Thus sang Estel as he walked the forest in Rivendell. He had just come into his own. Everything he saw seemed to join in his joy. His eyes sparkled in the light of the setting sun. He trailed his hands along the bark of the trees, happy to be home once more.

Suddenly, the song came to life. Luthien walked before him. He ran toward her, crying her name lest she vanish. She looked at him with a curious expression on her face. "Why did you call me that?" she asked him.

Estel gaped at her. "Aren't you -- I mean-- I thought  you were -- were indeed- Luthien Tinuviel," he stammered, his face turning bright scarlet from his chin to his ears.

The maiden rolled her eyes and smiled. "So many have told me before," she commented. "Who are you?"

"I have always been called Estel, but my name is Aragorn son of Arathorn."

The young woman suddenly laughed. "Why then we are distant kin!" she cried. "Im Arwen Undomiel Elrondiel."

"Elrondiel! Then why have I never met you before?  Surely Ada hasn't kept you locked up somewhere?" Aragorn was confused.

"Oh, no, I have been with my grandmother in Lothlorien for many years. It has been a long time since I was last here in Imladris." She looked at Aragorn's face and smiled. "Wherefore are you so surprised? Didn't you know the children of Elrond Peredhil have the life of the elves? Come, tell me about yourself, for I have heard much of you."

So he regaled her with tales of his adventures with their brothers and their pranks on the older elves of Rivendell. She gave him detailed descriptions of life in the Golden Wood.

A few days later, Elrond called Aragorn into his study. Aragorn held his breath. The last time his father had called him into his study alone, it had been to talk about Estel's love for Arwen.

"Estel, I have received a letter from King Thranduil. His young son's patrol has disappeared and no one has been able to find them. There are signs of a fight where they were last seen. If the prince is not found soon, his captors will probably kill him. You are an excellent tracker. Would you be willing to search for the prince?" Elrond's face looked sad and tense.

"Young? How young, Ada?" Aragorn wanted to know.

"He just came of age last month. This was his first patrol. He is an only son and his father loves him dearly," Elrond explained. "If he is killed, Thranduil may die of grief."

"I'll go, Father."

"The last trace of them was found on the north-east side of Mirkwood. Your brothers will go part of the way with you. I am sending them to Angamar which is besieged by orcs."

Aragorn knew how hard it was for Elrond to send all three of his sons out on dangerous missions. "I'll go right now, Ada," he said, standing up and walking to the door.

"Aragorn, you are to leave tomorrow with your brothers." Elrond's mood was lightened by his youngest son's enthusiasm. The young man was full of life and eager to use his energy to protect the free peoples of Middle-Earth.

Legolas opened his eyes and looked around him. At first, he thought he had not opened them at all. It was pitch black. He tried to open his eyes and realized that he really had opened them. His hands were above his head for some reason and he realized he was sitting up with his back to a stone wall. The floor seemed damp and muddy, as if the room was frequently flooded. Legolas tried to lower his hands to his lap, but something held them in place. It slowly dawned on the young prince that his hands were chained above his head. He tried to figure out where he was, but his mind seemed slow and foggy. Legolas wondered if he had been drugged. That would explain why he felt so drowsy.

His last memory was of fighting a large band of men and orcs on the north-eastern border of Mirkwood along with the patrol he was part of. Legolas could not remember anything after killing a large, dark man. He wondered whether the rest of his patrol was with him. His heart quailed at the thought of being trapped in the dark and alone.

"Ithilion?" he whispered. There was no answer. "Ithilion, are you here?" he called softly. Still no answer. "Gilion?" he tried next. No answer this time either. "Is anyone here?" he called. No one answered him. Legolas called louder. The only answer was his voice echoing against the stone walls of the prison. The silence sent chills down his spine. Was he the only one left alive?

Hours went by. His arms were sore from being chained above his head. His eyes ached from trying to see in the darkness. Finally, he saw a small, flickering light and heard footsteps. Legolas heard keys rattle and the door creak open. The light came toward him and he realized it was someone carrying a torch. The man's footsteps echoed loudly in the silent prison. As it got nearer, Legolas saw that one man was carrying the torch followed by a small group of men and orcs. He fought against the chains that bound him, trying desperately to flee from the orcs and the men that commanded them. He could now see the chained, still forms of a few of the members of his patrol in the torch light.

Legolas looked up into the face of the man holding the torch. The man was, apparently, middle-aged, with dark hair and dark eyes. His face bore a fierce expression. "This is the one," he stated. Two of the orcs held his arms while one of the men unlock the shackle that chained his right wrist to the wall. He then fastened another chain in its place. Legolas's left arm was released next and fastened to the other end of the short chain connected to his other wrist. The orcs then pulled him to his feet. "Walk," the man ordered, looking at Legolas.

The prince gave him a defiant look and refused to move. All three orcs forced him forward, but he determinedly fought back. Legolas lunged for the man bearing the torch, who side-stepped him, leaving the young prince to crash to the muddy prison floor. The orcs again pulled him to his feet and, with the help of the other three men, forced him to walk out of the dungeon.

The bright light blinded Legolas after so many hours in the dark dungeon. He could just make out the form of a tall man seated a few feet away before his feet were kicked out from under him. The prince rose back to his feet.

"Ah, Prince Legolas. Welcome," the man said with a kindly facade. His face looked fair as he smiled in greeting.

Legolas looked up at the man. He saw a crown on the mortal's head. "Let me go!" he yelled.

"I must apologize, my prince, but I'm afraid I can't do that yet," the king told him. "I need your help."

"If you needed my help, why did you kidnap me?" the prince demanded. "My father would have sent me had you asked him."

"Legolas, I know your father is the king of Mirkwood and an elf, but I must require that you show me the respect any other subject would show a king," the mortal chided him in a rather friendly manner.

Legolas's eyes flashed. "But you kidnapped me, your majesty!" he spat with an outraged sneer. "And I am King Thranduil's subject, not yours."

"Your father is abandoning you," the mortal king said viciously, abandoning any attempt to seem kind and fatherly to the young elf. "It was his wish that you and your patrol be my captives and subjects. He told me."

"No!" Legolas cried, fearing the possibility. "My father never betray anyone like this!"

The king smiled. "He did," he taunted. "And you will acknowledge me as your king."

Legolas calmly looked him in the eye. "Never," he said quietly and firmly.

Aragorn looked over at his twin brothers. As usual, they were teasing each other. Elladan lightly punched his twin in the shoulder over a taunt Elrohir had flung at him. Elrohir turned on his brother. Aragorn rolled his eyes. He should have seen this coming. Elrohir threw his foot out to trip Elladan, who stumbled, turned around and grabbed Elrohir's arms, trying to push him over backwards. Aragorn tried to smother his urge to laugh.

"Stop it! Stop it, Elladan!" Elrohir cried, staggering and laughing. "Stop it, we're going to fall!"

"Of course you'll fall!" Elladan replied, also laughing hard. "That's the whole idea!"

At that, Aragorn gave up his attempt at self-control, and burst out laughing as if all the elflings of Middle-Earth and Aman were tickling him with the feathers of all the birds of Arda. Just then, Elladan succeeded in shoving Elrohir backwards and fell on top of him. Aragorn was not close enough to see the look that passed between the twins as they wrestled on the ground. They slyly approached him, rolling over each other as they went.

"Hey!" Estel called over their laughter. "Watch where you're going!"

If his half-elven brothers heard him, they did not respond. A few seconds later, Aragorn tried to jump out of the way as the two rolled into him, but it was too late. The wrestling match between the twins became a light-hearted fist fight between the three brothers. Elrohir grabbed a handful of ragweed and tickled Aragorn's nose with it as Elladan held him down. Estel's sneeze was so loud that the elves on the western border of Mirkwood could hear him. Elladan laughed. Aragorn grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it into the elder twin's hair.

"All right," Elladan yelled with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "That does it, little brother."

Elladan tackled his mortal brother and smeared his face into the small area of dust where Aragorn had grabbed the dirt he had thrown. All three then rose to their feet and brushed off.

"Well, now that you two have stopped acting like children," Estel observed with a teasingly superior air. "It is high time to be back on our horses. If, that is, we are to reach the border of Mirkwood today."

They reached the eaves of Mirkwood at mid-day. There the twins turned off the road to proceed to Anganor and Aragorn continued into the heart of Mirkwood.

That evening, Estel reached Thranduil's palace. It was with great reluctance that the gate guards allowed Aragorn to enter. One led the mortal to the brightly lit throne room.

Aragorn turned to the elven throne, but the seat was empty. He scanned the room, searching for the king of the forest. Estel saw him in a far corner, soothing a weeping elf-maid. He walked over to the elven king and knelt on one knee before him. Thranduil turned to him.

"Im Estel Elrondion, hir nin," Aragorn introduced himself. He felt quite nervous, fearing that Thranduil might reject his aid merely because he was a mortal. "My father sent me when he received your letter about... about Legolas,' he continued quietly in Sindarin. "I hope I may be of aid in finding the prince."

Thranduil's eyes filled with tears at these words. "Rise, young Dunadan," he said quietly. "Hannon le be dulu lin. In the morning, I will lead you to the place where he was taken, although I know not what good it will do."

"Sire," Aragorn told him. "I am a ranger. I have had much practice tracking as such. Mayhap I shall find some sign that your searchers missed. Even an elf is not impossible to track."

The maiden started and looked up at Estel. "You mean to say that you suspect an elf of doing this thing?" she asked.

Aragorn smiled at her. "Nay, my lady," he assured her. "I merely meant that, should I find no other signs, I may be able to follow the prince's own trail."

The maid smiled gratefully at Elrond's mortal son. "Then, when you leave tomorrow," she told him. "Go with the thanks of Laigaladh Thranduiliel, and please..." Here she hesitated.

"Yes, my lady?" Estel urged.

"Please at least bring news of the entire patrol," she murmured, looking down and blushing. "My betrothed is also with that patrol."

Early the next morning, Thranduil himself led Aragorn to the place where Legolas and the patrol were kidnapped. Estel carefully examined the ground. "Look here, your majesty," he called Thranduil came running to where Aragorn was kneeling. The young man held a small cloth in his hand. There was a dark red stain in the centre of the cloth. "Smell it, sire," Aragorn ordered.

Thranduil did so. "Sidhnen!" he cried, horror and understanding dawning on his face. "I'm going after him!"

"You can't, my lord!" Estel objected, holding the elven king's arm. "If you're caught, you, Legolas and the patrol are all doomed! Let me go. As a mortal, I can blend in with them. I'll find your son and bring him home, I promise you! Please, for your son's sake!"

"Aye, young man," Thranduil said, as he sat dejectedly beside the young ranger. "You are right. My presence would only endanger my son and my people. Go with my blessing. May the stars shine on your path."

Aragorn bid the elven king a heart-felt farewell. He studied the ground for a moment and took off at a fast clip. Within a few minutes, Estel was merely a black speck in a sea of grass, even to Thranduil's elven eyes.

Legolas stumbled back into the dungeon. His face was haggard and he was exhausted beyond what he had thought was possible for an elf. When Tirkanul and Irenon shoved him to his knees and chained him to the wall once more, he was too weary to fight back. A week had gone by since he had met with Giran, the king of whatever country this was.

"Your highness!" Ithilion called worriedly. "Are you all right?"

"The same, Ithilion," Legolas called back. "I wish Ada would do something! Maybe he really did want this. Maybe that's why nothing has happened!"

"Legolas!" Gilion interjected. "How can you say that? Don't you know it's not true?"

"No!" the young prince cried, his voice cracking as he spoke. "I don't! I thought Ada wouldn't do such a thing, but now I'm not so sure! It's been a week since we got here!" At this point, Mirkwood's crown prince burst into quiet weeping.

Another week passed. No news came that Thranduil was leading his people from Middle-Earth, so Giran decided to get drastic. He had left Legolas alone with his patrol that week and decided to put the pressure on. If Legolas would cave in and acknowledge Giran as his king, Thranduil would break, feeling betrayed by his son and heir.

Gashdul and Zurdok finally returned from the dungeon, leading a fighting elven prince. Giran scowled at Legolas's thin face. This elf was the most stubborn captive he had ever had. He signal for Gashdul to unbind him and hand him two knives that had been taken from the body of a fallen member of Legolas's patrol. He nodded at Zurdok, who drew his sword. "Legolas, if you wish to see your patrol alive again, you will either kneel and acknowledge me as your rightful king or defeat Zurdok here. Which will it be?" Giran threatened.

Legolas said nothing, but circled round and round Zurdok. He seriously doubted that he could win the fight in his malnourished state. The orc struck the first blow. Legolas quickly ducked the low aimed at his head with ease. The elf struck out with lightning speed. Zurdok could not move out of the way fast enough and took a glancing blow to his side. He howled with anger and advanced on Legolas. Giran could no follow the fight from that point on, for all that could be seen was a flash of metal, a fair, lithe body, a swarthy, heavy body, and mingled blond and black hair whipping around he flashing blades. Around ten minutes later, Legolas cried out as he fell to the ground clutching his arm. Zurdok lifted his blade to deliver a fatal blow, but Giran stepped in and removed the sword from Zurdok's hand. "I told you no killing!" the king said pointedly. "Now remove him."

Elladan and Elrohir rode around Mirkwood in record time. As the approached Anganor, a hush fell around them that boded no good. Elladan gripped his sword as Elrohir removed his bow and an arrow from his quiver. They spurred their horses on.

Some time later, a swarm of arrows flew at the twins from all sides. Elrohir leaped of his horse and shot back as rapidly as he could. Elladan cried out as he fell from his horse, an arrow protruding from his left arm.
"Elladan!" Elrohir shouted, as he threw down his bow and grabbed his sword. With a wild yell, he charged the orcs, killing many as he ran. The orcs closed in on him as he ran, thus cutting him off from his brother.

Elrohir fought desperately, but he was badly out numbered. Although determined to capture him, the orcs, strangely enough, took great care not to injure him. The half-elf's vision exploded as a club hit him on the back of the head, then everything went black and he knew no more.
 

The half-elf pushed himself to a sitting position. That was when he noticed the pain in his arm. He glanced down at where the pain was and saw an arrow sticking out of his arm right above the elbow. Elladan grasped the shaft and pulled, knowing that unless he removed the arrow, the wound would never heal. Pain shot up his arm as the arrow out.

Elladan looked carefully at the arrow. The shaft was black, except for the very end, where something white was stuffed inside it. Elladan pulled the something out, and discovered that the shaft had been hollowed out so the white thing could fit inside. He unrolled the contents of the shaft. It was a piece of paper which bore this message on it:
 

Aragorn looked down from the rocky ledge. He blinked a couple times, sure that his eyes were deceiving him. The young ranger was over looking the land of Anganor. He ran through his memory, trying to work out if he could have gone wrong somewhere, but he knew that this really was where the prince's tracks had led him. This was an unexpected turn of events.

Suddenly, the young mortal got an idea. It would be simple. He was a mortal, so there was no need to hide his ears. All Aragorn would need to do, was to go down into the human country and find some sort of job at the royal castle. That done, surely it would not take him long to find the prince of Mirkwood and ...

Aragorn froze. He just realized that this was where his brothers were heading. If they had arrived, would they have been taken captive, too? He ran down from the ledge, grateful his father had made him study the geography of all the countries in the known lands of Middle-Earth.
 

During this time, a troop of orcs marched in, dragging a bound elf. Aragorn started as he recognized Elrohir. He marked the cell in which his brother was imprisoned so as to recognize it later.
 

Although Aragorn was not present for the execution, he could here it as if he was there. He heard Legolas' heart-broken cry. He also heard Giran's words to the prince, that if his father did not give in within a month or he did not own Giran's lordship over him, the young elf would die. Strider's blood boiled at those words.

Upon Irenon returning Legolas to prison, Aragorn changed the guard and placed himself at the elf's door. If Legolas was to be saved, Aragorn would have to gain his trust and quickly.

"Your highness!"

Legolas looked up at the sound of the whisper. It did not bear the usual mockery and sarcasm, but the elf was still wary. 'Who are you?" he asked.

"A friend," came the reply.

That helped relieve the prince's suspicions some, but it was not quite enough. "If you are a friend, show yourself," Legolas challenged.

A figure stepped out from the shadows in front of the door of the elven prince's cell. "Please," the figure spoke again. "I want to help you."

"No!" Legolas cried quietly. "You're a man! It was your people who kidnapped me and killed my friends. It was your king who deceived my father and convinced him to betray me! And you're a guard! You guards all hate me! It's just a plot to bring more misery into my life!" His voice was hoarse from weeping, Strider could hear the elven beauty, as well as the grief behind the words, in the young elf's speech.

"Please, just listen to me for one minute!" the guard pleaded. "I--"

Legolas stiffened. "Why should I listen?" he cried, beginning to weep. "Why should I listen to those who have been torturing me?!"

"Your fa--" Aragorn protested.

"Just go away and leave me in peace!" Legolas sobbed, his voice rising. "Please, isn't it enough to make me watch the slaughter of my friend and teacher?" He was desperate. The young elf did not think he could survive much more.

The guard sighed sadly as he left to stand beside the door. Alone once more, Legolas leaned forward on the floor until he lay on the slabs of black stone that made the floor, pillowing his head on his arms and cried until he had no tears left.

That afternoon, Aragorn paced his room, muttering almost constantly. Inziladun brought him his dinner, but he had no stomach for food. All the young officer could think about was the elven prisoner and his grief and desperation. He longed to comfort the prince's heartache and ease his suffering, but if Legolas had been too badly hurt to trust any man Aragorn could not make any attempt.

Finally, Inziladun thought he could take it no more. "Sir!" the lad interrupted his master's thoughts. "Please, won't you eat something?"

Strider stopped in mid-stride and looked at the boy. "No, lad," he said tenderly. "I cannot eat tonight. I thank you all the same, friend. You eat it."

"Sir, what's bothering you?" the lad asked.

Aragorn looked at the boy, startled with Inziladun's perception.

"You normally don't act like this unless something is bothering you," the other mortal explained. "Won't you tell me? Is there some way I can help?"

Estel sighed. "It's Legolas," he said. "I spoke to him after the execution today."

"And happened?" Inziladun held is breath, without realizing it.

"He is afraid to trust any mortal," Aragorn explained. "He seems to think that all humans hate elves now and that they were betrayed by his father. Add to that the fact that I am a captain of the guard, well, to sum it all up, the young prince refuses to trust me and I don't know what to say to convince him."

"Would he listen to me, sir?" the boy asked quietly.

"Nay, lad," Strider said thoughtfully. "You are human as I am. He would merely think you are trying to help me win his trust so I can brake it."

"Then who might he listen to?" the boy pressed.

"An elf who knows me," the ranger replied. "But I don't know how--"

"I do!" Inziladun beamed. "You said the elf brought in the other day is your brother?"

"Yes," Aragorn replied, not really understanding what the adan youth was getting at.

"Well, then you move him to the cell next to that of Legolas, and guard them both yourself!" Inziladun smiled excitedly. "It's that simple! Surely your brother will recognize you and say something that Legolas will hear."

Aragorn stared at the boy. Of course! It was the obvious solution! He wondered why he had no thought of it. Then he smiled. "Thank you, Inziladun!" Strider exclaimed softly, as he embraced the youth. "I think it will work! I will do it in the morning."

Two and a half weeks later, Elladan staggered into Imladris in the very early morning. He stumbled up to the door, but never actually entered the house. His vision faded and went black as he collapsed across the entrance.
 

Elrond carefully removed the paper from his son's clasp. Unwrinkling it, the older peredhil read the note written on it. He paled at the words. Leaning over, Elrond picked up his unconscious son and carried him into the house.

Laying the young elf on a bed, Elrond called for Glorfindel. He washed the blood from his dear son's arm and cut Elladan's hair so he could inspect the head wound. Glorfindel entered the room at that point and Elrond sent him to bring Arwen.

Arwen came quickly and found Elrond sitting beside her brother. "Ada!" she cried. "What happened?" Her eyes flew to her wounded brother.

Elrond sighed and handed her the letter. "I would assume that they were attacked. This wound to his arm appears to have been made by an arrow. The head wound is not serious. He was probably riding at the time, was shot of his horse and hit his head," he murmured. "I need you to help me stitch the arm wound closed. I have already checked both injuries for poison and cleanse them."

Sometime later, Elladan regained consciousness. Upon finding his father and sister by his side, he speedily recounted what he could remember of the attack. Elrond pondered on what he had just been told. One of his sons was injured, one was a prisoner and the other was likely in the place where his brother was being held. Estel would not be able to rescue both Elrohir and Legolas, who was undoubtedly also in Anganor, on his own. However, the young man could probably get them out of their prison and into hiding.

"Elladan, Arwen, I need to hold council with my captains. Elladan, stay in bed. Arwen, stay with your brother and make sure he doesn't get up," the elf lord said, rising and heading to the door.

The next morning saw Elrond leading a small force of elves toward Mirkwood and Glorfindel leading a larger group of his people toward the grey havens. Elrond hoped that Giran would think that he was only going to Lothlorien to alert Galadriel and Celeborn to the need to leave Middle-Earth. Soon, he hoped to be with Thranduil, leading their joint hosts to rescue their sons.