Nine

Along the banks of the River Running, south of Laketown

15 Lothron, Year 29 Fourth Age

Aragorn checked his mount, placing a comforting hand on the horse's withers. The red coat caught the sunlight like burnished flame. Halruin wanted to run all out, but they still had many miles to ride today.

They had made good time, he and Gimli, which almost surprised him given the fact Halruin was an elvish-bred stallion, while the dwarf rode what he would term a large pony. He smiled to himself as he remembered Eomer had grown belligerent at that term and insisted Moroch, at fourteen hands tall, was a small horse. But to Aragorn, who had been raised in Rivendell with elvish steeds, and whose own Halruin stood a magnificent seventeen hands, Moroch was small and compact. Still, the dark brown pony had ground-eating strides, testimony of his Rohirric breeding, that let him keep up with Halruin's long legs.

He and Gimli had had set out from Gondor on the third day of Lothron and had ridden as hard as they dared without exhausting their mounts. It had been some time since Aragorn had travelled with the dwarf, and he found himself truly amazed on that first leg of their trip from Minas Tirith to Edoras to see Gimli ride with such confidence, and dare he say, grace? When he had commented on the fact, Gimli had brushed him off.

"What did you expect after that elf has dragged me over half of Arda on the back of one of these creatures? Near thirty years now! I should hope I can sit a horse without falling off."

The long, hard ride north had proved exhilarating. Too often, Aragorn found himself cooped up behind the Citadel walls in seemingly endless meetings, or travelling with a large escort. How different his life was now from the life he had lived as a Ranger. While he knew he was blessed, there were times he felt a prisoner rather than the King of Gondor and Arnor. That was probably why Arwen had supported him in going to find Legolas. The walls of stone and Men had begun to take their toll on him.

But here, in the fresh air, the trees of Eryn Lasgalen on his left and the River Running upon his right, he felt once again free. He was grateful for his wife's wisdom in sending him on this journey, as well as her support of his going without an escort, other than Gimli.

Aragorn let a small smile cross his face as he thought of the Queen's adamant refusal to hear any of the council's objections to their king making a personal trip without a guard. He, himself, would rather face the Morannon again, than his wife's fury. The king chuckled to himself as he recalled the fear in many of his councilors' eyes. Those not fearful, were quite amused by Arwen's defense of her husband. But in the end, all respected her and none could refuse her.

The smile fell from Aragorn's face, as he remembered his farewells with his family. He loved them dearly and doted on his children, although Eldarion was of an age he considered himself a man rather than a child.

Aragorn had to admit that the boy was probably right. Had he truly been that young when he had first laid eyes upon his Undómiel and mistakenly called her Tinúviel? He must have been, yet Eldarion, with his elvish heritage, was in appearance younger, the lack of beard causing him to be ridiculed by the other boys his age on occasion. Aragorn worried about his son and the challenges facing him based on his ancestry. Yet, he was also proud of the man his son was becoming. Eldarion embraced both sides of his heritage and proudly proclaimed them. Even as an adolescent he had faced taunts with head high. He would be a worthy king in time, wise and patient.

His thoughts turned to his daughters, Merilin and Glassiel. He would miss them both while he was away, especially little Glassiel, who seemed to grow taller every time he turned around. He loved Merilin just as much, but his oldest daughter, at the age of thirteen, had become moody and irrational, and he found her difficult to understand.

Glassiel, on the other hand, at eight years old, was a joy. She loved life, people and nature, courtesy of a certain elf. She had been most upset before Aragorn had ridden out left, but not because of his departure. No, the child had overheard some conversation regarding Legolas, and she was quite fearful some evil had befallen 'her' Leg'las, as she had called him since she could form the word. Glassiel adored the elf, a feeling equally returned by Legolas. Few held such sway with Legolas as did the youngest princess of Gondor!

Glassiel had pleaded with him to make sure he brought Legolas home, where she could 'care for him properly'. It would have been amusing, if circumstances were different. The care the elf might need could very well be beyond that of a young girl.

Aragorn turned slightly and glanced down at his riding companion. His concerns for Legolas were reflected on Gimli's face. The dwarf was worried—very worried— and with good reason. If anyone understood Legolas and the affliction he suffered from the sea, it was Gimli.

For thirty years, Gimli had stood by Legolas when duty had prevented Aragorn from being able to do so. The strange friendship between elf and dwarf had somehow managed to anchor Legolas. Yet he had left Gimli behind without a word, and that worried them both.

In addition to that, Legolas, by his own admission, should have been in Rohan by the end of Gwirith, yet Din's message had stated he was still in Eryn Lasgalen.

Aragorn had chosen to travel along the same route Legolas would most likely follow if he were headed south, but they had seen no sign of the elf on their journey north. They had stopped briefly in Edoras to rest their mounts, and again in Lórien. Celeborn had confirmed the elf had not traveled through his lands. Either the elf was trapped in grief still in Eryn Lasgalen, or something had befallen him.

He glanced at Gimli again and noted the dwarf was chewing one his beard, a sure sign of the level of agitation Gimli felt.

Turning his eyes forward once more, Aragorn urged greater speed from Halruin. By his calculations, they could be at the Elvenking's Halls in less than three days. Moroch matched the change of pace easily, snorting in delight and challenging Halruin to greater speed.

— ~ —

Halruinis Aragorn's elvish-bred, red chestnut stallion, a gift from his brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. Name is Sindarin for 'tall red flame' .

Moroch is Gimli's second horse, bearing the same name as his first (it was a good solid elvish name after all, why would the dwarf think of a new one?) This small dark brown horse as was its predecessor was also a gift from Eomer. Name is Sindarin for 'dark horse'.

We know Aragorn had at least two daughters from canon, but their names and birthdates are unknown. I have taken the liberty of assuming Eldarion was the firstborn. He is twenty in this story. Merilin is thirteen. Her name means nightingale and is a nod towards both Luthien and Aragorn's mistakenly calling Arwen Tinúviel at their first meeting. Glassiel is eight and has taken a shine to Legolas.