Author's Note: Thank you so much to all my reviewers! To answer wickedgreene13's question: yes I am a Christian (even though some pretty terrible things happen to people in my stories-God is there)! I think it is important for all people to have a belief system and I firmly believe that all of these characters would have, especially when they all put stock in Elbereth and the Valar and the One, Iluvatar, who created them all; particularly the Elves. So therefore, their God is not quite ours, as Tolkien stated, but is similar except he is one person, not a triune God. :O) Anyway, that might help those of you who were wondering about the religious vibe my stories give off! As always, thanks for reviewing and asking questions, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

Aragorn sat back on his heels from Faramir's motionless body, looking more tired than Arwen had ever seen him. He was weaving back and forth, trying to steady himself, and she knelt behind him, wrapping an arm around his chest and pressing him back against her to support him.

"You are tired, my Lord," she whispered, and he laid his head back against her shoulder.

"There…is no time," he replied, but she could see his hands shaking in their exhaustion. This long ride, this strain to save Faramir…had it been too much?

"You need to rest," she said, "now. Lie down here."

"Arwen—"

"There will be no discussion." Her answer was short, and he could not fight her. With help from her, she laid him down on the bed that had been placed for Éowyn, sitting there beside him and resting a hand upon his face.

"An hour," he whispered, his exhaustion plain, "no more." She ignored him, refusing to respond.

"How is Faramir?" she asked as his eyes closed at her touch.

"Healing…slowly," he replied softly. "There is nothing more I can do for him at the moment. He will heal, but it will be slow…he was close, Arwen. Éowyn was right to have feared for him. Had we been an hour later…" He shook his head. "Thank Ilúvatar we did not rest as we intended." He opened his eyes again and met hers. "Éowyn is resting?"

"With Annî. She said that there were many dead where they found Faramir. Enguina and Gimli were with them, but have not returned. Clearly, they set out after those who took him. Glosbrethil and Dwimorisen were also wounded; I was thinking perhaps that I would go down and visit with them at some point, though I think you would learn more than me." She gave him a smile that he returned.

"I will speak with them."

"Éowyn also said that there was an elf who was discovered alive though wounded as well. He is being held captive. We should certainly look into that before we make any decisions about which direction we are headed in as well."

"Why attack Faramir and Legolas?" he asked rhetorically. "It does not appear to make sense, but they must have some motive for taking Legolas and not Faramir. He would be quite a prize as well, unless they did not know who he was, or his importance."

"The Rangers had said there were men and elves," she added. "More trouble from Mirkwood?"

Aragorn gave a sigh. "What is going on in Thranduil's woods these days? I thought Eryn Lasgalen was a peaceful place now. I am going to have a talk with Thranduil when he comes to Minas Tirith for the wedding." Arwen was silent for a moment, and he covered the hand that was on his cheek. "Worry not, Arwen. Everything is going to be fine."

"I said that to Éowyn several moments ago. You want to know what she said?"

"No…she told you that because we are here, everything is going to be fine."

"She must have told you this before."

"She believes…and she is probably right. We will find Enguina and Gimli, and then find Legolas." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I am feeling better; I think I should talk with this elf they took as prisoner."

She looked at him sternly. "Aragorn, you look as though you have aged fifty years in the last few hours. This is a time for resting…not running off to interrogate someone."

He gave her a sheepish smile. "I feel as though I have aged fifty years."

"Perhaps you should sleep for fifty years," she teased, and stroked his cheek again. "But I know I will be lucky to get an hour out of you."

"Yes, you will be lucky if I take that much time. I am not certain we have the time to waste, Arwen. If Faramir was this badly wounded, there is no certainty that they have not injured Legolas just as severely. Never mind what is happening to Enguina and Gimli right now; where they might be lost."

She gave him a little smirk. "I know Enguina does not have much of a sense of direction, but when it comes to Legolas, things may go much better. Gimli is a decent tracker, is he not? Though…I am worried about them," she said. "You need to rest."

"Arwen—"

"Let me make this decision for you: I will go down to the stable and check on Brethil and Dwimor; after you have spoken with the elf who has been imprisoned, you will meet me there and talk with the horses, and then we will make our departure. What do you think of that?"

He eyed her knowingly. "I think you are going to let me sleep far too long."

"I will have Galen wake you after an hour, all right?" she promised, her fingers brushing his ear. "Please, Aragorn…you look like…like a…." His lips thinned and she laughed softly. "Like a grumpy dwarf! Do not be so grumpy."

"I do not look like a dwarf," he said, and then his eyes began to close again. "But, I will do as you say…for an hour only." She bent and kissed his brow.

"I will meet you in the stable, beloved. Sleep well." She stood and moved to pass Galen. "Captain—"

"In one hour, my Lady," he said softly. "I will wake him."

She nodded. "Thank you, my Lord." And then she was gone.

Galen stood watch over Faramir a few moments more and was startled when the King swung his legs over the side of the cot and sat upright. Sighing, he stood up and turned towards the door, to find Galen looking at him.

"Uh…my Lord, are you not supposed to be resting?"

"There is too much to do, Galen," he replied, and gave him a knowing look, "and do not waste time questioning me. Where is this elf for me to question? Take me to him."

"Of…of course, my Lord," came Galen's reply. Who was he to get involved between the King and his spouse?

The caverns were lit by torches, so when Aragorn entered into the holding area for the elf it was rather dark. Aragorn's night vision was not as keen as an elf's so he could not make out his face, but he could see him lying against the wall. Galen had told him on the way that the elf had not tried to escape and had not put up a fight in the least, but he was also silent, and the lack of words was irritating to him. Aragorn thought that perhaps the elf's wounds might have been too terrible for him to move, but the elf raised his head as soon as the man entered, and though he could not completely make out his face he stepped closer to him.

Just as Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, the elf opened his, surprise evident in his voice. "Well! I certainly never expected to see you ever again. Our paths simply were not meant to cross again."

Aragorn peered at him. "You have me at a disadvantage, then, sir, as I simply do not recognize you. I come to speak with you about the taking of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. If you tell me all you know, if you tell me whatever you can about the men who have taken him, the courts of Minas Tirith shall go easier on your sentence."

The elf leaned out into the light so that his face was settled on by the torch's fire. "I had heard stories of you, Aragorn, but I never thought to meet you face to face again. Certainly not as the King of Gondor." Recognition sparked across Aragorn's face, but he crossed his arms, giving the elf a wary look.

"Soronar?" he questioned, and the elf nodded. "What in the name of…" He shook his head and crouched down before the elf. "What are you doing here? You were in Lothlórien last I knew of you, and now you are out with a troop of elves kidnapping your own? What is this all about?" He frowned deeply at him, just as Soronar frowned back. "I would have never thought you would turn on your own people."

"I…I did not," he replied softly. "I will explain what I can. Aragorn, so much has happened since you left Lórien. You know; you were there the night he died."

"The night—" Aragorn began, and then realized to whom he was referring. "Haldir."

"Yes," he answered painfully. "Haldir. When we received word, we were all immensely grieved. The Lord made me Captain, but I could hardly bear the title, or look upon his widow without grief filling my heart. And even with that burden, I might have remained, had the orcs not taken everything from me that I held dear." His eyes were dark with sorrow, and Aragorn closed his eyes.

"Not your son."

"Sindasir and my son were near the Celebrant when they attacked. He died defending her, and she…" he shook his head as Aragorn reached out and clasped his shoulder.

"I am so sorry," he said quietly. He could see her in his mind, golden-haired, softly smiling. She had always been a woman of quiet beauty with a sensitive nature. Arwen would also be grieved to know of her death.

"Without them, life became unbearable," he said. "I resigned, unable to say goodbye to Haldir's wife; so destroyed was she by Haldir's passing that she could find no comfort. She was a shell of who she once was; no matter what we did, she was never to be the same. To look in her eyes, to see my grief mirrored there…it was something I could not bear. With the Lord and Lady already having departed, I set out alone." He frowned and sighed. "I decided I would hunt the orcs, and find the men who were aiding and harboring them…to honor Haldir's death, to destroy his killers.

"And that is what led me here. The elves and men I was traveling with told me we were hunting orcs," he snorted. "When I came upon the man and Legolas, I was shocked, appalled. I knew the Prince had nothing to do with Haldir's death, so I tried to stop them, and was attacked in return, and here I am. The rest of the story from there, I assume you already know."

"You had no hand in it," Aragorn said softly, so full of relief he would never have been able to explain it. Soronar smiled, for the first time in a very long time.

"It has been so long since someone cared about my decisions, my choices," the elf said. "Thank you for worrying for me."

"I will get you out of this prison," Aragorn replied. "You do not belong here. Once you have healed, you may be free to come and go as you wish."

He sighed. "There are more orcs to hunt. Perhaps I shall make my way back to the Misty Mountains."

"I cannot remain long, but I hope that you shall stay here long enough for us to meet upon our journey home," he added. "Soronar, how long have you been traveling with these elves? Do you know them well? What is their motive for taking Legolas?"

"I will tell you what I can about them, though I clearly have been deceived by them through the time I have been with them. I know now that they are searching for a place to call their own, and I suppose that Thranduil's kingdom was a bit tempting for them."

"Thranduil's—they intend to ransom Legolas?" Aragorn said astounded. "Are they mad?"

"Some of them, yes," Soronar answered honestly. "They desire to rule themselves, and they think that King Thranduil will give them a piece of Old Mirkwood. I believe they intend to threaten and hold Legolas until he does."

"They do not know Thranduil, do they?"

Soronar sneered. "Obviously not. I did try to tell them that, once I discovered their plot. Vilyath was the Elven woman who told me the tale. I have no reason to doubt she was telling the truth."

"Vilyath…that name sounds familiar."

"Yes, you would know her at least in name. She is of Rivendell, where you grew up. Several of the others are from Rivendell as well, some from Lórien before your time there, and some from Old Mirkwood before it became the Greenwood again. But the King will not give up his people, his land. Not even for his own son."

"They are headed Northwest then, to Eryn Lasgalen, I assume."

"I would think to agree, but I could not say."

"They will not get far," Aragorn said firmly, grimly. "Arwen and I will overtake them. They will not even have a chance to petition the King, or get anywhere near him, before Legolas is found."

"Arwen is here as well?" he said with surprise, but then smiled. "I am fortunate indeed, if I am to see the Evenstar even for a moment before you depart. And if you are to track them, there are a few things you must know. You are a fine tracker, Aragorn; one of the best, which made many elves envious of your skill when you were in Lórien. There are two dangers that you must be wary of. First, you must watch for the Messenger, for if they think someone is tracking them, they always send out their beast first."

"'The Messenger?' Who is it?"

"You do not wish to meet it," Soronar said with a frown. "Though I never saw him completely, he visited Vilyath several times in the night. When he did come, my skin crawled, so much so that I could never watch his arrival. The others said that he was a great beast, much larger than any horse, with great fangs and a mouth wide enough to grasp a human. Where he came from, I know not, but he is quick to deliver information between our group and our leader."

"Your leader does not ride with you? That must mean they would be taking Legolas to him."

"That would be fair to say," Soronar agreed. "He stays a safe distance from the orcs we have been hunting. I have been there a few times to meet him; it is not known on any map, north of Mordor and east of Eryn Lasgalen, but not as far north as the Lonely Mountain. Londeglai is its name."

"Who is this leader, Soronar? You say he is searching for land, a place to make a home?"

"From the words of Vilyath, yes. I never knew that about him; I never knew that was his intention. You knew him once, Aragorn, though you might not recognize him now, as he has been scarred by something he chooses not to speak of. He is an elf, long ago banished from Lórien, for something…" he shook his head. "I knew nothing of it then, and I know nothing of it now. I only remember trying to find him some forty years ago. He was a friend of Haldir's at the time, but something must have happened that the Lord had instructed us to hunt him. We did not ask questions."

Aragorn felt as though a spear had been driven through his spine. "A friend of Haldir's that was banished? Forty years ago?"

"Yes, you might remember him."

"B…Bragolaur," Aragorn whispered, his tongue getting trapped around the word.

"I see that you do," Soronar nodded, and Aragorn felt his stomach plummet through the floor of the cave. He felt physically sick, closing his eyes. "He…is a bit unstable. The few times I met him, he seemed a bit out of it. I never had much to do with him, as I was already busy hunting orcs. But you most certainly will recognize him by the scars on his face. They even tell stories of him."

"He will…pay for his crimes," Aragorn muttered grimly. "Soronar, what else can you tell me? My urgency is complete if what you say about this elf being Bragolaur is true. The stain of his existence is much darker than you could understand."

"I do not think there is anything more I know that would be useful; nor would a trail drawn out to Londeglai be any easier for an excellent tracker such as yourself to find aside from following theirs."

Aragorn reached forward and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Soronar, how I wish we had met under different circumstances, but I must away. I will instruct Galen to release you and to provide you with a horse so that you may travel where you please. I am afraid that Arwen will not have the pleasure of your company, nor you, hers; at least not before our return."

"That is a shame," he replied, "but I understand your need for hurry. I wish you both happiness, and success and speed in your quest, Aragorn. A final word: it would be good for you to remember that you should not underestimate the power and madness of one man or his army."

"I will not be overconfident," he said as he got to his feet.

In surprise to both of them, the door burst open and Galen entered, Aragorn spinning to look at him. "My Lord," he said urgently, "you must come at once!"

"Is it Faramir?" he asked, thinking that it could not be, of course, he had known that Faramir was slowly recovering, out of danger.

"No, my Lord, it is the Queen! She was attacked in the stable—"

"What?" he asked, unable to wrap his mind around the words coming from the man's mouth. "Is she—"

"I do not know, Lord," he replied worriedly. "Word came from down below—"

"Go, Aragorn," Soronar added quickly. "There will be another time for us to talk."

"I will see you are set free," he said, barely able to think of anything but Arwen. "Namárië!" The man disappeared from sight almost immediately, breaking to a jog through the caverns with Galen close on his heels.

"There are two dead Rangers in the stable, they said," Galen told him quickly. "I cannot believe our own men would do such a thing."

"They were able to tell you that," Aragorn growled a bit irrationally, "but they were unable to communicate if my wife was hurt?"

"I…" he drifted off, guiltily. "Forgive me, my Lord; that was more important. I am sorry."

"Yes," he said, still irritated, "it was." He tried to move on, tried not to worry as he reached to Arwen, but it was very difficult. He felt her; at least she was safe. "The two Rangers, were they our men, or were they spies for those who have taken Legolas?"

Galen shook his head as they jogged along. "I am afraid I do not know, my Lord."

As they rounded the corner to make their way down through the caverns, Aragorn could hear the whinnies of the horses echoing through the walls. They were anxious, and their anxiety made them travel with even more speed, as Aragorn maneuvered people out of his way to reach the stable faster.

Moments before…

Arwen entered the stable entirely on her own, the Ranger who had shown her the way leaving her to visit the horses by herself. Asfaloth whinnied immediately, sensing her before the others, and soon they were all greeting her. Upon seeing Dwimor and Brethil, she was appalled at how wounded they had been in the fight. Carefully, she inspected each puncture and scrape and made sure they had fresh hay and water. Clearly they had been taken care of and were still under care, but it upset her that the two of them were trapped when Faramir was so ill and Legolas was still missing.

"Do not worry, my boys," she said softly, stroking Brethil's forehead. "Enguina and Gimli are already hunting, and Aragorn and I will be soon."

"My Lady, are you on your own down here?" asked a voice from the aisle. She lifted her head to see one of the Rangers standing in the center, and she slipped out from under the rope keeping Brethil in his stall.

"Yes, my Lord," she said softly. "I enjoy keeping time with the horses. May I help you?"

"Clearly, they enjoy your attention," the man responded, ignoring her question. "The two of them have been seriously wounded and though they have received much care, it is going to take some time before they recover."

"Do you know when the Prince was taken?" she asked. "How long have the Lady Enguina and Lord Gimli been traveling after them?"

"A few days," he said softly, turning his head sideways to look at her. "What is your intention, my Lady? Do you and the King expect to be traveling shortly?"

She glanced away down the barn aisle at a snort from Asfaloth, who was watching her with interest. "I would expect we will be. Prince Faramir is on the mend, thank Ilúvatar; we will be following the tracks as soon as possible. The King is speaking with the captive from the attack—"

"The elf?" he asked, and there was some surprise in his eyes as he spoke. That was interesting to Arwen. "He is speaking to the elf?"

"As far as I understood, the captive was an elf, yes," she replied, and then she changed the subject, unsure why she was suddenly so uncomfortable. "And what is your name, my Lord? Have you been in this post long?"

He was clearly distracted as he answered, trying to smile at her, "Kel. My name is Kel. Let me show you around the rest of the stable, shall I? This is your first visit to Henneth Annûn?"

"Yes," she replied, and turned to walk with him away from the horses, moving slowly as their conversation continued for several minutes. They continued to walk down the aisle, heading towards the open air and the moonlight. "Henneth Annûn is quite beautiful, and it is a lovely evening. It would be nice to have time to enjoy it."

"Oh, I am sure you could find some time tonight," he replied as they neared the end of the aisle where there was a saddled mount. Kel glanced over at her looking at her in the moonlight. The moon was not full any longer, but it would still be beautiful for a few nights. He watched her, admired her, and it was pretty obvious what he was doing. "Why do we not step outside for a moment?" he asked, his voice soft and suddenly just off her shoulder. "I am sure the view can be better seen—"

"My husband is meeting me inside the stable," she said, staring up into the night sky, a bit unnerved by his attention. "It would be good for me to prepare the horses as we will be leaving shortly—"

Suddenly, she found herself pressed back against the entrance to the cave; it was such a sudden move that it momentarily stunned her long enough for him to press his face towards her ear. "What is your hurry, Highness?" he murmured, holding her tightly to the wall. "The night is young, and there is certainly enough time to accomplish anything that you might…desire. I have some ideas."

Astounded by his boldness, she shoved her hands forward, hitting his chest and pushing him back from her; even a foot was enough to get a breath. "What do you think you are doing?" she snapped as his hands came up defensively, to ward against danger from her. "Get your hands off me."

"All right, my Lady, all right," he whispered.

Arwen pushed off from the wall, flashing a glare at him as she glanced into the barn. "Do not touch me again," she said fiercely, and then she turned her back on him. "My husband would—"

Clearly, turning her back on him was a mistake. She gasped as she felt his hands on her hips as he tugged her backwards into his body, sliding an arm through both of hers in the crooks of her elbows, catching her tightly. "Taking the Queen captive might be worth it," he slithered in her ear, and she jerked forward, lashing out with her nails and trying to yank her arms free. "Ah," he hissed, wincing as she clawed him through his tunic, "you are a feisty one. I should have known that." He reached up and took her face in his hand; she snapped at him and he snorted.

She felt the impact of the cave against the side of her head before she ever saw it coming. She hit so hard her teeth rattled; stunned for a moment, he leaned her against it and pressed in close to her neck. "We will have no screaming, no noises; no, no, none of that. You come quietly or I will have to be sure you and your husband do not follow us. I do not want to have to hurt you—"

She wrenched forward suddenly, breaking out with one arm and tearing at his face and shoving him back from her as she made it around the edge of the cavern. "Brego!" she called, just before a crushing arm fell across her chest and dragged her against him, one of his hands reaching down and unbuckling her belt; she knew what he was doing, causing her to lose her sword. The big bay reared and whinnied loudly, flinging his feet at the wood of his stall as Asfaloth reared and struck out with his front feet as well.

In the meantime, Arwen lashed out, attacking him with her booted feet, striking his shins and ankles with crippling force, enough that with more leverage she might have broken both of his legs. Her nails dug into his arms and sides with a fury she seldom used. He cried out in her ear and then his leg finally gave out; he swung sideways and threw all his weight forward, crashing down on top of her. For the second time, Arwen's head hit solid stone, the air crushing from her lungs. Everything before her eyes went dark, but she fought against the unconsciousness, the dulling of her senses; she seemed to be underwater. He rolled her onto her back, pressing himself down onto her, snapping something that she could not understand and she could hear through the fog the snapping of wood, the pounding of hooves.

The world spun, but she opened her eyes, and had to close them again immediately feeling as though she was going to heave. He had her wrists in a hand above her head, holding them together; she could still hear the horses screaming…her sword belt slipped, and she heard it hit stone. She finally filled her lungs with air and felt him try and drag her to her feet.

"Get up before someone comes," he whispered, and she could almost see the sneer on his face. Despite her fatigue, the dizziness, and the fact that her head might roll from her shoulders at any moment, she yanked on her hands, and he yanked back against her—a tug of war on her wrists.

Anger flooded her, and he caught a glimpse of her face, but she brought a leg up so fast between them that he had no time to react. Lodging her knee in his groin she slammed him hard and shoved him from her, but her left wrist made a nasty snapping noise as he was forced to release her. He rolled across the stone and into a haystack, and she rolled onto her knees, cursing from the pain, her eyes smarting with tears as wave after wave of dizziness swamped her. She weaved back and forth as the world seemed to do the same, trying to use her good hand to steady herself. Sitting back on her feet, she carefully looked around for Hadhafang, but it was a bit out of her reach as a whinny of alarm came to her ears.

There was a crash, and she whirled about, a spasm of pain shooting through her upper arm as she just avoided being run through, rolling off to the side and then to her feet again; blood splashed the floor from the five-inch slice in her arm. She had nothing with which to defend herself.

"My Lady!"

The cry came from near the doorway; finally, someone had come down to see what all the commotion was about. Kel rounded on the man immediately, forgetting about immobilizing her for the moment and now so worried about his own life that he attacked the man, lunging across the space as the Ranger lunged for him, a furious exchange of blows taking place.

The door of Brego's stall exploded outward and Kel fell back, trying to escape his flying hooves. Rearing, the horse shot forward towards the man, clubbing him on the left shoulder. The Ranger slashed out at Kel, catching him across the stomach and spraying blood to the floor. Kel whirled away and then he was on Arwen, lashing out with his hand and catching her in the throat as she threw her head back to avoid the strike to the face. She dropped to her knees, unable to breathe, and Kel swung back with his sword, stabbing the man through the chest. The Ranger fell with a gurgle to the stones just as Asfaloth broke free from his stall. Brego was rearing again and whinnying maniacally.

She fell forward onto her hand…and her fingers struck Hadhafang's sheath. Drawing the sword, she slashed it around, just in time to catch his blow. She held him off long enough to get her feet under her, and then he yanked back, trying to strike at her again. It did not work, and she rolled away, pain firing through her wrist as she came to her feet a foot away.

With a sword in her hand, even dizzy and in pain, the man must have known she was a serious adversary, along with the two horses that were bearing down on him in the aisle. They battled for only a few more moments before Kel knocked her backwards into the oncoming Asfaloth, and bolted for the entryway of the cave. Snatching the reins of the sorrel tied there, he leapt into the saddle and wheeled his horse away from them.

She had no time; she could either let him get away, or stop him. She heard men yelling at the top of her lungs as if in far distance behind her, but instead of waiting, she reacted. Snatching her bow from the saddle, she knocked an arrow and took aim, wetness pouring down her face. Her wrist fired pain through her arm; holding the bow was nearly incomprehensible but somehow she managed, the arrow was loosed and she heard it make the sickening thud of a true shot. Dead, Kel fell from the back of the horse as it raced off into the woods.

The adrenaline was gone; her hands were shaking so badly, she was shaking so badly she could barely stand upright; she was going to be sick on the stones right there. Turning, dropping the bow, she somehow tangled the fingers of her right hand in Asfaloth's mane. She leaned heavily against him, her face pressed to his neck, her whole world slowly revolving as the dim voices grew louder. The Rangers were coming, and then they were beside her, but she barely registered them.

"Send for the King!"

"My Lady! My Lady!"

"Is she all right?"

"She is wounded!"

"Send for the King!"

"Dear Eru, her head!"

"My Lady, can you hear me?"

Of course I can hear you…please, not so loud…Her ears were ringing, her head was spinning, and if she opened her mouth to speak she was definitely going to retch. Her knees were shaking at that point, but she could not will herself to let Asfaloth go; she heard Brego whinny loudly, stamping the ground as the Rangers tried to lead him into a stall. She felt hands on her as they sat her down on a nearby hay bale, holding her upright, still trying to get her to respond to them. Arwen had no idea how much time had passed, but before she heard the yelling of the Rangers to signify the King had arrived, she felt the brush of his spirit against hers.

"My Lord—"

"Stand back, Tandaarin," Aragorn stated, and the irritation in his voice was clear, "let her breathe." He knelt down before Arwen, but she did not open her eyes yet; she could not, but she could hear Asfaloth and Brego whuffling to him. She knew what they would say, and sure enough, he was listening to them. His warm hands enveloped hers, but he snapped his head back to look at Brego. "What?" The horse whinnied and scratched the stone with his foot. The man turned back to study Arwen, growling low in his throat, "I need a blanket."

Within seconds, one was handed to him, and he wrapped it around her upper body; she was shaking, and he did not think that was because she was cold. He lifted a hand and pressed it to her bloodied face, taking a seat beside her on the hay.

"My Lord," came Galen's voice from behind him, and he took the cloth offered him and carefully held it against the wound on her head. He could hear her breathing shallowly, and it worried him. She could feel his anxiety for her, but she was so focused on trying to collect herself, her scattered thoughts, that for a moment, she forgot even where she was. Oh…Ithilien…Enguina…Legolas…right…

"Galen," Aragorn said, glancing up at him, "Brego and Asfaloth are all right?"

"The men said they were fine, just loose in the barn," he replied. "How is she?"

"I will see to her," Aragorn said. "If you could bring some water, that would be helpful."

"It will be done, my Lord," he said and stood up, narrowing his eyes at the men around. "You heard the King, back to your posts! And we need to send out a rider to catch Kel's runaway horse and bring back his body. "

"Us…" Arwen whispered, and Aragorn's head snapped up. They were the first words she had spoken, and even Galen turned back towards her. She swallowed hard, trying desperately to stop the spinning. "Kel said us…there was more than one of them here."

Galen turned and shouted to his men. "Search for any more traitors," he snapped, "even if we must question every man in this place! And let us bear out Jarnet with honor; he fought valiantly."

It took them only a few minutes to be left, if not alone then with minimal supervision, with the water that Galen had supplied, and Aragorn laid his hand against Arwen's face with gentle pressure. "Arwen…look at me," he said, and he heard her take in a ragged breath before she attempted to force her unfocused eyes on his. They were cloudy, and she blinked to take away the blur that she found was all she could see. He did not even attempt to hide his worry from her. "You…hit your head."

"You are Aragorn…" she muttered softly, "and I am Arwen." He chuckled softly. "I know who we are." In her blindness, she saw him take his hand away from her face and that it was covered with blood. "I thought I was sweating," she added, her voice sounding distant, fighting another wave of nausea. She wanted to lay her head in her hands and hold it, but they were shaking worse than the rest of her, her head and wrist pained something awful. "My head…"

"You hit it twice?" he asked softly, wiping her face and the blood with a cool, wet rag. "Can you see clearly?"

"Not…clearly," she said, fighting the nausea again, "but I can see." She was quiet for a moment while he worked. "Are we alone?" she asked softly.

"Yes, we are alone," he replied. "You are pale; are you feeling ill?"

"Very," she whispered. "I feel as though a troll leapt onto my head and spun me around thirty times in both directions."

"You worry me." He slipped the blanket from her shoulder so he could see the slice in her arm, but his eyes caught on the torn tunic she wore. "You…fought him? You shot him."

"Yes," she replied, trying to collect thoughts that seemed as scattered as the seeds of a dandelion. "He was fleeing us…he was hoping they would not be discovered…Legolas's captors…that we would not follow them…he hoped to keep us behind."

"Keep talking, Arwen," he added, noticing that at the end of her sentence her voice drifted away. "You cannot sleep just yet, but you are definitely going to sleep. What else did you hurt? Does anything else ache?"

"My wrist," Arwen replied as steadily as she could, but the tremor in her voice could not deter his worry, "and my head." She felt him press his strength into her. "Stop that," she said immediately, "you have not even rested an hour. You cannot heal me."

He felt the bones of her wrist, discovering no break, but definite swelling. He wrapped the rest of the wet cloth over it as he finished tying a bandage around her arm. As much as he hated to admit it, there was no way he could heal her. Brego whinnied, and he looked back at Arwen's tunic. "You are right, of course…I have not rested, but now you must—"

"I must?" she asked, and she still had the wherewithal to sound a bit miffed. "You were collapsing on the bed beside Faramir, and I need to lie down?"

"Arwen, if I could be more amused about this situation, I would laugh at the simple fact that you are speaking as though you have consumed a ridiculous amount of drink. However, this only serves to worry me, as it means you may have been seriously injured. And Brego tells me—"

"I am all right," she interrupted, but she was rapidly blinking her eyes to clear them again.

Aragorn was silent for a moment, and then he whispered the question, "Did he touch you?"

"No," she replied after another moment of silence between them. "He was trying to take me with him; he did not want us following him…" she added faintly.

"You are safe now, and he is most definitely dead by your hand. I am sorry I let you come down here alone; I should have thought they might leave someone in hiding to prevent others from following them."

"Please, stop blaming yourself," she muttered in reply. "You could not have known, and it is irritating to listen to you belittle yourself."

Aragorn smirked at her words as he leaned her gently into him, but finding her heart pounding in her chest sobered him quickly; the man, Kel, had frightened her more than she wanted to communicate to him. He held her close, thinking of another woman who had not been so strong, had not been so lucky, and was now hunting the man who had hurt her. He found himself nearly physically ill at the thought of what might happen if Bragolaur found her first. Ilúvatar, save us all…

She sighed softly and then gave a bitter laugh. "I really may lose my dinner," she whispered with a groan. Gently, he rubbed her back and stroked her hair.

"Take deep breaths and breathe slowly," he instructed her.

"My head is like a drum; I can barely think straight."

"You need to close your eyes for a while."

"So do you."

"So do I," he admitted. "What say you to this: we will sit here together for an hour to gather our strength, and then we will have to ride."

"Faramir is still doing well?" she asked him, and he nodded.

"As far as I know, but we will look in on them both before we leave." He kissed her forehead as she leaned into him. "Close your eyes and try to sleep. I will follow you."

It only took her a few seconds; she was exhausted from the encounter and her head was pounding. He felt her fall heavily asleep, and then he lifted his head to look into the faces of the horses, now calmly munching on their hay. Brego stamped his foot again.

"I know," he said. "It is weighing on her, but she said she is all right, and I am not about to fight with her over it. We have too little time already, and there is much to be done."

"{Going to be well, she is?}" asked Asfaloth worriedly.

"We will be riding out sooner than we should for two people in our condition, but…what choice have we, friends? I cannot allow Legolas to be held captive." He looked to Brethil and Dwimor. "What can you tell me that I have not already heard?"

"{The attack, terrible,}" nickered Dwimor sadly.

"Did they intend to seriously wound Faramir? What about Legolas?"

"{He was wounded, this I know,}" replied Brethil. "{He went down fighting; terrified we were, in pain.}" He looked guilty. "{Nothing I could do.}"

Brego snorted loudly. "{That is the Prince! Fight till death!}"

"Peace, Brego. You did everything you could," Aragorn said. "There was nothing more you could do; to remain would have meant your deaths. These men are murderers, traitors—"

"{Prince of White Tower?}" asked Dwimor.

"He is going to be all right, though it will take him some time to recover."

"{Worried, I am,}" Brethil said, sighing. "{About the Prince of Green Leaves.}"

"{Home we will bring him,}" Asfaloth interrupted.

"{Easy for you the path to find. The dwarf and the elf—}" Brethil snorted, "{For them, things not so easy.}"

"I am worried as well," Aragorn said softly. "What I have heard of this elf is not good, and his history is not good either. I know where they are going, and though I do not know much of the place, it does not sound as though it will be a comfort. Soronar, the elf that was found, gave me the location of this Londeglai, and I am afraid Enguina and Gimli shall reach it far before we do, which shall mean that they shall catch up to them before we do…which can mean nothing good." All of the horses tossed their heads as one in agreement. "I know of no shortened ways to get there."

"{That far north, I have never been,}" Brego stated.

"{But carry you swiftly until we reach them we will,}" added Asfaloth.

"{Swift they are, and cunning. Not know they are upon you until it is too late,}" Dwimor told him softly. "{Safeguard Queen of White Tower.}"

Brego snorted darkly. "{Quicker had I been, death I would have brought him.}"

"{Death he deserved, laying hands on my Queen of White Tower,}" Asfaloth insisted.

"You are right, of course, and I will safeguard her," Aragorn added, resting his cheek against Arwen's head and feeling exhaustion setting in. He needed desperately to rest, but he was still worried for her. "Perhaps I should not wake her at all; her vision is not well, and neither is she. Perhaps she should not ride and remain here with Éowyn and Faramir."

Brego whinnied, peeling back his upper lip in laughter. "{After ten years, I wonder what you have learned of her! More angry you would make her than a thousand Wargs if leave her you did. Ride after you anyway, or kill you upon your return she would…and let her, I would.}"

Aragorn grinned as Brego stuffed his nose into his hay pile, and he asked, "Is there anything else?"

The horses were silent for a moment. "{From the east, a storm brews,}" Dwimor added, and then he, too, began munching his hay. Asfaloth tossed his head.

"{Watch this storm we must.}"

Aragorn nodded, and he wanted to hear whatever else his friends had to say…

…but he was just so tired that his eyes were closed and he was out in half another moment.