The next morning at breakfast Elboron wasn't looking much better than he was feeling. He'd slept, but not much and what sleep he got wasn't very sound. His jaw had some obvious swelling. After a cup of warm clove tea and honey he'd had to admit that he was very tired when he came in the night before and stumbled in the stable, accounting for his jaw. Well, after all, there was no lie there; he'd merely omitted a bit of the story.

When his "uncle" Belthil came in looking like something the cat dragged in it helped take the attention off of himself for a while and Elboron was grateful. Belthil, in actuality Boromir's only (if illegitimate) child and thus Elboron's cousin, was much like his father in that he enjoyed spending his free nights (when he wasn't busy with his duties as Captain-General) in a certain well-known tavern on the fourth level of Minas Tirith. It was easy to lose track of time and lose count of just how many ales one had consumed there, though it always managed to come back to one with dawn's first light.

The breakfast table had become more crowded over the years, but Aragorn entirely refused to take a morning repast in some preordained, echoing hall. The quiet and comfortable room in the King's House was more comfortable for all involved. Many who gathered at that table had blood connections that the public did not know of, even though everyone commented that they were all as a family, and a better "family" than Minas Tirith had seen in the Citadel for many a moon.

No one at the table that morning seemed especially well, with the exception of Eldarion. Elboron's jaw ached and his mind was not on eating. His father was tired, having been busy with travel arrangements and getting his office in order before leaving and then not sleeping well at night for the last several days. Belthil was decidedly hung over, even if he denied it, insisting that he'd just been low on water (which was technically true, after a night in the Merry Widow with all that fine ale).

Even Aragorn was looking exceptionally stressed. Arwen was expecting again, and though he was looking forward to being an adar again, the trip to Eriador embarking the next morning was very well timed indeed as Aragorn saw it. After all, he'd spent a good part of Arwen's first pregnancy on the road and in Imladris, so he deemed it only fitting to do the same for this second time. Pregnant Elves, Aragorn had learned, were an extremely volatile matter.

Belthil would remain in the Citadel with the Queen as he had done nearly 20 years before, while Faramir, Elboron, Aragorn, and Eldarion traveled north to Rivendell and the Shire via Rohan.

The day promised to be rather busy before the group who was traveling north was to set out. Many had last minute preparations to attend to, but Elboron, who was always thinking ahead and as prepared as his father had always been, was already set to go. He had no duties to attend to that day and so was completely free. He would have preferred having something, anything, to distract him. Elboron looked around him at his loving family, those who had been so good to him all of his life, with whom he felt unconditionally loved. That was as it was supposed to be. But Harma did not have that same experience, and it made Elboron wonder if even unconditional love had its limits.

Everyone else had finished their morning meal and were sitting back talking about the trip or heading off to get more things done. Elboron had hardly uttered a word, but with his jaw looking sore and looking so tired no one was really surprised. He decided that what he really needed was some time alone, really alone, something not easily found within the walls of the bustling city. Elboron knew more than most though, like where to find solitude amongst so many, and excused himself from the table.

Faramir gently caught his son's hand as he was rising. "You are certain you are feeling well, son? If you are coming down with something it won't be a problem to stay here a few days until you feel well and then catch everyone up at Edoras."

"I'm not unwell, ada," Elboron promised. "I just need to relax today. I will be fine." Kissing his father's cheek he left to get his cloak, where he was headed it could get rather cool even on such a warm day.

Elboron filled a few canteens; the hike definitely required a water supply. He made his way quickly from the Citadel down to the sixth level. Many called greetings to him as he passed, he was a popular young man, and he courteously waved and nodded to them in response, but he did not slow to talk with anyone as he sometimes would. Elboron passed the porter of the Closed Door and was merely waved by. He followed the winding path with the high walls that lead to Rath Dinen, but he did not remain there. At the back of the House of the Kings was a less than provisional path up the almost impossibly sheer rock wall that was Mount Mindolluin.

Though it would take the better part of the day to get up the slope and he probably wouldn't make it back down again until quite late in the night, Elboron was counting on the hike itself being something of a relief. There was a high place up on the prominence that one could look out from and see from Rauros all the way to Pelargir, provided one had good eyes. It was a calming and therapeutic place to Elboron, much as it often was to his daerada when the responsibilities of the kingship got to him, though Faramir preferred to take his holidays in Emyn Arnen and visiting the Elves of Mirkwood who had relocated to Ithilien. Aragorn had told Elboron that it was in that high place that he'd found the new tree which stood in the Citadel, and so Elboron had always associated the place with hope for the future.

Elboron made good time and had reached the High Hallow before the sun was half-way through its westward track. He wasn't sure how long he would stay, but he reckoned if he started down just after watching the sun's setting rays give brilliant color to the walls of Ephel Dúath he could get home and still get in a few hours sleep before dawn. Setting his pack up to the ledge, and pulling himself up, he looked out over the land and felt that he must be at the very top of all of Arda. The view was breathtaking (considering the air was a bit thinner so high up). He recalled going up there as a young boy with his grandfather and watching the sunset paint what once was Mordor's "outer fence," camping there, and watching the sun rise the next morning. He did regret, however, that staying till sunset would not leave him time to try to talk to….

"Harma?" Sitting on the ledge up ahead was a figure that Elboron knew almost better than his own. Elboron found himself glad that he'd brought his cloak, though it was not the wind that chilled him, but Harma's icy blue glare. Ai, Harma certainly had cooled off indeed, though to Elboron's eyes it was plain that that glare was forced. He saw all too well just how Harma was truly feeling, the redness that contrasted those cobalt eyes confirmed it well. Elboron took a deep breath – the ache inside him was exactly what he'd been trying to get away from, but then again, at least now he would have that chance to explain things properly.

It took Elboron a few moments to gather his thoughts, he'd not been expecting this at the moment, and certainly not up in the High Hallow. "Harma, I shouldn't have said what I said in that way. I didn't mean to -"

"Didn't mean to what? Hurt me? Lead me on? Give me the impression that you ever gave an orc's damn about me?" Harma spat bitterly.

Elboron flinched at that tone. "I was actually going to say that I didn't mean to intrude. I had no idea that you came here, but I understand why you would. After all, I'm here too."

"I'll go then," Harma said in a much quieter voice.

"No, you were here first. I… I should leave… if you prefer."

"It's not necessary," Harma said unemotionally.

Elboron nodded and sat back against the rock wall, without having moved any closer. He knew that he'd never find the solace he sought there now, but he understood that he couldn't just leave either. That would only make things worse. "It's incredible, all that one can see from here," he observed after the silence had gotten deafening.

Harma did not respond.

"It's hard to believe that only just before we were born no one could see the sunrise this close to Mordor."

Again, Harma said nothing.

Elboron sighed. This was how it was to be then, not even a working friendship retained. The silence continued for some while longer, Elboron looking out over the vast landscape of Gondor. He wanted to be bitter, he wanted to hate the fact that it was Gondor that prevented him from living life as he wished to, but Elboron knew all too well that it wasn't that. It was himself, he knew, his fear that held him back.

"I owe you a proper explanation," Elboron said sincerely at length. He glanced up when Harma still did not respond to him and only then noticed how those sinewy shoulders were trembling fiercely. Elboron got up and took his cloak over to Harma, thinking that it was the chill in the air making him shiver. As he went to put the cloak about his shoulders, though, Harma pushed his hands away.

"Don't," he said in an unguarded voice. "Don't. If it has to stop, then stop it. I can't, so don't make it any harder, please."

Elboron was cursing himself for holding back when he should have been holding Harma. But he did hold back and sat down again, apart from Harma. "I am sorry for this. If I could change it, if I could… be someone else, I would."

Harma considered not responding again before he said softly, "I wouldn't want you to be anyone else. Nor would your father. I shouldn't be angry with you, I'm not really, but I know that you have certain responsibilities that I can't… I know I can only cause you trouble. I know all I am good for."

Elboron had been feeling a bit relieved to hear that Harma understood his reasons, until those last few words struck him like an arrow from behind. "You cannot say that. You cannot, Harma, do you hear me? That isn't true at all, it never was."

"In you I found someone who made me believe that it was not true, I will never forget what you did for me," Harma whispered.

"Well, don't stop believing it now. Just because I am not at liberty to… do as I wish, that doesn't mean that you should stop trusting in yourself. That would be the worst thing you could do to me."

At that Harma pulled his arms in close to himself and shuddered deeply. "I love you so much, Elboron." He took a ragged breath. "I tried so hard to never say that to you, but now I know how it's to end, I had to let you know. I hope you are lucky enough to find someone who understands you, what hurts me the most is thinking of you as not free to do what makes you happy."

"I was lucky enough, Harma. I loved you, too. It's just that I can't anymore." Elboron met Harma's gaze for a moment before they both found it no longer bearable.

Harma rose and started toward the path back down. "Goodbye then. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," Elboron said, but Harma was walking away and didn't appear to hear him. It was not exactly the refuge he'd been counting on that afternoon.