Thranduil coolly sized up the attacking humans, keeping himself between them and Arwen. He had no doubt that she was perfectly capable of defending herself, but he had been spoiling for a fight since Legolas had disappeared and for all he knew, the ones attacking them now could be connected with the ones who had taken his son. He rather hoped that they were.

As the first two attackers reached him, the Elvenking feinted left, and then came in behind the guard of the closest man, ramming the pommel of his knife into the man’s temple and knocking him out cold. Thranduil then whipped around under the second man’s guard and hamstrung him, kicking him out of the way and as far from Arwen as possible. His lightening-quick defenses made the rest of the attackers cautious and they paused, plainly considering their options. Thranduil, for his part, remained silent, having learned long ago that silence and an icy glare were far more unnerving to humans than the taunts that worked best with orcs. Arwen merely waited quietly behind him, knives at the ready.

Finally, the men moved as one, evidently deciding that it was best to rush Thranduil all at once in hopes of overwhelming him. The Elvenking responded with a feral grin, further unnerving his opponents, and took two more out in rapid succession. His grin grew as he clearly heard Arwen dispatching the two that managed to slip past him. He concentrated on the remaining two, braining one with the pommel of the dagger that Arwen had given him.

The last was by far the best fighter of the bunch, and considerably more prudent than his companions. He saw the queen that they had sorely underestimated send the last of her attackers into oblivion and made to cut and run. Thranduil was on him in a heartbeat, knocking him to his knees and grasping his lank, unruly hair. Pulling the man’s head back to bare his throat, the Elvenking laid the blade of his knife against it, applying enough pressure to draw a thin line of blood. The man froze, turning terror-filled eyes up at the fell and fierce elven warrior who restrained him.

“If you are wise, you will not so much as twitch,” Thranduil ground out from between clenched teeth. “I am in a less than forgiving mood at the moment.” The man’s eyes closed as a shudder went through him. Thranduil noted with grim amusement that his captive had soiled himself.

“You have not lost your touch, it seems,” Arwen commented dryly, gathering up the discarded weapons and depositing them amid the heavily-thorned rose bushes that had been a gift from Samwise Gamgee.

“Indeed not,” he replied, his keen ears picking up the sounds of Citadel guards heading their way. “Assistance is on the way. Better late than not at all, I suppose.”

“Estel will have quite a bit to say to them, I should think.” Arwen wiped her daggers on the tunic of one of the men she had felled and stowed them back in their sheaths before loosing her sleeves and shaking them back into place.

“As would I in his place. Their lack of vigilance would have cost them their queen had she not been as capable with weapons as she is.” His expression eloquently communicated his approval of her and she gave him a wobbly smile, beginning to tremble as she reacted to the battle.

“Take this piece of filth,” Thranduil directed the stunned guardsman who had stopped directly in front of him, shoving the man he held into the guardsman’s hands. “And gather up his companions as well. They have dared to raise weapons against your queen.” The men snapped into action, showing no hesitation in obeying the Elvenking even though they were not beholden to do so.

One of the soldiers made to go to Arwen, who was struggling to maintain her composure, but Thranduil stopped him. “I will see to her.” The guard began to protest, but the Elvenking’s expression stopped the words on his tongue. “I have known her since she was in swaddling clothes, man of Gondor. I will see to her.” He moved swiftly to her side and drew her against his chest. “Easy, sweet child, easy. You did only what you had to.”

“I am far from a child, Aran Thranduil,” came the reply, muffled though it was by the folds of his tunic. He chuckled. [king]

“Compared to whom? Your spouse, certainly, but to me you will always be a child.” He brushed a leaf from her hair. “You did well, Arwen. Your Adar would be very proud of you.” She drew a deep breath and stepped back, straightening her shoulders.

“Thank you. I think I will be all right now.” She looked around, slightly startled to see their attackers gone. “What they lack in speed, they make up for in efficiency,” she commented, referring to the guardsmen.

“Too little, too late as far as Estel will see it. I almost pity them,” Thranduil replied, studying her carefully. She looked back at him and gave him a small smile.

“Then I should go with them and soften his anger. He will not be as harsh if he sees that I am unharmed.” He shook his head, thinking that nothing would soften his anger if he was Estel, but he held his tongue and merely offered her his arm. She took it with almost her usual serenity and they followed the guardsmen.

As both Arwen and Thranduil had predicted, Elessar had indeed had quite a bit to say to his guards. In the end, Arwen had acquired two human bodyguards to shadow her at all times as well as two elven ones, courtesy of Thranduil and with Elessar’s whole-hearted approval. She had grumbled a token amount before giving in to sooth her husband’s anxiety.

The five surviving attackers were taken immediately into custody to be questioned as soon as possible. Arwen had been unable to avoid killing her opponents, and the first one Thranduil had hit had shattered his skull on a flagstone when he had hit the ground. Arwen was heard to comment to her spouse that the mere sight of Thranduil would now likely be enough to have them gladly spilling all they knew. The Elvenking smiled grimly and left them then, returning to his rooms to remove the dust and blood from his person.

As soon as they were alone, Elessar swept his wife up into a fierce hug, burying his face in her raven hair and breathing a shuddering sigh of relief. Arwen hugged him back with equal fervor, murmuring reassurances.

“Too close, far too close,” he whispered into her hair. “I would not have survived had they harmed you.”

“They did not and they would not have, even had Thranduil not been there. I am not so easily subdued, Estel. My father and brothers have seen to that,” she replied, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “As well you know.” She smiled then and he could not help but smile in return.

“I know.” He kissed her tenderly. “But that does not mean that I am going to relax my vigilance until I have gotten to the bottom of this and seen justice done.”

“That is as it should be, my Estel.” She caressed his face lightly before regarding him with a sober expression. “There is more here than what meets the eye. We must be cautious, thorough, and very canny. We have not yet even glimpsed what lies beneath. I would be very surprised if this was not connected to Legolas’ disappearance.”

“The timing alone makes it suspect,” he replied, his brow furrowing. “I will be very interested to see what the ones who attacked you have to say.” Loud voices from outside the door drew their attention. “Word travels quickly, I see,” Elessar commented wryly as the door was flung open and his brothers-in-law rushed into the room.

“Arwen! Were you injured?” Elladan pulled his sister from her husband’s arms, looking her over carefully for injuries. Elrohir, never more than a step behind his twin, moved to Arwen’s other side, scanning her every bit as carefully as Elladan.

“Peace, brothers-mine! I am well, and not so much as a bruise to show for my adventure.” She gave Elessar an exasperated look and he stifled a laugh.

“Adventure?! Adventure, she calls it!” Elrohir glared at her. “You are almost killed and you call it adventure?”

“They were not trying to kill me, Elrohir,” Arwen stated calmly. “And before you ask, yes the knives came in very handy, thank you.” Her brother arched a brow at her.

“She dispatched two of them, thanks to those cleverly hidden knives that you gave her,” Elessar stated, meeting Arwen’s eyes, his own full of pride for her. The twins wordlessly drew her into an embrace between them. A moment later, Elrohir dragged Elessar in, making the family hug as complete as it could be, East of Valinor.

The first thing that Gimli was aware of was pain, in his head, in his arms, and in his chest. He tried to draw a deep breath, beginning to cough when his cracked ribs protested. Strong but gentle hands lifted him, careful not to cause him any more pain than necessary, and propped him up with pillows. A second set of hands, much softer and even gentler than the first, stroked his brow. A soft voice spoke to him.

“Awake, Gimli! Your friends are worried for you.”

His friends. Gimli knew there was something very important that he must remember about his friends, but his head ached fiercely and he could not think. He tried to force his eyes to open, but the lids were too heavy. He recognized the voice as belonging to Eowyn, and he thought he heard Elessar and Faramir, but he did not hear the elf. Now, that was odd. If he was injured, the elf should be hovering over him like a mother wolf over her cubs. Where was he?

The dwarf tried to force his lips to move, to say his closest friend’s name, but all he could manage was a groan. He heard Eowyn again then.

“I think he’s finally coming around,” the shield maiden turned princess of Ithilien called to the other occupants of the room. Gimli could hear movement and then Faramir’s voice.

“Yes, I believe you are right.” He seemed to move closer. “Gimli, can you hear me?” The dwarf managed an irritated growl and then heard Elessar chuckle.

“That would be a yes, I think.” One of the king’s strong hands supported Gimli’s head while the other held a cup to his lips. Cool, sweet water trickled down the dwarf’s parched throat. He desperately wanted more, but forced himself not to gulp. “Very good, my friend,” Elessar’s voice came again, “only a little at first until we see how it settles.” He slipped his hand from behind the dwarf’s head, allowing Gimli to rest back onto the pillows once more.

Gimli allowed himself to drift for a moment, letting the water settle in his stomach and trying to think as to how he had gotten hurt. With a blinding flash, the ambush came back to his and his eyes flew open, the force of his concern for his elven friend giving him the strength to not only open his eyes but to sit bolt upright, in spite of his injuries.

“Legolas!” Gimli looked about him wildly. “Where is Legolas, was he hurt?” Elessar’s hands gently grasped his shoulders, pushing him back down onto his pillows and restraining him.

“Gimli! Be still or you will aggravate your injuries.” He met his friend’s eyes solemnly. “Legolas is not here, my friend. He was taken after you were hurt. We do not know where he is.”

“Taken? Why?” Gimli could not fathom who would wish to harm Legolas.

“To use as leverage against me, it seems,” Elessar replied with a grimace. “I knew that I would have enemies, but that they would seek to use Legolas against me never occurred to me. Nor that they would make an attempt on Arwen, either.”

“Someone tried to harm Arwen?” Gimli asked, shocked that any would dare. The king nodded.

“This morning, right after we received Legolas’ belongings and a message that if the ones who are being held for the elven couple’s deaths are not released, he will be killed. They wish me to abdicate, as well,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Gimli snorted.

“He’d have your head if you did,” the dwarf replied. “You don’t give in to fanatics, lad. The elf would tell you the same.”

“His father did, though it pained him beyond belief to do so. But he also made another very valid point. As long as we have something they want, it is in their interest to keep Legolas alive.” He raked his hand through his already unruly locks. “We are searching everywhere we can think of as quickly as we can, and I will be questioning the ones who attacked Arwen to see what they know. She and Thranduil both believe that the events are related.” He made a quick survey of Gimli’s injuries. “You have not managed to tear any of your wounds open again, more’s the miracle. Stay in bed, Gimli. I will make certain that if there is any news, you will be among the first to hear it.” The king rose and walked to the door of the dwarf’s rooms. “I will send up some broth for you. Try to rest as much as you can.” With that he left the room, and Gimli settled in to worry about his dearest friend.