When most people met him they took a great deal of time telling Eldarion about just how much he looked like his papa (as if that fact had somehow escaped his attention all of these years); when those who really knew Aragorn saw his son's eagerness to wield a sword they all agreed that the boy was indeed his siring father's child. That was true enough but what a lot of people who didn't know him beyond his physical attributes (and oftentimes even those that did) failed to realize, or at least mention, that there were also many ways in which he was his birthing father's son through and through. One of those ways happened to be was in the sense of humor: friends and family agreed a long time ago that Legolas had a frankly bizarre – often morbid and black, and sometimes inappropriate – sense of humor and Eldarion knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the spitting image of his ada in that respect.

This fact could begin to explain why Eldarion found it impossible to suppress his chuckle when Tanondor pulled out the knife that he'd stolen from the young crown prince and announced his insane intentions to remove what was in his and his sisters' blood by surgically removing a little bit of their outsides. It was entirely too bizarre for words: one of the Men who used to spend hours coaching Eldarion in the ways of courtly etiquette was now threatening to cut the tips of their ears off with the same knife that he'd taken from the boy's bedchamber after he'd used it to attack him. From this it was also fair to assume that this Man that this Man who was once a part of a crowd of advisors that had lectured endlessly about people's expectations of princely conduct had also left someone's finger in his five-year-old sister's bedchamber as a morbid little gift, thus setting off the whole stalker business.

While the gravity of the situation wasn't lost on him by any means Eldarion could, albeit a little hysterically, see the humor in it as well. The son of the elf that had once reacted to the news that his would-be assassin put too much poison in his honey and had accidentally saved his and his unborn son's life instead of killing him by laughing couldn't help chuckling a little at the irony of the circumstances that he and his sisters had found themselves in.

Laurelin reacted to that out-of-place sound the same way that she would have if someone had poked her with a red-hot brand: by jumping out of her skin and shying away. The little girl was giving him the strangest looks and Eldarion managed to repress any more laughter before it could really frighten her. The way that she stared imploringly at him had suddenly made him very aware that he was the only one there that Laurelin and the babies could depend on to protect them and he knew that he couldn't let them down. Quickly he shoved Laurelin farther away from the crazy lord and toward the babies. It would be easier for him to protect them if they were all together, right?

Steeling his resolve, Eldarion moved between his sisters and the madman. "You're not cutting off my ears," he declared in no uncertain terms. "And there's no way you're going anywhere near my sisters again."

Tanondor's face contorted with fury and Eldarion could only begin to realize why. He had his plans all nicely laid out until the boy before him had decided to act like a brat and he couldn't believe that now the former prince was daring to stand there and openly defy him. "I have tried to be nice and fair," growled the Man, so angry that he could do nothing but stand perfectly still. "I've told you the rules and clarified them again and again but apparently you are so spoiled that you require a demonstration of the appropriate punishments before you can really learn."

"You have no right," glowered Eldarion defiantly. "Stand down, Lord Tanondor – that is an order."

That assertion of power seemed to break something in Tanondor – suddenly in fury-induced paralysis was gone and he charged forward. "There are consequences to disobeying your father," he hissed.

"You are not my father!" yelled Eldarion angrily, raising his arms up to repel the Man.

The crazy lord plowed into him with no finesse but a surprising amount of strength; it took all of Eldarion's elvish grace to remain on both of his feet. If nothing else the boy knew that the last thing that he wanted to happen at the moment was to get pinned to the ground where his movements would be limited. "Stay away – I'm warning you!" shrieked Eldarion, squirming frantically.

"I was going to be compassionate," seethed Tanondor as the tried to get a firm hold on the prince. Eldarion seemed to him to be part-fish, however: flopping about endlessly and too slippery to keep a hold on for too long. It was frustrating and sent the unstable Man further down his anger spiral. "I was going to give all of you the same herbs that I gave to my old wife; losing those horrid tips wouldn't have been painful. Now for you it has to be. Perhaps you'll learn your lesson about doing what your father tells you to do when your pain is blinding and I won't allow you to have any relief."

"I think I'm doing exactly what my fathers would tell me to do, you hypocritical lunatic," retorted Eldarion nastily.

A wild gleam came to Tanondor's eyes. "Do as I say," he ordered, his body practically shaking in anticipation, "or else I'll make you watch your sisters receiving the same punishment as you are about to get."

"Bastard!" screamed Eldarion, lashing out wildly. "Traitor! Animal! Monster! Orc!"

But in his rage Eldarion lost his concentration on what he was doing to repel the madman and ended up doing exactly what Tanondor wanted him to do. Instead of continuing to try to pull away he propelled himself forward, putting him in close enough proximity to Tanondor for the insane lord to be able to seize one side of the boy's head. Eldarion cried out as the powerful grip pulled his hair and left bruises. "You'll thank me for this later," the older Man taunted, raising the knife to the ear on the side that wasn't being held.

Pure survival instincts set in and without thinking over what his next plan of action was going to be Eldarion managed to turn his head enough to get his teeth into the flesh of Tanondor's arm. The crazy nobleman let out a bellow of pain when the boy bit down so hard into his wrist that he could taste blood. The knife slipped, cutting the skin behind the ear but leaving it – and the tips – in tact. Most importantly for Eldarion in the immediate sense, however, was that Tanondor lost his grip on him, giving him the chance to move away.

"Think of that as your prince teaching you a lesson about being a stalker, kidnapper, traitor, and all-around bad person," sneered Eldarion mockingly as he disgustedly spat Tanondor's blood out of his mouth.

Beneath his confident and defiant exterior, though, the boy was less than confident. He may get in his little victories like that one but how was he supposed to win this fight in the long run? The only advantage that he could see for himself was that he was still young with the energy that went along with that; but it wasn't as if Tanondor was ancient old. Beyond that, the lord, being a nobleman, had the benefit of what he'd learned when he'd undoubtedly received when he was trained with the other nobles with Gondor's army while Eldarion lacked any type of formal fighting training. On top of that, he only had to wear his opponent down while the boy had to find some way to make him stop his attack. Finally, if all of that wasn't bad enough, the older Man was completely and utterly insane, a fact which seemed to be fueling his strength while detaching him from the feelings that most normal people had about hurting someone else. Eldarion believed without a doubt that Tanondor could kill him, Laurelin, and the twins without feeling an ounce of remorse.

With nothing else to do, he braced himself as the lord held his injured arm and glared at him. "I did learn something," snarled Tanondor. "Shall I show you?"

He sprang forward; Eldarion automatically put out his hands to push him away and Tanondor managed to grab one of his wrists. The madman raised up the knife and once again the prince tried to ward him off only to get his other wrist captured and crushed against the heavy hilt of the weapon. After a brief but frantic struggle Tanondor moved and forcefully held both of the boyish, somewhat skinny, wrists into one hand, leaving the one with the knife free to do its ghastly work. "I learned to keep my skin away from your teeth, you uncouth little brat," smirked the insane lord.

Eldarion watched in wide-eyed horror as Tanondor raised the knife once more. Now, he understood that there were rules about fairness, honor, and gentlemanly conduct in a fight and he wanted to learn to be a good and noble fighter before contemplated being a devious one. But then again, his wonderful Ada and Papa admitted that rules could be bent and even broken under the right circumstances. Even they would agree that being about to have the tips of your ears cut off against your will would be one of those circumstances. No one would fault him for fighting a little dirty – after all, it wasn't only him that he was fighting for but for Laurelin, Gilraen, and Meren too.

Giving Tanondor the same look that a feral, starving, and desperate person would give a haughty stranger that was taunting him with food right before attacking said stranger Eldarion used one of the two free limbs that he had left – his legs – and kneed the older Man as hard as his adrenaline allowed him in the groin. Tanondor released an unearthly roar of agony, dropping the knife and grabbing that area of his body as he fell to his knees.

But even as Eldarion felt the sweet rush of relief when that bruising grasped let go of his wrists he knew that the lord wasn't quite defeated yet. Before Tanondor could recover, the boy plucked the knife off of the ground and stood over him with a nasty smirk on his face. "You would do well, young prince, if you followed the examples that we advisors set," Eldarion said spitefully, reciting the words that various noblemen had told him when they'd felt that he wasn't putting his all in learning how to behave properly. It sounded like good advice now.

Eldarion turned the hilt side of the knife out and struck Tanondor hard in the head. It might have been better if he'd stabbed the older Man, thus making sure that he could never harm him or his sisters again, but the boy found doing that too unfathomable and the opportunity to do what Tanondor had done to him not too long ago too fitting to resist. His anger, adrenaline, natural elvish strength, and the weight of the hilt ensured that he didn't fail; the lord gave another quieter but just as painful cry and fell to the ground unconscious.

The boy allowed himself a moment to catch his breath and revel in his victory. It was only a temporary win, however, and he knew it all too well: Tanondor wouldn't stay knocked out forever. Eldarion had to put enough distance between that Man and himself and his sisters as soon as he could.

Tucking the knife into his belt Eldarion stumbled at a hurried but weary pace over to his sisters. The babies were fussing a bit but there wasn't a lot that he could do about that at the time being. Laurelin was next to them, sitting up but curled into the fetal position with her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clamped firmly over her ears. He stopped in front of her and waited for her to respond to his coming; when she didn't do anything he grabbed her wrist to get her attention and she let out an ear-shattering scream.

"Shhhh!" Eldarion hushed her, half comforting and half scolding. "It's me. It's Eldarion. I'm all right and so are you."

"Eldarion?" she gasped, staring hard at him. What she saw was apparently troubling because she almost instantly burst into tears. "You're bleeding! He got you!"

Eldarion suddenly was very aware of the blood that was trickling from the knife-inflicted wound he'd received behind the ear. While it wasn't life-threatening – it would probably stop flowing on it's own in a few minutes – the little girl was well primed to be terrified of the smallest drop or red. "I got a little cut," said Eldarion soothingly. "Just a little one. My ears are all right – see for yourself," he added, cupping his ears so that she could see them better.

"Oh!" she cried out in relief before doing something that she hadn't done in ages: flinging her arms around her brother in the same way that she did with Aragorn and Legolas when they woke her up from bad dreams. What he'd done was even better than that, in her eyes, because the nightmare of what had just transpired and could have happened without his intervention was real. Eldarion was her hero.

The full weight of the task before him hit Eldarion like a sack of stones as Laurelin clung to him with a combination of desperation and worship. They needed to get far, far away from Tanondor and, while carrying two infants and as much supplies as they could carry, walk until they found some way to get back home. And they had to do this without depending on Ada, Papa, uncles, aunts, grandparents, guards, or anyone else – his little sisters would need Eldarion to make it all better. He had to be the responsible one.

"Laurelin," he said softly, gently disengaging the girl from around his waist. "Laurelin, honey, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to be a big girl and help me calm the babies down. Can you do that?"

Sniffling a little, she went over to one of the baskets and started to gently stroke one of the baby's stomach while Eldarion murmured soothingly to the other one. "What's going to happen now?" she asked.

"I'm going to get us back home," vowed Eldarion. No bravado was in his voice, only resolve. "We're going to follow the trail that the cart made. It should lead us to familiar land."

"Will we get back soon?" she persisted tearfully. "It's going to rain either today or tomorrow – I can see it in the clouds! The babies can't be out in the rain all the time! And what about the mean Man? He made the trail! Is he going to follow us?"

Eldarion cursed under his breath. He'd failed to take all of that into account. There was no guarantee that they'd be anywhere close to home before the rain started, especially if they were going to be weighed down with supplies and infants. He wasn't as concerned about exposing the babies to the rain as he was about the fact that the water would surely wash away the trail, making it impossible for him to tell where it twisted and turned. They could very well end up hopelessly lost. And how could he have forgotten Tanondor already? The trail would probably be the first place he would look for them; the older Man knew it better than Eldarion and he wouldn't have the extra baggage slowing him down. The boy did not want to fight him again unless there was no other choice, especially when the insane nobleman would most likely be able to grab him before he could put the babies down.

"All right, we have a new plan," announced Eldarion, trying to keep the direness of the situation out of his tone. He hesitated for a moment as he formulated a new plan. "We follow the river – south. Yes, south. The trail that the cart made seems to be coming from that way so it's safe to say that home's that way too. There are always people and such near rivers, so we're bound to find someone who can help us. Besides, now we won't have to carry a bunch of waterskins around with us. Come, Laurelin," he added when the girl looked hopefully at him. "We've got work to do."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It wouldn't have mattered if his dearly missed father Elrond or the Great Enemy, Sauron, himself, or anyone else standing between Aragorn and the door that led into the royal healing chamber; at that moment the Man would have been capable of plowing almost anyone over without a second thought. There was no room for him to think in his role as the political ruler of Gondor, the great military leader of old, or as a brother, son, or friend – the only thing that was going through Aragorn's mind was the devastation that had befallen his family. His children were missing, possibly for good (though he refused to let himself think like that), and now…

Legolas had been pregnant. Why hadn't Aragorn seen that before? Hadn't his husband been unusually emotional lately? He'd just dismissed it as the elf fretting about the well being of their children. What a fool he'd been! When did Legolas fret about anything without trying to do something about it? Not that knowing would have changed anything; Aragorn knew in his heart and with deep shame that had he known about the pregnancy he would have been even quicker to dismiss Legolas' concerns about whether or not the guards were truly guilty, even though only an idiot would believe that Legolas would be too emotional to see a possible threat to his family when he had someone new to worry about.

Well, he would have had someone new to worry about; but that was over now. Instead of having eight more months of pregnancy to look forward to and dread at the same time Legolas had a miscarriage. A miscarriage. Their baby was – was gone. Aragorn could barely comprehend this: there was no way that either of them could hope to save it because the baby was now beyond their reach. Dear Valar, why was this happening to them?

Using up all of his restraint in forcing himself not to throw open the door with inappropriate ferocity and passion Aragorn opened it without knocking and steeled himself. He saw Legolas there, sitting on the edge of the bed with Elladan next to him. His brother was speaking softly to him with his arm around his shoulder but Legolas looked too dazed to register that anyone was there. Elladan's head snapped up the moment that Aragorn opened the door; he gave the Man a tearfully sympathetic pathetic smile as he moved aside. Legolas just sat there with his head down and his hands grasping at either knee.

At that moment Aragorn would have given, promised, and sacrificed almost anything to have the words to say that would somehow magically make everything all right. "Legolas," he whispered as he took a tentative step forward.

"I was pregnant, Aragorn," said Legolas as if he were confused beyond measure.

It horrified Aragorn to hear him sound this way. He rushed forward to kneel down on the floor in front of the elf and covered his hands with his own. "I know," the Man said, blinking back tears and trying to keep the devastation out of his tone. There would be a time and place for that later, but right now Legolas needed him to be strong. "Elrohir – he told me; you don't have to go through it again with me."

"I'm not pregnant anymore," said Legolas as if he hadn't heard Aragorn at all. His voice was starting to tremble; he sucked in a rough breath and looked down at his arms. "But there's no baby here. I was pregnant and now I'm not but I'm not holding a new baby. Our baby's not here, Aragorn; she's – she's – Elbereth, she's" –

Legolas' voice broke off as all of the emotions that he'd been too stunned and drained to take in before finally came crashing down on him. Aragorn moved closer still and wrapped him in a protective and comforting embrace as soon as the elf's face crumbled. The Man could feel his husband's frame shake violently with sobs; a river a tears ran unacknowledged down his own face and together they mourned for their baby. "I know," sobbed Aragorn into Legolas' neck, unable to think of anything else to say.

"I didn't mean it," cried Legolas.

"What didn't you mean?" Aragorn asked him gently.

The elf abruptly pulled away from his husband, drawing his knees up almost against his chest and covering his face with his hands. Aragorn saw a bloodstain on Legolas' leggings and nearly broke down completely when he realized what it was and where it came from. "How could you not remember?" demanded Legolas, the guilt heavy in his voice. "When we made – when we made her I told you that I didn't wish to be kept perennially pregnant, but I didn't mean it. I didn't want this to happen, Aragorn, I swear upon everything that I hold dear that I didn't. I just want the baby – Elbereth, please, I want my baby!"

"Legolas!" exclaimed Aragorn in alarm, grabbing his screaming husband's wrists in an attempt to calm him down a little. When the elf stopped thrashing Aragorn took his face in both hands and looked him squarely in the eyes. "Legolas, please listen to me: this didn't happen because you said anything, either jokingly or in earnest; nor because you did anything wrong. None of this is your fault. Do you understand me, Legolas? You are completely blameless in this."

Thankfully, something seemed to get through to the traumatized prince; while he was still shaking a bit he appeared to regain some of his bearings. At least he wasn't screaming or thrashing around enough to hurt himself anymore. Aragorn was so absorbed in observing his husband's mood that he didn't hear Elrohir approaching until the elf lord had his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Estel," he said in a low voice that urged the Man to come with him.

Aragorn reluctantly rose to his feet and followed Elrohir a few steps away (which was the maximum distance that he could tolerate being separated from Legolas at the moment). "Estel, we haven't been able to talk him into changing his clothing," explained Elrohir. "I don't think that he could hear us before, but as you are getting through to him perhaps you can get him to let us" –

"What?" demanded Legolas sharply, rising up off of the bed with surprising speed and planting his feet in an almost threatening manner. "Let you what? Dispose of my clothing? Or else wash them? I am not so feeble-minded that I don't know what's on my leggings, and I tell you now that I will let you do neither! What is to you an unseemly stain is all that is left of my baby and I will not have them unceremoniously thrown away or washed as if she was nothing more than a mere blot on some fabric. Don't think that I won't fight you if I have to."

"You won't have to," spoke up Aragorn firmly, moving away from Elrohir to stand at Legolas' side. "Legolas, we will do whatever you think is proper to bury it" –

Legolas furiously jerked away from him in one sudden motion that nearly made Aragorn lose his balance. "Not it," he growled. "That was our baby and a she, not some trinket that we misplaced! I told you that I knew I wouldn't have any more boys when the twins were born! She was a girl; she would have been a beautiful little girl…"

"Legolas," Elladan nervously cleared his throat, wondering if it was possible to say anything that wouldn't infuriate his upset friend even more. "Maybe – would you like for us to send for your father?"

"Yes," said Legolas shortly, glaring at Elrohir and Aragorn as he backed away even further. "I want Ada; he will not be so callous."

Aragorn sternly reminded himself that it was the grief and not his husband who was speaking. "I wouldn't be surprised if Thranduil was heading for the city right now with Gimli," he said, silently recalling how the cart with the children must have missed it rendezvous with the pair. "I can have word left with the gate guards for him to come here as soon as he arrives. Beren will tell them; I was just about to send him to meet with the search party –"

"Is Beren here?" demanded Legolas. Aragorn nodded wordlessly. "Beren! Beren, come in here at once!"

"My love," began Aragorn.

"Do you believe me to be so selfish in my grief that I have forgotten about the jeopardy that my four other children are in?" snapped Legolas. "Or is it that you think that I'm too frail to deal with it right now? Well, Eldarion and the girls can't wait for a better moment and I will not wallow in any more excuses as to why I'm failing them. Beren!"

A few seconds later the guard appeared in the doorframe looking every bit as awkward as he felt. The hobbits, not seeing why they would not be allowed to enter when Beren could, scurried in from behind him. Merry and Pippin stood on either side of Legolas, forming a sort of comforting circle of familial support around Legolas while Sam sent both Man and elf a sympathetic look before standing in the space between the two. Even Estella came in, although she hung back a few steps away with an unreadable expression on her face.

On some level Legolas was extremely glad that the hobbits were there; however, his steely eyes never left Beren's face. "Yes, your majesty?" asked the guard.

"What have you found out?" asked Legolas tersely. "Don't you dare soften the truth, either, or you shall see what happens when I really lose my temper. Tell me exactly what you told the king."

Not daring to look at Aragorn to make sure what he was saying was acceptable, Beren croaked out his information about Tanondor's insanity, obsession with Lord Cirion's widow, the former lord's plan, and even the identity of the severed finger's owner. He bowed his head a little when he reached the end of his knowledge and Legolas nodded. "I believe that you told me all that you could," the elf declared. "Now your king has some orders for you. Aragorn?"

Aragorn suppressed his shudder at the coldness in his husband's tone. 'He is not himself,' he silently reminded himself. "You and the other guards who remained in the city are now to join the search party at once," he ordered aloud. "Just follow the road to Ithilien until the city is completely out of sight; there you will see clear markings as to where the cart veered off-course. The party is following this new path. And when you leave Minas Tirith, make very certain that the gate guards know where to tell Thranduil that Legolas is. I will not tolerate any misinformation right now."

Beren looked into Legolas' face and wept inside at the pain that the elf's strange intense mood couldn't cover. "Of course, sire," the guard nodded, and then walked toward the door.

"I have one more issue I need to discuss with you Beren," said Aragorn quickly. He crossed the chamber to where Beren had stopped and spoke in a low voice. "I will be joining you when the right time comes. Until then, I must ask you to be my spokesman and commander to the guards. Let them know that they are to capture Tanondor" – he said the name in a venomous hiss – "alive until the prince and princesses are found. No excuses; we cannot risk losing that source of information while their whereabouts are still unknown. Once you have all four in your sights I don't care if Tanondor comes back dead or alive."

Aragorn was deadly serious. It was horrible enough that the former lord had killed a fellow noble and trusted advisor, and ad harvested pieces of his wife's body in order to terrorize a child. But now…now he was also responsible for the murder – not the loss, not even the death, or anything else that left it open to interpretation that what had happened had been an accident – of his and Legolas' unborn daughter. Whether it was at the hands of a guard during the hunt or after a formal trial (and either scenario had its advantages) Tanondor's life was over.

"I understand, King Elessar," breathed Beren as he turned to leave again.

"I'm coming with you."

Everyone in the healing chamber turned to look at Legolas in astonishment; he set his jaw and stared unblinking at the guard. "I'm coming with you," he repeated.

Forgetting in his upset his husband's current mood Aragorn started to protest. "Legolas" –

"No!" retorted Legolas harshly, whipping his head around to look at the Man and holding up one hand as if to ward off any contrary arguments. "I know what you're going to say and I know…I know that you mean well, Aragorn, but – but no. I'm going to join the search party."

"Legolas, we just lost a baby," said Aragorn, choking up a little.

"I know!" barked Legolas. "I'm very aware of what just happened, thank you. But physically I'm fine and I can't fathom staying here with nothing to do but obsess about it and worry myself senseless over what could be happening to the other children."

"You need to give yourself some time to recover," Aragorn practically begged.

The elf's expression suddenly grew colder than anyone there could remember ever seeing it as. "But you've gone through the same loss that I have and you apparently don't think that you require the same time," pointed out Legolas with the quiet sort of anger that made everyone feel about two inches tall whether it was directed at them or not. "So either you think I'm too fragile to handle everything that's happened, or else you think that for some reason I should have a more difficult time recovering than you – perhaps because you do think that what happened to our baby is my fault."

The room grew conspicuously quiet as a hurt look came to Aragorn's eyes. "I'm going," reiterated Legolas determinedly. "I'm joining the search if I have to crawl the whole way on my hands and knees by myself."

"It won't come to that," spoke up the last person that anyone expected to: Estella. The quiet hobbit lass stepped toward Legolas with wide eyes and a resolute expression on her face. "I'll go with you; between the two of us I'm sure that we can get a horse somewhere."

Aragorn looked to Merry – whether in surprise or to find support with another husband he didn't know – but the hobbit just blinked back tears and nodded to his wife. "Well, it would be best if there was just one coordinated search party," said the Man in concession. "If we're all going to go we should go together."

"Hold one moment," requested Elrohir. "First of all, don't think that you all are going off and leaving Elladan and I behind; however, no one is leaving until we examine Legolas one final time."

"Not now," Legolas told him a bit unkindly, not forgetting his previous anger with his friend and not keen on the idea of anyone touching him right now.

"Please, Legolas," Elladan all but begged as the healing woman Ioreth, tearstains on her cheeks, came in with fresh clothing. "If not for your well being then for Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen. You'll only hold up the search if you suddenly collapse because of something that we could have taken care of before."

"Fine," Legolas gave in reluctantly. "One brief examination; but if you try to keep me from going it had better be life-threatening or else I will never forgive you."

To be continued…