* Thank you to all who favoured, reviewed and kudos. Much appreciation to those who've offered their support and encouragement.
** All Sindarin dialogue is now to be indicated with brackets. I may go back and get the simple words translated a little later on, but at this point I am more interested in getting more chapters posted.
*** As always, thank you to my lovely beta, Frannel.
**** Like before, this chapter is cut into two parts for easier reading
***** Song - Whispers of Paradise by Anúna

Dramatis Personæ

Aglarebon – Woodland Stallion, Sindar's horse

Aragorn/Strider – Male, Chieftain of the Dúnedain

Baradon/Sculls – Male, Ranger

Bregol/Web - Male, Ranger

Camaenor/Vice - Male, Master of Arms

Cordoves/Swan – Female, ranger

Eryndes – Female, Mistress of Carthal & Apothecary

Faron/Dusk – Male, Hunting Master

Foruyndes – Female, Mistress of Stores

Gueniel – Female, Midwife

Laeron/Wren – Male, Ranger

Lobordir/Joust – Male, Master of Stables

Mydedis – Female, Mistress of Housekeeping

Sali – Female, Mistress of Kitchen

Sindar/Master Elf /Legolas – Sinda Male, undisclosed Prince of the Woodland Realm on unofficial secondment

Trîw/Jester – Male, ranger

Úrion/Bear – Male, Second in Command

After four days, out from amongst the trees lining the road, the great stone wall and main gate finally came into view.

"Sindar?"

"Sindar!" another ranger called. "Sindar has returned!"

Legolas nodded towards them but Aglarebon maintained his speed, charging through the opened gates with no care for the rangers guarding it.

On the other side of the great wall, Carthal stood proudly; the great manor three houses high, its dark stone brightened in hot mid afternoon sun and curtained by lengthened grass, greened by the late season rains.

"Pass the word," the guards shouted back in the direction of the manor, "Sindar has returned!"

"Pass the word! Sindar has returned!" he heard the word being passed on.

Legolas held up his hand returning the greeting but didn't hinder Aglarebon's enthusiasm and they cantered quickly towards the main embarkation area.

Everything seemed much as he'd left it; fields, livestock, children at play. Some of the children stopped their play to come running upon seeing his approach, stopping before reaching the road to watch him ride by silently. The trees shading much of the cut grassy areas and nestled in around the manor had begun to change hue with the first hint of autumn.

The fragrance in the air, of hay, grass and greenery mixed with the sounds of chooks and children was familiar and welcoming.

Aglarebon came to a brisk halt outside the main entrance with a snort.

Chewing his lip, Legolas jumped down, "(Why the haste)?"

Aglarebon pawed at the ground and threw his head in the direction of his stable.

Legolas' eyes narrowed. "I believe Aglarebon is anxious for your ministrations, ranger," he addressed the youth quickly approaching from his duty station. The boy was gifted horse-hand under Lobordir's firm tutelage but Legolas only vaguely felt his name was Glavrol; not nearly confident enough to call him by name.

The boy grinned happily, running an affectionate hand up Aglarebon's neck, "He always is. No doubt he's looking for a long draft of my special sweet blend and a thorough rub-down."

Unstrapping his saddle bag, Legolas snorted, "Do not spoil him too much, or I fear he will never wish to leave your care again."

Glavrol beamed proudly from Legolas' incidental compliment. "Welcome back, Sindar."

With a small nod he lightly smacked Aglarebon on cruppers, "(Go then. Be coddled)."

Released from his master Aglarebon set off for the stable at once, practically dragging poor Glavrol behind him.

"(Ill-disciplined donkey)," Legolas mocked under his breath, and received a short snicker in response before he disappeared from sight through the main stable door.

He had to smile. Aglarebon knew precisely what it took to make him happy and was never so selfless as to deny indulging when offered.

"Sindar!"

Legolas barely had time to turn before being engulfed in a bear hug. "Get off me, you great fool," he reproached half-heartedly, not returning the embrace but conceding to an affectionate pat on his friend's shoulder.

When Aragorn didn't let go though, he took a hold of his shoulder and urged him back.

Aragorn finally released him and stood back, a big smile bursting on his handsome face, "Welcome back." His smile wilted, eyes trailing critically over his face, "You look terrible."

Legolas' brow rose but then lowered with a snigger.

"Come," Aragorn's smile returned and he pressed Legolas forward, "Let's go upstairs. You're later than we expected."

"You were concerned?"

Aragorn glance at him, "Not at all. I know how languishing a folk are elves."

His eyes narrowed at the man and Aragorn grinned widely, "Maybe a little concerned."

"Your lack of faith does me little credit."

Aragorn stopped dead.

Legolas stopped too and held his friend's indignant stare, barely holding in his mirth, until he finally broke into a smile.

Aragorn took his shoulder none too gently, but held it strongly, "You are a worse tease than your father."

"I should hope so," he boasted, taking Aragorn's shoulder. "I am sorry for my delay but it was necessary."

Aragorn acknowledged his apology with a slight nod and gestured a little awkwardly for them to continue. Aragorn was a deep man and often greatly troubled by fear and doubt. Despite his jest, his friend's concern did warm him with affection.

They walked in silence through the main corridor and headed for the stairs.

"I see nothing of note has changed in my absence," Legolas offered conversationally.

Aragorn docked his head to the side and back again, "We've seen no more of the enemy and once word spread you'd left for Angmar, the rangers stopped demanding an all-out attack. Many even wished to follow your lead and head out to discover the enemy's plans."

"You stopped them?"

"Of course. We have doubled the patrols however, but as yet have found nothing."

"Not even a trail? Nothing?"

Aragorn simply shook his head which was enough to tell him his friend was worried. The fervour of his friend's greeting was explained at once.

"My efforts were not so unsuccessful," Legolas offered gently. "I believe we can now say with utter surety the orcs are not just making sport."

"I will send for Úrion." Aragorn looked him over again, his amusement masking his worry and doubt. "Unless you'd prefer to wash first?"

It was a fair suggestion and Aragorn knew him all too well, but there was a time for vanity and this wasn't it. "I can wait."

Aragorn watched him from the side, his eyes dancing with humour, "Very well."

The corners of Legolas' mouth curved upwards. Even after his efforts to wash in the river, by Aragorn's face alone he must have truly looked a fright. "I am glad to be back," he looked around the familiar corridors as they headed for the stairs, "You may be surprised to learn just how much."

"I'm pleased to hear it, even if you're simply favouring Carthal over Angmar."

"Nonsense," Legolas rebuked and they started up the stairs in tandem, "I speak as I mean."

Halfway up the stairs, Aragorn stopped the woman from the kitchen, Sali, Legolas remembered none too fondly, "Sali, can you please have Úrion report to the war-room immediately and-," he paused to look at Legolas, "bring something sweet and sticky with tea?"

"Oh very well, Strider, if I must," she sighed dramatically, "Welcome back, Sindar. Always a fine pleasure to see you again."

Legolas inclined his head politely but did not speak.

Grinning, Sali walked passed them continuing down the stairs.

"She still has eyes for older fellows," Aragorn sniggered quietly as they continued their way up.

"Keep those opinions to yourself."

Aragorn chuckled looking over his shoulder, "She has a renewed spring in her step. We have to keep you around for a while yet – we may get another couple decades out of the old girl."

Legolas flicked a dried clump of mud off his hair, "As I have said, we have much to discuss before I can wash. Unless you prefer snickering about the overzealous attentions of a crass woman?"

"You know how greatly I enjoy snickering when you are the topic."

A hiss escaped his lips and he shook his head, "Agoreg i dass? (Are you done?)"

Darting through the much busier halls of the second level, Aragorn took his time answering, "(It is good to have you back)."

Legolas glanced at him and they fell into silence coming to the third set of stairs, leading them to the top level and the war-room. Legolas pressed his lips together at length then finally murmured, "How fares your-" he stopped and changed his mind, "your people? Have they recovered?"

If Aragorn noticed his change mid-sentence, he made no comment of it, "Well enough. Like your own good people, we're accustomed to loss at the hand of our enemies."

Legolas gave a small nod but was not satisfied and his eyes darted from face to face in passing and down the long corridors, even sniffing the air for any hint of the particular mix of flowers.

"Are you looking for someone?"

He brought his attention back to his friend. Aragorn's face showed nothing but idle curiosity, "I lament I still do not know your people well enough." It was not a lie. "But I am still pleased to see them." Again, it wasn't a lie.

Aragorn lead him to the war-room, "A sentiment shared despite your misgivings about them. Perhaps over the next couple days you will see how well I know this about my people."

"-That was when I found the army," he set down his tea reluctantly. Glad though he was to be back on real food; warm tea and fresh food, news of this magnitude should not be delivered casually. "Orcs numbering four to five thousand. Beasts I never before beheld except for the rudimentary drawings in my-" he stopped himself in time, "my lord's library. Taller than five men, going on both two and four legs, pulling great wagons loaded with assorted armaments and weaponry. If I were to guess, the beasts were pulling wagons from Gundabad loaded with the bounties of its armouries, taking the safer northern road around the mountains. These beasts, originating from the northern wastes, although fearsome enough to look upon stand little threat against archers and spears. Or our stationary defensives. They lack both thickness of hide and intelligence. The enemy's preference does seem to remain for an open fielded battle, not all encompassing sieges."

"But you weren't able to penetrate their fortress?"

"I have not the magic to counter their enchantments," he answered Úrion, "Nor my gaze able to pierce the high stone walls or spires; the enemy's number inside the fortress remains unknown."

"Four to five thousand is number enough." Úrion, a man to be relied upon for his steady, unflappable temper, sipped his tea slowly before continuing, "enough to keep us under-sieged until we either come out to face them or starve."

"They cannot pass unseen through these lands," Legolas reminded him, "The Dúnedain will have three, possible four days notice."

"Can't they fool our eyes; use their spells to blind us to their approach?"

"Not even my lord Thranduil could hide an entire army."

"What of this other caster? The one whose spell left you unhindered?"

Looking to Aragorn, he found his friend burrowed under deep concern, "There are many magics in this world. I have no further knowledge than what I have spoken."

Aragorn clearly wasn't satisfied and continued his troubled thoughts.

"Can we not call upon Thranduil?" Úrion asked, "He is our ally after all."

Legolas didn't answer and waited for Aragorn. To call on his father for help on behalf of the Dúnedain was not Legolas' decision to make.

It was the chieftain's.

"Gell is a name I could call upon. His band may have a hundred to add to our number," Aragorn blinked away his thoughts and sat back in a great show of ease, "Thranduil's forces are occupied keeping back the tide on two fronts. Sindar?"

"Indeed," he answered, still eyeing his friend. "My lord will not commit the bulk of his forces this far north, no matter what regard he holds the Dúnedain. To do so would invite Gundabad, even Mordor through the front gates. However," he paused, considering, "-having said that, the north does present an open door to our flank. If the Dúnedain were to fall-" He nodded finally, "I do not think a small contingent unreasonable."

"A small contingent?" Úrion asked.

"I would not expect more than a couple hundred."

"A couple hundred would do little against five thousand-"

"Nay. We need only hold out until winter's first freeze," Aragorn spoke over Úrion. "Even orcs and elves will freeze to death in harsh enough blizzards. If we keep our borders . . . They must not build a base within a day of Carthal. We ensure that and they will have no choice but to wait until the thaw of spring."

"The North Rivers and the plains are extensive," Úrion pointed out warily.

"We'll set up scout posts and adhere to a strict patrol regiment and any attack or movement en mass will not go unseen."

"You truly believe orcs will shy away from battle on ice?" Legolas shook his head and gave in, reaching over to the serving platter to take a second warmed bun glazed with treacle; an incredibly simplistic offering and keeping with the poorer table of the Dúnedain. Simple it may be yet welcome. Looking back to his friend, he spoke carefully, "Such a reckoning is in error."

"If they had an established camp within a day's march I'd agree with you," Aragorn said stroking his beard, "No, winter's our ally and will keep the bulk of them away."

"Yet they continue to raid farms?" Úrion cradled his big hands around his tea once more, "out in the open - bold and unchallenged. A week's journey just to kill a few Dúnedain at twice the losses to them? I can't see the logic."

"The party I tracked were not rogues acting upon their own whim," Legolas told them, his fingers absentmindedly lightly playing with the bun's sticky glaze, "The raid was planned and executed by order."

Aragorn and Úrion stared at him. "You're sure?" Úrion asked.

"The messengers were expecting them. Their master was expecting them. Given the Dúnedain man I discovered, I do not think it unreasonable to assume their attacks of the farms were for the procurement of captives." He gave in and took a bite.

"Captives?"

He made them wait until he finished his mouthful, "The orc we questioned the morning after the feast spoke of the heir, but knew not his identity."

Aragorn flinched, "You think this man was a turncoat?"

"Indeed that is not what I think," he told him flatly, "He was tortured and left for a very slow death."

Aragorn and Úrion looked at each other, but it was Úrion who spoke this time, "Many come and go from here, especially those without wife or child. Yet we should try to discover his identity, let any waiting for his return to know his fate."

"You should leave this to my charge," Legolas told them firmly, "I had no choice but to abandon him, exposed and without dignity to save my own life. It should fall to me to discover his family."

Aragorn looked ready to argue but at Legolas' stern insistence he reluctantly gave in, "Very well, we'll leave it to you." With a glance at each other, both Aragorn and Úrion rose together.

Legolas watched them with a raised brow.

"We'll discuss your discoveries with the lieutenants," a smirk crept upon Aragorn's lips, "and have preparations commence for the new patrol schedules and scouting posts. Sindar, my friend, you better get cleaned up."

Legolas didn't answer, his eyes narrowing at the men.

Úrion chuckled, "He thinks you smell. Didn't you notice he ate none of the buns? Strider has a weak constitution."

Finishing the last of his food, Legolas finally stood to join them, "Yet for all the times I wished to have my nose pegged."

"Welcome back."

Legolas nodded to the fifth Dúnedain whose face he didn't know. The others filling the busy corridor smiled at him as they passed.

None stopped to speak to him in lengthy conversation, however, and their manner was still far too reserved around him.

Not outside the halls of his father had his presence been so celebrated. Legolas was trying to return to his room for his much anticipated wash, but with so many Dúnedain stopping him to speak, his progress was slow - even if his room was on the same level and only a short walk from the war-room.

"Sindar! Eru bless this day to have you back amongst us," the small silver haired woman took his hand warmly.

"Mydedis," Legolas greeted with genuine fondness. The mistress of housekeeping was as sweet natured as powdered sugar and made it her business he was comfortable in the manor. She also didn't feel the need to be reserved around him as many of the Dúnedain did. He looked around them pointedly, "Spirits seemed to have risen sharply in my absence."

"Certainly they have. The time for mourning has passed."

A group of younger women walked passed, each one carrying armfuls of linen and big smiles directed at him.

Legolas looked at Mydedis pointedly.

"Oh that!" she showed her few remaining teeth in a happy smile, "Many have lamented your hasty departure and now delight in your return."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed!" Keeping his hand tightly in hers, she guided him along the corridor, thankfully in the direction of his quarters. "Come. You look like you could do with a little freshening up."

Legolas let out a small chuckle.

Mydedis joined in, "Well truthfully, you look a bedraggled. Come, I have everything ready for you." She let go of his hand to gesture around them, "When you left, many expressed their debt to you for riding off into Angmar the way you did."

"Debt?" he questioned doubtfully.

"They are very grateful. Never has a stranger come and put his life on the line the way you have. Life in the north has always been tough but we learn quickly to rely on ourselves and each other. It's nothing more than a little hero worship. You'll get used to it."

Legolas looked at the smiling faces passing him, "I wish they would not."

He got enough of that at home.

Mydedis patted him on the arm, "Carthal's door will always be open to you, a home for you if you should ever choose it."

Legolas tingled with the warmth, his discomfort forgotten, "(Thank you)."

"Now," she pointed down the long corridor ahead, "I've had a bath drawn for you in your room. One of the women will be by later to see to your clothes. And there's a plate of food warming by the fire and a pitcher of wine."

"Wine?" he wet his lips.

Mydedis gave him a secretive wink, "One of our caravans returned early and with it some of our supplies we've been doing without over the past few months."

He ducked his head to her, "You are very kind."

"Aw," she hushed away his compliment, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"I am most grateful-"

"Oh, look. There's Eryndes."

Straightening up quickly from stooping down to Mydedis' smaller stature, he saw Eryndes move into the corridor four doors ahead of them. She'd not seen them and quietly chortled in confidence with the taller, thin women of whom she was closely acquainted. A midwife, he remembered.

Legolas hastily glanced down at his unsightly state. Though he'd tried to wash off most of the mud, that had been four days ago. Mud, dust and unnamed grime covered his clothes and skin, and most damning, the putrid stench of Angmar still lingered pungent in his nose.

Feeling foolish, he righted himself immediately and held himself tall; he was a rose garden compared to some of the rangers after only a single patrol in the hot sun.

Still his fingers itched with need to discretely brush himself down, pull straight his clothes and fix that sagging braid in his hair.

Why had he not done as Aragorn suggested and bathed earlier? Years ago his father would've tanned his hide for being out in public looking anything less than regal.

"Ah, Eryndes!" Mydedis called, "Look who's returned!"

The two women stopped their conversation. The midwife excused herself quickly and left Eryndes alone to greet them.

"Eryndes would be most pleased to see your safe return," Mydedis told him, "She has been most anxious."

"As have we all," Eryndes put in quickly as she joined them, "I am glad to see you safely back amongst us once again."

"Thank you," he stood perfectly still and completely unsure of what to do with his hands.

"Well, undoubtedly you wish catch up," Mydedis inferred lightly, "It's wonderful to have you back, Sindar but I have duties to attend."

Legolas nodded to her and she patted him on the arm then left the two of them standing together, feeling more than a little awkward in the middle of the corridor.

Three rangers Legolas knew not of came passed, "Welcome back, Sindar."

Legolas nodded to them reluctantly.

Beside him, Eryndes watched the rangers walking away, "Many attributed your hasty departure with the meeting in the war room and have been eager to make amends."

Legolas gazed down at her, trying not to be daunted by the curve of her neck and neatness of her small ears, "The foolish words of one so young should not cause all this concern. I have already forgotten."

"Not only for Bregol, but also their calls for revenge and foolish demands to take up arms. There are those who have sought Strider's forgiveness and may seek yours as well."

"Mydedis called it hero worship," he said shortly since his mouth was full of sand, "It is unnecessary."

"We are not accustomed to heroic strangers coming to save us."

"I have yet to save you," Legolas bit out through the sand without thinking.

"Perhaps not yet from the orcs," she admitted timidly, "but your flight to Angmar without hesitation on our benefit alone, well, many have been humbled. Many of whom have been long without hope have been heartened. We are grateful."

"I," the words floundered in his throat, "you are welcome."

Her gaze met his and Legolas stood mesmerised by the delicate shape to her eyes. Even with his perfect memory, he'd forgotten just how unnerving it all felt.

How simple words failed him when he so strongly desired to appear eloquent and charming.

"Well," she started to back away signalling her wish to leave, "I should-"

"Please," he said without thinking and out of his dire need to stop her. This awkwardness between them was intolerable. He breathed in, "Will you tell me, what I have missed?"

"Missed?"

"The festival," he said quickly and literally the first thing coming to mind, "I lament missing the last day. Aragorn spoke fondly of the games."

"There is not a great deal to tell," she told him sorrowfully, "with the raid and . . . much was cancelled. The feast and especially the games are surely a highlight. Langwen," she paused, "always enjoyed competing, probably because more often than not was victorious. She was very much looking forward to opposing Aragorn this year."

"I see," he murmured quietly, frustrated once more that even a seemingly innocuous topic as a festival was a path back to unhappy memory.

"However many requested replacement day be organised, and so once the caravan returns the day after tomorrow-"

"Caravan? Has the caravan not already returned? Mydedis said as much."

"One caravan has but many will go and return over the next month as each crop is harvested and our silos fill."

"I see."

Eryndes smiled, "The day of games is always greatly anticipated and I hope you will enjoy with us."

"Thank you," he said gently, perplexed and more than a little disappointed. He'd anticipated a somewhat comfortable air between them after their last encounter. He vowed he would speak.

Yet now, he barely knew how to breathe anymore.

"Master Elf?" she placed a hand on his arm. "Is everything alright?"

A thrill touch shot through his body from where she touched him, right down to his toes, and stirred him from his stupor, "Forgive me but I do not wish to offend any further, I must rid myself of this filth."

"Filth?" she asked, looking around them.

Legolas gestured to himself, indicating the dark burgundy smears across his body, "I tried to rid some of it before I returned, but much still remains." She didn't seem to understand. "I used mud from Angmar upon myself."

Her gaze followed his gestures as if only just realising his sad state, "Why on Earth would you do that?"

"To mask my scent," he said obviously.

"Your scent?" she asked, completely lost. "What is wrong with your scent?"

He blinked; taken by surprise it took all his self control not to laugh at her ignorance, "To mask my scent from the orcs. Their sense of smell is akin to elves."

Her cheeks lit up with a soft touch of pink, "Oh I see. How incredibly silly of me?"

Legolas' chest lightened, "Not at all silly if you never had cause to bathe in stinking mud."

She shifted a little, "I have heard of therapeutic baths of mud, but I would not think it quite the same."

"Indeed not," he agreed, "if you can forgive me, I will not foul the air any longer."

Her pretty blush grew, "You do not foul the air, Master Elf,"

"You are kind, but false." He truly stank, and his mood soured further. "Even a drunk-unwashed-pig-farming-Naugol could smell me," he grumbled.

Her lips clamped together, her eyes lit with humour. "A what?"

His head tilted to the side, "A dwarf."

She gave up. Covering her mouth with her hand, she laughed a laugh to warm his belly.

"Pardon my uncivil tongue," he apologised lightly.

"Then you subscribe to the general dislike amongst your kin regarding dwarves?"

He'd expected this question and didn't hesitate to answer, "I do."

"I met dwarves once," Eryndes told him factually, "a long time ago sure but I never saw reason for such prejudice. They were really quite charming to me."

His lip curled. Dwarves charming? "You are far too kind. I fear nothing short of a goblin would earn your dislike."

She stepped forward, "I dislike plenty-"

"Eryndes."

Eryndes looked over her shoulder. The midwife was staring at them, expectation on her face.

"Oh," Eryndes faced him with apology in her eyes, "I must go."

Legolas didn't answer and met the midwife's stare unblinking. When the midwife walked back down the corridor with a huff, he asked, "I do believe she dislikes me."

"Gueniel?"

"Nay," he nodded towards the departing woman, "The midwife."

"That is Gueniel," she confirmed with a small laugh, "and yes, she dislikes you."

"Indeed?" a vain smirk rose to his eyes. "Why? I have not spoken to her but once."

"Aye, and called her midwife. Her's is not the most forgiving of temperaments," Eryndes told him hastily and rushed after her friend.

With a long drawn breath, Legolas watched her animated steps until they disappeared down the stairs then went to find his hot bath and wine.

At least by halfway through their conversation he'd been able to remove the sand from his mouth and the choke from his throat.

It was a start.

Legolas walked around the tree and stood to watch. Two dozen children sat in the lush summer grass under the giant pear trees shading them from the mid afternoon sunshine. Around them the cicadas drummed an early rhythm to the afternoon air.

Freshly bathed, freshly clothed, cleaned hair dried, combed and neatly re-braided, Legolas looked and smelt once more as he should.

At the front of group was Erchel, one of the mistresses; mistress of instruction and learning if he wasn't mistaken. Erchel walked around the edges of the children, animated and smiling as she led them all in song.

All of the children joined in the singing, some were sitting in the laps of women, and one of the women was Eryndes. She sat with a small girl in her lap, her arms around the girl's body, singing encouraging to her. The child was shy but slowly joined in. Eryndes' friend, the midwife Gueniel who disliked him, sat beside her with a fair tune strumming from her lute.

Legolas crossed his arm over his chest, "Do we not have more pressing matters?"

Aragorn smiled with a genuine affinity, his gaze steady upon the group. After a moment he spoke quietly, "We will wait until they are finished."

"You did say we were to organise the scout posts and exhibit your progress of your elite scouts?"

"All in good time, melloneg."

Legolas tapped his fingers against his arm.

"Patience," Aragorn stopped his tapping with a hand, "This will not take long."

He looked at his friend, "Somehow I never imagined the fabled Dúnedain rangers reciting stories to children."

"They are our future," Aragorn caressed his words with eyes shining, "If we do not take the time to raise our children properly, the Dúnedain culture will fade into nothingness. Our songs and tales; our history and legacy."

Legolas scoffed, "Yes, I understand. What I do find amusing is you teaching children."

"They are my children, perhaps not by blood but I am no less their father."

Surprised by the longing in Aragorn's voice, Legolas felt a pang of his own regret and lost all of his impatience and amusement. Silently, they continued to watch.

Finally the women and children fell silent. Aragorn coaxed him forward, "All must take their turn teaching children, even me." Together they walked over to the Erchel who had waved them to come forth. Aragorn whispered, "Your father never takes the time to teach children?"

"Not for a very long time," Legolas said sombrely leaving Aragorn to keep away to the side of the group.

The children watched Aragorn take a seat absconded from the great hall at the front of their group and started to hush each other. Aragorn greeted the children and told them he would tell the story of Annúminas and the splitting of the realm. He sat back in the chair and began to recite.

During the telling, some of the younger children began to squirm and fuss, earning them a stern look or nudge from one of the women. The young girl in Eryndes's arms was soon asleep as she stroked the girl's long dark hair absently while listening to Aragorn's story.

When the story was finished, Aragorn stood up and smiled as the children said thank you together. With a smile he looked down at them, "Thank you." He then turned to Legolas, "Sindar, which story you would like to share."

Legolas froze, "Pardon?"

"Undoubtedly you have plenty of stories to tell the children?"

His eyes flicked over the group of children, everyone of them now staring at him. Even the girl in Eryndes' lap had stirred and stared up at him sleepily. "What story would I want to share?" he groused.

Aragorn shrugged, "A favourite of mine is Nîr Randír (Weeping Wanderer)."

He was serious.

Legolas narrowed his eyes at him and he opened his mouth to refuse-

All of the women and children continued to stare at him. Eryndes caught his eye and she smiled.

With a clenched jaw, Legolas walked over to Aragorn, his glare not wavering from his friend who happily bid him take his seat. Still feeling the upmost reluctance, he shot a fleeting glance back to Eryndes, who was still smiling. Obliging, he sat.

Drawing in a quiet but deep breath, he began . . .

Legolas finished the story with the obligatory (and so here ends the tale and time flows ever on with the beauty of life) to end every elven tale.

He was most surprised the majority of the children had remained attentive during his telling, He would not have thought children, of mortals or immortals, had the restraint to sit and listen to such a tale.

The Weeping Wanderer wasn't a particular favourite of his either.

The children however thanked him for his story with gusto, some missing teeth where new adult teeth would grow and others with dirty knees and all with dark hair, each one of them brightly smiling up at him. He bowed his head, "(I thank you)."

"Forgive us, children," Aragorn told them and Legolas went to stand with him, "but we must return to our duties now."

The children all gave a collective groan.

"Now, now. Perhaps we'll have time for more tomorrow." Aragorn nodded to Erchel and she took charge of the lessons once more.

"Well done," Aragorn praised as they walked away.

Legolas glared at him discreetly, "I did not appreciate that."

Aragorn smiled gently then nodded back to the children, "They did and very much so. You are a good storyteller."

Legolas looked back, some of them still watching him with keen interest, smiling and waving at him. He felt his brow soften. He conceded with a light shake of his head, "Very well. However, next time," his tone dropped, "a little more warning would be respectful."

Aragorn laughed lightly, "Next time you can tell them about the great Elf-King, the company of thirteen Dwarves and the burglar-Hobbit."

"Only if you tell of the fair Evenstar and the mortal Elessar," he returned Aragorn's tease, but his eyes swept to the side to catch that same child from weeks ago recommence stalking him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Legolas grumbled and pointed to the manor, "Come, I am curious to see how our scouts have survived your training in my absence."

It was suppertime. The hall was filled with folk eating and talking, a bright glow streamed through the great windows out into the darkened paths and gardens surrounding the manor.

There were three at least who were not in the hall as expected.

From the darkness, he saw the other two.

Aragorn smiled at her, taking her arm and leading her down the path along the neatly trimmed grass. She was handsome, especially when she smiled so openly at her companion.

Legolas' eyes followed them, their pace languid, talking softly and smiling freely at one another.

Aragorn stopped suddenly and his head shot up to find Legolas standing there.

Legolas stood firm, unmoving.

Aragorn frowned, uttering something quietly to the woman. She nodded and continued walking, alone though, her arm resting over her swollen belly. Once she had gone through the side door into the manor, Aragorn looked at him expectantly.

But Legolas held his tongue.

"You're wrong," Aragorn told him and when Legolas still didn't speak, Aragorn walked up to him, "You're wrong."

Legolas still didn't speak.

Aragorn lost his patience and brushed past him.

Legolas let him go without word, watching his friend, nay his brother, push through the door inside where the woman had gone. With Aragorn no longer in his view he dropped his eyes to the ground with a shaky sigh.

He hoped he was wrong too.

Conceding and about to leave for the hall and supper, the animated sound of women came up from the path to the northern wing of the manor.

"Master Elf? What are you doing out here," Eryndes asked gently, having left the group and walking towards him. Her arms filled with bundles of what must have been dried fruit from the smell wrapped in cloth, "Supper is inside."

"I am about to go -," he eyed the bundles held tightly to her chest, "You must be hungry."

Perplexed, she followed his eyes then laughed, "Oh, dried fruit. They are for the cakes."

"A little late to be making cake?"

She readjusted her overflowing burdens, "they need to soak the night."

"I see," but didn't really.

"Well," she smiled, "I best get these inside before I lose some."

Reacting on instinct, he stepped after her, holding out his hand, "May I assist you?"

Eryndes stopped, and stared up at him blankly. Resetting the bundle in her arms, her head shook gently, "Thank you but I can manage."

"No doubt you can," he pressed, unwilling to give in so readily, "but I am presently unburdened."

"It is very kind of you to offer but-."

"Eryndes! Come on, I'm starving!"

She looked ahead to the woman, the midwife Gueniel calling after her and with a small smile left him.

"I meant I wanted to help you. It would have please me greatly to help you," he murmured to himself as he glumly watched her hurry away to rejoin her companions.

Finally when he could see them no more he dropped his head with a low sigh. Legolas never deluded himself into thinking his venture would be easy.

Walking back into the hall, he also never considered it would be quite this hard.

"Where have you been?" Úrion waved him to the seat next to him, "Joust's been regaling us with a tale of his latest conquest with some merchant's wife."

"I had to do something whilst protecting a bunch of wagons on a slow trail south," Lobordir boasted.

Legolas took the seat, but stared in Aragorn's direction. His friend avoided his stare and continued eating without pause.

"Why do you think I would care to hear of Joust's latest depravity?" Legolas asked Úrion, his stare still in Aragorn's direction.

Aragorn didn't raise his head, not even when he grabbed for his mug of ale.

"Your keep him honest," Úrion pushed a large wooden serving bowl towards him. "He knows he cannot lie without your seeing."

"I thought you were betrothed," Legolas bit out towards Lobordir, taking the ladle from the bowl, then put it back with a grimace; Brownish-blue and white chunks of meat in gelatinous mush. The smell was as inviting as it looked.

"Not yet," Lobordir chimed in happily.

Legolas eyed the bowl. Sometimes not even his strict upbringing could force upon him foods which wouldn't fail turn even a dog green.

"Not hungry?"

He looked at Úrion, his lined face watching him closely and filled with concern.

Alas though sometimes being a guest at a poor people's table did. With something of an assuring air, Legolas retook the ladle and filled his plate - high.

"Put some vinegar and pepper on it," Aragorn suggested quietly from his other side.

"Pepper is your answer to every dish," Legolas commented as quietly, reaching for the vinegar.

"I notice you've stopped your tale about the merchant's wife," Úrion laughed at Lobordir, "Can I deduce once more you are full of fibs?"

Lobordir beamed at Legolas, "Sindar has not the taste for skirt-chasing. I'm not one to inflict my tales of conquest upon a friend."

"Nor do I," Aragorn muttered from beside him. Legolas found his friend had finally raised his head, looking at him.

Legolas held his stare.

"What is it?" Úrion asked, catching on to their odd exchange.

Aragorn went to answer but then stopped.

"A difference of opinion you may say," Legolas offered them.

"Or an unforgiving gwador (honour brother)," Aragorn muttered.

Legolas raised his eyebrow and Úrion smirked, "Strider, as always you're caught between two cultures."

Lobordir pointed to Legolas, "And this one's culture you've already failed."

Aragorn's head fell once more to return to his food, "Not at all. One cannot be of two cultures without conflict."

"True," Legolas took up a fork and prodded the mushy meat, "but preference would have been for something less . . . lecherous."

"A few youthful indiscretions does not make me a lecher," Aragorn growled at him.

Legolas found it impossible not to huff, "You will forgive me if I do not agree." His abhorrence of Aragorn's less than pure past was valid. Had Aragorn been an elf, no amount of time would exonerate him and have been ostracised by all.

Aragorn took a long draught of ale, then levelled his glare at him, "You speak of forgiveness when you are as unforgiving as your father." Pushing his empty plate away, he rose with a grave, 'Good evening', and left the table.

Legolas didn't watch him leave. He did wish to follow, with all of his heart he wanted to follow and repair the rift. Apologise. Yet the smaller part, the part where he was his father's son kept him rooted in his chair.

Aragorn may feel sore, but the suggestion Legolas was as resentful as his father left him raw.

A little too raw.

Eryndes was fond of walking after supper when her duties allowed her the liberty, and the health benefits were such she always made an example of it and encouraged others to join her.

None ever did. Her friends were busy putting children to bed, catching up of gossip, mending their husband's torn clothing, or enjoying a mug or two of ale or a pot of tea in the great hall. They did not feel the health benefits of gentle exercise and fresh air after a meal was worth altering their evening routines.

So, as it was this night, Eryndes walked alone. Just as her mother had done.

Truly however alone was fine. Alone gave her time to wander without concern for pace or the upkeep of conversation and manners.

Alone, just like in her mother's cottage to the south, she was free. Free as one like her could ever hope. A woman of the Dúnedain and a mistress of Carthal was never wholly free. But as her mother would've reminded her, with privilege comes duty, and until the day of her death, the mistress's duty was never done.

Duty to king, duty to family and honour, duty to people, then only ever to be replaced by duty to husband and children.

The quiet nights walking around the wall of the compound was one respite allowed for her to indulge in and whereupon a lovely evening as it was this night, made her respite that much more sad.

With a bright moon her only companion, Eryndes wiped away the single tear clinging to her lashes and sang softly with a stubborn smile to crickets in the distance:

"Gentle breeze, scattered embers on moonlit water

Waking the cool breath of night

Silent stars shining down from eternal darkness

Frozen reflections of light

Golden sun rising out of a pale blue morning

Carries the summer along

Distant cries, seagulls dance in unending patterns

Echoes rejoice with their song

And for one moment in time

I hear a whisper of para-."

Eryndes stopped and searched the darkness, "Is someone there?"

For many a moment her heart seemed the only noise competing with the crickets, but then a rustle whispered into her ears again. Then again.

With a gasp, Eryndes stepped back.

As if somehow her eyes had failed to see him, there he was; standing tall and proud, a mouthful of grass hanging from his teeth.

How had she not seen the great white horse standing not three metres from her? The animal was as white as snow!

"Aglarebon?" she carefully stepped towards him, fearful he was not there, but her eyes deceived or a spectre come to scare her. "Aglarebon? What are you doing out here?"

Aglarebon resumed his chewing and ducked his head for more. He didn't warn her away and showed no cause for caution and so Eryndes carefully walked closer. With a hand reached out to the white brilliance hardly veiled from the darkness of the night, and slowly, tentatively touched him.

Her fingers and palm felt hair; he was real.

Eryndes let out her held breath loudly, "You gave me a scare. How did you get here?"

When Aglarebon didn't show her any attention, she tried again, "(Why are you here? Is Sindar here too?)"

Aglarebon paused his eating, enough to lift his long face to look at her, but then resumed his supper.

"(You would not disregard me this way had I an apple)," she grumbled.

Aglarebon snorted and she believed him in complete agreement with her.

"Well," she took his askew bridle, fixed it straight and started to lead him on, "Come, back to the stables with you."

Aglarebon didn't obey and with another snort, stepped away for a newer patch of grass, dragging her with him.

Eryndes returned his derisive snort, tugging hard on his bridle, "(Come, now! Do as you're told!)"

Aglarebon lifted his head to stare at her.

"(Come!)" she repeated before losing her patience, (Now!)

At her snap his ears bent backward and he moved to follow her at once.

"(You only obey a firm tongue)?" she scoffed.

Aglarebon gave no hint of an answer and ate his last mouthful of grass as they walked.

"(What is wrong? You liked me the first time we met? Do I truly need an apple before you will warm to me)?"

Aglarebon walked beside her, silently, his awesome stature making her feel tiny. Then without warning he lowered his proud head and nudged her gently in the shoulder.

Eryndes smiled and pushed him away, "(Is that an apology? Too little too late.)

He snickered lightly and nudged her again.

"(You remind me of some men I know. When at first your apology doesn't succeed, repeat and fully expect a different outcome)." Yet she did reach up and stroked his neck, "(You are your master's horse. Stubborn, proud, prefer being alone in the darkness. Was it the moon calling you to wander or were you scolded)?"

Aglarebon twisted his long neck so his head was directly away from her.

"(Scolded then? There are better ways of finding solace than sulking and feasting in our oat field)," she soothed.

The lights from outside the manor grew in her sight and soon they'd come to the main road passed the brewery, carpenter's workshop.

Camaenor stood in the doorway of his armoury but offered no greeting. She hadn't expected one. He stood silently, watching her as he drank from his ale mug.

Others were about at the front side of the manor. There was always folk about at all times. No part of the day went without guards standing watch.

Many of the folk going about either tending their duties and finishing their dues nodded to her in greeting and some even gave a questioning glance at the great horse at her side.

She shrugged at their questions; Eryndes didn't know. Aglarebon seemed to be a force unto himself.

Almost to the main stable, Glavrol came striding, "There he is."

"Misplaced something, Glavrol?"

Glavrol chuckled, "Not at all. Sindar says Aglarebon is unaccustomed to being cooped up in the stables and requires fresh air and the noises of trees to calm him. So we let him wander from time to time."

"Wander? Freely?" Eryndes felt irritated by Glavrol's careless attitude towards a lord's horse, especially from a boy half her age, "He was not near the trees. I found him head down in the oat field feasting."

"Aglarebon's a fine spirit but sometimes enjoys creating an . . . atmosphere for his fellow stall-mates. After being suitably chastised earlier, he demanded his freedom to brood alone," Glavrol took the reins from her with genuine affection on his youthful face, "(Did you enjoy your walk before the mistress saw fit to bring you back. Has your mood yet improved, young master)?"

"If he is so often afforded this freedom then why have I not seen him out before?"

Glavrol clucked his tongue and started plucking fastidiously at the few spear grass seeds caught in the horses long thick mane, "He chooses his days and times-"

"Is there a problem, ranger?"

Glavrol stood up straight and answered crisply, "Not at all Sindar."

Eryndes watched Sindar come in closer, enough for her to see his face in the dim light.

Where the elf came from she couldn't tell. Sindar's brow rose at Glavrol.

Glavrol didn't miss a beat and resumed fussing over Aglarebon, "Eryndes brought him back early, not knowing we allow him liberty."

"I am sorry if-" she stopped, Sindar's quick amusement speaking plainly her apology was completely unnecessary.

"I'm surprised he allowed her to coax him back. He can be so stubborn."

Sindar continued to stare at her, not taking his eyes from her to answer Glavrol, "Perhaps Aglarebon prefers the company of ladies whom are known to gift him with her apples."

"Not at all," she disputed, "He tried very hard to ignore me and as Glavrol said, he was obstinate about coming back."

Sindar's eyes fell away from her to the horse. "(Did he now)?" Well acquainted with his master's stare, Aglarebon turned away in shame.

"He did try to buy my forgiveness with affection."

"Was he successful?" Sindar asked her curiously.

"After the second attempt as I took pity on him."

Sindar brought Aglarebon's head back to face him, "(How fortunate the lady who gifts you with apples also has a forgiving heart. I would not have been so generous. You will show proper respect)." Sindar knocked his head to the side and the horse lowered his head but didn't move. That he could invoke such reactions in the proud horse by just a look left her in awe. "(Now)."

Sindar's quiet command had Aglarebon shooting forward to obey but not without a groan of self-pity, and quickly made his way back into the stable.

"I will settle him in," Glavrol followed Aglarebon into the stable.

Eryndes watched them go with amazement, "I wish I could do that."

"I have no doubt of your commanding any," his words coming softly through the cool air, "if you should wish it."

Startled, she turned back to Sindar to find him looking at her, "How do you mean?"

He didn't answer for a moment, and she felt once more like she was trapped in his blinkless eyes. But then he shifted on his feet and broke the trance, "Nothing. Just idle thoughts. It is a habit for you to walk the grounds so late at night?"

"Oh," she smiled, "Yes, I guess you might call it a habit. I always encouraged others to join me but thus far-," she gestured to the lack of company with a shrug.

"Then shall I join you?"

Heat rose to her cheeks but how could she refuse? Not in proper manner anyway. "Alas I am on my way back to retire-"

"Another time then," Sindar cut in with a gentle smile and the Earth stopped.

"Tomorrow evening?" she hastily offered without thinking.

"I look forward to it," Sindar's smile continued to keep her captive, "Good evening."

He waited long enough for her to reciprocate and then left just as silently as he came.

Tomorrow evening? Eryndes could kick herself. Why did she offer? Aragorn bade her to befriend him but surely Sindar would have nothing to speak about with the likes of her? Even worse, what conversation could she possible offer that would be of any interest to him? Certainly not her culinary plans for the next week.

And what was that about her commanding any? Idle and silly thoughts indeed! A laugh as quiet as a murmur and perhaps a little unnerved snuck from her throat.

Although having said she was on her way to retire, she no longer felt tired and more than a bit thrown off her balance. Instead Eryndes decided to head for the kitchen. There was always some labour to be done and as her mother always loved to preach; nothing cured a trouble mind like labour.

As she walked, her eyes looked back in the direction where Sindar had disappeared back into the darkness.

Sindar was lucky to be an elf, for if her were a man, she'd most certainly think him truly odd.