Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all Tolkien's. Except the turn of this storyline. But it's based on his stuff and the characters are all his.

A/N: For you to-the-letter-nothing-can be-different-from-what-the-master-wrote-type folks, beware. I have taken a few small liberties with this. Minor trifles really. My references to some plot points here come from ROTK and TTT. Don't get lost. Enjoy, and please review.

Chapter Two

The Affliction

All that day, Legolas had insisted they take the rear of the Company, riding with the unleashed specters at their back. He had reasoned that the mortals in their group would be disturbed by the gathering enigma and so offered himself as a buffer between them. Being immortal, Legolas explained, he did not fear ghosts. Gimli was vociferous in pointing out that he, being a dwarf, was indeed mortal, and that he, being seated behind the elf, was actually the buffer to the group, a position he did not appreciate. Legolas scoffed at his friend’s grumbling tones, refraining from pointing out that two others, the elves Elrohir and Elladan, took the trail behind them, and were in fact, Gimli’s buffers. The brother elves did not offer reason for choosing this place in line, and merely smiled at the friendly banter. Gimli was silently grateful for their presence.

"So explain to me, Gimli, what causes a dwarf to have fear for something so lacking in body?" Legolas prodded, seemingly wishing to ease his friend’s tension. " I would think these silly puffs of smoke about us would be familiar to you. Like the wafts that rise from your pipe."

"And yet those that rise from my pipe do not utter murderous threat and come bearing ax or sword or knife," Gimli muttered casting another glance over his shoulder.

"Perhaps not," laughed the elf, "but the airs from your pipe do carry a noxious odor — one that I fear is potent enough to kill off a dozen of my fair folk."

"Then remind me to partake in a quick light of my pipe when next we come to rest."

Their progress had brought them to within a day of the final destination, Pelargir, and the mood of the company had grown introspective as the miles went on. The day seem interminable. Mental strategies were played in all heads and Gimli hoped that before long their leader would call a halt to confer with his captains on the role each man would take. Gimli looked forward to the break, eager to renew himself with food, and to remove himself further from the oppressive gloom. He also silently thought that Legolas could benefit from a break, for though he said nothing, Gimli’s companion was growing ever more tense as they drew on. Yet it seemed to Gimli that an even darker gloom arose from the north. Black clouds billowed in the sky there, and it foretold of Sauron’s might in those lands. Their camp would be short, he knew, for Aragorn was sure to feel it more keenly and would want to make haste.

Legolas stiffened slightly, raising himself higher in his seat. The movement startled the dwarf. "Gimli, do you smell something? I have smelled something for many a mile and I cannot identify it. It is more like taste than smell, I think. It is troublesome to me, and though it was stronger a ways back, I just caught it again on a breeze."

"I smell naught," answered to dwarf, but then his eyes widened, "unless of course you mean the salt."

"Salt?" queried the elf.

"Aye. From the sea. We have ridden near it for many a mile, and we could have seen it had not these hillocks stood between us. But I think now we are riding more inland and we should miss it. From my study of maps, I recall our destination is far from the shore, though it does lie on the Anduin that flows outward. Still, the wind is from the north now, and I will be glad not to breath the sea air again. It tends to make my eyes water," Gimli confessed.

Legolas seemed to relax at that. Speaking quietly to himself, Gimli thought he heard the elf say, "Then perhaps it has passed and I may be spared."

"What say you?" asked Gimli, but Legolas did not speak again. The canter of the horses was the only noticeable sound and they rode like this for several more miles.

****

Legolas breathed a sigh, relaxing now for the first time since leaving the mountain passes. He had been mentally preparing himself for an assault and now, realizing the danger was passing, he felt his tensions wane. He looked now at the landscape around him. The tall grasses and sizable knolls revealed little else but themselves and the sky. Legolas could hear or feel nothing stirring there.

He focused his attention now on the battle ahead, glancing back at Elrohir and Elladan. He looked forward to fighting at their side and had long admired the twins, ever since childhood. Tale of the valiant deeds of the brother elves was legendary among the folk in Mirkwood and Legolas was struck with awe and gratitude at their outward attempts for his friendship. The three princes had bonded quickly, and Legolas made sure to draw Gimli into this circle. But truth be told, Legolas knew there was more to their friendship than just comradery. He knew they perceived his apprehension of the sea and they drew near him as would an older sibling offering counsel. It gave Legolas comfort and was one of the unspoken reasons he had consented to journey this route. ‘I would fear this sea-longing if I were surrounded by only men, he thought, for they would not understand that this is not of my make or control. Elves protect their own and do not perceive this as a weakness, but more as part of our growth. It is painful, yes, perchance even fatal to some, but it is no more an impediment to how we see one another individually than the color of one’s hair. But I need not think on this further.’ He smiled, his relief gathering, and turned his mind now to wonder on the battle scenes they would be upon ere long. No longer paying attention to his surroundings, he was caught off guard when the gull rose up from beyond the dunes.

*****

Gimli had not seen it at first. Shaken from his own thoughts by the slowing gait of the horse, he looked up to see Legolas staring open-mouthed at the gull hovering above and to the right. It was still as a kite, sailing on the breath of the wind. Graceful and motionless it rose, with darting eyes scanning the riders. He was about to comment on the regal animal when Legolas bucked back, drawing his hands to his ears and shaking his head. The gull wailed a teary cry, and Gimli flinched at the most certain pain that came in the elf’s reaction. Legolas sagged forward, gasping for air. Almost immediately, he heard the approach of Elrohir and Elladan galloping forward.

"Legolas!" Gimli cried out, glancing furtively at the other two elves for aid.

Arod snorted in frustration, at a loss for his rider’s sudden lack of direction. Feeling the elf’s sideways turn toward the bird, the horse changed his course to the edge of the path, veering into the tall grass.

"Stop! Stop, you mad beast!" Gimli yelled to the horse.

Elladan dismounted and pulled the horse away, whispering soft words to the confused animal. Looking up at Elrohir, then back at the looming gray mass he said to Elrohir, "We cannot tarry here, brother. It would not be wise to become entangled in that cloud." And then looking up toward Gimli he said, "I would recommend you ride with me for the rest of this course, friend dwarf. For the moment, Legolas cannot assure your safety on his mount."

Gimli would have argued, but also looking back he could see the apparition drawing closer, only a hundred yards off, and it was not a good time to hold debate. In nearly one fluid motion he hopped down from his horse and hoisted himself to the seat of Elladan’s horse. Elladan made quick motion and was mounted before him as Elrohir called to Arod "Noro lim! Noro lim!" All three beasts leaped to a gallop as the gray host drew closer.

Now able to study Legolas’ reactions, Gimli looked to his right. Lost in another world, the elf looked, gazing downward at nothing, his brow lightly furrowed, hunched forward, rocked only by the quickening pace of his horse. Elrohir rode near him, ready to catch him if he swayed back.

Gimli craned his neck to look behind and cried out to Elladan, "They are gaining on us!"

Reacting to Gimli’s panic, Elladan spurred the horse on. Clinging tightly to the prince’s tunic, Gimli closed his eyes, wishing them away.

At a full gallop now, Gimli did his part to encourage the mare on. He was not a horseman, and he had difficulty maintaining his perch. Under normal circumstances, he would have muttered his misgivings to his companion rider and held on tightly for safety. But with his current predicament, he called upon all he knew of horsemanship and applied it, though he still had to cling to the rider before him for balance. Glancing back he looked over his shoulder to see the body of darkening force, looking more and more like mortal forms as the miles grew. Their features were becoming clearer and more hideous as they drew near, and the red glow in their eyes sent shivers up Gimli’s spine.

As they neared the other riders, the ghostly host behind them began to dissipate as if by divine means, dividing to either side and passing to the head of the order. It gave Gimli some peace as he tried to reflect on what had happened to Legolas.

Elrohir and Elladan slowed their paces, bringing the horses to a steady gait before stopping to try to resurrect Legolas. Without dismounting they turned their horses around to fully face their glassy-eyed companion. Putting hands upon hunched shoulders, Elrohir shook Legolas lightly, calling out his name. To no avail. He called again, and this time the fair-haired elf blinked, swaying backward, his head lolling with the motion. Elrohir steadied him and looked deeply into his eyes, trying to gather the others attention. Legolas blinked again, and Gimli now took a turn at calling out his name…

"Legolas…"

The young elf closed his eyes and began to shake his head, as if trying to ward off a bad dream. Opening them again, he struggled to focus and fought off the protective hold of Elrohir, rocking off balance again in the effort. He glanced at the three figures before him with a glazed look, as if he did not recognize them. Gimli felt his chest ache and words left him as he fell into distress for his friend.

Another horseman approached at a full gallop, reigning sideways to a stop as he came near the foursome. ‘Aragorn.’ Gimli felt hope resurrect itself. ‘Surely he can fix this.’ But the dark-haired Ranger only looked on, fixed on the face of the damaged elf. He frowned and his brow creased with concern. He peered intently at the elf, then turned to the elven brothers. "You will attend to him?" he asked.

Elladan nodded as Elrohir called out to Legolas once again. "Legolas!"

Thranduil’s son flinched, cringing as if in pain, and Gimli cried out as if he himself had somehow been harmed. Shaking and with quickened breath, Legolas drew out a soft moan before flailing out fitfully. And then, as if composing himself, he looked upward. His mouth fell open slightly as the look of stupor returned to his face.

Gimli could take no more. He called out, "Aragorn, please! Do something! You must do something!"

Aragorn looked at the dwarf, then back at the elf, moisture filling the rims of his eyes. But he did not move. He looked at Elladan and said, "I have called our march to a halt and we will make quick camp. I expect to unleash our weapons soon. Do what you can here and join us as quickly as time allows. We will be upon Pelargir by sunset."

"No…" Legolas wailed plaintively to no one but his internal demon. Elrohir grasped his shoulders fiercely, blocking out Gimli’s view. Pulling the frail elf into an embrace, Elrohir spoke softly. Gimli did not clearly hear the words but he was nearly certain they were in the elven tongue.

Gimli’s chest felt as if it would explode as his friend, caught in the arms of Elrohir, broke into sobs. He looked again at Aragorn, anger rising in him as he cried out, "Is there nothing you will do for him? Do you not see how he suffers?"

Aragorn paused, the expression on his face so deeply saddened that Gimli gasped at the measure of it. Then the exiled king wheeled his horse around and heeled into its side to spur a hasty retreat.

"Aragorn!" Gimli cried.

Legolas’ brimming eyes peered over Elrohir’s shoulder, catching sight of the rider pulling away. "Aragorn?" he whispered.

Seeming now more aware, Legolas pulled himself upright, gathering strength to compose himself. He looked at the faces of his friends before him, looking last at Gimli with renewed recognition. He smiled and Gimli’s heart leapt with joy.

Legolas looked haggard, as if worn out by the inner battle he had fought. ‘Still fought?’ Gimli wondered. ‘What is this thing that can cause such heartache? It is a mystery to me but I will find a way to help him. I must, for the road is dangerous ahead and he will need a guardian to protect him.’

Looking into the distance to where Aragorn had stood, he pondered their other friend and wondered now of the role he had to Legolas’ troubled soul.

*****

Aragorn could feel the dwarf coming without turning around to look. The earth nearly rumbled at his approach. "Aragorn," Gimli thundered, "you will speak to me!"

The Ranger put the knife he had been sharpening back into its sheath and tucked it into his bag as he turned to face the ire of the solid figure. Gimli’s eyes were fierce with indignation and his nostrils flared as he spouted out his words. "You know what has happened, don’t you? Something occurred out there I would have you tell me! Now! And do not try to deny it! I saw your face! Why do you not try to help him?"

Aragorn raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "What would you have me do Gimli?"

"Cure him!"

"There is no cure for what ails him."

"No cure?!" the dwarf sputtered. "What is his sickness then that there is no cure?"

"You should ask him yourself, friend dwarf."

"Do you think I have not tried?" the dwarf replied. "He will not speak of it. Instead, he curls up like a ball, and says only to leave him be. Nay, you know, Aragorn! Tell me what it is so I may be a friend to him!"

Aragorn pondered the dwarf. "I am sure he will tell you of it when he is ready. But you are correct, you have a right to know. Furthermore, he will need you now, more than ever."

Gimli stepped closer, his mood becoming more sober. "Tell me how I may help him, Aragorn. Is he to die?"

"No," Aragorn said, looking across the camp to Legolas' still figure, "I do not think he will, though the shock of the cuivëar* has been enough to kill some of his people in the past. He is strong and I think he will live."

"Cuivëar? What is the cuivëar?"

"It is the elven word for his affliction. It means ‘sea-longing’. It is what happens to all elves in time." He sighed, wishing more than ever that he could make it go away. "I cannot explain it fully, being not an elf, but it is like being ripped apart by two worlds: the one here in which we live, and the one of the Valinor, where all elves go when they depart Middle Earth."

"I have heard tale of this, yes. But I do not understand. There was no warning: one moment he was fine; the next he was lost, as if in a dream."

"It is like a dream, and as time goes on it will become worse. He will fall more and more into that dream until he has no other choice but to seek sanity on the other side of the sea. I believe it was the gulls that brought it on him. For some it is the sound of the waves, others it is the feel of sand on their fingers. It matters not. It can happen most any time, at most any place. It is unique in this case because Legolas is so young. I would have hoped he could have gone many more years before this came on him."

"The Lady Galadriel warned something of gulls. Do you think she could do something for him?" Gimli asked, grasping for hope.

"No, Gimli, she cannot help him," Aragorn said, putting his hand on the dwarfs shoulder. "The Lady only sent warning to him to stay away. I also warned him but he did not want to heed me."

Gimli drew back, a new thought dawning on him, "So you knew this would happen? You knew this was coming?" And then repulsion filled him, "Aragorn, you asked him to come! I was there as well! You asked that we come of our own free will. But you knew?! You knew! You… you are the instrument of this fate!"

Aragorn felt tremendous guilt in Gimli’s accusation and stepped forward to explain, bending to meet the dwarf's eye level, "Gimli, please, hear me out. When I asked you to come, I did not yet realize Galadriel’s vision. But when I did solve the riddle of her words, I asked Legolas to not ride. I begged him! But he refused to be turned aside. He knew what was coming, but he chose it anyway. I could not turn him back!"

But the dwarf only shook his head in disbelief, eyes accusing Aragorn as he said, "You knew. You could have stopped him. You could have told me and I would have helped you. We could have forcibly held him back. We could have spared him this!"

Aragorn replied almost in whisper, beseechingly, "He would have hated us then, Gimli. Do you not see? We would have lost his friendship then for sure."

The dwarf spit out his next words, "Better that than to live locked in a prison for which there is no escape! You have doomed him!" Then turning abruptly, he stormed away.

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* cuivëar -- I made this word up, but used "The Silmarillion" as my guide. Derived from cuivië, which means ‘awakening’ and ëar, which means ‘sea’.