First Meetings

Author's Note:  This story does make small references to my other story "The Beginning" which is posted on Fanfiction.Net (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1678435) but you should be able to read this one by itself.

Disclaimer:  Tolkien's work, not mine

“Speech”

// Thought//

Chapter 1

Streams of light filtered through the trees in the former realm of Greenwood the Great, illuminating the forest floor and surrounding areas.  It was a typical day in the forest of Mirkwood, and Elves everywhere were going about their daily business in the courtyard of the palace.  Such was the sight that greeted Legolas Thrandulion as he led his patrol back home.  The party had been on an extended scouting mission in southern Mirkwood, investigating the activities around Dol Guldur, and after six months they were finally returning home.

Legolas sighed with relief as the palace finally came into view.  He was bruised, battered and bloody from his latest skirmish with the orcs, and all he really wanted was a nice bath and a soft bed. He knew, however, that that would not be possible.  As a Captain and Prince, it was his duty to immediately report to the King what they had observed.  He sighed again, dismounted, and grudgingly made his way to the throne room.

As he drew near the throne room, one of the guards announced his presence.  “Your majesty, Prince Legolas has returned and requests an audience.”

King Thranduil nodded, bidding his son enter.

“Greetings adar, I have much to report about my findings.”  Legolas took a deep breath and began to tell his father everything they had observed.  “...Dol Guldur stirs. Activity has increased significantly; there are orcs and wargs everywhere, including close to the palace—in fact, we ran into a troop not far from here.  They are becoming very daring and aggressive. I fear an attack on the palace may be imminent.”

“That is grave news indeed.  Something must be done or we may be overcome.  What do you propose we do about this rising threat?” Thranduil asked, alarmed by these tidings.

“Increase the number of guards on duty and station patrols around the villages, especially in the more inhabited regions.  We cannot allow those ruthless creatures to kill the innocent women and children of our land,” Legolas replied.

Thranduil sat, contemplating all that he had heard.  “You are correct, but I fear we may have to go beyond that.  The palace is vulnerable.  As much as we like to think we are safe here, we are not as safe as we could be.  Mayhap I should order the reconstruction of the caves; they offer much more protection than we have above ground.”

Legolas shuddered at the thought of having to go into those caves again.  He had not set foot in them for over 2,000 years—not since he had been caught in a cave-in as a child.  He swallowed and replied, “It is your choice ada.”

Thranduil paused for a moment before answering.  “I’ll need to contemplate it before making a decision.  Thank you Legolas, now go see the healer, you look terrible.”

Legolas smiled.  “As you wish, ada.”  He turned to leave, the only thing on his mind being a bath.  He had gotten over his fear of healers that he had developed as a child after seeing his naneth being brought to them but still dying because of her wounds.  He had been convinced they had killed her and were going to kill him.  As he got older he finally being able to see the logic in what his father had been saying about how healers did not kill their patients but were sometimes just unable to save them, but even though he was no longer afraid, it didn’t mean that he liked them; old habits, it seems, die hard.

“Oh, Legolas,” called Thranduil.  The Prince turned round to face his father again. “Enjoy your bath.”  Legolas smiled even wider; it was scary how well his father knew him.

*~*~*~*~*

Once he had finally scrubbed off all the grime and blood, Legolas reluctantly got out of the tub.  Now that he was clean, all he wanted to do was sleep for a long time. Unfortunately, he knew he was would be expected at dinner.  He slowly dressed and made his way to the dinning hall, where he was surprised to see all of his brothers.  Usually at least one member of the royal family was out on patrol or was occupied by some business or another, but not tonight—tonight everyone was sitting at the table waiting for him.

“There he is!” exclaimed Andunëdil. “We were just about to send out a search party for you brother.” Andunëdil was King Thranduil’s middle son. He was older than Legolas by about 500 years and was constantly teaming up with Orodan, Thranduil’s fourth son, against their youngest brother.  Andunëdil and Orodan were born extremely close in age, for elves that is, being only 30 years apart.  They were constantly together, whether around the palace or on patrol, and were usually causing trouble or playing pranks whenever they went.  Legolas liked them because they always seemed to keep any situation upbeat and amusing and were constantly able to charm their way out of trouble, even though they had, on more than one occasion, left him to take the blame.

“Sorry I’m late,” he mumbled as he took his seat at the table.

“No need to apologize ion nin, we know you just got back and would probably like to be in bed rather than here, so let’s hurry and eat,” said King Thranduil as he motioned to the servants.

Once Legolas had taken his seat the servants began to bring out the food.  He sat there quietly, barely eating anything, while everyone around him chatted away.  Occasionally someone would ask him a question and he would mumble out an answer before returning to his prodding of the food on his plate.  Finally, after what seemed like hours to him, Legolas could take no more.  He politely excused himself and left for bed, leaving a very confused family behind.

“What’s gotten into him?” asked Orodan, after Legolas had left. “He barely said two words tonight. I remember a time when we couldn’t get him to shut up; now we can’t get a full sentence out of him.”

“He’s probably just tired—after all, he did just return from a long patrol.  I’m sure once he gets some rest he’ll be back to his normal, cheery, talkative self,” said Andunëdil.

“I’m not so sure,” replied Tildur.  “I’ve noticed that his mood has become more sullen these past few years.  I do not think a simple good nights’ sleep will cure it.  It seems to me that as the darkness grows, Legolas becomes more sullen and oppressed.  I really think he needs a break, and I’m not talking about a break from patrolling. No, I believe that he needs to get out of Mirkwood for a while and go to some place where he doesn’t always have to worry about darkness creeping around the corner; some place like Lorien or Imladris.”

Tildur was Thranduil’s second son and Legolas’ favourite brother.  Tildur preferred reading and studying over fighting, although he was a more than capable warrior, and could usually be found in some corner of the library poring over an ancient tome.  He was always willing to lend an ear and was usually good about giving advice.

“I agree with Tildur.  Remember how he used to visit Imladris every few years, and when he got home he was always happier, more cheerful.  I think that is exactly what he needs right now,” said Crown Prince Aerandir.  Legolas wasn’t as close to Aerandir as he would have liked to have been.  Aerandir was over 1000 years older than Legolas and as crown prince and army commander he was often too busy to talk to; plus, on top of all that he had a wife and young son and so most of his free time was spent with them. 

Legolas had always seen Aerandir as his protector.  Some of his earliest memories involved his oldest brother moving sharp objects out of his reach or carefully helping him down from a tree when he had climbed too high.  At the time it had seemed annoying but now that he could reflect back on it, he was sure his brother had saved him from impaling himself with some sharp object on more than one occasion, not to mention all the times he had rescued him from Andunëdil and Orodan.  As much as Legolas wished he and his eldest brother were closer, he would not want to give up the protector/protected relationship they had now, no matter how annoying it got at times.

“The problem is, he doesn’t seem to want to visit Rivendell anymore.  Every since he met the twins he has either traveled there or they have come here every few years.  I don’t think they ever let five years go without seeing each other. Now it’s been about thirty since his last visit,” remarked Tildur.

“I remember that!” exclaimed Orodan, “when he came home he was very depressed; I thought that quite unusual.  Something happened on that trip but he refuses to talk about it and I gave up trying to figure it out long ago.”

“So you all agree: I should send him off somewhere?” asked the King; everyone nodded.  “All right, I will talk to him.”

TBC...

Elvish Translations

Adar/Ada = Father/ Dad or daddy

Naneth = Mother

Ion nin = My son

First Meetings

“Speech”

// Thought//

Chapter 2

When Legolas awoke it was already late in the morning.  He quickly dressed and headed off in search of some food. Breakfast had been served long before, so he was forced to scavenge in the kitchens.  Once he had eaten, he was planning on heading down to the archery field, but as he was collecting his bow and arrows, one of his father’s servants approached him.  “Prince Legolas, your father requests your presence in his study as soon as you are able.”

“Thank you, I shall go there now.”

The servant bowed and then left.  Dropping his bow, Legolas swiftly walked down the corridors to his father’s study wondering why he was being summoned.  Once he arrived, he knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter.  “Come in,” Thranduil’s voice sounded odd, as if he had something on his mind.

Legolas opened the door and slipped inside.  The sun was shinning in through the giant bay windows at the far side of the room, casting light onto the many scrolls and pieces of parchment that littered his father’s desk.  A small fire cackled merrily in a wonderfully designed fire place providing the room with a homely feel.  Legolas’ mind flashed back to the many hours he had spent sitting on the floor before the hearth playing with his wooden toy soldiers.  Slowly his eyes moved from the fire to where his father was sitting behind his desk.  “You wanted to see me, ada?”

“Yes Legolas, please come in and sit down.”  Legolas sat in front of his father’s desk in one of the straight-backed leather chairs.  “My son, it has come to my attention that you have been rather down lately.”  Legolas opened his mouth to disagree but his father simply raised his hand.  “I know you would say you are fine, but your brothers and I disagree.  You have been going from patrol to patrol almost continuously for some time now and I believe you need a break.  We have all agreed that you need some time away from Mirkwood; it would really do you some good.  Why don’t you go visit the twins in Imladris? I’m sure they would be happy to see you again.”

“No, I don’t think so. Things aren’t ideal around here; I should really go out on patrol again.  You need all the warriors you can get,” Legolas replied, obviously uneasy. He squirmed in his chair a bit before straightening again.

“Legolas, why must you do things the hard way?  Here are your options: you can either volunteer to go to Imladris or I can place an order forbidding you to join a patrol, and then send you away with a troop of royal guards who will escort you to Imladris as they did when you were still an Elfling.  Which shall it be?”

The young prince sighed.  “I do not wish to intrude on Lord Elrond’s household.”

“Does this have something to do with your last visit?  Why will you not tell anyone what happened?  You used to love going there.”

“Things change.”

“I have already written a message to Lord Elrond informing him of your visit.  The messenger left last night and will be riding hard, so you will not be able to stop him.  Lord Elrond will be expecting you to arrive and may get worried if you do not show up.” Thranduil presented his winning card, arching one blond eyebrow at his son. Legolas appeared horrified.

“Oh ada how could you have done that!  Lord Elrond will not be happy to see me there, I can guarantee you that.”

“Regardless of whether he will be happy or not, you will be going.  I am doing this for your health Legolas, not to punish you, now which option do you choose?”

Legolas sighed clearly defeated. “I will not be lead to Imladris like an Elfling.”

“Good, I was hoping you would volunteer,” said Thranduil in a cheery tone.  “Now go get packed, you still have many hours of daylight ahead of you if you leave now.”  Legolas stood to leave, a grim expression on his face.  “I love you ion nin.”

 Legolas chuckled.  “You have a funny way of showing it.”  He immediately regretted his words as he saw his father’s face fall.  “I am sorry adar, I did not mean that, I now you only want the best for me.  I love you too.”  He strode over and embraced his father before leaving to pack.

*~*~*~*~*

The journey out of Mirkwood, over the plains, and across the Anduin was uneventful.  Legolas had decided to walk simply because of the fact it would take longer to get to his destination.  On his fourth day since setting out, he reached the base of the Misty Mountains.  He began to climb, hoping to be able to get well over the high pass and on his way by the time night had fallen.  He knew that the main goblin caves were near the top of the mountain and he was attempting to get a relatively safe distance away from them by the time night came.  Unfortunately, he had misjudged how many hours of daylight he had left and by the time darkness fell, he was still walking along the high pass.

He walked as quickly and silently as he could.  There were caves all over the area, filled with hideous creatures, and knowing his luck he would probably run into them.  Then, as if to prove said luck, a screech rang through the night.  Legolas pulled out his bow, preparing himself for the inevitable fight.  As soon as the orcs began pouring out of the cave, Legolas began to fire.

He had taken out many orcs but was quickly running out of arrows.  As soon as his supply was out, he switched to his twin knives, blocking and attacking, moving so fast it was almost impossible to follow his movements...almost.  As Legolas spun and blocked a blow intended for his head, an orc lunged forward and plunged his scimitar into the Elf’s side.  Not thinking of the pain that was quickly spreading up his body, he quickly took the arm off the orc and, biting down on his lip to prevent crying out, swiftly ripped the weapon out of his side, allowing the blood to flow freely. Returning his focus to the remaining orcs he began to reengage in battle.  He easily plunged his knife into the stomach of an overly aggressive orc, then pivoting around, brought his other knife up just in time to prevent a blow to his head.  Legolas brought his free hand up and slit the throat of the creature before turning to the last remaining orc.  Quicker than the eye could follow, he threw his knife and it implanted itself squarely into the beat’s chest.  Wasting no time, he quickly collected his arrows, only leaving those that were broken, and picked up his discarded bow and knife, then left the area before more of the vile creatures came.

Once he had descended partway onto the other side of the mountain, a bit of the adrenaline started to wear off, to be replaced by pain and a feeling of light-headedness.  He carefully lifted up his tunic and looked at the wound.  It wasn’t pretty.  The cut was deep and ragged, but shouldn’t prove to be fatal if he could get it to stop bleeding.

Legolas tore a strip off of his cloak and pressed it against himself, hissing in pain as he did so.  He carefully wrapped the strip around his middle and tied it off in a tight knot, effectively creating a bandage.

Once he was satisfied with his work, Legolas continued to stumble along the path.  He was feeling extremely woozy from the blood loss.  “Just make it a little further and then you can rest,” he kept telling himself out loud; unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get the rest he needed.  He was walking along an extremely narrow strip of the path but was concentrating more on the pain of his injury than his footing.  Legolas didn’t notice the broken up part of the path until it was too late and the dirt was giving way underneath his feet.

Legolas tried to grab onto something, anything, but it was no use—he soon felt himself falling. Before he knew it, pain exploded in his right shoulder and side of his head, and then he knew nothing.

TBC...

Elvish Translations

Adar/Ada = Father/ Dad or daddy

Ion nin = My son

First Meetings

  “Speech”

  // Thought//

Chapter 3

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, shivered as he walked along the narrow path as the sun was just beginning to rise.  //Why does it have to be so cold up here?  I bet it’s going to snow any day now// he thought.  “Achoo!”

Aragorn sighed.  //Great. Ada’s going to kill me if I come home sick again.  Stupid horse, why did it have to get spooked by the Anduin?  It could have dropped me anywhere else and I would have been fine, but no, it had to drop me in the ice cold river water.//  “Achoo!”

It was nearly noon when he reached the High Pass and came across the carnage from the previous night.  “Looks like angered some people.”  He looked over the tracks and picked up one of the broken discarded arrows, “Or person…an Elf.  What was a lone Elf doing up here at night?  This is most unusual.”

Not wanting to stand near the rotting corpses any longer than he had to, Aragorn quickly resumed on his way.  He had only walked a short while when he came to the same part of the path that Legolas had fallen off of.  Having used this path many times, he immediately noticed where a large chunk had broken away, and by the look of it, it had happened recently.  Aragorn carefully moved towards the edge and glanced down.  There, lying on a short outcropping of rock, was a blonde Elf.  He quickly glanced around for possible ways to get to the fallen Firstborn, other than the route the being himself had taken, and was relived to see a tiny ledge leading out to the wounded being from a little further down the path.  //So here is the mysterious Elf. I hope he still lives. //

He carefully continued down the path until he came to the ledge where he plastered his body against the rock wall and carefully shuffled along to where the Elf lay.  He immediately knelt down and felt for a pulse, relieved when he found one; it was always tragic when one of the Firstborn died.  Aragorn reached over and gently shook the fair being.  “Master Elf, can you hear me?”

*~*~*~*~*

Legolas wasn’t really aware of anything.  He seemed to be floating in a blackness where everything was calm and peaceful.  Suddenly a voice began to disturb him.  The voice was unrecognizable and was calling for an Elf to wake up.  //Why is this person disturbing me?  Why does everyone insist on disturbing me when I’m here?//

But the voice wouldn’t give up; instead it kept insisting that he wake up.  Finally Legolas decided that he would wake just long enough to find out who was bothering him and tell them to leave him alone.

As he came closer to consciousness he became aware of one thing.  Pain.  He slowly opened his eyes. //Wait!  Why were my eyes closed?//

At first his vision was blurred but soon he was able to focus on the person who was bothering his sleep.  It looked to be a man in his early 20’s.  Legolas immediately forgot about going back to sleep and tried to sit up, but was only rewarded with a splitting headache.  He winced and tried to make the world stop spinning.

“Easy,” said the stranger.  “How do you feel?”  He helped the Elf sit up with his back against the cliff wall.

Legolas’ head continued to pound.  //Why does he insist on yelling?  Does he think me hard of hearing?  The people in Gondor should be able to hear him at the volume he insists on using.//

The Prince reached up with his left hand, since his right felt like it had been ripped off, and gingerly felt his head.  Bringing his hand back he noticed that it was now bloody.  “Like a horde of Oliphants decided to use me as a doormat,” he answered.  He paused for a minute taking in his other injuries.  Aside from his head, right arm and the stab wound he had received yesterday everything seemed to be fine.  “Who are you?”

“I am known as Strider, Ranger of the North, but who might you be master Elf?”

“I am,” Legolas paused, he didn’t want to give this stranger his real name so he gave the first name that came to his mind which happened to be one of his friends, “Taurdil of Mirkwood.

“Tell me Taurdil, what is an Elf doing up here by himself?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Fair enough.  What happened?”

Legolas glanced up from where he fell and was amazed that he wasn’t injured worse.  “I slipped.”

//This is most unusual, elves do not normally slip.//  Aragorn decided to let the matter go though, and instead asked, “can I help you with those injuries?  I am a capable healer.”

“No thank you,” replied Legolas, “I can take care of myself.  I thank you for your assistance, but I will not hold you up any longer.”

Aragorn chuckled.  “It is not a burden to stay here and help.  Besides, you may have trouble addressing that head wound with an obviously dislocated shoulder.”

//This human does not take hints very well.//  “My shoulder is fine, just a little bruised.”

The ranger smirked.  “Can you move your right arm then?”

Legolas tried to move his arm but the traitorous limb wouldn’t move at all.  He glared at it as if it were the arm’s fault.

“That’s what I thought.  You’ll need to have it popped back into place.”

Legolas sighed, it seemed like he had been doing that a lot lately.  “Fine, just get it over with.”  He braced himself against the wall.

Strider moved beside the Elf and took the arm in his hands.  “On the count of three.  One…two…” he pulled the arm out and up, popping it back into place.

Legolas, caught unaware by the abrupt movement on the count of two, couldn’t help but cry out.  He glared at the human.  “You said three.”

“I lied. This way you were more relaxed, whereas if I had waited for three, you would have tensed up.  Now, do you need help with your head?”

Legolas just glared at him.  “No, I can do it myself.”

Aragorn wanted to slam his own head against the hard rock wall as he watched Taurdil try to bandage his head with one arm in a newly constructed sling.  //Why do elves have to be so stubborn? //

When Legolas was finally done he tried to stand up but immediately as he moved, pain flared in his side and threatened to make him sit back down.  He gritted his teeth and managed to gain his balance on his feet.  “I once again thank you for your help, Strider, but now I will let you continue on your way.”

Legolas slowly shuffled along the ledge and got back onto the path, then began to continue along his way, but was annoyed to find that Strider was apparently heading along the same route.

“It appears we may be traveling companions for another couple days.  Where are you headed?  Imladris perhaps?”

Legolas was startled by the human’s guess.  “Not many humans know the Elvish name for Rivendell.  In fact, I have never met one.”

The man chuckled.  “I grew up around there; it is actually where I am headed, but what about you?  Is that your destination?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“You sound as if you do not wish to visit the valley.”

“Let’s just say I did not have much of a choice,” replied Legolas.  //Why am I telling the human all of this?  And why is it so easy? //

Many questions were running through Strider’s mind as well. //Who is this Elf?  He carries himself like royalty, yet I have never heard of him; but then again, he probably hasn’t given me his real name...but for what purpose would he hide it? It seems strange that he is heading for Rivendell, yet does not wish to be there—most elves enjoy their time at the house of Elrond.  This is an odd Elf indeed. //

TBC...

Elvish Translations

Ada = Dad or Daddy

First Meetings

“Speech”

// Thought//

Chapter 4

  The two traveled together for the next several days.  Legolas had tried to get rid of the stranger a few more times, but it appeared that the man simply didn’t get the hints...or, if he did, he was ignoring them.

  The trip down the mountain shouldn’t have been tiring on the two young beings (well, relatively young in the Elf’s case), but it was.  Legolas’ head was pounding the entire time, but it wasn’t due to the head injury. Every step caused a flare of pain to emanate from his side.  He had checked on the wound and it had barely begun to close, which was concerning, and the area around it was red and inflamed.  He thought that he had developed an infection, but nothing too serious; however, what he couldn’t explain was why he felt hot all of a sudden.  He was an Elf.  Elves didn’t get hot, but he was.  It was most troubling.

  It wasn’t exactly an easy time for Aragorn either.  He had become sicker and sicker.  He too had a headache, his nose was stuffed and he was sneezing like crazy.  All he wanted to do was get home and into his own bed.

  They had arrived on the plains that lay between Rivendell and the Misty Mountains.  It was a rocky and open terrain but it did harbour a few clusters of trees just off of the path.  They made for one of these clusters to rest for the night before beginning their final day of traveling tomorrow.  The two set up camp and then sat in silence, watching the sun set and cast its final rays upon the earth before descending below the horizon.  After a while Legolas decided he couldn’t sit by the flames any longer for fear of melting, so he climbed a nearby tree, ignoring the protests of his side and using only his good arm.  After about an hour or so, Strider called up to him, stating that he would take the first watch and allow Legolas to give into sleep.

  It seemed like he had just dozed off when Strider began to call out to him, eventually resorting to shaking him.

  “Taurdil?  Taurdil, it is time to wake for your watch. Taurdil?”

  The Elf slowly focused his eyes and looked to his right, startled to see that Strider was standing right beside him.

  Strider grinned at the look on the Elf’s face.  “Didn’t think humans could climb trees?”  He laughed at his own joke before continuing, changing his tone from joking to serious. “You are hard to wake, Master Elf.  I called from the ground but you wouldn’t answer.  Are you all right?” 

  Legolas tried to get the pounding in his head to subdue before he answered.  “I am fine, just a little tired.”

  It wasn’t a complete lie; he *was* tired.  In fact, he was physically exhausted.  It didn’t seem to matter how much sleep he got—he never had any energy.  He slowly climbed down the tree and allowed Strider to rest while he took the watch.

  The night was extremely uneventful. Legolas did notice, however, that as the night grew old, the temperature seemed to increase even without the sun.  //What is wrong with me?  Mayhap I should ask Lord Elrond...but no, I couldn’t show up there injured again, he would truly hate me if I did. // The memory of his last visit came to mind again, as it had done over the entire course of this trip.

  He had been visiting Elladan and Elrohir for quite some time and, needless to say, the three had gotten into trouble many times.  Eventually, towards the end of the summer, they had decided to go on a hunting trip.  There had been reports of trolls around but they foolishly ignored the warnings and continued on their way.  It didn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone who knew them when they heard that the three had accidentally found themselves in the middle of a troll’s campsite.  They had barely escaped with their lives and when they returned to Lord Elrond injured yet again, he had yelled at them and called them irresponsible and reckless, and said with an angry, threatening tone that he would not tolerate anymore of that behaviour.  Legolas had never seen the older Elf this angry in his life.  It was then that Legolas felt he had overstayed his welcome, and he left the following day even though he was injured.  He had not been back since.

  As Legolas had been reminiscing, the sun had peaked over the horizon, and the Elf went to wake Strider.  He found the human in his bedroll tossing and turning with sweat covering his face.  “Strider, awaken.  It is morning and we should head out soon.”

  Legolas watched as the human struggled with waking, finally managing to open his eyes, which were glossy and feverish.  Strider slowly got up and began to help break camp but was soon overcome with a head rush.  He swayed where he stood and Legolas was forced to rush to his side in order to steady him.  “Perhaps you should sit down.  You are ill. You have a fever.”

  Strider looked at Taurdil, nearly laughing.  //Here is someone who looks just as sick as I, if not sicker, and he is telling me to sit down!//  “You’re not the perfect picture of health either, mellon-nîn.”

  “Elves don’t get sick.”

  “Then you must be a dwarf in disguise because you are obviously ill.”

  //How dare he call me a dwarf!!// Legolas tried to think of a comeback but couldn’t comprehend anything beyond the pounding in his head.

  “That’s what I thought,” remarked Strider.  “Now come on, we had better get on our way if we want to make it to Rivendell by nightfall.”

  *~*~*~*~*

  The trip to Imladris should have taken no more than nine hours from where they were camped, but they were both so physically exhausted that it was now going on twelve, adding the hour at least they still had to go.

  Aragorn had noticed that he himself was traveling unusually slowly, but what surprised him was the fact that Taurdil was almost having a hard time keeping up with him.  He had tried to figure out what was happening to the Elf, but Taurdil had just insisted that he was fine, only a little tired.

  Without warning, the Elf stopped and leaned heavily against a tree.  “What is it?  Are you all right?” asked a slightly worried Strider. He walked over and placed a concerned hand on Taurdil’s shoulder, trying to look into the Elf’s eyes, but was unable see clearly because the fair being’s head hung down and his hair helped disguise his features.

  “I’m fine, I just need a rest.” Legolas could hardly keep up the act anymore.  His head was pounding so badly he just wanted to fall to the ground, clutch it and scream.  There was a darkness pulling at his mind, telling him to go to sleep, but he was determined to make it to Rivendell.  “I’m fine now, let’s...” the Elf paused and looked around; something was not right.

  “What is it?”

  Legolas never got the chance to answer. Suddenly a pack of large, hairy wargs burst through the bushes and glanced around.  Saliva was dropping from their toothy mouths as they spotted their potential prey.  Legolas’ senses were so dull that he wasn’t able to detect their presence until the evil creatures were upon them.

  Aragorn immediately drew his sword, while Legolas drew one of his twin knives with his good hand.

  There were eight wargs altogether and they split up evenly to take out their prey.  The animals managed to push the Aragorn away from the Elf, and one lunged at him.  The ranger quickly moved to the side and plunged his sword into the warg’s side as it soared past him.  He then pivoted around and beheaded one that was trying to sneak up on him.  The other two circled and growled, then suddenly they attacked at the same time.

  Aragorn stabbed one on the approach but the other managed to clamp its teeth onto his right arm, causing him to lose his sword.  //This isn’t good// he thought as he ripped his arm away.  The warg lunged again...

TBC...

First Meetings

“Speech”

// Thought//

Chapter 5

  Aragorn watched as the warg leapt towards him, rolling underneath it at the last possible second, and causing it to fly over him and smack into a tree.  The beast was only stunned for a second, but that was all the time Aragorn needed to grab his sword and take up a defensive stance as the animal attacked again.  This time Aragorn held his ground and plunged his sword straight through the warg’s eye, into its brain.

  Having defeated all of his enemies, the man sank to his knees in relief.  His head was pounding, protesting all of the movement and fighting, and he was feeling extremely nauseous, but he couldn’t allow himself a long rest before looking to see how his Elven friend fared.

*~*~*~*~*

  The wargs encircled Legolas and began to snap at him.  Finally one lunged forward and the Elf was forced to jump to the side to avoid him; unfortunately, that put him within reach of another animal, who took a swipe at the Elf’s already injured side. The creature’s claws tore through the soft flesh.  Legolas instantly pulled away from the beast, caught his foot in some tree roots, and fell backward.  One of the wargs used this opportunity to attack.  It leaped at Legolas, and he had to roll quickly out of the way, thrusting his knife into the creature’s belly and killing it.

  Another pounced but he was able to slit its throat, but the momentum the beast had didn’t allow it to stop and it landed right on top of the Elf.  By the time he was able to get the stinking carcass off of him, he was too tired from his previous injuries and the recent blood loss to get up.  //What’s the point?  I’m too tired to move, backed up against a tree, and there are two hungry wargs staring me in the face.  Now would be a good time for some help. //

  As if Eru had heard his thoughts, help arrived.  Just as one of the remaining wargs was going for the kill, a sword flew out of nowhere and drove itself through the beast’s neck, and at that very moment, the final warg leapt towards the Elf. Legolas braced himself for the oncoming pain. Before he knew what was going on, though, Strider dove in front of him.  The warg clawed viciously at the ranger, but even through the extreme pain he was able to slash his one small remaining dagger through the creature’s jugular vein.

  Strider lay over the Elf’s legs gasping for air.  There were claw marks all over his torso and he was bleeding heavily.  Legolas looked down at him in shock; he immediately leaned over and pressed what remained of his cloak over the man’s wounds.  He wanted to do so much more but he was too physically exhausted.  “Why?” he asked, close to passing out.

  Strider looked up at him will pain filled eyes.  “Couldn’t let a friend die,” he managed to say before losing consciousness.  Legolas smiled at those words before he too fell into the blackness that had been pulling at his mind for the past couple of days.

*~*~*~*~*

  “Hurry up El!” called Elladan as his horse raced through the bushes, “I swear I heard battle noises up ahead.”

  The twins had been sent out by their father that morning to search for Legolas, as Elrond had thought he should have arrived by then, and knowing the young Elf’s ability to get into trouble, he had been worried when there was no sign of him.

  “Do you think it could be the Prince?” asked Elrohir, who was only a few feet behind his brother.

  “It’s quite possible; I mean, who else would run into some foul creature this close to Imladris?”

  Elrohir was silent for a moment before answering.  “Estel.”

  Elladan laughed.  “Those two can find trouble wherever they go. Valar help us if they ever get together!”

  The twins raced on for a few more minutes before coming to the clearing.  Elladan vaulted off his horse and ran to where the Prince was hunched over something.  “Legolas!” He tried to pull Legolas away from the tree, but his legs appeared to be trapped by something.  He leaned the Elf back and let out a gasp when he saw who was underneath.  “El, over here, quick, it’s Estel!”

  Elrohir came racing over with bandages.  “Oh Valar, look at him!  He’s got so many cuts and his temperature is soaring.  We have to get him back to Ada quickly.”

  “Same with Legolas.  What happened to them?  Why won’t they wake?”

  “I don’t know El, let’s just hurry and hope Ada can help.”

  The twins quickly bandaged both Legolas’ and Aragorn’s wounds with the limited supplies they had before Elladan picked up Legolas’ lithe form and carried him to the horses.  Placing the Prince on his horse, he mounted behind and took off for Rivendell, leaving Elrohir to do the same with Estel.

  Twenty minutes later Elladan rode up to the Last Homely House, with Elrohir right on his heels.  They slid off of their horses and carried their charges into the house.  “Ada!” cried Elladan as he headed up the stairs to the room Legolas usually occupied.  “Ada, get in here!”

*~*~*~*~*

  Lord Elrond was enjoying some leisurely reading in his study when he heard Elladan’s desperate cries.  Wasting no time, the Elf lord got up from his seat and dashed to find his son.

  Elrond entered the room they were in, sweeping his eyes quickly over the twins to make sure they were all right, and then looking to the still figures lying on the bed.  “What happened?”

  “We found Legolas and Estel not far from here.  They had been attacked by wargs.  Both are bleeding badly and burning with fever; neither responds to our attempts to wake them,” reported Elladan.

  Elrond quickly examined them both and, deciding that Estel was in the worse condition at the moment, turned to the twins.  “I must see to Estel’s wounds.  Do what you can with Legolas and I shall be back soon.”  He picked the young man up and carried him back to his own room, where the Elf Lord would have more room to work on him.

  Lord Elrond carefully lay Estel down on the bed and then began cleansing and stitching the young man’s deep wounds.  The man had lost a lot of blood and was extremely pale, but as much as Elrond wanted to stay and watch him closely, his heart was telling him to go see to Legolas.  There was no sign of infection in Estel’s wounds so Elrond had surmised that the fever was the result of a cold, and judging by the redness of Estel’s nose and his nasal breathing, his assumption was accurate.  Elrond took one last look at his son before he went to see to the Elf Prince.

  When he entered the room the twins looked up, thoroughly distressed.  “Ada, we treated most of his wounds, but look what we found,” said Elrohir as he indicated the slash in Legolas’ side.  “Judging by the black tendrils we think it’s Morgul poisoning.  We’ve tried to get his fever to go down but it refuses to cooperate.  This wound has to be days old and the poison has spread throughout his body.”

  Elrond carefully inspected the cut for himself and determined that his sons were indeed right.  “His situation is grave indeed and I know you want to stay here, but Estel is sick and I need you two to bring his fever down.  I will stay here and try to help Legolas.”

  The twins nodded and left the room while Elrond immediately went to his study to get the needed herbs.  He quickly mixed them together, then after cleansing the wound applied the paste to the area.  Instinctively Legolas’ body tried to pull away but Elrond held him tight and made sure the antidote got into the wound. It would help not only with the poisoning, but also with the severe infection that had settled in.  Once he was satisfied that the young Elf had gotten a significant amount into his system Elrond released his hold and set about checking the work his sons had done.  The warg slashes had been cleansed, stitched up, and bandaged, as had his head.  There were still bruises around Legolas’ shoulder but they appeared to be healing.  The only real problem left was the fever.  It would be several hours before they knew if Legolas would win the fight with the poisoning but they had to get his temperature down before that.

  Elrond went back to his study to get some fever-reducing herbs and also some cold water and a cloth.  When he returned he eased Legolas up and positioned the young Elf’s head against his shoulder, carefully pouring the contents into Legolas’ mouth, which he instinctively swallowed.  When Elrond was done, he laid Legolas back onto the bed and put the cool, wet cloth against his forehead.  Elrond looked down at the Elfling he considered to be one of his own and his heart cried out.  He wanted to do something, anything, that would help Legolas get through this but there was nothing to do now but wait.

  TBC...

First Meetings

“Speech”

// Thought//

Chapter 6

  It wasn’t until late the next day that Estel woke up.  As he first came back to awareness, he noticed the pain in his chest.  Although it wasn’t nearly as bad as he remembered, it was still far from comfortable. He slowly opened his eyes and the squinted against the bright sunlight.  After his eyes had adjusted, he glanced around and noticed was that he wasn’t in the forest; in fact, he was at home, in his own bed.  Estel sat bolt upright, wincing as pain flared up all over his torso.  “Taurdil!”

  At the sound of his brother’s voice Elrohir, who had been lightly dozing in a chair in the corner of the room, immediately looked up.  “Estel!  You’re awake.  How do you feel?”

  “I’m fine,” he replied, “where’s Taurdil?”

  “Taurdil?  I don’t know, we only found you and Legolas.  King Thranduil’s message didn’t say that Legolas would be traveling with a companion.”

  “Legolas?  The Elven Prince?  The one you two always got into trouble with?”

  “Yes, we found both of you passed out in the forest, don’t you remember?”

  “No-I mean yes-I mean, I remember the forest but the Elf I was with said his name was Taurdil.  I want to see him.”  Estel began to get out of bed but Elrohir immediately protested.

  “Estel, you are not well, you should be resting.”

  “No, not until I see him.”  Estel resisted his brother’s attempts to get him back into bed and stubbornly made his way to the guestroom.  He burst through the door and Elladan quickly jumped up from where he was sitting. “Estel, what are you doing out of bed?”

  Aragorn ignored the question and instead moved over to where the Elf lay resting.  “How is he?”

  “He should be fine now.  He was suffering from Morgul poisoning but Ada has managed to cure it.  We brought his temperature back down to a normal level, but he has yet to awaken.”

  “Morgul poisoning!?!” exclaimed Estel, sounding surprised.

  “You didn’t know?” asked Elladan, shocked that his brother, a trained healer, didn’t notice the effects of the poisoning.  //But then again, this is Legolas we are talking about, the master of deception.//  He moved over towards the lavishly designed balcony doors that stood open beside the bed where his brothers were standing.

  “No, I knew he was sick, but I did not know about that.”

­­­ “I’m not surprised,” replied Elrohir.  Estel looked confused, so he continued, “Legolas has a habit of hiding his wounds.  It goes back to when he was afraid of healers, the short story is that he saw his mother die and was convinced the healers killed her and were going to kill him too.  That was a long time ago and although he is not afraid anymore, he still tries to cover up any injury.  He has become very good at it, so I’m not at all shocked that you, a person who had just met him, did not have any idea.”

  Instead of looking relieved Estel looked even more troubled.

  “But I should have known,” he cried out.  “Before I found him, I came across dozens of slaughtered orcs and I knew they had fought an Elf, and then shortly after that, I found him.  I knew he was sick as well; I should have put two and two together!”  Estel dropped his eyes to the ground, clearly ashamed of himself.

  Elladan forced his younger brother to look him in the eyes.  “This was not your fault, all right?  As you said, you had just met him; I doubt anyone who met would have known that something that serious was wrong.  You have nothing to be ashamed of, alright?”

  Estel still didn’t feel convinced but he wisely held his tongue.  Elladan took this as a good sign and said, “Alright, now you’ve seen that he is going to be fine, maybe you should get back to bed.”

  Estel was about to protest when Elrohir unexpectedly jumped to his aid.  “Give him a minute, he just found out who Legolas really was, he thought he was Taurdil.”

  “He is not well, he needs to be in bed,” stated Elladan.

  “He will go there in a minute,” Elrohir said, raising his voice slightly.

  “No, now!”

  “In a minute!”

  “Now!”

  “Do you two ever stop arguing?” asked a weak voice from the bed, causing the others to jump in surprise.  “How’s anyone supposed to get some rest with all this racket?”

  “Legolas!” exclaimed Elrohir as he turned away from his brother to look at the injured Elf.

  “Elfling, you’re awake.  How do you feel?” asked Elladan, using their old nickname for Legolas.

  All three brothers surrounded the Elf.  “Remember how you felt after the troll stepped on you, Elladan?  I think I feel something like that.”

  The twins laughed as they recalled the incident.  “How could you remember that?  The troll had knocked you out five minutes into the fight.  If I remember correctly, you had a pretty severe head wound from that club.”

  “Maybe, but I was still healed before you.”

  “No you weren’t!  You just climbed out of bed and left the next day before Ada could catch you.”

  Legolas laughed which he immediately regretted as it hurt his head.  His body was still sore but he no longer felt hot and the extreme pain in his head had faded into a dull roar.  He slowly began to pull himself into a sitting position and then became serious again.  “Speaking of your ada, is he angry?  I remember last time he said that he didn’t ever want to see us come back injured again or he would permanently ban us from Imladris.  He was so upset; I hate to see him that irate again.”

  “Is that why you’ve been away all these years?” came a voice from the doorway.

  The four younger beings turned around to see the Elf Lord standing there.  Legolas dropped his head.  “I’m so sorry for coming back hurt again, my Lord.  I didn’t intend it and I swear, this time I didn’t go searching for trouble, it was—”

  “Legolas,” interrupted Lord Elrond, “I know you did not intend for this to happen.”  He went over and sat on the edge of the bed where he forcibly raised the young Elf’s chin so that they were looking each other in the eyes.  “I would never actually banish you from here; you should know that.  I was just extremely agitated.  For months you three had been coming back bloody and bruised and I was tired of it, not to mention it scared me half to death.  You should know that I think of you as one of my own sons and if anything were to happen to you, any one of you, I do not know if I could bear it.”

  Legolas was so happy to hear these words that he couldn’t help but break into a huge smile.  For years he had believed that the Elf Lord had hated him and now, to learn he was thought of as one of his sons; it was almost too much emotion for the recovering Elf to bear.  “So...I didn’t overstay my welcome?”

  Lord Elrond smiled, “Legolas, you could never overstay your welcome, because I consider this your home as well, and nobody could possibly overstay their welcome at their own house.”

  Legolas flung his arms around the Elf Lord.  “Thank you, Lord Elrond.”

  After everything was settled Lord Elrond turned to his sons.  “I need to examine my patient now.  Estel, back to bed, Elladan, Elrohir, go make yourselves useful somewhere else.”

  “Estel?” exclaimed Legolas.  He had noticed the human standing there but had gotten so used to his presence that he had thought nothing of it.  “You mean Strider is Estel, your foster son?”  Legolas had heard the Lord Elrond had taken in a human, but he had not been back to Imladris since it had happened.

  “Yes,” said Lord Elrond, “Estel sometimes goes by that alias.  I trust you know who Estel really is?”  Legolas nodded.  “And you know that that information is to be kept secret?”

  “Yes my Lord.”

  With that said, the three brothers left the room and Elrond turned back to Legolas.  “Let’s see those wounds.”  He was pleased to note that the infection was clearing up and all the cuts were healing nicely.  “Everything looks good.  After a few more days’ bed rest you should be perfectly fine.  Now, get some sleep Dian Las,” he said as he stood up and walked to the door.  He had just about left when he added, “and please, no more sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night.”

  Legolas just smiled.  Once his door was closed he pulled the covers tightly around him and was about to drift off to sleep when the door opened once more and the human slipped back in.

  “You shouldn’t be out of bed if you’re not well,” said Legolas.

  Aragorn smiled.  “From the stories I’ve head, you shouldn’t be the one saying that.  Anyway, I just came in here because I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”  He took a step towards the bed. “I am Aragorn, although around here I am known as Estel.”

  Legolas smiled.  “Hello Estel, I am Legolas.”

  “Well Legolas, if you are tired I shall let you sleep, but, if you’re feeling up to it, I believe my brothers are planning on playing a prank on Glorfindel. Would you like to go watch?”

  The Elf immediately flung the covers off himself and stood up. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  ...And that was the beginning of what could arguably be the strongest friendship in Middle Earth—that is, until a certain Dwarf enters the picture...

  THE END

  Elvish Translations

  Ada = Dad or daddy

  Dian Las = Little Leaf

  Sadly, yes this is the end.  Thanks everyone who reviewed and even thanks to those silent lurkers out there.  I will be back eventually with more Aragorn and Legolas stories, hope you all return =)