Here we are again, then! We've actually had this written, but as always, I'm a lazy sod and couldn't be arsed to edit and upload. But now I'm on my Easter holidays, and well, why not?

Thanks to reviewers Oleanne, Katharos Lehrer, RainHolly, Xenfea, and rs. Hope you five continue to enjoy!

So please, simply enjoy chapter two. ;)

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Aragorn's senses tingled a second before he'd been shoved out of the way - he'd known, felt like something was going to happen...but in the security of his own kingdom, this close, he'd not believed it possible... But before he had the chance to grasp her, to pull them both out of the way...the King felt his body being pushed to the side, and too late, he caught a glimpse of the sharp, glistening metal penetrate his beloved's heart.

The music had stopped - clearly they had noticed something had happened. The King's breath caught as the Elf-maiden collapsed to the ground, and he was at her side in an instant, not caring that he was getting blood on his tunic. Not caring that the party was watching. This was the woman he had committed to, this was the woman he loved, and he was not going to let her die. And surely not because someone had wanted to kill him instead. He would notlet her take his place. He would never love another. Not in the way he loved her.

His breathing laboured, he bent over her, caressing her cheek as calmly as he could. Dismay filled his grey irises. Why? Why must you have saved me, again? He choked on tears that were threatening to fall, and his fingers curled around the weapon. "I am truly sorry, this is going to hurt..." he whispered as he dug the arrow out of Arwen's shoulder. Blood flowed from the break in the skin, and he applied pressure to the wound. "Athelas!" he cried. "I need athelas!" There was no time to get her to the Houses of Healing.

A piercing cry escaped her lips as the arrow was yanked from her flesh. It seemed as if the only thing she could feel was pain. Pain...so much pain... It felt as if her arm and shoulder were afire. Dimly she heard someone shouting. Aragorn...Elessar was calling for aid. She tried to open her eyes, to reassure him that she was fine but darkness crept across her vision before she was able and dragged her down into the depths of unconsciousness.

The Steward of Gondor was directing the men in where to take the prisoner when he heard his King's agonized cry. He turned and found that his own beloved was already moving, hastening towards the Houses of Healing as fast as she were able. One of the Lady Arwen's brothers had also left the Hall, heading in the same direction. The Lady's father was at her side, doing his best to calm the Man to whom his daughter was betrothed. Was the Lady still alive? Faramir had not seen where the arrow had pierced flesh.

Èowyn and one of the twins returned at almost the exact moment, each carrying as much of the healing plant as they were able to hold. These were deposited near to the King and Faramir started towards his lord, to see what, if anything else, he could do to help.

Elessar noticed right away that Arwen's eyes flickered, and she tried to reach out to him...but of course the pain would be too much - especially for someone as unaware as war as his beloved. She wasn't unintelligent - of course, she was informed and wise - but she had never truly been in battle, never been pierced by an arrow...her skin was weak, easy to be penetrated... "You should not have tried to save me..." he whispered to her, even though he knew she would not be able to hear him.

Aragorn heard footsteps beside him, and looked up into the shocked, dismayed face of Lord Elrond. His eyes were wide, and he tried to convey a desperate apology as he continued to apply pressure to the wound. Arwen could not lose any more blood, or she would not survive. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Stay with me, meleth," he murmured desperately, "This must not be your fate."

Èowyn had merely just appeared when the King grasped the plant and carefully tended to the wound. He closed his eyes as he pressed a hand to her forehead. "Cold as ice..." he whispered. "Elladan, a hot towel." The order was directed at one of Arwen's brothers, surely he would comply. He inserted a leaf of the healing plant into the wound, pressing his hand against it once more. His large grey orbs didn't once move from her motionless figure.

Her brother disappeared just as a strangled gasp escaped his sister's lips. Her back arched in pain and her father had to hold her down to allow the King to continue his work. Tears were silently falling from the Eldar's eyes but he did as he could. Her other brother had hold of her hand and was murmuring softly in Elvish to the distressed Elf-maiden.

Gradually, she calmed and the other twin appeared with warm, damp towels, laying them across his sister's forehead with gentle touches. "Will she live?" The voice husky and rough, was from Faramir this time. The white-robed Shield-Maiden of Rohan by his side clasped his hand tightly; the other pressed to her lips, eyes wide and shocked.

Aragorn pressed the hot towels gently against Arwen's forehead, hoping the water would soothe her somewhat. He breathed heavily, his eyes unblinking as he held onto her hand tightly. He exchanged a glance with Elrohir, who said nothing, but nodded. His heart pounding far more than he was comfortable with, he inserted more of the kingsfoil into the wound. It was the only chance she had to live.

Maybe she would not survive, but the King would not allow himself to look into Lord Elrond's tears, or the dismayed faces of the dignitaries surrounding them. If he had it the way he wanted, no one would be around, except for him and a few trusted healers. Anything that could be done to make her survive, to heal her...anything...Elessar would do anythingto secure her safety. "Yes," he said shortly, watching with slight relief as she started to calm down. "She'll be fine."

By Elbereth, he hoped she would be fine.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the wound started to close over and the company, other than the King, gathered around the Queen-to-be heaved a collective sigh of relief. As if suddenly remembering that he were a Healer also, her father bowed his head and murmured ancient Elvish words of healing under his breath. Words to soothe and calm, to prevent infection... The twins, whilst not as strong natural Healers as their father, had picked up many things over the years and joined in. If nothing else the bonds of kinship would aid in their sister's recovery.

Still the maiden did not awake, but colour returned to cheeks sent ashen with pain and shock and her laboured breathing eased somewhat. If they chose to do so, she could be moved without fear of more harm befalling her. Èowyn, as if noticing the tight grasp she had upon Faramir's hand, loosened her grip somewhat. The Steward squeezed the Lady of Rohan's hand gently. "Do not be afeared Èowyn," the Lord murmured softly to his beloved. "The King has said she will survive and so she must."

It was almost as if the elder days had returned, and if the weight of the crown had not reminded him of his duty, it would have been likely that he wouldn't remember his position at all. Why he was being shot at. Why...why Arwen had jumped in front of the arrow as to save his life. He continued to run his hands along her forehead, using the cloth to clean the wound as to be sure that more harm would not come upon her.

"Why must you always try to save me, Undomiel?" he whispered his voice so low that only the twins and Lord Elrond would be able to hear. "My Tinuviel, it is not required of you." He closed his eyes and willed power to him, the power to heal. The power, he praised Elbereth, he had been gifted with as a child. He called the strength to him and closed his eyes, his hands on her forehead, her cheeks, hopefully having some effect.

A soft exhalation escaped the maiden's lips and her eyes flickered open. She gazed up at the room of the Hall in confusion. Why was she lying down? A shaky hand raised and brushed weakly across her Lord's trimmed hair. "Wh-what?" She croaked, the only work she was able to utter before her strength failed her and she drifted out again.

This passing in and out of consciousness proceeded for the next couple of minutes before the Elven woman had gathered enough strength to hold her eyes open for more than a few seconds. "Elessar?" Her voice was a thready whisper. "Adar?" Her gaze roved around the company gathered around her form. They lingered on the Man at her side, a question in their clear depths.

Relief crossed the King's features as her eyes opened fully. He didn't blink, didn't break the connection. "Arwen..." he breathed out lightly, his voice husky and filled with something akin to grief. But of course, there was that lightness, that hint of relief that her time had not yet come. "Never frighten me like that again..." He knew his anger might take over later - she had no right to save his life, that arrow would not have slain him. He would have enough good sense for both of them.

A brief flicker of concern appeared in her gaze but she pushed it away. If he was angry later then he was angry later. She had learnt long ago that she could not stay his moods, only attempt to draw him from them. One trembling hand rose to her shoulder, gingerly exploring tender, new skin. "I...I do not recall...what has happened?" Her voice was stronger now, but still not more than a quiet murmur.

"An...assassin..." Aragorn felt his throat grow dry, and he blinked, finally. He took a heavy, shattering breath. "...aimed to kill me. Arwen, you shoved me out of the way...the arrow pierced your shoulder." He hated the fact that he even had to say the dreaded words. The arrow having pierced her, hurt him just as painfully, if not more so. But how would he be able to explain that to her? That was exactly it - he couldn't. There was no way she could understand.

"I was...injured?" She seemed shocked by this knowledge. "I..." How could she not recall being shot? "I do not...remember...this..."

"Arwen?" he asked uncertainly, his voice more concerned by the moment, and he turned to Lord Elrond, lost. How could she not remember? How was it all a blank slate? The redeeming factor for him was that, at least, she seemed to remember him, and at least remembered who she was. So it couldn't be that bad. But...then, did she remember the war? Frodo, Sam? Everyone?

The voice of Lord Elrond intervened. "It is perhaps best if my daughter does not recall the event. Do not be afeared Aragorn, this is perfectly normal. The mind has many tricks with which to preserve itself and this is simply one of those. She may remember the event in time, but it will be at such a time that her mind feels she can best handle the memory. Be calm my son. All is well now."

The Elf paused in thought. "Mayhap it would be best if you took her somewhere she can rest and continue to heal?" It was a gentle order, thinly veiled as a suggestion.

Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment and nodded silently, recalling any sensation of calmness that he could retain. "Yes, my Lord." It was rather odd, he realised, to be referring to the Elf who raised him as a 'Lord' when in fact Elessar was the highest authority in the room, but maybe that was what would make him a great King of Men. Because he would never undermine lesser men, and would take everything they said into account when making decisions for the good of the kingdom. He smiled briefly at the Elven-king. "Thank you," he said, his voice quiet. He also nodded to the twins, neither young nor old, thanking them with a gaze.

The wounded woman's brothers nodded back and their father also acknowledge his foster son with a slight tilt of his head. "Rest well Arwen." The Lord Elrond laid a hand upon his daughter's brow. She smiled up at him briefly. "I shall Adar." Her clear, grey gaze shifted to her Lord and the smile shifted into a tiny smirk. "Am I to be walking there Elessar?" Her tone was teasing. She was clearly feeling a lot better than she had been mere minutes ago.

The watchers silently blessed the healing magic of the Elves and their King. All had grown fond of the Elven-maid with whom their Lord was to be wedded. Even Èowyn, who despite finding happiness with the Steward had still held some high affection for the King of Gondor, found that her heart was gladdened by the other woman's speedy recovery.

Aragorn chuckled lightly at her tease, still finding it a bit odd that she too would adapt to calling him by his kingly title and name, Elessar. His mind wandering, he wondered if she would ever again call him by the name she had once known him as - Estel. By far, it was still his favourite. Maybe that was bad - he should surely prefer the name given by his mother and father, Gilraen and Arathorn...yet, Estel was how he was raised, and it was always how he had thought of himself.

Because, and only now did he realise it - he was their Hope. Without him, the war would not have been won. Arwen had been right. He was Isildur's heir. Not Isildur himself. His blood did not carry that weakness; instead it held strength. It was blood that he would one day be honoured to pass on to an heir, an heir whom he could fully entrust with his kingdom...whenever his time came.

"Certainly not, my lady," he breathed out in relief as he slipped a hand to support her neck. "I do, however, need to know where you would prefer to rest."

"Wherever you will my Lord, I shall be content." Her lips parted in a genteel yawn and she almost fell asleep on the cold stone she was laid upon. "Please hurry."

The watchers chuckled softly and parted to let their King through, moving to spread the word that the attempted assassin had been captured and that their King's beloved was recovering.

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Leave us a review to tell us how we're doing! :D I myself was pretty pleased...the parts I'd written I couldn't even believe I'd written beacuse they're so brilliant, if I do say so... -cheeky grin for all of you readers-

Anyway, that songfic is still coming along, for "The Call," and it's really long...long enough, in fact, that we were thinking of splitting it into chapters. Ideas?

Oh, and my cowriter is the brilliant Nymphadora Andromeda Lupin, check out her page!

Cheers,

Teddy