Rating: PG-13, for violence and tense situations

Spoilers: Only for the previous stories in our series

Disclaimer:
We own nothing of Middle Earth or any of Tolkien’s worlds or characters. Everything recognizable belongs to JRR Tolkien, anything else belongs to us. We have no permission to use these characters and are receiving no money for this story. This story was written for enjoyment only.

Summary:
A dark elf with a burning hatred for men is terrorizing the countryside around Rivendell. Unfortunately, that elf bears a striking resemblance to Prince Legolas. An innocent visit from Mirkwood to Rivendell lands Legolas in more trouble than he bargained for, but he is not the only one, because when the dark elf's deadly designs become focused on Aragorn, everyone finds themselves in danger.

Series:
Yes. Previous stories in the series are:
Captive of Darkness
Hope
First Meetings
Change of Heart, Change of Mind
Exile
&
Return
This story will make more sense if you have read those first, although if you want to give it a whirl by itself, we try to recap and explain most of the references back to the other stories when they pop up.

Additional disclaimers:
When Tolkien says that Aragorn was ‘raised in the house of Elrond’ after his father’s death when he was a child, we have taken that to mean that Elrond was something of an adopted father to his long-distant nephew, Aragorn, and Elrond’s twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir were something like older brothers to the young ranger. Yes, we have written Aragorn’s mother entirely out of the equation, but Tolkien never, ever talked about her in the stories and quite frankly, do we care? No. So for our intents and purposes, both Aragorn’s parents were killed when he was little, although we mostly just avoid talking about his mother all together. We do realize that this may not fit everyone’s view of the situation, but it is our view and that shows in our stories.  Please do not take offence, or flame us on this if you see it differently.  Thanks!

Any spelling, date, cannon or character errors are the fault of the authors only and are completely by accident. We are not an expert on Middle Earth and have never claimed to be. So please forgive any omissions that you might find.

A soft continuous knocking on the large wooden doors alerted Elrond, lord of Rivendell, that someone was on the threshold of his house. He quickly crossed to the entryway and opened the door.

A dark haired elf stood in the doorway leaning heavily on the frame, he fell forward as the doors opened and Elrond caught the elf, bracing him against himself.

Elrond recognized the elf that he held as one of his own, a friend of his sons who had lived in Rivendell since he was born, "Moranuen?"

"Lord... Elrond..." Moranuen spoke haltingly, his message cut off as he passed out.

The elf had been badly beaten and his clothing was torn and stained with his own blood. As he lost consciousness a piece of wadded up paper fell from his hand settling onto the landing. Elrond glanced back into the house and called for his help, "Celboril!"

The urgency in the elf lord’s voice brought several servants running to his aide. Gently they eased the elf away from Elrond and took him to a guestroom at their master’s bidding.

When they had left the entryway, Elrond stooped down and retrieved the discarded paper Moranuen had dropped. He smoothed out the wrinkles and quickly scanned the contents. The page held a crudely drawn portrait of an elf with the words "reward, dead or alive" stenciled in block lettering on bottom – ‘wanted for the murder of five men in the eastern range' completed the explanation. The elf that stared back at him from the paper held no resemblance to the dark haired elf that had returned to him from the errand he had sent him on and anger burned within the elven lord at his servant’s mistreatment.

His own sons had left early before sunrise to go hunting and so he had sent Moranuen to the town of Strayton to inquire about a letter that had been received that morning in his household. The very manner in which it had been delivered had bothered him greatly and he should have been more wary. Driven into the wooden gate near the road down to Rivendell was a knife with a threat scratched on a piece of paper that read;

The elf lord knew that there were bands of men that roamed the ranges of the mountains that bracketed Rivendell on either side but they had lived in peace for a very long time. It was true that there were more men moving into the surrounding areas of late, but the hills were rich with game and there was enough for everyone. This turn of events was unexpected and it bode ill for the elves in his realm. Thinking to discover what the source of the men’s complaint was, he had asked Moranuen to inquire about it and return with information. He had no desire for confrontation with the humans and intended to work with the men of Strayton to solve whatever was going on, but it did not appear that the sentiment was returned.

He moved quickly through the halls of his home until he reached the room that Moranuen had been removed to. His servants scattered out of the way as he approached the bed the elf had been laid on. Gently he moved the long strands of dark hair away from the bruised face.

"How is he?" Elrond glanced quickly at Celboril.

"Not good my lord." The elf moved nearer his liege and touched the injured elf’s face carefully. "He has several broken ribs and his left arm is fractured. I’d be surprised if he didn’t have a concussion. I don’t know what they did to him but they were cruel." Gently he picked up one of the elf’s hands and turned it palm up in his own, displaying bloody rope burns on Moranuen’s wrists. "I can't imagine what he would have done that could make anyone treat him thus."

In answer to his question Elrond handed Celboril the paper that Moranuen had dropped, he was sickened by the treatment of the young elf and trying to contain his anger.

"My lord!" The servant glanced up in surprise, "No elf in Rivendell would kill any man!"

Nodding his head slowly he answered the other, "I know. Nor would they provoke an attack such as this." He glanced darkly at the wounded elf, "I think we may have a problem on our hands. But we need more information."

"If they wouldn’t talk to Moranuen..." Celboril left the statement open.

"I know, they will not talk to any of us. And I will not suffer any one else to be treated this way." He looked back at his attendant, "Find Moranuen’s family, ask them to come and stay here while he heals. Clean him up and I will return to see what can be done for him. I want to see that arm set quickly as soon as the swelling goes down. If he should wake, tell me immediately."

"Yes my lord." Celboril stopped Elrond before he had left the room, "Where will I find you my lord?"

Elrond didn’t turn back when he answered, he needed to think, he needed to be alone for a bit. "In the common room Celboril. I will be there by the fire. I have some thinking to do but I will return shortly." With that explanation he left the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn stepped lightly into the main room of his father’s house. A fire was burning brightly in the alcove and the rich muted smells of dinner wafted through the warm air under the vaulted beams of Rivendell.

Elrond was seated before the fireplace, his tall frame wrapped in a large wingback overstuffed chair, his eyes fixed on the dancing weaving flames, allowing himself to be mesmerized by their interaction as his mind was lost deep in thought.

His meditations were distracted as his youngest son, his human son, entered the room and dropped down onto the veranda next to him. The young man brushed long dark locks of hair from his face and fixed the elf with silver eyes. He didn’t speak, he simply watched his elder, waiting the other out. Growing up in an elven home had shaped the young human differently than he would have grown up had he not lived among a race millennia his senior. He had learned the art of patience and waiting.

Elrond watched him for a few moments without speaking until the human started to smile at him. Smiling back Elrond nodded at the young man, "How was the hunting Estel?"

"Good. We found a small herd not far from here." When his father simply returned to watching the fire the ranger spoke. "How was your day?"

Elrond glanced back at the boy and raised an eyebrow curiously. "You never ask how my days go."

"I never find you just sitting quietly before the fire."

"And what is so odd about that young one?" He smiled at the human.

"Well you just have that same look on your face, like the time you found out that Elrohir had broken his leg when he took that dare from Elladan and tried to jump the falls."

"Oh yes," Elrond shook his head and chuckled softly, "That was fun. Thank the heavens they have stopped that nonsense."

Estel glanced quickly down at his hands, his whole demeanor changing slightly as the elderly elf watched him. Elrond’s eyes narrowed as he considered the human, "Estel?"

"Yes father?"

The act of over stated innocence was not lost on the elf and he leveled the young ranger with a serious glare, "Is there something I should know?" His sons had been known to pull some of the most idiotic stunts. They had a penchant for daring each other.

Estel fidgeted with the heel of his boot where it lay across his thigh. "No." He answered innocently and then trying desperately to change the subject he continued, "But you *do* look like something’s wrong." The man turned serious and leaned forward, "What is it father?"

Smiling slightly and letting the redirection go, Elrond gazed back at the dancing flames and steepled his fingers as he thought through the day’s events. "Very well, it’s probably best I don’t know." He conceded.

"You couldn’t be more right." Estel whispered to himself shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Elrond had heard the slight comment and had just started to speak when Elladan and Elrohir entered the common room, stopping up short when they saw the serious look on their father's face.

Elrohir broke the silence first, "You told him didn’t you Estel!"

"You swore you wouldn’t!" Elladan glared at the man.

The human stared wide-eyed at his brothers shaking his head vigorously.

"Tell me what?" Elrond raised his eyebrow in question of his two sons. Elladan wouldn’t look his father in the eyes and Elrohir suddenly found the carpet very intriguing.

"I think I hear Celboril, I better go see what’s up he might need help in the kitchen." Elrohir tried unsuccessfully to exit the room but his brother grabbed the back of his tunic, stopping his forward motion as his father rose from his seat.

"Estel told me nothing of what the three of you were up to today." Elrond rounded his chair as he spoke, "And I am not sure that I want to hear it anyway." He motioned to the couch were Aragorn sat quietly, "Sit, I have something of importance that I need to discuss with the three of you."

The twins immediately obeyed, seating themselves on either side of their human brother. It was rare that their father spoke like this and the sudden seriousness of the situation bore down on them.

"I was just about to tell Estel what took place here while you were gone hunting this morning." He paced to the front of the room and stood with his back to the brothers quietly resettling the wood in the fireplace with an iron tool that stood nearby.

Elladan and Elrohir glanced at the ranger but he shrugged his shoulders, he had yet to discover what bothered their father. Without turning around Elrond continued, "Moranuen was beaten today when I sent him into Strayton on an errand for me."

"What!" Aragorn leapt to his feet, "Where is he? Is he all right?"

Moranuen was the human’s best friend in Rivendell other than the brothers themselves.

Elrond turned back to his youngest son and reassured him, "He is resting Estel. I will not lie to you. He is not well. He was badly beaten by the men in the town. He is under our roof and he and his family will stay here until he is well enough to leave. That will not be anytime soon I am afraid."

Aragorn tried to step forward, his worry for his friend overriding the conversation, but Elladan grabbed his coattail and pulled the man backwards, tipping him far enough off balance that he fell back onto the couch. Elrohir shifted over against the ranger and placing his arm on the human’s shoulder he leaned gently down pinning him in place.

"I would hear the rest father," Elrohir softly spoke as he glanced at his human brother, "It will be all right Estel."

"In time Moranuen will be just fine. You may visit him later, right now there are other matters that must be dealt with first." The elven lord then went on to explain the note posted on the gate of their road and passed the trio the paper that Moranuen had brought back with him.

"This cannot be allowed to continued father, we must find out who this elf is that they claim is killing their men and stop whatever is going on." Elladan handed the wanted sign over to Estel who shared it with Elrohir.

"You are correct, but as you can see we can send no more of our people out of this valley without them being in danger. We will have to take a very different route." His eyes lighted on Estel who was frowning down at the picture of the elf on the wanted poster. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged worried looks over their brother’s head before focusing on the human.

"This looks nothing like Moranuen. In fact this looks nothing like any Noldor elf that I know." He glanced up when no one answered him. Wondering what it was that he had missed, he looked from one serious face of his family to another and quickly rewound the conversation that had just been spoken, running it back through his attentive consciousness.

As he caught up with the essence of where his father was leading to he nodded slowly in understanding, "I can come and go and not be in danger. I am a man, they will not attack me."

"Yes Estel, that is exactly what I was thinking." Elrond paced back to the chair and lowered himself into it, staring intently at the young human.

"You cannot think to send him alone! Look at what they did to Moranuen, what guarantee do we have that they will not treat anyone who leaves these gates in much the same way?" Elladan voiced his concerns.

"He is a human Elladan, they will not bother him as they would the two of you and I would know what is going on so that we can bring this to an end. Estel’s childhood here is at an end, soon everyone will know that a Dùnadan frequents Rivendell even if they do not know his ancestry or his upbringing." He smiled at the man, "His presence here has been a well kept elven secret for many years but that time is over. Still most have not associated Estel with our house and he has the name Legolas gave him as an alias, as well as others. He could easily fit into this group of men and discover the truth about them. It is important to me."

"I can do this." Aragorn leaned forward eagerly, garnering a smile from his adoptive father.

"I know you can my son," Elrond locked eyes with the boy, "I want you to be careful though. These men are not like the Dunèdain, they run on their own set of rules. Otherwise Mora would not have returned as he did. Be wary, be observant, use what you have been taught. See if there is any validity to their accusation that an elf is murdering men in the eastern range. If that proves to be the case then we will need to deal with it. But *we* will deal with it, and not they."

"Of course father. I will leave tonight. May I have the letter that was posted on the gates?"

Elrond passed the scrap of paper to the human.

"Taradin." Estel repeated the name committing it to memory before passing the written threat back, "I’ll see what I can find out and I will return by the end of the week with word." He looked at his brothers as he made the last statement. If he didn’t return by that time they would know to come looking for him.

Elladan nodded seriously as Estel glanced at him.

"Then come, let us get you prepared." Elrond stood from his seat and held his hand out to the young man, "I imagine you’d like to see Moranuen before you go and I will have Celboril prepare you some food to take with you."

___________________________________________________________________
~*PART TWO*~

Aragorn entered Strayton as the sun dipped below the tallest of the wood buildings in the small town situated just west of Rivendell. A chill was just touching the evening air as he dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to the stable keeper and the ranger pulled his hooded leather coat tightly about him.

The stable master took note of the man's attire and when Strider inquired about the inn he simply nodded his head up the street and turned back towards the stables, trailing the ranger’s horse.

Strider nodded and headed to the center of town. He was getting used to the odd looks and the quiet distance that most other humans kept when in his presence.

The inn was marked by the usual manner of folk coming and going and the downstairs bar was full of patrons when the ranger pushed the doors open and entered the warm, dimly lit room. The innkeeper greeted him warmly, the way he greeted all folk, for every creature that passed through his doors only added to his coffers. So Aragorn was quickly given a room and a mug of ale.

The ranger kept the hood to his coat up, it helped to keep away those who might be too curious and it allowed him privacy as he seated himself at a table located in the rear of the bar. From this vantage-point his back was against the far wall, and he could easily see every nook and cranny in the place, plus all the comings and goings of the patrons as they passed through the heavy wooden doors.

As he relaxed into the atmosphere and the beings in the room began to ignore his presence, Strider started to concentrate on the groupings of people, focusing his attention and tuning his hearing to their conversations one by one. His hood hid his eyes and no one could tell where the ranger was looking. Smoke hung thick in the air from the pipes and the weed that was being put to use. The strong, heavy scent was not unpleasant and it masked the odor of the men around him.

He ignored the smaller beings that sat at the overly large tables, their feet barely touching the floor; hobbits. He had heard of them but as of yet had not had extensive dealings with their kind, for with the exception of one, they rarely, if ever, ventured near Rivendell and he was sure the tiny men had no news of import to him.

Raucous laughter diverted his attention. A group of men to his left was enjoying the evening – a little too much. The ale had loosened their tongues and one of them spoke arrogantly, boasting of his latest catch. They were hunters by their garb and their weapons. He knew they would be telling each other long tales full of lies, bragging about who was the best at their work, but the catch they boasted of now caused Aragorn’s heart to hammer in his chest and the bile to rise in his throat. He steadied himself and steeled his reactions as he listened as the man proceeded to describe how he had caught and beaten an elf half to death the previous day.

"The damn creature never would speak." The dark haired man laughed at his own joke, "Well not anything anyone could understand after we were through with him!" The table erupted in laughter.

"Now wait just a minute, Seon. You’re telling me you caught an elf bare handed with no help?" A man with bright blue eyes and hair the color of the earth leaned forward, questioning the braggart. His gaze was skeptical and his face weatherworn.

"No. That’s the most amazing part," Seon took a gulp of his swill, banging it down harder than necessary on the table, "the fool of an elf walked right up to me! Said he was looking for information and I says right back at him, ‘So’s I!’"

The table had quieted as they listened to him recount his capture and subsequent torture of the elf. The elf that had been Strider's best friend since the first day he had been brought to Rivendell. It was Moranuen who had befriended him almost immediately when all the other elves had been too busy to entertain the questions of a child. With the exceptions of his brothers and his father, Moranuen had always been the closest to being a part of his adoptive family. He closed his eyes as the men laughed about cutting the elf loose and how the being had barely been able to walk on his own.

"I shoved one of those wanted posters in his hand and gave him a quick kick to his backside to get him moving out of town." He laughed with the others as he recounted watching the elf try to pick himself up and limp away from them and the fear on the creature’s face.

The same fair face that Strider could see in his mind’s eye as he looked away from the men. When he had visited Moranuen before he had left for Strayton, the elf had still not woken. His face was bruised and his lips were cut, a bandage encircled his head where he had been brutally kicked. Elrond had said they had fractured Moranuen’s skull, he was not sure the elf would be the same *if* he ever woke. It took every ounce of strength Aragorn possessed to keep his seat and when the group of men called to him, he glared at them through narrowed eyes. Eyes hidden by his hood.

"Ranger!" Seon called to him from their table beckoning him with a wave of his hand, "Ranger! It's been a long time since any of your kind have visited Strayton. Join us for a drink, and tell us of the world beyond this sorry woodpile."

Aragorn raised the fingers of his hand and waved the invitation off, "Perhaps later my friend."

The hunter, undaunted by the ranger’s decline, turned back to the others and toasted the day’s hunt. Regaling his listeners with another tale that Aragorn was sure was more lie than truth. By the end of the hour the hunter had collected his men and left the tavern barely able to walk himself to the door.

The man named Taradin watched him go, shaking his head. He leaned over onto the young man next to him and indicated the retreating hunter, "You see that one Garith?" When the younger human nodded he continued, "You don’t want to grow up to be like that. That Seon’s more lie than he is truth. Never exaggerate your kills, everyone will know you’re not worth your pay."

"Do you believe that, what he said about that elf?" The smaller man looked up at the elder.

Taradin eyed the lad seriously, "That was the one time I don’t believe Seon was lying. He’s going to bring the wrath of them all down on us."

"What if that had been the killer elf?"

"Well, that would have been different, that one would have deserved whatever he got. But my lad, that murderer won't come up and ask you for directions. He’ll simply put a bolt in your heart and walk off and he most certainly would not come into Strayton." Taradin shook his head, "Don’t know where that elf came from but I hope he made it home to his kin."

Strider had been listening carefully to the conversation. Taradin felt the ranger’s eyes on him and turned towards the hooded man. Leaving his table he approached Strider and motioned back to the now empty seats where he had sat. "Be obliged if you joined us for a drink or two. I, for one, would very much like to hear of the goings on in other cities."

"I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good company right now." The ranger answered quietly.

Taradin nodded and pressed on, "Very well, but no man should drink alone. Garith and I will only be here for a few minutes more, join us."

Slowly, Aragorn stood and followed the hunter back to his table and the wide-eyed youth that sat there waiting for them. The youngster fixed Aragorn with a look akin to hero worship, his mouth dropping slightly as the ranger pushed his hood back and fixed his silver eyes on the young hunter. Whatever stories he had heard about the rangers had obviously made a very acute impression on the lad.

"Strider." He said by way of greeting, smiling at the boy. The young man couldn’t have been more than fifteen. His eyes were green like the forest and his hair red, like the sun at dusk. He had a slight build and still retained his boyish looks. He would have some growing to do.

Taradin sat down next to the youth and smiled back at the ranger, "His name’s Garith. I took him in when his father was killed a few years back by a pack of wargs when we was out hunting deer. The boy’s mother died in childbirth and seeing as how I never had no kin, he’s become my family."

Aragorn nodded and smiled sadly, "Good to meet you Garith. My parents died when I was young too."

"Really?" Garith stammered out. Taradin laughed at the boy and gave him a playful shove.

"Garith it's not polite to stare." The youngster looked horrified with himself and attempted to apologize but Aragorn stopped him, easily changing the subject.

"I couldn’t help but overhear your friend." The ranger fixed dark eyes on the hunter, "Strange conversation for people who live in the shadow of a realm of elves, wouldn’t you think?" When Taradin looked down into this glass and didn’t answer Strider pressed on, "It has always been my experience that elves do not meddle in the affairs of men, nor do men harass elves. Tell me what has happened that would change all that in the world of men?"

The hunter sighed deeply and fixed troubled blue eyes on the stranger, "Where have you been lately that you haven’t heard the happenings in the mountains east of Rivendell?"

Garith spoke quietly from where he sat at Taradin’s side, "There’s a rogue elf living up in them mountains near that elf city that’s been killing men."

Aragorn leaned forward and eyed the elder hunter, "Are you sure of this?"

Taradin nodded, "Two of the victims were my men, and I found them. No one should have to die like that." He glanced down at the boy next to him before continuing, "Garith, go fetch us more ale."

Garith jumped up and wandered merrily off towards the bar in obedience.

"He’s a good kid." Taradin watched him go, his eyes sad as he watched the youth, making sure he wasn’t given a hard time by the inebriated patrons near the bar, "Tis not for the boy's ears, he hasn’t seen enough of the world yet to know how hard it can be. He’ll learn soon enough." When he was satisfied the boy was doing fine he returned his attention to the ranger and finished his explanation, "They were shot through with arrows. But not so’s they’d die right away if you get my meaning. They were bound, stripped of their clothes and left there to die."

The muscles in Aragorn’s jaw tighten and he swallowed against the anger in him, Taradin was right, no being deserved to die in fear and pain like that. "How do you know it’s an elf doing it?" He pressed, his emotions repressed, his countenance a mask of false calm.

The hunter dropped his eyes, his lips tightening as he remembered, "I found that foul creature standing over two of my men. Elbamir, he wasn’t dead yet. I chased the elf off, think I might have surprised him or I would be dead now too. Was lucky that’s all." He stopped and collected himself before continuing, "Elbamir said that the elf was the one that killed Zarrinor and the elf forced him to watch. He said the elf admitted to killing them all. All them men that’s gone missing here the last few years, said he hated men and Middle Earth needed to be rid of them. Elbamir died in my arms, I’ve known him since we was little, he didn’t deserve to die that way. Rinvan, my sharpest shot was hit by that demon but we got away before he could catch us. We been hunting him ever since."

Garith walked back up to the table, balancing three huge mugs of ale, and seated himself excitedly across from Aragorn, his youthful exuberance causing a smile to pull at the corners of the ranger’s mouth as he thanked the young man for the drink.

Taradin continued, "We spotted him once up on the mountain high above the northern pass into Rivendell, strangest of all places being that high up, but never again that near that area. Always since we seen him, he’s been down by the ruins, haunting that forsaken place close by the north pass just above the gorge of Rivendell. We try to stay away from there, but the boys do have a want to catch that elf. Our men aren’t the only ones to go missing." He glanced at Garith and ruffled the boy’s hair as he looked fondly down into the huge green eyes.

The youngster turned to Aragorn watching him carefully before questioning the ranger, "Don’t suppose you could help us Mr. Ranger, sir?"

Aragorn smiled slightly, "Please, it’s Strider. I might be interested in joining your party if Taradin wouldn’t mind the company for a few nights. I’d like to see if I couldn’t track down that elf for myself. Be interested in finding out who he is."

The hunter nodded and extended the invitation, "You’re welcome to join us, we are heading back out tonight. We just stopped into town for a few more supplies."

"What’s your business in that area if you don’t mind my asking." Aragorn leaned forward resting his chin on his hands.

"No, not at all." Taradin leaned back in his chair, tipping the wooden seat until it rested on only its back two legs. "We are hunters, we live here in Strayton and do our hunting above Rivendell in the good seasons. Been real safe until just a few months back, leastwise for us that is. Don’t know what’s got into those elves. Posted a warning on their gate myself, day before yesterday. No creature owns the whole woods like that. Them sending out assassins on us just ain’t very neighborly. They coulda just asked us to go and I would have packed my men out of there."

Aragorn sighed deeply, this was worse than he thought. There was a dark elf in the woods hunting men and now the men had turned against every elf they encountered. No good would come of this, "Have you spoken with the lord of Rivendell?"

Taradin snorted in disgust, "Nah, there ain’t no talking to elves. Seon and his men caught one in town day before yesterday, roughed him up a bit, but he wouldn’t spill anything."

"Roughed him up a bit?" Aragorn's eyes grew dark as they spoke so easily about his best friend. "From what I heard they nearly killed him. How do you think that will look to the residents of Rivendell?"

The accusation hit the hunter more deeply than he wished to admit and he brushed the challenge aside, not caring to deal with the situation at the moment, he wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have done the same thing had he been in Seon’s place, if he had thought the elf was the rogue that is. The whole affair was starting to grate on the men’s nerves and he was afraid that it would only end badly.

Dismissing the ranger's question he shrugged, "Well, them elves can take a whole lota beating. Besides I guess they finally let him go and sent him home with a message." Taradin took out a yellowed square of paper from his pocket. It was a copy of the wanted poster that Aragorn had seen earlier. The hunter unfolded it and smoothed out the creases before passing it to the ranger, "This the elf we are looking for."

Aragorn eyed the drawing for the second time that day, the difference in the elves striking home harder now that he had heard the callousness with which the men of Strayton considered the elves. "Odd, it doesn’t look anything like the elf Seon beat up."

Taradin’s eyes narrowed, "What would you know about that elf ranger?"

Aragorn returned the dark stare, "I overheard Seon talking about him. He said the elf had dark hair, according to the description, this one is blonde."

The ranger’s gaze and the truth in his statement made Taradin uncomfortable and he took a drink of ale before muttering, "You seen one elf you seen ‘em all. They all related anyway." He shrugged off the feelings of guilt that ate at his stomach.

Aragorn bit back his frustration and the sigh that almost escaped his lips. He had had quite enough of bigotry over the last few months but sometimes it seemed all of Middle Earth was tainted with its stain.

Taradin changed the subject, turning the question back on the ranger, "What, you ain’t no friend of them elves now are you? Didn’t think you rangers were friends of no one."

Aragorn waited his timing and shrugged his shoulders, staring at the man. "I’ve known my share of elves. Just interested in the goings on here in these parts." He handed the paper back and took one more drink of the ale, draining his mug.

The hunter re-pocketed the wanted sign and followed suit. "Well we best be back to camp, they’ll be wondering if we’re all right or not. Garith, go pay the man." Taradin handed the youngster a few coins and pushed away from the table. "Care to join us?"

Aragorn nodded and before long the three of them were on their way, Aragorn having notified the innkeeper that he would not be needing a room for the night after all.

Taradin’s camp was not far away, but the stars were already pulling themselves from their slumber by the time they got there. The camp was somewhere between 15 to 20 men strong, but many of them were already bedded down for the night. Fires burned low and after a round of general introductions with the men that greeted them, Taradin showed Aragorn to an unoccupied sleeping place and bid him a good night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was early before the sun had risen when Aragorn woke and stirred from his resting place. He quietly rose and stole away from the sleeping camp. He intended to go search out the area that Taradin had told him about where they had originally surprised the dark elf and he did not want any of the hunters tagging along with him, he knew he could travel quicker and more quietly on his own. He did not think as the others did, that the elf had simply been walking through the forest in that area hunting the men. The fact that the men had not glimpsed the elf there again bothered him. If he were an elf he would make sure to draw the intruders away from his abode, keeping his sanctuary clear of them. He tried to put his thoughts into those of the dark elf’s. How would he think? How would he act? Where would he go?

The forests where the elf had originally been seen were thick and old and the ways and passages through them were overgrown and dark. The area did not hold the sense of evil that he thought one might expect, but Aragorn had the distinct feeling that he was being watched and so he kept his guard up, treading lightly, his passage through the undergrowth silent.

The path he was on suddenly disappeared and the tracks ended. In frustration he stopped and looked around him, smelling the wind, listening to the sounds about him. His sharp eyes caught a break in the foliage to his right and on impulse he walked towards the odd pattern that had been created in the green carpet. A very light, slightly overgrown, but well used path lay hidden beneath the leafy canopy. Only an elf could use the same path repeatedly and not bear the foliage down with his weight. Tracking elves was something that the best human hunters had a hard time with, but the ranger knew what to look for, what to expect. He picked up the barely perceptible run and tracked the rogue high into the forest, following the minute, telltale signs.

Presently Aragorn came upon a small glade set against the hills on the edge of the upper forests where the foliage turned to small brush and stunted trees. The tiny glade backed up against the face of a sheer granite cliff. Trees hugged the rock face and grew down the sides; their boughs bent low towards the ground, lichen and moss covered the rock around them. But there was a scent on the air that was foreign to the forest. Spices mixed with the smell of burning wood. The scent was old but yet not quite swept away; testimony to the presence of a human or some being.

Aragorn cautiously walked forward, drawing his sword from its scabbard, the metal singing quietly as it was unsheathed. The wind sighed through the gorge below him sweeping up through the forests and brushing past the ranger as it climbed up the mountain. The trees at the foot of the granite bowed under its gentle onslaught and the flicker of metal beyond their branches caught the human’s attention.

Confused, Aragorn stepped forward and parted the foliage. Astonished, he stood still on the threshold. Behind the covering of the trees the granite had been hollowed out in the shape of an inverted bowl. Less a cave and more a deep shallow, the natural concave have been turned into a dwelling place. Aragorn surmised that this was where the dark elf lived as he entered the now empty hovel, scanning the interior quickly.

A small hammock hung suspended to the left. Metal spikes had been hammered into the rock face and the sleeping bed had been hung between them in the curve of the shelf. To his right was a small desk that sat in front of a bookshelf carved from the rock itself. It held a few precious books on it and a journal lay open on the desk an old quill laid near it. A near empty ink well, perched precariously on the bookshelf, attested to the fact that lair was used, and often. Aragorn turned the open book towards him. The words inside were penned in elvish, but that was no hindrance for him and he quickly read the last few lines.

The journal left off there. The entry was dated that morning although the date had a question mark beside it as though the writer were not entirely sure what day or year it truly was. The ranger looked about him with new insights into the writer’s mind. He noticed for the first time the articles that were definitely not of elven nature. The small stack of clothing, neatly folded and placed in a nitch in the rock. Removing one dark green shirt, he shook the tunic out and fingered the tear near the right shoulder; there was dried blood on the cloth. A small pile of assorted shoes lay on the floor, some already had been taken apart, their leather and soles having been put to some other use now that their owners no longer needed them.

Aragorn shuddered involuntarily as the last entry in the journal repeated itself in his mind-

His father was right; this truly was a dark elf. Something inside the ranger resonated; he had been here too long. He needed to leave and leave now. His brothers had taught him to trust his instincts and they were screaming at him to get out. He replaced everything like it had been and crept back to the hidden entrance. Every sense was alert as he stepped out into the glade. It was quiet in the surrounding forest, but he could still hear the buzzing of the grass bugs and the sounds of the birds in the canopy above him.

Making quickly for the edge of the clearing Aragorn had almost gained the trees when he paused mid-step, the sounds of the forest about him had abruptly ceased. Slowly, he gazed around him, turning back to stare at the elf’s hidden lair. He froze in his tracks and watched as the rogue elf stood before his makeshift home, bow drawn and arrow notched, his eyes locked on the young ranger. He had approached so quietly that Aragorn had not even heard him.

The ranger was sure that his heart was sighted by the tip of the arrow aimed at him. Cautiously, he turned to fully face the elf. The warrior was not of Noldor descent. His hair was blonde and long and swept back from his face by a catch at the nape of his neck. His eyes were blue and his face was fair. His clothing, though worn, definitely resembled that of the wood elves and his body was lithe and strong just like one accustomed to living in the forests. If Aragorn hadn’t known better, at first glance, he would have thought he were gazing at his friend Legolas. But as he watched the Silvan elf, he could see the differences, differences lost on most humans who thought all elves looked alike. He was slightly surprised to notice that the elf was lowering his bow. The ranger raised his empty hands slightly palms up, showing the elf he was unarmed. He really hadn’t come to battle the rogue, he was just seeking information.

As he gazed at Aragorn, the elf dropped his bow slightly. The eyes on the young human reminded him of someone he once knew and the resemblance of spirit threw him off his guard. But it couldn’t be. That one’s mate had left years ago; it was impossible was it not? And this was no heir of Noldor; it was a human. The oddity of it stopped him. His mind fell to memories long ago lost to him and yet so seemingly recent; how long had it truly been? He turned his attention to the gorge of Rivendell, wondering to himself. And yet this human had been in his things, knew where his home was, he could not let the man live. Raising his bow he sighted back on the man, but where the ranger had been standing moments before there was no one. The dark elf smiled slightly to himself. Let the man go back and tell his friends, let them all come. He would wait for them and he would not let them get away this time, not any of them, not even the ranger with the curious eyes. Stalking back into his lair the rogue elf prepared for the inevitable.

Aragorn ran and did not look back. He could not hear the elf pursuing him but he did not wait to find out if he would. It had surprised him when the elf had dropped his weapon and he found it very odd that the rogue warrior had looked toward Rivendell. The ranger could have sworn that there was longing in the elf’s eyes as though he were reliving some memory from his past. However that moment of inattention was all the young human had needed and he had taken the opportunity to flee.

When he had reached the path back to the hunter’s camp, Aragorn finally slowed down and stopped, listening carefully to his surroundings for any hint of a pursuer. But no sounds assaulted his ears save the soft noises of the forest and the rapid beating of his own heart. Leaning over, the ranger rested his hands on his knees and caught his breath, waiting for his heart to slow down before he began the final walk back to camp.

He knew the elf would be watching for him now. He had been caught in the rogue’s territory, so there would be no safe way of walking back in. He had been targeted; he would need to be extra careful that he did not endanger the hunters any more than they already had themselves. With all the information that he had sought now in his possession he would need to find a way to return to Rivendell and inform Elrond. Aragorn had the very distinct suspicion that the elderly elf would be more than interested and probably not at all surprised when he told him what he had discovered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Legolas Greenleaf turned his face towards the rising sun as it worked its way up the eastern sky. He had broken camp when the glowing orb was still extracting itself from the distant horizon and had already covered a good distance since then.

All yesterday and today he had been slowly descending down the western foothills of the Misty Mountains and today he hoped to make Rivendell by sundown. A fortnight ago the Prince of Mirkwood had promised to pay a visit to his young friend Aragorn, adopted son of Lord Elrond and that was where he was going now.

The journey between Mirkwood and Rivendell and the path over the Misty Mountains was hardly an easy one, but Legolas had encountered no serious problems or obstacles. The only real trouble he had had was discovering that hunting packs of wolves and wargs were ranging near the rift that he would have normally taken to get to Rivendell. However, even that was no more than a mere inconvenience, for it simply meant that he had to take the high pass over instead. The high pass was a little bit longer and added at least a half a day’s travel onto his trip, but that was not too much of a price to pay to avoid having to deal with any warg packs, especially since Legolas traveled alone.

Originally, the prince had thought to bring Raniean or Trelan, or some of his other friends with him, but for one reason or another none of them had proved to be available at this time and Legolas preferred traveling alone to traveling with any kind of royal escort. His father had long ago given up trying to force the young prince to take his guards with him when he went out. Legolas could take care of himself.

Yet no one could have foreseen what would happen, and certainly Legolas himself had no premonitions that morning as he made his way lightly through the trees and down a sloping hill towards a dished valley, dotted with the ruined remains of some once-mighty fortress or dwelling that was now busy crumbling itself slowly into the dust.

From a distance off, several pairs of eyes caught the elf’s unconcealed movements and their brows darkened.

Taradin watched the elf pick his way nimbly across the crumbling ruins with a dark scowl. "There you are again then you devil," he muttered quietly to himself. "Well the shoe’s on the other foot this time, isn’t it?"

Legolas moved easily across the broken ground, unaware of the men that watched him. He felt sure that there were others in the area somewhere, but whether they were friend or foe he did not know. However, this close to Rivendell he was not particularly worried.

Suddenly Taradin looked up to see that the man beside him had risen and laid an arrow across the strings of his longbow. The fellow was tracking the elf in his sites, about to fire.

"Hamset! No!" Taradin leapt to his feet just as the arrow left the bow, slightly spoiling the archer’s aim.

"You idiot!" Taradin shouted. "I wanted him alive!"

The ruins dropped away sharply on their eastern edge and Legolas leaped lightly down, not perturbed by the eight-foot drop. The prince had just jumped off when his sharp eleven ears picked up the distinctive sound of a bow twanging. Mid-air, there was no way he could react to the perceived threat and a moment later he felt a sharp, burning pain lance through the side of his left thigh, about five inches above his knee.

Startled by these events, Legolas was unprepared to land and hit the ground hard, his injured leg giving way under him so that he ended up pitching to his hands and knees on the stony earth.

Wincing, the elf rose quickly to his feet, obviously favoring the left. He spared a quick glance down to see the sickening sight of the arrow protruding from his lower thigh, but had not the time to do anything about it. Whoever had shot him was still out there and he had better get to cover quickly. Unable to keep from limping, Legolas quickly put the face of the plateau he had just jumped off of between himself and the direction from which the arrow had come.

Taradin swore at having lost the element of surprise as he watched the elf limp swiftly away. "Get down there and get him! Now!" he shouted at his men, but they were already in motion. With a wave of his arm, Taradin motioned for his men on the opposite side of the plateau to move in.

Pulling his own bow off his back and fitting an arrow on the strings, Legolas peered warily around the edge of his hiding place, but from this angle could not see anyone, nor get a clear shot at them even had he been able to.

The elf grit his teeth against the pain radiating from his injury as he forced his leg to support him, hurrying towards the woods about 300 yards distant. Besides the scanty cover of the ruins, this area was wide and open; a terrible place to be trapped if someone was shooting at you. Legolas intended to get to some suitable cover as soon as he could.

Taradin’s men burst from around the other side of the ruins, right on the elf’s heels.

Legolas considered turning to fire at them, but already slowed by his injury, he did not want to risk the time it would take, especially since for whatever reason, they were not shooting at him at the moment.

The elf stumbled, but pressed on, infuriated by the clumsiness brought on by his injury. He could never outrun them like this, or even get enough distance between them so that he could make use of his bow without making himself vulnerable.

Reaching the trees with the men literally right behind him, Legolas slung his bow back over his shoulder as he sprung up to catch hold of the lower branch of a white oak, grimacing as he pulled his injured leg up onto the limb with him. He was reaching for the next branch above his head, when one of the men caught hold of his injured ankle, yanking the elf’s foot out from under him.

Legolas grabbed for the branch to steady himself, going for his knives. He didn’t get the chance, for at that moment one of the men grabbed the arrow still protruding from his leg and used it like a handle, yanking down hard.

The sudden, shocking burst of agony swept over Legolas’ senses, flooding all his perceptions with a haze of pain as his feet were half pulled, half slipped out from under him. The abrupt jerk ripped the arrow completely out of his leg, pulling Legolas downward as it did so. The elf tried to catch himself as he fell, but the tangle of hands grabbing and clutching at him threw off his balance and hampered his attempt.

Legolas twisted away as he slammed into the ground on his hands and knees, landing more heavily on his injured side than the other, causing another brilliant flash of pain to jolt through his leg. The elf was given no time to collect himself, for before he had even finished hitting the ground, one of the men brought the hilt of a sword down violently across the back of the elf’s skull.

Legolas crumpled forward to the ground, dazed by the powerful impact. Two more equally vicious blows rendered the stunned elf unconscious.

Taradin arrived at just about that time. He looked darkly at the elf’s unmoving form, until he was quickly assured that the prisoner was unconscious only. "Good," he grunted as the unresponsive elf was bound and hefted up between two of his men. "This one’s got a lot of answering to do before he dies. Take him back to camp!"

___________________________________________________________________
~*PART THREE*~

Legolas was brought back to consciousness by a slap of cold water and someone shaking him roughly, which did nothing for his throbbing headache.

Right after his headache, the next thing he noticed was the pain in his leg. Then his wrists... but why did they hurt? With a shock the elf realized that his hands were tied tightly together above his head, with the rope that bound them looped up over a high branch that held him upright and barely allowed his feet to fully touch the ground. Additional coils of rope around his chest and legs held him firmly against the tree at his back.

For a moment a bright flare of panic at his own helplessness washed over the elf before he got control of himself and pressed it down to a dull fear. What did these men want with him? Forcing his eyes open and struggling to bring the blurry world into focus, he could have sworn that he recognized none of them.

"Finally, you’re awake," Taradin said somewhat impatiently.

"What do you want with me?" Legolas forced the grogginess from his voice, keeping it remarkably clear and strong for his condition. "I have very little that is worth stealing and I think you will find me rather expensive quarry if anything ill should befall me," he said calmly.

Taradin rolled his eyes. "Don’t be cute. I’m sick of you picking off my men and playing games with us. You’ve fooled us before, not now. I want answers and I want them straight. If you’re smart, you’ll cooperate with me," he warned.

Legolas’ brow crinkled in confusion and irritation. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, release me!" The pain in his head from the repeated blows was bad and it was making it hard to think, so he wasn’t quite sure if the man actually wasn’t making sense, or if he was just having trouble processing what was said.

Taradin shrugged. "I’ll get it out of you one way or another. If you want to play games with us, I can do that too. He pulled a small flask out of the front of his shirt and uncapped it. "Thirsty?" he asked Legolas, offering him the bottle.

Actually, Legolas was, but something in Taradin’s eyes concerned him and there was no way he was voluntarily taking *anything* from these people. Turning his head, he refused.

With shocking suddenness, Taradin drew back his large fist and slammed the elf upside the head with incredible force, rocketing Legolas’ head back into the tree behind him. Starbursts exploded across the prince’s vision at the treatment of his already battered skull and he nearly blacked out again.

Legolas wasn’t even aware that Taradin had pressed the flask to his mouth or poured its contents down his throat until he felt a strange burning in the back of his mouth and realized that there was liquid there and his body was swallowing automatically to keep his airway clear. The elf coughed and tried to spit whatever it was out, but he was still dazed and weak. Taradin grabbed his jaw and roughly forced his mouth shut, holding the prince’s nose until Legolas was forced to swallow the rest of the liquid or else choke himself.

With that accomplished, Taradin released the prisoner and stepped back, watching and waiting. He was sure there was no mistake being made this time. He had seen this elf before, he would recognize him anywhere. And this elf would pay for the cold-blooded murder of his friends.

Legolas let his head fall back against the rough bark of the tree behind him. Blinking his eyes to try to clear his mind as he felt a strange, light-headedness creeping over him. Pain lanced between his temples and it seemed to him that he was having trouble with conscious thought, or at least, his control over his conscious thought.

Frighteningly enough he felt as if whatever they had introduced into his system was attempting to pry control of his body, his thoughts and his words away from him and place that power in the hands of his captors. The elf steeled his jaw. He was not about to let that happen if he could help it.

Wave after wave of dull nausea swept over the prince and he closed his eyes tightly against the pain that was spreading slowly throughout his body. When he opened them again he found that the lead man was watching him intently. Obviously they knew very well what Legolas was going through right now.

"What have you done to me?" Legolas asked through sluggish lips. Even forming the words in his mind seemed hard. He did not like what he felt happening.

"Ensured that we’ll get a little truth out of you, that’s all," Taradin said darkly, watching the elf’s eyes. They were sufficiently glazed and cloudy now, he knew the dragon water he had administered had taken effect. "With this stuff in you, you can’t lie to us, and that’s good because I’ve got plenty of questions that I want honest answers to."

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" Legolas asked, wincing and rubbing his forehead against the side of one of his bound arms, wishing he could rub out the headache. Taradin’s voice throbbed painfully in his head and he wished he could escape the ache of it.

"I’m one of those people you’ve been trying to kill, elf!" Taradin said with controlled anger. "Or don’t you pay attention to who you’re shooting at anymore? I was a friend of Elbamir and Zarrinor and I will see you pay for what you did to them!"

Legolas’ brow creased in growing confusion, which added to his pounding headache. "I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’ve never seen you before in my life. Let me go."

Taradin struck the elf across the face, knocking Legolas’ head back into the tree behind him again and making a small trickle of blood run down the corner of the prince’s chin.

Legolas stifled a moan at the pain that the blow caused to explode across his senses. Many more like that and he was going to black out again, whether Taradin wanted him to or not. His head lolled limply to the side and for a few moments he did not have the strength, or the will to raise it again.

Taradin grabbed the elf’s long hair near his scalp on one side of his skull and tugged Legolas’ head up. "I’m not going to play games with you elf! I want to know why you’re killing my people, and if there are any more of you involved in this!"

"I don’t know what you’re... talking about..." Legolas licked his bleeding lip. What else could he tell them? The drug in his system was robbing him of much ability for rational thought, but he was beginning to think that these men must have mistaken him for someone else. "I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not."

"Right. Then who are you?" Taradin demanded harshly.

Being bound and questioned by these men, especially now that this drug had put him into a highly suggestive state, was bringing back evil memories to the prince’s mind, memories of the last time he had been taken captive, beaten and questioned by men. They had wanted to know who he was too. Legolas’ sluggish, reeling mind seized up and refused to allow an answer. He would not tell these men who he really was. He didn’t know them, the truth could be dangerous. Besides, he doubted they would believe him. "Not whoever you think I am..." Legolas’ words slurred slightly. It was the truth, just not all of it.

Taradin scowled. "Right. Garith, get me another vial of the dragon water. One obviously isn’t doing the trick." Legolas was right, the man would not have believed who his captive was even had he been told at this point.

The young man complied, although he hesitated slightly when handing it over. "This is pretty potent stuff... I thought you weren’t supposed to give more than one dose at a time?"

Taradin shrugged. "Maybe it’s different for elves. They’re not like us. Besides," his look turned dangerous. "It’s not like he’s got very long to live anyway."

Uncorking the small bottle, Taradin ordered Legolas to drink it and to the elf’s surprised horror, he did as he was commanded. Obviously, the drug was working better than Taradin thought it was. The only reason Legolas did not speak was because he did not know what they wanted.

The man’s reasoning was faulty. Two doses of dragon water were too much for anyone’s body, man or elf alike.

Legolas pressed himself back against the tree, fighting the urge for his knees to buckle under the double-assault of the drug. He began to tremble as the overdose took full affect. His heart pounded as if it were trying to beat out of his chest and his breathing caught and hitched spasmodically, leaving him gasping for air. He twisted his wrists feverishly in the bonds that held them over his head, but to no effect. The drug tore at his mind, creating a blinding haze of pain inside his head, so sharp that he actually saw rending flashes of light obscuring his vision and making the world a hazy yellow color.

The elf gasped in pain, moaning softly between shuddering breaths as the drug ripped the last of his ability for conscious, rational thought away from him, leaving his mind a confused jumble, overridden with blinding agony.

"Are there others?!" Taradin demanded. "Where were you operating from? Tell me!" he was nearly shouting and Legolas flinched away from the loud sound.

"I-I don’t k-know..." Legolas murmured helplessly, shuddering as the dragon water coursed violently through his veins.

"You’re lying!" Taradin struck him roughly in the stomach and Legolas doubled over as far as the ropes allowed him. "Where?!"

Legolas nearly sobbed at the agony spearing through him. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was suffocating and his body’s warning signals kicked in, adding panic to his already over-loaded senses. The throbbing pain of Taradin’s questions were like knives inside his head, yet he couldn’t answer, he couldn’t give them what they wanted because there was nothing there. He couldn’t make it stop, couldn’t satisfy the harsh demands being placed on him. He didn’t know!

"I-I c-can’t..." he was almost sobbing now. The substance in his blood was demanding that he give them what they wanted and he was unable to obey.

Taradin and his men took no pity on the elf. "What were you doing in the ruins? Where were you going?" the questions pressed harder and harder until Legolas felt like he was going to scream.

"What were you doing there?!" the question came again.

"A-Aragorn..." Legolas was almost fully delirious by now and he no longer even knew what he was saying. He never would have said anything about his friend otherwise. "Aragorn..." he had been going to see the young ranger, but right now he couldn’t find strength or breath or peace of mind enough to even finish a thought. He winced and dropped his head forward, battling incredible pain.

Taradin was beside himself with rage. Two doses of dragon water in him and the creature still wouldn’t talk? What kind of inhuman beast were they dealing with? "If you want to be stubborn, I can teach you not to be," he threatened darkly.

Picking up a thick branch from the pile of firewood, Taradin struck the elf in the ribs. Once, twice, three times... Legolas cried out helplessly, much too far gone to attempt any kind of control over his hurting body.

Several of the other men followed his lead, picking up clubs of their own. When they all started in on him, Legolas did not even have enough breath to scream. He felt himself slipping away swiftly, falling towards the darkness of either death or unconsciousness, he knew not which, nor did he care, so long as it took him away from the agony that he was in right now.

"Aragorn..." delirious, he called out for his friend before the darkness claimed him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aragorn made his way up the hill, deep in thought. He walked slowly back to the men’s camp, still disturbed by the fact that the dark elf hadn’t killed him outright. It was almost as if the elf had thought he recognized the human. He was wondering what a Silvan elf was doing this far from his people’s lands and what his father would say about the rogue’s strange actions, when a young man came running up the path towards him.

Garith saw him and ran out to meet the ranger before he was even fully in sight of camp.

"Strider, you’ll never guess what happened while you were gone!" Garith said excitedly, obviously pleased with himself.

Aragorn repressed a small smile at the younger man’s enthusiasm. At fifteen, Garith was the youngest of Taradin’s group. On the whole, Aragorn had found these men to be a lot more impulsive and less... scrupulous, than the Dunèdain, or other rangers he was used to working with. But they weren’t a bad lot...

Garith didn’t wait for the ranger to speak, but continued on breathlessly. "We caught him! We caught the dark elf!"

Aragorn’s eyebrows quirked upward sharply as they entered the camp. "Really? How did you-" the young man stopped short, horror shooting up his spine when he saw the fair-haired elf that was bound to the birch tree on the opposite side of the campfire. The elf’s hands were tied together over his head, suspended from a tree branch above him, and a second coil of rope around the elf’s chest and legs held him in a standing position. The fair being’s head had fallen forward and his golden hair spilled about his face, clinging to fresh blood that marred one corner of the elf’s smooth mouth and right temple. His body hung heavily against the ropes that held him.

The young ranger froze, his face going pale. Oh no. This couldn’t be happening.

Garith was still talking, not having noticed the change in his companion’s demeanor. "Gave us a hell of a lot of trouble. Taradin gave him a double-dose of the dragon water, but he still won’t talk..."

Aragorn finally shook off enough of his shock to find words. "You idiots!" he nearly shouted as Garith’s last words sunk in. "By the heavens, what have you done?!" Crossing the camp quickly, Aragorn brushed his friend’s hair gently back from his face, lightly examining the elf’s wounds.

Barely half-conscious and still under the influence of the dragon water, Legolas flinched at his touch and tried to draw back. His eyes were unfocused and hazy and he did not seem to recognize his friend, if he even saw him. He had passed out earlier, only to come back to a hazy semi-awareness about fifteen minutes ago. Yet it was as if he were trapped between two worlds, hanging somewhere in limbo and fully aware of neither.

Hot anger burned bright inside Aragorn’s chest as he quickly pulled a knife from his boot and cut the ropes that held his friend’s hands strung above his head. Legolas slumped forward limply and Aragorn caught him. The elf hissed in pain at his touch and the young ranger began to fear that his friend had taken more hurt than he could see.

"What are you *doing* Strider, are you crazy?!" Taradin demanded as he stalked quickly over. "He might get away! Have you forgotten what I told you this devil did to Zarrinor and Elbamir? What they looked like... How they died... He doesn’t deserve our mercy!"

Aragorn’s eyes flashed as he defiantly cut the rest of the ropes and lowered Legolas gently to the ground. His mind was still whirling. He hadn’t known that Legolas was anywhere in the area, and guilt washed over him as he realized that the prince had probably been on his way to Rivendell to see him, just as they had planned a fortnight ago. "I haven’t forgotten Taradin, but you have let your anger and your hate blind you! You have the wrong elf!"

Taradin’s brow furrowed darkly. "What are you *talking* about Strider? We caught him skulking about the ruins, just like he was the other night when he shot at us!" He did not like being rebuked by the younger man, nor the idea that he had captured and tortured the wrong person. It was impossible... wasn't it? "Look I don’t care if you are a Ranger. This is *my* territory and my people. I give the orders. Now you put him back up there or I’ll-"

"Don’t be a fool!" Aragorn shook his head angrily as he checked Legolas’ vitals. The elf’s heart was beating way too fast and his skin was clammy. His body trembled softly and his breathing was uneven at best. People could die from being given too much dragon water, and somehow Aragorn felt sure that Taradin and his people had been none too careful about how much they administered.

"Taradin, I’m telling you, you have made a grave mistake! This elf is my friend! He’s saved my life more than once, you think I wouldn’t know him? This is Legolas, son of Thranduil and *prince* of Mirkwood!" Aragorn said as he gently unclasped Legolas’ dirty, torn tunic. His ire raised several notches at what he found there. Deep, purple-black bruises mottled Legolas’ chest, shoulders and torso. Just looking at them was painful. If the elf had no broken ribs it would be a miracle.

Some of the bruises had crisp, clear edges and Aragorn guessed that Legolas had been clubbed repeatedly with a blunt object, probably *after* he had been tied to the tree, judging from the placement of the bruises. The elf moaned softly as Aragorn passed his hands probingly over his bruised ribs. The moan turned into a sharp hiss when he pressed on the third rib down and Legolas convulsed upward slightly, confirming Aragorn’s fear that his friend had at least one broken rib, probably more.

Aragorn soothingly pressed his friend back down and turned a hard glare on Taradin, who was trying to process Aragorn’s shocking words. "You’d better pray he lives Taradin," the young ranger said darkly. "Or you won’t have to wait for King Thranduil to seek retribution on you, I’ll demand satisfaction myself."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The fire burned low and still Aragorn sat attentively by his friend’s side. He had done what he could for the elf, there was nothing to do now but wait. If by morning Legolas had not taken a turn for the better, Aragorn was going to take him back to Rivendell, to Elrond, mission be damned.

Garith sat quietly nearby, watching them. He felt incredibly guilty about his part in all this, now that they knew they had the wrong person, and had tried to help Aragorn as much as he could.

Legolas stirred and murmured, still delirious. "Aragorn? Aragorn..."

Aragorn bit his lip and gently placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders. "Shh... shh... it’s all right Legolas. It’s all right." He could not admit to belonging to that name here in the midst of Taradin’s people, who knew him only as Strider.

Garith scooted forward slightly. "He keeps calling that name," the young man said softly. "Earlier, after Taradin gave him the dragon water, when we were... when they- when they thought he was the dark one," Garith said uncomfortably, obviously not wishing to say: "when we were beating him" to Strider’s face. "He called that out several times."

Aragorn let his head sink into his hand, turning away so that Garith could not see how the words affected him.

"Does that mean something to you?" Garith inquired, peering curiously at the young ranger.

Aragorn shrugged. "Somebody we both know." He attempted to be light, but the fact that Legolas had been calling for him when he was drugged and being tortured tore at his heart, along with the burning knowledge that he had not been there. Legolas had been there for him when the orcs had him in Moria, but when Legolas needed him...

Aragorn pressed his palms into his eyes, taking a deep breath. Legolas was going to be all right. This was going to work out, somehow...

When Legolas called out to him again the ranger could stand it no longer and leaned over the elf prince, quietly slipping into the grey tongue he spoke softly, knowing the elf could easily hear him. He gently placed his hand on his friend’s chest and stilled his movements.

"Legolas it is Strider. I am here, it’s all right now. I am so sorry my friend." The elf stirred at the sound of his voice, the words soothing his fears and nightmares. When he saw the effect his words had he chastised himself for not doing so earlier.

"Strider, how do you know elfspeak?" Garith started to move closer to hear the ranger's words more clearly, but Aragorn quickly raised his hand and stopped the young man.

Legolas was slowly regaining consciousness.

"Course he talks elfspeak," Taradin looked up from where he sat across the fire, slowly burnishing the edge of his sword with a whetstone, "he’s a ranger Garith. What’d you expect? They all speak it."

Aragorn was sure that wasn’t true but he let the statement slide as he moved nearer Legolas, blocking the elf’s view of the rest of the camp. He didn’t want the first face his friend saw to be that of the men that had beaten him earlier.

"Garith," The ranger turned back to the young man, "could you move around the fire and stay over near Taradin until Legolas is fully awake."

"You think he’ll be trouble?" Garith eyed the elf warily.

"I think you and the men beat him and I don’t think he’s going to want to see you right away." Aragorn’s words had more of bite to them than he had intended. "I’m sorry Garith, just give us some space all right?" He smiled gently at the youth as the boy nodded and moved to sit next to Taradin.

Legolas' hand touched Aragorn’s where it lay on the elf’s chest, bringing the human attention quickly back to the wounded prince. "Legolas?"

Legolas' head hurt and the light from the fire was so bright. He was slightly surprised to find that he was lying on the ground and no longer bound. Someone was leaning over him speaking his name but it was hard to focus.

"Ara..." The ranger pressed the fingers of his free hand gently against the elf’s lips, quieting him.

"No, it’s me, Strider." He smiled down into the bleary silver-blue eyes.

Legolas was at once tense beneath his hand, Aragorn was hiding who he was and it alarmed the elf.

The ranger felt the change in his companion and immediately put him at ease, "No, it’s all right. I am using the name you gave because we are still in the camp of men. They do not know who I am and they mistook you for someone else. They know now they were wrong." He spoke the words in elvish and felt free enough to partly explain the truth to Legolas since it was obvious that no one here could understand them. The elf’s eyes were locked onto his but he hadn’t relaxed. "We aren’t far from my house. Tomorrow I am going to take you there. I’ll think up something."

Legolas tried to look around them at the others nearby, he could hear them and he was not at all comfortable in the situation he found himself. Aragorn caught the side of his face with his hand and redirected the elf’s eyes back to his own. "I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you."

"It hurts." Legolas winced curled in on himself slightly, "Hurts to breathe."

Aragorn sighed, leaning forward until his forehead touched the elf’s, "I know," he whispered, "you have a broken rib and a lot bruising my friend and your leg is not doing well where that arrow was ripped from it."

Legolas was taking small breaths and holding them as long as possible as waves of nausea warred with the pain in his chest. "What else?"

"The water you were forced to drink is a toxin, a drug." Aragorn sat back on his heels and looked down into the pain filled eyes. "Damn, I should have been here." He cursed himself reverting to common speech. He gently dipped a cloth in a small bowl of cool water and wiped the perspiration from the elf’s face.

"Poison?" Legolas queried slowly. He had had more than his share of scrapes with various toxins in the past year or so.

"No," the ranger shook his head switching back to elvish, "no, you just wish it was. It’s more like a – a truth serum of sorts. It’ll wear off. In time." He smiled slightly trying to lighten the situation. "It’ll wear off faster if we get some fluids in you."

When Legolas shook his head the ranger laughed, "Now you wouldn’t want me to make a scene would you?"

The elf glared at him darkly. "Are they all still here?" Meaning the ones who had beaten him earlier. He was shaking slightly, his body’s reactions beyond his control.

Aragorn’s gaze hardened and he looked over his shoulder at the men in the camp who were watching the two friends with great interest. "Uhm, yes." He switched to common and raised his voice, "But they won't give you any more trouble now and they are sorry they ever did." He glared back at Taradin who dropped his gaze. Garith had edged his way back around the fire and slowly came up alongside Aragorn.

Legolas fixed his eyes on the boy and the ranger followed his gaze, "I thought I told you to stay over there."

"I thought you might like some water for your friend." He held up a deerskin bottle, "I fetched it from the stream, it’ll be nice and cool and it’ll help him get that toxin out of his system. He hasn’t had anything else since we..." Garith looked down guiltily and shoved the water skin at the ranger before quickly backing away from the two.

Aragorn closed his eyes, shaking his head, inwardly chastising himself again for what had happened to Legolas.

"Don’t." The quiet word averted his attention and he looked back at the elf. Legolas had read his thoughts on his face.

"I never thought you’d take the high pass. I thought you would come down through the rift, if I had known I would have gotten word to you." Aragorn’s voice was soft and full of regret as he brushed the long strands of blonde hair away from the elf’s clammy face.

"Word of what?" Legolas questioned as the human slid his arm beneath the elf prince and helped ease him up, careful of the wound to his leg, so he could drink. He handed Legolas the water skin and pressed his fingers against the bottom of it, indicating he wanted the elf to drink.

When his friend obeyed, he answered, "Don’t worry yourself with it now. We’ll talk about it later."

Legolas dropped the water bottle and curled in on himself. He wrapped his hands around his stomach and turned away from the ranger. Alarmed Aragorn leaned over him pulling the elf’s hair away from his face, "Legolas?"

"I’m going to be sick." He moaned softly.

Aragorn took the deerskin bottle from the elf and set it aside. He pressed his friend gently back down onto the blanket beneath him and quickly shed his own coat wrapping it around the shaking elf.

Turning back to the men around the fire he caught Taradin’s eye, "I’m taking the prince to Rivendell, first thing tomorrow. He’s got too much dragon water in him. I can’t even get him to keep water down. The elves there will be able to help him." The worry in the ranger’s eyes was unconcealed. "Think next time before you pour that stuff into someone."

He refocused his attention on the wounded elf, but Legolas had passed out again.

"I’ll send some of the men with you." Taradin offered quietly.

Aragorn did not turn to acknowledge him, "That wont be necessary. I’ll be fine."

"You’ll be in elf territory."

With a sigh Aragorn responded slowly, his words sharp and biting, "I will be fine. It is you who should be worried." The ranger laid his hand over the elf's heart and let the steady beat calm his anger. He was thankful that the prince’s heartbeat had finally begun to return to normal, only skipping every now and then.

When he spoke again his voice was calmer, "I will need a horse."

Taradin nodded even though the ranger had not turned around yet. It had been a statement, not a request and after the abuse they had heaped on the man’s friend it was the least they could do.

___________________________________________________________________
~*PART FOUR*~

It was still pre-dawn when Taradin was awakened by the soft sounds of movement in the camp. The fire had died down to hotly glowing embers and in the slight light he could barely make out the dark form of Strider seating himself on a horse behind the wounded elf they had caught and tortured the day before. He made his way quietly through the sleeping camp until he stood next to the mounted ranger.

"I’ll be back later. I need to get Legolas to Rivendell as soon as possible." Aragorn glanced down at the man. In fact, Legolas had taken a turn for the worse during the night and he feared that any delay would only slighten the elf’s chances of healing.

"For what it’s worth Strider, I truly am sorry we hurt your friend," Taradin said quietly.

The ranger nodded, wrapping his arm around the elf’s chest, he held Legolas in place in front of him and grasped the reins with his free hand. "Do not hunt the dark elf Taradin, and do not use that dragon water on anyone else. Stay in camp and wait my return."

They locked eyes for a moment, the younger man warning the older with his gaze. Legolas moaned and shifted in his grasp and the ranger’s attention was diverted. Taradin had understood and he slapped the horse’s haunches, sending the steed into a quick trot down the mountain path. "I hope he makes it." The old hunter spoke quietly to himself.

He hadn’t noticed that Garith had woken and stepped up behind him, watching the ranger speed off with his elven friend, "Me too." He whispered.

Part way down the mountain Legolas stirred and tried to move out of Aragorn’s grasp.

"Easy." Aragorn tightened his grip on the elf and slowed the horse down to a walking gait. "It’s alright, I’ve got you."

"Where are we going?" Legolas moved his arms up to encircle his ribcage, crossing his hands over the top of the rangers.

"Home."

"Mine or yours this time?"

Aragorn laughed, "Mine. Its closer."

"I do not wish to see your father in this shape Aragorn," Legolas grit out between his teeth. He had his pride after all, and it was not his wish to be continually entering Lord Elrond’s house in this manner.

"And he will not pleased to see you either." The ranger shook his head as he thought of the reception that would await them, "Actually he will not be pleased to see me dragging you home half-dead again."

"I am not half-dead," the elf protested with mild irritation.

"Near dead."

"Aragorn..." Legolas warned the ranger darkly.

"Well you aren’t exactly well are you?" teased the human. "One of these days our fathers are going to ban us from being around each other – it’s rather bad for our health or haven’t you noticed?"

"Don’t make laugh." The elf leaned hard against Aragorn’s arm and moaned as the pain in his body flared through his awareness, causing him to fight against the waves of nausea that assaulted him. The jouncing of the horse’s gate was grating painfully on every injured muscle and broken rib in Legolas’ body.

The horse stumbled beneath him, its foot slipping on the loose dirt. Aragorn tightened his grip on Legolas, inadvertently pressing against the elf’s broken ribs as he kept he and his friend upright in the saddle. The pain was overwhelming and the prince cried out, slumping forward.

"Legolas?" He pulled the elf’s head back against his shoulder, dropping the reins and letting the horse slowly pace down the road to Rivendell. "Legolas!" Brushing away the strands of hair from the prince’s face he noted that the elf had lapsed back into unconsciousness, his eyes closed. "Stay with me." Aragorn whispered to his friend, "We are almost home."

"Estel!"

Aragorn turned in the saddle towards the shouted greeting. His brothers emerged from the forest to his left and galloped up alongside the ranger’s horse.

The twins took in the situation and Elladan’s expression turned from one of joy to seriousness. "What happened?"

"Or should we ask what happened again?" Elrohir chimed in sarcastically.

"Oh very funny Elrohir. Legolas was caught by Taradin’s men." Aragorn glanced at his eldest brother who was glaring at his twin. "Can you ride ahead of me and let father know we are coming?"

"Estel, do you know what he’s going to do when he hears you are bringing the prince home three steps from death’s door again?" Elrohir glanced between his two brothers staring down their glares, "Well I for one do not want to be the one that breaks it to him." He stared at Elladan.

"I don’t have time to argue with you," Aragorn rolled his eyes. "GO!"

"I agree. I don’t want to tell him either. I can just imagine his response." Elladan closed the space between his horse and Aragorn and reached out to lift the prince’s head up slightly. "He’s unconscious. We’ll ride back with you."

With a nod from the ranger the three brothers headed quickly home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Just once I would very much like to see you come walking in under your own power." Elrond glared darkly at his youngest son as the human reined the horse to a stop inside Rivendell’s inner court. Elrohir’s mount skidded to a stop and the elf threw himself out of the saddle handing the reins off to a servant that stood by waiting quietly.

Aragorn began to protest, "I am fine, it’s..."

But Elrond cut him off, "I would like to see you *both* come in without needing any aide, either of you."

"Probably not likely in your lifetime father." Elladan muttered as he dismounted and walked over to help his brother with the wounded elf. "Told you he’d be less than pleased to see you."

"Elladan, you aren’t improving my mood at all." Elrond walked up next to the horse that Aragorn sat on and looked up at his son. The ranger had wrapped one arm around Legolas waist, with his free hand he cradled the elf’s head where it rested against his shoulder. "Tell me Estel, what happened?"

The ranger began to explain as he shifted the unconscious elf in his arms, slipping off the horse he gently pulled his friend with him. The twins quickly came to his aid grabbing hold of Legolas and shouldering his weight until Aragorn had safely dismounted.

"I found the rogue elf’s lair. It's near the high pass, by the ruins up that way. I also know what he looks like."

Elrond motioned the boys into the house after a cursory exam of the elf prince, the dark look on his face had deepened to a scowl and the twins stopped and turned back. Aragorn’s eyes lighted on Legolas’ still form, "He looks like Legolas. He is a Silvan elf, although what he is doing this far west I have no idea."

The human looked back up at the elf lord, "Taradin and his men captured Legolas as he was traveling here, they thought he was the rogue. Legolas said he would come visit in a fortnight." Aragorn looked down and sighed, "I had forgotten completely or I would have been looking for him. I did not come back to camp until late last night and... it was too late already."

Elrond motioned the twins into the house and Aragorn quickly stepped near, following them in. He continued his explanation, "They overdosed him with dragon water and when he could not tell them what they wanted, they tried to beat it out of him." The ranger grabbed the eldest twins sleeve and directed him away from the guest quarters into a larger room. "Please let him stay here." When Elrond nodded his agreement the brothers laid the elf down on the soft bed.

Aragorn immediately went about lighting the small glow lamps situated in the corners of the bedroom and pulled the curtains shut against the bright morning light. "He has a leg wound where one of those idiots shot him." The ranger’s anger was rising again and he turned away, trying to control his emotions.

"This has to stop!" Elladan gazed hard at his father, "First Moranuen, now Prince Legolas... They can’t keep doing this to us! Let me go out there with a contingent, I will see to it that they leave our woods."

Elrohir looked up from where he sat on the bed next to the elf prince, "Father?" Elrond’s attention was divided. Memories surfaced in his mind, lost, forgotten ones, the face of a young, fair-haired elven child. It couldn’t be though or could it?"

"Yes Elrohir?"

"I think he wakens." The elven twin leaned over the prince and spoke quietly to him in the grey tongue.

Aragorn whirled around and moved close in, lending comfort with his presence.

"Hmm.." Legolas smiled slightly up at the worried faces around him, "I remember this place." His voice was soft and rough.

"Yes, well one day I would very much like to see you walk into it instead of being carried in, young prince." Elrond smiled down at the elf.

"So would I." Legolas gazed at Aragorn, "I really would Estel."

The human laughed softly, "Me too. You’re kind of heavy you know that?"

Pain seized the wounded elf as he tried to laugh and he turned on his side pulling into himself. Elrond pushed the younger elves out of the room and attempted to clear his youngest son out of the way as well but the human was having nothing of it. He knelt on the floor next to the bed, near the prince’s head, talking quietly to him as the elf worked on calming his breathing and relaxing.

"Estel, I will work better with you out of the room."

"Yes father, I know." The human simply walked back into the small fresher unit and retrieved a soft cloth and a bowl of water.

"Estel."

Silver eyes met and locked until the elder elf relented, shaking his head. "Why Illuvitar thought I needed anymore sons is beyond me." He teased the young human. Gently catching Legolas’ shoulders Elrond eased the elf onto his back once more and began to carefully inspect the bruised wounds to the prince’s upper body.

Aragorn slipped his knife from its sheath and cut away the bloodied legging around the elf’s thigh where the arrow had deeply bit into the muscle. He gently began to clean the wound as his father tended to his friend, slowing his movements considerably when Legolas drew his breath in sharply from the pain.

"I’m sorry." Aragorn whispered, catching his friend’s gaze. "I’ll be more careful."

Legolas didn’t respond, he was in too much pain to speak and the effort was not lost on the elf lord.

"It would be best if you slept through this." He smiled softly at the prince. "It would be less painful."

Aragorn glanced between his father and his friend. Finally Legolas nodded slowly fixing his eyes on the human. Elrond left the room and the ranger moved to sit on the bed near the elf prince. "You can trust my father."

Legolas barely smiled, "Young human I trusted Lord Elrond before most of your human father’s ancestors were ever born. It will be well."

Elrond re-entered the room and stopped in the doorway. He listened quietly as the two friends talked softly, letting them have a moment before he cleared his throat. Both turned to look at him, a smile graced the prince’s face but worry and guilt edged the eyes of the elf lord’s son. He would have to speak with his youngest later about the matter.

Stepping up near the bed Elrond held out a warm mug of thick yellow liquid, a slightly acrid smell lingered in the air. Aragorn took the cup from his father’s hands and smiled down at Legolas, "Looks like I get to drug you again. I guess next time it’s your turn."

"There will absolutely be *no* next time." Elrond leaned in close to the two glaring between them in mock indignation, "Is that perfectly understood?" The warning garnered slight laughter, having done its job in lightening the mood.

Aragorn slipped one hand under Legolas’ head and raised him slightly up, with his other he gently pressed the cup to the elf’s lips, tipping it ever so slightly. Instinctively, Legolas hand came up and gripped the ranger’s forearm as he took a sip of the warm liquid. It didn’t cause his stomach to react and at Aragorn’s prompting he took a longer drink, relaxing slowly as the drug took effect and he drifted into unconsciousness.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elrond stepped quietly into the bedchamber. A fire was burning softly in the stone fireplace throwing warm shadows around the room. Legolas lay on the large bed finally breathing easily, his face turned towards the wall, and his left leg bandaged and elevated on a small mound of pillows to help stave the bleeding. The warm confines of the room had lulled its occupants to sleep.

Aragorn sat on the floor, leaning back against the tall bed, his head tipped back and resting against the mattress, hands in his lap. He was asleep.

Elrohir had commandeered a large overstuffed chair. The boys' familiarity with the house caused them to be careless with the furniture at times. The younger twin sat sideways in the soft recliner, his head resting on one arm and his legs draped over the other, snoring softly. Elladan had pulled a small stool near the bright flames warming his back, his unfocused eyes betrayed the fact that he was dozing, albeit lightly.

Elrond eased himself down in an empty chair and watched his sleeping sons. His eyes stopping on the form of the human, so relaxed and yet the elf knew that under the circumstances his every awareness was focused on the bed behind him, if Legolas even turned over the ranger would be awake instantly. Sensing someone watching him, Elrond glanced back at his eldest, smiling slightly at the young elf who sat there watching him.

"Don’t worry, he won’t wake up." Elladan smiled at the older elf, speaking quietly so as not to wake the others, "The only thing that could wake him now is if Legolas regained consciousness."

"I was just thinking that." Elrond smiled absently and glanced out the large window that decorated the southern wall. Night had fallen and the stars could just be seen.

"What is it father?" The young elf noticed his father’s distraction.

"This is my fault you know." The elf lord leveled the warrior with a heavy gaze.

"I don’t understand." Elladan frowned and leaned forward.

"Hebrilith." Elrond took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He stood to his feet walking slowly to the picture window, his eyes not seeing the darkened night but reliving a time long ago. Elladan didn’t push his father; he knew the elder elf would speak when he felt like it.

"Hebrilith was a child when your mother and I were first married. His family lived in Lothlorien and when he was very young some men raided the woods there and captured several elves, Hebrilith among them." He stopped, frowning in remembrance, "We were able to rescue all of them, but of the child..." His voice fell off and he shook his head sadly.

"Father?"

Elrond turned back to elf and continued, "No one ever found Hebrilith. He had been given to a very wicked man who used the boy, as an object of curiosity." He glanced over at Legolas, his thoughts returning to the first time he had met the prince and the cruel captivity that the young elf had endured so long ago. "Much as Legolas was used once. The child was treated ill and grew up in hostility. He learned early on to hate men and he learned the lesson well. It was driven into his heart and carved in his memories." Walking back to the chair Elrond sat back down heavily.

"Finally, many years later, Hebrilith killed his captor and escaped. He returned to his parents and the elves in Lothlorien but he had been scarred too badly."

"Physically or emotionally?"

"Both. But the physical part we were able to heal. The emotional part was too far beyond our skills." Elrond’s eyes were sad as he remembered the fair-haired being, "He did not get along well with others after his return, not even others of our kind. He began to withdraw and the elves grew fearful of him. It was thought best to banish him, when he became uncooperative, choosing to live in seclusion in the woods."

The elf lord smiled to himself, "Your mother," He shook his head fondly, "She felt for the boy. You and Elrohir were mere infants when his banishment was considered. Her heart was always big enough for the least of the beings on this earth. She petitioned the court to allow the boy to live here in Rivendell." He glanced at Elladan, "Her request was granted. Of course I had agreed."

Elrohir had awoken and was watching his father intently, "Why would you do this?" He spoke softly.

"I too have been a captive, more than once. I know what the pain can be like, how it does not go away. How one must fight it everyday. I know what it is like to be elven and to not be, to be accepted and to not be. In a moment of weakness, I allowed the boy to live here near Rivendell."

"Nay, not weakness father, compassion." Elrohir spoke softly.

"Whatever moved us then was ill advised. Hebrilith chose to live in the mountains alone. He was at peace when he was away from all else and he was fine when undisturbed. We would see him from time to time when he had need. But as he became more self sufficient, his visits grew less frequent. Over the years I had lost track of him. In all truth I was not sure he was still alive. When your mother left for the undying lands, that was the last time I saw him. He was on the bluff over looking the bay, watching as she left."

Elrond ran a hand over the back of his neck as he continued more softly. "I had heard of rumors of people, men, meeting their ends in the mountains near where Hebrilith had chosen to reside. I always attributed their deaths to their own ignorance of the mountains; it is easy to loose ones way or footing there. As men have grown more abundant and as they now range farther into territory they never before occupied they are meeting with things far older than their race and more deadly than they are equipped to deal with."

Aragorn moved slightly, stretching slowly as he woke, the soft voices finally working their way into his consciousness. Elrond graced the young human with a small smile and it was returned from the bleary eyed human.

When he caught sight of his brother’s serious glances the smile slipped from his face and he jumped to his feet turning toward Legolas, but the prince was fine. Confused at the tension in the room he glanced back at his father who had risen from his seat and crossed the room to stand behind the boy, "Legolas is well. He is just resting, let him sleep. I was explaining to Elladan and Elrohir that I know who this dark elf that hunts the high ranges is."

Surprise lit the ranger's face and he easily allowed himself to be pressed back down to the floor as Elrond stared seriously at him, "I want you to be very careful when you hunt the dark elf, do you understand me Estel? I would rather that you did not go at all but I know I cannot keep you from it."

Aragorn looked between his father and his brothers in concern. Elrond crouched in front of the boy, eye level with the human, "You must promise me this. Hebrilith hates men, he was taken by them my son and he could never get over what was done to him. He will not hesitate to kill you. In fact if he sees you with your brothers or Legolas or even with other men, he will single you out and go after you first. I want you to be very aware of your surroundings at all times. Do you understand me?"

"Yes father, I promise." Estel’s words were mere whispers but his response satisfied the elf lord.

Elrond nodded and laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder as he stood once more. Turning to the twins he continued, "Hebrilith must be put down. Obviously, his heart has fallen into darkness and he can no longer be allowed to live. He has become more bold and men will simply continue to spread into the mountains and Hebrilith will hunt them."

Elladan started to protest but the elf lord stopped him, "It is mercy my son. He has lived a long life but he cannot live with others, it is torment to him. It will be in kindness that his wanderings here are cut short. He is... twisted inside. He has obviously allowed his hate to eat away at him until darkness is all he knows and whatever light was in him once is hidden and trapped by the evil he has let take his heart. Only in death can he be set free. It is something I should have done myself years ago but was loathe to."

Elladan nodded glancing at Elrohir. Something unspoken passed between the twins and they both looked at Estel. Elrond watched the silent communication with interest and he knew in that instant they had vowed to keep Hebrilith from killing again or coming anywhere near injuring their human brother.

"We will see it done father." Elladan smiled at the elder elf. "You did what you thought best. There is no shame in that."

Estel had the distinct feeling that he had been left out of something very important. As was his want to do he sat quietly listening to his father and brothers gleaning any information from them that he could.

Elrond noticed the boy's over attentiveness. It was a trait the young human had learned growing up in a house of elves millennia his senior and the elf lord had a feeling it would suit him well in his life to come. He smiled softly at the ranger, "Your brothers will fill you in on the details when Legolas awakes."

"I am awake." A soft, slurred voice spoke from the bed where the elf prince lay, "Although I am not sure I wish to be."

Aragorn scrambled to his feet and leaned over his friend. His eyes bright and a smile spreading across his face. "How do you feel?"

"Horrible. I ache." The elf smiled back, "Everywhere."

Elrond gently moved his son aside and pressed in close to the bed. Aragorn, unwilling to leave simply sat on the edge of the bed and watched as the elf lord carefully opened Legolas’ tunic and pressed his hand against the young prince’s ribs, feeling the swelling around the broken bones that were beginning to mend.

Legolas drew his breath in slightly, closing his eyes at the touch. His chest was discolored from the beating he had taken and every muscle seemed to protest the gentle touch of the elf lord.

"It will take you a couple of days before you are well enough to get out of bed," Elrond said quietly. The elf prince nodded as Elrond’s hand covered his forehead, "At least your fever is gone young one. You gave us quite a scare."

"Us?" Legolas pressed one elbow beneath him, raising himself up to look around the room. When he caught sight of the twins still seated where they were he chuckled, "Oh good."

"At least you won't be want for company while you heal. They have made your room their permanent residence." Elrond glanced back at Elrohir and raised an eyebrow at the youth.

Elrhoir gazed back at his father open eyed in question. A small throw pillow smacked him in the face, lobbed at him from across the room by his twin.

"He means respect the furniture." Elladan growled from his stool as his brother smiled sheepishly and righted himself in the chair. When their father had turned his attention back to the elf prince. Elrohir chucked the pillow at Elladan with more force than was necessary. The elder twin caught it but before he could retaliate Elrond’s voice stopped them both, "I saw that. Don’t think I didn’t. And do not throw that pillow again Elladan. There are decorations in this room older than the both of you that I can no longer replace." He glanced over his shoulder, "Behave."

Aragorn snickered. His humor was cut short however as the small pillow clobbered him in the face and sent him off balance so that he fell back against the bed. Elrohir began to laugh helplessly as Elrond turned to glare at his sons, "Elladan!"

"I have no idea how that happened father." The eldest twin replied, his face the very essence of innocence.

His act was not lost on the elf lord who simply stared at the warrior until the younger elf dropped his gaze with a guilty smile, "How old are you?"

Elrohir was trying unsuccessfully to still his laughter.

"Shut up Elrohir!" Elladan growled softly, "You are only a minute younger."

Legolas laughed softly at the brothers, his hand crossing his chest to keep from drawing in too much breath as the ache in his body restricted him.

"I can remove them if you like." Elrond teased looking at the twins out of the corner of his eyes.

"No, please." Legolas smiled up at the elf lord, "Let them stay, it is good to hear laughter."

"All right then," Elrond stood and looked around the room, "I’ll have food sent in for you shortly." He smiled fondly down at the human seated on the bed near his friend, "Be sure you keep them in line Estel. I do not need the prince injuring himself any further because of you all."

"Not to worry father." Aragorn smiled brilliantly back at the elf.

"Oh yes, he’s a big threat." Elladan said under his breath.

"Very scary." Elrohir chimed in sarcastically.

Elrond glanced a warning at the two and growled, "Behave." With that he turned and left the friends to themselves, their laughter reaching his ears as he walked out into the hallway towards the kitchen.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan and Elrohir had retired to their own rooms for the evening, leaving Aragorn alone with Legolas. The elf prince was seated on his bed propped up against a sea of pillows that the brothers had scavenged from all over the house. Aragorn stirred the dwindling fire, stoking the embers.

"Aragorn go to bed. You look like you could fall over." Legolas teased the ranger as he slowly straightened from tending the fire.

"I will." The human stumbled to the overstuffed chair opposite Legolas’ bed and fell into it.

"No, *your* bed." The elf smiled at the sleepy ranger. "I’ll be fine."

"I know." Aragorn stretched himself out in the easy chair and watched his friend through slitted eyes. "I’m sorry Legolas."

The elf’s demeanor changed and he quieted immediately, "Aragorn, it’s not your fault." His voice was soft; they had been over this before.

The human turned his gaze away and watched the fire. "I wanted to kill Taradin when I found you. I wanted to kick myself for leaving. If I had been there, none of this would have happened." He shook his head; his thoughts dark with the memory of finding his friend strung up like a criminal, "When I saw you there..."

"Aragorn." Legolas voice stopped his reminiscing. "I am fine. You are the one who rescued me. If it were not for you, for your return, those men would have killed me - they made it very clear. You stopped all that."

The ranger was shaking his head but the elf ignored him, "How do you think I felt when I stood on the other side of that rockslide and listened to the orcs torturing you?"

"That was different." The young man leapt to his feet and paced the large room.

"It wasn’t different at all." Aragorn rounded on the elf but Legolas didn’t stop, "No, it wasn’t different at all. You were being tortured and I got there after the fact. After the fact Strider."

"They said you called my name." Aragorn’s voice was soft and slightly choked.

Legolas looked down at his hands. "I did?"

"They had drugged you." Aragorn seated himself on the bed and leaned over. "If I had waited for someone to go with me instead of stealing out of camp on my own I would have been there."

The elf wouldn’t meet his eyes. Bits and snatches of memory were coming back to him. Angry words, blurry faces, the pain... he almost shuddered as his mind slid backwards, mixing old memories with the new. And the old memories were more painful.

"Legolas?" Aragorn's concerned voice drew him back.

The prince shook his head, "Memories."

"Yes, of other men!"

"But not you. None of this was your fault and it was not even really Taradin or his men’s fault either." He stared hard at the human, "They thought I was Hebrilith. If he had been a man and done to my people what this elf has done to yours I am not sure that we would have handled him any more gently than they."

He knew Aragorn was not convinced and it was no use arguing with a human when they were tired, he had learned that well when they were traveling together on their way to the Mines of Moria. The elf smiled at the tired face watching him, "Go to sleep Estel. In the morning it will be better. Besides I was wondering what kind of trouble we could stir up in your woods and it seems that it has found us." He laughed at himself and pushed the ranger off his bed. "Go, so I may sleep."

Finally the ranger smiled back at him, his mind weary from the day and slow from being overly tired. He paced back to the deep cushioned chair and curled up in it.

"Your own room human." Legolas chided fondly.

"This is my room." He muttered back at his friend as he closed his eyes and laying his head on his arm he was instantly asleep.

___________________________________________________________________
~*PART FIVE*~

Aragorn had stayed on in Rivendell, unwilling to leave Legolas until the elf was well enough to move about on his own. It had been nearly a week since he had visited the men's camp and in all honesty he had temporarily forgotten about them.

They however had not forgotten about him.

Elrond had decided it would be nice to break their morning fast on the terrace overlooking the Bruinen and requested that their meal be brought to them there. A light breeze lifted off the water, cooling the sun-drenched deck.

Elladan was arguing the finer points of bow hunting with Elrohir.

"I am telling you brother, your fletchings are too long," Elladan spoke around a mouthful of food, "it's why you overshoot every time."

"Please." Elrohir rolled his eyes, "Everyone knows the only reason I never make a clean kill is because you are there whispering in my ear and throwing me off!"

Legolas started to laugh. Being with the family of Noldor elves was always a welcome change to his own. He loved his father dearly but Elrond and his sons just seemed to be more casual around each other and easily given to lighthearted conversation.

Elrond glanced at his sons. Estel was quietly listening to the argument, but his eyes could not hold back his mirth. It wouldn’t be long before he would be adding his own opinion to the conversation just to keep the argument going. The elderly elf had noticed that his human son seemed to be adept at keeping the twins stirred up and he smiled to himself.

Just as he had thought, Estel began to speak, but his words were cut off as a messenger hurriedly stepped out onto the veranda.

Elladan stood from his seat and Elrohir quickly moved from his own, offering the chair to the out of breath warrior. But the elf waved off the formality turning quickly to Elrond and bowing.

When the elf lord acknowledged the messenger the warrior began to speak.

"My lord we have discovered intruders." The elf took a deep breath trying to still his racing heart.

"Easy, speak slowly." Elrond stood and handed the warrior a glass of water, resting his hand lightly on the young elf’s back. When the messenger had calmed slightly the elf lord questioned him further, "Where did you find these intruders? And do you have them now?"

"Yes my lord, we have them restrained down in the courtyard." At his words the elves around the table erupted with action as the younger ones headed for the doorway followed closely by Elrond and the messenger. "We discovered them on the south face near the main path. They were definitely trying to conceal their approach. One of them put up quite a fight and we had to restrain him. And my lord," The warrior paused, "they are human."

The messenger’s last words halted Aragorn in his tracks and he turned sharply towards the warrior. Legolas and Elrond stopped up short and watched with interest as the ranger’s full attention was riveted on the elf.

"Did you say they were humans?"

The messenger glanced at Elrond who only nodded encouraging the elf to speak.

"Yes Estel. They are human. Why do you ask?"

"What did they look like?"

"Like humans?" The elf was confused. Didn’t all men look alike?

"No," Aragorn was afraid of the elf’s answer and his frustration was showing, "Are they townfolk? Are they hunters? All men?"

"Yes they are all men. Perhaps, yes, they are hunters." Understanding shaded the silver eyes of the messenger but Aragorn did not see it.

"Taradin! I should have thought..." He ran for the door, bursting out into the courtyard.

Just as he feared, Taradin, Garith and three other hunters he barely recognized were standing in the courtyard, ringed by a contingent of Rivendell’s warriors. Elladan and Elrohir were questioning the warriors.

Taradin himself was bound and had been forced to his knees, in order to restrain him. Garith was in tears, watching the older man from the side, his hands bound in front of him and guarded by an elven warrior.

"Release them!" Aragorn move towards Garith and gently but firmly pushed the warrior away, severing the young boy’s bonds. The youth ran to the older hunter and immediately began trying to pry loose the ropes that held Taradin bound.

Elrond stepped into the courtyard, quickly taking in the situation. He nodded wordlessly at the elves who immediately obeyed and released their captives.

Aragorn had knelt in front of Taradin and was cutting through the ropes that were looped about his chest.

"I’m sorry. Are you all right?" The ranger helped the man to stand.

"Well except for these damned elves..."

"Don’t." Aragorn turned hard eyes on him. The ranger stepped in close to the man, he couldn’t tell the hunter that this was his family but he would not let the human threaten or curse them either. They were his family.

Legolas stepped out from behind Lord Elrond and the men stopped arguing as they caught sight of the elf they had beaten only a week prior.

Taradin glanced at the elf prince and looked back to Aragorn, "He lives?"

"Yes." Aragorn smiled, "He lives."

The ranger stepped towards his father. With a slight smile he winked at the elderly elf and the elf prince. In the next moment his entire demeanor changed, Legolas was fascinated by the transformation. The human stepped back and bowed low to the two elves.

"My lords these are the hunters that your servant informed you of." Aragorn straightened up and looked over his shoulder towards the group of men. "May I introduce Taradin and his adopted son Garith. These men work with him. Forgive me for I have forgotten their names."

The ranger continued the introductions, "And this is Lord Elrond, Master of Rivendell." Strider turned towards his elven brothers and redirected the men’s attention, "These are his son and heirs, Elladan and Elrohir, masters of this house. Legolas Prince of Mirkwood has been recuperating under Lord Elrond care. Lord Elrond is an expert in the healing arts and has kindly seeing to his restoration."

Taradin and his men followed the ranger’s lead and bowed to the elves when the introductions had been made. "I hope that you are well again Heir of Mirkwood. And I ask you to forgive me and my men, we mistook you for an elf that has been killing our companions."

"I trust you have learned from your mistake." Elrond spoke up. His voice was low but his tone was firm and commanding.

"Yes my lord." Taradin bowed again, "It will not happen again."

"And yet you were caught sneaking onto our lands." Elrond clasped his hands behind his back and stepped down onto the courtyard, "Explain your actions. Rivendell is open to all who would enter and yet you treat us as though we were your enemy. Why is that?" dark eyes leveled the man with their piercing gaze as Elrond stepped close to the human.

Taradin shifted his glance towards the ranger but Garith who had finally recovered from his scare found his voice. "It’s not his fault Lord Elf. We was worried about Strider. He never came back and we was thinking it was cause you all might have thought he was the one who hurt the other elf there. We was coming to rescue him, with all due respect, sir."

"Garith, hush." Taradin put a protective arm around the young man and pulled him back tightly against him. "Its true your lordship. We just came to make sure that Strider here was all right."

Elrohir, on the edge of the group, snickered lightly. His soft laugh was only heard by the elven ears nearby and his human brother. Of course the man had been safe but the hunters had no way of knowing that. Elladan elbowed his twin, silencing the elf.

Elrond glanced at the twin, repressing a smile, knowing exactly what was in the thoughts of his son.

"As you can see the ranger has been well cared for." Elrond answered.

"Why hasn’t he been allowed to return?"

Aragorn stepped forward, finally realizing why the men had thought they needed to sneak into Rivendell, "Taradin, I’m fine. I stayed behind with Legolas to see to his recovery. I should have sent word or come back to you. I’m sorry, the mistake was mine."

The hunter looked the ranger over carefully. The younger man looked well fed and healthy and under no distress. Convinced that Strider was indeed all right he nodded and glanced at his men, "Are we free to go?"

"Of course." Elrond answered, "But we would welcome your company." The elf lord motioned back into the interior of the house, "Come and eat with us, surely you are hungry?"

Taradin glanced uneasily towards the open door, thinking over the offer. There had been so much bad blood between the men and the elves of late, perhaps it was time to put an end to that way of thinking. He nodded slowly and met Elrond’s easy gaze, "We would like to join you. May I send one of my men back so that the others know we are alright?"

"Of course." Elrond turned to a nearby warrior and addressed the elf, "Please see that this man gets a horse and is given water and something to eat before he goes."

The older hunter’s mouth dropped open at the generous offer and he turned huge eyes on Strider. The ranger simply smiled and nodded, escorting the men that were remaining into the house. "Your man will be well taken care of. The townsfolk are wrong about the elves you know."

"I am beginning to see that." Taradin answered awestruck as they entered Elrond’s dwelling and were escorted out to the veranda overlooking the deep gorge the dwelling was seated on.

Legolas watched his friend with fascination as the morning wore on. The ranger deferred to the elves in every matter, treating even his brothers as the royalty they were. His joking and lightheartedness had been replaced by a cloak of seriousness and quiet stability. Aragorn easily mediated between the humans and the elves, keeping himself out of the way and quietly off to the side until needed or addressed. His keen eyes watched everyone and when he spoke his words always tipped the conversations away from a confrontation or misunderstanding, slowly working the talk around to the subject of Hebrilith.

Elrond took note of his younger son’s intent and easily addressed the situation.

"You mentioned earlier that your men have been killed by an elf?" Elrond watched the hunter carefully as he asked the question.

Taradin laid his fork down on his plate and nodded, glancing up at the elven lord, "Yes they have. We thought Legolas here was him, there’s quite a resemblance between the two. Can’t seem to track him down or stop him. And no disrespect meaning but if we could put him down we would."

The elf lord’s gaze did not drop and Taradin was forced to look away from the piercing eyes. "It is true we have heard of this elf. However an elf cannot be easily tracked and caught by a human if he does not want to be. You see the problem?"

"We caught him alright." The hunter on Taradin’s left pointed his fork at Legolas.

Legolas stopped mid-bite, pausing to level an unreadable glare at the man. He was doing an admirable job of looking past what had occurred the last time he had been with these men, but they didn’t need to push their luck.

"That was because he was not expecting you to be hunting him. Nor did he have any reason to believe you would be." Aragorn spoke quietly from the side, his words leveled and hard. "Do you see the difference?"

The hunter locked eyes with the ranger until Taradin intervened, "Derent, behave. These here elves aren’t related to that one out there in the woods. Now mind your manners or I’ll have you sent back too."

"I see your point though Lord Elrond." Taradin sighed heavily and draped his arm across the back of Garith’s chair subconsciously touching the youth to make sure the boy was fine. "Do you have any suggestions? Could we perhaps work toget