The night wind breezed about the elf as he reclined at the base of the oak tree where the meadow met the wood. Every now and then a glance to the southern sky refreshed his senses as he worked effortlessly on refurbishing one arrow after another. A light tune found its way from his thoughts to his lips and he sang in a gentle elven tongue of the hunter who was seen in the skies, eternally aiming at his mark without ever letting his arrow fly.

Lye cu na thalion

lye pilin na thenid

lye ore na nole

erio ve eleni!

Ai, tirion hrive,

tirion dhu

tegi i faroth

tenn' minya cal.

The Fields of Cormallen were filled with soldiers. At his left rested his friends, who he doubted would wake until long past the sunrise. Some had found weariness not only beyond their years, but more than most could bear over a lifetime, let alone some months. Others had been plunged into their sleep without an opportunity to resist, having finally been released of a burden that would have long since overwhelmed even the strongest.

In the months and days leading up to the final destruction of the Ring, Legolas had learned that it is not always the stronger or best that perseveres, but the truest and bravest, and more importantly, the most loyal.

At the elf's right side rested his bow, which he had restrung just that evening. Battle had taken some toll on his prized weaponry, but now that evil was fastly abating and peace was already being resewn there was time again for maintaining one's "cú a pilindi." As Legolas finished perfecting the last arrow in his quiver he again checked the tautness of his bowstring. He could have sworn that even his bow was more relaxed now than it had been only just... he pushed the thought of those days from his mind, looking upward again. The stars glittering their eternal hope in the night sky were all the comfort he sought. The gentle hand that almost magically appeared on his shoulder served to remind him again that arda really was returning to right.

"Quel dú, Mithrandir," Legolas said in a soft voice.

"Earendil shines tonight, that in itself makes this night good," was the wizard's steady reply.

"When there was a day that i believed i might not behold a star again, even just the sight of one not so majestic would put me at ease."

"Our work is not yet wholly accomplished, Legolas. Though now there is certainly less urgency to our tasks."

"How fare the Hobbits? Do you believe they can be revived?" Legolas questioned in concern for his small friends.

"They fare exceptionally well for two who have scaled Mount Doom. And yes, i am certain that they will reawaken before long, with the help of Aragorn."

That was something else again to think on. For years Legolas had known Aragorn and had known that he was destined for great things. He knew he was the heir of Isildur, even though he had ran from that title for a long time. Still, to Legolas, the transformation Aragorn had finally allowed himself was astounding. To go from your more-than-typically way worn and weather-beaten ranger to King of Gondor and Arnor, resplendent in all that was due him as such, and in just a few weeks... the change was a lot for an elf, used to the slow rhythms of change of the earth for hundreds of years, to take in.

Legolas could not help but look again at his friend, the cloak of Gondor wrapped about him, his tunic bearing the white tree insignia, vambraces fashioned of the Gondorian wings. He had to wonder why Aragorn did not sleep in the tent that was constructed for him as king and victor, but he considered that after many years of foregoing such comforts it was perhaps more restful for him to lay among his loyal friends. Legolas thought for the briefest moment of his own royal status but was saved from further thought on the subject by Gandalf's conversation, for which he was ever-grateful.

As the night breezes subsided and gave way to a gentler morning Legolas's attention was turned to the slopes at the further edge of the field. Morning's light revealed one of the elf's favorite sights, the soft green veil of lace that was laid in and about the trees, the promise of spring's newness. Legolas rose and instinctively walked through the forest which was at his back through the night. There was nothing more beautiful to him than the earliest light of a spring morning spilling through the smallest of the brand new leaves. Every spring was like the first one to him and something he never grew weary of, no matter how many years he had known Middle-earth. He marveled that each thing really did grow a little bigger every day in spring, that every day counted, and that as each sun rose he was surrounded with more and more life. It never ceased to amaze him.

He smiled to himself, shaking his head ever so slightly hearing a crashing through the underbrush. After the last year's worth of jumping to his bow every time a twig snapped, the sound might have sent him into attack had it not been accompanied by a most familiar grumbling. Legolas stood still, deciding to wait for Gimli to find him. He listened bemused to the dwarf's never-changing muttered complaints concerning "elves and their forests! ..."

He could no longer suppress a laugh and gave away his location. Finding him quickly then, Gimli glared as he started off on a well-known tyriad, which Legolas had developed the ability to finish for him. "... But you never tripped over a tree root in Moria!" the elf said with him in a sing-song voice. "Mellon-nin, i can not speak for you, but i would rather trip over a tree root than a balrog."

Gimli chuckled, the experience finally far enough past them to talk about. "Please do not, Legolas, for i might die of laughter if i ever saw an elf stumble over anything in a forest. But come, enough with wandering in these trees. If we are not completely lost in here we must return to camp."

Legolas acquiesced to the dwarf's request, knowing how he detested forestry and was more than likely already regretting his promise to visit Fangorn again with his friend. Though Legolas was determined to enjoy as much of the woodlands as he could before the dwarf dragged him into the glittering caves of Helm's Deep.

"Gimli, Legolas! Tell me not that you are both lost in here," came Aragorn's shouts.

Gimli opened his mouth to call back in reply, but Legolas silenced him as his eyes grew narrow and he peered through the thicket.

"What do you see Leg-"

"Sidh, nogoth!" Legolas spoke in his native tongue, not thinking the dwarf would only be annoyed by it.

"How about talking in a language we all understand for once, stubborn elf!"

Legolas shot a look back at him with a raised brow as if to question who the stubborn one really was but made no verbal reply. Instead he walked with elven vigilance further into the trees.

Aragorn's approach had slowed and, sensing that Legolas had reason not to respond to his call, he drew Andúril. He was not fool enough to believe that just because he had witnessed the fall of Barad-dûr that all evil had ended. He also knew that while leaderless forces of good were almost ineffectual, leaderless forces of evil were almost more dangerous.

"Aragorn! Linte!" Legolas shouted suddenly. The former ranger sprinted toward his friend's call prepared for a skirmish.

Any moment an orc, or pack of orcs, would show themselves he thought as he dashed through the trees. Or was it an orc? Northern Ithilien had not been known to house spiders, but it was not beyond possibility. What other creature of evil might be stirring in these woods? Aragorn's mind raced faster and faster expecting to be set upon at every flinch.

Where were his friends? There was no sign of anything. He began to open up his senses, there was utterly no evil in the air at all. But what caused Legolas's concern? The ranger in him still told him to keep his sword at the ready but he had ceased to run now and went with more purpose. He came at last upon the dwarf in a small clearing. Gimli stood aside looking with a certain confusion at Legolas who was knelt down underneath a blossomed apple tree.

Legolas turned, looking up at Aragorn. It was then that he noticed that Legolas was kneeling beside someone. A lady at that. An elven lady, he saw as he moved nearer.

"She needs athelas, Aragorn, soon," Legolas all but insisted as he rose, lifting her into his arms.

She wore a gown that had once been of a green hue but was now an assortment of mud, blood, and by contrast, tiny white petals that clung to her fair skin and stayed in her flame-red hair. The hem of her gown had obviously been torn a few times to fashion bandages, one of which could be seen not far above her ankle, and her eyes were closed, a matter of serious concern when seen in elves.

Aragorn and Gimli followed as Legolas quickly lead them back to their camp under the beeches. As they came closer to the forest's edge Aragorn asked Gimli to go ahead and see that there was a steaming water in the camp. Aragorn then came beside his friend, but before he could ask the question he had intended Legolas offered the answer.

"I am sure that she still lives, but only just. She needs our help immediately." As they came to the meadow Legolas gently lay her down near the fire where Gimli was busy trying to stoke the flames a little more.

"That fire is fine, Gimli. What i need most now is Elladan and Elrohir. They are at the slopes beyond," Aragorn pointed out what seemed to the dwarf two tiny elven figures far in the distance. He grumbled a bit about not being a handmaid, even to the King of Gondor, but went with speed all the same with a importunate look from Legolas.

"Laiquendeva?" Aragorn questioned Legolas in the more ancient Quenya so as to shroud the question from others.

"She seems so. But what in all of arda would bring a lady to this state? In the middle of Ithilien no less. Where is her escort?" Legolas wondered aloud as he almost instinctively lifted her arm to Aragorn as he cleaned some of her surface wounds, having helped the ranger in the task more times than he cared to admit.

"Three charges. All in the same condition. Two hobbits, one elf." Aragorn shook his head. "I am growing too old for this, mellon-nin."

"Speak not of age, mortal!" said Gandalf thoughtfully, who had returned with Elrond's twin sons, followed by a somewhat slower paced Gimli.

"I will need the wisdom of your age, Gandalf. I will also need my pack, Elrohir, if you will. Elladan, i need you to stay with Frodo and Sam. Do not take your eyes from them, they could wake at any time. Legolas, will you please bring her into my tent? Gimli, bring along that heated water." Aragorn's healer's instincts were beginning to take over as he directed the help he would need to truly put forth his curative power for this unknown elf.

As Legolas set down his light burden on the provisional bed the lady's eyes fluttered slightly, as though she was trying to fight her way from sleep.

"Híril-nin? Man nalye?" Legolas hoped that his question would bring forth a response but not the one he received, a sharp cry of agony as the she-elf woke to her painful senses at the gentle words.

"Sidh, híril-nin, im nev," he said soothingly, taking her hand into his. Her eyes still had not opened as she lay, taking breaths slowly and deeply. Legolas was at least eased to know that she was in a clear enough state of mind to try to will the pain away.

Aragorn entered and set the bowl of steaming water near the bed. He crushed a few athelas leaves into it before setting several new bandages nearby. Legolas knew perfectly the procedure and offered Aragorn one of his knives. Aragorn took it, but instead of asking him to be ready with a cloth to dab away any blood that might be shed from the exposing of the roughly bound wounds, he told Legolas that his help would be more useful outside in the camp.

Legolas's sharp blue eyes gave him a doubtful look and Aragorn saw in them the wood elven warrior's characteristic protectiveness.

"She will be fine, mellon-nin. I will see to that. But please, i am going to have to work alone."

Legolas's only response was a curt nod before he turned quickly and exited. Aragorn knew better than to be offended; after all, he and Legolas had worked together tending whatever wounds needed to be treated through their entire journey. Aragorn understood his sense of responsibility as well, being the one who found her and currently being the only other wood elf this side of Emyn Muil.

Moments after Legolas left, Gandalf entered carrying a small traveling pack. "Aragorn, this was found in the wood. It appears to belong to her, perhaps there is some clue...."

Aragorn looked up with a sigh. "Just set it aside, Gandalf. I am really more concerned with seeing that her life does not slip away than with the contents of that. However, if you should so dearly wish to examine it, you have my leave." The tone of irritation in his voice was not to be passed over. Sighing again he looked at his long time friend apologetically. "Forgive me, meldur, i seem to be turning all my friends to enemies today."

Gandalf's patient smile told him otherwise. "You carry much responsibility, Aragorn. If you are going to be angry with someone, may it be me. I can take all that you can deal."

"Can you deal me that bowl of asëa aranion water?" Aragorn asked with a thankful grin.

As the scent of the athelas filled the tent and permeated the senses of the injured elf her eyes began to flutter again. Gandalf sat nearby as Aragorn did a careful examination of her injuries, making sure there were no breaks. He then cleaned her open wounds again, this time with the athelas, and dressed them properly. This one was going to be fine, his only concern now was what she was doing in Ithilien in such distress. He could also tell that though she was injured and fatigued it was something further that threatened her life, something that would not be so easy for the king to cure as some flesh wounds, nor even the absolute exhaustion of the two little Hobbits who slept under the beeches.

"Gandalf, please ask Legolas to see me here. I want him to watch over her. If anyone can get an answer from her it will be him." He had been softly speaking in Sindarin as he cared for her, but he received no reply, either in word or motion. Gandalf rose and started to leave but Aragorn called to him again. "I know this is going to be a challenge, but, if you can, see if there is something more suitable for this lady to wear. I've had to cut away a great deal of this garment and i can only offer my cloak."

Gandalf laughed sympathetically. "That will indeed be a challenge, few women dwell in Ithilien in these days. I will see what can be found though."

Before Gandalf could leave though, Elladan spoke from without the tent. "Estel, it is i who am your hope this time."

Aragorn glanced quizzically at the wizard, now it was his brother speaking in riddles. "Elladan, show yourself and make clear your speech. You might have jested me with your superiority when i was young, but no more."

Elladan entered, a board smile on his face. "So you say, little brother. But i have in this pack what you seek."

Aragorn's only reaction was a raised brow. Elladan shook his head. "You were much more fun as a child, Estel, you have spent too much time with adar. Will you not even guess?"

" 'Dan..." Aragorn's voice sounded weary.

Elladan sighed. "I was bringing this to give to Arwen when 'Ro and i meet her later." He reached through the pack, bringing forth a long, flowing silver gown embroidered with flowers of blue. He folded it carefully and set it by the fitfully sleeping elf.

Her eyes fluttered again and at Aragorn's request Elladan went out for more boiling water. Gandalf left to keep watch over Sam and Frodo. With Elladan returned Legolas, looking only a little less defensive than when he left. Aragorn ignored his friend's mood though and concentrated on the fresh athelas tincture.

He touched a damp cloth to her cheek, bringing the scent of the athelas near enough for her to inhale. Slowly her eyes began to open in earnest. The pain, Aragorn and Legolas could tell by the glow in her grey eyes, was beginning to subside as she realized that she was not among enemies.

Aragorn smiled to Legolas and spoke in a low voice. "One up, two to go." He pointed the white ash handle of Legolas's knife toward him, returning it. "She is your charge, mellon-nin. As for me, this water must be reheated and a couple of Hobbits taken care of. Speak with her. She would not respond to me, either from restraint of pain or some mistrust of mortals. You may well have more luck than i."

Legolas nodded in agreement. "I owe you an apology, Estel."

"You owe me nothing, mellon-nin, gwador-nin. I have suffered no affront. Just see to her." Aragorn left then to see to the condition of his Shireling friends.

"Man nalye?" a silken, if not strained, elven voice asked a few moments after Aragorn's departure.

"Nan Legolas in Mirkwood."

Legolas did not have opportunity to ask her the same question before she sat up quickly, clutching to her the cloak Aragorn had laid about her.

"Mirkwood? How have i come to Mirkwood?" She demanded as her eyes grew wide with fear. "Am i captive of Thranduil?"

Legolas smiled calmingly. "No longer are any prisoners in Middle-earth. We are not in Mirkwood, but Ithilien of Gondor. I will tell you more later, as much as i am given to tell. This gown is for you to wear. I will be in the camp and you may find me there."

She relaxed considerably and looked at Legolas as he left her alone. Just before he departed she spoke again. "Nan Lómëmir."

"Mae govannen, Lómëmir," Legolas bowed to her before stepping out.

---

*Your bow is strong,

Your arrow is true

Your heart is wise

Rise with the stars!

Oh, guardian of winter

Watcher of night

Lead the hunt

Until first light!

cú a pilindi - bow and arrows

Quel dú, Mithrandir - Good night, Gandalf (used as a greeting)

Earendil - The mariner who sailed west with a silmaril - Elrond's father. The light of his reclaimed silmaril was set in the sky as a star.

Mellon-nin - my friend

Sidh, nogoth - peace, dwarf!

Linte - swift (a calling to hurry)

Laiquendeva - Green-elven

Híril-nin? Man nalye? - My lady? Who art thou?

Sidh, híril-nin, im nev - Peace, my lady, i (am) here.

meldur, - dear friend

asëa aranion - Quenya for athelas

gwador-nin - my brother (usually used as 'brother in arms', rather than blood brother)

Nan Legolas in Mirkwood - I am Legolas of Mirkwood

Nan Lómëmir - I am Lómëmir (Lómëmir translates as Jewel at Dusk)

"Mae govannen - Greetings (welcome, well met, etc)