It didn't take long for Beren to figure out that there was nothing else of value that Lord Malvegil could tell him. After ordering the noble to wait in the Council meeting hall in case the king returned and wanted to speak with him some more, the guard had organized the three Men that King Elessar had ordered to stay behind with him while the rest rode off to the rescue of the prince and princesses into two groups. He sent off the most experienced one of them (behind himself, of course) off with the second-to-youngest one to question Lord Eärnil's wife; he then took Eldacar, the youngest of the lot, off with him to have a little chat with the wife of Lord Tanondor.

Eldacar, frustrated that he had to remain in the city while almost all of his colleagues got to be off on the mission that was closest to all of their hearts, had started twitching as soon as everyone else had stormed out of Prince Eldarion's bedchamber. It was one time too many for Beren when he twitched once more as they finally approached the home of the suspected Lord. "Do not do that again," warned the senior guard, his dark undertones almost covering up his irritation.

"Do what?" asked Eldacar distractedly. He wasn't trying to be sullen or cheeky – he really wasn't aware of how restless he was acting. In fact, he wasn't aware of much of anything except his own worry about the fate of his brave crown prince and sweet little princesses.

"Don't stir about and twitch like you've got something better to do that we're holding you back from," snapped Beren. He usually wasn't so short, especially when he could understand where the other Man was coming from, but he knew the importance of the task at hand and he would be damned if his colleague was going to try to dismiss that. "You are a guard of the citadel who has been entrusted by the king of Gondor to carry out this task and I won't tolerate you acting as if you've got something better to do with your time."

"I am proud to be able to do whatever I can to help my king and prince in a way that they deem fit," replied Eldacar through gritted teeth, trying to keep from yelling at Beren. "But I can't help wanting to be one of the ones who are hurrying to the children right now. I've been a guard of the royal family since right before Prince Legolas became pregnant with the twins –"

"And I stood guard over him immediately after he was attacked by Lady Nienor when he was pregnant with Prince Eldarion," Beren cut him off, silently daring the younger guard to compare his love for the children against his. "Yet I am not behaving like an ill-mannered brat because I can't be where I want to be."

Clenching his fists tightly Eldacar willed himself to relax. "I apologize," he said profusely. "I just don't understand what we could possibly find out from the lady that would be of any help right now."

"We can't dismiss any possibility, especially when we have the manpower available to explore them," explained Beren tensely as the pair began to ascend the short staircase that led to the main doors of the nobleman's estate. "One bit of knowledge gained here might do the prince and princesses more good in the long run than one hundred of the finest warriors of Gondor chasing after them now."

Eldacar managed to give him a wry half-smile as Beren straightened his back and shoulders before knocking insistently on the doors. "That is probably true," the young Man conceded, "but then again, I wasn't the only one of us who's been twitching. I was just polite enough not to mention it earlier."

Beren opened his mouth to shoot back a witty retort but all words died on his tongue when a noise coming from inside caught his attention. Thinking that he might have just imagined it he placed a finger against his lips to warn Eldacar to be quiet and pressed his ear against the doors. There is was again! It sounded as if someone was shuffling around on the other side. Quickly he drew his head back so he wouldn't fall when the doors were opened but several seconds passed without anyone answering the knock. When he pressed his ear against them again, Beren couldn't hear anything.

The older guard looked at his counterpart, who nodded slowly and grasped the hilt of the sword that hung on his belt. Glaring at the pieces of wood standing between him and whoever was trying to bar him from carrying out the king's instructions as if his will alone was powerful enough to shatter them Beren pounded on the doors with all of his might. "Open at once in the name of King Elessar Telcontar of Gondor!" he ordered with a bellow.

Again there was shuffling and again they were not permitted to enter. Steam was practically coming out of Beren's ears; Eldacar looked at him uneasily, wondering if it would be considered improper to move away a little lest the older Man literally explode. "I said open up in the name of your king and mine!" screamed Beren.

"We can hear you," added Eldacar in disgust. "It would be better for you and everyone else if you made the choice to grant us entry."

"I" – a young voice called tentatively from inside. "I'm not supposed to let anyone in. The lady is the only one here and she can't see anyone. The lord told me so – she's…she's not feeling well."

"It might be your lord and lady's will that she see no one, but neither of them can override the will of the king," Eldacar told him. "Believe me, things are going to be a lost worse for you all if you force us to break the doors down."

"And we will," interjected Beren. "King Elessar has given me full authority to do what I think is necessary to carry out his orders. By invitation or force I think that it's necessary for me and my colleague to enter this house. Now. Open. The. Door."

One long second passed by with no response; then the sound of the lock being unlatched filled the air. Eldacar released the hold on his sword as the doors creaked open ever so slowly and a young servant boy – who was no older than Eldarion but certainly smaller – peeked out at them. "The lord isn't here right now," he reiterated in a shaking voice.

"That's fine," Beren told him in a calm voice, not wanting to scare the boy by letting him know that he was already aware of the lord's movements but also not wanting to create for him a false sense of security. Terrible things could very well lay ahead for everyone in that household, after all, and there was no use in trying to shield him from it. "We're here to question the lady."

"The lady?" the boy's hands flew up to clutch the edges of both of the doors. The two guards were startled to see how badly his hands were trembling. "The lady cannot see anyone. Good day."

Two well-placed feet prevented him from shutting the door in their faces. "We must insist on seeing her," said Beren threateningly, not all that conflicted about scaring the servant anymore. "If you want me to forget about how you just crushed my little toe in the doorframe right now you'll go and fetch her at once."

The little boy squeaked and took off running presumably – hopefully – in search of his lady. Beren and Eldacar stood waiting on the outside steps for a number of minutes, feeling too tense and awkward to use their time to relax a little. "What's taking so long?" the younger guard finally exploded.

"We'll give them half a minute more to come; then we go looking for them," decided Beren. Under normal circumstances he might have given the young Man a lecture on patience but at that moment patience seemed less like a virtue and more like a purveyor of costly delays.

The rest of the time, however, wasn't needed; for before his deadline had come to en end the servant boy returned with the lady of the house following two steps behind him. "Here they are, my lady," he was saying in a sympathetic tone. "They swore not to leave us alone until they spoke to you. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, child," said the lady softly. She was older than Eldacar but younger than Beren, no longer a girl or even a young woman but still young enough to be in her childbearing years. To the two guards she looked to be like most of the other noble's wives – pretty enough but otherwise unremarkable – except for the mixture of fear and hope that seemed to be emanating from her. "What brings you two here at this how, and in the name of the king? Has anything happened to my lord?"

"Not that we know of," answered Beren honestly. "We've come to ask you about his behavior and attitude as of late. May we come in or do we have to do this out here?"

"I…" the lady began, anxiously looking back and forth between them. When she saw that they seemed to know something beyond the normal inquiries she became truly frightened. "Please, I cannot! You must believe me!"

"We would never ask you to betray your husband's confidence," said Beren soothingly. Eldacar discreetly pulled on his sleeve but he ignored it. One little lie would be all right if it got her to say something that would help the prince and princesses! "The king fears that your husband might know something that could help – yes, what is it?"

He looked at Eldacar in annoyance and was shocked to when he saw the young Man's face. It was devoid of any color, his eyes were impossibly wide, and his mouth was slack. "Her hand," Eldacar said, sounding horrified and dazed. "Her hand, Beren; look at her hand."

The older guard complied and couldn't stop the gasp that tore from his lips. Though partially obscured by her long sleeve and the way that she was wringing her hands together it was plain enough to see that the lady only had nine fingers. In place of the missing one were some stitches set in skin that was a shade too pink not to be a little infected. "My lady," croaked out Beren. Dear Valar, the finger left for Princess Laurelin…it had come from a living person. "My lady, what did your husband do to you?"

"You have to help her!" the servant boy cried out when all of the emotion left his lady's face and she did not answer. "There's something wrong with the lord; his mind's all twisted! About a month ago he came home with a knife, took her to their bedchamber, and…I can still hear her screaming. Please, please; whatever he's done he did it to her too. Save her from him, please!"

"Hush, child," admonished the lady quietly, placing her complete hand on his back and giving him an affectionate pat. She then turned to Beren and Eldacar; and in her eyes they could see the despair, confusion, and breaking of a person whose husband hurt her and she didn't want to believe it. "The dear boy takes his duty to care for me when my lord cannot very seriously, but he is too young to understand that married people sometimes interact with each other in strange ways. My lord wouldn't normally do this but – but he said that he needed my finger."

Her face crumpled as her voice broke and the tears she'd been holding inside while still too shocked by her husband's actions to process them fully finally fell. "He's not so terrible. He – he even took some herbs from – from the Houses of Healing to ease – my pain. I am his wife…"

"Yes, but not his supply of body parts!" protested Eldacar bluntly. "My lady, no one has the right to be so cruel to another person no matter what relationship they may have! Please tell us more about what he's done to you and we'll protect you. You could even help us find the prince and princesses" –

"He took them?" asked the traumatized woman. Her expression became an odd mix of relief and sheer terror. "Then he is gone and will never return. Those poor, poor children…"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The city may have been stirring with gossip and speculation about the fire at Gimli's home but for the moment it was too early in the day for more than a few vague whispers to reach the ears of the guards that stood watch just outside of the city gates. The two Men had gone on duty in the middle of the night – before the excitement began – and were getting more tired and relieved as the early morning wore on, looking forward to the time when they could leave their posts and get some rest. It was a dull guard shift, really; even the evil-doers in the world seemed to be sleeping during those hours so nothing ever happened then.

While the people of Minas Tirith had seen more than their fair share of chaos and battle marches, all had been relatively peaceful since the destruction of the One Ring and the return of the king. Oh, there had been many orc hunts in the first couple of years that followed those events but none of those involved anything that came across as too grand or terrifying to be a real threat. Usually doing those the king would just lead a smallish pack of people out of the gates, giving whoever was on guard at the time an almost jovial wave as he galloped off not to be seen for again for weeks on end. As a result of that, most of the gate guards – especially most of the newer ones who weren't old enough to have been soldiers during the War or immediately afterward – weren't used to seeing large groups of grim-faced people moving out of the city with a deadly serious mission.

That explained why the two guards that morning were more than a little shocked to find the gates that morning opened without warning to reveal a large force riding out of the city at a great pace. At the head of it was Aragorn, a forbidding expression on his face that was belied by the ill look in his eyes, and his husband Legolas beside him, his fine elvish features drawn into such a focused determination that it was amazing that he was able to register anything else but what he was searching for. The hobbits were rode a little ways behind them with Elladan and Elrohir, who had been summoned when their brother had passed by their chambers during the march out of the citadel. Bringing up the rear was what looked to be all of the guards of the citadel. There was nothing confident or good-humored about any of their faces and no one made a move to even acknowledge the gate guards' presence.

Just when it looked as if the head of the unsettling party was going to pass them by without a word or a nod Aragorn suddenly halted his horse and raised his fist to signal to the others to do the same. "You two there!" he called in a no-nonsense tone to the guards who were gaping up at him. "How long as you been on duty?"

"Since the middle of the night," stammered one of them in awe and apprehension. Being one of the youngest in his company the king hadn't yet before addressed him in such a direct manner. In fact, he'd never seen King Elessar, or Prince Legolas for that matter, so up close before. Normally he would have been thrilled at the opportunity but on that day there was something so frighteningly intimidating about them that he was too nervous to really enjoy it. "We were just awaiting our replacements."

Thank the Valar for their favors! "Then you must have been out here when a small cart driven by two older Men left the city a little before sunrise," concluded Aragorn. The guards nodded. "Good. Do you remember what way they went?"

"They went that way, sire – northwest," answered the other guard promptly, sounding a little bit like a schoolchild asked to recite some fact in front of the class. He pointed in the direction where the cart had vanished over the horizon line. Truth be told, he'd found it unusual when it had emerged from Minas Tirith – small wooden carts like that were known to travel about in the wee hours of the morning, but usually they were driven by peasant farmers from the countryside who were heading into the city with petitions or on some other business. Still he had not stopped them from leaving, as he figured that he had no real reason to. Now his only hope was that his decision hadn't caused too much damage. "They've been out of sight not a half-hour."

"That's the road that leads to Ithilien," noted Legolas with desperate hope. "Ada and Gimli were waiting on it about five miles out. Are you certain that you didn't see the cart veer off in one direction or the other?"

"No, my prince," answered the guard with an emphatic shake of his head. Suddenly he was filled with an overwhelming wish that he could tell him something more; seeing the elf's exquisite features marked with such worry and ferocity made the guard want to do everything in his power to make all of that go away. "Just that way."

"They were still on course, Aragorn," Legolas told his husband, although he was more trying to assure himself of that fact than anything else when he said it aloud.

"And they're not too far ahead," replied Aragorn grimly. He had no doubt that if the two noblemen were truly at the bottom of the whole stalker business they would have left the path to Ithilien as soon as they were out of sight from the city. Still, they now at least had a solid direction to go in and that was more than they could have hoped for.

The king tightened his grip on the reins and felt his horse tense underneath him. Without turning back he shouted in a commanding tone for all to hear: "We ride the path to Ithilien! Follow me!"

The ground trembled as the slew of horses galloped their way across Pelennor Fields. Even though they all knew that they could go no faster the rode still seemed long, agonizingly long for all of the anxious horsemen. Each one of them were going over in their minds the last time that they had seen Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen, and wondering even as they tried not to if that was truly going to be the last time. No one spoke, though, not wanting to give those dark thoughts more power by speaking them aloud.

Finally Elladan, who was prone to nervous babbling in situations that he knew were beyond his control, couldn't hold it in any longer. "I'm so sorry," he blurted out.

"For what?" demanded Aragorn sharply. He didn't need people giving their condolences about the fate of his children before they knew for certain that anything had happened to them! "There's nothing to be sorry about – they're fine. They're fine. We just – have to get to them."

"No, I'm sorry for not seeing that there was something wrong sooner," said Elladan fretfully, ignoring the pointed stare from his twin that was trying to tell him that now was not the time. "They were – they were – Eldarion and Laurelin – they must have been –"

"What?" wondered Aragorn a little irritably. "If you know something about what happened to my children you'd best spit it out."

"I don't know, but I've been thinking it over," Elladan offered up as an explanation. The situation was terrible indeed, for no one made any witty comments about his claim to have been thinking. He didn't like it; it was too shark a reminder of the seriousness of the situation when even Legolas with his sometimes bizarre sense of humor didn't even crack a tiny smile. "Lord Tanondor and Lord Eärnil brought us a small pitcher of water last night – I thought that they were just trying to be kind during a difficult situation, but now…." He shook his head to clear his mind of any distracting thoughts. "Anyway, Laurelin and Eldarion drank it down, every last drop, before anyone else could have some too. Then they fell into what I thought at the time was a deep, peaceful sleep. In light of everything else that's happened, however…"

Legolas grimaced as a sharp pain made it feel as if someone was kicking him hard in the stomach. Silently cursing the uneven terrain and his own frayed nerves he asked, "What? Do you believe that they poisoned our children?"

"Not poisoned but they could very well have been drugged," said Elladan regretfully. It would certainly make transporting them a lot easier. You know Eldarion and Laurelin – they aren't exactly the types of people who would go off peaceably with someone that they didn't want to and they'd be all the more unruly once they'd figured out that you and Estel didn't want them to be with the lords either. Now they're unable to do anything to stop it from happening."

Aragorn's eyes darted over to his husband when he heard an almost unperceivable squeak of distress. The elf was clutching at his stomach the way he usually did when he was distressed and/or worrying about their children. He'd done that before when he'd confided to Aragorn about his unease over the situation with the guards and the two noblemen; the Man hated to see it now more than ever because it reminded him of his failings. Well, he couldn't go back in time and undo his callousness but he could do something to prevent any more torment from coming to his beloved. "If you feel the need to carry on so," he told his brother testily, "would you be so kind as to talk about something else? Preferably not about our missing children being in a more desperate situation than we thought when we can't do anything about it! Can't you see how upset it makes –"

"I'm fine, Aragorn," interjected Legolas defensively. That wasn't technically a lie – the pain had passed so he really was fine. There was no way he was going to tell his husband about the odd sting; Elbereth, judging by the way that the Man was trying to protect him when he thought that just his feelings were hurting he didn't want to know what he'd do if he knew that there had been physical pain to go along with it.

"Are you sure?" pressed Aragorn.

Yes, if he knew about the physical pain Aragorn probably would have ordered him to go back to the city. Legolas hated to openly defy the king in front of his Men; since that would be what would happen in the face of such a demand he was better off not mentioning it at all. "There's no need to coddle me," the elf insisted, consciously moving his hands away from his stomach. "Save that for our children when we find them. We will find them, be they drugged or not and no matter who's responsible for all of this. We cannot not find them, Aragorn; that just can't happen."

"We won't," broke in Elladan, properly chastised but still unable to control his mouth. "I mean, we won't not find them; we will find them."

With Estel and Legolas doing what they could to chide Elladan for his blathering, Elrohir found something else to occupy his time: keeping an eye out behind them for the White City to fall out of sight. If he and Estel were right – and they usually were ('even if we weren't last night when my nephew and nieces needed us to be! Oh, curse the enemy that hides in plain sight!') – the lords wouldn't risk doing anything too noticeable while the city guards could still see them, like suddenly veering off course. At the same time, if Lord Tanondor and Lord Eärnil really were planning to do something terrible to the children they would either want to do it right away – and the elf lord couldn't even entertain that notion – or else leave the path that the king and prince knew that they were on right away. It stood to reason, then, that they would have made their move as soon as they could no longer see the city. It was important to find that exact point before they passed over it; having so many horses trample the point of departure would inevitably mess up the trail that they would need to follow.

When all he could see of Minas Tirith was the very peak of the White Tower Elrohir quickly rode up to his youngest brother's side. "I would suggest slowing your Men down," he said urgently. "We're almost out of sight from the city. I would wager my life that we'll be coming to the point where we're going to find something – if there's anything to find – very soon."

As he was no novice at tracking (even though he hadn't done it seriously in a number of years) Aragorn immediately recognized the significance of what his brother was saying and complied with his suggestion. "Slow to a walk and be prepared to stop when I tell you!" he barked back at the guards as he did the same with his own horse. "We cannot risk trampling something in our haste that might help us locate the children sooner."

Legolas didn't need to divert any of his attention off of the path while he complied with his husband's orders. That, in addition to his keen elvish eyes, made it possible for him to be the first one to notice the ghastly sight that lay ahead. "Stop," he uttered in a tone that Aragorn had only heard him use twice before, once after he'd been poisoned and was asking the Man what he was supposed to do about eating now; and again when he had realized that he was bleeding shortly before Eldarion was born. It was the sound of horrified realization, when one knew without a doubt that something had definitely changed for the worse. "Just – stop. Ai Elbereth, no!"

He half-fell, half slid off of his horse while it was still in motion, not bothering to stop to regain his balance after the dueling movements caused him to stumble a little. He just charged ahead on foot for a few yards and then fell to his knees. "My love?" Aragorn called after him in alarm. "What…"

Then the Man saw it, or rather him or her: there was something – a body – lying on the path straight ahead of them. Legolas was putting his fingers on his throat, his wrists, his temple, anywhere that he could think of that had a pulse point, trying to ascertain the person's condition. Aragorn didn't have to conduct such an examination to be reasonably sure of the truth: given the number of people in their party and how close they'd come to him that person would either have to be dead or seriously injured to not to have moved out of the way as soon as he heard them coming. But who was it?

Since his face was turned away from them, the only person who could see it clearly was Legolas kneeling beside him. Judging by the look on the prince's face, the person in the road wasn't a stranger. Aragorn's heart twisted; he didn't want to know for certain but there was no way that he couldn't see for himself who it was. His body seemingly moving of its own volition the Man quickly dismounted and hurriedly stumbled over to his husband's side. He gasped when he saw who the unfortunate soul was.

"It's Lord Eärnil," said Legolas unnecessarily in a hushed tone as Aragorn dropped to his knees beside him. The lord's face was very pale, as all of the color had seemingly drained from it to the front side of his tunic. A large part of that garment was saturated with stark, angry-looking blood. The elf looked for the point of injury but his cursory attempts proved futile – it was hart to see exactly where all that blood was seeping out from in that sea of red. "Elladan! Elrohir! Come quickly!"

Seeing his brothers-in-law scrambling to obey him Legolas turned his attention back to the Man. "Lord Eärnil?" he asked in what he didn't realize was a frantic tone. "Lord Eärnil, can you hear me? Please answer me!"

Miraculously the fallen lord stirred when the prince placed one of his hands on the side of his face. As what had happened to him slammed back into his mind, Eärnil peered out suspiciously with his dimming vision. He tried to breathe a sign of relief when he recognized King Elessar and Prince Legolas and instead ended up choking on his own blood. "I'm sorry," he wheezed. "I didn't see what he really was."

"It was Lord Tanondor, wasn't it?" asked Legolas in a distraughtly resigned tone.

"He came to me about – about the guards," rasped Eärnil. He could feel his strength waning but he needed to speak, needed to tell the monarchs that he'd accidentally betrayed what had happened. "I – thought he was, was trying to help. He was my friend. I couldn't get – them away from him. Dear Valar, I'm sorry."

Aragorn looked sadly down at the lord. He really couldn't blame Eärnil for being fooled; he himself had been as well and he didn't have the excuse of Tanondor being a friend. "This was not your fault," he said earnestly.

"He said," gasped out Eärnil. "He said…"

"Shhhh," urged Elladan as he and his twin squatted down next to Eärnil and continued to dig through their packs for the proper healing aides. "Save your strength."

His advice came too late; with one final labored breath Eärnil's eyes rolled back, never to see anything again. "Hiro hyn hidh ab 'wannath (May he find peace after death)," whispered Elrohir as he closed the dead Man's eyes for the last time.

"He had nothing to do with it," said Legolas mournfully. "It was Lord Tanondor, and now my babies are alone with him. A good Man is dead and our children are in the clutches of his murderer!"

That final cry seemed to jar something within him and Legolas leapt to his feet as if the ground beneath him was on fire. "There's no time to lose, Aragorn!" he yelled right before a blinding flash of pain shot up from his stomach and caused him to fall back down.

"Legolas!" cried Aragorn, panicked, his arms flying out to support his husband. The twins were at their side almost instantly. "What's wrong? Where are you hurt?"

"My stomach – my stomach pains me; but that doesn't matter now! I can handle it until we find them!" Legolas fought to stand again but the pain was too unbearable to fight through. As he grimaced and fell back again he was horrified to see that no one was making a move to go on. Was he the only one who could feel time slipping through their fingers?

Unable to free himself from the twins' examining hands or Aragorn's protective embrace the elf clutched insistently at his husband's arm. "Go after them! Leave me!" he all but ordered before another terrible pain racked his body. "Dear Elbereth, this can't be happening! Why is this happening?"

To be continued…

A/N: We'll catch up with the children and their kidnapper in the next chapter, I promise!

A/N: The line "Hiro hyn hidh ab 'wannath" is taken from The Two Towers movie and is actually translated "May they find peace after death." I looked online to find a translation to change the pronoun from a plural to a singular but couldn't find one that was available for my use at the time.