Heart of the Dream
by Ithilien




Chapter Six: The Red Stain

He stood over his victim like one standing over a terrible foe and he could feel the demon laughing within him, loving this moment. He could see through eyes that enjoyed finding Legolas in this maimed state and he was simultaneously appalled. All his denials and proud assurances that he could withstand the Ring's doing had been for naught. He could feel a wicked satisfaction for having done this to Legolas and he shivered with the knowledge that this was a part of him. The creature within him did not care that he had hurt.

What have I done?he asked as he saw anew the naked elf. Compassion fought its way forward and he could see the marks from where his hands had kept the other down. He saw the pale color of the elf's skin, those sealed eyes. He saw the shortness in Legolas' breathing. Whereas before it seemed the elf was breathing too quickly, now it seemed he breathed too little. He noticed then that Legolas' hands were clenched into tight fists over his chest.

I have defiled! . . . I have raped!

Recognizing this, Aragorn felt sickened by the realization of his cruel sin. His body was slick with sweat and he smelled of sex. A wave of nausea roiled through him. The physical reminders were vile proof of just what an atrocity he had committed. He felt disgust for the filth he found attributable only to him. He shook as he choked on his repulsion, stumbling backwards though never breaking his eyes away from the elf's sundered body. His steps backed him into a shrub, and as he scraped along its thorny branches, he knew he could not stomach his crime. He turned then, breaking his eyes away from the sight as he emptied his gut, collapsing to the ground. The bile spilled from him, burning his throat as it passed.

On hands and knees he said it, hovering over his sickness like a beast, "Legolas," he sobbed. "No . . . no!" His voice was coarse, grating, like the sound of a rasping bark. The acrid taste left in his mouth was a bitter poison, like that of the spitting toxins of a venomous creature. He was a lowly being, worthy of nothing.

Off-balance and tripping on his feet as if he was unsure how to stand on them, he staggered back to Legolas, knowing he could not flee this moment. His friend was irreparably damaged, and it was his fault. "I am sorry! I am sorry!" he stammered, his voice yet rough. Mortification was striking him like a whip across his back. He was a betrayer, a monster! He bowed his head to his shame.

On a sob, he plucked at the elf with feeble hands, uncertain in his mind how to revive his companion but feeling somehow he must do something. He gently nudged the fair elf but received nothing of a response. And with that he felt his despair grow into panic. What consequences would this have? ". . . Legolas . . ."

He wanted an answer, but the elf did not speak. It seemed Legolas' eyes only sealed tighter with the call of his name and Aragorn felt a howl of this true horror coming to form in his throat. The wail of a wind came to rise, and he thought then to lift his voice and join it. But he did not, for he knew were he to do so he might never stop. He might never regain himself.

Ineptly he shook Legolas with more vigor then, hoping brute force might wake him if sorrow and concern could not. What have I done?

His hands trembled wretchedly as he fumbled again with the elf, noticing now the blue tinge that was shadowing Legolas' lips. The archer's skin seemed to be growing more pale. Shocked and dumbfounded, something almost unreachable in the back of his mind told him to take possession of himself, told him to check the elf's pulse and to do something. For a moment he could not connect those thoughts, the ideas seeming foreign to him, like words spoken in another language.

But then he remembered how this was done, regaining the use of his hands and putting his two fingers to the base of Legolas' throat where he knew a heartbeat could be felt. He did it, though it took even longer for him to realize what benefit such an action might have. But then he remembered that too and began to compare what he knew should have been there with what was. Elves had swifter heartbeats then men under normal circumstances. But here, when he counted, he found the pulse to his own heart far greater than Legolas'. Aragorn's fears doubled then as he realized what was happening and his mind finally found the words to put this to terms.

He is dying . . . He is fading!

Tears filled his eyes for the sheer helplessness of the situation, for he knew a truth few men ever learned. There was a weakness at the core of elves that made them both greater than men, and less simultaneously. So great was their love, so deeply did they feel, that their hearts could not repel the ache of their sorrows and joys. They loved far beyond anything of men -- so far that it was like the heights of an eagle's flight. And at the same time, the depth of their misery was as low as an abyss. That they hid both so well was the most astounding part of them, and Aragorn knew that on the surface one could barely tell the reaches of an elf's heart. And yet, despite their physical strength and superb cunning, elves were vulnerable in that most valuable organ, finding pity and love too easily. They could die if they were too exposed to the pain of hardship and heartbreak. Manipulations and hurts to the soul, something so typical in the dark side of men, could break them. And he knew they only gave their bodies in the act of love alone.

Men were so much different. Men could survive the defilement of rape and scorn by burying their pain and their anger, or even using it to lash out. But elves lost all interest in this world when their souls were marred. Elves could not live with the memories of their hurts. They faded under the agony of their sorrow.

A tear fell from Aragorn's eye then and spattered upon the cheek of his friend. He quickly brushed it away, finding he could not stand the thought of leaving another bit of evidence of his marring existence upon his friend's body. He stroked at Legolas' hair, brushing away the bits of dirt and leaf that had mingled there. He smoothed the skin over the brow, willing away the sorrow that seemed so prevalent, and he bowed his head to something greater than him. He could never meet the quality of the one he had harmed. He knew he had caused this. He knew the act of the rape had done this to his friend. His knowledge of the greater truth overwhelmed him and he wept softly for the bitterness of it. He wondered if now he would be witness to Legolas' death?

Aragorn saw doom eating at the features of Legolas' pained face. He had driven in the blade. He had scored the mighty blow. The monstrous warrior within him had won.

But as he leaned back and collected himself, he knew he must try to do something of healing. The hands of the king . . . Compassion yet lived in his soul. That was something he could hold to and claim as his part. He could use it to banish the monster that yet hovered near.

"Fight this, Legolas! Do not let it take you. You are stronger than this," he said through gritted teeth while he furiously wiped away his own tears.

The elf sighed a deep breath as if he earnestly did try. And then an idea struck Aragorn.

Ironically, it was at this moment that he realized a truth he had not accepted before. This was why Elrond had forbidden the use of galenolas.He knew now the possibilities available to anyone who would choose to abuse it. Elrond's rage at the mention of the herb made sudden sense. Misuse upon an elf could be fatal. The Ring had known this and it had planted the idea of its use long ago. How he had missed something that was so blindingly obvious he did not know. Had the Ring guided his hand in plucking those samples so many days back? Yes. He realized it had.

And with that realization, he came to see that the Ring had also put into his mind the notice paid to Legolas' physical beauty. Was it to ascertain the depth of Aragorn's true feelings for his friend? He held to his heart as he inwardly declared that Legolas was his friend first, even now. But, for his part, he knew there had been more than just friendship to their bond. To deny that now would truly be foolish. He could not have done what he had done were there simply amiable feelings. But in all things, one need not act on feelings. That is, unless the Ring were toying with one's soul. There had been a physical attraction to Legolas on his part, and the Ring had taken that and distorted it to Its advantage.

But It could not claim victory. Not yet. It had accomplished Its goal and had warped his thoughts to manifest these actions. For what purpose he still could not determine, but here in the aftermath he would soon come to see. That is, if he allowed it.

Aragorn sprang to his feet then, suddenly feeling the cold more vigorously as the shock of what had occurred began to settle into his mind. He was a healer, he realized, and he had to tend to this wicked wound. The Ring wanted him to assume a role of control? Very well, he would do so now!

The Ring had put Legolas upon him in this condition, and it had done so in order to expose the weakest point of Aragorn's soul. It had made his friend pliant and weak and willing through the use of this drug, and It had succeeded in coercing Aragorn to act upon his darkest whims. But perhaps the Ring had not considered the opposite side of this manipulation. Perhaps it did not realize that hecould use the galenolas' intoxication to the better good. Perhaps it did not realize hemight do something to take advantage of the situation.

That did not mean that he liked the idea. Truly he felt sickened to realize he would be manipulating his friend yet again. But he also knew he could not let the opportunity pass. He had to do this while the drug was still in his friend's blood, and he did so for the sake of Legolas more than for any other purpose. Bending closer he whispered words softly into the elf's ear, fully aware of what he was doing. Legolas again moaned as Aragorn pressed his hope, praying he might remedy their situation with Legolas' belief in these words.

"Your memory of all of this is nothing but a dream."

He noticed then, as if for the first time. his own state of undress. He fumbled about awkwardly, refastening his stays and grooming himself into his ordinary appearance. And then once done, he focused again on Legolas. He gathered up what he could to make the scene right. Hurriedly, he wiped away what fluids remained on the elf's body with a moistened corner of his dark cloak, noting as he did that there was little blood evident. At least he could give thanks for that. He had hurt, but he had not substantially damaged, though he could hardly claim he had been gentle.

Still, the touch of his hands there, the pain that he had caused, and perhaps the violating memory that was a remnant to this disastrous event caused Legolas to utter a soft cry.

"None of this is real. It is all a nightmare's end," he said again and again. Tears fell from his eyes as he spoke and his voice came out broken and quaking, but he did not stop. "No true harm has come to you," he added as a quivering note, punctuating each pained murmur he caused in his ministering.

All the while, he cleaned the elf with his gentlest touch. And then finding his mending complete, he rose and gathered up the elf's discarded clothing. The spare tunic he used, not bothering with the sodden and mud-stained one, leaving it where it lay. And as he did this, Legolas remained pliant and unmoving. In fact, he seemed too still, and the man suddenly feared the worse. But at the touch of his fingers to that pulse point he found that Legolas' heartbeat was actually stronger, though weaker than it should have been. Aragorn comforted himself in the knowledge that the physical evidence was hidden and his friend appeared to be recovering. That did nothing to quell the man's true worries though. What if these utterances did not work?

His eyes scanned the body before him, assuring himself all was right. Over boots and leggings, tunic and belt, Aragorn checked that all were in place. And then he jumped back as he reached his friend's chest and then face. Legolas was staring at him.

He realized then that the elf was awake. Aragorn gulped on his surprise, but he realized then it was hardly awareness for which the elf had achieved. The archer gazed at him lazily, bleary eyes trailing over the man. Legolas' brow furrowed in dull sorrow and there was a word slowly drawing out from his lips.

"Ar . . . Aragorn . . .?" Legolas began, his voice a slurred sound. His skin seemed so very, very pale.

"I am here," the man eagerly replied, drawing himself up to be near.

"Hurts . . ." the elf said, narrowing his eyes to something that anguished him.

Aragorn's heart stood still. He could taste his own fear.

He spoke in a panic, bending down, his hands hesitating before touching to stroke the lines away from the elf's creased forehead. "No, no. 'Tis nothing. Ignore this trifle ache," he stammered, feeling lost as he looked into Legolas' dull eyes. It was not the same to say these words when his friend could see him, and his confidence was diminished. But he knew he had to remain sure. Hope that the drug's effect was still great enough to influence the elf's perceptions held strong as he looked upon Legolas' bewildered expression.

Tears leaked from Legolas' eyes and the sound of a small sob spilled out with his words. "How . . . you. . . ?" Legolas weakly managed to say, shaking his head slightly to emphasize his confusion.

The words gained power as Aragorn absorbed this horror. He knew what Legolas was asking. But his own stamina came to meet his fear, as if he were fighting a foe. He spoke with more conviction, feeling certain he must hide the real truth from the elf, for he knew the truth could kill. If Legolas accepted the pain, if he accepted his defilement, he would die! "The pain is but that from the fall. That is all," he whispered on a choked sob. He had tried to make his voice steady and sure. He was uncertain though how it had really come out.

The elf stilled slightly. "But you . . . " Legolas began, his brow pinching into uncertainty.

His heart racing in drumming fear, Aragorn countered his true feelings with visible calm. "Minor hurt. Minor ill. All in a dream. Nothing is real," he cooed, softly stroking the worry from his friends forehead.

The archer's eyes glazed, and Aragorn felt a sudden urge to cradle and protect the elf. Legolas' brow softened as he seemed to fall into a spell of believing. "Not real . . . " he half-questioned, half-confirmed. His eyes grew unfocused as he said this.

Aragorn urged him on. "Rest. You are so very tired. This is all a dream..." And indeed the elf's eyelids grew heavy as the man whispered his influence into his friend's ear. Finally Legolas grew still under his sooth. He seemed to sleep.

Aragorn released a trembling breath. Still he spoke, yet hoping the words might find a home in the elf's mind with his continued repetitions. "'Tis a dream. You must believe in me. It is only a dream."

But would that be enough? A subtle voice inside his head spoke.

He would not let me help him when the avalanche occurred and, despite the drug, he resisted me in the moment of our pleasures. Why should I think anything I offer would be enough now? He will resist me again, and I will be left with his blood staining my soul. He is too noble and pure to be held sway to my petty maneuverings.

Too true, and therefore Aragorn could not take for granted that the situation was controlled. The voice grew louder in his head, and he hearkened to its wisdom.

He will die if he comes to know, for I took him without his consent. He would never consent to this, even in a dream. And should he expose me by crying out, all will know. Arwen will know.

Yet how could it be prevented? He knew of no way other than this remedy of untruths to prevent the despicable event from being discovered.

The fact is that there is another way.

He stood back and looked upon the fallen elf. Legolas was completely defenseless in this state, and it was a horrible sight to see. He knew what Legolas should be, and at the heart of the matter, he did not know if that could really be restored.

I could kill him.

Death would silence the elf, and too it would free Legolas from his misery. Indeed that might actually be the merciful thing to do. Aragorn could simply blame the elf's unexplained death upon the fall. He could say it was due to complications. Surely no one who had set out on this perilous journey could expect them all to come out unscathed. Still, an elf would not get up from a fall if he were gravely hurt. Legolas would not die of a minor wound. A lesser fate than death in battle could not be attached to him. Aragorn dismissed the idea immediately, surprised that he could even think it.

But there is yet another way.

Another way? There was something in the way this was put that made the thought worth considering.

If I had the Ring, I could control Legolas' words AND his heart.

He knew he should be appalled, but his mind considered the vision of such a thing.

Should I take It, this Quest would be unnecessary. I could claim my place as Isildur's heir and I would have fulfilled the destiny put upon me. And then I could right Middle-earth and I could see the Ring destroyed on my own terms, when the world in its entirety was made well.

It said much that he would even think this, but the thought was indeed tempting. Not only would he be able to quickly dismiss this incident, thus saving his friend, but he could also take the role he was meant to take. He would have everything. He would have Arwen. But then another voice competed.

"Ultimately she would be unhappy. I could not bear that. It would be dishonest."

Blinking himself out of his stupor, he realized it was his own voice that had spoken aloud this last argument and he realized it was the Ring that had been speaking prior. It had been roaming in his thoughts, attempting to control him. Again.

His anger exploded.

"Is that how you do it?! You manipulate me to the point of desperation?! You force me into a crime and then you woo me with the possibilities you might offer to undo the marring?" he cried out, knowing there was no one for whom to direct his hatred except himself. He wondered how he could not have recognized it before. "That was your plan all along, was it not?"

It was too much, and he felt on the verge of hysterics. He looked down on his hapless victim. Legolas had not reacted in any way to these spiteful shouts. The elf's troubled expression remained, despite this sleep, and Aragorn knew this horrendous crime had been put upon him to make him watch his friend die.

With the Ring I could save him.

What cruelty this was!

He looked out absently over the landscape, wondering what he could do. But he answered outright, knowing one choice he could never take. It was to the Ring that he spoke the biting words. "I will never give in. I will never take You willingly! You may have made something of me that is villainous, but I will be no accomplice to You!" He bent down to Legolas lifting and cradling him as he wanted to before, and he continued to speak. "True it may be; You have left me a criminal, but I will not let that persuade me to seek further sinful influence by You. You will be destroyed! I shall see it done! I am not your pawn!"

But even those words did not free him.

Do not be so sure.

He felt the struggle the Ring made to regain his soul, and he knew the sway was just as great now. His demon was trying to rise to the surface again and thoughts of ending this present situation rolled through his imagination. The Ring was refusing to relinquish him to his own goodness of soul.

It was a battle now, but he held to his heart. As he drew Legolas into his chest, he held onto love. He willed the deepest of his feelings, his truest devotions to the surface, and he kept them there so the Ring could not further harm them.

Again he looked upon the elf, feeling far more compassion for the fading being than ever before. "Legolas," he softly called, almost sobbing, but the elf did not awaken. He checked again the elf's pulse and found it stronger. That encouraged him, but he was nowhere near ready to rejoice. Yet, it was heartening. Perhaps his suggestive prompting had worked. Perhaps Legolas had relegated all to a dream.

And if he has not? He will die, you well know.

Aragorn shook his head, forced again to this issue. What choice had he? The dream he had put into the elf's head was a weak attempt to save. It was tenuous at best. But if Legolas believed it, he might live. And that was more solution than anything else. The truth, which Aragorn would confess if he could, was a fatal route. Still, dealing in dishonesty, Aragorn hated this path. But he saw the truth of speaking forthright was a darker road still.

"Aragorn?"

The man jumped in startled surprise. He had not heard anyone coming, for he had been completely caught up in his dilemma. At the turn of his head he saw Boromir standing on the far side of the clearing.

"Aragorn, what are you doing here?"

The man stiffened, his guilt at being found forcing him to suffer deeper humiliation and fear. He suddenly knew not what to say, gaping at the man, then back at the elf. If he had words he might give, they were lost.

But Boromir's eyes locked onto the elf, paying no heed to the man's inarticulate state. "What has become of Legolas?" he demanded as he quickly stepped forward to kneel before the felled pair.

Aragorn flinched for a moment, afraid that being seen holding the elf would evoke the true defilement put upon his friend. "I -- I cannot rouse him," he lied.

The man's face showed terrible concern. "Legolas?" Boromir called, laying a hand upon the elf's shoulder. There was no answer. "Legolas," he tried again a little louder, and the elf mustered a moan.

Aragorn's heart quickened further just as Boromir gasped. He had not known if Legolas indeed would awaken, and he wondered if the elf's pliable state of mind remained. What if Legolas awoke only to disclose what had occurred?

"Come, Legolas," Boromir urged, softly smiling. "Awake."

Aragorn's heart thundered as Legolas' brow furrowed and the elf stirred to wakefulness. To his great relief, and also his great fears, the elf's eyes came open and he looked about him. He most definitely was not fully conscious then, for he appeared uncertain, blurry-eyed, and Aragorn ventured that his friend might have trouble even recognizing who his companions were.

"Legolas?" Boromir called, looking now upon Aragorn for an explanation of this strange turn in their friend.

And then it seemed Legolas suddenly came to realize his place and time, and he jerked, trying to sit upright. He gasped, jutting a hand out as if a pain permeated his body.

"Ai, you are in pain! Let me help you," Boromir offered, and white-faced Legolas nodded as he again tried to rise.

Boromir and Aragorn both put an arm about to help the elf sit upright. In a whispering soft voice the elf asked, "What . . . ?"

"Tell me you feel no pain," Aragorn commanded, interrupting. It was a test to see if the effect of his words through the drug was still present. He was terrified Boromir would fix on the signs of injury, and that more questions would follow.

"I feel no pain," Legolas complied, his eyes growing momentarily unfocused as he answered.

A soft smile crept over Aragorn's face then, and he felt a small thrill of victory in this. He could do this. He could beat the Ring at its own game. He could cover the misery he had caused.

Then Boromir asked the next question and Aragorn raced to find an answer. "Do you remember what happened, Legolas?"

Aragorn planned his next words then, thinking to dissuade queries beyond the obvious. He told himself he did so to protect Legolas. With compassion, he would say that Legolas had fallen ill and had suffered from the head wound and he would phrase it so that Legolas could agree with every word.

But what poured from him were not words of his choosing. "I will tell you what happened," Aragorn said in a low growl. "He fell asleep during his watch!"

What was this? He flinched away from the words as if they had struck. They had not come out as anything he had intended to say. How cruel he had sounded! And suddenly his plan had gone awry once again. The idea -- to make Legolas think any recollection he might have had was a dream -- was buried beneath the anger in his words. He had never intended to make Legolas feel inept or like a failure in his duty. Blame had no place in the elf's recovery. It only clouded the situation.

Boromir bristled at the slight, easily reading the injustice Aragorn had foisted on their friend. "Have you no compassion?" the Gondor man objected. "He suffered an injury! There is no reason to shame him!".

But Legolas' brow furrowed as if attempting to accept his incompetence in his altered state. "I am sorry," he softly said under the weight of his woe.

Putting a hand to the elf's shoulder Boromir said with sincere concern, "You were hurt, Legolas. That is not your fault. Do you recall? You did not fall asleep on duty, but instead you fell ill. You were found alone here in the wilds."

Aragorn felt humiliated. Boromir's compassion and concern had been what he had wished to convey. Instead he had evoked blame. Why? Why had he been unable to say words that he thought might have helped? Still, in asking these questions, he knew the answer. The Ring still tried to control him.

He willed it away, holding onto his love yet again. Renewed with a caretaker's concern, he looked again at the elf, trying to remedy his scornful words. "Do you think you can rise, Legolas?" he asked, outwardly apprehensive, but trying to show compassion. Dumbly, Legolas nodded, but in the attempt to rise, he winced. Aragorn knew the cause, but Boromir seem to accept the jerkiness in the elf's stiff movements as those caused by a fall. Aragorn came up beside him then, helping Legolas to stand. And then together they took their first stumbling steps. As the path widened they were able to walk three abreast.

The elf paid little attention to either of them now, and Boromir looked to Aragorn. "Legolas' eyes are strange." He paused a moment, as if studying the elf, and then he commented, "Has he been concussed?"

Aragorn shuddered slightly as he considered the question, but then he nodded, for it seemed the easiest explanation for the elf's current behavior. "He should have taken the rest I offered him," Aragorn replied. He could hear the disdain in his own voice though that had never been his intent.

A frown crossed Boromir's lips and Aragorn could see he did not approve Aragorn's foul mood. "I heard shouting," Boromir said, as if reminded this by Aragorn's terse answer. "Were you yelling at Legolas?"

Aragorn felt his cheeks flush, but he knew his excuse had already been given. "I could not get him to wake," he plainly stated.

It seemed it was Boromir's turn to be confused. "But how did you come to find him?"

Ignoring that the elf was between them, Aragorn answered, "He never came on duty. He went to bathe, but never returned." He glanced at Legolas to see if he would be contradicted, but the elf appeared not to notice, his apparent attention focused more on stepping aright than on anything they might say. In fact he leaned so heavily upon both men that Aragorn wondered if he was even aware so much of their presence.

"Why did you not wake me then?" Boromir countered. "You should have informed me that you were leaving the camp in pursuit. I was the next up on watch. Had anything happened to you," he said, nodding at the elf to include him in the statement, "no one would have known where to find you."

Aragorn's mouth tightened into a thin line. Again, he felt his body tense under the question, guilt manifesting in sweating palms and the bilious taste in his throat. But he tried to ignore this, urging their collective steps forward to the camp. The action was a distraction to his quaking limbs, and while he was focused there, his mind was finding a route that he might use to deflect the accusation. A moment later he gave back a sharp reply.

"I did not wander far, and the same might be said for you. Doubtful do I find it that you woke any in our party before you sought meout. And like you, I only came a short way before finding our elf. Such a meager search did not warrant waking others, do you not think?"

Boromir was silenced as this statement obviously rang true. Aragorn smiled inwardly knowing he had struck victory by realizing the make of this man. He and Boromir bore many of the same traits. But he also knew these words came from the darker side of him and he wished he might find a way to give them better sound.

It was then that Legolas spoke. The elf's eyes did not seek them out in his answer, and he only looked directly ahead, but sullenly he said, "I may not be right, but I can yet hear your words. You need not speak as if I were a cur to be talked over."

The challenge in those words frightened Aragorn for he worried that they might be a clue that there was more the elf might say. But before he could counter them with controlling words of his own, Boromir asked the question Aragorn most dreaded. "Do you remember any of what might have happened to you, Legolas?"

Phrased like this, Aragorn feared the answer that might come. He felt a crushing panic fight to surface. The question was direct and could not be routed. The deception was about to be discovered, and he would be unveiled as the monster he truly was. He felt as if he was in a pit and the clouds had covered him over. He had to flee! He had to get away! He was being buried! There was no way out!

The elf's head bowed, and he seemed to grow even heavier in their shared embrace while they continued to walk. His brow appeared to crush into a pained expression, yet he kept his part in their pace. After a moment like this, Legolas' head slowly came up, and again, he did not look to either of them. "I remember . . . " he began, and then he stopped.

Aragorn's heart nearly halted its beating. He felt a great urgency to flee then, like a startled beast. He wanted to hide before he was sought out and hunted.

Dear Valar, how might I redeem myself from this?

But then Legolas continued. His voice was much clearer then, as if he had recovered from the listless hold of the drug. "I remember only going to the stream to clean my tunic. And then nothing else." He stood taller now, but he shivered, as if the words chilled him.

The tremble caught Boromir's notice. Legolas did not wear his cape. "Ah, your cloak, Legolas! We left it behind. Your tunic as well," Boromir commented, and they all halted as if they were collectively trying to decide how to retrieve the missing items. They were at the perimeter of the camp then, with the rest of the Fellowship sleeping soundly before them.

Aragorn took the opportunity. It was his moment of escape. Divesting himself of his own cape, he wrapped it around the elf, as if that might remedy the chill. Legolas was standing on his own, and they were nearly done with their walk, Aragorn did not feel it was that great a load for Boromir alone to help the elf the rest of the way. "I will get Legolas' garments," he announced, but he did not escape quite so easily.

Legolas fixed his gaze upon the man then. It was the first time since their encounter that the elf had really done so, and his eyes were searching. That penetrating quality returned to them just as the effects of the drug seemed to be wearing off and Aragorn felt caught. A strange sort of sadness lay behind them, and weakly did it seem the elf looked into him. But his words said more than that querulous look. "I had a dream, Aragorn. . . . "

It was more a question than a statement, and it seemed that the elf might then speak of his "dream". The idea terrified Aragorn. He was not prepared yet for this. Skilled though he might have appeared to be at this deception, Aragorn was truly inadequate at lies, and the better part of him now wished to escape. He did not think he had it within him to refrain from an outburst of lament or guilt should the elf speak on their shared incident. There was danger in staying in the company of his friend, and he knew he needed to be gone before the monster again came forward and spilled the truth.

He backed away, hands up as if to deflect the words. "I will see to your garments now," he said, and then he was striding quickly, his eyes never turning back as he tried to flee his crime.

But flight could never really be his. A minute later he found himself in the place of his criminal act. The sun shone brightly on the hillock, and though the color of the winter landscape was cool, it was still merry, as if denying anything of ill worth could have occurred on a day such as this. To Aragorn, though, it was but an appearance, the cold of winter unable to be disguised by the folly of the sun. He looked upon the scene, and to him it seemed a disheveled and skewed place of torment. Sullied.

There on the ground lay the cloak, crushed and rumpled, free of blood or bodily stain, but indicative of the wretched act that had been perpetrated upon it nonetheless. Tears suddenly filled his eyes, and infinite regrets filled his chest. He longed to sob out his apologies, a scream of anguish building from within him. But he dared not speak, knowing Boromir had heard him before, and he had no excuse to call out now. He pressed his contrition into his core, knowing he would never be able to release it outwardly. At the same time, he wiped his tears away. It was done. He could not remedy his crime here.

With a jerk, he flicked the cape up and out, shaking the wrinkles and creases free with the one quick motion. Gone was the evidence, and Aragorn consciously noted it with envy for the ease of that motion. How he wished he truly could erase the reality of what had occurred with a simple wave. He yearned to shake his troubles away on the wind.

The fact was that there would be repercussions for his actions. He was sure of it. He just did not know yet what course they might take.

If I took what is rightfully mine, I could save him. There need be no consequences.

"No," Aragorn growled, not even allowing the idea to form into a plan. He recognized the Ring's voice now, and he would not be deceived again.

He turned about and saw the balled up tunic heaped on the ground next to the stream. It had been stepped upon and lay as a sodden lump on the red earth. Aragorn lifted it with fumbling hands, holding it up to the light that he might see the intricacies of the fabric. The elf had succeeded in removing the bloodstain, but by dropping the wet cloth in the dirt, the tunic had been soiled anew. It was no longer clean but now scarred by an injury of a different form. Somehow the evidence left seemed the crueler. Looking at the cloth, the wound appeared centered over the chest. The color was just as rich and deep as had been the blood; but it was also larger, more massively swelling. It covered the body of the garment. Aragorn looked at it for a moment, feeling the gruesome weight of the wound he had inflicted, and try as he might, he could not discern what might be done to heal this ill.

Laying the cape carefully aside, Aragorn took the lighter garment and dipped it again into the stream. Scrubbing the elven cloth against itself, he worked to free the mud from the fabric. Stubbornly, the red hue persisted, fading dramatically as he burnished and distressed the cloth. But it did not fade completely. Like a shadow, it could not be removed.

Tears stung his eyes again and he realized the reminder of his actions would continue despite his efforts to wash them away. Again he felt as if he should run, but pride and recognition of a greater good kept him where he was. It would be painful, but he had to see it through. He would not fall to his weakness again. And with that acceptance came a certain understanding. The stain could not be removed. It could not be removed, but it could be hidden. Contained as an underlayer, it would not be seen. Relegated to a world of dreams, the mark of his actions would not be openly visible either. At least that is where he hoped it might remain.


TBC





A/N:THANK YOU to all the reviewers! This was a really rough week, but your wonderful reviews and critiques brightened it considerably. It spurred me on, and gave me the impetus to complete this chapter despite my foul mood. Yes, the chapter was already written, but I often do re-writes in the week before publishing, and this chapter was ripped apart by my darker side in the interim period. Your reviews helped me to put the pieces back in place. Thank you also to my betas, Lamiel and Elf Lady for their comments on the text before the evil, put-upon, dark-minded Ithilien shredded it. It still somewhatresembles what you saw, doesn't it? ::Ithilien ducks her head knowing Kalima the Copy Editor is going to find dozens of mistakes in this chapter as a result of letting it going unbetaed.::


Reviewer Responses

Jamie- Thank you. That was just the kind of thing I needed to hear this week. I enjoy a psychological drama when I can get my hands on a good angsty one. Big battles and actions need not drive a plot.

Jenolas - Oh, I know what you mean by RL getting in the way. I'm three chapters behind on The Great Escape and am feeling terrible that I haven't had a chance to review it of late. I wrote this whole story as one big long tale, so it doesn't surprise me that you think Chapters 4 and 5 work well together. For ease of publication though, I chose to divvy it up into chapters. Thanks for your review!

Bookworm 303 - I don't send out emails, but I try to update regularly on a weekly schedule. Fridays. Think Fridays. I also SSP at Royal Mirkwood Home, the Yahoo group, but that is the only real place I announce my fics. You, of course, are welcome to join ::grin::. Email me and I'll send you the URL. Thank you for your review and your compliments. You made me smile.

Angharad -And that is exactly enough said to juice me on. Thank you for your review and your continued support.

Erin Lasgalen- Oh my! You are so very, very right on all counts! Very insightful! And thank you for taking the time to write a second review. You made me feel great. To keep this in canon -- which was one of my chief goals in this story -- I knew I needed to explore what happened when an elf was defiled. How does one battle the ultimate heartbreak? I hope I keep that in character too.

Linaeve - Galenasand galenolasare very close in name, but very different in nature. (I forgot that galenas was pipeweed!) I give a little more insight on this drug in the next chapter. It has an interesting past, and a name in Quenya that says much for its true nature. Thank you for your review. You brightened my day.

Pheraearwen - My only regret is that I couldn't tell what was going on in Legolas' head when all this was happening. There is stuff happening there, but hopefully by the story's end it will be clear there is more happening than just the games going on in Aragorn's mind. Thank you for reviewing!

Ja - Thank you! Hopefully by now, you can see what the Ring is trying to do. It's trying to give Aragorn a reason to take it. It knows that power is not a motivation for the man, so why not reach for something else Aragorn may want. But don't forget, it is doing the same thing to other members of the Fellowship too.

Elithraniel - Thank you so much. I always liked that phrase, but I have to admit that I laugh whenever I hear it. I always want to say in answer, "No, Gimli rocks!"

Reader's Digest- Cool name! And thank you so much! I'm incredibly flattered, and glad that I caught your attention enough to follow through. For a new reader, you have good insight on the characters. That's a great starting place for storytelling. For more good reads, check out my Favorites Lists shown on my author page. It is sometimes very difficult to find good stories on the front page, and I usually just go through the network to find what other people consider the best.

Ice Angel 7 - It's a little tedious to do, but I think people enjoy seeing the author's reply. I consider it a way to give something back. Thank you for your compliments. I tried very hard to keep Aragorn's change to the bad an understandable move. I wanted people to believe it and realize there wasn't much chance he could have resisted it. That's not always easy, and no doubt someone skimming along would say he was indeed OOC-ish. But so far, the reviews are good.

Ldyharp -I know exactly what you mean. I hate the repetition of slash story plots. Believe it or not, this story was originally going to be a simple little PWP. Only the concept kept building and building, and I kept self-critiquing and critiquing, telling myself if I was going to do a real story that contained slash moments, it had to be according to the tenets Tolkien established. This is the result. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Thank you for your compliments and review.

Templa Otema- Gosh! Wow! What a review! Thank you! I'm afraid I don't know what to say after all of that except that I tried. I think I've thought through every inch of this story, and I'm glad to see it's paying off. The dreams tie together, of course, and there is yet more to come, but the tragedy is also marvelously complex, and I suppose I am mimicking the plot devices of the classics in that sense. There are no straight lines in this story, and truthfully, I don't care for stories that follow an even path.

Hope - You really blew me away, you know. Thank you SO MUCH! It seems you and I shop for fics the same way. I really wish there were more great ones out there, but I will tell you that when I find them, I share them. Look on my Author page for my Faves, and then follow their Faves, and so on. It's sort of a back page network of Author Recommendations. What I said to Ldyharp above applies to you too. The idea started simple, but grew to something bigger. But really what I need to say is thank you for the thorough analysis. I'm delighted that you 'get it' and I feel like I'm speaking to more than just a few now when I see how much is being read into this. Not to make it sound like my ego is overinflated, but I really did put in an effort toward all of these points, and it moves me to know it was not wasted energy. Gosh, thank you! Thank you thank you thank you! Talk about smiling . . . ::huge grin::

Music2084 -I can't please everyone, I guess, but thank you for your compliment of The Hunting Trip. Yes, to many people's disappointment, this story is exclusively from Aragorn's perspective, but I had hoped that by focusing his attention on Legolas, it might make it appealing to all the Legolas fans out there. Guess not, but that's okay. Thanks for reviewing anyway, and I hope you will like the next story.

Theresa Green - First, congratulations to you on all your Mithril nominations! They are well-deserved. Second, thank you so much for your review. I had a few other reviewers comment on background music for this story. There were lots of minor chords being noted. The music from Jaws might be rather fitting, I suppose. Da-dum. Da-dum.

Nightwing -Oh! FF is rather cruel at times. My FF bot wasn't going off, so there was a day or two when I was really disappointed I wasn't getting any reviews. Imagine my surprise when I logged into the site. The dream . . . it's funny because I almost wasn't going to have the dream sequence in Chapter 3. Now looking back, I think "How could I not?" You know how I like parallels, so I really enjoyed drawing the comparisons between the two events. Actually, there is sort of, kind of, another parallel coming in Chapter 8. All the ends get tied up there. Thank you for wonderful support, and your friendship!

Ithilcalen -Oh no! My first dead reviewer! I've given people whiplash before, driven a few to tears, made some fall off their chair, made one have to take a walk around the block, but I don't think I ever actually killed someone. I hope your family will forgive me. Thanks for reviewing before you met your early demise.

Elsbeth- I had hoped it was original. To be honest, I wasn't sure if this was just old hat. Yes, the repercussions will be great, but hopefully after this chapter, Aragorn will have covered enough of his trail that he can pretend all is fixable. It's just his conscience he has to deal with. Oh, and the humiliation Legolas now feels. Fixable? Yeah, sure. Thank you for reviewing!

Rabbit of Iron -Oh, thank you! The drug is sort of a M-E version of the Date Rape pill. I love your name, btw. And thanks for the extra hug. I really needed it this week.

Laebeth- Thank you for your review. Here's the next update, spurred on by your kind words.

Empath89- And thank you! You have no idea how reviews like this really brightened my week.

Lisette -Well, you survived the really bad stuff, and I'm proud of you for sticking it out. Warm and fuzzy? Well, does it help if I tell you in the end everything veers back on the path Tolkien wrote. Probably not because (no spoilers here) Boromir dies and Frodo and Sam go off on their own. Those weren't happy moments. But I can tell you Aragorn and Legolas do fix this problem. Is that warm and fuzzy enough?

Irena -Oh stop crying! You know you loved it! ::grin:: Thanks for the reviews.

Lamiel - You've been predicting the response and you were so right. Thank you for everything you did to make this story come to life. Yes, I am proud, but I truly could not have done this without you. You deserve as much credit for this as me. As for that part where Legolas is rubbing his cheek into the cloak, I did it for you. I thought it might be just the thing to turn your knees to jelly (turns mine as well). I hope RL settles down for you. It's about to get calmer for me, so I can at last read your latest too.

(no name) -Thank you for your review, whoever you are. (I feel like I was just visited by a ghost.) Pop in any time.

Kel -That's funny. I never really thought of myself as a slash writer, more as a writer using slash. But hey, the review was so nice, I'll not split hairs. I couldn't agree more about Legolas acting the girl in many slash fics. Put him in a dress and he could take over as wife. I hate that. Good slash, to me, accounts for the erotic qualities of a man. I try to imagine what I find appealing and draw on that. Thank you for your wonderful review!

Mer -Oh, yes, I know you from "The Hunting Trip". Thanks for joining me here too. The 'after time' is upon Aragorn, and you can see what he did with it. I'm not sure if I like him very much right now, but I understand why he did what he did. The next chapter will show how he redeems himself. Thank you for reviewing.

BButtercup - Oh, but I do hope you will forgive him. He is going to work very hard to fix this, and (hopefully) we will come to see, the Ring is not just playing with him. The sin is not exactly a one-sided thing. There are many dimensions to the hazard the Ring has created.

IMTrinity - ::grin:: Thank you! I had been holding onto Chapter 5 for quite some time and I was hoping everyone would like it as much as me. It was my favorite, though Chapter 3 and Chapter 8 are also close. Thanks for reviewing.

Joannie -Thank you for coming out of hiding. I really am inspired by your praise, and I am definitely pleased this story is reaching you. You like all the things I do, so it should probably be no surprise. I wish there were more stories that had angst and darkness and h/c. Sadly, there are not that many good ones. But I'll keep trying to bring them.

Leralonde -LOL! "Couldn't Aragorn have lasted longer than that?" Nope. He's a mortal. No staying power there. I'm sure Legolas thought it lasted long enough. Thank you for your review and for brightening my day.

Mercredi -Dreamlike, eh? Yep, dreams are very much at the center of this story ::looks again at the title and sees a connection::. So what do you think of Aragorn's cover up plan? Myself . . . I'm not really liking it, or him, very much at the moment, but I swear he will redeem himself. Lies cannot stay lies, or else, in my mind, he would be OOCish. Let's see what happens to make him come forward with the truth. The ending may surprise a few people.