Aragorn understood better and better why he could remember Lord Elrond actually only with this withdrawn, light frown on his face, and why Erestor already seemed to have forgotten how to laugh two Ages ago. If the Lord of Imladris and his chief advisor had been dealing with similar things for millennia as Aragorn had to, now that he was King, he could understand this attitude very well.
He desperately wished, his foster father hadn't left the city so early, and not only because it might take days now, maybe even weeks, until he would even learn that something had happened to his daughter. Depending on the realm that his foster father might stop for a break at on his way back, if he even would, being one of those that Aragorn had sent carrier pigeons to or not.
In addition to the feelings of guilt that Aragorn had because of the kidnapping anyway, he could really have used his foster father's level-headed mind by his side right now.
It felt like each and every dwarf of Moria was working with their hammer inside his head. It was depressing enough, having to deal with enemies of your own regime so shortly after your coronation. Things became annoying when you were forced to wait for news from a third party about your own beloved's fate, to avoid leaving an inconsiderate impression with the folk.
But it became really absurd when you had to start arguing about interior design then.
In fact, Aragorn had to start doubting his initial positive judgment of his advisor-council; there seriously were voices being raised among the men that the new reign was ill-fated and that they should discard habits and destroy possessions of the past as quickly as possible, to get rid of the bad luck clinging to everything that reminded of how destructive Denethor's rule had been in the end. Starting with the big meeting room in the White Tower.
Prejudice and mistrust among the folk were bad enough. Aragorn refused to deal with superstition on top. But since he'd already realized that discussions with these people led to even more delay by default, he had postponed the debate for the moment and moved the morning emergency sessions to his own chambers without further ado.
In retrospect, unfortunately, a bad idea. Now the fruitless conversation about something happening out there without Aragorn being allowed to intervene directly took even longer … And he didn't even have time left for being alone in his living room to make a decision he'd avoided ever since the attack.
When the first of Faramir's Rangers came back to the city with nothing but a gloomy headshake, even durable patience like Aragorn's was at an end. As he could easily visualize the all but palpable pain on Elrond's expression alone, once he would learn that he might lose his daughter even earlier than by his journey to the west, Aragorn finally had to act.
Before the sun had even gone up, before the first of his extremely helpful advisors could knock on his door again, he traded his bright red silk tunic for inconspicuous grey and brown hunting clothes, pulled his hood over his hastily tied back hair, and used his ability to move unseen to get to the stables without attracting any attention.
For now, he just wanted to go meet the rest of Faramir's riders who had pulled an all-nighter. Depending on what they would have to say to him, he had to get back here as soon as possible to take additional steps. But the only one who had apparently spotted him on the way, in spite of all carefulness, eyed him as if he'd lost his mind when he led Brego from his stall.
"Get out of my way, mellon."
"I love animals too much for that, my friend." Legolas snatched Brego's reins from his hand faster than Aragorn's still-tired senses realized and brought him back.
"He's still lame, can't you see that? If you're so deadset on hurting the people and yourself with another scandal, consider at least that you won't make it far with a badly battered horse."
"Well, I'd expect you to have changed clothes and saddled up already if you're so deadset on spying on me," Aragorn replied sarcastically, hinting at the evening on the Paths of the Dead that he'd also tried in vain to lose his companions. At least Gimli still seemed to be asleep today.
Unlike back then though, he wasn't half as reluctant to take the elf with him today. Until now, he had arduously talked Legolas out of searching for his old friend himself before they knew more, as Aragorn was very well aware of how much Tarisilya still needed her husband around. But having a second experienced tracker by his side just would have been worth a lot.
Now of all times though, when he had finally brought himself to leave, Legolas suddenly seemed to change his mind. "I'm not here to join you in something that brings more damage than an advantage."
He hastily unsaddled Brego who endured it unusually calmly, apparently glad indeed to not have to follow his owner outside. Only when the stallion turned his head to bite, because upon unfastening the cinch, Legolas nudged a still-sensitive spot, he stopped his head with an irritated comment in Sindarin. Said love for animals didn't go as far as wanting to catch an unpleasant wound.
"If you're so convinced that you need to leave instead of sending someone else, just do it instead of glaring daggers at me. How am I supposed to keep the King of Gondor from anything? Faramir and Erestor both provided you with enough arguments about why you can't give these misguided people any more of your personal attention. Unless you want them to exclusively target people close to you henceforth. If you want to ignore all of that, better get out of here right away before somebody else sees you."
Aragorn hesitated for a moment but then turned away abruptly to find a horse whose speed was a match for Brego's. Maybe Tercelborne; Tarisilya hopefully wouldn't mind.
In his absentmindedness, he almost ran into Faramir who approached from the other side.
"Given you can make it past him," Legolas added, as amused as one could be, being worried sick about one of their oldest companions.
"It's really encouraging how much you two trust me." Remaining unimpressed, Aragorn continued looking around among the horses. "After you deemed me capable of leading a whole army in the crucial battle and taking office in these realms, you put it past me to decide what the right thing to do is?"
"Right now, I have to." The brightening morning light revealed Faramir's ashen skin, the stringy look of his strawberry blonde hair. One would expect a newly married man to appear far healthier and more spirited. "You won't find anything more than the others. And unlike them, you'll surely not stop when you tire and the waning light of day prevents an efficient search. Men that you trusted with everything in the war already, are doing everything they can. Do you really want to show people how small your trust in your own fighters is after they already had to notice the gaps in the city's defenses?"
"This isn't about trust but about providing Arwen with the optimal help. Your people aren't the only ones who have often wandered these lands. My paths, too, led me through their woods more than once in the past, and closer to Mordor than many others came when the enemy was still preparing for war there and I had to track Gollum down. The kidnappers' traces are already cold, soon they'll be useless. One short shower, and we won't have any clues at all left about where these men rode to. The longer I wait, the worse all this could end, for my partner of all people, only because of me. Or did you forget that the Stewardaides have declared elves, in particular, their enemies? That's been happening a little too often recently for my taste."
Aragorn's meaningfully glanced at Legolas. It was still far too painful for both of them to remember Dunland, all that blood in a rocky pit, seven maimed Firstborn corpses ... That, as well, had been a crime born of fanatic hate.
"Let me do it." Faramir tiredly rubbed his forehead, a gesture emphasizing his exhaustion. "I'm still the one who knows the most corners of Ithilien. And we need results as soon as possible, you're right about that. Not only am I just as concerned about Lady Arwen as you. Word has already got around that your enemies struck once more. If we cannot achieve a clear victory over them, it will only encourage their beliefs. I would be grateful for support though."
He looked at Brego's stall where Legolas was still acting as if suddenly none of this was his business anymore.
Only when Aragorn looked his way too, he finally reacted. And he only needed to look outside the stall window, towards the Citadel, to make Aragorn understand why he was hesitating so much.
When Legolas had last gone on a journey for him, it had cost his wife and himself something that could never be made right ever again; it was a simple as that. Besides, the plans for the elven settlement in North Ithilien were progressing quickly and actually didn't allow any delay.
Many of the elves who had come here were long ready for their first work both in North Ithilien and in Minas Tirith, to strengthen the solidarity between their folk and Men. A factor not to be underestimated especially in these unstable times. And though these Firstborn were just as upset by Arwen's disappearance as they were, to Aragorn's best knowledge there wasn't a fighter or hunter of a quality that would be of any use on such a quest among them. The trained elvish warriors were all still busy protecting their own realms from last enemy groups. No, these settlers had come here for Legolas, and they would need his motivation and explanations all the more right now, so recent happenings wouldn't discourage them again immediately.
But still, none of that would have been a reason to deny such a request, not when it was about Arwen. Something else was off here.
"You really don't know what day it is, do you, Aragorn?"
"Given the last few days haven't damaged my wits, the eleventh." Aragorn could spare himself the follow-up-question the moment he had said it.
The eleventh, of course. Tarisilya's begetting day. As if it wasn't enough that Tarisilya had to fear so much for her friend on this day of all days.
There was no way Aragorn ask Legolas to leave Minas Tirith today. Not after what had happened in Rohan. That would be possible again tomorrow at best if nothing useful had happened until then.
"No one will go with or instead of me. I'll be back as fast as I can, but your place, Faramir, is in this city when the King leaves it, you have to realize that. That my enemies are apparently staying in Ithilien right now doesn't mean they won't ever try anything here anymore. We have to keep them in check on all fronts. I won't let these bastards have their way."
They were interrupted by another new arrival. Unlike Legolas, Tarisilya hadn't dressed up for her special day. Instead, she carried his usual resilient traveling clothes and his weapons in a bundle under her arm as Aragorn noticed with a good deal of bafflement. So much for them having to go easy on the she-elf. He should know better by now.
"What are you still doing here, elwen?" Greeting the others with only a quick nod, Tarisilya came to stand next to her husband in Brego's stall and took his hands. "Do you seriously think I can celebrate when one of my closest friends is in mortal danger? You've been roaming the courtyard like a warg ever since yesterday. If you don't finally leave, someone is going to try and shoot you with an arrow."
"Then you two go," Faramir finally sighed, reluctantly, when he saw Legolas' doubtful consent.
"You want to feed your enemies' hopes?" Erestor's unexpected appearance almost completed the circle of the King's closest confidants.
"Neither His Majesty nor you can get actively involved in this matter, Steward. You endanger your realm's government by emotionally colored decisions."
"That you are unable to understand something like that is not exactly news." Tarisilya didn't make her dislike of the eccentric Noldo a secret any more than in the last few days. "If you feel more comfortable in circles where people rather have discussions than save lives, maybe you should go back home."
"Your new title still doesn't give you the right to judge my behavior in any way, Ilya," the other elf who seemed even another shade paler than usual today, replied with audibly forced calmness. "I would long be out there myself if my assignment wasn't to stay in the city, especially in such situations, to assess and influence people's reactions. That was Lord Elrond's wish, so I oblige, no matter how hard that is for me when someone is missing that I know since they were born." There was so much honest pain in his piercing dark eyes that Tarisilya turned away in shame.
"If none of the search parties finds out anything, I will leave for Ithilien anyway, though that might not fit your worldview. Not all of us bury their head in the sand or run away on principle as soon as it gets a little difficult."
"Now, you listen here …"
"Silence, both of you!" Aragorn forced himself to take a deep breath after raising his voice so much for a moment that not even the horses were making any sound anymore. Actually, it wasn't for him to talk to Firstborn like that, but these two's behavior had already been driving him crazy the whole time. "I don't know what happened between you two; it's none of my business either. But if you want to speak up in my presence, you get along. Or I'll have you sent outside the city gate with your personal belongings so you can go back to Imladris and Lórien, as far away from each other as possible! I really have worse problems than carrying the can for a century-old quarrel!"
He gazed outside the stable where the first rays of sun slowly made their way across the land. He had lost precious time. "I thank you for your advice, Erestor, but my mind is made up. I'm glad if you keep an eye on things for me here. Focus on that please, not on petty conflicts."
Still mad, he passed the elves by without another word and got Tercelborne from one of the other stalls who fortunately followed him trustingly, especially after Tarisilya had nodded at him in confirmation, her cheeks visibly flushed after his little reprimand.
If Legolas still wanted to come, in spite of Aragorn snarling at his wife like that, that was fine with him, but he should kindly hurry up then.
Legolas still pulled Tarisilya close for a few last words of good-bye, and he let him. Aragorn didn't need Erestor's sharp ears to be able to make out his friend's voice in the echo of the half-empty stable. And the self-reproaches in it definitely didn't make the departure any easier.
"I'll be back soon."
While almost a thousand years, most of which had been wasted with waiting and secrecy, hadn't been enough yet for Legolas to know Tarisilya inside out: By pretending to be stronger than she was she could never fool him.
Of course, she wanted him to go help Arwen. And they definitely shouldn't wait anymore, no longer than it would take Aragorn to get ready to leave.
But Tarisilya's mind, still darkened by grief, also yearned for her to keep spending the nights in his arms, motionlessly and crying silently, in an attempt to climb that mountain of pain that the loss of their child had left. Waiting in despair for the next morning so she could distract herself with the next task or patient. This wasn't about a celebration that wouldn't have taken place today anyway. Even without a kidnapping, for the two of them, there was no reason for friskiness. This was about her not wanting her to be alone right now.
"Please go. Don't make it even harder." Her hands clenched on his new tunic for a moment, then she forced herself to let go and hug him instead. "Take care of yourself. I don't feel like having to patch you up once again."
"It's only a few misguided men, Ilya." Legolas tried to push aside the comparatively minor danger waiting for him this time with a short smile.
"Like the few misguided Uruk-hai at the Gap? Like those few Dunlendings in Rohan? Or those at Helm's Deep?" she replied bitterly.
A moment later, she let her head fall back against the stall's wall when both old and fresh pain had Legolas' pinch his eyes shut. It was only the barrier around his memories that Tarisilya had personally built in him for his protection in Helm's Deep that kept him from losing every drive to try and stop hostile men yet again. "I'm sorry."
"No, you're right. I have overestimated myself once too often already. This time I will gratefully listen to your voice of reason."
But Legolas did step back from her now because these suppressed memories that had been scratching more and more of the surface recently, tried to choke his soul like a poisonous cloak. Aragorn wouldn't wait for him, and he still had to change clothes.
When he bent down to get his things though, something fell into his hands that his wife had apparently brought unknowingly as it had been stored together with his daggers in their chambers … And that should be regarded as a hint of fate without a doubt.
Before he could say anything, Brego came between them, his head nudging Tarisilya's hands that he had in good memory after a healing session on their past journey, while he probably would have pushed Legolas out of his stall with his behind if he could.
"I know, I know. Stop it, you charmer. Fine, I'm going to help you." No matter how badly Tarisilya was doing, horses always drew laughter from her.
Half of her thoughts already at the healing, she only looked up again when Legolas held out to her the bright red cloth, interweaved with silver threads, that he'd prepared the prior night. "What is this?"
"Something that I won't be able to give you in time if the trip takes longer than expected." Since Tarisilya made no move to take the cloth from him, Legolas just took her hand and put it in it so she could feel the characteristic shape of a blade under the wrapping – and also, that he was trembling.
That he once more overcame a deeply rooted reluctance inside of him this morning, one she knew just too well. She knew it since that day after they had just started to get to know each other when he had shown her how to use a bow and her brother had given him a piece of mind. And since then, from every time that he helped her with harmless target practice or showed her simple moves and gestures for self-defense every now and then.
He hated it when his wife used a weapon; probably nothing would ever change about that. But if she had to, he wanted to try and make sure at least that she would know then what she was doing.
If she even still wanted that after Rohan though, was a different matter.
I am very grateful that you saved my life, but do not confuse that with the permission to turn my sister into a warrior.
The memory of Tegiend and the usual pain of separation coming with it tried to rob Tarisilya of her breath for a moment. She frantically tried to visualize any other image from the past and promptly ended up with Aragorn's and Legolas' fight before their departure for the west.
In my family, it is not common that she-elves ride out with a bow and a sword every day. Ada and I had to learn that lesson the hard way as you should know.
Just a few weeks later, Legolas had been forced to give her his daggers because he had had to be afraid that she would need them. And she had indeed. While those blades had not saved their baby, at least they had helped to not lose her own life in Rohan. And without any noticeable effects on her healing abilities no less.
That seemed to have altered Legolas' previously so deadlocked opinion about the contributions of most she-elves to battle outside of wartimes. But that change hadn't reached his heart yet, she could clearly see it in him. She didn't want to bear him being so afraid of her willingly throwing herself into a battle, now that she was being armed.
Don't you always say that whoever uses a weapon should be able to handle it?
"You already proved you can do that quite well when it counts, moon-queen," Legolas answered the question echoing in her memory … and in their marriage bond, so tender still, and unreliable especially since the miscarriage. He stopped her wrist when she wanted to give the cloth back to him. "We'll start on the rest of the most important exercises when I'm back. This is not about how that makes me feel. I won't always be able to be with you. So let at least part of the strength that I will fight for you with all my life, do so."
Tarisilya opened the cloth with trembling hands. What choice did she have, given life in Gondor seemed to become more dangerous every week? Her victory in Rohan had been barely thanks to anything more than the energy of despair and good aim, paired with a trick that she had been able to get to the attacking Uruk-hai's uncovered neck with. A trick that could have led to her death just as well. And she hadn't been able to fend off the hard punch to her stomach with it when the bastard had fallen, that had destroyed Legolas' and her life within seconds.
If she didn't want to be that helpless next time, she would have to learn how to handle such a weapon … And Legolas would be standing beside her anxiously every time. Fear welled up inside her when the light of the stall window refracted in the slightly curved blade, blinding her as if it wanted to remind her how little she knew about all this. This would never be her world. This was something for warriors like Tegiend and Aragorn, like Legolas ...
I won't always be able to be with you.
And what if someone threatened her family one day? The memory of a vision that she'd often had in the war, brushed Tarisilya's mind, so intensively that she had to brace herself against the wall again, with closed eyes.
The child.
The child from her visions. Legolas' and her son, with bright hair and his big ocean blue eyes looking up at her trustingly. It was impossible for her to tell if it hadn't just been fever dreams creating this vision back then, or if that child had not been the baby she'd only been allowed to carry in her for such a short time.
And still, she knew all of a sudden, in a vague but entirely certain way that she couldn't explain. If Legolas and she could restart their lives as lovers at some point, then she would be allowed to hold this child in her arms one day. If the two of them would already have started their life in the west by then, maybe it would indeed even be the same innocent little soul that Mandos had hopefully started to look after not too long ago. And Tarisilya would see this child grow up, not torn away from it at birth like her own mother. Legolas then wouldn't always be able to be there either.
She would never lose a child again.
Opening the cloth completely, Tarisilya revealed a snow-white handle, adorned with jewels. The gems formed a crescent. On the other side, there was the same sentence in Tengwar written that Legolas had used to give her his eternal promise. The blade looked completely unused, sharp even to the smallest touch.
She wondered when Legolas had had time for this work, but it was unmistakably his handwriting. She knew this precision and love for details from his bow, back then before in gratitude for his tireless support of the Fellowship of the Ring, he'd been given that precious silver-white weapon of the Galadhrim in the war. So he had gone so far with fighting himself as to even do this himself.
"I …" A thank you wouldn't come, despite everything. The gift was just too much of a curse, more than a blessing, for that.
Legolas closed her lips with his own. "When the moon is full, I'll be back, Ilya. Then we'll have much to catch up with. I won't celebrate your first begetting day as my wife with a gift of blood. There is more that I have prepared. But I do not want to give you that on such a dark day."
"We have much time still, my Prince." Carefully, Tarisilya put the dagger down on a wooden edge outside of Brego's reach and said good-bye to her husband with the last hug.
"Get her back, Legolas. I don't want to lose Arwen. As long as someone keeps this walking bookshelf out there out of my sight, I'll manage to wait for your return as patiently as possible."
"Erestor has more experience with a dagger than you. Don't take your chances," Legolas answered more dryly than humorously before he hurried to the tack room to finally get changed.