*Permission was granted by Cassia and Sio to reference events in the Mellon Chronicles.*

Crebain, Part Two

The sun was setting on the Fellowship's third day out from Imladris. The December air warmed slightly as the party traveled South, past many ruins of days gone by. Some of the crumbling monuments Aragorn recognized, and many he'd intended on exploring during his years as a Ranger. But time and duty had intervened, and now his life seemed to have culminated to this one quest. A sense of urgency pushed him harder, as well as his need to keep pace with Gandalf, who traveled as if the very winds of Mordor pulled at him.

Taking the rear of their group, the ranger kept a close eye on the hobbits, Frodo in particular. The wound from the Morgul blade had not completely healed. Gandalf claimed it never would. Frodo would carry it for the rest of his life. Aragorn's larger concern delt with whether or not the wound would fester later on, or if the poison still residing in the hobbit would act as a beacon should the Nazgûl draw near.

Such musings kept his mind off of other things that troubled him, one of them being a sullen face with beautiful blue eyes that watched over him in his dreams. He knew his decision to break away from the Undomiel was the right one; and his father was happy with that choice as well, but Aragorn's heart was torn, bruised, and ached deep inside his soul. Leaving her felt as if he'd left a part of himself behind; a part that he could never replace.

Ahead of him, in front, Legolas walked tall beside Gandalf, elf and wizard speaking in the grey tongue at times. They kept just ahead of the fellowship, stopping from time to time, discussing their road, one or the other pointing off in one direction. Before their departure, Gandalf had conferred with Aragorn on the best road to the Mountain of Doom, but it was on the elf's keen senses the wizard depended now. Aragorn's skills at tracking were unmatched, but he could not see the beak of a crebain a league away nor hear the drum of goblins miles before their arrival.

Brisk wind blew down from the Caradhras as the party turned south-east. The hobbits Merry and Pippin talked quietly amongst themselves. Sam had remained silent for the last hour, his gaze shifting to Frodo continuously. The ring bearer had also remained quiet, almost pensive. Aragorn could only guess the thoughts that ran through the hobbit's mind. So much responsibility rested on Frodo's shoulders. Aragorn could understand, for his own future was wrought with innuendo and uncertainty. Some said he was to be a King, others believed he was simply a coward who ran from his responsibility. The later he saw in Boromir's eyes during those brief glimpses when he caught the Gondorian staring at him.

The ranger's thoughts returned again and again to Arwen and the emptiness in his heart. His attention was focused so much on his memory of the look in her eye upon their parting as he left the gates of the only home he'd ever known, that he came up short behind Boromir as the company came to a stop. Gandalf suggested a nearby rock outcropping as a place to camp for the night. Aragorn had not noticed the time of day, and was surprised to see the sun sinking below the mountain range.

As Sam cooked an evening meal, and the hobbits settled in with light talk and laughter, Aragorn noticed Legolas was no longer sitting among them in the circle. Boromir had also left. Nodding to Gandalf seated beside Frodo, the two of them smoking steadily on pipe-weed, the ranger moved out of the comforting light and heat of the fire.

He listened to the night, cold wind moving his dark brown hair about his face. He heard conversation to his right near a cropping of rocks. He recognized Boromir's voice immediately - the Gondorian's tone urgent but low. Aragorn moved quietly toward the rocks and was surprised to see his friend standing in what he recognized as a fight-ready stance. Legolas' back was against the largest of the rocks. Boromir stood in front of him, blocking any easy way around the human. The elf's quiver and arrows lay on one of the knee high rocks, and Aragorn believed the elf had been checking his fletchings when the Gondorian had approached him.

Legolas' bow lay propped on the other side of the smaller rocks, inaccessible to the elf. He held an arrow down low in his right hand, its tip pointing toward Boromir, who was gesturing emphatically as he spoke.

The elf's voice was just as low and insistant. "We travel west of the Misty Mountains. That is Gandalf's course. We will reach the Gap of Rohan - but then we turn west."

"If we travel to Rohan, then why not on to Minas Tirith? We could pick up re-enforcements, men who can protect the ring. Then we can march straight into Mordor and do what must be done."

It seemed to Aragorn that Boromir had trouble actually vocalizing the destruction of the ring. Perhaps the thought of its destruction was indeed to painful for the Gondorian to withstand? The Ranger knew the extend to which Boromir desired to use the Ring to destroy Gondor's enemies, but the man did not - or perhaps could not - understand the enormity of the Ring's evil. For if Gandalf the Grey feared it turning his own good nature to that of evil and darkness, what hope could simple men have?

The ranger started to take a step toward the two. Perhaps Boromir believed he could persuade the wizard to head into Gondor by convincing the elf. Boromir had the right to wish to protect the White City, but he had no business harassing Legolas, not that Aragorn had said three words to his old friend since their departure from Imladris. There was a tension between them Aragorn did not understand, but he knew it wasn't placed there by the elf, but by his own fears and doubts.

Aragorn paused when he heard Legolas speak. The elf's voice was low, and his tone was not one the ranger believed the Gondorian should toy with. "The whole purpose of the Nine is safety in invisibility, Boromir of Gondor. Marching into Minas Tirith with the ring? Marching into Mordor with flags waving? That is suicide. It is with the cloak of secrecy that we can tiptoe into Mordor, beneath the noses of the Dark Lord's spies and destroy the ring."

"And who are you to say where we go?" Boromir took a single step closer. "Who are you to lead us? Who are you that Gandalf Greyhem takes council from?"

Aragorn was behind Boromir in three steps. "He is Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil. You would do wise to listen to him."

Boromir whirled, his hand on his sword hilt. At the sight of Aragorn behind him, he did not draw his weapon. His eyes grew darker beneath the moonlight and his brows knitted together. "A prince?"

"Aye," Aragorn nodded. There was symmetry in him coming to Legolas' defense, just as the elf had come to his defense in the council meeting. "He lived during the Battle of the Five Armies. He has the experience of generations of lifetimes of men, long before your ancestors rose to the stewardship of Gondor. His keen senses are what Mithrandir depends upon, not his leadership skills." Aragorn looked past Boromir to his friend. A half smile pulled at the elf's lips. The ranger looked back to the Gondorian. "Though I know from experience he can lead. His father is a good King, and teacher."

Boromir's eyes searched Aragorn's face. "I only wish to protect Frodo and the ring." He cast his glance away. "I worry for my people, Aragorn." He looked back to the Ranger with a fierce gaze. "I worry for our people."

"I'm sure you do," Aragorn said, a bit more patronizingly than he intended. There was much to Boromir that he did not know; what drove him, what dreams haunted him at night that caused him to toss and turn upon his bedroll. Aragorn knew he was wrong in judging the man, and wished he did not suspect the man so.

Quicker than Aragorn had seen in many years, Legolas lept over the rock, retrieved his bow, and with the arrow he'd clutched in his hand, sent the deadly shaft off into the darkness with an audible "thwang".

Boromir turned again, and the two humans watched as the elf nimbly ran off into the darkness. Boromir drew his blade, and crouched. "Did his keen senses detect enemies?"

Aragorn laughed softly when he saw Legolas jogging back, a rabbit held in his hand. The elf offered the prize to Boromir. "You did not eat earlier."

Aragorn believed the man would refuse the gift. Instead the Gondorian resheathed his sword and took the rabbit. "So, we are not enemies?"

Legolas shook his head. "We wish the same thing - the safety of Middle-Earth. I am not your enemy, Boromir of Gondor. None of us are."

Boromir nodded slowly, his gaze studying the elf in the moonlight. He held the rabbit up so as to see it clearer. "A fine catch. I'll see if Sam would like to add another meat to the pan." He nodded to the elf, nodded to Aragorn, then moved away from them, back in the direction of the fire.

When Boromir was out of sight, Aragorn turned back to Legolas, but the elf was no longer standing before him. He was sitting relaxed upon the rock, carefully returning his arrows to his quiver. The distance the ranger had felt widening since their departure now threatened to become a chasm.

With a deep breath, he approached his old friend. "In Rivendell...I didn't mean to imply..."

Legolas set his quiver down and spoke at the same time. "With Undómiel, I didn't mean to imply..."

Both stopped and grinned at one another. The air filled with the nervous laughter of unspoken misunderstandings.

"I'm sorry about Boromir." Aragorn said.

"About Boromir?" Legolas looked to his right at the night as he spoke. "You needn't be. He can't help the way he feels. He is worried about his father and his home." The elf's pupils were wide, drinking in the moonlight, making his irises completely black. "As I worry about my own home and how the evil still spreads though the Necromancer has been long gone from Dol Guldur." He looked at Aragorn. "There is great darkness near us here, mellon-nin. And it is looking for us."

The ranger felt a shiver travel from his neck to his lower back as the elf turned that erie gaze on him. Legolas glowed softly in the dark, as all elves did. It was in that light that he saw his old friend smile at him. "Are you no longer angry at me?"

"Angry?" Aragorn shook his head quickly. "I have never been angry with you, mellon nin - only maybe..." he shrugged. "You could comfort her. I could only..."

"Break her heart," Legolas finished for him.

"No, no. I did not intend that. Arwen is strong - she understands what lies before us." He leaned his head to the left. "Are you angry with me? For what I did?"

The elf shook his head, though his attention was again drawn into the night. "I understand, Strider. She will be safe in the grey havens. And you will fullfill your destiny." He turned and fixed Aragorn with a willful stare. "And I will be beside you. Every step."

"Is that what you meant, when you said that our ends were the same, even if our paths were different?"

Legolas smiled, and Aragorn was as always taken with how young the elf appeared to be. "Perhaps."

There was a pause before the night was filled with soft laughter between old friends. Aragorn held his right hand out to Legolas, and the elf clasped it with his own right hand. To Aragorn's surprise, the elf pulled him forward and took him into a warm embrace.

"Beware the Gondorian, Estel," Legolas whispered in his ear. "The Ring makes treachery there - and we cannot let him falter in this quest. It could be our undoing."

Aragorn stepped back and looped his thumbs upon the top of his leather belt. "I know," Aragorn's voice sounded heavy, even to his own ears.

Legolas nodded slowly. His gaze turned again to the night. The constant attention the elf turned to something he could not see or hear filled Aragorn with unease. "Mellon-nin, do you sense something?"

"Always," the elf's voice was soft, his attention focused on things beyond the ranger's mortal senses. "We have enemies everywhere. I can feel a great arm reaching out, over the mountains, searching for us."

"Saruman?" Aragorn's jaw tightened. Damn the old wizard for falling into darkness. An Istari of the white would be a valuable ally to have right now. "No more distance between us, Legolas. We need to focus on our quest - on saving middle earth from darkness."

"Aye..." Legolas nodded slowly. He narrowed his eyes as he looked into the night. The moon overhead only aided his ethereal elven glow. "The sky is watching."

Aragorn shivered. A wolf howled in the night.

For three days more Legolas and Gandalf lead the Fellowship over the outcroppings of rocks and stones, heading south. The elf kept a step or two in front of the wizard as the Istari checked on those behind them. A mile ahead Legolas caught site of a small flat area upon a hill. He suggested to Gandalf they stop, as Pippin had asked him that morning for a chance at "second breakfast".

Legolas had developed a fondness for the young hobbit, who often brought a smile to his face even if the dwarf could take it away. Gimli had done nothing but complain since their course turned south-east. In an odd moment, the small creature had suggested to Legolas that visiting his cousin Balin in Moria would remove weeks from their travels.

The elf had shivered at the thought of descending into Moria again. Bad things had happened to he and Aragorn there. On their first visit together, Legolas believed he'd nearly lost Aragorn to the orcs, his friend suffering pain and torture at their hands. He himself had been infected with a Morgul poison that had nearly ended his life. Another memorable instance had been when he and Aragorn were smuggled out in sacks - not an experience he wanted the dwarf to know about.

Legolas had immediately told the dwarf no. Mithrandir lead the Fellowship down the safest road. Gimli had muttered something in dwarvish and ambled off.

As the Fellowship settled themselves among the rocks, Legolas kept sentry - his senses detecting something present. Though he couldn't discern what. Every alarm he possessed, every gift the Valar had graced him with, was on full alert. He continued to peer into the distance, stepping lightly from one stone to the next.

Sam set up a small fire and began cooking. The elf overheard Boromir suggesting he and Merry and Pippin continue their sparing lesson from the day before. The Gondorian believed the hobbits needed to learn how to defend themselves. Legolas had noticed an interesting friendship developing between the two hobbits and the human. There was a bond forming - one that somehow he knew would be important, even if he didn't completely trust Boromir.

He heard Estel stepping over the bolders behind him, the pungent odor of pipe-weed accompanying him. "Legolas?"

The elf glanced back at his friend. "I'm not sure. The sky is watching..."

Estel's expression darkened. "Just signal if you see or hear anything. You are our eyes and ears, mellon-nin."

Legolas turned and gave his old friend a sly smile. "I'll keep that in mind. Go - relax and enjoy yourself."

With a smile, the human moved away and found a flat rock near where Boromir spared with the hobbits.

Gandalf sat up and to the right of Legolas as he looked into the north from where they traveled. Something called in his mind - a voice very far away. It spoke to the wind...

The elf turned slowly, his gaze sweeping the horizon.

He heard Gimli once again bring up the subject of Moria and his cousin, only this time it was to Gandalf. But Gandalf refused the dwarf's consideration just as Legolas had. The wizard's voice was low and the elf detected a bit of fear.

Again the scream in his mind.

Legolas turned to the east and nimbly ran along the stones to the edge of the out-cropping. He was vaguely aware of the scuffle of the hobbits and Boromir. All his senses were alive - and finally - there in the distance, he saw a disturbance in the air. He heard the screams this time, not in his mind, but with his ears. He felt the air move. He smelled the foul breath of Mordor - of brimstone and death.

The sky was watching them.

"What is that?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. Just a whif of clouds," Gimli insisted.

"It's moving fast...against the wind," Boromir commented.

Legolas' eyes widened as the cloud came into sharp focus. This was no cloud, but the movements of hundreds of black wings and ebony feathers, harsh, sharp beaks and a group mind that listened to only one master. He had seen this enemy before during his travels with Aragorn. He knew what their presence meant - as would Gandalf.

The sky was watching. Sauron was watching them.

He sounded the alarm. "Crebain from Dunland!"