Another’s Guilt

Another’s Guilt by Númenora

Rating: NC-17, PG this chapter

Disclaimers and Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; AU, Mpreg. Un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

A/N: My take on the ‘mechanics or ‘the how’ of Mpreg will be touched upon in the next chapter, but in this one, there will be more on the elves’ search for Legolas as well as more info about the family Thranduilionnath. Everything concerning the particulars will of course be AU since all the children, except Legolas, are OC’s; I will tossed in just enough Tolkien ‘facts’ to be dangerous (**smirk**). I apologize for the lack of ‘Nitty-gritty’ and ‘getting-down-to-it’ in this chapter, but I had to get rid of the specter of Legolas’ ‘guilt and Aragorn’s hostility towards him out of the way. There will be heat next chapter, I promise! **Girl Scout persona firmly in place**

Thoughts and stressed words denoted **


Chapter Six

“Baring Witness”


Finrod applied more of the healing herb to the frightened mare’s hind legs, the front ones already bandaged. It had been one day ago since the Silvan elves had found her, her reins ensnared in the wild nettle bush—deep gashes caused by the vicious-looking thorns covered her lower body. She had been frightened, tired and was also lame in one leg. In order to calm the animal enough so that they could free her, Finrod and the others sang to her, eventually cutting the reins free.

Now, though less agitated, the mare was still quite disturbed; as far as he could determine, the animal had been running for hours, perhaps days. The few facts that he was sure of, was that the horse belonged to a man and that man had met with some kind of violence to which the mare had borne witness. Also, the animal had seen someone that she referred to as a child of light; Finrod was convinced that this ‘child’ was an elf—perhaps their lost Prince Legolas. Finrod and the other Silvans from Greenwood were attuned to nature, but the two younger members of the Royal family were more so; having inherited this gift from their mother who was said to be especially gifted. He was convinced that Arminas would be able to learn more.

“There, mellon—this should help you heal. Now, if only I could get you to take more than water; you can not go help your friend and mine if you are too weak from hunger in addition to all else that ails you, now can you?” Finrod smiled, thinking how very intelligent this particular horse was; perhaps if she were less so, she would not be so distraught.

A noise caught Finrod’s attention—and the horse’s as well, for it tried to flee. The elf healer hated fettering the injured animal, but in her present state, it had been necessary. He attempted to calm her again and was himself quite relieved when he heard the excited voices of his fellow elves as they welcomed the Princes Thranduilionnath and their Lórien brethren.

“Your Highnesses—over here; but gently though.” Finrod called barely above a whisper, but plenty loud for Elven hearing.

As the brothers, Haldir and the other elves approached them, the mare became excited, but not fearfully so. She tried to pull from Finrod’s grip as he caressed her coat, looking directly towards Arminas.

The younger Prince locked gazes with her and smiled and she calmed immediately. His brother Oropher (though he’d witness Arminas and Legolas commune with both flora and fauna many times), he, along with the others present, were amazed to see the interaction.

“Suilad, Pen-vuil (greetings, Dear One),” Arminas said, stroking the chestnut mare’s mane. “Easy, for I do not understand. That’s it—tell me what troubles you, Mellon-nin.”

As he listened for some time, his emerald eyes became quite wide, alerting his brother and Haldir that something important was imminent. “She has seen Legolas—I am sure of it!”

“How can you be sure, Tôr dithen (younger brother)?” Oropher inquired.

“Because she thinks that I was with her master; she is thanking me for scaring off his attackers—some unsavory edain. But she wants to know where he is and how he fares.” He smiled and laughed gently, “She calls me ‘Child of Light.’ If that is not our Little Leaf, then it is no one!”

Arminas had every reason to believe that the animal was speaking of Legolas, for although Arminas and Oropher had their adar’s eye and hair color, he and Legolas had their mother’s fair completion and fine bone structure. She had been quite beautiful with white-gold hair, cerulean blue eyes and the gentlest soul of any being living in the known World; and Legolas was her very image made male.

Oropher, who did not share the same birth parent as his siblings, looked like Thranduil and the Prince’s sire Edrahil, who was slain by Woodmen while on patrol in Northern Greenwood. The Woodmen and the Beornings had been living in Central and Northern Greenwood for centuries at the generosity and gratitude of King Thranduil, having helped to rouse Orc and other servants of Evil out of Dol Guldur after the Sauron was expelled by the White Company in TA 2941.

But disputes over territory had erupted between the two groups and the Woodmen had become fearful that the elves had taken the Beornings’ side over theirs; and so, a small group of radicals attacked Edrahil and his party of elves, killing him and several others before the Silvans rallied and slew them. King Thranduil had been devastated and in his grief, he and his Elite Army of Warriors (many who had fought against Sauron in the Last Alliance) attacked the Woodmen and captured their leaders, imprisoning them and expelling the rest as well as the Beornings—forbidding all Men to enter Greenwood on pain of death.

He would have faded from his grief, not having someone like Edrahil to care and advise him, but he did have Edrahil’s child Oropher whom they named in honor of the late King. This wise and noble elf had been there when Thranduil’s father was slain and he had helped the new King to lead his people as Oropher would have wished; making Greenwood a great Elven realm. And in the intervening years, Edrahil also won Thranduil’s love, becoming his Consort and most trusted Seneschal (advisor or counselor).

Prince Oropher had been very young (just 300 years) when his sire died and for the longest time, it had just been the King and him. He loved and missed his ada (referred to as ‘Da) very much; but a very beautiful Noldo elleth from Lothlórien arrived in Eryn Lasgalen with the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel and managed to, not only steal the King’s lonely heart, but the young Crowned Prince’s as well. They bonded and eventually added two more elflings to this loving group.

Oropher blinked back tears of sadness and joy from the past as he continued to listen to Arminas speak with the chestnut mare. The young Prince informed them that the men (who’d attacked the young adan) fled, taking the mare with them after the ‘Child of Light’ appeared. They’d ridden her hard for many hours until they stopped in a dark wood, where others like them awaited. These rough beings fought over her master’s things and, when one tried to take her away with him, another man knocked that one to the ground, allowing her to flee into the surrounding wood. She tried to get back to her friend, but lost her way in the unfamiliar terrain.

“The poor thing had been running for days, but she is most grateful to you, Finrod for dressing her wounds and giving her water.” The lovely Prince placed a kiss on her muzzle.

“She is most welcomed, but could you see if you can get her to eat something?” Finrod smiled fondly at the animal.

“I will try. Do you suppose that we will be able to find where her friend fell?” Arminas asked.

Haldir answered, “When she is physically up to travel, perhaps we will be able to retrace her steps—being careful to avoid these thieves.”

“Then, we will make sure that she improves; isn’t that right, Carnil (red)?” Arminas said, calling the horse by name.

“Is that her name?” Oropher asked of his brother.

“It is; and we shall be great friends.” The younger Thranduilion stated, handing the animal some soft grass to eat.

Finrod as well as the others were very pleased to see his patient eating and he left the animal in Arminas’ capable hands. He then joined with Haldir and the elder Prince; now very optimistic, the three of them began to formulate a new search plan to find Legolas.

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Aragorn looked squarely at his cousin Boromir, not sure if he’d heard correctly. “Faramir wishes to thank him? Truly?”

Boromir smiled. “Truly; it would seem that I got it awfully wrong,” He stated wryly.

Aragorn answered his smile with one of his own. Then, he turned to Legolas who was sitting a little ways away, head bowed dejectedly. Walking carefully over to where he sat, he kneeled next to him and spoke, “Your Highness?” When the elf failed to answer, he continued, “Faramir is once again awake and would like to speak with you.”

Legolas lifted his face to Aragorn. No tears were in his blue eyes, but the sadness there tore at Aragorn’s heart—sadness that he knew was his fault. The Gondoran Prince lifted a hand to touch Legolas’ face, but the elf flinched away, giving Aragorn a look of profound distrust.

Dropping his hand away, the Peredhel stood, speaking gently. “Come, I will take you to him.” He offered his hand to assist the Elven Prince to stand, but he once again resisted Aragorn’s touch and stood on his own perfect bare feet.

Legolas walked ahead of Aragorn and, passing Boromir, went over to where Faramir lay, Lord Marach and Éomer flanking his supine form. He stood at Faramir’s feet until the Gondoran healer waved him over to the young Diplomat’s side, opposite him.

Legolas was trembling inside, but he refused to let these mortals see it. So he lifted his chin proudly and sat with his legs crossed in a similar fashion as he’d done when he had communed with the little vole earlier. The blond Prince watched as Lord Marach touched the wounded young man’s shoulder, whispering to him. “Faramir—he is here.”

Faramir opened his eyes and then turned towards Legolas when the elder dúnadan nodded to his position. His violet gaze looked intently at Legolas, the elf wanting desperately to flee. His brave stance from earlier with Aragorn abandoned him; his heart nearly beating out of his chest as he waited for this young man to seal his fate, accusing him before all.

“It was you—I thought that I dreamed it all,” Faramir said, violet eyes looking into sea-blue ones.

Legolas did not look away; the only outward sign that he was frightened were his bound hands balled tightly in his lap. He barely noticed Aragorn watching him closely or Boromir as he stood next to Éomer just over the Prince’s shoulder. He just waited.

Faramir’s right hand lifted weakly towards Legolas, a brilliant smile accompanying it. The Sindarin was caught off guard at first, but returned Faramir’s smile at the man’s next words.

“You saved my life; I have no words to properly thank you.”

“You do not have to thank me for I feel responsible for your injury. Had I not come along when I did, you would not have been distracted, giving those vile men the upper hand.” Legolas said in accented Westron, lifting his bound hands to take Faramir’s.

When the young dúnadan noticed the ropes, he frowned deeply. “You are bound! Why is he bound?” He asked of his companions.

“I am to blame, Cousin. When we found you bleeding and near death, I blamed Legolas for your injuries.” Aragorn was looking at Legolas as he spoke, contrition in his eyes as he spoke.

“Why did you not question him about what happened to me?” The younger Steward-prince asked logically.

Aragorn moved to kneel next to Legolas, removing the elf’s bonds as he answered Faramir. “Because one doesn’t ask for answers to questions he thinks he knows. In other words—I was being quite arrogant and unjust.”

He paused in his task to face the Greenwood immortal. “I will not insult you by expecting you to forgive my actions—they are unforgivable; but I will offer you my deep-felt apology for my ill treatment of you.”

Legolas met his stare unflinchingly, noting the man’s seeming sincerity. Under different circumstances, he wouldn’t have hesitated to accept; but this adan had threatened his life and had ignored his plight without ever considering his innocence. Legolas had felt constant fear from the moment Aragorn forced him to the ground, up until just a few moments ago; he was not ready to just forget all of this. So he remained silent as he continued to meet the blue-green stare of the Gondoran Prince.

Aragorn nodded, understanding Legolas’ reaction to his apology and went back to removing the rope from around the Sindar’s bandaged wrists.

“You take on too much, Your Highness,” Boromir stated. “You are not alone in this; I am also to blame, failing to look beyond what we saw. My Lord, I would add my apology to my Cousin’s and if it takes me the remainder of my days, I will endeavor to make amends.”

Legolas’ interactions with Boromir had been few during his captivity, the man continuing to stay near his brother. But the young elf blamed all these edain equally—except for Aragorn (who was the most culpable) and Lord Marach, who showed him only kindness; the young Ranger who tried to feed him that second day; and of course, Faramir to whom he bore no ill feelings.

“We all could have done better towards you, sir. I, too, beg your pardon; our love and concern for Faramir blinded us to all else. I do not offer this as an excuse, but as an explanation, only.” Éomer had moved next Lord Marach so that he could speak face to face with the Prince.

“It is not necessary for you to accept any of this right now, if ever, Legolas,” The Gondoran healer told him.

“Thank you, Hir-nin,” The beautiful Prince smiled at this man he considered his friend. His hands now free, he turned back to Faramir who was looking concernedly at him.

The auburn-haired mortal had noticed the bandages on Legolas’ wrists and also the bruises on his ankles. When the elf looked towards him, he saw tears pooled in his violet blue depths.

“You are hurt.” His voice trembled as he ran his fingers on the dressings adorning the pale wrists.

Legolas smiled reassuringly, touched by this gentle mortal. “I am healing—fear not, Mellon-nin.” He graced Lord Marach with smile as well, acknowledging his care and compassion.

Legolas did not notice, but two observers of these exchanges were experiencing another emotion in addition the earlier remorse—jealousy. Aragorn and Éomer were frowning as Legolas and Faramir held hands, beaming fondly at each other. They each longed to see those smiles aimed their way.

Of course, this was nothing new for Éomer, having been in love with Faramir for years, feeling envious whenever his sister Éowyn monopolized the Gondoran’s time . But, Aragorn was not used to this level of envy; never having been in love before (only boyhood crushes and infatuations), he did not recognize the signs. He only knew that he wanted Prince Legolas to like him, knowing at the same time that he had no right to expect it.

The blond Prince laughed when Faramir yawn loudly, adding a smirk at the young man’s sheepish grin afterwards. “You should rest, Faramir as you are still healing.” Faramir liked the sound of his name coming from Legolas, the elf’s accent quite charming.

When Legolas finished speaking, Faramir became serious. “I can’t imagine that you have slept well these past days; you should rest as well.”

“I will rest, but I will see you asleep first.” Legolas became serious as well. “I am pleased that you are better; I was very concerned for you. But I must confess that, even though I was genuinely afraid for your safety, I was concerned for selfish reasons as well—for that, I am ashamed.”

“You should not be; had I been in a similar position, I would have felt the same.” Faramir yawned again, laughing as he did so. “Excuse me!”

“You are so excused—and hannon le for your understanding.” Legolas cupped Faramir’s bearded cheek, watching as his extraordinary eyes closed.

He turned away from the sleeping man and found himself staring at Aragorn who had a most peculiar look upon his handsome face. He didn’t understand it, but for some reason, he felt sorry for the Gondoran; but on the heels of this revelation, Legolas chastised himself for it. He would save his compassion for Faramir, having received none from this human.

Aragorn excused himself, not being able to meet the hard stare from the lovely Prince. When he had gone, Lord Marach asked Legolas if wanted to go for a walk. When he accepted, the two went in an opposite direction from the Gondoran Prince.

As they walked by several of the guards and Rangers, Legolas looked unflinchingly towards each one he passed, having been exonerated. But he was caught off balance when Girion, the Ranger who had been the most violent and cruel to him, came up to them blocking their path. Legolas was prepared to defend himself; though he carried no weapons, he was no longer bound which gave him a better chance to protect himself.

Girion stood for what seemed like hours (but was only seconds) just staring until Lord Marach moved slightly, pushing the young elf behind him. This seemed to galvanize the dúnadan soldier into action and he fell to one knee before Legolas. “My Lord; I have been informed that Lord Faramir awakened to absolve you of all wrong-doing.” He looked up with an intense expression of shame. “I treated you most vilely and have disgraced myself as a descendant of Númenor and a Ranger.”

“Many here have shared in your actions, Girion.” The Senior Healer told him.

“No, My Lord Marach. My behavior has surpassed all others; if one of my fellow Rangers had not stopped me, I would have slain this elf as he slept. I thought that Lord Faramir had died when I saw His Highness and Lord Boromir weeping over him; becoming angry, I drew my sword. For this, most of all, I am ashamed.

"When we return to the outpost, I will formally ask that I be brought up for disciplinary actions, having already informed Prince Aragorn and my superiors here. To try and make amends, I will offer you my sword, swearing to protect you with my very life—or die trying!” As he finished, he stood with his hand over his heart, eyes towards the ground respectfully.

Legolas did not know what to say to this, finding these mortals enigmatic and rather mercurial. He looked to the healer for guidance as the man continued to stand before them.

Lord Marach was very familiar with this soldier; the man was hot-headed and brash, but the Nobleman had always found him to be earnest and loyal. He had no doubts that Girion was sincere; but Legolas had no way of knowing this, so he answered for the Elven Prince.

“We appreciate your candor and I am sure that when our guest has had time to ponder your offer, he will let you know if he will be accepting your protection. Now, why don’t you return to your duties, Girion?” The Ranger bowed to Lord Marach and to Legolas, moving off to attend to his duties.

“Thank you, Hir-nin. I must confess that nothing seems real to me now that the truth has surfaced. I am very happy that it has, but I feel as if I am dreaming and will awaken to find that all this was just a fantasy,” he admitted.

They walked over to the spot where the Prince left his boots and when Legolas looked down, he noticed a bedroll and a small leather pack. The Ranger who had been assigned to guard Legolas for that day was still standing nearby; so the elf glanced his way. This man (called Dior), seeing the curious frown on the Elda’s face, said, “Girion left his bedroll and some things he thought that you could use.”

Legolas stooped down to peak inside of the pack, becoming excited in spite of himself. There were several items: A bar of soap, two soft cloths, a cup, some salves for minor scrapes and—this last item making him want to shriek like an elfling—a comb.

Lord Marach hid a fond smirk behind his hand, “This is a standard grooming kit given to soldiers and Rangers.”

“Then these are his personal items?” Legolas was dubious about taking this man’s things.

“Only the bedroll, My Lord; Girion said that this pack came from among the extras we carry in case someone loses his.” Dior explained.

“I will have to thank him for these things.” Legolas repacked the bag and donned his shoes, rejoining the healer for their walk. Dior followed a few feet behind, guarding them as they entered the sparse woods.

Legolas kept glancing back at the man, but Lord Marach offered him his assurance that the Gondoran was only doing his duty to keep them safe, though there wasn’t much danger with several Rangers and Rohirrim guards stationed throughout the area surrounding their camp. They went for several yards, eventually coming to an open area and sat on a downed tree trunk.

Twilight had fallen and as they looked up to the darkening sky, Legolas allowed himself to savor the feeling of being free as he admired the stars and the rising full moon.

“At home on nights such as this, I would lay upon the ground and stare up at the stars for hours until Ada would send one of my brothers to fetch me.” The Prince smiled in remembrance. “He would try and be most stern and disapproving, telling me that it is not good for me to forgo supper. It would always be the same: I would list the treats that the servants from the kitchens gave me to eat and he would say, ‘Well, as long as you ate something—though I missed your sweet face at the table.’ I would kiss him and he’d send me off to bed.”

He became silent for a while and Lord Marach allowed him to take his time. The healer’s heart went out to the young elf as crystal tears ran down his pale cheeks. “I miss him so much.” He turned to the dúnadan, looking like a small elfling. “I want to go home—will you take me?”

“I will speak to Aragorn about getting you back to your ada and brothers. Now, I don’t know about you, but I could do with some supper; let us go see what ‘treats’ we can scare up!” The Senior Healer spoke cheerfully, but he felt deep sympathy for this child and he told himself that he would do everything within his power to see him home again.

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When Aragorn returned to camp, he immediately looked for the beautiful Elda. Finding him gone, the Gondoran Prince began to panic, not noticing that Lord Marach and Legolas’ assigned guard were missing as well. He was about to question one of the nearby Rangers about this when he heard his mentor’s chortle and Legolas’ musical laughter coming from beyond the camp’s perimeter.

Though he was relieved to see them, his earlier panic made him short, temper rising as he confronted the jovial pair. “Where have you been? I came back to camp to find you gone.” He said without preamble, looking sternly at Legolas.

“He was with me and the steadfast Dior here, Aragorn; there is no need for concern.” His former teacher informed the Prince.

Legolas became irritable, tiring of this adan’s mutable behavior. “Am I still your prisoner despite Lord Faramir’s testimonial concerning my innocence?”

“Nay, Your Highness; but you are under my protection while you are among us. You should not have left this camp without my knowledge!” He was just as irritable. Lord Marach stared closely at Gondor’s heir and he became suspicious that there was more to this than simply Aragorn’s ire.

“There was no harm done, Highness—we shall remember this for future reference. But for now, we seek sustenance; is that not right, Prince Legolas?”

Legolas was still staring suspiciously at the young Royal, but answered his friend’s query, “That is correct, Hir-nin.”

“Then, I will not keep you further.” Aragorn turned to go, but was halted by the healer.

“Before we leave you, Aragorn; I would speak to you about getting Legolas back to Greenwood the Great.”

“What about it?” He asked cautiously.

“I thought that since we are so close to the outpost, there is no need for a full compliment of guards; which would make it advantageous for you to take several and make for Lothlórien. I am sure that Lady Galadriel would be willing to help our friend get back home.” Lord Marach watched as alarm flashed across the Peredhel’s features.

“That won’t be possible, Lord Marach. Legolas will have to go to Gondor first.” The elf’s eyes widened at this.

“Why must I go there? I was on my way to Lórien with my brothers when I became separated from them during an Yrch attack—I am sure that my kin have already contacted the Lord and Lady. There is no reason for me to go to your city of stone!” The Elven Prince was livid.

Aragorn knew that he was being unreasonable, but he did not want to let Legolas leave him. *Leave me?* He frowned and Legolas thought that it was aimed at him. He had no way of knowing that the dúnadan was struggling with his own inner turmoil.

“I should be escorted to the Golden Wood; if you do not want to spare your men, then I will go alone.” He said bravely, though the very thought of being alone again in these unfamiliar lands filled him with dread.

“Nay, Legolas—you are needed in Gondor and that is where I will take you.”

“Aragorn, you are making no sense.” Lord Marach was becoming a bit irritable as well.

“I make perfect sense, My Lord. Legolas is a witness to what happened to Faramir and if we are to find these men and bring them to justice, then we will need his help. You want to help Faramir, don’t you?” Aragorn was grasping at straws, but he did not want to let the Elda go just yet.

“Yes, of course, I wish to help him. But I do not know where these men are or how to track them.” He glanced over to where Faramir lay sleeping still.

“Perhaps not, but you saw them and as an elf, your sight is quite keen; you can give an accurate description of them and put your testimony on the record for when they are found. Also, my father, as you now know, is High King and he can contact your father by way of Lady Galadriel through diplomatic channels.” His explanation sounded quite reasonable (though thin at best) and he congratulated himself on his ingenuity whilst simultaneously quashing the guilt that began rising under the surface.

“I...I...” Words were failing Legolas as he faced this dilemma: On the one hand, he knew that Lady Galadriel would get him home to his ada; but he wanted to help the kind young man Faramir find justice. Perhaps it was not so far to Gondor and Aragorn’s father would be able to accomplish the same thing and get him home again. He should have asked how far Gondor actually was before he spoke, but he didn’t and his next words made Aragorn’s heart sing with happiness.

“Very well, Ernilen (My Prince)—I will go to Gondor.”

TBC.

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