A/N Not as long of a chapter as most, especially recently, but maybe a little bit of a...respite?

In another news, SPIN CYCLE IS REPAIRED. My laundry is back on track.

I'm also being bombarded by pollen. Whyyyyy.

God I missed Aragorn so much. Like with her. Together. Not separated and sad. And like...happy instead of traumatized. Like a lot of the Aragorn stuff recently has been very poetically positioned and relevant to the main timeline but like...

TIME FOR SOME HAPPY.

Southern Gondor was hot and dry, except directly by the coast where it was hot and humid. The wind coming off the sea was thick with salt and when she laid out on blankets on the sand, Josephine felt like a lizard trying to soak it all in.

Northward, they could just see the tips of Dol Amroth around the hills, but their camp was far out of sight of anyone except the soldiers that accompanied them. The strategically placed umbrellas blocked their blanket from view of the camp and they'd made sure to set up well out of earshot so they'd feel like they had some privacy.

With the War a year over now, Southern Gondor had been quiet. Aragorn's pardoning of the Southrons who's land met at their southern border, had kept a tense but amicable peace between their countries. Despite that, Anduril still sat with their things on the blanket beside her and she was still within a hand reach of her sword. Their world, safe from war now or not, still wasn't one either of them walked around in unarmed.

There was a reason Halbarad shadowed her steps, why traveling without guards wasn't even a consideration. Josephine still hadn't gotten used to that aspect of her station yet. It was comforting back in the day, but the longer she spent settling in the more she missed her old independence. Now any journey came with a multitude of plans, contingencies for danger, and a ridiculous amount of planning on the part of Ciril who seemed to know more about what was expected of her than she did.

The long awaited honeymoon slash royal tour of Southern Gondor had been as far away from an exception to those rules than anything else. The ship, the servants, the soldiers. Then the feasts and the introductions and the dances. She couldn't deny the thrill of seeing more of Middle-Earth and while she loathed parts of the formal events, each feast led to Aragorn's hand in hers as he led her around the dances they'd spent so many hours practicing. Now that they'd gotten more familiar with them, they were able to spend less time remembering the steps and more time enjoying each other's company.

At the end of the day, for all the parts of it she might have disliked, they were rarely more than annoyances. The privilege of their place in the world was immense, greater than almost anyone in Middle-Earth. For the rest of her life she'd live in comfort, without worrying about food or warmth or money. They'd been in a deluge of official events for days, but once it had come to their scheduled time away, they'd had to do nothing to make it happen.

Josephine couldn't believe she'd been so lucky.

It would've been enough to have him, crown or no. She would have stayed even if his story had actually ended with him abdicating the throne and them living simply and quietly. It wouldn't have mattered to her where.

But it didn't end that way. She was given him, and given a life where she would be safe and comfortable and able to pursue the rebuilding of their kingdom from its ruined foundations.

It felt like more luck than she deserved.

And for what felt like the hundredth time, that's what she wrote in the leather-bound journal on her lap. Recording things seemed like a duty now, without computers and ballpoint pens to give everyone and anyone the ability to track history. Somebody needed to record things about her life, it might as well come from the horse's mouth.

Aragorn was on his back beside her, more of a lizard in the sun than she was. She thought he was asleep until she felt his hand brush down her back with a limp sort of laziness. When she turned to him his eyes were still closed but his lips were set in a content smile.

Setting the book and quill aside she capped the inkwell and leaned down on her elbow, resting her hand on his bare chest. "Yes, my love?"

This made his smile grow into a smirk and the hand he'd used to get her attention found a home stroking her hair. "Of what do you write today?"

"The same as always." She did find herself revisiting certain things on a frequent basis. "I think it helps me sort things out a little better each time. Writing things out came highly recommended for one's peace of mind back home."

"Mmm." He hummed. "I am pleased it brings you comfort."

He was, she could tell that much, but he was leading towards something and playing with her to get there. "But?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, not that he could see it, he seemed to refuse to open his eyes and disturb his dozing until he had to.

"But," He continued. "I find myself unable to rest, for that which brings me comfort is preoccupied with her work."

Josephine laughed. "You were asleep."

"For a time." He finally opened his eyes and slowly rolled towards her, encouraging her to end up underneath him on the blanket. He kissed her slowly, drawing her into him with a hand on the small of her back. "And in that time I came to miss you."

Josephine couldn't care less about the sentence she'd stopped in the middle of in her book. There wasn't a thing she could be doing right now that she'd mind him interrupting. "Well we can't let that stand." She added on as she drew him back in to kiss her again. "What will soothe your heart?"

"My name on your lips," He began as he kissed her neck. "as if it is the only name you know, the only word you can find." As his lips paused at her collar bone his hand took up the journey towards the hem of her skirt. "And then your name will come to mine, the only name I shall ever bear in my heart."

She gasped as his hand found where it was leading and with the ocean as their only witness, Aragorn was given what he asked.

Beorn had given them supplies and as many ponies as he could spare to see them to the edge of Mirkwood, but several of the company still had to double up and Josephine was back to sharing Gandalf's horse. It was probably better for her that way anyway, then she could put her energy towards bearing the ride and holding onto him instead of managing the horse herself.

Her pack was strapped to Oin's pony and her weapons had become a point of contention between her and Thorin, who'd strapped them to his saddle.

He was, rightly so, worried about her having to carry the weight and it shifting constantly throughout the day while they rode.

She was, also rightly so, worried about not having a weapon near her if orcs showed up.

The compromise ended with her sword still hanging from his saddle, while Aragorn's knife was strapped to the saddlebag right behind her right thigh where it wouldn't get in the way.

It was something at least, and it wasn't as if she had the range of motion to even draw her sword much less use it if they were attacked.

Beorn saw them off, but Josephine had the feeling they were only saying goodbye to his human form. The ride began well enough, it was certainly uncomfortable but not something she couldn't stand. But as the day wore on it crept from uncomfortable to a droning ache that made her arms go numb. When Gandalf noticed he called for a rest, not giving a reason, it wasn't like the company couldn't figure it out.

Breathing easier now that they'd come to a stop, she glanced up at the sun and frowned. They'd barely been riding for two hours. Unless the ponies needed a rest, which given they were Beorn's and were strong enough to bear two dwarves at a time she didn't think they did, they weren't making good time. "We're trying to outrun wargs and stay on schedule, we can't stop every two hours."

"Nor can we have you worsening. We will keep to both your strength and our speed as best we can."

Kili appeared at her right and held out his hand. "Lady Josephine, come down and rest for a bit now."

Sat in the shade with a waterskin she chewed on a piece of willow bark until Thorin decided they'd stopped long enough and had to keep moving. This time she sat in front of Gandalf, potentially more uncomfortable, but braced against his chest she wasn't going to fall off if she passed out either. Another compromise between her condition and their urgency.

It was going to be several very, very long days.