Where Will You Go

by Espree

Banished from Gondor and hunted by those he once called his dearest friends, Legolas must fight for survival if he is to see his name cleared of the terrible crimes for which he has been framed. He finds refuge in Forodwaith, the icy northern lands...

2. Aftershock

Title: Where Will You Go?

By: Espree

Rating: Strong PG-13 ('T' on this site). This first chapter's about as violent as it's going to get (which is more than enough don't you think?).

Timeline: Post-ROTK, set in the fifth year of the Fourth Age. Legolas has not yet brought elves to Ithilien, and Eldarion has not yet been born. Gimli, in addition, has not yet moved into the Glittering Caves.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or anything created and copyrighted by Tolkien and New Line Cinema, I simply got bored and my muse decided to have a little fun with the characters. I'm making no profit from this, not now or ever. So don't sue, please.

Feedback: Yes, please, but no flames. If you don't like the story go read something else, don't waste your time and mine yelling at me because this isn't your cup of tea, so to speak. Constructive criticism is welcome, though.

Summary: Banished from Gondor and hunted by those he once called his dearest friends, Legolas must fight for survival if he is to see his name cleared of the terrible crimes for which he has been framed. He finds refuge in Forodwaith, the icy land of the far north, while some friends who have not given up on his innocence struggle to bring the real culprit to justice. But even if they succeed, can they find Legolas? And will they be able to convince him to come home; or has their friendship been ruined forever?

Warnings: Death, torture, angst, all that good stuff you've probably come to expect from a fic like this by now. In addition this story is non-slash, and any non-hetero love mentioned is brotherly/sisterly love, savvy?

A/N: Are you all thoroughly horrified, confused and just plain outraged now? You are? Good! Then you were paying attention last chapter. Now I know what you are all thinking… A.) Aragorn was major OOC and would never do anything so horrible to anyone, Legolas least of all. (Hmmm… maybe I should have entitled that chap "How To Tell There's Something Seriously Wrong With Your King" instead.) B.) Aragorn can't ban Legolas from Mirkwood or from sailing to the Undying Lands. C.) The king is in some serious trouble as far as the elves are concerned (not to mention just about everyone else, on that subject) D.) Legolas would realize that he could still go home to his father or sail to the West.

Well, you're all right, as you already know. However there is always a method behind the madness as far as my fics are concerned. Many of them may not be clear or make any sense at first, but they will be addressed and cleared up at some point ere the fic is done. Besides, if I never left you stewing in the dark for a while, where would all the excitement and suspense be? Nowhere.

And I hate unnecessary OOC, and make every attempt to avoid it as much as I can. In fact my perfectionism regarding the portrayal of Tolkien's beloved characters, as well as any and every other character I've ever tried to write in fanfics, is something which has greatly fueled my erratic and unreliable nature regarding updates. If the characters don't sound right to me, I won't post until they do. Unless their OOC-ness was intentional, as Aragorn's was in chapter one. So now that we're all cleared up on that let me first remind you that after having suffered as severe a physical and mental trauma as Legolas did in chapter one he's not going to be thinking very clearly at the moment. His mind has latched on to Aragorn's words and he's simply determined to find a place amongst the few Aragorn did not "ban" him from where he'll never see the king again, the king won't have a reason to even think of coming after him, and where he's very likely not to be found by anyone else who tries to find him. Let's face it, when someone has been through something that devastating, they tend not to want to have contact with anyone and shy away from people, especially those with any similarities (singular or multiple, obvious or not) or connections to the one or ones that hurt them. With someone with as distinctly proud a personality as Legolas has, it gets even worse.

But let's let everyone speak for themselves, shall we?

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Chapter 2: Aftershock

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The sound of the great gates closing rang in Faramir's ears as if it were the closing of a prison door, sealing the doom of those trapped behind it. 'Or the one it's trying to keep out,' Faramir thought. As Steward he was bound to back up Aragorn's actions as king, and defend him from both the rest of the world and also from himself. Something which he had quite spectacularly failed to do just now.

As his mind came out of the reeling shock that had obliterated most coherent thought for the past several moments, he realized the enormity of what had just taken place.

'We are in serious trouble,' was all his mind could supply him with as panic and fear began to set in. What Aragorn had just done could very well destroy the peace they had all worked so hard for, and send them straight back into a war quite possibly as serious as the Kinslaying begun by Feanor and his sons and followers.

He looked at Aragorn, who was sitting on his horse with such a grave countenance and wrathful look in his eye that the Prince of Ithilien was fearful of him. Long had he suspected that not was right within the mind of the king, and now he had proof beyond any reasonable doubt.

As if he could feel the eyes of his Steward upon him, Aragorn turned to look upon the younger son of the late Denethor II, staring at him with a glint of challenge in his eyes, as if daring him to speak out against his actions. And speak Faramir did.

"Aragorn, you and I need to speak with one another. Alone," he added before breaking eye contact and turning to the two ladies who looked quite ready to bolt at any moment. Though he had to admit to himself that he couldn't quite decide whether they would run away and hide until Aragorn came back to a better representation of sanity, or attack him outright and simply beat some sense into him. Arwen looked quite undecided, and the only thing that seemed to be holding back Eowyn's impending bout of violence was her worry that the queen seemed ready to fall from her horse if no one was there to steady her.

"Eowyn?" he called. When he saw he had her attention he continued, "Take the queen back to our rooms for now. I'll be in to check up on you later."

Arwen's head shot up, the intensity of her gaze leaving no doubt in Faramir's mind that she was the Lady of the Golden Wood's granddaughter. "You may speak with him after I have, Lord Faramir."

Faramir nodded mutely, and moved his mount out of her way as she urged her mare into a slow, dignified jog. "Let's go, Elessar."

Aragorn looked incensed that his queen would have the audacity to give him orders in public and opened his mouth to tell her so. Before he could get a word out, however, the queen turned back and speared him with a look that almost could have put even Galadriel's most furious glares to shame. Showing the first bit of wisdom he had in what seemed like forever to Faramir, the king closed his mouth and simply followed her.

Eowyn drew her stallion alongside her husband's horse, and he could see in her eyes that she was inwardly cheering Arwen on. Faramir had to admit he would very much hate to be the one the fair Evenstar ever got truly angry at. Arwen was, as elves often were, normally very easy-going and difficult to ruffle, but should one ever provoke her temper they were in for a rather rude awakening as to just how terrifying the Firstborn were in their full fury. (1)

At the thought of the fury of the elves, Faramir felt a chill go through his blood and he visibly shivered, though being late spring the morning weather was pleasantly warm. However the weather was the least of his concerns. What came first on his newly acquired list of worries was what would happen when the other elven nations got wind of this. Thranduil's wrath was legendary, and though weakened as his army was from the War of the Ring, he would not hesitate to launch an assault upon the equally-weakened Gondor. Lothlorien would not take kindly to the news either. Rivendell he couldn't be certain, as it was mostly empty these days after Elrond's departure. And the Grey Havens he couldn't even begin to guess, though he could fully expect at least an inquisition from them regarding Aragorn's audacity in thinking he could bar an elf from setting sail.

And what of their other allies? Gimli would be as equally furious as Thranduil, and Faramir made a mental note to find a way to ensure that the dwarf's axe was well hidden from him ere he was told the news of his friend. Nowadays their relations with the dwarves were far greater than they were before, and their alliance ever growing stronger. Without Gimli, that could possibly take a turn for the worse, as his people now considered him as much a hero as they considered his friendship with the elves (and the son of Thranduil in particular) strange.

The Shire would probably close itself off completely from the rest of the kingdom, as it had not done since before the war, not wanting to deal with a mad king, and the hobbits of the Fellowship would furiously protest Aragorn's actions. And a furious hobbit could be quite a force to reckon with, as Faramir remembered.

Rohan, well… there he was truly at a loss, but he knew Eomer himself would be just as enraged as his sister.

Faramir sighed, feeling a headache coming on. This was going to be quite a long day.

A light touch to his forearm caused him to look up into Eowyn's eyes. "I think we should inform our friends and my brother of this before Aragorn has a chance to send out messengers. If they read of his sentencing of Legolas before they know the full tale things will go very ill very fast."

"My thoughts exactly, my dear. But the question remains regarding how we can do so. Aragorn is clearly not in his right mind and Arwen is still grieving the loss of her child. She may have the strength to deal with Elessar's actions at the moment, but I worry for her should she be left to deal with him alone for the time it would take to inform all of the people who need to be informed."

Eowyn looked surprised. "What are you saying?"

Faramir smiled at her. "What I am saying, my dear, is that I think such a matter calls for you and I to deliver such dire news to our friends personally, rather than let them read it in a letter. They will be distraught and angry and 'tis better if we are there to comfort and sooth as we will undoubtedly be needed."

"Aye, and I would like to hear my brother's council myself, for I find myself at a loss for how we shall deal with the elven nations when they hear of our king's treatment of one of their princes," Eowyn's gaze darkened at the thought of war between Gondor and the elves.

"I would as well, but I believe it would be better to hear such straight from the horse's mouth, as you would probably say in you homeland."

The Lady of Ithilien's brow furrowed at that. "Actually I'm not really sure who started that particular saying. But I can say for sure that I have doubts it was the Rohhirim." Faramir couldn't help but laugh, the sound earning an inquisitive glare from the queen, who heard him even though she and her husband rode a good fifteen strides ahead. He silenced himself before Aragorn's attention was drawn as well.

"Do you mean to say that we are going to inform the elves ourselves, Faramir?" Eowyn asked.

Faramir nodded. "In a sense, and actually I shall be the one who informs them."

"Speak clearly, for we are nearly at the palace, where our conversation may have to be postponed until we are where we can be sure Aragorn will not get wind of this," she counseled.

The Steward nodded. "You and I shall ride forth to speak with your brother, then go our separate ways and between the two of us inform everyone who will need to become either informed or involved."

"We could leave Beregond with the queen," Eowyn suggested. Faramir shook his head at this. "No. Beregond was 'banished' from Minas Tirith and into my company for his disobedience of my father's commands when he thought me dead and was going to burn us both. In the past Aragorn has never kept Beregond from coming here with me, or bothered him about the incident. Truly he only did what he did because rules are rules when it comes to soldiers obeying their superiors. He meant Beregond no ill will then, and gave him the chance to better continue his loyalty to me," Faramir smiled as he thought of his trusted companion and friend, who was now Captain of his guards. He shook his head. "But in the state of mind Aragorn's in now, I do not trust him to leave Beregond alone. If he could publicly humiliate, torture, and banish Legolas as we just witnessed, I shudder to think what he could do if he decided that Beregond was breaking his banishment by being here without myself or you present."

"True," Eowyn agreed. "Then we shall simply have to take him with us."

To say that Arwen was incensed, was to make a severe understatement. Not even an eruption of Mount Doom could match her fury as she stormed through the halls of her home towards her and Aragorn's private chambers. Aragorn himself trailed a distance behind, causing her to wonder if the true severity of his actions was sinking in, or if he simply did not wish to exert himself trying to keep up with her anger-fueled stride.

When she had thrown open the doors and came to halt in the center of the sitting room, she bowed her head and took a deep breath, attempting to find some inner piece that would allow her to refrain from raging on incoherently and actually carry on an intelligent argument.

Footsteps behind her alerted the queen to her husband's arrival, and she took one last deep, calming breath. "I can't believe you," she began softly, though there was no mistaking the tone in her voice.

Aragorn's voice carried over from just inside the door. "And what do you mean by that?"

She almost made a grab for Hadhafang, before reminding herself that not only was her father's sword packed away in a chest in her bedchamber, but that such an action would do little to help right now. "I can not believe you hold your friends so cheaply, Elessar."

"I hold them as dear as they do me," Aragorn replied.

Arwen whirled to face him. "Then tell me thatspectacle out there was just a bad dream. Tell me that it was no more than a nightmare and that I may wake and find all as it should be. That I'll find you and Legolas and Faramir laughing and joking and carrying on like teenagers again. That the past few weeks were no more than a bit of indigestion. That what I witnessed today could only happen in such vicious places as Umbar and Harad!"

A tear welled up and she fought to suppress it. "That I'll wake up and find that the kind, caring man who would rather die than even dream of laying a finger on one of those he counted as dear to him is holding me and telling me that I'm just being silly. What happened Aragorn? What has befallen you that you would become no better than Feanor, and cause such hurt to one you call brother?" (2)

Aragorn's eyes narrowed. "Cause hurt to one I call brother? Why do you not ask Legolas that! It was he who hurt me, Arwen, not the other way around."

"I can't after what you've done! How can you be so sure it was him! Everything that has happened has been nothing more than one coincidence after another. Alone I would have called them simply bad luck, but the night I lost the baby was just too much. Aragorn, someone's after us."

"Do you think me a fool? I've known that for weeks! And I've been trying to protect us and find the assassin since then. And now that I have you are angry with me?" Aragorn looked as though he couldn't figure out what was going on.

"I am angry because rather than find out the truth, you simply jumped to conclusions and pinned it on the first person available," Arwen said.

"Legolas was at the heart of every incident that occurred. Everything that went wrong, he was involved in somehow," Aragorn shook his head. "I told you what I found the night you were attacked."

Here the debate got tricky. Arwen knew that the key lay in the gaping blackness that was her memory of that terrible night. So long as she could not remember Aragorn would only have Legolas' word regarding what had transpired after she had decided to retire for the night, and his own account of coming into the room to find her lying unconscious and terribly wounded on the floor as Legolas stood over her with a bloody blade. Arwen shook her head. Though her husband would never lie to her, her heart told her that there was more to it than that. Legolas had protested against the accusations, saying that someone else had attacked her and he had tried to save her.

Between believing her own heart and instincts, and the word of her love who throughout this whole ordeal had become less like himself each passing day, she would put her trust in her heart and instincts. And they told her that Legolas had been telling the truth, which meant that the one who wanted the royal family dead was still out there, roaming free. And able to attack and kill again.

"You told me one story, Aragorn," she said, "and Legolas told me another. One that was far more plausible in my eyes than yours. You did not witness all that took place before you came, and if Legolas truly wanted anyone dead there are far quicker and easier ways for him to do so. He doesn't fit the method of operation being used here Aragorn, and I hope you'll see that before it's too late."

Aragorn stalked up to stand before her. "I am not wrong. It was him, and I was a fool for ever counting him as one close to me."

"No, you were wrong and a fool to accuse him, humiliate him, hurt him, and punish him for something he did not do! Has it not occurred to you just how far out of line you have stepped, Husband?" she pierced him with a scathing gaze. "You have committed a wrong that could be considered an act of war! You know Thranduil as well as I, do you really think he will believe your word over that of his son's? That he will turn Legolas away? You may be able to banish Legolas from the reunited kingdom, but you cannot ban him from a realm in which he is next in line for the throne, nor can you ban him from any other elven nation. And Thranduil and his kin will turn on you for this. Our alliance with them will be no more, and we will be lucky to escape war with them!"

"Even if Thranduil marches on us, his army is too weakened from the fight against Gol Guldur to do us any damage," Aragorn said.

"Our armies are just as decimated! And we are stretched even more thinly having to continue the border fights with the Haradrim."

"But we have allies to strengthen us," Aragorn insisted.

"Lorien will not aid us; their alliance is first and foremost with Eryn Lasgalen. If war breaks out between us and Thranduil, Celeborn will either not become involved at all, or, considering the grievance committed and your arrogance, he will march with the elves of the greenwood against us," Arwen maintained. "And don't think of mentioning Rohan next. Eomer has a country to rebuild and cannot empty it out and march over here whenever you feel the need to get into trouble. He has his own alliances with the elves and he will not forsake them for your madness."

"Imladris will answer." Arwen couldn't believe her ears.

"Imladris will answer? Imladris will answer! I will be shocked if Elladan and Elrohir ever call you 'brother' again, let alone defend you! Legolas was as dear to them as he was to you, and they will not see such 'evidence', as you call it, as you do. Even if they did, they would never condone your treatment of him! They and my father did not raise you to be cruel to others Aragorn, and in my eyes you have shamed them this day."

Her gaze lowered, as the tears she'd been able to hold back thus far threatened to fall with renewed force. "You have shamed me as well," her eyes rose, with one last bit of determination, "And the Fellowship and everything it stood for. By your actions everything so many have fought and died and sacrificed has been threatened. There cannot be peace if you start another war, and I will not stay to see you ruin the fruits of everyone's efforts."

With that she brushed by him and walked away, her head held high. At the door she paused. "When the man I married… The man I gave up my immortality and forsook what was my birthright to be with returns, so shall I. I pray that be soon, before you add any more such deeds as this morning's to your conscious, and I pray that Estel is not gone forever." (3)

And then she was gone, leaving a stunned and bewildered king in her wake.

Eowyn stood, gazing out at as much of the Pelennor Fields as the window of her and Faramir's rooms would allow. It actually was a good bit of them, for which she was grateful this day, though ultimately it did her spirits little good. The one she wished to see out there was nowhere to be seen, something that she could not decide as being good or bad.

It meant that Legolas was not so badly off that he had collapsed once out of the range of the wall guards' bows, and was still able to get away from here and Elessar's wrath, but it also meant that he truly was gone.

And the chances of her ever seeing him again were so minute it made her want to weep. She was no fool. Aragorn could bar no elf the right to sail from these shores. Legolas would see this, and if he did not return to his father's lands to live out the remainder of his years on Middle earth within the borders of his homeland—another place Aragorn could not keep him from, she mused—he would travel to the Grey Havens and leave.

She wondered if perhaps that would not be kinder for him.

He suffered from the sea's constant call; that much was obvious. But he made a vow to stay so long as his mortal friends still lived unless the sea longing became so severe that he must set sail or go irrevocably mad. Would he still keep it after this morning? Aragorn had wronged him, and had he been his only mortal friend she was certain the fair woodland elf would not hesitate to leave. But he had other friends, many other friends.

Gimli, whom he counted as dear to him as his own kin. Merry, and Sam, and Pippin, for whom he made sure to be present whenever they came to visit and was always delighted to see. Eomer, with whom he always loved to go riding with and laughingly debate over whose people were the better horsemen. Elladan and Elrohir, who were as much surrogate brothers to him as they were friends. Arwen, whom he had much respect for and regarded almost as a younger sister.

And of course there was herself and Faramir.

Would Legolas stay for all of them? Or was it simply too much to hope for now?

A hand at her shoulder made her start and give a soft curse, until she saw it was only Faramir. Still inwardly kicking herself for becoming so distracted she had not noticed his approach, the Lady of Ithilien leaned into his embrace, gratefully taking the comfort he offered and lamenting all the more that she could not offer the same to the hurting friend who somewhere out there needed it far more than she.

"Are you alright, Eowyn?"

She sighed. "As alright as I can be. I can't stand this, Faramir. I want to go find him, when we ride out. I want to find him and let him know that he has only been forsaken by one friend, not all. I want to make sure he is alright and know that he is safe and his wounds cared for."

Faramir laughed. "You make it sound as though he was your son."

Eowyn didn't laugh, though she did agree that she did sound rather mothering. "I want to help him, Faramir. I want to know that he is going to be okay."

"I do too, my love. But we cannot go looking for him. We have to tell the others this tale so that they may be of help to us, and we have to find a way to bring our king back to his true self," Faramir's heart clenched. Even though he knew it to be the road they must travel, he wished it were not so. He was of one mind with his wife in wanting nothing more than to go rescue their friend, but for now the needs of the many would have to outweigh the needs of the few, until they had diverted the impending disaster looming over Gondor.

"I know, but it is a bitter pill to swallow," the fair lady in his arms murmured.

Faramir could only nod, as he willed himself to wake and find this all naught but a dream.

The door burst open, and Arwen stumbled into the room. Eowyn untangled herself from the steward's arms and ran to her aid. Catching her before she could fall on her face, she led the queen over to a chair and sat her down, pulling another close and sitting in front of her, rubbing Arwen's cold hands between her own.

"What happened, my lady?" Faramir asked, joining them.

"I'll be alright. I spoke with Elessar, and the conversation taxed me emotionally."

"What did he say, Arwen?" Eowyn queried. Arwen shook her head. "I know not what has happened to him. He is not my Estel anymore. He did not seem to care when I spoke of the fact that Thranduil would not take his treatment of Legolas kindly, and that Gondor's alliance with Eryn Lasgalen would end. He merely said that we have other allies who would aid us in war against the wood elves. I told him he was mad to think any of the elves would help us, more the opposite if they chose to get involved at all, and that Eomer can not afford to chance his alliance with them."

Eowyn's brow furrowed. "And what had he to say to that?"

Arwen choked back a sob. "He said that my brothers and Rivendell would help him."

She buried her face in her hands. "How could he even for a moment think such a thing? Imladris will not ride against Eryn Lasgalen unless the elves of the Wood themselves wronged them greatly. And Elladan and Elrohir will likely never again count Aragorn as anything more than an in-law after they find out what he did to Legolas."

Her eyes came up to meet Eowyn's. "What happened? What has caused him to become so cruel and uncaring?"

Eowyn's heart went out to her and Faramir shook his head sadly. What happened? That was the question everyone was asking, and the question no one could find an answer to. It just didn't make any sense that someone as dynamic as Aragorn could just take such a turn of personality in so short a time. Even grief and turmoil as the palace had been through lately could not be the only cause. Not for something as severe as this. Surely there must be some plausible explanation.

Now Faramir was more torn than ever. Arwen could not handle things here with Aragorn on her own, and it was obvious that if left alone Aragorn would bring the entire country down with whatever madness that had taken hold of him.

They needed help, and they needed it before things could deteriorate beyond redemption. The only way they could get it, would be to leave and bring help back with them.

"My lady," Faramir said, crouching down next to Eowyn's chair so that he was more eye-level with her. "I feel that the situation has grown out of our control, and I think you will agree with me when I say that we need to bring in help from the outside if we are to see our king whole and well again."

Arwen nodded, and Faramir continued. "Eowyn and I, with your permission, as Aragorn is hardly in the state of mind where I would go to him for anything, wish to ride out and inform our allies personally of what has transpired-"

"Rather than have them be informed by a messenger of Aragorn's which will set this entire thing off like one of Gandalf's fireworks," Eowyn interjected.

"Precisely," Faramir said.

Arwen nodded. "I will give you my permission to leave. Where will you be going first?"

"First we go together with Beregond to Edoras, and speak with my brother," Eowyn answered. "Then Beregond and I shall ride north and see Gimli while Faramir rides to Rivendell and then to the Shire."

"We will also need to inform Celeborn and Imrahil," Faramir added, to which Arwen agreed.

"Yes, if anything go speak with Imrahil first. Tell him that if he is able I would have his aid while you are gone. I will not even pretend I can handle him by myself."

There was no need to specify who 'he' was.

"I shall go to Lothlorien and speak with Celeborn," Eowyn said. "But what of Thranduil?"

"And Cirdan," Faramir added. "Since this affair so closely involves the elves I hardly think it wise or fair that we not include him."

"You can send word to Cirdan from Rivendell or the Shire. As for Thranduil… I counsel that we wait, and inform him last, after we have heard from everyone else and have the means with which to stop the Woodland King from going down the warpath," Arwen answered.

"You mean Lord Celeborn," Eowyn remarked wryly. Few there were that could stand up to Thranduil when such a rage took him, and Celeborn was one of the even fewer still residing in Arda. Without him there would be little they could do to placate the Woodland King.

The queen couldn't help but smile. "Yes."

"When do you plan to leave?" she asked, as the thought occurred to her.

"I will first go to Dol Amroth and retrieve Imrahil," Faramir said. "Eowyn will wait here with you. When he and I return we shall leave the day after."

"Sounds as though we have a plan to me," Arwen said, standing. "Thank you both; I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Demand that your brothers moved in to help you maintain your sanity?" Eowyn quipped.

Arwen gave her a stricken look.

"What?" Eowyn asked, wondering what it was she had said.

"Did it not occur to you just why I spent almost all of my years in Lothlorien after my father took Estel in?"

They all laughed at that, as images of the tales they had heard of the infamous adventures of the twins and Aragorn—and later on Legolas—came to the forefront of their minds. None of them envied Lord Elrond all the headaches, stress, sleepless nights, and near heart attacks that his sons and their friends had given him throughout those years.

Loro cursed as his plow once again sank too deep, catching in the mud and halting his progress for what seemed like the five hundredth time since he'd begun that morning. Spring was moving on, and if he wanted to ensure a good crop before the frost, these seeds needed to be planted by the end of the week. He glared at the offending plow, hoping against hope that it would spontaneously leap up and start moving again.

Of course, nothing of the sort happened.

Shaking his head, the middle-aged human let go of the handles and crouched down to once again dig the infernal contraption out of the deeper mud so that the mule could pull it free and they could continue on. Hopefully they'd actually manage to finish this particular field within the next day or so.

Sucking in a deep breath he stuck his hands under the blade and hoisted up, bracing with his heels stuck deep in the soil. With a cluck and a whistle, the mule walked forward. Loro made certain to be quick to let go once the plow was free so that he wouldn't lose his fingers. Wiping the sweat from his brow and sighing, he caught up to animal and plow and once again took up his place behind both.

Not too long after, the mule stopped dead in its tracks, and since they were of course in one of the softer parts of the field when it happened, the plow once again sank too deep and got stuck. Once again Loro cursed, and when he saw how deep the plow had sunk this time, he threw his hands up in disgust and began to unhitch the mule. Without help, he'd never get the darned thing out now, and even if he did it'd take too long for him to hope to get anything more done that day.

Leaving the plow as it was he left the field, mule in tow, and began the trek back to the house. He'd get back to work in the morning.

Deciding he was sick of trying to wade across the boggy fields, Loro instead walked him and the mule back to the main road that ran along the border of the western edge of his property. As he walked, intent on simply putting the work animal away and sitting on the porch with his pipe, he quite missed the figure lying face-down on the roadside. The mule however, snorted and sidestepped, casting a wary glace at the prone creature.

Loro was quite unprepared for the mule's reaction, and got his shoulder wrenched a bit as the animal's sidestep placed him behind the man, almost putting the human between himself and the unmoving body.

"And just what is your problem?" he asked crossly, glaring first at the mule and then followed his line of vision to the figure.

"Oy! Are you alright?" he asked. When he received no answer (not that he'd been expecting one); he let go of the mule and moved closer. Giving the body a nudge with his foot he shook his head and crouched down.

Long, blonde hair spilled across the man's back and onto the road. His shirt seemed loose against his frame, indicating it was either torn, unfastened, or absurdly big on him. He frowned. Looking at the quality of the cloth he could see that though a bit dusty it was well kept and of obviously fine make. These were no peasant clothes. The well cared for condition of his hair spoke of one who could afford the time to care for it properly. The intricate braids attested to the idea that the man lived in a world where being fashionable was a must. This was undoubtedly one who probably spent his time in a nobleman's court; if he was not of noble birth himself.

Intrigued, Loro reached for the man's shoulder, and pulled him over onto his back. Underneath him lay a pack and cloak, of good quality but not nearly as fine as the rest of his attire. Skin and features far fairer than most humans could be seen despite the dirt picked up from lying in the road, but it was the stranger's chest that drew the farmer's attention.

An angry dark depression could be seen in the skin right over his heart, the skin around it red and obviously burned as well. Loro gasped at the design it made in the man's skin. He looked at the other's face, noting the silver collar around his neck and the pointed ears.

"An elf," he murmured. "And obviously one who got himself in a fair bit of trouble, by the looks of it."

He shook his head and stood. "I hope you manage to get back on your feet, my friend, but I'll not bring trouble into my house."

With that he got up and walked over to the mule, grabbing his lead once more and clucking to him.

When he got up to the house he put the animal away and went inside. His wife stood at the hearth, putting a loaf of bread into the oven. She looked over at the sound of the door opening. "Plow actin' up again?" she asked.

"Stuck good 'n deep," he replied.

"What were you looking at out on the road?"

"What?" Loro looked at her in surprise.

"I saw you through the window. Jay saw something, and you bent down for a good while looking at it. I want to know what was so interesting that you actually took the time to examine it."

Loro grumbled to himself. He should have known she would have seen him. There wasn't much she didn't see, after all. But knowing her she'd want to help, and he really didn't want any trouble as that elf out there was bound to bring in. His wife tapped her foot, getting impatient with him.

"Alright, it was one of them elves. Passed out on the road."

She leveled an eyebrow at him. "Elves don't simply 'pass out on the road'. What was wrong with him?"

Inwardly Loro cursed. "He had a fresh brand on his chest. Nice big one, too. Apparently the pain got the best of him."

His wife's eyes blazed. "And you left him out there?" she practically screeched.

Damn, now there was no way he'd get away with leaving the creature out there.

"Sala, there's a collar on him too. If he's not some criminal then he's somebody's slave. I really don't want any trouble for bringing him in."

Sala was having nothing of it. "Well if you won't help him then I will."

She hung her apron on a hook and marched out the door, heading for the mule's paddock. "Here Jay!" she called. The mule lazed its way over, willing to obey but not wanting to go back to work.

She grabbed his halter and tied a lead rope on. Then she led him out of the paddock and down the road. It didn't take her long to spot the elf, and she increased her pace, pulling the reluctant Jay behind her.

When she got to him she knelt down and examined the brand on the fair being's chest. Sala hissed. Whoever had done the branding obviously didn't know what they were doing, or was rather inexperienced, for the brand was deeper than necessary and the edges slightly torn where the brand had begun to fuse to the skin before it had been taken away. The area around it was blistered, and obviously would be quite painful when the elf woke up.

Sala gazed at his fair face, noting the closed eyes. "Who was so cruel as to do this to you my friend?" she wondered out loud. Checking him over for any other wounds she found the two slightly smaller but identical brands on the palms of his hands. Sala hissed in sympathy. They were much the same as the one on his chest and obviously done by the same person.

Shaking her head sadly Sala pulled Jay closer to the elf's body. She then stood looking down at him, wondering how she was going to get him up onto the mule's back. Normally she'd simply hoist him up and plop him face down across Jay's back, but doing so would both aggravate and possibly tear the edges of the chest brand.

"So how are we going to do this?" a voice at her shoulder asked. She started. So intent was she on the elf that she hadn't even noticed her husband's approach.

"The best way would be to sit him astride and then let him lean back so the brand's not touching anything," Sala replied, recovering quickly from her shock.

Loro nodded. "Well then let's get him inside at least before someone sees us."

Sala was about to remark that there was no one nearby to see them, but not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth she simply accepted his help in whatever manner he was willing to give it. A moment later they had the elf carefully loaded onto Jay's back and were walking slowly back to the house so neither his wounds nor his head and neck would be jarred more than necessary by his awkward position.

As they went Sala began to run through her mind the care their new guest would need over the course of his stay, being very grateful the entire time that she had trained and worked as a healer for years before marrying and moving out to one of the more lonely corners of the plains. However this was going to be a challenge for her skills, as brands and elves were not things she'd ever had to deal with before.

For that she was also grateful for her love of a good challenge.

Loro was glad that at least he would not be the one taking care of the elf. At least if someone came calling about the being, he could simply turn a blind eye and say that he was not involved with any such creature. Technically he wasn't—his wife was. So long as he had nothing more to do with the creature after they'd gotten him into the house, that is.

He found that the arrangement suited him very well, actually.

-

TBC…

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(1) Even though Arwen technically is human after deciding to stay with Aragorn and share a mortal fate with him, she was still raised as a princess of elves, and therefore it is only her body that is human. She'll still act like an elf, look fairer than human women and all that, including having the famed wrath of the elves.

(2) This is in refference to the Kinslaying started by Feanor over the Silmarillion. There were three kinslayings alltogether, though Feanor only took part in the first. All three were characterized by the fact that only the elves took part in them, fighting and slaying their own kind.

(3) This is a double entendre on Arwen's part, for those of you who didn't pick it up. Aragorn was named in his youth 'Estel' by Lord Elrond to conceal his true identity as the son of Arathorn and heir to the throne. Many people who knew him in his youth and of his childhood in Rivendell still call him 'Estel', which you should know by now is elvish (sindarin) for 'hope'. Arwen especially reffered to him as Estel, and in the appendix of ROTK her last words to Aragorn as he died were calling the name Estel, trying to keep him from departing from this world. In this chapter she is both saying that she prays that hopeforthings turning out alright is not gone by his actions, and hope that her Estel, the man she fell in love with before either knew he was heir to Gondor, is not lost to this new, crueler pesonality.

A/N: Well that seems like it's a good place to stop. It's now 1:55 in the morning and I'm exhausted, so if the content's not perfectly edited I apologize in advance. I'll look it over more thoroughly tomorrow—er—this afternoon. This chapter was just mostly dialogue, but as one reviewer so kindly pointed out to me—I had a lot of explaining to do. So while I can't explain everything to you (there wouldn't be a story if I did), I can at least clear a few things up that I was planning to clear up almost immediately anyways. Such as the fact that everyone being in-character except for Aragorn wasn't an accident, which I stated in the beginning of the chap anyways. I also know that much of the dialogue in the beginning regarding Arwen, Faramir and Eowyn especially was repetitive. This was further to emphasis that everyone is thoroughly worried and confused as to why their king's suddenly gone bipolar on them. But I think I've rambled on enough. I'm hoping that chapters will continue to let themselves be written as quickly as this one has. In any case though, I plan to do what I'm doing with my other stories and update whatever I have written the second weekend after the last post. That way you'll have an update about every two weeks at the most, and if anything happens that will disrupt this schedule, you can read about it on my livejournal. Reviewer responses, for those of you who do not know, can be found on my livejournal page, and are put up when I post each new chapter.

So for now I am going to thank you all profusely for your wonderful feedback, and hope that it continues, as it really is a help to me in my writing, as well as a great source of inspiration. Nemarie until next time.