Title: Iston (I know)

By: Chloe (the elvish, angst-loving, enthusiast.)

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Feedback: evenstar47@hotmail.com

Rated: PG-13 (for *major* angst, and violence)

Summery: Aragorn and Legolas take a hunting trip through Mirkwood, when they stumble across an ancient grudge that causes deep pain to Legolas. Why can he not hear Aragorn? Why does he not look him in the eye? And will Elrond be able to save him?

Spoilers: Nope! Don’t think so…

Disclaimers: Aragorn, Legolas, Mirkwood, and any other recognizable characters or places (and the songs “A Elbereth Githoniel” and “The old walking song”) are J.R.R. Tolkien’s *only*! I don’t have permission to use them, but no one is paying me for this, so that’s okay.

The language of Elvish, Sinderen, is Tokien’s too. Also, you might want to note, that I am not super at translating it, and apologize for any mistranslations. I don’t suppose it matters *that* much, but if you are looking for a Learning Elvish course, this isn’t the place to start. ;)

Disclaimer Notes: All of the events in this story are completely made-up. I couldn’t find a way to incorporate them into Tolkien’s world, so I did my best to write them as if they *could* have occurred, but no one would necessarily make note of them. I’m sorry if they don’t line up well with the events of The Lord of the Rings, but I mostly wrote this for enjoyment, and never planned on making it *entirely* realistic.

Dedication: To Sarah (the bookish, plausibility-mad, realist) for saying my writing was wonderful, and my plot was *not* completely and totally ridiculous…before you had even read it! You always make me feel good! : )

To Hannah-Shmallow-Siri-Elrohir etc. (the crazy, starry-eyed, visionary) for being a goof-ball for me when I got writers block. You always make me laugh! :D

And to Cassia (the anonymous, torture-fic writer) and Siobhan (the mute, mush shadow) For coming up with the Mellon Chronicles, and making something great out of over-looked friendship. Thank you for inspiring me! :)

Note: This story includes MAJOR angst. If you *really* don’t like that, I suggest you not read this. If you like angst, like I do *evil grin* then you should enjoy this…at least, I hope you do! ;)

// marks are elvish translation

Example:

Iston

//I know//

* marks are italics.

Istó n

(I know)

Chapter 1

Something Amiss

The trees moaned softly in protest to the light wind. The young grass ruffled with every breeze, and the air was cool and clear. All was peaceful. Quiet. Perfect. A clear stream curled around small hills of fresh flowers, grass and a generous amount of various other wild vegetation.

The leaves of every tree had an orange tinge, due to the Mirkwood sun-set. It was a lovely one, dominated by red, but also tinted with a suggestion of orange. It was also tangled with wisps of yellow left over from the sunrise, and, as if on an after-thought, the tiniest idea of pink.

The peace was broken only by a light foot that hit the new grass wrong. The small rustle that escaped the spot seemed to almost split the total silence. The figure looked up, wondering if anyone had heard it's misstep. No one. No one heard, for no one was there. He was completely alone.

Ever so cautiously, and quietly, he leaned down to the quiet water. It looked so clear and inviting. He had been walking all day, and there wasn't a soul for miles around. Touching the water slightly, he felt the cool, pure liquid, and it seemed to almost flow through him.

SHWOONT!

An arrow hit the ground not two meters away from his head. The creature’s head shot up, and he whirled around. With expert light-footedness, he gracefully fled the stream, disappearing into the forest's secure depths. Silence again.

It was not silent long, for there was soon a very strange sound on the wind. A soft snort. Almost a chuckle.

"Don’t say anything." Came a grouchy voice from among the trees surrounding the stream.

There was nothing for awhile, and then a voice heavy with controlled laughter murmured "You...missed."

A man stepped out from the trees, brushing his cloak of all the torn grass and leaves. "I said don't say anything! You never listen to me."

Another figure stepped from the other side of the clearing, also brushing some brambles and leaves from his long, golden hair. His face looked barley controlled, as he tried valiantly to avoid laughing.

The man crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at his companion. "I know it’s just killing you, keeping that in, so go ahead."

The other merely laughed lightly and shook his head, almost satisfying the mirth inside. "Oh Strider. What in the world am I going to do with you?"

"Now then," Aragorn pointed a finger at his friend, "I *did* sneak up on him, did I not? Admit it, he didn’t know I was there."

"It is true." Legolas nodded, smiling fondly at his momentarily cantankerous friend. "But you still need target practice."

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "Do not remind me of my *lack* of talent." He sighed, shrugging off some of the embarrassment of missing such an easy target. It would have been nice to have shot the stag, seeing it was his first try since they'd left Thranduil's halls to take this hunting exercise. He looked around at the towering Mirkwood trees, and in an obvious change of subject, murmured, "So, where are we off to now?"

"The camp." Legolas nodded, easily excepting the change.

"I should like to find something to eat before it gets dark though." Aragorn pointed out. "I would rather not starve as a result of this exercise."

"It’s all right. My father equipped me with some extra food, just in case."

Aragorn's eyes snapped to Legolas'. They had journeyed a the entire day into the woods, carrying a few rations for the trip, but they had finished that before they started the hunt.

"Why would he do that?" he asked incredulously.

Legolas shrugged, trying to look indifferent. "Just in case." He repeated.

The ranger groaned. "Great. It is as if he does not trust me to shoot a simple meal." He looked at Legolas again, and seeing the mirthful glint in the elf's eyes, hastily raised a finger. "Don't you say a word, Legolas Greenleaf."

The elf prince bit his lip to keep the smile on his face from getting any bigger, and simply nodded. He didn't trust himself to say anything anyway.

And with that, they trudged off into the undergrowth of Mirkwood again.

**********

Legolas put the last of the fruit and meat into his horse’s saddle-bag. He looked up at his friend across the fire.

"If I had not missed, we'd be eating fresh venison tonight."

Legolas sighed. Aragorn had not gotten over his miss. "Oh lie down, and go to sleep, Strider." He smiled at the half-serious glare the ranger threw him as he curled up under his cape, and lay down.

"Silvan elf." Aragorn muttered.

"Stubborn Dùnadan." Legolas retorted. Aragorn couldn't help but smile as he closed his eyes, and let the fire light fade from his vision. “It’s good to be together in solitude.” He sighed groggily.

Legolas lay down under his cloak as well, and nodded towards his companion. “It is indeed, Aragorn. It is indeed.”

**********

Legolas ran, but his feet weren't under him. He shoved branches out of his way, but they weren't there. He leapt over rocks, but he never left the ground. Hard as he tried, he couldn't run. Couldn’t get away from the feeling. Something ice-cold ran down the back of his neck. His head was pounding, and a terrible mist filled his mind. He couldn't think. He couldn't see. He stumbled blindly through the forest that wasn't there, trying desperately to hide from the unseen cold.

"Us nin er!" he shouted to the dark shadows that were cast by nothing. "Us nin! Us nin!”

//leave me alone// //leave me! leave me!//

"Gwiil, Legolas! Ea na gwiil!"

//peace, legolas! be at peace!//

Legolas sat up suddenly, and Aragorn had to jerk back to avoid getting the elf's head in his face. The elf looked around like a frightened child.

"Aragorn?"

"I am here Legolas." Aragorn whispered, moving over the elf again.

"Aragorn." Legolas sighed, and looked up at Aragorn. He stumbled back, eyes wide with terror as he stared at the human. "Aragorn. No! Please!"

"Legolas." Aragorn's face was creased with worry. "What is it?"

Legolas sat panting, eyes closed as he tried to slow his labored breathing. As he did, he inhaled the Mirkwood air, and his mind seemed to clear some. The world around him still seemed foggy, but he continued to gulp in the fragrant air. He *could* breath.

The elf looked up at Aragorn again, and closed his eyes abruptly. "Strider,” he whispered the personal nickname, trying to hold onto it. “please- please tell me that I am your friend."

Aragorn's face changed from worry to confusion. Something was very wrong with his friend. Legolas never asked for such a thing. He was not a proud elf, at least for a wood elf, but not a childish one either, and had not asked much of Aragorn before. But still, for whatever reason, Aragorn felt that Legolas really did need to hear it. He sighed. "I am your friend, Legolas."

"Please Strider."

Aragorn inched forward, and put a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "I am your friend Legolas."

"Strider, I know this sounds silly. I do not wish to worry you, but please. I *need* to hear it."

Aragorn looked intently down at the elf. What was wrong with him? He had said it twice now. Had Legolas gone deaf?

Perhaps he needed some true comfort. Aragorn didn't understand, but maybe…maybe he just didn't need to.

He wrapped his arms tightly around his friend's shoulders, and whispering softly, he spoke the words in the grey tongue.

"Eam layaa mellon, Legolas."

//I am your friend, legolas.//

Legolas sighed and relaxed in the man's embrace. "Thank you." He whispered in the same tongue. "Hantach."

Aragorn sat for a long ten minutes, with the elf still lying in his arms. "Legolas, you should get some rest." He murmured at length.

Legolas' eyes were still closed, and Aragorn hoped he was not sleeping. Not because he didn’t wish to awake him as much as the fact that elves slept with their eyes closed only in deep pain or eternal sleep.

He soon realized that he wasn’t sleeping, but Aragorn could feel his friend shaking slightly, a sure sign that his body was tired. This too worried the ranger. Elves were almost never tired, and when they were, it was only from a serious lack of sleep. Legolas had been well-rested when they’d left Thranduil's halls just a day before. There was something wrong with the elf prince. Very wrong.

Legolas slowly looked up at Aragorn, but his eyes immediately snapped shut again. "You are right, my *friend*" Legolas emphasized the word, as if he didn't really believe it.

Aragorn shook his head in total confusion. "Legolas. Please, what is wrong?"

"I cannot know."

"What do you mean?"

"I just *cannot* know." Legolas repeated almost frustrated. Was Aragorn supposed to know what he was talking about?

"You mean you do not know what is wrong?"

"Yes. I know what is wrong." Legolas sighed. "I am so sorry Aragorn. I wish I could tell you."

"You can confide in me, Legolas. You always have."

"That is not what I mean." Legolas pulled an arm out from under Aragorn's grasp and put the hand softly on his shoulder. Aragorn noticed that the elf still didn't look him in the eye. "I do not-no - I *cannot* know what is wrong." He shook his head in frustration. "I have no understanding of what is wrong, but I know that it’s not real."

"What?"

"You. What my eyes see in you."

Aragorn shook Legolas slightly. It seemed as if the elf gone insane. He was making absolutely no sense! "Legolas, I don’t understand. What do you see in me?"

Again, Legolas shook his head. "A great many things, Strider. I do not wish to tell you. I- cannot know what I would tell you. I don’t think I can explain."

"Try." Aragorn begged. He longed to know what was wrong with the prince, and was fully aware that he could not help him until he knew.

"I am sorry, Strider. I cannot."

Aragorn shook his head and sighed. "It’s all right. Perhaps you will feel differently tomorrow. Perhaps you are only tired." It wasn’t all right, and he doubted very much that it was only a lack of sleep that caused the normally sound elf to go uncharacteristically mad. But it made Aragorn feel better saying the insincere words, as if everything would be that easy.

"Really, Strider. I *am* sorry. I wish I could tell you, but-" Legolas shook his head in frustration.

"But I do not know myself. At least, not really."

"It is alright, my friend. You just need-"

"What else can I say? Shadows cloud my mind, and I cannot seem to explain what I know myself. Or what I might know."

It took most of Aragorn's self-control not to shake Legolas again. He was completely ignoring the ranger’s words, like he had a few minutes ago. The elf was sick. Very sick. What could he do? Even his many years as a, itinerant ranger had not prepared him for this - whatever this was.

He looked around at the dark, forbidding forest. It was too dangerous to try and take his confused friend anywhere very far. He realized with mounting frustration that he'd have to wait till morning.

"Baurach seere."

//you need rest.//

Legolas nodded, and tried to rise, but his knees suddenly buckled, and with a groan, he sank to the ground again.

Aragorn put his arms around the elf's waist, and tenderly hoisted him to his feet. Walking ever so slowly, he supported the elf back to the fire-side. He gently laid him onto the ground, and covered him with his forest green cloak. "Rest, Legolas."

Legolas sighed, and rolled over under the cloak. Slowly, his eyes became unfocused, and Aragorn knew he was asleep. He was watching the elf closely, when suddenly, his friend stirred, jerking violently in his sleep, and his eyes snapped closed.

Aragorn tried to shove away the discouragement of seeing his friend sleeping in pain, and returned to his cloak as well, lying down underneath it. But unlike his friend, sleep did not come to him.

The pale eyes snapping shut at the sight of the ranger, the frightened look on his face when he awoke, the gasps of pain that escaped his perfectly healthy body... The memory of all of Legolas' strange behavior haunted Aragorn. Legolas wasn't sick: his body heat was normal, and his heart had beat at a steady rhythm as Aragorn held him. No, he was not bodily sick in the least. There was something else wrong. Something he couldn't discover. Something beyond the normal realm of possibilities…

Chapter 2

Lennathon

It took nearly three hours for Aragorn to fall asleep, and even when he did, it was dark and troubled. Legolas somehow managed to be just around the corner every time his dreams took a turn for the better. The elf was always standing there, staring wide-eyed at Aragorn, and then closing his eyes tight, and running. Aragorn told him to come back, but Legolas did not listen. No, he *could* not listen...

The dreams - rather nightmares - were suddenly shattered by a shout.

"No! No! Let…let me…"

Aragorn leapt to his feet, and ran once again to Legolas' side. "Legolas. Legolas! Awake!"

Legolas' eyes stared wildly at the sky, as sleep slowly left him. He blinked. "No.' He whispered.

"Legolas." Aragorn whispered softly, brushing the elf's cheek with his knuckles. He was very disturbed to see that Legolas flinched at the touch, and attempted to sit. Gasping, he sank to the single-cloak bed again.

"No!" he panted, terrified.

"Legolas! Please!"

Legolas closed his eyes, and breathed so slowly, it took a moment for Aragorn to see he was breathing at all. He opened his eyes, but did not look at the ranger over him.

"I must."

"You must what?" Aragorn asked urgently, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. Legolas was speaking nonsense again, and Aragorn didn't think he could go through another insane conversation with him.

"You must what Legolas?" Aragorn repeated.

"I-" Legolas didn't look at Aragorn, but slowly reached his hand up, and touched the man's face. "I am sorry, my friend." He whispered. His voice still held a hint of fear, but his tone was also kind, and even slightly cheerful. "I must know."

Know. Legolas had been saying know, not no. It didn't make that much difference to Aragorn. This whole thing made little sense either way.

"Know," Aragorn echoed. "Know what?"

"Anything." Legolas sighed, staring at the stars. "The stars. The- hope..." Legolas struggled in his own mind, battling against himself, looking for the answers.

Aragorn put his hand on the prince's, but when the elf stiffened, he took the gesture back.

"You know that I am your fr-"

"Every time." Legolas sighed. "Every time I have it, it slips before I can know it's there. Before I even know what it is."

"You are my friend-"

"You do not understand, but I am afraid that really neither do I. I wish I could explain it to you, Strider, and I will in time. Just be patient with me, will you?"

Aragorn was trying very hard to be patient, but the elf kept cutting him off! He knew he could hear him, but every once and awhile it was as if Legolas had momentarily gone completely deaf.

He tried again. "You are my friend, Legolas."

Silence. Had he gotten through this time?

Legolas sighed a long, sad sigh. "I wish the stars were out. That would help, I think."

Aragorn pushed aside the fact that he had once again ignored him, and turned to a new concern as he looked up. The dark sky was dappled with tiny jewels of stars shining down on them. He looked down at the young elf, and touched his forehead with the back of his hand. Legolas sucked his breath in sharply as if he'd been hit in the ribs.

"Don't." He pleaded softly. "Please don't try."

"Try what?"

"To comfort me."

Aragorn drew his hand back, and leaned over the elf, looking at his eyes. They looked normal, and dilated properly as they stared up at the sky, but they were sad, and full of pain.

"Legolas," Aragorn murmured kindly. "The stars are out tonight."

Legolas swallowed a lump in his throat. "Of course." He nearly choked.

"Legolas-"

"Go to sleep, Strider. I think it is worse with you here."

The ranger nodded, and turned away as if he understood. But he did not return to bed. He instead, grabbed their saddle bags, and put them on their horses. Clasping his cloak back on, he turned to the shivering elf.

"Come."

Legolas, rolled over, and Aragorn's heart nearly shattered at sight of him. There were tears that, though the elf had been brave enough not to shed, were still there, clouding his pale blue vision. When Legolas looked at Aragorn, his eyes closed again, and the gathering tears flowed down his cheeks.

"Where?" He croaked.

"To Rivendell."

"Where?"

Aragorn squinted at his companion, and then shook his head in wonder. "Never mind. Elrond will take care of you."

"Elrond." Legolas let the word slip around in his mind. "Rivendell." Then he shook his head. "I remember them, but I- I do not know them. I suppose it is because Rivendell is a place of peace, and Elrond a joy-giver. A healer. I *cannot* know them."

"What do you mean you cannot *know* them?" Aragorn demanded desperately. It was almost as if his friend did this to be annoying.

"Just what I said."

"Come Legolas." Aragorn saw the need to take him more then ever. Not only did he make no sense, but he thought he did. He knelt beside his friend, and lifted him to his feet. Legolas moaned at the gesture, but Aragorn had given up noticing. There was nothing bodily wrong with Legolas, and if it was only mental pain he felt, then Aragorn could cause no damage to the perfectly healthy body by raising him to his feet.

But not wanting to cause the elf intentional pain, the ranger walked slowly towards the horses. Aragorn noticed that Legolas hadn't flinched at his touch as he usually did. This puzzled him, but he was a little relieved. He hadn't realized till now how much it had hurt to see Legolas refusing his comfort. But the prince still wouldn’t look at him.

Ever so carefully, he lifted Legolas onto his horse, and then climbed up behind him, steadying the elf as he went.

Once the two of them were on the horse, Aragorn grabbed the reins of Legolas' horse, and attached them to his saddle horn. He pulled Legolas' cloak tighter around the shivering elf. "It's going to be a bumpy ride." He warned, whispering softly in Legolas' ear.

His friend nodded, and tensed a bit. Aragorn saw no time to waste, and lean a little forward towards the horse. "Noro lim, Horthor!"

The horse tossed it's great head, and took off at a steady gallop through the dark woods, towing the other horse with him.

They rode for almost an hour before Legolas finally relaxed, and leaned against Aragorn's chest. His heart beat was steady, but his breathing rasped and hitched. Every once and awhile, Horthor would take a sharp turn to avoid a tree, and Legolas would jerk and moan.

Aragorn went stoically on. With one hand holding the reins, and the other clasped tightly around his friend's chest, he rode for two more hours. Finally, he felt the horses start to tire, and slowed to a canter, which eventually melted into a trot.

He leaned over so he could see Legolas. The elf prince's eyes were half closed, and unfocused. He seemed to be in a limbo, hovering between sleep and waking. Unconsciousness and consciousness. Death and life. Which one it was, Aragorn didn't know. Somehow, he didn't want to know. He felt Legolas heartbeat against his own: they continued to beat in rhythm.

"Legolas do you hear me?" Aragorn murmured in the elf's ear.

Legolas' eyes didn't move. The only movement from him was his chest as it rose and fell. The wind picked up a lock of blond hair, fiddled with it, and then, as if it had grown bored, let the golden strand go, and it fell across the elf's face. Aragorn moved the strand of hair, his fingers barely brushing Legolas' cheek. But his friend flinched, and tried to move away.

What on Middle Earth was going on?

**********

A wind blew over the dead trees around them. It was neither cool nor warm. It was so hot - it was ice. So freezing cold, it burned like fire. The world spun around Legolas as he and Aragorn rode on through the forest. His heart pounded in his ears. He heard cruel voices, shouting. But they were familiar. And one was Aragorn's.

He looked desperately up at the sky again, but no stars shone; o moon lighted the dark forest of Mirkwood. A great nothingness of twisted, dead plants stretched out in front of him. Nothing. Dead.

"Know." He whispered, and his voice echoed on the cold, burning air. "I must know."

Suddenly, the horse slowed, and he felt someone was looking at him. He knew who it was. He couldn't bare to raise his eyes. "Legolas do you hear me?" A deep, angry voice growled. "Hear me! Hear me! Hear me!' it echoed through the elf's keen ears.

His hair blew in the wind, and danced across his face. As the voice continued to echo "Hear me! Hear me!" He felt a hard blow to the side of his face, and he tried to move away. "Hear me! Hear me!"

"Leave me!" Legolas shouted at the echoing words. "Leave me!"

**********

Aragorn looked down at his friend, in bewilderment. "Legolas, please!"

"Leave me." Legolas' voice went from a shout to a desperate whisper. "Please, leave me."

Aragorn looked up despairingly at the stars above him, and let a discouraged sigh escape his tired body. He allowed his tongue to slip into elvish in his desperation.

"Legolas, umin isto man an koal."

//legolas, I do not know what to do.//

Legolas shook all over, not from the icy chill that licked his skin, but the impenetrable cold inside. The one Aragorn couldn't warm with a cloak.

"Umin isto man an koal." Aragorn repeated, his crestfallen words striking the elf deep.

//I do not know what to do.//

Legolas was silent a moment. Then, he pulled one of his arms free of the cloak around him, and placed his hand on Aragorn's knee behind him. His voice was a soft, familiar whisper, as he said

"Lir anem."

//sing for me.//

Yet another simple request. But this time, it did not worry Aragorn. He was glad to do anything for his friend. He pulled Legolas against his chest again, and softly began to sing.

"Tulum an ilman

//Take me to the stars//

Nyarim lindeler

//Tell me of their song//

Enyaarem hanya lir

//That I may learn to sing//

Laitar narquelion

//Their praise to fading sun//

Meralam ilqua harma

//I want not all these treasures//

Maralam uuva haran

//I want not to be king//

Eram mere kana ilman

//I only want to see the stars//

Eram mere lir!

//I only want to sing!//

Legolas sank into the song. The total relief of the words, the sound of Aragorn's soft voice singing the grey tongue, the beautiful familiarity of it. He felt as though he'd never heard anything more beautiful in his life. It could not have been more magnificent if the stars themselves were singing.

As Aragorn felt Legolas relax again, immense joy washed over him. His arm tightened around his friend’s chest again, as if to tell him he was safe, that he could truly rest now.

Legolas slowly did so, drifting off into a wonderful dreamless sleep. He felt as if he were sitting high in an old oak tree: it's branches reached up to the sky and tried to touch it. The whole world stretched for millions of miles beneath him, and the only sound in the world, was Aragorn's soft voice singing "Lennathon”. I will sing.

Uuvam kena kalad morth

//I would see the light in darkness//

Uuvam baur laanad

//I would need not anything//

Eram uuva kena ilman

//If only I will see the stars//

Eram lennathon

//If only I will sing!//

Aragorn sung the whole song, and when he'd finished the last verse, it seemed as though the words still echoed on the night air.

He leaned over, and saw Legolas, his gaze fixed at nothing, staring into a blank wall of sleep. Aragorn could have laughed, so relieved was he to see Legolas sleeping with his eyes open.

When the ringing of the song stopped, Legolas' gaze started to focus, and he groaned as the familiar nightmares came to take him away.

This was not lost on Aragorn, and he was determined to let his friend sleep. Once again, the trees around them threw the words of the elvish tongue through their branches and out into the air. And as Aragorn sang, he felt Legolas sigh, and fall into sleep again.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
//o elbereth star-kindler//

silivren penna míriel
//white glittering slants down sparkling like jewels//

o menel aglar elenath!
//from the firmament the glory of the star-host!//

Na-chaered palan-díriel

//To-remote distance far-having gazed//

o galadhremmin ennorath,

//from the tree-tangled middle-lands,//

Fanuilos, le linnathon
//fanuilos, to thee I will sing//

nef aear, sí nef aearon!
//on this side of ocean, here on this side of the great ocean! //

And on the elvish songs went until Aragorn could no longer sing and keep Hothor at a steady pace. But Legolas was safely into a deep sleep. Far from where the fear could reach him. Aragorn's efforts had been well worth it.

Chapter 3

Man of Anger, Elf of Despondency

"Oh, Strider. Why do you not sleep on your own will? Why must you do so much for me?"

Aragorn awoke with a start, and saw Legolas framed in the sunlight blazing down on them. "Legolas!" He tried to shout, but his throat was so sore, it came out strangled, and hoarse.

"Sh, ea na gwiil, nin mellon."

//sh, be at peace, my friend.//

Legolas whispered softly, and the words calmed Aragorn remarkably. The ranger looked around as best he could, for his limbs were stiff, and his movements limited. He was lying on the ground next to a long-since-dead fire, and looking across the dark ashes, he could see the horses standing beside the trees a ways away from him, looking rested and watered. He moved his fingers slowly, but there was no feeling in them. Sighing, he lay his dizzy head on the ground again. He must have been awhile longer without water than he thought, judging by the sudden nausea that swept over him.

Legolas looked down at the human, and smiled, speaking in a humorous tone. "Your throat is dry as a year without rain. You didn't even stop long enough to drink from a flagon just next to you, you stubborn Dú nadan." His mirthful voice became a little more distant and serious, but nonetheless kind. "You sang all night to me." He murmured, running a hand over the ranger's rustic features. "Every time I slipped into the dark again, every time fear threatened my heart to the point of despair, I could hear you singing. You have no idea what that did for me."

Aragorn only smiled. "I cannot sing as you." He managed to breath.

Legolas smiled. "True," the single moment of mirth was enough for Aragorn, and he smiled back at the elf's jest. "But it was enough." Legolas concluded, pulling his hand back again.

Aragorn suddenly noticed something about the elf he hadn't in his moment of surprise over his surroundings. "You look me in the eye again, Legolas."

"Yes," Legolas smiled sadly "It pains me deeply to do so, but not seeing you at all, I believe, is worse."

"Legolas please." Aragorn whispered. "I must know what-" he cut off in a highly painful coughing fit that wracked his whole body.

"Don’t speak now, my friend," Legolas reproved kindly, "you need water. I fear you have sung yourself hoarse."

"I fear you are right." Aragorn gave a wry smile "But I also believe you were worth it."

"Hantach."

//thank you//

Legolas stood up, grabbing a water flagon as he went, and began to walk towards the small trickle that ran past the campsite. Aragorn had not noticed the stream before, and then also saw that was where the horses stood.

Legolas stopped mid-stride, and turned, "And I would do the same for you."

"Iston." Aragorn smiled.

//I know//

Legolas looked at Aragorn blankly. His eyes were wide, and their blue gaze seemed to look through Aragorn. The ranger stared back at his friend, familiar worry creeping up on him.

Suddenly, Legolas tore his gaze from Aragorn, as if he had seen something he desperately wished he had not.

"Legolas-" But Aragorn was caught in another coughing fit.

"Your water." Legolas said, his eyes snapping back to Aragorn's again. "I will get it."

Aragorn could only nod for fear that he would cough if he tried to speak again. He watched his friend's back as his knelt to fill the flagon with water from the fresh stream. Legolas seamed to take more time than was needed to fill it, and Aragorn knew that he was thinking. What had he said wrong?

Legolas returned with the water after five minutes of kneeling beside the stream. He helped Aragorn sit up half-way, and gave him a drink. The water stung Aragorn's sore throat, and he couldn't help coughing again.

Legolas looked very disturbed. "I am sorry. Is it not clean?"

"No, it is clean, but I am afraid my throat has been without water long enough to become a stranger to it." Aragorn smiled dryly "And getting re-acquainted can be painful."

Legolas smiled again, and shook his head. "Do you rangers never stop talking?"

Aragorn made as if to reply, but Legolas shoved him the flagon again. "Never mind. Drink." He instructed, unable to hide his laughter behind the words.

Aragorn obeyed, and tried again to drink from the bottle. This time, it didn't hurt as much, and he managed to swallow without coughing. Eventually he survived finishing it.

Legolas shook the empty bottle, "I'll refill it."

"No, Legolas." Aragorn put his hand on the elf's knee to prevent him from arising to refill the bottle, and pushing himself further up on his elbows.

"You are dehydrated." Legolas reminded him.

"I’ve had enough to talk, and that is all I want right now, my friend. I need answers."

Legolas set the flagon on the ground, and moved the hand that had held it to his forehead, sighing. "Oh, Strider. Can't you see that *I* do not even know?"

"Yes," Aragorn nodded "I can see that you don't know what is causing this pain I see in you." Aragorn leaned forward, whispering to his friend in a familiar language that he could truly understand.

"Ananta itoch in naeg. Lav-nin thank nach."

//but you know the pain. let me share it with you.//

Legolas sighed, and finally raised his eyes to meet Aragorn's. "When I look at you…I see" he paused, taking a deep breath. "I see anger. Hatred. Resentment. I see you glaring at me. When you touch my skin, I feel you striking me.” He shook his head in emphasis, “And I cannot hear your words of comfort."

"So when you look at me, you see that I- I am angry with you?"

"Yes."

Aragorn shook his head in disbelief. "But it is not so, Legolas. I don't look upon you in hatred."

"I...know." Legolas' voice was low, and distraught. Somehow Aragorn felt that he didn't know - that he merely hoped. Legolas shook his head ever so slowly, his blond hair swishing smoothly from side to side with the motion. "I cannot help what my eyes see. One who depends so greatly on their eyes cannot deny the truth they send. How can I disbelieve what they tell me? But somehow...I hope that it is not so."

Aragorn could not think of what to say. This new revelation was almost worse than when he'd just wondered what was wrong with his friend. But he had to be strong. For Legolas' sake.

"What else?" He pressed.

"Strider, please." Legolas pleaded. "This hurts more than I can say. It is hard enough to bare this burden alone. I do not wish to relive it with you."

"But you are no longer bearing it alone." Aragorn promised. “Tulga-garo, Legolas."

//take courage, legolas.//

Legolas looked away from the ranger to the stream. "I see no beauty," he continued. "I see a river of dark water, with dead, twisted trees all around it. I see fog, but not of humidity; it’s like living in a dark cloud that will not break and send rain."

Aragorn looked with a worried eye from the fresh spring, to the tall blooming trees, to the cloudless summer sky, then back to his friend.

"And last night," Legolas choked, 'I- I could not..." Legolas shook his head vigorously, and arose, grabbing the water bottle. "I will fetch you some more water."

"Legolas." Aragorn leaned forward, and placed his hand on the elf's knee again, but Legolas was quicker, and already on his feet, walking towards the stream. Aragorn shook his head in frustration, and rose up after his companion. He ran to the elf’s side, and stepped out in front of him, though his body screamed at him for doing so.

"No, Legolas." He said stubbornly. "I cannot let you go alone like this."

"Aragorn,"

"No!" Aragorn repeated, placing his hand on the elf's shoulder. "I will not let you carry this burden alone. Please, Legolas." Aragorn pleaded, switching without knowing it to elvish again.

“Mavron na annoch gwiil."

//I want to give you peace.//

"I could not see the stars." Legolas whispered. "I could not hear their song. And when I closed my eyes in sleep, I saw..." Legolas' breathing hitched in his throat, but he pressed on. "I saw my father, dead. I saw the woods of Mirkwood on fire - y people, my home, destroyed. But I felt that I was to blame. I knew that it was I who had destroyed them… and they despised me for it." Legolas' voice finally cracked, and Aragorn heard tears hidden behind his words. "My father would not look at me when he died. He died in my arms..." He shook his head, but refused to close his eyes, for fear that his tears would fall, "But he would not look at me. His last words were, 'You do not know what you have done.'"

"But-" Aragorn managed to drag himself out of dead silence. "But it was only a dream. That you know."

"Yes. But my mind told me it was reality. And I've had the dream every time I try to close my eyes for peace." His tear-clouded gaze seemed to clear for a moment as one comfort hit him. "Except for last night. Last night, every time my father began to die, the vision faded away, and I was on a grassy hill, looking at the stars…as I listened to you sing."

"You are right." Aragorn whispered, laying his other hand on Legolas' shoulder. "I couldn't have imagined that it would do such a thing. And I am sorry that I forced you to relive your nightmares."

"It is well, my friend, that you did." Legolas sighed, the worst of the re-telling over. "And I thank you that you pressed me to do so."

"I will share this burden with you." Aragorn assured.

*********

Legolas saw Aragorn's lips move, twitching with a hidden sneer. A sneer that only Legolas could see through his lying eyes.

"I cannot hear you." Legolas told him softly.

*********

Aragorn remembered Legolas' words. "...I cannot hear your words of comfort."

"What can I do?" He whispered.

Legolas turned away, and stared into his nightmare world, saying nothing.

Aragorn shook his head, and let go of Legolas' shoulders. He paced a few feet away from the elf, and thought a moment. Yes, he knew what needed to be done. He turned to the horses, his decision made. Mounting Horoth, he grabbed Lint, Legolas' horse's, reigns.

"Come. We'd better head out for Rivendell again."

"Aragorn, I do not think that your father can heal this."

"And I do not think that you want to *walk* back to your home, for I am taking Lint with me. He has all the food in his saddle bags." The ranger smiled, and continued, turning the horses around "I supposed you could hop on, and join me."

Aragorn's jest was not lost on Legolas, and the elven prince smiled, mounting his horse swiftly, and booting him into a canter. Aragorn followed suit, and soon the two friend were making their steady way towards the Misty Mountains.

Chapter 4

Lying Eyes

He didn’t hurt. He did *not* hurt! Well, he did, but somehow he knew he didn’t. Legolas leaned back slightly in the saddle, trying to will his muscles to stop throbbing. He had in no way injured himself, he was just fine!

He felt Lint slow noticeably. He couldn’t meet the eye that looked down at him. “Are you in pain again?”

“Strider, I am fine. We shall never reach Rivendell if we continue this uneven pace. We have not the time to stop every time I feel pain.”

“I will not force you to ride in agony, Legolas.” Aragorn responded stubbornly.

Legolas shook his head, and his golden hair tossed slightly. “I am not in agony. I have no pain.”

“But then, what is it that troubles you?”

The elf seemed loathed to give yet another nonsense answer, but he knew his friend all too well. Aragorn would not give up until he had all the truth Legolas could tell.

“I feel pain, but it is not pain I feel.”

Aragorn waited a moment, trying to decipher what exactly the elf was talking about.

“It is-” Legolas continued, seeing the confusion on his friend’s face. “It is like when I see you. That is not what you really are, but my mind says it is. I am not in pain, but my mind says I am. It should cause me no harm to ride in pain.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t bodily harm you to ride,” Aragorn looked intently over at the elf. “But it tortures me more than I can say, to see you in pain, real or no.”

“Strider-” Legolas shook his head again, and Aragorn could tell he felt terrible, making Aragorn feel so. “Let us just continue on. I should rather be riding in the pain and getting somewhere, then sitting here going nowhere. I feel pain anywhere I am. Anything I do. Let us just continue.”

Aragorn consented, reluctantly. “Hold on, my friend.”

Whether Legolas could here the words of comfort or not, Aragorn didn’t know. He simply booted his horse into a gallop again, and they continued their long journey.

*********

Aragorn slowed Horoth’s pace, and looked around. He felt Legolas follow suit next to him. “It is getting dark. Shall we camp?”

Legolas nodded, unable to hide his artificial pain and fatigue anymore.

Aragorn’s eyes pierced the darkness around him, and finally, they lighted on a small indentation in the soft earth a little ways off. “How does that look to you, Legolas?”

Legolas followed Aragorn’s gaze. “Well, anything that is not a cave is fine in my eyes. Although, I doubt that what I see is accurate anyway.”

Aragorn simply took that as a yes, and steered Horoth into the small clearing, Lint not far behind.

The ranger went about finding broken tree branches, and dead leaves to ignite a fire, while Legolas took the saddle bags of food from Lint, and watered the two horses from a tiny stream, that was really little more than a trickle, not far from their encampment.

Aragorn returned to the spot, with an armload of wood.

“Rest Legolas.” He told the elf kindly. “I will start the fire.”

Aragorn pulled a stone of flint from one of Horthor’s saddle bags, and looked around for a good-sized rock.

“How far are we from Rivendell now?” Legolas sunk down to the ground, grateful to not be moving anymore.

Aragorn didn’t take his eyes off the rocks he started scratching them together over the dead leaves. “I would say about a few hour’s hard ride from the Misty Mountains. I believe we are almost out of Mirkwood.”

Silence a moment. Aragorn continued to scratch the rocks against each other, and finally got the hint of a spark.

“Aragorn, do you think your father will know what the problem is with me?”

“If he cannot,” Aragorn responded confidently. “No one can. He has healed you before, Legolas, I do believe he can do it again.”

“Yes, but this time there is nothing wrong with my body, and that is what he has healed in the past.”

Scratch. A slightly larger spark this time. “He is our only hope. If he cannot help you…” Aragorn sighed, angry with himself for being cornered into an unpleasant answer. Even though Legolas knew it full well, he hated to spell it out. “If he cannot help you, I do not know what I shall do.”

Legolas leaned back against the dirt wall behind him. “Neither do I.”

Scratch. A blue-wreathed spark touched and set flame to a few leaves. It was enough. Aragorn hastily put three pieces of wood, and some more leaves on. Soon, it was a substantial fire.

Aragorn leaned against the dirt as well, and stared across his handy-work. He watched sadly as the blurry figure of his friend closed his eyes and sighed. It was not a sigh of content, but exhaustion, worry, and perhaps sadness.

He stared a long time at the elf, watching as the smoke from the fire caused his pale image to swim and dance. “Hungry?” he asked quietly, barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

“No.” Came the wistful reply. Legolas opened his eyes again, his blue-gray gaze hit Aragorn. “Oh, Strider.”

“What?” Aragorn looked up from the fire.

“I believe this hurts you more than it does me.”

The ranger nodded slowly, pressing his fingers to his eyes, released a sigh. He then understood the feeling that had caused his friend to do so a moment ago. “I hate seeing you like this.” He almost whispered. “You have *never* been so-”

“Distant?” Legolas guessed.

“Vulnerable.”

Legolas nodded slowly. “I see.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Aragorn tried to amend. “I did not mean-”

“No, you are right.” Legolas dropped his gaze to the inferno of flames, watching as they licked hungrily at the wood, and easily devoured the leaves. “Worry not, my friend. I am glad that you would be honest with me. I never thought of it that way, but it must be so discouraging to see one who has been strong before become weak. You depend on me at times, do you not?”

“Yes.” He heard the other whisper.

Legolas nodded. “But now I depend on you, Aragorn. You are strong yourself, and more than that I depend on you because I trust you. Do not be afraid to lead.”

“I am no leader. I have not your wisdom, nor your knowledge, nor your courage. I am not who you are and I cannot help you the way you have helped me so many times.” Aragorn murmured bitterly.

“No, you cannot, that is so. But you are no worse, Aragorn, just different. You have helped me already: when you sang to me.”

There was a long silence, and Aragorn tried to listen to the words of comfort. He had to admit it now; Legolas was being so open and honest, he had to respond in kind. “I am afraid, Legolas: afraid that I cannot save you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“You will not lose me.” Legolas assured. “Even if I were to pass on, I would still be somewhere with you. Friendship does not waver at a wind, and a friendship like ours burns forever. Forever like an endless candle. Keep the candle burning my friend, and have no fear.”

Aragorn closed his eyes and nodded. As he did, he felt something damp slide down his cheeks. He hadn’t even noticed that the tears had gathered in his eyes.

Legolas watched as the silver tears reflected the fire.

Aragorn felt his eyes on him. “I still want you to stay with me, Legolas. Here. Right here.”

Legolas’ heart went out to the ranger sitting across from him. Suddenly, he realized that Aragorn no longer looked up at him in anger, but this almost hurt more to see him in sadness.

“Urin nallon, nin mellon. En er estel.”

//do not cry, my friend. There is yet hope//

Aragorn sighed. “Iston.” The ranger slowly looked up, and couldn’t tell whether his friend was blurry because of the smoke that rose from his fire, or the tears that still haunted his vision. Then he realized that Legolas no longer looked at him, but held his head in his hands.

“Legolas?”

The elf continued to press his hands hard against his temples, then, sat up straight. “I am well.”

Aragorn pinned him with look of disbelief.

“I am well.” Legolas repeated, with more confidence.

Aragorn stood up, and walked around the campfire. “No you are not.”

“Strider, I cannot-” But Legolas stopped mid-sentence, as Aragorn knelt next to him, a flagon of water in one hand, a piece of lemba in the other. “You cannot be well until you have eaten and had some rest.” he stood up and smiled. “Honestly, you elves think your immortality keeps you from starvation!”

Legolas smiled back, and though he still wasn’t very hungry, ate the familiar food gratefully. Despite what the ranger said, Legolas thought, Aragorn was the perfect leader. Someday, he thought musingly, maybe Aragorn would see that as well.

**********

Aragorn opened his eyes, and stared for awhile at the dark sky, speckled with stars. He felt such peace, such beauty. The stars seemed to sing ancient songs to his heart…Legolas could not see them, or hear them. Dear Legolas, what could he do?

Aragorn turned beneath his cloak again. He felt powerless to do anything, frightened by his friend’s vulnerability, and his own.

Legolas. Suddenly Aragorn realized that the elf was not sleeping as he had at first thought. Legolas stared at that sky too, but there was no joy in his eyes. “I miss them.” He mused quietly, making Aragorn jump.

Although he knew that Legolas was awake, the sudden noise was strange on the night air. “Miss who?”

“The stars.”

Aragorn nodded sadly. “You shall see them again.”

“Can you see Eärendil?”

“Yes.” He nodded, looking up at the familiar star of hope “It shines brightly this evening.”

“Then there is hope for this night.”

“Indeed.” Aragorn responded, glad to hear optimism from the elf.

“You were not named Estel in vain.” Legolas smiled softly.

Aragorn was thoughtful a moment. “Legolas, at the campfire this evening, when I said ist-”

“Shh!” Legolas leapt out from under his cloak, and in a lightning motion, had his bow in his hand, and an arrow from his quiver, which had been sitting beside him, already notched. He crouched there a moment. Aragorn sat up straight, and pulled his sword a fraction out of it’s sheath.

Silence.

Aragorn put away his frustration that Legolas breathed quieter than he, and stared into the darkness. Nothing…

“I thought I heard a creature in the woods.” Legolas whispered. “Something hunts us.”

Aragorn did not respond, and slowly sheathed his sword. “I hear nothing, Legolas.”

Legolas was slower to draw the conclusion, but finally did, and put the bow and arrow aside. The fact that he didn’t returned the arrow to it’s quiver worried Aragorn. Legolas wasn’t really convinced.

“Spiders?” Aragorn probed.

“No. Too big. And spiders would not stray this far from the dark center of Mirkwood.” Legolas sat down on his cloak again, but continued to stare into the dark trees, searching them with his keen, elven eyes.

“Legolas,” Aragorn spoke hesitantly, and pressed close to his friend. “Do you not think- well, is it not possible that maybe- maybe you heard nothing? That it was naught but your mind tricking you again?”

Legolas closed his eyes, and Aragorn could see he had struck him deep. “I- I am sorry my friend, I am wrong-”

“It is not you.” Legolas sighed. “Strider, I do not know what I shall do. An elf grows to trust his eyes, ears and instincts. How can I accept that mine are incorrect? That they lie to me, though I have trusted them completely for so long?”

“Well,” Aragorn sighed, and sat down next to the downcast elf. “It is in times like that, when we must trust our hearts instead. The heart does not lie.”

“But I cannot see with my heart, my friend.”

“Can you not?” Aragorn leaned forward and tried to look Legolas in the eye, but the elf turned away. “Legolas.” Aragorn laid a hand on the prince’s knee. “You cannot hear your friends’ respect, see your father’s love, or touch my friendship. It is true, one cannot breath without the mind. But you cannot truly live without the heart, and your heart, Legolas, does not lie to you.”

Legolas was silent, but Aragorn could feel him relax slightly. The words had hit their target, and already the elf seemed to calm, and brighten, if only a little.

“And you do not need to see Eärendil to feel hope.” Aragorn removed his hand, and stood to walk over to the dieing fire.

“Estel-”

He turned around to the elf again.

Legolas smiled. “Hantach.”

//thank you//

“Ea na gwiil, Legolas.”

//be at peace, legolas//

Legolas straitened again. “What is it that you-” he stopped, and whirled around, reaching for his bow and arrow.

Aragorn barely had time to realize what he was doing, before he felt something hard smack him over the back of his head. He seemed to swim in murky-gray mist. He reeled without moving, and all sound was dull. Then it cleared somewhat. When he could see straight again, he saw Legolas swinging his bow around, the arrow he’d originally notched still sitting in it. He swung the bow wildly, and couldn’t seem to see what he was shooting at. Finally, he loosed the arrow, but it flew harmlessly into the dark woods. He couldn’t see anything.

Aragorn pushed himself to his knees, just to feel another hard blow to his head.

Legolas swung in circles over and over, his eyes wide with terror.

“Khazâd ai-mênu!” Aragorn heard a rough voice shout.

The dark creatures launched their attack on the bewildered elf all at once. Unable to hold his own against all the dark shapes, Legolas sank under their weight, and one of them hastily snatched his bow.

Aragorn could not tell what was happening, though as his head swam in the murky mist again, he vaguely heard Legolas cry out. At the sound of this, the ranger made a valiant attempt to lift himself up again. The attempt earned him another blow on the head, and this time, the mist didn’t clear.

Chapter 5

Tears in the Dark

Aragorn’s head throbbed, but that was to be expected. Thoughts trickled through his mind, like a sluggish current, slowly piecing itself together.

He head hurt…because he’d been hit on the head. Twice- no…three times at least. Yes. They’d been attacked. They…Legolas!

The sudden realization hit him even harder than the blow to his head. He opened his eyes, but there was no difference between that moment, and a moment before when they had been closed. It was black as the ashes of Mount Doom.

Aragorn tried hard to focus his unwilling eyes, but the black remained. He tried to push his aching body up, but found that his hands were bound behind him. After awhile he managed to push himself onto his knees. He was surprised to find the ceiling just a few inches above his head. Where in the world were they?

“Legolas?” Aragorn’s voice sounded small and confined in the tiny, low-ceilinged room. “Legolas?” he repeated after hearing no answer.

“Yes, Strider, I am here.”

“I cannot see you.” Aragorn tried to move towards the sound of his friend’s voice.

“Nor I you.” Came the soft reply.

“Where are we?”

“I know not.” Aragorn continued to crawl towards the sound of the elf’s voice. Finally, he hit something. The impact of suddenly hitting a large shape in the dark caused him to stumble, and slump forward.

“Easy, now.” He felt Legolas shoulder against his, and the elf supported the human back to his knees.

Aragorn suddenly realized that Legolas was shaking.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I am well.” Legolas sighed, but Aragorn could here he was not. “I was a little roughed up, so to speak, by- by whatever it was that caught us.”

“What did they do?”

“Not much. But I think I dislocated my shoulder again. I cannot feel my fingers.”

“Though,” Aragorn commented dryly, “that could be due to these creatures’ knot-tying techniques. I cannot feel my fingers either.”

“Here.” He felt Legolas move up behind him. “If we sit back-to-back, we might be able to untie each other’s hands.

Aragorn nodded, but of course Legolas didn’t see it, so he added “Might as well give it a try.”

The human knelt a little lower, and felt Legolas do the same. The elf’s swift fingers moved around Aragorn’s knots, and he tried to force his numb fingers to do the same.

The knots were indeed tight, but as Aragorn worked his fingers slowly grew a little more feeling. Legolas was obviously making more progress than the human.

As the feeling began to come back, Aragorn realized that the knots he worked at were wet and sticky. Whether it was his blood or Legolas’, he didn’t know, and didn’t quite want to.

Finally, he felt the ropes around his wrists relax, and then fall away. “I’m almost done with yours.” He assured Legolas, and turned around to face the knots, though he could not see them.

His hands hurt badly as the feeling returned fully to them, but worked doggedly on. He soon realized why it was taking so long. There were three thick ropes tied around the elf’s wrists.

“What cause have they to be so frightened of elves?”

Legolas groaned. “I know not. It seems that most have one cause or another; it is almost always some form of superstition, though.”

“Well, it will make it a little harder to untie you, I am afraid.”

“It is of no matter, Aragorn. Take the time you need. Even were I in a hurry, I would have no where to go.”

Aragorn had to agree with that, and gave a half smile despite himself.

At long last, the second rope was untied. Aragorn felt his friend tense every time the human’s fingers touched Legolas’ hurting hands.

“Does it hurt that much, Legolas?” He inquired worriedly,

“It is not your fault.” Legolas sighed. “But when you touch me, well-”

“You feel me striking you.” Aragorn quoted from their conversation awhile back.

“I don’t suppose that you have checked to see if any of our weapons were *not* confiscated.” Legolas queried, in an obvious change of subject.

“Yes,” Aragorn clearly accepted it.

“And?”

“Alas, no.” The other sighed.

“Hm.” Legolas mused. “It is indeed a disappointment, but I must confess, an expected one.”

Aragorn smiled in the darkness, and felt the last rope finally give way. “There!” He said, satisfied. “You are free.”

Legolas sucked in his breath, and felt the raw wrists. “Indeed.” He responded ruefully.

Aragorn stood, and forgetting the low ceiling, made hard contacted with it. Sprinkles of dirt fell down on his face, and he sank to the floor again.

“Strider, are you alright?” Legolas’ surprised voice came through the dark.

“Yes, I am well.” Aragorn rubbed his head, and looked up at the darkness that was the ceiling. “This is a dirt ceiling.” He said thoughtfully.

Legolas reached up and touched the canopy of earth. “You are right.” He felt along it, and realized that it was very damp. “Feel along the walls - there must be a door somewhere.”

Aragorn crawled until he felt the wall. It too was dirt and he trailed along it, searching for a crack that might be a doorway of some sort. Suddenly, he felt something strange, and it took him a moment to realize what it was.

“Sorry Legolas. Did you find anything?”

“No, and I very much doubt that my sleeve will get us out of here.”

Aragorn grinned at the amused voice, and let go of his friends sleeve. “How is it possible that there is no door?”

“I would think there is one somewhere. Unless…” Legolas’ voice trailed off.

“Unless they’re trying to bury us alive.” Aragorn finished grimly. “But why would there be so much room, if they were actually burying us, why would the bother making it more of a room than a hole? I suppose that it is likely they wanted us to live awhile before suffocating or staving. But what kind of creature would attack our camp, simply to bury us alive? Wait…” He turned, suddenly thinking of something. “Legolas, did you not see these creatures when they fought you?”

“No.” Legolas was curt, and more than a little troubled as he answered.

“How could you not?” Aragorn didn’t want to push his friend again, but he was dieing to help the elf in any way, and the first sound of distress was nagging.

“I *saw* them - their form, their being - but I did not see *them*. I know that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw what my eyes didn’t, or rather I felt it, but the feeling may not be real, as well as the sight I know must not be real. Or maybe it is all untrue. I knew that they were there, but my eyes saw nightmares they were not. But perhaps they were. Perhaps- oh, perhaps nothing is real! Perhaps it all is in vain to believe that I could discern truth!” Legolas broke off angrily, and brokenly.

Aragorn could hear the distress and anger, but could not hold back his impatience any longer.

“Legolas, you make no sense to me! Do you not think I wish to help you? Do you not believe that I would assist you in any way I could? But you make it impossible! How can I help you when you never truly talk to me? You talk into your dream, but not to my face! Legolas, I want to- let me…”

Aragorn could not force himself to go on. He could feel tears of frustration fill his eyes, and was suddenly glad for the darkness.

But Legolas didn’t need to see the tears to know them to be there. He heard the human’s breath shake, and could feel him move away a little.

“Aragorn.” He murmured softly. “I am so sorry my friend. I do believe you wish to help me, and I do thank you for it. I am- I am sorry that I cannot explain my distress in words you can know, and understand. I do not wish to confuse you.”

Aragorn managed to get a hold of himself, and hastily wiped the tears from his dirty face. He was about to respond, but Legolas sighed, and continued, “And I am greatly sorry that I have given you such grief. That I grew angry. It is only I miss reason. My world contains no reason anymore.”

Aragorn steadied his shaky breathing, and quietly answered. “It is well that I know of your sorrows, Legolas. I am sorry that I ask for them, and grow angry at their answers.” Aragorn allowed his tongue to slip into grey words. “Eressem mavros na buioch.”

//I only want to help you.//

“You have, Aragorn, and I thank you for it.” the elf’s voice became so quiet, it was barely audible to Aragorn’s human ears. “I am not used to being vulnerable.”

Aragorn sat back on his heals “So how do we get out, if there is no door?”

“Well,” Legolas began, accepting the change of subject gratefully. “I supposed the obvious answer is dig.”

“True, but it will be difficult to dig upwards, which is likely the only way.”

Aragorn heard rather than saw the other shrug. “I do not see that we have much choice.”

The two of them, with nothing but their hands as tools, began to dig into the ceiling. They soon found that it was a little too easy to dig through the earth. It was fairly loose, and every time they removed a clump of it, a whole section fell down.

Soon the friends were kneeling in knee-deep dirt all around them. “This is of no use.” Aragorn sighed, leaning against the dirt wall. “Perhaps we should-”

“Wait!” Legolas cut him off. “I feel something…it’s…wood?” Aragorn crawled towards the sound of the elf’s voice. It wasn’t easy, for due to the deep dirt on the floor, the ranger had to practically swim to his friend’s side.

“Wood?” He repeated, once beside Legolas.

“It is rough, but flat.” Legolas reached into the dark for Aragorn’s hand. “Feel-” he began, as he touched the hand, and began to direct it to the strange wood. Suddenly, he jerked back, and cringed. As he did, he lost what footing he’d had in the knee-deep earth, and fell back into the opposite wall. His head made hard contact with the dark wall, and he tried to reel away, only to fall over into the veritable pool of dirt.

Aragorn saw not of this, but felt his friend recoil, and heard the dull thud of him hitting the dirt wall. “Legolas?!” He called “Are you alright?”

Silence.

Aragorn waded through the fallen ceiling as fast as he could, and finally felt Legolas’ fine hair strewn over the damp earth. “Legolas?” He moved his hands around, and felt the elf’s head, pointed ear, neck, shoulders…

“Legolas, can you hear me?” his dirty fingers brushed Legolas’ smooth face. As they glided down from his forehead, and down his nose, he felt his eyelids. His eyes were closed, and Elves, Aragorn realized with a shudder, only close their eyes in unconsciousness or…death.

Swallowing panic, his hands went shakily to the elf’s chest. It was slow but he could feel a his chest rise and fall, and after awhile, a weak heart beat.

“Thank you, my friend.” He sighed, feeling very relieved but also suddenly lonely in the dark by himself. He sat down beside the unconscious prince, and laid his hands on his chest. He relaxed as it rose and fell. Rose and fell. In and out. Up and down. And slowly, he did not feel as lonely.

But the silence was deafening. It rang in his ears, and every grain of dirt that fell from the ceiling sounded as a crack of thunder.

Quietly, and then, slowly louder, Aragorn sang again.

“Uuvam kena kalad morth

//I would see the light in darkness//

Uuvam baur laanad

//I would need not anything//

Eram uuva kena ilman

//If only I will see the stars//

Eram lennathon”

//If only I will sing!//

Suddenly, the ceiling shook, and a loud pounding ensued. Aragorn drew closer to Legolas, putting his body between him and whatever it was hammering above them.

He barely had a moment to think before a trap door opened in the ceiling just a foot away from where he and Legolas sat, and a torch was pointed into the dark hole. A low bellowing voice seemed to almost shake the room.

“You had better not be dead yet!”

Chapter 6

The Light of Estel

Aragorn was completely blinded by the torch’s light, after being in total darkness for so long, and could only squint into the fire. It was impossible to determine the face of whatever it was, but he could decipher a vague shadow of it’s form. And if he wasn’t mistaken, it was a dwarf that now stood in their prison.

The dwarf swung it’s torch towards Aragorn, and snarled. “You’ve been trying to dig yourself out, I see.” He scuffed his boots in the knee-deep dirt. “Well, I think then that you know there’s no way out but the door. You probably couldn’t get it open, though. ‘tis designed to keep creatures in. Any creatures.” He stuck out his great chest with pride.

“I must confess,” Aragorn responded flatly “we did not find the door.”

The dwarf looked momentarily annoyed, and then covered it up with “Well, that is to be expected of a human and an elf. Neither are of a very intelligent lineage.”

Aragorn would have liked to give the smirking creature some of his opinions on dwarves, but just then, roughly six more dwarves climbed down through the trap door and into the prison-pit. All were short enough to stand almost straight in the low prison. All but one.

“Well, Gulrin, we haven’t all day! Bodruith is not a patient person!” The largest dwarf stepped forward, addressing the first one.

“Yes, yes.” Gulrin said impatiently, setting the torch onto the dirt floor, and brandishing his axe. “Grab the human. I think that the elf is still unconscious.”

Three of the dwarves stepped forward, each holding a rope. Aragorn would not have any of it. Pushing himself up as far as he could go, he kicked one of the dwarves in the stomach, whirled, and hit another in the shoulder with his fist.

The rest of the dwarves now became riled, and attacked the ranger. Aragorn easily knocked two of them out of his way with the side of the axe he’d taken from one of the first. This made the de-axed dwarf very angry, and he flew at the tall human. Tall though he was, Aragorn easily ducked the assault, and the axe-less dwarf flew into the dirt wall instead.

The dwarf called Gulrin swung his own axe at him, but Aragorn dropped onto the soft, dirt floor, and the weapon’s weight carried Gulrin half-way across the pit.

“Drop it, human!” the big dwarf who’d been talking to Gulrin a moment ago bellowed. Aragorn whirled, and saw the dwarf standing over Legolas, his sharp axe dangerously close to the prince’s neck. “Drop the axe!” He repeated.

Aragorn couldn’t help but obey. Never once taking his eyes off Legolas, he pushed himself out of the dirt, and dropped the axe in front of him.

“Now, sit down.”

Aragorn stared at the dwarf hesitantly. “Do it!’ He shouted, letting the axe fall enough to cut the skin on Legolas’ neck.

Aragorn quickly dropped into the loose earth once more, and felt two dwarves run up behind him, and tightly bind his hands behind his back again. Not willing to take chances, they used three ropes on him like they had on Legolas.

Satisfied, the big dwarf put his axe aside, and nodded to two other dwarves.

Aragorn watched miserably as they tied his unconscious friend’s hands behind his back, and hauled him limply to his knees.

“What do we do with him, Binwen?” another larger dwarf moaned. “I’m not looking forward to dragging him all the way to the great hall.”

“Well, that’s what we plan to do, Dreago. And if I were you, I would not start to moaning about it.”

Binwen, and Dreago grabbed Legolas by his arms, and dragged him to the trap-door opening. He was then hoisted up, and pulled out by some dwarves apparently waiting by the door.

Aragorn felt the pole of an axe against his back, and stood half-way up. He made his way to the door, and felt the dwarves pulling him up as well. They were not gentle, and Aragorn was practically wrenched out of the pit, and thrown onto the ground outside of it.

Aragorn was surprised and more than a little dismayed to find he still looked up at dirt. “Where are we?” he asked wearily.

One of the dwarves turned to him and sneered. “About five hundred feet under the ground of Mirkwood.”

“Five hundred?” Aragorn repeated feebly, dread filling the words.

“Shut up human.” Binwen snapped, pulling himself out the hole, and closing the trap-door behind him.

Aragorn sat up half-way, and looked around. They were in a huge tunnel, almost twice his height. All dirt and rocks. Everywhere.

“How can you possibly breath all the way down h-” The breath went out of his lungs as Binwen gave him an impatient kick in the stomach.

“You won’t ever find out, if you don’t quit whimpering!” He shouted angrily. “As if it isn’t bad enough that I have to drag this stupid elf the whole way.” He made as if to kick Legolas as well, but Aragorn rolled over, and knelt protectively over the prince.

“Out of my way, human.” He threatened darkly.

“No.” came the defiant answer.

Binwen aimed two more kicks at Aragorn, one in the stomach, and then another in the back when the ranger fell over from the impact of the first. But Aragorn managed to rally himself, and moved over Legolas again.

“So, you want to learn the hard way, eh?” the other grinned evilly.

“Binwen.” Gulrin walked in front of the angry dwarf. “Cut it out. We don’t have time for your temper!”

Binwen growled at the other, but consented, and nodded at two other dwarves. The dwarves ran to Aragorn, and tied a length of rope to his bound hands like a leash.

“Get moving.” One growled impatiently. Aragorn worked his way to his feet, and began walking down the long tunnel. He chanced a look over his shoulder, and caught Binwen and Dreago grab Legolas by his arms, and begin to drag him down the tunnel after Aragorn.

Aragorn felt a sharp pain in his back, as the impatient dwarf smacked him with the pole of his axe. “Would you hurry up? It’s not exactly fun dragging you along, and we have a good ten miles to the great hall!”

Aragorn’s mouth went dry. “Ten miles?” He glanced over his shoulder again, to see his friend being dragged along the hard ground. Ten miles…

Aragorn felt the axe again. “Hurry up!”

**********

Aragorn tripped on an ill-placed rock, and fell onto his knees. He stifled a cry, as the expected boot caught him in the chest. “Get up, you clumsy human!”

It was not easy for Aragorn to get to his feet with his hands bound, but the dwarf obviously didn’t care.

It had been four of the longest hours of his life, running through the tunnels, turning down this one, and that one, all the while with four dwarves ahead, and six behind the human and elf. Every once and awhile, he’d hear a loud crack, and then Binwen and Dreago arguing about which one kept smacking “the elf” against everything. Aragorn couldn’t bare to look behind him at his friend. He didn’t want to know how he looked after all that.

Every time Aragorn tripped, or fell, or even slowed the pace, he earned a kick in the chest, and even more threats about what they’d do to Legolas.

Legolas, Aragorn knew, could not take much more. As it was, he was weak, and the constant abuse was not giving his body a chance go heal, nor his mind any opportunity of waking up.

Lost in anguish for his friend, Aragorn was not paying attention, and slipped again. He twisted to the side, and used his shoulder to catch himself on the tunnel wall. Standing slouched against the dirt, he braced himself for another blow.

“We’ll rest here. ‘tis almost night.” Gulrin’s gruff voice came. Aragorn looked up at the tunnel’s dirt ceiling, and wondered vaguely how Gulrin knew the time of day.

“Human, get over here!” Binwen snapped. Aragorn took one step towards the dwarf, and collapsed. “Get up!” he shouted.

“You can hit me all you like.” Aragorn responded softly “but I do not think it will give me the strength to rise.”

Binwen growled, but could not ignore reason. “Tie him up.” He snapped to Gulrin, in a ‘so there’ tone.

Gulrin took the rope attached to Aragorn’s hands, and tied it to his ankles, depriving him of walking. Of course, Aragorn thought grimly, he would not have had the strength to walk anyway.

The ranger had no idea what was happening to Legolas. He couldn’t seem to maneuver around to look, but it sounded like they were tying the elf up a few feet behind Aragorn. Why? Thought the distressed human. Why were they so frightened of elves? Legolas was unconscious for goodness sake! And thanks to them, would be for awhile. He sighed, and let his head rest against the tunnel wall. It would be a long night.

**********

He ran as fast as he could, though nothing perused him. He reached the hill. *That* hill. He dared not cross it, but his legs forced him to. He knew what he would see over it.

As he reached it’s top, everything turned red. Fire rose from the already-dead trees. Indeed, he knew he would find this, but every time it was more real, more painful than the last.

Once again, his legs carried him towards the smoking woods. All dead. All gone. He ran to the stone halls, and they crumbled when he touched them. “No!” he shouted, but no words came out.

Then, the very worst, he knew, had to occur. He ran to the familiar bedroom, and knelt beside the bed, lifting his father into his arms. “No, no!” the words were not indeed words, but essence. The sound of regret echoed in the silent room.

“Father!” he tried to say, but could only convey the word through his tearful eyes.

His father would not look at him. He turned away, staring into the burnt trees of Mirkwood.

“Father, please.” he felt tears slip down his cheeks, and touch his father’s robes. As they hit, they spread into an ugly blood-stain.

“Father!” He cried through his tears.

Then, the king closed his eyes. “You do not know what you have done.” his words were the only ones that could be spoken in the dark room, lit red from the fires outside. The breath went from the old elf, and his son could almost hear his spirit escaping the room.

“Father no!” He tried to shout, but could only cry more tears. A silent whisper insisted “You’ve killed him! Your people! Your weakness has killed them all!”

“No. No.” he tried to argue, but the tears came too quickly, and landed again and again on his father, spreading into huge stains.

He turned away, though he could still see his father, as though he were imprinted on his eyes. He had no one else to turn to. Nothing else to try and say.

He shouted as loud as he could, but it only came as a whisper. “Estel!”

**********

Aragorn jerked out of his troubled sleep. He could not, and did not want to remember what he’d been dreaming. But something had woken him up. What was it?

“Estel…” The whisper was barely audible, but he recognized it.

“Legolas?” no response. And then,

“Estel?”

“Legolas! Are you awake?”

“Estel.” The elf seemed to hold onto the name like a life-line. Aragorn tried to turn around, but even if he could, he would not have been able to see the elf in the complete darkness.

“Help…me.”

“How, Legolas? How?”

Silence.

“Estel. Estel…” His breath quickened, and he seemed to breath unevenly. He was somewhere between sleep, and restlessness. Lost in a dream.

Aragorn’s mind raced, longing to help his friend. He could not touch him, or aid him. But Legolas could hear him. “Ea na gwiil, Legolas. Estel uuye morn na naeg”

//be at peace, legolas. Hope is not darkened by pain.//

“Stop your whisperings, human, or your friend won’t ever see the light of day!” Benwin was obviously not in the mood to be tolerant, and it appeared he didn’t sleep either.

In the silence that followed, Aragorn vaguely heard Legolas whisper his name one last time, but this time, it was not in fear, it was in peace. Somehow, he knew that the grey words had calmed his friend’s restless dream.

**********

Legolas called his name again, but there was no response, and the elf began to wonder if he was really calling, or if his mind just played tricks on him again, telling him he spoke, when he did not.

Finally, he heard a distant, but familiar voice. “Legolas?”

“Estel?” He responded as best he could, though since he did not shout, he could only convey the words through the expectation in his eyes - hope that it was indeed his friend.

A whisper answered his call, but Legolas could not hear words. He turned, and stared out the bedroom window where a light began to glow. It got brighter, and brighter, till it filled the room. It covered the red glow from the fires, and instead filled it to the brim with the purest light. The light of Eärendil. Star of hope. But it was more than the star. It was indeed his friend, his own beloved hope.

“Estel.” He whispered again, and the light of Eärendil sent the name flying about the room, and it echoed off the walls. Legolas held to the name, the star, the friend, as if it were the hope of his heart. His own hope.

Then the light began to fade. The star became red like the fires that shot through Mirkwood. Like the flames that licked at the window as he sat in the dark room, holding his dead father.

“Help...me.” He begged through his desperate eyes, urging the light to come back. Knowing it was indeed his friend, and longing for Estel to be near him.

“How Legolas? How?” it asked, shining momentarily brighter.

Then Thranduil became heavy. He seemed to begin to sink. Sink into the bed, and through it as well. Dragging his grieving son with him.

“Estel. Estel…” He tried to call, but the weight of his father dragged him down. He could not hold him, nor let him go. He was falling with him into darkness.

Then, just as fire began to spring from the window, just as Thranduil began unknowingly to drown Legolas in darkness, Eärendil began to shine. Brighter than ever, in shone through the room, enveloping Legolas.

It’s beams whispered to him. “Estel uuye morn na naeg” And somewhere inside, he knew that it was Estel that spoke to him.

The sight of Mirkwood and his father disappeared, and he was standing in nothing. He was standing in beauty. He was standing in hope. And with that, with the words of Estel still echoing in his mind, Eärendil pushed him safely into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 7

Wither Then? I Cannot Say

Aragorn was awoken by a brutal jab in his back. Another axe pole. “Get up, lazy human. We have another six miles yet to walk.”

Aragorn’s ankles were untied, and he rose painfully to his feet. The feeling had gone out of his knees down, and his hands.

“Right, lets get going!” Benwin shouted gruffly, and the party of fifteen continued their journey down the long tunnel.

They’d been running steadily for almost an hour when another loud thud sounded from behind Aragorn.

“Halt!” Benwin shouted, and he and Dreago let Legolas slip from their hands.

Aragorn winced at the sound of his friend hitting the dirt ground.

“Maybe if we kick him enough, we’ll startle him out of his sleep. I’m not carrying him another step!” Shouted the annoyed Dreago. He’d obviously had quite enough, for no one in their right mind would think that they could kick someone into consciousness.

Benwin gave the other a dubious look. “You think I like this?” He eyed the unconscious elf. “I suppose…” He lifted his axe, aiming the end of it at Legolas’ back. “You never know, with *elves*.”

A dull thud sounded, and Aragorn closed his eyes again. Another. Then a third. Before Benwin could land his fourth blow, Aragorn had torn around in a circle, and was running back towards cruel dwarf.

Benwin looked up in time to see the tall human land in the middle of him, but Aragorn’s victory was short lived. With his hands tied behind his back, he wasn’t totally mobile, and Benwin didn’t have a hard time kicking him off.

As soon as the human was off of their comrade, two dwarves rushed in, one grabbing the rope attached to Aragorn’s hands, the other grabbing his shoulders to restrain him on his knees.

Benwin stood up slowly, wiping the blood that ran freely from the newly achieved cut on his head. “You should not interfere with me, human.” he said darkly “But that is fine. You can *watch* your friend’s agony.”

Benwin turned, and aimed another blow at Legolas, but Aragorn spoke up quickly. “You will not wake him up that way. Hitting him, and causing him more pain will only make it worse.”

The dwarf turned, and scowled at the ranger. “So what do you suggest?”

“Let me carry him.”

Benwin looked more than a little skeptical.

“See here, you do not want to drag him,” He reasoned, “And I do not want you to hurt him. Untie my hands, and I will carry him.”

Benwin glared at the man, but finally nodded. “But any trickery, and the moment I see that elf, I will kill him. No hesitation, I will simply kill him. And then I shall kill you, understood?”

Aragorn nodded, as the dwarf behind him drew a short dagger, and cut his ropes. The other, however, continued to nervously restrain him by his shoulders. Aragorn didn’t care. Right now, he only wanted to help Legolas.

Once the dwarf untied him, he pulled another length of rope out, and looped it around Aragorn’s neck. “This way we can still keep a leash on you.” Benwin told him coldly.

Feeling once again returned to Aragorn’s hands with no small amount of pain, but he rose to his feet, and walked over to Benwin.

Benwin cocked his hairy head towards the elf. “Take him.” He said indifferently, and then walked behind Aragorn to take the ranger’s rope.

Aragorn knelt beside his friend, and cringed at the blood that stained his golden hair. He reached down to his bound hands, and tore at the knots.

“No time for that!“ Binwen snapped, but Aragorn wasn’t listening, and continued with his endeavor until the ropes fell away. Carefully, gently, he lifted Legolas off the dirt floor, and into his strong arms.

The prince was frighteningly light and frail, and an unexpected lump formed in Aragorn’s throat when the blond curtain of hair fell back, and exposed Legolas’ pale face.

“Come on, lazy one.” Benwin gave Aragorn’s rope an impatient tug, and the human stumbled a bit from it’s unexpected pull. Holding Legolas tightly to his chest, he turned, and began to walk down the tunnel.

It was steadily getting cooler, and Aragorn finally realized that they were walking on a down-ward slant. It was slight, and almost unnoticeable, but it struck dread into Aragorn’s mind, and he began to feel rather claustrophobic. They were going even deeper underground.

**********

Aragorn had lost all track of time. He seemed to be walking in a dream; a long, vivid nightmare. The walls began to swirl on either side of him, and the ground in front of him tipped and swayed. The only thought that ran through his head was Legolas. He would not stumble, or slow: he would keep walking for Legolas, holding the elf even tighter he thought back on their moments in the dirt prison.

It was his fault that the elf now lay unconscious. He had been careless, and had touched Legolas’ hand. How could he have forgot? Legolas had told him, “…when you touch my skin, I feel you striking me…” he had touched him anyway, and the elf, in fear of being struck again, threw himself backwards. The impact had knocked him out, and now he’d been dragged almost five miles.

Aragorn once again ran his fingers over the bruises and scratches up and down his friend’s fair skin. They were all his fault. And the blood which ran through his hair was indeed from the cut Benwin had lain. If Aragorn had not hesitated to surrender, the dwarf would not have had cause to cut Legolas’ skin.

It was he who was to blame, and now all he could do was stumble along carrying his unconscious friend, hoping to make up for it. “I am sorry, Legolas.” He whispered softly, so that only he, and perhaps somewhere in the darkness of sleep, Legolas could hear. “I am so sorry, my friend.” Aragorn stared down at his friend’s pale face. His body was light, his heart was beating slower by the second. “I do not want to lose you.” he repeated his words from the campfire only a day or two ago. Choking his tears back, he touched the broken skin on Legolas’ neck.