Aragorn's thoughts were still with Legolas when he could finally take his place by Arwen's bedside. The moon was once more almost impossible to make out in the sky. So Aragorn could only vaguely guess the night's progress.
But it must be far beyond midnight when he stretched a little for the first time, given how his bones cracked after he'd been fighting infections and fever nonstop for too long, murmuring healing words in Sindarin, with his eyes closed and his hands on Arwen's side and her forehead. He hadn't even noticed that a gust of wind had been blown out the only candle burning in the room.
Only a quiet yawn or whine of the whelp that Ryscfin had brought to the city had broken the silence only every now and then. The dog was still a little weak, but when he'd seen Aragorn hurry across the yard, he'd waddled after him ever until Aragorn had had no choice but to take him here. Upon arrival, the animal had crawled under the bed and was sleeping there now with a content snort.
It was the only thing that had Aragorn smirk for a moment before he closed his eyes for a quick rest.
"About time. You know, I've always been meaning to ask: Do all the Dúnedain need so little sleep in general, or is it just you who can do almost without?" Arwen's voice had Aragorn look up in visible surprise.
Using a torch from the hallway, he quickly lit a few candles. "I've made it a habit, to sleep only when nothing important is going on when I was an adolescent. Otherwise, I can't find any rest."
"I should remember that. Guess that means I'll see you in our bedroom once a month at most, once we have one." Arwen's short grin turned into a cough again already.
Aragorn quickly handed her a cup of water and helped her sit up, then caressed her cheek for a check. Judging by his visible relief, her fever seemed to have gone down. "Not while you're there, don't worry. How are you?"
"I'm not really sure."
Arwen still felt awfully cold, no amount of blankets could change that. It was as if they'd got only her body out of that cave. As if part of her soul was still there. The shock about this one short, terrible moment remained when she had had to fear, that one bastard would end her new life before it had really begun. And it frightened her how vulnerable this mortal body really was.
When her cup started to shake, she quickly put it aside. She didn't want to burden Aragorn with such problems. He'd already risked far too much for her. She wouldn't have needed to hear the healers in the hallway gossip about certain events on the streets to know that. "At least the pain is gone."
"You just don't feel it. They gave you a numbing herbal mixture. Did you eat anything? You have to regain your strength."
Arwen just shook her head. She silently watched Aragorn cut an apple from a bowl on the table into pieces with a knife. Given a certain unpleasant welcome present that had waited for him in his chambers upon their arrival from their journey, that he had told her about recently – far too late for her taste –, a gesture probably not only meant to help her rest.
"Thank you. I think I slept all day." It took some effort to force the pieces down her throat. Though it didn't burn so badly anymore, her gullet felt downright clogged. By the stars, how were men dealing with this all the time? Her, she'd definitely not leave the house without sufficiently warm clothes ever again.
"They say, you're in trouble for looking for me."
"More because of some people's mindset." Aragorn calmingly caressed her arm for a moment. "Part of the folk is unhappier than I'd realized." He leaned forward with a sigh, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Some are screaming for improvements that are simply not possible to achieve so quickly. They only know the myth they've been told about the heir of Kings. They expect me to clap my hands and make everything as it was before Sauron's shadow crept across the land. They rather listen to lies than understand that Faramir would have to take care of the whole land as well, and not only of them."
Aragorn ran an exhausted hand through his curls, then absently folded his hands. "But don't you burden yourself with these things as well. These worries are hard enough for me to deal with."
"And it was me who added even more." Staring down on her blanket, Arwen swallowed thickly. "I wasn't careful enough, though I knew, these men were in the city. I'm sorry, Estel. It won't happen again." Now tears were welling in her eyes after all. Exactly what she'd meant to avoid.
"Don't." Aragorn grabbed her hand in agitation. "I should have taken better care. And the guards were being negligent as well. One thing led to another. I didn't expect them to drag you into this personally, not yet. This is exactly why I had involved you in this whole thing as little as possible in the beginning, so they wouldn't even target you, to begin with. It's driving me insane, thinking about what could have happened – what did happen."
"Fortunately, it wasn't much. But they wanted to know so much about you. That's what scares me. They want to strike right here, right in our home. They think, we … that maybe I'm carrying your child." Her hand still shaking, Arwen stroked the tunic they'd put on her to replace her ruined dress, grazing the dagger wound on her belly. "I mean, they couldn't know … Maybe I should have told these bastards. But that wouldn't have changed anything either. That one man would have done anything at all to make sure, you'll never look at me again." Her words became quieter by the syllable, finally turning into a hoarse sob.
Aragorn grabbed her chin, trying to read the answer in her eyes. "Did he dare to …?"
"No. But I think he wanted someone else to do the dirty work for him." Arwen quickly rested her hand on his. "Ryscfin, this boy, he refused to obey. If he didn't, who knows …" Wrapping her arms around Aragorn's neck, seeking support, she hid her face against his shoulder, allowed his caress on her back to lead her far away from that cruel place in her soul.
"But that's not what's worrying me. They wanted to know all about your daily routine. They're here …"
"I know. Right now, we don't know who we can trust. And as long as you're being close to me, these rebels will be out to get you. I know that now. Next time they won't hesitate to go even further." Now she felt Aragorn tremble too. "I'd understand if you changed your mind about living here until I can get rid of these people."
"Estel?" Confused, Arwen backed away a little. "What are you even talking about? I don't want to leave. Didn't I tell you I'd stay with you until you decided about our future? No matter what."
"With me? We can hardly even see each other right now! Many court ladies talk about you with suspicion, just because you weren't born at a court of Men. Even after our wedding, they'll be watching our every step. And then the Stewardaides. Is the risk worth it? I want you to be happy, Arwen." There was suddenly so much pain in Aragorn's eyes ... Some surely came from the thought of sending her away, but it was hard to ignore that he could also hardly stand having to fear that someone would harm her. "There's still many of your people left in Imladris. It would be just a few months …"
"Estel, I don't want to leave!" A hint of anger took hold of Arwen, at the thought that he could be actually serious about this nonsense. That it wasn't just springing from a completely overtired mind.
"I know exactly what could happen. But I won't let a few misguided men part me from you. Besides, you seem to have forgotten that I'm a warrior just like you. Once I'm healed, I will be finally remembering that again for good. Then I'll have at least something to do until I can officially take over tasks at this court. It's only natural that you don't have much time right now. You did only just take office. I'm well trained in waiting, you should know that."
Leaning towards him, she gave him a slow, tender kiss. It took Aragorn only a single uneasy second before he returned the gesture, slightly opening his lips so their tongues could meet.
At least for one long moment, time was standing still.
"As if I stood a chance against someone as stubborn as you." Aragorn reluctantly pushed Arwen an arm's length away. "I'll find a way to make your life here safer. We can get through this together." Though his worries hadn't become any smaller, he hid them behind a loving smile and only let go of Arwen when it was time to say good-bye. She still was quite weak and needed rest, no matter how much he'd have loved to cuddle her further.
Then a thought occurred to him. Ignoring Arwen's confusion, he knelt down next to the bed and got out the whelp from under it that she hadn't noticed yet. The little one wasn't happy about being woken up at all but yapped in quiet protest. Aragorn sat the tiny animal down on Arwen's lap and nodded at her invitingly.
She eyed the dog in astonishment, managing to scratch him behind his ear a little, in spite of her exhaustion, while Aragorn explained where the animal was coming from.
The whelp curiously sniffed her hand. He seemed to ponder what to think about this new being in his proximity for a moment. Then he started to pant in delight and jump up and down on the blanket. When Arwen looked up at Aragorn questioningly, he made use of the inattention immediately. Bracing his front paws on her upper body, he tried to lick her face.
Arwen made it just in time to sit him down on the blanket again, chuckling.
"I think you could use a little company. And you'll surely be a much better mother figure than a grumpy Dúnadan." The enthusiastic shine in Arwen's eyes made Aragorn's heart swell. He hadn't been allowed to see it for far too long. To avoid spoiling her happiness, he rather didn't tell her the ulterior motive for that spontaneous gift right away.
A whelp could make but a little noise. But this one would grow into an imposing animal and develop a keen protective instinct. A big dog in Arwen's chambers who would defend his lady, when Aragorn couldn't take care of her himself, sounded like a good plan.
At least the whelp seemed to be very satisfied with the choice of his new owner, seeing as he'd already got comfortable on her belly, with his head resting on his paws, and was about to fall asleep again.
"This is so sweet." Arwen smiled at Aragorn, visibly moved. "Do you know when you can come back?"
"Tomorrow night. If I can't make it to get away from the meetings earlier, that is. I'll have a guard stand outside your door until you're back on your feet and can swing your sword again yourself." Aragorn put out the candles again. "Rest now. I'll stay until you're asleep."
He could have left a whole group of soldiers by the room though and even lock it from inside … After what had happened, he would always be worried about Arwen, as long as the Stewardaides existed.
Upon arrival in his own chambers, he searched it to make sure that nothing was possibly different than before. A procedure he'd probably have to go through every evening now, at least until the enemy in his own ranks had been caught. And that might take a while; these people were being damn careful. There wasn't even anything written in that message that Legolas and he had been able to steal that he could not already have guessed and not a single reference to either a sender or a recipient. It was not just with these worries that he did lay down to sleep then. He probably wouldn't find any rest, but for the sake of reason, he should probably at least try.
The upcoming time would be exhausting for all the realm leaders.
When autumn unfolded in Minas Tirith, it was time for the hobbits to leave Gondor. More than one day was spent in tears and with farewells before on their last evening in his city, Aragorn invited the halflings to a feast in a private setting, in the King's House.
Recently, things had been calm, compared to the bad events after the coronation. Still, it was another evening spent mostly with nervousness that spoilt the appetite. One reason for keeping the table small was that Aragorn hadn't forgotten that his enemies – almost as if they were a Sackville-Baggins – struck on such days on principle, to hit him especially hard. No matter how often the guards assured them that everything was alright, the mood remained sober.
After the meal, the silence in the festive hall that not even a couple of very gifted musicians with harps could bridge had everyone quickly flee who didn't want to watch the evening fade away over some wine and depressing conversation. Soon, the circle was reduced to the hobbits' closest friends.
After the last course, it didn't even take Sam five minutes to excuse himself from the hall too. He didn't have a real destination in mind when he ended up in the courtyard where far more guards than usual were on patrol. Another reminder that Minas Tirith wasn't the safest place in the world right now. Maybe he should just go to his room and give in to the tiredness that the heavy meal had left. If someone came looking for him though, that was the first place, his friend would suspect him to be. It was easier to storm Mordor than to keep sleeping with Merry and Pippin hammering on your door.
With a sigh, he let his gaze wander along the high white wall that he was maybe allowed to see in the bright shine of the moon for the last time tonight when he noticed a shape sitting at the north side that didn't quite seem to match the soldiers making their observant rounds up there.
Driven by his usual insatiable thirst for knowledge, Sam ran towards one of the wooden stairs leading upwards and climbed them with some difficulty. These were just not made for Hobbits. When he arrived, out of breath, his face flushed, bracing his hands on his knees, he was worried that the elf he'd seen from the distance had vanished already. She surely wasn't sitting there because she was longing for some company so badly.
Instead, Tarisilya was suddenly standing right before him, shaking her head in amusement. "Samwise Gamgee, is there really nothing that can rid you of your curiosity?"
"That's not in a Hobbit's nature," he announced proudly but quickly became rueful.
"I just meant to ask, milady … I mean, Princess … why you didn't stay with us earlier." Why was this polite form of address so complicated? Not even Strider had a problem with the hobbits still calling him by one of his old names. But this black-clad elf who lately was being close to him suspiciously often had insisted that the halflings paid the nobles that respect. It wasn't like that elf had a right to give anyone here orders, but who wanted to argue with someone who was twice your size and had the snow of Caradhras shining in his eyes?
"You can stop trying so hard, Sam." Tarisilya knelt down in front of him and took his hand. "My friends call me Ilya. I would be proud to be friends with a legendary Hobbit like you. What do you say?"
"Of course … I mean, I would like that." Sam desperately prayed for a hole to swallow him. He still wasn't used to people calling him a hero. He didn't feel like a hero. He felt like a little boy wasting a noble Lady's time.
It wasn't like he wouldn't have wanted to have this conversation much earlier, but if one didn't happen to be the King, his future wife, a patient, or a healer, it had been difficult to lay eyes on Tarisilya lately. His curiosity hadn't been so big that he'd wanted to break a leg on purpose, just to find out what Legolas' wife was like. "I think I better go …"
"Why don't you come and sit with me, Sam?" She waved him along as if she knew exactly about his thoughts and sat down on that same spot again that provided a good view of the woods of North Ithilien.
"Do you think the others might still come?" Sam asked hopefully.
Aragorn had sent a message to North Ithilien but since the elves there didn't have a fixed domicile yet, no one could be sure if it even had been received. Or if it had been received in time.
"I doubt it." Noticing Sam's confusion about her cynical tone, Tarisilya quickly softened it. "I'm sure they would have loved to say good-bye to you, but there's just so much to do right now. Don't worry, Sam. We will come to visit you. And you're very welcome to visit us anytime, once the settlement is finished."
"Don't you miss Legolas?" Sam had been there when Tarisilya had almost died. He'd seen how important she was to Legolas. He couldn't imagine them having a fight. But it was a little strange that they spent so little time together.
"I'm sorry. It's none of my business," he quickly added when Tarisilya's expression became dismissive.
"Why are you here, Sam?"
Awkwardly, he tugged on his collar. It felt inappropriate, talking to an elf about something that even a lot of men didn't understand. But now that he actually had the chance … He definitely wouldn't ask Erestor about this, Legolas had last been in the city after Aragorn's coronation and – right: He didn't know anyone else he could ask. Oh well. If she got angry, he could handle that.
"Why are you leaving?" He sounded more accusing than planned. "The elves, I mean. Why are they leaving us alone? Because of the bad things that some people on the streets are saying? You can't listen to those! Some are saying things like that about Hobbits too. Just don't listen to them."
Tarisilya put a stop to him with a quiet laugh, but even while she did, her eyes darkened further. "We started leaving Middle-earth long before a few men tried to revive old hatred. That's not it. And not all of us will vanish at once. There'll still be many elves who'll have the pleasure of making your acquaintance in your lifetime, Sam. But one by one, even the last of us will join those who are waiting in the west for them and whom we don't want to do without any longer. Those who realized long before we did that this is not a world that elves can live in anymore."
"But everything's fine now," Sam said in protest. More upset by the second, his hands fidgeted with the buttons of his vest. "Sauron is dead! Now everything will be as it was. Couldn't the others come back? Everything is alright now ..."
"Is it?" Tarisilya asked gently. "Some men will always find a reason for fighting and blood, Sam, though it's being justified to hope for all of us that such a horrible war will never happen again. But the conflicts will never stop and we've been trying to solve them for too long. We have enough of our own that we can't be proud of either. And those shall not cause any more trouble here. Even if the elves in Valinor were allowed to live in Middle-earth again … And you have to realize, that stopped being possible a very long time ago ... The elves grew tired of this world. They don't want to watch the suffering anymore. Can you remember Haldir?"
"Quite well, actually." The memory of how the Fellowship had been taken prisoner in Lórien by the marchwardens had Sam shiver.
Tarisilya chuckled again. "He's actually really nice, at least when he had proper breakfast. Haldir was always something like a pillar between us waiting in the woods and the warriors. He fulfilled his duty with all he had. There was nothing more important to him than securing the borders. Not even the feelings that have been existing between my brother and him for centuries, though both of them are far too stubborn to ever admit that, even to themselves. The war almost cost Haldir his life; that's how much he fought for this world that he loves with all of his heart, just like me. But now he doesn't have to worry about anything anymore, and that's exactly how it should be. I'm looking forward to finally hear him laugh again one day, probably about stealing strawberries from my plate. That last happened 300 years ago." When Sam's eyes went wide with understanding, she nodded with a jerk.
"I just wish I could go west with him soon, to my father, my brother …" She paused to take a deep breath.
"Every good-bye hurts, especially us Firstborn who deal with pain a lot longer than other beings. That's the reason why many of us are still here. Because you can't just leave everything behind so easily. Legolas and I will be drawn across the ocean as well, but as long as our friends here need our help, they will get it."
"And if one day it will be your friends' children and grandchildren who seek your assistance? Will you start a war with the Valar then and sail back, just to try and satisfy everyone once again?"
Sam startled hard while Tarisilya just rolled her eyes at the sound of Erestor's voice. Apparently, she'd long heard him coming and had just been too polite to end the conversation.
Now she got up though. "I'm sure the others are already waiting for you, Sam. Come on. The company in the celebration hall is more pleasant."
"Do you think, running from it makes it go away?" Taking an unusually relaxed position, Erestor leaned against a pinnacle and crossed his arms. "The war is over and you still let yourself be pushed around."
"It's not my fault, certain people don't understand the meaning of the words 'Get out of my sight'," she replied coolly. "Or I would long be rid of one problem."
"And even more alone," was the dry answer. "Initially, I was under the impression that this whole settlement charade would be good for you. Instead, you're sitting around here now, just as lonely as in the war. Alone among hostile men – your brother would be terrified."
"Why don't you rather worry about your job instead of elves who are none of your business?" Feigning boredom, Tarisilya looked up at the cloudy sky.
"Well, somebody has to, since you stopped fighting wrongs being done to you at some point. Isn't it ironic that Vandrin and Tegiend were able to give it all up … And you who were always called the most stubborn part of your family, let yourself be put in chains?"
Erestor's slightly lowered his voice since more and more of the warriors nearby started to look their way with interest, one of them even moving a little closer to them. His eyes expressed real concern; his face was marked by fine wrinkles that Sam had only rarely happened to see on a Firstborn.
Tarisilya didn't seem to notice. "Tell me, when exactly did I ask you for one of your famous, profound analyses of a situation? Lord Elrond left you here to help the King, not me. Are you looking for new achievements now because you're out of your debt?"
"There's no need to attack me when it's really you who feels miserable, Ilya." Erestor tiredly rubbed his forehead. "Aren't you ever getting sick of this childish nonsense?"
"If you need to know: no. What are you doing here?"
"Be alone, just like you. Until I heard that unbearable sugarcoated version of your fate that you're trying to sell an eager audience." Erestor shortly nodded at Sam, with a short smile for a change, as pity-tinted as it was.
"Have you no opinions of your own left at all anymore? Why are you troubling yourself with a duty that you're not comfortable with? With a village of the lost who, frankly, would probably rather need help to follow the call of the Valar instead of encouragement to keep on avoiding the decision? Do you think planting a few trees and giving a piece of dirt a fancy name will revive the time of the elves on Middle-earth? Everything you do for him right now is only prolonging the time that you'll be stuck here parted from your family. Heavens, Ilya, and here I thought it was His Highness of Mirkwood who went blind back then, not you."
Not only Sam but the guards as well looked up, partly startled, partly visibly amused, at the sudden sound of a slap. That was something one would maybe expect from a brattish court lady or from a farmer woman on the street. Definitely not from a noble elf who looked angrier about losing control like that than anyone else, and immediately stepped back, covering her eyes with her hands. But there was no apology.
Erestor rubbed his reddened cheek, one eyebrow raised. "Good to see you have that much energy left at least. Can we start talking to each other like normal people again, now that we got that out of the way?"
"Just leave me alone!" Tarisilya shoved past Sam who couldn't even have left if he'd wanted to, much too shocked by the argument. Not shocked enough to not see that Tarisilya was crying though.
He wished he could tell her something, help her somehow, but he felt even clearer than at the beginning of the conversation that this wasn't his world. He was relieved when Erestor pushed past him without a farewell too.
Unintentionally, the two elves had achieved something that not even the constant homesickness had: Sam finally wanted to get back to the Shire and forget, he had ever left it.