CHAPTER ONE

Haldir looked up towards the night sky. He frowned. A thick layer of cloud blocked out the light of the stars. He knew long before the clouds appeared that the night would belong to a storm. He could smell it in the air and was expecting it. A storm would not make their task at hand much easier.

He looked towards his companions, standing still as ancient statues reminiscent of times long past. Tuiven, Mallos and Ferion, all hidden beneath the cowls of their grey cloaks, like mere shadows of the young tall trees they stood beside. They had stopped upon a cliff face, overlooking a deep cavernous valley below. The wind came suddenly, a strong torrent pulling their cloaks in every which direction, tearing Haldir's hood away from his head, revealing his face.

A drop of rain hit him, rolling down his cheek, followed by another and another. The storm was now upon them. The night was young. They still had work to do.

Beside him Ferion readied his bow, an arrow was knocked and ready to fire, he fidgeted restlessly.

"They are late, Haldir," he said with a note of anxiety.

"They will be here soon enough."

"Perhaps they passed us. Mayhap we miss judged," Tuiven suggested.

"I did not misjudge," Haldir said confidently.

The worst part of any mission was waiting, waiting for the inevitable battle, for the end to come. The forthcoming storm wasn't the only thing Haldir could smell in the air. For three days now they had been tracking a large band of orcs. Forty strong.

It was folly to attack a band ten times their size, but the orcs had taken a captive. Haldir would not subject anyone to the hands of orcs or their masters. Once he had determined their probable route, Haldir and his companions rushed ahead to meet them in ambush. The time was now upon them.

"They come," he said in a low whisper.

A flash of lightening illuminated their grotesque forms. Their stench was strong, lingering in the air heavily with the added humidity of the summer rain. Haldir searched the band and found the wisp of golden hair he sought before the light vanished, leaving in its place a loud rumble of thunder.

The orc's pace had appeared to have slowed. Orcs were not invincible. They too had travelled hard for four days with no rest, coupled with the added weight of rain soaking into their heavy leather armor. Haldir could tell the orcs were in need of rest.

Haldir looked towards his companions. A flash of lightening illuminated their faces.

"Arrows ready," he said. "We are to time our attack with the next roll of thunder. Leave none alive."

Thunder roared. The four elves loosened their arrows. Taken unawares the orcs fell as arrow after arrow brought them down.

The next flash of lightening confirmed their victory. None were left standing.

Haldir took a minute to gather his companions.

"Tuiven, you shall stay here and give us cover." Tuiven nodded his head solemnly. Haldir did not want to be caught by surprise if a smaller group of orcs had been trailing behind. He knew their tactics all too well.

He led his other two companions swiftly down the hillside. Rain continued to fall, making the ground slick and wet. Oversaturated soil broke loose, sticking to their boots in large clumps. Once they had reached solid ground, the group broke out into a run towards the slaughter site. The air stunk of wet orc.

In the dark of night Haldir searched for that wisp of golden hair. His looked up and down columns of fallen orc, until at last he saw it at last, oft in the distance hidden beneath the body of a large orc.

No, no, Haldir thought, running towards the body, praying they did not wait to ambush the orcs too late. Sliding to his knees he threw the orc off delicate body. Since they had first spied a captive amongst this band of orcs they had known the captive to be of their own kind. He carefully settled the elf so he was lying prone upon his back. His wrists and ankles were tightly bound with crude rope, digging so hard they broke the tender skin, leaving a growing stain of fresh blood on the sleeves of his tunic.

Haldir held his breath as he searched for signs of life. He carefully brushed the pale cheek, shivering at the lingering darkness as a chill ran down his spine. He closed his eyes, fighting not to pull his hand away. He had not felt such a darkness in a very long time. He felt for a pulse and waited. His breath caught in his throat. He is cold as winter's frost.

"Captain?" Mallos softly called, approaching from behind.

Haldir let out a sigh of relief. "He lives."

Mallos knelt beside Haldir and together they carefully cut the bounds from the elf's wrists and ankles, and checked him for further signs injury, to which they found none. He looked so frail, laying there in he mud wet with rain surrounded by the stiff bodies of rotting orcs. Haldir did not recognize the elf, but he had not expected to.

"Where is Ferion?" Haldir asked.

"An orc still lives. Ferion is questioning him."

"I see." Ferion oversteps his bounds.

"He is cold. Tis unnatural," Mallos whispered, brushing a stray hair away from the elf's face.

Haldir unclasped his cloak, placing it over top of the elf. "Take him back to Tuiven and see to his wounds. I shall retrieve Ferion."

Mallos stood with the elf cradled in his arms.

He looks naught but like a child.

Haldir surveyed the battlegrounds. It was a mess. Orcs lay everywhere, their weapons scattered, their blood tainting the ground beneath them. Nothing shall ever grow here again. The land would forever be barren. It sent an unnatural shiver running down his spine. There were situated too close to Dol Guldur for his comfort. He could feel a lingering shadow from the East.

Ferion stood over an orc, with a knife in hand and hands black with orc blood.

"It would tell me nothing," Ferions said, his tone dangerously calm. "I prolonged its death with pain, but still it would not speak."

Haldir frowned. "That is not our way."

"Come," he said. "We shall know more once that elf awakens."

Ferion slowly made to follow Haldir. "We must make for the cover of trees. Soon this valley shall be crawling with more of their kind."

"Then let us stay. We shall take them all down. Herein lies a good vantage point."

"No," Haldir said sharply. He was weary. They still had a long way to travel and now with one injured. Their journey home would not be an easy one. "Those are not our orders," Haldir added softly.

"If we will not fight them who will?" Ferion asked. "Those human villages scattered throughout Rhovanion? Their numbers are too few. They have long lived in peace and have forgotten the dangers of the growing shadow, but evil stirs once again. Can you not feel it? Is this not proof enough?"

"We have orders to gather news and watch. Nothing more," Haldir replied. They would not have stopped for this band of orcs had there not been a captive. "Now come."

Once they had regrouped with the others, Haldir had commanded they seek to the west immediately. "This is no place to linger," he said. "Soon this valley shall be crawling with orcs." It was said the orcs were drawn to the deaths of their own kind. Haldir did not want to wait and see if such rumors played true.

They kept close to the trees, each taking a turn carrying their charge. Mallos and Tuiven had cleaned and bandaged his wrists, and changed him into dry clothing, before wrapping him in Haldir's cloak. The rain had since let up, Haldir did not feel his cloaks' loss as keenly as he would have, though he did feel exposed and open without the weight of it around his shoulders.

They journeyed long into the west till they felt the rising sun warming their backs. Only then did Haldir dare to stop and allow them a reprieve. It was upon the bank of a shallow moving stream that he chose for them to make camp. Haldir would not openly admit it but he was beginning to feel the strains of long hard travel. He was weary; it had been many days since they had last sought rest.

It had been his turn to carry the elf. He gratefully placed him down beneath the protective branches of a large elm.

"Captain, where do you think he is from?" Tuiven asked, settling himself beside the elf.

In the silence of their journey Haldir had thought long and hard about this elf. There were so many unanswered questions. Who was he? Where did he come from? How was he captured? And Why? That was the most important question, Haldir thought, the why. Orcs did not take prisoners. They killed their enemies in battle. So what was so significant about this elf that he was captured and left whole? His only injuries were those where he was bound too tightly. He frowned. They had been uncharacteristically gentle.

"I do not know," Haldir replied. "It is best not to make any assumptions till he awakens and tells us himself."

Tuiven smiled. "His hair is of golden sunlight." He ran his fingers through it. "Tis so soft. He must not have been with the orcs for very long. For that I am grateful."

His hair. Haldir knew that was a clue to the riddle of this elf. Golden hair, a rarity amongst their kind in Arda, few were blessed with such a color. Haldir had his suspicions of this elf, but would not dare speak them aloud. Even amongst trusted companions were enemies where lurking amongst shadows.

"Do not get too attached to him," Haldir warned. "Once we arrive home, he will be placed in the care of Lord Celeborn."

"All the more reason to enjoy looking upon him while he is here," Tuiven replied.

Haldir placed his bow against the tree, and took off his quiver placing it next to it.

"I am to go bathe," he said. "Call upon me should he awaken."

The waters helped to soothe the tension in his muscles, as Haldir washed the filth of travel away from himself. For once there was a break in the clouds. It had been days since he had felt the warmth of the sun upon his skin. In such as short time, how he had come to miss it.

But, now was no time to grow lax. He decided once he was to return to camp he would set watch. He feared they may not have put enough distance between themselves and the danger behind him. Orcs may have an aversion to sunlight, it slowed their movements but they would withstand it need be.

For now though, he felt at peace. Haldir leant forward on a rock. Resting his chin upon his arms, he allowed his eyes to glaze over in the way of rest.

Slowly he blinked his eyes open, allowing them to adjust to the brightness of day. His eyelids felt heavy, he felt weak as if he had overslept. A great elm loomed over top of him, soft rays of sunlight filtered through the branches, welcoming him to wakefulness. Carefully he pulled himself up into a seated position, leaning against the trunk of the elm. He cringed feeling an aching pain in his wrists, and looked with alarm seeing they were wrapped in thick cloth bandages. He had been injured? What happened to me?

Slowly he looked around from left to right. Where am I? Panic began to set in. This tree, this place, he did not recognize it.

Beside him something stirred. He stiffened. His peripheral vision caught a flash of movement. When he turned to look, it had vanished.

"You're awake," a voice called. He jumped at the sound. He could feel his heart thumping rapidly in his chest.

A dark haired elf dressed in a shimmering grey cloak knelt before him. A sense of relief washed over him. He was safe.

"Mallos, go retrieve Haldir. He is at the stream." The dark haired elf turned his attention on him. "Do not be frightened," he said. "You are amongst friends now."

He shivered slightly. The dark haired elf reached over, brushing a warm hand against his cheek.

"You are still cold," he said gravely.

The dark haired elf handed him a water skin. He drank deeply relishing in he feeling of the cool water quenching his parched throat.

"My name is Tuiven," the elf offered as some kind of explanation. "You have been asleep for sometime.

He shivered again. Realizing he was wearing a cloak identical to this elf, he pulled it tightly around himself. We are dressed the same. Do I know him? I must but I do not recall, he thought to himself.

"How are you feeling?" the elf asked kindly.

He looked around. "Where am I?" he asked in response, his voice was nothing more than a soft whisper.

"Dúathnan Pass, East of Lórien, West of Dol Guldur the Fallen City," another elf answered, causing him to jump at the unexpected presence. He had not sensed he approach of another, unless this one had been there all along. So disoriented, he could not tell.

All he knew was he did not know where Dúathnan Pass, East of Lórien, West of Dol Guldur the Fallen City was.

The new elf knelt before him, his gaze was stern and demanding, he felt as though it pierced straight through him.

"This is Haldir, our Captain," Tuiven offered.

"H-how did I get here?" he asked in a wavering voice, the panic starting to set in again.

"We rescued you from the orcs."

"O-orcs."

"You need not worry about them further," Tuiven answered. "That band has been eradicated."

"Could you tell us where you are from?"

"I-" he paused. "I do not know." His heart was pounding so wildly that he was sure Haldir and Tuiven could hear it from where they knelt before him.

The elf Haldir furrowed his brow, his eyes filled with concern.

"Tell me, what is your name?" he softly asked.

"My-my name?" The panic set in full force. He felt his throat constrict as his breath came out in large gasps. "I-I don't know." He placed his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut, as he shook his head back and forth. "I don't know. I don't know who I am."

He couldn't remember a thing. Not his name or his home. He didn't know who he was, where he was or where he was from. All he knew were these stranger in front of him, who apparently didn't know him at all, but still seemed to know a more about him than he did.

"Hey, hey, calm down. It is alright," Tuiven said, placing a warm hand upon his back. "Do not worry. You are safe with us."

He rocked back and forth with the hand comforting rubbing his back. He inhaled the deep scent of the cloak he wore, sandalwood with a hint of lavender. It gave him comfort. He could recognize scents. He could speak. He had memory of simple objects and language. All was not lost. The thought gave him comfort. The only thing he did not know was himself.

He opened his eyes and saw two more elves stood behind Tuiven and Haldir, watching him solemnly. A blush crept upon his cheeks. He was making a show like some errant elfling. He breathed in the scent of the cloak again and willed himself to calm.

"This is Mallos and Ferion," Tuiven introduced. He nodded his head in acknowledgment not lifting his face from the cloak.

He was examined with gentle hands for signs of head trauma, none of which were found. His head did not ache and his vision was clear. He give was given a slice of way bread. Lembas bread they had called it, baked by their Lady. He had never tasted anything like it, he was sure his tongue would have remember such a flavor as his nose ahd remembered certain smells. The bread was plentiful, and he discovered after few bites he was sated.

"Now what are we to do Captain?" Tuiven asked.

The leader looked to him, "We shall rest here. I want a watch set at all times."

"But it is still daylight."

"That makes little difference. I shall take first watch."

"Nay," the elf called Mallos said. "Captain, you always take first watch, and rest less often than the rest of us. I'll take first watch in your place."

"Very well," the Haldir nodded, gathering a lone a bow and quiver leaning against a tree. He climbed into the branches of another, settling himself with the bow resting across his lap.

Tuiven settled back down beside him. He did not think he had the energy to climb up into a tree like the Captain had. He felt himself thankful for the closeness, unsure what dangers lurked out here in daylight. He watched as Mallos gathered his weapons and walked off till he was out of sight, hidden between the mazes of trees.

He allowed his eyes to drift shut, but found no sleep for a long while. He tried to remember something, anything about himself, but his mind was blank, filled with nothing but confusion and sadness.

I am so alone.

He shivered.

He was shaken abruptly awake. He could feel it deep within him, something was approaching them.

Tuiven was at his side, pulling him to his feet before he had fully opened his eyes. He faltered and Tuiven grasped his arm, and pulled him into a run.

"What-"

Tuiven shushed him. "Orcs approach. "

It was nearly nightfall, darkness shrouded around them.

"We cannot outrun them. To the trees, quickly" Some one called.

Within seconds he found himself standing alone. The chill of darkness clung to him. A breeze blew through the night air. He looked frantically from left to right, then up to the branches of the tall tree. He legs felt wobbly and weak from the exertion of standing and running so suddenly. He knew he could not make the climb. His wrists pained him, he had little strength to his arms.

"Come, quickly," Tuiven called. "Grab my hand."

He squinted but could not see him above, nor could he make out the others.

I am alone.

The thought filled him with such despair. He felt he would collapse in on himself. The dark presence around him was smothering. He couldn't move. His hands shook, his heart raced.

Run, run quickly, he heard the shouting in his mind as clearly as he felt the wind upon his face.

The world spun, the trees swirled around him. He felt as though he were falling, and then realized, he did not hit the ground. He felt as though he were flying and realized he was being lifted, pulled up into the tree.

He was sitting high above the ground upon a sturdy branch. Haldir was at his side, grasping him tightly. Weak and without energy, he sagged against the elf in relief. Haldir arranged the cloak so it fit around them both, the shimmering grey threads camouflaging them, becoming one and the same with the tree. He realized it was Haldir's cloak he had been wearing.

He stiffened, hearing the grunts and sounds of orcs running below them. Fear and dread filled him.

"You must relax and stay silent," Haldir said, his voice was barely audible, like a breath of wind against his ear. "Close your eyes. The orcs will soon pass."

He did as he was bid. Closing his eyes he laid his head against Haldir's chest. Breathing in that familiar smoky sandalwood scent, he focused on the steady rhythm of Haldir's heartbeat. Calm and strong, Haldir was unafraid.

He was unsure how long they stayed hidden. He had fallen into a light sleep against the alert Haldir. When Haldir had sensed the danger had passed, he was shaken lightly awake. With aid, he was able to climb down the tree. He landed on shaky legs; Haldir offered his hand, steadying him.

A light wind pulled a bunch of loose leaves from their branches. His gaze thoughtfully trailed them as the falling green leaves spiraled down dancing through the air, fluttering softly towards the ground. A spark of energy surged through him, a flash of brilliant light piercing deeply within the shadowy depths of his mind.

Legolas. A voice said, strong and familiar. He knew the voice but could place who it had belonged to.

"Are you alright?" Haldir asked, watching him closely.

He nodded slowly. He felt stronger, renewed. A leaf, perfect and green landed in the palm of his open hand. He looked towards Haldir, meeting his eyes with confidence.

"Legolas," he repeated. His voice was barely above a delicate whisper; as if saying the word would make the fragile memory disappear again.

Haldir's gaze was questioning.

"My name," he said. "I remember now. My name is Legolas."