Aragorn stared at the elleth in front of him, an immortal elleth, an elleth

"No…" he whispered in elvish, "Oh Valar, please…please no."

He knelt next to her and looked at her, it was Lamaeneth! Lamaeneth! She couldn't die, she was immortal…pestering immortal.

"Estel?" she said softly, drawing his eyes to meet her own. She smiled at him. "Estel, do not…not blame yourself, I know you will, but try not to. You will make a great king someday Aragorn…"

"Hush, save your energy, we need to heal you…"

She laughed lightly, "So much hope for such a human, your people will look to you. Estel…if you see him…tell my brother…tell him it wasn't his fault. About our lady, tell him…I am glad he couldn't go. And tell him…tell him I love him, and I will see him someday."

Aragorn could hear and arrow whizzing by his head, could hear the sounds of battle, could feel Legolas at him shoulder, fending off attackers. He took comfort from the presence of the prince, and he looked at Lamaeneth.

Her eyes closed and her head slid limply to the side.

Aragorn felt a million emotions all at once, sadness, fear, hurt, pain, guilt. And rage. A blind sense of anger took over as he lay the elleth on the ground.

As he dove into the mass of humans, weaving his sword in and out he thought about her.

Arwen's best friend, another fell to his sword.

Apprentice healer with amazing talent, one of Elrond's best…he slashed, ending the life of another of her murderers.

Sister…younger? Or elder? I know not…he watched another man sink to the ground, his eyes white with death.

And then nothing. The tide of men had stopped, Godead, Cairdor, and Caireth were gone…missing.

He felt someone's hand on his shoulder and turned to look, it was Legolas. The elf stil had bruises on his cheeks, the little lines of Cairdor's knife dotted his body, and on the back of both hand the C Cairdor had carved remained. On his stomach Aragorn could see the burn from the brand.

His guilt overwhelm him and he turned away, shame and fear glinting in his eyes.

"Legolas…oh Legolas. I am…I…forgive me. I do not deserve your friendship, I killed her, I hurt you, forgive me…if you can. I won't, can't blame you if you don't. I betrayed you…" he murmured. It was all his fault…all his fault. The cuts on Legolas, the brand. The lashes on Glorfindel's back…the bruise on Elladan's face. The lost life of Lamaeneth.

His fault.

"Estel…Valar Estel, you don't believe we blame you, do you?"

When the human failed to respond Legolas turned him around and met his gaze, the emotion in the silver eyes was staggering; all he needed to know could be found in the silver pools. "No. Estel, you are not our betrayer, you are our hope," the elf said tenderly.

The man refused to meet his gaze, choosing instead to glance downward, finding the dirt beneath their feet most interesting. "Estel?" Legolas prompted.

"I…but…I…"

"No," Legolas' voice was full of conviction; the human had to see, "if you will not hear it from me, listen to Lamaeneth, did she not say 'do not blame yourself' human, it is not your fault."

Aragorn nodded, but Legolas could see no conviction in his eyes.

---&---

Morwen darted up the corridor, her long legs taking large strides s she chased after her prey.

Her prey being the woman in the white tunic and black leggings in front of her, the woman whom she held responsible for the capture of her elven and human friends.

Caireth turned a corner at top speed and was more than a tad surprise to see Morwen standing in front of her.

"Well, well, well," she said icily, "the queen of Rohan has left her throne, tell me, Steelsheen, what is it like to live a life where everything is handed to you? I didn't live that life you know! I had to work for my skills."

"We all have to work for our skills, Caireth of the third house of Gondor," Morwen spoke. She saw the surprise in the eyes of the younger girl. "Yes, I know who you are. How bitter you have become over the years. Yes, you are eighteen, no? And you fled this place with your 'twin'. The servant boy who shared your namesake. The Twin Ships they called you, it paintings they painted your hair black as a dark heart, trying to hide the fact that you were not born to your mother. Yes…you were the twin of the boy you know as Caireth, were you not? The twin…a bastard child. The daughter of a serving woman, of a Lord.

Tell me, Caireth, what did your mother say? How did you feel when she died/ Does your father know that the daughter he lost to 'illness' (I believe that was the story that was told) is right under his nose? Is that why you stay here?"

"N-no! How do you know that?" Caireth's eyes were flashing dangerously. Morwen looked at her with pity, but she continued her story.

"You ran away, with the stable boy. Your twin, he was born the same week as you, to a different woman he claimed you as his own, but abandoned your half brother, both of your mothers. And then you came back, did you not? You came back with an elf. You pretended to be the lady of this house, did you not? You said you wished to find death, and gave him instructions.

You had Baisael murdered, murdered by one of the elves, a race that despises killing. It broke your father, and so you fled again, leaving the elf to face his wrath. You waited four years, and came back, a different girl with a different name. You had always fancied yourself to be named like your near twin."

"How do you know all of this?" Caireth cried angrily, her heart full of anger at this woman.

"That elf you had murder Baisael, he was a visiting Lord to Gondor at the time. His name was Elrond, and when he returned, we decided to learn about the girl who had wanted Baisael dead. And we found your mother's. Lady Firiel of the Third house of Gondor, and Lady Mirwen of the first house of Rohan."

"They live? Our mothers? They live?"

"No. Someone killed them after they told your stories. I has assumed it was you."

"LIAR!" Caireth (or Hannas as was her birth name) raged. She charged at Morwen, swinging her sword in elegant patterns that the Queen was hard put to block.

They struggled and a mightily clang erupted as they hit each other's swords in the wrong spot. Both swords were ripped from their mistresses' hands and went flying. Caireth knocked Morwen to the ground and grabbed the closest sword.

On it was the insignia of the queen.

Caireth's eyes had a feral glint in them and she raised the sword of the queen, "Tell me Morwen, how does it feel to be killed by your own sword?" she asked dangerously.

Morwen's hand grasped the hilt of Caireth's sword and she brought it up, stabbing the other woman in the back.

"I don't know," she said, pushing Caireth's body off of her, you tell me."