Title: But If Not

Author: Aldalas

Rating: T (for mention of severe abusive torture)

Summary: After nearly two decades of being away, Aragorn is finally returning to Mirkwood for the second time. But when one has changed so deeply and the picture of the difference barely sketched, will a king learn to see his worth... and believe? (NO SLASH!)

Disclaimer: Love The Lord of the Rings with a passion that cannot be described, but I own naught a mite of its majesty. But I finish this story with a parakeet nestled in my lap, whose name is also "Estel", and feel as though for a moment, I am a part of it all.

A/N: I was considering one of Aragorn's largest trials in life about his destiny (both bookverse and movieverse) and somehow became particularly interested in how he views his own strength under certain circumstances that does not involve his future. So, this is a story for Aragorn about what he should see when he looks in the mirror.

A/F/N: Here, Thranduil knows of Aragorn's future, though it is a heavily guarded secret spoken of only behind bared doors with select few beings... as is the case here.

---

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You are known to us. What kept you from my halls these past years?"

Aragorn respectfully bowed to king Thranduil, who stood before him in the throne room. Another elf, an advisor to the king, sat beside him. It had indeed been several years since he had last visited Mirkwood, and he had only made the journey once before to meet the royal family with his father and brothers. He had seen only sixteen summers at the time, and many years had passed.

"Unexpected... challenges, Lord Thranduil," the young ranger's voice was soft but strong. "Prevented me from returning, though I much desired it. I had hoped to again meet with you and enjoy the company of Prince Legolas, your son and my friend, whom I have missed."

Thranduil nodded. He still knew little of this human and relied on Lord Elrond's high opinion of the man. Some part of this ranger... put Thranduil on edge and made him wary. The close likeness in appearance to his distant ancestor parhaps. If it were not for Elrond and the king's high respect of the elven lord, as well as Legolas' blossoming friendship with the human, he would not have allowed the ranger to enter his land at all.

"I must excuse my son for the time being, he is not available." Thranduil said. "His return will be soon I am sure, once he knows you have come." Thranduil leaned back slightly in his chair, giving the ranger a critical gaze. "Is your family well?"

"They are well, Lord Thranduil. They send their blessings." Some ghost of a smile flitted lightly across the ranger's lips, a rare sight in the company of ones he knew very little. After almost ten years of wandering the wilds he had returned home for the last two. In truth, this was the first journey he had made since his return to Rivendell. Already he missed his family; memory of them brought him joy.

The Elvenking nodded. "I feel I must inquire as we did receive a missive nearly two years past that none from our land could come for any reason other than great need, with no explanation."

Aragorn hesitated, suddenly feeling a chill that ignored the warmth in the room. "It was due to a family matter. I would prefer not to explain."

"I wish you would," Thranduil studied the man more carefully. "But if you wish not to, I will not force. It will be enough that all is well now."

Aragorn nodded, some tense lines leaving his shoulders. "They are well, I can assure you. Thank you. May I inquire as to how you and Legolas fare? It has been long since my last visit or his and I have heard little of your doings."

"The prince has been overseeing our assistance to the men of Laketown," Thranduil's advisor offered after a nod from his king, watching Aragorn with a strange look in his eyes. "I'm sure you are familiar with the town on our borders."

When Aragorn nodded, the advisor continued. "If none have any argument, I would like to hear your opinion of a question I have concerning this." When none was offered and Aragorn nodded, the Elf began. "Several weeks ago we received word of drastic water shortages around the town; they have been trapped in a drought for some time. Without water and winter in its early stages, the chill set in and many caught ill. It was only after the deaths of nearly twenty people that they sent for our help." The elf shook his head, rolling his eyes at the same time.

"Tell me, young man, as this is the first time you and I have met. Have all men fallen so far that none can remember the strength they once had?"

Aragorn froze in his seat. He had heard this argument before, but this time the question caught his breath.

Though Aragorn did not know it, the king's advisor was another story altogether when compared to Thranduil's temperament. The elf easily rose to the heat of a battle of words and though was not outlandishly rude, spoke his mind bluntly and gave no respect for humans or their ancestry. If anything, it only worsened his opinion of the ranger and made his statements all the more careless.

It was a perfectly reasonable question, but the way it was said angered Aragorn. Already he could see he would not enjoy the company of this Elf at all.

"I – cannot vouch for what the men of Laketown have done or what they were thinking at the time. There are several reasons why they would have delayed calling upon your assistance."

"None of them honorable. This is not what the Elves we sent have said, it comes from the people; what they have said about their leaders. They delayed though they knew we would give of our help, offering false hope that water could be found and illness cured without us. It was not even their leaders who sent for aide; it was a small group of young rebels that began to disbelieve what they were being told. Prince Legolas is due to return soon, even today. Water has been found in places men thought not to look, and illness has lessened, almost disappeared. But there are lives lost that need to be accounted for and I have lost much of my faith in men's strength after this. Once again because of pride, some of their own, innocent beings, were brought to their end."

Aragorn looked right at the Elf, eyes full of confusion and a sense of angry helplessness. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I want to know something." The Elf narrowed his gaze, watching every move, hearing every word, studying the man as if to garner the quality of his character from action alone. "Much of the dealings of men I have watched fall to chaos and grief. Events such as this force me, as well as others, to doubt their worth. So tell me, as a traveler from an elven realm, brought up in the house of an elven lord whose own family blood tainted with some form of mortality-" the Elf's eyes shifted in open dislike. "-do you believe there is strength left to be seen?"

Family blood tainted with some form of mortality... tainted... the words burned, striking the ranger as sharply as a rock to the side of the head. His grip on the armrests of his chair had become knuckle-white. He was amazed at the rashness of the question, surprised at the amount of arrogance he saw in this Elf. Though the question was justified, the way it was given and received was not. His family had been insulted, all that Elrond and his sons were had been degraded by an Elf who never once had stood under their ever-seeing eyes. This description did not match the wisdom and the happiness Aragorn so cherished of his family. It did not match the wonderful goodness of the men he had both watched and worked along-side; giving of their time and their talent without thought to themselves, spending much if not all of their lives fighting to defend their families and friends, working both day and night to keep faith and hope alive through measures of food and shelter. His heart warred within him, and then became fixated in sudden determination. Righteous defense overshadowed his fear.

Thranduil had said nothing, had made no move; parhaps because of astonishment that his advisor would say such things, or parhaps he felt the same way and wanted an answer as well. The men of Laketown had been friends and allies for generations, this was not easily understood. Though when Aragorn began to speak, the king looked as though he wished he had not remained silent.

"I know not the limits of the strength in my blood as you say you do. I do not believe I ever shall," his voice was strong, silver grey eyes boring into the transparent blue of the advisor's. "But if it is marks of strength you need to stop dishonoring my father and my kin in such a disgusting way, than saes... accept mine."

He stood slowly from his chair, as if it pained him physically to do so. Then, with a speed that had not been hinted of in his previous actions, this son of man did something that surprised both Thranduil and his advisor. Shedding his overcoat in one fluid motion and dropping it over the back of his chair, he reached for the tunic tucked into his leggings and pulled it violently free, over his head and baring himself from neck to waist, letting the cloth curl inside out in his hand.

A shocked gasp, lined with sudden understanding and burning guilt, filled the room.

Aragorn's entire torso was covered with crisscrossing scars, each a long stripe, thick and heavily inscribed into the form of his being. The skin was no longer dark and ugly as new wounds would have been, but still it puckered and pulled slightly from past injury, noticeable but easily hidden behind a thick shirt; as always was Aragorn's intent since they had been received and now healed sufficiently enough to hide.

"You wonder why my foster father, Lord Elrond, requested that none from Mirkwood and other friendly realms to come visit unless it concerned strict and dire need." Though poised like a question, it did not sound like one. "He said it was for family reasons, as I did now, and he had requested that none, not even Legolas, a great friend of both the twins and I, should come for any kind of pleasure until he notified you otherwise. But now you know. He was trying to protect me."

The man's voice was so soft, carrying with it so many fearful, bitter emotions. His arms hung at his sides and he stared up at Thranduil and his advisor with eyes of dark storm. Some of the marks passed from shoulder to waist, cursing his skin as though invisible snakes had contorted and twisted and held tight around him, leaving behind their marks of body and scale that would remain in some form for the rest of the ranger's life.

Then Aragorn turned around, exposing his back.

There was no pattern now. All flesh had been destroyed and robbed of its original form. Once smooth skin now rolled and pinched lightly but in an almost grotesque manner; easily hidden but when revealed was easily described as being hideously torn apart by some wild demon and rebuilt with poorer perfection. When the wounds were in their early stages, all flesh touched was a large expanse of obscene crisscrossing scar damage.

"I was caught a year and one half past, not long after my first return home," Aragorn began, not speaking to them but the wall before him, his tone wistful and dark, recalling painful memory. "By a group of men who hated my father. Simply because I would not disown him nor dishonor his name, they gave me the marks that you see now... with a bullwhip braided over stone."

The scars... some deep enough still retained the braided pattern, forever imbedded into the ranger's body and ultimately longer, his mind. So much had to be cared for, so many long months full of pain and recovery, of tears and progress. In the beginning, Elrond had feared his son lost, so much blood and skin tissue gone, but tender care through the first day, into the night, one week, two weeks, one month, two - many nights of the twins sleeping at his sides so they would be there should he awake from the great pain, many days of his father soothing him with gentle caresses as he watered his pillow with so many tears, so much time full of waiting for the bloody lashes to heal and the memory of them to fade. Due to his fragile state, Elrond had sent messages that none should come to his realm, to protect both his son's heart and body from shame and outside disease. Even in Rivendell few were allowed to visit the man in the beginning of his slow recovery. Gradually, Aragorn regained his strength and his body did repair the wounds it had taken under the attention of Middle Earth's greatest healer. He was strong, both in body and mind; he did survive. Now the man was alive again, walking the paths he once enjoyed, relearning what he once knew but had lost through the time he had been confined to bed, at times burning too fiercely from pain to move.

"I may be of the Secondborn, doomed to taken from this world through the bonds of mortality, but even with that knowledge I hope that you will recall this and keep it in your heart, so that one day I may earn the respect equal to what I so freely gave you. But if not, be it known that I was faithful to my family and I did not fall... even when it was so difficult that some would have preferred death to the slow crawl of recovery. Believe what I say," Aragorn's eyes bore straight into Thranduil and his advisor, each in his own time. There he stood, tall and proud, full of grace and wisdom, defiant as a king of old. "For I have known such beings. I nearly became one of them."

Again taking up his tunic and overcoat, the ranger quickly but silently donned his clothing and turned away from his mute audience. As he walked away, he called back to them, "Please tell Legolas I am sorry to have missed him. He is again welcome to travel to Rivendell if he wishes it, as are any others who are driven by the need. You have my thanks."

And he was gone.

King Thranduil and his advisor were both stunned silent, and neither could speak, even after Aragorn was away from their sight.

0o0o0o0o0

As he walked down the hallway, the ranger was overcome with the seriousness of what he had done. An unanticipated rift was now in formation and a darkness followed him as he made his way through the palace and back outside. Only one thought occupied his mind. He had just admitted to a weakness that should never have been tested against him. He desired no one's pity nor sympathy in this regard. 'For shame,' some voice in his mind growled at him angrily. 'For shame!'

'Why? Why did I have to show him those? What need drove me to make such a choice?' one hand unconsciously pressed against his side, a bullwhip scar protruding sharply into his palm through the thick fabric of his tunic. Recalling what little he had said, Aragorn could remember a powerful feeling of being driven to say it all, and with force! But now, looking back, he could almost cower at the rashness of the words, words he felt sounded weak, as some plea for attention. Meaning to them something far less than what he had felt.

Humiliated and dejected, Aragorn escaped the trail leading to the stables and let himself into the stalls. He was eager to retrieve his stallion and make the journey home... slowly.

"Estel!"

The human stopped dead in his tracks, swinging around and was taken aback at the being that greeted him now. By the Valar, he had completely forgotten...

"Legolas?"

The elven prince rushed forward, still wearing both traveling clothes and weapons, barely returned from his journey from Laketown. His eyes were slightly weary from the work that was now complete, but alight at seeing his old friend; he did not immediately recognize the self-directed shame written in Aragorn's eyes.

Aragorn turned away, pulling the stall door open and darted inside.

The human heard the footsteps cease for a moment. A confused voice called after him. "Estel?"

Aragorn reached out, touching his stallion's nose and speaking gently. The horse knew him and stood quiet, allowing the ranger to come closer and bury his face into the stallion's neck. The horse nickered, hearing another being outside the stall door, seeing the Elf prince and urging him in. What is wrong? The stallion asked of the Elf in his own way. He fears. Why does he fear?

Legolas entered the stall slowly, patting the stallion's nose as he passed and stopped right by Aragorn's shoulder. Raising his hand, but fearing to touch him as of yet, the archer questioned again, "Estel?"

Raising his head from the horse's neck just long enough to glance at his friend, Aragorn sighed and settled back into the mane. "Mae govannen, mellon nin."

"Mae govannen, Estel." Feeling safe now that Aragorn had spoken, Legolas let his hand rest on the man's shoulder.

At the touch of his friend, Aragorn lifted his head away from the stallion's broad neck, straightening his posture and settled for stroking the horse's wide forehead fondly, before he answered the unspoken question Legolas had poised.

"I journeyed here to visit you again my friend, but while in the audience of your father I was told you were away."

"Is that why you are distressed?"

"Yes... no. Not entirely."

"Has my father upset you?"

"Nay, he did not."

"Has someone else earned your disfavor?"

"... Yes."

"Ahh, now we are making progress." Legolas reached forward and grasped the hand the roamed aimlessly over the stallion's head, taking the man's full attention for himself. When Aragorn finally looked his friend in the face, the two read the emotions so easily captured by their closeness. One of dark shame, the other of deep concern.

"What happened Estel?"

Aragorn shook his head.

"Please," slim fingers tightened around his calloused hand. "Please tell me."

Again the ranger shook his head, sighing with such pain and even anger in the deep breath. "I could not tell you..." he whispered, his fingers quickly working their way lithely out of Legolas' as he quickly began to once more shed his coat. "Without showing you something first."

He hated this. He had full intentions of telling his friend everything that had happened, but not under such circumstances. A great swell of regret flowed through him as he again held his tunic in his hand, the rough fabric coiled between his fingers. He would have given anything not to tell his friend this way.

"Ai, Estel..." Legolas' voice was like a faint moan of sudden fear, one hand both consciously and unconsciously reaching out and touching the scars, tracing them with fingers no heavier than the caress of the wind, the other rising to take its place against the man's cheek. After a few moments the elf prince tore his eyes away from the horror of the marks and what they undoubtedly meant, again meeting his resisting human friend's gaze, repeating a question he had already asked with more worry driven ferocity in his tone.

"What happened?"

"Just shy of two years past, I was taken and beaten by men because I would not disown my father. With your father was an advisor, one who told me where you were and asked me if there-" the man's voice caught. "If there was any strength of men left to be seen. He insulted my family, disrespected my kin. I did not know what I was doing until I heard myself speak the words that would silence him... as I offered the scars of strength he wished to see."

Aragorn ceased to resist the elf's searching gaze and let Legolas see the tear-brightness of his eyes. "I acted with as much rashness as he. I should not have shown him these scars. I should not have told him why they were given. But the need was there... and I could not condone allowing him to say such things."

"Estel, he had no right to say any unworthy word against your family." Legolas ached that his friend would feel so poorly of his own actions. Actions of loyalty, not shame as he believed them to be. "What did he say? Will you tell me?"

Slowly, Aragorn slipped back into his tunic, considering the story and the words he wished to forget. "He said..."

"Much of the dealings of men I have watched fall to chaos and grief. Events such as this force me, as well as others, to doubt their worth. So tell me, as a traveler from an elven realm, brought up in the house of an elven lord whose own family blood tainted with some form of mortality, do you believe there is still strength to be seen?"

"Have all men fallen so far that none can remember the strength they once had?"

Family blood tainted...

Men fallen so far...

"How dare he," Legolas was seething silently after hearing such angry, condescending words, listening to Aragorn recount the entire conversation. "I can hardly believe my father would allow such a question to be asked."

"I believe, mellon nin," Aragorn responded, keeping his gaze trained to the ground. "That he wanted to know the answer as well."

"It was not right of him to do so," Legolas redirected the man's eyes, locking them into his own. "It was wrong of them both."

Disbelieving silver eyes stared back at him. "Are you so sure? Was this an unworthy question?"

"Yes!" the Elf did not back down. "Every being to have ever walked this earth has and will make mistakes Estel, my father and his advisor are not exempt from this. And though you have ancestors who have made their share of them-" Legolas caught the ranger before he could look away again. "They are not you. Their choices are not yours. And what their future was, it does not reflect what you will become. You should be given the chance to prove that worth. You have more potential than to be ruled by a past that was not of your own making. You are Estel, you are Aragorn. You are the son of Lord Elrond, brother to Elladan and Elrohir, and my gwador. You are hope. And once again, you did as you said you would."

Aragorn cocked one eyebrow, confused. "What have I done?"

"You remained loyal to your father. Had you stayed your voice and not defended him, later you would have viewed it as not only disrespect but faithless to what you proved with the marks you now bear. You have every reason to stand up for them. And that was what both my father and his advisor needed to see in you."

"How can you be so sure he will see it that way?" Aragorn let his hand again be locked into his friend's. "How can he see something in me that I hardly see in myself?"

"He will remember this." Legolas pressed away tears with his thumb before they could fall. "He will remember the strength and he cannot deny its reality. He will come to understand the mantle you wear, one of loyalty. He will see that character in you. One does not need to be that person to know a measure of who they are inside."

"But if-"

"No 'but's'! No 'if's'. I speak only truth. Hear me, trust what I say."

Aragorn sighed heavily, but Legolas could sense it was of relief. "Thank you Legolas. I did need someone to tell me all this. It is good that you know."

Legolas smiled at the ranger. "Ai, Estel, there is such strength buried in your heart that I love to see come forth. I wish you could see in yourself. Parhaps then you would not doubt your worth that I have come to know, and now others will as well. All will be as it needs to be, mellon nin. You will see it before long."

"Parhaps you are right." It was not really an answer, but the Elf could tell there was a chance.

Legolas poked the ranger in the direction of his saddle and equipment. "Now get ready to leave. I want to be out of this courtyard in five minutes' time."

"Five minutes?... Legolas, are you-?" Rolling back on his heels to catch his balance, Aragorn looked both surprised and delighted.

"-Coming with you?" Legolas laughed lightly as he finished Aragorn's sentence for him. "Of course I am! You came all this way to see me; you think I will let you leave after only a half hour? You wound me, Estel."

"But you only just returned home! Don't you have something else you need to do? You have been away from your family, and I know you will need to report on what has been done-"

"Is there anything more important to me than this?" Legolas gave the man a quick wink. "None but you know that I returned yet. If we leave quickly-" he prodded the man in both voice and elbow. "It will stay that way until we are far away."

For the first time, Aragorn smiled back at his friend. "Sneaking away? Will it be worth the trouble later?"

Legolas stepped forward, and after a moment's consideration, wrapped his arms around the ranger in a quick embrace. "You will always be worth any trouble, gwador nin," he whispered into the man's ear. "So long as you will remember this feeling of meaning something to yourself."

Aragorn tensed, then relaxed, accepting the Elf's embrace and then offering one of his own. "Thank you my gwador. Thank you for being there for me."

I Meth (The End)

Any thoughts, as always, are most appreciated!