By the time the queen's banner was seen on the western horizon, autumn had begun to creep one more into the forests of the world. The journey back from Annúminas - delayed by stops in both the Shire and Edoras - took nearly two months, and thus it seemed that the trees turned red and gold even as Arwen and her party passed beneath them. Bright and clear were the voices of trumpets as they took up the call from the Tower of Ecthelion, heralding the return of the White City's most beloved star.

And so it was that Aragorn and Eldarion were able to greet their loved ones as soon as they passed through the Great Gate into the Court of Tarondor. They were, as always, joined by a large crowd of citizens, all of whom eagerly filled the square for a chance to see the heirs of Elendil in the flesh.

No sooner was Arwen down off her horse than Aragorn came to her. Taking both of her hands in his, Aragorn's face was full of love and joy when he greeted his wife.

"Arwen...too long has the White City felt empty without you. Welcome home, meleth-nin."

"As did the road seem far too quiet and lonesome without you to lead us, meleth e-guilen," said Arwen, her grey eyes shining.

They were surrounded by many though, and so Aragorn and Arwen held their most precious words of reunion back until a later time. Instead, Aragorn bowed and pressed a kiss to Arwen's knuckles before raising her hand high. The folk of Minas Tirith cheered aloud; all loved Arwen, and it was not just the royal household that had keenly felt her absence.

Meanwhile, Eldarion was offering up a hand to help Eruthiawen and Almárëa down from their saddles while Faramir, Legolas, and Elboron dismounted. Almárëa all but dropped straight into Eldarion's arms in her haste to embrace him.

"Eldarion! We missed you so!" she exclaimed. "And there's so much to tell you!"

"And plenty of time in which to tell it all," said Eldarion as he set Almárëa's feet down upon the ground. "Adar and I have ensured that we will have the evening all to ourselves. Tonight we dine as a family, properly and with no interruptions!"

"I hope you don't count the House of Stewards as interruptions," Faramir likewise enjoyed an enthusiastic greeting from the people as he dismounted. He looked somewhat tired, Eldarion thought, but still rosy-cheeked and windswept from the road. "Your mother has invited Elboron and I to stay the night before we make our way home to Ithilien. And Legolas as well."

It was at that moment that Elboron appeared from behind his horse. He like Faramir wore dark colours of mourning, no doubt in tribute to Éomer. Eldarion saw it immediately though; there was something ever-so-slightly different in the way Elboron carried himself. When before he had always been patiently unobtrusive, content to hang back until others called upon him, now it seemed to Eldarion that there was a new confidence to his oldest friend. Then Elboron turned, and Eldarion saw that Eruthiawen stood beside him, one hand tucked in the crook of Elboron's elbow as if it had always been there. Eruthiawen smiled, and Eldarion realized that his sister too was changed. No longer prim and postured, Eruthiawen's already famed beauty seemed even greater for the gentle ease that softened her smile and lightened her steps.

Before either could even speak, Eldarion rushed forward and wrapped an arm around them both in an embrace. Elboron and Eruthiawen enfolded their arms around Eldarion in return, and together the three stood for a moment before breaking apart.

"Eruthiawen...Elboron, I am so very happy for you. Truly. You cannot imagine how long and how dearly we have hoped for this."

"So I have heard," said Eruthiawen dryly. Her eyes sparkled with contentment though.

"Almárëa was quite happy to tell us all about your wager with Elfwine" Elboron added. He raised an eyebrow at Eldarion. "Only five castars? You wound me with your lack of faith!"

"If we are all being entirely honest though, I think the one most entitled to the victor's purse here is Almárëa." Faramir winked at Eldarion. "Besides, if your parents hear you've been gambling outside the Harvest Tournament, that can only go ill for all involved."

Rather than protest, the young people all shared a laugh and agreed that Almárëa was indeed the worthy recipient of Elfwine's coins. It was then that Almárëa reappeared in their midst, having left their parents greeting Legolas and speaking to people from the crowd. To Eldarion's surprise, his youngest sister had a stranger in tow.

"Eruthia, for shame!" Almárëa cried. "You're neglecting your lady-in-waiting again!"

Eruthiawen gasped. "Oh! Indeed I am, my apologies. Eldarion, this is Galieth, daughter of Lord Suiledir and Lady Gwynnis of Annúminas. Her parents wish for her to spend a year or two here in Minas Tirith, to see the White City and learn of its high society. Galieth, this is our brother, Prince Eldarion, Captain of Gondor."

"I suggested that we speed Galieth's introduction to the nobility by appointing her as Eruthia's lady-in-waiting!" added Almárëa.

Galieth stood blinking at Eldarion for a moment, mouth slightly agape. She was very near the same height and build as him, and the strange notion occurred to Eldarion that he was meeting a female reflection of himself. Then Galieth flushed bright red and bent into an awkward bow.

"Your Majesty, you...I mean, I...I am honoured to meet you at last. Your sisters have told me much about your family on our journey from Annúminas."

Almárëa giggled - not quietly enough! - and Galieth immediately realized her error in having bowed in the manner of a man to the prince of Gondor. Almárëa's mirth increased two-fold though when Eldarion, without missing a beat, tucked one foot behind the other and performed his best imitation of a lady's curtsy. Even Eruthiawen couldn't hold back a tiny twitter of laughter at her brother's antics.

"Well met, Lady Galieth of Annúminas," he said with a smile. "You are most welcome here, for as long as you may choose to stay. Come, let us introduce you to our father. No doubt he will want to know all about the comings and goings of the north."

If Galieth had been off-balance for her first meeting with Eldarion, being introduced to King Elessar himself nearly did the poor young woman in. Thankfully, Aragorn was as warm and tactful as only he could be, and by the time they had all made their way through the city and up to the citadel, Galieth was almost able to string together full sentences again.

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Later that evening after a long and hearty dinner, they all came together to gather in the comfort and privacy of the royal parlour. Even though autumn was yet to fully begin, a small fire burned cheerily on the hearth beneath a mantelpiece laden with family trinkets and treasures. Aragorn's pipe was among them, and this he took down to enjoy a rare indulgence of Longbottom Leaf - a gift courtesy of Merry and Pippin - which Arwen had brought back with her in her saddlebag. Together Aragorn and Arwen sat on the sofa, watching the others around the room in companionable silence.

Legolas stood to one side by the balcony door, alternately gazing out at the stars and listening to the conversation between Faramir and Eldarion. The elf was still quiet, even so many weeks after departing Annúminas. His smile when Faramir made reference to some part of their northern trek was without shadow though. Elboron and Eruthiawen sat on another sofa nearby, Eruthiawen with her head resting on Elboron's shoulder and their fingers entwined together in her lap. Almárëa meanwhile was showing Galieth how to play an elvish version of Cat's Cradle with a ball of red yarn. The two sat crossed-legged on the hearth rug, Galieth occasionally chancing glances around the room, as if in disbelief at the lofty company which she kept that night.

"Less a lady-in-waiting to Eruthiawen, and more a pet to Almárëa, I fear," whispered Arwen to Aragorn. "I do hope the poor girl does not find us so intimidating forever."

Aragorn chuckled softly. "I think not, meleth-nin. Give her a moment to catch her breath, and I am sure she will settle readily enough."

"Mmmm..." Arwen hummed. Her gaze then fell across Elboron and Eruthiawen where they sat cozily together beside the fire. It warmed the mother's heart in Arwen's breast to see her eldest daughter so obviously happy.

"Eruthiawen tells me that she and Elboron would like to be married in Ithilien, come the springtime," said Arwen.

Tucked in close at Aragorn's side as she was, Arwen felt more than heard the sigh which rose in Aragorn's chest. "So soon? I was thinking perhaps in a year...or two...or ten."

Arwen laughed. "Our precious ones could not remain small forever, Aragorn. They are only following in the customs of my people, after all, or have you forgotten?" When Aragorn cocked his head questioningly at her, Arwen elaborated. "In days of peace, long before the rise of Sauron, elves chose their spouses early in life, and wed while still in the fullest bloom of youth. War delays such things though, and thus the end of the Third Age saw many elves of maturity remain unwed. Now Middle-Earth again knows peace, and thus I am unsurprised that our children are following their hearts, young though they are."

"Not all of them..." Aragorn remarked, casting a glance to Eldarion, who at twenty-seven years of age had never even so much as looked twice at any lady. Eldarion felt his father's eyes upon him, and sent his parents a contented smile before joining Faramir in urging Eruthiawen and Almárëa to song.

"All things have their time," Arwen replied. "You were only a youth of twenty years when we met, and it was not until sixty-eight years later that we were wed. An exceptionally long betrothal even by the standards of my people, wouldn't you say?"

The teasing note in his wife's voice provoked another chuckle from Aragorn. "I like to flatter myself with the belief that I am an uncommonly patient man. Besides..." he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Arwen's cheek. "...you are worth waiting a thousand years for."

They fell silent for a time then, content to enjoy one another's company and the sweet music of Eruthiawen and Almárëa singing together. The two princesses sang in Adûnaic, the language of the Dúnedain, and Galieth could also be seen quietly mouthing the words to herself. Elboron's face as he watched Eruthiawen sing could only be described as pure adoration. The music drew Legolas over from his post by the balcony, and the elf soon found himself the next victim of everyone's goading for a song.

As the others bombarded Legolas with requests for one particular song or another, Arwen shifted on the couch and cast her gaze toward the east-facing window.

"It sore grieves me to have missed Túrien when she was here. Is all well with her in Harad?"

"As she was saddened to have left before your return from the north," said Aragorn. "You did well though, when you suggested to the Great Council that Túrien accompany Eldarion and I on that first visit to Harmindon. Every year our wild child grows surer and stronger within herself. Ah, I wish you could have seen her at the council, Arwen! Her presence commands a room now with the same utter authority as I have ever seen from any ramyah."

"Is the council still being difficult though, when it comes to matters of our growing friendship with Harad?"

"Sadly, yes. I had meant to tell you more about that on the morn, but seeing as we have broached the subject..."

Arwen nodded. "Tell me."

Aragorn did not speak immediately. Rather, he gathered his thoughts while Legolas succumbed to the collective peer-pressure of the room and began a lengthy ballad about the meeting of Queen Melian and King Thingol of Doriath.

"There are no clear incidents to speak of, and yet I find myself growing uneasy as of late. I know that Eldarion feels it too. We never did find the ones responsible for the Eye on Gandalf's statue. Between that, Rohan's loss of Éomer, and other, smaller things..." 

Aragorn's words trailed off, leaving Arwen unsatisfied. Sitting up on the sofa, she shifted so as to better read the disquieted expression on her husband's face. Aragorn seemed anxious, as if wishing to get up and go somewhere, do something, and yet having no clear notion of where or what. Riddles had never been Aragorn's favourite game.

"Smaller things such as?" 

"Matters pertaining to the overall mood of the people, I suppose. Little incidents such as the theft of a Haradrim bead-maker's cart wheels...dismissive, irreverent attitudes amongst the army's newest recruits...peevish bickering from the lords of the Great Council. Sauron's final defeat was a little over thirty years ago, not so very long by the estimations of our people. Still, I confess I am disappointed that many seem to forgotten how hard-won our days of peace and plenty are." 

"It seems to me that the people of Gondor are in danger of falling prey to complacence," said Arwen. "Perhaps what they need is both a reminder of the evil we overcame together...and a new project."

The notion intrigued Aragorn. "Oh? What do you have in mind?" 

"Minas Ithil."

It was but a name, but it had the power to take Aragorn completely aback all the same. Few now living in Gondor now knew the once-Tower of the Moon by its proper name. Most knew it by the name under which it had fallen during Sauron's rise; Minas Morgul. Immediately after the War of the Ring, Aragorn had ordered the Morgul Vale cleansed, the corrupted tower and everything within it destroyed. The memory of the sickly, pale light of that place, the chilling poisonous vapours breathed by corpse-like white flowers carpeting the vale's floor, brought a grimace to Aragorn's face even now. No one had set foot in the ruins of Minas Morgul for nearly twenty years. 

"The Vale of Sorcery? What of it?"

"It is time, meleth-nin, time to restore the Tower of the Moon to its rightful state. Even if shadow may never be utterly gone from the world, it has long since lost its hold over the vale. Set our people to rebuild Minas Ithil, that in doing so they may remember the price of allowing evil to fester, and take pride in making the vale a place of beauty once more." 

Aragorn sat long in silence, lost in thought. He was not an overly superstitious man, and had walked the cursed paths of the Dwimorberg without fear. Minas Morgul had beyond shade of doubt been a haunted place in Sauron's time, filled with sorcery and decay. Aragorn trusted Arwen's judgment though, and if she felt that Minas Ithil was ready to once again take its place as the moonlit jewel of Gondor, then it would be so. 

"You are wise, Arwen, and know as much if not more of Men's hearts than I. Very well then, I will submit the motion to the council on the morn. If Minas Ithil is to be restored though, then there must be a Lord...or Lady of the Vale once again as well. To them shall fall the duty of overseeing the rebuilding and keeping watch over North Ithilien in days to come." 

"Are there no living heirs of the former Lords of the Vale to call upon?" asked Arwen.

"None that survived the War of the Ring," said Aragorn regretfully. "I would offer the title to Faramir and Éowyn, but I greatly doubt they would accept it, happily settled as they are in South Ithilien." 

Arwen's gaze fell once again upon Elboron and Eruthiawen where they sat entwined once again, eyes glazed in blissful contentment as they listened to Legolas sing. A smile curved Arwen's lips, and she knew she had found the answer. 

"Perhaps you ought to delay in announcing the plan to restore Minas Ithil, Aragorn, at least until the spring. Then we could make a wedding present of the titles of 'Lord and Lady of the Vale'."

Aragorn, whose gaze had followed Arwen's, smiled in perfect understanding. 

"Lord and Lady of the Vale of the Moon," he echoed wistfully. "It suits them." 

And so the houses of Telcontar and the Stewards all spent a peaceful evening; gathered together around the fire, listening to songs and tales and basking in one another's company. On the morn, Elboron and Faramir would return to Ithilien to reunite with Éowyn, as would Legolas to rejoin his colony. Eldarion had morning training sessions with the Citadel Guard to supervise. Eruthiawen and Almárëa would have their hands full teaching Galieth the ins and outs of life in the citadel of Minas Tirith, as well as beginning preparations for a royal wedding come the spring. And as always, the duties of statecraft awaited Aragorn and Arwen, made perhaps more enjoyable and less tiresome for being by one another's side again at long last. Little did any of them imagine that the year to follow would bring with it some of their greatest joys...along with their darkest fears. 

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