A Beautiful Friendship

Aragorn had been traveling the southern borders of Mirkwood for a fair few weeks now and he was beginning to feel the burden of loneliness one felt when traveling alone. Try as he might, he could not shake the desire of companionship and he wished he had agreed to his brothers' offers to accompany him on this wandering.

"But no…I have to be manly and strike out on my own…" the man murmured to himself. Frankly, he could barely be considered a man. In his mid-twenties, Aragorn was young. He had never traveled this far from Imladris, nor had he ever traveled in such a dangerous land alone or with company.

Lord Elrond has warned him of the dangers of Mirkwood forest, but ever since the blonde-haired messenger from Mirkwood Palace had delivered a message to Rivendell, Aragorn had felt an itching desire to meet the elusive Wood-Elves that inhabited these fair woods.

The young man knew there were spiders, orcs and the likes traveling the far south regions of Mirkwood, where he was now, but he also knew that as he drew nearer to the area the Wood-Elves called home would be safer.

Unfortunately, he was not the best with directions yet, though he was an excellent tracker. Aragorn had somehow erred in his travels and ended up in the southern regions of Mirkwood, where Elrond had told him not to go.

He sighed.

Darkness was approaching and Aragorn had not yet found a suitable place to rest. He was weary from his travels, but would not settle for any old place. He dared not sleep on the ground, but he feared the spiders of the trees and was uncertain if he should sleep in the branches or take his chances on the ground.

His hand rested lightly on his sword and he glanced around. Something wasn't quite right here. Something was odd about the forest floor.

Then it hit him. Literally. A black, hairy being launched itself from the nearest tree, knocking Aragorn to the ground. He knew what it was, there was little doubt there. But he wasn't sure how to get it off himself.

He didn't have to think long. The spider shrieked in pain, shuddered and slumped bodily on him, crushing him beneath it's now-dead weight. Aragorn realized he had not had time to draw a weapon, so he had not slain the spider. His heart quickened in his chest and he wondered if the being that had killed the spider would now end his own life.

The weight of the spider was soon gone. Someone had dragged it off the man and now Aragorn saw himself staring at the gleaming tip of a barbed arrow. His eyes cast upward toward the being holding the arrow notched to the bowstring.

Blonde hair cascaded over the shoulders of a green tunic. The sides were swept back in delicate braids and the pointed tips of the beings ears were completely visible.

His savior was an Elf.

"Thank you!" He breathed in relief. The Elf did not reply, nor did he lower the arrow. Aragorn frowned at that. Elrond had also warned him many Wood-Elves harbored ill will toward Men.

He tried a different tactic. "Hannon le, mellon." This time, the Elf's eyes widened and his arrow wavered. "Man pennich?" he continued rapidly. "Pedich i lam edhellen?" (What did you say? Do you speak Elvish?)

Aragorn nodded. "Yes, do you speak Common?"

The Elf frowned. "Yes, but not often."

The Man nodded, eying the arrow. "Will you lower that? I mean you no harm."

Slowly, the Elf lowered the weapon. "Why are you here? From whence did you come?"

Aragorn sat up, wincing. The spider had hit him hard in the chest and the man knew he would have an almighty bruise in the morning.

"Perhaps introductions are in order?" Standing slowly, he bowed lightly to the Elf and said, "Estel i eneth nin." (My name is Estel.)

The blonde archer nodded and returned the bow. "Legolas, Thranduilion. Hope is your name?"

Aragorn faltered upon hearing his savior's name. He was speaking to the Prince of Mirkwood! "Uhm. Yes, one of my names, I go by many, depending on the day. Estel is the name I was given by my foster father."

Legolas shrugged. "If it is one of many, do you only choose to divulge it to me to gain my trust for it is an Elvish name and I am an Elf."

Aragorn frowned again. He hadn't meant it that way, he figured given Legolas his Elvish name would be proper. "I meant it in no such way. It is the name I go by more oft than not. I simply refrain from it in the company of uncouth men."

"So you keep the company of uncouth men?" The Elf countered, backing away from Aragorn, his arrow slowly returning to his bowstring.

The man shook his head. "You misconstrue my words, Legolas, Thranduilion. Often times I have not the pleasure of choosing my companions and it is those times I go by other names."

Still, his words did not appease the Elf. "These are the lands of the Wood-Elves. Leave them if you do not wish to die a most painful death. You are ill-equipped to fight spiders and I shall not be around to protect you the next time you fall prey to them."

He turned and in an instant, took to the trees and was gone from sight. Aragorn stamped his foot. "I finally meet a Wood-Elf and look what I do! Drive him off by telling him my name. I sure wish El and El had warned me just how touchy they were!"

Aragorn turned to survey his surroundings when he heard a loud zing and a pained cry; from the direction the Elf had taken!

Without hesitation, he plunged toward the sound, pushing his way through the bushes and brambles. The zing had sounded like an arrow and since the cry he had heard no other sound. It was odd to say the least.

He emerged through a particularly stubborn bush and the sight that met his eyes was something he never thought he would see. Five men were gathered around something lying on the ground.

A thick chain, attached to an odd-looking device that vaguely resembled a crossbow, was snaking across the ground into the midst of the men.

One took notice of Aragorn and turned to him. "Hey, you, get away from here. This is our catch, you've no claim to it."

"What does one hunt with such means?" Aragorn asked before he realized what he was doing.

The men, all now aware of the newcomer, turned away from their prize and in doing so revealed their prey.

Aragorn's heart leapt into his throught.

Legolas. It looked like he had been dragged from the tree by the chained device, which must have fired an arrow because there was an arrow, attached to the chain, protruding from the Elf's bloody midsection. The blonde's eyes were tightly clamped shut in pain, one man's hands were on the arrow, prepared to pull it out.

"Nice prize, huh?" The man with his hand on the Elf's wound said with a laugh. "We don't usually catch blonde ones. This one should fetch a high price."

Aragorn's blood boiled, but he had to handle this situation carefully. "How does this contraption work?" He asked, gesturing to the machine that had felled the Elf Prince.

The man stood up now and the five approached, happy to brag of their invention. "Well, we designed it especially for Elves, the blighters like to take to the trees and even if you shoot them, it's hard to get them down," the man said.

Another piped up. "So we decided to attach this chain to an arrow and use it to pull them down once they're hit."

The first smacked him. "I'm telling a story!" Turning to Aragorn the man continued. "A normal bow couldn't shoot the arrow, it was weighted down by the chain. So we put a metal wire in here, coiled real tight together, that if we compress it like this…" he demonstrated… "you get it to shoot real fast. Fast than an Elf can elude. It's worked like a charm really."

Aragorn's voice was low. "And what do you do with the Elves you catch?"

"Well," the man answered, shrugging. "Providing they live after the arrow is removed, we sell them to the highest bidder. Don't really care who, so long as we get paid."

Aragorn heard Legolas whimper in pain and shift on the ground. The movement drew the attention of the men and Aragorn took this opportunity to meter out his punishment.

Dragging his sword upward, he sliced into the spokesman first, killing him in one quick blow. Then, with lightning fast moves born of anger he mowed down the remaining four before they really knew what hit them.

Hurrying forward, he dropped to the ground beside the Elf, who had dragged himself backwards to lean against a tree, clutching his bloody abdomen and eying Aragorn with trepidation.

"Easy now," the man said, reaching forward. He stopped when the Elf shied away. "What…"

"You…I…don't like edans…" the Elf choked, a small trickle of blood escaping his lips as he spoke. His eyes betrayed the fear he was trying to hide.

"I know you must not be comfortable with humans right now, Legolas, but I am a healer, trained by my foster father and you need help," Aragorn said, reaching forward again.

Legolas, to his surprise, released his grip on the arrow and snatched hold of Aragorn's hand, holding it in a surprisingly strong grip. "How…can…trust you?"

The man smiled lightly. "You never asked who my foster father was." Legolas didn't answer, simply stared at Aragorn in confusion. "I am Estel, as I said. Estel of Imladris, foster son of Lord Elrond."

For a moment, he thought the Elf had stopped breathing. "Elrond?" he whispered, and his body immediately began to relax. He released hold of Aragorn's hand and swallowed. "Promise?"

Nodding, Estel placed his hands on the Elf's leg and answered, "I promise, I am not lying. Let me help you."

Legolas nodded finally, shifting in pain against the tree. He glanced down at the arrow in his stomach and pressed his eyes shut.

Then, he looked up at Aragorn.

But the man was not looking at him, he was focused solely on the wound in the Elf's midsection, berating himself for not having anything to knock the Elf out with before removing the weapon.

"Legolas?" he waited for the Elf to look up. "This is going to hurt, but I have to get this out of you to treat the wound."

The Elf didn't object, merely watched the man wearily. So, with a deep breath, Aragorn took hold of the arrow while kneeling on the Elf's legs to hold them down, and pulled.

The sharp cry and jerk were all that escaped the Elf as the arrow was wrested from his body. He slumped backward and tried to calm his shaky breathing.

Estel watched him closely as he pressed a folded edge of his cloak against the wound, applying a good amount of pressure despite the moan of pain it caused.

Legolas looked upward, peering into Estel's face. "Hannon le, Estel."

"Consider us even, Prince Legolas. You save my life, I save yours."

The Elf nodded wearily. Then, his head lolled to the side and he passed out. Estel cursed, most of his words coming out in dwarvish, and he glanced around.

He had no idea where he was, or even how close he was to the Wood- Elves. He had thought he was on the southern borders of Mirkwood and really hadn't expected to see any Elves out here. That was partly why meeting Legolas had been such a surprise. If he was on the outskirts, he wondered one, why Legolas was there, and two, how long it would take to get to the Mirkwood Palace to get Legolas proper treatment. Estel was a healer, but by no means was he accomplished enough to take care of this with no supplies, out in the wilderness. He shook the Elf, hoping to rouse him, but to no avail. Sighing, he looked around him again, hoping for something, anything that would help them.

His eyes fell on a large sack that the hunters had been carrying with them. Leaving the Elf's side for a moment, he dragged the bag over. Placing his left hand on the wound and keeping pressure on it, he used his freed right hand to dig through the bag.

Food, water, blankets…the usual camping provisions. This was a goldmine for their current situation. He didn't see anything that the Elf was carrying, and he didn't have many supplies left himself. He had thought to have been in the Wood-Elves territory by now, not still out in the wilds.

Gently, Estel moved the cloak from the Elf's wound, frowning at the saturated liquid. A quick examination of the arrow found it to be barbed. "Damn!" Estel cursed. "And I caused more damage by pulling it out, I'll bet."

"You had to."

Estel jumped nearly a foot at that, bringing a wry grin from Legolas, who had regained consciousness just in time to hear Estel berate himself for the barbed arrow.

"Don't scare me like that!" Estel laughed. He gently extricated the surrounding Elvish tunic from the wound, fully revealing it to his healer's eye. "It could be worse." He muttered.

Legolas sucked in a breath when Estel prodded the wound. "Saes, avo!" (Please don't)

Estel frowned. "Sorry."

He carefully pulled Legolas away from the tree and went about removing the Elf's tunic. He could feel Legolas tensing up as he touched him and made a mental note to ask him just why he didn't like men. But right now, he had to bandage this wound or the Elf could bleed to death.

"I know you are not comfortable with me, Legolas. But if there was any other way I would gladly not do this to you."

Legolas nodded. "Iston." (I know.)

Estel quickly bandaged the wound and replaced Legolas' tunic, tearing away the bloody portion. He handed the Elf a blanket and smiled at the questioning look.

"I know you don't feel cold, but it is for your body's sake. It needs the warmth."

Legolas nodded and settled the blanket over himself, nestling into the comforting embrace of the warm fabric. It did feel rather good. "You need not remain. I shall be fine to travel tomorrow, you may go if you must," the Elf finally said.

Estel quirked his head. The Prince had said go if you must. But he had not ordered him, nor asked him to leave. Perhaps he didn't hate men as much as Estel thought at first.

"Actually," he began, settling beside the small fire he had built, across from the wrapped up Elf. "I had come to Mirkwood to meet the Wood-Elves."

Legolas' head went up at that. "Why?"

"Well," Estel explained. "Even since I saw a messenger in Imladris, I had wanted to meet your people. The Noldor are noble, scholars…the wood-elves are an enigma. I've always held interest in them."

The Prince frowned. "I do not know that you would find welcome in my home, Estel. Even though you saved my life."

Estel nodded. "My father had told me as much, but I'm stubborn. I didn't listen. I told him I would wend my way into your hearts as I did his and the twins'."

Legolas' eyes clouded. "That will be harder than you fathom, Estel of Imladris." He would venture no more, not even an explanation as to why he was so suddenly cold to his savior.

"What did men do to your people that causes you to hate us so?" Estel whispered to the wind, not expecting an answer from the Elf.

"They killed my mother."

Estel looked up and saw the raw hatred in the Elf's eyes. Legolas looked at Estel. His eyes softened slightly. "It was long ago, but Elves have long memories. I do not forgive men lightly, nor do my people. They took her and they killed her and they had no reason. Do not think you have wended your way into my heart yet, Estel." The man was still taken aback. He had not expected this. Why hadn't his father and brothers told him. "I did not know. I am sorry for your loss, Legolas. I shall leave at first light."

The Elf nodded, then looked away. But he didn't look finished. Something was bothering him. Something had been bothering him for many long years. He had hated men. He still hated men. Didn't he? So why did he feel drawn to Estel? Whom he had only known a few short hours?

Something was telling him to give this man a chance. To give the race of men a chance to redeem itself. But even though he might be feeling this, something warned him his father and many of the others were not.

"No. You needn't leave at first light. But I do not think you wish to travel all the way to my home."

Estel was silent. Legolas had just told him he hated men, maybe not in so many words, but it was obvious. So, why was he not trying to rid himself of Estel's presence immediately.

A small voice in his head chimed in. He does not wish to hate men forever. He wishes to put this behind him and learn to forgive. Never to forget, but at least to forgive.

"Then I shall stay with you as far as I am able, Legolas of Mirkwood. I harbor no ill will to the Elves of Mirkwood and hope that they will not harm me for bringing you home."

Legolas nodded, his mind worried at the thought of explaining to his father why he had allowed an edan within the borders of the palace.

Sighing, he tried to sleep. He was weary and in pain and it took surprisingly less time and effort than he thought to fall into the world of Elvish dreams.

Chapter Two: Unglisen's Lair

The Elf had not woken in many hours and as the day turned into afternoon, Estel began to worry. So he decided to rouse him.

"Legolas? Come on, wake. You are worrying me!" A particularly rough shake woke the Elf, who let out a sharp cry of pain and jerked backward.

Estel immediately withdrew, raising his hands. "Easy! It's me! Estel!"

After a moment, when the Elf was fully awake, he nodded. "Pardon my reactions, they are not personal."

Nodding, Estel moved forward again. "I need to see to your wound." Legolas frowned. "All right, but then we should move on." Estel engaged in idle chatter as he looked over the Prince's wound. He tried to elicit as little pain as he could, but the wound was still fresh and tender.

"How far from the palace are we?" he finally asked.

"Two days journey."

"Two good days or two days with you injured?"

Legolas looked up at the man with a glare. "Funny. Two days is two days, regardless of my condition."

"You're just as stubborn as Elrohir and Elladan. I swear it must be an Elf trait…"

The Elf studied his human companion a little closer. He spoke of the twin sons of Elrond as if he knew them well. "Do you oft times associate with the twins?"

Estel laughed. "Oie! Far too many for my own health. We are brothers, if not in blood. I was raised in their home and they treat me as one of their own."

Legolas found himself liking this man more and more as they spoke. He was a talented healer, mindful of Legolas' dislike of his kind, yet still cordial and kind.

I wonder if men are more like Estel than they are those who killed Naneth? Have we shunned the world of men for so long and missed out on good friendships?

He wasn't sure he could call Estel a friend just yet, but he didn't think of him as an enemy, nor did he find himself hating the man. It would be hard to dispel hundreds of years of anger and dislike, but he found himself looking forward to trying.

Unfortunately, his wound decided to use that moment to remind him of its presence and he winced hard. The sound, which bordered on a cry, drew Estel's attention back to him.

Kneeling on the ground, he felt Legolas' forehead. "You are hot. A fever is setting in. I really don't want to move you."

But Legolas shook his head. "You must. The trees warn of unwanted company in these woods, we should go."

Estel looked up at the swaying bows of the trees and nodded. "If you say so, Legolas. I can not hear the trees, but the tales of old say that Wood-Elves can and I shan't make the mistake of not listening to you in this matter."

The Elf nodded and reached out a still-bloody hand toward Estel. The man grimaced at the look on Legolas' face as he helped him up. It had hurt. A lot from the looks of it.

Once the Prince had managed to stand relatively steady, Estel left him for a moment to gather the pack and provisions. Legolas watched the man move about the camp, studying the Elvish traits in his actions.

Estel was no ordinary human. Maybe that is why I am comfortable around him so soon after meeting. He is move Elvish than man.

Estel stopped, noticing the Prince's gaze on him. "Is something the matter, Legolas?" He asked, slinging the pack over his shoulder and grunting under its weight.

"No," Legolas said quickly. "I just noticed how you move more akin to an Elf than a Man."

The man nodded. "Yes, so I guess my brothers really have worn off on me then, if you notice it as well."

Reaching out, he took hold of the Elf's arm and began to move him toward what he thought was Mirkwood's center.

Legolas chuckled.

He tugged lightly on the man's sleeve, spun him completely around, and prodded him forward. "My home is that way, Estel."

The man blushed. "Yeah, I knew that. I was testing your mental capacity. Seeing if the blood loss affected your memory."

"I'll bet…" Legolas murmured.

Estel laughed. For a time, they continued onward, moving slowly to accommodate Legolas' wound, but not so slowly as to make little progress.

Estel was surprised that the wood-Elf could move so quickly so soon after being wounded. But he supposed that there was more to this Elf than met the eye. And the challenge of drawing the Elf into the open excited him. He could only hope that the King would not throw him out as soon as they arrived at the palace.

Legolas, meanwhile, was not able to lose himself in revelries. He was too busy trying to move with as little pain as possible, which was proving very difficult to do. Every step he took seemed to jar the wound more and more until it was fairly burning with pain.

Finally, he couldn't hold it in anymore and his next step elicited an audible wince. Estel immediately stopped moving. "Legolas? Do you need to rest? Don't push yourself too hard, you are not even remotely healed."

The Elf frowned. "I do require a rest, Estel, but we cannot stop here. This is the dwelling of Unglisen, a rather territorial she- spider that does not take lightly to trespassers."

"Unglisen?" Estel rolled the name over in his head. "Sounds a lot like the Ungoliant of old, that name…"

Legolas laughed. "You have hit on the origin of the spider's name quickly, Estel. Many Elves do not even manage to do this."

The man smiled. "Well, living in the house of Elrond, surrounded by his books and the veritable wealth of history that is Erestor, don't be too surprised."

The Prince nodded, but hesitated, laying a restraining hand on Estel's shoulder all of a sudden. The man didn't miss the sudden tensing of the Elf's features, and seeing as the Prince knew the area and its inhabitants well, he decided to wait and see what Legolas would do.

Looking around them, Legolas could feel a stirring in the trees. A warning, the wind picked up and the humming grew until it was assailing him like a tidal wave. Danger!

"Estel, we must leave! She is here!" He took a step forward, as he moved pulling the bow and quiver that Estel was carrying from the man. They were Legolas' weapons, which the man had been carrying to avoid their hindering the Elf's progress.

Seeing the look on his new-found companion's face, Estel did not argue. This was serious if the Elf was this worried.

Legolas notched an arrow and held back his pain as best he could. He knew drawing the bow would be difficult, and to this day no one had killed Unglisen, but he had to be ready anyway.

Estel's hand was on his sword, and the other was hovering protectively behind Legolas should the Elf stumble or sway. He hid the latter from the Elf, however.

"Is she approaching?" He asked, whispering, though he knew it was not necessary, the spider likely knew they were here already.

"No…" Legolas answered slowly. "But her minions are. Unglisen commands a few of her own children who did not leave her nest. They attack and capture her prey and she allows them to finish the food off. It is an odd relationship among spiders. Most would simply destroy the one that tried to hold their allegiance, but Unglisen is different. Cunning and strong, no Elf has been able to kill her."

Estel swallowed. "That's saying something! The Elves of Mirkwood are reputed to be the best archers in Middle-Earth. If they cannot defeat this evil, not many could."

Legolas couldn't help but notice the slight tone of almost idolizing that he heard in Estel's voice when he spoke of the archery skills of the Mirkwood Elves. "You do not think the Noldor to be good archers?" he asked quietly, diverting Estel's attention in hopes of preventing the man from panicking. He had no way of knowing how Estel would react to being set upon by spiders.

"Well," Estel said, not really wanting to degrade his brothers. "Let's just say that they aren't as good as I hear your people are. I…I can't hit the broadside of a barn with an arrow, I'm afraid."

"Ah," Legolas said, fingering his bowstring. "Perhaps if my father does not throw you out of the palace when we arrive, I might teach you a spot of archery."

Estel was surprised. "That would be a great honor, my Prince. For a member of the royal house to teach me archery…I could think of no higher honor!"

Legolas frowned. "Well, I'm glad you feel so honored. But we will quickly become spider food if we do not hasten our step."

Nodding, Estel stepped up the pace and Legolas labored to keep up. They could see the sticky web strings in the trees and Legolas' worry grew a notch. The webbing was becoming more dense as they continued. Had Unglisen moved her nest closer to the palace? Were they only now entering it, and doing so rapidly?

"Legolas? It's getting worse…" Estel muttered, his grip tightening on his sword. He knew arrows were better suited to killing spiders, the nearer they got to someone, the more deadly they became. For a moment, the Elf did not answer and Estel was forced to look at him. As he did so, Legolas froze and the man bumped into his companion, drawing a sharp intake of breath from the wounded Elf.

"Sorry…" Estel began. "I didn…"

He stopped short. Legolas was gazing upward at a web stretched across the path. Perched in the web was a massive spider, its body fat and bloated. It looked…pregnant.

"Very slowly, back up," Legolas whispered, inching his own foot backward, nudging Estel's leg.

The man obeyed, his face was beginning to show signs of fear and perspiration began to bead on his forehead. For a twenty-something year old out on his first trip alone, this was not shaping up to be a good time.

Legolas held the bow notched and ready, but did not fire. He knew that if he fired at Unglisen, which the large spider undoubtedly was, he would be set upon by countless others in a heartbeat. The movement of her web would alert the others. Thus far, she hadn't moved.

The Elf watched as Unglisen's eyes flickered. Then, ever so slightly, she jiggled the web in a barely perceptible movement. Legolas groaned. "Here they come…" he muttered.

Chapter Three: Nearly There

Estel was about to ask how the Elf knew "they were coming", but there was no time. Besides, he know knew too. Spiders began to scurry across the tree tops, webbing was quickly dispersed and the two were in essence locked into a circle of trees.

The man, nearly panicking now, held his sword at the ready. Legolas suddenly fired his arrow and had another strung and leaving the bow before Estel fully registered that a shot had been fired.

They weren't kidding about the archery…Estel thought to himself as he watched the Elf fire arrow after arrow until there were none left in his quiver. Then he pulled free two Elven knives and crossed them in front of him. Despite the injury, the Elf was more than formidable.

"Make for the less dense portion of the webbing," he whispered, gesturing toward their left. A portion of their web prison was not as thick as the rest. Some spider had not done its job well. Estel nodded and began hacking away at the spiders as he made his way toward the edge of the web circle.

Legolas covered their retreat, weaving a deadly pattern of death with his knives, but quickly tiring. He had not healed enough for this. The sickly sweet aroma of the Elf's blood drove the spiders into a feeding frenzy and they swarmed the two intruders.

The Elf heard a short cry and turned just in time to see a spider's sharp front talon, one of the ones it used to create webs, slice across his new-found companion's back.

Estel angrily spun and lobbed the creature's head from its body. He met the Elf's eyes and Legolas nodded, impressed.

The man smiled and then turned and sliced through the webbing, making a large hole in the pearly white material.

He and Legolas were through in an instant and the spiders suddenly found their web a hindrance. They had to tear a larger hole through before they could follow their quarry and it wasted precious time.

Estel and Legolas fairly flew across the forest floor, the Elf in the lead. He seemed to move with such ease through the bramble while Estel struggled and cursed at the burrs that clung to his clothing.

But, they didn't slow, and soon they were no longer within hearing of the spiders, who had decided not to leave the safety of their nest and to instead await the arrival of the next blundering travelers.

Legolas immediately sank to the ground and clutched his wound and Estel, catching his breath, didn't see at first the pained expression on the Elf's countenance.

Then, he did, and he hurried over and flung himself down beside Legolas. "Mellon nin!" he cried without thinking. "Are you all right? Let me see!"

The Elf looked up, his eyes as big as saucers. "You called me your friend," he said. "So soon…you already trust me with your life." He was struggling to keep his voice from breaking.

Estel sighed. "You are worthy of my trust. Am I not worthy of yours?"

Legolas didn't answer. He couldn't. It was too soon. "I don't know. It is so hard to trust after so many years of hate, Estel. I…I can't think now…"

He bent over, almost double, and it took a bit of prying on Estel's part to get him to uncurl. The bandages applied earlier were filled with blood and Legolas' eyes were glazing in shock.

"You'll be all right, let me get the bleeding under control…" Estel murmured. He whipped his own pack out and fished around until he found what he was looking for. Athelas.

Legolas, seeing the plant, glanced at Estel. "You carry those?"

The man nodded. "If you know my brothers, you know why."

The Elf nodded. He knew the twins, though he had not seen them since his mother's murder. He had traveled no further than the borders of Mirkwood since then. Few left the forest since the death of the Queen.

He managed to stay relatively quiet until the athelas were actually applied. Touching the wound was immensely painful and he cried out and balled his hands into fists, clenching his leggings at his thighs.

Estel worked quickly, ignoring the cries and trying to ignore the labored breathing. It was more the breathing that bothered him than it was the cries, because it meant that Legolas was not doing well.

The spider battle had not done him good and Estel feared that unless they reached the palace soon he would not be able to keep Legolas conscious and moving.

I'll carry him if I must, though I do not know the way,the man thought to himself. He has saved my life twice now…I owe him at least this.

Legolas, however, did not pass out, nor did he lose consciousness at any point during Estel's administrations. He gritted his teeth when the pain hit, but wrapping the bandage was far less painful than applying the athelas had been.

"Hannon le, mellon," the Elf muttered. He hadn't said "my" friend, but friend was a start, Estel noticed. Perhaps this friendship would not be doomed after all.

"You're welcome, Legolas."

He eased the Prince to his feet and looked at him with concern.

Seeing the expression in the man's eyes, the Elf sighed. "I must go on. I will be all right. I am weary for my home, Estel. It will help me heal."

The man acquiesced without complaint, but he was a bit leery about the welcome he would receive in Mirkwood. He knew that he had at least partially gained the Prince's trust, but he worried that if he was separated from the Elf in the palace, he would not be safe from harm.

Legolas suddenly stopped. "Estel!" He cried out in alarm. "You were cut by one of the spiders!"

The man nodded. "It is all right, merely sore and crusted. We have to get you to the healers."

But the Elf rapidly shook his head, his eyes wide with some unreadable emotion. "The spiders in Mirkwood are highly toxic! Your wounds should have been cleansed immediately! I am sorry, I did not think!"

He pulled the man to a halt and moved to expose the cut across Estel's back. The man stopped him. "Wait, I can do this. You just wait until I get the shirt off."

He didn't want the Elf to pull that wound anymore than he already had. If he went about trying to remove Estel's shirt he would do more damage.

In moments, Estel had the tunic off and the wound exposed. He heard the sharp intake of breath from the Elf and he frowned. He could not see his own back.

"Well?"

Legolas, meanwhile, was taken aback by the wound. It was jagged and blood covered the whole of Estel's back. How the man had not been in pain, Legolas did not know. Or perhaps he had been and had not told the Elf.

"This must hurt terribly, Estel." He gently touched the man's shoulders. They visibly slumped. "It does then…" the Elf muttered. "And the skin is bright red. The venom did get on you. We must clean it. Do you have a water skin?"

Estel nodded and moved to gather it, but Legolas forced him down. "No stay. I will do this for you."

He moved, albeit stiffly, away from the man, who used this opportunity to again watch his Elven companion. He could see the underlying grace in the Prince's movements, though it was hindered by the pain he was in. Estel knew that when well, this was one Elf he would love to see in action.

"This will hurt," Legolas said, returning to Estel's side with water and rags. "But I will be gentle."

Estel smiled. "I hurt you to help your wounds, it is fitting that you do the same."

Legolas didn't answer. He went about his task with an almost mechanical efficiency. Estel wondered just how many times he had treated spider venom, bites and scratches. Probably many, from the way he did it with such ease.

In a few minutes, the work was done, but Estel was beginning to feel the effects of the venom. He was becoming dizzy and his stomach felt like emptying itself.

"Do Elves get sick when they are bitten?" Estel asked groggily. Legolas frowned. "Yes. It is not pleasant. I do not know what it will do to a mortal. I have not had occasion to treat one before." Estel nodded. "Right, then perhaps we had better get on. I don't want to find out the hard way that we need some medicinal herb I don't have."

He gingerly pulled his shirt back on and began to move forward, only to wobble precariously until Legolas reached out and steadied him. "Oh my," Estel muttered. "This could complicate matters. I am quite dizzy at the moment."

Legolas moved him forward. "We shall aid each other then, for neither of us can walk well unaided."

And so Elf and Man hobbled through the darkening forest of Mirkwood and Estel hoped that they would arrive in the palace soon. His vision was darkening as the day did.

Chapter Four: Mirkwood Palace

Estel was getting more and more dizzy and unfocused as they walked. It was mid-afternoon and they were definitely nearing the wood-Elves haven. The trees were greener and the foliage lush. The magic of the Elves had not left this part of the forest and it was brighter and more alive than the rest of Mirkwood.

Legolas, for the most part, had been silent as they drew nearer to his home. He was worried. He didn't know what he was going to say to convince his father to let Estel stay. But he knew he did not wish the man to leave.

He had noticed the wood-Elf sentries ten minutes ago, but he had not mentioned anything to Estel. No doubt, the Elves had already identified their prince and were keeping a safe distance behind him, but following nonetheless.

Legolas fully expected, however, that one; they were unaware he was injured, and two; they had sent advance notice to the palace…to Thranduil.

Sighing, he glimpsed the palace gates in the near distance and he hefted Estel a little, dragging the man back to awareness.

"Are we there yet?" Estel asked looking up, but being so dizzy he could not make out much more than a green haze.

"Aye, we are nearly to the gates and have had an Elvish envoy in the trees for a quarter hour already," Legolas answered.

Estel shuddered beside him and Legolas looked over at him. The man was scared to death. And Legolas felt guilt stream through him. Estel was afraid of Mirkwood palace and the Elves within. He was afraid of how they would receive him.

But so was Legolas.

The man had grown on him in the past 48 hours and he didn't want to destroy this budding friendship. He found the mortal intriguing and trustworthy.

I do trust him then…

"Estel, I need to tell you something before we reach the palace gates, for I do not know what will happen beyond them."

Legolas turned Estel around until they were looking at each other's faces. For a moment, Legolas saw clarity in Estel's eyes as the man struggled to remain with him.

"I do trust you, Estel. In so short a time you have undone a lifetime of misgivings I've harbored against men. I do not yet know how you managed to do it, whether it be you entirely or the likeness you have to an Elf. But I do know this, I am proud to call you my friend."

The man smiled broadly with relief. "That is good to hear, Legolas. It means a lot to me. Let us face the wrath of Mirkwood together."

Legolas steered his new friend toward the palace gates, which immediately cycled open to reveal a blonde Elf in emerald robes. Thranduil rushed forward, but came up short when he noted the companion accompanying his son. A human.

His eyes darkened and he scowled. "Ion nin? Who is this human?" As he spoke, somewhere deep inside he knew Legolas had a good reason for this, especially since the Prince had held some of the strongest feelings against Men.

Legolas, squeezing Estel's shoulder, moved him forward. "Hir nin, this is Estel, adopted son of Lord Elrond of Rivendell. He saved my life and in bringing me home was slashed by a spider as we escaped the grasp of Unglisen."

Only now did Thranduil see the bloody mess of his son's midsection. The red stain had spread further during their walk, but Estel had been too delirious to notice or help.

Legolas was wavering, but he was firm in one thing. His resolve to remain with Estel. "He needs a healer, Ada."

Thranduil, angered at the sudden thrusting of an edan into his midst, was about to resist, but he saw the look in his son's eyes and thought better of it. And there was no arguing that the both of them needed attention.

"All right, take him with you to the healers then," Thranduil muttered, taking his son's arm.

He led the man and the Elf toward the inner sanctum of the palace, a place where no human had been in many years. They drew stares as they moved through the palace gardens toward the healing wing.

Legolas was losing strength rapidly and his steps were dragging. His struggle seemed to be the only thing to get through to the hazy mind of Estel.

"Legolas, you are weakening. You must rest. Please don't push yourself too hard, we will get there soon," Estel muttered, not realizing that they were within the palace gates while in his fevered state.

The Elf laid a hand on his arm. "All is well, Estel. We are in the palace. We are nearly to the healing chambers."

Thranduil watched as Estel's grip on Legolas' arm tightened. "We are in the palace?" he said, the fear permeating his words.

Legolas glared at his father. Thranduil was startled to see the man afraid of being in the palace. Why was he afraid? And why was Legolas so protective of him? Yes, he had saved the Elf's life, but Legolas had hated men for many long years? What was it about this man that his son found to be different?

"You have nothing to fear, Estel," Legolas murmured. He gestured toward Thranduil. "This is my father, Thranduil."

The Elvenking, put on the spot, no doubt intentionally, by his son, nodded and smiled. "Yes, I am Thranduil. You are…welcome…in these halls…Estel."

Legolas knew the words hurt for his father to say. He knew that of everyone in Mirkwood the King held the harshest feelings against the race of men. They had taken his love and nearly taken his son in the process. Legolas had not mentioned the latter part to Estel.

But the thankful expression Legolas shot the King made the words worthwhile. He was a sucker when it came to Legolas. He would do anything for his son if he could. And if it meant accepting this man into his home, he would do that. Or at least try very hard to do that.

He trusted Legolas' judgment in most things. He would not start doubting him now.

The rest of the kingdom would be another matter. They loved their prince but held no room in their hearts for men.

Legolas, upon entering the healing chambers, was immediately swarmed by bouncing Elves. They looked him over in a frenzy, not noticing the other patient in their midst.

That is, until Estel toppled over, only to be caught by Thranduil, who did so as a reflex. He balked at the thought of holding a man, but thought better of letting him go. Estel would have fallen to the ground if he had.

"A little help here," he called.

One of the healers hurried over. "Hir nin! It's an edan!"

Legolas, hearing the exclamation, shrugged away from his healers. "Ada! Is he all right!?"

Thranduil laid Estel down on a bed and shook his head. "I do not know, Legolas. I know nothing of the physical capabilities or make up of men."

The healer, getting over the initial shock of the man in their midst, immediately began to examine the man and asked Legolas what ailed him.

The Prince explained what had happened as he was forced to lay back and have his own wound attended to. The healer at his side smiled. "This was treated with athelas. Probably saved your life. I didn't know you carried them, Legolas."

The Prince looked pointedly to his father. "I do not. Estel did." The healer looked over at the man. "He must have healing abilities akin to the Elves, from what I see here. This was well cared for, even though you two obviously got into a battle after it was dealt to you. How did you get it?"

Legolas chose not to answer that, instead looking to Estel who was waking up. The man sat bolt upright, nearly knocking his healer over. "Easy!" the Elf called. "We're helping you, we won't hurt you." But the man did not relax until he saw Legolas in the next bed looking over at him. Only then did Estel let himself slump down again.

Thranduil watched the exchange and frowned. Legolas seemed to be quite friendly with this man. How had that happened? Legolas had nearly died alongside his mother and yet he had befriended the very race that killed her. He did not understand.

But now was not the time to discuss this. "You will both rest here until you are released by the healers. When you are both well enough to leave, you will seek an audience with me and we will…discuss matters."

Legolas knew what those matters were and a glance to Estel told him the man had a good idea of what the King meant as well.

"Yes, Adar."

But for right now, the important thing was getting Estel and Legolas well. So Thranduil put aside his feelings toward men and let the healers do their job.

He hurried from the chambers and set about the task he wasn't looking forward to doing. Informing his council, who would want to know what was happening with the Prince, that their own heir to the throne had been rescued by a man.

And that said man would be staying with them for a time. He would have to see to it that the man was not harmed by the people. But he knew it would be difficult.

Chapter Five:Mirkwood Reacts

At first, Estel was aware of the sweet smell of herbs. Then he was aware of the brightness of the sun filtering into the room. Lastly, he was aware of the insistent tug on his sleeve.

"Wake up, sleepy head. You have been sleeping for three days, Estel! My wounds are nearly closed and you need to wake up and face my father with me!"

Legolas was perched on the side of Estel's bed, his hand wrapped protectively around his middle, but no sign of pain on his face.

The healers were watching the interaction with great interest. These same Elves had taken care of a near-fatally wounded young Legolas when the Elf had come back carrying his mother's mutilated body.

That time, he had been muttering about men and how he hated them and how he would seek revenge. But those words had been spoken in delirious, fever-induced rage.

Legolas was a bright and kind soul and he had never taken out his anger on any man. He had simply withdrawn from the world, held his anger inside and not spoken of the incident again.

His father, they suspected, knew the truth of what had happened that day, but few others did. They were intrigued that he had befriended this scraggly human boy. The human didn't look a day over 30, to an Elf, that was a mere boy.

But Legolas seemed to get along with him well, perhaps better than he had gotten along with his old friends in years.

"I like the change I see in him," Bardon, the head healer, said to no one in particular as he gazed at the mirth in the Prince's eyes. "I have not seen him this happy in a while. Perhaps it takes the human race to break him and the human race, again, to make him whole."

Estel stirred now and they waited to see if he would be fully awake this time. Legolas had tried this tactic a day earlier, but the man had still been far too delirious to know what was going on around him.

"Legolas? Stop tugging on my sleeve…" Estel muttered, his eyes opening, then closing again at the sudden onslaught of light.

Legolas laughed. "Seems like you are really awake this time, mellon nin!" he called out, not realizing that he was treating the human as he would any Elven friend.

Estel, for his part, didn't notice either. He fully opened his eyes, squinting, and was able to make out Legolas leaning over him. "You look a little blurry," he said with a sigh. "I suppose that will go away when I wake up the rest of the way?"

The Elf laughed and stood. "Yes. The healers were able to find an antidote for you and my father sent word to Imladris that you are here and doing well."

The man huffed at that. "Well? If this is your definition of well I'd hate to see you unwell, dear Prince."

Legolas laughed again and glanced to the healers. "Can he get up?"

They nodded, but Estel thought otherwise. "Get up, Legolas? I barely woke up and you want me to get up? Everything I hear about wood- Elves is true. You are full of energy and must never need sleep."

For his part, Legolas was full of energy. He hadn't felt so good in a while. He felt whole again. Like a weight had been lifted from his heart when he had learned to trust and admire men again. At least this man. He hoped his intuitions were correct and Estel was not the only one of his kind to be thus.

He laughed when Estel flung his feet over the side of the bed and slumped to the ground, then yelped when he felt the cold stone under his bare feet.

"Where are my boots?" he asked, now realizing that he was barefoot, like Legolas, and wearing the clothing of the wood-Elves.

"Those filthy garments of yours have been taken to the cleaners, young man," Bardon said, coming over. Estel shrank back, looking fearfully at Legolas.

But Bardon was intuitive. "You have nothing to fear from me, Estel of Imladris. I do not, nor did I ever, harbor the feelings of my people toward men. I grieved for the loss of my queen and the near loss of our prince, but I never hated your kind."

Legolas shied away at the look Estel gave him. Bardon realized he had given away information to the man that the prince must not have volunteered.

He knew what part too.

"Legolas, you must put that behind you. It was not your fault and you were gravely injured trying to save her."

Estel's head snapped up. He couldn't help it. "You…" but he said no more. "We will not speak of it. You do not want to."

He didn't ask the prince, he stated it. He knew that Legolas didn't want to speak of what had transpired with his mother and he wanted the prince to know that he did not mind not knowing. He would be content with what the prince told him.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Legolas said. He smiled again. "Let's go outside. I must show you the beautiful gardens of the palace. There are none like it in all of Middle-Earth, not even the gardens of Rivendell can stand up to them I have heard."

He extended a hand to Estel.

The man looked at the Prince, saw the trust and sincerity in his eyes, reached forward and grasped the hand.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Estel and Legolas spent hours in the garden each day as they both recovered from their wounds.

To the surprise of everyone, Legolas had taken to the man and was seldom seen apart from him. Rumors abounded throughout the kingdom about the man who had wended his way into their prince's heart.

And a lot of the talk branded Estel as a wizard; one who had cast a spell on Legolas and made him accept him. The people of the forest fathomed all sorts of wicked schemes the man could be cooking up, including that he was tied to the men who had killed the Queen all those years ago.

But none of these thoughts or rumors reached either Legolas, Thranduil, Estel or the palace workers. In essence, those who needed to know did not.

"So Legolas? Are you ever going to tell me more about you in your past? I mean, I've told you just about every story I have to offer, including all the embarrassing ones."

Estel was lounging on a bench in the East Garden, idling twirling a pine cone between his thumb and forefinger. He had tried to get Legolas to speak of his past before, but had been thus far unsuccessful.

He heard the familiar sigh and the lurch of the bench Legolas had been sitting on. The Prince had stood and was now pacing. As usual. Estel could tell he desperately wanted to speak to him, but that Legolas was still not entirely comfortable with what had happened to him.

And the man couldn't blame him. From what he had culled from serving staff, the Prince had come back carrying his murdered mother and collapsed just inside the gates of the palace.

He had been young, the equivalent of 13 in human years, and he was grievously wounded. For many days the healers thought they would lose the Prince. And when his body had mended, his mind and heart had not, so they fought still to keep him in the world of the living.

Thranduil, for his part, pushed away the feelings of sorrow and heart-wrenching grief he felt at the death of his wife and he saw only Legolas. The King neglected the court duties of the royal house, but no one blamed him. He rarely left the healing ward, but no one blamed him.

Instead, his loyal councilors took up his duties and ran the kingdom while Thranduil worked fervently to draw Legolas back from the brink of death.

The King wouldn't have been able to go on if his son had given in to his grief. The elder Elf would have died from his own grief.

Estel now, hundreds of years later, was trying still to get Legolas to speak of what had happened. But he had had no luck so far.

"Legolas?"

The Prince looked at the man, a haunted look in his eyes. He had been playing the scene of his mother's death over and over in his mind again. But he never let it out.

"I have told you all I can," Legolas answered, turning away.

"Perhaps all you think you can, Legolas. But definitely not all you can and not all you should. Keeping it bottled up for all these years could still kill you."

He hadn't meant to sound patronizing, but the hard look he got from the Prince led him to believe that was how he had come off.

"I've only known you a few weeks, Estel. I've never even spoken of that time to my oldest friends. My father is the sole recipient of that knowledge. What makes you think you deserve to hear it?"

Estel frowned. "Why do I deserve to hear it? Why? I'll tell you why, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. Because I too saw a parent murdered. Two in fact. My mother and father were killed before my very eyes by Orcs who raided our camp. I was a small child, but those things burn themselves into your memory and you can see, taste, smell, feel and hear them as if they happened only yesterday. I know what you felt and still feel. And I know you need to speak of it."

The man's eyes widened when he finished his rather loud outburst. He hadn't meant to say that. He hadn't meant to tell this strange Elf all that. But somehow, now that he had, it felt right.

Legolas didn't move. It looked like he was hardly breathing, for that matter. His eyes were riveted to Estel and his hands were clenched at his sides.

He was on the verge of something.

"I…I…Estel," he stuttered. "Why didn't you tell me?" It was an instinctive reaction. He didn't think before he spoke, didn't think that he was asking Estel what Estel had been asking him. If he hadn't ventured the same information, why should Estel have? But that hadn't crossed the Elf's mind in his shock at the news.

Huffing, Estel stood up and crossed his arms across his chest. "Why should I have told you? You didn't tell me! What, because you're a Prince do you think that makes you special? Do you think that means I have to tell you these things when you won't trust me with the same knowledge of your own past?"

He stalked away from Legolas, leaving a very confused blonde Elf in his wake. For a moment, Legolas didn't move. Couldn't move really. He was rooted to the spot in shock.

Estel knew what he was feeling? He had lived through the same situation? And I treated him like just another person trying to drag the story out of me. Maybe he needs this as much as I do?

"Estel! Wait!" He cried, hurrying off in the direction the man had went. He didn't see Estel and he wondered just how fast the man could travel.

Then, he heard an alarmed shriek. "Wait!"

Legolas, recognizing the voice, veered off to the left in the direction he had heard the shriek. Estel sounded like he had been in trouble. But what could threaten him here?

The people do not trust men, Legolas! The Prince chided himself. He never should have let Estel out of his sight!

Rounding a large weeping willow tree, whose hanging leaves and branches had obscured Estel from Legolas' sight, the Elf was greeted with a scene that made his heart leap into his throat.

There was an arrow protruding from Estel's right leg, which the man had a strong grip on from his position on the ground, and another notched and pointed at his chest.

A ring of five Elves were surrounding the man and all had looks in there eyes that were easy to read. Hatred. It was unusual to see such anger on the features of the Firstborn. They were by nature peaceful here in Mirkwood.

"No!" Cried the Prince, running forward.

He reached the ring of Elves just as the arrow was fired, and before he fully realized what he was doing, Legolas launched himself into Estel, knocking him to the ground.

The man shouted his own warning to the Elf, something akin to "don't", but Legolas hadn't heard him, or if he had, he hadn't heeded him.

Estel heard the unmistakable "thwump" of an arrow imbedding itself in flesh, but he didn't feel any pain besides his previous arrow wound.

Legolas fell heavily on top of him.

The Prince, not entirely sure what had just transpired, moved to push himself up with his arms on either side of Estel.

But the moment he tried, there was a searing pain in his back and he cried out and collapsed down again.

Estel gulped at the sudden weight hitting him again, but he realized there must be a reason Legolas was still atop him.

"Legolas?" He whispered, reaching toward the Elf's chest to push him upward and off him. His hands met with damp fabric. Pulling them back, he found them coated in blood. Elvish blood. "No!" He shouted, rousing Legolas back to full awareness.

"Es…Estel? Are you all right?" he muttered, again attempting to raise himself, only to crash back down with another cry. "I…I can't get up."

The man, knowing his friend was wounded, eased him up, but didn't roll him over. The Elves around them were suddenly in motion, finally regaining their senses.

"Your highness!" Cried the one who had fired the arrow. "I'm sorry. That was not meant for you! I only meant to dispatch the edan!"

Legolas couldn't answer. Estel, who had wormed his way out from under the Prince, immediately turned his attention to his friend.

He gasped.

A beautifully fletched arrow it was. But to him it was ugly. One of the most ugly things he had seen. Protruding from Legolas' back, directly between his shoulder blades, the arrow was ugly to Estel.

Realizing what had happened only made matters worse for the Elf. Pain suddenly ripped through him and Legolas let out another sharp cry. But he was rapidly careening toward darkness and was unable to move.

Estel fingered the tunic around the wound, trying to ascertain just what type of arrow it was. Then, he remembered the one who fired it.

"Do you barb your arrow tips?" he called out loudly.

The Elf didn't answer at first, still shocked that he had shot his Prince in the back in the palace gardens. He knew he was in serious trouble.

"DO YOU?" Estel shouted, furious at the Elves for the pain and harm they had caused the Prince.

"No…no!"

Estel didn't wait for anything else. He held Legolas still and pulled. The Elf screamed this time, but Estel pushed it from his mind.

Instead, he immediately tore a large section from his tunic and pressed down on the wound, bringing a moan from his friend. "Easy does it Legolas," he soothed quietly in the Grey Tongue. "We have been through this before. I will not lose you this time."

But the Elf was already unconscious.

Chapter Six: The Power of Friendship

For days, Legolas did not stir and the worry began to show on Bardon’s features every time he entered the healing ward and stepped up to the Prince’s bedside. Thranduil was beside himself with grief and even Estel, who had thus far been so sure his friend would live, was beginning to worry.

This particular afternoon was odd in that Thranduil had to leave and take care of court matters. Namely, the five elves who had attacked Estel and led to Legolas’ current condition.

The man knew inwardly that the King would do the right thing, even though he feared for the Elves while Legolas dallied in unconsciousness. If only the Elf would wake up, Thranduil’s anger might subside some.

Sighing, Estel pushed the chair he usually sat in when the healing chambers were empty, over to Legolas’ bedside and slumped into it. His leg was throbbing from the short exertion and he panted a bit until the pain dulled.

Legolas’ pale features were alarming to him, but he knew that they were not as pale as they could be. Legolas, being an Elf, was light-skinned to begin with. But just about anything that could worry Estel about his friend’s condition, was worrying him.

“Legolas? Please, wake. You have worried us all long enough, mellon nin. Your father particularly, I’m afraid for those Elves who wounded us, for he is not likely to be easy on them with you thus.”

There was a light moan.

Estel sat up abruptly. It was the first response of any kind that had come from Legolas since he had passed out in the garden and Estel hoped it was finally a sign he was awakening.

Another moan and a shift.

Legolas’ eyes, slowly but surely, fluttered and he winced at the intrusion of light. But, he forced himself to open the eyes and look over at the bleary figure beside him.

Dark hair. Musty smell. “Estel?”

“Yes, Legolas! Does your wound pain you? Do you need anything? Water? Painkillers? Your father?”

Legolas wanted to chuckle, but was not sure he could. Instead, he lifted his hand and attempted to wave Estel’s questions off. He got a feeble response from the limb, but not much more.

“I want to speak to you,” he finally answered. “But you’ll need to come closer.”

Estel did so immediately, leaning on Legolas’ bed with both elbows and cushioning his head in his hands. Legolas looked at him oddly for a moment, but decided not to question the position.

“I was very young and had only just learned to shoot my bow…” he paused, glancing toward Estel. The man was riveted already, knowing that he would only get one chance to hear this. Legolas continued.

“We had gone out with some of the royal guard for a trip to Lothlorien. Mother wanted to take me there to meet some of my kin in the Golden Wood, but we never made it past the borders of Mirkwood…”

Flashback

“Ata! Look! I know the spiders are evil, but their webs are so beautiful with the morning dew and the bright sun! It looks like glass beads on white necklaces!”

The young Elf was pointing upward at a long-abandoned spider web. It was a beautiful sight, but Ithilwen did not like the fact that there was a web here in the first place. They had warriors with them, but she still worried for her young one’s safety.

“Legolas, they are beautiful, but spiders are dangerous and we must move on from here quickly. I do not like the feeling of these woods. Something does not feel right and there are whispers of warning in the air.”

With her Silvan blood, Ithilwen was highly tuned to her surroundings. Legolas frowned. “I hear nothing, Mother…”

Ithilwen smiled. “Worry not, young one. You will learn to listen to your surroundings in time. Right now, you are young and have much yet to learn of the ways of the natural world. Come…let us be off. Lothlorien awaits.”

The young Elf nodded and skipped ahead of his mother. He was ever under the careful gaze of the head royal guard, however. Celronen would not let the prince out of his site for a moment. He glanced to the Queen and found her looking at him.

“Your highness? Something bothers you.”

Nodding, she spoke quietly, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Promise me, if you had to make a choice between my life and that of my son, that you would choose my son.”

Celronen faltered in his step, nearly coming to a complete halt. “M’lady! Why ever would you make me agree to such a promise?”

Ithilwen did stop. “Because in the event it happens I would like your word.”

Not able to deny his liege, he nodded. “I would and I will should the need arise.”

He didn’t like the way Ithilwen’s eyes flirted to her son and she sighed in acceptance. “Then all is well.”

Celronen could not disagree more. “M’lady. Have you forseen something? Your gift of foresight is great and I do not wish to be surprised if you know something.”

Ithilwen shook her head. “I see men. But I do not know what that means. I just wanted your word, Cel. Nothing more. I have not foreseen anything in specific. I have a feeling that is all.”

The warrior nodded. But he was not appeased.

Legolas, who had gotten rather far ahead of the group by now, suddenly stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t been looking where he was going and before he knew it, he had crashed headlong into something.

Or rather…someone.

A very tall someone with dark brown boots and course fabric leggings and tunic. Legolas took a step backward his eyes wide and nearly stumbled over a fallen tree branch.

His eyes widened further when he realized the being he had run into was not an Elf but a man. Legolas had little occasion to meet men and this was definitely not how it usually happened.

Unfamiliar with the Common Tongue, he stuttered. “Pardon…I had not the intention to hit into you, Sir.”

The man chuckled. “Young Elf, your Common could use some work, but I get your meaning. It is rather good that you did though, for Elves were who we sought.”

More men materialized from around him and Legolas stepped further back, this time running into Celronen. The Elder Elf had his eyes trained on the leader of the men, or who he assumed to be the leader, and he placed both hands on Legolas’ shoulders.

“Pardon our wayward companion, Sir. He was not paying attention to where he was going. If you will pardon our sudden appearance, we would be on our way.”

The man smiled again. Celronen did not like the smile.

“No, I should like to remain in your company.”

The warriors touched their weapons now, as did the men. Legolas’ eyes were wide with surprise. Men never threatened them before. Ithilwen took her son’s shoulders and drew him behind Celronen.

The man caught sight of her. “A she-Elf. Fancy that. What might you be doing in the company of so many warriors, who are so…heavily armed?”

A cursory glance did not reveal that Legolas and Ithilwen were royalty, but the men knew they were no ordinary Elves. What ordinary Elf would have a guard such as this?

“Lay down your weapons and we will not harm you,” Celronen said.

The man laughed again. “I think not.”

And before Legolas knew what was happening, they were under attack. Ithilwen let out a scream of surprised fright before she was hustled away by a warrior, Legolas in tow. Both were deposited on the outskirts of the skirmish with a guard to take care of all who penetrated the others.

But to the misfortune of the Elves, the men were more in number and gaining the upper hand. Ithilwen turned to her son. “Legolas, I know you are frightened, but I ask you to take to the trees and hide. Do not emerge until the battle is over and if it goes against us, do not emerge until the men are gone.”

“No…” Legolas began to shake his head. “I won’t leave you, Ata!”

But she gripped him tightly. “Do it, Legolas. I do not ask it of you, but order it of you as your mother and your Queen. Do it now!”

He nodded, tears leaking from his eyes. Grabbing the tree beside him, he hoisted himself upward and began to make his way into its higher bows. He heard the shouts of the men, nearly below him, where his mother was.

“Where is that Elf brat?! Don’t let him get away!”

Then there was a scream. A feminine scream. Mother! Legolas desperately wanted to vault from the tree and save his mother. He heard Celronen shout out and then heard a thud and a scream from Ithilwen that sounds a lot like “Cel!”

Tears did more than leak now…they poured from his eyes, blinding him. But he couldn’t stay up here. He couldn’t let them kill his mother and all his friends and do nothing about it! Orders or not, that was his mother!

So he wound his way back down. And froze on a low limb.

Ithilwen’s white gown was stained bright red, nearly nothing on it remained white. She was stumbling around, in the midst of a circle of men, and they were jeering and laughing at her in her pain.

Legolas’ eyes saw only fire then as he pulled his bow from his back and began to fire into the men with no regard for accuracy or aim. Luckily his instincts were good and he killed many of them before he was felled from the tree by two well-aimed arrows.

The men retreated now, thinking their quarry finished. Legolas, panting and bleeding, crawled to his mother’s side and shook her. “Ata! Ata wake!”

She shuddered and her bright blue eyes opened. “Legolas!? You are here?”

He nodded, tears falling on her bloody face. “Yes, I have to take you home, Ata. Bardon can fix you, I know he can, he’s a great healer.”

She shook her head. “No he is not that great, no healer can save me, Legolas.”

But the elfling would not listen. Instead, ignoring his wounds, he lifted her with surprising strength. Ithilwen was not a tall elf, she was very light and he was determined.

But as they continued on, Ithilwen’s breath slowed to a trickle and Legolas’ strength waned. He walked and walked and walked…never losing his determination, but slowly losing his battle to remain upright.

The gates…there were there, right there and he was nearly to them. “Ata…we are nearly there.”

He did not realize that in the day that he had been walking, when all that drove him was sheer love of his mother, he had not noticed that Ithilwen had stopped drawing breath hours ago.

End Flashback

“So I arrived at the courtyard, the very one we arrived in a few short weeks ago, and I fell to the ground in exhaustion. But I had gotten her here, Estel, and I thought I had saved her!”

His eyes were full of tears, some shed, some waiting to be shed. He was tiring and his voice was barely audible in his growing pain. The wound was reminding him of its presence. He had to finish.

“Ada ran out and he dropped to the ground beside us and I told him ‘Ada I brought Ata home. Bardon can save her, can’t he?’ But…I didn’t know, Estel. I didn’t know I had been carrying my dead mother for hours. I truly thought she would live.”

He paused. “Then Ada told me, I’ll never forget his words. ‘Legolas, your mother has left this world. She passed, my son.’ And when I heard them, I cried, Estel, and he cried with me. My tears were not just from sorrow, but the pain of my wounds.”

“Ada noticed the arrows then, one in my shoulder and the other in my right side. He pulled my mother from my grasp and carried me, while another took her. And I remember little else but despair after that.”

Legolas was winded and could say nothing more right then. He sighed, needing to add one more thing. “Thank you…for being my friend.”

Estel nodded. “No…thank you. It took a lot to trust me with that knowledge, Legolas. You had every right to withhold it from a man after what those men did to you and your mother. But know this, not all the race of men is as such. And I will never hurt you, mellon nin. Never.”

Legolas smiled and nodded, gripping Estel’s hand as he fell into a deep, healing sleep.

Thranduil suddenly emerged from the nearby doorway, his eyes riveted to his now slumbering son. He had heard everything. “If it is not witchcraft, as the people claim, which binds you to my son, than what is it that has taken away his hatred of men in so short a time?”

Estel looked up from his spot beside the Prince’s bed. His eyes were glistening with tears he refused to let fall. “It is friendship, my Lord. Nothing more. There is no greater binder than that.”

“Friendship?” Thranduil let the word roll over in his head, not really expecting an answer. But he got one.

“Aye,” Estel replied. “Friendship is the greatest power of all. It transcends race, time and place. It transcends history. And, in this case, I hope that is does more. I hope it will heal Legolas. And myself.” He looked down. “Yes, it is the greatest power of all,” he whispered to himself.

Thranduil nodded. In a moment, he was standing behind Estel, gazing at his son’s slumbering form. He gently, tentatively, laid his hands on the man’s shoulders.

“Is there room in this friendship for an old King?”

Estel smiled and put one of his own hands on the King’s. “Aye, my lord. Friendship is boundless. And I offer it freely to you, too.”

Thranduil took a deep breath and as he released it, he released the hatred of men he had held for so many years. “I accept the offer and reciprocate, Estel. Your name fits you, mellon.”

And so, not only was it the beginning of two beautiful friendships, but it was the beginning of acceptance and peace among a people that had long harbored hatred.

Chapter Seven: Epilogue

Legolas knew one thing for certain.

He had never felt so good in his life. Once he had let out the story of his mother’s murder, the weight of the tragedy had all but disappeared.

True, he still felt some guilt and definitely felt sorrow, but he was not burdened or bogged down by it.

Stretching his arms above his head tentatively, he smiled. The wound in his back was healing well. Since he had released his emotional hurts, his physical ones had begun to rapidly heal.

Estel, for the most part, was a constant fixture at his side and Legolas was glad the two would be given permission to leave the Healing Ward this day.

Thranduil had meant to deal out judgment to the five elves who had cornered and attacked Estel, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it while Legolas had been unconscious and on the brink of either passing or waking up.

So, he had waited.

And now, Legolas and Estel would partake in the proceedings. It was fitting; they had been the most ill-effected by the incident.

As Estel helped him from the bed, Legolas sighed. “How shall I know what is right if it is my choice to decide their fate?”

His friend smiled. “My Ada always says to trust your judgment. You’ll know what is right when you must. Come on, we’re already late.”

Legolas laughed. “Don’t you think my father would allow me some reprieve from being on time? I am, after all, still unable to move in most directions.”

“I’m sure he would forgive you, Legolas, but you know you want out of here. Show Bardon that you can move about and he might let you.”

Legolas laughed harder at that. “You need to get to know Bardon better, mellon nin.”

The man smiled. Every time Legolas said those words, he felt a flutter of emotion in his breast. Truly, to get to this point had been hard for both of them. Hard for Estel to prove his worth and for Legolas to let go his hate. But they had done it and it made it all the more wonderful to hear the words “mellon nin”.

A light tug on his sleeve returned his attention to Legolas, who was moving toward the doorway. “You said we were late, let’s go.”

And the two hurried, or did their own version of hurrying, toward the council chambers where Thranduil had decided to hold the proceedings.

It was a short trip, but it tired the Elf out anyway. He was healing, but not healed yet. With a small grimace he pushed open the doors to the chamber and walked in, Estel trailing a step behind with his limp.

The five elves had already been brought in and when the doors opened, everyone assembled rose and nodded their greetings to the royal and his friend. The prisoners were made to bow and then everyone waited until Legolas had sat before taking their own seats.

Estel was seated beside his friend, to his great surprise, for the Prince and his father were seated in places of royalty.

But he chose not to mention that. Instead, he focused on the fearful expressions of the elves that had attacked him in their blind haze of hatred. Oddly, he felt no anger toward them. Only regret and maybe even a little pity.

Thranduil spoke then, drawing all attention to himself. “You five have committed a high act of treason against the royal family of Mirkwood. Though not your target, you nearly took the life of my son, Prince Legolas and you wounded both him and his friend, a guest in our house and foster son of Lord Elrond. Speak and let it be known why you did this.”

The Elf who had done the shooting was prodded forward and he kneeled before his King and Prince. “My liege, there is no excuse for my actions. I and my counterparts were blinded by our hate of men. We…we thought that the man Estel had put a spell on our Prince and would use him to his own gain. We only meant to save him from the man and did not think rationally. I ask you for no pity or ease with your punishment. I only ask forgiveness from you and your son.”

Legolas saw his father’s eyebrows twitch in anger. Thranduil would not so easily forgive this, he could read that in his father’s eyes. The elder Elf was still touchy about it.

To Legolas’ surprise, he himself was not angry at any of them. He understood the hatred, knew that it could be blinding. But he was uncertain if it was his place to interject.

When Thranduil wasn’t forthcoming with a response, Legolas turned to the King and whispered, “May I deal out the judgment, Adar?”

Thranduil turned to his son in surprise. Legolas rarely asked to make any kind of executive decisions. But, he supposed the Prince had a good reason to want this choice so he nodded his assent.

“Judgment will be passed on you all this very moment…by the Prince.”

Eyes widened and the Elves held prisoner looked to Legolas. They were scared, but trying to hide it. One in particular, the young Elf who had run for help in the garden that day, was shaking with dread.

None of them wanted to die. And death was the usual punishment for such traitorous acts. Or banishment, which no Elf was keen on. Living forever with no chance to reside in any Elvish haven was a punishment akin to death for many.

Legolas glanced at Estel who smiled and nodded at him. He had an idea what the Prince was thinking. Emboldened by the look, Legolas rose slowly. He walked over to the Elf who had nearly killed him and stopped in front of him.

They stood about the same height and Legolas looked at the downcast gaze of the Elf. He reached out and tilted the head up.

“So blind was your hatred. But I know what that is like. So strong was your desire to save me. And I know what that is like, too. Which is how I chose my punishment for you all…”

He paused and stepped back, addressing the assembled. “These Elves will be unbound and released. I see no need for further bloodshed. Their punishment will be no punishment at all. They need only do one thing…” he turned to Estel. “Apologize to my friend.”

Legolas purposely emphasized friend.

All eyes widened even further, if that was possible. Thranduil was smiling. He would not have had the courage to do what Legolas had done. He was still far too angry.

The Elf who had shot the Prince stuttered. “That is all? Apologize? My Prince, surely you desire more from us?”

Legolas shook his head. “No. I do not. As long as you swear to no longer hold this hatred of men in your hearts, you are free to live life as you had before. I have seen the light, so to speak, and I know now that the race of men is each one different from the other, just as we are. We can not hate a race for the deeds of a few. Swear to me this day that you will not do this and you are free to go.”

ll five, one by one, stood before the Prince and swore to this; never to hate so blindly again. And to each, Legolas let out a small smile and nod.

And then it was over and the Elves were filing from the room, muttering and discussing the outcome of the events.

Some were surprised, others were not. But one thing was certain…they had a renewed respect for Legolas and his just ways.

Thranduil smiled as Legolas slumped into his chair. “Not always easy, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” the Prince said with a smile. “I don’t know how you do it on a day to day basis, Father.”

Thranduil sighed. “With a lot of luck and patience, Legolas. A lot of patience. Now…we have another matter to speak of.”

Legolas and Estel looked up at him.

“Don’t look so surprised!” the King announced with a laugh. “I still wish to know what event brought you two together!”

Exchanging glances, Estel and Legolas brought him up to date. The King’s eyes darkened at the mention of the men trapping and selling Elves.

“Something must be done of this.”

Legolas nodded. “I agree, Father. But what? Shall we hunt these men down and kill them? What course do we have?”

Thranduil sighed. “Giving the order to hunt down and destroy any living being is difficult, Legolas. But think of all the innocent lives the death of a few slavers will save. Can you not justify it that way?”

The Prince frowned. “I shall never be able to justify death, Father. But you are right, we have no other recourse. Unless we were to imprison them for the rest of their mortal lives.” He turned to Estel. “Do you have an opinion here?”

Estel was a bit taken back by the question, but quickly recovered. “IF you ask me, I think that life in prison would serve them right. Mortals will not live forever, but we do have memories and we do have desires to be free. If you jail these men for the duration of their life, perhaps they will see the error in their ways. Perhaps it will punish them further than an easy death.”

Thranduil nodded in thought. “So you think it is a greater punishment than death then, to imprison them?”

The man nodded. “I do.”

“Then so be it.”

Estel looked at the King. “You…you’ll do what I suggest?”

Nodding, Thranduil smiled. “You know mortal minds and hearts far better than I, Estel. I trust your judgment, no matter what my feelings toward men may have been a few short weeks ago.”

Legolas smiled at his father. “Then you truly trust Estel?”

“Yes, Legolas, I do.”

Estel laughed. “Hey…enough already…we all trust each other, let us not discuss it further. My brothers will truly be amazed that I have managed to befriend the King and Prince of Mirkwood. They warned me not to think I could.”

Thranduil and Legolas laughed. “Perhaps a visit to Imladris would be in order then? So they will believe you when you say you have befriended us?” the King said with a smile.

Legolas’ eyes brightened at that. He had not ventured there in many long years. “Honestly, Adar?”

The king nodded. “Honestly. And on the way…we can take care of those men…”

Estel glanced at Thranduil. “But your highness, that is far out of the way! The southern borders of Mirkwood.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened. “Legolas? Why were you on the southern border?”

The Prince blushed. “Well…I…see…” he sighed. “I was going to place flowers where mother…and i…where…”

Thranduil stopped him, recognition dawning in his eyes. He had forgotten the time of the year it was. “I see. As you do every year when you think I do not know where you go…”

Legolas’ head snapped up. “You knew?”

The King smiled. “I knew. Most years I silently followed you and laid my own down. This year, I did not. I dearly wish I had.”

The Prince was stunned. He had never known his father followed him. “Why did you not come this year?”

Thranduil shook his head. “I know not.”

Estel piped up. “Then perhaps it was fate. For if you had been along, Legolas and I might never have met.”

The two Elves nodded in agreement. “Perhaps…” Legolas said. “But you know Estel, knowing you is rather painful…”

Estel smacked him on the arm. “But we still need to figure out how to capture those men?”

A voice piped up from the doorway. “Pardon the intrusion, hir nin…”

The Elf who had just been pardoned of treason stepped into the chamber and bowed low. Thranduil beckoned him forward.

“Speak, what is your name?”

“Celronen.” Legolas’ head turned and he stared at the Elf.

“For whom are you named?”

The Elf swallowed. “My father. He was once the head of your royal guard…he perished with the Queen.”

And now Legolas really understood how the Elf had hated men so strongly. So did Thranduil and because he now realized this he pardoned the intrusion.

“What do you wish to say?”

Celronen took a deep breath. “I wish to take a party to the southern border and round up the men who hunt our people.”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. “Why? So you can kill them?”

Celronen shook his head. “No, my liege…so I can prove to you that I have let go my hatred. The temptation to kill them would be great. I wish this chance to prove myself.”

Legolas looked to his father as the king pondered the request. “You may do as you have requested, Celronen. And you may bring the four elves who conspired with you so that they too may prove themselves. I will send Ranthir, head of my southern patrol, to see that you do not kill unnecessarily.”

Celronen bowed and thanked his King, hurrying from the room.

Legolas smiled. “That solves that problem, Adar. So when do we go to Rivendell?”

Thranduil and Estel laughed. “When do you wish to go?” the former asked with a smile.

Of course Legolas answered, “Right now…”

Estel smiled. “How about next week? You still can’t walk straight, remember?”

It was Legolas’ turn to smack him. But Thranduil nodded his agreement. “I think a trip to Rivendell next week sounds wonderful. I shall send word by carrier pigeon immediately.”

Legolas and Estel smiled happily. “Oh wait until your brothers hear about this trip…do you think they will hover over you like mother hens?”

“Oh yes…definitely, but you shall not escape that treatment either, dear Prince.”

A smack resounded in the hall and a chuckle escaped the King.

“Young ones…”

THE END (for real this time...)