A fuming Legolas refused to feel anything but righteousness as he stormed outside into the pouring-down rain. He thought that he heard one of the hobbits – Merry, it sounded like Merry – say something but he'd said it too softly for it to be meant for Legolas. Well, that was just fine with the elf prince; he was sick of hearing his family trying to comfort him, scold him for speaking his mind, and generally just talking to him like he was one step away from a complete and permanent loss of his senses. The whole world was full of other places where he could be besides that tent and Legolas was resolved to go be in one of them until he was certain that everyone else would understand that he didn't want to hear anything that they had to say.

He was so busy stalking away and nursing his petulant thoughts that Legolas had walked all the way out of the circle of tents that made up the search base camp before he really realized where he was. Despite the fact that there was a lot of land surrounding him he didn't actually have a place where he could wait out the rain. With his mind so clouded with other thoughts instinct had taken over and he found that he'd been heading toward a stretch of wooded area nearby and Legolas was inclined to keep going there. The trees were close enough together that their branches might be able to provide him with adequate cover from the storm. Besides, he'd loved all manner of trees before he'd formed an attachment to any person (save his father); if anyone were to comprehend what Legolas really needed right now it would be them.

Yet…what if the trees tried to comfort him? Started telling him in their language how sorry they were for his loss? Started giving him advice about how he was supposed to pick up the pieces, carry on as if nothing happened, and grovel to Aragorn to forgive him for his outburst? Legolas almost snarled as he thought more and more about it. What did trees know about what he was going through, anyway?

Dimly – somewhere in the back of his mind – Legolas was aware that he didn't want to be surrounded by a bunch of sympathetic beings, be they people or trees. What he really wanted was to punch, break, slash, and scream until…well, until he didn't feel like doing those things anymore. It was a shame that if he were to scream it would probably just send everyone in the camp running to find him ('As if I need the guards' empty consolations and fruitless declarations on top of everything else!'); and if he was going to do any one of the former three he shouldn't be around trees. As sympathetic as most trees would be to a grieving wood elf none of them would take kindly to it if he acting out violently toward them.

With an annoyed growl Legolas turned around and started heading back to where he came from. When he got to the middle of the tent circle, however, he stopped short and crossed his arms stubbornly. Where was he going now? Back to the royal tent, to where all of them were: Sam, Merry, Pippin, Estella, Elladan, Elrohir, Gimli, his father…Aragorn? Would they expect him to come in with his head bowed in shame and his figurative tail between his legs like some errant child who'd run away from home but now had repented? Wouldn't they feel free to send him their piteous looks, whisper how worried they were about him amongst themselves, and say their meaningless soothing words to his face if that happened? And Aragorn…Aragorn would work twice as hard to pretend that he had the power to fix everything if the elf went back in there now. Well, no thank you – Legolas would take standing out in the torrential downpour any day over having to put up with any more of that.

'Besides,' Legolas thought bitterly, staring at the tent contemptuously without caring about how sullen and contrary he might be acting, 'they don't want me in there with them anyway. They're all probably too preoccupied with consoling Aragorn to tolerate dealing with my presence. Poor, poor, true-hearted Aragorn: first he has a husband who loses a baby and now he has to deal with said husband's crazy and unreasonable outbursts. No, they don't want that crazy husband in there, where he'd have yet another chance to hurt Aragorn's feelings. After all, Aragorn had had a difficult day.'

Forget that! If all of them were going to take up his space and make him feel like he couldn't stay in his own tent he might as well return the favor. If he knew anything about the protocol that the guards would have followed when they set up all of the tents - and he did – then he knew that there should be at least one unoccupied tent – one that was designated for the family of the king and prince. Seeing that they were so hung up on Aragorn's woes at the moment the elf decided that would be the one place where he could both escape the rain and be alone. With his mind made up Legolas walked slowly around the edges of the circle, pausing outside of each to listen for any sounds that would indicate that someone was in there.

It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. The tent was a little too close to the one for him and Aragorn to make him completely satisfied – but then again, the way that he was feeling the Shire was too close to there – but thankfully the guards, who knew how much the king and prince valued their privacy, had taken care to put some distance between them. The only aspect that the elf truly cared about at the moment was that there was no one in it. The lack of rain was a bonus.

Legolas marched inside moodily and sat down hard on the floor. 'No good,' he decided seconds later. If he stayed in one place with nothing to occupy his mind he'd start thinking about – no, he wouldn't let himself do that! He slammed his fist down against the dirt, leapt to his feet, and began pacing about. There had to be something in there that he could use to busy his hands and distract his mind.

There! In one of the corners there sat a small pile of wood; firewood that was placed in there in preparation for the storm no doubt, but the reason why it was there didn't matter to Legolas. He snatched up one of the medium-sized logs and rolled it around in his grasp. Carve something – he was going to carve something so delicate and intricate that he wouldn't be able to help not thinking about anything else but what he was working on. Satisfied, Legolas sat down again with his back leaning up against a cot, pulled out one of his sharp white knives, and started whittling away.

"H-hello." Legolas' head snapped up to find Estella standing just outside, pushing aside the tent flap so that she could look in at him. When she saw that she had his attention she gave him an awkward and nervous wave. "May I come in?"

"Why not?" replied Legolas gruffly as he shifted the wood and the knife to one hand and began to rise. "It's your tent, after all. I'll get out of your way."

"Actually I was wondering if…if I could speak with you," requested the hobbit lass in a slightly trembling voice as she stepped inside. This was going to be harder for her than she'd thought that it was going to be. "Or I could just talk, if you don't feel like saying anything back."

"They sent you, didn't they?" demanded Legolas harshly. He plunged right into a tirade without giving her an opportunity to answer the question or considering that Estella most likely wouldn't be his family's first choice of a liaison if they really had sent someone to lecture him. "You're here to tell me that I should stop behaving like I have any business mourning for my murdered baby when it makes Aragorn feel like everything he says and does isn't completely perfect. I bet you think that I should get on my hands and knees, crawl to Aragorn's feet, and beg for his forgiveness for being so demanding and unpleasant to be around after the day he's had, don't you? Well, I wouldn't count on it."

Estella shifted her weight nervously. She wished that she'd had the chance to meet Legolas during a happier time in his life – perhaps then she could have pictured that nice, smiling person that Merry and their friends liked so much. As it was, she only had the image of the elf stressed and worried about his family's safety to contrast with the snappish figure in front of her. "No, it's nothing like that," she insisted, grasping the sides of her skirt to keep from wringing her hands. "I just thought that you needed someone to talk to."

"Look, I really don't mean to offend you," said Legolas stiffly, "but even if I did need someone to talk to – and that's not the case at all – what makes you think that I would choose to open up to you? The fact that you're here in itself tells me that you know absolutely nothing about me."

"You might be surprised," Estella told him in a kind tone.

"I don't believe this," complained Legolas disgustedly. "Out of all the family at this camp – out of all the family, period – you are the person that I know the least. While I admit that I've been too busy worrying about my children's safety" – he choked a little and blinked rapidly – "to play the proper host, you haven't exactly been open and friendly either. Why you feel obliged to start reaching out now is beyond me; and I don't know what you could say that I'd be in hearing, or why I should listen."

"Because I don't feel particularly obligated to dig around for the correct magical words that would make you feel like yourself again," replied Estella, hesitantly crossing over the space between them and slowly sitting down next to the elf. His carving sped up and became more reckless but she made a point of trying to ignore that. "At times it's nice not to talk about anything at all. I could just sit here and watch you make – what are you making?"

Legolas looked down at the log. He'd been so careless in his carving that the intricate design he'd planned out in his mind had been lost under several broad strokes of the knife that had left one end of the wood coming up to a thin point. "Something pointy," he informed her shortly.

"Your 'something pointy'," continued the hobbit. "I might find myself talking about the weather or news from the Shire but you don't have to listen if you don't want to."

"Good," muttered Legolas darkly.

"And," started Estella, biting her lower lip. Should she push this far so soon? But then again, what she had to say would be moot if she waited until he was in a good mood (assuming, of course, that a good mood would come again without him having a little outside help). There was no reason to be a coward; after all, she'd been through worse than having an elf yell at her. "And if you happen to want to say anything, I'll be here. Don't even worry about saying something too mean or anything like that; I understand" –

Legolas slammed down his log, making her jump. "I am so tired of those words," he ranted. In the back of his mind he knew that this had been the first time that Estella had said those hated words to him and she didn't deserve to be stuck at the end of a tirade that was really meant for other people. Still, he'd given her ample warning that he wasn't in the mood for company; he was so wound up that snapping viciously and often was inevitable and he wasn't feeling too concerned with controlling it. "Everyone understands! Elbereth, with the way people keep going on about it you would think that having four of your children kidnapped by an insane stalker/murderer and your fifth murdered before she had the chance to live are common experiences."

"I doubt that many people have been in the position that you're in now, if any have been at all," said Estella desperately, trying to keep the conversation flowing but under control. "But there are people who can relate" –

"Please," he snorted. "What do you know about losing a child?"

Estella's cheeks flushed red. Being polite obviously wasn't working; perhaps bluntness would be more effective. "More than most of them do!" she retorted, gesturing blindly in the direction of the royal tent. "You are not the first person in the history of Middle-earth to have a miscarriage, Legolas! You're not even the first person in this family!"

"What?" asked Legolas, taken totally off-guard. His grip on the knife slackened and it thudded to the ground as he started at her in astonishment. "You mean that you" – she nodded sadly –"but when?"

"It happened a little over a year ago," she told him as she tried to maintain her composure. It was a difficult task, seeing that the wounds still felt fresh. "I was about three months along at the time."

"I didn't know anything about this!" blurted out Legolas. He suddenly felt like a terrible person for being so thoughtlessly sarcastic and mean to her just then.

"I didn't expect you to," she countered. "We never told anyone, save our parents, Sam and Rosie, and Pippin and Diamond."

"Why not?" asked Legolas. "I know that the rest of us wouldn't have been able to come into the Shire to be there for you two all of the time, but we still would like to mourn with you in times like that. We didn't even know that you were pregnant in the first place."

The hobbit lass smiled sadly at him. "We didn't know that I was pregnant for too long before…before it happened," she explained. "We'd only just gotten around to telling our parents; and you know Merry – he can't keep a secret from Pippin and Sam for a week, and that's when he's really trying. I'm just thankful that neither of them told their children about it; I can't imagine having to explain what happened to one of them. By the time we were composing our announcement letter for all of you out here I wasn't pregnant anymore and there didn't seem to be any reason to tell you about something that wasn't going to happen."

"I'm…I'm so sorry," said Legolas for lack of anything better to say. The irony of finding himself struggling to say the right words to someone who had lost her child was not lost on him.

She looked him straight in the eyes and nodded. "So am I," she said; and he understood that she was sorry both for her own loss and for his. With a sigh she turned her gaze down to her lap where her hands laid together, clasped. "Thank you for not trying to say something profound, too. I do understand why you got so upset in the other tent, Legolas: it still makes me furious how everyone seemed to think that they knew exactly how to make everything better after it happened."

"Doing and saying things that they thought were comforting when they were really the coldest, cruelest, and stupidest actions and words ever?" questioned Legolas softly.

"Pretty much every word that fell out of their mouths fit that description," groaned Estella. While she was there to help Legolas through his anger and grief, it was also nice for her to have someone to vent to that would know how she felt. "I think the worst was when my mother told me that I could always have more children. As if I could just walk to a store or some other nonsense and pick another baby up off of a cart! That's exactly what I told her, too, and she got so upset. I didn't care."

"Ioreth – the healing woman who brought in my clothing before that final examination in the Houses of Healing – told me that maybe if I had to lose the baby it was better for me to lose her now," recalled Legolas, miserable at the memory but surprisingly relieved to have someone to share it all with that meant it when she professed to understand. "Like I wouldn't know what I was missing if I'd never had it in the first place! In a way, that just makes it worse. If I'd gotten to know her…change her diaper…see her smile for the first time…feed her…hear what her laughter and her cries sounded like…if I just had a face to picture whenever I thought about her…"

Estella rested her hand on his shoulder as his head bowed. "I don't have any memories – happy or sad – with her," he said tearfully. "All I have are a lot of questions that will never have answers. There isn't even a body that I can bury."

"No real closure," whispered Estella understandingly. "Just a lot of 'what-ifs'; just little faces and voices that haunt us that we don't know are what would have been or our imaginations torturing us."

"Exactly," agreed Legolas, wiping his eyes. A surge of anger flowed through him as he thought about how this person – this virtual stranger – knew more about him than his own husband. "And a whole lot of people hovering around, talking at you like they can begin to understand what you're going through. Honestly, why can't they simply keep their mouths shut?"

"I know," she commiserated, keeping a close eye on Legolas' expression as she pressed on to test the boundaries of their conversation further. "I felt that way about Merry most of all. Every word he said, everything that he did – it was as if he was going out of his way to infuriate me. At the worst points I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him."

"I can relate to that," Legolas told her darkly.

"You know, during the whole time that he was away during the War out here not a day went by that I didn't wish that I could see him, if only for a moment," remembered Estella, her tone free of deeper meanings even when her intentions weren't. Legolas heeded not her tone or her intentions; he was too busy fighting back memories of the years that he and Aragorn spent apart before the forming of the Fellowship. "Then he came back with so many bad memories that took him a few years to sort through before we could get married; it felt like we'd finally stepped into the light after years of darkness and waiting and I believed that no matter what else happened that I would always be happy that he was around."

Legolas tensed a little. "I never thought that the day would come that I couldn't stand the sight of him; when the sound of his voice grated on my nerves," the hobbit lass continued. "He was only trying to be strong for me but I couldn't see anything but what he was doing wrong. I think – I know that it was so much easier to yell at him and blame him than to" –

The elf inhaled loudly through his nose. "I know what you're trying to tell me and you're wrong," he stated emphatically. Why, when he was finally talking to someone who could actually comfort him, did they have to bring the conversation around to the topic of Aragorn? "You might have had no real cause to blame your husband for what happened to your baby but I have more than enough reasons to blame mine. He trusted that monster and refused to think for himself; he didn't listen to me when I told him that I was having reservations about testing the guards' supposed guilt so dramatically; and – and he just stood there with his mouth hanging open when I was in so much pain that I couldn't move. Elrohir had to take time away from trying to save my baby to coax him into doing anything of use!"

"I didn't know that the lords knew that you were pregnant," said Estella diplomatically.

"Fine," snapped Legolas irritably. "Perhaps they weren't focusing solely on saving my baby but they were at least doing something to help me. He wasn't there for me."

"Merry told me that you yelled at Strider to leave you behind and pursue the children," pointed out Estella softly. "Maybe he was just having a hard time figuring out who needed him more – you or them."

Why was she doing this to him? "What, are you trying to make up for the fact that you don't have any salt to rub into my open wounds?" shot back Legolas. But her words had struck a raw deeper than she even intended to reach. He wanted her to leave him alone; as long as she wasn't there reminding him of the truth he could go on stubbornly blaming Aragorn and he didn't have to face it…

"It seems easier," said Estella wisely, noting how his voice was starting to crack. The breaking would be painful but this was one of those times when something had to be broken before it could be fixed. "But in the end all of those feelings fester inside of you until even you don't remember why you got so bitter and angry in the first place Oh Legolas, I'm not going to lie to you: it's going to hurt if you let it all out, but you'll feel so much better afterward."

"There is nothing to let out," protested Legolas fiercely, but tears were spilling from his eyes. He shook his head violently as he wiped them away. "I have every reason to blame Aragorn for what happened to my baby! I'm so angry at him that I can't see straight! I – I hate him!"

Damn it; why couldn't he stop crying? "I mean it – I really do! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him," he repeated, losing more and more conviction each time that he said it. His throat constricted and a loud, choked sob escaped. "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate…I hate myself. Oh Elbereth, it was my fault and I will never stop hating myself for it!"

The utter despair in those last words combined with the fact that he'd finally voiced his deepest shame caused Legolas to break down completely. Estella hugged him as he poured out his agony. "I was her ada," he sobbed. "I was supposed to provide her with a place where she could grow until he could survive in the world outside and all I gave her was about a month."

"It was no more your fault now than it was mine a year ago," said Estella soothingly.

"Yes, it is," Legolas cried. "I fell into the role of a dutiful and subservient spouse and lost the part of me that was strong enough to protect them when Aragorn wasn't acting like himself. Then…then on the field I tried to ignore my pain so I could keep looking for the other children, and when that didn't work I tried to send away anyone who could help me because I thought that I could just join the chase again after it passed. How could I have decided that one of my children's lives wasn't as important as those of the other four? Tanondor – he of all people was right: the Valar did see fit to take her – to take them all – away from me as punishment for failing her so utterly."

"Begging your pardon, but that's a big load of nonsense," Estella told him, sounding full of good hobbit sense. "Those Valar that everyone keeps talking about don't seem to be the type to go around taking children to teach their parents a lesson. Sometimes, Legolas; sometimes there are more direct reasons for it – like falling or stress or things like that – but the truth is that life can be horribly cruel at times and it's not really anyone's fault. Awful, isn't it?"

"Tell me about it," concurred Legolas, wry through his misery.

It sounded like he was on his way to starting to feel somewhat normal again. "You're not alone, Legolas," Estella reminded him. "There are a lot of people who want to help you through this; you just need to guide them through how they can do that."

"If I haven't completely alienated them by now," groaned Legolas. He sniffled. "I was so rude to Ada and Gimli when they tried; I ignored Merry, Sam, and Pippin totally; I threatened the twins; and Aragorn…Elbereth, I was such a thoughtless coward, blaming him simply to avoid dealing with how I really felt. He must despise me now! "

"I'm not so sure about that," said Estella nicely. "No one expects you to be perfect all of the time, at least not those who really care about you. Strider – Aragorn – he loves you in your worst moments as well as your best."

Legolas choked out a little laugh. "He used to tell me that his favorite parts of me where the ones that everyone else would consider to be imperfect," he said. The elf buried his face in his hands. "I doubt that will apply now. How can I face him again?"

"I haven't been able to hold a baby since I miscarried," admitted Estel suddenly. "I'll make you a deal: if you can find it in yourself to talk to Strider now I will hold both of your twins when they, Eldarion, and Laurelin are found safe and sound."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Eldarion finally managed to untie both of the knots that had secured the two slings. It was comforting to know that they had both been so secure, but now he needed the blankets to act as, well, blankets. Draping one of them over Gilraen and Meren's baskets he sighed and looked around him. The underbrush he'd found for them to wait out the storm under was thick enough to help keep out most of the rain but a little extra shelter and warmth never hurt. Maybe he shouldn't be risking getting the blankets any more wet – the boy was sure that the babies wouldn't appreciate being lugged around in something damp – but he was too exhausted to try to think up an alternative. If it was going to be a problem it was just going to have to be a problem that he dealt with the next day.

"You should try to get some rest," he told Laurelin, handing her the other blanket as he sat down close to the covered baskets. "Don't worry; I'm going to stay awake. I'll keep watch until morning."

"All right," agreed Laurelin quietly. He expected her to stretch out on the ground next to him but instead she surprised him by curling up in his lap and throwing the blanket across the both of them. A few moments of silence passed before she spoke again. "Some day, huh?"

Eldarion couldn't help laughing a little. "Yeah," he agreed as he put his arms around her. His little sister snuggled against him and he rested his chin on the top of her head. "But we got through it all right. I'm very proud of the way that you acted today."

"Thank you," she said. She wanted to say that she was proud of him too, but it didn't seem right for her to say that to him so she let her mind turn to a new topic. "Eldarion, will you tell me a story?"

"Sure," he agreed. "Do you have one in mind?"

"The one that Papa mostly tells but Ada helps out with," she requested. "That one's my favorite. Do you know it?"

The boy looked down at her. "The one that starts with the little boy who was different?" he asked. Laurelin nodded. "I know it; it's one of my favorites too."

Laurelin gave him all of her attention as he began: "Once upon the time there was a little boy who was different from everyone else around him. But he was happy too: he had a father who loved him, two brothers, friends, and a very good home in his very good life. He was so happy that he didn't notice that anything was missing."

"Then one day an elf from another land came to be a guest in his home. The little boy was so afraid that he tried to hide because his brothers told him that the visiting elf was very mean and wouldn't like him" –

"I shall have to have a little talk with your brothers about that," chimed in Laurelin, doing her best to imitate Legolas' voice. Eldarion raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, you're doing Papa's part. Someone has to do Ada's part."

Eldarion grinned at her. "Good point," he said. Then he continued with the story: "When the elf finally arrived the little boy did everything that he could to stay out of his sight. But the thing that he was hiding behind was his father's body and his father wouldn't let him stay there. Between his father's urgings and the supposedly mean elf's nice voice the little boy was eventually coaxed out. When he came out of hiding he saw that the elf wasn't mean at all but the kindest and most beautiful person ever" –

"Aw, that's sweet," said Laurelin in Legolas' role, kissing her brother on the cheek.

–"and that his brothers were lying dung beetles. It was then that the little boy fell in love for the first, last, and only time in his life. But the little boy was still little and the elf knew that he needed to become a grown-up and do some grown-up things before they could get married. The elf and the little boy had to say goodbye; it was hard and they didn't see each other again for eleven years."

"By that time the little boy was a young Man and when the visitor saw that he was now grown-up he fell in love. But the elf's father knew that his son was very, very special and didn't want him to marry just anyone – it had to be to someone very, very special too. The young Man vowed to become that very, very special person" –

"You already were that person," spoke up Laurelin again.

–"and he set out to do just that. Several years passed when the two didn't see each other for more than a few hours at a time."

"Finally, the most important of all the tests came and the Man – he wasn't so young anymore – and the elf reunited to face it together. It was a long and dangerous road, full of hard times and grief, but they got through them together. At the end of it the Man passed and the elf's father knew that not only was he special enough to marry his son but also that his son would only be happy if he married him. So the two of them married in a very romantic and important ceremony and they were happy. Now, this is where most tales end; but theirs went on."

"Thank Elbereth for that," said Laurelin in her best 'Ada' voice.

"You see, the Man and the elf had a special kind of love, the kind that makes miracles happen. No one thought that they could have children; but they loved each other so much that they were blessed with them anyway. And so the former little boy who had a father who loved him grew up to be a Man who was a father who loved his own children as well as the elf; and he was happy."

"And did they live happily ever after?" asked Laurelin, now asking the question that she, like her brother before her, always asked.

Many leagues away the elf walked through that same rainstorm, his normally light stepped made heavy by his misery and remorse, to a tent that he'd stormed out of earlier that night. Inside the Man sat with a hobbit as he struggled to understand what his beloved husband needed from him during this dark time in their lives. But Eldarion and Laurelin didn't know about any of this; all they knew was how the story had ended every time since the first time that Aragorn had told it. In one voice the two children said – just like their fathers always did: "That's what they work on every day."

To be continued…