Aragorn's Sorrow
By EmptyWord

Author's Notes: Sorry, sorry, sorry!! I've taken half a year to update, I can't believe it myself! It won't ever take this long again, I promise! But thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and particularly to those who took the extra time to email me and urge me to update. It means a lot.

I realize that Glorfindel would also have had golden hair, but I'd clean forgotten about that, so this will have to do.

Lastly, Fearing is pronounced Fey-ring. (You'll know what I'm talking about once you read this chapter)

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings is the property of John Ronald Reuel Tolkein, Christopher Tolkein, Allen & Unwin, Ballantine Books, Houghton-Mifflin, and innumerable others. My name does not appear anywhere on the list. No monetary profit is intended in the writing of this story.

"I do not own LOTR; it owns me." I kind of forgot who said something like this, but in any case, it doesn't belong to me. I just thought it fit: I'm more than obsessed. I'm possessed.


Chapter Eight: A Murderer

Swift as the eagle snatching its prey, Legolas grabbed the dagger from its deadly path. A sharp pain seared his fingers, but he ignored it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted a golden-haired Elf disappearing around a corner.

"Legolas?"

The Elf prince looked back at his friend. Aragorn and Arwen had separated, though they still held hands, and both gazed at him in concern.

"Aragorn, what color of hair did you say Heled have?"

Aragorn frowned. "Golden. Why?"

Legolas made sure to keep the dagger behind his back. He shrugged nonchalantly. "I was wondering. He is the only one here with golden hair?"

The ranger nodded, frown still in place.

"Very well. I'll leave you two to your reunion then." Legolas smirked and was about to walk off when he seemed to reconsider something and said quietly, "Watch your back, Aragorn." Then he left.

Aragorn stared after him.

"Estel?" whispered a soft voice at his side.

Turning, he smiled, banishing any more dark thoughts he might have had. "I'm sure Legolas can explain my unexpected return to Elrond. Meanwhile, would you care for a walk, my lady?"

"I would care for nothing else, my lord," she answered, gray eyes shimmering with the inward light that had named her Evenstar.


"Legolas!"

Elrond stood quickly and embraced the Elf in the doorway. "What brings you here unannounced?"

"Concern for you, of course, my lord," Legolas answered with a grin. "My father worried you were growing too lazy and fat in your safe, cozy home here. He appointed me to drag you out and duel him."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, but his eyes were twinkling. "Does he seek a humiliating defeat then?" A sudden smile transformed his face, lightening his usually serious expression. "I'm disappointed in you, Legolas. An elfling could come up with something better than that."

Legolas looked horrified. "You insult me, my lord! How dare you compare my ingenious mind to that of a mere infant's?"

"I didn't; I said you were worse."

A fleeting smile, then, "Knowing this, you will forgive this uncultured mind for crushing your rare smile and dredging up worry again?"

As quickly as that, as Legolas had sadly known, Elrond's habitual mask of gravity reappeared. His dark eyes sobered and returned to their piercing state. "Worry for what?" The master of Rivendell studied Legolas carefully and noticed something he did not quite like. "Perhaps your bloodied sleeve, Legolas?"

Slight chagrin crossed the other's sylvan features. He revealed the dagger still in his wounded hand. "I did not mean to tell you this immediately, but I see now that you won't be placated without knowing the cause for this dagger. No, no, I am fine. It is a small wound, of no import." He brushed off Elrond's concern and continued, "You will not like this news, I'm afraid, and frankly, neither would I."

Elrond nodded, waiting.

With a humorless smile, Legolas said, "I suspect you have a would-be murderer in your house, my lord."

The Elf-lord was quiet, and no evidence of surprise or denial was apparent in his serene expression. His unwavering gaze remained on the bloody dagger, as if he could perceive the entire story simply by looking at the weapon. Finally, he spoke, "And who do you propose this 'would-be murderer' is, to be so foolish as to disturb the peace of Elrond's house?"

"I cannot be certain, but...do I have leave to voice my suspicions?"

Elrond cast a wry look at his friend. "When do you ever need my leave to do anything, you unruly rascal?"

A grin bloomed on Legolas' lips, but it as gone quickly. "It would not seem unlikely, I should think, that Heled would seek revenge on Aragorn."

The Elf-lord's eyes narrowed. "Elucidate, please. Has Aragorn returned? If so, whatever has he done to provoke Heled to such extremes? And how, if I may ask, do you know Heled?"

As Legolas explained of Aragorn's return and reunion with Arwen, Elrond's expression changed from one of doubt to one of disbelieving joy and, finally, to one of worry.

There was a hiatus in their discourse as Elrond reined in his happiness for Aragorn and Arwen and mulled over the rest of what Legolas had told him.

"So," Elrond said at length, "you think Heled was also witness to their reunion and, overcome with jealousy, threw a dagger to kill Aragorn."

"From what Aragorn has told me, they were never friends."

"No, Heled always seemed to hate Aragorn," Elrond affirmed, "but to say he is your 'would-be murderer' remains an assumption."

Legolas agreed, but it did not make him any less suspicious of Heled or troubled by the thought of the Elf. "Yet, it could not hurt to have him watched from now on."

The lord of Rivendell eyed Legolas grimly. "Very well. Tail him to your heart's content."


Legolas did not miss an opportunity to do what he said he would do. Indeed, he spent most of the rest of the day watching Heled from the shadows or from around corners. However, he always did so with the utmost caution, careful not to let Heled catch a glimpse of him.

Which was why Legolas was taken aback when Heled marched up to him that evening and demanded why he was following him.

Recovering his equilibrium almost immediately, Legolas opted for an innocent smile that didn't look at all innocent. "Following you?" he murmured in false surprise. "Forgive me if it seemed so, but I have not had the slightest intention of following you. We must have been heading for the same places today," he added unconvincingly.

Heled's glare would have melted iron. "If you expect me to believe that lie, you must think me the most gullible fool here!"

"Gullible, I doubt; but fool, most definitely," Legolas quipped with a wink.

The golden-haired one reached out swiftly and gripped Legolas's wrist hard. "You stuck-up bastard! You think you can get anything you want, swaggering about with your high and mighty attitude!" He leaned in close then, eyes wild and smoldering; his voice dropped to a menacing hiss. "You may not remember me, prince of Mirkwood, but I warn you, I still owe you a lot from years past and I need only the slightest provocation to return your favors."

Heled stepped back, saying, "Lay off of me, or there will be blood again." With a smirk, he whirled away.

Legolas let him go, watching him with narrowed eyes. The truth was, he did remember this Elf now, might not have if Heled hadn't confronted him, but since he had gotten a good look at the smooth, beautiful features and blazing eyes, he'd recognized Heled. He finally understood the reason for that annoying caution sign he'd felt when he'd heard of Aragorn's situation, and he didn't like it.

There'd once been an elf at Mirkwood with those same features and eyes. His name hadn't been Heled of course but Eredhel Fearing.

Actually, Legolas didn't really remember his name. No one ever really knew it in the first place. Eredhel Fearing was a nickname the common folk had given him, for he was always alone, without any companions, and he was cold of spirit, or so it was said.

Eredhel Fearing had been around Legolas' age, perhaps a little younger. Legolas remembered seeing him a few times, always in the deepest woods, wandering about aimlessly. His golden hair shone like a flame beneath the leaves, casting a shimmering glow over the rustling undergrowth. He was beautiful, even among elves. He had a willowy figure, tall and slim in stature, with deceivingly slender arms and legs. His skin was unnaturally pale, yet somehow appeared ethereal, even more beautiful than those hale from the sun. His facial features were delicately chiseled, bestowed with a unique beauty and grace. So unique, it seemed, that no one dared to befriend him.

There had been one occasion when Legolas approached him in the woods. It was midwinter and the day was cold, the sun barely managing to pierce the trees. There was a council being held that day, one council among many in that dark time, and Legolas had been excused from the tedium. He'd gladly avoided the gathering and chosen to take a peaceful stroll in the woods, ignoring the chilly air. Who could have imagined he would encounter the lone elf there, in the heart of winter? As Legolas got closer, he saw with surprise that Eredhel was staring at the trunk of an elm, unmoving. He'd called out to the elf, greeting him.

"What brings you here, Eredhel? Why do you walk in the cold when there are warm hearths within?"

Eredhel refused to look at him. "Why do you, my prince?"

Legolas slanted a surprised look at the other. "I have been busy these days. I needed some peace."

"Am I not allowed to seek peace as well?" Eredhel turned then, raising his gaze to meet Legolas'. Legolas would have gasped if he had been any less experienced. Eredhel's features were beautiful, surely enough, but it was his eyes that captured attention. They were burning blue coals of cold fire, flashing in wild untamed fury, alike to the sizzling instant when hot iron recently taken from the forge is dunked into cold water. Just as the water bubbles and the iron spews out smoke and flame, so his eyes blazed.

Legolas collected his wits, conscious now of the danger in this solitary elf. "What matter is it, Eredhel, that you would need peace from?"

Eredhel released a short laugh and turned back to the elm. A slow smile of deranged glee curled into his lips.

Legolas followed his gaze. Engraved on the trunk of the tree were two pictures. The first was of Eredhel's parents lying on the ground with an unmistakable puddle of blood pooled around them. The second was of an elf-maiden in sheer agony, with blood spattered over her torn and bruised body.

The Elf-prince looked back at Eredhel with shocked horror. There was no doubt in his mind that the elf had carven the two images, just as there was no doubt in his mind that Eredhel was insane.

A few days later, Legolas was present in his father's glittering hall when the horrifying news was brought before King Thranduil. There had been three deaths.

When Legolas saw the corpses of Eredhel's parents and the mutilated body of the elf-maiden upon the elm tree, he'd immediately delivered evidence against Eredhel and shown his father the elm tree. No one doubted the elf-prince. When Eredhel attempted to excuse himself, saying his parents deserved to die, he was met with opprobrium. There had been no slaying of elves by elves since the Kin-Slaying at the Swan Havens, and everyone cried out for his death. King Thranduil refused to have anymore elf-slayings, though, and Eredhel was banished from Mirkwood forever and would be killed if he ever returned.

A too light punishment, it seemed now, if Eredhel could be left free to wander into other lands and raise trouble there.

He needed to do something to stop the elf, Legolas knew, but what?


"Look at the stars," Arwen whispered, gaze tilted reverently to the skies. "I cannot imagine a more beautiful world. Iluvatar has truly made the night into a beauty even the day cannot compare with."

"There is only one star, one beauty, I care to look at," Aragorn murmured in return, tightening his arms around her.

She smiled and turned to face him. "I am so glad you returned, Estel. I have worried for so many days, years, you cannot imagine."

"I won't ever leave you again, Arwen, ever! We will ride back to Gondor tomorrow, if you want, and get married there." His eyes deepened with a sudden, glorious light and shined into hers with unconditional love and joy. "We're getting married, Arwen!"

Arwen laughed in delight, matching his happiness perfectly. She reached out and touched the Evenstar necklace around Aragorn's neck and whispered, "A promise kept." Smiling, she laid her head against his shoulder. That was when she saw it, the elm tree.

Aragorn frowned, feeling the sudden tension in her body. "Arwen? What is it?" He turned to the tree she was staring at but could not find anything unusual.

"Look closer," Arwen said softly, her own eyes closed, squeezed shut in fact. "What do you see?"

Aragorn bent closer and stiffened. There, on the bark of the tree was carven the image of two mutilated bodies, with a huge, ugly slash ripping through both. One was Arwen's, the other was his own.


It's getting closer to the end now. I'm so excited, I'm nearly finished! This will be the first time I actually finished a story (well, one with chapters anyhow).

I was watching this Chinese movie and there's a guy in it who looks like the Chinese version of Legolas! (or maybe I just have terrible perception...)

Thanks for reading!