A vision lured nearby, like an incessant pounding on the shores, it would not submit.

Mortality would be her undoing; one did not need to look to the stars to foresee this. Now, there seemed to be something more to it, something closer than what she could place. What she could tell, what she could know, there was no hint of what was to come, but Arwen could only live her life and wait for it to present itself. There was no other choice, no other course that could be followed. As the river flowed into the sea, she would ride the waves of destiny to wherever it might lead her.

Violence had begun in Gondor, but it was not limited to the borders of the lands of men. The Dark Lord may have been defeated, but, to the despair of all, his armies and those of the wizard Saruman did not extinguish with their masters. They remained, and they continued to spread darkness.

The Queen of Gondor sat in her gardens, admiring their beauty. Roses bloomed in the unusual autumn heat. If it weren't for the colors on the trees, one would guess it was summer.

"You sit alone thinking of something."

"Yes, I think of what the future holds. This cannot be called Middle Earth for much longer, the tides of change, which take my people away, tell of this. What shall it be?" It was not worry in her face, but honest questioning that shone in her beautiful eyes. As she rose, the flowing white gown she wore caught in the gentle breeze, a striking contrast to her dark, raven hair.

"I know not, Arwen, only that we shall remain together and face it together. You speak of serious thoughts, beloved. I hope that these are not the only things upon which you dwell." Aragorn raised a strong hand to touch her lovely skin. Losing her immortality did not give any affect to her beauty, for she would always be elven.

Arwen rose from the stony bench where she sat. "It is not, Aragorn. Not when so much beauty remains around us. The darkness can not take over, not as long as the sun rises at the beginning of every new day." Her husband gave a slight smile and none of the evils he had seen seemed to alter his looks at this moment. Being together gave him a peace he could not be without lest the terrors of his past consume him.

They remained together in the garden until the sun set that evening and the winds changed direction, heralding the end of the warmth and the beginning of cooler days.

---

Cooler days there were, and the cold of winter set in with a vengeance, bringing with it extraordinary winds of a cold that would seep straight into one's bones. In was in this winter that a terrible sickness began, a new sickness never before seen in the realm of man, dwarf or elf.

Aragorn distressed over this, for the lands that he rules needed not a disease to further desecrate a population already brought down by sword and arrow.

"The doctors have been able to do nothing, my King." The captain of the guard stood before the king, awaiting an answer of what to do.

"Please separate those who are ill from those who are healthy. It is obvious this new evil spreads on the winds, please see to this, Captain."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Once more, Aragorn stood alone. In this time, he wished he were back on the trails of the world. Sitting around a campfire with nothing but his horse and the stars to give him company. Free and unbound, but yet, that life missing something. His hands rising to the jewel on his throat, he knew what that former life lacked. His beautiful Evenstar, with her face, her patience and her love, she was what brought him comfort in a reign he never wished to possess.

Wandering in the halls of the palace, he knew where to find his wife. She sat in her favorite wintertime place.

Aragorn smiled from the doorway, "Here you sit, trying to gather as much of the weak winter sun as possible."

The room was expansive, with giant windows that brought in the winter sun and seemed to give some warmth. Pillars of marble added a majestic feel to this, his wife's winter greenhouse.

Turning to face him, she held a plant with wide leaves in her arms, "Just because the winter winds blow doesn't mean that all beautiful things need perish. Some of the more hardy plants may survive if property looked after." A short cough ended her lesson.

"Are you alright, Arwen?"

"It is nothing, just a tickle in my throat." A smile ended the topic. A blowing of the horn at the gate to the city signaled the needing of Aragorn and the ending of the encounter.

Looking out over the great fields of man, all one could see was the pure white of the winter snows. Aragorn waiting to see the figure the scouts reported emerging from the woods. The dark figure of a winter bird pierced the blinding colorless landscape.

It was many moments before he could hear the sounds of the horse bearing a rider towards him and still, he could see nothing. Finally, a form began to take shape in the fields, just coming over the horizon. The fact that the one approaching was white himself did not improve one's ability to spot him.

"Gandalf!" Aragorn ran from the gates, to the surprise of the guards standing there unsure if they should follow their king.

Shadowfax and Gandalf together only added more white to the terrible winter winds, and Aragorn would have thought him a vision if he did not touch the great steed upon reaching his great friend.

"Yes, Aragorn King, it is I. I thought I should drop by and see how Gondor is faring in these times of uncertainty." Gandalf's warm smile could always be welcomed, even in the darkest times of the greatest despair. Memories of that smile even when all had seemed lost stayed in the Kings mind.

Leading Gandalf towards the gates Aragorn spoke, "We fair as well as can be expected. The great evil of this land may have been defeated, but there is more brewing and I do not think enemies of old has brought this upon us."

Dismounting, Gandalf turned grim, "I had hoped not to hear such news, Aragorn. For Rohan is also reporting that a new foe is appearing in the form of a disease that has no cure and gives a lengthy and terrible end to those infected."

The pair stood in the courtyard silently. The great walls of the palace protected them from the worst of the winds, but the snow always seemed to find a way around any obstacle it may encounter.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Aragorn remembered his manners, "Come, let us find somewhere warm and have some tea. I'm sure you have been traveling a fair distance and are cold through the bone." Gandalf followed the King after assuring that Shadowfax would be well taken care of.

---

The tea was hot in the Wizard's hands and brought even more warmth to him from the inside, but even the cheer of a hot drink was wasted on the tidings given.

"I have been throughout the lands, touring their states. Things are in a foul disrepair, Aragorn. Rivendell and Lothlorien are all but abandoned, the only true remaining grouping of elves is in Mirkwood. However, the realm of Thranduil are under constant attack from the foes leftover from the evil that once inhabited the land. Thinking the elves weak due to their diminished numbers, they attack at all times, day in and day out."

Aragorn thought of his friend, "What news of Legolas? How does he fair?"

"He is well, Aragorn. As well as can be expected for the only heir to a ravaged land. I did not see him while I saw there, for he was commanding a scouting party on their southern border. I'm sure he would extend greetings to you, Aragorn, for you are quite dear to him."

"And he to me, Gandalf, but I fear that the need grows stronger for him and those few left in that last kingdom of the elves to depart for the Havens."

Gandalf thought on those words, "That choice is always before them, they will leave when they must, no sooner."

The line of questioning was broken when Arwen stepped into the magnificent sitting room the two were in. The beautiful tapestries hung in shades of deep blue and burgundy and they added a sense of warmth increased by the tall fire in the beautiful fireplace.

"Greetings to you, Gandalf the White. It is indeed a joyful day when you grace out kingdom, though such an unexpected visit." Her grace remained with her as she crossed the tile floor to see the Wizard closer.

Gandalf rose, as did Aragorn. The old Wizard smiled at his friend of so many centuries, "Arwen, the Evenstar of your people you now and always will remain."

"You wear so many robes, my love." Arwen had three heavy robes on in addition to her regular gowns, which were always beautifully flowing around her form.

She peered at her husband, "It is true, but it was been extraordinarily cold in this wintertime, don't you think?"

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, "Not so much in the castle here that you should require all of that."

Having listened to the conversation for a moment, Gandalf chimed in, "Come here, Arwen." Hesitating, she approached him and stood. He raised one hand and touched her face, looked into her eyes for a moment, then lowered his hand once more.

"You have a fever, Arwen."

Aragorn paced up and down the long hallway outside of his and Arwen's bedchambers. The fair maiden knew he would be upset and did not wish him near her while Gandalf sat with her to look over her condition.

Just when the King thought he could see a trail from all the walking, the White Wizard emerged from the room. Waiting with baited breath, Aragorn heard the small sigh escape his friend's mouth.

"I'm afraid it is the disease, Aragorn, though in its very early stages." Gandalf could barely make eye contact with his friend, for fear of seeing the despair that would naturally grow there.

Aragorn let the news sink in, "Is she in pain?"

"Nay, not too much. I have given her some herbs and tea in order to relax her for sleep in her best ally."

Another word was not spoken as Aragorn made to enter their room, but was stopped by Gandalf.

"No, Aragorn. If you sit with her, you would not be able to comfort her in her slumber and more than likely you too would succumb to its evil." Even though he wished more than anything to sit by his wife, he would be of no use to Gondor if he were to be infected. If the worse case were to happen, they had also conceived no heirs as of yet to rule the kingdom if he were to die.

---

Slowly, they made their way to the King's study. The room was magnificent with multiple bookshelves filled with both human and elven lore of old. Couches are chairs were all around, perfect for reading with their padded arms and lovely texture. Collapsing into one of them, Aragorn felt the desperation of his situation sink in.

"There must be something we can do, Gandalf." Aragorn could barely find the strength to raise his eyes to make contact with his friend. Pacing around the room, the Wizard tried to think of something to say to bring comfort to his friend.

Among the books, Gandalf tried to find the words. "Aragorn, she is strong and there might yet be a way for her to find a way to overcome this evil. Man of all the lands are also looking, there might be a chance...." Gandalf's words trailed off, leaving his thought unfinished.

"Gandalf?" Aragorn found the strength to rise from his chair and wander to where the Wizard was standing, seemingly stopped in his tracks like a great stone statue.

"There might be a way."

Aragorn followed Gandalf's eyes until he met with what had captivated the Wizard's sight and mind.

An ancient book among ancient books, dusty on the old shelves.

Elven Medicinal Spells written by none other than the most powerful of all elven healers, Aragorn's foster father when he had been called Estel, Lord Elrond.

---

For hours, the Wizard sat with the books, combing over the ancient wording and deciphering the Quenya. The King of Gondor, after once more pacing a track around the room, left to fulfill some duties which required the King's attention, leaving the Wizard thankfully alone. He did not think he could stand the hovering any longer from the man.

Nothing seemed appropriate, for all the spells used the Elf's inane ability to heal as part of the spell. Every Elf has the power to heal faster and more completely than any mortal and it all traces back to their immortality and their own magical essence.

Arwen, having forsaken her immortality to be with Aragorn, no longer possessed her immortality and all the magic belonging to that state. This is why she was able to catch this disease in the first place and why this book was useless.

Shouting out in dismay, Gandalf threw the book towards the wall, where it bounced off and fell open. Sighing in frustrating, he rose to retrieve it, hoping something may come to his attention he had missed in his glance. Arriving the where the book lie, he bent over to pick it up when he noticed something. The old Wizard could have kicked himself for having overseen this before. Picking the book up, he read the spell with great interest.

---

Sitting in the throne room, Aragorn tried desperately to pay attention to whatever it was the counsel member was trying to ask of him. Thoughts always wondered back to his love, and his hopes to the Wizard in his study.

Suddenly, the door opened and Gandalf came bursting through, not paying attention to the startled gasps from those in attendance.

"Aragorn! I believe I have found something."

Directing his attention to the others in the hall, Aragorn ordered them all out so he and Gandalf could speak uninterrupted.

"What have you found, my friend?"

"Something that escaped my eye the first time I searched through this book, but is now so clear to me that I can't believe I overlooked it."

Aragorn was shaking with excitement, "What is it?"

"The reason that Arwen was infected is because she no longer contains the power of the elves, correct?"

"Yes, yes, this I did know before!"

"Wait, there's more. She is still an elf, physically she still is. Therefore, technically this spell should work on her, just as it would for the soul it was originally intended for."

"I don't understand."

They sat down at a table in the hall with the book as Gandalf explained, "There is a spell in here intended to help a Elf who was attacked by a magic-user, a mage. In the times this book was written a Mage was not very uncommon, now they practically don't exist. One thing a mage could do is strip an Elf of their abilities for a while, leaving them vulnerable to injury and to disease."

The last word made Aragorn look up with interest. "Please, finish your point and tell me how this can help Arwen."

"Patience, Aragorn. If this were to happen and the weakened Elf did sustain something threatening to their life, this spell would give the ability for a healthy Elf to transfer their healing ability to another long enough for either their hurt to be mended, or for them to regain their own ability to recover. This spell might still work on Arwen and if we could find an Elf willing to do this, she could recover from the disease."

Rising up, Aragorn thought over the situation, "But Gandalf, all of my adopted kin in Rivendell have sailed for the West."

"There is someone, Aragorn."

Eternity had never seemed so short, immortality so far and that questionable fate that awaited all beings with life so close.

Arwen felt so helpless and so tired, never in all her long life had she ever felt this way. Sitting alone, she could not have, nor wished for, any visitors for she did not wish anyone to have to suffer what she was inflicted with. The knowledge of the fate of all who had, so far, had this disease would not leave her mind for one second. Even all the thoughts of her beloved Aragorn, her father and her twin bothers did not give her any comfort from the cold truth.

Only the singing of the morning birds brought her soul a moment's quiet peace.

Her end was near and there was naught she could do to stop it, no one could save her now.

---

Gandalf's pipe had seen more smoking time this night than any other. Going over options, the Wizard could think of none other. The constant and irritating pacing of his company was making him quite dizzy by this point.

"How can we ask that of him? He has his own problems to deal with, his lands are constantly being attacked and threatened by the shadow. It's ever encroaching upon him and his people and will not relent. We would ask him to come here and surrender his ability to Arwen while his people suffer?"

"Only for a short time, Aragorn. Besides, you know Legolas, he is both a dear friend to you and to Arwen and if he knew what despair the both of you were in he would not allow you to stop him." Gandalf could not believe that Aragorn was even considering not asking the elf prince, but desperate circumstances often bring things into new perspective.

"I care for him like a brother. What if something goes wrong and I lose them both? There are so few of their kind left anymore." Aragorn couldn't find it in him to continue. Thoughts strayed to his foster father, Arwen's father. 'If only he were here', the King mused, 'he would know what to do, he could save her. Without him, we are so lost.'

Gandalf did not say a word while Aragorn finally stood still, deep in thought, for he knew none would be needed.

"We can ask him, we can see what his response would be." Aragorn relented. 'I know what his response would be', Aragorn then thought to himself, 'he would be insulted we waited this long to seek him out.'

---

Eryn Lasgalen was not as it ever had been. Once called Greenwood, then to be called Mirkwood, it was a constantly changing land never knowing a moment's peace. The Elves who remained and dwelt there found terror constantly at their footsteps and for the younger elves, they had never known a life without threat, battles and war.

Legolas, son of Thranduil, son of Oropher, sat in his small study looking over maps of the southern border, his charge. His plans were to lead a group of elves to Ithilien, however he had to be sure that the path was safe enough for them to travel there and have time to build secure structures without fear of attack. If they were to be attacked before their new home was settled, they would quickly find themselves out in the open with no stronghold to keep the enemy back.

Stretching from his chair, his rose in order to allow his long limbs to flex after sitting idle for all afternoon. The Elf did not enjoy being so contained, but unfortunately, he couldn't live all his life out in the wilds. Duties of the life he was born into would always follow him and he would need to see to those who looked to him for leadership now.

A flash of color outside the window caught the Elf's eye. It was a rider approaching, bearing the flag of Gondor.

'Odd,' Legolas thought to himself, 'Aragorn and I just saw each not too many moons ago. Why would he need to send a messenger here?' His attention no longer with the maps, he made his way down to the front staircase of the stony palace to find what news has been brought.

"Message from Gandalf the White and King Elessar of Gondor to Legolas of the Woodland Realm."

The rider looked exhausted, as if he had not taken one break between the two lands.

"My gratitude, Representative of Gondor. Please, allow us to see to your needs and to your mount. My reply shall to forthcoming."

"Thank you, Sir." The man walked slowly off into the court where food and rink always lay out for anyone who might be in need of it.

---

Still standing in the entrance, Legolas opened the note and read it. There were no choices and no doubt slipped into his mind of what he must do.

He ran for the stables.

'What if he does not come? But, what if he does?' Aragorn tried to take in his beloved wife's beautiful gardens, hoping to find a moment's peace there. Yet, the blooming roses brought no comfort. Arwen fought bravely, and was not as worse as a human would be at this point, but her suffering was still present and her pain very real. They had waited for news from Mirkwood, news of the reply from his friend.

Powers belonging to the Elves still remained often elusive to Elessar, though he had been raised in the Last Homely House of Elrond. Often he would watch his foster father employ the magic of elven rituals, including their powerful spells of healing. Learning as much as he could, he still knew little and cursed himself for only being a mere mortal. If he had been an Elf, he could have learned more, but if he had been an Elf, none of this would have happened in the first place.

'What would happen if I screamed right now?' Almost cracking a smile for the first time in many moons, he finally returned to the gates of his palace in Gondor.

In between the giant stone pillars of the entrance sat some guards, absently milling about and speaking about the new barmaid in the tavern on the west end of town.

With nothing else to keep his attention, Aragorn focused his gaze to the horizon and the red and orange sunset shining through the main gate. The colors were magnificent and for one moment, Aragorn did find that peace he was desperately looking for.

As the colors faded into the darkening sky, a figure began to form coming quickly over the horizon. Squinting, it wasn't long before he was able to make out the smooth and graceful movements of an Elf.

Legolas.

Running down the front steps, he reached his friend in front of the entrance. Smiling shallowly, Aragorn was reminded of moments from their long history and words once spoken were repeated.

"You're late." Aragorn spoke with a hushed tone and Legolas smiled in return, embracing his friend.

As they walked inside, the Elf prince spoke, "Forgive me, but at least I had good sense to avoid any dangerous rivers along my path." Somehow his friend's presence relaxed the man, even if the events of their meeting were stresses beyond belief.


Entering the halls, Aragorn first looked to see to Legolas' comfort, offering him something to refresh himself. Taking only a bit of wine, for he had a taste for it as all of Thranduil's realm tended to, he did not embrace too many pleasantries but sought to find out how he could help and the reasons his presence was so badly needed.

Looking up, Legolas met Aragon's eyes, "It pains me when I read the letter you sent. How does the Lady Arwen fair?"

"She is holding her own for the moment, it is only a question of when that hold will begin to slip, though."

Nodding, the Elf once more wanted answers, "I came as quickly as I could, for you said there might be a way of my helping. Please tell me what I can do."

"You can do for her more than anyone else, Legolas." The pair spun to see Gandalf standing in the doorway. Despite his elderly and rustic appearance, the Wizard always had the uncanny knack of appearing out of nowhere just when he was needed. In his hand was the Elven book that contained all the answers they were seeking.

---

Long hours passed as Gandalf told Legolas about the spell he had found. He told him about the way the spell would help Arwen and the way it would hinder him.

"If it will aid her, then we must try."

'This Little One is still as stubborn as he was when he was but a child.' Gandalf thought, then spoke aloud, "Remember, you will be weakened by this, but it may not show unless something happens to you."

Aragorn look to his friend, the worry and stress obviously wearing him down. What if he lost them both? Could he bear to go on knowing the circumstances that brought them both down?

Legolas had already made his choice, his face set in determination, "I will be fine. I am not needed in my homeland. The last battles have driven our enemies far from our borders and my father is a great military leader. I am certain he will fare well without me for a short time."

"So be it, Prince." Gandalf began to concentrate on the complex casting the spell would require while Aragorn marched up to his friend.

"You're sure?"

"Of course, do not worry yourself more so else you may drive yourself even more insane. Not only do I do this for you, but also for Arwen. You forget, I've known and been close to her for many ages, longer than you're brief visit to this world. I cannot sit by and do nothing while she suffers if there is a way to save her." Legolas folded his arms, a signal that the conversation was ended.

---

Time slowly passed as Gandalf finished studying the spell and gathered all the essential items needed for its casting. The unfortunate news for Aragorn was that he could not be present when the spell was performed. Legolas needed to be in contact with Arwen and Aragorn could not go near her for fear of joining her in her predicament. This created even more pressure upon the young king as he paced furiously outside the royal bedroom where the events that would shape Arwen's fate were being cast to the fates.

Arwen's mind was a blur of different images. Before her was Legolas, one of her closest and dearest friends. He was here for a reason, but her fever kept her from remembering why. She took comfort merely in his presence.

Gandalf the White was also with her, the three of them were together not one of them making a sound in the beautiful room of stone floors beneath them and cloth tapestries adorning the walls. The chill in the air gave the room an odd feel and even Legolas, an Elf, was affected by its numbing quality.

He did not fear what he was going to do. He could not stand by and watch the two closest people be brought down when he could do something. He was strong, he could save her and not give in himself. His friends would both live and be even closer to each other than they were before.

What was most on the Woodland Elf's mind was Arwen's bravery. How her beauty was unaffected by this terrible affliction. She remained, as ever, the Evenstar, eternal and unfading. She would remain by Aragorn's side in the far future.

"Legolas?" Snapped out of his thoughts by Gandalf, Legolas acknowledged the Wizard's call with a nod and prepared himself for what was to come. His could only hope that the Valar were looking down upon him with favor as he tried to save his friends from despair.

---

The night grew cold as Aragorn watched the stars blaze and the moon forge a path across the night sky. There was nothing more he could do. He had tried everything he could, now it was all up to the fates to forge what would happen next.

Footsteps were heard, slowly approaching the open fields behind the noble castle of Gondor. Sitting up, Aragorn saw Gandalf approach.

"Peace, Aragorn. All is well."

"How did it go? How do they fare?"

"Legolas is in his room sleeping. The spell took much out of him and I doubt he'll have much strength until this ordeal is over." The King's eyes told the Wizard that there was more that needed to be said. "It is too soon to know if this had helped the Lady. We must wait now. Time will decide her fate."

Aragorn broke eye contact with the Wizard, once more peering at the stars above, the cherished light that had created the Elves and the light to which they always looked to in times of hardship and of joy.

"You may visit him. He might welcome the company." Gandalf smiled slightly as the man turned quickly to look at him, to make sure he had not heard those words on the wind, for he willed above all to see if his friend truly did sleep comfortably.

---

Trying not to wake the sleeping Elf, Aragorn opened the door slowly to his room. After giving his eyes a moment to adjust he could make out his friend's figure lying on the bed. With careful steps, he approached and saw that Legolas was indeed asleep, on his back with his eyes closed. Alarmed by this unexpected affect of the spell, Aragorn almost ran for Gandalf when the Elf took in a deep breath and began to stir.

Hazy eyes met the man's and a slight smile crossed Legolas' face.

"I am glad to see you, my friend." Sitting up slowly, he took in the man's shocked expression at seeing him awake. He may have been weakened, however his keen elven senses were still as sharp as they ever were.

Returning the smile, the man sat on the edge of the bed, "I am also glad to see you. How do you feel? I was concerned to see you sleeping with closed eyes."

"It is not uncommon for an Elf to do so when a sleeping spell is cast upon one by a certain mischievous Wizard when one's guard is down."

Aragorn resisted the temptation to laugh at his friend's comment and obvious grudging over what their friend had done. "I do hope you feel well again soon. Something tells me that you might have some revenge planned out for that certain someone."

Legolas' eyes twinkled with delight, "Come now, one would think me a mere elfling not even having earned warrior braids yet."

The two held a glare at each until it was broken by laughter filling the room. After a few moments, it was contained and Aragorn broke the following silence.

"How are you really?"

"Honestly, Aragorn, other than being slightly tired I feel nothing. Hopefully, it is Arwen who is feeling the affects and is finally going to beat this so you can go back top your normal self and not this insane person that has taken your form."

---

Days passed and Arwen did begin to feel better. Legolas slept every night and would often be caught napping in the sunlight, but insisted that everything was fine.

Gandalf smiled at the progress Arwen was making, but was concerned that it would take her longer to recover than he originally thought, but seeing how well Legolas was doing in his condition, this problem did not worry him much.

In the afternoon of the fifth day, Aragorn sat with his friend in the gardens overlooking the entrance to the palace. A chessboard sat in between them.

"Come Legolas, you may be immortal, but even elves do not take this long to make their move."

"My father and the general of his army have a game going that has lasted five hundred years. I must say my father was in a little bit of trouble in the first hundred years, but in the last twenty years has managed a turn around and has his opponent on the run."

Smiling, Aragorn sat and waited for the move. While doing so, he took in the beautiful day and the rolling hills of his land. Everything was fresh and green and the air had the sweet smell of life in it.

Riders were approaching. This was not uncommon for the palace of the land of Gondor and the King watched them come ever closer. He recognized their banners as they cleared the fields and rode towards the entrance without delay. The Elf made his move and lifted his eyes only to notice the distraction in his comrade. Following Aragorn's gaze he looked upon the party.

They bore the banners of Eryn Lasgalen.

As the palace rose in the horizon, Turion knew the object of his search was nearing. The horrors he had just left were still fresh and racing throughout his mind, images of blood making the river of the forest run red.

Trying to push this terrible thought out of his mind, he pushed his exhausted horse even harder.

---

The pair could only sit together at first as they watched the small party get ever closer to the gates of the palace. Finally, Legolas turned his eyes to Aragorn. Uncertainty and foreboding shone in the blue eyes of the Elf as he rose to greet those of his land. He had informed his father, King Thranduil, that his trip to Gondor might require several weeks and his father did agree to this time away. The reason why these elves of his land would be already riding to Gondor eluded him as he finally met up with the on-comers. Legolas didn't even notice Aragorn keeping pace with him and standing behind him as they waited for the elves to dismount.

The leading elf, distraught and weary bowed low. He wore the tunic of a warrior, but in keeping with the tradition of the elves of the Greenwood, he did not wear armor. Their society never had and it cost them dearly at the Battle of the Last Alliance where Legolas' grandfather Oropher was killed, but in the race of elves one does not argue with long tradition.

"Prince Legolas." The elf finally spoke upon rising.

"Turion, Captain of the eastern army, what brings you here? Certainly my father does not already seek my return." Distressed by the look on the captain's eyes, Legolas waited for a response.

"No, Sire. We, your subjects seek your return."

Shock and silence hung in the air, giving it electricity that raised the hair on Aragorn's neck. Glancing at Legolas, he saw the wonder at the complete meaning behind those words in his friend's face.

The King of Men thought it best to end the silence, "Please, Captain, come through the gates. You and your company look of complete exhaustion. All can be told inside." The Elf Legolas had called Turion took in Aragorn's intentions for a moment before relenting.

The small group of five elves followed one of the guards Aragorn assigned to leading them into the main hall while Aragorn turned back towards Legolas who had not moved from his spot on the lawn.

"Legolas?"

Pained eyes finally moved and met his. Grief in the eyes of an elf could bring despair to anyone who looked at them. "I can't go in there, Aragorn. I can't hear the words, for as long as I have not heard the words it is not real. It is not true. What evil that has befallen my homeland and forced a response all this distance?" His whispering was so silent that Aragorn could barely make out any of his friend's words.

"Hiding from it will not make it go away. The sooner you face that you fear the sooner you can overcome it."

Nodding numbly, Legolas proceeded into the halls with Aragorn walking step in step along with him.

---

Elves, by nature, are not emotional on a daily basis. They do enjoy merriment and do experience the range of emotions every creature born into this world do. Given their long lifespans, they can take the time to absorb each emotion and have no need to squeeze them all into every day like mortals often do. However, on this day and in this hall, emotions ran high for all present and none in the room envied Turion his task.

Finally, the Elf was able to find words, find his voice.

"My Prince, Eryn Lasgalen was attacked three days ago. Never had we even seen such an attack, brutal and organized, the orcs and Uruk-hai broke through our southern border." Pausing he took a slow breath, knowing that this fact would bring his kind Prince more pain in addition to that which was already coming. "They knew exactly where to hit us and when."

"Go on." His voice had cracked, but it was the best the Prince could do.

Not able to maintain eye contact, Turion looked onto the marble table, "They reached the stone palace in force. We tried to keep them back, but they outnumbered us. Our river yet runs with the mixed blood of elf and orc. Only too late did we see where their efforts were coordinated and what their intentions were."

Eyes rising once more, he met Legolas' uncertain gaze.

"Your father is dead."

Rising with as much dignity as possible, the Captain approached the Prince who was shaking his head in denial.

Going down onto one knee, he held out his father's sword, still stained black from the blood of enemies slain.

"Hail, Legolas, King of Mirkwood."

Walking the halls of the Palace of Gondor, Aragorn searched for his friend. He had been respectfully asked to leave them room with all the elves from Mirkwood so the newest King could sit alone with his father's sword and his own inner demons.

Upon returning to the room, he had found that Legolas had slipped away without anyone hearing him. One of the many perks of being an Elf, silent steps. The searching took a while, but finally the object of his pursuit was betrayed by the sound of his activities.

All Aragorn could hear was the flowing of water from one of the washing basins and looking into the room from the doorway.

"Legolas?"

The Elf didn't even turn to recognize him but kept on with his job. When Aragorn approached closer, he finally saw that his friend was desperately trying to remove the stained blood from his father's sword.

"Legolas, are you okay?" From an even closer angle the man noticed cuts on his friend's hands from the frantic way he was handling the sharp weapon.

"Please respond to me, my friend. Do not keep all your emotions inside your heart."

When Legolas finally turned to meet his gaze, Aragorn had to use all his might to keep from looking away for the grief that shone in those eyes could hurt one's very soul.

"From the south." Came the short and weak reply.

"What do you mean?"

Louder and with more force, Legolas continued, "They broke through the southern border."

Confused at why that would bother his comrade more than anything else, Aragorn placed a hand on the Elf's shoulder. "Yes?"

Shrugging in order to escape the grasp Legolas spoke once more.

"The south was my command. I was in charge of protecting the southern border and I left. I abandoned them and my doing so have caused the death of my father."

Fearing the worst for the Elf, Aragorn protested, "I bid you to do so."

"I could have said no! I should have known the danger was far too prominent to leave my charge. My second in command was a wise commander himself, but he did not know the orcs like I do from my many experiences with them. No one knew them like me. I left them to die."

No words of comfort could be said in response. The words Aragorn did find sounded pathetic to his own ears, "I'm so sorry."

"My father asked me why I had to go. He said not to stay away too long. I wonder if he thought of me as he died. I think maybe he wondered why I wasn't there."

Having finished with the sword, Legolas left the room clearly not wishing to be followed at this moment. He left one man alone in a room with bloody water and a choked heart.

---

Gandalf sat in the gardens with his pipe thinking of the times. How he thought nothing could have been darker than the War of the Ring and how fate always had something to spring on the unexpected.

Word of Mirkwood's deadly attack brought a shadow upon all of their successes. Arwen was constantly improving, however would require still more time before she would be well enough to survive on her own. The Elven people currently taking guest quarters screamed of their need to return. At the cost of many, the first wave of attacks was pushed back but more were constantly looming on the horizon. No one knew when the next attempt to seize the Wood-Elf's realm would come.

"I see you sit alone, Mithrandir."

"Yes, Aragorn, for once more things that should have been simple have become inordinately complicated."

Smiling slightly, Aragorn thought of their many other adventures. "It seems to happen to us often."

No one spoke as the sun set that evening. No more words were needed.

---

The next morning brought with it the sun and the departure of the elves. All of the elves. Aragorn was sitting in the reading room with books of military strategy when word came by one of his advisors of the departures.

Running for all he was worth, Aragorn cut Legolas off before he could reach his horse.

"What are you doing?"

"I am leaving. My people need me. I must do all I can."

Exasperated, the man couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You can not go! No only are you lacking all your strength, but you have the healing ability of a mortal and a weak one at that. Something you would normal think as inconsequential could kill you. You are in no shape to fight."

Looking to the other waiting for him, "There is no other option."

"Of course there is! Wait until you have your strength back, you will do no good to your people if you are dead."

"I must do all I can." The Elf turned to prepare his horse for the journey back to Mirkwood, now his Kingdom.

"It's suicide."

Stopping, Legolas finally turned to face his friend. His gaze fell over the man's shoulder. "Do you see that tree?"

"A Willow."

A small smile brought on by fond memory shone on Legolas' face, "My father told me of the trees when I was new to the world. He taught me of tree speech and how to listen to their conversations, but the willow is quiet. Its secrets are the most precious of all, and they do not speak to every Elf. Sometimes the most wonderful voices are the most hidden. This morning I finally understood what they've been trying to tell me for all these centuries."

"What is that?"

"That a whisper is more powerful than a shout. That simply existing and swaying in the wind can have more strength than standing ridged. Did you know that the willow is the only tree an Elf can't climb?"

Looking at the swinging branches, I was easy to understand why, "I did not."

"Perhaps my mere being there will be enough. My presence for my people might give them the power to overcome our enemies. If my existing can bring to them some hope, I believe it is worth my peril and even my death."

The sun had barely cleared the horizon leaving lingering shadows over the land. The King of Mirkwood and his people rode into those shadows to return into the unknown abyss waiting for them in the invaded woods beyond.

All his fault. Everything that had happened to everyone he cared about was all his fault.

His wife, his beloved and beautiful wife was fighting for her life because she fell in love with him, a mortal and gave up everything she was, everything she knew, to be with him in the world of men. Everyone she cared about, save a precious few, had sailed to the west, the Undying Lands. She would never follow them. Never rejoin them, and thusly had also hurt his foster father who did everything to raise him when all had shunned him.

His closest friend and companion, one of the last of a noble and magical race had lost his dear father and was now marching defenseless into a great and mysterious enemy. All the advantage he had being an Elf was stripped of him and now he had a people to lead. A throne he never wished for or intended to have now thrust into his reluctant hands.

All of this would never have happened if only he had been able to stop it. It all traced back to him, though his dearest ones would never allow him to accept responsibility. They would say that it was their own choices, which he brought them to where they are now and not the power of a mortal. All of this did not matter now, all of this was inconsequential to him.

Aragorn struggled for an answer, a way to help both of them. Trying to raise an army to help Mirkwood was impossible. The army of Gondor was not nearly strong enough to give any aid to the Elves, they were barely able to rebuild their own lands at this point, let alone go off and fight once more. There had to be a way, a way to save both of them.

'Damn it!' he thought to himself. 'Why can I not solve this puzzle? Am I not smart enough, clever or wise enough? I should be able to figure this out and help my love and my comrade both.'

Yet, for all this chastising and all his debating no solution came to him. The solution remained a mysterious lady who would not surrender her secrets to him now.

Aragorn stared at the willow tree in his garden and thought of the words Legolas had left him with. Perhaps silence was better than shouting; perhaps if he did not pursue the problem so diligently the way out would come quietly to him.

---

Arwen stood shakily from the bed she had been trapped in for so long. Finally, she was feeling slightly better and could walk the short distance to take in the beautiful view outside her window. The air and the light had changed when she was ill and she wished to return to the comforts outside her confined room.

Looking out from the window, she had seen the group of elves, including Legolas, leave the gates and head towards Eryn Lasgalen. She tried to figure it all out in her head. The meaning of his departure, yet she came up blank. What could possible lure him away at this time, this situation?

Gandalf stood in the doorway, peering at Arwen in the darkened room.

No words, only a heavy silence, filled the air.

---

"What would you have us do? We've just fought one war, how can we fight another? I daresay you tread upon uncertain ground, Elessar, you are but a newcomer to this land. You have done great things for us and that is why we follow you, but we cannot follow you on this."

The advisors, for once since Aragorn had first come to their meetings, spoke in one voice. He had broken down, he had asked for their help in leading a charge into Eryn Lasgalen.

"We can barely hold our lands!"

"You are our king, would you leave us now?"

"The Elves are strong warriors and if they cannot hold this shadow back what makes you think we can?"

The King could not speak one word for all their shouts overlapped and the meaning behind them stung Aragorn's heart.

Finally, these words of despair wore him down and he retreated to the guest room the King was currently using as a bedroom.

---

The journey gave Legolas time to think over how he was going to help his people. He had always thought his father would always lead, always be there. The Prince never thought he would be king, why would he, elves are immortal.

His thoughts also wondered to the fate of his homeland. The ones bearing the grim news of his father's death did not have too much detail about the current situation in Eryn Lasgalen. Legolas did not know if he was riding into a group of Orcs or a burning forest.

He would not allow these thoughts to overwhelm him. He would find out these answers soon enough and for now all that mattered to him was being there with his people. Keeping watch for anything suspicious, Legolas began feeling that nagging tiredness that had plagued him even since being put under this spell. Regret never entered his mind, but the timing of this infliction was poor and his hope rested with the thought that Arwen would be soon recovered and he would be able to lead with full confidence.

As of now, he had not told anyone about his current condition. They did not need him to worry about and Legolas also feared being thought of as weak and unworthy of his new title, his father's title. Glancing down to his waist, he saw his father's strong sword at his side. Memories came back of his father standing tall with that sword. The first time Legolas had ever seen the powerful weapon was when Thranduil unleashed it to slay monsters, which Legolas was convinced, were hiding under his bed.

Since that night, the King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood had used that sword to rally his troops and enforce his power and position. Now, all of that rested with his son and that son was feeling the great weight pressing down on him so strongly that his shoulders sagged under the weight of it all.

Suddenly, he was brought out of his musing my noises from the brush beyond the path they were traveling. All of them halted, unsure of what to make of this noise. It was close and that in of itself shocked the elves, for nothing could get this close without one of them becoming aware.

Another snap of a twig and an elven voice rang out, "Orcs!"

"They must have been hiding in this brush before we were in range." Legolas observed, drawing his bow in order to get a clear shot. The others followed suit.

They waited for another noise to give away their enemies position.

The wind blew through the tall grasses.

Waiting usually never bothered an immortal, but at this moment Legolas was quite annoyed at his situation.

There stood him and his four companions from Eryn Lasgalen staring out into the grassy fields awaiting their enemy to give away their position.

The wind had now shifted, confirming with a foul stench that their advisories were indeed orcs.

The high grasses shifted and moved creating a sea of green giving no indication of where this enemy might attack from exactly. The potential of their enemy gaining the upper hand was high since the tops of the grass came up high on the horses, obscuring the evil approaching.

Still silence, and Legolas' arm began to shake from the strain of holding his bow drawn the entire time. Not a word was spoken between them. Barely even a glance could be afforded in this predicament they had themselves trapped in. Legolas studied the field down the shaft of his arrow, it's deadly tip pointing out into the obscure field.

Orcs were stupid, every creature on Middle-Earth knew that, and the Prince's mind kept going over possibilities that would explain why their foe was waiting so long to strike.

'Perhaps they are napping in the tall grass and have not heard out approach.' His mind seemed logical with that idea. Another one came to him, 'They could be unarmed and unwilling to fight, or they might know they've got no chance of succeeding.' Less likely, but still a good notion.

He heard whispering, loud enough for only an Elf to hear, "What shall we do, my King?"

Sorrow enveloped him and his mind raced, thoughts in his mind kept referring to himself as Prince and here these warriors were referring to him as King. Never would he be able to hear that word and not glance around searching for his father.

Ai, how he wished his father were here.

Legolas began formulating an answer.

Ping!

Almost soundlessly, an arrow streaked out of the grasses and sank right into the throat of the questioning Elf. A chance to react was even denied the poor soul as he fell from his horse with a thud onto the soft ground below.

Able to track where the arrow originated, Legolas returned one, hearing another sickening fall confirming that single orc's location.

No more noise followed and again, they found themselves in this frustrating standoff.

"We cannot remain here, Sire, for we are out in the open atop horses. We are perfect target practice for them."

Agreeing, Legolas swiftly went into action. "The trees ahead border into our homeland. If we make a break we can reach the tree-line and once in the forest, we can perch in the trees and they will not be able to track us."

Another shot, straight into the chest of yet another of Legolas' Elves. Turion returned fire with quick reflexes and true aim.

"Run for the trees!" Legolas cried. The three Elves who remained spurred their horses on with stressed words. The two rider-less horses maintained their connection with the group, keeping up with the others.

Then arrows rained down upon them from all along the path to safety.

"Don't stop! Keep going!" Legolas was in the rear of the group, ready to grab onto any Elf that might fall.

The trees were a blurry sight on the horizon with panic overtaking the horses' usual grace and smoothness causing a bumpy ride.

The cries of orcs finally pierced the veil of silence that had cursed this confrontation. A few that were unlucky enough to have their location betrayed either by sight, sound or the telling movements of the grass were met with elvish arrows. The Elves did not pause at all in order to retaliate against their attackers.

Closer and closer the trees came and they could almost feel the coolness of the shade beneath wide leaves of sturdy trees.

Aiming at an orc dangerously close to their position, Legolas barely realized what had happened when his horse cried out and the ground come up quickly to meet him.

As gracefully as possible, Legolas turned in the fall and looked back to see his friend, his horse with an arrow protruding from his front thigh. It was buried deep into the muscle of the poor creature.

Turion saw Legolas' fall and turned from the shelter ahead, the others stopped as well.

"No, continue into the woods and gain elevation in order to support us!"

Despite their will to help their new King, they obeyed their captain and turned back towards the haven that would gain them strict advantage.

Legolas heard the cries from beyond the grass, the cheers of victory from the dark beings at having brought one of their prey down to their level. Converging on his point, the orcs would find a single Elf easily slaughtered with their superior numbers and lack of open ground needed for the effective use of bow.

Notching an arrow, Legolas demonstrated the patience all elves possessed and simply waited for the first in a numerous series of targets to present itself.

Seeing a speck of black in a sea of green and brown, the Elf fired and, faster than any mortal could, grabbed another arrow and readied it. In only a few moments, his arrow supply was dwindling. Choices were becoming few, either strike with his knives or try to join up with the others.

As he aimed his last arrow, Turion was approaching. He could see what Legolas could not. He could see the orc that had slipped behind Legolas, aiming its black arrow for his back.

Turion reached back to his quiver and grabbed nothing but air.

"Legolas!"

A scream ripped through the air as Arwen curled in on herself as if having been struck by something and in real physical pain. Gandalf, having camped himself in the next room, heard her easily, along with the rest of the castle, and rushed in the offer comfort and discover the source of her pain.

"My child, what is wrong? What ails you so?" She did not respond to his questioning, only moaning in pain and sweating with fever.

They were the symptoms of the illness they were fighting against in the first place. By now Gondor had quarantined the sick into a section of town isolated and downwind. Supplies were kept there for them, and a few did recover, but a great many did perish their bodies being burned quickly after death's grip took them. Luckily, the isolation was successful in keeping the disease from spreading further and Rohan also had great luck and was now practically free from it altogether. However, those that remained ill in Gondor lingered with the affliction for a great while, having to endure constant ups and downs. Few actually did fully recover.

'So odd,' Gandalf thought to himself, 'she was overcoming this affliction with such promise.' He watched her, placing a wet towel on her forehead. What could cause such a sudden and violent relapse?

Moving more quickly than one would think an old man such as he appeared possible, he crossed the elegant bedroom in search of the parchment containing the spell. It spoke of when it would be needed, how to cast it, its affects to both parties and on and on.

Always so long winded were Elrond's books, the wise Elf had a problem getting to the point sometimes.

Suddenly, one paragraph leaped out at him. Gandalf's eyes widened as the riddle's answer was revealed from a cloak of mystery.

---

Aragorn sat up quickly in bed, images of a terrible dream so fresh in his mind that he knew he would not longer sleep this night. He swore a scream broke his sleep, but now there was silence echoing in the night.

Rising, he made his way towards his grand bookshelf to read some of the tales held within. As the reading candle grew shorter, the light of the rising sun grew brighter.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

"Sire, are you awake? Riders have arrived and are asking to speak with you."

Groaning that his morning peace was broken, the King prepared to make himself presentable to these newcomers. "I shall be down shortly." Sighed the Dúnadan.

The marble hallways of the palace of Gondor seemed even longer and colder this morning. A misty dew clung to the land yet to be burned away by the unforgiving sun.

When he entered the Main Hall, the suns light did not seem unforgiving any longer, but brought with it a new day filled with promise.

"Elrohir! Elladan!" His foster twins smiled back to their brother, happy to see him after a long absence even for their race.

Walking forward, Elladan broke the questioning silence, "We heard the news of this illness and have come to lend our aid. I'm sure father, even from Valinor could deal us punishment if we didn't offer you our help."

Relief washed over Estel, the name this pair would normally call him. Perhaps there might be a way to find help for Legolas. For the dream he had experienced told him of great evils befalling his friend in his moment of weakness.

"Your help is most needed, for in helping your sister the new King of Mirkwood has placed himself in grave danger. The three of us together can bring him protection that only a single being never could."

Aragorn laid out the entire tale. The illness, Mithrandir's plan, the spell, Legolas, the death of Thranduil and of Legolas' departure.

"What an evil tale you weave, Estel." Elrohir commented with his brother nodding in confirmation. "What would you have us do?"

Before Aragorn could respond, Gandalf gave the answer. "You three must travel to Erin Lasgalen immediately. I feel something terrible has happened for Arwen is relapsing and quickly."

The King's heart fell onto the floor, he had at least been able to breathe a moment of relief from the fact that his beloved wife was improving, but this news brought back the despair.

Elladan also looked gravely concerned, "What could have caused her to succumb back into illness?"

"I am unsure, my old friend, but I can only place the connection to Legolas. Mirkwood could be facing a more serious threat than we could know." Turning to Aragorn, he stressed his words as clearly as possible, "You must make haste and meet with Legolas. With all possible speed, Aragorn, for if you fail we could lose them both."

At that moment, it did not matter that all they were sending was one human and two elves into the unknown of a land constantly plagued by darkness. All that mattered was his loved ones, not his own life, not even his counsel which would, no doubt, never approve of such an action.

They would bring back their friend, save him and the Queen of Gondor.

The two elves and one man set out on the journey as quickly as supplies could be gathered. Not before the twins had seen their sister, though. Entering her room was a chilling moment for Elrohir and Elladan, for the pair had always known Arwen as the strong and beautiful elf maiden she had been.

Now, her relapse had been violent and consuming. She did not respond to their cheerful bantering, which had always brought her out of any ill mood she could put herself into or thrown into by dark events. Their reputation for playfulness and mischief was known throughout the lands of elves, men and even dwarves.

Together they kept her company, though they were unsure if she even knew they were there. Her face was a mask of exhaustion brought on my pain and a remedy given to her by Mithrandir. The Wizard thought it best to keep her sedated in order to keep the strain on her body and mind to a minimum.

---

The paths of the forests taken by the Mirkwood Elves left no trace of their passing. Only Aragorn's knowledge of route Legolas would take when they were together guided him in their venture. Few words were spoken and even the trees were silent, almost as if they were afraid to speak.

The sun was shining, but the humidity was high. Perfect weather for a storm to brew and one could feel it forming and begin its journey towards their position.

Finally, after a driving the horses almost to collapse, the forest parted into a grassy plain. Here the wind was able to find them much easier and give them the comfort that only a cool breeze can provide.

The grasses were high, and there still lay no exact path telling of the passing of Legolas and his company. Here, however, the land did speak and the twins knew that this was not a welcoming place, that something fell had happened here.

"I believe we should be careful here. Something is amiss and it is not safe even now."

Aragorn nodded at Elrohir's words. He may not have the perception of a firstborn, but even a man can tell when to keep his guard up.

High clouds began rolling in, causing the brightness of the sun to decrease. The black clouds were finally visible with their flashes of light and encroaching grumbles. Soon, it would hit and they were in a grassy and unprotected plain.

"We should keep moving."

Elladan used his gifted vision to peer into the distance, "I can see the forest of Mirkwood, and if we keep up this pace for just a while longer the thick wood will provide shelter enough for us to wait out the storm."

A few fat drops began to fall sporadically around them, every now and then landing on the Ranger's head. The lightning was now just about their heads and the timing between the flashes of light and the following thunder told them the main body of the storm was very close indeed.

Their haste would not be deterred and Aragorn only saw tall grasses in front of him and felt them graze along his shins with their sharp edges. It would not be long now, the darkening wood was only a moment away.

Suddenly, the grasses cleared. They entered an area where all that stood high was now trampled down and broken. Their horses were even startled by the sharp change in the environment, bucking and stopping in fright.

However, it was not the grass that truly scared the horses, but seeing one of their own laying dead in front of them.

The clouds broke, the thunder rolled and the rain came down in sheets.

"Legolas' mount." Aragorn whispered, but not soft enough for his companion's ears to miss the man's fear at what this sign meant.

Dismounting quickly, Aragorn ran to the fallen horse. An arrow in its thigh had felled the beast, but a jagged slick through its neck by a dull orc blade had ended its life.

"Aragorn!" Elrohir shouted, "Do not allow yourself to be distracted. We do not know if the enemy lingers!" The storm caused Estel to still barely hear his foster brother.

The horse's cruel fate brought grief into Aragorn's mind, but the thought of what this meant for his friend brought sheer terror into his soul.

They could only continue as they had done. Their only hope was to find at least one of the Mirkwood Elves and find the answers they so desperately needed.

Arwen was relapsing, which meant that Legolas was hurt or could even have been slain. There was no evidence of either here. Aragorn did not notice the small gathering of bright elven blood as the waters of the storm soaked and faded it into the ground.

The great forest of Mirkwood was think and unyielding. Even the power of the great storm could not fully penetrate the canopy above the travels. Aragorn had traveled these woods often with Legolas, and the Wood Elf showed him exactly how to survive in the dreadful woods he called home. The Prince told Estel what plants to avoid, where the spiders tended to nest and where to find the best streams for water. All these lessons were coming into play as the trio made their way to the storm fortress of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood.

They attempted to follow the path that Aragorn believed Legolas would take, but if Legolas was no longer leading they could be on any of the hundreds of paths leaving from where they were to where they wanted to be.

Aragorn would not let the consideration enter his mind that his friend was not well, that he might be in danger like a mortal. That could never be a possibility.

Elladan was keeping a close eye on the woods surrounding their small trail. Actually, in most places the path they were on would never be considered anything suitable for traveling along, but in Mirkwood it was one of the most well seen paths through the forest.

---

They had walked what seemed like many hours. As deep as they were in the forest, they could no longer tell if it was night or day. The light was always a mysterious indirect glow, like from the mood behind a veil of swiftly flowing clouds.

It was in this mist that finally some evidence was given that others had just passed this way.

Elrohir gave a look of surprise, "They cannot be much farther in front of us, we must hurry."

With all speed, they continued until shapes could be seen in the distance through a small break in the oppressive woods.

Rushing ahead, Aragorn gave a whistle to the other party. Legolas also had taught him the calls used by the Elves to communicate and avoid unfortunate mistakes in identity.

His foster-brothers were close behind him as the gap was narrowed.

"Legolas!" He called.

He had found him. After all the tracking and all the worry, he had once more found his friend. In his mind he still wondered how he ever let him go in the first place into such peril.

"Aragorn." Came a weak reply from one of the horses, this horse was being led by another Elf for it was obvious that Legolas had no power to ride with control.

His injuries were severe, but he been attended too. The bandages covering a great deal of his body were already getting soaked through. The bleeding was not stopping.

"We do not understand." Came a remark from one of the Mirkwood Elves. Aragorn was so struck by his friend's appearance he didn't turn around to see who was speaking. "He should be healing well by now, but the bleeding is still continuing. We did not know what to do, so we decided to make way for the palace as soon as possible."

"It is an ancient magic that keeps him from healing."

"You know of it?"

"It is because of me that he endures it." Aragorn finally turned and waited for judgment.

Turion then approached the man, "That is between you and our new King. All that matters now is saving his life."

Aragorn once more looked to Legolas. The Elf appeared to be semi-conscious from bloodloss, but was obviously very hurt. Slowly, Aragorn brought him down from the horse in order to inspect his injuries closer and perhaps get him better outfitted for the rest of the trip.

"I'm here, Legolas. Just relax."

"You're wasting time, Aragorn. Hurry to the palace and prepare the others for the attack that is coming. They need to be prepared." Legolas' hoarse whispers were not enough to deter the Ranger from his work. They lives of the two people which mattered most to him were bound together before him and he would not even think about risking that.

"You are important, they will need a leader. You must lead them into the battles that lie ahead."

Knowing that trying to make Aragorn relent would be a waste of energy, Legolas did not press that matter, but let the man continue.

"I am sorry. I allowed myself to be caught up in the moment and did not see the full picture."

Aragorn bandaged yet another bleeding wound, "Anyone, mortal or no would have been distraught at the events that had occurred. Do not blame yourself. Elven patience isn't rock hard." Aragorn glanced at his brothers, "Believe me, I know some elves who have never shown patience or restraint."

"Who could he mean?" Elladan questioned. Elrohir simply shrugged.

When Aragorn had finished, Legolas was nearly unconscious and the man had to lift him onto the horse and position him so most of his weight was leaning forward onto the horse's neck.

"We must hurry, there is little time."

The shadows and dark shaped haunted him, followed him throughout the paths of the elven dreamscape.

The tall grass around him, reaching for the sky.

A sly wind grazing through his fine hair.

A field outside his beloved forest.

"Legolas!"

The voice of his friend echoed in his mind, the moment when he thought the Hall of Mandos were opening. It was in that moment, when hope had fled that he had turned towards the creature with the arrow. In that moment Legolas had taken the arrow wound in his side, and not in his heart where it's original target had been. Then, he immediately pulled it from his soft flesh and used it to give the Orc a fatal stabbing from its own arrow through its eye.

All that came afterwards was darkness, confusion and doubt. Suddenly, everything he had known had been lost. Immortality was no longer something to be counted out, but a fickle friend easy for forsake him.

Trusted friends were speaking to them, but they seemed lost in a fog that was thick and would not relent. Time passed, but he thought it did only because it was supposed to. Aragorn had joined him, the man stood by him and gave him encouragement. That's when a horrible memory hit him.

Gandalf. The spell.

Arwen.

She was bound to him and he to her, she could only be suffering as well by his injury. If he faltered, if he succumbed then what would befall her? Would she then be doomed to join him in death, a mortal's death?

These thought would not allow his hazy mind to rest and he fought with all his spirit as he felt himself lifted onto a horse once more to resume the journey towards home, and whatever challenge awaited him there. Whatever fate would deal him.

---

Hours passed, and Aragorn was relieved to see the familiar sights that heralded the Palace's existence. Legolas mumbled quietly now and then, but otherwise remained silent and still on the horse. The Elf stayed strong, though, not failing under the pressure.

All of Aragorn's hopes rested in the well-being of his friend, and all of his nightmares lie ahead.

At long last, they had arrived in the stony fortress of Mirkwood, Legolas' new charge. No pleasantries were exchanged as their sole purpose was to get Legolas to healers and to rest from the trials he had endured, both mentally and physically. To suffer the mental blow of losing one's father, followed by the physical blow of his injuries, none could be sure of the Elvenking's intentions towards Middle Earth any longer. Would he decide to remain, or decide to fade into the mists of time?

---

Time passed and Aragorn did naught but remain at his friend's side. Hope faded into despair as his friend battled a fever and the strain of recovering from such terrible injuries with the speed of a mortal. If he had not agreed to Aragorn's request, he would have been long healed by this point and bugging Aragorn to return to his kingdom and attend to his wife.

The clever north wind came in the window, stirring the spirit.

Finally, during the breaking of the dawn after a night filled with a chill wind, Legolas opened his sight to the world, and to a deep sleeping King of Gondor.

"So, is this how you attend to all your duties?" Legolas weakly asked.

Aragorn jumped at the first noise from his friend, "Only those of extreme importance, usually I just nap from my bedroom."

A small smile crept onto their faces, "You have stayed by me, my friend. I promised myself I would not pass for you would be crushed with two losses in one moment."

"You needn't worry now, you are on the mend."

Legolas looked down to avoid Aragorn's gaze, "I don't know what to do. My father would wish to remain, however I feel we cannot hold back the encroaching evil any longer."

"What are you saying, Legolas?" Their eyes gazed into one another, seeing more than color, but seeing into the thoughts that lie behind them.

Whispering into the winds, Legolas spoke what he never thought he could say, "We may need to leave Mirkwood."

Disbelief shone in Aragorn's eyes, for never would he have thought he would hear such words from his friend.

"Legolas, you cannot be serious. It is only the medicines speaking. Rest, things will look better once you've slept."

Eyes as deep as the ocean peered back at him, "I've slept more in the past few days than I have in the past year. Never have things looked clearer, this is the only choice."

"Legolas, please."

"No." Legolas said, silencing Aragorn. The man never heard his quiet elven friend speak with that much force. "Aragorn, I will not see my people destroyed because of pride. I have learned in this incident that there is much more important things in this world. There is a whole other realm waiting for my people, I must lead them there."

The finality in that statement left no room for argument.

"I'm afraid the end has come to the Elves of Northern Mirkwood."

Aragorn could only look down in quiet sentiment of all that had just passed into myth and memory.

---

A fog was all that could be seen. Thick and dark, there was naught that could pierce it. Yet, through it all came a commanding voice calling out from beyond.

"Fear not, child. Awaken."

Trying to reach for that far and away, heavy eyelids raised and allowed precious sight to bring understanding to the world.

"Good, very good. Look at me, Arwen."

Finally, the gentle tones of Mithrandir were welcomed and his friendly eyes brought her joy.

"You gave me quite a scare there for a while. I feared the worst, but you have begun recovering nicely. Shortly, the spell will be no more."

She sat up on her elbows, "The spell is fading?"

A hearty laughter filled the room, "Of course, you are overcoming your illness. As you do, the spell becomes obsolete and will fade away until it is no more."

"Legolas?"

"He will be whole and completely restored again shortly. Never fear, young one."

She smiled tiredly, "You are the only one who called me that."

"We are all young, Arwen, we all have elders."

They sat together in silence, for no more words were needed.

---

"Prepare the people, we will depart from Mirkwood as soon as we have everything we need for the journey."

"Yes, my Liege." A small Elf ran off to the kitchens to alert the staff of their needs. Legolas walked with a quick pace to the large meeting halls where the counsel representing the people was currently meeting. They had been informed of Legolas' decision and their new King currently went to discuss their plans and thoughts about the upcoming trials.

The room he entered was massive, displaying parts of the rock face the palace was built on. Murals showed great battles the Wood-elves had fought in over the millennia, now I was all to be left the time and for the forest to reclaim.

The rose when he entered, each Elf there being noble and wise beyond any mortal on Middle Earth.

Bowing to show his undying respect, Legolas addressed them, "Do we have a plan for the fastest way without being seen by our enemies?"

"No."

Turning, he was Turion standing there, in full armor.

"Turion? Why are you here?"

"As captain of the army, the counsel thought it best that I speak to you on their behalf in this matter."

Legolas shook his head, "I do not understand."

"Yes, you do Legolas. You would not be the son of Thranduil if you did not." Cundur, advisor to Oropher and Thranduil stood firm. "Legolas, little one, things may be desperate, but we will overcome."

"How?"

Turion stepped forward, "You shall lead us against them."

Pausing, Legolas gave the concept serious thought. "They number so many, they are so near and we are so few."

"We will not sacrifice our home and everything we have fought and died for over the course of time." Smiling slightly, the captain continued, "We will fight bravely and without regret for our decisions, we will follow you and give darkness a reason to leave these woods and never return."

Looking around the room, the Elvenking saw that all assembled there stood together. Memories flooded back to him, of his father standing in front of his troops before a battle many years ago.

'Let the enemy never see our backs. Remember that we, in the end, are fighting for each other!'

Behind him, dancing in the wind, stood a willow tree.

Closing his eyes, that image burned into his mind, Legolas knew what he must do.

"We will fight."

In the armory, all the elves prepared themselves. Grabbing weapons and anything to fight an enemy, they surged into the center courtyard of the palace. Wearing only light armor, in accordance with Mirkwood tradition, they were ready and eager to face their enemies.

"The enemy has been assessed. They are amassed only a short distance from this very spot that we all stand. We only have one try at this, if we fail then that is the end. If we succeed, we can live life in a way that few have known, in peace!"

The elves smiled at Legolas words, waiting for him to continue. They knew that he was now his father's son and the true king.

"The forest has been our friend and home for all of our existence. We will not abandon it to the enemy, we will not leave it to be destroyed!"

Immediately, they began streaming out of the courtyard and headed south, where an army awaited them.

Turning to join his people, Legolas ran face to face with Aragorn. The man was holding his powerful sword at the ready.

"I cannot ask you to join us, Aragorn."

A small smile crossed Aragorn's face, "You cannot deny me either. You stood with me against impossible odds so I shall stand with you."

Apprehension showed in Legolas' face and one thought pressed in on his mind, "If we fail two lands will lose their leaders. Gondor cannot afford to lose you."

Shrugging, Aragorn responded, "Then we had better not fail."

Legolas returned his friend's smile.

The elves of Mirkwood marched throughout the night, coming across their foe as dawn's light began forcing the darkness into retreat.

So too, did the elves force darkness into retreat.

The armies that camped in the wood did not anticipate such an attack from an enemy believed to be defeated. An enemy that they had made to be leaderless and lost in a sea of despair, but from this sea of blackness a beacon shone brightly, leading them to safety.

There was none who had more power to overcome that which sought to destroy than the elves' new king.

Aragorn returned to Gondor, to his wife's side and with great expectations of the arrival of their son.

Arwen stood by her husband's side with a renewed sense of understanding of the human condition and of what being mortal means. She could see beyond the surface, into who and what a person really was.

As for Legolas, he ruled in Eryn Lasgalen for many years, until building Ithilien and finally, after all his adventures, sailing went into the Undying Lands leaving the willow trees to whisper and hope to be heard by those left behind.