They walked together down the corridors, Elrond with one hand placed unobtrusively in the small of his son’s back to steady his steps if needed, careful that his support should go unnoticed by those who passed them on their way.  At the doors to the King’s apartment they paused, hearing the soft murmur of conversation within. Aragorn turned to his father with a small smile. Both of them recognised the voices of his brothers.

Elrond shrugged slightly. ‘Where else would they be?’ Then he motioned to the guard who pushed open the heavy doors.

The voices fell silent as they entered. The twins looked up, surprise, relief, and a touch of guilt flickering swiftly across identical faces, and for all their loose-limbed elegance, sprawled at their ease across the cushioned benches, neither their father nor brother missed the minute tensions that gave them away. Aragorn sighed. Where else would they be, indeed, and who else would they have been discussing but him? Then another figure entered his line of sight and his breath caught in his throat.

Arwen stood by the doors to their bedchamber watching them, her dark hair spilling loose over her shoulders.  Every time he saw her she seemed even more beautiful, more unattainable, yet undeniably his in a way he could not fathom.  He gazed at her in silence, and caught off-guard by his own reaction and hemmed in by the presence of his family, he could not find the words to speak.

Elrond sensed his son’s dilemma and quietly withdrew, leaving his children alone. Neither the King nor the Queen noticed as he left, still locked into immobility by their first sight of each other after so long. Elladan turned to his twin, amusement twinkling in his eyes. Elrohir grinned back, pushing himself upright with an exaggerated sigh as his brother made it to his feet. Together they walked towards the door, slipping between the love-struck pair, but as Elladan’s hand closed on the door handle Aragorn’s head turned towards him and they stopped.

Two pairs of grey eyes locked intently on the bedraggled form of their younger brother, though the youngest looked many years the oldest now. Once such intense scrutiny had caused him discomfort, but grown now into greater experience with elves Aragorn no longer felt stripped of defences under their ageless gaze. Not defenceless, but still speechless.  His own forced revelations were too fresh to frame the apology he owed his brothers for his rejection of their care and companionship, and though some burdens had been lifted from his shoulders not all such worries could be erased with simple words. There remained much the three of them needed to work out for themselves, to adjust to the changes in their lives. He did not wish in that moment to utter some platitude to smooth over wounds in their relationship, only to promise that it mattered to him to do so.

In the end it was Elladan who broke the silence, tipping his head towards Arwen as he spoke. ‘Our sister is growing impatient, Estel,’ he said with a grin. ‘When she has finished scolding you, Elrohir and I will be glad to patch you up. We’ll be here if you need us, anytime,’ he added after a pause. He turned to leave, hooking an arm over his twin’s shoulders, all three of them overcome with the sudden urge to look anywhere but at each other.  When their eyes met again, Aragorn’s bright gaze conveyed his unspoken thanks. The twins nodded in acknowledgement, both together sketching slight, teasing bows as they left. Some lessons they had learned also.

Aragorn smiled as the door closed behind them, turning back to his wife who was still watching him without expression. He grimaced, eyeing her warily. ‘Am I going to need their assistance?’

Arwen said nothing, her eyes travelling slowly over her husband’s weary, rumpled form. Concern flickered in her eyes as she took in the bloodstains on his tunic, and the exhausted slump of his shoulders. Then her gaze settled on his face and she smiled. ‘I think you might survive.’

Aragorn made a strangled noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. Swiftly he closed the distance between them, overwhelmed by emotion and needing to feel her closeness. She allowed herself to be gathered into a tight embrace, burying her head in his shoulder.

‘I have missed you, my love,’ she whispered, feeling the tremors that ran through his frame at her touch.

Aragorn sighed, teasing his fingers through her hair. ‘I am sorry I have been gone so long. I should not have left you alone.’

‘I was not alone, Estel,’ she answered. ‘But that is not what I meant.’ Huge liquid eyes held his for a long moment as she looked deep into his heart. ‘Are you ready now to love me as you promised you would?’

He let his forehead to rest against hers, unable to answer at once. ‘I have always loved you,’ he said at last as he held her tightly to him. ‘Always.’ The word was spoken with such fierce insistence that Arwen could not help but smile.

‘I know, Estel. Perhaps instead I should have asked, are you ready yet to love yourself?’

He tensed and began to pull away, but she grasped him fiercely in her turn and prevented his retreat. ‘Please Arwen,’ he begged. ‘Please don’t do this.’

‘Why not? Is it right that you should discuss your fears for us with my brothers and my father but not with me?’ She released her grip on him and took a step back. ‘If my decision troubles you, it is I who should reassure you.’

‘Ah, but I did not wish for you to be troubled also,’ Aragorn replied, watching her sadly. ‘If the fault was in my understanding, why should you suffer for it?’

‘And what is your understanding?’ she challenged him, sudden fire flashing in her eyes. ‘Mine is simple. I love you, and that is enough for me.’

‘And I love you, so much.’ He drew her close. ‘Do not mistake me. It may have taken me longer but I understand now, that our love is both triumphant, and a tragedy, and that it must be both. To see it otherwise would be to diminish the wonder of it.’

‘A tragedy it may be for one of us,’ Arwen replied softly, her lips brushing his cheek. ‘But that time is not on us yet.’ Her hand snaked round his neck and slim fingers curled around a lock of dark hair, yanking it sharply. As he gasped at the sudden pain she pulled again, her voice bared steel at his throat. ‘And that time is a long way off, Estel, unless your foolishness should bring it on us before our time.’ She drew back without releasing her death grip on his hair. ‘If you ever endanger your life again in such a way you will realise that all the trials you have faced so far are nothing compared to what I will do to you. Do you understand that?’

He laughed, removing her hand from his hair. ‘I do, very well. And you shall not need to, I promise. For I have no wish to suffer the humiliation my brothers shall heap on my head if I need to seek them out when you are done with me.’

‘Wise choice, my love,’ she agreed approvingly, taking his hand and leading him to the bench. ‘Sit,’ she ordered, ‘for I can see you are weary.’

He grinned, slipping an arm around her waist as he made to sit. Ignoring the comfort of the cushioned seat, he settled on the floor, dragging her down with him so she sat in his lap. ‘I have missed you, Undomiel. I have missed the way you make me smile, and lighten the burdens of this life.’

‘Must it be a burden, Estel?’ she asked, suddenly serious. ‘Is this not what you wanted?’

‘You are what I want,’ he replied. ‘What I always wanted. The rest. . .’ He shrugged. ‘The rest I had to do, for you and myself, but with you by my side it will never truly be a burden.’

She kissed him lightly on his chin. ‘Then I am content.’

* * *

They sat there, together, for many hours, in a silence more beautiful for the perfect understanding between them. It was an understanding that had never been lacking, just lost for a time under the pressures of change. Lost but now found, and they celebrated its return in quiet contemplation of each other.

At length Arwen stirred, raising her head from her husband’s shoulder. ‘What are you thinking?’

Aragorn laughed. ‘That if I am going to be spending so much time on the floor we really need to get some rugs. This stone is uncomfortably cold.’

‘Perhaps we should retire somewhere warmer then,’ Arwen suggested with a coy smile. ‘You have been gone a long time, my love.’

‘That I have,’ he answered, grinning at the shyness that was all affectation. There was nothing coy about Arwen.  He leant down to kiss her when the sound of voices outside the doors made him pause. Sighing in irritation he drew back, and contented himself with just gazing into her eyes and the promise that burned in them.

The voices fell silent. For a moment they held their breath, willing their visitors to go away, then there was a sudden commotion and the doors swung open as Gimli stumbled through and almost fell on his face on the threshold. The dwarf swore viciously as he straightened, looking naked without his steel helm and ringed tunic, then he caught sight of them sitting there watching him and flushed deeply. Muttered apologies were lost as he began flinging curses at the blond elf leaning negligently against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest.

Unsure whether to be amused or angered Aragorn just shook his head. ‘Do not apologise, my friend,’ he assured the outraged dwarf as he got to his feet and reached down a hand to help Arwen up. ‘Legolas has few qualms when it comes to my privacy. That he learnt from my brothers.’ He turned his attention to the dwarf’s companion with a cool smile. ‘And what brings you here that is so urgent you could not knock?’

Legolas looked affronted. ‘Why I was just about to knock when Gimli lost his footing and fell through,’ he explained innocently, ignoring the rumble of fury at his side. ‘And it was Lord Faramir who sent me, to remind you of the banquet to be held this night in honour of your return.’

‘Tonight?’ Aragorn looked puzzled. ‘We have only this day returned.’ But even as the words passed his lips he realised his error and winced at the sudden gleam in his friend’s eyes that told him he would not let this one go by.

Legolas arched one delicate eyebrow. ‘Today, Estel? I’m afraid that we returned yesterday. Perhaps you were so caught up in your reunion you did not notice?’ His blue eyes widened even further as he appeared to take in the ragged state of the king for the first time. ‘Or perhaps not,’ he murmured, mischief sparkling in his gaze. ‘We heard you had been taking you rest in odd places, Estel, but I did not realise your brothers meant you had been sleeping in the stables.’ At Aragorn’s growl he looked even more astonished. ‘You were not? Well then I cannot think how you have come to be so, ah, dishevelled. Perhaps it would be best if you were to change before coming to the feast? Or you may find yourself arrested for disgracing Elessar’s fine table.’ He smiled beatifically in the face of his friend’s mute rage. ‘Come Gimli,’ he motioned to the embarrassed dwarf at his side. ‘Let us at least not keep Gondor’s fine nobility waiting.’ And with that the elf spun on his heel and left the room, a slight hitching of the shoulders all that betrayed his mirth.

Gimli hesitated a moment before following, his face beet red to match his beard. He looked between the king and queen, the one silent and angry the other openly amused, and shook his head. ‘How. . ?’ he began, then stopped, muttering into his beard as he turned to retreat hurriedly after his friend. The unmistakable tones of an angry dwarf as he berated the unrepentant elf reached them long after the pair had disappeared.

Left alone once more Arwen laughed. ‘I think that was Legolas’ way of seeing how you fared,’ she said in defence of her friend as Aragorn’s scowl deepened. ‘It is Gimli I feel sorry for.’

‘Indeed,’ a gruff, worn voice commented from the doorway. ‘I see that the prince has not yet tired of tormenting our poor dwarf. Though I fear Legolas may test his patience to its limits soon, and have a shock of his own.’

Aragorn spun around in surprise and stared at Gandalf. He had not heard the wizard enter. ‘No doubt, though Gimli is not the only one he torments,’ he replied wryly, hiding his wince at the sudden movement. His eyes narrowed as he saw the glimmer of laughter in the wizard’s gaze. ‘In fact sometimes I think the whole fellowship has taken a leaf out of my brothers’ book and taken it upon themselves to torture me. Forgive my suspicion, but I doubt you have come here to inquire after my health.’

‘Your health?’ Gandalf murmured, managing to look put upon. ‘Does it need inquiring after? I had not heard.’ This they both knew for a lie as little happened without Gandalf being aware of it, but taking this as an assurance that he was not about to be pestered Aragorn was prepared to forgive the evasion. ‘No, no, I was hoping you could spare me a few hours. There is something I wish to show you.’

Aragorn glanced at Arwen, then back at the wizard. He was dressed in the travelled stained grey robes of old, the pristine white of his new position nowhere in evidence. ‘I find it is easier to sneak about like this,’ he explained with a small shrug. ‘White stands out so much more, and your guards are really quite alert.’

‘We will be needing to evade my guards?’ the King asked with forced patience. He looked again at Arwen, and saw the curiosity in her clear eyes had turned to mild apprehension, and guessed its source. To Gandalf he said, ‘You are aware there is a feast this evening that I must attend.’

The wizard smiled. ‘Of course you must, my dear boy. It is a feast to welcome your safe return. I promise I shall not keep you too long. But if your lady will permit, there really is something you I think you need to see.’ He bowed to Arwen, a crafty glint in his eyes.  ‘That is, if you are well enough.’

Suppressing a growl of annoyance, Aragorn reached out to catch hold of his sword belt and strapped it round his waist. He knew when he was beaten. ‘Very well,’ he agreed with obvious reluctance, ‘let us go.’

‘Oh, not that way,’ Gandalf stopped him hurriedly as he walked to the door. At Aragorn’s impatient look he gestured at his travelling garb, and his battered hat held snugly under one arm.

Aragorn grinned. ‘Ah, I forgot. We’re evading my guards.’ And he turned towards his bedroom, walking straight out onto the balcony. As Gondor’s king climbed somewhat stiffly over the edge and perched lightly on the narrow rail, Gandalf looked on, impressed and delighted. ‘I see you have been practising,’ he observed as Aragorn looked up. ‘If only your advisors could see you now.’