Elboron lay there on the cold stone outside the Golden Hall watching the sun rise. Had he been in Minas Tirith, someone would have either woken him up or carried him inside. It would have been unseemly otherwise. Here, no one really seemed to mind if the two cousins drank themselves into oblivion and fell asleep outside. It was generally considered that "boys would be boys" after all.

"Glad you're awake," Elfwine said nearby. "I didn't realize you aren't used to the kind of ale we have here. I hope I didn't press you to take too much."

"No…," Elboron said foggily.

"Good. Breakfast will be before too long, in the meantime I should get you some water. I should warn you, you're tongue was a little bit loose last night."

For a second Elboron stared horrified at his cousin.

Elfwine chuckled. "Cousin, you need to spend more time here and less time in that City of yours! I mean you were talking about things that you likely wouldn't talk much about without having been drinking. When you came here yesterday you were tired, but sober, and said that you'd been too busy for ladies… last night, on the other hand, you mentioned two, by name."

Elboron was still staring at his cousin, this time less horrified than mortified.

Elfwine was still laughing. "Don't worry about it! You didn't say anything… specific. You just mentioned names, Thilien and something else… Harla? Anyway… I won't tell them," he winked.

Now Elboron just looked confused. "Thilien?"

Elfwine nodded. "You said you would have gone to her, but for some reason you couldn't have her, she's across the river."

"Across the…. Oh! Ithilien! No, that is not a lady I was referring to, cousin, I meant I was tempted to go to Ithilien for a while if things…. What exactly did I say about Harma?"

Elfwine smiled, waiting for his cousin to get his bearings after drinking too much was really amusing. "You said you missed her. But that was all. Of course you had a hold of my arm when you said it."

"Sorry about that," Elboron said.

"Forget it, let's go wake up the horses."

"Bori'?" a sleepy Harma murmured. He didn't feel anyone beside him as he started to wake, but he was sure he was in Elboron's bed. It was so soft and big. He could sleep forever like that. It wasn't until there was no response that Harma opened his eyes and looked around. He was not in Elboron's apartments, that much he could tell, but he wasn't sure where he was either.

Suddenly he went still… he could remember no details from the night before and he hoped that he hadn't done something he'd regret.

There was a knock at the door, and for a moment Harma waiting, expecting the owner of the sumptuous bed to come answer it as it probably wouldn't be a very good idea for him to do so himself.

No one came to the door, though, nor did he hear anyone in any other room. A knock again, and with it this time someone said, "Harma? Are you awake?"

He couldn't place that voice. How could someone know he was there though? Unless it was the owner of the bed… but they why would they knock? In the end he decided he might as well respond, saying that he was awake.

"How are you feeling? Do you wish to join us for breakfast?" he was asked.

The Captain-General, Harma thought for certain, and started to remember something from the day before. Filling in for Captain Bergil… and with no idea what to do or how he would do it. But he had agreed, seeing how Bergil feared that his father was seriously ill.

Rubbing his eyes, he moved to get out of the bed, only to fall onto the floor. Elboron had always been the one who reminded him to watch the height of the bed, so much loftier were they in the Citadel. Collecting himself, he answered the door to address Belthil.

Harma offered a half-bow, but Belthil cut it short. "We haven't even had breakfast, I shouldn't think either of us are exactly on duty just yet. Either way, if you are going to be taking care of Bergil's office, there is no need for all that anyway. Get dressed, you can join Faramir and me."

Harma looked back inside the room, remembering that the clothes he had on he had borrowed from Belthil's assistant, and it wasn't enough that he had borrowed them in the first place but to wear them for another day after having slept in them would just make him too self-conscious.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Belthil said, seeing Harma's hesitancy, "I had them put your things in my rooms. Wait a moment."

Harma blinked a couple of times at the Captain-General's back as he hurried back down the corridor. He did not recall anything from some time after supper as he sat with Lord Belthil and his assistant Faramir, and he dearly hoped he hadn't made a fool of himself right off. Clearly he couldn't even remember going to bed, and he looked out into the hallway hoping something might remind him.

On the wall directly across the hall from his door there was something that Harma recognized at once: a beautiful tapestry depicting Elendil with Isildur and Anarion fleeing from Númenor with the symbols and relics they rescued from the island. It hung on the wall beside the door to Elboron's sitting room. Harma stood staring at the finely woven artwork for a time, his mind filled with thoughts of times he'd sneaked by that wall-hanging with Elboron to spend the night in his beloved's embrace.

"Here we are," Belthil called, coming back down the hall. "If you find you need anything else from home just let me know and I have someone run down for you. Anyway, get dressed and I'll walk you down to the dining room. I rather doubt you recall the way from last night?"

Harma knew the way perfectly well, even if he had only ever seen it by candle or moonlight. He smiled slightly, seeing that he probably had made a fool of himself the night before, but that Belthil didn't hold it against him. "I might have celebrated getting out of the Houses of Healing a little too eagerly," Harma said, "but I do recall the way up. Thank you for offering, but I don't want to hold you back, I do wish to get properly ready for the day. Would it be permissible for me to meet you in the breakfast room?"

Belthil did his best not to laugh at how formal Harma was obviously trying to be. He would lighten up before long, people always thought of the Citadel as a place of exquisite primness, until they got to know better. "Certainly, anything you are comfortable with is fine, Harma," Belthil said assuringly. "We will see you at breakfast then."

Harma was grateful that Belthil did not seem to mind, and he slowly closed the door and prepared for the day ahead. When he was all set, he went out into the hallway, but instead of going down to greet the others, he crossed over to Elboron's door. For a nervous moment he only rested his hand on the doorknob, thinking how many times Elboron must have grasped it in his own hand. When he was sure no one would see him, he let himself in. Harma thought it best to get it over with right away. He knew that if he was to be staying across the hall from his lover's chambers, he would not rest until he had gone in for a moment. Looking about, Harma felt a creeping pain steal over him with the knowledge that Elboron no longer would welcome him passionately in to his apartments.

Harma turned and made his way to breakfast. He knew if he stayed in Elboron's sitting room much longer he would find himself going over to the bed chamber, and he did not think he could bear that at the moment.

"Faramir!" Éomer called to his brother-in-law as they entered the hall for breakfast. "I trust you slept well?"

Faramir's response was a polite nod, it had come to be something of a joke that Faramir didn't usually sleep very well within Meduseld.

"I can't get over how much my nephew has grown," Éomer said. "It makes me stop and see how much my Elfwine has also grown. These men will be taking over our lands one day!"

"I'd rather like that day to be a bit further off," Faramir said.

"Elboron seems as if he's already taken over Minas Tirith. He looks as tired as you usually do. You know, he is my sister's son and I'm sure he has her… self-determination, at times. Éowyn never could stand to be cooped up, and if Elboron is anything like her, he's probably suffocating in that fortress of a -"

"What exactly are you insinuating? That I keep my son locked up all day?" Faramir asked with an edge to his tone.

"Of course not," Éomer replied beginning to feel offended. "But what I am saying is that it is rather difficult to move through a city with so many barriers in place. If Éowyn had had a bit more freedom perhaps she would still -"

"Mind what you say next," Faramir snapped at the King of Rohan. Even though much had been put aside between the two men, there were still some things that Faramir did not wish to discuss with anyone, especially at an early hour. On the other hand, Éomer just naturally seemed to have an ability to get on Faramir's wrong side, something incredibly difficult to do for nearly everyone else.

Aragorn had been about to enter the dining hall just after Éomer and Faramir did, but something told him to stay back for the moment. Then, seeing his son's mood and knowing that it was one that only Éomer could call out, he stepped forward without hesitating. "Good morning, gentlemen!" he said cheerfully, never minding the two half-glares sent his way. "Seems to be a mark of age, does it not? We sleep early and rise early, while our son's prefer later hours."

Faramir and Éomer exchanged a glance. It was obvious that Aragorn was just trying to intercede; after all, millennia old Elves had no difficulty on little sleep, so it couldn't possibly have anything to do with one's number of years.

Sighing Éomer said, "I shouldn't have put it quite that way. What I was trying to say was that, if Elboron should wish, he is always welcome to visit here, for however long. And honestly, I could really use the help if he's up to it. A son of yours must surely have your venerable skill for negotiation, much as mine has my… rashness, at times."

Faramir looked ready to protest the idea immediately, but as he started to open his mouth it came to him that Éomer was, unbelievably, rather on target. It did rather seem as if Elboron had started to feel suffocated by the White City, in much the same way that Éowyn had.

Aragorn laughed unexpectedly. "You came by it honestly enough," he said to Éomer. "Éomund was in no way different from you at all."

"You should speak to Elboron," Faramir conceded. He had been close to answering for his son one way or the other, but it had never been Faramir's way to speak for anyway, least of all his "little boy," who had been anything but for many years. Though he hated the idea, perhaps, he thought, it would be beneficial for Elboron to spend a little time away from family as well as home.

He understood well enough that even those who loved each other unconditionally could drive each other to madness if they weren't occasionally on their own. It was so when he was young, so much younger, before either he or Boromir were so consumed with their duties, that at times they would come to shouting at one another over nothing at all. After Boromir took on more duties and longer, more frequent missions, they never argued again, not once. The same pattern was seen in so many others that Faramir had come to figure it out quickly: absence makes the heart grow fonder.

There was a certain defeat that Aragorn could distinguish in Faramir's eyes and it saddened him. He was certain that Elboron was well enough, and though it was clear that he was having a bit of time sorting some things out, that was quite normal for a man his age. Eldarion, though only just a fraction younger than Elboron, had yet to hit that stage, likely because of his Elven blood, Aragorn guessed. Aragorn knew, too, that it was only a matter of time before Elboron confided his struggle in someone. The only thing that bothered him, and likely was the root of Faramir's worry, too, was that it almost seemed that Elboron did not trust any of his family with his confidence as he always had. All things considered, Aragorn remembered when he'd gone through that very well, and he wondered if a forbidden love wasn't the source of Elboron's torment as it had been for him an age ago.

Before long, the three young sons of the three most powerful Men in Middle-earth all entered the hall together, looking quite hungry.

"Now, that's one thing that hasn't changed with age, Aragorn," Eomer said. "No matter how old a man gets, food is the first thing on hismind at this hour of the day!"