Disclaimer: Tolkien’s characters are still his. I claim the rest.

Chapter One

Legolas stood still and silent in the small forest, but it was not the trees that occupied his attention. Though they offered their soothing song to him, his mind remained troubled.

Aragorn, his long-time friend, had met up with him barely an hour ago, and told him that word had reached him of a fever that had struck the rangers he was already planning to visit at a small, isolated outpost to the east of the coastal town of Planmoth.

Mountains that ran to the sea stood between the town and the outpost, so Aragorn had decided to go the quicker and straighter route by sea to check on his friends and give whatever aid they might require. Going around the mountains would have added almost a week to the journey and might well cost the lives of some of the rangers needing help.

Word of the fever and the decision to sail had happened after Aragorn had sent word to Legolas and asked the elf to join him on what the man had originally believed would be a leisurely trip to see old friends.

An argument had erupted immediately after the news was delivered. Legolas was determined to go with Aragorn, but the ranger had been vehement in his refusal to let the elf set foot anywhere near the sea.

Legolas sighed deeply and then turned around to face the man who he heard coming up behind him.

One look at Legolas’s face told Aragorn that the time he had given the elf to be by himself and think about the repercussions of his determination to accompany him hadn’t changed his mind one bit. "You cannot go, Legolas."

The Prince of Mirkwood stood defiantly and stared at the ranger. If ever there was a time to point out his royal rank, something Legolas never did, it was now. "I am a prince. I am not used to being told what I can and cannot do by anyone other than my father."

Aragorn stood his ground. "You can flout your position all you like, but it matters not. You are not going, and that’s the end of it."

"Hardly," Legolas shot back.

The two friends, a mere two feet apart, glared at one another. It was a close bet as to whom would laugh first, although the subject matter was anything but laughable.

Being one of the few humans in Middle-earth who could withstand the piercing gaze of an elf, Aragorn didn’t turn away or even blink. "It won’t work."

"I know," the elf admitted, though he didn’t alter his withering glare one bit.

"Are we now going to just stand and stare at each other while neither gives in?" the man asked, trying not to let his lips twitch.

"I can outlast you, human," was the expected answer to his question. When a mortal goes up against an immortal in the time game, the result is a foregone conclusion.

Finally, Aragorn sighed. "I’m serious, Legolas. You cannot go near that town. If you were to hear the gulls’ call, and I don’t see how you could avoid it, simply because you’re with me, I would never forgive myself."

Now it was Legolas’s turn to sigh. "Do you know me so little, Estel?" He paused to let the words sink in. "How long have we known each other?"

"Forty years, give or take."

"And in all that time, have you ever known me to make decisions I did not choose to make?"

"Well," the ranger began, "there was that one time..."

"Estel, be serious." And taking his own advice, Legolas continued in a tone that discouraged any further attempts at humor. "I do as I see fit. In this case, it is to go with you on that ship to the ranger outpost."

"You can go around and meet me there. We..."

"No," the elf interrupted. "I will not meet you. I will go with you. You cannot really stop me, you know." Legolas shrugged. "After all, it is not your ship. You are only a passenger."

"I think you’ll find that the captain of that ship will do as I ask. I am paying him very well." Those words were quickly deflated, when Aragorn saw the look on Legolas’s face. He wouldn’t put it past the elf to swim after the ship and board when it was too late to turn back.

Aragorn shook his head. "You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?"

"I am simply going to accompany my friend on a sea journey. Whether it turns out to be easy or hard depends on the friend."

After forty years of friendship with this stubborn and incredibly loyal elf, Aragorn was used to having the archer twist his logic around to put the outcome on whoever he was arguing with. It was amusing when it was done to others, especially those that deserved it, but it was frustrating when it was directed at him.

Legolas was not unmindful of the genuine concern he knew Aragorn had. The man feared that if the elf went near the sea, he would be stricken with the sea longing and soon succumb to the overwhelming need to sail to Valinor. It terrified him that he could lose this cherished friend forever. But Legolas had the undeniable feeling that sailing with Aragorn now, whatever the consequences to himself, was something he must do. He couldn’t explain it, even to himself. He just knew that something bad would happen if he didn’t go with Aragorn, and it had nothing to do with the rangers. If that included sailing, then so be it.

For his part, Aragorn knew he couldn’t really prevent Legolas from boarding that ship and facing whatever came as a result. With a heavy sigh, the ranger said, "We sail at dawn."

After looking deep into Aragorn’s eyes for verification of those words, Legolas nodded. "I will be ready."

"I have no doubt." Aragorn knew that Legolas suspected the ranger would try to trick him, if he could. However, the time for trickery and misleading words had passed, and they both knew that the elf’s decision to accompany the ranger on this sea voyage was set.

The two friends made camp near the edge of the forest, preferring to complete their journey to Planmoth early enough the next morning to arrive at the ship before dawn.

*~*~*~*

Just as a bright pink color began to spread across the eastern sky, Legolas and Aragorn entered the town and headed for the small harbor where two ships rocked gently at anchor.

The wharf was old. The wood was worn, bleached by sun, sea and wind, but it was obviously sturdy nonetheless. It was the larger of the two moored vessels, the Sea Spirit, that the elf and ranger walked toward.

An older man, short, stocky and almost as weathered as the dock, stood next to the plank that linked the mottled brown ship to the shore.

"You be Thorongil?" The seaman asked.

"I am," Aragorn replied easily, offering the man a nod.

The older man frowned slightly. "I thought you were traveling alone."

Aragorn forced a smile. "Captain Rummel, I presume?" When the other man offered his own nod, Aragorn continued. "My friend here has never been on board a ship before. He wanted to accompany me, if that is all right." Had he and Legolas not settled the matter already, the ranger would have wished for the captain to say no. For his friend's sake, he wasn't too sure he didn't.

The captain eyed the tall stranger, who wore his hood up over his head, hiding most of his face. What was visible was shadowed and hard to distinguish. Captain Rummel shrugged. "As long as he pays, I got no objection."

The matter was truly settled now.

While Aragorn dug into an inner pocket of his tunic and handed the man several coins, he noted that the captain’s appraisal of Legolas was one of open curiosity. It wasn’t surprising, since the presence of any hooded figure would naturally add a touch of mystery, especially one with a longbow and a quiver full of arrows on his back.

Used to spinning tales about Legolas’s various disguises to hide the fact he was an elf, Aragorn said smoothly, "His skin is sensitive to the sun." He doubted it would fully satisfy the captain’s curiosity, but he knew that this man wouldn’t be making the extra money he did, if he got too nosey regarding his passengers. In truth, he would take whoever could pay for their passage and ask no questions. Well, none other than to inquire, "He got a name?"

"Lasgalen," Aragorn replied, though he knew Captain Rummel would never know the true meaning of that name, because, despite the seaman’s wide travels, the ranger didn’t think he would know Sindarin.

"Well, Thorongil, you and Lasgalen can go aboard. We’ll set sail immediately. You got any other baggage?"

"No, Captain. We have nothing but these packs."

Rummel swept his hand upward, ushering his two passengers onto the plank to take their places on the ship.

As the crew began the tasks that would get them underway, Legolas and Aragorn walked to the railing near the starboard bow to stay out of the way of the sailors performing their duties.

Legolas looked at the ranger pointedly. "Thorongil?" he questioned.

"I dredged that name up, because I didn’t think anyone on this ship would know it."

The elf laughed. "I seriously doubt anyone on this ship would know any of the myriad of names you have been known by. And Lasgalen?"

"Why not? It seems perfectly appropriate to me, not that anyone would know the name Legolas, either." The grin on the ranger’s face showed just how proud he was of himself.

Legolas just rolled his eyes, though no one, not even Aragorn, could see the gesture.

As the ship made its way out through the little harbor and then out into the open sea, Legolas stood at the rail and stared upward. "There are no gulls," he said softly in a voice that was hard to interpret.

Aragorn looked at the elf. Was he happy or sorry that the gulls were not flying overhead? Surely Legolas was glad that the sea longing had not been awakened. ‘What am I thinking? Of course, he’s glad.’ Yet, Aragorn couldn’t help thinking that Legolas had to be wondering what it would be like to actually hear the gulls.

Aragorn was right to suspect that Legolas was curious about the sea longing and what it would feel like to hear the gulls. He knew it would change his life forever, and he didn’t really want that.

The elf shook his head and decided it was definitely lucky the seagulls were not in evidence today. He was curious, yes, but he knew that once the desire to sail West had stirred in his heart, he could not take it back. If only he could hear their cries and not be affected. No, that couldn’t happen, so it was best not to dwell on what could not be.

Even though it would take only six hours to make the journey to the departure point, Aragorn had gone ahead and paid for a cabin. Now that Legolas was with him and in need of keeping his identity as an elf a secret, the ranger was glad that he had.

"Let’s go below," the ranger suggested. "There have been a number of stares aimed your way, and I think it best we get out of sight until it’s time to disembark."

"We have a cabin?"

"Indeed we do."

Agreeing with the man’s logic, and now knowing they had a private room to themselves, Legolas grinned.

Aragorn turned and began making his way aft to where the captain stood on the on the quarter deck of the Sea Spirit. "Where is our cabin, Captain?"

"Down the stairs to the end of the hall. Last door on the right."

"Thank you."

Legolas and Aragorn could feel the eyes of the captain and most of the crew burning into their backs as they moved toward the door at the top of the narrow staircase. Even though the hall was empty, neither of them could completely relax until they had closed the door to their cabin.

The room was small, containing a tiny desk and chair, two beds much too short and narrow to be very comfortable, a shelf above each bed and one floor to ceiling cabinet, presumable for holding clothes.

Aragorn laughed. "I guess it’s lucky we aren’t making an overnight journey." He eyed the beds, which would never allow him or Legolas to lie flat and straighten their legs out. "These beds were made for hobbits."

"You are not planning on sleeping," Legolas stated, then added, "Are you?"

"Well, I did have a notion to stretch out and rest a bit. But I’ve changed my mind." The man sat down on the side of the bed in the far corner, though the word far hardly fit.

Unbeknownst to either elf or ranger, as they relaxed in their cabin, one of the crew was standing by the port railing and glaring at the door the two had disappeared behind moments ago. The look in his eyes was one of pure hatred.

"Thorongil." The man spat the word and made a face as if it had left a bitter taste in his mouth. "You will pay for what you did in Gondor."

The crewman soon noticed that the captain, who did not tolerate laziness, was watching him. He turned back to his task of untangling a spare halyard, wrapping it around his hand and elbow to form a layered circle and then slipping the circle over one of the unused belaying pins along the rail. All the while he fumed.

*~*~*~*

Midway through the six-hour journey, Aragorn said, "I’m thirsty."

Legolas had to laugh at the sudden announcement. "Your water skin is right there in your pack."

The ranger grinned. "I don’t see why we should use up our water, when we should be able to get some from the captain‘s supply. We’re paying him enough."

The ranger stood up and walked toward the door to the little cabin. He put his hand on the handle and then turned around to face Legolas. "Don’t leave here. There’s no need to risk discovery if it isn’t warranted."

The elf ignored the fact that he was again being told what to do. This time, however, he took no umbrage. He simply nodded his intention to follow the ‘command’.

Still grinning, Aragorn left the elf to himself and headed up to the deck.

He never made it.

At the foot of the steps leading to the deck above, a belaying pin came down on the back of Aragorn’s head, sending him crashing to the wooden floor.

Groggy but not completely unconscious, he was aware that strong hands had gripped him, lifting his upper body, and were now dragging him along the floor. He felt himself being turned around a corner and then dropped unceremoniously. This was followed by the sound of a door being kicked shut. "Legolas?" he asked, thinking it was the elf who must have pulled him back into their cabin.

"Don’t know who you’re askin’ about, but I ain’t him." The voice that spoke those words was gruff and none too kind.

Aragorn reached up and rubbed the back of his head where a knot had formed. He was glad that he didn’t feel any blood on his fingers. He sat up slowly and blinked several times in an effort to clear his bleary vision. Gradually, it did clear, and he was able to focus on the source of the voice. "Are you the one who hit me?" Anger had crept into his voice, though he tried to hold it back until he knew exactly who it was who he should be angry at.

"You bet I am," came the reply from the man who stood over him, arms crossed over his chest. "That blow to the head is the least of what I plan to do to you."

TBC

Chapter Two

Aragorn sized the man up. Even considering his himself was still sitting on the floor, the ranger knew the other man was taller than he was. He was large, though muscular, not heavy-set. A cloth cap covered his dirty, gray-streaked brown hair. A mouth full of yellowed teeth split his dark mustache from his scruffy beard.

“I been waitin’ a long time to set eyes on you again - Thorongil.” There was a definite tinge of hatred when he said the name.

The man stepped back, as Aragorn managed to get to his feet. His head swam from the blow it had taken, so he was forced to lean against a small table for support. Gradually, the room settled down, and Aragorn turned his full attention on the large man in front of him. It was then he saw the knife the man had drawn. “You know me?” the ranger asked.

“Oh yes. I know you. I was a soldier in the Gondorian army back when you was captain. My name is Chandur.”

Aragorn stared hard at the man, but could not place the name or the face. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

“Typical. Your kind never do remember the ones you send out to die in battle.”

Again anger flashed in the ranger’s eyes. “I led my men in battle.”

“Yeah, when you could be bothered.” Sarcasm dripped from the man’s mouth. He raised the knife a few inches higher, making sure the tip was pointed directly at Aragorn’s heart.

“Soldiers need leadership or there would be nothing but chaos. Why do you hate me so for doing my duty?”

“You sent my brother on a suicide mission. You knew there was no chance he’d return, yet you sent him anyway. He was killed!”

“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” the ranger said sincerely, “We fought desperate enemies in Gondor. Soldiers died. Unfortunately, it’s the nature of war and the price we must pay for freedom.”

“He didn’t have to go. He was only twenty years old! You knew he wouldn’t come back. You killed him as surely as if you’d run him through with your own sword.” This time, when Chandur raised the knife even higher, he lunged.

Aragorn, knowing that might happen, attempted to move out of the way. His head was clear, but his body was still sluggish from the effects of the blow from the belaying pin. He inwardly screamed at his body to move, but it seemed to respond in slow motion.

The knife headed for his heart was moving twice as fast as he was. The result was not going to be a good one, but he knew with certainty that there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. Aragorn closed his eyes, waiting for the impact that would take his life.

Suddenly behind him, he heard a loud, splintering crash. Something flew by his right ear and flashed as it passed along the peripheral vision of his right eye.

It wasn’t until Chandur’s forward progress was arrested, and the man stood stock still that Aragorn saw the long white handle with a few inches of steel blade protruding from his chest. The look of surprise gave way, as Chandur’ss face was slowly twisted into one of shocked disbelief. It was horrible to watch.

As Chandur hit the floor, Aragorn hit the table, his body still moving in its attempt to escape the other man’s lunge.

For the second time in a matter of moments, Aragorn felt strong hands grab him. This time, however, he knew for certain that these hands did belong to Legolas.

“Estel, are you all right?” asked the worried elf. leaning down so he could look into the man’s eyes.

“I am now,” the ranger replied. He took a couple of steps backward so he could sit in the chair next to the table. His legs felt weak, and he was loath to risk falling, even though Legolas still had a strong hold on him.

Legolas turned his head to stare down at the dead man at their feet. “Who was he, and why was he trying to kill you?”

“I’ll explain when we report this to Captain Rummel.” Aragorn looked up at his friend, a silent plea not to have to explain everything twice.

Legolas nodded.

Just then the voices of several men were heard out in the hallway. Aragorn knew it was time to face the music. He just hoped the captain was a fair man who would listen to his story of attack, long-held revenge and the action taken to save his life, and not condemn him or Legolas out of hand. It could do either way. After all, Chandur was one of his crew.

When Aragorn nodded that he was ready, Legolas went to the door and motioned for one of the men they had heard and asked that the captain be sent for.

*~*~*~*

Half an hour later, Aragorn finished telling his story. He looked at the dead man and then at Captain Rummel. “He tried to kill me to avenge his brother, and Lasgalen stopped him,” the ranger summed up. “I hope you see that this tragic business started with him and not either of us.”

Captain Rummel’s expression was grim, though his words were not. “Fear not, Thorongil. This man has sailed with me for three years, and in all that time, I’ve never seen him laugh or even smile. He had no friends among the crew. It was plain to us all that he had a bitter heart. I find no fault with either of you.”

“What will you do now?” Aragorn asked.

“We’ll keep his body below until tomorrow when we reach the next port. The magistrate there can deal with the situation.

"As for you two, you can depart at your original destination. I’m satisfied with the truth of what you’ve told me.”

Just before Legolas turned away, the captain reached down and pulled the long knife out of Chandur’s chest. He wiped it on the dead man’s shirt and then looked closely at the blade.

Legolas and Aragorn exchanged glances behind his back. If he recognized the knife as being elven, they might have some more explaining to do. And Legolas would surely have to reveal himself.

“Beautiful knife,” the captain said admiringly. “I’ve never seen it’s like before.”

Aragorn quickly covered. “It was handed down through my family. I gave it to Lasgalen as a gift.”

“A mighty lucky gift, if you ask me,” was the captain’s only remark, as he handed the knife to Legolas. He didn’t ask why the ‘man’ still had his hood up, when they were below deck and out of the sun. It would have been one of those nosey questions he never asked, but inwardly, he would love to know the answer. He had a feeling there was more to this person than sensitive skin.

Once the two friends had returned to their cabin, a relieved Aragorn sat down on his bed while Legolas stood near the door, listening to make sure no one was in the hall before pushing his hood back.

The elf looked at the ranger. “We are fortunate, mellon nin, that the captain believed us. We could just as easily be in chains right now.”

Aragorn let out a long, slow breath. “How well I know it,” he replied.

“I am glad that you are safe but sorry that man brought back unpleasant memories for you.”

“There were good times in Gondor in those days, as well as bad ones. Chandur’s brother was part of the latter. I still don’t remember either of them, but there were so many young men that came and went and met their death during those years. So many.”

A distant look had entered Aragorn’s eyes, and Legolas kept his silence. He would leave it up to his friend to decide when to move on.

A few moments later, Aragorn shook himself free of the memories of another time and place. It was time to concentrate on the future.

*~*~*~*

The spot where the passengers wanted to be let off the ship was merely a small strip of beach to the east of where the mountains sat beside the sea, poking their stony fingers into the surf that continually rolled against them.

The ship anchored as close in as the depth of the water would allow, and a small boat was lowered to ferry Legolas and Aragorn to shore.

The two friends jumped from the little boat and landed calf deep in the gently breaking waves. By the time they had stepped onto the sand, the row boat was headed back to the ship.

Aragorn gave a final wave to those on the Sea Spirit, like particularly the captain, who he knew were watching their departure and probably wondering why these two mysterious passenger would leave a ship to land on a small deserted beach. They couldn’t know that there was a path leading back into the hills this side of the mountains that led to a ranger outpost, whose very existence was a secret to all but a few.

Legolas and Aragorn turned away from the sea to continue their journey on foot. It was then that the gulls appeared.

At the very first note of the graceful seabirds’ haunting cries, Legolas’s head had shot up, and his keen elven eyes followed the path the feathered creatures flew above him. There were six of them, and each one seemed to be calling to the elf.

The elegant gray and white birds wheeled in circles above the sand. They rose, soared and dived, all the while their cries filled the air.

The rest of the world melted away, as the seagulls’ song flowed through Legolas’s heart and soul, sundering both from all that he had known and loved his entire life. In a matter of seconds, the wood-elf, whose face reflected awe and wonder, was lost to the forests of Arda and clamed by the sea.

Aragorn, standing a few feet away, could no more understand the sea longing on an emotional level than he could commune with a tree, but he knew what it meant. He knew his beloved friend would either give in to this new desire and sail West or, if he chose to stay, suffer here in Middle-earth because of it. Aragorn couldn’t decide which would hurt worse.
In utter misery, the man closed his eyes, sank to his knees and wept.

The gulls flew in ever widening circles, all the while moving down the beach until they began swooping and soaring in tight circles once again. Without even being aware of it, Legolas had followed them.

The archer stopped and watched, as totally mesmerized by the seagulls as he had been the instant he had first heard their calls.

“Beautiful, are they not?”

The voice was unfamiliar, yet the strength of it easily penetrated Legolas’s total absorption in the feathered creatures he was watching so intently.

The wood-elf looked toward the sound of the voice. Standing in front of the nearby rocks, was a man in a white robe, pointed hat and long, white beard. At first, Legolas thought it might be Mithrandir. But he quickly realized it was not the wizard.

“Who are you?” The elf was usually not so forward in asking the identity of others, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

“I am often called by many names, but to you I am the King of the Sea.”

Legolas stared before finally finding his voice. “Ulmo? You are Ulmo?”

Ulmo dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Legolas did not doubt this being’s identity. The elf immediately went down on one knee and bowed his head. His right hand was closed and resting against his left shoulder. The pose was an offer of respect. He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Rise, my child.”

“Have you come to take me to Valinor?” The very thought that one of the most powerful Lords of the Valar would come to this deserted place to do that for a simple elven prince made him blush with embarrassment, as soon as the words left his mouth. How could he have said such a thing? “Forgive me,” he whispered to the ethereal being before him.

Ulmo smiled. “I have come to give you a gift, but that is not it.” The Vala’s eyes were amused but gentle, as he looked at the young immortal.

“A gift?” Legolas repeated, forgetting all about the seagulls and concentrating on the fact that he was standing on an isolated beach talking to the Lord of Waters himself.

He must have fallen asleep and was having a most unusual dream. However, it was a dream he was willing to let play out, because he wanted to know what the gift was, even if it wasn’t real.

“You risked awakening the sea longing in you to come on this journey, because you believed that there was something bad you could prevent from happening. Am I right?”

“Yes.” ‘Of course, you are,’ Legolas almost added.

“And if you had not been on that ship, your friend would have been killed.”

Legolas nodded, a flicker of sadness crossing his face at the prospect of losing Estel, because he would not have been there to prevent it. He was glad his stubbornness had outlasted the ranger’s.

“There are events that will come to pass in Middle-earth that cannot be spoken of now. However, I can tell you that you will have a hand to play in their outcome. Your friend’s time in Arda is far from over, and you will play a part in his accomplishments, as well. The events that will take place, his life and yours are all intertwined and are necessary for the survival of Middle-earth as it should be for all free peoples.”

Legolas listened intently to Ulmo, as he spoke. The elf couldn’t really comprehend all that he was hearing, but what he did comprehend was that he himself must remain here to play some part in important events yet to come. “Then I am to fight the sea longing and remain here in Middle-earth.”

“You must remain, yes, but you do not have to fight the call of the sea.” ‘Someday, young prince,’ he thought, ‘but not yet.’

“I do not understand,” Legolas declared. “ It has been awakened in me, and I know that it cannot be changed.”

Ulmo smiled indulgently. “Ah, but you forget that I am the King of the Sea. I can change anything to do with water.” He let Legolas think about that for a moment before he resumed. “That is the gift I give to you.”

So many thoughts were crashing into each other in the elf’s mind, that he couldn’t sort them out. He just continued to stare at the Vala, who continued to smile back at him.

Ulmo reached out and placed his hand on the side of Legolas’s face. A warm, powerful feeling of peace, such as Legolas had never known before, overtook the young elf, and he could not avoid giving in to it. He lay down on the sand.

The Vala closed Legolas's eyes before taking an object out of an inner pocket in his robe and placing it in the elf's hand, closing his long, slender fingers over it. “Sleep now, my child. You will remember nothing of this when you awaken, but you will be free - for now.”

Then Ulmo turned and walked into the sea.

*~*~*~*

Aragorn had wept all the tears he had for Legolas and for himself. He raised his head, not having any idea how long he had been on his knees. He stood up slowly, wiped his face and looked around, fully expecting to see Legolas still standing and staring at the seagulls. There was no sign of the elf.

The man turned in a complete circle but saw no one else on the beach. “Legolas! Legolas!”

“I am here,” came a voice down the beach.

When Aragorn looked again, he saw Legolas walking toward him and waving. Where had that elf materialized from?

When Legolas reached him, Aragorn said, “Where did you go off to and why?”

“I went...” Legolas paused when he suddenly realized he had no idea how to answer. “I must have gone to get this.” He opened his hand and held it out for Aragorn to see. Lying in the elf's palm was a beautiful beige seashell with a dark brown lacey pattern covering its smooth, shiny surface.

“You went off to find a seashell?” The man sounded dubious.

“What were you doing?” Legolas asked, as he slipped the shell into a pocket of his tunic.

“I...” the man realized that he had no idea what he had been doing. He looked around and shook his head. “Is this place enchanted?”

“I do not know,” the elf replied.

“Well, we can’t stay here on this beach. We need to get started if we intend on reaching the ranger outpost before nightfall.”

As they moved inland to find the path that would take them to their destination, Aragorn was still shaking his head. "This was not exactly the uneventful journey I was hoping for."

"Since when have any of our journeys together been uneventful?" Legolas wanted to know.

"Well, there was that one time..."

The End