Faramir let out a relieved sigh as they reached the Osgiliath outpost. Determined to get there as soon as possible, the Steward had dispersed the camp at dawn, urging the party to ride swiftly. Along the way, they were met by a few Ithilien rangers, who escorted them for the rest of the journey until they reached the outpost by midday.

"Welcome, Lord Faramir," the Captain of the outpost greeted them as they entered through the large gate.

"Thank you, Captain," Faramir replied, dismounting. "With me is His Highness Prince Consort Legolas Thranduiliôn and other guests of importance."

"Welcome to Osgiliath Outpost, my Lords and Ladies," the Captain greeted the newcomers, signalling soldiers to take hold of the horses and assist the guests with their belongings.

"We will need comfortable rooms and a hot meal," Faramir continued. "We've been travelling from Minas Tirith for a day and a half, and the journey has been long."

"Certainly, my Lord," the Captain replied, leading them into the inner side of the fort. "Everything will be prepared at once."

"I will go and send a message to His Majesty informing him of our arrival," Faramir added, heading towards the pigeonry.

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Legolas, meanwhile, stood by the window of the bedroom assigned to him, gazing at the far horizon. The day and a half they spent journeying through the wild filled him with a sense of peace and renewal, the open air and golden sunlight soothing the burdens he carried. Yet now, back within stone walls, a slight disappointment tugged at him. He longed to continue their journey to Ithilien, to see the new homes of the Mirkwood elves who were residing there now and the villages where Men and Elves lived together. Mallorn and Elrohir had spoken of these places with pride that Legolas hadn't heard in a long time. He sighed, doubting that Faramir would allow them to leave before they were well-rested and certainly not after sunset. Soft knocks on the door brought him out of his thoughts as he pondered.

"Enter," he called.

Gwîneth peered from behind the door with a gentle smile.

'Legolas, everyone is waiting for you downstairs for lunch... especially the Hobbits.'

The Prince laughed, a sound that felt lighter than it had in days.

'Better go now before they raid the kitchen and eat everything!'

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After lunch, Aragorn headed to his office, yearning for a short nap. The weight of the past sleepless nights and the mounting emotional stress had taken its toll, and he felt he would collapse if he didn't get some rest. Entering his office, he lay on the couch, draped his left forearm over his eyes, and prepared to drift off when soft knocks sounded on the door. Groaning softly, Aragorn rose and granted entry to the knocker.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty," a page said as he entered. "But I came to deliver a message from the pigeonry."

Aragorn snatched the sealed message and opened it. As he read Faramir's letter, a smile softened his weary features. He was pleased that his husband and their friends had reached the outpost safely and without trouble. He had expected them to arrive yesterday, but considering the presence of the Hobbits, women, and a child with them, reaching the outpost today seemed reasonable.

/I wish they would reach Emyn Arnen safely,/ he thought. A pang of longing pierced his heart. He wished he had gone with them instead of remaining behind, but duty demanded he stay to thwart any potential disturbance caused by the outrageous parting gift Haldir's brother left. /They are more than capable of protecting themselves,/ Aragorn assured himself, though the reassurance did little to quell his unease.

"Thank you, my boy. You can return to your duties," Aragorn said, dismissing the page before finally dropping back onto the couch, eager to surrender to sleep. But just as he felt himself slipping into Lórien's embrace, soft knocks again drew him from the brink of slumber.

*What is it now?!* he cursed inwardly, sitting up with a grunt. "Enter," he called, his voice steady despite his frustration.

The door opened to reveal a tall, young Lord, his expression grave as he bowed respectfully before approaching the King.

"Your Majesty," the man began, his tone low and serious. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have something to tell you. I'm not sure how important it is, but in light of what you said yesterday, I feel you should know."

Aragorn looked up, sensing the weight of the news. He gestured for the Lord to sit opposite him.

"Speak, Lord Culino (Q. flame-coloured). What do you have to say?"

Lord Culino hesitated momentarily, then stepped closer, lowering his voice as if wary of being overheard.

"After our meeting, I took the liberty to check the city's security logs and came across something unusual. It is recorded that a few days ago, Lord Mortardur requested a permit, granting exemption passage through towns to an anonymous individual."

Aragorn's brow furrowed, his mind racing.

/Anonymous?/ The implications were troubling.

"An anonymous person? Are you certain?"

"Yes, my Lord," the young man said. "The request was processed swiftly, and there is no record of the person's identity, only that the order came directly from Lord Mortardur."

"And who issued it?"

"Lord Bonirun," Culino replied. "He's responsible for granting the passes."

The King frowned, the names stirring an unwelcome sense of foreboding. Mortardur and Bonirun—again, those two names surfaced in connection with all the unusual occurrences. His mind reeled with the implications. An anonymous permit was no small matter, especially if individuals of such high rank had issued it. This permit granted exemption from searches by the gates' guards of every town. This alone could mean many things, but none of them were good.

"You did well to bring this to me, Lord Culino. Thank you," Aragorn said after a thoughtful pause. "This matter requires immediate investigation. We cannot afford to overlook any detail. I will handle it personally from here. You may return to your duties."

The young Lord nodded, standing up and bowing his head before leaving the King's office.

Once alone, Aragorn's mind sharpened with purpose. He quickly called for the guard, instructing him to summon Glorfindel hastily. The situation was rapidly growing more complex, and he needed the Elven advisor by his side.

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Elrohir watched as Mallorn notched an arrow and aimed before slowly but surely drawing back the bowstring until it reached its limits. He released the arrow, which flew straight to the centre of the target. The blond Prince notched another arrow and released it. The arrow hit the target, almost near the first one.

After lunch, the Ladies and the Hobbits retired to rest while Faramir, Éomer, and Imrahil discussed their travel route with the outpost Captain, planning the next leg of their journey. Sensing his lover's gloominess since morning, Elrohir suggested an archery competition with him to lighten his mood. Gimli sat on a box in the training field, smoking his pipe as he watched the Elves shooting arrows.

"Can you top that, oh Mighty Son of Lord Elrond?" the Mirkwood elf asked, looking at the dark-haired Peredhel with a smug smirk.

Before Elrohir could reply, an arrow flew between them and straight into Mallorn's first arrow, splitting it in half. The two looked behind them to see Legolas standing a few feet away with an amused smirk. Gasps of wonder and awe from the soldiers around filled the place at the Elf's archery skills. They stared at him with admiration and wonder.

"Modesty isn't one of your virtues, Mallorn," he said as he approached the pair.

"The challenge is between Elrohir and me, Legolas. Don't interfere," Mallorn warned, his demeanour changing upon seeing his brother.

"Are you afraid of losing to me again, Brother?" Legolas asked, oblivious to his brother's change of mood.

Mallorn rolled his eyes in response.

"Again?" Elrohir inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't wish to boast, but my older brother has never been able to beat me in an archery match," Legolas stated proudly.

"Who is the immodest now, Legolas?" Mirkwood's Second Prince asked cynically.

"I'd like to see such a match," Elrohir said, eyeing his lover mischievously, who shot him a warning glare.

"I'm the one who taught you archery!" Mallorn said darkly, glaring at Legolas.

"No, it was Ada, Aredhel, and Captain Rosson," Legolas said. "As I recall, you used to hide when it was your turn to train me, forcing Rosson to do all the hard work. So, care for a contest, Brother?" the younger Elf asked pleasantly.

Mallorn's features became tight as he lowered his bow and arrow, shaking his head. 'I'm no longer in the mood. Excuse me,' he said slightly crudely in Elvish before walking away.

Legolas watched his brother, shocked at his tone.

"He's been in a bad mood since morning. Don't mind him," Elrohir explained gently before excusing himself and following his lover.

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Elrohir found his lover standing by the window in their shared room and staring at the horizon.

'Are you suffering from mood swings?' he asked jokingly.

Mallorn glared at him.

'Don't even joke about this matter,' he warned. 'I'm not pregnant, so stop bringing the subject up already.'

'Forgive me, Your Highness, but I can't find any other explanation for your bad mood this morning,' the Peredhel responded sharply. 'I have never seen you treat Legolas this way before.'

Mallorn took a deep breath, closing his eyes to calm himself.

'Mallorn, what's the matter?' Elrohir asked, placing a hand on his lover's shoulder. 'I can tell that something is bothering you.'

'Do you remember what you said about Legolas when we first met?' the blond Elf asked, looking deeply into his lover's brown eyes.

'About Legolas?' Elrohir inquired, trying to remember that day before shaking his head.

Mallorn sighed before walking away from the window to a nearby couch.

'You told me I can remember Naneth every time I see Legolas or hold him.'

'And?' Elrohir asked, joing his lover.

Mallorn let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes. He knew he shouldn't be having such thoughts or feelings this way, but last night, when he heard Legolas singing his mother's lullaby, old wounds re-opened, and Mallorn could not bear the toll of his unresolved emotions.

'I know perfectly well that I shouldn't have such thoughts or feel this way,' he said. 'But sometimes Legolas' resemblances to Nana bring me more grief than solace.'

'What?'

Mallorn looked at his lover with eyes full of sadness.

'Even after all this time, remembering how I lost Naneth cuts deeply through my heart, and seeing Legolas's resemblances to her only adds salt to the injury. And last night, I heard him singing a lullaby she used to sing to us as children. For a moment, it sounded like she was singing it.'

Elrohir sighed deeply before he joined his lover on the bench.

'Mallorn, losing your naneth is something you cannot get used to, no matter how long it has been. I know, Meleth. I lost my naneth, too, and it still hurts to think of her. However, Legolas bears no blame for your naneth's death nor for the way he looks.'

'I know,' Mallorn replied softly. 'I'm not blaming him for anything. It's just too hard for me to look at him sometimes.'

Elrohir smiled, wrapping an arm around his lover's shoulders.

'I'll leave you to yourself to calm down, and when you feel better, come and join us in the training grounds. Legolas would want to have a contest with his brother.' The Peredhel stood up and left the room without waiting for a reply.

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Legolas slowly raised his bow and pulled its string back to its limit. He was about to release the arrow when suddenly, out of nowhere, Alphros came running and hugged the unsuspecting Elf's leg, exclaiming his name happily. Yelling in surprise, Legolas released the arrow in a direction other than the target's. Fortunately, the stray arrow embedded itself into a tree trunk without hurting anyone.

"Alphros!" Legolas exclaimed, looking down with a frown at the boy, who looked up and smiled widely at the Elf, making it hard for Legolas to remain angry at him.

"Your Highness! I'm so sorry!"

Lothíriel rushed to them, followed closely by Éomer, who had met the Princess inside the fort and decided to follow her. Gwîneth, Éowyn, and the Hobbits followed close behind.

"He slipped from my hand and rushed away before I could catch him!" Lothíriel explained as she tried to pull Alphros away, but the young boy wailed as he resisted his aunt, desperately clinging to Legolas' leg.

"It's alright, Lady Lothíriel," Legolas said. "It's fortunate that no one was hurt."

"Alphros, how about we have a match with the swords?" Éomer said as he knelt in front of the boy. The boy looked at him before he looked at Legolas questioningly as if asking for the Elf's permission.

"It's alright, Alphros," the Elf answered. "Go and defeat the King of Rohan."

Alphros smiled widely before he released Legolas' leg, nodding eagerly.

Éomer smiled as he asked a passing soldier for a wooden training sword while Alphros unsheathed his small wooden sword from the scabbard he always carried.

"Shall we move away from the arrows' range?" Éomer suggested.

The young boy smiled broadly as he looked up at Éomer before running excitedly in the opposite direction, with the man and his aunt chasing him.

The Elf laughed lightly before walking back to the shooting range, deciding to get more practice. Seeing Alphros and Éomer's happy interaction lifted his spirits.

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Imrahil stood on a balcony overlooking the training ground, watching as the Prince Consort shot arrows at a target with Elrohir joining him. As he stared at the blond Elf, Imrahil's mind wandered to the first time he met the Mirkwood Prince during the War of the Ring. Their interaction had been limited, as Legolas stayed close to Aragorn and Gimli, the Dwarf. The only time he had an adequate conversation with the Elf was during the celebrations of the King's coronation, but even then, it wasn't enough for Imrahil to form a complete opinion of the Elven Prince. The stories he heard about Legolas spoke highly of his character, bravery, and honour. However, Imrahil couldn't help but feel a lingering worry in his heart regarding the Elven Prince's role in Gondor and King Elessar's life.

FLASHBACK

"My King, are you sure you don't want us to stay with you?" Imrahil asked as he caught up with Aragorn. "How can Faramir, King Éomer and I go on an outing while a murderer roams the castle? We can't all leave you in such a situation."

"Your presence with Legolas is also important," Aragorn said with an easy smile that didn't suit the situation. "I would feel more at ease if the three of you were to go with him."

Imrahil stared at the man, unable to understand why the King insisted on allowing his husband to go on such an outing when there was a crisis in the castle. Yes, he understood that the Prince was under stress and that this outing was supposed to relax him, but how could anyone relax after seeing such a sight as a dead elf on a tree?

Or did the King want his spouse away from any potential danger, perhaps?

"My Lord," the Prince of Dol Amroth tried again as he and Aragorn entered the latter's office. "I may understand your insistence on sending your husband to Ithilien, but why must I go as well? After all, Éomer, Faramir, your foster brother, and brother-in-law will be going."

Aragorn sighed deeply, taking a seat by the window.

"You need to go, Imrahil. I need someone on Legolas' side. He can be a handful sometimes, and even his brother cannot control him. And Faramir will not be able to manage him alone."

Imrahil raised his eyebrow, wondering if there was something the King wasn't telling him but chose not to comment.

The two men sat silently for a while, each seemingly lost in his thoughts. The Prince of Dol Amroth noted how harsh and tired the other man's handsome features had become, how dark the area underneath his eyes looked, and how visible the lines of worry and hardship on his forehead were. The Prince doubted this was a good time to voice his fears for his friend. However, his concern for Aragorn was threatening to overcome his preservation and patience. He had seen Aragorn's happiness during his wedding to Legolas, but now he was having second thoughts about whether the King was happy in his marital life. The evident detachment between the two royals since his arrival days ago bothered him greatly. Clearly, Aragorn and Legolas were drifting apart, which was taking its toll on the King more than the Elf. Lord Herumacil had narrated, in a very hushed voice when they were alone once, the rumours about the two royals' sleeping arrangements that had spread in the castle and all over the city. Though Imrahil knew that a significant part of them were false, he was concerned about their long-term effects on the people of Gondor and how they would perceive their rulers in the future.

"Your Majesty," he said, breaking the silence. "There is a matter that is greatly worrying me."

"What is it?"

Imrahil took a deep breath.

"You, Your Majesty," he replied softly.

"Me? What about me?" Aragorn asked, raising a surprised eyebrow,

"May I speak freely as a friend, my Lord?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Are you happy in your marriage?"

Aragorn's eyes widened, totally surprised at the sudden, unexpected question.

"Pardon me?" he managed to breathe.

"I asked you if you are happily married to Prince Legolas?"

Aragorn stared at his friend momentarily before averting his gaze away from Imrahil's piercing one.

"Both of us are going through a hard time—"

"This isn't what I meant," the Prince interrupted. "Are you happy or not, Aragorn?"

Aragorn sighed deeply before he stood up and walked towards the window. He peered outside, gazing at the horizon.

"I'm not sure," he replied softly.

Imrahil sighed as he stood up and walked to his friend.

"Aragorn," he said, touching the King's shoulder. "Pardon me for prying, but you are my friend, and I'm worried about you, so if I may, can I ask you a rather private question?"

Aragorn nodded in response.

"You've told me that you married Legolas to keep him from fading after his lover's death during the War. That was highly noble of you, but I still don't see how you would marry someone you feel no attachment to. Also, even if I could accept it, I can't understand why you kept this marriage after the War ended. Why didn't you annul it and marry the one you really love?"

"Because I did marry the one I love, Imrahil," Aragorn admitted.

"You mean you are in love with Legolas?" Imrahil asked. "Because I thought you were in love with an Elven Lady."

"Yes," Aragorn replied with a sad smile. "I did have feelings for Arwen, but Legolas was the first person to make my heart truly beat. But he was already in love with someone else then, so I allowed my heart to follow a different path, but ultimately, I failed to complete it. Legolas stayed a lingering hope in my heart. Thus, when I was asked to marry Legolas to save his life, I couldn't refuse, though I was apprehensive at the beginning."

"And does Legolas love you back, Aragorn?"

"I---I," Aragorn struggled to form an answer. "I think he feels guilty for loving me. Or maybe he's afraid to love and lose me. He said he doesn't want to lose someone he loves anymore. But it's not just that...I can see that he's struggling with something deeper, something he's not ready to share with me." Aragorn paused, his voice softening as he continued, "Our history together goes for long, Imrahil, and I know he cares deeply for me, and sometimes, I feel that he does love me very much. But there's a distance between us, an unspoken barrier that I can't seem to cross. It's like he's holding back, and I don't know if it's because of his past or because he fears what might come if he lets himself fully love me." Imrahil listened quietly, his concern evident as Aragorn went on. "I don't want to push him, but at the same time, it's hard not knowing where I stand with him. I've tried to be patient and give him the space he needs, but...I don't know how long I can keep pretending everything is fine. I want him to be happy, and I want us to be happy together, but it feels like we're both stuck in soft sands, unable to move forward." Aragorn sighed, gazing away. "I just wish I knew how to reach him. But I fear I might lose him entirely if I push too hard. And that's something I don't think I could bear." The King looked at his friend. "Imrahil, after knowing what it's like to be this close to him, I can't imagine my life without him!"

Imrahil listened to Aragorn, feeling sympathy for his friend's internal conflicts.

"Did he say he loves you? Even once?" he asked.

"He did," Aragorn replied. "But there is always a 'but' that followed his declaration."

"Is Legolas someone who would take his love declaration lightly?"

"No, never!"

"Aragorn," Imrahil said, reassuringly touching Aragorn's shoulder. "I can see how much you care for Legolas and how deeply this affects you. I believe true love is worth fighting for, even when it's complicated and fraught with challenges. Legolas, as everyone described him to me, is a noble soul, but I think he needs time to come to terms with his past and feelings for you."

Aragorn looked at Imrahil, a hint of hope flickering in his eyes.

"Do you really think so?"

"I do," Imrahil replied with conviction. "But in the meantime, you must be patient and supportive. Show him that you are there for him, no matter what. Let him know that he doesn't have to face his struggles alone. Sometimes, just knowing that someone is steadfastly by your side can make all the difference. I know it may be hard at times, but resilience will prevail in the end. And I happen to know that you're one of the most stubborn men I've met in my life."

"I suppose I am," Aragorn replied with a chuckle.

Imrahil smiled warmly at his friend.

"I need a promise from you as a friend," he said, "that you would find a solution to this situation. I hate to see you living in misery, my friend."

Aragorn stared at Imrahil for a long time before he nodded.

"Everything will be resolved once we catch the traitors, Imrahil. I promise you."

The Prince of Dol Amroth nodded, smiling slightly at the King before excusing himself.

END OF FLASHBACK

Imrahil shook off the memory as he watched Legolas and Elrohir practice. Talking to the King had opened his eyes to a new reality he had seen for the first time. Aragorn was in love with his husband, but he doubted the feeling was mutual or at least not as strong as his feelings. And as he left the office, he couldn't shake the lingering unease he felt after witnessing that side of the King. Aragorn had always been a man of immense strength and resolve, but the weariness in his voice and the weight of his words left Imrahil with a heavy heart. He had always admired Aragorn's ability to lead with wisdom and compassion, but now, more than ever, he worried for his friend's happiness.

/It's clear that Aragorn loves Legolas deeply,/ Imrahil thought, /but love alone may not be enough to overcome the pain and uncertainty that still binds them./ Imrahil sighed, determined to support Aragorn in any way he could. /If only there were more I could do to help him,/ he mused. /But for now, I can only be there when he needs a friend./

Imrahil wondered if he could speak to Legolas about his concerns for Aragorn. But he knew it wasn't his place to do so. The Elf could take his fears as an act of meddling or crossing his lines, especially when the situation between the two spouses was still fragile and sensitive. Lost in his thoughts, Imrahil didn't notice his daughter, who was a few paces away, laughing as Éomer played with young Alphros.

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Lothíriel laughed as Éomer faked a moan of pain when Alphros stabbed his leg with his wooden sword.

In the past few days, she had the pleasure of talking to the King of Rohan, whose first impression had been very different when they were first introduced to each other on his arrival in the White City. Lothíriel was under the impression that Éomer was a stoic warrior and a strict King, fooled by his sharp features that supported those impressions. But, once she started talking to him, she discovered he was the most down-to-earth, easygoing man, full of humour, and quite friendly. And his love for horses was something she appreciated the most, for she also had a love for them, which made their conversations more enjoyable.

"He got me! Alas! I am defeated! I cannot move a limb." Éomer exclaimed as he fell backwards in mock pain while Alphros ran around him, laughing at his victory.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" the Princess of Dol Amroth asked between her fits of laughter. "Your pride as a King must've suffered terribly after losing to a five-year-old!"

Éomer looked up at her with a mock hurt expression that didn't hide the glimmer of joy and happiness in his bluish-green eyes.

"Is that a mock I hear from you, My Lady?!"

"Maybe," Lothíriel giggled.

The Rohan King stood up and drew his sword.

"Then, my honour must be restored!" he looked at Alphros, who froze and stared back with a horrified expression. "Ready or not, you will pay for my loss, Little One!"

The young boy giggled before running away from Éomer. But before Éomer could follow, two matching battle cries were heard, and two small bodies bumped into him from behind, sending him tumbling on the ground with them.

Laughing, the Princess watched Merry and Pippin join forces with Alphros and help him in his 'battle' against the King. Éowyn and Gwîneth joined her under the large tree she was sitting under, giggling at Éomer wrestling with two Hobbits and a little boy.

"This is the first time I've seen my brother have this much fun," Éowyn said. "It has been long since I saw him laugh freely like this."

Lothíriel looked at the Rohan Princess.

"Ruling a country is not easy," The Princess of Dol Amroth sighed. "My father always told me that ruling is a lonely and bitter fate."

"That's true," Éowyn said. "But Éomer's sombreness is mostly because our house had been struck with many sadnesses and tragedies that had hardened my brother's heart. Only after the War ended did some peace come into our lives. However, it's the first time I see him so carefree."

"Lord Éomer's a strong man," Lothíriel replied softly.

"He's one of the strongest and bravest men I know," Éowyn answered, looking at the man she loved with such tenderness. "And the loneliest."

"He won't be lonely for a long time," Gwîneth spoke softly, looking at the Rohirrim Princess with a gentle smile.

"Whatever you mean, Lady Gwîneth?" Lothíriel asked.

The Elleth smiled mysteriously, winking at her as if she understood something the other two Ladies did not.

"I think you know, Your Highness," she said, smiling at the young Princess of Dol Amroth, who was flushing prettily.

The trio remained silent, watching Éomer playing with the Hobbits and the young boy.

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"Your Highness,"

Legolas frowned at Faramir, whom he had encountered in one of the fort's corridors, at how he addressed him. He had often told the Steward not to address him formally when alone, but the Steward seemed to insist on treating him like someone above him.

"I'm sorry, Legolas," Faramir corrected with a warm smile. "Old habits die hard, especially around so much royalty."

Legolas returned his smile.

"It's alright, Faramir. What did you want to talk about?"

"It's about our journey to Emyn Arnen tomorrow," Faramir said as he fell in step with the Prince Consort. "I'm thinking of increasing the guards escorting us."

"Why?"

"We can't afford to be caught off guard, especially as we will pass by Minas Morgul."

"Wasn't it cleansed already?"

"It was," Faramir said. "But the area surrounding it still holds Orcs' nests. The terrain is full of caves and tunnels where they can hide. It's still a dangerous place, and we must be vigilant."

"Do you expect an ambush?"

"No, but I don't want to risk it. Better be prepared for anything."

"I don't want to be surrounded by too many guards, Faramir. I'd rather not feel like a prisoner or unable to defend myself."

"It's for your own good, Legolas. I promised Aragorn to keep you safe, and I'll do my best to do so."

"This is a leisure trip, Faramir. We are not going to War, and I assure you I am more than capable of defending myself. I survived more battles than you've seen in your entire life. I can handle myself."

Faramir remained silent for a few seconds, contemplating what the Prince Consort said.

"How about a compromise? We will add ten more guards to our escort, for a total of twenty guards. They will remain discreet and at a distance unless needed. This way, we enhance our security without making you feel surrounded."

Legolas considered this for a moment before nodding.

"That sounds reasonable. Thank you, Faramir."

The Steward of Gondor smiled.

"It's settled then. We leave at dawn."

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Across the river, Shadow seethed as he waited in the forest for Mortardur's men. They were supposed to be here but had yet to arrive, making Shadow suspicious.

/Perhaps I shouldn't have relied on that stupid Mortardur in the first place,/ he thought angrily as he scanned the forest for any sign of movement. /Legolas and his party will likely leave tomorrow for Emyn Arnen, and my chance to take him away will slip through my fingers—all because of humans' inefficiency and foolishness!/

Quickly, Shadow took out a scrap of paper and a quill from a hidden pocket in his clothing and wrote a note to the moronic Lord before tying it to a bird's leg and releasing it.

'I'm going to kill that human if I miss my chance to kidnap Legolas,' he vowed, gritting his teeth.

Suddenly, his ears picked up rustling sounds nearby, and a foul smell filled his nostrils. Narrowing his eyes, Shadow turned and headed cautiously toward the sound. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss as he moved through the forest. The rustling grew louder, and the stench became almost unbearable. He paused, gripping the hilt of his Elven knife, and peered into the thick undergrowth.

A small band of orcs sat in an encampment, their blackened eyes glinting with malice. Shadow's heart sank as he watched them from above a tree; he hadn't anticipated encountering these foul creatures so close to Osgiliath.

/If Mortardur's men couldn't make it, maybe I could use these mindless beasts instead,/ he thought, watching the orcs, their black, foul-smelling skin almost melting into the forest's darkness. /The only question is how?/

He decided to follow them to their nest, talk to their leader, and bargain.

/They'll need the right bait to help me, and I don't think I can be that bait. But Legolas' companions, the Hobbits perhaps, would make a delicious meal for these disgusting creatures,/ he thought.

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Legolas entered his room that night, wearily kicking off his boots before collapsing onto the bed. Keeping up with the enthusiastic little Prince of Dol Amroth and the two Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, had drained him in a way that surprised him.

He chuckled softly to himself. Alphros was more energetic than Merry and Pippin combined, and after only a few hours of play, the Elven Prince felt utterly exhausted. It puzzled him how easily he got tired now. Not long ago, he could ride through the night or run for days without rest. But now he could barely keep pace with a child and two Hobbits.

Legolas sighed deeply, wondering if all the grief he had endured in recent months had weakened him or if something else was at play.

Míreth's memory surfaced in his mind, unbidden. He pictured her at the tender age of five, running and laughing in the Elven garden of the White Castle, her golden hair streaming behind her as she darted around in a beautiful sky-blue gown. Her turquoise eyes sparkled with happiness as he chased her, and then she would hide behind Aragorn, seeking shelter from him. Legolas closed his eyes, letting the image of Míreth linger. He could almost hear her laughter and see the joy in her eyes as she clung to Aragorn's legs. A bittersweet smile touched his lips but quickly gave way to a deep, aching sorrow.

What would she be like now? he wondered. Would she have inherited Haldir's strength or his own affinity for nature?

Or would she have taken after Aragorn's determination and stubbornness?

The unanswered questions weighed heavily on him, leaving a cold emptiness where warmth had briefly flickered. He turned onto his side, pulling the blankets around him, trying to shield himself from the pain. The laughter of Alphros and the Hobbits during the day had been a welcome distraction, a reminder that joy still existed, but now, in the solitude of his room, the silence was filled with echoes of what could have been. Legolas reached out instinctively to the space beside him, where Aragorn would lie if he were here. The emptiness felt like a void, and the absence of his husband's presence made the night feel even darker. He wondered why he would suddenly miss Aragorn's presence lying next to him when they hadn't been sleeping together for two months. They had been through so much together, yet some wounds felt as fresh as the day they were inflicted, standing between them.

/If only you were here, Aragorn,/ thought Legolas, his heart heavy with longing. /Perhaps you could help me find the peace I so desperately need./

He knew Aragorn was burdened with his own struggles and didn't want to add to them. Still, the weight of his grief and weariness was too much to bear alone. His thoughts drifted back to their shared moments—the quiet conversations, the gentle touches—and he longed for that connection and understanding that had once been so effortless.

Legolas sighed again, standing and moving to the window. He looked out at the twilight sky, the colours deepening into shades of purple and indigo, the soft chirping of night insects filling the air. The world outside continued to turn, but inside, his thoughts were a tangled mess, his heart heavy with unresolved emotions. His mind wandered to Mallorn, whose sudden coldness toward him had left him unsettled. Their bond had always been strong, forged through shared experiences and deep familial love. But now, something had shifted, and Legolas couldn't ignore the distressing feeling that something was seriously wrong.

Had he done something to upset Mallorn?

Or was there something deeper, something unspoken, that was causing this distance? Was Mallorn upset about him singing his mother's lullaby?

The uncertainty weighed heavily on him, and the idea of losing that connection with his brother was almost unbearable.

Legolas knew he needed to talk to Mallorn to bridge their growing gap, but the thought filled him with dread. What if Mallorn's coldness was a sign of something more profound that could irreparably fracture their bond?

He sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on him. He needed to find a way to reach Mallorn, to understand what was causing this distance before it grew any wider. But for now, he could only wait and hope the dawn would bring some clarity. Turning away from the window, Legolas let the room's darkness envelop him like a comforting shroud. The bed called to him, promising a brief escape from the turmoil of his thoughts, but as he lay down and pulled the blankets around him, the worries refused to be silenced.

Legolas closed his eyes with a heavy heart, wishing for the peace that had always eluded him since everything had changed. He longed for the strength to face whatever was coming, to hold onto the things that mattered most, and to find a way back to the light that had once guided him so clearly.

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A soldier rushed to Glorfindel's quarters in a hurry.

"My Lord!" he called, knocking urgently on the door. "My Lord!"

"What's the matter?" Glorfindel, who had just returned from Aragorn's office, asked from behind, making the soldier jump.

"I'm sorry, My Lord," the soldier said, twirling around his heel to face the Lord. "But we've intercepted this letter leaving Lord Mortardur's mansion." He handed the Elven Lord a small piece of paper. "There were two birds that flew from the mansion, but we managed to capture one!"

Glorfindel took the message and read it. His eyes widened as he scanned its contents. Without saying a word, he rushed towards Aragorn's chambers.

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"I'm leaving after Legolas," Aragorn declared as he stood firmly in his office, surrounded by Elrond, Gandalf, and Glorfindel.

His mind was a whirlwind of worry, the intercepted message from Lord Mortardur confirming his worst fears. Mortardur was conspiring with a dangerous ally, and Legolas was at risk. The Lord was instructing his men to meet someone he named Shadow and be at his disposal. The urge to leave immediately and protect his husband was overwhelming, but Elrond's calm voice held him back.

"I understand the urgency, Aragorn," Elrond said gently. "but rushing into this without a clear plan could endanger Legolas and the others even more."

Aragorn clenched his fists, the frustration evident in his stance.

"I can't just sit here while Legolas is in danger."

"Aragorn, you must think strategically," Gandalf said, stepping forward, his voice steady and reassuring. "Leaving now could cause more harm than good. Your sudden absence would be noticed, and the enemy might exploit it. We need a plan that ensures both the safety of your rule here and Legolas."

"And remember," Elrond continued, "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel will arrive tomorrow. As Gondor's King, you must be present to receive them."

Aragorn took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within him.

"I understand the need for diplomacy, Adar, but Legolas—"

"You can leave after Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel's arrival," Glorfindel interjected.

"But time is of the essence!" Aragorn insisted, his voice edged with desperation. "I can't stay here, doing nothing."

"You won't be doing nothing," Gandalf said reassuringly. "Our allies are arriving tomorrow, and they will aid in tracking our elusive foe. When the time is right, we'll move quickly. For now, patience is our best ally."

Glorfindel's hand on Aragorn's shoulder was firm.

"I will accompany you, Aragorn," Glorfidndel said. "I will personally ensure that everything is ready for our departure as soon as possible."

Aragorn nodded, though his heart still ached with the need to act. The thought of Legolas in danger filled him with a fear he hadn't felt in years.

"We need to warn Faramir and the others," he said, relenting. "They must be prepared for any attack."

"I'll ensure the message is sent immediately," Glorfindel replied. "And we'll have our forces ready to move at a moment's notice."

Aragorn took a deep breath, trying to focus on the immediate tasks at hand. Elrond moved to sit beside his son, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"We understand your concern, Estel. But you must balance your duties as King with your personal worries. Prepare yourself, but do not let fear guide your actions."

Aragorn sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing on him.

"You are right, Adar."

"What should be done with Lord Mortardur and Lord Bonirun?" Glorfindel spoke up.

"They will be arrested," Aragorn decided. "We have enough evidence to bring them to trial. And we should have captured Haldir's brother by the time I return." The three nodded in agreement. "Adar, I want you to take charge of the Castle affairs with Lord Herumacil until my return."

"Alright, Estel. As you wish," Elrond agreed, his tone carrying the quiet assurance that Aragorn needed.

"Thank you. I appreciate your support," The King said.

Elrond's hand remained on Aragorn's arm, his gaze steady.

"Remember, Aragorn, you are not alone in this. We are all here to help and will bring Legolas back safely."

The words offered some comfort, and Aragorn allowed himself a moment to breathe.

"I know, Adar. I just... I can't lose him."

"You won't," Elrond said firmly. "We will make sure of it."

With a final nod, Aragorn stood up, his mind already working on the next steps. They would wait for Celeborn and Galadriel's arrival, but as soon as possible, they would move to intercept Mortardur and his mysterious ally. And when they did, Aragorn vowed those responsible for threatening his family would answer for their actions.

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To Be Continued...