Disclaimer: The characters, plot, and places of Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. No profit was made from this story, and no infringement was intended. This work was produced solely for entertainment.

Authors Note: This is my very first attempt at FanFiction and was essentially done for to alleviate the boredom that I sometimes experience in the evenings. I am in no way a Tolkien or LOTR expert and will never claim to be. This story takes place post-Return of the King. Constructive criticism is most welcome.

Prologue

Tranquility flowed through the forest, its peacefulness relaxing the young elf maiden. She wove her way gracefully between the trees, stopping occasionally to listen to the sounds of nature surrounding her.

Raising her face to the sky and closing her eyes she sucked in a large, cleansing breath, holding in the air and savoring the cool, fresh air as it tingled in her lungs. Her green eyes reopened and she soaked up the sunbeams that had snuck between large branches that loomed overhead.

The elves of Ithilien had been working day and night to turn this now grand forest into the beauty that it was today and she was proud that she had been able to be a part of such great work.

She slipped her shoes off so that she could better feel the earth beneath her, the grass feeling cool to her feet and tickling her toes. The darkened edges of her pale blue dress brushed lightly over the green blades, the dirt did not seem to bother her today. Had she been wearing a festival gown she would have fussed endlessly over the gentle pigmentation which now stained the cloth. But she was wearing a work dress and was concerned little about her appearance.

Stopping momentarily she tilted her head ever so slightly and listened closely to what the forest was telling her. Birds sang in the branches and a slight breeze worked its way between the leaves creating a soft rustling noise which reminded her of the brook that flowed behind her home as an elfling. The air pushed through her auburn locks tossing her hair about and she grasped the unruly strands and tied them loosely at the base of her neck.

She had come to Ithilien with her father, her mother having already sailed to Valinor, and he had gone to join her soon after arriving. She, however, couldn’t bring herself to leave, not yet, and it had been a source of strife between her and her father.

They had argued endlessly in the weeks before he left, he begged her to take the ship with him, his worry for her always great. She had finally been able to pacify him with the promise that she wouldn’t linger much longer and would see him soon. She would depart Middle Earth after she had learned all she could and felt the time was right.

But that wasn’t the only thing keeping her in Ithilien. She had developed a deep respect and admiration for the other elves of this small colony. They all shared so much in common. None had grown weary of this land, each still believing that they had something more to contribute to its beauty and growth.

Elves had come from all over when they had heard of the great work being done and they had been drawn to the idea of being close to those few still remaining in Middle Earth. She had met elves from Imladris and Mirkwood and even some smaller settlements, all presenting different traits but similar dreams.

“Ah!”

The sweet sound of her voice escaped her as she finally found what she had been searching for. Kneeling on the forest floor, she rolled the sleeves of her dress up and began gathering the herbs, placing them gently in the basket she had brought with her. She tenderly worked her slender fingers through the velvet textured leaves looking for just the right herbs, the ones ready for use.

She quietly began humming to herself, an old song that she hadn’t thought about in ages, and she smiled at the memories the tune created. Trouble always seemed to follow her as an elfling, though she would probably hold her best friend responsible if she were one to lay blame. I think father thought I should have been born a son for all the mischief I caused.

If she hadn’t been so connected with the nature surrounding her, she probably wouldn’t have even noticed that the birds had gone quiet and the trees had altered their song, it was such a subtle change but change enough for an elf. A tingling sensation sprang down her spine, increasing her awareness and she slowly scanned her surroundings looking for the source of her discomfort.

Twisting her neck and glancing over her shoulder, she peered deep into the forest. She could see nothing behind her and hadn’t realized that she had wandered so far from the colony. So content was she in her reminiscing and so safe she had felt in this forest that she had carelessly gone too far.

The tingling she felt intensified and the trees called out a warning. She quickly turned back to where she had been working, resolving to collect her things and return to the colony at once. She would inform the guards of the warning she had received and they would hopefully investigate the source.

She was stopped in her course by the presence of a large man standing over her. Her emerald eyes slowly rose up his body taking in every detail of the stranger. His dark leather boots were turning gray with wear and they contrasted with his black pants. The dark tunic he wore was designed in a style she had never seen before. The black, swirling pattern that covered it was equally unfamiliar and captivating. His head and face were covered with thin dark cloth, revealing only dark brown, narrow eyes.

“Hello,” he said with a strange accent, the corners of his eyes turning up slightly as though he were smiling.

She rose quickly to her feet, coming up mere inches shorter than the stranger and he stepped forward, the herbs crunching beneath his boots.

“You should come with me, my sweet.”

Her fear increased and her breath began to come in short, quick gasps as panic started to overtake her. The forest around her had become so quiet and still that the pounding of her heart seemed to echo amongst the trees. She tossed her head from side to side searching desperately for someone, anyone who would help her. Praying that a patrol might find them.

His hand snapped out and grabbed her roughly by the forearm. His arms were large and strong, the coarseness of his palms scraping violently against her smooth, pale arm. She struggled and yanked her arm in an attempt to free herself, but to no avail.

“It will be easier if you do not fight me.”

Why hadn’t she sensed him sooner? Why hadn’t she listened more closely to the trees when they had changed their song? Why had she gone so far from the security of the colony?

She pulled with all of her strength and twisted her body away from her attacker hoping that a change in momentum might loosen his grasp. He had been anticipating this and quickly reached out his other arm and wrapped it around her thin waist. He pulled her to him, pinning her back to his chest with the strength in his arms.

Her terror intensified even more and she fought more furiously. Lifting her knee up, she quickly and forcefully swung her foot back, her heel connecting sharply with his shin. He cursed in a language that was foreign to her and she felt slightly satisfied at the pain she had caused him.

“I warned you,” he growled and before she could open her mouth to respond she felt a sharp prick on the side of her neck. A warm sensation began to spread throughout her body and she almost immediately felt weak.

He slid his arm behind her knees and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her like a small child.

As the earth began to spin around her and her vision began to fade images flashed through her mind. The colony, her elven colleagues and friends, the brook behind her home, her mother and her father. Her mind was reeling and visions and thoughts flashed through so quickly she could barely register what she was seeing.

I am sorry Father. Forgive me, for I have broken my promise.

The images ceased, her mind went blank and her vision went black.

Chapter 1 - Spring Shadows

Spring had finally arrived in Gondor and she wasn't shy about showing herself. Minas Tirith blossomed in the sunshine. An array of colors had begun to spread over the trees and in the gardens, colors that were strictly reserved for this time of year, some even appeared to be showing their tone for the first time.

Th beauty of the White City dims to that of home. Legolas stretched his long arms over his golden head, stifled a yawn and took in the magnificence of the sunrise. Though he did have his own room in the citadel of Minas Tirith and he spent equal amounts of time between here and Ithilien, he still considered the elven colony his home.

Leading the restoration of the forests of Ithilien had been an interesting and disquieting challenge, one that Legolas had accepted reluctantly. As a prince he had spent his entire adolescence under the tutelage of scholars in Mirkwood, preparing himself for just such an occasion, although he doubted that one could ever be fully prepared to guide such noble people through life. When he had reached adulthood, he had then spent his days in defense of his father's realm and dealing with minor affairs of government.

At times he resented his status, at times he was bored with the idea of being "trapped" in an office making decision after decision, scared of giving up the adventures that he thrived on. At times he was frightened that such a large responsibility would be placed on him, sure that there were other elves better suited for the job.

But he had come to really love it. He loved the elves who had come to help in the restoration. He loved the trees amongst which he dwelt. Even on the days in which the sea would call to him so strongly that it took all of his strength to withstand the pull, he knew that he had made the right choice.

Yet now he wondered about that decision once again. Ruling was not such a difficult task when things were running smoothly and good staff and advisors were standing behind you. But the peaceful, unobtrusive lives of the elves of Ithilien had been shattered and Legolas had no answers to the cause. Three of his people had vanished, taken or killed, Legolas didn't know. There were no signs, no clues, and fear and frustration was mounting in the fair colony.

Legolas leaned lightly against the balustrade of the balcony outside of his bedroom and relished in this rare moment of solitude and quiet. The light whisper of a morning breeze melted perfectly with the enthusiastic singing of a pair of sparrows perched overhead. He tried not to think of the troubles in Ithilien, hoping for a few moments of ignorant peace, but they were the cause of his journey to Minas Tirith and its nagging existence couldn't be ignored.

A light knocking on his bedroom door brought Legolas from his brooding and letting out a soft sigh he turned from the beauty of the dawn and the darkness of his thoughts.

"Come," he called as he walked back into the room.

The door swung slowly open and Legolas raised his eyes to see Arwen standing in the doorway. Her long velvet, burgundy dress bushed lightly over the floor and her dark tresses hung loosely over her shoulders.

"I did not think that I would see anything more lovely than that sunrise this morning," Legolas said with a smile spreading over his face.

"It is good to see you as well, Legolas." A light blush appeared in Arwen's cheeks and she returned the smile. "Would you care to join me for morning meal?"

Legolas responded with a gentle dip of his head and stepped toward her, offering his arm. She gently placed her delicate hand on top his and they exited the room allowing the door to swing shut behind them.

"Will Aragorn be joining us this morning?" he asked as they passed two maids hurrying about their morning duties.

Staff and aids could always be found bustling about the Citadel, but it was especially lively first thing in the morning. Maids and other various personnel stopped what they were doing and bowed to the two elves as they passed. Arwen and Legolas happily acknowledged each with a slight nod of the head and a short greeting of "Good Morning," then the pair would turn back to each other resuming their conversation as though it had never ceased.

"He is taking care of a small matter that has come up but will be joining us shortly." She paused momentarily, a flicker of concern showing in her eyes, "He has said that you have come to speak with him on something of great importance, is all well in Ithilien?"

Legolas did not answer Arwen, instead he began to walk somewhat faster guiding her on the weaving pathway through the maze like corridors within the Citadel until they had finally reached the dining hall. Those already breakfasting stood when the pair entered and Legolas bid them to sit with a wave of his hand. He had never understood the reason for all coming to a halt just because he had entered a room, and his obvious discomfort elicited and sympathetic smile from Arwen.

The Elf Prince pulled a chair out for Arwen and she gracefully accepted. She then turned her eyes back to the Legolas, her gaze pressing him for an answer to her previous question.

"I have come on very urgent and distressing business, but I do not wish to trouble you now." Legolas conceded. "Come, let us enjoy our meal together and I will tell you the news once Aragorn arrives."

"Yes my Lord, we have spoken previously on my career choice, but I did apprehend a man for whom your guards have been searching for three months." Alcandir's tone held no disrespect for the King but overflowed with such obvious arrogance that it caused the guards escorting the man to shift slightly with anxiety.

Aragorn studied the man with a critical eye, noting that Alcandir was attired in a manner very similar to that which he himself would have dressed in his days with the rangers. His clothing was black and looked as though they had been in use for far too many years. He hadn't had a good bath in several days and his dark brown hair, which dusted the tops of his shoulders, was in desperate need of brushing. The glint in his eyes spoke of much experience, trial and tribulation and he held his head high, keeping eye contact with Aragorn as they spoke.

"Indeed, however, you have destroyed a tavern and caused several, albeit mild, injuries to innocent bystanders in the process." Aragorn held Alcandir's gaze in return and fought to keep his irritation in check. The King had spoken with Alcandir on several occasions with regards to his methods of bringing in those wanted for a price.

Although Gondor was a much more peaceful place than it had been years ago it was still a large, active realm and was bound to have its share of problems. Thieves, murderers and those who had served the Dark Lord during the War of the Ring managed to keep the Gondorian soldiers on their toes and several bounty hunters employed.

Alcandir was also known to have worked out of Rohan as well and had given Eomer his fair share of headaches. The two Kings had spent one long night, over many ales, comparing stories of this man and his antics. Both swore to never bring that night up in mixed company, under the penalty of death or worse, sworn revenge.

Alcandir tilted his head slightly and sighed, a look of complete boredom coming over his face, "My Lord..."

"Alcandir," Aragorn interrupted, "although bounty hunting is not forbidden in Gondor, I will not accept you destroying private property and injuring unlucky citizens who have the mishap of wandering into your path."

The King stopped, took a deep breath and dropped his head, studying his boots as he thought. His arms were folded firmly over his chest, pressed against his deep blue tunic, the gold trim pressing into the flesh of his wrists. He held perfectly still for a moment, contemplating the judgement he was about to pass.

"I think," stated Aragorn, raising his head again, "that it would be best if you took a little time off from your work to think about today's discussion." And the last half dozen discussions we have had as well. "I am sentencing you to two weeks in Gondor's jail where you will have plenty of time to come up with a new method of accomplishing your work. Now, if that will be all for the moment, I have another matter that needs attending to."

Aragorn watched as his guards escorted Alcandir out of the hall, his head held high. The bounty hunter showed no anger or disappointment, he simply smiled and nodded to those present as he was led from room, his footsteps echoing over the stone floor.

Interesting.

Aragorn descended the stairs and walked toward his private entrance. He was expected at another meeting by two people he was very anxious to spend time with, one of which he hadn't seen in some time. He feared, however, that what he was about to hear from Legolas would not improve his day any.

Chapter 2 - Discourse

"How many?" Aragorn asked, his eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to absorb what Legolas had just told him.

Arwen sat next to her husband listening closely to what was being said but not including herself in the discussion.

Legolas, sat opposite Aragorn leaning forward resting his arms on the table and looking directly into Aragorn's eyes. "Three over the course of a month, that we are aware of." He was tense, every bit of stress and fear that he had been feeling over the past couple of weeks had seemed to settle in his muscles. His back and neck were tight and ached from lack of rest and his eyelids were heavy due to a prolonged absence of sleep.

"That you are aware of?" Aragorn raised his eyebrows in surprise. It was very unusual that the elven colony didn't know exactly what was going on in their forests. It concerned him that whatever had happened to these missing elves was done so stealthily that it had caught even them off guard.

Legolas stiffened even more as he tried to cope with the shame he felt for not having a straight answer. "Aragorn," he began, "the elves of Ithilien are free to come and go as they please. The royal guard is currently speaking with other elves in the area and searching the surrounding forests for any signs."

The Elf Lord sent up a silent prayer to the Valar that there would be answers waiting when he returned home. He hoped that there was a simple explanation for the disappearance of the three elves, but deep in the back of his mind there was a nagging feeling that something more sinister was at work.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Aragorn leaning back in his chair with a large sigh. "Who are those that are missing?"

One of the things that Legolas had sworn to himself was to make an effort to know all of the elves who had come to Ithilien. He had made it a requirement that all who came to the colony would present themselves to him and his advisors. His father had always pressed upon him the importance of knowing who resided within your realm, and there was really no arguing that Thranduil was a great king. Legolas had watched his father at work as often as he could. Observing how he responded to certain situations and how he communicated with his subjects. Sure he was known to have a temper and Legolas had been on the receiving end of his anger on many occasions, but it was never ill placed and when all was said and done the King had always judged correctly.

"Nienna and Lómëdil, of Mirkwood. They were bonded just after the destruction of the One Ring and came to Ithilien shortly thereafter. I did not know them well, but they were diligent and loyal and have been very much in love for many centuries. The third, most recent, was Adaria of Lothlorien. She has been learning the healing arts recently and vanished whilst collecting herbs."

"Aye, I knew her. I believe Arwen did as well." Arwen nodded in agreement with Aragorn's comment. "She came to the Houses of Healing on a number of occasions to learn and share new herbs and methods. I did not know Nienna or Lómëdil but let us hope that they are together and can rely on one another for strength."

"It is my hope that they are not in need of added strength." Legolas uttered quietly.

There was silence for a moment as each thought about the possibilities of what had happened to those missing. It was altogether possible that they had succumbed to the calling of the sea and had departed, but for an elf to leave without word was something unheard of and the prospect that something more menacing was occurring weighed heavily on each of their minds.

"Help me understand one thing Legolas," Aragorn said with a slight twinge of frustration in his voice, "elves are vanishing, without any trace of what is happening to them, and you ride to Minas Tirith without any type of escort?"

Legolas knew that this was coming and also knew that no explanation that he could offer would satisfy his long time friend. The Elf Prince and former ranger had taken it upon themselves to be each others protector, but the longer they knew one another the more they had come to realize that they had each taken on a near impossible responsibility.

"There is much to be done in Ithilien. I wanted every available elf working on finding those missing. As well, I do not want people to panic. I have enforced the need to be aware and cautious, but I also want to show them that we cannot be scared to live our lives."

Legolas held eye contact with Aragorn momentarily and could tell that the King was not accepting his explanation. "Aragorn, I think that I have proven that I am capable of taking care of myself," he added with a smirk.

Aragorn returned the smile, "That is something that you and I could spend the eternities debating and still never come to any type of agreement. I seem to recall you dragging me into many an adventure before you became Lord of Ithilien."

Legolas' smile deepened at this statement as he remembered some of the many adventures to which Aragorn was referring. The two had managed to get themselves into quite a few less than desirable situations.

Aragorn's smile fell, his expression becoming serious once more, "Where is Angrod?"

Angrod had been a lifetime friend of Legolas'. He was a mere half-century older than Legolas and in elven years that was next to nothing. They had been almost inseparable while growing up in Mirkwood and had given Thranduil many a headache and scare during their elfling years. Angrod had also had the poor fortune of getting himself pulled into some of Aragorn's and Legolas' many adventures and had sworn that the two were cursed with bad luck.

"I sent him, along with another guard, to inform Faramir of the situation. They are to meet me on the journey home and we will travel back to Ithilien together." Legolas explained.

Aragorn nodded at the knowledge of this and furrowed his brow back up, his eyes staring off into the distance as he returned to his thoughts.

"Aragorn," Legolas continued, "I do not know that this is anything to cause real alarm, however, I felt it best to inform you and Faramir of the situation so that you could take the necessary precautions."

Aragorn nodded once again, his thoughts still remaining far away, trying to remember anything he had learned as a ranger that might explain what was going on. "And, thus far, there were no signs at all?"

"No."

"No signs of a struggle, no signs of foul play, no signs of these elves at all?"

"No," Legolas let out a small sigh and glanced over to Arwen, "Nothing." He saw her flinch slightly at this and she stared openly at Legolas, sadness and confusion written in the expression on her face.

Legolas returned his attention back to Aragorn, "We are doing everything in our power to find them, or find what has happened to them," he said in barely above a whisper.

"I will send a contingent of men back with you to assist in your search," Aragorn began but was quickly interrupted by Legolas.

"No, I think that it is best that your men stay here to protect you and the people of Minas Tirith. As well, the fewer men we have tracking through and around Ithilien the less chance we have of destroying any signs that might lead us to the lost three."

Aragorn considered this for a moment, "Agreed. When do you plan to return to Ithilien?"

Legolas mulled this over, he wanted to return home as soon as possible to check on the progress of the search, however, it was rare that he was able to spend time with Aragorn and Arwen. He would have enjoyed a leisurely visit in Minas Tirith, but now obviously was not the time, not when the elves of Ithilien needed his guidance and leadership more than ever.

In the end his devotion to his people won out. "I plan to leave shortly, I want to get back and see what, if anything, has been discovered"

Legolas saw understanding in Aragorn's expression and he wasn't surprised. Aragorn had the same love and devotion for the people of Gondor and would not want to be away, either, at such a time.

He thought how interesting it was that the two of them had developed such a bond with each other. The time they had spent together and the times they had confided in one another had formed an inimitable relationship between the two. They had begun to think a lot alike and could usually tell what the other was thinking just by looking into their eyes. They could communicate with the slightest of facial expressions and eye signals. Even when they were apart, Legolas being in Ithilien and Aragorn in Minas Tirith, they had a unique connection.

"Aye, it must be difficult being away and not knowing what progress is being made," said Aragorn.

Indeed, it was very difficult for Legolas. Thoughts were constantly racing through his head with regards to the missing elves. He hoped that he would arrive in Ithilien to find that they had returned. He worried and wondered if others had vanished in his absence.

"At the very least, take an escort with you," Arwen pleaded.

Legolas could hear the concern in Arwen's voice. He hated to see her upset. He would have preferred to keep the news of the disappearances from her, but these were her people as well and he felt that she had a right to know.

He reached his hand across the table and placed it over hers reassuringly. "I will be fine Arwen, it is a short ride and I will make better time on my own. I will be careful."

Arwen held Legolas' eyes and smiled but Legolas could tell that she was hiding her fears. He gave her a comforting smile in return and then rose from the table.

"I must gather my things so that I can be on my way."

Aragorn rose in unison with Legolas, a discontent look on his face. "Send word if there are any changes. And Legolas, do not hesitate to request aid if it is needed."

Legolas raised his right arm and placed his hand over his heart, he fluidly swept his hand out and away from his body in a respectful farewell, then turned and walked silently out of the dining hall. The King and Queen's eye's followed his departure every step of the way, an unexplainable fear and anxiety increasing inside them as Legolas stepped out of the room and disappeared from sight.

Chapter 3 - A Futile Fight

Something didn’t feel right.

Legolas slowly scanned the area surrounding him as he rode through the trees toward Ithilien. The elf practically melted into his surroundings, his dark green tunic with silver etching almost hid him amongst the trees. If it weren’t for the sun shining off of his golden head, one probably wouldn’t be able to see him at all.

His horse also sensed something amiss. Legolas could feel it tense beneath him and noted that its ears twitched more rapidly the further they traveled from Minas Tirith. Beleg wasn’t a skittish horse. Legolas had received him as a gift from his father. He came to Ithilien with Angrod and he was a strong, reliable animal. He was very similar in color to Arod but with dark gray spattering over his neck and legs.

The adjustment that came with switching horses had actually been quite easy for Legolas, and he felt that Arod had earned the rest after the War of the Ring. While he did still ride with Arod occasionally, it was done only for relaxation where Beleg was now used for official matters.

It didn’t take long for Legolas and Beleg to earn each others trust and respect and Legolas found that he enjoyed his riding time with Beleg as much as Arod.

“I feel it as well my friend.” Legolas spoke softly to the horse.

It had been unusually warm for a Spring day when the two had departed Minas Tirith. There was a slight breeze that had picked up as the day wore on and because the weather had been so enjoyable, neither elf nor horse felt the need to rush their journey. Beleg had even begun to tease with Legolas by ignoring the prince’s commands and dancing sideways and turning in circles. It was his way of playing with the golden elf and Legolas, for his part, would act upset with his steed.

Moments earlier, the clear ringing of the elves laughter mixed with the joyous whinny of the beautiful horse filled the treetops. Now the silence was deafening and the two were on their highest guard. As the sun was sinking closer to the horizon and there was an uneasy sense flooding him, Legolas urged the horse to increase its pace.

The trees as well had changed their song, they were distinctly warning the Prince of something, their cautionary advice growing louder with each step the horse took.

Legolas hadn’t sensed any threats in years, there had been the occasional wandering pack of orcs or wargs that had crossed his path soon after the fall of Sauron. But most had been destroyed long ago and he had not seen any of the horrible creatures in quite a time.

The trees surrounding them weren’t extremely thick but they did present obstacles for his vision and he continuously turned his head back and forth seeking out the threat. Searching intently through the foliage, Legolas slowly raised his right hand over his shoulder to reach for his bow.

The trees opened up slightly to present a small clearing that Legolas knew well. Beleg shied and neighed softly at the entrance to the clearing and Legolas gently patted his neck to ease him. The golden elf debated with himself as the horse stepped gingerly out of the trees, the forest so quiet that the sound of Beleg’s hoofs, stepping on the natural items that littered the forest floor, seemed to echo around him.

The warning that he heard and felt was not one familiar to him and Legolas searched his memory quickly for anything he may have learned or heard that would explain the anxiety that he and Beleg felt. He had faced many a foe, but this was nothing like what he had felt with them.

The whistle of the arrow as it flew through the air verified his fears. He swiftly turned his head in the direction of the approaching projectile just in time to see it slam into the side of Beleg’s neck.

Beleg screamed in protest and he reared up on his hind legs. Legolas increased his grip on the horse’s mane and leaned forward in an attempt to stay on the injured animal, but as the animal’s forelegs reconnected heavily with the ground he stumbled and fell coming down hard on his right side.

Legolas pushed himself away from the horse, as it fell, to avoid becoming pinned beneath the large animal. As he landed he swiftly rolled sideways and up onto his feet his bow now clutched firmly in his hand.

The first thing he noticed as he righted himself was his beloved horse lying still on the hard earth with an arrow protruding from the side of his neck. All sense fled him and Legolas hurried to his friend’s side, “Beleg?” he whispered as he fell to his knees and scanned the horse’s injuries.

Blood flowed freely from the arrow wound and stained Beleg’s coat a deep crimson. Legolas slowly rubbed his hand over Beleg’s neck searching for any sign of life. The arrow had been expertly fired and had hit the animal’s neck precisely. Beleg’s breathing was loud and erratic and as Legolas’ eyes came to fall on Beleg’s clouded orbs, he realized that his friend would probably not survive the injury.

Dropping his chin to his chest, his eyes filling with tears, Legolas whispered a silent prayer for his loyal friend. He knelt there on the ground next to Beleg for a moment when a cold chill ran up his spine reminding the sorrowful elf of his current predicament. He snapped back to his senses and knew that the one who had fired the fateful shot stood just behind him.

In one swift movement, and faster than his foes eyes could follow, Legolas spun around, rose to his feet, nocked an arrow, pointing it directly at the murderers neck.

The man was dressed almost entirely in black, loose clothing. His head and face were wrapped, revealing only cold, dark eyes. As his eyes came to meet the eyes of his attacker, anger surged through Legolas.

“You attack one unaware and whilst hidden,” Legolas hissed, “you either are a coward or have a wish for death.”

“You may kill me elf,” retorted the strange man, ”but you will not leave here a free being.”

Legolas pulled the string of his bow a little further back and narrowed his eyes, “Shall we test your theory, human?”

The bushes surrounding him began to rustle and Legolas could see out of the corner of his eye more men, similarly dressed, stepping out into the open.

“Lets.” Sneered the man standing at the tip of his arrow.

Legolas let fly his arrow, the force of the impact throwing the man backwards, blood spraying over the elf’s tunic. Spinning around to face the oncoming attack he found himself surrounded by a half-dozen men, several with arrows nocked and pointed directly at him.

One of the men stepped slightly forward and shouted to Legolas, “Drop your weapon, elf. We would prefer to take you unharmed.”

Legolas turned his focus to this man and with a deadly glare responded, “I would prefer to not be taken at all, human.”

“That cannot be avoided, you might as well save us all the trouble and come willingly.”

Legolas’ eyes roved over the men surrounding him again, sizing up his attackers, “Oh, but I believe that it can be avoided.” His voice had turned hard as he prepared himself for the oncoming battle.

Before he could finish his statement, one of the men standing behind Legolas let go his arrow. The elf knew it was coming and easily spun out of the way and returned his own arrow, striking the man in the chest.

Legolas could hear the other men firing their arrows and he spun, twisted and parried quicker than his attackers could follow. The rain of arrows came quick and great and Legolas stumbled as pain seared through his left thigh where one lucky arrow had connected with its target.

He dropped to one knee and let another arrow fly, hitting one man in the stomach. The scream that elicited from the man, as he fell, rang in Legolas’ ears causing the elf to flinch slightly

Legolas rose to his feet again, the pain of his injury radiating through his leg and causing a flash of white to blind his vision temporarily. He could feel the warmth of his blood as it spread across his leggings and dripped down his leg.

He was reaching for another arrow when he realized that his attackers had unexpectedly stopped their onslaught. Spinning in quick concise circles, his eyes stopping on each of the men, Legolas noted a familiarity about these men. He had met their kind before. But what are they doing in Ithilien?

He took aim at each man individually, daring any of them to attack again. Praying that his leg would continue to hold him, but feeling it weaken under his weight.

A subtle prick on his upper right shoulder blade, followed by a warm, tingling sensation propelled fear through the elf. Numbness began to spread from the source of his discomfort, flowing down to his fingers and up over his shoulder into his neck, causing Legolas to lose his grip on his bow.

Legolas knew that he had been hit with a dart and that the battle was now lost.

The trees and men around him began to spin and tilt and Legolas struggled to maintain his focus on the world around him. Nausea welled up within him at the motion caused by the drug of the fateful dart.

The strength in his legs gave out and he fell to his knees once again, the pain to the arrow wound from the impact temporarily forcing his mind to take focus once more, however fleetingly. His head was beginning to feel extremely heavy and it was getting difficult for the golden elf to hold it erect, the blonde head bobbed and swayed in opposition with his body.

Falling forward his head connected sharply with the ground. The fall forcing the arrow through his leg, but Legolas was too numb to feel the pain any longer.

As he finally came to rest, blood pooling around his leg and head, he found himself staring directly into the empty eyes of his fallen friend. “Beleg.” He softly whispered, then his eyes rolled back into his head and Legolas’ world went black.

Chapter 4 - Perceptions

Bright, white light flashed in his head and Legolas could hear someone speaking but could not understand what was being said. There was an intense, throbbing pain in his leg that beckoned him to wake and his right arm was numb causing the tips of his fingers to tingle. His head ached as well, the dull pain originated on his right temple than spread from there, running down the side of his face and over his forehead.

As Legolas began to register what he was feeling he struggled to open his eyes and he heard himself let out a soft moan.

His eyelids fluttered open and the elf found himself lying on his back looking up, with blurry eyes, into the branches of a large tree. The edges of a bandage wrapped around his head obstructed part of his vision and he struggled to remember what had happened

"Aragorn?" His throat was dry and his voice was so soft and raspy that he could barely hear himself speak.

The trees looming overhead sang a sad song and Legolas wondered what might have occurred to upset them so. The branches began to spin and tilt uncharacteristically, the motion causing nausea to well up inside of Legolas and he closed his eyes tightly to shut out the movement. When he reopened his eyes, he was greeted with the face of a man.

Legolas tried to focus his vision so that he could make out the man's features, hoping that he would recognize who it was looking down on him. He could make out dark, shoulder length hair and dark clothing and thought that it might be Aragorn tending to him. But why is he dressed in such a manner?

"Aragorn, what has happened?" Once again he forced his dry throat to work for him but could still barely make out his own words.

The man slowly tilted his head and glared into Legolas' eyes. "It is not yet time, elf." He said with a thickly accented voice that definitely did not belong to the King of Gondor.

The man's attention shifted from Legolas' face and the golden elf could hear shuffling and movement around him. He attempted to turn his head to follow the man, trying to discern what he meant by the strange statement but the sudden movement caused the pain in his head to intensify and he closed his eyes tightly once again hoping that the action would alleviate some of his anguish.

Before his questions could be answered or his discomfort alleviated there was a sharp sting in his shoulder and Legolas never reopened his eyes, taken swiftly, once again, into oblivion.

At these words, Medero lifted his head from the maps he was reading to acknowledge the healer. He had been leading this group of ragtag hunters for two months now and he sometimes grew impatient with their need for constant supervision and affirmation.

He referred to them as hunters because catching elves took extreme skill and stealth and these men, whom he had hand picked, were good. They were patient when it came time to stalk their prey and they were efficient when it came time to take what they pursued. They always got the ones they were after, he had never failed in a job and because of this he was well known and very well paid.

"Give him another dose and keep a close eye on him," he responded, "Let me know when he wakes again."

"I have already administered another dose, sir, and he sleeps again. I felt that you ought to be informed of his condition." With these words the healer turned on his heel and began walking back to the unconscious elf.

"Kael." Medero's voice stopped the healer in his tracks. "What of his other wounds?"

Returning back to Medero, Kael folded his arms loosely over his chest. He was a small man, coming just to Medero's shoulders and was quite thin. Not an imposing man at all like Medero was, but he could definitely hold his own if necessary. Medero had seen him defend himself against some of his other men who thought to take advantage of the healer, both lived to regret their actions and no one had bothered the slight man since.

"I have stitched the entry and exit wounds in his leg caused by your man's arrow. I do not think that we will have to worry about infection. The cut to his head was deep and stubborn, but the bleeding has ceased and that wound is bandaged as well."

Medero listened closely to the healers words. Kael was assigned to his crew by the man who had hired him and although there was usually no need for a healer when collecting slaves, elves had a reputation for being proud, difficult creatures. His employer had decided that in order to make the trip back to Harad without incident, that sedating the elves, until they were well within the desert, would be the best method for transporting his merchandise. Medero would need a healer available to ensure the drug was administered accurately.

It was also good to have him after taking this last elf down. It had been quite a shock when the men had returned to camp bearing the injured and dead. His man had made a grave error in shooting the elf's horse, alerting the being to their presence. But he had ended up paying for his mistake with his life when he had taken an arrow through the throat.

"Will he heal?" The question was an important one because if this elf were to pass, Medero and his men would need to make another run into the forest to obtain a replacement.

Medero was anxious to be returning home. He had been hired for four elves and with this most recent acquisition he had met his quota. They were now heading South to meet up with the rest of his group, where the other three elves were being held, then continuing on to Marek from there.

"I believe he will." With this statement Kael turned from his boss and returned to his task of attending to the golden elf.

With his eyes, Medero followed the healer's steps to where his injured cargo lay and wondered if he could get extra pay for this particular elf. The elf had managed to kill three of his men in a matter of seconds, one while trying to maintain his balance due to a nasty leg wound. Surely someone with his skill would fetch a higher price.

As well, pale hair was not seen in Harad and slaves with this physical trait were more desirable due to their scarcity, he and his crew had been extremely fortunate to come across this one.

Standing from the log on which he was resting, he began to make his way toward the unconscious elf, coming to stand over him. The golden elf looked almost dead with his pale skin and lack of motion, a large bruise had spread from the site of his head wound, running down his cheek. His curiosity piqued Medero crouched down for a closer look. Seeing the slow, erratic rise and fall of the elf's chest satisfied him that his captive yet lived and his eyes traveled down to the elf's leg wound.

The elf's leggings had been cut away from the wound and it had been tightly bandaged. The bleeding had ceased but not before leaving a scarlet stain on the white wrapping. It would be extremely painful for the elf, until it could heal properly.

This was another reason that the sedation of the fair being had been necessary. The company had to be moving and the elf wouldn't be able to travel quickly with an injury such as this. If the fair being could sleep through the trip, he would be unaware of any discomfort that either wound might cause. However, once they reached the larger camp the elf would be woken, no one would be foolish enough to attempt an escape with so many men around.

Medero rose back to his feet and continued to look down on the lifeless elf. There was something different about this one, even injured and unconscious he had a different air about him than the other three. Even in his current, fragile state, the golden elf emitted a certain radiant aura that Medero had never witnessed before.

"Strange is it not?" Kael's voice brought Medero from his musings and he turned to the small man with an inquisitive eye. "He almost seems to glow. I noticed this in the other elves as well, but not in the same way." Medero didn't comment he just listened to the healer as he attested to his observations. "Perhaps it is just the paleness of his hair that we are not used to, but he seems different from the other elves to me."

Medero found himself entranced, he had been stunned by the beauty of the she-elves they had captured but he was mesmerized by the essence that this golden elf exuded. He had a good feeling about this one and the extra pay he could receive for him. This elf was lucky and he would personally keep a close watch on him.

Chapter 5 - Dawning Fears

To say that Angrod was worried was an understatement. To say that he was scared was laughable. The dark elf had been delayed in his meeting with Faramir and hadn’t met Legolas like they had arranged, so he had assumed that he had gone on to the colony without him. He had begun to panic when he had arrived in Ithilien and discovered that his Prince and friend had yet to return from Minas Tirith.

He had tried to convince Legolas to take an escort, he had practically begged him and yet Legolas had still gone alone. He had always been so stubborn, even while growing up he had resisted the aid and protection given him due to his bloodline. It had been a source of frustration then and was downright agitating now.

Angrod and another elven guard had traveled to speak with Faramir on the disappearance of the three elves. Now as he raced toward the White City, his near black hair flying behind him, he had a terrible feeling that a fourth elf had vanished. The fear that this elf was a childhood friend and Lord of Ithilien made his breath catch in his throat.

Relax, Legolas has probably just decided to spend a little extra time in Minas Tirith with Aragorn.

This thought calmed the dark elf very little, he knew that if Legolas had decided to extend his visit that he would have sent word. It was Angrod’s responsibility to keep the Prince safe and if any harm had come to Legoals, Angrod would not be able to live with himself. But, then again, he probably wouldn’t have to worry about that, he and Legolas were so close that the death of the Prince would likely mean the death of Angrod.

He could hear the small escort behind him struggling to keep up. When he had raced out of Ithilien to find Legolas, he had done so without any guards of his own, those trailing behind him had quickly noticed this and had pursued him in order to ensure his safety.

He raced through the forest, dodging branches and ducking limbs. His horse could sense his urgency and fear and pressed on leaping over and swerving around obstacles that appeared in their path. He bent low over the animal, whispering words of encouragement and thanks as they flew along, the horse just as anxious to reach their destination as he was.

The forest seemed darker recently, as though the fate of the missing elves had already been learned by the trees and some of their light had been extinguished. But at times the trees in this area could still get very distressed due to their close proximity to Mordor and old memories could be confused with new feelings. Angrod hoped this was the case now.

His dark thoughts were promptly interrupted by shouting from behind him, “Sir!”

Angrod slowed his horse and turned to face the three approaching elven guards who had fallen a pace behind.

“Sir,” said Sildur, a guard with dark hair and silver eyes, “We do not want to overexert the horses.”

“My apologies, Sildur, I am in a hurry to reach Minas Tirith.”

“Sir, we are all in fear for the fate of Lord Legolas, however, it will take us longer to reach the city if we have to finish the journey on foot.”

Angrod let out a soft sigh, “Noted, I will allow our horses a short rest, but then we must continue in haste.” Angrod dismounted and stepped in front of his horse, rubbing his hand up and down the animal’s neck he looked into its brown eyes and whispered, “Take a rest my friend, we resume our journey shortly.”

The brown mare tossed her head back in acknowledgment and trotted away leaving Angrod alone with his thoughts. Now that he was standing in solitude, he could clearly hear the tree’s mournful song. They were warning the woodelf of something and mourning the loss of a great friend. Angrod’s eyes flew to the limbs above and he stepped to a nearby tree and pressed his hand to the rough bark. The tree spoke of two lost and the deep despair that was felt throughout the forest.

Wasting time, we should be moving, we should be searching.

Angrod thanked the tree for its help, removed his hand from the tree and began pacing briskly between the thick trunks. He was so nervous and frightened for his friend that he walked without his usual elven grace, turning so quickly that he kicked up a slight cloud of dust causing his three companions to stare in shock.

Calm down. Panicking will not help us to find Legolas.

Approaching the end of his repeated path, Angrod began to turn back toward the other three guards, noting the expressions on their faces and the settling dust he stopped to compose himself. He scanned the forest around them, searching out their steeds when something had caught his eye just off to his left through the trees.

What is that? Narrowing his eyes, he peered hard in the direction of the mysterious object, catching a brief glimpse of something partially obscured by the large branches and thick bushes scattered amongst the trees. He stepped hesitantly forward between the trunks when realization dawned on him as it became clear what had made him stop in this tracks. He gasped and moving faster than even he, himself, thought possible, he tore through the brush.

The smell hit him like a stone wall, almost causing Angrod to stumble backwards. His steps slowed, and he moved unassuredly closer to the clearing knowing even more now what was going to meet him. As he emerged into the glade, he came to an abrupt stop and his deepest fear was confirmed.

“NO!” He shouted, “Beleg.”

Angrod lurched forward and came down hard on his knees next to the animal’s head. Tears clouded his vision as he looked up to see the other three elves enter the clearing.

Angrod turned his eyes back to the horse. An arrow protruded from the side of its neck, an arrow that Angrod did not recognize the make of. He reached out and pulled the projectile from the horse’s neck. It was fletched with light brown feathers and the tip was thicker than that of elven, Gondorian or Rohirrim make.

Angrod then returned his attention to the horse. Legolas’ beloved animal had obviously been lying in the clearing for several days. Scavengers had begun to pick at the carcass, leaving little behind to identify the animal with. There was a distinct smell of death and corrosion in the air and Angrod fought to maintain his composure as he gagged slightly from the sight and smell.

The dark elf dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes, tears came unbidden and nausea began to overwhelm him. He sent up a quiet prayer to the Valar, both for Beleg and for Legolas. Unable to stomach the facts now placed before him, Angrod twisted on his knees away from the valiant being. He ran a shaking hand over his face and wiped the tears from his eyes.

It took all of his energy to rise to his feet and face the other elves, an expression of sadness and fear mirrored on their faces. Anger began to swell inside him. Someone had attacked his Prince. His friend. Clenching his fists tightly at his sides, he let out a shrill whistle and approached the other elves, all of whom had the same anger blazing in their eyes.

“Galendur, Harnen, stay here and take care of Beleg.” He ordered. “Once that is completed, I want you to carefully begin the search for signs of the Prince or the direction he was taken in.

“Sildur, come with me. We will continue to the White City. We need to speak to Aragorn immediately. The sun sets, we will not arrive this night, but we shall travel as far as possible with the light.”

Angrod’s horse stepped lightly into the clearing and he swiftly swung up onto its back, the arrow still gripped tightly in his fist. Please let this not be as it appears, please let Legolas be safe.

With this thought running repeatedly through his mind Angrod urged his horse into a run hoping against hope that his questions would be answered in Minas Tirith.

It took a brief moment for Legolas to realize that his eyes were even open. But as his vision finally came into focus he could see the subtle outlines of tree branches overhead, the moonlight peering through the tiny openings between limbs and leaves.

Raising up onto his elbows to inspect his surroundings, the elf was thrown into a whirlwind of spinning and pounding in his deeply aching head. He froze and taking a couple of deep breaths to ease the pain and nausea, pushed himself the rest of the way up so that he as in a sitting position. His vision swam in and out of focus and his head seemed heavy. Part of his right eye was obscured and Legolas reached his hand up to investigate. Clumsily his fingers groped the bandage that covered most of his head and he struggled to remember where he was and what had happened.

Looking sluggishly around him he noticed that he was on the outskirts of a small camp. A fire burned dimly in the center, some yards away from him, three men lay scattered about the camp, all deeply asleep. There didn’t appear to be any guards keeping watch on their dark surroundings and Legolas found this curious.

Slowly turning over onto his knees so that he could lift himself off of the forest floor, he was assaulted by another intense pain, this one radiating from his thigh. Crouched now on all fours, not daring to move any further due to the injuries that plagued him, Legolas began to remember.

Memories flashed through his head, a visit to Minas Tirith and a lone journey home to Ithilien. He was attacked and...

“Beleg.” The strained sob came out as barely a whisper. They had killed his beloved horse. The memory of his loyal steed’s empty eyes caused Legolas to gag and he forced the image from his mind. It was not how he wanted to remember his friend.

Then what, he was obviously injured during the attack, but who had mended his wounds. Perhaps those he had awoken amongst had meant to help him, after all he wasn’t bound and there wasn’t a guard watching over him. He slowly tilted his head back over his shoulder to view the camp once more. None of the sleeping men had stirred, the soft sound of snoring now rising above the camp.

More likely they were not expecting me to wake so soon

Ignoring the agonizing pain that now seemed to touch every part of his body Legolas pushed himself up to his feet. His hand flew out to the tree he had been lying beneath and he leaned heavily on it for support. The spinning and pounding in his head intensified but seemed mild compared to the heat searing through his leg.

He was tempted to stay where he was now, the tree was attempting to comfort him and it was working, but he knew that he needed to get away. Taking slow, deep breaths, Legolas pushed himself from the tree. He swayed on his feet for a moment, mentally commanding his leg to stay strong and hold his weight. Then, without looking back at the sleeping men once more, the elf stumbled of into the forest.

Chapter 6 - Crossroads

Legolas was no sooner out of the campsite when he could hear shouts coming from behind him. He had been wrong, someone had been keeping watch and they had seen him just as he had stumbled into the forest.

His leg quivered beneath him, threatening to give with each step. He had torn the stitches with the first bit of movement and blood had started soaking the once white bandage. His head continued to spin and throb and Legolas went from tree to tree, leaning heavily on each trunk to maintain his upright position. The palms of his hands tore with each press to the rough bark as he forcefully fell into the trunks.

The sun was just preparing to make it’s daily journey and he could now see a little more clearly by the gray light that began to spread over the sky. His feet crunched loudly over the twigs and old leaves that carpeted the forest floor and Legolas struggled to lighten his steps. He mentally cursed himself for his lack of strength and agility.

"STOP!" The shout echoed amongst the trees, causing a flock of birds to take flight in fear. "I do not want to harm you elf."

Legolas stopped, he leaned on his shoulder against yet another tree, giving his tattered hands some respite. Now is the time for strength. Focusing his mind on all of his remaining energy and strength Legolas pushed himself off of the tree and turned to face the owner of the command.

"You are in no condition to be running through the forest elf." The tall dark man was standing several yards from Legolas and began to step forward as he spoke.

Legolas didn’t respond, rather he glared darkly at the man. He could feel his body trembling from fatigue, but the man couldn’t detect the weakness and Legolas planned to use that to his advantage. The golden elf could hear the sounds of men moving around him, surrounding him on all sides. He knew now that these men were not only trying to offer him aid and the realization that there was no escape began to dawn on him.

The one he was facing had removed a dagger from his belt and was stepping ever closer toward him a sickly smile on his face. "Come on elf, you do not actually believe that you can escape do you?"

The men approaching from behind and to the sides were now so close that Legolas could hear their breathing. Knowing deep in the back of his mind that he would not win this fight in his current weakened condition, but never one to just give up, Legolas lunged at the man before him.

The two hit the ground hard, Legolas coming out on top, trying desperately to ignore the pain in his leg and head. His bloody hands grabbed the other man’s wrists immediately to prevent the dagger from coming any closer. The fight for control continued only briefly before two more men emerged and taking the injured elf by the arms, one on each side, pulled Legolas up off his opponent and shoved him hard to the ground.

Legolas landed on his stomach, fighting with all that was left in him. His left arm was wrenched sharply behind his back and a knee came down heavily between his shoulder blades.

"Kael!" This voice belonged to another man, and it sounded stronger and more commanding. "Give him a double dose this time. I do not want a repeat performance."

"Sir, I do not know how his weakened body will react to such a strong dose. It is not recommended."

Legolas was mentally taking notes in his head. He had now heard three distinct voices and the one with the deeper, more powerful voice was obviously in command. He tried to twist his head to look over his shoulder at his captors, hoping to get a better look at them, but with every twitch or slight jerk the one on top of him would increase the weight on the knee pressed into his back.

"I did not ask your opinion. He is obviously not as weakened as we had thought. I do not want to see him awakened again before reaching the others. Is that understood?"

There was no response to this new order and Legolas couldn’t hear anything other than some shuffling. A hand was then placed firmly on the side of his head, holding him down even more causing the elf to panic at what he knew was coming. He began to kick his legs furiously hoping to catch one of the men unaware but his attempts only resulted in a sharp kick to his already injured leg.

The new pain knocked the air out of Legolas’ lungs and his fighting stopped. A familiar prick to his right arm followed and frustrated over his loss of control, the Elf Prince slipped from consciousness yet again.

****************************************************************************

Aragorn was trying not to look bored. He was trying to look interested in what his advisors were saying. The trouble was, it was only the first meeting of the morning and already his mind was elsewhere. His mind was off on Pelennor Fields flying on his horse. His mind was strolling through the gardens with Arwen. His mind was definitely not in the counsel room where it should have been.

"My Lord?"

Aragorn was ripped from his daydreaming to find himself the focus of five sets of eyes, "Hmm?"

"Are you still with us my Lord?"

Aragorn flushed with humiliation. His embarrassment more due to getting caught than his lack of attention. He really was concerned about the people of Gondor and their well-being and happiness, but some days the fresh air and sunshine were too strong a distraction.

"My apologies Leandir, perhaps we should take a break and resume later." Later tomorrow would be preferable. He added to himself.

"Sir, I must insist..." Leandir was interrupted by a slight knock at the counsel room door. They weren’t expecting anyone to join them and once again Aragorn found himself the center of attention as his five advisors looked to him for an explanation.

"Come." Aragorn called, with a slight shrug indicating he didn’t know who was calling but thankful for the interruption.

The large wooden door swung open and a guard stepped into the room, "Please excuse the intrusion my Lords, but Captain Angrod is requesting an audience with The King."

Aragorn’s eyebrows shot up and he looked at the royal guard with disbelief. What was Angrod doing in Minas Tirith? Surely he knew that Legolas had already come and spoken with him regarding the disappearance of the elves.

Aragorn’s stomach flipped and his heart felt as though it had stopped, Oh Valar, something has happened. He rose quickly to his feet, unable to sit still any longer.

"By all means, send him in immediately." Commanded Aragorn.

Before the guard could even turn to retrieve the dark elf, Angrod burst into the room with another elf hot on his heels. Both elves were covered in dust and seemed out of breath. Characteristics of which were rare attributes for an elf. Aragorn could tell he had ridden fast and hard to come to Minas Tirith and he feared the reasoning behind such a journey.

"Is he here? Is he well?" the words flew from Angrod’s mouth so fast that Aragorn wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly.

"Slow down Angrod, I cannot help you if I cannot understand what you are saying."

"Legolas," Angrod took in a large, shaky breath and tried to slow his breathing down, "Please tell me that he is here and well."

Aragorn’s face turned pale and his breath hitched in his throat, it was just as he had feared. The counsel room went completely silent. Everyone trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Angrod, he is not here, he left to return to Ithilien some days ago. What has happened?" Aragorn spoke very slowly, trying to grasp the situation as he gathered information.

Now it was Angrod’s turn to pale, his eyes growing wide, searching Aragorn for truth. Hoping this was some kind of cruel joke.

"He never arrived in Ithilien," Angrod let out a quiet sigh and stepped forward taking a seat at the counsel table. "He was not there when I returned from my meeting with Faramir. We set out immediately, myself and three others, hoping to meet him on his journey home, ever fearful of his safety." Angrod paused, trying to convince himself that what was happening was factual, "Aragorn, we found Beleg, he was dead."

Aragorn felt as though he was going to fall, his legs could no longer support him. He took the chair opposite Angrod and dropped his head into his hands.

"I left Galendur and Harnen to care for Beleg and search for any signs of what may have happened. This is the arrow that struck Beleg down, but I do not recognize the make." Angrod stretched out his arm and placed the unusual arrow on the table.

Aragron pulled the arrow toward himself and studied it. He narrowed his eyes and ran his fingers through the fletching. "I know this style," his voice was flat and even, as though he were talking to himself. He ran his thumb over the unusually thick arrow head. "I recognize this make," he raised his head and looked Angrod directly in the eye, "It is of Harad, I have seen it before, many years ago."

Angrod immediately jumped to his feet, "Then I will go there at once, they will regret ever having attacked the Prince."

"Peace Angrod, think for a moment." Aragorn rose as well and walked around the table coming to stand directly in front of the panicked elf.. He reached out his hand and placed it on the other’s shoulder. "I know you worry for Legolas, we both do, but it would be unwise for a party of elves to travel into a land that, at this moment, is kidnaping elves. I will go."

Aragorn braced himself for what he knew would come next.

"My King, I must protest," it was Leandir and Aragorn knew that he would put up an argument about Aragorn leaving the city. "It would be no better for the King of Gondor to travel to Harad. You are well known throughout all of Middle Earth. Your love of the Eldar is also well known. Legolas would be dead before you set one foot into their land."

This was true and Aragorn knew it, but he couldn’t just sit back and let Legolas stay captive.

Angrod continued to hold his gaze with Aragorn and Aragorn could tell that the elf was thinking the same thing, "I agree with both of your assessments, but I will not just sit idly by while Valar knows what is happening to my friend."

They were at a crossroads, Aragorn knew something had to be done and done quickly. But it was true that if either of them attempted a rescue, Legolas, as well as themselves, would be killed. What to do then? Aragorn knew that if it came right down to it no one would be able to hold him nor Angrod back.

And then it hit him. It came right at him.

"You are right Leandir," Aragorn said still keeping his eyes on Angrod, "It would be folly for either Angrod or myself to travel to Harad. We would not make it ten paces inside their land before death would take us. But I think I know of one who can."

Chapter 7 - Taking Action

Being summoned by the King was the last thing that Alcandir expected today, he had not yet completed serving his full sentence of two weeks for the trouble he had caused. This place really wasn’t all that bad either, the food was decent and there were windows so that the "guests" could get fresh air and see the outside world, it was a lot better than the dungeons, or so he had heard.

Not that he wasn’t happy to be out. He didn’t like being cooped up, he wanted to be out doing his job and enjoying the freedom that came with his life and career choice. Being trapped was probably Alcandir’s one fear. He had faced down some of the most deadly of men. He had fought orcs and wargs. But the idea of being trapped without sunlight and access to the outside world was terrifying for him.

He really couldn’t blame King Elessar for making him spend some time in jail. The King was only doing what he thought was best and he supposed that he did go a little overboard apprehending this last fugitive. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if the criminal had just cooperated and done what he had so politely asked of him. But the man felt like he needed to protest Alcandir’s request by spitting on him.

The King of Gondor had requested that Alcandir spend the next two weeks thinking up a new method for accomplishing his work. The more he thought about it though, the more surprised Alcandir was that he had responded so nicely to the insult. However, if it meant retaining the King’s blessing to hunt in Gondor then Alcandir supposed that he could be a little more gentle with those he pursued.

The cell door clanged shut behind him and Alcandir looked to the guard wondering what had happened that would cause the King to allow him to leave his new home so early.

"Follow me," the guard requested.

Alcandir wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, he had never been on this end of the justice system and he felt somewhat like a fish out of water. "What, no manacles?"

"King Elessar did not think it necessary."

The bounty hunter was somewhat surprised at how much the King knew about him. He had only had the pleasure of meeting and speaking with his new liege on a couple of occasions, but he was loyal to the man and wouldn’t do anything to harm his King. As well, he really didn’t enjoy the hospitality that Gondor’s jail had to offer.

The jail sat across the courtyard from the Citadel and as Alcandir stepped out into the sunlight he inhaled a great breath and savored the fresh air. Walking across the courtyard, flanked on both sides by the Royal Guard, Alcandir couldn’t help but look up at the Tower of Ecthelion. It looked different from this angle and beautiful with the sun’s rays reflecting off of it.

They entered the Citadel and quickly walked down the long marble hallway. Alcandir was surprised when the guards lead him past the entrance to the great hall and stopped in front of a door further down the hall. Two heavy knocks were rapped on the door and a call from inside beckoned them to enter.

"My Lord, the prisoner, Alcandir, is here as requested." The guard bowed slightly and both guards moved off to stand on either side of the door.

"Come in Alcandir," Aragorn had risen from his chair and was standing at the head of a small table. He was in the company of several of his advisors and two elves, one with hair as dark as the midnight sky, the other with brown hair, not nearly as dark.

If it weren’t for the slight difference in hair color, Alcandir wasn’t sure he would even be able to tell them apart. Elves all looked the same to him. He hadn’t really had dealings with many of them and they all had the same haughty attitude, long hair and pointy ears.

"I do not suppose that I have been lucky enough to have my sentence repealed?" Alcandir asked with sarcasm.

Aragorn gave a little smirk, "Unfortunately no, but it has been modified slightly."

The elf with the jet black hair stepped forward eying the bounty hunter up and down, a look of discomfort and anxiety on his face, "My Lord, I still do not think that this is a good idea."

Aragorn turned his head to look at the elf and then looked back over to Alcandir, and he had an equally anxious look on his face.

"Alcandir, let me introduce you to Angrod," he said motioning to the elf. "He is Captain of the Elven Guard in Ithilien and very good friend to Lord Legolas."

Alcandir had heard of Legolas, he was the Elven Prince that had fought side by side with Aragorn during the War of the Ring. He was one of the few elves that was involved in the war and had built somewhat of a reputation for himself in doing so. However, Alcandir couldn’t say that he had ever met Lord Legolas, in fact, he hadn’t even seen the elf.

"I suppose, Alcandir, that you are wondering why I summoned you to meet with us." Aragorn stated, moving around the table and coming to stand next to Angrod.

"I must admit that you have piqued my curiosity."

"We have a job for you. An extremely important, highly confidential job." Aragorn looked once more to Angrod who shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

Now he really did have Alcandir’s curiosity piqued. Why would the King of Gondor, the same man who had just punished him for doing his job, now want to hire him? An important, confidential job. It sounded highly appealing and exciting.

Alcandir tilted his head slightly to the side and lifted his eyebrows, "You want to hire me?"

"Aye."

"What is this mysterious job? Did someone steal your horse?"

Alcandir saw Aragorn’s expression tense at this statement and he knew immediately that the job was for something much more valuable than a horse.

"Come, have a seat Alcandir," Aragorn motioned to the table and he and the elf, Angrod, moved to take seats opposite him. They both watched him closely as he took his own seat.

Aragorn leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. His face looked somewhat pale and the anxiety that Alcandir noticed earlier was still there, accompanied by something else, fear.

"Approximately one month ago, elves began disappearing from the forests surrounding Ithilien. Three elves as of roughly one week ago. Vanishing without any signs of what happened or where they have gone to."

Aragorn now leaned forward resting his arms on the table and looked closely at Alcandir. Angrod was sitting similarly, not moving his eyes off of the bounty hunter and the look in the elves eyes was unnerving. Alcandir felt as though the elf were looking into his very soul, that he could see things inside of him that Alcandir himself had forgotten.

Scanning from King to elf and back again, Alcandir asked, "What does this have to do with me?"

"This morning it was discovered that another elf was taken, but this time there was some evidence left behind." Aragorn slid the arrow across the table to Alcandir.

Alcandir picked the weapon up in his hand and twirled it around, looking closely at the fletching. He slid his fingers along the shaft and then grazed his thumb over the edge of the arrow head. "This arrow is of Harad make. Which region is harder to determine, however." He raised his head and looked into the King’s eyes, "You think the elves were taken to Harad?"

Aragorn and Angrod looked at each other, neither of them saying anything, but the elf made a small dip with his head as if encouraging Aragorn to continue.

"That is precisely what we think, and we want you do go and retrieve them." Aragorn held Alcandir’s gaze, almost daring him to deny his request.

"Why me? Why not have Lord Legolas take care of this matter, he is their liege and Prince. Surely he has the resources to retrieve his missing people."

Aragorn’s face dropped even more and his eyes seemed to cloud over slightly, "The fourth elf that was taken, was Lord Legolas. We are not exactly sure when he was taken, he left Minas Tirith several days ago. That arrow was found lodged in the neck of his horse midway between here and the Elven colony. For us to send more elves to bring him home would be foolish and if I were to go after him..."

"You would both be dead before you stepped ten paces inside their lands." Alcandir finished for him.

"Aye" said Aragorn

"Why should I do this, what is in it for me?" Alcandir wasn’t sure that he wanted to go to Harad again. The last time he had been there was not the most memorable of experiences and the land itself lacked something to be desired.

"Let us just say that if you decide against the job, you will be begging for work as stable boy. I will make sure you are never paid a bounty again. Here or in Rohan."

"Well, that is some incentive." Alcandir didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t be a bounty hunter. It was what he was born to do and he knew nothing else. "But, my Lord, I have never met Lord Legolas, I do not even know what he looks like. He could be in this very room right now and I would not know it."

"He is golden haired and very distinctive. Trust me when I say, you will know him when you see him."

"What of the other three elves?"

"If you can find them then bring them home." Although he was feeling extremely bound by his duty to Gondor, Aragorn was beginning to feel more comfortable about the arrangement. Alcandir was the very best at tracking people, almost as good as he was, and there was no doubt that he could do this. "I can send some men with you to assist in the search."

"That is much appreciated, my Lord, but I work better alone." Alcandir had not had a partner in his work in years. He found that most men were only interested in their own gain and could not be trusted. The last time he had worked with someone on a job the results had been near disastrous and he swore he would never do it again.

"I am sorry to have to ask this my Lord, but what if I do not find him alive?" Alcandir hated asking this, especially after he saw the reactions of the elf’s two friends sitting across the table from him. Both man and elf turned green and he could have sworn that he saw both sets of eyes tear up before they both dropped their eyes to the floor.

Alcandir could tell that this Elven Prince was dearly loved and he wondered what this elf had done to earn such love and devotion. What can one have done to be worth so much to so many? He was very interested in meeting one who had such an effect on the King.

Without raising his head Aragorn responded in barely above a whisper, "Bring him home."

Alcandir looked back and forth between the two once more, then with a large sigh he rose from the table. He had much to do before he set out for that Valar forsaken land. "I should be going if I wish to depart by tomorrow morning. I have much to prepare and a long journey ahead."

"Alcandir," Aragorn called to the retreating form, "by any means necessary."

Alcandir turned back to the King and Elf. He looked them both in the eye and nodded his head acknowledging that he understood the statement, he was being ordered to bring the elf home no matter the circumstances or risk to his own life. He could feel the eyes on his back as he exited the room, some in hope, some in distrust. No matter what they felt, Alcandir had sworn to do a job and he had never failed to bring in the one he hunted. He didn’t know how to fail.

Chapter 8 - The Encampment

Things were going smoother than Medero had thought they would. They were making good time, the men were behaving themselves and the elf had not woken again since the dose of his sedative had been increased.

He was riding atop his large black stallion, with the golden elf seated firmly in front of him. His men thought it extremely strange that Medero wanted the elf to ride with him. Kael seemed especially disturbed. The other elves had ridden with him and it made sense seeing how he was the company’s healer. But Medero wanted to keep a close watch on this elf, he felt that this one elf was of particular value. As well, he was more confident in his own skills and if the golden elf woke again he felt he would be more capable of handling him.

The elf had remained unconscious since they had departed the forest, appearing even more deathlike than before. The skirmish in the woods had greatly depleted what remaining strength and health the elf had. They had decided to bind him after his escape attempt and now, as Legolas sat limply, his head slumped to his chest, his wrists were bound tightly to the horse’s saddle.

His reopened leg wound had been stitched up and a healing poultice had been applied to prevent infection. His torn hands had been cleaned and bandaged and fortunately his head wound hadn’t been badly agitated during the escape and scuffle. New wounds now appeared on the elf’s wrists where the rope rubbed harshly against his skin. Tiny droplets of blood dripped down onto the clean white bandages covering his hands. If the elf looked like this once they reached Marek then Medero would be lucky if he received any pay for him at all.

They had crossed the Poros two days ago and were due to meet up with the rest of the company before nightfall. There they would wait for the new elf to awake and then switch their riding schedules to begin traveling at night. The days would start getting warmer the further into Harad they went and to travel during the day would be foolish not to mention uncomfortable.

They were a day ahead of schedule and he was glad to be coming onto his company unexpected. Medero had left the other men under the capable command of Yálek. He had known Yálek for several years and knew that he was a loyal and competent foreman, but Yálek had a tendency to get a little out of hand when it came to keeping his charges in line. To be able to come up on them unawares would present Medero with the unique situation of seeing the camp in a lax state.

Medero was a stern commander and the men knew better than to behave carelessly when under his leadership. But they tended to get a little rowdy and unmindful when he wasn’t around. Medero just hoped that he would be able to return to camp and find the other three elves still alive and well.

The land around him had slowly become more desolate and without the shade of the trees the sun seemed merciless. Medero was beginning to sweat and he reached down for his water skin. He took a large swallow of water and then poured a little on the back of his neck. He replaced the cap on the skin and let it fall back to his side.

Reaching his arm around, he placed his hand on the exposed part of the elf’s forehead, the bandage still covered some of his head and held his blonde hair away from his face. The elf felt cool to the touch and Medero couldn’t help but wonder at the strangeness of it. He then moved his hand to the elf’s neck just under his chin and felt for a pulse. It was there, steady and strong. The elf was just simply not affected by the heat.

"Kael!" Medero called over his shoulder. He could hear a horse behind him pick up speed and Kael appeared next to him an inquisitive expression on his face. "I find it odd that we are all suffering due to the heat and yet the elf seems not affected at all. Is it due to the sedative?"

Kael seemed to contemplate this for a moment, "I know not sir. I have heard that elves are magical creatures. Perhaps they are simply unaffected by the weather."

Medero seemed surprised at the notion of not being heated by the sun. He wondered if they were as impervious to the colds of the north as well. I will have to talk with these elves and learn all that I can of their race. They are truly interesting beings.

He let his mind mull this over for a while. It was no wonder that he was sent to retrieve elves, if they could work without succumbing to heat-illness then they could work longer days and be more productive than other slaves could be.

Medero was jerked back to his senses when one of his men informed him that they were approaching the camp. Medero narrowed his eyes and strained to see ahead of them. In the distance he could just make out the tops of several tents.

The small company urged their horses to quicken their pace and it wasn’t long before they found themselves entering the hunter’s camp. Men emerged from various concealed positions about the encampment as they rode into the outcrop of tents. There were about eighteen total men, including those that had just ridden in and they would all be well paid for their latest acquisition.

A tall, dark man approached Medero with a smile on his face, "It is good to see you sir, you have returned earlier than expected."

"It is good to be back Yálek. We were able to find this last elf quite quickly and have had few problems in our return journey. Here, help me down with this one." He gestured to Legolas who remained still in front of him and slowly began to untie the ropes from the horse’s saddle, careful not to allow the elf’s hands to become unbound. He then slid the golden elf off the horse into the waiting arms of Yálek.

"It is strange that you carry this one, did he give you much trouble sir?"

Medero slid off his horse and turned to stand facing Yálek who now had the unconscious elf slung over his shoulder. Yálek was a large man and rather strong and didn’t seem at all burdened by the weight of the elf as they stood and spoke.

"Aye, he managed to kill three of the men when we took him, but once we hit him with the dart he fell just as the others did. He also managed to escape once on the journey, but not for long before he was apprehended. Kael increased his dose then and has kept him heavily sedated for the remainder of our ride."

Medero scanned around the camp taking a mental inventory of the men and belongings. "How are the other three, have they faired well?"

"Aye sir, they are all fine. I have three guards on the male and two on each of the females. They are separated and have not been able to speak to each other. They are being fed and given water regularly and have caused no trouble that we could not handle."

"Hmm," Medero nodded. "Take care of this one and then come find me. I am going to go see for myself how things stand."

He left Yálek and Legolas and began to circle around the perimeter of the camp. He came across the red-haired, she-elf first. She looked well in appearance but he could tell that she was frightened. She was tied to a post, her arms tightly behind her back, rope binding her elbows and wrists. She also had a rope around her neck. A black blindfold covered her eyes.

"Good lady," Medero bent at the knees so that his face was even with hers, "how do you fair this day?"

Adaria tilted her head as much as she could with the rope holding her in place. She trembled slightly and Medero could tell that she was trying to hide her fear. "Is it really necessary for you to ask?"

Medero smiled, "Have my men mistreated you at all?"

Adaria didn’t answer. Rather, she clenched her jaw and Medero knew that if he could see her eyes he would have seen them roll in frustration. Not seeing any outward signs of abuse, he rose to his feet and made his way across camp to the next elf.

His face turned red and he clenched his fists when he saw the dark haired, male elf. The elf was bound the same way as the female but he had bruising on the exposed parts of his face and a hastily wrapped bandage around a cut along his left upper arm.

"YÁLEK!" the shout radiated around the camp and the elf jumped at the sudden outburst. Medero knelt in front of this elf as well. He looked the elf over more closely and could see old bruises as well as fresh ones. This elf had been captured at the same time as the other she-elf, the one with dark hair and blue eyes, and Medero suspected that the two were lovers.

Medero turned his head to shout again but found Yálek standing just behind him. He rose to his feet and stepped toward Yálek coming to stand with their faces mere inches from each other.

"What is the meaning of this?" Medero motioned to the elf with a slight jerk of his head.

"Sir, the elf was not obeying. He refused to eat and would not answer my questions." Yálek’s voice shook as he attempted to defend his actions.

Medero was seething, "These elves do not belong to you Yálek. They are not yours to reprimand. You were hired to do a job and to listen to the orders that I give you and when I tell you that the elves are not to be harmed then THEY ARE NOT TO BE HARMED!"

The rest of the men in the camp stopped what they were doing and stared at the two men. The elf next to their feet held completely still listening closely to the conversation taking place and Medero could hear the prisoner’s breathing increase.

Glancing down at the dark haired elf Medero began to wonder if he would make it to Marek with all of his precious cargo still intact. Raising his eyes back to his foreman he could see that Yálek was just as angry as he was.

"If you expect to get paid when we reach Marek, you will start obeying my orders. Is that clear?" There was no room for argument in the statement and all of the men in camp knew that the words were directed to them just as much as to Yálek.

Yálek dropped his eyes to the ground, "Yes sir."

"Good, now go find Kael and have him come look after this one." He commanded, pointing to the dark elf.

Medero turned on his heel and made his way toward the final elf. He found this one in much the same manner as the other she-elf and after a brief, one-sided conversation exited her tent and continued to the center of camp. His frustration and anger was evident on his face and it was obvious that the other men were doing everything in their power to stay out of his way.

It pleased him to have others fear him but only because it was easier to get people to do what you wished when they were afraid of you. It was a strange thing for the man. He wasn’t, by nature, a malign person, he just did what was necessary to survive and if that meant selling slaves then that was what he needed to do. At times he felt sympathy for his captives, tearing them away from their families and homes, but then he would remind himself that it was a business and that if he let his personal feelings effect him it would be his ruin.

They would be traveling for several more days before reaching Marek and Medero could not wait to have this job done and over with. He wanted to get these men paid and get them out of his hair so that he could enjoy some peace and quiet. He missed working on his own, but at least these men wouldn’t insist on hanging around once they arrived in Marek. They would take there money and scatter with the winds.

Right now, however, there was only one thing that Medero should be focusing on. He needed to ensure that his men were kept in control otherwise he wouldn’t have any merchandise to sell once they finally arrived.

Chapter 9 - Waking

It was the wind beating against the tent that finally roused Legolas from his long slumber. The canvas thrashed about, fighting the gusts, dirt and sand beating against it. The ropes and poles holding it in place strained against the pressure placed upon them. But it was the snapping of the thick material in such an unrhythmic way that eventually caught Legolas’ attention.

Waking up hadn’t been the most pleasurable experience. His thigh ached fiercely and the pain radiated down his leg, the throbbing at the wound site seemed to shake his entire body. His head as well was pounding and felt as though it weighed as much as an oliphaunt. His right arm was tingling as though he had slept on it for too long and that sensation also seemed to spread down his arm and into his fingers.

Worst of all, he woke to find himself bound tightly to a post. He was restrained by an odd type of rope around his wrists and elbows and third rope twisted securely about his neck. And, he was blindfolded. Stinging abrasions, where the rope had bit into his skin, marred his neck and a war raged between his heavy, spinning head and his battered flesh. His natural reflex to the pain in his neck was to pull away, the sudden motion causing his ailing head to pound and dizziness to ensue, which in turn resulted in the drop of his head and pull of the rope on his neck again. It was a brutal cycle and Legolas was forced to hold his leaden head as steady as possible.

As he became more coherent, memories began to flood his psyche. Legolas tried to piece together the fractured information. He understood that his situation was dire, that he had joined the others who had vanished from Ithilien. Legolas also knew that escape was not likely, he recalled some of what had happened last time he attempted to elude his captors. What the elf didn’t know was where he was, where he was going and for what purpose.

It was quiet, with the exception of the wind beating against the tent. Legolas had not spoken with anyone since waking. He could, occasionally, hear someone walking around outside the tent but had yet to see or speak with anyone.

He had worked on loosening his arms from the post, but had to give up once the binding started to cut into his wrists and arms and no progress had been made. He was unable to cause even a budge in the tight rope.

Moments ago he had started feeling nauseated. His head felt like it was spinning in circles, he had begun to shake and had broken into a cold sweat. His breathing had picked up and he tried, to no avail to slow it down. Taking large, deep breaths and slowly exhaling. He thought himself to be panicking, it was a sensation that he had never experienced before, but he remembered seeing men at Helm’s Deep, Pelennor Fields and the Black Gate suffer from similar symptoms as the battle drew near.

He was pulled from his memories by the sound of someone entering the tent. It was a man, Legolas could tell by the heaviness of the footsteps and the length of the breaths he took. He listened as the man walked around him. Legolas tilted his head as he listened, following the sound of the man’s steps and breathing. The man came to stand in front of him and there was a slight shuffling noise that Legolas interpreted as the man crouching down.

"Welcome back," the man’s voice sounded questioning, as though he wasn’t sure that Legolas was awake.

Legolas didn’t respond, he sucked in his breath and tried once again to slow his breathing rate down.

"I know you are able to speak. I have heard so."

Legolas continued to sit in silence, studying the tone in the man’s voice. He sounded curious and unsure, but there was also authority and self confidence in there as well.

"Fine, do not speak but you may find yourself craving the company eventually. My name is Medero and I am your host. I will try to make your journey as comfortable as possible considering the circumstances."

"And what are the circumstances?" Legolas had to ask, he had to know what was going on.

"Ah, so you do have a tongue," Medero smiled. "We travel South that is all I will tell you. How are you feeling?"

Legolas let out a small grunt at this, "How long have I been asleep?"

"It really makes no difference."

Legolas’ stomach dropped and he began to feel more nauseated. He had been under this mans control for Valar knew how long and he could only remember obscure bits and pieces. His head started to feel heavy again and he felt it sway as he fought to keep it upright.

"You should begin to feel the effects of the sedative wearing off and you will probably be quite uncomfortable for the day. We will not move out until night fall, I will send Kael in to aid you and look at that leg wound" Medero rose to his feet and made for the tent opening.

"What happened to my leg?" Legolas inquired. He could not remember sustaining an injury and if this man would provide answers then he felt no shame in asking.

"One of my men got overly ambitious, my apologies, you were not supposed to be injured." Medero paused for a moment and Legolas searched his memory for anything familiar. "I will get Kael. He will help."

Medero stepped out of the tent and Legolas was alone once again. The wind had died down somewhat and he was able to better hear the goings on outside of the tent. He could hear the quiet mumble of men talking to each other but couldn’t make out what they were saying. He heard a horse neigh off in the distance. It was what he couldn’t hear that began to scare him, he couldn’t hear the trees. He couldn’t hear birds. He couldn’t hear anything of nature at all. He felt lost and alone.

His head began to spin faster and his breathing increased again. He could hear and feel his heart thumping inside his chest. He had started shaking more violently and felt beads of sweat breaking out on his arms, neck and back. What was happening?

Relax, breath, relax.

The tent flap flew open again and Legolas heard another man enter. This man was lighter than Medero and moved more quickly and Legolas figured that this must be the man Kael, whom Medero had referred to. He didn’t waste anytime surveying the captive elf, he immediately knelt down on the ground and put a water skin to the Legolas’ mouth.

The water felt wonderful in the elf Prince’s mouth and he greedily drank in as much as he could before the skin was pulled away once again.

"I am going to give you an herb, it will not hurt you or make you sleep, it will just ease the nausea and trembling." the man’s voice was higher pitched than Medero’s and it was almost soothing to Legolas’ ears.

"What is happening to me?" Legolas’ voice was shaking and didn’t sound like his own.

"You have had large amounts of a sedative administered to you for many days and you have become accustomed to it, your body now desires it. I will help you fight the yearning and you should be well in perhaps a day." as he explained this he placed some crushed leaves into Legolas’ mouth.

The leaves had a metallic flavor to them and seemed, almost, to melt in his mouth.

Kael then cut the rope bound around Legolas’ neck, allowing his head to fall forward, his chin coming to rest on his chest and the healer brushed his long, golden hair aside and placed a cool cloth on the back of his neck.

"Sleep if you must, it will probably make this easier for the both of us. I will sit with you until we depart tonight and continue to administer aid. Hopefully you will be feeling more yourself soon."

Legolas marveled at this mans kindness and help, it didn’t make any sense to him. "Why are you helping me?"

Kael had now turned his focus to Legolas’ leg and had begun to spread a salve around the healing wound. "You must be in good health when we reach our destination, otherwise Medero will not get the highest payment possible for you."

So that was it. Medero was a slave runner and his current customer had an interest in elves.

"Where are the others? Are they well?" Legolas was still having difficulty raising his head to address the healer so he tilted his head slightly, awaiting the answer.

"The other elves? They are all fine, do not worry yourself over them. You have enough to occupy your mind at the moment."

Legolas was relieved when the man confirmed that the other elves were nearby. He hoped there were still just the four of them and no others had been taken in his absence.

Unable to fight against the tug of sleep any longer, Legolas slowly started to drift off to sleep. The shaking had begun to subside and the nausea was near gone. He needed to rest for now. When he woke and was feeling more himself he would begin to figure out a way to get himself and the others out of this mess.

Chapter 10 - Musings

Aragorn was wearing a path into the floor of his study. The rhythmic tapping of his boots on the marble floor echoed around him, but he was unaware of it. He had been pacing for the better part of the day his thoughts circling through his mind at a frenzied pace as he did so and yet, he was getting absolutely nowhere, either with his walking or his musings.

Legolas had left Minas Tirith over a fortnight ago and Aragorn felt like his hands were tied. Aragorn had then watched Alcandir ride out of sight several days later, his feelings of control vanishing with the departing bounty hunter.

It was a seldom occurrence for the King of Gondor to feel as though a situation had spiraled out of his control. He hated feeling helpless. He wanted to be moving. He wanted to know what was happening to his friend. He should have been the one to go after Legolas and bring him back.

He understood and generally agreed with his advisors. It would be a death sentence for Legolas, as well as himself, if he were to set foot inside Harad. If they didn’t know who they had in their possession right now, they definitely would the second they saw the King of Gondor and his entourage coming toward their city.

Yet, it was taking all of Aragorn’s self control to stay within the White City. There was a pull on his heart, urging him out of the safety of his realm. There was also a nagging whisper in the back of his mind pushing him to hurry. So why was it that he was fighting the urging and nagging?

Have I become so bound by duty to my people that it outweighs my duty to a friend?

It was this thought that ate at Aragorn the most. His duty and loyalty to Legolas. He knew that if it were him that had been taken that Legolas would have probably retrieved him by now. He wouldn’t have let the words of some haughty advisors discourage him from pursuing his friend. He wouldn’t have sent someone in his place to rescue the one time ranger.

Why do these thoughts plague my mind?

Aragorn knew that his friend understood the feeling of being tied down by royal duty. When the pair was younger and traveling Middle Earth together Legolas had always had the burden of obligation to his family and realm. It was this obligation that had probably kept the pair out of getting into more trouble than they had. It was also this duty that had caused so much strife between Legolas and his father, the result of which Aragorn had been witness to many times. Standing side by side with Angrod, as the King and Prince of Mirkwood argued over the latter’s wish for more freedom.

Holding Angrod back had proven to be just as difficult. Angrod and Legolas had been friends for ages, long before Aragorn had even been a twinkle in his parent’s eyes. Angrod had a fierce loyalty to his Prince and sitting on his hands was not something that he was accustomed to and Aragorn was certain that the dark elf was mimicking his actions in a room just down the hall.

Aragorn’s head began to ache as he continued to shove the nagging voice further into the back of his mind. His hands pained him from being clutched so tightly at his sides

Soon after Alcandir had departed, Aragorn had sent a rider to inform Faramir of the disappearance of their friend. He had a difficult time coming up with the words to explain what exactly had occurred, for he himself wasn’t even sure. How did one go about explaining all that had happened in a mere letter? It had take the King hours to come up with the appropriate words and even once he had completed the letter it still didn’t seem adequate.

Of course it didn’t take long for Faramir to show up inside the White City once he had received the message and it was no less than Aragorn had expected. The steward had dove right into work in an effort to relieve some of the pressure and stress that Aragorn was feeling and the King was grateful for the aid. From the day the two men had met Faramir had always been a loyal friend and steward to Aragorn and never was it more appreciated than at this moment.

It was not necessary to send word to Eomer, the King of Rohan was already en route to Minas Tirith. He had planned to escort some new horses to the White City and in the process have some time to visit with his friends and sister. The trip had been planned several months ago and Eomer was expected to arrive within the next few days.

This was not a conversation that Aragorn looked forward to. Eomer and Legolas had developed an unusual, amusing friendship. It was one formed by their combined goal during the war of the ring, but made strong due to the aggressive introduction that the two had shared. A standing joke that had started when Eomer had attempted to ease the tension that existed between the two once the ring had been destroyed.

Elf and King had been sitting across from one another, on either side of Aragorn, at the King’s coronation feast. No words had been exchanged between the two until, coincidentally they had both reached for a tray of fruit at the same moment. The two, strong willed individuals froze, hands extended, holding one another’s gaze. A small smirk formed on Eomer’s face and a comment slid between his lips.

Aragorn smiled slightly at the memory as he attempted to recall exactly what it was that the King of Rohan had said. Something akin to pleading Legolas not to raise his bow in defense of his choice of fruit.

An internal debate had raged over the decision to send word to Gimli, he knew that the dwarf would want to know and would be extremely angry if he found out something had happened to Legolas and he had been kept in the dark. But was it necessary to worry the dwarf with vague information? Aragorn continued to ponder this, he just didn’t know what was right in this situation.

Telling Arwen had been difficult as well. She had been stunned and saddened. Arwen had taken on somewhat of an older sister relationship with Legolas. She had been the focus of two older brothers’ protection and when Legolas had come along she felt it her responsibility to look after the younger elf.

His frustration over being confined in Minas Tirith increased daily. He wanted to scream and he often found himself doing just that at one of the house staff or advisors who happened to cross his path at the wrong time. The more he thought about the restraints that came with being King, the more angry he became. Aragorn found that he often walked with his fists clenched tightly at his side and his expression hard.

As Aragorn turned for another pass, he found that he couldn’t contain his frustration any longer. With a strained yell, he kicked out at a desk chair standing just to his right, sending bits of wood flying across the room. He stood, watching pieces of the shattered chair bounce off of the wall and clatter to the floor only to realize that he felt no better. It would take every piece of furniture in Gondor to appease his pent up anger and frustration and even then, Aragorn knew that he would still feel the failings that overwhelmed him.

The door to his study swung slowly open and Arwen stepped gracefully into the room, a tray of fruit and cheese balanced in her arms. She paused, looking at the broken pieces of wood spread across the floor and Aragorn could tell she was working out the discovery in her mind. But she didn’t say anything regarding the source of Aragorn’s released anger, instead she stepped over the broken pieces and inched her way closer to her husband.

"I thought you might be hungry my love," she smiled slightly at Aragorn and he couldn’t help but return the gesture, there was something about her smile that eased his mind.

"I thank you. Please sit with me. Your company would be most welcome." Aragorn gestured to a chair across from his desk, one that had so far escaped his temper, and the pair lowered themselves into the seats.

They sat in silence, the tray of food going untouched. Aragorn kept his eyes to the floor, not knowing what to say to his wife. He felt as though he had let so many people down. He should have insisted that Legolas take an escort back to Ithilien with him. He should have forced him, whether he wanted one or not.

"Do not blame yourself." Arwen’s sudden words startled Aragorn, somewhat for their breaking of the silence, but mostly because of the way she had precisely hit on his negative thoughts. "Legolas is a stubborn elf. He would have done what pleased him in the end."

Aragorn released a quite sigh the raised his eyes to look into her’s "I feel stuck, I should be doing more to bring him home." She looked sad, yet understanding and compassionate at the same time. There was so much turmoil going on inside of her and he hated to see her in such a state.

"You are doing all that you can. I have no doubt that you will do everything in your power to bring him home to us."

Aragorn let out a another sigh, this time somewhat louder and hung his head once again. He wasn’t sure how much he could do. He would walk into Harad on his own two feet if it would help, but he knew that it wouldn’t. It was disconcerting to know that it would actually hinder and endanger Legolas’ life if he were to personally get involved.

For now, Aragorn would have to continue to suppress his urging and pace the floor, waiting for word from Alcandir. He just hoped that it would come sooner rather than later. There was a storm brewing inside of the King and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to hold it back.

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This job was headed for failure before he had even gotten word of it and Alcandir knew it. Those taken into Harad were never seen again, not even by the likes of him and he was a very good bounty hunter.

He had been tracking the men responsible for the disappearance of the King’s elf friend for many leagues now, stopping first at the sight of the ambush. The forest was eerily quiet and unnerving. No birds sang in the bows overhead nor did the squirrels scurry about the forest floor . Alcandir wanted to leave this area quickly. Even his horse seemed agitated in the clearing, unable to hold still as he had perused the ground

Alcandir could tell that Legolas had put up a good fight and had eventually lost. He could tell that Legolas had even managed to kill a couple of his attackers, but it did him no good. He suspected the reason for the loss. He knew many of the methods and tools used by the Haradrim and if the elf had been tagged then the final result was inevitable and Legolas had no chance, even before the fight had begun.

It didn’t really matter what type of trail or clue might have been left behind, Alcandir knew where he was headed and he was not looking forward to going to the desert land. He couldn’t understand how anyone could live in such a place. A land so hot and barren, it held no hope and the sooner he got in and out of there the better.

He had been to Harad on a couple of occasions while in search of wanted men, neither time had gone the way he had planned. He had come very close to failing at the job on both occasions, the only two times he had ever come close to failing.

Alcandir had already taken to traveling at night. As a matter of fact, he traveled both day and night to begin with. He had vainly hoped that he might catch up with the abducted elf and his captors before entering Harad, therefore saving himself the misery of traveling into that forsaken land. He would take short breaks to water and rest his horse and then they would resume their journey. Soon, however, he would have to start traveling strictly by night as the heat would become too intense for day travel.

He groaned at the idea of the hot weather and toyed with the idea of abandoning this job altogether. He could just head north instead and pretend that he had never heard of Legolas or his plight with the Haradrim. Return home and see old friends. It was just a couple of elves after all, they were all leaving Middle Earth anyway, even if he returned Legolas to his friends they would all be parted again soon.

Perhaps he would be saving them all needless suffering. They would mourn the loss of their friend for a couple of days, maybe a week and then their lives would return to normal. If he were to be lucky enough to retrieve the elf then not only would King Elessar and his friends suffer from the worry they were experiencing at the moment, but they would be subjected to sorrow once again when Legolas went over sea.

A debate was waged inside of his head and he kept toying with the idea of turning back, subconsciously slowing his horse as he weighed his options

Damn me for being a man of my word.

Alcandir could not, in good conscience, leave the elf to this fate. He knew what awaited the elf in Harad and it didn’t bode well. In addition, he had promised the King that he would bring Legolas home, regardless. So, he would travel to that awful land and he would do everything in his power to return the Elf Prince to Minas Tirith.

Alcandir was already gaining on them. He could feel it. All he needed to do was keep riding south and head for the first city inside their lands. People would talk. People always talked. They were proud of the jobs they did and if someone had captured an elf they would be over the top with pride and eager to share their amazing story.

Alcandir would find Legolas, he was determined now. Both his and the elf’s future absolutely depended on it.

Chapter 11 - Unfortunate Discoveries

"Wake up elf, it is time to go and you are riding with me today."

It was just the voice that Legolas did not want to wake up to, deep and raspy as though constantly dry. Legolas had only had the pleasure of meeting this man a day ago and had been lucky enough to not have him assigned as his escort for the first night. Yalék had proven to be quite a difficult and bothersome person, the man had made it a point to taunt and antagonize him as often as possible.

Although he had never seen Yalek’s face, he had grown to know him by sound and scent. The man walked very heavily and breathed quite loudly and although all of the men smelt of sweat, Yalek was exceptionally potent.

Kael, on the other hand, was quite the opposite of Yalek and very easy to pick out among the other men. The first night of travel had been miserable for Legolas and he had ridden with the healer so that any assistance he might need would be readily available. He had still been fighting the dependancy of the sedative and the constant movement of the horse was not helping his headache or nausea. But with Kael’s aid, the shaking had subsided and he was no longer experiencing the cold sweating that had plagued his body for the first several hours.

It was frustrating for Legolas to have to depend on anyone for assistance, especially his captors, but he knew that he wouldn’t get far in the state he was in. He was thankful when they had stopped for the day. He needed to rest and feeling solid ground beneath his feet had helped the dizzying sensation he was experiencing.

His eyes had remained wrapped tightly for the entire trip, the darkness working in conjunction with the loss of the earth’s song to break his spirit. Legolas longed to feel something of nature. He knew that Harad was known for its lack of vegetation, but he didn’t know that it would have such an impact on him. He felt disjointed and not himself without the trees and stars to comfort him. He felt as though the Valar had abandoned him in this forsaken land.

He hadn’t been able to see any of the other kidnaped elves either, their relative plight a constant weight on his mind. He worried constantly about their well being and safety and being unable to see them only intensified his concern. At times he thought that he could sense them near by and had attempted to speak with them, but he was quickly quieted and forcefully moved away.

When he had heard Yalék enter the tent that morning he let out a soft groan and prepared himself for what he knew was to come. He was quite shocked, however, when the man had announced that he would be riding with Legolas. He had heard Yalek reprimanded on several occasions for his rough behavior and mocking words and being ordered to ride with the offensive man was the last thing he had expected.

"Come on, I said get up." Yalék had cut Legolas’ bonds and was pulling him to his feet. "I would suggest you behave yourself elf, you killed my companions and I would love nothing more than a reason to avenge their deaths."

Legolas bit his tongue. He knew that anything he said to this man would be unwelcome and he would pay for any comment made. Yalék rebound Legolas’ hands tightly in front of him and readjusted the blindfold ensuring that it was tight and then shoved the bound elf out of the tent.

His inability to see proved a hindrance once again as Legolas caught his foot on the post holding the front of the tent and stumbled, falling and landing roughly on his side. Before he could move to pick himself up off the ground, a pair of hands grabbed the back of his tunic and hoisted him up. "I thought you elves were supposed to be quick on your feet." Yalék sneered in his ear.

"I was quick enough to take out three of your company." Legolas responded, his head held high.

If he could have seen the expression on Yalék’s face, Legolas probably would have been prepared for what came next. As it was, the fist connecting with his jaw caught him completely off guard and Legolas found himself on the ground once more.

He rolled over, pushed himself to his knees and turned in the direction that Yalék, now in the company of some of the other men, was now standing. "Striking one who is bound and blindfolded, you are truly a great warrior Yalék."

This time his comment earned him a poorly aimed kick directed at his midsection, but connecting sharply with his arms that were bound in front of him. Legolas hissed softly at the assault but managed to maintain his semi-upright position from where he knelt on the ground.

"You would do well to watch your tongue elf. You have a long ride ahead of you." Yalék was truly angry now and he grabbed Legolas once again by the back of his tunic and hoisted him to his feet.

Legolas, for once, was in agreement with Yalék now. He had always had a hard time keeping his mouth closed when it came to these situations. Many was the time that Aragorn had scolded him for thinking that he had to have the last word and not just when the two friends had been arguing amongst themselves.

Legolas stood now, with his feet firmly planted, in front of Yalék. He could feel blood trickling down his chin from the corner of his mouth and could hear other men approaching. He felt no fear for this man and he was aware that Yalek knew it, the knowledge of this gave Legolas a slight sense of victory over the man, the only edge he really held at the moment.

"Yalék!" Legolas recognized this voice as belonging to Medero, "How many times do I have to tell you? Leave the elves alone."

Legolas could hear Yalek shuffling about as he attempted to hide his guilt. "He deserved it sir. He was mocking me and bragging about murdering..."

"I do not care Yalék," Medero interrupted. "I will not get paid if he is injured, which means you will not get paid." Medero reached out and grabbed Legolas’ arm and pulled him away from Yalék. "This elf will be riding with me. Finish packing up. We leave shortly."

Legolas let out a sigh of relief as he was lead away by Medero. It would make the day easier without Yalék continuously harassing him.

"You are very brave elf. Yalék has killed men for smaller offenses." Medero commented as he pushed Legolas against a horse. He checked Legolas’ bindings once more and then climbed up onto the horse and pulled the elf prince up in front of him. Another rope was bound around the elf’s wrists, tying him to the saddle, it was an awkward position and the motion of the horse caused the ropes to bite harshly into his skin, but it was a position that allowed Legolas no option for escape.

Sounds of preparation circled around him and Legolas listened for any sounds from the other elves. Horses neighed and their hoofs beat into the sand as they were packed and mounted. Men spoke loudly to one another, giving orders and reports as they moved about. He could feel Medero shifting behind him as he ordered his men about in preparation for the days travel, yet no mention of the others was made and Legolas’ ever present worry began to grow.

"Where are the other elves?" He asked and he tilted his head to listen even closer to his surroundings.

"Do not worry for them, they are close and none of them will be riding with Yalék." Medero responded. "You will see them soon. We will be arriving at our destination shortly after the moon reaches its highest point." Medero nudged the horse with his heel and they started off at a canter.

"MOVE OUT!" He shouted as he wrapped his arm tightly around Legolas to steady him. "You are still feeling somewhat dizzy." It wasn’t a question, Medero knew the effects of the sedative and the length of time it took to completely rid the system of the drug.

Legolas didn’t answer. He didn’t want this man to know that he still wasn’t feeling right. He didn’t want to expose any weaknesses to any of these men. He just wanted to figure out how to get free and take the other elves with him and he was running out of time.

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That night’s journey hadn’t taken as long as Medero had anticipated. They had been traveling for just more than three hours when he had noticed the approaching city looming in the distance. "It looks like we have made better time than I thought. We will be in Marek within the hour."

Legolas hadn’t spoken to Medero, despite his attempts at conversation, since departing the camp and he hadn’t expected any response from him now. He had been questioning the elf on his customs and habits. He had hoped to learn something of these people before the sale was made, yet the elf was proving to be extremely stubborn and strong willed.

As they were motioned through the large gates by guards standing watch, Medero could see that the city was bustling with activity. It made sense that the inhabitants would be most active at night, the heat of the day made it an uncomfortable time to be conducting business. He could hear people voicing their amazement and curiosity at the passing troupe. These people had obviously never seen an elf before and expressed the same awe that he and his men had at their first sight of the fair beings.

He felt Legolas tense in front of him and noticed that he had tilted his head slightly in an attempt to better hear what was going on around him. Medero reached up behind him and grabbed a hold of the blindfold, pulling it down off of Legolas’ eyes. "I suppose that this will no longer be necessary." The elf still said nothing as he adjusted his eyes and turned to take in his environment and Medero was growing frustrated with the silence.

Trying to calm himself, he turned his focus back to the city. There were buildings lining the street, all varying in height and length but all the same pasty white. People were leaning out of windows watching the men pass underneath and it seemed as though the whole city had come to a stand still as the unusual company wove its way through the streets.

The horse came to a stop at the foot of another large wooden gate and a guard stepped forward. He looked up at the two, his eyes lingering on the elf for a moment. Medero laughed to himself as the guard shrank under the gaze of the elf, Marek was definitely getting more than it had bargained for with this newest addition to it’s city.

"Kalen has received word that you have arrived and has bid you enter." The guard stated, his focus now falling on Medero.

A loud bang echoed through the city followed by creaking as the large gates swung open allowing the company to enter. White stone lined the ground of the courtyard as they entered. A large stone wall encompassed the grounds and stretched out to the south disappearing into the darkness. They rode forward, the horses hoof’s echoing on the stone, until they came to the base of a large staircase that rose several feet into a large, white stone entry way.

Medero dismounted and pulled Legolas down off of the horse. He turned and motioned for the other elves to be brought forward and watched, interested as Legolas sought them out in the crowd of men.

The expressions on the other elves faces were ones of shock when they saw the blonde elf. Medero noticed that the golden elf gave each them a quick glance and a reassuring smile that told them to remain calm. He thought it strange that these elves had looked to this one for guidance as soon as they saw him and he began to wonder if there was even more to this elf than he had already suspected.

Medero lead the four up the long stairs keeping a firm grip on Legolas’ arm the entire way. Just as they were about to enter the palace they were greeted by a rather large man, surrounded by several guards, that Medero quickly recognized as Lord Kalen. Kalen was dressed in a brightly colored rob and wore several rings on each hand. His head was covered in the same fashion as the other men, except that his wrap was of a brilliant red with a white gem stone in the center of his brow.

Releasing the elf’s arm, Medero snapped his fingers and moved forward to greet the Lord of Marek. At the sound of his snap his men moved about lining the elves up in a row readying them for presentation.

"Medero," Kalen said as he stepped forward and embraced the slave runner, "You have arrived sooner than anticipated. Let me see what you have brought. I have received word that you wish to renegotiate our price. I assume there is good reason."

Medero returned the embrace and stepped back with a large smile on his face. "There is good reason, indeed. Come look, I think you will agree."

Medero turned and motioned toward the four bound elves. He had them lined up with Legolas at the far end and lead Kalen to the first elf, leaving the golden elf for last.

They stopped directly in front of Nienna, she looked frightened but she was trying to cover her fear by looking directly at the two before her. Her brown hair lay loosely over her shoulders and her blue eyes were so bright they almost lit up the entryway.

"She is very beautiful. I am sure that I can think of some extra tasks for this one." Kalen said with a smirk on his face.

Medero noticed that the elf standing next to Nienna had clenched his jaw at Kalen’s comment and this action had confirmed his belief that the two were lovers. They moved to him next and Kalen circled around the elf and looked the dark elf up and down. "It looks as though some of your men have been taking sport in my property."

Medero hated Kalen’s arrogance, he could still refuse to sale him these elves if he so desired. "They are not your property yet, my lord, and I have admonished my men for their actions." He glanced very quickly down to Legolas, a look of anticipation on his face. The golden elf still sported a large cut on his right temple and looked disheveled due to his torn leggings and bandaged leg. He hoped that his appearance wouldn’t impede the negotiation for more money.

Kalen grunted at the slave runner’s words then moved to Adaria and a smile spread over his face, "Well then, what is your name?" He asked her coming to stand very close behind her and leaning his head over her shoulder.

Adaria lifted her chin and firmly answered, not a hint of fear shown in her green eyes. Medero tried to hide the look of amusement at her courage and defiance. Yes, Kalen and Marek have definitely gotten more than they bargained for.

"I am much pleased Medero. You have done well." Kalen’s voice stuck in his throat as he came to stand in front of Legolas. The expression on the man’s face was one of complete shock. Legolas stared him in the eyes, pride shining within.

Kalen’s mouth dropped open as he slowly strode around the elf prince. "Well, well, well." He said coming to stand once again in front of Legolas. He reached his hand out and grabbed Legolas by the chin, turning the elf’s face from side to side. "Imagine seeing the likes of you here."

Medero’s head shot back to Kalen at these words and he could see a look of complete pleasure in the large man’s eyes.

"Medero, I think you have earned that extra pay." Kalen turned his body toward Medero, who stood just to his right, but kept his eyes firmly planted on Legolas.

Medero’s confusion was indisputable now, what was Kalen talking about? He twisted his head and raised his eyebrows, his eyes also scrutinizing Legolas.

A smile slowly spread over Kalen’s face as he once again addressed Legolas, "How on earth did you manage to get yourself captured?"

Medero swore he could hear Legolas’ heart pounding from where he stood and he could see everyone’s eyes on the golden elf now. The other elves were looking with fear, the rest of the men with curiosity.

Who is this elf?

"Medero," Kalen was looking at Medero now, a smug expression taking over his face. "Do you know whom you have brought me?"

Medero didn’t answer, he had no idea who the elf was.

"You have brought me Legolas, Son of Thraduil, Elf Prince and Lord of Ithilien."

Chapter 12 - Deepening Fears

Legolas could have sworn that his heart stopped at that moment. He was definitely holding his breath, trying with all of his might to not show the shock and fear that he was feeling. How did this man know who he was?

"Do not look so shocked your highness, I would be a foolish leader, would I not, if I did not learn everything about the lands surrounding mine?" Kalen said enthusiastically. "I suppose that we should be expecting a company of men from Gondor to retrieve you. Hmm, I will have to prepare a warm welcome for them."

Legolas’ eyes did not leave the Lord of Marek. Kalen was far too pleased with his most recent acquisition and that did little to settle Legolas’ nerves. It had always been a rather likely assumption that there were spies from Harad living in Gondor, Rohan and Ithilien. Many meetings were held consisting of Aragorn, Faramir, Eomer and himself regarding the likelihood of such a thing. Legolas always knew that they were present, Gondor, itself, had sent their own spies into Harad to gather information, but to have such an open admittance of these suspected beliefs was unnerving.

Kalen was pacing up and down the line of the four elves looking each of them over as he spoke, a smug little smile on his face. "Nolir" Kalen paused in his inspections long enough to call to the Captain of his guard. A tall, dark haired, muscular man with narrow eyes stepped forward and bowed to Kalen. "Show Medero to the door and give him twice the prearranged price. Then double the guards on the walls, we may have visitors coming from the North. When you have finished return and help me with our new guests."

Nolir gave a quick nod of his head to Kalen and turned in Medero’s direction. Medero hadn’t taken his eyes off of Legolas and the prince noticed that he now carried himself somewhat differently. It seemed, to Legolas, that Medero walked a little bit taller, as though a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He seemed proud of the job he had just completed and wore a pleased smile on his face. As Medero quickly walked out of sight, Legolas saw him cast one more glance over his shoulder at the four captive elves.

"Well your highness," Legolas’ attention was quickly brought back to the large man in front of him, "I think that someone of your stature would best be served working as my personal servant, would you not agree?"

Legolas lifted his chin and looked down his nose at the man. He would not humor this man with his words. He held his tongue and steeled his gaze against his captor. He knew that the only power he held in this current situation was the power over his own words and actions and he would do everything in his capacity to retain that power.

Kalen began to laugh, he tossed his head back and let out a great guffaw which bounced amongst the tall pillars strewn about the entryway. Legolas could feel his anger intensify and he clenched his fists before him causing the ropes to bite even further into his wrists. He wished for his hands to be free, at that moment, for if they were, he would have reached right out and wrapped them around this man’s thick neck and squeezed with everything he had in him. This haughty, poor excuse for a man, was the reason that the four of them had been ripped away from their families and friends and Legolas fumed because of his arrogance.

Kalen’s laughter stopped abruptly and he wiped tears from his eyes as took a deep breath. "I must admit that I had not planned on getting a new personal servant today, but the appeal is just too great." He paused for a moment forcing the smile from his face and replacing it with a much more sinister expression, "It is your duty to keep your people safe, is it not?"

Legolas could feel hot breath brush his cheek as Kalen spoke and was repulsed at the closeness of this man, but he would not allow the Lord of Marek to gain ground by stepping away. Staring directly into the large man’s eyes, Legolas could feel an anger he had never experienced before blazing within him. His palms burned as he dug the nails of his fingers into them in frustration. The muscles in his neck tightened in anger. Had he not felt it would give Kalen satisfaction, Legolas would have screamed his fury.

Caught up in his own displeasure, Legolas was caught off guard when the back of Kalen’s hand connected with his right cheek. His head was snapped to the side and a long crimson cut appeared as a result of one of the large man’s many rings.

A soft movement to his right forced Legolas to recover quickly and sent a sharp glare in Lómëdil’s direction when he noticed the other elf step forward to come to his Lord’s aid. The two exchanged brief glances in which Legolas conveyed his desire to not have anyone come to harm because of him. Kalen was right, it was his duty as a Prince and as Lord of Ithilien to keep his people safe and it was a duty that Legolas had taken very seriously his entire life.

"I asked you a question elf." Kalen was still standing far too close for Legolas’ comfort and he could make out the smell of smoke on the man.

Hesitating once again, Legolas swallowed hard and forced himself to answer. "Yes." That one word was thick with disdain, and the venom it held caused several of the men around the entryway to shift on their feet.

"Well then, let us make a little bargain shall we?" Kalen stepped back slightly as he spoke and looked to the other elves lined up beside Legolas. "You behave yourself and do as I tell you and your subjects here will be just fine. But, you put one foot out of line and the penalty will be swift and harsh. Is that understood?" It wasn’t a question, there was no room for negotiation, Legolas knew that these three, who had come to Ithilien to help with the work that he had begun, would suffer for his actions.

They were suffering now because they had come to Ithilien in the first place. If they had just taken the ships to the Undying Lands, they wouldn’t be here with him now, in this horrible place. For them to be punished for Legolas’ actions was far more than the elf prince could bear.

Once again Legolas’ lack of response resulted in a sharp backhand. Kalen’s ring connected once again with the elf’s cheek, opening the cut deeper. Blood was now trickling down his face and dripping onto his tunic.

"Your bargain is understood." Legolas hissed at the large man. The smug smile returned to Kalen’s face and Legolas could see the other three elves shifting uncomfortably.

Legolas lifted his eyes and looked to the small patch sky that could be seen between the pillars. The visible stars shone extraordinarily bright and their presence comforted him. The other three elves, who had been watching their liege closely, followed his gaze to the stars and the four of them had a moment of peace, gaining strength from one another’s presence and beauty of the night sky. This small speck of nature warmed the coldness that had been growing within each of them, albeit slightly, and they clung to the radiance as though is were a lifeline.

Their respite was cut short with the reappearance of Nolir. Kalen’s Captain was not a pleasant looking man and he watched the elves with contempt. There was a hatred in the captain’s eyes that Legolas could see was fueled by fear and ignorance. The two were a deadly combination in a man with Nolir’s authority.

"Ah, Nolir, we have had a slight change of plans for one of our elves." Kalen glanced from Nolir to Legolas as he spoke. "The Prince here has agreed to be my personal servant."

He lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked the blood off of his rings and he surveyed the elves. "You may do with the others as we discussed."

Nolir stepped forward, grabbing Nienna roughly by the arm, startling the elf-maiden with the harsh treatment. Reflexively, she jerked her arm out of the captain’s grip and moved closer to Lómëdil, searching for protection from her beloved. The abrupt movement of Nienna’s arm threw Nolir slightly off balance and with a growl he swung around and grasped a handful of her thick, brown hair, yanking her toward him then throwing her to the ground.

With a cry of anger, Lómëdil dove at the man attacking his love, his shoulder connecting with Nolir’s stomach, knocking the man back several feet with a grunt. Lómëdil scurried to Nienna’s side, falling to his knees next to her. Whispered words of comfort were passed between the two as Lómëdil attempted to help Nienna to her feet.

Legolas watched in horror as Nolir collected himself up and strode toward the couple. With a ring that seemed to scream at the elf prince to move, the captain pulled his sword from its scabbard and raised it above the unsuspecting elves heads. Before he could even contemplate the repercussions of his actions, Legolas dove for the Marek Captain, his shoulder slamming into the man’s side in much the same way that Lómëdil’s had.

Nolir was knocked, forcibly to the ground, barely catching himself on his hands. His sword flew from his grasp, skidding across the stone ground and coming to a halt just out of reach to the captain. Nolir let out another growl, this one much louder than the first, and jumped to his feet once more. He spun around to find the four elves standing in a circle with their backs to one another.

Legolas wasn’t sure what they were doing, he wondered if all rational thought had fled the foursome. All four were still bound tightly at the wrist and they were vastly outnumbered. He could see Kalen standing just beyond a group of guards watching with interest and curious expression painted the large man’s face. Dozens of guards moved quickly to surround the four and Nolir stepped to the front of the group, directly in front of Legolas, his eyes burning with anger.

"What do you think is going to happen here elf?" Nolir sneered. "Surely you do not believe that the four of you, bound and unarmed as you are, can kill an army of men and make it out of this city. You would be better off just giving up now and cooperating with my men."

Legolas narrowed his eyes and looked skeptically at the captain, "Either way we will not end this night unscathed. We would do better to die fighting then to submit ourselves to your mercy." Captain and elf stared hostilely at one another while the group of guards inched their way closer.

"Come Legolas," Kalen was shouting from outside the circle. "My men can take you unharmed quite easily. I cannot make the same promise for your three companions. If you do not stop this irrational behavior, I will order my archers to shoot them forthwith."

Legolas scanned around the group surrounding them. Mixed in amongst the guards were several men with bows, their weapons trained directly at the elves. His mind spun trying to think of the best way out. He scanned the entryway about him looking for an exit. His heart was pounding as adrenaline surged through him. His options were limited and as he played the scenarios for escape out in his mind he was disconcerted by the outcome of each. There was no escape.

As this dispiriting realization hit him the guards rushed the four helpless elves. Legolas did his best to fight with his limited abilities and he could hear the other elves doing the same near by. He struck out with his bound hands, his fists connecting with jaws, stomachs and temples. The cries of the guards mixed with those of the three elves and one by one Legolas could hear the other captives falling around him.

A cry of pain from one of the elf-maidens caused Legolas to flinch. He looked toward the source and his brief loss of focus gave the guards the advantage they needed. Legolas was quickly overpowered and pushed to the ground, face first. He could see the other three elves being subdued in much the same way and he cursed under his breath for what would befall them for his rash actions.

His eyes connected with those of Adaria and his stomach lurched at the tears that he saw shining within. Legolas watched as the auburn haired maiden looked to him in despair. She closed he eyes tightly against the press of the restraining hands upon her as the laughs of the guards echoed in his ears.

The rough sole of a booted foot came to rest on the back of his neck and began to push down slowly, cutting off his oxygen. Legolas could not fight against the confining hold, the number of guards upon him was too great and his head began to swim at the lack of air.

"It would be so easy your highness." Kalen was talking through clenched teeth, a mixture of power and anger evident in his voice. "All I have to do is shift my weight, ever so slightly, and it would all be over for you. But then, I would not get my moneys worth from you, now would I?"

Legolas struggled against the men, trying to get air as Kalen continued to taunt him. "Take the others, get them out of my sight. Fifty lashings to the male for his Prince’s insubordination."

There was the sound of scuffling and soft grunting as the other three elves were yanked up and removed forcibly from the courtyard.

The edges of Legolas’ vision began to cloud as his struggle for breath intensified. Kalen leaned into his step a little more. "You should take into consideration the power I hold over you little elf. You belong to me now and you will serve me or you, and your companions, will die. Either way you will never see your home again so you may as well give up that petty, little dream. I can make it so much easier for you. All you have to do is cooperate."

Kalen lifted his foot off of Legolas’ neck and the elf took in a huge, gasping breath. The air burned his throat and his vision swam as oxygen rushed into his lungs. He was pushed over onto his back by the assaulting foot and looked up just in time to see the hilt of a sword coming toward him.

"Welcome to Marek," Kalen sneered. The sword connected sharply with Legolas’ temple, reopening the barely healed wound received during his abduction, and darkness immediately enveloped his consciousness.

Chapter 13 - Vain Hopes

Alcandir whistled as he packed up his things and prepared to continue his journey further into Harad. He didn’t realize he was whistling until his horse whinnied loudly in response to an especially shrill note. Even once he became aware of his music making he couldn’t recall the tune he had been producing. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to take notice.

Soon after crossing into the desert land, Alcandir’s journey had turned sour. His horse, Mithril, named thusly for his silver coloring, had been startled by the sudden appearance of a large snake, throwing the bounty hunter from his seat in an attempt to flee the vicinity. While in flight, the animal then attempted to leap a fallen, dead tree, which had obviously been dragged into the desert by someone in an attempt to build a shelter of sorts. Mithril then caught his hind leg on the dead tree, tearing a large gash in the horses strong limb.

Alcandir had needed to walk along side his horse for the next two nights in order to alleviate any extra strain on the animal. If it hadn’t been for the absolute absurdity of the entire situation, the man probably would have screamed in frustration. Yet, as the bounty hunter had stood, looking at the unusual array of items that had just hindered his journey, he began to laugh.

Even now, as he tried to recall the song he had been trilling, a smile spread over his face at the stories this job would create and the hours of entertainment his friends would get from his tales.

That is if I survive this quest.

As he loaded the last of the items onto Mithril’s back, Alcandir paused once again to massage his own bruised backside. The fall had not been easy on him either and the subsequent walk had not helped, he was glad that he would be riding once again.

"Well Mithril, shall we continue further into this forsaken land? The welcome has not been warm thus far." Alcandir was answered with silence and letting out a rather large sigh, swung himself onto the horses back.

Two days. Two days until we actually reach a town and we can begin the real work.

With these thoughts running through his mind, Alcandir nudged the horse into motion and set out into the darkening desert.

I just hope the Prince’s welcome has been better than ours.

*******

Waking hadn’t been quite as difficult this time. Granted, Legolas did wake to find himself in a small, dark room with no windows. Calling it a room was generous, the ceiling was approximately four feet from the ground and the walls about five feet in length. It was more a cage than a room and the cage was stifling. There was no air circulating through and the heat from the desert outside penetrated the walls and made the air difficult to breathe.

When Legolas first woke, he actually wondered if he had opened his eyes, so dark was the room. He was laying curled up, his head pressed into the corner so that he could fit into the tiny cell, and his head hurt. As a matter of fact, Legolas was beginning to wonder when the last time was that his head didn’t hurt.

Legolas slowly pushed himself into a sitting position and reached his hand up probing his head for the source of his pain. He could feel a jagged cut about two inches long on his right temple. Blood had dried around the cut and to the side of his face where it had made its trail down off of his chin.

He then ran his hand over the rest of his face searching for other possible injuries. On his right cheek he found the cut caused by Kalen’s many rings. Blood had dried around this cut as well and Legolas let out a soft groan as he realized what a sight he must be.

If only Aragorn could see me now, I would never hear the end of it

Legolas actually wished that Aragorn could see him, he would gladly put up with years of ribbing in exchange for this cage. He hoped that Kalen was right in his assumption that an army from Gondor was on its way for him, but deep down he knew that the King wouldn’t come. There was no way that Aragorn would risk a war with Harad because of four elves. Moreover, Aragorn was smart enough to realize that Kalen would kill his captives the moment he saw the army coming.

Legolas had resolved himself that help would not be coming and if he were to get out of here he would have to rely on himself. If only he could have a moment to figure things out. This was the first time that Legolas had been alone since being taken and he wasn’t in the easiest place to escape from.

He began to feel around the tiny room to get a better understanding of where he was being held. The floor was made of compacted dirt, the walls of a thick wood that Legolas didn’t recognize. There was a door which encompassed nearly half of one of the walls but it was sealed tight and there was no way to open it from the inside. He couldn’t feel any hinges or knobs, just crevices that indicated that it was the way out.

It must have been day outside because the room was hot. The heat was so intense that it was even affecting Legolas. He felt a drop of sweat roll down the back of his neck, the sensation surprising him somewhat, he had never experienced anything like it before. It had gotten warm during the summer months in Mirkwood and Ithilien, but the shade of the trees had cooled things down considerably.

Legolas scooted back into the corner and leaned against the wall. The darkness was starting to close in on him, his breathing was coming more quickly. It was too small and too dark. He closed his eyes and tried to will away his fear. He hadn’t felt like this since Moria and he had hoped, at that time, to never feel it again. He needed to get out before his heart beat straight through his chest.

A rattling outside his cell ripped Legolas from his terror. A loud banging followed and the door to his cell was flung open. Light flooded in, temporarily blinding the elf and he blinked his eyes rapidly in order to adjust to the change.

"Come out elf." A cold voice demanded. "And do not get brave, the other male elf is already in great pain due to your earlier actions."

Legolas hesitated momentarily, he didn’t know if this change of events was any better. He then slid himself across the dirt floor and climbed out of his tight confine and came to stand. His legs protested slightly from their extended lack of use and the weakness that was incurred by the arrow wound. His back ached from the bent position that he needed to lie in and his neck burned from where Kalen had stood on it.

Nolir stood in front of Legolas and looked him over, his narrow eyes coming to stop on the cut on the elf’s cheek. "Put these on and do not give me any trouble elf, you know what will happen if you do" He growled as he threw a bundle at Legolas and stepped back, his eyes never leaving the golden elf. Legolas opened the bundle to reveal a pale blue robe with a white tie made of silk rope.

He slowly slid his leather tunic over his head and removed the light weight under tunic. He didn’t remove his leggings, even though they were quite tattered from the wound and ministrations. He kept his own boots as well, pulling the robe on over them. Nolir stepped forward just as Legolas was tying the rope around his waist and handed the elf a bowl full of water and a cloth.

"Clean yourself up. You look a disgrace. Especially for a prince."

Legolas proceeded to dampen the cloth with the water and wipe it over his face. He rinsed it back out in the water and watched as the once clean liquid turned pink. He ran the cloth over his face several more times then handed the items back to Nolir.

"Kalen is waiting for you in his chambers. You are to help him prepare for dinner and then you will serve him and his advisors."

Legolas was lead away from his cell and across the courtyard. The cell was exactly that. Rather than dungeons, Marek had a series of ‘sweat boxes’ where criminals and misbehaving slaves were kept. The cells had no protection from the sun and were known to get extremely hot. It was a form of punishment for those placed within and most only ever visited once as, those who survived the experience, did everything within their power to not have to go back.

Nolir lead Legolas up the stairs and into the palace. The sun had just dipped below the horizon and the marble walls kept the palace quite cool. The elf prince stretched out his back and legs as he was guided through the lengthy corridors. While he walked and stretched he tried to take note of the path that he was lead on. If he had the opportunity to escape, he didn’t want to be hindered because he he had the mishap to get lost.

The pair stopped in front of an ornately carved wooden door and Nolir reached out and knocked three times. Then, without awaiting a response he turned the knob and swung the door open. He stepped slightly to the side of the entryway and motioned for Legolas to enter. The elf stepped into the room and Nolir closed the door behind them standing just in front of it, acting as guard.

Kalen sat at a table with a large mirror, watching Legolas’ reflection. "The robes of Marek suit you, do you not agree?" He didn’t wait for a response but continued on, "I am most fortunate to have such a fine servant."

Kalen turned around and rose from the bench he was perched on. He strode across the room and stopped in front of Legolas. He looked the elf over starting at his feet his eyes slowly roving up the elf and stopping on his face. He then reached out and traced the cut on Legolas’ cheek with a thick finger.

"You are an interesting creature. Very fair and yet very strong. I could learn a lot from you and you a lot from me"

Legolas felt repulsed by the man’s touch and jerked his face away, increasing the distance between himself and Kalen. Eyes narrowing even more at the slight, Kalen let out a growl and snatched the elf’s chin, twisting his face back so that he looked directly into the prince’s eyes.

"I will not warn you again elf. You belong to me now and you will do as I say."

"I belong to no one," Legolas hissed.

Kalen clenched his teeth and squeezed the chin harder, "Oh no? You may want to reconsider your attitude." A sickening smile appeared on Kalen’s face as he spoke. "The male elf is already in great pain due to your earlier foolishness. Even as we speak, he lie in a heap, whimpering in pain. I would hate to bring the same misery to either of the maidens."

The two stared at one another for a moment, neither willing to back down to the other. Legolas especially was not about to let this man intimidate him. He would cooperate as much as possible so that he could save the others from harm, but he would not jeopardize his honor.

"There is a red robe with gold etching in my closet," Kalen said averting his eyes, "Retrieve it for me."

Legolas hesitantly assisted the Lord of Kalen in his preparations for dinner, it was a long and agonizing task and took all of the elf’s patience to keep from strangling the man. His pride ached at the power this man held over him. It was a cowardly way to control someone, but it was definitely working. Once they had finished their preparations, Nolir reopened the door and Kalen stepped out followed by Legolas with the guard bringing up the rear.

The trio made there way back through the winding corridors and into a large dining hall. All those sitting around the table rose as the Lord of Marek entered.

Nolir reached out and grabbed Legolas roughly by the arm, "You will stand to Kalen’s left and do as you are bid." The elf glared at the guard, a hint of warning in his eyes, then yanked his arm from the guard’s grasp and moved to stand next to Kalen’s chair.

Dinner was served and the Diners began to engage in conversation over their meals when Legolas realized that it had been many days since he had last eaten. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and took a deep breath.

Valar help me, he thought to himself. Give me strength

"Elf!" Kalen was yelling, anger evident in his voice. Legolas refocused his attention on the man and raised his eyebrows in anticipation. "I called to you three times elf."

Legolas stepped forward, he wasn’t going to respond and he sure wasn’t going to apologize. Kalen reached up and grabbed the elf by the shoulder and pulled him close, his nails digging into the elf’s flesh.

"I should only have to summon you once. The red headed she-elf will be punished later for your lack of respect." Kalen hissed.

Shock ran through Legolas. This man was going to punish Adaria because he hadn’t heard him beckoning. He couldn’t just sit back and let the other elves be punished for his mistakes. "I do not think that necessary." Legolas responded.

"It matters not what you think slave."

"You cannot punish her just because I did not hear you summon me."

"I can do whatever I want. I am Lord of Marek and your master."

Legolas rose from his bent position, anger flaring within him. He couldn’t allow it. Adaria had done nothing wrong. All logic fled him and Legolas’ hand shot out, snatching the knife from Kalen’s plate. Looming over the Lord of Marek, he placed the point of the knife to Kalen’s throat. "You cannot do it!" Legolas shouted.

Kalen was caught completely off guard, his eyes were wide in fear and the rest of the Diner’s had fallen quiet, watching in anticipation.

"You will never make it out of here alive if you kill me, Legolas." the warning was a whisper and the confidence had returned to the large man. "If you die, then who will look after the others. You cannot protect them in your Halls of Waiting."

Stunned by how much this man actually did know about elves, Legolas felt his press on the knife loosen slightly. He knew that it didn’t really matter how this incident turned out, both he and one, if not all, of the others would be punished. Things were going from bad to worse quickly.

"You are mine now Legolas, accept it, I will do with you what I wish." Kalen’s whispered breath brushed over Legolas’ face and the anger he felt screamed inside of him.

Legolas lashed out, slashing the tip of the knife across the large man’s face. A line of red appeared instantly on Kalen’s cheek and he pressed his hand up to the injury. Throwing the knife to the table, Legolas fled the dining hall, the murmurs of shock from the other diners echoing in his ears.

No sooner had he cleared the hall when he was tackled from the side by Nolir. The large captain was accompanied by two other guards and the three of them quickly overpowered the elf. None too gently were Legolas’ arms wrenched behind his back by one while the others attempted to hold him down. Legolas let out a growl of frustration as Nolir twisted his hand in the elf’s golden hair and forced him to his feet.

The large figure of the Lord of Marek stepped out of the dining hall a smug look on his blood stained face. He held a pure white linen napkin in his chubby hand and wiping blood from his face, briskly walked to the now subdued elf Prince. "Put him back in the sweatbox. He can stay there until he learns some manners." Kalen hissed, spraying Legolas with spittle as he spoke. He stared long in into the elf’s eyes willing Legolas to give in under his stare.

Unable to hold the elf’s gaze, Kalen swung his eyes to Nolir, "Get him out of my sight."

Legolas, surrounded by Nolir and the two other guards was pushed, shoved and pulled from the palace and across the courtyard. The sun had set, causing the temperature to dip somewhat and Legolas got a brief glance up at the stars shining overhead. His reverie was shortly lived, however, as he was forcefully shoved back into his cell. He hit the ground hard on his knees and turned to see the door slam shut and the light sucked from the cage.

Chapter 14 - For the Sake of One

The ‘storm’ was worse than Aragorn had expected. Eomer and had arrived just that morning, and to Aragorn’s surprise had brought Gimli with him. The dwarf had intended on surprising Aragorn and then Legolas with his unexpected visit. The surprise had worked.

Faramir and Eowyn had arrived yesterday. Even though Aragorn had written that there was nothing to be done in Minas Tirith the couple has insisted on coming anyway. Their company and strong will had been most welcome.

Right now he sat in the small counsel room surrounded by the four of them plus Arwen and Angrod and he didn’t have a single answer to any of their questions. All Aragorn could tell them was that he trusted Alcandir would do his job and bring Legolas home. But that he didn’t know when this would occur was most difficult for the diverse group to accept.

It was such an unusual group and that they had all become such close friends was even more unusual. It was expected that these leaders of such great realms and colonies would be natural allies. It was expected that these noble men and women would send great armies to protect each other’s people. But here Aragorn stood in a room filled with Kings, Queens, Princes, Princesses, Lords, Ladies and War Heroes, and each of them was willing to risk their own lives for the sake of one. It was truly astounding.

Having to deny them this was not the easiest job. Granted, Aragorn couldn’t outright forbid any of them to go after their friend. So, it was, he pleaded and bargained with them in order to keep them away from the Southern lands.

The room had fallen silent. Aragorn sat with his head in his hands, slowly rubbing his temples with his fingers. He’d had a headache from the moment that Angrod had burst into this very room with news of Legolas’ abduction. Stress and worry was wearing on him and as he looked around the room he could see the distinct signs that they were also affecting his friends.

Eomer and Gimli looked as though they had not slept at all on their journey to the White City. Both had red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair. Both were covered in dust and wore torn clothing. Aragorn didn’t know why they had hastened their journey, perhaps they had a feeling that something was amiss.

Eomer knew exactly who Alcandir was and when he was first told of the arrangement to have the bounty hunter retrieve Legolas he thought Aragorn mad. "Aragorn, I think you have erred in your decision. Alcandir is well known for causing problems and getting himself into trouble."

With a great sigh which showed his fatigue Aragorn responded with little conviction. "Eomer King, I know that Alcandir has a history for being overly aggressive. But, tell me, has he ever failed to bring in the one he sought?"

Eomer looked thoughtful for a moment then lifted his eyes to meet Aragorn’s. The edges of his mouth lifted ever so slightly and he nodded his head. "No he has not."

Gimli, however wasn’t quite as easy to convince and Aragorn was tempted to lock him in the dungeons to keep him from doing anything irrational. The dwarf puffed up his chest and dared anyone to stop him from going after his good friend. It was only after Aragorn explained the harm that might befall Legolas if they went into Harad, that Gimli resolved to wait for word.

Faramir and Eowyn both sat in silent contemplation trying to piece together this mystery, leaning on each other for strength and support. Aragorn trusted Faramir more than any of his advisors. There were many a night that the two would sit up and discuss the future of Gondor and the progress of rebuilding this great kingdom. Several times Legolas had been right there with them and Faramir had developed a great friendship and admiration for the elf prince. In return, Legolas had done the same with Faramir.

Angrod looked like he was ready to charge out the door and take on all of Harad by himself to get his Prince home. His anger and frustration had been a source of anxiety for Aragorn, partly because he never looked forward to telling the dark elf that there had been no word from Alcandir, but mostly because he felt exactly the same as Angrod.

Arwen sat quietly in the corner watching and listening. She had not been sleeping, mainly because she had sat up at night with Aragorn as he paced about their sleeping quarters. She was the glue that was holding him together, she was the one that reminded him to think before he acted. If it weren’t for her Aragorn would probably be in Harad with an army of men and Legolas would be dead because of his irrational behavior.

Even though Aragorn continually told his friends that he believed in his decision, deep down he wondered if he was right. Not that he didn’t trust Alcandir, but he had to take into consideration that the man was rash and hotheaded at times. Aragorn desperately wanted to be in Harad ensuring, for himself, that Legolas was brought home safely.

The powerful group of friends had reluctantly decided to allow Alcandir time to do his job. In the meantime, Aragorn had to sit back, practice patience and continue to hold back the storm that was currently raging in his small counsel room.

****************************************************************************

Legolas wasn’t sure what day it was, actually, he wasn’t sure if it was even day at all. There was no light entering the cell in which he was imprisoned. The only way to determine whether it was day or night was by the temperature. At times the cell would cool down, although only slightly, giving Legolas the impression that nighttime had fallen.

The heat was so intense that it actually affected the elf. He couldn’t imagine how any human survived more than a couple of hours in one of these rooms. He was sweating and lightheaded and there were times when he was so overcome with nausea that he was sure, had he eaten anything, he would have expelled it long ago. That thought alone only served to remind Legolas that he hadn’t eaten since before he was taken.

The lack of food was taking its tole on the elf as well. Legolas could not ever remember a time when he had felt so weak. Even if the cell were big enough to move around in, Legolas did not have the energy to do more than sit in the corner and try to will his body to cool itself down.

When he had first been returned to the cell, Legolas had spent some time feeling his way around, looking for any sign of weakness in the structure. Kalen had obviously worked quite hard on perfecting the confines because Legolas could not find so much as a splinter in the wood.

Legolas had also had to calm his mind down with regards to the darkness and closeness of the cell. He spent many hours thinking about the woods of Ithilien and Mirkwood. Mirkwood had begun to return to its old glory and light now flooded the forest. He had never really taken to calling his home Mirkwood and it was nice that others could now see the beauty of the great forest.

Silence was the only companion the elf had and the lack of noise was deafening. There were no trees to speak with, the earth lacked life and Legolas continued to fight the darkness that was encroaching on his mind. He sang songs from his childhood, songs about towering branches and ethereal guidance, but little comfort was found in his melodic words. He missed the trees and the stars greatly.

A rattling at the door pulled the elf prince back to reality and he closed his eyes in preparation for the opening of the cell door. There was a loud bang and a dim light flooded the tiny room. Legolas blinked his eyes rapidly in order to adjust. As his vision slowly began to come into focus, he saw the face of Nolir leering in the doorway.

"You are still alive elf?" He questioned.

Legolas didn’t respond, he didn’t have the energy, nor did he want to show this man how weak he was.

A smug smile lit up the Haradrim’s face and he waved his hand in a motion for the elf to come out of the cell. "Kalen wishes to speak with you."

Legolas moved, ever so slowly, to his knees and crawled out of the door. He lifted his right knee up and let his foot fall to the ground so that he could push his body into a standing position. His legs ached from lack of use and his head was pounding.

Nolir, getting impatient reached out and grabbed Legolas under the arm and yanked him to his feet. "Come on elf, we do not have all night." Legolas’ head swam from the quick movement and he thought, for a moment, that he would pass out. He took several deep breaths as he was pulled through the courtyard by the repulsive man.

The two contrasted sharply with each other. Where Legolas was fair and full of light, Nolir was appalling and cheerless. There was an intense hatred in Nolir’s eyes when he looked at the elf and it could be seen by all.

Nolir practically dragged Legolas up the stairs and into the palace. They didn’t stop at Kalen’s private chambers like Legolas had expected but continued past the large ornate doors and walked further into the palace. Winding hallways and abrupt turns kept the elf’s mind occupied as he tried to map out where he was in the palace and it was with great surprise when they reached the end of the hall and stopped before an unadorned wall.

Nolir stood before the wall momentarily before reaching out his hand and pushing to reveal a doorway. He then shoved Legolas inside the hidden room and with a growl turned and left the way they had come, the door closing quietly behind him.

The elf turned about slowly and took in his surroundings noting that the room was near empty. There was a small, old desk to one side and a table in the center. There was no decor on the walls other than six short posts to hold torches, half of which were unused making the room somewhat dark and tenebrous. A single door allowed entrance into the room and there were no windows. The room was cooler than the others Legolas had been in the palace, allowing for the assumption that it was centrally located within the spacious building.

Moments later the door reopened and Kalen strode into the room with Nolir on his heels. Legolas was amazed at the size of the Lord of Marek, which alone was enough for the man to intimidate those around him. That he also wore such bright colors made the man virtually impossible to miss. He stood out and that was possibly how he had come into such a position of power.

"Humans have never lasted more than a day in a sweatbox, are all elves so resilient?" Kalen was now standing directly in front of Legolas but refrained from looking the elf in the eye.

When he didn’t answer, Nolir threw a punch into Legolas’ lower back knocking the elf to his knees.

"You are no longer Prince of Mirkwood and Lord of Ithilien, Legolas. You belong to me and it would save us both a lot of trouble if you would just accept that and cooperate."

"I.Belong.To.No one." Legolas growled as he rose to his feet once more.

This time Nolir, who had stepped around the elf, landed a fist to Legolas’ jaw. The elf’s head snapped back, the pounding therein intensifying. Slowly, Legolas turned his eyes back on Kalen and tried to still the dizzying sensation he was experiencing.

"Legolas, please." Kalen pleaded sarcastically. "Your help would be appreciated. More importantly, it will make things less painful for you and the others."

Legolas was growing impatient with having the other elves used against him. He bit his tongue and refrained from responding to the man’s threat. Nothing he said would help. The Lord of Marek was used to getting things his way and would use any means necessary to achieve his wants. There was no doubt in Legolas’ mind that he would harm, if not kill, one of the others if he didn’t cooperate.

"I have found a new job for you," Kalen continued. "I am intrigued by you and the others. How is it that you can spend two days in a sweatbox and still live? You were shot with an arrow upon your capture and yet you show no residual effects. The cut upon your cheek is nearly healed. I want to learn all there is of elves. All about your habits, traditions, beliefs, fears. I want you to teach me Legolas."

‘Surely he is jesting’ Legolas thought to himself. "You expect me to betray my people. No. I will tell you nothing." He couldn’t, in good conscience, do anything that would allow the others to be punished, but he was beginning to realize that no matter how he responded someone was going to suffer, whether it be himself or the other elves being held somewhere within the compound.

Kalen raised his wide opened eyes to Legolas, "I will give you only one chance to rethink your reply. I was not asking you to help. I was commanding you to help." Turning slowly on his portly legs Kalen continued to question the elf.

"How many elves remain in Middle Earth?" He paced back and forth as he questioned Legolas, not waiting for answers. "Are the elves still breeding?"

Questions continued to pour from the large man’s mouth causing Legolas to tense in irritation and discomfort and the level of interest Kalen had in his people.

Legolas lifted his chin and pushed back his shoulders, "You will learn nothing from me." His bold statement cutting the Lord of Marek off mid-question.

"You give me no other choice then." Kalen stepped away from Legolas and walked toward the door his face turning red in anger. "He is all yours Nolir. But do not kill him yet, I have a feeling that the Prince will be changing his mind." The sound of the door closing echoed throughout the near empty room and Legolas turned to face the approaching Captain of Marek.

He watched closely has Nolir pulled a dagger from its scabbard on his belt, a sickly smile on his face. Nolir sidestepped around the elf, his eyes never leaving his prey. Legolas watched the man moving around him, but didn’t move his body to follow. His head turned so that he could see the man of Harad over his shoulder.

He was prepared when Nolir finally lunged at him and easily twisted his upper body to avoid the strike. Swinging his arm around, Legolas’ closed fist connected solidly with Nolir’s mouth causing the man to stumble back, stunned by the strike. Spitting the blood from his mouth he quickly lunged at Legolas again. Once again the agile elf stepped out of the way of the oncoming attack.

Legolas could feel that his reflexes were slowed due to his weakened state and the unusual robes he wore hindered his movement. He knew that the fight would not end in his favor, but he was going to make the man earn every shot he took. It was cowardly to attack one unarmed and Legolas was greatly angered by the tactics that were employed.

Legolas once again parried to avoid Nolir but the man countered quickly this time and kicked at Legolas’ left knee. The force of the impact pushed the knee inward, with a sickening pop, sending Legolas sprawling to the floor landing on his stomach with a soft grunt.

Nolir was not slowed by lack of sustenance or exposure to extreme temperatures and as Legolas rolled to his back to once again face his attacker Nolir plunged the dagger into Legolas’ chest. The dagger protruded from just below the collar bone on his right side and blood spilled from the wound. Pausing only momentarily of gawk at the flow of blood, the man bent over the elf and jerked the weapon free.

Legolas gasped as the dagger was removed and attempted to lift himself from the floor. Nolir stood twirling the weapon in his hand watching the elf struggle. He didn’t say anything, just loomed overhead and observed the elf’s plight. He then stepped around behind the Legolas and slashed the knife across the elf’s lower back causing Legolas to arch away from the source of the pain.

As he arched his back, his head rose up presenting the perfect target for Nolir. Unable to avoid such an open invitation, the man spun around and kicked out his leg, the top of his foot connecting with the side of Legolas’ head sending the elf, once again, crashing to the floor.

Legolas fought to remain conscious as Nolir stepped over to him and looked down on his fallen prey. He felt long, thick fingers become entwined in his hair and cursed himself, yet again, for his weakness. Nolir pulled on the gold tresses, lifting Legolas’ head from the floor, and looked into the elf’s cloudy eyes with a smile. Using his free hand to caress Legolas’ bloody cheek, the guard then traced his rough forefinger over the elf prince’s features, seemingly entranced by the sight of blood on the pale face.

Keeping his hand firmly twisted in Legolas’ hair, Nolir rolled the elf onto his back and slid his arm’s beneath his captive. Legolas was lifted from the ground, then hoisted over the man’s shoulder. The elf’s vision swam in and out of focus as the guard carried him back out of the room. He gasped for air as they left the palace and crossed the courtyard. Nolir’s arm gripped onto Legolas’ injured knee, to keep him in place on his shoulder, and the pain caused the nausea to well up once again.

Legolas was roughly dumped back into the sweatbox and the door was slammed shut, locking him once again in darkness. He fought to control his breathing and pushed himself up so that he could lean back into the corner he had become so familiar with since arriving in Marek. He slid the robe off of his shoulders to bare his torso and new wounds.

For once, he was thankful for the confining robes that he was forced to wear as he began to tear long strips from the edge for makeshift bandages. With some effort, Legolas bound the knife wound in his shoulder, winding the strips over his shoulder and chest. He took one last strip and pressed it to his head as he reached down with his other hand and massaged the top his knee. He could feel the swelling that had already begun and hissed as he stretched his leg out in order to straighten the damaged joint. His back wound would have to go unattended, its location too difficult for the elf to reach in such a close confines.

Darkness began to deepen as Legolas felt his consciousness fleeing and he welcomed the sensation. Yet once again, he was jerked back to reality by a rattling at his cell door. ‘Back so soon?’ He didn’t think he could take another ‘talk’ with Kalen so quickly.

The cell door was flung open and Legolas fought his waning vision to see who had come for him this time. To his surprise another was tossed into the cell landing directly on his injured knee. Legolas shut his eyes and bit his lip to keep from crying out. He sat this way for a moment, willing the pain away and calming his mind.

Opening his eyes once again, Legolas could just make out the long dark hair covering the other’s face as the door was once again slammed shut and darkness engulfed the cell.

Quiet sobs echoed through the tiny confine and Legolas could feel the other body shaking. He reached out and pushed his new cell mate off of his injured knee sucking in his breath and holding it as he fought off the pain.

"Who is there?" The other asked in a strained voice.

"Lómëdil, is that you?" Legolas asked, shock filling his voice.

"Lord Legolas? Oh, My Lord." Lómëdil gasped and reached out to Legolas.

Legolas grabbed the elf and pulled him up, his back resting against Legolas’ chest. Lómëdil was shaking uncontrollably as sobs wracked his body. "They killed her My Lord. They killed her."

Chapter 15 - Dark Reunions

"They killed her. They killed her. She is dead." Lómëdil was sobbing so hard that his words were barely intelligible. His body continued to jerk and shake and he pushed himself back into Legolas, ignorant of the princes injuries.

Legolas sucked in his breath. He was in great pain but Lómëdil was hurting more severely in another way. He tried to console the crying elf but no measure of comfort and support could change that they were in this place and Lómëdil had obviously witnessed something horrible.

Legolas had a suspicion of what had happened to upset Lómëdil so much, but he needed to hear it from the distraught elf. There were few things that could cause an elf to so lose their composure and in a land so devoid of life and compassion to lose your one connection with everything you love would be enough to push anyone over the edge.

Lómëdil’s sobbing had quieted down and he had begun to mumble one thing repeatedly, "Nienna, Nienna." To hear the elf so lost was heart wrenching for Legolas. The sobbing and crying stung in his ears and caused his head to pound ever harder. He wished that he could take the distraught elf’s pain completely away that he could wish him back to Ithilien.

"Lómëdil, what has happened?" Legolas asked hesitantly. He hated to make Lómëdil relive the nightmare he had witnessed but he needed to know what had happened if he was going to have any chance of helping the elf at all.

Lómëdil didn’t answer the elf prince’s inquiry. He let out a low moan and pushed himself back into Legolas once again. Pain pierced through the elf once more, he knew that he would have to get Lómëdil to talk quickly or he would pass out from the pain that the dark elf was unconsciously subjecting him to.

"Lómëdil, I need you to tell me what happened out there. I need to know so that I can understand your pain. Please, you must speak to me."

"Nienna, they killed her my Lord, they just killed her." The dark elf slowly lifted his head and tried to see his prince, "It is so dark. Not just here in this cell. This land is so dark. Light does not come here. It is too overcome with evil. Your light does not even penetrate this darkness my Prince." He was rambling now and Legolas grew more concerned for Lómëdil’s stability. The dark elf rested his head back against Legolas’ chest once more and took a deep breath.

"We were out in the fields working. Adaria, Nienna and I. We were obeying them, doing what they told us. We knew that it was the only way to survive long enough for you to figure a way out of here. We worried about your safety, but we worked and waited.

"We worked day and night. During the day we worked inside the palace, cleaning and serving. At night we worked the fields. They watched us always. Eyes were everywhere. They saw everything. We were not permitted to speak with each other. We were only to do as we were told and not question.

"They came to take her. Nienna. They came and pulled her from the fields and they dragged her away from Adaria and me. She was frightened. I could see it so clearly in her eyes. She was so scared. She fought against them. She did not want to go with them. I do not know the reason that they came for her, but she did not want to go.

"I could not let them take her. We are bonded and I am supposed to protect her. I promised her father that I would not let any harm come to her. I went after her. I pushed the guards holding her. More guards came and I was knocked to the ground. The new guards began to strike at me with their hands and feet. I could hear her screaming. She was screaming for them to stop hurting me. She was screaming for them to let her go.

"I heard her struggling and fighting against the guards" Lómëdil stopped in his story, his voice hitched and he began to sob again. He was hyperventilating, fighting to bring in enough air to calm his lungs.

"Breathe Lómëdil. Take slow deep breaths." Legolas soothed. "You must calm yourself and tell me what happened to Nienna and Adaria."

Lómëdil began to force himself to take large, deep breaths. Legolas could feel tears wetting his chest and he slowly raised his hand and felt for the dark elf’s face. Placing his hand on Lómëdil’s forehead, his fingers fell upon a large, jagged opening across Lómëdil’s brow. The wound was sticky with blood and Legolas pressed his palm to it to slow the bleeding. He then gently brushed back Lómëdil’s hair and slid his hand down to wipe the tears from the dark elf’s face.

"I heard her fighting the guards." Lómëdil continued. "Then all fell silent. The guards attacking me stopped. Nienna stopped screaming. I looked to see what had caused the abrupt halt. She was just lying there on the ground. There was blood everywhere. There was so much blood. They slit her throat right there in the field."

The distraught elf let out another anguished moan. "They would not let me go to her. They forced me away and brought me here. She died alone. I did not get to tell her good bye. I did not get to tell her how much I love her."

He was completely quiet now. His breathing had slowed and he had stopped pushing into the prince. Legolas now rested his hand on Lómëdil’s chest feeling his heart. His heartbeat was steady yet weak. The dark elf had gone completely still with the exception of a slight tremble that shook his body.

Legolas whispered a silent prayer then leaned his head back into the corner he had become so accustomed to. He had failed, he was supposed to protect the elves in his colony. Yet here he was trapped, unable to keep his promise. I am so sorry. Please forgive me Nienna. Please.

"I am so sorry Lómëdil. I have failed you." A tear snuck out of the corner of the elf prince’s eye and he pulled the overwrought elf closer to him, ignoring his own pain. He thought about Adaria, where was she, what was happening to her. He feared that he would lose Lómëdil as well. That the dark elf would succumb to his grief and depart middle earth in search of his love.

He wondered where Aragorn was now. Did his friend know where he was? Was he sending aid? He hoped that Aragorn would come soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer they would last in this place. He could feel his energy fleeing him even as he sat there. He could feel Lómëdil’s fleeing as well.

As thoughts raced through the blonde elf’s mind, he ensured that Lómëdil’s heart still beat beneath his hand. Valar help us, give us strength. Then finally, the increased fatigue from the fight, the pain of his injuries and the ache in his heart was too much for Legolas to take and he quit and let sleep take him.

*****************************************************************************

Golden streams of light were just starting to crawl over the horizon as Alcandir rode into the town of Sadral. This was the closest town to the Harad/Gondor border so it was an obvious first stop.

All of the towns in Harad looked the same, white buildings of varying heights and lengths standing side by side, lining both sides of a narrow street. At one edge of each town there always stood a palace of sorts, where the Lord of that particular town resided. The palaces varied in appearance, some were larger than others, some more lavish, but they were always there.

The Lord of each town was another story all together. They were all different in appearance and disposition. The Lord of Sadral was a decent, fair man. He knew just about everything that was going on in his town and was extremely involved in the law making and enforcement. He had absolutely no interest in what was going on outside of Sadral and tried to stay out of the affairs of other towns and their Lords.

It was, for this reason, that traveling into Harad was a difficult and challenging task and Alcandir hated doing it. He had to be constantly aware of whose jurisdiction he was in and what quirky laws were in effect. Alcandir was comfortable in Sadral though. He had been there several times and knew many of the locals. It was a common stop for many men in his business and he always ran into at least one while visiting.

Sadral was just starting to quiet down as he rode through its streets. People were heading indoors to get out of the heat. Some looked up at him in curiosity, but the majority kept their eyes focused on what they were doing and didn’t acknowledge his presence at all.

There was only one inn in Sadral, fortunately the inn, aptly called The Inn, had a pub attached to it. The pub had good ale and decent food and should be quite active at this time of the morning. Pubs were a bounty hunter’s dream come true. They were the ears and eyes of one in Alcandir’s profession. Most bounty hunters and slave drivers were eager to brag about their most recent job and if you were able to find one who had already consumed a couple of ales then you could hear their entire working history.

Alcandir was relying on learning something in The Inn about recent slave runs and he knew that if someone had recently brought a group of elves into Harad news would travel fast.

After turning his horse over to the stable boy and ordering a pint at the bar, Alcandir made his way to a table against the back wall. He sat down and leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. He hadn’t planned on spending too much time in the pub this day. He was tired and just wanted a meal and a drink before he had a good days sleep in a real bed.

A bar maid brought Alcandir a plate of meat and bread and he sat back and watched the other men moving around the pub as he ate. He didn’t actually recognize any of the men drinking today, but the pub wasn’t as busy as he had anticipated.

Alcandir finished his meal, ordered another pint and lit up his pipe. He needed to do some real investigating over the next couple of days to determine whom Legolas had been sold to. He planned to spend a day and night in Sadral then move onto the next town which was a few days ride southwest, depending on the heat.

Marek it was called and Alcandir did not look forward to going there. The Lord of Marek was well known for his horrible temper and lack of compassion. Alcandir generally tried to avoid the town of Marek, but he could not afford to take any shortcuts with this job.

He had finished his second ale and pipe weed and was making to get up and go to bed when he was stopped by a familiar voice.

"Well, well, well, you are not retiring so early are you Alcandir? Least of all without having an ale with an old friend."

"I would hardly call you a friend." Alcandir retorted trying to hide the smile on his face.

"Come now, our last parting was not so bad, was it?"

"No parting from you is bad, so long as it increases the distance between us."

The two became quiet and searched each other’s eyes for the real intentions of their old acquaintance. Smiles began to spread over each face and they reached out and grasped each other by the arm.

"It is good to see you again Alcandir." The man laughed.

"And you as well." They each took a seat at the table that Alcandir had been occupying for the majority of the night.

Alcandir let out a sigh and shook his head in amazement at seeing his old friend. It was a comfort to see a familiar, friendly face in a land such as Harad and he hadn’t seen this such face in many years.

With a deepening smile Alcandir inquired with a small laugh. "So, tell me, Medero, what brings you to Sadral."

Chapter 16 - Revelations

Alcandir was more confused by Medero’s sudden appearance than surprised. It had been years since he had seen his friend from Harad. As he recalled, they were both tracking the same fugitive and he had come out the victor resulting in a very angry and annoyed Medero.

The bounty hunter leaned back in his chair with a smug smile on his face. "How long has it been Medero?"

Medero mimicked his friend and shifted to sit back in his chair as well. Alcandir had a feeling that Medero wouldn’t answer his questions too easily. As a matter of fact, the two would probably sit here all night, drinking and reminiscing but neither would answer the others questions about their current job.

"Avoiding my question old friend?" Alcandir paused momentarily to study the effect this statement would have on his drinking partner. "You can rest assured that I will not steal this one out from under you. I am preoccupied with my own pursuit at the moment."

Medero’s smile broadened, "Steal is correct, Alcandir. I had apprehended that vile creature well before you came along."

A loud laugh burst from Alcandir, and the few patrons residing in The Inn turned to see what all the commotion was. It took a moment for him to regain his composure and he wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes. "I had almost forgotten how amusing you were Medero. Amusing and forgetful."

He paused once again to let out another slight laugh and then taking a deep breath continued. "You are fully aware that you did not have that vile creature, as you so affectionately referred to him, under control. When I came across you, it seemed rather that he had detained you. You should be quite grateful that I found you when I did."

"Now who is being forgetful, old friend?" Medero interrupted, his smile having now faded. "You more than likely stumbled upon us rather than use your investigative skills to find us. You should be thanking your Gods that you were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time."

"I jest Medero, you were always quite good at hunting down the ones you sought."

"Aye, almost as good as you. You gave me something to strive for."

The pair sat in silence drinking their ale and smoking their pipes. Alcandir started going over in his mind what he needed to do now that he was in Harad. He couldn’t very well walk into each town and start asking questions, that would certainly get him killed. Then again, he couldn’t spend the time that it would surely take to watch and observe each town until he found the elf prince.

Normally that is exactly what he would do. He would sit back and monitor the town and learn all that he could from listening in on conversations and watching the townspeople. He had found that the easiest way to get an honest answer out of someone was not to ask but just watch.

The silence between the two wasn’t awkward. They had known each other for far too long. Sounds from the pub filled the air and it was comforting. Alcandir had begun to feel more at home in a good pub than he did in any other place. He could do what he wanted, say what he wanted and all he had to do was throw a little money to the inn keeper to keep him happy.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Alcandir pressed his friend once more. "So, tell me my friend, what are you doing in Sadral?"

The smug smile came back to Medero’s face and he leaned forward resting his forearms on the table. "You just cannot bear the idea of me having a job that you are unaware of." He let out a soft laugh then continued. "If you really must know, I am enjoying a well-needed respite. I have just finished a job. Successfully I might add"

He studied his friend for a moment, looking for signs that Medero was telling the truth. Seeing that there was no lie in his eyes, Alcandir nodded his head and took another long puff from his pipe.

"Now, what brings you to Sadral, Alcandir?"

"I am working on something, as I am sure you have already guessed."

"Care to share?’

"Hmm, you first Medero." Alcandir was not about to share with his temporary companion what he was doing in Harad, but he was curious what Medero had been up to.

Medero turned his head, looking at Alcandir out of the corner of his eye, his eyebrow raised inquisitively. "I was retrieving some merchandise for one of the town Lords."

His answer seemed vague enough but Alcandir had been in his line of work far too long to not know what the man was talking about. Anger and disgust began to fill the bounty hunter and the merriment quickly fled the table.

"When did you become so contemptible?" Alcandir sneered.

Medero let out a frustrated sigh, "It is no different than what you do Alcandir."

"It is very different Medero," Alcandir checked his voice, he was starting to raise it in anger. "You prey on the innocent. I seek those guilty of crime. You bring disgrace to my profession."

Alcandir had no tolerance for slave runners. He did not know how anyone could do such a thing with a clear conscience. Stealing innocent people away from their homes, family and everything they hold dear was detestable. He was not an ignorant man, he knew that there were all types of professions out there and that not all of them were honorable. He knew that his profession wasn’t looked highly upon by all. There had been a few times when he had sought a wanted man only to find that he had rebuilt a life for himself and had a family, yet he had still taken them in for trial and punishment. It wasn’t an easy, well-liked profession, but it was honest.

Letting a rather exaggerated sigh flow from his flared nostrils, Alcandir continued his questioning. "Surely you did not manage to haul a group of prisoners to Harad on your own. Where are your men?"

"Hmph!" Medero shook his head in mock disgust. "You know their type, they took their pay and fled. They were eager to get drunk and bed some women after the work they put in with this last job, being as difficult as it was."

Then realization started to dawn on Alcandir. Could he have been so lucky as to stumble across the man responsible for Legolas’ abduction in the first town he stopped in? If so, would Medero tell him where the elf was? Surely he wasn’t here in Sadral, as far as he knew the Lord of Sadral didn’t use slaves.

Medero had fallen silent since Alcandir’s last comment and he sat now with his arms folded tightly across his chest. He was angry and wasn’t hiding it and Alcandir figured now was as good a time as any to ask the other man what he needed to know.

"Medero, was it a group of elves that you were retrieving for this Lord?" He paused to measure the expression on Medoro’s face. "Answer truthfully."

Alcandir already knew the answer. Medero’s face practically screamed "yes". The look of shock at the bounty hunter knowing was so distinct and obvious. This was the key to completing this job and going home. This man was the solution to making the King of Gondor happy. That was if the elf still lived.

"Where are they Medero?" He continued. "Which Lord did you sale them to?"

Alcandir was desperate now. He couldn’t believe he was so close. He could see Medero contemplating his options. He could see that the man was trying to figure out how to get out of this inn without telling him a single thing. Alcandir was not about to let him leave so easily though. He needed to hear what his old friend had to say and he would force him to tell if necessary.

Medero took a large swallow of ale and then looked to Alcandir. "What is this information you seek worth?"

Was he serious? I should reach over and squeeze the answers I seek out of you. Alcandir thought to himself. He couldn’t believe that Medero was going to play these games with him. Okay then, we’ll play

Alcandir pushed out his bottom lip and shrugged his shoulders. "To me, it is worth naught. To the King of Gondor, much. To you, your very life."

He watched once again as Medero tried to work things out in his head. He knew that the man wasn’t very bright but he was well surpassing all expectations today.

"Maybe I should help you with your decision here Medero." Alcandir stood and pulled his chair closer to the other man, "If you do not tell me where the elf is, then I will take you back in his place and personally hand you over to King Elessar and his friends and inform them that you are the reason that their friend is gone."

"So, you only seek one of the elves?"

"I think you know whom I seek Medero. I was sent for one specifically, but I will take all I can get."

Alcandir didn’t mind telling his old friend this information. He knew that, even though Medero had stooped to a new low with slave running, he wouldn’t inform anyone that he was in Harad seeking the elf.

"I do know of whom you seek," Medero answered. "I did not realize who he was until I had turned him over to Kalen."

"So they are in Marek then."

This elf must be held high in the Valar’s favor.

Alcandir stopped his thoughts. Getting the elf out of Kalen’s grasp was not going to be an easy task. Kalen was cruel and did not hesitate to use violence to protect what he believed belonged to him. By now, Kalen would most assuredly infer that Legolas and the other elves were his property.

"Do you think that Kalen will sale the elves to me or do you think I will have to take them by force?" Alcandir asked his friend.

"Kalen knows who it is that is in his possession and he is very pleased. You may be able to purchase the other three elves but he will not give up that Prince." Medero paused and looked Alcandir directly in the eye. "If you truly intend to take the golden elf then prepare yourself for a war."

Alcandir considered this for a moment. "I know of Kalen’s reputation. He is unjust and lacking compassion." He stopped to think for a moment, "Would he kill us if we asked him to sale us the elves?"

"What do you mean us? I am not going back there."

A smirk appeared on Alcandir’s face, "Oh, I think you will. I need you to introduce me as one interested in paying a very large sum of money for some elves." He could see that Medero was not buying into this plan. The man was scared. "Medero, help me with this one thing and I will make sure that King Elessar is never aware of your involvement. Ride to Marek with me and get me an audience with Lord Kalen and all will be forgiven."

Alcandir waited and watched with patience as Medero mulled it over in his mind once again. He could see that his friend was fighting an internal battle and Alcandir wasn’t sure what he would do if presented with the same decision.

"When do we leave?" Medero asked, his shoulders slumping and his head down.

"At sundown." The smirk turned into a smile, "You will not regret this friend. You will regain some of your lost honor."

Medero stood from his seat and started to head to the bar to order another ale. He stopped midway there and turned back to Alcandir. "I will be dead before my honor is restored and you will be with me." Alcandir had never had such luck in searching for his prey. To have the elf virtually handed to him was a huge surprise, one that was definitely unexpected. Marek was only a few days ride from Sadral. He could retrieve the elf and be home before he knew it.

Chapter 17- And Then There Was One

Legolas hadn’t expected on waking to find himself lying on the grass looking up at the lush, green branches of a large oak tree. There was a cool breeze dancing through the leaves which had formed a shady shelter for the elf. He watched the spots of sun, which had managed to slip past the protective foliage, dance on the ground.

He knew that he should get up and get moving, but he wasn’t sure where he needed to get going to. He rose from his place of rest and placed a hand on the tree to thank it for the protection it had provided. Silence greeted him and he abruptly jerked his hand away from the tree. He stood motionless, stunned by the lack of sound as he listened intently to the forest surrounding him. There were no birds singing, the trees were silent, even the rustling of the leaves made no sound.

Legolas was confused, he had never witnessed such quiet, and it was eerie. His blue eyes searched the boughs for any sign of life, but there was nothing. He was completely alone in the forest. He walked forward slightly and noted that even his steps emitted no sound.

What is going on here? What is this place?

Something moving in the distance caught his eye, drawing his attention from the disappearance of auditory stimulus. Legolas narrowed his eyes, searching out the source of his distraction. A slight, barely perceptible disturbance between the trees drew his gaze and the elf darted through the forest in pursuit of the mysterious entity.

As he drew closer, an unusual, gray cloud of smoke began to form around him. The smoke wove between the trees and leaves and spread through the forest until Legolas could barely see what lye in front of him.

As it twined through his legs and around his arms, a smothering sensation overwhelmed Legolas and he began to cough violently. I cannot even hear my own voice. The realization hit him like a ton of rocks and he opened his mouth and shouted with all that he had. No sound came out. Turning back in the direction he had come from, he began to run once again, hoping to get ahead of the stifling smoke.

Flames exploded in front of the elf prince and he stopped abruptly. The forest is burning, what manner of spell is this? Turning once again he began to run in the opposite direction. The smoke blinded him and his eyes began to water, it snaked into his mouth and down into his lungs suffocating him. Once again he found himself cut off by the fire consuming the forest.

Legolas turned to his left only to be met by more flames. Every direction he turned he was met by fire and smoke. He was trapped and the flames were closing in on him. Pieces of burning branch began to rain down on the elf and panic started looming inside of him. The flames were so close now that he could feel them licking at his face and arms.

He had nowhere to go. He was trapped and he would die in this hell. His lungs were burning and screaming for air as he continued to cough. Eyes watering, throat constricting, flesh burning, Legolas fell to his knees. The elf couldn’t fight much longer, he had run out of air and the flames had started to spin around him. They spun faster and Legolas gasped harder for breath. Then he was falling, the ground was rushing up to meet him and Legolas could do nothing to stop himself.

His head slammed hard into the burning earth and Legolas jerked awake. His eyes shot open and he arched his back, sucking in a large breath. His throat screeched as the air rushed through it flooding his lungs with air. Legolas breathed in again and again, the breaths coming deep and quick. His heart was pounding so loud that it seemed to echo throughout the tiny sweatbox.

Legolas’ eyes were open wide and he began to panic once again as he realized that he couldn’t see anything in the tiny room. Sweat dripped down his face and back and stung as it soaked into the cuts that riddled his body. His back ached from the extended time in the same position and he attempted to move himself to ease the strain.

He couldn’t move. Something was pinning Legolas to the wall and there was a weight upon his chest. Aye, what is happening to me. I must be going mad. He pressed against the object that held him down and was shocked to find that he was being immobilized by another person.

"Lómëdil," realization dawned on him. They had brought the dark-haired elf in sometime ago, maybe even days, how long he wasn’t sure. Nienna, Lómëdil’s beloved had been killed and Adaria’s whereabouts were unknown.

Legolas began to shake the other elf. "Lómëdil, wake my friend." There was no response and Legolas intensified his attempts to rouse him. "Please Lómëdil, you must wake." Still, no response and Legolas began to panic once again. He felt along the prone elf searching for signs of life.

Oh Valar, do not do this. Please!

Legolas pressed his hands to the other elf’s chest and stilled his own movements. He sat there for what felt an eternity, hoping for some type of sensation.

Nothing.

He leaned his head as far forward as he could, considering his awkward position beneath the other elf, and listened for breath.

Silence.

Legolas felt his heart clench and he began to heave. "No. No. No. No. Please Lómëdil." He was going to be sick.

Maybe I still dream. Wake up Legolas.

Tears flowed unhindered from the blonde elf’s eyes. He began to heave more. Pulling the elf tightly to him he held him, the tears dripping onto the dead elf. "I am sorry my friend. I am so sorry." He repeated the words over and over, hoping for forgiveness for having failed to protect the elf and his beloved Nienna.

Legolas had heard his entire life that elves could die of a broken heart. He had feared for elves in his kingdom after the loss of a loved one. Many times himself he had thought that despair might take him or one that he loved. But he had never actually witnessed it himself. That the cause of the broken heart had been because of his failure, ate at Legolas even more.

Tears had eventually stopped but Legolas continued to hold Lómëdil’s body as though willing his spirit to stay. He lay his head atop the dark head of the elf and prayed that the Valar would guide Lómëdil safely to the Halls of Mandos.

Then the rattling came. It sounded so loud this time and Legolas closed his eyes tightly as a bang resounded around him. Hands reached in and grabbed Lómëdil’s legs and began to pull, but Legolas was not letting go. They had already taken the elf’s soul. They could not have his body.

"Let go elf!" Came a shout from outside.

Legolas held on as long as he could, he fought with all of the energy that he had left to keep his friend close to him. But Lómëdil slid from his grasp and his body was removed from the sweatbox. Legolas wasn’t sure what they did with the dark-haired elf. Perhaps he was buried with his beloved Nienna, but something told him that these Haradrim were not compassionate enough for such an act.

Before he could dwell on it more, the face of Nolir appeared before him. That sneer would be forever etched into the memory of the elf prince. If he lived to get out of Marek, he would always remember the evil smile that belonged to this hideous man.

"Come elf. You have been summoned." Nolir growled.

Legolas didn’t move. He had no desire to go anywhere. Especially to see that monster of a man. It seemed, however, that he didn’t have much of a choice. A large hand reached in and grabbed the elf by the leg and began to pull him out in the same fashion they had removed Lómëdil.

Legolas bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut to keep from shouting out as the pulling strained his injured knee. He began to push with his arms to aid in exiting the box so as to relieve some of the pain. He slid along the hard dirt and he could feel the barely closed cut on his lower back rip open.

Finally, the dragging stopped and Legolas opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground at the feet of the ugly guard. Nolir leaned down and grabbed the elf by the bicep and hoisted him to his feet. Legolas stumbled slightly as weight was put on his damaged knee causing the joint to buckle inward and Nolir shot out a hand to steady him.

The guard began to lead Legolas back into the palace. Every step was agony for the elf and he found himself leaning heavily on Nolir. No words were spoken as they slowly made the journey to Kalen’s private chambers.

The large Lord of Marek was there to greet the elf and guard as they entered the room. The smile faded from Kalen’s face as he saw Legolas. "I am astounded that you still draw breath. Amazing!"

Kalen began to pace back and forth in front of Legolas and Nolir, the guard continued to hold him by his arm to keep him in place.

"You are looking a little worse for the wear though. Yet, you have suffered more than any I know and you still live." Kalen stopped to look Legolas in the eye. "Still so proud. I have withheld food and water. You have been beaten and tortured both physically and mentally. What does it take to break an elf prince?"

Kalen began to pace once more, "As I have already told you, my curiosity if piqued. Since you refuse to teach me of your people and their ways, I have no choice but to learn these things on my own. I ordered the she-elf taken to see how her lover would respond. Predictable. What was a surprise, was his reaction to her death. So strong, yet so weak."

He stopped to take a breath and see what effect his words had on the elf prince. "I had the other she-elf brought to me for company and entertainment. She resisted. Valiantly I might add. Quite impressive. Do you teach your women to fight?"

Legolas didn’t respond, he would not answer this man’s questions no matter how simple they seemed. His stomach turned at what Kalen was implying.

"She was quite entertaining, I must tell you. So soft and warm." Kalen closed his eyes and took a breath through his nose, a small, sadistic smile on his face. "Yet, that one small act of pleasure seemed to break her almost instantly. Such a sweet girl."

Legolas jumped at the large man, anger seethed within him. He wanted nothing more than to kill this man for the pain that he had caused those three valiant beings. For taking their innocence and choice away from them. If his knee hadn’t buckled under the quick motion and Nolir hadn’t been so quick, he would have put an end to the miserable man’s life.

As it was, Legolas was easily knocked to the floor by the ugly guard. Three other guards burst into the room and subdued the already injured, weakened elf. Two held his legs, one on each, the other two his arms. One arm straight out from his side, the other twisted up behind his back. Nolir placed his knee onto the side of Legolas’ face pressing the other side against cool marble floor. He fought to control the heaving that consumed him once again. Tears sprung to his eyes, clouding his vision, so that everything he could see was blurred and indiscernible.

He vaguely registered that his old wounds were paining him fiercely, the overall misery outweighed the individual discomforts. If he had stopped to focus on each wound, he would have succumbed to unconsciousness long ago.

"I have something I would like to try on you my dear prince." Kalen was speaking again and his voice grated on Legolas’ nerves. "Normally, this would kill a man within a week, but I have high expectations for you."

Legolas couldn’t see what was happening in the room. He could hear shuffling and could feel the guards, holding him down, shift their positions. The elf attempted to struggle, trying to kick his legs and pull his arms away, but he was well overpowered.

A pain, like no other he had ever felt, began to spread over his back, radiating from his right shoulder. It felt as though someone was slowly twisting a knife into his shoulder, digging it deeper and deeper.

Kalen spoke once more. "The venom of the skorpios is extremely lethal for such a small creature. No man has lived longer than seven days after being stung. They have become an extreme nuisance to the salt miners further south. I am curious the effect it will have on an elf. I thank you for agreeing to help us with this little experiment."

"You are a vile, evil man Kalen." Legolas shouted from his pinned position. "You have destroyed three pure, innocent lives and you shall rot for your actions."

"We will see," Kalen responded, a laugh causing his voice to rattle. "Right now, I would worry about myself if I were you."

The burning that followed his words was so extreme that it felt as though someone had placed a torch on Legolas’ shoulder and forgotten it. The sensation began to spread down his back and arm and up his neck. The elf let out a small moan and clamped his eyes shut against the pain.

Then the convulsing began. His body seemed not his own as the poison spread through it causing the elf to jerk and buck involuntarily. Legolas fought the unnatural motion, he tensed his muscles in an attempt to control the spasms. He battled the physical attack mentally by talking soothingly to himself, completely unaware of those surrounding him. He knew not how long the fight had lasted, but when the major convulsing had stopped and his body had eased into a steady tremble, Legolas was exhausted.

His deep breathing was all he could hear as it echoed within his head. His eyes clenched shut, the only sight he could see was the blood pulsing beneath his eyelids. He sensed those around him moving but cared not for what they did or said.

"Take him back to the box Nolir. We will check on his progress shortly." Kalen commanded and then turned to leave the room.

Legolas felt the guard pull him to his feet and wrap and arm around his waist. He was then half dragged, half carried back to the sweatbox where he was once again left in the dark to fight off the demons that taunted him."WAKE UP!" He was shouting both at himself and at the still elf. But he knew that it would have no effect. He was wide awake, in a living nightmare and Lómëdil would never wake again.

Chapter 18 - His Value

It was turning out to be a good day for Alcandir. He was able to sleep in a real bed while the sun made its trek across the sky. The meal that he’d eaten before setting out was both filling and delicious. He was able to refill all of his water skins. Most importantly he knew where his quarry was and the prize was less than two days ride from him.

Riding atop his well-rested horse next to an old friend, Alcandir almost felt more as though he were on holiday than on a job. The sky was clear and the night stars shone brightly to illuminate their path. It seemed as though they were the only two people in the entire desert and Alcandir relished in the peace and quiet.

He had urged Mithril into a light gallop in hopes of reaching Marek sooner than the usual two day estimate. He was well aware of the company that the elf prince was in at the moment and he wouldn’t leave anyone to that fate longer than necessary.

The two had been riding for several hours before the silence was finally breached. "He knows who the elf is." It was a simple statement but the effect it had on Alcandir was ample. He slowed his horse down and looked to the source of the comment, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Lord Kalen knows that he has a prince in his possession." Medero continued. "I did not realize who the golden elf was, but Kalen knew straightaway."

Alcandir listened with interest as the two rode toward Marek. Medero’s eyes glazed over somewhat as he remembered the day he had turned his catch over to their new owner. "Kalen was most pleased. He even paid me double once he received his knew servant. Odd how some lives are valued more than others."

Alcandir pondered this statement for a moment. It seemed true that some were considered of greater worth than others. There were many days when the bounty hunter would pass a beggar on the street and barely register his presence, yet mere minutes afterward a local merchant would cross his path and he would find himself nodding respectfully.

It was then that he noticed that his thoughts had strayed so far that his horse had come to a sand still, awaiting his masters next move. Alcandir glanced over to where his riding companion also sat upon a motionless steed. Medero’s eyes stared questioningly at Alcandir, curiosity and perplexity causing his tanned brow to wrinkle.

Alcandir gave a weak smile. "Aye, we tend to prize those we hold dear, or can be of benefit to us, more than others. I imagine you would find most in Harad know nothing of this Prince and care little of him. Yet in Gondor and Rohan he is held in high esteem and is well loved." Alcandir paused long enough to urge his horse back into a gallop. "Let us hurry Medero, I would like to finish this job as soon as is possible."

The pair rode long after the sun had begun to rise and stopped only when the heat had become unbearable. They rested in the shelter of the tents until they could once again feel a decrease in the temperature and set off again, a lot sooner than was common for the desert land.

Conversation between the two was casual and did not venture to the topic of their journey any more after their initial discussion. There were long moments of comfortable silence where both were lost deep in thought.

Alcandir’s good mood of the night before had vanished and he thought more about his desire to put this job well behind him. He ran scenarios through his head of what would happen once they reached Marek and the more he thought the more he began to realize the odds were stacked against him. King Elessar must truly despise me to send me on such an ill-fated quest. I will be lucky to get myself out of Harad alive.

It wasn’t difficult to see Marek when it appeared on the horizon. The city lights were like a beacon to travelers and they were the only thing for as far as the eye could see. He could sense Medero tense next to him and noticed that he had slowed his horse down slightly.

Stopping his own horse, Alcandir turned to Medero once more. "Will you be all right in there Medero? Neither of us can afford for you to make an error."

Medero reflected for a moment and then turned his eyes to Alcandir. "I will be fine old friend. Let us go in there and retrieve your prey."

Alcandir gave a hesitant smile to his companion and urged his horse toward the gates of Marek.

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Legolas did not feel well. Matter of fact, he felt absolutely horrible. Considering that he hadn’t felt so great before his last visit with the Lord of Marek, this was saying something. Several times since the venom was introduced to his system someone had come to check on the elf, to see if he still lived and to bring water.

Legolas had spent most of this time lying face down to remove the pressure from the new wound. His previous injuries still plagued him and from what he could tell, in his dark cell, had not started to heal properly. His knee still felt inflamed and the dagger wounds to his shoulder and lower back continued to bleed. Various other smaller injuries nagged for his attention as well.

The venom seemed to escalate everything that he felt. There were moments where the pain that he felt would intensify, feeling almost as though a bolt of lightening were shooting through him. His head pounded so loud that he couldn’t hear much over the pulsing, but those sounds that did break through were amplified to the point that it hurt the elf’s ears causing him to wince and shy away from the source of the noise.

The heat of the sweatbox was affecting him constantly now rather than intermittently and his body was caked in mud formed from the dirt off his cell floor and the perspiration he produced.

Not for the first time did Legolas think about giving up. He was alone here now, the others had all gone, there was no one to protect anymore. The pain would go away as well and he could find peace if he just stopped fighting. He could go to the Halls of Waiting and nothing could hurt him again. The idea was so tempting.

He couldn’t hear the rattling outside of his cell this time but the bang of the door opening shook him to the very core. He raised his head and pushed and twisted himself into a sitting position. An unfamiliar face lurked in the tiny doorway and surveyed the Prince. His face was unreadable and Legolas did not know what to expect from this man. Reaching down to his waist, the man grabbed a water skin from his belt and handed it to the golden elf.

With a trembling hand Legolas took the waterskin and slowly pressed the opening to his lips. He took a small drink, all the while watching the man out of the corner of his eye. The water felt miraculous on his lips and tongue. He could feel the coolness as the liquid rolled down his throat. He took several more swallows and then quickly dumped the rest of the water onto the skirt of his robes trying to make it look to be an accident.

The man took the skin from Legolas and then scooted back out the doorway, sealing and locking the door behind him. As soon as the door was closed and the light was gone Legolas pulled his soaked robe and tore several long, wet strips. Moving quickly before the strips could dry, the elf began to cleanse his wounds. The cool, dampness was therapeutic in itself.

The process of cleaning and bandaging what wounds he could reach was grueling and long, the wounds to his back were difficult to tend to and the strain in reaching and twisting tired the elf out quickly. But with every new application of care Legolas found himself being refreshed enough to tend to the next injury.

He took the remaining strips, save one, and bound them tightly around his knee. Leaning back into a corner, he rested his head against the wall and lay the final strip across his brow. He would not quit fighting. It was not in him to give up. He had never given up on anything and he wasn’t about to start now.

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Alcandir was calm, he wasn’t pretending. He could tell the difference between one with confidence and one who was acting and he expected no less from the Lord of Marek. Kalen was no scholar, but he was no fool either. He was worldly and suspicious and those two traits had gotten him far indeed.

Walking up the stairs of the palace, Alcandir told himself again why he was here. He glanced quickly over to Medero and could tell he was doing the same thing. Medero looked nervous and he had reason to be. If this mission failed then he would have to face the King of Gondor, if it succeeded Kalen would order all of Marek’s guards to hunt him down.

Alcandir was not quite so nervous, he did not plan to come back to Harad after this trip and he knew that Kalen could not send his men into Gondor. None of that mattered though because Alcandir had no intention of going home empty handed. He would not stand in front of his King and his Steward and all of the elves left in Middle Earth and tell them he had failed. It was not an option.

Entering the great hall, Kalen stood out in the crowd. Alcandir had never seen a man so large and gaudy in his entire existence. His robe was a shade of purple that practically glowed due to its brightness and the man had more jewelry adorning his body than a dwarf had in his caverns. Oddly enough, there was a long cut on the side of Kalen’s face and Alcandir smiled to himself as he imagined who may have gifted the Lord with such a unique trait.

"So soon you return to my great city Medero, were you not pleased with your payment?" Kalen had a tinge of laughter in his voice as though he dared Medero to voice displeasure.

"Nay my Lord." Medero answered with a slight bow. "I thought you might be interested in making a little money yourself."

Kalen looked interested now. He raised his eyebrows as an invitation for Medero to continue.

"I would like to present to you Alcandir. He has a business proposition for you." Medero paused to see if Kalen would accept his guest and then motioned for Alcandir to proceed.

Alcandir stepped forward and bowed deeply. "My compliments my Lord, for you have a truly great city and a great city most definitely has a great and just Lord."

Kalen’s smile deepened and Alcandir continued. "However, you are too scholarly to be fooled by trivial compliments so I will get straight to the meaning of my visit today." Kalen seemed to press his shoulders back and stand a little taller at Alcandir’s remarks and the bounty hunter knew he had done well.

"Medero here has informed me that you recently made a rather large purchase from him. I am quite interested in purchasing one of the creatures from you and I am willing to pay you rather well." Alcandir paused to survey the result of his offer.

Kalen dipped his chin and cleared his throat. "It seems that Medero has been generous with his knowledge." He lifted his chin and looked to Medero, waiting until the slave runner dropped his eyes to the floor, then turned his attention to Alcandir. "I do not know you, why would you be so bold as to assume that I would do any type of business with you?"

"Because you are a shrewd businessman and would welcome the chance to make extra money." Alcandir’s response came quickly, he had no desire to show any type of hesitation in Kalen’s presence.

"I feel as though you have me at a disadvantage Alcandir, you seem to know more of me than I do of you. I suppose Medero has detailed to you of those that I own?"

Alcandir held his expression flat and unreadable. "Yes my Lord. He has told me of their physical appearance. Although I would be most interested in purchasing all of them from you, I do not think that you would agree. Medero has informed me of a golden elf in your possession. I would give you the price of all four for just that one."

Kalen seemed to ponder this offer closely and it was obvious that the large man was weighing the pros and cons of such a deal. "Why do you not just pay Medero to retrieve some for you?"

Alcandir had prepared himself for such a question and hoped that his answer would satisfy the Lord of Marek. "It is a lengthy endeavor and I need one now for work that cannot wait."

Kalen held the bounty hunter’s gaze for a brief moment then turned and walked over to one of his guards. A homely, dark man with narrowed eyes, the two exchanged whispered words and the guard nodded his head several times. The large Lord of Marek then turned back to his guests and with his head lowered and shaking back and forth, walked toward them.

"I am sorry to inform you that you are too late. I have just been informed that the golden elf you seek has passed. Early this evening in fact. One of my guards went to take him food and water and found him unmoving in his quarters. The other three elves did not agree with the work requested and succumbed to the stress earlier in the week, so it looks as though you have traveled to my fair city for naught."

Alcandir’s face fell and he held Kalen’s eyes for a long moment. "If that is the case my Lord, than I apologize for this interruption and take my leave. Medero and I have much business to discuss and we need to find shelter from the sun." Without so much as a pause for breath, Alcandir turned on his heel and with Medero obediently in tow, exited the palace.

As soon as the pair was out of earshot, Kalen motioned to Nolir, "Follow them and when you are well out of the city, kill them."

Chapter 19 - A New Day

Twisting and churning had once again consumed Legolas’ stomach. The sensation had become such a regular occurrence that he had forgotten what it was like to not feel queasy. As he began to retch and his eyes began to water, the elf tried to still the motion that his throbbing head was contributing to his discomfort.

Along with the throbbing and pounding of his head, which had resulted in his difficulty hearing, and the loss of sight due to the complete lack of light, Legolas had begun to feel numb in his hands and feet. He had tried to determine if this was another effect of the venom or if it was a result of prolonged immobility but his mind and body were too fatigued to give it substantial thought.

Water had been brought earlier and Legolas had attempted his routine of cleaning and tending his wounds, but soon after the guard left, the heaving had started. With every retch, the elf’s mouth would fill with a tinny substance, which Legolas quickly identified as blood and despair had once again began to creep into Legolas’ heart.

Slumped in his usual corner, Legolas began to tremble more violently and he slowly fell to his side resting on his injured shoulder. His eyelids began to feel heavy and Legolas could sense his consciousness slipping. He had come to fear sleep for the deeper darkness it brought. Yet his body craved the rest. It was a losing battle between body and soul with no seeming end and his heart ached at the prospect of giving up one for the other.

He had not the energy for the action of a stressed sigh, for the decision had been made that if his body had been broken he would fight to keep his mind in tact. A song of many years back repeated over and over in his mind as Legolas fell into sleep.

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Aragorn woke with a start. He had actually been able to fall asleep for longer than an hour and instantly guilt overwhelmed him for finding rest when he knew his friend could not. For many weeks worry over Legolas had prevented him from quieting his mind long enough for rest. Faramir had suggested a sedative so that the King could get some well needed sleep but Aragorn had refused stating that he needed to be coherent if there was any word from Alcandir.

Fatigue had finally caught up with him this night and when he lay down next to Arwen he was lulled into sleep by the soft, rhythmic breathing of the woman he loved.

Then he had started to dream. Strange dreams were not unusual for Aragorn. Often he dreamed about the goings on in Gondor. There were even times when Aragorn would dream about the occurrences of those he held dear who still dwelt in Middle Earth. There were many times he had dreamt of the Shire and the hobbits or had visions of Gimli in the Glittering Caves and these dreams brought comfort to the King. Sometimes Aragorn was able to extract important information from what he had dreamt, seeing things before they happened. But most of the time he just had average dreams that came from an overactive day or a heavy meal.

This dream fell into the first category. Aragorn had dreamed of Legolas. That his friend was trapped and hurt and pleading with Aragorn to help him. Aragorn couldn’t see the elf. He could just hear him quietly asking the King to hurry and telling him that he couldn’t hold on for much longer. In his dream world Aragorn had run down long halls and through thick woods in search of Legolas but no matter where or how hard he searched he couldn’t reach him. Legolas’ pleas had softened and gotten more difficult to hear and eventually they had stopped entirely.

When Aragorn started out of his sleep he found himself sitting upright staring to the open doorway of his balcony. He had waken Arwen with his abrupt movement and she had instantly began speaking soothingly to him in an attempt to console him and urge him to go back to sleep. Aragorn tried to force his mind to quiet and do as his wife encouraged but each time he closed his eyes Legolas’ face would appear before him, begging him for help.

Unable to ease his discomfort he climbed out of bed and padded out onto his balcony and directed his gaze to the South. The helplessness that Aragorn had been feeling since learning of Legolas’ abduction was becoming more overwhelming each day that the elf was gone. He wondered if Alcandir had discovered anything of Legolas’ location. He had thought, even prayed, that perhaps they were already on their way home. His heart would have a momentary respite at the imagined picture of Legolas riding home to safety in the company of Alcandir and the other four elves.

This recent dream had dispelled that hope however and fear had once again began to consume the Kings conscious mind.

With the knowledge that he had just received, the former ranger was starting to feel that maybe it was time to take the next step. He didn’t really believe that he had given Alcandir enough time to complete the job set out for him but Aragorn was never one to sit back and wait for things to be done for him.

His mind made up, Aragorn quietly slipped back into the sleeping quarters he shared with Arwen and began to put a pack together. When he had moved into the Citadel in Minas Tirith, one of the maids had become overzealous in her work and had disposed of Aragorn’s old ranger gear. But the King had asked that some new clothes of similar style be put together for traveling purposes. Aragorn dressed in the dark leggings and tunic and slung his pack over his shoulder then went to Arwen’s side to explain to her what he had decided.

Arwen opened her eyes to the slight jostling that Aragorn had given to wake her and she knew immediately what was on his mind.

"When do you leave?" she asked, a hint of sorrow in her voice.

"As soon as I can assemble some of the guard to escort me." Aragorn looked into Arwen’s eyes. Love and understanding shown so distinctly there that Aragorn was comforted in his decision. "I have to know Arwen."

Arwen placed her fingers over Aragorn’s mouth to silence him. "I understand my Love. I would go with you if you would allow it." A slight smile appeared on her face and Aragorn leaned in and gave her a loving kiss.

He rose then and exited the room. It was time for him to wake Gimli and the others. There were plans to be made and Aragorn wanted to leave at first light.

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Alcandir and Medero ducked into the first open door they came to after leaving the palace. The visit hadn’t gone as well as the bounty hunter had hoped, but it had gone like he had anticipated. He didn’t believe that Kalen would just hand Legolas over to him. He was surprised, however, that the large man had even admitted to having the elves in his possession.

He in no way believed that all of the elves were dead. He knew that Kalen was just trying to get rid of them and would most likely send his guards after them to make sure that the two never returned to Marek.

"The sun will be rising shortly. You should leave for Sadral immediately." Alcandir informed Medero.

Raising his right eyebrow in curiosity, Medero questioned the bounty hunter. "What are you going to do?"

Alcandir did not hesitate to answer, mock confidence flowed from him. "I am going to wait until Kalen’s guards follow you out of the city and then I am going to go back into the palace a retrieve the elf."

"Are you mad?"

"Many’s the time that I have been told I am, but I still do not believe it." Alcandir grasped Medero by the shoulders and forced him to look into his face. "You know as well as I that Kalen has lied. Prince Legolas is not dead and I am in doubt about the death of the others. If you leave Marek now, you will have a head start on Kalen’s men and they will stop pursuing you as soon as the sun begins to rise. They cannot harm you once you reach Sadral, it is not within their jurisdiction. You will be safe, but you must go now."

"What will you do once you rescue the elves?"

"That is dependant on how many remain and their physical state. I doubt that Kalen has been a gracious host." Alcandir turned Medero once more, this time away from him and gave him a light shove. "Now go. It will do neither of us any good if you are caught."

Medero took off at a run, staying close to the buildings and sparing glances over his shoulder every few yards. Alcandir watched his old friend go until he could no longer see him, memories of old times flitting across the bounty hunter’s sight as his old friend disappeared from sight. A slight sense of pride filled him at the return of honor to one he, himself, valued.

Alcandir stood, completely motionless, his body pressed tightly against the wall where the two had moments earlier held council. His mind raced with the possibilities of what would happen once he reentered the palace in search of the missing elf. Doubt weighed heavily on him over the prospect of locating Legolas and the others and safely removing them from their captor. Scenario after scenario played over and over again. Would the elves be heavily guarded? Were they incapacitated? Perhaps one or two were actually dead. How would he, one man, remove four, possibly injured elves, on his own.

Alcandir was roused from his concerned, doubt filled thoughts by the tromping of many hoofed feet. He pressed himself harder into the stone wall and watched as roughly twenty men, dressed in the colors of the Marek guard, rode by on horseback. The troupe headed swiftly down the street and once again Alcandir’s eyes could not be removed from their departing forms until they were far out of site.

Leaving the safety of the darkened doorway, Alcandir quickly dashed up the street back toward the palace walls. Slamming into the wall, just missing the watchful eye of the gate guard, Alcandir began to slide along the wall away from the main gate. His back slid across the marble of the walls soundlessly as he moved further from the gate.

When he felt he was out of site of the gate guards, Alcandir jumped up and grasped the top of the wall, quietly thanking Kalen for his arrogance and not building a higher wall. He hoisted himself up onto the top of the wall and peered inside the palace grounds searching out any guards who might be patrolling the grounds.

The guards patrolling the grounds moved in a well distinguished routine. Alcandir watched them for several minutes and was easily able to determine the timing between each rotation. Six guards were circling around the palace, three going in each direction. Two would pass directly in front of Alcandir every minute, leaving plenty of time to cross the distance between the gate and the palace entrance.

Alcandir patiently waited until two of the guards passed, stopping long enough to exchange some type of joke, then dropped silently to the ground inside the gate and wasting no time he sprinted across the courtyard and up the palace steps. Once inside the palace he stopped long enough to gain his bearings, taking special note of the direction the palace entrance faced, then moved down the hall in the direction of the great hall.

Alcandir pulled up just short of the doors to the hallway where he had been introduced to the large Lord of Marek. Footsteps approaching from an adjoining hallway could be heard and the bounty hunter pulled a knife from his boot and awaited the approach of the noise maker. He slid his muscular body partially behind a large, marble statue in hopes of keeping his presence hidden. The stone sword of the old, now deceased, Marek leader pressed into his back causing the bounty hunter to tense at the irony of his position.

A petite form stepped around the corner and came face to face with Alcandir. She stopped and her eyes roved over the bounty hunter, resting for a moment on the knife. She then lowered her head and resumed her original path as though she had never seen the intruder.

Alcandir spared no time to wonder on the unusual behavior of the lady, but gently pushed open the doors leading to the great hall and stuck his head inside. The room was devoid of any life, the emptiness allowing the doors to echo loudly through the large room. He froze, listening for any other sound, then slipped back out, quietly closing the door and resumed his quest further down the main hallway to the next door.

Through the door Alcandir could hear someone moving around inside this next room. Gripping his knife a little tighter he swung the door open and quickly stepped inside.

There, to his amazement, was the Lord of Marek. The large man was groping a young maid who was about a third his size and looked terrified and appalled. Her eyes met Alcandir’s and before she could inform her assaulter of the bounty hunter’s presence, Alcandir grabbed Kalen by the hair and placed the blade of his knife to Kalen’s large throat.

The snide voice of the large man quavered in fear. "How dare you..."

"How dare I?" Alcandir interrupted, shooing the girl out of the room. "She is but a child."

"What do you want? Is she your relation?" Alcandir had to stop himself from holding his breath as Kalen’s body odor assaulted his senses.

"Take me to the elf prince."

The large man attempted to turn his body in order to look at this new threat, but Alcandir vastly out muscled the man and his attempts were in vain.

"He is dead. I already told you." Kalen’s voice was now holding an air of uncertainty and even the untrained ear could detect the lie in his tone.

"You lie." Alcandir pressed the knife to Kalen’s throat even harder drawing a faint line of blood. "I know that he is here and I know he lives. Take me to him now or I will save us both the trouble and kill you now and find him myself."

Kalen hesitated for only a moment and then began to slowly move toward the doorway. He led Alcandir back past the great hall then out of the palace and down the large stairs. They had fortunately seemed to exit the palace just after a guard crossing, for the courtyard was empty. Kalen made a slight right turn and headed across the courtyard and Alcandir’s eyes fell on a series of small boxes lined up on the far side of the courtyard. Instantly he knew where Legolas was being held and he felt sick at the notion of what he might find.

"How long has he been in there?" Shock and, something Alcandir didn’t expect to feel, fear, coursed through him.

"I do not recall." The large man said with a malicious grin on his face.

The sweat boxes were not being guarded and this enforced Alcandir’s belief that many of the available guards had left in pursuit of him and Medero. They stopped in front of one of the boxes and Kalen pointed, not saying a word.

"Open it." The bounty hunter ordered. "Do not do anything stupid. I am in a sour mood and will not hesitate to kill you."

Kalen bent over and loosened the chain holding the door in place, the loud cracking of his weight strained knees pierced the stressful quiet. Then, using great force, he pulled on the door. The heavy door fell back and Alcandir could see the booted feet of the one lying inside. The tiny box where the elf was forced to reside was dark and Alcandir felt his heart lurch at the idea of being confined in such a constricting room. He felt his own panic rising and had to quickly remind himself what he was doing there and force himself under control.

"Now, very, VERY, gently, remove the Prince and lay him on the ground just there." Alcandir pointed to a spot just outside of the sweatbox, his voice left no room for argument and Kalen moved quickly to obey.

The Lord of Marek first nudged Legolas’ foot. When he received no response he grabbed a foot in each hand and began to pull the elf from the box.

Alcandir thought he was going to be sick when he saw the elf. His hair no longer appeared blonde, but was brown with dirt and old blood. The garments that the elf was dressed in had been pushed around his wasted exposing a bare and marred chest. There was a large, inflamed hole in his right upper chest just below his shoulder blade. His ribs were clearly visible through stretched skin and Alcandir wondered how long it had been since the elf had last eaten.

Alcandir could see various cuts and bruises over the elf’s face, head and chest and his left knee was wrapped and appeared swollen. The elf shook violently and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Tell me of the injuries that I cannot see. When was the last time he ate? Have you administered any poison?" Alcandir’s eyes never left Legolas, but he was fully aware of where Kalen was and what he was doing.

"I am afraid that I do not know what has happened to him. He was just fine when he was placed in the sweatbox. He was extremely agitated, I believe the wounds are self inflicted." The smug, faint smile never left Kalen’s face as he spoke.

"Where are the other elves?"

"They are all dead." He answered firmly. " This I promise you." Kalen paused, his eyes flipping back and forth from his captor to his captured and Alcandir felt a slight sense of glee when a line of sweat appeared on the large man’s face with this next question. "What are you going to do with me? You will never leave the city alive."

"I have half a mind to take you back to Gondor and turn you over to the Prince’s friends and people, but I do not think I could stomach your company for length of time it will take to return." Alcandir turned now to survey the large man. The sweat on Kalen’s brow seemed almost to scream out to the bounty hunter and the answer became very apparent. Using the tip of his dagger to point, Acandir motioned to the large man. "Inside! I believe it is time that you experience your own hospitality."

Kalen’s mouth fell open and he looked at the bounty hunter in disbelief. "I will surely die if you make me get in there."

"Aww, you are breaking my heart. IN!" Alcandir shoved the man in the direction of the door and as Kalen slowly climbed inside Alcandir lifted his foot and shoved the man in by his backside. He then lifted the heavy door into place and bound the chains locking the large man inside. "Farewell, Lord Kalen, enjoy your stay."

Alcandir dropped to his knees next to Legolas and began to search for signs of life. The elf was running a fever and his skin was hot and dry. The elf had stopped producing sweat which was a sure sign of dehydration. The blood trickling out of his mouth caused Alcandir to believe he had been administered some type of poison. But, the elf still drew breath and his heart still beat.

Alcandir, reached into his pack and pulled out an extra tunic and gently slid it over Legolas head. He then took out a bandage, wet it then wrapped it around the elf’s head, binding the coolant in place with a large knot. He wished to administer more medical care to the elf but he knew that he had to clear out of the courtyard.

Scooping the elf into his arms, surprised by his light weight, Alcandir began to move, as quickly as possible without excessively jostling Legolas, across the courtyard into the direction of the stables. He moved with seeming ease, his charge pressed tightly to his chest as his eyes continuously scanning the courtyard for any signs of threat.

Entering the stables, without incident, he set the elf prince on the stable floor and quickly inspected the horses. He had left Mithril outside of the palace gates and knew he wouldn’t be able to return to him without raising suspicion.

Alcandir saddled a horse that he deemed healthy and strong then went to a stack of supplies at the far end of the stables. He pulled out a large pack, which he recognized as a tent, and fastened it to the horses back. He then located several extra water skins and quickly filled them. He hurriedly picked through the other supplies and then tying the new provisions to the horses saddle, he led the horse over to the elf and scooped Legolas up once more placing him gently on the horse and climbing up behind. He cradled Legolas in his arms like a small child, thinking that it would be the most comfortable means of travel. Alcandir draped a large, horse blanket over the elf in hopes of keeping him hidden from curious eyes then gave the horse a kick.

They used alleys and back streets to get out of Marek. Several times they were forced to stop as the sound of Marek Guards were heard moving about the city. The venture from palace to gates was long and tense and even though Alcandir hoped that Legolas was well, he found himself quietly praying that the elf would remain asleep until they were safely away from Marek, the sounds of a rousing, ill being would assuredly rouse suspicion.

As they cleared the city gates, Alcandir tightened his grip on his precious, unconscious cargo and urged his horse into a gallop. Shouts from the guards at the main gates to Marek could be heard as the two rode into the desert. The first orange and pink rays were beginning to peak over the horizon as a new day dawned on the bounty hunter and the elf.

Chapter 20 - Urgent Haste

Aragorn was elated to finally be doing something. Moving closer to Harad was generally something that most people, in their right mind, tried everything in their power to avoid. Those who were actually headed toward the South lands were rarely happy to be doing so. But the King of Gondor was quite pleased with idea of pushing toward the desert, in fact, he was ecstatic.

So it was, with a small smile upon his face, that he had set about gathering together those who would be accompanying him on this personal mission. A mission that he had been eager to embark on for several weeks now.

He had been hesitant, at first, to ask any of his men to accompany him toward Harad. Mentally he had run through a list of men he thought might be willing to escort him. It had come as quite a shock when the first man approached, a young guard by the name of Tineth, had nearly jumped at the opportunity.

"You are not afraid of the South Lands?" Aragorn had asked out of curiosity.

"I would be a fool to not be afraid My Lord." Tineth answered without hesitation. "But I am honored that you have selected me to accompany you on such an important mission and I am sure you will find the same of others you choose to join you. Prince Legolas is well liked and respected. His loss weighs heavily on you, therefore, it weighs heavily on us all."

Legolas had become a regular visitor to Gondor and the Elf Prince had been with Aragorn on many a hunting trip or diplomatic mission since the fall of Sauron. It hadn’t taken long for these trips to develope the habit of turning into more of a "bachelor’s weekend" where the ale flowed and wild joking was ensured. Each member of the royal guard had been enlisted for such journeys on one occasion or another and they had become an increasingly popular means of relaxation while still in the service of the King.

Aragorn smiled as he remembered some of the various practical jokes which had been played on unsuspecting members of the Royal Guard then turned his attention back to the young guard. "Thank you Tineth. Perhaps you could select several more guard members who you think might be up to the task." He paused long enough to note a nod of Tineth’s head. "Order them to dress in their regular hunting wear, uniform will not be appropriate for this mission. We will meet in the stables in one hour."

Aragorn gave one final bow to the guardsman then turned on his heel. It was time to find the dwarf.

Gimli hadn’t been too difficult to locate at this time of morning. The dwarf had been in his sleeping quarters, lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Aragorn obviously hadn’t been the only one to have sleep elude him these past weeks.

Aragorn had saved himself the trouble of knocking to gather Gimli’s attention, rather he flung the door open and strode across the large room, stopping at the foot of the dwarf’s bed. "Well, what are you waiting for Master Dwarf, we have an Elf to rescue."

Gimli flew from the bed so quickly that Aragorn could have sworn some of Legolas’ reflexes had worn off on the stout creature. "Wha? Me? Why you!" His gruff voice echoed through the near vacant room as he hurriedly moved about collecting his axes and gear. "Let’s get a move on!"

The pair raced through the halls of the citadel gathering items needed for their journey and shouting orders to aids and maids. So engrossed in their work were they that the appearance of Eomer and Faramir caught them entirely off guard.

"Leaving without us?" Eomer’s deep, commanding voice brought Aragorn from his work.

Both had immediately volunteered to join the troupe and were eager to do so. Eomer was readily accepted, but Aragorn had asked Faramir to stay and look after the city in his absence. Faramir was not happy with this request, he wanted to go after his friend and ensure his safety and it was with a heavy heart that he agreed to the King’s demand.

The trio had barely approached Angrod’s quarters when his door swung open to reveal the dark elf. He was packed and dressed for travel. Aragorn could see that he had been anticipating a visit that morning and assumed it was due to the absurd amount of noise that was being made within the Citadel.

"It is good that we leave soon, for I grow tired of waiting." His words were not meant to be sharp, nor were they perceived as such. All of those riding out toward Harad felt the same as the dark elf and the hour of preparation seemed to take as long as the proceeding weeks of waiting that had already passed.

The group of seventeen men, one dwarf and an elf had departed Minas Tirith before dawn. The two kings, dwarf and elf lead the men but were flanked on either side by members of the Royal Guard. If one were to see the group, they would not suspect an important mission or the presence of royalty there. The troupe had the appearance of a normal hunting party.

They had been on the road barely an hour when Aragorn was approached regarding his change of mind.

"What happened Aragorn? Yesterday you reiterated the need for patience, yet today you wake us before the sun even rises."

Aragorn wasn’t sure which of the three asked the question. Since departing the White City his dream had been repeating within his mind. "I dreamt of Legolas last night." He explained to three intent faces. "He had pleaded with me to come, that he could hold on no longer." He paused, his voice catching in his throat. "I could not reach him. I could only hear him."

"You think he lives?" Angrod’s melodic voice pulled Aragorn’s attention, so like Legolas’ was it and the King found himself straining to maintain eye contact with the dark elf. How to answer such an impossible question?

"I pray to the Valar that he is. I do not feel that Alcandir has had enough time to locate our friend, but I fear he is running out of time."

No verbal response followed Aragorn’s explanation. He noted that Gimli, who was seated behind Eomer, tightened his hold on the King of Rohan’s arm and shifted his dark gaze to the southern horizon.

Angrod’s eyes bored into the King, searching deeper for something within Aragorn. The elf then urged his horse into a gallop and was followed shortly by Eomer and Gimli. Aragorn hesitated for a mere moment, watching his friends ride toward danger. Toward rescue.

Hold on my friend. We are coming.

****************************************************************************

Alcandir had ridden well into the morning before deciding to take shelter from the sun. He had inwardly debated this decision. He knew that he needed to get as far from Marek as possible but he also needed to render aid to Legolas.

The elf had not stirred since Alcandir had found him. He had ridden quietly in front of the bounty hunter, nestled safely against his chest, motionless. Several times Alcandir had felt for a pulse, checked for breathing and tested the temperature of the elf’s skin. There seemed to be no change and he was anxious to get Legolas back to Gondor.

When the sun had risen well into the sky, Alcandir stopped his horse and dismounted. He then slowly slid the elf down off of his horse and carried him away from the animal.

He marveled, once again, at the light weight of the elf and found himself standing, staring at the pale face of the damaged being. He looked not like royalty at this moment. Disheveled and marred, how could this be the same elf he had heard stories about? How could this be the same Prince who held such a large place within the King and Queen of Gondor’s hearts? Gently he laid Legolas onto the sand and stood, hovering over the frail creature. How could this be the one that he had been ordered to risk his life for?

Alcandir shook his head harshly and forced the doubting thoughts from his mind. There was much to be done and he would not allow himself to be swept away by his uncertainty.

The walls of the tent were easily removed by unfastening several buttons and Alcandir set about doing this. He wanted to have a clear view in all directions of the desert so that he could see any approaching parties and threats. Legolas was well shaded beneath the roof of the tent and Alcandir set about making a fire as far from him as possible. He would need to warm water for teas and cleaning bandages but knew that any additional heat would do the elf no good.

Setting a pot of water over the flames, he then turned his attention to the unconscious elf. In the light of the day Alcandir was able to better see the elf’s state. Legolas’ skin was pale and although Alcandir knew that a common trait of elves was fair skin tone, the elf prince looked almost transparent. The elf’s legendary golden hair was blackened by dirt and blood bringing out the paleness of his skin even more. Dark circles encompassed his sunken eyes and his lips were cracked and tinted brown by dry blood.

How can you be the one I was sent to retrieve?

Alcandir dripped water into Legolas’s mouth and was pleased when he responded with movement of his lips, it was the only movement he had seen from the elf thus far and his normally impassive heart leapt. He then pulled a small pack of berries from his larger pack and placed them into a bowl. Using the hilt of his knife he began to smash the berries.

He paused several times during his task to drain the juice and place a berry into his own mouth. The sweetness allowing a slight smile to appear on his usually stoic face. He then dripped a small amount of the juice into the elf’s mouth, once again allowing the movement to fill his heart with hope. He continued alternating between water and berry juice as he waited for the water to boil.

He didn’t want to overwhelm the elf’s system after such a long period without sustenance, but he knew that Legolas would not heal without the nourishment. When the water finally began to boil, Alcandir poured the liquid over some herbs that he had brought with him. He knew when he had accepted this job that there was a great chance that the elf would be battered when he found him. He did not, however, expect his condition to be as dire as it was.

Alcandir spent the next couple of hours cleaning the elf prince’s wounds and dripping the three liquids into his mouth. He was not shocked to find two more serious wounds in his ministrations. There was a long, infected slash across Legolas’ lower back that had been neglected for some time. There was also an interesting knife wound to his right shoulder blade. This wound had turned a grayish, almost black color and the discoloration was spreading from the wound creating tentacles of discoloration across the elf’s back.

He has been poisoned, but by what? Will you not wake and tell me?

"Tell me what has happened to you. Tell me that I have the correct elf in my possession. Please tell me something." The bounty hunter pleaded quietly.

After thoroughly cleaning the open wounds and re-bandaging the swollen knee, Alcandir lay down next to the elf and tried to get some rest of his own. He hadn’t planned on sleeping, just settling down and resting his muscles and mind. He felt comfortable that no one would approach during the peak hours of the day so he allowed his eyes to close and his body to relax.

It was with great shock and self-reproach that he was awoken shortly thereafter by the mumbling of the unconscious elf. The prince was speaking incoherently in a language Alcandir could only identify as some type of elvish. He had heard it spoken on several occasions but could not speak it himself.

He replaced the cool cloth over Legolas’ brow and managed to drip some more of the herbal tea between the elf’s cracked lips. The ministration seemed to help and Legolas quieted again, falling back into a deep slumber just as the sun was beginning to slip below the horizon.

"Well Prince, I think that we will be safe for the night. Get some rest. You are in good hands now." The elf didn’t respond to Alcandir’s words and with a heavy sigh the bounty hunter resettled himself for a long night. He wouldn’t allow himself to rest again, night was not a safe time in the desert and his eyes would not leave the southern horizon.

****************************************************************************

Nolir rode back into the courtyard at a fast pace just after midnight. He was angry and frustrated. He had managed to catch up with the slave trader but was dismayed to see that his friend had not accompanied him out of the city.

It hadn’t taken much encouragement to get the man, known as Medero, to disclose to him that his friend was actually from Gondor, on a mission to rescue the golden elf. Nolir had been angered by this revelation and had taken his frustration and displeasure out forcefully on the slaver.

The Captain of Marek had been holding in much anger and disdain over the past several weeks. He had been frustrated by Kalen’s denial of his wish to force information from the Elf Prince. It was information that they had both been seeking for many years. Research and study had begun to reveal to them the endurance of the elves and the possibility of great income from the mysterious creatures. To have the information they needed so close and unattainable had tormented the man both day and night. Kalen’s seeming, sudden lack of interest had incited fury.

So, when Nolir was presented with a method of venting his frustration, he did so thoroughly.

Medero had held on a lot longer than Nolir had expected of one so easily turned, but in the end the traitorous man had succumbed to his beating and his battered body was left to the mercy of the rising sun. Nolir hadn’t been easy on the slave runner though, and if the man were lucky enough to make it back to Sadral alive, he would not do so without permanent disfigurement. It was no worry of his however, Medero had told him what he needed to know, what happened to him now concerned Nolir very little.

When he arrived at the palace, after spending a day in search of the two men, he was shocked to find palace staff and guards rushing about frantically. He jumped from his horse and stared, in shock, at the disorganization and frantic nature of the courtyard. Nolir pulled himself together and grabbed the first person who had the mishap of passing by him.

"What is going on here?" He shouted to the distraught aid.

"Lord Kalen is missing sir. He has not been seen since early this morn. One of the maids claims that he was taken at knife point. A man was seen fleeing the city soon afterward" The aid was speaking in rushed panic and Nolir had to concentrate to pick up everything he was being told.

Taken at knife point? Who in their right mind would...?

His thoughts stopped short. "ARGH! I should have suspected!" He shouted over the commotion in the courtyard.

Those rushing around him stopped momentarily to investigate the source of the outburst, then hastily returned to their search for the Lord of Marek.

Nolir grabbed the unfortunate aid tighter by the arm. "Imbecile!" His fist then slammed into the man’s jaw sending him tumbling to the ground. He lay there, huddled in a ball as Nolir stared down at him, searching his mind for any possible ideas.

It was as though a light went off in his head. "Of course." came the whispered response to his own query. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly what was going on.

The tall Captain flew across the courtyard, shouting at staff to get out of his way as he moved. His destination was clearly in sight and he knew once he reached the sweatbox all of his suspicions would be confirmed. He ripped the chain from the elf’s box, adrenaline surging through him as he yanked the door open. Nolir knew before he even looked inside what he would find and he called for two guards standing nearby, ordering them to remove Lord Kalen’s body.

To his surprise, the large man had survived his stay in the inhospitable dwelling. However, the man’s great weight combined with the heat of the box was too much for the Lord of Marek to bear and he lay unconscious.

"HEALER!" Nolir’s shout radiated about the courtyard once more and the hurried footsteps of those around him increased their pace, many to a run.

Nolir was angry by the harm done his lord. Despite their recent disagreements regarding the elves, he was a loyal servant to Kalen and had been rewarded handsomely for his many years of employment. More so, he did not take kindly to being misled. He was humiliated that this deception had resulted in the injury of his liege.

The palace healer rushed up while Nolir checked over Kalen. Sweat poured from the large man and his extended stomach rose and fell quickly with panted breaths.

In one fluid motion, Nolir spun on his heel and rose from his crouched position, heading back in the direction of his horse. "Mount up men. We have a murderer to hunt and an elf to retrieve." Thanks to the slaver, Nolir knew which direction the man would be heading. He swung up on his horse and kicked the animal into motion. "We head North!"

Chapter 21 - Starlight

Alcandir was not able to rest for long. When the moon had reached its apex, Legolas began to stir once again. Moving quickly to the elf’s side, the man pulled the cloth from Legolas’ brow. Between the warm air of the desert surrounding them and the heat of Legolas’ skin, the cloth was now nearly dry. He re-wet the cloth and placed it back on the elf’s feverish brow.

As he pulled his hand away from the elf he was met by wide, staring eyes. The red rimmed orbs were glued to Alcandir and looked dull and empty. It was a look that the bounty hunter never wanted to see on a living being for the remainder of his life. The fear and sorrow that was reflected there was haunting.

Yet, along with the dull, empty, haunting look of the elf, there was something else . A deepness within that the bounty had never seen in another before. A rich honor, and profound morality was reflected there. It was then that Alcandir knew that his doubts and concerns were unwarranted. The one that he had pulled from the very clutches of hell, the tattered, marred individual that now lay before him, was, without a doubt, the one that he had been sent to Harad to retrieve.

Alcandir gently placed the backs of his fingers against Legolas’ cheek, the elf jerked his face away then clamped his eyes shut as though the man’ touch pained him. Wanting to ensure that Legolas knew he was safe and need not to fear him, Alcandir leaned over the elf and placed his hand back on the pale, hot cheek. He waited until Legolas opened his eyes again then spoke slowly and clearly.

"You are safe now, My Prince. No one will harm you here."

Legolas scowled slightly, a look of confusion coming over his ashen features. His cracked lips then began to move slightly as the elf Prince struggled to speak. Alcandir leaned in close, stopping with his ear mere inches above Legolas’ mouth. His breath was ragged and slow and the only words that the bounty hunter could pick out were, "Hear...No."

Alcandir smiled sadly and then rose to retrieve the tea that he had placed next to the fire to keep warm. When he turned back to face Legolas he stopped dead in his tracks. The elf was shaking, almost violently. He hurried back to his side just as the elf started to heave. Gently, he lifted Legolas and tilted him to his side to prevent him from choking. Legolas retched several more times then finally, after much strain, expelled blood over the sandy floor of the tent.

Trying to hide the shock that he felt so as not to frighten the elf, Alcandir lay him back on his back and then proceeded to clean the sticky fluid from Legolas’ face. The red of the blood contrasted dramatically with the elf’s pale skin making both starkly more severe in appearance.

"Who?" Legolas ground out between gasps for breath.

Alcandir smiled sincerely then placed his right hand over his heart and bowed his head to the elf prince. He kept his head bowed momentarily then quickly went back to tending Legolas’ injuries.

Legolas spoke again and Alcandir stopped to lean in and listen. He tilted his head so that his ear once again hovered just above the elf’s mouth. "Stars?"

Stars? What does he mean stars?

They like stars right? Does he want to see the stars? It is worth a try.

Alcandir untied the ropes that were holding the tent in place and allowed one half of the structure to fall. The sky was clear and the stars shone brightly against the black backdrop. He walked back to Legolas to see if he had guessed correctly. Already he could see that the trembling had calmed slightly and the elf seemed more at ease.

"Thank you." Legolas mouthed and Alcandir was pleased that he had interpreted the request accurately.

He sat down next to Legolas and watched him for a moment. There was a slight improvement in the golden elf’s demeanor but his appearance was still worrisome. He studied Legolas as Legolas studied the stars. A thought came to him just then and he wondered about the fate of the other elves. Had Kalen told the truth when he claimed that they were dead. He had told the bounty hunter that Legolas was dead and had obviously been lying.

Waving his hand in front of Legolas’ face to get his attention he then began to use mock sign language to ask his question. Holding up four fingers, he pointed to Legolas then pointed to one of the fingers. He paused for a moment then pointed to the remaining three fingers one at a time. Before he even finished his inquiry he was interrupted by a gasp from the shaking elf.

"Dead." Was the strained reply and tears began to form in Legolas’ tired eyes.

The pair sat in silence for a moment, Alcandir gently wiping the tears from Legolas’ face and dripping more tea into his mouth. He tried to understand the pain that Legolas was feeling. Both the physical and emotional. He was grateful that he had never had to experience what the elf prince had.

He then began to feel anger. Anger toward those who had inflicted such suffering on another and surprisingly, anger with King Elessar for sending him on this quest. He had not agreed to this sitting in the middle of the desert, administering aid to one he didn’t know. Trying to comfort one so completely heartbroken. Had the King of Gondor known that Alcandir would not be able to return this elf to his friends alive? Was he using the bounty hunter as a scape goat so that he would have someone to blame for the elf’s demise?

The trembling in Legolas’ body was increasing again and he moaned softly in pain. There was a soft whimper to follow the moan and Alcandir realized that the elf was trying to gain his attention. He propped himself on his knees and resumed his earlier position of placing his ear just above Legolas’ mouth.

He spoke slowly and the words were strained, several were unheard altogether. "I...die here." Legolas drew in a deep breath. "Please...home. ...amongst...trees. Not...this...land." There was silence for a moment as Alcandir tried to piece the words together. He was once again interrupted by a quiet moan and turned back to the Legolas again. Tears filled the elf’s blue eyes and he looked pleadingly to the bounty hunter, "Please."

Unable to look into those sorrow filled eyes any longer, Alcandir began to look around him at the surrounding desert. It was still night, but he did not know how long Legolas truly had. He, himself, could not imagine the fear that came with dying so far from home but he did understand the security that comes with being surrounded by familiar things. He nodded to the golden elf then quickly set about packing their items and strapping them to the horse. He wanted to get Legolas home so that he could be in the comfort of his friends and family when he passed. He could not allow him to draw his last breath here, alone.

Walking back over to Legolas, he raised his eyes once again to the sky. Gods, give me strength. He gently lifted his trembling charge into his arms and placed him atop the horse. He then climbed up into the saddle and positioned Legolas in front of him as he had done previously.

"Hannon...." Although only bits of the statement came out and he didn’t understand the language, the meaning was loud and clear and pulled at Alcandir’s heart.

He urged his horse into a canter just as Legolas closed his eyes and fell to sleep.

****************************************************************************

Excellent time had been made by the party from Gondor. They had been traveling all day and well into the night taking short stops to rest and water the horses. They ate atop the horses and rested themselves without dismounting as well.

Aragorn was pushing them as hard as he could without going over the edge. He finally called for a halt just after midnight and ordered camp to be set up and all in the party to get some sleep.

Sitting on a fallen log and staring into the flames of the small fire his thoughts began to drift to the dream of a few nights before. He wanted to sleep again in hopes that he might receive another dream, but he was scared of what the dream might tell him.

Aragorn was pulled from his musings by the presence of another woodland elf. Angrod sat down next to the King and began to study the fletching of one of his arrows. Aragorn could see that the dark elf had something on his mind and was searching for the appropriate words, he waited patiently with an amused smile on his face.

"How long do you plan to rest this night?" Aragorn should have suspected the elf would ask this.

"Not long, perhaps three or four hours. We will be moving again shortly." He regarded the dark elf for a moment then continued. "I am as anxious as you to see Legolas home safely."

"I am sorry My Lord. I know that you worry for the Prince." Angrod trailed off, his eyes dropping. "I promised his father that I would protect him."

The statement caught Aragorn off guard and he could hear the sorrow and fear in Angrod’s words. "You are a good friend to him."

"Would King Thranduil agree?" The question was sincere, Angrod was definitely in doubt. "The last time that King Thranduil saw Legolas before leaving for Valinor he beckoned me to a private meeting. I knew what he would ask before I saw him." The dark elf paused as though caught up in the memory. "I had been protecting the Royal Family of Greenwood since I had come of age. He bade me to protect his son in his absence. He bade me to ensure that Legolas would sail."

He fell quiet and Aragorn placed his hand on the elf’s shoulder. "Thranduil knows that you would die for Legolas if given the choice. There is no doubt in my mind that you would trade places with him right now if it were within your power."

"I have failed him. I have failed them both."

"No one has failed. We will scour all of Harad if need be, but we will bring him home. I still have not given up hope that Alcandir will succeed. Do not despair. Have hope."

Angrod lifted his brown eyes and looked deep into the King’s gray ones. Aragorn could tell that the dark elf was searching for any signs of deception or false hope. There was none. Although he feared for his dear friend, Aragorn had not given up hope yet. In his dream, Legolas still lived, and until he was shown otherwise, he would not cease his search.

"I see the sky is beginning to lighten to the east. Let us prepare to move out." The sky was, actually, still dark as a wraith and he knew that it hadn’t been the three hours that he had ordered, but Aragorn was ready to be on the road and moving South. "AWAKE!"

Sounds of waking began to emanate around the camp but there were no complaints. The party quickly packed and broke their fast with fruit and bread. They were all mounted and on the road within the hour.

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He was angry and determined. Determined to avenge Lord Kalen, but more importantly to regain his honor. The strange man, who had come to purchase the elf prince had humiliated him and he wasn’t easily deceived

He had lead great armies and commanded the guards of Marek. One did not rise to his position by being foolish.

As he rode over the sand, his horse breathless underneath him as it was pushed to the limit, Nolir laughed to himself at the stupidity of the slaver. The information he had provided was vital and the man had gained nothing in return. As a matter of fact, he had lost greatly for his betrayal, though Nolir didn’t feel the man’s life was worth that much anyway.

He would pursue them to the ends of the earth if needs be, but he would have his revenge. He would kill the strange man for harming Lord Kalen and he would kill the elf for bringing this fate upon the City of Marek.

Nolir would not quit until all was right in his world. He was gaining on them, he could feel it. He would have them in his grasp shortly and they would pay.He looked Legolas in the eyes. He was confused by the word. He began to search his memory for any hint as to what the elf had meant. Lifting his eyes and looking up in contemplation he saw the canvas covering he had erected to shield them from the sun. Subconsciously rising to his feet, his eyes fixed on the temporary ceiling, he began to remember something he had heard about elves.

Chapter 22 - Fading Luck

Legolas was still unsure of the passage of time. Before, he had spent so much time in the dark of the sweatbox that he never really knew if it was day or night. Now, between sleep and his continuing battle with maintaining consciousness, he had completely lost track of the number of days he had spent with the strange man. That he wasn’t sure how long he had been with his new companion before waking the first time, didn’t help matters. Even less helpful was his inability to communicate clearly with his surmised rescuer.

Legolas knew that the man had a checkered past, that was easy to see in his deep eyes and by the lines set around them, but he sensed no malice in him now and the elf most definitely felt safe. As well, the man was taking him back North, back toward Ithilien and Gondor, his friends and family. Whether his intent, once they arrived there, was good or bad, Legolas didn’t know. But if he was taking him away from this desolate land, a land where there were no trees to speak to him and Earendil always seemed hidden, then he would not complain about the journey.

Legolas almost started to believe that he was beginning to feel better, but he attributed that mostly to being out of the small, enclosed cell that he had spent so much time in. He could tell by the look on the man’s face, however, that he wasn’t doing as well as he had thought. The man tried to be positive and give Legolas hope with small smiles and gentle touches, but the Prince could see in his eyes that the man was doing it for his benefit.

If he stopped to take inventory of his injuries he would begin to despair and urge the man to push the horse to quicken its pace. At times it was difficult to take notice of his aching knee or stinging knife wounds, so overwhelmed was he with the throbbing of his head and trembling of his body. The earth still spun around him and he fought the queasiness that it evoked.

Quite possibly the most frustrating thing for Legolas, and presumably his companion, was the elf’s inability to hear. The pounding in his head was so loud and the pressure within was so strong that noise from without was almost completely blocked. What little sound did penetrate this barrier did so at such loud, piercing levels that it only intensified the headache that Legolas already felt.

Yet, his biggest battle came in the form of his desire to continue to fight. He could feel his life force diminishing and considered how much easier it would be to just go to Mandos’ Halls and have peace. It was the promise of returning home and taking that particular journey surrounded by the comforts that Ithilien yielded him, that kept him holding on. To pass from this world in such a hostile land was a terrifying thought.

Leaving without bidding his friends, his surrogate family, goodbye, was also something that Legolas did not care to do. Surely Angrod was blaming himself for what had occurred, that would be his father’s doing of course. Thranduil meant well, Legolas knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his father loved him. His father absolutely adored him and Legolas returned the gesture willingly. Thranduil’s assignment to Angrod when he departed Middle Earth was his way of showing the dark elf his trust and his golden son his love.

For now, as he sat nestled against this man and at his mercy, he willed the pain away and prayed his strength to endure for just a short while longer.

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Better time was being made than even Aragorn could have hoped for. Harad was so close now that even the weather had begun to advertise the harshness of the Southern lands.

The determined party of riders had left the protective covering of the trees a short ways back and there anxiety had begun to increase with the temperature. The hotter it got the closer they were and even though they hadn’t crossed the border into Harad as of yet, they knew that they were drawing near.

They had pushed on through the day, continuing their routine of taking brief stops to water the horses and stretch their own muscles. Now as the sun had begun to set and the air had begun to cool, Aragorn pushed the troupe a little bit harder.

"Just over that next rise." Angrod’s soft, sullen voice announced.

Aragorn looked questioningly at the dark elf. When has Angrod been to Harad to know that we are about to cross their border?

As though reading the King’s mind, the elf in question stated flatly, "I have been to the South lands before, I remember the way. It is just over that next hill that we will cross a line in which we may not return unchanged."

The somber mood of the party increased and Aragorn observed as expressions darkened and heads dipped. "Legolas has been deep in these unforgiving lands for many weeks now. I will do what I must to bring him home, no matter the price. My friend is worth it."

Dropped heads began to nod now and some semblance of light began to return to the travel weary group again.

"I am in agreement Aragorn and I would go with or without you at this point. I just feel it wise that everyone is aware of what might greet us." Angrod’s response was sound and unwavering and Aragorn knew the elf did not exaggerate.

"Well that is something that you do not have to worry about Angrod. We are here and we will continue and we will bring Legolas home." He knew what he said was true. He knew that he would not return from the Southlands empty handed. Legolas would be returning home.

"Then quit yapping and get moving or we will get nowhere." Gimli was shouting at the pair from the back of Eomer’s horse. "We have an elf to retrieve. Come on Eomer, get this wretched beast moving."

Aragorn let out a wispy laugh and urged his own animal into a canter. They were getting closer to Legolas even as they spoke. He could feel it.

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Another two nights journey and the going was slow. Alcandir had slowed the horse when he realized how badly the motion was irritating Legolas’ wounds. So, the horse moved at a measured and careful pace. He guided the animal around anything in their path that might jostle its passengers.

Against Legolas’ wishes, Alcandir had stopped during the day as well. He knew that the elf would need his rest after traveling through the night. Also, the daytime temperature had dipped, but not quite enough to make movement entirely comfortable beneath the sun.

Alcandir would use this time to check Legolas’ injuries and feed them both. He would also take some much needed rest himself. Legolas’ injuries had not improved, they still appeared red and inflamed and the strange wound to his shoulder blade continued to appear dark and the discoloration had spread even further from the knife hole. The prince still trembled uncontrollably and was racked with fever. Bouts of retching would still send Alcandir running to Legolas’ side, and the blood that was expelled now appeared somewhat darker in color.

The elf’s mood had improved, albeit only slightly, and his eyes seemed to shine a little brighter than when Alcandir had first seen him. The fact that the two had managed to communicate a little more using their own sign language may have helped some as well. Alcandir was frustrated that he could not answer the elf’s questions, and some words were just impossible to convey.

Alcandir had attempted to communicate to Legolas who he was and why he had come for the elf. After failing the first time he decided that it would be better left to King Elessar explain to Legolas why he had hired a bounty hunter to bring him in, so to speak. Somehow he thought that it would be an interesting conversation and he looked forward to listening in on the two.

Mostly Legolas lay with his eyes closed, either in sleep or having succumbed to the pain or sickness.

Aye, that we could only speak with each other. I am confident that I could learn a lot from you, and possibly this journey would not be quite so boring.

The unusual pair had stopped for the day soon after the sun had made a full appearance in the sky. Blue, without a single hint of white welcomed the fiery orb and discouraged all travelers from any hopes of clouded shade.

Alcandir had laid Legolas onto a blanket on the sand and erected the tent over him. The morning ritual had become so routine that he didn’t have to think about what he was doing, the motions became habit for him. After ensuring that the tent would stand, he then lit a small fire and covered it with a small pot of water. Their supply of water was beginning to run low and he had to be careful not to waste any. Once the water and shelter were taken care of Alcandir would take his usual seat next to the prone elf and set about tending to his wounds and illness.

He had managed to will himself into a light slumber and had stayed that way for a time when something pricked at his senses. Opening his dark eyes, he realized that the day had expired and the sun was almost out of view. The pink, iridescence that remained, gently lit the desert sky making it difficult but plausible to still see their surroundings.

Alcandir rose from the blanket that he shared with Legolas and scanned his environment, searching for the source of his sudden discomfort. Perhaps it was just his mind warning him that he was wasting time. Then he saw it, first it was just a slight twist on the horizon, then as he focused his attention, the twist materialized into constant movement. Men, there were men approaching from the South and they were approaching fast.

He ran to the horse and threw the saddle over its back and quickly strapped it down. Sneaking a glance back toward the approaching threat, he verified that it was definitely a large party of men.

Rushing to Legolas’ side he quickly scooped the elf up, not taking to much consideration of the elf’s injuries, causing him to moan in pain. Legolas’ eyes shot open at the motion and stared wide at Alcandir. He tried to reassure the Prince with his eyes, but was sure he had failed considering he was frantic himself.

He propped the Prince up onto the horse and swung up behind him. There was no time to collect their provisions and he cursed his luck as he kicked the horse into a run and left their camp and supplies behind. He would have to deal with that later, if they were able to outrun the men.

Holding tight to the elf, and to the reins, he held on for all that he was worth and prayed that the horse could outrun whoever it was behind them. He dare not venture a glance over his shoulder to check on their progress for fear that he would lose either himself or his charge. His focus was entirely on the horse and the path ahead.

I suppose this is my punishment for complaining of boredom. I will forevermore be thankful for a peaceful night’s sleep.

Legolas was quiet, he made not a single sound, not even to voice his discomfort at the rough ride and Alcandir suspected that the elf had lost consciousness once again. Actually, he hoped that Legolas had, the trip would be a lot easier for the elf if he had.

He could hear shouting coming from behind him, the indistinctness of it, however, told him that their pursuers were still a distance behind them but had spotted the pair. The horse would not be able to keep up its current pace much longer, especially carrying two. Although Legolas was quite light, the animal had been traveling extensively the past few days and Alcandir just hoped he could hold on long enough to discourage the party of men from continuing their pursuit.

Finally, daring a glance over his shoulder, Alcandir could now see the men more clearly, despite the lack of light. He could just make out the uniform of Marek and knew that Medero hadn’t been able to fool the guards for long and hoped that his old friend still lived. He admitted that Medero had made a foolish decision, but hoped he hadn’t paid for it with his life.

Soft whistling filled the air and Alcandir leaned forward as he realized that arrows were being fired from behind. He pressed his body tighter against Legolas’ trying to cut down on wind resistance and to protect the already hurting elf from further injury. The arrows thudded into the ground just behind them and he urged the horse harder to keep them out of range of the dangerous projectiles.

Your luck may be running out My Prince. I pray to the Gods that they will grant you with just a little bit more.

With that thought Alcandir focused his eyes ahead of him and pulled up. The horse didn’t stop running but it did slow down considerably. Alcandir’s jaw dropped, directly in front of them, just within site, another party of men rode toward them. They were surrounded. Arrows rained around them and the bounty hunter needed to do something quick. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and tightened his grip on Legolas as both parties closed in.

Chapter 23 - Flight and Fight

The exhilaration he felt as he closed in on the murderer and elf was immeasurable. Nolir was so close he could almost smell the man’s sweat, the elf’s blood. Soon he would have his revenge on the beasts who had humiliated him so.

His men, who would follow him to the very pits of Mordor, had ridden beside him without so much as a sigh of displeasure. They would not dare voice any disagreement with him because they knew that the reprimand would be swift and harsh. There was no room for argument in his regime and there was definitely no questioning of orders.

Sand sprayed up from beneath the horses hoofs and showered Nolir and his men. Wrapping their faces in dark cloth to prevent ingestion of the tiny particles was a long practiced habit in Harad and served them well in their current circumstance. They flew through the desert in pursuit of their quarry, their faces hidden and clouded in sand, they looked more like specters than a charging brigade.

Nolir pressed his horse harder in his pursuit and yelled to his men to keep pace. He shouted order upon order over his shoulder. Swords were drawn and arrows began to fly from several archers within the group. The arrows thunked into the sand just shy of their target.

Then something happened that Nolir did not anticipate. They slowed. The man they pursued slowed his horse and pulled his sword. He could not, for the life of him, understand why they had slowed. Was he planning on making a stand against twenty men? He didn’t stand a chance. Was he surrendering? He would not be taken gently.

He saw them then, another troop of men advancing from the North. They will not have you! "Faster!" he shouted again. He could not see who it was that approached but he would not be defeated in his quest for retribution.

Nolir pressed his legs into his horse then pulled out his own bow and notched an arrow. He took aim at the fleeing thief and let his arrow fly. A shout of joy rose above the other shouts as the projectile hit its mark and the man lurched slightly sideways. "I have you now."

The Northern party had increased their pace as soon as they had seen what was occurring in the desert before them and Nolir noted that they were also gaining ground on the injured fugitives. Shouts filled the air and arrows continued to rain down as Nolir notched another arrow. His horse was well trained and knew how to keep the ride smooth so he could have a steady shot. He let out a growl as he released the arrow and watched it sail.

Satisfaction couldn’t have been better as the arrow impacted with the horses hindquarters. The animal stumbled and the grin widened on Nolir’s face as he watched the passengers tumble from the safety of their equine’s back.

"Get them! Bring them to me!" Orders were aimed at his men.

His joy was short lived as pain shot through Nolir’s chest causing the Marek Captain to scream in agony. Looking down he was met with the disturbing sight of an arrow protruding from his own chest. The warmth left his fingers and his arm began to tingle and Nolir’s scream intensified as it turned from pain to anger

He tardily looked to his followers and was stunned to see some falling, dead, as they hit the sand. They were being attacked.

Beads of sweat began to form on Nolir’s brow as his displeasure escalated "KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!"

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Aragorn did not know what he was witnessing when he crested the hill and saw the large party chasing the lone rider. At first he had ordered a halt, not wanting to get involved, if necessary, in matters of law in Harad.

He called Angrod forward and asked him to aid with his enhanced elven sight. "What do you see?" He asked, trying to mask his irritation at being slowed by the scene unfolding in the desert before them.

Angrod remained quiet as he narrowed his eyes and focused on the single rider, then quicker then Aragorn could track, he whipped his bow from his back. "It is Legolas and the bounty hunter."

No further words were needed, Aragorn, Eomer, Gimli, Angrod and the Gondorian soldiers burst from their spot and raced toward the vulnerable pair, grim determination mirrored on all of their faces.

Ignoring the sand that was flying up into his face, Aragorn bent over his horses neck and whispered words of encouragement. He kept the flattened position, almost becoming one with the animal.

"Fire at will when you come within range." He shouted over the rush of wind to his men "But beware of Legolas and Alcandir". He had already retrieved his bow and it was pressed tightly to his horse’s neck. He rose up and notched an arrow and fired. It was difficult to see amongst the sand and he hoped more than skilled his arrow to hit its mark.

They slammed into the oncoming foes and shouts from the Haradrim could be heard ringing through the dusty air. Aragorn abandoned his bow for his sword and pulled it just in time to plunge it into a masked man who came up on his left.

He leapt from his horse, landing softly on the sand and pushed the animal out of the battle. Once he made sure the animal was on its way to safety he spun around just in time to see a large black horse coming directly at him. The horse didn’t slow or swerve but charged directly at the King, slamming into him and throwing him to the ground.

Aragorn landed roughly on his left arm, a loud snap accompanying the impact. Ignoring the pain, he quickly rolled onto his back and pushed himself up to his feet just in time to see the black horse coming back for another attempt at the King.

With his left arm pressed tightly to his side Aragorn spun and sliced his sword across the legs of the attacking horse sending both animal and rider tumbling over the sandy desert floor. Swiftly walking forward Aragorn came to stand over the fallen rider. He raised the blade of his sword over his head and with just a moment of hesitation, plunged his sword down sinking it deeply into the man’s chest.

The fury that he had been feeling over the past long weeks receded ever so slightly as he watched the life leave his opponent’s body.

Aragorn yanked his sword free and turned to see how his companions were fairing. Gimli spun around and drove a man to the ground with his axe. He had never seen the dwarf fight with such passion, not even during the War of the Ring, and he pitied those on the receiving end of his axe.

Eomer stood mere feet from Gimli, wielding his sword as expertly as ever. He took down two Haradrim simultaneously. They were all fighting superbly considering their tired state. He scanned quickly for Angrod but could not immediately see the dark elf, but his presence was well known when an arrow lodged into a man just inches from taking Aragorn down.

The King of Gondor turned and nodded quickly to Angrod in appreciation then went back to the existing battle. He felled two more Haradrim, ending their lives quickly and cleanly, then took one more look around the battlefield. Taking quick stock in his friends well being, his attention was quickly brought back to the purpose of the fight.

"Legolas!" The call rang out over the desert.

The bodies of dead men were scattered about him. Blood soaked into the sand and all appeared red beneath the setting sun making the site even more eerie. He was joined by his friends and the search commenced. Shouts of Legolas’ name boomed across the dry land, but no response was heard.

"Alcandir!"

No answer.

As the airborne sand floated back to the earth, vision became clearer. The injured horse that the lost pair rode was seen just to the west, limping heavily. Aragorn sprang into a run toward the horse, thinking that where the horse was, the elf couldn’t be far behind.

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Alcandir grabbed onto Legolas so tightly when the horse stumbled that he was sure he was impeding the elf’s breathing. He knew that the horse was going down and was going to take them with it. He had pulled Legolas closer to him in an effort to absorb some of the impact from the fall and to not lose him once they hit the sand. The elf, fortunately, had lost consciousness as soon as the chase had begun and had yet to regain awareness. Alcandir was grateful for this and he suspected that Legolas would be as well.

When they finally lost physical contact with the horse, the fall seemed to last an eternity. Perhaps it was the anticipation of the impact that made the time seem extensive to Alcandir. He had been successful in keeping his hold on Legolas and when the man hit the ground, the elf slammed into him less than a second later driving the air from his lungs.

Alcandir rolled Legolas gently off of him gasping for air. He pushed himself up onto his knees with his head bent over the Prince, mouth hanging open and eyes wide as he tried to force oxygen into his lungs. His chest burned and his eyes watered producing a blurred, swimming image of Legolas before him.

Calming his mind in an effort not to panic over his loss of oxygen, Alcandir’s lungs finally expanded and breath rushed back to him. Dragging in long slow breaths he then reached down and grasped the arrow protruding from his side.

Now is as good a time as any to take care of this small burden

Gripping the arrow shaft in one hand and the elf’s tunic in the other , Alcandir ripped the arrow from his side. The bounty hunter bit down on his lip to keep himself from screaming against the pain but couldn’t prevent the loud hiss of pain that the motion caused.

Clutching the shaft tightly in one hand, he released the elf and pressed his other hand tightly against the open wound. Blood spilled forth, staining his tunic and dripping off the edges. Alcandir leaned even further forward, resting his weight on the hand holding the arrow. He scanned over Legolas looking for signs of further injury. When he couldn’t see anything new and noted the slight, yet erratic, rise and fall of the elf’s chest, the man then flopped down onto his backside.

He closed his eyes against the pain and rested momentarily listening to the sounds of battle that raged behind him. Alcandir was perplexed by what had happened, but had given up trying to solve the mystery of the other army as soon as the horse threw him and the elf to the sand. He had other more pressing matters to think about at that moment.

"To your feet thief."

Alcandir slowly opened his eyes and looked to the source of the command. The guard from Kalen’s palace stood over him, blood pooling from a wound in his chest. His face now uncovered, Nolir scowled down at the bounty hunter. Alcandir let out a huge, exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes. "I am in no mood. Please, find another to torment."

Snarling as he spoke, Nolir grabbed Alcandir by the bicep and began to pull him to his feet. "I do not jest. I will have retribution."

Alcandir allowed the man to lift him to his knees and tightening the grip on the arrow still clasped in his hand, he swung his arm around, stabbing the projectile deeply into the man’s chest. Creating a new wound just opposite the other arrow wound, the arrow penetrated deep into Nolir’s heart. The Marek guard’s eyes bulged and he gasped loudly. Alcandir, removed his hand from the arrow and placed it firmly on the center of Nolir’s chest and shoved the unpleasant man away from him and Legolas.

"I told you, I am not in the mood."

He didn’t watch as Nolir fell to the desert floor with a thud. He had seen the life light leave the man’s eyes the moment that the arrow struck.

Falling back to his former position next to the elf, Alcandir lay his hand over Legolas’ chest and closed his eyes once again. Secure in the relative safety of his pursuers demise.

Chapter 24 - If Wishes Were Horses

Eyelids gently fluttered open to reveal a familiar, although, rather blurred face looking down at him. With what little energy he possessed, Legolas reached a trembling hand up and placed it lightly on the face of the man staring down at him, a sad smile on the others face. "You?" His dry, voice cracked.

Aragorn’s smile fell from his face and he nodded broadly so that the elf could see the movement.

Legolas could feel the pressure building up in his lungs and he dropped his hand to his chest in preparation. He shut his eyes tightly against the pain that the coughing caused, but could feel Aragorn place his hand atop his still trembling one upon his chest. Fluid rose up and filled his mouth, then spilled down his cheek and chin. Legolas opened his eyes again as the coughing subsided.

He watched tiredly as Aragorn wiped the blood from his mouth. He listened to the dull humming of someone speaking but could still not hear clearly over the pulsing that echoed through his head.

"So...tired...Estel."

Legolas’ eyelids began to feel heavy and drooped against his will. He wanted to stay awake. Legolas needed to tell Aragorn to take him home. He needed to hear the trees one more time. He needed to feel the coolness of the shade they supplied and the comforting shelter they provided. He needed to be home.

"Please...home." The words didn’t come out clearly but Legolas didn’t know that. He had made his request. He could rest now. He closed his eyes and slept, knowing that Estel would do as he wished.

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Aragorn had flown past the injured horse in his hunt for his lost friend, spooking the already frightened animal even more. The desert was made up of tiny hills built from sand and as the King crested the hill where the horse stood he was greeted with the most beautifully, frightening sight he had ever seen.

Some yards away lay the body of a very familiar bounty hunter. Aragorn’s eyes were glued to the man, taking in all that he saw. Alcandir lay motionless, a red stain growing on his side. He was lying in a peculiar fashion, his legs twisted beneath him, hunched over as though protecting something, even in his unconscious state.

The King stepped forward slightly for a better look, unsure of why his feet wouldn’t carry him closer. The presence of Gimli, Angrod and Eomer was lost on him as he studied the display before him. Tracing his vision over the fallen man once more his eyes fell on that thing which he had been searching for. The one he had prayed to find. That he had wished, like a child, on many stars for.

There, stretched out between the bounty hunter’s arm and torso, was a slender, pale arm.

Moving forward again, the King caught full sight of the lost elf. His stomach flipped when he saw Legolas. He had been so focused on finding his friend that he barely spared a thought as to what state the elf would be once they were reunited. In all his years, Aragorn had never seen skin so white. The paleness was accentuated by the dark circles beneath the eyes and redness surrounding the wounds.

Aragorn had nearly tripped over his own feet in his hurry to reach Legolas and Alcandir when he finally regained control of his senses. He could hear the others right on his heels and knew that if he stopped he would be run down by a stout dwarf and panicky dark elf.

Stopping momentarily to ensure that his eyes were not deceiving him, he quickly set about ordering the care of the fallen pair. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small jar containing a thick, smelly balm and a roll of bandages and handed it to Eomer.

"Quickly, pack some of this into Alcandir’s arrow wound and bind it tightly with the bandages then stay with him until he wakes."

Eomer took the items without arguing and gently pulled the bounty hunter away from Legolas.

Aragorn was at Legolas’ side before he even finished the order and began taking stock of the elves injuries. He was gladdened by the sight of open eyes greeting him and fought to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. He tried talking to his friend, but Legolas didn’t seem to understand, and he was having difficulty speaking as well.

Aragorn pressed his hand to Legolas’ chest where the elf’s cold, soft hand lay trembling. The solid presence he felt there made his heart ache and he willed the elf to stay awake. The king couldn’t bear the idea of not seeing those eyes again. No matter how pained they looked right now, it was better than never looking into them again.

The battle was for naught though and once Legolas had made his request he had lost consciousness. Aragorn gave up his struggle with his emotions and dropped his chin to his chest, tears dripping down onto the filthy elf. "I am sorry my friend. I came as quickly as I could."

"Aragorn?" Gimli’s gruff, shaking voice broke the silence. "Does he live?"

The areas immediately encircling Legolas’ injuries had been cleaned several times, but the rest of his body was so covered in dirt and old blood that one would have thought the being Aragorn worked over was one of the Wild Men as opposed to an elf. Adding the appearance of the matted, blood-caked hair did nothing to quash that illusion.

Aragorn looked over his shoulder at Gimli standing side by side with Angrod, both looking desperate and frightened. "Yes, he lives, but I know not for how long. What casualties have we?"

Angrod’s soft voice answered Aragorn’s inquiry with near cold precision. "Two dead. Five injured. None serious." The elf paused for a moment assessing his friend and the damage done then continued with a tight voice. "The enemy is completely vanquished."

"Thank you. Please set up camp, we will stay here for the night then move tomorrow to that crop of trees we passed a league back." Aragorn ordered as he worked diligently on Legolas’ wounds. "Also, please put some water on to heat."

Gimli and Angrod didn’t move immediately. They stood and stared at their friend, unable to tear their eyes away for fear he would vanish if they lost sight of him again. Angrod then turned slowly, followed shortly by Gimli. They delegated tasks to those men who were hale and returned quickly to Legolas’ side.

Sweat slid down Aragorn’s face and neck as he cleaned, medicated and patched the various wounds, leaving the blackened knife wound on his back for last. He slid his tunic over his head and folded it lengthwise, he then wrapped the thick piece tightly around Legolas’ swollen knee and secured it with a long strip of bandage wrapped multiple times around the damaged joint.

Ever so gently, he rolled the Prince over onto his stomach, turning his head to the side and placing a soft cloth underneath for comfort. He heard a wispy gasp come from Angrod at the site of the abhorrent wound.

"What has happened there?" Whispered the dark elf.

"I think it is poisoned, but I know not by what." Aragorn answered without looking up. "I will need your assistance, both of you. Gimli, will you please fetch some hot water?"

Gimli dashed away while Angrod moved slowly in and awaited instruction from the King, apprehension written clearly on his face. Wide-open eyes and a mouth pressed into a thin line.

Gimli moved quicker than expected for a dwarf. He pulled the heated water from the fire and dashed back, not spilling so much as a drop, so resolved was he in his task. When he returned to Aragorn’s side, the King handed him a cup with herbs resting on the bottom. Gimli didn’t have to ask, he knew what Aragorn intended and poured the water over the herbs, filling the cup almost to the rim.

"I must cut around this wound and allow it to bleed freely for a moment. I will then need to clean it with the herbal mixture you just prepared Gimli." Aragorn sounded confident in his ministrations and his tone comforted the others.

He then took a sharp, gently curved knife from his pack and pressed it into the open sore of the wound and began to cut outward and then in a slow circle around the initial opening. Legolas only flinched slightly at the new cuts, no sound did he make. Thick, black, smelly fluid oozed from the gap and Angrod wiped it away with a soft cloth.

Aragorn finished cutting and then applied gentle pressure around the new, larger hole. He hoped this would work. He didn’t know what type of poison was introduced to Legolas’ system and could only think to cut out the damaged skin and try to force the toxin out. He was trying to remain calm, or at least sound calm, so that his friends would not lose confidence in him and do anything rash.

The King continued to press until the fluid had lightened to a dark red then poured the warm, medicinal water over the repulsive wound. Legolas jerked and pulled away and Gimli placed a restraining hand on his other shoulder. Luckily the elf was weakened, otherwise it would have taken three men to hold him down.

The wound now purged and cleaned, Aragorn wrapped the shoulder snugly in another clean bandage then sat back on his haunches, drinking in the presence of his friend. A spastic sigh shook his body and he wrapped his right arm tightly around his chest.

"Aragorn, we need to see to your shoulder now." Angrod had moved over to the King and placed a gentle hand on the damaged shoulder. "I am going to ease it back into position and it will hurt. Are you prepared?"

Aragorn nodded and Angrod, with one hand placed firmly on the injured shoulder, used his other hand to raise the Kings left arm up. Wrapping his right arm around Aragorn’s outstretched arm and placing his left hand behind the shoulder Angrod twisted quickly. A loud pop, and a muffled grunt indicated that the shoulder was now in place and Angrod slowly lowered Aragorn’s arm to his side. Taking some left over bandage from Legolas’ side, the dark elf set about binding the King’s arm firmly to his body to prevent motion causing further damage.

His own injuries tended to, Aragorn focused back on Legolas. His body began shaking once again as sobs broke out. All of the emotion that had been stored up since Legolas vanished burst forth. He leaned forward again and rested his head on the elf’s back.

He sat there for the longest time. Listening to the strained breathing of his friend. He felt a light hand come to rest on his own head and knew that Gimli and Angrod still sat with the two. They would be there all night.

As the sun began to paint the sky orange, the soldiers of Gondor went about setting up camp. They erected a tent over the vigil that took place in the middle of the desert. The site would have been unusual to most, but the soldiers knew what had transpired to bring this group together.

The vision of a filthy blonde haired elf, lying on his stomach with a King, dwarf and dark elf pressed against him and over him, another King sitting near by, his eyes glued to the blonde beings face, was enough to bring silent tears in these strong soldier’s eyes. None tried to hide their emotions, it was a happy, frightening, somber site that tugged at the heart. No one said anything as peace and prayers reigned over the desert that day.

Chapter 25 - Worth Living?

That night, spent waiting and keeping vigil, had been the longest of Angrod’s life. Considering that he had been on this earth for just more than two thousand years, that was saying something. The dark elf had been in battles, sat through boring lessons as an elfling and been dragged into many of Legolas’ adventures, but the night that he had just spent watching over his fading friend seemed the length of his entire existence.

He hadn’t left his Prince’s side the entire time and barely dared to take his eyes off of him for fear that Legolas would be taken from him if he didn’t keep a constant guard. Many times he found his hands straying to Legolas almost as if checking he was real. Although he barely looked himself, the Prince was there, right in front of him, and would never leave his sight again if he had anything to say about it.

Legolas had barely moved throughout the entire night spent beneath the cooling canvas of a beige tent. Occasionally a coughing fit would rattle his form causing the four friends to scramble about hoping to ease the Prince’s discomfort. As well, Legolas continued to tremble, even in his unconscious state. Other than the involuntary actions, he moved not at all.

Angrod was joined in his watch by a very fidgety dwarf. He had a silent admiration for Gimli and his devotion to Legolas. He was, almost always, the first to move as soon as he deemed Legolas in need of aid, which was quite often. If Gimli saw, what he interpreted, an increase in trembling, he was shouting for Aragorn and speaking softly to Legolas to calm him.

Aragorn was also a constant companion. Except, as King and leader of this expedition, he had other duties to take care of around the camp. Angrod tried comforting the man when he had lost his composure and fell sobbing over their damaged friend. After a time, Aragorn had risen, wiped his eyes, and went to tend to the other injuries and check on the well-being of his men. He had returned frequently even if just to stop briefly and check on Legolas, tears always threatening to spill over.

As well, Eomer was never far away. He had followed Aragorn’s request to sit with Alcandir and tend to the bounty hunter’s injuries, but had made sure that he was placed close to Legolas so he could watch over the both of them. Alcandir had woken up several times throughout the night and each time Eomer would question him regarding the happenings of his journey. The story was vague and confusing, but that was to expected coming from the injured man.

The news that the other missing elves were dead had hit Angrod like a stone wall. Admittedly, he had not thought much about them, his focus on the friend right before him. But when Alcandir had told the rescuers of the elves fate, Angrod’s heart felt as though it had stopped. He didn’t know how they had died, but he was sure, judging by the condition that Legolas was in, their experience had been a nightmare, and their death’s brutal. He mourned for them and prayed that their souls had made a quick, safe journey to the Halls of Waiting.

On multiple occasions a soldier or two would stick their head inside the tent and look compassionately over the elf prince, searching for news. Angrod would smile reassuringly at them then turn his attention back to the Prince.

He wanted Legolas to wake, he wanted to hear his voice and know that he was going to be well, but he knew that it was probably better for him to sleep through this time. He wasn’t surprised at his tightly closed eyes and prayed that he would be able to see the shining blue orbs hidden beneath, and soon.

Angrod had found it to be a constant battle keeping firm control over his own emotions. It was difficult to see his best friend and liege in such a delicate state. Guilt and self disappointment overpowered his psyche and it was difficult to force his thoughts to other things. He constantly scolded himself for leaving Legolas to travel alone and had outwardly apologized to all who would listen.

The setting sun had found the dark elf washing and brushing the Princes disheveled hair. As he gently twisted the, now clean, silk like strands into a long braid, the silence was broken by a deep, gruff voice. "Legolas would appreciate that, the blasted elf was probably more concerned about his appearance than his health."

Angrod smiled at the comment, he doubted it to be accurate but knew that Gimli’s comment was his way of thanking the dark elf for his actions and voicing his concern. "I doubt it was his number one concern, but I would not be surprised to learn that he fretted over it on occasion."

"Having his hair clean and orderly almost improves his grave appearance. He looks not quite so ill."

"Aye, he is probably aware of his returning fairness and had decided not to give up his fight after all." Angrod tried to joke but the statement caused no mirth for either of them.

"Do you believe that he has given up the desire to live?" Eomer’s voice interjected from the other side of the tent, concern evident in his tone.

"Nay, I do not believe that Legolas would ever lose his want to live." Angrod swallowed hard, not wanting to believe what he was about to say. "I fear, however, that he may have felt his body giving in to the damage done and thought the battle futile."

"Then we must convince him otherwise." Gimli firmly stated, his voice turning angry and determined . "He may think the battle lost, but I am not prepared for him to leave."

There was no argument to this statement, the other two silently agreed with the dwarf and would take up the task of convincing Legolas that his time in Middle Earth was not yet done.

Eomer slowly rose from his spot next to the resting Alcandir and slipped quietly out of the tent. Angrod heard him leave but didn’t follow the Rohirrim King’s departure, his eyes continually glued to his friend. The tent fell quiet with the exception of the deep, shuttering breathing of Legolas as Angrod and Gimli both fell into quiet meditation.

They remained like this for several minutes before the peace was unexpectedly broken by the soft, baritone humming of Angrod’s vigilant companion. The dark elf remained quiet, listening to the tune that melodically filled the small, temporary structure. It took a few moments, the song usually being sung in a higher pitched, flowing manner, but Angrod finally recognized the song.

Angrod listened and watched as the dwarf crooned, his mind seemingly in a far off place. He allowed Gimli to pause before speaking, hesitant to interrupt the deeply, moving scene.

"Legolas taught you this song?" He asked in a whispered voice.

Gimli jumped subtly at the elf’s words, testament to his distracted state of mind. "Aye, he did. During our years of travel together after the great war."

Angrod nodded his head, a vision of the odd pairing traveling through thick woods and dark caverns learning from each other, flitting through his mind. "Do you know the meaning of the song you hummed?"

The dwarf furrowed his eyebrows in contemplation and tilted his head as he pondered the Angrod’s question. "Nay. I do not recall Legolas explaining the meaning to me. Is it something sacred?"

A smile appeared on the fair face of the dark elf and a small laugh escaped him. Gimli and Legolas had such a unique relationship that Gimli believed that Legolas would have taught him one of the more sacred, elven songs. Yet, the more Angrod thought on this, the more he realized that the possibility was there, so close were the two.

Lost in his musings, Angrod didn’t notice that Gimli watched him, waiting for an answer to his question. Not until the soft clearing of the dwarves throat did he finally answer. "Nay, friend Gimli, it is not one of the sacred songs. Although perhaps Legolas would have considered it more sacred than those of the Eldar days. It is a song of Greenwood and being called home by the song of the trees."

Gimli didn’t respond to this new information and Angrod watched him closely as he mentally digested what he was told. His eyes then slowly fell to his injured friend as Gimli resumed the song from where he had stopped moments earlier. Angrod listened briefly then, as if out of habit, joined in with the dwarf. Gimli didn’t miss a beat as the tenor joined in, the mix of the two voices soothing and comforting to those in the camp that could hear the melancholic melody.

A rustling outside the tent forced the duo to cease their singing and a dark headed, young soldier appeared in the opening, a look of regret on his face. "We are ready to take this tent down and move North. We have prepared a transport device for the Prince which can be strapped between two horses so that he may be carried comfortably. I can show you how it works when you are ready."

"We are ready now, show us this contraption." Responded the dark elf as he rose from Legolas’ side.

The soldier motioned to someone outside the tent and two more soldiers followed the first into the tent. They carried a portion of a tent which had been cut the length of the golden elf and attached on two ends to thick tent poles. Each pole had a long strip of thick leather on each end. The soldiers explained how the device would work, while spreading the makeshift stretcher out on the tent floor.

Angrod and Eomer then gently lifted the trembling body and placed him squarely onto the canvas. They were joined by two of the soldiers and each took one end of a pole and lifted Legolas from the ground. The prince now lay on his back, suspended between the four. They carried him out of the tent and the camp quieted as they passed.

Two horses, Aragorn’s and Angrod’s, stood just outside the tent and they lay the stretcher between the two large animals. Angrod stepped forward to his own horse and, looking into the equine’s large dark eyes, spoke quietly telling him of the task they had asked of him. His horse tossed its head back in acceptance. He then stepped to Aragorn’s horse and the scene was repeated.

The original four lifted the stretcher back into the air while four other soldiers went about fastening the large, thick straps around the horses. Legolas was now cradled between the two large horses, completely unaware of the unusual position he was in.

Angrod then helped Gimli tuck blankets over and around the golden elf to ease any chill and jostling that might occur during the journey they were about to take.

The last tent was quickly taken down and Alcandir was settled on Eomer’s horse in front of the blonde King. Gimli joined Angrod atop his noble stallion and they quietly waited for Aragorn to call the order to move out. Several other soldiers bore wounded in front of them and packs were loaded to the now riderless horses.

Aragorn stepped between two of the escorts now surrounding Legolas’ transport. He walked first past Eomer and placed a gentle hand on his leg then stopped to check over Alcandir who was now sleeping due to a drought that Aragorn had administered. He was healing well and there was no sign of infection, a few weeks and the bounty hunter would be back to his usual, annoying self.

Aragorn then stepped over to the dark elf and dwarf. He placed his good hand on each of their legs, first Gimli’s then Angrod’s, and smiled. No words were exchanged, a quiet reassurance passed between the three and each was comforted by the exchange. The king then stepped to the head of the injured Prince, he placed his hand on the Legolas’ face, the other still bound tightly to his side, and bent down low. Angrod did not try to hear the words that were said. He knew it was a private moment and the scene was touching.

The King then mounted his steed, rubbed his hand over the animal’s neck, turned and nodded to Angrod, and the somber party moved out. The group was led by two soldiers, who had survived the battle unscathed, followed by the three horses baring the injured pair that had been recovered the night before. The rest of the army followed shortly behind.

Angrod was amazed at the smooth ride afforded to the injured elf. The two horses moved as one and seemed to miss any bumps or dips that appeared in their path. The journey passed slowly and the dark-haired elf let out a sigh of relief when he saw trees looming on the horizon. Aragorn heard the sigh and looked to Angrod for assurance.

A sad smile spread over both of their faces. They would reach their destination within the hour and the next time Legolas opened his eyes he would be greeted by the beauty of green leaves and singing trees. Tears threatened to roll down Angrod’s cheeks as this thought crossed his mind. Please wake soon My Prince, the trees are as eager to greet you as you are they.

Chapter 26 - Farewell My Friend

Being amongst the cooling shelter of trees was a welcome and refreshing feeling for Alcandir. He could almost understand the elves’ love for these natural towers, he felt safer and protected now that he sat, leaning against a thick trunk. Alcandir wondered what it was that trees said to the elves, did they have normal conversations or was it just the sound of rustling leaves and creaking branches that comforted the first born? He wondered if Legolas could hear them in his current condition.

Alcandir had woken two days ago, the morning after they had arrived at their present campsite. He had learned that the reason for his extended sleep was because Aragorn had slipped something into a tea he had drank. It was upsetting that he had been drugged, but wasn’t going to voice his displeasure to his King. For one, he really did understand the reasoning behind the sleeping drought and for two, King Elessar had enough to deal with at the moment.

He had been a silent observer to the camp’s goings on. Watching as Legolas was fussed over, vigils were kept and silent, one-sided conversations occurred with the elf prince. These conversations had been deeply moving at times and quite humorous at others. Alcandir had learned a lot about some of the adventures taken by Legolas and his friends and the antics of the golden elf had been amusing to say the least. It was hard to believe that someone so angelic and innocent looking could be the one referred to in the stories he overheard.

The past two days had been trying on the four friends and they had experienced some frightening moments while taking care of the ailing elf. Alcandir had watched as Aragorn had cleaned the ugly, poisoned wound on Legolas’ back and could see the look of frustration in the Kings eyes as he tried to determine what had caused the blackness encompassing the injury. Trembling and fever had continued to rage through the thin, starved body and teas, water, juices, herbs and mashed berries had been forced down Legolas’ throat in hopes of replenishing lost nutrients.

Now Alcandir sat watching as Aragorn tried to encourage the elf prince to breathe. Moments ago, a coughing fit had racked Legolas’ body and he had stopped breathing. Angrod, Gimli and Eomer stood over the elf and King, each subconsciously holding their own breath, as Aragorn furiously rubbed and pounded on Legolas’ back and commanded him to take a breath. Alcandir even found himself holding his breath as he watched and waited.

"Legolas! Breathe!" The King’s voice echoed through the trees and the other men of the camp had stopped what they were doing to await the outcome.

Aragorn then dropped his head, took a deep breath and, grimacing due to his own pained shoulder, which he had unwrapped the day before out of frustration over his immobilization, lowered the elf back to the forest floor. Legolas had begun to breathe again and his breath was echoed by every other observer in the camp. This was the third time in two days that this scene had been played out and each time the fear in the camp intensified a little more.

"Do you fair well?’ The melodic voice was unexpected and Alcandir turned his eyes to the dark elf now standing over him. He nodded his head in response and Angrod crouched down in front of him. "I have not yet thanked you for what you have done. I am sorry."

Alcandir sat quietly for a moment weighing the sincerity behind the statement. For many long weeks he had failed to believe in the success of the mission he had been sent on, feeling that there was no way he would be able to bring Legolas home alive. After witnessing what he just had he had, his fear had begun to increase. Perhaps he would fail afterall.

"There is no need to apologize. You have been consumed with Legolas’ health and that is understandable."

Alcandir found himself under the critical scrutiny of bright, blue eyes and held the elf’s gaze for a moment before dropping his own eyes. He picked up a small twig and began twisting it between apprehensive fingers. The elf made him nervous and Alcandir almost felt that he was the one to blame for Legolas’ current condition.

"You are not at fault for what has happened." Alcandir’s thoughts were interrupted by the dark elf’s words. "The elves of Ithilien will be eternally in your debt for returning our Prince to us."

Angrod released the squirming man from his gaze and looked now into the boughs of the tree that loomed overhead. Alcandir followed his line of vision and found himself entranced by the dancing leaves that were pushed around by a gentle breeze.

"Do they speak to you as well?" The dark elf asked.

"No, they do not." Responded Alcandir as he looked back to the elf before him. "Are all elves capable of communicating with the trees?"

Alcandir watched as Angrod seemed to ponder this question for a brief moment. "I do not know about all, but those I have met have been blessed with the ability. Some, however, are more in tune than others. Legolas has a deep love and connection with them. I think that his mother was blessed with foresight, for she named him well." Angrod must have seen the look of confusion on Alcandir’s face because he continued in his explanation. "His name translates to Greenleaf, did you not know?"

Alcandir smiled at this and now understood Legolas’ desire to return to the trees as quickly as he could. Angrod returned the smile and there was a warmth and compassion in his face that the bounty hunter had never seen in another.

"Do they speak to you then?"

"I am a wood elf. I hail from Eryn Lasgalen." The matter of fact tone in Angrod’s voice told Alcandir that he should know what was meant by this statement but confusion must have returned to his face as Angrod continued. "Aye, they speak to me and I to them."

"What do they tell you?"

Angrod’s eyes glossed over and his face dropped. "They weep and fear for the Prince. But they have hope. They call to him and sing of a day when he will frolic in their branches once more."

The statement only increased Alcandir’s curiosity and he found himself, once again, looking into the outstretched arms of the tree that supported him. Why was he not able to hear the tree’s song? Were elves able to speak to other creatures as well? Alcandir had remembered seeing the dark elf talking with his horse and the other horses of the camp. Interesting creatures, elves.

When Alcandir’s eyes fell from the trees, he was met with empty space. Angrod had left him and now sat next to Legolas once again, speaking quietly to the trembling prince. The two elves were alone now and Alcandir sought out his King, he wanted to speak with Aragorn and he needed to do it soon.

Alcandir had decided that it was now time for him to go home. He had been away for far too long and ached for familiar faces and structures. Although he didn’t have a family of his own, the small village where he resided when not working held many friends and those he considered family. He did not have a home there, but stayed in an inn and, several years ago, had found himself returning there for brief respites before taking on new work.

He spotted Aragorn standing across the camp from him, stirring the fire and speaking with some of the younger soldiers. Using the tree for support, Alcandir pushed himself from the forest floor and began to walk across the camp. Many soldiers were absent and he suspected that they were out in the forest hunting or working on different tasks ordered them by their King.

The camp was quite orderly considering it was filled with men, most of which were young bachelors. Aragorn ran a tight ship and nothing was out of place. Bedrolls were rolled and stacked out of the main campsite. The horses were roped off several yards away to prevent them wandering off into the forest or entering the camp. A fire burned in the center and two pots hung over it, one for water, the other with a stew for that eve’s dinner.

Aragorn saw Alcandir approaching and ceased his conversation with the young soldier. "A word My Lord?" Aragorn didn’t answer, instead he turned to the soldier and nodded his head. The young man bowed and quickly left the campfire.

"You are feeling better I see." The King stated, reaching a long stick back into the fire, stirring the burning wood beneath the pots.

"Aye My Lord, thank you. How does your shoulder fair?"

Almost subconsciously Aragorn lifted his arm and rotated his shoulder, testing the healing joint before answering. "It still pains me some, but is healing quickly. The restraint was more troublesome than the actual injury."

They stood in silence for a moment, neither knowing how to breach the topic that they both knew was going to be discussed. Aragorn, wanting to check on Legolas once more, urged Alcandir to speak. "You had something you wished to tell me?"

"Aye My Lord. I ask that you grant me leave tomorrow so that I may return to my home."

"You do not wish to accompany us back to Minas Tirith then?"

Alcandir considered this for a moment, his eyes focused on the flames of the fire. "I have finished the job assigned me and am eager to return to my own friends and family."

The King did not answer so Alcandir continued. "I will worry for Legolas and wonder of his well being, but he is well protected and surrounded by those who love him. I am no longer needed here."

Aragorn sat quietly for a moment, staring into the flickering flames before him and Alcandir feared for a moment that his request would be declined. He did want to return to his home and he did yearn for the peace and quiet he would find there, but more so he feared that he would have to stay and see his failure played out before him. If Legolas were not to make it back to Minas Tirith then that was something that Alcandir wished to be ignorant of. He wished not to know the final outcome if it were to be poor.

"You have my permission and my gratitude. There will be a horse prepared for you in the morning" Aragorn stepped past Alcandir and went back to Legolas’ side, leaving the man to his thoughts once again.

Alcandir let out a sigh of relief as he watched his King’s retreating back, he would always wonder about the elf and how he was fairing. He knew that he would receive word when he was in Minas Tirith next and that would be enough for him. For now, there were jobs waiting for him back in Gondor and Rohan and he wanted to be far from this somber forest.

The remainder of the night passed as the previous nights in the camp. Some of the soldiers had returned with a large buck that would hold them over for a day or two. He didn’t know how long the group would remain here in this forest, but knew they would stay until Legolas was fit to travel again.

Aragorn had come to him just before retiring for the night and had quietly checked over the arrow wound to his side. Healing had gone well and the stitches would be able to be removed within a week’s time. He watched as the King took his usual sleeping spot next to Legolas and wondered if the elf knew how loved he was by his friends.

Settling onto his back, his eyes once again found themselves studying the branches of the tree he had spent the past two days beneath. Aye, how I would love to hear what it is you speak of.

The rising sun woke the bounty hunter, he hadn’t realized that he had fallen to sleep and was pleased that he had slept through the night undisturbed. He packed up his belongings and loaded them onto the horse provided by Aragorn. It was a beautiful animal, large and strong. Its color was a deep, rich brown that was seldom seen in horses and the King promised that it was a good, loyal horse and would serve him well.

Quick words of thanks and goodbyes were offered by Angrod, Gimli and Eomer and then Alcandir stepped over to the still unconscious elf prince. He knelt down by Legolas’ head and placed a palm on his forehead. The elf was burning with fever and trembled lightly beneath his touch.

Alcandir leaned in over the ailing elf and whispered silently to him. "I leave you now my Prince but our journey cannot have been in vain. You must wake soon. Your friends miss you. Farewell my friend."

He rose from Legolas’ side and without another word went to his horse and mounted. He looked over the camp one last time, his eyes lingering on Legolas for a moment, then turned the animal and guided it into the forest and out of sight.

Chapter 27 - Regaining Control

Gimli had expressed his most sincere gratitude to Alcandir for bringing Legolas back to them and bid him farewell then returned to his usual place at the elf’s side. He had become extremely accustomed to his position at Legolas’ side and there was no place else in the camp that he felt as comfortable. On the numerous occasions that he actually ventured away from the side of his ailing friend his mind would begin to create horrifying images of Legolas fading and he not being there to comfort and ease his friend’s passing. That image would alternate with the fearful thought of Legolas waking to find himself alone. Neither were acceptable to Gimli and he would do everything in his power to make sure that his fears would not came to pass.

He sat, rinsing a cloth for his friend’s brow, watching the man ride out of site. He would be eternally indebted to the bounty hunter but had no idea of a payment fitting for what the man had gone through and had done for them. The campsite quieted after Alcandir left and although Gimli had only known the man for a short time it felt as though something were missing. Wonderment filled his thoughts at the possibility of seeing Alcandir again, hopefully next time would be under better circumstances.

He placed the cool cloth back on Legolas’ forehead then gently lay his strong, rough hand to the pale face checking for any change in temperature. Legolas still burned with fever and trembled involuntarily from the poison. His eyes were sealed shut and he had the distinct look of pain etched into his face. In short, the elf prince hadn’t improved since arriving at their current campsite.

Gimli wished more than anything Legolas would just wake, even if briefly. He had hoped that he would rouse before Alcandir had left so that he could thank the man who had help to return him home. He knew that the two had communicated, as best they could, out in the desert soon after fleeing Marek, but he knew that Legolas would want to personally thank Alcandir for all that he had done.

There were times, since meeting the elf, that Gimli had become irritated with Legolas. Almost violently at the start of their journey with Frodo and the ring. The annoyance of the elf had slowly declined as they spent more time together and his admiration had grown toward the end of the War. During their trek through Fangorn and the Glittering Caves the pair had developed an incomparable friendship with each other, one that rivaled any other formed in Middle Earth.

When he had first received word of Legolas’ disappearance, panic had surged through him and he could think of nothing else. As he sat within the Citadel of the White City, the dwarf had barely slept, so overcome with worry and anger was he. Now, as he sat, wiping tiny drops of perspiration from Legolas’ face and neck Gimli had realized that he had grown to love the elf. Legolas had become like a brother to Gimli and it was difficult for the dwarf to imagine his life without the annoying elf.

Gimli was roused from his thoughts by the light shuffling of Angrod coming to sit across from him. The two exchanged comforting smiles and the dark elf set about checking over his Prince’s current condition. An unusual friendship had formed between these two as well and Gimli had to keep from smiling as he thought of what his father might think of his befriending not one, but two elves. Gimli and Angrod had formed a quiet respect for each other. They had spent so much time together watching over Legolas that they had almost developed a routine for the way they cared for him. One would begin cleaning a wound and the other would finish, all without exchanging words with each other.

Without a word, Angrod stood, picked up the bowl next to Legolas’ head and left the campsite. Gimli knew he was heading to the stream, several yards from camp, to procure fresh water and perhaps to do some thinking away from the curious eyes of the restless soldiers. He watched him walk away, a slight sag to his shoulders and knew that the dark elf shared his frustration over the elf prince’s prolonged illness.

He had no sooner left the small clearing when Gimli’s attention was jerked back to Legolas. The elf had started coughing again and Gimli took the cloth he had been using to wipe his face and neck and held it next to Legolas’ mouth. Tiny droplets of blood sprayed the cloth crimson, followed by a light trickle which Gimli caught before it could drip down the elf’s cheek. Coughing subsided and once Gimli was assured that Legolas had not stopped breathing again, he turned to exchange cloths for a clean one nearby. They had kept many cloths and clean bandages close at hand and once a day one of the faithful friends would set about cleaning the soiled items so fresh material would be available.

Turning back to his ailing friend, Gimli was met with tired, blue eyes. All motion froze for the dwarf and he stared in silent shock at the long awaited site. "Thank the Valar." He breathed out as he placed his hand on the elf’s warm cheek. Confusion was evident on Legolas’ face and he lifted a trembling hand and placed it over the rough one covering his face. Gimli turned his hand over and grasped the limp cold hand in his own and smiled, a large joyous smile, down at the elf.

"It is good to see you awake my friend." Gimli’s gruff voice quivered with emotion.

"It is good just to see you at all." It took some time for the elf to finish the short sentence, words were strained and the voice a mere whisper, but it was like music to Gimli’s ears.

"Aragorn!" Gimli called over his shoulder then turned back to the elf. "Can you hear me well Legolas?"

Before Legolas could answer, they were joined by two very apprehensive looking Kings. Grins identical to Gimli’s spread over both faces and tears of joy glistened in Aragorn’s eyes. Gimli was already busy wiping loose tears from his cheek with his free hand, his other hand still clinging tightly to Legolas’.

"Welcome back. How do you feel?" Aragorn now knelt over the elf prince staring into his eyes.

Legolas closed his eyes and for a moment Gimli feared that he had lost consciousness again. But then, the blue orbs reappeared and the elf just looked at the three with a somber expression. That was all the answer the three needed to the previously asked question, it would have been a shock had the elf admitted he was in misery.

Angrod must have heard Gimli shout to Aragorn because the dwarf watched as he bolted out of the woods, his leggings wet from the water sloshing over the edges of the bowl he carried with him. Gimli made sure that the dark elf saw the smile on his face in order to ease his panic and moved slightly so that he could join them at Legolas’ side.

"Can you hear me?" Aragorn continued his questioning.

Legolas furrowed his brows in mild confusion. "Aye. Some."

"That you can hear me at all is good news, you are improving." Aragorn rose from the ground. "Let me put some tea on, I think it does you good."

The King left the happy group and Gimli found himself the focus of Legolas’ gaze now. He could see that the elf fought to keep his eyes open and Gimli rubbed his hand furiously between his own. "Stay awake Legolas, you have been away too long and we have missed your company."

Legolas attempted to nod his head but Gimli could see this pained him and hushed the elf. For the moment he was just happy to see his friend awake, conversation could come later. The dwarf removed the warm cloth from Legolas’ head and rinsed it in cool water once again, the smile never leaving his face.

****************************************************************************

Opening his eyes and being greeted by the beauty of green leaves dangling overhead, was something that Legolas had dreamed of since waking up inside a tent on his way to Marek. It was also something that Legolas never thought he would see again. The site was indescribable.

Other than his joy at being back beneath the trees, Legolas felt awful. He had never known such pain and discomfort. Judging from the looks on his friends’ faces, his feelings had been well known and worried over. He did have to admit that he felt better since that last time he had woken but that wasn’t saying much considering he felt so horrible now.

Legolas could feel himself falling back to sleep and he wanted to grant his mind and body the solace it sought, but he was also afraid of giving in to those desires. He had slept so long and barely remembered any of his experience, and it frightened him to be so out of control. He needed to regain that sense of being in command of his own life and the only way he was capable of doing that, at the moment, was by willing himself to stay awake.

As well, he could see, in the faces of his friends, that they were not ready for him to sleep again so soon. They had each taken turns just talking to him, they wouldn’t give him an opportunity to respond and he was quickly quieted if he tried. They knew it was a strain for him to speak and Legolas was content, for now, just to listen to them.

He knew that they had many questions with regards to what had transpired over the course of his captivity, but they were patient and content to wait until he was ready. And for this, Legolas was grateful.

He had also been unable to speak with them because they were dripping small amounts of fluid into his mouth. Legolas couldn’t remember when he had last eaten and the tea and berry juice tasted like a festival feast. He was hungry and would do anything for a real meal. Aragorn had told him that food would have to be reintroduced to his system very slowly so as not to overwhelm him and make him even more ill.

The thought of food, or lack thereof, brought a new thought rushing back to Legolas. Where was the man who had tended to him in the desert? Who was the man? Legolas hadn’t been able to talk with the stranger because, at the time, he was unable to hear what was being said and the mock sign language had been hard to follow.

Raising a trembling hand to stop the next swallow of tea, Legolas looked to Aragorn. "Where is the dark stranger who cared for me in the desert? I wish to thank him."

Aragorn dropped his gaze briefly and absently swirled the remaining tea left in the cup he held. "He has left to return to his home."

"Who was he Aragorn?"

"That is a discussion for another time, when it is not so difficult for you to speak." The King smiled kindly to Legolas then motioned for him to open his mouth for another spoonful of tea.

"I do not need to speak, just listen." He paused, measuring Aragorn’s reaction. "Tell me who it was that came for me."

Aragorn set the cup down in the dirt and wiped his hands on a cloth. He then stared past the elf and sighed heavily.

"When we learned of your abduction and destination, we knew that there was no way that we could follow you into Harad. Two Kings, a steward, a dwarf and another elf would be easily spotted amongst the Southrons." Aragorn paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, his gray eyes now focused on Legolas’ blue ones. "The man that I sent to find you and bring you home is named Alcandir, he is a bounty hunter who works out of Gondor and Rohan and is obviously very good at his job."

Legolas thought for a moment on what he had just been told. Aragorn, one of his best friends, had hired a bounty hunter to pursue him into Harad. That over the course of his captivity he had spent time in the possession of slave runners, Haradrim and a bounty hunter was astounding to the elf. He could see that Aragorn was watching him closely as he digested what had just been told him.

It made so much more sense now, the feelings that he had had about Alcandir when first meeting him. That he could sense a darker side to the man and yet knew that he was a good, decent person. Alcandir had seemed so gruff and gentle at the same time. He had been the perfect example of contrast.

Then, Legolas could not control his feelings on the matter any longer. "You hired a bounty hunter to pursue me?" A smirk appeared on the elf’s face. "How much was I worth?"

Aragorn blushed slightly a look of mild confusion causing his brow to crease. "I did not pay him anything." The two sat, for a moment, watching each others expression waiting for the other to crack. Once noticing the small smile on Legolas’ pale face, Aragorn began to let out a light laugh, the tension easing somewhat.

Legolas let out a small laugh as well but before he could retaliate his body was overcome with coughing. Aragorn’s laughter was stopped immediately as he lifted the elf slightly and placed the cloth in his hands gently over Legolas’ mouth. When the coughing ceased, Aragorn pulled the blood tinged cloth away and swiftly tucked it behind him so Legolas could not see it. He lay the elf back on the ground and gave him a small sip of water.

The sound of coughing roused Gimli, Angrod and Eomer from their tasks about the camp and the four were, once again, standing over the prone elf. Legolas didn’t say anything to his friends, he just smiled reassuringly and closed his eyes.

The presence of his friends, their hands pressed into his and gently lying upon his arms and chest in reassurance, was what finally gave Legolas the power to let himself slip into a restful slumber. Sleep would be a welcome thing now, not being forced upon him as it had been previously. He could allow himself to rest comfortably now, safe beneath the trees and amongst his friends.

Chapter 28 - Going Home

"No Aragorn." Legolas’ usual raspy, strained, voice was ringing clearly and quite loudly at the moment and it made Aragorn cringe.

There was no argument in what the King of Gondor was proposing. No amount of pleading would change Aragorn’s mind. He had watched Legolas pretend that his illness and pain didn’t bother him. During the little time that Legolas was actually conscious, since waking two days ago, the elf had been trying to convince his friends that he was doing and feeling better. They weren’t fooled. The outward signs of sickness were still highly visible and the squinted eyes and winces convinced them that he felt as bad as he looked.

So, when the decision had been made that it would be best to get Legolas back to Minas Tirith and that he should be sedated so he could sleep through what was sure to be a painful journey, the elf prince started to protest.

"I was drugged by my captors for the journey into Harad." The elf continued, this time the ever present tremor becoming more evident in his words. "I would prefer to be awake and coherent for the trip home." The King listened in silence noting his friend’s frustration over his own, self-perceived weakness.

Aragorn understood Legolas’ feelings on the matter and that made his decision that much harder. Did he sedate his friend, despite his protests, knowing that it would make the trek home easier for the elf, reducing the pain that he felt? Or did he give the elf back some control and allow him to decide for himself?

The fact was, if Aragorn allowed Legolas to remain conscious, then the elf would be awake through the bouncing and jostling that was sure to occur. The stress that was placed upon his healing body could be too much to bear and could make Legolas even more ill or even result in his death. Aragorn would not have that on his conscience, it was easier to force Legolas to sleep and beg his forgiveness later than to not have the opportunity to speak with him ever again. The decision was made.

Legolas still lay on the forest floor, now surrounded on all sides by his four friends, each of which was trying, in their own way, to convince the elf to take a sleeping drought.

"Stop being so blasted stubborn." Gimli’s gruff voice boomed.

"It is for your own well-being My Prince." The melodic voice of Angrod soothed.

"Legolas, Aragorn is only doing what he thinks best." Came Eomer’s strong authoritative words.

"Do not worry on it now, my friend. We will leave in the morning, we can discuss it further just before we depart." Aragorn knew what he was doing would anger and probably hurt Legolas, but he also knew that it was what was best for his injuries, which were already having difficulty healing because of the fever that raged in the elf.

The darkening of the surrounding sky signaled the end of another day and Aragorn was happy to be aiming for home with the dawning of the next day. There was much to be done before he took his rest for the night and many decisions to be made.

Most of the camp had already been packed, just those few things that would be needed in the morning remained available. The King had decided that the last night would be spent beneath the stars and all tents were taken down. He hadn’t spent any night beneath the covering of canvas since coming to the copse of trees. Rather, he slept beneath the open sky next to Legolas, knowing that exposure to the trees and stars would aid in the elf’s recovery.

The biggest decision to be made was whether the party would travel with little rest, as they had on the journey to Harad. It would be best to return to Minas Tirith as soon as possible, but the lack of rest could cause more injury due to fatigue. In the end, it was decided that they would travel as far as they could each day, taking short respites whenever necessary. It would be much the same as the journey they had made several days before, but Aragorn had decided that the rests would be longer to allow more time to check on their ailing friend. Most contrasting of all would be the ease of heart at having their beloved friend with them.

Some hours later, the King had finally finished his preparations for the next day’s departure and, grabbing a cup of water and the necessary herbs, had gone to lie down, next to Legolas, for a little sleep. He noticed, when he reached the elf prince’s side, that his friend was still awake. He wished to enquire as to the elf’s inability to sleep, but was concerned about waking the others that lay sleeping around them. Conversations with Legolas still had to be done with a raised voice and shouting in the camp, at this time of night, would rouse those who had been able to find peace.

Rather, he placed a gentle hand on the prince’s chest letting Legolas know that he was there. No matter how many times he had held his friend or placed a calming hand on him, he was still surprised by the intensity of the tremble that shook Legolas’ body. This effect of the poison had also been a huge source of frustration for the elf. He was unable to steady a cup or spoon enough to eat or drink on his own and it seemed that the trembling had not lessened as some of the other ailments had.

Legolas lay with his left arm outstretched, his shaking hand pressed against the trunk of the tree which he was sheltered beneath. His thin fingers subconsciously tracing along the ridges of the bark. "It is good to hear their song once again."

Aragorn didn’t respond to the elf. He just listened, all of his focus on the Legolas’ words, intrigued by what the elf was saying.

"It was so quiet and dark. Nothing natural grows and no light exists." He sighed and a look of confusion took his face. "So strange that in a land where the sun is King, there is no light. They have embraced darkness."

Aragorn had heard that Legolas had been locked in a cell devoid of any light. That he had been isolated and alone unless the Lord of Marek had a desire to make the elf suffer. But, he knew that this was not all that Legolas spoke of. He remembered fighting the Haradrim at Pelennor Fields, and he had also heard many things about their ways and behaviors. They had been extremely influenced by the dark powers of Mordor and Sauron and had been stained by that evil.

Aragorn brushed his hand over the elf’s burning head, pushing dampened golden strands away from his face. The cloth on Legolas’ head had obviously just been replaced right before Aragorn had joined the elf, for it still felt somewhat cool. The King pulled, one of the many blankets over the elf, up a little higher, tucking it beneath his trembling chin.

The pair sat in silence, watching the leaves of their natural shelter dance about in the subtle breeze that cooled the night, each comforted by the others’ presence. As the night wore on Aragorn found himself listening to his friend’s breathing. Strained and rattling at first, it was the only sound to rip at the peacefulness of the night, now more even and quiet, Aragorn came to realize that Legolas had finally fallen to sleep, his hand still resting against the base of the tree.

He must have unwittingly fallen to sleep because Aragorn was awoken by another of Legolas’ coughing fits. Opening his eyes he noticed that they sky had started graying with the rising sun and birds sung quietly in the highest branches of the trees. Aragorn turned over to see Angrod tending to his prince and knew that this current coughing spell was the opportunity that the healer needed. He grabbed the cup of water and quickly stirred in the herbs then turned back to Legolas, who seemed to have calmed now.

Aragorn looked to Angrod noting the look of relief at the absence of color on the cloth he had held to Legolas’ mouth as he coughed. Returning the reassuring expression, he motioned for the dark elf to lift their friend as he pressed the cup to Legolas’ lips. "Drink it all, Legolas, it will ease your discomfort." He felt guilty deceiving his friend and exchanged sorrowful looks with the dark elf who now assisted him. The look he received in return told him that Angrod knew what the King had done and approved.

Legolas slowly drained the cup and was rested back on the forest floor. Looking up at Aragorn with tired eyes, he slowly whispered. "How much did you give me?"

Shock surfaced on Aragorn’s face, he should have known he couldn’t trick the elf, they had been friends for too long. "I will keep giving you the herbs to get you home in comfort."

Legolas dipped his trembling chin in an attempted nodded and turned his face away from the King of Gondor, within moments Legolas was sleeping soundly, even his trembling had eased some. Aragorn listened quietly as Angrod sent up a prayer to the Valar. He sat for a moment silently saying his own prayer and collecting his thoughts, then jumped to his feet and set about waking the camp.

He made his way swiftly through the camp, calling to the sleeping soldiers, shouting out orders and commands as he went. He was ready to be on the trail home and did not want to delay their departure for anything. None of his men questioned his words and Aragorn was pleased that all seemed as eager to be on the road as he was. They moved quickly and quietly, with such precision that the King of Gondor found himself pausing to witness their level of professionalism. More than that, he marveled at the comradery of his men. Even though they didn’t speak, silent non-verbal communication could be seen occurring. Inside jokes and gestures were being constantly exchanged resulting in the occasional smile or laugh.

Tearing himself away from the impressive sight, Aragorn walked over to collect his own horse and belongings. Standing quietly between Aragorn’s horse and his own was Angrod speaking softly to the two animals. Both seemed just as anxious to be on the move as their riders and Angrod was nudged and scolded for leaving them locked up for so long. Aragorn began to load his things as he listened to the dark elf speak to the horses.

"Forgive me, I promise that once we return home both of you will be freed to run the plains of Gondor for the day." The horses seemed pleased with this offer and quieted down at the words. "But first, I need your help to get Prince Legolas home safely. Will you bear his litter a while longer?"

Both animals tossed their heads in the air and whinnied their acceptance and Aragorn knew beforehand that they would agree to help. All animals loved the golden elf and Aragorn suspected that if Angrod had asked a family of squirrels to pull Legolas home, they would comply. That thought caused a smile to spread over the King’s face as the animals were led to where the aforementioned elf slept.

Legolas was gently lifted onto the canvas and each end of the tent’s poles were raised by the four friends, just as they had done five days earlier. The contraption was fastened once again to the horses and blankets were placed securely around and atop the sick and injured elf. Once Legolas was settled, each friend stepped forward and whispered words of encouragement and comfort.

One by one they placed their hands on either side of his face and bent over so that only the elf could have heard them had he been awake. Once done they each gently kissed Legolas on the forehead and mounted their horses, ready for travel.

"There are others awaiting your return my friend. Let us not keep them waiting." Whispered the King of Rohan.

"There is still much for us to do and learn from each other. Do not think you can be rid of me so easily." Gimli wiped a single tear from his eye.

"Forgive me for failing you my Prince. I promise to never let you down again." The dark elf vowed.

"Come Legolas, let us go home. It is time." Aragorn strayed a moment longer, brushing the elf’s hair with his fingers once more. The act had become a habit over the past five days and it comforted him as much as he thought it comforted Legolas.

Swinging up onto his horse and looking down on the sleeping elf once more Aragorn then shouted the call to move out. The party had been successful, much was owed to Alcandir, they were bringing their lost friend home.

Chapter 29 - Homecoming

Faramir was tired. More tired than he had been in a long time. As he sat eating the midday meal with the Queen and his wife, he was tempted to go to his quarters, drop onto the bed and not rise for the remainder of the week. He knew, though, that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He hadn’t been able to get a decent night’s rest since Aragorn had left on his quest.

At times he wondered if he had gone mad when he had agreed to allow Aragorn to travel to Harad. What had he been thinking when he had thought it a good idea for King Elessar, Eomer King and Lord Gimli to ride into a hostile land? He was sure that the fact that they were going after an Elf Prince and Lord of Ithilien, who just so happened to be his good friend, had clouded his judgement. Perhaps he was just upset that he hadn’t gone with them and felt helpless sitting, awaiting their return.

Sitting was precisely what Faramir had been doing since bidding a safe and successful journey to his friends. He had been listening to grievances and attending court in Aragorn’s absence. He had signed his name to so many pieces of parchment that he was beginning to lose all feeling in his hand. His eyes were tired from reading all of the items that he had signed and he wondered how Aragorn did it all.

Now, as he sat, once again, sharing a brief rest period with Arwen and Eowyn, his thoughts once again strayed to Legolas and whether his rescuers had been successful. No word had reached his ears of the bounty hunter sent to Harad to retrieve the Prince and it was a constant worry for him and the two women in his company.

Comforting and reassuring them had become the most difficult task placed upon the steward. Especially because he had difficultly, himself, believing what he was telling them. He didn’t know for sure that Legolas would return at all. He couldn’t promise that Aragorn and Eomer would come home safely and without injury. Yet, he was always telling the Ladies that they were worrying for naught and all would be well.

"Faramir, my love, you have not eaten, is aught wrong?" Eowyn’s words brought the steward back to the present.

"Nay, my thoughts just runaway with me. Forgive me." His own voice sounded soft and distant to him. A testament to his wandering thoughts.

"Perhaps you should cancel this afternoon’s counsel and take some rest. I know that it is much needed." Arwen’s sweet voice advised and Faramir found it difficult to disagree with her.

Faramir smiled at the Queen and nodded slightly. He then took a large bite of the deer meat on his plate to appease his wife and Queen. The food lacked flavor to him, it was unusual, for the cooks in the Citadel were among the best in the realm and always prepared the finest of meals, he just wasn’t hungry. He forced himself to smile and then pushed the remaining food to the edges of his plate, hopefully the Ladies would think that he had eaten something.

He looked up into the disapproving eyes of his wife and blushed slightly, feeling like a small child who had just been caught. He was saved from her chastisement by a loud knock at the door. Beckoning the visitor enter, Faramir rose from his seat in greeting.

A young guard entered the dining hall and bowed to the trio. "Riders approach from the South, my Lord. They will reach the main gate within the hour."

"Are they expected to be King Elessar and his party?" Arwen asked as she stepped forward next to Faramir.

The guard seemed to ponder this for a moment as though searching his memory for some mention that the riders might be those in question. "I know not for certain my Queen. I just bear the message from the gate guard."

"Thank you. You are excused." Faramir said and the young guard bowed and backed out of the room.

The three stood, apprehension causing them each to fidget slightly. Could it be the long awaited party? It would be such a disappointment to ride down to meet them and find that riders were just coming from Osgiliath with errands. Not being able to contain his curiosity any longer, Faramir quickly exited the room followed shortly by Arwen and Eowyn.

"Do you suppose it is they?" Eowyn asked.

"I know as much as you my love, let us to the Citadel guard tower to see what there is to see." Faramir picked up his pace. He didn’t acknowledge the bows and "sirs" that greeted his path. His mind was focused on one thing.

Taking the steps two at a time up to the Citadel guard tower, Faramir’s breath came quick, his heart pounding. Silent pleading echoed through his head that it was the party of his friends and not something or someone with a more basic explanation. He was greeted at the top of the stairs by two guards whose eyes were focused out into the city.

"They have sent a messenger forward, my Lord, that makes me believe that it is King Elessar’s party and they bear wounded." One of the guard explained.

Faramir looked to the guard then turned his eyes out over the city and to the South. Sure enough, a party of riders was approaching at a slow pace. Several hundred yards ahead of the party a lone rider raced toward the gate. Faramir’s sight wasn’t good enough to make out the details of the approaching party and he squinted against the sun hoping it would help his vision.

"Can you tell if it is they?" Arwen and Eowyn had finally joined him on the watch tower.

Faramir lifted his hand to shade his eyes in a vain hope that it may assist him in seeing more clearly. "Nay Arwen, It is difficult to say from this distance."

"The messenger has entered the city My Lord" The guard interrupted once again and Faramir acknowledged him with a nod of the head then turned back toward the stairs.

The three royals drifted back down the stairs and across the courtyard to the Citadel entrance. They stood awaiting the messenger, the time seemingly slowing down to a mere crawl. Their small group had grown to a large crowd as word had spread and curiosity piqued in the King and Queen’s staff. The sound of sucking breath was increased as each of the waiting held their breath when the messenger rode through the Citadel gates. The rider dismounted and stepped before Faramir, Arwen and Eowyn.

With a deep bow he formally stated his business. "My Lord Faramir, I bring word from King Elessar."

"Speak." Faramir urged.

"The King sends word of a successful journey." Large smiles spread over the faces of those congregated and murmuring ensued. "He also requests that Prince Legolas’ room be prepared and healing supplies readied for his arrival." The crowd quieted instantly and the smiles faded.

Faramir lowered his head and stared at his shoes. How ignorant to believe that Legolas would be returned unharmed. It was all he could do to hope for the return of his friend, not much thought was given to the state of his return. He reached back and grabbed the hand of his wife. Her slender fingers slipped between his and Faramir was comforted by her presence as he was sure she was by his. He then turned to Arwen, her face was blank and her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the steward’s other hand.

The group that had assembled to hear the good news of the King’s return now stood, quietly whispering and consoling each other. The Elf Prince had become well loved in the White City and if he was lost it would be felt by all. Faramir scanned the faces of those surrounding him, each had a similar expression to Arwen and Eowyn, concern mixed with relief.

Then his eyes fell back to the messenger. The rider appeared exhausted as though he had not rested in days. He was filthy, dust covered him from head to toe and he panted softly. "Forgive me. Come, the cook will make you something to eat." He then turned to the crowd around him and began issuing orders.

People dispersed quickly to set about the tasks assigned. The cooks went to prepare food for the riders. Messengers were sent to retrieve healing herbs and supplies from the Houses of Healing. Maids set about preparing rooms for Eomer, Gimli, Angrod and Legolas. Legolas’ room was flooded with people coming and going. When the long awaited party finally rode through the Citadel gates, they were greeted by waiting servants and three very anxious friends.

Faramir stood, once again, at the head of those waiting, wringing his hands in anticipation. He watched the party approach, taking silent stock in what he saw. The party was two shy of what it had left with and all faces appeared tired. He could see several men with various wounds, some seemed more grave than others. He was relieved when he saw the faces of Eomer, Gimli and Aragorn. They all appeared no worse for the wear in appearance, but their countenance was grim and they each looked as though they carried a huge weight on their shoulders.

Faramir’s gaze then fell to the strange contraption hanging between Aragorn’s and Angrod’s horses. He had never seen anything like it before and was impressed with the ingenuity of it. It was when he saw the gold hair inside the strange litter that he stepped forward, raising his hand in greeting.

Arwen flew passed Faramir and into the arms of a barely dismounted Aragorn, about knocking him to the ground. The steward’s heart was warmed at the sight and he turned to Eowyn and pulled her forward with him. She in turn went to Eomer and embraced him. Faramir steadily made his way to the litter and looked down at the contents.

What greeted him knocked the breath from the steward. Legolas looked near death. He trembled uncontrollably and burned with fever. His face was pale and his hair damp with sweat. Faramir stood back speechless as he watched the stretcher removed from the horses. They didn’t remove the elf. He was carried directly inside and to his room whilst securely suspended in the canvas stretcher.

Faramir followed closely behind, Eowyn and Arwen just behind him. They followed Aragorn, Eomer, Angrod and Gimli as they carried Legolas through the halls and into his room. Faramir stepped forward and lifted the elf from the stretcher and placed him on the bed, then looked to Aragorn for explanation.

"I want you three," Aragorn stated pointing at Eomer, Gimli and Angrod, "To go, get something to eat and take some rest." The three did not argue, they each took one last look at Legolas and left the room.

The King then turned to the maids awaiting orders, "Please wait outside until you are summoned." He watched them leave then turned finally to the remaining three a sad smile on his face. "Do not worry overly much, he has awoken and we have spoken. I gave him a strong sleeping drought for the journey home. He is very ill and needs much care. I would like to start with bathing him and would request the Ladies’ help."

Faramir nodded and reached a hand to Legolas taking his hand briefly. The elf’s hand trembled in the steward’s grasp and his slender fingers felt icy to the touch. "I will wait here so that I may aid you if needed."

Aragorn nodded then scooped the elf up once more and headed into the bathing room. Arwen and Eowyn followed him in and the door closed behind them. The steward slumped down in a chair next to the bed and bent over resting his head in his hands. Valar, Give us strength.

Chapter 30 - To Measure Worth

Upon waking Legolas had found himself looking at the familiar sight of the ceiling in his personal quarters of the White City. It was a beautiful, welcoming vision to behold and after several moments of basking in the comfort he felt within this structure he began to wonder if it had all simply been a dream.

A cruel series of images it would have been, but if dreaming had been the cause of what he had endured then it was still a much more desirable scenario. No lives would have been lost, mortality placed on those it was not meant for always seemed so ironically cruel and yet in this case it was the only way to achieve freedom.

The falsehood of his hopes were quickly smashed when Legolas lifted his head and was accosted by an intense pain that started in his temples and slowly moved down the length of his body. Flopping his head back down on the pillow, his eyes clenched shut to fight the discomfort, the elf groaned softly, both out of torment and frustration. When the pain subsided and he reopened his eyes the white, textured ceiling was blocked from his view by the concerned faces of several of his friends.

Most prominently was that of Aragorn, which loomed directly in front of his face, the King’s gray eyes boring deeply into his own blue ones. It was a long minute before a smile appeared on the man’s regal face. Legolas rolled his eyes around stopping momentarily on each of his friends, the expressions on each of them mirroring that of Aragorn’s - relief, concern, love.

From that moment of waking on, for the next two weeks, Legolas was seldom left alone, something he was both grateful for and annoyed with. He had been so very alone while in Marek and yet he never had any time to himself to think. His friends had set up a schedule, one would be there when he woke, when he ate and when he slept. One was always there helping him recover his strength, re-bandage his wounds, making sure he ate properly. It was both calming and unnerving at the same time.

Each day of healing and fighting to regain control of his body seemed an eternity to the elf and he longed for nothing more than to just make it all go away.

Now, sitting on the balcony of his personal quarters, a blanket draped over his thin, trembling shoulders, Legolas gazed out over the Fields of Pelennor. He had found himself out here on several occasions, his eyes staring to the South. Whenever he was granted some moments peace from the constant ministrations, the golden elf would steal away to the balcony, his thoughts always wandering to Nienna, Lómëdil and Adaria.

Silent tears streamed down his cheeks as memories flooded back to him. He hated himself for being so weak. He hadn’t done anything to help the three elves and they had lost their lives. He had been used as a weapon against them and they as a method of control against him. He hated that he was so ill and that he couldn’t control the emotions that he felt. Most of all, he hated the feeling of helplessness that had consumed him so much lately.

Legolas wanted, more than anything, to just be by himself, in the woods of Ithilien, reconnecting with Arda but the elf could barely walk across the room. He was weak and ill and his knee could only hold his weight for a few steps before buckling. He had resorted to using a walking stick to relieve some of the strain on the damaged joint. The prince felt so unlike himself that he began to wonder if he really was Legolas Greenleaf, Son of Thranduil.

His healing process had been slowed so dramatically by the venom that had been poured into him. He could feel the vile liquid burning in his veins and surging through his head. Still, the most frustrating effect was the trembling. It had decreased in intensity but still shook his entire body and Legolas could not control it.

"Legolas?" The Prince jumped at the sound of his name and hand placed upon his shoulder. He didn’t turn to greet his visitor, he didn’t acknowledge the dark elf at all, he just continued to stare out over the fields.

"My Prince, how do you fare?" Angrod pressed a little more for Legolas’ attention.

Legolas sighed and remained quiet for a moment before answering, his voice still raspy, but not quite as strained. "The same as yesterday." His eyes never leaving the South.

Angrod sat next to his prince and looked directly at him. "I am returning to Ithilien. I have come to bid you farewell. I will return as soon as possible."

This got Legolas’ attention and he stiffly turned his head to Angrod, puzzlement in his eyes. "Why do you leave now?"

Angrod held Legolas’ gaze, willing him to see no placed fault or accusation in his eyes. "Those in Ithilien do not know all that has transpired, I think that it is time they were informed of your fate and the fate of the others."

Swallowing hard and lifting a trembling hand to his brow, Legolas rubbed his head and fought the tears. "I should be the one to tell them. I am the one who failed them."

"You have failed no one My Prince."

Legolas shook his head at this statement, ignoring the pain it caused. He knew that the death of the other elves was a result of his behavior. He knew that his status had also been a cause of the torment they had all undergone.

"Would we have sent a party after the others had we known where they were?" Legolas asked with a quivering voice.

"Only you can truly answer that Legolas. The decision would have been yours to make." Angrod stated simply as he knelt before the elf prince.

"All of my life I have been regarded above others. Elves have died to protect me. Kalen, the Lord of Marek, paid more when he discovered whom I was. Aragorn risked the lives of his men, two of which died, to bring me home." Legolas paused, almost as if in midthought, he searched for the words to explain how he felt.

Before he could continue, Angrod interjected. "You are a Prince of noble blood. You are the son of Thranduil and grandson of Oropher, whether you want to accept it or not you are of a higher status than others and your life is valued above others."

"Why? I have done naught to earn such a status."

Angrod laughed at this remark. "You have done naught? You were one of the Nine Walkers, one of the only elves to fight at the Black Gate in the War of the Ring. You have led your people with such honor and love that they are willing to die for you, whether it be their duty or not. Even were you not a Prince of Elves I would gladly lay down my life to protect you and I know that you would do the same for me." Tears now appeared in Angrod’s own eyes and he took a shuddering breath before continuing. "That you believe that you are of equal standing with other elves you have led says much of your character and it is one of the reasons that you are so well loved."

Legolas listened to Angrod, eyes glistening with tears. It was both a blessing and a curse to be a Prince and in all his years, the golden elf had never learned how to balance the two. He enjoyed being with his people and socializing with them on equal ground. He welcomed all into his home and considered all opinions before making a decision. He did not force any to come to Ithilien to help and granted those ready for the Undying Lands leave, with his blessing. To have Kalen use his bloodline so maliciously had been a shock to Legolas.

"I doubt that Alcandir felt my life was worth him almost losing his own. I doubt those soldiers would have opted to travel to Harad given the choice."

Angrod thought about this for just a moment. "The soldiers were given a choice My Prince. And Alcandir was honored to have been selected for the job and pleased that he had succeeded."

The two sat in silence for a long while. Legolas’ thoughts still on the horrible memories of his time in Harad and the value of life. He did not want to be valued above anyone. He had learned too much during his time with the Fellowship to ever believe that one being was better than another. It had taken each member of that unique group to accomplish what had been accomplished. Each had contributed in their own way. Legolas was proud and thankful for the time he had been allotted with the Fellowship and would not allow the Lord of Marek to take that away from him.

"I cannot ever ask anyone to sacrifice their lives for me again. I am no better than any other." Legolas’ soft voice broke the silence.

"You may not ask it, but it will be done. You cannot take that honor from me. I promised your father that I would protect you. I failed once, I will not fail again." Anger seethed from Angrod. "Value is placed by individuals, by friends and family. I value your life and friendship more than my own and that is my decision and if there are others who choose to make that decision then there is naught you can do about it."

Angrod enveloped Legolas in a hug and held the Prince while quiet sobs racked his form. The hurt in Legolas’ heart was too great to fight the tears any longer and he let them loose on his friend. Angrod was right, Legolas would sacrifice his own life for the dark elf, he would sacrifice his life for any of the elves in his colony if the need arose.

Angrod waited for his Prince to calm then released his hold. He smiled then rose from his seat and stepped toward the balcony door. Something stopped him in his tracks and he stood in the doorway for a moment.

"We would have sent a party to retrieve the other elves My Prince." Angrod’s voice was strong and determined. "You would not have let them suffer there alone. You would have led the rescue party yourself, had you known where they were." The dark elf then bowed low and left Legolas to himself.

The blonde elf sat for just a bit longer, thinking about Angrod’s words, then reached down and grabbed the walking stick he had been using. He rose from the bench on which he sat and slowly made his way back into the room and toward the door. He felt awkward using the support, it made him feel clumsy and weak, but he couldn’t move without it so he had accepted its help.

Ever so slowly, Legolas made his way through the halls of the Citadel and out the main doors. How he managed to get this far without being spotted by one of his many mothering friends was still a mystery to him, but he was thankful nevertheless. The stairs outside the Citadel presented the most challenge but the golden elf took them slowly and was awarded when he finally reached the garden that was his destination.

Each step was a struggle, his knee protesting under the extended use, his shoulder screaming at him for the pressure placed upon it. But with each step his resolve strengthened and his muscles seemed to become stronger, his pain seemed to diminish. Each step brought a new image to his mind. The frightened faces of Nienna, Lómëdil and Adaria, the compassionate eyes of Alcandir. The memory of each of these individuals leant him strength.

He longed so much to release the three elves from the pain they had endured, he was calmed by the knowledge that they were now in the Halls of Mandos, safe and at ease.

He desired to speak with Alcandir again but knew that there was nothing that he could do or say to express his gratitude to the bounty hunter. The man did not even know him and had risked his life to save the elf. What type of person did such a thing? He feared that he would never know, his hopes disappearing with the man himself.

After much work and determination, Legolas settled himself up against a malorn tree, which had been gifted to Arwen at her wedding. He leaned into the tree and listened as the tree welcomed him home and he in turn thanked the tree for its comforting support and beauty. He promised that he would soon be sitting in its branches again.

A gentle breeze kicked up and rustled the leaves overhead, Legolas closed his eyes and inhaled a large cool breath. No coughing overcame him and his lungs did not burn with the large amount of air. His hair was picked up by the breeze and tossed around his face, tickling his nose. He pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders and then reached his hand up to brush the hair away from his face.

Legolas then stopped with his hand suspended in front of his face. His long slender fingers were stretched out and he turned his hand over looking from his palm to the back of his hand. A large smile spread over his face, it reached up to his eyes and the blue within brightened. His hand was steady. There was no more trembling. He then lifted his other hand and held it out next to the other, neither shook, neither arm ached. They were both unwavering.

Epilogue

Alcandir was in need of starting another job. He had returned home and spent a couple of months resting and catching up with his friends and surrogate family. The time was an enjoyable and much needed retreat. It was something that the bounty hunter hadn’t done in years. He had been too wound up in his work to take such a break.

But, the job had called to him and eventually Alcandir wanted nothing more than to be venturing the lands and doing what he did best. There were always men who were wanted by either the Gondorian or Rohirrim law and he had no qualms about helping them.

Some days he wondered about Medero and what he was doing now. He had hoped that the man had given up slave driving, but new that he wouldn’t be able to return to bounty hunting in Gondor, there was too much risk that the elf prince would recognize him. He could always speak to Legolas on behalf of Medero, he knew that the Prince would be reasonable, but had decided that it was probably best for the man to stay as far away from him as possible. After all, he didn’t need any competition when it came to his work.

Alcandir had made his way through the various levels of the White City, stopping here and there to look at the wares or have a quick drink. He had bumped into a few old friends and exchanged quick greetings with them before moving on.

Finally coming to the Minas Tirith jail, the man laughed quietly then entered the building. It had been so long ago since he had been here and the last time hadn’t been in the manner he was used to. He was more accustomed to being on the outside rather than behind the bars.

"Well look who has finally decided to return." The guard laughed at the sight of the bounty hunter.

"Hello Daron, any good prospects today?" Alcandir queried as he came to stand before Daron who sat casually, his legs stretched out with his heals resting atop the desk behind which he sat.

"Plenty." Daron answered, handing Alcandir a stack of papers.

Alcandir scanned through the pages and sketches one at a time, reviewing each one. He could never quite figure out a method for choosing a target. Sometimes it was the look of the person, sometimes the extent of the crime they were wanted for but there was never really any determining factors for the choice he made.

Being back in the jailhouse reminded him of the last time he was in Minas Tirith and that in turn reminded him of Legolas. Had the elf survived the journey home? Was he fully healed? He had thought often about the golden elf. He had, never before, taken on a task of such a personal nature. It had been very rewarding, on a personal level, for him to return a loved one to their friends and family. He had briefly thought of a career change, but didn’t think there was much use for a professional rescuer. Besides, the pay wasn’t all that good.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Daron interrupted the bounty hunter’s thoughts. "Lord Faramir was down here about two weeks ago asking about you."

This definitely piqued Alcandir’s interest and he gave his full attention to the jailhouse guard.

"Apparently he knew that you would be coming in soon because he left something for you." Daron swung his feet to the floor, pulled some keys from his belt and bent to the bottom drawer of the desk. Unlocking the drawer, he pulled out a leather envelope and tossed it at Alcandir.

The bounty hunter caught the envelope, untied the bindings and opened it to reveal a thick stack of Gondorian and Rohirrim banknotes. He didn’t count the money but rather pulled out the handwritten note placed on top of the stack.

No amount will ever equal the worth of that which you have returned to us. Many Thanks. -A

Alcandir read the note twice. He was surprised at the personal touch of the letter. There was no seal used and the signature was informal. The bounty hunter would never take advantage of the debt they felt they owed, he had done the job he was hired to do.

"What is it Alcandir?" The look of curiosity on Daron’s face almost made the bounty hunter laugh.

"It is nothing, just a small note regarding a job I did. Thanks Daron, I think I have one here that will keep me busy for a while." He took one of the pages and folded it, placing it in the pocket next to the leather envelope. He then moved to exit the jailhouse but stopped in his tracks and turned back to the jailer, a curious look on his face.

Tucking the envelope back into his coat pocket, he began to wonder about the Elf Prince. The note had not mentioned his condition and Legolas had been so sick whenhe had left the camp. "Tell me Daron, when last I was in Minas Tirith news had reached my ears that Prince Legolas had been abducted. What word is there?"

"The Lord of Ithilien was returned to the city a couple of months ago. He was ill for many weeks and many times word had spread through the city that he had passed.He is well now." Daron paused momentarily and glanced over the bounty hunter’s shoulder. "If you wish to see for yourself." The jailer tossed his head back and pointed to the door with his chin.

Alcandir listened intently to what Daron told him and was surprised by the last sentence. Lifting an inquisitive eyebrow at the young guard, he turned slowly toward the door and caught the tail end of a white horse passing just outside, across the courtyard. With barely little thought and almost on reflex, he hurried to the door and stuck his head out. There, riding through the Citadel gates was a very healthy, happy Elf Prince.

Perched behind Legolas was a ecstatic looking Gimli. The dwarf looked comfortable in his seat and was speaking with a vigor about something that broadened the smile upon Legolas’ face. He continued to watch the two, taking special note of the elf’s appearance.

Small, inconspicuous dark circles still surrounded Legolas’ eyes. He noted as Gimli raised his hand as though to pat Legolas on the back. His hand halted several inches above the elf’s right shoulder and hovered there momentarily, the dwarf then slid his arm around the elf, his gruff, strong hand gripping the elf’s upper arm before the pair continued their lively conversation.

Yet, had Alcandir not known to watch for such things he would not have even perceived anything wrong with Legolas. Legolas glowed, he looked almost angelic and Alcandir found himself staring, proudly at the golden elf as though we were watching his own child or a dear friend.

"He came in asking about you." Daron’s steady voice pulled Alcandir from his observation.

"Hmm?" The bounty hunter was so engrossed in memory he wasn’t sure as to what the jailer was referring.

"Lord Legolas." Daron responded. "He has been in here a couple of times asking about you and inquiring as to when you would be in again."

Alcandir eased away from the entryway and faced Daron, searching for any sign of jest.

"What did you do to warrant the attention of the Steward of Gondor and the Elf Prince?" Daron questioned.

Alcandir turned back to the doorway but remained tucked within the shadows of the building to stay out of sight, his eyes falling on the being who had once been the target of his search.

"Nothing I wouldn’t do again."

A melodic laugh filled the air and it brought a smile to Alcandir’s face, his own laugh echoing the elf’s.

The End