The war hadn't just cost many soldiers their lives but in some cases had wiped out whole families. After Sauron's attack on the city, more than one house in Minas Tirith was empty. One day, people would learn to live with the pain that the sight of lonely rooms and belongings of the diseased were causing, and dare to start over in these accommodations. A few families that the battles had made homeless, had actually been forced to make this step already. Other buildings transitionally had to replace destroyed public facilities. Therefore, the number of deserted structures gradually dwindled. Even people who'd been living in Minas Tirith for decades, had a hard time right now, knowing who was staying where.
It was, fortunately, a little easier for Aragorn to find the person that Faramir had referred him to after a conversation just as short as honest had had both of them see that Éowyn wasn't very suitable as Arwen's support after all.
No matter how much Faramir loved that woman already, even he had had to admit through clenched teeth, her erratic Rohiril temper wasn't a fit for Arwen's thoughtful nature. And while he'd already had a suggestion for a replacement in mind, that one came with a catch.
The young woman Faramir had used to play with as a child outside the city gates, was one of the many who had lost everyone dear to her in the war. She had retired to exactly one of these abandoned houses, not even leaving it on the occasion of the coronation. She hadn't even wanted to see Faramir when he had gone to see her, to get her back into her former job as a court lady.
But a visit by the King personally, the woman couldn't ignore. After a short discussion through the closed door, several not too ladylike curses, some noise from inside that spoke of a hasty tidying up and a short rushing of water, the woman welcomed Aragorn in a very threadbare but at least clean dress, her dark curls damp. Given how gaunt she was, it was a miracle, she wasn't stumbling right into his arms. The look in her dark doe eyes was broken.
Behind the young woman, a chaos of half-destroyed furniture and dusty windows was unfolding. Badly hidden in a dark corner, sloppily folded clothes were being piled, and toys telling stories of children who would never play with them again.
"Your Majesty, forgive me. I didn't expect you here. After all, I've given up my court duties a while ago already. What can I do for you?"
Reaching out his hand for the young woman, Aragorn put it on a bony shoulder, with a compassionate, slow headshake. He looked deeply into her eyes until she started to shake badly and broke into quiet sobs that her soul didn't even have any strength left for, after having long cried herself empty.
"Come home with me. There's a new purpose waiting for you. I need you in the Citadel."
"Why me?" She tried in vain to break away. A last trace of defiance was still in her, the determination to keep on hiding in her depression, waiting to starve. But Aragorn also thought to see a tiny glimmer of hope through the veil of her tears. A will to fight that not even all her losses could have taken from her. Faramir had been right.
"I'm just a simple maid. You'll find someone like me on every corner of the street. My life is worth nothing, Your Majesty."
"Every single being is worth something," Aragorn objected, just closing his hand tighter around her collarbone that felt like it would soon break in two.
The woman would need some care herself first before she would be able to look out for others. But he knew his beloved well enough to suspect that the two of them would be good for each other in the long run.
"And you still have friends who know your value perfectly well. Pack your things. I'll wait for you outside. Hurry up. Life has missed you, Ranír."
"You know my name?" she whispered in shock, still completely blindsided.
"Soon I will not be the only one at the court who does. Come now."
Since most elves had departed again, unable to witness Faramir's wedding for a lack of time, the time after the coronation was gloomier for Arwen than any she could remember before, in spite of her father visiting her daily and them having all their meals together, in spite of them having maybe more conversations than in the last few years altogether. Most of them in the language of Men so that Elrond could help her improve her already rich vocabulary further, without making it feel like dull teachings.
But just as Aragorn had feared: Him, she didn't get to see, despite of her standing at the court being much more official now. He spent most of his time having discussions with his advisors in the White Tower and was seldom seen. Mostly in the late evening, being on his way to his chambers, visibly completely overwhelmed.
For now, Arwen didn't happen to meet Tarisilya either. The one time she visited the chambers in the guest house of the King that Legolas and his wife had been placed in, Arwen quickly fled again upon hearing voices from inside. She was in no mood to get caught in a vivid argument between newlyweds. Especially when it obviously revolved around a certain black-clad elf with an always very somber stare, who in the few overheard scraps of conversation was described by Tarisilya as being "not of a sane mind". Politely phrased.
So when she wasn't with her father, she spent most of her time in the stable since no one except for the tailor and her valet cared about her anyway. And at that, without really noticing consciously, she daily got closer to the animal that had seemed so strange to her in the beginning.
Alagas knew exactly that she had now saved his life in return and didn't act half as boisterous towards her anymore. He tenderly nibbled at Arwen's hair when she carefully spread a new layer of healing ointment on his wounds instead of pinching her disgruntledly, and trustingly rested his head on her shoulder when she massaged his tense muscles instead of prancing out of reach.
And when she leaned against his stall door for too long, staring away in frustration, as on the evening before her next big challenge, he reminded her with a vigorous swat on the nose that moping had never made anything better. And that changes as big as the ones in her life right now, just demanded a little patience.
"Easy for you to say." Sighing, Arwen caressed her companion's narrow, straight head, nuzzling her cheek against his velvet nostril. "You didn't have enemies here before you even arrived."
Alagas brought his head down so unwillingly that he'd almost have rammed her, snapping at the fresh bandages on his skin.
Is that supposed to be funny?
Arwen understood the reproachful message even without speaking the language of horses and called herself to order. She tried her best to leave all her self-pity behind on her way back to the Citadel, so she could catch at least a few hours of restful sleep and would be able to present herself properly tomorrow.
Until the fanfares from the white walls announced the next major event then, she had indeed found at least part of her inner calmness again, not shying away so much from facing the next crowd any longer. After all, things had remained calm since that one uproar from a few dissatisfied citizens, and no one was treating her with hostility. Maybe this whole Stewardaides episode would be over as quickly as it had begun.
This time, the guests had gathered where once the White Tree of Gondor had bloomed in all its glory. First blossoms were slowly starting to grow on again since the last days of the war. As a symbol for the future and for everything that still needed to be done, this was where the unification of Gondor and Rohan through the marriage of two of their leaders should take place.
After the catastrophe at the coronation, all guards were on full alert. Far fewer citizens had been allowed inside the courtyard this time. The festivities' exact timeline was secret; except for a few insiders, most attendants didn't even know when things would get started. Additional men had been accepted into the guard under accelerated procedure who were keeping an eye on the Citadel and its surroundings.
Aragorn couldn't leave anything to chance anymore, and that was a responsibility he was unable to keep from his expression that had still been so happy not too long ago. A silver embroidered, dark blue tunic and snow-white breeches would hardly convey enough of a festive impression to make people forget the sight of his sword on his belt and a put on smile not his continual looking over the crowd. Verilas – who was Aragorn's second-highest-ranking advisor after Faramir – coming to his side nonstop to give him reports didn't help.
The tension dampened the guests' spirits as well. The excited murmurs from the coronation never came this time. People's faces were showing fear. After all, they had all heard Aragorn's acceptance speech. Everyone knew that his enemies didn't just want to ruin his reign but Gondor's good relationship with Rohan as well. Wondering what the King's enemies might come up with to prevent a wedding of such significance didn't allow for any real joy to emerge. Even the cheers when Faramir, clothed with his Steward robe, led his entirely bright yellow-and-white-clad bride out of the White Tower, sounded cautious.
All the more delightful it was that Faramir's wish regarding his old friend Mithrandir officiating the wedding was gladly granted by the wizard. With many hopeful words, he tried to make this actually so beautiful afternoon better for the bridal couple. Maybe it was also thanks to the powerful Ring Companion's presence being a lot more tangible today that the ceremony did indeed proceed without disturbances then.
In spite of the shadow upon the city, it was easy to see the happy glow in Faramir's eyes when Mithrandir finally gave his staff to Pippin who was already eagerly waiting by his side, just like at the coronation, and joined the two lovers' hands together.
Finally, it seemed to get through to Éowyn as well that no one would be able to endanger the newly growing peace between the realms anymore now. A broad smile turned her slightly rough features into a brilliant beam. A few people had had quiet doubts about the feelings of the daughter of Rohan for the Steward so far, as her relationship with him had developed so hastily in the Houses of Healing back then alone. But those were fading away now at the latest, when the two of them kissed intimately under the audience's applause.
Pippin and Merry who were both dressed up for their friends even fancier than at the coronation, with richly adorned, dark green and vibrant yellow tunics, were the first to approach them.
Pippin immediately took Faramir in a fierce hug, his eyes filled with tears of joy. A little inappropriate of course; like at every ceremony of this kind that Aragorn was being present for, that right was actually reserved for him. But no one, least of all Aragorn, begrudged one of the famous heroes of the War of the Ring for that, who had saved Faramir's life on top of that when Faramir's father had lost his mind for good.
After Éowyn had hugged both of the cheerful, cheeky hobbits close for a long moment too, she linked arms with her new husband and strode down the stairs with upright, confident steps, not lowering her head even once, walking towards Aragorn who congratulated them next. It was the first time since the war that Aragorn noticed not even a hint of irritation towards him in the young woman's face, that her smile caused no tense wrinkles it in anymore.
Though it hadn't been his fault, he had always felt very sorry for what had happened between them. All the more glad he was that Éowyn's love for Faramir had truly seized her still so young soul now. At this moment, she was clearly radiating that. And it would hopefully grow bigger every day.
After the members of Aragorn's advisor council had given the couple their best wishes as well, the lovers led the way to the celebration hall where a luxurious meal was waiting for the guests.
While the yard slowly emptied, Aragorn stayed back to wait for his guards once more reporting to him that there were no noticeable problems. When he happened to catch sight of Arwen in the distance, he paused. That he hadn't seen her since the fire was shameful enough. He wanted to make sure at least that nothing was wrong with her anymore.
Her roguish smile was relief enough. Aragorn allowed more warmth to fill his expression when he eyed her closely once more; her firmly laced corset dress – not as feathery as elvish robes but missing the overabundance of fabric the other court ladies' dresses were made of – and the many crystals that her hair had been loosely tied back with. With a slow nod, he acknowledged how much thought the tailor and she had already given to the most acceptable compromise between Arwen's own culture and Men's.
Arwen blushed noticeably. Against better knowledge, she wanted to approach Aragorn now after all.
But that was when Erestor came up next to him, murmuring warningly that Aragorn was drawing unwanted attention his way. "As far as the public is concerned, your full focus has to be on the bridal couple today, Your Majesty, no matter how difficult it is for you. Please remember that at such appearances, you are not standing here as your own person but as the personification of your reign. Private concerns have no place in that."
At these last words, Erestor's eyes glanced over Arwen so reprovingly that she turned away all by herself.
"I know. Thanks for your awareness." Aragorn couldn't suppress a short, yearning sigh. "Will you do me a favor anyway and tell Lady Arwen how enchanting she looks today?"
Erestor did his best to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat but failed miserably. "With all due respect, Your Majesty: If the Lady didn't just see that in your dreamy eyes, she's become blind, I'm afraid. Come on now, there's a celebration that you need to get started."
"I begin to understand why you have the reputation of a spoilsport in Imladris." Rolling his eyes, Aragorn hurried to follow Elrond's advisor into the hall.
Erestor was right, of course. As long as Arwen and he hadn't made the same promise to each other that his Steward had given his partner today, they had to hold back with expressions of affection in public far more than Aragorn had temporarily suppressed it at the coronation. The danger his enemies posed alone demanded that who wanted so badly to cast doubt among the people if their new King as a Dúnadan was even capable of acting according to century-old tradition. There was no need to add fuel to that fire.
Soon enough there would be nothing left to keep Arwen and him from spending their everyday life together. Until then, they just had to pull themselves together some.
Regarding this, in spite of all nitpicking, Aragorn was glad to have a voice of reason by his side.
The next morning Arwen's thoughts were still with Aragorn's behavior. At the celebration, it had almost seemed like he was avoiding her, given how hard he had been trying not to look her way across the tables. Feeling completely pushed aside in such a way hurt, in spite of all understanding for social conventions.
Not even in the early evening then, when the two of them had said good-bye to Arwen's father, and to King Éomer as well, who were being called back to their own realms by their duties, Aragorn had had more than a short caress on her arm to spare for her, inconspicuous for possible watchers at the gate of the ring, before they had gone back inside.
Though that would have produced a little scandal, Arwen would have wished more than anything for her beloved to come see her that night, to hold her when she had hidden tears about the anew separation from her family in her pillow. Though she would see her father a few more times before he would leave for the west at last, and though he had hinted at her twin brothers feeling not even remotely ready to go to Valinor yet, unlike Elrond himself … The growing distance to Imladris painfully squeezed Arwen's heart. And this loneliness wasn't going anywhere. Things in Gondor had to be put in order first, and the last stray groups of enemy in the west had to be defeated as well, before they could even think about wedding preparations or journeys again.
Searching for a distraction, she strolled at sunrise already to the remaining part of the stables where Brego and Alagas had been placed in until reconstruction would be finished. She didn't bother trading her simple silver grey dress for riding clothes; unlike in the last decades of continuous battle, she didn't buckle on her weapon's belt either – as she had actually always used to when she'd left her home –, since she only wanted to see to the horses for a few minutes.
Though Brego's and Alagas' injuries weren't as bad as initially feared, they were still strictly confined to their stalls to rest, which the two energetic animals hated deeply.
Alagas' burns still pained him and made him more petulant than it was in his nature, and Brego was lame in both forelegs because his chest was badly bruised from the escape.
When Arwen saw the two animals prancing restlessly in their stalls, she spontaneously grabbed two long ropes from a hook at the opposite wall and fastened then to the halters so she could take the horses outside with her. They were trotting so happily after her on the unexpected run that Arwen decided, she could ask it of them to take a walk outside the city.
She was surprised to meet hardly any guards on the way down. Were the men suffering the consequences from the boozy celebration that had lasted until late in the night? There were only two men standing at the main gate itself, too. Arwen wondered if Aragorn knew about this and decided to talk to him about it later. So shortly after the attack on the stables, he surely wouldn't approve of such a gap in observation.
The morning dew lay heavy on the grass at the foot of the wall that Arwen absent-mindedly led the horses along. Behind it, life still hadn't really woken up yet. At least for a short while, she could pretend to be home in her remote valley again, far from all worries of Men.
She was only pulled from her melancholy when Brego suddenly threw his fine head back, starting to yank on the rope, and Alagas wanted to run off unrestrainedly at the same moment. In Alagas' silhouette, taller than his fellow Mearh's, there was extremely much strength hidden; he actually almost made it.
"Easy, boy … Come on, everything's alright. Slow down there … That's right. Easy, mellon." First Arwen thought, their wounds were bothering the stallions again and talked to them in half-sung, insistent Sindarin words.
But certain unrest was now seizing her, too. It was too quiet down here. She had to hurry to get back. Something was wrong. Suddenly she felt it very clearly, like a cool breeze blowing through her mind that had been so lethargic a moment ago, that had her shudder inside.
She didn't make it further than two steps. An arrow in the ground, just an inch from her foot, had her startle back with a gasp. All paralyzing sadness was immediately replaced by full attention to her surroundings – too late.
Now the horses made it to break free after all; Alagas was first because Arwen's hand, still hurting because of her burns, didn't fully obey anymore. The ropes' rough surface ripped her skin further when the animals reared up, starting to prance around her after a couple of more arrows had made them all realize in a matter of seconds that there was no chance to flee.
No armor to protect her from the shelling, no shield, Arwen hadn't even brought a damn dagger, in spite of the dangerous events since their return. Wallowing in her offendedness regarding yesterday, she had completely let herself go, trusting the safety of a big city … As if she shouldn't know better after so many centuries. And now it was too late to regret that stupid mistake.
Arwen was already opening her mouth to alert the guards hopefully standing right on the other side of the wall with a warning shout.
"Not a word, she-elf!"
Before she could, she was being surrounded by half a dozen archers, their faces covered with dark cloths, who kept enough distance to the threateningly rearing animals to not risk being battered by hooves. Not having any protective metal on, Arwen couldn't risk one of the arrows aimed at her being let go of. She had no idea where the attackers had come from, the horses had blocked her sight. Actually, the men could only have left the city right after she had.
She had been so damn careless … Her hands curling into hard fists in growing anger, especially on herself, she retreated but was stopped abruptly.
One of the men had come up behind her, slipping through Brego and Alagas with a swift jump. He stumbled only shortly when Brego rammed him from the side, upset, but was back on his feet in time to put a dagger to Arwen's throat.
Her attempt to render the man harmless by a hard punch in his rips was rewarded with a cut so deep, so close to her artery that she gasped in alarm. These people were absolutely serious, whatever they were planning. And there weren't many possible options.
"Don't scream, my sweet pointy-ear, or it will be the last time," the stranger hissed.
He roughly shoved her towards one of his companions who had found a way to pass the now clearly calmer horses' bodies as well and welcomed Arwen with another dagger raised in warning, his free hand firmly grabbing her wrists.
The two highly intelligent animals seemed to have understood how much danger their companion was in and lapsed into especially loud neighing instead of continuing to try and take the men out. Unfortunately, Arwen had to doubt that one of the soldiers would understand that as a warning sign.
"Tie her up," the first man ordered harshly. "I'll prepare the message for our honored King."
The dirty laughter from all around was unsettling enough to start defending herself properly again after all. Arwen couldn't let these people take her. Even though she had no doubt that she would be able to free herself the first chance she got … Not only would Aragorn have to endure fearing for her life, and the folk would be thrown into turmoil again about the King being unable to beat off another of his enemies' attacks … Such a defeat would also really be a damn shame for Arwen's fighting abilities that she'd perfected for centuries.
More irritated by the second, she kicked the man in front of her in the kneecap and broke away, spinning around, out of the reach of his blade. With her elbow hitting the middle of his chest, she shoved another one of the guys to the ground. But before she could push through the gap opening up in the tight circle and maybe try to get onto Alagas' back, she felt deadly steel on her neck again. A kick to the back of her knee had her slump forward with a moan.
A moment that her enemies used to yank her arms behind her back and immobilize her wrists with rope. With her eyes wide open, she stared at the arrowheads once more aimed at her heart and writhed in disgust when a cloth was ruthlessly stuffed into her mouth.
The first guy that she easily recognized by his tall, sinewy shape grabbed her chin, a sleazy grin in his voice. "Now, now, birdy. If you're being good for us now, you might actually survive this day. It's all up to you." He laughed scornfully at the expression of growing wrath in her eyes that he even had to be able to make out through the very narrow slits in his mask.
Without a warning, he tore the necklace off of Arwen that her grandmother had given her at the wedding in Imladris not too long ago, tied it to a rolled parchment and thrust it into the hand of one of the others. "He'll recognize that elvish kitsch immediately. Put it somewhere on her horse."
"Would love to, but that creature doesn't let anyone come close!" was the nervous answer.
"Then tie it to the halter of the other! That's the King's horse. He'll find the message one way or another. Come on now, before the guards find their bound companions at the main gate."
The leader got one of the horses that one group member was waiting with apart from them. "The little dove rides with me. Don't forget the last detail of her dress. Can't have our future Queen be lacking in looks."
More unanimous laughter followed.
Before Arwen understood what was happening, someone put a black bag over her head from behind, the worst, the cruelest method of torture that these scumbags could have come up with for one of her kin. Nothing was worse for an elf than having to live with absolute darkness around them.
Every lesson of caution in such a dangerous situation ever learned forgotten, Arwen tried pulling away one last time. Thanks to her superior Firstborn-abilities dwindling constantly as of late though, she only felt someone dragging her along and how she was being lifted onto a horse. She made a move to thrust her elbow back once more, then there was suddenly a dull ache at her temple, and she knew nothing.