"Are you sure you're feeling alright, Your Highness? Do you want me to get you something from the living room? Maybe some water or an additional blanket?" Though the Citadel had actually hired Ranír to comply with Arwen's every wish … Just because she'd mostly been busy making the Queen's pregnancy as comfortable as possible for her in the last few months, she couldn't just ignore this strong protection instinct, now that she was sitting around in the bedroom of another heavily pregnant she-elf, tensely listening to even the smallest noise outside in the hall.

Getting here had been very much like running the gauntlet; any second, she had expected to see a shape coming jumping out from behind a tree, or that, in spite of what she'd heard in this conversation earlier, another soldier would turn out to be one of their enemies and assault her from behind … But everything had still remained silent by the time she'd finally been able to knock on the door of Thondrar's chambers, trembling with fear and coldness. Well, as silent as it could be when most residents and servants were busy celebrating.

A single look at Ranír's face and a few intimidated murmured words had been enough for the courageous elven warrior to hastily throw on his armor over his sleeping tunic, to strap his usual large shield with the crest of his father's house to his paralyzed arm and follow her to the chambers of his Lady just a few doors down.

That was a lot more composure than the she-elf of Lórien could come up with in the light of the next terrible news. It had been a while since Ranír had seen the Princess since by now, she was hardly allowed to leave her bed at all anymore, on orders of the healers. All the more had the deathly pale sight of the Firstborn frightened her. Even a casual watcher couldn't ignore that the imminent delivery completely overwhelmed her body which was so delicate except for her huge belly. Her breathing was going heavier than Ranír had ever heard it from an elf; every smallest movement had her grab her back or her belly with an expression contorted with pain. With a routine that revealed, it wasn't his first time doing that, Thondrar had to help her shift her position again and again but she seemed neither able to find an even remotely comfortable one on her beck nor on her side. Ranír decided, that she didn't even want to know when Tarisilya had last slept.

She wanted to do something nice for the she-elf so badly but her offer only had Tarisilya shake her head tiredly. "Stay here until we get an all-clear signal. This whole thing is already taking far too long. The bastards have probably escaped them again already. Two against four in a completely crowded hall when you don't want to cause a panic or provoke a fight? This was doomed from the start."

"At least we know whom we're dealing with now, Ilya." Once the she-elf had said it out loud what they'd probably all been reluctantly realizing in the last few minutes already, Thondrar tried to cheer her up, too. "Every available man out there will be searching for the four of them from now on …"

"Four firebugs on the loose. Or even just one of them. That's more than enough to start a new forest fire. We've seen it happen often enough, haven't we?" Ranír had never heard the she-elf talk with so much bitterness and hopelessness, with so much negativity in her usually so pretty deep voice. "Give it a few weeks and these madmen will already have gathered a whole group around them again to admire them, especially when they have such an easy time escaping tonight. This will never be over. We'll never be able to live here in peace …"

Before anyone could make another attempt to stop these destructive thoughts, they startled because someone knocked on the chambers' doors, so loudly that they could even hear it in here.

"Milady?" For a moment, cautious relief filled Ranír when she recognized the voice of the soldier outside.

Langhour had probably joined him. Yes, that had to be it. So Aragorn and he had been able to stop the Stewardaides after all. In a few seconds, everything …

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over her head when the next thing she had to hear was the name of the man of all people who had kept her so busy in the last few weeks. "Please forgive the late disturbance, but Hithrim is here. He says, the King sends him. It's very important. Apparently, something was wrong with the dinner earlier. The man sounded completely unsuspicious of the administrator's new shameless lie and worried for Tarisilya on top of that. How was he supposed to know …

Thondrar's eyes were wide open; his healthy hand lay instinctively on his sword handle already. You could all but watch his thoughts race while Tarisilya had crossed her arms protectively on her belly.

"We can't warn him," the elf panted out with clenched teeth, too quietly for the man on the other side of the door to notice his presence. "He has no idea. If we sound the alarm, Hithrim might attack him from behind and flee."

"We cannot let that happen, no way." In spite of the new shock, Tarisilya had apparently found her fighting spirit back. With some effort, she managed to sit up a little straighter but fell back down immediately with a moan, reached for Thondrar's hand in agitation when the soldier knocked once more, shouting louder, apparently assuming she was asleep.

"Don't let him get away. It would be our fault if these madmen start over. I don't want even more people to lose their lives to a few King's enemies and elf haters."

Thondrar was visibly reluctant to have his Lady get even an inch closer to these insane people, but there was no time to argue. Suddenly they heard the chambers' main door being unlocked.

Of course; Hithrim as someone who was personally bringing food and drinks to all kinds of chambers regularly had a key for almost every door in this building. That was exactly what made him so dangerous … And he'd apparently convinced the soldier that this was an emergency.

"Stay where you are. Milady, come on."

Before Ranír, in her growing fear of a confrontation, had even understood what was happening, Thondrar had jumped up from his chair and grabbed her arm, yanking her from hers quite ungently, pushing her towards the walk-in cabinet in the corner. "Get in there, and stay there. Nothing will happen to you in there."

He cursed when the soldier outside in the living room suddenly screamed in pain, followed by the thud of a body falling. Hithrim was apparently sick of the charade and had seized the chance when the warrior had been inattentive for a moment to get rid of him.

Just a second later, the main door snapped shut again, the key was turned once more … this time from the inside though. The bastard was completely serious.

Her hand ice-cold, Ranír braced herself against the elf's arm before he could push her inside the cabinet. No matter how terrified she was, she couldn't just leave the others alone …

It was only the memory of Langhour's loving smile in this haystack earlier that kept her from just reaching for some blunt object. She had no battle training at all; she didn't need anyone to tell her that she would probably not have survived such a stupidity. A fearful wish sufficed that she had rarely ever felt so strongly before: to be able to return to someone she loved.

"I'll take care of the Princess, don't worry." Thondrar squeezed her shoulder soothingly before closing the cabinet door just as soundlessly as he was moving.

Both the comforting warmth and care of a millennia-old being and the sound of this infatuating, melodic voice engulfed Ranír, almost like a thick blanket – or maybe a Dúnadan's cloak. At least a little calmer, she sank down on the floor of the cabinet, her arms tightly wrapped around her knees, listening closely.

All she could do now was wait.


Tarisilya was relieved once the handmaiden was gone from the immediate danger zone. The girl had already put herself into enough danger. And if she hadn't done so once more tonight, if Thondrar and she hadn't been warned … The realization that she would probably not even have woken up then before this bastard would have thrust a dagger into her body, had her heart that was already beating quite irregularly anyway race even harder.

The situation was still dire, but she was fully aware of Thondrar's presence every second, even when he withdrew into the corner behind the door. By now, she'd learned enough about tactics from her husband and her cousin to know, that welcoming someone potentially heavily armed unprotected at the entrance would have been too risky for her bodyguard. Still, having to deal with this insane man for even a split second, was choking her. Her right hand was clenched around the covers; the other lay under her pillow in an instinct she hadn't even felt at first.

If it would come to it … Then she had to be ready. Just like in Rohan back then.

The coldness of unbridled worry for the helpless life in her belly caused nausea in her stomach when Hithrim pushed the door open without even knocking. The time of politeness was over. The man wasn't walking half as hunched over as usual which revealed a far taller and especially a very strong figure, distinct muscles under a distracting layer of fat. His grey eyes were piercing, clear like the winter night outside, fixed on her. And filled with bloodlust. The man knew exactly that he had lost on every front … Now he wanted at least to gain a last triumph. Perhaps even desperately hoping, just like Barhit had used to back then, that such a high-profile act would win over new people for his cause and, above all, create unrest in the realm.

"You are not welcome here, enemy of the King. Leave while you can." That was all the warning she was ready to give the guy before he would doubtlessly approach her, probably not understanding that they weren't being alone at all before he would have a blade pierce his body. These people hadn't had mercy on their victims either.

"Why so rude suddenly?" her opposite asked scornfully. "Aren't you usually a lot nicer to male visitors in your bedroom? They say, a certain librarian from Rivendell was being especially close to you. How else would you know what you whispered in the King's ear about me?" When the man took a first step towards her, long, curved metal flashed in his hand, glistening in the weak light of the moon and the one from the torches in the yard falling through the window.

Tarisilya admonished herself to not fall into a panic but to close her hand tighter around her own weapon. Thondrar would long have offed the guy before she would need it. But she wouldn't take even the slightest risk when it came to protecting her unborn.

"Why are you doing this?"

The hope to buy a few more seconds before this thing could become really ugly came true. Maybe it helped that one could hear it in her voice that even now, in this situation, she wanted to understand.

"The children of the King are pretty, aren't they?" Hithrim stopped in the middle of the room, with his eyes wandering in disinterested over where Tarisilya's nightgown was tightly stretched around a certain spot on her body. Underneath, there was the latest version of the Mithril shirts that Gimli had given her as a protection again and again in the last few months; Thondrar had helped her put it on earlier. But not even that would have been of any use if she'd been alone right now, she knew that.

"I'm sure your baby would have been pretty too, at least for an elvish bastard. Mine was enchanting. You know, sadly, I couldn't acknowledge it as my own because we weren't married. But I visited her as often as possible. Then the orcs smashed the city gate and entered her house. Her parents didn't stand a chance, and neither did the child. Have you ever seen a baby with half a face eaten off? Not a nice sight, let me tell you. My beloved held on a little longer. The orcs only fled when the battle on the fields outside ended. When I came to her, she was hardly even alive. I begged every healer in the city to go see her. No one had time for us. After the Battle of the Black Gate, I tried to ask your beloved King but he was too busy taking care of you and his elvish whore. And then he took you west before you could help even one simple citizen of this city. One day after your departure, she breathed out her life. And I couldn't even be there for her anymore at this point because her last relatives weren't allowed to know."

"Not even on the day of her death did you stand by her," Tarisilya said calmly. She didn't even manage to come up with a feeling as strong as hate for this pathetic man. If he would survive this, living out the rest of his life would be punishment enough. "How big must your hate for yourself really be if the only way for you to bear it is trying to destroy someone who brought peace to this land? Do you really want to continue making yourself unhappy?"

"Oh, I won't live long enough anymore to often be unhappy, Princess. But I'll take at least one of you hypocrites with me. Or should we rather say, two?"

Suddenly, unexpected given the wistful moment of regret and tears, the madness returned to the man's eyes. He stormed towards her and raised his dagger jerkily.

Without even a moment of hesitation, Tarisilya rammed her own dagger into Hithrim's leg, right when Thondrar's sword pierced the side of the man's back. Blood gushed upon her, so much blood, Hithrim was screaming shrilly … But at the very same moment, her bodyguard and she startled as they realized the mistake they'd both made, out of the last bit of respect for life, even for a murderer's … Today, they should rather have followed this unscrupulous bastard's example.

Even while Thondrar yanked his sword back to swing it again, Tarisilya watched her attacker raise his weapon again with wide eyes, his hand bathed in blood, trembling, his body half-collapsed on her bed but still way too close …

Then an arrow buzzing through the open window almost cut Hithrim's head off his body, ending another life that had long failed.

Though Thondrar was still lost in the shock about a catastrophe just barely prevented, he reacted immediately and pushed the corpse to the floor, throwing one of the blankets now colored a deep red over it.

With tears of relief in her eyes, Tarisilya looked towards where that missile with the distinguishing feathers on the shaft had come from.

Legolas hung in the window opposite hers with his bow, at such an impossible angle, so far outside, it made her realize immediately there had to be someone inside holding him, stabilizing his position for him to even be able to make this crucial shot across this distance. If she remembered the bedroom located behind this window right, it was probably the King.

In spite of the many feet between them, she could see the limitless panic, the worry about her in her husband's face, and quickly raised her hand to signal him, she was alright. At least on the outside.

She thought to be able to see him close his eyes in relief for a moment before he swung back inside. Hopefully, to get here immediately. She had never needed him by her side as much as right now.

"Your Highness, by the stars …" Ranír had apparently become sick of her hideout. With just a very fleeting, disgusted look at the shape of the dead person, she let herself fall onto the mattress next to Tarisilya.

"Are you alright? Is everything alright with the baby?"

Tarisilya was already about to calmingly nod but then paused mid-movement. Her breathing that was so impaired right now anyway and had only just calmed down a little, caught in her throat. For a moment, she wasn't sure if she was really being in Minas Tirith, in a luxurious guestroom, or if she was in truth still at a certain clearing in Rohan, after another just barely won fight had ended, with the false security of triumph that she was trying to radiate for her companions. At least until the insides of her thighs had suddenly been wet with blood.

No blood this time; not thick, not hot enough. That wasn't a relief.

"Ilya?" By now, Thondrar knew her well enough to be able to read almost every twitch on her face, even every smallest gesture. He saw her spasm and lean forward a bit immediately.

And how her hands clawed on the covers even harder than earlier. She couldn't bring herself to put them on her belly, not right now. The new-old coldness filled every corner of her soul too intensively within split seconds, filled every single cell of her body.

Only when her cousin called her name again, she opened her mouth, but instead of an answer, a loud scream came from her lips. Now, her right hand came to rest on her lower belly after all. And she felt exactly what she had already been afraid of the whole time. Nothing had changed since last she had checked. At least the wait was over now.

Her only job now was to make sure that she wouldn't tear someone else down into the abyss with her.

"Get Lord Elrond. Now!"


It had been Langhour who had quickly taken Tarisilya to the guestroom right next to hers before Ranír and he had vanished for the moment; it wasn't hard to guess where to.

She didn't want to have her baby in a place where another assassination had just barely been prevented only shortly before. And where a murder had happened on top of that. Even though it had been someone who had got what he'd deserved, these weren't the right surroundings for a new life.

As far as she knew, the feisty Dúnadan had also personally taken the last three living Stewardaides to prison, thereby completing the recent quest Aragorn had sent him on at last. The stars for a new period of his life couldn't be better.

Tarisilya herself though could unfortunately not even start to relax yet. Just a few minutes had passed when she started to regret, having given in to both the healers and Arwen, too, who had persuaded her not to try and resist tradition, no matter how little she had liked it, sending Legolas away. It hadn't been the consideration of some stupid superstitious tradition so much that had changed her mind in the end; it had been Arwen's honest explanation that the reason why she had not wished for her husband to be by her side back then, had been that she simply hadn't wanted him to see her like this. To suffer with her like this.

So Tarisilya had nodded reluctantly, had tightly wrapped her arms around Legolas' shoulders once more, and had enjoyed a last tender kiss before she had watched him close the door behind him, blind with tears. Even before the doorknob had completely sprung back into place, that sensation like warg teeth being buried into her lower belly had hit again, and she had thought that it had been the right decision. She wasn't sure if Legolas could have dealt with sitting beside her while she was screaming her head off.

But now that Ioreth was finally finished with putting a fresh, wide dress on her and started to fill this strange, unused guestroom with countless cloths, bowls, bottles, and other utensils … Now that Aragorn over there at the fireside was also busy with brewing a number of healing potions already, the twins being guarded by the other elves of Cair Andros for the moment … Now Tarisilya knew, she couldn't dodge a very unpleasant revelation any longer.

And when her personal elvish healer came to her side to feel her lower belly for the first time tonight … Given the dark expression spreading on the pointed features of her old friend immediately, that was when Tarisilya wished, she wouldn't be without backup now after all.

Elrond looked her way for a moment, visibly upset. He seemed to be contemplating how to gently give her the bad news … The shock turned into anger instantly when he realized, he couldn't tell her anything that she didn't already know.

"Estel, I will need you here soon. Wash your hands thoroughly with alcohol. Ilya, when did you realize the baby hasn't turned?"

Tarisilya tried in vain to ignore Ioreth's frightened gasp, and that clank when Aragorn dropped the spoon that he had used to stir one of the pots with, or how Arwen covered her mouth with her hand. She already had been through all that and was tired of talking about it at this point. She just wanted to get this over with now. "A few days." Her voice sounded hollow.

"And it did not by any chance enter your mind to tell us?" She had indeed only rarely seen the Lord so irritated. Maybe she should have gone to see him after all, at least to not burden him with even more this terrible night.

But what difference would that have made in the end? "Why? Then you would only have tried the same you're planning now, too. And it will be just as useless and hurt just as much."

"Valar, Tarisilya!" Everyone in the room, even the unborn in her belly, startled when Elrond slapped his hand on the night table, losing his calm. "You've asked me to stay in the city to stand by you yourself, haven't you? I can only do that when I know what I'm dealing with!"

So it was probably time to come clean now after all. She'd actually hoped to be able to delay this moment. She was feeling bad enough, without having to bear a torrent of the same empty words on top that she had been tortured with for centuries. "You're not here to stand by me, milord."

Dead silence spread in the room immediately; even Ioreth who was busy piling towels eagerly, paused, with her mouth hanging open. What a blessing. Tarisilya better enjoyed the calmness; it would surely not come back tonight. When the last wave that only just ebbed loosened its merciless grip on her body, she let herself sink back in exhaustion and absently wiped her forehead on her already sweat-soaked pillow.

Soon … soon, the Lord would put his hands on her belly again, and Aragorn would, too. With united forces, they would try to get the baby to move that had already been far too big for such stunts for weeks anyway … Maybe the Valar would be gracious and the pain would rob her of consciousness. That would have been a relief if she didn't have to fear not even being allowed to look at her husband and especially at her baby, too, then, at least for a single time, before her body would give up, defeated by blood loss and all the injures that the next few hours would cause.

"Save my baby, Lord Elrond, Your Majesty, I'm begging you. No matter what it takes."

Just like expected, Ioreth started to scold her impatiently, ranting about far too young she-elves who had heard too many ghost stories while Aragorn followed Elrond's instructions, rolling his eyes.

But Arwen just brushed Tarisilya's sweat-soaked bangs from her forehead, with a sad headshake, and gave it a brief kiss. At least her friend carried this unbelievably heavy burden with her wordlessly.

Elrond had suddenly turned conspicuously quiet as well. That he had no plans at all to indulge in admonishments and reassurances like the mannish healer, Tarisilya only realized when he put a hand on Arwen's back for a moment to get her attention. "Get Thondrar."

"Ada?" The Queen frowned in confusion, straightening up a little from the bed, unsure about what to make of this unusual order. Especially after that whole stupid discussion about tradition earlier – men simply weren't welcome at a delivery if they didn't happen to be healers.

"Now," Elrond repeated, impatiently and insistently. "This is a sickness that not even the most capable hands can't heal."

When Tarisilya understood that he was talking about her state of mind, her resignation and hopelessness were replaced by hot anger, strong enough to make her want to flare up but another twinge in her lower belly stopped her.

"Oh, so now that you're realizing, I was right the whole time, I'm suddenly crazy again? You think so too, Aragorn? That I'm only imagining my mother having the exact same problems back then that I have? When will you finally understand this? You can't just ignore it anymore! When you needed the help of my gift, my fate was always good enough for you, wasn't it?"

Another bitter laugh escaped her throat that quickly turned into a moan though. When she put her hand on her belly once more, she could only feel it even clearer that everything in there was rock hard. That the child was restlessly protesting against the loud voices in the room and the muscle contractions, accidentally causing her even more pain thanks to its unfortunate position. Everything, just everything about it felt wrong, and a few unctuous phrases wouldn't change that.

"Ilya. You're thrashing about, hitting innocents." Aragorn audibly tried his best to not let his words sound like an accusation, but he could hardly hide that he felt more uncomfortable by the second. By now, he must almost have burned the skin off his wrists, given how firmly he was rubbing them with alcohol-soaked cloths.

"I'll take care of it, Estel. Stand by."

Elrond only waited until the guest he'd asked for had entered the room, looking just as confused as Arwen had before he turned to Tarisilya again.

"It is time for all the veils to fall then. I wish we wouldn't have to do this tonight of all times, but you leave me no choice. It was never your powers I doubted, child of the moon. Only your completely insane interpretation of a story the details of which have already been lost before anyone in this room was even born. The Valar would never have put a curse on someone with a heart as pure as yours or your mother's. Instead, they gave you an unparalleled gift."

It didn't exactly help that now Thondrar was sitting down by her other side, reaching for her hand in determination, eying her with the same irritation he'd displayed not too long ago when they had found out who the two of them really were. He of all people should have understood.

Tarisilya pulled away from him, tempted to cover her ears just so that she wouldn't have to listen to Elrond's nonsense anymore. Thinking clearly became harder and harder because the contractions were already starting to come in shorter intervals. This cruel pain inside of her became worse every time, and all she could do was wait for the point when she would be able to feel something inside of her give in for the first time. Sermons on top were the last thing she needed.

"You don't understand this, milord, you never did."

"You're right," Elrond answered surprisingly calmly though even Arwen now clicked her tongue in offense at her father and his wisdom being insulted.

A being that had seen more Ages than all of them – except for Thondrar who had just a few decades on him – couldn't be thrown off balance so easily. And only now Tarisilya started to realize that she should maybe rather be damn glad that the Lord was one of the few people around her, she'd never managed to chase away with her crankiness regarding this matter.

"Indeed, I could never comprehend in full so far what this whole story regarding your family means because I've always lacked an important piece of the puzzle. Namely, the one that your bodyguard here and his father could finally come up with some time ago. Your grandmother died giving birth, too, didn't she, Ilya? When she had your mother, in fact."

"And that's still not enough proof for my words for you?" She tried to keep on sounding angry about him still interfering, but the pain had already robbed her of a lot of strength. Tears choked her voice instead, and when Thondrar lovingly took her hand in his again, she sobbed away. She didn't want this to happen, damnit … Now of all times when the threat of these unspeakable Stewardaides was finally gone, when Arwen and the kids were doing fine and Tarisilya had unexpectedly found a new family member on top … How much she wished to see the beginning of the new Age of Men and of the last of elves here on Middle-earth! She didn't want to be forced to leave already …

"On the contrary."

Elrond signaled Arwen to make room for him and let himself sink onto the edge of Tarisilya's bed, resting his hand on her forehead to check on her for a moment, ignoring her when she startled away. He shook his head, concerned. They wouldn't have much time left to talk.

"This distant tragedy that's happened not too long before the fall of Gondolin, is the source of all your fears. Being angry with an entity in the sky was easier for you than the fact that sometimes bad things happen even to good people. Like a very fragile shape that's being passed on to the female members of your family and that has made every birth particularly risky for generations. I don't blame you for even the healer in you being unable to realize that. Only for never accepting the possibility in your heart that fate is something you can change if you actively try. For example by coming up with a little faith in the protection by the elder and the stars that's long been lost to you."

Not even her cousin's most tender touch, not one of her best friend's calmingly whispered words could stop Tarisilya's tears now. For a moment, even the physical pain let up, outshone by the far more intense mental one that the separation from her father and her brother caused that she'd only just thought halfway processed.

"Stop it!"

"I can't, child of the moon," Elrond explained, looking outside the window for a moment, far into the distance. West. "When your father rested in my valley for the last time on his way to Aman, I promised him to do everything in my power to protect you. I can't allow you to keep on looking away. Otherwise, everything that you went through since the end of the war would be for nothing. You see, if your father had foreseen what your mother being so lost in confusion and writing all that down would do to you, he would never have given you her book. According to him, she never could bring herself to address that subject rationally either and find the most obvious explanation, because their loss always prevented her and her sister from getting really close to each other. And then they were parted, first by their fight and then by death, before they could reconcile."

He reached to the other side of the bed and squeezed Thondrar's conspicuously twitching paralyzed upper arm for a supportive, fatherly moment, until the other elf could blink away his own tears suddenly being very close to the surface, too.

"But once I had finally learned about all the connections and could look up the legend of the child of the moon in the right books, I have at least found something that might show you the positive aspects of your story instead of the threat." Taking a deep breath, Elrond bent to the nightstand that Tarisilya's book, the book of her mother lay on. Opening the last empty page and reaching for a quill, he drew a few shapes on it without even asking.

It took Tarisilya a few breathless seconds to identify the hurriedly put-down lines as a symbol of Gondolin, as the one of his most famous Lord to be exact, the legendary sun surrounded by its aggressive rays, always ready to fight. And suddenly, her mouth was bone dry.

"The story here is incomplete. Nestradyl just couldn't know that because there was no one to tell her. There was always not only the moon, Ilya. From the beginning, there was the sun as well. Older and more experienced beings than me will have to answer the question about the connection between your gift and the stars one day. But one thing is for certain: Like these stars above us, these two incarnations have always defined each other's way. Your mother, Thondrar, Sednara … It was not by chance that her path led her to Gondolin and to Glorfindel's court when she left her village and Nestradyl behind back then. She was the sun, but I suppose, the love for this fate in her died together with your grandparents. Glorfindel told me that not even he had ever known anything about these abilities hidden deep inside of her. But she, too, has passed her destiny on."

Listening to these revelations at least as anxiously as Tarisilya was, the last of them hit Thondrar just as ice-cold as her. He had to shake off his silent fascination and curiosity first before he could answer, with an almost hysterical sounding, forced laugh.

"Me? With all respect for your love for the old myths and tales, milord … I'm a warrior, like my father before me. That's all I ever was. My tool is the sword. I carry about as many magical powers in me as a Mûmak."

"Wrong," Elrond objected once more, not letting himself be thrown off in the least. "You just never discovered them because you as well had lacked the second half of your life. You are carrying the sun of Gondolin in your heart because it is under its shine that you were born. Find it, Glorfindelion."

He got up and came to stand opposite Thondrar who stood up a little slower, completely at a loss. He grabbed the son of his loyal warlord by his shoulders almost painfully tightly. The fire of eons was burning in his eyes, looking almost black in the candlelight. For a moment, all lines of age and exhaustion were gone from his face. His voice filled the room like a roar, talking in one of the Noldor's oldest dialects, blood-curdling almost like the black speech of Mordor. Every syllable had Thondrar shake, bursting something open that had been hidden inside of him all his life.

"Breathe it, let it run through your veins the way it should always have. And in this hard night, give its power to your sister star so that it may keep its place in the sky."

Thondrar made only a very weak attempt at breaking away, at escaping this burning stare. His still very worried eyes grazed over Tarisilya for a moment who was staring at him as if she'd never seen him before – again.

That was when he ceased his resistance, lowering his head. "I don't know how …" But it sounded as if at the bottom of his heart, he did know.

And Elrond didn't give him any more chance to keep running than Tarisilya. "You have, in fact, known for a long time, because you feared being touched by exactly this strength all your life. The time of hiding is over. Raise your voice, son of Gondolin."

The last of these words, Tarisilya heard only very quietly, as if filtered through cotton, because of the worst contraction so far. With a piercing scream, she spasmed forward; another kick of her scared unborn felt as if her back was breaking in two. She hardly even realized that Aragorn had sat down next to her, that her nightgown was being pushed up and rough hands were feeling her swollen belly. The same whispered words in Sindarin that she usually used to calm patients herself were hardly reaching her ears.

The fear filling her soul immediately again so cruelly intensively, drowned out everything. Maybe it would be faster than she'd thought. Maybe she would soon be bleeding so badly that delivery couldn't even happen, that they would only be able to get the baby from her dying body with a knife … She would never be able to see it, not even allowed to enter the Halls with the certainty that her child would live, that it was healthy … Or tell her husband that she loved him once more …

Someone was singing.

First, she thought it to be Aragorn, but his voice, she knew, just like the Lord's … No, this was a voice she had never heard before, clear like the mountain streams of Imladris, strong like the wood of Eryn Lasgalen, elegant as even the last falling golden leaf of Lórien still was.

The voice sang about the first that had opened their eyes back then and had spotted the beauty of the stars. It sang about the ones who had passed even the worst trials in the light of the Valar and had found their way back to their calling of making the world a better place again and again.

It sang about the Difference and the Watcher, and that was when Tarisilya's eyes closed almost on their own accord. A tender smile was on her lips as she gave in to the soothing images that these words painted in her mind, some of them described in Quenya of which she couldn't understand much … But it was enough to see in her mind's eye the first of the elves in their undimmed innocence, how they had grown more and more, fighting the fate of life that would always try to destroy itself at some point. She saw the golden light of the first Difference that made the first Watcher by their side strong so that the suffering and how it could be ended would never be forgotten. So that the ones who came after them would always find their way back to peace, too.

She saw herself, dancing and laughing in the pale light of her star when the world had still been good and new while the one who would become her very own personal Difference, turned away from the sun to grieve for his mother with the hate of thunderstorms in his bright blue eyes.

She saw the burning eye trying to destroy all life and the innocence of two naïve halflings who had no idea that the world was evil and merciless and that fate couldn't be fought which was maybe the reason why they just did it.

She saw.

She was alive.

She could feel. Every single second, every word, every memory of her life and of the one of someone else that was not hers and that was yet inseparably connected to hers as of late.

A pleasant heaviness that she couldn't even have fought if she'd wanted to had seized her body, as if she was about to blackout, but her mind was completely clear. It had just decided that a different place was much better for her to be right now. In spite of the blood loss that she noticed thanks to nausea and dizziness every now and then, becoming more and more significant, she wasn't being cold. On the contrary, she felt warm and secure as she usually did only in her husband's arms.

There were hardly any words she could hear at this point. Only when she occasionally opened her eyes, sluggishly, she could read the most necessary instructions on the Lord's tense, narrow lips and somehow managed to make her muscles do what they were supposed to do before she let her fall into this nothingness again. The part of her brain still awake understood that she had fallen into trance, had been taken by the pure power of melodies of whole Ages, but these rational considerations weren't loud enough to make her doubt something once again that just couldn't be bad, no matter how overwhelming as it was.

Tarisilya hadn't been able to breathe so deeply since her father and her brother had left her.

At some point, her eyes fell close at last; and now, she couldn't open them anymore, no matter how hard she tried. There were still these lovely sounds, right by her ear now, very quietly … She felt a well-known, strong touch that she had grown very fond of in the last few weeks already, of a single remaining functioning arm around her upper body that helped her straighten up because she didn't have the strength to do it herself anymore …

Suddenly, an enormous jolt, a scream from her sore throat that had long stopped being able to produce sounds. Something in her body was about to break. She felt it clearly, more awake than at any point in the last few hours. There … another skilled, supportive touch. This time it was the Lord, lending her protesting muscles a last grain of energy once more, pushing her body just a little bit further past the limits of his resilience.

Then she fell back in Thondrar's arms. Her senses waned.

It was only the quiet, fine crying of a baby tearing her away from the threatening blackness before her eyes. When she blinked arduously, it was no longer Thondrar holding her tightly in his arms but Legolas, who had tears freely running down his cheeks. And on her bare belly, still painted red and white from the surroundings it had just been torn from, lay a tiny naked being that looked up at her with Legolas' big ocean blue eyes and was crying quieter immediately when their gaze met. Then the boy went completely silent when Tarisilya gasped his name with her almost useless voice.

At no point had she been sure which direction even to choose. But now that Tarisilya was allowed to see her perfectly healthy little son for the first time, this beautiful, strong being that she did already love more than her own life and that had just given her hers back … Suddenly, there was no doubt about what the boy could only be called. "Cyron ..."

As if her voice had disturbed him in his silent awe, she heard Legolas sob quietly. His hand came to rest on Cyron's back so carefully as if he could hurt the baby.

With a lot of effort, Tarisilya managed to put her hand on his, in spite of her exhaustion, caressing her son's flawless skin between his fingertips. She nuzzled against her husband, crying away, too, but with a happy smile. "It's over, elwen. Everything is alright now."

And there was first and foremost one elf, she had that to thank for. She weakly turned her head, her eyes searching the room, and saw without much surprise that Thondrar wanted to sneak to the door in secret while Elrond was already busy with new healing potions, while Arwen on that small sofa over there slept in exhaustion and Ioreth was getting a couple of new cloths.

"Stay. Please."

"But this is your first time together, Ilya." Thondrar turned around visibly indecisively, awkwardly tightening his shoulders. His hardly even audible voice revealed quickly that he must indeed have sung for her the whole night; outside, the sun was rising already. "This is so important … I don't want to disturb you."

"Thondrar." Tarisilya let out something between a laugh and a new sob.

"Without your help … The help of all of you …" She took a long, respectful moment to nod at the Lord, too, and was relieved when he returned the gesture, obviously not resenting her for her temper last night. She would also have a few words to say to Aragorn later who had apparently been called back to his duties.

"… but especially without you, Thondrar, we wouldn't even have this time now. Your voice guided me through the darkness when I thought, I could never see the light again. Come here before I get mad."

Now Legolas seemed to understand, too, what had happened here earlier. They had probably not caught much of that in the hall outside.

After another endlessly loving look at the baby, he went to meet Thondrar and grabbed his arms with both hands. "I'm in your debt more than ever. It would be my honor if you used your attentive eye and your strong hand now to protect my son just as much as my wife, whenever I cannot. Just like my own endeavor from now shall not only be my King's wellbeing but also the one of the last son of Gondolin."

Thondrar straightened up visibly. "I do not belong to Gondolin, Legolas. At least not only to Gondolin. I belong to Ithilien. To Imladris. To Middle-earth. To Aman. Everywhere and nowhere. But thanks to your wife, I have finally found what has been missing from me all my life. My roots, the missing part of my origin. And they are the same as Ilya's. Our lives are inseparably connected. And as long as the Valar will allow me to walk these realms, I will do what I can to keep her and her family from being harmed ever again."

Instead of answering, Legolas wrapped his arms around Thondrar for a brief but endlessly important moment. Even though they'd actually exchanged similar words just a short while ago, Tarisilya only now felt as if Thondrar had really started to be part of her family.

"In that case, I will gladly repeat my wife's wish. Your place is by our side, now more than ever. And after yesterday's events, the night is still restless. It would be a big relief for both of us if you stayed with our son while the healers take care of him. Then I can remain by Ilya's side in the meantime."

"I'd love to, Your Hi… Forgive me. Force of habit."

Thondrar went to Ioreth with a laugh who had taken the baby by now to submit it to a first superficial cleaning. "Come on, little guy, let's leave your parents alone for a few minutes. You really need a bath."

Cyron grimaced for a moment, waving his little hands, still quite uncoordinated, and promptly caught hold of one of Thondrar's long strands of hair that were slightly messy as usual, glowing golden in the morning sun falling in at the window. He pulled on it in delight, as firmly as he could already.

Thondrar didn't seem to mind. The love for the baby in his eyes, almost as big as the one Tarisilya had just seen in Legolas' tearful expression, chased away even the last darkness in her heart.

Before the servant that had joined them in the meantime was even halfway done, fighting the worst chaos of bloody clothes and medicine no longer needed, before Elrond had even managed to shake his daughter awake, someone knocked on the bedroom door in agitation.

It was Aragorn joining them again, with a broad smile on his lips. Without a doubt, he'd spotted Ioreth and Thondrar in the hallway. But the reason for his visit was a clunky item in his arms, hastily wrapped in a black cloth.

"Ilya, ada, Legolas … I thought I better get this into the right hands immediately before the audience is waiting for me. It was found in Hithrim's chambers."

Trembling, Elrond closed his hands around the book that Tarisilya, too, had recognized immediately without even having to see the title.

Arwen who had finally managed to claw her way out of sleep, also looked up at her father with big eyes, her lips tight.

The poison. The recipes that had almost destroyed so much. Finally, this damn thing would be put back in one of the tightly locked cabinets of Elrond's library …

Or maybe not. Elrond carefully put the book down on the dresser and slowly turned around to Tarisilya once more. "Keep it safe until you feel well enough to work again. Copy all the pages with antidotes, in case you're having trouble at some point with recipes again that possibly got into the wrong hands in the last few months. And then throw the book into the fire."

"Are you sure?" Tarisilya had seldom been so speechless. That was an unbelievably big act of faith that she wouldn't have expected, especially not after the fight last night.

"I couldn't think of anyone better to keep such secrets." Elrond just turned his head towards Aragorn for a moment, to make sure, his foster son supported said way to safeguard the book.

"It is decided then. Come on, that was enough excitement for a new mother."

"Aragorn ... Just a moment."

Legolas, after another affectionate kiss on her temple, left Tarisilya alone once more for a moment to tell the King something that must have been lost in all the excitement of the last few hours. And even now, her husband was visibly overwhelmed with even beginning to express how grateful he too had been not only for Elrond's, but also for Aragorn's assistance that night.

Aragorn took his friend by the shoulder with a dismissive shake of his head, a hint of a bad conscience on his exhausted features that was no doubt due to the last disagreements of the Stewardaides Crisis that would hopefully finally be forgotten after today at the latest. "Last time I couldn't be there in time. I couldn't let that happen again. I know there is nothing that can ever undo your loss of back then, Legolas. Please forgive my clumsy words a few weeks ago in that regard. But I hope that you can both look to the future together now. All of us together. We have made things difficult for each other long enough."

"I wish that very much, mellon." With a hint of a deep, grateful bow, Legolas left the King to his duties.

As soon as they were alone, Tarisilya closed her eyes in relief and nestled against her husband once he'd cautiously lay down beside her, with a tender kiss on her lips.

Finally, she could rest.