Title: Legolas’ Gift
Author: Estel Baggins
Author’s Email: macfal1219@comcast.net
Chapters: 69 through 71
Rating: NC-17
Warning: explicit sex- this fic is about to earn its NC-17 rating again. Yay!
Summary: new love, some good sex (with the usually-submissive playing dominant), a 
father’s heartbreak, and Arwen is pissed off. Enjoy!
Chapter Sixty-Nine
      Elrohir roused himself as the sky began to lighten in the east. Beside him, 
Halbarad stirred, shifting from sleep to wakefulness in that uncn that uncanny way the Dunedain 
had. Neither of them spoke or made as if to leave the tree, but both listened to the quiet 
singing that drifted up to them. The singer’s voice was rough, dark and rich, resembling 
the earth more than the air.
      “Malacai taught him that song,” Halbarad murmured, his breath ghosting against 
Elrohir’s neck. “We all learned it as young men, just after Aragorn had joined us, but 
Aaron kept confusing the verses. He wanted so badly to learn it that at last Malacai took 
him aside and worked with him. At a small celebration a month later, Aaron sang the 
song flawlessly before his father, Adom, Melchelai and Aragorn.”
      “How do you have such a good memory of that time?” Elrohir asked. “There are 
many times that are dark to me because of my succumbing to Darkness.”
      Halbarad put his hand on Elrohir’s arm, his thumb rubbing lightly over the 
smooth, elven cloth. “I guess it is because I hadn’t been completely seduced yet.” Then 
he shook his head. “Nay, that is not so. I had been the Shadow’s slave for close on five 
years by then, but Aragorn’s arrival was like the eye of a storm that gives a brief respite. I 
still sought to do harm- to myself and others- but that was harder to accomplish when 
Aragorn was nearby. Gradually, I built up defenses against his healing presence, but for a 
little time I was unable to block him totally. My memories, like yours, are spotty at best 
but I have some, granted to me by Aragorn’s then-unconscious power over the Shadow.”
      “He fought it without knowing what he fought or even why,” the elf murmured, 
reaching up to draw Halbarad’s hand to his chest. He closed his eyes, remembering. “You 
know that my brother was hurt, yes?”
      “Aye.” Halbarad squeezed Elrohir’s hand by way of comfort.
      “At first, when I brought Elladan back to Imladris, none were allowed to see him 
except Ada and myself. We feared that any wrong interference could kill him. 
Glorfindel….” He swallowed, cleared his throat, continued, “asked to tend him, but we 
refused. More. I punished him, beating him almost to death.” He shivered and was 
grateful when Halbarad tightened his embrace. “Estel saw the beating. He was so angry 
with me that he wouldn’t speak to me for a month. He was only twelve, and I hadn’t 
meant for him to see my anger.” Elrohir laughed humorlessly. “I see now that I have 
memories, too, old as they are. Perhaps I was wrong to want them.”
      “Speak on. Be purged of at least some of your pain,” Halbarad said.
      Below them, the singing continued. Neither paid any attention.
      “Estel… Well, he fought the Shadow the best way he knew how. He helped other 
slaves tend Glorfindel. He spent so much time with Glorfindel that he neglected his 
studies, his training and even his meals. Ada and I knew this, but we were so worried 
about Elladan…”
      “You had no concern to spare.”
      Elrohir nodded. “I’m glad you said it. I don’t think I could have. Six weeks after 
Elladan was home again, Ada and I came into his room preparing to try once again to 
reach him. He was awake, you see, but didn’t talk much.”
      The elf’s hands were trembling and Halbarad moved closer so he could wrap his 
arms about Elrohir fully. It was a little hard while they lay in the crotch of the tree, but 
the ranger managed it and Elrohir didn’t protest.
      “Estel and Glorfindel were there before us. At first, Ada and I both wanted to be 
angry, but then Elladan spoke. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘don’t make them leave.’ ” Elrohir’s 
voice broke. “Estel was sitting on the bed, holding Elladan’s hands. Elladan was propped 
up in the bed, leaning half against a pillow and half against Glorfindel. Sunlight shone 
through the window and even though it showed how pale and thin Elladan had become, it 
also showed the renewed spark in his eyes. He had come back to us.” Elrohir wept softly. 
“He would live.”
      Taking a breath, the elf collected himself. “From then on, Glorfindel and Estel 
were always welcome. They were there when Elladan sat up on his own for the first time 
and when he took his first steps. They were also there for many of his nightmares, though 
Glorfindel shielded Estel from them as much as he could. The constant tending took its 
toll on Estel, though; his childhood died during the autumn and winter he spent at 
Elladan’s side. By the time he turned thirteen the following spring, Estel had decided he 
wanted to be a healer. He still thought he was a nameless child with an ailing mother, but 
he resolved to heal all the hurts he saw around him.”
      Sighing, Elrohir asked, “Do you really want to hear all this?”
      “I do. Don’t stop, Elrohir. Please.”
      The elf smiled sadly. “All right, then. You asked. Estel’s need to cure every 
injury- it changed from want to need very quickly- meant that he and I were often at 
odds.” He blushed. “I was hurting Glorfindel almost constantly by then, though most of 
his injuries were hidden by his clothes.” He shook his head. “So that’s why I couldn’t be 
close with my foster brother. And he couldn’t be close to Elladan, because to be close to 
someone you must be able to confide in that person as well as empathize with him. 
Estel’s empathy grew by leaps and bounds during the year after Elladan’s rescue. But 
what Estel truly needed was a friend. His relationship with Glorfindel changed from 
student and teacher to close friends to lovers and, shortly before Estel learned of his true 
heritage, back to friends, though perhaps not so close.”
      “Why the change?” Halbarad asked. His eyes were wide with curiosity.
      “Estel was starting to understand the ways of the world- or at least the way things 
were in Imladris. He didn’t want to hurt Glorfindel by being forced to act like his master 
while they were still lovers. That was the winter before his twentieth birthday. In the 
summer of that year, he saw and was entranced by Arwen. Shortly after, he left.”
      “if he was in love with Arwen, I wonder why he coupled with Malacai during his 
first winter with us,” Halbarad said.
      “She blew him off,” Elrohir answered. “She called him a silly, simple, country-
bumpkin little boy and sent him away. My sister can be cruel like that.” His mouth had a 
wry twist to it as if he knew that he, of all people, shouldn’t be calling anyone cruel. But 
neither did he amend the statement.
      “And yet now they seem perfectly matched, or so Lady Galadriel has told me.”
      Elrohir scoffed. “Grandnana may know much about the world, but she doesn’t- or 
won’t- understand that Estel and Arwen aren’t meant for each other. Estel’s truest love is, 
and will always be, Legolas. Their dedication to each other, despite their strange parting 
and the passing of many long years, has proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
      “But what does your sister have to say about this?”
      “I know not. Perhaps, when we return, I will speak with her.”
      “No you won’t.” Halbarad squeezed Elrohir’s hands. “She is family.”
      He felt the tension creep into Elrohir’s shoulders and braced himself for what was 
to come. Halbarad sensed he was about to face decades, if not centuries, of pent-up, 
swirling, deadly-cold fury. He braced him while still conveying gentle encouragement. 
      “She abandoned Elladan when he was raped,” Elrohir said, his voice flat. “The 
time that Estel remembers wasn’t the first time my brother was taken, or even the second 
time. Our nana was attacked by orcs on the way to Lothlorien. Elladan and I drove the 
orcs off, but half a dozen of them returned at nightfall. I had gone on ahead to ask for 
help from my grandnana, but I never reached the borders of Lothlorien. I felt the first orc 
enter Elladan. I nearly fell off my horse when I felt it.” He shivered, but his voice 
remained expressionless, as if he was trying to protect himself. “Elladan heard them 
coming, of course, and used his elven cloak and the shelter of some rocks and fallen 
branches to conceal our mother. She was unconscious, and so never knew what 
happened. Elladan fought the orcs off as well as he could, but the first six were soon 
joined by many others. I don’t know if it was a cruel joke or a blessing, but instead of 
killing Elladan, the orcs captured him and…”
      “You don’t have to speak of it,” Halbarad said, instinctively knowing what 
Elrohir had to say and what could be left alone.
      “But you think it would help,” Elrohir answered.
      “Have you ever told anyone what happened to Elladan?”
      “No. How could I? Only Glorfindel tried to get me to talk once and I broke four 
of his ribs for asking.” Elrohir laughed again, this one sounded close to a sob. “I’m sure 
Elladan has told him, but I’ve never spoken of it, no.”
      ‘Okay, so this is something Elrohir does need to talk about.’ Halbarad said, “Then 
you should tell me. Please.”
      “You say please a lot.”
      “I won’t force you, Elrohir.”
      The elf laughed once again, and at last there was a trace of amusement in the 
sound. “You sound like Estel, as he was when he was getting ready to become a ranger.”
      “I’m honored.” Halbarad tightened his hold Elrohir’s hands for a moment. “Now, 
pray, stop stalling and continue.” He smiled. “Please.”
      Elrohir snorted, then sighed, readying himself for another burst of speech.
      “The orcs played with my brother,” the elf resumed, all emotion gone once again. 
“They striped him, beat him, touched him and raped him. They had forgotten completely 
about our mother, perhaps because Elladan was a livelier victim. They had bound him so 
he couldn’t fight, but he never submitted. Even though he was a virgin before they took 
him. He wasn’t a stranger to sex; he’d lain with Glorfindel only a few months ago, on the 
night we reached our majority, but he’d never been on the bottom. And he’d never heard 
a harsh word, let alone the insults those foul creatures flung at him.” Elrohir cleared his 
throat. “I think sometimes that it was the words that bothered my brother more than how 
he’d been touched. As we made our way to Lothlorien- I had nana on my horse and 
Elladan rode, though it hurt him- I tried to get Elladan to talk. All he would speak of- for 
months, now, not just days- were the taunts his tormentors threw at him.”
      “Maybe that was his way of dealing with the brutal totality of rape,” Halbarad 
said.
      “I thought so too at first. But when Elladan at last talked about the actual physical 
abuse, he said, ‘They raped me, but it’s only my body. I’ll heal. I’m an elf. But I can’t 
forget everything they said.’ I asked him why he credited anything the foul beasts had 
told him. ‘Because they broke my bond with you, Elrohir. And when they told me they 
had raped and killed you- and you didn’t come and didn’t come- I started to believe. And 
when I believed that, everything else seemed more likely. Including the fact that since my 
body reacted to what they were doing sometimes, there must have been a part of me that 
liked it.’ I thought I would die when he said that,” Elrohir whispered. “Elladan told me he 
didn’t believe it anymore, but I still felt sick unto death. Because he had believed the lies, 
if only for a little while.”
      When it was clear that Elrohir needed to rest before and if he started again, 
Halbarad said, “I almost made a slave boy think that. He was like Elladan: strong in what 
he knew, though he was swayed sometimes. And, like Saru, I think Elladan is strong 
enough to throw all such thoughts aside and move forward.” He drew the elf even closer, 
so that his nose was buried in the elf’s dark hair. Elrohir was trembling all over now, and 
his breathing came in quick, choked gasps. ‘I didn’t say the right thing,’ Halbarad 
thought. ‘This last time I wasn’t like Aragorn.’ He hugged Elrohir and rocked him. When 
the elf didn’t resist, Halbarad turned Elrohir in his arms so that the elf’s fair cheek was 
cushioned against the Ranger’s shoulder. Afraid to speak again, Halbarad hoped his 
embrace would convey the understanding and sympathy he felt.
      For a moment, Halbarad feared that Elrohir might see his gesture as an unwanted 
advance, but then he realized two things. First, Elrohir didn’t really know the Ranger’s 
past history and second, Elrohir had never been approached or seduced, so he wouldn’t 
know what to look for.
      ‘And since I have no intention of seducing my kindred spirit, he has nothing to 
fear.’
      “Elladan…” Elrohir coughed, then burrowed further into Halbarad’s embrace. 
“Elladan was taken again the day Arathorn died. Not by the orcs, but by men in the 
village where we were staying after we rescued Estel and Gilraen. I was gone again, 
tending to the lady’s injuries, and Elladan was comforting a distressed and exhausted 
Estel. Elladan took Estel outside to see the stars and the beautiful pattern a few clouds 
had made around the moon.”
      “Forgive me,” Halbarad said, not wanting to interrupt, but needing to know, “but 
how was the Lady Gilraen hurt?”
      “When Arathorn died, Elladan and I rode like the wind to his Dunedain, carrying 
his body and knowing that his heir, if he had one, needed to be taken to safety at once. 
But the camp was already under siege by a large host of men, orcs and wargs.” He waited 
as Halbarad drew in a breath, then calmed. “Elladan and I charged into the fray, 
determined that we would save Arathorn’s son, even as we had failed to protect Arathorn. 
We stayed close to each other, as was our habit in battle, but Elladan spotted Gilraen 
fighting three men that were trying to get to Estel. He charged the enemy, and I wasn’t 
quick enough to follow. An orc and warg team cut off my path to my brother. By the time 
I killed the creatures, Elladan had killed the men and had dismounted to fight others. He 
had urged Gilraen onto his horse, even though Arathorn was bound thereupon. He could 
have done little else, though I heard Gilraen’s scream of grief when she saw her husband.
      “I fought my way to Elladan’s side and we were able to hold the invaders away 
from Gilraen and her son until others of the Dunedain reached us. Arathorn’s second in 
command, Melchelai, was one of these, and another was Melchelai’s half-brother, 
Reynan. We killed nearly every invader and the rest fled. Sixty-four Dunedain went to 
their deaths that day, thirty-nine of them women and children.
      “But Estel still lived, and with him, his mother. Melchelai took Arathorn to bury 
him. Elladan and I rode for Imladris. But Gilraen had sustained terrible injuries and she 
needed to be tended. So we stopped in Archet.”
      Elrohir sighed and snuggled even closer to Halbarad. The ranger had the 
impression that no one had really held Elrohir, as an equal, in a very long time. Trusting 
to instinct, Halbarad smoothed Elrohir’s hair and placed a gentle kiss on the top of his 
head. Elrohir sighed again, though perhaps this time more in contentment than weariness.
      Elrohir resumed, “Elladan should have been able to fend off the five men who 
attacked him, but Estel… Estel pulled free of Elladan’s embrace and tried to attack with 
the small wooden dagger his father had made for him. Maybe Estel was angry about his 
father’s death, though I’m not sure he understood yet that his father was gone. Maybe he 
was only acting on the little bit of training he’d received as a Ranger.”
      “Dunedain children are not taught about offensive swordplay until they are much 
older,” Halbarad said. “They are taught a few defensive moves only. And they are taught 
to call for help.”
      Elrohir nodded, his hair brushing Halbarad’s chin. “It was Estel’s whistle for help 
that summoned me. I don’t know why I didn’t feel Elladan calling me. Perhaps the 
shadow had already been at work to break our connection. Whatever the reason, I was 
grateful for Estel’s summons.
      “One of the men picked up Estel and slapped him. Elladan, of course, had already 
moved to attack, but the one holding Estel drew a knife. He ordered Elladan to drop his 
knives. Elladan had no other choice. The other four men were hemming him in.” Elrohir 
groaned. “My nana once said- not long before she left these shores- that many men will 
fuck anything that moves, and most things that don’t. I’ve come to think she’s right. They 
bound Elladan, stripped him of weapons and clothes, threw Estel aside and took Elladan 
with them.”
      He drew back a little from Halbarad and met his gaze. “Never have I hated more 
the choice between love and duty. I did the expected thing: what needed to be done for 
the good of Middle Earth. I took Estel and Gilraen to Imladris.” He made sure Halbarad 
was looking right at him before he continued. “The hardest part of that journey was 
hearing Estel ask not just for his father but for…” Elrohir bit his lip and his eyes glinted 
as he fought back tears. “For Ell’dan. Ell’dan was what he called my brother, and my 
heart was squeezed, crushed, every time Estel said it.”
      When Halbarad nodded and brushed Elrohir’s hair out of his eyes, the elf smiled 
and leaned against the man once more, closing his eyes. Halbarad felt a shiver travel 
through the lithe body in his arms before Elrohir spoke. “I know exactly what they did to 
Elladan, how they chained his hands above his head, pushed him against a wall, and 
raped him. They made money off of him for two nights by loaning him out. When 
Elladan grew too weak to stand, they beat him before releasing him from the chains. 
When he was crumpled at their feet, they pissed on him. Then they dragged him to the 
side of the highway that led out of town and dropped him in a ditch. The ditch had water 
in it, but it was only an inch of water and Elladan had enough residual strength to turn 
over so he wouldn’t drown. There were leeches in the water, and they drank much of my 
brother’s blood before I arrived. They might have killed him, except two Dunedain who 
were traveling north from Harad and knew nothing of their chief’s death, came upon my 
brother. They rescued him, removing the leeches, washing him in clean water and 
wrapping him in one of their cloaks. One of them, now that I think about it, was Aaron’s 
uncle Aton. The other was Aton’s wife, Be’atri.  They fed Elladan and healed him as best 
they could. He told them of Arathorn’s death, and of how I had taken Estel and Gilraen to 
Imladris.”
      “But how did Elladan know that?”
      Elrohir smiled, though his head was turned so Halbarad couldn’t see it. “He knew 
me. The two Dunedain, of course, grieved for their lord, but thanked my brother for 
saving their last hope. Elladan answered, ‘I am only sorry my brother and I could not 
save Arathorn. I will spend the rest of my life making amends for that failing.’ They of 
course told him it wasn’t his fault, but Elladan wouldn’t listen. Until he was broken ten 
years later, Elladan was more of a father to Estel than Ada was. And he was certainly a 
better brother than me.” 
      Halbarad stirred, wanting to speak.
      Elrohir reached up and put two fingers to Halbarad’s lips. “Don’t argue about 
that, please. You know not what those years were like.” When it was clear Halbarad 
would not speak, Elrohir said, “I think Estel’s memories of Elladan as a strong, loving, 
healthy brother have been overshadowed by the last eight years of Estel’s stay with us, 
but believe me when I say that for a decade Estel was Elladan’s shadow and much of 
what Estel knows now of elven music, elven dances and elven ways he learned at 
Elladan’s knee. Everyone else was secondary to Elladan in Estel’s opinion. That’s 
probably why Estel would still come if Elladan needed him, even though Estel doesn’t 
have most of his memories from that time.”
      “Why would he block the good memories?” Halbarad felt slightly light-headed at 
the rush of information, but still he had questions.
      “He didn’t forget all at once, I’m sure. But he tended Elladan so often during 
those eight years, then he went off to more terrible things as he fought alongside the 
Dunedain. He simply forgot. It had nothing to do with blocking, unless the bad memories 
crowded out the good. I know Estel would never intentionally rid himself of pleasant 
memories. Even when he first left Imladris, he knew them for the shield they were.”
      Halbarad nodded. “I want to ask something else, but you don’t have to answer.”
      “Go ahead. I don’t mind. It’s only fair, since I’ve been unburdening my heart to 
you.”
      “How did you know everything Elladan went through? Did he tell you?”
      “No. When I found him in the care of Aton and Be’atri, I drew him onto my lap to 
hold him. Everything came at once, overwhelming me. I passed out and dreamed the 
whole thing as if I were Elladan.” Elrohir’s voice had dropped to the barest whisper. 
“Elladan didn’t mean for me to see any of it, but the combination of the drugs the 
Dunedain gave him to fight infection and his weakened body let the whole of his 
suffering pass to me. He used to blame himself for that. I don’t know if he still thinks of 
it, but at least now he has Glorfindel to help him. It’s hard to always be the strong one. 
Even when Elladan was so hurt and so lost, he wanted to be strong for Glorfindel. I 
encouraged it, forced it, actually, because I could see it was helping Elladan. Now I 
understand that a relationship has to work both ways, the help and comfort have to flow 
in both directions for the relationship to have any lasting value.”
      “Parents don’t need their children to take care of them,” Halbarad said quietly.
      Elrohir blinked. “True, but children do give back to their parents, or most do. I 
think that my true relationship with my Ada will only begin now.”
      Halbarad shook his head. “I have a more open view of what a relationship is, but I 
won’t argue with you.” He chuckled and stroked Elrohir’s hair. “Some things just aren’t 
worth it. And some relationships are too important to have little arguments creep up.” He 
wondered silently, ‘What nonsense am I talking?’
      But Elrohir said, “I agree.” He raised his head, meeting Halbarad’s gaze. Both of 
them hesitated, then Halbarad touched the side of Elrohir’s face. When the elf leaned into 
his palm, Halbarad moved a little closer so that their lips barely touched.
      “Tell me to stop and I will,” Halbarad whispered. “Tell me to take that kiss back, 
and I can.”
      “Why should I?” Elrohir asked as he kissed Halbarad just as briefly and gently. “I 
want to go slow with this, with us, but I don’t want to stop.”
      Halbarad kissed Elrohir’s lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead. “I am here for 
you, Elrohir.”
      “And I’m here for you, Halbarad.” Elrohir wrapped his arms around the ranger’s 
neck and kissed the man’s temple.
      From below them, silence drew their attention. As one, they glanced down and 
towards the fire. Aaron stood there, his back to them, his unlit pipe in his hand. Across 
from him, Glorfindel and Elladan were holding each other. Elladan was looking at 
Elrohir over Glorfindel’s shoulder. The elder twin smiled. 
      Elrohir smiled back, then he and Halbarad descended the tree. None spoke of 
what had just happened. The five of them broke camp in companionable silence, and 
when it was time to search further down the Silverlode, Aaron took the east bank with 
Glorfindel and Elladan, leaving the new couple to explore together.
***
      Kehydi paced as the sun rose and nature came awake around him. Some of the 
Dunedain- but surprising few- had approached him, asking what was wrong. But their 
barely-suppressed excitement and relief grated on the second-in-command’s nerves, and 
he sent them away as soon as he could manage it without being completely impolite. His 
mother had, predictably, been the hardest to drive away; now even she was gone. He had 
been expecting Saru for some time now, but as the sun climbed, and there was no sign of 
his husband, Kehydi began to harbor the hope that he would be able to issue his own 
orders once Aragorn left. The second-in-command had already decided that Aragorn 
would be accompanied from now on by some of his Dunedain. There was no mission 
Kehydi could conceive of where having his Dunedain wouldn’t be a boon to Aragorn. 
‘We travel light, swift and silent. How could Aragorn turn us away? Yes, he issued 
certain orders, but a dozen Dunedain won’t be missed. We can hold out own here until 
Aragorn calls us to Gondor without that dozen.’
      A hand fell on Kehydi’s shoulder and the man looked up, surprised to see Saru 
looking down at him with troubled eyes. Plastering a smile on his face, Kehydi drew Saru 
down to sit beside him. “Are you tired? If you are, you shouldn’t be out here,” he said, 
seeing the circles beneath Saru’s eyes. And speaking first would allow him to forestall 
any words his husband might have for him. ‘You had your chance, Saru,’ Kehydi 
thought. ‘I expected you long before this. But now I have made my decision and you 
won’t get a chance to sway me.’ He patted Saru’s shoulder and continued to smile.
      “I couldn’t sleep,” Saru answered. “Between Aragorn’s return, his obvious love 
for Legolas and your coolness towards those who would approach you, my mind has 
refused to quiet.”
      Kehydi blinked. “Saru… You never talk like this. What’s wrong with you?”
      Saru bit his lip. “I am afraid of the future. Of our future.”
      “The Dunedain will soon reside in Gondor once more. What is there to fear?” 
Kehydi put his arm around Saru’s shoulders and drew him close. But Saru didn’t lean 
against him as he would have at any other time.
      And his voice was different, too; not stronger, because you need courage to be 
stronger, but hopeful. “I’m not talking about the future of the Dunedain, not exactly. That 
future is as much in Aragorn’s hands as in ours, and many of us are doing all we can. 
Even were we all to die tomorrow, some names would shine on.”
      “In whose memories?” Kehydi asked. “Saru, we would all be dead. Please talk 
sense.” Again, he tried to encourage Saru to lean against him.
      Saru pulled away and refused to let Kehydi touch him. “We would live on in the 
memories of the woods, and that’s enough for me. But I’m worried about us, Kehydi; you 
and me. I’m worried that we’ll lose each other in the coming war.” He sighed when 
Kehydi just stared at him. “Please understand that it’s not death I’m afraid of. If we die, 
we’ll meet again beyond this world. But we look at things very differently and I’m scared 
we’ll get separated when we each go our own way.”
      Kehydi frowned. “We won’t go different ways. I’m the second-in-command; 
we’ll go my way.” He tried a smile and reached out for Saru once more.
      His husband shook his head. Why couldn’t Kehydi understand that a simple 
cuddle wasn’t going to fix things? ‘Well, part of that’s my fault,’ Saru thought, ‘because I 
used to let him comfort me. But this is too important to let it go for momentary peace and 
happiness.’ He sighed and met Kehydi’s gaze, knowing that he really had to say what 
was coming, but hating it just the same. “No, I won’t follow you. I’ll follow Aragorn, 
because he’s my chief. Soon he will be my king.”
      “Saru,” Kehydi’s voice was gentle and patient, “you can’t know if we’re going to 
win the war.”
      “Whether we win or lose, Aragorn will go to that end as king of Gondor and 
Arnor. I know this in my heart. But don’t change the subject. Right now, Aragorn is our 
chief. All of us have to follow him.”
      “But Saru,” Kehydi said, his voice just the same, “think. Aragorn is our chief and 
I am his second. Just as Aragorn will do what is best for us, so will I.”
      “Only if you do what Aragorn commands will that be true,” Saru answered, 
blushing. He had been trying to hold Kehydi’s gaze, but he couldn’t face his husband 
when he at last spoke the truth. ‘Legolas, why did you have to plant these thoughts in my 
head? No; why did I plant the thoughts and why did I listen to your words that addressed 
my own concerns? Why couldn’t I just forget my worries?’
      Unaware of Saru’s struggle, Kehydi exclaimed, “But we are doing the same thing: 
saving the Dunedain from the Shadow! How can you even think I wouldn’t do what’s 
best?” He caught Saru’s shoulder and squeezed- not too hard, he told himself.
      Saru’s head snapped up, but instead of the contrite look Kehydi had been 
expecting, the younger man’s eyes blazed. “Aragorn isn’t saving the Dunedain from the 
Shadow because that is his only calling. He’s saving them to save Middle Earth!”
      “What are you saying?” Kehydi had drawn Saru quite close, and Saru felt his 
husband’s breath on his face. “Are you saying Aragorn could sacrifice us?”
      “Yes, but no more than he… Kehydi, the Dunedain are Aragorn’s army as much 
as… only if he had to, and never recklessly or without cause!” Saru fought not to cry in 
front of Kehydi, but it was so hard. He couldn’t finish anything he wanted to say and 
Kehydi’s eyes were narrowed with rage.
      Kehydi shifted his grip to Saru’s upper arm and the former slave flinched, trying 
to curl into himself. “Look at me,” Kehydi whispered.
      Saru obeyed, his brown eyes more like a doe’s eyes than they had been in years.
      “Aragorn loves us and would never sacrifice us. I don’t want to hear you say that 
ever again. Think of what it would do to the rest of the Dunedain if you spouted lies like 
that! Don’t you remember the civil war? Do you want another? That’s one way we’ll be 
sold to the Shadow for sure!” He shook Saru. “Promise me you won’t say that again, 
Saru.”
      “I-I promise.” Saru was crying now. “I’m sorry, Kehydi. Please forgive me.”
      Kehydi pulled Saru to him, then let go of his arm and hugged him. “I love you, 
my Saru. Don’t forget that.”
      “I-I love you, too.” Saru wiped at his eyes. “Please forgive me.”
      “I do.” Kehydi kissed Saru’s forehead, then his lips. “Go get some sleep.”
      Saru stood and backed away. Resisting the temptation to bow, he turned and fled. 
As he stepped between two tents, effectively hiding from Kehydi’s gaze, he thought, 
‘And I couldn’t even get him to see that he’s on a different path than Aragorn. Right now, 
the paths are parallel. But there will come a turn soon; Kehydi will take it and think he’s 
still walking beside Aragorn, instead of behind him, where he should be.’ Saru shivered 
as he entered his tent. ‘And even if I couldn’t explain to Kehydi, I can’t leave Aragorn. I 
can’t lead my children the wrong way. If we leave Aragorn’s path, it would be like 
selling my babies for a little peace. Just as Father sold me.’
      Sinking onto the ground, not wanting to be too near the marriage bed, Saru 
allowed himself to dwell on the dream he’d had two nights ago, partially because he was 
still trying to figure it out and partially because he was desperate for the distraction. ‘I 
was going to tell Aragorn about it, except I couldn’t. He might tell me I have to go back 
and talk to my father, live with my father like Legolas did. And Legolas has already told 
me what a terrible man my father is.’
      Closing his eyes, he pictured the tall, intense, shouting man, the image a 
combination of his memory and the dream he’d had. In the dream, the man had been 
older, and Saru understood that he’d had another vision, this one of the present. So he had 
seen his father and would know what the man would look like if they ever met.
      ‘It’s almost impossible to believe that I am so high born, but it’s completely 
impossible to deny, considering the visions, Aragorn’s thoughts and my own memories. 
As much as I doubt it, want to deny it, I am a prince, though not legitimate because I was 
borne off a slave-woman.’
      As always happened when he mentioned his mother, even in passing, what he 
remembered of her would fill his mind. He couldn’t remember his mother’s face at all, 
but he could still hear her singing sometimes, and could feel the way she used to hold him 
against her at night when he was afraid or cold or hungry or just plain exhausted and 
unable to sleep. She had smelled of vanilla; this, too, he remembered, and he had always 
found comfort in that scent, though no one knew it, not even Kehydi. Saru shook his head 
and amended, ‘Not even Legolas or Cein or Aidan or Annaleh,’ for these four knew 
much more about him than his own husband did.
      ‘Wait. One person knew. And maybe he told his wife… but I doubt it. I think it 
was our own little secret.’
///Flashback///
      Saru couldn’t remember ever working so hard. Everything ached and he thought 
that if he never saw another destroyed house it would be too soon. Not because of the 
lifting, the shifting and the hauling, but because of the bodies or parts of bodies that he 
found sometimes. Every once in a while, he’d shift a beam and the person underneath 
would still be alive. But that happened less and less frequently as the day wore on.
      Tornados were so rare in Middle-Earth that Mordecai could count the number of 
occurrences since Elendil landed from Numenor on two hands. He’d explained this to the 
sixteen-year old Saru as the two of them ministered to the injured that had been laid in a 
makeshift tent the Rangers had erected on the edge of Bree. 
      “They’re usually not this localized,” he said as the sun rose and he applied 
tourniquet after bandage after herb-salve to the moaning Bree-landers. Mordecai had 
been speaking in Elvish, knowing that most people didn’t want a history lesson, but 
wanting Saru to know, all the same. “One reason this one didn’t destroy everything 
within twenty miles of here is because of the hills around Bree. The tornado plowed its 
way north and west, which meant it crossed several hills to reach Bree. But by the time it 
got here, it was only half its original strength and didn’t have enough energy left to leave 
the town. So it spiraled around here, then petered out.”
      Saru nodded as he soothed a weeping woman. Speaking softly in the Common 
Speech, he said, “I’m sure we’ll find your son, my lady. What’s his name?”
      “Gnorg.” She sobbed. “He has blue eyes and brown hair and he’s only six and 
please say you’ve found him and that he’s-”
      At that moment, Jamien entered the large tent, a child cradled in his arms. The 
child looked all right, just terrified. He clung to Jamien and wailed.
      The woman tried to push herself up. “Gnorg!”
      Jamien hurried towards her as the boy turned and reached for her.
      Saru turned to Mordecai as the woman embraced her son. “Master Malacai 
wanted me to help… move things.” He’d realized that he was still using Common Speech 
and didn’t want to frighten anyone.
      Mordecai nodded and called, “Jamien, do you need a little rest?”
      Jamien looked done in. “I can’t,” he said.
      “Yes you can. Saru’s going to help Malacai. Stay here with me and help me 
prepare salves and bandages.”
      Saru slipped outside into the morning wet, and was glad that it was only early 
spring and therefore shouldn’t get too hot. But he had reason to curse the season when he 
saw that the slippery, sticky, slimy ground would make it hard to move anything. He 
found Malacai working among a group that consisted of mostly Dunedain, but was also 
made up of a few Bree men that hadn’t been hurt.
      Without asking what he should do, Saru set to work beside his master, lending a 
hand to the shifting of beams.
      Almost at once, though, Malacai caught Saru’s hand and pressed a pair of gloves 
into his hands. “Wear these. You don’t need to be worrying about infected cuts.” And, 
when Saru took them, “Did Jamien find that little one’s parents?”
      “His mother, at least,” Saru answered. “Master Jamien stayed in with Master 
Mordecai and is helping him with the healing.”
      Malacai nodded, but there was no more breath for talk. 
      When the sun began to set twelve hours later, Malacai drew Saru from the 
wreckage. Side-by-side, they washed off the worst of the dirt and sweat, then Malacai led 
Saru to a small tent that had been erected away from the disaster that had once bee a 
village.
      Saru did his best not to wince as he crawled into the tent. Seemingly, Malacai 
could sense Saru’s pain, for he urged his slave to take off his tunic and lay on his 
stomach. Tension ran through the young man. Even though he’d lain with Malacai many 
times in the four years since his master introduced him to sexual intimacy, he didn’t think 
he had the energy to give himself over to Malacai.
      “Relax,” the older man murmured. He took a vial from his pack and uncorked it. 
At once, the sweet, comforting scent of vanilla filled the tent and Saru felt his tension 
melting away even as he tried to hold it there. He didn’t want his master to ruin his 
thoughts of his mother by calming him with her scent before seducing him. Unaware that 
he was crying, Saru bit his lip and tried not to give in to the feelings of safety the scent 
induced.
      “Saru?” Malacai laid down beside his slave, caressing Saru’s back with his 
calloused hand. “Saru, what’s wrong?”
      The slave dashed away his tears with the back of his hand. “I’m just tired, 
Master.” Then he looked away. Malacai would know he was lying, but the scent of 
vanilla was so strong that Saru didn’t think he could keep from weeping.
      “My Saru…” Malacai sat up and drew Saru close. As he moved so that Saru was 
cradled against his shoulder, he recorked the vial and set it aside. Then, slowly, he began 
to trail his fingers over Saru’s skin, finding knots and kneading them gently. But Saru 
didn’t ease under his hands and Malacai’s eyes filled with concern. “Saru, what is it? 
Please tell me.” He tilted Saru’s head up and brushed at the slave’s cheeks, pushing away 
fresh tears. “Aii, my Saru, who has hurt you?”
      Saru blinked. “No one, Master. I am simply…”
      “Don’t lie to me,” Malacai said, a sterner note entering his voice for a moment. 
But his expression remained open and kind, and when he spoke again it was with the 
utmost gentleness. “If you don’t want to tell me who hurt you, just say so. But I will keep 
you at my side even more tomorrow. Whoever hurt you won’t get a chance to do it 
again.”
      Saru shook his head. “No one hurt me, Master. It’s just…” His eyes flicked down 
to the vial.
      Malacai followed his gaze. “Aii, my Saru, that isn’t sexual oil. I was going to ease 
your muscles. You must be sore and very tired.” He tilted Saru’s head up again. “And 
you must know that if there is ever a time you are too exhausted to take me that all you 
need to do is say so.”
      “I… I know.” Saru gathered his courage. “I was thinking I was too tired for 
intimacy tonight, but that isn’t exactly why I’m afraid.” He was chewing his lip so hard 
he thought it might bleed soon. He left off it and clenched his hands into fists instead. 
“Where did you get vanilla oil?”
      Malacai blinked. “A woman gave it to me. She said it was for the Ranger who 
saved her son.”
      “Was the boy’s name Gnorg?”
      Malacai nodded. “But Jamien is allergic to vanilla. He told me I could keep it. I 
gave him one of the presents a father gave me for the rescuing of his twin girls.” He 
frowned. “I’ve never known you to touch vanilla, but surely you’ve cooked with it. You 
aren’t allergic, are you?”
      Saru shook his head. He noticed he was worrying his lip again and forced himself 
to stop. Still staring at the vial, he said, “My mother smelled of vanilla. I didn’t want… I 
didn’t want you to prepare me with it.” He blinked away frightened, grief-tears and 
added, “I guess it did have to do with you taking me.”
      Malacai was silent for a moment, then he picked up the vial. Opening one of 
Saru’s hands, he pressed the vial into the slave’s palm. “You keep it, then. If it reminds 
you of your family, keep it.”
      Saru looked up so fast he hit Malacai’s chin with the crown of his head. Both of 
them groaned, but then Saru asked, “I thought slaves shouldn’t remember their family.”
      “It can be dangerous if the slave shows any inclination of running. But you would 
never run. I know that, so I don’t fear your memories.”
      Saru nodded. “She’s dead anyway. I have no one to go back to. My father may 
still be alive but…” He pressed the vial to his chest with both hands and bowed his head, 
closing his eyes.
      “Will you tell me?” Malacai asked. “I won’t repeat it, and I won’t ask again if you 
tell me you don’t want to say.”
      Rarely did Malacai offer Saru such freedom, and the slave saw the opportunity for 
the gift it was. He knew he should repay the offer with truth. He raised his head and met 
Malacai’s eyes. “My father is the one who sold me. My mother was a… a whore and so I 
meant nothing to him.” No tears fell now; Saru didn’t grieve for his father and what the 
man had done to him. It was foolish to grieve about something a virtual stranger had done 
so long ago.
      Malacai was silent for a moment, then he said, “Saru, when I bought you, you 
couldn’t have been more than three. How can you remember all this?”
      “I was seven,” Saru answered, chewing at his lip once again. “I know I was small, 
I know I acted young, but…” He looked away. “It was better to be a young whore in 
Harad. The older I got, the more cruelly I was treated because I was seen as strong 
enough to take the beatings from which many men could derive pleasure.” He saw the 
confusion on Malacai’s face and explained, focusing only on his master’s face and not on 
the images that wanted to overtake him, “Slaves who were old enough were taken to a 
stage and beaten as a public spectacle. Many men… got off watching it.” His lip had split 
and blood ran down his chin; he took no notice. “They would throw silver coins and 
sometimes gold ones if I screamed loud enough or begged for more convincingly enough. 
Then, one night, after a show-” But he stopped. Malacai hadn’t asked, and Saru knew he 
had already said too much without solicitation. “I’m sorry, Master,” he whispered, 
dropping his gaze.
       But Malacai laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “Please tell me, Saru. If it hurts 
to tell, you don’t have to, but I ask you to.”
      His slave looked up once again. “Are you sure you want to hear? It was nothing.”
      “I want to hear.”
      Saru nodded and wiped distractedly at his chin. “After a show, there was a riot in 
the area in front of the stage. Men with knives were fighting over the chance to touch me, 
to have me for the night. My master was killed by a man’s servant. Banshi was the 
servant’s name, and his master was called Versh. Versh took me for himself. We stayed 
in the south for a few nights, then we began the journey north because my first master’s 
family was looking for me, or at least looking for Versh to pay what I was worth. We 
traveled north for what seemed like years. I lost more and more weight, not that I’d ever 
been heavy, and Versh started telling everyone we met that I was barely three. ”
      He swallowed. “Then you found me. Banshi had been begging his master for a 
chance with me, but Versh wouldn’t allow it. He said Banshi would kill me because he 
was so big and I was so thin by then. But you came…” He shivered and tears trickled 
down his cheeks. “I was so afraid, but I’d heard stories about the Rangers… I used to 
think I’d even seen one once in Harad, and that’s what I thought you were. I hoped you 
wouldn’t hurt me.”
      When Malacai drew Saru against him, the slave closed his eyes and relaxed into 
his embrace. “I know a little more,” Saru said. “Legolas told me that you met a man as 
you were leaving the slave market. He told me what he looked like. I know him, and I’m 
so glad I was asleep when he stopped you because… Because I probably would have 
screamed and then maybe you wouldn’t have wanted me.”
      “Oh, Saru…”
      The young man shuddered all over, his teeth even chattering. “I think he was my 
first master’s brother from the way Legolas described him.”
      “He seemed to know you,” Malacai answered. “He certainly seemed to know who 
you were, though I didn’t give it much thought at the time.” He caressed Saru’s hair. “My 
Saru, believe me when I say that you will never have to go back to Harad. No one will 
ever take you away from the Dunedain, and you will always be safe with us. Even if I 
died, you would pass first to my wife, then to Kehydi, then to Mordecai, then to Aaron. 
Someone will always be here to protect you.” He kissed the top of Saru’s head. “Please 
believe me, Saru. I won’t let anyone take you away from us.”
      Saru clung to Malacai with one hand and held the precious vial of vanilla against 
his chest with the other. Listening to Malacai’s voice rumbling against his ear, feeling the 
arms around him, he fell asleep.
///End Flashback///
      ‘No, Malacai didn’t tell anyone. He never even told anyone that I was older than 
they thought. And it didn’t really matter because even though I was twenty the year of the 
tornado, I looked sixteen, if that, so I may as well have been sixteen. Even I came to think 
of myself in that way; I forget a lot of the time that I am four years older than I say. And 
most of the time it doesn’t matter anyway because I don’t care about my birthday.’ 
      Saru stood, brushed at his tears, squared his shoulders, and resolved to get some 
sleep, even if it meant sleeping in the marriage bed. Remembering that day with Malacai 
had given him an unexpected answer to his questions. He understood now that with or 
without Kehydi, no matter how difficult it was, he would have to follow Aragorn. He 
couldn’t do anything else. And it wasn’t just because he was afraid of the Shadow. ‘It’s 
because that’s what Malacai would have done, and I owe every strength I have, few 
though they may be, to him. I will follow Aragorn.’
      Resolved and exhausted from so much suffering and upheaval, Saru crawled into 
bed and was asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.
***
      Even before Aragorn opened his eyes, he knew he was being watched. It wasn’t 
an unpleasant sense, but at the same time he knew it wasn’t Legolas. He opened his eyes 
and sat up, his hand dropping to his knife.
      Aidan was looking up at him from the ground, his eyes focused and intense. He 
didn’t look away and didn’t seem surprised by Aragon’s sudden movement. He was 
standing with his hand on his own knife, but it seemed an unconscious imitation, as if he 
always stood that way, ready for battle.
      ‘And maybe he does,’ Aragorn thought, remembering how he had often glanced 
at Aidan the night before only to see him with his hand near a weapon. ‘And not in anger 
but in defense does he do so,’ Aragorn added as he leapt lightly from the tree and landed 
beside Aidan.
      The boy who wasn’t a boy anymore turned to face him and he allowed his fingers 
to relax away from his knife. He smiled, and in that expression Aragorn saw all the trust 
and truth that this boy had been brought up to believe in. Trust in himself, trust in 
Aragorn, trust in the journey of the Dunedain, faith that they would all one day go, side-
by-side, to battle, and hope that they would be triumphant, but no attendant fear of defeat. 
There would be no failure in this boy’s future. Even were he to die on the field of battle, 
he would not consider it failure, but the fulfillment of his duty.
      “You have so much of your grandfather in you,” Aragorn murmured. “But do you 
know what battle is really like, Aidan? Do you know it outside the stories and the 
training?”
      “No,” Aidan answered, unashamed. “Not real battle, though I’ve fought in a few 
skirmishes with orcs and other men. And because I don’t know, I will stay close to those 
who have seen battle. And if I am permitted to live through my first true battle, I will 
learn from it and will go to the next with all the knowledge and strategy I gained at the 
first.”
      Aragorn nodded. “My noble and steadfast Dunadan, how glad I am to return and 
find warriors like you.”
      Aidan bowed. “Thank you.” For the first time since they had begun to talk, he 
looked nervous.
      “Speak, please.”
      “We talked last night about the road to Gondor.”
      “Yes.”
      “Will every Dunadan make that journey?”
      “Not at the same time, but I hope to bring all of my people to the city of our 
fathers, yes.”
      “Will any of us enter the final battle with you?”
      “I have hope for that,” Aragorn answered, meeting the young man’s eyes, “but for 
now I will be traveling with others in secret and the Dunedain cannot be with us.”
      “We don’t want to lose you again so soon.” Aidan took a step closer to Aragorn 
and gazed up at him, his eyes morose. “We don’t want to lose you again so soon,” he said 
again, his voice shaking slightly.
      Aragorn put his hands on Aidan’s shoulders. “I will always be with you even if I 
can’t talk to you. I know we will meet again, that death will not come between us. Have 
faith, Aidan. When everything around us is cast into darkness, faith is ever the light that 
will burn brightest.”
      “I know.” Aidan closed his eyes for a moment, then met Aragorn’s eyes once 
more. “I wanted to tell you about Halbarad and Aaron. They’ve gone to scout out the 
Silverlode. My father told you that, right?”
      ‘Actually, it was Annaleh who told me, but that’s of no importance.’ “What do 
you wish to tell me about them?”
      “Aaron has been watching out for Halbarad. I don’t understand why, but I was 
wondering if you thought Halbarad was a danger to us.” He added, “If you want my 
opinion first, I’ll give it.”
      ‘Could Halbarad still be in danger, even now? Aii, my Dunadan! Why couldn’t I 
have met you while I was here?’ “Go ahead.”
      “My papa trusts Halbarad. I don’t think it was like that when I was little, but it’s 
like that now. And my papa is hardly ever wrong about people. He knows everything 
about them, it seems, and he’s never fooled.”
      “You’ve seen him deal with others besides the Dunedain?” Aragorn asked, 
intrigued to hear this side of Saru described. He’d known that Saru was developing a 
sixth sense about people, but he hadn’t had a chance to really pay it much attention. All 
he’d been able to do, really, was be grateful for it, and acknowledge that Kehydi needed 
any help Saru could give him.
      “We journeyed to Bree when I was twelve. Cein and Aaron came with us. Some 
men spit at us, others were afraid of us, and still others tried to cheat us out of the goods 
we sought to trade. Aaron was angry with all of them, but my papa handled them with the 
same quiet confidence he handles fights here in the camp. No one could cheat him, and 
some became less afraid. Those that disdained us still did so, but they didn’t bother me 
when I saw that my papa dealt with them without becoming involved with them.” He 
shrugged. “I know that makes little sense. How could he deal with people without getting 
involved with them? But that’s what he did.”
      Aragorn nodded. “I’ve seen it done. Others I’ve known are good at it as well.”
      “Do you mean my grandfather?”
      The chief of the Dunedain raised an eyebrow. “Are you still reading my mind?”
      Aidan blushed. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend you, Lord Aragorn.”
      “No, Aidan, you didn’t.” Aragorn touched the young man’s shoulder. “Please 
don’t think it, not for a moment. I was only joking. I have no objections to your 
astuteness. Yes, I was speaking of Malacai, and of his father before him, and of Mordecai 
as well, your great-uncle.” Smiling to himself, he added, “And I was speaking of others 
of the Dunedain as well who have gained that skill over the years. Legolas is one such, as 
is Annaleh. And some day soon you will join their ranks if you go along as you have.” He 
paused, then said, “I can also read minds sometimes, or rather, read expressions. What do 
you want to tell me?”
      “My papa was confronted by a man named Bill Ferny. He tried to cheat us out of 
the wood we had come to trade. All he offered was some poorly-disguised rotten apples. 
He covered them with a few fresh ones and tried to sell the bushel. ‘You might want to 
rethink that,’ is what my papa said. Then, when Bill Ferny insisted that he was giving us 
good fruit, my papa smiled and said, ‘I’ll take the fruit, but you’re going to eat one of the 
pieces before I do. If you can’t eat it, our deal is off and I take the fresh fruit as payment 
for your lies.’ ”
      Aragorn grinned in delight. “He sounds so like Malacai.”
      Aidan nodded. “That’s what Aaron said afterwards. Bill Ferny hesitated, then he 
went and got a real bushel of decent apples.”
      Nodding, Aragorn smiled. But then he asked, “Why were you buying apples? 
There are plenty here.”
      “Our orchard to the east was destroyed by wargs the year Grandfather died. At 
that time, the trees we planted hadn’t brought forth fruit yet.” He glanced towards the 
east. “But all of this is just to tell you that Halbarad can be trusted. He’s trusted by my 
papa, anyway, and by my father, too. And Aaron trusts him; I think he only watches 
Halbarad because he wants to help. Grandnana said Aaron used to be a hothead, that he 
liked to fight everyone and anyone. But when my grandfather died, Aaron had to channel 
his tendencies in another direction. I guess that means he’s trying to be peaceful with the 
same ferocity he fought.”
      Aragorn chuckled even as he wondered at Aidan’s power over so many words and 
so much formal speaking. “Aidan, will you relax and talk to me the way you did when 
you called to me for help?”
      “I…” Aidan looked away. “I might be your second some day. I’m just trying to 
do what’s right and give you a full report.”
      “Aidan, you are so very responsible and mature. I could not ask for a better 
Dunadan in these times. But there must be a side to you that isn’t full of such formality. 
Let me see it. I want to know you, Aidan, not just as the son of my second, not just as a 
loyal Ranger, but as a friend.”
      “I…” Aidan met his gaze. “I can’t. Not now. We’re so close to war, all of us. And 
what will it matter if you know me as a friend? I’m loyal to you; I love you as all who 
know you come to love you after their own fashion. Please don’t ask me to drop my 
guard.”
      Aragorn gazed at him and felt sadness well up inside him. But he saw that Aidan 
wanted neither pity nor a friend and he knew he would have to accept that. For now. 
Aidan was right about one thing: war was almost upon them, and there wasn’t time for 
the small things that made life so precious. “I will accept that for now, but when we are in 
Gondor, I will find a way to encourage you to lower your shield.”
      “You won’t have to, my lord. I’ll lower it myself and be glad. But not now.”
      ‘And with that I will have to be content,’ Aragorn thought, ‘because there are 
other matters I must tend to.’ He nodded to Aidan, then glanced over his Ranger’s 
shoulder. Aidan also turned to look, and they were confronted by Kehydi, whose eyes 
burned with a mixture of anger, determination and exhaustion. ‘He hasn’t slept,’ Aragorn 
realized as he strode to meet his second-in-command. He sensed Aidan slip away, leaving 
them to talk.
      Before Aragorn could formulate an opening, yet welcoming, question, Kehydi 
spoke. “We’re going to fight with you, Aragorn. I can feel it. We can’t be left here to 
watch over people that hate us a moment longer. Please, if you march to glory, let us 
march with you.”
      Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, but Kehydi shook his head.
      “Wait, please. I think you’re trying to either protect us, or you don’t trust us to 
walk with you and be stealthy. We can do that. Everyone here is ready to follow you to 
Gondor. How can you leave so many willing fighters here to suffer? We need you and we 
can’t lose you again. Please don’t tell us we have to stay here and watch out for those that 
hate us a moment longer. Let us follow you into glory. Don’t leave us here to grieve and 
wonder if you’ll ever return for us. We can’t stand it. You’ve left us alone for so long, 
and yet we are still loyal to you. Don’t spit on that, Aragorn. We need you and you need 
us, even if you’ve gotten along for so long by yourself. Times have changed, your hour is 
near, and we long to see you.” He grabbed the front of Aragorn’s cloak and gazed up at 
him, his eyes filled with a species of anger that was closely related to self-righteousness. 
“You can’t do this to us. You can’t hurt us when we’ve done so much for you. Think 
about it! Even if you succeeded without us, what would stop you from never coming back 
for us or never sending for us? What would stop you, once you had everything you want 
in Gondor? We’re just your army; I know that’s how you think of us, but that doesn’t 
mean you can leave us to languish out here for the rest of our days.” He glanced at 
Aragorn’s face and saw nothing there; no anger, no disbelief, no sorrow. Scowling, 
Kehydi pressed on. “Have you noticed that the women aren’t having babies? It’s because 
we’re afraid you’re going to just leave us out here and we don’t want to bring any new 
lives into the suffering existence you’ve condemned us to.”
      Still, Aragorn didn’t speak. Kehydi’s eyes narrowed and he released Aragorn’s 
cloak so he could raise a fist. “Don’t you care? Don’t you care, if not for us, that I’ve 
found you out and you won’t have your army? Or have you found others to serve as your 
army? Do the Dunedain not matter to you anymore?” He raised his fist. “Say something!”
      ‘And so we do this again. First with Halbarad, and now with Kehydi- my second-
in-command, the man I want to be able to go to.’
      ‘The man you knew, even in the beginning, that you would never be able to trust 
like you trusted my brother.’
      ‘Mordecai, how can you say that?’
      But as quickly as Malacai’s brother had been there, he was gone, leaving Aragorn 
to face Kehydi alone.
      ‘Which is as it should be,’ the chief of the Dunedain knew. He gazed at Kehydi 
and waited to see if the man would hit him. ‘And will I let myself be hit?’ But it wasn’t a 
real question, because Aragorn already knew the answer.
      When Kehydi’s fist connected with the side of his head, Aragorn didn’t react. He 
had already planted himself so that he would sway with the blows, would allow himself 
to sway, but so he wouldn’t be knocked off his feet or even forced to take a step back to 
keep his balance.
      Kehydi had already taken a step back, afraid that Aragorn would come after him. 
But when his chief simply continued to stand there and meet his gaze, Kehydi jumped 
forward and tried to use his weight to bear Aragorn to the ground. Aragorn would not 
yield, and Kehydi found himself stumbling backwards.
      Before he could fall, Aragorn caught his arm and helped him regain his balance. 
      Kehydi pulled away from him, the light in his eyes changing from self-righteous 
anger to astonishment.
      “Please don’t fight me, Dunadan. Not when there is so much that must be done 
before the end,” Aragorn said quietly. He hadn’t released Kehydi’s arm. When it was 
apparent that Kehydi couldn’t think of anything to say, Aragorn continued, “The 
Dunedain are my people. I belong to them as much as they belong to me. I would sooner 
give myself over to Sauron than to allow one of you to be taken by him. Please believe 
me when I say that if I could take you and have hope for this mission, I would. Please 
believe that I will call for you as soon as I may, and that I want all of you to stand on the 
field of battle beside me and to know the end of all our labors.”
      Kehydi wasn’t looking at him, but Aragorn could read the uncertainty in his 
Ranger’s posture, so he said, “I missed you every day I was parted from you.” He 
reached out when Kehydi looked up. The younger Ranger’s eyes had filled with a hurt 
that stabbed at Aragorn’s heart. “And when I said ‘you’ I didn’t just meant he Dunedain 
as a whole. I meant you, Kehydi. I prayed often that you would be guided in the way of 
our people and that you would find strength in our shared heritage, and in the shared 
struggle. Because even if I was on the other side of the Misty Mountains, even if my 
mission kept me in Harad and Umbar, I was doing the same as you: defending people 
who knew it not, and if they had known, wouldn’t have believed. Our missions are 
identical, Kehydi. Please see that. I no more want to leave you out of events than you 
want to be left out. But that time is not now and we cannot hope for it to come in the next 
few hours. I must return to Rivendell and I must speak with Gandalf and Elrond’s council 
to know what must be done.”
      Kehydi swallowed. ‘Then, if you don’t know, why are you so sure that we will be 
denied the opportunity to come with you?”
      “Because Gandalf’s hope lies in secrecy and in a very small company. I will 
petition for one of you to come with me, but I think that won’t be allowed.” He smiled 
wanly. “In truth, Kehydi, I know not if even I will be permitted to go. If I am not allowed, 
then I will make for Gondor with every Dunadan at my side.”
      “But you’re sure Elrond will ask you to come.”
      “Yes.” Aragorn could feel Kehydi’s mounting shame like a thickening fog 
dividing them. At once, he reached out to clear the screen away. “Kehydi, my trusted 
second, please listen to me.” Kehydi didn’t look at him, but Aragorn didn’t press him for 
the visual contact. “Our road has been hard from the beginning, and we all knew it. 
Please don’t despair now that we are so close. I would never leave you, and I will not 
allow anything to come between us. Trust me that we will see each other again.”
      Kehydi raised his head, but his eyes kept flicking away from Aragorn’s gaze. “I 
can’t do this. I can’t do what you ask. I can’t abide here any longer. We’re going to die if 
you leave. I can’t just sit back and watch everyone die.” He found a reserve of courage 
and met Aragorn’s eyes. “You weren’t here and my father died. And my son died. And so 
many died. Please don’t leave us again.” And he burst into tears.
      Aragorn drew the younger man against him and held him as he had held Legolas 
many times long ago. Rocking Kehydi gently, he whispered, “I wouldn’t leave you 
without hope or without protection, Kehydi. And I wouldn’t leave you without a way to 
prevail against the darkness.”
      “I can’t fight alone anymore and I can’t lead. I’ll doom us all to the Shadow. I’ll 
lead us into eternal slavery and never even see the warning signs!” Kehydi threw up his 
hands.
      ‘How like a child you still are, my second.’ Aragorn didn’t feel the least guilt in 
the thought and he only resolved to be grateful that Kehydi had come to him before he 
had to leave again. “You will not lead alone. None need to know it, but I will have three 
captains to lead the Dunedain while I am gone. They will know your secret, and we will 
know it, but no one else will. And this is not a defeat, Kehydi, but a providence. If you 
hadn’t come to me, then all would have been lost. But you showed enough prescience to 
confront me and tell me your fears.”
      “It wasn’t foreknowledge,” Kehydi answered. “It was fear. Saru said we are your 
army.” He bit his lip. “He also said you would never let us die needlessly, but I didn’t 
listen to that.” Grief filled his eyes. “I have hurt him again. I told him he was leading us 
to another civil war. I-I grabbed his arm as if he was still a slave.” Tears filled his eyes, 
but Kehydi dashed them away. “I’m nothing but a weak vessel. Just let someone else 
lead.”
      “I cannot do that, Kehydi.”
      “Just because of stupid tradition? Aragorn, there’s got to be an exception for 
things like this!”
      “There is. Others are going to help you. Do you think you’re the only Dunadan to 
ever have trouble filling his post?” Aragorn saw by Kehydi’s eyes that, yes, his Dunadan 
had thought just that. “Aradel could not lead, and so his second worked with him through 
everything and none knew it except the wives of those two men. Your situation will be 
similar to that, except two people will help you, and more because I cannot recommend 
one single Dunadan to help you than because you need more help than Aradel needed.” 
He rested a hand on Kehydi’s shoulder. “Will you agree to try this, Kehydi? I do not 
think the end, for good or ill, is far off. If you can hold on for as much as two years, 
perhaps as little as six months, all will be well. I have faith in you, Kehydi, that you can 
keep to our path. Others will walk beside you instead of behind you and will fortify you 
against all attack.”
      “Who will you ask to help me?” Kehydi asked. He looked both hopeful and 
unsure, as if it was too much to hope for that everything would be all right just as 
Aragorn said.
      “Annaleh will be one, and I am not yet sure of the other. But one thing I do know: 
Legolas and I will not leave until this is resolved. I would never leave you lost, Kehydi.”
      “I know.” He bowed. “Forgive me, Aragorn; I’m trying. I really am.”
      “I know you are. Come. Let’s get something to eat and then I will do some 
thinking.”
      Side-by-side, chief and second walked towards the center of the camp.
Chapter Seventy
      “It’s strange and make no mistake,” Sam said as he groomed Bill the Pony, 
brushing out his mane and tending to his hooves and generally keeping himself busy. He 
and Frodo would be leaving at some point, and Sam planned to be ready. “We’re going to 
a fiery mountain somewhere and we’re going to see things I’ve never seen, but I don’t 
want to go. Make no mistake: I’ll go where Mister Frodo leads. But I’ve already had 
enough excitement for myself. I’ve seen Black Riders and met strangers and gotten to 
spend time with elves. What more could I want, except to go home and sit in front of a 
fire and put my feet up?”
      Bill nudged the hobbit with his nose and Sam nodded.
      “Maybe I want something else, too, but it can’t happen. Mister Frodo won’t 
notice. Besides,” he said, leaning a little into his brushing, turning it into a massage as 
well as a brushing, “it’s all right with me if things stay this way. I could make myself 
happy with someone else.” 
      Bill blew air through his nose.
      “Not perfectly happy; only serving Mister Frodo can make me like that, but happy 
enough. I won’t burden Mister Frodo with my feelings right now. He’s already got so 
much to deal with. I’ll just help him as far as he has to go, then maybe I’ll tell him. Or 
maybe, by then, he’ll just need me to be his gardener and I won’t tell him. I can be happy 
as long as I’m with him. I don’t have to tell him I love him. I’ve known him for so long 
without telling him that. Why would I have to tell him now?”
      Bill sighed.
      “You’re wrong about that, Bill. Nothing has to change. No matter where we go, 
I’ll always be Frodo’s help. I’ll never let anything happen to him.” He smiled to himself. 
“And I’m completely happy the way we are. I don’t need him to know.”
      Bill shook his head.
      “You’ll see,” Sam said. “I know what Mister Frodo needs and as long as I can 
give him that, everything will be fine. And what he doesn’t need is me making anything 
more complicated for him than it already is.” He finished taking every tangle out of Bill’s 
mane. “Now, I’m going to clean your hooves. Just hold still and I’ll be done soon. I don’t 
know if you’ll be allowed to come with us, but maybe you will, and you’ll have to be 
ready.” He laid the brush aside and picked up the hoof pick. “Now just pick up your leg 
here, and I’ll get to work.”
      Bill grunted.
      Sam shook his head as he went back to work. “Don’t worry, Bill; nothing will 
happen to Mister Frodo. I promise. I’ll always take care of him.”
***
      Arwen sat beside her father as the sun sank, closing another day. Neither of them 
spoke; they gazed north, worrying in their own way about those that were out there.
      ‘It’s not his fault,’ Arwen thought. ‘Estel is only trying to protect me. He doesn’t 
understand that I’ll never give myself to him in truth. I need to tell him that I will not die 
in Gondor once he has passed away. When he knows that, he will be relieved because he 
will not have to marry his former slave. And I am sure it will be a relief for Legolas 
because he, too, will never have to give up his journey over the Sea.’
      She smiled to herself, but it was a worried smile. ‘If only Estel will return from 
this scouting mission, I can tell him the truth and then he will take me in his arms and we 
will agree to a glorious marriage that will not only ensure that his line will be bound 
closely to an honored elven line, but that he will be praised for centuries to come for the 
elven maiden he married.’ She pushed her hair off her shoulders and smiled. ‘Yes, as 
soon as he returns, we will speak and all will be understood.’
      Turning her eyes on her ada, Arwen said, “Do not fear for them, Ada. They will 
return soon and all will be well.”
      Elrond took her hand and smiled, but his eyes didn’t leave the North. “I cannot 
help but worry, Daughter. I sense that there has been a change in your brothers.”
      “Are they in danger?”
      “I do not think it is direct danger, but something has changed with Elrohir. His 
mind has changed and I sense that he will be led away from me.”
      “Has the Shadow touched him again?” Arwen shivered. She had ever hated to 
think of Sauron and the damage he had done to her family and to her home. ‘I prayed for 
Elladan, but I could never have approached him, spoken to him, while the Shadow 
enslaved him. To do so would have been to lose my sanity.’ A memory flashed behind 
her eyes. She saw Aragorn, tossing and raving on the bed in Lothlorien as he fought 
whatever darkness had taken him over. ‘Just like trying to help Aragorn. I had to flee. 
And I had to leave Elladan and Elrohir here because, strong as I am, I will not flaunt 
myself in front of the Enemy or offer him the opportunity to hurt me. Only a fool would 
put herself in harm’s way. The only way I’ll ever face Sauron is if every path has been 
closed to me. Until then, I must protect myself.’
      “No. Elrohir is safe from the Shadow, as is Elladan. And yet I feel…” Elrond 
smiled sadly. “I am sorry, Arwen. I don’t know exactly what I feel, only that the 
decisions Elrohir makes will carry him away from me forever. He will be happy in the 
new life he is choosing, but that does not mean I wish to lose him.”
      She nodded. “Will you lose Elladan also?”
      Elrond sighed. “I don’t think so, and yet, if I lose Elrohir, how can I not lose 
Elladan? They have depended on each other since birth, and if one chose to leave me, to 
remain here…” He nodded to himself. “That is it. Elrohir is going to stay here. I know 
not why, but it is true, at least at this moment.”
      “You can still convince him to change his mind,” Arwen said. “There is time. 
Remind him that to remain here would mean not only his death but Elladan’s as well. 
That will convince him to sail over the Sea if nothing will.”
      Elrond squeezed her fingers lightly. “You are wise, my daughter. Though I do not 
know if I should force Elrohir to go with me if he longs to stay here.”
      “You won’t be forcing him,” Arwen said. “All you are doing is reminding him of 
his responsibilities to his brother. Elrohir will understand. You will not lose him.” She 
smiled at him and after a moment he looked away from the North and smiled back. 
“Trust me, Ada; you will not lose any of us. As binding as Middle-Earth can be, none of 
us want to be away from you. We will not give up our immortality so easily.”
      “Yes, my Daughter, this I know well.” Elrond looked away again; he couldn’t 
seem to help himself. “I will remind Elrohir that if he stays, and Elladan stays, then 
Glorfindel will die. Because where we have the choice to stay or leave, other elves have 
no such choice.” He shook his head. “Well, they have a choice, but only if the Valar 
decide their love is strong enough to offer them that chance. And that, as we know, is 
rare. And surely the Valar, having granted Glorfindel a second chance at life, would not 
also offer him the chance to spend the rest of his years here in Middle Earth.” Standing, 
he glanced down at Arwen. “I must take a walk. I am filled with restless energy. Forgive 
me, Daughter, but only a walk will calm me, it seems.” His sad smile returned. “It is 
strange, but I was always saddened that I would lose my foster son to the Doom of Men, 
but I never thought to lose the fruit of my loins to this world as well.” And with a final 
pat of her hands, he turned and strode away.
      Arwen watched him until he was gone, and resolved, ‘I will convince Elrohir to 
go with us, no matter what he seems to think. And if he says he’s fallen in love with 
someone, some man, I’ll remind him that we are separate from men for a reason, that we 
are stronger than men and must not be bound to their fate. He is reasonable, and he loves 
Elladan. He will not be bound here.’
***
      Legolas heard him coming, of course, but he didn’t turn, allowing Aragorn to slip 
his arms around him from behind. The two of them stood on the edge of the Ranger 
camp, aware that they were being discreetly watched. The Dunedain were used to 
keeping an eye on what was within their borders, and they couldn’t leave off their habits, 
especially when Aragorn was with them again.
      “You announced that we’re staying another night or two,” Legolas said. “You 
haven’t said why yet, so is that what you’ve come to explain?”
      Aragorn chuckled. “Do you trust me, Legolas?”
      “Yes, Aragorn, but I don’t like being left out of things.” Legolas turned to face 
him. “If we’re going to be together, you can’t keep me in the dark. The only time I’ll 
obey your orders without question is when we’re in battle and there’s no time for debate. 
And even then I might choose my own way if it’s better.”
      “Legolas…” Aragorn kissed him gently.
      “Don’t think your kisses are going to confuse me anymore or keep me quiet!” 
Legolas pushed him away.
      Aragorn was laughing. “When did any move I ever made distract you?” Then he 
sobered and his eyes became unwavering grey beacons. “There was no time to tell you 
because I had only decided two minutes before I called the meeting that we were going to 
stay.” He lowered his voice. “Kehydi needs help to command the Dunedain while I’m 
gone. He doesn’t have the strength of will to do it alone.” He saw by Legolas’ eyes that 
his elf had already known this. Shaking his head, he said, “I must learn to ask you what 
you sense because you obviously know about Kehydi’s troubles. Maybe if I asked you I 
could have avoided a blow.”
      The man gestured briefly to the rising bruise on his cheek and Legolas blinked in 
surprise, reaching up to touch it with gentle fingers. “Did Kehydi hit you?”
      Aragorn nodded. “Aye, but I’m well, and he’s better for it. Don’t worry, Legolas; 
it doesn’t hurt. And there are more important things to talk about. I want to appoint two 
other Dunedain to help Kehydi. Who would you suggest? I’ve been so long away that 
you know them just as well as I do, and maybe better.”
      Legolas was quiet for a moment. “Annaleh will guide him. She has Malacai’s 
spirit, and more: she is practical and will always do what is best, not just for the 
Dunedain, but for Middle Earth. As to the other…” He sighed. “Saru can’t do it, as much 
as I want him to. He isn’t a leader. But he’s so intelligent, Aragorn… He knows what’s 
right; he just finds it impossible to stand up to Kehydi.”
      Aragorn took Legolas in his arms and rubbed his back. “You grieve for him.”
      “Yes.” Legolas closed his eyes and all his fierce independence fled for a moment. 
“I love him and I hate to see how much he suffers, even now. True, no one is hurting him, 
but he doesn’t have the strength to be really free. And that’s what he really wants.”
      “He had enough strength to tell Kehydi that the Dunedain were here to follow me 
and that they had to follow my orders, that Kehydi couldn’t give different orders from 
mine.”
      Legolas’ head snapped up. “He didn’t!” Lowering his voice, remembering that 
they weren’t alone, he asked, “Did he? Really?”
      “Yes.”
      Legolas’ elation left him. “It must have been very hard for him. Maybe that’s why 
I haven’t seen him this morning. As soon as we’re done here, I need to talk to him.” He 
met Aragorn’s gaze. “If he spoke like that to Kehydi, it’s partially my fault because I 
encouraged him before we slept. I didn’t think he’d actually talk to Kehydi. I didn’t mean 
to hurt him…”
      “Saru is old enough to make his own decisions, Legolas. Maybe you stirred up 
feelings he already had, but he already owned those feelings.” Aragorn smiled, but his 
eyes were still serious. “If you’re going to be my partner in every way, you need to learn 
what it means to lead. Most of the time, you can only encourage as your heart tells you 
to. What your people do is, in the end, their choice. You do everything you can for their 
safety and well-being, but you can’t make choices for them.” He grinned a little. “At 
least, not most of the time. You can choose to stay out of a battle or enter a battle, and 
most will follow you, but not all. And if you know all this already, tell me to shut up and 
I gladly will. It’s just that I never really thought I would be able to share my knowledge 
with the person I mean to marry.” He blushed ever so slightly. “It’s amazing to realize 
that I don’t have to separate my military mind from the loving, husband-mind I show 
you.”
      Legolas kissed Aragorn, lips firmly together so that the kiss of gratitude wouldn’t 
become one of distraction. “I love you, Aragorn.”
      “And I you.” He cleared his throat and the grin fell away. “I agree with you about 
Annaleh and about Saru, even if he spoke to Kehydi. It might cost him too much. But 
before we make that decision for him, I’d have you speak to him. And that leaves us with 
the difficulty of coming up with an alternative to Saru.”
      “Aidan,” Legolas said, “or he’s the one I would suggest if Kehydi wasn’t his 
father. But would Kehydi take offense to being told, in effect, that he’s being helped by 
his mother and his son?”
      “Maybe he could swallow his pride enough to accept them. Who else? I was 
thinking of Aaron, except that I don’t know how he’s changed.” He smiled. “Though 
Aidan has told me a little.”
      “I’ve always liked Aaron and his quick thinking, even if it’s towards battle most 
of the time, would be helpful now because we’re so close to war.”
      ‘And that is the shadow that hangs over us, and so it is mentioned by many.’ 
Aragorn nodded. “Aye, I agree. Rather than make things more complicated, I would say 
that we should make our decision between Aaron, Aidan and Saru.”
      “What about Halbarad?”
      “If he was here, I would talk with him, then decide. But he doesn’t even want to 
be called Dunadan until we meet again, let alone be placed in a position of authority.”
      Legolas nodded. “I understand. Then we have three to choose from.” He 
considered for a moment, then said, “We should also think about how the three would 
balance each other. Annaleh would work well with Kehydi, obviously, so she stays. How 
would she work with Aaron?”
      “They are a perfect match of calmness- Annaleh- and zealous determination- 
Aaron. I’m not sure how Aidan would react to his grandmother, if he would feel 
comfortable challenging her or Kehydi. I see where you’re going. We can now eliminate 
Aidan. Besides, I wouldn’t want to put him in that position when he’s so young. Now 
we’re down to two. What do you think about Saru?”
      “You’ve already heard what I thought. As to how he would react with Annaleh, I 
think he would be free-spoken enough. But I’m not sure what it would do to his 
relationship with Kehydi.” Legolas’ lip curled.
      “You don’t approve of their marriage?” Aragorn’s eyebrow climbed high enough 
to disappear into his hair.
      Legolas made a face. ‘So much as that, no. But I don’t trust Kehydi. I never have. 
I don’t trust him to do right by Saru. And yet, I know Saru loves him and that’s why I 
don’t disapprove of the marriage.” Sighing, he added, “But their relationship isn’t 
healthy, Aragorn, and don’t ever think it is. I’m amazed Cein and Aidan and the other 
two children emerged from it healthy and independent as they are. Kehydi’s treatment of 
Saru is better than that of a master tending his slave, but not much better, and I think he 
slips back into that familiar pattern occasionally. They both do. Saru isn’t… He’ll never 
think of himself as completely free, I don’t think, unless he was forced to make it on his 
own without Kehydi.”
      Aragorn rubbed at his face briefly, but he didn’t waste time in the gesture. “Then 
it has to be Aaron and Annaleh to help Kehydi. At least that’s solved.” He put his hand 
on Legolas’ shoulder. “But before I say anything to Kehydi and to Annaleh, will you still 
talk to Saru? I get the feeling he won’t let himself talk to me.”
      “He barely talks to me honestly,” Legolas answered, “but I’ll try.” He kissed 
Aragorn’s cheek, but when he pulled back, his eyes were grave. “So is that all we’re 
staying for?”
      “Almost. I want to talk to Cein a little and learn about the situation with the 
children from a woman’s lips. I’ll also be asking Nella, Annaleh and a few others. Men 
think of children differently than women, as a rule, and I need to know how all my people 
think. If the lack of children is in response to the fear of the future, I need to know. It 
would be a tragedy akin to the sinking of Numenor into the sea if, after so many years of 
holding our own, the Dunedain were to disappear because of fear of a future we cannot 
foresee.” He stepped back from Legolas. “We should be leaving in the morning, even if I 
haven’t gotten these questions answered because we still have much to find out before we 
can return to Rivendell.”
      Legolas offered him a half-serious bow, but his eyes and words left no doubt to 
the nature of the gesture. “Yes, Lord Strider. I hear and obey.”
      Aragorn swatted him on the backside as the elf sauntered away.
***
      “Papa?”
      Saru roused himself from the small pallet that had once been Cein’s, then 
Aidan’s, then Morwen’s and now which Mordecai slept upon when he wasn’t curled up 
on the ground. (A Ranger to the heart was Saru’s youngest son, preferring rough living to 
comfort.) Saru met the eyes of his second daughter and smiled at her. “Yes, Morwen?”
      “Are you all right?” She came and sat on the ground in front of him, her eyes 
large and concerned.
      ‘She has my eyes.’ Saru smiled at her, putting aside all that had happened before 
he at last fell asleep. “Yes, I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep and I knew Mordecai wouldn’t 
seek this place to sleep. It’s… more comfortable here right now.” He hadn’t been able to 
sleep in the marriage bed, no matter how he told himself that he was being foolish and 
childish. But Kehydi hadn’t come into the tent, nor had any of the others, so his sleep 
hadn’t been disturbed.
      Until now. “I love you, Morwen. Don’t look so worried about me.”
      “You’re pale.” She bit her lip. “Like you were when… when Aidan called for 
Aragorn.”
      Saru reached up and touched his cheek, wondering if it was true. ‘I cannot let 
myself get like that again. We have too much to worry about without my giving into the 
emotional exhaustion I feel.’ “I should eat, then, so I don’t lose my strength.” In truth, he 
wasn’t hungry; lately, he often awoke with an upset stomach. And yet, he forced himself 
to eat. “I’ll be all right. Don’t fear for me. I don’t feel weak, just tired.”
      She shook her head and Saru was suddenly, forcibly, reminded of Mordecai, 
Malacai’s brother. “You shouldn’t be tired. You’re never tired unless you’re sick. Do you 
remember when you caught the flu and were stuck in bed for two weeks? Then you were 
tired. You had a right to be. But you just woke up. You shouldn’t be tired.” She took his 
hand and rubbed at it. Then she climbed to her knees and touched his brow with the 
inside of her wrist. “You don’t have a fever. Do you feel hot?”
      “No.” Saru went very still. ‘I do not feel warm… but I am tired and I am having 
trouble eating and… And I dreamed of the flowers growing again.’ He sighed, but it 
wasn’t an entirely unhappy sound. ‘Every time I dream of daisies and lilacs and roses 
growing, I’m pregnant.’ He touched his belly and nodded to himself. ‘Yes. That’s what it 
is. And because I haven’t lain with Kehydi in nearly six months…’ Shaking his head, 
Saru wondered why it had taken him so long, both to sense his body’s change and to 
show. ‘And still I am not showing.’ He shook his head again. ‘Aii, but I’m less than three 
months away from delivery, if delivery there can be after so much ignorance!’
      “Papa?” Morwen’s eyes widened even more. “Papa, what is it? Tell me, please. 
You’re even whiter than before.”
      Saru stood and she rose before him. “I must eat, Morwen. I’m carrying another 
brother or sister for you.”
      She blinked, stared at him for a moment, then asked, “How long have you 
known?”
      “For about ten seconds or so.” He smiled at her surprised expression and decided 
not to tell her that he was quite far along. “Remember what I told you? As soon as you 
know, you have to act on it because you want to give the child as much as he or she may 
need of the right foods.”
      She nodded and blushed a little. “But Zehl and I have yet to marry. So I don’t 
have to worry about it yet.”
      Saru smiled at her. “True enough. Come; I may need your help.”
      “You get a little weak during pregnancy,” she said, taking his arm. “It’s natural, 
isn’t it?”
      “Yes, and nothing to be ashamed of.”
      “You were frustrated by it, though, when Mordecai was due. You said his was the 
hardest pregnancy you’d gone through.”
      Saru raised an eyebrow as they left the tent. “When did I say that?”
      She was blushing again. “You told Grandnana and I overheard.”
      Saru was laughing, his own worries gone for a moment. “My daughter has 
excellent eavesdropping skills, though I’m not sure it’s something I taught her.”
      “You taught us to move silently and to pick up every word.”
      Saru shook his head. “Do your brothers know?”
      “Aidan does, not Mordecai.”
      Shaking his head, still smiling, Saru said, “I’m glad you learned discretion as well 
as the art of observation from me.” The two of them approached the central fire where 
many in the camp were taking their lunch. Many parted when they saw how Morwen was 
holding Saru’s arm, and some of them cast worried looks after them.
      ‘I’ll have to tell them. I don’t want them to worry about me so soon after the 
trouble with Sauron.’ Saru turned to face the Dunedain, or as many as were on that side 
of the fire, and declared, “Don’t be worried about me. Morwen is helping me because I 
feel a bit weak. I’m pregnant, so I’m here to eat and then go about my business.”  He saw 
them relax, and then many smiled. Some of the smiles were troubled, and Saru knew 
why. He’d felt the tension within the camp. He glanced around, noting that nearly three 
quarters of the Dunedain were present, and that Aragorn and Kehydi were absent. 
Legolas was there, though, and it was his brother’s presence that gave Saru courage to 
speak.
      Raising his voice so that all knew he was still addressing them, he turned in a full 
circle, removing his arm from Morwen’s embrace. “My people, I need to ask you 
something. Please answer honestly because I’m afraid that any other answer will only 
lead us into Darkness.”
      They were completely silent before him and Saru was reminded of the time 
Malacai had spoken to the council concerning the love between his son and his slave. He 
cast the memory away.
      “Are you afraid to have children because of the Shadow’s growing strength?”
      A brief silence, then Nella spoke for them all. “Yes. The end is coming soon, for 
good or ill, and we all feel it. Should we run the risk of bringing babies into the world 
when we could all be killed at a moment’s notice?”
      Saru nodded. “I feel the same. I was shocked to learn that I am with child. Kehydi 
and I have even avoided an attempt. We are in danger, you all feel, and I agree. But it has 
ever been that way, just as it has ever been our duty to continue the lines of the 
Dunedain.”
      He saw the ghosts of those who had died- Malacai, Mordecai, Jamien- hovering 
over the assembled Dunedain. He didn’t see them with his physical eyes, but with those 
of his mind. Saru looked around again, seeming to meet everyone’s gaze. “And with so 
many gone, we have an even greater responsibility to carry on. Never have the Dunedain 
been so few. We number less than two hundred. Please, my friends, I know the end is 
near. But don’t bring about that end. If we triumph- and I have hope that we will- are we 
to come into our inheritance as a dying people?”
      Pacing about the fire, Saru touched the hands or shoulders of those he could 
reach, looking deeply into their eyes, entreating them. “Aragorn is fell and tall and proud 
and strong as few of his line have been since the days of Elendil. I cannot see his strength 
being overswept without much struggle. In truth, my family, I cannot see it at all.” He 
took in a breath as he watched their eyes light with surprise. “Some of you know that I 
am of Gondorian blood, Numenorean blood. Aragorn has pronounced it, and my ability 
to carry children argues for it. But what speaks for it also is my ability to have visions of 
the future. And I tell you now that I have seen Aragorn on the field of victory! And we 
are there with him, maybe not all of us, but many. We are with him, and it is a day of 
rejoicing mixed with sorrow. The vision speaks of a battle that was won, though some 
lives were lost. Please don’t give up! Yes, the end is coming! But it will be the Shadow’s 
end, not ours! Bring children into this world to share in that triumph! I beg you, do so for 
Aragorn, for your ancestors, and for the good that will overtake Mordor’s darkness!”
      No silence answered him this time. The Dunedain raised their hands and shouted. 
His eyes lit with fiery defiance. Saru, too, raised his arms and shouted back, “Rail against 
the Darkness, Dunedain, and the triumph in our hearts is assured!”
      The Dunedain shouted again, then all fell silent and Saru followed their gazes, 
turning to meet Aragorn’s eyes. For an instant, Saru was afraid, but then he saw the love 
in Aragorn’s eyes and he smiled.
      “I’m glad Saru spoke to you,” Aragorn said, looking at all his people. He was 
smiling, too. “He’s right. I’ve been trying to think of a way to ask you.” He turned to 
Saru and went to one knee before him. “Thank you, Dunadan. You have saved us all.”
      Around him, the others gathered there sank to their knees. Saru looked over them 
and blushed, wanting to prostrate himself before Aragorn. ‘What’s wrong with me? How 
did I get the courage to say all this?’
      ‘Because you vowed to follow Aragorn and this is what he needed done.’
      ‘Master Malacai!’ Saru began to cry.
      ‘I am not your master, Saru. I love you, my son, and I am so very proud of you.’ 
He wrapped himself around Saru’s mind. ‘You have also spoken because you know the 
young one inside you may not survive. You have brought so many children into this 
world, but the Dunedain need more than your children to survive. You are so brave, my 
Saru.’
      Aragorn rose, and so did everyone else.
      Saru blinked away his tears and allowed Aragorn to hold him. He whispered so 
that only his chief could hear him, “Malacai said he’s proud of me.”
      Aragorn hugged him tighter. “As he should be. As I am.” He released Saru. “Now 
that I’ve embarrassed you enough, I have something I want to ask you. But you should 
eat first.”
      Saru stared at him. “How long were you standing there? Did you hear me say I 
was pregnant?”
      “No, but Legolas sent it to me through our bond. That’s why I came.” He laughed 
softly. “In truth, I was about to take a bath in the chilly waters of the river to refresh 
myself. But this worked even better.” He kissed Saru on the forehead and then let him go. 
“Please eat, then speak with Legolas. I must speak with Annaleh and Kehydi.”
      Saru dropped his eyes. “Will he be angry with me?”
      “I very much doubt it.” Aragorn urged Saru to look at him. “And even if he is, 
Saru, your people are not. Your people have faith in you. They trust you. And so do I.” 
He left Saru then and disappeared among the dispersing Dunedain.
***
      That evening as the moon climbed to her zenith, Aragorn completed another 
meeting with his Dunedain. Kehydi stood at his right hand, Legolas at his left. The fire 
was burning low and casting all faces into shadow, but Aragorn didn’t call for more light. 
There had been too many unknown creatures wandering around that part of the forest and 
now Aragorn saw the folly of the night before when the Dunedain had rejoiced. It had 
been wonderful to recapture a little of the joy he’d felt once when he was much younger, 
but Aidan’s reminder of the coming war had served its purpose. There was no time for 
the small pleasures in life.
      “My people, all of you have your orders. All I ask is that you follow them as best 
you can. Legolas and I will be leaving in a few minutes. I would make you a promise 
before we part. We will see each other again. Death will not come between us.”
      The Dunedain rose as one, then every man, woman and child dropped to their 
knees. Kehydi spoke for all of them. “Go with our blessing, Hope of the West. Tread 
where you must, but keep our love in your heart always.”
      “I will.” As the Dunedain stood, gazing at him, some of them frightened, some 
determined, Aragorn turned to Kehydi and clasped his hand. “Be at peace, my second,” 
he said so all could hear. “We will meet again soon.” And then, very quietly so that only 
Kehydi could hear, “I am proud of you for taking this step. Let Saru and Annaleh help 
you. They’ll guide you.” 
      Kehydi met his gaze and his expression was fiercely controlled. “I will, Lord 
Aragorn. Don’t be away too long if you can help it.”
      “I’ll see you soon,” Aragorn repeated. Then he stepped back. Touching his hand 
to Kehydi’s shoulder, he smiled. Sensing Legolas at his side, he whispered, “We’re 
leaving now. Are you ready?”
      “Yes. Saru has my message.”
      As one, Aragorn and Legolas walked around the fire. They mounted Roheryn and 
Esteldil in a silence so complete not even a night bird sang. But as Aragorn and Legolas 
rode forward, their horses at a walk, the Dunedain parted and encouragement was 
whispered: “Safe travel. Victory in battle. Light in the Darkness. Triumph over the 
Shadow.” And among these words were spoken the names of their departing chief. 
“Aragorn. Strider. Dunadan. Elfstone. Estel. Hope of the West. Redeemer. King. Lord. 
Heir of Isildur.”
      When Aragorn and Legolas were beyond the boundaries of the camp, the fire was 
extinguished, hiding the Dunedain in darkness. The chanting had faded, as well, and 
Aragorn shivered slightly as a wave of homesickness washed over him.
      The horses drew closer together as if sensing their riders’ need for 
companionship. Legolas’ hand crept into Aragorn’s and they continued that way until 
they reached the road.
      At the road’s edge, Aragorn composed himself and set his mind on the future. “If 
we ride hard, we’ll be able to meet with Tom Bombadil at sunrise. He’ll have us sleep a 
bit, then we’ll hold a short counsel. We’ll arrive in Bree a little after sunset. I want to 
speak with Butterbur. We should be passing Imladris late in the afternoon of the second 
day. From there, a short exploration of Hollin and points a little south of that once-fair 
country. That will bring us up to the time we have to return to Mordor.” He glanced at 
Legolas. “And from there, I pray only that we will be together. But if we aren’t-”
      “I will always find a way to follow after you and be there for you,” Legolas 
answered. “Let’s not speak of it upon the open road.”
      Aragorn nodded, offered Legolas the ghost of a smile and urged Roheryn into a 
trot. In moments, the two of them were lost to the darkness.
***
      “It feels wrong here,” Legolas muttered in Elvish as he and Aragorn sat astride 
their horses just beyond Bree.
      “The Nine rode through here not long since,” Aragorn answered, “but there’s 
something else besides their memory here, I think. Do you see anything?”
      “Death. And in our road. But it may not come near us. It’s looking for someone 
special.”
      “Frodo?”
      Legolas shook his head. “A man. I don’t know who.”
      “A Ranger?” Aragorn pressed.
      Legolas frowned. “I know not,” he said at last. “But I can almost see that man’s 
blood staining the earth.”
      Aragorn debated. Should he warn his Dunedain? That would entail much loss of 
time. And right now, time and secrecy were their only advantages. ‘And it may not be 
one of my people.’ Yet he longed to warn the Rangers nevertheless. ‘Time is too short 
and I can’t give in to my concerns. Doubt has ever been one of Sauron’s greatest 
weapons. We can only go forward. To go back is to admit a species of defeat when every 
moment is needed.’ Turning to Legolas, he said, “We’ll spend as little time here as 
possible. But it would be well for us both to rest under a roof for a night in relative safety. 
And I would watch the men of this place and listen to them. Maybe we can hear the threat 
they represent.”
      “Then on to Hollin at dawn?”
      “Are you anxious to get there?” Aragorn asked. “Would you suggest we travel 
around Bree?”
      “No. We’re needed here. Something needs to be either learned or taught in the 
next few hours. But we can’t linger in the morning.”
      “So be it.” Aragorn clicked sidemouth to his stallion. The two Dunedain rode into 
the village, all senses alert for danger. The streets were bustling, as they should be at that 
time of day, with many going to the Prancing Pony. Legolas thought that Aragorn would 
get plenty of opportunities to both listen and watch.
      At the door to the stables, a hobbit awaited them and said, “Your horses will be 
safe here. The others have all returned. The rumors of treachery have left Bree.” He 
gestured for them to follow as he strode into the stables. Aragorn dismounted, took 
Roheryn by the reins (for the look of the thing, since Roheryn would have stayed near 
him no matter what) and disappeared into the stables.
      Legolas glanced around quickly before dismounting. Someone was watching him. 
Not Aragorn, but him. Who could know him and not know Aragorn? Memories of 
Wennel and the other men who had taken him to Malacai flitted through the elf’s mind 
but he discounted them. Those three were long dead. Besides, the watcher was a 
foreigner to Bree, though perhaps he had lived long in the North. Unable to learn any 
more than that at the moment, Legolas trailed after Aragorn, aware of the stranger’s ill 
intentions at every step.
      The hobbit was asking if he was allowed to rub down their mounts or if the 
travelers would do that themselves.
      Legolas caught Aragorn’s eyes, needing to talk to him before they entered the inn, 
and Aragorn nodded back. “Thank you for your offer, but we’ll see to them,” Aragorn 
told the hobbit. 
      Nodding, the hobbit said, “No one’s more comfortable with tall stallions than I, 
but you’ll feel more comfortable this way, I’m sure.” He sketched them a bow and left 
the stables.
      When they were alone and tending to their mounts, both with feed and with brush, 
Legolas, speaking quickly and quietly in Elvish, told Aragorn of the unknown watcher. 
He watched the man’s eyes narrow as he spoke, and wondered what Aragorn knew that 
he didn’t.
      “Is he the one who is going to soak the earth in blood?” Aragorn asked after a 
long silence.
      Legolas frowned, considering. The explanation made sense to him, but he wanted 
to make sure it was true, and not just the willing jump of his mind from one thing to 
another. “That may be so,” he said at last. “In that case, I suppose the person he could be 
after is me.” Then the elf shook his head. “No. I’m not the target. But someone I know 
is.” Sighing, he met Aragorn’s eyes, pleading with his own. “That’s all I know, Strider. 
Please don’t ask me to delve any more deeply into what I feel. It’s like being touched by 
something dark. Almost like the Nine, but more like their distant cousins than an echo.”
      Aragorn adjusted Roheryn’s blanket and stepped back. “I won’t ask you. But if 
the danger is so clear to you, we could find it and stop it.” He met Legolas’ gaze as the elf 
turned towards him. “Aii, but I see it in your eyes. We aren’t meant to do any such thing. 
I wish we could stay long enough to deal with it.” He slipped under Roheryn’s head and 
took Legolas in his arms. “We’ll stay only long enough to get a night’s rest and speak 
with Butterbur. Then we’ll be on our way. The trap that’s here will have to wait for its 
victim. Hopefully that victim will be prepared.”
      In a flash of insight like a lightning-bolt, Legolas said, “Saru will be ready. I’m 
not sure if he’s the victim, but he’ll be with the one who is marked.”
      ‘That could mean Kehydi, Annaleh, Aidan or many others.’ Aragorn cast the 
worries aside, knowing that he could do nothing by fretting. “Come, my love. Let’s get 
some sleep. The night is growing no younger.”
***
      Through Barliman and by listening to many of the cliental in the Prancing Pony, 
Aragorn and Legolas learned that Bill Ferny and the Southern man he’d been with had 
disappeared. It was rumored that the two had turned outlaw. But one glance was enough 
to reassure Aragorn that Ferny wasn’t the threat.
      The slave trade still flourished; Aragorn saw many slaves, both hobbits and men. 
One of the latter approached Legolas and Aragorn and offered himself for a night of 
pleasure. Legolas, looking as if he was going to be sick, simply turned away. Aragorn 
told the slave quietly that neither of them wanted a companion that night.
      When they were alone at their table again, Aragorn leaned towards Legolas and 
touched his arm. “Legolas…”
      The elf glared at him, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Promise me you’re going to 
get rid of all slavery in the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor,” he whispered fiercely. 
“Promise me.”
      “I do promise, Legolas.”
      Legolas took in a breath, then let it out slowly. “Thank you. But I won’t 
apologize.”
      “Nor should you,” Aragorn answered. “You have every right to ask the question 
and to be upset by what we see here.”
      The defensive expression on Legolas’ face eased somewhat. “Thank you,” he said 
more genuinely.
      But only as they left Bree behind the following morning was Legolas able to calm 
down fully. He hadn’t realized how the press of strange men had upset him. He was 
embarrassed by his reaction, and yet couldn’t just let it go. Suddenly, he understood, and 
his heart beat a little faster. ‘Few people do I trust that are not Rangers. I think perhaps I 
could have been content in Rohan, and I have learned to be at peace in Mirkwood, but 
neither of those places felt like home. I feel uncomfortable away from home. And even 
though Aragorn is my true definition of home, even he was on edge there.’ Shaking his 
head in wonder, the elf reflected, ‘No wonder I felt surrounded by unfriendly eyes. Most 
of the eyes were unfriendly. They don’t like the Rangers. And especially not Strider, who 
they see the most and understand the least.’
      Aragorn reached out and touched Legolas’ hand as the two of them rode south. 
“Legolas?”
      The elf blinked, collected himself, and smiled at Aragorn, fully aware that his 
expression wasn’t convincing. “Yes?”
      Aragorn seemed to see into him, and he smiled gently. “I love you.”
      Legolas blushed and the rest of his unease fled. “How is it that you always know 
just what to say, King of Men?”
      “Most of the time, I put my foot in my mouth,” Aragorn answered. “If you 
haven’t noticed, maybe I’m too talented at hiding my weaknesses.” He cupped Legolas’ 
cheek briefly. “That won’t do. You must be prepared for every fault I have.”
      Laughing, Legolas caught Aragorn’s hand and kissed his fingers. Then he 
scowled. “When did you last wash, greasy man?”
      Looking away, Aragorn muttered, “Morning.”
      “Not this morning,” said Legolas with merry scorn. “I’ve been with you since you 
awoke.”
      “I didn’t say this morning,” Aragorn answered. “But it was in the morning. I 
washed before the Council of Elrond.”
      Remembering how clean, pressed and utterly uncomfortable Aragorn had seemed 
during that long morning, Legolas snickered. “Well, then don’t expect me to give you 
any kisses like that last until we’re back in Imladris once more.”
***
      Saru closed his eyes and touched his stomach. Still he did not show. ‘And yet 
what can I expect? Aragorn and Legolas only left yesterday.’ He sensed Kehydi stir 
nearby- not quite close enough for touching- and opened his eyes at once. Instinct drove 
him, but also a desire to appear stronger than he was. Aragorn had placed him in a 
difficult position, and yet Saru knew it was for the best. ‘As conceited as that sounds, I 
know Kehydi well.’
      Annaleh leaned forward in her rocking chair. “We will have two tasks until 
Aragorn calls for us: protect the hobbits and Bree as much as possible, as we have always 
done, and yet ready ourselves for the day of our leaving.” She shook her head. “Men are 
impractical sometimes, and that’s nothing against the two of you. Aragorn wishes us to 
have babies. I agree; it’s needed. But he also wants us ready to leave. Pregnant women 
cannot travel as well as men.” She offered Saru a half smile, paying respect to his own 
pregnancy. “Wagons will have to be built. In the past, when we had to move, wagons 
were built for the injured or the children. More will have to be built this time.”
      “But we cannot move swiftly with wagons,” Saru told her.
      “That is why two groups of Dunedain will be formed,” Annaleh answered. “Some 
to stay with the wagons- and to make sure we are not observed as anything more than a 
poor group of people fleeing the poverty of the North- and a second group to ride to 
Aragorn as soon as he sends for us.”
      Kehydi frowned at his mother. He scarcely looked at Saru. “But Aragorn wants us 
to all be there.”
      “And yet he prizes babies above all else,” Annaleh answered. “Our lines must 
continue. Aragorn knows this, and respects it. Nothing will come of letting out blood dry 
up. We would reach Gondor, and perhaps be unable to raise seed up to the glory of 
Elendil.”
      “But if Gondor is destroyed, what will the children have come for?”
      “If Gondor is destroyed, the children will be our fighters against the Shadow,” 
Saru said, rousing himself fully from his troubling thoughts. “If many of the Dunedain 
men and women die, who will be there to bring children into the world?”
      “Who says the Shadow will give the children time to grow up?”
      “Who says the Shadow won’t be destroyed?” Annaleh asked. “None of us can see 
the future, so this is a waste of time. We can choose to follow Aragorn’s orders, or we 
can choose not to. There is no middle ground.” She met her son’s gaze. “And for me, 
there can be no choice.”
      Kehydi nodded, quelled. “I know. We will start building the wagons.” Without 
turning, he asked, “Will you oversee the gathering of wood and other necessary supplies, 
Saru?” His eyes flicked to the left, taking in Saru in a glance, but then they moved back 
to Annaleh.
      “Yes,” Saru answered. Then, feeling that he must speak, he asked Annaleh, “I 
need to know if the business portion if this meeting is over. I need to discuss my 
concerns.”
      “About the camp?” Kehydi asked, his brow creasing as he fought against the urge 
to ignore his husband.
      “About the child I carry,” Saru answered, his eyes pleading Kehydi to understand. 
“If it was a concern for the camp, then I would address it before we concluded our 
business talks.”
      “Speak, Saru,” said Annaleh.
      “I am six months’ or more along with this pregnancy, and yet I am not showing,” 
Saru began at once. “Moreover, I didn’t know I was pregnant until yesterday. I am not 
afraid of miscarriage, though I would grieve, but I am confused by everything that has 
happened to me. What’s wrong with me that I can’t tell when I’m with child?”
      “We’ve been busy,” Kehydi said. “And you were attacked by Sauron.” His eyes 
filled with horror and he leaned towards his mother. “Could Sauron have impregnated 
Saru? If he did, Saru would be less than a month along.” He shot another glance at Saru. 
“That’s when you usually notice, isn’t it? Within the first month, sometimes the first day 
but usually not until the third week or so?”
      Saru nodded. “That’s true.” He swallowed. “But what would Sauron gain by 
giving me a child, assuming he can even do such a thing? The personality of the father 
doesn’t determine what the child will be like. That is all up to me.”
      “But the child could still take on Sauron’s physical traits,” Kehydi answered. 
“Sauron was once human, true?”
      Annaleh held up her hands. “It doesn’t matter what a child looks like. And 
besides, this may not even be the Dark Lord’s babe. And even if it is, the child is Saru’s.” 
She smiled at Saru. “Have faith. All will work out for the best.”
      Saru rubbed his stomach. “Aye, I know.” He stood. “I’ll get started with the 
wagons.” He cast a quick glance at Kehydi, then left the tent.
      Mother and son sat in silence for a moment, then Annaleh asked, “Are you going 
to tell me what bee has flown up your ass, Kehydi son of Malacai, or are you going to 
allow that bee to reach your heart?”
      Her son groaned. “I can never do right by Saru. No matter how well we’re doing, 
I always manage to ruin it.” He laughed humorlessly. “I should have a three-person 
council to help me work through my marriage.”
      “Well, you can only have a two-party council, but it can be enough, if you’ll try to 
talk to Saru. He has learned much recently, and knows he cannot hide from his troubles. 
Perhaps, now that Saru is ready to act like a free man, the two of you can work through 
this.” She rose. “In any case, I have work of my own to do, as do you. Aaron and 
Halbarad will return in two days and we must be ready for whatever news they bring.”
      Kehydi sighed. “I’ll draw up a first draft of those who will go with the wagons 
and those who will go straight on to Gondor.” He closed his eyes. “But may I have a 
moment to myself?”
      She touched his shoulder, then bent and kissed his forehead. “You are trying, and 
that counts for much. I am proud of you for the things you have accomplished, my son. 
Don’t let yourself reflect on your grief too long.”
      Reaching up, Kehydi touched her hand. “I won’t, Mother. Thank you.”
      She went out and the second-in-command wondered bleakly if he would ever find 
a way to truly give honor to his father’s name. When he had sat for five minutes, 
struggling through his feelings for Saru and his confusion about the road ahead and his 
part in it, Kehydi sought out paper and pencil and began to make his lists. Nothing could 
be completely decided until it was known how many women would be pregnant and too 
big to ride on horseback, but at least he could speculate about how many warriors he 
might be able to spare to accompany the wagons, the women and near-adults 
notwithstanding.
***
      As the sun shot golden rays over the Silverlode, Elrohir closed his eyes and 
inhaled the failing perfumes of autumn. Night would come soon, and with it, the parties 
of men and elves would go their separate ways- the elves east to Rivendell, and the 
Rangers west.
      It was strange that Halbarad hadn’t come yet to seek him out, but Elrohir had 
never been in a relationship with an equal, let alone a Ranger, before, and so he wasn’t 
exactly sure how these things were supposed to go. Would the man even speak to him 
before they parted? Elrohir longed for that; which was why he’d chosen their favorite 
place (discovered only the day before) to wait for his lover.
      The leaves behind him stirred ever so slightly, and Elrohir turned, expecting 
Halbarad but ready for anything. Elladan stepped down to the bank.
      Elrohir frowned. “You never make noise. What is it?”
      “Halbarad will be here soon; he’s speaking with Aaron for only a moment. I 
wanted to talk to you before he comes.” Elladan put his arm around Elrohir’s shoulders. 
“You know, two elves can carry a message just as easily as three.”
      Elrohir blinked. “What are you talking about?”
      His twin laughed. “I often wonder, Elrohir, how much younger you are than me. 
Perhaps you were born a year after me and they’ve been hiding it from us all this time.”
      Elrohir scowled, but not deeply. “Elladan, since you’ve healed you’ve regained 
the riddling tongue I remember from our youth.”
      “Oh, come on, Elrohir! We’re still under two thousand years old!” Elladan shook 
his head. “Never mind. We can argue about whether we’re in our youth later. Right now, 
the important thing for you to understand is that Halbarad loves you, and you love him. 
Why deny yourselves the chance to be together? Why come back to Rivendell when your 
life lies with him?”
      “But… but…. But….” Elrohir shook his head. “Elladan, I’m an elf! I can’t just go 
live among a bunch of Rangers!”
      “We’ve done it before, so don’t hand me that. Tell me what’s really on your 
mind.” Elladan shot his brother a sideways glance. “And it better be the truth.”
      “I don’t want to leave you. I know Glorfindel will take care of you, and that 
you’re not only strong enough to take care of yourself, but we haven’t spotted any 
enemies, but… I don’t want to be away from you. The world is darkening and we might 
never see each other again.”
      “We would see each other in Valinor, if nothing else,” Elladan answered. “But, 
more importantly than that, I don’t see death ahead for us, Elrohir. We will meet again; 
I’m sure of it.” He took Elrohir’s shoulders in his hands and met his twin’s gaze. “Do 
what your heart tells you, Elrohir, but as for me, I rejoice to see you so completely in love 
and I wouldn’t want to be the cause of keeping you from the man you love.”
      Elrohir looked out over the Silverlode. “I love you, Elladan.” A single tear 
trickled down his cheek. “You have always been so good to me.” He hugged Elladan 
close. “I will stay with Halbarad. I never knew I could feel such joy as I feel with him.” 
He laughed, then blushed. “Aii, I sound like a giddy child.”
      “That’s what happens to almost all who fall in love,” Elladan answered. “Don’t 
see it as a curse, but as a gift. A brief return of your childhood, if you will.” He kissed 
Elrohir’s brow. “Come; we can meet Halbarad on the trail. The two of you will talk, then 
Glorfindel and I will head east and north.”
      “Is this why Aaron is speaking with Halbarad?”
      Elladan grinned. “The Ranger keeps his own counsel. Come on.”
      They brushed through the trees and entered the camp once more. Aaron and 
Glorfindel were working to pack everything, making sure they left no trace to hint at 
what they’d been about in the clearing. Halbarad stood by the fire, gazing into its depths. 
But when he saw Elrohir, he smiled shyly and approached.
      “I’ll go help the others,” Elladan murmured, abandoning his brother.
      The lovers moved so that they were screened from the clearing but so they were 
close enough to hear or be heard. At once, Halbarad took Elrohir in his arms and 
whispered, “You don’t have to do this. I am reluctant to take you from your family.”
      “You are my family, too,” Elrohir answered. “That is what my brother helped me 
realise.” He hugged Halbarad fiercely. “I love you.”
      Five minutes later, the two groups were ready to part company. Elrohir and 
Elladan embraced for a long moment, then Elrohir stepped back. “Safe journey, Brother.” 
He smiled at Glorfindel. “And to you too, Lord Glorfindel.”
      Glorfindel nodded slightly but didn’t speak. He knew this time for the twin sons 
of Elrond, who had never been more than an hour’s ride from one another unless outside 
forces- violent forces- made them be so.
      Elladan said, “I love you, Elrohir. Don’t take up smoking now.”
      Elrohir laughed and hugged Elladan once again before moving to stand by 
Halbarad. “And you don’t fall back into reading all those dusty tomes. Only then will I 
agree.”
      Elladan shook his head. As much as he longed to have one last teasing argument 
with his twin, time was running swiftly behind them. “May the Valar be with you.”
      “And with you.”
      Thirty seconds later, the clearing was deserted with nary a sign that anyone had 
been there at all.
Chapter Seventy-One
      They galloped away from the Gap of Rohan as quickly as their stallions could 
carry them. Orcs were gathering out of the mountains and from further south; Aragorn 
had found a bit of torn cloth that bore Sauron’s sigul, his sign. None of the enemy had 
spotted them, but they didn’t want to take the chance. Twenty hours later found them 
walking their horses far from the Gap of Rohan.
      “So we know the Gap of Rohan is being watched,” Legolas began. His were the 
first words they had spoken since dawn of the day before, even mind to mind. All of their 
attention had first been on looking for sign. And as they rode like the wind to escape the 
amassing army (for so Legolas thought of the gathering orcs) neither of them had the 
breath for talk.
      Aragorn rubbed Roheryn’s nose and gazed up at the sky. “Yes. And by orcs not 
just from the Misty Mountains. Now we need to answer this question, if we can: Who 
called them and why?”
      “Maybe they’re only drawn because Sauron is getting stronger. Maybe it’s a call 
in their blood they find hard to resist.”
      Aragorn nodded. “Very possible. Still, I wonder if it’s Saruman calling them. 
Gandalf has told us that Saruman is a betrayer. I trust Gandalf’s word; I always will.” 
Then he smiled wryly. “Though even Gandalf can be wrong.”
      Legolas raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Mithrandir has 
always been seen by the elves to be deeply wise.”
      “Oh, he is,” Aragorn answered, and now he laughed. “But even Gandalf makes 
mistakes.”
      Legolas grimaced. “Are you going to tell me what you’re talking about or am I 
just going to have to wait and ask Gandalf myself?”
      “Come on, Legolas; don’t think I didn’t hear the two of you the night I was 
attacked. I was supposedly asleep in my bed and the two of you were talking not far 
away. Gandalf said something about my lack of connection to people, my Rangers 
especially. True?” He nodded when he saw the contrite look on Legolas’ face. “Ah, so I 
didn’t dream that. Since neither of you spoke of it, I was starting to wonder. Didn’t he 
also speak of you and me?”
      Legolas nodded. “I would have told you, but…”
      “You were taught at a young age that it’s wrong to gossip, even if you’re just 
passing information to the person you think should be hearing it. The Rangers taught you 
that; don’t discount it.” He reached out and touched Legolas’ hand where Legolas was 
fiddling with Esteldil’s bridle. “I’m not angry with you, Legolas. How could I be mad at 
you for following what you believe in?”
      “Do you think Gandalf will oppose our love?” Legolas asked, biting his lip and 
drawing strength from the feeling of Aragorn’s hand on his.
      “No. Gandalf makes few mistakes, but when he makes mistakes, he is quick to 
realise they are mistakes. He won’t impede our love. He might issue warnings, including 
the standby about not dating someone who is at a higher rank than you, but-”
      Legolas swung in front of Aragorn. The horses stopped obligingly and fell to 
cropping grass. “Excuse me?” the angry elf demanded, seizing the front of Aragorn’s 
tunic. “I am a prince, Chief Strider. And even were you King Strider-” he smirked- “I 
would still be equal to you because I am the representative of my father in a foreign land. 
So don’t try to tell me you outrank me.”
      “I do, Legolas, but only on the field of battle. And we’ve already been over this. If 
you see a better way to fight, you can strike out in that direction and I may follow you if I 
agree. But, at those times, I outrank you.” His eyes were dancing. “I’m sorry if it offends 
you, Prince Legolas. If you wish, I will be your lowly page.” He slipped out of the saddle, 
smiling when Legolas followed him, went down on one knee, unsheathed his sword- the 
unremarkable one he carried along with Anduril- and laid it at Legolas’ feet. “You have 
my sword, Legolas, son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood, second only to Chief Strider 
of the Rangers.”
      Legolas kicked him in the shoulder and Aragorn rolled over obligingly as Legolas 
leapt on top of him. There followed a brief but furious wrestling match. Finally, after they 
were both covered in a month’s worth of dust, Legolas managed to pin Aragorn.
      “Now… what do you say?” panted the elf.
      “I… say… I stand… corrected. You are my equal always, Legolas.”
      The elf leaned closer to his trophy. “Except in battle, where I am more than 
willing to let you lead. I don’t want to lead men. I’ve never wanted to lead men, and I 
will never want to lead men.”
      “Then what was all this about?” Aragorn demanded, shaking with laughter.
      “Proof, my lord. Do you yield?”
      “Proof of what?”
      “Do you yield?”
      “Proof of what, you stubborn elf?”
      “Do you yield, filthy Ranger?”
      Aragorn made a frustrated noise. “Aye, I’d better or we’ll be stuck here until 
spring.” He tried to get up. Legolas was still holding him fast. “Now what?”
      “Say it.”
      Aragorn groaned. “I hinted at it. Isn’t that enough?”
      Legolas smirked. “Say it.”
      Aragorn blew his breath out, making a sound much like the snort of a horse. “I 
yield. Now will you let me up?”
      Legolas jumped to his feet and extended a hand. “Would my lord care to rise?”
      Aragorn scowled. “Would my lord care to tell me what he needs proof of?” He 
grasped Legolas’ hand and accepted the help he didn’t need. The two of them resumed 
walking, their stallions following at once.
      “Oh, it was nothing.” Legolas pretended to flinch when Aragorn glared at him. “I 
only wanted to make sure your pride could stand a blow if I take off on my own 
initiative.”
      “By the stones, you sound like Malacai!” Laughing, Aragorn swung into 
Roheryn’s saddle and urged his stallion into an easy trot.
      Legolas was at his side in a moment. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
      Near sunset of the following day, when he was sure Aragorn had quite forgotten 
what they had been talking about, Legolas asked, “Why exactly do I remind you of 
Malacai?”
      He should have known Aragorn’s memory better, he realized. The man glanced at 
him across the small fire and chuckled. “Malacai and I wrestled often. Sometimes, I won. 
But at first, he always had me pinned. And whenever he won, he would always say ‘Just 
to make sure you don’t get too proud.’ That’s why you remind me of him.”
      “I’m glad I’ve taken over his job of keeping you humble. It’s a difficult task, 
requiring constant vigilance, but I’m still honored to know that I’m not the first to hold 
it.”
***
      Merry and Pippin were well into their cups when Frodo and Sam joined them in 
the comfortable, hobbit-sized sitting room. Outside, autumn winds raged, signaling the 
imminent approach of winter. But none of the hobbits were concerning themselves with 
that just yet. Frodo and Sam had been spending a great deal of time with either Gandalf 
or Bilbo, and though Merry and Pippin had, for the most part, pursued different pastimes, 
they had kept no less busy. Pippin had taken to spending long hours napping in the 
autumn sun whenever the winds didn’t blow harshly.
      Merry, on the other hand, had discovered the Hall of the Sword and spent time 
there, reading the lore of the elves. He’d poured over the tale of Elendil and Gil-galad 
with great interest, especially when he discovered that the two were lovers. The young 
Brandybuck considered himself a lucky hobbit, being predisposed to seek out lads and 
lasses in equal measure. So when he stumbled upon the tale of Elendil’s and Gil-galad’s 
love, he had absorbed it eagerly. At night, he dreamed about what he’d read. In his 
dreams, Elendil looked a lot like Strider and Gil-galad looked much like the blond-haired 
elf who had accompanied Strider on his scouting mission a fortnight ago.
      Aside from the sexual side of the story, Merry had also enjoyed thoroughly the 
descriptions of the battles the man and elf had fought. All but the last, where Elendil died 
and Gil-galad followed. Or perhaps it was Gil-galad who had fallen first. Merry couldn’t 
remember. As many times as he had reread the stories of the other battles, he avoided the 
one that had been fought in Mordor. He preferred to think of Gil-gala and Elendil as still 
alive. It was so much better to dream of a living, breathing man and his lover-elf than to 
dream of their deaths.
      All his studying of the stories had sharpened Merry’s eye. He hadn’t spoken of 
what he’d seen to anyone, but when Frodo and Sam entered the sitting room, the young 
Brandybuck watched them keenly, some of his drunkenness forgotten.
      Yes, as always Sam tended to Frodo before he ever sat down. Well, and that was 
as it should be, since Frodo was the Master, in all but law. Sam was but his gardener, but 
he treated Frodo like he was the older hobbit’s serf. Sam had many freedoms, but he 
didn’t take advantage of most of them, preferring to spend his “off hours” still at Frodo’s 
side, tending to the other hobbit’s every need. And Frodo either didn’t mind or had given 
up trying to argue with Sam. So, in a way, Sam was using his freedoms; he was just using 
them to look after Frodo instead of using them for the normal things like drinking, 
smoking, sleeping and eating that would have occupied the time of most other servants.
      ‘He’s completely devoted to Frodo,’ Merry thought. ‘And that in itself is no 
indication that Sam’s in love, or that Frodo loves him back. I mean, they haven’t slept 
together or even kissed.’ But Merry couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam and Frodo 
belonged together. He knew it might be all the reading he’d done about Elendil and Gil-
galad, but he couldn’t shake the notion. Nor did he particularly want to. It was delightful 
to spend idle hours contemplating who would make the first move and what that move 
might be.
      ‘Besides, there are signs that no one can deny. Frodo looks at Sam with 
unmistakable affection, for one thing. Sam worships Frodo, but then, he’s always done 
that. Frodo watches over Sam and makes sure that Sam is always happy, which is 
something not all masters do for their servants, let alone their gardeners.’ Merry smirked 
as Sam brought Frodo a small glass of wine before contenting himself to sit at Frodo’s 
feet. ‘So maybe they’re not together yet, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t encourage them 
to realise how much they depend on each other. I’m an old hat at getting hobbits to 
realise their natural attraction. I’m the one who encouraged Pip to look at Diamond, after 
all. Maybe he’ll even marry her when we get back from this business. I’d rejoice to see 
that.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘And if I have my way, it might even be a double wedding. 
Everybody knows no one deserves more joy than Frodo and Sam. Frodo’ll be exhausted 
by the time we get back from this mission, and Sam’ll be completely done in since he’s 
been looking after Frodo. What’ll cheer em both, I’m betting, is a short, sweet wedding 
ceremony and a long night in their marriage bed.’ He laughed and even clapped his hands 
a little, not caring how he looked. ‘I’ll have to be careful and make sure they don’t notice 
what I’m planning, but that’ll be no problem. I’m a master at eavesdropping and dropping 
subtle hints as well.’ 
      “Are you quite all right, my dear cousin?” Pippin asked, leaning against Merry. 
“You look as though you’ve got some deviltry brewing up in that beer-fogged mind of 
yours!” He clapped Merry on the back. “Do tell! Do tell us! We’d be more than glad to 
help you perpetrate some heinous but harmless little prank.”
      Frodo smiled at his friends. “I’ll not stand in your way,” he said, “but just heed 
this warning: Lord Elrond might kick you out if you cause too much more ruckus. He’ll 
throw you right out on your pointed ears and then where would you be? Thank you,” he 
added as Sam put a plate of treats on the table beside him. “Please join me,” Frodo 
murmured, drawing Sam onto the seat beside him. “I hate eating alone.” He broke a 
scone in half and gave the bigger half to Sam. “Here. They’re blueberry. Before he left, 
Lord Glorfindel told me they’re the best scone