Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies – not mine, no money, just for fun. First LOTR fic and I'm far from an expert on the subject matter so please be kind.

Thanks to Sarah - I swear that one day I'll understand the usage of commas, semi-colons and colons - until then, thank the Valar I have you!

And thanks so much too to those of you who are reading and special thanks to those who take the time to review. Your support means a LOT to me so thanks again for letting me know you are out there and enjoying!

Chapter 28

A Promise Given

It was only a matter of time, Aragorn supposed. And as if he had been counting the days in his head, when the call came that two riders were at the front gates, Aragorn knew; Thranduil had arrived at last. That there were only two riders meant that somehow Elrond had managed the impossible and kept the Elven king from bringing an army. Now the only question was: which of Legolas' brothers had he brought with him? Two of the three Aragorn knew would be worse than any army. Hopefully the sage and steady Thalion would be the face to greet him.

He was surprised into silence, but into a happy silence when the visitors were announced; Gandalf accompanied the fiery king and Aragorn had never been so relieved to see him, (except for, perhaps, in the forest of Fangorn, when the Istar was supposed to be dead but he had, instead, turned out to be very much alive). The Elven king strode into the courtyard where Aragorn awaited his arrival, his golden hair, so fair it appeared almost white in the bright light of the sun, streaming out behind. His jaw was set; there would be no small talk, but even Aragorn's greeting was brushed aside with an imperial wave of Thranduil's hand.

"Where is my son? I demand to see him now!" The king's hands went to his hips and he planted his feet squarely. Aragorn had to fight a desire to step back. This was not the first time Aragorn found himself on the receiving end of the full weight of Thranduil's overpowering glare; he had made the mistake of being with Legolas once or twice when the Elf was "reunited" with his father after one of his many escapes and it had not been a pleasant experience. But this was not an angry king he faced, not even a father angry with his son for forgoing his responsibilities; this was a father terrified for his son and that was a fearful sight to behold, even to Aragorn who had seen many fearful things in his long life.

Gandalf's hand on the king's shoulder bought Aragorn a moment to regain his composure. The Elven king seemed to be steadied by the wizard's touch.

"King Elessar," Gandalf said, quite formally. "Greetings. It has been a long time."

"It has indeed, and I wish we could be meeting under happier circumstances." Aragorn was not the only one needing to regain composure. Thranduil had recovered sufficiently to give a short sharp bow in Aragorn's direction.

"Yes, King Elessar, I apologize for my manner of arrival. You must understand that I am very anxious to see my son."

"Of course, King Thranduil. That goes without saying." He stepped forward so that the conversation could be hushed and not overheard by the guards surrounding the front gate. "My lord, I am glad you have received my message," he said. "Your son is well; as well as can be expected. Please, we must talk first ere you see him so that you may better understand his condition." Thranduil stiffened, but Aragorn could see Gandalf's hand squeeze the shoulder firmly.

"My friend," the wizard said. "Go with Aragorn and find a quiet place where you can talk. I must see the Lady Arwen, at her father's request." Gandalf slipped his arm around the king's shoulder and urged him forward. Aragorn led them through the city, past the Houses of Healing, stopping to inform Gandalf that Arwen resided within, while not giving any indication to the king that his son too, lay inside, continuing on instead to the Citadel. The gardens seemed a perfect spot for a quiet and undisturbed talk. He directed their path toward the most remote part of the gardens, not once turning to see if the king followed. He chose a spot where a small rock wall, partially built, lined a still dry streambed, giving them a place to sit, out of the sun. It was an incongruous choice; quiet, but for a few trilling birds in the saplings Legolas had planted not long before, rustling leaves in a light breeze, peaceful, relaxing, a complete contrast to the Elven king who had decided to stand instead of sit and presently paced furiously, back and forth. Thranduil was a bundle of tense and taut energy, akin to a crackling sky before a thunderstorm or - a more perfect comparison to Aragorn's mind - a lion waiting the opportunity to seize its prey.

"My son, I wish to see him at once. What you need to say to me can be said on the way there," the Elven king fumed.

"I must make certain though, your lordship, that you understand that your son is still very ill," Aragorn answered calmly. "The snake's venom by rights should have killed him. That it did not is a testament to his remarkable stamina. He cannot be moved, however, not yet. The poison has settled in his blood and any exertion on his part seems to stir it up again so that he has a reoccurrence of its most debilitating effects. He is improving but it is at an excruciatingly slow pace. All we can do is keep him from overdoing it," Aragorn paused, "And keep him safe."

He was certain that last statement would grab the king's interest. It took him a minute, so engrossed was he with taking in and understanding his son's condition, but at last Thranduil's head snapped around and he stopped his pacing.

"What do you mean, safe? Why would my son not be safe?"

Aragorn stood slowly, drawing himself up to his full height, equal to Thranduil's own. "The snake that bit him was placed into his desk on purpose," he said carefully. "And this was not an isolated incident. Someone has been stirring up hatred against Elves in the city in order to try and bring down my rule."

"What?" Thranduil looked truly shocked. The Wood-elves lived lives largely separate from the world of men. But there was no real animosity shown on either part, only an appreciation for the distance and differences between them. The men they encountered tended to treat them with great respect, awe and deference. To be hated, reviled, would indeed be hard to comprehend.

"Yes," Aragorn continued, best to make the whole messy explanation quick, he thought. "Attacks were made on my wife; she was wounded and lost our child." Thranduil's stern features softened at once into a face filled with both horror and sorrow. He stepped forward at once to Aragorn and placed a hand on the other's shoulder.

"I am so very sorry, Estel," he said, using Aragorn's Elven name for the first time in his memory.

"I thank you for your concern. She shall be well, though; she is recovering," he said, amazed that he could speak so calmly, as if he had said that she recovered from a toothache or an upset stomach. He recognized that he had stored his grief away for now and that sometime in his near future he would have to take it out again and deal with it. But now, his body and his mind were already stretched to their limit both physically and emotionally.

"I am relieved to hear that," Thranduil was saying. "My heart grieves for the loss you have had to bear. I have never lost a child-" As if remembering why he was there, his features grew sharp once more. "And I do not wish to do so now. I will remove my son at once from this place and take him back home with me where he will be safe. I wish you had told me; I would have come prepared with a proper contingent. Now I will have to make do as best I can-"

"My lord, please, you must understand that he cannot be moved, not even a short distance. He is still very, very ill. You will see him and you will know the truth of my words."

Thranduil said nothing but Aragorn could see the intelligence in those steel grey eyes. He wasn't afraid that the king would not believe him and thus risk Legolas' life. He would never take that chance. It was the other alternative that worried Aragorn.

"Have you captured those responsible for these attacks?" the king asked, straightening and folding his arms across his chest. Aragorn hesitated. He needed to tell Thranduil the whole truth; the king had a right to know regardless of what would, no doubt, follow after.

"No," he answered, "and there have been other attacks, against myself as well." Again the shocked look. Thranduil had battled orcs and spiders; he had faced the worst kind of evil that Sauron could devise; but never had he had to fight his own people.

"If you have not caught them all, do you at least know who they are?"

"No, I do not." The eyes grew keener and passed swiftly about their surroundings deep in the garden coming back to light on Aragorn's hand where it rested on the sword strapped loosely to his side.

"We whisper here in your gardens like criminals. Do you not trust the men who guard your palace, the people who work here?"

"No, I do not," he answered honestly.

"Then who do you trust to protect my son?"

"I…I protect him. He is like a brother to me and I will let nothing harm him."

"You? All by yourself you protect him?"

"There are people I know and trust beyond a doubt who watch him day and night. He is safe here." Thranduil snorted, an unusual sound coming from an Elf, but certainly a most eloquent expression of his feelings.

"And just how many do you have that you place your faith in?"

Aragorn would have rather not have had that question asked. He tried not to let his voice sound as weary and discouraged as he felt as he answered, "Four. There are four others besides myself." Out of an entire kingdom there were only four people he could trust without reproach.

"Four? Only four of you to protect against-how many? Can you even answer that question? Who watches your wife when you watch my son? Who minds your kingdom? And just how long do you think you can do this for?"

"We will do it as long as we must. It is the only way, your majesty. You cannot remove him from here."

"No, but I can send my own troops to watch after him, Elves. They will keep him safe. You cannot stop me either, from protecting my own son." There it was: the words that Aragorn had been dreading since the king's arrival.

"I beg of you my lord, please do not do that-"

"There is no amount of begging you can do, King of Gondor that will keep me from taking care of my own flesh and blood. One day, I hope you will understand this. Until you do, you will show me where my son is. And you will not get in my way while I do what I must."

"You do not understand-"

"I understand that my son is in danger and I will do whatever is necessary to protect him. You say he is like a brother to you? Then as a brother, you would do the same."

"I am a brother who is also a king. I must also think to my people and try to protect them, as well. If you bring Elven troops here, there might very well be bloodshed."

"And yet, if you cannot guarantee my son's safety and I cannot remove him from this city, then what choice do I have? What would you have me do? This is your realm, not mine, therefore I must leave it up to you – either I take him from here or I protect him with his own kind. I know who I can trust King Elessar, without question. I ask that you decide at once so I can make the proper preparations, one way or the other. Now, please, must I wander your palace searching until I stumble upon Legolas, or will you take me to him?"

Aragorn knew he had lost a battle that going into it, he had had little chance to win. He motioned the Elven king toward the Houses of Healing. They walked along the garden path in silence; Aragorn struggling with this latest crisis. He was not a father, but he wondered, if faced with such a decision, would he choose any differently? Would he be willing to sacrifice his child to save the kingdom of another? He stopped outside of Legolas' room to caution the king again. "He is still very ill, my lord. He tires easily. He will not be able to talk much to you. But you will see that he is alive, and for the most part, well. And every day finds him better, stronger." Thranduil nodded sharply before stepping in front of Aragorn. But he paused; hand on the door, his golden head bowed as if in silent prayer. When he turned at last to face Aragorn his stern features had again softened and Aragorn would have sworn that there were tears in his eyes.

"I know you care for my son," he said softly. "I know you care for him as if he were your own blood, have known it since the first time I met you. I can see in your eyes how you feel about him and I thank you for your friendship. In some ways, you have been more of a brother to him than his own brothers have been. But I ask you to understand. You think I stifle him, smother him; that I do not trust him to care for himself or trust others to do the same. It's just, you see…" He turned his head away as he struggled for his composure, the first time Aragorn had ever seen the mighty king not in command of anything, least of all his emotions. It was - strangely comforting.

"It's just…that I promised his mother," he said softly. Without another word or look, the king pushed open the door and entered the room.

&&&

"I am not dead, Aragorn, merely incapacitated. Please, tell me what is happening with my father," Legolas demanded, trying to muster a stern look, the only thing he could do in his present state. Aragorn dropped heavily into the chair that Thranduil had at long last vacated.

"Do not look at me so; you are not your father, little one. King Thranduil could melt iron with that look; you, on the other hand, make me want to pat your head and pull your blanket up tighter." Legolas, however, merely rolled his eyes at Aragorn's attempt at diversion, gritted his teeth and stayed his course.

"I want to know what is happening. Tell me. Or I will drag myself out of this bed and go find out." Aragorn stared back at the unwavering Elf, feeling weary beyond anything he could remember feeling for a very long time.

"Very well," he said at last, sighing heavily. "He threatens to take you back with him, but understands this cannot be. So his next step is to send his military to protect you since he cannot trust me to do so. And I cannot argue that point. Even I do not know which of my people I can rely on, save the few that sit with you daily. I do not know what to do, Legolas. Elven troops in this city could very well be the start of something that quickly spirals out of my control. In the end, we could do to ourselves that which the enemy failed to do; in the end, we could very well destroy ourselves. Completely." Aragorn leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, allowing for the first time since Legolas had been wounded for his exhaustion to be felt fully and to be seen as well. When he opened them again, he found Legolas' clear blue gaze fixed on his own. There was intelligence in those eyes, shining through the pain and exhaustion that had ,of late, managed to push out everything else. It took Legolas only a few moments to devise a solution.

With laboured words he said, "Sael - you can trust Sael, one of the men who helps me in the garden…you can trust him…to watch out for me. And any men he might name. Trust him, Aragorn. I do. It might be the start of healing, to trust again…" The Elf's eyes flickered closed then, as if thinking of the solution and saying it out loud had taken his last remaining strength. But still he fought on, his voice trembling from the strain as he whispered, "I am sorry to be so much trouble to you."

Aragorn smiled fondly at his friend, wondering, as he had so many times these last weeks, what he would ever do without him. "Trouble?" he chuckled. "My country could be on the brink of a civil war and you call it trouble? Yet, I would expect no less from you, my friend. You have an amazing knack for finding your way into the middle of a catastrophe without even trying." He squeezed Legolas' arm before drawing the blanket up and tucking it around the Elf, thinking of his failed attempt at distraction, spoken only moments before. "Rest easy. I will find Sael and his friends," Aragorn said softly, resisting the urge to pat his friend on the head, wondering what Legolas' reaction would be if he did. But the Elf was already past caring, a slight quirk of his lips the only indication that he was even aware of what Aragorn had said or done. He settled instead for another squeeze of the Elf's arm before saying, with sudden vehemence, "And you will be safe, my friend - ai Elbereth! I will make certain of that!"

He forced himself from his chair and began to pace the room, the only way he could be certain that he would not give into his exhaustion and sleep. He had a promise to keep and he would keep it, no matter the cost.

&&&

The dark library made Nienna's search a struggle. She briefly considered lighting one of the torches that lined the walls but knew that secrecy was of paramount importance. She ran her fingers along the rough spines of books as if she might discover the titles through touch alone. Fortunately, her eyesight was excellent and she did not require such a skill: enough light filtered through the high windows scattered around the room for her to make out what was written there. Her nerves were on edge. She was supposed to be with the queen, not wandering the aisles of the great archives of Minas Tirith, searching endlessly for something-anything-to aid her in her task. She wouldn't have chanced this visit now, except that she had found something of interest in a book she had spirited away the last time that she had made one of these clandestine trips.

She was getting close. Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest while the dust her fingers unsettled during their trek across the spines of the books she searched tickled her nose, making her concentrate hard so as not to sneeze. At last, she found it. The book beneath her hand was unexceptional in every way: the colour of putty; plain lettering on the binding without gilt or flair; frayed edges spelling its age and lack of care. She pulled it carefully from its place and noted that its cover was even less impressive. The title was almost completely obliterated by dust and age cracks in the leather that looked like those in ancient paintings. She carried it to a table in the centre of the room and brushed it carefully with her hand. Yes. This was what she had been seeking.

Her heart beat even more quickly and she at once lost any sense of care or patience, tearing open the cover and flipping quickly through the aged pages. The book fell open on its own to the chapter she wanted. She smoothed her palm hard down the centre, hearing and ignoring the crack of the spine beneath her hand. Yes. This was indeed what she had been seeking, for months now. A smile broke through her normally complacent look. Before she could read the first word however, the main door was torn open and the king himself stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed upon her. Her heart, which had moments before echoed her exhilaration, now seemed to stop beating entirely, as she held her breath.

"Nienna?" His voice proved his surprise; he had not been seeking her. He stopped to speak to someone still at the door. Nienna could see two shadows and deduced that they were guards. She quickly closed the book and with a quick sweep of her hand, sent it hurtling off the table onto the floor while at the same time dragging a chair from beneath the table and pushing it in again to cover the sound of its landing. With her foot, she pushed the book under the closest bookshelf as far as it would go, concealing all but a tiny corner of it. By the time the king had turned back around, she was facing him, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. "What are you doing here," he said as he approached. "You shouldn't be out alone. You know how dangerous it is."

"I am sorry my lord," she answered, bowing her head. "I wanted a book to read and remembered the archives. Please forgive me. I should have asked your permission but you have been so busy and I did not wish to disturb the queen."

"You are welcome to almost any book you might find here; but you must ask the archive master before you take any. There are certain books that are very old and precious that I am certain he would not want removed. Aside from those, I am equally as certain that you would be welcome to any, you need only ask." A tired smile accompanied his words.

"I…thank you, milord. I will be sure to ask in the future," she answered. "Do you know-" She had been so very close to her goal; this might be the very tome she had been seeking for months now, and it sat less than two feet from her clasped hands. But she dared not let this man know what she sought. His eyes softened, encouraging her with a look to complete her question. She dared not. "Thank you milord," she repeated instead and curtsied. "I should return to the queen."

"Your book-" Aragorn approached the table but stopped once he saw that it was empty. "-I thought that you had found one already. My eyes must be playing tricks on me." Nienna remained silent at his side. He brushed a hand across his face, a gesture that spoke of his tiredness. She knew that he hadn't slept properly in weeks. "Yes, we should both return, things being as they are. Wait for me outside with the guards, if you please. I…I am seeking a book on poisons." Once again he turned an exhausted smile in her direction. "I still hope to find something to ease the prince's suffering. He is much improved, but I hope to make him better."

"Yes, milord. May I help you?"

"No, no thank you. It is just an idea I had; but it will probably come to naught. Wait outside. I'll be just a minute."

There was nothing she could do. She turned away and began to walk slowly for the door, the book burning in her mind. So close! It would be found by the archive master now and put back, hopefully. Or given to the king. He would wonder how it got there and then he would remember this night and wonder then why she had pulled it from its place on the shelves and hidden from him that she had done so. Why hadn't she simply spoken of the book? Why had she held her silence and hidden it? He would wonder, but he would not arrive at an answer, and she would have some time to devise one should he ask the question of her. Her steps became faster. She would come again and seek the book now that she knew it existed. She would find it and take the first step toward accomplishing that which she had spent many years now attempting to accomplish; something she had promised to do and would not fail at; the restoration of a soul, a life and the destruction of a king. Her steps became brisker still and a smile settled on her lips.