Title: The Wrong Path

Author: White Wolf

Genre: Angst/Action/Adventure

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: Pre-FOTR

Summary: After apparently taking a wrong turn in a mysterious forest, something happens to Legolas. Aragorn doesn't know what's wrong or what to do, so he takes the elf to his father in Rivendell, however Elrond has no answers either.

Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own anything J.R.R. Tolkien created. I couldn't compete with him even if I was silly enough to try. All I can do is borrow some of his creations and write my own pale imitations. I'm certainly not making any money from this offering. It's just entertainment (hopefully).

Chapter One

Elrohir, youngest elven son of Elrond, the Lord of Imladris, stood at the window of one of the libraries in his family’s home. From this window, the elf could see the courtyard. His mind was on nothing in particular, when he saw two horses on the far horizon. He squinted, trying to make out who might be approaching Rivendell. When the horses got a bit closer, his elven eyes made out the fact that one horse was dark and the other was gray.

The elf smiled. Estel and Legolas were finally returning and only four days late. That had to be some kind of record. He continued to smile and watch as the horses got closer still, moving at a fairly quick pace. He then noticed something that wiped the smile from his face. It was replaced with a frown of concern. There was only one rider. There was no one sitting on the horse that followed. Elrohir was just about to turn away, when he realized that the gray horse carried two riders, not one. He stood and stared a moment longer to confirm that fact.

Elrohir quickly crossed the carpeted library and ran out into the hall, yelling for his father. His heart was racing. Had he stopped to look, he would have seen his hands shaking. His long black hair flew out behind him as he raced down the corridor.

Elrond and his eldest son, Elladan, were in the elf Lord’s private study, going over a new book of healing that Elrond had just acquired from the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien. They were deep in research and discussion, when they heard the shouting. They both looked at the door simultaneously and then at each other. A look of foreboding passed between father and son. Elrohir’s shouts were bordering on panic.

Elrohir was running past the study door, still yelling, when Elrond and Elladan hurried out into the corridor. “Elrohir,” Elrond called out in a stern tone. “What is all the shouting about?” Were they under attack?

“Ada, Elladan, they are back, but...” his previously excited voice trailed off into silence. The look in his eyes made his father and twin brother cringe. It was not the first time they had seen that look. They knew what it meant; something was terribly wrong with either Estel or Legolas.

Elrond knew he didn’t want to hear what his son might say, but, he had to hear it, so the elven Lord squared his shoulders and asked, “Which one?” He knew Elrohir understood perfectly well his meaning.

Sadness had overtaken panic for the moment, and Elrohir’s breathing was a bit rapid. It was then that he did notice his shaking hands. He put them down and pressed his palms tightly against his thighs, but it didn’t help much.

“They are both on Legolas's horse,” Elrohir said at last. It’s all he could manage to say.

“Then, it is Estel,” Elrond breathed. “Come. We must hurry. He will likely need immediate attention.” He started off down the hall toward the courtyard, his blue silk robes swishing, and his twin sons in his wake.

All three elves were standing at the foot of the steps that led from the courtyard into The Last Homely House. All three were staring toward the open gate and the small section of road leading to it that was visible from where they stood.

Elven eyes went wide in surprise, as the first horse came in to view. It was Legolas sitting in front, not Estel. The human had his left arm securely around the elf, whose head was hanging forward and swaying slightly with the motion of the horse.

Elrond let out a sigh of relief that his foster son was apparently not injured or ill. However, his heart clenched to know that Legolas was clearly in dire need of attention. *Just once, why could they not both return whole and healthy?* he thought.

After Aragorn pulled his horse to a stop, Elrond stepped forward. He shuddered to see the limp body of the elf and the haggard look on his son‘s face. Aragorn looked exhausted. “Let Elladan take Legolas,” Elrond instructed gently.

Aragorn shook his head. He slid from the saddle and pulled Legolas down into his arms and began to carry him up the steps. He said not a word nor was he in the kind of rush that usually accompanied the two friends’ return from one of their adventures. This fact alone did not bode well.

The three elves left behind all looked at each other. “Estel?” Elrohir called after his foster brother. Then, he looked at his father, “What has happened?” he asked, though he knew Elrond didn’t know any more than he did. With a look of horror, Elrohir suddenly started shaking his head rapidly. “No. No. Tell me Legolas is not dead.” There was a stricken look on the younger twin’s face.

“I do not think so. Estel looked grim but not grief-stricken,” Elladan said, trying to convince himself as much as his brother. There had been no sign of tears. Elladan only hoped he had analyzed the situation correctly. He spun on his heel and began to run after his human brother.

When Aragorn turned down the corridor to the left, Elladan, who had just caught up, asked him, “Why are you going this way? The House of Healing is that way.” He was pointing to the right.

With a flat voice, Aragorn said, “He isn’t wounded.”

Chapter Two

Aragorn continued down the corridor with his best friend in his arms. He mounted two more flights of stairs toward the family’s private wing of the house. His father and brothers were keeping pace behind him. They each knew they would all have to wait until Estel was ready to talk to them before they would get any answers from him.

When Aragorn reached the room Legolas always stayed in while in Rivendell, Elrohir rushed ahead and pushed down on the gold handle of the large oak door, which swung open on silent hinges. He then ran across the room to the glass doors that led to the balcony on his right. He grasped the hunter green velvet curtains and pulled them aside, flooding the room with bright sunlight.

The elf then pushed on the balcony doors, opening them until they lay back against the wall on either side. Legolas couldn’t stand being closed in even by curtains and clear glass doors. He was only comfortable when he could not only see the sky, but listen to the trees and feel the breezes as they blew into his room. Thus, both curtains and doors were only closed when the elf prince was not in residence.

There was a light breeze blowing inward just now, and the room was soon filled with the fresh scents of Spring.

Meanwhile, Aragorn lay Legolas on top of the bedspread, whose leaf-pattern was the same color as the curtains and the carpet. The room had been decorated with the leaf pattern and dark green color especially for the woodland elf.

Aragorn carefully made sure the elf’s legs were straight, and then with his hands behind Legolas's head, he gently lowered it to the fluffy feather pillow that rested at the base of the ornate wooden headboard.

Elrond noted with trepidation that Legolas hadn't made even the slightest movement nor did any sound escape his lips. He was totally limp and unresponsive. Elrond moved up beside Aragorn and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

It was then that Aragorn turned the saddest expression a human is capable of making toward his father. With the shake of his head he repeated the words he had said to Elladan just moments before. "He isn't wounded."

Elrond had already noted in a quick visual inspection that there was no blood on the archer. Nor was there any other mark that he could see without a thorough examination. Aragorn was also a healer and would have checked Legolas before bringing him home. He would know if a wound was present. Elrond trusted both his foster son’s skills and his judgment.

Very softly, he asked, "What ails him?"

"That's just it, Ada. I don't know," Aragorn said helplessly. With that he turned toward the bed and removed Legolas's belt. Then, he began to undo the elf’s outer tunic. There was a gentleness in his movements, but at the same time, he seemed to move almost too deliberately. It was painfully obvious that he was working very hard to keep a tight rein on his emotions. One crack and they would all come flooding out. He couldn't afford that indulgence right now. His best friend needed him.

Elrohir pulled Legolas's soft suede boots off and set them together on the floor at the foot of the bed. Then, he stood silently and watched his two brothers undress their friend.

Elladan had crossed to the far side of the bed, with his back to the balcony and was helping Aragorn pull Legolas into a sitting position. Together they removed his tunic. Elladan had to put one hand under Legolas's chin and grip it firmly to keep his head steady. They then pulled his leggings off, leaving him wearing only his long silk shirt. Aragorn lifted the elf up while his oldest brother pulled the bedding back. When Legolas was lowered back down, the covers were pulled up to his chest. Aragorn pulled Legolas's arms from under the cover and crossed them gently over the elf's stomach.

Aragorn still held onto one of the archer's hands as he sat down on the side of the bed and leaned forward. "I'm sorry, mellon nin. I'm so sorry." There was both infinite sadness and a large measure of guilt in those words.

Elrond picked up on the guilt he heard but decided that now was not the time to discuss it. He would have to ask about that later. "Estel, let me look at him. Perhaps, I can find what the trouble is."

Aragorn didn't move or say a word at first. He just stared at Legolas's face. Then, he slowly nodded his assent and stood up. He knew if anyone could help Legolas, Elrond could, though he had the deep-seated feeling that even the power of the elf Lord would do no good in this case. It had nothing to do with his father’s abilities, it was.... He didn’t know what, and it was that lack of knowing that scared him as much as anything else.

After half an hour, Elrond had made a thorough examination of every inch of the elf’s body. He even undid Legolas's braids and examined his entire scalp. Finally, Elrond stood up and faced his three sons. "I know not what is causing this." There was a note of apology in his voice and a look of heartbreak on his ageless face.

Aragorn sat back down on the bed, gripping the elf’s hand once more, and then he closed his eyes. Those words from his father confirmed his own feelings of despair. All along he had the feeling that there was something evil involved that was behind what was wrong with his friend. If his father couldn’t find a physical reason, then Aragorn was terribly afraid he was right. But, he wasn’t ready to speak of that just yet.

Aragorn was pulled out of his thoughts, when Elrond said, “I will find out.” The elf Lord’s firm voice reflected his attempt to be as reassuring as he could. It was far too early to give up hope. To continue, though, he needed details.

“What can you tell me about what happened? Was he attacked by someone or something?” That seemed the most logical place to start.

“I can’t answer any of your questions,” Aragorn said somewhat harshly. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ada. I’m just so worried.” He kept to himself that he was also so tired he could hardly move. That fact, he knew, they were all very aware of. An elf was much better at hiding weariness and much better at detecting it in others than any human. The look of concern in his father’s eyes was also for him, as well as Legolas.

He looked up at Elrond. “I have no idea what happened. We were setting up camp for the night. Legolas tended the horses, as usual, and went off to hunt for dinner while I set up the camp. When he didn’t come back in a reasonable length of time, I went looking for him. I found him lying in the grass just as you see him now. I couldn’t rouse him, but I couldn’t find anything wrong, either.” He laughed bitterly and waved his hand toward Legolas. “Unless you consider this condition as being nothing wrong.” More softly he said. “There’s no physical clue as to why he’s like this. You saw that for yourself.”

The tears that Aragorn had been holding back threatened to spill out, but he managed, with a great deal of effort, to keep them from falling. “What can we do, Ada? How can we help him, if we don’t even know what’s wrong with him?”

Elladan wanted to know the answer to those questions himself. He came around to the side of the bed where his foster brother sat. He steeled himself for the argument he was sure was coming. “Estel, Legolas is safe. He is in no immediate danger. You need to get some sleep before you collapse.”

“I have to stay with him.” Aragorn whispered tiredly.

“ Not if it means you make yourself sick,” Elladan replied firmly. “I promise that Elrohir and I will not leave this room until you wake and return here. I am sure Ada will be hard at work, looking for answers, in his books of healing.” He took Estel’s free hand. “Please, for all our sakes, if not your own, get some rest.” He looked toward Legolas. “He will need your strength later.”

Everyone was surprised when Aragorn nodded. It was proof that he was too exhausted to argue. Aragorn reluctantly let go of Legolas's hand, as Elrond took him by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. He gave a small smile of encouragement to his weary son.

Aragorn gave his brothers as stern a look as he could muster. “Promise me you’ll come get me, if there’s any change, no matter how small.”

“We promise,” Elrohir said, nodding.

Elrond had his arm around Aragorn as he guided his son from the room. The intricately carved door closed softly behind them.

Elladan looked out of the open balcony doorway and noted it was about mid-afternoon. He pulled one of the two chairs in the room up next to the bed, and a moment later Elrohir did the same.

They sat down to wait.

Chapter Three

Aragorn woke up groggier than usual. He opened bleary eyes and looked around him. It took a few seconds for him to recognize that he was in his own bed, in his own room, which he felt sure was in his own home. It was hard to be positive, though. His mind was acting like a thick fog was swirling through it.

The ranger sat up, a move that took a great deal of effort. He quickly lowered his head into both of his hands. He hadn’t felt this out of it since he had overindulged with some questionable wine that time he and Legolas were...

At the thought of the Mirkwood prince, Aragorn cried out, “Legolas!” All the memories of what had happened to his friend came crashing in and almost swamped the tenuous grasp on the senses that he clung to. He wanted to believe that it had all been a horrible nightmare, but he knew it was all too real.

It took him mere seconds to get to his feet and slide into a pair of soft slippers that sat just under the edge of his bed. He grabbed a long, cream-colored robe from the back of a chair near the door. While doing so, he took note that the sun was just now rising, as it peeked over the far garden wall. He was dismayed to realize that he had slept the entire night, not to mention the better part of yesterday afternoon. He sprinted down the corridor to Legolas's room, managing to get into his robe as he ran.

Aragorn burst into the room and rushed over to the bed. Legolas was lying as still and quiet as the ranger had left him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He was so hoping that he would be greeted by an alert, smiling elven prince, who would chide him for sleeping so long. The ranger dropped down dejectedly onto the bed in the same spot he had occupied earlier.

It was only after satisfying himself that the archer was still breathing and had no fever that he allowed his own breathing to slow to a normal rhythm.

Looking up, he noticed that the two brocade-covered chairs by the bed were empty. “Empty?” Aragorn exploded. Distraught and shaking, he said aloud, “They promised they wouldn’t leave him!”

“Nor did we,” came a very familiar voice from across the room.

Aragorn spun his head around and found himself staring into the face of Elladan, standing in the balcony doorway. The dark-haired elf had his arms folded over his chest. Aragorn saw his brother’s stern expression.

“We do not break promises, Estel,” Elrohir said from behind him, speaking a bit more harshly than he intended. He walked around the bed and sat down in one of the plush chairs, placing a large leather-bound book in his lap.

It was immediately obvious to Aragorn that, considering the direction Elrohir had just come from, he had been getting the book from the set of shelves behind the door and hadn‘t been seen when the ranger burst in. “I’m sorry,” Aragorn said contritely. “I didn’t mean to accuse either of you. I’ve evidently been sleeping rather hard for hours, and I‘m a bit groggy and...” He paused, then admitted, “No excuses. Forgive me.”

After exchanging glances with his twin, Elladan said, “You are forgiven.”

“We never could stay upset with you for very long, Estel. You know that,” Elrohir commented. He had a small smile on his face.

Elladan said, “And by the way, Estel, you have been asleep for almost two days.” He grimaced, preparing for the inevitable explosion.

“Two days!” Aragorn wailed. “Are you telling me that I went to sleep the day before yesterday?” When a nod from Elladan confirmed it, Aragorn’s eyes narrowed in anger.

“You were almost out on your feet, when you arrived. You obviously needed it, or you would not have slept that long.” Elladan said logically in a calm voice.

“I told you...”

“You told us to come get you, if there was any change,” Elladan interrupted in the same calm tone. “There has not been.” The elf walked over and stood beside his younger twin, resting one hand on the high back of the chair Elrohir sat in. He looked down at Legolas. “Sadly, there has been no change at all in his condition. He is still the same.”

“Ada has been here several times to check on him,” Elrohir added. “And, when he has not been here, he has been holed up in his study, searching through his books of healing.”

“But, he’s found nothing to help Legolas, has he?” Aragorn asked dejectedly, already knowing the answer. He almost said he could have told them that would probably be the case. He was now convinced more than ever that some kind of evil had befallen the elven prince. But what and from where, he had no clue. And, if he was right, he also had no clue as to whether Legolas was the intended victim or was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up paying the price for it.

Aragorn looked at his twin brothers. It was then he noticed that Legolas's unstrung bow was propped up in the corner of the room next to the bookshelves. He looked around the room and spotted the archer’s quiver of arrows and his twin long knives lying on a table next to the wardrobe.

Elladan realized what Aragorn was looking at, so he explained. “One of the stable boys removed them from Legolas's horse after the two of you came home, and he gave them to Glorfindel, who brought them up here. Yours are in your room.”

Aragorn nodded. He had to admit he hadn’t given any of the weapons a thought since arriving, although he did seem to remember Elrond taking the ranger’s sword belt off of him just before he collapsed into bed.

“Have you eaten?” Elrohir asked, sure that his human brother had come straight in here from waking. He had no idea how long before Estel had arrived that he had eaten. It was most likely days.

Aragorn shook his head. Emotionally, he didn‘t care to eat anything, but his body was telling him quite the opposite. He felt sure that if he even attempted to say he wanted nothing, both of his brothers would hold him down and force him to eat. “Just something light. Fruit, maybe, and honey tea. And cheese. And some bread and maybe a few sausages.” He looked toward Legolas. “And a piece of Lembas.”

Elrohir looked at his foster brother; the solemn atmosphere that permeated the room and the reason for it being the only things keeping him from laughing out loud. He couldn‘t, however, keep a bit of humor out of his voice. “Just something light he says.”

“I noticed,” Elladan agreed.

Coming to an unspoken agreement, both twins quietly left the room, making not a sound, as was the way with the Firstborn. The ranger’s attention had gone back to the unconscious elf in the bed, so they were sure Estel hadn’t even taken notice of their departure.

Aragorn sat alone with Legolas, whose seemingly lifeless body tore at the ranger’s heart. “Please, open your eyes, mellon nin. Please.” He squeezed the elf’s hand. “We need you back with us. I need you back.”

*This was all my fault. If only I had...*

Aragorn shook his head, banishing that silent thought. It would do no good to dwell on his guilt now. It wouldn’t help Legolas in the slightest, and at this point in time, that was his all-consuming concern. “I’ll make it up to you, Legolas. I promise. Even if it takes me the rest of my life.”

After Aragorn finished the breakfast that Elrohir had brought to him, he looked down at his elven friend. “It's time for me to take care of you.” *That’s all I can do for you right now.*

He set the food tray on the table near the bed. Elrohir had brought him everything he had requested, and Estel’s starving body had not let him stop until he had eaten every bit of it. Only the Lembas was left. He had plans for that.

Aragorn broke off a small piece of the elvish waybread and set it down into a small bowl. Then, he picked up the cup he had left some of the tea in, and he carefully poured it on top of the Lembas in the bowl. He set it aside to let the waybread soak.

In the meantime, he went to Legolas's dresser and got out a clean nightshirt and took it into the washroom. He gathered two large towels, soap and a wash cloth and put them on the stand beside the polished wooden tub.

When that was done, he went back into the bedroom. Pulling the covers back, he lifted Legolas into a sitting position and slid in behind him, pulling the elf back against his chest. He picked up the bowl and, stretching his arms out in front of the elf, took a spoon and began mashing the waybread up with the tea until it became the consistency of a slightly thick broth.

Aragorn took a deep breath. “This isn’t going to be easy for either of us, my friend, but you have to get nourishment into you somehow.” The ranger took the spoon, got a little of the mixture into it, and, holding Legolas's head back, he opened his mouth and poured the mixture from the spoon into it. He began to massage the elf’s throat to try and bring about a reflexive swallowing motion.

Nothing happened at first, but then the elf began to swallow. He had a small coughing fit at first, until with subsequent tries, Aragorn lessened the amount of the mixture he put in the spoon.

When Elrohir came to get the food tray, he was very pleased to see what Estel was doing. Then, the ranger explained about the bath, so the elf personally hauled buckets of steaming water into the washroom and filled the tub, confident the water would cool down enough before Aragorn needed it.

Elrohir volunteered to help, but Estel said he would handle everything by himself. The elf didn’t argue with him, knowing it was something that Estel felt he needed to do. Elrohir left the room.

It took a while, but eventually Aragorn got all the Lembas and tea into Legolas. He followed that up with a small amount of plain water from a nearby pitcher.

Aragorn sighed deeply with satisfaction. He knew the accomplishment was a big victory, because now he knew the archer would not starve.

During the remainder of the morning, Aragorn bathed Legolas, changed his nightshirt, washed, dried and brushed his hair and put him back into a bed that had been fitted with fresh, clean bed linen while the bath bad been in progress.

Aragorn once again sat down by his friend’s side. And, as he sat, he looked out through the balcony doors. The sun was shining brightly, bathing everything in its golden glow. He could hear the birds chirping merrily outside in the trees, as the branches swayed gently in the warm spring breeze.

With another deep sigh, the ranger thought to himself that Legolas shouldn’t be in here confined to this bed. He should be out in the sunshine and the open air. That’s where the woodland elf belonged.

It was then that Aragorn hit upon an idea.

He got up, and with a bit of effort, moved both chairs out onto the balcony, each half facing the other. Then, he went and picked Legolas up and set him in the chair that would allow him to fully face the sun. He put the feather pillow behind the elf's shoulders and titled his head back so it turned up to the sun. Aragorn draped a light blanket over his friend's bare legs and feet and rested his hands in his lap.

Aragorn sat down heavily in the other chair, letting his arms hang down beside the arms of the chair. Being a mortal, he couldn't converse with the trees, but he fervently hoped they would hear his plea. "Please, send your strength to Legolas. Renew his spirit, so he can come back to us---and to you."

A single tear made its way down his cheek.

Chapter Four

It had been back on the fourth day after Estel’s and Legolas's return that Elrond had mentioned contacting King Thranduil and telling him of Legolas's condition. Aragorn, despite understanding the right the elf king had to know about his son, had argued vehemently against it. He had insisted that Thranduil would either come himself or send one of his other sons to get Legolas and take him back to Mirkwood. There were no healers in the woodland realm, who had anywhere near the healing ability that Elrond possessed. Aragorn had argued all this, despite the fact the elf lord hadn’t as yet been able to do anything for the prince. The ranger had gotten so upset that Elrond had relented---for the time being, at least.

He and the woodland king were already less than friendly. They had clashed more than a few times in the past. So, having to face Thranduil’s fury, when he finally did learn of all this, would hardly be a new experience. Still, it was not something Elrond was looking forward to. As always, however, he could well hold his own.

~*~*~

Aragorn's life became strictly regimented, something of his own devising. Every morning, he got up and went immediately to Legolas's room, relieving whomever it was that had stayed the night. It was usually one of the twins, but Elrond also stayed occasionally, as did Glorfindel.

The ranger would feed Legolas, bathe him, wash and brush his hair, and change his nightshirt. He would then lay the elf out straight on top of the bed and carefully massage his muscles back and front to keep them firm. It didn't replace normal activity, but it would help keep them from wasting away---for a time anyway. Next Aragorn would put the elven prince into the chair out on the balcony in the sun. It was only then that he would eat his own breakfast.

The ranger would sit in the other chair and talk to Legolas, as if the elf was capable of listening, which was something Aragorn had wondered about. In fact, he had even asked Erond if it was possible that deep down Legolas could hear and understand everything that was done and said around him. Elrond didn't know, but told his son it couldn't hurt to talk to Legolas, in hopes something he said or the sound of his voice might get through to him.

These same tasks were performed day after day, one following the next with no deviation until they became like a ritual. There was no light or dark in the ranger’s life as it existed now, only a dull shade of gray. He sometimes despaired, and he sometimes cried, but in his heart, he never gave up hope. And, he never resented what he did for the elf. Legolas was his best friend in the entire world, and his heart was too full of love, loyalty---and guilt---to ever allow that to happen.

Legolas, however, remained unresponsive, and Aragorn remained determined to bring his friend back from wherever his spirit had fled to. For that is exactly what the ranger came to believe. There was no evidence of a physical reason for the elf’s continued unconsciousness, so Aragorn became more convinced, as the days advanced and he had much time to think on it, that some truly horrible evil had befallen the elven prince. He could see no other reason for his courageous and stubborn friend’s spirit to retreat. Whatever had caused this had somehow driven the elf to seek sanctuary deep inside his own mind. Or perhaps, it was forced into retreat against the elf‘s will. All of this sounded logical to the human, but he still had no way to reach Legolas except through what he was already doing, hoping against hope, something would eventually work.

~*~*~

On the morning of the ninth day, Elrond had gone out on the balcony and pulled Aragorn back into the room and steered him over to the far side of the bed. He quietly insisted that Thranduil had to be notified. This time the Lord of Rivendell refused to give in to Estel's protests. The elven king would be told what had befallen his son and that was that.

After Elrond left the room, Aragorn began to panic. He knew the king would take Legolas away to Mirkwood, and he might possibly never see his best friend again, especially since he was sure Thranduil would blame him for everything. *Even though it is my fault.* He had steadfastly refused to discuss his deep sense of guilt with his father or his brothers. Even Glorfindel, who had always been a confidante and mentor to the young human, couldn't get him to speak of it.

All of this turmoil was taking a toll on Estel. Everyone saw it, though no one outside of the family, Glorfindel, and several of the servants ever laid eyes on Aragorn during this time. If the people of Rivendell hadn’t known about Legolas's condition, a fact that had spread quite quickly, they would have assumed the two friends had left again. When the human son of Elrond and the Mirkwood prince were together in Rivendell, everyone knew it, especially if the twins were with them.

The ranger had been steadfastly holding himself together through all of this. Now, with Elrond's decision to contact King Thranduil, it was almost too much for the young human to bear.

The day after Elrond had said he was notifying the King of Mirkwood, Aragorn was sitting glumly on the balcony with Legolas, as usual. He looked around and his eye was caught by the delicate blue flowers that grew in the large wooden flower box that sat at one end of the balcony. The flower resembled a day lily, only smaller. It had a strong fragrance and was Legolas's favorite. These flowers bloomed for only a short while in Spring. Wanting to be close to them while they were in their glory was why Legolas had them near his room. He had planted them himself, tended them lovingly, and they always bloomed hardily for him.

Aragorn picked one. Then he went over and knelt down beside Legolas. He held the flower up under the elf's nose, waving it slowly back and forth, hoping that the rich fragrance would somehow penetrate his subconscious. Estel knew it was probably a futile gesture, but he had long ago vowed that he would continue to do whatever he could think of to try and rouse the unconscious elf.

After a few minutes, Aragorn sighed. It wasn't working, as he had really believed it wouldn't. With a sad smile, he put Legolas's hands together, palms up one on top of the other, and gently laid the flower there. He shook his head to think that if Legolas were awake, such would be the power of the elf’s love for Nature, that he would be totally delighted and yet awed by the simple beauty of this one single flower.

He could almost hear Legolas's laughter floating on the wind.

It was suddenly more than the ranger could bear. Right then, he couldn't bear to see the elf's fair face upturned to the sunlight, when he wasn’t even aware of it, his loose hair cascading over his shoulders and down his chest. He couldn’t bear to see his friend’s eyes closed, hiding the light that should be shining there. He couldn't bear....

Aragorn stood up, emitting a strangled cry, and ran into the room, intending to keep going. But, he couldn't abandon his friend, even as grief overtook him. So, he stopped at the door, leaned his head against it and sobbed, tears overflowing and shoulders shaking with the emotional outburst.

So it was that he didn't see the forefinger on Legolas's right hand jerk. Nor did he hear the soft moan that accompanied the movement. What he did hear was a blood-curling scream.

Aragorn whirled around and ran back to the balcony. When he reached the open doorway, he stopped dead in his tracks. What he saw horrified him. Legolas, eyes still closed and head still tilted back, was clawing at his open mouth with fingers that were now covered in blood.

Chapter Five

Aragorn stood transfixed and wide-eyed by the horror of what the found himself staring at. His mind was screaming at him to move, but he couldn’t get past the horrendous scene before him in order to give his body the command to do so.

He quickly snapped out of his lethargy, rushed to his friend and fell to his knees beside the chair. He grabbed both of Legolas's wrists and pulled his hands away from his bloody mouth.

The elf fought the move, pulling hard against Estel’s grip to try and get his hands back to his mouth. He jerked his head from side to side, sending blood flying in all directions. He was trying desperately to break free from whatever was holding him. Whether it was Estel’s hold on his wrists or something within the elf’s mind, the ranger couldn’t tell. Legolas showed surprising strength, considering the long time he had been inactive. All that messaging had worked, Aragorn thought grimly.

“Daro!” Legolas screamed with heartrending terror in his voice. “Daro! Car al car nad sen!” <Stop. Stop. Do not do this thing.>

“It‘s all right, Legolas, It’s me, Estel. Calm yourself. Please, don’t fight me,” the ranger pleaded, trying to speak gently yet firmly. He knew he needed to get through to the obviously frightened elf. Yet, he certainly wanted to avoid upsetting him further, though it was hard to think the archer could get any more upset than he was already.

Aragorn was taken by surprise, when he was almost hit by an elven hand that suddenly shot out toward his face. He managed to stop the blow an inch short of his nose. The elf’s legs began to kick, but Aragorn was well out of the way of those potential weapons.

“ADA!,” Aragorn yelled, hoping desperately that if Elrond didn’t hear him, someone else would. He couldn’t handle Legolas like this on his own, not as long as his friend continued to fight him. He couldn‘t let go of his wrists to do anything else for him, as the elf‘s body started writhing in his effort to get free.

A gurgling sound caused Aragorn’s heart to lurch as Legolas, with his back arched and his head now all the way back, was beginning to choke, as blood ran down the back of his throat. The human let go of one wrist to try and grab the elf’s head and pull it forward, but Legolas immediately jerked forward himself and put his free hand, fingers curled into a claw, in his mouth and began raking his fingernails back and forth. More blood spilled out and ran down his chin. It then continued down his neck and began to spread, as it encountered the edge of his lavender silk nightshirt. He then jerked his head forcefully back against the pillow. Aragorn had no choice but to grab Legolas's hand again and pull it away from his mouth.

“ADA!” Estel yelled out frantically once again.

A few seconds later, Elrond, who had heard Legolas scream, came rushing in and moved around to the far side of the chair. “By the Valar!” the elf Lord exclaimed. He quickly put his hand behind the younger elf’s neck and pulled him forward, tilting his head down slightly. With his free hand he pulled the blood-stained pillow from behind the archer and pressed the elf against the back of the chair. He tossed the pillow in the general direction of the other chair, not caring where it landed.

With more surprising strength, Legolas once again threw his head back, pulling it out of the grip Elrond had on his neck. A violent coughing spell erupted. Blood sprayed outward, hitting both Elrond and Aragorn in the face and splattering their clothes. A spray of crimson fell once more upon the archer’s blond hair, on his nightshirt and on the blanket that had become wadded up in his lap.

“He’s choking on his own blood,” Aragorn said, his voice still holding a tinge of horror.

Just then both Elladan and Elrohir came running into the room and onto the balcony. They, too, were shocked by what they were witnessing, staring in mute horror. They unconsciously grabbed and held each other’s hands.

Elrond, who was facing them, said, “Elladan, stand behind the chair and put your hands on each side of Legolas's head and hold it steady. Keep it tilted forward.” He wanted to make sure no more blood would go down the elf prince’s throat.

“Elrohir, get me two towels and a basin of water.” When there was no sign the elf had heard his father speak to him, Elrond called his name more urgently. “Elrohir.”

Elrohir snapped out of his trance. “Sorry, Ada.“ He sprang into action and ran into the washroom. When he returned, he handed a fluffy towel toward his father, leaving one draped over his arm. He held onto the basin, waiting until he was asked for it. He stood motionless and watched what was unfolding before him. There were tears in his eyes to think of the fear and pain Legolas must be going through.

Once Legolas's head was secure in Elladan’s grip, the elf Lord took the towel Elrohir offered and put one small part of it in Legolas's mouth to soak up the excess blood. He exerted a small amount of pressure to staunch as much of the blood flow as he could. He repeated the process over and over, each time using a clean part of the towel, until there was no signs of fresh bleeding. Most of the white towel he held was splotched with red. He handed it to Elrohir.

Legolas had quit struggling, however, his body was jerking with uncontrolled spasms, accompanied by low moans. At least, he was able to breathe, Aragorn thought, trying to find something positive in this horrible situation.

As Legolas calmed further, Aragorn and the elves began to relax slightly, though they remained alert to a possible repeat of what had just occurred. The ranger cautiously let go of Legolas's wrists. Small tremors still ran through the elf’s body.

Elladan continued to hold Legolas's head, as Aragorn took the water basin from Elrohir’s hands. He then took the other towel, dipped it into the water and began to clean the elf’s face, neck and hands. He also wiped as much blood as he could from his hair.

Elrond frowned. He had seen many a bizarre behavior in his long years, but never had he seen anything quite like this. “What happened, Estel?”

Feeling shame, the ranger didn’t want to admit his temporary abandonment of his friend simply because he couldn‘t control hjs own emotions. Unable to look his father in the eye, he kept his head down, as he began to clean the blood from under Legolas's fingernails. “I was in the room, when I heard him scream. I ran back out here and found him clawing in his mouth. He looked like he was trying to dig something out of it. It was so sudden and violent. I can’t imagine what caused him to do something like that.”

Just before Legolas went completely limp, he uttered one word. A word that only Elrond fully heard and comprehended. “Lhûg.” <Serpent>

Elrond , already on his knees, fell backward onto his heels. There was a sharp intake of breath from the elven Lord. The look of utter disbelief on his face was disturbing to all who saw it. No one saw anything happening right at that moment that could cause such a reaction from the normally composed elf Lord.

“Ada, what is wrong?” Elrohir asked, concern clearly showing on his face. He made a move to go to his father, thinking he must have suddenly been afflicted in some way.

Elrond held his hand up and gave a small wave to indicate he was all right. His expression, however, didn’t chance. The elf Lord shook his head. “It cannot be. I missed it.” Elrond looked stunned. He lowered his head. “I never thought to look there.”

When he raised his head again, he saw three pairs of eyes starting at him. His sons couldn’t imagine what he was talking about or why he now looked totally distraught. No one spoke.

With a concerted effort, Elrond pushed aside what he had just experienced and, to all outward appearances, returned to the efficient, in-control elf Lord they all knew. He gave no explanation.

Elrond got back up onto his knees. He opened Legolas's mouth, and using gentle hands, began to inspect it. It was assumed that he was checking to see what damage Legolas had done to himself. In truth, he was checking for something far different. He could find nothing other than the slashes and gouges that Legolas's fingernails had inflicted. “Destroyed,” Elrond whispered almost under his breath.

Even without elven hearing, Estel heard the word clearly. “What’s destroyed?“ His eyes suddenly went wide. “Do you mean he’s destroyed his mouth?” He knew that was extremely unlikely, and the question sounded ridiculous, but it was the first thing that came to mind, so he had blurted it out.

“No. His mouth is damaged quite badly, but it is not beyond repair. I was speaking of something else.” For a second, Elrond’s mind seemed to move far away. With a jerk, he shook off the dark thoughts that had taken momentary hold of him. “It does not need to be spoken of just yet. Right now, we must get Legolas back into bed.” The tone of the elf Lord’s voice gave no room for argument.

Aragorn pulled the blanket from the elf’s lap and handed it to Elladan, who released his hold on Legolas's head. He carried his friend back into the room and set him on the bed, holding him upright as he told Elrohir to get a clean nightshirt. Once that was changed, Legolas was put under the covers.

It was only then that Glorfindel’s presence was discovered. Like the others, he had come running in when he heard the scream and ascertained where it had come from. Upon his arrival, he had seen that the three elves and the human had the situation in hand, so he kept back out of the way.

His presence was acknowledged but no one spoke at first. Then, Elladan said, “You saw what happened?” At Glorfindel’s nod, the younger elf said, “Do you know what may have caused this?”

Before answering, Glorfindel caught the warning look in Elrond’s eye. Since, in truth, he had no answers, he simply shook his head sadly. He would definitely have to have a talk with Elrond, because the Lord of Imladrs knew something he didn’t want discussed, at least not in front of his sons. The older blond elf was determined to find out what it was.

Elladan remained out on the balcony as he held the blanket up to fold it rather than leave it a wadded up mess, when he noticed something fall out of it onto the balcony floor. He bent down and picked the object up. He found himself staring at one of the blue flowers from Legolas flower box. The little flower was splattered with blood. Knowing how Legolas felt about this particular flower, he couldn’t bear to just crush it up, so he set it gently on top of the balcony railing.

Elladan laid the folded blanket on the chair and turned away and so didn’t notice that the wind picked the little flower up and sent it flying toward the garden below. It landed on a patch of new Spring grass. No one was a witness, as its petals waved gently in the air current.

In the room, Elrond was telling Estel to go in the washroom and clean himself up. When the young man returned, he handed his father a damp towel and watched as Elrond wiped his own face and hands. He looked down at his now blood-stained blue robe. The robe itself didn’t matter. It was the reason behind the robe’s condition that saddened his heart.

The elf Lord began to address everyone, who were now standing around the elf prince‘s bed. “Someone must stay right at Legolas's side at all times. Therefore, two of us will always have to be with him, so if one needs to leave or take a break, Legolas will not be alone. We cannot take the chance that this may happen again, when someone’s back is turned.”

Aragorn’s shoulders slumped, as he hung his head. Elrond put a hand on his son’s arm. “No one is blaming you, Estel. You have done more for him than any of us. Do not take yourself to task. It could have happened to anyone who was here.”

Aragorn felt only marginally better by what his father said. His head knew the words were true, but would he ever be able to convince his heart?

~*~*~

Many miles away from Rivendell, a tall figure dressed all in black stood in a dark forest and stared toward the north. Mordraug couldn’t see the woodland realm he looked toward, but he knew all too well exactly where it lay.

An orc, somewhat large for his kind, approached. “Will he come, Master?”

“Oh yes, Grug. I have seen to that,” the tall figure replied, very pleased with himself. An arrogant smile appeared on Mordraug’s face, as he stroked the head of the slender black snake that was wrapped around his left arm. “He will come.”

Chapter Six

Legolas remained still and quiet, since being settled back into bed after his terrifying outburst. He was again as unresponsive as he had been all the previous days, since he and Aragorn had returned.

Elrond had prepared a bowl of hot water containing athelas leaves, and now that the leaves had steeped a sufficient length of time, he dipped a cloth into the bowl and wrung out the excess liquid. He sat on the bed and leaned over Legolas, as he applied the cloth to the inside of the younger elf’s mouth. Only a small amount of still oozing blood came away on the cloth.

By the time the mixture in the bowl had cooled completely, the elf Lord was satisfied that he had made enough medicinal applications. He sat up straight and handed the bowl and the cloth to Elladan. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That should be quite adequate for now.” He looked at his eldest son. “Every couple of hours repeat what I have just done.” Elrond stood up. “We can only hope that Legolas's natural healing ability has not been damaged by whatever has happened to him. However, it may well have been. That is why I want several applications of the athelas to keep the healing process continuing.”

Elladan nodded. “I will do it, Ada.” He took the bowl and the cloth and set them on the stand next to the bed. He would take them away when it was time to replace them for another treatment. Right now, he wanted to hear what his father might say.

Elrond looked toward Glorfindel. He almost wished he hadn’t. The fair haired elf was looking at him with a stern expression, and he knew there was no way he could avoid the discussion he felt sure was coming. He didn’t mind actually. It would be good to talk to someone about what he suspected, though Glorfindel would not be the least bit happy with what he would have to say. No one would, when all the details finally became known. However, the time was not yet right for that bit of news.

Elrond left the room without another word. Glorfindel was right on his heels. Just as Elrond closed the door, he saw that Estel had sat back down on the bed and taken Legolas's hand in his. It had become a common sight. Having physical contact with his friend seemed to lessen his son’s burden, at least in part. He knew, however, that having Legolas wake up was the only thing that would truly bring joy to Estel’s heart. And, he had to hope that Legolas would somehow know that Estel was there with him.

Glorfindel followed Elrond down the hall and into his private study. An assortment of books of all sizes and colors, the majority of which were leather-bound, lay all around the room, stacked on table tops and on chairs. The long sofa that was set against the wall on the right side of the room and on which Elrond sometimes slept was covered with the tomes. The large wooden desk that dominated the far end of the study was piled high with them, some opened and some closed.

Only when Elrond was determinedly searching for answers to puzzling mysteries did the room look this disheveled. It was usually extremely neat and tidy, though the desk itself was never without an abundance of papers spread out upon it. So many books were scattered around that there were large gaps in the many rows of books that lined each wall floor to ceiling.

As Elrond sat down behind the desk, Glorfindel moved a pile of books on the seat of one of the chairs that helped to furnish the room and set this stack on top of another on the corner of the desk. He pulled the chair up so that when he sat down, he’d be looking directly across at his friend, whom he now stared intently straight at. “You know what has happened to Legolas, do you not?” Glorfindel tried to keep his tone neutral. He didn‘t want to sound accusatory.

Elrond sat with his elbows on the desktop, lacing his fingers together. He put them against his forehead, as he bent his head forward, and then he sighed. He placed one thumb on each temple and began to move them slowly in a circle, trying to message away the pain that was beginning to make itself felt there.

He decided there was no point in stalling. After another moment of messaging his temples, he looked up, placing his hands on a scroll, yellowed with age, that was rolled up and sitting in front of him. “I have no proof, but yes, I believe I know what has happened to Legolas.”

Glorfindel eyed the scroll and waited, but when Elrond said nothing further, he asked, “What is it?”

The elf Lord directed a look toward his friend that Glorfindel swore bordered on fear. “Mordraug.”

Glorfindel’s eyes went wide, and he couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped his lips. He averted his eyes, when he saw the fearful expression on his friend’s face intensify. It was quite clear that Elrond dreaded even having to say the name. He couldn’t blame him. Staring at his own hands, Glorfindel shook his head and said, “It cannot be. He was destroyed almost a thousand years ago.”

“That is what we were led to believe. Now, I am not so sure. You did not hear what Legolas said just before he went completely limp again.”

No, Glorfindel had to admit, he hadn’t heard Legolas say anything at all. “What did he say?”

“One word---lhûg.”

For the second time in a few short minutes, the blond elf’s eyes went wide. “No,” he whispered, despite now knowing Elrond was probably right about the reason for Legolas's condition. “Not again.” He looked up. After the shock wore off a little, he asked a question that only appeared to change the subject. “When will Thranduil arrive?”

“In four days, if I know him. As you know, I notified him yesterday. It is a long journey, but he will surely push himself and those with him very hard where his son is concerned. Despite all his faults, he loves his children, as much as I love mine.” *If only he was easier to deal with in every other aspect of his life,* Elrond mused.

“I am glad it is you and not me that has to give him this news,” Glorfindel said, feeling only slightly guilty at the cowardly admission. Being Elrond’s friend had put the elf on the Mirkwood King’s enemy list. No one sided with people Thranduil didn’t like and stayed his friend. But this time, instead of butting heads, which he was fully prepared to do should the need arise, Glorfindel would do all in his power to help the woodland King, if only Thranduil’s pride didn’t cause him to refuse that help. He knew Elrond felt the same.

Glorfindel suddenly realized what Elrond meant, when he had looked in Legolas's mouth and said the word, “Destroyed” and why his inspection seemed so much more intense than the situation warranted. “You were looking for evidence to back up your suspicion, but there was too much damage to confirm it.” It was a flat statement and not a question.

The Lord of Imladris nodded. “It just never occurred to me to look there. If I had...” He understood the feeling of guilt that Estel was experiencing, though he still didn’t know what his son believed he had done wrong.

“You had no reason to consider looking in his mouth.” Glorfindel said, as he tried to defend Elrond’s actions and ease his friend’s conscience.

Elrond suddenly felt very weary and very old. “I should have considered it,” he whispered so softly that Glorfindel barely caught it.

“Elrond, all the others died within days, some within hours. They did not linger the way Legolas has. You had no reason to connect what happened then with what is happening now.”

“Perhaps.” Elrond’s remark still held a note of guilt, because he still wasn’t ready to absolve himself entirely from the fact that the answer had been within his grasp, if only he had gone back into his memories. They were memories that he had forcefully buried long ago. It mattered not to him that what Glorfindel said was reasonable, and Elrond could not have logically made the connection. Still....

In a normal tone, Elrond said, “These next weeks are going to be extremely hard for all of us, especially Legolas and Thranduil.”

“Can Legolas be saved?” It was a blunt question. The answer, be it one way or another, needed to be faced.

Elrond shrugged. “You know Mordraug and what he is capable of, as well as I do,” was his only reply. He was going to let Glorfindel come to his own conclusions, because he had did not want to think of Legolas's possible fate, though he truly feared for the woodland elf. The young prince had hung on far longer than any other of Mordraug’s victims. But, whether that was due to the elf’s stubborn determination to survive or whether it was by Mordraug’s design, he knew not.

Elrond stared at all the books that lay around the room, knowing full well that all the research he had been doing in them night and day had been a complete waste of time. Only the scroll meant anything now, and it held no secrets, no answers that weren’t already known. *How can we go through this again?* If the elf Lord had been given to tears, now would have been the time to shed them---for Legolas, for Thranduil, for them all.

A deep silence descended between the two friends, each lost in his own thoughts and memories of a horror from the past that was coming back to haunt them.

~*~*~*

Aragorn and the twins had been too unnerved by what had happed to Legolas out on the balcony to question what Elrond’s words had meant. For his part, the elf Lord hadn’t expanded on those cryptic words, because he knew it would all be laid bare soon enough. Aragorn had even forgotten that King Thranduil was on his way and would soon be arriving in Rivendell.

Aragorn now refused to leave Legolas's side even to sleep in his own room. It didn’t matter that the twins agreed, once again, to stay with the Mirkwood elf. More than once, the ranger had fallen asleep sitting on the bed, Legolas's hand encircled within his.

Elladan and Elrohir brought their brother food, which he hardly ate, despite their urgings and threats. They finally gave up arguing but continued to bring trays to the room, hoping that with each one, Estel would change his mind. The trays always went back barely touched.

Legolas's mouth had swollen somewhat, even with the athelas applications that Elladan administered, so Aragorn was afraid to try and feed him. He did continue to bathe his friend, wash his hair and change his nightshirt. Yet, even with the beckoning sunshine and warm Spring breezes, he couldn’t bring himself to put Legolas back out on the balcony.

Finally on the third day after the incident, Legolas began to stir. It started with soft moans, and then the elf started to shift his body, the way most waking beings do. It was only small movements at first, but then he became louder and more active.

Aragorn, who had been dozing, woke up immediately. He looked intently at Legolas and then up at Elladan, who was the one with him this day. The expression of joy on Estel’s face went far beyond a mere smile, and pure happiness shone in his eyes. “He’s coming back to us.”

So long had they waited for just such signs that Legolas's was waking up, and so long had it been since a smile had graced his human brother’s face, that Elladan couldn’t contain a broad smile of his own. He didn’t even try, because his own heart was overflowing with happiness.

Elrohir, who had chosen just that moment to come into the room with a lunch tray, was sent off to get Elrond, as Aragorn and Elladan practically held their breaths.

Aragorn moved closer to Legolas and began to call to him softly. “Mellon nin, you must open your eyes. Come to the light, Legolas. Come to us. We’re here waiting for you.” His eyes never left the elf’s face. Estel squeezed the elven hand tighter, as he placed his other hand, palm open, against Legolas's chest over his heart.

Chapter Seven

Legolas suddenly became aware of his own existence. He looked around him and saw only darkness. He sensed no walls nor did he sense open air. He focused his hearing but could detect no overt sounds. There was nothing but a deafening silence, so palpable it was like a distant muffled roar in his ears. He had never experienced such a phenomenon before, and he almost laughed to think that total silence could be so loud.

Where was he? He had to think hard to try and recall how he came to be here, wherever ‘here’ was. *Why do I not remember?* Legolas felt himself rapidly growing frustrated.

He noted with anticipation that the darkness was beginning to fade. But, instead of revealing his whereabouts, his eyes were met with a world of swirling gray. He shook his head, but he couldn’t feel it. Nor, he realized with dismay, could he feel his body. He looked down, but saw nothing. He held his hands up in front of his face, at least that was the command he had given to his brain. There was no sense of movement and nothing to see. His mind seemed to be suspended in space, yet there was no sensation of floating. *How very strange,* he mused.

As he pondered the implications, a feeling of panic began to crawl through his mind. *Am I dead?* He dismissed the thought almost immediately. *This cannot be the Halls of Mandos. I should be seeing others of my kind waiting for me.* He thought of his mother. Surely, she would be there to welcome him. And his grandfather, Oropher, as well as friends he had lost to battles fought during his lifetime. This was nothing like what he had been led to believe the Halls would be like. Had he done something to cause himself to be condemned? Was that what he couldn’t remember? Was this gray nothingness a place of punishment where he must wander alone, without a body, for all eternity?

Legolas made a conscious effort to banish those dark thoughts and try to come up with an alternate possibility. *Perhaps, I’m not dead after all.* Before he could gain much comfort from exploring that idea, he thought, *Then, why am I not able to see or feel my body?*

All the questions with no answers were only adding to his confusion. “I do not understand any of this.” He was startled, when he realized he had spoken out loud. A grim smile touched his lips, as it then dawned on him that at least he could hear his own voice. He again looked down to where his body should be in the hopes that it had made itself visible. No such luck.

He looked up then and saw a form moving in this gray world. It was only a shadow at first, just something indistinct that was only slightly darker than the gray color all about him. The shadow undulated, disappearing from sight and then reappearing a few seconds later only to vanish once again, making Legolas doubt he had really seen anything at all. Staring hard into the grayness, he saw that there definitely was something, and it was coming toward him. It became larger and darker and took on a more definite shape as it neared. The elf stared, mesmerized by the rapidly solidifying apparition.

Legolas may not have been able to see his body, but he suddenly felt it quite plainly. His heart almost came to a full stop, causing a jolt within his chest, and his breathing became shallow and rapid, as he saw what was approaching him. The form had finally coalesced into a huge black snake, rising up and hovering menacingly above him, yellow eyes gleaming and fangs extended. It radiated an evil that he could almost taste.

Without warning, it lunged straight down toward his upturned face. He heard a blood curdling scream and knew it was his own.

Then, awareness fled, as he was enveloped in a coccoon of nothingness.

~*~*~

Legolas became aware of his own existence once again. There was no way to tell if he had been unaware for a minute or a millennium. He struggled to open his eyes, expecting to see either the darkness or the gray world he remembered. He was certain there had been something else, too, an evil form of some kind, but he couldn’t place what it was. The memory vanished before he could grasp it. He only knew that the thought of it made him shiver.

The elf Prince was surprised, when he found himself in a world of light. Very bright light. Where was he now? The wall of light didn’t surround him the way the darkness and the grayness had done but instead seemed to be concentrated to his left. It hurt his eyes, but it was so welcome that he forced himself to endure the stabbing pain, as he struggled to keep his eyes open. It didn’t take long, however, for the pain to force him to turn his head away from it. The most intense part of the brilliance faded to a manageable level as he slowly turned his head to the right.

He saw a form above and beside him, and he flinched back. Was this the thing he feared in that other place? No, he soon reasoned. This form didn’t radiate the evil he had felt from the one he couldn‘t quite remember. His tensed muscles began to relax just a little. Until he understood where he was now and who or what was there with him, he couldn’t relax completely.

Legolas blinked several times until slowly, very slowly, the form beside him began to come into focus. A human, dark-haired. He stared, as if not sure the human was real. He was suddenly afraid the apparition would vanish, and he would be left alone again. The fear of isolation terrified him. He blinked again. The human was still there. Still, a touch of fear remained in his eyes.

“Am I really here?* he asked himself. He needed to know, so he brought his hands up and held them bare inches from his face. *I can see my hands.* A quick glance down revealed the shapes of two legs and two feet under the covers. An overwhelming wave of relief flooded through him. He had a body!

Legolas was almost afraid to move his hands out of his sight for fear they would disappear, but keeping them in front of his face like this was impractical, so he lowered them, though somewhat reluctantly. He stared at the human again, realizing then, who it was that sat beside him. It was Estel, his best friend. His heart skipped a beat with the sudden joy that came close to swamping him, but for some reason, he couldn’t make his face reflect the joy his heart felt. He wanted to frown in frustration but couldn’t manage that, either.

Aragorn was unable to contain his own joy at seeing that his friend’s eyes were open. Watching the elf examine his hands with a sense of wonder---or was it relief?---bewildered him. So did the different emotions that chased each other rhrough the depths of his friend’s eyes. But, just then, it didn’t matter. Legolas had awakened, and he recognized the ranger.

“Legolas.” The elf’s name was spoken with all the feeling Aragorn’s overflowing heart could command. A huge smile split his face. “Legolas,” he said again, this time saying the name so softly it was like a breath.

“Estel.” Legolas's voice confirmed the recognition. It sounded more like a raspy croak than the normally melodic voice of the Mirkwood prince. His mouth was as dry as a desert, and it was sore.

“Yes, Legolas. It’s me.” Aragorn slid his hand on top of the elf’s but didn‘t grasp it. The ranger’s smile soon faded, when he reached toward the elf’s face with his other hand to touch his cheek and give his friend a reassuring caress.

In that instant, all Legolas saw was a slender form coming toward his face. Without fully understanding why, he jerked his head away from Aragorn and gave a small cry of panic. He knew who it was, but his reaction was done without conscious thought. He had no idea why he felt such terror at the gesture. Estel was his best friend, a man into whose hands he had placed his life many times and would do so again without question. Estel would never hurt him. Yet, he couldn’t have stopped his reaction, even if he had been given the chance.

Aragorn pulled his hand back quickly, not understanding but not wanting to do anything that would upset his friend. The elf made no effort to pull his right hand from under the ranger’s, so he either wasn’t fully aware of the touch yet or that type of contact didn’t bother him. Aragorn didn’t know which was true, but he had no intention of questioning Legolas about it.

Fear slowly faded from Legolas's eyes, as he realized he was in a bed. Bewildered, he looked back at Estel and asked, “Where...?”

The archer heard a soft noise off to his left. He saw a raven-haired elf come through the wall of light to stand beside the bed. “You’re back in Rivendell,” Elladan said quietly. He had the same broad smile that was still on Estel’s face. “It’s so good to see you awake, mellon nin.”

Legolas nodded toward Elladan. Wanting to say something to his long time friend in return, the blond elf swallowed several times, wincing a bit as he did so. “Thirsty.” It seemed that all he could manage to get out was one word at a time.

Elladan picked up the pitcher on the nightstand by the bed and poured water into a cup that had been sitting beside it. He slipped his hand under Legolas's shoulders and lifted him up enough for the elf to drink from the cup. The elven prince drank every drop of the water. He shook his head when asked if he wanted any more.

“Thank you, Elladan.” He opened his mouth to say more but couldn’t get any words to come out.

Just then, Elrond came hurrying into the room with Elrohir right behind him. Both elves smiled to see that Legolas was truly awake. It was something that all of them had hoped for with all their being.

Elrond approached the bed slowly, not wanting it to appear that he was swooping down upon the young elf, who he suspected might still be somewhat bewildered. He wasn’t wrong in that assumption.

Legolas stared at him, and even though his expression didn’t change, there was also recognition in his eyes for the elf Lord and Elrohir beside him. Both now wore the same smile that dominated the faces of Estel and Elladan.

There was no thought of asking the prince if he could remember what had happened. Considering what Elrond knew about the origin of Legolas's condition, he was sure it would take time for the young elf to be able to talk about it. Coming to terms with it and placing it in the past would take a lot longer. He knew that fact from experience, though not from the viewpoint of a victim, which had to be far worse. There was no fear in the archer’s eyes, so Elrond felt sure that for the time being, at least, Legolas didn’t remember what had taken place.

“You’ve no idea how...” Estel started to say long, but decided not to inform him just yet that he had been unconscious for almost two weeks. So instead, he said, “...much we’ve wanted to see those beautiful elven eyes of yours open.”

Legolas spoiled Aragorn’s hopes with his next question. “How long have I been here?” His voice almost gave out just from putting those few words together, despite the refreshing water Elladan had given him.

“We can talk about that later,” Elladan replied, trying to steer the younger elf away from the subject.

The blond would have none of it and shook his head. “How long?”

*Stubborn elf* Aragorn thought but then realized that it was probably that famous Greenleaf stubbornness that was responsible for the elf’s awakening.

Estel looked at his father, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug. He decided that avoiding the subject would probably be more aggravating for Legolas than the answer was likely to be.

“Thirteen days,” Aragorn said simply, not sure what the reaction would be. He decided not to mention that he had also been unconscious for four days before that while on the road back to Rivendell.

Legolas greeted Estel’s words with a more intense expression of disbelief. *Thirteen days?* How could he have been unconscious that long? Wouldn’t he have starved by then? Even being an elf and not having to eat as much or as often as mortals, he still would have needed food to sustain his body during all that time. He knew, though, that Estel was telling him the truth. His weary mind told him he would have to ask about that later.

Elrond moved a bit closer to the bed. “I know this may sound strange to you, considering how long you have been unconscious, but you need to sleep. Good healing sleep,” he added firmly. “I know you are confused, Legolas, and I am sure you are full of questions, but after you have some genuine rest, you will feel more able to deal with everything.” Legolas's mouth, for the most part, was already healed. It was the elf’s mind and spirit, more so than his body, that needed true rest.

Elrond regarded the young elf with a stern yet fatherly expression. It was obvious that he would not take no for an answer. As if to confirm that fact, he crossed his arms over his chest. Everyone, even a confused elf who had just come out of a deep coma, knew what that meant.

Legolas had to bow to Elrond‘s wisdom and nodded. No matter how much he wanted answers to all the questions that were colliding inside his head or how much he wanted to remain awake to be with his friends, he was exhausted. He had fought so long and so hard to return to the light and perhaps to survive, he couldn’t muster the strength to fight sleep.

The blond warrior locked eyes with Estel. After a few seconds, he again attempted to smile. This time he got the corners of his mouth to cooperate. They barely lifted and many would have missed it, but Estel did not.

Legolas's eyelids began to droop. He slipped his hand from under Estel’s and laid it on top, squeezing his friend’s hand. There wasn’t much strength behind the move, but it was enough for Estel to understand that Legolas was saying ‘thank you’. The elf may never know all that the ranger had done for him, but he knew Estel. He knew the love, loyalty and unselfishness the man would have put into trying to bring him back.

Legolas surrendered to the true sleep his body was craving, and he finally closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, and there was a collective sigh from everyone in the room. Only the fact that his eyes were closed spoke of true exhaustion and not regular elven sleep.

“Quel kaima, mellon nin,” Estel whispered. <Sleep well, my friend>

Even though he looked the same way he had for all these past days, Aragorn knew that the elf was getting the kind of sleep he needed. He tried not to think about the fact his spirit may have been damaged in some way by his experience, whatever it had been. He knew by the terrifying incident out on the balcony that it must have been horrendous. Only time would reveal just how horrendous.

Aragorn forced the thoughts away. This was the time for happiness, not the time for borrowing trouble where none may even exist. However, he did say a prayer to the Valar that Legolas's sleep would not be invaded by dark dreams and nightmares.

~*~*~

Aragorn never left Legolas's side, as the elf slept until late afternoon of the next day. Instead of the death-like stillness he had been lost in before, this time he acted the same as any other sleeping creature. He occasionally shifted his body, moved an arm, a leg and turned his head from time to time. Once he even burrowed down farther under the covers and moaned contentedly, which drew a happy smile from Estel.

In fact, each of the elf’s moves, no matter how small, brought a smile to Estel’s face and lifted his heart just a little bit more. He had convinced himself that when Legolas finally woke up again, he would be the same elf he had known for years.

Chapter Eight

Legolas slept until the afternoon of the next day before his inner being dragged his consciousness back into the waking world. It wasn’t a torturous journey, but it was a reluctant one. There had been no dreams, good or bad, just a warm sense of well-being. Well, almost.

Somewhere deep inside, on the very fringes of his mind, he knew there was a terror he couldn‘t define. Try as he might, he wasn’t able to grasp it and expose it to examination. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to bring it to the forefront of his mind anyway, so the dark feeling was pushed away, as he let himself be guided back toward wakefulness.

When he felt himself on the surface, he cautiously opened his eyes, not sure which world would greet him this time. With great relief, he saw that he was in the familiar world of light.

He saw Estel sitting on the bed pretty much where he had last seen him. This time the man was adjusting the covers that lay lightly over the elf. They didn’t need adjusting, having been smoothed out and folded and creased and smoothed out again over and over in the last few hours.

Legolas watched the ranger’s movements and shook his head ever so slightly. Estel was fidgeting while he waited for Legolas to awaken once again. He was normally very patient, but this wasn’t the first time the elf had seen his friend do little meaningless tasks to occupy his mind while he waited for something to happen that he was anticipating. It was, however, never done before a battle or in front of other rangers or soldiers or anyone else who might interpret this fidgeting as a reason to doubt his ability to lead successfully. It seemed to be a private thing when only close friends or family were around. It was done with unfocused attention and always caused Legolas to marvel that Aragorn’s mind could unconsciously make the distinction.

In an attempt to ease his friend’s obvious anxiety, he said, “The bed covers look very nice, Estel.” He was happily surprised his voice sounded almost normal.

The sound made Aragorn jump. He looked at Legolas and caught the amusement in those blue-gray eyes he knew so well. He quickly understood the reason behind the elf‘s words, so he played along.

“Well, I couldn’t have you waking up and complaining that the hosts of Rivendell keep their guests in rumpled beds. We have a reputation to uphold, you know.” He tried hard to look stern, but he was just too happy and couldn’t make his face do anything but smile.

The friends were so in tuned to one another that they could comfortably discuss, with absolute honesty, any subject under he sun. But, they also often used humor to lighten potentially intense moments.

First things first, Legolas decided. “I am thirsty,” he said, remembering that the first time he had awakened he had also had a great need for water There was no longer any soreness in his mouth, but it was parched and made swallowing hard.

Aragorn helped him drink an almost full cup of water. “Are you hungry?” he inquired, as he set the cup back down and eased the elf back against the pillow.

“Not now,” Legolas replied, much to the ranger’s surprise. He hadn’t had anything to eat since.... He shook off the thought. He had no intention of mentioning anything that had happened unless specifically asked. Estel knew the fear that had appeared in the Wood-elf’s eyes the day before would not be noticeable except by those who knew him well, and they wouldn‘t question him until they knew he first remembered what had happened and then was able to handle it. Aragorn decided instead to concentrate on the happiness that dominated the elf’s eyes.

Legolas did want the answer to a question of his own, so he asked, “How long have I slept this time?”

Aragorn’s smile didn’t diminish at all. “A day. It was yesterday, when you first opened your eyes. And, it was one of the happiest days I can remember.”

Legolas saw clearly the immense depth of Estel’s feelings, and it caused he, himself, to became overwhelmed with emotion. He held his arms out toward the man, and Aragorn leaned down and enfolded the elf in his strong arms. “Welcome back, mellon nin,” he whispered into his best friend’s ear.

“Hannon le, Estel. It is good to be back,” Legolas whispered in return, switching languages easily from one sentence to the next. Even having no clue as to what had happened since arriving in Rivendell, he believed that it had been Estel’s nurturing as much as the elf’s own fighting spirit that had brought him back to consciousness. <Thank you, Estel>

Aragorn gave Legolas an extra tight squeeze and then sat up straight with an even bigger smile on his face. He understood the feelings Legolas had, because he knew how he would feel in the elf’s place, and having him demonstrate those feelings this way meant the world to the ranger.

At that exact moment, Elrond was walking down the hall on his way to Legolas's room. Glorfindel was with him and asking how long before the truth had to be told, especially to Legolas. Elrond didn’t have a chance to answer, because just as they reached the door to the prince’s room, there was a commotion on the stairs at the end of the hall they were facing, and that commotion was heading up toward their location. It didn’t take a genius to know what was happening.

Elrond stood facing the stairs. He exchanged a glance with Glorfindel, who took a deep breath. They could have been hard of hearing and still would have clearly heard the booming voice directed at two unfortunate servants. “Where is Prince Legolas?”

King Thranduil of Mirkwood had arrived.

The two elf Lords watched as an imposing, blond-haired elf, looking every inch a king, strode toward them. His handsome face was a mask of storm clouds. He stopped barely a foot from the Lord of Rivendell. “Where...is...my...son?”

Up until now, Elrond had hoped to inform Thranduil about Mordraug before he did anything else, but he knew that the Mirkwood king would not listen to any explanations at this point. Elrond couldn‘t really blame him, either. He wouldn’t have let anything stop him from first seeing one of his children, if their roles were reversed.

With a sigh, Elrond stepped back and motioned to the door a few feet to his left.

Almost snarling, the woodland king said, “I will deal with you later, Elrond. And you, too, Glorfindel. Count on it.” Thranduil then pushed past Elrond and headed straight toward his son’s room. He unceremoniously threw open the door and left it standing wide open as he marched in.

Aragorn swung his head around when he heard the door fly open. He jumped to his feet, masking his feeling of dread, as he saw not just that Thranduil had arrived, but his angry countenance, as well. *He’s going to take Legolas away.* He knew it with absolute certainty. It was his first and only thought, and for the moment, it replaced the joy he had been experiencing since Legolas had awakened the day before.

Thranduil went to the same side of the bed where Aragorn stood, seemingly ignorant of the human‘s presence, though in truth, he was well aware of it. He didn’t look at the ranger. In fact, he didn’t look at anything except the figure lying in the bed. Aragorn was sure the elven king would barrel straight into him and knock him over, if he didn’t move, so he backed a few feet away.

When Thranduil reached the side of the bed, his furious expression softened into a look of pure love and no small amount of worry. His eyes never left Legolas's surprised and happy face.

Without hesitation, Thranduil pulled the covers aside and sat down. Reaching down, he put his arms around the back of Legolas's shoulders and pulled him up into a tight embrace. After a moment, he released his hold on his son and held him out in front of him.

“Ada. You have come.”

“I will always come, when you need me, Little One.” Thranduil smiled warmly.

“You have not called me that in a long time.”

“You have become an adult, Legolas, a brave and skilled warrior, and I am very proud of you. But, deep in my heart, you will always be my Little One.”

Thranduil again pulled Legolas against his chest. He pressed his son’s head against his shoulder and held him close, as Legolas's arms wrapped tightly around his father’s back. The elven King absently took a handful of Legolas's loose hair and pushed it behind his delicately pointed ear, stroking the golden strands over and over. He put his cheek down on Legolas's head and closed his eyes.

Thranduil loved each of his three sons and two daughters as much as any father can love his children. But, Legolas was his youngest, the one that most resembled his loving mother, who had been killed when Legolas was still very small. He also possessed her pure heart, fierce loyalty and lighthearted personality. Thranduil knew he would never marry again. This was his last child, and he cherished him.

The two sat for a long time holding each other. Thranduil rocked slowly back and forth. It was so much like the days of Legolas's youth, when he had held the child after the elfling had cried for his mother or become upset over one thing or another.

Memories overtook Legolas as well, as he also closed his eyes, remembering all the times his father had held him just like this. He felt so safe and secure in Thranduil’s arms. Adult he may be, but right now, this was the only place in the world Legolas wanted to be.

Aragorn felt as if he was intruding on a very private moment between father and son. There was no jealousy in the ranger’s heart. He turned and slipped quietly out of the room. His own father, both of his brothers, who had arrived after Thranduil’s loud entrance, and Glorfindel were standing just outside in the corridor, having witnessed the whole scene through the open door. They stepped aside and let Aragorn exit the room.

Elrond stepped forward and closed the door on father and son. “I do not know of anyone other than Thranduil, who can go from a furious king to a loving father in the space of a minute.”

“Did it take that long?” Glorfindel asked, shaking his head. He looked at Elrond. “He will go right back to being the furious king, when he walks out of that room.”

Elrond looked at the closed door and sighed. “I know.” He spread his arms out to encompass his sons and his friend. “Come. Let us give them some time together before the storm breaks.”

Only the faces of the two older elves did not reflect a puzzled expression. Elrond’s three sons were all sure those ominous words had nothing to do with the weather.

~*~*~

After what seemed like hours, Legolas sat back and looked at this father. “I am sorry to worry you, Ada.” He shook his head. “I do not remember anything that happened to me.”

“We can sort that out later, Legolas,” his father assured him. “All that matters right now is that you are all right .” Thranduil looked hard at his son. “Did that ranger get you into trouble?” His words were accusatory and bordered on anger.

Legolas shook his head. “Estel saved me, Ada. Please, do not try to blame him. I would not even be here or be awake, for that matter, if it were not for him.”

Thranduil signed. He never had totally approved of his son’s choice of a best friend. But, at the same time, he didn’t really dislike the human, once he had gotten to know him. He trusted Legolas's judgment, so if he gave credit to Aragorn, then he wouldn’t pursue accusations. “I will have to thank him,” was all he said.

Thranduil leaned forward and kissed Legolas on the forehead. “I am taking you home, but first I am going to find Elrond and get some answers.”

Chapter Nine

Dinner that evening was somewhat subdued. The four elves and one human that sat at the main table in the dining hall were all very happy with the fact that Legolas had finally awakened. It was hard to dampen that euphoric feeling, but the almost somber countenance of the two oldest elves seemed to come close to accomplishing just that. It confused the elven sons of Elrond. On the other hand, Estel’s conviction that Thranduil was taking Legolas home to Mirkwood was easy to understand.

Finally, after a particularly long silent spell, Elrohir asked, “Ada, why are you and Glorfindel so quiet? I know you have to be happy that Legolas is finally back with us.”

Elrond regarded the youngest twin and nodded. “Yes, of course, we are very happy at such an occurrence. It truly is a blessing to have him back.” The joy that Elrond’s words conveyed, though genuine, soon faded, and he fell silent again.

“But?” Estel asked. He had no intention of letting his father off the hook that easily. “Something is wrong. You’ve been hinting at it for several days now, with all your cryptic little remarks. We think it’s time that we knew what is really going on.” It was easy to know who the ‘we’ was he referred to. He stared hard at his foster father.

“I want to know the answer to that myself,” came a strong and obviously unhappy voice from behind Aragorn.

All heads turned to see Thranduil approaching the table. No, one was surprised to see him. They were, however, surprised to see that Legolas walked beside his father. The younger elf was dressed in dark blue leggings and a long light blue silk shirt that almost reached his knees. He wore soft leather shoes. His hair had been pulled back and put into the braids he normally wore. The elf looked slightly paler than usual, but he was not unsteady on his feet. Still, Aragorn made a move to stand up with the intention of offering him help to the table.

Legolas gave a small smile to his friend and waved the ranger off. “I am fine, Estel.” At the ranger’s look of doubt, the elf said, “Really. I am fine.” Aragorn didn’t entirely believe him but decided against making any comment.

Legolas and his father sat down between Elladan and Aragorn, who had moved to make room for them.

The King had not been all that pleased to have his son leave his bed so soon after such a long confinement and try to participate in the forthcoming discussion, but Legolas had once again shown his stubbornness and refused to be left behind.

Legolas’ strategy had been to turn Thranduil’s own words back on him. He had reminded his father that he had just told him he was an adult. As such, the younger elf had said he was fully capable of making his own decisions regarding himself. He had made that decision, and he was going with or without his father‘s permission. End of argument.

Thranduil had no choice but to relent, short of tying his son to his bed. The thought had occurred to the elder elf and may have been acted upon, if he had even the slightest belief it would have worked.

“Elrond, before we get into anything else, I want you to tell me why you took so long to notify me that my son was unconscious and no one knew what was wrong or how to help him. I am his father. I should have been told immediately.” Thranduil’s voice, though low in volume, was angrily accusatory. His eyes, the same blue-gray as his son’s, were blazing.

“It wasn’t my father’s fault,” Aragorn spoke up, knowing that sooner or later, he would have to make that admission. “I was the one who didn‘t want to let you know right away.” He looked evenly at Thranduil. “I wanted to wait until after Legolas woke up.”

Thranduil’s earlier thought of thanking the human for helping his son just went out the door. He turned his cold glare full on the ranger. “I hardly think you did that for my peace of mind. You had no right to make that decision. He is my son!”

“Ada,“ Legolas said. “Please do not do this. Estel did what he thought was best at the time. You know that no one in all of Middle-earth can match Lord Elrond’s healing powers. Estel wanted to give me the best chance to recover.”

“A lot of good that did you,” the King responded, his anger beginning to mount again, though it certainly wasn‘t directed at his son. “He could not do anything for you, could he?”

“I believed he could,” Aragorn said defensively.

Thranduil pointed a finger at the ranger and in a voice as cold as ice, said, “You always get my son into trouble. Stay out of his life.”

Elrond, his own anger flaring, now felt the need to defend his son. “That is unfair, Thranduil. The world is a dangerous place. Our children are always at risk, when they go out into it. Estel and Legolas both accept that risk. Estel has been injured many times, and I have never tried to blame Legolas for any of it.

“No one was more upset by what happened to Legolas than Estel. He stayed with him, feeding him, bathing him, talking to him to try and bring him back. He even put him out on the balcony every day so he could be in the open air and the sunshine. No one did more for him than Estel.

“As for waiting to notify you, I am the Lord of Imladris. The final decision was mine and mine alone. Do not blame my son.” Elrond spoke with a dangerous edge to his tone that matched Thranduil’s own.

As Elrond had spoken, Legolas had looked at his best friend. He had just heard, for the first time, some of the things that Estel had done for him. He couldn’t help but smile and nod. Aragorn returned the smile.

Then, Legolas looked at Thranduil. His expression was hard, though he knew that his father’s anger stemmed from feeling left out. His look softened. “Ada, I told you I am alive and awake because of Estel. He is and always will be a big part of my life. There is no more to be said on that score.” He cocked his head, almost daring Thranduil to continue his criticism of his best friend.

Thranduil knew that any further attack against the ranger was futile and would likely end up in an argument with Legolas. He calmed down, not willing to risk any harsh words with his son. “All right, I will bow once again to your choice of friends, because that is what you want.” he conceded with a sigh, though his tone clearly said he didn’t understand it.

The elven King looked directly into Elrond‘s dark eyes. “I will not pursue what is between us any further---for now. But, know this, Elrond, it is far from finished.”

Elrond nodded. He hadn’t thought for a minute that is was. Thranduil would have the last word on this or any other situation, no matter what. Elrond had learned that much about the woodland King over the centuries.

Thranduil’s eyes never left Elrond‘s. “You were about to answer a question for us.” His voice was cool, but his anger seemed to have passed.

Elrond had known that none of his sons would let the matter of what was going on rest for long. Now that Thranduil and Legolas had joined them, he knew the time had come for answers. He looked toward Thranduil, as if to say, ‘Are you really sure you want Legolas hearing this right now?’

Thranduil, who had picked up on the meaning of the look, nodded. He wasn‘t sure at all, but no one else was going to know that, nor would they know that Legolas was here, because he hadn‘t been able to keep his son away. “Proceed,” he said curtly.

Elrond took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he was about to say. For the moment, he ignored his sons and Legolas and looked directly into the eyes of the woodland King. “Mordraug has returned.”

Thranduil just stared across the table at Elrond. He was taken totally by surprise. The previous angry look on his face had been replaced with...horror. He lowered his head and stared at a spot on the table directly in front of him. Unconsciously, he reached over and took his son’s hand in his. Slowly his head began to shake back and forth. “It cannot be,” he said, not knowing that was the exact same words that Glorfindel had uttered the day before in Elrond’s study.

Legolas asked the obvious question. “Who is Mordraug?” He had the distinct feeling that this Mordraug had something to do with whatever had happened to him. However, the name meant nothing to him and judging by the looks on the faces of Estel and the twins, they didn’t know any more than he did.

Elrond said, “Mordraug is an Avari.”

“An Avari?” Aragorn asked. He had heard tales of these elves, but he had never seen one.

When he expressed this fact, Elrond nodded. “You would not have, Estel. Most Avari disappeared from Middle-earth long before your birth. The few that are left rarely ever have anything to do with the other peoples of Middle-earth.

“As for Mordraug himself, we thought he had been destroyed almost a thousand years ago.” Elrond’s face became a mask, as he attempted to keep it from reflecting his inner turmoil. He never thought he would be discussing this subject ever again.

Elladan said, “The Avari are the ones who never answered the call of the Valar to go to Valinor, right?” He remembered reading about these elves years ago. The details escapted him right then, but he was pretty sure about this fact.

Both Elrond and Glorfindel nodded in unison. Thranduil was still staring at the table. Considering the intensity in his gaze, it was a wonder he didn’t bore a hole right through the polished wood.

“All right,” Aragorn said. “We have all heard or read the stories. The Avari were tuned to the dark paths and often did harm to the other Eldar in earlier times. So, what is it about this Mordraug, in particular, that has the three of you so worried? Is he that evil?”

“Oh, yes,” Glorfindel said. He was trying very hard to keep a tremor out of his voice. What he could not keep out of his voice was pure hatred. He looked at the ranger. “He was one of the worst; mentally twisted beyond recognition. His heart became more corrupted than any orc’s ever could.”

“Ada, what did he do that made him so feared?” Legolas asked. His father hadn’t responded to anything Elrond or Glorfindel had said. The archer frowned, because he had rarely seen his father react this way to anything. He seemed to be lost in a world of remembered pain, and a dread had begun to grow in Legolas’ heart.

The young elf also felt a tiny prickling feeling at the edges of his mind. Had Mordraug been that evil thing in the gray world? He still couldn’t grasp the memory, yet he had to force down the fear that was rising within him. Legolas asked, “What did Mordraug do to the Eldar?”

An expression of dread passed between the Rivendell elf Lords and the King of Mirkwood. It was a look that no one at the table missed.

Elrond took the lead. “Mordraug quite simply wanted to rule the elves of Middle-earth. He started with Greenwood the Great, because he believed that it belonged to him by rights, having been ruled by his uncle in the distant past. Then, Oropher and Thranduil brought their people there and settled among the Silvan Elves. Mordraug was determined to destroy both of them. Oropher was killed in the Battle of Dagorlad during the Last Alliance before Mordraug could act. However it happened, Oropher’s death suited his purpose.”

The elf Lord looked at Legolas, a sympathetic expression in his eyes. “When Thranduil took the throne, Mordraug was more determined than ever to destroy him.” He hesitated a moment.

Aragorn took that opportunity to ask, “How did he plan to do that?”

Glorfindel took up the tale. “Mordraug schemed and planned but never had the right resources at the right time to be able to fulfill his plans. Then, one day in a dry stream bed, he found a clear amber-colored stone that held the tiny body of a black snake inside. He, of course, thought the snake was dead, but he kept the stone, turning it into a medallion, because it was so unique.

“Not too long after that Mordraug was thrown from his horse, and the stone shattered on some rocks. Immediately, the snake began to writhe and grow. When it reached a length of three feet, it crawled up Mordraug’s leg and then wrapped itself around his left arm. It has been there ever since.”

“What does this snake do exactly?” Elrohir asked. He was pretty certain it wasn’t just an ordinary snake. “It surely has to have some kind of special powers.”

Elrond said, “Once it allied itself to Mordraug, it took on his will and did his bidding. It was the elf’s reward for freeing the snake. It‘s poison became infused with Mordraug‘s evil intents. Whatever Mordraug wanted, the snake‘s venom would accomplish.”

“How did it work?” Elrohir wanted to know. He, like everyone else who didn’t know the story, was fascinated.

“The snake’s venom would drive the mind of an elf into darkness and their bodies into unimaginable agonies of fire and ice. Most victims lasted only a few hours and in some cases a few days. But in the end, they all died, because that‘s what Mordraug wanted to happen. The torture they suffered was just a twisted pleasure of his.

“When the poisoned elves were found, their muscles were so contorted they had broken their bones. Their bodies were twisted into horrible disfigured shapes that were sometimes hard to recognize. Their faces reflected the absolute agony their bodies had gone through.” Elrond looked at Legolas, who was staring at him. “Mordraug’s message was delivered.”

“But, he did not kill me,” Legolas finally broke his silence. He was now convinced that Mordraug was behind what had happened to him. “I was not tortured, at least I do not think I was. My body certainly was not broken. Why?”

“Al the others were warnings,” Thranduil said. All eyes turned to him. “He wanted to let me know that he was coming for me. Then he was stopped, for good we had hoped.

“Now, he has chosen you, Legolas, to continue his terror. He wants to keep you alive, so he can be assured that this time I will go to him.”

Aragorn looked at his foster father. “How do you all know these things about Mordraug and his snake?”

Elrond looke back at his human son. “We were all there.”

Chapter Ten

“You and Glorfindel were in Greenwood with Mordraug?” Elladan asked, obviously surprised.

“Yes,” was Elrond’s simple answer. Then, he continued. “When the bodies began showing up, Thranduil asked for help. Glorfindel and I went there, as did Lord Celeborn from Lorien. We spent many a day trying to untangle the mystery of who could be killing the elves of Greenwood. We finally found the murderer, or rather, he found us.”

“He wanted to be found?” Elrohir asked, still fascinated by the story, though the gruesome details were most distasteful and disturbing.

“Mordraug was waiting for us, as we rode with an escort of ten warriors into a forest near Greenwood that none of us had ever been in before. Mordraug simply appeared on the trail in front of us. Incredibly, he was alone. He introduced himself and arrogantly told us his story. He beleived that he and his little pet could easily defeat all of us right then and there and take over not only Greenwood but Imladris and Lothlorien all at the same time. That idea was just too tempting for him to ignore, so that’s why he came forward to meet us.”

“I am assuming that all this happened before Sauron built Dol Guldur,” Elladan said. “Mordraug wouldn’t dare have challenged him.”

“No, I dare say not,” Elrond agreed. “This happened almost fifty years before Dol Guldur.”

Going back to the subject of the evil elf appearing alone, Glorfindel added, “Mordraug also wanted us to know that he needed no army to defeat us. The bastard is beyond arrogant.” The elf practically spit the last sentence out. “He might well have challenged Sauron, thinking he and that snake of his could actually win.”

Elrond made no comment on Glorfindel‘s words. “The snake was loosed among us without warning. It was a dire battle. There was only the one snake, yet it was so fast, it looked and acted like a whole writing mass of them. There were fourteen of us, but we couldn’t kill the thing. The four of us were saved, because our escort protected us. The snake managed to kill all but three of those brave, unselfish warriors.”

Elrond closed his eyes at the memory. “For some unknown reason, Mordraug called the snake back to him, and he disappeared into the forest. We came to the conclusion later, that the snake must have had a limited amount of venom. Too many of our escort were killed, using it up, we assumed.

“We were left to watch as they died in agony, cruelly being twisted and broken in the way I described to you a moment ago, their bodies tortured first with burning fever and then bitter cold---fire and ice. You cannot imagine the horror of watching something like that. And, nothing I did could help them.”

“Their screams will forever haunt my memories,” Glorfindel said, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Those of us not bitten managed to escape, though at the time, it seemed a hollow victory. Mordraug was obviously furious that the four of us got away safely.”

Memories of that day flooded back to Thranduil, as Elrond and Glorfindel relayed the tale. He looked at each of the younger elves and even the human. His gaze finally came to rest on Legolas, as he spoke. "After that, he chose just one elf at a time to kill. We found that odd at first, but then a pattern emerged. Each one killed was closer to me than the one before, until..." The woodland King couldn't finish. An involuntary cry of utter pain and anguish escaped his lips, as he closed his eyes and put one hand over them. His face had paled to match that of his recently ill son.

Legolas looked at Thranduil in bewilderment. He hadn't seen his father crumble this way since his mother's death, even though he had been a small child, when it had happened. He remembered the agony his father had gone through then. He had known from an extremely early age that elves could die of grief, and for a long time, he was terrified his father would do just that.

Legolas's brothers and sisters had assured him their father would not die, but it took Thranduil himself to convince the little elfling that he wouldn’t leave them all without a parent. The elven King believed that it was his children, especially his still growing youngest son, who had saved his life. Without them he knew he would have grieved until he joined his wife in the Halls of Mandos.

As Legolas thought about what his father had just said, his eyes suddenly got wide. "Ada?" When his father didn't answer, Legolas said more desperately, "Ada?" The truth hit him like a physical blow. He pulled his hand free from Thranduil's grasp. He had to grab the edge of the table to keep himself from falling out of the chair he sat upon. "Did Mordraug kill Naneth?" <Mother> His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was filled with horror. The question begged for denial.

When his father continued to say nothing, Legolas began to shake. Thranduil`s failure to answer was all the confirmation the archer needed. Suddenly, anger overcame shock, as he said, “How could you have kept such knowledge from me?” Legolas wanted to run screaming from the room, but he couldn’t move or utter another word. He clutched the edge of the table in an iron grip.

Aragorn and the twins were stunned. None of them had ever heard how Legolas's mother had died, only that she had been killed. And now, to hear that she had died a horrible death at the hands of Mordraug was incredible.

Estel wanted to hug his friend in sympathy and comfort, but he didn't dare. With things suddenly so raw between Legolas and Thranduil, it didn’t seem the right time. But, Aragorn vowed the elf would not go uncomforted for long.

As proud as Thranduil was, he couldn't keep the tears out of his eyes. With his head again lowered, they fell down his face. The memory of the heartbreaking death of his beloved wife had hit him full force. He was also feeling horribly guilty that his son was finding out about his mother's death this way and in front of others. He should have told him years ago. He took his hand away from his eyes and looked at his son. "I wanted to protect you, Legolas. You were so young." It was all Thranduil could get past his lips.

"Protect me? How can keeping the truth from me, protect me? Were you not the one who constantly told me to always tell the truth? You said that, when all was said and done, a person's word was the most important measure of that person’s character."

The woodland King had indeed taught all of his children that and was proud that they had each learned that lesson well. He now felt shame that he had not followed that sage advice himself where his youngest child was concerned.

After a pause, Legolas asked, “Why did you not tell me, when I got old enough to understand? You just told Elrond and Estel that you had a right to know about my condition, well I had a right to know how my mother died.”

“I wanted to tell you, but the time never seemed right. And, then I just wanted to forget how it happened.“ Thranduil looked and felt miserable. He wanted to hold his son and tell him how sorry he was, but he didn’t think Legolas would let him, and he couldn’t bear to be rejected. So, he just sat in misery.

For a long time, no one broke the fragile silence. The twins, though in total sympathy with Legolas, were still anxious to know what had happened to Mordraug to make everyone think he was dead all these years, but they didn’t believe now was the time to ask. It was a question to tuck away until later.

Finally Elrond sighed. He also had a great sympathy for the young prince. Even though he didn’t agree with what Thranduil had done, he did understand it. He knew that Legolas and his father would have to sit down in private and sort all of that out between them.

Now, there was one last thing that Elrond needed to tell the young elf. He didn't want to, especially now after all that had just happened, but it was part of the truth, and he didn’t want to fall into the very trap that had just been exposed.

"Legolas, there is one more thing you need to be told." Despite his determination to continue, Elrond's voice lacked conviction.

After a moment, the young archer looked at Elrond. His eyes weren’t completely focused, giving him a dazed look, like someone who had just been hit in the head but was still partially conscious. There was aslo a deep sorrow there that made the elf Lord cringe. A look of betrayal resided in the blue-gray depths, as well. Elrond could well imagine the young elf’s reeling mind and emotions.

Reluctantly, the Lord of Rivendell realized now was not the time, after all. He would have to do it, when Legolas was better able to understand and handle the news . After everything that had just gone down, how could he tell Legolas that the poison that the snake had injected into him was still in his system and could be activated by Mordraug at any time?

Chapter Eleven

Legolas sat unmoving. His mind was reeling just as Elrond had suspected. Grief exploded in his head, as if his mother’s death had just occurred. And, his father... How could he come to terms with the fact his father had hidden the truth from him for almost all of his life? What must the others think? He shook off the thought. It didn’t matter. They were his friends and would wish only to support him. This he knew.

There were expressions of shock from those around the table, except for Elrond and Glorfindel, who had always known the truth about Legolas's mother. They had been there. alfter all. What they hadn’t known was that the young prince had never been told.

Along with the shock were expressions of deep sympathy. Just as Legolas believed, everyone wanted only to help him cope with the revelation. But, they were at a loss as to how to go about it. Only Thranduil seemed lost in his own thoughts and memories.

Suddenly Legolas could stand it no longer. He had to get away. The elf stood up from the table quickly, pushing the chair back as he rose and almost tipping it over. The scraping noise the chair made as it slid across the stone of the floor was the only sound, and it almost seemed to echo around the large room. Without looking at anyone, the blond elf turned and hurried out of the dining hall.

It wasn’t until he had left the room that he began to run. He paid no attention to where he was going, just letting his feet carry him away, as his subconscious guided him. His soft shoes made not a sound on the carpeted hallway. Walls, doors, furniture and elaborately framed paintings went flying by as he rapidly sped down the corridors.

He half expected to end up in the garden where he could gain comfort from the trees and the flowers that he loved so much. But, to his surprise, he found himself running down the hall toward his room. He would have had to go up two flights of stairs to get there, but he remembered none of it.

Legolas entered his room, closed the door and slid the bolt into the hole in the sturdy door frame. He realized now that’s why he had come here. He could lock himself in and no one could get to him. The garden, while large and comforting, was confined by surrounding stone walls, and he would have been, if not easily found, then certainly eventually so.

Legolas threw himself on his bed. He wanted to empty his overwhelmed mind and numb a body that ached and had become drained of strength. He wanted blessed nothingness to envelop him. But, to his consternation, the shocked, raw feelings remained, and his body shook with emotion.

Yet, through it all, he couldn’t cry.

~*~*~

Downstairs in the dining hall, no one had yet spoken. The silence was beginning to get on Aragorn’s nerves. He felt a great sadness for Legolas, and at that moment, a great dislike, bordering on hatred, for Thranduil, despite the obvious pain the woodland King was in. He decided it was time for the comforting support he was determined to give his friend.

Besides, if he stayed any longer, he knew he would say something that he would later regret, though he couldn’t imagine anything he could possible say that King Thranduil would not have thoroughly deserved. More than anything, he didn’t want things to get any worse between Imladris and Mirkwood because of any careless, heated words spoken by him.

Aragorn finally said, “I’m going to find Legolas.”

Elrond shook his head and regarded his human son with a large measure of sympathy. “I know you want to help him, Estel, but he probably needs to be alone right now.”

“No, Ada. That’s exactly what he doesn’t need. Trust me in this. I know him.” With a sad smile for his brothers at leaving them in the current situation, Aragorn walked out of the room.

He headed directly for the garden, sure that’s where the woodland elf would head in this time of great stress.

Elrond looked at Thranduil, who chose that moment to look up at him. “I know what you are going to say, Elrond. I handled all of this rather badly. I kept the secret about Legolas's mother from him, and now he is terribly upset.” He sighed deeply. “He may never forgive me for this.”

“He will forgive you, Thranduil, though I think he will be hurt and angry for a while to come.” In an effort to give a measure of comfort to the unhappy elven King, he said, “What you did was simply an error in judgment. Legolas will come to understand that.”

“I know my son has a good heart, and a large one, but this involves his mother and what he perceives as betrayal on my part. It may not be so easy for him to forgive, even if he does understand.”

The twins looked at each other and came to the same conclusion at the same time, as they often did. There was obviously no more information forthcoming on Mordraug, and whatever was to happen with Thranduil and their father was none of their business. They decided to leave the three elder elves to their discussion.

“Ada,” Elladan said, “Elrohir and I think it best, if we leave now. We will see you in the morning.”

They each bowed in respect to all present, gave their farewells and left. They made a beeline for Elladan’s room, where they could talk about the recently revealed events.

~*~*~

In Legolas's room, the elf heard his name being called out in the garden. *Estel is looking for me.* He sat up and sighed. When he wasn’t found there, he knew the ranger would be coming to his room. He almost wished he had gone to the stables, gotten his horse and ridden out of Rivendell. But, he knew that would only cause everyone to worry, sending out search parties and fearing for his emotional health. That’s the last thing he wanted to happen. He didn’t want to spread his misery to anyone else. *Even my father*, he thought, as a feeling of sympathy momentarily flashed across his mind. That feeling soon reversed itself. *It would serve him right.* He was far from ready to forgive his father for his deceit. With an effort he pushed all thought of Thranduil from his mind.

Legolas heard his name called several more times and then nothing. He knew Estel would be on his way here, so it was not the least surprising, when a few moments later, he heard a soft knock at the door.

“Legolas, it’s me, Estel. Please open the door.”

There was no answer from the elf. He wanted to be alone, but if he expressed that fact, he was sure it would only encourage Estel to be more determined to try and get in.

“I want to help you, mellon nin. Please let me in.”

Still no response. Aragorn knocked once more. After a silent moment, he put his folded hand up to knock yet again, but this time he paused in mid-air. He opened his hand and placed his palm flat against the wood. “Legolas,” he said softly.

Legolas was determined to be alone, so Aragorn knew that he was evidently not going to gain entrance. He was still convinced that was not the best thing for the elf right then, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. He didn’t feel rejected. He only felt a sadness that he wouldn’t be allowed to try and help the troubled elf.

Just as he turned to leave, he heard the bolt on the inside of the door being pulled back. There was no other sound, and the door did not open. Aragorn cautiously opened it himself and stepped into the room. After quietly closing the door, he reshot the bolt.

Turning around, he was greeted with the sight of Legolas, sitting crossed-legged in the middle of his bed. Severl crystal globes containing burning candles were sitting on tables and cabinets all around the room, emitting a soft golden glow. They had been lit by servants while he was downstairs. It was a nightly ritual they performed for all the residents of Elrond’s house, so no one ever had to return to a dark room. More unlit candles were in evidence, so the room’s occupant could adjust the amount of lighting, as he saw fit.

Silently Aragorn approached the bed. He saw Legolas's shoes sitting by the bed and knew his friend was barefoot, a fact he couldn‘t visually confirm, since the elf‘s feet were tucked under his thighs.

Aragorn took his own shoes off and then climbed on the bed. He seated himself cross-legged in front of the archer with their knees barely touching. It was the only physical contact between them.

In a soft voice, Estel said, “What you just learned about your mother and about your father keeping that from you has to be devastating. I won’t try to tell you that you shouldn’t feel the way you do or that everything is fine. In fact, I won’t say another word, if you don’t want me to.” He hoped the elf would open up and talk to him, but he didn’t think that would happen. He wasn’t disappointed.

All Legolas did was nod. Silence descended between them and lasted for almost half an hour.

Legolas spent most of that time with his head bowed, staring at his hands, which were resting in his lap. He then began tracing the leaf pattern on the bedspread with his finger. After a while of doing this, he turned his head and looked at the balcony for several minutes

Suddenly, he said, “Have you ever noticed that the golden light from a candle will always push the moonlight away but never the other way around?”

Aragorn was only mildly surprised by the subject matter his friend had chosen to comment on. He had had a feeling that, when the elf decided to say something, it wouldn’t be about what was really on his mind. Legolas seemed to have the need to lead up to it, and Estel was going to let him do just that.

The ranger looked out toward the balcony and saw that the candle light was shining out through the doorway rather than the bright moonlight shining into the room. “I never really thought about that, but you’re right. As bright as the moonlight can be, it can never outshine the light that represents the day.”

Legolas made no more comment.

After a few more minutes, the elf looked directly at Aragorn and said, “Mordraug killed my mother, Estel, and she died a horrible death. Then my father, whom I trusted, deceived me, and I never knew any of it. How stupid does that make me?”

“Oh, no,” Aragorn said sharply. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of this. You were too young to know what had happened to your mother. Thranduil is your father. Of course, you would trust him to tell you the truth. It is in no way your fault that he didn’t. You put all that guilt right out of your head.” He reached out and put his hand behind Legolas's neck and shook him gently. “Do you understand me?”

Legolas nodded, but he didn‘t looked too convinced.

Aragorn didn’t think he had ever seen a look of such pain in the archer’s eyes before, and he had been with him during some terrible times. He moved his hand from Legolas's neck and put it back down on his own knee.

“How could my father have not told me something like that? She was my mother.” The tears were so close.

“Let it out, Legolas. It isn’t a weakness, I promise you,” the man assured, knowing how stubbornly independent the elf was. *Please, my friend,* the ranger begged to himself, *let the dam break and ease the pressure in your mind*.

Aragorn’s silent plea was answered. It took only seconds for Legolas to rise up onto his knees. The ranger quickly uncrossed his legs and did the same, enfolding the elf in his arms. He heard not a sound, but Aragorn felt the elf’s slender body shake with wrenching sobs. Rubbing Legolas's back, Estel patiently let his friend’s tears run their course.

After several minutes, the sobbing stopped, but Legolas made no move to disengage himself from the ranger’s grasp. He was so still and quiet, Estel thought for a second that he may have fallen asleep from sheer emotional exhaustion, though he knew it was unlikely. For one thing, the elf’s body was still somewhat tense, not totally relaxed.

Legolas finally pulled away and sat back down, crossing his legs once again. He wiped his tear-stained face with the sleeves of his silk shirt. He turned red eyes on the human. “Thank you, Estel. It seems there is no end to the things you are willing to do for me.”

Aragorn smiled. “I’m happy to do anything I can to ease any burdens you have. You’ve certainly done that for me on more occasions than I can count.”

“That is what friends are for.”

“Exactly,” Aragorn agreed. “Do you feel any better now?”

“I do.”

“Is there anything else you wish to say?”

The elf shook his head. “My father and I will have to get this sorted out. I think we can, but it will be hard. I am not up to dealing with any of it right now. I am very tired.” That was a rare admission from the normally energetic elf.

“I’m not surprised. You look exhausted.” He grinned, as Legolas looked at him with a ‘thanks-so-much’ expression.

Aragorn got up and reached around behind Legolas and pulled the covers down until they reached the elf’s back. “Scoot back.” Legolas did so. He then slid his legs down under the covers. Reaching both hands behind his head, the elf undid his hair in back, leaving the side braids intact. He ran his fingers through his long hair and then shook his head to loosen the silky strands.

After Legolas lay back on the pillow, Aragorn pulled the covers up to his chest. “Sleep,” the ranger commanded, emphasizing the word by pointing his finger at the elf. “We’ll deal with whatever we have to tomorrow.”

Legolas smiled. He had not missed the implication of the ‘we’ in Estel’s comment. He knew beyond a doubt that the man would be with him in whatever was to take place, not just the next day but in the days and weeks to come. It was a comforting thought, because he was well aware of what may lie ahead. In truth, he wasn’t even close to the reality that awaited him.

Aragorn went around the room and blew out all of the candles. By the time he had reached the last one, beside Legolas's bed, the elf’s eyes were closed, a clear testament to his exhaustion. The man put his hand gently on the elf’s head. “Rest well, mellon nin. Do not dream about your troubles.”

Aragorn walked across the room toward one of the chairs near the door. He sat down and glanced to his right. He smiled to himself. Legolas had been right. Now that the candlelight was gone, the moonlight shone in through the balcony doorway.

He didn’t intend to stay there all night. He just wanted to stay long enough to turn away anyone, especially Thranduil, who might knock at the door before the household settled down to sleep. No one was going to disturb his friend this night.

Fifteen minutes later, the ranger was sound asleep.

Chapter Twelve

Legolas stirred slightly, as he slept. Normally, the deep level of exhaustion he had reached would have kept him in a dreamless state. His emotions, though eased by his outpouring as Estel had held him, still ran deep. The intensity of those emotions would not be denied, even in sleep. So, he entered the elven world of dreams and now made the choice to dream about one of the happy times with his mother before she was taken away from him.

A small smile touched his lips as he dreamed of the day his parents had taken him out for his first picnic in the forest away from the palace. He was a young elfling, the equivalent of four in human years. He had felt so grown up, being allowed to roam around the small clearing they had chosen. A blanket laden with food was spread out on the soft green grass. Legolas's siblings, the youngest being almost grown, were not in attendance. He had his parents all to himself.

The three of them were enjoying the wonderful sunny spring day. Legolas, being the curious child that he was, soon became fascinated with a luminescent blue butterfly. He tried to catch the colorful creature, but found that each time he attempted to grab it, it flew just out of his reach. He giggled happily, as he chased it around and around, never quite able to get his hands on the illusive being.

The young elfling never cried or got angry or frustrated. He just kept trying and trying to catch the brilliant blue butterfly. His parents laughed heartily at his antics. His mother’s musical laughter floated all around the clearing, as she watched her young son.

Legolas's golden hair, just reaching his shoulders, flew about his face, as he ran this way and that. Finally, in a move that surprised the elfling, as much as it did his parents, he caught the butterfly in one small hand. He quickly cupped it in both hands, being very careful not to mash it. He ran to his mother and with the love and innocence of a young child, opened his hands and gently lowered it into one of her hands. “For you, Naneth.”

The butterfly did not try to escape but sat on the she-elf’s hand, slowly opening and closing its wings, seemingly secure in the knowledge that it would not be harmed. She held her other hand out to her son and pulled him close to her.

With a smile, she said, “Legolas, this butterfly is a wonderful gift, and I know you gave it to me out of love. But, you know it is a living thing. It belongs in the forest with its own kind, just as you belong with us. You would not want to take it away from its family, would you?”

The elfling looked at his mother and then at the butterfly. His mother knew he understood, when he said, “If we take it away, it will not be able to see its naneth and ada any more, will it?”

“No, Legolas. It will not. So, you know we have to set it free.”

When Legolas hesitated, his father said, “We can bring you back here, so you can see the butterfly again.”

“I can?” the boy said in wonder. He had believed that to set it free meant it would be gone, and he would never see it again.

His mother smiled and nodded, and his father said, “Aye, Little One, you can.”

With delight rather than sadness, the elfling carefully took the butterfly from his mother’s hand and carried it over to a small bush. He set the blue creature down and stood back. Its wings waved several times, and then, it flew away.

Legolas returned to his mother, who hugged him very tight and kissed him on the cheek. When she let him go, he looked up into her sparkling blue-gray eyes. She was so beautiful, and he loved her with all his heart, just as he knew she loved him.

“Naneth,” Legolas called out softly in his sleep.

Then, unbidden, the dream shifted. He was now an adult, sitting on his horse atop a ridge and looking down into a broad valley that contained a lush forest, spreading across the valley floor to the base of high cliffs on both sides. His best friend, Estel, was by his side. The two were alone.

A feeling of foreboding grabbed at the elf’s mind, as he stared down at the forest. The thick canopy of trees was broken in a few places, revealing a trail on the right side and another on the left near the tree line. The left trail appeared to head straight toward the open pass at the end of the valley, which was also on the left side. It looked to be an easy trip to traverse down the left side of the forest and out of the valley. So, what was there about this forest that made him so uneasy?

Legolas shook his head. “I do not like this.”

“I know this valley,” the ranger said reassuringly. “The forest is thick and rather dark, but we can travel through it in a day. We can camp tonight and easily be out by this time tomorrow afternoon.

“Once we leave the valley,” Aragorn continued, “it’s only eight more days travel to your father’s palace. As you already saw, when we approached, those cliffs are so wide that to go around them on either side would add at least three days to our trip. Your father’s expecting you for that council meeting in ten days with those ambassadors he‘s expecting. He wouldn’t react kindly, if you missed it. He‘d blame me---as usual.”

Aragorn looked at his elven friend, expecting some humorous comment, but none was forthcoming. The expression on the elf’s face hadn’t changed from the look of concern the ranger had seen there, since they had first reached the top of the ridge.

After what seemed like many moments of silence, Aragorn said, “Legolas?”

Hearing his name seemed to bring the blond-haired elf back to himself. “What?”

“You were lost for a minute. What do you sense?”

“Nothing I can put my finger upon.” He smiled and shook his head, seeming to banish the dark thoughts that filled his mind. “Let us go. Whatever we encounter, I am sure we can handle it.” With a laugh, he added, “I have a ranger with me, after all.”

“You most certainly do,” Aragorn agreed, adding his own laugh to that of his friend. He wasted no time in urging his horse forward. The man felt confident in what he had just said about getting quickly and easily through the forest. Yet, he also trusted his elven friend’s instincts, so he decided to keep a sharp eye out for any trouble that might find them, which seemed to be the normal way with them.

All traces of humor faded from Legolas's countenance, as he followed his friend down from the ridge and into the forest. His feeling of foreboding did not lessen, as the leaf-laden branches closed in over his head. He had been right when he told Aragorn he couldn’t put his finger on what was causing his concern. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He felt sure, though, that it wasn’t the possibility of orcs or wargs or other such fell creatures that was making him uncomfortable. This uneasiness had a different feel to it.

They hadn’t gone a hundred yards into the forest, when Legolas stopped his horse and focused his hearing, listening intently but detecting no unusual sounds. Neither did his keen eyes pick up any unnatural movement. Yet, the uneasy feeling remained. Even the trees were strangely quiet, seemingly whispering to themselves but saying nothing to him. That was a little unsettling for a wood elf, though it did not necessarily mean there was anything wrong. Trees did not always chatter to him everywhere he went.

“Do you hear or see anything amiss?” Aragorn asked. He had watched Legolas lift his legs up and then pull himself up onto his knees, easily balancing on the stallion’s back. From this added height, the elf surveyed the surrounding trees. Seeing his friend sit back down and shake his head did nothing to ease Estel’s mind. He clearly saw that the elf’s tense muscles hadn’t relaxed any.

“No,” the elf finally had to admit, obviously unhappy that he couldn‘t solve the puzzle. “All seems as it should be. Even the sounds of the birds and small animals appear normal.” Those animals didn’t seem to be the least bit wary of the forest, so Legolas dismissed any significance to the trees’ lack of communication with him.

Aragorn nodded and again started forward.

Legolas's horse snorted loudly, flaring his nostrils and flattening his ears against his head, all signs that the animal was fearful. That only confirmed Legolas's concerns. If possible, the elf’s senses heightened even more. Yet, try as he might, he could not detect anything that seemed in the slightest outside the norm. He calmed his mount with a few elvish words spoken softly and accompanied by an elven hand stroking the arched neck. It appeared to work, as the stallion moved smoothly forward, though his muscles, too, were tense.

After several silent moments, the two friends came to a fork in the road. Legolas automatically started down the path to the left while Aragorn didn’t hesitate in heading to the right.

The ranger stopped when he realized that Legolas was no longer beside him. He looked around and saw the elf moving down the left pathway. “It’s this way,” the ranger informed his friend.

“That is the wrong path,” Legolas contradicted. “The pass that leads out of the other end of the valley is to the left, right where this path leads.” Growing up in a forest and learning to find his way there had given the elf a sense of direction even more acute than the normal one elves possessed, so he was certain about what he said.

“Have you ever been in this forest before?”

“No, I have not.”

“Well, I have. The path we take is this way.” He pointed to the right. “The left path may seem shorter and straighter, but it actually winds around so much, it’ll take hours more to get where we want to go.” He looked at Legolas. “Trust me.”

Legolas did trust the ranger. So, he nodded and turned his horse to the right. With a great show, he swept his arm forward, indicating that his friend should lead the way. He waited until Aragorn had tuned his attention away before looking back down the left path. He still believed that was the way they should be going. But, his friend thought otherwise, and since the man had been there before, the elf said no more.

Once they began moving again, Legolas forced his concerns to the side, though his senses remained on full alert. He moved up beside the ranger, and the two continued in silence.

Legolas noted that the path they were on was indeed relatively straight, angling ever so subtly to the left. “You were right, Estel. This path seems to be heading straight for the pass.”

Aragorn coughed rather loudly. “What was that you said?” He emphasized his words by putting a finger in his left ear and jerking it up and down. “Say again? I don‘t think I heard correctly.” He had to work hard to keep from laughing.

The elf adopted a look of exasperation. “Yes, Estel. You heard correctly. I said you were right about the path.”

“I think I should take note of today’s date. Wait while I write it down.”

“Exaggerating a bit, are we not?” the elf asked.

“Are you kidding? You never admit you’re wrong.”

“Not true,” Legolas said defensively. “Not true at all.”

“Are you going to sit there and deny that you possess a stubborn streak as wide as the Anduin, not to mention pride beyond belief?”

“Me?” Legolas, raising both eyebrows, replied in his most innocent tone of voice.

“Yes, you. You’re the subject under discussion at the moment.”

Legolas said haughtily, “I think I am rather level-headed and quite practical.”

“You talk to trees!”

Legolas looked indignant. “All Wood elves talk to trees. That does not mean that I am not practical,” he declared firmly.

It was Aragorn’s turn to raise his eyebrows. He added a hearty laugh. “All right, let’s go back into history a bit, shall we? Two years ago, summer time. We were in southern Mirkwood. Elladan and Elrohir were with us. We had just setup camp, when we were attacked by orcs. Remember that?”

Legolas reluctantly nodded. He was sure he knew where this was going, and he knew it wasn’t going to win him any arguments.

Aragorn took great amusement from the look of dread on the archer’s face. He continued undaunted. “After a fierce battle, we were all four banged up to varying degrees. I seem to recall that you had a deep sword wound in your side and a bone-revealing gash on your thigh. Before realizing just how bad your wounds really were, I asked how you were doing. Do you remember what you told me?”

Legolas knew to the word what he had said to the ranger. But now, he just stared at his friend, looking for all the world like someone who hadn’t the vaguest idea what the man could be talking about. It didn’t fool the man in the slightest.

“You stood right in front of me and said, ‘I am fine, Estel. You do not need to worry about me.’ Then, ten seconds later you collapsed and almost bled to death before Elladan, Elrohir and I could patch you up. Now, tell me your declaration of well-being was not stubborn pride. And, that’s hardly the only time something like that has happened, and you know it.”

The elf stared a moment longer, and then with a huff urged his horse into a gallop. “This human must be crazy,” Legolas muttered, as he rode away. It didn’t matter that this human was also completely accurate in his retelling of the tale.

The ranger watched as his friend left rather than remaining to argue further. “That means I’m right, doesn’t it?” Aragorn called out to the elf‘s quickly disappearing back. As expected, he received no answer, so he just sighed and moved to catch up with the Mirkwood prince.

Chapter Thirteen

Legolas's dream was following the exact series of events, as they had played out in reality. He shifted in the bed, feeling that something might be coming that he hadn’t been able to remember. Perhaps, the dream would reveal to him what had happened to him in those woods. That thought made him shiver. He unconsciously slid down deeper under the covers, like a child who feared a monster was coming. He might have pulled the covers up over his head, if he’d known how right he was.

The elf, though apprehensive, let his mind continue with the dream. He had to know what had befallen him.

~*~*~

As he and Estel traveled down the path, the sun began to sink down below the cliff tops, plunging the forest into a light gloom that deepened with each passing minute. The sounds all around the two friends began shifting to those of the night. The day creatures were heading for their places of rest and safety, as the night hunters prepared to came out to begin their search for prey. Those prey, in turn, would soon use the darkness to hide their presence, as they hunted for their own food.

A large brown owl suddenly swooped down from the trees and flew across the path several yards in front of the riders. Wings spread wide, it silently glided toward a spot to the right. Extending its legs out in front of its feathered body, the bird spread its talons. The owl’s aim was deadly. It barely slowed, as it grabbed an unfortunate furry creature and then disappeared back into the leafy canopy., The screech of triumph echoed through the trees and then died away, as the winged hunter landed on a sturdy branch and began to devour its meal.

“That poor thing had no chance,” Aragorn commented.

“No, it did not.” Legolas looked at his friend. “One must die so another may live and feed their young. To be born and then killed by someone more powerful or cunning is often the cycle of life in this world.” He refrained from saying it was the cycle of mortal life. Yet, the fact that even immortal elves could be killed sometimes made them a small, though reluctant, part of that mortal cycle.

After a few moments of pondering the inevitabilities of mortality, Aragorn said, “I think we should stop and make camp. There’s a stream not far from here, in that direction.” He pointed to the right.

Legolas nodded, having heard the water rushing over the rocks of the stream bed half a mile back. He turned off the path and headed for it. He quickly scanned the area both upstream and down beside the flowing water before picking a spot that had an opening in the thick canopy of trees. Whenever he was the one to choose a campsite, he tried to make it in a place where he could look at the stars without having to climb to the top of a tree to do it. He often needed to be on the ground to patrol the perimeter of a campsite and be close in case of danger.

By the time they had dismounted, moonlight was shining into the little clearing. The moon was only half full, so there wasn’t as much light as they would have preferred in this dark forest, but at least, there was light enough to see by.

Legolas turned to Aragorn. “Do we make a fire?”

“Yes. It’s safe enough. I’ve never seen any signs that orcs have ever even been in this forest.”

“There are other dangers besides orcs,” the elf reminded his companion.

“I know. Don’t worry,” Estel grinned, “I won’t let any big brown owls come and carry you away.” He laughed and slapped the archer on the back. He began looking around for some wood to build the fire. They hadn’t been able to have one for the last three days, in an effort to escape notice from unfriendly eyes---or noses. It would be nice to enjoy the warmth a blaze would provide. It was springtime, but the nights were still rather chilly. Of course, that didn’t effect Legolas, something the elf was fond of reminding his friend.

Legolas, as usual, tended the horses. He removed the packs, throwing Estel’s to him and dropping his own nearby. He took the saddle and bridle off of the ranger’s dark brown stallion and then removed the soft leather bridle from his own horse. He never used a saddle. Both horses followed him down to the stream and drank their fill. In the elven tongue, Legolas told them to eat all the grass they wanted but to stay close. They both nickered softly, as he stroked their necks and then pushed them away, gently slapping both on their rumps. The elf retuned to the clearing.

Aragorn was sitting down and looking through his pack. After a seemingly fruitless search, he slammed the pack down on the ground. “I don’t believe this,” he wailed.

Legolas stared at him. “What is it you do not believe?” He couldn’t imagine what the man was so upset about. Then, he said, “Did you use up all your pipe weed?” Anyone who knew Aragorn, knew how much he loved his pipe. Legolas hated the foul weed, but he didn’t begrudge Estel his enjoyment of it.

“No. I forgot to replenish the lembas.” He sighed loudly in exasperation. “This morning we finished off the last of the food we purchased two weeks ago, and now with no backup food there’s nothing to eat.”

Legolas burst out laughing. “An unprepared ranger. I wonder how Elladan and Elrohir will react to that piece of news.”

Aragorn pointed his finger at the elf and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare say one word to them about this. I couldn’t bear to hear about this for the rest of my days. And, you know that’s exactly what will happen.” There was a look of dread on his face.

“I will have to think about it.” Legolas paused and rubbed his chin, frowning in thought. “I am sure there is something you can do for me to buy my silence.”

“Buy your silence?” Aragorn squawked. “Why you backstabbing son of a....”

“King is the word you are looking for,” Legolas supplied smugly. He had the ranger in a bind, and he intended on making the most of it. “We can discuss a ‘deal’ at a later time.” He grinned wickedly. “Perhaps now, you should make us something on which to cook dinner.”

Aragorn just glowered at him. “What dinner?”

The elf took pity on the poor mortal, but not so much that he stopped himself from laughing again. "We are in a forest, Estel, there is food all around us.” He shook his head. “I will get us something to eat. Do not worry. You will not starve. You just tend to your little fire." His tone was patronizing but held a large measure of amusement.

Aragorn felt slightly foolish. No, he felt very foolish. He had been so angry with himself about the lembas that the idea of hunting for food had simply not entered his head. How ridiculous was that? No wonder Legolas was so amused and threatening to tell his brothers about this whole sorry incidenr. It was such a little thing really, yet he groaned inwardly to think again of what those twin terrors would do with that knowledge. They could take the smallest, most innocent of happenings and turn it into something that resembled a catastrophe. In the end, though, the ranger couldn’t help but laugh at himself.

Legolas had taken a few steps back and crossed his arms over his chest. He was watching, as Aragorn took several of the sturdy sticks he had gathered and began trimming them down. When he had finished, he took three of them, crossed them near the ends with a leather strip so that they formed a triangle. He did this with another set of three sticks. He set each pair on opposite sides of the fire. He got another branch that was long enough to reach each set of sticks. Whatever Legolas came back with would be skewered on the top stick, laid across the end pieces and roasted over the fire. The man’s mouth began to water just thinking about it.

“Well?” Aragorn asked, when he looked up and saw the elf just standing there, staring at him. “I thought you were long gone. Did you decide you lacked the skills to find something for us to eat?”

Legolas snorted. “As if that is ever going to happen,” he muttered so low he couldn’t be sure if Aragorn heard him or not. In a normal voice, he said, “I wanted to wait and see what you were going to make, so I would know what to catch.“ Eyeing the structure critically, he said, “A rabbit, I think.” With that declaration, he disappeared soundlessly into the dark forest.

The elf unslung his bow and fitted an arrow to it, as he headed away from the camp. He would be ready to down any edible creature that made its presence known to the elf’s keen senses.

Since he had mentioned a rabbit to Estel, he was hoping that was what he would be able to find and triumphantly bring back. He wasn’t above trying to get the best of his friend whenever the situation presented itself, providing the circumstances allowed for humor and were not overly serious in nature. To this end, he stopped every few yards to focus on the sounds around him.

Despite the recent humorous exchanges between himself and Estel the foreboding Legolas had been feeling was far from gone, but right now, beyond being alert to danger, he knew he had to concentrate on the immediate goal of finding something for dinner. He was not going to spend time trying to find a rabbit to the exclusion of any other food source.

The darkness wasn’t total yet, so his elven eyes pulled in all the bits of light that were available, making the surrounding forest appear to him as early twilight. It was only in absolute darkness, with no light to draw from, that the elf’s vision was rendered as useless as a mortal’s was in the darkness of an ordinary night.

Moving swiftly and yet with confidence in the unfamiliar forest, Legolas approached a particularly dense grouping of trees. After taking several more steps forward, he stopped suddenly.

Hearing something behind and slightly to the right of him, he turned around in time to see a large white rabbit scamper across his line of sight, moving right to left. Legolas grinned. It would indeed be rabbit for dinner.

The creature, running full tilt, disappeared behind the closest tree before the archer could fire. Legolas frowned that even with his incredible elven speed, he couldn’t get a shot off in time to bring it down. With a determination that this creature was not going to get away, he started after it.

Legolas was running after the rabbit as fast as he could go between the trees. He was as nimble as the rabbit and kept the little creature in sight but couldn’t stop long enough to aim his bow. The trees were too close together and allowed no opening for him to get a decent shot away. He tried that once and lost the rabbit for a moment before his keen sight picked up movement several yards father along. He kept his bow armed by firmly holding the arrow in place with his forefinger, as he gripped the bow in his left hand. He ran on.

Suddenly, the elf came around a large oak and saw a small clearing in front of him. He slowed and raised his bow before even spotting the rabbit. Then, he saw that the creature was just about to dash behind a tree on the other side of the clearing, when the archer fired. A direct hit.

He walked over to the fallen creature. Thoughts of roasted rabbit came to mind, and he smiled. Maybe, on the way back to camp he could spot some mushrooms or perhaps some edible berries to accompany the meat. He had hardly had the time to survey his surroundings for delicacies while dashing after the rabbit.

Just as Legolas started to reach down and pick the rabbit up, he stopped. His intuitive senses were now screaming at him that something was wrong---terribly wrong. The feeling was so strong, he couldn’t stifle a sharp intake of breath.

Before he could do more than register the feeling of intense dread that struck him full force, there was a noise behind him. He whirled around and was greeted by a flash of light in front of him that was so bright he had to turn his head away and put his right arm up to shield the painful assault on his eyes.

~*~*~

As he slept, Legolas felt very strongly that there was something frightening in or beyond the bright light that had flashed in front of him. He was poised on the very edge of finding out what that was. He knew it would take strength of will on his part to face it, but he was a warrior, one of the Firstborn, so he would meet this unknown terror with as much courage and dignity as he could muster.

The light vanished and to his utter surprise, he stared into---darkness. He frowned in frustration. Was the darkness part of what had really happened or was it just his own mind, afraid to reveal the truth about his experience in the forest. If it was the latter, it must have been something truly terrifying for his mind to hide that knowledge from the consciousness of someone as strong as he was.

Legolas clenched his fists, gripping the bed linen tightly in both hands. He found himself experiencing a fear he had never known before, and that alone frightened him even more.

Chapter Fourteen

Like someone searching a deep black cave without a torch, Legolas's mind cast itself through the darkness, probing relentlessly. The truth was there. He was sure of it, and he was determined to find it.

As he continued to search, a light appeared in the far distance. Then, without warning he felt himself being propelled forward at an alarming rate until he suddenly burst into the light.

~*~*~

The brilliance faded leaving only a soft glow, and Legolas found himself in the same clearing where he had shot the rabbit. With his elven sight, the clearing now appeared almost as bright as would a cloudy day under the trees. To confirm to himself that he was in the same place he remembered, he looked down to see the rabbit lying on the ground in the same spot where he had last seen it.

Feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise, he looked up and saw a strange elf, dressed all in black, standing several feet from him. He had never seen this individual before nor had he seen any elf that looked remotely like him. The elf had black hair and black eyes to match. Even his skin was darker than any elf Legolas had ever seen. He knew immediately that this was no ordinary elf.

Because of the black clothing, it took Legolas several moments of close head to toe examination of the elf before he noticed the black snake wrapped around the stranger's left arm. With its head resting on the back of the elf's hand near the base of his fingers the whole thing gave the appearance of being a large elaborate bracelet. Legolas couldn't tell if it was real or not.

The dark elf, who had waited patiently for Legolas to finish his examination, now smiled. "I see you have noticed my pet. Beautiful, is he not?"

*So, it is real,* Legolas thought. Ignoring the question about the snake, he dragged his eyes from the serpent and moved them up to the other elf's face. There was something in those black eyes that Legolas didn't trust. He wasn't sure what it was, but he kept his guard firmly in place. "Who are you?"

Deciding, for the moment, to humor the young elf by answering his question, the dark one said, "My name is Mordraug." He waited for a reaction, but when none was forthcoming, he said, "Have you not heard of me?" He watched closely to see if Legolas was making an effort to hide any recognition he might have had.

The archer shook his head. "No. Should I have?"

*So, Thranduil has not told his son about me and what happened in Greenwood, when this one was just an elfling.* Mordraug knew that no matter where this conversation led, he would have the immense pleasure of revealing the truth to this Thranduilion. To Legolas, he said, "I thought perhaps my old friend, Thranduil, might have told you about me."

Legolas's curiosity had suddenly peeked. He couldn't help but be aware of a prickling feeling in the back of his mind. "You know my father?"

"Thranduil and I go a very long way back. I have not seen him in many centuries. How does he fare?"

The remarks and the question sounded innocent enough, almost friendly, but Legolas's instincts were telling him that all was not as it seemed. For one thing, he felt an unexplained stab of fear at the mention of his father. Also, he wondered if this elf was the reason for the uneasiness he had been experiencing, since first laying eyes on this forest. He asked, "How do you know who I am?"

Mordraug laughed. "I know a great many people and a great many things."

That enigmatic reply didn't exactly answer Legolas's question. He decided not to pursue that subject for now. The blond elf decided instead to try and get some information from this elf and see where it led. Therefore, in a neutral tone, he said, "My father is well. Did you often visit Mirkwood?"

"Ah, I had forgotten that the name has changed. It was called Greenwood the Great, during my times there."

"That was indeed a very long time ago---before Dol Guldûr." It was Legolas's turn to observe the other elf's face. He was looking for a reaction to the mention of one of Sauron's strongholds, even though almost twenty years ago the Necromancer had been driven out by the forces of the White Council and was now rebuilding Barad-dûr in northwest Mordor.

Taking a chance that his next remark might be offensive, he said, "I am sure my father would have mentioned you, if the two of you had truly been friends." Did he see a quick flare-up of anger in the other elf’s dark eyes? He pressed on. "Where have you been for all these centuries that you have lost touch?"

A shadow crossed Mordraug's face at the question. His dark eyes flashed in anger once again. The elder elf took a deep breath. He didn’t want to let this young elf bait him, even if it might be unintentional, though Mordraug figured that as Thranduil’s son, the prince would likely be both intelligent and clever.

Then, he thought *Why not? Let us get everything out in the open.* That decision made, the Avari said, "I was forced into seclusion---by your father." With a snarl, he added, "He is the reason I have been gone from this land for almost a thousand years!" His voice rose, as he made this last declaration.

Legolas immediately tensed even more, seeing that the pretense at friendliness was gone. This elf was definitely what he had been dreading. His fear began to rise, and fear for his father was increasing accordingly. Revenge was in the dark elf's manner. Legolas could read that as clearly as if Mordraug had actually said the words.

Legolas's eyes widened when the snake, who had until now been inert, lifted up and hissed, sending its forked tongue flicking rapidly in and out of its mouth. It hissed again and swayed slightly, seeming to dislike the aroma that it was encountering with its sensitive tongue. Had the scent of honor and goodness upset the creature?

Too late, Legolas heard a noise behind him. Before he could turn around to see what it was, hands on both sides of him grabbed both of his arms and pinned them firmly to his sides. He tried to pull free but his struggles went for naught. Attempting to kick his captures only resulted in both arms being painfully squeezed and twisted until he was forced to stop struggling. He looked to each side, noting that both beings who held him were orcs much larger than he was. He chided himself for being so distracted by the snake that he hadn't heard the less than graceful orcs approach him. He was sure that Mordraug had counted on just that.

Finally, realizing he was not going to get loose, Legolas ignored the orcs and turned his own anger toward the dark-haired elf in front of him. Much to his consternation, his anger was tempered with a fear that was stronger than he could ever remember feeling before, from orcs such as these or from the giant spiders that inhabited southern Mirkwood. Even wargs had never frightened him so. He fought hard to control the trembling that began to invade his body. He knew he hadn't been successful, when he heard both orcs laugh. It was obvious they were taking pleasure in his fear.

Mordraug walked up closer to Legolas. He stared into the younger elf's blue-gray eyes. "Your father rules the forest realm that should have been mine. He tried to destroy me, when I went to Greenwood to reclaim it. He stole it from me."

"He stole nothing from you or anyone else. My father rules because he was Oropher’s heir. You have no right to our land." Fear was not keeping this prince from having his say. He had never run from anything in his life, and he wasn't about to start now. For the moment, anger overrode the fright he felt.

"You know nothing," Mordraug declared dismissively. "Oropher took what did not belong to him. He was killed, a death much too easy for him. I tried to kill Thranduil, but the coward brought his powerful friends and warrior guards to protect him."

"My father is not a coward!" Legolas's voice rose in anger. He took several breaths to calm himself. He didn't want to lose control in front of this elf. It wasn't just pride that made him repeat what he had said much more quietly. "My father is not a coward." He couldn't afford to antagonize this dark elf into doing something drastic. It was just too dangerous, though in truth, he believed that Mordraug’s course of action had already been well planned.

"I would expect you to defend him. You learned at his knee, did you not? Nevertheless, I know the truth." Mordraug's calmness was derived from the fact he totally believed what he was saying, not to mention that he certainly had the upper hand in this current situation.

Again the snake began to hiss and flick its tongue. Mordraug smiled. It was a cold smile, completely devoid of warmth. "He likes you," the dark elf said in a deceptively silky voice, stroking the serpent's head affectionately. "Perhaps, the two of you should get to know each other better." Mordraug moved even closer to the blond archer. There was a palpable evil that emanated from the pair.

Legolas clenched his teeth. His instinct was to move backwards, away from the hideous reptile, but he forced himself to remain in place. His heart may be full of trepidation, but he didn't want to display it to the elf he faced. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that he remembered he couldn`t have moved if he tried.

The younger elf's attempt at bravery didn't fool Mordraug, as he said, "I see you fear my pet." With a level gaze, he added in a tone so cold, it almost froze Legolas where he stood. "You should fear him." Those words sent shivers down Legolas's spine.

"Thranduil will soon suffer an agonizing death. Too bad you did not see the others die, like...." Mordraug was clearly going to say more but stopped short. He decided he would save that bit of news for a later time. "If you had watched them writhe and heard them scream, you would truly know terror beyond comprehension. When you die, Thranduil will suffer such an agonizing loss of one more he loves before he also dies. You, my little prince, will bring him to me, to watch you die and meet his own end."

Had ice fallen from Mordraug's lips or frosty air poured forth on his breath, Legolas would not have been surprised. The words were spoken with a cold hatred that seemed to chill the air around them.

What had this dark elf meant when he said that Thranduil will suffer such an agonizing loss of one more he loves? Legolas's first thought was of his mother. But, what had her death to do with Mordraug? The archer didn't understand, so he concluded there was no connection.

The snake hissed yet again, and Legolas turned his attention back to it. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the serpent so close to his face. Ridiculous as it seemed, the snake looked as though it was smiling at him, imitating its master, the look in its eyes just as frigid. An involuntary shiver went down Legolas's spine once more. At that moment, he felt more fear for his father than he did for himself. "I will never betray my father," Legolas finally said in defiance to the dark elf.

"I think you have no choice in the matter. Your father will come to me to try and save you, but his pathetic attempt to do so will be in vain."

Legolas tried to analyze Mordraug's plan and come up with a plan of his own to stop the evil elf before he could make good on his intentions. Legolas's heart fell, because he knew there was truly nothing he could do to intervene. Nothing in all of Middle-earth would keep his father from coming to save him, and they would both die horribly, or so Mordraug had said, and the archer had no reason to doubt him.

The Avari looked up at the orcs that held Legolas tightly in their grasp. He nodded his head toward them.

While one orc moved behind Legolas and pulled his arms around so that he alone could hold their captive, the other orc grabbed Legolas's jaw and jerked it down and quickly shoved his fingers in each corner of the elf's mouth and held it open. The very thought of the foul creature's fingers in his mouth made Legolas's stomach lurch. He almost gagged. He tried to bite down on the claw-like fingers but couldn't quite manage it. The attempt brought a painful squeeze on both of this arms from the orc that held him from behind.

Legolas was terrified. He didn't know, at first, what Mordraug was going to do. He tried to jerk his head away, but as was the case with his arms, it was held firmly in place. He couldn't imagine why his mouth was being held open like this. His mind reeled, and his heart pounded, as it raced within his chest. His breathing became shallow and rapid.

Legolas knew that the vile reptile was not there just to intimidate him. He was certain it was poisonous, and he was just as certain that he was going to get bitten. After all the years as a warrior fighting in numerous battles, defending his home, family and friends, was he now about to die from a snake bite? The thought was ludicrous, so his mind tried to reject it. It didn't work.

The snake unwound the top portion of its body from Mordraug's arm and extended its head toward the elf. Hissing loudly, it flicked its tongue against Legolas's face.

The elf was repulsed by the touch of the forked tongue that felt like cold, wet leather on his skin. He clenched his eyes tightly shut, knowing he couldn't move out of the serpent's reach. It continued to flick its tongue, up and down his neck, along his jaws and cheeks, across his forehead and along the edge of one of his sensitive ears and even over his closed eyes. That alone made the elf cringe in revulsion. But, it wasn't until its tongue flicked into his open mouth and touched his own tongue with its cold, wet one that nausea came close to overwhelming him. However, he knew he would most likely only end up choking himself, so with a monumental effort, he forced the nausea down to a manageable level.

Suddenly, the flicking stopped. Legolas waited a moment and then slowly opened his eyes. He was greeted by the sight of the snake staring at him with its unblinking yellow eyes. It began to move side to side, undulating, as it rose higher into the air. It's movements were slow and hypnotic, its head moving in counterpoint to its swaying body. Side to side. Right to left and back again. Legolas was so mesmerized that he couldn't have taken his eyes off of it had he been suddenly set free and told to run.

When the snake was as high as it could get while still keeping the back half of its body wrapped firmly around Mordraug’s arm, its eyes flashed with an eerie red inner glow, and then it lunged down at the young elf’s face.

In a lightning strike that was no more than a black blur, the serpent's sharp needle-like fangs embedded themselves in the soft tissue under Legolas's tongue. His eyes went wide with pure terror, as he felt a fiery liquid being injected into his flesh. *This cannot be happening! Dear Elbereth, please, help me!*

He tried to scream, but only a gurgling sound came out. Yet, in his mind the screaming was full blown and continuous. He thought his heart would stop, and right then, he wasn't so sure he didn't wish it to do so.

The serpent withdrew its fangs, folding them back against the roof of its mouth. It moved backwards, slithering slowly, as it wrapped its body back around the dark elf's arm. The serpent lowered itself so that only its head was raised. It continued to stare at the woodland elf.

The sharp pain from the snake's bite intensified, causing Legolas's whole mouth to feel like it was on fire. But, he had no defense against it, nor against the venom he knew was now beginning to course through his veins. His whole body shook violently, as somewhere in a distant, detached part of his brain he again wondered if this was the way he was going to die.

*Ada!* Legolas was calling for salvation from the one person he had counted on his entire life. The silent cry went unheard.

Mordraug couldn't help but laugh at the distress of the young Mirkwood prince, son of the elven king he despised. The dark elf had waited a very long time for this portion of his revenge. It pleased him to see such pain and terror and to know that it was he and his pet, who had caused it. How delicious this was.

However, torturing this young one was not his main goal, so the joy he felt, as great as it was, would only be complete, when Thranduil watched the body of this beloved youngest child being twisted and deformed in excruciating agony until it was unrecognizable, just as it had happened with his mother all those centuries ago. Then finally, seeing Thranduil die that same way would be the crowning glory to his years of rage, frustration and planning. How delicious that would be.

Mordraug had waited almost two millennia for his opportunity, and it was now within his grasp. He licked his lips, as he savored the anticipation of his ultimate revenge. *Oh yes, that will be worth waiting for.*

On a silent command from Mordraug, the orcs let go of Legolas, but the young elf did not fall. He felt as if his body was suspended in midair. Everything began to swim around him, swirling in waves of distortion. Had he not known better, and he really couldn't be sure of anything at this point, he would have believed he was looking at the world through a curtain of moving water. Was he the one actually moving or was the world the one that was spinning? He didn't have the answer nor, at that moment, did he have the mental capacity to figure it out.

The last thing the Wood elf heard was Mordraug's almost hysterical laughter accompanied by the hissing of the snake. Both sounds fused together and echoed through his mind.

Legolas suddenly felt himself being propelled rapidly again, only this time he was moving backwards, away from the light that was swiftly fading into the distance. He was soon greeted again by total darkness.

Then, his shattered mind shut down and all awareness ceased.

Chapter Fifteen

Aragorn woke up just as the first rays of the rising sun peeped over the far garden wall. The golden light shone into the room through the balcony doorway. It was faint at first but it quickly grew in intensity. The man was in shadow, and it took a moment for him to get his bearings.

His first cognizant thought was that he was not in a bed. He glanced around him and saw that he was slumped down in a green and white brocade chair. It was one of the chairs in Legolas's room. He had obviously never made it to his own room last night.

His next realization was that he ached. He shook his head and laughed softly. He was a ranger, used to spending the night in conditions far worse than a soft chair, yet his body ached all over. He decided it was because he hadn’t been able to really lay out flat. Sitting up on the edge of the chair, he now languidly stretched his muscles out, arms, legs, and back, groaning as he did so. He even stretched the fingers on both hands. All of this was accompanied by several huge yawns.

Looking toward the large bed, he was fully expecting to see Legolas, lying where he had last seen him. The bed was empty, which brought a frown to the man’s face. The elf should have still been sound asleep, considering how exhausted, both physically and emotionally, he had been the night before.

Aragorn decided that his friend must have gone down for an early breakfast and hadn’t wanted to disturb him. *Ever the considerate elf,* Aragorn mused. *I’ll go join him.* He briefly wondered if Thranduil would be there. He decided to hurry, in case Legolas needed him for moral support, though he knew he really needed to let the father and son work out their problem in private. That last thought didn’t slow him down any, though. Besides, breakfast in the dining hall could hardly be considered private.

Aragorn headed for the door. When he pushed down on the handle, he was expecting the door to open and himself to continue on through. Instead, he slammed up against the hard wood, causing a painful surprise. The door hadn’t budged. He rubbed his throbbing nose, as he found that the the door was still bolted. Even a clever elf like Legolas couldn’t bolt a door front he outside. Turning back around, he now made his way to the balcony. That was the only other place the elf could be.

As he emerged onto the balcony, now drenched in early morning sunshine, he saw no evidence of Legolas's presence there. He turned and looked to the left where the wooden flower box, containing Legolas's favorite blue flowers, stood. No elf there. He then looked to his right. No elf there, either.

Puzzled he walked to the edge of the balcony, placed his hands down on the stone railing and stared down into the garden. He was standing a good thirty feet off the hard ground below. No elf would risk injury by attempting a jump that far, unless it was an act of pure desperation. He didn’t think that could be the case here. However, he couldn’t keep a feeling of concern from entering his mind.

Aragorn decided that standing there wasn’t going to find his friend. As he turned to go and see if he could locate the missing archer, his vision swept past the right side of the balcony. He had already looked there, but now his eyes came to rest on a figure huddled down in the back corner. It was Legolas, and Aragorn had almost missed seeing him.

The elf had his legs pulled up tight against his chest with his arms wrapped around them. The right side of his head was resting on his knees, and he was staring across the balcony toward the flower box. His loose hair hid most of his face, as it fell like a golden curtain down to his ankles. Only his eyes were visible, and they were unfocused. He didn’t appear to see Aragorn, who at first thought the elf was asleep. This conclusion soon changed, when he noticed that the elf’s whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

Aragorn rushed over and knelt beside his friend. He reached out and took a handful of sunlight-colored hair and put it behind the elf‘s left ear, the same way Thranduil had done the day before. “Legolas. What is it? What’s wrong?”

Slowly Legolas's eyes focused, but he didn’t move his head or look up. “I...I know what happened, Estel.” He looked to be in shock, and his soft voice quavered, reinforcing that notion.

Estel thought that he was referring to him learning what had happened to his mother. He quickly shook off that idea. This reaction was far too intense to be a continuation of that occurrence. “What do you mean?” When the elf didn’t answer, he said more softly. “Please tell me what happened.”

Aragorn put his hand on the elf’s back and felt the trembling body. Quivering was the word that came to the ranger’s mind.

It was then Legolas looked up at the man, who almost jerked back at the horror he saw reflected there. His friend looked haunted...and frightened. Estel waited patiently, feeling that pushing too hard now might drive the elf’s obviously tenuous hold on his self-control over the edge.

Aragorn sat down beside Legolas, though facing him rather than sitting shoulder to shoulder.

Legolas lifted his head and stared straight out in front of him. “I had two dreams last night. One was of a time from my childhood while my Naneth was still alive. It was a happy dream.” There was a tiny smile at the memory. “The other was...“ He paused, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and continuing. “The other was a dream I did not bring forth deliberately. It began with the two of us on the ridge overlooking that valley forest.”

He looked at Aragorn and saw a frown cross the ranger’s face but could only guess at what his feelings were. He did see concern, but there was something else, as well. Was it anger?

Aragorn knew now what it was that Legolas had dreamed about. He had no idea what the details were, but he was sure it was about whatever Mordraug had done to him to cause first his deep coma and now the reaction he was witnessing. He became angry at the thought of what horrors that dark monster might have done to this gentle, ethereal soul beside him.

The man knew how hard it would be for Legolas to retell the story, but he also knew that it would be necessary to help him deal with it, just as he had needed to unburden himself the night before. Aragorn saw by the look on Legolas's face that he also understood the need to do so. Yet. it was clear he was reluctant to speak of something that was obviously so terrible.

Aragorn waited.

With a voice that trembled slightly, almost matching the tremors in his body, Legolas began. The story tumbled out, and Estel listened, becoming more and more shocked, as the tale unfolded. To the surprise of both, Legolas's voice, which had begun so softly and tentative, had become stronger as he talked. When he finished his story, he said, “That horrible snake licked my face and then bit me in my mouth, Estel. Can you imagine how terrifying that was?”

“No, Legolas, I truly can’t. I’d be lying to you if I said I did. It’s beyond any experience I’ve ever had or even heard of.” Then, Aragorn’s eyes went wide in realization. “So, that’s what you were doing that day out here on the balcony.”

Legolas looked at the ranger with a puzzled frown. “What are you talking about?”

When Estel explained the incident when Legolas had clawed in his mouth, the elf shuttered. “I must have been reliving that moment in the forest. It was worse than any nightmare you can imagine.”

Aragorn was horrified at the story Legolas had just told him, but he knew it best not to react too strongly. He didn’t want to add to the elf’s obvious pain and fear. He was sure that Legolas understood that. Instead he put a reassuring hand on the elf’s forearm, squeezed it gently, and said softly , “I wish I had been there to help you.”

Legolas shook his head. “You would have been a hindrance to Mordraug, and he would have killed you outright. I am glad you were not there.”

“I’m not so easy to kill.”

The elf gave Aragorn a small smile. “I am certainly glad for that.” But, he knew the ranger was aware of the truth of his previous words. The smile lasted only a second before his countenance changed, and he continued. “I thought I was going to die, when that snake bit me. I knew it was poisonous. I know now the kind of death I would have suffered.”

Again, he looked Estel in the eye. “I was poisoned the same way as all those others that Elrond told us about.” He couldn’t bring himself to mention that it was also the same way his mother had died. He still hadn’t come to terms with that. “So, if I was bitten by the same snake as the others, why did I not die, too?”

Aragorn thought about it for a moment. He had no idea how the poison could kill the others and not Legolas, though he was certainly happy that it hadn‘t. “I guess Mordraug can somehow control the poison. My father did say that the snake would do whatever Mordraug wanted him to do. With you still alive, he could threaten Thranduil with your death, if he didn’t do as he said. Dead you were no real use to him, because Thranduil wouldn‘t give up Mirkwood, if you were beyond rescuing. You were merely a hostage to get what he wanted.”

Legolas nodded. “But, he left me in the woods for you to find, and I am safe now. So, what Mordraug did to me has gone for naught. Letting me go does not make sense, Estel. There has to be more here than we know. I am sure of it.”

This time Aragorn had to agree with the elf. He was safe now, so how could that benefit Mordraug? It occurred to him that Elrond, Glorfindel and probably even Thranduil had the answer. As soon as Legolas got his emotions under control, Aragorn intended that they would find out.

“There is one thing that Mordraug either does not know or does not believe.”

“What’s that?”

“My father may want revenge, but he will not risk my life nor his own just for that. More than that, he would never turn his kingdom and all the elves that live there over to someone so evil, even if it meant the sacrifice of one of his children.” Legolas knew this for certain, though in that forest with Mordraug, he had been fearful that his father would stop at nothing to rescue him. As King, Thranduil was well aware that personal feelings to the side, Mirkwood had to come first. All his children had grown up with this knowledge.

It was after a few moments of silence that Aragorn told what he had done in the forest after Legolas had left the camp. “When it started getting late, and you hadn’t returned, I began to get very concerned. I tried to tell myself that it was just that you hadn’t caught anything and with your pride, you weren’t about to come back empty-handed. As time passed, though, I knew something was wrong, so I started searching. It took me hours in that dark place.”

He paused, thinking back on that night. “I finally found you, lying motionless in a small clearing. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t rouse you at all. I also couldn’t find any evidence of a wound or other injury. I carried you back to the campsite and continued to try and wake you. But, I never could get you to stir or even make a sound. I have to admit it scared me. I wanted to leave right then but knew that would be a bad move, and I would have to wait. So, at daybreak, I got you on your horse and brought you here to Rivendell, totally convinced my father could fix whatever was wrong. I’m so sorry. Legolas. This was all my fault.”

Legolas turned a bewildered gaze on his friend. “How is any of this your fault?”

Aragorn looked at the elf. “I was the one that made us go down that path. You were the one that wanted to go the other way. Remember?”

“And you think that was what caused Mordraug to find and attack me?”

“Yes.” The entire weight of all his guilt was evident in the ranger’s voice.

“You have been feeling this guilt the whole time I was unconscious.” Legolas's own voice held disbelief.

“Of course, I have. You just told me the horrors you endured. It was my fault, Legolas. I should have listened to you and taken the other path the way you wanted us to.”

Legolas shook his head and put his right hand over Estel’s hand that was still on his arm. “No, Estel. You are not to blame for any of this. Mordraug wanted me. He would have found me no matter where we went. Whichever path we took, even it we had not entered the forest at all and gone instead around the cliffs, he would have been waiting for me. Do you not see that?”

Aragorn had not considered this line of reasoning at all. He had known nothing of Mordraug until Elrond had informed them all of the dark elf’s presence the night before, so the man had just assumed that taking the right hand path in the forest had led to whatever had happened to his friend. Even after learning of Mordraug’s existence, he had not thought there was reason to alter his feelings of self-blame.

Legolas saw that Aragorn was struggling to come to terms with what he had just learned. When their eyes met, the elf said, “You have no blame in this, Estel, I promise you. It was Mordraug‘s doing and none other.”

Aragorn nodded, but Legolas had a feeling that the man had been so long in the throes of guilt that the elf would need to say it several more times before Estel completely accepted that fact. Legolas fully expected him to say. ‘I know you’re right, but...’

So, when Aragorn said, “I know you’re right, but...” Legolas couldn’t hold back a laugh. It was a small sound, hardly the volume or musical quality of the elf’s usual laughter, but it warmed the ranger’s heart nonetheless.

That warmth lasted mere seconds, as the haunted look soon returned to Legolas's eyes.

Chapter Sixteen

Legolas took a deep breath and unwound his arms. He pulled his body forward over his legs and rose up on his bare feet. The elf felt a moment of lightheadedness, but it wasn't enough to cause him to lose his balance, so he forced himself to ignore it. He particularly didn't want Estel to notice, or the man would try to convince him to go back to bed. At the least, he would have done his best to keep Legolas in his room.

When Estel also rose, Legolas said, "I must talk with my father. I have to get things settled with him first of all. This business with Mordraug cannot be dealt with properly, as long as tension hangs between us."

"Are you sure you're ready for that right now? You're not as steady on your feet, as you would have me believe."

So much for hiding his brief dizziness. The elf wasn't really surprised by Estel's remark. As a ranger, he had honed his skills of observation to a fine art. He had to. His life and that of others often depended on it, therefore little got by the ranger. Legolas was grateful his friend hadn't said more, so the elf just nodded in response to Aragorn’s question. "I have to be." He gave his friend a small smile of reassurance. "I will be all right, Estel." Then, he remembered the verbal exchange they had had in the forest, so he added, "And, it is not because of stubborn pride that I say this."

That remark brought a smile to the man's face. He gripped Legolas's shoulder, noting that, though lessened, tremors still ran through the elf's body. He decided not to comment on it. Getting into a verbal battle of wills with Legolas as fragile as he currently was would only cause more stress for him. His friend didn't need the aggravation. It was best to trust him and let him do whatever he felt he needed to do without an argument. Aragorn would just keep himself near to offer support, if and when it was needed.

"Do not be concerned, Estel. I will be with my father." Legolas turned and left the balcony.

*That's what worries me,* the man said to himself, knowing full well where Legolas's stubbornness came from. On more than one occasion, he had been witness to a battle of wills between Thranduil and his youngest son.

Legolas stopped in his room long enough to change shirts, discarding the rumpled blue one he had slept in and exchanging it for a fresh dove gray one. He then put on his soft suede shoes.

When the elf finished dressing, Aragorn called his name. "Legolas."

The elf turned and faced his friend. "Yes?"

With a grin, Aragorn said, "I saw the rabbit. I knew you wouldn't have come back to camp empty-handed."

Legolas appreciated the ranger's comment. He smiled and nodded, then turned and headed for the door, which was beyond Aragorn’s line of sight.

Aragorn heard no footsteps, of course, but he did hear the bolt on the door being pulled back. The door closed quietly, leaving the ranger alone to ponder all that Legolas had told him. He shivered at the mere thought of it. He also unconsciously put his hand up to his mouth. When he realized he had done it, he pulled it away and made a face like he had just eaten a bitter piece of fruit. He was glad he hadn't done that in Legolas's presence, though he doubted the elf would have faulted him for it.

Thinking again on the story, Aragorn knew that no words could describe the trauma such an experience must have caused Legolas. No wonder he was trembling. Aragorn felt that if that had happened to him, he probably wouldn't even be able to put two words together in a coherent thought. He once again admired his friend's strength of will.

He wondered if it was the venom itself that had sent the elf into a deep coma, or if Legolas's mind had driven his consciousness deep inside himself to protect him from the memory of what had been done to him. He would have to ask Elrond what he knew of it or at the least, his thoughts on the subject. His own idea was that it was probably both, though the venom held the edge. It was a thought that made him very nervous. He couldn't explain why he believed there was more heartache ahead---but he did.

Aragorn knew there was nothing more he could do while standing on the balcony, yet he found that he couldn't pull himself away, as his eye was drawn to the garden. He walked back to the railing and stood, watching the leaves on the trees gently swaying in the early morning breeze. It moved across the balcony, caressing his skin like a cool breath. He closed his eyes and held his face to the sun. Right here, right now his body felt calm and relaxed. So, why did his heart always seem to exist on the edge? He decided it was the state of the world he had to live in. Would evil ever leave them in peace in his lifetime?

~*~*~

Legolas walked down the hallway toward the room where he knew his father was staying while in Rivendell. He paused briefly in front of the large oak door. This was going to be difficult, and he didn't feel the least bit like having the kind of confrontation with Thranduil that he knew was coming, but it had to be done. He had meant what he told Estel. The business with Mordraug couldn't be dealt with properly, if there was tension remaining between him and his father.

With a deep sigh, Legolas knocked on the door. At first there was no answer. So, the young elf knocked again. There was still no answer. Along with the next knock, Legolas called out, "Ada. It is me."

It took no more that three seconds for the door to open. Thranduil's tall, lean yet muscular form stood in the doorway. The king regarded his son. The expression on his face was one that Legolas could not read. "May I come in?" he asked politely, after receiving no encouragement to do so from the elder elf.

Thranduil just nodded and stepped aside, so Legolas could enter the room. It was a room befitting a king. Half again as large as Legolas's own, it was decorated in white and gold. One end of the room was dominated by a large canopied bed and the opposite end contained a large fireplace surrounded by a sofa and several chairs. The pieces of furniture were plush and their wooden frames ornately carved. It was all much too elaborate for Legolas's simple tastes, but he had grown up with similar ostentation. knowing his father relished such luxurious decor.

The younger elf walked to the center of the room and then turned to face the elder elf. Legolas bowed is head and crossed his right arm over his chest, his fist over his heart. He held the pose for several seconds.

Thranduil was only mildly put out by the gesture. It was usually only performed by family members during very formal occasions. He certainly did not require it of his blood kin in private. Legolas had been doing that in similar circumstances most of his life. The King knew Legolas hadn't done it to hurt him. It was just his son's way of showing that things between them were not on a comfortable footing. It exasperated the king, but as always, he just accepted the gesture, since he had long ago forgone any comment on it. Thranduil sighed. This was not going to be easy.

Legolas's respectful recognition of his sovereign executed, the young elf lowered his arm and raised his head. Forgetting the elf before him was his King, Legolas now saw only his father. "We have to talk."

The two were now simply father and son and not king and subject, so Thranduil directed Legolas to the sofa. After the younger elf sat down on one end of it, Thranduil sat down next to him. They faced each other.

"I wish to apologize to you, Legolas," the woodland king began. "I have done much thinking on what transpired between us last evening."

"Do you think that an apology will make things right?"

"Not entirely. I certainly hope it will be a beginning." The King's voice was soft yet clear and strong.

"Why did you keep the manner of Naneth's death a secret from me all these years? Did I not deserve to know the truth?" Legolas's voice was anything but soft. It was louder than normal and tinged with anger.

"As I told you last evening, I did it to protect you."

"And, I told you that keeping secrets was not the way to protect me." Legolas stared straight into his father's blue-gray eyes so like his own.

Guilt and regret may have dominated Thranduil's emotions, but he did not flinch from his son's stern gaze. He was a king and never backed away from any situation, no matter how unpleasant.

"Tell me, Legolas, how would knowing the manner of your Naneth's death have done you any good? Would knowing the truth have allowed you to sleep better at night? Would it have made your remembrances of her fonder?" Thranduil did not want to be harsh in what he said, but it was the only thing that he knew to say to try and get his son to understand his motives.

Legolas shook his head. "No. It would not. Yet, you have always taught us that truth is its own reason for being and that truth, in the end, transcends any sadness or heartache that it may cause. You did not trust me to handle the truth. Why did you not follow your own teachings?"

"Believe me, Legolas, it was never a matter of trust. In this circumstance, I let my heart rule my head. I love you more than you can possibly imagine, and I had hoped to spare you such heartache. I admitted last evening that I was wrong, and I admit it again right now." It was only now that the sorrow Thranduil felt in his heart could be read in his expression.

Legolas felt for his father. He truly did, but there was one more thing he had to know. "Did my brothers and sisters know the truth?"

"Yes." Thranduil paused, and it was then that Legolas recognized that the word ‘yes’ that his father had just said sounded so much like the ‘yes’ Estel had said earlier, when he had admitted to Legolas that he had been feeling guilty, because he felt his decision in the forest had led to Mordraug's attack. If not for the difference in the voices themselves, Legolas wouldn't have been able to tell which one had spoken.

With a small start, Legolas realized that his father had continued with the explanation. "They were much older. You were but a young elfling."

"And, the secret could easily be kept from me."

A nod confirmed Legolas's reasoning. In his own defense, Thranduil said, "I did try to tell you several times, when you were older, but I never could bring myself to do it. I just wanted to forget the horror of it and remember her the way she had been during our life together. It is hard to let one event, no matter how deeply wrenching, ruin the memory of so many centuries of happiness. For you it was different. You had only a little time with her. I did not want the few memories you held tainted with the horror of what happened. I would do it differently today, but I cannot change the past." This explanation was the best way Thranduil knew to express his reasons for what he had done.

Tears sprang to Thranduil's eyes then, but he refused to let them fall. The one thing he did not want to do was let his tears sway Legolas. His son had to forgive him or not based on Legolas's feelings about what his father had just told him and not on emotional display, however unwanted and unintended it was.

The elder Wood elf watched Legolas's face closely and saw the various emotions playing across his handsome features. He thought, as he often did, of how beautiful Legolas was, even among a race of beautiful beings. He also marveled again that his Little One had a heart and soul to match.

Thranduil knew how upsetting it would be if this precious child that he had raised and loved with all his heart could never forgive him. He tried so hard not to think that a foolish, though well-intentioned, decision he had made so very many years ago could come back to break his heart now. He waited, almost afraid to hear what Legolas would say.

Legolas had listened to everything his father had said. He also watched the King's face and body language very closely. Thranduil was basically honest and straightforward. However, as a king, he had found that on occasion it was prudent to be less than forthright in some of his dealings with those from other realms. It was a necessary game that Thranduil felt he was sometimes forced to play to protect Mirkwood. After thousands of years of doing it, he had become quite good at it.

Legolas knew his father very well. He was one of the few who could tell when Thranduil was being genuine and when he had what Legolas called his ‘Kingly Mask' in place. It was a mask Thranduil virtually never used when dealing with his own people. One thing Legolas knew for certain: no matter what game Thranduil played, once he had given his word, he kept it.

Legolas saw no deception in the elder elf before him. His father had truly spoken from his heart. He also hadn't missed the misty eyes his father had tried so hard to hide. Without a word being spoken, Legolas reached out and wrapped his arms around his father’s shoulders. "I love you, Ada, and I forgive what you did."

Thranduil returned the embrace. It was only then that the elven King let the tears roll down his cheeks. His son had forgiven him. Nothing in all the world right then could have given him more joy. There would be many that knew the King of Mirkwood as temperamental, difficult and fierce, who would be very surprised, if they could have see him at that moment.

After a moment spent in the silence, Legolas pulled away. He made no remark about the tears he saw on his father's face. "Let us go down to breakfast together."

"I would like nothing better," Thranduil said with a large smile.

Legolas got up from the sofa and started toward the door. He paused when his father said, "I have to put on a robe a little more formal than this." He swept his hand down the front of his clothing. "Wait for me in the hall. I will join you shortly."

The young elf smiled. His father was already wearing a robe fine enough to impress most people, but it did not satisfy Thranduil. Legolas knew that his father also needed to dry his tear-stained face. He nodded and left the room.

Legolas walked out into the hall and stood and waited for his father to join him. He had forgiven Thranduil and had no intention of dwelling on what he considered a closed subject. He couldn't keep a smile from crossing his face. It felt good to get that settled. In truth, it would have broken his heart, as well, to be at odds with his Ada much longer.

Such were his thoughts, when unbidden, the dream and the snake's attack sprang to the forefront of his mind. Most times he was good at forcing unpleasant thoughts from his consciousness and ignoring them for as long as he needed to. This wasn't going to one of those times. It was just too traumatic to stay hidden for long. The settling of the difficulty between himself and his father had allowed for the more intense thoughts to spring forward.

As if triggered by the memory, a searing, white hot pain exploded through his whole body. It was so sudden that his knees buckled and it forced the air from his lungs.

He soon found himself on his hands and knees, head hanging down, panting for breath. During his long life, he had sustained wounds, burns, broken bones, animal bites and other types of injuries, all of which had been painful. However, this pain was unlike any he had ever experienced before. Agony had blasted through every fiber of his being all at once. Every nerve in his body was screaming. It felt as if he was being consumed by flames.

Chapter Seventeen

Legolas would have screamed, if he had had the breath to do so. He was certain that the flames were devouring his flesh. He almost laughed when he found himself wondering if he was going to set the house on fire. What strange things the mind contemplates, when the body is dying.

Aragorn was just walking out of Legolas's room when he almost ran straight into Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. He pulled up short and stared at each of them, obviously a little startled.

Before he could speak, Elrohir said, “We wanted to check with you about Legolas, but since you were not in your room, we decided you must be here.”

“How is Legolas?” Elrond asked. His tone was neutral, though his face reflected an expression of deep concern. Of the four present, he was the only one that knew the full truth about the poison in Legolas's body.

“He’s with Thranduil, trying to sort things out between them.” There was a tone in Estel’s voice that indicated he wanted to say more. It was clear to his father and brothers that he was agitated.

His son hadn’t really answered the question asked, so Lord Elrond just raised his eyebrows. Estel knew very well what that gesture meant. He had certainly seen it often enough, so he continued, saying what he had started to say before. “Legolas had a dream and relived everything that happened in the forest. It was horrible, and he now knows it all.”

Down at the other end of the hall, Legolas's name was shouted out. The three elves and the human were startled and looked toward the sound. They saw Legolas in the middle of the corridor on his hands and knees. Thranduil was rushing to his side. They all took off at a dead run toward the two blond-haired wood elves.

Suddenly, Legolas heard his name echoing from somewhere above him. He felt hands gripping him. Why would someone risk burning themselves by touching him? His eyes were tightly shut of their own accord, so he couldn’t see who it was. He then felt himself pulled over onto strong arms, lifted up and carried. In seconds---or was it hours?---he was laid out on something soft. Had whoever picked him up put out the flames? It didn’t feel like it.

He then heard more voices, talking excitedly. He couldn’t make out a single word that was being spoken. The sounds were vague, like those being whipped around by a strong wind.

He became aware that he was thrashing and tossing, trying to escape the pain. But, he knew there was no where to go to get away from it. His mind hadn’t told his body to move. It was the burning agony that was driving the movements, giving his body commands of their own.

Elrond looked toward Elladan and Elrohir, who were on the opposite side of the bed and trying to hold their elven friend still. They were only marginally successful. The elf Lord put his hand on Legolas's forehead, knowing exactly what he would find. “He is burning up,” he stated with concern.

Legolas nodded. There it was. Confirmation that he really was burning. He felt his charred flesh being pulled from his bones every time he moved under the hands that were holding him. But, he could not stop. The horrid thought came to him that if this continued, soon there would be nothing left of him. *Put out the flames. Please, put out the flames!* he begged, though he couldn't be sure, if he had spoken out loud or not.

The pain was excruciating, yet Legolas's mind still functioned somewhat clearly. How was that possible? He was being burned alive, wasn‘t he? Surely his mind would soon fly away with no body left for it to inhabit.

“He was fine a moment ago,” Thranduil said, his voice betraying his near panic. “We embraced. He had no fever. Nothing was wrong. I would have known.” He looked worriedly at Elrond. There was also a knowing look in his eyes, and that look was pleading for the elf Lord to tell him that what he knew to be true really wasn‘t.

The look was not missed by Aragorn. “You know something.” He tried to keep an accusatory tone from his voice. It wasn’t easy. He was aware Thranduil and his father knew more than they let on, and he was desperate to find out what it was.

The flames were suddenly gone. They hadn‘t died down, they had just vanished. *Thank the Valar.* Legolas's gratitude was short-lived as cold fingers of ice began to creep through his body. It now felt like icy mountain water was flowing through his veins. Right behind the cold came the numbness, and he realized that he was shivering violently. Elves didn’t shiver, because they didn’t get cold. Not like this. So, why was this happening to him? He didn’t understand. But, understand or not, it could not be denied. It was a totally new sensation for him, and he didn’t like it.

All eyes turned to Legolas then, as the elf‘s body shook with the reaction to the cold that had now gripped his body. It seemed as if mere seconds had passed, when his skin began to take on a bluish hue.

It was Aragorn this time who felt of the elf’s forehead. Legolas's skin was soft, but it otherwise felt like a piece of marble that had been left out in the snow. It felt like...death. Aragorn shook his head to banish that word from his mind. He didn’t know what was happening, but he refused to believe that his friend was dying. Not Legolas.

Aragorn grabbed for the bedcovers to wrap around Legolas's shivering form. “He’s freezing.”

Elrond stayed his hands. “That will not help, Estel. The cold comes from the inside.”

The ranger looked at this father. “What is happening to him? How can he be burning up one minute and freezing the next? It makes no sense,” he wailed in desperation.

“Yes, Estel, it does,” Elrond replied. “Fire and ice. Remember I told you last night.”

“It is Mordraug,” Thranduil declared angrily, his eyes never leaving Legolas's face. “He is doing this to my son.”

Aragorn looked again from one elder elf to the other. He was totally bewildered. How could Mordraug possibly be in control of what was now happening to Legolas? He was many miles away. He looked at his twin brothers, but they wore expressions as bewildered as his own.

Legolas began gasping for air. He knew his lungs were ceasing to function because of the cold. They, along with every other vital organ in his body, was freezing into a silent stillness. He was completely aware of his impending death, as his physical being continued its advancement toward oblivion.

He mentally smiled, thinking that soon he would be with his Naneth again, this time in the Halls of Mandos. The thought was comforting, thought it was mixed with regret that he wold be leaving all those he loved here in Middle-earth.

Suddenly, the archer’s body went still, and before anyone could react to the fear that he had died, he moaned. All eyes remained on the elf, as they waited. When he slowly opened his eyes, he saw the face of his father leaning close to him, a frightened expression on his face.

"Ada."

Thranduil's expression remained one of deep worry. He put his hand on Legolas's left cheek. It was cool but beginning to warm up. "Ion nin." <My son>

Legolas realized then that he was in a bed, propped up on large, soft pillows. He looked around him and also saw the faces of Estel, Elrond and the twins. They were all looking back at him, as if he had suddenly come back from the dead. Had he? He remembered the burning heat and then the numbing cold. He had been dying. He was sure of it.

The blond archer closed his eyes and took stock of how his body felt now. It was no longer giving him any pain nor was it numb, but he felt drained and weak. His body felt as if a great weight was pressing down on him, keeping him from moving.

Legolas looked back at his father, and it took a moment for him to realize that Thranduil had not shown any sign of surprise by the sudden attack he had just suffered. There was worry and fear, yes, but not surprise. He searched his father's face, looking for answers. "Ada, you know what just happened to me, do you not?"

Without hesitation, Thranduil nodded and said, "Aye, Legolas, I do." There was now a look on the elven king's face that said he was profoundly sorry for that fact. He knew he would have to tell his son what was behind the attack, but he would rather face a Nazgûl unarmed than have to reveal what he knew.

Elrond put his hand on Thranduil’s arm. “I can do it,“ he said, indicating that he was willing to be the one to tell Legolas what the young elf needed to hear.

The elven king shook his head. “Thank you , Elrond, but I must do this.” He knew that Elrond was there to add support, but he would have to do most of the explaining. Thranduil sighed and looked at his son. "I must first tell you what Mordraug did to you."

"I know what he did to me, Ada. I dreamed of it last night. I relived every detail of it just as it happened to me." Legolas's voice was soft, as he spoke. He had already told the detailed version of the story to Estel, and he didn't want to relive every bit of it once more. He simply told everyone in several short sentences what had taken place. The shortened version was horrific enough---to tell and to hear.

Even though he had known about the snake, hearing the story of what his son had gone through broke Thranduil's heart. An especially close emotional attachment to his children had always caused him to suffer, whenever any of them were hurt. The woodland king was always careful to see that none of them ever knew how bad it sometimes got. Once Thranduil had needed to spend several days isolated in his private rooms in Mirkwood to recover after both of his youngest sons had nearly died from multiple spider bites.

Legolas watched his father's face and was sure there was more that Thranduil knew than just what Mordraug had done. "Tell me, Ada,” Legolas pleaded. “What just happened to me?"

Thranduil moved his right hand from his son's cheek and grasped his hand, all the while looking into the younger elf’s eyes. "Legolas, the venom that Mordraug's serpent injected into you is still in your body. It is my opinion, and I am sure that of Elrond also, that he has just activated it to bring great hurt to you. It is his way of trying once again to get to me."

Legolas just stared at his father. The shock had not completely worn off, when he found his voice. "I thought the poison had finally left my body, and that is what allowed me to wake up."

"That is not what brought you back. I believe it was Estel. I never cared for humans, as you well know. I never fully approved of your friendship with him, though I have accepted him, because you wanted me to. I have found out, since being here, just what he went through to give you back to us."

Thranduil spoke as if Aragorn were not even in the room, much less right beside him. The ranger was not offended. He hadn’t really expected anything different from the woodland king. However, he was pleased to hear Thranduil concede what the man had done for his son.

Despite Legolas's current shock, he managed to spare a smile. "I always told you he was worthy of my friendship, or anyone else’s, for that matter."

As strong as his feelings about Estel were, the young elf couldn't keep his thoughts from turning back to the venom he now knew was a living part of him. He turned to Elrond. "Can you not rid me of this poison?"

With all the sadness in the world, the Lord of Imladris shook his head. "I am sorry, Legolas. I know of no way to remove it from your system. Mordraug controls the poison. As long as he desires it so, he can use it against you."

Legolas's eyes went wide in realization. "You mean that he can do this to me any time he chooses?" He was looking at his father, as he asked the question.

Thranduil’s face crumpled. "I..."

Legolas put his free hand on his father's shoulder. "You do not have to say it, Ada. I know that you cannot turn Mirkwood over to someone like Mordraug. Those of our people he did not kill, he would turn into his slaves."

"It pains me more than you can ever imagine to know that I can do nothing. I cannot rid you of the poison, and I cannot give Mordraug what he wants to free you." Thranduil came close to breaking down at having to say those words. He was, in essence, giving his youngest child a declaration of doom.

"Ada, you know that he would never free me. Even if you readily turned Mirkwood over to him, he would never let any of the royal family live, even down to my little nieces and nephews. He would always fear someone in the family would someday rise up against him. And, they probably would---in time."

"I love you so much, ion nin, it kills me to know what Mordraug has done to you. But..."

“But, I am right.” It was a firm statement. Legolas now knew for certain that he would die, and it would be pain far beyond what he had just endured. As a warrior, death had never frightened him, however, the manner of that death sometime did...like now. Yet, it was the thought that his entire family was the target of an evil, renegade elf that frightened him the most. If at all possible, he would use what remaining time he had to try and destroy the one who wanted to destroy them and thereby save not only his family, but Mirkwood itself.

A plan began to form in his head.

Chapter Eighteen

For a long time no one spoke. Both of the elder elves were greatly saddened by what they had just revealed to their children. It was devastating news. How could it not be?

Thranduil, especially, was almost beyond consoling. He was going to lose his son. It was a decision that Thranduil, the King, had to make while pushing Thranduil, the father, to the side. He would have given his own life in an instant to change the outcome. But, Legolas was the one who had the poison in his system, so that choice had been taken away from the elven King. He also had to admit to himself that Legolas had been right, Mordraug would never set him free no matter what Thranduil did. That knowledge did nothing to make him feel any better.

Elrond felt as totally helpless now as he had all those centuries ago, when Mordraug had first shown up. *No,* he thought. *I feel worse, because I have come to love Legolas, as much as if he were my own.* But, he too, knew that Legolas was beyond salvation, a thought that made his heart ache. As strong-willed as Elrond was, at that moment, the elf Lord couldn’t bring himself to meet the eyes of Legolas, Thranduil or any of his own children.

“I can’t believe this!” Aragorn shouted. “You are all just sitting here talking about Legolas's death and saying nothing about how to prevent it from happening.”

“Estel...” Legolas began.

“No, Legolas. You are not going to die. I won’t allow that to happen. There has to be a way to stop Mordraug and save you, and I intend on finding out what it is.” Aragorn was so distraught and angry that he was shaking. He looked to his brothers for support.

Elrohir ventured a suggestion. “We could all go to find Mordraug. If we are fully armed and have a large contingent of warriors with us, there is no way he could get us all.”

“Elrohir, I appreciate the offer.” Legolas said with a nod to one of his dearest friends, “but we would be sacrificing too many brave warriors to a horrible death. I will not let that happen just to save myself.” He looked pointedly at Aragorn, who looked like he was about to protest. “Would you do differently, Estel, if you were in my place?”

Aragorn knew Legolas had effectively silenced him, because he knew he would not do it any differently in the same circumstance. He couldn’t bring himself to voice the negative answer, so he just hung his head and stared down at the gold-colored bedspread.

As much as Elladan wanted to agree with his twin, he had to disagree by bringing up another important point. “Even if we killed Mordraug and his snake, how could we stop the poison? We do not even know if there is an antidote to neutralize it. We could kill the dark elf and still not be able to...” He stopped short of saying ‘save Legolas‘.

Legolas, who had been sitting up since the pain had left his body, put his hands on either side of his head and closed his eyes. His head had started to hurt...bad. He knew immediately that it wasn’t the poison this time. It was just a normal headache, though he hadn’t had one in many years.

“Legolas,” his father said fearfully. “Has the pain returned?” He reached out and put his hand over one of the young elf’s. He didn’t know if he could stand watching his son suffer another vicious attack.

“No, Ada. It is only a headache. I think I need to rest. I feel very tired.”

Thranduil, as well as all the others in the room, were surprised that the stubborn young elf would admit that. It did not bode well for how he must really be feeling, since any pain he had was usually ten times worse than whatever he admitted to.

“Lie back down, ion nin,” Thranduil encouraged. “Try to sleep. I will watch over you.” He briefly thought back to the times he had done that for Legolas, the elfling.

Legolas was about to protest when he saw the look in his father’s eyes. He also noted the same look in Estel’s. He knew that neither one would be able to conduct activities as usual while they were concerned about him. That went for Elrond and the twins, as well. He hated people worrying on his account, but under the circumstances, there was nothing he could do about it. He did understand, because if any of them had been in his place, he wouldn’t have left their side for anything. He nodded at his father‘s suggestion.

He tried very hard to keep his eyes open, so there would be no more concern than there already was, but he just couldn’t do it. As soon as he settled back down on the pillows, his eyes slowly closed. Everyone else present was immediately aware of the significance of Legolas's closed eyes, and their worry increased.

Elrond motioned the twins away from the bed. The Lord of Imladris walked over to the door, and his elven sons followed. In a low voice, he said to them, “I think we need to leave them alone for now. Perhaps, we can go to my library and see if there is something we missed that could help.”

He led his sons out of the room. All three knew that any such search through Elrond’s books and scrolls would be as useless as those searches had been all during the time of Legolas's coma. But, they had to do something besides sit and think too hard on what had happened to the Mirkwood prince and what the twins found out about the poison in their friend.

Behind them Thranduil and Aragorn sat on the bed and stared at Legolas. Both of their minds were filled with sorrow and helplessness.

Aragorn still wasn’t ready to give up on his best friend. He would never give up---never---not as long as the elf drew breath, and that was something that the man was determined to see continue to happen.

Thranduil, who had known the truth about the venom, had already surrendered all hope. All he wanted to do now was spend as much time with his son as he could. He mentally cursed Mordraug and his maniacal idea that he was the rightful ruler of Mirkwood. There was no truth to it, but because of that false belief in the mind of an insane elf, Thranduil was to lose his youngest child. He put his right hand over his eyes and sobbed silently and bitterly.

Aragorn was so full of anger, he could barely keep himself still. He watched Legolas sleep, not knowing if any second the archer would have another cruel attack. The thought that Mordraug could do this to his friend as often as he wished until he received what he wanted infuriated the ranger. To Aragorn’s way of thinking, no elf deserved to suffer the way the elves all those years ago had, but none deserved it less than this elf.

The elven king and the human ranger spoke little for the rest of the day. Legolas slept soundly, and they kept their vigil. The twins brought two food trays to the room for their brother and the king at lunchtime, but neither felt like eating anything. The trays were left.

When asked by Aragorn if anything had been found in Elrond‘s library, Elladan shook his head. The man hadn’t really expected the answer to be any different.

~*~*~

Just as the sun was sinking below the western horizon, Legolas woke up. He smiled when he saw his father and best friend by his side. The smile remained, even after the joy in his heart faded. He felt far worse for them and what he knew they felt than he did for his own impending death. He would have given anything to spare them what they would go through when he finally passed into the Halls of Mandos. He also felt bad that his father would have to return to Mirkwood with his body and explain to his brothers and sisters that their little brother had suffered the same fate as their naneth had. Still, he was glad it was him and neither Thranduil nor Estel that would be leaving this life. He held on to the belief that they would recover in time.

It was then that Aragorn noticed the elf’s eyes were open. “Legolas.”

At the sound of his son’s name, Thranduil turned his head to face the young elf. “Ion nin. you are awake. How do you fare?”

“I am all right, Ada. My head no longer pains me.” He gave his father and then Aragorn a reassuring nod. He was glad that he spoke the truth. The headache had indeed disappeared.

The young elf noticed that the sun had set and soft globes of light from candles were lit around the room.

“Neither of you have eaten all day, have you?” He didn’t need to see the untouched food trays to know that. “You both must not worry so. I have accepted my fate.” He looked at his father and saw that he had, as well. The look on the ranger’s face was far different. “I wish you would, Estel.”

“No, I won’t, and I can’t believe that you would give up on yourself.” He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but it was there despite the effort.

“I have never been one to give up. You know that, Estel. But I also have never held on to false hope, when all genuine hope is gone.”

“More of your elven logic.”

“I am a logical elf, “ Legolas replied. There was no need to mention that he could be a very emotional one, as well. “Do not fight against reality, Estel. It will only cause you heartache.”

“And, you think your death won’t?”

“See? You have finally accepted the inevitable.”

Aragorn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He did not want to spend time arguing with Legolas. He’d be crushed if the argument somehow triggered another attack. “You are too stubborn for you own good.”

“So, I have been told,” Legolas said with mild amusement, looking at both his friend and his father.

The king had been privy to many such exchanges between his son and the human. It still confused Thranduil, but he had never been able to turn Legolas from his chosen path of having this man for a friend. Now, he found himself glad that he had not.

“Ada, I wish to go back to my own room. I want to be alone for a while before the evening meal. I am all right, and I promise that I will seek help if anything happens.”

That remark didn’t ease Thranduil’s concerns any, since an attack would leave his son totally helpless and unable to do anything to aid himself. But, the last thing he wanted was to waste time arguing with his son. He nodded. “We will eat together.”

“Later tonight, please. I am not hungry now.”

Again Thranduil nodded.

Both Thranduil and Aragorn stood up and moved so that Legolas could get out of the bed. The elf was surprised and happy that he felt neither pain nor dizziness. "Until later." He gave his father a quick embrace. He wanted to hold him tight and tell him goodbye, but he knew he couldn't let Thranduil suspect what he was planning. He simply smiled, turning quickly so no one would see the look in his eyes. He left the room.

Legolas hadn't turned quickly enough. There was something in Legolas's eyes as he left that stirred a feeling of foreboding in the man's heart. He knew that look. He turned to Thranduil. "I will see that he arrives at his room in good order." With no further words, he followed his friend out of the room and down the hall.

When Legolas reached his room, he opened the door and started inside. Before he could close it, Aragorn was standing there. He pushed himself past the elf and entered the room without asking for permission. His voice was angry as he turned on his friend and asked, “Just when were you planning to leave? While we were all at dinner? Or, did you intend on sneaking out in the middle of the night?””

“I do not know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean. I know you too well, Legolas. You intend on going to find Mordraug and try to destroy him by yourself.” He moved closer to the elf. “That’s true, isn’t it?” His question was accusatory and harsh.

Legolas sighed. Estel did know him too well. It was a waste of time to deny it. “I must,” was his only reply.

“Why? Don’t you know he’ll kill you.”

Legolas put his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder and looked evenly into his eyes. In a soft voice, he said, “He already has, Estel. Deep down you know this as surely as I do.”

“I know no such thing. I will never let you just resign yourself to death. I told you there has to be an answer.”

“There is, but you do not wish to hear it.” Legolas's voice was calm, and it seemed to rouse Aragorn’s anger even more.

“I will never accept that, you infuriating elf! You are not going to die. Not in my lifetime. You are immortal, and you must live until it‘s time for you to sail to the West.”

“Not all elves reach Valinor.”

Aragorn‘s shoulders slumped just the tiniest bit. “You aren’t going to change your mind, are you?”

“No.”

“Then, I’m going with you. The two of us have a better chance anyway.”

The entire time Aragorn was making his declaration, Legolas was shaking his head.. “I must do this alone.”

“Why?”

Legolas brushed past the ranger and walked over to his bed. Aragorn followed. He held his arms out in front of him with his palms up in a pleading gesture. “Just tell me why.”

The elf stepped around Aragorn. The maneuver forced the man to turn until his back was to the bed. When Legolas had the ranger positioned exactly where he wanted him, he said, “Because, you have not been poisoned. I have.”

In a lightning fast move, Legolas clenched his fist, pulled his arm back and swung it forward, hitting the ranger on the jaw---hard. Aragorn saw it coming but could do nothing in time to stop it. He fell back limply onto the bed.

Legolas lifted his friend up and carefully laid him down lengthwise on the bed. He gently rested Estel’s head on the large pillow. When he stood, he looked down at the man’s face. “Please forgive me for this, Estel. It was necessary.” With a sigh, he turned and walked out onto the balcony for the last time.

The elf stood and looked out over the garden. How beautiful it was in the silvery glow of the full moon, which had now risen above the treetops. How he would miss this scene that had given him so much pleasure. He started to turn back, when a breeze brought to him the scent of his favorite blue flowers in the wooden box at the left end of the balcony. A smile touched his lips.

He walked over and bent down, holding two of the flowers in the cupped palms of each hand. He released the one in his left hand and slid his right hand a couple of inches down the stem of the other one. With a quick twist, he snapped it neatly. He put the flower under his nose and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and relishing the strong fragrance. It soothed his Silvan soul.

He turned and went back into the room and sat down at the small desk near the doorway. There was a lit candle in a crystal globe near the edge, and he pulled it closer as he opened a drawer and pulled out a pen, ink bottle and two pieces of parchment. With little hesitation, he began to write.

Before long, he laid the pen down and swiftly glanced over what he had written on both sheets of paper before nodding and signing his name to each. Once he was sure all the ink was dry, Legolas carefully folded the papers separately and wrote a name on the outside of them.

The elf stood up, picking up the papers and the flower. He walked over to where Aragorn lay. He lifted the man’s left arm and set the papers next to each other on the bed with the flower on top of one of them. He lowered Aragorn’s arm so that his hand rested on the papers and his fingers encircled the blue flower. Then, he walked over to where his quiver rested on a table next to one wall. He took out one of the green-fletched arrows that he had lovingly made himself, as he had all of his arrows. He went back and laid it down next to Estel.

He leaned over and placed the palm of his hand on Estel‘s chest over his heart. “Namarie, mellon nin.” <Farewell, my friend.>

Legolas gathered his weapons. With one last look around the room and then at his friend, the elf silently slipped out of the room.

Chapter Nineteen

Aragorn woke up and found himself staring up at the flickering candle light, as it danced on the ceiling above him. Why was he lying in a bed? One glance around told him he was still in Legolas's room. What had happened between himself and the elf came back to him. “He hit me,” the ranger said aloud, remembering the elven fist that had come smashing into his face. He hadn’t been able to stop it. Aragorn sat up and gently rubbed the tender spot on his jaw, knowing by the pain of it that it was bruised.

Aragorn then became aware of something under his left hand. It felt cool and soft against his fingers. He looked down and saw a blue flower cradled under his left hand. He gently picked it up and stared down at its simple beauty. Without even sniffing, the fragrance reached his nose. *Oh, Legolas.*

He looked down again and spotted the folded papers. He saw that one had the word Estel written in Westron in the center. With hands that were shaking slightly, he unfolded the parchment. Inside he found a letter written in Sindarin in the neat, precise hand of his friend. He began to read.

Dearest Estel,

By the time you find this, I will be gone. I regret that I had to leave you behind. Please do not be angry with me. I would love to have had you by my side one more time on the last journey of my life. But, it could not be.

You are a great man, Estel, and one day, all of Middle-earth will know it also. I believe that your destiny will be one of legend. Mine is to try and see that such a thing will take place.

You have been a light in my life. Never would I have thought, all those years ago, that a human child would grow up to become so dear to me. Your heart has been true and your actions noble and honorable. Keep it so, and do not despair, even in the darkest of hours, for the light will always return, and you must be ready to greet it.

Thank you, Estel, for all the devotion and companionship you have given me through the years. It has been one of the greatest joys of my life to have called you my friend.

My wish for you is a heart full of happiness, always.

Legolas

Aragorn just sat and stared at the letter, rereading it over and over. Soon, the tears in his eyes blurred his vision until the page was no longer readable. It didn’t matter, for he had already committed every word to memory. He folded the paper and laid it down next to the flower.

The second paper had Thranduil’s name on the front. The man dreaded the thought of having to give this letter to the woodland King. He knew it would cause a pain even greater than his own.

Aragorn picked up the arrow that lay beside him. He ran his fingers along the smooth, almost polished surface of the wooden shaft. The arrowhead was of a design that Legolas had created himself, when he had become a warrior. The green fletchings were perfectly formed and attached to the shaft with great care. Even an inexperienced eye could see that this arrow would fly far and true. In the talented hands of the youngest Prince of Mirkwood, it would never have missed its mark.

Aragorn clutched the arrow to his chest and closed his eyes, believing, at that moment, that he would never see his best friend again.

Chapter Twenty

In Elrond’s library, the Lord of Imladris and his two elven sons were deep in their search for answers. Elrond himself wasn’t sure why they were really there. He had gone over and over everything that could even remotely be associated with what had happened to Legolas, and there was precious little of it.

He had done extensive research on snakes in general and unusual ones in particular once he had realized that Legolas's condition was due to Mordraug. There was nothing that resembled the snake the dark elf was using as a weapon. It seemed that the snake and his abilities were unique in all of Middle-earth, at least as far as he was able to tell. The snake had been embedded in an amber stone. There was no way to know how long it had been there. He doubted that even Mordraug knew its origins, not that he probably cared over much. It did his bidding, and that was surely all the dark elf was interested in.

Elrond and his sons had been there for close to an hour, when Glorfindel knocked on the door. At Elrond’s invitation, he entered the library. “Could you use some help?”

“We would appreciate it,” Elrond said, smiling at his old friend.

“I just talked to Thranduil,” Glorfindel stated. When all eyes turned to him in surprise, he shrugged. “I know he and I do not exactly see eye to eye most of the time, but I am concerned about Legolas. He told me, just now, everything that happened to Legolas in the forest, as well as the cruel attack he just suffered. All of it is dreadful beyond words. I still cannot believe that what Mordraug did almost a thousand years ago is happening all over again.”

Elrond sighed. “I have a hard time believing that also, except I saw with my own eyes what Mordraug just did to Legolas. We need to find something that will help him.” His words were determined, but his tone held little hope.

Glorfindel sat down on the sofa next to Elladan and picked up a book. He was sure that he had read that same book recently, but maybe there was something he hadn’t noticed before that would stand out now. It was unlikely, but he would read the book upside down and backwards, if it meant he might find something to help the young Wood elf.

The four elves turned their attention to the research. The only sound in the room was the occasional rustling of a page, as it was turned. From time to time one or another of the elves would go to a shelf and choose another book, replacing it with the one already studied. The spirits of all four gradually grew increasingly frustrated.

“This is a waste of time!” Elrohir said after a while, as he slammed a book shut. “There is nothing in any of these books,” he swept his arm around to encompass the whole room, “that will tell us how to fight the venom. I think we all know that by now.”

Elrond understood his son’s despair, but it was Elladan that spoke first. “We have to keep trying. I do not think any of us want to give up on Legolas.”

“That is not what I meant,” Elrohir said defensively. “The answer we seek is not to be found in anything here. We must look elsewhere.”

Elladan looked at his twin. “And, just where is ‘elsewhere‘?”

Elrohir hesitated before continuing. “I still think we should go after Mordraug.” He held his hand up. “I know what you are going to say. Legolas will not let us risk any of our warriors. So, why do we not just go ourselves and take our chances?

“Legolas would not let us do that, either,” Elladan replied. “I cannot blame him. I would not let any of you do it for me were I in his place.”

“So, we just let him die?” Elrohir didn’t mean to sound so harsh. He just couldn’t stand doing nothing useful. He knew full well that Estel would not give up, as he had already stated quite firmly. “There is more at stake here than just the life of a dear friend. Many more elves will surely fall, as well, if Mordraug is not stopped, and there does not seem to be anyone else to do it.”

Before anyone could remark on Elrohir’s comment, Estel came bursting into the room. One look at his tear-stained face frightened them all. The man didn’t notice the startled expressions that soon turned to ones of fear. He blurted out, “Legolas is gone!”

Each and every elf in the library immediately assumed that Legolas had had another attack, and that Estel was telling them that the young Wood elf had died as a result of it. The sorrow that suddenly permeated the room was so thick it was palpable.

At first no one moved. Even Aragorn was rooted to the spot, as he seemed to be waiting for someone to say something. Elrond quickly rose, walked around his desk and enfolded Estel in his arms. “I am so sorry, my son. I know how you cherished Legolas. He was a friend beyond measure to you---to all of us.”

It took Estel a moment to realize what his father meant by his words. He pulled back from Elrond’s embrace. “No. No, Ada. You don’t understand. Legolas isn’t dead. By ‘gone’ I meant he’s left Rivendell. He went after Mordraug. He believes he’s already doomed, so he thinks going alone is the only way to save his family, as well as Mirkwood.” He looked around at the faces in the room. Their expressions were a mixture of both relief and anguish.

Elrond, whose overriding emotion was one of relief, put his hand under Estel’s chin and turned his head to the right, studying the left side of his son’s face. He closely studied the bruised jaw. “He knocked you out, so that you could not stop him from going alone.” It was a flat statement born of Elrond’s countless years of quickly gathering facts and making correct suppositions.

“Yes, that’s exactly what he did. I saw it coming, but elves are fast.” He tenderly touched his jaw. “They hit hard, too.“ There was no mirth in the remarks. He shook his head out of Elrond’s grasp. “We have to go after him, Ada.”

“Are you saying Legolas has gone after Mordraug?” came a voice from behind Aragorn. Standing in the doorway and looking decidedly distraught was Thranduil.

Aragorn turned and looked into the concerned blue-gray eyes of the elven King and then nodded. “You know that Mordraug will not hesitate to kill him.”

Thranduil was shaking his head. “Mordraug will not kill my son before I arrive. I am sure of that. How long ago did Legolas leave?” Thranduil’s tone had taken on that of someone who had decided to take action and was gathering information before doing so.

“Judging by the moon, I’d say almost an hour. He has a big head start on us, but we can catch him, if we leave right now.” Aragorn wasn’t really sure if anyone could catch Legolas. His elven stallion was incredibly swift, and Legolas would be moving without much rest to get to Mordraug and at the same time outrun any possible pursuit. He wasn’t going to mention that last little fact, though he doubted he needed to.

Elrohir did it for him. “We will never catch him now. He will not slow down, except to rest his horse, until he reaches that valley forest. You know he knows some of us are going to follow, and we will have to rest our horses, as well.”

Elrond seemed to be the only one to pick up on the fact that Elrohir had said the ’will’ of certainty and not the ’would’ of doubt about following the young Mirkwood elf. His eldest son began speaking before he could make a comment.

Elladan quickly agreed with his twin, when he added, “He will want to finish the whole affair before any of us can reach the forest. He is determined to protect us, no matter what it costs him.”

“He thinks he’s already dead,” Aragorn said sadly, the argument with Legolas still fresh in his mind. A touch of anger resurfaced, as his mind added, *infuriating elf*, echoing what he had called Legolas earlier.

Elrond looked directly at the Mirkwood King. “You cannot go, Thranduil. You must stay far away from Mordraug. If you saw him harming Legolas, you might become overwhelmed emotionally and give in to his demands in order to save your son. It would be more than any father could be expected to endure.”

“Thank you for your concern, Elrond, but I have been the ruler of my kingdom for several millennia, so I am quite strong enough to do what I must to protect it,” Thranduil declared firmly. “I have to go.” His determination not to be swayed was evident. He seemed to have forgotten his earlier belief that the dark elf would not spare Legolas no matter what he did. He also seemed to forget that the poison was irreversible. In truth, he had forgotten none of it. But, now that he was faced with his son dying alone, far from him and his home he could not just sit and do nothing. At the least, he may be able to help Legolas destroy the dark elf once and for all before.... HIs mind refused to form the thought. If he should also fall against the dark elf, he knew his eldest son would carry on as a capable ruler for their people. He also knew that the rest of his family would fight for Mirkwood’s freedom to the last drop of their blood against all comers.

Aragorn seemed to realize in what direction Thranduil’s thoughts were aimed, as he watched the Wood elf’s face. “You and I will go,” he declared to the King.

Thranduil nodded and turned to go. When Aragorn began to follow, Elrond grabbed the man’s arm. “No, Estel. You are not part of this.” He steeled himself for an argument. He was not disappointed.

Estel looked back at his father with wide eyes. “Not part of this? How can you say that, Ada? Legolas is as much a part of me as any blood kin ever could be. We were together in the valley forest. I took care of him when he was unconscious. He is my best friend, my brother in spirit. I am standing here right now, because he has saved my life countless times during our friendship. Oh yes, I am very much a part of this, and I will go after him, like it or not.” Estel was sorry to speak to his father this way, but he was not about to be denied. He would go after Legolas.

“We will go, as well,” came Elladan’s voice. He and Elrohir had already indicated that they would follow their elven friend, but now the eldest of Elrond’s twins was clearly declaring it. He knew his father would not be pleased about all three of his sons heading out into danger, but he and Elrohir weren’t going to be denied, either. He didn’t even have to look at Elrohir to know he agreed completely.

When Elrond looked toward the twins, he saw that Elrohir was nodding. “There is no way we are letting Estel and Thranduil go alone. Besides, Legolas is our friend, too.” Elrohir stared back at his father. “You love him, too, Ada. You know he is doing this for all of us.”

Elrond sighed. He had no more arguments left. He knew it was true. He also knew that he really couldn’t stop any of his sons from going. They were all grown and had been making their own decisions for a long time. It was just his father’s heart that wanted to keep them safe in Rivendell.

“I will go with them,” Glorfindel said, coming into the debate for the first time. He hoped that his offer would not be construed as him wanting to go to protect the three sons of Elrond. He truly thought he could be of help. “I suffered watching the horror of what Mordraug did all those years ago, and I would like nothing better than to share in the revenge.” His eyes glinted with anticipation.

Elrond looked around at all the faces in the room with him. He could do nothing to prevent what was to come. “I will go with you, also. I was part of the beginning of it, and I will be part of what I hope will be the end of it.”

Somewhat to his own surprise, Elrond felt himself becoming eager to confront Mordraug. Normally, the elf Lord did not engage in retribution, but this was different. Elrohir was right. Mordraug needed to be stopped. Elrond’s only regret was that Legolas couldn’t be saved in the process.

Aragorn hadn’t wanted to interfere with the debate going on, as each elf made their own decision on what they would do. However, he had now reached a state of extreme impatience. “Then, come on. We must prepare and get started. Every moment of delay takes Legolas that much farther ahead of us. We must find him before he finds Mordraug.”

The man turned and headed out of the door, saying, “Meet at the stables in fifteen minutes.” Then, he was running down the hallway toward the stairs that led to the floor above where his room was located.

It wasn’t until he reached his room to gather his gear for the journey that Aragorn remembered the letter Legolas had left for Thranduil. He grabbed it off of the bed and put it in an inside pocket. He would decide later when the time was right to give it to the elven King. He knew the heartache it would bring, but Legolas had written it for his father, and had left it for the ranger to deliver. Estel could not, in good conscience, refuse to do so. He only hoped that the goodbye he was sure it contained would be an unnecessary one.

In exactly fifteen minutes, all the group was assembled at the stables. Elrond and Glorfindel had discarded their robes and in their place wore the clothes befitting warriors. It was a sight that the younger members of the group had rarely seen, since the warrior days of both were long behind them. Almost, it seemed.

They all stood together just outside the doors, as stable hands brought their horses out to them. Each member of the group began to load their packs and extra weapons onto their mounts.

The moon shone down on the group of five elves and one human, as they headed south down the road that each believed would take them to a harrowing encounter with evil.

Chapter Twenty One

Legolas rode through the night. The long strands of his golden hair that normally fell down the front of his shoulders, now flew out behind him as he leaned low over his stallion's neck. The horse, Elenblaith , <Starspirit> ate up the miles, as his hooves flew rhythmically down the road. The elf tried hard not to think about what he had done back in Rivendell, but he could not keep the thoughts at bay for long.

He had slugged his best friend and left him lying unconscious. Now, the last sight Estel would have of him alive was one of violence and betrayal. *It was necessary*, the archer told himself. It was the right thing to do to save his friend from following him to his own doom. Legolas would rather Estel hate him for the rest of his life than to see the man killed. He meant what he had said in the letter he had left. Estel was destined for legend. It would not be only among men but among all the races of Middle-earth. Even the elves who would later sail to Valinor would speak of him with awe and respect. The archer had no doubts about that.

Legolas was hoping that Estel would become so angry with him for punching him out that he would just turn his back and leave the elf to his fate. But, he knew better. He would never have had such feelings toward the ranger, if their roles were reversed. Estel had already demonstrated the depth of his brotherly love for Legolas so many times, including this last event with Mordraug, that the elf knew his friend would stop at nothing to come after him, alone if necessary. But, more than likely others would come, as well. It frightened him to think that Thranduil would also follow, as would the twins.

Spurred on by his fears for his father and his friends, Legolas unconsciously urged his horse even faster. He could not let these people that he loved face Mordraug. Even if the dark elf was somehow defeated, he could still inflict death and destruction on them all before he died. That was not acceptable in the elf’s mind.

The moon rose to its zenith and began its descent below the horizon. Finally, Legolas slowed down. He couldn't let his fears force him to run his horse into the ground, though he knew that to please his master Elenblaith would run until he dropped. The elf loved the stallion too much to risk his life, too. Also, on a purely practical note, he couldn't afford to end up on foot.

Legolas stopped as he reached a narrow stream that ran through a small group of stunted-looking trees a few miles from the Misty Mountains. There would be few trees ahead of him, as he rode south near the base of the mountains. The next true forest he would encounter would be in the valley he sought.

The elf dismounted and let the stallion drink his fill. The archer likewise drank what he needed. In his opinion, nothing beat cold, clear mountain water to refresh a body. He also filled a small water skin that he had not taken the time to fill before hastily leaving Rivendell. He ate a piece of lembas to keep his strength up. He would need all of it to face Mordraug.

Then, while his horse grazed nearby, Legolas swung himself up into the largest of the trees. It provided little in the way of shelter, as the branches were sparse, though the leaves had done their best to festoon what branches there were in springtime greenery. However, it was not shelter that Legolas was seeking.

The elf lay back against the squat trunk and gazed upward. He smiled, glad that the night sky was clear. Sitting in a tree, watching the stars sparkle like diamonds in the inky darkness of the heavens was soothing to his soul. Right then, and just for a few moments, he felt free of all the earthly cares that lay upon him. Mordraug, the poison in his body, the fear for his family, his home and his friends all faded into the background. He was a wood elf, and this was where he belonged. It mattered not that this wasn't his home. It mattered not that this was probably the last time he would ever find himself in this position. It mattered not that this particular tree would be little more than a sapling in Mirkwood. It mattered only that it was a tree, and the elf could find peace in its comforting presence.

For its part, the tree was happy just to have an elf resting in its branches. It had been many centuries since, as a strong, young tree, it had sheltered one of the Firstborn. Now, that its time in Middle-earth was almost spent, the long-forgotten memory was reawakened. The tree took as much pleasure in the presence of the elf, as the elf did sitting in the tree.

It seemed like only a few moments later that the eastern sky above the dark mountain tops began to lighten, causing the stars to begin to fade. Several seemed to wink out of existence as Legolas watched. He took a deep breath, as if he could inhale and absorb the splendor he had witnessed before it surrendered to the light of a new day.

With a sigh, Legolas jumped soundlessly to the ground and whistled for Elenblaith, who came to him and nickered softy, as the elf rubbed the stallion's velvety nose. His oneness with the tree and the stars was over. Now, he had to go back to concentrating on his self-imposed mission. Nothing else mattered now, least of all his own comfort.

The blond archer leaped gracefully onto Elenblaith's back, and the two turned once again down the road leading south toward the valley forest.

~*~*~

The group that had left Rivendell a little over an hour after Legolas was making good time. Yet, as hard as they were pushing their mounts, none of them believed that they were gaining much on the Mirkwood prince.

"We cannot keep this pace up much longer," Elladan felt compelled to say at last. "We must rest our horses, as I am sure Legolas has done." It irked him that they could not continue uninterrupted. Had they been able to do so, they would have had a much better chance to catch the woodland elf.

Unknown to them, Legolas had just resumed his journey and what little advantage they had gained while he rested would now be lost when they did likewise.

Even Thranduil and Aragorn saw the logic in Elladan's words. Reluctantly, they came to a halt. Neither one wanted to harm their mounts. And, like Legolas, they knew they could not afford to end up on foot. If that happened, the main purpose for their pursuit would be in vain, and even Aragorn believed that his friend would then be lost to them forever.

The group moved off of the road and walked toward a patch of grass near a group of large rocks that seemed to sprout up out of the ground. There were several trees scattered nearby.

Thranduil stood by his horse and gazed down the road so intensely that it was as if he was trying to spot his son riding along near the base of the mountains. *Where are you, Little One?*

He had not changed his thinking regarding Legolas's ultimate fate. It would have given him much strength, courage and joy to think he might be able to save his son. Even knowing he could not didn't dampen his determination to reach Legolas and do what he could to make his journey to the Halls of Mandos as easy as possible.

Thranduil knew that seeing his youngest child suffer the same agonizing death as his wife would scar his own soul far beyond anything he had experienced in his over five thousand years of life. He had been in shock when his wife had died. In a way that had, at the time, clouded his mind to the full horror of it on a personal level. Even seeing the other elves die by Mordraug's command had been in a swirl of disbelief. There would be no such shock or disbelief now, and the knowledge of what was to happen to Legolas ate at him mercilessly.

He had believed he had destroyed the dark elf all those years ago. Why hadn't he made sure? Thranduil couldn't help but believe his lack of thoroughness then was now allowing the current situation to take place. He shook his head. *Forgive me, ion nin.* It was a pitiful plea he knew, but there was nothing he could do to alter what was going to happen. He had been present when Legolas was born, and his sole intent now was to be with Legolas in his last moments of life, no matter how soul-wrenching it would prove to be. *I failed you before, Legolas, but I will not let you die alone.*

Thranduil's thoughts of Legolas's fate were currently going through Aragorn's head, as well. The only difference was that the ranger was still fully expecting to save his friend. No one was going to talk him out of that idea. Legolas had gone through too much to die now, and Aragorn had gone through too much to let him. He was a practical man and often had to engage in compromises, but when it came to his best friend, his mind would not allow him to accept anything that might take the archer from those that loved him. That was not going to happen.

Aragorn hesitated only briefly before walking up beside Thranduil and putting his hand on the King's arm. Ordinarily, he would never have even considered doing such a thing. Ordinarily, the King would not have allowed it. Now, the two stood side by side, bonded, for a while at least, in a common goal. "We will save him," Aragorn said softly.

Thranduil didn't argue. He knew the human would not accept the inevitable, and trying to convince him to do so was an exercise in futility. There was no way of knowing exactly how things would play out, when they finally reached the valley forest. Perhaps, if the man still thought he was saving his friend, he would fight harder against the dark elf. *No,* the King thought, *he would fight hard to help rid Middle-earth of Mordraug and his evil snake even if my son was not involved.* It was a concession that surprised Thranduil. He realized he had not only fully accepted the human as a part of his son's life but was glad for it. Yet, this change of attitude had come too late and at much too high a price.

Aragorn was startled a bit, when a hand touched his own arm. He spun his head around to see Elrohir standing on the other side of him, offering him some water. He hadn't realized he was so thirsty until he looked down at the water skin. He smiled at his elven brother. Lifting the skin to his lips, he took several long swallows. He then offered it to Thranduil.

The wood elf shook his head, at first, and then changed his mind and took it. Denying himself the refreshing liquid he needed wasn't going to help the situation in any way. He, also, took several swallows. "Hannon le," he said to both Aragorn and Elrohir.

"Ada says we will be here for a little while yet. We have to rest the horses long enough to do them some good, or all hope of catching Legolas will be lost." Elrohir had a moment's stab of guilt at saying that, especially in front of Thranduil. However, they all understood the situation well enough to know it had gone far beyond needing to be delicate with their words.

Thranduil nodded and handed the water skin back to the dark-haired elf, who took it and headed toward the rocks where his twin brother sat. The elven king then turned his attention back toward the road. There was no thought of resting himself. He was an elf and could go farther on less rest than mortal man or horse. He stood silent and unmoving.

Aragorn saw that there would be no more conversation coming from Thranduil. He wondered briefly if this was the right time to give Legolas's letter to the woodland king. He sighed. Yes, it had to be now. There might not be another chance. With reluctance, Aragorn reached inside his tunic and pulled out the letter. He handed it to the elf. "Legolas left this for me to give to you." Without another word, he turned and walked away.

The man sat down next to the twins, noting that Elrond and Glorfindel were sitting nearby, talking quietly. Aragorn lay back on the grass. He pushed all thoughts from his mind. It was the only way he knew to attain the rest he needed. Continuing to think about Legolas and Mordraug would only lead to more tension and turmoil. He deliberately did not look in Thranduil`s direction. Seeing the elf king's reaction to the letter would be more than Aragorn could handle right then. He closed his eyes.

Thranduil stared down at the piece of parchment. He slowly unfolded it and immediately recognized his son's handwriting. He knew what the letter meant without having to read a single word, yet there was no way he could avoid doing so. With a feeling of impending heartache, he began to read.

Dearest Ada.

There is so much I wish to say to you that I hardly know where to begin. I could write from now until dawn and not say everything to you that is in my heart.

First of all, please forgive me for what I am about to do. You know as well as anyone that there is no hope for me to survive this encounter with Mordraug. If I must sacrifice my life, I wish it to be for a cause that will allow you, my family and my friends to continue with your lives.

I want you to know that you have been the most important person in my life, since I first became aware of my own existence. You have loved and nurtured me, teaching me right from wrong. You taught me to be honorable when dealing with those I encountered, even other races. You encouraged me to seek knowledge and to use that knowledge to the betterment of myself and our people. You made me learn. Even when you scolded me for some misadventure or wrong I had done, you tempered it with love. You gave me my independence when I know you would have preferred to keep me safe at home. The driving force of my life has been to make you proud of me. You have always made me feel that I succeeded.

I remember the first time you took me hunting with you, the first time you let me ride a horse by myself, the first time you put a bow in my hands. All of these events gave me great joy. Yet, my fondest memory is of the many times I sat on your lap as an elfling with your arms around me, singing softly to me until I fell asleep. You have always---always---been there for me. Now, it is finally my turn to be there for you.

Please tell my brothers and sisters that I love them dearly. It saddens me that I will never get the chance to see them again or tell them goodbye. Give each of my nieces and nephews a kiss for me and tell them that their Uncle Legolas loved them.

I know you will grieve for me, as I would for you. But, I pray that you find comfort in knowing that I will spend eternity in the Halls of Mandos with Naneth.

I love you, Ada, with all my heart. Had I been able to choose a father for myself, I would have chosen none other.

Your loving son,

Legolas

Thranduil carefully refolded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. He walked away toward a lone tree several yards from where the others in the group rested. He climbed up into its branches and settled himself. Leaning his back against the tree's sturdy trunk, the King of Mirkwood cried.

Chapter Twenty Two

Legolas was forced to stop and rest both himself and Elenblaith several more times along the way. Even his elven endurance needed a break from the relentless pace he was setting. Happily for him, the nights remained clear and the stars shone as brightly as ever. However, there were no more trees to climb just as Legolas had believed. He saw them in the distance but couldn’t take the time to detour toward them. He kept his focus southward.

The elf was sure that his father, Estel and whoever of the others had come after him were forced to mirror his own movements and stop at least as often as he did. Believing this made him feel a little more comfortable. They wouldn’t be able to gain any time or distance on him that way. But, just to make sure, he intended on pushing as hard as he dared.

He knew it would take at least another full day to reach the secluded valley where Mordraug awaited. And, there was no doubt in the archer’s mind that the dark elf was waiting. Of course, Legolas knew that Mordraug was really expecting that Thranduil would be the one to show up, and that the attack on him in Rivendell had been merely a nudge in an effort to force the elven King to come to him.

The Mirkwood Prince dismounted and began to lead Elenblaith. The elf glanced back over his shoulder down the road he had just traveled. *Please, Ada, do not follow me. We both know what awaits, and I would have you safe,* he thought with grim determination. He shook his head, knowing full well that the plea was in vain, because Thranduil was most assuredly behind him and trying hard to catch up.

He idly wondered if Estel had given Thranduil his letter yet. He knew the reading of it would be harder than the writing of it had been. Yet, he thought that, in time, the letter would be a comfort to his father. At least, he hoped so.

In a little over an hour Legolas, who had remounted and was riding swiftly again, left the road and started cross country to the southeast. The road bypassed the valley by many miles and while it had afforded him smooth going until now, continuing on it any longer would take him too far from his destination.

He and Elenblaith would now be moving across ground that was broken and strewn with rocks. both large and small. He would have to slow his pace. In Legolas's mind, the only good thing about it was that those following would need to do the same. As long as they did, he could keep ahead of them.

Elenbllaith was making better time than Legolas had dared hope. The gray stallion picked his way among the rocks and up and down the little hills and valleys of the broken land and still managed to keep to a gallop most of the time. It brought a smile to the elf’s face. He was letting the horse choose his own path and speed, and he was being rewarded by seeing the scenery move past him fairly rapidly.

Legolas rode into the night and once again stopped to take a break. As he himself rested, he thought of Estel. He missed having the ranger with him. So many times they had left either Rivendell or Mirkwood together to go hunting, or to track down the details of some mystery that had intrigued them. More than once, Elrond had sent them, sometimes with the twins, to gather information of some kind. Often they had just wanted to be in each other’s company for a while. There were a whole myriad of reasons that the two friends had gone adventuring together. Now, those times had come to an end, all because of Mordraug’s ambition to rule Mirkwood.

Unwilling to continue his dark thoughts of what lay ahead, Legolas wanted to lighten the mood in his mind. So, he searched through his memories for one of the more humorous moments of the journeys he and Estel had made. As if to give him a helping hand with his search, thunder began to rumble over the mountains where dark clouds had moved in, though they didn’t seem to be threatening th elf’s location, which remained clear. The wind was blowing them to the north. However, it served to remind him of an incident that happened several years ago.

***

Estel had gone to the woodland realm in the hopes of getting Legolas so they could go hunting. Thranduil had not been pleased to see the human show up. His first thought had been to tell Aragorn that Legolas was too busy with his patrols to go off on a vacation. Legolas had known his father’s thoughts simply because he knew his father. Legolas came close to telling Thranduil that his trips with Estel were often too harrowing to be called vacations. Real life was the vacation. He had thought better of mentioning that little comment, knowing that doing so would surely end all hope of leaving with his friend.

Legolas kept his mouth shut except to ask for permission to go. He was full grown, but he was also a subject of the King, as well as one of the realm’s most valuable warriors, so Thranduil would have to temporarily release him from his duties. Legolas was actually due a leave, as all warriors received every three months, from the stresses of the constant dangers that were spreading inside of Mirkwood.

“Why does it always have to be something involving that human,* Thranduil had thought at the time. In the end, the King, to please his son, had given his permission, with the stipulation that Legolas return in no more than eight days. He was determined that his son would spend a few quiet days of his leave with his family. Legolas had happily agreed.

The elf and the ranger rode through the forest of Mirkwood until they finally broke out of the trees and headed for the Anduin. They rode along the river’s eastern shore, passing closer to Dol Guldûr than they would have liked. However, they soon left the evil place behind them without even a hint of trouble. That fact alone should have given them cause to worry about what might yet happen.

Before the two friends could reach their intended choice of hunting grounds, it started raining. It rained, and it rained, and it rained. For three days it rained relentlessly. There was not a single patch of skin or cloth on either of them that wasn’t soaked through. Even their horses were finding the torrential downpour exceedingly unpleasant.

Estel had the hood of his cloak pulled done low over his face, but it did noting to keep the man‘s head dry. Water constantly dripped down along the edges of the fabric. He felt like he was standing behind a waterfall.

Legolas normally wasn’t bothered too much by rain, but even an elf got tired of being exposed for three days to the torrents that were assaulting him. He couldn’t believe that there could be that much water in the low gray clouds that seemed to hang just above their heads. *The rest of Middle-earth must be exceedingly dry,* he mused.

As much as he loved Nature, Legolas had finally had enough of this particular part of it and pulled the hood of his own cloak over his head. He soon found himself behind the twin of the waterfall that plagued his human companion.

As bad luck would have it, the particular stretch of land they were passing through was flat and there was no shelter to be found anywhere near. They would have to keep moving to reach the caves that littered the high ridges above the river several miles south. At least, they had hope. Shelter wasn’t too far away.

“I’ve never seen it rain this hard for this long,” the ranger said to his elven friend, riding close beside him. “I think the Valar is against us.” He chuckled to himself, then added, “I think your father pleaded his case to them so you’d return to Mirkwood much sooner than you planned.” Aragorn made a sound that closely resembled a growl. “This is ridiculous.”

Legolas laughed. “You sure do get grumpy when you get wet.”

“This goes beyond just wet,” Aragorn grumbled. “I think my bones are soaked.”

Legolas laughed even harder. It may have been a musical sound in ordinary circumstances, but it came at the wrong time, because right then it greatly irritated the man. Aragorn glared at his friend. “Impossible elf,” he muttered.

The ‘impossible elf’ shook his head. He mumbled something, but not having the same elven hearing that his friend had, Aragorn couldn‘t make out what was being said. Under the circumstances, he could well imagine it wasn’t a compliment.

Finally, after several more hours, they entered hilly terrain and Legolas soon led the way to a small cave in the closest ridge to them. It wasn’t deep or overly high, but it was large enough to fit the two companions and both of their horses into. There was even room to turn around inside---barely.

Water dripped down from several fissures in the stone ceiling, and formed little puddles in various places on the cave floor. The water that dripped from their hair and clothes added to the puddles. They could not start a fire, since all potential fuel was soaked as badly as they were. There would be no warmth in the chilly cave and no hot meal. Having to sit in drenched clothes, with no way to dry them, served to add to their misery.

All of those things were wearing their nerves thin. It didn’t take long for tempers to flare.

“There are other caves around here,” Aragorn complained morosely. “Couldn’t you have found one a bit larger? I keep getting hit in the face by a long tail.” The man swatted at his horse’s tail for what seemed like the dozenth time, trying to get it out of his mouth where several long strands had stuck. He couldn’t move far enough to get away from the water that dropped down on him from above. He also couldn’t put his feet anywhere that was not in a puddle of water.

Legolas just stared at the human. “I found us shelter, which I noticed you were eager enough to enter a few moments ago. Besides, you are a ranger. Could you not have been the one to locate sufficient shelter?”

“I seem to recall you saying, ‘I know just the place.’ I merely followed you, thinking, erroneously it appears, that you would lead us to a cave we could actually fit into. After all, you are the one who lives on this side of the mountains.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” the elf asked with irritation in his voice. “I repeat. You are the ranger here, always traveling far and wide. You act like you have never been around here before. I was simply trying to find the first place that offered us a chance to get in out of the rain. I certainly would not have stopped you from pointing out another cave that would have been more suitable, if you had bothered to do so.” Anger flashed in the elf’s blue-gray eyes.

Legolas turned around and tried to set his pack down in a corner of the cave. It kept falling over, which didn‘t improve his mood any. “You are the one that is always telling me how good you are at finding things.” He mumbled the words, almost to himself, but Aragorn heard them well enough.

Legolas sat down in a move that little resembled elven grace. He had finally stuffed his pack into a small crevice and stared at it, seemingly daring it to fall out.

“Maybe, it would have been better if your father had kept you in Mirkwood on patrol. It couldn’t have soured your mood any worse than the rain has,” Aragorn declared petulantly.

“The rain has not soured my mood. It is the company I am keeping.” A measure of familiar arrogance had crept into the elf’s voice.

The two glared at each other. Legolas narrowed his eyes. Most people would have been forced to look away from that stare. Aragorn was not fazed by it in the least. Not only had he seen it numerous times on Legolas's face, but he had also grown up seeing that same look on Lord Elrond‘s face, who Estel decided was the only one he knew who could outstare the Mirkwood prince.

Since neither of the companions could move far from the other, they just turned away with their backs to each other. Both refused to say another word, preferring to stew in silence.

After only a few moments Aragorn began to laugh. Legolas turned his head and glanced sideways at his friend and then joined in the laughter. The two turned to face each other. “We are acting like children,” the elf said, almost sheepishly.

“I know,” Aragorn admitted, equally as sheepish. “It’s only water. We shouldn’t let it ruin our friendship.”

“Ruin our friendship? That is a little dramatic, is it not?”

Aragorn grinned. “A little, I guess. All right, ruin is a bit overstated,” he admitted.

The two companions then moved closer to each other. Aragorn dug into his pack and pulled out two pieces of dried meat, which were a bit on the soggy side. “Hungry?” he asked, as he handed one of the pieces to the elf.

Legolas nodded and took the offering. He wrinkled his nose at the slightly spongy piece of meat, then shrugged and took a bite. He didn’t care for the damp texture, but it tasted fine.

“I’m just glad there were no witnesses to the display of our lack of maturity,” the ranger said with obvious relief.

“There were two,” the elf said, pointing at the two stallions standing almost on top of them. Both companions could have sworn that their horses were grinning at them.

The laughter of ranger and archer was soon bouncing around the walls of the small cave.

“Shall we look for larger quarters?” Aragorn asked.

“We might as well,” Legolas replied. “We certainly cannot get any wetter in the attempt.”

***

That memory was only a tiny moment in all the vast collection of them that the two friends had shared, but it was one that now put a smile on the elf’s face. There were so very many moments to remember that Legolas hoped that, in time, Estel would think of them and be as glad that he had known the elf, as Legolas was that he had known the ranger.

Still smiling, Legolas watched the stars until it was time to resume the journey.

By midmorning of the next day, Legolas was again resting Elenblaith by walking for a time. The horse followed close behind his elven master.

When the two rounded an outcropping of high rocks, Legolas stopped in his tracks, causing the gray stallion to bump into the elf’s back. Legolas took no notice, because no more than two miles ahead of him rose the cliffs that surrounded the valley forest.

To the casual observer the cliffs looked solid, more like a mountain with the top flattened out. No one who didn’t know would even guess that those cliffs contained a valley covered by a lush, though dark, forest.

Luckily, Aragorn had explained to him how to find the hidden entrance when they had approached from the opposite end three weeks earlier. Since he had been unconscious when they had left this end of the valley, Legolas hadn’t seen it for himself. Yet, he was sure Estel’s detailed description would prove quite accurate.

Legolas stared at the spot in the rock facing where he believed the gap that would take him toward Mordraug was located. With a sigh, he mounted Elenblaith and headed directly toward it.

Chapter Twenty Three

Thunder continued to rumble over the Misty Mountains, as the group from Rivendell moved over the same broken ground that Legolas had crossed an hour before. The clouds were still staying above the rocky peaks and right at that moment it looked like they were dumping a torrent of rain on the eastern slopes. However, the sun was still shining above the travelers, and they all fervently hoped it stayed that way.

The memory of Legolas's fist smashing into his face kept coming back to Aragorn. There was not the slightest hint of anger at the elf for doing it. If anything, he felt anger at himself for not figuring out what Legolas had planned to do. He was no mind reader, but he knew his friend as well as he knew himself. He should have realized that the elf would do something to try and protect those he loved.

Elladan and Elrohir rode up beside their foster brother, as they were all forced to slow their pace over this stretch of the rocky ground. They looked at Estel and then looked across at each other. Elladan shook his head, then said, “Why do you always feel guilty whenever you find that you cannot control a situation?”

Aragorn was not surprised that his thoughts had been read so easily in the expression on his face. “I should have known he was planning something like this,” the ranger replied softly, looking at first one twin and then the other. Then he looked down and shook his head.

“Why is that?” Elrohir asked.

“I know him. He would do anything to protect his father and his friends---us---from harm. I should have been more alert to his elven tricks.”

“I repeat. Why is that?”

“Because, he’s done it before.”

Once again the twins looked at each other. This time there was a look of disbelief on their faces.

Elladan recovered first. “He has hit you before? I never heard that. When did this happen?”

“And why?” Elrohir added. He was as intrigued as his twin brother to hear that tale. This incident in Rivendell was the first time he had heard of either friend hitting the other outside of a playful cuff after one had given the other some kind of insult.

“We were on our way to Lorien. It was about five years ago, I think. There had been reports of orcs riding wargs in the area where we were, so we decided to travel close to the Anduin, hoping we could avoid them in the open stretches beyond the treeline.

“The orcs decided to do the same thing. It didn’t take long for us to run right into three of them. They didn’t see us at first. Then, I slipped in some mud, fell and hurt both my left leg and my right arm, as I rolled over some rocks. They spotted us then and headed our way. I couldn’t walk or draw my sword or an arrow. Legolas quickly dragged me into the brush, and I protested rather vehemently. I even tried to crawl out of the brush and follow him. He didn’t want me trying to fight off the wargs and their riders in my condition, so without saying a word, he came back to me and just punched me and knocked me out. He had never done that before, and I was totally unprepared for it, just as I was unprepared this last time.”

Elrohir, though sorry his brother had been hurt, was much more interested in the outcome of the warg fight. “What happened?” he asked rather anxiously.

"When I finally came to and dragged myself out of the brush, I saw that there were two warg bodies by the river and three dead orcs nearby. According to Legolas, he ran the last warg off with an arrow in its neck. I doubt it made it very far. Legolas was sitting on the ground, because, of course, he ended up getting himself injured worse than I was, though luckily, not too seriously. It happened because he was protecting me." The ranger shook his head. "He's so stubborn."

“He is not the only one,” Elladan remarked. “You have a stubborn streak, too, when it comes to feeling guilty. You always seem so determined to take the blame for the bad things that happen, even if you are in no way at fault.”

Aragorn looked indignant. “I only feel guilty about things that are my fault,” he declared defensively, a big frown on his face. He had spoken so seriously that despite the fact the statement sounded almost comical, neither twin could bring themselves to laugh.

“Of course,” was all Elrohir said, though it was a little on the sarcastic side.

Elladan looked at Aragorn with something approaching sympathy. “You said yourself you could not use a sword or a bow. If you had been out in the middle of the fight, you would have had only a knife for defense and then Legolas would have had to worry about you, as well as the wargs and orcs. Then, he could have been very badly hurt---or killed. Think about it, Estel.”

Elrohir raised his eyebrows in a gesture that all but dared the man to argue with his twin’s logic.

Elladan didn’t give Estel a chance to agree or disagree with what he had said, when he quickly returned to the original point that was being discussed. “You say you know Legolas so well. Then, you know he would have found some way to accomplish his goal. You could not have stopped him, Estel, whether you suspected some trick or not.”

“I could have hit him first,” the ranger suggested, “then tied him up.”

Elrohir laughed. “I imagine you would have tried that very thing, if it had occurred to you to do so. But, you still are not to blame for what happened. Legolas has a mind of his own, as we all know quite well, and will do whatever he sees fit to do.” He had no intention of mentioning the poison that was firmly ingrained in Legolas's body. It would serve no purpose but to cause more distress for the human.

There was no sense in arguing with his brothers about this, so Aragorn just took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then, he saw the land in front of him flatten out and quickly urged his horse forward at a run. The twins were right behind him, and the rest of the group soon followed.

Thranduil was in the rear, having been unusually quiet since reading Legolas's letter. It took only a moment for him to pass both Elrond and Glorfindel. He was not going to be the last one to reach his son.

~*~*~

It didn’t take long for Legolas to reach the spot where he believed the hidden gap in the cliffs was located. Even close up, the opening was cleverly concealed. There was not the slightest hint of a trail or pathway that would give the opening’s existence away. The slightly sandy ground looked undisturbed, probably swept clean of any tracks there might have been by the almost constant wind that blew down from the mountains.

It was only when close up and moving at a slight angle that the elf could discern the subtle shift in the look of the uneven cliff face. The gap in the rock would appear non-existent to anyone who didn’t know to look for it.

He headed into the gap.

The opening and beyond allowed for only the width of a horse with barely three feet more than that to spare. Legolas turned left and moved down a dirt trail between stone that soared several hundred feet above his head, ending in a narrow opening overhead that was the only thing keeping the pathway from becoming a true tunnel. The sun had to be directly above the opening before sunlight could shine down to the ground. At present, Legolas was in deep shadow.

After going a few yards, the trail turned back on itself and he found himself going in the opposite direction. A few more yards and it turned back again. This zig-zagging continued for several more turns and then suddenly opened out onto the canopied forest he well remembered. Looking at it, he felt the same foreboding he had felt, when he and Estel had been here before. Now, however, he knew what the foreboding warned him of. That knowledge didn’t ease his mind any. If anything, it increased his fear. He couldn’t keep his body from shuddering.

Mordraug could not have picked a better place to hide out, if indeed this was where he called home. He could go undiscovered and undisturbed for ages and evidently had, because until the attack on Legolas almost three weeks ago, no one had caught sight of the dark elf in close to two millennia. Or perhaps, it was just that no one had lived to tell about the encounter.

Elenblaith stamped nervously. The stallion evidently felt the darkness that permeated the forest just ahead of him, as acutely as he had the last time he had been there. He was also very attuned to the uneasy feelings of his master.

Legolas bent forward and stroked Elenblaith’s neck, speaking soothing elvish words to calm the horse. The elf could feel the tense muscles beneath him. He realized that his own muscles were taut, as well. There was no way staying here and staring into the trees would get anything accomplished, so he started forward cautiously.

In less than two minutes, the trees closed in over Legolas's head. The forest looked just as it had previously. If he hadn’t known any different, he would have believed that he was again moving into the forest from the opposite end, so alike did everything look from this end to that.

Legolas started down the right hand trail. Unlike the first time he was here, he now knew it didn’t really matter which one he took. Mordraug would make his presence known, when he was ready.

The archer wondered if the dark elf was aware that it was Mirkwood’s prince and not its king that had entered the forest. He didn’t know how keen Mordraug’s powers were. He was no wizard or magician of any kind, so there was a question as to what kind of powers the snake could have given him, if any. It was possible that the snake possessed all the power and Mordraug only gave the commands.

For all Legolas knew, Mordraug could be watching him at this very moment. If the prickling on the back of his neck was any indication, he probably was.

The young elven archer moved deeper into the trees, now clearly feeling eyes upon him. He wondered how long it would be before Mordraug confronted him. Knowing he had only an hour’s leeway, Legolas decided that if Mordraug didn’t reveal himself soon, he would have to force the issue.

Five minutes later, Mordraug left the trees and walked out onto the pathway in front of Legolas. His look was grim, and his eyes flashed in anger. He was plainly not happy to be seeing Legolas instead of Thranduil.

Legolas couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the dark elf‘s displeasure. The time had definitely come to settle matters.

Chapter Twenty Four

Mordraug glared up at the blond elf, sitting straight and proud atop his gray stallion. "Why are you here?" he demanded with a snarl. A scowl graced his face, and it was easy to believe it belonged there.

"I came to settle matters with you once and for all," Legolas replied, pretending that he hadn‘t noticed the emphasis on the word ‘you’. He had been planning this confrontation since the attack he had suffered in Rivendell, yet now that he was actually face to face with this evil elf again, he found he had to work at keeping his composure, and that included forcing the memories of what had happened in this place back into the recesses of his mind. How well that was going to work would not take long to discover.

Mordraug's irritated voice instantly brought Legolas back from his thoughts to full awareness. "Thranduil is supposed to be here, not you." The dark elf's attitude, as he spoke the last two words, was more than just anger. It was almost dismissive of the elf before him.

"There was no need for my father to come," Legolas answered more calmly than he felt. "He is not going to give you what you want. Mirkwood will never be yours,” he declared emphatically. “I should think that you would know that by now." There was no mistaking the defiance in Legolas's words and condescending tone.

"So, the great king of the wood elves sends his youngest son to face death in his place. I am not surprised. I have always known that he is a coward at heart, also being descended from cowards." A sneer crossed Mordraug's face. He wanted to aggravate this young elf, and he was sure that insulting his father and his heritage was the easiest way to do it. He was wrong.

Legolas remembered declaring in his previous encounter with Mordraug that his father was no coward. It was a waste of time to declare it again. Defending his heritage was also a waste of time. He knew Mordraug was trying to provoke him into perhaps revealing some secret information or making some kind of mistake, and he was not going to fall into that trap. "No one sent me,” he said finally. “This is between you and me now. I am the one that you attacked. Therefore, it is logical that I am the one to face you now."

The sneer on Mordraug's face broadened, as another thought struck him. He wondered if Legolas had been told that the poison in his body could not be removed or neutralized. If not, it would give him a great deal of pleasure to reveal it. With that in mind, he said, "Do you know that the venom that is running through your veins is irreversible---and fatal?"

Legolas looked straight into Mordraug’s dark eyes. "I am well aware of that fact. I know what awaits me."

Mordraug frowned. *Elrond,* he thought with a bitter growl. *That insufferable, meddling....* He was too angry to finish the thought. The elf believed that no one else held the knowledge about the venom, and so it was likely that Elrond was the one who revealed his impending death to this prince. Mordraug wasn't sure which he hated more, at that moment, Thranduil or Elrond. Still, there was a definite positive to Elrond‘s meddling. Knowing that this wood elf had surely spent time pondering the inevitable loss of his immortality and the painful manner by which it would occur was a good thing, a very good thing.

Now, Mordraug was smiling. He bent his left arm at the elbow and held it up in front of him.

Despite his best efforts, Legolas could not keep his eyes from moving down to the slender black snake that was wrapped around the extended arm. The memories could not be held at bay any longer, and a tingling sensation made its way down his spine, ending in a shiver.

Feeling the elf's intense stare, the snake, who had been still and quiet until then, slowly lifted its head almost a foot above the arm it curled around. With a mesmerizing seductiveness it began to undulate slowly side to side in the same way it had done the first time Legolas had seen it. The elf’s' blue-gray eyes followed every move, unable to turn away. His heart began to pound harder, sounding like thunder in his ears. His breathing became quick and shallow.

The memory of the snake's needle-sharp fangs sinking into the soft flesh inside his mouth and injecting its venom made him visibly shudder. His mouth began to ache. Or, was it just those memories in his mind making him think so? He felt his fear rising, and he swallowed hard. He then chided himself for his weakness. It didn't occur to him that even the bravest warrior in Middle-earth, who found himself in that same situation, would have been equally as fearful. To him this fear was a flaw, and he hated acknowledging that fact to himself.

He believed that being bitten again would do him no more damage than had already been done. Yet, his fear continued unabated. Legolas's face reflected his grim determination not to appear helpless in front of this evil being, vowing to keep his courage strong. He had betrayed his best friend, likely broken his father’s heart and come too far to let these emotions cripple him now. He knew he needed to do something before his fear turned to panic and immobilized him.

Without warning, Legolas drew the twin knives that he had put in his belt. His bow and quiver were strapped on Elenblaith. He had known that, even as swift as he was with a bow, he would probably only have had one shot at Mordraug, and he felt there would have been little chance of hitting his target. Mordraug was also a swift elf, after all. and Legolas had never, in all his long life, fired an arrow at another elf. So, more than likely, if he had even attempted to shoot Mordraug, the elf would have simply avoided the arrow and disappeared back into the trees.

Legolas swung his right leg over Elenblaith’s neck and slid down from the horse's back, all the while facing forward and keeping his eyes on the Avari before him. "Now, it is time to finish it," he declared.

Mordraug stared at the half-crouching elf, whose blades were now moving back and forth in front of him. The dark elf laughed. "You seem very eager to engage in combat with me. Why do you wish to hasten your death?"

Legolas wasn't about to answer that question. Mordraug could not find out that Thranduil, Estel, and possibly others, were not only on their way there but would be arriving before long. Instead, he said, "Why are you not in a hurry to see that happen? I would think that watching me die would be a distinct pleasure for you."

"Indeed, it will be. But, I do not want it to happen too quickly. I wish to savor your fear first," Mordraug replied, stating the last sentence with the same relish he would have done, if referring to the enjoyment of a juicy piece of meat.

However, Mordraug's own questions had begun to make him suspicious. Why, he wasn't sure, since it was actually logical for the silvan elf to want to try and kill him and his pet as soon as possible. Or was it? Wouldn't he want to play this scene out as long as possible to try and find a weakness in the dark elf's defenses? Wouldn't he want to question and probe until he found something he could try and exploit? No, there was a definite reason the prince was trying to finish this quickly, even if he knew his own death was at the end of it.

Mordraug decided that he needed to get away and give himself more time to figure out what this clever young elf was up to. There was too much at risk to rush into anything. He had to stall. A smile came to Mordraug’s face, as he thought of the perfect place to go to think. It was also the perfect place for his eventual revenge.

He knew that as soon as he turned his back, Legolas would take that opportunity to try and drive both long knives into his retreating back. That, of course, would never do. Mordraug held his left arm straight out to the side, as he turned his back on Legolas and started walking away.

The snake looked toward Legolas, and then his eyes flashed with that same inner red glow it had displayed before it had bitten the archer previously. A searing pain exploded through Legolas's body. It wasn't quite as bad as the attack at Rivendell, but it was bad enough to knock him to his knees and stop him from using his knives, which was all that Mordraug wanted for now.

Mordraug didn't have to turn around to see what had happened. He laughed when he heard the involuntary cry of pain that escaped Legolas's lips. *Another weakness,* the woodland elf thought unhappily, as he panted for breath.

When Legolas was finally able, he looked up and saw that Mordraug was no where in sight. It took a few moments for the pain to subside enough for the elf to get to his feet. He swayed precariously but didn't lose his balance. It took several attempts to make his muscles obey his commands. His whole body hurt, but the fire that had swept through him was gone. His head felt a little woozy, yet his vision remained focused.

"Who is the coward now?" he managed to shout, although the sound was not as harsh as he intended nor as strong as he wanted. Still, he was sure it was heard quite clearly.

Legolas realized that he still clutched both of his knives in his hands. He put them back in his belt and started off, rather unsteadily at first, after the dark elf.

Elenblaith began to follow. The archer turned and held his hand up, stopping the horse’s advance. He rubbed the stallion's forehead and told him to go into the trees but to stay near the trail. He believed that when the final confrontation was over, the horse would be found. He would be taken home, possibly bearing his master's body. Legolas sighed. There was no time to think about that now.

He watched as the horse disappeared into the trees to the right of the path before he turned and headed once again toward where his keen senses told him Mordraug had gone. The evil that the Avari and the snake radiated was as easy for an elf to follow as a physical trail left by clumsy, heavy-footed orcs.

Orcs. Legolas suddenly remembered that two orcs had held him while the snake bit him. He shivered again at the memory of their rough hands holding him immobile. He also remembered their laughter at his fears. A surge of hatred swept through him. He despised those foul creatures. Legolas forced his mind to calm itself.

Where were the orcs now? The elf nodded in sudden understanding. The overly thick canopy of trees made the forest naturally a little gloomy, and it was easy to forget that there was bright sunshine outside of these woods. However, the low light did not quite make the forest dark enough for orcs to be comfortable. Wherever they were, they would be hiding until nightfall. That, at least, was an advantage for Legolas, though Mordraug evidently didn't think he needed their help. *Ego precedes a fall,* Legolas thought, remembering the phrase from one of his school masters, during a warrior training lesson on teamwork. *Perhaps, I can take advantage of Mordraug’s monumental ego.*

A good hundred yards farther down the trail, Legolas saw that Mordraug had moved into the trees. He had no idea where the dark elf was going, but it didn’t matter. Legolas was going to keep following him until he stopped. And, stop he would, because the blond warrior knew that Mordraug was leading him somewhere in particular.

A few moments later, Legolas began to feel a tugging on the edges of his mind. His body had now recovered, but there was definitely something nagging at him that he couldn’t quite grasp. He looked around him but didn’t detect anything that might be the source of his mental discomfort.

Then suddenly, he knew what the feeling was trying to tell him, as he realized that his surroundings were becoming familiar. Legolas now knew where Mordraug was leading him, so he picked up his pace.

~*~*~

Mordraug had been thinking hard during his walk through the forest. He kept asking why the Mirkwood prince would want to hasten his own death. The obvious thought kept coming back to him that the young elf had come here alone to face him. Why? Was there more to it than his declaration that it should be him, because he was the one who had been attacked. There had to be more.

Over and over he mulled the puzzle until, all at once, it hit him. Alone. Of course. The wood elf had seemingly come alone. But, had he really?

Mordraug may have been in virtual exile for almost two millennia, but he had not been totally unaware of events in the world outside of this forest. He had often sent his orc slaves out to spy on the goings on in Mirkwood. Many had been killed by the elven warriors of that realm, but enough had made it back to keep him informed of current events. He knew for instance, about the close friendship that Mirkwood’s youngest prince had formed with the human ranger. He also knew of his close ties with Elrond’s twin sons. Then, of course, there was his father, Thranduil.

Mordraug realized that none of them would have let this young archer make this journey by himself. So, he was now sure that those others were also coming. That had to be it. Perhaps, they were planning on entering from the other end of the valley. Perhaps, they were already in the forest, and Legolas was just a diversion until they reached their intended target---him.

Mordraug found it hard to believe that anyone could enter this forest, and he wouldn’t be aware of it. Mordraug was convinced that they hadn’t arrived quite yet, and that this silvan elf was, at present, truly alone. That still did not explain why Legolas was in such a hurry to combat Mordraug before his ‘help’ arrived.

Well, whatever they had planned wasn’t going to work. He and his pet had faced the Lords of Mirkwood, Rivendell and Lothlorien along with almost a dozen elven warriors all those years ago---and won. He didn’t think that there would be any warrior guards with them now. He believed that they, with their own egos, would want to defeat him without any outside help. He found himself eagerly awaiting their arrival. The prince he could easily control until they showed up.

Legolas stopped when he saw Mordraug standing in the center of the same clearing where he had been attacked and bitten by the snake. He had been right about where Mordraug had been heading.

The Avari had his back to Legolas, who was just about to make his presence known, when he heard Mordraug say challengingly, “Come, Thranduil. I cannot wait until you arrive to try and save your son. I hope you are coming, too, Elrond. And, I welcome whoever else you are bringing with you. None of you will escape. This time, you will all die.”

Legolas froze, and a knot formed in his stomach. *He knows!* he thought in dismay. *He knows they are coming.*

Chapter Twenty Five

A cold chill shot through Legolas’s heart, as he heard Mordraug speak those challenging words. He couldn’t be sure if they were spoken in anger solely toward his father and Elrond, or if he knew that Legolas was listening, and the words were meant for him to hear. Either way, he was dismayed to learn that the dark elf knew that others would soon be arriving.

The elven prince was forced to take slow, measured breaths to calm himself. He had to think rationally. That would have been fine, he told himself, if he had all the time in the world to get this matter settled with Mordraug. But, he did not. He had to finish it before his father and Estel arrived. At the same time, irrational thoughts and worse yet, actions, would not accomplish anything. He had to find something in the middle.

The blond archer slowly raised his head a few inches to see if Mordraug was still facing away from him. He was. His demeanor was almost relaxed. In fact, he had the air of someone who hadn’t a care in the world. Perhaps, in Mordraug’s mind, he didn’t. He was certainly confident he would win the upcoming battle with little trouble. Legolas was determined that that would not be the case.

Legolas couldn’t see the snake, since Mordraug held it in front of him. He knew, however, that the black serpent didn’t need to be anywhere near him to bring about an attack. He had learned that painful lesson all too well in Rivendell.

Legolas made up his mind what he would do and instantly acted upon it. There was neither need nor time to ponder that decision once it had been made. The elf drew his knives once again and prepared to throw one at Mordraug‘s back. He felt no compunction at making this kind of sneak attack. He much preferred facing an opponent, but Mordraug did not fight with honor, and Legolas had already realized that, in this case, he could not afford that luxury, either. If his honor was sacrificed in order to defeat Mordraug, so be it.

Mordraug, with his keen elven hearing, was aware of the movement behind him, recognizing it instantly for what it was. He whirled around, and ducked just a second before the knife would have buried itself in his flesh. The blade flew past and landed in the brush on the far side of the clearing, very near where the dead rabbit had lain.

Legolas was dismayed to see that Mordraug had deftly avoided the blade. There was only one thing left to do. With his one remaining knife, he sprang from the brush and charged the dark elf, rapidly closing the distance between them. He hoped that Mordraug wouldn’t be expecting a frontal assault this early in the battle.

Legolas was right. Mordraug was actually expecting another knife to come his way. With this in mind, he kept his eyes on the knife Legolas was now switching to his right hand.

Legolas sprinted the last few feet toward the dark elf. He refused to consider that this surprise attack might be the only advantage over the Avari that he would ever have

The charge quickly turned out to be no advantage at all. Mordraug waited until the last second and then sidestepped Legolas just before he could be impaled on the long knife the young elf held out in front of him.

Legolas heard a hiss in his ear, as his momentum carried him past Mordraug. He then felt a sharp pain on the left side of his head. He knew immediately that it was not the strike of a snake. Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw the dark elf’s fist move past his head.

Mordraug had reacted with anger, when he saw Legolas coming at him with long knife in hand. After stepping aside, he had balled his right hand into a fist and swung it at the charging elf’s head. It was an instinctive move, and he didn’t know if the blow would connect or not. He smiled when his fist landed solidly above Legolas’s left ear.

Legolas was not expecting to be hit with a fist, and thus did not move from his straight line charge. The pain from the blow was intense but did not deter him from his purpose.

Fortunately for him, Legolas did not fall or lose his balance. Instead, he whirled around and charged Mordraug again. Despite the blow Mordraug had given him, Legolas’s knife had remained level. He had decided that another quick charge was the best plan of attack, at this point. But, this time rather than trying to strike Mordraug, he took a swipe at the snake’s head.

The snake’s response was a swift one. Angered, the serpent did not wait for a command from Mordraug. It immediately rose up and struck at the fair elf. Legolas had raised his hand up in a defensive move, and the snake’s lowered fangs met with the flat blade of Legolas’s knife. The wood elf couldn’t believe his good luck.

The snake was enraged, but before it could strike again, Mordraug had put a restraining hand around the snake’s neck. “Stay your anger, my pet,” he said soothingly, as he began to stroke the black head. “For now, I wish him merely immobilized.”

Legolas had no time to prepare for what he knew was about to happen. The small yellow eyes that were now very close to his face flashed red and fire once again exploded through the elf’s body. For the second time in less than half an hour, the prince found himself on his knees, panting more from the shock to his system than loss of breath, though that was certainly part of it. He stared down at his knife, which was now lying harmlessly on the ground. He hadn’t remembered dropping it.

His mind was screaming at him to do something. He tried reaching for the knife, but his arm barely moved, refusing to obey his command. He felt the same way he had one time years ago, when he was caught in a strong river current, and he had tried to reach out for a nearby log to keep himself from being swept over a waterfall. The current had effectively kept his arm from moving forward.

There was only air between his hand and his knife now, yet he might as well have been fighting against the river current for all the success he was having. He reminded himself grimly that he had never been able to grab the log, either. His oldest brother had rescued him then. He laughed bitterly to think that he was actually wishing no one would show up to rescue him now. If he died at the same moment Mordraug did, this whole mission would be a success and he could go to the Halls of Mandos in peace. If only that would come to pass.

Mordraug stood and laughed down at him. “What is wrong, little one? Can you not pick up your own knife?”

Legolas’s head came up slowly, eyes narrowed, and he glared in pure hatred at the Avari. “Do not call me that,” he ground out between clenched teeth, trying to use his anger to ignore the pain that lanced through him. That was the name his father had called him when he was an elfling and more recently in Rivendell, and he didn’t want it sullied by coming from this evil elf’s mouth.

Mordraug laughed harder. He didn’t know why being called ‘little one’ irritated the young elf so much, but it amused him to know that it did. Perhaps, it held bad memories for the prince. It didn‘t really matter, as anger again flared in the dark elf. “I will call you whatever I wish, whenever I wish it. You will learn that before you die.” Mordraug raised his hand and started to take a step forward, intending to hit Legolas for his perceived insubordination.

“Leave...him...alone!” came a fiercely demanding voice from across the clearing.

Mordraug never took that first step, as he stared into the furious face of Thranduil, whose blue-gray eyes were now as dark and menacing as a thunderstorm. If it had been physically possible, the intensity of his glare would have ignited Mordraug where he stood.

The black eyes of Mordraug reflected his unbridled shock at the fair elf’s sudden appearance. Then, he quickly and effectively hooded his emotions. “I have been waiting for you, Thranduil,” Mordraug replied icily. He looked around to see who else had accompanied the woodland king.

Standing in a semicircle behind Mordraug were the Rivendell elves, Elrond being more to the side. Estel stood transfixed behind and slightly to the left side of Thranduil.

Elrond stood silently and gave Mordraug his own considerable glare. He had not drawn a weapon. However, Glorfindel and Elrond’s twin sons had their arrows pointed straight at the dark elf‘s head. They dared not fire, though, because they did not know whether or not this accursed excuse for an elf had the knowledge to cure Legolas of the venom’s poison. They could not risk killing what might prove to be their friend’s only chance of survival. That fact, however, did not cause them to lower their bows a single inch.

Ignoring the standoff that electrified the air around him as affectively as any nearby lightning strike could have done, Aragorn had now run up to Legolas and knelt in front of him. He locked eyes with his elven friend. The pain the ranger saw there caused his chest to constrict. He reached out to put his hands on the elf‘s shoulders, when Mordraug yelled, “Do not touch him, or I will kill him right now!” Aragorn jerked his hands back. He would have defied Mordraug in an instant, if the threat had been against him. But, he was not willing to risk further pain to his friend. His eyes reflected the regret he felt at not being able to offer Legolas any comfort.

Legolas nodded slightly in understanding. There was also a silent plea to Estel that he should not risk turning Mordraug’s wrath on himself.

Though it didn’t seem possible, the fury in Thranduil’s eyes intensified even more. “You will deal with me now that I am here. Leave my son out of this.” He began to advance on the dark elf. He stopped only when the snake raised its head again and hissed menacingly. As much as the elf king wanted to put his bare hands around Mordraug’s neck and squeeze until the life was gone out of him, he was no fool. He could not risk being bitten. It would do no one, including Legolas, any good.

With a smirk at Thranduil‘s forced restraint, Mordraug nodded in Legolas‘s direction. “As long as I have your son in my power, you dare not attempt any hostile moves against me.” He looked around him. “That goes for the rest of you, which I am sure you know quite well. You would have shot me by now, if you believed otherwise.”

The arrogance the dark elf showed was almost more than the other elves could bear. “Just so that you understand I mean what I say...” There was no need to finish the sentence, because just as those words left Mordraug’s mouth, Legolas arched his back and screamed.

The sound of Legolas’s torment tore at Thranduil’s heart, as it did them all, but he could not afford to turn his back or even his head from Mordraug or the snake. He also knew that no matter what he had told Elrond about the strength he possessed to protect Mirkwood, he dare not look at his son, or his resolve might well crumble.

Aragorn hadn’t been able to hold back a groan of frustration at not being able to help his friend. He sat on his knees and clenched both hands into fists. His face betrayed his emotional pain at his helplessness.

Elrond finally motioned for Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel to lower their bows. The look he gave Mordraug was almost as fierce as that of Thranduil, but he knew that if Legolas was to be spared further pain, his sons and his friend would need to refrain from showing any kind of threat for the time being, at least. Keeping their aim on him might push Mordraug to follow through on his threat to kill Legolas right then. It galled him to feel as helpless as Estel felt.

Mordraug’s laughter rang out, as he looked past Thranduil at Legolas. “Poor little one, he came here to protect a father who does not even care enough to look at him in his time of need. Is that how you acted when your wife was suffering? Did you turn your back on her, as well, Thranduil?”

The elf king had to work so hard to control himself from leaping at Mordraug that his whole body shook. Still, his eyes never left the black eyes of the Avari. He watched, as the snake’s eyes flashed red and a scream once again escaped Legolas’s lips. This time, unlike in Rivendell, the fire in his body drove him to the ground where he lay moaning, as his body jerked and writhed in agony.

This time instead of the steady sensation of fire burning his flesh, the pain now came in waves, each one seemingly more painful than the last. Legolas continued to writhe and moan. The sights and sounds of the world around him faded to nothingness, punctuated by flashes of intense white lightning that corresponded with each wave of agony. His entire world now was reduced to the burning agony consuming him.

Mordraug looked past Thranduil to watch the prince’s losing battle with a pain far beyond any he had previously known. The dark elf smiled at the results of his ‘handiwork‘. Not only was Legolas suffering but so was his father. That alone was a great source of joy for the Avari.

Mordraug’s joy was also a source of distraction for him.

Thranduil took that opportunity to draw his dagger. He would have driven it into the dark elf’s throat, if not for the fact that the snake was now watching him, and he knew full well that he couldn‘t kill Mordraug and get his hand out of the way of a strike from the snake. So deciding, Thranduil, in a lightning fast move, put the sharp blade of his knife against the top of the snake’s neck about three inches below its head. The serpent hissed angrily, but the elven king held his knife firm.

Instantly, Mordraug looked down and saw with horror that he no longer held the advantage. He realized, much too late, of course, that his feeling of triumph at what he had done to Legolas had distracted him. He had never believed what Legolas had told him about his father putting Mirkwood ahead of his family. That failure to believe was now costing him. Rage crossed Mordraug’s face as he looked up at Thranduil.

“Do not try to drop your arm and move this serpent out of the way of my blade,” Thranduil threatened icily. “You would not like the outcome for it---or for you.”

Mordraug knew that this was no idle threat. Even if he had not dealt with Thranduil at all in the past to know the seriousness of the threat, seeing the wood elf’s demeanor now would be convincing enough. A myriad of confusing thoughts swirled through Mordraug’s mind, as he frantically began to calculate his options.

Chapter Twenty Six

Mordraug stood and stared at Thranduil, who was calmly holding his sharp elven dagger against the snake’s neck. No, Mordraug amended, the elven king was not calm. He shook with rage and a tremendous desire for revenge, but unfortunately, his blade remained steady.

The armed elves behind him would be held at bay as long as they believed Mordraug might kill Legolas, so he was not overly worried about them, at the moment.

He sneered as he considered Elrond, the great half-elven healer and son of the morning and evening star, Eärendil. His attention had remained with Legolas, not once attempting to draw his sword. Consequently, he was all but dismissed from Mordraug’s mind.

None of them seemed to know that this attack would be different from the previous ones that had afflicted the young wood elf. This time there would be no stopping the attack. It would progress just as the others had done all those centuries before. The young prince was about to die horribly, and even the dark elf himself could not stop it. Considering the hopeless way Elrond was now looking down at Legolas, it appeared now that the Lord of Rivendell was all too aware of that fact.

“Release my son from the attack,” Thranduil demanded in a cold fury. “Now!”

With a smile that he could not keep from displaying, Mordraug said, “I cannot.”

Thranduil did not believe him. “You control the serpent. Tell it to end the attack.”

“I am so sorry.” The dark elf uttered the words in so sarcastic a tone that it was clear he was anything but sorry. In fact, he was intending to thoroughly enjoy imparting his knowledge of doom to the elven king. “My pet has unleashed the final stage of the venom. It cannot be stopped by anyone.”

At that moment, Legolas began gasping for breath. The fire had left his body and as before, near freezing blood began to flow through his veins, sending the frigid liquid seeping into every fiber of his body. His lips began turning blue, as his lungs slowly advanced toward immobility, forcing him to gasp in order to get any air at all. “Helkh,”

<Bitter cold)> the elf rasped barely above a whisper, not having the necessary air to speak louder.

Legolas began to shake violently, his body trying vainly to keep the core of itself warm. Then to the horror of his friends, his body began to contort. His limbs were twisting. The muscles were being stretched and pulled. The archer’s arms crossed each other on his chest and his hands became distorted claws. The sound of breaking bone could be heard, when first one wrist snapped and then the other, as his hands twisted around each other. Legolas’s legs were also contorting at unnatural angles as they bent back upon themselves. His neck arched from the abnormal warping of the controlling muscles, throwing his head painfully backward. Legolas’s screams rent the air. It was an unbelievable sight.

Aragorn looked up at Elrond with eyes reflecting a sorrowful pleading the depth of which his father had never seen there before. “Please, do something, Ada.”

Elrond’s memories drifted back almost two millennia, as his mind’s eye transposed the faces and twisted bodies of those who suffered the cruel attacks he had seen back then onto the body he saw on the ground in front of him. He slowly shook his head. “I can do no more now than I did then,” he said with a heart full of anguish and an uncharacteristic tone of defeat. He clenched his fists in frustration much as Estel had done a few moments before. The healer in him raged at his inability to aid the young elf.

Mordraug’s eyes moved from the young blond elf on the ground to the older blond elf in front of him. The anguish and fury on Thranduil’s face was terrible to behold.

Th King had reached the end of his self-control. Through clenched teeth, he said, “If what is happening to my son does not end immediately, I will kill this black spawn of a demon.” He glared straight into the dark elf’s black eyes. He still did not believe that Mordraug could not end the attack on his son. It was inconceivable to him that the dark elf would ever have admitted that he had lost control over Legolas‘s fate, partly because of his immense ego and partly because that would mean he could no longer hold Legolas hostage. “I mean what I say,” Thranduil finished threateningly.

Mordraug knew the woodland king did not believe he no longer controlled the situation. It occurred to him suddenly that that was a good thing, because he had just made a grave tactical blunder. As long as Thranduil believed he could stop the attack on Legolas, he could keep the woodland elf from fulfilling his desire to kill him and his pet. What he didn’t realize yet was that the elder wood elf had decided that the standoff was going to end right then.

When Mordraug finally did realize that Thranduil’s patience, never lengthy at the best of times, had run out completely, he quickly made up his mind that he would sacrifice the snake to spare himself. What else could he do? While Thranduil was engaged in killing the snake, the dark elf would have a few seconds of inattention from everyone around him. They would be watching with gleeful pleasure as Thranduil killed the snake. Mordraug would then make his getaway. He knew this forest better than anyone, so he believed that even a wood elf such as Thranduil could not find him, when he wished not to be found. Arrogantly Mordraug said, “Go ahead. Kill it. In time, I will find another such as he to aid me.”

So dismissive had his attitude become, that the dark elf didn't even spare a glance at the serpent. If he had, he would have seen the dangerous look residing in the small yellow eyes. This was no mindless reptile capable only of being directed by another. It was a sentient being. Though its awareness was on a primitive level, it understood exactly what Mordraug was doing. Mordraug’s intentions infuriated the creature.

The serpent slowly turned its head from Thranduil and swung it back to look at Mordraug. It hissed menacingly, flicking its tongue in and out. The dark elf, whose attention was fully on Thranduil, so he would be able to react as soon as the king did, still refused to glance at the snake. He acted as if the black creature now meant no more to him than dirt under his boots.

In the lightning fast move common to all venomous snakes, it sank its fangs into the back of Mordraug’s left hand. The dark elf let out his own scream of pain and shock and quickly put his right hand over the wound in a reflexive move of protection. The snake promptly bit the back of that hand, too, this time hitting a vein and injecting venom directly into the Avari’s blood stream.

So startled was Thranduil, that the took a step back, releasing the pressure of his blade on the snake, who quickly uncurled is body from around Mordraug’s arm and slipped to the ground. It could have gone after any of the elves or the human that surrounded it. However, at that moment, it was not interested in revenge. It wanted freedom.

As soon as they had recovered, the twins raised their still-loaded bows and fired at the fleeing snake, who was slithering rapidly through the grass. It was just a little too fast, and the arrows landed short, both slamming into the earth barely two inches from the tapered tip of the black tail. The snake was soon lost to sight.

They started after it, but Glorfindel called them back. “Stay here in case you are needed. I will find that creature.” It was a vow he intended on keeping. In seconds, the elder elf had disappeared into the trees, bow in hand.

After being bitten, Mordraug looked down at the back of both of his hands, staring in stunned horror at the twin puncture marks that decorated each one. His mind reeled. He had been bitten by his own pet, the creature he had freed from the amber stone, the creature he had given a home to. This could not be happening. He was supposed to destroy Thranduil and Elrond. How could they be unscathed while he was now being infused with the deadly venom? He had never even thought to enquire of the creature, if he would be as susceptible to the poison as all the other elves. He never dreamed that information would be needed. *There is no antidote!* his horrified mind wailed.

Thranduil came close to using his dagger to slit the dark elf’s throat while he stood transfixed by what had just happened. It would have given the Mirkwood king a great deal of satisfaction to end the dark elf’s life. But, just before he could accomplish the feat, he pulled his hand back. Why end his miserable life so easily? His evil heart was now pumping poisoned blood through his body. Let him die the same way he had condemned his son to die.

A wrenching scream from Legolas caught the king’s attention. He pointed to the twins. “Make sure this filth...”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mordraug turned around and began running. His mind had finally shattered completely, throwing it into total chaos. All rational thought ceased, as he ran blindly into the forest, screaming.

Thranduil knew that Mordraug would be dead soon, suffering the way he was making Legolas suffer. Had he possessed the ability, Thranduil would have greatly prolonged that suffering. The main thing now was that he would no longer be a threat. “Forget it,” the king told the twins. “He will get the end he deserves.” With that he turned and hurried toward his son.

The King of Mirkwood knew exactly what he would see. The accuracy of that knowledge tore at his heart. Legolas was deathly pale, a tinge of blue infusing his skin. He was barely able to get air into his freezing lungs. Thranduil knelt down and reached for him.

Elrond started to hold his arms out to block Thranduil from touching Legolas. His first thought was that holding the twisting muscles and tortured bones would cause more harm to the young elf. It was the healer in Elrond, who held that belief. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. For Thranduil to hold his son would do more good for them both emotionally than it would cause any further physical distress to Legolas.

Thranduil picked Legolas up and held him close. He could feel the chill of death in the slender body. He wrapped his arms around Legolas, giving him his love and whatever bit of warmth his own body could provide. He felt the movement of the contorting muscles that lay against him.

There was a loud crack, as Legolas’s left ankle broke, and then his body suddenly stopped its abnormal twisting.

It was not clear to Elrond why the contortions had ceased. In all the previous attacks, only death had ended them. Though the young elf’s breath had now retreated to the barest minimum for keeping his body alive, he was still alive.

Elrond noticed that the contortions were not as pronounced in Legolas as they had been in the elves of long ago. There was no way to know why that had happened, but it was a relief, though much physical damage had already been done.

Thranduil hugged Legolas to his chest, the young elf‘s golden hair spilling down over the king’s arm. He closed his eyes and put his chin down against the side of his son’s head.

The body he held was gradually beginning to still. But, Thranduil’s mind tried hard to push that thought away. If he gave it no credence, it may not come to pass.

Aragorn, still on his knees, reached out and put a trembling hand on Legolas’s shoulder. He sighed as he, too, felt the chill that greeted his fingers. He had believed so strongly that his friend not only could be but would be saved. It was inconceivable to the man that he could not. That was a realization that was like glass shards ripping into his heart.

Legolas was dying. To the ranger, those three words should not be allowed to exist, in Sindarin, in Westron, in any language known in Middle-earth. He sat unmoving. His head was bowed, eyes closed in grief, but he did not move his hand. He would not lose physical contact with his best friend until death parted them.

The twins had moved up close. They knelt between Thranduil and Estel. Their eyes, which mirrored each other’s in so many of their shared emotions, stared sadly at their friend. They were each as unbelieving as Estel. Even having heard their father and Glorfindel tell them about the horror of what the venom could do to an elf’s body, they still could not believe what they were seeing. They couldn’t begin to imagine the pain it must have caused, even though the memory of the agonized cries of the archer still rang in their ears.

Unnoticed by anyone except Elrond, Glorfindel returned to the clearing. In his left hand he carried his bow. In his right hand he carried an arrow. Impaled on that arrow was the black snake. It hung limply, its body swinging loosely, as a result of the blond elf’s movements.

The scene he came upon was as dreadful as his thoughts told him it would be while on his way back. He dropped bow, arrow and snake and went to kneel beside Elrond. He knew he wouldn’t be able to give any real comfort to anyone, at this point, but he would be there should any turn to him for aid, verbal or physical.

The solemn silence was suddenly broken by distant screams, filtering through the trees. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Mordraug was now enduring the hideous death that he had inflicted on many of the Firstborn, including Legolas, his last victim. The small group that heard the dark elf’s death throes were too disheartened about Legolas to find any joy in Mordraug’s death. Thranduil didn’t appear to register the sounds at all. Everyone else’s sole attention was also on the young woodland elf, who lay wrapped lovingly in his father‘s embrace.

Legolas had stopped his convulsive shaking, no longer having the strength to try and keep warm. The frozen fingers of ice were winning the battle for the elf’s life.

Thranduil had not opened his eyes, spoken or made any other outward sign. He simply held Legolas close, desperately trying to cling to the belief that each of his son’s dwindling breaths and slowed heartbeats meant his child was still with him.

***

Just as in Rivendell, a small part of Legolas’s mind was still able to function. However, unlike in Rivendell, this time his mind was completely detached from his body, not able to feel or register the pain. Only the cold seemed to leap the distance between mind and body.

Legolas knew his body was shutting down. There was no way it could survive much longer in the gripping cold that had engulfed it, invading every inch of him, inside and out. One vital organ after another was succumbing to the icy invasion. This last vestige of his mind would go soon and lastly his heart would cease. Or, perhaps he would be aware of its last beat, its last attempt to remain viable. He knew not, nor, he realized, did it really matter. It would all end soon enough, and he would then begin a journey toward his eternal destiny.

The searing heat had been awful enough with its sensation of flames and burning flesh. He had writhed then, rolling from side to side and moaning to try and combat it. But, somehow this helkh was worse. The cold drove him inward, forcing him to curl around himself, seeking what warmth he could. Even his twisting muscles had pulled his body into a ball.

He then became aware of voices nearby but couldn’t make out what was being said. He concentrated the best he could and soon recognized that one voice belonged to his father. The other must belong to Mordraug. Fear entered his heart. *Please, Ada, do not let him ensnare you. Not for my sake. I am already lost.*

The next thing he became aware of were arms, strong and soothing, as they enveloped his crumpled body in a cocoon of warmth. The faint smell of his father came to him. Legolas inwardly smiled. He would die in his father’s arms. The thought comforted him. He hoped it would offer comfort to his father, as well.

The elf also felt a firm pressure on his shoulder and knew it was Estel, his brother in spirit. He knew from the feel of the ranger’s hand that he was attempting to give the elf strength and let him know he was there.

Legolas had been right. Estel held no grudge at what the elf had done to him before he left Rivendell. He would miss his human friend.

Despite his current condition, Legolas sighed in contentment. He would pass beyond this firmament in the company of those who loved him and whom he loved in return.

Legolas felt the tickle of guilt for wanting them there as witnesses to his death, because he knew it would be hard on them. But, he did not know if he could have faced it with any dignity, if he had been alone. He almost laughed. Having his body twisted and tortured into a shape he could not begin to imagine was hardly dignified. He pushed that useless thought away, instead thinking only that his head, though forced backward by unyielding muscles, now rested against his father’s shoulder.

Unable to move or make a sound, Legolas’s now drifting mind managed two thoughts. *Be well, Estel.* *I love you, Ada.*

***

The king spoke. “Please, Little One, you must come back to me. I cannot imagine my life without you in it.” He shuddered to think that he would spend the rest of his immortal life never again to see or be with his youngest child. It was then that the unshed tears of both a last desperate hope and a crushing hopelessness slipped down Thranduil’s cheeks.

Legolas’s body jerked once and then went still.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Legolas’s spirit was soaring. He smiled broadly, feeling like an eagle must feel when winging its way through the endless sky. In truth, he was flying like an eagle. The clouds slipped past him, and then he broke free of their cottony essence. The sky was a darker, richer blue than he had ever seen from the ground. The sun shone down on his upturned face, warming his skin. The warmth felt glorious after the freezing cold that had claimed his life.

He tried hard not to think of the last sight he had seen, after his spirit had first left his body. The group around him were solemn and grief-stricken, his father and Estel in tears. He wanted so much to tell them that all would be well. That he would be well, and they would recover from the loss they were experiencing. But, of course, he wasn’t able to communicate with them so he could ease their sorrow. And, his spirit could not linger, no matter how much he desired it.

He had glimpsed his tortured body, as he sped upwards away from the scene in the forest clearing. He regretted that such a cruel form would be left behind to be mourned. It would have to be shrouded completely while lying in state, as his people offered their final respects to their fallen prince and his family to their lost kin. He cared not for himself how he looked. He cared only how his family would react to what they would see. Legolas sighed. There was no use dwelling on such things, since they could not be changed. What had happened had happened. That life and that death he had to leave behind, as he was leaving Middle-earth behind.

Now that Legolas was looking forward to the future, it surprised him that he had the same sensations that a real body had, able to feel the cool, crisp air, as it rushed past him, and the sunshine on his face. He glanced down and saw the shape of his body as it had been before Mordraug. It was vaguely transparent, not at all solid, but it was definitely recognizable. His thought processes were unfettered, and his emotions as real as ever they were in life.

He turned his head slightly and stared fully into the golden sun, as he made his way through the pristine air. He smiled when he realized that it did not hurt his eyes to look directly into the blazing orb above him. He was beginning to realize that there would be no more pain in his future. Yes, all would be well with him.

Legolas was so enthralled with the flight of his spirit that he lost all track of the time that was passing during this journey. Had it been hours or mere seconds? Time seemed not to matter in this after-life existence. In truth, he had never worried much about time. He had been born into a race of immortals. Eternity had always stretched out before him into infinity. The fact that his immortal life could be taken had always been a possibility, especially since he was a warrior, but he had never contemplated that fact in any great depth. The elf had always taken precautions, however, they had been more because of those that he was protecting rather than for himself. He certainly never worried about his own death. Now, here he was making his way to the Halls of Mandos.

Another smile spread across his face. He was now thinking that this journey would end in a great adventure, and he was looking forward to experiencing it.

Though he had left most of his family and friends behind, before long he would see his beautiful Naneth. Her loving arms would soon enfold him the way they had when he was an elfling. Perhaps, that was the reason he had perished, so that he could be the one child of hers, who would spend the remaining length of Ilúvatar’s Song with her. That thought brought joy to his heart. *Naneth, I am coming,* he sighed happily.

~*~*~

Thranduil knew the instant his son’s spirit left his body. It felt as if someone had reached a cruel fist into his own chest and wrenched his heart from his body. The weight of such a loss almost crushed him. He held Legolas as tightly as his arms would allow. The tears continued unabated.

Estel did not have the same connection with Legolas that his father had, but all the same, he knew the moment that death claimed his friend. He didn’t even try to hold back the tears that freely fell from his eyes. Death had now parted the two friends, but still Estel could not take his hand from Legolas’s shoulder. Instead, he squeezed it harder. Everything around him, and every thought in his mind was swept away. All that existed for him was that Legolas was dead. Those three words were so much worse than the three he had thought earlier. But, this wasn’t just words. This was reality.

The Rivendell twins were mired in their own grief. They had known Legolas since he was a small elfling and had always thought of him like a little brother. It had gladdened their hearts after Estel had come to live with them, and they had watched as gradually the two, elf and human, had bonded. Now, their grief not only weighed heavily upon their own hearts but also extended to Estel.

Elrond felt as if he had lost an adopted son. Beside his grief lay the burden of failure. He absently twisted Vilya, as the Ring of Air rested upon his finger. He had used his healing abilities to help countless others of all races through the long years. Why could he not have helped this young elf, who meant so much to him?

His thoughts drifted back to Celebrian, his beloved wife. She had sailed West after the tortures she had suffered at the hands of orcs, but he had been able to save her to make that journey possible. He held dear the surety that he would be with her one day. His heart reached out to Thranduil, who would now have neither his wife nor his youngest child with him in Valinor. Elrond could barely imagine such heartache.

Glorfindel’s face reflected his sorrow. He then thought of the snake and was glad that he had been the one to kill it. If only doing so could have saved Legolas’s life. He hoped that, in time, the fact that the serpent had been slain would help ease the devastated hearts around him. His own heart ached, but he forced himself to think of the others. He wanted to be able to help them during the hard days that stretched out before them.

Arda continued to turn. No death, no matter how deeply mourned, could stop time from moving forward. So finally, after many moments of quiet sorrow in the clearing, Glorfindel roused himself and said softly, “We should prepare to leave.”

No one else stirred.

Thranduil, his face still laying against Legolas’s hair, murmured something. No one could understand what he said until a strangled cry escaped his throat, and the words “Little One” tore through the air and settled like a pall around them all. He did not want to physically let go of his child. Deep inside his shattered heart, he knew he must, yet he could not make himself do so. Not yet.

~*~*~

Something was happening. At first, Legolas could not figure out what it was. All seemed as it had been, yet something different was occurring. At first, he thought it had to do with the flight of his spirit. This was all new to him, of course. Perhaps, there was some sort of shift in perception that had to take place before he reached the Halls of Mandos. He took note of the fact that he was now headed away from the sun toward the West. That was expected, so he did not believe that was what was disturbing him.

Then, Legolas suddenly realized what was different. A sound was floating on the air, faint and far away, but there. He was sure of it. The elf turned his head so that his left ear was aimed downward to try and discern what that sound could be. He wondered if maybe it was something he needed to know before he could continue the journey.

He heard the sound again. It was a voice. He turned his head this way and that but still was not able to understand the words that were being spoken nor who it was who uttered them.

Then, on the very periphery of his keen elven hearing, he heard what the voice was saying. “Little One.” He heard it clearly now. His father’s pet name for him. The mournful sound of those two words spoken, he now knew, by his broken-hearted father, tore at his own heart. How could his spirit, now on its way to the Halls of Mandos, still feel such sorrow at words that he should not even have been able to hear? It made no sense to him, and he frowned in bewilderment.

Again the words swirled around the elf like a soft echo. “Little One.” “Little One.” “Little One.” Each time they were repeated, they seemed to become more somber, more hopeless. There were desperate tears in those words and a grief beyond measure.

Suddenly, Legolas realized he was no longer soaring. He was no longer moving at all. His heart lurched. He was hanging suspended in the air. It was a most disconcerting feeling.

With a wisdom that he could not identify, Legolas knew that he was being given a choice: To continue his journey to the Halls of Mandos or to return to the only world he had ever known. That same wisdom told him that he had to make up his mind quickly, or the choice would be made for him, and he would continue onward.

He tried to think of what would occur with each choice. If he continued, he would enter an existence of peace and happiness with his Naneth. If he went back... What? Would he be condemned to spend the rest of his immortal life in a twisted body that could never accomplish anything but to cause him endless pain? Would that not burden his family and bring more enduring emotional pain than his death would do? Would he return to the life he had before being bitten by the snake? Unfortunately, he had no idea what the answers to any of those questions were. And, there was no time left to speculate.

Again, he heard the words “Little One” spoken in a tone of pleading and heartache. His choice was made. “Goodbye, Naneth,” he whispered, believing that if she was aware of this journey he had undertaken, she would understand his decision.

With no warning, he found himself not just falling but plummeting backwards. The clouds soon surrounded him and then flew upward away from him. Instantly, he found himself heading face first toward the earth. An odd thought came to him: Is this the way a falcon feels when it lays his wings along its body and dives at an incredible speed straight down toward its unsuspecting prey? It was both exhilarating and frightening. He stared mesmerized as the earth below moved up to meet him with terrifying speed.

He saw the forest spread before him in various shades of green. Then, the clearing came sharply into view. He didn’t even have time to think about the people that were gathered there before his spirit crashed into his deformed body.

Bitter cold swallowed him, and all awareness fled.

Chapter Twenty Eight

The jolt that went through Legolas’s body, as his spirit slammed back into it, startled everyone, to say the least. They all stared at the young elf. Was this a final death throe, one last convulsion before death made its final claim on the prince’s earthly remains? Or, could it be the unimaginable, life renewing itself in the elven body?

No one knew for sure what the answers to those questions were. Each one literally held their breath, waiting to see if there would be another such movement. For what seemed like an eternity, there was none. Hope was on the fringes of being abandoned.

Elrohir, still stunned and staring, found his voice first. “I know we did not imagine that.”

Elladan shook his head. “No, we did not,” he confirmed. He couldn’t see Legolas’s face from his vantage point, but what he could see told him there had been no change in the wood elf’s features. He looked to his father, but the Lord of Rivendell’s face was an unreadable mask.

Thranduil’s heart skipped a beat and then began pounding so hard it filled his ears with the sound of it. He wanted so badly to believe that life was truly stirring within his son, yet he was afraid to, afraid that if he did, and he was wrong, his heart would be shattered beyond all hope of repair. When Legolas gave a great gasp, followed by another, as his oxygen-starved body tried to force air into his lungs, Thranduil knew the truth of his hope. He raised his head slightly, so he could see his son’s face. He looked at it in wonder. “He lives,” the king said, his voice almost breaking. “My Little One has returned to me.” He then began to stoke Legolas‘s cheek, his forehead, his hair. Right then, no one else existed.

If anything, more tears began to follow each other down Aragorn’s face. His hand opened and closed continually, squeezing Legolas’s shoulder in sheer overwhelming elation. He offered a silent thank you to Eru for bringing his friend back. How and even why it had happened could be explored later. At this point, he was too overcome to try and figure anything out. Legolas was alive! Those were the three words that meant more to him than his own life. They brought boundless joy back into his grief-stricken heart.

The twins were simply grinning ear to ear, unable to say another word. It had taken a miracle to accomplish that feat.

Glorfindel knew more than anyone what coming back to life felt like, though the circumstances of his return to the land of the living had been quite different. A smile played about his lips. Could this kind of incredible event really be happening again? He happily answered his own question, as his smile broadened.

After the first convulsive movement, Elrond had been about to make the comment that none of them should get their hopes up. He knew how devastating it would be for everyone to think Legolas was reviving only to find out that he was not. Thranduil, he knew, would never fully recover from such a cruel blow. But, when Legolas gasped and then began to breathe, Elrond’s doubts were swept away. His own eyes confirmed the miracle. The essence of the young elf was indeed back among them.

Elrond had to temper his own joy with caution. He reached across Legolas and put his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “Thranduil, Legolas may be alive, which is a wondrous and joyful miracle, but that does not necessarily mean all is well.” The elf lord hated to utter those words. Yet, he knew they needed to be heard.

Thranduil looked up and stared evenly into Elrond’s eyes. At first, there was a puzzled look on his fair face. His youngest child was alive, back with those that loved him, back to resume his life. Why was Elrond casting such doubts about Legolas’s future? Then, it suddenly dawned on the elf king what Elrond meant. He looked down at Legolas again, taking in his cold twisted body.

Elrond continued softly. “Legolas’s spirit has returned, but you see the cruelty his body is still enduring. There is no guarantee that the poison that took his life just moments ago, will not force this condition to remain as you see it.” When Thranduil opened his mouth, and it looked like he was going to protest, Elrond held his hand up. “I think I know what it is you wish to say, Thranduil. I, too, have hope that all will be well, yet we must all be aware that whatever recovery Legolas attains will be won only after a long, hard road.” He was making it clear that there may not be a full recovery.

Aragorn, like Thranduil, wanted desperately to believe that a full recovery was the only outcome that could possibly take place. He decided not to voice his thoughts, not wanting to hear his father’s arguments on the matter. He knew Elrond was just being the practical healer he was. Instead, he asked, “Ada, what can we do to change what the venom has done to him?” His voice was husky from the intense range of emotions he had just experienced.

The Lord of Rivendell did not want to admit that he was not sure what, if anything, could be done for Legolas, at this point. He was not worried about appearing fallible. He had already demonstrated that shortcoming all too well. He was determined that from now on, any negative thoughts he may have would be kept to himself. Those around him had suffered enough. Also, not knowing for sure if Legolas could hear what was being said, he decided that only positive thoughts should reach the young elf‘s mind. Total honesty could be sidestepped for the time being.

It was Aragorn that first saw a change in Legolas. Anyone taking in the elf’s total appearance would probably not have noticed it. The ranger had been staring at the elf’s hands, more as just a place to look, while his emotions swirled, rather than as an actual observation. The elf’s hands were still painfully twisted around each other, yet the man was suddenly sure that Legolas’s fingers were not quite as clawed as they had been before. Was it just wishful thinking, or had there been some kind of movement? He saw it then. The fingers were definitely moving. It was very subtle, but it was real. “Ada, Legolas’s fingers are straightening out.”

Elrond’s first thought was that Estel was just seeing what he wanted to see. However, he was not going to dismiss his son’s words out of hand. The elf lord frowned in concentration, as he, too, stared at the archer’s fingers. “You are right, Estel. Legolas’s muscles appear to be trying to move back into their original positions.” Since this was the first time anyone had not only survived the venom but was trying to reverse its effects, Elrond found himself in totally unknown territory.

Six pairs of eyes were now staring intently at Legolas’s fingers.

“Elrohir,” Elrond said. “Go get two blankets. No,” he corrected looking at Legolas, who had now begun to shiver. “Get three of them.”

Elrohir jumped up and ran toward where they had left their horses grazing on the sparse grass that existed on the dark forest floor. He reached into the travel pack on his horse and pulled out his blanket. He then turned to Elladan’s horse and retrieved his brother’s blanket. He started to get the one belonging to Estel but hesitated, knowing that the human, who was more susceptible to a chill, may be in need of it later on. He then chose the blanket belonging to Glorfindel, sure the elder elf would not mind. It had taken Elrohir only a moment to complete the task. With all three blankets in hand, he ran back to the clearing.

He handed one blanket to Elrond, who spread it out between himself and the two wood elves. “Thranduil,” Elrond said, “we must put Legolas down on the blanket.”

The elven king was reluctant to let go of his son, but he trusted Elrond in this. Knowing what he did about Mordraug, he held no grudge against the healer for not being able to stop what had happened. All he cared about now was getting his son back the way he had been. That was an idea that Thranduil would not let go of. He refused to believe that there may be permanent damage done to his son in body or spirit. Legolas would recover to full health. His father’s heart would accept nothing less for his child.

Because of Legolas’s physical condition, especially the way his head had been forced backward, it was impossible to lay him on his back. “We must put him on his side,” Elrond informed Thranduil.

The two elves gently rolled Legolas onto his right side, facing Elrond and Estel. The elf lord then covered the archer with the two remaining blankets that he took from Elrohir’s hands. “Do not touch him,” Elrond instructed, his voice tinged with a note of sternness that was aimed at both Thranduil and Estel. “Even the slightest touch could cause him both harm and more pain.” He had decided to err on the side of caution.

The bitter cold that had gripped Legolas’s body was slowly being replaced with a warmth that was spreading throughout his body. It took several moments before the young elf stopped shivering. However, movement did not stop. There was a continual jerking and twitching that was relatively mild yet easy to observe through the two blankets.

Estel asked his father, “How long will it take?”

“It will take much longer for the muscles to reposition themselves than it did to get into this position to begin with. We must wait several hours, I would assume.” He didn’t really know, because, as he had noted earlier, no one had ever recovered from the venom’s poison before. The elf lord was still amazed at that stunning occurrence.

Legolas began to moan and occasionally cry out. No one doubted the pain that wracked the elven body, as the muscles twisted back the other way.

The one thing that Elrond feared more than anything was that both of Legolas’s wrists, his left ankle and possibly some of his ribs, that had been broken by being wrenched one way, could now result in more severe damage while twisting back to where they belonged. How ironic that the very act of recovery may bring about more harm.

Aragorn, who had been on his knees this whole time, sat down cross-legged, determined not to move until Legolas woke up. He still held the belief that once the elf’s body had returned to its natural form, he would awaken and have no more wrong with him than a few broken bones, which Elrond, aided by Legolas’s elven healing ability, would quickly and easily take care of. Legolas had already faced up to his fears of Mordraug and the snake after the dream that had revealed the horror of what had been done to him, so the ranger did not believe the elf would have lingering fears about that. Besides, Mordraug was now dead and could never hurt anyone again.

Aragorn si