A/N: For those of you who now think I'm incapable of getting another chapter out within two or three months, this is to prove you all wrong. /GRIN/ And to make you all even more pleased, I've decided to put myself on a stricter deadline with the whole ever-unreliable updating thing. /readers groan thinking 'here we go again, another three month's wait/ No, seriously. From now on I'm giving myself two weeks to write a chapter. Whatever I have done will be posted every other Sunday. Perhaps if I'm a little tougher on myself this story will actually begin to get somewhere, ne? (Japanese for 'yes', I believe).

In other news I am considering, for those of you who haven't read the recent entries in my livejournal, changing the name of this fic. Someone commented that they didn't love the name 'Sindarin Fox' a while ago, and truth be told there are times when I wonder if it still fits the fic as well as I originally thought.

So thanks to my roommate, /huggles roommate/, I now have a possible new name for this fic. I told my roommate what it was that this fic was about, and how it was inspired by the line 'things aren't always as they seem'. In response, she came up with the name 'Illusion's Face', which I have to say I very much like. However, before I change it I would like to hear feedback from you guys, basically 'To change, or not to change'. If you have your own ideas regarding new names for the fic, feel free to add those in too. I'll be deciding whether or not to change it before the next post, and if I do change it, the change will be made when I post chapter 14, just to give you all fair warning.

And now, without further adieu, I give you… chapter 11.

Chapter 11: Guilt and Confusion

Legolas didn't even stop to think before he simply leapt twenty feet from his perch to the ground. Being raised in the greatest forest still in existence in Arda such a thing was fairly commonplace in his life. Landing first on his front paws and then on his hind before bounding off was a new experience, yet he paid it little mind as his consciousness became focused on one thing and one alone.

Get the bird before it got the squirrel.

Swifter than he'd ever moved before in his life he suddenly found himself intercepting the raptor's flight path, vaguely registering that it was too swift even for an elf to have run, before once again his mind was overcome by another new experience: the crunch of bones and the taste and feel of feathers, flesh and blood in his mouth as he leapt into the air and his jaws slammed shut on the creature's wing. Giving his head a quick and violent twist first to the right and then left, he could feel and hear more bones snapping and flesh tearing as the bird was yanked from the air and found itself thrown to the ground. Another twist and the wing tore clear off. Legolas felt a very strange satisfaction as he dropped it and pinned the shrieking, struggling hawk.

The warmth of the creature's blood and the taste of fresh meat was intoxicating, alluring, and oh so wonderful. Its dying screams as it succumbed to its fate further fueled his sense of triumph.

Now the mind as we all know, is a very funny thing. Often times whether we wish it or not it will simply go off on its own little tangents and not return from wherever it has randomly wandered off to until the most embarrassing or frightful moment the subconscious can perceive as occurring. Somewhere during the time between his initial attack on the hawk and his present mauling of it, Legolas' mind got sidetracked from his original goal of 'Save the Falling Squirrel', to 'Reduce Attacking Hawk into Fox-food'. Thus it was that exactly what he was doing didn't even occur to him, until a nagging little voice in his mind began screaming at him to stop it.

Legolas pointedly ignored it. Whatever anonymous bit of bird he was currently chewing on tasted rather good at the moment, and he was intent on finishing his meal. The voice, however, did not go away. Instead it grew continually louder until it finally occurred to him that it wasn't coming from inside his head, but that it was another creature shouting at him. He also realized that whoever it was had their paws—complete with sharp little claws—in a rather tight grip in the fur at his right shoulder. Now, for the life of him he couldn't understand just what they were saying, and was thus beginning to get just a bit annoyed. He growled a warning at them. They better not think to steal his prey, or they'd find themselves nursing several nasty wounds.

When the shouting insisted on persisting, he dropped his meal and whirled on the irritating creature, snarling and snapping his jaws at it. But when the frightened looking squirrel standing next to him fell back with a yell from an all-too familiar voice, everything slammed back into perspective almost fast enough to cause him to drop from the sheer shock of it all.

Ossir thought he was dead. He really did. First a hawk decided he'd make a good meal, then this psycho fox decided to maim the hawk and then growled at him like he was going to eat him next. Wonderful. There always was a bigger fish, and now he'd just pissed the bigger fish off.

Yet he'd had a very good reason to. Those eyes, even clouded with rage and bloodlust as they'd been, he'd recognized. After these last few days he didn't think anything could make him forget them.

And of course his newly-developed sense of smell had confirmed it for him as well.

The fox suddenly froze, a look nothing short of horrified on his face as realization dawned on him. Ossir reached a tiny paw out to him cautiously. "Legolas?"

The poor vulpine started shaking violently, wide eyes darting back and forth from the ex-human to the bloody and tattered remains of the hawk. Ossir realized that his friend was going into shock, and determined to get him to snap out of it lest that psycho of a human came back to haunt them once again. Ignoring the blood practically dripping from the fur, he reached up and grabbed the fox's muzzle, firmly pulling it close to him and forcing Legolas to look him in the eye. "Now you listen to me. We're going to leave and find someplace where we can get cleaned up and rest, got it?"

The silver vulpine nodded. He was still a bit dazed, but his shaking wasn't getting any worse and the familiar voice gave him something he could anchor himself to. "Good, now follow me."

Ossir took off through the underbrush, knowing that the fox would follow him. He didn't look back, knowing that it might give Legolas a reason to glance back at the hawk's corpse again, which wouldn't do anyone any good.

Legolas knew not to look back either. He didn't want to see what remained of the hawk. He knew what he'd done, and with his elven memory he'd have a perfect picture of it any and every time he thought of it from now until the end of his existence. Instead he focused stubbornly on Ossir, and on forcing his legs to carry him after the small creature.

As Aragorn made his way through his home something suddenly dawned upon him.

He'd let a complete stranger call him by his birth-name, something only close and trusted friends or family were allowed. And he'd given him permission to call him by said name as though it were the most natural thing in the world!

'What in the world was that about?'

Truly, he couldn't explain it. The best his mind could come up with was that the kid had looked absolutely terrified beyond all reason of him, and he'd automatically taken whatever measure seemed effective in putting him at ease.

'But why?' It wasn't as if the young soldier was of any real consequence to him. He'd delivered his message, and as soon as he was rested he'd be sent back to his duties. If he was lucky he'd meet up with the king maybe twice more in his career at most unless he managed to gain a more lofty position as an officer or became one of the personal guard of one of the royal family. Beyond such things occurring, they'd more than likely never cross paths again. So again, he asked himself, why the excessive need to make the boy feel so comfortable around him?

Unfortunately no answer came, and instead of continued musing on the subject, Aragorn found himself forced to execute a particularly abrupt turn and sidestep to avoid tripping and falling head-over-heels, which anyone would agree was a very un-kingly thing to do.

Once he'd regained his balance after a moment of wondering whether or not he'd end up on his rear despite his efforts, the king turned a questioning glare on the particularly unhappy dwarf who had been standing silently in his way, and had nearly caused him said very embarrassing fall.

"What is it Gimli," he asked, arms crossed to show he was impatient and wanted his answer quick.

"Where is he, Aragorn?" the dwarf responded, equally impatient for his answer.

"Who?" the man was fairly confused for a moment, until the smaller being's next words gave him an answer that should have been obvious in the first place.

"Legolas. Where is he?"

The former ranger cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean? Legolas is in Linhinenet. You know that."

"Wrong, and you know it," Gimli countered. "Wherever trouble is, that elf goes with it. The walls have ears, you know, and rumor travels fast. Rumors that Faramir has been taken by someone, and that a young lad showed up on Legolas' horse are racing through the halls amongst the servants. And to find you stomping through the halls looking as though you just found an orc in your bed proves that there has to be at least a shred of truth to said rumors."

Aragorn would have chuckled if his worry over his friend and Steward wasn't nagging at him so badly. However he knew better than to expect Gimli to simply step aside and leave him to his own devices. If Faramir was truly taken, the dwarf would be worried enough. If there was even a chance that Legolas might be involved in said kidnapping, a dragon wouldn't stop him from marching straight over to the town to make sure the elf was okay. And if Legolas were taken…

He shuddered. Even an Uruk Hai would have to pity the culprit of such an act, once both dwarf and elf were finished with them. Not to mention he'd have his own bone to pick with whatever creature dared threaten one of his closest friends, especially since Gesan had said that Legolas had been injured.

The sound of said dwarf clearing his throat brought him back to the present situation. He sighed. "A strange hawk arrived bearing news that Faramir was currently the guest of the creature's master, and that he would return when their business with one another was concluded. He would not say who his master was, nor what specifically his business with Faramir was. When asked he said that we would find out when we were meant to find out and we were not to try and find him. He said nothing in regards to Legolas."

"Well then, I suggest you and I go and see just what has become of them, shall we?" Gimli made an abrupt turn and began his march in the direction of the stables. "Come on Aragorn," he called back. "You and I both know that whatever it is they'll need our help getting out of it."

This time Aragorn couldn't suppress his laughter as he followed the stout warrior. His conscious was kicking him a bit over not telling Gimli that the elf had reportedly been injured, but he reasoned with himself that should he reveal such knowledge to the dwarf, said dwarf would drive them both to madness with his worrying ere they left the city.

He found himself laughing again when they arrived at the stables. Gimli strode in as though he were about to take over the world, and then faltered and came to a dead stop in the middle of the aisle.

"What's wrong my friend?" he tried to suppress his amusement, bordering on complete failure the entire time.

The dwarf coughed, shifting uncomfortably as he cleared his throat.

"Well?" the king prompted.

"I—urm…" Gimli's fidgeting worsened, as he tried to voice the reason for his suddenly indecisive behavior without causing himself embarrassment that he knew for a fact that the man would find some way to keep him from forgetting for a very, very long time.

And considering that said man was of Numenorian blood, it could be quite a long time indeed. Possibly the rest of his natural life.

By now Aragorn was nearly suffocating with the effort of trying to drag this incredibly humorous scenario out, and decided that it really wasn't fair to either Faramir or Legolas to keep them waiting—possibly in the hands of a madman, for all they knew—simply so he could poke fun at the dwarf.

"Is it perhaps that you're wondering what you'll do in the way of a horse, Mr. Only-fools-ride-such-beasts, or that in your hurry to leave you left us no time to stop in our respective quarters or the kitchens to retrieve provisions for the trip?"

For the life of him Estel couldn't remember ever seeing the dwarf turn such a vibrant shade of red.

"Well…" he cleared his throat once more, trying desperately to search for some chance of redemption.

Said redemption, arrived in the form of laughing voices behind them. Aragorn and Gimli both turned to see the Lady Arwen, along with the three hobbits, striding towards them. In her hands Arwen held packs and saddlebags fully stocked for several weeks of journeying, as well as the pair's Lorien cloaks. Frodo hung back at the door a moment, looking a bit uncertain, before joining Merry and Pippin in extracting Merry's pony from his stall and giving it a quick brush-off ere tacking it.

"And just what are you doing?" Aragorn couldn't help but ask, though it seemed obvious by virtue of the bulging saddlebags the hobbit was fixing to his saddle.

"Why, coming with you of course," Merry replied. "Just me though, Frodo and Pippin are going to stay in the city.

"Oh?" Aragorn cocked an eyebrow at the other two standing next to him.

"Well, yes. Frodo isn't too keen on going out to a battlefield just yet, and I wouldn't want him to feel lonely, so he and I are going to help out Gandalf with whatever he and that lad who's with him are looking for," Pippin said.

"I'm certain he'd welcome that," Aragorn nodded, wondering yet again about the boy, and his own strange behavior around the young soldier.

Arwen in the meantime, had waved the stable boys off and slipped into Roheryn's stall to ready the stallion herself. True to elven swiftness, she had him fully ready to go by the time the others were finished speaking. She handed Aragorn the reins and his cloak, before giving Gimli his. Merry and Pippin were arguing over some such nonsense regarding what was to be done with whatever they'd apparently been baking the night before, while Frodo tried to hide his uneasiness by putting all effort into removing every speck of dust that could be found upon the pony, even though such efforts would be wasted as soon as the animal was on the road.

"Now then," Arwen said, looking the group over. "I think you're all set. Well, almost," she laughed, and turned to Gimli. "And just what horse will you be riding, Master Dwarf?"

Gimli frowned at her teasing tone, but all the same gave the question the serious thought it required. Normally he would ride with Legolas, but with the elf absent, he doubted he would be making the trip with the same ease he usually did. "I could ride with Aragorn, but with saddlebags that full, the two of us, plus the weight of my armor, 'twoud more likely slow us up than anything else."

The two royals nodded in response, as he continued. "I see that Arod has indeed come back to us, but without Legolas I doubt I could control the beast, and unless my eyes are deceiving me he looks a bit too tuckered to carry me willingly."

Indeed Arod seemed to agree, throwing his head up and pinning his ears at the stout creature, an angry whinny and a hard stomp of his foot warning all of the dire consequences should anyone (with the exception of his elf, of course) even approach him with the idea of traveling at the present time.

"Indeed," Gimli nodded. "Then that leaves me with two options, either find another horse and hope I survive the trip, or ask the hobbits if they'd allow me the use of one of their ponies."

"You could use mine," Frodo spoke up. Merry's pony was ready, and he'd been listening to the dwarf reasoning out his options. He walked over to the mare's stall, and led her out into the aisle. The animal was dark bay, and though obviously a pony was still plenty big enough to carry the dwarf and all his armor without slowing everyone down.

"That'll do," Gimli agreed.

As soon as the pony was saddled they all left the stable. Aragorn looked to the sky and noted that more storm clouds were gathering overhead. Continued foul weather would be a nuisance, but would also give them a perfectly good excuse to wear their hoods. The last thing the king wanted was for people to take note that the king was leaving the city, especially since it would worsen whatever rumors were already flying around, and probably lead to his advisors chewing him out about leaving without an armed escort sooner than they would if he left unnoticed.

Merry hopped up onto his plucky little grey gelding, chatting with Pippin while he waited for the others. Aragorn took a moment to pull Arwen in for a hug and farewell kiss. "We shouldn't be gone too long," he said.

Arwen snorted. "Oh, really? Well, in the almost certain event that you do end up being gone for weeks or months, I've packed you enough supplies to see you through a good portion of the trip. Anything else you'll have to hunt."

Aragorn laughed. "And it is much appreciated, my dear. But seriously I will try not to disappear into oblivion this time."

His wife smiled again and shook her head. "I know you will. I just also know that more often than not your enemies have vastly different ideas, so I won't hold it against you unless you never come home at all."

"So long as I have such loyal and steadfast companions at my side, I very much doubt that likely to happen," he chuckled. With one final embrace the Lady of Gondor stepped back, and Aragorn leaped into the saddle of a by now very impatient Roheryn.

Gimli was also attempting to mount Frodo's mare, named 'Remy'. The creature, while calm and complacent in the stable, was fidgety and high strung now that she was outdoors. He managed to get his foot into the stirrup, only to have to put it swiftly back on the ground or be flipped onto his back as she shied away.

"What's wrong with her?" he demanded, as she gave a loud whinny. In response another shrill cry and the pounding of a hoof against wood came from within the stable.

Frodo sighed. "I was hoping this wouldn't happen. Normally Bill's so calm you would forget he was still a stallion, which is why he was never gelded. However since he met Remy on our way here from Hobbiton, he's become infatuated with her. He even reared up on Sam! And Remy shares the sentiment. She gets all irritated whenever she's not near him. She settles down once she gets far enough away from him though," he added encouragingly.

"Wonderful," Gimli grumbled. "The elf disappears and I get stuck with the lovesick and possibly homicidal mare."

"Here, let me see if I can help," Arwen walked over and took hold of Remy's reins. The mare tugged fretfully at them, as the queen began speaking to her in the grey tongue. She began stroking the mare's neck, as the pony slowly began to settle down and stopped calling for Bill. A few minutes later, she stood quietly. Arwen smiled. Diminished though her connection with the world around her was, her blood was still elven and she still maintained enough elf-like qualities so as to allow her to maintain something of the life she'd had before she'd made her Choice. It was something for which she was ever grateful, for though she did not regret her Choice in the slightest and had known exactly what it was she was giving up, she was certain that to be cut off from everything she once was would have in some way or another crushed her.

She nodded to the dwarf who stood to the side waiting patiently, and continued to speak to the mare as Gimli once again put his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up onto her back. Arwen handed the reins back to him and stepped away.

Remy stood quietly, if a little forlorn. Her rider sighed in relief. "I thank you for your aid, fair Lady," Gimli said, tipping his helm to her in gratitude.

Arwen nodded in return. "It was my pleasure Master Dwarf, and now I think you should all be off."

"Yes we should," Aragorn agreed. He gave Roheryn a nudge with his heels, and the horse gladly trotted off, the two ponies falling in close behind. Arwen, Pippin and Frodo stood in the stable yard and watched them until they were out of sight.

"Well, then," Pippin said, turning back towards the palace. "Let's get some breakfast and see what Gandalf's up to."

Faramir was decidedly miserable as they dragged him along. The part of his mind that was dominated by his training and living as a ranger told him that the terrain was changing, becoming more rocky, and that it probably meant that they were a good distance now from where they'd left Legolas with that psychopath. Said instincts also told him that it was now well into morning, and that judging by the increased excited-ness of his canine companions, they were probably getting close to whatever hole in the ground that nutcase called his home.

Faramir told his instincts to shut up and go jump off a cliff. He really didn't care where they were or what they were going to do to him at the moment. All he cared about was the fact that Legolas was quite probably dead right now, and it was entirely his fault. He was the one Roklem wanted, not Legolas. Yet it had been the elf that suffered.

Of course rational would have said that it wasn't his fault, that Roklem was a sick bastard and could have just as easily done that to anyone else if making a point had been his goal, and that there had to have been another reason for the spectacle he knew would haunt him sleeping and waking for years, if not the rest of his life.

But the steward wasn't thinking rationally right now. Roklem could have come and tortured him to death at that very moment and he'd still be guilt tripping himself over Legolas' fate.

And what killed him the most was thinking back to his treatment of the elf the last few days. He'd been rude and distrustful, had treated Legolas like a fighting and information gathering machine, had exploited the prince's talents and not even been half as concerned that he'd gotten hurt in the process as he was of obtaining more information from him, and when Legolas had once again stepped up to his defense and come to help him even while injured, he'd gotten him captured and killed in one of the sickest ways the seasoned warrior had ever seen.

The prince hadn't deserved that. And instead of living happily in the peace he'd help earn for these lands until the day he decided to sail for Valinor, his immortal life had been cut off for no good reason whatsoever. Faramir didn't know how he could ever face himself, let alone Aragorn, Gimli and the rest of his friends, knowing that.

The guards at his side yanked him to a halt. He brought his head up, though he obviously couldn't see with the blindfold on, and waited as the Wargs seemed to be discussing something in their low, gravelly voices.

Apparently their discussion was over nothing that took much time to decide on, or did not pertain to him, for a moment later he found himself being dragged along once again.

The wisp of cool air was all the warning he got before he found himself plunged into gloom. He shivered. One need not be an elf to know that this place was thoroughly evil, and for a moment he forgot entirely about Legolas and wondered what dark and horrible things had been done that could have given the cave such a ghastly aura.

The ranger in him tried to keep track of how long they traveled down a particular corridor, and what turns they made, and whether they went right or left; but in the end he was forced to admit defeat, as it became too much to keep up with. The only thing he could make out, however, was that they were descending deeper into the ground.

After what seemed like forever, the group came to a stop once more. Faramir heard the creaking of a very rusty and not often used lock turning, and then the sound of equally ill-cared for hinges. Then he was being shoved forward with enough force to send him to the ground. He heard a growl from one of the guards, and another answering back.

The door slammed shut, and footsteps could be heard fading away. Was it his imagination, or did he hear a faint snickering as well?

Apparently it wasn't, as the sounds got louder as whatever was making them got closer.

Something large and hairy brushed up against his leg. Faramir jerked, not sure of what it was and not certain he wanted to find out.

Hot breath hit his ear, and a soft voice said, "I think I'm going to enjoy having company again."

TBC…

A/N: So: Legolas is miserable, Frodo's mare is lonely, Gimli and Aragorn are worried and not realizing that two small riders on ponies following a tall man on a huge stallion isn't exactly inconspicuous, Faramir's got a new cellmate, Arwen's enjoying being Dr. Dolittle, Frodo really doesn't like the thought of war brewing again, and Gandalf's going to have to put up with Pippin and all his eternal blundering even when he doesn't mean to blunder. /grin/ And that isn't even half the chap! Grrrrr. I hate where it ended. I had more planned out for this chap, but the muse escaped and ran off to somewhere-over-the-rainbow (if you find her please beat her over the head and send her back), and in order to keep with my new update schedule, I couldn't wait for her to come back. So, sadly, the chapter had to be cut short. It should have been posted last night, but I fell asleep so oops. /sheepish grin/

But anyways, the next chapter will be posted no later than March 12. Though due to the fact I had the whole second half of this planned out—and up until this evening total cooperation from the muse—I really don't see why it should take that long to be finished. Unless college decides it wants to wreck my updating as well.

But, I digress. Review responses are on my livejournal page, just follow the link in my bio, you know the drill.

Don't forget to review, and please do let me know what you think of the name Illusion's Face for this fic.

Thank you all and see you in a couple weeks. (Seriously.)