Title: Black Mountain

Author: White Wolf

Genre: Action/Adventure/Angst

Timeline: 2962 TA

Summary: No one in the history of Middle-earth has ever returned from the mysterious Black Mountain. Now the mountain, silent for centuries, appears to be waking up, and Aragorn thinks it’s about time that he and Legolas go there and investigate. Elladan and Elrohir join them for the adventure.

Disclaimer: The DNA tests say I'm not related to J.R.R. Tolkien, so I guess that means I don't own even a tiny part of his creations. It also means I won't be getting any money for this story. Phooey.

A/N: Hello, everyone! I don't know how many readers from my previous story, "The Wrong Path", have joined me, but I hope it’s a lot. Welcome back and thank you for giving me another try. New readers are most welcome. Reviews, as you might imagine, are greatly treasured. Tell me what you think, because both praise and constructive criticism are appreciated. :o):

This story is not necessarily a sequel, so no one has to go back and read the previous story---unless you just want to, which would be very nice. I didn’t set out to write a sequel, but since this story takes place two years after that one and makes references to events that happened then, it could be considered as one. For those who don’t want to go back and read “The Wrong Path”, I have tried to make brief explanations of those past events. I’ll do my best in explaining, so no one has to sit around scratching their heads and wondering what in Arda I‘m talking about.

Chapter One

Black Mountain, known as Orod Moru to the elves, stood silent and forbidding, snow-capped and shrouded where mist met cloud. No one knew what lay on this particular mountain. There had been much speculation through time and more than a few humans, elves, even dwarves, alone and in groups had gone to investigate. Not a single person had ever retuned to tell what they had found. Thus it was that the mountain continued to keep its secrets.

It had been over three hundred years since the last brave---or foolish---souls had ventured to its black granite slopes. But now, in 2962 TA, eerie howls and rumbling noises had begun emanating from the dark, brooding mountain. Orod Moru appeared to be waking up.

It seemed the time had come for someone new to try to solve the mystery of Black Mountain.

~*~*~

"Why?" the blond elf, standing with his hands on his hips and his head cocked slightly to the left, asked his human companion.

"Because it's there?" the man answered with a teasing question.

The flickering firelight danced in both pairs of eyes.

"That is a ridiculous answer, Estel." There was a mixed tone of exasperation and bewilderment in the elf's voice. "Why must you humans feel you have to investigate something just because it exists? Why cannot some things just be left alone?" the elf asked. When the man stared at him without answering, the elf asked again, "Why?"

The man shook his head. His friend was not going to give up until his question was answered, yet he couldn't resist saying, "Legolas, has anyone ever told you that you are a decidedly single-minded elf, when you want to be?"

"I believe that you have---many times. As well as my father, and my brothers, and....” He paused and shook his head. “Do not attempt to change the subject, Estel. I ask for the third time, why?"

Legolas sat down next to the ranger. His eyes sought and were held by the flames of the campfire, as they twisted in the light breeze. Sparks detached themselves and floated upward before winking out, only to be replaced with others. It was mesmerizing, yet the elf's keep hearing and focused mind did not miss a single thing the human said.

"The rangers that have come back from the far north say the mountain has come alive. It should be investigated."

"And the mountain is there," the elf added with a terse mocking sarcasm.

Aragorn made a face at his friend, who was now looking straight at him. "In truth, Legolas, someone does need to find out what dangers lie on that mountain."

The seriousness of Aragorn’s words were not missed by the elf. "And it matters not that for millennia not a single person, who has gone to Orod Moru, has ever returned." Legolas was doing his best to be logical, though he feared that logic, at this point, was lost on the stubborn human.

"I'm a ranger, Legolas. I'm supposed to investigate and if possible, eliminate anything that may be a danger to anyone, be that one person or all of the free peoples of Middle-earth."

The elf laughed heartily. "You are unbelievable. Your goals are noble, Estel, but you act as if you are proposing a simple stroll in the garden. We will go to the mountain, find what is going on there, and either eliminate the problem ourselves or come back with all the answers to save everyone.” He flung his arms wide to emphasize the word ‘everyone‘. “Right?"

Aragorn grinned and then shrugged. "Well, yes. Why not?" The man held his hands up in front of him, palms facing outward. "I’m not crazy, so before you say it, I do know it will be difficult, but it can be done."

"Oh? When no one else has ever managed to do it?" Legolas wasn’t ashamed to keep returning to that one point. After all, it was true.

"None of those people were you and me." The smile that graced the young man's face just made the elf grimace. He had been on the receiving end of such an assertion more times than he cared to count.

"Come on, Legolas. Think of the adventure. We would be solving a mystery that has baffled most of the races since the arrival of those races on Arda."

Not taken in by the plea, Legolas said, "Estel, I will not fall for that "think of the adventure” lure. You have used it too many times in our history together. Besides, we do not know there is anything there that is a danger to anyone who leaves the mountain alone. Never has anything come down to threaten any of us."

"That we know of.” the ranger said, grinning at the logic he had just displayed. “You know yourself that there have been many mysterious happenings all over the north of Middle-earth that have never been solved. We don't know how many of those things had to do with the Black Mountain.”

“We also do not know if any of them did.”

Aragorn sighed. Convincing Legolas this time was proving to be harder than he had anticipated. Undaunted, he resolutely continued with his argument. “Think about it, Legolas. There has to be something there. As you‘ve pointed out, there are those who have never returned. In all these years, hundreds must have gone to Black Mountain. They can't all have had simple accidents like falling off cliffs or into holes or freezing to death in snow storms to account for their disappearances.”

"And the barest suspicion that they may have died unnatural deaths means we should go there rather than simply avoiding the place." It was a flat statement tinged with exasperation.

Aragorn didn't answer. He merely picked up a stick and begun drawing circles in the dirt between his feet. He knew his friend hated it when he didn’t answer a question, and he had failed to answer several so far.

A few moments of silence ensued. Aragorn’s hopes began to rise.

"There is one other thing that needs to be discussed." Legolas pointed out.

"And that would be?" Aragorn asked, not looking up from his drawing.

"I may be an adult, Estel, but my father will never allow me to go anywhere near Orod Moru. You should realize that. Look at all the pleading you had to do just to get him to let me come camping with you. And that was only if we stayed within Mirkwood’s borders."

"We won't tell him, of course."

"That would be lying, Estel. You know how I feel about that."

It was Aragorn's turn to grimace. His idea of lying was to come right out and say something that wasn't true. It was different with elves, at least this particular elf. To him saying something that was essentially true but that led someone to believe the exact opposite of what the words implied was as much a lie as speaking an untruth was.

The man tried another tact. “Do you realize that this is only the third time I’ve seen you these past two years? I miss being on adventures with you, because you've been hanging around Mirkwood much too much all this time. "

That was true enough, though the elf frowned at the words ‘hanging around‘. Ever since Legolas’s encounter with Mordraug, the evil elf, who insidiously used him in an attempt to destroy his father and take over Mirkwood, Thranduil had kept his youngest child close to home. He had given him one assignment after another to stem any arguments his son might have had about being confined to the realm for his own safety. He was after all, not only a subject of the king but also a warrior of the kingdom. His presence was both welcome and useful but not absolutely essential. His father had argued the point that the Shadow was growing in the realm and every warrior was needed.

That reason had been only a part of the truth. The king had been terrified that he had forever lost his youngest child to Mordraug’s madness, and he was not willing to risk doing so again. Neither father nor son had been fooled. They both understood, but never spoke of the king's fears.

Legolas had finally acquiesced and carried out whatever duties Thranduil gave him without complaint. He certainly enjoyed being with all of his family and friends. However, it was getting harder and harder to stay confined to the realm. As much as he loved his home, Legolas was getting restless.

During the majority of his upbringing, the wide world outside of Mirkwood had only existed for the young elf in books and tales he heard from other elves, who had traveled throughout Arda. Learning about other people and other places had given Legolas a burning desire to meet those people and see those places. Thanks mostly to the urging of Legolas’s oldest brother, Crown Prince Balardorn, the youngest child of the king had finally been given assignments outside of Mirkwood. For the most part he accompanied Thranduil or Balardoron on various missions, both diplomatic and occasionally military.

The world had proven as fascinating as Legolas had imagined it to be. It also awoke in him a restlessness that did not please his father, though Thranduil had allowed his son his freedom, once he had come of age. However, it wasn’t until the incident with Mordraug that the king felt the need to keep his youngest at home.

In the intervening two years, Legolas had seen Estel only twice before this. They had spent time together in Mirkwood, but even its vast borders were becoming too small to contain Legolas’s yearning. The two friends longed to go adventuring much farther afield. It was for that reason that the ranger had come to Mirkwood once again to try and break Legolas free.

"My father would want to know, demand in fact, where we were going. The mere mention of Orod Moru would send him into a frenzy. Have you ever seen my father in a frenzy?” He didn’t wait to see if Aragorn was going to answer. “I think not. Whatever lies on the mountain would be nothing compared to that. So, how do you propose we get his permission to go there?"

Aragorn had no immediate answer for that. It was now he, who stared into the fire. Leaning forward, he picked up several pieces of wood and put them on the fire, which hissed and crackled. A shower of sparks flew upward, as the burned wood underneath collapsed into the ashes below them. The flames increased, as the new wood began to be consumed.

The long silence from the elf told the man that he had won the argument. When Legolas was serious about arguing, he rarely needed to stop and think about it. He either kept up the verbal barrage until the other person changed his mind, or he changed his own mind, a rarer occurrence but not an unheard of one.

To Legolas's chagrin, he also knew he was going to give in. He wasn't convinced that going on such an investigation was the wisest thing to do, but he had to admit that it did sound intriguing. And Aragorn was right about one thing: There was no way to know that danger did exist and was not now gathering for some sort of assault on any or all of the peoples of Middle-earth. Even Sauron had had to begin somewhere. The idea that another Dark Lord, even a lesser one than Sauron, may be in the making made the elf shudder.

The ranger lifted his head and grinned at the elf. "You're going to go with me, aren't you?"

"Well, someone has to keep you out of trouble."

Aragorn laughed. "That hasn't happened yet, but I welcome you to try." Of course, the opposite was true, as well. Legolas had certainly had his share of troubles, despite having a ranger of the North at his side. Or maybe that was because of it. To his friend, he said, "Tell me I will not regret this."

"Would you believe me, if I did?"

"No."

"I’m glad you realize that we need to go." Aragorn had adopted a serious tone. "There doesn’t seem to be anyone else to do it. We need to find out what's happening on that mountain, Legolas."

"That will be hard, since no one has ever survived Orod Moru," Legolas pointed out yet again. He once more went back to the more immediate problem. "You never answered me about my father. He will not let me go into that kind of danger. If he cannot stop me as my father, he certainly can as my king. I am a subject of the realm, and I owe him my allegiance."

Aragorn could not continue to avoid the subject. He knew Legolas was not speaking out of fear for himself. Very little frightened the elf. Concern for family and friends could bring fear to the elf's heart quicker than anything. He believed that Thranduil’s concern for his youngest was overriding his desire to grant his son’s wish to go anywhere outside of Mirkwood‘s borders.

“We will work something out,” the ranger said reassuringly.

The two friends stood up, and Aragorn clapped Legolas on the shoulder. "We may well end up doing something more important for Middle-earth than we could ever imagine."

"Or be added to the long list of people who have disappeared forever on Orod Moru," the elf muttered with a resigned sigh.

TBC

Chapter Two

The next morning dawn broke clear and bright. The breeze that began to blow lightly through the trees held the promise of another warm summer day. The sweet melodic sound of birdsong drifted from the foliage, and the small woodland creatures, who hunted and toiled in the light of the sun, were already stirring. It hadn’t taken long for the inky blue of night to fade into the color of a robin‘s egg. A few white clouds floated lazily overhead.

At the light touch from Legolas on his shoulder, Aragorn opened his eyes. He nodded at the elf and then spent a moment taking in the glorious azure expanse above him. He was only mildly surprised that the morning had advanced as far as it had while he slept.

Unconcerned, the normally early-rising ranger made no attempt to get up from where he lay. He yawned widely and stretched his muscles, legs stiffened, arms reaching upward, and fingers splayed wide apart.

The groaning noise the man made amused his elven companion. “You sound like a bear waking up after a long winter’s sleep,” Legolas commented casually, as he dropped down into a crouch beside the banked coals of the campfire. At the elf’s urging, which included the adding of twigs and a few deep exhaled breaths, the fire began to rouse itself, as well.

“I feel like one,“ Aragorn remarked, as another big yawn stretched his mouth wide to resemble a small cavern. Still not quite ready to rise, the man just rolled over on his side and watched the elf work the fire. After a moment, he announced, “The sun is up already.”

“Well, it is good to see that a long night’s sleep has not dulled your incredible powers of perception,” the elf said, as he added larger pieces of wood and then took a long stick and poked the small flames into a larger version of themselves.

Aragorn looked around him, hoping to find something he could throw at the chuckling elf. Nothing came to hand outside of his pack and his weapons. He was using the pack for a pillow, which he wasn’t about to part with it, and he thought that tossing any of his weapons might be considered a bad move by the elf. The man looked both frustrated and slightly amused.

Legolas was fully aware of what his friend was wanting to do but decided to ignore him. However, he couldn’t suppress a grin, when it became clear that no object was going to come flying his way.

Soon satisfied that the fire was blazing strong enough to sustain itself, Legolas set a small pot of water over the flames to heat up. When the water was hot enough to earn his satisfaction, he slipped several pieces of dried fruit into the hot water. He wasn’t planning on actually cooking the fruit, only reconstituting it.

After several moments, Legolas glanced over at Aragorn, who had been so quiet, the elf thought maybe he had gone back to sleep.

“I’m awake,” the ranger, whose eyes were closed, said, when he felt the elf‘s gaze on him. “Is our food ready?”

“Mine is,” Legolas replied.

Aragorn knew that his friend was just trying to goad him into squawking his dismay. The ranger had been through it too many times in the past to fall for it now. However, he decided to go along with the jest, as he always did. “Oh great. Now I suppose I’ll have to get out of bed, come over there and prepare my own,” he grumped sourly, though he had to work hard to keep the fact he was grinning out of his voice.

“You will, if you want to eat,” came Legolas’s casual reply, not fooled in the least by his friend’s grumbling.

With his grin still firmly in place, Aragorn threw the blanket off of himself and got to his feet. When he walked the short distance to the fire, he looked down to see a plate of plump, juicy fruit and warm crusty bread smeared with honey and a dollop of butter waiting for him. “I knew you would feed me.” the ranger said, as if he had won some kind of victory.

“You are too sure of yourself, human,” Legolas remarked. He had poured the hot water, which was now infused with juice from the fruit, into two cups, and he handed one of them to Aragorn.

“Perhaps. But don’t forget that I know you very well.”

“I may surprise you one day,” Legolas said. Then, in a more somber tone, he said, “I fear this is the last of the honey and butter.”

Aragorn simply nodded. He knew how much Legolas loved his honey and butter on any kind of bread. To tell the truth, the man loved the combination, too. Briefly his mind went back to all the times in Rivendell and Mirkwood he had enjoyed such a treat.

After a few moments of eating in silence, Legolas looked sideways at the ranger. “I suppose you have not changed your mind about going to Orod Moru.” His voice held a note of resignation. He knew better than to hope.

“Not at all. I still think it will be an exciting adventure, possibly resulting in great good for everyone.” The man was smiling. It was an infuriating expression of triumph. Legolas had seen it resting on his friend’s face more times than he cared to count.

“Right. Well, I suppose we will find out,” was the only comment Legolas made, as he put the last piece of buttered, honey-laden bread into his mouth. Knowing he would not be getting any more for a long time, he chewed slowly and savored the sweet taste, which lingered teasingly after he had swallowed the last morsel.

Just before Aragorn popped the last piece of his own bread onto his tongue, he said, “I imagine we will.”

The two friends finished eating their fruit. By then the sun was beginning to rise above the treetops. The gently swaying leaves sent the slanting rays of dappled sunshine dancing around their campsite.

“This has been a lazy morning,” Aragorn commented, as he eyed his forlorn bedroll, obviously having thoughts about returning to it.

“I have enjoyed it very much, Estel. Thank you for coming all the way from Rivendell to spend time with me.” It wasn’t hard to detect the sincere gratitude in the archer’s voice.

Aragorn put his hand on the elf’s shoulder. He didn’t want to dredge up old pain by mentioning the horrific events of two years ago, so instead he just smiled and said, “I am always happy to be in your company, mellon nin.” He couldn’t resist adding, “Even if you don’t feed me.”

The elf suddenly stiffened, though certainly not because of his friend’s teasing words.

The archer stood up and turned his head so that his right ear was aimed in the direction from which he had sensed and then heard something. After a few seconds, he said, “Riders.”

“Should I arm myself?” Aragorn asked, knowing that fair wind or foul, Legolas’s instincts were to be trusted. Whatever the elf said do, he would do without a second thought.

“I do not sense danger.”

“It’s probably some of your friends. Or perhaps your father has sent another patrol of warriors to check up on you.”

The bad part about that statement was that the king had done just that three days ago, which had been the second night the two friends had spent in the forest. The encounter with the warriors, who patrolled the northern border of Mirkwood, seemed like an accidental meeting, but Legolas knew better. It was a sore point with him that the king had seen fit to send warriors to make sure his son, himself a skilled warrior, was safe out in the forest of his own home, so Aragorn had not teased the elf about it then. Now, however, the subject appeared to be fair game.

All the ranger got in return was a look that would have caused the man to instantly combust had the elf possessed the power to accomplish it. Aragorn merely shrugged and then looked off into the trees, where he now heard the sound of hooves on bare earth.

Just before two horses broke free of the surrounding trees, Legolas relaxed. It was instantly apparent why he did not fear the two riders that now headed straight for the campers.

“Elladan! Elrohir!” Aragorn cried, as he ran forward to greet his elven brothers. He hugged each in turn, as they dismounted and returned their younger brother’s embraces.

They were soon wrapping their arms around Legolas, as well. “We ran into one of your patrols nearby, and they told us where to find you two,” Elladan said innocently, not having any idea of the emotional storm he was stirring up in the woodland elf. Elladan frowned when he saw Legolas frowning.

Legolas’s next words were sharp. “Nearby, you say? Just where did you encounter them?”

“Just over the ridge on the other side of the stream,” Elrohir informed his friend, inclining his head due west. He could not imagine why that knowledge was clearly upsetting Legolas. Elladan turned a questioning look toward Aragorn.

It was Legolas, though, that spoke first. “They have probably been there the whole time we have been here,” he complained to Aragorn before turning and stalking away, jerking his head down sharply several times. The ranger could only imagine the oath that must have come out of the elf’s mouth.

“Did we come in on something we should not have interrupted?” Elladan asked almost tentatively.

“Sort of. I mean, you two did nothing wrong. It’s just that there’s a bit of a battle of wills going on between Legolas and Thranduil.”

The twins looked at each other, understanding that part of it but still in the dark as to the reason such a battle should exist. And their faces showed it.

“Come over to the fire and sit down,” Aragorn told them, as he turned and stood between his brothers. With an arm around each of their shoulders, the man pushed them gently toward the blazing campfire.

“Have you eaten?” Aragorn asked them, as they each took a seat on a fallen log several feet from the heat of the fire.

“We ate at the patrol’s camp,” Elrohir said. “We are not hungry.”

At the mention, yet again, of the patrol camped not far away, Aragorn looked toward Legolas, who was standing next to a large oak tree with his back to them. His head was still down and the palm of his right hand rested against the rough bark.

The eyes of the twins followed their brother‘s gaze toward the woodland prince. They still did not understand what was going on. Elladan just stared, while Elrohir’s impatience was getting the better of him. “What is wrong?”

All of a sudden, it came to Elladan. “You are upset, because your father has ordered a patrol to keep an eye on you. Is that not it?” He had directed his words toward Legolas’s back.

“That is exactly it,” Legolas said, as he turned around and graced his three friends with a stormy expression. “He is treating me like someone who can no longer take care of himself.”

“Legolas, that is not true.” Aragorn found himself defending Thranduil. “He nearly lost you forever, and he is frightened of doing so again.”

“I understand that, Estel. But it has been two years since Mordraug. He cannot keep me a virtual prisoner in this forest until the time we sail west to Valinor.” Legolas knew that two years by immortal elven standards was hardly any time at all. However, when those two years were spent in confinement without the ability to go where he chose, when he chose, it seemed a very long time indeed. “I am sure he never would have let his father do this to him.”

All present knew the King of Mirkwood well enough to be sure about the accuracy of that statement. Thranduil was as close to a force of nature as any elf they had ever seen or heard tell of.

“Well, I think that we may have a solution for you, Legolas,” Elladan informed the irate archer.

Legolas turned a hopeful, yet puzzled, look on the two Rivendell elves.

With a smile, Elladan said, “We have just come from seeing your father.”

“Ada had a message for King Thranduil, and we insisted on bringing it, so we could come here to see you,” Elrohir explained. “We arrived late yesterday and spent the night in the palace.”

Elladan took up the explanation again. “After evening meal last night, we asked him if you could come back to Rivendell with us for a visit.”

“I imagine that was a lively discussion,” Legolas couldn’t help saying, trying hard not to sound sarcastic.

“It was actually,” the oldest twin admitted. “We asked for you to come for three months, and return just before the snows would begin to close the mountain passes, but that was not acceptable to your father. We discussed it some more and after a while, Thranduil gave in.”

Legolas’s jaw dropped at those words. “My father gave in? Not possible.”

“He did,” Elrohir insisted then had to admit, “Well, part way anyway. He said you could go and be gone with us for six weeks.”

The blond elf sat down on the log next to the twins, looking for all the world like someone in deep shock, which was a pretty accurate description right then. “Six weeks?” was all he could manage to get out.

No one was sure if the archer was thinking that such a length of time was much longer than he was anticipating or much too short.

Elladan said, “The funny part is that we had originally decided on that length of time ourselves, but then we thought that he would probably cut that in half, so we asked for twice as long. He did end up halving it and saying six weeks.”

“I guess we kind of tricked him into that,” Elrohir said, smiling in satisfaction at the accomplishment.

To everyone’s surprise, Legolas burst out laughing. Aragorn did not think it was joyful laughter.

Legolas looked at the twins sympathetically. “You did not trick my father. I am sure he was well aware of what you were doing.”

At Elrohir’s doubtful expression, Aragorn nodded. “He is probably right, Elrohir. It is exceedingly hard to put anything over on Thranduil. I’ve learned that, if nothing else, over the years.”

Continuing his explanation, Legolas said, “My father said six weeks, not so much as a compromise, but more because that is as long as he will permit me to be gone. It will also ensure that even should an early snow arrive to block the passes, I will be safely back here under his thumb again long before that could happen.”

Even though Thranduil and Aragorn had come to an understanding during the incident with Mordraug, and Thranduil had accepted the friendship between his son and the ranger, Aragorn was relieved to know he would not have to face the king to argue Legolas’s case. He would have faced Eru himself, if it meant setting Legolas free from his confinement, but in truth, he hadn’t a clue as to how he would have handled facing Thranduil without lying, which Legolas had strictly forbid him from doing. This way his brothers accomplished the task in all innocent honesty.

Now the ranger’s face lit up. “However Thranduil meant it, it doesn’t really matter. You have been given six weeks, Legolas, so we can now go to Black Mountain.”

At the mention of going to Black Mountain, both Elladan and Elrohir looked at their human brother with stunned expressions. “What are you talking about, Estel?” Elladan asked. “We are going to Rivendell.”

“Yes, of course, it’s just that we are taking a slightly round-about way of getting there.” He grinned mischievously.

At Legolas’s sigh, Elladan cringed. “You really intend on going to Orod Moru? Estel, have you gone mad?” The elder twin couldn’t have been more shocked, if Estel had said he was going to cut off his own head.

“Yes, he has finally lost his mind completely,” Legolas answered.

“You agreed to go, too, you know,” the ranger quickly pointed out, as he stared at the blond elf.

“He badgered you until he talked you into it, did he not?” Elladan asked the young wood elf. He knew his brother’s powers of persuasion. They had been used often enough on he and his twin.

Legolas nodded slightly, seemingly ashamed to actually say the simple word ‘yes‘.

“He had mentioned it a few times recently, about wanting to go there, I mean,” Elrohir said. “But, thinking our little brother was an intelligent representative of the human race, we did not take him seriously. Our mistake.”

“Estel...” the elder twin began but got no farther.

“You can save your breath, Elladan. Legolas gave me all the arguments last night that I care to hear. He and I are going and that is that. If you would like to go, then you will be most welcome. Otherwise, I wish to hear no more about it.” The ranger’s words sounded harsh, but his tone was not. He was just very adamant about not going over the same ground he had already covered with the Mirkwood prince.

Legolas stood up, turned and moved several paces away from his friends before turning back to face them. He was trying to decide if he should leave and let his father think he was on his way to Rivendell or whether he should go back and have it out with Thranduil once and for all. He thought that the latter was probably the better course, but he was still upset about the whole patrol business.

Watching the emotions playing across the archer’s face, Aragorn had a pretty good idea what the elf was thinking, so he finally asked, “Are you going to talk to your father?”

Making his decision, Legolas shook his head. “It would do no good. I could argue with him until Middle-earth fades, and he would never agree to let me get anywhere near that mountain. We have this one chance right now, so if we are going, we will have to go directly to Orod Moru from here.”

TBC

Chapter Three

Aragorn frowned slightly. It was now his turn to be reluctant. “Legolas, Are you sure you do not wish to talk to your father first? He will be furious at you, not ot mention worried, when he finds out we have not gone straight to Rivendell.”

“I do not wish to cause my father needless worry, nor do I like deception, Estel. You know that, but I am not a child, and I refuse to be treated like one. Two years is long enough for my father to spend deciding where I can and cannot go. Even Balardorn has argued with him about letting me leave Mirkwood. My father refused to change his mind. I will deal with him when I return,” the elf said with a no-nonsense tone that made it clear he was not going to change his mind, either.

The ranger, despite all his arguing for them to go to Black Mountain to begin with, was now experiencing a bit of doubt that Legolas should let his feelings of being pinned in and watched, cloud his judgment. He wanted to go, but he didn’t want Legolas to feel guilty afterward that he had tricked his father, something Legolas had just told the twins was almost impossible to do.

The man had visions of the nearby patrol being sent after them to Black Mountain and then dragging Legolas back to Mirkwood. He didn’t even want to think about what his friend’s reaction to that humiliation would be. So it was with a sigh and a glance at the wood elf’s familiar expression of determination that he said, “All right then, we leave for Black Mountain.”

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other. It was abundantly clear that both Estel and Legolas were definitely going to Orod Moru. It remained to be revealed to them just why, but for now, they had to make up their minds if they were going to accompany their brother and their long-time friend.

“We cannot let them go alone,” Elrohir whispered to his older twin.

“You are right, of course,” Elladan agreed. He turned to look at Estel and Legolas. “We will accompany you, but you must tell us why you would even want to go to that dreadful place.”

As the four of them began to break camp in preparation for the coming journey, the ranger began to explain.

Elladan and Elrohir just looked at each other, when Aragorn finished his story. They each had both a feeling of dread and a thrill of excitement at the prospect of going to the infamous mountain and possibly accomplishing what their brother had suggested: solving a long-held mystery. The trick was going to be surviving long enough to get that information to the ‘outside‘ world.

Turning his mind to a more immediate issue, Elrohir asked, “What about the patrol?”

“I will deal with them,” Legolas said resolutely. He mounted his gray stallion, Elenblaith , and headed for the ridge and the patrol camp beyond.

He returned in less than twenty minutes. “Luck is with us,” he said. “My father sent them a message that I was going to be leaving Mirkwood, and they were to resume their normal duties. They were just mounting up to continue their patrol, when I arrived.”

Legolas did not mention that he had felt close to embarrassment, knowing that those warriors, all of whom he had either served with at one time or another or captained, had known exactly why they had been camped where they were. He shrugged the feeling off. There was nothing he could do about it now anyway. Being a prince of the realm as well as a patrol captain would likely protect him from being teased by all but the closest of his elven friends. He shook his head. That, at least, was in the future.

He sighed, forcing himself not to think about the nagging feeling of guilt that pricked at the edge of his mind at the idea of letting his father think he was doing one thing while not only doing something completely different but doing something that he knew his father would not have allowed. The feeling he had had nothing to do with getting revenge for Thranduil’s over-protectiveness. *I love you, Ada, but i have to do this for myself. I hope you will understand.*

Soon the four companions were on their way north to Black Mountain and to whatever was awaiting them there.

~*~*~

For five days the three elves and one human had been making their way steadily northward. leaving the great forest of Mirkwood far in their wake. The anticipation of what might await them on Black Mountain was held in check, even by Aragorn, as the four companions hunted and camped along the way. They did not tarry, knowing their time was limited, but neither did they rush along in a tear to reach their goal.

By the fourth day, they had reached a point beyond which even Aragorn’s travels as a ranger had not led him. The elves, likewise, had never been to the region that now surrounded them.

All four were soon lost in a world that offered much in the way of game and opportunities to briefly explore seemingly virgin forest and stream. It was not strictly so, of course, since many had been this way before, but few called it home.

During the journey, the four friends stayed in one place only long enough to hunt and sleep. Their noon meals were spent on the move, usually consisting of dried meat and/or lembas.

The air cooled slightly as they moved away from the warmer weather to the south, yet the only real chill came with the winds that blew through their camp every night, typically after midnight. The days, however, remained comfortably warm and flooded with sunlight. In every direction, the landscape, whether deep forest or open meadow, grew profusely in various shades of green.

Being a wood elf, Legolas, even more than the twins, embraced the world of living things that he found wherever he looked. The Song of Life stirred deep within his soul and brought him a peace that nothing else could quite match. The small forests that they traversed sang their greetings to the young silvan prince, happy to have him in their midst. He happily returned the joy they expressed.

More than once, Legolas had to restrain himself from leaping off of Elenblaith’s back into whatever tree happened to be above him.

Finally, when Aragorn had caught Legolas, a wistful look on his face, staring up into the branches of a tree, he had said, “Go ahead, Legolas. Climb up there and commune. It’s getting late anyway. We’ll camp here and call you, when the meal is ready.”

The elf had vanished into the foliage so fast it brought laughter from the three Rivendell brothers. Aragorn, in particular, had chuckled heartily, as he slipped off of his horse and began to unload his packs. “Give him a new tree to talk to...” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

When called later, Legolas had come down to eat and then had gone back up among the happy tree’s branches. It filled his heart with joy to commune with a tree in a forest he had never seen before. There was always something new to learn, and the young wood elf was always eager to learn it.

It wasn’t long after the night had spread its cloak of darkness over the land that Legolas’s sweet, clear voice was lifted in song. It continued far into the night, sending his companions gently onto the path of dreams.

~*~*~

The four rode steadily northward, and on the fifth day, they rounded a large pair of dark gray boulders set on the edge of a small forest. Sitting directly ahead of them, and rising upward to contrast starkly against the azure sky, was the infamous Black Mountain. It was a breathtakingly beautiful sight.

Though the dark mystery that surrounded the mountain made its name quite appropriate, it had originally received its name from the black granite that made up its mass. Even the warmth of summer could not melt the crystaline snow that packed the higher elevations and sparkled like sugar in the sunshine. Black jagged ridges jutted from the bulk of the mountain, making the white snow in between look even more pristine.

On this day, there were no clouds and no mist, making it easy to see all the way to the twelve thousand foot summit.

Aragorn let out a soft whistle, as he gazed at the imposing mountain before him. He couldn’t suppress a thrill at the idea that he would soon be setting foot this mystery-shrouded legend.

By contrast, Legolas felt a shiver go through him. The sensation was fleeting, but he knew he had not imagined it. He had expected to feel evil rolling off of the mountain in waves. He had grown up with evil and knew well the feel of it. Yet strangely enough, looking at the mountain now, he had only an echo of danger, not dissimilar to what he felt when encountering any common peril.

Even the valley forest where Mordraug had lived had radiated evil. The foreboding he had felt then was absent now. Still, the elf was not foolish enough to discount this present danger just because it did not spring from the kind of malevolence that made up the Shadow of the Dark Lord. It would be prudent to remember that even common danger could be just as deadly.

Legolas glanced at Elladan and Elrohir and wondered what they were thinking. When a smile broke out on Elrohir’s face, Legolas had his answer. “This is going to be some adventure,” the younger twin said.

“My argument exactly,” Aragorn said, looking pointedly at Legolas. The Mirkwood elf was not looking his way and didn‘t react to his words, though he knew, of course, that they were aimed directly at him.

Legolas shook off any feelings of doubt that may have been trying to get his attention and now looked at the mountain with undisguised admiring eyes. “It is beautiful,” he had to admit in genuine appreciation of its majesty.

Aragorn swept his right arm in an arc toward the mountain. “Shall we?” Without waiting for a response from anyone, he started forward.

~*~*~

It took most the rest of the day to reach the small foothills that surrounded the base of the mountain. It was clear to all that they would have to make camp for the night and begin their ascent early the next morning.

After half an hour of looking, they finally found a somewhat sheltered spot to set up their camp. The trees here were small and windblown, but enough of them were found on a level spot near the bottom of one of the hills to serve as a suitable place to spend the night.

After the horses were tended to, the fire built and the meal cooked and eaten, the four sat around the fire and began discussing their plans for the next day.

“We will have to decide where to leave the horses,” Aragorn pointed out.

Legolas nodded. “I know they cannot be left on the mountain should we try to take them up as far as we can ride them, but I hate allowing them to stay too close to its base, either. We do not know what lurks here, and I would not leave them in danger.”

“Nor would I,” Aragorn agreed.

It had taken them five days to reach here by horseback. Coming here on foot had never even been considered an option. Legolas was right. However, they could not leave the horses to try to fend off who knew what kind of danger that may be awaiting the chance to strike them up on the slopes. The extra time they would save them by riding farther up the mountain was not worth the risk.

“I saw a small valley off to our right, as we topped this hill,” Elrohir said. “It looked like a stream was close by. I could take the horses there in the morning and leave them. I think they would be safe enough until we return.”

Elven horses were famous for obeying to the letter whatever instructions were given them, so after a few moments discussion, Elrohir’s idea was agreed upon. He would take them to the valley in the morning, tell them to stay there unless danger threatened and then they were to flee to safety until sought out and called by their masters.

The next discussion involved food and supplies. None of them wanted to lug all of their packs with them, yet they would need a supply of food and water, since they couldn’t be sure whether or not there was anything worth hunting on the mountain itself. They would also need blankets, because their cloaks alone would not be enough protection against the biting winds and the snow. The pack containing Aragorn’s healing supplies wasn’t even mentioned, as it was a must to take.

They all spent the next hour arranging and rearranging everything they had decided to take with them and everything they would be leaving behind. Each one of them would carry parts of everything, so if a pack was lost, they wouldn’t lose all of any one thing. Even the healing herbs were split up to a degree, although Aragorn kept most of them.

Once all was in readiness, they set the watches and then settled down to get as much sleep as they could.

Legolas. taking the second watch that began at midnight, had his back against one of the trees on the outer edge of the camp. his right leg was pulled up so that the bottom of his foot rested against the trunk beside his left knee. His bow was leaning lightly against his left side. Both the camp and the mountain were in front of him. All of his senses were trained on his surroundings.

It was close to the end of his watch, when the howls began.

The first sound the elf heard was a single, haunting howl that sent a shiver down his spine. To an untrained ear, it might have sounded like an ordinary wolf, baying at the full moon that rode high in the night sky. However, to the sensitive ears of an elf, the timbre of it was slightly different, far more chilling than the cries of an ordinary wolf. It was like nothing the archer had ever heard before.

In an instant the elf had straightened and taken up his bow. The second time he heard a howl, this time a deeper-throated sound, it was a bit nearer to his position, so he drew an arrow from his quiver and set it to his bowstring. He did not pull back on it, only kept it ready, because he did not, as yet, feel that whatever had made the sound was near enough to be an immediate danger to him or his sleeping friends.

After a third howl drifted down from the mountain side, this time more to the right, Legolas stepped away from the tree, He moved several paces forward, stopping at the edged of the shadow cast by the tree. He did not want to reveal his position to any prying eyes. His own keen eyes searched the silvery moon glow for any sign that the danger was moving any closer. The fourth howl revealed to Legolas that these creatures, were apparently content to stay up on the mountain, for the time being anyway.

The elf did not know how long he stood there, utterly silent and unmoving, trying to pick out movement or another sound, when he heard his name spoken softly from several feet away.

He recognized Elladan’s voice immediately.

The dark-haired elf approached him slowly, not sure if Legolas had heard him or not. “Legolas?” he repeated.

“I hear you, Elladan.” It was then that the wood elf turned his head toward his friend.

When Elladan reached Legolas’s side, he asked, “Is there something out there that has caught your attention? The way you were standing with your bow ready to be drawn, you were obviously looking at or listening to something. I did not want to distract you.”

“I heard howling from several individuals, high up on the mountain. It was a strange sound, similar to a wolf yet not exactly so. I do not feel that the danger, if indeed that sound represent such, is moving toward us. Yet...”

“Yet what?” the elder twin asked.

“I think they may know we are here.”

Now it was a shiver that went down Elladan’s spine. Of all the words Legolas could have said, those were not the ones he wanted to hear.

“It is time for my watch. Do you think you will be able to go back to sleep now?”

Legolas grinned, as he took the arrow from the bowstring and put it back in his quiver. “If you think you can stand guard without me, I will find sleep again.”

Elladan nodded. “I believe I can handle things by myself. However, I will not hesitate to call for your aid should I prove to be mistaken.”

Legolas grinned and gave the Rivendell elf a light slap on the shoulder, as he headed to where his blanket lay. Despite his confident words to Elladan, it took Legolas a while to get back to sleep. He wasn’t really worried; he was more curious than anything. What creature could have made such a sound? He had the distinct feeling that before long he and his friends would know all too well what it was.

TBC

Chapter Four

Just before dawn, Elrohir got up from his bedroll and prepared to take the horses to the little valley he had mentioned the previous evening.

Aragorn, having taken the last watch and was thus awake, approached Elrohir, as the elf swung up onto his mare’s back and called softly to the other horses. The ranger reached the mounted elf‘s side and placed his hand on his brother’s leg. “Be careful, Elrohir. I’m sure you know there is danger afoot.”

“I will, Estel,” the elf replied with a reassuring grin. “Keep yourselves out of trouble.” He said it as if he wasn’t too sure that was going to happen.

Aragorn chuckled. “We will be waiting for your return.”

By the time Elrohir was over the hill and out of sight, the eastern sky had begun to fade. One by one the stars winked out, as golden light traveled westward, pushing the inky blue of deep night ahead of it and leaving in its wake a bright blue that heralded a new day.

Aragorn retuned to sit by the fire he had re-stoked not long ago. He packed the bowl of his pipe with pipeweed, lit it and sat leisurely smoking. He glanced at his oldest brother and his best friend, both lying on their backs, eyes wide open, completely lost in the realm of elven dreams.

All that remained for them to do was eat and hide the packs they were not taking with them. It would probably take Elrohir close to an hour to take the horses to their secluded little valley and return on foot, so there was no reason to wake Legolas and Elladan just yet.

The man now occupied his mind thinking, as he had done earlier during his watch, on the howling that Elladan had told him Legolas had heard. The elder twin had not been witness to the sounds himself nor had he detected any other noises coming from the mountain, while he stood watch. Aragorn wanted to question Legolas about exactly what he had heard and his impressions of it, but such inquiries could wait a little while longer.

The ranger turned his attention back to Black Mountain, watching as the snow-capped summit glowed a golden white in the rising sunshine. Danger notwithstanding, he could not avoid admiring it beauty as much in the early morning light, as he had the day before.

Looking at the majestic mountain now, it was hard to believe that it was labeled evil and fearfully avoided by all but the most hardy of adventurous souls.

Even lost in thought as he was, it did not startle him, when he glanced back toward the fire and saw Legolas approaching him. He was used to the stealthy silence of his friend’s movements.

When he had awoken, Legolas had immediately looked toward where the horses were being kept near the campsite. “I see that Elrohir has left already. I hope that valley he saw will keep the horses safe.”

“He wouldn’t take them there, if he had any doubts.” Aragorn’s tone was not spoken as harshly as the words might indicate.

“You are right, of course,” Legolas conceded, wondering why he had even spoken his concern out loud. He didn’t doubt Elrohir. He knew his elven friend would make sure all was secure before he would ever leave the horses on their own. He would bring them straight back, if there was even a hint of danger anywhere near them.

Legolas shook his head. Perhaps the howling lingered in his mind more than he realized. He wasn’t afraid. It was just that there were so many unknowns regarding this mountain and whatever lived there. Caution would have to be at the forefront of their minds, when they headed upward.

“What do you think caused the howling? Wolves?” Aragorn asked, taking another puff on his pipe and watching as it was grabbed by the early morning breeze and sent twisting away until it dissolved, only to be followed by another.

As usual, Legolas was sitting on the other side of the fire, which was upwind of the ranger. He couldn’t handle the foul smoke his friend‘s pipe produced.

He had long ago given up trying to talk the ranger out of igniting the noxious weed and then inhaling the resulting smoke. All of his arguments had had about as much effect on the man as arguing against coming here had. So the elf just kept his distance, switching locations whenever the wind shifted and threatened to send the offensive smoke up his sensitive nose.

Ignoring his friend’s bad habit, Legolas shrugged. “I do not know. It sounded somewhat similar to wolves, but I do not think that is what it is.”

“Any guesses?” Elladan asked, as he joined his human brother and his elven friend. He sat next to Legolas, away from the pipe smoke.

“None,” Legolas replied. “This is new territory for us all. There is no telling what lies up on those black slopes. It could be a type of wolf, probably related to those roaming throughout Middle-earth. Or it could be something completely different.”

That idea had not occurred to Aragorn. Elladan had mentioned howling and wolves were the first and only thought the ranger had. His curiosity was peaked, however, he knew he would not get any answers until he saw the creatures for himself.

Elrohir entered the camp just as Elladan was dishing up warmed-up portions of stew left over from the previous evening’s meal. It was hardly a first choice for something to eat so early in the morning but it wouldn’t keep and they weren’t about to waste it.

Elladan looked up and grinned. “Always in time for a meal.”

“Of course,” the younger twin replied. He sat down next to Legolas and took the plate of food his brother was offering. “There is nothing like a good run to get the appetite stirring.”

After handing out the other two plates of food, Elladan took his own plate and sat down on the other side of Legolas. “How do the horses like their temporary home?”

“They seemed quite happy with it, running around and exploring before I even got out of sight.” On a more serious note, he added, “They will stay put and be vigilant for danger.”

After a moment, Elrohir looked up from his plate. “Put that nasty pipe away, Estel, and we will sit with you.” The three elves were all seated together on one side of the fire while the man sat alone on the other side.

“I know the real reason,” the ranger said in a very pitiful voice. “You all blame keeping your distance on my pipe smoking, but the truth is that you do not like me.”

The elves looked at each other and laughed. “He has found us out!” cried Elrohir.

“Indeed he has,” Elladan agreed, his brows furrowing in a deep frown, pretending to be disappointed in that fact.

Legolas just feigned innocence, bent his head down over his plate and went back to eating the last portion of his meal.

A short time later, the dishes and the small, now-empty pot were cleaned and divided up to be taken with them. Once that was done, Legolas slung the two large packs that they were leaving behind over his shoulder and carried them up to the top of the highest tree in the area. He secured them among its branches and then dropped soundlessly to the ground. There was no reason to believe that anyone would be climbing any of these trees while they were gone.

~*~*~

The mountain was studied with critical eyes in the hopes of finding the easiest way to ascend. By the time the four companions had reached the bottom edge of the granite slopes where they had decided to make their climb, the sun was shining down on them in full force.

The trail that soon revealed itself was a natural path that led upward between the great rocks making up one of the vertical ridges. The ground, though uneven and covered with small pebbles, was broad enough to accommodate people side by side.

They stepped onto the rocky trail and began their climb. They were a long way from the snowline, but the light wind they were encountering carried a sharp crispness that blew straight down from the heights into their faces.

The rocks were starting to rise up taller and many were now closer to the path, forcing the companions to start walking single file.

The trail also became steeper, which was to be expected. It zig-zagged only slightly, making most of the going relatively straight up and thus harder on the legs. Even had there been no danger to the horses from whatever lived on the mountain, they probably couldn’t have made it up this trail, at any rate.

Legolas had taken up the lead and scanned ahead of them. Aragorn came next and looked to the right. Elrohir walked behind him and was responsible for covering their left side, while Elladan, in the rear, glanced frequently over his shoulder, as he kept his ears focused behind them. It wasn’t until they paused for the mid-day meal that they swapped positions and reversed the order in which they traveled.

The sun moved relentlessly across the sky overhead, reaching its zenith and then sinking into the west. The tall rock wall of the vertical ridge to their left soon blocked the rays of the sun and plunged the friends into shadow, though it was still bright enough to maneuver. However, that changed, as the day began to wane even further.

The elves’ vision was not only clearer at long distances, able to pick out details of things that mortals couldn’t even see, but elven eyes were also able to pull in more light, and thus they could see better in gloom and shadow. So of them all only Aragorn would have trouble negotiating the pebble-strewn trail once the shadows deepened. The ranger, who had forever tried to compete with his elven brothers while growing up, had never been happy with this part of his mortal limitations but had eventually, though reluctantly, accepted it.

“We need to start thinking about a place to spend the night,” Elladan pointed out, from his current position at the front of the line.

“Do you see an acceptable place to stop?” Legolas called up to the eldest twin.

“Not so far,” Elladan answered. He looked up at the sky, a bit dismayed to see a couple of stars already beginning to make their appearance. Still, it was not fully dark yet. “We can go a little longer, I think. Hopefully, something will soon make itself known.”

Aragorn was now having to watch the path in front of his feet. He knew that his brothers ahead of him wouldn’t let him wander off the path, but he worried that he might step on a stone that could slide out from under him or that he might trip over the raised edge of the stone they traveled upon. Even if he escaped injury, he knew he would never live it down. Elves had very long memories, and these elves in particular never passed up an opportunity to tease.

Not twenty yards ahead of them, they came upon a group of boulders that formed an overhang deep enough to accommodate all four of the friends and their packs. The shelter sat in the middle of a protruding ledge with a sheer drop off of many hundreds of feet right below it.

Aragorn eyed the shelter skeptically. “The whole thing hangs out over nothing. If that ledge decides to give way...”

Elrohir shook his head. “Estel, that ledge will not fall. It is too solid.”

“Good. Then you sleep in the back. I’ll stay nearest the trail.” When everyone else laughed, the man stared at them. “I’m serious. You saw all those huge boulders we passed on the way up here. Just where do you think they came from?”

“Fine,” Elrohir said, not answering the question. “I will sleep in the back, and you can take my turn at watch.”

During the journey, the watches had been divided into three parts. Each night one person was allowed to sleep through the night undisturbed. Last night, Elrohir had been the one to skip taking a watch. This night it was Aragorn who was scheduled to get a full night’s sleep.

Eyeing the ledge once again, this time taking a closer look and seeing that all the rocks making up the shelter were large and solid-looking, with no cracks visible. “I’m not going to give up my night’s sleep. I’ll take my chances on the rocks staying put.”

“That’s what I thought,” Elrohir said smugly.

They all settled into the shelter, as the last of the day’s light faded into night. Each of the friends carried some tinder and wood chips to start and maintain a small fire, but not wanting to attract any unwanted attention in this forbidding place, no fire was attempted. Lembas served as the evening meal.

~*~*~

No sooner had Legolas begun the last watch than the howling started. Each howl was answered by another creature in a different location, some farther away than others, some to the right and some to the left. There were more than half a dozen different creatures by Legolas’s reckoning. None of the sounds seemed to be moving. However, the elf knew that could change in a flash.

‘Why does this happen only on my watch?’ Legolas questioned to himself. He was tempted to go and investigate but, of course, there was no question of leaving his friends. He would also not wake them---yet.

Looking back at the small sleeping group in the shelter, Legolas moved out onto the trail. He checked it in both directions and then raised his eyes to scan the higher elevations. The snow that draped the upper third of Black Mountain glowed bluish silver in the moon light, but there was no movement that the young elf could perceive.

Then a slight movement several yards up the trail caught his attention. He had seen it out of the corner of his eye. Jerking his head down, he stared, sure he had seen a shadow darker than the surrounding night move swiftly across the trail.

Straining his senses to their fullest, he kept perfectly still and listened. There was no movement now and nothing stirred, not even the air. The only sound he heard was the pounding of his own heart. Taking deep breaths, he forced himself to calm.

He was convinced he had seen something. He was sure of it. Yet, for all he was able to detect, he night have been alone on the mountain. ‘I did not imagine it,’ he declared.

The archer realized that standing out on the trail, even as sheltered by rocks as it was, made him a vulnerable target for searching eyes. He didn’t like the idea of him and his friends being trapped in the rock shelter, but right now staying put was the most prudent choice.

Legolas moved back to the entrance so nothing that might attack could get between him and the others.

He had loaded his bow with an arrow at the first howl he had heard, and now he drew back on the bowstring and aimed it in the direction he had seen the shadow move. If any danger presented itself, he would sound the alarm, knowing his friends would react instantly. But for now, he would wait.

TBC

Chapter Five

Legolas didn’t know how long he stood motionless, wrapping all of his senses around the mountain as far as they would stretch. The howls continued, though they were now beginning to gradually fade into oblivion until there was only the sound of the wind to keep the elf’s senses occupied. He saw nothing moving and was not toounhappy over that fact.

All the many years of using a bow had built up extra strength in his arms and shoulders, and he could hold a bowstring at full draw for many moments without making the tiniest of movements. Yet even the strength of an elven archer could not hold that position indefinitely.

When none of Legolas’s strained senses could pick up any more evidence of the howlers or any other beings, the elf relaxed slightly. He did not lower his bow, but he did loosen the pull of the string to less than half way.

Legolas once again wondered why the howlers only seemed to come out and display their haunting tones to him and not to any of his friends. The thought that it was planned that way did not occur to him until moments later, when he finally released all the tension in his bowstring.

Staring upward onto the shadowed mountain, the archer shook his head. It had to be a coincidence. Why would he be singled out? He had never been anywhere near Orod Moru before. He was also not the only elf here, so just being one of the Firstborn could not be the reason. Shaking his head yet again, he turned back toward his friends, none of whom had apparently moved a muscle during the whole incident.

The elf once more placed himself between his sleeping companions and the trail to wait out the remainder of his watch. This time he held his bow upright in front of him with his left hand while he kept his right hand loose and ready to pull an arrow from his quiver at the first sign of trouble.

Nothing else happened on the elf’s watch, yet his attention never wavered.

~*~*~

Within seconds of each other, both Elladan and Elrohir stirred and then woke to the dawning light of a new day. Elladan reached over and poked Aragorn in the side to rouse the sleeping ranger, eliciting a pained groan from the man and a laugh from his twin.

All three were soon on their feet, shaking, folding and then repacking their blankets.

Aragorn stepped up beside Legolas, still standing where he had been at the entrance to the shelter. He had already taken care of the elf‘s blanket for him. “Anything?” he asked, as he scanned the slopes above him.

“More howlers about an hour ago.”

At those words, the twins joined them. “Why do they only entertain you?” Elrohir asked. He almost sounded hurt.

Legolas gave him a curious look. “I have no idea. I think perhaps they want to confound you, Elrohir.”

“Well they are doing a very good job of it.”

Aragorn couldn’t help grinning at the exchange, but in truth, he was as confused as Elrohir. Glancing at his friend, he said, “Was there anything different this time?”

“I saw a shadow move across the trail,” Legolas said matter-of-factly.

“A shadow?” Aragorn declared. “And just when were you going to tell us about that?”

“I am telling you now,” Legolas replied with a slight frown. He turned his head to regard the two dark-haired elves on his right. They were both looking at him in surprise.

Elladan seemed to recover first and asked, “What kind of shadow?” He knew Legolas would not have mentioned the shadow, if it were not something out of the ordinary.

Legolas took a deep breath. “It crossed the trail just this side of those rocks there.” He inclined his head toward the large rocks on both sides of the trail that led up ahead of them. “It was so dark and the movement was so fast, I could not begin to tell you what it was or even what it looked like. I do know that it was not a howler. Or at least, it was not one doing any of the howling I had just heard. It was too close and the howling was too far away.”

“I don’t like the idea that anything potentially dangerous is that close to us,” Aragorn said, suppressing a shiver. “There are so many boulders around us that anything could be on us before we know it.”

“That is true of many mountain trails,” Elladan reminded his foster brother. “Orcs and wargs in the Misty Mountains, for example.”

“That’s true,” the ranger replied. “But we are not in the Misty Mountains. This mountain is something quite different and is home to who knows what.”

Legolas laughed. “You are the one who was so determined to come here, Estel. Do not tell me you are now having doubts.”

Aragorn scowled at the wood elf. “No, of course not. I just prefer to know my enemy.”

“Orcs or wargs these are not,” Legolas declared firmly. He didn’t mention that those two minions of the Dark Lord could well prove to be preferable to what these things might turn out to be.

Since further discussion without further knowledge was not going to bring any answers, they ate their morning meal and began the day’s trek upward.

~*~*~

By the time they had finished the mid-day meal and continued along the trail, the weather began to change---for the worse. They had all considered themselves lucky that the days and nights so far had been clear and only mildly cool. Now, however, the mountain was starting to show its gloomier side, the one that helped to promote its mysterious reputation.

Fog rolled in at the same time that clouds, forming rapidly overhead, moved lower and settled down to meet it, blanketing the slopes with an ominous swirling mass of white. Shrouded was one of the words that had always been used to describe Black Mountain, whenever it had been talked about in the past. The word was still accurate.

It didn’t help that a few moments later, the four companions reached the lower edge of the snowline. Soon white flakes began drifting downward, adding their presence to the mix.

The air and the ground that surrounded the friends was turned to white, as the ice crystals that fell on them combined with the clouds and the fog, dropping visibility to only a few feet. Even the elves had trouble seeing in this wild world of white.

As was to be expected, the temperature began to drop.

The four friends had to slow their pace, almost having to feel their way along the trail. It, too, seemed to be conspiring against them. It had all but disappeared, leaving only a small space between the jagged boulders beside them.

Suddenly, black dots appeared several yards ahead. It took a moment for the dots to begin taking form, although nothing in that whiteness could be considered recognizable as anything more than indistinct blobs.

The dark forms appeared on the ground and along the tops of the rocks. So many joined the group that it looked like one solid mass of darkness amidst the churning whiteness.

A single howl erupted, followed by another and then another. Almost instantly, the swirling wind was driving the sound in a relentless assault against the four companions, who each shuddered at the noise that assaulted them.

Elrohir, in front, stopped short, causing Aragorn to bump into him. The man jumped back in surprise and consequently lost his balance on some loose pebbles.

Legolas, right behind him, grabbed his arm and pulled hard to get the man back on his feet. In doing so, the elf, standing on a thin patch of ice, felt his feet begin to slide out from under him, as his body fell backwards.

Both Aragorn and Elladan tried to grab the Mirkwood prince. The ranger missed completely while Elladan, behind the archer, managed to get his fingers around a part of Legolas’s sleeve. Unfortunately, the cloth was pulled out of his desperate grasp, as the younger elf, now on his back, continued slipping away.

The dark figures and their howling were completely forgotten.

Elladan lunged forward, trying once again to grab Legolas, but the wood elf was soon lost to sight.

Elladan swung a stiff arm out to the side to stop both Elrohir’s and Aragorn‘s advance. Neither had seen the gap in the rocks that opened onto a sheer drop of hundreds of feet straight down. Their attention had been aimed down toward the ground where they had last seen Legolas. If it hadn’t been for Elladan’s effort, both would have disappeared over the edge the same way Legolas had just done.

Once the younger twin and the ranger had stopped moving, Elladan matched their horrified expressions. All three stood staring down into the swirling nothingness.

As they stared, the howls around them turned to screeches that might have passed for laughter. It was hard to tell, though right then, no one was paying any attention.

After breaking free from stunned silence, Aragorn desperately yelled out Legolas’s name. The elf’s name came back to him as a muffled echo. Then his elven name of Estel came to him clearly---and close.

The ranger dove onto his his stomach. “Legolas, is that you?” He knew the question sounded silly, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yes, Estel, it is me.” He couldn’t help but have a who-else-would-it-be tone to his voice.

The man’s head appeared over the edge of the rock ledge. He let out a very large sigh of relief and a groan of dismay at what he saw. The elf was hanging from the cliff wall several feet below the ledge. His fingers were wrapped around every little piece of protruding stone they were able to reach.

Elladan was soon on his stomach beside Aragorn, while Elrohir quickly rooted through his pack for a rope.

As Elladan‘s face came into view, he and Aragorn leaned far out over the ledge. Both began to slip. Elrohir grabbed each by an ankle and pulled them back. “This is not going to work,” he said sadly. “The edge is too slippery.”

Legolas frowned. “Do not risk any of your lives,” he admonished in a commanding voice. At that moment, he could have been mistaken for his formidable father.

The three anxious brothers knelt several feet from the ledge, each desperate to find a quick resolution before Legolas’s hold loosened and he fell.

Elrohir held the rope he had pulled from his pack ready for immediate use.

Only seconds passed, when Legolas’s voice, now obviously farther away, came up to them. “I have found the solution.”

Aragorn started to move toward the ledge, momentarily excited that his friend had apparently found a way to save himself. Elladan’s hand on his arm stopped the ranger from moving out onto the icy patch without thinking, so he simply raised his voice. “What have you found?”

“I looked through the mist and saw another ledge below the one you are on. I dropped down onto it.”

Aragorn and the twins looked at each other, and they all grinned. “Then we can throw you a rope, and pull you up to us.”

“No need,” came the Mirkwood prince’s voice. “This ledge leads somewhat parallel to your trail. Hopefully, the two will come together not too far ahead or they will come near enough to each other that you can use the rope to pull me up without the danger this current situation has presented.”

“It sounds logical, but I don’t like the idea of you going off alone, Legolas. Not with those howlers so close.” It was then that Aragorn remembered the indistinct figures they had seen and the howling that had accompanied them. He suddenly realized that the howling had stopped. All was now silent. “The howlers,” he said to his brothers. “Where did they go?”

Elladan and Elrohir looked up the trail, their keen eyes doing their best to penetrate the white mist. They saw nothing. The dark shadowy figures were not in evidence.

Aragorn shook his head. That did not bode well. Were they now on their way down to Legolas? Since he had been the only one to hear them before, was he their target? Were they even anything to fear at all? Perhaps the enemy they were expecting to find was something that had yet to make an appearance.

“I don’t like you on this mountain alone,” the ranger declared to his friend, repeating his earlier concern.

Legolas would have laughed had he not recognized the seriousness in the ranger’s tone. He could not make light of his friend’s genuine worry for his safety. He certainly did not take offense that right now the man might not be thinking of Legolas as a skilled warrior with a noteworthy reputation.

Aragorn had always trusted in the elf’s abilities, yet he had somehow never been able to shake the feeling that he should protect his friend. He supposed it had to do, in large part, with trying to prevent an immortal life from being destroyed. It was just something that they always did for each other.

This situation on this mountain intensified the protective feeling in the ranger. However, he recognized that there was nothing he could do about things as they now stood. “Be wary, Legolas. The howlers have disappeared up here, and I do not trust that they have left us to ourselves.”

“I will join you soon,” Legolas called up to reassure his friends. He did not tell them, Aragorn especially, that the ledge he stood on was barely wide enough to accommodate his lithe form. He took a deep breath. It was a good thing that he possessed incredible balance. He would need all of that inborn talent to negotiate his way to safety.

With another deep breath that he let out slowly, the elf began making his way along the ledge. He concentrated on the path ahead of him and momentarily pushed aside the creeping feeling, making its way up his spine, that he was not alone on this very narrow ledge.

Legolas's bow and quiver kept him from pushing his back firmly against the rock, so he was having to inch his way along on the balls of his fee while facing the cliff. The palms of his hands were out beside his head and moving over the rough stone.

The archer moved carefully, sometimes having to pick his way around outcroppings in the rock wall. Once he had to grab a handhold and swing out around the rock face until his right foot made contact with the path on the other side of the protrusion. It never bothered the elf to look down from great heights, although at present, the foggy mist hid the sheer drop that began just inches below his feet.

Suddenly a high-pitched chattering behind him made Legolas freeze in med-step. Turning his head to look back toward where he had just come from, the elf stared in utter disbelief at what greeted his eyes.

TBC

Chapter Six

Making their way in and around the boulders safely took a lot of concentration for the three brothers from Rivendell. Some of the rocks were so close together that the two elves and the ranger had to squeeze through sideways. They also found themselves having to watch their steps as the ground was becoming increasingly icy.

Yet nothing they were forced to do could take their minds completely off of Legolas, who was making his way on the narrow ledge below them. They could only imagine how treacherous his exposed pathway was.

Several times Aragorn had called out to the Mirkwood elf and then waited anxiously for the reply that would reassure them, for the time being anyway, that he was all right.

It didn’t sit well with the ranger or the twins, when the trail they were on gradually angled to their left and began to move farther and farther away from the cliff edge. Aragorn found himself having to shout several times before he finally heard the archer’s faint, wind-whipped reply.

There was no way he, Elladan or Elrohir could visibly check up on their friend, because there was no opening at all near the cliff edge. It had been incredibly bad luck that Legolas had slipped on ice beside the only gap the rocks offered.

The brothers would have been very dismayed, if they had been able to look down on the ledge below them and see that it was angling downward and was much lower now than it had started out, when Legolas had dropped onto it.

Aragorn shook his head with a mixture of frustration and anger. Things were definitely not going the way the ranger had planned. “We are getting farther away from Legolas, and I don’t like it,” the man declared unhappily to his elven brothers.

Elladan stopped and turned to face the ranger. “I do not like it either, Estel, but there is nothing we can do to remedy the situation right now. Have faith.”

Putting his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder, Elrohir said, “We must trust that Legolas will be able to join us soon. He is very resourceful, as you well know.”

“Yes, I know.” Aragorn sighed. He knew Elrohir was right. During the many years of their friendship, Legolas had proven that fact over and over. Yet bad things had sometimes happened to the archer, as well, and there was no way to know whether or not this might be one of those times. It took him only a second to shake off that unpleasant thought. Legolas would be all right and would join them shortly. ‘Please, Valar, let that be true.’

The three brothers continued along the only pathway open to them. As Elladan had just pointed out, there was nothing else they could do right then.

~*~*~

Legolas stared a the creature that was standing not more than six feet from him on the narrow ledge. His first thought was: ‘What in Arda is this thing?’

What the elf beheld was a creature about four feet high. It had no muscles to speak of, looking like skin stretched tightly over bone. That skin was black as night and resembled tanned leather but had no shine to it at all. It was covered with a thin layer of sparse and very coarse, black hair that looked totally incapable of keeping the wind and cold off of the creature’s body, though it seemed oblivious to the current weather conditions.

The being’s head was too large for its frail-looking body Its eyes were large and black with only a thin rim of white around the edges. It was obvious this creature could see very well in the dark, probably much better than an elf.

Was this one of the howlers? It didn’t seem likely, since it would have been extremely odd to hear those haunting howls coming out of this scrawny creature’s mouth. Pathetic was the word that came to the wood elf’s mind, as he gazed at the being. though he had always tried hard not to be judgmental based on looks alone.

The beast looked starved and lacking the strength to cause anyone any trouble. It might be looking to find in Legolas an ally. Perhaps this creature was as much a potential victim of the howlers as he and his friends were. Then again, there was no way of knowing if the howlers were even the dangerous ones on this mountain.

Legolas felt compelled to at least try and communicate with this creature. “Do you understand what I am saying to you?” he asked in both Westron and Sindarin.

There was no reply. It didn’t surprise him. He figured that any creature capable of speech and living isolated on this mountain would not be fluent in any of the other tongues of Middle-earth.

“I guess not,” the elf said sadly, feeling almost foolish for even asking in the first place. He had hoped, though, that he could possibly learn something from this creature.

The tall, fair elf and the short, black creature stood and stared at each other for what seemed like hours, black eyes boring into blue-gray ones.

The wind was blowing much stronger now, and Legolas found himself having to hug the rock wall even closer, his fingers tightening around the few and all-too-small protrusions the stone offered. His hair whipped wildly about his face, but his gaze never left the creature’s face.

The elf made a sudden decision and very slowly lowered his left arm and began to reach out toward the creature, who was so spindly that even the wind did not affect it. Surely the two of them could find some common ground and help each other.

No sooner had Legolas’s arm reached its full outstretched length than the creature opened its mouth in a wide grin. Arrayed inside were twin rows of pointed, yellow teeth, complete with fangs a good two inches long.

The odd thought occurred to Legolas that he didn’t see how so many teeth could be contained within that mouth.

The creature snarled and snapped at Legolas, though he was too far away for it to be more than a display---and probably a warning, as well. It was enough.

In an instant, Legolas jerked his arm back and gripped the stone again, as a howl erupted from the creature. The piercing sound actually caused pain to the elf’s sensitive ears. He winced but did not dare let go of the rock he faced to put his hands over his ears. He refused even to close his eyes, determined to keep his attention on the beast. There was no telling what it might do next.

The look of pain on the elf’s face seemed to excite the creature, and it raised the volume of its howls.

Legolas continued to stare, ignoring the pain in his ears. How could such a resonant sound come from a throat that looked as if it barely existed? The head looked more like it had been jammed down on a stick. Yet there was no denying that the howls, like the ones he had been hearing, were coming from this leathery skeleton creature.

It wasn’t long before several other howlers appeared behind the first one. In moments the narrow ledge on Legolas’s other side was filled with the little beasts.

Every fiber of the elf’s body was screaming escape. Going up was not an option. The cliff face was too smooth for even an elf to climb, and the drop behind him was several hundred feet to certain death on the granite rocks below. Legolas was trapped with no place to go.

~*~*~

“Do you hear that?” Aragorn said. The question was asked without thinking, since his elven brothers would have heard the sound far easier than he could have ever hoped to.

“The howlers,” commented Elrohir. “They seem to be down....” He clamped his mouth shut, as the horror of what he was about to say struck him

Aragorn and Elladan didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence to understand exactly what he had meant. Legolas was down there. And right then, down there was not the place to be.

Aragorn just stood and stared in the direction of the cliff. All that he could see was the huge, black boulder that stood directly in front of him. His heart began to pound, as he waited in vain for the elf’s call of reassurance that he was still all right. The man started forward, as if he was planning on climbing the large rock to see for himself what was happening to his friend.

“Perhaps, he is too far ahead of us to hear you. His path may be easier to travel, especially for an elf,” Elrohir remarked to try and offer comfort to his human brother‘s increasingly troubled mind.

“It is also very windy, Estel. He may not hear you,” Elladan said, adding his own touch of reassurance.

The man just stared at first one twin and then the other. “You two don’t really believe either one of those theories, do you?”

Neither answered.

“I didn’t think so.”

“They are possibilities, Estel,” Elrohir said.

Aragorn sighed and glared back at the boulder, as if that was the only thing keeping him from the archer. “I know he would stay within earshot of us.”

“Unless he wanted to surprise us by suddenly appearing on the trail in front of us.” Elladan was trying hard to convince himself that this could be a prospect worth mentioning. However, his voice lacked conviction. He felt bad, when Aragorn turned his head to look up the trail and then felt worse, when the hope on the ranger’s face disappeared.

Elladan felt the light touch of Elrohir’s hand on his arm but could not look him in the eye. He knew, though, that his twin was offering support. In turn, he put his own hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “We will find him,” was all he could manage to get out, not realizing that his words could mean that he might now think Legolas was beyond their reach.

~*~*~

Legolas’s heart had fallen when he had seen that the path ahead of him now contained more of the howlers. He turned his head from side to side, trying to keep his eye on the two groups of creatures on either side of him.

As his hopeless situation hit home, he ended up closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the cold rock face. There was nothing he could do to stop whatever these creatures might have in mind to do, and the admission of helplessness was not a pleasant one.

The last notes of the howls died away, or rather were ripped away by the wind. Once again the only sound Legolas heard was the fierce air currents that were buffeting him.

A moment later, Legolas heard his name come swirling down to him. He recognized Aragorn’s voice. It was the fourth time the ranger had called to him. The elf wasn’t sure what he should do. He didn’t want to tell his friends that he was obviously in big trouble. There was no way they could help him, and trying might endanger them. However, saying nothing at all might cause panic in his friends and end up producing the same results.

The decision was taken out of his hands very quickly. With Legolas’s attention temporarily diverted, one of the howlers jumped on his back and wrapped its bony, black arms around his neck with a strength that no one seeing the creature would have ever dreamed it possessed.

Legolas was so surprised that he almost lost his balance.

No sooner had the creature landed on the elf than he opened his mouth and with all those jagged yellow teeth, bit down on Legolas’s left shoulder.

At first there was merely an intense pressure, but as the force of the bite increased, Legolas felt a sharp pain. The teeth had entered the elf’s flesh and he flinched, trying to pull his shoulder down out of grip of those horrid teeth. The howler bit down harder.

Legolas reached over with his right hand and tried to push and then pull the creature off of him but to no avail. There was only one thing left for him to do. He bent his head down and bit the creature’s arm as hard as he could. It felt like he was biting into rancid leather that hadn’t been cured properly, and the taste of the liquid that ran into his mouth, though only a small amount, was disgusting.

The howler was just as surprised at Legolas’s move as the elf had been when the creature had landed on his back. Pulling its teeth out of Legolas’s shoulder, the howler tightened its grip on the elf’s neck, forcing his head back. Convulsively, Legolas had to swallow the foul liquid.

The creature put his mouth next to the elf’s ear and hissed, “Hurt me again, and you will die painfully.”

Legolas’s face reflected his utter shock. Not only could the creature speak, but it spoke flawless Westron. Of a secondary shock was the deep resonance of its speech. Again Legolas wondered how such a sound could come from this bony frame. He would have shaken his head, if the grip on his neck hadn’t been so tight.

“There is no escape for you, elf,” the creature said in the same hissing tone.

Unfortunately, Legolas had to admit that that was true. He was at the mercy of these creatures. The trouble was he had no idea whether or not they possessed any mercy.

Again Legolas’s name rode the wind down to them. “My friends will be wondering what has happened ot me. They will...”

“Do nothing,” the howler finished. “If they could help you, you would be up there with them now.”

The archer closed his eyes. It was getting tiresome having to agree with this creature, especially when it involved his own helplessness. “What do you want?” he asked sternly, not sure if he would get an honest answer, if he got one at all.

“Why you, of course. Elf flesh is very sweet, and it has been long since we have tasted it.”

TBC

Chapter Seven

Aragorn was getting more and more upset by the second. He walked over to the closest place next to the cliff edge that he could reach, which happened to be between two boulders. He yelled out Legolas’s name over and over, pausing only briefly to listen for an answer.

Elladan and Elrohir, while anxious to hear Legolas’s return call, looked at each other with sadness in their gray eyes. Elladan shook his head. What had happened to their friend, they had no idea, but they knew it probably wasn‘t good. However, neither felt that his spirit had departed Arda.

“I think that Legolas’s failure to answer us has something to do with those howlers,” Elladan commented softly to his twin.

“I am afraid that you are right,” Elrohir replied. “it would be too unrealistic to think that those things are down there where he should be, and they are not responsible for him not answering Estel’s calls to him.”

“You believe they have him.” It was a flat statement.

Elrohir nodded. “They must.”

Elladan didn’t answer, because Aragorn was approaching them.

“He does not answer my calls. Those howlers must have taken him.” The man’s tone reflected his barely contained anger. When his brothers did not answer him, he frowned at them. “You agree.”

Knowing that trying to offer encouragement for Legolas’s safety would be in vain, Elladan said, “Yes. That seems logical, at this point.”

“Then we must hurry,” Aragorn said, as he turned and headed up the trail.

“Estel, we do not know that they have taken him that way,” Elrohir said. “They may have gone back the other way.”

The ranger shook his head. “I don’t think so. They came from up there,” he pointed toward the top of the mountain, “so I think that is where they live, and that is where they will take him.”

There was nothing to do now but to continue heading upward and hope, as they had before, that the two trails would eventually join up.

~*~*~

The first thing the elf was aware of was a swaying motion. It reminded him of floating in the Forest River at home and being rocked by the gentle current. Surely he was not in the water. He didn’t feel wet for one thing. ‘Then where am I?’ he asked himself. However, try as he might, he couldn’t get his mind to snap out of the fog it seemed to be encased in.

Slowly an intense pain began to make itself known. There was no fogginess about the aching throb in his left shoulder. ‘Was I shot?’ He couldn’t remember being in any kind of fight. Perhaps he had been ambushed. Again the fog in his mind kept him from working out what had happened that had caused the pain he was feeling.

He also couldn’t figure out why his mind was in such a fog to begin with. He had awakened from unconsciousness before, and he had now come to the conclusion that he must have been unconscious and not asleep, and never had he felt quite so out of it like this. He had always been able to snap his mind back into focus very quickly. ‘Why am I so groggy?’

As the fog began to clear a bit, he tried to pry his reluctant eyelids open. It didn’t help much when he finally accomplished the feat, because all he could see were two hairy, black sticks moving back and forth in front of his eyes. He frowned, not having a clue as to what those things could be. The fact his head was hanging down, and he was looking at them upside down didn’t help matters any, though Legolas decided that even if they, whatever they were, had been right side up, they would have looked pretty much the same.

Then the stench hit him, as a foul odor was driven into his face by the wind. Howlers! More fog lifted in his mind, and it all came back to him in a sickening flash. He had been on the narrow ledge, working his way along, when those horrid creatures had shown up.

The clarity of the memory of being bitten, biting back and swallowing the howler’s blood slammed into his memory. He almost gagged at the thought of it.

It was then he realized that he was tied up and suspended from something, a pole of some kind most likely. Legolas tried ot figure out how he could possibly be carried in such a way along the narrow ledge.

There was no way to know without being able to see more than what he was looking at right then, so he forced his head back even more until he was looking directly below him. It made more sense, when he saw that the ledge had widened to about a foot and a half.

He was being carried somewhere. That was obvious. To be eaten! The elf felt a shudder go through his body at that horrible thought, and he wished he hadn’t remembered any of it. ‘No,’ he corrected himself. ‘I would not know I need to escape, if I did not know what is planned for me.’ The thought that he had at first tried to make friends with the howler came to him. Either way, believing himself a friend or knowing he was a captive, the end result would have been the same.

As much as he wanted to raise his head up to ease the dizziness that was now vying for his attention, he did not want the howlers to know he was awake, so he closed his eyes and tried to think of something else.

What had become of Estel, Elladan and Elrohir? Had they been attacked and killed, and...? Legolas shuddered again. He squeezed his eyes tight. ‘Please, Valar, no. Let them be safe.‘ The archer took a deep breath, not willing to think any longer on that dreadful prospect.

More questions pushed their way into his thoughts. Had they escaped the howlers attention? Were they now in a desperate search to find him? Legolas fervently hoped that the answer to the last two questions was yes.

A thought now occurred to him that had gone unnoticed before. He was sure that the howler he had first seen had spoken to him in perfect Westron. Surely that had been his imagination, an hallucination brought on by---what? There had been nothing in his journey along the ledge that would cause such a thing. And he had not hit his head on the way over the cliff.

He tried to bring forth the sequence of events that happened on the ledge. It soon came to him that he had bitten the howler and swallowed its blood before he had heard it speak. That had to be it. The blood was making him think he heard what he had not really heard. There was only one problem with that logic: he distinctly remembered the creature whispering into his ear a mere second or two after he had ingested the liquid. It was not near enough time to cause such an hallucination. Did the howler really speak to him?

Legolas was tempted to ask and see if he got an answer, but he decided staying quiet right now was his best course of action. He would have to satisfy his curiosity later. For now, he just listened but only heard the same chattering he had heard when the first howler had shown up on the ledge behind him. ‘It must be their native tongue,’ he mused.

Just then a huge gust of wind knocked him into the side of the cliff. He hit on his right side but the impact traveled across his body and jarred his left shoulder. It was already screaming at him from having his body hanging below his up- stretched and weight-bearing arms.

The elf bit his lip to try and stifle a groan, as a sharp pain lanced through his shoulder and down both his chest and back. He held his breath, waiting to see if the howlers had heard it. When they did not seem to notice, he let his breath out slowly. The raging wind must have covered the sound he made.

Five minutes later, Legolas realized that the howlers had not been fooled by his attempt to appear unconscious.

The creatures stopped their forward movement and stared to climb up onto the rocks above them. They smoothly pulled the elf up with them, first raising his upper body and then his legs, back and forth. As he was finally leveled out and started forward again, Legolas heard a voice near he ear. “You have not fooled us, elf. We know you are awake.”

Legolas’s eyes flew open. He had to lift his head in order to see the howler’s face, which was mere inches from his. “How is it that you can speak in the common tongue?’ Legolas inquired. It was perhaps a silly question to ask, considering the predicament he was in, but he couldn’t resist.

The only answer he got was what might pass for a laugh. It sounded more like a squeal. Then the howler, who Legolas surmised was probably the leader, of this group at least, walked up ahead and disappeared from sight in the swirling mist. The others soon followed, toting the elf along like so much baggage.

Legolas, realizing that they must now be on the same path that Aragorn and the twins were traveling, tried to peer back down the trail past the howler, who was shouldering the back end of the pole. He couldn’t even see the last howler in line, so he slowly lowered his head. Having it hanging down the way it was hurt his neck, but trying to keep it level was even worse.

The archer wasn’t anxious to reach the howlers’ home, knowing what awaited him, but at the same time, he wanted this painful journey that had him hanging from a pole, to end. He would figure out what to do next, when they reached their destination.

~*~*~

“I heard a voice on the wind,” Elrohir said, cocking his head and listening intently. He then looked up and asked, “Did anyone else hear it?”

“I heard something, but I can’t say for sure it was a voice,” Aragorn answered. After hearing Elrohir define the sound as a voice, the ranger hoped it was his elven friend calling out to them. “Could it have been Legolas?”

“I do not know, Estel,” Elrohir answered and frowned when Elladan shook his head.

“I do not think so,” the elder elf commented. “It did not sound...,” he paused, searching for the right word, “elven to me. I cannot explain it any better.” His tone was almost apologetic.

“Then who could it be?” the ranger asked, clearly puzzled. “No one else is on this mountain but those howlers. It must have been Legolas calling out to us.”

“We do not know if we are alone, Estel,” Elladan said. “There may be others here besides the howlers that we know nothing about.” It didn’t seem probable, but it was possible. After all, they had seen only a small part of the mountain and traveled only a tiny piece of that.

No one commented further, because no one gave even the briefest thought that the voice could belong to a howler. If the idea had come to any of them, it would have been dismissed immediately as totally ridiculous.

“We need to keep moving,” Aragorn urged, as he started forward again, passing Elrohir and taking up the lead position.

~*~*~

It was no more than a few yards up the trail, when Aragorn stopped and bent down into a crouch, resting his weight on the balls of his feet. He put out his hand and lightly touched the snow in front of him.

Both twins dropped down beside him. “What have you found, Estel?” Elladan asked.

“Footprints. From the look of them, I would say they were made by those howlers, and there are a number of them.” He continued studying the tracks and then shook his head. “This is odd.”

“What? Elrohir asked.

“Look here,” the man, now in full ranger mode, said. “Most of the footprints are basically the same. You can see that they have trampled over each other’s tracks. That’s reasonable, if there are several traveling in a single line. But here,” he pointed again, “there are two sets that are deeper than any of the others. They cover some of the tracks and are in turn covered by others. So they must be in the middle of the line. The howlers that made these deeper tracks are carrying something heavier than just themselves.”

“Some sort of provisions perhaps,” Elladan volunteered.

“Or an elf,” Aragorn said, as he grabbed a handful of snow and threw it down. “They were down there with him. I’m convinced of it. And if they are carrying Legolas, that means he is probably injured and unconscious. He’d never let them take him otherwise. We must hurry.” There was an uncharacteristic note of panic in the man’s voice.

This time neither twin tried to offer any alternate possibilities. Their brother was probably right, and they both shared his sense of dread and urgency.

All three headed off as fast as they dared in the icy conditions. The weather seemed to be against them, though. The snow was now almost as thick in the air as the misty fog, and the trail was getting more and more treacherous.

The need to rush mixed with a dangerous path was not a good combination. Still, the three brothers did not slacken their pace. All of them knew that time was of the essence and could well be running out for Legolas.

TBC

Chapter Eight

Legolas sensed rather than actually saw darkness surround him. He opened his eyes and looked around as much as he could from his position hanging under the pole.

He groaned silently. A cave. Of course, these awful creatures had to live in a cave. He had to admit that it really made sense. Even howlers must need shelter from the more unpleasant moods of the mountain. However, the logic of that thought offered no comfort to the elf. He couldn’t get around the fact that, when all was said and done, it was still a cave.

The tunnel he found himself being carried down was low and narrow. It was just the right size to accommodate the small howlers. Had they dug this tunnel out? It didn’t seem likely. The mountain was made of solid granite, and these creatures were hardly the equal in strength to the stout dwarves whose digging of tunnels inside mountains was a way of life. These howlers probably just made good use of what they had found here.

Legolas wondered briefly, if there were other groups of howlers. Surely these were not the only ones on this very large mountain. There may even be more in this group, waiting deep inside the cave, waiting for him.

The howlers and their captive had not been traveling long, when the creatures suddenly turned toward an opening in the wall to their right. Just before crossing the threshold of this side entrance, Legolas looked down the main tunnel and caught a glimpse of a large cavern. He couldn’t see more than dancing shadows on the far stone wall cast by flickering firelight before it was lost to sight.

A few feet farther down this passageway brought them into a small rock chamber not more than a dozen feet in diameter. The rough floor slanted slightly toward the back wall. The only light source was a torch held by one of the howlers.

The two howlers holding the pole Legolas was tied to took the pole ends off of their shoulders and unceremoniously dropped their burden to the floor.

Legolas saw stars explode in his head, when it hit the hard stone below him. Then the rest of his body impacted the floor. It all hurt, but nothing caused as much pain as the searing flash of agony in his shoulder above and beyond the pain that was already there.

The elf managed to keep from crying out, but he couldn’t avoid a hiss, as he sharply drew in a breath. He thought he heard a mocking laugh from somewhere nearby, but between the dizziness he was experiencing and the pain he was trying to fight, he couldn’t be sure.

There was a flurry of chattering and then the two howlers, who had carried him, untied him from the pole but left his hands and feet firmly bound together.

The elf was grabbed and roughly dragged over to the side wall on his left. One of the howlers jerked him up into a sitting position and pushed his back against the unyielding stone. It didn’t help any that his left shoulder hit a small protrusion in the rock, causing another hiss from the elf.

The small creature then wound a rope between the elf’s wrists around the rope already there, It tied off that end and then took the other end and tied it to a metal ring embedded into the wall slightly above Legolas’s head.

Stepping back, the howler joined its friends standing in the center of the chamber and staring at Legolas with something akin to craving. Their eyes glittered and most of them were displaying their hideous teeth. Yes, craving was the perfect word to describe the look they were giving their elven captive.

The elf, refusing to let the pain he felt consume his thoughts at this point, stared back with a critical eye. All of these creatures looked exactly alike. There was no distinguishing feature about them for anyone to be able to tell them apart---except for the leader. It was a tiny bit taller than the others. Mortal vision probably couldn’t have seen the difference, however, the wood elf’s keen eyes could make that distinction rather easily.

“What do you want with me?” Legolas demanded rather harshly.

The leader took a few steps closer to the elf. “You have been told that already,” the creature’s voice, dripping with disdain, replied.

“You want to taste my flesh. Is that not that what you said?” Legolas’s own voice sounded sarcastically skeptical, not wanting to believe that what he had been told could really be true. He was certainly hoping his doubts weren’t misplaced.

The leader waved his hand at the others, and they filed out of the chamber. The one with the torch paused long enough to set it into a hole in the back wall. It then followed its companions, leaving Legolas alone with the leader, who grinned, once again displaying those horrid yellow teeth.

Legolas could have sworn that the sight of that mouth full of pointed objects made his shoulder ache even more.

“There will be guards right outside this room, so it will do you no good to even try and escape.” Without waiting for a comment, the howler walked out, leaving Legolas alone in this chamber that had now become his prison cell.

Legolas leaned his head back against the rock wall behind him, momentarily forgetting about the bump he had received, when he was dropped. The elf was quickly reminded and jerked his head forward.

What was he to do now? He tried to formulate a plan but found it increasingly difficult. Every thought came only after great concentration, but even that did not allow him to string thoughts together in proper sentences. ‘Guards outside. Does not matter. Must get out of here. Must escape, find Estel and the twins. Must warn them before...’ Before what? Legolas’s eyelids began to droop. ‘Before they are taken. Yes, that is it. Before they are taken. We must leave here.’ He paused, suddenly confused. ‘Why must we leave here? Where is here?’

The elf’s thoughts were drifting away, as the haziness in his head and the sharp throbs in his shoulder began to overtake him. He felt all of his physical energy and mental resolve wash away, as if they had been floating on a tide that was now moving farther and farther from the shore. He tried to grasp the fleeing coherence, but it probed too illusive. ’We must...’

A cloak of darkness settled over the Mirkwood prince, and then there was nothing.

~*~*~

When Legolas woke up, he slowly opened his eyes. All that greeted him was his own lap. Blinking, he raised his head. Once his vision became sharply focused, a wavering light appeared in front of his face. The elf saw that he was staring into the flame of a torch.

“You have decided to rejoin us,” came the voice of the leader of the howlers.

Legolas grimaced. He was hoping that all of this had been a dream, somewhat similar to what Estel had described to him as nightmares. Elves rarely experienced such dreams, naturally preferring to let their minds wander the paths of pleasant memories while they slept.

The elf stared at the howler in front of him. “Who are you?” he asked, not able to figure it out by sight alone. These beings were like nothing he had ever heard of before. There was certainly nothing close to them in any of the wide-ranging books he had ever read.

The howler regarded the elf curiously. It was not the same look of curiosity that was currently on Legolas‘s face. The creature had no idea who Legolas was and wouldn’t have cared, if it had. But it did know exactly what Legolas was. It was familiar with the race of elves. Rather its look reflected one in the throes of trying to make a decision.

The creature decided to let the elf suffer a bit longer, so he coolly answered, “You will have to wait for your answers.”

“Why, if you are going to kill me?”

The howler laughed. “Impatient elf. A very odd combination. I always knew elves to be the most patient creatures in Middle-earth. Since your kind is immortal and time means nothing to you, impatience is a useless emotion.”

“What does time mean to you?” Legolas asked, hoping to draw this creature into a conversation so that it might reveal some answers without realizing it.

The question surprised the howler. Laughing, it replied, “No more than it does to you.”

“So you are immortal, as well,” the elf stated. That possibility had never even occurred to him.

“It was not always so, but yes. We have all been cursed with immortality.”

“Cursed?”

A frown cross the creature’s hideous face. It showed its teeth again. “To keep living on and on with no end is most certainly a curse. Do you not find it so?”

“No, I do not,’ the elf replied firmly. ‘It is the way of the Firstborn. I have never questioned it.”

Legolas felt that he was getting close to tricking this creature into revealing who he and the other howlers were. The howler’s next words convinced him otherwise.

“I know what you are doing, elf,” the howler snarled. “I may look repulsive and therefore stupid to you, but I assure you that I am not.”

It was time to get back to being more direct. “How can my knowledge of who you are possibly harm you?”

A moment of silence followed, and then the howler said, “We were of the Drughu.”

Legolas was shocked. “You are Drúedain?”

“That is an elvish name for our kind. What you see is what happened when we opposed Morgoth. We fought him, and this is the result of losing that fight. We were turned into these creatures and sent to this forbidding mountain, never to leave it again.” The howler’s voice betrayed no emotion whatsoever. He might as well have been talking about the weather.

“You are...were...a man.” Legolas’s voice, on the other hand, was full of shocked wonder.

The howler looked at Legolas and grinned. “If you are thinking that I or any of us will become your ally, because we have been cursed by evil and wish to seek some small measure of revenge, you are greatly mistaken. What was done to us not only transformed our bodies but our minds, as well. We have no souls, no conscience, and therefore, no mercy. You will die just as I have said you would.”

Before Legolas could utter another word, the howler slammed the torch down into the hole where it had rested before and walked out of the room with parting words of warning. “Remember, there are guards, and they are not too pleased that they have not yet tasted the elf flesh they were promised.”

Legolas didn’t know if that was merely an empty and none-too-subtle threat or if it was a reminder of what was truly being planned for him. He had the feeling that the howler’s whole purpose in coming in here and waiting until he woke up was simply to reinforce the idea that he was to be killed and eaten. It was most likely a means of mental torture.

An involuntary shudder ran through the elf at the prospect of his death and in such a grisly manner, as well. He hated admitting, even to himself, that the howler’s ploy had worked.

With a resigned effort to change the subject, Legolas sat and mulled over the revelation he had just been given. These creatures were once men; men who had opposed Morgoth back in the First Age. He knew that the Drúedain had not all been cursed, at least not like these had been. The Drúedain were a dwindling race, though. Those that remained were confined primarily to the Drúadan Forest around Eilenach, one of the seven beacon hills that lay between the Gondorian capital of Minas Tirith and the kingdom of Rohan. Perhaps having a race that would probably soon die out and disappear from Middle-earth was a form of curse, though an unintended one.

Those men of long ago had not been sent here to die alone on these black granite slopes but to live for all time in their misery. Legolas couldn’t read their minds, so it was impossible to know for sure whether they were indeed miserable. From what he had seen and been told so far, they didn’t appear to be, having adapted completely to their circumstances.

Legolas shook his head both for the cruel past of these Drúedain that could not be changed and determination for his own future---if he had one. The howler leader had given him a warning. It must be heeded. He could not afford to think of these creatures as men, who might eventually befriend and then free him. They were an enemy, who wanted him dead, and they wanted to eat his flesh. No, these were definitely no longer men, and he had better keep that in mind. He dare not trust them.

No matter how intriguing the revelation was, Legolas had to turn his thoughts to other things. He became aware that his shoulder was hurting as much as ever, and he had a creeping feeling that it was not healing the way it should be. He needed to check it.

There was enough play in the rope that was tied to the ring for him to reach over and unhook the top of his tunic and the silk shirt he wore beneath it. As carefully as he could, he pushed the fabric away until the wound was exposed. He had to grit his teeth at the amount of pain this small gesture generated.

The archer stared down at the wound in utter surprise. There were two rows of puncture marks where the howler‘s teeth had penetrated his flesh. The creature had bitten down over the top of the elf’s shoulder, leaving one row in front and one in back. Even having seen the size of the howlers’ mouths, Legolas couldn’t believe how large the bite was.

He was dismayed to see the amount of swelling there was and more particularly the vivid redness all around the punctures. There were also red streaks radiating outward from each of the tiny holes left by the teeth.

Legolas had seen Aragorn suffer infections, both large and small, often enough to know that his shoulder was indeed infected. He gently placed his fingers on the area around the wound and noted that his skin was hot to the touch. That should not have been possible. His elven healing ability should have begun the healing process long before that would have had time to occur.

Since there was nothing he could do about what was happening to his shoulder, Legolas pulled his shirt and tunic back into place and took a deep breath. How could this happen? The two possibilities came to him as soon as the question was formed. Either the howler blood he had swallowed had somehow interfered with his inborn healing ability or the bite itself contained something that did the same thing. Neither of those possibilities was encouraging. If both were true....

Forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be on the howlers’ menu, Legolas’s only thought was that he needed to get out of here and find Estel so that the ranger could use one of his herbs to stop the infection before it could do any real harm. Estel’s infection always healed with no lasting effects, however, there was no way to know what this howler poison could do. An archer with a damaged shoulder would soon cease to be an archer at all.

There was only one thing to do. He had to somehow untie the ring rope, free his hands and feet and get past the guards without alerting any of the other howlers that were most likely down in the cavern he had seen briefly before being put in here.

Clenching his jaw tightly, Legolas reached up above his head and began trying to untie the knots in the ring rope. He had to stop several times and lower his arms to ease the pain in his shoulder. He chided himself for giving in to the pain, but he just could not help it.

Legolas had loosened the knots about half way when dizziness hit him again. ‘Please, Valar, not now,’ the elf pleaded. ‘I have to escape. I have to.’

Knowing that time was not on his side, Legolas raised his arms and continued with the knots, this time with a stronger feeling of urgency. No matter how tired his arms became or how much his shoulder protested, Legolas simply gritted his teeth harder and continued with his single-minded task.

After what seemed like ages, the rope came loose, and the elf’s arms fell down into his lap. More pain erupted, but there was no time to spend thinking about that now. He untied his feet and rose to stand but had to lean against the rock wall to steady himself. Besides a woozy head, his legs felt as if they were not strong enough to carry even his light weight.

Taking several deep breaths, the elf looked down at his hands. There was no way he was going to be able to untie them. One end of the ring rope was still tied around the knots in the rope that bound his wrists together. Even his long elven fingers could not reach the knots, and iIt would take much too long to try untying them all with his teeth.

Whatever he was going to do, he had to do with his hands bound, At least they were in front of him, although he was limber enough to pull them down behind him and over his feet, if there had been the need.

With elven stealth, Legolas crept down the short passageway to where the two howlers he had been told about stood guard. Getting the drop on them would have been much easier, if they had been standing together. Unfortunately, they were standing with one on each side of the entrance.

So much for the plan to grab the howlers together and overpower them. Now taking out one would not only alert he other, but he would have to have his back at least partly turned to it.

It was time for plan number two. The elf almost laughed. He didn’t have a plan number two. ‘Improvise,’ he instructed himself. He certainly had done that often enough. The life of a warrior, though highly structured in most cases, was true only to a certain degree. A great many situations called for decisions to be made on the fly, and that was what Legolas knew he would have to come up with now.

Thinking, however, was becoming harder for the elf to do. The fog was once again starting to take over and cloud his thoughts. It seemed that now, in his time of most need, both his body and his mind were betraying him.

Shaking his head, he forcefully pushed everything away that didn’t involve finding a way to escape this deadly situation he found himself in.

A small voice that he recognized as his own penetrated the haze. ‘Think, Greenleaf. Think, or you will not get out of here alive.’

TBC

Chapter Nine

Fighting the dizziness that threatened to stop him in his tracks, Legolas carefully moved back into the short passageway that led to the small rock chamber. There was no way he was going to overpower both of the howlers, standing guard out in the main tunnel, without alerting the others that something was going on. If that happened, he knew he was doomed.

The only thing he could think of to do was somehow get the howler guards to come to him. He decided that to do so he would have to create enough of a commotion to attract their attention but not enough to bring in anyone else. That was now plan number two.

Legolas crouched down just inside of the opening to the rock chamber. Then he began to moan and hit the wall with the palm of his hand. The smacking sound made it appear as if he was thrashing around in great distress. He was hoping that would peek the guards’ curiosity, and they would come to investigate. The trick would be to grab them both and subdue them before they could raise an alarm.

The elf moaned again, this time dismally aware that the sound and the reason behind it were all too genuine. He had to ignore the fact the rock walls were starting to tilt and spin, and his shoulder ached with an intensity that all but made his left arm useless.

Through it all, Legolas kept his eyes on the corner of the rock wall, waiting for the howler guards to appear.

The archer heard what sounded like angry chattering out in the tunnel and realized that the guards were probably discussing, if not out right arguing, over whether or not they should go in to check on their prisoner. Clearly one was saying no, and one was saying yes. He prayed that ‘yes’ would win out.

A few more moans evidently elicited a decision, and a moment later one of the black leathery creatures came through the entrance. It looked toward where the elf should have been securely tied to the wall. There was nothing there but any empty metal ring. To Legolas’s relief, the howler took several steps inside, rounding the corner slightly rather than just turning and running out.

Legolas grabbed the creature, wrapping his entire right hand around its neck and with a twist and one strong jerk, snapped its neck. He threw the limp body behind him out of sight and waited for the other guard.

When the second howler did not appear, Legolas began to get nervous. He had not heard the creature running down the tunnel to alert its companions, but perhaps he had been too busy with the first guard to notice.

The elf let out a low curse and almost missed seeing the second howler enter the room. It looked past the elf, standing right beside to him, and stared at the body of the other howler guard sprawled on the floor, its neck at an impossible angle.

When it opened its mouth to shout an alarm, Legolas had his left side turned toward the creature and so had no choice but to grab for its mouth with his left hand. The pain in his shoulder was almost unbearable, but the left-handed maneuver accomplished its goal and stopped the howler’s imminent shout. The elf then managed to grab the thing with his right hand and break its neck, as well.

Just before the howler went limp, it reached out toward Legolas and grabbed a piece of his tunic, ripping the section that covered the elf’s wound. The holes made from the teeth marks allowed the fabric to tear easily.

Legolas saw the torn piece of tunic clutched in the howler’s hand. It was stiff with dried blood and useless to him, so he believed that retrieving it would be a waste of time. If he had only known....

Tossing this howler next to its companion, Legolas crept through the passageway to the opening into the tunnel. He leaned heavily against it, trying to clear his head. He held his left arm close to him and peered out.

There was no one to be seen in either direction. Sighing in relief, he moved swiftly, silent as a shadow, toward the tunnel entrance. When he reached it, he flattened himself against the dark area just inside. He looked back down the tunnel again and saw nothing. Turning his attention outward, he saw no sign of anything moving beyond the cave but the wind-driven snow that had become almost a solid wall of white while he had been inside.

The bitter cold that hit his face served to rouse his hazy mind somewhat, and he moved off, picking his way around and between the large boulders that hid the opening to the cave.

In only a moment, the elf was lost in the swirling snow, swallowing him as if he had never existed. As with all elves, there were no footprints to act as a guide for anyone, friend or foe, who may be looking for him.

Legolas made his way among the huge rocks slowly. As long as he stayed near them, he was able to shield himself from the worst of the intense wind. Whenever he moved out into an exposed area, he was buffeted mercilessly. The weakened elf was barely able to stay on his feet.

Elves were able to withstand the cold much better than mortals. However, bitter cold, especially when the wind was high, could affect them as adversely as anyone. And to make matters worse for Legolas, his heavy cloak had been taken from him by the howlers.

It didn’t take long for the elf to start shivering. With the piece of his tunic missing, the only thing between his wounded shoulder and the elements was his torn and bloody silk shirt. The biting cold soon numbed the aching pain and replaced it with a distant, dull ache. Legolas knew that despite the letup in the pain, it meant his flesh was starting to freeze, and that was a very bad sign.

Snow was not the only thing being carried on the wind. Snatches of howls reached the elf’s keen hearing. “They have discovered I have escaped,” Legolas said aloud with dismay. “I had hoped for more time.”

The wood elf knew that this mountain, snow storm or no snow storm, had been the howlers’ home for millennia. They knew exactly the route he was taking to try and get away. He couldn’t outrun them, even in the limited visibility. He had to hide.

With a new sense of urgency, Legolas began to search for a place to go where he could avoid the howlers. He refused to think about the small chance that existed for him to do so. He renewed his determination. If they caught him, it would not be because he made it easy for them. He would fight to his last breath to save his life.

Legolas looked around him. The stretch of trail where he found himself was littered with small rocks, the tallest being no more than three feet high. “Of course,” the elf said, making the two words sound like a curse. “Where are the big boulders when I need them?” Not giving up, the elf continued to look for a secure place to hide.

He moved down the trail, scanning right and left. He had gone only a few yards, when he spotted a long, almost flat rock leaning against a huge section of the solid granite wall several feet from the trail to his left.

Bending down, he looked into the space created by the flat rock. There was a narrow space about eight feet long. Legolas knew he would have to squeeze in, but he believed he would fit. He didn’t have too much of a choice right now.

The far end of the space was blocked with snow and much too small for even his slender form to crawl through. His only chance was to enter this front end.

The archer pushed aside the snow that had also built up at this end of the little shelter. He turned around and lay down on his stomach and then wiggled backwards into the space, pushing with his good arm.

Once inside, he checked to make sure that his head was far enough back not to be seen by a casual glance this way and still have his feet well within the space. He hoped that the wind would soon deposit enough snow to cover the disturbance he had made.

The elf lay very still, almost afraid to breathe, as he heard the howls grow nearer to his position. He was sure the creatures knew this space existed, but he prayed to the Valar that it would not occur to them that he might try to hide here. Perhaps they would continue on down the trail in their search, believing he would be moving down the mountain as fast as he could, trying to get as far away from them as possible.

Despite his fear of discovery, the elf’s weakened and shivering body could not sustain consciousness any longer. He was already finding it hard to feel his feet.

The elf knew well the danger of succumbing to the desire to give in and just let his weary mind slip away into blessed oblivion. He might never wake up, if he did. The young prince tried so hard to remain aware. Unfortunately, under these circumstances, rational thought was the first thing to depart.

Thinking he would lay his head down on his good arm for just a few seconds, Legolas’s eyes closed, and he soon drifted off into mind-numbing oblivion.

~*~*~

Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir were not making as much progress as they had hoped. The swirling snow, the raging wind, the bitter cold, even the twisting trail strewn with huge boulders, all seemed to be conspiring against them.

All three of them had their cloaks wrapped tightly around them. The ranger was so miserable, he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out in these conditions.

Even the elves felt the need to protect themselves in this intensely frigid weather.

The trail twisted and turned until, rounding the base of a towering rock, the three Rivendell brothers found themselves staring at the entrance to a cave.

“Do you think those creatures have brought Legolas here?” Aragorn asked.

“It seems a logical place to bring a prisoner,” Elladan replied, eying the opening and seeing only darkness beyond it.

“It also seems a good place to make a home,” the younger elf added. “We have to check it out.”

Aragorn nodded, feeling close to relief that they would soon be out of the elements. He drew his sword and started forward cautiously. The elven twins had likewise drawn their weapons, Elladan a sword and Elrohir his bow. They were all pretty sure that they weren’t going to rescue Legolas without a fight.

Once they had entered the darkened tunnel, they were all very unhappy to find that the ceiling was so low, they all had to bend down, making their ability to fight a lot harder to do. Swinging a sword or firing an arrow while bending over was not an optimum plan of action, but they were experienced enough to know they would have to adapt to the conditions that presented themselves.

The three moved down the tunnel in their forced crouch. Long before they reached it, they saw the same thing Legolas had---firelight flickering on the rough rock walls of a large cavern.

Aragorn and the twins entered the large cavern cautiously, relieved they were finally able to stand upright. They stood in silence and surveyed the sights that greeted them.

Whatever beauty that existed within the rock formations that surrounded the three was dulled by the stench that greeted them. Rotten flesh and offal lay strewn around the stone floor. There was no doubt that this was the home of the howlers. Any thoughts that they might prove to be benign creatures, who posed no threat, was soon dispelled.

A large pit that contained a roaring fire was on the right side of the cavern. Old bones were stacked in a huge pile, stretching all the way across the wall behind it, and these bones ranged in color from beige to brown, the older the darker.

Arranged on top of the pile were numerous skulls, representing most of the races of Middle-earth. They eerily stared at the intruders with sightless eye sockets and looked as if they had been arranged to keep a watch on all that remained of the howlers’ conquests. There were also skulls lining the base of the walls all around the large room. The gruesome scene made it clear that the howlers had made quite a number of kills.

“Now we know why no one has ever returned from Black Mountain,” Aragorn commented grimly. “They are all probably right here.”

“It is not Orod Moru but its occupants that have caused such a loss of life and created such a mystery about this place.” Elladan said, still staring at the devastation around him. Such a loss indeed. It was impossible to even begin to guess how many people now called this horrid bone pile their final resting place.

"Look," Elrohir said, pointing to the pile of bones near the fire pit. He walked over and crouched down. "These bones here on the front edge look very fresh."

On closer inspection of the grisly sight both Aragorn and Elladan had to agree. These bones were stark white, still showed signs of moisture and even had bits of flesh and fresh blood on them. All of the larger ones had been cracked open to expose the marrow inside. The bones were all empty. Looking around, they saw that all of the bones had been thus stripped of their marrow.

Aragorn and the twins couldn't help feeling sorry for all the lives represented here. Being killed, who knew how horribly, dismembered and devoured was a dreadful thing to happen to anyone. ‘Other than an orc,' Aragorn thought grimly.

Along the wall opposite the entrance to the cavern lay a large pile of weaponry: swords, lances, axes, cudgels, knives, bows, shields and more. Most were rusty; a few were broken. It seemed that all the races that had ever reported missing travelers to Black Mountain had weapons of those races piled here.

The man turned away in dismay, and had taken only a few steps, when he spotted something on the floor. Reaching down, he picked it up. It was a piece of cloth roughly in an oval shape about eight inches long and six inches across. The fabric was a dark green suede. Despite the blood that stained the material, the partial outline of a leaf in silver thread was plainly visible.

Aragorn stared at the cloth. It had been torn from a Mirkwood tunic. Legolas's tunic. The ranger was as sure of that fact as he was of his own name.

How could a piece of Legolas's tunic end up here in this cavern? He looked toward the fire pit at the white bones they had just inspected. The truth hit the ranger with the same force that a falling tree would have.

Aragorn fell to his knees, still staring at the cloth he held between both of his hands. "No! Noooooooo!" He threw his head back and let out a howl of pain, grief and rage so wild and fierce it rent the air and echoed off of the surrounding rock walls. It sent shivers through the twins.

At first, Elladan and Elrohir did not believe it could have come from their brother. It didn't even sound human. In fact, they had turned to the cavern entrance, fully expecting to see a horde of screaming howlers charging toward them. The entrance was empty.

When they finally realized that the deep, wrenching sobs they heard were coming from Estel, they both ran to him and sank down on each side of him. By the time they had reached him, he had pressed the bloodstained cloth to his forehead and was rocking back and forth.

"Estel, what is wrong?" Elladan asked almost breathlessly. He was terrified of what might have befallen his youngest brother. The fact that Aragorn was on his knees added to his fear.

Seeing the bloody cloth, Elladan frowned. He gently took hold of it and pulled it free of his brother's hands, which were now virtually numb and offered no resistance. The elder twin's eyes went wide, as he stared at the fabric. He clearly recognized it and looked across Aragorn to Elrohir with an expression of shock and horror.

The youngest twin met his elven brother’s eyes and then turned to stare back over his shoulder toward the fire pit. Only it wasn't the fire he was looking at. When he turned back to look at Elladan, he shook his head. "By the Valar, no." In contrast to Estel's scream, Elrohir's words were whispered, though they held just as much agony. He continued shaking his head in disbelief.

Elladan’s mind was so traumatized he could barely breathe. It couldn't be true. It was too horrific a thing to even consider. This whole scene had to be an illusion, and he was desperately hoping it would soon melt away, just as a fog evaporates before the advance of bright sunshine.

Aragorn had sat back onto his heels and continued to sob, his head down, his hands now covering his face.

The twins, at the same instant, leaned their heads down and rested their foreheads against the side of their youngest brother's head. They each stretched one arm around behind Estel's back and one across the front and grasped each other, holding the human inside their strong grip.

For a long time, the three brothers stayed in that position and wept for their lost friend.

TBC

Chapter Ten

It was long moments before Elladan finally lifted his head. He hated to break the connection he held with his brothers, but the practicality of the situation forced him to pull back. He blinked his tears away and looked at Elrohir, who returned the look with tear-filled eyes of his own, when he felt Elladan‘s grip loosen.

Both the elves looked at Aragorn. “Estel,” Elladan began, “we cannot stay here.”

“We do not know when those creatures will return, and put us all in danger.”

The man reluctantly nodded. He didn’t think he could pull himself to his feet, feeling physically drained by the emotions that had overcome him. He couldn’t bring himself to speak just yet either. He simply held his arms out to the side and waited for Elladan and Elrohir to help him up. It took several moments for all three brothers to gain their feet. Just before rising, Aragorn saw the piece of Legolas’s tunic lying on the floor beside him. He picked it up with a trembling hand and tucked it into one of his pockets.

The ranger watched as Elrohir walked over to the pile of weapons. The elf moved around to the back and knelt down. He couldn’t be seen but there was a scrape of metal and a slight shift in the back section of the pile.

When Aragorn asked, “Elrohir, what are you doing?” the younger twin said, “I...I found them.”

“Found what?” his older brother asked.

Standing up, Elrohir walked back around the pile and headed toward the two, who waited silently for him, puzzled expressions on their faces.

A moan escaped Aragorn, as he saw the two objects in his brother’s hands. He reached ou and took them, staring down at them in total dismay. They were Legolas’s twin long knives. If the man had had any doubts about Legolas’s ultimate fate before, he certainly had none now. “He would never give these up willingly. His father gave them to him the day he became a warrior.”

“I know,” Elladan whispered, as he also stared down at the intricately engraved blades with their ivory handles. With a deep sigh, he asked, “Did you not see Legolas’s bow and quiver?”

Elrohir shook his head. His throat was so constricted with renewed emotion, he couldn’t speak. Sure that Legolas’s weapons would have been the last ones tossed onto the pile, he hasn’t even tried to look underneath anything.

Aragorn looked once more at the awful array of bones on the other side of the cavern before turning his back on them for good. Whatever part of Legolas that lay there would be left there. He hated the idea of leaving his friend’s bones in this horrid place, but he honestly didn’t think he would be able to separate them from any of the other fresh, white bones they had found. All of them had been disfigured too much in the howlers’ attempts to get at the marrow inside to truly tell what race they belonged to. Taking home bones that may later prove to be something else entirely, made him shudder.

If he had had the ability, the man would have taken all of the bones, skulls included, back to their kin, wherever in Middle-earth they resided. But, of course, that wasn’t possible.

All of these beings had met the same fate, so their earthly remains would rest here---together. It was only an abstract kind of comfort that Legolas would not be left alone.

Another low moan escaped Aragorn, as these thoughts ran through his mind. He should never have to he thinking such dreadful things. How did this all happen? The ranger stood motionless. He knew exactly how it had happened. “I killed him.”

Elrohir turned to face the man. “You did no such thing, Estel. The howlers killed Legolas.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but wasn’t very successful.

“He didn’t want to come here,” Aragorn continued, as if he hadn’t heard a word Elrohir said. “He argued against it, but I wouldn‘t listen. I never do. In the end, he came because I asked him to. If he had stayed home like his father wanted him to, he would still be alive. Don’t you see? It was me that killed him.”

“No, you did not,” both twins said at the same time.

Aragorn knew exactly what they were thinking. “You will never be able to convince me that I am not responsible for what happened to Legolas, so please do not even try.”

“Legolas made up his own mind, Estel. You know he never does---did---anything he did not really want to do,” Elladan said gently, unable to stop himself from trying to reason with his brother. He was not sure if he should have converted the word ‘does’ to past tense. He almost winced as he did it.

“You’re wrong, Elladan. Legolas often made allowances for me because of our friendship. He went along with many of my ideas and did things he never would have done, if he had not been with me. I was always so sure of myself, always so sure I was right, believing that everything would always turn out exactly the way I planned it. I never dreamed my arrogance would cost Legolas his life.”

Elladan and Elrohir both knew from experience that trying to reason with their human brother any further, when he was in the grip of extreme guilt, was an act of pure futility. He never listened to anyone at such times. They would just have to wait until the sharp pain of loss lessened enough for their words of wisdom to penetrate the man’s emotional turmoil.

Thinking he was in for more attempts to argue from his brothers and not wanting to hear any more, the man walked off toward the tunnel, putting Legolas‘s long knives in his quiver beside his small hunting bow. “I’m going home,” he declared firmly. Then he suddenly stopped short and the twins, who had not yet moved, waited to see why.

With his back still to his brothers and his head turned slightly to the side, he corrected himself. “No. I can’t go home just yet. I have to go to Mirkwood and tell King Thranduil that he was right all along. I was the worst friend his son could ever have had. And if I am very, very lucky, he will make my death a swift one.”

The idea that Thranduil would make the ranger pay for his youngest son’s death with his life was not as farfetched as it might have sounded. And right then, Aragorn’s mind was so mired in grief and guilt that he felt such a fate was totally deserved.

“Estel,...” Elladan began, but the man ignored him and resumed walking toward the tunnel.

With a sigh, the Rivendell elves followed. It was a very somber trio that left the cave a few moments later.

A silent world greeted them, as they emerged from the cave entrance. The wind had completely died away. The snow was falling as thick as ever, but it drifted straight down. The air, though still very cold, no longer had a bitter bite to it without the wind. What had been a blizzard was now simply a heavy snowfall. Only the two elves even noticed.

As they made their way down the trail from the howlers’ cave, Elladan glanced to his left. He spotted a large rock that he noted only because it was long and flat, and lying on its side at a slight angle, having most likely fallen over at some point in time. It looked so out of place, contrasting sharply with the tall jagged rocks all around it.

Though snow-covered, there was nothing else but the shape and position of this rock to mark it from its neighbors, so the elf turned his attention back to the trail, completely unaware that he and his brothers were passing within a few feet of the dying friend they already thought they had lost forever.

Likewise, Legolas was totally oblivious to the fact that his friends were passing him by.

~*~*~

When Legolas finally opened his eyes, he believed that he had only been resting for a few seconds, which had been his intention.

Lifting his head and turning it forward to look out of his little shelter, he was shocked to see that the small entrance was completely blocked with snow. ’How did that happen so fast?’ he wondered. The truth soon dawned on him. ‘Did I really fall asleep?’ It appeared that he had. The elf’s head dropped in relief that he had not fallen into the kind of deep sleep that would have stolen his life from him. ‘I must stay awake.’

The next thought that entered his mind was that he didn‘t feel cold anymore. He certainly wasn’t shivering. It was true that he was no longer in the freezing wind, but he should still have been cold. And he was not. In fact, he was very warm, despite being surrounded by cold stone.

Lying very still and concentrating his senses on his body, he took stock of what it was telling him. It didn’t take long for it to tell him the answer: he had fever. Unchecked infection led to fever. Time spent with Aragorn had taught him that, as well.

The man had told him more than once of mortals, who had died from serious infections that had progressed too far and couldn’t be reversed. The human healer had explained that the poison such infections produced could quickly gain enough strength to stop the heart. That had been a very sobering concept for an elf to accept. And being an elf, Legolas had never believed it could happen to him.

It was obviously the heat the fever produced that kept him from freezing to death while he slept. At the same time, the fever meant the infection was both worse and spreading. At first, Legolas had no idea which one he should feel grateful for, but upon further thought he realized that staving off freezing to death would have been the more immediate concern.

Continuing his assessment, Legolas could feel sweat soaking into his clothes. Again it was only the high heat of his body that now kept the sweat from freezing and thus encasing him in cold, stiff clothing.

The elf took a shaky breath. His fever had helped him in two ways, but he was far from free of the danger of dying, and he knew it.

Facing death at the hands of an enemy was part of being a warrior. He had done it more times than he could count. Facing death surrounded by stone and suffering from a condition he should not even have been susceptible to, sent a kind of fear through the prince that he couldn’t remember experiencing since he was a very small elfling and had seen his first giant spider---up close.

He knew he needed to find his friends. Surely, Estel would have athelas or some other herb with which to treat the infection. ‘But I do not want to attract the howlers to them.’ His mind was still too hazy to realize that Aragorn and the twins were most likely being stalked by the howlers, if they had not been caught by them already.

The elf tried to slow his pounding heart, knowing that the poison of infection would act even faster, if he couldn’t gain control of this accelerated heartbeat.

Legolas lay his forehead down on his arm, only this time he was too keyed up to be in any danger of falling asleep again. Like an out-of-control river flooding its banks, naked fear spread through his mind.

The cold that had caused the numbness in his shoulder had departed with the arrival of the fever Lying still had kept the pain pretty much at bay. However, when an involuntary tremor violently shook his body, his shoulder screamed its protest at the movement, and a sharp stab of agony hit him yet again. Surprised at the sudden intensity of the searing pain, Legolas couldn’t help crying out. He quickly put his right hand over his mouth, but by then it was much too late.

~*~*~

“What was that?” Elladan said, stopping and turning to look back up the trail they had just traveled down.

Elrohir looked at his older brother. “I am sure I also heard something. It sounded like a faraway cry of pain.”

Aragorn turned back toward his brothers, when he realized that they had stopped. “Perhaps it was one of the howlers,” the man said with a bitter tone of satisfaction that one of the creatures, who had killed his best friend, would now be suffering.

The ranger’s mind had been in a fog ever since he had discovered the torn and bloodstained piece of Legolas’s tunic in the cavern. Now his ranger training was coming to the fore. A broken heart he may have, but he knew he and the twins still had to make it off of this accursed mountain.

Elladan shook his head. “I do not think it is a howler. A wounded animal perhaps,” he suggested. He held his hand up. “Listen.”

Even knowing the two elves would have a much better chance of hearing any sounds that might make themselves known, Aragorn nonetheless strained to listen. He wanted to hear for himself whatever Elladan and Elrohir had heard.

The heavily falling snow muffled whatever sounds that might ordinarily have been picked up by the elves’ sensitive ears. Now there was nothing but the whisper of tiny ice crystals hitting each other as they fell.

“It’s nothing,” Aragorn said with obvious disappointment. The idea that it might have been Legolas never occurred to him. As painful as it was to do, the ranger had completely accepted the elf’s death.

Aragorn thought that perhaps it was some other unfortunate prey of the howlers. There was no way to know what other creatures either inhabited the mountain or had wandered upon it. “Let’s leave before the howlers show up and do to us what they did...” He couldn’t finish the thought much less say the words.

After a few more seconds of intense concentration, Elladan said, “You are right, Estel. It is nothing.” He nodded to Elrohir, and the two elves followed behind their foster brother.

None of the three saw or felt the intense gaze of the howlers that were grouped on top of the nearby rocks. The leader stared at the retreating backs of the intruders. He had no intention of letting them escape. He had hoped that they, the elves at least, would have been able to find the golden-haired elf. Having all four together would have been much easier.

The howler was so angry that such had not been the case that he decided to let the three descend to the edge of the snow line before capturing them. “Let them think they have escaped us.” It was a cruel form of revenge, and the howler delighted in it.

Turning to the rest of the group, the howler barked his orders, sending half of them to continue the search for the wayward elf and the rest to go by another route to the snow line and wait for the human and his two elven companions. They were then to be taken to the cavern.

There was no question that the golden-haired one would be found eventually, but the howler leader knew the poison that was now coursing through the elf. The elusive being had managed to conceal himself well, and it would take a concerted search to find him, another thing that angered the creature. But the elf must be found alive or there was no point in finding him at all, because except for the marrow left in the bones, howlers did not eat dead meat.

TBC

Chapter Eleven

Forcefully pushing his fear into the background, Legolas lifted his head once again and tried to think. He knew if he stayed here, he would die. There was no amount of speculation that could bring him to any other rational conclusion. He did not want to die lying inside what amounted to a tomb of stone. This was the preferred place for a dwarf, and that alone made it the worst possible place for an elf to meet his end.

The archer didn’t know how much the howlers would make him suffer before they killed him, but he couldn’t imagine it being any worse than what he was going through right now. If he had only known that those dreadful creatures preferred to eat their meat while it was still alive, he would probably have stayed right where he was, gone back to sleep and drifted quietly away toward the Halls of Mandos.

As it was, he made up his mind to leave this hole and take his chances out on the trail. So deciding, Legolas pulled himself closer to the snow-blocked entrance and reached forward.

Punching a hole in the snow, he breathed deeply of the fresh air. He was surprised to note that there was no longer any wind. He should have heard the surrounding silence before, but he had not. His warrior’s heart was dismayed at that revelation. Such a lack of perception of what was around him could have proven fatal in times of war. And was this not a war? He shook his head, and keeping his left arm down by his side, he continued to clear away the snow with his right hand.

He pulled himself forward until his head was even with the small opening. Reaching out so that he could once again pull his body forward, he saw two pairs of hands grab his arm.

For just an instant, his heart soared, thinking it was Estel and the twins, who had somehow found him. That exhilarating hope was soon dashed, when his eyes settled on the black bony fingers gripping his right arm. He tried to yank it free of the horrid creatures’ grip but couldn’t manage it. They, in turn, roughly jerked his body out of its hiding place and deposited him unceremoniously on the ground.

The howler that stood directly in front of him grinned widely, exposing its jagged, yellow teeth. There was no mistaking the look of triumph on its hideous face. The prize had been discovered and recaptured.

A howl soon erupted from the creature’s throat when it threw its head back. It was a call to alert the leader that the missing elf had been found. Once the sound died away, the howler again looked at Legolas and grinned. It was clearly enjoying the elf’s look of dismay.

Legolas wondered for the second time how such a deep, resonant tone could come from such a scrawny being. He supposed it somehow came about as part of the curse Morgoth had put on these Drughu, just as he had evidently given them the ability to withstand the bitter cold while having no fat or even clothes on their spindly bodies.

Interesting as this speculation was, Legolas had a much bigger problem to solve than these little mysteries. He had to try to concentrate on finding a way out of this current mess. He knew that once he reached the cave, he would never leave it again. Having allowed his escape once, the howlers would never be so lax again. Legolas had to get away while they were still outside.

The virtual impossibility of accomplishing that task struck home to him, when he tried to stand up. His quivering legs would not hold him, and he fell to his knees.

“Get up, elf,” an angry voice said, as the leader walked up behind him. The creature grabbed a handful of golden hair and pulled the elf’s head backwards. “You have been the cause of too much trouble. That will no longer be tolerated.”

To reiterate his determination to subdue Legolas, the creature walked around in front of him, balled its bony fist and punched the elf in the left shoulder.

Legolas’s scream of agony rang out across the mountainside. No amount of pride could have kept the elven prince silent during such an excruciating explosion of agony. Legolas fell to the snow-covered ground, his mind reeling, and his body beginning to spasm.

Unimpressed and uncaring, the howler bent low. “Get up,” it demanded. “I know elves can handle a great deal of pain. You do not fool me.”

The only reaction the creature received from Legolas was the jerking of his body and a series of moans. The words being directed at the elf were meaningless. All he knew was blinding agony.

Whether the elf was faking or not didn’t matter. The howler had lost whatever patience it possessed. “Take him,” it commanded to the two creatures nearest the wood elf.

The two howlers, who had been the ones to pull Legolas from his hiding place, grabbed him by his left arm and began to drag him up the trail toward the cave.

The new agony that was now added from being pulled by his left arm was too much for the weakened elf’s inner strength to handle. Mercifully, he passed out.

~*~*~

“That’s no wounded animal,” Aragorn said, as he turned back to look toward the slopes above him. The sound that had reached them through the driving snow, though muffled, was plain enough for even the human’s mortal ears to interpret.

Elladan approached his foster brother and put his hand on the man‘s shoulder. “Estel, I know what you are thinking, but we cannot go back. We have escaped the howlers once. We would not be that lucky a second time.”

Aragorn knew Elladan was right, yet he couldn’t just dismiss the obvious distress he heard. “Wouldn’t the two of you try to save someone in such dire straits from those horrid beasts?”

“Estel, you have a good heart, a healer‘s heart,” Elrohir said, “but you cannot save everyone.”

Elladan continued the argument. “We cannot save anyone, if we end up being killed ourselves. You know this.”

“What I know is that I can’t turn my back on someone who needs my help. I’m sure that what we heard was not an animal. It was...someone.”

When he saw the doubt in his brothers’ eyes, he redoubled his effort to convince them that his cause was a just one. "Suppose that was Legolas---or me---and someone else heard what we just heard and they simply turned their back and walked away, leaving us to what I’m sure is a horrible fate. How would you feel then?"

Knowing someone else may have had the chance to save one or both of them and refused to do so would have been devastating to the twins. And now, having the chance to keep another family from experiencing that same kind of devastation, could they simply walk away?

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other. Both sighed and shook their heads in defeat at the same time, the dreadful choice pulling at their hearts. “You are going to go back and attempt a rescue, are you not?” Elladan asked, knowing full well what the answer would be but for some reason needing to hear it anyway.

“I couldn’t live with myself, if I didn’t at least try. I owe that much to Legolas. I couldn‘t save him, but maybe I can save whoever it is up there from dying as he did.” Aragorn’s heart clenched at those last four words. They were so hard to say, so hard to accept.

The elves knew the matter had been decided. Estel was going to attempt a rescue and no amount of talking would change his mind. They could not---would not---let him go alone. They also could not bring themselves to mention that it was just this kind of steadfast belief that he was right that he himself had said made him responsible for Legolas’s death. And lastly they had to answer their own internal question: no, even if Estel had not been with them, they could not have simply walked away.

“Let us go, then,” Elladan said, as he turned and started back up the trail. His face was grim. He prayed to the Valar that they weren’t all walking straight into the same kind of fate that Legolas had suffered.

They hadn’t taken more than ten steps, when the mountain gave a low rumble, soon growing in intensity until it sounded like the deep-throated growl of a huge bear, though this was many times louder and, if possible, more fierce. Then everything began to shake violently.

“What in Arda?” Elrohir said, as he grabbed hold of Elladan’s shoulder to steady himself. It helped only partly, since Elladan was having trouble keeping his own feet under him.

There was no solid ground beneath the brothers, and so none of them could keep their balance, slipping and sliding on the icy snow. In less than half a minute, all three lay in a tangled heap.

Near them, two large rocks toppled over, their huge bulk slamming with a muffled thud into the thick snow piled up across the trail. One boulder had been shaken loosed from its foundation and thrown down, as if it had been pushed aside by some gigantic invisible hand. The other one simply sheared off a foot above the ground, slid forward until it teetered and then crashed into the first rock as it went down.

The brothers, unable to untangle themselves while the ground still shook, had no choice but to wait for the mountain to come to a stop.

They resembled, not to mention felt like, dry beans bouncing around on a hot skillet. Despite the danger they were in and with snow being thrown forcefully into his face, Aragorn laughed to himself. If only they had some of the heat from that imaginary pan to counteract the biting cold that continually made its way inside his clothes.

When the mountain finally stopped its violent quaking and the rumbling died away like a retreating thunderstorm, the brothers looked at each other and smiled, realizing how lucky they had been not to have had those boulders fall over on top of them. There would have been no chance to get out of the way.

The ground was still settling, so it was with a concerted effort that the ranger and the two elven warriors gained their feet and managed to stay upright. The minor tremors made walking too precarious just yet, so the trio stood and held onto each other.

Aragorn remembered the talk that had led to his wanting to come here in the first place. There were tales of howling and rumbling on the mountain. ‘Well, now we know that those stories were true.’ The realization that he hadn’t been led here by false rumors made no difference to him. He had lost too much for that to offer his broken heart even the slightest bit of comfort.

~*~*~

Much higher up on the snowy slopes, while the mountain was still convulsing, the howlers were also having trouble standing up, even though they had been living with these earth-shaking episodes for centuries.

The two creatures that had been dragging Legolas let go of him at the first hint of the shaking event to come. They ran immediately over to the boulders nearest them and reached as far around them for support as they could manage.

They had developed the ability to tell the difference between a rock that merely shook from one about to fall over. The howlers were agile enough to get out of the way should they detect one about to shift its position. Like the human and the two elves far below them, they also would have had a difficult time escaping falling rocks had they been lying flat on their backs.

Legolas, still unconscious, lay sprawled in the middle of the trail, his face turned sideways and half buried in the snow. His body rolled from side to side, in turn lifting his face out of the snow and then forcing it deeper into the tiny white crystals.

He was soon bounced onto his left side. The reaction was immediate. He moaned loudly and then flung himself over onto his back. It was strictly a reflexive action to get away from the pain. It was only marginally helpful, because the bouncing itself caused pain.

Knowing he could not escape them, the howlers ignored him, too intent on keeping themselves safe to worry about the elf. It was a futile effort for two of them. A boulder behind them fell over and crushed them between it and the one they were holding onto. They didn’t even have time to scream.

A few drops of black blood stained the pristine snow, but that was all there was to indicate what had happened.

Another boulder, larger than the one that had just killed the two howlers, broke loose and started falling across the trail, heading straight for the prone elf, who was totally oblivious to the fact that he was about to be crushed beneath a ton of falling rock.

TBC

Chapter Twelve

As luck would have it, the rock that was rapidly descending straight down toward Legolas, lying unconscious on the ground, instead hit the top of a short rounded stone on the other side of the trail. It brought the toppling rock to a sudden stop a mere six inches above Legolas’s face and chest.

All was not well, however. The fallen boulder continued to vibrate in tune with the shaking mountain. It scraped back and forth on the smaller rock and threatened to fall to one side of it or the other. If it sipped off to the left, it would slam onto the ground and kill Legolas where he lay. If it slipped to the right, it would be wedged into a small crevice created by the round rock and an upright boulder next to it, thus remaining safely above the elf. Only Eru knew which way the boulder would go.

It was then the mountain began to slow its movements. The boulder, hanging precariously over Legolas, also slowed its pitching and grinding and remained balanced on top of the round rock. Had the elf been aware, he would have heaved a huge sigh of relief.

When the mountain made one final shudder before coming to a complete stop, the fallen boulder slid to the right, anchoring itself in the crevice. In doing so, it had dropped another five inches, almost grazing the elf‘s nose.

As a hushed stillness swept over Orod Moru, the howlers gradually released their hold on the standing rocks and gathered themselves into a small group. They looked around for their leader, momentarily worried that it may have met its death among the shifting stones.

The leader soon emerged and bent down to examine the spots of black blood in the snow. These Drughu had been transformed by Morgoth into beings possessing immortality, but like elves, they could be killed.

These creatures cared nothing for one another in the traditional sense. They felt no love, no friendship, no grief and no sorrow. They just knew that the larger their numbers, the more successful they were at surviving.

Over the centuries, various accidents had claimed the lives of many of the creatures. Most of those had died in the early years before they learned first to survive and then to rule Bl;ack Mountain. Now two more were gone. Due to the nature of their creation, those that died were not being replaced. What was lost, stayed lost, and their numbers were dwindling.

The leader let out a curse at whatever gods were responsible for taking more of their number. It would have been furious, if it had been aware of what had befallen the other half of the group.

Those creatures, who had been sent to the snow line to await Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir had jumped down onto the narrow ledge that Legolas had fallen onto earlier. They were hoping to work their way along, unseen, and get ahead of the trio to surprise them.

The howlers did possess the ability to feel a kind of cruel enjoyment of what they did to their captive prey. Seeing the shocked faces of the three they were after now would have been most enjoyable. Taunting them all the way back up to the cave with remarks about what was about to happen to them would have been even more enjoyable.

The howlers’ plans were interrupted, as the mountain had begun shaking. Then a large section of the lower ledge had broken loose and fallen away, taking with it all but two of the howlers that were walking along it. Those two had grabbed on to scant handholds, as the rock ledge disappeared below their feet.

After several moments of struggling to gain their footing, the hold of one creature gave way. It stared in horror at the broken-off piece of stone it clutched in its right hand, as it plunged after the falling ledge to its death on the rock-strewn slopes hundreds of feet below.

The other creature finally managed to make its way up the cliff face. Crawling over the lip of the ledge above, it lay quivering in the snow, trying to gather its strength. After doing so, it would go to inform its leader of what had happened.

Far above, the leader came and stood with the other howlers in this half of the group. It wanted to blame someone for what had occurred, but even it understood dumb luck. Only this unfathomable mood of the mountain was responsible.

The leader looked down at the fallen boulder that lay across the path. Due to the shifting snow that had piled up all around the large rock, it looked as if the boulder had crushed the elf. His snow-covered legs were sticking out, but the rest of him was buried beneath the stone‘s gigantic weight.

Realizing that even if the elf could have been pulled out from under the stone, he would be dead meat and of no use to the howlers as a meal. The howl of frustration and anger that emanated from the leader was soon echoed by the other creatures, as they, too, came to understand that their golden prize was now lost to them.

The leader continued to stare at the rock, as the falling snow gathered upon it. “Curse you, elf,” the creature snarled. It didn’t seem to remember, or perhaps it didn’t care, that it was two of its own that had dropped the elf in the path of the boulder. Even if they could not partake of the elf’s flesh the way they had hoped, he at least hadn’t survive to escape the mountain. It wasn’t much of a consolation right then, but it was better than nothing. “Curse your elven soul.”

With a resignation borne of many years living on the unpredictable mountain, the leader turned and headed for the cave. It knew from past experience that the bones and skulls carefully arranged inside of the cavern would be scattered about in total disarray and would need to be rearranged back to where they all belonged. The hideous display served to remind the creatures of their superior ability to survive, when other beings had come to destroy them.

Besides, the howler thought, all was not lost. The golden-haired elf that had been the ultimate prize may have been snatched from them, but soon the rest of its group would be bringing the human and the two dark-haired elves to the cavern. Their flesh may not have been considered quite as sweet to the howlers’ way of thinking, but that flesh would be savored nonetheless.

~*~*~

Finally finding their footing on the now solid ground, Aragorn and the twins nodded to each other. They had no idea what had happened up above or anywhere else on the mountain for that matter, but they were ready to go and find out if whoever it was they had heard cry out was still alive and able to be rescued. Perhaps the howlers were shaken up enough to give the three brothers the advantage.

The trio started upward once again. There was no mistaking the fact that the trail had been altered by the violence of the quaking. More than a couple of times they found rocks strewn across the their path, some whole and some broken, and that made it necessary to scramble over or work their way around them. A few more such violent episodes like this and the trail would disappear altogether.

Aragorn idly wondered how often this shaking happened. If the rocks were rearranged so drastically every time it happened, he could only imagine what the mountain had looked like in the beginning. Perhaps the ridges that had been formed, such as the one they were now traveling on, hadn’t existed. The mountain might have been much more rounded. Would the ridges even exist in a few centuries? Aragorn shook his head. Why was he even thinking about this at such a time? It was trivial compared to what they were planning to undertake. He turned his mind to the task at hand.

Elladan was surprised that during their trek back up the mountain, they had not encountered any of the howlers. The only look he and his brothers had had of them was the indistinct one of black shadows in the misty fog just after Legolas had fallen over the edge of the cliff.

He had no idea what they really looked like, but he had then and still had the unmistakable feeling that they would be hideous to behold. And behold them he had no doubt they would sooner or later be doing.

The fallen rocks in their path and the deep snow made traveling the trail a second time much slower than the first time they came this way. But the three brothers made their way steadily upward.

Aragorn, now in the lead, had no sooner started marching determinedly toward their goal, when he tripped over something and pitched forward. It was only his outstretched hands that kept him from slamming down face first on the large boulder stretched out across the trail. His hands did slip on the snow covering the rock, and he hit his chin lightly on the stone before he could stop his forward progress.

The ranger sat down and rubbed this chin, as both of his brothers knelt down beside him.

“Estel, are you all right?” Elladan asked.

“I think so,” the man replied, still rubbing his affected body part. It had all happened so fast that the man was more surprised than anything, though his chin did hurt a bit.

When no worried inquiry of reassurance came from Elrohir, which was unusual, Aragorn and Elladan looked at him. The younger elf was staring down at the ground. His eyes were wide, and then he began swiping at the snow with both hands like a dog trying to dig up a bone.

~*~*~

When Legolas opened his eyes, he had to blink several times to get them to focus. All he saw was darkness, but it seemed close, like it was hovering right in front of his eyes. He tried to raise his right arm so that he could rub his eyes and try to bring back some semblance of vision. The back of his hand hit something hard. He turned his hand over and lifted his palm until his fingers encountered the hard surface.

Moving his hand up and down, it dawned on him that what he was feeling was stone. His hand soon made its way up to his face, and he found that the stone was only about an inch above his nose. No wonder it seemed so close. He closed his eyes again.

He thought back to the place where he had hidden after escaping from the cave. He tried to recall the details of that place. It had been under a fallen rock. That part was right. But... Hadn’t it been a bit roomier? And had’t he been on his stomach? How did he end up on his back with the fallen rock so uncomfortably close to crushing him?

He couldn’t think clearly. His shoulder was hurting more than he remembered it doing while in his hiding shelter, and there was something else, too, wasn’t there? He screwed his face up into a frown. Oh yes. He had fever---from infection. Yes, that was it. Things were beginning to come back to him, although he still couldn’t quite figure out how he ended up in the position he was in.

Had the howlers given up looking for him? Surely not. He imagined they were exceedingly angry at him for escaping. They did not seem like the kind of creatures that would give up so easily. They had made it quite clear to him how important they thought he was to them. The archer imagined they would keep looking until he was discovered.

Maybe they had found him and were just waiting for him to come out so they could pounce on him. Did they know how much elves hated being surrounded so closely by stone? Was this their way of making him pay for getting loosed and killing the two creatures, who had been charged with guarding him?

The elf was not prone to panic, but the idea that they may be waiting him out until he crawled screaming from the oppression of being under the rock was almost too much to handle. He took several deep breaths, both hearing and feeling his cold breath against the rock hovering right above him.

‘I must get out of here.’ It then occurred to him that he had said that before. In the cave? Yes, but somewhere else, as well. The truth hit him. He had gotten out of his hiding place---and been captured! The agony of his injured and infected shoulder had driven him into the arms of oblivion. So where was he now? And where were the howlers, who had recaptured him?

Those questions were making him dizzy. His mind was in no condition for rational thinking. Besides, there was really only one question he needed to figure out the answer to. What did he do now?

Legolas may have tried to sort out the answer to that all important question for a moment or an hour. He couldn’t be sure which. He only knew that no solution seemed to be at hand.

The prince’s confused thoughts were interrupted, when he felt something hit his left foot. Thinking it was one or more howlers toying with him, he kept quiet. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of knowing they had come upon an elf unaware and startled him. He’d simply wait them out. If they wanted him, they would have to drag him out just as they had done before. He prayed to the Valar that he would not panic and disgrace himself before that happened.

TBC

Chapter Thirteen

Aragorn looked behind him and knew immediately that it was the foot of a person that he had tripped over and that Elrohir was now digging out of the snow. This had to be the one they had heard crying out, the one they had come to rescue---too late from the looks of it.

The man’s eyes followed the line of the legs to the boulder that covered the rest of the person. Snow kept him from actually seeing the stone lying across the body, and Aragorn was grateful for that. He didn’t want nor need to see the crushing damage that such a weight had done to flesh and bone.

Despite the fact that rescue had proven futile, Aragorn did not regret the attempt, because he could, at the very least, live with himself for having tried, even if the person’s life had been lost. He heaved a great sigh of regret for whomever it was lying here in what would be his final resting place, since there was no possible way to get him out from under the heavy boulder. Where could they have possibly buried him in any case?

As Aragorn stared at the now exposed boot, a nagging feeling of recognition began to work its way into his mind. This boot definitely looked familiar. He didn’t understand how or why, but that didn’t change the fact that it did.

He turned his head to look at Elladan, when the older twin, himself staring at the boot, drew in a sharp breath. “By the Valar...” It was obvious that his recognition went one step further; he seemed to know exactly who it belonged to.

“It cannot be,” Elrohir said, echoing the same level of recognition as his older brother.

As the twins looked at one another, both said the same thing at the same time. “Legolas.”

The ranger stood totally stunned. His first thought was that they were trying to fool him with one of their patented jokes. His mind rejected that idea immediately. His brothers could often be relentless pranksters, but they would never do such a cruel thing to him. If they were now saying this was Legolas, it must be. But was that even possible?

Aragorn couldn’t speak or move and was only barely able to breathe. He stared wide-eyed, afraid that if he did anything more than that, the hope that this was indeed his dearest friend would shatter into a million pieces. But isn’t that exactly what was about to happen?

The man’s mind reeled. Had Legolas somehow escaped from the cavern only to be killed by a falling rock out here on the trail? Had he come so close to getting away from the howlers and finding his friends only to end up here---like this? Aragorn’s chest began to constrict.

Elladan knelt down near the edge of the rock and began clearing away the snow piled up against it. He slid his hand between the bottom side of the boulder and the body of the one he now believed to be the youngest Prince of Mirkwood.

“There is space here,” the elder elf said almost breathlessly. “He is not crushed.” He felt obliged to add, “At least not on this side.” The implication was clear, but he couldn’t put into words what each of them feared.

Elladan’s words of hope finally broke Aragorn out of his immobilizing stupor, and the man leapt to his feet and vaulted over the boulder, sliding to his knees on the other side. He began to dig frantically through the snow at the spot along the rock where he believed Legolas’s head should be.

When enough snow had been cleared, like Elladan, he slipped his hand under the boulder to see if there was any space there to indicate that the elven prince may have survived the fallen rock. He didn’t know what he would do, if he felt...

The ranger took a deep breath and held it, as his hand slid farther under the rock. It soon came in contact with something, and he gripped it tightly. What he felt in his grasp was hair. With his hand now trembling, Aragorn pulled it toward him and found himself staring down at the silken strands of gold that he realized his heart had been begging he would see. “Legolas,” he whispered with the exhale of his breath.

The man looked up to see both of his brothers staring at him from the other side of the rock. There was hope shining in their eyes, as well. They couldn’t see the hair in their brother’s hand, but they had heard him say the wood elf’s name.

“Is he alive?” Elladan asked with a mixture of anxiety and trepidation in his voice.

Aragorn started to shake his head, meaning he didn’t know, but then realized that doing so would make the twins think he was indicating that Legolas was not alive. Fortunately, he stopped himself in time and instead just shrugged. He bent forward again to find out the answer to that all-important question.

Aragorn reached under the rock again. When he touched the elf’s head, he moved his hand around to try and reach the elf’s neck to feel for a pulse. He never got the chance.

Feeling a hand moving over his head, Legolas jerked away from it as far as he could in the limited space he was confined to. It was partly a reflex action at the suddenness of being touched and partly that he was not going to make it easy for any of the howlers to get a good grip on him. ‘Let them come in after me.’

His anger served to clear his mind, at least temporarily, from the haziness that constantly threatened to overtake it. It had been in such a haze that had kept him form recognizing the voices of his friends. To him it had sounded like the howlers, and he had focused elsewhere to keep from hearing their evil words. He was sure those words had been taunts made to try and frighten him.

When Aragorn felt the elf move beneath his hand, he was so startled, he jerked his hand away and banged it on the rock. He was so overcome with emotion, he barely noticed. “Legolas!” the man shouted. “Speak to me!”

“Estel?” the elf asked. He could hardly believe his ears. “Is that you?”

“Yes, mellon nin, it most assuredly is.” Aragorn was so relieved that he lowered his head until his forehead was resting against the cold stone. Legolas was alive! He knew not how such a miraculous and wonderful thing could have come about, since the elf’s death at the hands of the howlers had seemed so certain, but right then, he didn’t care.

Elladan leaned down and put his lips near the space under the boulder. “Legolas, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Elladan, I hear you.”

“Can you tell if there is enough space for you to be pulled out from Estel’s side? I do not believe there is room on this side. It is very tight above your legs.”

Legolas turned his head sideways and tried to look down the length of his body. He could make out a bit of light below his hips but nothing more. “I cannot tell, but I do not think so,” came his disappointed answer.

“What about your side, Estel?” Elrohir asked his ranger brother.

Aragorn did not answer right away, and in the silence, came a plaintive plea from the trapped elf. “Please, Estel, get me out of here.” At this point, he had had all he could take of lying under large stones.

Recognizing the elf‘s desperation, Aragorn leaned down. “Hold on, Legolas. I promise we will get you out.“ That said, the ranger set his mind to figuring out just how that task was going to be accomplished.

Trying to move the boulder was completely out of the question. Even if the boulder hadn’t been so incredibly heavy, the fact it might shift and end up crushing Legolas was all too real.

Finally, Aragorn nodded to himself, as an idea came to him. “I think I might be able to reach in far enough to get my hands under your shoulders and pull you free.”

“No!” the elf yelled. “You must not do it that way.” The thought of the agony that maneuver would cause momentarily overcame Legolas’s frantic desire to get out from under the boulder.

Aragorn was taken aback by the vehemence of Legolas’s response. He didn‘t understand. His friend had just pleaded for the man to get him out, and his suggestion seemed to be the easiest and most expedient way of doing it.

“Legolas,” he called, “what’s wrong? I can’t pull you out by your hair.” There was no humor in that last remark. He was just thinking of the one part of Legolas he had been able to get a hold of.

“My shoulder is...injured.” came the obviously reluctant explanation.

Aragorn frowned. It wasn’t easy, nay it was near impossible, for the elf to admit to any kind of injury. If it was an obvious one, he simply said that it wasn‘t serious, and that he was fine. ‘It must be bad,’ the man concluded to himself.

“I will try to get my good arm up and extend it out to you, Estel” Legolas was telling him. “You will have to pull me out that way. There does not seem to be any other option.” The remarks brought the man’s attention back to the present situation.

Aragorn’s frown deepened. The elf’s voice sounded weak, and he didn‘t think it was because the archer was under a rock. He hoped that the injury Legolas mentioned was not the cause, though he could think of no other reason.

In less than a minute, the ranger saw the elf’s right hand reach out toward him. He grabbed it tightly and squeezed. It only distantly registered in his mind that the elf’s skin was not cold as would be expected, considering his current situation.

The elven prince curled his long slender fingers around his friend’s hand and returned the strong grip. The contact with the man gave a tremendous sense of relief to Legolas. Though he knew his freedom was not yet assured, he had ultimate faith in all of his friends’ ability to secure it.

Laying his feet flat to the sides in preparation for them to slide under the rock, Legolas said, ‘I am ready.”

Elladan again called to the trapped younger elf. “Legolas, lock your knees and keep your legs stiff. Elrohir and I will push your feet as far as we can. That should take some of the pressure off of your arm.” As with all elves, Legolas didn’t weigh a lot, but there was no point in risking any new injury. As an afterthought, Elladan asked, “That will not cause you harm, will it?”

“No. I have no other injuries except my shoulder. Pushing will not harm me.”

Elladan’s instructions were quickly obeyed and each twin gripped one of the prince’s feet and then nodded to Aragorn, who was watching and waiting for them to get into position.

With one last, quick squeeze of reassurance, Aragorn used his other hand to grip the elf’s arm just above the elbow. He placed both of his feet against the side of the boulder, using it as an anchor, and then began to pull in one smooth, steady motion.

Elladan and Elrohir pushed against the bottom of Legolas’s feet until their arms were at full length under the rock. As Aragorn continued to pull the elf out from his side, the twins could no longer reach Legolas’s feet and so had to give up pushing.

By the time Legolas was almost half way out, Aragorn had reached the full length of his legs. Keeping them propped against the rock was no longer of any use. He then folded his legs up and dug his heels into the snow until they were touching the thin coating of ice over the rocky trail. He banged them down several times until he could feel the heels of his boots connect with the raw stone. Believing he had the best leverage he was going to get, Aragorn began pulling again by straightening his legs out.

When the ranger finally saw Legolas’s boots clear his side of the boulder, he lay the elf’s arm down and crawled around to kneel at his side. Unable to contain the joy flooding his heart, Aragorn picked the elf up and held him against his chest. “You are truly alive.”

Since it was his uninjured right side that was against Aragorn’s chest, the elf couldn’t return the embrace, however, he did grip the man’s arm with his right hand and leaned into Aragorn with an overwhelming feeling of relief and pure happiness. He stayed just like that until Aragorn was ready to release his hold.

“We thought you dead. Killed by those creatures, “ Aragorn began to explain.

“I nearly was,” Legolas remarked, unable to stifle a shudder at the memory of the howler leader’s words of what his fate was to be.

Gradually, Aragorn’s grip on his dearest friend loosened.

When Legolas was finally able to sit upright, Elladan and Elrohir were right there beside him. Neither could resist touching him to reassure themselves that who they thought they were looking at was really there.

“How?” was all Elrohir could manage to say, his face warring between joy and confusion.

Elladan’s heart was also filled with elation, yet he was frowning. “We will have to learn the details later. Right now, we must find some kind of shelter for the night. The light will be fading soon, and we must have enough of it to examine and then tend to your wound.” He was eying the younger elf’s left shoulder, wondering what had caused such an unusual injury. He could have sworn it was a bite of some sort, which made no sense to him, though at this point, he knew virtually nothing about any of the creatures that inhabited Orod Moru.

An expression of fear crossed Legolas’s face. “Where are the howlers?” He looked around, fully expecting to see those hideous creatures surrounding them and grinning with their identical rows of horrible, jagged teeth.

“We have not seen them,” Elrohir replied. “But Elladan is right. We must find shelter before we lose the light.” His primary thought was for them to help Legolas, who was obviously in need of of their aid. However, they also needed to find a shelter that would offer them some sort of protection from the howlers. He didn’t believe the creatures were going to give up and let them all leave the mountain without a fight.

Elrohir didn’t know then just how right he was.

TBC

Chapter Fourteen

Aragorn looked into Legolas’s eyes, holding back a groan, when he saw the intense pain and confusion reflected there. Understanding that walking would be a great effort for the elf, yet also understanding the prince’s pride, he forced himself to avoid sweeping Legolas up into his arms and carrying him. Instead, pushing down his own idea of what he should do, Aragorn asked, “Do you think you can walk?”

The elf’s normal inclination would have been to say yes immediately. He hated admitting to any kind of weakness, but now was not the time to let his pride rule the practicality of the situation. He realized that he was beyond that. “I do not know,” he reluctantly admitted. “I will try.”

All three of the Rivendell brothers helped Legolas to his feet. The elf swayed a bit but gathered himself and nodded. His legs were barely able to support his light weight, but he was determined to make them carry him wherever he and his friends needed to go.

The ranger knew that even if he could walk on his own two feet, the archer needed assistance.

He had noticed the torn tunic and the bloodstained silk shirt underneath with the strange circle of tiny holes in it. He had no more of an idea of what could have caused such an injury than Elladan did. However, now was not the time to question his friend about it.

Realizing that Legolas no longer wore his cloak, Aragorn put his arm around Legolas’s waist and then pulled the elf’s right arm under his own cloak and draped it over his shoulder, holding the elf’s hand on the other side.

Elladan quickly reached over and pulled the left side of Estel’s cloak over the young archer. No matter how well an elf could withstand the cold, he knew the presence of an injury could sometimes adversely affect that ability. The fact that Legolas’s body shivered in occasional spasms was a clear indication that Elladan’s suspicion might be correct.

Looking up to study the sky, Elrohir could see that the gray clouds above them were getting darker, and it had nothing to do with the thickness of those clouds. The sun was descending into the west, and he knew that it wouldn’t be long before it would be too dark to see where they were going. “Night is coming soon.”

Elladan glanced upward and grimly commented, “Too soon.”

Aragorn’s grip tightened around Legolas, as he prepared to take the archer’s weight should he not be able to stay on his feet. He guided the elf, as they all turned and started down the trail.

“Where are we going?” Legolas asked.

A mentally aware Legolas would have known that they were headed back down the mountain. The fact he didn’t seem to know that worried Aragorn. “We are going to get away from the howlers and find shelter for the night,” Aragorn reassured his friend.

Elladan and Elrohir were walking side by side behind Estel and Legolas, placing themselves between them and the howlers they believed were above and behind them. “Where is that shelter we spent last night in?” Elrohir asked, looking around to see if he could spot it.

“We passed it a few yards back. At least, we passed where it used to be,” Elladan corrected. “The shaking must have sent it crashing down, because it was not there any longer.”

“I heard that,” Aragorn said. “I told you it wasn’t safe.”

Despite his weakened and pained condition, Legolas couldn’t hold back a chuckle, which made him wince. Even the humor he loved to share with these special friends could not make him forget, even for an instant, how much he was hurting.

“It took a whole mountain shaking to its very foundation to bring that shelter down,” Elrohir said, still unwilling to admit that his initial assessment of the previous night’s shelter had been anything but safe. Indignantly, he said, “It was destroyed only by the quaking of an entire mountain, Estel. It was perfectly safe while we were in it.”

“Says you.”

Elrohir snorted at his brother‘s continued aspersions about his judgment. “We survived, did we not? So I was right.”

Before Aragorn could offer any further argument, Elladan’s body tensed, as he called a halt to their progress. “What is that over there?” He was pointing to his left at a spot a few yards off the trail that appeared darker than the surrounding rock. “Wait here,” he said, moving quickly past Aragorn and Legolas.

As he got closer to the object of his curiosity, it became evident that the darker area among the black rocks was an alcove of sorts formed by several tall boulders that had been shaken until their leaning tops touched each other. The shelter they made was not as large as the one the foursome had spent the previous night in, but it did provide enough of a depression to keep the worst of the snow fall off of them.

After moving forward and making his own cursory examination, Elrohir said, “Not perfect, but I think we may all be able to fit into it.” ‘At least if we all fold our legs up tight,’ he added to himself, motioning for the others to join him.

Once he got to the small alcove, Aragorn nodded, not willing to criticize this shelter the way he had done for the previous one. He leaned into the four foot deep space and turned Legolas around to face the right side of it, easing him down a couple of feet from the rock that formed the back wall, if wall it could be called. He motioned for Elrohir to sit beside Legolas, and his brother did so.

The dark-haired elf held his hands out and pulled the younger elf’s right side toward him. In this way Legolas was sideways to him, allowing Aragorn unhindered access to the archer’s left shoulder. He felt heat radiating from Legolas’s body. His concern grew, as he brought the prince’s head down against his own left shoulder. Legolas was much too hot.

Aragorn immediately knelt down facing Legolas and opened his pack, going through it until he found what he was looking for. He unwrapped a small leather pouch containing the leaves of a plant. The twins recognized it as athelas, the best herb the range had with him that would fight the infection stemming from Legolas‘s wound.

Aragorn took several of the leaves and looked down at them. “I regret that we have no way to make a fire,” he said. “Boiling these leaves would be best.” His idea was that he could use the softened leaves to place directly on Legolas’s shoulder and the water containing the juice from the athelas, he would make Legolas drink. Thus the infection could be fought both inside and out. With no way to heat the snow into boiling water, another method would have to be employed.

There was only one way the human healer could see. Legolas would have to chew the leaves. Aragorn hated the idea. The young archer was weak and didn’t need to spend his waning strength chewing leaves. But he needed the juice it would produce, and there was no other way for him to get enough of it to do him any good.

Reluctantly, Aragorn took some of the leaves and said, “Legolas, I want you to chew on these leaves. Swallow the juice as it accumulates, but do not swallow any of the pulp. Do you understand?”

Legolas nodded. He opened his mouth, reminding the ranger of a little bird waiting for one of its parents to feed it. Instead of offering the man a touch of humor to ease his concern, it did the exact opposite. It brought more worry to his heart. Legolas should not be in such a state. But he was, so Aragorn knew he would have to concentrate on alleviating the problem.

The ranger gently pushed the leaves into Legolas‘s open mouth, and the elf began to chew slowly, swallowing every few minutes. He ignored the bitter taste. It mattered not at all compared to the pain he was in and the thought that what he was doing would soon bring him at least some measure of relief.

“Let me see the leaves,” Aragorn instructed his elven friend after a while. When Legolas opened his mouth again, the ranger nodded. “Let Elladan have them.” Legolas spit the green mash into Elladan’s hand, when the elder elf held it up against Legolas‘s chin.

“Just a few more,“ Aragorn said, as he put the remaining leaves in Legolas’s mouth, and the procedure was repeated.

Aragorn looked up into the darken ing sky. There would be no moonlight to aid them this night. Elladan had judged that they had little more than halt an hour of usable light left. Hopefully, that would give Estel time to treat Legolas’s wound sufficiently before complete darkness descended over them.

Once Legolas had finished chewing the second mouthful of athelas leaves to Aragorn’s satisfaction, the man looked hard at the elf. “Legolas, you know I have to look at your shoulder, and it will hurt. I’m sorry.”

Legolas nodded again. Without a word, he reached out with his right hand and gripped Elladan’s free hand. The eldest twin thought Legolas was wanting to hold onto him in preparation for the pain that was coming. Instead, the prince put Elladan’s hand up near his face. “I do not want to scream, but I do not think I can stop myself. I must not alert the howlers.” With that, he placed the elder twin’s hand over his mouth and then put his own hand over his friend’s and pressed down. He nodded to Estel to begin.

Aragorn took a deep breath, unfastened the elf’s tunic and then began pulling it up to provide more space between it and the elf’s shoulder. Then he pulled it down, not letting go until the fabric had cleared the elf’s shoulder far enough not to work its way back up and interfere with what the man was about to do. He then did the same thing with the silk shirt.

It was the first time Aragorn had seen the elf’s shoulder wound and it sickened him. In Legolas’s skin, he noted the large oval pattern of tiny puncture marks, which were raised and puffy. His entire shoulder was red, swollen and full of infection.

It didn’t take much imagination to know what touching the wound would do to Legolas, never mind having to cut, drain, clean and bandage it. Aragorn didn’t know how his friend had endured the torment he knew such a condition would have already caused.

Aragorn chided himself, because he knew even without looking that the hadn‘t brought any kind of sleeping draught with him. He had thought, wrongly as it turned out, that a sleeping draught would never be necessary on a journey like this where he had believed alertness would be essential. Hadn’t he learned by now that you could never say never? Now Legolas would have to pay the price for that mistaken assumption.

Aragorn saw that Legolas’s eyes were closed, and he hoped that it was because the elf was either asleep or unconscious. Even though most times the latter was not a good thing, now it would be a blessing.

Barely above a whisper, Aragorn said, “Legolas, are you awake?”

When the elf nodded, the ranger’s heart sank. There was nothing that could be done now but to proceed with what needed to be done.

Pulling his knife out of its sheath on the right side of his belt, Aragorn held it up in front of him. The idea of having to cut his friend’s infected flesh was almost enough to make his hands shake. He had done this before to rangers he had traveled with and who had sustained various types of wounds. Gritting his teeth, he forced his hands to be sill. He would not cause any more pain than what was absolutely unavoidable.

The man looked at Elrohir, whose lips were pressed into a tight line. He knew what was coming, as did they all, and his anguish was reflected in his deep gray eyes.

Elrohir gripped Legolas tightly around the waist with one arm, pinning the wood elf’s left arm down so he could not fling it up and hit Estel while he worked. With his other hand, Elrohir held Legolas’s head firmly against him.

Aragorn held his left hand over the wound and then gently lowered it. He felt Legolas jerk, but he elf did not attempt to cry out. Knowing that hesitation would only be worse for both Legolas and himself, the man took the tip of his knife and began to lance the circle of swollen puncture marks. He worked as quickly as he could and did not raise the knife until it had made a complete circle through the wound.

When he finally did raise his knife, Aragorn laid it down and took a deep breath. Now was going to be the hardest and most painful part of all. He took a clean cloth out of his pack and held it against the elf’s skin under the new cut that had been made.

The wound, now that the pressure from the swelling had been released, was already beginning to drain, but Aragorn knew that that alone would not be sufficient. Trying not to think about anything else, he placed his fingers inside the circle and pressed down, forcing the infection out of the cut.

This time Legolas could not hold back. He pressed his hand tightly against Elladan’s in an effort to help stifle the screams that was working their way up from his throat.

Between the two of them, only muffled screams could be heard, though in the small space surrounded on three sides by rock, it sounded loud.

They were all aware that the reason Legolas’s mouth was covered was to keep from alerting the howlers that might be hunting them and listening for any noise that would betray their location. However, right now, they were thinking only of their friend and what he was having to go through.

Legolas had his eyes screwed tightly shut. Just as he couldn’t avoid screaming, he also couldn’t keep himself from trying to pull away from the source of the pain. He pressed himself hard against Elrohir’s chest and tried to twist and arch his back, but Elrohir‘s grip tightened enough to hold him firmly in place. The muffled screams continued.

Pain adheres to no time limits, and each moment seemed to stretch out into an hour for each one of them.

Finally, Aragorn judged that the wound was not going to yield any more drainage for now other than blood. He prayed that the athelas would affect a cure before this procedure was required again.

Aragorn pulled the now-soaked cloth away and laid it down at the edge of the shelter’s entrance near, but not touching, his knife. He reached for the chewed up leaves that Elladan still held in his hand. Very carefully he began to spread the mash over the cut he had made.

Once the wound was covered with the athelas, the ranger took a fresh piece of cloth and laid it gently over Legolas’s entire shoulder. Taking yet more cloth, this time in strips, he bound the wound as firmly as he dared, but he did not put the tunic or shirt back in place. He didn’t want to have to remove them again, should this one treatment not be enough.

Legolas’s hand fell away from Elladan’s, and his body went limp. At least he was free of the pain for now.

After rubbing his knife with snow and putting it away, Aragorn then buried the dirty cloth in more snow outside the little shelter. He said to Elrohir, “I will take him,”

Elrohir knew how much it meant to Estel to held onto his friend, so he merely nodded and began to slide out from where he sat.

Elladan had already stood up and moved out of the little shelter so his two brothers could swap places. He also wanted to look around. He was relieved to see that there were no howlers in sight.

When the ranger had moved to the center of the space and settled back against the rock, he turned Legolas to face outwards and then pulled the elf back against his chest, being careful to avoid touching his shoulder. He sighed, as he wrapped his arms around the wood elf, whose head now rested against the man’s neck. He wrapped his cloak around them both.

Elrohir settled down on their left side, while Elladan moved back into the shelter and sat down on their right.

Both elves pulled their cloaks around the back and front of the man and the elf between them, forming a cocoon of cloaks for the four of them against the cold snow that they were not able to escape.

Aragorn didn’t know how long they had all been sitting in that same position, when he felt Legolas shift in his arms. He realized he must have dozed off, because the movement brought him immediately to full awareness.

Glancing down, the ranger was surprised to see Legolas wide awake and staring up into the night sky. There was an almost dreamy expression of joy on his face. “Look, Estel.”

Aragorn saw only the large snowflakes that drifted down and had covered the lower part of their cloaks. It was those snowflakes that he thought Legolas was referring to. He was a bit confused though, because that was certainly nothing new. It had been snowing all day. Yet he also knew that elves could see much better than humans. Perhaps the archer was talking about something else he was seeing, so Aragorn asked, “Look at what, Legolas?”

“The stars, Estel. Look at the stars. Are they not beautiful?”

The man looked higher up at the low-hanging clouds that were so thick they completely hid the full moon the ranger knew was shining above them, along with all the stars. With a great deal of effort to try and keep the tears that sprang to his eyes out of his voice, he replied, “Yes, Legolas. The stars are beautiful.”

The ranger tightened his grip on the elf. He then closed his eyes and rested his chin on Legolas’s head. He soon felt his friend’s body relax, as if he had gotten the confirmation he sought and had decided that now it was all right to rest.

Aragorn looked first at Elrohir and then at Elladan. Both had their hoods up, hiding most of their faces. It was done not so much to fight the cold, as it was to hide the soft elven glow of their skin that could possibly betray their location to any howlers that might happen to glance their way while out hunting them. The man could not be sure, but he thought he saw tears in Elladan’s and Elrohir’s eyes, as well.

Aragorn knew, as he was sure his brothers knew, that Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, their friend, was dying.

TBC

Chapter Fifteen

Aragorn sat for a long time, holding his dearest and most trusted friend in his arms and terrified that the elf would die there. The man had his right hand spread flat on Legolas’s chest, so he could satisfy himself that the elf was still breathing.

The athelas was apparently not working. Why? the ranger wanted to know. Why was this powerful plant, used so successfully, so often and for so long, not doing its job now? There was a reason, and Aragorn knew he had to find it.

The man raised his head, clenching his teeth in determination. There had to be something more he could do. He was unwilling to just accept the impending death of his friend. He had done that already, because that perceived death had been out of his hands, and the evidence had pointed in that direction. Now he felt that Legolas’s fate was in his hands, and he just had to find a way to make it come out in his favor.

Aragorn would need to fight as hard to save the archer as he had ever fought any enemy. After all, wasn’t this infection an enemy? Such infection was unnatural in an elf, and anything unnatural had a cause beyond the norm. It could be fought, and it could be defeated, if that cause was found. And he knew Elladan and Elrohir were right there ready to do whatever they could to help.

As much as Aragorn hated to disturb Legolas by questioning him, the ranger needed to know more about the wound that he was sure was a bite, because he had the nagging feeling that the answer lay in obtaining that knowledge. With a deep sigh, he looked down at the elf’s ashen face and said. “Legolas?”

“I am awake,” the elf replied, to the ranger‘s great surprise. Legolas had been so still and quiet, since his wound had been treated, that Aragorn was sure he had been asleep.

“These marks on your shoulder are from a bite, aren’t they?”

Legolas blinked, sorted through the question and then nodded.

“Can you tell me about the bite? Was it done by one of the howlers?” He could think of no other creature who might have done it.

“Yes. Is something wrong?” There was a small note of alarm in the elf’s voice.

Normally the ranger would not even think of trying to hide anything from Legolas. It rarely worked anyway. Right now, however, he was going to see how far he could go before even the muddled mind of his friend picked up on the evasion. “I thought maybe there was more involved than just being bitten. Was there?”

Legolas frowned, trying to remember the events that led up to and then beyond being bitten. It was difficult to concentrate, but he forced himself to sift through his memories. “It was the leader.“ He tried to recall other details but couldn’t bring any more to mind. He shook his head in frustration and then went still, a blank look crossing his face.

“Did this leader do anything else to you besides bite you?” Aragorn gently reminded the elf, aware that he had forgotten what it was he was trying to remember.

Aragorn waited as Legolas again struggled with his memory. It pained him when the elf’s concentration again deserted him, and he once more looked out into the dark night and smiled. “Do you see the beautiful stars, Estel?”

If only he could just let his friend enjoy the stars he loved so much. Even if they weren’t there to be seen, he knew Legolas would find joy and peace in imagining their sparkling beauty. But there was no time for such indulgences. He had to find out if there was any information Legolas could tell him that might be used to save the elf’s life. “Legolas, will you listen to me?”

Aragorn felt Legolas move his head to look up at him. The elf’s eyes were wide and expectant. “Did you ask me a question, Estel?” he inquired.

With an inner sense of urgency that he wasn‘t willing to transmit to the young elf, the ranger calmly asked again, “Did something happen after the howler bit you?”

All three of the Rivendell brothers were totally unprepared, when Legolas laughed softly and then said. “I bit it back.”

“You bit the howler?” Elrohir asked in surprise, not completely sure that the ‘it’ Legolas mentioned referred to the howler. Deciding it did, Elrohir was tempted to say, ‘Good boy,’ but thought that was a bit out of place under the circumstances.

Leoglas’s smile broadened. “I did,” he answered proudly. “I bit it on the arm.“ Then he paused before adding, “I drew blood, and that creature made me swallow it.” He scrunched his face up and made a gagging noise. “It was worse than your athelas, Estel.”

There was a moment of silence before Aragorn said, “It must be the blood,” He had reached the only conclusion that made any sense to him.

Elladan nodded. “So it is probably the howler’s blood that interfered with Legolas’s natural healing ability, leading to the infection.”

“And is now interfering with the athelas,” Elrohir added.

“Yes,” Aragorn agreed. “That has to be it. However, these howlers exist nowhere else in Middle-earth, that we know of, and we know nothing about them or their blood. So how do we reverse what that blood has done to Legolas?” In his mind, he said, ‘Before it’s too late.’

“I know who they are,” Legolas answered and laughed again. When no one made a comment, he thought perhaps they didn‘t believe him. “I really do know who they are.” His tone was insistent.

Realizing that Legolas must have learned something about the creatures while he was their prisoner, Elladan said, “Tell us about them.” When all he got was another blank stare, the elder elf said, “Legolas, it may help to make you well, if we know more about the howlers.”

Legolas perked up. “It will stop the pain?” he asked with hope shining in his blue-gray eyes.

“We hope it will, mellon nin,” Aragorn said, unable to make a firm promise that might prove to be false. “Now please tell us all that you know about the howlers.”

Legolas began his tale. It took a while, because his wandering mind kept getting in the way of his narration. He paused often, either to stare out into space or to correct himself, when he wasn’t sure he had said the right thing.

As a result, the story was halting and disjointed, and it took all three of the archer’s friends to sort through the information and bring some kind of order to it all.

Legolas knew he wasn’t telling the story exactly right. He again shook his head in frustration, seemingly after every sentence he uttered. Finally, he looked up at the man holding him and said, “I am sorry, Estel. I cannot think clearly.”

“You are doing fine, Legolas.” Aragorn squeezed the elf’s hand in encouragement.

“Just take your time,” Elrohir said, adding his own encouragement.

When the elf reached the part about who the howlers were and how they came to be on Orod Moru, he had three pairs of wide eyes staring intently at him.

“They were Drúedain?” Elladan asked in disbelief, using the proper name for the Drughu.

Legolas smiled. “I told you I knew who they were.” The elf was exceedingly pleased he had been able to get that part of the story out so it was understood. He sensed that his friends were very anxious to learn what he had to say about the origins of the howlers.

The three brothers looked at each other. “I never would have guessed in a hundred millennia that these creatures had once been the kin of men,” Elrohir said, shaking his head.

“Nor would I,” Aragorn agreed, still rather amazed. He had thought that Legolas was going to tell them things that he had observed while in the company of the howlers. It certainly never occurred to him that they could be able to speak in any tongue but their own. So it was a great surprise when it dawned on him that the only way Legolas could have learned that kind of information was if he and the howlers had been able to communicate. “They speak the Common tongue?”

“They do,” Legolas said, grinning. “I talked to them, and they talked to me.” His grin faded, as he frowned once more, thinking that there was something not quite right about that statement. It didn’t occur to him that only the leader had spoken to him. None of the others ever had.

“Everything must have been stripped from them except the ability to speak Westron,” Aragorn mused, not understanding the reason for that but forced to accept it nonetheless.

“Taking the identity of those people, who opposed him, is just another example of evil that can be hung around Morgoth’s neck.” There was anger in Elladan’s voice.

Not knowing that there was a small undiscovered contingent of Drúedain left, Elrohir said, “Now that entire race of men has vanished from Middle-earth. These creatures certainly have no humanity left.”

“No,” Legolas replied. “They have no souls. That is what the leader told me.” Despite everything that the elf had endured since the howlers captured him, he still could not find in himself any true hatred for them, though he seemed to remember killing two of them, who had tried to prevent his escape. He also vaguely remembered that they wanted to do something really dreadful to him. He just couldn’t recall what it was. Added to that was the fact he had never been in the cavern and thus hadn’t seen the bones and the horror they represented. If he had, his opinion of the howlers would surely have shifted much more toward what Aragorn and the twins thought.

The archer’s eyes grew distant, when he found that he could no longer concentrate on anything but the gnawing pain in his shoulder and the intensely uncomfortable heat that was consuming his body. These two things combined to exhaust the elf. All conscious thought left him, and Legolas once again stared up at the night sky. Soon his eyes closed, and he drifted off into a troubled sleep.

As interesting as it was to Aragorn and the twins to find out about the howlers’ origins, it still didn’t give them any answers. No matter who these creatures had been before, they were howlers now, and the brothers still didn’t know how to combat their obviously toxic blood.

“If only Ada were here,” Elrohir remarked. Then he looked at his youngest brother. “I am sorry, Estel. I know you are a very good healer and have done your best for Legolas.”

“Don’t apologize, Elrohir. You’re right. I, too, wish Ada was here. There is no healer like him in all of Middle-earth. He would surely know what to do.”

“I can see only one solution,” Elladan said, the frown of deep thought still on his handsome face.

“What is that?” Aragorn asked, eagerly awaiting the answer, since he had none of this own.

“We must capture one of the howlers.”

The ranger stared at his oldest brother. “I assume you want to get some of its blood.”

Elladan nodded.

“And then what?” Aragorn asked. “We have no way of making an antidote, Elladan, even if we knew how. Ada is the expert there. Remember he is the one that made the anti-venom that cured Legolas two years ago.”

“He also had his whole workroom and all his herbs, potions and formulas at his disposal,” Elrohir said, “We have nothing.”

“Then we must find something,” Aragorn insisted. He wanted to say that he was not going to just let Legolas die, but he knew that his friend might hear those words, even if it looked as if he was asleep right then. The elf’s confused mind did not recognize the fact he was dying, and the ranger was not going to the be one to inadvertently let him know that his closest friends believed his condition was that serious.

Elladan reached up under his cloak and put his hand on Estel’s shoulder. “Whatever we do cannot be done until daylight. For now we keep him comfortable.”

“There is one thing we can do for all of us,” Elrohir said, pulling his cloak free of Estel and Legolas and turning to his left. He reached for his pack, as Elladan asked him what he was doing.

“We must eat to keep our strength up. I have a feeling tomorrow may be harder than today has been.” He was prepared to argue that point, however, neither of his brothers offered an objection.

Elrohir drew out a package wrapped in dark cloth. When he opened it, several pieces of cheese and some dried meat was soon revealed. Along with it were about half a dozen pieces of lembas bread. The elf grinned as he held the cloth out for Aragorn and Elladan to pick what they wanted.

When they pushed back all the cloaks around them, a voice cut through the silence. “Do I not get anything to eat?”

“Legolas,” Aragorn exclaimed somewhat startled. He was now exceedingly glad he hadn‘t said anything about Legolas‘s true condition. The elf might well have heard every word. “I’m sorry, mellon nin. I didn’t realize you would feel like eating. Here, take this.” The ranger then offered a piece of dried meat to the elf.

Legolas took the meat from Aragorn’s hand and bit off a small piece. He began to chew it slowly, almost as if the effort of going any faster would be too taxing. Yet he did finish that piece and then bit off another.

Unknown to him, Aragorn was grinning. The man knew that if Legolas was hungry, his condition might not be quite as dire as he had earlier feared, though that belief alone was not enough to truly ease his mind.

In the meantime, Elladan had retrieved his water skin from his own pack and offered it to Estel, who let go of Legolas and took the container. He held the mouth of it in one hand and the other he put under the bottom for support. He tilted it up and took a long drink from it.

After Legolas had finished eating his piece of meat, Aragorn offered him another, but Legolas shook his head. The man had hoped the elf would eat more, but even this tiny bit was better than not eating at all.

When Elladan held his water skin against Legolas’s lips, the archer began to drink greedily. The dark-haired elf was well aware that the heat of fever had caused such a thirst, and though he wanted to help him quench it, Elladan knew better than to let Legolas drink his fill. He did not want the cold water to cause Legolas’s stomach to cramp. Reluctantly, Elladan pulled the skin away. “That is all you can have for now, Legolas. You do not want to make yourself sick.”

Legolas laughed. “I am already sick,” he informed his friend, as he reached out with his good right hand toward the water skin.

“Not the kind of sick that will make you lose all that is in your stomach,” the elder twin told him. “Doing that will also hurt your shoulder immensely.”

After thinking Elladan’s comment over, Legolas nodded and said, “I will drink more later.” Then with a sigh, he relaxed back against Aragorn’s chest. “I will sleep now.” In less than a minute, he was doing just that.

The three brothers finished their own meager meal and satisfied their own thirst.

“As soon as we have enough light, we will seek out a howler,” Aragorn told his brothers. “Then we’ll find a way to use it to help Legolas.”

That plan sounded so simple. He didn’t think about the fact that the chances were quite good that it was he, his brothers and his wounded friend, who would become the ones being sought.

TBC

Chapter Sixteen

Legolas’s conscious mind may have been rendered confused and hazy by the toxins in his body, but his inner mind was clear. It had heard and correctly processed everything that had been said to and about him.

It was this concise, unfettered inner mind that had been so exasperated when the elf had thoroughly mangled the story he had tried so hard to tell Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir. It had become as frustrated as Legolas’s conscious mind had been, more so actually, since it knew the exact way the story should be told.

Legolas’s subconscious heard quite clearly the meaning behind his friends’ words. They were sure the elf was dying. That shouldn’t have come as any great surprise to him, considering the condition he was in, yet somehow it had. However, by the time he understood what it was his friends were saying, the part of his mind that was directing his conscious thoughts and actions had decided to go to sleep. So here he was, knowing he was about to journey to the Halls of Mandos, and he was as helpless as anyone to do anything about it. More frustration.

Legolas knew he should probably rest up for whatever ordeal lay ahead of him by finding the path of dreams and setting his mind upon it, but he was unable to do so. How could someone, who was about to die, just forget that and...dream, as if it was just an ordinary night?

Legolas thought back over the years of his life, picking out the events that were most meaningful to him. There had been so many good times, so many cherished moments spent with family and friends. They filtered through his mind in a cascade of happy memories. Each one was savored, and then it faded to be replaced by another. No time was wasted remembering the bad times.

As for death itself, he had faced it many times as a warrior, been wounded many times, almost died many times. And in each near-death experience he had had, the one thing that most often happened was that he had been unable to tell his family goodbye, because most of those times had found him far from his father’s palace in northern Mirkwood.

And here he was, not only dying again, but as usual, he was far from home. Was there a chance for him now? Would he survive this time, as he had all those other times before? Probably not. This time was different. There was nothing and no one that could help him now. He was much too far from outside aid. Even the athelas that Estel was using on his bite wound was not working.

His friends had mentioned finding a howler to get its blood, but the elf didn’t think that was a very viable solution. They had discussed the fact that there was no way to make any kind of antidote. So that left him in death’s grip just as surely as if he were totally alone.

The archer’s mind then focused on Estel. Legolas knew the man would be forever blaming himself for the elf’s death. No matter that his brothers would tell him over and over that Legolas never did anything he didn’t want to do. ‘Well, almost never,’ he thought wryly, remembering times his father had assigned him to do something he didn‘t really want to do. But Estel had talked him into coming here, and now he would hold himself responsible for his friend’s death.

‘Why did I not tell Estel that I was intrigued by his story of investigating Orod Moru? Why did I not tell him that I mainly argued with him to watch him wiggle and squirm in an effort to convince me, when I was close to making up my mind to come here almost as soon as he had started his story?’

Legolas, who tried never to feel guilty about the decisions he made in his life, now heaped no small measure of guilt upon himself for his deception. ‘I will apologize, when I awaken,’ the elf vowed to himself firmly, though he felt that it would do no good.

Then there was the idea that Estel would feel guilty about being a healer unable to heal his best friend. The elf had seen that kind of guilt in the man more than once. He himself had tried to convince his friend that he had done all he could to save whoever it had been that died despite his care at the time.

Elladan and Elrohir would tell their brother that he had done his best. Legolas knew that Estel would not listen. His guilt would eat at him, in this case, possibly for the rest of his mortal life. It pained Legolas to think of anyone suffering on his account, especially someone who did not deserve that kind of suffering.

Suddenly a sound worked its way into his mind. It was indistinct at first and then began to resonate through his subconscious. All at once he knew what it was. Howlers! His inner ability to keep track of time told him that it was almost dawn. The howlers, who appeared to be primarily day hunters, would be searching for them. He had become one of their casualties, but he was not willing to let his friends become their latest victims.

With an effort borne of desperation, the elf forced himself awake.

~*~*~

The howls that erupted and seemed to wrap their haunting tones around the little group in their rocky shelter, jerked Aragorn awake. He would have straightened up had he not been holding Legolas back against him.

When the man looked out toward the eastern expanse in front of him, he saw that dawn was beginning to break. It took a moment for him to realize that the clouds with their heavy burden of snow had moved off, leaving behind a clear and brightening sky.

Elladan trained his keen hearing up above them to where the howlers were located. “They will be coming for us,” he said grimly.

“We cannot stay here,” the ranger said.

“What about us capturing a howler?” Elrohir asked. “Did you not say that that was Legolas’s best chance to survive?”

Elladan looked at the man. “Have you changed your mind about trying to capture a howler?”

“No. I still believe it must be done, but I have thought this over. We must move Legolas down to the valley. One of us will have to stay with him while the other two come back up here to catch a howler.” He looked down at the blond elf. “We have little chance to succeed up here, if we have to take care of him while fighting to get our hands on one of those creatures.”

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, It didn’t take them long to realize that Aragorn was right. Even though they hated the idea of leaving and then coming back again, they understood the need for it. They wouldn’t be able to turn their full attention on any howler they came upon, if they had to keep part of their attention on keeping Legolas safe. They finally nodded in agreement, but before either could offer a comment, Legolas stirred.

A small involuntary moan escaped, when the elf shifted and pressed his shoulder against the ranger. The jolt of pain that resulted snapped his eyes open. Having already identified the sound in his inner mind, the prince whispered, “Howlers.”

“Legolas.” Aragorn looked down at the elf, and ignoring the comment. asked, “How do you feel this morning?”

Fearing there was no time for the usual pleasantries, Legolas answered, “I can walk. We have must leave this place.” The apologies Legolas had intended on making to Estel would have to wait.

The ranger looked at both of his brothers. They each nodded. Elrohir said nothing, but Elladan voiced his agreement. “Legolas is right. We must go now. By the time we are ready to leave, we will have enough light to navigate the trail safely.”

A single howl, much nearer to them than the first ones were, spurred the companions into motion.

Elladan and Elrohir gathered the packs, shouldered them along with their own and moved out from the shelter. One looked up toward the summit of the mountain, and the other looked down toward where they intended to go.

Elladan looked back at Aragorn. “I see no howlers above us.” he informed the man, “though I believe they are near.”

Elrohir expressed the assessment of his own observation, “I do not see anything, but I, too, feel they are moving closer to us.”

Fairly sure that they were safe for the moment, at least, Elrohir leaned into the shelter. He gripped Legolas’s right arm in both of his hands and began to pull him up onto his feet, as gently as he could. He steadied the swaying young elf until he found his balance.

Once Legolas was standing upright, Aragorn also rose and moved up beside him, once again putting the elf’s arm around his shoulders and then gripping him around the waist. The ranger was dismayed to note that more of the elf’s weight was leaning against him than had been the case the day before. He knew Legolas would not make it all the way down the mountain on his own feet. ‘So I will carry him,’ the man said determinedly, ‘no matter his objections’, which he was sure would be forthcoming.

Just as the little group turned toward the lower section of the trail, the sun peeped up over the rim of the eastern horizon. Slowly rising, it began to spread its brilliant light across the face of Black Mountain. It was too early yet for warmth to reach the four, but the sight of the golden rays lifted all of their hearts and gave them hope.

They moved down the trail at a pace that Legolas could manage. As long as the trail was clear of any sizable rocks, they were able to move steadily. The difficult part came when the trail was blocked by the boulders that had fallen over during the intense quaking the day before, as well as those that had fallen in centuries past.

Getting Legolas over those huge rocks was an ordeal that caused the elf much pain and in turn, caused his friends pain on his behalf. There was just no way they could help him maneuver without jostling his shoulder and taxing his strength.

The elven prince tried his best to keep from showing how much pain he was in. The last thing he wanted was to cause his friends any more stress than they already felt. However, will power alone was not enough, and there were several times he couldn’t hide a hiss or gasp in reaction to having to move over the top of particularly large boulders.

Legolas was not actually able to climb over the large rocks. With the help of his friends, he sat up on the cold, snow-covered stones, scooted back over their surface, then turned around and slid down the other side into Aragorn‘s arms. The twins then joined the other two, and they all proceeded until the next fallen boulder was encountered.

Elrohir quickly moved ahead and jumped lightly onto the top of one of the flat boulders next to the trail and looked down toward the valley. He saw the edge of the snowline spread out across the slopes before him.

The younger twin couldn’t have explained why, but he had the strong feeling that the howlers would not go beyond the edge of the snow. Perhaps that was the limit Morgoth had set for the creatures, so they would be forever confined there. This idea seemed logical, since it snowed on the higher elevations all year around.

Elrohir wasn’t sure enough of his idea to be willing to let his guard down, once they reached the naked granite, but like seeing the sun, he was feeling happier at the prospect of leaving the snow behind them. It certainly was a lot better than his earlier fears that they might not be able to get away from the howlers. It had been unsettling for the Rivendell elf that he had been forced even to entertain such a thought.

His scrutiny of the trail completed, Elrohir jumped down and turned to his brothers and his friend. “The snowline is just a few yards down the trail.” A grin spread across his face. Maybe they would make it off this accursed mountain after all.

Working their way around one more boulder that was leaning precariously over the trail, the four companions made their way out on to a relatively flat area. They all stopped and stared in horror.

Spread out in front of them on the trail, and on the rocks, were a dozen howlers.

It was the first time that Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir had seen the creatures in the clear light of day. They were not prepared for what stood in front of them. So shocked were they at the vision that the fact their path to freedom was currently being blocked hadn’t yet registered.

Legolas frowned. His keen eyes had sought out and found the leader of the group. Their eyes met, and the howler grinned. If ever a grin could be considered evil, this one certainly qualified.

The creature was not in the center, as might be expected of a leader. Instead, it stood to the side of the trail on top of a low rock. Its eyes never left the face of its golden-haired prize, and there was a look of avarice on its face. “I thought you were lost to us,” it said. “I am glad I was wrong.”

All three of the Rivendell brothers were also staring. Their mouths had dropped open in total stunned silence. Hearing perfect Westron coming out of this hideously ugly creature was almost too absurd to be real. Despite the fact Legolas had already told them about these creatures, actually seeing them and hearing the one speak was a shock.

Legolas continued to look into the howler leader’s yellow eyes and suddenly remembered what it was these creatures had planned to do to him. “We must get away,” he urged, barely above a whisper. “They want to eat us.”

Aragorn tore his eyes away from the howlers and stared at his friend. “You can’t mean...” He was finding it hard to wrap his mind around the idea enough to fully express himself.

“It is true, Estel. I could not remember before.” Legolas looked almost sheepish at the thought that he had been so fuzzy-minded he couldn’t remember such a horrid prospect. “I recall it now quite clearly.”

“The bones, Estel.” Elladan reminded his youngest brother. “Remember the bones we saw.”

Aragorn groaned and shook his head. He didn’t think he would ever forget the grisly scene in the cavern. Would he, his brothers and his friend be added to the pile, as he had earlier believed Legolas had been? A cold shiver went through him.

Legolas looked at each of his friends with a puzzled expression on his face. “What bones?”

The man didn’t think now was the time to go into detail about the dreadful remains of countless beings in the cavern. He merely shook his head again.

When the leader jumped down from the rock it was on and advanced a few feet toward the four companions, Aragorn let go of Legolas’s hand on his shoulder and pulled his sword. “We will not return to that horrible cave.”

The man noted out of the corner of his eye that the twins had drawn their bows and each had an arrow pointed at the leader’s heart, or at least the place where a heart should be. It occurred to the ranger that these creatures might not even have one.

“Have you told them about us?” it asked the youngest elf, feeling certain it knew the answer.

“Yes,” Legolas replied. “I told them all that you told me.”

“I can see in your eyes that you are very ill.” The howler laughed dismissively. “It does not matter. Your illness will not affect us.” The meaning behind those words was obvious.

Anger began to replace the fear that had grown in Aragorn, since he first saw the howlers. His tone was bitterly accusing, when he said, “it’s your blood that made him sick.”

The howler laughed again. “The foolish elf should not have bitten me.”

As the leader took a step toward Legolas, it saw both Elladan and Elrohir pull back just the slightest bit more on their bowstrings. It glared at them. “You may kill me, but you will never leave this mountain alive. My death will not cause chaos in our ranks, as I am sure you are hoping.”

Those words were brave but not necessarily true. The creature actually had no idea whether its death would render disorder or would merely lead to the ascension of another leader. No one else had ever held that position.

The lie came from the fact its death would matter---to the creature itself. It didn’t want to die, even though it had told Legolas that immortality was a curse. A cruel grin crossed its face again, mainly to hide any hint of deception, especially from the keen-eyed twins, who posed the greatest threat. The golden-haired one was too ill to be much of a menace. Neither, it believed, was the human.

Legolas was trying to stand steady in fhe face of these creatures. He did not want them to see him collapse right in front of them. However, his body had other ideas. He had gotten some sleep the night before, but maneuvering the trail had taken most of the strength he had gained. He was plainly exhausted and burning with fever.

Legolas’s vision clouded, as he began to sink to his knees, forcing Aragorn to drop his sword in order to keep his hold on the elf and keep him from falling on his face.

Noting the lost sword, Legolas said, “I am sorry, Estel. My strength has betrayed me. I cannot...”

“Shh,” Aragorn interrupted the elven prince. He held his friend firmly. “You are not at fault.” He glared at the leader, his expression of hatred and blame clearly aimed at the creature. The fault belonged squarely with it.

There was the tiniest flash of fear in the howler leader’s eyes, when the elf went down. The twins, who had not taken their eyes off of the creature, both saw the look but didn’t understand the reason behind it. They, of course, knew nothing about the howlers’ need to consume only live prey.

TBC

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone!

Chapter Seventeen

He may have been on his knees, trying to keep Legolas upright, but Aragorn's instincts were to fight here and now while they still had possession of their weapons. The man believed that once they were forced to relinquish them and were herded into the cave, their chances for escape would drop to almost nil. And being at the mercy of these beasts did not sit well with him at all.

Inwardly arguing against that line of logic, Aragorn also knew that if they made a stand here, Legolas would have to be put back on the ground and surrounded by he and his brothers in order to protect him. If any of the howlers broke past them, there was little chance Legolas could defend himself, a fact the elf would have vehemently disagreed with.

The man suspected that, if they fought these creatures, it would be a great deal different than fighting orcs. He believed these howlers were more dangerous than any orc he had ever come across.

To the ranger's right, Elladan whispered, "Estel, what do you want to do?"

To his left and behind, Elrohir added, "We will follow your lead."

Aragorn could tell by the defiant tone of their voices, slight though it was, that his brothers wanted to fight, as well. He was sure they considered these beasts no less hideous than orcs, and he knew after what those creatures had done to their mother, Celebrian, they were despised beyond any other being in Middle-earth. Still he had to weigh the options very carefully. Their lives probably depend on his decision.

The ranger looked at each of the howlers, who were all grinning at the four of them. His blood ran cold, as he surveyed the array of sharp teeth they each displayed. Now he fully understood why they carried no weapons. They didn't need to. Their teeth were weapons enough.

He thought of the bite on Legolas's shoulder, and he shivered. He had no doubt about how easy it would have been for the howler to have bitten down hard enough to rip out a huge chunk of Legolas's shoulder, bones and all. If Legolas hadn't bled to death on the spot, the devastating wound would have rendered the elf's left arm forever useless. He would have become an archer, who would never again possess the ability to shoot a bow. That would be a tragedy, and the man wasn't entirely sure that even the strength of Legolas's warrior spirit would survive it.

Before he could continue with his thoughts, a shadow fell over them. When Aragorn looked up, he saw the howler leader, whose eyes were on the same level with his own and dancing with malice.

"Pick him up and carry him," the creature commanded, its patience having finally run out. "There have been enough delays." When the human didn't move, it shouted, "Now!"

Furious, Aragorn shouted, "You are killing him."

No sooner had the words left the ranger's mouth than he reminded himself who it was he was addressing. This creature cared nothing for the needs of others. It only wanted what it wanted, and that was to kill. After all, hadn't it been the one to bite Legolas in the first place? And wasn't it leading the four of them back to the cavern to be eaten, according to Legolas?

Possessing a healer's caring nature, and despite his experience with the cruelty that existed in Arda, it was sometimes hard for Aragorn to accept that he couldn't appeal to the kindness of beings who possessed no such kindness. Legolas had told them that these creatures had no souls. They wanted to consume the flesh of the four of them and would relish doing it. He knew that if he and his brothers were to save themselves and Legolas, they would get no sympathetic help from any of these creatures.

He recognized that his first and most immediate priority was to help keep the four of them alive as long as possible while looking for a way for each of them to get off of the mountain in one piece. He watched the howlers intently and knew beyond the slightest doubt that if they tried to fight here and now, he and the three elves would most likely be torn to pieces.

It boiled down to two distinct choices. Fight out here and trust to hope that they would prevail or surrender and look for an opportunity to escape later. It came back to him that once they entered the cave, they would be unarmed, probably restrained and thus helpless to determine their own fate.

The ranger could not abide the thought that their bones would be added to those in the cavern, and no one would ever know what had happened to them. To the outside world, they would have vanished off the face of Arda, and, their families and friends would forever suffer the pain of not knowing their fate. The man shook his head at the dreadful thought, yet fully aware that if they were all killed during a fight out here on the trail, the result would be the same.

Aragorn was a bit surprised when Legolas reached up just then and gripped the man's arm. "We must fight, Estel. We cannot go back to the cave unarmed. We would never leave it alive."

Aragorn was dismayed to hear the slight slur in the elf's words. It was plain that Legolas was getting close to drifting off into oblivion again. If they chose to make a stand, how would the archer fare?

The howler leader, unable to understand the Sindarin language, glared at Aragorn, thinking that the exchange between man and elf might be an attempt to devise a plan for some kind of resistance. With a warning snarl, the howler then said, "Do not think of trying to fight us. You would not win." It pointed to Legolas. "And he will be the first to die. Now get him up or carry him. I care not which."

Elladan's and Elrohir's aims had followed the howler leader, as he advanced toward Aragorn and Legolas. Each was looking for any hostile sign that the creature would strike. If it didn't, the twins weren't going to shoot, a move that would have taken the decision of what to do out of Aragorn's hands. They would have done it only as a last resort.

The howler leader was now standing so close to the man and the three elves that the twins knew their bows would be useless against him. It was a consequence of not firing at him earlier, and they accepted that decision.

Elrohir lifted his bow and took aim at a howler on top of a rock a few feet in front of him. Elladan did the same with a howler standing across the trail from him.

The ranger made his choice. He bent down closer to Legolas and gave him a knowing look, while reaching for his sword. He snatched it up quickly and shouted, "Now!"

He heard the twang of two bowstrings. Aragorn didn't see the two targeted howlers fall, but he had no doubt they had. His brothers would not have missed, especially at such a short distance.

The man swung his sword at the leader, but the creature leaned back out of the way. "You will all die for this," it hissed.

Three howlers ran at Aragorn from the side. One fell with an arrow in its chest thanks to Elladan. The other two creatures came within a hair's breadth of reaching the ranger. Aragron got the toe of his right boot under the fallen howler and kicked its body into the second creature, knocking it backwards into a rock and spitting the back of its head on the stone. It lay unmoving.

Legolas was dizzy and close to exhaustion, but he forced himself not to give in. He couldn't allow himself to sit in the center of the circle his friends made around him and do nothing to help them. All of his weapons had been taken from him. All but one, that is. He reached down into his right boot and pulled out a small dagger. The blade was only five inches long, but in the elf's hands it was a very deadly five inches.

The blond elf, still on his knees, reached out to Aragorn's right side and managed to slice through the leg of one of the howlers, who had evidently escaped the man's immediate attention. The creature grabbed its leg above the knee and fell over backward. It howled, but the tone of this sound was far different from that of the distant, haunting tones heard from these creatures.

Aragorn managed to decapitate the third howler that had advanced on him. It was then that Aragorn had quickly looked down and saw Legolas's hand reach out and separate a howler from its lower extremity. Black blood spurted from the stump. The man noted with satisfaction that when the howler fell over, its leg just below the knee was standing straight up a few seconds before it, too, fell over. It didn't take long for the howler, who didn't have much blood to begin with, to bleed to death.

A cry of pain soon grabbed the ranger's attention. It wasn't a howler's cry. It was Elrohir, who had one of the beasts latched onto his left arm, its teeth sunk deep in the elf’s flesh. The younger twin, who had already put his bow onto his back and had drawn a knife. He flipped the blade up and shifted it in his hand from a defensive hold to an offensive one. He then rammed it into the top of the creature's head. Even dead, the howler did not let go.

Legolas, through sheer force of will, had managed to stagger to his feet. Seeing what was happening with Elrohir, the younger elf reached out and grabbed the howler's head and pulled its mouth open, releasing Elrohir's arm.

The two elves looked at each other. The dark-haired twin nodded his gratitude before they both turned their attention back to the battle.

At almost the same time, Aragorn found that a howler had slipped under the swing of his sword and bitten him on the hand, though it was a small wound by comparison to that of Legolas and his brother. He plunged his sword into its chest and turned to face another howler.

Elladan also turned. The howler he was expecting to face had instead spin around leapt onto his back and was now biting down on his neck. Luckily, the creature had not gotten a good hold, and its teeth were not deeply embedded. The elder twin reached up over his head, grabbed the howler by the throat and pulled him back over his head. He threw it down and rammed it with his sword.

When he looked up, there was another creature leaping at him from the top of a boulder. He sidestepped, and as soon as the creature hit the ground, Elladan stomped on the howler's neck, breaking it instantly.

Early in the battle, the howler leader had taken several steps back from the actual fighting. It had had complete confidence in the members of its group easily defeating these, to its way of thinking, inferior intruders on their mountain. There was good reason for this conception. No one had ever escaped their grasp. However, the leader was becoming concerned, as more and more of the howlers were falling to the well-honed fighting skills of the human and the three elves. Even the badly injured and ill golden elf was causing damage with his one lone knife.

This situation could not be allowed to continue. If it did, the howler knew it would soon find itself at the mercy of these repulsive beings. Even if it escaped, it would be alone---the only one of its kind left.

The howler focused all of its attention on the golden elf. If nothing else was accomplished, that elf was going to die and die now.

Standing back and surveying all that was happening, the leader waited for its opportunity. Both of the dark-haired elves were fully engaged with a howler each. The human was likewise dueling with a howler to his left. The leader was dismayed to see that there were not others of its kind left alive.

Waiting might allow one of the elves or the human to get free to help Legolas. So deciding that now was the best chance to act, the creature bent low and charged toward the golden-haired elf.

Legolas sensed rather than saw or heard the howler leader coming at him. He turned just in time to meet the howler's impact against his chest. The two went down in a heap and began to roll.

Twice Legolas rolled over his left shoulder. He finally came to a stop, when his back slammed into a boulder, his left shoulder under him. He clenched his teeth, fighting to stay conscious, as black spots danced across his vision. If he passed out now, he was doomed.

The image of the howler, who had landed on top of him, swam before the prince's eyes. The black creature evidently realized this, because it grinned widely and leaned down, intending to rip out the elf’s throat.

Legolas threw up his right arm. It saved his life, for the moment, at least. He felt the howler's teeth beginning to crunch down on his right wrist, which was partially protected by his regular leather vambrace.

The elf looked up and stared at his arm. He realized that only a small part of the side of his wrist had actually been bitten into. He closed his eyes, giving himself a second to give thanks. Had the howler gotten a good hold of him, it would have bitten his hand off, vambrace or no.

Realizing the same thing the elf had, the howler let go and opened its mouth as wide as it would go. It's head began to lower once gain, but the jagged teeth never connected with their target a second time.

Legolas had gathered every ounce of strength he had left in his body, and focusing intently on those teeth that were coming too close for comfort, he pushed with all his might. The howler leader's face reflected its surprise as it flew through the air and landed at Aragorn’s feet.

The man looked down but had no idea this was the leader of the howler or that it had just bitten Legolas again. He knew only that it was a deadly enemy, and thus its life had to be ended. With a vicious swing of his sword, Aragorn cut the howler across the chest.

The creature knew immediately it was dying. With the last of its breath, it looked at the human. "The golden elf will die shortly. You have all been bitten, so the rest of you will also die before long. So you have not won the victory you believe." Its eyes glittered before its head dropped to the snowy trail. The leader of the howlers was dead and along with it went the last of the cursed Drughu.

Looking around, Aragorn saw both Elladan and Elrohir standing quietly and surveying the dead howler bodies that littered the area. `I didn't think we would win,' he thought, somewhat amazed.

Aragorn smiled at his brothers and then turned to find where Legolas was located. The elf was lying against a boulder. The ranger was at his side in seconds. The elf's eyes were closed and his breathing was labored. Feeling of Legolas's neck for a pulse, the man frowned to note that it was faint and rapid.

Since all of the howlers were dead, there didn't seem to be any further danger to the little group. That would give him time to tend to the wounds that they had all sustained.

Mindful of Legolas's injuries, the ranger carefully pulled him away from the boulder and laid him on his back. Not seeing any wound that seemed to be bleeding enough to warrant immediate attention, Aragorn lifted the wood elf and began walking down the trail.

"Este, where are you going?" Elrohir asked. "Those creatures are all dead. We do not need to leave right away."

"I know," the man answered without turning around. "But I want us to get away from the snow and those hideous bodies. We can stop a little farther down and tend to our wounds there." He really wanted to keep going until they reached the valley but knew that would have to wait.

The twins looked at each other and began to follow their youngest brother and their friend past the mountain’s snowline toward the slightly warmer rocks of the lower trail.

TBC

Chapter Eighteen

The sun was steadily moving behind the summit of Black Mountain. Aragorn, Legolas and the Rivendell twins were able to keep well ahead of the resulting shadows cast by the jagged peak. The shadows would not be too dark to hamper Aragorn from checking what damage had been done to each of them by the howlers, however, he preferred to work in direct sunlight. There was less chance of missing something that way, and he knew from experience that even something seemingly insignificant could turn into something potentially dangerous.

Well ahead of the receding edge of the sunshine, Aragorn continued to walk, while keeping an eye out for a suitable place to stop. He soon found an area of flat rock and halted. Turning to his left, he said, “Elrohir, would you clear away those loose pebbles on that flat area and lay your cloak down there?” The man indicated the spot he was referring to with the jerk of his head in that direction.

The younger twin immediately knelt down and used his uninjured arm and hand to sweep away the little rocks that littered the trail. He cleared an area big enough to accommodate the blond elf in Aragorn’s arms. Elrohir then removed his cloak and folded it lengthwise so the bloodstains that had soaked into it from his wounded arm were turned under.

Aragorn carefully laid Legolas down on the elven cloak and straightened up, stretching his back a little as he did so. He knew that Legolas had probably sustained more wounds, but he saw only a small amount of black blood on his friend. Legolas would be all right for the moment, so the man turned his attention to his brothers.

Elrohir had more red blood on him than anyone, although that was not always an accurate indicator of the seriousness of a wound. Aragorn glanced at Elladan. “Do you have any wounds that need immediate attention?”

Elladan shook his head. “A few scratches only.” He gave his youngest brother a small smile. He was very familiar with the look the human was giving him. He had seen it often enough. It clearly said, “Are you telling me the truth?” He laughed. “Tend to Elrohir, Estel. I can wait.” He said it with as much conviction as he could. The elf kept the worry he felt for Elrohir and Legolas out of his voice. Estel did not need any added pressure.

Running his eyes quickly over the eldest elf and satisfied that Elladan was truly not trying to fool him the way Legolas usually did, Aragorn turned his attention to the younger twin. “Elrohir, sit down and let me have a look at you.”

When the elf obliged, Aragorn conducted his examination. He flinched when he pulled Elrohir’s sleeve up and saw the ring of teeth marks in the elf’s flesh. Except for the fact that the holes were not as deep and there was no swollen infection, it looked just like the wound in Legolas’s shoulder. A more thorough examination showed that Elrohir’s arm was the only body part that had taken an injury.

Aragorn looked around for his pack and realized with a jolt that it was not there, It must have been left behind. So, it appeared, had the other three. It was expected that Elladan and Elrohir would have dropped them so they would be able to fight more effectively. It was not expected that they had all forgotten to bring them when they left.

Elladan had seen Aragorn searching near him and quickly figured out what the man was looking for. “We left the packs,” he said with a sudden flash of anger and dismay that they could have just walked off and not given them a second thought. “I will go back and retrieve them.” He turned to leave.

Aragorn’s voice stopped him. “Elladan, while you’re there, please get as much blood as you can from some of those creatures. We need it, if we are to make an antidote.”

The elder twin nodded and began the climb back up the trail. How many times had he gone up and down this rocky path? ‘Too many,‘ he answered himself grimly. ‘It will soon be worn down into a trench.’ He vowed that once he got what he needed and came back down, this trail would never see his feet again.

Elladan returned his mind to the task at hand. He would retrieve the packs and get as much of the black blood as he was able. It looked as if all four of them were going to be in need of it, and he was sure that the longer it remained in the dead bodies, the more useless it would become. He increased his pace.

Once out of sight of the others, Elladan had put his hand on the wound on his neck. He had been truthful with Estel, knowing the wound wasn’t a particularly bad one. In fact, he was probably the least seriously wounded of the four of them. But even so, it was beginning to ache more than just the annoying sting it had been before now. The elf shook his head in dismissal and continued on up the mountain trail.

When Elrond’s eldest son arrived at the spot of the recent fight, he stopped and surveyed the small battleground. Howler bodies littered the snow. Some of the creatures were without heads, one had the lower part of its leg severed, and the rest had wounds of varying types---al fatal.

Normally, Elladan didn’t gloat at seeing carnage, even when it was necessary. Like all peace-loving beings, he wanted everyone to get along and live their lives according to the desires of their hearts. But when those desires involved killing or enslaving the free peoples of Middle-earth, the stakes changed dramatically and battles to the death often resulted. Now with the increase in Shadow upon the land, battles large and small were more numerous and more desperate.

Gruesome as the scene before him was, the elf couldn’t help but smile. These creatures had been vicious and had possessed no qualities worthy of redemption.

The howlers may also end up being responsible for taking the life of Mirkwood’s youngest prince, although the very thought of the possibility of losing Legolas caused Elladan a deep pain in his heart. If the howler leader was telling the truth, the lives of him and his brothers would be forfeit as well. Elladan unconsciously reached up and touched his neck again.

With a sigh, Elladan looked more intently at the area around him. He knew exactly where he had been standing when he had tossed aside the two packs he had been carrying. It took him a moment longer to locate the two packs Elrohir had been responsible for. They were partially hidden by a howler body lying in the snow at the base of a large boulder on the other side of the trail.

Rounding the four packs up, he knelt down and opened his own well-worn one and found a small drinking cup. He didn’t look forward to trying to obtain the black blood of the howlers. Without a pumping heart to move the blood, Elladan knew he would have to virtually dig it out of their bodies. It needed to be done, however. Estel had to have it to make the antidote, though how that would be accomplished, Elladan had no idea. Unfortunately, he didn’t think Estel did either.

With the cup in one hand and his knife in the other, Elladan walked up to the nearest howler and stared down at it. This was the one with the severed leg. He shook his head. It had bled to death and would probably not have much blood left in its body.

He turned to a creature a few feet away and knelt down beside it, ready to complete his important but unpleasant task. As he held both cup and knife next to the howler body, he was sure of one thing: no matter how well it was cleaned, he knew he would never drink from that cup again.

~*~*~

Elrohir hissed as Aragorn held his arm firmly to better examine the bite marks. Each tooth mark had a little trail of blood trickling down from it. Most of the blood he had shed had ended up on his cloak. Other than that, the wound looked relatively clean. That was surprising, considering the decided filthiness of the howlers’ teeth. Of course, he reminded himself, looks were often deceiving.

Aragorn looked up at Elrohir’s somewhat anxious face. The younger twin was rarely fearful of what a wound might do to him. He took things as they came. However, he had seen what a howler bite had done to Legolas.

Pushing his fear aside, Elrohir made the same observation that Aragorn had thought a moment ago. “It looks like the wound on Legolas’s shoulder.” He forced a grin. “Of course, they were both caused by the same thing.”

Aragorn returned the grin. “And to think that Elladan doesn’t believe you have any powers of deduction.”

“Oh he thinks that, does he?” Elrohir replied. He had a very ‘I’ll-show-him’ note to his voice.

The seriousness of the situation soon overtook them both, when Aragorn said, “There is more athelas in my pack. I hope it’ll help.”

“It did not help Legolas,” Elrohir pointed out, though it was hardly a revelation. Seeing the man’s expression of failure, the elf put his hand on Aragorn’s arm. “It will work this time.” Both doubted that statement was true, but Aragorn appreciated the effort at encouragement Elrohir was making. “And there is the antidote you will make from the creatures’ blood.”

“Which we do not have,” came a voice from several feet away.

Both Aragon and Elrohir looked up and saw Elladan rounding the titled boulder and approaching with two packs slung over each shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Aragorn asked, not liking the crestfallen look on Elladan’s face. A very bad feeling began to build in the pit of the man’s stomach.

Elladan pulled the straps of the four packs free of his shoulders and set them down near the ranger. He straightened up and looked both of his brothers in the eye. “They are gone.”

For an instant, Aragorn’s heart almost stopped. It did skip a beat. Maybe two. Shaking his head, he said, “I knew they were immortal, but to survive decapitation and...”

Hearing these words, Elladan realized what Aragorn, and probably Elrohir as well, were thinking. “No, Estel. I said that wrong. I do mot mean that the creatures got up and left. They were all dead, just as we killed them. Only...” He found it hard to continue. Describing what had taken place while he was among the howler bodies was going to be challenging.

“Elladan,” Elrohir said, “tell us what has happened.” He saw the difficulty his twin was having, so his voice was soft and encouraging.

Elladan sat down in front of his brothers. But before beginning his story, he glanced at Legolas. “How is he?”

Sighing, Aragorn replied, “The same. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

“And your arm?” Elladan then asked Elrohir.

The younger of the dark-haired elves smiled slightly at what he was about to say. “It is not bad.” He refrained from looking at Estel, who he knew was probably shaking his head. “Tell us your news.”

“I went to the place where we fought the creatures. They were all there, just as we had left them. I found out packs easily enough and got my knife and my drinking cup. I was not looked forward to trying to get the creatures’ blood out of those hideous bodies, but I knew it needed to be done.

“I picked a howler that I thought would yield the most blood and knelt down beside it. It looked just the way it did when it fell. I know because I was the one that killed it. I reached down to roll it over, so I could cut it open.”

Elladan paused, his head shaking from side to side. He was not in the least squeamish, so Aragorn and Elrohir had no idea why he was finding it so hard to talk about cutting open a howler.

Despite the anxious anticipation of what Elladan was about to tell them, neither Aragorn nor Elrohir said a word. They could see that Elladan’s frown had grown deeper in the elf’s fair face.

After taking a deep breath, Elladan continued. “I reached out, and as soon as I touched the creature, it collapsed into a pile of dust.”

Both Aragorn nor Elrohir were struck speechless. Whatever they were expecting to hear, this certainly was a far cry from it. Finally Aragorn managed to get out one word, “Dust?”

Elladan nodded. “I know it sounds crazy. Even watching it happen, I could not believe it myself, so I went to each howler body and touched it, hoping that the next one would not do what the last one had done.

“Each one did the same thing. They each looked normal and then at my touch, they all turned to dust. I have no doubt that a strong wind will come and blow the dust away. Except for the cavern, all evidence of the howlers on the mountain will be gone.”

Aragorn roused himself from his shocked state enough to comment. “They were cursed by Morgoth millennia ago. When they died, I guess they turned into the dust they would have become as mortals who died a normal death all that time ago.” It was pure speculation, but it made sense.

“I do not mourn the creatures‘ loss in itself, even though being cursed was not their choice.” Elladan took a deep breath. and then expressed what he dreaded most of all to say. It was the one thing that he was sure would soon occur to his brothers. “That means I could not obtain any blood.”

Elrohir looked at his twin. “What about the blood that ran into the snow?” He turned to Estel with a note of desperate hope in his voice. “It would be diluted when the snow melted, but could it not still be used somehow?”

“The blood vanished when they did,” Elladan said sadly. “There will be no antidote---for any of us.”

TBC

Chapter Nineteen

A tense silence descended over the small group of four on the lower reaches of Black Mountain. Whatever hope for recovery from their toxic wounds the four had held was now gone. Elladan’s words echoed in the still air. “There will be no antidote---for any of us.” It was a mind-numbing prospect. After all, hadn’t they just heard a declaration of their own doom?

None of them could meet the eyes of the other two. What was the point? The looks they all had were exactly the same. The news Elladan brought was too new to have given them time to sort through any possible chance to find a satisfactory answer. So turning that look on each other now would only re-enforce the reason for it: a feeling of utter hopelessness.

Elrohir was the first to shake himself loose from the stupor his brother’s words had put them all in. He had been the one to ask about the blood in the snow. Now he asked, “Could the dust not have been used?” His question was directed at Aragorn.

The ranger hesitated a moment before shaking his head. His voice was low, as he said, “It does not matter.”

Elrohir bristled. “How can you say that, Estel?’ his voice anything but low. “You told Elladan to bring the blood back to use for an antidote. The blood is in the dust. Why does it suddenly not matter?”

It wasn’t often that the youngest twin became angry with his human brother. More than anyone else in Estel’s life, Elrohir tended to indulge the human, preferring to conspire rather than discipline. It frustrated their father to no end.

“It was a vain hope. I realize that now.” The man finally raised his head and looked at Elrohir. “I had no real way of making an antidote,” he admitted somberly. “Had you brought me the blood, Elladan, I wouldn’t have known where to begin. I don’t have Ada’s workroom available to me, so even if I had an idea of how to do it, I don’t have the other ingredients to mix with it to make it viable and potent. I’m sorry I made you both think otherwise. It’s no consolation to you, I know, but I even talked myself into believing I could do it. I fooled us all.”

“Ada can...” Elrohir began.

“No, Elrohir. He’s too far away. The infection begins and then spreads much too fast. You see what it did to Legolas in little more than a day. None of us would reach Rivendell. Even the healers of Mirkwood are too far from here. We will make it nowhere.”

Another gloomy silence fell over the brothers. Elladan shook his head. “Estel, it is not like you to simply give up.”

Aragorn considered the older twin’s statement. “It’s true that I’ve always refused to give up in any adverse situation I’ve faced, no matter that the odds were clearly against me. More times than I can count, I’ve found some way to accomplish whatever I set my mind to.

“It’s taken me a long time to realize that not all circumstances can be resolved in my favor just because I desire it. Legolas has told me that more than a few times; so have both of you, so has Ada. There are just some things that i can‘t do.” Having to admit that fact was more bitter than the man could express. An incredibly sad look settled over the ranger’s face. “I have finally been forced to accept it.”

The twins exchanged looks. They both shook their heads. Neither had ever seen Estel quite so down. True, the situation they found themselves in was dire, probably as impossible as he said it was, yet he had rarely listened to anyone, who had tried to dissuade him. Seeing the defeat in his eyes now was hard to take.

There had to be something they could do to save first Legolas, who was by far the closest to death, and then themselves.

“There has to be a way,” Elrohir insisted. “We cannot just sit here and watch each other die.” He didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until he heard Estel speak.

“I am all for finding a way, Elrohir. What did you have in mind?” He flinched when he heard the bitterness in his voice. He gave his brother an apologetic look but said nothing.

Elrohir had not taken offence but was forced to admit, “I do not know.”

Aragorn, despite feeling depressed and defeated, was not going to let his brothers’ wounds fester without trying to make them at least as comfortable as he could. So the next several moments were spent tending to the bite wound on Elrohir’s arm and the milder one on Elladan’s neck.

Clean bandages had been retrieved from Aragorn’s pack along with more athelas leaves. The man didn’t think they would do any more good than they had before, but he couldn’t bring himself not to put anything at all on the wounds.

When Aragorn had finished with his brothers, Elladan grabbed the ranger’s left hand and pulled it toward him. There were deep scratches across the back of Aragorn’s hand, which had several drops of dried black blood on them.

The elf looked hopefully at the ranger. “Howler blood.”

Aragorn understood immediately what the elf was thinking. “It’s only a few drops. It wouldn’t be enough to work with even had I the knowledge and means to do it.” Aragorn felt bad that he had to dash his brothers’ hopes yet again.

Elladan sighed. “It was a hope that I spoke of before I thought.” There was still no way there was going to be an antidote. The sooner he accepted that, the easier the burden would be on his mind and heart. He wasn’t at all sure that that was entirely true, but speaking of it did no one any good. Instead he cleaned and bandaged the ranger’s hand and kept his mouth firmly closed.

A soft moan brought all of their attentions to the blond figure lying on the cloak to their right. The ranger and the two dark-haired elves were at Legolas’s side in an instant.

“Legolas?” Aragorn called to his friend. When there was no answer, he leaned over the elf and raised his voice a little. “Legolas, can you hear me?”

With a great deal of effort, the newly conscious elf opened his heavy eyelids, revealing eyes that were dull and unfocused. Several blinks later and they began to clear. The elf, not trusting his voice just yet due to a mouth as dry as sand, simply nodded.

The man relaxed slightly. At least Legolas was able to understand the question. Aragorn had feared the elf’s mind might be even more confused than it had been. The ranger thought back to Legolas‘s remark about the stars, which had been a stark indication of his mental state at the time.

Aragorn didn’t believe that the elf’s overall condition had improved, but still he managed to smile down at the wood elf, when he saw the gaze of the blue-gray eyes fastened onto his face.

When Legolas tried to speak, only a raspy noise came out. He swallowed but was not able to gather enough moisture to ease the ache of dryness in his parched throat.

Elladan, seeking to alleviate the younger elf’s obvious discomfort, reached for his water skin. Lifting Legolas into a sitting position, he handed the skin to Estel, who tilted it so the archer could easily drink from it. Legolas took several swallows, paused and then took several more. The cool water did exactly as it was intended to do by taking the dry, gritty feeling away from the elf‘s mouth and throat. He nodded, when he finally had his fill. “Hannon le,” he said, his voice stronger and much clearer.

When Elladan attempted to lay the prince back down, Legolas shook his head. “No. I wish to stay up.” He looked up at the elder elf, who was still holding on to him. “I can sit on my own.” He smiled to let Elladan know he appreciated the help.

Elladan nodded and gradually released his hold on Legolas, not letting go completely until he was sure the young wood elf could sit up on his own. When he was satisfied, Elladan stood up and moved a few steps away before dropping back down to sit beside Elrohir.

Legolas clenched his teeth in pure determination not to give in to the dizziness that had plagued him for too long a time now. He was not used to the feeling, and he did not like it. Focusing his thoughts on his friends, he tried to force his mind to clear. It worked only to a degree.

Legolas waited for one of his friends to say something. Whenever the four of them were together, there was usually some kind of discussion going on. Now there was only silence. “Is anyone going to say anything?”

“Legolas...” Aragorn began before letting his voice trail off into more silence.

The elf frowned. “Just say it, Estel. I am sure it is nothing I do not already know.”

Aragorn still did not speak. He wouldn’t even meet the blond prince’s eyes. After all, how do you say, ‘You are going to die, Legolas, and there is nothing any of us can to stop it from happening.’ He just couldn’t do it.

Legolas looked to the twins, but even they were silent. There didn’t seem to be anything to do but say it himself and get it out in the open. Maybe then his friends would talk to him. “I am going to die. Is that not so?”

They all knew that keeping quiet was not going to work with this very bright wood elf, though he clearly already knew the truth. Even had he not, none of them would ever have lied to him. They just didn’t want to put the horrible condemnation into words. It hurt too much.

Elladan sighed and began to relate the story---the whole story. He left out nothing that had happened while Legolas had been unconscious. His own words stung him, as he retold the events for a second time, but he forged through every detail of the narration.

The prince’s only visible reaction to the story was the part about the howlers turning to dust. That was completely unexpected, bordering on shocking. When Elladan finished, Legolas just sat without moving or speaking. It seemed that the cloak of silence had descended over him, as well. He was only dimly aware that he was probably feeling the same way his friends were: they were thinking about the others they loved, who were about to die and not about themselves.

As if the mental enormity of the situation wasn’t enough, the world began to tilt and then spin around Legolas. He put both palms down on either side of him on the warm stone. He leaned forward slightly on them for support. He tired to make the maneuver casual, so it wouldn’t attract attention. It seemed to work, as no one questioned his health, for the moment, at least. He knew, however, that it would continue to work only if he didn’t close his eyes, which Estel always considered a sign of misery from the elf whenever he was injured in any way. Legolas forced his eyelids to stay up.

“So we are doomed,” Legolas concluded. He would have smiled had he not thought that might be somewhat inappropriate. He loved his friends and did not want to think of them dying the same way he was, but for some reason beyond his control, the words came out with a touch of humor attached to them. It was probably because he had said those exact words on more than one occasion, when it was certain they were not truly doomed. His words had elicited laughter during those times.

Aragorn easily caught the humor behind the remark and, recognizing it for what it was, just stared at the prince.

Legolas saw the look, of course. “I am sorry, Estel. I know it is a serious situation. I truly do not want to think of us meeting our end out here on Orod Moru. But it occurred to me that we would be dying from the poisoned bites of creatures that no longer even exist. It is ironic, is it not?”

“The infection’s effects have muddled your thinking, mellon nin,” the ranger remarked. “Yet I understand what you’re saying. I hadn’t even thought of that.” He ranger shook his head. “Ironic indeed.”

“We have all been through much in our lifetimes. It was only natural to expect we would meet our end one way or another on one of our adventures.” Aragon looked at the three elves. “How many times have we escaped death, when we should not have.”

It was no surprise, when they all nodded. “I should have succumbed to Mordraug,” Legolas said, his mind drifting back to his encounter with the dark elf that had killed his mother and almost killed him, actually had killed him, in fact. He shook that memory free. If his time left in Middle-earth was limited, he was not going to spend any more of it thinking about that evil creature.

A more serious look came over the archer’s pale features. “Estel, I do not want to die here. Can we not go down to the valley, get the horses and then make our way into the forest. I want to die there, among the trees.”

The elf had spoken so casually about his impending death, he might have been discussing his wardrobe for the day. Then the man realized that Legolas had completely accepted the fact he was going to die. It was not a case of denial hidden behind false bravado. He had come to terms with it.

Looking closely at the archer’s blue-gray eyes, though, showed the man the grief residing there for what would soon befall his friends. And it mattered not when thinking of the death of a mortal or an immortal. When a mortal died any time short of old age, it was sad, because their life spans were so incredibly short to begin with and to end too early was a tragedy. Was the ending of a life that was not meant to end at all even more of a tragedy? Aragorn believed it was.

Aragorn then shrugged and offered a small smile. Their fate was now decided and accepted, so it was time to enjoy each other‘s company as they always had for as long as they were able to share it. He nodded. “I would prefer that myself,” he agreed. He then looked at his brothers. They both nodded in turn. They weren’t wood elves, but dying in the forest was certainly preferable to doing it out here on the black granite slopes of this mountain.

Standing up, Aragorn reached down and pulled Legolas to his feet. “I will carry you.”

“No, Estel. I will walk.” He didn’t think he would make it all the way to the valley, but he would go until he dropped. He just hoped he could reach the trees alive.

While Aragorn and Legolas, leaning on the man for support, started down the mountain, the twins rounded up their packs and Elrohir’s cloak. They were all at last leaving this accursed place, but not without thinking that what had taken place here would alter the lives of their families and friends. There was no way to change that now, so they began to make their way down the trail.

~*~*~

It took less than half an hour, even moving slowly to accommodate Legolas’s pace, for the four to finally find themselves stepping from black rock onto the green grass and soft dirt of earth. The yield of it under their feet as they continued on was most welcome after having tread on so much stone.

Elrohir, his arm hurting more than he was willing to let on, ignored it and went off to get the horses in the smaller valley where he had left them.

When he finally reached it, a sharp whistle bought the four horses running, crowding around the elf in joyful greeting. Mounting his horse, Elrohir headed back to where his brothers and Legolas were making their now painfully slow way toward the edge of the forest ahead of them.

When Elrohir reached them, the three on the ground mounted. Legolas insisted on riding alone. He had to assure Aragorn several times before the ranger would accept that the elf could stay mounted without help. “I have been riding since before I could walk, Estel.”

“Yes, mellon nin, but you were not wounded before you could walk,” the man replied sternly.

“Are you so sure?” Elrohir asked. “He has been injured so often, he must have had a very early start.”

The remark earned Elrohir a very hard glare from the Prince of Mirkwood. However, it was hard to become angry at the youngest twin, since he was actually right. Legolas clearly remembered being injured in a bridge collapse when he was a small child. That little incident would remain his secret.

The one thing that Legolas appreciated the most right then was the fact that even their impending deaths had not changed the way the four dealt with each other. Their long association together often covered an array of emotions. Humor was chief among them, and it was not being abandoned now. For without it, they would surely have all lapsed into depressing gloom.

As soon as they entered the forest, Legolas heard the lament of the trees. They whispered their sad regrets to him. Seeing any of the Firstborn fade brought sorrow to the forest, but the passing of a wood elf, in particular, was a pain to its ancient heart.

Legolas looked around at the beautiful trees that surrounded him and whispered, “Do not be sad, my friends. It is well. I am not afraid.”

TBC

Chapter Twenty

Legolas’s words provided a small balm to the trees’ fears for his future. They could feel what was in the elf’s heart, and there was no doubt about the sincerity of what he had told them. Their soft weeping faded and was quickly replaced by soothing whispers of comfort. They would do their best to ease the passing of this silvan elf, how ever long he remained with them.

The twins, while not wood elves and thus not as attuned to the trees’ song as Legolas was, still felt the change in the whispers that swirled around them.

Elladan leaned close to Estel and whispered to his human brother, “They comfort him.” His eyes never left Legolas‘s upturned face.

Aragorn nodded and attempted a smile. Even though his face was not entirely successful in showing it, he truly was glad that the trees that Legolas so loved would ease his friend’s heart, at least a little. He glanced at Elrohir and then back at Elladan. “Do they also comfort the two of you?”

“They do,“ Elladan replied, as he felt the mood in the forest would also be meant for any elf in their midst. Looking at Aragorn, the elf said, “You are also a child of Ilúvatar, Estel. The forest offers peace to us all.”

The four companions continued riding deeper into the luxuriant forest, when suddenly Legolas turned his gray stallion, Elenblaith, to the left. Leaving the dirt trail they had been following, he began weaving his way through the thick tees. The stallion’s steps were unerring in avoiding dips, raised rocks, exposed roots and any other obstacles that presented themselves.

After traveling this way for several moments, Legolas entered and then stopped in a small clearing. It was ringed with large oaks, forming an almost perfect circle. The murmur of water bubbling over a rocky streambed could easily be heard not far off to their right. It offered a soothing sound all its own.

Legolas, his gaze still on the trees, swayed, looking as if he was about to fall off his horse.

The ranger, who was moving up on the elf’s right. He was frowning. “Are you feeling unwell?” He almost laughed at himself. ’That was a stupid question,’ he chided silently.

Legolas turned his gaze from the leafy branches over his head to his friend’s concerned face. “Do not worry, Estel. Elenblaith will not let me fall.”

As if to verify the truth of his master’s words, the stallion shifted his weight and stepped to the left, as he felt Legolas start to lean that way. However, no amount of effort on the horse’s part was going to keep Legolas on his back indefinitely. The elf was beginning to lose his battle with the darkness that was constantly encroaching on his awareness.

The horse’s step had taken Legolas out of the Aragorn’s reach But when the ranger saw that the elf was still firmly seated, he fought the urge to move over and grab his friend.

With a knowing smile, Legolas swept his right arm before him to indicate the clearing. “This is the place.”

Puzzled, Aragorn said, “What do you mean?”

“This is the place where I wish to...fade.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Do you all agree?” He asked, because they were all in the same situation, and he didn’t think it fair that he should make the decision for the others.

A quick glance among the brothers told them each that the other two agreed. It was a beautiful spot. Other than Imladris, they could think of no better place to leave this world than here. “It is perfect, Legolas,” Elladan said.

Aragorn dismounted, followed by Elladan and Elrohir. Legolas remained seated upon Elenblaith’s back. No matter how determined he was to function independently, he had to face reality. If he attempted to get down unaided, he knew he would fall on his face. Ordinarily that would have been exceedingly embarrassing for him. Of course, ordinarily he would never have worried about falling in the first place. What it boiled down to for him was not to cause his friends any further worry on his behalf. He knew, though, that in the end, it was a futile hope.

Before the elf could do or say anything, Aragorn was standing by his side, arms raised, ready to grasp the elf and help him down. He grinned, when Legolas sighed and allowed the man to aid him to the ground.

Legolas pointed to the base of a large, sturdy oak. The ranger helped him to the indicated spot and lowered the elf to sit on a soft patch of ground between two large roots that snaked their way from the tree for several feet before disappearing into the earth. The elf released a deep breath, as his body relaxed against the rough bark.

The pain in his shoulder, which he had tried vainly to ignore while they were traveling, now reasserted itself in full. He resolutely held back a grimace of discomfort.

“I will gather some wood for a fire,” Elrohir said. It would be dark in less than an hour, and he knew they would all want a fire blazing before the night descended. He, like the others, believed they were fairly safe where they were, but there was no guarantee. Besides allowing them to cook their evening meal, the fire would give ordinary, hunting carnivores second thoughts about attacking what they might otherwise consider easy prey.

While the younger twin was gone, Elladan and Aragorn took care of the horses, pulling all the packs off of them, along with the ranger’s saddle and bridle and then sending the mounts off to the stream to refresh themselves and then graze. The packs were set together at the edge of the clearing.

The ranger then began going through the packs to find what food might still be left. He didn’t think there would be much left, and was a bit dismayed, when he found that to be true. He and his brother also brought out their small cooking pot, cups, utensils and plates.

“There doesn’t seem to be much to put on those plates,” the ranger commented somewhat forlornly, looking at the flat metal disks and trying not to picture them heaped up with the kind of delicious fare to be found at his father‘s table in Rivendell. He hadn’t eaten since the night before, and remembering what he ate when he was home only made him hungrier.

Aragorn had already forcefully pushed aside the thought that there wasn’t much point in eating, considering what was going to happen to them. Their fate may have been decided, but for as long as they had left, things were going to be as normal as he could make them, and that included meals.

Elladan caught the look the ranger had given the empty plates and laughed. “Do not worry, Estel. I will find us something to eat.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn replied gratefully. His tone was light. However, his whole demeanor changed, when he looked over at Legolas.

The blond elf was still sitting with his back against the old oak tree. Now he had both arms extended down beside him, the palms of his hands resting on the two exposed roots he sat between, and his fingers spread around the rough bark. His head was back, and his eyes were closed. It appeared to the ranger that the elf was trying to draw strength from the tree, something he had seen Legolas do many times. ‘Good,’ he thought. ‘He needs all the strength he can get. As do we all,’ he added with a sigh.

Just then Elrohir arrived with an arm load of twigs and small branches. He set them down and pulled his knife from its sheath. Plunging it into the ground, the elf began to dig a small depression where he arranged the smallest twigs. Using his flint stone, he had a fire going in short order.

While the fire was being coaxed into being, Aragorn took all four of the water skins and followed the sounds of the bubbling water to its source. The crystal clear water was only a foot or so deep, making it easy to see the colorful stones that littered the course of the streambed. The horses, he noted, were several yards downstream, grazing on the tender new grass that lined both sides of the water.

Aragorn bent down, unstoppered the container belonging to him and held it underwater with the opening against the current until it was full. Replacing the stopper on it, he quickly repeated the process with each of the remaining skins.

Soon the ranger was back in the little clearing. He thought briefly of stopping to see if Legolas wanted any of the fresh water, but when he saw how at one with the tree Legolas was and not wanting to interrupt, he simply set the water skin down within Legolas’s reach and moved toward the fire.

He smiled when he heard Legolas say, “Thank you, Estel.” He looked back and saw the elf’s eyes still closed. He was used to his friend’s senses informing him what was going on around him, but still it never failed to amaze him. It brought home to him yet again that he had never once been able to sneak up on the wood elf, even if Legolas had no idea he was anywhere in the area.

His laugh made the elf smile. He knew exactly what Estel was thinking.

A few minutes later, Elladan returned with three fish and a large bunch of wild onions in his hands. He stared at his human brother, who was groaning loudly. “What?” Elladan asked.

“Oh nothing. I was expecting rabbits, that’s all.”

“Why rabbits?”

“We could just skin them, hair and all, in a matter of seconds. Fish have to be scraped and scraped to get them scaled. It takes more time.”

“Afraid of doing a little work, ranger?” Elladan asked, his tone more amused than mocking.

“No,“ the man replied indignantly. “I’m just hungry.”

“You will not starve, Estel.” Elrohir suddenly clamped his mouth shut. He looked horrified at the implication of his words: that they wouldn‘t be alive long enough to starve. “I am sorry. I...”

“It’s all right, Elrohir,” Aragorn assured him. “We are going to carry on as normal as possible for as long as we have left. No apologies.” The last two words were spoken like a command.

“I do not want us to alter the way we act with each other,” came a voice from several feet away. When the three brothers turned and looked, they saw Legolas smiling at them. “I want us to be...us.”

“Agreed,” Aragorn remarked, and without missing a beat, said. “So I repeat, I’m hungry.”

“That is certainly normal,” Legolas said. His comment drew a glare from the ranger.

The three elves couldn’t hold back their laughter, and Aragorn thought that the musical sound of it would be one of the things he would miss the most about being separated from these elves. He was warmed, though, by the thought that at least the three of them would be together.

It took a little longer to prepare than skinning a rabbit would have, but soon the fish had been cleaned by the twins and were now skewered on a stick stripped of bark and rigged so that they hung horizontally over the fire.

Soon enough to please even the hungry human, the fish were sizzling over the flames, creating an enticing aroma that was carried in the smoke swirling around the clearing. It made all four of the companion’ mouths water.

By the time the formerly empty plates were filled with the smoky fish, the sun had set. Darkness tried to encroach on the clearing, but the flickering flames held it at bay, as they cast their golden glow around the circle. The firelight mingled with the silver light of the full moon, which filtered through the leafy boughs above.

The wild onions had been boiled with flavorful herbs and were soft and pungent, making them a perfect compliment to the flame-roasted fish.

Legolas, using the tree for both comfort and support, hadn’t moved from the large oak, but the clearing was small enough so that he was close to both the fire and his friends. He ate his food slowly and was still eating when the others had finished.

He noticed that Aragorn was itching to make some comment, but the man held his tongue. The elf was grateful for that. He wasn’t well. He was, of course, dying. Denying it would be senseless, at this point, and bringing it up, yet again, would only cause more heartache, so he held his own tongue. They had all agreed to ignore their condition, so they could be themselves for as long as they could do so.

Smiling, Legolas said, “You certainly know how to find a tasty meal, Elladan”.

“Thank you, Legolas,” the elder twin replied. “I am glad that someone appreciates my efforts.” The elf couldn’t hold back a grin. “I worked very hard to catch those fish.”

“Catch? You shot them with arrows.” the ranger pointed out, knowing exactly how his brother had ‘caught’ the fish.

“You can always go and shoot your own meal, you know.”

“Now, Elladan, I’ve always valued your efforts,” Aragorn told his oldest brother. “Actually it’s Elrohir who complains behind your back about you being a slacker and always taking the easy way of doing things.” If they were going to act normal, instigating an argument between the twins was definitely in order.

“Oh does he now?” Elladan turned a particularly withering gaze on his younger twin. “Next time I will let you go and find us something to eat. I will wager you cannot find anything worth eating.”

“That is a definite wager,” Elrohir answered, excepting the challenge with relish. “Just because you are older...”

The argument continued for a while, eliciting a huge triumphant grin from the human, proud of himself for stirring the whole thing up. There was also a small smile from the blond prince.

Aragorn had scooted back a bit until he was almost even with Legolas.

The elf shook his head and laughed softly. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Estel,” though he knew the ranger wasn’t the least bit ashamed.

Aragorn had been stirring up trouble between his elven brothers for as long as Legolas had known him, and if the twins were aware their brother deliberately manipulated them to get them going so he could sit back and enjoy the show, they never gave any indication.

In truth, they had figured out long ago what Estel was doing, but they enjoyed the ‘arguments’ with each other, so they said nothing to dampen their human brother‘s enthusiasm and sense of triumph.

Once every morsel of the meal was consumed and the plates and utensils cleaned in the stream by Aragorn, the four companions sat quietly together.

One of the things the four had always done was talk about the future. They told each other of the things they planned to do or the places they hoped to go. That was off limits now. They had no future, so discussing it in terms of ‘I wish I could...’ or “I had hoped to...’ would be a waste of time. No one wanted to admit it, but it also just plain hurt too much, because no matter how much they had come to terms with their forthcoming demise, none of them wanted to face this death.

The only thing to do now was talk about the past. And talk about it they did, covering so many of the adventures that came to mind.

They also revealed little secrets they had kept from each other and confessed to things they had been guilty of doing, when someone else had been accused of the deed. Consequently there were a lot of expressions of, “You are the one that did that?”

They sang, and they laughed. It would have been impossible for an outsider to understand how they could have engaged in such a joyous evening under their present circumstances. If they had known these four well, it would have been completely understandable. To the four themselves, it was simply one of the happiest fireside evenings they had spent, even those they recalled in the Last Homely House’s Hall of Fire.

Despite the fact they were determined to stay up all night and greet the sun, while continuing their time together, the toxin in their bodies continued doing its work. So long before dawn, all three elven warriors and the human ranger were deep in troubled, restless sleep.

TBC

Chapter Twenty One

Elladan was the first to wake up. He opened his eyes, and immediately realized that he had been asleep with them closed. Right behind that came the memory of why he had been sleeping that way. ‘My body was trying to heal itself,’ he thought.

It took him a moment longer to take stock of his condition. To his immense relief, he felt fine. Even the bite wound on his neck no longer hurt. He reached up to feel of if and was surprised to note that the teeth marks had almost closed up. They were definitely on the mend. But how? he wondered. How had he been able to heal what should be getting worse not better?

Elladan sat up and looked at his twin, sleeping beside him. He was anxious to find out if what had happened to him had also happened to Elrohir. He reached over and shook his brother.

Elrohir woke immediately. Looking around, he sat up, and when his eyes came to rest on Elladan’s face, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Let me see your left arm.”

The request puzzled Elrohir, and it was reflected in his furrowed brow. Nevertheless, he extended his arm.

Not taking the time to explain just then, Elladan took Elrohir’s arm in both of his hands. He pulled his brother’s sleeve up, unwound the bandage and inspected the bite marks.

Elrohir knew his brother well enough to know that Elladan had a good reason for doing what he was doing and was not likely to explain himself until he finished his examination.

It didn’t take long for Elrohir, looking down on his own arm, to see that the bite marks had nearly healed. It was the same way Elladan’s wound had done, although he didn’t know that at the time. “I do not understand,” was his stunned comment.

“Neither do I, brother, but my wound has done the exact same thing.” The two just stared at each other.

“If our wounds are healing, is the poison gone from our bodies, as well? Does this mean we are not dying?” Elrohir asked in confusion and no small amount of hope.

Elladan just shook his head. “I have no more answers than you do. We must check Estel.”

Both elves made their way over to the human, lying on his side with his back to them. They rolled him over on his back and shook him.

Aragorn’s eyes snapped open. He was only mildly startled to see both of his brothers hovering over him. “What? Is something wrong?” He tried to sit up quickly but was held down by Elladan’s firm hand. He wasn’t going to let Estel sit up until his condition was determined.

“That depends,” Elladan answered. “Let us see your hand, Estel.”

The ranger was no less puzzled than Elrohir had been, when the same request had been made to him, but also like Elrohir he held out his hand, knowing without being told, which one was being asked for. He looked at both of his brothers closely but could not read anything in their neutral expressions. He had grown up with these elves, and he could usually read them pretty well, but when they wanted to hide their emotions from him, they could do it.

Elladan unwrapped the bandage on the man’s hand. The deep scratches were not even close to being healed. The elf sighed. “How do yo feel, Estel?” He put his hand on the man’s forehead and couldn’t hold back a smile, when no fever was detected.

Aragorn, who had been awakened so suddenly he hadn’t had time to assess his condition, did so now. He felt weary, like he had been running uphill all morning. His hand did not hurt the way it had the night before, but it was sore. He could easily tell that just by having the bandage removed from it.

Fearing the man would tell him he was fine just because that’s what he usually did to forestall worry on his family‘s part, Elladan adopted a stern tone when he asked, “Be honest, Estel. It is important. How do you really feel?”

Aragorn knew that he had to tell the truth this time. “I feel tired.”

“Is that all? Are you in any pan?”

“Yes and no, in that order,” He didn’t think the soreness counted. That wasn’t really the kind of pain Elladan was referring to. As for the first question, he could honestly say he felt nothing else wrong. “Please tell me what is going on.”

“Think about it, Estel. Do you not think we should be in much worse shape than we are in right now, considering the speed with which the poison affected Legolas? Look at this.”

Both elves showed their bite wounds. The ranger just stared at them. After a moment, he grabbed both of them in a tight embrace, “You are healed...or close enough to it. That’s wonderful.” The look on his face was pure joy. “How?”

“We do not know,” Elrohir replied. “Elladan woke me up and we compared wounds.” He almost laughed at the sound of that statement but kept going without any side comments. “We both feel well. We had to check to see if you were also well.”

“I am human, so there is no way to tell for sure, except that my hand is definitely not infected, and it would be by this time, if it was going to get that way.” He marveled at his own words. “That must mean...”

The ranger didn’t finish the sentence but instead looked over to where Legolas was still sitting against the large oak tree. The elf was sound asleep, eyes also closed.

Aragorn was at his side in an instant. He gently shook Legolas’s uninjured shoulder and called his name, fully expecting him to open his eyes and react the same way he himself had. But there was no response.

Thinking his friend was in a very deep sleep, he toyed with the idea of leaving him be. But he had to know how his friend fared, so he tried again to rouse the wood elf. When there was still no response, the man gently pulled the tunic and shirt on the elf’s left shoulder down, hoping the state of the wound would give him an insight as to the elf‘s condition. He, of course, was hoping it would look the same way as those of his brothers. He began unwrapping the bandage.

The horrible bite marks looked the same: red, swollen and badly infected. Fear gripped Aragorn‘s heart like the iron grasp of icy fingers, as he felt of Legolas’s forehead. Heat was still radiating from the elf‘s skin. The ranger‘s shoulders slumped. “I do not understand.”

Aragorn then shook Legolas harder, and putting his mouth near the elf’s ear, called his name loudly. There was still no answering word or movement from the Mirkwood prince.

Aragorn sat back on his heals and stared at his brothers, shaking his head. “Why have we begun to heal, and he hasn’t? It makes no sense.”

The twins had no answer for their brother or themselves. It truly did not make any sense. They were elves, as Legolas was. They were getting better. Even Estel, who, as a human, was much more susceptible to illness, was at least no worse off than he had been the day before. And it looked like he would suffer no further ill effects from the howler attack.

Aragorn, ever the healer, felt of the elf’s pulse and listened to his heartbeat. Both were barely detectable. The man shook his head more vehemently. “There has to be an answer for this mystery.” He looked again at the twins. “There has to be.”

“He was bitten two days ago. The poison from that and the infection has had longer to work on him,” Elrohir offered, barely able to speak.

“Then why did he not get better yesterday, his second day, as we got better today, our second day?” It was a logical question.

Elladan worked the puzzle over in his head. “Maybe Elrohir just gave us the answer.” When both of his brothers looked at him, he continued. “Legolas had both the bite and an infection. The two together may be what is making him worse instead of allowing him to heal.”

“That might explain why we are not ill, but then why did we not become infected, as he did?” the younger twin asked.

When no answer was forthcoming, Aragorn reached out, gripped Legolas under his arms, careful not to disturb his left shoulder, and pulled him up and away from the tree. Then he turned and laid him down on the soft earth near where the fire pit was located. He leaned over the elf and gently took his left hand and lay it on top of one of the oak’s large roots. Aragorn couldn’t bring himself to break Legolas’s connection with the tree.

It was then that Elladan and Elrohir became aware of the mournful sound of the trees, who were once again whispering their despair. The twins didn’t know if Estel could somehow feel it, but a quick glance between them told the other that they weren’t going to mention it. Estel was upset enough.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Elrohir asked, not taking his eyes from the flushed face of his elven friend.

Elladan sighed. “He is in the same condition we believed we would be in today, and we had given up on ourselves, because there was no help for us. There is still no help.” The elder dark-haired twin almost winced at the harshness he heard in his own voice.

The words the man then spoke were bitter. “Knowing that we had all been fated to die here had been acceptable, for the reason Elladan just gave. Knowing that the three of us will now live, while Legolas may not is not acceptable.” Aragorn was careful to use the words ‘may‘.

Elladan asked, “How has anything changed, Estel? I want Legolas to live as much as you do. But what can we do now that we could not do before?”

Aragorn clenched his teeth and shook his head. He had no answer, as he turned a solemn face toward his brothers. “But I do know one thing: I will not lose him like this!”

There was nothing the twins could say to counter what their human brother had just said, for deep down they felt the same way. Yet the hopelessness of the situation could not be brushed aside simply because they wanted it that way.

The ensuing silence was almost deafening. But it was soon filled with low moans. All three brothers’ attentions were focused on the figure lying on the ground before them.

Aragorn leaned over the blond elf and gripped his right shoulder. “Legolas. Mellon nin. Can you hear me?” He wanted to shout but held his voice in check, forcing himself to speak normally instead. “Legolas.”

The elf turned his head toward the sound and slowly opened his eyes. He stared at the man, and there was no recognition in his eyes.

Aragorn saw the blank stare, and inwardly groaned, yet he refused to admit what his mind was telling him. “Legolas?”

The archer blinked but gave no other sign that he heard or understood the word spoken to him. Instead, he grimaced and reached his right hand up to touch his left shoulder, which he was dimly aware was the source of the intense pain he was feeling.

Aragorn reached out and took hold of Legolas’s hand and gently pulled it away, knowing that even the lightest touch on the infected wound would send spasms of agony through the elf‘s weakened body. He lay Legolas’s arm across his stomach and kept his hand over it until he was sure the archer wasn’t going to try again to touch his wound.

Legolas didn’t resist. In fact, he didn’t react at all, except to follow Aragorn‘s movements with his eyes, meekly accepting whatever was being done to him. The man was dismayed, because he didn‘t think Legolas was mentally capable of understanding anything at this point.

The elf’s blue-gray eyes glittered from fever and pain. After another moment, he closed his eyes and let out a breath. A second one did not follow it for a long time. Aragorn was about to grab Legolas and shake him, if necessary, when the elf’s chest rose slightly, and he inhaled and then exhaled another breath. The ones that followed came much too slowly. By contrast, Legolas’s heartbeat began to double its pace and was racing much too fast. It couldn’t go on like this for long before it gave out completely.

“Please, Eru,” Aragorn pleaded. “Do not take him. You spared him once before for a reason. Please do so again. He can‘t have fulfilled his purpose yet.”

The ranger did not even notice that both Elladan and Elrohir had each put a hand on his shoulder and were squeezing it tightly. They had also put their hands on Legolas’s head and bowed their heads, their lips moving in silent prayers of their own.

“No!” Aragorn suddenly said, jerking his own head up and turning it toward Elladan and Elrohir. “We cannot just sit here and give up. He is too near death for us to spare the time for our own fears and sorrows. We have to figure out why he is being affected differently than we are. I can‘t help thinking that we’re missing something, something that might save him.”

The three brothers separated and each sat down, Aragorn in the middle. “We have to figure this out. Let’s take stock of what we know.”

Elrohir started. “We were all bitten by the howlers, so that alone is not the answer.”

“Good. Then we can eliminate just the bite,” Aragorn told them. “What else?”

“Elrohir and I were bitten but did not get an infection.”

“I was bitten, too, and I have no infection,” Aragorn stated. “But that leads to the question of why Legolas got the infection. His elven healing ability should have prevented that.”

“The blood,” Elrohir cried with sudden remembrance. “Legolas was bitten and swallowed howler blood.”

“Yes, of course. We forgot about the blood,” Aragorn agreed, fighting the urge to slap himself on the forehead. “All right. You two ingested no blood, and with no infection that puts you in the clear. The only thing you both have in common with Legolas is the bite, and we‘ve dismissed the bite alone as being the cause of his illness.”

“But you, Estel, had scratches caused by howler teeth, equivalent to a bite, and you also had howler blood on the wounds, so using that logic, you should have developed an infection, too.”

“It still makes no sense. Why am I not...” he avoided the word that came unbidden to his mind. “Why am I not sick like Legolas?” He let out a deep breath. “I say again that we are missing something. It’s probably staring us right in the face.”

“Could it be that Legolas swallowed the blood and you had it absorbed into the cuts?” Elrohir asked. He was beginning to feel like he was just throwing out any idea that came to mind. But he knew they couldn’t afford to overlook anything that might lead to a solution.

“I don’t think that matters,” Aragorn replied. “I don’t believe that how it got into our systems is important, only that it got there.” He couldn’t be positive that was the case, but he would have been willing to make a sizable wager that he was right.

No one said anything, as they each tried to sort through the deadly puzzle. It seemed that they had reached another dead end in their reasoning.

The answer was there. Aragorn, in particular, was sure of it. And to make matters worse, he thought that it would end up being a very simple answer as to why he and Legolas had both bite marks in their flesh and howler blood in their bodies, and yet he was fine while Legolas was dying.

The man felt like he was trying to grab a handful of smoke. Why wouldn’t the answer come to any of them? Why did it remain just out of their reach? Were he and his brothers destined to just sit in ignorance while Legolas’s body shut down, and his spirit faded before their eyes?

TBC

Chapter Twenty Two

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the minds of the two elven twins and their human brother were busily at work trying to solve the puzzle of why Legolas was dying and Estel was not.

“What is the difference between Legolas and me?” Aragorn finally asked, tossing aside the twig he had been idly twirling between his fingers, seemingly mesmerized by the action of the tiny leaves as they whirled around the spinning piece of wood. He hadn’t asked the question like he didn’t know the answer. He knew it, of course, but he wanted to hear it said back to him, so he could make sure that the answer that was dawning on him wasn’t going to be another dead end.

Elladan and Elrohir looked at him, as if he had grown a second head. At that point, Aragorn would have been happy for that; It would give him another brain to put toward the solution.

Elladan, quickly recovering from the absurdity of the question, said, “You are a human, Estel. Legolas is an elf.”

“Exactly!” Aragorn said sharply. “The only way the bite and the blood would cause Legolas to become infected and me not to is the fact that he is an elf. Therefore, the combination of bite and blood affects only elves.”

The twins nodded. That reasoning made sense to them.

“It must affect only full-blooded elves,” Aragorn continued. “Maybe that is, in part, what has also kept you two from getting sick.” The man couldn’t help smiling at the fact that his brothers were in the clear.

“Ai! Elbereth. “I cannot believe I did not think of it earlier,” Elrohir suddenly said.

Elladan had the feeling his brother had something else in mind besides what had just been speculated on. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“It is something I now remember studying in our history lessons. The howlers were once Drúedain, who lived among the Dúnedain in Númenór for a time. Do you not see? There may be an unknown connection there that protects you, Estel.”

Aragorn was stunned. “I must have skipped my own lesson the day that was taught.” He thought for a moment and then said, “The problem is the Drúedain were changed into creatures totally unlike humans. They had black blood and leathery skin. Surely whatever connection my ancestors may have had with the Drúedain would’ve been wiped out when they were transformed.”

“No,.” Elladan said. “Elrohir must have missed part of his history lesson. The time when the Drúedain that lived on Númenór with your ancestors, Estel, took place in the Second Age. The war against Morgoth happened int the First Age. So the howlers came into existence much earlier than any connection between Dúnedain and Drúedain would have taken place.”

“You are right,” Elrohir agreed, looking almost sheepish at the admission. “I do remember the facts now.” History hadn’t been his best subject.

Aragorn offered his own theory regarding the twins, “The two of you have human blood that may be giving you protection beyond having bites only. It may simply be mortal blood that counts, and Legolas has only elven blood.”

The man shook his head. “I cannot believe the answer was so simple, and it just sailed right on past me. How dumb is that.”

“Do not be so hard on yourself, Estel,” Elrohir admonished gently, touching the man‘s arm. “None of us thought of all the implications of what is going on. We finally put it all together, and that is the important thing.”

“One of them,” the ranger corrected, his tone becoming even more serious. “And that brings us to the critical question: How does this information help Legolas?”

“Yes. We have figured out why the three of us are not ill,” Elrohir remarked. “So now how do we use that knowledge to save him?” He cast his eyes over to the elven prince, lying still and quiet next to him. He reached down and placed his right palm over Legolas’s heart. He was dismayed to find that the young archer’s chest barely moved under his hand.

“I have no idea,” Aragorn said, making an effort not to sound defeated. It had upset him before that he couldn’t figure out why Legolas was dying. Now that they had the answer, what good was it doing them? They still weren’t able to help their friend.

A burst of fury overtook Aragorn, and the man reached for the nearest little tree branch stacked beside the fire. He yanked it from the pile and threw it into the dead fire pit. The blackened wood that criss-crossed in the pit collapsed in a shower of ashes. For an instant, Aragorn thought of Legolas’s life collapsing into ashes. Oh Valar, this was just too hard.

As if the spent fury had drained the ranger of all of his energy, he sank down to lie on the ground.

“Estel?” came Elladan’s alarmed voice. “Estel!”

Suddenly both of the twins were on their knees beside him. “What is wrong?” Elrohir asked. He didn’t know if his brother’s collapse was due to something ominous, namely a reaction similar to what had befallen Legolas. The idea was worrisome, if not downright alarming.

Elladan put his hand on Estel’s forehead for the second time that morning. It was not cool but neither was it overly warm. He grabbed the man’s injured hand and checked it for infection. There was none that he could see.

When Elladan looked up, he saw Elrohir’s worried face staring back at him. “He is not ill,” was the simple reply.

Aragorn heard the elder twin’s words, but he himself wasn’t so sure that remark was correct. He had suddenly felt dizzy, and he realized, achy all over. It wasn’t a major problem exactly, but it wasn’t something he liked feeling either. The implications were frightening.

When the man tried to sit up again, two pairs of hands held him down. “No, Estel,” Elladan told him in no uncertain terms, ‘You are staying right where you are.”

“I’m all right,” Aragorn declared to the two fair faces above him. “I just...”

“You just what?” came Elrohir’s slightly demanding voice. “You are not as well as you would like for us to believe.”

The ranger sighed. He knew better than to try his brothers’ patience. “You can poke and prod me if you want, but you won’t find anything amiss. I have no fever, and my hand looks just as it did, when it was checked earlier. It doesn’t hurt any more than any other scratches normally would.”

“Then why did you nearly pass out just now?” Elladan had an eyebrow raised. Aragorn though again of how much the look imitated Lord Elrond‘s. He almost laughed but stopped himself in time. Elladan was seriously worried, and it would not do to make light of him at the moment. They all sometimes used humor to deflect an overly serious moment, but this didn’t seem to be one of the times to do that.

Elrohir stared down at the human. “Tell us how you feel. And,” he added, holding up a warning finger, which was pointing right at the man‘s face, “you had better tell us the truth.”

The ranger knew that no amount of double talk was going to be successful in evading the younger twin’s question. “I felt dizzy for a minute, but it’s gone now, and that’s the truth.”

“And?” Elladan asked, knowing there was more.

“And I kind of ache all over.”

“Kind of?” Elrohir didn’t need to ask more than those two words to get his meaning across. He knew Estel understood perfectly well.

“It isn’t bad,” Aragorn protested. “Honestly. I mean it’s not like I was really hurting bad. It’s just an annoying ache more than anything.”

The eyebrow again from Elladan. “Kind of,” he said, mockingly repeating what Elrohir had said.

“Yes. Sort of...” There was a touch of teasing in his voice that he couldn‘t hold back.

“Estel, you are most exasperating. Elrohir and I are worried about you.”

“I know you are,” the man admitted contritely.

“So if you have no fever and no sign of infection, why did you get dizzy? And why do you ache?”

Aragorn was ready to throw his hands up in the air. He would have, if he hadn’t been lying flat on his back, one hand still held by Elladan and the other pinned to his side by Elrohir’s knees. More questions, concerned though they be, frustrated him, because he, a healer, couldn‘t answer them. Besides, he was not the one his brothers should be thinking about. Legolas was the one in need of their attention.

“Rest,” Elladan commanded. “Hopefully, you will feel better before too long.”

“If I rest, you must promise not to worry about me and take care of Legolas.” The ranger tried to push away the gnawing idea that keeping the wood elf comfortable was all they could do for him.

He didn’t intend on staying down long, but he knew Elladan and Elrohir well enough to be certain they weren’t going to take no for an answer. He would have to rest.

~*~*~

When Aragorn woke up, the fire was blazing, and the sun was halfway on its descent into the West. He blinked several times, each time trying to focus more clearly, so he could calculate how long he had been asleep. He soon realized his head hurt too much to do any kind of calculations. He also noticed that his body shook slightly.

Elladan noticed the ranger’s open eyes and moved over beside him. “You are awake,” he stated.

“I never could fool you, could I? I think it’s the fact that I sleep with my eyes closed, so having them open is a dead giveaway that I’m no longer asleep.”

Usually a tease like that would usually cause the eldest twin to smile, if not outright laugh. The serious look on Elladan’s face made the man’s heart skip a beat. 'Legolas! He’s died while I slept.’ The thought caused another missed beat, and a moan from deep within the man’s throat. “Please, tell me he isn’t...”

When Elladan had seen the color drain out of Estel’s face, he began to shake his head, effectively stopping the completion of the man’s plea. “Legolas still lives.” ‘Though barely,’ he added to himself.

Aragorn forced himself to sit up. He waved off Elladan’s reaching hands to try and stop him. No one was going to keep him from seeing his friend for himself.

Just then, Elrohir’s frantic voice caused both Aragorn and Elladan to look his way. They both scrambled over to where Elrohir sat trying to hold Legolas down. The archer was in the throes of convulsions, and they were bad. His body jerked violently, and moans escaped his lips. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

“How long has this been going on?” Aragorn asked, as he jumped over to Legolas’s left side and held his flailing left arm down. It was the movement to his wounded shoulder that was adding pain to what was happening, but the healer in him knew that wasn’t what was causing the convulsions.

“This is the first time it has happened,” Elrohir replied, trying to keep the blond elf, who had raised his head, from slamming it back down against the ground. He only partly succeeded, getting his fingers mashed in the process.

After several moments of the desperate attempts, mostly unsuccessful, to settle the wood elf down, he finally calmed, though there were small tremors running through the elf‘s body. The fiery pain in his shoulder resulted in the low moans that continued until finally he was once again still and silent.

The twins sank down to sit on the ground. Despite Legolas’s bad shoulder and his general weakened condition, he still possessed a great deal of the upper body strength developed through years and years of working with a longbow. It was easily enough to bring about what would soon develop into deep bruises on the three brothers. Elladan, for one, was rubbing his left arm and his left thigh, where Legolas had kicked him.

Aragorn had remained on his knees where he was beside Legolas. He was placing Legolas’s right arm across his stomach, when he noticed that the vambrace that protected the elf’s right wrist and lower forearm had tiny holes in it. He leaned over and examined the leather more closely. He did not like was he was seeing.

Without saying a word, the man unlaced the vambrace and set it aside, so that he could examine his friend’s wrist. Immediately, it became apparent that Legolas had been bitten here, too. Tiny holes formed a semi-circle in the elf’s flesh just below the base of his thumb. It looked no where near as bad as the shoulder wound, but even so, Legolas’s wrist was red and slightly swollen. The combination of things that had created the illness in the elf’s body was causing another infection, and it would only add to the poison already in his system.

When Aragorn had checked the elf over earlier while they were still on the mountain, he had obviously missed this wound, a fact that upset him. He took healing seriously and had always prided himself on being very thorough during any examination. He also took being a ranger seriously and likewise prided himself on his observational skills. He wasn’t used to missing things in either pursuit. Aragorn sighed deeply and shook his head.

“Estel, what is wrong?” Elladan asked. For some reason, he didn’t think it had anything to do with the convulsions Legolas had just suffered.

“I just found another bite wound.”

There was a note of concern in Elrohir’s voice. “You were bitten a second time?” The younger elf quickly moved over beside Aragorn, grabbing his arm. “Where?” he asked almost frantically. One bite had seemingly affected Estel with dizziness and body aches, so two bites just might become a major problem.

Aragorn shook his head. “Not on me. On Legolas’s wrist. I’m sure it happened during the fight with the howlers. It isn’t bad as bites go, but knowing what we know, it could hasten...”

Elrohir couldn’t hide a groan of consternation.

Shaking his head again, Aragorn pointed to his pack. “Hand it to me, Elrohir. I will clean and bandage the wound.”

“No you will not.” When Aragorn stared at him, Elrohir softened his voice. “I will do it. You do not look well, and before you object, Estel, I know you do not feel well, either. Lie down and rest.”

There had been a distinct command in the last sentence. The younger twin was trying hard to balance his relief that Estel had not sustained another bite wound and apprehension at the knowledge that Legolas had.

No amount of arguing was going to change the younger twin’s mind. One glance at Elladan told the man that he would find no sympathetic support there, either.

Elladan’s words soon confirmed that idea. “No argument, Estel. You have to rest, or you will end up in worse condition than you are in now.” Elladan’s admonition echoed his twin’s. “We will tie you down, if necessary.”

“And you know we will do it,” Elrohir warned, sure Estel knew the truth of that statement.

Aragorn nodded, and after looking over at Legolas, he reluctantly moved away but only far enough to allow his brothers easy access to Legolas, Then he lay down. He was determined that he was not going to go to sleep this time. That he was sure of.

Elladan saw the stubborn set of Estel’s jaw. It was plain to see that the ranger would do what he was told, but it was just as plain that he was determined not to give in to the demands of his brothers to rest. They had both seen Estel do it many times during his upbringing. With his ire up, they knew their human brother was just as likely to lie there and grit his teeth in defiance.

The twins looked at each other and shrugged. Their brother was at least lying down, so they hoped his body would soon take over and pull him into the arms of sleep.

Elrohir turned back to Legolas. Joined by Elladan, the two Rivendell elves examined the newest bite marks that stood out starkly on the younger elf’s right wrist.

Elladan frowned. It was true that the bite wound was small, but in Legolas’s already worsening condition, it could not be ignored, though what they could do about this one escaped them as much as it had regarding the large one on his shoulder.

Whispering so that even Aragorn, only a few feet away, could not hear, Elrohir said, “Is there any chance we can save Legolas?” He looked earnestly into his twin’s eyes.

“I do not think so,” Elladan replied sadly. “Not unless we discover something completely new that will destroy what is destroying him. Look around you, Elrohir. How much chance do you think we have of doing that?”

Elrohir knew the answer was none, but he chose not to voice that negative response. He looked down at the frowning face of his friend. Even in unconsciousness, Legolas felt the pain that wracked his slender body. “Is there anything we have not thought of?” Elrohir knew the question was a ridiculous one, born of desperation, but he still couldn‘t stop himself from asking.

“If there is, I have no idea what it could be,” Elladan replied. He was also staring solemnly at the blond elf.

A few moments of silence settled over the little clearing, as Elrohir cleaned the bite wound on Legolas’s wrist and then wrapped it in a clean bandage.

When he was through, he turned to Elladan and searched his brother’s face. In a voice just short of tears, Elrohir asked, “How will we help Estel when Legolas dies?”

With equal sadness, Elladan replied, “We will have to find a way to help each other.”

TBC

Chapter Twenty Three

Each time either of the elven twins looked over, at their human brother, Estel had his eyes wide open, staring straight up above him. He had not crossed his arms, as they thought he might do to show his displeasure, but he was obviously not going to risk falling asleep against his will again.

The elves just shook their heads. “He is lying down at least. What more can we expect from one so stubborn?” Elrohir observed.

Elladan nodded absently but made no comment. He was too deep in thought to respond, mulling over Elrohir’s question about whether there was anything that could save Legolas.

The elder elf was searching his mind for something his father might have taught him that had been long forgotten. So far, he could think of nothing, but as he continued working over the problem, a nagging sensation began to grow in his mind that Elrond had indeed mentioned something that could be applied here.

Elladan became more frustrated as time passed. He didn’t want to admit that there might be an answer somewhere in his memories that could be used to save Legolas, and it was refusing to come to him. If Legolas died, and he either remembered or found out later from his father what the solution had been, Elladan knew he would never forgive himself. If there was a solution, and it involved a treatment they had no way of performing, such as creating an antidote, that was beyond their control and as such was a different matter. For some reason, he couldn’t dismiss the thought that that wasn’t it.

The elf searched the recesses of his mind yet again for anything and everything Lord Elrond had ever mentioned regarding infections. Most of what Elladan knew involved mortals, since elves rarely got infections. Perhaps whatever would work on a mortal would work on an elf. No, that wasn’t logical. However, there was the fact that Legolas’s elven healing ability had been neutralized or at least blocked in some way. Would that not make the current circumstances similar to a mortal, particularly a human, with an infection?

The word antidote sprang to Elladan’s mind again. And again, he told himself that there was no way to make one while they were out here in the forest. They did not possess the supplies nor even the knowledge to create an antidote their father could have made from memory. Elladan sighed in continued frustration. Had they not all gone over and over this already?

Elrohir saw the myriad of emotions chasing each other across his twin’s face: anger, frustration, defeat, hope. “What are you thinking about that has you so unsettled?” When he realized what he was asking, he added, “Besides Legolas.”

“Ada taught you, me and Estel about infections, did he no?.”

“Yes, but they did not really involve elves,” Elrohir replied, confirming Elladan’s thought. “He wanted us to know for Estel’s sake and for the other mortals that come to Imladris in need of healing from infected wounds.”

“I know, but I have the infernally insistent notion that there is something in those lessons that can be applied here. I hate that it is eluding me so thoroughly.”

Not only did Elrohir’s attention sharpen, but Aragorn, who had of course, been listening, sat bolt upright and looked at his oldest brother. “What are you thinking? Is it something we can use to cure Legolas?” He scooted over to sit between his brothers, a look of pure hope on his face.

“I cannot put my finger on it, but...”

“Do not rush yourself,” Elrohir advised. “Just go over all that you remember, slowly and carefully. We can all three sort through the facts and hopefully discover what we need to know.” He knew that despite the urgency the young archer’s condition prompted, rushing through a jumble of thoughts would, in the end, take longer to sort out.

Elladan closed his eyes and pictured himself back in Lord Elrond’s library, as the two of them went through the various books and scrolls that he now believed contained the information the three brothers were currently seeking.

“I remember Ada reading from a book that described what happened to cause infections in morals. It listed all of the symptoms: redness at the wound site, swelling, fever...” Elladan paused and then his eyes snapped open. He almost stammered, when he said, “It described how a mortal’s blood produces the antitoxins to kill the poison. If the mortals do not die from the infections, they cure themselves.”

“Yes. I remember Ada explaining that to me,” Elrohir said, as the impact of his brother‘s words began to dawn on him.

“So do I,” Aragorn confirmed. “Because I am mortal, Ada went over and over it until I fully understood. He said that knowledge could save my life one day.”

Both elves turned their heads to look at Estel. It was Elrohir that finally spoke. “I think that is why you became a little ill yourself, dizzy and achy, as you called it.”

Elladan managed a small smile. “Your body has been producing those antitoxins to ward off an infection. How do you feel now?”

“I still ache a bit, but not as bad,” the man answered, realizing for the first time that what he said was true. The antitoxins were seemingly fighting off whatever infection was trying to invade his body.

Elladan continued. “Legolas, as an elf, has probably never had an infection in his life. His body does not know how to fight one off. I doubt he even possesses whatever is needed to produce the antitoxins. It would be useless to someone who was not designed to need that ability.”

Elrohir brought up an opposite view. “It may be that elves already possess those antitoxins, and that is why we do not get infections.” He thought back but couldn’t remember if Lord Elrond had told him that, or if it was just something that occurred to him now. “Whatever is blocking Legolas’s healing ability may be blocking those, as well.”

‘Either theory could be right.” Aragorn looked at Elladan. “Now my body has produced enough antitoxins to protect me.”

Nodding, the elder twin said, “That is why you feel better, Estel. That is the antidote, and it is doing its work.”

“Then we must get the antidote I’m producing into Legolas.”

“It may not work on an elf.” The last thing Elladan wanted to do was dampen the hope that had just sprung up between the three brothers, but they needed to be practical.

“We must try ,” Aragorn said more loudly than he intended. “We can’t just abandon the idea, because it might not work!”

“No, of course not,” Elladan was quick to say. “I only meant, we have to be prepared for failure.” He hated that word, but if what they were proposing did not work, Legolas would die. And that would definitely be a failure, and one that would devastate them.

Without discussing how they should proceed, Aragorn took out his knife. When he noticed his brothers staring at him, he just stared back. “If the antidote is in my blood, then there is only one way to get my blood out of my body.” He tilted his head, as if to say, Right?

The thought of what Aragorn was about to do sent shivers down Elrohir’s back, but there was no denying the man was right. There was only one way and the knife was it. But knowing that didn’t make the idea of his youngest brother piercing a vein in his wrist any easier.

“Wait.” Elladan called out.

Aragorn looked at the oldest twin. “We must hurry. Legolas needs the antidote as quickly as possible.”

“Yes,” agreed Elladan, “but we must think this through. Do you intend for him to just...drink your blood?”

Aragorn paused for just a heartbeat. “If that’s what must be done.” His tone reflected his feeling that there shouldn’t be any doubt that he would do whatever he must to save his friend.

“Suppose the digestive juices in his stomach destroy the antitoxin?”

No one had thought of that. “Legolas swallowed the howler blood, and it certainly wasn’t destroyed,” Elrohir pointed out with a touch of bitterness at what had resulted, because it hadn‘t been destroyed.

“We do not know what properties that black blood contained. Those creatures were created as immortals, and this is mortal blood we are talking about.” Elladan looked at Estel. His apologetic expression made it clear that he wasn’t inferring the man’s blood was inferior, just that it was obviously different from whatever the howlers had running through their veins.

Incredibly, it was a moan from Legolas that gave Aragorn the answer. He turned a smile on the twins. “Legolas’s shoulder wound.”

The elven brothers thought Estel was referring to the reason behind the moan, though they couldn’t fathom why the man was smiling. They both nodded. It hurt their hearts to hear the pained misery in the sound.

Aragorn could tell by his brothers’ reaction that they hadn’t understood what he meant by his statement. He didn’t point that out but instead said, “It needs to be drained and cleaned again. I can administer the blood that way.”

Since elves and humans had sometimes joined together and mixed their blood throughout the history of the two races, there was no thought that there could be any kind of incompatibility between Aragorn’s edain blood and Legolas’s pure elven blood.

Elladan grinned. Now he understood the smile. “You are indeed a clever healer, Estel. That is the perfect way to introduce the antitoxin into Legolas’s body. Let us set to work.”

Elrohir pulled a clean cup from his pack for the ranger to drain his blood into. He knew that what they were doing was the only way, but the idea of it still made him shiver.

Elladan sorted through his pack for the relatively small bandage for Estel‘s wrist and the larger one that would be needed for Legolas‘s shoulder.

Just as Aragorn held the knife over his wrist, when Elladan took the knife out of his hand. “I will do it, Estel. It must be done carefully, and you would be trying to do it one-handed.” he said firmly.

“How will you know how much blood Legolas will need?” Elrohir asked his twin.

Elladan had been considering that. How much should be used? All of Aragorn’s blood contained the antitoxin. Would only a small amount be enough for Legolas’s body to begin producing more? Would it even begin producing more? There was the disheartening thought that the human’s blood may be rejected by the elf’s body.

Finally, in complete honesty, Elladan said, “I do not know. We can only guess and hope that it is enough. What else can we do?”

Aragorn’s answer was to hold his right arm out toward Elladan. “Take however much you think you will need.” A little or a lot. It mattered to him not at all.

While the ranger held the cup under his wrist, Elladan located a single vein and then quickly made a prick through the skin until the vein was pierced, balancing the need to get deep enough to obtain enough blood to do some good and not cutting too deeply.

The precious blood began dripping into the cup strongly at first, but soon the bleeding had all but stopped. Aragorn looked at the approximately two and a half inches of blood in the bottom of the cup. “Is that enough?” the man asked, making it clear he wasn’t too sure it was.

“It will have to be,” Elladan said. He handed Estel a cloth to put over the cut to make sure it stopped bleeding completely. “Legolas’s wound will be able to absorb only so much, and it will take time. If I take more blood than this, I fear what is left will congeal before it can be administered.”

Aragorn nodded. That was good enough---for now. He would insist that Elladan get blood from his other wrist, if more was deemed necessary. He hastily wrapped a bandage around his wrist.

The three brothers moved over beside Legolas. The blond elf lay almost motionless, his body barely able to sustain his breathing enough for the effort to be observed.

Just as had happened two days before in the little rocky shelter, Elrohir lifted Legolas up into a sitting position and leaned the young elf’s right side against his chest. And just as before, Aragorn used his knife to make a circular cut along the swollen teeth marks. After he had drained the infection that had once again collected in the wound, he took a clean piece of cloth, dipped it in the blood and dabbed it into the cut. He then soaked up the last of the crimson liquid and lay the cloth over the wound. Reaching for the clean bandage, Aragorn bound the elf’s shoulder.

At last the man sat back on his heels. “We’ve done all we can. We must all pray this works.”

Laying Legolas back down, Elrohir did what Aragorn had done that morning. He put Legolas’s left hand on one of the large roots of the oak tree. It wouldn’t hurt to have the tree lend its strength to the wood elf, who would hopefully soon be mending.

Aragorn sat beside his friend and held his right hand. He would do his best to lend his own strength to Legolas just as he was sure the oak was doing.

~*~*~

The sun settled below the western horizon, plunging the gloom of the twilight forest into much deeper shades of darkness. None of the Rivendell brothers had eaten anything for their evening meal. One of them would have had to go hunting or fishing. None were hungry, but more importantly, none wanted to leave the clearing until Legolas’s fate was known.

As time passed, the elven prince didn’t seem to be getting any worse. At least, he hadn’t had any more convulsions nor had he made any sounds of distress. Of course, he hadn’t woken up, either.

Tension in the little clearing was palpable. No one spoke. There had been attempts earlier to make conversation, but it had turned awkward and then petered out completely. There was only one subject on everyone’s mind, and they were each reluctant to put it into words. Legolas would either live or die, and until one or the other became apparent, the three brothers would keep their thoughts to themselves.

Elladan stoked the fire and added more small branches. He soon found himself just staring into the flames, seemingly in a trance. It was the sound of moaning that brought him back to himself.

When he turned toward the source of the sound, he saw Elrohir and Aragorn kneeling beside the prone form of the Mirkwood prince. In an instant, he had joined them.

Legolas was shivering and a fine sheen of sweat covered his face and neck. Aragorn reached out and put his hand on the elf’s forehead. At the touch, Legolas jerked his head and gripped the tree root tightly. It was clear, or at least it appeared to be clear, that the touch had startled him.

Aragorn hated the momentary fear he had caused Legolas, but he still couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face. “His fever has broken. The blood treatment worked.”

Elladan didn’t want to make a prognosis before checking the bite marks. The fever alone did not necessarily mean success. Not wanting to unwrap the large bandage on Legolas’s shoulder, Elladan instead decided to examine the wound on the young archer’s wrist. It may be smaller, but it would still be a good indicator of what was happening with the young elf.

When he unwound the bandage on Legolas’s wrist and held his hand up to see better in the firelight, the elder twin saw that the bite marks had closed, and the redness and swelling had almost disappeared.

Words couldn’t truly describe the joy that flooded the clearing at the moment that all three beheld the healing wound. They were generous in their praise for the miracle that had been wrought.

~*~*~

The next morning, Legolas woke up with the sun. He forced his eyes to focus, and when they did, it was the happy, smiling faces of his friends, eating an early morning meal, that greeted him. Was he better? Why else the happy mood of his friends?

Legolas decided to take an inventory of his condition. He didn’t want to lie about how he felt, so he needed to make sure whatever he told the others was the truth.

His shoulder hurt, but the intense pain was gone. He was tempted to touch it but didn’t want to draw attention to the fact he was awake just yet. He also didn’t want to wake up that intense pain should it be just under the surface of his awareness. He could tell he was weak, but considering everything he had gone through, some of which he was sure he knew nothing about, weakness was certainly understandable. He didn’t feel hot any more, and his head no longer hurt. He decided, with great relief, that he was recovering.

All in all, he felt almost normal. So deciding, he grinned and said, “May I have some of that rabbit. I find that I am quite hungry.”

Three pairs of eyes turned as one to stare at him.

“Legolas,” Aragorn said, grinning widely.

“Well you finally decided to rejoin us,” Elladan remarked, his grin easily matching that of his youngest brother. He didn’t have to look at Elrohir to know his twin’s face reflected his own.

Aragorn laughed. “I think he had to come back before Elrohir ate his portion of rabbit.”

“I would not do that,” the younger twin protested. “We went through too much to save his silvan hide to let him starve now.”

~*~*~

By the next morning, Legolas was fit enough to travel. After they had all cleaned the campsite, he turned to each of his friends and embraced them warmly, telling each how much they meant to him and how grateful he was for what they had done for him.

His embrace with Aragorn lingered just a little longer. Legolas whispered in the man’s ear, “Thank you, Estel, for giving of yourself to save me.”

When they parted, Aragorn blinked back unshed tears. “I will do anything for you, mellon nin, just as you have done so many times for me.”

Elladan and Elrohir loaded the packs on the four horses and led them to the clearing. Just before they all mounted, Aragorn snapped his fingers. Pulling an object from his belt, he handed it to Legolas. It was one of the elf’s white-handled long knives.

Legolas’s eyes lit up when he saw it. Running his fingers lightly over the engraved blade, he asked, “Where did you find it?”

“In the cavern. I just stuck it in my belt and didn’t think of it until now. We didn’t recover your bow or quiver, I’m afraid, Or your cloak,” Aragorn added.

“They can be replaced. My father gave my knives to me. I am happy to have one of them back. It means a great deal. Thank you, Estel.”

“Do I get a thank you, too?” Elrohir asked, as he handed Legolas the twin to the knife the blond prince held.

“Where did you find that one?” Elladan asked, totally surprised. Elrohir had not told him he had it.

“The cavern. I did not have a chance to mention it at the time. And then I also forgot.”

“Thank you, too, Elrohir,” Legolas said teasingly, though the emotion in his voice almost choked him. He swallowed. “I do not know who would have been more upset if I had lost these, me or my father.”

“Now you won’t have to find out,” Aragorn said, as he slapped the elf on his good shoulder and turned toward the horses.

~*~*~

The four turned their backs to Black Mountain and were finally on their way to Rivendell. They were, for once it seemed, going to arrive there with each all in one piece. That was dependent, of course, on them staying out of trouble long enough to get from here to there.

~End~

A/N: Thanks to all of you, who read this little tale, especially those who took the time and effort to leave a review. My next story, coming soon, is called, Cold Wind. I hope to see all of you then.