Here's chapter three! Sorry for the delay, but unfortunately school works takes up too much of my time! Enjoy!

"Papa!"

The anguished cry from his son echoed in his ears, traveling straight to his heart and causing it to ache with an intensity he never wished possible. His paternal instincts urged him to run after the child and comfort him with words and touch, but his survival instincts kept him rooted to the spot. He tightly clenched his eyes shut; breathing in and out as deeply as he could while silently sending out prayers that he'd be reunited with his son and spouse soon. With that last thought in mind, Aragorn opened his eyes and steeled his gaze towards the woods as he steadied the grip on his sword.

The sense of impending danger made him hyper-aware. The habits he had picked up from his time as a Ranger resurfaced and he welcomed them gratefully. He heard every gentle rustle of leaves, every splash of stream upon rock, and…the footfalls of approaching men. The sounds of forest debris being crunched under boot steadily grew louder and it wasn't long before shadowed figures were spotted amongst the trees. The figures seemed to multiply as they drew closer; first three, then five until there were eight in total. Eight against one. The odds did not favor him, but then again, he had fought and won against far greater numbers.

Holding his ground, the king of men stood, sword drawn, as the brigands stepped through the safety of the trees and into the camp. His eyes swiftly ran over each man, making note of their stances and weapons. Three of them had bows and arrows, the rest had swords and daggers. Their clothes weren't the finest, tattered and stained as they were. The men appeared to be middle-aged, lines and stubble covering what was visible of their cloaked faces. They wore no marking that might indicate where they had come from which made it difficult to determine what exactly they wanted. Were these perhaps men of Gondor seeking a ransom? Were they assassins sent by a lord of another land to eliminate a perceived threat? As his mind raced, his body remained unmoving. There was no point in putting up appearances; these men came looking for trouble.

As they all settled into a semicircle in front of their king, a burly man sauntered forward, arms crossed.

"Well, well. Would you look here, gents," he announced sardonically, "Appears the king's wandered too far from his castle!"

The men snickered at the jibe. Aragorn ignored the blatant disrespect in favor of glaring at the stranger.

"Oh! Dear me, where are my manners?" the man feigned offense before swooping into a theatrical bow, "Rueben, son of Reginald, at your service, Your Majesty."

"I'd rather you not waste your breath on mockery and use it instead to state your purpose here," Aragorn replied, his voice laced with an authority that intimidated most men, but apparently not this one.

The stranger slowly rose into an upright position, removing his hood to reveal a head of thick copper hair that didn't quite reach his shoulders. As he lifted his face, he locked gazes with the king, eyes hard and determined, lips raised in a smirk.

"Tut, tut," his mouth turned downward in an artificial pout, "The king doesn't like to play. Very well. We'll get right to it then. You!" he pointed to the man furthest from his left, "Check the tent."

Aragorn started, knowing the man would find nothing inside but still opposed to being searched without an explanation.

"You won't move a single limb," Rueben interjected as Aragorn attempted to block the approaching stranger, "Unless you want to have an arrow embedded in it."

Aragorn glanced at the men surrounding him, two of which had arrows drawn and aimed directly at him. He clenched his jaw in barely contained anger. He didn't take too lightly to being threatened.

"Nothing!" a man called from behind as he exited the empty tent.

"Figured as much," Rueben sighed, unsheathing his sword and stepping close as he pressed the tip into Aragorn's chest, the pressure too light to pierce flesh but heavy enough to make its presence known.

"Where's that half-breed son of yours, Elessar?" the man probed.

Aragorn's eyes flashed and his body tensed at the insult to his son and Rueben didn't fail to notice. Smirking again, he pressed further, determined to break through the king's stoicism.

"Come to mention it, where's the elven whore who parades as your spouse?"

In one swift motion, Aragorn raised his arm, knocking the offending weapon out of his way while he hooked his foot behind one of Rueben's and sent the man falling to the ground. He straddled the man, using one hand to grasp the collar of his shirt while the other held his sword at his throat.

"Take care how you speak of my family, you bastard, or those words will be your last," the king spat, aware of the men who now surrounded him with weapons raised, but far too furious to care. If he died killing this man for the slurs made against his loved ones, it would be worth it.

Cautiously, Rueben raised his hands in submission, cool eyes never leaving those of the seething king.

"You seem to be a reasonable man, King Elessar," he began, speaking calmly and slowly, "If you kill me, my men will kill you and then continue on to get what we came here to get in the first place."

Tightening his grip, Aragorn drew the man's face closer to his own, "And what exactly did you come here to get?"

"Let me up and I'll explain everything."

Aragorn eyed the man skeptically.

"I promise."

The king knew any promises coming from this man were hollow, but still. Information was being offered and it was in his best interest to know it. With a rough shove to the ground, Aragorn released the man and stood. Offering a cunning grin that showed off a row of dirty, chipped teeth, Rueben stood and brushed himself off. The two men stared at each other, their mutual disgust obvious to all those present.

"I'm waiting," Aragorn broke the silence in a nonchalant manner, doing his best to disguise his eagerness.

After another brief pause, Rueben broke eye contact with the king to glance around at his men, seeming to have a silent conversation that made Aragorn begin to feel uncomfortable. When Rueben's eyes settled on Aragorn once more, his smile dropped and his face hardened.

"Tie him up."

Aragorn immediately thrust his sword into the gut of the man closest to him. A dagger nicked his upper arm and he swung around, dodging a weapon while stabbing the offender in the chest. Another grabbed him from behind and he reared his head back, breaking his attacker's nose. Suddenly, three men were on him at once. He managed to slice one on the thigh before his sword was knocked out of his hand and he was pushed to the ground. He made to get up but was stopped as a man loomed over him, arrow notched and aimed directly between his eyes. He met the gaze of the archer, surprised to find that the eyes seemed to be pleading with him, as if he didn't want to shoot him if he didn't have to. Looking more closely at his face, Aragorn noticed that this man was young, lacking the beard and lines that marred the faces of his companions. A wave of sorrow washed over the king as he was reminded of his son. Sighing, he raised his hands in the same way Rueben had done, allowing his wrists and ankles to be bound together as the bowman stepped way.

"You two!"

Aragorn turned his head in the direction of Rueben to see him singling out two men – a big, burly gentlemen and the young archer.

"Follow the river south," Rueben ordered, "The elf and the boy have obviously fled so see if you can track them. And you two," he pointed to another archer and a man with donning daggers, "Go north and see if you can find any trace of them that way. If you find them, bring me the boy unharmed. You have until sunrise. Go!"

Panic caused Aragorn's heart to beat wildly. These men wanted his son. Why? And what's more, they didn't care if they had to kill Legolas to get him. While his mind and heart were in turmoil, he outwardly tried to remain calm. He didn't want Rueben to have his suspicions confirmed by displaying an intense reaction.

The copper-haired man watched as his men disappeared from view. He hoped they wouldn't return empty handed in the morning. Turing around, he found the roped king glaring at him. He walked over to the man and plopped down on the ground next to him. Smiling, he said,

"That was an impressive fight, Your Majesty. For a moment there, I worried that you might actually kill us all."

When I get out of these ties, I will most certainly kill you all, Aragorn vowed silently.

When the king offered no comment, Rueben stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his elbows. He relished the fact that he, an ordinary man, now held power of this mighty king.

"I guess explanations are in order," he said with an air of amused indifference.

If his hands were free, Aragorn would have punched this heathen in the face. As it were, he knew the man was trying to get to him, like he took some form of twisted pleasure in taunting the monarch. So Aragorn remained still, disinclined to giving his captor any more satisfaction than he already had.

"What do you want with my son?" he demanded instead.

"I don't want him."

Aragorn blinked.

"Then who does?" he asked forcefully.

That annoying smirk was back on Rueben's face.

"Tell me, Elessar," Rueben began, evading the king's question, "Have you noticed how things have changed recently? People not quite acting like they used to, an uneasiness dangling in the air, but no one is quite sure why?"

Aragorn didn't answer, but the flicker of surprise behind those grey eyes told Rueben that he knew what he was referring to.

"Ah, so you have noticed!" the man gloated, "And you've just decided to do nothing about it…"

"It's getting handled," Aragorn growled.

"Not well enough, apparently…"

"What is the meaning of this discussion?" the king interrupted, "What is it that you want?"

Reuben was unfazed by the outburst. Instead, he sat up and leaned in close to Aragorn's face. Aragorn drew back slightly, but his gaze never faltered.

"What I want," the man began, "is to watch your world fall apart and savor the tortured look in your eyes as you stand by unable to prevent it. The crime, the fear, the darkness - that's only the beginning," Rueben lowered his voice, "Something is coming, Elessar. Something that will only grow and spread until all of Middle Earth is consumed by it."

Aragorn was disturbed by the sadistic gleam in Rueben's eyes. His words made no sense and Aragorn wondered if he was delusional or if the man really knew something that he himself did not. Deep down, however, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a truth to Reuben's words and that something darker and more powerful than he realized was at work. If that were the case, he needed to know more. Maybe he wouldn't kill Rueben after all; at least not immediately. He still had questions that needed answers…

"And what does Eldarion have to do with it?"

Rueben paused, scanning the king's face as if searching for something before grinning and looking down at his hands. When he looked at the king once more, his expression was serious.

"Everything."


He ran hard. The precious burden in his arms did little to hinder his speed. By now, they were quite a distance away from their camp, but he had no intention of slowing. He didn't allow himself to think of Aragorn. He knew if he did, his heart would lurch and he'd lose his footing. Instead, he focused on his breathing; in through the nose, out through the mouth. His lungs burning the further and faster he ran. He focused also on the slight pressure in the pads of his feet each time they struck the hard ground. But most importantly, he focused on the light weight that was resting against his shoulder – he was the reason he was doing this after all. Eldarion had only recently stopped crying; his confused and tortured sobs now nothing more than quick, breathy gasps. Legolas did his best to comfort him, murmuring reassurances in his ear and stroking his back. He knew the boy had to be tired. Not only did crying tend to wear him out, but he hadn't had a proper sleep to begin with. He had been asleep for no longer than an hour before Legolas had roused him and carried him off into the forest with little explanation. He couldn't imagine what was going through his son's mind. Perhaps with some sleep his troubled thoughts would fade. He knew the boy would find no rest in his arms and so, like it or not, they'd have to stop soon.

As Legolas became preoccupied with deciding when and where the pair should rest for the night, he failed to pay proper attention to his surroundings. A low branch that hung out along his path caught him unawares and thwacked him across his left cheek and eye as he ran through it. The sudden sting made him gasp and he nearly stumbled.

"Ada?"

Slowing down, the elf brought a hand to his injured face, hissing as he gently ran his fingers along the welt that was beginning to form. His eye was watering profusely and he gave in to the urge to keep it closed.

"You're hurt," Eldarion whimpered as he placed a tiny palm on his father's uninjured cheek.

"It will be fine, little one," Legolas panted as he came to halt and gently lowered the boy to the ground.

Catching his breath, Legolas tore a strip of cloth from his tunic before grabbing his son's hand. He led the boy to the river's edge and dipped the torn cloth into the cool, rippling water. After ringing out the excess liquid, he placed the cloth on his cut cheek, wincing at the slight pain. All the while, Eldarion held his father's arm in a vice-like grip, observing the elf with concern. Looking at the boy with his good eye, Legolas sighed and drew him into gentle hug. The child complied, wrapping his arms as far around the elf as he could manage while resting his head on his heart. The steady beat was comforting to him. As an infant, Legolas had often lain with the boy on his chest when he was fussy, and even now, his son would seek that contact in moments of distress.

Stroking Eldarion's hair with his free hand, the elf broke the silence, "We will rest here for the night."

"Is Papa going to meet us here?" the boy asked softly, gripping the elf tighter.

"I … I don't know, ion-nin," the elf confessed wearily, placing a kiss on his son's head, "We shall wait and see in the morning. Now come."

Being near the river, great rocks were scattered along the bank. Legolas spotted a large boulder that was conveniently surrounded by shrubbery. It wasn't much protection, but it was better than nothing. At least they'd be partially hidden. He beckoned Eldarion to follow and eased his way between the rock and the bushes. Taking off his cloak, his slid down the length of the boulder until he was sitting on the ground and opened up his arms. The boy immediately settled into his father's lap and Legolas removed his bow and quiver, laying it on the ground beside him before wrapping his cloak around both his son and himself.

As his body began to relax, he started to realize just how exhausted he truly was. His legs and feet ached fiercely, adrenalin no longer blocking the pain. The left side of his face was starting to throb and his eye was swelling shut. It took all he had not to cry out in pure frustration. He wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his husband's soft, warm embrace instead of the hard forest floor. But he wouldn't despair – he was alive, his son was alive and with luck, Aragorn was alive too. All that mattered was lasting through the night and making it to safety in the morning. He mindlessly hummed a tune as Eldarion snuggled against him. He gently stroked the boy's cheeks with his knuckles, gazing fondly at the face that so resembled Aragorn's. Within minutes, his son was asleep and he gratefully joined him soon after.


Rueben refused to explain himself further. He figured his revelation was enough to warn the king without actually divulging any particulars of the greater plan. The less Aragorn knew now, the better. Oh, he would know eventually, but only when it was too late to do anything about it. He wanted Aragorn to worry, wanted him to suffer. So, instead of addressing the questions that now plagued the king's visage, Rueben yelled for his companion to get a fire going. With a final grin, he rose from the ground then left Aragorn alone with his thoughts.

Aragorn knew the game that Rueben was trying to play – seemingly revealing everything without actually disclosing anything at all. Someone wanted his son – that much he knew. But why and for how long he knew not and he knew Rueben would say no more. He needed to get away. He needed to get to his son before these men did. If the former Ranger were to make an escape, now would be the opportune moment. The only people left in the camp were Rueben, one of his cronies and himself. He could easily overpower the two if only he were out of his damned restraints.

Casually surveying the area, the king of men looked for a sharp object that could potentially cut through rope. His sword would be ideal, of course, but it was too large and obvious, and its location currently unknown. He needed to do this discreetly, to take these men by surprise. He spotted a jagged piece of rock not too far from his left side. He glanced over at the two men, one of which was arranging sticks on a fire while Rueben watched. The red glow illuminated their faces and casted eerie shadows upon the ground. Slowly, he scooted towards the rock, eyes never leaving the two men. When he was within reach, he subtly slipped the object into his hands, arranging it in his palms so that the others could not see. He tugged his wrists apart, trying to loosen the ties as much as he could to give his hands more mobility. Rueben glanced over at him. Aragorn glared back, nothing in his expression or posture that could give him away. When Rueben turned back to his accomplice, he began sawing the jagged rock along the rope around his hands. Pieces began to fray away slowly but surely. He never lost sight of the two men, stilling his movements whenever they looked his way.

Minutes passed, the bonds were nearly cut when Rueben stood up suddenly. Aragorn paused. The other man stretched in a dramatic fashion before patting his stomach.

"Well, I do believe it's time I caught up on some sleep," Rueben announced, "All this hostage taking and kidnapping business has worn me out. And oh! Would you look at that! A tent is already prepared. Be a shame not to use it. Thellon, take the first watch. Elessar, get some sleep. If you're lucky, you'll get to see your family in the morning. Or at least the boy anyways, if only for a short while."

With a satisfied chuckle, Rueben strode in to the tent. Perfect.

Aragorn eyed Thellon. Though tall and broad of shoulder, he could easily dispose of the man. Plus, he'd have the element of surprise. He'd wait a while, long enough for Rueben to fall asleep, before making his move. When Thellon stared back into the fire, Aragorn sawed the rock more quickly until, with one final stroke, the rope fell in two. Smiling, he remained still and kept his wrists close together. Over the course of several minutes, he gradually maneuvered his bound ankles within closer reach. Then he waited. Thellon stood and twisted his back as if to pop it, giving a mighty yawn. With a final glance at Aragorn, he walked over to the river's edge.

This was his chance. Swiftly and quietly, he reached down and untied the knotted rope. He struggled a moment, for the knot was tight, before his legs were finally free. Holding the rope in his hands, Aragorn decided it was time. He lept up and snuck up behind the unsuspecting man. In one hurried motion, he looped the rope around the man's neck and pulled. With his airway cut off, Thellon could not scream or yell for help. He began to struggle, but Aragorn brought them both to the ground, pulling all the harder. Quiet, choked sounds filled the air and Thellon weakly clawed at the rope on his throat. After what felt like to Aragorn an eternity, the man's movements ceased all together. Cautiously, he released the body. As he stood, he looked down into a pair of bulging, unseeing eyes. One down, one to go.

Heading into the center of the camp, Aragorn scoured the ground for his sword. He saw a reflection in the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw his sword propped up alongside the tent, the dying flames shimmering across the polished blade. He retrieved his weapon, careful of making too much noise and took in a steeling breath. Soundlessly, he pulled back the flap of the tent, frowning down at the poor excuse of a man that continued to doze. Performing the action for the second time that day, Aragorn straddled the unsuspecting brigand, grasping his collar as he was startled awake. He smiled a feral grin at the surprised look in Rueben's eyes and held his blade to the man's throat.

"It's just you and I now, Rueben," the king of men gloated, "I should kill you where you lie, and believe me I much desire it, but as it were, you are of further use to me. So listen carefully, I am going to tie your hands and you are going to join me until I find my family. Then, we shall return to Minis Tirith where you will be arrested and thrown into the dungeons. While you're there, you're going to tell me all you know about this approaching threat, even if I have to torture the information from you myself. Do I make myself clear?"

Rueben glared at him.

"Inescapably so."

"Good, hold out your hands," Aragorn ordered, "Now!"

Once satisfied with the knot, Aragorn jerked the man up and out of the tent. He kept part of the rope long and untied so that he could use it to lead the man and make sure he didn't try to run.

"Keep up."

With a tug of the rope, Aragorn broke into a sprint, heading south. Rueben nearly fell at the sudden jolt but quickly recovered his footing and fell in place slightly behind the determined king.


When his eyes flew open, the one thing he knew was that they were not alone. A second later, he once again heard the sound that had awoken him – voices.

"The footprints become closer together. See here? He must've stopped runnin'. Perhaps they are near."

Legolas started. He didn't recognize the speaker, but it was obvious the stranger was tracking him. Were these the same men who had found their camp? They had to be. But then what did that mean about Aragorn's fate? Had they overcome him?

Gently, and regretfully, the elf shook the sleeping boy in his arms for the second time that night. As sleepy eyes found their focus, Eldarion stared curiously up at his father.

"Eldarion," the elf whispered, "I need you to do as I say. I need you to get up and slowly walk behind me and climb as high as you can up into the nearest tree. Talk to them. Tell them you seek protection. See if they answer. And I need you to stay there. No matter what you hear or what you see happen to me, stay up in that tree. Do you understand me? Will you do this for me, please?"

Legolas knew they couldn't run. The night was shrouded in silence; their footfalls would be too easily heard by the men nearby. He hated the utter fear that plagued his son's eyes at his instructions, but it had to be done.

"I want to stay with you, Ada," the boy whispered tearfully.

Legolas hugged the child tightly and whispered in his ear, "Just do as I say, ion-nin. Do as I say and I'll join you soon after."

"Okay, Ada," the boy conceded.

"That's my brave boy," Legolas said as he pulled away, "Now go!"

As directed, Eldarion pushed away from his father and sprinted to the nearest tree, jumping up to latch onto the lowest branch.

"Please help me," he whispered to it.

Instantly, the tree started to creak and groan, rearranging its limbs to assist the boy's ascent.

"What was that?"

The two men stopped at the noise and stared out into the woods, their torch doing little to pierce through the surrounding darkness. As they began walking towards the direction the sound had come from, Legolas readied his bow. He crouched in the shrubs, searching with his good eye, remaining unseen until one of the two men came into view. Without giving so much as a second thought, he released an arrow, hitting the man square in the chest as he reached in his quiver for another.

At his friend's cry, the other man, the young archer, darted behind the safety of a tree and readied his own bow. As his companion fell to the ground, torch and all, he saw what had killed him. The elf was near. The archer steadied his shaking hands and peered behind the tree. As it did so, an arrow whizzed by his face. Gasping, he dodged behind the tree once more. At least now he knew where the elf was hiding. Taking a deep breath, he reappeared from the cover of the tree and fired his own arrow in the direction where the other had come from. He heard his arrow ricochet off of a hard surface, most likely a rock or tree trunk. And then he heard another small sound. The elf was moving.

Legolas lightly scampered behind a nearby tree after an arrow hit the boulder directly above his head. This human is better than I thought. From what he could hear, the other archer remained in the same spot behind the tree, completely out of sight. They could wait each other out, but that would only last for so long. If he wanted to be rid of this threat as soon as possible, he'd have to make a move. Unwilling to expose himself, Legolas thought how best he could eliminate his target. There was another groan that penetrated the still air. The trees. Of course. Silently, Legolas began climbing up the tree he was hiding behind. As he reached the sturdier branches, he released his hold on the trunk and slowly walked out on a limb. With his superior sight, he could now see the human archer. The man stood, back to the tree, peering over his shoulder for the elf. Legolas aimed and released.

Much like his first victim, the arrow caught the man in his chest. Crying out, he looked up. Thanks to the light of the moon, a figure was silhouetted up in the trees. With the last of his strength, the human notched his own arrow and sent it soaring up into the tree. As he sunk to his knees, he watched with a satisfied sneer as the figure was knocked from the branch. Before succumbing to darkness, the last sounds to fill his ears were a short cry and a loud thump.

Oooo its getting dark! Sorry for the cliffhanger! Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated! :)