My thanks, as ever, to all those taking the time to read and those who review, pass on con crit or generally let me know what they think. Much appreciated, guys. Apologies if there's been a slight delay in posting - RL, etc. To make up for it this is a very long chapter (which could have been a darn sight longer, frankly, but I chopped off a lot of what I had and saved it for next time).

Chapter 21 - The Shield of Achilles

What time the others finally came to the tent for some rest, Penny had no idea. They were all up extremely early, however, and a giddy hubbub of chattering and giggling filled the air as everyone either packed or fussed over Arwen.

Arwen could not stop smiling. It was obvious everyone's attention and reminders of what was to come were making her excited and nervous. She had tried three times (and failed) to put her scented oils in a little leather pouch. She sat down on her bedroll, breathing out slowly as if trying to calm herself.

"Just imagine, by tomorrow night you'll be-"

"Yes, and by tomorrow night she'll be-"

There were outraged gasps and hysterical giggling. Arwen flushed a deep red and tried to look appalled.

"Forgive me," muttered the elleth responsible, biting her lips and attempting to look contrite.

She was an old friend of Arwen's from Lothlorien and the two were very close in age. The elleth and Arwen looked at each other for a moment or two before Arwen burst into laughter and her friend joined her, running across the tent to embrace her.

"Oh, you will take to married life very well, I am sure. You adore Estel too much not to."

"Ai, can we please stop talking about it? I am so full of nerves I can hardly keep my wits about me."

"Shall we braid your hair? Mireth should be back any second."

Indeed a few moments later Mireth entered the tent with a posy of wild flowers and some trails of greenery.

"Celebdor shepherded me all the way," she smiled. "He worries far too much."

"Not without reason, Mireth," Arwen replied. "There could very easily be blades somewhere in the long grass that lie hidden from view."

"I know." She held up the flowers. "Will these be enough, do you think?"

"Oh, we only need a few, I think," Eleniel replied.

They set to work: twisting the small, delicate flowers into Arwen's hair as they put just a few thin plaits in it to keep it all back off her face. It was much like an elvish version of a slumber party, Penny decided. Except that it was the morning, they were not wearing pyjamas and it was only one of them that was getting the make-over. There was much gossiping over what Gondor would be like, whether the men would be a patch on any ellon and how Arwen would take to life in Minas Tirith.

Arwen looked astonishing by the time they had finished. She wore a circlet of finely twisted mithril thread dotted with cut diamonds that made it look like she had stars sprinkled across her brow and into her hair. She had a dress that looked white in some lights but was actually a very pale blue, with fine mithril embroidery along the hem, neck and sleeves. It was simple and yet beautifully elegant in a way that only elvish seamstresses were capable of. Mireth had managed to find some little pale white flowers shot with blue that matched it perfectly.

During breakfast, even as the awnings were being dismantled and packed away, two men in Gondorian dress came out of Elrond's tent, bowed to him and then left hurriedly to mount their horses. They set off at a gallop southwards towards Minas Tirith: messengers to let Aragorn know Arwen would arrive later that day.

Not long afterwards, the wedding party set off behind them, though at a far slower pace. Everyone had on fresh clothes, many with circlets on their heads or flowers in their hair, their clothes or their brows studded with gems. These usually 'merely beautiful' elves were now looking indescribably stunning. Bunched all together in a pack like this, it was almost too much to take. Penny focused very hard on the scenery as they travelled because otherwise she was constantly reminded that her pale green dress and travel-worn slippers seemed terribly down-at-heel by comparison.

Penny was not in the cart today. That was loaded up with as much baggage as could be squeezed into the space next to the barrels so as many people as possible could be mounted on horses. Penny was glad to be back in the saddle again and felt strong enough to be able to cope with it, though she did not doubt she would feel exhausted by evening.

It was the first time they had travelled in a coordinated formation (other than scouts ahead or ellyn travelling up and down the line or bringing up the rear for safety reasons).

Leading the party were Elladan and Elrohir, carrying for the first time an unfurled silver banner. It was shot through with so much mithril thread that it gleamed in the bright morning sun and was nearly blinding if you caught sight of it from the wrong angle. Penny was surprised it could bend at all, there was that much metal in it. The brothers took turns throughout the day to carry it.

As everyone milled around, getting themselves ready for the off, some horsed, others loading up bags, Penny stopped beside Elrohir, shielding her eyes from the glare of the banner to study the jewel on his brow. Elladan was wearing a matching one. Elrohir glanced down at her and smiled, clearly wondering what she was staring at.

"Are those the same ones that you both wore on the Pelennor? When you came off the ships?"

Elrohir nodded, his smile broadening.

Elladan, overhearing, leant forward a little on his stallion to see past his brother to Penny, his gaze curious and a little amused.

"Oh, so we do get a passing mention, then?"

"On occasion, Elladan, on occasion." She grinned and wandered up the line to join the others.

Behind the brothers, and leading all those from Imladris, were Erestor and Glorfindel. This group, of course, would include Penny who rode in between Lindir and Eleniel for most of the day.

Next came Galadriel and Celeborn, followed by the Galadhrim with the most noble of their advisors near the front.

Finally, Arwen and Elrond brought up the rear (along with a few outriders, of course, though once past the Rammas Echor they would trot forward and rejoin the rest). Elrond was dressed nearly as splendidly as his daughter, in a tunic of richly brocaded dark blue velvet and a bright circlet on his head. He held a silver and bejewelled sceptre in his hand, and rode the entire day with it in his lap.

This, then, was the elves at their most glorious and splendid. Everything was designed not simply for the inhabitants of Minas Tirith, but for all of Gondor to see that their future queen came from an ancient and noble stock as the wedding party rode through the Pelennor.

Penny thought it was a fantastic piece of PR, one of the best she had ever seen, in fact. Then she scolded herself for being cynical, but still could not help but snigger a little.

As they rode through the countryside towards the Pelennor, the evidence of the northern encampment of orcs and foes became even more apparent than what they had seen near the Grey Wood. Entire small copses had gone – groups of charred stumps being all that remained. They occasionally caught sight of ruins of a house or farm in the distance. Penny just hoped whoever had lived in these places had had the sense to follow the decree and leave to the southlands or Minas Tirith before the rampaging hordes had arrived.

There were also several large mounds of earth, which the grass seemed to be avoiding completely. Near to these were areas of blackened earth that the grass was also struggling to reclaim. They were not near the road but were grouped together in a clump about a mile away from the Rammas Echor. Penny stared at them, wondering what on earth they could be. Lindir leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"I imagine they are burial pits for the enemy, Pen-ii."

She turned to stare at him, at once horrified and shocked.

"What else would you have them do with so many dead?" He almost laughed grimly at her reaction. "They could not leave them to rot, fouling the air with contagion and stink. And you could hardly reasonably expect them to bury them within the confines of the Pelennor. Bad enough that their filthy carcasses will rot into Gondorian earth without them staying within their walls to boot!"

She knew he was right, but it was still chilling to look back at the mounds of earth and now know what was underneath them. The burned areas took on a very sinister tone now as well. But then, they had had umpteen oliphaunt carcasses to dispose of. Burning would be easier than anything else, she supposed.

Even so…

She gave an involuntary shudder and turned away.

The gate on the Pelennor was reached around midday. The Rammas Echor loomed huge on the horizon, stretching for miles on either side, even before they were up close to it. Penny had not really fully appreciated the scale of it before either when reading the books or from the few maps she had seen in Imladris. The wall was a good fourteen foot high, at least.

There was rebuilding going on – whole sections had been demolished, and scaffolding was visible here and there, with labourers going about their business. They all stopped to stare, though, as the elves drew near, many shouting to their comrades and pointing in the wedding party's direction. A few even started wandering towards them, clearly wanting to come and get a better look.

The party halted.

Elladan and Elrohir rode forward, proclaiming loudly who they were (with full lineage and honours, including fighting for Gondor in the fall of Sauron), who rode with them, which elven realms, races and lineages were represented amongst them, and finally declaring the purpose of their request for entry: that Lord Elrond of Imladris had consented to bring his daughter to King Elessar to be his bride and the future Queen of Gondor.

Of course this was all in Westron. Eleniel busily whispered a translation to Penny who, for very obvious reasons, had been in no fit state to improve her Westron since Rohan, despite Erestor's good intentions.

There was a brief silence, the only sounds those of the elvish banner held by Elrohir and the white Gondorian ones on the gate towers flapping slightly in the breeze. Not even the on-lookers were saying anything, all agog with awe as they were at the scene.

A tall, dark-haired man stepped forward from the gate and bowed his head, his hand across his breast by way of greeting. He introduced himself as Ingold, Captain of the Northern Gate. (Penny gave a little gasp and a grin as this was translated to which Lindir raised an eyebrow.) He bade them welcome in the name of the King, then said they were most honoured guests and that their arrival had been expected. "You may pass and go in peace," he added.

The guards did a very good job of trying to look expressionless and professional as the elves rode past. However, given the extraordinary effect this many elves all together had had on the Rohirrim, and that was without them all dressed to the nines as they were today, it was a bit much to expect the Gondorians to behave any differently. Penny had to bite her cheeks at the slightly goggle-eyed expressions and slackness around the jaws that the guards and workmen had about them.

The Pelennor was huge. At their slow walking pace it would take them the afternoon to cross it. The mountains to their right faded into foothills and rolling slopes down to the east where, lost in the distance were the wall, then Osgiliath and the river. Minas Tirith was hidden at first, the road undulating over and round the soft curves of the land. There were trees along the line of the road and dotted here and there. There was also evidence of wanton destruction, though whether deliberate or simply through accident in battle, it was hard to say.

Only an hour or so after a long, leisurely stop for lunch, they came across the first of what had been the massive ring ditches dug by the enemy. The pits had been filled in, but the grass had only grown over them sparsely as yet. The backfill was sunken in places or else heaped high in ridges in others, so they could be clearly made out. From then on the scars of war became more and more evident

There was barely a building left standing in some parts. The enemy had entertained itself with wanton destruction as it had made its way across the fields towards the city and so barns, granaries, oasts for drying out hops and herbs - let alone the occasional, solitary farmhouses and cottages - had nearly all been ravaged by fires. The few that had escaped such attention had invariably been hit by missiles from siege engines during the battle or else had had an oliphaunt career into them.

However, many of these structures were stone built, so it was simply a case of retimbering and rethatching the roofs of those merely burnt out or with a hole in the roof. Work had already started on several, with a few rough-looking wooden shacks hastily assembled to house families currently homeless and which would later be used to house animals. There was little hope of saving the buildings that had taken a direct hit from an irate oliphaunt, though. These had been entirely demolished and were now nothing more than heaps of rubble.

Whole patches of earth had been scorched where once orchards or vineyards had stood. Trees had been cut down, left charred by fire or entirely uprooted. Some of the latter were in the process of being cut up to be cleared or used as building materials or firewood.

It was an indication of how much destruction had been wrought that its marks were still so visible.

Not all was destroyed. Much was still green and still standing. Patches of the Pelennor had remained relatively untouched by long-term destruction, even if it had known the thunder of hooves, the foul invasion of orcish hordes or had soaked up the blood of many. It was clear much work had already been done. Many destroyed trees, hedgerows and vegetation had been cleared, though there was still a lot more to do. As the wedding party slowly made its way across the Pelennor, sometimes a few men and women were to be seen clearing or tilling the soil as best they could, hoping to try and start anew in the autumn.

They were still some miles distant when Penny saw a flash in the distance to the south. It had come from high up on top of a massive outcrop of rock that near enough seemed to be almost a part of the mountain behind it, the last in the chain that rose huge and imposing to their right. If she had not known any better, Penny would have dismissed it as a mere rocky foothill: a last, stony 'gasp' before the mountain chain came to an abrupt halt.

From the murmurs and pointing around her, however, Penny knew the elves could see something else clearly enough, and she also knew what it was without being told. It was not long before she too could just make it out: the Tower of Ecthelion - a barely visible, thin, white line and its roof shining brightly like a lighthouse stark against the dark mountain cliff behind it.

She felt her heart leap to her throat with excitement.

As was to be expected, their passage across the Pelennor attracted much attention, perhaps even more than in Rohan as no doubt the purpose of their journey had preceded them with the messengers or else from the gates. As they neared the city, more and more people lined the way, cheering, shouting greetings, but mostly staring in awe. A few children ran alongside every now and then, though most were quickly stopped by the adults with them, though out of respect rather than fear.

Minas Tirith, once they were near enough for Penny to see it clearly, was astonishing.

The outer walls loomed dark and tall, sheer and polished like glass. For all the blasting they had taken in the siege, the walls had held firm, even if the city behind them had burned. Tier upon tier the city rose, like some glorious wedding cake, until at last the eye fell upon the astonishing pinnacle of white at the top, its banners flapping in the breeze and the roof gleaming gold with the late afternoon sun.

They were still some distance away when they could hear the cheering coming from within the city. Then, as they neared, they could make out people lining the walls and, in a slightly bizarre moment, Penny realised that somewhere up on the upper walls the hobbits would be watching their approach. She found herself squinting upwards as if willing herself to be able to see them, as ridiculously impossible as she knew it would be.

Meanwhile, men, women and children were running out of the city to meet them till the roadsides were two or three people deep. People were singing, shouting, throwing flowers… It was like being part of a parade. Penny was just waiting for the brass band to appear and the ticker-tape to start.

Through it all the elves sat tall and straight. (No one was walking now since, for quite some time now, everyone had been horsed, even if it meant some were riding two to an animal - the 'Elrond PR Machine' would stop at nothing, so it would seem.) They smiled at the crowd warmly enough but also with an air of refined dignity, as if such a welcome was only to be expected, that it was only their due, after all. Penny turned round, trying to see Rhimlath somewhere amongst the Galadhrim, because she knew he would be looking about the most smugly arrogant of them all right about now.

Dusk was drawing in as they finally reached the city gates (or rather 'the gap in the walls where the gates used to be'). The western skies high above the White Mountains still glowed orange, but to the East the first early stars already pricked the sky.

There, ahead of them and in front of the rough wooden barrier that served as a temporary gate (of sorts), was the welcoming committee.

Penny could just make out the hobbits, Pippin looking particularly splendid in his dark guard's uniform. With them were two Dúnedain (as ever dressed in simple dark greys and browns), both of whom seemed vaguely familiar to Penny and she guessed must have been part of the gathering at Imladris before they had headed south. There were three more guards of the Citadel along with Pippin. Legolas and Gimli, smiling broadly, were on either side of Sam and Frodo and there were various other well-dressed men whom Penny assumed to be various Gondorian notables and officials. Gandalf, dressed in white and leaning on his staff, was standing next to a tall, nobly handsome man in sumptuous clothes whom Penny did not recognise immediately.

It was only as the horses slowed, the Gondorian trumpeters blew a loud, long welcome from the walls, and Elladan and Elrohir both dismounted and then bowed to this man that Penny realised it was Aragorn or rather 'King Elessar' in all his glory.

There was no better way to describe him. He was utterly different. He seemed taller, broader in the shoulder, and had a presence about him that exuded confidence, power and something utterly indefinable that had Penny staring at him for a few moments in astonishment and awe.

So this was what the Numenoreans had been like, she found herself musing. This was a king… and then some.

There was a faintly surreal air to the formality of Elladan and Elrohir's greeting, since it was clear both brothers would have liked nothing better than to embrace Aragorn warmly, grinning widely as they were. However, they restrained themselves to a similarly courtly speech as they had given back at the gate entrance to the Pelennor declaring who they all were and why they were come.

A dark-haired man standing next to Aragorn took a step forward, bowed slightly with one arm across his breast and then welcomed them to Gondor on behalf of the King. He spoke in excellent Sindarin. He looked very like his brother, if a little thinner in the jaw, perhaps, and it was clear enough who he was without Penny having to be told. Something about him reminded her nearly as much of a Dunadan, though, and she could see what was meant when it was said the Numenorean line ran nearly true in him where it had not in Boromir.

Then, and only then did the elves begin to dismount, Penny following their lead. The only ones who did not were Elrond and Arwen who rode forward through the gap the others had left for them. With his sons on either side of them both, and with Elladan still holding the silver banner, Elrond dismounted then held out his hand for Arwen as she slid elegantly off her grey mare. Then, keeping her hand in his, he walked towards Aragorn and halted in front of him.

"The hour long awaited is here at last, King Elessar. Many years ago by the counting of men did I name you 'Estel', and that was no light decision on my part. Your destiny is fulfilled, and I am glad to see it done. I now bring you, as is your right, the Sceptre of Annúminas, sceptre of the Lords of Andúnië and then the Kings of Arnor. It is yours to wield now this hour has come."

He held out the silver sceptre he had carried with him all day. Aragorn took it from him in proud silence.

"Thus are the lands of Gondor and Arnor reunited once more under one King, as it was foreseen and foretold would come to pass." Elrond paused for a moment and then, glancing at Arwen, smiled. "I have also brought to you an even richer gift. Little is worth more to an elf than their own children, as is known. Elessar, King of the Reunited Kingdom, Envinyatar, son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur and Chieftain of the Dúnedain, I have brought you my daughter, Arwen Undomiel, fairest of ellith, to be your bride. This I promised you I would grant if ever we should live to see such a time. Let it be known that Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris, son of Eärendil the Blessed, has kept his word this day."

So saying, Elrond took Arwen's hand and placed it in Aragorn's.

"May Illúvatar bless your union and may Elbereth smile upon it. May Arda know peace at last under your rule."

Aragorn smiled so warmly and tenderly on Arwen as Elrond spoke that he looked fit to burst. Then he slowly inclined his head, not taking his eyes off her once, and kissed the back of her hand.

The crowd cheered loudly – both mortals and elves together – and the trumpets sounded once more from on top of the walls.

As Celeborn, Galadriel, Erestor, Glorfindel and others now made their formal greetings to Aragorn, and others were welcomed by Gandalf and those of the Fellowship who recognised elves they knew, servants rushed forward to help with bags and baggage. Penny felt very shy at having a young boy insisting he take her saddle bag for her.

"I can manage," she was saying in Sindarin, though the boy did not understand her.

"Let him take it," Lindir laughed. "Let him be a part of all this, if he wishes."

"But Lindir-"

The decision was made for her as the boy, no more than twelve or so, literally pulled the thing out of her hands, swung it over his shoulder, and then stood there expectantly, a grin on his face, waiting for them to get moving. He filled the delay with satisfying his curiosity and examining Lindir closely, staring at him nearly unblinkingly and following his every move.

"You would have thought they had never seen an ellon before," Lindir muttered.

"Well, they have only seen three," Penny pointed out. "And to have so many of you all together like this is quite a sight, you have to admit."

"Wrong answer, Pen-ii," Eleniel muttered in her ear. "You are meant to say 'they have never seen as handsome and well-dressed an ellon as you before, Lindir.' Ellyn pride themselves on their appearance, after all."

"Ohhh! But of course. My apologies, Lindir." Penny smirked.

"Though of course what Eleniel really means to say is 'they have never seen an ellon who has such appalling taste in boots and who will insist on wearing old-fashioned braids in his hair'." Rhimlath had wandered up to join them.

Lindir narrowed his eyes at Rhimlath and shook his head, laughing. "There is nothing wrong with my boots, as you well know!"

"Yes, what is wrong with his boots?" Eleniel seemed confused.

"Too long in the toe for Galadhrim tastes, apparently" Lindir replied sourly.

"Perhaps you just have big feet?" Penny suggested.

Rhimlath, Eleniel and the others round them roared with laughter as Lindir spluttered in outrage.

"You see one is also slightly higher on the leg than the other." Rhimlath pointed out once he had recovered himself.

"Nonsense!" Lindir retorted.

Eleniel squinted. "Well… perhaps a little."

Lindir glared at her. "I made them myself," he declared hotly.

"Yes, so you said to me over breakfast," Rhimlath continued blithely. "For all your skill as a song-smith or horseman, you are clearly no cobbler, my friend."

Penny laughed out loud. "Elves not perfect in everything they set their minds to? For shame, Lindir! You are putting the good name of elves into disrepute!"

"Lady Pen-ii!" an excited voice called out to her. Penny turned and saw Sam and Merry waving at her. She smiled and waved back. They could not come over and talk. As important figures within their own right, they were officially part of the welcoming proceedings, and were already being beckoned by Faramir to join the party behind Aragorn and Arwen.

Aragorn and Arwen, still hand in hand, were to lead the walk through the entrance way and up the winding road through the city. Behind them were Elrond, his sons, Galadriel, Celeborn, Gandalf, the other members of the Fellowship, Faramir and other Gondorian and elvish nobles. The rest followed on behind. Everyone was on foot, since most of the horses would be stabled in the lowest circle, with only a few housed in the stable on the sixth circle. Those horses were loaded with baggage to make some of the servants' work a little easier.

Penny was happy they were walking since she wanted to savour every moment of this.

There was a gap just large enough for a cart to pass through in the barrier and that led them into a large square behind it. Straight ahead of them was the base of the huge pinnacle of rock that towered upwards all the way to the seventh circle. Penny craned her neck upwards, impressed at the scale of it even in the quickening dark.

Indeed the dark made it difficult to see very much of the city. Many in the crowd held torches or walked along with them, lighting the way, and nearly all the inhabited houses had their doors and windows open, with light pouring out onto the paved street below, as people watched as they passed by. Even so, all this only lit the immediate vicinity of the road and the walls of the houses, and merely with a flickering, yellow light that gave everything an indistinct, ruddy glow. From what she could see, it was clear this place was like nothing Penny had yet experienced in Middle-earth. There was a part of her that, despite knowing how very different this place would be, felt strangely at home to be once more surrounded by brick and stone and buildings. She was a city girl at heart, after all.

They passed by gates that opened into little courtyards and doors with family names inscribed in the lintels above them. Dogs ran barking up and down the street, small babies were held on shoulders to see the spectacle, and everywhere there was cheering, singing and hallooing to greet the would-be queen and her people.

Penny was looking right and left, peering into every dark corner with a thrill of excitement at being finally on the streets of Minas Tirith. Even in the dark, though, she could see there were many women who stood alone or in groups, some with young children with them and no menfolk beside them. There were also several men on crutches, bandaged or carrying terrible scars. These latter hung back, attempting to stay out of sight, but unable to resist seeing the procession through the city. No matter how much they tried not to be seen, ashamed perhaps of their disfigurements in the sight of such splendid beauty, Penny caught sight of them now and then. Nor was she the only one. Several times she noticed an elf smile or nod to one of these figures, eliciting a faint smile in response.

These were not the only evidences of War to be seen within the city walls. The entire first circle had taken a lot of damage. As they walked north towards the gate to the second circle, many buildings showed charring at the windows, their skeleton roofs of blackened beams just visible in the torch light against the darkening sky. Other houses had collapsed. Some were already under reconstruction, others still piles of rubble, and yet more which had been cleared – bare spaces with broken foundations ready for some other use or for someone to build again. While such damage was also visible on occasion in the second circle, it was rare. It was clear the first circle had taken the brunt of the reach of the enemy's siege engines.

So they snaked back and forth, zig-zagging their way from north to south to north again, passing through the great pinnacle of rock each time, as they made their way up through the city.

At long last they passed through the pinnacle of rock one last time and came to a large opening to their right that led to the seventh level and the Citadel.

There was a brief hiatus at this point, however, as horses were unloaded, baggage sorted and various Gondorian officials, in consultation with the elves, decided who would be housed where. Elrond and his sons, Galadriel, Celeborn, Glorfindel, Erestor and a few others would all have private chambers within the Citadel itself. Arwen, obviously, would be housed in her new rooms and a few of her friends would be staying with her in rooms nearby. The rest would be housed within the seventh or sixth circles.

It was clear the Gondorians were trying to house higher ranking elves in the seventh circle and were a little frustrated by what they saw as elvish lack of cooperation if not outright unconformity in resolving this issue given most of the elves considered themselves on a pretty much even social standing.

Aragorn, Arwen and the rest of the leading notables had headed on up to the Citadel, but Faramir returned and, with a few sharp words, had to insist that if the elves felt there was little distinction between them all, then so be it – let them be housed wherever they saw fit.

The Gondorian official he spoke to bowed his head and muttered an apology, though it was clear he was not terribly happy about it and still thought it all deeply odd. Penny began to realise what Erestor had warned about: that etiquette and social mores counted for a lot in Minas Tirith. Since it clearly meant so much to the Gondorian official to have some kind of nod to social niceties, several ellyn suggested ellith take whatever space was available on the seventh level. This mollified him enough to allow the rest of the billeting to be sorted out without any more complaint.

To make things a little easier, most were to be housed in large groups, taking over several rooms in a building if not the entire thing. Various elves peeled off with servants to see that the right baggages were taken to the right places while the rest of them headed up to the Citadel where they would be fed and watered after their long journey. The boy with Penny's saddle bag disappeared off in the company of various large baggages belonging to several ellith. It was clear Penny was to be housed somewhere in the seventh circle with Mireth and Eleniel.

Two Citadel guards were on duty on either side of the entrance way up to the Citadel, holding a salute, one arm fixed across their chests, as everyone filed past them. The path led up an incline, high walls on either side getting progressively shorter as they climbed, torches in the walls lighting the way.

As Penny finally reached the end of it, she gasped, even though she had known what she would see. The Tower of Ecthelion rose high into the night sky, and in front of it was a paved courtyard, surrounded by tall buildings, in the centre of which tinkled a fountain, the water's music echoing prettily off the walls. Standing beside it, newly planted and its boughs already filled with blossom, was a tall, white sapling. Looming huge in the distance was the great, dark shape of the mountain.

Penny turned to look behind her. There was no moon, but she could just make out the shadowy hint of the lookout on top of the rock pinnacle. Beyond it in the far distance was a long, black mass that blocked out the stars lowest in the horizon: the mountains of Mordor.

She could not quite believe she was here. She felt herself a little breathless, and not from the walk. She tried to look as natural as possible but when she turned round she could see Lindir throw a glance in her direction, as did Elrohir, though he was a little way off.

A slow trickle of servants were coming up from the entrance to the sixth level and disappeared into the dark, taking baggage to various rooms for the higher ranking guests and ellyth.

As the crowd moved off to a large building adjoining the tower, other nobles who had awaited their arrival here in the courtyard, Gondorian and Dúnedain, stepped forward to be introduced to or greeted by Elrond, Galadriel and the others. The Imladris elves greeted the Dúnedain warmly, quickly introducing them to their Galadhrim friends, most of whom had never met them before.

"Pen-ii, you remember Faelon?" Lindir gestured to a tall, thick-set Dúnadan beside him. "He was at Imladris for several days before the Dúnedain rode south."

Penny did not remember him but pretended she did.

"Well met, Faelon. I am glad to see you once more."

The man smiled. "Well met, indeed, Lady Pen-ii. Your Sindarin has improved excellently, I notice. Halbarad would have been most proud."

Penny gave a thin smile. It was the first mention of him here in this place, here where he had died. Not only that, but this man, a friend, perhaps even kin, perhaps one who saw him die for all she knew, was speaking of him in the past tense. She had known he was dead, but that just made it seem so brutally final somehow.

Penny swallowed.

He was watching her, a keen look in his eyes. "You did know that he-?" he started to ask, his voice quiet and gentle.

"Yes, yes," Penny said quickly. "Yes, Aragorn sent word north."

She knew her tone was perhaps a little brusquer than she had intended it, but the Dúnadan smiled kindly as if he understood.

"'King Elessar,' Pen-ii. We must abide by Gondorian formality now, do not forget," Lindir tried to sound bright.

Penny smiled and nodded, forcing herself to respond to his tone. "Of course. It will take some getting used to." She tried a short laugh. She was not really convincing anyone.

They were nearing a set of low, wide steps that led to a huge pair of doors into the hall. Tables and benches were laid out.

Lindir was greeting other Dúnedain as they passed him, grasping some by the arm, others into a brotherly embrace. Faelon still walked along beside Penny.

"Ah, there is one of our number I know you have not yet met, Lady Pen-ii," he suddenly said. "Arvain!"

A young Dúnadan, probably not many years older than Penny herself, was a little way down the hall and talking animatedly to Naurdir and his wife. He turned towards them at Faelon 's shout. He looked quizzically for a moment and then, seeing Lindir with them, broke into a broad smile, muttered something to Naurdir and came towards them.

"Lindir! It is good to see you!"

"And you, Arvain. You are looking well."

"This is Halbarad's youngest son," Faelon explained to Penny. "Arvain, this is Lady Pen-ii."

Penny was speechless. Arvain had turned to her instantly at the mention of her name, so it was clear he knew who she was and was no less surprised and delighted as she at this meeting. His smile turned into a toothy grin.

"Lady Pen-ii! We had hoped you might be here, but we could not have known for sure if you were to travel with Elrond or not. It is a great pleasure to meet you."

He grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it and bowing a little before Penny even knew what was happening. She was still staring at him in bewilderment.

"I am… very pleased to meet you, my lord," she mumbled.

They laughed.

"Ah, I think Lindir would tell you many a tale of my youth that would persuade you I was no lord, Lady Pen-ii-"

"Your 'youth'?" Faelon snorted. "You are still a youth, Arvain, to old hands like myself and Lindir here." He clapped Lindir round the shoulders as he spoke, Lindir joining in his laughter.

Arvain ignored them, though it seemed his grin broadened a little. "I thank you for your courtesy, Lady Pen-ii. Your Sindarin is fluent now, I see?"

"So fluent she has moved on to Westron," Lindir grinned.

"Indeed?" Arvain raised an eyebrow, matching Lindir's grin with his own. "Excellent! And how are you finding it, Lady Pen-ii?"

"Oh, well, a little difficult, in truth. I am no linguist, Rhimlath thinks Erestor cannot teach, and squabbling elves are not conducive to learning."

Arvain laughed loudly. "Who is this Rhimlath? I think I would like his company!"

"I have also been a little unwell, so I have learnt nothing since Rohan."

Arvain suddenly looked serious. "Unwell?"

But he got no chance to find out more just then as another voice interrupted them.

"Lady Pen-ii?"

Penny turned and, for a split second, froze.

It was Halbarad.

Author's Notes:

1. The order and formation of the elves in the wedding party as they arrived at Minas Tirith, the silver banner, the silver sceptre, etc are all described in 'Return of The King' at the end of the chapter "The King and the Steward". It also clear from this chapter that the day of the elves arrival was not know to Aragorn, indeed it was only through Gandalf's insistence that it would not be long that he may have had a vague idea. The sign was in finding the tree, and then when the tree came into blossom – only then did Aragorn know the moment would be very soon. Thus I have deliberately not had Prince Imrahil there, though at first I had included him, since he would have had his own people and lands to attend to now Sauron had fallen and the threat from the south was far less (though not completely gone). Without knowing when the marriage would take place, and with things to attend to, he could not reasonably hang around in Minas Tirith on the off-chance. I suspect the same was true for Eomer also – even once the elves had arrived in Rohan, there was still much to be done and he could not leave his people when he would have to be heading for Minas Tirith soon to fetch the body of Theoden anyway. This is my reasoning behind Eomer not being there (something known – JRRT made it clear he was not) nor Prince Imrahil (something unknown – I have surmised that to be the case for the purposes of this fic).

2. Ingold was the Gondorian guard who greeted Mithrandir and Pippin on their way into the Pelennor. He was not specified as captain. I have made him so. Consider him to either have been before the War, or else promoted by Aragorn for not refusing entry to Mithrandir and, one would like to think, holding the gate valiantly against the attack from the north.

3. The distances involved in the Pelennor are huge. The Rammas Echor is 10 leagues in length. At 3 miles to a league, that's 30 miles. The gate to Osgiliath was described as the most distant point in the Rammas Echor to Minas Tirith – 12 miles – but the northern gate is shown on JRRT's maps as only a little bit less, so I have thought of it at 10 miles (possibly a tad more). At a slow walking pace for horses and people that's 2mph, so getting from the gate to Minas Tirith alone would take 5 hours. And that's not including the stop off for lunch. 'The King and the Steward' describes the messengers arriving with news that the host of elves was not yet reached the Pelennor gate, and yet the stars were just appearing in the eastern sky when they finally reached Minas Tirith – so early evening/dusk. The messenger would no doubt have ridden hard and fast to get the King this news, hence their covering the distance in a far shorter time.

4. I have said there is no moon since JRRT's timeline (see the Appendices) makes it clear they arrive at the end of the month. Thus the moon would be either invisible or so thin and low in the sky as to be very difficult to see with the naked eye.