The entire realm of Gondor was brimming with weeks-long celebration by the time that Gimli, riding Arod, arrived in Minas Tirith, where the enthusiastic festivities had positively overflowed. The people had every reason to be in the mood to party, though; for their beautiful Queen Evenstar had given birth to the king's third child in less than five years. This wasn't remarkable in itself – Arwen obviously hadn't been thought to be barren before and the pregnancy hadn't been any more or less complicated than her previous two had been – but the Gondorians understood that having a large royal family would offer some reassurance that they wouldn't be left rudderless if anything (Valar forbid) should happen to the king. The fact that the new addition was a baby girl only slightly diminished their jubilation.

It was something that everyone knew but never actually said aloud: almost everyone in the kingdom wished that the queen had given birth to a boy. Oh, things would have been absolutely perfect if that had happened! The people of Gondor longed for the security of having two boys in the royal family – a spare to their heir, so to speak; a little extra assurance that the line of Isildur could endure a little more tragedy and come out of it with a male heir still ready to take the throne. Still, no one was cursing the existence of the new Princess Miriel. She was a symbol of the queen's fertility and their hope that Arwen would be able to provide another male baby in the future.

Besides, the realm had endured so many years of darkness under the Shadow of Sauron; now that they had the freedom to celebrate as they would the people needed very little inducement to do so. That was why as the dwarf rode through the streets with a determined look on his face he couldn't help hearing around every corner the sounds of people shouting, "To the princess!" followed by cheers and clinking cups.

As the White City continued to toast to the new princess with remarkable exuberance the royal family of Gondor was having their own, more subdued celebration. It had become a kind of tradition for them to gather together in the nursery three times a day for their meals for a month after a new baby was born. This ritual had started by happenstance rather than design soon after the eldest child, Eldarion, was born. Arwen had found that Aragorn was spending his every free moment with their new son and, realizing that it was a choice between eating in the nursery or not seeing her husband at all until bedtime, had ordered that their meals be sent there until she had found a way to coax him out of there. When Silmariën was born two years later the Man had done the same, only this time sequestering Eldarion away with them and Arwen again was forced to temporarily move their mealtimes into the nursery. From then on the mealtime tradition was born.

The elf queen had quickly learned to love the tradition as something that drew them closer as a family and always looked forward to the times of day when they could all be gathered in one place. Now seated on the floor of the nursery, playing with her son with one hand and using the other to hold her eldest daughter on her lap, she looked up to smile adoringly at her husband. Aragorn was across the room, sitting in a rocking chair as he cradled baby Miriel and gazed down at her as if she were the most precious thing in the entire world. Arwen sighed contentedly at the sight. She fell in love with the Man all over again whenever she witnessed him acting like a loving and attentive father – and that was often.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" asked Arwen happily.

"Hmmmm?" mumbled Aragorn distractedly.

Arwen couldn't help giggling. How like Aragorn to become enthralled just by looking at one of their children! "Our Miriel is beautiful, is she not?" she repeated with a knowing smile. "Oh, Aragorn; how blessed can two people be in one lifetime? She's a true miracle – as were our other children."

"Yes she is," Aragorn agreed, not bothering to tear his eyes away from his new daughter to do something as unimportant as looking at his wife. He really wished that Arwen wouldn't talk – her voice grated on his nerves as it was. The fact that it was interrupting his time of bonding with one of his children made it even more difficult for him not to grimace.

Blocking Arwen's voice out of his mind, the Man lifted his head to smile warmly at his two older children before shifting his eyes back down to the baby in his arms. Little Miriel was indeed beautiful and, judging by her resemblance to her sister at that age and the way that Silmariën was growing, she would become even more gorgeous when she got older. Both girls favored Arwen when it came to their looks and Aragorn was amazed once again to find that he could see so much beauty in what he usually found to be so repulsive.

The relationship between Aragorn and Arwen hadn't improved much over the years – at least not on Aragorn's part. Outwardly he managed to show almost as much affection for her – most of the time – as he had in the months after they first got married; but in fact things had gotten steadily worse in Aragorn's mind since the horrible day that he learned about Legolas' disappearance. With his heart torn apart, his guilt always nagging at his conscience, and the way that the petulant part of him blamed Arwen for losing the love of his life, now he could barely stand to look at her.

It was a shame that just looking at Arwen wasn't his biggest problem. Touching her also made his skin crawl, a rather unfortunate occurrence as Arwen's amorous affections had lessened only slightly over time. All too often Aragorn found himself called into their loveless bed and he could never think of way of turning her down without rousing an unpleasant conversation between the two of them. He managed to get through those nights of feigned passion by imagining the person beneath him was his one true love and hoping that he was at least creating a new life to love by doing such a disgusting act.

The Man had come to realize long ago that his children were his salvation. Whenever he was with them – reading, singing, strolling around, bathing them, clothing them, and just playing with them until they had to go to bed – he could almost forget about the ever-widening empty place in his heart that not being with Legolas had caused. "Welcome to the world, my darling daughter," he murmured to the infant who was staring up at him with wide blue eyes. "You are nothing but a blessing to my life. How I love you!"

A little snort came from across the room. "I don't think she's so great," groused Eldarion. He slapped away the toy animals in front of him in a huff and crossed his arms. "I wish she'd go away."

"Why do you want that, my son?" asked Aragorn patiently. "You were excited enough when we were waiting for her to be born."

The three-year-old pulled his mouth into an impressive pout. "That's when I thought the baby was going to be a boy instead of another dumb girl," he said grumpily, sparing a moment to stick his tongue out at Silmariën.

"A new sister can be just as wonderful as a new brother," Arwen told him as she started setting the wooden animals upright again.

"Nah-uh," Eldarion shook his head. He looked over at Miriel and Aragorn could see that something else about the situation was bothering the boy more than the baby's gender. "Besides, it's my birthday soon. I didn't want to have a new baby for my birthday."

"Now, Eldarion, you know that it's almost a month until your birthday," debated Arwen logically. "And I would think that having your birthdays so close would be fun; that way the guests from her parties will be able to stay on to yours without having to leave in-between. That sounds nice, right?"

Eldarion's face screwed up into such a fierce scowl that Aragorn had to hold his breath to keep from laughing out loud. "I don't want her guests!" the little boy cried angrily. "I want my own. Who would like sharing a birthday like that?"

"Who indeed?" mused Aragorn, enjoying the mean thrill that he always got from watching Arwen sputter for words when she spoke with the children. She wasn't very good at thinking on her feet when the children challenged her, having never been second-guessed or opposed often before motherhood. Nor was she skilled at relating to them on their level, often using logic to argue her point when no one their ages cared about it. Seeing that and knowing that he could make things better for his dear children made him love them even more – as if he needed any more reasons to love them.

"Come over here, Eldarion," he continued in a kind voice. "You too, Silmariën."

The little boy walked over to his father; the two-year-old girl pushed her mother's arm away and toddled after. When they were standing in front of him, Aragorn reached out and took both of their hands into one of his palms. "Birthdays are very special things," he said in all seriousness. "That sort of special-ness should never be lessened by having to share it with another person. That's why you, my children, have my solemn promise that none of you will ever have to face this sorry fate. No matter how close it may come to someone else's your birthday parties will always be as grand as they would be if you were the only person in the world, and no one will mention anyone else's when they are supposed to be helping you celebrate yours. What do you say to that, Eldarion, Silmariën?"

The children all but cheered "yea, Papa!" and embraced Aragorn as enthusiastically as they could with the baby still nestled in his other arm. Arwen watched this and once again felt a little left out. After Eldarion was born she'd found herself ill-equipped for motherhood. She loved him with all her heart, of course, but after so many centuries of having people take care of her without having any real responsibilities of her own having to mind a needy baby had turned out to be more difficult than she'd thought that it would be.

She couldn't help being jealous of Aragorn in that regard: his years of service to others made the transition to parenthood so much easier for him. That combined with his willingness to take care of every aspect of child-rearing had made it too easy for Arwen to fall back on him. Now that she felt more confident in her abilities to look after the children she couldn't seem to find a way to bond with her son and daughter on the same level that Aragorn had; and every time that she tried she felt like she was intruding on those relationships. Watching the older children gather so lovingly around their father made her wish that it had been as effortless for her to slip into her motherhood role as it was for Aragorn to adjust to fatherhood.

That didn't stop her from trying to build up her relationship with them whenever she could, though. "Yes, Aragorn, that sounds splendid," she offered awkwardly. "I don't know what I was thinking before. I'm sorry, Eldarion."

"That's all right, Nana," Eldarion told her. He didn't make a move to come back to her, however.

"Yes, well, good," replied Arwen with a good deal of discomfort. "Well…I'm afraid that it's time for you and Silmariën to take your naps."

All of Eldarion's goodwill seemed to evaporate and he pouted again. "No, Nana; please!" he begged unhappily.

"It is naptime, isn't it?" asked Aragorn, raising a finger to his lips to indicate that they should be quiet. "Yes, I think I hear your nanny coming to get you right now. Don't give that poor woman any trouble today and I'll make sure that the cook makes something extra-good for dessert tonight. Let that promise give you sweet dreams."

A few moments later the royal nanny, an elderly woman who reminded Aragorn of the wise grandmothers in the various Mannish tribes that he'd encountered as a ranger, rapped on the door and the two sullen children, after hugging and kissing their parents, quietly – if sulkingly – went off with her. "They are such wonderful children," smiled Arwen warmly after the door shut behind them.

"I'm well aware of that," said Aragorn.

She bit her lip hopefully and rose, walking across the room. When Aragorn made no acknowledgement of her standing in front of him she pulled up another rocking chair to sit next to his and plopped down in it. "I could take Miriel for awhile if you'd like me to," she offered eagerly. "You've been rocking her for such a long time, after all; I understand that you must be tired…"

"There's no need for you to do that; she's asleep," replied Aragorn in a whisper. Not looking at Arwen's disappointed face he got up and reluctantly placed Miriel into her bassinet. "You're so magnificent, my little one, my precious child," he murmured as he adjusted her carefully. "I would like to brag to the whole world about the wonder that is my new daughter."

"I think that you did," commented Arwen with a little laugh. "How many birth announcements did you send out this time? I swear there are more and more of them with each new child! I saw the stack; it looked like there was a mountain of them."

"There were no more than usual," he told her abruptly. Honestly, if she cared so much about the birth announcements she could have done something like helped prepare them. He couldn't stand how she seemed to want to experience the fun part of motherhood without having to do the work too. "There were all of the official ones to the various rulers and lords; and then the personal announcements. Those went to Faramir and Eowyn, three to the Shire, one to Eomer, Gimli, Elladan, Elrohir…and the ones for Legolas."

Arwen covered her mouth and closed her eyes sadly. Aragorn did this every time that he sent out any announcement: he would send one addressed to Legolas to the Shire, Rivendell, the Glittering Caves, Lothlorien, Mirkwood, and then stand on the ledge that was down the path to the citadel to let the wind carry off the final copy. He always hoped that one would find its way into the elf's hands and bring him back to Minas Tirith. It was a nice gesture but she couldn't stand the thought of her husband being crushed when it didn't work – again. "I wish that you wouldn't do this to yourself," she said worriedly. "It only results in more heartache."

Every muscle in Aragorn's body tensed; he immediately knew what she was referring to and he resented her insinuations that she understood anything at all about his relationship with Legolas. "Forgive me for not giving up hope for his safe return," he snapped bitterly. "I am not as willing to give Legolas up as lost as you apparently are."

"Don't do this; you always do this. You know that I miss Legolas just as much as you do," she reminded him tearfully.

"I highly doubt that," he told her in an icy tone.

"I loved him as much as any sister would love her brother!" cried Arwen desperately.

"And yet you give him up for dead so easily," he shot back.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes but the queen in her managed to hold them at bay when a knock came to the door. Aragorn sucked in a breath to calm himself. "Enter," he ordered.

One of the servants stuck his head inside. "I'm sorry to intrude," he said in a quiet voice, "but Lord Gimli has just arrived."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Welcome back to Minas Tirith, my dear friend!" greeted Aragorn with delight a few minutes later. Upon hearing about Gimli's arrival he and Arwen had decided without words to abandon their disagreement in favor of rushing outside, where they found the dwarf standing on the steps with his arms crossed.

"Thank you, Aragorn, Queen Arwen," replied Gimli with a broad smile that appeared to be a little forced. Aragorn figured that he was just tired from his travels. "It's always…nice to return to the White City, especially to be introduced to a new child."

"Please, Gimli, it's Arwen," insisted Arwen once again, knowing full well that Gimli's proud dwarvish chivalry would never allow him to address her without using her proper title. "It's been far too long since you've been here – since Silmariën's first birthday, as I recall."

"It's difficult for me to get away too often," demurred Gimli.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that I don't wish you could come for often," she told him breezily. "At least I know you'll have to stay for a little while here, for I'm afraid that the little one who you came to see is a bit indisposed right now – sleeping. Would you like to see her anyway?"

Gimli shifted his weight from one foot to another and gave Aragorn a strange look. The Man wasn't sure how he should read it. "I don't want to go disturbing the wee lassie now," he decided. "I can find something else to do that will occupy my time until she wakes up."

Arwen could practically feel the eager energy that was radiating off of her guest. The dwarf seemed to be bursting with some sort of anticipation and, judging by the way that he was looking at her husband, she wasn't the person that he so wanted to talk to. "Like catching up with Aragorn, perhaps?" suggested Arwen diplomatically. "Male bonding, or Fellowship bonding, or something along those lines?"

Gimli's eyes immediately lit up. "Yes, exactly," he agreed readily.

"About anything in particular?" wondered Aragorn.

"Not here," Gimli told him meaningfully. "There are some things that are best discussed in private."

Aragorn's heart leapt suddenly. Maybe Gimli had come with tidings concerning Legolas! "Of course," he said with unbridled excitement. He glanced over at Arwen and wished even more than usual that she would just go away. "Gimli and I must speak and I don't know how long it will take; if you'll excuse us, Arwen."

"Yes of course I will," she nodded. Arwen had never believed in interfering with her husband's bond with the other members of the Fellowship; she knew that becoming king had been hard on him and wanted him to have that one part of his life that didn't have to change. "I was planning on gong back to the nursery anyway; I feel like sitting beside Miriel's bassinet for awhile."

Aragorn could barely wait until she'd gone back inside the citadel before turning his almost desperate eyes on Gimli. The dwarf didn't give any indication that he noticed how upset he was. "Do you have news about Legolas?" he asked.

"I'd prefer not to speak about it here," was all that Gimli would say.

Oh, this had to be important! He knew where Legolas was – he had to. "Then where would you like to speak?" he asked, imagining how he would feel when he saw his love again. He could almost feel Legolas in his arms once again.

"The most private place that you can think of," said Gimli.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

By the time that they got into his office Aragorn's hands were shaking so badly that he almost couldn't slide the bolt into place to lock the door. "We won't be interrupted in here," he explained to an oddly quiet Gimli. "Everyone knows that they shouldn't disturb me when I have the door closed unless it's of the utmost importance, so this is as private as we can get without leaving the city. Now what do you have to tell me? Is it – is it really about Legolas?"

"Aye," said Gimli gruffly, still staring unsettlingly at him. Aragorn's heart started beating even more wildly. "But I'm afraid that what I have to say will mostly be old news to you."

The king deflated a little but he refused to give up yet. "Have you remembered something?" he asked, still hopeful. "Something that might help us find him?"

Then the oddest thing of all happened: a sneer twisted Gimli's mouth. "Listen to you go on," he said, and his voice was not pleasant. "You sound so sincere; like you actually give a damn about Legolas."

"What?" asked Aragorn in hurt confusion. "What are you saying, Gimli? I do care about him; you know that."

"Yes," replied Gimli nastily. "I know that you care about him. You care about him so much that you somehow trick him into bed with you and then abandon him as soon as you learn that being with Queen Arwen is still an option for you. Really, it's astonishing; I don't know how one could care about him more."

Aragorn had never been so stunned in his life. "I – how – what?" he sputtered.

"Don't start acting like you don't have a brain," scoffed Gimli, all of his nerves charged now that he finally had an opportunity to voice his anger. This was the chance not only to let the person who betrayed his friend to have it, but also to ream out the person responsible for his disappearance in the first place. "We both know that it's a heart that you lack. How else could you sleep with Legolas and then cast him aside like he's nothing but garbage?"

"I most certainly did not!" burst out Aragorn, his nostrils flaring.

"Didn't what?" shot back Gimli. "Didn't sleep with him? Didn't use him? Didn't leave him when you were done with him?"

"I – I – we had a relationship," Aragorn admitted. Even though Gimli was acting so hostile and bizarre it actually felt good to let that secret out. "We were intimate too, but I never used him. Anyone who says different will have to deal with the consequences. I loved him, Gimli – you have no idea how much. I'm still in love with him."

No sympathy came to Gimli's expression. "Then why is Queen Arwen your spouse and he is – he is Aüle knows where?" he demanded, catching himself just in time.

"She was supposed to go over the Sea," fumed Aragorn, his blood boiling at the memory. "I sent her away, but instead she stayed and gave up her immortality. I had to marry her after that, even though I don't love her. It's not as if she could ever replace Legolas in my mind and heart – I cannot stand her!"

"So let me get this straight," said Gimli slowly and deadly. "You claim to be deeply, madly in love with Legolas and yet you left him for a person who you previously broke up with, thus ending your obligations to her, and who you freely admit that you loathe? Now why would I believe that you're just making up all that stuff about loving Legolas? Why is it easier to believe that you're just a cold bastard?"

"You don't understand," growled Aragorn defensively. "My father –"

"You were a grown Man, Aragorn," interrupted Gimli dismissively. "If you were old enough to engage in such an intimate relationship with Legolas then you were old enough to show a little backbone when dealing with that self-righteous Elrond."

Aragorn's cheeks burned with fury, humiliation, and shame. "You know nothing about what I went through back then," he said in a low threatening voice. He stopped suddenly when he realized something that he'd been too caught off-guard and upset to notice before. "Though apparently you have a little more insight on the whole situation than I'd previously thought. How did you find out about my relationship with Legolas? Has he contacted you in any way?"

Damn! He'd been so intent on letting the man have it that he hadn't thought about coming up with a plausible story to explain how he suddenly knew everything. It was time to think quickly. "I've spent every day since I learned that he was missing going over what could have happened to make Legolas leave everyone he cared about without a word," said Gimli deliberately. This wasn't a total lie; he'd only stopped doing this when he'd found out the answer. "The thing I kept coming back to was King Theoden's funeral processional, when the queen and her brothers were presenting their evidence that Legolas had loved the king. They talked about how his depression had come on the same day as your wedding. That always stuck out in my head, Aragorn; and just recently I figured out why."

"And the reason would be?" asked Aragorn edgily.

"There were a lot of hints that I never took into account before simply because I assumed without thinking that you could never treat anyone so callously," Gimli told him while silently berating himself for being blind to the Man's faults. "The time you two vanished after the battle at Helm's Deep only to turn up later all flustered and blushing; when he didn't come back to our tent at Dunharrow until late, and how the light in his eyes dimmed from that point on. How he didn't perk up again until the time came for him to finally leave your city, the look of jealousy on your face when you saw him speaking to Eomer during the processional, and the way he couldn't look at you after you told him that he could come back to Minas Tirith when we said goodbye. How could you toy with him like that?"

"I wasn't," said Aragorn, quiet but firm. "I did hope that he would spend his time in the White City after King Thranduil didn't need him to help in Mirkwood anymore."

Gimli snorted meanly. "To live under your thumb alongside your wife?" he sneered. "You planned on keeping her as your trophy and him as your whore?"

Aragorn's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't you ever call him that," he warned.

"You were the one who treated him like one," said Gimli coldly. He stared at the Man he'd once called his friend and vowed to keep Legolas' secrets about his location and his son forever if need be; and to kill anyone that would betray those. "You don't deserve Legolas; you never have and you never will."

To be continued…

A/N: I heard from a reviewer who said that they were interested in drawing Caladel. I wouldn't mind if anyone drew any of the characters and/or scenes from any of my stories if they felt so inspired to. The only thing that I ask is that you let me know if you're going to post it and where so that I can see it too. I'd like to see how other people are envisioning the stuff that I write.