Chapter 5

A Friend on the Doorstep

April 10

Minas Tirith, Gondor

A breeze picked up from the east, running its long course, throwing up the fallen leaves and rustling the sparse branches of a single tree which grew between the stones in front of the guardhouse. At his post as gatekeeper Anárion shut his eyes, enjoying the last remnants of the fading sun against his face as the sounds of evening gathered around him.

Anárion opened his eyes once more and, as though it had been borne in on the wind, an elf stood before him. He was standing straight, yet not stiff; as though the surroundings him gave him ease and comfort. This impression was furthered by the slight smile that hovered on his fair mouth as he stepped forward.

"Greetings, Anárion son of Meneldil."

To this the guard smiled in return and bowed briefly. "Welcome, Prince Legolas!" Then Anárion shook his head. "Though, with all respect, your highness, I wonder if you can now even count how many times King Elessar has told you to enter without the many formalities. Please tell me you did not halt at every guard house from the outer circles to here."

"It is an act of caution I wish to keep intact for your king's sake," Legolas demurred. "Say there was an act of crime, I would wish myself to be above the suspicion of those guarding the outer circles."

To this Anárion could only laugh, "Aye, yes, Prince Legolas, you would indeed be of great suspicion. It is said that Mirkwood royalty are giving to pick-pocketing and horse thievery; best to keep all eyes open. But for my part you may consider yourself allowed within the innermost circle. And as I imagine you would prefer to present yourself unannounced to the king, I shall break with that formality and let you on your way."

Legolas chuckled as well. "Thank you Anárion. I believe I shall surprise him! It has been a long time since last we met and I cannot pass on such an opportunity."

The gatekeeper sighed in a show of forbearance. "So it was said by the sons of Lord Elrond when last they came; it must be a common trait of elves."

"Common enough of those who know your king, at least," Legolas agreed, before bidding a final farewell and continuing on past the guardhouse and through the outer courtyard, wondering if he would need to inquire after the king's whereabouts or if he would stumble upon him on the way. Night was coming on quickly.

In truth he was anxious to see his dear friend again; it had been quite a long time since their last meeting. All the fates had seemed to be working against them — distractions from weather to war — and due to this he had not even seen the youngest child of the royal household, though Gilraen was nearly three.

Elves did not count hours, days, nor even years with much thought, but ever since the day Legolas had met Aragorn, time seemed to have adjusted for him to a mortal pace, and each moment he was away from his friend made him wish for another visit. To Rivendell, as it had been, and to Minas Tirith as it was now.

Legolas paused just outside the gardens when he sensed that someone was following him. Letting out a silent sigh he turned off into the garden and began strolling between the patches of vibrant flowers and greenery spilling over white stone. Slowing his pace even more, he pretended to find the plants truly fascinating despite the fact that in the dimness his own natural light was the only way to see them at all. Knowing that his tracker was close behind him he began formulating his plan, and at the same time he heard the sound of voices just ahead.

Taking a moment to listen he easily picked out Aragorn's deeper voice making occasional comments, blended with the lighter, musical sound of Arwen, who was speaking the most, and a scattering of youthful laughter he could place as Elenwen and her sister — or so he guessed.

A spark of old mischief grew in the prince and he moved towards the ornamental stone pond of water used to sustain the lush gardens. Perching lightly at the edge, he stared at his reflection on the dark water and waited for the precise moment…

As his tracker sprang from the bushes, Legolas stepped neatly to the side. Clearly the person had not noted how close the elf had been to the edge and after a moment's attempt to correct his awkward lunge, the young human slipped over the edge and fell with a splash into the pond, coughing and spluttering as water was washed up in his face.

"Hello, Eldarion." Legolas bent over the youth with a puckish grin on his face.

Eldarion squinted through the dark at the glowing being above him.

"You cheated, Uncle Legolas," the boy accused wetly from where he sat.

"Ah, but when one is being tracked one is forced to make his own rules." Before Eldarion could work up a response to that, Legolas reached down swiftly, grabbed the boy by the collar, and pulled him up out onto the white path. "Is that your father I hear, Eldarion?"

The boy began to squirm in his 'uncle's' hold, but to no avail.

"I think it is," the elf mused, barely concealing his laughter.

Pulling Eldarion every step of the way, Legolas soon reached the source of the voices.

Sitting in the midst of stands holding open candles, the family had finished their evening meal long ago and were now sitting in the cool grass. Elenwen was trying to braid flowers into her younger sister's hair while the young one tied blades of grass in knots. Arwen sat in a blue dress the color of predawn and she was reading aloud from an elven tale while her husband held her against his side with one arm, his eyes following the words as she read them.

All the occupants of this peaceful scene looked up, however, as Legolas appeared from the darkness dragging the struggling Eldarion with him.

"Pardon the intrusion, my lord," Legolas apologized formally — barely containing his mirth, "but I believe this belongs to you." He then released Eldarion who stumbled slightly and turned a sheepish smile on his father.

"You should teach him to track better, Strider," Legolas continued, enjoying the use of the fond nickname here in the company of Aragorn's family. "I would have thought he'd know not to ambush an elf so close to water when the light is poor."

Aragorn laughed at that and shook his head. "I would have thought, mellon-nin, that you'd abandon that trick after I nearly caught cold when you did it to me."

"He did that to you, Ada?" Eldarion seemed pleased with the idea.

"Aye," Legolas nodded. "Though fair is fair: I asked him to track me."

Aragorn and Arwen rose now and Arwen lifted a blanket from the grass and wrapped it around her son's shoulders, laughter dancing in her eyes. She whispered something in the elven tongue that caused her son to laugh.

Aragorn skirted his daughters' sitting place and stood before his friend, his great pleasure evident in his silver blue eyes. After a moment he drew the elf into an embrace which Legolas returned immediately.

"I have missed you, my friend," Aragorn said at last pulling away and smiling at the elf. "It has been at least three years since last I have seen you and four since you have seen my family." He smiled down at his youngest who was now clinging shyly to his cloak. "You have not even met my Gilraen!" Aragorn picked the small girl up and Legolas was immediately struck with the similarities. Dark, wavy hair bounced haphazardly around the small face and her wide blue eyes held hints of silver, like her father and brother. Her face was drawn up in a wary expression that Legolas had certainly seen on another face before.

"Maut Omentie, young one," Legolas smiled at her and watched as her expression shifted to confidence — and the familiarity increased.

"Maut Almaarea," she responded in a small, clear voice. Aragorn laughed and squeezed the girl affectionately.

"Gilraen is a very trusting child," Arwen said, and smiled as well. After greeting Legolas she took the small girl from Aragorn and immediately Gilraen began to look sleepy in her mother's arms.

"That sounds like another I know," Legolas nodded, watching as Arwen led her children back to the house and Arien appeared from her work indoors to take Elenwen by the hand.

Aragorn smiled at his friend's words before ushering the elf towards the door. "Arwen and Arien will be putting them to bed; you must be tired after your journey."

"Not so tired as you might think," Legolas protested. "I have been anxious to see you, my friend, and such desire tends to erase fatigue from a journey."

"Yet I am unmoved. Come in and sit, and food shall be sent for directly."

Legolas shook his head, "Well then I will not waste time arguing with you, Strider; not if it pleases you."

"It does," Aragorn concurred with a nod. "And then you may tell me all that you have done since we last parted."

When the meal was brought the king and his guest both were deep in conversation about recent happenings in Ithilian.

"I do not know if I ever communicated this fully, but I am grateful to you for bringing aid for the purging of evil in Minas Ithil. Especially since I know it cannot be without fearful memories for you."

"Worry not for me, Strider, it can hold no evil that taints me any longer. Even now it looks a good deal better than it did; Faramir has lent us much aid in our work and we are grateful for his help. But tell me what has happened here in Minas Tirith."

"Not nearly enough to tell," Aragorn replied, gesturing the elf towards the table where the meal was laid out.

"Then all is well with you?" His ironic smile said that he didn't believe it.

"Yes, very well, amazingly. And peaceful, but for the Southrons and Eldarion's ambushes of Duurben in the corridors…"

At this they both had to laugh. "Poor Duurben," Legolas sighed wryly. "He is ever forbearing with your son — which is something I cannot seem to manage."

"You are an elf," Aragorn assured, still chuckling. "It would not be in your nature to let a mortal win."

"How unfair of you!" Legolas cried in mock injury. "I do hope to find you have not poisoned the hearts of your young ones against me in such a fashion."

"Not in the least; they all regard their uncle of Mirkwood just as highly as they do those in Rivendell."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "And from this I am to garner comfort?"

"Indeed you are!" a new voice replied merrily as Arwen came into the room. "My brothers have nearly as many tricks to play on their nieces and nephew as you, good Legolas, and they cannot hope to spring their traps half so well and with such good result as you."

"You see, Legolas, I know every trick the twins ever learned and much to my wife's dismay I have conveyed them all to my own children." In speaking Aragorn rose from the table and offered his place to Arwen, but she gently declined. "I fear the thrice-compounded assortment of mischief I may expect from my grandchildren. Arwen, you will not join us?"

"I had better not stay awake long, my Estel, a long day spreads from tomorrow's dawn. I am taking the children out for the day."

"All at once?" Aragorn seemed completely surprised as he wrapped his arms around his wife. "I'll have your word that you will not go alone."

She smiled at that kissed him gently. "Your children are not yet as troublesome as you Estel; I would not worry so."

Legolas watched them with a smile lurking lightly on his face. His attention was pulled away, though, at the sight of another figure approaching them at a staggering walk, tripping over a long white gown.

Aragorn saw her as well and scooped young Gilraen up into his arms with a smile. "And what has gotten you up at this hour, my child?"

Gilraen's eyes were still glassy with sleep and she stared almost unseeingly at her father before leaning against his shoulder. "I had…a pony and the …the elf and Eldarion made one too…"

Aragorn laughed, hugging his daughter to him before passing her to his wife.

"I believe I will return this one to her bed and retire for the night," Arwen announced with a last kiss to her husband.

Aragorn turned back to his friend after being sure that Arwen and Gilraen made it safely to the stairs.

"I honestly don't know what we will do with her," the king sighed fondly. "That child refuses to stay in her bed, even in sleep, and we constantly find her wandering in the strangest places. Her older sister sleeps far too soundly and never notes her passing until she's already left the room."

The elf still seated at the table was laughing by this time and Aragorn glared him down good-naturedly.

"What is it, my friend?"

"You," Legolas replied without preamble. "You are so happy and your children so very much like you, your lady is so dear to your heart. Strider, when first I met you, I never would have pictured you in this place; but now that you are here and your life has become what you have secretly dreamed, I cannot imagine you anywhere else."

Aragorn could not help a stab of old humor no matter how hard he tried. "Does that make you wish for a family of your own, then?"

"Never in my life!" Legolas proclaimed with a laugh. "And don't you dare give your wife ideas of searching anyone out for me."

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All was quiet.

This, then, must be the moment. The traitor was distantly aware of the merry sounds drifting up from the lower floor. He could easily hear the hum of his own breathing, the rhythm of his heart beat pounding in his head, but as he crept down the hall not a sound could any ear have heard...not even that of an elf.

All was deadly quiet.

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"And how are Raniean and Trelan?" Aragorn's question was eclipsed by the elf's laughter.

"Oh they are well — but for all my eternal years I have never seen them put up such a fight as when I told them I was coming alone to visit you!" Legolas shook his head. "They predict my father will leave these shores soon and then it will be my duty to rule the people; I think it has made them more conscientious than usual."

Aragorn smiled and took a drink from his cup. "Ah, so they still fear that upon a visit to my halls you will be killed? I am terribly offended. You know we strive to keep our roads as safe as may be."

"It is all null when one is entrusted with one's prince," Legolas replied with a smile. "I think father gave them a stern speech before we left and they feel it is their responsibility to keep me safe at all times."

"I must then concede the point; for with us, my friend, there is no telling when danger is lurking around the corner."

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The traitor's hand lay upon the silver handle. Turning it soundlessly he felt the door give and come open just slightly…just enough.

Crouching in the dark on the floor he reached into the woven basket swiftly…but it was a little too swiftly.

With a barely contained cry the man recoiled his hand, gripping it with his other fingers and moaning silently between his teeth. Shaking off the sudden wash of pain that swelled over him and squeezing tightly where the blood was dripping from him, keeping it from spattering on the stones, he returned his attention to the basket. Curse the beast; now he would need the herbs and quickly.

It seemed the reptile was hungrier than he'd thought.

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"But you seem to be greatly at peace here," Legolas pointed out, taking a sip of the wine offered him. "All except your mention of Southrons."

"I do hope they shall give us no trouble," Aragorn nodded. "I suppose you know that Queen Mavranor is still a leading monarch in Harad?"

Legolas looked up quickly and met his friend's gaze. "Surely she can't still have a vendetta against you… if she even knows that you are king."

"That is a question, but I see no way she could get such information. Still, she could not hate me much more for being her brother's murderer than she can hate me for being the King of Gondor, and I cannot ignore the possibility of the threat. Hers in particular could be great."

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Gently. Ever so gently. The shadows hid the secret well as it slid from the basket as a whisper to the floor.

A quiet hiss escaped into the still air as the traitor turned down the hall, vanishing into the night shadows.

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Transparent eyelids slid and slid. It saw its chance. Oh how wonderful it would be to taste more blood. Much more. Everywhere around it there was the sound of life. It could taste the sweet young breaths in the air. But here, closer at hand, was a strange and delicious scent…elven it seemed… familiar… fresh…

Closer. Ever closer. Gripping sinuously upward, curling across the white coverlet.

A hand. Moving gently in sleep.

Sleep.

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"Rohan keeps us alerted to strange activities. They are more vigilant than I had ever credited them; I think they have learned, better than most, the value of watching for trouble from afar. Should Saruman's treachery find a chance to repeat itself tomorrow, it would be discovered and thwarted before this time next week. And for that and many other reasons I am continually grateful for Eomer's aid."

"I would hope as much," Legolas nodded. "It is good to see the renewed alliance standing so strongly."

"Yes it is, and it will serve us well, as it has before; of that I am certain." Aragorn raised his cup again to his lips but paused, suddenly noticing his friend's face.

The prince dropped his hands to his knives and turned slightly.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked warily.

"I'm not sure…" the elf frowned as he turned his head towards the stairs. "Something—"

Legolas's words were cut off abruptly as a scream rent the air.