Aragorn's heart skipped a beat. Alasse? The other kingdoms were threatening Lord Arehada, because Aragorn, only a distant ally of Lord Arehada, married an elf? "I don't understand, Peter." He finally managed to reply. "Why threaten him? Why do the other realms not come to me directly?"
"I-I do not know, my king." Peter said languidly. "Lord Arehada demands that you...you...send the queen away."
I've already sent her away, Aragorn thought. "What do you mean? He means send her away until the matter is cleared up, 'til he's left in peace?"
"N-n-no, my lord." Peter stammered. "He means forever. He says you are to disband Lady Alasse as your queen, and send her back to the Greenwood, to be with her own people, for the rest of time. The man said that then, and only then, will his realm be safe."
Aragorn just stared at the sick man. Alasse was what made him whole! She was his great love, his light at the end of the tunnel. And now a baby was growing from the eternal bond he and she shared together. How could the other kingdoms ask such a thing of him?! Wait, they weren't asking. They were ordering him to! Threatening him to banish his beloved wife and baby, so that he didn't send a 'bad example' to the surrounding bigots! And threatening an innocent bystander just because they thought Aragorn was unorthodox!
Aragorn clenched the end of his tunic. Others' lives were apparently at stake if he didn't bide by their terms. But he was the king, for crying out loud! He had a right to make his own terms! None of this reflected any known shred of logic! In all his years as a ranger, as a boy learning history in Lord Elrond's house, he could not recall realms disputing over such an issue as this!
What was he to do? His former friend was calling to him for help. Others could be killed. But why had Lord Arehada tortured Aragorn's men, men who meant only peace? What did that prove, except this was no child's play they were dealing with?
"Your majesty?" Skandar spoke. "My lord?" Aragorn glanced at him quizzically, as if they were strangers on the street. "My lord, you look shaken."
Aragorn remained silent. He shot up from the sick bed, and fiercely strode out of the Healing Halls, trying to clear his tense head. How had this come upon him? And why? Aragorn wandered dazedly back toward the castle. The villagers bowed but gazed on him with concern and confusion. They addressed him worriedly, but he did not regard their presence.
"There you are, little brother!" Elladan called.
Aragorn halted and spun on his heel to face the owner of the voice. His body sagged with relief and hope. The two sons of Elrond were perched on their steeds on the white cobblestone streets, both smiling warmly.
"'Dan! 'Ro!" Aragorn yelled and ran to them. The two elves dismounted and placed their fists across their chests, but Aragorn yanked the both of them in a life-squeezing embrace.
"Ohh, my brothers! You have no conception of what a welcome sight you are!" Aragorn breathed.