Title:  Vandaril

Summary:  There is a darkness tainting the edges of Mirkwood.  Who is behind it, and what does he want with Legolas and Aragorn?

Rating:  PG-13

Feedback:  Yes!  To: lionesscrs@yahoo.com

Disclaimer:  Not mine!  But everybody knows that. 

 

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Hey everyone!  Here is the next installment in my, so far, nameless series.  *g* It will have a name eventually, but right now, this is the second story after “When Paths Cross.”  Slightly darker, and shorter chapter wise, but I hope it is better, as my writing improves.

Feedback can be sent to: lionesscrs@yahoo.com

I look forward to hearing from you, and I hope you enjoy it!

 

No words can heal

A broken heart

A dream is gone,

But where there’s hope

 

Somewhere something

Is calling for you

Two worlds, one family

Trust your heart,

Let fate decide

 

To guide these lives we see

 

Phil Collins, “Two Worlds”

Chapter One

“I do believe that father will be pleased to see the amount of venison we are returning with,” Legolas remarked, his eyes sparkling.  Isindil glowered darkly at him while Raeuwyn and Elulith snickered lightly in the background.

 

“I have had quite enough of your teasing,” Isindil informed, folding his arms over his chest.  He paused as he looked them all over and added, “If my memory serves me correctly, it was not my fault that my horse spooked.  Something just bothered Navinia, and she threw me off.”

 

His ending words were tinged with bitterness, and he threw his scowl down upon the billowing mane of his horse.  Navinia did not seem to worry in the least about all the trouble she was causing her rider, and now that the danger for her had apparently passed, she was moving swiftly along the path at an easy canter.

 

“Imagine that,” Elulith commented. “Isindil, a great warrior, unable to control his own horse.”

 

This comment garnered laughter from Raeuwyn and Legolas, who had had no problem keeping their own horses steady.  On the contrary, they had seemed impatient at the delay as the deer ran off further into the woods and out of their reach, for the distraction of Isindil being thrown off his horse had caused them all to stop.  The wait had been a moment too long, for as soon as everything was right again, the deer were long gone.

 

“You wait until the next time we go hunting.  I will make you regret every moment of this humiliating banter,” Isindil threatened, but no one was paying attention to him.

 

“You do not like us teasing you?” Legolas asked, feigning a look of surprise.  “Here I thought you were enjoying our company.”

 

Isindil muttered something darkly under his breath that the three could not catch.  Turning to him, Raeuwyn exclaimed, “What was that I heard?”  In response, Isindil glared at him, and the elf continued, “If my ears did not deceive me, I do believe that Isindil has just placed a cursed on us!”

 

“Yes.  Prepare to drop dead within the next hour,” Isindil warned, glowering.  He was still angry with himself for what he had done, but his bad mood was beginning to wear off in the light atmosphere of his friends.

 

Legolas raised his eyes to the heavens, and murmured, “May the Valar spare our lives.”

 

Isindil snickered softly and Raeuwyn and Elulith chuckled.  With an amused smile on his face, Legolas remarked, “You should be praying for you life, Isindil, for if my father discovers me dead and finds out that you have caused it, he will want your life next, to be sure.”

 

The elves laughed, and a comfortable silence fell upon them.  The prince sobered up as he glanced up at the sky.  It had already turned dark, and the sun had long since disappeared behind the trees.  Sighing, he commented, “We had best be getting home now.  Father is going to have a fit, for I promised him that we would return before nightfall.”

 

Raeuwyn looked worried.

 

“It is well passed that now, my Lord.”  Grinning sheepishly, he continued, “I suppose that the past events made us lose track of the time.  Nevertheless, they were very much worth it, and I will always keep them forever close to my heart.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Isindil shot at him, but his voice had lost its previous anger, and it had been spoken with a lighthearted air.  Silence fell once again on the foursome as they made their way home through the woods, but as it got darker, a strange foreboding feeling had begun to creep its way up Isindil’s spine.

 

“Do any of you have the feeling like you’re being watched?” he inquired presently, glancing about him.

 

Raeuwyn laughed.

 

“You’ve always been the superstitious one.  There’s no one here save ourselves,” he remarked.  “How could we be being watched?”

 

Silence fell on them again, but Isindil didn’t feel comforted.  He shifted uneasily around in his saddle, looking around for any signs of life.  Navinia was beginning to become anxious again too, and Isindil clutched the reins tighter as he felt her tense up under him.  The elf muttered another curse under his breath as Navinia threw her head back and neighed softly in fear.

 

Throwing a glance back at Isindil, Legolas called, “Having troubles with your horse again, mellon?”

 

But Isindil wasn’t listening.  He had looked up, and had suddenly seen thousands of eyes peering down at them from the tops of the trees.

 

Spiders.

 

The other horses were beginning to become slightly afraid too, and as they neared the clearing where the woods stopped, they began to back up.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Elulith snapped at his horse Davina as she threw her head back in fear.

 

“Look,” Isindil informed, and all the elves followed his gaze up into the foliage.

 

Laughing somewhat uneasily, Legolas told them, “They won’t come down from there.  We’ve never had problems with the spiders this far out.  They wouldn’t dare.”

 

Feeling the least bit assured, the elves tried to urge their horses out into the clearing.  Suddenly, as if appearing from nowhere, the spiders had emerged from the woods and onto the path where they were beginning to form a circle around the elves, trapping them.  Isindil’s horse had had enough, and in fear she reared, taking her rider completely by surprise.

 

“Isindil!” Legolas, Elulith, and Raeuwyn exclaimed in unison, looking back to see where their friend had fallen.  As they turned around in their saddles, they could see that he had just missed the ring of spiders that had circled them.  The elf stood shakily to his feet and Raeuwyn made a grab for Navinia’s reins in an attempt to keep her at bay.  But he missed, and the horse dodged his grasp, and in her fear she broke free of the spiders and ran wildly for the palace.

 

The spiders reformed their circle before anyone else had time to react, and some had moved in the direction of Isindil, eyeing him hungrily.  The elf backed off, fear evident on his features.

 

Legolas was confused.  He had never seen spiders act this way.  What in the Valar was going on?

 

As if in answer to his question, a low voice was suddenly heard from the trees.

 

“Leave the elf be, my pets.  We can have fun with him later.”

 

Isindil turned around in the direction of the voice and Raeuwyn and Elulith looked to Legolas.

 

“What is going on here?” they hissed.

 

“You will find out soon enough,” the mysterious voice answered.  “I am sure that princy here will be able to explain everything to you.”

 

Legolas frowned, deep in thought.  There was something familiar about that voice…something…

 

“Come out and show yourself!” Isindil demanded, trying to keep his voice steady and calm.

 

“If that is what you want…”

 

To everyone’s surprise, an elf emerged from the trees, and as Legolas studied him further, he gasped as the recognition suddenly sank in.

 

“Ah yes,” the elf spoke, bitterness tainting his voice slightly.  “I knew you would remember me.”

 

Before anyone had a chance to say anything else, the strange elf continued, “We meet again…brother.”

 

Chapter Two

Thranduil paced back and forth with his head slightly lowered and his hands folded behind his back.  His long gold hair fell around his face, concealing the mix of emotions that lay there.  His initial impatience at the fact that his son was late was beginning diminish with each passing minute.  He could feel concern ebbing it away, and he had a strange foreboding feeling that something had happened.

 

He chewed his lower lip anxiously.  He hated feeling so out of control as he did now, especially when the matter was around his own son.  He knew that Legolas could take care of himself, but it was not like him to disobey specific orders.  It was true that it had taken some convincing for Thranduil to finally allow him to go out today, but Legolas had promised that he would be home before nightfall.  It was well passed that now.

 

Thranduil walked over to the wall near his study window and leant against it, resting his head upon the cool marble.  He had just closed his eyes to try and get himself to relax when he heard the sound of someone knocking upon his door.  He lifted his head, suddenly feeling weary, and called, “Who is it and what is the matter?”

 

The door opened cautiously and Lebenon peered in, his eyes coming to rest upon the Mirkwood king.  Thranduil studied him for a moment.  There was a slightly frightened and fearful look in his eyes.  The king straightened.

 

“Lebenon?”

 

The advisor took a deep breath before answering, “My Lord, I do not like to disturb you at this hour because I know that you need your rest…but…there’s something that just came up that I think you would like to know.”

 

“Well?  What is it?”  Thranduil asked, feeling slightly irritable at Lebenon’s reluctance to speak.

 

“It is Navinia, Sire.”

 

Thranduil frowned.  “What about Navinia, Lebenon?”

 

Trying to push the lump that had begun to form down his throat, the advisor responded, “She has returned, alone and with no rider.”

 

~*~*~

 

The Mirkwood forests had an even eerier glow to them now that the moon had risen.  Aragorn pulled his dark green cloak tighter around him and shivered slightly at the chill.  Under normal circumstances, the cold would affect him more.  This time, however, it did not.  His heart now was filled with warmth and it had begun to radiate out towards the rest of his body, for after seven years, he was finally going to visit his friend Legolas.

 

Aragorn sighed.  It had been seven years too long, but that could not have been helped.  The rangers had accomplished many deeds during the seven-year span.  Aragorn himself had contributed, along with the refreshed spirit and renewed vigor of the men.  They had started the arduous task of uniting the scattered rangers of the north, and they had made impressive progress.  The work had been tiring, and Aragorn could not remember the last time he had been able to sleep the whole night.  The years had been mentally and physically exhausting, but they had been extremely rewarding.

 

The most difficult part for Aragorn had been getting accustomed to his new role. With the aid of Texyn and the rest of the rangers, it had taken roughly a year to adapt to it.  Over the course of the time that he spent with them, he was gradually given more leadership and authority, and he wondered if this would cause Elladan to finally loosen his grip of protectiveness that he had held upon him for so long.  Aragorn hoped this would cause him and even Elrohir to see that he really was capable of taking control and having responsibility. 

 

The human felt it strange that he himself was unable to believe the change that he had undergone.  Even the new name he had been given seven years ago to protect his identity did not feel quite like it belonged to him yet.  He deduced that it was probably because he was embarking on the path that would lead him to eventually make the final choices that would decide his destiny, one that he still did not feel comfortable with.  A slight smile adorned his features as he remembered how he got that name.  The scene that had led up to it still caused him to laugh out loud.

 

Elladan peered tentatively around the stack of books he held in his hands.  The pile reached up to his forehead, blocking the view he had of the hallways.  He inched forward slowly but deliberately, determined to get to his final destination without dropping a single book. 

 

Aragorn had overslept that morning.  Muttering frustrated curses under his breath, the human walked quickly in long strides down the hallways, trying to reach the archery field in haste so he would not be too late.  He had missed breakfast and that made him even more irritable, for the next meal would not be for some time.

 

Aragorn’s eyes were focused upon the floor as he rushed down the corridors, and had they been looking ahead he would have seen Elladan moving cautiously down the opposite end of the hall towards Elrond’s bedroom, for he had requested that the books be brought there.

 

At this time, several actions happened simultaneously.  Legolas had been walking up a hall that ran perpendicular to the one that Aragorn and Elladan were using, and he had been going to check up on the human whom he supposed was still sleeping.  The elf then saw Elladan and Aragorn moving quickly straight towards him.  He froze and stared at the scene in horror.  As the in initial shock of what he saw happening wore off, Legolas found his voice and shouted, “Elladan!  Aragorn!  Look out!”

 

It was too late.  By the time Aragorn looked up, he was moving too quickly to stop himself, and he ran straight into Elladan.  The books were knocked out of his hands and the force of the impact caused Elladan to fall to the ground with Aragorn landing on top of him.

 

Aragorn rolled off his brother with a groan, rubbing his head.  Growling softly, Elladan muttered, “Great job, little brother.  See what you’ve done?  Why does all this always happen to me?  Between you and Elrohir, I do not know how I manage to take anything anywhere.  How will you survive in the wild if you are not paying attention to where you are going?”

 

Aragorn grumbled back, “I overslept and am now surely late for practice.  And you—what were you doing carrying all of those books?”

 

At this, Elladan looked at the human sheepishly but before he could respond, a laughing sound filled the halls.  Glaring at the source, Aragorn asked Legolas irately, “What is so funny?”

 

In response, the elf just shook his head and wiped tears of mirth away from his eyes.  “Nothing…Strider.”

 

Aragorn chuckled to himself as he remembered.  The name had stuck after that, and whenever he heard it he thought of Legolas before himself.

 

Legolas…

 

Aragorn wondered how he was, and how he was faring at home.  The human sighed and drew his cloak even tighter around him to fend off the shivers that were running through him.  Aragorn knew those feelings were more than from the cold.  It was the forests.  He glanced at them, and knew that he would never feel the same in the Mirkwood forests as he felt in Rivendell.  Instead of keeping his eyes on the woods, he kept them focused on the path, for he knew how important it was to stay on it.  Legolas had warned him once never to stray from it, for it would be next to impossible to find it again.  That thought itself chilled him.

 

As he went further along, Aragorn had the sense that something or someone was watching him.  He glanced around him but did not see anything.  Thinking it was some trick of the forests, he carried on.  Where he failed to look was above him, in the trees…

 

A myriad amount of narrow, luminous eyes were watching him, keeping track of his every movement.  To his observers, he looked like something their master would appreciate.

 

By the time Aragorn looked above him and behind him to try to dispel his feelings of unease, it was too late.  The spiders had already begun to form a circle around him, and when the first one threw itself at him, the rest followed.  Aragorn drew his sword and managed to defend himself from the first wave of the arachnids, but there were so many of them and he was already weary, and he wondered how much longer he would be able to hold them off.

 

Despite these doubts, Aragorn swung his sword widely, taking care to avoid their mouth and bite.  The spiders swarmed around him, beginning to overwhelm him.  Aragorn cursed as he felt himself being pressed back.  They were forcing him off the path, and there was nothing he was able to do about it.

 

They seemed to materialize out of the foliage, and the darkness made it even harder to see them.  Now that he had indeed been pushed off the path, Aragorn had to worry about avoiding the trees as well as the beasts.  Thoughts of not being able to find the trail again vanished as the human was only worried about avoiding the bite of the spiders.  He continued to step back, swinging his sword, prepared to face the next onslaught…

 

When unexpectedly, he moved his foot back, and it did not touch solid ground.  Aragorn’s eyes widened, and he tried to turn his head so he could see what had gone wrong.  He cursed again.  They had pushed him near a small ravine.

 

The distraction was fatal.

 

Suddenly, a spider threw itself at him from the trees, taking the human slightly by surprise.  Aragorn lashed out at it with his sword, but he had not been fully ready, and he swayed as he desperately managed to gain his footing back.  Taking advantage of his slightly vulnerable state, the spiders swarmed around him and several more leaped towards him from the trees.  As Aragorn tried to duck, he slipped on the edge of the ravine, and this time, he was unable to regain his balance.

 

He could feel himself tumbling downward, and although the descent was not a very long one, he had not been prepared for this and he was unused to the terrain.  Yellow dots danced before his eyes as his head slammed into multiple rocks on the way down.  Aragorn landed in a heap at the bottom, and the pain that shot up his leg told him that something had happened to it.  His last thoughts were of his family, Legolas, and the rangers as unconsciousness claimed him at last and his world went black.

 

Chapter Three

 

Aragorn groaned as consciousness found him again, although as soon as he was alert enough to become aware of his body and position, he immediately wished that he had not been pulled out of the blackness.  His left leg throbbed, and his wrists ached and his head pounded.  He pushed his eyes open to find that he was in a dimly lit room of some sort, and it took him some time to realize that his wrists were bound behind his back.  He was sitting on the ground, and as the world spun gradually back into focus, he realized that he was not in a room, but a cave.  His back was up against the rocky wall, and as he lifted his head he saw that the walls were also lined with brightly glowing torches.  The human could also see that he was not alone.

 

As he looked around the room, Aragorn saw the outlines of four other forms in the cave.  As his eyes adjusted to the semi darkness, he realized to his horror that they were all Elves, and that one of them was Legolas.

 

Aragorn frowned as he tried to remember what had happened before he had blacked out.  He knew that he had been pushed off the path by the spiders, and that he had fallen down the ravine…but how had he arrived here?  And how had Legolas and the others gotten here?

 

Aragorn then turned his gaze to where Legolas lay.  His hands were bound also, but it appeared as though he fared much worse than him.  The Elf was positioned under one of the torches, and from the light that shone down on his friend, Aragorn could see that his tunic was ripped and that his face was bruised.  His eyes were closed, and it was hard for the human to tell if his friend was awake or not.

 

“Legolas?” he whispered.

 

In the corner of the cave, Legolas stirred as he heard his name called.  It did not sound as if it belonged to his brother…in fact, it had sounded a lot like Aragorn.  But that could not be…could it?  He must be imagining things.  Aragorn could not be here.

 

“Legolas?”

 

There it was again.  Maybe this was just some new trick of his brother.  The Elf squeezed his eyes tighter, willing the voice of Aragorn to stop calling his name.

 

“Legolas?  What has happened to you?”

 

Perhaps it really was Aragorn.  But if it was, how had he gotten here?  The Elf willed his eyes to open, and as he adjusted to the light of the cave and looked around, he could see another form lined against the far wall.  And it was Aragorn.

 

Aragorn saw his friend awaken, but before he could say anything, a low laughing sound filled the air.  They both turned to the mouth of the cave, and much to Aragorn’s surprise, he saw another Elf there, framed by the light of the moon, which was preparing to sink soon behind the horizon.

 

Before Aragorn had the chance to speak, Legolas growled quietly, “What have you done to him?”

 

“Ah, so you do know each other.  That is what I thought,” the strange Elf returned, smiling wickedly at Legolas.

 

“What is going on here?” Aragorn cut in, confused and puzzled beyond belief.  He had never seen this Elf before in his life, but by the way they spoke, he could tell that he and Legolas obviously knew each other.  Judging by the expression of Legolas’ face and the tone of his voice, Aragorn could also sense that this was someone that his friend did not want to see.

 

“You mean Legolas has not talked to you about me?” the Elf questioned, turning his smile and eyes to the human.  When Aragorn did not answer, he continued, “I am his brother.  We were just in the process of having a little reunion.”

 

Aragorn tried to hide his surprise as best he could at hearing this information.

 

Brother?

 

The Elf had not moved from his place at the mouth of the cave, and it was difficult for Aragorn to make out his features.  He certainly was the same height as Legolas, and they had the same figure. 

 

 

Legolas muttered something that Aragorn was unable to catch, but the strange Elf had obviously heard it for he replied, “Oh?  That is shame.  I thought you would be happy to see me.”  He smiled wickedly.  “I am glad to see you, brother.  It has been too long since last we met.”

 

Aragorn was about to speak when a low moan came from the back of the cave.  He and Legolas both turned to look, and it appeared that the other Elves who were tied up with them were waking.

 

“Ah, so your other friends have decided to join us.  How pleasant and thoughtful.  I always hated starting parties without all the members present,” Legolas’ brother murmured.

 

“Ow,” one of the Elves in the groaned.  “What happened?  Why can’t I see anything?”

 

The voice sounded familiar to Aragorn.  Before the Elf had a chance to continue, Legolas exclaimed softly, “Elulith?  Raeuwyn?”

 

“Oh, they have names?” the strange Elf questioned.  He paused for a moment before turning to the human.  “I have not heard yours.  Will you give me the pleasure of telling me what it is?”

 

Aragorn growled.  “You seemed to know I was a friend of Legolas.  If you knew this, you should know my name already.  And I believe that I do not know what your name is.  Please enlighten me.”

 

The Elf laughed, but before he could respond, Raeuwyn murmured, “Can someone tell me what is going on?  Where am I?”

 

“I was just about to get to that, but I was waiting until everyone was with me.  Now that it seems that all of you are here, the real fun can begin,” Legolas’ brother responded.

 

Something about this whole thing suddenly felt wrong to Legolas.  He had only heard two voices.  Three other Elves had been with him.

 

“What have you done to Isindil?” Legolas demanded, turning to face his brother.

 

The Elf grinned, and the smile that was on his face grew even wider.  “His impudence got the best of him.  I believe he will not be waking up for a very long time.”

 

Aragorn blinked, and Legolas sat in an angry, stunned silence.  It was Raeuwyn who managed to speak first.  “You didn’t…”

 

“It was not my fault.  He was not cooperating with me,” the Elf explained, tilting his head to the side so he could have a better vantage point of Raeuwyn.  “The same thing could happen to you if you do not behave.”

 

No one could speak.  The whole situation had suddenly taken a very dangerous turn.  Aragorn felt numb.  How had everything happened so fast?  He didn’t like not knowing what was going on, and what he was going up against.

 

“Step farther into the cave, so that the torch light shines upon your face.  I want to see who you are,” the human informed, trying to keep the unease and fear out of his voice.

 

“Very well, if that is what you want, human.”  With that said, the Elf stepped forward, and when Aragorn could see more than just the outline of his figure, he gasped.  The whole half of his face was darkened, with marks that looked as though they had come from serious burns.

 

“I always knew that that fire had made you sick and twisted,” Legolas spoke, his voice low and menacing.  “It poisoned you.”

 

“That is what you think?  Oh no, you have a very wrong attitude about this whole thing.  It was not the fire, although that did cause it.  It was how everyone acted towards me after the accident.”

 

When Legolas did not answer, the Elf continued, “I became shunned by everyone, including you, and father.  I was kept hidden away inside, as though I had some sort of foreign, mysterious, disease.  And it was all because of these marks, since no one could ever really heal them.”  His voice had turned bitter as he pointed to the left side of his face.

 

“It was your own fault that gave you those marks,” Legolas returned, his tone equally dark as the scars on his brother’s face.  “You did not listen.  Even after father told you—”

 

“Even after father told you,” the Elf interrupted, mimicking his brother.  “I was always the bad one, wasn’t I?  The one who never listened to father, the one who never did what he was told.  Well, now I am getting my revenge, aren’t I?”

 

“It will not last long,” Legolas replied confidently.  “I told father I would be back by nightfall.  It is well passed that now, and I am sure he will have Elves out looking for me.”  He paused before he continued, “and you are the one who will pay, Vandaril, my brother.  Before all this is over, you will die.  You will not get away with what you have done, and I will avenge the death of Isindil and the pain you have inflicted upon my friends.  You have my word on that.”

 

Chapter Four

 

Elrond sighed as he pushed aside his paperwork, willing the headache that had been building up behind his eyes to fade away.  He set aside his pen and massaged his temples with his hands as he gave a death glare at the piles of paper standing before him, mocking him.

 

Elrond, Lord of Imladris, unable to deal with a stack of paper.

 

He chuckled slightly, but he knew they were more than just stacks of paper.  It did make it easier now that he and Lord Thranduil were on better terms.  Elrond thought about this.  It was really the friendship between Legolas and Aragorn that had drawn the two Elf Lords back together again, and that was when another thought had started to grow in Elrond’s mind.  A deeper bond between their two distant kingdoms could be forged with the aid of their children.

 

That was what had prompted him to write out a recent letter to Thranduil, asking for Legolas to be sent to Imladris.  The letter had been sent out two weeks ago, and so the Mirkwood King should be receiving it at about this time.  He had another written a note and had had it taken to Lothlorien several weeks back now as well.  He missed Arwen, his Evenstar, and longed to see her again.  There were other reasons why he wanted her brought to Imladris, and he felt a smile spread across his face as he thought of Arwen’s expression when she found out his plans.

 

He pushed back his chair and sighed.  The sun was setting, and evening was drawing near.  He had not been out of this room all day, and now that he actually thought about it, he could not remember having eaten either.  He breathed deeply and stood before walking over to his study window.  The slight breeze blew through the trees, and the treetops that bent in his direction with the wind seemed to be inviting him to go out to take a walk.  How he wished he could be out there…

 

As he stared at the outdoors, his thoughts drifted to Aragorn, as they did many times when he was alone and did not have the bickering of his twin sons to keep him company, if he could even call that company.  He sighed again, and his eyes appeared distant.  Aragorn’s destiny had crept up on him sooner than the Elf Lord had ever intended, and he had a hard time being able to accept the fact that Aragorn’s life was now out of his hands.

 

But it always was, an inner voice whispered to him, and it had been from the moment Aragorn had arrived at Imladris.  You knew that one day, his destiny would claim him, and that was something that was always out of your control.  And yet, knowing this, you still took him in as your own.

 

And he had, even with the knowledge that one day, they would be parted.  Even now that that day had come, seven years ago, he did not regret the decision he had made.  He only hoped that Ilúvatar would watch over his foster son, and protect him from the hands of fate.

 

Elrond closed his eyes and Aragorn’s image appeared before him.  He lifted a hand as if he were reaching it up to lay it upon his foster son’s cheek, and he held it in place as he focused on Aragorn’s eyes, wanting to capture every detail of his son’s face before he vanished from him.

 

It was then that he sensed that something was wrong.  He did not know where the feeling had come from, but it had been something in those eyes that had sent a chilling fear from him.

 

Aragorn’s in danger.

 

Elrond opened his eyes, and found that his hand was resting upon the wall near the window.  He frowned as he discovered that his pervious feeling of foreboding had passed.  What had that been?

 

Voices from the hallway then drifted to his ears, and they drew him out of his musings.

 

“Wait till father hears about what you have done now, brother.”

 

“What I’ve done?  If you had not of snuck up behind me, none of that would have happened!  You were asking for it!”

 

“If you had been using your Elven reflexes, and had been paying attention to every detail of the surroundings, and not just those deer, my arm would not be about ready to fall to the floor!”

 

Elrond sighed.  His sons were home from a hunting party, and from the way this conversation was going, it appeared to Elrond that they had found a way to get into trouble again, or trouble had found a way to them.  He walked away from the window towards his door.  Taking a deep breath, he opened it only to find himself facing his twin sons.

 

Elrond studied them.  Elrohir appeared to be in good shape, but as his eyes moved over to Elladan, he saw that his brother did not fare as well.

 

“What has happened to your arm, Elladan?” Elrond asked, although from what he had heard, he sensed that Elrohir had had something to do with it.

 

Elladan opened his mouth, but before he had a chance to speak, Elrohir protested, “Now, come on, brother, you cannot put all the blame on me for this one.  I shall not allow it.”

 

Elrond smiled and then answered, “Well, will you tell me your side of the tale?  I surely will not be able to make a decision about this unless I have heard the whole thing.”

 

“Yes, you shall hear everything in due time,” Elladan remarked through clenched teeth as he clutched his injured right arm with his left hand.  “But first, may you help me with my arm, Ada?”

 

Elrond chuckled.  “Certainly, my son.”

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“And so that is everything, father,” Elrohir finished.

 

“I see,” Elrond stated thoughtfully.

 

They were sitting together around a blazing fire in one of Elrond’s spare rooms, having just finished dinner.  Elladan was gazing at his father expectantly, and when it looked he was going to say no more than that, he asked, slightly incredulous, “Well, you are not going to let him get away with that, are you?”

 

“You are just as much to blame as I!” Elrohir protested again, jumping up from his chair indignantly.  “If you had not decided that it would be fun to sneak up on me while we were lying in wait for those deer, I would not have spun around and cut your arm!”

 

Elrond’s eyes sparkled as Elladan told him, “You have no sense of humor, brother.  But you should have seen the look on your face.  It was priceless.”

 

Elrohir glowered darkly at his twin.  “I suppose you shall never let me live this one down.”

 

“No, I will not,” Elladan agreed thoughtfully.  “And just think:  I can tell the story all over again to our little brother, if he ever comes here to visit us.”

 

Elrohir’s eyes flashed in annoyance, but they then appeared distant as his thoughts turned to Aragorn.  He really was not all that little anymore, but it was a title they used with fondness.  The younger twin sighed.  “You know, I never thought I would live to say this, but it is rather boring around here without Estel, is it not?”

 

Elrond chuckled, and Elladan remarked, “You are saying that now?  How can you when you have me to put up with, brother.  I should think that would be enough.”

 

“Yes,” Elrond stated firmly, causing the two twins to chuckle lightly.  “It most certainly is enough for me.  I do not know how I put up with all three of you.”

 

Elrohir hugged his father affectionately.  “I wonder what Estel is doing now,” he murmured.  “Probably in some sort of scrape, no doubt.  He was forever getting into trouble.”

 

“What goes around, comes around,” Elladan mumbled, and they all laughed good-naturedly.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Vandaril.

 

The name sent chills up Aragorn’s spine.  What did he plan to do with us?  Something told Aragorn he did not want to find out, if Isindil’s fate held true to all of theirs.  He shuddered.  How could anyone be so cruel?  From his story, though, it appeared that he had become that way, and was not always like he was now.  He shook his head.  If he had just seen Vandaril from the back, he would have thought he was Legolas, for they were so similar in build.  So alike, and yet so different.

 

His darker side.

 

It did seem to be like that.  Vandaril was everything that Legolas was not.  Perhaps that was what turned him into what he was.  Knowing that he would never be seen to be as fair as Legolas was—especially after he received those scars—had probably been the impetus needed for him to start his evil.  As if to prove his point, Vandaril’s wicked laugh filled the cave.  Aragorn remained quiet, not wanting any attention to be drawn to him.

 

“Your word means nothing in this place, brother.  Perhaps with father it does, but not with me.  You have no power here,” the Elf remarked, his voice dark and low.

 

As they had been talking, Aragorn had begun to rub his wrists back and forth in attempt to free his hands from the rope.  It was tied firmly, but it wasn’t that tight.  He had been taught techniques of how to move bound hands to release them from tight rope from his brothers, and he had gotten quite good at it.  Even in his slightly weakened state, Aragorn was determined to free his wrists.  Now was the perfect opportunity, for Vandaril’s attention was focused mainly on Legolas, and he had been forgotten, at least for this moment.  He may never have a chance like this again.

 

“These are still my father’s woods,” Legolas threatened.  “If he finds that you have harmed me in any way, you will face a penalty of death.”

 

Vandaril moved closer to his brother as he answered, “What makes you think that your father will ever see you again?  Did you really think that this time, I would let you go freely?  If you had, you have been mistaken, brother.  I have already erred in this way before, when I left without getting rid of you.”

 

“You were always trying to kill me after you fell in that fire,” Legolas told him darkly.  “That was what let to your exile.”

 

Vandaril laughed.  “So naïve.”  He paused, and then continued, “Well, I must admit that it has been fun, but everything must come to an end.”

 

Legolas tensed, and Aragorn straightened.  He had almost freed his hands.  He could feel the rope loosening.  Vandaril stepped over to the wall, and lifted the torch that hung above Legolas from its place in the cave.  Vandaril studied the fire, and the flames were reflected in his dark eyes as he murmured softly, “So bright and so beautiful.  It is very much like your face, brother.  Perhaps some more light will add a nice touch to it.”

 

Legolas growled.  “You would not dare…”

 

Vandaril chuckled.  “Would I?”

 

He moved away from the wall then, and at this point, several things happened simultaneously.  First, the rope slid from Aragorn’s hands, releasing his wrists.  Then Vandaril suddenly lunged forward with the torch of fire, aiming for Legolas’ face, and taking the elf completely by surprise so that he had no time to react.  Aragorn leaped to his feat and ran towards them, his shout mingled with surprised cries from Elulith and Raeuwyn echoing throughout the cave.

 

“Legolas, no!”

Chapter Five

 

Everything happened faster than Legolas was able to comprehend.  In the blink of an eye, it seemed, Aragorn was beside him, having been thrown none too gently against the cave wall.  He closed his eyes and moaned quietly, hugging his now burning hand to his chest.  He silently cursed his sore leg.  If that had not given way beneath him…

 

Blinding pain shot through him then as something hard kicked his already aching leg, and he tried his best to prevent a groan from escaping his lips.  Forcing his closed lids open, he found himself staring into the fiery eyes of Vandaril, which seemed surrounded by flames that burned as brightly as the torch he had previously been carrying, which now lay extinguished on the ground.

 

“That was not a smart move, my young edan,” the dark Elf growled, his brother not being the main occupation of his mind for this brief moment.  Why had he not paid closer attention to the human?  His plans had now been spoilt…

 

Well, not all of them.  A wicked smile began to adorn his already malevolent facial expression, made even more hideous by the blackened scars that covered the left side of his face.  It seemed that he was going to have to kill this man sooner than he had intended.  He did not have the time to risk anything more…

 

Legolas’ mind was spinning.  How had that happened?  Then he realized.  Aragorn had put himself in danger to save him.  He felt cold anger building up inside of his body.  If this Elf had done any serious damage to his friend, or to Elulith and Raeuwyn, he would pay…and Isindil’s death still had to be avenged.

 

Vandaril was about to open his pursed lips to speak, but he was never given the opportunity.  Before he had the chance to respond, Legolas spoke up from his position on the floor, his voice low and menacing, “Why does he concern you?  ‘Tis me you want, not him.”

 

Vandaril turned his eyes, which now sparkled wickedly, to the golden haired prince.  “Ah, see, that is where you err, my dear brother.”

 

Greatly relieved that the conversation had been turned away from him for the time being, Aragorn closed his eyes once more and willed the dull pain that was flowing through him to subside.  He still made sure to keep one ear open so he would be able to follow the exchange between them, lest he should be brought back to Vandaril’s attention.

 

“Pray tell me why you deem this to be so, brother?” Legolas demanded, his last word laced with venomous hatred and sarcasm.

 

His dark brother smirked at him.  “You mean to tell me that you can hazard no guesses?”

 

Legolas glowered fiercely at him, his eyes narrowing into slits.

 

“No answer?” Vandaril exclaimed, his darkened eyebrows rising in surprise.  “Here, let me show you…”

 

Aragorn gasped and his eyes fluttered open as something heavy slammed into his chest, his breathing turning labored at the renewed pain surging through him.  Any speech that he possessed seemed to be knocked out of him as he attempted to get his lungs working properly again.  Trying to keep the worry out of his features, a growl elicited from Legolas’ throat as he hissed, “Leave him be.”

 

Vandaril smiled pleasantly.  “See, I am afraid that I cannot do that, for whatever pain I inflict on him is shown on your face as well.”  Before Legolas could interject, his brother continued, “Do not try to hide it, for you are only making it worse.”  Vandaril paused and looked thoughtfully into the back of the cave where the outlines of Elulith and Raeuwyn could be seen.  “I have not forgotten about them either,” he informed Legolas, whose eyes flashed in anger.  “I know they are very upset about being excluded from the fun up here, but their turn shall come soon enough.”  He stopped briefly to ponder that statement.  No, that was wrong.  There was still something else that he had to do.  “After I have killed the human.”

 

Icy hands of fear gripped Legolas’ heart, and his eyes turned cold as he tried to struggle to his feet.  No sooner had the attempt been made then Vandaril had shoved him back down again, and Legolas winced as his already ripped up back hit the stony rocks of the cave, and he found that he was unable to speak for the moment.  Vandaril grinned wickedly at him, and let his eyes return to the edan.  He did not know how or why his brother would have wanted to befriend one of those animals in the first place, but that question could be saved for another time, after he had been dealt with.  He let his hand grip the knife that he had made sure to keep out of sight from both of them, and as he pulled it out of the sheath that was strapped behind his back, Vandaril studied the human’s expression with an amused look on his face.

 

Aragorn’s breath had caught in his throat as the Elf had uttered those last words.  His eyes widened gradually in fear, and he was about to rise to his feet in an attempt to protect himself when something caught his attention.  It had been the look of pain adorning Legolas’ face as he had been shoved back into the wall.  He turned to look at his friend in surprise, momentarily forgetting his own predicament as his thoughts were occupied with his friend.

 

The distraction had been fatal.  No sooner had he started to open his mouth when he felt something cold pressed against the exposed skin of his neck.  He could feel the warm breath of Vandaril against his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the expression of hatred printed across the dark Elf’s features.

 

The blade pressed even further against his neck, and Aragorn bit his lip to prevent a moan from escaping as he the faint smell of blood reached his nostrils.

 

“Your time has run out, edan,” Vandaril whispered, so low that Aragorn was almost unable to discern what he had spoken.  “It has been fun, but all good things must come to an end.  I shall give you until the count of three to prepare yourself to enjoy and treasure your last breaths.”

 

Aragorn gulped as he tried to force himself to think logically, and not to let the fear envelope him completely.  Valar…if only his brothers could see him now…

 

“One…”

 

Vandaril’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing the human back to the painful present.  Use your brain…think…

 

“Two…”

 

There was no time to think!  The panicked voice rang through Aragorn’s mind as he realized that it was right.  What he needed was a blade, but Vandaril had, of course, taken their weapons before they had been bound.

 

“Two and a half…”

 

Aragorn groaned quietly.  Just get it over with.

 

“Two and three fourths…”

 

Vandaril inched the blade further into the slit he had created, enjoying the way the human’s eyes squeezed tighter in the pain.  The dark Elf was just about to open his mouth to speak when suddenly a loud clamor outside of the cave caught his attention.  He had noticed the faint noise for a while, and he had been trying to ignore it for he desperately wanted to deal with the human.  Now, however, the noise was too loud to be ignored, and he straightened, making sure not to release the knife from the man’s throat.  He had already made that mistake, and did not plan on making it again.  Aragorn felt himself relax.  Fortune had been with him again, it seemed…

 

Legolas had been watching the scene helplessly, knowing that there was nothing he could do to aid his friend.  It was as Vandaril had begun his countdown that the Elf realized that his mind had not been working properly.  As thought came back, he cursed his brief moment of panic as he frantically began to work at releasing his hands from the bonds.  If Aragorn had done it, so could he.

 

The fair-haired prince was thankful for the noise outside the cave, for he could see that Vandaril’s attention was now elsewhere.  His relief, however, turned quickly to dismay as he recognized the familiar hissing of the spiders and the sound of arrows whizzing through the air.  He hoped the new arrivals were not who he deemed them to be…

 

Vandaril muttered a thick curse under his breath as he realized that the human would once again have to wait for another time.  “It seems as though my spiders have found more playmates,” he hissed venomously, his eyes wreathed by rings of fire.  Aragorn could not resist the shudder that passed through him as Vandaril continued, “let us see if they would like to join the fun, shall we?”

 

He smiled wickedly and stood to walk to the mouth of the cave.  The grin grew wider and his eyes sparkled maliciously at the pleasing scene before him.  Finally…

 

Legolas struggled to see what was happening, but his brother’s figure was blocking his view.

 

“Legolas?  What—” Elulith’s faint words were colored with confusion, but the Elf paid it no heed as his focus was trained purely on the back of his brother.

 

“Is this not a pleasant surprise?  We meet again at long last!”

 

The hissing along with the sounds of arrows and hooves had stopped, and Legolas could only suspect that his brother had somehow ordered the spiders to return to the cover of the trees.  All of his thought stopped then as an all too familiar voice reached Legolas’ ears.  He froze and felt his blood turn cold.

 

 “I should have suspected that you were behind this, for I had a feeling that I had not seen the last of you after your banishment.”

 

Aragorn too felt fear as he recognized the strong, confident tone of the new comer.  No.  This could not be happening…

 

“You are smarter than you look then.  I suppose you know what I have as well?”  Vandaril answered, and Legolas could almost feel the smile that played across his brother’s face.

 

“Yes,” the voice answered coldly.  “I ask you to release him.”

 

“I am afraid I cannot do that, my good king Thranduil.”  He paused, choosing his next words carefully.  Aragorn and Legolas both cringed as they were released from his mouth, dripping with a venomous anger.  “For you see…he is dead.”

 

Chapter Six

 

It was a simply glorious day.  Not a single gray cloud marred the shimmering blue sky, and the sun was permitted to shine in all its brilliant, golden glory.  The treetops were luscious and deep green in color, and they rested proudly atop the sturdy boughs and branches of the oaken trunks.  The gentle whispering wind that occasionally moved in and out of the leafy green foliage provided a refreshing respite against the heat of the glowing sun, and the birds sang their sweet melodies in tune with the rustling of the leaves.  No one could have asked for better weather.

 

“A perfect day to go hunting,” Elrohir had declared earlier, desiring to go outside for the day.

 

Now, around mid afternoon, after the sun had already passed its zenith, he and Elladan were riding on horseback side by side in the forests of Imladris, their hunt as of yet not being nearly as successful as the weather had been.

 

“Just our luck,” Elrohir grumbled presently.  “Even when Estel and Legolas are not here, fortune never seems to be on our side.  What say you, Elladan?”

 

The slightly older twin did not answer.  Elrohir glanced sideways at him and frowned.  His brother had been unnaturally quiet during the whole trip, and it seemed to Elrohir that he had been having one-sided conversations with himself to fill up the quiet for the majority of the duration of their hunt.  Now that he was peering more closely at Elladan’s face, he could clearly glimpse the preoccupation that dwelled there, and the remote gaze that his eyes held.

 

“Elladan?” Elrohir tried again, hoping that he would be rewarded with an answer.

 

“Hmm?” The faraway look in Elladan’s features was echoed in his distant sounding voice, and although this had not been the sort of response that Elrohir had had in mind, he was making progress, and that, he mused, was always the first step towards success.

 

“Pray tell if there is something on your mind that is troubling you,” Elrohir pressed, determined this time to get a better reaction.

 

Elladan sighed heavily then, and Elrohir could not resist giving a small, triumphant smile of satisfaction.  He knew his brother well enough to know when something was bothering him.

 

“Well…” Elladan began, and trailed off, his voice tinged with uncertainty and a tad of reluctance.

 

 “Yes?” Elrohir prodded, not about to give up.

 

“I had this dream.”

 

The slightly younger twin raised his slender dark eyebrows up in surprise.  That was all?  He could not help but feel a little worry, though.  If that was all then why was he being so hesitant to talk about it?

 

“A dream?” Elrohir questioned, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.  “What sort of dream?”

 

Elladan paused, debating on whether or not to tell him.  It had not made a whole lot of sense…but he had a strange feeling that there was more to it than met the eye.

 

“I dreamt that Estel was attacked by a giant spider.”

 

It came out in a rush, but Elrohir heard every word.  He felt his previous concern begin to ebb away, and he could not help but to release a little laugh, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

 

“A spider?” he asked around chuckles, the exclamation colored with incredulity.  “How did that image come into your head?”

 

Elladan glowered darkly at his brother, irked greatly at his twin’s response, which had been the main reason why he had not really wanted to tell him in the first place.  He knew he would just get laughed at. 

 

“I do not know!” Elladan shot back, slightly exasperated.  “Twas just a dream, that’s all.  It probably didn’t mean anything.”

 

Elrohir sighed and shook his head, tears of mirth pooling in the corners of his sparkling silver-blue eyes.  “To think that you caused yourself and I slight concern over that!  Wait till I tell Estel.”

 

Elladan glowered darkly at him and grumbled, “Oh, do shut up.  I have better things to do than listen to your incessant prattle!”

 

Elrohir laughed good-naturedly.  “Like thinking about giant spiders?” He asked, eyes shimmering still with unshed tears of amusement.

 

Elladan growled threateningly, and Elrohir quickly recognized this vocalization as a warning that he was beginning to push it.  Hm, he thought gleefully to himself, I wonder what would happen if I did push him over the edge.  How much joy I get to watch my brother boil so like this…

 

In the end, though, Elrohir decided to lay off, but not without putting in a last line.  As he urged his horse to canter at a faster pace so that he outdistanced his brother, he called back, “You are just too sensitive, and you really should learn to lighten up a bit!  They have therapy classes for that, you know!”

 

Not willing to let the conversation rest without adding a final insult of his own, Elladan retorted hotly, “Dolle naa lost [Your mind is empty], Elrohir!  Auta miqula orqu [Go kiss an orc]!”

 

Elrohir simply laughed and pushed his horse on even further so that they disappeared around the bend of the forest path.  Elladan shook his head, but couldn’t help a small frown from marring his fair features.

 

 Perhaps it had been just a ridiculous dream…but even so…he could not shake off the strange feeling of foreboding that was sneaking up his spine…  

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Not in a long time had so many different emotions flooded through Thranduil’s being.  It had taken him and the small contingent of warriors he had taken with him many long hours to find the small ravine, and then the cave that had been tucked back away in the distance of the rocky walls.  As soon as the spiders had advanced and taken them over, it had not taken the Elven king that long to figure out what had happened to his younger son, and who had been responsible.  Vandaril had always possessed a twisted mind…and with that had come a strange passion and fascination with the arachnids, fire, and even with the dark creatures of the enemy.

 

Vandaril…

 

Seeing his eldest son stand before him sent shivers through Thranduil’s spine, and he found it hard to look at the darkened scars which marred the left side of his face.  His smoldering eyes bore a deep hole of regret into the Elven king’s body, and he closed his eyes as a wave of memories flooded through him, nearly suffocating him with their intensity.  With great effort, he tried to push them back and focus on the scene at hand.

 

He is dead…

 

He willed the words to be false, but a seed of doubt was beginning to grow in the back of his mind, and it was gradually sprouting into fear, which was an emotion that the king rarely felt, and he was not fully sure of how to control.

 

“So, even now you cannot bring yourself to look at me?  Despite all the time that has passed?”  Vandaril’s voice cut through his thoughts, as sharp and painful as the blade of a knife piercing flesh.

 

No, he would not believe it…

 

“Where is my son?” Thranduil tried to keep the words steady and calm, and he tried desperately to quell the river of rage that was swirling within him.  He had to keep a focused mind, and he could not allow his emotions to distract him.

 

A malicious grin swept across Vandaril’s features, and he resisted the urge to glance back into the darkness of the cave to glimpse his younger brother’s reaction to his words.

 

“Yes, it was always about him, wasn’t it?  Perfect, fair, young Prince Legolas…” his words were entwined with a bitter, fiery hatred, and his eyes had narrowed into slits.

 

Thranduil was about to open his mouth to speak, but Vandaril cut him off.  “Oh, do not worry, your Highness,” he spoke, saying the last word in a drawl of mockery and sarcasm.  “He is not dead…yet.”

 

The archers that were beside Thranduil had drawn and strung their and were now holding them taut and ready, prepared to fire should the word be given.  Thranduil held his arm out in front of them, which told them wordlessly to hold their aim.  Vandaril found immense amusement out of this situation, and his grin widened.

 

Thranduil growled.  “What have you done with my son?”  The low, deadly, dangerous tone of his voice would have struck fear into the hearts of any other being, but Vandaril stood seemingly undaunted by it.  If anything, it only seemed to augment the wicked joy that was flowing through his veins.

 

“Absolutely nothing, I can assure you,” he answered, his voice now sounding much too cheerful for Thranduil’s liking.  “He still breathes anyway…” Upon seeing a darkened cloud pass over Thranduil’s face, Vandaril continued hastily, “Which is much more than I can say for one of his Elven friends…and the edan isn’t doing that well either…”

 

Edan?  For a moment Thranduil was startled as this new information met his ears.  So, Aragorn was with him too, then?  But the Mirkwood king pushed these thoughts aside.  He did not have any worry or care for the Dunedain now.

 

“Vandaril…” Thranduil’s voice rumbled like a dark thundercloud, and Vandaril wondered briefly if he had said too much.

 

Oh, well, that doesn’t matter, he thought darkly to himself.  Soon this will all be over with, and I will have my revenge…

 

“Do not worry…Highness,” Vandaril sneered, “I can guarantee that your precious son is in one piece.  That is what you wanted, was it not?  But now,” he pressed forward almost gleefully, before Thranduil had a chance to intervene, “You have very little power.  I am in control here.  So, if you want to see him again alive, I suggest you listen to the demands I have.”

 

Thranduil smoldered and he bore a stony expression, but he stayed silent, at this point not willing to do anything that may put his son in further danger…

 

Chapter Seven

 

Legolas had ceased listening to the conversation between his father and brother a long time ago.  He could feel the perspiration beading on his forehead as his anxiety grew with every proceeding second, and his distraction with the confrontation outside made it exceedingly difficult to wrench the ropes off his wrists.  It seemed as though he had been trying for hours, but he was no closer to succeeding than he had been from the beginning.  He wondered idly where Aragorn had learned such a task.  It had been from his brothers, no doubt.

 

Legolas’ brows furrowed in concentration as he worked with the thick bonds, hoping that they would just loosen up.  His thoughts drifted to his friends tied up in the back, and he wondered if they were all right.  He was glad and relieved that they were smart enough to keep quiet, so as not to draw any unwanted attention to themselves.

 

Through his own pain, Aragorn noticed the trouble that Legolas was going through in his attempts to free his wrists from the fetters that bound them.  He managed to give a slight smile.  Apparently the king had not thought it necessary as of yet to instruct Legolas in the proper way to get out of bonds like these.

 

 The Elf prince glanced sideways at his friend and glared briefly at his smile, cursing the distractions that were giving the main difficulty in this task.  “What, pray tell, is so funny, mellonamin?” Legolas asked quietly through gritted teeth, not desiring any unwanted attention from his brother—or father, for that matter—that any noise from them might procure.

 

Aragorn shook his head slowly, and despite his efforts to prevent it, his smile grew wider.  “Nothing, Legolas.”

 

The prince scowled at the ranger and grumbled rather irately, “Well, that nothing is giving you a lot to grin over.  Mind telling me what your problem is?”  The Elf was becoming more and more frustrated at the resistance the ropes were giving him, and he wondered then if his brother had made his tighter, misjudging the strength and skill of the human.  He let out a soft grunt of irritation.  That would have been like him…

 

“I believe that I am not the one with the problem this time, mellonamin.”  The ranger paused, wondering if it would be wise to continue.  He abandoned this train of thought quickly, knowing that any opportunity to poke fun at the prince’s skill and ability in anything was worth it. 

 

“So I see that King Thranduil has not showed you how to get out of bonds in the right manner?” Aragorn asked finally, eyes sparkling.  He was taking the greatest care in making sure to keep his voice down.  He had not forgotten the predicament they were in, and it could very easily turn grisly if they were not careful.  This round of thinking almost elicited a chuckle from him.  They always managed to turn the worst situations into rather hilarious ones, no matter what state they were in.

 

Legolas grumbled something under his breath then that Aragorn did not catch.  “Mind repeating that, my prince?” the human asked, trying his best to turn somber, knowing that at this point, anything could happen, and it would not be best to be caught off guard.

 

“If you had been listening, instead of sitting there like a grinning idiot, I said will you just help me out of these confounded ropes, you nift?” Legolas demanded, his Elvish pride not liking the fact that he had to request help twice. 

 

Although his tone was quiet, it had all the authority it possessed when he was speaking in a normal volume, and Aragorn smiled at him as he went to work wordlessly on the prince’s bonds.  As he did so, he tried his best to ignore the pain in his burned hand, although that was quite difficult since it felt as though he had dipped it in a vat of boiling lava.  His leg was not doing all that well either.  The ranger let out a sigh, knowing that he would have to remember this scene for later.  It was not everyday the prince admitted to requiring help from something, especially from him.  He decided that now was not the moment to bring the matter up.  It would be useful ammunition for another time.

 

It only took another handful of minutes for Aragorn to free Legolas’ wrists, and the Elf could not help but let out a quiet hiss of pain as he felt the blood return to his hands and fingers.  As he attempted to rise to his feet, he heard his brother’s voice drift back to them from the mouth of the cave, apparently signaling the end of the conversation that he had lost track of a long time ago.

 

“…and we would not want that, now would we, my king?”

 

Legolas found himself clenching and unclenching his fists in silent anger as he listened to his brother mock his father.  Not caring anymore what happened if Vandaril were to turn around and see that he had escaped from his bonds, he began to move forward and closer to the entrance, ignoring the sharp hiss of disapproval that Aragorn let out from his place on the floor.

 

The ranger did not want to see his friend get hurt, and at this point, he was not sure if he could get up.  His leg was killing him, and he doubted if it would even be able to hold his weight.  Aragorn let out a sigh of frustration.  He felt so helpless…

 

    “I want to see my son.”  Thranduil’s voice, bold and confident, rang out strongly and Legolas felt a pang of unexpected guilt strike him as he was able to glimpse his father’s tall, proud figure behind the body of his brother.

 

Valar, the prince thought, my father has to go through so much just for me…

 

“Legolas…” Aragorn protested, attempting to call the prince back and let him see reason.  It would do no good to push Vandaril over the edge and have him perform a sudden, unexpected move that might just get them both killed.  However, in his urgency for his friend’s safety, he had forgotten to keep his voice down, and Aragorn silently cursed his negligence as the conversation outside the cave broke.

 

 

 

…But my dreams

They aren’t as empty

As my conscience seems to be

 

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That’s never free

 

No one knows what it’s like

To feel these feelings

Like I do

And I blame you…

 

--The Who, “Behind Blue Eyes”

 

Vandaril let out a snarl, which sounded uncannily like a warg and very much unlike any vocalization an Elf would make, as he heard the ranger’s voice break through the conversation he was just finishing up.  He had come so close to forcing the king to give in to his demans—something he was almost confident would happen if his precious son Legolas was in jeopardy—and the Mirkwood kingdom had almost been his, but that confounded human had the stupidity to interrupt again.  The fact that he had spoken Legolas’ name intrigued him, and as he saw Thranduil stiffen in front of him, he knew that the king had heard the call as well.

 

“Vandaril…” the king began, his voice tense and hard.  He’d thought he saw movement within the inky blackness of the cave, but now that the sun had just about set, it was difficult to make out the shapes, and the flickering of the torches inside made it all the harder to see in.

 

The Elf did not answer, but instead turned around, and as he saw Legolas moving towards him and unbound, something inside him seemed to break.  The final straw had been pulled, and he could feel himself falling over the edge.  Red spots of rage danced before his eyes, and all logical thought proceeded to evaporate out of his mind and into the air.

 

In desperation, Vandaril lunged into the cave and found himself grabbing the nearest torch that hung on the wall.  As he threw his body forward, he aimed the flaming firebrand at his brother and released it.

 

Multiple cries of warning reached Legolas’ ears, but he had seen the move coming and was ready for it.  His brother had acted from impulse, and that had proven to be fatal.  The prince ducked and made for the ground as the torch flew over him.  The fiery weapon continued to fly over the heads of Elulith and Raeuwyn to land in the darkest recess of the cave, promptly becoming extinguished.

 

Legolas quickly rose to his feet as Vandaril let out a cry of anger and charged towards him.  The Elf’s wild run soon stopped short, and Vandaril found himself stumbling the rest of the way to land limply in the surprised arms of Legolas.

 

Shocked, the Elf prince gazed past the golden hair that tumbled over his brother’s forehead to see the shaft of an arrow protruding from his back.  As Legolas turned to look back at his brother’s face, his expression and body turned numb with disbelief as his gaze rested upon the wide, glazed over eyes of his brother.

 

Silence had fallen over everyone, and Legolas was focused so much on his brother’s body that he had not noticed his father move to stand beside him until he felt Thranduil’s hand rest upon his shoulder.

 

“I…I am sorry, my son,” the king spoke, breaking the quiet at last, mistaking his son’s quiet for grief.  “But it had to be done.”  He had tried to reason with Vandaril, but the Elf would not listen.  The last thing Thranduil wanted to see was Legolas’ life in danger, and one of his bodyguards had released the arrow instinctively. 

 

Legolas nodded slowly.  “Yes, I know father,” he answered, “I am not saddened, and I have no regrets—I wanted his death.  I only wish that things could have been different.  If only he had listened to you and had not chosen to climb up that tree and then slip and fall into the bonfire on that winter solstice celebration that long, long day ago…”

 

Aragorn spoke up softly from his place on the floor, “We can spend our whole lives dwelling on ‘what ifs,’ Legolas.  The past is the past, and what happened…happened.  Everyone is faced with choices, good and bad, and the ones that your brother made led up to his fate that came to pass today.  He had his mind made up, and nothing was going to change it.  He wanted to die, Legolas, and for that, there is no reason to pity him—he has at last found peace.”

 

Legolas and his father both turned to gaze thoughtfully at the ranger.  He looks much older than he is now, Legolas mused to himself, and speaks with the wisdom of an Elf, one who has seen many years and experienced many ordeals.

 

“You speak with a wisdom beyond your years, Aragorn, son of Arathorn,” Thranduil answered with a slight smile, voicing the thoughts in Legolas’ mind.

 

The Elf prince grinned fondly down at his friend.  “Yes, he’s a strange one, alright.”

 

Aragorn chuckled.  “You’re not that much better yourself, dear prince.”

 

A comforting silence fell, and it was in this moment that a painful thought made its way back into the conscience of Legolas’ mind.  Choking down tears, he turned to Thranduil and began, “Father, Isindil…”

 

He could not finish, but the Elven king already sensed what it was his son had been trying to say.  Thranduil gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.  “I understand, my son.  Do not worry, he will not be forgotten—I will notify his family of the news, and will hold a ceremony to honor his name.”  The king paused, and as he looked at the form of Vandaril still in Legolas’ arms, he finished, “We can decide the best way to lay him down to rest as well.”

 

Legolas nodded mutely, finding himself at the moment bereft of speech. 

 

“And now,” Raeuwyn spoke up from his position in the back of the cave, “may we go home?  I have had enough of this place.”

 

The Elf prince gazed fondly at his friends, and passing the limp body of Vandaril wordlessly over to his father, he moved to the back of the cave and untied the ropes that bound the hands of Elulith and Raeuwyn.  It is much easier to take them off of someone else, the prince mused as the two Elves stood and stretched their muscles tentatively.  That job done, Legolas then headed over to Aragorn, and, grinning evilly at his the human, he reached out a hand and helped the ranger to his feet.  Aragorn stumbled forward with a grunt, falling heavily on his friend.

 

Thranduil managed a slight smile as the three Elves and the Human moved to stand beside him.  Gazing at his son fondly, he announced at last, “Yes.”  He gripped the body of Vandaril tighter as he finished, “It is time to go home.”

 

Chapter Eight

 

Aragorn was tired, and yet he could not sleep, even though his body was in dire want of it.  Perhaps it had something to with the fact that his sore leg was giving him trouble—the healers had told him that he had not broken any bones, or acquired a sprain, but had fallen awkwardly on it and had only twisted the ankle slightly.  It would pain him for a few days and then would feel good as new.  It was hurting the ranger now a little, but he knew that was not the reason why rest would not find him. 

 

Or maybe it was due to the tenderness of his burned hand.  The healers had bandaged it tightly and had cleaned it to stave off infection, and had told him also that it would give him some trouble for a bit.  On a lighter note, the burns had not been serious, and the human was grateful for that—he just hoped that all signs of his injuries would be gone before he encountered his brothers again, knowing that they would be instantly swarming around him asking if he was alright, even if the wounds were not life threatening.

 

Aragorn sighed heavily. Thoughts of his brothers reminded him of the fact that even though the Mirkwood palace was extravagant, complete with comfortable, spacious, and well furnished rooms, savory food, and amiable company, it was not quite like home, and he knew this was the reason that he could not sleep.  He let out another deep sigh.  He had been placed in the guest quarters next to Legolas’ room, but this did nothing to make sleep come any faster.

 

The room itself was large, complete with high ceilings and a large window which opened out onto the roof.  Aragorn’s bed was also good sized, but it was bigger than the bed he had in Rivendell and he felt almost as though the sheets would swallow him up at any moment.  He did not know how long he had been awake, but the moon was up high in the darkened sky and had been for quite some time, so he assumed that it was at least the middle of the night.

 

This is the first real bed you have been in for several years, Aragorn thought to himself, and now you cannot sleep!  If Elladan and Elrohir were here, they would be teasing you about the dark, and the monsters that live under the bed.

 

The human shook his head in slight amusement.  There he was thinking about his family again, even though it was true.  When he was younger, he was afraid of the dark, and it was hard for him to fall asleep unless either Elladan or Elrohir were there.  He had claimed that monsters lived under the bed, and would quickly eat him as soon as he was alone.  His brothers never missed the opportunity to poke fun at him, and knew without a doubt that if they were here at this exact moment, they would be teasing him mercilessly about his childhood fears.

 

Yet Aragorn knew that these fears were in no way related to the fact that he was unable to sleep tonight.  He would never feel at home in Mirkwood, no matter how many times he visited the woodland realm.  It simply was not the same.  There was just something about it that made the young ranger a bit uncomfortable, and that something had a bit to do with the spiders that haunted the trees of the forest.  He had never been fond of the arachnids.  The events that had taken place only a handful of hours prior did nothing to mitigate his feelings either.

 

Legolas had never told him about his brother, and to the best of Aragorn’s knowledge, he did not have any siblings.  Now, however, he knew these thoughts to be false, and he understood why the prince had never spoken to him about Vandaril.  It had not been until this very evening, in fact, that Aragorn had learnt more of the story about Legolas’ wayward brother. 

 

They were not twins, even though they shared striking similarities in their heights, bone structures, and frames, and it was because of these features that it was at times difficult to tell them apart from a distance.  Vandaril, however, was slightly older than Legolas, and he was bolder and more obstinate as well, possessing a quick temper that could be ignited by the smallest spark.  All these factors together contributed to his fate in the end, and to the one incident that would lead him on the path to his demise.

 

Aragorn found himself shuddering.  It was really a ghastly tale, and ‘it’ had happened on a winter solstice celebration when Vandaril and Legolas were young Elflings, and definitely far too young to stay up the whole night for the festivities.  Lord Thranduil had confined them to their bedrooms for the evening, and had told them that they were not yet old enough to partake in the evening merriment.  Legolas had been perfectly satisfied with this arrangement, but in Vandaril’s mind’s eye, he was most certainly not too young, and he was determined to evade his father’s “quarantine,” as he had called it.  If he could not be in it, he was going to at least watch it, no matter what anyone said.

 

With this mindset, young Vandaril had proceed to push open his bedroom window, walk out onto the roof, and climb precariously out on the branches of the nearest tree.  There was a blazing bonfire right below said tree, and the flames leaped far too close to its boughs for Legolas’ liking.  He persuaded his brother to come down, that it was too dangerous, but to no avail.  Then, the inevitable did happen, and Vandaril slipped on the tree limb and did indeed come down—only to land in the midst of the fire, screaming with pain and terror.

 

He was saved, but not quite in time, and the healers had not been fully able to alleviate the burns, and as a result, nasty scars adorned half of his face, hands, back, and legs.  He was never the same since, and resorted to evil doings which mostly involved the torture of his brother Legolas.  He was soon banished from the forests of Mirkwood and held a deep, bitter resentment toward the elves that dwelled there until the very hour in which he died.

 

The ranger rolled over onto his stomach to stare out the window, realizing that these thoughts would lead him no closer to sleep than he was.  They certainly made him never want to openly disobey his father again, even though he, nor the twins, had ever gotten into that sort of trouble.  That was mischief of a different, more dangerous caliber.

 

Aragorn moaned softly, wishing the serene beauty of the night would just lull him to sleep.  What the human really wanted was to be in with Legolas, but he had been too embarrassed to ask Lord Thranduil for that arrangement.  He would probably have gone into the prince’s room already when no one was looking, if it were not for the guards that Thranduil had posted outside their doors.

 

“The palace will be a safer place this way,” the king had informed, mouth turning upwards into a slight smile.  “I have seen the effects that you, ranger, have had on my son, and I do not like them.  You are a bad influence.”

 

“Oh, Ada,” Legolas had argued lightly with knowledge from personal experience, “the twins are much, much worse.”

 

“Aye, and I see the effects that these genes have infringed upon him—unmistakable,” Thranduil answered knowingly.  “I do it for the protection of those who reside here, and I am sure you understand.”

 

“I have not known your son for very long,” Aragorn had tried to reason.

 

Thranduil nodded.  “Yes, that may be so, but when Legolas brought you here you were half dead.  I was not blessed with the gift of foresight quite as that of the Lord Elrond’s, but I consider that to be my vision which tells of things much worse still to come.  No.  I am allocating guards to your rooms, and that is final.”

 

Aragorn could not resist a smile—the twins would delight in the fact that their notorious reputation was affecting him in this way.   They could not aid him now, however, and the human knew that there would be nothing he could do to slip past the guards.  Living with elves had taught him to have a quieter step and shown him the art of fading in and out of one’s surroundings, but he was still a human.  He could not evade the senses of the elves, for his skills were not that well honed.  So the door was out.  He would have to think of another way.

 

And then, the idea struck him, and Aragorn wondered why the thought had not occurred to him before.  The window—he would go through the window, and get to Legolas’ room from the roof.  At least he was not attempting to climb trees with burning fires beneath them, and he technically he was not even disobeying any orders since Thranduil never specifically stated that the prince’s room was in fact off limits.

 

~*~*~

 

Sleep was no nearer to finding Legolas than it had been to Aragorn, but his reasons were entirely different from the ranger’s.  Mirkwood was the elf’s home after all, and he did not feel the slightest big uncomfortable in it.  So that was not a bother to him.  It was mainly the images of his brother and the spiders that were invading Legolas’ mind, and blocking sleep from coming to him.

 

He shook his head and closed his eyes in an attempt to drive them out, but he still could not shake off the feeling that a giant spider was about to crawl into his room and engulf him.

 

Stop these foolish notions, the prince lightly chided himself.  The spiders would never do that, it is not their way—they were only acting funny because Vandaril had some sort of enchantment on them.  He had always been slightly fond of those critters.

 

Legolas shuddered at this thought, although in truth his brother’s death had saddened him.  If only…

 

If only nothing, he muttered to himself.  He is probably happier in the Halls of Mandos anyway.

 

The prince sighed heavily and was about to attempt sleep once more when a noise from outside his room caught his attention.  He tensed slightly and turned to stare intently out his bedroom window for telltale signs of the invader, since he could have sworn that the sounds had come from the outside.  When he found none, he let himself relax.

 

Stop this paranoia, his mind chastised softly, and go.  To.  Sleep!

 

He was just about to when he thought he heard a light tap, and then, “Legolas?”

 

The voice sounded familiar, or maybe there had been no voice at all and it had been only a figment of his imagination.  Who would be disturbing him at this hour anyway?

 

“Legolas?”

 

No, there it was again, more urgent and desperate.  Legolas grumbled something incoherent under his breath.  That had sounded uncannily like Aragorn, but he was in bed, right?  And what would he be doing outside his window?

 

“Legolas!”

 

That was not a question, and as the prince turned to look, at last fed up with the disturbance, he saw a shadow outlined on his wall and then the indeed the form of Aragorn crouched on the roof near his window.

 

“Elbereth!” the prince breathed as he felt himself jumping out of his skin, his heart beating fiercely in his chest.  That had been quite a scare, and he hoped that the human had not been able to catch the look that had been on his face.

 

But he got up, went to the window, and pushed it open dragging Aragorn inside, who landed in a heap on the floor.  He grinned up at the elf.

 

“Are you not happy to see me?”

 

“Delighted,” Legolas muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.  “What in Middle Earth were you doing on the roof?  And in front of my window?”

 

“I could not sleep,” Aragorn confessed as he got up from his place on the floor, “and your father posted guards by the doors, so I could not go out the normal way for fear of looking suspicious.”

 

“Oh, right,” the prince muttered, now totally annoyed with himself for showing his surprise that easily, “and if anyone saw a human on top of the palace roof, they would think nothing was wrong with that.”

 

The human chuckled lightly and shifted from foot to foot as he asked, “But I really could not sleep, and I…I was wondering if I could sleep in with you.”

 

“In my bed?” Legolas asked, although he now was grinning too.  “Whatever for?  Getting nightmares again, mellonamin?” he joked.

 

“If it is not too much trouble…” Aragorn started, feeling slightly sheepish, and not really wanting to tell Legolas the real reason.  “It is just that…well…Mirkwood is not…”

 

“The same as Rivendell,” the elf finished with a mock sigh of exasperation, smiling even wider at the human’s look of surprise.  “Aye, I know, and do not worry my friend, it is alright.  Just no funny business under the bed now.”

 

“Legolas!”  Aragorn laughed, “I think you should know me better than that.”

 

The prince looked slyly at him.  “Do I now?”

 

The ranger chuckled as he followed Legolas to his bed and they both got in under the covers.  They were silent for a bit, and in this break of the conversation, a tentative voice called in, “Prince Legolas?  Is everything alright in there?”

 

It was Ilfirin, the guard outside.  Legolas and Aragorn both did their best to hide their snickering as the prince returned, “Yes, do not worry, Ilfirin, everything is just fine.  You are permitted to go on back to sleep now.”

 

Ilfirin laughed slightly.  “Whatever you command, my prince.”

 

Aragorn grinned.  “All that extra work for nothing…”

 

Legolas gave him a look.  “You know you cannot pass by elven guards, even when they are sleeping.”

 

“Can too.”

 

“Cannot.”

 

“Can too.”

 

“Cannot!”

 

The ranger made a face at the elf as they burst out laughing at their childish behavior.  They both sighed then and rolled over so that they were turned away from each other.  Legolas was just about to drift off to sleep when a quiet voice called his name.

 

“Legolas?”

 

The elf groaned.  “What is it this time?  Can you not see that I am actually trying to sleep now?”

 

“Oh, nothing…I just thought that I would mention that ‘tis a rare thing to catch an elf unawares…”

 

 “Shut your mouth, cocky human,” Legolas grumbled irately.

 

“Prissy elf,” the ranger retorted, although he was smiling and was glad he was facing away from his friend so that it could not be seen.

 

Then it was silent for a bit until…

 

“Legolas?”

 

“Oh, can you not leave me in peace?” the prince muttered darkly, wishing that he had never opened the window to let the human in but had instead pushed him forcefully off the roof.

 

“That could be used as some excellent blackmail for later, could it not?”

 

The ranger barely caught the pillow that came aimed for his face.

 

~*~*~

 

Lord Thranduil,

 

I have been waiting patiently for this time, and now I think it has come at long last.  It seems as though we have renewed our friendship, and I wish for that to stay strong forever now that we have rekindled the burnt spark that used to exist between us.  To do so, I deem it important for our two kingdoms to be somehow joined, and in my eye there could be no better way.  I have a beautiful daughter, and you have a handsome son.  Let us bring my Arwen and your Legolas together, so that in doing so our kingdoms will also be brought together.  I have sent for Arwen from Lothlorien, and I now ask that you allow Legolas to make the journey to Imladris so that they may meet.  No response is needed for this letter unless you do not consent to this arrangement.  If I do have your acquiescence, I will be expecting Legolas’ arrival at the gates of Imladris in roughly two weeks time.  May the stars shine upon a bright future for our children and our kingdoms.

 

 Yours,

Lord Elrond

 

Thranduil sighed as he looked over the letter for the third time.  It was morning now, and he was sitting in a dark green chair at his study table.  The messenger had just arrived the night before, and he had been unable to notify Legolas of the information then.  To be prompt in his response, he would have to send out his son today.  He hated to see him go, but he knew that this plan was probably for the best—even he had to admit that he had been waiting for this a long while.  Legolas and Arwen…he could think of no more perfect mate for his son than the Evenstar, lovely in all aspects.  Then why did he feel a sense of foreboding, a feeling that perhaps this would not quite work out?

 

No.  He dispelled these thoughts.  He wanted this to work, for it was time that their kingdoms be connected by a stronger bond, and the king could think of no better way to do this than through their children.  He would send his son out this morning after breakfast, and the ranger had not seen his home for quite some time, so perhaps he would want to travel with the prince as company.

 

Although that might not be such a good idea…

 

The king chuckled slightly, even though he was not really worried about this.  Once out of Mirkwood’s borders, they were out of his hands—and any mischief that might befall them was not his problem.  He trusted them to get out of it, at any rate.

 

“Ada?”

 

The voice drew him from his thoughts, and as he looked up from the note he saw Legolas and the ranger standing in his doorway.  Aragorn still looked half asleep and was leaning slightly on the elf, but the king knew he would be all right in due time.

 

Thranduil smiled at his son.

 

“The Lord Elrond requests your presence in Imladris at once, my son,” he told him.

 

“Imladris?  Why there?” Legolas asked, confused.

 

“Business,” Thranduil answered, deciding to disclose the exact reason from his son at this time, and thinking it better that this be kept a surprise.  “You are to leave immediately.”

 

“Immediately?” the prince asked, not sure if he was ready for another adventure.

 

“After breakfast,” the king finished with a smile as Legolas sighed with relief.

 

Aragorn touched Legolas’ shoulder gently.  “I must go on home too, mellonamin, to meet the rangers.  We can travel together.”

 

“I have thought of that, and I do not know if it is good or bad, but I suppose it is necessary,” Thranduil answered with a resigned air.  “I trust you both slept well?”

 

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a knowing look and a grin, and Thranduil decided that he did not want to know what that was about.  He had heard nothing from the guards, and he quickly reasoned that that was all the information he really needed, and wanted.

 

The king managed a small smile in return, and invited, “Come let us eat breakfast.  You have quite a journey ahead of you.”

 

~*~*~

 

All too soon the morning meal ended, and Legolas and Aragorn found themselves upon two horses that had been prepared for them by the stable hands, with Thranduil on the steps to the palace to see them off.

 

“Look after each other,” he called.  “I hope to see you home in one piece, my son.”

 

Legolas smiled at his father.  “I will do my best, although with this one with me—” he broke off to punch Aragorn lightly in the arm, “there is no telling what will happen.”

 

Aragorn rolled his eyes.  “As if all the trouble is my doing.”

 

Legolas was about to open his mouth to speak when Thranduil intervened sternly, “If you, ranger, come back to my borders in any shape or form again, I will not think twice but throw you immediately into the dungeons to spare my kingdom anymore trouble.  You have been too often in these borders, and I can already see the effects on my son.”

 

Aragorn grinned in response.  “Do not worry, Lord Thranduil, I would not want to impose any hardship upon your kingdom.  I will do my best to watch myself…and your son.”

 

Legolas glared at him.  “Like I need the watching.  You were the one I dragged here practically dead those seven years ago…”

 

“Yes, thank you, I do not need you to remind me,” the human answered, darkly.

 

“If you keep this up you will never get out of here,” Thranduil reminded them, smiling slightly.  “I look forward to your return, my son, and I hope it is a safe one.”

 

“On the road again…” Aragorn murmured as they their horses trotted down the path into the Mirkwood forests.

 

“Yes, and let us try to really stay on it,” Legolas muttered.

 

“No guarantees on that one, my friend,” the ranger returned grinning.  “Trouble has a habit of finding us.”

 

“Not us,” the prince corrected.  “You.”

 

Aragorn only smiled slyly.  “We shall see.  I have not traveled much with you to see if you are as attracted to mischief as I am.”

 

“All in good time,” Legolas grumbled.

 

“Aye,” the human returned, “all in good time.”

 

As they road off into the woods, the sun shone brightly down upon them, as if to say that they had nothing to fear.  The pair certainly hoped that this would hold true, but there were no guarantees, and only time would tell what the future would bring.

 

THE END

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