Priceless Treasure (19th Mellon Chronicles)

by Mellon Chronicles CS

A generation apart, two adventures become one. While wintering in Mirkwood, Aragorn is taken captive by a bounty hunter with a mysterious objective, leaving Legolas, Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir in a struggle to save the human before its too late. 80 years later, Aragorn is King of Gondor, but the shadows of the past don't lie quietly and he, Legolas and Gimli face another struggle.

2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

XXX

Rae

...

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Dyryn glanced across the fire watching the ranger closely. Outside the cave they sheltered in, the wind howled as another storm began to build. Aragorn was breathing hard, and he shivered uncontrollably where he sat curled into a fetal position against the far wall, but his eyes were clearing and he returned the stare of his captor. Fever-wet hair clung to the sides of his face and fell into his eyes and he brushed his shoulder against his cheek to clear the wayward strands from his vision as he sniffed trying to still his breathing.

"Time for another dose I see." The bounty hunter smiled slightly as he grabbed his knife and the vial of Belithral from his pouch.

As he rounded the fire the human on the floor of the cave tried to scoot farther away from his advance, shaking his head, his eyes filled with fear. The only thing that kept him from evading Dyryn was the fact that the hunter had tied Aragorn's hands to a stake and driven it into the rocky floor.

"No, please." Aragorn shook his head moving back as far as he could, his eyes filling with tears, "No more. I swear I'll stay here, I'll give you no trouble, please...please." His begging tapered off to a mere whisper as Dyryn crouched in front of him, "...please..." Aragorn knew he wouldn't survive another dose of the drug. The hallucinations alone were killing him. If the Belithral didn't stop his heart that was already beating far too fast in his chest, the emotional strain of the lies that the drug was forcing him to live through would. The momentary times of lucidity were too few and too far in between, it was crushing him.

"Please."

Dyryn stopped and watched the shivering man. Even if he had wanted to there was no way he could control the ranger if he didn't keep him on the drug, in fact it would probably be mercy if the doses killed the young man before Mannyn got a hold of him, the bounty hunter thought with a cold smile.

"Sorry." However the look he gave the ranger was anything but sympathetic.

Aragorn shrank from the man as he pushed the ranger's sleeve up high on his arm. The inside of Aragorn's elbow was bruised and red from the continued abuse of the drug. Dyryn picked up his knife and made a tiny prick in the hollow of the man's arm. Quickly he poured the thick drug on a piece of dirtied cloth and pressed the liquid against the wound. The substance bonded with the blood and was carried into his system almost at once.

Fear spiked hotly through Aragorn's awareness. He had minutes before the drug took affect. It tingled where it entered his system and it felt like it was setting his nerves on fire. He gasped and tried to pull away. "I can't..." His breath came in ragged gulps and he began to hyperventilate, "I can't do this again." He stammered between breaths.

"You don't get a choice." Dyryn's voice grated oddly in his ears, loud over the ringing that was a side effect of the Belithral.

"NO!" The ranger pulled against his bonds unfeeling of the pain that laced his wrists as he jerked the stake from the floor of the ground. He had been working for over an hour to free his hands and his attempts finally paid off. The stake popped up from the cold earth and snapped backwards throwing the ranger off balance. He fell back, hitting the wall of the cave behind him.

The outburst from his prisoner took Dyryn off guard, the man should have been sedated far beyond the ability to escape, perhaps he had indeed given him too much Belithral.

The shock of being free caused Aragorn to stop momentarily and stare into the surprised face of his captor. Realizing he had no time to spare he pulled his legs up and kicked out at Dyryn, catching the hunter in the chest and pressing him back.

The wind was knocked out of the bounty hunter and he rolled over, catching himself on his hands trying to force air back into his lungs.

Aragorn lurched to his feet, staggering for the entrance of the cave. He had nearly reached the lip of the short tunnel when Dyryn caught him. The bounty hunter shouted at the retreating form, causing the ranger to turn a startled look his way. With a quick strike Dyryn smashed his fist into the side of the man's head, splitting Aragorn's lip open once more and causing the ranger to reel unsteadily.

The drug in his system had very nearly wrenched control out of Aragorn's grasp once more. Fear alone kept him fighting. His hands were still bound to the spike that Dyryn had held him captive with and he grasped the wooden peg, driving it deep into his tormenter's shoulder as the bounty hunter lunged at him.

Dyryn screamed in pain, pulling back from the unexpected attack. It was all the distraction that Aragorn needed as he turned and fled from the cave into the biting storm that was just beginning to blow. He stumbled in the snow, not caring where he was heading only knowing that he had to get far away. The adrenaline and Belithral prevented him from feeling the stinging bite of the wind and the icy sleet that fell about him.

"Get back here damn it!" He heard Dyryn calling after him as the bounty hunter stumbled into the snow, easily following the erratic path his prisoner wove through the knee-high drifts.

Dyryn quickly caught up with the drugged ranger and tackled him into the snow. The man struggled weakly against the bounty hunter, thrashing beneath his weight as he was pinned down.

"Now come on, get up." He grabbed the rope between Aragorn's fists and hauled the man to his feet, "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Aragorn resisted but he was beginning to forget why he was fighting and the image of the man before him shifted nauseatingly from Dyryn to his father, morphing swiftly into Elladan and then into a distorted picture of Legolas' face.

"No!" He struggled, pulling back from his captor, "NO!"

"Legolas!" Aragorn's voice ripped through the forest as he called out, not knowing if he was even hallucinating or not. He had no hope of being heard he also had no knowledge that the elf was in fact tracking him.

Legolas stopped and stood perfectly still, listening to the wind and the trees and the sounds of the forest around him. He had begun to think he had chosen the wrong path, for there had been nothing all day to give him any indication that anyone had passed this way. Dusk was nearing, and darkness swiftly descending, even though he could not see the onset of night for the storm that was building blocked all and cloaked all in the dull grey of its fury, but he swore above the whistling howl of the wind he had heard his name. Someone was yelling and the sound was coming from just over the next hill. He ran swiftly to the edge of the hollow he was in and crested the small knoll on the opposite side. His keen eyes picked up the shapes of two men struggling below him. The warm glow of a campfire spilled from the mouth of a cave a few yards behind them and a steep cliff dropped away half a dozen meters to their right.

"Father! Please!" The call for help was Strider's. He had found the ranger. Pelting down into the valley the elf's swift quiet approach caught the bounty hunter unaware as he was bodily thrown away from his prisoner.

Aragorn fell back into the snow. The dark shape that loomed over him frightened him and he began to crawl away, knowing only that somehow he was free again. He needed to get far away into the forests where it would be dark soon with the failing light, somewhere safe where he couldn't be seen.

Legolas stared down at the human who lay in the snow, cowering at his feet. He had no time to consol or comfort the ranger as Dyryn rushed him, grabbing the prince about the waist and throwing him hard into the snow beside Aragorn.

The elf struggled with the human that pinned him down. He was stronger than the bounty hunter and easily flipped the man off of him, pulling his feet up to his chest and kicking the man over his head. He stole a quick glance at Aragorn, noting the direction that the ranger was slowly limping away in. He could track him with ease once he disposed of Dyryn.

The bounty hunter had gained his footing once more and quickly withdrew a blade concealed in his boot. "You again! How many times do I have to kill you elf?" he spat, circling the prince slowly, dancing closely in and jabbing the weapon forward, feinting at Legolas, trying to catch him off guard. But the elf was too fast for the man, even though Dyryn's dwarvish traits made him a more formidable foe than a normal human would have been. The prince's anger flared and he crouched down, widening his stance refusing to dance with the man any longer. Dyryn jumped forward and the prince rushed him, sidestepping the man and hooking his ankle around the hunter's leg, he tipped the human backwards off balance, wresting the knife from Dyryn's grip as the man fell back into the snow. Kneeling on the man's chest Legolas pressed the blade against the hunter's neck and glared down at the man. Even after everything this fellow had put he and Aragorn through, the elf would not spill blood needlessly, nor would he cut a man's throat when he was down and defenseless.

"Do not follow me. And do not pursue the ranger. I will kill you if you persist." He leaned down, whispering the words fiercely and giving the knife a good shove, so that it broke through the human's skin.

A peal of thunder broke above them shaking the mountain that braced the small valley where they fought as the storm gained strength. Surprised by the reverberations of the sound Legolas glanced up.

Dyryn took advantage of the elf's momentary distraction. Grabbing the blade he pulled the knife from this throat with one had and slammed his balled up fist into the side of the prince's head, knocking Legolas off of him and back into the snow. The hit was a lucky near miss, barely contacting that point behind Legolas' jaw that would have caused the elf to black out. As it was, the blow stunned the prince and he stumbled back to his knees when he tried to rise.

Dyryn stood over the elf, smiling down at him with barely contained glee.

"Now who is going to kill whom?" he taunted, raising the blade over the reeling prince.

The ground shook slightly beneath their feet and a dull distant roar overshadowed the natural sounds of the forest about them.

The rumbling in the earth increased and Dyryn staggered backwards, attempting to maintain his balance. The rushing sound built into a deafening roar and Legolas glanced behind the bounty hunter in wide-eyed fear as he saw the face of the mountain behind them fall down towards the small plateau where they fought in a tumbling tidal-wave of white. The percussion of the thunder had triggered an avalanche high up on the peak where the snow had been accumulating, awaiting just such relief as this.

Legolas leapt to his feet; lighting softly on the top of the snow and darting towards the woods in the direction that Aragorn had drug himself off in earlier.

Dyryn, not so quick or light-footed, tried to follow the nimble being, but was cumbered by trying to run through the deep snow and was caught by the front wave of snow and debris that swept off the mountain side plummeting to the base of the cliff below. Legolas heard him screaming, his voice barely audible above the rushing swell of snow that crushed down behind him and turned just barely in time to see the man vanish.

The ground beneath the prince jumped and bucked with the force of the tonnage that spilled down from the peak. Only his ability to stay atop the snow kept him from being pulled under and swept away as Dyryn had been, but it would not save him forever, the snow was moving too fast under his feet and he could not remain upright much longer. At the last moment, Legolas sprang from the forest floor into the tree nearest him, pulling himself high up into its branches as the edges of the white flood crashed by and then receded at the base of the trunk. He had barely escaped the avalanche.

Legolas slowly let out the breath he had been holding and glanced back across the plain where they had just been. It lay covered in a blanket of snow, the surface broken by the jutting planes of frozen plates of ice and rocks ripped from their resting places and thrown down the side of the mountain. The cave that Aragorn and Dyryn had taken shelter in was buried under dozens of feet of snow. Of the bounty hunter there was no sign.

Legolas leapt lightly down from the tree he had taken refuge in and picked his way carefully to the edge of the newly displaced snow, it lay in ripples like frozen waves, strewn beneath the tall trees.

From there, he quickly picked up Aragorn's trail and tracked the ranger back into the forest. He needed to find the human fast, night was nearly upon them and there would be no starlight to guide them soon. He had run only a few moments before spying the form of the man now slowly crawling on hands and knees in the deep snow.

Aragorn flinched and cried out at the sight of the being who had caught up to him as Legolas gained his position and knelt down next to him.

"No!" He raised his hands up trying to shield himself from the images that swam before his eyes.

Gently Legolas gripped the rope that bound the man's hands and quickly severed the bonds. The human whimpered softly when the elf produced the knife and he cringed away from the glint of the blade. "No." His voice a mere whisper. "Please, not again."

"Aragorn?" Legolas slowly resheathed his knife, "Aragorn what happened to you?" He noted the way the human shook uncontrollably, shaking that had nothing to do with the chill that hung in the air.

The ranger was unresponsive to the elf's attempts to stop his flight. The human continued moving away from the prince, pushing the other away. Nothing he said made any sense to the prince. It seemed to Legolas that Aragorn did not even know who he was and nothing he did stopped the human's weak frantic attempts to escape him.

"Aragorn? Aragorn!" Legolas shook his friend, desperately demanding an answer. The young ranger's eyes were glazed and when he looked at the elf he didn't seem to really be seeing him. Aragorn flinched in fear and tried weakly to scoot away, fumbling in the snow and shivering hard as he scrabbled backwards, frozen fingers barely feeling the wet bite of the ice-cold powder he was sitting in.

"L-Leave me alone... p-please just l-leave me alone..." Aragorn begged stuttering through frozen lips, total un-recognition on his face. That last bit of exertion had taken too much out of the ranger. His body was fast succumbing to the cold and the severe drug reaction that had been building up over time. Dyryn had used the Belithral on him far too frequently and in doses far larger than he should have. Aragorn's reaction to the modified poison had been growing slowly worse and worse until now it was very literally robbing him of rational thought and reason.

"Aragorn, it's all right, it's all right!" Legolas struggled to catch the young human's shoulders. Frightened and irrational, Aragorn fought the elf. His frozen, confused mind could not comprehend that Legolas was not Dyryn as his vision blurred, the sound of the elf's words grating oddly in ringing ears. Striking out he caught Legolas in the chest and mouth with his wildly swinging fists.

Legolas reeled back from the unexpected blow, tasting blood and realizing quickly that Aragorn was not in his right state of mind. Gently catching the human's wrists he held them still, keeping the young ranger from striking him again.

Aragorn thrashed and struggled, but was too weak to put up a real fight and Legolas pinned him on his back in the snow easily enough.

"Aragorn, Aragorn it's me! It's Legolas. It's all right, it's all right..." Legolas tried to get through to the struggling human. Aragorn's eyes were wide and frightened in a way Legolas had never seen them before. Half-frozen, half-dried blood clung to the corners of the ranger's mouth and the side of his face. Dark bruises marred his face, neck and hands and Legolas was sure the ranger's wet, frozen clothing hid even more. The young man looked as if he had very literally been through hell and Legolas' heart wrenched inside him. If Dyryn were still alive Legolas would have killed him for what he had done to his friend.

Aragorn squirmed and shivered weakly under the elf's grip. "P-please... not again... please leave me alone..." the young ranger stuttered brokenly, shuddering from cold and fear.

Legolas' eyes stung from more than the wind. "Aragorn, Aragorn... Estel..." he pleaded for Aragorn to understand him, speaking in elvish for he knew that sometimes that tongue had a greater effect on his friend than the speech of men. "You have nothing to fear from me my friend, your tormentor is gone. Do you hear me Aragorn? He is gone! Come back to me, come back Estel... please..."

Aragorn blinked several times and took a deep shuddering breath. Something about the elvish words seemed to calm him, just as Legolas had hoped. His blurry eyes struggled to make out the face above him through the driving wind.

"L-Legolas?" Aragorn murmured, dim recognition finally coming over his face. He was half afraid to believe it was truly his friend this time and not just another drug induced hallucination.

Legolas smiled, gently warming the side of his friend's pale face with his hand. "Yes, yes Aragorn, it's me."

Aragorn let his head sink back in the snow in relief. "I-I thought y-you'd never f-find me..." He shakily reached up towards his friend.

"I'm sorry it took so long, I'm sorry Strider," Legolas rose, gently pulling the young human out of the snow. Aragorn was much too weak and far too frozen. They had to get out of this weather and soon. But where could they go?

Aragorn wavered on his feet. His strength was completely gone and his head fell weakly against Legolas' shoulder.

Legolas quickly pulled his own cloak off and wrapped it around Aragorn's shivering shoulders, supporting the young man. "We have to get to shelter Aragorn, all right?" he said gently. "Can you walk?"

Aragorn nodded. "O-of course I-I can..." he took one step and nearly fell back into the snow. His frozen, bruised legs refusing to carry him any farther.

"That's what I thought," Legolas said with a soft smile. Scooping Aragorn up in his arms despite the ranger's feeble protests, Legolas half-held, half-shouldered his friend's weight and began descending from the foothills, heading in what he hoped was more or less a westerly direction.

Legolas stumbled, Aragorn's weight driving him down into the snow he had been walking on top of until he fell. Quickly he scrambled back to his feet. He had been carrying Aragorn for the better part of two hours, but the storm had slowly been picking up and the roaring wind was blowing full at them, blinding him behind its vicious white curtain.

Aragorn was chattering audibly and his skin was far too pale. One glance at the human's ashen face, and Legolas knew that they had to get out of the wind now, or nothing would be able to help his friend.

Desperately his keen eyes searched the swirling whiteness for some sign of anything that might shelter them. Suddenly, the ground failed under his feet and Legolas found himself half-falling, half-sliding downward in a tumble of snow and wind.

The blizzard was so thick now that the elf had not even been able to see that he had come to a cliff edge and walked right off it. Fortunately the cliff was only ten or fifteen feet high at most, and the snow at the bottom padded their landing.

The bottom of the cliff was minimally protected from some of the worst of the eddying blasts of wind, so Legolas scooted back against the rock wall as far as he could, pulling Aragorn with him. Any shelter was better than none, and going further when he could not see more than two or three inches in front of them was obviously a dangerous proposition, especially since Legolas knew absolutely nothing about the lay of the land in these parts. They would have to wait the storm out and hope that it lessened quickly.

"I-I'm so-so cold..." Aragorn shivered helplessly, delirium starting to tug at him again. The young ranger was totally spent and the drugs that were still in his system had not let go of him yet wreaking havoc with his ability to stay awake.

"I know, I know you are," Legolas soothed, pulling Aragorn closer still. The young ranger's shaking frame was icy cold against the elf's body. It felt as cold as the storm, or colder. His exposed skin was nearly the same color as the snow. Alarmed, Legolas pulled off his fleece-lined jerkin. Ignoring the stinging cold as it bit through his tunic he wrapped the thick shirt around Aragorn's shoulders, pulling it up to cover the Dùnadan's head and holding the human close to himself to better share his body heat. "Just hold on, everything's going to be all right. Stay with me Strider."

Legolas shivered slightly against the chill that invaded his own frame, both from Aragorn's frozen body and the freezing air around them. Even an elf was not immune to the bitter bite of the air this night. It was simply too cold.

"L-Legolas I-I can't see you..." Aragorn's eyes were glassing over again.

More alarmed than he wanted to admit, Legolas tried to stay calm for his friend's sake. "That's all right, you can hear me. I am here. The storm cannot last forever. It will all be over soon, I promise Aragorn, I promise."

Aragorn shuddered violently, grasping for his friend's arm with numb, unbending fingers. "D-don't leave me... please, don't leave me like t-they did..." a raw sob choked the young man's throat as he slid back into the dream-like state between reality and feverish nightmare.

Legolas pressed his eyes shut in anguish for his friend's pain. He pulled Aragorn's head up against his chest so the young man could hear his heartbeat and know he was near. "I am here Aragorn and I won't leave. That I swear by Elbereth herself. I will not leave you!"

"I'm so tired... so tired... I feel I could s-sleep forever..." Aragorn murmured into Legolas' tunic.

Aragorn's body was failing him at last and Legolas realized horribly that his friend was dying in front of his eyes.

"No! Aragorn, Aragorn! Stay with me! Dartho Aragorn, Dartho mellon nîn, ú-awartha i arad, an i tinnu, egor pada i guruthos nîf-ned anannch lîn... bellch le, iston le, pulch ortheri sen gala helch le, ú-dâf ha mânch haeron!" Legolas pleaded desperately, gently rocking the young man. "Hold on Aragorn, hold on my friend, do not forsake the day for the twilight, nor tread the shadows before your time... You are strong, I know you are, you can beat this creeping frost, do not let it take you away!"

"D-don't leave..." Aragorn whimpered hoarsely, locked once more in his own private nightmares that Legolas could not seem to break into nor free him from. "Don't leave me, please... I'm sorry... please... father... father! Don't l-leave me again... no...no..." the words were mere heartbroken sobs. "I'm so c-cold, s-so c-co..."

Frustrated by his powerlessness to help his friend, Legolas tried his best to calm the ranger, but to no avail. Aragorn was too far gone to hear him. It seemed now that the young Dùnadan had no will left to live, as if the hallucinations had drained him of whatever hope and desire for life had been left in his frozen, hurting body.

Aragorn murmured something more, but Legolas could barely hear, much less understand him, for the young man was sliding too far away. The human's eyes closed and his head lolled against the elf prince's chest.

Legolas choked back the lump forming in his throat and held his friend tightly. Closing his eyes he held onto Aragorn with everything he had. He was not strongly gifted in healing, nor in those skills that humans and hobbits sometimes referred to as 'elf magic', but whatever power was in him he used in the desperate struggle to keep Aragorn from sliding over the brink into the abyss from which a mortal could never return.

Whispering words of light, life and encouragement, warm fires and sun on the springtime flowers into Aragorn's ear, the elf prince gave everything he had to the effort. If it were possible, he fed some of his own strength into the ranger's failing body, infusing hope and a certain amount of warmth from his presence and his words.

Aragorn stirred ever so slightly and Legolas took it as a hopeful sign. Softly, he began singing to the ranger in a sweet, clear voice. A warm and life-filled song full of the images of light and warmth and home. Aragorn barely seemed to notice or respond, but Legolas kept on, hoping to be able to give the young ranger something to hold onto, however slim, some connection with the waking world so that his spirit would not completely fly away as it seemed wont to do.

The elven voice thrummed softly in his chest as he sung, a comforting resonance that sounded in the ranger's ear, pressed against the prince's heart. And somewhere deep inside his delirious stupor, Aragorn did indeed hear Legolas' song and feel the thin thread of warmth and hope that the elf prince sought to hold out to him, and Aragorn clung to it tightly as oblivion reached up to swallow him whole. But his life was slowly slipping away between his fingers, blown off upon on the savage winds that raged around them, whipping the young ranger's dark curls around his face and mingling them with the pale gold of Legolas' waving locks.

Legolas committed all his strength and everything that was in him to his song and the young man it was supporting. So intent was he that the elf did not notice the creeping chill overtaking his own body as the deadly cold seeped into him little by little, sapping his strength, his energy, his life.

Around them, the storm just kept growing fiercer and more intense.

...80 years later...

"My father will not let you get away with this." Eldarion struggled helplessly against his captors as they pulled his bound hands above his head, throwing the rope over a root that protruded from the rock face several feet above the young man's head. The rope fell back down and the prince was jerked harshly up, his feet barely touching the ground. A small cry escaped his lips as the men around him roughly tied the rope off.

Dyryn had brought Eldarion to an open glade that butted up against a rocky cliff. The trees formed a semi circle around the small indention in the forest, where nothing but the valley grasses grew. The rocky incline at the back of the shallow stretched a good fifty feet, creating a natural barrier not only for the plant life that flourished in the shadow of the mountain but for anyone who might try to use the cover of the trees to reach the boy tied against the rock face.

Dyryn had found the hollowed out bowl and seen in it the perfect place to set a trap. Not more than a mile away from where the King and his party had bedded down for the night. The bounty hunter had made sure that it would be easy enough to track the young boy back to this very spot. Now they worked quickly to ready the snare for the ones who would follow.

Kolir, smiled and slapped the young man across the face, "Don't worry, we're counting on your father to come looking for you." He grabbed the prince's jaw and twisted the youth's head to the side, where Dyryn was mounting a crossbow on top of an old stump, just to the left of where Eldarion was bound, hidden back in the trees. The old hunter strapped the weapon down to the dead wood and locked the drawstring in place, laying a bolt across the readied bow.

Kolir released the prince's face and pulled his dagger from its sheath on his belt, running the blade's edge lightly down the side of the boy's face. He traced the curve of Eldarion's neck, dragging the tip down across the prince's chest and deftly cutting the first button off of his tunic. He pressed the tip of the knife against the soft skin above Eldarion's heart, causing the boy to cry out as he cut a small 'x' across the boy's chest. Leaning in close and laying his face next to the young man's, he whispered, "And that's where the other one is going to hit," Kolir motioned across the small glen to where another crossbow was being readied, pointing straight for Eldarion's heart, "but only after the first one kills your father."

"Kolir shut your mouth and finish up there." Dyryn growled at his accomplice. "Help Vec cover up those trip wires. Can't have that ranger wise to us until it's too late." The old bounty hunter finished setting the second crossbow, bending down to make sure the bolt was lined up with the boy's heart. His features were hidden by the hooded cloak he constantly wore, and Eldarion had yet to discover who he truly was.

There was no more time for questions as Kolir pressed a piece of wadded-up cloth into the boy's mouth and tied it off there with another strip of fabric. He slammed the boy's head forcefully back against the rock behind him, causing stars to dance before the prince's eyes. Tears of helplessness and fear edged the rims of his wide blue eyes as Kolir tightened the bonds at his ankles and coiled another length of rope around the boy's thighs, pinning him in place.

Eldarion pressed his eyes shut, unwilling to allow these men to see him cry. He wanted nothing more than to be back with his father but knowing what he did, he prayed his father would never find him, ever. His breathing hitched slightly and Kolir smirked at him, ruffling the youth's hair as he walked away, "What? This will be fun." He taunted the boy.

Eldarion jerked way from the man, but the laughter of his captors bit deeply into his heart. He watched in horror as the trap was set for his father. Kolir and Vec finished disguising the trip wires that would fire the crossbows and Eldarion doubted if even Legolas would be able to tell that they were there. Dyryn camouflaged the crossbows, making sure that the tree branches would not block or deflect the bolts. With a satisfied smile he left the glade, completely ignoring the child on the far side who leaned against his bonds in defeat. Tears slid down his fair face now that he was alone and the gag made it hard to breathe. Rain began to fall gently in the glen, the storm clouds finally having enough of carrying their weighty load had decided to stop and shed their burden. The grey skies reflected the dark thoughts in the young man's heart as he waited and hoped he would never be found.

Legolas walked soundlessly in front of Aragorn. The tell-tale signs of the kidnapper's flight were easily read in the crushed plant life and the heavy prints in the soft ground made by their boots. They had made no attempt to cover their escape and the smears of bright red on the leaves of the lower-hanging trees created a mounting dread in the elf.

"They do not hide their passing." Legolas turned back towards the human that trailed him, "I fear what we will find."

Aragorn's silver eyes flashed darkly and he only nodded in reply.

It had started to rain moments ago, the droplets barely making it to the forest floor. They had walked nearly a mile in the predawn gloom and now the storm darkened their path again.

Legolas stopped, pressing his arm straight out from his side to stop Aragorn. There were no sounds of life in this part of the woods and unnatural unease crept over the friends. The elf crouched down in the path where they stood, pulling Aragorn down beside him. He waited quietly, listening, smelling their surroundings, waiting.

A soft whimper touched their ears, more a sob than a cry. But it was enough to send Aragorn lurching forward. Legolas grabbed the human and pulled him back, fighting the fierce desperation that tore at the man's heart.

Aragorn turned, pointing back in the direction he had been heading while grasping the elf's cloak desperately with his other hand. They communicated without speech, a language developed over years of hunting and wilderness survival together.

Legolas shook his head vigorously, pointing at his own eyes with his fingertips. He indicated with a sharp downward motion that he wanted Aragorn to remain while he went and took a look around. The king would not agree, touching his ears and pointing back to where the sounds had originated from.

The elf forcefully jerked the human off his feet and firmly planted the king behind him. Removing his elven dagger from his boot he held the flat of it against the man's neck, pressing his face close to his friends. It was a warning of the most severe kind. He did not want the human to follow him. Dark, angry eyes held his and did not give in.

"Stay." Legolas barely whispered in elvish. When Aragorn did not answer the elf stepped away and walked toward the hidden glade. He turned a few paces out and pointed the dagger back at his friend for emphasis. In resignation Aragorn stepped near the closest tree and crouched down at the base of the pine. Legolas nodded and disappeared into the forest.

The elf stepped cautiously up to the perimeter of the small glen, his heart catching in his throat when his eyes fixed on the young boy across the way. The young prince's head hung down in defeat and he leaned against his bonds, rain dripped from his forlorn form and pooled in the grass at his feet. The front of his wet tunic was stained red with blood that the rain was washing down from the cut Kolir had given him, making it impossible to tell from this angle exactly where, or how badly the young prince had been hurt. The boy's breathing hitched as he tried to calm himself but to no avail. Legolas waited on the edge of the meadow... waited and watched. He could see no snares or traps. It seemed for all purposes that Eldarion had been strung up here and simply left, but he knew it could not be so. He remembered Dyryn, remembered the man's brutality and cunning, his instincts told him there was more to this than he could see.

The snap of a twig caused the elf to swivel, the blade in his hand coming up automatically. He breathed a sigh of relief and frustration as Aragorn crept up to his position.

The easily read tracks of Dyryn and his men led to this very point in the forest and the human had followed them to his friend.

Legolas tried to press Aragorn back, he did not want the man rushing into the glen just yet but the elf knew that if he caught a glimpse of Eldarion there would be no stopping him.

True enough, the king's eyes lighted on his son across the way. The utter sorrow and horror that touched them went straight through the elf's heart.

"Wait." Legolas touched Aragorn's chest gently with his fingers. "It is not right."

"Legolas!" The man whispered desperately at his friend. Eldarion choked back a sob, the gag preventing him from swallowing properly. The soft whimper was all it took to send the boy's father past all reason and into harm's way. Not even the warning of his lifelong friend could override the protective anger in his heart that drove him forward.

Eldarion looked up as the movement caught his attention. His eyes went wide and he shook his head vehemently, desperately trying to speak around the gag and warn his father, but it was no use.

Aragorn quickly crossed the threshold of the meadow. Reaching for his sword as he stepped onto the slick wet grass. His boots snared a thin line hidden in the green blades. The tiny snick of the cut wires was undetected by the human, whose eyes were locked on the horrified ones of his son. The triggers of the snare, having been severed, snaked wildly through the long grass, released from their tension, as were the bowstrings on the weapons that they had been tied to.

"Aragorn!" Legolas saw and heard the danger the moment before it happened. The two rigged crossbows fired at nearly the same time, but not quite.

Aragorn realized the peril a few moments too late to avoid it. Often people say time seems to slow at an instant such as that, but it was not so for Aragorn because everything seemed to him to happen much too fast.

Before Aragorn even had a chance to finish registering the threat, the king felt Legolas' body slam into him, pushing him sideways, out of the path of the deadly bolt.

Only his elven speed and reflexes got Legolas to his friend's side before the shot went through the human's heart, but not even they could get the elf out of the way in time as well.

The bolt meant for Aragorn struck Legolas in the back, near his left shoulder blade, whirling the prince partway round and making him stumble from the force of the heavy poundage-per-inch that the crossbows possessed.

The spin placed Legolas directly in the path of the second shot, meant for Eldarion, from the other side of the glade. Closer at hand than the first, this bolt had even more power behind it.

Falling to his knees from the force of Legolas' shove, Aragorn saw what unfolded in a split instant of sheer horror. Legolas turned and stumbled under the impact of the shot meant for him and almost immediately was caught by the second shot as well. The bolt intended for Eldarion struck the elf prince directly in the chest.

Aragorn thought he must have screamed his friend's name, but he could not remember afterwards. What he did remember was the wide-eyed look on the elf's face and hearing Legolas' cry of shock and pain as the prince stumbled forward, clutching his chest numbly and not really seeming to understand yet what had happened.

Legolas sunk slowly to the muddy earth, a look of semi-shock frozen on his fair features.

"Legolas!" Aragorn caught the elf prince before he hit the ground. Bright red blood covered the king's hands as he knelt, holding Legolas gently in his arms. His shaking fingers caught on the ugly, dark shaft of the crossbow bolt protruding from the back of the elf's left shoulder and he quickly shifted his hold so as not to aggravate the wound. There was no sign of the bolt that had hit the prince in the chest; the smooth shaft had gone straight through, leaving only the swiftly growing crimson stain that was rapidly soaking the front of Legolas' pale green-brown tunic.

The shoulder wound was bad, but Aragorn feared that the chest wound was going to be deadly. It was far too near Legolas' heart for comfort, even though it had apparently missed hitting it directly. The elf prince's eyes were glazed and his body trembled as if he were cold.

"Legolas!" Aragorn whispered again in horrified alarm. The chill rain pattered down on them, spreading the bloodstains larger and plastering the prince's golden hair against his pale face.

"A-Aragorn... are you... all right?" Legolas forced his eyes to focus slowly on his friend. He choked slightly on the words. Cold, icy pain was radiating from his wounds and his body responded sluggishly to his commands. He was frightened, but not terrified. Death was a novel concept to elves, although Legolas had certainly seen his share of it. Confused thoughts jumbled through his mind and he wasn't sure what to make of them all. The pain faded in and out like the gusts of wind, sometime disappearing all together... Aragorn's arms tightened desperately around the elf, bringing the prince back to the moment, and the pain. He moaned softly.

Aragorn knew that they were not safe. Whatever trap they had stepped into was surely closing fast if indeed it had not already snapped shut around them, but Legolas could not be moved and he feared that if he so much as released him for an instant, the light would leave the elf's eyes forever and an immortal spirit would disappear into a night it should not have had to taste.

"I'm all right Legolas," Aragorn choked on the lump in his throat. "But you had better not dare try to tell me you are 'just fine' this time..." he could not finish the old jest, his throat swelled shut and his voice refused to work.

Legolas smiled faintly. "No... no I think not this time..." he coughed. The elf seemed to be having trouble breathing and shuddered softly in Aragorn's arms. "E-Eldarion?" he questioned somewhat apprehensively.

"He's fine too," Aragorn assured gently. "Don't worry about us Legolas..." he resisted the urge to say Legolas should not have done what he did, the former ranger knew his old friend far too well for that. Aragorn realized that he was also trembling as he held Legolas close to him, pressing the corner of his damp cloak against the heavily bleeding wound just to the right of the elf's heart, trying desperately to bring it under control. He saw the numb, dazed pain on Legolas' face and felt as if the arrow had gone through his own soul.

As it should have.

Every beat of his breaking heart told him that it should be him, not Legolas. Those arrows were meant for he and Eldarion, not the elf... but it was his friend who was dying.

Legolas' breath caught as the pain made his chest muscles seize up around his diaphragm. Remarkably, his lungs had not been punctured, but his breathing was difficult all the same. Aragorn tried to ease him into a better position, but Legolas cried out softly at being moved. The pain was building again. His hands trembled as he wrapped his long, bloodstained fingers in Aragorn's cloak, holding onto his friend like he was holding onto life itself. A chill that had nothing to do with the icy rain was creeping over his body. "It's getting c-cold..." Legolas murmured, fighting hard against the pain that wanted to overwhelm him.

The same fearful ice seemed to have entered into Aragorn's veins as he held his friend close. But there was little he could do to assuage the frost creeping over Legolas. Tears stung the king's eyes, hidden by the rain. He did not want to have to helplessly watch Legolas die in his arms as he had watched Boromir die, as he had watched Haldir die, as he had seen too many both mortal and immortal perish during the long course of his life.

"Dartho Legolas, Dartho mellon nîn, ú-awartha i arad, an i tinnu, egor pada i guruthos nîf-ned anannch lîn... Aragorn pleaded quietly. "Hold on Legolas, hold on my friend, do not forsake the day for the twilight, nor tread the shadows before your time..." his throat constricted again and he could not finish.

Legolas smiled weakly, remembering the last time those words had been spoken. Remembering all that he and Aragorn had done together over the course of their long friendship, both the brave and the foolish, the serious and the joyful... "Edhored nin, forgive me Estel," his voice wavered unsteadily, speaking was difficult. "I-I don't know if this creeping chill is one that can be conquered, my friend. I fear it is too strong this time..."

"No," Aragorn whispered his denial. "You never gave up on me ever. I won't let you go, not now, not like this!"

"Touching. So touching," A hard, sardonic voice startled them and made the king look up.

Aragorn's burning eyes fell upon the man standing before them and blazed as if he would like to kill the fellow with the intensity of his gaze. The man was tall and swarthy, a cocked cross-bow was in his hands, leveled squarely with Aragorn's chest. Three other men stood behind him, similarly armed, although at least two of them had their crossbows trained on Eldarion. The meaning was clear. If Aragorn tried anything, his son died first.

"Friendship is such a sweet thing to see," the man who had spoken before continued mockingly. A loosely wrapped headdress kept all save his eyes hidden from sight, but Aragorn didn't need to see his face. He knew the voice well enough. The voice etched into the deepest lines of his worst nightmares. The voice that taunted and laughed at him when he was helpless and hallucinating, dying of cold in the frostbitten mountains...

"Dyryn," Aragorn said between his teeth. The anger in his chest was so hot that it was a wonder it did not radiate outward and turn the rain to steam as it touched him. Clutching Legolas to him tighter, he moved slightly, putting himself between Eldarion and this ancient enemy from the long distant past.

"You remember me ranger. How nice. I suppose it would be bad taste to leave someone for dead and then forget all about them," Dyryn sneered. "Although I wager that's exactly what you did, your *highness*." The man's ruthless gaze shifted to Legolas. "It's fitting that you should both be here. The two who cost me so much." In truth, Dyryn's plans had only involved Aragorn and his son, but the elf had chosen to intrude and get in the way, just as he had so many years ago, and so Dyryn was given a new opportunity now. One that he rather relished the thought of.

"Speechless?" Dyryn grinned. "But then, why not? I suppose you never expected to see me again, alive." With one swift move he unhooked the veil that hid his face.

Next to him, Aragorn heard Eldarion give a small gasp around the gag on his mouth.

Dyryn's face was so hideously twisted that not even Aragorn recognized him now. Wide, ugly scars crisscrossed it like vines crawling up the side of a building and the skin pinched and puckered in a grotesque manner.

"Well you may gasp boy," Dyryn glared at Eldarion. "It's not a pretty sight, is it? Know then, that this is what your father did to me!" his burning eyes turned back on Aragorn. "You abandoned me buried alive in the middle of that storm! This, this!" he held up his left hand, it was malformed, clenched in a perpetual fist. "This I lost to the frost and the fall, and when I crawled out at last, frozen and broken I swore that someday if I ever had the chance, you were going to know my pain," his voice was barely above a whisper now, and trembling with rage built up over many long years. "You never were an easy man to find, and the years fly away too quickly. For some time I thought you dead all together... and then what do I see one day? But that the shivering beggar has become a king! Of all the twists of fate that was the most cruel, and from the moment I discovered this, your doom has been sealed, you just didn't know it. And now, at last, fate has put you and your meddling friend back in my grasp."

"You tried to kill Legolas and I both," the deadly ire in Aragorn's voice matched that of their captor. "You dragged me through the snow for weeks, so drugged and beaten I could barely stand up! Don't you dare speak to me about un-amended wrongs!"

"Every story has two sides," Dyryn glared. "And time brings all things, including justice. Now it is time for you to pay, and you will pay, as dearly as you can."

"You must know that our deaths will not go un-avenged," Aragorn said coldly, without a trace of fear, still crouching directly in front of his son and holding Legolas tightly.

Dyryn's smile was thin and feral. "But you will not die your highness. You will live. You will live with all the pain and rage and loss that I have had to live with. And you will have to live with the consequences of your own choice. It is the job of a king, is it not, to decide who lives and who dies?" Dyryn raised one eyebrow in cruel amusement. He let the implications of his statement hang in the air for several minutes, watching his prey; the sounds of the soft rain pattering into tiny pools on the forest floor broke the stillness. He blinked the raindrops out of his eyes, his smile broadening as dawning horror spread across the king's face.

Aragorn tensed. He did not like the way this seemed to be heading at all.

"Two people are going to walk out of this glade alive today, but one will not. So choose now oh high and mighty King Elessar, which will it be? Who will you save? The life of your son? Or the life of your friend? Because the other must die." Dyryn swiveled the point of his crossbow between Legolas and Eldarion as he spoke, tapping the wood of the thick bolt with his forefinger.

Aragorn's grip on Legolas' cloak tightened until his knuckles turned white as the horror of what Dyryn wanted to force him to do washed over him. "I choose myself," the king said without hesitation. "Kill me Dyryn and let the others be, I'm the one you really hate."

Dyryn shook his head. "You weren't listening. That is not an option. Dying seems to me too easy for you now that I think it through. No. You are going to live, and find out just how much more painful that can be. So choose, which one are you going to condemn to death and which one will you save?"

"Aragorn..." Legolas whispered, wrapping his hand tighter in his friend's sleeve and pulling slightly to get his attention. "I may be treading that path all ready. Take your son, take him back to Arwen, leave while you can and don't look back my friend. Please."

Eldarion could not speak around the gag Kolir had shoved in his mouth earlier, but he made muffled sounds of protest and shook his head fiercely, trying to catch his father's eye. He would not have his life purchased with the life of another. He had far too much of his father in him to tolerate such a thought and he would not see his father forfeit the life of his best friend or anyone else on his account.

Aragorn felt as if he had been caught between a hammer and an anvil. His heart was torn and he physically could not breathe. This was a choice he could not make. How could he possibly choose between his dear young son and the elf that had become as close as a brother to him? If Dyryn had wanted to force upon Aragorn the cruelest thing he could contrive, he had succeeded.

Grey rain slated down Aragorn's face, making his dark tresses cling to his brow.

Choose.

But he could not choose. How could anyone make the choice being set before him? It was impossible. It would break a heart of stone, and right now, Aragorn was very aware that his heart was made of anything but.

Legolas' blood covered his hands and ran down to mingle with the mud by his boots as he clung to the elf, willing the life to stay in his friend's body. He was the King of Gondor and Arnor, but he could not command Legolas' heart to keep beating, nor bind his spirit to this world if it should choose to set flight. The elf moaned softly and shuddered as the pain of his injuries grew.

"Stay with me Legolas," he whispered softly in elvish. "Don't leave me like this my friend."

Beside him, Aragorn's young son Eldarion struggled against the bonds that held him, the bonds that Aragorn was now helpless to remove. The boy's quick breathing around the gag in his mouth clouded on the chilly air as Aragorn met his son's eyes, wishing he had something to give the young man besides the burning knowledge of how very much his father loved him.

"So which will it be?" the voice of the man who had orchestrated this whole nightmare grated on Aragorn's nerves, making him want more than anything to spring up and choke the life out of his sneering adversary... but any such move would forfeit all their lives.

"Your life is full of choices isn't it? You're *Highness*," the title was a slur. "So choose now or they both die."

The rain pelted as fast as Aragorn's spinning thoughts. He couldn't choose. He couldn't. Had anyone ever been forced to make a crueler decision...?

Oh yes.

One had.

The memory came back to Aragorn in a rush, a day he had not thought of in many, many years. /"Oh father, I understand so much better now..."/

Their captor waved his bow impatiently. "Choose!"

Aragorn buried his face in the shoulder of Legolas' cloak, letting his head sink down, burdened by the heavy choice being pressed upon him. He thought his heart was physically going to break in two. He wished he had died a dozen times before coming to this place, this impossible place with this choice he could not escape from.

"Aragorn..." Legolas' voice was as firm and as fierce as he could make it around his injuries. He gripped his friend's shoulder with an intensity that belied his weakness. "You know... what you chose. Th-that night in the house. Remember what-what you told your father? You were ready... and so am I. Do now what you know you have to and d-do not blame yourself. Ever. Do you understand me Estel? Do you?"

Aragorn barely shook his head, denying the memories. He squeezed his eyes tighter shut; not willing to accept his friend's words, no more than Elrond had been willing to accept his on that long ago night of which Legolas spoke...

In his mind's eye he saw again the deep, heartbreaking horror etched into the usually calm, kind face of his adopted father... perhaps the only time Aragorn had ever seen the elf lord nearly lose control. And now Aragorn felt that same dagger twisting in his own heart, ripping him apart and leaving him bleeding and raw.

Now he knew. At last he finally understood how Elrond must have felt all those many years ago. Understood it far too well, and, as usual, too late.

I didn't know that it was so cold and

You needed someone to show you the way.

So I took your hand and we figured out that

When the time comes I'll take you away.

If you want to,

I can save you

I can take you away from here...

So lonely inside,

So busy out there

And all you wanted was somebody who cares.

I'm sinking slowly,

So hurry hold me

Your hand is all I have to keep me holding on...

-Michele Branch

...80 years before...

"Father the storm's getting worse!" Elrohir called above the howl of the wind, shouting to be heard, even though his father rode less than half a stone's throw away on his right.

Snow was blowing everywhere, driven by the fury of the gale-force winds sweeping over the flat countryside.

Elladan and Elrohir both had the hoods of their cloaks pulled far down over their heads, attempting to shield their eyes against the driving snow and wind, but with little success. The cold was biting and chilled even their elven bodies to the bone.

Elrond nodded silently, his own hood pulled low and held in place by one gloved hand, while the other rested soothingly on the neck of his horse, who liked the storm even less than the elves did. Through the blinding snow he could barely even see the outline of the animal's coal black head and ears. In this driving wind and whiteness, not even his elven eyes could help him much.

They were not yet even a quarter of the way back to Rivendell and in this blizzard that was a target too far off to hope for.

"The horses won't take much more of this," he shook his head, returning his sons' gazes steadily. "They have not our endurance for this biting cold. Over there, there is a thicket of trees. They may break the wind a little. We must try to shelter there until things improve. The storm cannot maintain this kind of fury forever." The elf lord pointed to a wavering black blur just at the edge of their vision and all three of them rode towards it.

As Elrond had said, once they were underneath the sheltering boughs of the pine trees, still arrayed in waving, tossing green despite the bitter cold, the wind lost some of its fury, blocked by the many thick trunks, boughs and the buffer of the pine needles; although their position was still far from comfortable, or safe.

The three elves dismounted and unrolled the blankets strapped behind them like saddlebags across their mounts. Covering the horses, who were shivering obviously now, the elves spoke soft words of comfort and warmth into the animals' ears, which did actually seem to help them a little.

Elladan clenched his fingers tightly in his horse's mane, his already pale knuckles going even whiter. "Sending us back out into this blizzard like wayward beggars at his doors..." he murmured, his anger hot enough to warm him despite the snow. "Does that man want to kill us all?"

Elrond laid a gentle hand on his son's tense shoulder. Truly, if Mannyn had been anywhere near a decent man or at least a decent host, he would have invited the guests to stay, rather than forcing them to attempt the homeward journey in this weather, but the elf Lord had expected no better from the man and was not overly surprised.

Elladan pulled away roughly, huddling closer to his horse and burying his face against its neck. "I'd like to kill *him*!" he vented his muffled rage into the animal's soft coat, ashamed of his own words as he said them, but burning up inside with so much anger, hurt and fear that he could not hold them back. "I'd like to throttle him until he chokes! And he'd deserve it!" Elladan shook with broken rage, refusing to look into his father's face and see what he knew would be there. "It is his own fault that his son is dead! Not Estel's!" The wind howled around them, even under the shelter of the trees its sharp bite took their breath away.

Elladan clenched his eyes tighter shut. Somewhere, out there, was Estel, with a cruel man whom Legolas had all but said was mistreating him. If the three elves were nearly freezing to death out here... what must be happening to his human brother?

"Hating Mannyn won't lessen the storm, or bring Estel back to us." The words were soft and sad, and Elrond had rightly pegged the true reason for Elladan's anger. He did not blame his son for feeling the way he did, it would be a lie to say he had not felt the same anger pass over him more than once when talking with Mannyn, but carrying that kind of hate only hurt the bearer and he did not want that for his son. Especially if... if something had happened to Estel.

Elrohir watched them quietly, but said nothing. His own heart was too heavy, although his sadness went quicker to grief than to anger, as his brother's did.

Turning the younger elf around to face him, Elrond softly pried Elladan's fingers free of the horse's mane. He could feel the frozen chill of his son's bare hands through his gloves. "Elladan, where are your gloves?" he asked somewhat sternly. Frostbite was not a problem they needed.

Elladan shrugged indifferently, looking away and still refusing to meet his father's eyes. "I don't know. I may have forgotten to bring them, or left them at Mannyn's house. I don't remember."

Elrond sighed. Elladan had to be truly disturbed to be that careless, for he was usually the more cautious of the twins. Pulling his own gloves off, Elrond placed them into his son's hand and closed Elladan's fingers around them. "You have a right to be angry. If any harm comes to Estel I will be the first to wish those who caused it the slowest death Illuvitar saw fit to give them," the elf lord said quietly, leaning close so his son could hear him. "But when someone wrongs you Elladan, you have a choice, you can let them sow anger and vengeance in your heart and so win a double victory over you, or you can take the truly difficult path and remain true to what you know is right, what is really in your heart, the wish for justice and not revenge." Elrond laid his hand gently over his son's heart, his gaze willing the younger elf to look at him.

Elladan finally met his father's eyes. "I know you are right. I'm sorry, I just..." he couldn't finish.

"I know," Elrond pulled the younger elf close. "I know."

Elladan allowed his father to embrace him. He may have been older than the oldest trees in the glade around them in years, but sometimes he still felt very young. Thus was the natural oddity of elves, eternally old, perpetually young.

Elrohir held back, standing beside the horses and not wishing to interrupt, but Elrond saw his red-rimed eyes, although the absolute cold around them would have frozen tears before they could fall. He knew how much the twins loved their younger brother, and he understood their helpless pain all too well. Still holding Elladan gently with one arm, Elrond opened the other and beckoned for the younger of his twins to come to him as well. Although they looked most like their father, Elrond continually saw so much of their mother in them, so much so sometimes that it pained his heart at her memory. She had always carried her feelings near the surface, even as his sons seemed to, with a heart big enough to care and grieve for all of Middle Earth it seemed, but with a love so encompassing as to heal all its hurts as well. He missed her. Someday he would follow her over the sea and see her in happier times, but he knew that would not be his path for many, many years yet.

Elrohir accepted his father's invitation and for several long moments they remained thus, drawing comfort from one another. Elrond held his sons' shoulders gently, wishing them the solace he himself could not find. The fear that they would never see Estel again weighed heavily on his heart, bringing home once again just how much the young human truly had become a part of their family. Comfort he could give his sons, yet none he had for himself, but Elrond was deep and hard to read unless one looked closely into the depths of his eyes. Only in those ageless and yet ancient windows of his soul could you catch a glimpse of what he was really feeling in his heart.

All was silent for a few moments, for the wind had abated somewhat. Suddenly Elrond's head, which had fallen to rest on the top of his sons' heads, came up. Far away, as if in a memory or a dream, he thought he had heard something. Something out of place in the middle of this snow-covered desolation.

Elladan and Elrohir looked at him questioningly, but the elf lord placed his fingers to his lips in a request for silence, so they all stood quietly listening intently.

There, they heard it again, all of them this time. A faint, sweet sound, like a lone bird singing a soft, sad and slightly desperate song amid the ravages of the winter world... yet it was no bird, for there were words in the snatches of tune brought to their keen elven ears on the wind. Elvish words.

"It's Legolas!" Elrohir recognized the voice first. "That's Legolas' voice, I'm almost sure of it!"

Elrond nodded once, immediately making his way back to his horse. "It is, and he is close. We must find him." They would have gone searching for the prince on his own account, but unspoken between them was the hope, however faint, that if they found Legolas, Aragorn may also be with him.

Once they left the shelter of the trees, the storm slammed into them full force again, but they battled it's clutches, straining to trace the faint, broken wisps of song carried on the raging winds.

Elrond's face was grim as they changed direction for the sixth time. Legolas' song was getting closer and easier to hear, but it was faltering more frequently now and he read in it a weariness that should not have belonged to an elf. "We must hurry," he urged his sons and their mounts. "Or I fear we shall come there too late."

I'm sinking slowly,

So hurry hold me

Your hand is all I have to keep me holding on...

Legolas shivered uncontrollably, clutching Aragorn tightly to his chest and trying to give whatever warmth he had left to the ranger as the snow piled up around them. The rock ledge at their back was precious little protection and the drifts were creeping higher and closer. Night was fast approaching and the temperature would only keep going down. They would never survive until dawn.

Legolas knew they should probably move again, should try to find better shelter... but he was too weary now and too unfamiliar with the land. He felt completely drained and didn't know if he could carry Aragorn any further, and even if he could, where would they go anyway?

So much of Legolas' strength was going towards the violently shivering, nearly unresponsive young man clutched tightly in his arms that the elf barely even realized that his own body was freezing and slowly beginning to succumb to the bitter, bitter cold. And if he did notice, he did not seem to care. Either they made it out of here together, or neither of them did.

He kept singing because as long as he did, he could feel Aragorn holding on. Gripping the young man's hand as tightly as his own frozen fingers allowed, Legolas provided the human with the only life-line he had to offer, the only anchor that was still holding Aragorn's spirit from flying away beyond reach on the wings of the merciless wind. Unfortunately, Legolas knew he could not hold onto his friend by the force of his will forever. Yet while there was a breath of life left in his body, he would try.

His song had become a barely a frozen whisper, a sad lament for summer long gone, perhaps never to return. The tune was still sweet and clear, but the words began to stutter as the elf prince's frozen lips became heavier and harder to move.

The cold wanted him. It wanted them both. Like a ravening beast it sought them, but Legolas still fought it, fought it for both of them. He forced himself to sing around frostbit lips and hurting throat, parched and frozen from the harsh dry air... because somehow, he knew, that when he stopped, they would both die.

He sang until his voice failed him and the freezing cold at last reached his heart. Legolas sank forward slowly, unable to fight any more on his own. Bowing his head over Aragorn's, and resting his cheek against the top of the ranger's head, Legolas closed his eyes. His strength was gone and there was nothing now between either he or Aragorn and the deathly cold that waited for them.

Away to the west, Elrond and his sons froze in heart-stopping alarm as they heard the song falter and die, ripped away by the merciless wind.

"Over here!" Elrond called sharply when he spotted the darker shapes through the blowing snow. Elladan and Elrohir, who had fanned out to either side in their desperate search, quickly followed their father's voice back to him.

At the base of a small cliff, the three elves found what they had both wanted, and feared, most.

Legolas sat with his back against the wall; so much snow coated his long hair that it looked silver in the fading light instead of gold. The elf prince was clothed only in his tunic and leggings, wearing neither cloak nor jerkin. In his frozen arms he held Aragorn close, half-slumped over the form of the young ranger.

Aragorn was so cold his skin had picked up a whitish-blue tint, making the cruel bruises and cuts on his face and body stand out stark and painful against his pale flesh. He was wrapped in a blanket, his own cloak, Legolas' cloak and Legolas' over-tunic, which the elf had obviously given up in an attempt to save his friend. But when Elrond touched him the young ranger was cold. As cold as the snow. So was Legolas. For a heart-stopping instant the elvish lord thought both of the friends were dead and they had indeed come a few moments too late.

The two sat huddled together, unmoving and half-buried in a snowdrift that had blown up against the base of the cliff at their back. Elrond and the twins quickly shoveled the snow away from them with their hands.

"Estel? Estel! Legolas? Estel!" Elrohir was shaking his little brother, desperately searching for some sign of life.

Gently Elrond pulled Elrohir back, pressing his fingers under the side of Aragorn's chin. The elder elf felt nothing and he closed his eyes, unwilling to accept that. Unwilling to have to give that news to his sons. He placed his hand on Aragorn's chest, pleading with heaven and anyone else that would hear him to find a heartbeat. There, under his hand, he felt it. Very faint, but unmistakably there. Aragorn was still drawing breath, however weak and tenuous it may be.

"He's alive," Elrond could not keep the relief out of his voice. "Legolas too," he confirmed, finding a pulse on the prince somewhat easier. "But both of them are treading far too near the brink of death. The slightest wind may push them over. They must have warmth and treatment and very soon." The elf lord's voice turned urgent and determined. He knew what that meant.

"We'll never make it back to Rivendell in time for that," Elrohir shook his head in dismay. "It is yet two or three hour's ride distant at least!"

"No indeed," Elrond shook his head as Elladan brought extra blankets from their packs and helped his father and brother wrap the two unresponsive friends in them. "Legolas might make it that far, but Estel never will. He is much too far gone already." The elder elf pressed his hands gently on either side of his youngest son's face, assessing his condition gravely.

"Then there is only one choice," Elladan said grimly, with a touch of steel in his voice.

Elrond nodded. "I fear so. However foolish and ill advised it may seem, we must take them back to Mannyn's house."

"But he wants to kill Estel! He's the one that caused all of this!" Elrohir blinked in surprise, even though he had to admit the idea was the only one plausible. "We cannot take Estel there, and he will never admit us."

Elrond's look was hard and dangerous as he rose to his feet, lifting Aragorn's frozen, nearly lifeless body with him. "He will because he does not have a choice. We must hope that Mannyn is not foolish enough to wish to bring down the wrath of the elves upon his house, and we will see to Estel's safety. But if he does not have a fire and proper care soon, it will not matter if he were taken to Valinor or Barad-dûr, it will be too late."

Elrohir questioned no more, understanding now, and he and Elladan lifted Legolas between them, carrying him back to their horses as Elrond carried Aragorn.

Elrond placed his youngest son before him on his horse and wrapped the soft, velvety folds of his fur-lined cape around the young Dùnadan, pulling Aragorn's frozen body close and sharing his body warmth. The boy was so cold. Much, much too cold. Gently, Elrond pressed his son's head against his breast, letting his fingers twine in Aragorn's dark, unruly hair as he held the human firmly to him with his other arm around Aragorn's shoulders. At Elrond's word, his horse started off at a quick trot. The elves needed no reins to guide their steeds, and that left their hands free to hold their frozen companions.

Legolas was mounted up in front of Elrohir, who positioned him so that the prince's back was to him, and he could hold him, securely wrapped in a warm blanket and his own cloak, even as Elrond had done for Estel.

Elladan rode slightly ahead of them, making sure the way was clear, for the blowing snow and fading light made things extremely treacherous, and they could risk no further shock to their precious, fragile burdens.

Elrohir was concerned by the dead chill he felt rolling off of Legolas' body in his arms. Elves did not usually get that cold. Even in this weather, it surprised him greatly that the prince should have succumbed to the cold without any other sign of a visible injury to have weakened him to the frost's deadly bite. He voiced this concern to his father.

"I don't understand what is wrong with the prince," Elrohir said by way of a question as he rode next to his father, once the wind had begun to die down a little and made talking more convenient. "He is frozen through... but... he is an elf, not a human like Estel, prone to the rages of the elements."

Elrond glanced compassionately at the pale, cold face of the prince, resting on his son's shoulder. At first he had wondered the same thing, but riding with Estel he had begun to get an idea of the young man's extremely fragile state and he thought now that he understood what had happened.

"Legolas saved Estel," he said quietly. "He gave him so much of his own strength that it drained him, critically. He will recover I think, if only we can get him warm, dry and out of the elements, for his hurt is not as grievous as your brother's. But it was a brave and caring thing he did. If we had not found them they both would surely have perished out there." The elf lord's voice was soft. He understood because he had picked up where Legolas left off, supporting Aragorn's fragile thread of life as much as he could with his love and his warmth and his life. But they had to get to shelter and fast or there would be nothing that even Elrond could do to save either of them.

Elrohir's arms tightened slightly around the unconscious prince. "I already counted you a friend Legolas," he whispered softly into the prince's ear. "But now I count you trice blessed for bringing him back to us..." his voice trailed off, caught in his own emotions.

Elrond heard his son's quiet words and simply held Aragorn tighter. He remembered years and years ago, when his own sons had still been young children, and he had gone to comfort a hurting young elf prince though all the interests of his mission had seemed against such a move. He had saved Legolas' life then, and now Legolas had saved his son's. Indeed, Legolas and Aragorn had saved each other's lives so many times since they met it seemed hard to keep track of them all. It was incredible sometimes; the way life worked out. Never quite the way you thought, but always amazingly vast in its complicated intricacies. Truly, you simply never knew what the future might bring.

When Mannyn's house came into view at last, Elrond wished he could say it was a welcome sight, but he knew that they were far from being out of danger. Still, any shelter was preferable to this storm. For the past half a mile a warg pack had been surreptitiously trailing them. They were the smaller members of the breed, closer in size to normal wolves than some of their larger kin, but they must be wild and dangerous creatures indeed to be out in weather such as this. The three elves were very aware of the situation, but the beasts had made no move on them and kept their distance thus far. However, the sooner they got indoors, the better.

No one was minding the estate's main gates now and the drifting snow had rendered them unable to be closed, so the three horses rode swiftly through without hindrance.

Dismounting in the courtyard, Elrond brought Aragorn down with him, shifting the young ranger in his arms so that he could more easily carry him. Elladan took Legolas from his brother so Elrohir could dismount.

Legolas was beginning to stir and moaned softly when Elladan lifted him down. Suddenly his half-opened eyes registered blind alarm and he stiffened as his frozen mind tried to shake off the ice-crystals encumbering it. He didn't know where he was or what was happening, but the one thing he could tell was that Aragorn was not in his arms anymore. Panic for his friend washed over him. "Aragorn? A-Ara-"

"Shh..." Elladan gently touched Legolas' pale lips, silencing his fears. "It's all right, we have him, we have you both. Come Legolas, we've got to get inside."

"Where...?" Legolas was still only barely functioning and couldn't begin to see through the falling snow. The wind whipped his hair in his face and did not help matters. He recognized Elladan's voice though, and for that he was grateful.

"Mannyn's house unfortunately," Elladan said with a hint of disdain. "There is nowhere else near and Estel will not survive much longer in this cold." He tried to pick the elf prince up, but Legolas was having none of that; even half-frozen and barely conscious he insisted on at least trying to walk, so Elladan relented and wrapped his arm under Legolas' armpits instead, supporting the staggering prince.

Legolas wasn't at all pleased with Elladan's words, but all his concentration was focused on trying to walk and stay conscious, so he said nothing more.

Mannyn's old hostler, who had seen to their horses before, saw the three figures ride in from his little apartment in the side of the big house, beside the stables. He peered timidly out the stable door, surprised that anyone should be out in this weather. He did not recognize the elves through the blowing storm until Elrohir approached swiftly and spoke to him.

"Here," the young elf quickly handed charge of their horses off to the little man. "Please get them in out of the cold."

Elrond and Elladan were already heading up the path to the house's front door.

"Hoi! Hoi! You can't just go up there! Mas'er say's he's not to be disturbed! Hoi! Wait!" the little man dithered in alarm. He knew that Mannyn would not be at all pleased to see the elves again.

"Just see to the horses!" Elrohir said with more than a hint of impatience as he hurried to catch up to the rest of his family, shooting the bothersome human a somewhat fierce look of annoyance over his shoulder.

The hostler scurried back into the stable quickly, taking the horses with him. The elves frightened him and he had no wish to get on their bad side, no matter what his master said.

The small company mounted the flagstone steps quickly, although the steps themselves could no longer be seen under the snow. Elrond carried Aragorn in front of him like he had when the young ranger was a child, supporting Aragorn's shoulders with one arm and his knees with the other. Elrond had the strength of the elves to aid him, but he almost did not need it. Aragorn had lost a lot of weight and seemed frighteningly unsubstantial in his arms. Whatever hurts the young human had taken had come about over a far longer period of time than just this one storm. Elrond's face was grim. Someone had hurt his son and hurt him badly. That did not sit well with the elf at all. The young human's head lolled lifelessly against Elrond's shoulder as they reached the top of the stairs and Elrond pulled the boy closer to him. The last of the sun's rays were fading from the sky and darkness was upon them. The temperature was dropping like a stone down a bottomless well and even the elf lord shivered at its severe bite.

Elladan, still supporting Legolas with one arm, pounded on the large wooden panels of Mannyn's front door with his other. When the door was not answered in the next five seconds, Elladan pounded again, louder. Legolas had begun shivering violently again and the earth spun dizzily around him. He leaned heavily on the elf supporting him, letting his head rest against Elladan's shoulder as he tried to keep the world from going black once more.

After what seemed a long time, Mannyn himself pulled the door open, holding a lantern to pierce the falling gloom and peering out at the elves on his steps as if they were pesky beggars, or highwaymen, or perhaps both. He was obviously surprised and not at all pleased to see them.

"What do you want?" he demanded with icy suspicion, making no move to let them in, although the storm was obviously very fierce and the cold nearly unbearable.

"We *want* to come in!" Elladan said somewhat hotly. His previous anger towards this man quickly beginning to smolder once more. "We have sick people here and they've got to get out of the elements, now!"

Mannyn's gaze roamed dispassionately over Legolas' pale, shivering form, to Elladan, and to Elrond behind them... then he saw who it was that the elf lord was holding in his arms and his eyes flashed ire no less hot than Elladan's.

"How dare you bring that murderer to my house?! Do you think to mock me?" he spat angrily. He started to slam the door in their faces, but Elladan was too quick for him. With his free arm he caught the door, refusing to let it close. If he had not been supporting Legolas he might have ripped the wooden portal right off its hinges.

Elrohir was by his brother's side quickly and the two of them easily forced the door open again, pushing Mannyn back into the corridor a few paces.

Elladan's eyes flashed dangerously as he shifted Legolas weight. "You try to close that door on us again and I swear we will take it apart for you!"

Elrohir's glare was hardly less deadly.

"You can't just shove your way into my house!" Mannyn was shouting in both anger and fear, foolishly trying to push the door back against the twins.

In a very few moments the two young elves just might have made good their threat, but Elrond intervened before things could get out of hand.

Stepping up quickly into the space cleared by his son's actions he locked eyes with Mannyn, silently forbidding the man to look away from him. "Listen to me Mannyn," Elrond said quietly, but with a soft lethalness that the human would have done well to heed. "We are not ruffians out to rob you nor beggars seeking charity. I will pay you for your services if that is what you desire, anything you want that is in my power to give you may have, but we must have a warm, dry place *immediately* or my son and his friend are going to die. And I will not let that happen. Do you understand me?"

Mannyn glared daggers at the elf lord, appearing to waver in indecision. In truth he would have liked to see all of them dead, but getting on the bad side of Lord Elrond and his sons was not something to take too lightly. He seemed on the verge of refusing again anyway, no matter how foolish that would have been, when Dolmè, roused by the heated voices in the hall, came up beside him.

"Oh don't trouble yourself Master Mannyn, I'll see to the visitors," she bustled up, intentionally taking the door handle out of her employer's hand. "You shouldn't ought to be bothering yourself with answering the door on a chill night like this, you'll catch your death!" she shivered, not allowing a word in edgewise. "Caw but it's cold out there, ain't it? Do come in so we can stop letting all this draft into the passage," she pulled the door open and allowed the elves inside at last.

Dolmè knew exactly what she was doing. She had served Mannyn long enough to know his moods and when he was about to do something stupid before he'd actually thought it all the way through. Honestly, she might not have been too sorry if the elves had given the cruel old man what he deserved, but if trouble could be avoided, the better. And she would not see the visitors left out in the cold at any rate.

Mannyn scowled at the elderly woman, but gave way grudgingly as he realized that denying his unwelcome guests would do no good.

"Come in then!" Mannyn snapped, glaring at Elrond as the elf carried Aragorn quickly down the passage behind Dolmè who was busily leading the wet, snow-clad figures away to the guestrooms. "But keep your brats out of my sight!" he called after Elrond's retreating back.

Elrond ignored the impossible man and kept his attention fixed on the unconscious boy in his arms as he and his sons followed Dolmè down the hall.

Legolas was very close to blacking out again as Elladan and Elrohir eased him down onto the bed in the first guestroom. Elrond proceeded on to the second room, a little further down the passage, and laid Aragorn's limp form gently down on top of the deep blue bed-spread, quickly covering the young man with another quilt and two more blankets that had been sitting unused on a stand by the window.

"If you need anything else, give me a call," Dolmè told him, lingering in the doorway. She liked to watch the elves and the extreme gentleness with which Elrond handled the young man on the bed was touching. "I'd better go see to Master though, or he'll be-"

"Dolmè? Dolmè!" Mannyn's impatient voice called from somewhere further off in the house.

Dolmè sighed and rolled her eyes. "Well there he goes, sure enough. But do call if I can help, all right?"

"Thank you Dolmè," Elrond nodded his gratitude at her, both for her offer and for helping to avoid an incident a few minutes ago.

The woman left and Elrond turned back to Aragorn. The young human looked so pale and fragile, and so very young, silhouetted against the dark blankets. Elrond pushed back a wave of heartache as he smoothed the boy's damp, dark hair back from his forehead.

His sons' raised voices down the hall made the elf lord look up quickly.

"Lie still or I'll knock you out again myself," Elladan was firmly but gently trying to keep Legolas in the bed he and his brother had placed him in. "You're not going to help anyone if you kill yourself."

"I need to get to Aragorn..." Legolas was not all the way there and was moving solely on his last driving instinct to protect and sustain his friend. "You don't understand! He needs me, he can't-can't..."

"Estel is in good hands Legolas," Elrond's voice came in through the doorway as he entered the room. Gently, the elf lord placed his palm against the prince's clammy forehead, seeming to have a calming effect on him with just his touch.

Legolas relaxed slightly and his hurting body slumped back against the headboard behind him. "But..."

"Shh," Elrond soothed him. "I know what you did, but you can support him no longer Legolas, let him go, your own body needs you now. Rest, regain your strength, I have taken over what you began and I will pull Estel through this. Rest now. Rest."

Legolas needed very little encouragement; his body was already failing him, refusing to support his consciousness any longer.

"Stay with him Elrohir," Elrond charged his son as Legolas' eyes closed in utter exhaustion. "All he really needs is rest and time to regain what he has given away. There is some mild frostbite I think; you have the necessary things to treat it with you I believe. If you need anything else, come to me. But I must return to Estel." Aragorn's condition was not nearly so certain as he had wanted Legolas to believe. "Elladan, come, I need your help."

Elladan followed closely on his father's heels as the elder elf returned to Aragorn's bedside. "How bad is it?" the younger elf was not fooled by his father's words to the prince.

"Serious. Very serious I fear. There is some toxin, either a poison or a drug in his system that will need to be flushed out. He has taken grievous hurt from the cold and what other injures I may discover I do not even know yet." Elrond was candid with his son. The elf lord was very worried about his youngest.

"Legolas told me the man who had him, kept Estel drugged with something," Elladan commented in response to his father's first statement, glancing painfully at the small form of his brother on the bed.

Elrond's features hardened slightly and his lips thinned. "Then that is part of what we're still dealing with. I must seek something to purge his system, but first we've got to get him warm. Would you build a fire please?" he gestured towards the stocked, but unlit fireplace in the corner of the room.

Elladan nodded and set to work at once.

Gently, Elrond eased Aragorn out of his wet, torn clothing. Blue-black bruises, welts and abrasions, some old and fading, some fresh and painful, were uncovered one by one as the elf Lord removed the soiled garments. Gently he washed the blood and dirt from his son's face and body, putting salve on the torn flesh and lineament on the bruises. Aragorn flinched slightly and stirred, his brow knotted and his face pained.

Elrond spoke softly in elvish as he tended the young man, hoping that if Aragorn could hear him, his voice would be soothing. He had nothing to change the ranger into, so he asked Elladan to rummage through the old trunks and cedar chests that were shoved into the closet at the back of the room. Apparently these quarters doubled as storage space, for the elf found some garments that were about the right size and helped his father re-dress his younger brother in a soft, warm tunic of creamy wool with dark blue leggings.

"Take some of these clothes to your brother," Elrond instructed Elladan after they finished. "Help him get Legolas changed as well. These wet garments will do neither of them any good."

Elladan left and Elrond pressed the back of his hand against Estel's forehead with some concern. Aragorn's face was no longer pale, but beginning to flush deeply as the blood returned to his extremities. Elrond knew the thawing would be extremely painful, but what worried him more was that Aragorn's rising temperature was quickly climbing far beyond the normally expected flush. A fever was setting in, fast and with a vengeance. The young ranger's body was too weak and too far compromised to fight it.

Aragorn stirred restlessly under his father's hand. His face reflected pain as he moaned softly, shifting uneasily under the covers.

"Shh... îdh Estel, ha mae," he whispered soothingly. "Rest Estel, it's all right."

"F-father?" Aragorn murmured thickly, his eyes flittering momentarily open. Elrond could see the extreme fever-brightness burning in the young human's glazed silver gaze. He could only barely see Estel behind those eyes, but it seemed that the boy was very far away.

"I'm here Estel, shh... rest now," he tried to soothe the boy back to sleep, but Aragorn's face twisted with pain and he moaned again, turning away from Elrond's touch and burying his face into the bedclothes. Aragorn felt like he was burning up. After the extreme cold, the warmth of his own thawing body was unbearable. His senses were on fire and his mind was cloudy. He had no control over his thoughts and his consciousness floated freely, only vaguely tethered to reality, part as a result of his near-deathly illness and partly because of the drugs that were even yet in his system.

Elrond laid his hand gently on the boy's back, feeling the heat that was now radiating from the human's body. Aragorn shuddered slightly under his hand, the quilts muffling his soft, dry sob.

"D-don't..." the young ranger murmured, and Elrond started to pull back, but Aragorn kept talking. "Don't leave. I-I'm sorry. Please father... don't leave me this time!" the words were a mere begging whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere Estel," Elrond assured gently, rolling the young man onto his back once more and laying a cool, damp cloth on his feverish forehead. "I'll always be here if you need me."

"No... no you'll leave again..." Aragorn wasn't really conscious. As far as he knew he was merely trapped in another Belithral hallucination. But these were the ones he could not stand... "Don't... don't please... I-I was cold, b-but now I'm so hot..." he tossed restlessly. "Make it stop... make it stop!"

Elrond realized the young man was delirious. "I wish I could Estel," he said earnestly, his heart tearing. "I wish I could."

Elladan reentered the room and stood quietly at the foot of his brother's bed, watching in painful silence. Elrond motioned him closer and gestured to his bag, laying open on the floor. "Elladan, mix me up a hythinyns compound. We have to get something into his blood to fight the toxins and bring his temperature down."

Elladan nodded and complied quickly, well versed in his father's many different healing potions, poultices, draughts and herbs. He prepared the required solution and Elrond mixed it with water, half-helping, half-forcing Aragorn to drink it.

As Elrond laid him back down, Aragorn's breathing began to speed up. He was becoming more and more disturbed as reality slid ever further away from him. Elrond could only hope that the antitoxin he had given the boy would take effect quickly. It hurt him to see Aragorn this way.

The young Dùnadan tossed his head feverishly. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry! I-I know I'm just a man... too weak, I know it... b-but I need you..." the words became a stifled sob as his distress mounted. "I need you! Don't turn away from me... no! Please no... don't leave me again, please... father... please..."

Elrond pressed his eyes shut tightly for a moment and when he opened them again, Elladan could see that they glistened in the firelight, moist with the elven lord's anguish. Taking both sides of Aragorn's burning face in his hands, Elrond held the young man's head still, leaning close and willing the boy to hear him.

"Listen to me Aragorn. Listen to me. I will not leave you. I have never turned my back on you and I never will. I would never reject you for being human, or weak, or for any other reason under this sun! Do you hear me Estel? I will not abandon you!" Elrond pleaded firmly, imploring Aragorn to hear him and understand.

For several long moments it seemed to the elf lord that he was struggling with the darkness of despair and illness that was keeping Aragorn's spirit away from the light, but gradually, ever so gradually, the Dùnadan was responding to his call.

After what seemed a very long time, Aragorn blinked slowly, and for the first time that evening, Elrond could see his son in the ranger's deep grey eyes once more. Aragorn just blinked testing the vision before him, trying to be sure this was real and not another drug induced nightmare.

Elrond squeezed his son's hand, smiling gently. "Welcome back Estel, you've had us worried."

Aragorn smiled back weakly, almost too exhausted to even speak. "Father," he whispered as his eyes closed again on their own, content that the one before him was truly flesh and blood this time.

"Yes Estel, I am here," Elrond sat down on the bed, pulling the young ranger's shoulders into his lap so Aragorn's head could rest cradled against his chest. "I am here."

"I know," Aragorn murmured faintly as he fell back asleep. "I know."

Legolas slept deep and sound. So deep was his slumber and so serious his exhaustion that he rested with closed eyes, his breathing soft and slow.

Elrohir, seated in the chair beside the sleeping elf's bed, had treated the prince for minor frostbite on his fingers, but Legolas had been otherwise unharmed and the dark haired elf knew his charge was out of danger. Elladan had come in a few minutes ago to tell his brother that Estel too, was resting safely at last, although it had been touch and go for a long time.

Relieved and weary from cold and care, Elrohir leaned forward, resting his head and folded arms on the edge of Legolas' bed. The room was warm and filled with the soothing sent of the herbs he had used on Legolas' frostbite. Slowly, the elf drifted silently into an emotionally exhausted slumber.

Mannyn held the tumbler of wine so tightly in his fist that his grip almost threatened to pop the bowl of the cup from the stem. He glared at the fire dancing on the hearth before him with dark, brooding eyes.

Dolmè had retired for the evening about a half hour ago, but he could still see lights burning from the guest rooms commandeered by the elves, curse them.

Blast that fool of a bounty hunter for bungling his job! That straggly young whelp of a ranger should have been his! Should have been cringing under the most painful death that Mannyn could contrive to give him... not resting like a guest in his halls! And blast those stupid elves for interfering! What right did they have to keep sticking their noses into the affairs of the humans around them anyway? Rivendell held no dominion over him and Elrond was no king that Mannyn should have to obey him like a whipped cur...

Downing the drink and pouring himself another, Mannyn continued to stew, his ire rising slowly, notch by notch and expanding inside him like frozen water in a sealed jar... threatening to shatter the vessel that contained it.

Dolmè didn't know he had the alcohol hidden in his chambers, interfering busybody that she was, she would never have let him alone about it if she had. Honestly, she forgot her place sometimes. Always so worried about his condition... Mannyn drained that glass as well and poured another, his shaking hand splashing the crimson liquid on the dark rug under his chair, splattering against the three empty bottles that had all ready fallen there. To hell with his condition! As if there was anything that would make it better or worse... what use was there fighting the inevitable? What point was there in living anyway?...

The old man's eyes narrowed, dark, perilous fire kindling in their twisted depths. There was one thing left to live for: Vengeance. And once that was accomplished, who cared what happened?

Angrily, the man threw the empty wine bottle across the room. It smashed against the wall, bursting into a thousand pieces and streaking the stones red, as if with blood. Mannyn smiled, liking the analogy. There would be blood in this house tonight, one way or another.

The ranger was going to pay and so would the elves that protected him. Elrond would pay for his interference... yes he would pay most dear.

Tugging open the hidden compartment near the fireplace mantel, Mannyn shoved the extra wine bottles aside and pulled out a different kind of vial. A satisfied smile twisted his face. It was a good thing he hadn't given that idiot Dyryn all the belithral...

Everything I am

And everything in me

Wants to be the one you wanted me to be

I'll never let you down

Even if I could

I'd give up everything

If only for your good

So hold me when I'm here

Right me when I'm wrong

Hold me when I'm scared

You won't always be there

So love me when I'm gone

Love me when I'm gone...

-Three Doors Down

Elrohir's shoulders rose and fell steadily, his head still resting on his arms against Legolas' bed. Even exhausted and emotionally run-out, his guard was up and his sleep light.

His head jerked up quickly, his dozing shattered when his sharp hearing detected the sound of barely audible footfalls and a presence that did not seem to be either his father or brother. But it was too late.

As quiet and as lethal as a mountain cat, even drunk and as emotionally disturbed as he was, Mannyn was already behind the elf. One hand clamped tightly on Elrohir's shoulder while the other jabbed a short, sharp, belithral-laden spike into the side of the elf's neck, delivering an almost instantly debilitating dose of the potent drug.

For a few moments Elrohir struggled, but his thrashing stilled quickly as the drug raced through his system, shutting down everything but his autonomous responses and rendering him completely unable to move.

"That's better," Mannyn growled softly, yanking the limp elf up by his long brown hair. Holding Elrohir tightly to his chest with one arm around the elf's waist, he dragged his conscious, but helpless captive down the passage, leaving the other elf still unconscious on the bed.

Elrond was sitting on the edge of Aragorn's bed, with Elladan by his feet, cross-legged on the floor. Aragorn had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past five minutes or so, but he was more or less aware at the moment and when Elrond looked up suddenly, he did as well.

In the doorway to their right stood Mannyn. He said nothing at first, but just stared at them with wild hatred in his eyes. In his arms he held Elrohir, who sagged limply against him. At Elrohir's throat Mannyn clutched the hilt of a long, curved dagger. The blade was already pressed so roughly against the young elf's neck that it had broken the skin and Elrohir's throat was red with blood beneath the razor edge.

Elrond rose to his feet immediately, glaring daggers at the man who had dared treat his son that way, but a vicious pull on the knife by Elrohir's already bleeding throat halted him where he stood.

"Move one more inch and he dies Master Elf," Mannyn threatened coldly. "That goes for your brats too!" he glared sharply at Elladan who had also jumped to his feet.

"Why you-" Elladan's eyes burned with deadly fire as he advanced a pace on the man holding his twin hostage.

"Elladan!" Elrond's arm snapped out to the side to restrain his eldest as he saw the way Mannyn's hand tensed nervously on the knife. The elderly man's fingers were already trembling with rage and who knew what else, he was in no state of mind to be pushed. He would kill Elrohir at a moments notice, of that Elrond was deadly sure.

"But he-" Elladan was nearly blind with fury and heartsick with concern. Elrohir was not only his brother but his best friend, they completed one another, almost like two halves to the same person. He couldn't stand seeing him like this.

"I said stay where you are!" Elrond commanded again, sharply. He knew how Elladan felt but the younger elf's over-ready temper was not going to help them at this point.

"That's smart Master Elrond, very smart," Mannyn hissed. "I hope you really are as wise as they say, because then you will hear me out and not cause your boy here a premature death!"

Aragorn had sat up with an extreme effort and leaned on his elbows, watching what was unfolding from behind Elrond and Elladan with wide, quiet eyes. He desperately hoped that he had merely slid into another nightmare, but somehow he knew this was only too real.

Elrond's gaze was deadly and he speared Mannyn with it. There were very few who could have stood up to the sheer wrath in the elf father's eyes, but Mannyn was filled with so much insane rage and blood-lust that he did not waver.

"I will listen, but you listen to me first Mannyn, and listen very carefully," Elrond said, his voice quiet but perilous. "If you harm so much as one hair on that boy's head I swear I will have your life for it and I do not make idle promises or threats. Let him go now, and I will forget this incident. Believe me Mannyn, you do not want to bring the wrath of the elves down upon your house in this manner. Let him go."

Mannyn chuckled. The crazed glint in his eye suggested that the swelling, frozen rage inside him had indeed finally cracked and shattered his heart and his mind, leaving behind only the mangled shards of anger and revenge twisting inside him. "So you think. But my life matters not, for you cannot take from me that which fate has already stolen!" he laughed again, a self-pleased cackle. "You see Master Elrond, not even you know everything. I'm dying. Dying! I may not live to see the dawn whether I invite your wrath or not! So you see, I have nothing to lose."

Elrond's jaw hardened. Now he understood what he had sensed about the human earlier. Mannyn was ill, and it was an illness that was killing his body slowly, just as surely as the rage and hate he had grown inside him had slowly killed his soul.

"I've listened to you, now you listen to me," Mannyn continued. "I have no desire for this boy's blood," his eyes narrowed and fixed on Aragorn, still on the bed behind Elrond and Elladan. "But that one I claim. He took my son from me, leaving me to die a lonely, bitter old man! I want his blood and I'll have it! So you turn him over to me, or your son will die in his place."

Elrond's eyes blazed. "You cannot expect me to..."

"Don't think to put me off with your words!" Mannyn snapped, his thread of patience incredibly fragile. "Consider long and hard oh mighty elf lord before you answer me. That ranger's not your son though you protect him, he's as human as I am and no kin to elves. So unless you would trade his life as more dear than your own flesh and blood you will do as I say!"

Aragorn's face was pale. Pushing himself to the edge of the bed he swung his legs down over the side. His head spun dizzily at the movement and at being upright, but he pressed it aside. "He's right," the young man's voice was quiet and resolved.

Elrond's firm hand on his shoulder kept the young human from trying to stand up. "Be still Estel," the elf told him quietly, then turned back to Mannyn. "You do not know everything either Mannyn, as is obvious. Estel is my nephew by blood, no matter how many generations removed, but I say to you he is my son as surely as those that were born of my wife. And no child of mine will I sacrifice to feed your twisted sense of revenge! Estel fought a clean fight with your son, one he did not even desire, let it go and do not compound tragedy with atrocity! Free Elrohir and release your misguided claim on Estel's blood." Elrond was usually an extremely composed being, but Mannyn had pushed him past the edge of patience.

"You are not in your own house Lord Elrond, and you cannot give orders," Mannyn's voice grew cold. "If you insist on claiming the ranger then do so, but the choice is still set before you. Give him up to me, or I'll slit this one's throat right now! I would prefer the former, but either way will still give you the opportunity to experience the pain that I have felt because of those you claim as yours..."

Mannyn pressed the knife down harder and a soft moan of pain escaped Elrohir's unresponsive lips. The drug held him still in its clutches and he was only semi-conscious, but he heard what was being demanded in return for his life and tried to force himself to speak, to tell them not to comply under any circumstances! But the words would not come; he did not have that much control over his body.

"Don't think I won't do it!" Mannyn threatened when no one spoke. With unexpected brutality, he moved the knife down and cut a quick, deep slash across the side of the base of Elrohir's neck, deftly slicing the artery that lay near the surface there and causing bright, crimson blood to flow with alarming freedom. Elrohir's body jerked reflexively, eliciting another soft, moaning gasp.

Elladan started and looked like he wanted to tear Mannyn's head off, but he held himself still, knowing that any action on his part would only lay his brother's life upon his head.

"Time is running out now, isn't it?" Mannyn snarled. "You're a healer, how long would you say he has until he bleeds to death? Mere minutes? Less than that? So choose swiftly before your choice is made for you! Which one will you save?"

Elrond saw the glazed, drugged pain in his son's eyes as the ugly dark stain spread swiftly across the front of the young elf's tunic, and the elf lord's heart twisted inside him. Mannyn was right, because of it's location and at the rate that wound was bleeding Elrohir had less than minutes to live if nothing was done. If he or Elladan moved, Elrohir was dead, if they did nothing, he would still die. Yet Elrond could never give Estel up to this man! How could he choose between his sons like this? It was unthinkable.

"You ask the impossible!" the elf lord was closer to losing control then anyone had ever seen him before and his voice trembled. Helpless anguish and ire pulsed through his heart, causing each throb to take his breath away. Elrohir's life was draining away in front of him, but the only thing that would save his life was equally unthinkable...

Aragorn roughly shrugged Elrond's hand off his shoulder, forcing himself to his feet and trying to push past the two elves in front of him. "Let him go!" he rasped slightly, wavering on his feet. He would never, ever let either of his brothers die for him! There was no choice to make, the answer was clear. "You can have me, let him go!"

Elladan grabbed his youngest brother somewhat roughly, holding the weakened ranger back and shooting an anguished, confused look at his father.

"No, Estel..." The gaze that Elrond turned on the young human ripped Aragorn's heart in two. There were actual unshed tears in the elderly elf's eyes, anguish that ranger could not begin to understand tearing his father's heart apart. Aragorn set his jaw. There was no sense in this. They had to hurry or it would be too late! There was no question in the young man's mind that it needed to be he and not Elrohir who died today, surely Elrond had to see it too.

"No father! You know this is right, you can't ask me to let anyone else die in my place, least of all those I love more dear than life!" Aragorn staggered slightly as he tried to pull away from Elladan's grip. He was still incredibly weak, but his voice was firm and determined.

"I'm not afraid to die, but I cannot live knowing..." he shook his head in frustration, his words tumbling and eluding him as his injured body clamored for his attention. It wasn't completely true that he wasn't afraid, but he was more terrified of the idea of living and knowing what his life had cost. Confound it all why didn't they just let him do what he had to do?!

Aragorn caught his father's eyes. "I'm ready," he whispered, begging Elrond to see in his eyes that it was the truth. "The choice isn't yours, I'm making it; it's my life to give! Let me go and never regret it. I'm ready."

Elrohir's face was deadly pale and his eyes were half closed, his breathing shallow and ragged. Time was running out and Mannyn's impatient glare watched the argument with cruel amusement. With any luck both the elf and the ranger would die. He would like that very much.

Elrond's council was sought by many and his wisdom renowned... but at this moment no wisdom or council in the world could help the elf lord with the impossible situation at hand.

Mannyn cackled with wicked glee, very obviously having gone over the edge of sanity and deep into the cloudy dark of madness. "Time runs away like blood... so choose. Choose!"

Legolas was wandering beneath the stars under the beech trees near his home in his dreams when a sudden sense of danger tugged at him. In his exhausted, run-down state it was difficult to understand the warning and his aching body resisted the summons to consciousness, clinging to the twilight as long as it could, but at last slowly rising like a bubble rushing towards the surface of a pond he awoke.

Consciousness returned just in time for him to see Mannyn dragging one of Elrond's sons down the passage, away from the room he was in. It looked like Elrohir... or was it Elladan? Legolas couldn't tell the twins apart in his groggy state. A moment later he realized he couldn't move either. His mind had come back to reality, but his body seemed to be following slower. He had pushed himself far further than was safe earlier and was reaping the results now.

He didn't know how much later it was that he finally managed to pull himself out of the bed. He automatically reached for a weapon, but found with a start that he was not wearing his own clothes, but some completely unfamiliar garments. Not stopping to try to make sense of it around his pounding head, or look for the missing weapons, Legolas followed the sound of angry, distraught voices up the passage.

Something was wrong, very wrong, and he knew it.

"No father! You know this is right, you can't ask me to let anyone else die in my place, least of all those I love more dear than life!" Legolas heard a voice he knew to be Aragorn's speaking vehemently from the room ahead. The young ranger's voice was still far too weak sounding for all his determination and the words chilled the elf prince's heart.

"I'm not afraid to die, but I cannot live knowing..."

Legolas could see Mannyn's back now, and Elrohir's head slumped back against his shoulder... he could also see the blood that was dripping down onto the floor at their feet.

Aragorn caught his father's eyes. "I'm ready," he whispered, begging Elrond to see in his eyes that it was the truth. "The choice isn't yours, I'm making it; it's my life to give! Let me go and never regret it. I'm ready."

The elf prince pressed himself back flat against the wall as he edged silently forward. He may have missed most of what had happened, but this bit of conversation was quite enough to let him know what was going on.

Mannyn cackled with wicked glee, very obviously having gone over the edge of sanity and deep into the cloudy dark of madness. "Time runs away like blood... so choose. Choose!"

Suddenly the threesome facing Mannyn saw Legolas' head appear over the man's shoulder. In one swift move, the prince reached around and grabbed the human's blood-covered knife hand, jerking it away from Elrohir's throat.

Mannyn started and half-turned, howling with inhuman rage and astonishment. With surprising strength for a human and a man his age, he knocked the weakened elf back against the wall and tried to twist his hand away from Legolas. The prince's head banged painfully back against the corner of the wall, sending pain lancing through his awareness. Elrohir's blood made everything slippery and hard to hang onto. The knife blade caught the inside of Legolas' forearm, cutting a deep grove through his sleeve and gashing him from elbow to wrist.

Elrond and Elladan were there an instant later. Elladan yanked Mannyn back; seizing his wrist and twisting it almost hard enough to break it, the angry elf made the human drop his knife.

Legolas half-sank to his knees, holding his injured arm to his chest, his weakened body screaming in protest at the sudden exertion he had forced upon it before it was ready.

Aragorn was moving slower than his brother and father and got to the spot a few moments later.

With a snarl, Mannyn threw Elrohir, who was still clutched in his other arm, into Aragorn, throwing the unsteady ranger off-balance as he tried to catch his brother and resulting in both of them tumbling backward.

Elrond caught both his sons before they hit the ground, steadying and letting them down gently, his fingers instantly seeking out the flowing wound at the base of Elrohir's neck. He had to stop the bleeding and stop it now.

For a moment Elladan's attention was distracted with concern for his brothers and Mannyn took advantage of that. Ripping free of the elf's inattentive grip he tossed his head back sharply, nailing Elladan square in the face with the back of his head and fleeing up the passage.

Elladan reeled back a pace, holding his bleeding nose and mouth with one hand before he recovered from the shock and took off up the passage after Mannyn.

Legolas pulled himself to his feet and hurried after them.

"Legolas!" Elrond called after him, but the prince did not hear, or if he did he did not choose to heed the warning. Elrond knew Legolas was not well yet and did not wish him to overtax himself, but the elf lord had his hands full with Elrohir right now.

They heard the front door open and shut several times, slamming with a bang and sending a freezing draft swirling through the house.

Elrond sighed softly as he pressed a clean, folded cloth against Elrohir's wound. "Ah Elbereth..." he whispered quietly as he worked. "Don't let Elladan do anything he will regret."

Aragorn looked up towards where his brother and his friend had disappeared and started to rise, but Elrond's voice stopped him. "No Estel, I need you here, help me with your brother."

Immediately Aragorn's attention was re-focused on the limp elf in his arms. He held Elrohir's head and shoulders while Elrond struggled to stop the deadly bleeding. It was harder than it should have been to staunch and Elrond's brow was creased in concern as he pulled away one soaked bandage and replaced it with another, seeking to pinch the vein on either side of the puncture with his skilled fingers. Yet he couldn't risk stopping all blood flow to Elrohir's brain or the young elf could end up permanently damaged. The wounded elf still did not move or respond to their worried entreaties, only his glazed eyes caught and held theirs.

"It's th-the belithral," Aragorn said with concern as he watched his brother's symptoms, blinking hard to clear the double vision creeping up on him. "That's why he's like this. Mannyn must have given him some. It does something to your blood..." the young ranger remembered all too well those hellish days on the mountain when even a split lip refused to stop bleeding for hours.

Elrond nodded in understanding. Pressing Aragorn's hand over the compress on his brother's wound, the elf lord quickly mixed up another hythinyns draught like he had used to detoxify Aragorn earlier.

"How long does it last Estel?" Elrond needed to know more about this drug, having only dealt with its waning effects on Aragorn and not knowing what it was like at full potency.

"It depends on the dose," Aragorn was trying hard to keep a clear head although a painful haze was creeping into his brain again. "Dyryn wanted me to be able to move, so after that first time he only gave me little amounts until my body had built up a bit of a tolerance to it and he started upping the dosage..." Aragorn pressed his eyes shut against the horribly fresh memories. "It causes complete paralysis for the first fifteen to twenty minutes, then, then you can move again, but every motion is a struggle, even blinking. That lasts for hours and hours. And it gives you waking nightmares, hallucinations," he finished quietly.

Elrond glanced with silent compassion at Aragorn's drawn face, imagining the kind of pain the young human must have been going through. "It's over Estel," he whispered gently as he administered the hythinyns to Elrohir. "And we're going to get your brother through this as well. I just hope..." he looked away.

"What?" Aragorn was not about to let the elder elf off that easy. "It's Mannyn and Elladan, isn't it?"

Elrond smiled, soft and sad, as he met the young man's eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly at his son's keen observation. "It's not that I do not wish justice for what that man has done..." Elrond glanced somewhat fiercely down at his bloodied, pale son and then back up at Aragorn, whose eyes were still haunted from the horror he had been through of late. "But... I fear for Elladan. His temper has always been hot, and after what happened to his mother it has only increased. If he kills Mannyn in the rage he is in now... it will wound his spirit deeply, perhaps forever... and then even if Elrohir lives, I may yet lose a son because of that madman," the elf lord swallowed hard and looked away. It was not a choice he could make for Elladan, no matter how badly he wanted to. The younger elf was going to have to choose for himself and live with that choice.

Aragorn laid his hand atop Elrond's on Elrohir's bandage and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We have to trust," he whispered softly. "That Elladan is stronger than that, and that he had a father who raised him to know the difference between justice and vengeance. And Legolas is with them... he will help if he can."

"Elladan don't!" Legolas placed himself between the elf and the human who was on his back in the snow, cackling with crazed madness despite having been half-smothered.

The two elves had pursued Mannyn out of the house and into the snow-covered courtyard. There, Elladan had caught up with the man and taken him down. Legolas had gotten there just in time to keep Elladan from throttling the life out of the old man.

"Get out of the way! You saw what he did to my brothers! I'm going to rip his heart out and feed it to the wargs!" Elladan shouted at Legolas over the howl of the wind. There was a fierce rage burning in the dark-haired elf's eyes that Legolas had never seen before in the twin's usually pleasant and playful face.

"Don't act before you think or you may regret it!" Legolas shook his head in concern. The prince shivered at the cold around them. His body was still critically weak and being out in the storm once more was quickly sapping whatever strength he had.

"Get out of my way!" Elladan shoved Legolas roughly and the prince stumbled, falling into the snow on top of his injured arm and staining the whiteness beneath him with his blood.

Legolas cried out softly, rolling over and clutching his arm, shivering violently from the freezing cold that was seeping back into his hurting body. He didn't feel strong enough to rise, but his pained blue eyes looked up and caught Elladan's raging grey ones.

Elladan stopped dead in his tracks. What was he doing? Was he so intent on his own revenge that he was willing to hurt Legolas to get it? What did that make him?

"When someone wrongs you Elladan, you have a choice..." his father's voice came back to the elf clearly. Elladan took a deep breath and reached his hand down to help Legolas rise. He knew there was only one choice to make, and it was not the one he had been pursing. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he pulled Legolas to his feet. "I'm sorry."

Mannyn had scrambled to his feet as soon as the elves' attention was away from him and bolted for the darkness of the estate's outlying buildings, laughing hysterically as he plunged into the freezing night.

Deep in the shadows ahead, the sharp elven eyes behind the fleeing man saw the glitter of yellow fangs and the darker blackness of large bodies, low to the ground.

"Mannyn! Stop! Don't go there!" Elladan and Legolas called after him, but the old man did not heed them and a moment later it was too late. The wargs, which the elves had seen prowling around on their way here, must have come in through the frozen-open gate the same as their own party had. The beasts sprang on Mannyn with a snarl as he ran heedlessly straight into the midst of their pack.

Neither of the elves had their bows with them and although they moved as quick as they could, by the time they broke up the wargs and sent them scattering away into the darkness, it was too late. Mannyn was already dead.

Elladan just stared for a moment, breathing hard. He suddenly found that he actually felt sorry for the old man, despite everything. The elf looked down at his own hands and closed his eyes, realizing how very close he had come to making the biggest mistake of his life.

Beside him, Legolas was almost gasping for breath, the cold air chilling his lungs and making them ache. The prince's legs buckled suddenly and he fell to his knees in the snow.

Stooping, Elladan quickly wrapped Legolas' good arm around his shoulder and once more supported the elf prince for the journey back into the house.

When the two elves entered the bedroom they found Elrohir laying on the bed, his wounds bandaged. The bleeding had stopped and Elrond was still bending over him. Aragorn half-leaned on the edge of the bed beside his brother and Dolmè, who had heard the commotion, was standing in the corner of the room with wide, concerned eyes.

Elladan eased Legolas into a chair and Aragorn made his way over quickly, wanting to look at the prince's injured arm.

"Stop it Strider, you look ready to fall over yourself, I'm fine, go sit down," Legolas tried to brush him off, but the ranger was stubborn even though he truly did not look at all well.

Elrond came over and took Legolas' arm from Aragorn, gently shooing the young man back to sit on the edge of the bed. Elrohir was out of danger and now they were simply waiting for the drug to completely leave his system and release him back to them.

As Elrond gently and expertly bound up Legolas' injury, his eyes sought Elladan's, almost fearing what he would find there. "Mannyn?" he asked quietly.

"He's dead," Elladan replied, equally soft. "But I did not kill him."

Elrond let his breath out slowly in a small gesture of relief and smiled at his son. Elladan returned the smile.

"The wargs got to him before we could stop them. I'll bring the body in, it should not be left like carrion for those foul beasts." Elladan said after a moment, turning to go back out. He hesitated, looking to Dolmè. "If there are no others who have a claim to the duty, I will see that he is buried as soon as the storm breaks."

Dolmè shook her head, speaking for the first time. "He's got no kin, not even no friends I fear. I'll make up a place for 'im to lie until then..." she paused. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry this had to happen to you all. I don't think any of you deserved it."

"It's not your fault Dolmè," Elrond assured gently, finishing with Legolas and rising. "And everything has worked itself out in the end. I'm only sorry that Mannyn brought this upon himself. Such a sad waste..."

A soft sound behind them made them all turn. Elrohir was stirring and Aragorn was bending over him. The young ranger looked up with a smile. "He's coming out of it."

Elrohir moaned softly, his hand going to his hurting neck. Elrond pushed his son's hand back down gently so he wouldn't disturb the bandages.

"All right, that is the *last* time I let Estel make the drinks..." he moaned with a weak grin at his little brother's concerned face. "Ooh, I feel worse than when I let you talk me into that stupid drinking game with doctored ale pints..." he stopped and glanced somewhat sheepishly at his father, whose eyebrows were raised and then back at Aragorn who was flushing in embarrassment. "Oh, I forgot, I wasn't supposed to mention that, was I?" he chuckled softly, wincing at the pain his mirth caused.

Aragorn laughed quietly. "Hey, it wasn't me this time, you were sleeping on the job!"

"Only because you wore us all out," Elrohir murmured good-naturedly. "Honestly Estel, you humans do lead exhausting lives..."

All of them laughed softly, glad that they were all alive, and together.

...80 years later...

The captor that stood over Jonath's king waved his bow impatiently. "Choose!" he yelled at the man that kneeled before him. For his part Aragorn did not flinch nor back down but the pain reflected in his eyes cut through the guard as he quietly crept closer to the glade opening.

The soldier watched as Aragorn buried his face in the shoulder of Legolas' cloak. It looked as though the elf were dead, he was so pale and still in the king's arms. Jonath and his contingent had moved stealthily down the embankment, easily picking up Eldarion's blood trail when they reached the base of the cliff. Morning had dawned and the bleak grey light it lent had been enough for the men to track the elf and the king. It had been no small thing to carry the dwarf down the steep incline as he had insisted upon going with them and the guards had repeatedly had to shush the short being as he incessantly complained about their method of transporting him.

"If you would like I will leave you right here and come back for you later or you can keep silent and my men will bring you with us. The choice is yours." Jonath had whispered fiercely into the scowling, scrunched up face of the dwarf, indicating that he would leave Gimli right on the side of steep path down. After his mild threat the dwarf had said no more but the displeasure was written in every line of his wrinkled brow.

Such thoughts were far from the captain's mind now though as he motioned his men to quietly surround the small glade. Once they had neared the enclosed glen, it had been easy to find their quarry as Dryryn's voice carried on the early morning breeze. The old bounty hunter's accomplices were so intent on the happenings with their employer and Gondor's king that they did not notice the royal guard until it was too late. None of them had a chance to warn Dyryn and he continued his tirade, threatening to kill either the king's son or the elf that Aragorn held tightly to him and Jonath's men cut them down quickly and silently.

Trying to size up the situation, the captain of the guard was taken by surprise as Gimli limped up next to him, brushing the soldier out of his way. Jonath glared at his second in command as Draecyn quickly moved forward to intervene, attempting to hold the smaller being back out of the way but it was too late. The dwarf had quickly taken in the situation and his gaze fastened on his dying friend in the middle of the glade.

"NO!" Gimli's heavily accented shout rang through the glen. Dropping his makeshift crutch, he stiffly stepped onto the edge of the hollow. Bracing himself on his good leg, the dwarf hefted his doubled headed axe and threw the heavy weapon into the glen with a shout akin to a war cry.

Surprised by the interruption, Dyryn turned at the sound of the dwarf's shout. Rage was etched on his face at being found out and hindered in his desires for vengeance. There was no time for the bounty hunter to move as the flashing blade of the axe flew end over end towards him. The axe head buried itself in his chest lifting him off the ground and throwing him feet across glade away from the man that knelt in the grass holding the elf prince.

Kolir's head jerked up in surprise, but before he could react one of the soldiers' arrows found his heart and he fell soundlessly, the bolt on his weapon never having the chance to release.

With a pained cry Gimli fell to the forest floor, grabbing his broken leg high up on his thigh and rocking back and forth, trying to stave the sweep of pain from the pressure he placed on it. Draecyn dropped quickly to the ground next to the small being, talking quietly to Gimli, unable to shift his gaze from the happenings in the middle of the glen.

Aragorn, shocked by the sudden turn of event stared speechlessly at his men. Legolas had lost consciousness and was not even aware that they were no longer in danger. Aragorn's tore his gaze from Gimli's pained glance and looked at the pale motionless face of the elf he held.

It all happened so fast it almost seemed surreal, and Aragorn could barely process that the threat that had been was no more. It didn't seem possible that it could have gone away so quickly. With his friend's life slipping away between his fingers, he couldn't even feel relieved just yet.

"Legolas?" Aragorn called softly, strands of hair plastered his face and fell into his eyes unheeded as he gently shook the elf. There was no response save the slight rise and fall of the prince's chest.

Gimli struggled to break free of Draecyn's gentle restraints, intent on entering the glen. "Legolas? Legolas!"

Jonath stepped carefully over the fallen dwarf and approached the king, cautiously.

Taking note of the intentions of his men and unsure if the clearing was safe Aragorn called out a warning to them, "Jonath! Do not enter, keep the men, back! There may be more traps, I do not know how many were set." He glanced about them wildly, trying to glimpse any trip wires that may still be hidden under the grass and leaves. Fear kept him rooted in his place.

Behind him Eldarion was vehemently shaking his head, trying to get the attention of the men. Tears streamed down his fair cheeks as he glanced at Dyryn's dead body. He couldn't get far enough away fast enough.

The young boy's movements caught the captain's eye and he relayed the message, "Eldarion says there are no more traps, my lord."

Aragorn turned quickly to look at his son. The youth's huge blue eyes were locked onto his and he slowly shook his head, "There are no more my son?"

Eldarion shook his head once more, a soft sob breaking through the gag.

Turning back to Jonath, Aragorn plead with him, "Then quickly, help us!"

Guards poured into the grassy hollow taking up a defensive ring as Jonath dropped into the grass in front of his king. Blood covered Aragorn's tunic and the captain was half-afraid that some of it was the man's. "Are you hurt?"

Aragorn's pain filled eyes raised to meet the others gaze, tears sparkled brightly on their rims, "No. No I am not. Please Jonath, get Eldarion down, please hurry, I think he's hurt." He glanced back at the boy; blood stained his chest and ran in rivulets down his wrists mixing with the rain that drizzled lightly on them all. He wanted to do it himself, but he had only one set of arms, and right now he still feared to release Legolas, lest the elf let go of life entirely.

With a curt nod Jonath quickly stood to his feet and crossed to stand in front of Eldarion as Draecyn took his place in the grass in front of Aragorn, gently easing the elf out of his lieges arms and examining the deep wounds he had sustained. Carefully they lay the elf on his side as Draecyn fingered the bolt that protruded from his back.

"It needs to come out my lord. He is unconscious it would be best to remove it quickly and now. I know not if there was poison on it." The soldier spoke softly.

With a simple nod Aragorn agreed and pulled Legolas against him as Draecyn gripped the ugly black shaft of the bolt. Taking a deep breath and bracing his other hand against Legolas' shoulder the guard swiftly pulled the weapon free, placing the arrow carefully on his pack so he could test it for poisons later.

The soldiers were buzzing around Legolas now, pressing folded cloths tightly against his wounds. Aragorn touched his friend's clammy forehead softly. "Dartho Legolas..." he quietly whispered for the elf to hold on before turning to look to his son.

Jonath had finally finished removing Eldarion's bonds and the prince pushed brusquely past the captain. Unwilling to let the man look him over, the boy rushed to his father's side and fell into the king's waiting arms.

Aragorn held the frightened child tightly, fearful himself of the way their situation had almost ended, of the lives of the ones he had almost lost. His son and his lifetime friend, the most priceless treasures he had... and yet he still may lose Legolas. Stopping the negative thoughts, he gently pushed his son back, carefully looking the boy over, noting the cut to his palm and the deep 'x' carved over his heart. Swiftly taking the boy's arm and pushing his sleeve up, Aragorn was relieved to find that there were no cuts, no marks. Dyryn had not used the belithral on Eldarion as he had threatened.

However, the boy was trembling.

"You are hurt. Where?" The young prince simply shook his head no, unable to trust his voice.

Pulling his son back tightly against his chest Aragorn whispered softly, rocking the boy back and forth, "It's alright. He'll never hurt you again, I swear it. I am so sorry Eldarion. So sorry..." he pressed his eyes closed. "I never meant for this to happen."

Gimli was inconsolable and his fierce stubbornness made it difficult for the guards to see to his leg and make sure he had not wounded himself further.

"Aragorn! Aragorn, how is Legolas?" He swatted the hands away from him that tried to hold him still, "Get me up! Get me up now I say! I need to be there. Aragorn!"

Unable to deal with all that had just happened and the requests being laid on him, Aragorn caught Jonath's attention and motioned to the dwarf.

"Please bring him in here before he hurts himself further or one of the men. He is only upset. Let him see that Legolas lives and it will be well." The king sighed and smiled slightly, "Otherwise he will never settle down."

Turning his attention back to his son, Aragorn eased the boy onto the grass next to him as Gimli dropped heavily down on the other side of Draecyn, his thick stubby hands gently reaching out to Legolas.

"Legolas?" His unanswered question more of a soft choked whisper as he took in the blood that covered the elf's tunic and the unnatural paleness of his friend's face. It was just as he feared. Legolas would give of himself, his own life, before he let anything happen to anyone else.

"Damn elf..." the dwarf murmured inconsolably, his rough fingers wrapping tightly about the prince's graceful, cold hand. "What do I keep telling you? You never listen to me, never... Legolas, Legolas don't do this to me." The last was so soft it was almost inaudible.

Draecyn quietly bandaged the wounds using strips of cloth from a spare tunic that he found in his pack. He moved aside so the dwarf could scoot in closer.

"You mustn't die." Gimli continued, softly talking to the elf. He turned huge dark eyes on Aragorn, imploring the king known for his healing talents, "You can't let him die. Please don't let him die."

Aragorn reached out a trembling hand and gently gripped Gimli's shoulder, it surprised him how spent he truly was. "I promise I will do all in my power to keep him with us." He vowed, dropping his hand to the elf's face, "Legolas, you cannot go my friend. You cannot go."

But Legolas was far beyond the reach of their words, or the touch of their sorrow, treading a line that became more and more blurred the further away it led him.

A soldier ran into the glen and breathlessly reported that they had secured the area. Dyryn and his men were all dead and there was no further threat. Upon hearing they were safe, Jonath called his men to him, "Break up the camp on the cliff and set it up down here. The wounded will never make the trip up the mountain face."

Aragorn stood slowly to his feet, followed by Eldarion who kept closely to his side. The young prince glanced once more at the body of his captor and the look of fear that passed his face was not lost on his father. "Jonath no." Aragorn corrected quietly, "Not here." He glanced around glade with haunted eyes, his own old memories and fears dogging his thoughts. "Let us move a fair pace away. And..." He glanced at his old tormentor, "and have the men, bury the dead. I have no more wish to remember them."

Stooping down, the king gently eased his hands under the rotund dwarf's arms and helped his friend into a standing position, retrieving his dropped crutch and patting the worried dwarf compassionately on the back as he helped him move out of the soldiers way.

Nodding sympathetically at the king's request Jonath motioned his men to remove Dyryn's body from the glen. "We'll set up camp north of where we descended from the plateau, it is not far from here and we can easily carry Legolas there."

At his instruction several guards began cutting down saplings from the surrounding forest that closed in about the glen, swiftly creating a crude, makeshift litter to carry Legolas on.

Jonath pulled Draecyn aside as Aragorn dropped back down next to Eldarion who had just finished helping the soldier carefully bind Legolas' wounds. "Set up a tent for the king and Legolas." Jonath whispered.

"I fear he will not linger through the night." Draecyn responded, his voice low to match his superior's.

"Do not say such things." Jonath pulled the man away from the small family that knelt on the grass, "The king is an expert healer, if anyone can save that elf it is Lord Aragorn."

"The wound is grievous..." the other was shaking his head. He didn't like to say it, but he had honestly never seen a man recover from a wound as bad as the elf's.

The captain of the guard glanced over the soldier's shoulders and nodded, "Just go quickly, see that there is a place for them out of the elements and away from curious eyes."

Draecyn quickly stumbled out of the glade, commandeering help on his way to their new campsite.

Aragorn glanced sidelong at his son. The youth was trying valiantly to control his breathing around the soft sniffles that caught in his throat. "Come here." The king held the boys face against his own temple. "Quiet now. It will be well."

"It will not." Eldarion's words were mere whispers but Aragorn heard him clearly, "It never will be again. It is my fault that Uncle Gimli's leg is broken and now... because of me, Uncle Legolas will die."

"No one is dying tonight." Aragorn moved back and stared hard into his son's eyes, "Do you hear me. No one." He glanced quickly at Gimli who was watching him intently. "And it was neither your fault nor yours Master dwarf." The king interrupted as the smaller being tried to speak. "This was something that has followed Legolas and I through the years although we thought it over long ago. If it is anyone's fault, the fault lies with us and not either one of you."

He stared them both down smiling softly.

"Is there nothing I can do to help?" Gimli questioned.

"Yes. Pray the valar spare him. I will do all I can in my power to help him, but in the end, Legolas must decide if he wills to stay with us and fight or leave for other shores." Aragorn looked down at the elf laying so still upon the makeshift litter. He placed his hand gently over the elven heart and let his fingers feel the beating of it. A quiet laugh escaped his lips as he thought back to a time now long past when the elf had complained of Aragorn's over-attentiveness whenever Legolas was ill. His quiet voice echoed in the king's memories.

/"I suppose it should be comforting to know that if I wake up in a strange place, feeling like a cave troll used me for an anvil, and someone's got their arms all over me, it's probably you."/

"Rest my friend. I will wake you in the morning." He spoke softly to Legolas.

"Father? What is it?"

"Memories. Memories from a long time ago, something that happened in the past when we were both much younger." Aragorn smiled at the boy.

"Will you tell me someday?"

"Yes, I promise to tell you as soon as we are out of this." The king's attention was diverted as Jonath quietly approached them. "My lord the camp is nearly set up, we should leave this place."

Aragorn nodded silently at his captain and stood to his feet as the soldiers moved in next to Legolas and carefully lifted the stretcher between them.

With help from Aragorn and Eldarion, Gimli was eased back to his feet once more and followed his friend out of the glen.

"My pack with the herbs and healing potions, was it brought down also?" Aragorn grabbed Jonath by the elbow steering him back to the center of the glade before carefully picking up the bolt that Draecyn had removed from Legolas' shoulder.

"Yes my lord." The captain of the guard nodded slightly confused.

"Good, there is testing kit in it for poisons. Have the bolt tested and let me know the results." He passed the black arrow to Jonath before quickly trailing the others to the new site.

Aragorn jogged up next to Eldarion, catching up with his family. He pulled the boy close to him and they walked in silence next to Legolas. Reaching over his friends body, Aragorn placed his hand over the elf's heart, content to feel the slight rise and fall of Legolas' breathing, it calmed his fears to know that his friend still remained with them. There was always hope, something he had learned early in his life.

Jonath caught up with the others and walked for a spell quietly beside Eldarion. Aragorn glanced over the boy's head and smiled at his guard, "Thank you Jonath."

The soldier nodded slowly before piercing his king with a penetrating stare. It was not unlike the look Aragorn used to receive from his adoptive father Elrond, when he had a lecture in mind. "But when we get back my liege we are going to have a serious talk about *why* it is that they call me your personal guard and what you will tell the queen so she doesn't have me removed to jail warden."

The lighthearted admonishment worked and Aragorn laughed and shook his head. "Oh I hadn't even thought about what I will tell Arwen." He glanced down at Eldarion who was watching him closely. "Or how will we will ever hide the fact that I let you get hurt."

"Its just a scratch." The boy smiled brilliantly.

"A scratch! You sound just like your uncle Legolas!"

"Well between the five of us, we'll come up with a right good tale." Gimli piped up from the other side of the litter. He was working hard to keep his spirits up and believe the best. None of them could bear to linger on the fact that Legolas might yet die... they had been through so much together both in the recent and far away past... it just wasn't conceivable.

"That we will have to." Jonath grumbled lightly.

"At least we have time to think about it." Aragorn's gaze fell back to Legolas and he sobered once more.

"Do you mean to never tell mother the truth father?"

Arching an eyebrow in question he glanced across at Gimli who saved the king from having to answer, "Well young one, its not often wise to tell the women what you've been up to in detail per se, when you've been out doing the work that belongs to the males of your kind. See they just want to know that you've returned home and had a good time. Details are for later when the scary parts are well over and they are not displeased with you about anything."

His answer provoked laughter from the king and the soldiers that ringed the small grouping of people and the guards began to quietly reminisce and tell stories about their own dealings with the women in their lives and the messes they had had to try to gracefully talk themselves out of.

In the chatter, the king and his friends were temporarily forgotten and Aragorn reached across Legolas and rested his hand on Gimli's shoulder. The dwarf was starting to slow as the reached the edges of camp. Despite his lightheartedness, the dwarf was obviously still very concerned about the elf. "Worry not Gimli, Legolas is strong. You came at just the right time my friend, I don't know what we would have done had you not been there."

Eldarion noticed that his uncle had slowed and he moved from under his father's protective arm to walk alongside the dwarf, tucking his shoulder under Gimli's and smiling at the dwarf, "Father's right, it'll be okay uncle Gimli. I'm so glad you came when you did."

Deep red blushed the dwarf's cheeks and he tried to redirect the conversation away from himself, growling good-naturedly in embarrassment at all the attention. The small party surrounded closely by the contingent of the kings personal guards walked slowly under the wet sodden trees and out onto the wide open plain where the camp was still being set up. To the east the sun could barely be seen through the clouds as the storm began to break up.

The light from the campfires softly lit the interior of the makeshift tent that Aragorn's men had quickly constructed for he and Legolas. The dim lighting made the elf look even paler than he was.

Aragorn brushed the backs of his fingers against the prince's cheek. Legolas was cold to the touch and the king's breathing hitched slightly as the implications that his friend might not survive this ordeal, even though all the danger be over now, were driven even more deeply into his heart. He had done all he could for his friend; the rest was up to Legolas. As the night wore on however, it had become more and more painfully apparent that the elf was slipping away from them despite all that Aragorn could think to do for him.

The king sat crossed legged on the ground, a wadded up bedroll across his bent legs served as a makeshift pillow for Eldarion, who lay asleep in his father's lap. Aragorn absently stroke the boy's tangled dark hair.

His thoughts rolled through the day's events and he closed his eyes tightly against the fear and sorrow that constricted around his heart. Eldarion was fine. Besides a few cuts and bruises the boy was unharmed. He leaned down and buried his face in the young man's hair gently kissing the top of his head. Eldarion stirred and pressed closer to his father. It had been with nervous reservation that he had asked to stay with Aragorn that night, his large eyes looking shyly up at his father through the wayward strands of his unkempt hair. Aragorn would never have refused him and he was glad that he had not. He needed the company now more than ever.

Shifting slightly, the king reached out for his pack and retrieved a small sack. He dumped the contents of the bag into his hand. The dried grasses and flowers spilling over his palm. Blowing gently on the athelas he added the herbs to a small pot of the mix boiling away merrily near Legolas' head. The sweet smell filled the tent and washed away the ache in his heart, soothing and comforting. Eldarion smiled softly in his sleep and relaxed and even Legolas' shallow breathing seemed to lose its ragged edge. If it did nothing else for the situation, at least the herb was a calming influence.

"Legolas," He spoke softly in the grey tongue to his unconscious friend, "you cannot leave me. It is I who am supposed to go before you. It just can't be your time. Do you hear me?" He rested his free hand on the elf's forehead. "Come back to me Legolas. Come back to the light." Letting his head fall forward the king allowed the tears to slip from under his eyelids. "Please." He whispered, not even knowing if anyone heard.

Legolas was finally at peace. It was quiet here where he was now and it did not hurt as it had before. He lay still in the calmness that surrounded him, allowing the blanket of comfort to smother him with its soothing silence. He had a choice and he knew he must make it soon but he was unwilling to leave this place. Relaxing further in the calmness he ignored the quiet pleadings that barely touched his ears as he slowly let go.

Aragorn watched as the elf's breathing lessened, each intake more shallow than the last. Legolas had chosen. The elf was dying.

A small sob escaped the human's lips as he leaned forward over his friend, "No." He gently shook the elf, unwilling to let him leave. Unwilling to believe that their long friendship should end like this.

"Legolas, no." His tears dropped onto the elf's tunic, staining the forest green suede an even darker shade. "Listen to me..." But his voice faltered and he could not go on.

Snatches of a tune that he had heard long ago on such a night, when he had had to choose between the painful embrace of life, or the temptingly sweet oblivion of death drifted back to him, words of warmth, a life-filled song full of the images of light and home and he began to hum the simple, sweet melody, softly singing the words of the parts he could remember.

Penetrating the comfortable oblivion that was pulling him in, something stirred Legolas; something woke him and wouldn't let him rest any longer. It was time, it was time to go, or to stay. He had to decide. He pushed away the voices in his memory, unwilling to choose. His father and mother had now both gone on to the undying lands. His people where nearly all gone, had left middle earth long ago. The voices lied to him, pulling him back, telling him there was no home to return to, nothing worth fighting for on the other side of all that pain. So who was it that sang to him and why did the song sound so sad when those words should have come from a merry heart? The elf tried not to think, tried to simply block out the longing that he heard. There was no reason to go back, that was the way of pain, he knew, he had come from there.

"Legolas, please..." Soft broken words clearly cut through his indifference, breaking the song for a beat before it was taken up again.

"Estel." The word slipped softly from his lips. He was wrong, he did have a reason to return. Aragorn lived yet in middle earth and he had left Trelan and Raniean with the elves in Ithilien. They were not all of them gone and he was not alone. There was much to be done, more to return to. The darkness began to recede, draining away like rain water. He had chosen. There was no reason to remain here in the shadow.

"Legolas?" Aragorn leaned forward, trying not to waken Eldarion. He was sure that he heard the elf speak his name. "Legolas, come back."

The comfort of the softly spoken words helped lead the elf back to consciousness. The touch of his friend guided him through the pain to waking. Aragorn's worried face was the first thing the elf saw as he tried to focus his eyes. He grimaced with the pain of the wounds he had sustained earlier and his breathing caught slightly. "Estel?"

"You live." Aragorn's voice was so full of relief he almost choked on the words.

"I could not go."

"You almost did."

Legolas nodded slightly, "Yes. I almost did."

The smile on the human's face warmed the elf's heart. "But I couldn't leave. You sing horribly my friend and you have the words all wrong." Legolas laughed softly, around the pain.

"You prissy elf." Tears flooded the man's eyes and he leaned over and kissed the elf gently on his forehead. "I just can't lose you yet."

"You aren't. I swear, I'll stay." Legolas held the man against him, his hand holding the back of Aragorn's head gently.

When the king slowly sat up, Eldarion moved in his sleep, murmuring in agitation caught in a dream somewhere. Aragorn gently quieted the boy, laying his arm around the slim shoulders until Eldarion stilled.

"How is Eldarion? Is he all right?" Legolas turned his head to watch the two, smiling as the father comforted the young man.

Aragorn returned the smile knowingly, "He is fine. He suffered only cuts and bruises. Dyryn did not drug him or torture him. One of them cut his chest," The king lifted the boy's tunic to carefully inspect the bandage that rested over the young man's heart. "He will have a scar but he will be fine."

Legolas tried to move, but the jarring aggravated the damage that his body had sustained and he bit his lips to keep from crying out.

Aragorn carefully grabbed the edges of the bedroll Eldarion's head rested on and moved the boy out of his lap, turning his full attention on the elf. "Here now, stay still." He pressed his hands lightly down on the prince's tunic and held him in place. His fingers gently turning back the bandages that covered the holes in the elf's body. "Do not move my friend. Your body needs time to heal. Your wounds are not good."

Shaking his head in regret, the king's eyes met the blue ones locked onto his, "I am so sorry." He whispered in elvish, "I should have listened to you. You were right. None of this would have happened if I had not been so stubborn."

"Estel," Legolas laid his hand on the human's shoulder as the king bent over him, "You could not have done otherwise, it was Eldarion. If it had been anyone else that Dyryn took, things would have ended up differently. That is why he took your son. He knew you would not think straight in regards to your own." The elf glanced at the boy sleeping soundly in the corner of the tent. "It was worth it."

Aragorn glanced back at his son, a smile creeping onto his face unconsciously, "It was. Thank you." He turned to gaze back down at his friend, "But it's even better now that you are back."

The sounds of voices had alerted Jonath from his post just outside the entrance and he cautiously peeked his head into the tent. "Are you alright my king?"

Aragorn turned towards the captain of his guard, "Yes Jonath," He moved slightly aside so the warrior could see that the elf was watching him also, "Legolas had decided to stay."

A huge smile split Jonath's face, and he sighed in relief, "Well good. Because I know of one very grumpy dwarf who has been highly agitated for the past few hours."

"Where is Gimli?" Legolas questioned, "Is he recovering?"

Jonath looked guiltily at Aragorn who motioned the man out with his hand.

"What?" Legolas turned worried eyes on his friend, "What happened?"

"Nothing really." Aragorn tried to hide the smile that crept onto his face, his act of feigned innocence reminded the elf of their early years.

"Estel..."

Aragorn laughed lightly, "I had him drugged. I have discovered that Dwarves become nearly unbearable when they are worried. He was very cranky Legolas and he was giving my men fits and I was afraid he would only injure himself further. So I put some of those sleeping herbs my father was so fond of using on us in his ale." The king looked guiltily at the elf, "He's been asleep for some time now and the camp has had some peace."

"Strider!" The elf stared wide-eyed at the man in shock, "I cannot believe you did that. You know he'll never let you live it down."

"He doesn't have to know I did it." The human leaned over the elf smiling. "Now come on and help me here." He gently slid his hands under the elf's back and eased the prince over onto his side, "I need to take a look at the wound in your shoulder."

Carefully he tended the wound, allowing the elf to lean against him for support. Repacking the puncture with athelas he helped Legolas lay back down. The elf still looked too pale for him, but he returned the pained smile that graced the fair being's face. "I am so glad you are back."

With great weariness the elf sighed, allowing himself to slip back into sleep. "So am I Strider, so am I." He whispered.

"Rest my friend."

"Wake me in the morning?" The elf replied, the old request causing the king to laugh quietly.

"First light." Aragorn answered.

With a soft laugh the elf fell back to sleep.

They had stayed on near Isengard at the foot of the embankment for several weeks while Legolas healed enough to travel. Eldarion's wounds were barely visible now, mere scars that were mending themselves. He healed even faster than his father, with his mother's elven blood in him.

He had grown restless and the fears that Dyryn's captivity had invoked in him receded into the past with each day they remained. Aragorn was glad to see them go and encouraged the youth to accompany Draecyn and his men on their hunting and scouting forays. The king stood outside the tent he had occupied with Legolas for the last month, his arms crossed across his chest as he watched his son ride off with the soldiers. A smile lit the man's face as he barely heard his son dare the older men to a race and spurred his horse on without heeding Draecyn's warnings. He shook his head ruefully, so much of himself in the boy.

"That one will turn your hair grey." The soft jibe at his elbow caused Aragorn to jump slightly and turn towards the voice, although he already knew who it was. There were few save Arwen who could approach him so quietly and not have him notice.

"That he will." He laughed with a sigh.

Draecyn turned in his saddle and fixed Jonath with a pleading glare, raising his hands in defeat.

"Go after him!" The captain of the guard was yelling at his men, "Don't let him out of your sight!"

"He has too much of his father in him." Legolas leaned heavily on a piece of wood that Aragorn had found and smoothed down. The branch's natural growth had formed a perfect 'y', and the elf had been using the crutch as his body healed.

Aragorn turned and looked his friend over, his gaze intense, judging for himself whether or not the elf should even be up.

"Do not mother me, Strider." Legolas reverted to elvish, using his friends old nickname. "I will never get well with both you and Gimli hovering over me constantly."

"My, someone is very grouchy today." Aragorn tried to suppress his smile.

"Someone would like to return home."

Aragorn laughed aloud, his mirth contagious, "Oh if only father could see you now. He would never let me live it down." Aragorn frowned in mock consternation at the elf, perfectly imitating his elven father, "Just once I would very much like to see you come walking in under your own power."

The imitation was nearly perfect and caused the elf to laugh lightly, "Now if only you had pointed ears as you spoke those words, I would swear by the valar that your father stood here."

Aragorn cast his gaze back out to the plains, glimpsing the hunting party far on the other side of the rolling meadowlands. A sigh escaped his lips, "I miss him Legolas." It had been years now, since the Elven Lord had gone over the sea, along with Galadriel, Gandalf, Frodo and many of the elven kind. Yet part of Aragorn would always miss his adopted father. He was glad that Legolas and his brothers had not chosen to leave yet.

The elf's hand tightened on his friend's shoulder. "There was so much he knew. So much he taught me that I have even now forgotten. I almost lost you. I know he never would have made that mistake."

Quietness descended on the camp and Legolas let the easy silence hang between them. Lost in thought Aragorn shook his head.

"You will see him again Aragorn." The elf's soft voice broke the stillness.

"Perhaps." Aragorn dropped his gaze and turned towards his friend, "But I was not under the impression that elves visited the Halls of Mandos." He smiled sadly.

Legolas simply shrugged, the smile that tugged at his lips causing the human to glower at him. "What know you that I don't?"

"Did I say I knew anything?" The elf's feigned innocence was unconvincing.

"You know sometimes Legolas I could swear you spent too much time with Gandalf, you begin to sounds like him at times." He walked over near the fire and helped the elf to sit on one of the large stones that ringed the pit.

"Then I will take that as a compliment, for Mithrandir is very wise."

Aragorn could not contain his laughter as he taunted his friend, "I did not say you were wise, I said you sounded like that old man!"

Trying to feign indignation Legolas gave a soft snort at the retort and easily changed the subject, "But truly I am ready to go home and I am well enough to travel. Let us be off tomorrow. It is time we returned."

"Very well, change the subject again. But one of these days I will get a straight answer out of you, you Silvan elf." Aragorn laughed, noting the misdirection and allowing the prince to have his secrecy as he sat down next to the elf.

"Oh don't worry my old friend. One day I will speak plainly and then you will understand, although I truly think you will not believe me even then!"

With a shake of his head, Aragorn picked up Legolas' original train of thought. Pressing the elf for information he was not ready to give was about as fruitful as asking Gandalf the White questions. "Are you sure you are travel ready? The road is long."

"I am sure. I would return home to Ithilien and see how Trelan and Rainean fare." He noted the way the man dropped his gaze and nodded slightly. "After I winter with you of course."

Aragorn's face brightened. "I have missed you. Your work in Ithilien is deeply appreciated. But your friendship is what I treasure."

The smile that broke across the elf's face was brilliant but he was interrupted by a commotion on the far side of camp as a horse came tearing into the encampment riderless.

"Is that not Draecyn's mount?" Legolas questioned, unable to stifle the giggles as Jonath grabbed the steed's reigns and vaulted in the saddle.

"Not again!" The captain of the guard muttered darkly before glancing at the king. "My lord it seems your son has again won a bet against my men. DO NOT leave this camp my liege. Hunting down one of you is enough to bring me to the end of my wits." With that warning he spurred the animal back the way it had come.

"I say we leave now and take a swift little trip back to Orthanc while he's gone. It will take us no time to get back there." Aragorn leaned over next to the elf and whispered conspiratorially. He had no fear for Eldarion; the guards would keep the boy more than safe, even if they did want to kill him occasionally.

"You will be the death of him, you know that." Legolas just shook his head, grinning.

"Its good for him. Hones his tracking skills, gives him something to complain about and it gives me no small amount of joy." Aragorn grinned wickedly, "What say you?"

"You are horrible, you know that?"

"Where do you think Eldarion gets it from?" He stood from his seat and whistled a shrill piercing note. Brego cantered into the camp and stopped near his master, nuzzling the human. "Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" Gimli's booming voice carried across the quiet encampment and elf and human turned as one, shushing the short being.

"Well if you are planning on escaping this retched plain then take me with you. I have grown tired of flat meadows." The dwarf grumped.

"I suggest we take him with us or he will most definitely give us away." Legolas whispered in Aragorn's ear as he stood slowly behind the king.

"Speak plainly and do not whisper elf, its rude you know."

"Master dwarf, Legolas was only looking out for your welfare. Are you sure you are able to ride?" Aragorn taunted.

With an irritated harrumph the dwarf stomped the foot of his previously broken leg and pierced the two friends with an even glare, "I need no looking out for and I am as fit as the next person to ride a horse. Where is it?!" He glanced around them.

Legolas laughed at the small being that he come to love as deeply as any family member. He remembered the first time he had met the dwarf and how much he had held Gimli in contempt. Taking the proffered reigns that Aragorn held out for him, he smiled as the king moved off to a picket line and picked out the shortest of the fighting warhorses he could find, leading the stallion back to the rocks that ringed the firepit.

"If you want to accompany us master dwarf, you are going to have to get on this steed by yourself. Legolas is in no shape to help you up or sit with you and I can no longer toss you my friend." Aragorn raised an eyebrow at the glare the dwarf turned on him.

"Toss him?" Legolas asked inquisitively, "When have you ever tossed him?"

"Now! Now see here!" Gimli stomped forward, "You promised you would never tell the elf!" he stormed at the human.

"And I have not my friend." Aragorn smiled wickedly at the dwarf, "Now quickly mount this beast before we are caught or I will!"

"You tossed him?" Legolas glanced between the human and the dwarf. "Where was I when this happened?"

"You were..." Aragorn struggled to contain his laughter as the dwarf climbed onto the rock next to the horse and clumsily clambered into the saddle, "well you were preoccupied at the time." He handed the reigns to Gimli who snatched them away from the man.

"No more questions!" The king stopped them both from bickering as he mounted Brego. "Now quickly up behind me," he reached down and helped the elf to vault onto the horses bareback behind him, "before Jonath returns and we are caught."

"Ah so this is a secret?"

"Yes Gimli." Legolas answered, his tone like that of one who was speaking to a child. He wrapped his slender arms around Aragorn's waist and glanced over at the dwarf as the King eased his horse into a gentle trot.

"So where is it that we are going?" Gimli finally asked when they were well away from the camp.

"We, master dwarf are going back to Orthanc, one last time. I would like to see its gardens again and perhaps walk through its halls now that it no longer bears the stench of evil that once held it sway." Aragorn answered softly as though lost in thought.

Legolas leaned around the human's and shoulder and tightened his grip on the man's waist, gently bringing Aragorn back to the present, "What are you thinking of?" He asked softly in elvish not bothering to translate his words for their dwarvish companion who rode next to them.

"I was thinking of priceless treasures. Their value and their rarity." He spoke common so that Gimli could follow their conversation.

The dwarf glanced at the mithril circle that sat on the king's brow, its beautifully crafted gem held fast to the precious metal glowed brightly in the sunlight. "Aye and we found many of those in that spire of Saruman's."

Aragorn turned in his seat allowing his mount to have his head as he glanced at the dwarf and then turned to look over his shoulder at the elf that sat behind him. "No Gimli, those were not the treasures I was speaking of. For everything that was in Orthanc was made by the hands of a human or an elf or a dwarf and can be remade. I was thinking of those things that cannot be remade, that once lost are lost for an eternity." He paused and gazed back at the growing tower and its encompassing walls that loomed before them, thinking through his emotions before speaking again, "I meant you. And Legolas and Eldarion. And even Jonath. I meant our friends and loved ones. They are our most priceless treasures." He smiled over his shoulder as Legolas tightened his grip on the man's waist and leaned forward to glimpse the human's eyes. "Would you not agree?" He asked meeting Legolas' steady open gaze.

"That I would." The elf replied softly in elvish. He unclasped his right hand from Aragorn and reached out towards the dwarf riding next to them, repeating himself softly in common, "That I would."

Gimli's small thick hand laid gently against the elf's upturned palm. "So would I my friends, so would I."

A trumpet blast from the camp behind them broke the moment and Aragorn burst out laughing. "That is Jonath," he replied to the curious glances of the others. "It is his new way of letting me know he knows I am gone and of alerting the others." Aragorn spurred his stead on, "Quickly, let's make the gate before he comes to drag us back."

"You know Arwen will never stand for that near the palace." Legolas leaned forward and spoke into the man's ear.

"I know!" Aragorn glanced back, "The next time we sneak away, we are taking it with us!"

The laughter of the three friends broke across the gardens of Isengard, echoed by the trees that grew there, happy to once again be enjoyed by other living beings. A flock of myntails burst from the foliage on their right as they skidded to a stop near the steep stairs of Orthanc.

Aragorn glanced straight up the side of the dark shaft that pierced the sky. Thoughts of the near tragedies they had faced fell away and he leant his arm to Legolas as the elf slid off the horse and started up the steps. "Not so creepy anymore is it Strider?" He teased.

"Not now that there is firewood for the fireplaces no!" He laughed; sliding off of Brego's broad back before joining Legolas who was helping Gimli off his horse.

The small dwarf grabbed their forearms and did not let them go when they had lowered him to the ground. "You are right Aragorn, friends ARE the greatest treasures of Middle Earth. I am sorry to say it has taken this dwarf far too long to realize that." He touched a stubby finger to the gem on the king's circlet. "When all the jewels in the mines have been found we will still have each other."

"Truer spoken than you realize master elf." Legolas tightened his grip on the dwarf's arm.

"And what do you know that I don't?" Gimli squinted up at the elf.

"Don't ask." Aragorn laughed and wrapped one arm around Legolas shoulders, turning the elf towards the stairs as he draped his other arm down across Gimli's shoulders, "I have asked him the same thing and he would keep his secret so don't even try. He says when the time is right."

"Is that so?" the dwarf gazed around the human.

Averting the questions he could not answer just yet, Legolas smiled wickedly, "Now tell me master dwarf what is this with allowing Strider to throw you?"

Gimli stammered as Aragorn dragged them both up the steps with him, going slowly to accommodate Legolas' injuries and Gimli's pace.

"Well I'll tell you when you tell me about your time in Moria!" the dwarf spit out, finally recalling something about the elf that seemed to bother Legolas as much as his own secrets.

"I thought you had forgotten about that." Legolas rolled his eyes and pierced Aragorn with an irritated glare.

Seeing that he was suddenly caught between the two and had been the protagonist in both cases Aragorn swiftly danced up the steps ahead of his friends. "Last one in has to fetch the firewood!" He called back down to them.

Legolas stopped on the step he was on as Aragorn disappeared into the halls of Orthanc. "So very much like the Strider I have always known." He smiled and glanced at Gimli.

"Aye." The dwarf laughed, "Of the three of us... I think he never grew up."

"That he didn't and for that I am glad." Legolas glanced sidelong at the dwarf. "Last one in..." he repeated and nimbly raced up the steps despite the pull on his injuries. His laughter echoed the halls as he called out for Aragorn, trying to follow his friend.

Gimli stood where he was his gaze fastened on the open doors, his thoughts years away. Slowly he nodded his head, it was good to have friends that never tired of his company. With a happy sigh he climbed the last few steps and stopped on the threshold. "That's fine! Its always the dwarf that get the short end of the stick!" He called into the spiral of Orthanc.

The laughter of a human and the light musical mirth of an elf drifted down to him from the upper levels. He smiled to himself; yes friends were worth it all.

Epilogue:

When the blizzard finally passed, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas and Aragorn returned to Rivendell, leaving Dolmé and her family in charge of Mannyn's now ownerless house. Elrond sent a message to Mirkwood via carrier-hawk to let Thranduil and the prince's worried friends know that Legolas was all right and would be spending the remainder of the winter with them until the pass through the mountains became less perilous. The winter was much longer than usual, but when the snows finally melted, Legolas said his farewells and journeyed home.

That same spring, Gandalf came to Rivendell and Aragorn went away with him for a time, and it was the beginning of many long adventures that those two had together.

80 years later, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Eldarion and a highly un-amused captain Jonath did eventually return to Minas Tirith. Aragorn wore the recovered Elendilmir on his brow and there was great celebration and rejoicing among the people of Gondor at the return of the long lost ancient treasure.

"Ada!" a small, dark-haired bundle of joy and beauty ran across the courtyard and threw herself into her father's arms. Aragorn swept his daughter off her feet and twirled her in the air, making her shriek in delight. Arwen was right behind, embracing first her husband, then her son.

Legolas and Gimli, both almost completely healed, smiled at one another over the reunion.

Aragorn held his daughter close, watching Eldarion protest good-naturedly as his mother fussed over him a little. Legolas caught his friend's eyes. It was truly as they had spoken of before. These were the true treasures. Their family, their friends... forever.

"Aragorn, what happened to Eldarion?" Arwen straightened up, her fingers still gently resting on the faint scar that was visible through the open neck of his tunic.

Aragorn froze, his smile a trifle too innocent. "That's... a very long story." He looked to his friends for help.

Legolas just grinned wickedly at the human as he saw the look that Arwen was giving him. "You are in so much trouble," he mouthed silently at Aragorn.

The King of Gondor and Arnor rolled his eyes. What else was new?

THE END

A/N The next story is called The Stars Of Harad

Summary: When Aragorn falls in love with Arwen, it seems that he has done the one thing that could ever divide he and his elven family. Certain that his home is his no longer, Aragorn leaves with the rangers, attempting to forget the heartache of all he has lost... What he did not count on was losing his memory and forgetting *everything*.

Now, to find him, Legolas must join the very men who have captured and enslaved his friend, he must be one of them... and he must pay the dreadful penalty when their confidence is broken.
But if Aragorn cannot remember, cannot trust the elf he no longer knows... will it all have been in vain?

This story is also 2 chapters long, but I am afraid that I am only able to post in 2 days, I am sorry.

XXX

See you soon

Rae