The hour had grown late when the skies opened up and the rain started to pour down. The guard Mardil turned his face up toward the falling water, imagining that it was fate spitting on him and his scouting party's efforts, before staring down the path that they'd been following. This was one of the trails that might possibly be able to lead them to the kidnapped crown prince and princesses; the very same one that was now being compromised and would very quickly be washed away by the downpour. "No," he groaned, not wanting to see what was happening happen but unable to make himself close his eyes. "No! If there is any mercy in Middle-earth, grant us one more hour. I beg you, one more hour please!"

His second-in-command gave him a stubbornly optimistic look. "It's not over with yet," he reminded Mardil with steely hopefulness. "The rest of the scouts haven't reported back yet. They may have found something!"

"If anyone had found anything of use they would have shouted it so loudly that the hobbits of the Shire would be sending us polite but pointed notes to keep our voices down," countered Mardil, clearly frustrated. He defiantly shook his fist at the darkening sky. "And now we have this – this treachery to contend with. The trails will be destroyed entirely."

"Calm yourself! The weather is not treacherous, nor is it favorable – it just is what it is, regardless of the wishes of Men, elves, dwarves, and hobbits," replied the other Man wisely. "Do not blame it for the Lo – for Tanondor's treason."

"I would blame him were he here for me to blame," said Mardil.

"I know," said the second-in-command quietly. He sighed as he felt himself get more and more drenched with rain. "I do hope that the scouts return shortly! It would be awful to have to search for them as well as Prince Eldarion and the girls if they turned up missing too."

"I certainly wouldn't be looking for them," grumbled Mardil, feeling understandably cranky as the droplets – yet another obstacle between them and the children – continued to make its presence known. "They should know better than to depend solely on the soil to help them keep track of an unstable path. I for one refuse to divert my attention from my pressing duty in order to seek out a bunch of grown Men who should be smarter than that."

Fortunately for all of them, the scouts began reporting back to Mardil with in a few minutes of the guard's declarations of intended abandonment should they lose their ways. Each of their stories were mostly the same: there was a strong (at least until the rain came) and distinct trail that was obviously made by Tanondor's cart cutting across the lands but it had failed to yield up any additional clues as to the whereabouts of Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen. The markings of the cart's wheels stretched out before them as far as their eyes could see but the cart itself had yet to be found. Their search of this area had been completely exhausted with nothing to show for it and there was no point in going on further now that the trail was becoming unreliable.

None of this news was to Mardil's liking. "This will not do," he announced grimly. "I have word from Beren that the king and prince will be at the base camp by the time that we return. From what little he's told anyone I must surmise that they are very distraught over all that's happened. He ordered us to have some type of news to tell them and I cannot bear for it be 'trail's gone, nothing learned' from us."

"It could be that the only reason why we haven't found anything is because the other scouting party has," pointed out Túrin, one of the youngest of the scouts. What he lacked in years and stature, however, he made up for in determination and optimism. "What's to say that Tanondor didn't retrace his steps and follow the opposite trail? The others might have already found the prince and princesses as we speak."

"I agree," spoke up the second-in-command kindly. "And since there's nothing more that we can do here, may I suggest going back to see if that theory is correct now?"

Mardil hesitated. "One more sweep of the area," he declared as the rain plastered his hair to his head. The other Men looked slightly discouraged and he let out a deep breath. "Just one more, to ease my mind and not make me a liar when I tell King Elessar and Prince Legolas that we did all that we can do."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Túrin flashed a fellow guard a grateful smile as the Man kept him from falling on his face in the fresh mud. "Thanks," said the young guard.

"What?" shouted the other Man over the sound of the pouring rain.

"I said thank you!" yelled Túrin. "By the Valar, I didn't see that puddle!"

"It's a wonder that anyone can see or hear anything in this!" interjected their scouting group's designated leader. He did a cursory glace of the area where they were gathered, shook his head, and turned back to his Men, peering out at them from behind water droplets and soaked hair. "We can do no more good out here. We must go back!"

The rest of the guards nodded gratefully and murmured their agreement but Túrin bit his lower lip. "Sir, if I may," he said, rather embarrassed by the request he was making (even though it was fast becoming a necessity). "I have…business to take care of before we ride so far…"

"Go find a tree," ordered the leader, understanding but exasperated. "We'll wait for you here. Don't wander too far off, though, because we don't have the time to look for you!"

"Thank you, sir," said Túrin profusely, spinning on his heels and heading for a more heavily wooded and secluded area. It didn't take him long to find something that suited his purposes. Letting out a relieved sigh he positioned himself and went about his business.

He was just straightening up his trousers when a strange noise rang in his ears. 'Odd,' thought Túrin, but he figured that it was just the wind and the rain breaking small branches off of the trees and brush.

Then…'there it is again!' he realized, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the rustling noise. There was no mistaking it now: someone was out there, moving closer to him.

'The children!' was the first thought that came to Túrin's mind. However, he almost immediately had to discount that: it sounded like only one person and he refused to believe that any of the king and prince's scions would abandon each other, except in death. Nor could he assume that it was another member of his scouting party, as he hadn't been gone that long. So who was traipsing about in that awful weather? Túrin didn't know but he was suddenly feeling very exposed. Deftly he crouched down closer to the tree and discreetly started scanning the area.

An eerie silence fell upon him and the hair on the back of the young guard's neck stood on end. It felt like – like someone was standing behind him…. "Finally!" roared a furious voice as a large mass – a body – slammed itself into Túrin, knocking him forward. Hands were trying to restrain him, trying to pin him to the earth. "Foolish boy, attempting to run away from me! Just you wait until I get you alone with a whip, Eldarion" –

"Eldarion?" gasped Túrin. It was – it had to be – the former noble Tanondor who was attacking him! A surge of rage rushed through him and the guard expertly pushed Tanondor off of him, pinning him to the ground on his back and holding him in place with a hand on the throat. "And what were you planning to do to my prince with that whip?"

Tanondor's eyes widened as he gaped at the figure over him. He'd seemed smaller from behind and had hair the same length as that of the wayward boy so the former lord had just lunged forward without question. He certainly hadn't bargained on having to deal with an irate and well-trained young Gondorian but he was confident enough to believe that he could talk his way out of the situation. "Unhand me," Tanondor ordered importantly. "I am a lord of the realm of Gondor on an errand given to me personally by King Elessar."

"I think that murder and kidnapping nullifies any task that he had for you," sneered Túrin. "Now where are the prince and princesses?" When Tanondor tightened his mouth the young Man responded by tightening his grip. "I said: where are they?"

"I will answer no questions from the likes of you," scoffed Tanondor distastefully. "I am a nobleman and you are nothing but a lowly peon."

"Things change, Tanondor," taunted Túrin, smirking at how angrily red the disgraced lord's cheeks got when he left out that old title. "But still, you're right: why should you answer my questions when King Elessar and Prince Legolas have many for you too?"

With a malicious glint in his eyes Túrin let out a piercing whistle that he knew would carry over the sound of the rainstorm. Moments later the rest of the Men from their scouting party offshoot appeared, each one of them skidding to a halt and gaping when they saw who their colleague had in his custody. "Well, well – greetings to you, my good ex-lord," said the leader at length with scornful, exaggerated, and insincere politeness. "There are many people who wish to have a word with you."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Right off of the place where the guards had discovered the two diverging paths hours earlier sat a small gathering of tents. Their presence at the makeshift camp that the Men had established there was the Elladan and Elrohir's doing; once they, a wound-up Legolas, a confused-but-struggling-to-be-strong Aragorn, and the four hobbits had come across the guards and the dilemma of the trails they had delicately suggested going back to the city to get some sort of shelter before the rain started. Aragorn, his eyes never leaving his husband who was speaking to Thranduil and Gimli, had made some sort of noise that they'd interpreted as consent. By the time that they'd returned on their speedy elven horses Gimli was blubbering, Thranduil was ignoring the tears that were streaming down his face as he tried to comfort his son, and Legolas was still standing there with them even as his eyes were darting between the two paths as if he was trying to divine which one would lead him to his children.

The guards who were manning the camp had met the twins as they returned, anxious to do something more active and unwilling to burden their king and prince with menial labor in the face of so much tragedy. With Elladan, Elrohir, and the hobbits pitching in the tents were hastily assembled and raised in a tight circle formation. Thranduil, believing that Legolas needed to be out of the Men's sight before he could truly deal with his grief, had immediately escorted his son into the one for the royal couple and the rest of the family, lacking anything better to do, had followed, just a short time before the rain had begun to fall.

Aragorn now listened to the sound of raindrops cascading onto the tent-top; had he had the energy to do so he would have grimaced. The water was washing away the trails – soon it wouldn't matter which one his children were down because there would be nothing to follow. It felt as if the Valar were mocking him, tossing out more obstacles and increasing all of their grief with a malicious glee that he never before would have thought them capable of.

Then again, perhaps the Valar were grieving with them and finding it impossible to hold back their tears. Maybe they felt that they needed to cry enough for them and for Legolas too. Aragorn stared wearily across the tent to where his husband was sitting as his sense of helplessness grew exponentially. 'Please,' he begged. 'Please just let me find a way to make this better for him. I cannot bear to see him like this.'

In all of the years that they'd known each other Aragorn had never seen Legolas behaving in such a…cold way. In the past the elf had often been reserved, heeding his court training and not revealing too much about himself to many people; quiet when he felt that he needed to be; sullen and snippy, especially when he was angry at Aragorn and trying to control it; even devastated and downtrodden on a few occasions, such as when Mithrandir had fallen in Moria and when he'd found out that he'd been poisoned while pregnant with Eldarion; but never once had he acted even remotely like he was now. Thranduil was weeping and cradling his son's head against his shoulder, planting comforting kisses into his hair and Legolas was just staring out at nothing. If Aragorn was to guess how the elf was feeling at the moment he'd have to say that he was, well, irritated with the display of consolation and love.

'Did something break inside of him when our child died?' wondered Aragorn. If so, was there any way that he could fix it or would his dear husband stay permanently broken? The king couldn't stand the thought of having the person who was his love be nothing more than a shell for the rest of their existence. It would be worse than losing him to death because there would always be that tiny bit of hope that a miracle would happen to restore him repeatedly getting crushed in the face of reality.

Time dragged on as the hobbits huddled together for warmth and support, the twins waited outside with the guards on watch, Aragorn stared at his husband and brooded, and Legolas dealt with Thranduil's embraces and Gimli clutching at his hand. Then a chorus of excited shouts coming from outside jarred them out of their stupors. "What are they saying?" wondered Pippin.

"It's all jumbled up, with so many of them talking all at once," noted Sam, "but something's got them all in an uproar. I can go out and see what it is if you'd like, Strider."

"There's no need for that," Legolas replied for his husband as he unceremoniously pulled himself out of his father's arms and jerked his hand free from Gimli's. "Someone's coming; I can hear him."

Sure enough, not five seconds later the tent flap was thrown open and the guard Mardil entered without permission. "My king! My prince!" he cried, too full of fierce excitement and triumph to care about his breech in protocol. He stood before them and everyone could see how flushed his cheeks were from running and how badly his hands were shaking. "Our scouting party – we found him!"

"Which him?" asked Aragorn cautiously, not sure if he should be hoping that the answer was Tanondor or Eldarion.

"Tanondor, sir," replied Mardil, pausing between the words to spit after speaking the former lord's name. "He was all full of it too, attacking one of my Men without provocation; but it didn't take much for us to give him what-for. We brought him back to camp as soon as he was subdued."

"What" –

"Where are my children?" demanded Legolas, interrupting Aragorn as he stormed over to where his husband and the guard were standing. "Were they with him? Did you see any sign of them?" His expression darkened when Mardil, caught off-guard at his uncharacteristic blatant aggression, didn't say anything immediately. "Damn it, I asked you something!"

Aragorn gently placed his hands on either of Legolas' shoulders; he'd hoped that would calm him down a little but it only made the elf tense even more. "I want to know where my children are," snapped Legolas, shrugging the hands off. "That's not an unreasonable question…"

"We don't know, my prince," spoke up Mardil apologetically. Through Legolas' anger the Man could plainly see flickers of desperation and anguish in his eyes. He couldn't imagine what it was like to not know where his children were; and according to talk among the Men that he'd only heard in passing on his way to find the royal couple the reason for the prince's collapse that morning had not been good. As happy as he was to have some helpful news to report Mardil couldn't help but wish that he had something more. "They weren't with him and he refuses to tell us anything, let alone something that might help us locate them."

"Nothing?" pressed Aragorn.

"Nothing explicit," answered Mardil, withering a little under Legolas' persistent and icy stare. "However, according to the guard that he first attacked, Tanondor did indicate that Prince Eldarion at least had managed to escape him. From that and where we came across him on the trail I would guess that he was back-tracking; but we found no sign of the prince or princesses either with him or on the path."

"Thank you," said Aragorn grimly, his mind racing to many terrible places as he tried to figure out what this new information meant. He could dare to hope that his children had gotten away from their captor, but where were they now? In that awful storm? Did they have enough to eat or drink? Was the rain washing away whatever trail they were following, rendering them hopelessly lost?

Unfortunately, everything that he now knew was still too fragmented to piece together anything coherent. What he – and everyone else – needed was more complete answers and finally there was someone at the camp who could give them to him. "Escort Tanondor in here," he ordered, practically growling. "I will conduct a…private interrogation and he will cooperate."

An intense gleam came to Mardil's eyes. "Yes, King Elessar," he said promptly. While he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that he obviously wasn't going to get to witness what was about to happen he still got a spiteful thrill at the thought of it. Had he done anything as wicked as kidnapping the royal children the last people he'd want to face was their parents and family, especially when no one within screaming distance would so much as lift a finger to save him from their wrath. "I will bring him at once."

True to his word Mardil left and returned a few seconds later, followed closely by Tanondor. The once proud lord was covered with mud, his hair was snarled, his hands were tied behind his back, and he was being led about by a rope that had been tied around his neck as a leash. Obviously the guards who'd captured him had taken pains to see him humbled and humiliated; and Aragorn would have been inclined to chuckle had Legolas not made a move to charge at the sight of him.

"What have you done with them?" the elf growled furiously. "Tell me now!"

"Mardil, tie that traitor's leash to something secure and leave," ordered Aragorn as he grasped Legolas' arms in order to stay him. He could feel his husband's skin bristle at the touch but he refused to let himself be shaken off this time.

Legolas barely managed to control his urge to violently free himself from Aragorn's hold until after the guard had left. While the tent flap was still rustling he moved with lightening speed, pushing his husband with so much force that Aragorn stumbled back. "You heard me," he said threateningly. "Where are my children?"

"You don't have any children anymore," replied the fallen ex-lord in a calm and simple tone, too assured of his own righteousness to fully appreciate the situation that he was in. "You have betrayed the Lady Almarian and you have betrayed your own nature by doing something that hurt another. I know that you are better than that; the Valar do as well, and it was they who took them from you as payment for your misdeeds."

All the color drained from the elf's face, leaving it deathly pale. He stood absolutely still as he stared at Tanondor with a mixture of fury, horror…was that guilt that Aragorn was seeing as well? "You don't know what you're talking about, you insane viper," hissed Legolas.

The corners of the bound Man's mouth turned up slightly, breaking Legolas out of his stillness. In less than a second he sprang forward in an enraged fit and grabbed hold of Tanondor. "You are not the Valar!" he roared. "It is not up to you who get to have children and who doesn't!"

"My love!" shouted Aragorn, jumping into the fray to pull Legolas away from Tanondor before he knocked out or killed the Man, or hurt himself in the process. He got kicked in the leg and an elbow grazed his cheek but he managed to get the elf into a restraining embrace before too much damage was done. Legolas roughly jerked himself free but thankfully did not attack again.

"He is insane," declared Tanondor stupidly, nodding his head toward the glaring elf prince.

"Isn't it ironic how you can see something in others that isn't there when you refuse to see what is there in yourself?" asked Aragorn pointedly. Pulling himself totally together to play the role of the confident and in-control monarch, he crossed his arms and smirked nastily at the Man. "You've really stuck your foot in it, Tanondor. As a member of the Council you should know that I have little mercy inside for those who seek to harm the people that I love; my husband has chosen to advocate for a few of them in the past but it's not hard to see that you will not be one of them."

"I do not need mercy from either you or him," retorted Tanondor.

"If you truly believe that then you are a fool," declared Aragorn. "There is no way that you can talk or trick your way out of your punishment, and I have stripped you of the title that you might have looked to for protection. There is only one way that you can do anything to save your own skin right now, and that is cooperating with us fully and helping us to find the prince and princesses."

Tanondor looked him squarely in the eyes and Aragorn was unsettled to see that there was not the slightest hint of apprehension in them. "I know nothing of the prince and princesses that you speak of," the ex-lord said in a maddeningly steady tone. "I spent the day traveling with my four children. We were traveling out of Minas Tirith to get away from their former caretakers, who have been terribly spoiled them."

"You – you nazgul," seethed Legolas, leaping forward once more. Aragorn put out his hand but the elf shoved it away and seized Tanondor by the hair mercilessly. "If you ever refer to my children as yours again I'll see to it that I'm the one who administers your punishment; and I swear upon all that I hold dear that I'll make every second, every minute, every hour, every day of it hideously unbearable."

Tanondor's head recoiled a bit when Legolas suddenly let go, but other than that seemed to be unfazed still. "So you're planning on locking me into some dark, filthy, cold, and barren cell and throwing away the key," he stated in a bored voice. "What of it, really? If you knew anything about my life as it has been and my marriage you would know that I am not unfamiliar with any of those concepts. I fail to see what difference it would make having you as my jailor instead of that disobedient shrew of a wife of mine."

Aragorn let out a humorless laugh that sent a chill to almost everyone's blood. "You seem to have forgotten, or else have utterly dismissed, the fact that you have blood on your hands," he reminded the former lord harshly. "We know what you have done, Tanondor, and even a lifetime in the worst cell of Gondor wouldn't be sufficient enough punishment to begin to atone. There still must be a trial yet but as your judge I happen to know that unless something miraculous happens you are going to be executed."

"Executed?" A hint of fear crept into Tanondor's expression. While he disliked his life as it had been immensely but to lose all possible lives completely frightened him to his core. Clarity fought its way through the insane haze that had clouded his mind and he suddenly realized that it didn't matter if he'd renounced his connections to Gondor if the king and prince of the most powerful realm in Middle-earth had him in their custody.

"You're not so defiant anymore, are you?" taunted Aragorn.

"No…no, you can't execute me," said Tanondor dimly. "I haven't…you can't."

"Tell me where the prince and princesses are," commanded Aragorn coaxingly. "Help yourself by leading us to them."

"But I don't know where they are!" Tanondor burst out. Good Valar, if Eldarion's disobedience hadn't been annoying enough as it was now it was going to get the former lord killed! "I drugged their water, but apparently those wore off early and their after-affects only lasted a few moments if there were any at all. I was counting on them to stay asleep until we got to Dol Amroth, and I certainly wasn't expecting any resistance."

Aragorn watched him with stoic eyes. "Go on."

"Eldarion – Prince Eldarion – he tried to steal the cart and when I stopped him he started saying that he wasn't going to let me go anywhere near him or his sisters again," recounted Tanondor, who was lucid enough to omit the fact that he had been trying to cut the tips of the boy's ears off at the time. "He fought me, kicked me in an awful place, and knocked me out with a knife hilt," he added, pointed at a particularly ugly bruise on his forehead. "I was unconscious for awhile and when I finally awoke he, Princess Laurelin, and the babies were nowhere to be seen. I was searching for them when I was captured. Please, King Elessar: you must take into account that I did not harm any of the children when you judge me for Eärnil's death!"

Legolas stepped deliberately forward. The former lord cowered as much as his bindings would allow but the elf only stared at him, getting uncomfortably into his face. "You murdered my baby," he hissed.

"No, I didn't!" protested Tanondor fearfully. "The princesses were fine when last I saw them!"

"I had another baby," Legolas told him, placing one hand on his stomach. "I was pregnant; and the sight of Lord Eärnil's body and the knowledge that my children were at the mercy of his murder killed her. You killed her," he added, driving home the point. "Do you have anything else to say?"

Tanondor's eyes widened in horror as he realized that his fate was sealed. "No? Nothing else?" asked Legolas. "Well then, I don't see why I should have to look at your repulsive face any longer. Guards! Get him out of my sight!"

It didn't take the guards long to come, as they'd been hovering close to the tent in the hopes of hearing the king and prince cut Tanondor down to size. They entered solemnly, their mean glee dampened by the revelation of the miscarriage, and quickly dragged Tanondor away. Only when they'd left did Aragorn move to fill in the space between him and his husband. "Legolas," he began, wrapping his arms around him.

"Get off of me!" yelled Legolas, shoving his husband away from him. "What in Mordor did you think that you were doing?"

"Am I not even allowed to hug you anymore?" asked Aragorn, stung and incredibly hurt by Legolas' angry rejection. Their marriage had not been free from conflict by any means but even at their worst the Man had never doubted that Legolas loved him; now, however, it seemed as if he downright hated him.

"Not when you go around offering clemency to the Man that murdered our daughter!" Legolas shot back.

Aragorn's mouth dropped open in shock. "I" –

"Don't you dare try to deny it," said Legolas warningly. "I heard you with my own ears! You told him that there was a miniscule chance that he could avoid execution and then implied that you would spare him if he told you where Eldarion and the girls are! 'Help yourself', Aragorn?"

"I – I wouldn't have – I was just trying to get our children back alive and well," stammered a dumbfounded Aragorn. Surely Legolas knew him better than to think that he would actually spare the insane lord's life?

"But one of our children is already dead because of him!" roared Legolas. He didn't care that his family was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind, nor about the way that his father was ever so slowly inching toward him. All that mattered to Legolas at that moment was how quickly and uncaringly Aragorn appeared to be dismissing their dead daughter. "You forgot about that, didn't you? Elbereth, you probably think that it's a good thing that she's dead because now you can use it as leverage against Tanondor! You just don't care about her at all, do you?"

The Man paled. "You know that's not true," he said.

"No I don't," snapped Legolas stubbornly. "You haven't done anything to prove it. Tell me, Aragorn: is it only with her murder that you're willing to compromise or do you have a sliding scale for all of our children? Oh, losing one who hadn't been born means nothing; Meren and Gilraen are only a month old so you aren't too strongly attached to them yet; Laurelin's been around for a few years so you might be a bit upset if anything happened to her; and you might be able to bring yourself to really care if Eldarion is killed. Do you have that pretty much right?"

"Legolas," gasped Thranduil, staring in horror at the snarling creature who'd apparently taken over his son's body."

"So you're going to take his side now?" asked Legolas incredulously. He looked at each person in the tent – all of whom were staring at him as if he'd gone mad – before letting his glare rest on Aragorn. His husband gave him the same look that someone who'd been kicked and spat on by everyone that he held dear would have. "Don't give me that 'poor me' expression. It's your fault. Our daughter's murder, the children's kidnapping" – his voice broke and he fought hard to swallow his tears –"I blame you for it all. It's your fault!"

Before Aragorn could respond to the hurtful remonstrations Legolas turned away and tore out of the tent. Instinct took over and the Man made a move to follow him but a hand suddenly grasped his own, gently discouraging that course of action. "Don't," advised Merry, squeezing sympathetically.

The hobbit watched with a strange expression on his face as his wife Estella exited the tent, presumably following the fuming elf. While Merry wasn't sure if it was the right thing for her to do he wasn't about to stop her. "There's nothing you can say that he's interested in hearing right now," he advised Aragorn knowledgeably. "It's best to just give him a little space to work through this part of it – trust me."

To be continued…