Author’s Note:

Thranduilion:  Son of Thranduil.
Yavanna:  Ainu. The second greatest of the Valar. She watches over all growing things in Arda. The Sleep of Yavanna was a time in Middle-Earth when most living things slept after the destruction of the lamps of the Valar, awaiting the return of light. The elves finally awoke during this time by the shores of Cuivíenen.
Lórien:  Alternative and more common name of Irmo. One of the Valar lords. He is the master of visions and dreams. With his wife, Estë, he provides rest and recovery to the Valar and the Eldar.
Estë: Ainu and one of the Valier. She is the wife of Lórien, and her task is that of healing and rest.
Aulë: Ainu. He is the master of crafts and fashions the substances of Arda. He created the dwarves because he was impatient for the coming of the Children of Ilúvatar, but later repented. In his remorse at what he had done, he surrendered his creation to Ilúvatar’s will. Because of this, the dwarves were spared destruction and only made to sleep until after the awakening of the elves. Aulë’s wife is Yavanna.
__________

Chapter 8 - Gimli’s Aerie

"My ladies, I thank you for your company on my walk. I will bid you good evening now for I must return to my duties. I bless you this evening and always."

Orophin bowed to the two little girls with the solemn formality that so delighted them. They curtseyed to him in return as Arwen had taught them. His face was drawn and weary, but he made it smile for Elanor and Ilika as he kissed them.

He had come because Rosie told him of their fright at all the sadness that they saw and felt in the castle. Haldir had said he would tend to his brother’s duties for a time, and Orophin had taken the children walking in Arwen’s gardens. The ones Legolas had planted.

"Orophin, why are you wearing your beautiful tunic and cape? All the warriors are, and there are so many pretty banners in the courtyard. Is it an important night?"

Elanor looked up at her esquire with complete trust that her question would be answered. Orophin willed himself to absolute calm as he did so.

"Yes, princess, it is an important night. We honor Legolas tonight. He is a great prince and much loved among his warriors."

"I am glad he is being honored, Orophin. He will like that, won’t he? Have you told him, or is it a surprise?"

Sam quickly gathered his daughter into his arms and cuddled her close, so that she did not see her elf’s face tighten with pain at her words.

"You must not delay Orophin further, Elanor, he must return to the palace. You will stay here with your Da and Uncle Merry and Uncle Pippin. Let him go quickly, lass, or you will make him late."

Orophin gave Sam a grateful look and almost ran from the children back into the palace.

*****

Night was drawing on and still the hobbits sat together in Gimli’s Aerie, the special raised area the dwarf had built for the hobbits and the "shorter-of-stature" guests to the castle. From here, the hobbits could look out over Gondor and the city as easily as the tall elves and men.

How Legolas had laughed with delight as he had first viewed the fine stonework and named it, breaking a bottle of the best wine his father had sent over its walls to honor the builder and bless the work. Gimli had grumbled at the loss of wine, but his heart had been touched by the gesture.

The Aerie had become one of the elf’s favorite places to perch with his friends. Even now, his gentleness seemed to linger in the stones and among the raised beds for flowers that the dwarf had remembered to include.

Gimli had grumbled about those too, but had smiled as he watched Legolas’ slender hands happily delve in the soil. With Sam to do the heavy work for him, the elf planted flowers and one small rowan tree to bring them shade, resting often but determined to finish.

Gimli had teased the elf and the hobbit gardener about "that miserable little twig of theirs" and laughed when the elf sang to it softly as he planted it.

Legolas had really had no choice but to defend the little tree’s honor and seek revenge upon the dwarf. Sam remembered the wicked gleam in the elf’s tired eyes as he innocently proposed a wager.

He would, he said, stand upon the parapet and announce to all that dwarves were superior to elves if he lost, and he would drink ale for an entire week instead of wine. If he won, Gimli must learn to climb a tree and build him new flower boxes in the Aerie for more roses.

Gimli looked at the pitiful sapling with its half dead leaves and was lost to temptation. He knew well how the dignified elf hated ale, and the thought of the parapet announcement glittered like mithril in his mind. He gave his hand to Legolas to seal the wager.

While the dwarf surrendered to laughter and was unaware, the elf quietly buried at the base of the poor twig a little of the earth from Galadriel’s garden that Lord Celeborn had sent.

Sam smiled at the memory of the awful cursing of the startled dwarf a week later when the elf pointed to the now sturdy sapling’s first leaves unfolding. Legolas had laughed until his eyes streamed as he claimed victory over the grumpy dwarf. Fondly, Legolas speculated aloud as to which would be the perfect tree to teach Gimli to climb as soon as he was well, totally impervious to the dwarven glare fixed upon him.

The stones for the flower boxes had come from Aglarond but two days before. Gimli had been, as always, within the healing chambers, so Sam had taken delivery and had the dwarves pile the stones near the Aerie.

Sam looked at those stones and then at the beautiful young tree whose leaves made music now in the night’s breezes. The sturdy hobbit had been tending the little rowan tree carefully through the long weeks when the elf no longer had the strength to visit. Sam found his eyes filling with tears and rubbed his coat sleeve roughly across them. He had learned much from the elf as they worked together.

*****

Rosie had come long ago to take the girls to bed, but Sam and his two old friends had no desire to go into the palace themselves. In their hearts, they felt that this time was too sacred for the elves, and they would not intrude.

Together they watched as each company of elven warriors returned from the day’s duties. All day, at least fifty warriors in formal uniform had stood in the courtyard beneath the prince’s chambers, but now their numbers were growing each hour.

Sam’s throat grew tight as he saw Ohtar leading Fuin and Arod into the courtyard. Arod’s mane had been tied with long green and gold ribbons and several of Oropher’s scarlet with mithril bells along their length. The horses would stand watch with Ohtar.

Each tired company returned to quarters and washed and changed quickly from the daily uniform to that worn on the highest ceremonial days. The captain of each guard bore its standard and stood with it for his elves to group around him. No order was laid upon them to do this. They came out of love to their prince.

"May I join you?" The weary King Elessar asked humble permission of the hobbits. He felt a sorrow almost to madness descending upon him and had sought these simple creatures as his only hope.

"Strider, you don’t need to ask! Sit, please. Pippin bring that chair close to mine!" Sam cuffed the younger hobbit who sprang to action and dragged the chair forward.

The king sank his tired body into it and looked out upon the gathering elves below. His whole being ached with sadness.

"Strider, what do they call this that they are doing? We’ve seen it all afternoon and know it’s for Legolas, but we don’t understand." Pippin’s usually irrepressible voice was hushed and almost timid.

Aragorn spoke the Quenya name and smiled at their bewilderment. They had enough trouble with the elves’ common tongue.

"It means ‘The Watching,’ and it happens only for royalty among them. Usually, it is for the time when a royal passes to the Undying Lands, but also for those who travel to. . ." Elessar’s voice hesitated at the word he did not wish to utter for his friend.

"Mandos. For the trip to Mandos, they place the banners of the Houses and the Alliances in front of the warriors who stand guard."

Aragorn pointed to the many-colored flags that were in the courtyard beneath the windows of the prince’s chambers.

"Those in front are the banners of the House of Oropher and of Greenwood the Great, of the Noldor, of the Sindar, of the Galadhrim and Finarfin and of the Silvan elves. In back, there are those for the Houses of Elrond and the Golden Flower, for Eregion and Imladris, for the Havens and the Teleri and for Lindon and Doriath and Gondolin and other places that are no more. For all the elves, Pippin. My heart breaks too much to name them all to you."

The king’s eyes looked towards the heavens and sought Eärendil’s comfort as always. "The warriors are here to watch over Legolas as he passes to death. The banners are to bring him the honor of all the elves who have dwelt in Arda since the awakening of the First Born during the Sleep of Yavanna. They will see Legolas home to Mandos."

Aragorn’s great heart ached unto breaking. "When Legolas passes, it will be his brother who brings the personal standard of Legolas Thranduilion, together with his own and their father’s, to place them before the one of the House of Oropher. This will let the warriors know their lord has fallen and passed from Arda."

Legolas, my friend, you were to be here for my passing. How cruel is it that I wait now for yours? I wish well that I had died before this night! Look at these gentle faces of your friends. They cannot imagine life without you, even as I cannot.

"Those poles will be topped with white silk ribbons, for that is the elven color of mourning, and the white ribbons will be twined with the green and gold of the Woodland Realm and the scarlet of the House of Oropher."

Despite his own pain, Aragorn noted again the grieving of the hobbit faces and put his strong arms about their shoulders to draw them close and try and comfort them where there was no comfort to be had.

"The warriors will then sing a lament for their prince and remain to guard his body until burial."

You hate the darkness and enclosed places, and we will put you there, put you where there will be no sunshine and no forest and no breeze to touch your face. We will leave you where there is only cold and darkness.

Aragorn’s face fell into his hands then, and he let his despair wash over him as he wept bitterly. The hobbits huddled closer to him to try and ease the pain of the king and their own.

*****

Legolas lay in his bed in the chambers of healing, his body so thin now that it scarce raised the silken coverings they had placed over him for warmth. He had not spoken for hours, for his strength was too far gone. He seemed at peace somehow and almost beyond pain.

Now his head lay quiet upon the pillow, and he had ceased the soft moaning that had so torn at their hearts. Instead, he lay still with his arms by his side. His eyes were half-closed and seemed far too large for the thin and sunken face.

Gilúviel sat by the bedside holding his brother’s slender hand in one of his own and stroking the unbound golden hair on the pillow. He was singing in a soft voice the songs of their childhood as he counted each shallow breath his brother drew.

At the head of the bed, on either side, stood Rúmil and Orophin in their dress uniforms and holding their bows at their sides. The last duty of these warriors to the prince was to guard his passing. They would not fail. Although their hearts were breaking for their childhood friend, their warrior faces were calm and dignified as they stood to honor the prince to whom they had sworn their allegiance.

On the other side from Gilúviel, Eldarion sat with his mother. The boy’s eyes were reddened and swollen from long nights of crying, but he had mastered himself this day and held Legolas’ other hand gently. He sat straight and tall by his friend’s side and would not leave him.

Eldarion’s world was crumbling before him, but he was still brave for his friend. He did not cry. He thought of Finrod tearing his bonds free as the wolf approached Beren. Eldarion wished there were a wolf to slay and save Legolas, but there was none. He could only wait with him for death.

Eldarion’s eyes sought Rúmil. The elf stood silent and still to honor the prince, but his grey eyes told the child he did well. Eldarion felt comfort at Rúmil’s presence.

Arwen let her son be here and silently sat close by him to lend her own courage if he needed it. In Undómiel’s black hair, she had plaited the roses from the bushes that Legolas had planted for her, the small pale ones without thorns that smelled the sweetest and were his favorites. He had told her once that they reminded him of her.

At the foot of the bed, knelt the dwarf Gimli with his head buried into the bed against the dying elf’s legs. This was the hardest for Legolas for he could feel the dwarf’s silent tears soak through the silk cover and lay warm on his flesh.

Legolas so wanted to comfort him. Never had he known that dwarves could weep as this one did now for him. Legolas’ mind wished to comfort his friend, but his body was too weak to let words come.

He hoped Gimli could feel his thoughts. Gimli, what shall I do without you? These others will join me one day, but you I am losing. I do not wish to be without you, Master Dwarf! I love you, my friend. Remember that always. Gimli, I am too tired now to even think. Stay with me, friend, that I may be brave as the dwarves are brave. It is growing darker, and I fear the darkness without you, Gimli.

In her corner by Gurth’s bedside, Sulka watched the elves and the dwarf. Her own cheeks were wet with tears. She had found suddenly in her heart that she did not want the elven prince to die. It mattered to her.

She saw Haldir walk towards her with her child’s medicine. In the midst of this grief, he remembered her child. His eyes silently noted the tears on her face before she wiped them quickly away.

The tall healer wore his uniform of old to honor his fealty and long service to Celeborn’s alliance with Thranduil and his sons. Around his shoulders, he wore the formal red cloak of the healer that he was now. Pinning it at the shoulder was Galadriel’s own brooch she had given to him after she taught him her knowledge.

The brooch glowed with a light that came not from jewels, and its brilliance brought warmth. Somehow, it made the elf seem even larger and taller to Sulka’s eyes. The light gave her hope where there was none, and the last of her fear of Haldir dissolved.

The healer handed the medicine cup to Gurth. For once, the boy took it without complaint and in silence. Gurth was frightened as Legolas died. Haldir touched the child’s thin cheek softly, wondering if he would still be able to save this boy as he had been unable to do with Legolas.

Sulka’s heart ached for the tall elf. There was no coldness on his face now. Instead, a deep and abiding sadness lay there that tore at her heart to see. Without thinking, she motioned to the empty chair by her side.

Haldir looked at the dark-haired woman’s face for a long moment and saw again that courage that fought beside him to save her child. He walked to the chair and sat down beside Sulka.

As they sat together and kept their vigil, Sulka’s heart was amazed when the elf slowly took her small hand in his strong one and held it.

Haldir had never held a human hand before and wondered at the warmth of it against his own cool fingers. The woman of Gondor was no longer his enemy.

*****

"There’s too many of them, I tell you. It’s not natural the way they’re just standing there, not moving at all. Catch me standing out there like that for some royal. Some of the boys heard that all of ‘em are volunteers, not under orders. Stupid elves."

Darthol scratched his skin under his dirty tunic. He had been called down by the Captain about how filthy it was just yesterday. "I tell you, Arngrein, it’s not safe that isn’t, havin’ all them elves right here in the city. Look at all those damn weapons, would you? The king oughtn’t to allow that. Damn, elves!"

The short boorish guard Dalthor was new in the service of King Elessar, and Arngrein cursed inwardly every time he was assigned duty with him.

They had lost so many men in the war that standards were lowered to replace them. Arngrein thought this was a mistake, one of a young king not yet noting all the details of his realm. He hoped Elessar would soon learn better. Better to have fewer good soldiers rather than this offal.

"I’d lower my voice if I were you. Haven’t you been listening when the captain read out those new orders? The king is angry about something to do with those elves in the colony. Seems to think some of his own soldiers might have been out of line with the elves of Ithilien. You keep cursing about elves in that loud voice of yours, Dalthor, and you’ll end up before Elessar himself."

"He thinks more of ‘em than his own people, that’s his problem. Think he was a damn elf himself. Going off and marryin’ one of ‘em even. T’ain’t natural, that ain’t."

Arngrein resisted the urge to bring his fist into the man’s face. It had been his privilege once to escort Queen Arwen as she rode with her son and Prince Legolas. He remembered how the two elves had laughed together that day, making much over Eldarion’s efforts to ride without saddle or bridle.

The boy had fallen off more than he rode until Prince Legolas had jumped up behind him and started to show the boy how to tell the horse what to do with his knees and his voice. When he leaped back onto Arod, the prince had challenged Eldarion to gallop with him and, for a wonder, the boy had managed to stay on.

Arngrein remembered the queen’s happy laughter as she applauded her son and the prince. He had never beheld a more beautiful or gentle creature as his queen on that day. Or, a happier one.

Arngrein had seen the queen this morning as she sat briefly in her gardens. He had watched her plaiting small white roses into her beautiful hair and saw the tears on her cheeks as she did so. A light seemed to have gone out in her, and the gruff old sergeant had wished he knew how it could be rekindled.

Prince Legolas was dying. He would not last the night. That was what their Captain had told them this morning during orders. Said he would personally flog any of his soldiers that disturbed the ceremonies of the elves, and they would be lucky if that was all he did. The captain had been with Legolas at the Pelennor Fields. The elf’s arrows had saved his life he’d once told Arngrein.

Word in the barracks was that the king had declared that Gondor would enter a year of mourning when the prince passed, the same as was observed for a king of Gondor. Éomer of Rohan and Faramir of Ithilien it was rumored would do the same.

In his soldier’s heart, Arngrein mourned with the elves. He had seen the prince often in the city, riding with the king and Faramir and. . .the dwarf. Always the dwarf. He had laughed with the other men at the loud running complaints of the dwarf about the nature of elves.

He didn’t understand men like Dalthor. The elves had ever been their friends as far as he could see. The prince had even fought at Pelennor with the king. He had risked his life for Gondor. Arngrein had been at Pelennor. He remembered its terrors.

Where had this poison suddenly come from that spoke of elves as evil? Men like Dalthor were a mystery to him. If the prince was evil, what then was good?

The old sergeant looked to the courtyard and saw his own captain approach Ohtar. He wore his dress uniform and, after speaking to the elven warrior, took his place beside him in silence. Arngrein decided that, when his watch was over, he would join his captain. There should be at least two soldiers of Gondor to stand with the elves.

*****

In his musing, Arngrein managed to ignore Dalthor’s unwelcome presence for a time. Two more hours and he would be free of that lout.

A sound of scuffling and Dalthor’s cursing brought him back with a sigh. He turned to see what might be the matter.

Dalthor was handling an old man roughly and obviously enjoying it. Dalthor loved to abuse those without power. It was the thing about him Arngrein hated most. An old beggar at the gates of the king was certainly without power.

"Old croaker, this is the king’s palace! Think you can just walk right in, do you? That’s what ‘is majesty’s got soldiers for, old fool. Begone with you!"

Dalthor roughly shoved the old man down and threw his staff upon him. The staff made an amazing clatter in the silent courtyard of Elessar, echoing and thundering in the dreadful stillness of mourning. Arngrein rushed over to the old man.

"Dalthor, be silent and resume your post!" He looked at the old man and saw a definite bump over one of the man’s eyes. "Are you alright, sir? Forgive this lout! We have more respect here in Gondor for our elders. Let me help you up."

The old man seemed unhurt except for the bump. He drew himself up and suddenly seemed tall and somehow wonderful despite his shabby and travel-stained robes.

"Bring me to Prince Legolas at once. I can cure him."

For the rest of his long life, Arngrein would never know why he acted as he did that night. Something in the old man’s eyes commanded his soul, and he acted on the instincts that had kept him alive in far too many battles.

Arngrein grabbed the old man’s arm and, for the first and only time in his soldier’s life, he deserted his post.

Dalthor smiled in deep satisfaction. He foresaw great advantage to himself when he reported Arngrein’s desertion to the captain later. Dalthor thought he would make a fine sergeant in place of Arngrein.

*****

Swiftly the soldier guided the old man down the corridors of the palace. He had never done anything so mad in his life, but he knew it was right.

Drawn by the commotion at the door, Elessar had left the Aerie to investigate. He did not notice the hobbits following close behind him. By a side door, they entered the main hall of the palace.

It was thus that the sergeant and the old man racing down this corridor careened into the king of Gondor.

"My lord!" Arngrein was aghast at the sight of Elessar staggering back and catching his balance. "Forgive me, my lord! I did not see you, and. . ."

The king’s reaction silenced him. Elessar stood as if transfixed at the sight of the old man, awe suffusing his face.

"Radagast?"

The old man nodded, and the king of Gondor grabbed the arm that Arngrein had dropped. He and the old one began to run down the corridors together.

Arngrein knew his career was over as he and the hobbits raced after the king. Somehow, he did not even care.

*****

Do not let him die. Do not let it be too late. Do not take him from us. For three hours and more, the same litany had pounded through King Elessar’s mind. He sat in the corner of the room and felt totally useless.

He was the king and he could do nothing but hold his own son and wait. This was beyond his own skill as a healer. Haldir knew more than he would ever know, and the evil would not be defeated by him. Their only hope lay now with the Istar.

Aragorn looked down at Eldarion, who had fallen asleep in his father’s arms from sheer exhaustion and sorrow. His son would not leave the room and had defied his own father, something unheard of in Eldarion before. Aragorn looked at the small part of himself that he held and suddenly thought of Thranduil.

Thranduil the warrior riding towards Minas Tirith. Thranduil the king. Thranduil. How much time have I spent discussing our strategy with Faramir? How we would meet Thranduil. And never once did I say, Thranduil, the father. Thranduil, whose son is dying. What would I do if it were Eldarion? What kind of fear must be in the heart of this great elven king as he rides towards my city?

Aragorn kissed his sleeping child and held him closer. He wondered how often Thranduil had cradled Legolas to his body and rocked him to sleep.

The king watched the scene unfolding before him. All the elves, including his Arwen, had drawn together as soon as the wizard had entered the room. Some communication beyond what he could understand seemed to let them know what was required even before Radagast or Haldir asked. The Istar and the healer worked swiftly with the herbs, decoctions and potions that had brought hope back for Legolas.

There was little of his life left in the prince when first the kindly wizard had bent over his patient. A small spark of his light had remained though and carefully it was being fanned back into a flame.

Together the elves worked, slowly trickling the liquids that the wise one was making into Legolas’ mouth. Every few minutes, another small spoonful would be coaxed down the prince’s throat by his brother.

Arwen and Rúmil continued to bathe the thin body with the warm water into which Orophin had stirred herbs that now filled the air with the scent of the forest.

Aragorn watched the two beautiful creatures working as if they were one being, each knowing somehow where the other’s hands would travel in healing the prince. As he bent and worked, Rúmil’s silver hair suddenly fell forward and mingled briefly with Arwen’s black. Aragorn’s throat tightened for a moment at the sight, and he kissed his son to drive back this sadness that would be his forever.

Each elf worked in silence, and yet the king knew that they spoke in their hearts together. Aragorn could feel their combined healing powers being poured into Legolas. A soft glow seemed to surround the prince and grow brighter as they freely gave of their own strength.

Aragorn let his eyes wander to the others in the room. Sulka was bathing her son with the herbs while Orophin gave the boy the draught that the wizard had directed. Gurth was still strong enough to sip it from the cup the elf held to his lips. Orophin kept one hand on the boy’s shoulder to link him to the healing light that surrounded the prince.

The hobbits sat in a corner with Gimli. Sam, Merry and Pippin were huddled against the dwarf as if to make their own circle of strength for their friend. Gimli’s eyes never wavered from Legolas’ face. To the king’s surprise, he saw Arngrein sitting with them, his hand resting on the dwarf’s shoulder. Two seasoned soldiers in yet another battle.

If I had more soldiers like that one, I would worry less about Gondor. It takes a battle-wise veteran to know when to take the initiative the way he did at the door to the castle. I must speak to his captain about him and see that he is well rewarded.

"That is enough for the moment. Dry him and clothe him in a warm tunic. He has far too little flesh left and will feel any chill."

The sound of Radagast’s voice in the quiet room was startling. Still, it was a warm and kindly voice, and it eased the king’s heart just hearing it. Aragorn had met him only once and very briefly as he had journeyed with Gollum towards Mirkwood. He remembered Radagast had looked at Gollum with pity and treated him with kindness, healing a wound incurred in their journey.

Gandalf had told him later that Radagast was the most skilled of the Istari in herb lore and was their greatest healer. Gandalf had also said that it would be a very grave mistake to underestimate Radagast the Brown.

Rúmil finished dressing Legolas in the white sleeping tunic that Arwen had brought and then helped Haldir wrapped him in a soft blanket as if he were a sleeping child. Haldir looked over to Radagast.

The wizard had seated himself in the large comfortable chair that Orophin drew nearer the fire for him. Carefully, Haldir lifted Legolas and carried him over to Radagast.

"Ah, that’s right! Let me have my little one here safe in my arms again. It has been too long since I held him last." He held out his arms and let Haldir settle his burden onto his lap. As he cradled Legolas close, Radagast laughed softly and kissed the thin cheek of the fragile elf.

"No, little one, he does not succeed yet with his foul plans. I am only sorry it took me so long to reach you and that you suffered so much pain. It was necessary for me to travel far to seek out the source of your pain and find the last ingredients I needed against it." Again, Radagast kissed the frail elf and willed his own strength into the body that so needed it.

"It will end now, little one. You will get well this time, and the tide will not turn back again. I will hold you this night, and you will take strength from me." The Istar looked over to where the dwarf sat.

"Come, good master Gimli, sit beside me here! This young one is not complete without you. His heart is telling me that. You will give him part of the strength that Aulë grants you." Gimli strode over and, to the amazement of the hobbits, he bent and kissed Legolas’ cheek before he took his place beside the wizard. Legolas stirred as the dwarf’s long beard touched his skin.

Like a sleeping child kissed by his father, Legolas sighed then in contentment. He buried his face against the old one’s neck and murmered the dwarf’s name without waking. Gimli raised his rough hand and lay it softly upon the blanket that held his dearest friend. The wizard smiled and stroked the golden hair as he shifted the thin body to make the elf more comfortable in his arms. Legolas smiled in his sleep and breathed deep the familiar smells of Radagast. He remembered the scents of the forest of the wood-elves as they began their work to heal him.

"I think, my dear Gilúviel, that you may tell those excellent elves down in the courtyard that Eryn Lasgalen still has two princes and will keep both. Tell them that Radagast the Brown asks each to send Legolas part of his own light as they take rest this night."

Joyfully, the prince ran from the room and not long afterwards the sound of quiet rejoicing and soft elven song could be heard through the windows. Aragorn recognized the song as one that Arwen sometimes sang to Eldarion to lull him to sleep. A song of Lórien and Estë, a song sung to the prince by his warriors.

Aragorn saw the eyes of all the elves brighten with tears as they listened to the haunting words, and he felt his own tears spill over and fall onto Eldarion’s dark hair. He smiled at Arwen as she came to sit beside him, leaning her weary head against his shoulder and watching their son sleeping.

Across the room by Gurth’s bedside, the king saw Haldir’s brothers put their arms around him and draw him close. Sulka sat with her sleeping son and smiled at the joy of the three elves before her.

Tomorrow, they would have many questions and begin to find answers. Aragorn knew this was important, but not right now.

Right now, they would keep a different Watching for Legolas. One that would welcome him back to Arda