Three days were spent in Edoras before the four men decided to continue on and make the most difficult part of the journey, leaving the longer visit for the return trip, which would likely be in colder, less pleasant conditions later in the year. Faramir and Eldarion were just as willing to stay a little longer in Rohan and keep the pace leisurely, but both Aragorn and Elboron thought that it would be best to make as much progress on the road to Rivendell before they became too road weary. Additionally, it was rather an unknown just what sort of welcome there would be in Dunland and Aragorn wished not to put that off, preferring to deal with it sooner than later. Elboron himself was just getting tired of his cousin's watchful eye. It bothered him that he had been so loose-lipped after a night of drinking, for he knew that he could not let slip his secret for anything.

Elfwine suspected that there was more than just a typical fancy behind the half-admitted love Elboron mumbled about drunkenly one night, for any time Rohan's prince would mention anything to do with it, Elboron would quickly come up with something to change the subject. He decided that the matter wasn't his to press, and, figuring that the girl whose name he had been hiding so desperately, and slurred so badly that Elfwine couldn't understand it anyway, was unattainable for some reason, likely already betrothed, as that was the usual problem in such matters. Elfwine was hoping that his cousin would be able to resolve the dilemma through his journey and he looked forward to spending some time showing off his horse-handling skills when the travelers came back through later in the year.

Elboron was admittedly glad to get back on the road. So far, his plan to forget what he once was had not been working. He had himself convinced that all it would take was getting away from his familiar surroundings. It had been over a week, but his dreams were still of Harma and in Rohan he had been quiet frequentlyreminded of the lean stable master of Minas Tirith, all things equine being ever so prevalent. And so, he pinned his hopes on the ride north to Imladris, if not Imladris itself, providing plenty of distraction to keep him from thinking over-much on the one he loved.

Eldarion was intensely fascinated with Isengard and was interested in exploring a bit, although Aragorn was not the greatest supporter of the idea himself. He agreed, though, that they would do a detour on the return trip. Faramir himself had never seen Orthanc and couldn't help but wonder what stores of knowledge might have been left there by Saruman, though he dearly wished that he could first consult Mithrandir as to whether any of it might be useful for anything other than the sort of things the former-White Wizard had turned to.

Anonymity was a double-edged sword in Dunland. Just what sort of a reception the four travelers might receive was not guessable and so it was agreed that it would be best to just move through unnoticed. If push came to shove Aragorn was not above pulling rank in this case, though whether that would stop any attack or make it worse was not known.

And so vigilance was the order of the day for all involved. Elboron was grateful that watchfulness offered him a distraction from his thoughts of what he was trying so earnestly to leave behind, and when distraction failed him, that his family was attentive enough to their surroundings that they didn't notice it in him.

Dunland proved to be much less of a challenge than was guessed by any of them. Oddly, though, Elboron couldn't help but feel as if some eyes were on him whenever they went passed a village. He tried to suppress the flustered sensation it brought him when it seemed like the people were reading his thoughts… could they see how he still hadn't stopped thinking of Harma? Elboron reminded himself that his ada and daerada had been known for those things but still did not really see what was troubling him.

Nonetheless, they passed through Dunland swiftly and without incident. Next it was a short rest near Ost-in-Edhil and a question of whether it would be better to follow the Greenway up to Bree, rest there and go west to the Shire first, or to go directly north, following the river to Imladris. It was really a non-question in the end; Imladris was the first destination, hands down. From there they would make a side trip to the Shire, then return to Rivendell for a while before heading back home.

On evening after supper as Aragorn and Eldarion were lighting up their pipes (a habit Arwen had not been able to keep her son from, no matter how much she wished he would take after her in that regard), a thought came to Eldarion as he settled his cloak closer about his shoulders. "I suppose I should be getting used to the idea of becoming a big brother," he said stretching out by the fire.

Aragorn looked over at his younger son with a smile. "Learn from your brother," Aragorn entreated, "not my brothers!"

"Should he learn from me, adar," Faramir said, "he will really be learning from Boromir. He was my trainer."

"I would that he and I might have had more time to known one another, I always thought that we could have been great friends and collaborators," Aragorn said, taking a long drag on his pipe.

"I have often thought the same," Faramir said quietly. "Only you would have had to do a lot to win him over completely. He used to talk about what it would be like to have a king again, this was when we were children, of course. He would talk about all the great things kings are supposed to do, and how regal they are at all times, godlike really."

Aragorn grunted at the thought of all that nonsense, then turned broodingly and said, "I've done great things… and I can be regal, if I have to be, and -"

"Godlike as well, ada?" Faramir said chuckling.

"You set me up for that!" Aragorn accused, sulkily wrapping up in his cloak and curling up by the fire. "Just for that, your watch first."

"I have no trouble taking first watch…," Faramir said innocently. "It's the elderly who need their rest."

After breakfast Harma followed Faramir (Belthil's assistant, Harma reminded himself every time the name was said) to where he would be working in Bergil's stead. Now more than ever he was beginning to wonder why they had ever asked him, of all the men in Gondor, to stand in the Captain's place. Faramir (Belthil's assistant) assured the young man that all he really needed to do was lend his name as officer delegate to any official paperwork that came through and keep logs, that it was only until Bergil's return, and that he wouldn't have to put in any public appearances whatsoever. There were official reasons why neither Belthil nor Faramir (Belthil's assistant) could put their names to the paperwork that made little sense to Harma, but he accepted it and sat down behind Captain Bergil's desk to try to get started.

It wasn't until around lunchtime that he began to wonder what his father would have to say about this. Would he finally be proud that his son had been asked to assist with such an office? More likely he would be disappointed that it was only temporary and, as Bergil said, because no one else was available. Harma guessed his father would have disregarded what the Captain said about him being one of the few he trusted to stand for him, though Harma himself still did not understand why he'd said that either.

After lunch Harma told himself to stop worrying about his father while he was there in the Citadel. It mattered not what the old man would say, for Harma had been asked to help and he would do so, regardless of what anyone else had to say about it. The work was not overly daunting, though he found it very uninspiring. Keeping a stable might not be a great adventure, he thought, but at least he knew what needed to be done when and enjoyed taking care of the horses there. He found himself hoping that the lads would fare well enough on their own and he thought perhaps he could ask if someone might be assigned to help them.

Again, Harma took his supper with Belthil and Faramir. The Captain-General and his long-time assistant made sure to check on Harma frequently through the day to make him feel welcome and a little more at ease with his work.

"Well, we all put in a solid day… anyone care to join me in a drink?" Belthil said after devouring dessert.

Faramir declined and suggested that Harma go along to make sure Belthil got home all right.

"Don't need a keeper," Belthil pouted, unaware of just exactly how much he looked like his father when he did so. "Anyway, how about it, Harma? I should buy you an ale in appreciation."

Harma was about to decline also in favor of turning in early, but he decided to try to accept generosity with sociability for a change, instead of refusing it with humility. He liked these two and they seemed to like him as well, and Harma was starting to think that there was nothing wrong with having friends, even outside of one's station in life, after all.

Throughout the day and through dinner there was something about Belthil's outfit that struck Harma as odd somehow. It didn't hit him what it was until they were heading across the courtyard passed the fountain. "My lord," Harma said, "forgive me, but I believe your belt is done up backwards."

Belthil flashed a big smile at Harma and said, "yes, actually it is, but there is a reason for that – it is a signal, to those who know what it means."

Harma just looked confused.

"I'd tell you if I could, but… I'm not sure that you are… qualified to receive this information. It is restricted knowledge."

"Oh, naturally," Harma said, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I shouldn't want to pry at all, I just… well, I was taught that -"

"Oh, I know all of that. 'Uniforms are meant to be standardized in all things.' Those of us who belong to a certain group use this to identify each other, a subtle signal that isn't really noticed by anyone else. Usually they just think we've done up our belts backwards."

"But how do you tell if someone is in the faction or just has done up their belt backwards without realizing it?" Harma asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

"Well, most of us know who we are. You can usually tell, though. I guess it's intuitive among us," Belthil said still smiling. Harma was only looking more perplexed. "You know, ordinarily I shouldn't be telling you any of this, we are very protective of these secrets. For the most part, we have to be."

"I apolog-"

"Don't worry about it!" Belthil said, slinging an arm around Harma's shoulders, surprising him with his gregariousness. "Let's get on to that ale."

"Captain!" the shouts rose as Belthil was seen entering the Merry Widow.

Belthil lifted his hand in a general greeting and guided Harma toward the quieter tables to the back of the tavern.