Disclaimer: I own nothing whatsoever. Please do not sic lawyers on me, we have a bad history. Thank you.

AN: Um…It’s-- /shrieks and flees from the angry mass of readers\ Hey now! After all this time, wasn’t it nice to see that little alert in your email? No? Well… uh… uh… just… go read the chapter. I’ll see you all at the bottom with notes and a funny little story, if you promise not to harm me in any way shape or form. Special Thanks go to MythicalCreature, LovewithWars, and Alenor Peredhel for nudging my lazy arse into gear.

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He came back into awareness with a start upon hearing soft, troubled voices. Half of his brain automatically took stock of his now-numerous injuries, while the other half occupied itself with discerning the reason for the sadness in the unknown voices.

His latest ‘acquisition’ was throbbing, but not enough to linger upon it. The healers had most likely stitched the wound and administered some sort of numbing salve. The original knife wound merely itched like mad, a sure sign that it was healing. The burns across his shoulders were the most irritating for obvious reasons: no matter how one positions oneself, the stretched and blistered skin would be put under pressure of some kind. He felt his brow crease slightly as he realized that even though he was supported by several very soft bolsters, his upper back felt as if it was aflame.

“There now, see?” Aragorn. The elf allowed his eyes to refocus and eyed his friend wearily. The king was addressing three of his guards, all of whom were watching Legolas in something close to amazement. “He was simply sleeping.”

One of the men stepped forward, and even in his vague haze, Legolas recognized the man who had had his throat cut. He bore a strong resemblance to one of the others, they were most likely brothers. The man’s hand twitched uncertainly near his collar, which was open enough to reveal white bandages. The room was not large by any means, and the Gondorian looked as if he wished it was a hundred times as big.

Legolas allowed a smile to form at the man’s obvious discomfort. “I do not bite. And I certainly wouldn’t try to bite one as lucky as you. It is not often that one survives such a wound.” He turned his gaze to Aragorn for the briefest of moments. “One would think that you should still be abed and not back in livery so soon.”

The man shrugged, put at ease by Legolas’s friendly manner. “Tis my duty, milord. I cannot be persuaded to stray from it for long. I came to thank you.”

The elf waved a slender hand. “For what? By all accounts, you were the one who saved me by placing yourself between myself and my attacker. For that, I thank you. Also, I thank you for the use of your sword. It was a lifesaver.” He smiled and looked past the man at the other two. “Who are you?”

“I am Dail, and this is Pran. We are two of the men who rode out after you.”

The elf’s countenance hardened. “’After’ seems to be the key word in the sentence. Why did it take you so long to ride to my assistance? Surely you realized that I would need help?”

Taken aback, the two men stuttered wildly. “M-milord, we could—“

“Could what?” Legolas demanded, now furious. “Could not see fit to help a defenseless citizen? Could not deem yourselves lowly enough to help a mere elf? Perhaps you should be stripped of your duties for a time. What do you think, King Aragorn?”

Aragorn stared speechlessly first at his friend, upright and staring vengefully, and then at his guards, who were swiftly turning red with fury. His mind raced as he tried to decide how to handle this suddenly sour confrontation.

A soft voice interrupted the tension in the small room. “My dear Legolas, stop torturing them.” Arwen entered the room, bringing with her a sense of calm and peace. “They are not accustomed to your odd sense of humour.”

Legolas smiled cheerfully and replied, “Then I shall ask that they never come to Eryn Lasgalen. A war would be started within minutes.”

A moment of silence followed this remark, then the scowls on the faces of the guards melted away and they exchanged grins and approving noises. They stayed for several minutes longer; falling into an easy conversation with the elf before Aragorn subtly kicked them out, saying that they all had duties to attend to.

The instant the door shut behind them, he turned on Legolas, eyes bright with anger and slight amusement. “Just what were you thinking? You were very lucky that they are an easy-going group. If they had been any one else, you could have started something unpleasant!”

Arwen sat near the bed and offered Legolas a view of little Eldarion, snuggled deep inside a blanket. “Oh Aragorn, you know as well as I that our wood-elf is an excellent judge of character. You have nothing to worry about. The most that will happen will be stories of Legolas’s acting talent. Would you like to hold him, Greenleaf?”

The elf eyed the child warily before deciding that if nothing horrid had happened before, nothing would happen now. Besides, he was in a bed. If Eldarion happened to wriggle free, he would have a little drop onto a soft mattress. Shrugging mentally he nodded and Arwen handed her son over.

The king sighed and quietly left the room, promising to return as soon as possible. He was going to have to deal with the men who had attacked his best friend.

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Aragorn did not bother to look up from the leather tome in his lap as the door opened. Four men entered, leading the three attackers behind them. There was a bit of a tussle when one of the men didn’t move quickly enough for the guards liking. Aragorn ignored it all until he sensed that the three men were where they ought to be.

“Assault with intent to harm or kill,” he said softly, raising his head to look each of them in the eyes. “The three of you conspired to kill Prince Legolas, did you not?” None of the men responded, and Aragorn pressed onward. “That is considered treason I’ll have you know. Since you failed in your unsavory ‘task’, you will not be put to death. This leaves imprisonment as punishment. I ask you now, why did you try to kill the prince? I am under the impression that he has never done you any harm.”

“Be that as it may, your majesty, perhaps it was the idea of the Prince that had offended them.”

Aragorn just barely managed to avoid looking startled at the intrusion. “I beg your pardon, Milast? The idea of Prince Legolas?”

The advisor nodded unhappily. “Perhaps these men are of a…shall I say unkind opinion toward elves?”

Aragorn kept his focus on the men, and noted a slight motion as the advisor voiced his theory. “Is this true?”

The men shuffled a bit, and to Aragorn’s perceptive eye, two of them seemed rather ruffled at the remark. The third remained calm. “Your majesty, we have nothing against the elves. We were merely doing as we were told.”

The former Dunedain’s eyebrows snapped together. When he spoke, the men quailed. “And what exactly were you told to do?”

“We were told…” the man swallowed before forging onward. “We were told that if we could permanently disable the prince—“he faltered for an instant as thunderheads began to brew on Aragorn’s forehead, “then we would be paid handsomely for our trouble.”

Oh, there’s going to be trouble all right, though Aragorn fiercely. “You are mercenaries?”

“Of a sort,” the other replied hesitantly.

“You are not anymore,” the king said decisively, picking up his book once more. “It will be rather difficult to run your filthy business while you are rotting in a prison for the rest of your days. Good bye.”

The stricken looks on the men’s faces as they were led away served to allow a small smile on Aragorn’s face.

That smile dissipated quickly though, as he thought about the man’s words.

Like it or not, and as one who had been raised with the elves, Aragorn knew that there was much strife between the two races. Men resented the elves for their seemingly purposeful detachment from the rest of the world. To some, it seemed as if the firstborn (a title that rankled the more prideful of the men) were trying to keep themselves separate from the ‘lower classes’. The elves on the other hand, tended to view men as boorish, greedy, unmindful beings who wanted nothing more than to better themselves in the world.

Of course, it was not like that everywhere. More often than not, if one were to put elf and human in the same room, they would emerge with a higher respect for the other. Aragorn rubbed his temples. Before he became the king of Gondor, he had not been aware that tension between the two races was becoming so thick. He knew that some men were not overly fond of the elves, for he had seen slavers, mercenaries, and yes, even hunters. But he also knew that sometimes the elves provoked such attention. The first born in Lorien and Rivendell did not encounter men very often, and only those in the woodland realm ever made much contact with the outside beings. He knew that even Legolas would admit that the wood-elves did not always handle men well.

But it was mostly a case of misunderstanding and stereotyping. After all, not all men disliked the elves to the degree where they tried to exterminate or enslave them. Not all elves, on the other hand, hated men or saw them as creatures trying to gain a higher place.

A soft sigh escaped him and he stood, intending to walk to his chambers and try and forget the whole ordeal. He wistfully remembered the days when he didn’t have to worry about things like this. But in having both an elvish wife and best friend, not to mention the settlement of Ithilien nearby, he could easily see the ever-growing conflict. He just hoped that the slowly heating tempers would not come to a boil anytime soon.

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Kale shifted absentmindedly as he cleaned his sword. His neck throbbed as he turned his head slightly to look more closely at a miniscule burr near the hilt. Several more minutes passed before he deemed the blade clean. He stood and sheathed the weapon, wondering how in the world that skinny elf had managed to defeat three opponents with such a heavy weapon.

How he wished he could have seen that! Unfortunately, the cut across his throat had held his full attention, and he hadn’t even been aware that his sword was gone until his brother had presented it to him as he had left the healing room.

Much to Dail and Pran’s amusement, Kale had insisted upon visiting the elf after hearing of the events that happened after his downfall. They had indulged him and made their way to the prince’s room, only to discover –much to their horror- Legolas flat on his back with his hands folded across his chest and his eyes open and glazed.

It had taken much convincing and calming on the king’s part before they allowed themselves to be persuaded that elves slept with their eyes open. Of course, Legolas’ awakening had helped matters too.

Kale grinned to himself as he remembered the sudden coolness of the prince’s tone as he began haughtily reprimanding Pran and Dail. Looking back, he saw the stricken looks of his brother and Pran as they tried to explain, and then the growing rage, and finally the pure shock as they realized it was all an act. The Gondorian intended on seeking out the prince and congratulating him. Dail and Pran were notoriously hard to fool, and yet they had fallen for it. He pointedly overlooked the fact that he too was about to open his mouth and let loose a barrage of insults before Queen Arwen entered the room.

His short reminiscing period was cut short as the sounds of a nearby struggle reached his ears. He got to his feet and charged towards the alley from which the noises emanated.

He arrived on the scene in a matter of seconds, sword drawn and ready to settle the peace. Much to his surprise, the small side street was utterly deserted. He took a single step forward and was instantly set upon by two ferocious men. It was over in less than ten heartbeats.

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Arwen made her way through the streets without too much incident, other than the admiring looks cast her way by many people. She kept her head high but she was not above making eye contact and smiling. Her simple clothing, a deep violet dress with matching slippers, did not drip wealth or haughty arrogance. She might as well have been on her way to sit in the garden rather than out roaming the streets.

This, more than anything, made her seem more like a maiden you would want to befriend than a queen.

She moved quickly and lightly, seeming almost to float across the cobblestones and making her guard appear almost clumsy in comparison. A small nod here, a quick smile there, and then she was at the House of Healing and inside.

She enjoyed the calm atmosphere here, as it reminded her of her father’s home in her youth. It carried the same sense of rejuvenation. There were no raised voices, rarely any noises at all save for the patter of soft-soled healers’ shoes as they scurried about from room to room, making certain all was well.

It wasn’t a particularly large building, Arwen mused as she approached Legolas’ room, but it never seemed cramped, no matter how many people were darting here and there.

She knocked gently on the door, acknowledged a passing man, and cautiously opened the oaken door. “Hello, Legolas,” she began in Elvish. “Aragorn sent me to make sure you were—“she broke off and stared at the empty bed in consternation, “not out of bed and causing trouble,” she finished, somewhat lamely.

She stepped closer to the bed to make sure her friend had not fallen off the opposite side before retreating back to the door and eyeing the room critically. The bed was unmade, the coverlet trailing onto the floor and the sheets twisted. Her sharp eyes caught sight of small droplets of red upon the white linen and she felt her stomach twist in concern.

Without a second glance, she rushed out the door and down the hall, ignoring the confused and concerned looks sent her way. Legolas was missing, and she dearly hoped he was well. If she found him walking around outside on the streets, she would not bother to go to Aragorn, she would berate him herself for causing her to panic.

She did not want to entertain the notion that perhaps Legolas’ disappearance had been forced.

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AN: Well was that worth the wait? \ducks flying objects/ heh heh! Let me know how Arwen is coming along. I’m very nervous with her character, especially because we don’t really see much of her in the books or movies even. But I don’t want to leave her out because I’m scared to write her…. Do you see my dilemma?

So anyways, just a funny note: Lately I’ve rediscovered my childhood love for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Hey, no laughing… I love ‘em! (I canna decide who is my fav, but that’s ok…) All of my friends are teasing me about it… Anyways, I think I’ve been spending too much time immersed in their universe… I meant to start writing this earlier, but when I opened the new document and began to ponder what to write, all the came to mind was Aragorn and Legolas reclining on a sofa, eating pizza, and saying ‘dude’ in every other sentence. Needless to say I screeched and slammed the top of my laptop down… lol!

Hey guys, even though I left you all hanging for awhile, I still like reviews! Alenor Peredhel, LovewithWars, Tsukari0504, lillypop, Aimme, ArodieltheElfofRohan, StrangerToTheWorld, rivendellelve, MythicalCreature and invisigoth3 all rock for reviewing chapter five.