A/N: The title of this chapter comes from the song "My Give a Damn's Busted" by Jo Dee Messina. Here are the relevant verses and chorus:

Well you filled up my head,
With so many lies.
Twisted my heart
Til something snapped inside.
I'd like to give it one more try
but my give a damn's busted.

You can crawl back home
say you were wrong,
stand out in the yard
cry all night long.
Well go ahead and water my lawn.
My give a damn's busted.

(chorus)

I really wanna care,
I wanna feel somethin'
Let me dig a little deeper…
Nope…
Sorry…
Nothin'

For the rest of the night straight into the wee hours of the morning Elrond laid in his bed, trying to will himself to sleep. Yet nothing that he did, even closing his eyes – one of the few times in his life he acknowledged his Mannish side since he chose to be a member of the Eldar race – the rest that he sought nonetheless remained elusive. No matter how hard he tried he could not help but obsess what had become of the lives of three people that he held dear in his heart. His beloved daughter Arwen, forever sundered from her people, lived in naïve bliss unaware that the world she'd chosen could implode at any moment. His foster son Aragorn, whom Elrond couldn't have loved any more had the Man been his child by flesh and blood, teetered precariously between his obligations to his new wife and the Gondorian people and the yearnings of his heart for his true love. Finally there was Legolas – Elbereth, Elrond had been there when the young elf was born and had always considered him to be a part of the family – who loved Aragorn as much as Aragorn loved him and was about two months pregnant, a fact that the new king was ignorant to for the time being.

Elrond buried his face into his pillow to muffle his groan. How many events were there in his life that he looked back on and dreamed of the million different ways he would handle them if given another chance? All of his daydreams since the moment he'd felt the chilliness in Arwen's hands were about when he first realized that Aragorn was drawn to his daughter. The elf lord could hear himself council the Man not to jump into another relationship so hastily after losing his first love. He could see himself riding to Mirkwood to encourage Legolas to not give up the one he cherished because of foolish unselfishness. That way Arwen would have had no reason to sacrifice her immortality and Aragorn and Legolas could've married instead and now be free to enjoy the fact that they would be having their first child.

Alas, Elrond did not have the power to go back in time to create this ideal present and could only wish that things worked out as best they could. Knowing that Legolas would return to Mirkwood as soon as possible in light of the extent of the realm's attack and the futility of staying in Gondor, the elf lord had been hoping that time and the reality of the situation would dull Aragorn's feelings for the prince. One day the Man might even discover that he'd come to love Arwen in a way that displaced the out-of-bounds elf from his lofty position in his heart. Perhaps Legolas would even find a new love, one much better suited for him (or at least unattached to anyone else). Then what Legolas and Aragorn had shared would become nothing but a memory to both of them, something to laugh and nostalgically reminisce about when they were able to be just friends again. The perfect future, under these awful circumstances, would happen exactly like that.

The world wasn't perfect, however, and the already delicate situation had gotten infinitely more complicated in the wake of Legolas' pregnancy. Elrond could not see Aragorn letting his memory fade if he ever found out that he was going to have a child. In fact, the king couldn't, for that child would have a claim to the throne of Gondor. The injustice of having to give up the one he loved would color his judgment and Aragorn would insist on not denying his child the opportunities that came with being the prince or princess of Gondor. Scandal would ensue and Arwen, shamed but selfless, would leave so that her husband could be with Legolas; and her grief and loneliness would be unending.

Thankfully, Legolas seemed to have decided not to inform Aragorn of his current plight. Elrond's heart went out to him, for the elf lord understood that there was now no place that the prince could go to let the love he had for Aragorn to diminish. Not only would he always have a reminder of it every time he looked at the child, but also there would be no place that he could go and still keep the identity of its sire a secret. Legolas might never willingly tell, but prying minds would unravel the mystery soon enough. Aragorn would figure it out instantly if he stayed in Minas Tirith or any other part of Gondor. Were he to return to Mirkwood, the protective Thranduil would incessantly attempt to persuade, argue, or guilt the truth out of his son. When he failed at that, the elven king, being no fool, would begin questioning all of the people who'd been around Legolas at the time of the conception – starting with the young elf's best friend, Aragorn. The secret wouldn't even be safe if Legolas sought refuge in Rivendell or obtained permission to retreat into a dwarvish cave with Gimli; the twins and the dwarf lord would be too concerned about their pregnant friend and curious about the mysterious lover who'd either died or abandoned him. While they would probably respect Legolas' wishes not to tell his father, they wouldn't understand why it would be so important to keep the truth of his condition from Aragorn as well. Elrond cringed as he imagined his sons or Gimli confiding to Aragorn about what had happened to their poor friend and asking for his insight. Try as he might, Elrond couldn't see how the unfortunate trio could help but move to a place emotionally that none of them would like being in if the child was allowed to be born.

How he wished that the bundle of trouble growing in Legolas' stomach had never existed! Elrond felt like a monster just thinking about the infant that way, let alone entertaining the thought of it being gone; after all, it was his first grandchild. If fate had been kinder he might have been able to spend the last few years that he remained on that side of the Great Sea doting upon it, spoiling it rotten and then chuckling in that way that grandparents do as he then sent it back to its parents. That was not to be, though, and the baby's presence would only serve to hinder Legolas and Aragorn's ability to move on with their lives. Their future happiness would be jeopardized, as well as Arwen's.

Elrond squeezed his eyes closed tighter as he tried to banish the images of a little boy – would he be broad and grave like Aragorn or lean and graceful like Legolas? – or little girl – as fair and proper as any princess of Men or the tomboy that two such experienced warriors couldn't help but raising? – and accept the truth of the matter. The fragrance of the herbs that he'd set so carefully on the table by his head invaded his nose and his heart hardened in response. 'It would be best,' he told himself sagely, 'if Legolas heeded my advice and put an end to this once and for all.'

But if that were true then why couldn't he find sleep at last? 'Perhaps because Legolas came to you for help and advice,' a treacherous voice in his head (which always, for some reason, sounded either like his wife Celebrian or long-dead brother Elros) suggested, 'and all you did was pressure him to end his pregnancy.'

'I did no such thing,' Elrond argued back to himself. 'He understood that his options are limited and I told him of an alternative that may not have entered his mind. There was no pressure; why, I even told him to rest before making his decision.'

'Yes, I must admit that that's true,' conceded the voice, though Elrond knew better than to think that he'd won the debate so quickly. 'Of course, that was only after you made it painfully clear that you believe that it would be best for him to terminate the child

'He was scared and having trouble thinking of all of his possibilities except to go to Aragorn of his father,' thought Elrond defensively. 'I was simply letting him know that I would help him with whatever he decided to do.'

The voice gave a humorless chuckle. 'But did you offer your assistance in figuring out what to say to Aragorn or to write to Thranduil?' it questioned triumphantly because it already knew the answer. 'Of course you didn't; but you were very quick to tell him that you'd leave the necessary herbs for termination out for him and advised that he take them as soon as possible.'

'Ending the pregnancy will become more difficult each day he knows he's carrying it,' countered Elrond. 'If he's chooses this option it will be best for him if he take them as soon as possible.'

The voice was hardly appeased. 'And then it wouldn't be possible for him to change his mind later when the shock wore off and he was thinking more rationally,' it taunted. 'It was quite crafty of you to manipulate Legolas so at his most vulnerable.'

'It wasn't like that,' the elf lord insisted. 'I'm trying to do what's best for Legolas as well as for everyone else. I cherish him as an uncle would his most beloved nephew, as I have since he was born.'

'Oh, I understand: you care about him so much that you practically accuse him of sleeping around during his relationship with Aragorn.'

'I didn't mean it to come out like that!' protested Elrond fiercely, his skin getting hot with what he pretended was solely anger. 'It was more of a desperate wish for a better situation than a statement of what I actually believe. It would be better if someone else was that child's sire. I only want what's best for everyone.'

'Whatever helps you sleep at night,' sighed the voice sarcastically. 'Oh, wait – you can't sleep at night, or any other time it seems. But perhaps you're right and your baseless accusations of infidelity and promiscuity aren't the reasons behind it. I would guess that your lack of sleep has more to do with how you feel about implying that Legolas had contrived to get pregnant so that he could ensnare Aragorn.'

'I didn't say that!' The elf was starting to feel like an elfling again, one who was caught doing something naughty by a wise adult. 'I would never say something so horrible about Legolas, let alone believe it.'

The one person that Elrond couldn't deceive was himself. 'Perhaps not consciously,' the voice informed him, 'but in the back of your mind where you shut away your darkest thoughts you did – and still do – believe it. Ever since Arwen relieved to you that she was now mortal you've seen Legolas as a potential threat to her happiness. Why did you have that messenger for King Theoden keep your presence a secret when you had him call Aragorn to the king's tent the night you gave him the sword? Because you knew that Legolas would accompany him if they knew that you were there and you feared that if he were present when Aragorn found out about Arwen's condition Aragorn would have chosen differently.'

'No,' Elrond protested yet again. 'It's just – why make him go through the pain of having someone witness him losing the person he loved to another?'

'Is that why you didn't go to comfort him later on when you heard his sobs coming from Aragorn's tent?' the voice wondered. 'Oh, but whatever excuses you may come up with for that shameful little incident, they would still not explain away why you accused him of planning to disrupt the wedding even though you knew that all he was doing was sacrificing his own happiness to increase Arwen's bliss even more. Now a little part of you thinks that he tricked Aragorn into impregnating him even though it will most likely Legolas' life that is going to be ruined if the entire truth should ever come to light.'

Elrond was out of responses and excuses; he could only lie there and face the worst parts of himself. 'For all the wisdom your mind has after all these long years your heart is as cold and your feelings as fickle as any spoiled elfling,' observed the voice nastily, truthfully. 'How else could someone go in your eyes from being as dear as a beloved, cherished nephew to as vile and wretched as a home wrecking harlot so easily?'

The sound of the door creaking open put an end to the lord's internal debate-turned conscience scolding. When he heard no footsteps either entering the room or walking away, Elrond cracked his eyes open slightly. It was Legolas, walking quietly across the bedchamber toward the bed – or rather the table standing beside the bed where the herbs continued to sit. "Legolas," he whispered hoarsely in way of greeting.

"Lord Elrond," returned the elf prince, his voice cold. Legolas didn't look at him as he picked up something, but Elrond strained his eyes enough to confirm that the herbs were now in his hand.

There was something different about Legolas, though not so different that it seemed out-of-place or jarring. Elrond tried to figure it out but such a level of comprehension was too much for his troubled and weary mind to process. Ceasing those efforts, he moved his head enough so that he could see the blonde elf holding the herbs away from his body as he examined them cautiously. As guilty as he might be feeling, the lord couldn't let him change his mind when he was so close to taking them. "For what it may be worth I believe that you're doing the right thing," he offered encouragingly. "For yourself as well as for everyone else."

Legolas' grip on the herbs tightened ever so slightly as he looked over at him. Elrond internally shivered when he saw that there was even less warmth in his expression than there was in his tone. "I thank you for you discretion last night and ask that you continue to keep this situation a secret," said Legolas. He snorted a little. "Though I doubt that you'd tell anyone even if I didn't ask you not to. But do not give me words of advice or affirmation because, quite frankly, I don't particularly care what you think."

Without another word he spun around and departed as quickly as he could, never to speak to Elrond in a personal, familial way again. Once he was able to see beyond his anger it would pain Legolas that their affectionate relationship had ended so abruptly without any reconciliation and it would always cause some degree of sadness and regret for the rest of his life whenever he thought about it (which would become less often as the years passed by and other things came to occupy his mind). He would also accept it as a necessary loss to protect his child. After the child was born Legolas would even come to understand why Elrond had been so quick to choose Arwen's happiness over his, though he would never forgive the callous way that the elf lord went about it. The elf lord, as far as he was concerned, was forever emotionally sundered from him.

Elrond would never know that he disposed of the herbs as soon as he could and then rushed to the nearest source of water to wash off any of their residue that might harm the baby in any way.

Elrond would remain in Middle-earth for a few more years, instructing his sons of the nuances of ruling over Rivendell while patiently waiting for Bilbo to get older than the Old Took at the time of his death so that the aged hobbit would be content to leave those shores with that one last victory. During that time Arwen would give birth to two of her three children and the lord would indeed dote upon them, smiling as a grandfather does when his children complain that he spoiled them rotten before sending them home. He would love them and cherish the time they spent together, but he would dread it too because it would be in their presences that the specter of the grandchild that he could have had would haunt him most acutely. The ghost of a little boy about Eldarion's age would stand beside them as he tried to explain the art of healing to his eldest grandchild. The image of a little girl would dance along side Silmariën as his granddaughter showed him her latest steps. The way the apparition looked would change each time he saw it – varying between Aragorn's darker, Mannish looks and Legolas' golden elvish beauty – but he always knew who it was and why it was always there.

And sleep would continue to elude Elrond until a grey ship delivered him at last to the peaceful shores of Valinor, where all the pain of Middle-earth became nothing more than a memory.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"The food here's good," said Merry awkwardly as he piled more bread on his plate. "Very yummy and…stuff."

Eomer, who found himself sitting between Merry and the hobbit's younger cousin Pippin at the breakfast table, managed to hold back his sigh though he wasn't able to stop his eyes from rolling. He knew that he wouldn't be able to get through the funeral procession and ceremony if everyone was going to treat him as carefully as they were. "Don't feel that you need to subdue yourselves on my account," he told Merry while giving Pippin a glance so that the little hobbit knew that the request applied to him too. "I and many others were deeply grieved to lose my uncle but he died well and is at peace. We should be celebrating his life, for it was an honorable one indeed. One way to do that is to remember that he loved what he knew about your hobbit culture; and how you, Meriadoc, were like a son to him for the little while that you were with him. He would want to you tobehave as you always have. Why, if he were here right now he'd be asking how such small beings could eat so much."

Merry looked down at his place – or rather the mounds of food that were piled on his plate since the dish itself was no longer visible from any side save the bottom. "Oh, this isn't a lot," he said. "At least not when you take into account how many meals we'll be missing until the funeral's over."

"But we'll be missing none," protested Eomer in confusion as he eyes the even bigger heap in front of Pippin. "I've already told you that we'll be making regular stops for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as there will be very little to gain by skipping them."

"Yes, but what about the others?" asked Pippin rhetorically, more to make a point than to get an answer out of Rohan's king. "We hobbits also have second breakfast, elevensies, afternoon tea, and supper in addition to the meals that the Big Folk eat. We're going to need at least two more helpings to make up for the mealtimes that we're going to miss between breakfast and lunch today!"

Eomer turned slightly green. "That's…only one helping?"

"The next few days are going to be lean ones," nodded Merry, too busy digging in to notice Eomer's strange color. "But thankfully being on the Quest for so long has prepared us well to deal with such meager rations."

"Eventually," spoke up a new voice. "I seem to recall, however, a lot of complaints – dare I call it whining? – until you two got to the point where you could be content with only giving us sullen looks. Even after that you would groan most pitifully whenever your stomachs growled."

The happy looks on the two hobbits' faces were priceless when they simultaneously raised their heads to see Legolas standing there, miraculously – it seemed – restored to as he was when they'd first met him: standing tall and proud, practically glowing with determination, and his hair tied once more back into warrior's braids. "Legolas!" exclaimed Pippin, excited in his relief. "You're all fixed!"

"Merry and Pippin had just finished telling me about how you were wearing your hair loose now," Eomer told the elf. He squinted, cocking his head to one side and then to the other. "I must confess that I can't really imagine what that would look like on you."

"Don't bother trying to," replied Legolas dryly, feeling strangely energized. The first part of his plan had been successful and now Elrond – the only other person who knew about his pregnancy – believed the baby to be no more. With his child safe for the time being, he felt confident enough to banter. "I really didn't like it like that."

"Well don't just stand there talking about your hair," scolded Merry happily. "Sit down with us and have –"

"Legolas!"

The queen of Gondor had entered the room, followed closely by her husband, and had almost passed out with relief when she saw her friend standing there looking as if he were back to normal. "You're awake," she rejoiced, hugging him enthusiastically. She was further reassured when he returned the embrace almost in the way that he used to instead of with those stiff arms he'd had as of late. "We've been so worried –"

"Arwen," Aragorn broke in. "Perhaps Legolas would feel more comfortable if you didn't mention such things in front of other people."

"It's all right, Aragorn; please don't feel like you need to protect me," said Legolas blithely, though Aragorn didn't miss the slight edge in the elf's voice. "I know that I haven't been acting like myself lately and I'm sorry for any concern that my behavior has caused. Some – painful events have happened, but I know now that I cannot blame myself for the things I had no control over. Last night I decided that I'm going to focus on the people who need me now and not wallow anymore in the past."

Arwen clapped her hands in delight, unaware of the growing look of unease in her husband's eyes. "That's wonderful!" she grinned. "I can't tell you how happy it makes me to see you feeling better. You had me worried there for awhile."

"Don't think on it anymore, Arwen," Legolas told her, glad that having a new focal point in his life made to possible for him to bear looking at her again. "I'm going to be fine."

"That depends," she noted with maternal admonishment. "Have you eaten yet? You need to get some food; you've only been picking at your plate for weeks!"

"He just got here," supplied Pippin before Legolas could answer. "Merry was just inviting him to sit down and eat when you came in."

"Well, I'll definitely take the food," smiled Legolas, thinking about the life that was growing within him as he selected a fine looking apple and bit into it. "However, I'll pass on the sitting part. I don't feel like staying in one place right now."

Aragorn's eyes grew large with realization. "Legolas, may I please speak to you in private?" he asked.

Without bothering to wait for a response, he grabbed the elf's arm and pulled him into the corridor outside. "What are you doing?" demanded Aragorn when they were far enough away from the meal hall not to be overheard.

"I think I should be asking you that question," replied Legolas irritably.

"You're refusing to sit down?" pressed Aragorn, unfazed by his hostility.

"Is that all?" demanded Legolas. "Well, I think that you should be able to tolerate me standing on my last day here; I've certainly been lazing around long enough."

He turned to leave but Aragorn tightened his hold on his arm with one hand while moving the other around him to the small of Legolas' back. Frowning at what he felt there, he lifted the elf's tunic. "I'm referring to this," the Man announced as he whipped out the knife that had been tucked into the waistband of Legolas' leggings.

Only two people knew that Legolas carried a knife at the small of his back: his father Thranduil, and Aragorn. The elven king had been the one who'd given it to him, along with the instructions to keep it hidden away until he had no other options to defend himself. Aragorn had discovered it the night that they'd first made love and had been duly impressed that the prince had managed to keep it a secret from even Gandalf for so long. He'd also laughed when Legolas had shared that its location made sitting down extra difficult and that's why he avoided doing so whenever possible.

"That is supposed to be a secret," hissed Legolas, snatching the knife and putting it back where it was supposed to be. "I would appreciate it if you didn't do that again. You have no right to take my weapons or to lift up any of my clothing."

"Why are you carrying that again?" asked a determined Aragorn. "You – you seemed to be giving yourself over to a life of peace these last six weeks, even while your grief was evident. Now that grief appears to have subsided and you look like you're ready for another war. I'm worried about you."

"If I hear that phrase one more time I'll make sure that it'll be the last," warned Legolas darkly. "I don't want anyone to be worried about me, especially you. You have a wife now, Aragorn; go be worried about her."

"Legolas, stop," said Aragorn forcefully. "I know why you're doing this – you're angry at me. I deserve every bit of it, but please know that you're the only one that I'm in love with."

"And that doesn't do anyone any good," replied Legolas. "That's why I have to leave, Aragorn; and I won't be coming back."

Aragorn swallowed hard. "Please," he begged. "I know that things can never be as they once were but I can't lose you wholly. There had to be some way –"

"For us to be together?" interrupted Legolas with raised eyebrows. "Do you wish to break your marriage vows so soon and take me on as a lover on the side? The noblewomen of Gondor might put up with their husbands' dalliances but you know that Arwen wouldn't, nor should she have to. And even if she would I could never have that kind of relationship with you, no matter how much I love you."

"Mela…"

"Don't call me that anymore," ordered Legolas. "You made your choice and it wasn't me. At least have the integrity to live with the future that you've selected. Now, if there's nothing else, I'm going to get some food – I'm famished."

Without a wistful smile or lingering look Legolas turned around and went back to the meal hall, leaving a stunned and shaken Aragorn in his wake. This time it would be the Man who would have to take the time to compose himself before he was able to face a room full of people again.

To be continued…