This one's a long one, friends. Hope you brought some snacks.

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Chapter Six

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Only after studying the still man to assure himself that he was indeed dead did Legolas look up into Aragorn's eyes. His mouth was set in a grim line, and yet there were no visible signs of the vicious poison that was eating at the Elf's blood. He looked nearly himself as they stared at each other, stunned.

Finally, and very quietly Legolas said, "Your form was off."

Aragorn's heart twisted in on itself with the surge of love he felt for his friend. It was a warming balm to hear his voice, no matter how inappropriate or ridiculous for a first meeting the words were. He'd missed him. He found himself so overwhelmed – fear, hatred, love, rage – that he could not speak, and it gave Darcyn enough time to be the first to move. When the Elf slowly released the chains he'd been holding; prepared for his follower to free him; the sharp clatter they gave drew Legolas' attention. Aragorn had to fight the urge to wince when the Elf's eyes widened.

The hall, towering and encompassing, sweltered with silence for more moments than the King could count.

"I will kill you." There was nothing to doubt in Legolas' quiet voice. It was hoarse from disuse but still it whispered around the walls with the threat.

Darcyn smiled at him sweetly. "Greetings, Prince. Last time I saw you I had your stunned little face at the end of an arrow. Perhaps you and your loathsome friend should work on form together, yes?"

Aragorn only caught the start of Legolas' movement because of the long years he'd known his friend. He saw the Prince's hand flick out to reach for another arrow; saw the way his body lurched, menacing towards the dark Elf. He finally peeled himself from his frozen state and moved forward, shaking his head and raising his hands frantically. "Legolas, please–"

It was enough to stop his friend. Legolas let the arrow go and stilled, meeting his eyes before looking down at the blood dripping from his fingers. Aragorn felt the faint urge to weep at the agony he could see on Legolas' face now, the closer to him he got. He didn't stop walking until he'd reached the Elf and ignored the heavy weight of Darcyn's presence, wrapping his hand around his friend's arm and leaning in close to him. "I'm so sorry, Legolas. You shouldn't be here."

Legolas ignored the emotion that was undoubtedly on his face, reaching instead to pull up and study his arm. Clearly he was satisfied – it was a flesh wound – and only after dropping his bow so that he could rip a band from his tunic and tie it off to stop the flow of blood did Legolas turn his attention back to the prisoner that sat behind them. "How long have you had him here? What has he done?"

Aragorn closed his eyes, wishing with everything in him that he could whither into the floor. He would rather turn and remove Darcyn's head from his body than try to put into words what had been unleashed on his beloved Elf. From the very first second that Legolas had fallen, eleven days ago, the only thing Aragorn had prayed for was that his friend would wake, please, wake. Now here he was under his hand and it took all of Aragorn's self-control not to simply turn and run from imploring eyes. "I can't tell you like this," he finally said. "Not this way."

For a moment Legolas softened, his eyes focusing completely on his friend as he said quietly in return, "Tell me after, then." And then his voice hardened once more and he pulled away from him, eyes filling with rage. "There were two men outside my room. Dressed as your guards. They spoke of a plot to incapacitate you and take you by way of the Silent Street; spoke of a fair one. Him."

So great was Aragorn's shock that he didn't even have enough time to open his mouth before Legolas stepped around him and was gone. He turned after a moment to follow, close behind his shoulder as they advanced on Darcyn. "Where did they go?" Legolas demanded. "Are they waiting for you there? What will they do when you do not meet them with your prize?"

Darcyn blinked. "You insult me. Do you really believe that I would pay the King a visit in his tower and let everything be thwarted that easily? Legolas, I'm offended."

"You should be dead." Legolas' words were breathless, choked with rage. "How are you here? You were dead."

"A tale for another time," Darcyn said softly, his eyes twinkling.

Aragorn ground his jaw, pressing a hand to Legolas' elbow. "We need to find Elrond," he said and the Prince turned, his own eyes bright with fury he knew they both felt. His friend hesitated only the slightest moment before nodding. As they turned to leave, Darcyn's quiet voice stopped them both.

"Perhaps you should reconsider how you want to end this moment, Elessar. I find it impolite to leave necessary guests in cold chains and cold corridors. Have you already forgotten what you need from me?"

Aragorn swallowed hard, silently willing Darcyn to refrain from saying anything of the poison. He could feel the heavy push of Legolas' confusion and curiosity as he turned his head to dismiss the dark Elf. "We will guise ourselves and approach your men at the Street. Once they're imprisoned we can question them of your full purpose – honestly I do not see much of a reason to keep you alive."

Darcyn's voice did not grow any louder. There was no fear, no intimidation in it. His words were cool, but they were calm. "Careful, Elessar. They do not know."

"I don't believe you."

"Your refusal to be realistic instead of optimistic will be your downfall."

"Downfall?" Legolas scoffed, turning on his heel and halting them once more. "Speaking in riddles does not give you any sort of credit; you still believe you have any power in this place?"

A sinister smile danced at the corner of Darcyn's mouth. "More than you know. I have come with a purpose."

As Legolas moved his eyes pointedly to the dead Easterling lying several feet away, Aragorn could tell that he fought back a primal grin of his own. "In which you have failed."

"You truthfully believe that now all is well."

"This is an entire kingdom of men. You cannot be so naive to think that you can take their King from them. We know where your remaining allies wait for you, and here you are in the chains of Minas Tirith."

"And you?" Darcyn asked quietly.

Aragorn's heart tightened. He could very clearly feel the threat behind the Elf's words; he knew that if he did not speak, Darcyn would. The mask wavered slightly on Legolas' face and the King used the moment of silence to step closer to his friend and take him by the shoulder, turning him away from the Elf wrapped in chains. Just as Legolas met his eyes; nearly just as he was opening his mouth to tell him, to try, Aragorn found himself at an abrupt loss. How could he tell him? How could he tell someone he loved that they were going to die when he could not even come close to accepting it himself? He knew his Elven friend inside and out and he knew that as a warrior, and a royal warrior at that, Legolas had learned long ago to make peace with his death. Even with the ever present, powerful, magnificent pull of the immortality his people possessed, the Elf-prince knew that for many days of his long life he had placed his fate in early hands. Whether it be falling in guarding his home, guarding his friends, fighting in battles, fighting in wars; he fought, long and often, and he fought ready to lay his life down to the unknown chasm that was death.

But this… what Darcyn had unleashed, what he had dared do to the Prince of Greenwood, was cruel. It was demented, and it was unfair, and Aragorn had never hated anyone more than he did the Noldorian Elf during those few moments in the throne hall as cold statues stared down at them in silence. Outside of the palace walls, clouds had floated to block the sun.

"It's poison," Legolas suddenly said. His eyes, though shadowed with pain, were clear and calm as he stared at him.

Aragorn refused to look away even as his heart withered in his chest; clutched to dust by the bitter finality of the words. "As he says."

Legolas' eyes finally closed. "How long?"

"Less than a fortnight," Aragorn said, nearly choking on it. He turned, leveling a violent glare at the Elf that still sat smiling in his chains. "As he says."

Darcyn's smile grew. Aragorn's fingers twitched towards the knife that lay still in sight on the floor.

"I will live long enough to see you executed." Legolas' words were so quiet he could barely hear them. But hear them he did, and he whirled on his friend in horrified shock as the Elf pretended to ignore his presence and added, "If, of course, thus is the will of the King."

"How dare you speak like that," he said through his teeth. "You do not rule fate. There is a cure."

The hollow look in Legolas' eyes did not lighten at the words. He just stared at him. Aragorn felt his throat threaten to close as he turned away and took three steps towards Darcyn, leveling him with a sinister stare as he fleetingly imagined sinking the knife into the Elf's pale neck. "I expect it in my Houses before nightfall."

"You should ask more." Darcyn's voice was enragingly soft, his eyes glinting with a sick light that Aragorn had known in him since that horrible day, all those years ago. The King could not imagine the glee thrumming through the Firstborn's veins as they stared at each other. "Stop threatening to torture me; to wound me into submission. What if I am lying to you, Elessar?"

"It will begin tonight," Aragorn said softly, "if I am not given what I expect to be given. Do you understand?"

Darcyn smiled. "I say to you again, Adan – how do you expect me to do as you ask while I sit in chains?"

Aragorn felt a hand press firmly against his back, centering him a bit amidst his fury. "Patience," Legolas said. "Our contempt will soon replace in you all of the humility you lack. Soon you will not find yourself as amusing as you do now."

"Listen to me." Darcyn's eyes were nearly aglow. "You will be given a choice. When you are given this choice, Elessar, you must choose the white stone. My words may not make sense in your mind yet, but soon they will. Choose the stone."

Aragorn had only ever seen this rage in Legolas' eyes when he'd last been in the presence of this Firstborn. "You are lost, Darcyn. Your body may still walk among us, but your mind has belonged to this evil for far too long. It has consumed you."

Darcyn was unfazed. He glanced over the King's shoulder towards the closed Doors at the end of the hall, impatient now. "Where is your Steward? Does he not round the Citadel?"

"I am done." Aragorn reached again for Legolas' arm. "Come."

"There's no need, Adan," Darcyn quickly said, and the King looked back to see the Elf's eyes glint with joy. "At last. Our friends!"

Aragorn felt a chill run down his spine. He turned as the Great Doors slid open. There stood Faramir, Elrond, the twins, and Arwen. Seeing his wife on her feet sent a shock of joy and relief through his heart but almost instantly he felt it turn sour in his throat. He did not want Arwen in the proximity of the evil that Darcyn had become; that his very being emitted. She seemed to sense this and stepped away from Elrond's supporting arm, her eyes wide and full of fear. "What has he told you?"

"My lord," Faramir sharply said, stepping around her. "A fraction of Elves arrived while we were in council, claiming to be from Rivendell and arriving at your request. Their words reached the guards before ours did. They have been making their way towards the Citadel."

Aragorn's blood ran cold. "Allies from Rivendell would not have reached us yet."

Legolas turned away from the joy that flashed across Darcyn's face at Faramir's declaration, fear of his own shining bright in his eyes when they met the King's. "They are his."

Elladan cried out when he saw the golden haired Elf. "Legolas!"

"No," Aragorn said sharply when both of Elrond's sons lurched towards their friend. Halting, they stared at him, but he was already turning away to direct urgent words at Faramir as his heart pounded in his throat. "They are hostile, Faramir, Joln must be told; they are here to lay siege to the Citadel and must be stopped before they reach this level of the city."

Faramir's eyes were wide, but – as he had ever – he ignored his own terror and obeyed the order of his King. "I've readied the Tower Guard."

"How many are they?" Aragorn sharply asked.

"Sixty at least."

"Go," Aragorn said, "now."

Faramir nodded, turning and sprinting through the Doors, his shouts ringing distantly among the courtyard as he called out to the Gondorian men. Aragorn had only to meet Elladan's eyes and his brother nodded once, his eyes burning with a light like fire as he turned and swiftly followed the Steward.

"They will not have enough time," Legolas said. There was a sick look on his face.

"Indeed they will not," Darcyn said softly. His face was glowing. "Your people die, Elessar. The townsfolk of Gondor mean nothing to me. My kin will not spare your people, no matter how many soldiers they're met with at the end."

"It's hopeless, Darcyn; pointless." Aragorn tried to ignore how hard his heart twisted at the gleeful words. "Your numbers do not equal mine. Please; fall them back."

"They are Elves, Elessar."

"I do not want to fight them. I do not want to fight you. Will you fall them back?"

"Honestly, Adan, most of the people they are likely to be engaging at the moment are not going to fight them at all."

"Sixty. That is all you have."

"Eighty-one."

"I have legions of men in this city."

"And I have legions more at hand." When Aragorn remained silent, Darcyn smiled. "You are not listening. If this fraction does not return it does not deter from what I have in store for you. How much do you love your city, Elessar? How much do you love the streets and the buildings and the funny little people that wander around it all?"

Aragorn knew that had he not held the title of ruler, the title of husband, son, brother, or friend; had he been none of those things, he would have killed the Elf then. Instead he violently forced his mind into the defense of his people; into the front he must make now to meet the group of Elves and take them down before the slaughter of anymore townsfolk. Joln would be near; always he was circling the Citadel since the first two attacks. He knew he must see Arwen safe and find his Steward and chief; hopefully Haythalm as well.

Darcyn looked disappointed when he held his eyes no longer than a moment before turning on his heel, striding away from him; towards those still waiting farther down the hall. Arwen met him halfway and he took one of the hands she held out, pulling it against his face as he turned her to lead her back the way she had come. Her fingers curled in the bottom of his shirt, her voice soft and only for him. "If you can cut them off they'll be easily contained."

He turned his mouth into her hand. "You shouldn't be up," he murmured against her skin, his heart and his mind tearing itself into a million different directions. He met and held Elrond's eyes as they reached the other Elves. "You must go to the cellars."

He did not miss how his wife's eyes glittered with a violent but subdued rage. She was much more feral than most thought of her; dangerous in a way that even he knew he could not match. Her wound enraged her because it disabled her; held her back from who she truly was. He knew she felt a liability now.

"I will see her there myself," Elrond said.

Elrohir pushed out two pale fingers against Aragorn's shoulder. "Straight to the front?"

He felt Arwen tighten her grip around his hand at his words. He squeezed firmly back. "Go with them first?"

Elrohir opened his mouth; Aragorn read the Elf's mind and quickly added, "I am begging you – meet me after there's a secure perimeter between her and the attack. Elrohir."

His brother's eye roll played in his mind even before it played across the Elf's face. Elrohir made a grumble of a reply and Aragorn did his best to smile; he knew it was mangled and hideous. "Thank you."

"Not that it is necessary," Elrond said. "They will never reach the Citadel."

Aragorn's smile had not made it thus far. He could only give a half-hearted nod. It was then he noticed that Legolas hadn't followed him down the hall. His friend still stood by Darcyn's chair; the Prince looked up almost the second he searched for him, but their eyes did not meet. The Elf seemed to be watching something behind them, something at the Doors.

"Legolas," he called. "Come, my friend, we are leaving."

Suddenly Legolas' eyes fastened on his. They were absolutely terrified. He mouthed the word — 'go', and though Aragorn did not understand, he did not hesitate as he took Arwen's hand in one of his and Elrond's arm the other, herding them all quickly back into a door leading off of the throne hall.

"Elessar!"

Everyone froze at the foreign voice. Elrond stepped forward from the shadow of the doorway and looked out into the throne room first. His eyes widened at what he saw, but he reached out and caught Aragorn's arm when the man instantly tried to push past him. "No," the Elf-lord murmured. "Wait."

There was a new man in the hall. He was dressed as a soldier of Gondor, and he was holding a crossbow. This he had aimed at Legolas. Aragorn tried desperately to read the look on Darcyn's face, but even straining as he was to see him, too, the dark-haired Elf remained hidden behind a pillar in the hall. His follower waited until the hall fell silent before speaking again, his low voice lilting with a thick accent and identifying him as a man of the South. "My orders simple. All you leave House. Or I kill him."

Through the haze of terror wrapping him in red, Aragorn was surprised to hear Elrond be the first to speak a vicious reply. "Your entire plan fails if he dies now."

"No words," the Easterling said. "Arrow through heart just quicker than poison." Five beings in the Citadel winced at the words. "And I find joy in spilling witches' blood." He raised the bow to steady his arm and Aragorn could not stop himself from lurching forward again. Elrond's hand held him back. "Leave now."

"Why?" Aragorn demanded. Suddenly Legolas took a step forwards into his view, meeting his eyes. The Elf's hands were raised calmly in front of him and his eyes were black with fear.

"Go," he said.

The Haradrim seemed enraged by Legolas' voice, his hands holding the bow steady even as he stepped forward again and jerked it threateningly towards the Prince. "I count to three," he said. "Third is your strike."

Arwen's hand wrapped around his, her voice firm. "Ask him again."

"One."

"Darcyn," Aragorn did not pull his gaze from Legolas' terrified one as he spoke even more forcefully this time, "what is this?"

Darcyn's voice, disembodied, slithered over his skin like a poison itself. Aragorn's entire body burned; it enraged him that he did not know if he would be shot if he stepped out to face him. "Oh yes I nearly forgot. I want your pet friend. I'll be taking him now."

His blood ran cold. "No."

"Yes." He could hear Darcyn's grin. "You should know that this is an honest man. Well, when prompted to be. He really, truthfully means what he says. Legolas is near arrows for brains."

The Elf was half shouting the words, almost teasingly loud, like this was entirely a joke and they were all entirely too slow. Arwen grabbed his arm with a startling, bruising grip, turning him quickly to face her. Her eyes were full of the same terror he felt but also of the rationality that he needed. "They have the cure. He does not want him dead yet. He says this will be Legolas' murder; the alternative is him alive. We will find him."

He was panicking and he knew it. "It may not be in time. What if he's lying? What if he dies before I–"

"We will find him." Arwen grabbed his face between her hands and waited for him to breathe at least once before saying, more softly, "My most beloved man, this is the reason you are King. You will save your people and we will save our precious friend just in time to help us rebuild. I am so sorry you must let him go now but he will be home again sooner than it feels. Your men need you now. I will see you before the sun falls, Estel. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you," he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. "Arwen, do not find me – I will come to you."

"Always." She kissed him hard before Elrohir led her away. Elrond wrapped the King in one arm before following, his eyes burning just as his son's, full of timeless, unquenchable rage. Aragorn knew the look well and tried to pull as much strength from it as he could. And then suddenly he was alone in the cove, and he nearly could not resist the urge to turn and — run.

Instead he swallowed all the hesitation his rational mind still held and stepped one foot past the threshold of the hall. Neither the Haradrim man nor Legolas had moved. He dared not take another step, but he could clearly see all three of them now, and Legolas' eyes fastened instantly on his. He knew that as he forced a deep breath down his throat his friend was doing exactly the same; they knew the situation they stood in was hopeless, but they had always drawn strength from each other. He tried desperately to focus on that now.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice sounded unrecognizable in his ears. From as if far away.

"Because I want to." When he finally turned to face Darcyn at his deadpan words, the Elf was glaring at him. With malice and with joy. With deprivation and with annoyance. Aragorn could read every emotion in the gaze of his enemy, and his absolute terror continued to choke him as he realized that Darcyn was in his own sick way done with this part of his game. "What I want not is more questions. This man speaks plainly. Leave, Adan. Or leave with a dead friend. Choose."

"Aragorn," Legolas softly said.

Aragorn refused to look at him now. He stared frantically at Darcyn. "I will not stop you – leave him. I know you have a way out and I will make sure that no one follows you. I give you my word. Darcyn."

"I am sorry that your friend seems so clearly intent on witnessing your violent death," Darcyn loudly said, rolling his eyes towards Legolas. "Truthfully I'm not quite ready for your end, but I've been patient thus far and the mortal is refusing to cooperate."

Aragorn could not feel his legs. "Leave him," he said. Cure him, his mind screamed after.

"Aragorn." Legolas said his name more sharply this time, but no less gentle. Aragorn swallowed hard as he finally met the Elf's eyes and felt tears fill his own. "My horribly stubborn friend, I need you to leave now."

"I cannot," he managed to force out.

He watched Legolas' heart break, his brow furrowing with his own fear. "I am sorry. Stop them, Aragorn. Fight swift and smart – I will refuse this poison until you've thwarted everything he has brought to us. He has no idea who he is dealing with." Aragorn's throat burned; he could barely see his friend, but he saw the promising flame that flared to life in his eyes as he said, "Show him."

Aragorn clenched his jaw and forced his shoulders up, ignoring the tears he couldn't see through and the guilt ripping his heart to shreds. "Listen to me. I will find you. I will bring you home."

"I am absolutely thrilled to see if you are right." Darcyn's voice betrayed not a shred of the depraved fury Aragorn knew that he felt. It was astoundingly calm, as had been his expression as he'd watched them speak. "Do not look for us, Adan. I will find you. The next words I speak will be to shoot him in the head. Goodbye Elessar."

Aragorn could not breathe. Legolas was trying admirably hard to keep his sorrow covered by his love as he nodded to him gently, mouthing, 'Fight smart. See you soon. Go.'

And he did. He condemned himself silently as he took four steps backwards into the hall and then turned on his heel, the marble and stone of his Citadel wall blurring past his eyes and replacing the nauseating sight of his friend at the mercy of a crossbow. He made it four steps away from the corner that would lead him out from the throne hall. Four. And then he choked on the nothing his lungs continued to pull in and turned back around, thanking his upbringing for his stealth as he crept silently – utterly silently – back the way he had come, all the way to the door. He could hear their voices before he'd reached them.

"Is it real?"

"As real as I am."

"How did you come by it?"

"What is it with everyone in this place feeling — so very entitled to so very many questions?"

There was a moment of silence. The rattle of metal. Aragorn dared not get closer, but his ears burned for better sound.

"I don't believe you."

"— Believe me?"

"I do not believe you. I don't believe there is a cure. I want you out of this city. I want you out of this realm; I do not care what you do with me but if you truly have a way to leave, I expect you to do it now."

"You have not changed." Darcyn's voice sounded almost fond; a bizarrely out of place moment of tenderness. "You are so very like you were then. Brave. Entitled. Deluded."

"Leave."

More silence, and the sound of scraping metal became much louder. Aragorn held his breath and hesitated only the slightest second before taking the last several steps forward, flattening himself against the wall. Soon the sound of Darcyn's voice came from a new spot in the throne room and it sent an instant, sick jolt up through his chest.

"You look awful. It is a long journey. I am not the most gracious of hosts, however I believe chivalry in this moment benefits us all. Anything else you'd like to add?"

Aragorn could feel a sick feeling rising in the back of this throat as he looked as carefully as he could around the corner. Darcyn was free of his chains now and had joined his man, taking the crossbow from him. Legolas did not move a muscle as he stared them both down, bright-eyed and stone-jawed, even when Darcyn twisted the bow to hold it a different way; a way that Aragorn instantly understood and knew Legolas would understand as well. The dark-haired Elf did not pause nor ready himself; his hands were abrupt as he smashed the side of the heavy weapon against Legolas' head. Instantly his friend crumpled to the ground.

Rage clawed up from Aragorn's chest, choking him as he watched the Easterling bend down and haul Legolas' limp body over one shoulder before striding away. Darcyn swung the crossbow and did not look back as he followed them around the stage of his chair. They disappeared into the shadows, instantly gone, walking a path that Aragorn felt he would never be able to trace.

He turned, and he made it all the way around the corner this time before falling to his knees and vomiting across the ground.

—

TBC