(A/N: Many thanks and kudos to my beta, Nieriel Raina, who managed to pick through this detestable chapter while suffering the pangs of moving-boxes and car trouble. Honestly, I don’t know why she puts up with me, but thank Elbereth she does! -- Le Rouret)

Legolas lay in bed for hours in the dark. He told himself over and over that he was not afraid to sleep, and yet he could not bring himself to surrender to his weariness. Ever in the corner of his mind he heard the sinister voice whispering, and smelt the burning decay; ever in his heart he felt the shiver of dread. He lay and stared out his window at the wheeling stars above; but they brought him no wisdom, and his limbs ached for rest.

“I might go for a week at a time without slumber,” he thought; “yet I am three nights down and so weary I could sleep for ten days!” He rolled over and pulled the coverlet round his shoulders. His eyelids drooped and he began to feel the familiar pull of lassitude; yet then a heron squawked outside his chamber window and he jerked awake, heart hammering. He stared up at the shadowy ceiling, flickering with silvery ghost-lights from the moon shimmering on the river, and willed his heart to slow. “This will never do,” he chided himself. “Why should I fear these visions? Like wights they cannot hurt me; and besides, they might bring me more speerings from this dream-world. Though I do fear me they shall not pop up in my sleep with a laugh and a cry of, ‘Only fooling!’”

He smiled a little at this thought, and with a sigh closed his eyes. He counted his heartbeats, pleased to feel them slow within his chest; he smelt the river, the faint scent of pine, cold dead smoke, the fresh herby smell of the clean bedclothes. This time when sleep’s soft blanket slid over him, he succumbed, his mind quietly seeking, keen to the serpent’s voice.

He cast to and fro, straining to hear or to see; all round him was thick fog, sluggishly swirling round his legs and clinging wetly to his skin and hair. He was grasping something tightly in his fist that slipped in the moisture; he looked down at it; it was a pair of shears. “These are Men’s shears,” he thought, and cast them down into a little mound of dark brown wool. He closed his hand again, and the ring cut into his palm. The mist glowed, as though lit by a great white lantern, and he smelled pipe smoke. “Mithrandir!” he thought, but when he turned, there was naught before him save a large nightingale, regarding him with a severe eye. “Will you get out of my way!” said the bird peevishly, and took flight past him; the stiff remiges brushed his face and stung. When he touched his cheek and drew his hand away, he saw he was bleeding, but his blood was black.

“I should not be here,” he thought. “I ought to be looking for her.” And he set off through the misty wood, peering round the dark wet boles of trees, casting about the air, smelling moist loam and cold wood smoke. He could feel it before him, threatening, dreadful; his skin went cold and he began to shake. It loomed in front of him, huge, dark, brooding; its walls wept mold and slime, and its broken allures were slick with blood that would never dry. He trembled before it, its evil seeping up through the very soles of his shoes; and before him upon a cruel-looking pike was thrust the rotten head of an Orc.

“Ushtâk!” he said in surprise. “O, but I remember you, my friend.”

The Orc captain’s head stirred; the globule eyes blinked and the mouth twisted horribly into a grin; the lips were so decayed they split open and the teeth dropped out, one by one. “Little yellow hornet!” he grated, and laughed awfully. “No one to help you now!”

“I slew you myself,” said Legolas disbelievingly. “’Twas my hands thrust your head upon that pike. How can you imperil me thus?”

“I do not need arms or legs,” grinned Ushtâk. “Look where you are standing, hornet!”

Legolas looked down. The pavers beneath his feet were slick with blood and the rotting remains of bodies, Orcs and Elves alike. He recognized these stones. “Dol Guldur!” he said with fear, and then everything went dark, and all he could hear was Ushtâk’s voice, laughing and hissing at him.

“Crawl, hornet, crawl!” cried Ushtâk in the darkness, and impelled by some horrible cold weight, Legolas fell to his hands and knees. He felt someone’s face beneath his fingers, cold and infirm, and drew back, appalled. All round him were the crackling, snapping footsteps of the spiders, huge black spiders surrounding him, their mandibles clacking, their legs creaking and rustling. “Legolas!” called his father; his voice sounded very far away. “Legolas, Legolas! My son! Where are you?”

Legolas could not speak; if he did the spiders would find him. He felt something brush his leg, and the scent of poison was thick around him. “Legolas! Legolas!” called his father; then he gave a terrible cry. The spiders had got him. “Father, father!” cried Legolas; he tried to rise but something held him down, stinking and hot, crushing him to the ground. “Baranil! Galás! Anyone!” He struggled, feeling the strong sticky cords around his limbs. “Meivel! Gimli!” No – who had been nearest him; who had fought at his side moments ago? The name, he needed the name; if he called the scout’s name, he would come, and Legolas could send him to help his father. Sleek dark hair, dark eyes, strong arms and hitched breath, an arrow stuck from his chest, soaked in blood. “Kaimelas!” he shouted, and with a wrench shot up out of bed.

The room spun round him; he was very cold, and could not catch his breath. The bed sheets had wound round his arms and legs and he thrashed, desperately trying to free himself. There was a thump at his chamber door, and then it opened with a crash; Kaimelas stood there, tousle-haired, bleary-eyed, his night shirt askew; he staggered into the room and to his lord’s bedside. “My lord!” he said thickly, reaching down to help Legolas untangle himself. “Why did you call me? What is it?”

“The dreams again,” said Legolas a little wildly; he wrenched his limbs from the sheets and staggered out of bed, holding on to the post; his legs felt like aspic. “The spiders this time, and the Orc captain, Ushtâk – “

“Ushtâk?” said Kaimelas, blinking and rubbing his eyes. “That was – O my lord, that was centuries ago, down at Rhosgobel – “

“I saw it,” panted Legolas; he lowered himself back on the bed, shivering. “Dol Guldur – I saw the walls, and the pavers slick with blood – “

“It was a dream,” said Kaimelas, gentle and a little indistinct in his haze of sleep; Legolas was reminded of a father soothing a small child from his nightmares and was unaccountably irritated. He watched Kaimelas turn up the lamp and smooth the coverlet. “It was only a dream,” Kaimelas repeated, placating. “You are not at Dol Guldur; you are in Osgiliath and are safe – “

“My Lord Father is not safe,” said Legolas. He took Kaimelas by the arm, reassured by the hard muscle beneath the linen. Kaimelas had been one of Thranduil’s scouts for centuries ere Legolas himself had even been thought of; he was a king’s man, and fiercely loyal. “He is in danger. Something is gone wrong in Eryn Lasgalen.”

Kaimelas gave him a strange look. “The last reports spoke of naught of interest save the new Master of Esgaroth,” he said. He took his lord’s hand from round his arm and held it tight. “It was a dream,” he repeated, his voice mollifying. “Naught but a dream. In the confusion of your slumber you have accorded it overmuch significance – “

“It was not just a dream,” insisted Legolas, pulling his hand from Kaimelas’, and wishing his valet possessed not the ability to make him feel a youngling again. “I have dreamt thus three nights, and the terror of them disturbs my slumber. Voices call to me; first snakes, now spiders, and I see my Lord Father’s ring – “

Kaimelas shook his head. “The Lord of Osgiliath may dream true, but you have never done so to my knowledge,” he said practically, straightening his lord’s night shirt. “Something preys upon your mind – “ His mouth quirked. “Distress over the Queen’s gifts of doublets and robes, perchance – “

“No,” said Legolas stubbornly; it was impossible to argue with Kaimelas, and he was frustrated and angry. “These are no mere dreams. Something is amiss, and I am going to Eryn Lasgalen to see what it is.”

Kaimelas went very still then, and his dark eyes were calculating as he studied his lord. “So that is why you came to Osgiliath,” he said slowly. “To confer with Lord Faramir about dreams and visions. Lady Éowyn and I did wonder betwixt us two your motives, my lord, to drag the armor and all these supplies – “

Legolas got up and pulled off his night shirt, casting it to the floor and kicking it. He knew he was acting like a spoiled child, but Kaimelas had always been able to bring out the worst in him as well as the best, and the horrible scent of poison lingered in his nostrils, imparting upon him a sense of urgency. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to take to horse and proceed with all haste to his Lord Father’s side, come what may; he recognized this impulse as irrational but was not in a mood to argue with himself as well as with Kaimelas. “I will have to wake the cooks,” he said. “I need waybread, dried fruit and meat, beans – “

“If there were trouble in Eryn Lasgalen surely we would have heard,” persisted Kaimelas, picking up the discarded night shirt; he was very puzzled. “Baranil would have written to Meivel at any rate – “

“Why should Baranil have told Meivel? You know they do not get on.” Legolas pulled his old leather breeches on and laced them up. “I have had letters from my Lord Father, and Gimli from his, speaking of trouble in Esgaroth – “

“And that is why you dream,” said Kaimelas, his face clearing. “It preys on your mind, and in the darkness of the night your fears surface – “

“Kaimelas,” said Legolas angrily, turning to his valet, his grey eyes flashing. “These are no mere dreams. I am going to Eryn Lasgalen, in spite of your arguments; my mind is made up. I know Galás set you to spy on me, and I blame him not for I have been distracted of late; well I know too that Galás, as you, will not believe me, and will moreover seek to restrain me. But I shall not be restrained, Kaimelas; I am going, and Gimli and Bandobras shall come with me.” He pulled on a rough wool shirt and began to button it. “I am not certain what to do with Tamin – perhaps I will instruct him to delay you here – “

“My lord,” said Kaimelas growing angry. “I have spied on you for Galás it is true; this madness of yours convinces me he is right in this, and you require force, not reason – “

There was a subdued tap on the door, and both Elves turned in surprise; then the latch turned and the door creaked open. Faramir stood there, as tousle-haired and bleary-eyed as had been Kaimelas, but his face was not bemused or sleepy, but very dark and grim. “Legolas,” he said without preamble. “Who was Ushtâk? And why did he call you a hornet?”

Kaimelas was so astonished that he stood with his mouth open, staring at the Prince of Emyn Arnen; there grew then upon his face an expression of apprehension and fear. Legolas threw him an angry look and went to Faramir, drawing him within, and shutting and latching the door.

“Ushtâk was an Orc captain, leading an army of one thousand upon my Lord Father’s flanks near Dol Guldur, many centuries ago,” said Legolas, leading Faramir to the chair by the side of the bed and sitting him upon it. “Mine archers devastated his soldiers, and I would stand upon the high rocks at Rhosgobel and fire volley after volley into them. Kaimelas was with me then, as were Meivel and Galás – Himbaláth was too young then, was he not, Kaimelas? A mere child still, toddling at his mother’s feet.” He leant up against the bed post, his arms folded across his chest, and fixed Kaimelas with an adamant glare; Kaimelas looked staggered and unable to speak. Faramir watched them silently, recognizing the presence of an argument in progress, and that he had tipped the scales in Legolas’ favor. After a moment Kaimelas dropped his gaze to the floor, and Legolas switched his hair over his shoulder and continued: “Ushtâk called me the Little Yellow Hornet, for we stung them without rest, and slew hundreds of Orcs with our arrows. At last we came the two of us, Ushtâk and I, to a dark, damp dingle and fought each other for hours. He was a big, hump-backed, barrel-chested goblin with long powerful arms, and a snout like a pig, and great fangs; his sword was as high as I was, and made of terrible red steel. But many of my men had fallen, and I was filled with great fury, and pressed him so hard the sword fell from his claws. But Ushtâk had a net, and slung it round my legs, casting me to the ground, and my sword flew from my hands. He laughed then, and dragged me close to his vile feet, and told me to crawl to him, and lick his boots. But I saw he had secreted within one of his boots a stiletto; I took it, and hamstrung him; and when he howled in pain, I retrieved my sword. I slew him and thrust his head upon a pike, and his minions scattered, to be picked off one by one by the spiders thereabouts.”

The three were silent a moment; Faramir pondered Legolas’ words, and Kaimelas and Legolas saw yet the blood and carnage, the wheel of the crows, and their eyes were dimmed. At last Faramir stirred, and looked up at his friend; his eyes were haunted.

“Crawl, hornet, crawl,” said Faramir, and Legolas shuddered.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly. He paused, then added, his voice stronger: “And as an aside, my friend, I too dreamt of shears.”

Faramir gave a half-hearted smile. “Not very propitious,” he said.

“No,” agreed Legolas. He turned to Kaimelas, who was wide-eyed, holding his lord’s night shirt, and looking from Man to Elf in dawning comprehension, though his realization was cold comfort. “See, Kaimelas?” Legolas said tiredly. “As my Bandobras would say, there is a first time for everything; and apparently my visions are veritable – how I wish it were otherwise!” he added with a sigh, and rubbed his eyes; they were burning. “So you see, I must go to Eryn Lasgalen, and see what it is that calls to me, telling me my Lord Father is threatened.”

“I see that now, my lord,” said Kaimelas slowly. He looked down at the night shirt as though seeing it for the first time; he cast it into the open trunk carelessly. “You ought to have told me – you ought to have informed me of these visions; you would have caught me less off guard tonight.” He looked at his lord and said angrily, “And you are going to leave me behind, are you not? You have planned it, have you not, my lord? You will trick me somehow, and leave me to languish here, to return to Galás in disgrace to say I have let you slip through my fingers!”

“Kaimelas – “ began Legolas, but his valet waved him aside.

“Was that not your plan from the beginning?” he demanded. “You would slip out in the night, or concoct another fishing trip – “ he shot Faramir an evil look; the Prince of Emyn Arnen managed to look guilty “ – you would leave me behind, saddled with Tamin and his hundreds of questions; you would constrain me to return to Dol Galenehtar and admit my ignominy before Galás and Meivel and Himbaláth – “

“How could I bring you, Kaimelas?” pled Legolas; it was his turn to placate. “You did not believe me – I knew you would not believe me! Nor would Galás; how could I explain this to him? But I must go – you see now, that I must go? And I cannot bring you – “

“I am a mere valet now, but I do not think I have forgotten all my training, my lord,” said Kaimelas hotly. “Why I tutored you myself, when you were but an Elfling, in the art of war and combat! Was it not I who taught you to fight with the blade, so that you could take vile Ushtâk down?”

“I know, Kaimelas,” said Legolas gently. “You did; you taught me well, and I am grateful for it. But look!” He went to his valet then, and untying the collar of Kaimelas’ night shirt drew it aside. There upon the Elf’s chest the scar lay, twisted and shining and red, a great ugly knot lying inches from where his heart beat. Kaimelas tried to cover it, but Legolas moved his hand aside and held it tightly in his own. “Look at it, Kaimelas,” said Legolas. “We know it is there; you cannot hide it from me. Did I not pluck the arrow from your breast with mine own hands? Did I not weep to leave you, thinking my friend would be dead ere I returned to you? Did I not sit with you in the apothecary, holding you when you coughed up blood? Have I not spent many days listening to you breathe beside me, in agony of wonder you yet draw in breath? And do I not hear you breathe now, how the air snags in your chest? You are angry now, and panting hard – I can hear you, dragging in air, your lung clicking, straining.”

“It – it does not bother me much, my lord,” said Kaimelas, subdued; he drew away from Legolas and turned to close his night shirt, as though ashamed of the wound. “I am hale and strong yet. I can go with you.”

“Were this journey a mere pleasantry I should not be so troubled,” said Legolas. “O do not be vexed with me, dear Kaimelas! It is rare we are at odds, and this hurts me. You know now that I go into danger; think instead upon your poor wife, who will be left behind, knowing your health and strength are compromised!”

“Seimiel would want me to go,” said Kaimelas, closing his eyes in shame.

“Kassah,” said Legolas, laying his hand on Kaimelas’ sleek dark head; the Elf looked up at his lord in surprise, for it had been long since he had heard Legolas call him thus, the childish lisping from his sovereign’s offspring. Legolas’ eyes were tender and compassionate, and in the dim chamber his skin like the pale moonlight glowed; his hair was silver not gold, and Kaimelas could only think how much Legolas looked like his mother. “I belittle not your bravery or skill; ‘twas that damned arrow brought you low. Seimiel knows this; she knows you are valiant and quick and clever; why would she have married you otherwise? She is dear to me, as are you; if aught happened to you, she would be overcome, and how could I live thus? It was hard enough when I saw you lying in the waggon, pale and deathly; how can you risk such grief to the woman you love?”

“You play my heart against me,” said Kaimelas in a choked voice. “Still do I see you as that little boy, running at my heels with a two-foot bow, begging to go with Belias and me to the hunt! That my little prince is a man grown is still strange to me and I yet feel my king’s command to succor and protect you. Do you not think I should grieve as well, were you to go unto the north, and return not from dangers unknown? And upon my head also would be the guilt of knowing I might have helped you, but was forbidden to go.”

“There, Legolas,” said Faramir with a smile. “Your words have betrayed you; you cannot leave him now! Besides which, he will tell Galás, and your seneschal will send Meivel to fetch you back; that would be disastrous.”

“Bring me with you, my lord, and I will be silent to Galás,” said Kaimelas. Shaking Legolas’ hand from his hair, he dropped to his knees and pled, “I beseech you, little Lassah, leave me not behind! We will leave together tomorrow – we might slip past Meivel’s patrols – how can you think I should face either your father the king, or my lady wife, were I to skulk in your dressing-room? I swear to you, O Prince, that I will betray you not to your seneschal; I will bear his wrath to be with you, and my wife’s also.”

“Seimiel would frighten me more than Galás,” said Legolas with a sad smile. “How persuasive you are! Nay, you are right; I can no more let you languish here than stay myself. Rise, then, Kaimelas!” He drew Kaimelas to his feet. “But I tell you this; if at any time we face some danger that threatens us, and your breath stutters and stalls, I command you to withdraw; I will not return to your wife to tell her you fell in a battle you could not join.”

“That is just,” agreed Kaimelas, looking relieved. “But let me go with you, and I swear I shall take as good care as do you of me.”

“Very well,” said Legolas with a sigh. “Go then! Wake Tamin, and pack our things. I will fetch Gimli and Bandobras, and at first light we shall go, to see what is sending me these visions of snakes and spiders.” Kaimelas taking Legolas’ hand in his own kissed it; then saluting Faramir, he hurried from the room.

Faramir watched him go, troubled; he had seen the vision through Legolas’ eyes of the valet, gasping, the arrow trembling with each labored breath in the bloodied chest; he too had seen dark-haired Kaimelas struggling and pale at Amon Din. He stood in silence watching Legolas dress, and as the dawn paled the sky, the eerie glow that ever fascinated him faded from his friend’s skin. Legolas turned to Faramir with a grim smile, and buckled his belt, and said: “Do not look so low, my friend; Ushtâk is centuries slain, and Dol Guldur but a memory now. Greenwood the Great may well be threatened, but it is free of Morgoth’s evil at least.”

“Arrows kill from men as well as orcs,” said Faramir. “I dreamt not only of Ushtâk, Legolas.”

“Oh?” Legolas began throwing his clothes into the trunk. “I ought to fold these I suppose but that is so tedious … what did you dream, Faramir?”

“I saw the snake surround you,” said Faramir slowly. He sounded reluctant to speak. “It wound its coils round your body, and like the black snake slays the viper it squeezed you tight; then the snake burst, and its black blood covered you. You convulsed upon the dirt, with foam and froth coming from your mouth, and you … you died.”

Legolas stood very still, holding one of his shirts; he looked out the window, at the greenish sky streaked with rosy clouds, the trees black against the shimmering dome. One lone star twinkled at him, and somewhere outside the window a nightingale warbled. He drew the sleeve of the shirt through his hands absently, letting the fine linen fall against his palm; when he found the little brass buttons at the cuff he rolled them about in his fingers. He could hear Faramir breathing, harsher and faster than usual, but somehow he felt very calm. He turned to Faramir with a smile.

“My friend,” he said, holding out his hand. “Like a brother you have been to me, dear and wise and full of fun. And Éowyn your wife as a sister has been, and your children near mine own. When I have stumbled, you have helped me up; when I am hungered, you feed me good food, and when I am thirsty give me fine wine. When I weep, you comfort me, and when I triumph, you rejoice with me. In you are no envy or deceit or evil; you are a child of Númenor, and this humble Sindar prince is grateful for the fortuity of our congress. I tell you this: I will go, and see to this snake; and if you dream true, O Faramir my dear friend, and I return not, know that I love you, and esteem your amity above all Men I have known, for centuries past.” Faramir’s eyes filled with tears, and Legolas embraced him and said: “Do not weep yet! I breathe still, and mine arm is strong. Save your weeping for a later time. But I beg you, O Faramir, do not relay this dream to anyone else, for they would seek to restrain me. That you allow me to go, even to mine own death, comforts me; indeed I believe that is why I love you, and why all should love you; you seek the utmost of everyone, irrespective of your feelings for them. I am a better Elf for having known you.”

“You tell me to weep not, yet bid me good-bye as though we shall not see each other again!” said Faramir with a shaking laugh, kissing Legolas’ forehead. “How aggravating you are! Well, if you come across the opportunity to die, I beg of you to pass it up; for if you return not from the North and Éowyn finds out I let you go, she will never forgive me. And anyway, who shall see her in her time of need? I could call for Liquíseleé I suppose, but I would much rather have you here. See to the snake by all means, but return to us, O Legolas my friend; else I shall at the end of my days pursue you to Mandos, and with Námo's permission give you such a dressing-down your ghostly ears shall sting for centuries!”

“Save your dressing-down for Fastred,” laughed Legolas, giving Faramir one last quick embrace, and wiping his friend’s tears away with his thumb ere returning to his packing. “He needs it more than I, I deem. And speaking of our young charges, I will take Tamin with me; ‘twould be awkward for you to leave him here, and I can at least give him unto his uncle Orophin should things go amiss.”

“Tamin will be glad to hear it,” smiled Faramir. “I know he is ever curious, and the journey will be interesting for him. I am sure he will be in paroxysms of delight when he finds out.”

“He knows already; he is listening at the door,” said Legolas, and Faramir turning in surprise saw Tamin sheepishly creep round the lintel, his cheeks scarlet and his swollen and blackened eyes streaming. “Tamin! What have I told you about listening at oaks?”

“I sought your well-being, Master,” said Tamin meekly, giving an aggrieved snuffle.

“Hm!” said Legolas; his mouth was grim, but Faramir saw his eyes were twinkling. “Well, get you to the butteries and see to the supplies. Pick up Bandobras on your way; he is good at this sort of thing and will instruct you well. And mind you do not forget to remember the salt!”

“Yes, Master!” said Tamin to his feet, and looking very low, he crept out. Legolas turned to Faramir with a jolly laugh.

“What servants I have!” he exclaimed. “They spy and sneak and connive! Thank the heavens for friends like you and Gimli, else I should be constrained to do naught but sit in my room and learn to embroider.”

“Never! You would rather climb out the window,” said Faramir. “Well let me dress at least, and give you a proper farewell in our chambers; my womenfolk will find that gratifying, and perchance I might persuade my eldest son to give unto your esquire a suitable apology ere you go.”

“I wish you all the luck of it,” said Legolas, “but I do fear me your pleas shall fall on deaf ears. Fastred sulked all evening in his rooms, and would not even speak to Théodred; he has offered neither apology nor explanation to anyone. Where did he get these fine new friends of his, Faramir?”

“Distant relatives of my Lord Father’s,” said Faramir with a grimace, turning to go. “I think me it is time to clean house; do you agree?”

“It is your house to clean,” smiled Legolas. Faramir hesitated in the doorway, his hand on the lintel; he looked very troubled. He raised his grey eyes to Legolas’ face, and Legolas shook his head and sighed.

“Let us be of good cheer, son of Denethor,” he said comfortingly.

“Be you rather of good health, son of Thranduil,” said Faramir, and walked away.