One week passed and still no one had figured out who was responsible for poisoning Legolas; there hadn't even been any more helpful insights that might lead them down the correct path. Every advisor, Cirion and his poor wife and quiet daughter, the kitchen staff, the servants, and the foreign dignitaries had all been questioned and questioned again. Guards were on every street throughout Minas Tirith and just beyond the walls, listening for suspicious behavior or rumors of a plot against the prince consort. Aragorn had met with Faramir and the advisors each and every day without fail to discuss what was said in the latest round of interrogations as he hoped against hope that one of them might have come across that missing piece of the puzzle that would explain everything. Each time he left the meeting feeling more and more frustrated and helpless.
Aragorn was not alone in feeling that way; the whole situation made an air of uneasiness hang over the city. His advisors were discouraged at their repeated failures to be of any real assistance after the king had finally come to a place where he felt comfortable enough to ask for their help and accept it. The hobbits, Faramir, Eowyn, Thranduil, and Gimli were struggling to bury their horror in order to be supportive to the royal couple. The dignitaries were, for the most part, ready to be sympathetic but the current climate and the fact that suspicion – no matter how vague – was on them made them wary. Rumors were flying all over the levels of the city. The poisoning was a grand scandal that enthralled the people just as much as it appalled them and the enjoyment that they seemed to be getting discussing it amongst themselves made Aragorn quietly seethe. He wouldn't mind so much if any of the opinions they presented had yielded anything relevant, but for all the speculation going on nothing that was really involved with the affair had changed.
Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. One thing had transformed during the past week: the personality of one of the chief characters. Aragorn, seated at the foot of the large bed, looked across his bedchamber to where his husband sat silent and still in from of the window. Legolas had spent an additional night in the Houses of Healing after waking up there in order to have some level of assurance that the poison was truly out of his system. When it was evident that he was no longer in of the healers' constant supervision he was escorted by Aragorn, Thranduil, and Gimli – along with Merry, Pippin, Sam, and a slew of guards – all the way from his bedside there to the royal bedchamber in the citadel. No one wanted to take any unnecessary risks with the would-be assassin still unnamed and on the loose and even the normally independent and stubborn elf had agreed to go along with the extreme measure of protection. That was probably the reason why he'd agreed so easily (and at all) when Aragorn had suggested that it might be best if Legolas kept himself sequestered in the royal quarters until the culprit had been apprehended. Of course, that was before the days of stagnating developments. What they'd both imagined would only be a day or two that was better spent in bed so that Legolas could regain the rest of his strength anyway had quickly mutated into a confinement with no end in sight.
Aragorn wasn't prepared to say that it was still the wrong course of action to take but he was beginning to seriously doubt that the poisoner could cause Legolas a deeper hurt if he tried. For a week he'd watched the very spirit and life of his beloved husband wither before his eyes. Once happy, energetic, and endlessly courageous, Legolas now didn't even bother to get out of that chair to go to bed at night. They both knew why this was happening: Legolas had not been outside, among nature and surrounded by things that grow, for a meaningful time since before the poisoning. That would be a sore blow to anyone but it had managed to cripple the wood elf to the point that Aragorn started to fear that he would just fade away.
"My love," Aragorn attempted to draw him out of his shell, "would you like to attend the council meeting? I supposed it would be safe enough in the hall and you haven't been to one in awhile."
"No thank you," whispered Legolas dully. "The windows in there are so high and narrow. I wouldn't be able to feel the sun on my face. This is the only window that lets the light in and shows me the stars at night; I can ask for nothing more than that right now."
"Perhaps some visitors here, then. Would you like me to see if Eowyn and Rose could bring the children by again?" asked Aragorn, remembering the previous visit almost four days ago. The image of Legolas cradling baby Frodo in his arms as Findowyn and Elanor's convoluted game of make-believe actually coaxed a smile out of him made the Man's heart ache. "I could go over there and bring them back with me right now if you wish."
Legolas didn't even bother to look at him. "Let the children and our friends enjoy themselves without having to worry about keeping me entertained," he sighed. "I'm not good company these days."
"Your father and Gimli will be here at any moment," said Aragorn with a twinge of desperation in his voice. If this continued as it had been Legolas will have totally retreated within himself in a matter of days. Once that happened it might be next to impossible to draw him back out again.
"They don't need to keep coming here," replied Legolas dismally. "I'm safe here. No one and nothing could penetrate these walls of stone. They're all around me, all of the time with no escape…"
A single tear slid down the elf's cheek. Legolas didn't feel it or even notice it but the sight was enough to break Aragorn's soul. Some anonymous monster or monsters had tried to take his life by way of irila poison but they just might succeed in their task though this much slower torture. What had Legolas done to make Eru think he deserved to be deprived of the outdoors that he cherished so much? 'Married me,' thought Aragorn as tears welled up in his own eyes. It wasn't anyone's doing but the would-be assassin, but the king was tired, scared, and feeling quite abandoned by all the forces that once gave him support. 'Became pregnant by me. He gave up not only his immortality but his entire life as he knew it to be with me and I can't even provide him with the safety to enjoy a walk outdoors in peace.'
Aragorn looked away, unable to bear witness to his husband's misery and dispassion toward him any longer. It was as if leagues lay between them and yet not so; Legolas never felt this distant before, not even when Aragorn was a ranger, traveling to places that were as far away from Mirkwood. He might have just blamed it on the poisoning but if he was honest with himself in admitting that the current circumstances were just augmenting something that had started a short time after he and Legolas announced the elf's pregnancy. As the obligations to all of the visiting delegations increased while he stubbornly insisted on running Gondor's political life with only the aid of Faramir, Aragorn had let himself drift farther and farther away from the one he loved. 'Legolas knows how court life is, Legolas understands, Legolas knows why I have to do things this way,' were all of the reasons he'd use to excuse himself of the behavior; and while that was in part true, it had also been terribly selfish. Why should Legolas have to do all of that? Oh, they still loved each other but their relationship – the communication, the togetherness – had been reduced to times of great distress and absolute necessity. His lower lip started to quiver – however unintentional it might have been Aragorn knew that there was no excuse for neglecting Legolas.
A sharp knock rapped on the door. Neither called out a response and didn't have to bother too anyway, for it was only Thranduil and Gimli. The elven king practically resided in that bedchamber those days and the knock was more of a courteous warning that he was coming in than a request to enter. Left to his own devices Gimli probably would have been lightly less forward but wasn't going to quibble with Thranduil about it when Legolas and Aragorn didn't raise any objections. Spending time on such – formalities – was a waste of energy and considering the somber mood that clung to that bedchamber, elf and dwarf decided that the royal couple didn't have any to spare.
The sight that greeted them was enough to break the hearts of Sauron and Saruman themselves. Legolas, sitting in that chair as still as a statue, didn't make any sort of acknowledgement that would tell them that he knew they were there. Aragorn perched at the end of their bed with his back to his husband as he struggled valiantly to keep his tears at bay. It was difficult to tell which one of them had started falling apart first and which one was free-falling after. Maybe they were simultaneously breaking under the strain of the past couple of months. How it happened, however, was not as important as how the situation could be remedies. Thranduil and Gimli had their own functions within the walls of Minas Tirith and it was clear to them that one would be to help the royal couple in this matter.
"Good morning, my Little Greenleaf, Aragorn," Thranduil greeted them in turn with slightly too much cheer in his tone. "What will we be doing today?"
"I – have to m-m-meet with the, the advisors," choked out Aragorn when it became clear that Legolas wasn't going to say anything. "It wo-won't take more than one, one or two – hours and then I-I-I'll be back, I promise," he added, staring forlornly at Legolas and silently pleading for some miniscule sign that he cared if the Man returned or not.
"Well, Legolas," Gimli spoke up, "what should the three of us do while we wait for Aragorn to return?"
"I'm fine here; please don't feel like you have to bother with me," answered Legolas with almost no emotion in his voice. Aragorn covered his face with his hands as a couple of tears escaped.
Thranduil had seen and heard enough. "Nonsense," he scoffed. "But if you will excuse us for a moment, ion nin, Gimli and I must speak with your husband," he added briskly, not bothering to wait for the response that wasn't coming before practically pulling the Man through the doorway into the corridor. "This cannot continue, Aragorn."
"I know, I'm sorry," Aragorn told him while angrily swiping at his treacherous eyes. "I swear I'm going to be strong for him! These tears won't happen again."
"It is not that of which I am speaking," insisted the elf. "He cannot continue to remain in doors for days on end. It is destroying his very being."
"Don't you think I can see that?" Aragorn was aghast. "But whoever tried to kill him and the baby is still out there. If anything were to happen to either one of them…"
"We know, lad," commiserated Gimli.
Aragorn looked at them plaintively. "I'm not holding him against his will," he stressed. "Why is this happening to us? It's my fault that any distance exists between us at all, but I'm trying to protect him now and all of my efforts just make the chasm grow wider. I wish my father was here to give me some counseling."
"You need not look any farther than your heart and your husband for guidance," Thranduil told him. "Legolas asked you a week ago whether or not it was better for his child to starve to death or be poisoned; now I must ask you the same of mine. A green leaf cannot receive nourishment from stone, Aragorn. It will wither away when deprived of the earth, fresh air, and sun."
"But it's so dangerous –"
"I am not suggesting that he run from the citadel at this very moment unaccompanied," Thranduil cut him off. "Of course guards should be with him at all times – but he is a wood elf and he needs to be able to go outside."
Looking tentatively at the closed door that led into the bedchamber that had inadvertently become his husband's prison, Aragorn nodded slowly. "I wouldn't be opposed to making some sort of arraignment," he agreed carefully. "Almost anything would be better for him than this." He gestured toward the door. "After you, sir."
Thranduil took exactly one step before stopping in his tracks. "No," he shook his head. "I believe that it would be best if you were the one who spoke to him about this, Aragorn. This concerns the well being of your husband and your child and I suspect that his compliance in staying indoors is due at least in part to him not wanting you to worry. The love between you two is deep and strong; you can work this out yourselves without me acting as an intermediary."
"I don't think he can hear me anymore," hedged Aragorn. The thought was devastating but it was still easier to deal than finding out that it was true.
He was stunned when Thranduil reached out and gripped both of his shoulders firmly. "You listen to me now because I only have the time to say this once: I have known you and your brothers for a long time and none of you have ever reminded me so much of your father as you have this past week," said the elven king. "Elrond would be so proud to see that you have become the king that he always knew you could be, Aragorn. Now it is time for you to act like the husband that we both believed you were capable of becoming."
Aragorn rested a shaking hand on one of his father-in-law's extended arms. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You don't know how much it means to hear you say that – how much I needed to hear that." Sucking in a deep breath as Thranduil lowered his arms, the Man determinedly walked back into the bedchamber.
The elf and dwarf didn't follow right away. Gimli watched with silent compassion as Thranduil conceded so much of his former role in Legolas' life to Aragorn; now seeing him bit his lip and bow his head made him seek to comfort him. "You made the right decision," he assured him, taking his and entwining their fingers.
"I know," said Thranduil a bit tearfully. "This just – it is not easy, but all I ever wanted is for my son to be happy."
"That's because you're a good father and that's what all good fathers want," responded Gimli as he used his free hand to cover their enjoined ones.
"You speak with great authority on the subject, master dwarf."
"Yes, well," Gimli sputtered, slightly embarrassed. "That laddie is like a son to me. I may not be Legolas' father –"
"Yes you are." Thranduil lowered himself to his knees without pulling free from the dwarf's grasp so he could look into Gimli's eyes on the same level. "Blood is not the determining factor in whether or not someone is someone else's parent. You love Legolas in a way that only a parent could and I do not know what he – or I – would do without you. You have become a member of our family, Gimli, and I thank the Valar each and every day for bringing you into our lives."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Aragorn was kneeling down next to Legolas' chair when Thranduil and Gimli made their way back into the bedchamber. "My love?" he was whispering softly, many times in a row now.
Legolas still didn't stir. 'It is rather difficult to hear what someone is saying when you're on the other side of a chasm,' Aragorn mused dryly. He regretted keeping his distance, even the respectful one that he maintained when Legolas was growing melancholy in his confinement and made it clear that there was nothing he could say that would comfort him. It was time to start bridging that gap. "Legolas?" he tried again, this time resting a hand on the side of the elf's face.
Finally – finally – Legolas turned his head ever so slowly and looked at him. "What is it, Aragorn?" he asked, growing concerned and even more unhappy at the fear that he perceived in his husband's expression. He hadn't seemed like that when – ai Elbereth, when was the last time he'd looked at Aragorn? It couldn't have been as long ago as his depression made it feel and yet he wasn't able to recall seeing his beloved's face for the rise and fall of three suns for certain and most likely more.
Aragorn gave him a small but encouraging smile. "I was just wondering if you'd like to take a walk outdoors or something," he told him.
"If I'd like –" Legolas cut himself off and swallowed hard. "But the person who poisoned me hasn't been caught yet…"
"Which is why I'd feel better if you would endure the protection of some guards when you do so," asserted Aragorn. He felt his mood lightening as hope crept back into Legolas' eyes. "But you aren't happy being cooped up for many days and it breaks my heart to see you this way. There is no reason why my husband and prince consort shouldn't be able to move as he pleases through the realm's chief city – provided that the necessary precautions are heeded."
"That sounds – there are no adequate words for how wonderful that sounds! Thank you for suggesting it, Aragorn." Legolas leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the lips. It was the first time since the poisoning since they'd kissed on the mouth and both were too caught up in that fact, as well as the sensations of feeling and tasting each other now, to get self-conscious about Gimli and Thranduil witnessing it.
"I'd very much like to walk about in my garden," decided Legolas with barely restrained excitement. "That should be safe enough. Gimli, has the perimeter wall been completed?"
On the spot and feeling a little awkward, Gimli cleared his throat. "I don't, ah, rightly know, to tell the truth," he admitted sheepishly. "There's been so much going on elsewhere that I haven't been spending much time at the wall." He squared his shoulders and afresh windof dwarvish pride hit him. "But I'll go there right now and, by Aule, if it's not done yet it will be before the week is out!"
"I'm afraid," said Aragorn as Gimli sprinted out, "that I'll be unable to join you straight away. The advisors' council is meeting soon but I will be free after then. I would enjoy it if you and I could have lunch together, Legolas; just the two of us. We could even make it a picnic under the trees if that's all right with you."
"That sounds perfect to me," replied Legolas and a familiar but long absent glint sparkled in his eye. "But I must insist that you get your own cook. The culinary expertise of Samwise Gamgee is a treasure that one shouldn't be asked to share."
Aragorn was so relieved to hear Legolas teasing him again that he almost wept. "He's probably too distracted to make more than one meal anyway; the kitchen girls find him exceedingly adorable," he responded, choking on sobs as he joked. He stared deeply into Legolas' face and hid none of his emotions. "I miss you so much."
No explanation was needed; Legolas understood what he meant all too well. "I know," he said and Aragorn kissed him again, letting their lips linger together for another moment after it ended. "I feel the same way."
"I'll – I'll send for some guards. Enjoy the rest of the morning and I will see you again as soon as possible." One more kiss and Aragorn headed out of the room, noting Thranduil's faint but approving smile and slight bow as he passed by. There were still a couple of minutes before he was expected at the meeting hall; time enough to pay a visit to the one person who could help him give Legolas a surprise. The idea had just struck him and it seemed like the perfect treat for his wood elf husband.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The change in Legolas as he, Thranduil, and four guards walked outside and toward the garden was nothing short of remarkable. "Ai, Ada," sighed the elf prince happily. "I feel like I can breathe again."
"I am glad to hear it, my Little Greenleaf," smiled Thranduil as he watched Legolas turn his face upwards in order to sufficiently soak in the sunlight. "Please promise me that, should you ever grow despondent like that again, you will be open about how you feel. I know that you did not want to worry Aragorn but seeing you in such as state was just as bad, if not worse, for him."
"I understand that now," Legolas told him and would have said more had an elf not come running toward them.
The guards immediately moved to act as a barrier between this intruder and Gondor's prince consort. The elf made no attempt to breach them, deciding it was probably safer to stand back and shout. "My king!" he called over their shoulders to Thranduil.
"Let him pass," ordered Legolas blithely. "He's my father's butler."
They fell back and Galion was able to pass through. "Mae govannen Prince Legolas, and hannon lle," he said. "Mae govannen, King Thranduil. I apologize for disturbing you, but we've had something of a disagreement between ourselves and the Men of Ithilien."
"Oh bother," scowled Thranduil; his son smirked at that rather Bilbo-like expression. The elves and men coexisted peaceably enough in Ithilien but the occasional clash still occurred. At least they'd all agreed – and managed to stick to it – that when the discord was great enough not that the involved parties couldn't work it out on their own, the leaders would be called upon to work things out in a fair manner. It was too bad for Ithilien's residents that those leaders – Thranduil and Faramir – were currently caught up with matters in Minas Tirith.
"A representative from the Men has gone to speak with Lord Faramir," explained Galion. "I can apprise you of the situation before you meet; it won't take much time at all, considering how well you and the lord understand each other."
"Galion," began Thranduil in a warning tone at the butler's attempt at flatter but Legolas interrupted him. "Go, Ada," he urged. "I have four guards to keep me company and no intention of going anywhere except my garden. You can find me there after you're done tending to the kingly duties you've been neglecting for so long."
"Do not get cheeky," replied Thranduil wryly before letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Very well. I shall see to this matter host haste and meet you there."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
It was perfect; an unexpected opportunity that couldn't have turned out better if it had been planned. The ever-present elf king was actually leaving his son's side, not accompanying him when he went to that garden that the king had indulged him with after they were married. The guards were still there, still hovering, but getting there before them would be all that was needed to get around them. 'Now,' the would-be assassin thought, 'is my chance.' Soon the prince and his child would be dead and all would be made right again.
To be continued…
A/N: The answer is just around the proverbial corner – we're almost there, I swear!