Gondor’s flags were lowered to half-mast. Aragorn could see this from his bedroom window, but he could not care much about it. Later, he would have to check who it was amongst the servants at the palace who initiated this and say how much he appreciated this, but right now he could not care.

Arwen lay before him in his mind. Already she was buried, as quickly as possible as was the Elvish tradition in these rare cases, and already lost to him. Despite the two years they had spent together as husband and wife, her exact features were already beginning to blur. During the first two days, all he could do was play and play again in his mind all of their memories together, her usual movements, the way she laughed...only each time he replayed her, she seemed to be fading further from his mind, changing a little each time, and he had the strange feeling that there was something he was doing wrong.

A trumpet sounded down in the guests’ hall, and Aragorn paid little attention. Soon enough came the expected knocking at the door, and when there was no answer, a servant - Riddel - stepped in.

“Your highness, a guest has come to see you. King Legolas of Mirkwood.” Riddel’s voice was hesitant. Once he stepped in the room, King Elessar’s contemplative figure unnerved him. He was not sure, though he was before he decided to enter without permission, that the news would be welcomed. Still, King Legolas was an old friend to the King of Gondor and the servant thought this Elf could do for his king what none of the other eulogizers could.

“Legolas?” The surprise in Aragorn’s voice was evident. He had not expected any of his old fellowship friends to come. More so, he decided not to tell those who would. Frodo and Gandalf had already set sail for the Undying Lands, and there was no reason to bother the hobbits in their peaceful lives in the Shire or to call on Gimli from the rebuilding of the Moria Mines. They would all be too far, too late for the sudden funeral, and their words of solace would be... unhelpful at best. That was the reason why - despite his kingdom being only a day and a half away by riding - Aragorn had not sent word for Legolas either. He could not bear the thought of empty words spoken with full emotions that couldn’t find their target. Most of all, he did not want to have to explain, if he lost patience and rejected his friends’ comfort, why those words could not console him. The thing that lay heavy on his heart could not be shared.

Yet Legolas was here, and now that he was, Aragorn's heart was lightened, just a little, for that. He stood up and, with hasty steps, rushed to the guests’ hall, down a flight of stairs, while Riddel stood still in the bedroom. Two years had passed since he switched from serving the Steward Denethor to serving King Elessar, and he was still not used to the way in which the King failed to follow the traditional ways of rulers, such as the custom of the servant always leaving the room before the king.

“Legolas!” Aragorn’s warm voice resounded in the vast hall, as he hurried towards his friend. “Aragorn!” was Legolas’ thrilled answer. They embraced each other, then, smiling, looked into each other’s eyes, searching for the signs of the time that had passed since they last met, at Aragorn’s coronation.

You look good, Aragorn wished to say, but then he remembered, and stopped. “It is a sad hour that we’ve come upon, my friend,” he said, and Legolas nodded quietly, his expression changing from glad to worried. “This is why I had to come, though I guessed your silence was intended.” No tone of apology sounded in his voice, only concern and the recognition of his right to be there, as a true friend.

“True, I’ve not sent word. How did you hear of it?” asked Aragorn, only now voicing the question that was forming in his mind. He did not care that Legolas came uninvited, though he felt the weight of the burden that he did not wish to speak of, not even with his friend. Now it seemed that this weight upon him was smaller than the joy he felt at the sight of the Elf’s kind face.

“Now, Aragorn, our lands are not so far apart that a rumor will not travel the distance in less than a week.” Legolas’ face was lit by a shadow of a smile. Some things about Aragorn were hopeless, and yet beautiful, like his strong conviction in the power of his will when he did not wish to hurt his friends. He had not changed since coming to power, and Legolas was glad of that.

Aragorn smiled back, but not widely. The welcome in his eyes, Legolas noticed, was tainted with grief, and also by a deeper sorrow. From the moment the man spoke of the ill hour, the like of a shadow had come to hover over him, and his quick paces towards Legolas, his swift embrace, were replaced by a slower motion and a lack of attentiveness. After a few seconds of silence, Legolas spoke again.

“I hear the baby has survived,” he said, and wondered at the lack of response from Aragorn. “Yes,” the man said, nodding heavily and thinking of something that was probably quite different, “yes, he did.”

“Aragorn.” Legolas had decided that his friend had more need of him than he had expected, and his words were but a small part of the help he could offer. Still, this part must wait a little while longer, while he offered others. “You are weary. Have you had any sleep since Arwen passed away?” It was the third day since the troubling birth, yet Legolas was not surprised when Aragorn nodded, almost automatically, that he hadn’t.

“This will not do. Aragorn, go now to sleep, I will take care of everything.” He slowly accompanied the man up the stairs and to the royal bedroom, stirring him gently with a slight pressure from his wide palm, spread upon the man’s back. When they reached the door he added, “Good. Now, go lie down and when I see you again, my friend, I want to see you rested.” Aragorn nodded his consent in that same mechanical manner. Then, he seemed to have noticed something. Sharply, he turned his eyes up to Legolas’. “You will not leave before we’ve had a chance to talk, will you?” he asked, though all along the way, all he had pondered about was how he could avoid surrendering to the pressure he felt to speak. He realized that very moment that he had to. If Legolas did not hear it before he left, no one would, and he would continue to dwell – endlessly – in the shadow of this silent torture.

“Never,” Legolas assured him with a wide smile. As soon as Aragorn had entered the bedroom, Legolas went in search of a servant. He came upon Riddel and Shayna, a new maidservant in the castle. The Elf quickly turned to Riddel, with whom he was acquainted, and inquired about the state of all matters that needed tending. After he made sure the King’s slumber would not be disturbed, he asked Shayna to show him the way to the baby's bedroom.

To be continued...