TITLE:                        Dark Days

 

AUTHOR:                   Bess

 

E-MAIL:                      hendersons5@btopenworld.com

 

RATING:                     PG13

 

SUMMARY:                 A simple trip for Aragorn and Legolas goes drastically wrong. 

 

DISCLAIMER:            I own nothing of Middle Earth or any of Tolkien’s worlds or characters. Everything recognizable belongs to JRR Tolkien; anything else belongs to me. I have no permission to use these characters and will receive no money for this story. This story is written for enjoyment only. Please do not use my original characters or situations without asking first. Thank you.

 

 

Aragorn looked over to where his friend lay on the muddy ground.  The attack had come swiftly and there were many of them, but the elf and the man had fought hard and managed to defeat all their assailants.  Only at the last was Legolas felled by an orc axe as Aragorn thrust his sword into the creature’s neck. 

 

Now the small clearing was full of the ugly bodies of the orcs, together with the fair being.  Aragorn crawled over to his friend, his heart in his mouth.  Rain fell on the elf as he lay still and pale, an angry gash to his head, his eyes closed.  The man reached out and touched Legolas’ chest and neck, looking for a pulse.  He let out a breath he did not know he had been holding when he felt a faint but steady beat.

 

“Legolas?  Legolas, can you hear me?” Aragorn said as he examined the prince.  “Come on my friend, we cannot stay here” he added almost to himself.  He looked around at the darkening glade.  It would soon be night and he was afraid that where there were a dozen orcs there could be scores more on their way.

 

Legolas made no sound.  Aragorn sat back on his heels and assessed the situation.  Legolas was unconscious and the man did not know how badly he had been hurt.  He himself was exhausted after their enforced battle.  They could not stay where they were but Aragorn knew that he would not have the strength to carry the elf far.  He looked to the trees and sighed.

 

“Well, I’ll just have to build a flet without your help my friend.” He muttered to himself.  He could build a safe platform in the trees by himself, it was one of the many things he had learnt in the years travelling with his friend, but it was far easier and quicker with two working together. 

 

“Just don’t complain that I haven’t done it properly when you wake up.” He told the silent figure lying on the ground.  He didn’t like to think of the possibility that the elf wouldn’t wake up soon. 

 

Aragorn gathered the wood and soon had a makeshift platform made high in the branches of a broad tree.  He knew that they would be safer above the ground.  If any orcs passed by and saw the remains of the earlier skirmish, they would find no trace of the two friends remaining, Aragorn had seen to that.

 

When he was ready he went back to check on the elf again.  He was a little worried about moving him in case he aggravated any unseen injuries, but a cursory examination had not revealed anything more than the axe wound to the elf’s brow, and the risk of being found, vulnerable, on the forest floor at night was far greater.  He tried again to wake the prince, but there was no response.

 

“Come on Legolas, up you come, I’ll try not to hurt you” he soothed as he gently picked up the elf and hoisted him over his shoulder, his anxiety increasing as Legolas made no response to his movements.  He climbed the tree carefully and sighed with relief when he lowered the prince to the floor of the flet.  His arms were shaking as he released the tension he had felt in trying not to injure or drop his friend.

 

Fortunately the rain had stopped and the flet was reasonably dry.  He settled Legolas, covering him with his cloak to keep out the night chill.   The elf was still unconscious but a little more colour was in his features, and when Aragorn sought his pulse it beat a little stronger.  The man had thoroughly bathed and bandaged the axe wound earlier when he had satisfied himself that the wound was clean, in case there had been any poison on the weapon. He did not need Legolas to succumb to a fever as well as his physical injury.  Having tended to his friend’s needs, he drank some water from a flask he had filled from a nearby stream and ate a little of the food they had brought with them on their journey.  He sat close to the prince, his hand resting on the elf’s chest so that he would know the moment his friend stirred if he fell asleep.

 

He watched as the clouds cleared and the stars appeared one by one.  It was a beautiful night with the hope of a fine day tomorrow.  Aragorn shook his head as he thought of how such a promising start to their latest journey together had turned so desperately wrong.

 

*****

 

A few days earlier:

 

 

“Estel, Estel, where are you?”  The tall, dark elf called as he strode into the hall at Rivendell.  “Have you seen our brother?”  He asked an identical tall, dark elf lying untidily across a low couch reading a book.

 

“I think he is with father, mashing up some herbs or poultices or something.  Why do you want him?”

 

“We have a visitor, our Mirkwood friend has just arrived unexpectedly, he’s just stabling his horse and will be here any minute.”

 

“ Oh good!  I could do with some excitement, it’s all been a bit too quiet here recently,” said the seated elf, throwing aside his book carelessly.  This was Elladan, and twin to Elrohir, the standing elf.

 

Their father was Lord Elrond, half-elven, Lord of Imladris and a renowned healer.  Estel was not their true brother, but had been fostered by Lord Elrond when his father had been killed.  Estel was the name given to him by Lord Elrond to protect him and keep his presence at Imladris a secret, but his rightful name was Aragorn and his true heritage was a kingly one.

 

The friend they referred to was Legolas Greenleaf. Many years ago, Aragorn had met the fair elf, only son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood, and they had become firm friends and had been on many adventures together.  The twins had welcomed the prince into their family, and the Silvan elf always loved spending time in Rivendell.  Considering that Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas were hundreds of years older than Aragorn, when they were all together they behaved as recklessly as if they were all in their early twenties like the young man.  Lord Elrond frequently said that they would give him grey hairs before his time (a very real possibility, given his half human - half elven blood) and had patched all four of them up at various times when they came home having got themselves into ridiculous scrapes.   Indeed, it had become a standing joke that Legolas rarely walked into Rivendell unaided after being on a journey with Elrond’s youngest son.  This was not strictly true, but there had been a few occasions when it was so, enough times to make them laugh about it anyway.  The closeness of the family and jokes like these were what made Legolas feel comfortable. 

 

His own home was very different.  Mirkwood had for a very long time been a dark and dismal place except near to his father’s palace, where the Silvan elves still held the encroaching evil at bay.  In the far south of the forest, the tower of Dol Guldur, abandoned for so long, had now shown unwelcome signs of activity, and orcs and other fell creatures had increased in number throughout the woodland realm.  King Thranduil was fierce and formidable, bearing the weight of his troubled realm heavily.  Legolas and his father were close, but their relationship was not an affectionate one, like that of the brothers and Lord Elrond.

 

Elrohir made his way along the corridor leading to his father’s study and workshop.  All three of Elrond’s sons had spent long hours under the tutelage of the Imladris Lord, learning the properties of various herbs and plants and how to prepare them into poultices and infusions to mend and heal. 

 

He burst into the room.  “Estel, did you not hear me call, I have been looking for you, guess who has just arrived on a surprise visit?” 

 

“Who?” said the young man, momentarily distracted from watching a small bubbling pot on a burner.

 

“Legolas!”

 

“What? Where is he?” Aragorn grinned delightedly, making to follow his brother out of the door.

 

“Excuse me,” said a stern voice, “are you not forgetting what you are supposed to be doing here?  You have let that infusion boil over.  It will take ages to make it again, and the ingredients are not easy to come by.” 

 

Aragorn looked sheepishly at the rather cross Elven Lord.  “ I am very sorry Ada, I forgot.”

 

“Hmm.  Not a very good excuse, but it will have to do.  For your penance you will fetch me some more of the herbs.”

 

“I will......can I go now?” the young man said, bouncing from foot to foot.

 

“Yes, go and please try and keep out of trouble.” Said the exasperated elf, glancing down as he mopped up the spills from the ruined concoction.  When he looked up again, he sighed.

Aragorn had already left the room. 

 

When Elrohir and his young human brother returned to the hall, Legolas had already arrived and was being greeted by Elladan.  Aragorn rushed over to the prince and hugged him.  Legolas was always a little taken aback by his friend’s demonstrative nature but returned the embrace.

 

“Why have you come? It’s been ages since you’ve visited, is something wrong?” Enquired Aragorn.

 

“Well thank you” said Legolas in a mock hurt voice, “shall I turn and go back, am I not welcome here?”

 

“Of course you are, you are always most welcome friend, just unexpected that’s all.  Is everything all right in Mirkwood?” Said Elladan.

 

“If my father ranting and raging about ungrateful dwarves and irritating northerners is all right and him slamming doors and snapping at anyone who comes near him because of letters he’s received from Lothlorien is all right and the fact that the heavy snows of winter have raised the river level and it has flooded the wine cellars is all right then yes, everything is fine.” Laughed Legolas.  “The winter snows are almost gone, the pass over the mountains is clear and the first signs of spring are upon us.  I went for a walk a few days ago and it was so beautiful and I was enjoying it so much that I decided to keep going and visit you.”

 

“You did what?” Exclaimed both twins, “ without telling anyone and no preparation?”

 

“I cannot believe you would do that,” said Aragorn smiling and shaking his head, “ surely you told your father?”

 

“I left a message.” Said Legolas indignantly.

 

“The King will be mad,” said Elrohir.

 

“Very mad,” said Elladan.

 

“Well it will give him something else to rant and rave about,” said Legolas, a small amount of anxiety growing in his stomach.

 

It had seemed such a good idea at the time after being cooped up in his home for so long.  The winter had been a particularly harsh one, with the palace completely snowed in for a time, and Legolas had been utterly bewitched by the beauty of the warm spring unfolding in front of his eyes as he walked through the forest.  The sight of every new leaf and fresh blade of grass seemed to make his heart sing.  Every glimpse of dappled sunlight and shade made his spirits rise.  At the top of the pass down into Rivendell he had sat for an age staring out admiring the white snow-capped mountains against the brilliant blue sky.

 

“I’m glad you’re here” said Aragorn, warmly.  “So what are we going to do?”

 

“First, let’s eat” said Elladan, “ I’m starving.”

 

“You always are!” moaned his twin.

 

“I thought elves didn’t get hungry?” mused Aragorn, laughing.

 

“This one does!” said the elf and rushed ahead of them towards the dining hall.  The other three chuckled and followed.  It looked like it was going to be an entertaining visit.

 

*****

 

“...so Legolas and I  thought that we would head eastwards out of Rivendell, and while we were exploring would look for the herbs you wanted, Ada,”  said Aragorn.  He was sitting on the balcony rail to his father’s quarters, swinging his legs, while the prince stood leaning against the wall.  

 

“And are the twins going with you on this little jaunt?” asked Elrond.

 

“No, unfortunately not, they have both already promised to go hunting with others to restock the food supplies after winter my Lord,” replied Legolas.

 

“Then I will tell you how to find the plants I need.  There are a few rare varieties that only grow to the east of here, I will give you a list.  Take care, enjoy yourselves, and please try to walk back into this valley on your own two feet both of you!  I’m tired of having to patch you up after every trip!” said the older elf, making the usual joke.

 

“We will!” laughed Aragorn, and the two friends left to pack supplies for their trip.

 

*****

 

They set out later that afternoon, expecting to just clear the valley by nightfall.  It was truly a magnificent spring.  It was one of those cold but sunny days early in the year when the sun is still too weak to warm a traveller, but casts a golden glow over the land.  The river flowing through Rivendell was in full spate, swollen with all the melted snow waters from the mountains beyond.  Everywhere there were signs of new life after the dead of winter.  New pale green grass was pushing its way through the blackened leaves of the autumn before.  Sticky buds were emerging on the bare branches of the trees and small creatures and birds scurried through the undergrowth as the two friends ambled along.

 

They were in no hurry, which was just as well as the elf was constantly distracted by the beauty around him.  After the third stop in barely a hundred yards, Aragorn sat down heavily on a fallen tree trunk.

 

“Really Legolas, do we have to examine every sign that spring has arrived?  We’ll never make our campsite by nightfall at this rate.  It’ll be quicker to go back to Imladris and leave again in the morning.” He said grumpily.

 

Legolas sighed wistfully.  “I’m sorry Estel.  It’s just that this last winter was so long and dark.  I feel as though I’ve been starved of sunlight.  I don’t think I have ever longed to see the return of the leaves and flowers as much in all my long years.  I will try and hurry up.”

 

Aragorn smiled at his friend.  “It’s all right, take your time.  I’m just being an impatient human!”

 

Legolas returned his smile gratefully and swung himself up into the branches of the tree above, climbing quickly to the top.  While the elf absorbed the nature around him, the young man sat thinking of what Legolas had said.  Because Aragorn had been raised in a house full of elves he sometimes forgot how different they were.  The prince needed to see and feel nature and light around him like he needed water to drink and air to breathe.  The man thought back to the unpleasant instances when the elf had been trapped with him underground, or when they had taken refuge in a dark cave.  Legolas did not like caves.  Or the dark.  He could get quite difficult on those occasions.  Aragorn was resigned to wait for as long as his friend needed.  They would make the campsite by nightfall and Legolas was right, it was an enchanting spring.

 

*****

 

The two friends lay wrapped in their cloaks on either side of the small glowing fire, staring up at the clear night sky.  Legolas sighed contentedly.

 

“Look, there is Eärendil,” he said, pointing to the bright star above them.  “Oh how I have missed seeing the stars above my head when I take my rest.  There have been far too few clear nights this winter, it has been so grey and dull and overcast.”

 

“ I know what you mean, it has been a long time since we had such a clear night.” 

 

The elf and the man were happy to lie there together silently for some time in the way that true friends can, just enjoying each other’s company.

 

Aragorn pushed himself up on one elbow and looked at the prince.

 

“Will your father be very angry?” He asked.

 

Legolas chuckled to himself, “I don’t think so.  I too have been raging around like a bear with a sore head, and I would imagine that he is glad to be rid of me for a while.”

 

“Good.” Said Aragorn, and lay back down, stretching his arms behind his head.  “It will be good to have your company.  We can start looking for the plants father asked for tomorrow, and I’ve a mind to explore towards the north if you agree.”

 

Legolas rolled over to his side and a frown crossed his face.  “We may face trouble if we venture too far north.  The harsh winter has brought many creatures further south looking for food.  In Mirkwood we have seen more wolves than any of us can remember...”

 

“...that must have been a lot, given the memories of elves!” Interrupted Aragorn.

 

“Humph.” Snorted  Legolas, slightly cross with the man.  “When a huge, slathering beast is at your throat, do not say that I did not warn you.”

 

“If it is at my throat I will not be able to say anything!  I just hope that you will be ready with your arrows my friend!”

 

“I will, if only to say that I told you so!” Retorted the elf.

 

“I will be careful, I promise.” Said Aragorn quietly with a smile.

 

As the firelight settled to a soft glow, Aragorn drifted off into sleep while Legolas watched over him till dawn.

 

*****

 

Legolas woke Aragorn with the sun and the two of them packed up their camp and continued on their journey.  They were in no hurry and were content to amble through the woods and valleys to the west of Rivendell.  They found three of the particular plants that Elrond had asked for, one of which was very rare indeed.

 

“Father will be delighted that we have found this!” Exclaimed Aragorn, “I’ve taken a root as well.”  He put the herb gently into a soft silk pouch he carried for that purpose.

 

“Do you think he will be able to cultivate it in Rivendell?” Asked the elf.

 

“He will try.  We grow many plants in the valley that cannot be found elsewhere.”

 

As the day progressed the skies began to cloud over, and by the early afternoon it was quite gloomy and rain threatened.

 

Legolas was walking slightly ahead of Aragorn when he paused and stood listening intently.

 

Aragorn came up quietly behind him and waited in silence.  He recognised that the elf was uneasy and knew better than to interrupt his concentration.  When he saw the tension ease slightly from his friend’s shoulders he spoke,

 

“What is wrong?”

 

“ I am not sure, but I think something approaches.  We should be on our guard.”

 

The man looked around quickly.  They were in a small wooded valley with few advantages if they had to face something unpleasant. 

 

“I think we should climb out of this dell and gain higher ground.  We can then at least see what is coming.”

 

“Agreed.” Said Legolas. 

 

They scrambled up through the steep side of the wood, but before they reached the top of the rise they were dismayed to see a dozen or so grim figures appear over the ridge in front of them.

 

“Orcs!” Called Aragorn, hastily drawing his bow and firing several arrows.

 

“So I noticed,” Legolas grimly replied, doing the same.

 

The orcs, out hunting for food after the bleak winter, had been even more surprised at meeting the pair of fierce warriors.  Several had been felled before they had time to return the attack, but it did not take long for the creatures to retaliate and they had the advantage of numbers over the elf and the man.

 

Slowly they drove Legolas and Aragorn back down to the valley floor and narrowed the gap between them.  Aragorn had run out of arrows now and was using his sword, cutting and thrusting into the throng of angry beasts.  Legolas was using his knives, whirling, stabbing and slicing, felling the creatures at every turn.

 

The threatened rain had started to fall and the ground was becoming muddy, slippery.  The two friends fought on, each watching out for the other as much as for themselves but they were slowly driven apart by the battle.  Just as he had given up hope of ever winning this fight, Aragorn realised there was only one orc left and it was forcing Legolas back.  He took his sword and leapt towards the struggle, piercing the creature through the neck but not before it had raised its axe and brought it crashing down on the elf’s head.

 

Aragorn sank to his knees in the sudden silence.  His friend lay frighteningly still.

 

*****

 

In the Flet:

 

As promised the day had dawned clear and fresh and the early morning found Aragorn lightly dozing, his arm still resting across his companion’s chest.  The man jolted awake immediately as he felt the elf stir.

 

“Legolas? How are you my friend?” 

 

Legolas groaned and raised his hand to his head where he felt the bandage.

 

“As if there were a hundred cave trolls dancing in my head.” He moaned.

 

“Can you sit up?” Asked Aragorn.

 

“ I think so.”  The elf tried.

 

 “No.  I can’t.  Not just yet.  Sick.”  He lay back down quickly.  He felt nauseous and moving made it much worse. 

 

“What happened?”  He lay there, his eyes still closed tightly against the throbbing in his head.

 

“Your head met with an orc axe.  Fortunately you have a very thick skull and the axe came off worse.” Said Aragorn wryly.  He was very relieved that his friend was awake.

 

“Would you like a drink of water?   It might help you feel better.”

 

“Yes, I think so,” said the elf gratefully. 

 

Aragorn fetched the flask of water to his friend and put an arm around him.

 

“Here,” he said holding out the water, “I’ll help you.”   He eased Legolas into a sitting position.

 

Legolas opened his eyes gingerly.

 

“Oh no,” he groaned, closing them again, “Estel, what are we doing in a cave?   Why do you always think a cave is so safe?  Not a cave, please, no.”

 

A puzzled frown crossed the man’s features and he stared at the elf.

 

“What do you mean, we’re not.....”  He froze and took a sharp breath as he saw Legolas’ eyes flutter open again and stare blindly towards him.

 

Legolas heard Aragorn’s gasp and felt the man stiffen.  He moved his own hand towards his face shakily until it touched his bandaged forehead.  His hand dropped in his lap.

 

“Aragorn?”  Said the elf in a small voice, “Where are we?”

 

Aragorn could not speak for a moment.  His lungs did not seem to work and he tried to catch his breath.  His mouth was dry and when he tried to speak nothing came out.

 

“Estel?!” Cried Legolas, a note of panic creeping into his voice.

 

The young man swallowed and  regained some of his control.

 

“We are in a flet.  I built it and brought you here after the fight.”

 

“And it is not dark, is it?”

 

“No.  It is morning.”

 

Legolas looked wildly towards the sky for a moment.  “Yes.  I can feel the sun.” He said miserably.  He lowered his head.

 

“I cannot see.”

 

The pain and despair in his friend’s voice cut Aragorn through the heart. 

 

“Nothing?”

 

“Nothing.  All is dark.”

 

The man ran his fingers through his hair and held his head.  This could not be true. 

 

“It must have been the blow from the axe.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“We must return to Rivendell.  Father will know what to do.”  Aragorn said with more confidence than he felt at the moment.

 

“You will have to lead me, Estel.” The prince said brokenly. 

 

Tears came to Aragorn’s eyes as he heard the helplessness in his friend’s voice.

 

“Every step of the way, Legolas.  I will not leave you.”

 

*****

 

Getting down from the flet was not easy.  Aragorn did not want his friend to suffer the indignity of being carried and so he carefully guided the normally agile elf’s feet and hands into the tree’s handholds and footholds until they reached the forest floor.  At the base of the tree while Legolas waited he cut a strong but slender branch and trimmed it so that it made a smooth staff for his friend to hold in front of him to test the ground for obstacles as he walked.  Progress was painfully slow, Legolas placed a hand on Aragorn’s shoulder for guidance, the man steering him clear of low branches and tree roots.

 

At first the prince stumbled frequently but as he got used to the feel of the subtle movements of his friend’s shoulder beneath his hand, he found that he became more aware of changes in direction or slope of the path.  His senses of touch, smell and hearing were heightened enormously.  He could smell the rich, damp earth and fresh, new life in the woods around them, and he breathed in the intoxicating scent.  He could hear the minute sounds of small creatures scurrying away from their footsteps and the trickle of streams and brooks from far in the distance.  He could hear clearly the songs of the trees giving praise to the warm sun.  As he walked through a patch of strong sunlight he turned his face towards the sudden warmth on his skin and a tear slowly escaped his eyes and trickled down his cheek.

 

The journey so far had been largely silent, conversation limited to directions and warnings from Aragorn and affirmation from Legolas.  For the first time in their friendship the young man had no idea what to say.  He wanted to tell Legolas that all would be well, that Lord Elrond would make him better, but a dreadful feeling that this was far too serious for even his father to deal with gnawed at his stomach.

 

He remembered as a child seeing an old, blind beggar sitting by the roadside, his sightless eyes turned towards the sky.  He was a wreck of a man, dishevelled and dirty, friendless, avoided by all who walked by.  Aragorn was terrified that this graceful, proud, elegant elf by his side could end up like that.  He silently vowed it would never happen, that he would stay by his side no matter what.

 

He was also anxious for his friend’s state of mind.  He had never seen such despair in the elf’s features before, never known him to be so dispirited.  The pair of them had been in very difficult positions before, with one or both of them injured or exhausted, and had faced many terrifying dangers together.  Usually Legolas was the eternal optimist and could always see the hope in a situation, but in this instance Aragorn could feel his friend withdrawing into himself with every awkward hesitant footstep or unexpected brush of a low branch.

 

They had travelled for two or three miles, far less distance than they would normally have covered in a morning, when Aragorn decided they should rest a while.  Legolas after all had suffered a severe head injury, and whilst the man wanted to get him back to Rivendell as fast as possible he could see that the elf was tiring.  He stopped when he found a suitable spot but Legolas bumped into him, not expecting the sudden pause.

 

The elf gave a sigh, shaking his head in frustration.

 

“I am sorry Legolas, I should have warned you that I was going to stop.  We will rest here a while.  Let me help you sit down.”  He took the elf gently by the elbow.

 

“I will be fine.” Said Legolas tersely, shrugging him off and prodding the ground around him with his staff.  He lowered himself gently to the ground.

 

Aragorn ached for his friend.  He took the flask of water out of his pack and reached out placing it carefully in the elf’s hand.

 

“You must drink, my friend.”

 

Legolas gave a small nod and drank from the bottle.  He winced as he tilted his head back.

 

“Does your head still hurt?” Asked Aragorn with concern.

 

“A little.  If I move suddenly.”

 

There was an uncomfortable silence.

 

“We are making good progress considering.....” Aragorn’s voice tailed off.

 

“Considering I cannot walk more than a few yards without stumbling and crashing into things?” Said Legolas bitterly.

 

“I am sorry Legolas, I will try harder in guiding you.  It is my fault, I should be more careful.” Said Aragorn, close to tears.

 

The elf could clearly hear the tremor in his friend’s voice, but could offer no words of comfort.  He was very frightened, more than he had ever been before.  He would willingly have faced an army of cave trolls and a hundred Mirkwood spiders rather than this perpetual darkness he found himself in.  He wanted an enemy he could see and fight, not this debilitating blindness.  He constantly struggled against a despair such as he had never experienced before and knew that if he let down his guard for a moment it would defeat him utterly. 

 

“It’s not your fault, Aragorn.” He said sorrowfully.

 

Aragorn handed him some food and he took it gratefully.  When they had rested Aragorn stood and looked at the sky.

 

“We’ve a few hours daylight left.  If we can cover five or six miles before we stop for the night, we will be in Rivendell by tomorrow evening.” 

 

He gently took Legolas by the arm and helped him to stand.  He gave him his staff and they resumed their previous positions, Aragorn slightly in front with his friend resting a hand on his shoulder, and continued their journey.

 

The brief respite had helped the prince and they made steady progress almost reaching Aragorn’s hoped-for goal with time to spare. 

 

Suddenly Legolas gripped Aragorn’s shoulder and sniffed the air.

 

“I smell something, it is far off at present, but heading this way.”  His keen sense, magnified by his loss of sight, had alerted him to danger.

 

“What is it? Can you tell?”

 

Legolas frowned in concentration, moving his head from side to side to catch the elusive scent.

 

“Wolves.”

 

Aragorn grimaced, “well, you did warn me.” He muttered, and was pleased to see his friend give a small smile.

 

“I told you so.” The elf said with a slight smirk. 

 

“Yes, I know, don’t rub it in.  How long have we got?” Asked Aragorn.

 

Legolas paused, “Not long, a few minutes.  I am not in a position to help Estel, is there a tree I can climb?”

 

The man shook his head, then remembered Legolas could not see his gesture.

 

“No, there is nothing, the trees are too thin and scrubby, even to support the weight of an elf.” He said, frantically looking around for a way to keep the elf safe.

 

“Place me with my back against a tree and put my knives in my hands.  I will have to do the best that I can.” Said Legolas bravely.

 

Aragorn whirled round as he heard the sounds of the animals coming towards them through the undergrowth.  There was nothing else he could do, so he followed his friend’s suggestion and pushed him towards the stoutest tree he could find, giving him his weapons.  Legolas reached out and found the man’s shoulder and gave it a fierce grip.

 

“I am afraid I cannot watch your back my friend, be careful.” He said, bracing himself for the fight.

 

“I will protect you with my life.” Said Aragorn.  He would not let Legolas fall.

 

The beasts suddenly broke through the bushes and paused, contemplating their prey.

 

“How many?” Called the elf.

 

“Three,” replied his friend.

 

Aragorn decided, that if he could, he would lead the animals away from Legolas.  He crept silently through the undergrowth and as soon as he felt he was clear of the elf he started making loud noises, pushing roughly through the last years’ dry ferns and brambles.  He kept a very close eye on the wolves and when he heard them give a growl and begin to follow him he started to pick up speed running and leaping over obstacles as fast as he could.

 

“That’s it, keep after me my friends!” He muttered, “though I’d rather you weren’t quite so fast!”  He realised they were gaining on him quickly, and hurriedly looked for some way of getting out of this predicament. 

The ground started to slope downwards abruptly and Aragorn found that he was beginning to lose control of his legs as they scissored under him.  His heart began to pound and he frantically tried to stop and turn as he realised that he was rapidly heading towards the edge of a sudden river gorge.  At the last minute he managed to stop himself by grabbing hold of an overhanging branch, as the closest wolf lunged at him, its momentum carrying it over the brink to its death.

 

The man managed to regain his balance and draw his sword.  The second wolf threw itself at him, snarling and snapping ferociously.  Aragorn thrust and slashed with his weapon, but the animal twisted and turned, avoiding all his efforts at dispatching it.  The creature steadily pushed its quarry further and further to the edge of the cliff, the man finding no purchase on the ground, slippery from the previous rain.  Seeing a sudden opening, he lunged forward with his sword sinking it to the hilt in the beast’s flank.  The wolf arched its back and thrashed wildly, legs and claws scrabbling to get a hold on the ground.  It gave a throaty snarl and clamped its jaws around Aragorn’s forearm, slipped, and pulled him over into the ravine.  The last thought Aragorn had as he plunged to the bottom was Legolas, abandoned and vulnerable to attack by the remaining wolf.

 

The prince had heard his friend drawing the wolves away, forcing himself reluctantly to remain as still and quiet as possible.  He hated the feeling of utter helplessness that he found himself in, but he would have done the same thing if  it were Aragorn who could not see.  He knew he would not last long against an unseen foe, all he could do was pray that the man’s reckless plan would work and he would return safely.

 

His enhanced hearing noted the sound of the first wolf’s demise and of the struggle between Aragorn and the second creature.  Unfortunately, he also heard the sudden silence as the pair fell over the cliff.  He strained to listen for any sound that told him that Aragorn was still unhurt, alive, but there was nothing except the sniffing and steady approach of the third wolf. 

The third wolf.  A stab of fear gripped his stomach and his mouth went dry.  He clenched his teeth and hissed in frustration, tensed and checked his grip on his knives.  He heard the animal’s breathing as it drew closer, he could smell the musky odour.  He used every piece of information he had to judge exactly where it was and braced himself for the inevitable attack. His acute hearing warned Legolas of the exact moment that the creature leapt for him, he could actually hear the increased heartbeat and sudden intake of breath as it lunged forward.

He raised his knives and slashed at the air blindly, praying that one would find its mark.  He was lucky as one of the blades sliced into the animal’s side, causing it to yelp and twist in mid-air.  However, the wound made the beast angry and it turned immediately and lashed out at the elf, catching his thigh with a sharp claw and ripping deeply into the flesh.

 

Legolas yelled at the unexpected pain and slipped to the ground, dropping his knives and clutching at the wound.  He gritted his teeth and desperately felt on the ground for a weapon, eventually finding cold metal under his fingertips.  He found the hilt of the single blade and gripped it shakily with both hands.  He could hear the beast panting and growling.  Had he wounded it sufficiently to disable it, or would it turn on him at any moment?

 

He sat against the tree, his breath fast and ragged, his leg aching and his heart racing.  The wolf’s breathing became more erratic and laboured.  It slowed and grew fainter and then it stopped.  Legolas lowered his knife slowly.  

 

The immediate danger had passed and with the release of  tension, the elf  began to shiver.  He wrapped his arms round his body to try to control himself and took several deep breaths.  After a few moments he had regained some composure and rested his head back against the tree. 

 

He had no idea what to do and the thought unnerved him.  If he stayed where he was and Aragorn did not return.....(no, that cannot be a possibility).....if he tried to get to Rivendell alone.....(who was he trying to fool, he could not move more than ten feet without stumbling into something).....if he tried to reach Rivendell and Estel found him missing.....

 

“Well, I should be easy to track since I will be crashing into things and falling down so often.” He muttered to himself. 

 

Remaining at the mercy of any passing orc or wild animal was not a good option, especially as he was very fearful of Aragorn’s safe return.  Imladris was not too far away, was it?  Estel had said they would reach it by tomorrow evening. 

 

“And it is no difference to me whether I travel during the remaining daylight or through the night, it is equally as dark.” He said to himself sadly.  “At least the nearer I get to Imladris, the more chance I have of reaching help.”

 

His leg ached from the wolf’s attack, and he could feel that his leggings were damp from his blood.  He tore off a strip from the bottom of his cloak and bound the wound as best as he could.

 

He felt the ground and found the other knife he had dropped and put both of them into the straps on his back.  He regretfully left his bow as he had no use for it, and thought it would snag and catch on overhanging branches.

 

“And it is likely I will never use it again.” he said wistfully.

 

Legolas pushed himself up against the tree and winced as he put weight on his injured leg.

 

He swallowed anxiously.  Which way should he go?  He concentrated on remembering the way that he and Aragorn had been travelling, the feel of the sun on his face, the sounds of the streams and rivers in the distance.  He judged the direction and tentatively set out along the way, limping heavily. 

 

*****

 

Aragorn forced himself to relax as he fell into the ravine.  The wolf had released its grip on his arm as it plummeted and the young man knew that he stood less chance of broken bones if he did not land awkwardly.  The sides were not sheer, and in fact Aragorn broke his fall in several places, bouncing rather than crashing to the bottom.  The wolf had obviously tumbled down in a similar manner and scrambled up from the ground and skulked off to lick its wounds in a cave somewhere, leaving Aragorn bruised and shaken on the ground.

 

He lay there for a moment and then gingerly sat up, mentally checking himself for injuries.  His arm was tender where the beast’s teeth had broken the skin, but the wounds were not deep.  Satisfied that he would live, though ache with bruises and scrapes from his descent for a long time, he got to his feet and looked up at the valley sides.

He was extremely worried for his friend’s safety and knew that he had to return to him as soon as possible.  He muttered a curse under his breath.  There was nothing for it but to climb back up.  He took a deep breath and began his ascent.

 

It was not impossible but time consuming as the sides of the gorge were very unstable, composed largely of scree and slippery mud.  Aragorn would make reasonable progress and then slide back half the distance bringing tears of frustration to his eyes.  He was growing tired but could not give up.  What if Legolas had been hurt?  What if the remaining wolf had found him?  Would he have been able to defend himself?

 

He tried to ignore the feelings of guilt that flooded through his mind.  He had promised the Prince that he would not leave him, and had broken his vow within a day.  He struggled his way to the top. 

When he finally hauled himself onto more level ground, he rolled to his back and lay there for a moment regaining his breath.  He did not pause for long, pushed himself up and ran to where he had left Legolas.

 

The first thing he saw was the third wolf, dead from a wound in its side.  The sight gave him hope and he glanced round wildly looking for his friend.  Hope turned to anxiety when he saw a pool of blood beside the tree where he had left his friend, together with the elf’s bow.  He picked it up and stroked it gently.

 

“I know why you left this Legolas,” he said under his breath, “but I promise that you will use it again.”  He stowed the weapon in his pack.

 

As Legolas had guessed, his trail was very easy for Aragorn to follow, even though it was getting dark as the evening drew closer.  The man was surprised at how closely the elf had followed the direction to Rivendell but each time he came across signs that Legolas had fallen or stumbled into the undergrowth a pain shot through his heart.  He knew his friend could not be far ahead now and called to him, trusting that the elf would hear him.

 

*****

 

Legolas struggled on, the journey becoming more and more difficult as he met with each obstacle.  He had lost count of the number of times he had tripped over the roots of a tree or boulder, falling flat on his face onto the muddy path, or had his face whipped by the low branches of a tree.  He looked terrible.  Dirt clung to his clothes, his hair was fall of leaves and every piece of visible skin was covered in bruises and scratches.  He was also exhausted with the loss of blood from the wound to his thigh.

 

Suddenly his foot slipped into an unseen rabbit hole in the ground and he fell awkwardly, twisting the ankle of his already injured leg sharply.  White-hot pain shot through his body as he felt the bone snap and he gave a load groan.  He lay on the ground, fighting the nausea that rose from his stomach and trying to remain conscious, when he thought he heard someone calling his name from far off.

 

“Here, over here.....” he cried weakly, as he passed out.

 

*****

 

Aragorn froze for a moment.  He thought he had heard something a short distance away.  He listened intently.  Yes, there it was again, he was sure of it.  He hastily followed the sound looking carefully into the grey twilight of the forest.  He almost fell over the elf when he found him, given his filthy appearance he was almost indistinguishable in the dark from the forest floor.

 

“Legolas!  Thank the Valar!” He cried with relief, and knelt down beside his friend.

 

Legolas gave a groan and opened his eyes. 

 

“Estel.....is that you?” He said weakly.  “Where were you?”

 

“I fell, but I’m not hurt,” he replied.  “ I am so sorry Legolas, I have let you down.”

 

The elf winced and closed his eyes again tightly. 

 

“What happened, are you hurt?  I saw blood by the tree where I left you.”

 

“The wolf.....wounded me.....but I killed it, Estel.”  He said with pride.  Aragorn struggled to suppress his tears at the sound of longing in his friend’s voice.  Longing for things to be as they were.  Legolas hissed as he took a deep breath.

 

“I tried to reach help.....but my ankle.....it’s broken.”

 

The man reached down and carefully examined the injury.  He sat back on his heels and cursed under his breath.

 

“I am afraid it will have to be set, and it will hurt.  A lot.”  He did not want to have to put his friend through yet more pain, but if he did not the joint would not heal correctly.

 

“I know.....it is what I was afraid of.  Do it, Estel.  Quickly.” Trembling, Legolas braced himself ready for Aragorn’s touch.

 

Aragorn put a hand on either side of the fracture, gripped tightly and pulled the break apart, realigning the bone.  Legolas screamed and fainted.  The young man quickly found a couple of thin but strong branches and bound them to the Prince’s leg to support the injury.  He was grateful that Legolas was unconscious again, as he knew that his touch would cause a great deal of discomfort. 

 

While he lay there, Aragorn took the opportunity to look at the elf’s leg wound.  It was deep and angry, the flesh red and hot around the gash.  He rubbed his hands over his eyes.  Could this get any worse?

 

He sprang up and disappeared into the undergrowth for a moment, reappearing with a branch to whittle into a new staff for his friend and by the time Legolas stirred again, Aragorn had fashioned a crutch to support him as he walked.

 

Legolas sighed and pushed himself up into a sitting position, gingerly reaching for his ankle.

 

“Thank you Estel.”  He said quietly.

 

Aragorn gave a sad smile.  “You look a mess my friend.  If we walk into Rivendell with you looking like that, Elladan and Elrohir will never let you forget it.”

 

Legolas looked crestfallen.  The young human immediately felt guilty at his tactless remark.

 

“Please will you help.....tidy me up a bit?” Asked the elf.

 

Aragorn swallowed, his heart breaking, for he knew what it had cost the proud prince to  make such a request.  He did not want Legolas to feel pitied by anyone, so he grabbed the water bottle from his pack and, wetting the corner of his cloak, he carefully washed the elf’s face.  He gently picked the leaves from his hair and brushed away most of the dirt from his tunic.

 

“There,” he said,  “prissy elf.”

 

“Filthy human.” Retorted his friend sadly. 

 

Although it was stilted, a return to the usual bantering between the two friends did raise their spirits a little, and once again they resumed their travelling positions and set off on what they hoped would be the last stretch of their journey.  They were near enough to Aragorn’s home for him to suggest that they travel on into the night.  The paths were becoming more familiar and the man trusted that Legolas’ hearing would give them good warning of any more danger. 

 

Legolas had been through far too much in the last few days, and Aragorn kept casting worried glances at the him as he hobbled along, slightly behind, on his makeshift crutch.  His injuries were not life threatening, and, though the gash to his thigh looked nasty, Aragorn was confident that his father would be able to heal that quickly.  No, his greatest concern was for Legolas’ sight.  He had seen the heartbreaking look on his friend’s face when he had made his stupid remark about his appearance.  He mentally kicked himself for his insensitivity.  What if his father could not ‘fix’ this scrape?  He was afraid that this would be too great a loss for the elf. Couldn’t elves die of grief? Would Legolas be so depressed that he would lose the will to live?  Desperate thoughts constantly whirled through his mind as they made their slow but steady progress towards his home.

 

*****

 

Elladan was first awake that fine morning, and strolled through the courtyard of his home on his way to the kitchens to find an early breakfast, when he caught sight of his younger foster-brother and the Prince of Mirkwood staggering through the gates.

 

“Oh, this is priceless!”  He chuckled, “stay there and I will fetch Elrohir, he must see you two!  Father will kill you both, but I suppose at least you are still standing.....after a fashion!” He added, seeing Legolas leaning on his crutch.

 

“Wait.....please.” Cried Aragorn weakly, his voice rough and broken.  Elladan’s expression of amusement changed rapidly to alarm as he realised that something was very wrong.

 

He rushed over to the two friends and took Legolas by the arm to help him up the steps to the hall.  Legolas gave a start at the unexpected contact and Aragorn shook his head vehemently.

 

The brother’s eyes met and Elladan could see that the young human was barely in control of his emotions.  He looked at Legolas and froze at the blank stare in his eyes and the pale, withdrawn expression on his face.

 

“I’ll get Father.” He said quietly and ran immediately inside, calling for Lord Elrond.

 

*****

 

The elf Lord responded immediately to Elladan’s urgent summons.  He swept into the courtyard a look of concern furrowing his brow.  He could see that Aragorn was close to collapse and Legolas.....he was shocked to see how sick and ill kempt he looked.  What had happened to them in so short a while?

 

“Father.....” said Aragorn, “I’m sorry.....”  He could not pretend anymore that all would be well.  He looked in anguish towards his friend.  “He needs your help Ada, please.....”

 

Lord Elrond gently tilted Legolas’ chin with his fingers and looked into the prince’s eyes.

He noticed the elf jump at his touch and a coldness gripped him when he saw the emptiness in the blue depths. 

 

“What happened my friend?  What is wrong?”  He asked softly.

 

A tear trickled unchecked down the elf’s cheek.  “I.....I cannot see.  I am blind, my Lord.”

 

Elrond closed his eyes for a moment, marshalling his thoughts and feelings.  He would need all his powers of healing for the injured prince.  He tried to sound brisk and confident for the elf’s sake, but the look in his eyes was less guarded.  He was very worried.

 

“Well, we must get you to bed and examine you thoroughly.  You appear to have injured your leg also.”

 

“It.....It was a wolf, father.....and then Legolas fell and broke his ankle.....I had to set it.....”

 

Elrond looked at his human son and smiled encouragingly.

 

“You did very well to bring him home Estel.”

 

The words of comfort broke through Aragorn’s brittle defences and he choked back a sob.  He did not want Legolas to hear his distress and think it was pity.  Lord Elrond threw a glance at the young man, understanding his anxiety and motioned for him to remain in the hall for a moment while he led Legolas to his room. 

 

Aragorn gratefully sank onto a couch  and dropped his head into his hands. 

 

After fetching his father, Elladan had gone to rouse Elrohir and the next moment found the twins beside their foster-brother, one kneeling in front and one sitting on the couch next to him.

 

“What happened Estel?  What is wrong with Legolas?” Asked Elrohir. 

 

Elladan put his arm around the young human.  “He looked.....terrible.  His look.....” the elf could not describe the emptiness he had seen.

 

Aragorn threw back his head and clenched his jaw.  He did not seem to notice the trails of wet tears that covered his cheeks.  He sat for a moment, unwilling to say the words.  If he said them it would make it true.

 

The twins looked at each other, what could be so dreadful? 

 

Aragorn gave a heavy sigh.  “We were attacked by orcs.  Legolas was hit on the head with an axe.....he cannot see.” He whispered.

 

Elrohir swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.  “Father will help him, I am certain of it.”

 

“But what if he can’t?  What if Legolas never sees again?  It will kill him Elrohir!” Said Aragorn angrily. He did not have to be brave for Legolas anymore.  All the fears and terrors that had tormented him during their journey home flooded through his mind as if a dam had burst.

 

“You are an elf.  You know that light and beauty is like food for your soul.  We took an age to travel barely a hundred yards when we left here because Legolas needed to see every single, blessed, new blade of  grass and look at every new, green leaf.  He hates the dark.  It’s the only thing I have ever known him to be frightened of.   How can he live in it permanently?  I could see him die in front of me and I could do nothing.....I couldn’t stop it.....I.....”  He collapsed weeping in Elladan’s arms.

 

The two brothers were horrified at Aragorn’s revelation.  They could also see that he also needed to be taken care of and gently got him to his feet and led him to his own room.  There they made him take off his grubby outer clothes and lie on the bed.

 

Aragorn would not rest until he knew how Legolas was.  Elrohir promised that he would bring news, but first insisted on treating the wolf bite to the young man’s arm while Elladan called for a servant to bring food and drink, then he went in search of his father.

 

He found him sitting beside the Mirkwood elf’s bedside, deep in thought and prayerful concentration.  He knew better than to disturb him, he had seen his father at work many times, so he quietly stood at the foot of the bed and gazed down at Legolas.  The exhaustion and stress of the last twenty-four hours or so had finally defeated the prince and he had fallen into a feverish sleep.

 

Lord Elrond had replaced Legolas’ temporary splint with a better one and bandaged his ankle firmly.  He had also cleaned and dressed the gash to his leg.  His wounded head had been thoroughly bathed and was now left exposed to enable the elf Lord to focus his healing skills upon the injury.  The smell of fragrant herbs and scented oils filled the room, all chosen to aid recovery and ease the mind.

 

In spite of all these tender ministrations, Legolas still looked dreadful.  His skin was pale and fragile, dark shadows surrounded his eyes and brushed the hollows of his cheeks.  He whimpered and stirred restlessly with nightmarish dreams.

 

Lord Elrond sat back in his chair and sighed heavily.  Elrohir came and put his hand comfortingly on his father’s shoulder.

 

“How does he fare?” He asked anxiously.

 

“I do not know.  His leg injuries will heal quickly, they are not serious.  But this?.....” he gestured to the angry head wound, “it is defeating me.” He said, his voice catching in his throat.

 

“What will become of him?” Asked Elrohir in a small voice.

 

His father shook his head, unable to answer.

 

*****

 

By the time Elrohir returned to Aragorn, exhaustion had claimed the young man and he had fallen into a light sleep.  Elladan rose from his vigil by his foster-brother’s bedside and came to join his twin at the door to the room.

 

“What news of Legolas?” He whispered.

 

Elrohir glanced questioningly at Aragorn.  The fact that he did not want their younger brother to overhear his tidings chilled Elladan.

 

“He sleeps, but not deeply.  I will come outside” he said, quietly closing the door behind them both.

 

Elrohir leant his head back against the wall.  He spoke softly so that his voice would not carry, “ I have never seen father so much at a loss.  He has tried everything but nothing seems to have worked.  We can only hope that when our friend wakes, there will be some improvement in his sight, something to give us hope and encouragement, but Ada does not feel there will be.” 

 

He sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes.  “I keep thinking of what Estel said, and he was right.  If Legolas does not regain his vision, it will kill him.”

 

“It cannot come to that, Ro!” Said Elladan in a fierce whisper.

 

“Can it not?  Legolas ‘does’ need light and beauty to live.  How could he exist without seeing the moon and stars?  Without seeing the morning sun rising above the treetops?  Think about it, Ell.  He is an archer, a warrior.  It is his life and has been so for hundreds of years.  How could he survive being dependent on others for every detail of his existence?  Could you?”

 

“No.  I could not.” Said Elladan, bowing his head.  He looked at his brother and saw the tiredness in his eyes.

 

“You sit with Estel for a while.  I will go to father.  I will return if there is anything to report, for better or worse.”

 

“Thank you,” said Elrohir gratefully, and slipped into Aragorn’s room quietly.

 

*****

 

Aragorn woke with a start some hours later to find Elrohir dozing at his bedside.  He sleepily pushed himself up on his elbows shaking his head.  His movement roused his older brother.

 

“How long have I been asleep, Ro?”

 

“For most of the day, it is late afternoon.”

 

Suddenly the young man remembered the events of the past few days.

 

“Legolas!  Where is he?”  He said, hastily getting out of bed.

 

“Be calm, father is with him.  I said I would fetch you as soon as you awoke.”

 

“Is he?.....Did father?.....”  Aragorn said anxiously, straightening his clothes and running his fingers through his hair.

 

“There is no news yet, Estel.  Legolas is still unconscious.  Are you ready?” Aragorn nodded, “then I will take you to him.”

 

Legolas had been given a room and balcony situated on the western side of the house and like all the rooms in Rivendell it had large openings in the walls that let in light and air.  The late afternoon sun filtered in through the branches of the trees, still largely bare in the early spring, and dappled warm light and the fragrant scent of sweet oils and aromatic infusions filled the chamber.

 

Legolas lay unmoving in the large bed with Lord Elrond still sitting in the chair by his side where Elrohir had left him hours before.  Elladan was sitting on the windowsill, staring out at the valley.

 

When Aragorn and Elrohir entered the room, Lord Elrond stood up and eased his stiff shoulders.  Aragorn came to stand by the foot of the bed, looking down at his friend, while Elrohir joined his brother.

 

“Is there any news, Ada?” He asked his father, who had come to place a comforting arm across his shoulders.

 

“Legolas has not regained consciousness yet, but his fever has gone and he sleeps easily.  I am hopeful that he will wake soon, we must just wait and be patient.”

 

“Were you able to.....help him?”  Aragorn could not find the words he wanted to ask.

 

Lord Elrond sighed.  “I do not know, Estel.” 

 

Aragorn could hear the frustration in the elf’s voice.  He put an arm around his waist and gave him a gentle hug.

 

“ You are tired, Ada.  I know you have done all that you can.  Thank you.”  He said in a quiet voice.

 

The gesture and words of comfort  brought tears to Elrond’s eyes.  He did not feel that he had done nearly enough for the prince, and that he had failed him miserably.  He did not hold out much hope for his recovery, and was at a loss as to what else he could do.

 

Just then, a movement from the bed and a soft moan caught their attention.

 

Lord Elrond sat on the bed beside his patient.  “Legolas?  How do you feel?”

 

Legolas licked his dry lips, “thirsty.” 

 

Aragorn grabbed a pitcher of water and poured some into a cup.  He handed it to his father who put his arm under Legolas to help him sit up a little and helped him to drink.

 

“Thank you,” whispered the Prince and lay back down again.  He still kept his eyes closed tightly.  “How long?” He asked after a pause.

 

“You have been asleep for most of the day my friend, if that is what you wanted to know,” answered Aragorn. “Father has been tending to you, do you feel any better?”  He added nervously.  He desperately wanted Legolas to open his eyes, to see if there was any improvement in his sight. 

 

“A little.  My head still hurts a bit, but it is easing.  Thank you for taking care of me my Lord.  I am sorry to have returned once again in such a sorry state.”  His eyes remained shut.

 

“It is of no consequence Legolas.  You know that you do not need to apologise.” Said Elrond, placing a hand on the young elf’s brow.  “I am glad that your fever has gone, the gash to your leg was infected, but it is clear now.”

 

“Well if Legolas will play with wolves, what does he expect?” Said Elladan from the window, coming over to join his father in sitting on the bed.

 

“Elrohir?” Said Legolas, screwing up his still-closed eyes.

 

“No, Elladan.  I’m here over by the window.” Said the other twin.

 

The elf Lord looked down at his charge.  He could see fear etched in the pale features.

 

“Come now, all of you.  Legolas is back with us and we are all grateful.  However, he still needs much rest.  Leave him be for a little while, and I will tell you when you can see him again.” He said, rising and bustling the three brothers out of the door.

 

“But Father!.....”

 

“Can’t we just.....”

 

“But I....”

 

“Please, leave us.” He added softly, throwing a glance at the figure on the bed and shaking his head urgently.

 

The two elves and the young human nodded as they realised that their father wanted to give their friend some privacy for a moment, and quietly left the room.

 

Lord Elrond went and sat beside Legolas once more.

 

“Have they gone?” Asked the prince.

 

“Yes.” Said the older elf with a heavy sigh. 

 

Legolas reached out along the bedcovers with a groping hand, seeking Lord Elrond’s.  He took it and held it tightly and the two elves sat like that for a moment, listening to the sounds of bird song and waterfalls drifting in through the window.

 

Legolas swallowed.  “I am frightened.” He said bluntly.

 

“I know Legolas,”  Said the elf Lord.  “But remember, you do not face this fear alone. You are much loved, and we will all help you in whatever way we can.”

 

Legolas took a deep breath.  “I do not wish to open my eyes, my Lord.  What if it is dark?”

 

“Then it is dark, but I promise I will not rest until I have found an answer for you.” 

 

Legolas nodded and, still keeping his eyes closed, he pushed himself up and Lord Elrond pulled the pillows behind him.  He steeled himself, breathing heavily, his head lowered to his chest.  He raised his head, and holding his breath, fluttered open his eyes.

 

The cry of utter despair that rang through the chamber cut Lord Elrond to the bone.  He grabbed the distraught elf and held him to his chest.  He soothed him, patting and stroking his back as he would a young elfling, rocking him gently as he wept.  Slowly his sobs grew quieter as he nestled in the elf Lord’s strong arms. 

 

Elrond gently eased Legolas back onto the pillows. He fetched him another cup of water, placing it carefully into his hands, which Legolas drank gratefully.  The prince’s face was tracked with tears and Elrond dampened a cloth and tenderly wiped the marks away.  

 

Legolas stared out through eyes as blue as the evening sky outside the bedroom window but could see nothing at all.  All was dark to him, all was black.  He heard the sounds of Lord Elrond moving about the room, putting away the water pitcher, lighting the candles and lamps as the night closed in.  He brought a hand up to his eyes, searching, as if hoping for some miracle.  His hand fell heavily to his lap and his throat tightened.  He clenched his jaw, fighting the tears.  He would not cry again.

 

“I am sorry for my behaviour, Lord Elrond.”  Legolas said ashamedly.  He heard the rustle of the older elf’s robes as he approached the bed and felt the mattress dip as he sat beside him.

 

“You have done nothing to be ashamed of Legolas.  This has been a terrible shock to you, but do not lose hope.....”

 

“Is there hope?” Interrupted the prince sorrowfully, shaking his head, “I cannot see any.....” He paused, laughing bitterly, “that is a good joke, I cannot *see* anything.”

 

“I will not lie to you my friend.  I do not know what else I can do for you just now, but I hold to my promise, I will not let you fall.  That is where your hope must be.”

 

Legolas closed his eyes and sighed.

 

“It is strange, I feel better somehow when my eyes are shut.  I suppose I can pretend that everything is all right.”

 

Elrond took the young elf’s hand in his.

 

“Estel and the twins will want to see you again.  Do you want them to come just yet?”  The elf Lord knew that Legolas needed more time to compose himself, to think.

 

“Please will you tell them I am asleep?  I want them to come again, soon, but I.....I am not yet ready.” He said forlornly.

 

“ Of course, and then I shall return and stay with you for as long as you wish it.”

 

“I would like that, thank you.  I am.....I am afraid of being alone at the moment, and not knowing that I am.  Does that make sense?”

 

Lord Elrond’s eyes filled with tears.  “It makes perfect sense Legolas.” He said as evenly as possible.  “I will go for a moment to speak with your friends and then I will return.”

 

“Please tell them.....tell them everything, Lord Elrond.” He said in a whisper.

 

The older elf rested a hand gently on Legolas’ head.  “Sleep now.  I will be back shortly.” He said softly, and left the room.

 

*****

 

Aragorn and the twins were waiting outside in the hall.  They had heard Legolas’ desperate cry in horror.  They knew at that moment that the prince was still blind.  Elladan slid down the wall and sat on the ground bewildered.  With a cry of anguish Aragorn punched the wall in frustration, grazing his knuckles, while Elrohir reached out to his younger brother and gripped his shoulders tightly.  No one spoke.

 

When the door opened and their father appeared, all three sons moved and clustered round him, wanting yet not wanting to hear the news he had to share.

 

Lord Elrond needed only one glance to see that they knew all that had taken place in Legolas’ room, and he gathered them together in his arms.  They stood like that, drawing strength from each other, for several moments.  Then the elf Lord pulled away and gently ushered them along the passage to the large hall nearby, where they sat dejectedly by the fireside.

 

“How is he, Father?” Said Aragorn in a small voice.

 

Elrond sighed heavily.  “He needs time to adjust to this situation, Estel, and we must do all that we can to help him.  It will be very difficult for him, as he will have to rely on others for all his needs.”

 

“He will hate it.” Said Elladan simply.

 

“What can we do Father?” Asked his twin.

 

“Be his friends, treat him no differently.  Let him tell you if he needs help, and be patient.”

 

“Is there truly nothing more you can do for him?” Asked Aragorn.

 

“At the moment, no, but I promised Legolas that I would not rest until I had found an answer, and I hold fast to that vow.  There is still hope.  There is always hope,” Lord Elrond said, his voice husky and betraying the depth of his feeling,  “I promised that I would return to sit with him.” He said, getting up to leave.

 

“Can I come with you?” Pleaded Aragorn, also rising to his feet.

 

“No, Estel, not yet, but I promise you that it will be soon.  Wait, and I will send for you.”

 

Elrond left the room and Aragorn sat down again dejectedly.  He felt terribly responsible for  Legolas’ injury.  If only he hadn’t suggested taking the route they had.  He should have protected his friend.  For goodness sake there was only one orc left when they were fighting, he should have been quicker to kill it before it hurt Legolas.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have moved the injured elf?  Perhaps he made things worse?  And then the burden of bringing him back to Rivendell.  Aragorn laughed bitterly to himself, he couldn’t even manage that properly.  As if Legolas’ head injury wasn’t bad enough, he had suffered a potentially serious leg wound and a severely broken ankle, once again because he, Aragorn, supposed ‘Heir to Isildur’ and ‘Leader of Men’ wasn’t even there to look after his best friend.  His blind best friend.

 

He suddenly gave a strangled cry of frustration and anger with himself and got up, pacing around the large chamber.

 

“What was I thinking of?  Am I cursed?  It’s not a joke anymore, is it?  Once again I have returned from a journey with Legolas badly injured, and this time it isn’t going to be all right is it?”  Aragorn rubbed a hand over his eyes to suppress his tears.

 

“Do not go this way little brother.  It is not your fault.” Said Elrohir, going up to Aragorn and holding him tightly in his arms.

 

“’Ro is right, Estel.  Legolas is a warrior, a Prince of Mirkwood, hundreds of years old.  He is more than capable of looking after himself.  You were just unlucky.” Added Elladan.

 

Aragorn would not be comforted, “Legolas ‘was’ a warrior.  He ‘was’ capable of looking after himself.  Now he cannot do either of those things because he came with me on a stupid, unnecessary excursion.” He said despairingly.

 

“Come, do not give up hope yet.  It is a long while till dawn, and maybe Father will find an answer.  The best thing we can do is wait and pray.” Said Elrohir, still embracing Aragorn.  He led him over to a couch and the three brothers sat down together.

 

They sat there in front of the fire for the rest of that night.  None could sleep.  All they could think about was the prince lying in his chamber nearby.  They each feared secretly in their heart that the dawn would bring no peace or healing for him.  He would not see it.  How would he survive living in perpetual night, with not even the stars to guide and comfort him?

 

*****

 

Legolas woke several times in the night, each time calling for Lord Elrond like an elfling with a nightmare.  Each time the older elf listened to his cries and reassured prince that he was not alone.

 

Daybreak found the elf Lord extinguishing the candles and lamps and throwing open the heavy drapes to let in the pale morning light.  It looked to be another beautiful spring day, and throwing a glance at the sleeping elf in the bed he sighed sorrowfully.  Today he would send word to the prince’s father, King Thranduil, informing him of his son’s condition.  It would not be an easy task.

 

Lord Elrond’s quiet movements around the chamber disturbed the younger elf and he sat up with a start.

 

“Who is there?” He said, his head turning to follow the sounds in the room.

 

“It is Elrond, Legolas.  I am sorry, I did not mean to wake you.” He replied.

 

Legolas recognised the feeling of the elf Lord coming to sit on his bed. 

 

“Is it morning?”

 

“Yes, my friend.  Are you hungry?  Shall I send for some bread and fruit for you to break your fast?”

 

“Yes, please that would be welcome.....” Legolas paused for a moment and swallowed. 

 

“Would you ask Estel to bring them?  I would like to see.....” He broke off with a shake of his head, “I would like to talk with him.”

 

“Of course, I will go straight away.” Said Lord Elrond, and Legolas felt the mattress shift as he got up and heard the door to the chamber open and close as the elf Lord left the room.

 

Legolas sat listening to the sounds around him.  He could hear Lord Elrond as he walked away down the passageway outside.  He heard the distant noises of murmured voices - was it the elf Lord giving instructions to servants in the kitchen?  He could hear the sounds from outside, sounds of early morning.  Birds singing, the breeze through the branches, someone chopping wood, and further away the sound of waterfalls and streams flowing through the valley. 

 

He could smell the newness of the spring, the fresh baking bread in the ovens and the earthy smell of the horses in the stables far away below his window.

 

Legolas felt with his fingers down the length of his injured leg.  The gash to his thigh felt tender but bearable and he could tell it had been dressed expertly by Lord Elrond.  His ankle was bound tightly, the break set in place firmly with a splint and bandage.  He gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He did not want to be found sitting in bed, weak, vulnerable, but he also did not want to ask for help.  If he could somehow manage to find a chair or couch by himself he thought he would not feel so wretched.

 

He winced as he tried to stand on the damaged leg.  His ankle gave him more pain than he thought it would.  He leant heavily on the bed and half slid, half hopped along its length towards the bottom.  He reached out from this position searching with his hands for a chair, a table, anything that he could use to haul himself upright.  His fingers touched a heavy chest at the foot of the bed, and he used this to lever himself up into a standing position.  He managed to move himself around the edge of the piece of furniture, reaching out again for anything else that could aid his progress.  His hand brushed against something soft and velvety.....the back of a chair perhaps?  He gripped it, testing its stability, and pulled himself around the side of what was a low couch.  He sank gratefully onto it, resting his sore leg along its length.

 

The whole manoeuvre had taken at least half an hour and had left Legolas exhausted.

 

Just then, he heard footsteps approach and the door to his room open.  He could tell that two people entered, and guessed that it must be Lord Elrond returning with Aragorn.

 

“Legolas!” Exclaimed Lord Elrond, “I did not expect to see you out of bed so soon.  You should have called for assistance.”

 

“I did not wish to.” Replied Legolas defensively.  In truth he was more than a little drained from his exertions, but would not admit it.

 

“I have brought Estel with me as you asked.” The elf Lord said, seeing the tired look on the prince’s face, and choosing to ignore it.  He could tell the effort it had taken Legolas to get to the couch by himself, and knew that he needed to prove his independence.  He pulled a low table across to the seat, and Aragorn placed on it a large tray of bread and fruit and a jug of fresh milk.

 

“I have brought breakfast, Legolas.  I thought we could share it together.” Said the young man hopefully.

 

Legolas nodded, and gestured for Aragorn to sit down.  Lord Elrond stood by the window, his arms folded across his chest, watching the two friends.  They sat awkwardly for a moment, neither knowing quite what to do.  Then Aragorn swallowed nervously and breaking off some bread, placed it gently in his friend’s hand.  Legolas took it with another small nod of gratitude and began to eat.

 

“Would you like some milk?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

Aragorn poured some into a cup and placing it on the table, took his friend’s hand and guided him to its position.  “Here it is, you can reach it easily.”

 

“Thank you, Estel” 

 

“I will cut some fruit for you.”  Aragorn sliced an apple and placed it on a platter next to the cup of milk. 

 

“It is just here.” He said, moving the prince’s hand across from the cup.

 

Legolas sighed, frowning.

 

Again silence fell.

 

Lord Elrond cleared his throat, attracting Legolas’ attention.

 

“I will be sending a message to Mirkwood today, to your father.  He must be told of your injury my friend.” He said gently.  “Is there anything that you would like to say in the letter?”

 

A shadow flew across Legolas’ face.  “My Father?”

 

He suddenly remembered how he had left his home on an impulse without bidding his father farewell, avoiding the King’s irritable mood.  He ached for the pain he knew this message would cause.

 

“Tell him.....I.....I am sorry.”  He whispered.

 

Trying to compose himself , Legolas leant forward reaching for the cup on the table but misjudged the distance.  His hand caught its edge and knocked it over, spilling milk everywhere.  He gave a groan of frustration.

 

“Do not worry, I have it!” Said Aragorn, quickly setting the cup straight and mopping up the liquid.

 

His friend pushed back into the couch with a cry, clenching his fists in anger.

 

“Please leave me.  Now.  Both of you.”

 

“But Legolas, it’s all right.....”

 

“Please, just go.”  Said the young elf, close to tears.

 

Aragorn looked pleadingly at his father, who shook his head and motioned for him to clear away the meal.  Lord Elrond could see that Legolas was at breaking point but that he was too proud to have anyone witness his despair.

 

“I will not be far away Legolas, just call if you need anything.” He said gently, and ushered his young foster son out before him leaving the prince alone once more.

 

When Legolas heard their footsteps disappear away down the corridor, he could contain his feelings no longer and, curling himself into a tight ball, wept bitterly.  In his mind he knew that in time he would adjust to his blindness, that things would get better and that he would become more independent.  But his heart was breaking now.  Thoughts of his father and home had been forgotten entirely until Lord Elrond had mentioned sending word to the King, his words reminding Legolas of all the things he would not see, or be able to do, ever again.

 

He would not see his father’s wry, amused smile when he returned from yet another unexpected adventure with Estel, indeed there could be no more adventures.  He would not see the patterns the great fire made on the walls of the palace’s central hall.  He would not see his beloved forest, in all its changing seasons.  He would never hunt again, for even if he rode out with his companions, he would be a liability.  He would never see the stars above his head at night, guiding him by their presence.  For although Lord Elrond had vowed to find the cure for his blindness, he knew in his heart that it was hopeless.  He would never see again.

 

Legolas cried until he was empty and drained of tears and fell into an exhausted sleep.

 

On leaving Legolas’ room, Lord Elrond had taken Aragorn into his study.  The young man was hurt and saddened by his friend’s rejection, though he understood the reasons why the prince had asked them both to leave.  He too had seen the look of despair on his friend’s face, and knew that he hated being seen as clumsy and helpless.

 

Lord Elrond went and sat at his writing desk to compose the message to send to Thranduil about his son.  It was not a task he was looking forward to for he knew how distressed he would be at receiving such news about any of his children.  Aragorn threw himself down into an armchair by his side, rubbing his eyes with his hand.  His father could see his frustration.

 

“Give him time, Estel.” He said sympathetically.

 

“I think time will make no difference, Father,” said Aragorn despondently, “if anything I fear he will get worse.  This is destroying him, and there is nothing we can do to stop it.”

 

Elrond sighed heavily.  He was afraid that Aragorn was right.

 

*****

 

Later that morning, when Lord Elrond felt that he had allowed Legolas a reasonable length of time to recover after the distressing breakfast, he returned to the prince’s chambers taking with him the letter he had written to King Thranduil before sending it to Mirkwood with a messenger.

 

Legolas still lay on the couch curled in on himself, though he had woken up and was obviously listening to the sounds around him, deep in thought.  Lord Elrond frowned at the expression of loss and bewilderment on the young elf’s face.  How could he begin to understand what had happened to him?

 

Legolas sat up on hearing the older elf enter, rubbing at his eyes with his hands and straightening his tunic.

 

“Lord Elrond?” He said tentatively.

 

“Yes, Legolas!  How did you know?”

 

“I recognised the smell of the medicinal herbs and oils that you have been using to help me.  The perfume clings to your clothes.”  He said with a small pride.

 

“And I think I know Elrohir too, he smells of fresh hay and horses, he spends so much time in the stables.”

 

Lord Elrond laughed.  “Yes, you are right.  And what of Estel and Elladan?”

 

“I am not sure yet, I think I will need them to visit again.”  He paused, and then added, “ My Lord,  I am sorry for my outburst this morning, I was wrong to give in to despair.  Will Estel forgive me?  I did not mean to hurt him.”

 

“Of course he will.   He loves you as a brother, Legolas, and only wishes to help.  Come, I will read to you the message I am sending your father.  Tell me if there is anything you wish me to change or add.”

 

Lord Elrond read aloud what he had written, which understandably upset Legolas again, as he thought of how his father would receive the news, and he added a personal message of reassurance at the end.  He did not want to worry his father unduly, in spite of his own fears.

 

When they were both satisfied with the contents, Lord Elrond called for a messenger to make the journey to Mirkwood and deliver the letter to the King.

 

“It will take a few days to reach my Father, maybe longer if there is any late snow on the mountain pass,” said Legolas sounding hopeful, “ and if he sends a reply asking me to return home, that will take a while to get here.  ”

 

“You sound reluctant to leave.  Do you not wish to go home?”

 

“I dread it.” Replied Legolas candidly.  “To be in Mirkwood amongst people and things that I know but cannot see, to be beholden to everyone for all that I do.....” He shook his head and sighed.

 

Lord Elrond took the prince’s hand sympathetically.  “I have not yet found a way to cure your blindness Legolas, but I can help you regain your confidence and independence.  I have an idea how to do this, we will start in a small way.  You must learn where everything is within these chambers, where the furniture is, the wardrobe, cupboards, what is in them and what sits on them.  When I bring your food and drink, I will place it in the exact same position each time, on the same table.  You have already begun to use your other senses well.  You could identify me when I entered your room using your sense of smell, and Estel told me how you managed to journey towards Rivendell remarkable well using your hearing.  You will make mistakes, but you will learn by them.  I have faith you can do this Legolas. Please will you try?”

 

“I must.” Said Legolas bluntly, and then moved his head apologetically towards the older elf.

“I am sorry my Lord, I did not mean to sound ungrateful.”

 

“There is no need for another apology Legolas.  You are beginning to sound like Estel, always believing he is somehow in the wrong.” Said Elrond with a chuckle.  He was glad to see that his young charge responded with a smile.  It gave him hope that Legolas’ spirit was not yet lost.  The more that he felt ‘himself’ again, the more reason he would have for living.

 

Lord Elrond set to work immediately, guiding Legolas around the room on his crutch, counting steps between obstacles and describing the furniture.  Legolas used his hands to feel the things in his chambers, to differentiate the clothes in his wardrobe so that he could dress himself easily.  When a servant brought in food and drink at midday, Legolas decided where he wanted it to be set so that he could eat and drink without knocking things over misplacing them.  That evening Legolas prepared himself for bed with only a little help and that was due to his injured leg and not his lack of sight.

He went to sleep for the first time with a glimmer of hope in his heart.

 

*****

 

A few days later, Legolas sat on a low bench on the balcony to his room.  The wound on his leg where the wolf had clawed at him was almost completely healed, and the injury to his ankle was well on the mend.  He could move about easily now with the help of a crutch, and it would not be long before he could cast that aside.  He was listening to the soft spring rain falling, and taking comfort in its sweet, fresh smell. 

 

Until now he had not left his chambers, wanting to be alone for most of the time.  He had only spoken with Lord Elrond, who had visited frequently, helping him regain his independence, but today he had asked for Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir to visit and he sat in nervous anticipation.  He had practised moving blindly about the room, learning where, and how far apart things were.  Lord Elrond had put his food and drink in the same place each time, and Legolas had only knocked something over on two occasions, and not at all recently.  He felt confident that he would not do anything that would make his friends feel sorry for him, for he could not bear to hear pity in their voices.

 

He heard the door to the chamber open and he stood to greet his friends as he heard their footsteps approach.  Before visiting Legolas, the three brothers had agreed to be as normal as possible, ignoring any attempts their friend might make to reject them.  They intended to behave exactly as they would do if he could see.

 

“Legolas, it is good to see you again, we have missed you.” Said Elrohir, rushing forward and giving the prince a warm hug.  Legolas flinched slightly at his words, as he himself could not *see* anyone, but appreciated the display of affection.

 

“We have brought some wine to celebrate your recovery from your leg injury.  Come, we set it on the table in your room.” Said Elladan. 

 

“I’m glad you are able to walk about more, as soon as the rain clears we thought we could walk together in the gardens.  You have been stuck in this room for far too long my friend.” Said Aragorn. 

 

Legolas began to object, but he was led off the balcony and over to the couch by Elladan and a goblet of wine was placed in his hands.

 

“Welcome back Legolas.” Said Elrohir raising his goblet, though he knew the Prince would not see the gesture.  There was a silent pause.  The brothers looked at each other and Elrohir nodded at Aragorn, urging him to speak.

 

“It is a pity that you were not with us yesterday Legolas,” said Aragorn conspiratorially, “you missed Elrohir falling flat on his face in the mud when he was treating a horse that had something trapped under its hoof.  It decided it definitely did *not* like what Elrohir was doing and kicked him!”

 

“It was a bad-tempered, ungrateful creature!  It took ages to get rid of the dirt, it oozed everywhere!”  Protested Elrohir.  “At least I was attempting to do something ‘useful’.  You were just messing around with Elladan the other day when you ran into Glorfindel and sent him flying, knocking the manuscripts he was bringing to Father all over the courtyard.  I have never seen him in such a rage.”

 

The three brothers continued their friendly banter, watching Legolas all the time, hoping to put him at his ease.  They gossiped idly about things that had happened during the previous few days, about people and things that the prince knew; horses, hunting, news from outside the valley, trying to include him in their conversation and give him a sense of normality.

 

Legolas remained quiet during this time, just listening and slightly smiling at a particularly amusing tale, when everyone ran out of things to say suddenly, as often happens when conversation is a little forced.  There was another uncomfortable silence. 

 

The prince bowed his head, frowning.  He gave a sigh and raised his head again, ‘looking’ at his friends.

 

“Thank you, all of you.  I know what you are trying to do for me.....” He lowered his head again, his voice breaking a little.

 

“We want you back with us, Legolas, and we will find a way to make it so.” Said Aragorn softly, gently taking hold of his hand.

 

Elrohir could see that their friend was close to losing his control, and got up and said briskly; “I think the rain has eased at last, come on, let’s go into the gardens.”

 

Legolas smiled gratefully at the younger twin for the distraction, stood and carefully walked across to where he knew his cloak hung in a wardrobe in the corner of the room.  He took it out and threw it across his shoulders and turned and smiled.

 

“There, I am ready, why are you not so?  I thought you were more eager than I?”

 

Aragorn got up laughing and went to stand beside his friend.  “We all are.  I will walk with you my friend.....and guide you, if you wish it?” He added cautiously.  He did not want to embarrass Legolas.

 

“I do wish it, Estel.  I could not go far without your help I am afraid.” The prince said regretfully, “but I fear I will never grow accustomed to it, from anyone.” He muttered.

 

The three elves and one young human spent the rest of the day wandering the valley of Rivendell, never far from the house, and always watching to see that Legolas did not over exert himself.  By the evening, the prince at first glance gave the appearance of being his old self, but any closer inspection revealed the deep sadness beneath.

 

For the first time since his accident, Legolas joined the others for supper.  He knew that he risked making a fool of himself if he spilt anything or knocked things over, but he felt he owed it to his friends to try.  After all, they had taken care of him all day and knew his frustrations and limitations.  He had arranged with Lord Elrond to have his place set the way he was used to in his rooms, and as a result made no mistakes at all.

 

Sitting there and listening to the friendly, affectionate banter made Legolas feel part of the family again, and brought him some comfort.  He had told Lord Elrond the truth when he said he dreaded returning home, but that was only part of it.  It was not just the fear of being amongst unseen familiar things, but also a feeling that, if he left Imladris and Lord Elrond’s care, it meant that there was nothing more that could be done and his condition was permanent.  He was not ready to accept that.

 

*****

 

Each morning Legolas would spend in Lord Elrond’s study as the healer read through old manuscripts searching for a way to bring back his sight.  He had drunk potions and infusions, recited ancient words and been anointed with various oils, but nothing had made a difference.  He really only continued to follow advice at these times to please the elf Lord as he knew how much he was trying to help. 

 

The afternoons he spent with Aragorn and the twins.  He now could find his way around most of the house and immediate gardens by himself, and with his friends they had ventured further afield.  Legolas gave everyone the impression that he was coping well and gaining confidence daily as he did not want to cause any more worry , but he knew in his heart that he was fading. 

 

Each day it was more and more difficult to rise from his bed.  Each mealtime he ate and drank less.  Each step he took was more wearisome than the last, and in bed at night he dreaded waking again in the morning to the dark.  His spirit was like a plant starved of light, weak and pale, slowly dying.

 

***** 

 

Some four weeks after word had been sent to Thranduil of his son’s condition outriders arrived in Rivendell, to alert the inhabitants that the King himself was on his way.  The visit was not unexpected by Lord Elrond.  He knew that he would have wanted to be with any of his children if the same thing had befallen them.  The household had just enough time to make ready to receive the royal party when the King and his entourage swept through the gates to the courtyard.

 

Lord Elrond was already at the great doors of his house ready to greet Legolas’ father.  King Thranduil dismounted swiftly and strode towards him without ceremony.

 

“I bid you welcome my Lord, though I regret the circumstances.” Said Elrond, immediately ushering the King into his home.

 

“Where is my son?” Asked Thranduil bluntly, not wasting time with pleasantries.  He was desperate to see Legolas.  When he had received Lord Elrond’s message he had sat, stunned and unable to speak until one of his advisors came and took the letter from his trembling hand, read it for himself  and then asked the King what he wished to do.

 

“Make ready to ride to Imladris!” He had replied in a hoarse whisper, and had travelled night and day without stopping except to rest the horses.

 

Lord Elrond led the fierce looking elf into the great hall, and gestured to a low, elegant bench beside the hearth.

 

“Prince Legolas is with my sons in the gardens, if you would wait here, I will let him know that you have arrived at once, your Majesty.”  Lord Elrond called for a servant to go and fetch him.

 

King Thranduil could not sit patiently, instead he paced around the hall like a caged wildcat.  The initial shock of his son’s blindness had been first replaced with anger.  Anger towards Aragorn for somehow letting it happen, anger towards Lord Elrond for being unable to heal his son, and, above all, anger towards Legolas for leaving Mirkwood on a whim, without bidding him goodbye.  During the hasty journey to Rivendell his anger had subsided and in its place was now a cold fear, which gripped his soul.  King Thranduil was not used to this terror of the unknown.  Battles, wars, orcs, Mirkwood spiders, these things he could understand and fight, but his beloved Greenleaf, unable to see, to fend for himself?  This was a horror he had no experience of.

 

“You said in your letter that there was still hope for my son.  Is this true?”  Said the King pausing briefly in front of Lord Elrond,  “and do not seek to comfort me with platitudes, speak plainly.” He added quietly.

 

“ I will not give you false hope, Thranduil, I must confess that I have tried everything I know and Legolas’ future is bleak.  However, I promised him I would not stop searching for a cure, and I will keep my vow.”  Said Lord Elrond.

 

The King sat down heavily on the bench, his arms braced on his knees, his head bowed.

“Then it is as I feared.”  Suddenly he looked smaller, lost and defeated.

 

“Do not be afraid for your son.  He has shown remarkable courage and is regaining his independence daily.”  The healer said.

 

Thranduil nodded, “I know that he faces this bravely for I would expect no less of him.  He is my son.  But what of his spirit?  His need for light and beauty?  How will he survive, cut off from that which gives him sustenance?”

 

The King looked up, searching Elrond’s face for an answer but Elrond could say nothing to give Thranduil comfort and the King sighed heavily, bowing his head once more.

 

*****

 

Legolas was indeed in the gardens with Aragorn and the twins.  He had heard the approach of the horses long before anyone else.

 

“You have visitors, a fair number and they come in haste.”  He had told his friends.

 

“We are not expecting anyone, who could it be?” Asked Elladan.

 

“Stay here, and I will go and find out.” Volunteered Elrohir.

 

Legolas suddenly stiffened beside Aragorn.  His acute hearing had recognised King Thranduil’s voice.

 

“What is it Legolas, is something wrong? Are you in pain?” Asked Aragorn in concern.  He had noticed the prince turn pale.

“It is my Father.” Replied Legolas weakly.  “He must have set out as soon as he received your Father’s letter.  Please, I need to sit down for a moment.” 

 

Aragorn led his friend to a nearby bench.  He read the confused play of emotions on Legolas’ face.  Hope, relief, fear, all flooded the prince’s mind at once.

 

“Do you not wish to see him?” Elrohir asked, placing a comforting hand on Legolas’ shoulder.

 

“If only I could!” Snapped the prince, immediately regretting his outburst, “ I am sorry Ro, I should not.....forgive me, I am sorry.” He reached up and gave the elf’s hand a squeeze.

 

“I just.....I don’t know how to face him.  I should never have left him the way that I did, it was foolish.” said Legolas frowning.  “ I am afraid that he will be angry with me.  I could not bear that.”

 

“He will not be angry, he has come here because he loves you Legolas, he is worried about you.” Said Elladan.  “ Come, let us go together and find him.” He said, pulling the prince to his feet.

 

Legolas nodded and allowed himself to be led into the house.  When they reached the doors of the great hall they could hear the voices of King Thranduil and Lord Elrond within.

 

Legolas turned to his friends; “Please, I can walk in by myself.  I know this chamber well enough now.  Let my Father see me do this.  I need to do it alone......but thank you for everything you are doing for me.”

 

The three brothers stepped back, touched by the hopeful pride in their friend’s voice.  They knew that he needed to be seen as strong by his father.  Without a word they left, albeit reluctantly, and returned to the garden where they would wait until Legolas asked for them.

 

Legolas took a deep breath and pushed open the large double doors to the hall and entered carefully.  He knew instantly where his father was sitting from his earthy, woodland smell and the comforting fragrance brought a prickle of tears to his eyes.  He suppressed the painful emotion and walked over to stand before the King.

 

“Welcome Father.” He said simply, not trusting himself to say anything else.  All he wanted to do was to throw himself into his father’s arms and beg him to make everything go away as he did when he had had nightmares as a little elfling. 

 

King Thranduil sat, stunned for a moment at the sight of his son making his careful, precise way across the chamber.  He saw instantly how much the Prince had suffered, and how low his spirits were.  He was thin and pale and his blank eyes revealed the emptiness of his soul.

 

Legolas stood nervously in front of his father.  Because he could not see his face and his father’s expression, he had no idea at all of what the King felt.  The continuing painful silence broke through his control and he began to tremble, his eyes filling with tears.

 

“Are you.....are you angry Father?” He whispered.

 

His words snapped Thranduil out of his shock and he leapt to his feet and drew his son into a fierce embrace.

 

“Oh my Greenleaf, of course I am not angry.....I am just.....I.....” Words failed him as he clung to Legolas.

 

Lord Elrond could see that the father and son needed their privacy.  He gave them a moment to stand together and then gently touched the prince on the arm.

 

“Legolas, would you like to take your father to my private chambers?  Are you sure of the way?” He asked.

 

“Thank you my Lord, that would be very kind.  I can manage by myself.”  He replied gratefully.

 

“Then I will leave you in peace. Send word if you need anything.”

 

Legolas nodded and automatically rested his hand on his father’s shoulder, ready to take him to the healer’s study.  Thranduil noticed the gesture and a grimace of pain flew across his face.  Every movement of his son’s served to reminded him of his predicament.  Together they walked carefully out of the hall and along passageways and terraces, winding their way slowly towards Elrond’s private quarters.

 

The King had to admit to himself that he was impressed with the way that Legolas seemed to manage the practical aspects of his blindness.  He could see the concentration on the young elf’s face as he counted his paces and occasionally reached out to reassure himself of where exactly he was.  Once in the comfortable, private study, Legolas turned to his father and gestured vaguely in the direction of the couch.

 

“There should be a seat just there Father, please sit down.”  He went over to a wall cabinet, reached in gingerly and pulled out two glasses and a flask of wine, which he placed on the side table beneath.  He felt for the rim of each glass and dipped the tip of one finger in the top, carefully pouring just enough wine until he could feel that the glass was full.  Then he turned and steadily brought the two glasses to the low table before his father.  He reached out, gently touching the King to establish where he was sitting, and sat down next to him.

 

Thranduil was overcome with a mixture of heart-rending pity and  fatherly pride in witnessing the effort that Legolas had just displayed.  He turned to look at his son’s profile, studying the way that his eyes were fixed firmly ahead and his head was tilted slightly, as he listened for every nuance of sound that would tell him what was going on around him.

 

“Thank you for the wine, Legolas.” He said, giving Legolas’ arm a gentle squeeze, letting him know by touch that he was grateful and understood the trouble that his son had taken.

 

“I have been learning many things here in Rivendell, Father.  Lord Elrond and his sons have all helped me tremendously.  I can do most things by myself now.”

 

“ Yes, I can see how well you are managing my son and I am proud of you, I.....” Thranduil’s voice broke, he could not continue. 

 

“Father, please.....”  Said Legolas, desperately reaching out his hand for his father.  The King took it and held it close to his chest. 

 

“ I am sorry my Greenleaf, I do not wish to distress you further but to see you like this.....it breaks my heart.  You are so pale and thin.  The light has gone from your face my child.  What of your spirit?  What injury is there?”

 

Legolas closed his eyes in pain.  He knew that he could not hide anything from his father.

 

“I fade.” He whispered, and the tears he had fought to suppress began to flow with the acknowledgement of his true feelings.  His father took him into his arms and soothed him as if he were a little child.

 

“I know, Legolas, I know.  Hush now, do not weep.  I am here.”  Thranduil gently rocked his son in his embrace and murmured words of love and comfort.  His father’s uncharacteristic affection unlocked all the secret fears and despairs that Legolas held deep within him and the younger elf sobbed quietly for some time. 

 

When he could tell that Legolas had regained his composure, Thranduil pulled back and passed him some wine.

 

“Drink this, Legolas, it will help a little.”

 

Legolas drank and carefully placed the glass back on the table where he knew he would find it again.

 

“ I am sorry for my weakness, Father.”  He said with a small smile.

 

“ You have shown no weakness, Legolas.  You have instead shown great courage.  I meant it when I said I was proud of you.”  The King took Legolas’ hand in his own.  “Will you return with me to Mirkwood and sit by my side?  I wish to take care of you my son.  Will you come home?”

 

Legolas pulled away and sighed heavily.  “I cannot, not just yet.  Please, Father, I hope you can understand.  If I leave here.....” He broke off, frowning and searching for the words to express his anxiety.

 

“If I leave here, it will be because Lord Elrond will never find a cure for my blindness and there is no more hope.  I cannot face that yet.  I know that I am fading, that somehow each day I grow less, but I can fight it while there is a faint chance that I might see again.  If I leave here.....then I fear it will be the end of me.  I cannot live in this darkness for much longer without the possibility that I will never see the stars or the morning sun again.  I ache to see my home, to see the woods and glades of Mirkwood, to see sunlight dappling through the leaves, the new ferns uncurling through the leaf mould, or silver moonlight glistening on the forest river. ”

 

Thranduil took Legolas’ sorrowful face in both hands.    “Never, never give up Greenleaf, there is always hope, and when you have none, then I will hope for you.  Remain here and when you are ready to return home I will be there waiting.”  He kissed his son gently on his forehead, and held him close. For one brief moment he was glad that Legolas could not see how his words had affected him, for he knew that if Legolas returned home without his sight, he would return to Mirkwood to die.

 

Thranduil spoke no more, unwilling to speak lest he reveal his fear to his son while Legolas once more rested in his arms.   When the King felt he could say something without Legolas noticing his pain, he straightened his shoulders saying, “ Perhaps we should go outside for some air and take a walk in the gardens.  I have heard that they are second to none, are you able to show them to me?”

 

“Yes, I can.  I would like to do that, father.  Maybe we can find Estel.  He and Elladan and Elrohir have scarcely left my side these past few weeks.  They have been a great help in keeping my spirits up.” 

 

He stood and offered his arm to his father and together they walked onto Lord Elrond’s private balcony and from there down a broad staircase to the gardens below.

 

Thranduil spent very little time looking at the grounds.  Instead he watched his son trying to appreciate the beautiful spring foliage and pale, warm sun with his remaining senses.  Legolas stopped to catch the scent of every flower, paused in every patch of dappled sunlight to feel its warmth and halted and listened to every bird's song.  The King could see that it was not enough to sustain Legolas, it was like putting a banquet just out of reach in front of a starving man.  It hurt more than the King could bear to see him like this, but he knew that he could not let his son know of his pity.

 

As they neared the herb garden they heard voices.  Legolas led his father towards the murmured conversation as he recognised Aragorn and the twins.

 

“Estel?” He called, his head searching for the precise direction of the sounds.  “It is Legolas, I have brought my father with me.”

 

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other anxiously, and Aragorn stiffened nervously.  They each had experienced the Mirkwood King’s mercurial and tempestuous nature and were wary of how he would be feeling concerning his son’s condition.

 

The two fair elves cornered the wall of the garden and the twins and Aragorn stood and bowed respectfully to the King.  Aragorn was stunned at the appearance of Legolas’ father.  As he was led into the garden, he held on to Legolas as if he were afraid that his son would break, his face clearly showing the signs of his distress and it was obvious by his expression that Legolas was unaware that his father was so upset.

 

“Legolas, we are glad you have come to join us,” said Elladan brightly, hiding his reaction to Thranduil’s obvious grief.  He turned to the King.  “Your Majesty, you are most welcome.”  He bowed again.

 

“Your Majesty, do you wish to sit a while?  There is a seat further along the path.”  Elrohir enquired.  The twins could see that the King was close to breaking point and that he did not wish to lose his control in front of his son.  Thranduil nodded weakly.

 

“Estel, will you take His Majesty to the arbour? I want to take Legolas to the stables for a moment, the new foal has been born that we have been waiting for.  He really is splendid, will you come with me Legolas?  We will only be gone a short while.” Said Elrohir, taking his friend by the arm and leading him away, seeking to give the King time to compose himself.

 

“May I, Father?” Asked Legolas.

 

Thranduil swallowed, struggling for his voice to sound normal.  “Yes, Greenleaf.  Do not worry, I will wait here with Aragorn and Elladan.”

 

As Elrohir and Legolas left the garden, Elladan and Aragorn led Thranduil to the seat.  He sat down heavily, bowed his head and sighed deeply.  The two brothers stood nervously in front of the King until he raised his eyes and motioned for them both to sit beside him.

 

“Legolas has told me that you have been a great help to him.  Thank you.” Said Thranduil.

 

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably on the bench.  He still felt that the whole situation was his fault, and the King’s gratitude was undeserved. 

 

“He is our friend,” said Elladan simply, “we wish to see him well again.”

 

“I fear that will never happen.” Said Thranduil in a sorrowful voice.

 

The young human and elf were shocked at Thranduil’s candour, and glanced at each other with concern.  How did you comfort a King?

 

“My Lord, I will do everything in my power to help your son.  He is like a brother to me, I will not let him fall.”  Aragorn vowed.

 

“Be careful of what you promise young human, lest it be tested.” Said Thranduil.  He still felt an irrational anger towards the man, though he could see that his words were heart felt.

“I had hoped Legolas would return home with me, but he wants to remain here.  I will respect his wishes, though it breaks my heart.”  He suddenly drew himself up and became the stern and fierce King of Mirkwood again.  “Aragorn, I charge you with the care of my son.  If anything else should befall him, I *will* hold you to blame.”

 

“I will protect him with my life, my Lord.” Said Aragorn and knelt down before the King, bowing his head.

 

Thranduil hesitated, the remnants of his rage disappearing as he placed a hand on the young man’s head.

 

“I know.” He whispered.

 

When Legolas and Elrohir returned the small group continued to walk in the gardens until it was time to return to the house for supper, where Thranduil had a further demonstration of Legolas’ ability to take care of himself.  However, the father could see that although on the surface his son was joining in the activity of the meal, he scarcely ate or drank.  How long would it be before his precious Greenleaf succumbed to grief?

 

The King retired that night to the guest chambers with a very heavy heart, and did not sleep until the first light of dawn.

 

*****

 

King Thranduil and his entourage remained at Rivendell for several days, the King spending most of that time with his son.  On the morning of his departure Legolas waited in the courtyard ready to bid farewell to his father.  Thranduil stood in front of him for a moment, gazing at his fair son, knowing that if things remained as they were he would only see him again in Mirkwood when all hope was lost and he had returned to die.  Father and son embraced briefly.  They had said their farewells earlier in private, both knew what might happen and it was a bitter parting.

 

Thranduil mounted his horse, turned, and rode out of the courtyard without ceremony.  He did not look back, but kept the last image of his son, standing tall and proud, close to his heart the whole of the journey home.

 

*****

 

Weeks passed, summer came and the days lengthened.  Legolas and his friends spent more time outside than indoors, walking and even riding together further and further afield.  The prince rode well in spite of his disability.  The horse that bore him seemed to sense his lack of sight, and carried him carefully around obstacles.  Aragorn and the twins still rode beside him, occasionally guiding him gently. 

 

The weather had been particularly warm when Elrohir suggested that they ride out even further than they had before and camp for a night before returning to Rivendell.  It would be the first time their friend had done so since his accident, and Elrohir thought that it might help to lift the young elf’s spirits.  Elladan would not go with them on their trip as he had promised to act as envoy for his father, taking some messages to his grandmother in Lothlorien.

 

The three friends set out in the early morning, Aragorn and Legolas riding together, Elrohir in front.  They were heading east as Aragorn and Legolas had so long ago.  They were in no hurry, content to let the horses find their own pace.

 

At noon they stopped briefly to rest the animals and, after a lunch of bread, dried meat and cheese, sat for a while in the shade of a large oak tree.  Elrohir lay back, his arms behind his head, staring up at the heavy, dark green branches above. 

 

Aragorn sat resting his back against the tree watching Legolas.  The prince sat in the full strength of the midday sun with his arms wrapped around his knees, his face turned towards the sky, feeling the heat on his skin.  The bright light accentuated the elf’s ethereal pallor, making his skin appear translucent.  The young man noticed how much his friend had faded the past few months in spite of everything that his father had tried to curb his slow decline. 

Yet he was here with Elladan and himself, and for that Aragorn was thankful.

 

“I love summer.” Murmured Elrohir.

 

Aragorn smiled at his foster brother.  “That’s because you are basically idle and like nothing better than to laze around, lying in the sun all day, while the rest of us work.”

 

“Absolutely right.  Speaking of which, hadn’t you better clear away what is left of our meal and pack the horses again, Estel?  We should be moving on.”  Elrohir grunted as a heavy clod of earth hit him squarely on the head.

 

“Ow, little brother, that wasn’t fair!  Legolas, Estel threw something at me!”

 

“Quite rightly.” Chuckled the prince.  “But I’m afraid I can do nothing about it.  After all, I didn’t *see* anything!!” He said wryly.

 

Aragorn and Elrohir glanced at each other amazed.  It was the first time they had heard their friend make a joke about his blindness.  Perhaps Legolas would get over this in time?  They readied and mounted their horses and continued their journey with lighter hearts.

 

They rode steadily, covering much ground that afternoon and early evening found them stopped for the night on a quiet hillside overlooking the river Bruinen, which glistened below them in the golden sunset.

 

Aragorn set up the camp, with help from Legolas where he was able.  Elrohir went down to the river and caught them fish for their supper, which they baked, wrapped with leaves in the campfire.  After their meal they settled down into companionable silence, spread out around the dying embers of the fire, content to listen to the gentle lullaby of the river far in the valley below.  Elrohir drifted into sleep, but his two companions had too many thoughts running through their minds to rest.

 

As Aragorn lay there watching the night sky, he saw Eärendil, the Mariner star, appear above him.  His breath caught in his throat and his eyes grew moist as he remembered the last time he had rested beneath the same star, talking with the Mirkwood prince.  It seemed so long ago, when all was good and easy.  How things changed so fast, in the blinking of an eye, or rather the down stroke of an axe.  He sighed heavily.  Legolas heard the sound and pushed up on his elbows his head turning towards the young human.

 

“I know what you are thinking, friend.  Don’t.”  He said quietly.

 

“How do you know, you can’t.....” Aragorn bit his lip and inwardly cursed as he realised what he was about to say.

 

“.....I can’t see?” Finished Legolas, and went on, “I know what you are thinking because I think it too.  I know I cannot see the stars, but I know that they are there.  They will always be there, and that is what makes it difficult for me to bear.  I know that you are thinking of the last time we lay under the heavens and I *could* see them.” 

 

“I am sorry my friend.” Said Aragorn, and he meant it for more than just his tactless remark.

 

Legolas did not speak for a moment, then said simply, “I miss them.”

 

“I know.”

 

“The stars fill my dreams, Estel.  I think of them when I wake, and think of them as I go to sleep.  They have been my guide through the dark for centuries, and now I am lost without them.  I ache to see them, and when I remember their soft light it causes me such pain.  I cannot bear.....I cannot.....” His soft voice broke, and Aragorn could see the silver tracks of tears on the prince’s cheeks.  He scuttled over to the distraught elf and took him in his arms.  Aragorn sat holding Legolas until the elf finally fell asleep, and Elrohir found them both in the same position when he woke in the morning.

 

*****

 

The sultry weather of the past few days was building towards a summer storm.  The air was thick and heavy, and the clear blue skies had taken on a darker, greyer hue.  The three companions rode in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts.  Aragorn had found a moment out of Legolas’ hearing to tell Elrohir of the prince’s distress the night before.  They both knew that their Mirkwood friend still suffered deeply, but had hoped that his friendly bantering the previous day had indicated a change of heart, but it seemed it was not to be.

 

They were taking a path that wound its way alongside a steep, thickly wooded valley.  The ground dropped away sharply to their right, and as they rounded a bend they came suddenly  upon a section of the path that had crumbled away.  It was not by any means impassable, the hillside to their left was steep, but not impossibly so, and the trees were thick but not impenetrable.

 

Unfortunately, Legolas was unable to negotiate the makeshift route unaided, and there was not the room for two horses to push through side by side.

 

“I shall go ahead,” suggested Elrohir, “and you, Estel, sit up behind Legolas on his horse.  That way you can follow behind me and your horse can follow you.” 

 

They rearranged themselves accordingly, and Elrohir set off in the lead, picking his way carefully across the uneven ground.  Aragorn guided Legolas’ horse to follow, warning the elf sitting before him when he needed to duck to miss low hanging branches, his own riderless horse tethered behind. 

 

They had cleared the landslip and entered a small, dark clearing, when Aragorn caught sight of a thin line stretched low between two trees just ahead of Elrohir.   He realised with horror what it might be and lunged towards his brother, calling his name, but being encumbered with Legolas in front of him was a split second too late to save Elrohir from triggering the poacher’s trap.

 

“No!” Aragorn shouted, as an arrow, released by the trip wire, shot through the air and hit Elrohir deeply in the middle of his chest.  The stricken elf groaned slightly and turned towards Aragorn with a surprised look on his face and then slid slowly off his horse to the ground.  The human leapt down from his horse, abandoning Legolas, and ran to crouch at his brother’s side.  Elrohir’s breath came in short gasps and his eyes were wide open in pain and shock.  He gripped Aragorn’s hand.

 

“Estel?  It.....hurts.” He moaned.

 

“Quiet, Ro, you must save your strength.  Lie still, please.” Aragorn said desperately, as he watched a deep red stain spread far too quickly across his brother’s tunic.  He stood up and quickly untied a blanket from the bedroll on Elrohir’s horse and knelt, hastily tearing off strips to pack around the wound to try and stop the bleeding.  He then covered his brother with the remainder to keep him warm.

 

Legolas had heard the whirr of the arrow and the sickening sound of it passing through flesh and bone, but had no idea of how badly Elrohir was hurt.  He heard the words pass between his two companions, and the sound of Aragorn ripping the material.  He heard Elrohir’s weakening gasps and the human’s stifled sobs.

 

“Estel?  What has happened?  Is Ro all right?  Please, tell me.” He pleaded, barely keeping control of his skittish horse.

 

“Legolas, Ro is hurt. Bad.  I can’t leave him, can you dismount?” Aragorn’s voice was broken and hoarse.

 

Legolas nodded, and reached to calm and soothe his frightened mount.  Then he slid down and cautiously made his way over to where he heard Aragorn’s voice guiding him.

 

“That’s it, this way.  Stop.  A little to your left.  Careful, the ground slopes quite a bit.  Just a little more.”  Aragorn’s hand reached for Legolas’ arm and pulled him down beside him.

 

Legolas knelt and reached out his hands to the elf lying before them both.  His fingers felt the soaking wet tunic and the arrow protruding from between Elrohir’s ribs.  He could feel his friend struggling for breath and his weak heartbeat.

 

“How did this happen?”

 

“It was a poacher’s trap, I saw the wire but could not get to Ro in time, I was.....”  Aragorn didn’t finish.

 

“You were acting as nursemaid to me, and could not save him.” Whispered Legolas bitterly.

 

“I saw it too late anyway, it is not your fault.” Said the man distractedly, stroking Elrohir’s forehead gently.  “Ro.  Ro, can you still hear me?  We will fetch help as quickly as possible.  Stay with us, please, Ro.”

 

The sky had grown dark with ominous storm clouds.  A low rumble of thunder filled the air and the first heavy spots of rain began to fall, splashing in the red puddle beneath the injured elf.

 

“You have to fetch help, Estel.  I cannot.  I will stay here with Elrohir.” Said Legolas.

 

Aragorn was torn in two between the desire to go, and return with aid as swiftly as possible, or  to stay with his brother in case.....in case he died.

 

He suddenly became aware of the rain falling steadily and stood, bewildered for a moment.  Then he quickly unwrapped the remaining bedrolls from their packs and using a couple of dead branches erected a crude tent over Legolas and Elrohir to protect them from the downpour. 

 

He knelt once more beside his brother.  Elrohir’s eyes were closed and his breath far too shallow.  “Ro?  You are safe here, Legolas is with you.  I’m going now but I will be back.  Wait for me?” He said, unchecked tears falling softly.

 

Elrohir’s eyes fluttered open.  “It doesn’t hurt so much now.....please don’t be long.” He murmured.

 

Aragorn stood briefly looking down at the two elves, a desperate prayer in his heart.  Then he mounted his horse and spurring it on with a cry, rode hard towards help.

 

Legolas heard the fierce pounding of the horse’s hooves receding into the distance and the steady patter of rain on the blanket above his head.  He heard Elrohir’s shallow breathing and even his fluttering heartbeat. He was aware of the sweet metallic smell of his friend’s blood, mixed with the damp earth of the woodland.  He could feel the sticky wetness of the other elf’s tunic and leggings.  But all was dark, he could see none of it. 

 

If he had not been with his friends on this trip, this would not have happened.  Aragorn would not have needed to be with him, he would have stopped Elrohir from riding into the trap.  Elrohir would not be dying on the muddy ground in front of him.

 

He had never felt so useless.

 

Elrohir moved slightly and moaned.  “Legolas?” He said, his voice barely audible.

 

Legolas shifted forwards and pulled Elrohir’s head onto his lap.  “I’m here Ro.  Lie still.”

 

“Estel?.....”

 

“He has gone for help.  Hold on my friend.”

 

“I do not think I can.”

 

“You must.”

 

“I feel.....cold.”  Legolas wrapped his arms around his friend. Elrohir was icy cold, whether from loss of blood or the rain-soaked ground he did not know. 

 

It felt as though he had been sitting there alone with Elrohir for an age though he knew it had been barely an hour.  Legolas could tell by the sound that the rain had eased, and all that was left of the downpour were the heavy drips off the trees.  The sun came out again and he was thankful as it began to warm up the little tent.

 

He suddenly became aware that he could not hear Elrohir breathing.  He frantically sought for a pulse.  He sighed with relief when he felt the almost imperceptible beat under his fingertips.

 

“Ro?  Stay with me.” He pleaded, but there was no response, not even a sigh.  Legolas was very afraid that his friend would not survive much longer.  He was going to lose him.

 

Elrohir gave a little whimper and gasp of pain.

 

“Ada?” 

 

“He will come soon, just wait.”  Said Legolas, his blank eyes brimming with tears.  He began to sing softly, a childish lullaby to comfort the dying elf. 

“Don’t stop.” Murmured Elrohir when the song had finished.

 

So the Mirkwood prince didn’t.  He sang the whole time that he sat there holding his friend.  He sang of the things that he missed seeing, describing their beauty.  He sang of the stars that would guide Elrohir, should he make his final journey.  He sang a lament for his friend and a lament for his own blindness.  He poured what was left of his spirit into his music, keeping Elrohir alive with his own life force.  He gave all that he could and spared himself none, he did not need it anymore.

 

*****

 

A fear gripped Aragorn when he returned a few hours later and saw both Legolas and Elrohir lying still on the ground.  He had brought help from a nearby village, men with a litter to carry Elrohir to safety, and had sent word on to Lord Elrond to come with haste.  He knew that it would not take very long for his father to arrive, as they had travelled slowly thus far, for Elrond would ride hard and not stop until he reached them, but seeing his brother and friend he thought for a moment that he was too late.

 

He dismounted, calling instructions to the rescue party, and dropped beside the two prone elves.  His trembling fingers sought for Elrohir’s pulse, and he bowed his head in thanks when he found the thin and thready rhythm.  He placed a hand on Legolas’ chest and felt it rise and fall softly, and breathed a sigh of relief.  Calling the men over, he supervised the removal of the two elves onto the litter, and they set out, heading back to the village as fast as possible as the evening drew on.

 

 While Aragorn had been leading the rescuers to Elrohir and Legolas, a room had been prepared to receive them in one of the villager’s homes and the local healer summoned. As soon as they arrived the two elves were carried in gently and placed on adjacent beds.  The healer, a good soul and well practised in his art, set to work carefully removing the arrow from Elrohir’s chest.  Aragorn had not removed it earlier, for fear of causing his brother’s blood to flow too fast and free.  He had been right to be so cautious, it took a great deal of effort on the part of the wise villager to prevent it happening even now. 

 

The healer and Aragorn worked through the night to save Elrohir.  In truth he should have died.  He had survived solely due to Legolas’ strength, freely given to him.  When dawn came, Elrohir lay sleeping peacefully, his breathing gentle and steady. 

 

In the latter part of the night, when his brother was out of danger, Aragorn had turned his attention to Legolas.  He had guessed what happened while he was fetching help, that Legolas had spent all his remaining energy in keeping Elrohir alive.  He knew that his friend would not die.  Not just yet.  But he was shocked at his deterioration in such a short while.  He had faded even more, his skin was almost transparent, colourless, the thin veins showing clearly underneath.

 

“My friend, can you hear me?” He asked, gently sitting beside Legolas on the bed.  “It is all right, Elrohir is going to be well.  You saved him, Legolas, you kept him going.” 

 

He took the elf’s pale hand in his.  “Elrohir would have died without your help.  Thank you for what you did.  Wake, Legolas, please wake.” The young man pleaded.

 

He was rewarded when Legolas stirred and opened his eyes.  “Is Elrohir truly all right?” He asked weakly.

 

“Yes, and you will be too.” Aragorn said, smiling though he knew it would not be seen.

 

“Perhaps.  I am sorry Estel, it was my fault, I hindered you.  You would have stopped him before he walked into the trap if it were not for me.”

 

“No, Legolas, I told you before, you were not responsible.  You kept him alive, it was an accident.” 

 

Legolas sighed, and closed his eyes tightly.  After a moment he opened them again and frowned.

 

“ Each time I open my eyes and it is still dark it is harder to bear.”

 

“ Do not give up Legolas, please!” Urged Aragorn, a note of panic entering his voice.  He could see that the elf was at the end of his strength, and did not want his despair weakening him further.

 

“I will not.  Do not worry.”  Legolas said quietly.  He swallowed and then gripped Aragorn’s hand.

 

“Estel, I would like to go home.”

 

“You will, as soon as Father gets here.  He will not be long I promise.” Soothed the young man.

 

“No.  I mean my home.  To Mirkwood.”

 

Aragorn stared down at his friend, horrified.  He knew exactly what Legolas meant.

 

“You cannot go, not yet!  There must be things you haven’t tried yet, more that can be done! Wait and speak with my Father before you make this decision!”  Aragorn could not bear the thought of Legolas returning home to die.  He would not let it happen.

 

“Estel, I wish to be with my Father, surrounded by things I love one last time, even if I cannot see them.  Please.  I have not ‘given up’, not willingly, but I do not think I can hold on much longer.”

 

Aragorn looked at Legolas and saw his thin form, his pale, fragile skin, his empty eyes and knew the truth.  Grief had won its battle with his friend’s spirit, the proud elf warrior could fight no more. 

 

Legolas heard the young man give a stifled sob and felt his hand tremble.  “Hush, friend.  I do not take the path to the Halls of Mandos just yet.  I would travel with you once more to Mirkwood, if you will come?”

 

Aragorn took a shaky breath.  “Of course, Legolas.  I will do whatever you wish.”

 

“Thank you.” Sighed the prince, and, closing his eyes, drifted into sleep.

 

*****

 

An hour or two later Aragorn heard horses arriving and went outside the cottage to greet his father.  Lord Elrond had ridden hard and fast without stopping as soon as he had received his foster-son’s summons. 

 

The Elf Lord saw Aragorn’s sorrowful expression and thought the worst.  He dismounted and grabbed the young man by the shoulders.

 

“Elrohir?  Is he.....”

 

“He lives,  Father, he lives.” Said Aragorn.

 

Elrond drew him into a tight embrace.  “Thank the Valar!” He sighed.  “Then why your sadness Estel?”  He pulled back, looking anxiously into his son’s eyes.  “Legolas?  Has something happened to Legolas?”

 

Aragorn nodded, his eyes filling with tears.  “He gave all his strength to Ro and left nothing for himself.  He sacrificed himself Ada.  He.....he wants to go home.”  His voice broke and he wept on Elrond’s shoulder.

 

The Elf’s face was grim as he soothed and patted Aragorn’s back, allowing him to release his anguish.

 

“Take me to them both, Estel.” He said when Aragorn had stopped crying, and the young man led his father into the cottage.

 

Lord Elrond stood beside Elrohir’s bed and bent down, brushing a stray strand of hair from his son’s face.  His movements disturbed the sleeping elf and he opened his eyes to see his father smiling down at him.

 

“Ada, you are here!” He murmured, gratefully.

 

“Yes, I am here now.  How does it feel?” 

 

Elrohir winced a little. “My chest pains me, but it does not hurt to breathe like it did before.”

 

“Good.  You have been well taken care of.  You were very lucky. I know the healer of this village, he is a good man.”  Said Elrond approvingly.

 

“Legolas helped me, he sang while we waited for help to come.  I.....I would not have lived without him, Ada.”  Elrohir said in a small voice.

 

“I know.  I must leave you for a moment to attend to him, but I will be back shortly and then we will return home.”

 

“Why, what is wrong with him?  Is he all right? ”

 

“He is just tired, very tired my son.  Do not worry, rest quietly now.”  Said the healer.  He did not want Elrohir to know just yet how weak Legolas was after pouring his life force into him.

 

Elrond left his son’s bedside and turned to Legolas.  He sat down on the covers next to the frail elf and rested a hand on his forehead for a moment, his eyes closed, concentrating and searching.  Aragorn came up behind him and waited, watching hopefully.  Elrond removed his hand and sighed.

 

“Is there anything you can do?”

 

His father opened his eyes and looked steadily into his son’s.  He shook his head sadly. 

 

“I am sorry, Estel.  His spirit seeks release.  He is so far away that I cannot reach him without being unable to return myself.” 

 

Aragorn looked frantically at Legolas.  “Father!  He isn’t.....”

 

“No, not yet.  His spirit is still here, on Arda.  But its hold is weak.  I am truly sorry my son.  I wish it were not so.”  Said Elrond huskily.  Aragorn wiped a hand across his eyes and let it fall to his father’s shoulder.  He sighed heavily.

 

“Then I will take him home.” He said.

 

*****

 

A sombre party returned back to Rivendell.  Elrohir was carried in a litter as he was still in some pain from his wound and Legolas, who had regained some strength after resting, rode in front of Aragorn.  On arrival, Elrohir was taken to his chamber and made comfortable and, with a heavy heart, Lord Elrond began to make the arrangements for Legolas to return home to Mirkwood.

 

The Prince was exhausted after the journey.  It was as if with the end of his trials being in sight, he rushed forward ever faster to embrace his doom.  He barely spoke, though smiled gently in acknowledgement of Aragorn’s attempts at conversation.  He did not eat or drink, and spent much of his time in quiet meditation.

 

Aragorn was more frightened than he had ever been.  He could not contemplate losing this elf, his closest friend.  Living amongst elves for most of his life, he had grown accustomed to their immortality, their tremendous ages, and to think that Legolas would no longer walk in Middle Earth by his side was beyond imagining.  He barely left his friend’s side, and then only to visit Elrohir, who was recovering surprisingly quickly, even given the fast healing abilities of elves.  Elrohir had been told of Legolas’ desire to return home and had received the news in great sorrow.

 

“How is Legolas this day?” His brother asked, on one such visit.

 

“He sits on the balcony of his room, listening to the waterfalls in the valley.  He says nothing, but listens when I speak.  I am afraid, Ro.” Aragorn confessed.

 

“He gave me his life, Estel.  He has nothing left for himself.” Said Elrohir guiltily.

 

 “Please do not trouble yourself, Ro.  You know that you would have done exactly the same for him, as I would, if it would have helped.” Comforted Aragorn, sitting by his brother’s bed.

 

“Yes, I would, gladly.” 

 

Aragorn got up and stood looking out of the window.  He could see Legolas’ balcony and watched his friend for a moment as he sat absorbing his surroundings.

 

“We are nearly ready for the journey to Mirkwood.  Father has sent word to King Thranduil to expect us in a fortnight.”

 

“The King will be broken hearted.”

 

“I know.  Father thought it better to warn him well in advance of our arrival, so that he could prepare himself to greet Legolas.”

 

“You are going with him?”

 

“I will not leave his side until he.....” Aragorn’s throat tightened and he choked back a sob.

 

“I wish that I could come with you, little brother.”  Said Elrohir, distressed.

 

“You are not quite well enough for such a long journey, Ro.  I know you would come if you could.” Said the young man, coming to sit beside Elrohir again.  Taking his hand he gave it a gentle squeeze.  He knew that Elrohir felt he was in part to blame for their friend’s rapid deterioration.

 

The two brothers sat silently for a while, each wrapped in their own thoughts.  Then Aragorn got up.   “ I will come and tell you before we leave, Ro.” He paused for a moment, head bowed.  “I wish Ell was here with us.”

 

“As do I, Estel.  It could not be a worse time for him to be in Lothlorien.  Did Father send word?”

 

“Yes, but he will not be able to get here in time.”

 

“He will be devastated.”  Elrohir turned his head away from his brother and towards the window, unwilling for him to see his anguish.  Aragorn saw the movement and put a hand behind the elf’s head, pulling him to face him. 

 

“There is nothing we could have done, Ro, nothing.”

 

“But if I had.....”

 

“No.  Do not torment yourself.” 

 

The two brothers held each other close for a moment, sharing their sorrow, then Aragorn pulled back.

 

“ I will go to Legolas to make sure that he is ready.  Think and pray for him, Elrohir.”

 

“I will.” Promised the elf, and Aragorn straightened his shoulders, preparing himself before visiting his friend, and left the room.

 

*****

 

Preparations were complete two days later.  Legolas had indicated that he wished to leave Rivendell quietly, he was to be accompanied by Aragorn but no one else.  Elrohir was allowed to get up to bid farewell to Legolas as the two friends left for Mirkwood, and he stood beside his father in the courtyard as Aragorn added some last minute items to his and Legolas’ saddlebags.

 

Elrohir walked over to where Legolas sat on his horse and took his hand.

 

“Farewell, cousin.  May the stars forever shine on your path.”  He said, his tears falling freely.

 

Legolas turned his head towards his friend’s voice and smiled sadly.

 

“Namárië, Elrohir.” He whispered. 

 

Elrohir could not speak and watched as Aragorn mounted his horse and turned it to stand beside Legolas.  The young man nodded once to his father and his brother and then gently urged his mount forwards, leading the Prince out of Rivendell and on the path towards his home.  He did not look back.

 

Lord Elrond came and stood beside his son, placing an arm about his shoulders.  They silently watched the travellers until they were out of sight and then went indoors with heavy hearts.

 

*****

 

Aragorn rode quietly beside Legolas.  The road from Rivendell to Mirkwood was a good one and he knew they would reach Legolas’ home easily.  The late summer was just drawing to a close, the first hints of autumn colour brushing the edges of the leaves.  The weather was dry and warm, they would have no trouble making camp on the few nights they would need to.

 

The human watched the elf beside him constantly for signs of tiredness or distress.  Legolas had rested well after returning from their abortive trip with Elrohir and had regained enough strength to undertake this journey, but he lived on borrowed time.  He was weak and in constant pain now as his body sought to give up.

 

They reached the high pass over the mountains and Legolas stopped and sniffed the air.

 

“The winter will be early this year my friend.” He murmured.

 

Aragorn gave a small smile.  “You can tell?”

 

“It is in the air I breathe.  I can smell it.  Strange, I never noticed it before.”  He sighed.

 

Aragorn sat gazing at the valley beneath them.  “It is so beautiful here.” He said to himself under his breath.

 

Legolas heard the soft words.  “I stopped here on my way to you in the spring to look on it.  The view is breathtaking.”  Legolas paused, and then added quietly;

 

“Would you describe it for me, Estel?”

 

Aragorn swallowed against the lump in his throat and began to paint a picture for his friend of the magnificent snow-capped mountains against the early autumn sky, of the fields mapped out beneath them.  He described the birds, flying far below and the silver thread of the river weaving through the distant valley.  He told him of the heavy dark green forests close by and the bare grey downs far away in the distance towards the horizon.  He ached as he tried to describe every single detail for Legolas, so that he could keep it in his heart.

 

Legolas had his eyes closed and his face turned to the warm sun as he listened to Aragorn’s words.

 

“Yes, that is how I remember it.  Thank you, my friend.” 

 

With a sad, wistful glance over his shoulder, Aragorn nudged his horse onwards leading Legolas as they resumed their travels.

 

The journey was uneventful and passed by swiftly, too swiftly for Aragorn, until suddenly they were barely a day’s ride from Legolas’ home.

 

As they drew closer, the knot in Aragorn’s stomach grew tighter with his increasing dread of what would happen to Legolas when they arrived.  How long would the Prince remain in this world before he took the paths to the Halls of Mandos?  Would his grief-induced death come suddenly, without warning, or would he linger on, becoming more and more frail until he faded from their sight?  However his inevitable end came, Aragorn silently repeated his vow that he would be by his friend’s side.

 

Just then Legolas halted, his head turned to listen.  “We are being met.”  he said.

 

Aragorn knew that their presence would have been noted by the woodland elves the very moment they arrived in Mirkwood and was not surprised.  They sat waiting for their escort to arrive.  Aragorn looked sympathetically at Legolas.  He could see that the elf was anxious, after all these were *his* people.  He had left them as a proud warrior Prince, and was returning weak and dying.

 

“I shall try not to make your father angry this time, Legolas, and not use the ornaments for target practice.”  He said, referring to an incident when he first visited Legolas’ home years before, reminding his friend of happier times to cheer him a little.

 

“Father always hated that vase anyway.” Smiled Legolas, remembering how upset the young human boy had been when he realised what he had done.  “You looked as if you were expecting him to throw you in the dungeons!”

 

“I was!  I didn’t think I’d ever see my father again!.....”  His laughter died as he realised what he had said.  Before long, he would not see Legolas again.  Ever.

 

“Don’t, Estel, don’t think of it yet.  I am still here.”  Comforted Legolas.  He was saddened by the thought of leaving Aragorn but he was far, far older than the young man and in his long life had seen many such men come and go, their short lives so swift and fleeting, though none before had he taken to his heart as a friend and brother.  He knew that Aragorn would take his leaving badly, and wished that he could fight this relentless despair for him alone, in fact, his friend’s love and loyalty had kept him from fading a long time before, but he could struggle no more.

 

Aragorn could now hear the sounds of horses approaching and before long several elves appeared and came to a halt in front of them.  Their leader bowed his head and spoke to them.

 

“Welcome home, your Highness.  Your father instructed us to escort you and your companion to the palace.” 

 

“Thank you, Celebithil.” Said Legolas to the surprised elf.  The prince heard his sharp intake of breath.  “I recognised your voice, it is no trick.”

 

The elves formed a guard of honour about the two friends and led them to the Great Gates of the royal residence.  Aragorn noted the way they cast sidelong glances at their Prince, concern and sadness reflected in their eyes. 

 

Celebithil called out for the gates to open and led the party into the cavernous halls.  They rode a little way through vast underground passages, lit by daylight filtering through long shafts in the ceilings above until they reached the Great Hall itself.  It towered above them, the roof lost high in the darkness.  It was well lit with hundreds of burning torches and candles, their light reflecting off the sparkling gems and minerals embedded in the walls.  The group dismounted and stood before the King’s throne.

 

King Thranduil walked forward towards Legolas, who stood a little shakily on his feet.  Aragorn steadied him gently until the King swept his frail son into his arms.

 

“Legolas, my Greenleaf.” He cried, holding him close.

 

The unusual display of affection by their fierce King broke the resolve of many in the chamber and several elves began to weep softly.  They could all see that their beloved prince was close to death.

 

“I am home, Father.” Whispered Legolas.

 

The King led his son to his place beside his throne and seated him gently.  “ Sit here beside me, Legolas, and rest a while.”

 

The prince nodded and leant his head against the chair back, content to listen to the sounds of his home.  The King called for food and drink to be brought for his son and Aragorn, to refresh them after their journey, but as a servant went to give some to Legolas, the young man shook his head sadly.  His friend had eaten and drunk nothing now for some time.  Thranduil saw the gesture and a deep sadness filled his eyes.  Nothing that Elrond’s message contained could have prepared him for the sight of his fading child.

 

“You will stay with us?” Asked Thranduil.

 

“I will not leave, your Majesty.” Replied Aragorn.

 

“Then I will have rooms prepared for you.”

 

“There is no need, my Lord, I would rather remain with your son, if I may.” Interrupted Aragorn.

 

“Estel, please, I would prefer to be alone.” Said Legolas softly, adding, “but I would like you nearby if that is possible Father?”  He had to face this by himself, alone, but he knew that his friend would feel hurt by his rejection and so sought to reassure him. 

 

“Of course, Legolas.” Said the King, and motioned for servants to take care of the preparations.

 

Legolas was overwhelmed with the familiar smells and sounds of the palace.  He absorbed everything through his remaining heightened senses.  The smell and sound of the burning, crackling wood from the great fire pit, the heat warming his face.  The echoing sounds of elves going about their business in the depths of the caves, faint snatches of song drifting on the air and the faint drip and trickle of water as it fell into delicate collecting basins around the great chamber. When he turned his head slightly he could smell the comforting scent of his father, all wood smoke and damp leaves and earth.  The onslaught of such stimuli on his weakened and weary body was too much to bear.

 

Aragorn was by his side the instant that the prince slumped forward in his chair, catching him gently and lowering him to the ground.

 

“Quickly, take Prince Legolas to his chambers!” Called the King, and servants rushed forwards to bear Legolas away, Thranduil and Aragorn following anxiously behind.

 

The unconscious elf was laid gently on his bed, and his father tenderly covered him with a soft coverlet.  He sat down in a chair by the bedside gazing down at his child.

 

Aragorn stood at the foot of the bed, not knowing what to do or say.  He felt he was intruding somehow, but did not want to leave in case this was the end.  His breathing was ragged and he tried to control it.  He wanted to cry out to the gods and say that this was wrong, unfair, that it must not happen.

 

After a while the King turned his sorrowful gaze on the man and blinked a little, as if he had only just become aware of his presence.  He did not speak, but simply gestured for Aragorn to bring a chair close by and sit with him.  He knew that this man had captured his son’s heart as a friend and brother and that he belonged by his side.  Aragorn nodded gratefully and did as he was bidden.

 

After some time Aragorn fell asleep, exhausted by his efforts in bringing Legolas home and the King carefully manoeuvred him so that he rested his arms and head on the foot of Legolas’ bed, letting him sleep there while he continued to keep vigil over his son. 

 

Several hours had passed when a faint sound jerked the young man awake.

 

“Where am I?” Came a hoarse whisper from the bed.

 

“Legolas!  You are home, in your own room, my child.” Soothed his father, stroking his son’s brow.

 

“Estel?”

 

“I am here.  Don’t ever frighten me like that again!” Said Aragorn, taking hold of his friend’s hand.

 

“What happened?” Frowned the elf.

 

“You fainted.”

 

“I do not ‘faint’.” Murmured Legolas indignantly.

 

“You did.” Said his father wryly.

 

“That is not fair.  Do not take his side, he will be insufferable.”

 

“I will not be.”

 

“You will be, you always are.”

 

Thranduil smiled to hear the two friend’s banter.  “How do you feel, Legolas?  Do you need anything?”

 

“A little water, please.” The King gladly poured some for his son and Aragorn helped his friend to sit up so that he could drink it.

 

“The journey tired me more than I thought.” Confessed the prince.

 

“ We will get you strong again, my Greenleaf.”

 

“Perhaps.” Sighed Legolas, smiling at his father.  “ It is good to be home.”

 

Aragorn was pleased that Legolas indeed seemed a little better.  He had spoken more in the past hour than in the previous week, and he had drunk a little, not a lot it was true, but a little was better than nothing.  Maybe all his friend needed was to be here, in Mirkwood. 

 

He got up and bowed slightly to the King.

 

“I will take my leave, my Lord.  I can see that your son wishes to spend some time with you.  I will return later, if I may, Legolas?”

 

Legolas just smiled and nodded, and his father bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement to the young man.

 

“Thank you for bringing Legolas home to me.” The King said softly, looking at his son tenderly. 

 

Aragorn left the room with a much lighter heart than he had for a long time.  Perhaps there was hope?

 

*****

 

King Thranduil sat talking with Legolas for some time until his son needed to rest again.  When he awoke, Aragorn returned as promised, and the King left, pausing to grip the young man’s shoulder in gratitude as he passed. 

 

He sat in the chair that Legolas’ father had just vacated, and looked at his friend for signs that he was improving.  There seemed to be the faintest hint of colour on the elf’s cheeks, but was that his imagination?  He was so desperate for Legolas to be well again.  A plate of half-eaten fruit and bread lay on a table by his bed, and it gave Aragorn hope that his friend was eating again.  But as the prince turned his blind gaze towards the sound of Aragorn’s greeting, his eyes were still blank and expressionless.  No matter how many times he turned his sightless stare to Aragorn, the man could not get used to it.  It was always a shock.

 

“I said I would return.  I have moved into my quarters.” Said Aragorn.

 

“Are your rooms satisfactory?” Enquired Legolas.

 

“They are fine.  I am just along the passageway from here.”

 

“I am sorry that I did not want you here in my chambers, Estel.  I know that in the past you have stayed in my guest room, but I need to do this by myself.  Do you understand?”  Legolas knew that he needed to be alone to carry out the plan he had in mind.  He had hated lying to his friend and father, but could see no other way.

 

“Of course, Legolas.” Said Aragorn, a little uncomfortable.  He had felt hurt when the prince had asked to be by himself, but thought that it was because his friend might be embarrassed if he made mistakes while reacquainting himself with his chambers.

 

“Actually, I did not want your snoring to keep me awake.” Legolas lied.  He desperately wanted his friend to believe he was feeling better, stronger.

 

“I do not snore!” Said Aragorn, laughing.

 

“You snore louder than a warg.  Many is the time I have wanted to push you out of a flet!”

 

“Well, if I find myself on the ground the next time we build one, I shall know who to blame!”

The young man grew silent, wistful.  “Will there be a next time, Legolas?” He said sadly.

 

“Oh, Estel.  I wish this was easier for you.  I cannot promise such things.” Said Legolas, in distress.

 

“I am sorry, I should not have said that.” Said Aragorn, kicking himself for being so stupid.  His visit had been going so well, it was good to hear Legolas laugh again, and now he had spoilt it.

 

“I know what you are thinking, I hear it in your voice.  You have not upset me, or ‘ruined’ this time together.” Sighed the elf.

 

The young man looked up sharply. “What! can you read my mind now?”

 

“No!” Legolas laughed again, “ I just know you too well my friend.”

 

Aragorn gave a rueful smile.  “You do indeed.”

 

The two companions talked for a long time, remembering past escapades and troubles, adventures they had experienced together and with Elladan and Elrohir.  All the while Legolas sought to reassure Aragorn that all would be well, though it broke his heart to do so.

 

For the elf knew that his time was short.  Very short.  He was using every last drop of his remaining energy in a supreme effort to appear well in front of his father and best friend.  At last Legolas gave a yawn and Aragorn told him he should get some rest and, bidding him goodnight and promising to return in the morning, he left his friend alone.

 

Legolas waited late into the night until he was certain that he would not be disturbed and then rose from his bed and dressed in outdoor clothes from his wardrobe.  He had no trouble finding his way around, he had occupied these rooms for hundreds of years and they were as familiar to him as his own body.  He carefully felt his way, touching and pausing beside each piece of furniture, each object, each memory of his past.

 

He sat at his desk, reaching out and feeling for the scratches and marks he had made with his quill as an elfling, smiling as he remembered the times he had been scolded for doing so.  He found the carved wooden statue of his mother who had departed so many ages ago, and gently touched it to his lips.  He continued his explorations, his hands skimming across once  favourite books, polished stones, tapestries, stone, metal, wood until he came to the last objects.

 

He felt his bow and quiver, resting in their usual place by the door, and took them in his hands holding them, caressing them.  He fingered the fine inlaid decoration in the leather arrow case, stroked the feathered ends of the arrows.  He took the bow and tested its tension, raising it as if he would fire it, bending his head to sight along an arrow he would never see.  By now his tears were falling freely as he gently replaced his weapons.

 

He drew a shuddering breath.  He had made his farewells.  He only hoped that those he left behind would forgive him.

 

Legolas quietly opened the door to the passageway and slipped through.  He knew where Aragorn was sleeping, his chambers were only a few feet away.  He had to be especially quiet as he knew that his friend would be sensitive to any noise from the prince’s room.  He stood briefly by the closed door and bowed his head.

 

“Namárië, Estel.” He whispered, crying softly, and then gingerly felt his way along the passage towards the stables.  All was quiet with not a soul about.

 

The palace stables were not far from the great gates, a large, low underground cavern with a stream diverted into them as drinking water for the horses and for cleaning.  Legolas knew this area well.  He had spent a great part of his youth helping take care of the animals as he learnt to ride.  He carefully edged his way along the walls until he reached the stall that held his horse.

 

“Hello, old friend, will you carry me once more?” He said, stroking the horse’s nose.

 

It snickered softly and pushed into his hand.  “You will have to help me, I’m afraid.” Said the elf, reaching out for the horse’s mane and pulling himself up with practised ease.  He did not intend leaving by the main gates.  Although he knew the magic words to open them, he did not wish for any of the guards to see him.  Legolas knew another, secret way from the palace that he had discovered as a youngster, an old, forgotten passageway probably built in times of war as a postern gate for escape or to bring in supplies if the palace was under siege.  He carefully urged his mount along the dusty corridor, keeping his head as low against the creature’s neck as possible to avoid any unseen obstacles.  He relied on his horse to find its way safely.

 

He came to the gate and murmured the unlocking words under his breath.  He discovered as an inquisitive elfling that the same words could be used to open any of the locked gates in the palace, if spoken by any of the Royal family.  The stone door slowly swung outward and within a moment Legolas was free under the night sky.  He turned, spoke again and the door closed securely behind him, leaving no trace of his passing.

 

A few miles to the west there flowed the Enchanted River, a tributary of the great Forest River which flowed past the palace.  Anyone who drank its waters or fell into it would sleep for an unnaturally long time.  Legolas turned his horse and made straight for it.

 

He rode steadily, recognising the dawn when he heard the first birds singing.  His horse needed little guidance as the path was a familiar one that Legolas had often taken to reach good hunting grounds further on.  The smell and sounds of the autumnal forest around him soothed the elf’s aching heart.  This was where he always longed to be when troubles beset him, throughout his long life these woods and glades had always brought him comfort.

 

He was relieved that he had not been followed.  He knew that as soon as it was discovered that he was missing, a party would set out to look for him, but he hoped that he would have enough time to do what he had to.  He did not need long.

 

Legolas’ horse slowed as they reached the banks of the river, and the prince dismounted.  He stroked the animal lovingly, thanking it for bringing him here without harm, and then, murmuring a few words, patted it on the rear and sent it back to the palace.

 

Legolas reach inside his outer tunic and took out a small flask that he had taken from his room and made his way to the water’s edge.  He did not wish to touch the water, not just yet.  Holding onto an overhanging branch for balance, he held the container, carefully bringing it closer and closer to the running water that he could hear flowing past his feet, until he felt it fill with liquid.  He cautiously replaced the stopper on the flask, and stood up.

 

The Elf picked his way back from the riverbank, his hands in front of him reaching for low branches and testing each step as he went, until he was stopped by a tree trunk and he sat down, his back resting against it.

 

Legolas sat there for some time, listening to the gentle sound of the river, the soft, distant bird song and the lazy hum of insects.  He closed his eyes and swallowed against the tightness in his throat.  He had tried.  He had tried so hard to live, but this darkness had eaten into his soul.  Once he thought he might survive, but Elrohir’s accident and near death had taken away what little hope he had.  It had been his fault, he believed, and he had given all he had to make it right. 

 

He could bear it no longer, but he was too strong, even now, and foresaw a lingering death ahead.  He did not want to steadily weaken and fade until he could do nothing for himself, he did not want to hear pity and sorrow in the voices of those around him as they watched him die. 

 

He would not take his own life.  It was a precious gift from Ilúvatar, he could not throw it away.  But he could ease his passing.  He would drink the enchanted waters, and send himself into a sleep of oblivion that, in his frail condition, he would not be woken from.  He took the flask and removed the stopper with a shaking hand.  He hesitated for a moment and whispered a few soft words, asking for forgiveness and blessing and then threw back his head and drank the liquid down.  Legolas sighed deeply, his hand dropped into his lap and the flask rolled onto the ground.  All was still and silent.

 

*****

 

When King Thranduil awoke he immediately rose and went to his son’s room.  He was surprised to find him missing, but thought that maybe he had made his way to Aragorn’s chambers, and so he walked along the passageway and knocked on the young man’s door.

 

He heard a sleepy voice bid him enter, and strode in.  On seeing the King, Aragorn hastily sat up in bed, a puzzled look on his face.

 

“Forgive me,” said Thranduil, taken aback.  “I had hoped to find Legolas here, he is not in his rooms.”

 

“He is not here your Majesty, I left him late last night as he was tired.”  Aragorn had got out of bed by this time and was quickly pulling on clothes.

 

“Then where is he?  He cannot have travelled far.” Frowned the King.

 

The older elf and man looked at each other, both seeing anxiety in the other’s eyes.

 

“We must find him.” Said Thranduil, spinning round out of the room and calling for his servants to help search for his son.

 

“I am with you, my Lord.” Said Aragorn, grabbing his outer tunic and sword belt and buckling it on as he ran beside the King.

 

The palace was scoured for Legolas, every corner was searched from the cellars to the throne room, from the dungeons to the great hall.  At first the King hoped that Legolas had either tried to find his sightless way somewhere and had got lost, or that he had felt ill again and had fainted or fallen unseen, but as time passed he grew more and more worried.  Thranduil and Aragorn met in the great hall, both having looked unsuccessfully for the prince themselves, when a servant came from the stables with the news that Legolas’ horse was missing.

 

“What?” Thundered the King. “How is this so?  Legolas could not have ridden out past the guards without them noticing.  Send them to me at once.”

 

The guards came and nervously stood before Thranduil.

 

“Well? What have you to say?  My son appears to have taken his horse and vanished from the palace in front of your very eyes!  Were you asleep?  If you were I shall have you thrown into the deepest dungeon!”

 

“M.....My Lord.  It is not possible.  Prince Legolas cannot have left through the main gates.”

 

Celebithil stepped forwards and bowed respectfully.  “Your Majesty, perhaps your son knew of another way out of the palace?  There are many old and hidden exits, long forgotten.  Could he perhaps have stumbled across one at some time?” He suggested.

 

Thranduil frowned.  “It is possible.”  He cast his mind back through his long memory.  “Yes, there may be another way, follow me.”  He said, as he remembered the very route Legolas had taken, and led Aragorn and the search party towards it.

 

“Here, my Lord, there are recent hoof prints in the dust.” Said Aragorn, crouched at the passage entrance.

 

“Bring horses at once, we will follow.  He cannot have gone far.” Ordered the King.

 

“But why?  Where is he going?” Muttered Aragorn to himself.

 

“ I am afraid to think it, but I believe I know.” Said Thranduil, the dread in his voice clear to Aragorn.

 

The young man swallowed anxiously.  “Where, my Lord?” He said in a whisper.

 

“Follow me.” Replied the King, as he saw his son’s tracks heading the way he had suspected, towards the Enchanted River.

 

They rode hard and fast, trying to gain on the prince, but Thranduil called the party to a sudden halt as he saw Legolas’ horse gently trotting towards them around a bend in the path, without its rider.

 

“I fear we are too late!” He cried, and urged his mount onwards in a desperate hurry.

 

They reached the riverbank and searched frantically along its length for any sign of the Legolas, when Aragorn yelled as he spotted a gleam of golden hair in a patch of sunlight beside a tree.

 

“Here, my Lord!” He shouted, leaping from his horse and running over to the figure slumped near the water’s edge.  The King dismounted with a fierce cry and rushed to his son’s side.

 

“Legolas, my Greenleaf, No!” He wailed, grabbing the still form to his chest.

 

Aragorn stood shocked and bewildered.  This could not have happened.  His dearest friend could not be dead?  He watched uncomprehendingly as the King scooped the frail form of his son into his arms and called for the accompanying elves to prepare to carry him back to the palace.

 

He stepped in front of Thranduil, looking down at the pale body of Legolas in disbelief. 

 

“My Lord?  Is he.....?”

 

The King raised his tear filled eyes to the young human.  “He sleeps.  He has drunk the waters of oblivion from the Enchanted River to hasten his departure for the Halls of Mandos.  He will never wake in Arda again.  I have lost my son.”  The last he added in a broken whisper.

 

The elves had bound together branches and covered them with soft, brown bracken from the woods to make a litter to carry the prince.  King Thranduil gently laid his child upon it. 

“We will ride beside Prince Legolas as a guard of honour as we bring him home to his rest.” He said, mounting his horse and moving to the side of the litter.  Aragorn did the same, but sat stunned and unmoving until he realised that the party were moving off.  Everything had happened too quickly for him to comprehend.

 

The elves, most of them weeping openly, began to sing a lament for their Prince as they rode towards the palace, and it was then that Aragorn realised that it was true, that his friend was gone forever.  But still he could not grieve.  Legolas still breathed, albeit faintly, his soul was still held within his slender frame.  He was not dead, not yet, but asleep.  Aragorn could not give in to his heartbreak.

 

As they arrived at the Great Gates Aragorn was moved by the great numbers of sorrowful elves lining the entrance, all come to pay tribute to the elven prince, as outriders had been sent immediately to let them know as soon as Legolas had been found.  The voices of their small party were magnified as the crowds joined in the plaintive song.  Legolas was carried into the Great Hall where a bed had hastily been prepared for him and his father tenderly placed him there, gently kissing his brow.  The King then took his place on his throne, his head in his hands, as the elves continued to sing.

 

Aragorn sank to his knees beside Legolas’ bed, staring at his pale, fragile profile.

 

“Legolas? Please do not do this.  Please do not leave.”  He pleaded, and as he did so, his tears began to fall, knowing there would be no answer.

 

*****

 

Legolas did not know what to expect when he drank the enchanted water.  He had shivered as a numbing coldness flooded his body, he lost his grip on the flask he held and heard it roll to the ground.  All the sounds of the forest surrounding him had rapidly disappeared, except for the running water and he felt as though he been listening to its soothing sound for hours.  He was content to lie there, he felt comfortable and safe.  He did not know if he could move, he did not want to.  All his fears and worries, aches and pains were gone, he could not even remember what they were.  The darkness around him did not upset him anymore, he simply accepted it.

 

After a length of time, that could have been seconds or days, he was aware that the darkness was growing lighter until he seemed to be surrounded by a grey mist.  The brightness steadily increased in intensity until it began to hurt Legolas’ eyes, but he could do nothing to shield them.  With the brightness, the fog cleared, like the early morning mist when burnt away by the sun, and Legolas saw that he was lying on a bare, grassy hillside by a gentle river that flowed and twinkled in the sunshine.  In the distance was a beautiful, vast stone building, not high but immensely wide, stretching  from side to side before him as far as he could see.

 

As he looked, he saw a dark haired female dressed in soft shades of blue and grey leave one of the elegant colonnaded entrances and make her way towards him.  She appeared to be very young and yet carried with her an aura of immense age.  As she neared Legolas he saw such wisdom and power in her eyes that he trembled, afraid.

 

“Welcome, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood.” Legolas heard her say, though she did not seem to speak.

 

As he heard her low, gentle voice, it was as if he had been unlocked from his enchanted sleep, and he found he could move.  He knew that he was in the presence of a great being and threw himself forward at her feet, his head bowed.

 

“My Lady.”  He whispered.  “May I ask who it is that stands before me?”

 

“ I am Vairë, wife of Mandos, Weaver of tapestries in the Halls that you see before you.  I tell the story of all things.”

 

“Am I to go with you?” Asked Legolas, raising his eyes tentatively to meet hers.  He drew in a sharp breath as he saw bright tears of compassion in her eyes.

 

“Not just yet.” She said, shaking her head.  “Sit beside me Legolas.  We will talk for a while.”  The fair being sat gracefully upon the grass.

 

Legolas frowned as he did as she asked.  “Then am I to stay here?  Am I not yet dead?”   He paused, puzzled and confused.  “Is it because I still sleep?  Will I wait here until my spirit leaves my body?”

 

Vairë gave a delicate, musical laugh.  “ You ask questions like an inquisitive elfling, yet you are not so young.”

 

“ It is true I have been told many times that it was time I grew up.  I think I have been badly influenced by my friend, Estel.  He is a human that I know.....that I knew.” He added sadly.

 

“Yes. I know of Aragorn, son of Arathorn.  He is woven into my tapestries.”  Vairë said, but did not elaborate further. 

 

Legolas looked up in surprise, but said nothing.

 

“Why are you here, Legolas?” She asked after a long silence.

 

“I.....I am dying.  At least, I thought I was, but now I am not so sure.”  Said the elf, plaintively.

 

“You are right, son of Thranduil.  But you are not yet dead.  I ask you again, Why are you here?” Vairë’s voice was stern and Legolas was suddenly afraid.

 

“ I could not bear the darkness,  I.....I could not continue, I lost all hope, I.....I sought to ease my passing.” He began to cry.  “ I am sorry, my Lady.  I was wrong.”

 

Vairë smiled.  “Do not be distressed.  I know that you did not try to take your life.  But were you not told that there is always hope?”

 

“Yes, but.....”

 

“You cannot live without your sight.  Your blindness is killing you.”

 

“Yes.” Said  Legolas brokenly.

 

“Yet this is not your time, Legolas Greenleaf,  son of Thranduil.  You must return and live.”

 

Legolas looked up at Vairë, a glimmer of hope growing in his heart.  “How?” He whispered.

 

“ You have a part to play in the future of Arda.  I have woven your story into my tapestries.  It will be so.”  As Vairë spoke her voice faded.  The sound of the stream running by slowly began to change, becoming more musical like many voices singing. 

 

Legolas closed his eyes and lay back listening to the beautiful music.  Suddenly he realised that there really were voices singing.  Elvish voices.  His heart gave a leap, he recognised other sounds around him, echoing in his father’s hall.  He could feel the heat from a warm fire and smell the wood smoke.

 

He swallowed nervously.  He had returned, but how, and in what condition?  He cautiously opened his eyes and gasped. There was warm, flickering light, moving shadows.  It was the reflection of firelight high in the roof of the cavern above his head.  He turned his head slightly and saw a pale, blurry figure by his side.

 

“Estel?”

 

*****

 

Aragorn knelt by the side of his friend, his heart broken.  Images flashed through his mind of Legolas by his side, laughing, fighting, watching his back, rescuing him from danger and then more recent, sadder memories of him hurt, helpless, broken.  He bowed his head silently and wept.

 

“Namárië, Legolas.” He sobbed.

 

“ Estel?” Came a croaking whisper.

 

Aragorn looked up to see the clear, blue eyes of his friend.

 

“L.....Legolas?  Y.....You are awake?”  He stammered, breathless with shock.

 

“It would appear so.” Grinned the elf.  “Why are you looking so sad?”

 

“Why am I looking so.....?  Why am I ‘looking’ so sad!  Legolas, can you see me?” Aragorn shouted, causing King Thranduil to rush to his son’s bedside.

 

“Yes, Estel, I can.  Though I would have liked the first thing I saw after such a long time to be  a little more beautiful.”  He laughed.

 

“Legolas, my son!  How is this possible?” Cried his Thranduil, pulling his child into his arms.

 

Legolas embraced his father, holding him tightly.  “I do not really know.”  The King let go of his son a little, searching his face.  He could see that there was a great deal that the prince was keeping to himself for the moment, but that something had happened to change him in some way.  He smiled.  It did not really matter, Legolas was back, and could see again.  That was what was important.  He had no doubt that his son would tell him more in time.

 

The mournful lament being sung by the elves changed to a joyous song of praise as the company realised what had happened and within moments food and wine were brought into the hall and celebrations broke out.  Aragorn watched as Legolas grew stronger by the minute, the colour coming back into his face, his eyes sparkling with life and he gave a silent thanks to Ilúvatar. 

 

*****

 

Some time later that evening Legolas sat with his father and closest friend and told them all that had happened to him. All except the things that Vairë had said about Aragorn, that knowledge he kept to himself.  Thranduil was amazed that Legolas had spoken with one of the Queens of the Valar and he now understood why his son had appeared to be changed, for one did not meet such a being and return unaltered.  From now on, Legolas would always carry a hint of the blessed realm of Valinor about his presence.

 

After sending word of Legolas’ miraculous healing to Lord Elrond, Aragorn remained in Mirkwood for several weeks until at last the time came for him to return to Imladris before the winter snows closed the pass over the mountains.

 

Aragorn sat mounted on his horse ready to make the journey home and Legolas stood beside him, patting the creature’s neck and saying his farewells.

 

“Take care on the journey my friend.”

 

“I will, Legolas.  I doubt we will meet again until next spring.”

 

“I promise I will come and visit again as soon as the way is clear.”

 

“Please tell your father this time!” Laughed Aragorn.

 

“I shall!”  Said Legolas, somewhat guiltily.  He looked up at the human and took his hand.  “Thank you, my friend, for all your help, and for not losing hope.  You were not given the name ‘Estel’ in vain.” He said softly.

 

Aragorn smiled down at the elf.  “I could not lose you, Legolas.  Who would be there to warn me of wolves and orcs and wargs and.....”

 

“Enough!  Am I simply some sort of alarm system?” Said the elf pretending to be hurt.

 

“No, you are my friend.” Said Aragorn simply, and with that he turned his horse and rode away pausing once to look back and wave as he rounded the bend in the road.  He travelled home with a happy and content heart, planning all sorts of adventures for the next time he saw Legolas Greenleaf.

 

 

 

THE END