In spite of all efforts, Arwen didn't make it to catch up with Aragorn again. Due to sudden chaos and given that her status at the court was not being traditionally legalized yet, the soldiers were obviously forgetting again already that actually, she would have belonged by the side of the freshly crowned King, especially in times of crisis.

And Aragorn himself probably hoped that she would remain in the protection of her kin's representatives for rational reasons. Even after all this time, he apparently still didn't know her well enough.

Arwen had never let overly worried family stop her when she had known beloved beings to be in danger. And right now, the horse was that her father had given to her at her departure from Imladris, to accompany her in her new life in Gondor. A very young, playful stallion that she had become very fond of on the journey and without whom she would not have survived the battle against those Uruk-hai at the Gap. Without large silhouettes in armor surrounding her, she just had to try to find her way to the stables herself. Her dress skirt made it harder to proceed though since several persons stepped on the fabric; more than once, Arwen almost tripped. The high-heeled shoes just made it worse.

Thanks to the jam, she earned a few painful jabs in her side that she ignored with gritted teeth. Her eyes were sternly fixed on the growing billows of smoke. One could already notice the smell of charcoaled wood and burning straw from here. Not only Alagas, but Brego was also down there … She couldn't let anything happen to them …

At least there was the sound of panicking horses quickly departing reaching her ear now. So a few of them had managed to flee. From the distance, Arwen could also see that only a comparatively small part of the building complex had been torched, but with old, ramshackle material, that could easily suffice to destroy everything. And the source of the fire was located right inside the spacious wing that the animals of the King and the royal household had been placed in. The gate on the one side was firmly locked, the way to the other barred by flames. The animals in there were still trapped, and surely not accidentally.

Arwen's anger towards Aragorn's ominous enemies – and who else should be responsible for this? – was only growing when two very well-known voices revealed that it was indeed only Brego and Alagas left in the stable. The other horses seemed to be either on the paddocks or had been freed. The soldiers would have quite a hard time capturing the animals, but she couldn't care about that right now.

Pushing the last bystanders out of the way, she ran towards the fire.

Aragorn who was already there just quickly made certain that Faramir would arrange everything necessary for the fire to be put out and followed her then. He tried to hold her back by her arm in vain, remarking that unlike him, she wasn't wearing any protective clothing. Which, while correct, was completely irrelevant right now. Arwen just tore away from him, so he had no choice but to run after her.

When they approached a side entrance that was usually always locked, they realized that it had apparently been forced open with raw violence to ensure an additional exit route. Wondering who of the people had been so valiant, Arwen stopped abruptly, because the person coming her way was the last she'd expected at this moment. In spite of his hair having been preventively, firmly tied back, the hood of a coat – probably borrowed from some groom in a hurry – being pulled low over his face, and his similarly protective hunched posture, she recognized Legolas immediately.

"How did you get here?" Aragorn paused in confusion as well.

A suppressed cough was all he got for an answer, but the question became completely unimportant anyway when they spotted the silhouette of a child under Legolas' cloak.

"Any more people left in there?" His eyes wide with fright, Aragorn stopped Legolas by grabbing his shoulder before he could hurry past him.

Again, the answer was a silent one, a jerky shake of Legolas' head, accompanied by further coughing. Legolas managed to get as far as to the group of people a few feet from the building before the effects of the smoke and of a few light burns on arms and legs forced him to his knees.

The bystanders were taking care of him and especially the child, as a quick look back over her shoulder told Arwen. Someone had already sent for healers anyway. This, they had to help with later. For now, they needed to find a way to free the horses without being taken out just as quickly as Legolas. The soldiers were already busy breaking through the front gate, but that would take time.

Driven by a heartbreaking neigh from inside the stable, Arwen overcame her last hesitation. They had to act. It wouldn't take long now before the roof would collapse. Aragorn tried to grab her once more, but she just dashed off, without thinking about it, some curses quite indecent for a King following her.

Getting inside turned out to be surprisingly easy, but upon reaching the aisle between the stalls, Arwen found herself between ever-growing heat and beams cracking so loudly, it threatened to rob her of her hearing. The dark smoke of straw probably soaked in water on purpose didn't allow for much vision and irritated the lungs so much that Arwen had to cough badly. Sparks from falling splinters smoldered on her dress. Hectically slapping them out, she tried to get to Brego's and Alagas' stalls, following the blurred shapes of the rearing animals.

Another shadow breaking through the orange glow came up next to her. She needed a moment to recognize Aragorn. Like Legolas had earlier, he had wrapped himself in a cloak that he somehow must have wetted before. A second piece that he'd brought, he put around Arwen's body, still scolding her.

A loud noise had them both startle.

Brego had somehow managed to open his stall and half push the door open, half smash it, the same trick he usually was annoying the grooms with and that probably saved his life today. His natural fear of the dangerous element wanted to chase him outside immediately. When he spotted Aragorn and Arwen though, he flinched in panic as he couldn't identify them right away.

This time, they started to run at the same time, with Arwen being headed for the stall that she could still hear Alagas neighing in, highly frightened.

Aragorn on the other hand was shouting quiet, soothing words in Sindarin to his horse, the way they both had already learned it as adolescents from Elrond for situations like this.

It helped now, too. Though the animal was still completely distraught, it allowed Aragorn to grab its halter and trotted through the gate that was finally standing open by his side, so quickly in spite of being visibly in pain that only its fur got scorched a little more than it already was in a few places.

With much effort and by suffering one or two minor burns in her palm, Arwen got the stall door open that had already caught fire. Alagas stormed towards her immediately. At the last second, she managed to take his halter, not without being kicked by the animal that was anguished by pain as well. The horse rather pulled her outside than let her lead it; but then the young stallion and Arwen, too, broke through the wall of smoke almost impenetrable by now.

Aragorn waited just long enough for someone to take the horses off their hands, then he carefully grabbed Arwen's shoulders. Worriedly, he eyed her sooty skin, the burn marks littering her dress, the bruises and the abrasions on her shin, and her – fortunately not too bad – hand injury.

Despite his own cough, he must be able to clearly hear hers. "By the Valar, are you insane? You can't run towards such danger without armor. Do you even realize what could have happened to you?"

"Not to worry. I'm too far enough removed from any High King of the Noldor on my family tree for a dramatic death by fire."

Since her lame attempt to ease the situation earned her just a scathing glance from Aragorn, Arwen squeezed his hand in apology, but then gently pushed him away, as it wasn't advisable that the numerous spectators saw their new King to so upset regarding his partner alone. A sensitive King was a vulnerable King, and that was the last impression Aragorn was allowed to radiate right now. "The boy, mîl nín …"

A still slightly distorted but definitely proud smile curled on Aragorn's lips. Thinking about everyone around them first, on principal, especially about innocents and civilians, before caring for their own condition, had always connected them. After a quick kiss to her healthy hand, he headed for the place where Legolas had collapsed earlier.

The sight of the child was even far worse than the one of the wounded horses. Especially since Aragorn had met the little boy in the past few days already and grown fond of him. He belonged with one of the grooms, being just as crazy for horses as his father, and was always hanging about in the stables. Aragorn wouldn't have recognized him though. Little Ninor's upper body and face were heavily burned.

Aragorn realized that his anger would need an outlet soon. All these rebels were well advised to not cross his way before he had a chance to blow off some steam. Or there would probably be a scandal because the King performed a execution of one of his own people. The way of proceeding left no doubt that these people had actually meant only to harm him, but the result of this unscrupulousness was laying before him on the burned grass, and might never recover from these wounds.

A silly, small part of him hoped this incident might bring the rebels back to their senses, but the warrior in him who had been at the front line in many battles knew better. With such people, it took more than an injured child – or a dead one – for that.

The healer on-site was indeed already about to discontinue his efforts. Disheartened, he looked up to Aragorn. "I'm afraid, it is futile."

"You shouldn't give up so easily. Do you want to tell his parents later, you didn't try everything?" Suppressing the dizziness that the rescue quest had left, Aragorn sat down next to the child to take over from the healer.

"Do you need help, Your Majesty?" a very well-known voice behind him asked quietly.

After the surprising meeting in the flames, Aragorn didn't have more than a relieved smile to spare for Tarisilya's appearance. He should have known better. As if she would seriously have let Legolas ride back to Gondor alone. "It definitely can't hurt if it's yours. Let's take him to the Houses of Healing. The odds really are bad."

"I'm right behind you."

With visible reluctance, Tarisilya gave the tall, grey stallion that Éomer had recently provided her with, to one of the few grooms not busy with capturing the horses. "Put him into a paddock please, within sight of the Citadel. The stable doesn't seem to be an awfully safe place right now," she instructed the young man slightly bitterly before turning to Legolas.

Only her ruffled appearance, with askew hair buns and a festive gown dirtied in a few spots, had Aragorn realize that Tarisilya hadn't been idle in the last minutes either. "He was already gone. Unfortunately, I don't know this city's secret paths. We saw a disguised man run away from the stable when we followed the smell of the fire," she explained at Aragorn's questioning glance.

"I tried to catch up with him to see where he's going or to make out his face at least, but I was too late."

"We'll find him. These people won't stay hidden for long anymore. Come on now. These criminals are not worth it, wasting time on them." Hate darkened Aragorn's voice.

The same people who had been so enthusiastic earlier, now recoiled from his dark expression when he left the scene with the unconscious child in his arms.

The residents stayed back in the streets in silent terror about this cruel end of a beautiful celebration.

Arwen's wounds had quickly been taken care of, so she grabbed the opportunity right afterward to personally visit the room in the Houses of Healing where little Ninor was being treated.

Several bystanders were waiting outside the door who weren't being allowed inside. Next to them, a middle-aged mannish couple; their face being snow-white. The woman was crying, the man looked rigid with fear. Ninor's parents.

Arwen didn't expect special treatment and already turned to leave when the caregiver guarding the door suddenly waved at her. "Her Highness of Eryn Lasgalen would like to see you, Lady Arwen."

Arwen raised an eyebrow in surprise.

When Tarisilya had last met Gondorian healers, she had been the one being treated, literally being on the brink of death. That word had got around so quickly about who she was, and that her instructions were being followed without any objection, meant she must have impressed people pretty deeply today.

Upon entering the room, Arwen quickly understood why.

Aragorn was nowhere to be seen, he seemed to be in the Citadel already, together with his team of advisors, to take measures regarding the attack. He had trustingly left the child in the hands of a healer who was known for her extraordinary abilities in elvish circles, much like Arwen's father and her brothers were.

And the decision had been right; in any case, the child was alive.

Still, seeing the little one like this was depressing. All the bandages covering his body … And how he was thrashing about in pain again and again, in spite of his unconsciousness, no matter how often the other, elderly healer in the room – whom Arwen remembered from her own stay in the sick tent of Cair Andros back then – placed cooling cloths on his wounds ...

"He will be disfigured all his life. If he even still wants to live." Tarisilya was sitting on the edge of the bed with her hand resting on Ninor's forehead, trying to ease his suffering with her powers.

Her own condition was still lousy enough, sadly. Judging by how much her voice was trembling right now, she didn't even remotely have the distance to her patient that protected healers from wounds in their souls. She almost bore a little similarity to the shadow of an elf that she'd used to be shortly after the war, in skin tone alone. What she had been afraid of after this tragedy in Rohan, that her healing abilities would be limited after killing a being for the very first time, still didn't seem to be the case. Therefore, she truly might have been the only one in this city who could have helped the boy until now. But the process had exhausted her and deepened wounds that hadn't healed yet after she had lost a child so shortly ago – and that hadn't been a patient.

"You did all you could." Arwen came to stand beside her. "The other healers didn't even give him a chance. I'm sure he'll be grateful. It won't be easy for him, but life is much too precious to give it up on a whim." She carefully tried to pull Tarisilya to her feet.

"Come on, you look tired. What still needs to be taken care of now, the others can do. You need to rest, Ilya, especially after your mad rush here, or you won't be of any use to patients. How did you even do that anyway?"

"When the message about the coronation reached the temporary fortress, we just couldn't wait anymore. We will find the loneliness we are yearning for in Ithilien, once the pillars of the new elf settlement will be built there. But right now … right now I need to keep busy, I think."

Tarisilya finally took her eyes off of the boy, staring down at her hands. "Once you were gone, Legolas and I tried. In vain. So shortly after the war, neither of us is stable enough to face what happened. It will do us better to make ourselves useful for a while. Here, for example. Which is actually why I wanted you to come here, so I can look out for you." With a weak smile, Tarisilya eyed Arwen's admittedly also dubious appearance, her bandages.

"But I see, they've been taking good care of you. And you're right once more. Ioreth, can you do without me here for a few hours?"

The slightly chubby, grey-haired woman hardly looked up from what she was doing. An offended snort on her lips let the two she-elves know what she thought about someone questioning her abilities. "I have for a few decades already, Your Highness. I thank you for your support, but the King's partner seems to be a little wiser than you. Go, it's alright. I know where to send for you, in case it gets worse."

"I will be waiting."

Tarisilya said farewell to her patient with a kiss to his forehead – one of the few non-burned spots of his face – and accompanied Arwen outside.

Ninor's father immediately rushed up to her and showered her with questions.

After repeating what she had told Arwen, Tarisilya next gently prepared him and his wife for Ninor possibly becoming blind on top of everything else.

"We'll know when he wakes up." She took the hands of the woman who seemed miles away. "For now, it's better for him to sleep. Sit by his bedside, talk to him; that helps him. I will visit you as often as I can."

A small glimmer of hope lightened the man's dark eyes. He clawed Tarisilya's shoulders. "You have to help him … He can't die."

"I will do whatever I can so he won't." Tarisilya stepped away slowly and put the man's arm around the hunched shoulders of his wife who was in much bigger need of such a touch. "I can't guarantee anything yet, but he's a tough little cookie. He'll be better soon."

"Thank the Valar." Ninor's father closed his eyes in relief. "How can I ever thank you, Your Highness? Will you stay here in Minas Tirith from now on? The Men of Gondor need your abilities."

"I will be there whenever it is possible."

Tarisilya wasn't ready to make any more commitments, but on their way out, Arwen noticed how she was nodding at some healers and seemed, indeed, to feel a little bit at home in this building already.

"This is not how I thought this day would go," she finally murmured.

"I don't think anybody did." Arwen sighed heavily, trying to ignore the itch and tingling in her palm. "Everything's been so perfect earlier … Why are Men doing these things? We finally had peace, and now they are causing suffering themselves?" With a dismissive gestured, she let her friend know, she didn't expect an answer. It would without a doubt have been shaped by more cynicism than Arwen could deal with right now. For better or for worse, this was Arwen's world now, too, for the rest of her life, including all the downsides.

The mood was sour enough. Just like on her way to the Houses of Healing, Arwen was exposed to many critical glances outside. The spectators probably hadn't failed to notice that Aragorn had run into the burning stable mostly because of her. The news of his open affection at the coronation earlier had surely already spread in the city as well.

In spite of her decision against her immortality, Arwen's hearing hadn't become bad enough to miss some scraps of conversation that would cause Aragorn even more worry. Whoever had committed this attack had reached his goal: People were questioning the city's and the King's safety.

Tarisilya pulled her cloak tighter as if she was starting to freeze under that kind of surveillance as well. "Lady Galadriel knew something was wrong here. When we said good-bye, she warned Legolas that he didn't choose the safest area for the settlement. Which is probably exactly why he is being drawn here. Somehow, he never makes it to stay out of trouble. It's just me whom he'd love to leave under the protection of Lórien until the first houses and telain are finished, though the golden trees have lost all of their magic since Sauron's fall."

Tarisilya's full, pretty lips turned into a hard line. "He doesn't understand that not even Lady Galadriel's and Lord Celeborn's friendship could soothe the grief of a dying elven realm. I'm glad you're here, Arwen. His Majesty insists that the court will provide me with a few things, in appreciation of the support for the little one. And it's not like I'm in a position to the decline the offer."

Of course. Before changing her decision about sailing into the west for the moment, Tarisilya's had meant to leave her own clothes behind on Middle-earth. They were all in exactly the place she didn't want to enter right now. In that regard, Arwen and she were in the same boat, as often happened. "So until Lady Galadriel can have someone bring to me whatever is left of my cabinet, I'll definitely be here."

"You don't know how happy that makes me. I haven't really settled here myself yet."

The conversation was interrupted when they entered the Citadel. Arwen could hardly bite back a grin when she saw Tarisilya's embarrassed grimace about everyone they were passing by bowing to her. Being a Princess suddenly did have its disadvantages, too.

When another, brightly clothed elf on the stairs to the White Tower, who was talking to someone inside, paused mid-sentence upon hearing Arwen's voice in the distance and turned around to her with a loving smile, they accelerated their steps.

Arwen hurried to show the implied bow was required even towards family members in a place defined so much by etiquette like the Citadel. "Ada …"

"Forgive me, Arwen, I've been meaning to visit you for days. And it also warms my heart to see you again, Princess."

Elrond showed the hint of a bow as well. "Your husband is still in a conference with His Majesty, but I would welcome a conversation with the two of you later. Since your departure, your plans in North Ithilien have made a circuit in Imladris more and more. Elves from our realm haven't just come here for the coronation in the last few days, but also to learn more about all this."

The yearning for something in the no longer far distant future marked Elrond's pointed features. "In Imladris, there will soon be just as little left to keep our kin there as in Lórien. Those who are not ready for their journey into the west yet, are happy about the possibility you mean to offer."

"That's exactly why we're here, milord." Arwen watched amused how Tarisilya had her hands on her skirt already, pulling them back in the last moment, remembering that she didn't have to show the curtsy anymore that had been so obligatory towards a high ranking personality like Elrond in the past.

"After today's scare, the gathering of a small circle will have a reviving effect on all of us. His Majesty and Prince Faramir as the new ruler in Ithilien should be consulted as well."

"I will arrange for everything. Many more long hours are ahead of us. Ahead of all of us."

Elrond turned to his conversation partner from earlier and ordered him with audible annoyance to stop keep hanging around in the shadow of the door.

"I suppose you still remember the head of my advisor council whom I'm providing the King with for the time of the upcoming storm."

"Your memory serves you right, milord."

Tarisilya suddenly sounded so dismissive that Arwen shook her head in her friend's direction, almost imperceptibly, fighting her own surprise about this development, and took her eyes off of the tall, very pale, black-haired elf. While Arwen hadn't had the closest relationship with Elrond's grumpy advisor herself in the last few centuries anymore, and even more ugly things had happened between him and Tarisilya, the two of them should actually be grown-up enough to leave that behind them.

Elrond hadn't mentioned to her with even one word that he wanted to do without his librarian for some time to help Men with their initial problems regarding Aragorn's still so young reign, but it was definitely a good decision. As one of the last survivors of the long-fallen Gondolin on Middle-earth, the eccentric loner was just as intelligent as experienced. His pragmatic, analytic mind might be exactly what this dangerous situation needed.

"Ilya." But Erestor didn't seem overly enthusiastic about this meeting either that he'd tried to avoid for a reason. Probably the same reason why he'd made himself completely invisible for days at Legolas' and Tarisilya's wedding already. His deep, smoky voice rather revealed tiredness and old bitterness though, not blatant irritation like Tarisilya's. "It has been long."

Something about this simple sentence had Tarisilya's tense nerves fail her for good. "Not long enough." Now her tone was bursting ice. Abruptly, she turned away and hurried to the King's guest house.

"Resolve this," Elrond ordered Erestor.

"I have tried as you might remember. More than once."

Elrond stopped Erestor, with his arm braced against the doorframe when he wanted to follow Tarisilya with a short shrug anyway. "Not now. But make sure, your stay here doesn't cause more trouble than benefit, just because two immature children still can't look each other in the eye, centuries later."

Arwen almost expected to see Erestor shoot flashes from his dark eyes at that respectless description. But he nodded, arduously composed, and said good-bye to join a small group of other elves in the courtyard whose serious faces implied, they were talking about today's events.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Finally, we've got a few minutes for ourselves." Elrond's glance wandered over Arwen's body so searchingly that she immediately felt like an elfling again. "I didn't expect to see the new King's partner in scorched clothes when we met next."

"Not my fault that some men couldn't help but light a bonfire to celebrate the coronation." Arwen just couldn't bite back her sarcasm.

"I'm very glad you're here. Estel will need your support and your council more than ever right now."

She hadn't missed the inquiring tone in Elrond's voice though that promised another conversation about Aragorn and her that she actually didn't want to have in the foreseeable future. Not at all if she had the choice. After these events, she didn't feel strong enough for further lectures and warnings. "I'll just go see about the horses for a moment, alright? Brego and Alagoas urgently need care and treatment for their injuries. I don't want them to suffer longer than necessary. Give me another half an hour."

Elrond wasn't pleased but dismissed her without resistance. Arwen could have sworn to see a proud little smile on his lips because she now had made friends with the stallion after all that her father had pushed on her for so long already. "Call me if they need an additional healer."

And then again, sometimes, it took only a single sentence to wipe out all misunderstandings between them. Arwen allowed herself a short, firm embrace in the shadow of the entrance and then retreated to at least start recollect herself.