The short ride up the narrow, overgrown paths of the chain of hills proceeded without disturbance. In the surrounding villages, hardly anyone had been paying attention to the elves either. The whole area was almost eerily deserted. The summer heat slowed down life in South Ithilien. Just a few birds flew up sluggishly when the elves passed them by on their way to the Steward's home.

As Legolas hadn't acknowledged his father's presence with more than a short look back over his shoulder and had then pedantically made sure to always stay ahead of him, surrounded by his people, it was only on this stretch that Thranduil could catch up with him. There were advantages to having your horses be trained on rough terrain from an early age and to your own capable breeding stallion being able to gain speed even in a steeply ascending area. Legolas' surprised expression alone when he was suddenly riding next to him had been worth the quick chase and one or two scratches on his hands and face.

"Something else you needed, Your Majesty?" Not even with a stubborn look ahead could Legolas hide that the distance between them suddenly being so big again was hurting him. Unfortunately, he also had too many of Thranduil's more dubious traits to even take one step towards him now.

"The others are too far behind – and too excited and scared, too, by the way – to listen, so you can spare me that tone, ion nín. You already proved plenty that you don't have any respect for people who care about you."

You think this is how you can make him listen, aras nín? If you could only see yourself with him right now.

Sometimes the nagging voice of your own wife, even if it was only a memory, could unnerve you even millennia later. Even if she was right. Especially if she was right.

"You gave me no choice, Legolas. I might never have cared as much about them as you do, but I will not allow you to lead Eryn Lasgalen into a war against Men."

Legolas pulled away his arm before Thranduil had even really touched it. "Don't touch me. Spare me your feigned interest. The only ones talking about war in panic the whole time are the ones who have stayed out of this conflict from the start. Who have no idea what losing people can do to a warrior. When have you ever been a leader? You preferred to run after haru led our people to death in the first big war. And ever since then, you rather hid in your palace and let others tell you at night how many orcs and spiders the soldiers killed this time, no matter how many fell victim to those fights."

"How dare you …?" He already threatened to lose patience again, and this time, an admonishing voice of the past in his head didn't help. "Every single person losing their life in the battle for our realm has been properly honored."

"Yes, you were surely always generous about burial objects," Legolas replied cynically. "I have not seen you go to the mourners even a single time though. And such a person tries to tell me how to handle the deaths of my first own subjects? You have no idea how things were around here, just as little as my wife, who rather goes behind my back than talking to me openly. Did you think I couldn't guess who put this trip into your head so suddenly? Where is she, ada? Where is Ilya?"

"In safety as she should long have been, judging by the unjustified anger on your face." This time, Thranduil was faster and grabbed Legolas' wrist so firmly that he couldn't break lose. Maybe this was the only chance to tear down this wall around his completely hazed mind for a few seconds. "What will you do if she can't stand by you anymore after today? Will you renounce her and your child too? Will you send her to the west so that she does no longer have to watch how you rob Men of every hope for peace?"

"We'll find that out soon, won't we?" At the end of the monotonous, curvy ride, the hilltop with the palace in the middle unexpectedly appeared behind the next bend.

Not even in the multi-part building's forecourt itself were the elves welcomed by the expected groups of soldiers. Only a few servants saw them arrive and immediately fled into the biggest of the houses, easy to recognize as the center due to the splendid white and golden paint.

"He's not come back yet," that one strong-built, black-haired worker from Elrond's forge behind them said. "What is he doing in the capital for so long?"

"It won't take long before he arrives. Hurry." They tied the horses to some trees at the last fork before Legolas waved Tauriel over for a moment.

"You can still go back."

"I'm the one he might be listening to. And I'm the only one who knows her way around in this building well enough. Don't worry. I didn't forget what you told me. Or what I have promised myself back then." She stroked the handle of her sword for a moment that was hidden by her long tunic if one didn't look too closely, just like the weapons of the others. "Only in case of emergency. I'll retreat if it gets dangerous."

"Promise me." At the last moment, Legolas suddenly seemed to hesitate, as if Thranduil's words had achieved something after all. As if he suddenly remembered that in times of peace, it went against every tradition to drag healer elves of all people into something like this. And this wasn't a war, not yet.

Tauriel just nodded; the sudden insecurity confused her. "Should we really …?"

Legolas quickly turned away and marched to the main entrance of the Steward's House, a big, semicircular gate of iron, secured by two guards in heavy armor holding long spears.

There was no way back.

"The steward is residing in Minas Tirith at the moment." One of the men came forward immediately.

Legolas thought to recognize him. It was a warrior of Rohan who had guarded the Golden Hall of Edoras when Mithrandir had led Aragorn, Gimli, and him there back then, to free Théoden from Saruman's spell. Apparently, Éomer had transferred the man here after the war so that he could prove himself and take care of the King's sister. And this time, too, the soldier - now wearing the armor of Faramir's soldiers - met the elvish visitor with great mistrust. With his broad stance, he made it clear that the group had to get past him first.

"We'll be happy to wait for him. We bring research findings regarding the recently poisoned spring that he's been waiting for badly. Inform his wife."

Legolas could probably quickly have made the man move by pointing out who it was standing there beside him – so completely inconspicuous in simple armor and without any jewelry –, following the scene wordlessly. A weakness he'd certainly not show after explaining to Thranduil earlier how little he thought of his ancestry at this point.

Since the answer from inside the building was a positive one, the man had no choice but to have the gate opened, he still didn't move aside though.

"We've been there, Your Highness. No visitor enters my Lord's house armed."

"Of course." Legolas had to bite back a bitter smile when the elves put down their bows and quivers next to the entrance. Even after all this time, Men still knew so little about their neighbors.

Tauriel had often described it to him and had also painted the house's layout, so he wasn't being welcomed by any big surprises. Just like in Edoras, the throne room was being located behind the comparatively feeble gate and simple wooden doors, unprotected. The two black chairs of the noble Lord and Lady were straight in the line of fire of anyone gaining entry past the few guards. Once all of this was over, someone should have serious words with Faramir about security.

The hall consisted of two stories; the open hallways of the upper floor were only separated from the rest of the space by thin golden railings. The huge windows at the lateral walls let in far too much light, rebounding off the silver and golden wall paint, the mostly white furniture, and silver cloths decorating windows and walls. It was blinding and hardly allowed a look upstairs. Shelves, statues, open doors to other parts of the building, ledges, and niches offered additional cover. On the short way to the thrones, it was entirely impossible to keep an – especially inconspicuous – eye on the whole hall.

Legolas felt vindicated regarding his decision to bring so many people. If someone should attack from any of these various hideouts, they would hopefully notice quickly enough anyway.

Besides, Faramir seemed to have taken most of the White Company with him to the capital. There were only a few guards lining the way to the chairs where Lady Éowyn was waiting for them. Maybe this whole thing would indeed be easier than expected.

"Milady." Legolas bowed lightly, trying hard not to show how shocking the sight of the White Lady of Rohan was.

The loose-fitted dress couldn't hide how haggard she was, and powder not the paleness or the circles under her eyes. Her once so pretty, light blonde hair looked dull, tied back with a few front strands. The young woman looked as if she would collapse immediately if her handmaiden didn't have a hand on her shoulder.

"Your Highness …" Even her voice sounded much too thin. "I didn't expect you to bring all your people when you come to visit us."

"I didn't mean to upset you. Forgive me, milady."

Following Camhanar's warning gesture backward from the corner of his eyes, Legolas saw without surprise that a few of the soldiers were gathering close to the exit. One of them was particularly interested in the weapon collection of the elves outside. "Door," he murmured, hardly audibly – more caution than necessary, given how absent-mindedly Éowyn eyed the elves, with her thoughts visibly anywhere but here.

One of the elves took a few steps backward to keep an eye on said soldier, his expression clearly turning tense.

"We have come for your protection, milady," Legolas continued, as gently as possible, an ability that had unfortunately left him a little in the last few months. Then again, he had to doubt that someone obviously doing so badly would have been able to let an elvish voice cheer them up, no matter how much of a healing effect that sound usually had for many men. "We have found out that there are hostile people staying in your house, enemies of the crown of Gondor and therefore, enemies of Rohan as well. You're in great danger."

"Outrageous!" a man on the top floor screamed down at them immediately. "How can you even say that?"

"To the stairs," Legolas instructed another of the elves.

The Stewardaides seemed to run blindly into the trap. While that first guy gave himself away by his protest already, several others tried to vanish into the shadows up there and get to a door above the thrones.

"There's a back staircase leading down to the garden," Tauriel whispered. "If they have horses nearby …"

"Get outside," Legolas hissed at Camhanar. "Don't let any of them get away."

"What is going on here?" For the first time, Éowyn's voice was actually filled with life again.

She got up on shaky knees and took a few steps forward but was held back by her soldiers when they caught that a few of the elves tried to leave the hall, in spite of the Firstborns' quick, inaudible movements.

"Be careful, milady. Tell your people to come back," the man barked at Legolas, threateningly raising his weapon.

"Or do you want my men at the door to take care of that?"

"You're protecting traitors of the realm if you don't let them go."

Legolas ignored him, turning to Éowyn again. Now they had to be quick. "Milady, you need to wake up! Can't you see that you're being harmed here? You're sick, you need help."

"Help from people invading my house under false pretext?" The half-opened doors of the throne room were being pushed open wide. With long steps, clad in his armor instead of his dark Steward-robe, Faramir headed towards the elves, his sword ready at hand.

"Tell me, what will I find if I order you to lift your tunic, Your Highness? Do you expect me to trust someone who comes to see my wife with his hand on his dagger?"

"I'm not the one who means to stab you from behind, Steward."

Legolas reluctantly signaled his people to wait. They could have fought their way violently through these few soldiers, but he didn't give up hope yet that Faramir would understand by himself.

"These people leaving your estate right now are the ones you should question."

"My people have never done anything wrong. If that is your answer to my question about the poisoned spring, then leave. Now!"

"Milady, you shouldn't be listening to any of this." The scraggy, black-haired handmaiden by Éowyn's side leaned forward and whispered something to her Lady. "Come on, you're in danger here. I'll take you back to your room."

"Legolas." It was Thranduil watching the scene closely and drawing his attention to it. "They have people even among the most important employers. We have to check the food."

"Tauriel, stop her."

Though it was risky, Legolas couldn't give up yet. If he could only get Faramir away from all these people for a few minutes … "Steward, don't force me to take other measures, I'm begging you. Someone has been manipulating you for a while now. There's probably poison at work."

"Like the poison in the spring? Close the doors. Search them."

Instead of even really listening to the warning, Faramir's only let his aggression grow, especially when the elves were now forced to reveal their other weapons after all. Tauriel, too, was being brought back to the others by a vigorous soldier before she could talk to Éowyn.

With a sad headshake, he eyed them, one after the other, and finally turned to Legolas again. "I gave you more than enough chances."

"What are we still talking about anyway?" one of the soldiers shouted without restraint. "Do you finally see it, Steward? These people have been against you from the start! You have to lock them away immediately!"

"Don't I know you? Last time we met, you fled from my dagger after keeping the Queen prisoner in a cold cave, didn't you?" Ice-cold anger mixed into the growing worry that he had made a mistake when Legolas realized where he had last seen this man.

Being one of the Stewards who had been able to flee back then, he was one of the first real specific clues.

The guy noticed the danger and stepped closer to his Lord. "Lies, betrayal, and threats. That's what all of these people are working with. Only the King trusts them, which is probably why he vanished, too. They probably eliminated him because he hasn't fulfilled their demands."

"The King is gone?" Legolas clenched his fists, completely blindsided by this news. News that explained though why Faramir was being so tense. This whole thing had been planned in detail – and unlike he'd initially thought, not by him. He needed Faramir on his side right now, or everything would be lost … including Aragorn, probably. And in spite of their bad fight, he couldn't allow that.

"Steward, don't you see what's happening here? I know that's hard to believe, but these old poisons exist. They are usually being kept under wraps. They affect both body and mind. The Stewardaides have probably used something like that several times already, first for that attack on the King, and …"

"I don't want to hear any more! Poisons from your people, am I right? Why don't you say so, Your Highness? Drugs like the ones you're talking about originate from elvish books. You think I don't know that? I studied the Firstborn better than you think. Unfortunately, I seem to have missed it so far how unscrupulous your like act when it comes to enforcing your will."

Protected by the soldier who threw Legolas a triumphing smile, Faramir approached him, avoiding coming within the reach of an attack though. "If you're being so sure, tell me: How are simple men supposed to be able to create poisons of this kind?"

"I don't know." Legolas closed his eyes for a brief moment, and not only because the burning pain in them started to become unbearable. It had been a mistake. He didn't have any real evidence to show. If he wanted to come up with those, he had to win Faramir's trust somehow.

"But I need to find out, now more than ever. My people will leave. I'm staying here, voluntarily, under your watch. Give me a few hours, then I'll be able to give you details."

"I wouldn't do that, Steward." Before Faramir could comment on the offer, a man entered the scene via the top floor that they both, Legolas and he, had equally learned to fear. Very muscular, pale, inconspicuous save for the broad scar that almost split the left side of his face in two.

When the soldiers pointed any and all weapons at him immediately, Barhit raised his hands. "I don't even have a dagger on me. Search me if you don't believe me. Your people were kind enough to let me in, Steward, when I showed them what brings me here. It's something I think that might interest you as well." He lunged out and threw something small and glistening at Faramir, in a high curve, before the men of the White Company finally reached him and overpowered him, brutally pushing him to the ground.

"Stand him up!" Faramir shouted harshly, his voice hoarse with shock. He raised his right hand for all to see, holding a jewel that probably every citizen of Gondor knew since the war at the latest. Two tangled snakes formed it, under a crown of golden flowers, whose jeweled, green eyes shone a light at its wearer. The Ring of Barahir, covered in dried blood, there were whole patches of skin sticking to it.

"What did you do, Barhit?"

"Not me, Steward. My men caught the suspect with the ring when he tried to flee from Lossarnach to Rohan. We assume him to be the same person who's already incited a couple of my people to assassinate the King in January, without my knowledge. I'm afraid he may have succeeded this time. So far, he wasn't ready to talk. Maybe you can find out if the King is even still alive. If you will turn your eyes to the door …" A confident smile brightened Barhit's hollowed face. "I have waited very long for this day. Now you will finally see the true enemy of Gondor."

Not only the elves gasped for air when three men in Ranger clothes brought in a restrained prisoner in dirty, bloodstained clothes. He didn't even fight back; he was just staring at the ground motionlessly, not reacting to the terrified scream of one of his kin either.

"Erestor?" Tauriel broke away from the soldier who was supposed to watch her and made a move to run over there but was stopped again by the man behind her immediately, and not exactly gently.

"This is completely absurd! Steward, none of this is true. You're being deceived …"

"Indeed I am, just like the King," Faramir nodded. He had turned very pale, looking back and forth between the ring and Erestor in bewilderment while Legolas was still fighting the shock of realizing the great danger Aragorn really was in right now, and what Lord Elrond's librarian of all people should have to do with that.

"His Majesty has already fallen victim to all this wire-pulling. That will not happen again. Let Barhit go. I want to see him right here next to me. No tricks." His hand clenched around the jewel; finally, he slipped it in a pocket on his belt.

He quickly stepped back when Legolas tried to approach him once more and turned to the soldiers. "Seize the elves."

There it was, the worst case that Legolas had hoped to be able to prevent. The development didn't just try to rob him of his voice; for a moment, his sight blurred too when he spun around to face Camhanar. "Get them out of here!"

His eyes grazed his father while the soldiers rushed his people. At least in this one fateful second, they were in full agreement. Immediate escape, yes, but not without taking the people with them who were responsible for this. And especially not without getting the Steward out of a danger zone that he wasn't even aware of.

Thranduil was standing closer to the treacherous soldier, so it was up to Legolas to fight his way to Faramir standing a few feet apart. He jumped over the men who wanted to attack him with a wide leap and drew his daggers. It was only thanks to Faramir's limited ability to think, his obvious trouble with concentrating on anything for long, that he had not had the elves disarmed; that was the only advantage they had right now.

And well, it wasn't like he had never shown Barhit before, with pleasure, what happened when he got in his way. Before the man had even really come close to Faramir, Legolas held a dagger blade to his neck. With the other, he blocked Faramir's sword that had almost come dangerously close to him for a moment. "The choice is yours, Steward. You're either coming with us, or you'll lose the man with the most important information in a moment. I will not hesitate to kill the one responsible for the deaths of four of my people, so you better think quickly."

"Your Highness, be careful!" Was that Camhanar's voice?

Legolas couldn't tell. The fighting noise of the elves who flocking to the exit, trying their best not to hurt any enemy badly, the jangling of clashing blades, pained screams of both men and elves … Everything suddenly became deafeningly loud. Instead, the two faces in front of him blurred again, and this time, blinking didn't help.

The last thing Legolas could see clearly was a broad grin spreading on Barhit's face. Suddenly he realized how much he had miscalculated his jump. His blade wasn't endangering the man half as much as he'd thought. His eyes had once more betrayed him, a hated, far too well-known experience that had been shaping his life in North Ithilien from the start. It had been so long since it had last been so bad that he'd had the justified hope, it would be over. Instead, the fogs in his field of view grew bigger and bigger, covering everything in a veil that turned darker by the second.

Not now of all times.

One of his daggers slipped from Legolas' hand when a piercing pain behind his forehead made even focusing on the battle raging around him completely unimportant for a moment; he instinctively brought his hand up to his face.

The buzz of an arrow, somewhere far too close, too quiet thanks to all the shouting around him, to hear where it was coming from … and far too quick to dodge.

"Were you not ordered to leave?" Thranduil shouted at Camhanar as they started running almost at the same time.

Obviously, even for a father often somewhat clumsy, there were more important things to do than cornering one of many traitors in the room when his own son had just been struck down by an assassin.

"I promised you to take care of him, didn't I?" Camhanar replied, grinning weakly.

Legolas had trained them all well enough to not be completely helpless when faced with comparatively few attackers as right now. Most of the others had made it to the door already. Camhanar should have gone with them, making sure that they could leave Emyn Arnen. That was what his leader would have expected of him.

But his leader lay on the ground with an arrow in his shoulder, completely at the mercy of this mad Stewardaid who had now got Faramir under his control at last. He needed help.

Camhanar stopped, rooted to the spot when Faramir's sword blade touched Legolas' throat. Thranduil paused as well. And Camhanar saw with growing terror that the soldiers were bringing back his wife as well who kept her promise to herself that she would not attack the men in a way that might kill them. The others seemed to have made it – but at what cost?

Maybe it was time to tell Faramir whom he was dealing with here and what he was risking by threatening the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. "Your Majesty, you have to …"

Seeking help, he looked at Thranduil, but to his surprise, the other elf refused. "To make it even worse? Shut up!" The calmness that the King had radiated until now had been replaced by deep wrinkles of worry around his eyes.

His eyes were fixed on his son. It was plain to see how hard it was for him to not run there immediately. There was no doubt, they were thinking the same thing right now – something was wrong. You didn't usually black out so quickly from a wound like that.

Camhanar didn't understand Thranduil's decision, but there was no time to talk because the soldiers were surrounding them, and there was no misinterpreting Faramir's strict expression. Resigning, he dropped his sword. "You have what you wanted, Steward. Let the others go."

"Don't do that!" Barhit shouted from the side in a warning. "They will get help! There'll surely be a whole army of elves invading this house soon!"

"Silence, both of you!" Faramir rubbed his forehead in agitation, taking a deep breath and a look around for his men.

"There's still time to catch up with them," Beregond remarked hesitatingly. Faramir's loyal companion let it show clearly that he didn't know what to think about this newest development. The last months' worry had left deeper lines in his face than he should have at his age; his half-length dark hair was streaked with the first bit of grey … But Camhanar had never seen him look as old as today.

And just like the elves he was apparently also noticing, with growing worry, that a pool of blood was building on the floor, growing bigger and bigger. The arrow had hit a dangerous spot and needed to be removed immediately.

"Steward, we should …"

Faramir startled as if waking up from a bad dream and nodded. "Take a few soldiers and follow them. Don't attack them, don't show yourself. I want to know what they're planning."

"As you wish." In passing, Beregond regarded the elves with a look that gave Camhanar hope that they would be able to solve this whole situation without further damage soon. Not all the soldiers were as blind towards the obvious as the Steward.

"As for you …" Faramir turned to Thranduil, Tauriel, and Camhanar with tight lips, who were all giving the soldiers a hard time, stopping them from running to their leader. "You will follow my people to the prison cells, without another attempt at attack and without saying a word. Until I know what happened to the King, you're in my custody. My people will treat the wound."

With an impatient gesture, he sent most of his guards away and then finally turned to Barhit who had watched everything in satisfaction, with his arms crossed.

"The same goes for you; you will be taken to a cell as well. I expect no resistance. You are still an enemy of the realm, responsible for everything that your people do in your name for your group, and you will not receive any kind of absolution before this matter is solved. Given how quickly you had a suspect at hand, that person has been able to escape surprisingly easily."

Only now, Camhanar noticed, too, at the last moment before they were leaving and the door of the throne room closed behind them, that in the turmoil of battle, the Stewardaides with Erestor had run back outside as well.

So Faramir was at least not dazed enough yet to blindly trust his enemies. They had willingly played this dangerous game and lost – now this was all the hope they could expect to have.