Thanks again to the people who reviewed, favourited and alerted this story! I very much appreciate the gesture! Just a quick note, I've changed the rating of the story to M for this chapter.

Hope you enjoy!

-Periodic

Chapter Four: Come What May

"His eyes upon your face
His hand upon your hand
His lips caress your skin
It's more than I can stand"

Ewan McGregor – "El Tango De Roxanne"

Legolas found Gimli and Pippin in the tavern immediately after Aurelia had left him in the gardens. He considered for a moment upturning a table and picking a fight with one of the many gloomy patrons, but instead slid quietly onto the stool beside his friends. Little good his quiet entrance did him, he may as well have caused a scene for Gimli seemed to notice his friend's upset immediately.

"She's not a lass free for courtin'," he said bluntly, taking a swig of ale.

"I'm not looking to court her."

"No? Then why is she the one that throws you into these fits? I've known you to be a calm elf, not an angry one."

"It's not her that makes me angry, it's what she does," Legolas growled, and Gimli set down his tankard to watch his friend. "I have seen many years, known the corruption of court life, but this I find to…to horrific."

"Why?"

"Why?" Legolas turned to Gimli, his face twisted with incredulity and disgust. "Because it is wrong! It is the defilement of a sacred act – one meant to signify love and unity, but here is the acquirement of worldly goods and social stability. Because Denethor uses his people, uses her. Because she thinks she is protecting herself when there's another way. Because…because…"

"Because you care for her," Gimli finished and Legolas threw up his arms, shaking his head.

"I do not care for her," he said firmly. "I only think that as Boromir's friends we should look after those he cared for."

"Boromir cared for his father."

"Yes, well, he hasn't spoken to him recently has he?"

Gimli laughed and clapped Legolas on the shoulder, pausing to drain his tankard. "It's an ugly business, but there's not a thing you can do. Come on and have a drink with us then. Oi! Barkeep, or whatever the devil it is humans call you people. Aye, you, my friends and I will have another tankard of ale - only your finest mind."

With a shake of his head Legolas slid from his seat, nodding to Pippin and patting Gimli on the shoulder who looked disappointed but not surprised. "Thank you, but no. There's a family someone asked me to see to." His friends exchanged knowing glances.

"Aye, you've no feelings for her but you do her bidding," Pippin commented slyly.

"Barkeep, no more for the hobbit, he's had far too much already." He grinned as Pippin spluttered indignantly.

Once outside the smile quickly fell from Legolas' face and he drew his cloak tighter around himself before setting off down the streets. He entered the middle and then poorer districts, quickly becoming lost in thoughts. He had thought that when they had spoken last he might provoke Aurelia's temper; that she might curse at him, yell at him, and release all the rage she was surely holding inside. He had hoped to distract her with her anger, to lead her away from Denethor's harmful grasp, and he thought for a moment he had succeeded. Legolas had seen the fire spark in her green eyes, colour had risen in her cheeks making them a sweet, dusky hue, and her whole body had tensed as if she thought to fling herself at him and strike him. But then the ice had entered her heart and he had watched desperately as she became hard and distant once more.

Exhaling sharply, Legolas tried to clear his mind of her debauchery but unbidden images of Aurelia, and then Aurelia and Denethor rose to the surface.

He stood behind her unlacing the knot at her throat, letting the silvery cloak fall to the floor. She shivered as his aged hand traced from her bare collar up her throat, gathering that wild mane of hair and bringing it to his lips. He breathed in her scent, sighing and-

Legolas shook his head and tensed his shoulders against the cold wind.

She was turning to face him, letting her gown slip from her shoulders and fall rumpled at her feet, stepping out of it daintily to take the hand he held out for her. He held her at a distance to feast upon the firm roundness of her breasts; the sensuous dip of her waist; the sweet curve of her hips, but his was not the gentle gaze of a lover.

Legolas blinked angrily, murmuring beneath his breath.

He observed the dark plum colouring of her nipples; the tantalizing invite of her cherry mouth and his tongue slid across the crackling tissue of his parchment lips. Under his hungry stare she stood poised, the flesh of her thighs taught and quivering, balancing on the balls of her feet like a deer caught before the wolf. He longed to devour her.

Legolas lengthened his stride, welcoming the dull pain of his soft-shoed feet pounding the uneven cobbles as a distraction, though it was a poor one.

He pulled on her hand and then she was in his arms, her sweet mouth on his as her elegant fingers peeled away his robe. He grasped at her buttocks, pulling her youthful body against his own wasted frame, and then they were tumbling into the bed. He was kissing her lips, her neck, her breasts, delighting in the feel of her satin skin beneath his gluttonous mouth. His hips swiveled to possess her and his hot breath whispered in her ear: "You're my queen for the night." She gasped and moaned with him, for him, but her eyes never left the ceiling, and they were so empty, so devoid of any emotion it was as if her very soul had left as soon as she had entered his room.

"Daro!" Legolas cried out. He stopped in the middle of the street and passed a hand over his eyes to banish the thoughts that plagued him. He quickly realized that it had started to rain and he no longer knew where he was going, or in what direction he was meant to be heading.

Cursing under his breath, Legolas turned and knocked on the nearest door which was answered by a large, bearded man who had to stoop to look out the door.

"Wha' ye wan'? Oh! Er…'scuse me milord, I din' mean no disrespect like," he rumbled, shifting from foot to foot and looking extremely uncomfortable.

"I'm looking for someone: Lady Aurelia's maid Lhoseth, and her son Gemion."

"Well milord, I could be wrong but I think maids and the like usually stay with them they's serve-" he broke off hastily at Legolas' weary sigh. "But ye're in luck, cause Lhoseth's been stayin' at home recently with her husband and her husband's sister, what with their havin' a new babe and the boy bein' sick an' all. S'only a few streets over."

"A few streets over?" Legolas repeated, feeling relieved. He had not relished the long walk back in the rain.

"Aye ye cannae miss it. It's a big house let out te three families. Ye'll ken it by the noise it makes." The man said with a grin.

Legolas nodded and thanked the man, turning and continuing down the street. As he rounded the last corner Legolas understood why the man had given no further description of the home. Stopping outside the door the shrieks, wails, and shouts of alarm, anger and laughter spilled out the dilapidated house and into the street. Shaking his head Legolas knocked on the door, only to have it yanked open by a haggard looking woman with dirty blonde hair and darting eyes.

"Wha' ye- Oh! Beggin' yer pardon milord I-"

Legolas cut her off with a wave of his hand, not wanting to go through the groveling process again.

"I'm looking for Lhoseth," he said and the women frowned, her sharp eyes mistrustful. She obviously wanted to ask more questions, but on second thought leant back and shrieked,

"Lhoooossssseeeeettthhhh! Lhoseth! There's sam wan at the door foh ya!"

Another woman appeared: this one was smaller with sallow cheeks and unwashed hair that fell into her hollow eyes. She looked silently from the blonde woman to Legolas and drew in a shuddering breath.

"Thank you Candthêl." She looked away from the blonde who sneered and sauntered away, casting a curious glance over her shoulder.

Lhoseth dipped a curtsy before turning her wretched eyes to Legolas. She seemed to be a woman given up on hope. "Can I help you my lord?"

"Yes, I heard your son Gemion is ill. I came to try and treat him." He watched disbelief slacken her jaw.

"But who?- Lady Aurelia," She breathed, wonder lighting her tired eyes. "Oh, it must've been she! I only told her and no one else, and here I thought she didn't care! It was her, wasn't it my lord? It was Lady Aurelia?"

"I was asked not to reveal the person's identity," Legolas replied but this seemed to be all the answer she needed.

"Oh, that sweet lady is so modest, so kind! And to think I doubted her! Was angry with her even, and here she's sent me you, oh Valar be praised! Please come in, come in; bless your soul for coming!" Lhoseth seemed to have transformed. There was new energy in her scrawny body as she beckoned him in, singing Aurelia's praises. She even took hold of his arm to steer him to where her son lay.

A man, Legolas presumed to be Lhoseth's husband, looked up as he approached. His face was slack and gray with weariness but hope dawned in his eyes as wife hurriedly explained the situation.

"Please, take my seat," he said quickly, and in his haste to vacate the seat stumbled a bit. Legolas caught and steadied him, smiling grimly in thanks before sitting by the child's bed.

He gazed at the flushed, sweaty face of a boy no older than eight. Gemion's breathing was ragged and labored as it rattled from his chest. Legolas' mind turned back to his time spent with Aragorn, and the different illnesses and herb treatments he had learnt while in his friend's company. His memory quickly picked up the clues that would lead to a diagnosis: the boy's temperature, his breathing, his pulse, and Legolas set about to treating him. The boy would remain still for the most part as Legolas worked but every so often he would toss weakly, kicking a limb, mumbling deliriously, though even this seemed to drain what little energy he had left.

Legolas sat back and turned to Gemion's parents who seemed to be holding their breath. He reached into a purse kept on his belt and drew out several herbs, placing them in Lhoseth's shaking hands.

"Crush up these roots to extract their milk and give it to him after every meal. Finely chop these leaves and the stem of this herb and mix them together in a boiling pot. Do you have honey?" When they shook their heads Legolas reached into his money purse and pressed a gold coin into Lhoseth's other hand. "This should be more than enough to buy milk and honey. Heat these up and have him drink them as often as you can. That should break up the tar in his lungs. Keep him warm, lots of blankets and wrap up heated bricks and place them at his sides to help him sweat the sickness out. Remember to change the sheets as often as you can."

Lhoseth nodded quickly, a stunned look on her face. Her husband took Legolas' hand as he rose from the seat and shook it hard.

"Thank ye. Thank ye," he murmured thickly, his filmy blue eyes shimmering. Legolas nodded to him, and smiled at Lhoseth who beamed back.

"He should recover, but he will need lots of rest, clean air and quiet. I understand you live with two other families? I will go explain the situation and ask for their help in the matter. If there are any problems please contact me immediately."

Legolas turned to climb the rickety staircase to the landing when the shattering scream of a Nazgul echoed from outside. Spinning, the elf bolted out of the house, following the desperate wails of men down the maze of streets until he arrived near the gate. Soldiers along the city walls were uniformly loosing arrows at the Nazgul, which screamed once more before swooping back over the black mass of Sauron's army.

"What's happened here?" Legolas demanded, grabbing the shoulder of the nearest soldier.

"It's my Lord Faramir. His unit was destroyed but a few of his men managed to pull him onto a horse and get him back to Minas Tirith. They don't think he'll live to see the morning though." Tears slid down the man's weathered cheeks, clinging to the stubble on his chin before falling to the ground.

The cacophony of wretchedly frightened and angry men caught Legolas' attention and he watched the citizens of Gondor spill out onto the street. Their despairing shrieks filled the air as four horsemen fought through the crowds. One figure hung limp over his horse's neck, and the people converged about him, patting and pulling on his armour as if to wake him from his state of near death, only falling back when a soldier's horse reared suddenly.

"They're coming!" A voice on the walls shrieked suddenly. "Sauron's forces are moving: they're planning to attack! Warn the Steward! Defend the walls!" The watchman's voice caused another flurry of frenzied activity and somewhere in the distance a bell began to toll, it's desperate peals filling the air.

Legolas raced up the steps and to the wall, his heart shuddering to a stop as he saw the roiling masses of orcs that thundered outside Gondor's walls. His sharp eyes picked up movement by one of their towers and a great flaming missile was flung through the air to smash against the eastern section of the wall. A second missile was loaded, and Legolas' eyes widened as he saw the catapult aim towards the gate. Time slowed to be counted by the suddenly thunderous sound of his heart beating inside his chest. A-live, a-live a-live, it seemed to plead. With his elfin eyes sharpened by the rush of adrenaline, Legolas watched an orc wave its meaty arm in the direction of the gate –its gnarled finger seemed to single him out amongst the crowd of men. Alive, alive, alivealivealive… The flaming missile was loosed, and Legolas felt a beautiful sense of detachment envelope him.

The world erupted into chaos.