Pelargir was afire, the red flames reflected
luridly in the dark waters of a harbor crowded with
black sailed ships and dyed the stately, half ruined
buildings the color of blood. And showed the company
silver armored Men of Gondor fighting against black
clad Umbarmen and red robed Haradrim in the very
streets of their city.

   Aragorn spoke quietly but with command; "Attend me,
King of Dunharrow." the phantom promptly manifested
himself on horseback at his side. Brego, by now
hardened to the presence of the Dead, didn't so much
as flinch. "These Men are our enemies but also our
kin, and not all serve the Shadow of their own free
will. Therefore I would have you drive them, as at
Linhir, rather than slay."

   The Dead King nodded. "As you wish."

   "Most of all," Aragorn finished grimly, "I want
those ships. As many as you can take for me."

   "As you command."

   Anduril flashed from its scabbard. "Then forward!"

   This time Arwen held back, following the charge
rather than joining it. Her healing skills, she
suspected, would be needed far more than her sword in
this battle.   

   She was right. The defenders, though unharmed by
the Dead, seemed dazed by the terror of their passing.
However they were able to follow orders and quickly
revived once set to work putting out the fires and
carrying the wounded to the square where Arwen set up
her field hospital. Occasionally she would catch a Man
or Woman eyeing her in some bewilderment, and who
could blame them? but nobody asked any questions,
possibly afraid of the answers they might get.

   Wounded soldiers and burn victims were soon joined
by liberated slaves from the Corsair galleys, brought
in by Aragorn's Rangers suffering from shackle galls,
festering whip cuts and the now familiar state of
shock. Arwen, assisted by a handful of trained healers
and about half the goodwives of the town, washed and
salved and fed and comforted the newly freed Men.

  Gradually the square began to empty as the injured
were carried home to complete their recoveries by
friends, kin and generous strangers. So many were
eager to take in the freed slaves that Arwen almost
had to ration them out. She was amused by the
eagerness - but also deeply touched by the generosity
of the Men of Pelargir. Perhaps she was going to like
these Gondorim after all, dispite their shabby
treatment of Isildur's Heirs.

   Finally there was nothing left for her to do and she
found herself looking in some bewilderment at the
neatly rolled bandage in her hand, then at the litter
of abandoned stretchers, empty ointment jars and
soiled linen around her, feeling totally at loss.

    Then she saw Aragorn coming towards her across the
square. A grey bearded Man, his green surcoat ensigned
with three white ships, at his side.

   "You've finished just in time." her husband told
her. Then presented his companion: "Ciyrandil, Captain
of the Ships of Gondor, my wife the Lady Arwen."

   She gave the shipmaster a smile made more radiant
by the thrill of joy the word 'wife' still gave her.
No doubt someday she would become accustomed to it -
but not just yet! The Man bowed, plainly dazzled.

   "Follow me to Minas Tirith with what strength you
can gather as quickly as you may." Aragorn continued
to the Man, grimaced a little. "What you will find
when you get there I cannot say - but I trust there
will still be a city to recieve you."

   "I have no doubt but there will be, my Lord."
Ciryandil replied, his eyes shining just like
Angbor's.
***

   Arwen led Asfaloth up the gangway onto the deck of
the vessel Aragorn had chosen for his flagship and
looked around her in some confusion. There was no one
in sight but Aragorn, Halbarad and her brothers
talking quietly together forward, and Halladan
climbing up a companionway leading to a low door
beneath the sterndeck.

   "Where is the crew?" she asked him.

   He smiled crookedly. "Can't you feel them?"

   She frowned, aware of nothing but the now familiar
presence of the Shadow Host, then her eyes went wide.
"You mean the Dead?"

    Halladan nodded. "They require neither sail nor
oar - which is just as well since both wind and
current are against us."

   The ship lurched slightly beneath her as it pulled
away from the dock and moved out onto the river. A
dozen other black sailed Corsairs followed in its
wake. Each ship with its phantom crew commanded by two
or three Living Rangers.

   Behind them the remainder of the Umbar Fleet, some
fifty ships in all, burned at their moorings in
mid-river. The red-gold flames towered high into the
dark sky and the black smoke was blown back over the
city by the chill east breeze.

   Arwen frowned up at the lightless sky, black clouds
pressing down. "It should be an hour or two past
dawn."

   "No doubt it is, somewhere behind Sauron's fumes."
Halladan answered, smiled at her. "It will be a day
and a night at least before we reach Minas Tirith,
time now, finally, to get some rest. Let's see to
Asfaloth, then I'll show you where you can sleep."
***

   She floated bodiless in empty darkness battered by
the misery and hopeless regret of the souls crowded
thick around her.

   *Alas, would we had done differently but now it is
too late...Forever too late.*
   
   *No. No, that's not true. It isn't too late.* she
told them. *You will make amends and my Lord will free
you as he promised.* But they did not heed her, their
long misery blinding them to the hope she held out.
*It will be all right.* she crooned as to sobbing
children, *Everything will be all right now, you'll
see. Not much longer now. Not long at all, I promise.*

   Arwen woke, her face wet with tears. 'I didn't
expect to pity them so.' Aragorn had said, now she
understood why. As a Man he had understood from the
begining the full horror of Isildur's curse. Being but
newly a Woman it had taken her longer. *Oh, Isildur,
how could you?*

   The stern cabin was as dark as when she'd lain down
to sleep, little light but good fresh air and river
smells coming through its open ports. But her sight
was good enough to make out the companions sleeping on
the carpets and furs spread over floor and benches:
Halbarad and Halladan, her brothers, and the Dwarf
Gimli. Not Legolas, of course, nor Barahir. Nor
Aragorn either, she frowned and throwing aside the fur
coverlet somebody had draped over her, went in search
of her husband.

   She saw him as soon as she emerged on deck, a tall
dark shape watchful in the bow, with Barahir beside
him. Legolas was sitting on a bench near the
companionway, testing his bowstring.

   "What time is it?" she asked.

   "Two hours past sunset, as near as I can judge." he
answered, frowning up at the lowering skies.

    A whole day had passed then. "I have never slept
so long before." she said wonderingly.

   Legolas smiled. "You have never riden over eighty
leagues with naught but a few hours rest here and
there, and fought two battles either." his smile
faded. "And I think the presence of the Dead drains
Mortals somehow - even those so obdurate as a Dwarf."

   "That could be." she agreed. "Perhaps that is why
we feel such a horror of them - at least until we
become accustomed." she nodded towards Aragorn. "Has
he slept at all?"

   "Well, he lay down for a time," Legolas answered
wryly, "but I shouldn't like to answer for whether he
slept or not."

   "I'll have a word with him." Arwen smiled grimly.
"Is it not a wife's part to nag her husband into
sense?"

   "Coax." Legolas corrected. But she shook her head.

   "Nag. Men are too blind stubborn to be coaxed.
Sometimes even nagging doesn't work - but still I will
try." she started forward.

   Aragorn glanced down at her as she reached his
side. "Minas Tirith is burning."

   She looked at the red light on the northern horizon
and bit her lip. It took her a moment to think of
something to say. "I remember when we heard Minas Sul
had fallen and the Enemy was at the walls of Fornost;
Erestor and Glorfindel feared our army would not reach
them in time. But Father said; 'They know I will come.
They will hold.' And they did." (1)

   "And these are our own blood kin," Barahir reminded
his brother softly. "they will fight to the very walls
of the Citadel, to the doors of the Hall of the Kings
itself, as we would."

   Aragorn nodded, face still bleak.

   Arwen closed her eyes. *Elbereth -* she began
silently, then stopped. No, not Elbereth Lady of the
Stars who the Elves revered. *Ulmo, Lord of Waters,
who has ever been a friend to Men, help us now. Let us
be in time.* then she opened her eyes. "Standing here
worrying does neither our people nor you any good."
she told her husband bracingly, took his arm and
tugged at it. "Come with me and get some sleep."

   "I have slept." he answered, a little defensively.

   Arwen looked at Barahir. "Did he?"

   "An hour or two - maybe."

   "Not enough." she said decidedly. "I've just slept
a full day away, and you must be just as weary - if
not more so. Come, Estel, the waiting will go faster
if you sleep."

   "Listen to your wife, Brother," Barahir chimed in.
"a fine inspiring sight you'll be, leaping heroically
onto the docks at Harlond, bleary eyed, to yawn in the
Orcs faces!"

   Arwen laughed. And after a moment, reluctantly,
Aragorn smiled. "Oh very well."

   She threw Legolas a broad wink as they passed him.
But his answering grin vanished the instant Aragorn's
eye fell upon him. "Good night." he said, the picture
of Elven innocence.

   "Hmmm." Aragorn answered, unfooled.

   A lamp had been lit in the cabin and all the Men
were awake, but not the Dwarf. Gimli still snored,
aparently oblivious, under his pile of furs.

   Halbarad gave them a dark look as they entered.
"Has he been on deck all this time?" he demanded of
Arwen. She nodded. His frown deepened. "What are you
thinking, Aragorn? You were taught better than that."

   His nephew raised his hands in surrender. "I have
already been lectured by my brother and my wife,
Uncle, and then dragged in here by main force! I
submit myself to all your wisdom and will try to sleep
a few hours at least."

   "See that he does." Halbarad said to Arwen, and
then left, followed by his son and the twins.

   "Come." Arwen pulled her husband over to a broad
trestle bench generously spread with carpets and
cushions. "Lie down." he obeyed but as she bent to
tuck the fur coverlet around him reached up to pull
her down beside him, there was just room enough for
two.

   "Aragorn! You're supposed to sleep." she scolded
breathlessly.

   "I'll sleep," he answered, tangling his fingers in
her hair, "in my own good time." and pulled her face
down to his.

   Both were too absorbed to see a bright Dwarvish eye
open at the breathless giggles and dangerous creakings
of the bench. It promptly closed again as its owner
pulled the sleeping furs over his head.
***

   "Aragorn."

   Arwen opened her eyes to see Legolas standing over
them - eyes bright with excitement.

   "What is it?" her husband asked, wary.

   The Elf smiled. "The wind has changed."

   Aragorn threw aside the furs and headed for the
deck, Arwen right behind him.     

   It was true. The cold, evil breeze out of the
darkened east had been replaced by a strong, warm wind
smelling of the sea coming out of the west.

   "Look!" Elladan pointed to the horizon. "A star.
And there - another."

   "Sauron's darkness is being pushed back." Arwen
breathed. *Thank you Lord Ulmo!*

   Aragorn nodded, the silver Elven light very bright
in his eyes. "More than the wind has changed." looked
again northward. "We will be in time." he said with
absolute certainty. "They will know help is coming,
and they will hold on." 
******

1. Arwen is remembering the second fall of Minas Sul,
TA 1409, when Arveleg I was slain and his young son
Araphor held Fornost until relieved by armies from the
Havens and Rivendell. The latter having been under
seige itself until relieved by a force sent from
Lorien.