Masquerade

Elrohir sat by the windowsill's edge, watching the sunrise behind the vale of pink clouds on the horizon made jagged by the mountains. He squinted his eyes and looked down at his hands that were on the edge. Elladan was snoring behind him as usual, the blankets covering him and completely over his head. His pillows were shoved on the floor and a single arm hung over the bedside clenching and unclenching as he dreamed.

They would be leaving for Mirkwood that day and smiling he knew he had to get Elladan up and moving or else they would never go anywhere. Climbing onto the bed, he stood over his brother and a wicked smile crept across his face as he stared at the pile of blankets that rose and fell with Elladan's deep rhythmic breathing. "Sleeping beauty, you can wake up now," he cooed as he began to remove the quilt from the elder twin's peaceful face.

"Elrohir, go away," Elladan mumbled beneath his blankets as he kicked and Elrohir was knocked from the bed onto the floor.

"Do not force me to get a healer in here to wake you," Elrohir growled as he fixed his disheveled hair and stood up in annoyance. Brushing off his clothes he muttered, "these were only just washed too."

Elladan smiled as he lay under the blankets and teased lightly, "I don't think that any of the Elf maidens would mind if you took your clothes off for them to wash."

"You think you are so funny," Elrohir said as he strode to the bed side and narrowed his eyes, casting a scathing glare at the shifting covers that his brother was laughing beneath as he was half asleep. "You know if you don't get up father might go ahead and change his mind. We aren't necessary for him to go you know."

There was silence and a light snore floated up the blankets. Elrohir scowled and then sighed as he shrugged his shoulders dramatically. "I was honestly hoping I wouldn't have to do this." He was glad Glorfindel had left the Healing Ward early that morning. Otherwise he had a feeling that he would be humiliated.

Gathering himself he jumped and landed directly on top of Elladan whom gave a surprised cry. Rolling over he looked up into Elrohir's smiling face and the twinkling grey eyes. Frowning, he grumbled, "oh, get off." Elrohir laughed at his brother's disgruntled voice and the glare on his face. "I said get off," Elladan repeated with some heat.

After falling out of a window, Elladan didn't appreciate this in the least, though he was in no more pain from the rose stickers. He gave Elrohir a shove and the younger twin suddenly collapsed on top of him and said in a teasing voice, "I love you too brother, dear."

"Elrohir…" growled Elladan as his younger brother smiled and propped himself up on his elbows on Elladan's chest placing his chin in his hands so he could stare directly into his elder twin's face. "Elrohir, you have forgotten about my ribs!"

Elrohir quickly and nearly instantaneously backed off and his joyous face was turned to one of instant regret and worry. "Are you alright El-" He didn't get to finish his question because Elladan grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at his head, smacking him square in the face and flipping over his shoulder to break a vase on a table nearby.

Elrohir glared sinisterly and said, "You are a liar, and you are lucky Ada never liked that particular vase."

Elladan just looked extremely smug smiled as Elrohir continued to glare evenly and unrelentingly.

"You seem to be in the habit or breaking things lately. Especially Ada's things. I think you are becoming a klutz like Rothinzil," Elrohir said as he took his brother's clean clothes he had brought for Elladan to change into and tossed them onto the bed.

"There is no comparison," Elladan protested as he stared at the sage colored under shirt, tunic and leggings somewhat incredulously. "These are exactly the same as yours. We haven't dressed identical in years."

Elrohir shook his head as he sat on a chair near the bed and muttered, "You’re right. Roth is even more graceful than you." He snorted and leaned back, placing his arms on the arm rests leisurely as he watched Elladan's expression. It was amusing, or at least more amusing than watching paint dry…

"You exaggerate, brother," Elladan muttered beneath his breath as he started to flip the blankets off his body and climb out of the bed. "What is the occasion that we should dress identical?"

Elrohir thought for a moment and shrugged before looking at the floor tiredly. He sighed and then said quietly, "I miss Estel and the old times. If I can't relive my time with Estel, I wane to relive it with you. Like when we were younger and didn't have so much to worry about."

Elladan nodded and said, "Well I agree that it would be sort of amusing to dress alike again. But I wonder how the rest of Rivendell will take to it?"

"Erestor will be next to himself with aggravation," Elrohir laughed as he stood up and continued to snicker. Elladan began to strip his old nightshirt off and slid the clean undershirt on and then pulled the tunic over his head. Amusement crossed Elrohir's face as he saw the red speckles on Elladan's skin where the thorns had left their mark. Sniggering quietly as he turned around to allow his brother to put his clean leggings on in privacy, Elrohir stared out the window of the ward.

"Okay, I'm dressed," Elladan said as he through his cloths into a heap in the corner. Straightening his tunic and pulling at it, he smiled at Elrohir. But Elrohir noticed his smile was weak and concern gathered onto the younger brother's cheerful face.

"Elladan are you…well?" he asked softly while looking dubiously at his twin, who was giving him a strange look.

"Yes. I mean the only thing wrong is that I think I pulled some of my muscle away form my cracked ribs. But I should be alright," Elladan warded off his brother's over concern over such a small thing. "Cracked ribs are a minor injury when you really think about it."

"It depends on where they are cracked," came a calm voice that lingered in the air. Helinyetillë strode in with Erestor following directly behind her, reading over some reports of the herbal stock or something of that nature. The maiden smiled and produced some bandages that she had rolled up in her hand. "While Lord Erestor checks through my records of stock (which he will find to be flawless) I shall bind your ribs to ensure the muscle is not separated from the bone."

Elladan rolled his eyes and grumbled crossly, “I just put my tunic on!" His indignant look was priceless.

Helinyetillë crossed her arms and rocked back on her heals before she said, "Well Lord Elladan, you can just take it off." Erestor walked past her towards the storage rooms, shaking his head as he went. His eyes continued to be locked on the paper and its contents.

"Helinyetillë, how exactly do you find time to write all this down?" asked Erestor from the storage room as he gazed into all the boxes to ensure that they were low on nothing. He felt the texture of the Athelas leaves to make sure they had not some how lost their verve and virtue. He was amazed to find they were remarkably well kept.

Helinyetillë talked over her shoulder as she prepared to bind Elladan's chest. "My work is my life, Lord Erestor, as I believe yours is." Her response was factual and crisp. She was not trying to show off in the least and so her voice had the clear ring of truth.

Erestor came out of the storage room and was still shaking his head. Putting the papers in order, he set them on the bed beside her hand and said, "well Lady Helinyetillë, I find them to be well kept not to mention well organized and the storage room in wonderful shape."

"Thank you Lord Erestor. I find it strange that all the other healers seem to be somewhat…intimidated by your presence. You certainly don't seem to be so overbearing," she said as she smiled and tied off Elladan's bandages and pressed around his chest to make sure it was bound tightly. Elladan continued to look perfectly indignant and even when he winced and grimaced in pain.

"You obviously are blind," he uttered in a low mutter that was not wasted on the young maiden.

"You would be wise to shut your mouth Elladan," she snapped aggressively as she straightened up, smoothed out her skirts and picked up the papers before addressing the counselor.

"Actually," Erestor said uneasily. "There was one problem I found, very minor, but important all the same. I think one of your files was incorrectly labeled."

"I am rather occupied now, my lord," Helinyetillë said as she tapped the papers against a tabletop firmly and briskly. "However, if you wish to discuss it later I would be honored since I know your skill in paper work is hardly matched." Her grey-green eyes flashed as she smiled and said, "good-day, my lord."

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances of amusement and shock and Erestor walked stiffly out of the room with a scarlet face.

O0O

Elladan stared at his father with a shocked face as he nearly choked on his honey cake. "You said we could travel to Mirkwood with you!" He protested immediately after swallowing. Elrohir leaned against a pillar, scowling in the corner; a shadow seemed to have fallen on his face. What made him even a little more frustrated than being told he could do something and then being denied was being told he could do something and being denied without real reasons for it.

Elrond didn't answer for a minute, then he choked out in a tense voice, "I have lost your mother and my wife, I am losing my daughter and Estel. I will not lose you both. You are staying here to look after things while I am gone."

Glorfindel rolled his eyes and emitted a small sigh in exasperation before crossing the meager amount of space that lay between him and the door and exiting the room. He was tired of this constant arguing over something so simple. It wasn't that he was cold hearted, but that he knew Elladan and Elrohir were grown and capable of defending themselves. They needed to be allowed to make their own decisions. That and if Elrond wanted Rivendell to remain standing he wouldn’t keep them here while he was absent.

Elrond watched Glorfindel leave before he turned back to Elladan who had pure fury in his eyes. "Ada, Elrohir and I managed to free mother, or we tried and we came out…alive. "

"And that may not happen again," Elrond seethed uncomfortably. "If I lost you my heart would break. …It would kill me." Sighing in his anxiety and sorrow, Elrond mumbled, "Excuse me for a moment."

Walking out quietly, Elrond didn't give a thought to where he was a traveling as long as it was anywhere but where his sons were and the hurtful question of travel.

Finding himself alone in his study, Elrond drew a shaky breath and sat in his most comfortable chair, fingering his quill and wondering how he had come to have such stubborn and frighteningly insane sons. He missed Estel, whom he felt was the one who, actually help to keep them safe. Estel had been the mediator out of all of his sons. If there was a fight, he could usually patch things up. He also gave Elladan and Elrohir a reason to be more rational about their actions and take less risk. But then again they would risk anything to keep the young ranger safe and he would do anything to protect them.

"You can't keep them under your wings forever. This is not the first time we have had this conversation."

Elrond glanced up at the golden-haired Elf-lord before him and considered standing up, but thought better of it. At the moment he felt very weak and he didn't trust his strength. "Glorfindel, my friend, you cannot possibly begin to understand." Elrond's voice sounded so tired and a stab of slight fear entered Glorfindel's heart.

"Mellon nin, I may not know exactly how you feel, but I know how I feel and I love them as though they were my children. I would never wish harm to come to them but if you love someone you have to let them go," Glorfindel said in a soft voice. He sat on the corner of Elrond's desk calmly as he was able but his hands were shaking.

Elrond had lost interest in many things lately, especially song and feasting. He didn't watch sunrises or sunsets anymore and there had been days when he had never left his room, never left his bed. He had always said he was just feeling unusually tired but Glorfindel knew that Elrond's heart was breaking.

He had not even feared for his friend's heart when Celebrian had come back with her wounds and miseries. But now, knowing all Elrond had gone through before and knowing all that he would never want to go through again eh did fear for it. Elrond was danger of dying from a broken heart.

Elrond had always been the strong one and now Glorfindel was truly scared for the survival of Rivendell, which was itself not so tranquil anymore. Elves had been quarreling and orcs had been sighted directly on its borders and moving in closer. The power of Vilya was dying as Elrond faded. If Estel didn't come back Rivendell would cease to exist, as they knew it; it might cease to exist entirely. Glorfindel had even noticed that normally trees that were evergreen were turning a dingy brown and falling to litter the cold ground. It had already begun; Rivendell was failing.

"They are my sons, Glorfindel. I can't just let them go!" Elrond said quietly as a dangerous light came into his eyes.

"You let Estel go," Glorfindel reasoned.

"He chose exile!" Elrond growled. "I would never turn him out!"

"And yet you sent no one to look for him!" Glorfindel seethed back angrily as he felt his temper rising. "It has been two years!"

"Glorfindel, do not accuse me of being a bad father!" Elrond stood up and pointed a shaking finger at the golden-haired Balrog-Slayer. "You didn't exactly volunteer to leave!" The lord of Imladris pointed out accusingly as he slumped back into his chair.

"I didn't exactly know where to look! And, Lord Elrond Peredhil, he is not my son!" Glorfindel's temper was beginning to reach its peak. His blue eyes narrowed into slits of pure wrath. "Your sorrow and lack of action is killing your own people and everyone close to you!" The Gondolin Elf bit out with resentment. "Vilya's power is getting out of your control. Trees are withering and Elves are quarrelling. It has been long since we heard music in the Great Hall."

"Glorfindel, you are going too far!" The raven-haired Elf-lord snapped in his own defense. "I am in control!"

"That's what you like to think! You are broken, Lord Elrond! Broken and you refuse to heal!" Glorfindel's voice was bitter now and his point was made completely clear. "Do not make me drag you to Mirkwood. You need to get out in the open air and see the world around you. It is falling into darkness and Rivendell is one of the last places of safety. You know this as well as I do and you have a responsibility to keep it that way."

"I do not refuse to heal! I am not broken!" he nearly snarled as he felt his guilt biting at his own conscience, causing it to bleed. "I am still well, I am simply tired."

"Because your heart is breaking!" Glorfindel said as he stood up to leave. "I stick by you because you are my friend and I owe you that. But you are tired because your heart is dying and you won’t admit it."

Elrond fell quiet and Glorfindel reached the door. "I will meet you in the stable with your sons, Lord Elrond."

O0O0O0O0O0O

Pain, numbness, darkness, and bright light, all merging into a world of mystery and contorted agony.

Legolas opened his liquid blue orbs and blinked his surroundings into focus. It was dark and for a moment he feared he was in the dreaded box once again. Jerking up he felt nothing above him and below him his shaking and drawn hands clenched the cold smooth stones of the floor. Shifting a bit further, he felt straw gently brush his hands and arms in a fashion he once found irritating and scratchy but that now felt beyond all praise.

Wrinkling his brow in confusion, Legolas asked in a shaking voice, "Estel?" He felt so alone and unsure. Was Estel dead or had it all been a dark dream?

Shivering and trying to rise but found that he was far too weak to even lift himself to his knees. Blood, cold and dried coated his side, crusting it over. Legolas felt his battered abdomen over with a cold hand and found that the damage didn't seem to extend to life threatening…not yet. The knives had definitely been carefully planned to not slice or jab any vital organs. But they still hurt a great deal. As a matter of fact they hurt enough that he wondered if pain itself was a killer…if so he was in mortal danger.

Legolas felt himself reeling and before he could stop himself he fell onto his face. Too tired to rise, the Elf lay on the floor and moaned, "Estel, please, please…where are you?"

He groped in the darkness around him, seeking for his friend's hand. He found it, cold and nearly stiff but as his fingers touched the wrist he detected a small pulse. Aragorn was alive and Legolas felt his spirit's rise slightly though he felt the darkness seem to double and weigh them down. He came to feel what he had been conscious of all along. He was helpless, powerless and weak.

Crawling closer to Aragorn, though his wounds grated against the rough straw and jagged pieces of stone, Legolas set his head by the human's arm and snuggled up against the ranger for comfort; feeling a friend so close. His eyes still felt swollen, just as though he had cried for centuries.

"Estel," Legolas spoke to the still form quietly in a hoarse voice. "This has turned out to be more than I bargained for. I thought that we would different from everyone else. I thought that we would last." Breathing heavily but shallowly in his horrible pain, the defeated Elf whispered, "there was once an Elf and a human, captured by Sauron. Baren, of your bloodline, and his friend Felegund." Swallowing before he continued, Legolas murmured, "they thought they would be strong enough. But in the end, Felegund, the Elf, perished to save the human, his closest friend."

Legolas' hearing had fully returned and he heard the rain pouring down outside this impenetrable fortress in which they were imprisoned. Each drop making its own individual sound as it pattered to the earth, bounced off the harsh stones of the palace and added the puddles of murky water that was flooding the desert country. Sometimes he had remembered his home and the sunshine wondering what it felt like, for his memories were even beginning to fade.

He missed his home so much and at times he wished that he had never left. But what would have happened if he had never left? He would have never been there for Aragorn but the human had been doing fine on his own. Drawing a deep breath that bordered on a sob of loneliness, the prince wondered if he had stayed home if any of this had happened. Maybe Aragorn would have taken a different route and missed the ambush entirely and never been captured. Or perhaps if he were captured they would have no reason to torture him and would have simply used him as a slave. In that case Aragorn would have found a way to escape in time.

Legolas knew it would have been far better if he had listened to his father and stayed home. Now he was truly sorry. His father was not only his father but also his king and he had defied him. Legolas deserved banishment and by their law he should receive it. But that was all right. He was already banished.

Trying to sit up in the dark, Legolas felt something cold and hard touch his hand's palm. Grasping it he winced as it stung his hand, slicing his flesh. It was then he realized they were back in his cell and that was the knife that Dorrag had thrown in to him…for him to kill himself with. Eyes narrowing and brows knitting in anger, Legolas glared in the dimness. He squeezed the blade harder and felt his blood rush over his hand as the knife severed the skin and released the sanguine fluid. But he was not thinking of his death, but of another's. Black anger entered his heart and he had not the strength to stop it. It was the anger that brought him new life and gave him a reason to live. He had to prove Dorrag wrong. He and Estel would make it through this and he would personally drive the blade into the works of that miserable Haradrim prince's heart.

A few moments ago he wouldn't have minded dying, he would have enjoyed it. But now he was determined not to. His hand holding Aragorn's cold one clenched and he whispered, "we are going to get out, mellon nin. I promise you."

He felt one of Aragorn's hands squeeze his faintly and a smile touched Legolas' lips as he smile and said, "that's it. Hold my hand. We shall do this together." Giving a small laugh, Legolas whispered into the night, "miracles happen."

He felt Aragorn stirring and knew that his friend was waking up, or trying. But he was deeply concerned that the ranger's wounds could be too extensive.

Legolas' sharp Elven ears picked up the sound of the strong bolt door slamming shut and the strong noise of booted feet against the cold cobblestones of the path to the cell. A faint torchlight glistened ahead of the men and reflected on the walls in strange and bizarre shadows of light. Legolas felt a panic rise in his heart as he realized that the men were coming back and that it wasn't for any nice reasons.

Running his hand down the blade of the knife until he felt the hilt, Legolas wrapped his fingers around the handle. Letting go of Aragorn's hand with his mangled one, Legolas stood up on his pair of weak legs and then crouched ready to spring. He was not going to let them torture himself or Aragorn again. He was going to fight to the death rather and take a few of the men down with him first.

The men were coming closer and now Legolas could see them clearly in the light of the brand. Brushing aside his blonde hair that was loose and in his face, the Elven prince prepared to sell his life dearly. A hard and resolute look replaced the hopeless and mournful dullness that had shrouded them in mist.

As the soldiers, lead by Sarchel appeared outside his cell door, Legolas held his readied position. The Lieutenant smirked and asked with a scornful voice, "still fighting Elf?"

Legolas made no response and he felt a second strength racing through is body as his adrenaline rushed through his veins. His pain was pushed out of his mind and he glared icily. "Still fighting," the Elf growled out as his hand with the dagger began to grip tighter as sweat slicked his palms. His voice was hoarse and showed all that he had suffered and how much he had been forced to cry out of even scream.

Knowing the risk he was taking and hating to take it, Legolas prepared to attack. He didn't expect to win, his wounds were too extensive and his strength would wane too quickly as his energy drained.

Shrugging Sarchel opened the door and began to allow the soldiers to file in to take the Elf away since obviously the ranger was not going to talking for some time.

That was when Legolas made his move and stabbed swiftly, just as he would have with one of his twin knives. The first soldier fell dead, his throat cut and Legolas glared at Sarchel as he spun the knife between his fingers with amazing precision. He dared the Haradrim officer to try anything else.

"Impressive Elf," Sarchel muttered as he drew his own sword. "But you are weak and we are not." He stepped between his soldiers and the furious Elf that was glaring daggers at any who looked his way, which was more or less everyone.

"Now drop your weapon and hold your hands up," Sarchel commanded. "Or I will tell my men to shoot the ranger. He isn't necessary anymore." The soldiers readied their cross bows and the bolts were aimed at Aragorn's still form that lay in the straw of the cell.

Legolas looked at the men with shock and debated whether or not he possessed the skill or swiftness to kill them before they had a chance to shoot his friend. Decidedly not, he decided grimly. Frowning in the knowledge that he had lost and had accomplished next to nothing other than irritating these men to further want to harm himself and Aragorn, the Elf continued to hold on to the blade. He could not find the strength to drop it.

Putting it to his own throat, the blonde prince said, "if you harm the ranger further I will be lost to you forever. Do not test me." The coldness in the blue eyes showed that Legolas was no the least bit unsure. He was simply serious and not afraid to carry out his threat.

"Please," Sarchel begged wearily as the situation bored and aggravated him and he pointed his sword at Legolas' head, "drop the knife."

"So you can kill Thorongil and torture me?" Legolas asked bitterly. "Why doesn't that appeal to me?" He resisted the urge to jump as he nearly pressed the knife too deeply into the skin of his throat. The last thing that he needed was an accident. The only thing that was keeping him alive was keeping himself needed and alive for the men to try and use.

"Elf, you won't kill yourself. You are too scared," Sarchel taunted as he crept slowly closer.

Legolas laughed coldly, "no, I am not. I am warning you one last time, do not test me." He felt his hands shaking. He wasn't scared, but he was frustrated to near the point of tears.

A smooth voice spoke directly after Legolas' ears picked up the sound of footsteps. "Master Elf, drop the knife. We can talk things out. Lieutenant," he addressed Sarchel crossly. "Lower your sword. The rest of you, remove your crossbows." Prince Dorrag gave Legolas a venomous glare. "You have become more of a troublemaker than I had thought was possible."

"Underestimating you’re your enemies is the worst stroke one can have against themselves," Legolas bit out as he kept the knife at his throat. His eyes locked on Dorrag and the Haradrim prince connected his eyes with the blonde being's.

"So I have learned," Dorrag said calculatingly around a set of heavily grinding teeth. "Please, Elf. I am sure we can reach an agreement."

"I doubt it," Legolas said dryly. He looked nervously at Aragorn lying on the floor to his right.

"Elf, you don't have a choice, because you are never leaving this dungeon alive unless it is on our terms and even then, you won't be alive long."

Darcíl nodded sagely at Dorrag's side before smiling wryly at Legolas. "You know you are losing, so if I were you I would drop that knife and look for help elsewhere."

His voice was a tone that Legolas had never heard come from him before. It was strange and twisted. Legolas stared at Darcíl for a moment as though the man had a second meaning in his words. But unable to detect any Legolas continued to give him a strange stare.

That was the undoing of Legolas' sparse grip on the situation and Dorrag whipped his sword from its sheath at his side, snapping it out at Legolas' face and the knife went spinning into the darkest corner of Legolas' cell with a clatter as it banged against the walls. It made a dull thud as it buried itself in the scanty amount of straw.

Smacking Legolas across face with the flat side of the sword, he knocked the Elf to the ground. Giving a satisfied smirk as he watched Legolas rise slowly, Dorrag said, "Elf, you are lucky I didn't break your filthy little neck. Arrogant fool."

Legolas felt hot blood run into his mouth and tasted its coppery and salty flavor. He stared first only at the ground and then slowly raised a set of cold and livid blue-crystal eyes to glare hauntingly at Dorrag; blood trickling down his chin from his broken lip. "You're the fool," he retorted tensely. His glare turned from Dorrag to settle on Darcíl, who looked perfectly at ease with everything that was transpiring.

"No, Elf. Now I am going to give you seven hours to regain your senses and if you haven't by then, I am going to hand you over to my men to do as like with you as long as the information is dragged from you. And after they have you crawling on the floor like a miserable worm, I sentence you to be put to death by hanging." Smiling he smirked, "have a nice seven hours."

The soldiers all lifted their crossbows and turned, filing out one by one, following their cruel prince. Sarchel walked by Dorrag's side, talking in hushed tones with his lord. Legolas watched them go and he noticed with some satisfaction that they must have felt his eyes on their backs as they left, for the ones in the back went as quickly as possible and glanced over their shoulders nervously.

Smiling slightly, the Elf got up and crawled over to Aragorn, lifting the human from where he was sprawled on the cold ground. "You will catch your death if you lay like that," he chided to the prone ranger as he collected him into his arms and looked at the pale face with a tinge of green in it.

Darcíl stepped forth from the shadows where he had waited for his lord to leave. He walked slowly to the bleak little cell and looked through the bars. His eyes came to rest on the pair of friends and their paled faces; forsaken eyes. He knew that as far as the Elf was concerned they had lost their last chance. He knew that the immortal still possessed quite a fervent fire within him, but it was being quenched slowly by his sorrow and misery. A small frown crossed the captain's face as he spoke to Legolas, "you cannot hold out much longer."

Legolas didn't even look up at the man of Harad as he demanded, "leave us alone." He held Aragorn close and a tear fell from his face to land on Aragorn's waxen one and trickle down the ranger's cheek in a small river. He had failed his best friend and nothing in the world could change that cold fact.

"You will break tomorrow. Nobody has held out longer and you are already too weak to put up a half decent fight." Darcíl pointed out bluntly.

"Why don't you go and attend your feast upstairs celebrating your victory?" asked Legolas bitterly without removing his eyes from Aragorn's face as he ran his hand through the ranger's dark locks mournfully.

"But we haven't obtained victory yet. And anyway, I have no reason to celebrate," he muttered grimly.

Legolas gave him strange look. "You don't?" he asked incredulously. Did this man think he was stupid or not listening? Whatever the case Legolas was more than half tempted to say 'liar'!

"No, I don't," Darcíl said quietly. He looked at the stone floor sadly.

"Indeed?" Legolas snorted. "Why not?"

"Because if you break tomorrow you doom my home and life." Producing a key he opened the cell door and stood before Legolas and narrowed his eyes. "I don't really care about you and whether you are in pain or live or not. I only want to you alive because Dorrag wants you dead. Is that understood?" He kicked Legolas' foot as he spoke.

"Not exactly, but I doubt you will explain anymore," responded the Elf smoothly but with a touch of anger.

"Not at the moment anyway," Darcíl as he looked over his shoulder nervously. His hand went to his sword hilt out of habit. They did not have long and if he didn't move quickly they would be captured and he tried for treason.

"So you are going to help us escape?" Legolas asked without letting the suspicion slide from his voice. His eyes left his ill friend and he glanced up at Darcíl mistrustfully. "Why don't I believe you?"

"Whether you believe me or not it is true. But if we do not hurry we will all be caught." Glancing down at Aragorn he asked swiftly, "Can you carry him?"

"How far?"

"Elf, it doesn't matter. Just, can you?" asked Darcíl again impatiently as he looked over his shoulder a second time. "If you can't I am not afraid to kill him and leave him behind," the Haradrim captain stated anxiously as he expect a troupe of soldiers to be sent down for his arrest at any moment.

Legolas stammered, "yes! I can carry him!" There were no second thoughts needed. He doubted that he would be able to carry Aragorn, he could barely walk himself, but his determination hardened and it fed his strength.

"Good, now get up!" he commanded sternly and turned to leave. When he realized Legolas was not behind him he stopped and turned around with a look akin to anger flashing in his eyes. "What's wrong Elf?" His unsympathetic voice made Legolas' stomach churn as he stood on his weak legs trying hard to carry his own weight and the weight of the unconscious ranger whom he could feel fading.

"I have been through hours upon hours of torture and you ask what is wrong?" the blonde prince seethed as he struggled forward. His blue eyes had a jaded tint in them and it was more than obvious the Elf was strongly feeling the effects of his fatigue.

"Elf I am being generous. I do not need him alive and if he slows you I can easily get rid of him." Legolas clutched Aragorn closer and a mutinous expression came across his face.

"You would be sorry if you tried, human," he managed out around his wheezing that came from the pain that coated his body. He felt like he was going to collapse any moment.

"You are in no position to be making threats!" reminded Darcíl with aggravation.

"We are wasting time!" Legolas spat. "Now are we leaving or not?" A green taint was entering Legolas' face as his stomach turned violently and he felt very ill.

"Get moving and we shall see." Darcíl began to walk towards the dead end of a dark passage. He stopped and turned around to see the trailing Elf giving him a questioning look. It was very nearly laughable and he couldn't blame the immortal really. What he was doing did seem rather stupid. "There is a trap door," he explained briefly and then let his actions speak for him.

A slight grating sound was heard as Darcíl put his strength into sliding a large stone slab away from the gapping hole that shown beneath it. A dank, stale odor came up and it did nothing to help Legolas' ill stomach. The thought of traveling down there, in the dark, it not please the Elf very much. Estel was not awake and this man could not possibly understand his fear or even care if he did.

Willing himself not to tremble, the Elf asked, "So are you coming with us?" Legolas shifted Aragorn's weight in his arms.

"I can't. If I disappear they will get suspicious and you shall not get far," Darcíl answered quickly as he motioned for the blonde being to get into the hole. He then showed the knife that had been in Legolas' cell and waved it before Legolas' face before he slipped it into the prince's boot since it was obvious the Elf's arms were full.

Legolas was hesitant. "Where does this lead?" The last thing he wanted was a trap or to get caught by some men and slain cruelly. He had to get Estel home. Something told him that nearly everything depended on it. And he didn't want to run in there, headless of dangers.

Darcíl answered gravely. "This leads to the village where my family lives. The people more than abhor the royal family and will provide your companion with aid. You, however, I am not sure about. But you must travel in the tunnel for at least three days without rest if you wish to get a head start before they realize where you are." Legolas gave him a reluctant look and Darcíl said, "You cannot use a torch. You must travel in the dark. A light could give you away and the fire would eat the oxygen. You have nothing to fear when it comes to turns and passages, however, the path is straight and narrow. Getting lost is not an option. When you reach the end, extend your arm upwards and you will feel a hand. Pull down on it and the door will open. You will be on the outskirts of the town."

"Well that sounds…encouraging," Legolas said wryly and with a twisted, grim smile. "Although I don't know whether I should be grateful to you for getting us out or angry with you for using us." He would have shrugged had he not been bearing Aragorn.

"There is not time for you to chose," Darcíl reminded gravely. "You must hurry or we are all three dead. Remember I would kill you on a battlefield and not think twice."

"Remember that feeling is mutual," Legolas responded irritably. The Elf extended one foot to set on the first stone step into darkness.

Ω

Thunder rumbled and Glorfindel shook his head sadly as he watched the sky illuminate with lightning that jetted across the sky in bright streaks. Thunderstorms were nearly unheard of in Rivendell, but not since Estel had left. Elrond's strength to wield Vilya was fading and the ring's powers were taking over as it took advantage of the fact that no one was governing it. The thing that disturbed Glorfindel the worst was that Elrond seemed to be blind to everything around him. Sighing the Gondolin Elf pulled up his hood and looked over Asfaloth at Erestor, reading the grave concern written all over the counselor's contorted face. "His strength is waning," Glorfindel muttered nervously.

"Obviously," Erestor affirmed the statement. He looked above and nearly winced as a loud clap of thunder split the air and pounded in their ears. "If this continues much longer I shall go mad."

"It’s a little late for that," Glorfindel commented as he stroked the white horse's silvery mane and ran his hand down the sleek neck. The creature nuzzled him affectionately.

Erestor laughed wryly and said, "You would think so, wouldn't you?" He patted Asfaloth's haunches and spoke quietly, "bring Estel back. I fear for the survival of our home. If the rain continues much longer than the waters shall rise and who knows what shall happen if the River Bruinen is let free."

"I shall do my best, for what it is worth," Glorfindel assured grimly, straightening his saddlebags to rest easier on the animal's back and sides.

"Keep Elrond safe," Erestor said solemnly as his grey eyes connected with Glorfindel's blue ones that had become very pale blue with unrest.

"Indeed," the Gondolin Elf smiled and shook his head. "Though I have to put up with Elladan and Elrohir, so in a way I have an excuse if something goes wrong."

"Glorfindel," Erestor chuckled, "you are a living excuse."

"You wound me-" A low rumble that suddenly pitched to a loud and threatening roar made both of the Elves jump and then turn red with shame.

"Relax. Its only thunder," Elrohir called as he strode in, carrying his saddlebags as Elladan walked slowly behind, obviously lost in thought. Elrohir glanced nervously at the barn walls and out the window. He was quiet for a moment and then said, "I wonder if it is storming like this anywhere else. It is most curious weather for this place. Where's father?"

"He is coming," Elladan said as he set his bags on the floor outside his chestnut stallion's stall. "He is leaving Erestor notes and plans." A raindrop struck the older twin's head as it fell from a crack in the ceiling rafters. He looked up and gave a small frown. "There are times when I think Vilya destroys more than it saves."

"Be careful when you say something like that, Elladan," advised Erestor glumly. "Without it Rivendell would not exist." He shook his head and Glorfindel rolled his eyes as he made sure the straps on Asfaloth's harness were fitted well. Finding they were not he tightened one as he cast a scolding glare at Elladan.

"It is because father is fading, just like mother." For a moment Elladan felt a stab of anger towards Aragorn and his actions before he remembered Aragorn had very little control over war. But he wished he could find something to blame his father's lapse on and it hurt that he could not. He felt a great deal of responsibility had been placed on his shoulders and he also felt he might buckle beneath it. It also burned in his heart, seared his heart actually, to know that the person he admired most was struggling immensely not to fail him and coming close to losing.

"I think he is going to be fine," Glorfindel tried to encourage those around him.

"Glorfindel, it would be better if you would just be quiet!" Elladan snapped. Erestor shot Elladan a disapproving look and then sighed.

"I think I should take my leave. I have things to see to I am sure." He cleared his throat and stepped past Glorfindel and walked past the twins before exiting the stable in what could be called a disquieted and uncomfortable fashion.

Glorfindel leaped up on Asfaloth's back and rode out after the raven-haired counselor. "Erestor! Wait!" he called through the rain. He didn't expect Erestor to actually hold up so the next few moments were a bit of a exceptional surprise that he felt was commendable on Erestor's part.

The dark-haired Elf halted and turned around and watched as Glorfindel rode up alongside of him. "Be careful. The more Vilya's power gets loosed, the more dangerous things could get. We do not know what it will do if it is allowed to have control over itself."

"I know. What do you take me for?" asked the dark-haired adviser with a scowl. Glorfindel clearly thought that he was an idiot. Not that this was anything Erestor didn't know, but it still wore upon his already wearing nerves that Glorfindel treated him like one without thinking twice. Oh, maybe in the back of his mind Glorfindel didn't think he was entirely stupid, but he did an excellent job of keeping it a secret. Erestor was certain it was one of the most carefully guarded secrets of Rivendell, if you disregarded the Elven rings and Narsil.

"I just am saying I don't want you to get killed. Then I would have no one to annoy and tease when I am bored," the Balrog-Slayer complained, but he could not completely erase the worry on his knitted brow.

"Killed? Unlikely," Erestor passed off Glorfindel's warning as mere over kill on the account of his anxiousness. "Elrond would surely come in control of the ring before it claimed Rivendell and destroyed it." He could not truly believe Elrond would allow Rivendell to fall into complete chaos and decay. It just wasn't something he ever had dreamt would happen and not something he had ever thought of even once before. But in the back of his bind there was a slight doubt that his friend and lord could fully control Vilya in his mental state right now.

"One would hope, but Elrond has not yet been tested against Vilya once it has been unleashed," Glorfindel cautioned once more. "I am just telling you to be careful." He sighed heavily and looked at the pummel of his saddle gloomily. Finally he mumbled what was pure and unaltered honesty. "I don't want to lose you, my friend."

Erestor didn't do what was expected. He frowned for a moment and then looked up at Glorfindel and nodded quite seriously, "and I don't want to lose you. Be careful and watch your back, all right? Dol Guldur is growing more bold." A clap of thunder broke through and the rain came down in redoubled drops that soaked the two friends saying farewell in the midst of the storm.

"Now you had better get indoors, Lord Erestor," Glorfindel jested lightly, though it came out more serious than it was meant to. "Wouldn't want to look like a wet mop."

"I am no Elfling. I can stay outdoors if I wish," Erestor protested but a smile was playing on his lips as he spoke. He chuckled and said as he looked beyond Glorfindel to the stable entrance where two cloaked figures were emerging. "It looks as though your wanton subservients are ready to depart."

Glorfindel wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. "They are always ready to depart for somewhere." Erestor only nodded mutely in agreement.

Another figure approached from behind the dark-haired counselor through the mist that was rising through the falling rain. Lightening licked across the dull, cold sky and if one listened closely they could hear a cry of dismay from the Elves as they plead for the stars to return. A sage cloaked figure rode a shadowy grey horse. His shoulders were hunched and he didn't look at all the proud Elf-lord everybody knew he was.

Glorfindel cast Erestor an alarmed and sorrowful look, which was equally returned by the adviser after he spun around to see the Lord of Imladris. Of course chances were that things looked worse than they actually were. But still, Erestor could hardly say that things were going reasonably well either.

"Are we ready?" asked a voice beneath the cloak and Glorfindel looked into a pair of near dead eyes. It made his heart clench but he said nothing of it and merely inclined his head in coherence. The twins trotted their chestnut and roan horses to stand beside their father's stallion.

"We are not-"

"-Glorfindel's obligation." Finished Elrohir for Elladan as he scowled at the counselor, who rolled his eyes and began to head up to the Last Homely House. He wasn't going to get anymore involved than he had.

"Indeed!" Elladan snorted disdainfully. "I think we are old enough to think for ourselves and look out for ourselves as well!"

Erestor continued walking, obviously thinking to protests of the twins hardly worth the effort it would take to quiet them. 'Look out for themselves?' he asked himself with an inward snicker that quickly escalated to a fair amount of roaring laughter as the absurdity of the statement struck him. He shook his head wearily as he heard them calling after him. Climbing the stairs that lead to a balcony he quickly ascended to the top and turned to look out at his departing friends. Four figures riding out of Rivendell through the muck and mud, he frowned quietly.

Lightening lit up the entire sky in its bright purple flare followed by a loud clap of thunder that pounded in his ears. Looking up at the forlorn sky where the stars used to dwell, he felt his heart sigh. All Elves have a deep emotional passion for the stars and sing to them quite frequently. But there was no music in Rivendell anymore, not since the stars had left.

A wind picked up, whipping his dark hair about his face and he watched as some dead leaves were ripped from a tree nearby and danced in the cold air until they settled on the browning grass. He noticed as though for the first time how Rivendell was fading…was dying. Soon, it would be gone. That was unless Elrond came out of his depression. Erestor knew that his lord and friend's deep sorrow was affecting the mood of Vilya and only if Elrond pulled out of his misery would Rivendell recuperate.

That was of course, unless someone else found the strength to wield Vilya. Elladan and Elrohir might, if they knew the full extent of its power and were fully mature. But even then it would take years for them to rebuild Rivendell…years it did not have.

Sighing, Erestor spun around and noticed Helinyetillë standing there, holding her papers and giving him a strange look. "Lord Erestor, are you well?"

"Just a bit overwhelmed, my good Healer," he conceded sorrowfully. "But I shall be fine." He looked into her eyes and then instantly looked at the floor as she scowled.

"Even for all your diplomacy you are a terrible liar." Her voice was slightly hard and she walked leisurely up beside him and pressed her stack of papers into his hands whilst casting him an evil glare. "Whatisthematterwiththem?"

Erestor smiled wryly and then shivered without warning as he felt the nip of the cold for the first time in a long time. "Would you like to go inside and talk about it?" he asked, though in his ears the question sounded entirely stupid and he felt blood rushing to his face. Willing it to remain normally colored, he looked at her decided face.

"Are you cold, Lord Erestor?" she asked as he raised on slender eyebrow and looked him in the eye. Lightning flashed and it reflected in her grey orbs. The counselor thought this to be rather ironic.

"Not really, I just thought it might be good if we both got in out of the rain," he reasoned with her as he attempted to sidestep her all at once.

She stopped him and if anything her scathing glare deepened. "There is an overhang and neither of us are getting wet. Just tell me what you think is the matter." The wind picked up and more dead, brown, crinkling leaves were torn from the trees' branches.

Erestor finally gave in and pulled a paper halfway from the stack and read aloud the title at the top. "Herbal stock." Frowning he pointed out helpfully, "all you have written on here is our supply of Athelas."

Helinyetillë had a ready counter and she whipped her hair behind her shoulders as she spoke. "We only have Athelas at the moment. The plants in Rivendell are withering, save the Athelas and we are having trouble replenishing our diminishing supplies. However, it is 'herbal stock' and I can add to this file later." She frowned and asked bluntly, much to Erestor's humiliation. "Are you telling me all this just for an excuse to talk some more with me?" A loud boom of thunder followed by littler rumbles of discontent echoed in the air before Erestor could find the courage to speak.

"Business is business." Erestor's voice was firm and his gaze hardened.

"And what exactly is your business?" she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes into silver slits of suspicion. Erestor felt slight flushes enter his cheeks but he narrowed his eyes and knitted his brows to compensate.

"None of yours," he retorted heatedly with embarrassment.

"If you wanted to talk with me, you could have simply asked, you know. But it isn't going to change anything," she added crossly as she snatched her papers from his hands rudely. Casting an unpleasantly conspicuous glance at him she asked quickly, "don't you have some papers to shuffle?"

Erestor looked slightly crestfallen and if the feeling like his chest was being ripped apart was a symptom of a broken heart then he definitely had one. He wanted to sigh, but he had more dignity than that. Helinyetillë saw his saddened face and feeling slightly sorry for him she tucked the papers on her arm and her eyes softened. "Erestor, you aren't unkind or over bearing or anything. But you are just not over bearing enough, and there is the problem. You aren't orderly enough for me. I am sorry. But how about us being simply friends?"

"A friend would be nice," Erestor said as he forced a saddened smile. The winds changed and a shower of rain suddenly cascaded in on them both and thunder clapped several times all at once. Erestor just couldn't believe that he wasn't organized enough! Valar he always had his paperwork filed, labeled and disposed of correctly and on time.

"Very well, then. Friend Erestor, I will see you around then, alright?" she said as she turned and walked briskly away. Erestor turned his face to where he had seen Elrond, the twin sand Glorfindel depart. His sharp eyes saw them at a distance and his face became troubled as he realized the full responsibility of what had fallen on his shoulders.

Feeling miserable and very much alone, Erestor didn't go inside as he felt the rain beat against his face. He wished Glorfindel or someone were here. Even the stars were missing. He wanted someone to truly talk to and there was no one here. As he watched the trees, he saw more leaves tear from the swaying branches and he took note to how the streams no longer tinkled music but roared with the voice of destruction as they flooded their banks. Rivendell couldn't last much longer.

O0O0O0O0O0O

Legolas grimaced as he set his foot down for near the hundredth time as he walked in the dark shaft. The air was close and it was nearly cold. His body was trembling as much from fear as from weariness. His torments were quickly catching up and he staggered, nearly dropping Aragorn. He should have known this was a stupid thing to do even if it was the best thing.

The Elf had found that it was increasingly harder for him to breathe as though a great weight was on his chest. His face so pale it was nearly luminescent in the darkness of the tunnel. Sweat dripped from his brow into his eyes and his hair hung in his face, clinging to his sticky skin. His tongue was swollen and it was ironic that though there was water everywhere, there was nothing that he could drink. He did not trust this water and had no intention of drinking it unless he had to. Even if it was safe, which he was highly skeptical of, it was completely disgusting and unappetizing to say the least.

Licking his cracked lips Legolas thought how he was going to strangle Darcíl for this. Oh, he was grateful for getting out, but he was having an extremely hard time keeping himself and Estel alive. He had been down here for hours and he doubted that he had made much progress at all. If he had, he certainly hadn't noticed. It felt as though he was going in circles and all the dark was weighting him down. 'And' he told himself. 'Caves are not this creepy. Not to mention there is always a cursed stone directly in my path and unknown to me until I stumble over it!'

Legolas could feel Aragorn's life returning as the cool air caressed his hot body and the strange peace in the darkness began to heal his tormented mind. He was returning and Legolas felt his own hopes rising bit by bit. But that didn't mean that his wounds were any less painful or less difficult and weakening. He was simply not going to be able to carry on much longer. He had been bleeding far too much.

Stumbling on a rock submerged beneath the icy water, Legolas finally fell to his knees and he was unable to rise. 'There is another stone, how perfectly inconvenient,' he muttered mentally. His strength had simply given out and he tried to hold Aragorn above the frigid water, but his arms trembled and it was impossible. All he could do was keep the ranger's waist and above free from the dirty liquid. "Estel, I am so sorry I…that…this happened to you. I wanted to save you and I have killed you." The Elf let his tears fall upon his friend's chalky face. 'I was a fool to think this might have been an escape.'

He sobbed. It was his fault entirely. Shivering in fear of the dark the Elf plead to the ranger, "please don't leave me, Aragorn. You know I can't stand the dark." His plea had the resemblance of a cry torn from one's throat, for Legolas' dry mouth and dehydrated body prevented him from speaking well.

Legolas didn't know what he was going to do if he saw Darcíl again, but he didn't worry too much about it. He knew that the Haradrim captain had sent them to their deaths and he knew that it had been done knowingly. Darcíl truly didn't care whether they lived or died; he just needed them gone to suit his own purpose. They would die in his cavern. Legolas was sure that if he wasn't blinded by the thick dark then he would have been blinded by a spell of red as he thought of where they had been sent to and for what purpose.

Glancing about himself, though he could see nothing, Legolas sighed wearily and pulled Aragorn closer. He smiled thinly. "Well if I have anything to do about it you shall see your beloved Arwen again. And you shall see Lord Elrond and Dan and Ro. I may not return, but you shall. But you must forgive me, because I need to rest." Legolas plead for his unconscious friend's understanding as he leaned back against the wet and cold stone wall of the passage. He truly was beginning to loathe this duct.

Legolas closed his eyes and tried to pull the memories of his home forward. He missed dear Rothinzil and little Ilwë and Teleprion. He wanted to see his father so much that it was ripping a large hole in his heart that he knew could be fatal. The Elf drew in a labored breath and smiled as he thought of the starlight on the trees of Lorien at a distance. He had longed to go there someday and see the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Aragorn had told him such beautiful things about it and he had hoped that one day he and Aragorn would travel there and stay a while, together and explore its fair forests. But he supposed that wouldn't happen now.

He suddenly heard a hoarse voice say, "Legolas?" Jolting awake, the prince looked down at his friend and his throat leaped into his heart as he found it was possible that Aragorn was alive and with him. Suddenly he felt that he might not be so alone. "There is nothing…to forgive. …Rest mellon nin."

But now that Legolas knew that Aragorn was awake he could not rest and he asked in a stammer that would have been indignant but he was far too happy, "how long have you been awake?" He was hardly able to contain his excitement, like a child knowing he has just received the greatest gift he could ever get.

"I come…and go…" Aragorn sighed and shivered. "W-w-w-where…are we?" Legolas pulled Aragorn close, trying to share his body heat with the ranger who he could tell was absolutely miserable and losing his body heat at a rapid rate.

"The good captain Darcíl has helped us to our deaths inside this tunnel that supposedly leads to a safe village," Legolas answered incisively. "I bet there is no safe village," he assumed pessimistically. He really was beginning to build such fond memories of Harad. Perhaps he would return here for a vacation someday and have dinner with Dorrag himself! Yes, that sounded perfectly insane!

"Still so optimistic," teased the ranger around his chattering teeth.

"Well what do you expect, ranger? That I am going to say I love this place, this miserable death we have been sent to?" he hissed darkly as his cynical eyes closed in weariness.

"No." There was a dead silence that followed, broken by the sound of Aragorn's teeth resuming their chattering. "Why is it so wet?"

"The rains have flooded the inside of the duct, obviously," stated the Elf with bitter realism. He looked around and now that he was relaxing he could hear things more clearly. Drip...drip…drip…the water was creeping from the walls, creeping, creeping… dripping…dripping… The minute droplets of water were heavily grating on his nerves. But perhaps he was just turning paranoid. No, he amended, he was being paranoid.

"You really are feeling particularly cynical today, aren't you?" Aragorn mumbled as he tried in vain to smile. But his face hurt and for some odd reason he didn't seem to remember now.

Legolas's frown deepened and he said darkly and rather flatly, "you could say that." Shifting his weight he growled, "and if I could get you warmer I would, so don’t you dare complain."

"Legolas, I'm not going to complain. I know you are doing your best-"

"Which is simply not good enough." Legolas wanted to bury his face in his hands and he leaned his head back against the wall in weary despair at their dark situation. Well, dark by all standards if you really thought about it. Now he knew that he was going completely insane…

"Legolas, it is good enough. I am still alive and I know that you had some part in that, don't tell me you didn't. I owe a lot to you," Aragorn said as he searched for his friend's thin and damaged hand beneath the water. He found it, against his battered ribs, supporting him so he was not sinking deep beneath the murky surface. Placing his hand over the Elf's he said reassuringly, "there is an end to every tunnel."

"But not always a light," Legolas continued to be pessimistic and it was beginning to make Aragorn angry. He knew he shouldn't expect too much cheerfulness and hope from the immortal but he didn't think he would be this downright apathetic and sour about things! Legolas had surpassed his own record for stubbornness and dismal brooding once again. Typical.

"Legolas, there is always a light because once the tunnel has reached its end there is an outside world with light and the sun can shine through-"

"Unless outside it is night." Legolas cocked an eyebrow and looked at Aragorn to see if his point was made. Which he quickly came to realize once more than it was dark and in fact, that had not helped at all. If they didn't get out of the this darkness and see a single beam of true light very soon Legolas was certain that he would either go crazy or simply die. Between the two deplorable choices it was a draw.

But Legolas' comment had the desired effect as the ranger realized what the Elf had known all along. The tunnel was not going to be the end, unfortunately. There was going to be trouble to follow as usual. All Aragorn could do was knit his brow and mutter nearly inaudibly " we really put our foot in it this time."

Legolas smiled thinly in wry agreement. "Indeed." He then cast a small frown and said, "but the mire we found is a bit deeper and stronger than usual." He really was becoming quite pessimistic, which was an odd talent to possess (if it could be called a talent). But he really was having extreme difficulties seeing a light at the end of this tunnel or anything that resembled even a distant form of optimism. He was interrupted as he tried to figure whether this trait came from his mother's side or his father's side.

"Legolas, it will all turn out well," Aragorn encouraged as he tried to sit up and found that Legolas not about to allow him to do such a thing. "I can sit up on my own, Elf." He tried without success to shrug Legolas from him but once again Legolas proved to be perfectly adamant and unchangeable. The Elf tightened his grip instinctually as he felt Aragorn squirm in his grip.

"Ranger, you're in no state to be even trying or thinking about such a thing," the prince chided in his mother-henish voice that always made Aragorn chuckle.

"I am not a ranger only. I am a captain. I could have you beaten for lack of respect!" Aragorn teased lightly as Legolas smiled down at him in the dark. He felt the Elf shake slightly with a chuckle that appeared to be genuine.

"Yes, you could do that," mused the Elf in a mocking voice. "However, it is too bad that we are locked in this tunnel and my father would have your head." A drop of water fell from the ceiling and hit Legolas on his nose, causing the blonde being to briskly shake his head in annoyance and surprise. Why did they have to be trapped in this cave like place filled with water? His clothes…what was left of them…were sopping and he actually was beginning to feel chilled. It was disconcerting and he wrinkled his nose in annoyance as much as in confusion. That little tiny spike of immense uneasiness was slowly mounting in his heart and sitting still was gradually becoming a challenge as he felt himself becoming more and more uneasy.

"Your father might ask if he could do the honors," retorted Aragorn with a cheeky grin that he never thought he would be using again. However, Legolas had ways of disproving every assessment he made. Know it all Wood-Elf!

"You are probably right," Legolas admitted dryly before he gave a small chuckle. His voice then dropped to a sorrowful state and he muttered, "he probably has disowned me by now though." The brazen grin fell from the human's face as he heard his friend's words. Normally Legolas saying that he was right about anything would have been an invitation for merciless bantering between the two of them.

Aragorn noted the heartache in Legolas' voice and his back went rigid in alarm. He felt Legolas going taut as he grimaced in pain and distress. Glancing up at his friend though he couldn’t see him in the dark, he said, "No. Legolas your father does love you and I bet he is hoping that you will return."

"Human, I was slightly exaggerating on purpose. But all the same, I know he is furious with me," the prince added in a crestfallen tone that ate away at Aragorn's heart. He knew that Legolas' father was all he really had left and that if they were separated forever they would both die. "Ah, well, I suppose I will never find out how things are going back home so I might as well not trouble myself about that."

Aragorn didn't say anything, not quite knowing what words would be best. He was very much afraid of causing more hurt to his friend or planting a false hope in Legolas' sensitive Elven heart. Instead, he just sighed, much to his ribs displeasure and protest. Feeling too weak to stay awake much, longer, he yawned and before he spoke again. "We should be traveling further if we wish to make good time."

"Aragorn, I am carrying you because you are far too weak to walk on your own. I myself am not in the best of conditions. We are going to go at the pace I chose and right now, I am worried for your health…"

"And you are tired," Aragorn broke in, waiting to see Legolas' immediate reaction, which he expected to be furious. But what he heard only increased his anxiety for Legolas' well being. This was the first time Legolas was allowing his weakness to show without regret or hesitation, he was actually being adamant. He was willing admitting he was weakened.

"I am," the Elf agreed glumly. Legolas was about to try and rest when a screeching noise went up, causing both of the friends to nearly jump in alarm. Something swooped by Legolas' face, causing the Elf to lurch his head backwards and hit it slightly against the stone wall before he stopped himself. Wincing at the feeling of the stone's impact, the Elf scolded himself under his breath for being so stupid. Things would be swirling and dancing, Legolas told himself, if he could actually see.

Wings fluttered by his face and some more high-pitched noise rang in the prince's ears. It was a strange squeaking that Legolas had only heard once before, in caves. "Why did it have to be bats?" moaned the Elf in irritation and slight fear. He didn't fear bats but it