15th December 3018

It was a cold and dreary day in the full chill of winter, skies and earth sodden with rain, when Aragorn finally learned the truth.

Really it was no surprise that it should be the hobbits who were instrumental in bringing it to light. Often they seemed to be as catalysts for dark events, though Aragorn had not at first that day realised what was being put into motion.

It was the third morning since Aragorn had entrusted the shards of Narsil to the care of the smiths and they had, at last, reached the end of their patience and politely chased him from the forges. They had not undertaken work of such import as the reforging of Narsil for many hundreds of years and they were quite insistent that they would concentrate better without Isildur's Heir hovering over them, watching their every move. Reluctantly, Aragorn had left them to their work, and trudged back through the rain to the house. He encountered Glorfindel quite by chance near to the observatory, and the two had walked a while through the upper halls in quiet conversation when all of a sudden they had heard a loud voice ahead, raised and angry. It was unusual for there to be strife in Elrond's house, even when the residents chafed against confinement indoors by poor weather. But it was even more surprising to realise that the voice they could hear belonged to the easy-going and even-tempered Sam Gamgee. In their journey from Bree, Aragorn had seen the faithful gardener scared and suspicious, and angry too, but never to date had he seen Sam brought to shouting except in instances when Frodo was threatened.

More than a little alarmed, Aragorn and Glorfindel glanced at each other then hurried to the edge of the mezzanine, looking down over the rail into the room below.

It was a strange scene, although Frodo was not there, so that concern at least was nullified. Instead, Sam, with Pippin at his back, appeared to be squaring up to a group of four Elves. Aragorn recognised Leithor of the border guard and Banethiel the farrier, as well as Spennathûl of Mirkwood. Behind them, as he should have expected, was Lith, though if he was the subject of the strife at least he seemed unhurt this time.

All of the Elves were looking at Sam who had his fists clenched tight. Lith was behind the others though he was holding his hands out placatingly as he spoke, as if defending the Elves from the hobbit's ire.

'It is alright, Sam,' Lith said, softly. 'There is nothing amiss.'

'But,' Sam said, still looking outraged. 'It's not right, none of it-'

'There is nothing amiss,' Lith repeated, and his tone turned slightly pleading. 'Do not be troubled. Please, go.'

'You should come with us, Lith,' said Pippin, moving closer and beckoning, but the Imladrin guard Leithor quickly stepped between them.

'Do not worry, little masters,' Leithor said earnestly, as if soothing frightened children. 'But it would be best if you kept your distance from that Elf. For your own safety.'

'And maybe it would be best if you minded your own business,' retorted Sam. 'Sir.'

The Elves were momentarily startled and Pippin took advantage of the distraction by darting between Leithor and Banethiel. He took hold of Lith's hand, tugging at it gently. 'Come on, Lith,' Pippin said. 'Come with us now,' and he led Lith away from the other Elves, shooting a poisonous look back at them as they passed.

'That is not wise, little master,' said Leithor. No-one answered, but Sam was still scowling at Spennathûl and the Ñoldor Elves with a look of hurt and betrayal on his face. Aragorn remembered how much the hobbit had longed to meet Elves, and was grieved on Sam's behalf that the reality was not quite so grand and flawless as the tales the hobbit had been told.

Then the Mirkwood Elf Spennathûl spoke up. 'Master Halflings,' she said. 'You should stay away. That one—he is very dangerous.'

'No offense, but that's rubbish,' said Pippin, still holding Lith's hand in his. Lith said nothing.

Spennathûl was not cowed. She pointed at Lith. 'He is Betrayer. Killer. Without redemption. His hands are red with the blood of Elfkind.'

Startled, Pippin let go of Lith's hand though Aragorn doubted that he had meant to.

'We can take care of ourselves,' said Sam, confidently, but there was something in his tone too that had not been there before, a doubt and an uncertainty, and Aragorn hated to hear it.

Lith folded his arms around his middle. 'I do not need rescuing,' he said low, and he turned and walked away from them all down the hall.

''Course not,' muttered Sam, and then he and Pippin were hurrying after Lith. Spennathûl called something after them in the Silvan tongue. Lith's shoulders went tense, but he did not slow and made no reply, and soon he rounded the corner and went out of sight. The hobbits followed. The other Elves watched them go, murmuring amongst themselves. No-one had seen the two observers to the conflict watching from above.

Glorfindel turned back from the rail. Softly to Aragorn he said, 'There are deeds here which have gone too long unaccounted for.'

'I fear the Wood-elves persecution of Lith is getting worse,' Aragorn agreed. 'Emboldened by the lack of condemnation from us or their leader Luinmeord, no doubt. Now Elves of this household join them too.'

'Concerning, yes, but not the deeds of which I was speaking.'

Aragorn frowned. 'You mean Lith, then? His secrets are his own, Glorfindel, as is his past. None of us have lived lives utterly free of blame and guilt. Besides, I have made him a promise that I shall not ask of it.'

'His secrets may be his own, certainly, until they begin to threaten the safety of others,' Glorfindel murmured. 'And as for the safety of the Ringbearer's quest…' He looked back out over the rail, watching the Elves below with a keen glance. They were whispering conspiratorially together, planning some further mischief perhaps.

'Luinmeord is to come with the Fellowship. You think he will not trust Mithrandir as our leader because the wizard has acknowledged Lith as his son?'

'Do I?' the Elf-lord asked, mildly, still watching the Elves below.

'No,' sighed Aragorn, unable to pursue the easier deception, no matter how preferable it seemed. 'You think I shall be at strife with Luinmeord. Because Lith is my friend and I do not believe what they say about him. The fear I have for what will become of him when the rest of us are gone is great indeed.'

Glorfindel gestured down to the two Imladrin Elves in the hall below. 'As for that; those two, I shall deal with,' he said. 'And any others of this household of similar mind. But the Silvans I cannot influence, nor would the outcome be favourable if I were to attempt it.'

Aragorn nodded, troubled. 'I will do what I can,' he said. 'Though I do not know how well it will be received. I will talk with Luinmeord, and learn of what manner and mind he is. You are right that there can be no risk of strife between us, nothing that might distract from our quest.'

'And Lith?' said Glorfindel. 'What will you do about him?'

Aragorn frowned, unhappily. He thought of the words of Spennathûl, the way she had sown her seeds of doubt so neatly in the minds of the hobbits. Lith need never say another word and still he risked losing everything.

'I do not know,' Aragorn said. Below, he saw Leithor, Banethiel and Spennathûl walking away down the hall and out of sight.

Glorfindel was quiet for a moment as they watched the Elves go. 'Aragorn,' he said at last. 'I know that you will do everything in your power to see the Ringbearer succeed in his task once you are on the road to the Fire. But there is work that must be done before the Fellowship departs, and that time is nearly upon you. Lith stands at the centre of a storm made up of secrets and strife, and old, bitter hate. If you cannot find a way through it, I fear for all of us.'

And so it was that in the early evening, Aragorn went to the Healing Halls. It was a time at which the Silvans had made it their habit to visit their injured scout, Andreth, and this day all seven of the Mirkwood envoys were there, clustered around their friend's sick bed. The moment Aragorn came into the hall, their voices went quiet and they all watched the man approach with politely unmoved expressions. Aragorn bowed in greeting and they responded in kind. He noticed that of the visitors only Tinnudoliel still wore a sling and bandages, and even the grievously hurt Andreth was sitting up, bright and alert.

'Good day,' Aragorn greeted them. 'Might I speak with Luinmeord a moment?'

'Of course, my lord,' said Luinmeord, stepping forward from the group.

'There is no need for titles among us,' said Aragorn, 'as I hear you and I will soon be travelling together on a common purpose. But walk with me awhile, if you would? While we have time I would learn a little more of my future companions.'

The Elf gestured wide. 'I would be pleased,' he said.

They left the house and walked beneath one of the covered walkways that led towards the falls, listening to the torrent of the rain all around. Luinmeord, like all his kind, moved without sound or footstep even upon the leaf-strewn stone of the path. Clad as he was in the manner of a simple forester—grey breeches and undershirt beneath a soft jerkin in shades of green and brown—his garb gave little indication of his status, except in the neatness of his presentation and the quality of the fabrics. The symbols of the House of Oropher appeared only at his belt, on the vambraces he had worn at the Council, and subtly woven into the embroidery of vines across his shoulders. The perfect braids in his golden hair told more to those who could read them, proclaiming him an archer, and third of a royal line.

They made light conversation as they walked, and Aragorn's opening questions about Luinmeord's recovery were neatly evaded. He was quite healed from their misadventure in the pass, Luinmeord stated, and no further concern was needed. He was cautious and guarded in his answers, though polite, but with careful questioning Aragorn learned Luinmeord had been to Imladris once before with missives from his father, but otherwise had seldom travelled beyond the borders of the Woodland Realm. In recent years he had commanded a company of archers in the king's guard at the palace. But war was coming to all lands, and soon he would go to the eastern borders of the forest and would take lead of the marchwardens there. Luinmeord offered few further details of the situation in his homeland which was of little surprise. Even here in safety in the land of an ally, the people of Thranduil retained their reticence and isolation. The only subjects on which the young Elf seemed to speak with animation was of his love for his king and of the skills of the archers of Mirkwood, both subjects for which he clearly bore much pride and admiration. Aragorn did not think it an unfounded claim when Luinmeord calmly stated that he was the most skilled amongst the king's warriors, and one of the best archers in the realm—the archers of tMirkwood were known to be beyond compare, and not given to idle boasting. Such skill would no doubt be of benefit to the Company of the Ringbearer.

In turn, Luinmeord pressed Aragorn further about the quest, and the ring. He seemed a little bemused by the hobbits, and beyond stating that he had heard tell of one who had travelled before through the Woodland Realm before, had little more to say of them. Instead he wondered about the road the Fellowship would take to the fire, of the stirrings of war in all land, and of the part the kingdoms of men might play in the defense against Sauron. They talked long of the dangers in the mountain passes, of Gondor and the stewardship, of the fall of Osgiliath. Luinmeord mentioned Thranduil thrice, and his father Caranalder several times. It was not easy to gain a sense of another in so short a time, but Aragorn came to see that Luinmeord was of serious disposition, diligent in his duty, and bore great devotion to his king and his family, and loved his homeland dearly. He craved not adventure, nor travel, but Aragorn found no reason to doubt that he would do as he had promised, and would aid the Fellowship at least across the mountain passes.

Even as he strived in vain to learn Luinmeord for his own self, It was difficult for Aragorn not to compare him to Lith. Truly the physical similarities between the kinsmen were many; their height and build, the shape of the jaw and the cheekbones, the curve of the brows and the angle of the nose all had much in common. Even their voices were of the same hue, thought Luinmeord's accent was stronger; it had not had the chance to fade. Aragorn thought Lith was perhaps a little taller and slighter, Luinmeord's hair a richer gold, but far greater divergence was found in their natures. Luinmeord was serious and restrained, his words and his attention were strictly controlled, his movements tight and economical. He chose each word with a statesman's care. Lith, by comparison, seemed now a mass of erratic, half-formed motion and wild instincts. His speech came as a flood of words or not at all, his hands fluttered at each thought, his head turned after birds and deer and the fall of leaves. He looked to the clouds and the sky and sang to the trees below his breath like he was not even aware that he did so. Luinmeord was all control. Lith had none at all.

They had reached the council pavilion on the high cliffs above the falls when Aragorn raised the subject which had long been on his mind.

'Luinmeord. I would be frank with you. Seeking your company was not the only reason I came to see you this day.'

The Elf paused, looking a little wary. 'Speak, I pray,' he said.

'I would that we talked of Lith.'

Luinmeord went still and his face turned cold and unfriendly. 'It is not permitted to speak of the Bodadêldir.'

'I know, and I do not wish to contravene your customs, nor meddle in the affairs of your people-'

'Then feel free not to do so.'

'Nevertheless,' Aragorn said, firmly. 'The presence of you both here is a happenstance which cannot be ignored. There are none present to know of what we speak, so I ask you at least to listen to what I say.'

Luinmeord said nothing but he did not walk away.

'I know as the heir of the Prince Regent you have much authority amongst your people,' Aragorn said. 'And I would be remiss if I did not take this opportunity to intercede on behalf of one I have come to consider a friend.'

'What is it that you want?' the Elf asked, flatly.

'In a few weeks you and I shall be gone from this place, and I cannot say if either of us will return. Your captain and the others of your company will remain however, for there is no way home for them until the passes clear in the spring. You know too that the Elf Lith will remain here also, for Lord Elrond has given him leave to reside in this land as long as he wishes.'

'I have heard as such,' Luinmeord said. 'I petitioned Lord Elrond against it, but he did not heed my request nor my warnings against his character.'

Aragorn did not rise to that but forged on. 'Several times that I know of your people have sought out Lith to hound him with insults, and one of those confrontations culminated in physical harm.'

Though his face remained impassive, there was a brief flicker of something in Luinmeord's eyes that looked almost like surprise. Was it possible he had not known of the actions of Iorthon, Spennathûl and the others?

'Though such an assault might be deemed a breach of the good conduct which Lord Elrond asked of you, I do not seek explanation nor reparation for the transgression,' Aragorn pressed on, 'It has passed. Instead I ask only that when you and I depart this place, you place strictures upon your people against further abuses. Lith has done nothing to warrant this ongoing maltreatment.'

'He has done nothing, you say?' Luinmeord said, shortly. 'I disagree. He has contravened the oath of his banishment, and every day he remains within this land compounds upon his trespass.'

'And yet Lord Elrond has given him leave to stay,' Aragorn said. 'And as a guest and patient of this house he has a right to reside here in peace, without persecution. Lith accepts his guilt and status as a Bodadêldir, and he has abided unquestioningly by the terms of his punishment until now. He was much loath to come to Imladris; indeed he would not have done so had he not felt my life to be at risk. Lith has committed no crime in this land, nor has he done anything to warrant further condemnation beyond that which he already suffers.'

Luinmeord remained unmoved by Aragorn's plea. He stood firm with arms folded and stared steadily at the man. Aragorn sighed.

'Or, if you will not be moved by compassion,' he said. 'Consider doing as I ask out of respect for the friendship which I hope shall grow between you and I, for I gave Lith my word that he should be safe from harm here and I would not see that word broken.'

Luinmeord said nothing for a moment, and then he shifted, lowering his arms to his sides. 'I will do as you ask,' he said at last. 'I will talk to my people. None of them shall speak to the Bodadêldir again, nor do harm unto him if I command it. You seem an honourable man, Aragorn, and I would not see your promise contravened by our actions. It shall be done.'

'I thank you,' said Aragorn. It had not been the result he had hoped for, but it was a compromise he knew he would have to accept. 'I know that Lith's presence here is a burden on you.'

'It is an insult,' muttered Luinmeord.

'I must admit, I am puzzled,' said Aragorn, as they left the pavilion and started to walk once more. 'And I beg you not to take my question amiss. But it is said the folk of Thranduil are fair-minded and honourable. Cautious yes, but quick to laugh and to love, and fiercely loyal to tradition, and to kin and kith. Is that a fair assessment?'

'We have had little cause for laughter of late,' said Luinmeord. 'But yes, you list traits that we Wood-elves hold dear. Courage, fortitude and family.'

'Then, forgive me, but how is it that Lith remains so beyond mercy in your eyes? Is there no path to redemption for him, no matter how long he has suffered, or how often he proves his courage and fortitude?'

'No.' Luinmeord said, shortly. 'There is no absolution for a Bodadêldir. Or at least, not for him.'

'But why? I do not understand.'

'Because he has revealed himself to be the antithesis of all that you just stated we hold dear. You could not understand.'

'I have learned who Lith was before he was cast out.' Aragorn said, at last, not knowing if it was wise or foolish to do so. He had been hoping for something from this conversation, some sign that Luinmeord was wavering in his steadfast rejection of Lith, a hint of mercy, of compassion. Perhaps, in his darker thoughts, he even hoped for an instinct that Luinmeord was deceiving him, was somehow complicit in Lith's fall from grace, in the terrible events that had led them here. They were so similar, after all; could Lith have been mistaken for Luinmeord...? But there was nothing in Luinmeord's words to suggest falsehood, nothing but righteous anger and a long, slow grief.

'I know who he was,' Aragorn continued. 'Lith was your father's brother. Your family. Still you would see him cast friendless into the wild without a second thought; you must know how close he has come to self-destruction. It has been seventy years. Will he never be forgiven?' And then Aragorn asked the one question that burned him more than all others. 'What if he is innocent?'

'Innocent?' Luinmeord laughed suddenly, wild and bitter. 'As if we would have declared him Bodadêldir were there any hint of doubt. No, his guilt is beyond question. For there was a witness to his crime, and one I must trust above all others.'

'Who?'

Luinmeord tilted his head and his mouth twisted sadly, not enough to be a smile. 'Who do you think, Lord Aragorn? It was I. And you would speak to me of him, and call us family? You want to know why I can never forgive him for what he did? You ask him about family. You ask him.'

The twisting, writhing doubt birthed by Luinmeord's words slunk around in Aragorn's thoughts for the rest of the evening and far into the night. At last, inevitably, the stain of its poison worked its way into his dreams even as he slept, like a maggot burrowing into the core of an apple. Aragorn lay within a tent upon a wooden bed. Night was full about him and no lantern was lit, and in the shadows at the foot of the bed he saw a shape. A dark shape, it was, carved from deeper darkness, though limmed with a glimmer of ash and pale gold. It drifted closer. He could not move or breathe and yet closer the figure came, a hollow darkness above the bed where he slept. The face could scarcely be seen but for a hint of shadow, thought he knew it was Lith. The Elf leaned over Aragorn and his visage was blank and empty, eyes coal black in their sockets. Lith raised a withered, ghoulish hand, and a blade flashed down like lightning and pierced into Aragorn's heart.

Aragorn gasped, bracing for the agony but it did not come; the dream juddered and shifted, the world contorted as the canvas became sky, the tent poles grew up into trees all around. The ground rolled and lifted into hillslope. Lith was kneeling on the leaf litter before a hobbit; another lay beside them, sleeping. Lith sighed, and looked down at the standing hobbit; Aragorn saw it was Pippin, pale and wide-eyed and trusting. This is a shameful thing, Lith said, and then he leaned forward and slit Pippin's throat. The hobbit collapsed beside Merry. He was already dead.

No! Aragorn cried but the dream had twisted again; the hobbits were gone, and the trees, and there was nothing but the cry of orcs, the stench of blood and slaughter. Many dead orcs lay around, and there was Boromir amongst them. He was pierced by many bolts, skin grey and blood flecked, open eyes clouded and turned unseeing up to the sky. Lith came up beside him. His face was blanker than the corpse at his feet when lowered his crossbow.

The dream shattered and fell apart. Aragorn heard a voice cry, restrain him, now, before he kills someone! and he thought it was Gimli. Mithrandir fell burning like a shooting star, Arwen breathed out her last on a green hillside, and Elladan and Elrohir were swept beneath a black tide. Halbarad was hewn apart by axes even as he lay dying. Rivendell burned, and Lorien, and Minas Tirith was nothing but ash.

Beneath a tree, Lith choked on the end of a rope while a crowd looked on and jeered.

Enough, said Elrond's voice, sternly, and Aragorn awoke, gasping, with tears on his face.

Lith was in Gandalf's study when Aragorn found him, lying on his belly on the floor. Mithrandir was not there and the Elf was watching a little brown mouse nibbling on crumbs of bread scattered on the boards. Lith looked up as Aragorn entered, and somehow, just from the look on Aragorn's face, he knew. He picked up the mouse in his cupped hands and he stood up.

'You promised you would never ask me,' Lith said.

'I know,' Aragorn said, low. He came in and closed the door. 'I know, and at the time I said so I meant it with all my heart. I wish, more than anything, that your past had no bearing on the present, on our friendship and on all that is to come. But I find that it does. I cannot come to understand Luinmeord; I cannot even speak with him without the shadow of this secret hanging over us. How will I ever trust in his judgement while I am sure that he persecutes you unfairly? Gandalf is content to lead him and says he will not let his love for you come between them, but while there is still doubt in my mind I do not know how to put it aside.

'I have had dreams, Lith. Dark dreams, full of horror and death, and you are there at the heart of it. I do not know what that means. Perhaps they are just dreams, for still I do not believe that you could commit such a crime as it is said. I fear that one day I will hear the tale of it from any other and their impression will cloud the retelling and I shall never know the truth of it. So I break my promise, and I ask you to forgive me. Will you not tell me what happened? I know that you have a courageous and compassionate heart, and there must have been some accident, or mistake which led to this verdict of guilt, whatever Luinmeord says he saw. And if there was some injustice done to you, if you were blamed somehow for the crimes of another, I would help you fight that even now, if I-'

'No,' interrupted Lith. Then he swallowed and looked down. In his palms the mouse quivered. 'No,' he said again. 'There was no injustice. You must not think it.'

Aragorn lowered his head. 'I am sorry,' he said. 'I understand that you do not wish to speak of this. But the time is coming soon where we may not see each other again. I would not have you bear this alone for all eternity.'

Lith said nothing for a long time, and then, at last, he moved. He walked over to the window and he tipped the little mouse out of his cupped hand onto the sill. The mouse sniffed at the rain, unimpressed, but then it scurried away out of sight. Lith watched it go, and then he turned back to Aragorn. His back was very straight and his chin up, and though his expression looked for all the world like one facing the hangman, there was an echo again in that posture of the heir of kings he had once been. Lith met Aragorn's eye, bravely, unflinchingly.

'I would not have you continue to hold the misconception that I am the one who was wronged,' he said, 'or that I have somehow been mistreated. I have never wished to deceive you and if somehow I did then I am sorry. There has been no injustice. If we are never to meet again, I would have you at least know the truth, Aragorn, for ever have I given you reason to doubt me and never have you done so. As you have asked now, I will do what honour I can by giving you that reason, ensuring you will never need to seek for another. And please, be assured I shall expect no mercy from you after you hear it. You need not pretend.'

He looked down for a moment, and then dragged his gaze back, shamed, as if forcing himself to meet his friend's gaze was part of his penance. His back was very straight.

'The exile placed upon me was due punishment for two crimes. Kinslaying, and treason. Until I came here I have never broken the word of my bond of exile, for the charges of the crime set to me are both true and accurate. I do not dispute them.'

'Treason?'

'The victim of my crime, you see. I…' he swallowed.

'Who was the victim?'

'The king of the Woodland Realm.'

Aragorn gaped. Whatever he had been expecting, it was not that. 'The king…? But Lith, Thranduil is your father . '

Lith flinched and went pale. 'Not anymore. It is fair to say that I forfeited that privilege.'

'But for you to turn your hand against Thranduil, to cause him injury…' Aragorn argued, still unable to accept what he had heard. 'It must have been an accident. I cannot believe you would harm him intentionally, or anyone.'

'I stabbed him eleven times in the back, they say,' Lith replied flatly, almost coldly. 'The intention of that seems quite beyond dispute.'

'Sweet Elbereth,' Aragorn murmured. He had to turn away for a moment, to school his face and his thoughts. He thought he had been prepared for anything, but this had still been a horror he had not pictured. Then, a moment's realisation. 'But Lith, Thranduil yet lives.'

'He does,' Lith agreed. 'My aim was quite poor. The blade damaged his lungs, severed part of his spinal cord. He did not die but I hear that he has never recovered.'

Lith's tone as he spoke that damning confession was bland and unemotional, and his face seemed as masked and closed-up as when they had first met, as if all the warmth and bonds of fellowship that had slowly grown between them since was a sham. But Aragorn knew better now, and all that he had done in these last weeks to find the Elf enclosed within his shell of fear and isolation had not been for nought. Aragorn could see now that the cold of Lith's demeanor was hiding deep pain, eating away at the guilt and quiet sadness that clung to him always like dew. There was no hint of malice in Lith's eyes, but what was writ there was truth. Every word Lith spoke was true.

'Caranalder acts as regent now,' Lith continued as if there had been no pause. 'Mithrandir says he is a good leader to o- to his people.'

'I will not believe that you raised a hand against your own father in malice,' Aragorn said, shaken. 'I cannot. Until I hear the reason for it from your own mouth. I know you, Lith; I know what Gandalf and Elrond say of you. I have seen you risk your life for others, I have witnessed your kindness and generosity of spirit. I know there is nothing malicious in you.'

'Then you are a fool,' Lith snapped, suddenly, 'if you do not believe every person has the capacity for darkness in them. I am not a good person; that is the truth you will not accept. I am a killer, in intent if not result; the fact that I failed even in that act means nothing.' The Elf was moonlight-pale like a statue of cold marble, but even as Aragorn watched his proud posture shrank and he turned his head away as shame had finally overwhelmed him. He turned suddenly and looked towards the window, and Aragorn knew he was moments from flight. Aragorn caught his arm.

'Wait,' Aragorn said, low. 'Wait, Lith. Please. You may be right that all of us could be capable of such ill deeds. But there are those who will readily turn to violence, and there are others who must be driven to such desperate acts only by the worst of circumstances. I know you are not the former. Will you not tell me what happened?'

Lith pulled away. He said nothing for a long while and then, rather suddenly, he folded up and sat down on the floor against the wall as if all the strength had gone out of him. Long gone was the cold dignity of a few moments before, as if his old pride had carried him through the greatest burden of his confession but would carry him no further. Beneath the perpetual tangle of his hair, his expression now was almost longing. It was clear he did want to rid himself of this festering, ugly secret, to be relieved of bearing its sole burden. And now Aragorn had forced a crack in the dam of his secrets, the flood water behind would not easily be contained. Aragorn waited in silence for the levee to break.

'It is...difficult,' Lith said at last, his words low. 'I have never spoken of this before.'

'Never?'

Lith shook his head.

'Surely there was an investigation? You must have spoken at the trial after, when the truth of the events was being determined.' Aragorn said.

'I do not think so,' said Lith, matter-of-factly.

'You have truly spoken of this to none?'

Lith looked at Aragorn, flatly. 'It is forbidden to speak of it,' he said. 'I should not speak of it, even to you. I should not…'

'But if you have talked to none, how did it come to be that you were judged guilty?' Aragorn asked, trying to keep the Elf's mind distracted before the old mantra of fear stole this moment of truth away from them again. 'How could any know your actions or intentions that day, or judge why you acted as you did if none before has sought your testament of events?'

Then Aragorn recalled the Elf's phrasing from a moment before. I stabbed him eleven times in the back, they say.

'You do not remember what happened,' he realised aloud.

'A little,' said Lith, after a hesitation. 'I have not tried too. I have been content not to remember.'

'Then try now,' said Aragorn. Sensing Lith did not want his proximity now, he sat down against the opposite wall, mirror images separated by the space of the room. 'You will never find peace if you do not confront this, even in your mind. I know you are afraid, my friend, but just like with your arm, holding onto those old wounds will only prolong your suffering to no good end. Cleanse the wound in your heart by lancing this poisonous secrecy.'

Lith drew his knees up to his chin. He did not look up at Aragorn and he did not speak, but neither did he turn away or try to flee. Though they sat apart, Aragorn felt as if they stood side by side on the edge of towering sea cliffs while the winds howled around them, tearing at their clothes and hair, buffeting them towards the brink, and if they went over the edge he could not say if they would fall or fly.

'I remember…' said Lith, so soft it was almost a whisper. Then he fell silent. After a long moment, he raised his head and grimaced. 'When I try to look back it is like there are two differing worlds inside me that are ever in conflict. There are moments that I do not remember at all, nothing but blankness. There are things I told myself, comforting lies, and there are truths which cannot be real. Events that are shaped one way or another, or that I know I understood wrongly. I do not know what I remember.' His gaze was far away.

'What is the first image you see in your mind when you look back?' Aragorn said, softly.

'I...I stood before a throne, and it was empty.' Lith said, haltingly. 'There were weeping faces in the crowd.'

'When did this happen?'

'I do not know,' Lith said, and then seemed to change his mind. 'It was spring, I think.'

'After the dragon fell? After the battle?'

Lith nodded, and Aragorn added, 'Bilbo told us he remembered you imprisoned.'

'Was I?' Lith said, vaguely.

'When the Company of Thorin Oakenshield were held in the king's dungeons. You were locked in another cell. He said he spoke with you.'

'I do not recall,' Lith said, without much concern. 'It was nothing unusual. I was often out of favour with the king.'

'Why?'

Lith lay his head on his knees. 'I have never been skilled,' he said. 'I did what I could to make amends for the defects in my character, but there is little talent in me either for skill-at-arms or speechcraft and leadership. Often I fell short of what was required of me.'

Quietly, Aragorn said, 'I have heard that the king was not kind to you when he drank, and that he drank often.'

This time the response was absolute silence, so Aragorn asked a different question.

'You told me before that you went with Thranduil's army to Erebor.'

'Yes,' Lith said. 'My company...we were sent to support the king's archers. I saw the ruin of Esgaroth. The stench of dragonfire and the smoke of the town as it burned spread for many miles. I could smell their flesh burning halfway from the forest edge. Out on the water the fires raged night after night, like a beacon in the dark. We went amongst the refugees. I saw the bloated and burned bodies as they washed ashore…'

He trailed off into silence.

'And then the Dwarves came from the Iron Hills, did they not? And the orcs after?' Aragorn prompted, carefully. 'I have read that it was a very great and terrible conflict.'

'We were surrounded. There was nothing we could do but fight. It was...' Lith shook his head slowly and his voice had turned distant and imprecise, like he had fallen into a waking dream. 'Many fell there, many hundred of our folk. I stood with Luinmeord and the archers even as we were overrun by the wolves. We fought but it was not enough. Many died before the eagles came.'

Like the last time he had spoken of it, Lith's account of the Battle of Five Armies was sparse, but Aragorn was familiar enough with the history to make sense of Lith's words, for he had studied accounts of many battles, and this one not least. The Wood-elves had not come to wage war that day. Hearing of the dragon's demise and thinking Thorin Oakenshield and his company slain, Thranduil had gone to claim a treasure, not battle for one. They had few horses and were ill-prepared to fight in the open, for the strength of Wood-elves was in skirmishes beneath the trees, not in open war. The lines of their spears had barely held out against the wargs, and the Elven host wore not maille or helm except the king and the elite swordsmen of his guard. It was reported that many Elves, perhaps as many as one-fifth, perished upon the field. Aragorn had seen Lith fight just once against the wolf, but even from that small action it was clear he did not lack experience, for he had talent with knife, sword and bow, and he even had the skills to make his own weapons. Though counted young amongst their people, there was no doubt that Elves such as Luinmeord and Legolas Greenleaf would have spent much of their lives as scouts and archers, launching strike attacks against roving orc bands and spiders beneath the trees of Mirkwood. Just as in the lands of men to the south, it made sense that the young amongst the Elves would be trained in warrior's arts, and far from being exempt, those of royal blood were probably tasked even more heavily with such duties than their fellows, and would perhaps have been swiftly elevated to positions of leadership such as that Luinmeord now held. But border defences and lightning skirmishes were far from open war, and produced few casualties. The fight for Erebor was probably the first major battle they had ever seen, one they could scarce have been prepared to meet. It must have been terrible.

'I heard that many Elves were slain,' Aragorn said, quietly. A realisation was starting to form in his mind, and he added, 'It is said that King Thranduil received there his injury.'

'No,' murmured Lith. 'I was near the king. He stood tall to the end.'

'And after?' Aragorn said.

'After…' repeated Lith. Aragorn waited.

'Time passed,' Lith said, at last. 'We went home. Many were dead, or wounded. We had not enough marchwardens left to patrol the southern border. There were shortages ...The king was generous; he sent many supplies to help the lake-men. The winter was very hard. Many suffered.'

Lith stopped, and then after a moment continued, his voice softer, almost trance-like. 'I remember that spring had come, at last. The trees were coming to bud and the snows were melting. I thought the worst was over. But the king was very angry with me. I had done something, I forget what. Another disobedience, another failure on my part. But this was worse than usual for Caranalder was away. That always made it worse. I had failed in some duty, forsaken the king's orders. I was insolent, disobedient to my lord. I was to be punished. I do not know what happened but then I knew I was on the ground. I...I tried to look up to see the king, but there was blood in my eyes, my head was swimming. He was so tall and...

'Luinmeord…The king sent soldiers to bring Luinmeord. I was afraid, I was so afraid that Luinmeord would be punished too, even though I had never seen the king strike any other than me before. He turned away. I do not know what happened. I was standing up, I had my knife in my hand. I remember the feel as the blade punctured through the cloth and cut the skin beneath into the flesh. I dream about it, sometimes. I do not know if he cried out. I do not know if guards came; they must have come for then I was in a cell in the dungeons and I think I was surprised that the blood on my hands was red and not the black blood of orcs.

'Elves came to spit at me and curse me through the bars. They told me the king was dead at first, and then that he was not. Caranalder came at last. He said Luinmeord and the guards had found us. He said the healers could do little and the king would die or sail to the West. I never saw the king or Luinmeord again. I stood bound before the throne, and it was empty. Many voices shouted all around but I could not speak, I could not speak. A bell was sounding inside my head, over and over, too loud for words. They took me back to the dungeons and said I was dead now, dead to all Elves. Thus was the king's command. Someone said he was driven mad with pain and grief at my treachery, but they hushed her. It was very cold. They cut my face and my arm over and over for months until the scars took. Faroth did the work, he was one of the king's guards I had known since infancy. He wept as he did it, each and every time. I thought that so strange.

'I remember travelling for many days. My eyes were covered and they would not let me see my forest. I heard the horses beside me, before me. Someone was weeping again. We went far, very far, and it was cold and then it grew warm again. They cut me free and told me I could never come back. I walked away. I walked and I walked. I do not remember if I ever saw another Elf, I was alone for a long time. There were few trees, and the lands were bare and the sun hot. I slept and I fought, I toiled. I stole, sometimes, when there was no work. I walked and I walked and at last it was cooler and I found trees again, old trees, singing trees, and they welcomed me. I found the Onodrim. Then Mithrandir came. That is all I remember. Please, that is all I remember.'

'Lith…' said Aragorn, but he had no more words to say. His very soul felt harrowed. Lith was weeping softly, though he did not even seem aware of the tears. Aragorn went to him and sat beside him and pulled the Elf in close, and they stayed like that for a long time.

TBC...