Legolas bent down and lifted up yet another barrel of river water and hoisted it up onto the awaiting dray.   His long, blond hair was tied back and his braids tucked neatly behind his ears.  A hastily fashioned headband covered his forehead and came down over the tips of his pointed ears to keep stray wisps of hair out of his face.  His tunic and leggings were dirty and stained with soot and he was covered with a thin layer of black ash, the remnants of the forest fires.  As he secured the last of the barrels onto the wagon, he waved at the man from Lake Town who was riding upon the seat boards and the heavy conveyance moved off toward the front line of the fire fighters.

          It was back breaking work and the Wood Elf was beginning to grow weary, but he continued to roll another drum forward to await the oncoming wagon as it pulled to a stop beside the river banks.  They had been battling the fires for days with no real sign of progress and now only the strongest Woodland Elves remained behind to help fight the flames; their former homes in ruins, the rest had fled to Lasgalen.  So much of the lush green forest was now destroyed.  The total destruction of the wooded glens and verdant homes of the Elves was devastating and his heart ached at the senseless death of the trees and the ravaging of the earth.

          His thoughts were elsewhere as he reached down to clasp another barrel rim when two strong hands grabbed onto the opposite side and helped to lift the water container onto the flatbed.  Legolas looked up in surprise to see a face he had not seen in over a year.

          “Aragorn!” the Elf smiled warmly.  “What are you doing here?”

          “Helping you lift this barrel, I should think,” Strider grinned as together they slid the wooden cask onto the waiting wagon.

Legolas motioned to one of the Wood Elves loading vats onto another cart and when he approached said, “Keep them busy, Isorfir.  I’ll only be a moment.”

          The equally dirty and exhausted Elf nodded and took Legolas’ place in the line of workers.  The prince then turned to the ranger and clasped his shoulders in a warm embrace, a wide smile forming on his face.  Strider returned the gesture and the two friends silently stared at one another, speaking yet saying no words.  Legolas finally released Aragorn’s arms and motioned Strider to follow him to a small pavilion that had been erected close to the river banks.

          The congested tent area was primarily for the benefit of the healers and their numerous injured and burned patients, but it also served as a rest area for the fire workers.  As they entered, Legolas pulled the ragged headband from off his forehead and moved toward a large water trough.  There he generously splashed water over his face and neck, washing away the soot and ash.  Aragorn handed him a dry cloth to wipe his face and hands and then they both accepted refreshing goblets of cooled water from one of the attending Elf maidens.

          The prince indicated a small space away from the heavier foot traffic and the two friends moved to the corner nook.  Aragorn looked out at the work being conducted by the river and the numerous wagons, carts and sledges being used to haul water to the fires.  He had passed numerous relief stations such as this all along the river on his search for Legolas and he finally turned to the Elven warrior with saddened eyes.  “How bad is it?” he asked.

          Legolas rubbed at his gritty, smoke irritated eyes.  “Very bad,” he sighed.  “We cannot get the fire under control.”  He looked out over the horizon with dismay.  “If the beast attacks us again, I fear all will be lost.”

          “I have come to help in any way I can.  My father is searching the ancient texts for a way to defeat the monster.”  Aragorn looked again at the destruction around him.  “I only hope it’s not too late.”

          “We can certainly use every able-bodied person willing to lend a hand,” said Legolas.  His gaze lingered on the young ranger for a time, and Strider thought the Elf appeared much more serious and careworn than he could remember, but then gradually the Elf smiled.  “I really am glad to see you Strider.  I have missed you greatly.”

          “And I, you, mellon nin,” Aragorn replied warmly, but then his own expression changed and he gazed off toward the mountains.  “But I’m afraid we have more problems to deal with than this dragon alone.”  He turned back to Legolas.  “Orcs have re-taken Gundabad.  They’re taking human slaves.”

          “Ai!” Legolas hissed.  “For what purpose?”

          “I don’t know,” Strider admitted.  “I was scouting the region for the Rangers trying to find out what they were up to when the dragon appeared.”  He set his empty goblet down beside his friend’s on one of the small tables set up along the sides of the pavilion.  “I had to warn the villagers and settlers in the area around the Shire about the danger from the dragon, so I didn’t go on to Gundabad.  I felt it would be better if I went back to Rivendell to see if my father might have a solution to this dilemma.”

          “And does he?” asked the Elf prince.

          Aragorn shook his head sadly.  “No.”

          The two warriors were interrupted from their conversation by the deep resounding tones of Elven signal horns.  Legolas’ eyes held fear and excitement as he hastily moved to the tent’s exit.  Strider was not far behind him.

          “What is it?” asked the ranger as he jogged alongside the Elf toward a row of smaller tents that had been set up as a type of barracks camp.

          “The dragon,” Legolas replied.  “Get your horse.  I’ll meet you beside the river.”  The ranger nodded and turned toward the row of tethered animals on the other side of the main camp area where he had left his mount.

          Legolas halted before a tent that looked no different than the others and quickly entered.  He went straight for his bow and arrows and slung the leather quiver over his shoulder, deftly fastening the straps across his chest as he turned back toward the entryway.  He yanked out the leather thong tied behind his head and shook out his long golden hair and then quickly slipped out from behind the tent flap.  Once outside, he whistled shrilly and a few minutes later, Astalder, his grey Elven horse cantered into view.  As Astalder strode by, he grasped the animal’s mane and lightly swung up onto the horse’s back.  Once the Elf was firmly seated, the steed increased his speed and ran toward the other warriors who were assembling along the riverside.

          “Sen athrad!”* he called to his patrol, signaling them forward and they fell in behind him riding hard to the north.

          Aragorn spotted his friend and turned his horse to join the Elven troops as they sped by.  He raced up alongside his friend and together they charged through the burnt remnants of the forests heading for the grey mountains of Ered Mithrin.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

          The dragon soared over the scorched plains between the grey mountains and the blackened and burning forests of northern Mirkwood.  The demon Udûn had ordered the entire Elven realm destroyed and she would comply, for if she did not her young would suffer.  The forests were of no interest to her and she had no thought for the creatures that lived there.  All that mattered was the safety of her hatchlings and the survival of her kind.

          As her gaze swept the desolate land below she could see many of the two-legged beings and many four-legged creatures coming toward her.  They were insignificant and would not hinder her as she swept over the remaining woods.  She would cover them all in flames and wing her way ever southward until the entire forest was in ruin.  She banked easily and prepared for a diving plummet toward the smoldering trees at the edge of the fire line.  She drew oxygenated air deeply into her lungs and prepared to exhale great sheets of fire and noxious fumes upon the helpless earth.

          It was then that she spied the strange rolling contraption emerging from the burned forest roadway.  It was being pulled by several bulky animals and many of the taller beings were running alongside the huge wooden structure.  Naurnyar’s keen eyes scanned the scene below and sensing danger, she quickly rose upward into the skies, aborting her run and winged away from this strange, new sight.  

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

          Aragorn surveyed the pitiful army that stood upon the plains waiting to do battle with the terror from the sky.  About one hundred mounted Grey Elves with Sindarin bows were seated upon their steeds preparing for the first attack as the dragon flew overhead.  Fifty to sixty Wood Elves were intermingled with the men of Lake Town, some armed with long bows and arrows, some with spears.  How any of them thought they could stop this dragon, was beyond all reason.  He carried his own short bow loosely at his side, an arrow ready in his hand, but he held no hope that it would ever reach its target.

          He surveyed the landscape surrounding them and did not like what he saw.  As he glanced over at Legolas, he shook his head.   “We have no cover out here on the open plains.  We must try to reach the foothills of the mountains before the dragon can cover us in flames.”

          Legolas nodded his head to the side, indicating the progressing engine now coming into view through the ruins of the forest.  The structure was mounted upon a huge dray and was being drawn by several pairs of oxen.  “The men of Lake Town have constructed a giant crossbow.  We will lure the beast down and they will shoot it from the sky.”

          Aragorn eyed the wooden mechanism with some skepticism.  “They won’t be able to maneuver that monstrosity around.  Unless they have a clear shot, they will miss the beast entirely.”

          “Then we must bring the beast to the crossbow.  It is all we have,” Legolas stated as he spurred his horse to the head of the mounted company of Grey Elven warriors.

          Strider kicked his horse forward and followed the Mirkwood prince to the forefront of the lines.  Once again beside his friend, he scanned the skies above, searching for the beast.

          “There,” Legolas pointed.

          Aragorn looked toward the mountain peaks and saw the huge black mass winging swiftly toward them.  He nodded and waited for the Wood Elf to give the command to his troops to move out.  And then they were in motion, riding forward to meet the flying behemoth.  Strider could feel his stomach clinch with fear as he galloped wildly along beside Legolas and the Elven warriors charged on behind them.  He was about to shout that they were much to close, when Legolas wheeled his horse to the side and the entire company turned as one with him.  It was all he could do to keep up with the Elves as they swung wide and headed back toward the burned forests and the men of Lake Town.

          Overhead the dragon spread its wings wide and glided toward the earth, talons hooked and her neck arched and ready to expel the flames that were roiling within her lungs.  She was quickly closing on the moving mass of creatures beneath her and was opening her jaws wide to breathe out the flames of death, when the company parted half to the left and half to the right and she was left facing the unknown construction that had baffled her earlier.  Too late she realized she was in danger but before she could abandon her dive, the mechanism was sprung and a long, deadly shaft came hurtling through the sky toward her.

          The winged beast vaulted her wings and began beating backward to halt her forward motion and at the same time, she banked her glide so that she was no longer diving toward the machine head on, but it was not enough.  The bolt from the giant crossbow slammed into her hide along the left flank, just behind her wing and embedded itself in her flesh.  A thunderous maddened roar emerged from her and belching gouts of flame flooded from her mouth as the pain of the arrow wound ran through her body.

          The humans dove from the mounted crossbow moments before the dragon’s breath struck the weapon and it went up in flames; the panicked bellowing of the oxen mixed with the crackling of the fires and the screams of the men.  Aragorn pulled up on his horse’s reins and watched in horror as the huge crossbow erupted in a pillar of flame, sparks, and smoke and then collapsed in upon itself and tumbled to the ground.  He could see men frantically running from the fires, some with clothes aflame.  He looked up at the fire beast and could see that it was injured, but apparently not enough to keep it from spewing out more fiery destruction.

          The mounted Elves began to shoot volley after volley of arrows at the dragon, but the majority of their shots either bounced uselessly off the beast’s thick hide or never reached their target at all.  Even Legolas’ bow could not find a clear shot or a killing blow and then the dragon lifted into the air and winged away back toward the Ered Mithrin.

          The ranger watched in stunned disbelief as Legolas turned his horse after the dragon and began chasing it across the plains.  Without thinking, he slapped his steed as well and charged after his friend.  Whatever the crazy Elf had in mind, he was not going to let him risk his life alone.  Together they pursued the dragon as it flew ever nearer to the grey mountains until it finally dived into the midst of the peaks and disappeared from sight.

          Strider rode with Legolas to the base of the mountain chain where the Elf finally stopped and jumped from his horse, running toward the stones and up the rocks of the foothills, starting to climb up the side of the steep cliff.

          “Legolas!  Where are you going?” shouted Aragorn as he pulled his horse to a jerky halt a few moments later and leapt from the saddle.

          The Elf turned to look down upon his friend.  “The beast is wounded.  I am going to see it killed.”

          Aragorn started to clumsily scramble up the rocks after his friend.  “Not alone, you’re not.”

          Legolas frowned and was about to protest and tell the ranger to go back to the safety of the river, but then decided that no matter what he told him, Strider would stubbornly follow along behind him.  Resigned to the risk he was now taking and placing his friend in as well, he nodded.  “Very well, but quickly.  I do not want to lose sight of the place it went down.”

          Without further word, the Elf began to nimbly leap from rock to crag as he easily made his way up the cliff side.  Aragorn followed as quickly as he was able, but he could not match the Elf’s agility and started to lag farther and farther behind.  By the end of an hour’s time, the light was failing and he had completely lost sight of Legolas altogether.  When he finally reached the top of the escarpment, he saw the Elf standing upon the rim of a deep crevice and looking down into its depths.

          “Can you see it?” he called out as he trotted toward the edge of the rock, winded and out of breath and clasping at a hitch in his side.

          “Stay back, Aragorn!” Legolas ordered, holding his hand up in a gesture indicating that he did not want the ranger to come forward any further.  “The ledge is not stable.”

          Strider halted in his tracks and anxiously watched as the Elf leaned ever farther out and looked down over the opening.  As the young ranger peevishly stood at a safe distance from the edge, the Elf moved forward onto the shelf, and then suddenly the stones began to slide.  Legolas rocked back and forth trying desperately to retain his balance but his feet kept slipping under the loosened rock and he tipped farther and farther out toward the opening of the fissure.

          “Legolas!  Get back!” Strider shouted, taking a tentative step forward and then stopping abruptly as the entire ridge that the Elf was standing upon broke away from the side of the cliff and tumbled down into the abyss.

          The look of shock upon the Elf’s face as he disappeared from view was burned into the memory of the young human as he half ran, half fell forward in a attempt to grab for his friend’s flailing arms.  And then he was gone.  Aragorn fell onto his knees and then lay flat upon his stomach and leaned over the crumbling ledge as far as he dared, looking down into the blackness.

          “Legolas!” he screamed as the horrible realization that his much-loved friend was lost to him forever took hold of his mind and wrenched the very life out of his soul.

*This way!