Guilty

Rated: T (for some blood and violence)

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters or places.

Summary: When Legolas is accused of a serious crime, King Elessar would do anything to prove his friend's innocence. But as more clues are revealed, he might wish he had never learned the truth.

Note: Written for Teitho Challenge: Whodunit. The challenge was to write a detective story. I have to warn you that the story will lead to some unexpected discoveries :-) Teitho Third Place Winner :-)

Note 2: The story is complete, but I'll post it in three chapters because it's too long to be read all at once. Updates will come quickly, as long as I've given enough people the chance to read. Feedback is very welcome, as usual.

-

Chapter 1: The Dangerous Villain

-

The guards stepped away fearfully, making way for the King. Their liege strode forward determinedly and showed no sign that he had noticed them. A frown of frustration marred the regal brow, and the stormy grey eyes were filled with disbelief and desperation.

King Elessar passed by the guards and headed deeper into the dungeons. Finally he stopped by a thick oak door, guarded by three heavily armed men, who looked unnaturally nervous.

Aragorn had to suppress a sigh. Three men set to guard a single prisoner! Ah, yes, he had forgotten, it was not simply a single prisoner. It was a single, extremely dangerous, insane captive, whose only purpose was to destroy them all. And, what was worse, he was an elf, which meant that he could cast a spell on them and turn them into sheep, stones, beetles, or even scrambled eggs. The King had heard enough tales and knew painfully well the legends his subjects told about the fair folk, and all of his attempts to put an end to this ignorance had been futile.

"Open the door," he said, his voice calm and firm.

The three guards turned a shade paler and exchanged a worried glance. Had their King gone mad?

"I said, open the door," Aragorn pointed out as calmly as possible when his words produced no reaction.

"But, my Lord –" One of the men tried to protest, but the ice-cold glare he received made the blood in his veins freeze.

"Do I need to open it myself?" The King asked softly, barely containing his anger.

The guards looked at each other indecisively. They seemed to be forced to choose between either facing their lord's ire or opening the door and being turned into scrambled eggs by the elven sorcerer. Neither of the options seemed pleasant, and all three of them looked down, shifting nervously on their feet.

Aragorn sighed in desperation and snatched the keys from one of the men's hands. The three stunned guards watched in horror as their king turned the key and the heavy door opened with a loud crack. I wonder if this is the thickest door they have in the dungeons here, Aragorn wondered briefly. He had no doubt that it was.

The slender figure of the extremely dangerous and insane prisoner rose and walked towards the king. He could take no more than two steps, however, as the heavy chains that tied him to the wall stopped his movement.

The guards looked away, afraid that simply the power of the clear azure gaze was enough to turn them into something unnatural. Their hearts pounded wildly, and beads of sweat rolled down the pale foreheads. One of them dropped his spear and crouched to take it, his eyes fixed the entire time on a very interesting stone on the floor.

"For Valar's sake, Legolas, will you ever visit a village and not be arrested?" The King asked, his voice a peculiar mixture of desperation, helplessness, anger, and the slightest hint of amusement.

The 'dangerous prisoner' smiled guiltily. "I am sorry, mellon nin, I really am. I admit I wanted to see you, but not in this manner. I did not mean any trouble to you. I am sorry you had to come all the way here."

"It is not your fault," the king said resignedly. He had received the news two days ago and had left immediately. And the news had been disturbing, although not surprising. In the village of Teloth in South Gondor, Legolas had been arrested for setting a fire to a house that had burnt completely. A woman had claimed that she had seen a creature with long golden hair amidst the flames.

Naturally, this was impossible. First of all, if Legolas had really wanted to burn a house, he would not have been so foolish not to hide his hair. Second, there was no possible reason the elf would have wanted to burn a house. Aragorn had no doubt what had caused the woman to see the golden hair, and unfortunately the realization was not encouraging at all.

When King Elessar had sat upon the throne of Gondor twelve years ago, he had been prepared to face many challenges. But there was something he had never anticipated. He had never expected the animosity and fear with which the uneducated people regarded the fair folk. He was pleased to see that men in Minas Tirith had more or less overcome their prejudices, probably because the fair Queen they all loved was an elf, but folk in the faraway villages had made no progress. The bedtime stories told to little children were often legends about elven sorcerers, who stole the naughty and disobedient children and turned them into their witless slaves. Some of the tales, Aragorn had to admit, were quite interesting and enjoyable to listen to, but, unfortunately, they were harmful beyond measure.

The entire madness had begun two years ago, when Legolas has visited one of the small Gondorian villages. The King had been shocked to receive the news that the Lord of Ithilien had been charged with pig theft and arrested. It had taken a fair amount of time to prove the elf's innocence. After that Legolas had had an elaborate series of misadventures and absurd charges, but the trials had gone relatively well. A letter from the king had usually been enough to ensure his release.

This time, however, it was different. The village mayor had refused to release the elf due to the severity of the crime. An entire house had burned, and this was considered a serious offence. Besides, all evidence, meaning the single witness, pointed against the elf.

"Release him!" Aragorn said, his voice firm and allowing no objections.

The guards exchanged nervous glances, once again doubting their king's sanity. The two simple facts that the heavy door was open, and that the strange creature had spoken, were frightening enough, and they had no desire to endanger themselves any further.

Aragorn sighed at the men's lack of response and was about repeat his order, when Legolas suddenly spoke. "Leave us alone," he said and suppressed his smile when all three of the men jumped in unison.

Although the guards desired nothing more than to leave and be as far away from the elf as possible, they could not go. They were not accustomed to taking orders from a prisoner, even less from a magical one. The youngest of them, a boy of eighteen with dark hair and dark blue eyes, looked pleadingly at his King, almost begging him to repeat what the elf had just said and make them leave.

Aragorn's suppressed anger was mixed with pity, for pity was the only emotion he could feel towards those men, who had never had the pleasure of knowing any elves. "Do as he says," he said. "Leave us alone."

The guards obeyed eagerly and rushed up the stairs. Aragorn gazed after them in wonder. He would have probably laughed if his friend had not been chained to the wall.

"I think this is a bad idea, Aragorn," the elf said as soon as the three figures disappeared from sight and hearing range. "Telling them to release me," he continued as an answer to the man's unspoken question.

The King frowned and looked at him in surprise. "But, Legolas, you have done nothing wrong! They cannot keep you here!"

"It is the law to arrest someone, suspected of setting a fire to a house," the elf argued.

Aragorn smiled. "I am the law, my friend. If I tell them to release you, they have no choice but obey."

"And this is precisely why you should not do this," the elf replied thoughtfully. "This would be a very bad example. It would be the same as telling your people 'The laws apply to everyone… except to the King's friends.'"

Aragorn nodded. "Unfortunately, you are right. But I cannot leave you here! This is ridiculous – they have no real proof!"

Legolas sighed sadly. "Proof or not, I am guilty in their minds, and it will be hard to convince them otherwise."

The King raised his head to meet his friend's eyes, and his face was set in a grim determination. "When is your trial?" He asked.

"In a week," Legolas replied softly and shuddered imperceptivity. It was too soon for him to be calm, but at the same time far away enough to make him nervous. He preferred it to be here and now, and have it over with.

"A week is enough," Aragorn muttered. "I will find a way to prove your innocence, my friend, I swear!" He stated solemnly. And if I cannot, I will order them to release you, and I could not care less about setting a bad example, he added in his mind. I will not let you rot here.

"I know you will," Legolas said with a smile. "But be careful – Elves are feared here. If you show your friendliness towards me, you might put yourself into danger."

"This is my kingdom, Legolas what could happen?" The man sighed under his friend's stern look. "Agreed, I will be careful, I promise," he conceded. "But I have to say I am impressed by your personal development, mellon nin," he added with a fond smile. "You started your path as a pig stealer, and now you are a fire starter. You are progressing really fast."

The elf snorted. "Well, I suppose I must have been influenced by the King in whose realm I live now. I have never had this kind of trouble before."

"That must be the reason," the former ranger admitted with a grin. Then his eyes turned serious and he clasped his friend's chained forearm. "I will be back before you know it, I promise. I just wish I could order them to remove those chains."

"You have done enough, thank you," Legolas said with a reassuring smile. "I will be waiting for your return."

The man tried to return the smile, but failed miserably. He had not seen his friend for four months and had missed him terribly. He had longed to see him again, and now his wish was granted, but he was seeing his friend chained in a cell over a crime he had not committed. It pained him to watch the elf that way, but he tried to ignore his gloomy thoughts as he left the cell and closed the oak door behind him. The sooner he left, the sooner he would be able to prove his friend's innocence.

Legolas waited for the door to close, and listened as the sound of his friend's footsteps slowly receded, and his eyes welled with moisture. "I am sorry I couldn't tell you, Estel," he whispered in the darkness. "I am so sorry."

---

The King of Gondor sat crossed-legged amidst the ashes, not caring that his clothes were covered with dirt. He had lit his long wooden pipe and was smoking contently. He had rarely smoked after he had been crowned, but he needed it now to clear his thoughts.

He inhaled the smoke and left it in his lungs for a second, staring at the ash-covered ground. Then he slowly exhaled, and the irregular shapes the smoke took before his face soothed his troubled mind.

The easiest way to prove that Legolas had not burned the house was to find who had actually done it. But who would have burned this house and why?

Why? This was a key. He had to find who had a reason to burn he house, and in this way he would discover who had done it.

After he had thought of a reason, he would need to find when exactly the house has been burned and check who had been able to do it at this time. Also, he would need to check how it was set on fire, and who would have had access to the materials needed.

He had not realized that he had stopped smoking. His right hand was playing carelessly with his pipe, and his left hand lightly stroked his short beard. Thoughts about possible reasons ran through his mind, as he stared at the ashes of the burnt house.

There were two main possibilities why the house was set on fire. Option one – the attack was directed against the owner of the house by someone who wanted to harm him. Option two – the attack was directed against Legolas. The lighting of the house has been only a means to have him arrested.

But why would anyone want Legolas arrested? Of course, it was possible that it was someone who was afraid of the elves, and wanted to get rid of the one who had come to visit their village. Or it was possible that the fire starter hated Legolas personally, for what reason, the King could not begin to fathom.

The thought of the woman who had seen Legolas crossed his mind. Has she really seen golden hair? Has the one who started the fire worn a blond wig to deceive any possible witnesses? Or had the long hair been just a product of light and shadow and her imagination?

Or maybe the woman was a part of the plot? Maybe the fire was started by someone she new? Maybe they were so afraid of Legolas, that they have done it to have the elf securely chained in the dungeon? Or maybe someone close to her, a husband or a brother, hated the owner of the house and had set it on fire, and she had lied to protect him, knowing fully well that the villagers would easily believe the elf story? The possibilities were numerous, and he felt that he needed to talk to this woman.

Suddenly someone next to him cleared his throat, and he was taken out of his thoughts. When Aragorn looked up, he saw a short man with a disproportionally large belly, grey hair and small dark eyes, that moved around surprisingly fast.

"I am honored you have visited my land, my Lord," he said, his voice loud and solemn. "I am Moris and this is my house… umm… this was my house."

Aragorn stood up and nodded at the man. Moris looked around indecisively, not sure what to do. He had never seen a king before and had no idea how he was supposed to act or speak. He even wondered if he was supposed to bow or not, but finally decided that this king looked too filthy to be bowed too. Finally Moris simply grinned the way he would have grinned at one of his old friends and handed Aragorn a small parchment.

"This is my list," he stated proudly.

"List?" Aragorn looked at him questioningly. "A list of what?"

"Of everything that was in my house," Moris answered. "Of course, I expect a full compensation for everything that has burned."

A year ago King Elessar had passed a new law. Whenever any of the Gondorian subjects lost property due to a natural disaster, such as flood, forest fire, or an earthquake, the treasury would assist their recovery. This fire was not a natural disaster, but obviously Moris did not care.

Surprised by the man's boldness, Aragorn looked through the list. Two armchairs, a wooden table, a hunting bow, a pair of boots… He could not concentrate on the list right now and put it into his pocket. "Worry not, you will be compensated," he murmured. Right now this was his least concern.

The man's face beamed. "Thank you my Lord! There are some things of great value to me that are lost forever, but I am sure you will do all in your power. Am I going to be compensated in goods or in money? And when will I receive it?"

Aragorn sighed. Moris' boldness was slowly creeping on his nerves. "You will receive it when I decide. I need you to answer a few questions first." The man nodded eagerly, and the king continued. "Where were you when the fire happened?"

"I was hunting in the woods with a group of friends," Moris replied.

"Hunting?" Aragorn raised an eyebrow in surprise and took out the list. "You have written down that your hunting bow has been in the house when it burned."

The man blushed. "Oh, maybe I made a mistake. Just scratch the bow from the list, it was with me. I do not need to be compensated for it."

Aragorn frowned. Had the man lied about the hunting trip? He could easily ask those 'friends' Moris had claimed to have gone with him, but they could lie as well.

However, the king considered another explanation, which seemed to him more likely. Moris had really gone hunting, and his bow had really been with him. He had added it to the list on purpose, to receive additional money. But if the man was able to do that for wealth, what else was he ready to do? Was it possible that Moris had set fire to his own house hoping to receive compensation greater than the true value? Was it possible that he had been the one who had framed Legolas? Had he accused the elf only to make the king himself come to Teloth?

So many questions, and all of them impossible to answer without knowing more about the village and its inhabitants. And what was the best place to find that information? He knew. Unfortunately, it was no place for a king. Aragorn smiled. He could not remember a time when this had stopped him.

---

Evening at the "Grey Rabbit" was noisy as usual. The innkeeper poured a mug of ale to a young man with wavy auburn hair, who sipped thirstily. A large man, seemingly drunk, passed by the boy and shoved him, making him spill the liquid all over his clothes. The young man said something that would have made his mother blush, and pushed the larger drunkard into one of the wooden tables.

Many of the man cheered and joined the fight. The innkeeper shook his head. A lot of liquor was spilled, but as far as he was paid for it, he did not care.

Suddenly his attention was brought to the door, which cracked open. A man entered, and the fight stopped momentarily, so that everyone could give him a proper stare. It was a rare occurrence for a stranger to visit "The Grey Rabbit", and everyone examined him with arisen curiosity.

The stranger looked travel-worn and scruffy. His dark coat was dusty, cut and sewn at many places. His boots were caked in mud. A hood cast a shade over his face, but they could still see locks of dark hair, and two eyes, shining like molten silver. He was tall and his stride was graceful and soft, and when his piercing gaze turned towards them, they quickly looked away.

The innkeeper approached him, still looking at him in interest. "Can I be of any help, master –"

"Mirdel," the tall man supplied. "My name is Mirdel. Yes, I am looking for a room to stay for the night and some good ale."

"We have some rooms available, and I hope my ale is good enough for your liking, master Mirdel," the innkeeper said. He could not take his eyes off the man. He could swear he had seen this face somewhere, but it was too covered with dust and shadowed by the hood, and he could not tell where.

The stranger thanked him, and after receiving the key for his room and a mug of ale, he retreated to a table in the corner, where he sat down and lit his pipe. The men in the inn had already forgotten his presence, and many of them had resumed the fight.

The disguised king let the smoke of his pipe hide his face even further and relaxed, carefully listening to every conversation in the room. For someone who stepped in an inn for the first time it would have sounded like a maddening cacophony of indistinguishable noises, but the former ranger had had decades of training, and could easily pick out the different voices.

Two men at a table next to his had a very passionate argument. One of them accused the other that the fish he sold had not been fresh, and his children had been sick after eating it. The other one replied, rather shouted, that his fish was always fresh, and the argument soon grew physical and the two men rolled to the floor, hands viciously pulling at each other's hair.

Aragorn sighed. This was very interesting, but it had nothing to do with the fire. His attention turned to another conversation.

"You saw him?" A boy no older than sixteen asked in awe.

"Yes," a grey-haired man said and smiled proudly. "I saw the elf just after they had arrested him and were taking him to the dungeons."

"What did he look like?" The boy asked, his eyes huge in wonder.

"Well, he is just as vicious as everybody says," the older man continued. "His eyes were cold and evil. The instant he looked at me, I felt my heart stop."

The boy gasped. "He didn't turn you into anything unnatural?"

"I was fortunate that day," the man said. "But I have to admit that in my entire life I had never been more afraid."

Aragorn needed all of his self-control not to interfere. His grip on the pipe tightened in suppressed anger and he tried to ignore the conversation. To call Legolas' crystal clear eyes 'evil' was the greatest wrong one could ever do.

"When are we doing it?" A hooded man from another table asked quietly. There was something in his tone that caught Aragorn's attention, and he listened carefully.

"In four days," another one replied just as quietly, obviously thinking that no one could hear him. But he had failed to take into account the former ranger's keen hearing. "There will be a new moon then, and the night will be dark."

Aragorn tensed. Whatever those man were planning to do, if they needed the cover of the night it could not be good. But whether it had anything to do with the fire at all, he could not yet tell.

The king listened carefully, and his eyes widened in disbelief. They were planning to rob the mayor's house, the wealthiest one in the village! Even if this had no connection to the fire, he needed to find out more.

Midnight had passed long ago, and many of the visitors started to leave the inn. Some of them were too drunk to walk on their own legs, and their companions carried them out. The group of bandits was one of the last ones to leave, and when they rose and walked out, Aragorn promptly stood up and followed them.

The group of men entered the stables, and the disguised king waited a few minutes before he followed. The stables were dark, and all horses seemed to be asleep. There was no sign that men had recently been there. Aragorn looked around confused, but suddenly gasped in pain and surprise as a heavy object was slammed against his temple. He fell forward, but caught himself and turned back.

Before him stood a young man, not older than twenty-five, holding a wooden chair. His eyes were wide and scared. Obviously this was the first time he had tried to stun someone by a blow on the head, and he had failed.

Almost failed, Aragorn thought bitterly, as his vision swam before him. The floor of the stables seemed to be rocking like the deck of a ship, and he had a hard time staying on his feet.

He tried to regain control over his senses when he noticed that seven men had surrounded him. One of them, a dark-eyes bandit maybe ten years older than the first one, laughed dryly. "Did you think we never noticed you were watching us?" He asked.

Aragorn mentally chastised himself. In his ranger years the people he followed never noticed his existence. He had clearly started to lose his good shape.

Everything that followed seemed to him to happen in slow motion. Two men lunged at him, and he kicked the first one in the stomach and punched the other one in the face. But then a huge hand grabbed his and held it in its iron grip. As he was trying to free himself, he never noticed the dagger thrown at him, and the only thing he could do when it embedded itself in his shoulder was cry out in pain.

And then he felt a pair of enormous hands around his neck. He tried to reach a weapon, and when he found none, he dug his fingernails into the rough skin, but to no avail. The grip tightened around his throat, and he felt as if his lungs would explode.

The grip tightened even further and Aragorn could feel his airways becoming narrower and narrower. He could not breathe. No air could get in or out of his lungs.

No! He could not give in! He could never leave Gondor without a ruler, and he would never leave Arwen and Eldarion. Moreover, if he never returned, Legolas would be charged with this bloody fire. But it was so hard to fight, so impossibly hard!

Bright yellow dots danced before his vision, and amidst them he could see the grinning faces of the bandits. His hands, which had until now worked to free himself from the iron grip, fell listlessly to his sides.

He could feel someone kick him in the ribs, but the pain was numb and distant. He could feel someone yank the dagger out of his wound, and he felt his own blood flow out. The bright spots had long ago been replaced by a crimson haze, thick and impenetrable. The only thing he could do now was to silently beg his loved ones for forgiveness.

"I am a careless fool," was his last thought, as his body slid to the floor completely limp.

---

TBC

9