List of Characters:

Legolas: Come on

Thranduil: Legolas’s father and King of the Wood land Realm

Girithron: Legolas’s elder brother, the third child and second son of Thranduil. Is the heir to the kingdom as Thranduil’s eldest, Celeguir, was killed at Dagorland.

Brethil: the warrior who saved Legolas from an orc, and goes with him to Imladris.

Adwanoth: Captain of the Palace Guard

Lalorn: Legolas’s mother

Hananuir: the third son and fourth child of Thranduil, one of Legolas’s older brother.

Gwiwileth: Thranduil’s only daughter and second child, Legolas’s sister.

Lebanuir: Guard who is assigned to watch Gollum. Was a friend to Hananuir.

Danuas: Another Elven guard.

Ivanneth: Thranduil’s chief Advisor.

Faelthinor: Younger warrior and friend of Legolas, who goes with him to Imladris.

Neldorin: Veteran warrior who accompanies Legolas to Imladris.

Maen: Legolas’s horse.

Carad: Hananuir’s horse.

Annalith: Imladris Elf, healer.

Banuir: Another Imladris Elf, also a healer.

Oranor: Another Imladris Elf, helped carry Hananuir’s litter.

Paerith: Another Imladris Elf, helped carry Hananuir’s litter.

Srahalor: Leader of the Imladris Party.

Ivrinaur: A healer in Imladris, a surgeon.

Jaeron: An Imladris captain.

Thanks to Hisie Lome for beta-reading this. J

The Result of Failure

Chapter Seven: The Result of Failure

Aragorn strode quickly from the shelter of the hallways of Imladris, preferring the silence of the forest to calm his mind’s inner turmoil. The Council that morning had riled him.  Although the Dúnedain had known almost all of which had been said, beforehand. But some things could not be shaken off lightly...Boromir, for instance.

Aragorn was not an overly suspicious man; however, he distrusted something of that man of Gondor.  Aragorn also did not appreciate Boromir’s petition to use the Ring for good. In his mind, the ranger knew there was something else wrong, something that ran deeper…

…Gollum. Aragorn did not feel totally secure knowing that creature was on the loose.  No doubt, on it’s way to Mordor. Aragorn sighed. He had trusted the Woodland Elves! But the ranger knew in his heart that Legolas was just as upset over this as he was. It must have deeply incensed the Prince of Mirkwood’s pride to admit failure to the Council. Nay, but it wasn’t just Gollum either.

Aragorn knew it couldn’t be the Ring. He had known about it for some time, and although the notion of its discovery had been unsettling at first. But, Aragorn had grown used to it. The fact that the Ring was in Imladris and so close to him, served only to highlight the growing darkness that was spreading all over Arda. There was something else that he could not put his finger on…

Aragorn turned his head sharply as he heard approaching footsteps. He relaxed instantly as he recognized them as Elvish. His guess was correct as Legolas shortly came into view. The Prince of Mirkwood was frowning pensively, and was not paying attention to his surroundings.

“Suilad”, Aragorn spoke softly, but Legolas was nevertheless startled. He jumped, but smiled after identifying Aragorn.

Aragorn chuckled. “Again my Mannish senses have bested you. I do believe that is the second time I have startled you.”

Legolas did not laugh. “Perhaps, but I was deep in thought. There is much to mull over after the Council.”

“Indeed.” The two walked in companionable silence through the thick trees that bordered Imladris.

“Aragorn,” Legolas began suddenly, “although there are many things that require much thought, and careful analysis, there is something that sticks out at me, and I cannot seem to forget it.” Aragorn nodded and Legolas continued.

“Do you recall what Lord Elrond said, after Bilbo said he would take the Ring? He told Bilbo to stay in Imladris to write a sequel to his book when ‘they’ come back. Bilbo asked who ‘they’ were, and Lord Elrond answered they were the messengers who would be sent with the Ring. Also, at the end of the Council, that other hobbit, Sam is his name I think, asked to accompany Frodo. Lord Elrond said that ‘he at least would go.’^* In both instances, Lord Elrond implied that Frodo would not be going alone to Mordor, but some others would accompany him.”

Aragorn had stopped walking, as he heard Legolas speak, for something in the back of his mind had sounded a warning at his friend’s words.

“Lord Elrond said both Frodo and Sam would be going, but he said messengers. I have concluded that more than one other shall accompany them to Mordor. I...” Legolas stopped talking mid-sentence, and hung his head as if ashamed.

“What, Legolas? You can tell me.” Aragorn’s curiosity was piqued, and he wondered what point Legolas was trying to make.

“Well, I can’t shake the feeling that I am destined to accompany Frodo.” Aragorn stopped listening, although Legolas continued speaking. That was the feeling he had; a feeling of impending doom, and inevitable fate. Was Aragorn also destined to join these ‘Messengers?’

“Aragorn, did you hear what I said?” Legolas was frowning at him, and Aragorn had to shake his head sheepishly. “I said that something must be wrong, because I cannot possibly go. Why would anyone need my help, when there are others, such as Glorfindel to go?”

Aragorn completely ignored Legolas’s question while his mind continued listing the possibilities. One thought occurred to Aragorn: why was he destined to go? Could it be…?  He did not dare complete the thought, yet in his heart he felt the weight of doom drag his feet down like lead upon the ground. It was time, it seemed. 

Legolas’s voice brought him back to the present. “I am very glad my words have evoked a reaction from you, Aragorn, but I would like to know what it is. Aragorn?”

“Forgive me, my friend. It was just that I have been having the same feeling that you described. I could not place it, but now I know that it is a prediction of danger ahead. It is unlike anything I have ever faced before, Legolas, for something in my heart chills me. I do not know what it is.”

“Do not worry yourself needlessly, for how can we be certain that our guesses are correct? I would not dare ask Lord Elrond. Mithrandir would not tell us either, for he delights in concealing information,” Legolas smiled wryly, “that does not seem ripe to be shared. I wonder what the future holds for us, Aragorn.”

“You always wonder what the future holds, Legolas, while others wiser than you are content to let it come.” Aragorn smiled and let conversation drift to other areas, which did not hold such fear or uncertainty.

*

Mithrandir watched the two figures make their way out of his sight on the path below. He sighed wearily at the changes taking place, and the decisions that had to be made. He turned to regard the room’s other occupant, the Lord of Imladris.

Elrond was seated in an ornately carved chair, staring into nothing, his forehead creased in thought. He shook his head slowly, as if finally coming to a decision, and turned to look at Mithrandir.

“Mithrandir, I have come to believe now that you are right. This group we send with Frodo must number more than yourself and the two hobbits. They would be lost without you, and the path to Mordor is long and dangerous. But, have a care, the number must also be small, for we cannot risk discovery. Concealment and stealth must be our weapons.”

“You speak wisely, Elrond. I feel that we should have a representative of every race connected with the Ring, who has the power and will to fight it. This evil will affect everyone in Arda,” he added at Elrond’s disapproving frown. “It is not fair that only some races should have a say.”

Elrond nodded reluctantly and looked out the window. He spoke slowly. “I see the wisdom in what you are saying, Mithrandir. I am just loath to make the knowledge of the Ring so public. There could be a spy…”

Mithrandir interrupted irritably. “There is no spy that can infiltrate into Imladris!” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “What of Nenya?”

“She is still powerful. I am able to protect my own people, Mithrandir.” Elrond swatted distractedly at thin air, and then stopped, as if realizing what he was doing. “I asked you for advice, please advise me.”

“I already have.” The wizard’s eyes twinkled.

Elrond shook his head, muttering something about “immaturity”, but smiled at Mithrandir’s jibe.

“Very well, then O Master of Advice, you suggest that a member of every free race be included in this venture. Duly noted, of course. Now, let me see, that would mean Elves, Men, Dwarves, and Hobbits?” Mithrandir nodded and Elrond continued.

“You would represent wizards, I supposed, but that is irrelevant, because you are going anyway. Frodo and Sam would represent Hobbits, and now we come to the point. We need an Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf. Who would you suggest?”

“The Man from Gondor, Boromir. He is courageous, perhaps a bit rash, but he would be loyal to the group. He would be returning to Minas Tirith anyway, and the route is the same.”

Elrond nodded slowly. “I suppose it is logical. But, Mithrandir, have you not also read the signs? Boromir will not be the only Man in the group, for I have Seen another.”

“Aragorn must go.” The words lay heavy in the still air, like dead weights.

“Yes, he must,” Elrond murmured softly. “He is the heir of Isildur and it his destiny.”

“You knew that this day would come. The Line of Kings cannot remain forever broken. Aragorn is powerful, and he has learned Elven wisdom. His time among the Dúnedain has proved useful, for he will know stealth, and many hidden paths which will aid the secrecy of the mission.” 

“Yes, Aragorn will go.” Elrond paused. “But only,” he held up a finger, “if he is willing.”

“Of course!” Mithrandir asserted amiably. “Indeed, I have no intention of forcing anyone on this mission against their will.”

“Well, that is settled. Now for the Dwarves?”  There was silence as each contemplated this question.

“I feel there is only one choice, among those who came to the Council.” Mithrandir hinted.

“If you are thinking of Gimli, son of Glóin, then I agree with you. He is young, and loyal. His strength and courage will serve a good purpose.”

“Not only that, but Gimli seems to accept new ideas more readily. He is not bound to traditions like some of those other stubborn fools.” Elrond smiled wanly at the insult.

Mithrandir knitted his brows together, and spoke gravely. “Ah, but think not that only the Dwarves are stubborn, O Elrond. I have met some very stubborn Elves in my time…”

Elrond did not rise to the bait. “Good, now this brings us to the choice of Elves. Who shall we send?”

Both paused in deep thought. The answer to this question was not readily available.

“Well, I suppose we could send Glorfindel.” Mithrandir sighed finally.

“Nay, that would serve no purpose but to turn all the creatures of Sauron against us. Glorfindel is too widely known, too celebrated. It would be the same as sending Celeborn, or Galadriel, or me.” Elrond spoke passionately.

“True. And if they travel stealthily, they should not encounter many battles. You clearly know who we will be sending, Elrond, please do let this frail wizard know your superior mind.”

Elrond ignored Mithrandir’s last statement, and spoke slowly. “There is one that comes to mind. The Enemy does not know him, for he is quite young, but mature nonetheless.”

“And whom do you speak of?” Mithrandir asked patiently.

“Legolas Thranduilion.” Mithrandir blinked a few times, digesting this news. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Yes, I see the merit in the choice. Legolas is an excellent choice. You have my approval.” The old wizard nodded a few times, to confirm his support.

“Perhaps, but it is someone else’s approval that worries me.” Elrond commented wryly.

“Thranduil.” Mithrandir interrupted bluntly.

“This will not sit well with him. Hananuir Thranduilion has assured me of his support, and he will be a valuable ally in changing Thranduil’s mind, but I do not like turning a son against his father. We could be sending Legolas to his death, and you know Thranduil would blame us for it.”

“Thranduil cannot prevent something this important from happening, and if the group were to leave from Imladris, shortly after the Council, he would have no time to protest it. A visit to the Greenwood is not on the route.”

“However,” the wizard paused briefly. “You do have a point. Thranduil would blame us, wouldn’t he? Hmm…”

Elrond had a sudden inspiration. “Thranduil couldn’t blame us if Legolas were to go of his own volition.”

“True,” Mithrandir agreed, warming up to the idea. “You would have to word it carefully when asking him, of course.”

“Naturally.” Elrond dismissed the problem with nod. “Therefore, to sum things up, Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, Sam, Frodo, and yourself will go on this quest?”

Mithrandir smiled. “Yes, that totals to seven, which is a small enough number to be stealthy, and a large enough one to ward off any unlikely attack.”

Elrond stood with decisiveness. “Yes, I am well pleased by this arrangement. Send a messenger to each member newly chosen. I will give each one two days to think on it, and by the third we should be decided.”

“Very well, I shall call in Aragorn.” Mithrandir strode from the room, with a short bow, leaving Elrond to his silent musings of the success of this crucial mission.

*

Mithrandir smiled reassuringly at the obviously nervous Legolas.

Legolas smiled back wondering what in Arda Elrond could have to ask him.  Perhaps, the Elven lord wished him to leave? Now that the Council was over, there was no reason to linger in Imladris. Perhaps there was something wrong with Hananuir? Legolas quashed this thought, having visited his brother recently and seeing first hand the progress he had made. His questions were cut short as Mithrandir stopped walking, and gestured for Legolas to enter the room that they stood before.

Legolas nodded gratefully at the old wizard for his guidance, for the young Elf surly would have become lost in the huge maze that was Imladris. The young prince took a deep breath and entered the room to have his curiosity appeased.

He did not see Elrond at first, for the latter was hidden in the deep shadows cast by the setting of the sun. Legolas blinked to adjust his eyes to the darkness and bowed respectfully to the Lord of Imladris. Elrond nodded his head in acknowledgement and gestured for Legolas to be seated.

Legolas sat in a chair that stood before the desk at which Elrond was seated. He waited patiently, and at last decided to break the silence.

“You sent for me, my lord?”

“I did.” Elrond did not continue.

Silence stretched between them. Legolas did not want to seem impatient, so he did not speak. It was Elrond who finally chose to begin the conversation.

“You will recall, Thranduilion, that at the end of the Council, the Hobbit, Frodo, decided to take the Ring to Mordor, and his friend Sam decided to accompany him on that mission.”

Legolas nodded and Elrond continued.

“I cannot send two Hobbits across Middle Earth to end up in Mordor all by themselves. Hobbits are passive by nature, and would be killed a days walk from here. I need to send others with them, who will provide defense, guidance, and company. I have decided that a member of each race will go along with Frodo.”

Elrond paused and looked at Legolas expectantly. Legolas returned his gaze, waiting for Elrond to continue. He did not. Legolas replayed the conversation in his mind, wondering if there was some hidden question he had failed to answer. Suddenly it hit him.

“I have decided that a member of each race will go along with Frodo.” Elrond’s last words flashed in his mind. But that would mean a representative for the Elves. But was he, Legolas, to go? 

Suddenly, he recalled his conversation with Aragorn. He had been right! But still…

“No!” Legolas said quickly. “I cannot go!”

“Why?” Legolas was flabbergasted by the simple question.

“And why not?” asked a little voice in the back of his mind. Why couldn’t he go? He was good with a bow, an excellent warrior. But there were other, better warriors.

“Am I good enough?” thought Legolas. He had been told on many occasions that he was. His teachers, brothers, and even his father had admitted that he was a good warrior. He was able to keep calm in difficult situations. He was somewhat resourceful. But why should Elrond choose him?  Legolas decided to ask the question.

“Lord Elrond, why me?”

Elrond smiled. “You did not answer my question.”

Legolas paused as he groped for a suitable answer. “I did not reflect before asking that question, my lord. I wonder as to your choice in me.”

“Evading my question, Legolas? Still, your perseverance earns you credit. I chose you; well I should say, Mithrandir and I chose you. According the wizard, you are a good warrior, and tried against the Shadow. This mission requires stealth, and above all secrecy. It would not do to send a famous Elven warrior, of which we have plenty, into Mordor. I needed someone unknown to them.” Elrond stopped talking to let Legolas absorb what he was saying.

“You should be honored by Lord Elrond’s choice in you.” The little voice in the back of his mind began again. “Thranduil would be proud at your achievements. You would bring honor to your family and glory to Greenwood.”

But his rational mind countered: “Mordor is so far away, you will probably never return, What difference does your presence make at Orodruin? Only one is needed to cast the Ring into flame. Frodo will be the one to do that.”

Legolas bit the inside of his lower lip pensively. What to do?

“One more thing, Legolas.” Elrond’s abrupt statement jarred Legolas from his thoughts.

“Yes, my lord?”

“You do not have to decide right away.” Legolas mentally sagged with relief. He wasn’t about to lose his composure in front of Lord Elrond.

“You have two days to think about it, but then I need your answer. Oh, and Legolas?”  Legolas raised an eyebrow.

“I am not forcing you into this. I want you to understand that. If you go, it will be your choice, and the consequences and responsibilities are yours to bear.”

“Of course, my lord.” Legolas stood and bowed formally, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one. Elrond nodded to him.

Legolas was almost at the threshold before he turned.

“My lord?” He asked politely.

“Yes?” Elrond wondered what he had left unsaid.

“Thank you.” Legolas stated simply and left.

Elrond stared contemplatively at Legolas’s retreating figure. A smile tugged at his lips as the irony of the situation dawned on him.

“Yes,” he thought, “I shall have to share this one with Mithrandir. There are not many who would thank me for sending them on a quest that could mean their lives.”

Suddenly sobered by the thought, the Lord of Imladris fell into a light trance, perhaps remembering those that did lose their lives, and could never be thanked.

*

Hananuir began a conversation for the third time since Legolas had come to visit him. His little brother was agitated, but was not revealing what was bothering him. Hananuir was becoming concerned.

“Legolas,” he tried a new tactic. “What is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me?” Legolas started. “Why nothing at all, muindor. I am fine.” Legolas looked down at his feet.

Hananuir sighed at his brother. Legolas was the worst liar he had ever met. The entire family had learned the tactics Legolas used when lying to others. Simply, the young Thranduilion could not get away with falsehood. This particular tactic was one of Legolas’ favorites.

“Legolas, stop lying to me.” Suddenly, a thought hit Hananuir like an arrow, something to do with the conversation he had had with Lord Elrond previously.

“Legolas, what did Lord Elrond say to you when Mithrandir came to get you?”

“Well…ah…Hananuir, what am I to do?” Legolas yelled at the ceiling and would have begun pacing if he was not seated. “Lord Elrond wants me, me! To represent Elves in the Quest to Destroy the Ring!”

“What!?” Hananuir sat bold upright, winced at the pain in his back, and sank down on the bed again. His back was better, but sore nonetheless, and sudden movements were not ideal.

“I have time to think on it. I do not know what to do.” Legolas shook his head in frustration.

Hananuir tried to recall exactly what Lord Elrond had said to him. They came to him slowly; “I wish to simply warn you that your brother will be involved in this business, more so, than perhaps you, or your Adar, would permit.”  

Elrond knew that Legolas would be chosen. Elrond had almost told Hananuir as much. How could I have missed the warning? Hananuir cursed his injury, which was apparently dulling his wits. He should have been prepared with a solution.

“Hananuir?” Legolas’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Legolas?”

“Muindor, I do not know what you will think of me, but please do not judge me too harshly.” Hananuir waited.

“I want to go.” Legolas spoke quietly, but his voice was filled with confidence and purpose.

Hananuir nodded. “I thought you might. You truly have an adventuresome spirit, Legolas. I hope it will serve you well.”

Legolas gaped. “You…you approve my choice?”

“First of all, it is not mine to approve. You need neither my permission nor support to go. However, I give both to you. Second of all, there is no reason for me not to approve. You are not rash, to go seeking dangers that you have no chance of besting. You have as good a chance of succeeding as any, Legolas. I must admit,” Hananuir grinned sheepishly. “I admire your courage.”

“You do? But Hananuir, you are so brave, and I…” Hananuir interrupted.

“Muindor, I would not have the courage to accept this responsibility. Do not be humble to seek praise, although by the look on your face the idea has never entered your mind.” Legolas looked genuinely abashed.

Hananuir’s light voice turned serious. “Legolas, go. Help Frodo to destroy the Ring, give him whatever aid is in your power. If you succeed…” Hananuir stopped as the sheer magnitude of the task amazed him. “If you succeed, your name shall be revered among Elves, Men and Dwarves alike.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow mockingly at the unlikely-ness of a Dwarf ever praising an Elf. 

“Legolas, listen to me.” Hananuir’s voice was fervent. “If you succeed, you shall rid Arda of her greatest foe. There will finally be peace. Peace, Legolas! I know you cannot imagine what that is! You were born in the most turbulent time of all. There was peace, I know, I lived in it, for a short time. There can be peace again. You can help it to come.”

“Imagine, Legolas. The trees will be alive again, they will sing out in joy. Our children need not learn to kill before they finish childhood. Our elleth need not be in constant fear of death of their husbands. We do not have to sing laments over the bodies of our fallen comrades and know we will never meet them again. The sun will not rise to darkness, but there will be eternal light. Imagine, Legolas, a child who has never seen an Orc. Never had to battle spiders, or vomit because of their foul stench. Imagine peace.” Hananuir looked into space, seeing a better future. His voice was hushed, almost reverent.

Legolas regarded his brother and saw the hope in his eyes. Legolas himself had never known peace. He had fought ever since he was old enough to use a sling shot. But he could picture what Hananuir spoke of. Legolas knew that his brother hated war, hated fighting.

Could he really help create an era where there was peace? Could Sauron be destroyed?

Legolas remembered the Council, he remembered a little Halfling asking to carry the peril of the world around his neck. He had seen the hope in Frodo’s eyes. Frodo knew peace. Legolas had heard tales of the Shire; Hobbits kept their doors unlocked and their gates unbarred. There were no sentries or patrols. The air did not ring with their laments. The trees were green and healthy, the birds sang. If there was such a land, then it was worth protecting. Hope was a flickering candle, but if one waited until the dawn, the flame would burn ever brighter.

Legolas thought about his immortality, he had all of eternity. Sauron could not wait that long. Legolas would act, now. He would go, and he would fight for a cause that was not yet won, but practically lost.

“Hananuir.” The Elf in question was jarred out of his daydreaming to regard a determined younger brother.

“I am going to go. I will fight for peace. I will protect Frodo on his Quest, and should it cost my life, I will give it.”

“I have never been prouder of anyone, Legolas. Truly, I do not deserve to be your brother.” Hananuir shook his head in shame. 

Legolas got up and embraced his brother firmly, careful not to hurt his wound. “It is I that am undeserving. Thank you, Hananuir. I do this for you, and Adar, and Girithron and Gwiwileth. I do this for Celeguir, although I never knew him. I do this for all Elves that have lived, and those that are still to come. You all deserve peace.”

Hananuir struck his breast with a fist. “Peace go with you, muindor.”

“And let it return to you.” Legolas returned the salute and the traditional reply.

He grinned at his brother. “I must tell Lord Elrond.”

Hananuir nodded and watched his younger brother, the one who carried every Elf’s hope with him, leave the room.

**

“There are two letters, one from me and one from Lord Elrond. Give him Lord Elrond’s first.” Legolas handed two sealed packets to his brother.

Hananuir nodded and handed them to Neldorin, who stood beside him. Brethil and Faelthinor, along with Lord Elrond, and others of his house stood in the Hall of Fire. Glóin and three other Dwarves stood there as well, along with the Hobbits.

Legolas embraced his brother one last time, and saluted to his former companions.

Brethil nodded solemnly. “I wish you luck, my Prince.”

Legolas thanked him and grinned at Faelthinor’s wink and warning to kill every Orc in Arda.

Neldorin smiled sadly. “May the Valar be with you, Legolas, may they always guard your step.”  The aged veteran stepped back, and leaving Hananuir standing alone.

“Legolas, I will turn my eyes east every morning. I will hope for you, and pray to the Valar for your return. Should it not come…” Hananuir shook his head.

Legolas gripped his should. “Should it not come, then promise me you will not weep. Promise me you will only enjoy the peace that I died to bring to you.”

Hananuir nodded. “Legolas I know you will succeed.”

Legolas smiled. “I should, for is not the result of failure success?”

Hananuir grinned. “Namaarie, muindor. I thank the Valar I was blessed to be your brother.”

Legolas’ throat was tight and he could not speak. He gripped Hananuir’s forearm in a warriors greeting, and placed his fist on his heart in a final salute.

Legolas joined the group of those who formed the Fellowship of the Ring.  Aragorn crossed the distance between him and his friend and came to speak to Legolas.

“Legolas, I know you have made this decision to come, but Gimli, the Dwarf, has only promised to go until the Passes of the Mountains.”

Legolas regarded Aragorn steadily. “How should that affect me?”

“Legolas, I do not want you to die on this quest. I know it is not your fate. Please promise me to go only to the Passes.” Aragorn spoke fervently.

Legolas gaped at his friend. “Aragorn, what is this madness? I should retreat because a Dwarf feels that he cannot go until the end? Nay, I will not give up now.”

“Legolas, do this for me. Please! Just consider it! When we get to the Passes, you can change your mind! Just to ease my conscience?” Aragorn was unusually agitated.

Legolas remembered the unusual friendship he had with this Man, and how many times they had saved each other’s lives. He decided he could concede this favor.

“So be it, Aragorn. I will not go all the way to Mordor, if my heart warns against it, when the time comes.” Aragorn looked relieved.

Lord Elrond, who chose that moment to address the company, interrupted his reply.

“The time for farewells is over. If the Company would be so good as to wait at the gate, they shall soon be on their way. Mithrandir and I must have some final words.” Elrond turned to go, but spoke again when everyone in the room tried to leave at the same time.

“It would aid the mission if everyone else would please stay here in the stronghold. Sauron has many spies.” Elrond smiled thinly, and turned on his heel out the doorway.

Gimli, the Dwarf exited first, head held high in the presence of Elves. Five Hobbits left the Hall, for Bilbo would not remain behind. Boromir the Man towered over them, apparently indifferent as to the mode of departure. Aragorn and Legolas brought up the rear.

They came outside to the steps at the gate just as evening fell. Three of the Hobbits had congregated on a laden pony. Frodo stood next to Bilbo, but neither spoke. Gimli made quite a show of checking his weaponry, as did Boromir with his war-horn. Aragorn sat on the step, with his head in his knees. Legolas decided not to speak to him.

Instead the elf stood looking up at the grey sky. The clouds were low, partially obscuring the moon. It was not yet dark enough to see the stars.

Legolas pondered his hurried promise to Aragorn. When the time came, would he indeed turn back?

**

A/N: No, Legolas is not crazy. That is his conscience speaking. I decided to have a little fun with that-let me know if it wasn’t too weird. Thanks and please review!