The cries of new life brought Aderthon to tears as he and Eldarion and Elfwine slowly entered the room in the Houses of Healing. Two hours ago, Lothuial had birthed a son. He was born with a head of dark hair, and eyes as blue as the ocean.

"He's cute," Aderthon sniffled. "Just like his mum."

Lothuial laughed and cried simultaneously. Elboron, ever present beside his wife, smiled at the half-elf's joke.

Eldarion stepped up to the bed. "Have you chosen a name yet?"

Lothuial looked at Elboron and he nodded. She turned back to the three guests. "Barahir."

"A fitting name," Elfwine nodded softly.

The three men left the couple and their son in peace soon after. Aragorn sent for Aderthon, and the three went back to the Citadel. The weather was still nice, despite the fast approaching darkness of evening. As Aderthon hurried to his King, he couldn't take his mind off the baby. Baby Barahir was quite possibly the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen.

"Aderthon," Aragorn said with a nod as the half elf entered the meeting room. "I have a job for you."

The man nodded immediately. "Name it."

"It is time one of Legolas' folk had a permanent presence here in Minas Tirith. I have liaisons with Rohan and Dunland here already, and now Merry and Pippin have decided to stay." Aragorn walked around the large table to where Aderthon stood. "I need you to go and ask Lord Legolas."

"Of course." He bowed his head. "What of the dwarves? Are they to have emissaries here as well?"

Aragorn nodded with a sigh. "I was going to send Elboron. I must now decide who will go, or else wait a while."

"When would you like me to start?" The younger man was eager to set off.

But Aragorn told him patience. "Tomorrow morning. For now, I have called the others for a meeting."

As he finished speaking, Eldarion, Amdirien, Arwen, Círeth and Fëalas entered the room. Eldarion led them, having fetched them for Aragorn. They all took their seats at the round table.

"I am concerned," Aragorn began, "as I'm sure you all are as well, about the new Queen of Rhûn."

Círeth snorted. "Concerned is an understatement, my lord."

Aragorn nodded, admitting her comment to be true. "Her name should be enough for concern. Why would a queen of Rhûn choose a Quenya name?"

This indeed had been the cause for concern for Aderthon and Eldarion as well. "Cat Queen" was a rough translation for the Quenya name "Tar-Mëonis." None had a clue as to what this entailed.

Eldarion spoke up. "Cat-Queen is an odd, and specific, name."

"Names aside," Aderthon shook his head. "What do you think her purpose is?"

"I am not sure," Aragorn admitted this quietly. He looked around. "The preservation of Barahir's body after at least a month dead was worrying as well."

"I'm glad I was not the only to notice this," Círeth agreed with him. "Barahir and Halion looked as though they'd died the day before."

"Perhaps they did," Fëalas pointed out. "The queen could've had them executed on the way here. What is the alternative?"

Everyone was silent. Arwen made eye contact with Aragorn, and Eldarion with Aderthon. Círeth looked down at the table, while Amdirien finally looked up.

"Black magic," Amdirien said quietly. "Correct?"

Aragorn nodded to his eldest daughter. "That is the only other explanation."

The room fell absolutely silent. Nothing stirred in the meeting room as each thought about the revelation.

"Meow."

The entire room looked up. Outside the door they heard scratching and purring.

"That must be Sídhil's new cat," Arwen chuckled. "She named her Snow."

Arwen got up and opened the door. A bright white kitty waltzed inside and jumped on Aderthon's lap. He was unsure of what to do; he'd never had a cat before.

"Ironic," Círeth chuckled. "And look, it likes you, Aderthon!"

"That's a first," joked Eldarion.

Aragorn smiled and shook his head. "Back to the matter at hand. There are two options here, neither good. If she recently killed Barahir, she's a murderer and a liar. If the queen didn't, then she practices black magic, which is worse."

"We should send men after her. Kill her now," Aderthon growled angrily as he pet the cat.

"And risk open war with a nation that had been building its army for fifty years, untested?" Amdirien shook her head. "We should at least try diplomacy first."

"With someone who is a sorceress?" Aderthon was incredulous.

"We don't know that for sure," Eldarion reminded him. He turned to the others. "But I agree, diplomacy will not work."

"I must think on this." Aragorn sighed and shook his head. "Whatever the answer, I fear it will be a poor choice."

They contemplated this last statement for a few moments before Aragorn dismissed them forlornly. Aderthon set the cat down at his feet and walked out. It chose to follow Eldarion this time around.

As he left the citadel, the sun was setting in the West. He frowned to himself, walking slowly down the few steps to the courtyard. The White Tree was before him, and he cocked his head to the side. Nearly fifteen years of peace had passed since the Battle for Arnor, since he had been forced to kill his sister Tinneth. He still missed her. Her favorite color, red, was all over the sky at sunset like paint that had been spilled.

"You seem sad," came a voice from behind him.

He turned in surprise to see Alodia of Rohan coming towards him. He hadn't expected to see her there.

Her face was solemn. "It is to be expected, I suppose. What with the death of Lord Barahir."

Aderthon felt tears threatening to spill forth. He nodded and turned away, back to looking at the White Tree. "He was a good friend."

"Will you avenge him?" Alodia gracefully moved towards him, placing her hand gently on his arm.

"This remains to be seen." His face grew dark as he thought about it. He wanted nothing more than to kill the woman who had probably murdered his friend. "It is up to King Elessar."

Alodia circled to his front. "Surely you have some say in the matter?"

The Suitors had decided it time to make a move. They could not allow Berúthiel to take control. They had to convince the King to send troops to destroy her.

"Of course." He sighed. "The King values my opinion. I have been in this fight for a while now, not as long as he of course, but long enough."

"This fight?" She wondered how much the royal family had figured out. "You think it connected to Arnor?"

"Halion was involved after all. That wretch." Aderthon clenched his fists.

Alodia leaned forward "How so? What could that mean?"

Aderthon paused and then laughed. "It means, I've said too much. I must sleep, for tomorrow I must ride."

Alodia smiled sweetly. "Sleep well, my lord."

Aderthon smiled back and bowed as he walked away. Finally turning his back to her, he walked down to the next level where his house was. At present, Merry and Pippin were living there too. His mother had wished it, once the two elderly hobbits moved to Minas Tirith. He didn't mind the company either, as the large house became lonely on his own.

As he went inside and closed the door behind himself, he wasn't surprised to find Merry and Pippin at the dining room table eating. The sun was well below the horizon and the moon rising.

"You're home late," Pippin said in surprise. "What did Aragorn need of you."

"We were discussing the new Queen of Rhûn," Aderthon explained with a heavy heart as he sat down at the end of the table.

Merry passed him some food. "I don't like it. She seems… unnatural."

"Well, she's either a murderer or a sorceress. I'm not sure which I'd rather have," Aderthon admitted as he bit into a roll.

"Chew with your mouth closed," Merry frowned.

"Fine, grandpa," Aderthon teased.

Merry rolled his eyes. "Was that aimed at my grey hair? Because that would be low, even for you."

The half-elf didn't answer as he stood from the table, already finished eating. He bid them goodnight, explaining he would be riding to Amon Loth the next morning.

"Tell Legolas he should come and visit us," Pippin insisted. "We haven't seen him in many a long year."

Aderthon agreed to do just that and opened the door to his parents' former bedroom. He lay Galmegil on the dresser across from his bed and changed into a pair of more comfortable pants. Slipping between his sheets, he dreamed of happy days.