Legolas sat in the crook of the tree, a switch of wood and small knife in his hands. He whittled away at the once-thick stick, eventually snapping it in half. His strength as an elf was well known to him, but it bothered him that the stick always broke before he was done venting his energy.

He leaned back, sighing. His back rested against the solid trunk of the tree, the rough bark pressing hard through the simple green-grey tunic he wore.

The view from up here was amazing. It showed him the expanse of Mirkwood, the fog of the morning stretching out seemingly forever. The only things that moved were the silver highlights that glittered in the mist.

The 'young' elf had returned to his home only last night, and already he was dreaming and wishing for another adventure. Upon arrival, he had immediately shed his traveling clothes for the plain tunic and grey pants. He wore sandals on his feet instead of his faithful boots.

A familiar voice broke through the mists, and Legolas immediately recognized it as Aragorn's humming. What was the king doing here? The sound of horse hooves, many of them, resonated through the trees.

The elf stood on the branch and tucked in his shirt. Quickly, he dropped down through the mist, landing silently on the ground.

He had touched ground just behind Aragorn's escort. One of the rear guards saw him out of the corner of his eye and spun, releasing a startled cry. Legolas held out his hands to calm the horse.

"Legolas, why do you pounce on us so?" The dark haired king sighed, riding up to his friend. Aragorn wore no armor, but a cleaner version of his black ranger clothing. The black still accented his face, though it brought worry to light.

"What has happened?" Legolas asked bluntly.

One of the guards was going to protest his straightforward words, as he used no excessive courtesy, even though Aragorn was royalty now, but the king chuckled weakly.

"Gimli has been captured by the Moria orcs, along with many of his associates," Aragorn spoke of a fateful visit to Moria that had resulted in the dwarves' ambush and seizure, "We have need of an elf with the knowledge of the deep areas of Khazad-Dûm."

Legolas looked passively at the king, allowing no emotion to show on his face. Gimli was a friend, yes, as was Aragorn.

The elf nodded, "I will go with you."

"Good. Come, we ride to your father's table," Aragorn offered his hand to his friend, as to give him a ride, but Legolas shied away slightly. Instead of riding, the elf walked beside him, his sandals utterly silent on the forest trail.

"I have missed the old adventure," Aragorn said as they walked and rode through the fog.

"The Great Road goes on, my friend, and I long to tread it once again as well," Legolas sighed slightly.

He remembered that Gimli had returned to Moria with a large contingent of dwarves from all over the whole of Middle-earth. They had been able to retake the upper halls from the Orcs, and were working to reclaim the whole of Moria.

Legolas assumed that they had to rebuild the bridge of Khazad-Dûm before they were able to do much, plus the large stair that had been destroyed as well.

Why would Gimli return to Moria? Did he not say himself that the Glittering Caves would be a more precious prize? Legolas pondered many things, so many, that he began to block out the conversations around him.

"Master Elf, may I ask you a question?" One of Aragorn's escorts interrupted his deeper than normal thought.

"Yes, you may," He looked up at the young man on the horse.

"What was it like in the deep of Moria? For you, as an elf," This young man was dressed more as a bard than a warrior or a guard, and he held a small, leather-bound book in his hands, along with a small jar of ink and a short quill.

"It was a horror that I would not touch again in my life, if a choice I were given," That was all Legolas would say.

Aragorn could see that Legolas was troubled. He had not expected a response so quickly, and Legolas was not known for hasty choices.

The elf never stumbled, nor did his eyes waver from the mist ahead. The young king, astride on his horse, feared the worst from the early morning fog.

A thought suddenly struck him. What was Legolas doing in that tree?

The home of Thranduil opened out of the mist before them. Thranduil himself stood by the door, as if waiting for them. As the humans dismounted, Legolas approached and was immediately handed a long sleeved robe for over his clothing.

Aragorn bowed before the Elf-King of Mirkwood and was immediately ushered into the large main room. Inside, there was a healthy fire burning in the hearth.

"I know why you have come, Aragorn, and for the safety of my son, I must refuse," Thranduil stated as he walked up to the head of the large table that stood lengthwise to the fireplace, "I have heard many stories of the horrors of that place, and I have seen them as well."

"A friend is in dire need, Lord Thranduil, and Legolas knows the deep of Moria," Aragorn winced. He was not supposed to speak of the times, at night, when Legolas had disappeared into the darkness, exploring.

"I also know of the foolish nights he spent searching that wretched place," Thranduil leaned on the table with his fists, "Moria is known to no elf more than my son. A map, he has made, and a map he shall give you. Nothing more."

A few more minutes of entreating, punctuated by glances at Legolas' quiet, unmoving frame, Aragorn gave up. This elf was as unmovable as the pillars of Dwarrowdelf themselves.

He sighed in defeat, "I will abide by your decision, Lord Thranduil."

"Good. Enough of this foolishness," Thranduil nodded and turned to his attendants, "See to their horses, and make sure that they have good food and water."

Aragorn thought quickly, "The ride to Minas Tirith is long, and then to Moria, 'tis longer still. I ask only that we be allowed to stay here until dawn's light tomorrow."

"I am not a tyrant, Aragorn, King of Gondor," The Elf-King held no warming smile, "You are welcome in my house for as long as I myself dwell here. Take rest here, with us, in this home, but I will hear no more of this expedition, for you or my son."

The young bard, who had introduced himself as Corgan, slipped his cowl back quickly, nervously. His hair was fair, but more yellow than blonde, like the elves, but it held almost the same length.

Aragorn could have sworn that he saw a high collar of armor hidden under the lively dark blue of his tunic, but a shrug by the young bard blocked his sight.

"Thank you, Elf-King," Aragorn, slightly angered by what had just transpired, left the room. He stood in the outer hall, watching the morning mist lift as his men, led by elven guides, were accompanied to their places of choice.

"I will not argue my father's word in front of a human or elf," Legolas said emotionlessly as he joined his friend by the door. His over-robe was light green, but had enough grey to make it seem as if he could melt into the wall.

"Then you will not come," Aragorn clenched his teeth, "Gimli could be dying and we would have no recourse but to rely on a map. We have no hope, for elvish ears and elvish eyes would be invaluable in the deep."

Legolas said nothing. Aragorn realized that he had disappeared.

"Probably for the best," He resolved to catch the Elf-King and his son alone, so as to force Legolas to speak his mind. Surely the King would listen to his own son…

"You have been unusually silent since your return, my son," Thranduil stood in Legolas' chambers as his son dug through the chest at the foot of his sleep couch, looking for the map-book he had drawn. It was largely incomplete, chronicling only what he had seen and had been fortunate enough to find in books.

"Aye, father, I am troubled, for the dwarf had been a friend through the war, and is a great warrior," He slipped the large book of parchment out and closed the trunk.

"He is naught but a dwarf," Thranduil pressed against the bridge of his nose, "I see not why you worry about him so."

"Father, he has been a close friend. I know that this friendship is strange, but this dwarf has been the elves' one chance to rebuild the torn alliance between the them and the dwarves," He opened the map-book out on his sleep couch.

"If I find you not in this room tomorrow night, there will be hell to pay," The king swore.

His son merely smiled, "If I am not in this room, then into hell will I be going."

Thranduil watched his son close the map and slip silently out of the room. A close eye would need to be held on the elven prince, for he was known for his silence and dexterity.

"I worry for you, son, though I should not," He shook his head and moved to leave the room, "If death comes for you, I pray that Adunólae will not suffer the death of grief."

As if being summoned, there was a knock on the door and an elven woman looked in.

"Ah, my lord," She curtsied, "Where is Legolas? We were to meet, but the King of Gondor came. He is with him, then, my king?"

"Aye, Adunólae, he is," Thranduil smiled at his soon-to-be daughter-in-law, "Though I know no when he shall be available."

"I know his mind, my lord," She smiled slightly, readjusting the wreath of silver that was braided into her light blonde hair, "He will return when he is ready. Until then, I shall wait with his face in my eyes."

Thranduil knew that Legolas and Adunólae were in love since the first day they had met so long ago. He also knew that Legolas could love no other, and would be faithful, past the day of his crossing through the Grey Havens.

He also knew that she would die of grief should his son be slain by orcs. Or she would die by the orcish hand that killed her love.

"Is something wrong, my lord?" She tipped her head to the side. She was pretty, but her beauty was not of renown. What should happen to her if my son is killed…?

"There is, but it is my own to know," He smiled at her, "Go, and walk the garden. The blue roses from Lothlórien have gone to bloom."

"Thank you, king-father," She ducked out with a smile and a quick curtsy. Her strong area was not flowers, but loyalty, to the death and beyond.

Thranduil looked around the room one more time, then walked out slowly.

Legolas gave the map to Aragorn, "I fear that it is not complete, but that is what I know, hall by hall."

"I still do not think that this will help us," Aragorn handed the book to Corgan, who swept it up and began reading with gusto.

"So many elvish words," He said, his vaguely deep voice sighing, "I cannot understand how it takes so little time to write these letters. I, myself, have tried and failed to write an entire sentence in under four minutes."

"It is a skill that must be cultivated in humans, though dwarves have a much tougher time than most," Aragorn responded, thinking of Gimli, trying to write a single letter. He gave up after many tries.

There was a knock at the door, and three guards walked in, with their guide.

"My lord! The elves have given us permission to use the archery range," One man, an archer, was excited, "May we hold a competition of sorts?"

"A competition, no, but I believe that we do need practice," Aragorn looked at Legolas, "Will the prince join us?"

He nodded slightly.

The archery range was rimmed partially by trees, and then an open-air shelter stood by one side. Aragorn and his men waited for the signal to release their first arrows. When it came, the targets held tightly against the speeding missiles.

While they shot, only Aragorn, Legolas, and two of the king's escorts got bulls-eyes. After emptying their quivers, the first group yielded their positions to the next group and proceeded to retrieve their arrows.

"All bulls-eyes! Amazing!" Corgan looked at Legolas' target.

"Not very," Aragorn had two of the eight outside the center, "If you had seen him fight in the battle of Helm's Deep, or Moria, you would believe this to be easy for him."

"You did quite well for a bard," Legolas complimented Corgan as they walked back with their arrows, "Three out of eight is hard to get even from that range."

"Thank you," Corgan beamed and handed his arrows off to the man who was taking his place. Since most of their group had gone through the first time, only three more men stood at the line. Two elves took the targets at the far end.

Legolas slipped away quietly. It was surprising how fast time seemed to pass when he spent it with the humans. It was past midday, and he was supposed to meet Adunólae at dawn…

Legolas made his way through the trees, heading for the garden. Surely, she would be there…

He entered through the far entrance. He could see an elven woman sitting quietly on one of the marble benches, toying with an old trowel.

"Adunólae?" He approached quietly from behind. She spun around and stood, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug.

"I missed you this morning," Her strange brownish green eyes twinkled with mischief, "Then I heard about your friends coming, and about the dwarf…"

Legolas held her shoulders, then pulled her in for a gentle, long-lasting hug, "They want me to go with them, to try to save Gimli. But I do not know if I should. My father forbids it, but I feel like I owe it to Aragorn to at least try."

"Laegolas," She used his slightly different Sindarin name, "If you go, I will wait for you. If you stay, I would feel as if I held you back from what you needed to do."

"What should I do?" He looked into her eyes again.

"Go," She smiled, "And look back when you reach the large tree."

Legolas touched her cheek, gently tracing the high cheekbones. She smiled and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. He caught her cheek in his hand and kissed her gently.

"I shall stay here," She smiled and pulled away, "But you must return to me, else I follow."

Legolas took her hands in his, clasping them tightly, "Adunólae, this you must promise me. Never shall you follow me into the dark of Moria, never! If you have ever held our love dear, you must promise never to step into that accursed place."

She was slightly taken aback by his vehemence, but she nodded, "The sun, even now, wanes in the sky. I will gather my strength and see you off at the great tree."

Legolas leaned in and gave her one last kiss before he released her hands and left her standing alone in the garden. He slipped out of the far gate, returning to the archery range.

There, he found the elves giving Aragorn's escort a few good lessons in archery, but Aragorn himself was nowhere to be seen. Corgan told him that he had returned to the home, to prepare their belongings for their trek tomorrow.

Legolas found Aragorn studying the map-book intently, trying to find places where Gimli may have been held. The elf stood by the door silently until the king turned and motioned him in.

"I tried to reason with your father, but he is as stubborn as the dwarves themselves," Aragorn growled, "What will you do?"

"I will go, but I wish that I did not have to go against my father's wishes to do so," Legolas sighed and leaned against the wall, "This is a hard decision for me."

"Aye, I know, for I have seen the lovely Adunólae," Aragorn's eyes twinkled.

"That is not a joking matter," Legolas chuckled, "She keeps me as her own, but I have the same freedoms as I always had. I only wish that she were stronger with weapons. Then she could accompany me."

"But would you really let her come?" Aragorn closed the book and stood, facing Legolas, "In truth, would you?"

"Would you let Arwen?" Legolas shot back.

"No, I would not," Aragorn shook his head, "As you would not."

Outside, Thranduil's sharp hearing caught the conversation as he walked through the halls in search of his son. He growled in anger and spun, heading to his throne room to summon the captain of the guard.

Night fell, and Legolas awoke from his dream-trance. The room was dark, but there was someone in the room with him, someone who was not supposed to be there…

"Peace, Legolas! It is I," Adunólae hissed, shoving his saddlebags into his chest, "Hurry! Your father knows of your plans! You must leave now!"

"What of the others?" Legolas pulled his traveling clothes on quickly, quietly.

"They have already left the castle grounds," Once he stood up to pull his traveler tunic on over his shirt, she caught him off guard and kissed him quickly, "Hurry, for you do not have enough time!"

Legolas kept dressing until he was clothed and ready to go. His bow and quiver, along with his long-knives, were strapped to his back. Adunólae ducked outside, disappearing into the dimly lit halls. The elven prince caught the barest glimpse of a sheer green nightgown as she slipped through the door.

He ran quickly and silently through the halls. His father must seriously want him to stay. There were guards at every corner, and all of them probably had orders to detain him.

The elven prince avoided their eyes until he made it to the stables. His horse, Randir, was saddled and ready. As he led the steed into the moonlight, there was a loud cry from a guard.

Legolas mounted as fast as he could and rode into a gallop. There was no time for secrecy, for if he was to escape, he must ride hard to the great tree that stood south of his home.

He saw Aragorn and the others far in the distance. They all began to ride ahead once they spotted him.

Just as Legolas was about to overtake them, three elven guards broke into the space between them. Randir reared back and nearly bucked the elven prince off his back. The horse plowed through the three guards.

The guards rode after him, their cries raising the alarm. Another guard, one that Legolas knew to be Cioneth and a friend, rode out of the darkness to his right and drove his horse into Randir's side.

Legolas lost his grip on the horse's reigns and hit the ground hard. He was on his feet in an instant, running through the trees, dodging for all he was worth. I cannot be commanded as a young child! I must leave!

Cioneth dismounted and ran after him, as the three other guards joined the foot-chase as well. The elves were all equally fast, and the prince's only advantage was his knowledge of the forest about them.

"Aragorn!" Legolas heard Corgan's voice long before he heard the bard's horse's hoof beats, "I see him!"

The bard was riding hard to get to the prince before the four guardsmen did. But he did not make it there in time. Cioneth caught Legolas' shoulder. Legolas pulled away, and spun to face him.

When he did this, he threw the guard off-balance. The elf fell forward, snatching the prince's ankles tightly. Legolas fell hard, and, instantly, the two guardsmen had caught his arms up.

The last guard pulled Cioneth to his feet. The elven guard spoke, "Legolas, my prince, I am sorry for what we must do. It is by your father's command."

"Release me!" Legolas commanded, "It is not my father's place to condemn a friend to death!"

Cioneth was silent, then he looked at the two guards that held the elven prince's wrists and arms tightly. "We must get him back to his father."

Legolas struggled against the two elves, but they, together, were much stronger than he was. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Corgan and Aragorn were watching with expressions of loss.

Even as he struggled, there, in the strong grips of his friends-turned-captors, far away, in the depths of Moria, a black skinned sorcerer watched his predicament with sharp teeth that were revealed by a scornful sneer.

"I gave you a strict command!" Thranduil stormed angrily. His son was seated in a high-backed chair, flanked on both sides by guards, "I gave you orders to stay! Why did you disobey me?"

Legolas was quiet. He simply eyed the guards, looking for weakness, a chance…

"Answer me!"

"I found that it is not your place to condemn a life," He responded finally, "And that it should be my choice what I do with my life and health."

"You are my son! And as such, you shall obey my commands!" The king was enraged. The prince was also becoming angry, his cheeks becoming flushed. He jumped to his feet, with the guards grabbing his arms.

"That may have been acceptable two thousand years ago, but I am no longer a child as I once was! I have my own choices to make!" Legolas pulled against the guards' grip, "I will not allow you to treat me as you would a human baby!"

There came a swift movement that Legolas never thought that he would ever feel again. In less than a second, there was a vivid, burning pain that flashed across his face, spreading from his cheek to his eyes, then to the other side of his face.

He had been slapped.

Thranduil straightened his robes, "You are acting as a child, so I shall treat you as a child. Your age is of no concern to me, as you are my son."

Legolas gasped from the pain, for his father's hit was fiercer than any orc club could ever be. His father waved a hand in dismissal, and the two guards led Legolas away.

His room seemed dark and dismal now. Shadows crept across the walls as the guards barred the windows closed with the gates that were built around them. Then the two elves disappeared outside, locking the door from the outside.

The first thing he did was smash his fists onto his desk in pure, unadulterated anger. He is being overprotective! Never before has he acted in such a way! Is it because of what I have done, or of someone else, someone close to me…

Thranduil slouched into his chair, alone in the large council room

Or so he thought…

"My lord," Adunólae stood behind his chair, sadness tingeing her voice, "He is no longer your son as you know him. He has his own life…"

Thranduil, angry and enraged, leapt out of his seat and spun to face the elven woman. His grip on her shoulders was painful at best.

"I had a vision of my son, trapped in the deadly grasp of a large, fiery eyed creature," The king locked his gaze with hers. Adunólae began to become frightened, "He was dead, or very close to it."

"W-what?" She whispered.

"Blood ran from his mouth, and a tentacle of the creature was forced down his throat," Thranduil's eyes became misty, "The king of Gondor was there, as were the dwarves and the humans. They could do nothing as the thing killed my son."

"Dreams are unreliable, my lord," Adunólae spoke shakily, "What if what you saw…you cannot be sure!"

Thranduil pushed her away angrily, "I will hear no more of you! Go! Leave me in peace! And go not to my son!"

Adunólae was confused and frightened. She didn't know what to think. All she could do was run out of the room, past two very surprised guards, then push past two attendants, just to dash, down the halls and into the darkest of night…

"Legolas! Oh, dear Legolas!" Adunólae cried softly, grasping the vines of the window-gates. She hoped that she was not too late, that he had not already escaped, "Please!"

"Adunólae?" The elven prince stood from where he was quietly sulking, "Why…?"

"Ask no questions," She reached through the gate to touch his forearm, "Your father has told me his reasons for keeping you here!"

He scowled, "He is being overprotective."

"No, far from it!" She grasped tightly, "He saw, in a dream, a great monster, one that would be your most certain doom. I cannot allow you to fall to a fate such as that. Please do not make me."

"My friend is dying," Legolas insisted.

"He could be dead already," Adunólae pulled away from him, when his eyes flared in anger, "You would strike me, then? For speaking what could be, and what may?"

"Hold!" He snapped. He didn't even want to think of that possibility.

"Then you have the same temper as your father, for his hand also has felt my cheek," She stepped back, frightened and confused, "I thought that I could release you from this prison, but I do not believe that it would be—"

A strong arm wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides. A gentle hand fell over her mouth.

"Shh, my lady, I mean you no harm," Aragorn whispered in her ear, "Legolas, are you ready?"

"Aye," His voice was less than excited, and the king wondered why.

"Then let us go. The way has been cleared," While Corgan climbed carefully over the wall with a lock pick satchel, Adunólae's eyes widened. She began to struggle wildly. Legolas edgily slipped through the opened gate to calm her.

"Adunólae, please, quiet," His hand replaced Aragorn's, "We have far to travel without my father riding close behind."

He took his hand away carefully.

"I cannot bear to see you die," A tear touched the fiery redness of the right side of her face, where a vivid handprint stood. Aragorn released her when he felt the tension in her body leave, but she cried out loudly, "Guards! Guards! Teli!"

Legolas spun to slam the window-gate shut as the guards from outside the room approached. Aragorn leapt forward to slam a quarterstaff into the vines, blocking it. His foot caught the back of Adunólae's.

With a cry, she fell back, over the short railing of the balcony. Legolas dove to the edge, straining to see if she was all right.

He could see nothing.

"We must away!" Aragorn fairly had to drag Legolas from the balcony, "Come!"

Adunólae broke from the blackness and disappeared into the gardens. Legolas sighed with relief when he saw that she was all right, then turned and followed the king of Gondor.

Their company rode long and hard for many days. There was little to slow them down once they left the southern ranges of Mirkwood. Miles upon miles of prairie land stood before them and passed quickly.

The walls of Moria, and the rebuilt West Gate, were guarded by heavily armed dwarves, three in number. At least, those that their group could see outside. They all were dressed in heavy armor and had suspicious looks on their faces, as if seeing an elf entering their land was an evil omen.

Legolas watched the dwarves as they rode to the Gate and dismounted. He was still disturbed about what Adunólae had said about a monster being his doom.

"You are the General's Companions?" A large dwarf with two double-sided axes slung on his back, under an enormous shield, walked up to them stiffly, "Yes?"

"Aye, we are," Aragorn said, "And this is my escort, some of the finest humans in all of Middle-earth. They are coming with me."

"Keep your eye on the elf," the dwarf growled, "He is unwelcome here."

"Might I inquire your name?" Aragorn asked politely. If it had been his Ranger days, he would have threatened the dwarf with his life.

"Bofir II, after my father," He looked at them both suspiciously as their Dwarven guides began to arrive at the West Gate behind him, "But you will call me by my first name only."

Legolas watched the diminutive being with some mirth. The little person seemed to be trying to act gruff, but, in reality, this young dwarf was legend as being one of the most hospitable dwarves in the whole of the world.

But perhaps elves are not considered worthy of hospitality, Just his insinuating thought made him slightly angry.

"Let us go," Bofir turned towards the door that was perfectly rebuilt. The moon-silver and Durin's Door stood as if nothing evil had ever happened in that calm place. Legolas shivered slightly as he saw the darkness inside.

One of the dwarves was going to laugh and jab at him when the thunderous pounding of hooves caught their attention. They turned to see a rather large horse approach, carrying a slightly thinner than normal person on his back.

"Adunólae!" Legolas' jaw dropped. Was this woman going to dog his steps the whole way?

"I am here only to give you this," She said, roughly thrusting a package into his chest, "It is a prayer, and a weapon. Nothing more."

Her face was emotionless as she remounted her horse, leaving a small thread of her dress caught on the sharp rocks. She and her horse rode off, back to Mirkwood. Legolas, stunned, opened the package.

Inside were a long, thin dagger and a quiver of arrows. Surprised by these mundane gifts, Legolas merely slipped them onto the quiver on his back and followed Aragorn to the doorway to hell…