Legolas gritted his teeth and grimaced as he held his bow at full draw. He concentrated on the small piece of dyed red leather that had been pinned to a distant post to serve as a target. His shoulder ached, a steady, dull heat, and he blinked sweat from his eyes. Inglor walked around him, inspecting his form. Legolas had long since lost track of how long he had been standing there.

"How do you feel?" Inglor asked.

"My shoulder aches," Legolas gasped. "But it is still bearable."

"And your head?"

"If I think about my shoulder. . . I do not mind the headache so much."

"So your head does hurt," Inglor said. "I thought as much. Release."

With a sigh of relief, Legolas let his arrow fly. It hit the target just at the upper edge. He and Inglor walked down the range to examine it.

"You did well," Inglor said. "You held your draw for five minutes, and you placed the arrow on the target as well. Your arms do not shake as much as they did yesterday. I think your strength is returning."

Legolas managed a small, grim smile. In the three weeks since he had been allowed out of bed, he had worked with Inglor to restore his strength and skill with the bow. The sessions always left him exhausted, but he endured them with good grace, for he could feel the torn muscles mending and returning to what they had been. "Should I try once more?" he asked. "Perhaps I will hit closer to the center this time."

Inglor eyed the fading bruise on Legolas's head critically. The swelling had reduced considerably, and he was able to open both eyes, but the place where his head had struck the tree was still tender. "I think not," he said finally. "If your head is starting to ache, we should stop for today. Go and drink a cup of willow tea. You will hit the center of the target tomorrow."

Gilveril set a kettle of water over the fire and measured powdered willow bark into a mug. While she waited for the water to boil, she examined Legolas, probing gently at his healing wounds and testing his vision. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"One," Legolas said.

"Very good. Now, keep your head still and follow my finger with your eyes."

Legolas obeyed, keeping his eyes on Gilveril's finger as she moved it from side to side, then back and forth. She nodded in satisfaction.

"Your vision is not doubled, and you are able to focus and track well, even after the exertion of your session with Inglor. That is good; the damage to your head is healing." The kettle boiled, and Gilveril poured water over the powdered bark, added a spoonful of honey, and gave the mug to Legolas. "Let that steep a little, then drink it. How do you feel, apart from the headache?"

"I am stiff and sore from the training with Inglor," Legolas said. "But that is to be expected after an arrow wound. Sometimes my head hurts, and Inglor always stops the session when that happens."

"As he should. I will not have you injure yourself again through overwork."

Legolas sipped at the tea, which was bitter even with the honey. "Mostly I am frustrated. Sometimes I grow weary and must sleep in the middle of the day. I cannot concentrate on small tasks."

Gilveril looked thoughtful. "I think that will not last much longer," she said. "You are healing well. If you continue to take care of yourself and obey the limitations I have placed upon you, I think that you will be completely well in a few weeks' time."

"It is hard for me to wait. I should be out assisting with the search for Gollum. He escaped while under my care, after all." Legolas took another sip of tea. Gilveril laid a hand on his shoulder.

"My Lord, I do not know exactly what occurred beneath the beech tree that night. However, from what you and Inglor have told me, your patrol made all its choices in good faith, and you fought bravely against an overwhelming foe. That you survived at all is accomplishment enough. You have played your part for now. The search is for others to undertake."

Legolas nodded, blinking furiously in an attempt to stave off a sudden wave of drowsiness that swept over him. "Did you put chamomile in this tea?" he asked, his tone sharper than he had intended.

"I did not," Gilveril said. "You are simply weary, just as you described to me."

"I do not wish to go to bed."

A knock on the door interrupted them. Gilveril moved to open it, and Thranduil entered the infirmary, carrying a small lap desk. "Greetings, Gilveril," he said. "Inglor said that I might find Legolas here."

"I am here, Ada." Legolas drank the rest of the willow tea and rose to greet his father, ashamed of the wobble in his knees. Thranduil crossed the room and put an arm around his shoulders.

"You look like one who is exhausted from hard work," he said cheerfully.

"He needs rest," Gilveril said. Legolas scowled.

"I do not want to rest. I want to breathe the open air."

Thranduil laughed. "You may do both. The day is warm and pleasant, and I see no reason why you may not take your rest outside in the garden. Come. I must attend to some official correspondence, and I had thought to do that outdoors. I will spread a blanket for you, and you may rest there while I write my letters."

"I would like that," Legolas said, mollified. He turned to Gilveril. "I was rude to you. I apologize."

"I am not offended. Healing from wounds such as yours is a trying experience, and you have been remarkably calm about it. Now, go outside. The King is correct; it is a lovely day."

Thranduil and Legolas walked outside to the garden, stopping at the stables to collect a clean, soft blanket, which Thranduil spread on the ground. He sat cross-legged on one corner, and Legolas lay down beside him. His headache was fading, and he felt overwhelmingly drowsy.

"I am sorry that I sleep so much," he murmured. Thranduil reached out and stroked his hair.

"Do not be ashamed, Legolas. You are still healing, and that takes time. I do not think you appreciate just how badly you were hurt. You may sleep as much as you want, provided that you wake each time."

"I will wake, Ada." Warmed by the sunshine and lulled by the gentle scratching of his father's quill on paper, Legolas allowed himself to slip into dreams.

Legolas continued to heal swiftly as the summer progressed. His muscles grew strong, and he was able to wield a bow and a sword once more. The headaches faded away and with them went the overpowering need for sleep. His concentration improved, and he could attend Thranduil's council meetings again. Menellir declared him eligible for guard duty, and he was soon taking his rightful turns in the patrols that kept the settlement and its surrounding territory safe.

Menellir seemed relieved that Legolas was recovering, for the Shadow had been growing steadily since the night of the Orc attack. The spiders had become bolder, and it required ever more warriors to keep the Forest Road and the Elf Path safe. The Elves began to encounter Orc patrols in the south, and trade became ever more difficult.

Thranduil contemplated the supply of food preserved for the winter. It was not enough to see the community through, and imports from Lake Town and from the south were becoming scarcer. He gave orders that the children of the settlement were to help with foraging as often as they could be spared, and he led hunting parties more frequently. There was still game in the woods, and Thranduil ensured that as much of the meat as possible was smoked, salted, or pickled.

The hunt for Gollum was not as satisfactory. Every few days, a party of scouts would return to the delvings and report on what they had found. Slowly, the Elves traced Gollum's path south, though they did not know if he had gone that way willingly. As the trail led deeper into the Shadow, the scouts moved more slowly. Sometimes the scouting parties would return with mysterious injuries whose origins they could not quite remember. Finally, one scout leader, Neldorín, returned with his entire party overcome by a strange illness that left them chilled and shaking even as they burned with fever. Some could no longer hold themselves upright and had been strapped across the backs of their horses.

The healers cared for the scouts as best they could and found that warmth, light, and the scent of mint tea swiftly drove their chills away. Thranduil immediately recalled all of the scouting parties and sent no more out. When Neldorín had recovered, Thranduil summoned him before his council to present his report.

"We traced Gollum farther than we have yet managed, my Lord," Neldorín said. "We came upon a land where the fir trees grew thick and twisted together, rotting for lack of sunlight. The Shadow lies heavy upon that land, and the air is thick and sour. There is little left alive in that wood, so the tracks grew more pronounced. At last, we came to the edge of a clearing. Through the trees, we could see an enormous dark hill, and a tower stood upon the hill. A foul miasma surrounds it, and it choked us so that we could not breathe. I ordered my party to return home, but we had not traveled a day before the first weakness struck us. The cold darkness grew stronger, until we were barely able to reach the settlement. I believe that Gollum went that way, but I will take no more warriors there, my Lord."

"Of course you will not," Thranduil said. "You have served bravely, Neldorín, and I will not risk any more of my people. I am ending the search today. He has given us enough trouble."

"You were drawing near to Dol Guldur," Luindil said. "That has ever been an evil place."

"Mithrandir and his Dúnadan companion thought that it was inhabited once more," Legolas offered. "It would appear that they were correct. This is evil news indeed."

Neldorín nodded. "If Gollum did go to Dol Guldur, I cannot imagine that he is still alive."

"It will disappoint Mithrandir," Galion said, "But I cannot say that I am sorry to be rid of the creature. He has caused us nothing but grief since the day he arrived."

"It will indeed disappoint Mithrandir," Thranduil agreed. "I see no way around that. We must find some way to inform him of this development." This problem had been bothering him since he had first ordered the search. Mithrandir was a wanderer who appeared in Mirkwood infrequently. There was no way to know where he would be at any given time; it would be difficult for a message to reach him swiftly.

"Perhaps we could send a messenger to a meeting place," Galion suggested. "Even if Mithrandir is not there, the message could be left for him."

Menellir scowled. "He could be anywhere. We do not know that he will visit the place we choose. We ought to send out a dozen messengers, and we cannot spare that many warm bodies."

"Then let us send word to one place, but choose that place with the utmost care," Thranduil said.

Luindil thought for a little while. "I suggest Imladris, my Lord," he said at last. "Whenever we see Mithrandir, he always brings news from the House of Elrond. I would guess that he visits there frequently."

"It is a good thought," Thranduil said. "Even if Mithrandir is not there, it is possible that Elrond may know where he is. I will send a messenger to Imladris, then."

Legolas rose and moved to kneel before Thranduil. "My Lord," he said. "I beg leave to be the one to carry the message."

Thranduil frowned. "Tell me why it is that you feel the need to go so strongly."

Legolas took a deep breath, but his gaze never wavered. "Mithrandir asked us to guard Gollum and keep him safe. We have failed in our trust. I am . . . I am the last surviving member of the patrol which failed to keep him safe. I will bear the consequences of that failure."

There was silence in the council chamber. Finally, Thranduil sighed. "There is indeed merit to your words, Legolas," he said. "Though the blame in this matter cannot rest entirely on you. We may all take a share. Menellir permitted him to walk in the forest, after all, and I agreed to keep Gollum to begin with."

"For that matter, Mithrandir himself should not escape blame," Luindil put in. "He told us very little about the creature. He certainly failed to mention that the wretch was important enough to the Enemy that he would send out his Orcs to attack us."

"Indeed," Thranduil said. "Had I known that, I would never have accepted Gollum at all. If you bear blame in this matter, Legolas, so do we all. But I think that you should be the one to go. If nothing else, you are my son, and you may best represent the House of Oropher to our fellow Lord."

Legolas bowed his head. "I will carry your message, my Lord."

Menellir shifted in his chair. "Legolas should not go alone. The paths through the forest have become too dangerous. I will assign a warrior to accompany him."

"Let me go," Neldorín offered. "I led my patrol nearly to its doom, and Gollum is now lost to us forever. I will not refuse my share of the blame."

Thranduil's expression became grim. "I am beginning to regret that I ever mentioned blame today," he said.

"You may go, Neldorín," Menellir said. "Both of you should see the healers before you leave. I wish to be sure that you are fit to travel. If either of you is not, there will be no discussion. A replacement will be found. Do you understand?"

Legolas and Neldorín both nodded. Thranduil rose to his feet, and the council followed suit. "It seems that our path has been set," he said. "The messengers will depart three days from today. You are dismissed."

The Elves in the chamber bowed to their King and left.

Gilveril pronounced both Legolas and Neldorín healthy, and they began to prepare for their journey. Luindil showed them maps and explained the route that they would follow. "You will travel westward through the forest. Use the Elf Path; it is the safer of the two roads. When you reach the edge of the wood, continue traveling west until you come to the River Greylin. This part of your journey will take you over an open plain. Cross it in the night, when you are less likely to be seen by unfriendly eyes. Follow the Greylin south until you come to the Old Ford. Due west of the Ford lies the High Pass through the Misty Mountains, and beyond that is Imladris. It is a dangerous journey, so you must keep your wits about you at all times. We will provide waybread, but there will not be much. Gather what food you can while you are still in the forest, and eat sparingly."

The night before he was to leave, Legolas was in his chambers filling his pack. There was a knock on the door, and Thranduil came in. He looked sadly at the weapons, clothes and supplies spread out on the bed.

"You should pack something warm to wear, Legolas," he said. "The summer already draws to a close, and I fear that it will be much colder by the time you return home from your errand."

Legolas folded a woolen tunic and placed it in the bottom of his pack. Thranduil picked up a fine linen shirt. "You will want this as well. You are going on official business to an Elf Lord, after all, and you should look the part."

"I suppose you are right." Legolas added the shirt to his supplies. In silence, he wrapped flint and a box of tinder in a handkerchief and packed them along with carefully wrapped cakes of waybread. His shoulders quivered, and Thranduil gently turned him around. Legolas's eyes glittered, and his expression was one of utter misery.

"Do not punish yourself like this," Thranduil said. "You have done nothing wrong."

"I have not done enough," Legolas said. "I should have assisted in the search for Gollum."

"You know full well that you were in no condition to do that, Legolas."

"I helped to lose him. I should have helped to search for him."

Thranduil ran his hand lightly over the fading scar on Legolas's head. "You did help with the search. You survived the attack and you were able to tell us what had happened. That was valuable information which only you could have provided."

"I survived." Legolas's voice shook. "I was in the tree and I survived. They all died, my comrades are dead, and I am the only one still alive. I did not do enough. I did not shoot enough of the Orcs. I did not --"

"Hush, mouse. Enough of such talk." Thranduil drew Legolas into a firm embrace. "You did all that you could do. Your quiver was empty when we found you, and your arrows brought down many Orcs. You fought bravely, and you survived. That is the best I could ever ask of you. You have no cause for shame." He held his son close for a while, and not for the first time in his life, he wished that a father could absorb all of a child's unhappiness and leave the child free.

At last, Legolas stopped shaking, but he made no move to break the embrace. That suited Thranduil's mood, and he stood for a while simply enjoying having his son close. It would be the last time for months, he thought, and the moment was worth savoring.

"I will have a chance to see Imladris," Legolas said. "I am looking forward to that."

"I am sure that you are. You will have to tell me all about Elrond's land and what it is like there."

Legolas smiled. "Aragorn said that it was a rich, beautiful country. Have you ever been there?"

"Once," Thranduil said. "It was a very long time ago, and I have forgotten much about the place. I do remember that the valley was beautiful and very peaceful. It seems fitting that such a great healer would live in a place like that."

"I hope that there are apples there," Legolas said, and Thranduil laughed out loud.

"Apple trees flourish in that kind of valley, mouse," he said. "Likely there will be enough apples to satisfy even your appetite for them." Legolas smiled at the thought and straightened.

"I should finish packing. It will be a long journey before I reach the land of apples."

"Yes," Thranduil said. "It will be long, and dangerous as well. You should not begin such a journey shadowed with guilt. Go with your King's blessing and your father's love upon you, and come home again as soon as you are able."

Legolas nodded. Thranduil kissed his forehead and left him to finish packing for his journey.