Chapter 1

My head began aching – more and more as I slipped into consciousness. I was thrown over a shoulder, jostled violently with every step.

"Rhava!" I looked over. I faintly saw the Merry and Pippin's curly russet hair before I groaned and let my head fall again, passing out despite intense nausea that was overcoming me.

We were with the orcs for days. I was getting weaker with lack of food and water. The only thing that kept me alive was the hope that Aragorn and the others would be upon us soon – and the threat of darkness escaping me.

Galadriel's warnings echoed in my mind:

"Upon your death, the darkness living inside you will find another host. She has healed you many times to keep you healthy."

"I cannot contain it. It is eating me away." Tears slid down my face.

"You have to. It is your destiny." She poured a small amount of water into the basin. "Please, look into the mirror."

I stepped forward nervously. Haldir gave me a reassuring nod from his spot at the edge of the clearing. I leaned over and looked into the still water. Images began swirling in the depths. I was fighting; my knives clashed against my enemies. Orcs were falling all around me. It was not just me. Other elves ran into the thick of battle behind me. I was yelling inaudible commands. My brother was just struck down – burned alive clutched in the hands of the Dark Lord himself. I inherited my brother's throne until She found me. She identified the Dark Lord's next threat and attacked me. She was a cloud of black smoke in the shape of a woman. She struck me in the shoulder with her sharp, whip-like touch and dissipated. I spun around, searching for my enemy. Another strike. I still searched. She continued her game until I was on my knees, begging for Her mercy. Then, She revealed herself: A woman with gray skin and obsidian hair. Her eyes were on fire. She smirked and clutched my throat. I choked and spat up blood from the wounds She had made in my stomach. That was when it happened: Isildur cut the ring from Sauron's hand. The Woman screeched and dropped me. She was wounded by Her Master's defeat. As She whimpered from her wounds, Her eyes met mine. She grinned wickedly through her pain and dissipated again. The black smoke that was once Her body was sucked into my skin. I screamed and convulsed. Every inch of my skin singed as if it were on fire, then healed itself. I faded into darkness. The water grew still. All I could see now was the reflection of the stars.

The orcs shocked me from my thoughts. "We're not going no further until we've had a breather." They threw me roughly to the ground next to Merry and Pippin. I curled up in a ball, attempting to ignore the vomit rising in my throat from pure physical exhaustion and the spinning headache from my wound.

"Get a fire going!"

"Rhava, are you okay?" One of the hobbits whispered. I nodded as I groaned at the sore pain in my abdomen. The orcs began chopping at the trees, they groaned with every axe that split their bark.

Fangorn. They are taking us to Isengard. We have to make it to the trees. I know this forest; I can get Merry and Pippin to safety as long as we make it into the forest. It will not be easy if the orcs keep angering the trees.

"What's that sound?"

"It's the trees," I whispered. "They're angry."

"What?"

Merry answered his friend's question, "You remember the Old Forest, on the borders of Buckland? Folk used to say there was something in the water that made the trees grow tall, and come alive."

"Alive?"

"Trees that could whisper, talk to each other, even move."

"The stories are true," I whispered. "We have to make it to the trees."

An orc grabbed my shoulder and rolled me over on my back. I looked up at his gangly face with a sneer. "The Master said to bring them alive, that doesn't mean we can't do anything to them." He smirked at me with his rotted, jagged teeth and examined my body grossly.

I spit in his face.

The orc growled and kicked me in my ribs. A crunching sound followed. All of the air rushed from my lungs, leaving me a gasping, quivering mess. Tears spilled from the sharp pain. I rolled on my side and whimpered.

"Don't touch her!" The leader commanded.

"Are you okay?" Pippin asked.

"He broke something," I panted. "A rib, maybe two." The Hobbits stared at me fearfully, unsure of what to do to help.

"I'm starving. We ain't had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days!" An orc roared.

A whiny voiced orc responded, "Yeah! Why can't we have some meat?!" He looked at us, "What about them? They're fresh."

"They are not for eating."

An Uruk pulled Merry and Pippin to their feet, and then he grabbed me by my waist and threw me on my feet. I toppled over and fell to my knees next to Merry and Pippin.

Another vile creature stepped up, "What about their legs? They don't need those." He jumped towards us. "They look tasty."

The leader pushed the orc back. "Get back, scum! The prisoners go to Saruman. Alive and unspoiled."

"Alive? Why alive? Do they give good sport?"

"They carry something. An Elvish weapon. The master needs it for the war."

"They think we have the ring!" Pippin whispered.

Saruman is winning two weapons in one sweep.

"As soon as the find out we don't we're dead!" Merry looked at me. "Why do they want you?"

I ignored him and focused on the orcs that were surrounding us. I hope the others are close. We will not last much longer here.

"Just a mouthful, a bit of the flank." A gangly orc raised his blade at us from behind.

The leader roared and chopped off the gangly orcs head. The vile thing fell over Merry and Pippin's shoulders and rolled to my knees.

"Looks like meats back on the menu, boys!"

They threw us back to the ground in their angry charge to reach the corpse. The orcs crowded around the dead body, throwing intestines and other appendages as they were feasting.

"Merry, Pippin, go!" I whispered.

The two crawled away; I closely followed, struggling with the pain in my side. I am not going to make it.

An orc grabbed the Hobbits. "Go on. Call for help. Squeal. No one's going to save you now." He raised his blade. A spear flew through the air and pierced the orc on top of me.

I flipped the orc over and placed his blade between my legs; I severed the rope around my wrists quickly. I crawled to Merry and Pippin and cut their bonds as well.

"Go!" I yelled, seeing another orc advancing on us. "Run!"

Before I could run after them, he caught my waist – the same vile one that was looking at me so obscenely – so hungrily. He smiled, showing his rotted teeth again. He threw me onto my back and attempted to thrust his sword in me. I caught his arm in time.

I punched him in the face and he recoiled for a moment – and then, with a growl, he struck me hard in the face. My teeth sliced my bottom lip and my mouth filled with thick, hot blood. I spat the blood back in his face. I regretted fighting as he raised his blade over his head and readied to strike. I closed my eyes and readied myself for death, but all that followed was a pained screech from the orc on top of me. He collapsed with a last groan.

Horses stampeded around me. Screeches from orcs and men came from every direction. Yet, somehow, I managed to throw the large orc off me and run through the mayhem – I do not remember the trip. I only remember waking safely in the cover of the trees after succumbing to the unconsciousness from my own blood loss.

I awoke to a loud flurry of Elvish – it was the voice of a lord. A man responded – a lord's voice, as well – but, it was not an elf's voice. Even from a distance, I could hear the cracks and inflections that are only present in the voice of a human. Once I heard that distinct grunting from that dwarf, I knew.

I could not call out to them. I could not move. I had not had food or drink in nearly a week. I would die here if they could not find me. To my great luck, Aragorn is a great tracker. I opened my eyes in the dim light of the forest. There was an orc lying on top of me – how I killed it, I do not know – but all of its weight was on me.

"Rhava," Legolas gasped.

I wheezed a response under the weight of the Uruk. He threw the orc off me – air rushed into my lungs finally. He crouched to my side and held a canteen to my lips. I nearly drank all of his water before I found strength enough to sit up.

Legolas helped me up; I rested my head on his shoulder as the others made their way into the clearing. "It was not hard to track me, I gather?" I croaked.

"There was a trail of blood," Legolas responded, touching the scar on my lips and then the cuts on my legs. "How are you alive?" he whispered with a concerned, yet thankful, look.

"I thought I made it clear why I am so hard to kill," I croaked.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Do we have Lembas bread left?" he asked Aragorn and Gimli.

Rustling followed and Legolas held a piece of Lembas to my lips. I took small bites to avoid aggravating the cuts on my lips. "Go, find Merry and Pippin, we will follow," I croaked to the others, who were watching our behavior suspiciously from behind Legolas.

Once they had left the clearing, Legolas's lips were on mine. His kiss was gentle, seeing the purple bruise and scar on my bottom lip. "I thought you were dead," he breathed after parting from the kiss.

"So did I." I laughed weakly. The Lembas bread was giving me strength.

"Can you stand?" he asked, looking off to where Aragorn and Gimli had disappeared to.

"Yes," I groaned. I did not want to, but I could.

Legolas pulled something from his back: my bow. "You dropped this," he explained.

"And you carried it for me," I stated in disbelief.

"I couldn't save your quill, but you can use my arrows –"

I cut his sentence short with a kiss.

His usually stoic face lit up with a wide smile. "I also found these," he grinned as he presented my knives – the light-colored wood was burned slightly, and it looked like some of the gold had been misshaped from heat – but at least I would have them. "What do I get for that?"

"An orc must have taken them off me," I whispered, taking one of the knives from his hands. I would have to get them repaired – I just hoped I could find someone who knew how to handle them. My brother had given them to me when we lived in Lindon – they were from the Grey Havens. So many parts had been replaced on them over time that they had basically become new knives, except for the gold. I had always managed to save the gold.

"They are important to you," Legolas observed.

"Yes," I said simply. I leaned up and planted another sweet kiss on his lips.

He did not push further. He instead leaned past me and pulled something from the stinky dead orc that was lying next to us. "I believe this is yours as well," he said, handing me a small black dagger.

So, that is how I killed it.

I took the dagger and shoved it back in the hidden breast pocket in the inside of my jacket. I shoved my knives in my boots – it was the safest place at the moment, since I was missing my quill and scabbards. Legolas held me as I attempted to stand.

"I'm fine," I whispered.

"No, you are not. You were taken by orcs. They starved you, abused you, and even attempted to defile you," he hissed.

I did not remember fighting the last Uruk – but, by the state of my clothing, it looked as if they did attempt that. Legolas swept me up in his arms and nimbly carried me over the branches. I carried my bow in one of the hands hooked around his neck. I observed his profile – it was as if every similarity between him and his father had vanished – his eyes were more kind, his face serious, and his jaw was stronger. He looked more like a warrior.

I did not remember why I pushed him away so often. I only remembered how I wanted to be close to him when I was being held captive by the orcs.

His mother was fierce. Legolas was a better warrior than his father. He was born a warrior. His mother fought in the Last Alliance – and lived through Oropher's command while very few elves did. He fought like his mother: he was graceful, light-footed, and strong. Thranduil preferred dual swords. He was a solid fighter, heavy in his stance.

I traced along Legolas's braids as I watched him. I gently slid my finger over the point of his ear, making him shiver. He leaned against my hand and kissed my palm. I made our contact look more platonic as we neared Aragorn and Gimli.

Aragorn examined me when we reached him. "You have healed quickly," he said, with a knowing look.

"My wounds are healing, but I have a broken rib."

He nodded, and we moved on.

"This forest is old. Very old. Full of memory, and anger." Legolas said softly as he anxiously glanced at the trees. "The trees are speaking to each other."

I closed my eyes and listened to the deep groans of the trees. I could feel the life in the forest. From the exterior, it seemed dead and perilous, but the depths of the forest were always comforting to me. I do not know what led me here after the battle, but I had awoken here at the beginning of the Third Age, safe when I had believed I was dead. I was meant to die there. I was meant to die with my brother – with my soldiers.

Gimli grunted and raised his axe, waiting for the danger to present itself.

"Gimli! Lower your axe!" Aragorn warned.

He gasped and dropped the weapon.

"They have feelings, my friend. The Elves began it. Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak." Legolas explained.

"Something is coming," I whispered to Legolas. My eyes were still closed, but I could feel the forest. He lowered me to my feet. I stood weakly and held onto his shoulder for balance.

"Talking trees. What do trees have to talk about? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings." Gimli grunted.

"Aragorn, nad no ennas," (something is out there) Legolas said.

"Man cenich?" (What do you see) Aragorn responded.

"The White Wizard approaches." Legolas stiffened and pulled an arrow.

I pulled an arrow from his quiver and readied myself.

"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us," Aragorn whispered urgently. "We must be quick." Twigs snapped behind us as the wizard came closer.

We spun around suddenly. Gimli threw his axe towards a bright white light. It fell to the ground. Legolas and I fired our arrows, which were deflected. Aragorn dropped his sword suddenly and stared down at his burned hands.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits," the figure spoke. I was alarmed by his voice. I expected to be allured to the dark wizard's words, but I felt instantly repelled.

"Where are they?" Aragorn yelled.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you? Show yourself!"

The wizard stepped from the bright light. In place of Saruman, Gandalf stood. Breath was sucked from my lungs.

"It cannot be." Aragorn whispered.

"Forgive me," Legolas kneeled down, "I mistook you for Saruman."

I joined him, using his shoulder for support, but it was more of a collapse than a kneel. My body was completely exhausted again. He wrapped an arm around my waist and helped me down to my knees.

"I am Saruman. Or rather, Saruman as he should have been." Gandalf smiled.

"You fell," Aragorn stepped towards him.

"Through fire, and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last I threw down my enemy, and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age of the Earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done."

"Gandalf," Aragorn whispered in disbelief.

"Gandalf? Yes. That was what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

"Gandalf," Aragorn whispered again.

"I am Gandalf the White. And I come back to you now, at the turn of the tide." He smiled. He began walking, expecting us to follow.

Legolas helped me to my feet and slung one of my arms over his shoulders. He supported most of my weight as we followed Gandalf.

"One stage of your journey is over. Another begins. We must travel to Edoras with all speed."

"Edoras? That is no short distance!" Gimli exclaimed.

"We hear of trouble in Rohan. It goes ill with the king." Aragorn explained.

"Yes, and it will not be easily cured."

"Then we have run all this way for nothing? Are we to leave those poor Hobbits here in this horrid, dark, dank tree-infested-?" The trees began groaning, "I mean, charming, quite charming forest." Gimli said nervously.

"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains."

"In one thing you have not changed, dear friend," Aragorn laughed, "You still speak in riddles."

"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days. The Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong."

"Strong?!" Gimli glanced around nervously and the trees groaned again. "Oh, that's good."

"So stop your fretting, Master Dwarf. Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be."

We exited the forest. Two horses were waiting on us.

"We met the Rohirrim," Legolas explained.

"This far from Edoras?"

"Éomer, the king's nephew, has been banished."

"The king truly has lost his mind, then," I whispered.

Gandalf whistled loudly. A white horse appeared on the horizon, running in the direction of his call.

"That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell," Legolas said.

Gandalf greeted the horse, "Shadowfax. He is the lord of all horses, and has been my friend through many dangers."

"Where's Boromir?" I asked, looking for the familiar, friendly face.

Legolas's face fell. "I'm sorry, Rhava."

I knew – in my gut. I had only seen one arrow strike him, yet I had a feeling he would not survive the quest.

"Frodo? Sam?"

"They departed for Mordor on their own – after Boromir fell for the ring," Legolas explained.

Good. I was next. Yet, if they do not make it, I am still doomed. The Men could fight, but Sauron will take his control of me. He will corrupt my heart and force Her to take over my body. He will use me to slaughter my own people.

Legolas sensed my thoughts, and did not explain further. "Gimli, Rhava will have to ride with me." Legolas looked at the Dwarf who nodded in response; he looked suspiciously between Legolas and me.

Legolas grabbed my arm and pulled me towards a white horse. "This is Arod." He smiled. He could not have had the horse longer than a day, yet he seemed very fond of it already. Animal did not like me – ever since the Last Alliance.

Throughout our journey to Edoras, I fell asleep against Legolas – nearly gaining all of my strength back. mental and physical.

I must learn to resist the temptation, I thought, even as I leaned against his back. Temptation is what brought Thranduil and I to our fates. I was doomed to darkness, and his wife had fallen to save the son that will most likely die in battle against the Enemy. I cannot doom Legolas to my fate. Yet, I could not seem to stop.