthusiasm about speaking with the king and prince had faded considerably and all he was looking forward to was going back home.

First things first, however; he had a duty, entrusted to him by Prince Imrahil himself, and he had to see it out. The messenger bowed mutely toward the platform where King Elessar and Prince Legolas were seated, waiting for them to recognize him. "Good day, young Man," said Aragorn immediately. "You may come forward."

"I thank you, great monarchs of Minas Tirith," replied the messenger. He walked forward slowly, not daring to look up at them.

Legolas noticed this and smothered a sigh. "We understand that you bring a message to us from your noble prince, but first I must beg your permission to give you an apology," he said, smiling as the startled Man looked up at him. "Our guards take their task to protect us seriously, but they were wrong to treat you with such antagonism. I am sorry for that and hope that this experience will not cause you to remember us or Minas Tirith in a less than favorable light."

"I – I – I – accept," stammered the messenger. He stared at the prince and realized that he'd never been in the presence of anyone nearly as fair as he. Immediately he hurried to the bottom of the stairs and bowed down on bended knee. "You are as gracious as you are beautiful, Prince Legolas, and that is quite a feat indeed. May the Valar bless you, and King Elessar too! Oh, it is I that should be apologizing to you for coming so late."

Aragorn cleared his throat to keep a snort from coming out. Legolas certainly had a way of charming people and endearing himself to others but this was getting absurd. "There is no need for that," he assured him. Legolas, realizing how close his husband was at bursting out with laughter, reached over and squeezed his hand warningly, though in a way that the messenger would only interpret as loving. "You got to the throne room right when we wanted you to."

"I do not speak of today," replied the messenger as he rose to his feet. "Prince Imrahil meant for you to get this letter before your daughters were born. I set out from Dol Amroth with plenty of time to spare but unfortunately the harsh weather of last week delayed me on the road for several days."

They were supposed to get the message before Legolas went into labor? All of the amusement over the young Man's reaction to Legolas drained out of Aragorn immediately as his mind went to every horrible reason as to why that was. Had the lady escaped? Did the prince discover that she had allies or accomplices within the city? Had they needed to have extra security? Having gone uninformed, would Gilraen and Meren have to pay the price? Inside he was shaking with fear, anxiety, and anger but his outward demeanor stayed steady and stoic as the messenger climbed the stairs and laid the letter in his hand. "Do you have any idea what this is all about?" the king asked as he broke the seal.

"I have a fairly reasonable guess," was the messenger's answer.

Taking a deep breath Aragorn unfolded the parchment and read. When he was done he blinked, first at the letter and then at the messenger, before turning to his husband. "We're both just two silly fools," he stated simply.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Legolas as the messenger let out a little gasp.

"Here," said Aragorn, handing the letter over to the bewildered elf. "This will make it very clear. Prince Imrahil is a fine Man; a loyal ally, good ruler, and dedicated friends; not to mention very perceptive. You can tell that he's Faramir's uncle, as this is exactly what Faramir would do if he were in the same position. Of course he'd want us to know about his before Gilraen and Meren were born." He then smiled down at the slack-jawed messenger. "Don't worry; the prince was not offended because I called him a silly fool. If I really wanted to make him mad I'd call him the Sun Star."

Legolas was too engrossed in reading to glare at his husband for his jest. His eyes widened when he was finished. "Oh."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"What?" gasped Eärnil in disbelief, goggling first at the king and then at Legolas.

"Lady Nienor is dead," repeated Aragorn calmly. "She died not two weeks ago."

"That's – that's – that's – very surprising," stuttered Belecthor as he tried to wrap his mind around what happened and what it might mean. "Did the message say how it happened?"

Aragorn looked at his husband, who'd taken the spot he normally sat at during a meeting of the advisors' Council. While the Man understood and appreciated Legolas' reasons for making sure that his position on the Council wasn't seen as any more influential than the others he really wished that the elf was standing by his side. He was a little worried about Legolas' subdued reaction to the news; and would have happily accepted a little extra support for himself. "She hung herself in her cell one night," reported Aragorn.

"Dear Valar," breathed Tanondor, clasping his hand over his mouth.

"Why would she do such a thing now when the time of her release is almost at hand?" demanded Malvegil suspiciously as he crossed his arms. "Did Prince Imrahil bother to investigate this so-called suicide?"

"How else could she have ended up hanged?" Eärnil asked him harshly.

"I wouldn't put it past someone to murder her and make it look like she did it to herself," shot back Malvegil. "There were a lot of people who wanted to see her locked up for life and even more who thought that she should have been executed. One of the more – assertive – people with that mindset could have resolved to take matters into their own hands to make sure that she was never free again. Someone might be getting away with murder because they counted on everyone not caring enough about Lady Nienor's death to look into it!"

Aragorn held up his hand. "Silence," he ordered. When the buzz of conversations and debates died down he continued. "Lady Nienor appears to have had her reasons for ending her life. She was not quiet during her imprisonment; she'd been making plans since she was first exiled. Now that her release date was so close she shared them with whoever was in listening range."

"She was planning to return to Minas Tirith," spoke up Legolas with such calmness that it amazed Aragorn. The Man's blood had been boiling ever since he'd read that part of the letter, but Legolas had acted as if he hadn't expected anything else. "Lady Nienor still believed that she was supposed to be the queen of Gondor. She couldn't wait to come back and spoke often about 'starting things over with King Elessar after cleaning the slate'."

"Meaning that she intended to kill you," said Belecthor gently.

Only then did Legolas' expression darken. "And my children."

"Of course the guards reported all of this to Prince Imrahil," said Aragorn, mindful to keep his voice steady. He'd shown her mercy; Legolas had openly and honestly forgiven her; and still she plotted to destroy their lives. "Her insane ranting finally got so terrible that the prince decided to pay her a visit. There he informed her that he would be sending word here, advising that it would be in everyone's best interest if I extended her sentence indefinitely."

"At first she didn't believe that Prince Imrahil could make such a thing happen," added Legolas. "She was so confident that I was using the children and some vile type of magic to control the king and that once we were all eliminated he'd be more than happy to marry her. Prince Imrahil took great pains to convince her otherwise."

"And she understood?" asked Arvedui in confusion. "Or else he didn't? I'm sorry; I still don't see why she killed herself."

"He failed to talk her into giving up her fantasies," answered Legolas quietly. "But she did finally realize that King Elessar would take his recommendations to heart."

Tanondor's face was as white as the snow-capped peak of Caradhas. "Is that when she…"

Legolas nodded solemnly. "Two guards found her the very next morning," he said. "They cut her down as quickly as they could but it was already too late to save her."

"This is inconceivable," Eärnil carried on. "Why did the prince feel the need to send word about this while the twins were being born?"

"He composed his letter right after seeing the lady's body and sent out the messenger before lunch on the same day," Aragorn told him. "In it he said that he knew that we tended to think about her when we had more children and wanted us to know that she would never be able to harm any one of us ever again. We should have gotten it about a week about a week ago but the storms we've been having made traveling especially slow and treacherous."

"I can't believe she's dead," said Eärnil in a soft tone. "She and my daughter played together when they were children; now my daughter is a mother and Nienor is a…." His voice trailed off when he felt many pairs of eyes on him. "Forgive me."

"No need for that," Aragorn reassured him. "I know that most of you were at least acquainted with Lady Nienor since she was a child. It is all right to feel sadness about her passing and regret at what her life had become. We will adjourn for today so that everyone can collect themselves and meet tomorrow at our usual time."

Aragorn walked over and sat down next to Legolas as the advisors filtered out, still speaking urgently. "Are you sure you're all right?" the king asked.

"I'm fine," answered Legolas a little sadly. "I guess…I guess I was just hoping that she'd be able to move beyond what she thought that her father needed her to be."

Aragorn had spent years trying to figure out why his husband felt so much sympathy for the lady, and never to any avail. "For what it's worth," he said carefully, "I don't think that Cirion's expectations were the only source of her madness. She probably had problems already that those just emphasized."

A shadow fell over the couple before Legolas could respond. They looked up at the interloper. "What can we help you with, Eärnil?" asked Aragorn.

"I apologize for the interruption," said the advisor. "But I wanted to ask you to do something and I'd like to give you a chance to think about it for awhile before giving me your answer at tomorrow's meeting."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Eldarion was so frustrated that he could scream. How could he have spent so much time – at least an hour and probably more – trying to get answers and still not have any results? "Please?" he begged his grandfathers for the countless time.

"No, Eldarion," said Thranduil firmly. "If your parents have not chosen to share this with you then we cannot do it either."

"I won't tell them that you told," promised Eldarion eagerly. "I'm good at keeping secrets. I haven't told anyone yours, have I?"

For years there'd been speculation that Thranduil and Gimli were lovers. The pair enjoyed the stir all of it caused far too much to reveal the true nature of their relationship either way. The only person who knew was Eldarion; they'd confided it to him to cheer him up when the boy had been feeling neglected after Laurelin's arrival. "That's true," admitted Gimli. "However, that was ours to tell. Wait for your parents, lad, and then question them until they can take no more. I'm sure you'll get your answer then."

"Fine," sniffed Eldarion, not caring if he sounded a little disrespectful. "I guess I'll just wait in my room."

He marched out of the room and closed the door behind him, too annoyed to give his grandfathers a proper goodbye. How could they treat him like a little child? No wonder Findowyn was having trouble seeing him as a mature young Man.

He was about to continue with his miffed act by stomping down the hall when something caught his eye: someone was standing a little ways off in a shadowed corner. The person was wearing a cloak – odd on such a hot day – that made it impossible to see his or her face. However, Eldarion was certain that whoever it may be was staring at him, waiting for him. A chill ran down the young prince's spine and he instantly decided to go back in with Thranduil, Gimli, and the babies. Secretive grandfathers and whiny babies were nothing compared to creepy strangers, especially when he was unarmed. There was no shame in it; his parents had always instructed him of charging head-first into danger without first considering all the possible honorable alternatives.

Eldarion turned around and scrambled to open the door, all while wondering if he should tell them about the lurker. That apparently wasn't necessary, though; when he glanced over his shoulder to see what was going on the person wasn't no longer there.

To be continued…