A/N: A short conversation between Aragorn and Elrond is featured in this chapter; while it's not technically a flashback, it does take place before the events here. Therefore it's italicized, although it's not set apart in any other way.

It had been six long weeks since the wedding when he made his foolish promise to stay and Legolas Greenleaf laid on his bed, staring that the ceiling in his chamber in the citadel of Minas Tirith. He didn't know how long he'd been like that, so occupied his mind was with summoning enough courage to do what he'd been terrified to do all evening. There was no reason why he should put this off anymore – after all, he already somehow knew what he'd find – but actually making the effort to confirm it…. It felt like as long as he didn't know it wasn't real; when he accepted his condition, however, his life would never be the same.

'Stop this! You are neither a coward nor a child,' Legolas scolded himself. He winced at the last word he'd used but refused to acknowledge the reaction. It was too real, much too real. 'If this is truly what you've begun to suspect it is then there's nothing that you can do about. Pretending that nothing has happened certainly won't help very much, at any rate.'

Even as he struggled to handle what he had to do, he really didn't want to. What he wanted to do was flee from the citadel, from that accursed city, and hide somewhere until the situation was somehow magically made right again. Elbereth, hadn't he already endured enough heartache and torment? It had been a little over two months since his relationship with Aragorn had come to its abrupt end and yet it still seemed to him like it had just happened. Of course, spending one and a half months as his former lover and his new wife's guest, forcing himself to pretend that he was happy and all was well, wasn't making matters more bearable.

Legolas' days had become remarkably similar and always dreary. He awoke every morning, later and later each day, to attend the morning meal where he acted as if he hadn't lost the love of his life. He smiled as the hobbits regaled him with tales of their adventures during the War, what they'd done since the coronation, and what they were planning on doing to keep them out of trouble (or rather, what was going to get them into trouble) that day. He traded barbs with Gimli, playfully taunting the dwarf about his promise to accompany Legolas to Fangorn Forest one day. He even made it a point to join in – as much as he could bear to, at least – when Elladan and Elrohir dropped less-than-subtle teasing hints to Aragorn and their sister about – about their new roles and duties as each other's husband and wife.

Legolas choked back a sob, closing his eyes tightly to keep himself from weeping, as he remembered the conversation at breakfast just that morning. He'd been picking at him food when Elladan let out an especially crude remark about "hearing loud grunts emanating from the royal bedchamber" before asking if they were "practicing their combat moves" and giving a rather suggestive wink. Thank Elbereth that everyone was too busy laughing to notice how he dropped his spoon and lost control of the cry that tore from his lips. It was heartbreaking enough to know what Aragorn and Arwen were doing at night – joining their bodies…her feeling him within her …him touching her in the same ways that he used to touch Legolas only a couple of months earlier; hearing about it – even when it was just teasing suggestions – made him want to scream out his despair from the pinnacle of the White Tower.

The worst part of it, though, was the way in which Aragorn and Arwen responded to the twins' ribbing. The Man would always give them a secretive little smile and pat her hands (which was always lingering on his arm). She would then, always on cue, blush modestly and beam because, well because they were doing exactly what Elladan and Elrohir were so tactlessly asserting that they were doing every night. They had to be. Most newlywed couples, especially those who'd been required to wait for as long as they had, tended to indulge to the point of gluttony in that very activity in the weeks following the wedding. Even if Aragorn's heart wasn't in it he surely wouldn't want to hurt Arwen's feelings or rouse her suspicions by refusing.

'Who knows?' a treacherous voice in his mind taunted him. 'Maybe he can't wait until it's time to go to bed every night because he wants to be with her. How do you that you weren't just a distraction during the War and that he was planning on leaving you even when you first made love?' Legolas had been trying to ignore that voice for awhile now, logically knowing that it was but a result of his continuing grief; yet at times he couldn't help wondering if it was right. The very thought had made him nauseous for weeks.

'Well,' he corrected himself grimly, 'it's at least part of the reason why I've been so sick to my stomach lately.' Legolas' physical and mental health had been deteriorating to the point that he was shocked that no one had mentioned anything about it to him. A general exhaustion had taken hold of him. If he continued his pattern of sleeping later and later he would end up missing one of the torturous morning meals pretty soon; and all of that extra sleep didn't appear to be enough since he had started retiring earlier each night. He no longer bothered to tie his hair back into the traditional warrior braid. 'The War is over and the Enemy is vanquished – what need is there for me to look like I'm ready to go into battle in a world of peace?' had been his excuse when Merry and Pippin started questioning him about it in their innocently curious way, but in truth he couldn't conjure up enough energy each morning to do it. His days were filled with nothing but aimless wandering about the city, trying to avoid people and engaging in half-hearted conversations with those who managed to corner him. The once-proud and always-ready elf was quickly turning into a pensive, depressed introvert.

Unbeknownst to him, Legolas' rapidly deteriorating condition had not gone unnoticed by those around him. Everyone could see him falling apart although it took a long time for any of them to mention it for very much the same reason why the elf prince was so reluctant to acknowledge his condition now: once they'd given voice to their fears that Legolas was fading it would somehow become real. It had finally been Pippin who'd had the courage – or frightened bluntness – to bring it up one morning as he and the others were waiting for Legolas to arrive. Once the words "Does anyone know what's wrong with him?" left the young hobbit's lips the floodgates were opened and everyone spoke at once.

Over the frenzied conversations of everyone's speculations Elladan and Elrohir had shared with them what they'd told Legolas about the attacks on Mirkwood and his reactions to them. This was all new to the hobbits and Gimli (the latter becoming even more worried when he realized that his dear friend hadn't confided in him) and even Arwen, who knew enough about Legolas' nature to guess at how he'd responded when he heard the news, hadn't realized how badly he'd taken it. With Aragorn and Elrond remaining unusually silent everyone had agreed that this was the reason for the elf's uncharacteristic behavior. After a few disagreements as to how much they should do directly to help him through this difficult time, they'd decided that everyone should treat him as normally as possible while keeping an extra sharp eye out for evidence that he'd taken a turn for the worse.

Aragorn had caught Elrond's eye while he was nodding along to all of this and the elf lord inwardly cringed to behold what he saw there. The new king was clearly beside himself with worry; he was afraid of losing Legolas and regretting leaving him in the first place. That choosing to be with Arwen might actually kill his real love had never crossed Aragorn's mind before and Elrond was concerned that his foster son was about to do something rash. As soon as the meal ended, he'd pulled Aragorn into the king's private office to talk.

"I've done this to him," Aragorn had lamented as soon as the door closed behind them. "This cannot continue, Ada; I can't put him through this anymore. It's killing him."

Elrond had immediately known that what he'd feared was about to come true. "Legolas is strong," he'd tried to reassure him. "But even the mightiest of warriors cannot recover instantly from so great a loss. He will be fine in time, as time mends all wounds."

"You know from personal experience that isn't always true," Aragorn had countered savagely, not caring at the moment that alluding to Celebrian in such a callous way might hurt Elrond. "He doesn't need time; he needs me."

"Do you wish to abandon your wife then? Are you going to humiliate and reject her after she gave up her life and her people to be with you?"

'Yes,' Aragorn had almost blurted out, but the elf lord's tone had stopped his tongue for several moments. "I suppose that is not an option," he'd finally answered reluctantly. "I made a vow to her and I will not break it. But it is Legolas that I love –"

"And you cannot have them both," Elrond had reminded him sharply. Aragorn had grimaced at that and the elf immediately checked his temper, allowing his face to soften as he continued. "I know that none of this has been easy for you and I'm truly sorry for it. But you of all people know Legolas – do you really believe that he would be happy if he left your wife to be with him? He and Arwen are like brother and sister; it would torment him to no end to know that he played any part in her eternal misery."

"I know this," sighed Aragorn. "But he's fading…"

"You don't know that," replied Elrond. "I promise you, Aragorn, that if I thought for a moment that Legolas was in danger of fading I would contact his father at once before putting him on the next ship to Valinor. He is strong, my son; just give him the time he needs to recover."

So Aragorn had done nothing. Had Legolas known about this he would have been glad for his love's decision. It saved him from having to choose between his own happiness and his desire never to betray one whom he still considered, in spite of everything, to be a sister and a friend. Like Elrond, he really didn't think that there was a chance that he was actually going to fade; and he was depending on time and his own strength to heal his emotional wounds. Or at least as best as they could be – Legolas held no illusions that he would ever fully recover from losing Aragorn after all that had happened between them.

As it happens, Legolas had been beginning to believe that the worst was over. Just earlier that that he'd been more excited than he'd been since the end of the War because Eomer had arrived at dawn's light. The king of Rohan had sent word ahead of him that he would only rest one day and then King Théoden's funeral procession would begin. The day that Legolas had been living for was going to be the very next day; only now the situation had become much more complicated…

It wasn't supposed to be that way. The solemn occasion was supposed to give Legolas an opportunity to escape his current predicament. No more sitting at the same table as Aragorn and Arwen as smiled about their nocturnal activities; he would no longer have the chance to torture himself by wondering if any of the noises he heard at night were coming from their bedchamber. After all, the only official reason he'd been staying in the White City was because he wanted to pay his respects to the fallen king. When Theoden was finally laid to rest, Legolas fully intended to hold Gimli to his word to explore Fangorn with him. No matter how much turmoil he was going through, he refused to release the dwarf from his part of their bargain; it might even do him a lot of good, now that he thought about it, to be in that wonderful place with the person he'd come to call his best friend. The trip into the forest would also give Aragorn and the royal party plenty of time to ride back to Minas Tirith and Legolas wouldn't technically have to leave his love behind. After he emerged from Fangorn and bid farewell to Gimli, Legolas had planned on traveling back to Mirkwood with all haste. There his father, people, and realm would have more than enough tasks to occupy himself with. In all of these plans Legolas had always been absolutely certain about one thing: no matter what else happened he would never, ever set foot in Minas Tirith again once he left it.

It had been a good plan and probably what was best for himself, Aragorn, and Arwen. Unfortunately, when he heard that Eomer had returned he'd been so relieved that he'd lost control of his feelings for a moment; when that happened he'd noticed something about himself that his misery must have been blocking out. He'd instantly blocked it out again, but now it was on his mind and he could not forget it. And his plan…it still might work, if what he thought had happened actually hadn't.

Well, he wasn't going to get anything more than increasing anxiety if he put off his self-examination any longer. Exhaling deeply, he placed his hands on his stomach and forced himself to relax. With all of his senses tuned into what was going on inside of his body Legolas searched. He could feel…a presence there, a fragile soul, and heard –

"Dear Elbereth, no," he breathed as the sound of a heartbeat that was within him and yet not his own echoed in his ears.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Insistent – almost frantic – pounding on his bedchamber door woke Elrond abruptly out of his slumber. He wasn't terribly upset about it, for he was having a troubling dream about a vessel that held within it something that had the power to alter the lives of everyone he held dear. Still, he couldn't say that he was thrilled about the rude awakening either. "Yes, yes, I heard you," he mumbled, climbing out of his nice, warm bed to see who'd found it necessary to disturb him. "Are you aware that it's the middle of the – Legolas?"

The elf prince stood on the other side of the door in a shocking state. His face was totally devoid of what color it had; his hair was disheveled as Elrond had never believed it could be, tangled and flying free; and his entire body was visibly trembling. "I apologize for my intrusion, Lord Elrond," he stated hurriedly, glancing from side-to-side as if fearful that someone was going to see them together. "I do know how late the hour is and I normally wouldn't dream of bothering you, but I fear that what I need to speak to you about cannot wait."

"What is it?" inquired Elrond, trying to keep the relief out of his voice. No matter what terrible thing had happened to bring Legolas to his door, at least the young elf had just spoken more words now than he had in the last few weeks that weren't aggressively coaxed out of him. In his mind it had to be a good sign. "Has there been an urgent message of some kind? Does someone in the city need my aid?"

Legolas started to shake his head before he thought about it and slowly nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so," he said. His voice cracked a little. "I need for you to examine me."

One of Elrond's hands instinctively flew to Legolas' forehead, feeling for the tell-tale coolness of the skin that would signal that the fading process had begun. At the same time his other hand he gently but firmly took hold of the prince's arm in case he collapsed on the spot. Legolas' knees didn't give out, nor did he feel cold in any way but Elrond wasn't about to take any chances. "Come in, come in," he urged, carefully pulling on the younger elf's arm while cursing himself. How could he have been so lax and uncaring, turning a blind eye to Legolas' suffering just because he didn't want to believe how that Aragorn marriage would affect him so deeply? "I want you to lie down while I get Elladan and Elrohir to assist me."

"No!"

Elrond was alarmed at the force of Legolas' refusal. "Listen to me," he said more sternly. "I would feel better if there were others here to help me examine you; how could I ever face your father again if I missed something in my drowsiness? Ai Elbereth, your father! I should send word to him as soon as possible."

"Don't, please!" Legolas' cry now sounded almost frightened. "Don't call on the twins or anyone else, send nothing to my father, and we cannot do the examination here. I beg you, my lord; I need you to come with me to my bedchamber now and speak of this to no one!"

"Legolas," moaned Elrond, tired, worried, and just plain exasperated. He couldn't imagine what illness could have befallen the prince that would require so high a level of secrecy that any examination would have to be done away from his supply of healing herbs. "I am no ranger, as you well know; I don't have the equipment needed to carry my healing supplies around on my back on a moment's notice. I promise you that I will keep people out, but if you are as ill as you seem to be it cannot be kept a secret for long."

Legolas fell silent and Elrond was suddenly nervous: what if he'd just talked the blonde elf out of getting help. "I'm sure we can think up a good excuse for your illness, though," he added hastily. "Please, young Legolas; if you are really fading then we have no time to waste."

"I'm not fading, my lord," said Legolas with an utterly resigned dread that made Elrond's stomach sink. "I think I'm pregnant."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A short while later Elrond fell back into a chair that sat beside Legolas' bed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Legolas sat up on the bed, propping his elbow up on his knees and cradling his forehead as he watched the lord's reaction. "I take it that I was correct in my diagnosis," the younger elf mumbled dryly.

"You're pregnant, Legolas; I'd say about two months along, give or take a week or two," confirmed Elrond. He thought for a moment on how this new development was going to make this hideously painful situation all the worse. There was only one way that he could see this turning out all right. "Do you know who the sire is?"

"It's Aragorn!" snapped Legolas, louder than he should have but he couldn't hold it back. He glared at Elrond. "I've only ever been with Aragorn, Lord Elrond; I thought you knew me better than that."

"I do, and I'm sorry," said Elrond quickly, not wanting to upset him any further lest his shouts draw unwanted attention. "I guess I was just wishing that it wasn't."

"I'll have you know that I even know when it happened," Legolas continued to rage, his anger blocking out his better judgment. "This child must have been conceived the night we set out on the Paths of the Dead."

While his daughter hovered near death in Rivendell Aragorn and Legolas were creating a child; Elrond definitely didn't like the way he felt when he thought about that. "What do you plan on doing now?" he asked a little more coldly than what the situation called for.

"I don't know," replied Legolas incredulously. "All of this has come as a bit of a shock. It's not as if I intended to get pregnant."

"It's not," said Elrond in a tone that could either be interpreted as a statement of comforting confirmation or a question of whether or not he was telling the truth. The ambiguity of it made Legolas' skin chill. "Yet it has happened and now it must be dealt with. What are you going to do, Legolas?"

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut for a minute, hoping that the perfect solution would come to him. Sadly, all he could think about was whether or not other people would treat him like Elrond was at the moment. "I suppose I must tell Aragorn; it is his child, after all," he said slowly, watching the elf lord's reaction out of the corner of his eye. Elrond's eyebrows shot up but he gave no other clue as to what he thought about that.

It was easy for Legolas to fantasize about Aragorn's reaction: he would smile – a much more genuine smile than anything he'd given at those awful breakfasts – and tear up a little before taking the elf in his arms and vowing never to leave him again. Legolas wanted to so badly that he could almost feel the Man's arms around him; yet he knew that's all that it was – a fantasy. In reality Aragorn had made promises to Arwen and the people of Gondor; this child would more likely be an unwelcome complication than a blessing to him. "But – but nothing good would happen if I were to do so," Legolas went on.

"Perhaps you would be better off returning to your home," suggested Elrond tightly.

"I do want so badly to go back to Mirkwood." Legolas considered the possibility and his heart wrenched. "But it's not as if I can hide my condition there. Ada would demand to know who did this to me. He would find out eventually and there would be conflict between Mirkwood and Gondor. I – can't, Lord Elrond; I have no idea what to do."

"You could," began Elrond, but a lump in his throat seemed to be cutting off the words. He cleared his throat. "I have a number of herbs with me, Legolas, including ones that would – bring an end to pregnancies. You could take some and we could pretend that this never happened."

There it was: the answer that provided a tidy resolution. The answer that made all of his problems go away. The answer that made Legolas want to die as he thought about it. "I – I –"

"Of course it would be unwise to make any decisions right now," conceded Elrond. "It might do you well to sleep a little before you make up your mind. Take care, though, Legolas: if you're going to do this it would be best if you get it over with sooner rather than later. I will leave the herbs out on my nightstand; you can take them before breakfast if you wish."

"All right," said Legolas dully. "Good night, my lord."

"Get some rest," reiterated Elrond, and he left.

Legolas sat in that room after he departed, trying to stop himself from crying as he acutely felt how alone he was. Well, he supposed he wasn't completely alone – his hands flew to his stomach and he cringed. The last thing he wanted to do was kill the last little bit of Aragorn that he held claim to. He would surely die alongside the child if he took those herbs, but what else could he do?

'I could tell Aragorn,' he reminded himself, but he knew that none of the plausible outcomes to that would be good. At best Aragorn would set him and the child up in a house in the city, where the two of them could dwell while the people of Gondor gossiped about the king's lover and their illegitimate offspring. At worst Aragorn would reject them both wholly, either accusing Legolas of getting pregnant on purpose to ensnare him or claiming that he didn't believe that it was his child just like Elrond had done. Legolas couldn't bear either of those possibilities, or any of the ones that lay in between them.

Going to Mirkwood wasn't an option either. It would destroy his father to see him in this condition, abandoned by the one who did it to him. Thranduil would go on an obsessive quest to find out who did this to his son, questioning everyone who was around him at the time of conception until he discovered the truth. Then he would throw his troops into an ill-fated attack on Gondor so soon after the orcs had caused their devastation. Instead of being the one to defend his kingdom, Legolas would become the cause of his people's final destruction if he returned to his father's cavern palace pregnant and alone.

'There has to be some way for me to save this child without destroying everyone's lives!' thought Legolas desperately. Then a workable, terrible solution came to mind: he could give the child to Aragorn and Arwen and leave it up to the Man whether or not he told his wife that he was the baby's sire. Legolas had no doubt that he would do so, and the elf knew that would have to leave Gondor when it happened; Arwen wouldn't and shouldn't have to endure his presence in the city when the truth came to light and he wouldn't be able to stand watching her raise his child as her own anyway. The important thing, though, was that the baby would be safe. Even if Arwen hated him forever she wouldn't outright reject Aragorn's child; in time she might even forgive it for having him as a father…

That last thought bounced through Legolas' mind and he felt his despair give way to a related but much different emotion. 'Wait a minute,' he thought incredulously. 'Wait just one damn minute. Forgive this child for having me as its father? How is that my baby's fault? It didn't ask to be conceived into this mess. Come to think of it, I wasn't the only one involved in its creation either!'

What exactly had he done wrong that made him so willingly accept all of the blame for the pain that this would cause? It had been Aragorn who'd made the first move to rekindle their relationship. Aragorn was the one who hadn't told Arwen that he didn't love her, thus not giving her a reason to depart. Aragorn had been the one who convinced him to stay on the night that they conceived the child and then had left him only hours later for someone that he didn't even love. And Arwen was the one who didn't take the hint when Aragorn tried to return her infernal necklace that he didn't love her in the way that she loved him. Finally, it was Elrond who observed the situation getting more and more tangled and elected to keep his mouth shut. Now Legolas was willing to accept his fair share of the responsibility, but this was too much. Here he was thinking about ways to keep all of these people unaffected by this turn of events while he had to worry about where he was going to go and putting up with someone who'd known him since he was a baby himself treating him like an errant lover who'd gotten pregnant on purpose.

Legolas looked up and caught his reflection in a mirror on the opposite wall. What he saw made him furious: he had the eyes of someone who was about to be run over by a mumakil and the face to match. Worst of all, his hair was loose around his shoulders; it made him look like a kept person, someone tamed by devastation and the degrading hope that his relationship with Aragorn wasn't over. Why else was he staying in a place where his love was in a bedchamber just a few corridors away having sex with another person? Legolas was disgusted with himself as he realized that he hadn't stayed because of the funeral procession or out of concern for Aragorn's well being; he stayed because he was waiting for the day when Aragorn would approach him once more, the day that he could become the king's lover on the side. Why hadn't he been acting like he deserved better than that? Where was his self-respect?

"I am going to reclaim my pride right now!" Legolas declared aloud as he jumped up from the bed and grabbed his comb. This wasn't just for himself – it was also for his child. He would keep it and protect it from the scorn it would surely face in Gondor or even Mirkwood, not because it was Aragorn's child but because it was the child of Legolas and he loved it dearly.

Ignoring the stings in his scalp as he relentlessly ran the comb through the snarls, Legolas reworked his plan to leave. The revised one was going to work even better than the original too because he had more motivation to make sure that it did. More preparation would be involved, though, if he was going to be able to protect them both even after they left Minas Tirith; but for the first time in weeks Legolas felt confident, grim as it was. His burning love for Aragorn, while not gone, was no longer his driving purpose; this child was, and it was giving him the strength he needed to move ahead.

To be continued…