Notes:

This is another story written from the vastly different points of view of our two main characters. There are many more stories in this series written in first person, but for some reason this is the only one we wrote in third person. For our stories to make sense you must accept our au ideas on the age elves reach adulthood which is around 1,000 years old according to us. Professor Tolkien says otherwise, but we have respectfully decided to ignore that!

As always we'd love to hear your (polite) comments!

This story contains the mention of non sexual spanking. If that offends, please do not read

Legolas' pov:

After days of travel they had left Rohan behind them and crossed the Anduin. Now the pair of them were moving steadily northward. Fangorn was behind them and the open plains were finally giving way to the trees of Eryn Lasgalen, yet Legolas felt no joy as he looked northwards.

Arda marred, how true that simple phrase was. From the Pelennor, fields where freshly dug mounds sheltered the glorious dead, through Rohan's rolling plains, where small hamlets and farms stood empty, their burned roofs and blackened timbers a mute testimony to the terror and death wrought by Sauron and his minions in the fighting during the spring and summer.

True there were signs of renewed life. Fields being tilled, rebuilding, even laughter and song as men toiled to build new and safer lives for themselves and their families. Mortal kind were resilient, far more than he had given the majority of them credit for. He had always thought that Estel was exceptional, but the quest had showed him that there were many who deserved his respect: Théoden, Eomer, Imrahil, Faramir, as well as the Hobbits. But one other had had the greatest effect on his admittedly somewhat jaundiced views on mortal. That someone was riding behind him now and snoring as loud as a dragon.

Legolas' lips twitched, knowing that should be accuse Gimli Gloinson, his hirsute and occasionally heavy handed guardian, of sleeping he would likely get his 'pointy ears' boxed for giving the dwarf 'sauce' as Samwise would describe it.
Their relationship had changed. It had grown and flourished as they travelled both on the Quest and in the wake of Sauron's fall. While Legolas sometimes found the dwarf's demands of good conduct and sensible behaviour a trial, still he knew without Gimli's support he may not have survived to be riding home. There had been several times on the Quest when Legolas had needed the strength and doughty endurance of his dwarven minder to ground him and give him hope. Had Gimli ever faltered in his belief that they would succeed? Legolas did not know and doubted he ever would. Were all dwarves as unyielding as Gimli? Did they never question their abilities to endure? They were like the stone and metals they mined and forged: obdurate, indomitable. Once given, their friendship was unwavering and Legolas knew he had been fortunate indeed to have gained the friendship of Gimli, son of Gloin.

He snorted silently. There had been times when he rather wished Gimli did not care quite so much for him. These were the occasions when the dwarf declared that some scheme, idea, plan, or activity that the elven prince had decided upon was not to be undertaken under any circumstances.

Gimli had strange ideas over what was 'safe' or 'appropriate' and woe betide any elf who ignored his dictates. That way led to scolded ears and scalded rears.
Arod nickered softly, drawing Legolas back to the present and his mood darkened once more as his keen eyes took in the distant skyline of blackened and twisted trees that marked the southern edge of what men had once called Mirkwood or Taur-e-Ndaedelos- the forest of dread.

His anger grew. After all it was not the fault of the trees that such evil had taken up residence amongst them and poisoned the land and water around Dol Guldar.
In the final battles of the war many trees had been destroyed by fire. It had cleansed much of the evil but now the blackened, charred trunks seemed to call to him, to demand to know why he had not been here to protect them. The urge to take some sort of revenge out on any of Sauron's minions flared again in his heart.

Gimli had warned him several times already over his desire for retribution, and his penchant for taking that revenge against any remaining evil beings without proper thought as to safety. The dwarf understood his need for action, for some release, but he cautioned prudence and sense. 'You cannot take on the whole world alone Laddie. There are times when we must pass by and let others, with more strength in numbers than we, take on the task of ridding this land of foul beasties. We must learn to pick our fights. I did not see you safely through the war to take you home to your Ada injured or worse!'

A pout of quite alarming proportions appeared on the elven face as he recalled these words; he was no child, no novice warrior. He knew his strengths and limitations, and his anger at the damage done to his beloved forest would be paid for in blood by those who had perpetrated it. He would just have to be careful that was all …

There was a loud snort behind him as Gimli woke suddenly, and demanded to know where they were.

"We are almost at the edge of the forest, my sleepy friend."

There was an immediate denial of course. "Sleeping? Nonsense lad, I …"
"You were merely resting your eyes." Legolas finished for him, grinning wickedly as Gimli spluttered loudly.

"Ye cheeky young whelp, for that ye can be the one who goes looking for our supper tonight. Ai but that is a dreadful sight lad," he added as he caught sight of the forest on the horizon. "Your folk must have wept for the loss." He patted Legolas's arm comfortingly, "Yet I don't doubt they have already begun to heal and plant, you'll see things will not be as bad as we fear."

Legolas wanted to believe his friend but his heart wept at the devastation he was seeing as they rode closer.

Blue eyes narrowed as he promised himself that the next nest of Orc, Warg pack, or even spider colony he came across was going to feel the full might of his wrath, dwarven minder, or no dwarven minder.

Gimli's pov

"Where are we?" Gimli sat abruptly upright, startled to sudden wakefulness.
"We are almost at the edge of the forest my sleepy friend."

Sleeping? He certainly had not been asleep. He was bone tired and saddle sore from days upon days of continuous riding. For a certainty his neck was stiff, his back aching, and some parts of him would never be the same again from so much time in the saddle. Dwarves were not cut out for being horseback, but he had endured it since it meant getting his charge home that much faster. Yes Gimli admitted to himself that he was tired, but asleep? Never! He was quick to let the elf know. "Sleeping? Nonsense Lad, I …"

"You were merely resting your eyes," Legolas laughed.

"Ye cheeky young whelp! For that ye can be the one who goes looking for our supper tonight," Gimli feigned irritation, but truthfully he was happy to hear the teasing tones of his elf. It had been too long sinceLegolas had found a reason to smile or laugh over anything.

After the final battle, when victory had finally been realized, there had been much rejoicing. They had conquered the shadow, defeated Sauron. The good residents of Middle Earth would now be able to move forward with a true hope for security and peace. There had been great loss of course, but Arda was resilient and the future had not looked so bright in a very long time. Gimli had another reason for being elated over the victory as well, for now he would be able to fulfil the promise he had made, and bring his elfling home alive and relatively unscathed to his father. Relief had flooded through him once he had realized the worst was over and they could begin the journey home. Gimli had sworn to do his best to look after and care for Legolas and dwarves took oaths very seriously, but fulfilled duty was not the only reason for his joy. He could not pinpoint exactly when or how it had happened, but over time he had grown to care deeply for the lad. He had not said it out loud, but he had actually begun to regard the elf as his own son, so being able to see him safely home was a grand triumph for the dwarf.

It had not been an easy task either, for Legolas had a real penchant for taking extreme risks and endangering himself at every opportunity. The dwarf had truly despaired at times over some of the stunts he had pulled. Often he found himself just closing his eyes and holding his breath as the elf darted precariously about from tree tops or high cliffs or the like. Gimli did not know if all elves were like his particular charge, but he often felt as if he were trying to capture a whirlwind and hold it in his hand. Legolas had some outrageous ideas over what was 'perfectly safe' for him to do, and the dwarf had not always seen eye to eye with him on such issues. At those times Gimli had felt duty bound to step in and put a stop to the madness, sometimes with a fairly heavy hand, especially in the beginning. Later a sharp word or two would usually be enough, and Gimli had congratulated himself when he had once been able to squelch a particularly foolish scheme with only a cleared throat and a raised eyebrow. After all they had been through together, it seemed to Gimli that the ride home should be mostly uneventful. How wrong he had been.

Once the initial excitement of victory had waned and the journey home had begun, the two friends had gotten their first real look at the aftermath of the war. Gimli's heart had sunk as he took in the sights before them. Buildings destroyed, crops ruined, forests charred. Bile had come up into his throat at the sight of the hastily dug graves, many of them with only a smooth pebble or bit of charred wood as a marker, and some of the larger mounds gave evidence of mass burials. The devastation was shocking, and the thought of the tears that had been shed over lost loved ones heart wrenching. Many would not be coming home to be reunited with their friends and families. This thought reminded Gimli that the princeling's father must be nearly insane with worry over the safety of his only child, so he became even more determined to make haste. Besides, he worried over the effect that the evidence of so much carnage was having on the lad. Legolas' mood had grown very sombre and then nearly hostile to the point where the only topic of conversation was about taking revenge on the evil beings that had caused so much horror and destruction.

A few days into their journey, he had found the elf splattered with black blood and ruthlessly stabbing the corpse of a stray orc that he had already tracked down and killed with an arrow. It was then that the dwarf had realized that they were not safely home yet. Legolas' deep need for vengeance could end up getting him killed, even this close to their goal. He proceeded to make it clear that there was to be no more stopping for such distractions. There would be a time for retribution perhaps, but this was not that time. For now they were to make a straight path for home and safety and others could take care of ridding the area of foul creatures. Legolas had tried to argue, but Gimli would not budge from this plan. It seemed to the dwarf that this discussion had been repeated almost hourly since then and his patience was beginning to wear thin.

Now as they approached the southern borders of Eryn Lasgalen, his hope that things would not be so bad here were lost. He scanned the forest's edge and saw very little evidence of anything green and growing. Only the blackened skeletal remains of a once thriving forest as far as the eye could see. He felt nauseated to see it, and knew that what Legolas was feeling must be worse by a hundredfold considering his close ties with this place and his affinity for all living things. To him it would feel very like seeing the burned corpses of old friends. In spite of this, Gimli felt he must remain positive.

"Ai but that is a dreadful sight Lad. Your folk must have wept for the loss," He patted Legolas' arm and tried to sound cheerful, "Yet I don't doubt they have already begun to heal and plant. You'll see things will not be as bad as we fear."

Legolas did not answer but the dwarf perceived a stiffening of his back as they continued on into the forest. They rode along in silence for some time, though Gimli never removed his hand from his friend's arm, lending him his support and strength. The sound of a sharp intake of breath caused him to look in the direction the elf was looking. There he saw the grisly remains of an orc carcass. It was not difficult to determine what had happened here. A pack of orc had stripped their fallen comrade of its gear and left it to the wild beasts of the woods to do with as they pleased. Clear tracks could be seen going all around the corpse and then disappearing into the woods. The most inexperienced of trackers would be able to follow them.

"Are they still in the vicinity, Laddie?" Gimli had come to rely on the elf's keen senses.

"No they are not. They have moved on." Legolas gave his thoughts away by clasping the hilt of the knife he was carrying at his belt, "However it would be the easiest thing in the world to…OW! Gimli!" This said in response to a sharp slap to the side of his thigh.

"There is more where that came from if ye finish that sentence, Elfling!"

"But Elvellon, you must understand! This is my home! They have destroyed our forest! They must be made to pay for this…OW! Could you stop smacking me, Dwarf?" Legolas rubbed his thigh and frowned fiercely at his guardian.

"I will stop as soon as you stop thinking what you are thinking. We have been over this time and again. I have made a commitment to seeing you home safely and that is what we will be doing without being sidetracked at every turn. I refuse to bring you home dead from your own carelessness, but I have no qualms at all with bringing you home sore and sorry. I'm certain your ada would cheer me on, if he knew what you were planning and this close to safety too. Now let's hear no more about such ridiculousness!"

Legolas whirled around and leaned in close to Arod's ear, urging him on at such a pace that Gimli nearly toppled off backwards. Gimli clutched at the elf's tunic and kept his seat, however, as they sped on for several minutes. Gimli ignored this little outburst of temper since he recognized it as being borne of frustration and despair. It did not take long, though, for the dwarf to call a halt. He had been on the back of a horse for way too long already this day and they needed what was left of the daylight to gather what they would need to camp and to hunt for whatever sort of creature could be found living in this desolate woods. Even if he were unable to find anything to shoot for their dinner, Gimli felt it would be well for the elf to make the effort. Perhaps the exercise and the hunt would be helpful in relieving some of his growing resentment. He might be able to blow off a little steam and come back in a better frame of mind. So while Gimli cared for the horse and began setting up their small camp, he sent his elfling off to hunt with a warning to be careful and to behave. And of course he was not to even consider going back to the path where they had seen the orc tracks.

Legolas' pov: 'You are not to even consider going back to the path where we saw the orc tracks,' Legolas mimicked under his breath as he strode off through the blackened trees. As if I am elfling who has no more sense than a fly!"

How could Gimli consider leaving those vile creatures to go free? He had seen the devastation and destruction they had caused. He knew that they were evil incarnate, yet he advised, nay ordered him to 'leave them be'.

The elf's right hand rubbed reflexively against his thigh. It was still smarting even after all this time. It was a reminder to him of Gimli's determination to keep him focused on getting home safely and to do as he was bid and he had first hand- he snorted- make that very first hand experience of what happened when he ignored or defied his guardian.

Of course he wanted to get home, to see his father and the rest of his family, to see for himself the extent of damage done amongst the trees around the stronghold. He wanted to get home so he could do something to make up for his year of absence. Increasingly he was wondering if his skills had been missed, wondering if he had been present would some of this terrible devastation have been avoided.

Standing quite still, Legolas allowed his senses to reach out around him; there were no sounds of rustling leaves, no singing amongst the branches as the wind danced. No birds, no small mammals moving along the forest floor although off to the east he could hear the sound of running water which he decided he would go and investigate next. Perhaps there were still some living things here. To the east he could hear Gimli puttering about setting up their camp. Other than that there was silence. Putting out a hand he laid it against the bark of an oak hoping to find some life still within its blackened twisted trunk there was nothing.

As he walked he tried again with a tall beech and this time was rewarded with the tiniest flicker of life, yet rather than relief the beech sent out a foul stream of vitriol, screaming out its rage at the way it had been abandoned by elven kind and left to suffer and die.

Legolas pulled his hand away, shocked at the hatred he felt, and in that instance his mind was made up. No matter the warning Gimli had given he was going to find and slaughter the Orc who had recently defiled this wood. The beech would have some revenge. Blood would be shed to renew the land.

Yet he must not be incautious. If he was to avoid Gimli finding out what he had been doing he was also going to have to provide food for supper.
It would not do to give the dwarf any opportunity to challenge his lengthy absence by coming back empty handed.

Swift strides took him to the small stream mercifully now clear and wholesome, running down towards the edge of the forest. It was a small sign of the renewal Gimli had talked of, for fresh water was a necessity for other life to begin to return to the shattered forest. Following the stream Legolas saw the first few shoots of green covering the burnt and barren land. It lifted his spirits still further when in shallow pool protected from the worst of the fires he found brown trout and wild shallots growing at the water's edge but this find was not sufficient to cause him to change his mind on his course of action.

It was the work of moments to kill three plump trout for supper and to dig out enough of the roots to add to their meal. He left fish and roots in the cool of the stream and stepped away. He was now going to hunt other creatures altogether.
It did not take him long to find the path the Orc had taken. From the tracks he could discern there were no more than four of them. Obviously they were fleeing northwards to the mountains, to find shelter in the caves there amongst the goblins. Well these four would not find that shelter, he swore silently. They would instead find death here in the woods and their foul carcasses would feed the soil and allow new life to flourish.

It was not long before he caught up with the remaining Orc. They were arguing over the way the dead Orc's armour was to be distributed amongst them it seemed. Their guttural voices carried for some distance and Legolas was able to come quite close, despite the lack of cover from the trees that he would normally have access to.

The foursome were so engrossed in their dispute they did not sense any danger until two of them had been cut down by elven arrows through the heart. The other pair scrabbled for their weapons before rushing towards the elf who stood on the edge of the clearing. His twins knives sang as Legolas took the fight to the duo, one blade cutting off a head neatly while the other stabbed the neck of the remaining Orc.

As he spun and retrieved his knives for one last attack, Legolas felt the sharp sting of a slice on his arm from the Orc's blade. Then he swung his knife, despatching the fourth beast with a clean strike.
In the moments that followed his attack Legolas heard nothing but his own erratic breathing. Slowly he lowered his weapons, relaxing his battle stance.

Having ensured that the Orc were indeed all dead, he carefully wiped his own knives on the edge of the nearest Orc's tattered cloak before re-sheathing them. They would need to be properly cleansed soon but they were fine for now. By the time he had retrieved his arrows the thundering of his heart had eased. They were dead, and he had taken his revenge. Normally he would have disposed of the bodies through fire, but that was not an option given that he wished Gimli to remain in ignorance of his actions.

Legolas looked dispassionately at the dead Orc. Did he, feel remorse for having taken their lives so arbitrarily? He was sure he did not. They deserved death for what they had perpetrated on others. And he would kill again just as quickly and without regret if he had to, yet Gimli's voice echoed in his head warning him not to let battle lust over take him.

"We must not lower ourselves to their level Lad. That is the slippery slope to oblivion and loss of control. We must not become like them in our desire to get revenge."

He felt the satisfaction he had felt at slaughtering such beasts of Sauron slip. Was he truly becoming as they?

Shrugging off such thoughts, he turned on his heel and moved back through the dead and dying trees, retracing his steps until he came to the pool. Here he cleaned his twin knives before turning his attention to his own clothing and hair, which was bespattered with sticky black blood. The light was beginning to fade and he was aware that he had been absent for quite some time so he hurried with his ablutions. Rinsing the blood from his tunic and undershirt and hiding the cut he had received by tugging up his arm bracer to cover the injury, he trusted to the darkness to hide his damp hair and clothing from Gimli's gaze.

As he stepped into the clearing where Gimli had set up their camp, the dwarf looked up and Legolas heard the relief in his voice as he called out. "I was beginning to worry about you Laddie."

Offering a reassuring smile in return he replied, "No need. I found a stream with clean water and a plentiful supply of fish. We will have trout for supper Master dwarf." He held up the fish.

"Trout ye say? Well now that will make a pleasant change and what is that ye have hidden in your other hand?"

Legolas held out the shallots grinning as Gimli clapped his hands together in delight. "A veritable feast indeed. Here now," the dark eyes took in the disheveled appearance and damp clothing, "what have you been about? Never tell me you fell into the stream in pursuit of these trout?"

Legolas shifted uncomfortably, having forgotten how good the dwarf's night sight was. "Nay of course not," Casting around for something to distract Gimli with, he suggested they move the camp to the pool. "For this is a dark and cheerless place and Arod could do with some grazing however little there is."

Gimli seemed uncertain for a moment then said "Aye if ye like. I admit to liking the idea of fresh water to go with this trout."

The move was made swiftly enough, and with setting up a new camp and then the pleasure of eating fresh fish after days of little more than Lembas, Legolas was hopeful that Gimli would forget to inquire how the elf had gotten his wet clothing.

Once the meal was eaten Gimli insisted on taking the first watch. "Get some sleep lamb. Ye look tired to me" he ordered. Legolas for once did not argue for unsure if it was just a reaction to his recent fight or perhaps the fact that he was deceiving his friend, he was feeling somewhat uncomfortable and was happy to roll himself up into his cloak and try to get some sleep.. The fingers of his right hand reached under his bracer to scratch at the cut on his left arm as he did so.