Welcome, son of Thranduil.

"Who are you?"

Why do not ask what I am?

"What do you want from me?"

Why do you not ask what I can do for you?

"Please, I wish to return to my friends."

You are lucky to have friends. The question is: will they stand beside you as you fight?

Legolas felt an irrational anger rise in him. "Of course they will!"

You are certain of this. Yet, where are they now?

"You told me to come here alone."

A long sigh seemed to vibrate through the rocks and the earth, filling the air with a desolate melancholy.

Do you know anything about being alone? I brought you here for a reason. You already know about the stones, and their power is starting to fuse with yours.

"Is that what you have called me here for? To waste my time with words that impart no new knowledge?"

Why are you so angry?

Slamming his hand against a rock in frustration, Legolas stood to leave.

Yet, something seemed to hold him back, and he paused in his step, anger lessening.

"I do not know why."

Can you walk away from the chance to save those whom you love?

"Are they in danger?"

They will be if you leave now.

"Where are you? Why do you not show yourself?"

At his feet, a sudden flash of fire sprung up from the ground around him.

Having no time to react, Legolas was shocked to find the flames educed no pain as they touched him, wrapped themselves around him, danced through him.

This is who I am.

The flames spun around like dancers in spring, forming the image of a young child.

And this.

It flickered, growing taller, more refined, stronger, more powerful.

"Stop it!"

Stop what, Lass?

"You are not him! Go away!"

But I will never leave you, Lass. I promised to be here for you.

Elrohir closed around Legolas, dancing through him.

"No! Go away!" Legolas cried, his confusion reaching greater heights.

Save me, Lass! I am drowning! Save me!

Legolas reached out to grasp at Elrohir, and was shocked to find that his fingers closed in on something tangible, just when they should have been greeted with thin air and mere flames.

Well done, Thranduilion.

Staring at the crimson stone in his palm, comprehension flooded over Legolas.

This is the stone you require. You have demonstrated your heart; you have laid it bare before me, and I am impressed by what I see. No, do not speak, for my time is limited.

There will be many who pretend to help you, but do not listen to them. Only your heart will tell you what to do. You have the fire, the water, the air, leaving you metal. Once they combine, you have to bring them to the peak of Mount Gazet, where the elements converge and flow into one. The stone will glow, it will burn, sparkle, mesmerise, cry to you, ask for you. Wait, resist the urge to take it, and do not yield to temptation nor hatred. Only when everything has faded can you act.

"What should I do?"

The image of Elrohir produced a fiery long blade and brought it down on his palm, revealing a long, deep cut.

Give me your hand.

Legolas hesitated.

Do you trust me, Lass?

"Only if you are Roh," Legolas said.

He almost cried out in shock as the fiery figure slashed the blade across his palm and pressed both of theirs together. Intense waves swept through Legolas, and he found himself gasping for air.

"Stop, what are you doing?" Legolas said, feeling a part of himself start to drain away through the cut.

He tried to struggle, but found that his hand was caught fast.

"Roh, please!"

Flaming eyes rose to meet his.

So cold, Lass. Let me give you some heat. Let me warm you.

"Stop!" Legolas cried again.

The hold on his hand gave way, leaving behind a stewing landscape of steam and fire.

Scrambling to his feet, Legolas studied his palm and found a large burn ran across where the flaming blade had been brought down.

"Are you still here?"

Well done. The Dyrian has been purged from you. He can no longer find you, and it is now up to you to find him.

"What?"

His question was answered only by the silent bubbling of molten fire.

"Speak to me!"

Minutes passed, and it soon became clear he was alone. For the first time in a very long while, Legolas felt warm, a heat that emanated from the cut on his palm which still glowed red. He thought till his head hurt, but could not make sense of what had just transgressed. What had the creature done, and why had it assumed Elrohir's form?

With a sudden jolt, Legolas realised that he could no longer see the fireflies.

The stone started to burn and hum, and closer examination revealed flashing sparks beneath the smooth surface.

Keeping the stone, Legolas returned to where Elrohir and Esendri were waiting for him anxiously.

"We now have the fire stone," Legolas said before either of them could speak.

Esendri's frown turned into a smile.

"Without much harm coming to you?"

"Surprising?" Legolas said, throwing a glance at Elrohir, who was staring at the ground. "Roh, what is wrong?"

Esendri pointed at a bandage on Elrohir's hand.

"A cut appeared on Elrohir's palm, and it started bleeding. We tried to stem it, but it is unlike anything we have ever seen before."

"What?" Legolas said, careful to keep his own hand out of sight. For some reason, he did not want them to see the glow that was only just starting to fade; at least not until he had turned things over in his mind further.

"I cannot explain it, Lass. A sharp pain exploded across my palm, and there was a long cut across it."

"Can I see it?"

"If you wish."

Undoing the bandages, Legolas saw that a moist redness stained the inner layers of cloth.

Wiping the salve away, Legolas examined the wound, its fat droplets coalescing with anomalous slowness.

"It looks like it is crying. Why, Roh?" Legolas said.

"There are many reasons why I might do so, Lass."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

"Then perhaps we should move on."

Watching Legolas start to pack up, Elrohir said, "Lass, you were never alone."