Here is the next chapter. Thank you all so much for the reviews. I send the replies just minutes ago. I am very sorry if I forgot someone!

Chapter 3: Forewarned

The morning after the foreboding vision, Aragorn awoke before Legolas. He silently slipped out of the bed, washed and threw on a thick robe to staff of the cold. He kindled a fire in the hearth of the other room, heating water for tea. Standing in front of the hearth, his gaze riveted on the flames, he let his mind wander. The dream was not the first vision he had had, but by far the clearest. So far, he had had two visions, one when he had been very young and had not yet known of his heritage. The other he had had when he had come of age; he had seen a terrible accident during a hunt, hurting an elf so badly that he had to stay in the healing wing for weeks before he had healed. But since then, he had not seen a vision.

His foster father, gifted with foresight, had explained to him that all of the line of Elros had the gift. In some it was stronger than in others. Some saw real pictures, flashes of the future, while others merely felt things to come, like a hollow feeling in the stomach or a feeling of unrest. Elrond had told him that this gift usually took time to fully develop, and that it could very well be that he had no more visions until he was much older. Aragorn had never dwelled on this gift, for there had been little reason to. Why ponder something that almost never bothered him?

But now, Aragorn was sure, he had had another vision. And now not only once, but thrice already. He thought about the occasions that the vision had come to him. First, when he had lain with Legolas the night of his return, then after he had sustained a minor concussion, and then last night, after the death of the small babe. Two of the three times he had been asleep and the vision had come as a dream to him. That in itself was not so much strange, as uncommon. He had learned from Elrond that visions often came during the hours of sleep, for the mind was then open to otherworldly spheres. But visions also came during the day, while one was awake and alert. So, why had he only seen the vision while he had been sleeping?

But that was not true, was it? Only two times he had been asleep; first because of the concussion and then because he had been so exhausted. His mind had been open then, his defenses down. But the first time he had seen the vision while he coupled with Legolas. Right after he had found his release…His mind had been open then, too. There had been nothing on his mind but the thrill of release and the bliss of his closeness to Legolas. Apparently, he was only able to have these visions when his mind was elsewhere, when it was totally and utterly defenseless.

His eyes still fixed on the flames, Aragorn mused about this. He felt, deep inside, that the vision showed him an event in the near future. Something would happen, something terrible, and to a person he knew. There was no mistaking the horrid feeling in his stomach when he recalled the pictures he had seen. And he felt that he knew not only the person in the vision, but also the place. But try as he might, whenever he wanted to put his finger on it, the images blurred and vanished. He could not recognize the person or place, no matter how much he wanted to.

But if the vision came to him because of a reason, most likely so that he could stop the vision from coming true, then he had to know more details. Who was the person in the vision? What happened to it? And where? When?

With a cold jolt in his stomach, Aragorn realized that he would have to see the vision again. It had been very blurry the first time he had seen the images, and almost clear the last time. Maybe, when he had the vision again, he would see more, perhaps even recognize the persons in it, or the place. But how to achieve that? He could scarcely bump his head again, and Legolas had bedded him more than once since his return, and nothing had happened. Well, nothing that had to do with the vision. But wait,…had he not been physically exhausted that first time he had seen the vision while laying with Legolas? Aye, he had been. Very much so after his long journey and his initial coupling with his golden Prince.

The key to seeing the vision seemed to be that he had to be bodily at the brink of exhaustion. And then he simply needed a trigger, like his coupling with Legolas, the concussion or the haunting images of death. While he stood there, already planning his day so that he would be very exhausted in the evening, the door to the bedchamber opened silently and Legolas padded into the living room. The elf snaked his arms around Aragorn's waist from behind and placed a loving kiss at the side of his neck.

"Good morning, love." Legolas whispered, stealing another kiss. "Why did you not wake me?"

Tilting his head so that Legolas could better access his skin, Aragorn tried to shake the thoughts of the visions out of his mind. "I didn't want to disturb you, Legolas. You looked tired. After all, and don't deny it, you watched over me during the night." He turned in Legolas' arms, looking deep into his blue eyes.

"Aye, I did." Slender elvish fingers tucked at strand of dark hair behind Aragorn's ear, and he shuddered at the intimate gesture. "You looked so tired and heavy of heart yesterday. I thought it best to watch your sleep, so that nothing would disturb you." Aragorn's heart lifted at the thoughtfulness of his lover, and rewarded his Prince with a loving and slow kiss. When their lips parted, Legolas' eyes had darkened considerably. "I love you Estel." He murmured, cupping Aragorn's face with his hands. He closed the distance and placed another kiss on Aragorn's lips, parting them with his tongue and plundering his mouth. The kiss became heated, lips kissing and tongues tasting the other.

Legolas' hands wandered over Aragorn's shoulders and chest, mapping them, before they pressed him closer. Aragorn moaned softly when Legolas' skilled mouth placed warm kissed on the soft skin at the side of his neck, nibbled gently at his ear. A whisper reached his senses, "Love me now, meleth nin (my love)." Heat, all consuming and oh so wonderful surged through Aragorn's body. He wrapped his arms around Legolas and leaned into him. At Legolas' words, desire flooded his every cell. It was usually Legolas who dominated in their couplings, which was understandable, for he had centuries of experiences to put to good use. Aragorn had taken Legolas but a few times, more out of curiosity than true desire to do so. He just loved to be taken by his strong Prince, to be held and controlled and simply loved. But right now, his body screamed at him to do as Legolas asked.

Ensnaring Legolas' lips in a bruising kiss, he made to push Legolas towards the bedroom, but his Prince would have none of it. Legolas bore Aragorn down onto the rug that lay in front of the brightly burning fire. With but a few quick movements, Legolas shed his nightclothes, then pressed his naked body against Aragorn's. Aragorn was stunned at the beauty he beheld. In the light of the flickering flames, Legolas milky skin glowed golden, and his hair radiated like molten gold. When Legolas pressed his lips against the soft skin at his throat, he moaned lustfully.

It took but moments for Aragorn to shed his clothing as well. He rolled atop Legolas, who willingly spread his legs to accommodate his lover. But instead of turning his attention to his Prince's half erect shaft, Aragorn peppered his chest with hot kisses that left Legolas moaning. Travelling from his sensitive throat down his chest, Aragorn sucked at Legolas' nipples until they were hard and the elf under him arching his back in pleasure. Then he went deeper, licking and kissing his way down Legolas' chest, until he paid loving attention to his inner thighs. By now, Legolas was gasping shallowly, his shaft pounding with need. And Aragorn was more than eager to satisfy this need.

He took Legolas deep into the warmth of his mouth, suckling him until his Prince writhed under him. Legolas came with a keen moan, spilling himself into Aragorn's accommodating mouth. Sucking until Legolas was utterly spent, Aragorn enjoyed the radiance that illuminated his lover's ethereal form. Releasing Legolas, Aragorn moved atop him. He lifted his lover's now tensionless hips and legs, kissed him passionately, then rubbed his nose against Legolas'. The elf swung his legs around him, and before Aragorn could react, Legolas reached down, took him in hand and pushed his hips down. Aragorn was buried deep inside his lover. Velvet heat enclosed him, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. Another searing kiss from Legolas spurned him on, and he began to move.

With deep, slow thrusts, he brought Legolas back to full hardness. His pace quickened, their rhythm changed, but they moved in perfect harmony. Aching with need, Aragorn began to stroke Legolas in accordance with his deep thrusts. Panting, the elf pushed down harder, writhing with desire. He pressed his legs tighter around Aragorn, taking him deeper, and his eyes closed in the throes of passion. "Please, Estel," he whispered, cheeks flushed a lovely shade of red, "please, now!"

Legolas' words soared right through Aragorn's heart towards his pounding groin. In a quick move, he pressed Legolas' lithe form against himself, rolled over and sat up, so that Legolas was now resting in his lap; he did not miss one rhythmical thrust. The change in position caused him to penetrate even deeper, and Legolas groaned into his ear. He pressed his sweaty body against Aragorn's, kissing him with a passion that left Aragorn gasping for breath. His rhythm altered, his thrusts became quicker, harder. Atop him, Legolas pushed down repeatedly, his face a mask of pure bliss. When his release came upon him, he threw his head back so that his long golden tresses flowed over his back, and sobbed his release into the still morning air. Aragorn followed quickly after, spilling himself inside his lover. He trembled from the bliss of his spending and the cold that was creeping up on him, and when Legolas leaned down and kissed him sweetly, murmuring in his ears how much he loved him, he could not help but feel like the luckiest man in the village right at that moment.

"I just hope no one heard us." Aragorn remarked while he shrugged into his thick woolen tunic. They had not been especially silent during their love play, and he feared that some of the inhabitants of the village might have heard them. Beside him, Legolas stepped into his boots, "I don't think so. It was still early enough for few people to be outside in the cold. And the walls of your house are thick. No one will have heard us, melethron (lover)."

Fastening his cloak around his shoulders, Aragorn sighed, "Let us hope that you are right, Legolas. Otherwise I will have to answer a few very uncomfortable questions today."

Smiling wickedly, Legolas could not help but comment, "Well, then at least your men will have something to talk about this winter. And our game of hide-and-seek would be over and we could engage in some real bed-play." And when Aragorn looked into Legolas' deep blue eyes, he suddenly had to swallow hard. He knew that teasing gleam in the elf's eyes, and it always boded ill. Coupled with the lusty gaze the elf leveled at him, Aragorn knew the elf had something special planned for their night.

'Well', he thought when he closed the door behind him and walked out into the freezing morning, 'at least then I will be thoroughly exhausted enough to have another vision.' And what was more appropriate to be exhausted from than lusty and love-filled passion?

Aragorn tried to fill his day with as much tasks as he could. He brooded with Halbarad's father over the patrol roosters, he planned the next hunting trip, helped to repair a defect cart that the villagers used to transport hay from the fields to the village, oversaw the training of the younger warriors, talked with dozens of people and worked till late in the night together with Halbarad and the smith of the village on repairing weapons and making new arrows. When he came home to Legolas, his mind was tired, but his body still felt full of strength.

Eager now to finally glimpse another vision, he did not mind in the least when Legolas gripped his hand over dinner that evening and pulled him towards the bedroom. Aragorn knew not how often Legolas took him that night, he only knew that whenever they had coupled, he asked Legolas for more, and his friend and lover obliged. It was already past midnight when Aragorn fell into the cushions with an exhausted sigh. He was completely and utterly spent. At his side, Legolas wiped a hand across his forehead and tucked a strand of golden hair behind a pointed ear. Reaching out, Aragorn threw an arm across Legolas' chest and buried his face in the crook of his neck. "Le melon, ernil nin. (I love you, my Prince)"

Touched by the endearment, Legolas hugged him close, and placed a tender kiss onto his temple, "Ar le melon, galad nin, meleth nin, estel nin (And I love you, my light, my love, my hope)" Aragorn fell asleep in Legolas' arms, unsure what the night would reveal.

And as it happened, the night revealed…nothing. It was shortly before dawn when Aragorn woke, sore and sated, but none the wiser. He had not had a vision, had seen nothing in his dreams. Frustrated, he climbed out of the bed, washed and dressed and stepped outside onto the small porch in front of the house. He had brought his pipe and some weed, and while he watched as the village slowly awoke, he ignited the weed and drew the smoke deep into his lungs. It was cold and new snow had fallen during the night, and Aragorn began to shiver. But he stayed outside, for the cold cleared his thoughts, and although Legolas never said a word, Aragorn knew that he hated the smell of pipeweed.

Why had he not had a vision? Had he concluded the reason for the visions wrongly? He had been so exhausted the night before, that he had slept like a stone! And then he remembered that one element had been missing the other night; there had been no trigger. No event that could have caused a vision to come to him. Frustrated at his own stupidity, Aragorn beat the pipe against the wooden railing and put it back into his pocket. Stupid! Not that he had not enjoyed the night with Legolas, oh no. It had been perfect. Absolutely perfect, as it should be. He had felt so close to Legolas as he had never before, and he knew that this feeling was not just a result of their (numerous) couplings. It also stemmed from the fact that Legolas and he had overcome a drift in their relationship, and were now closer than ever. In spirit, heart and body.

At the thought, Aragorn felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had not yet told Legolas of his visions. But after what had happened in Mirkwood, Legolas and he had promised each other that no one would keep a secret from the other. Never again. But what if it was no vision after all, but merely a strange dream? Aragorn mused distractedly about whether or not he should tell Legolas. In the end, the cold won out and he returned inside the house without having come to a decision.

In the end, the decision was taken out of his hands.

A few days later, Aragorn, Legolas and two other rangers left the village to scout the area. They would ride in a large circles around the village, only to then minimize the circles, make an excursion into the surrounding forests, before they returned to the village. The scouting trip would take two days.

It was late the second day, when they had already circled the village. While the other two rangers headed West to scout a smaller forest, Aragorn and Legolas headed North towards another accumulation of trees that was so small that it did even not deserve the name 'forest'. After that, each group would return to the village before nightfall.

Freezing despite his long overcoat, gloves and scarf, Aragorn glanced around the trees. They had seen no signs of orcs or other fell creatures, and the 'forest' around them was silent. Shivering in the cold wind, Aragorn turned his horse, "Here is nothing, Legolas. Let us return to the village and report our findings." He glanced at the cloudy sky, "And let us make haste, for I feel that more snow is coming."

Standing atop the snow beside his horse, Legolas followed Aragorn's gaze, "Aye, you are right, those clouds hold more snow. I can already smell it in the air." With a swiftness only the elves possessed, he swung onto the back of his horse, "Let us not tarry, then." Aragorn pulled his hood deeper into his face and was just to press his horse onwards, when Legolas stiffened. Alarmed, Aragorn's hand automatically moved to the hilt of his sword. Following Legolas' gaze, he saw nothing but white snow. "What is it, Legolas? What have your keen eyes espied?"

Legolas did not answer immediately, but continued to stare into the distance. A frown marred his beautiful face, "I am not sure, Estel. But there is something that does not belong." Narrowing his eyes to see better, he shook his head, "I cannot tell what it is, but it does not move."

Wary, Legolas and Aragorn slowly approached whatever it was that Legolas had sighted. They had almost reached it when Legolas suddenly stopped his horse. Aragorn gazed at him questioningly, his hand still at the hilt of his sword. To his surprise, Legolas shook his head, a very sad expression on his face, "You won't need your sword, Estel. Weapons cannot help here." And before Aragorn knew what his friend was talking about, Legolas urged his horse forwards again. When Aragorn finally realized what lay in the snow before them, his heart became heavy.

There, in the middle of the plain, surrounded and partially covered by nothing but snow, lay the body of a man. Aragorn quickly thought about all his men that were still on patrol, but none of them had been assigned to this streak of The Angle. Nevertheless, he dismounted quickly and kneeled next to the body. Turning it around, he saw that it was the body of a man, but none he knew. He was no ranger. Relief and sadness washed over him. After a quick examination of the body, Aragorn could tell that this man had probably come from Bree, for he carried a lot of goods and valuables with him. Mayhap he had been a merchant on his way to another village, or he had been a lonely wanderer, who carried all his goods and chattels with him.

"He has been dead for a while." Aragorn finally said and got to his feet. "His body is completely frozen. But I can find no injuries. I think he just went to sleep one night and never woke up again. He…froze to death."

Legolas looked down at the dead man, shaking his head sorrowfully, "What was he doing out here, on his own and without a horse or a cart?"

Sighing, Aragorn shrugged his shoulders. He did not know the answer. "Mayhap he was on his way to a village or to meet someone. With all the snow, maybe he strayed from the road." He shook his head, "We will never know, Legolas. He has taken the answers to these questions with him to his grave."

With combined strength, they wrapped the body in a blanket and lay him over the back of Legolas' horse. Although they knew not who the man was or what had driven him so deep into the plains of The Angle, they would never let him lie in the snow, only to be ravaged by the wild beasts as soon as the temperatures rose once more. Instead, they would bury him close to the village.

They arrived at the village after nightfall, long after the other two rangers had returned, but they did not want to lay the body out until the morning. And so, with the help of a handful of rangers and bathed in flickering torchlight, they dug a grave into the frozen earth and laid the unknown stranger to rest. When Aragorn sank down onto the mattress that night, he felt saddened at the death of the stranger, so close to the village, so close to warmth and help. And at the same time, he was glad that it had been none of his men. It was a strange feeling, so ambiguous. He fell asleep nestled in Legolas' arms.

That night, the vision returned. Instead of mere colors and shapes, Aragorn could finally make out his surroundings. Like the first times, he stood next to a building, but now he could see that it was an old house, built from stone, but long abandoned to ruin. Windows and door were mere black holes in the stone. No smoke rose from the roof, which was heavily laden with snow. Looking around, Aragorn saw that a river flowed in the distance, to the East. He was just to walk towards the ruin, when movement to his left startled him.

There he was, the slender figure with the golden glow. This time, Aragorn had no problem in recognizing the person. "Legolas." He whispered, stunned at the sight before him. He could not understand why he had not earlier realized that it was Legolas who he saw. While he watched, Legolas walked around the house slowly, one of his sparkling daggers in hand. He looked into every window and when he reached the door, he bent over the threshold to look inside the house.

Just in that moment a figure climbed out of the old well, just like the other night. Taking a step forwards, Aragorn could see that the figure was just clad in boots, breeches, a tunic and shirt; insufficient protection against the cold. The figure tumbled to the ground, breathing heavily. And then, the figure lifted its head and Aragorn could see its face.

Aragorn sucked in his breath and took a step backwards, 'It's me!' He thought, stunned. But it was unmistakably him who had crawled out of the well and was now slowly getting to his feet.

"Estel!" Legolas voice was loud in his ears, and Aragorn's head snapped to the figure in the doorway. Legolas turned around to face the Aragorn that had just climbed out of the well. With a relieved smile Legolas started forward, but before he had taken but a few steps, he came to an abrupt stop. He looked down at himself and then back over his shoulder, confusion and pain marring his features. Without another sound, he dropped to the ground. The snow colored in a bright red under his body. "Legolas!" The scream of the other Aragorn made Aragorn jump. His other self sped past him and kneeled down at Legolas' side, taking him into his arms. Aragorn could just watch in stunned horror as his other self drew Legolas close to his chest, muttering too soft for Aragorn to make out the words.

While Aragorn watched, helpless and stunned to immobility, the other Aragorn shook Legolas, tears running down his cheeks. But Legolas did not move, did not speak, and a heart wrenching sob escaped both of Aragorn's lips.

He had just watched Legolas die. Legolas was dead. Red stained the snow, his other self's hands, his clothing. And while he watched, a shadow appeared in the doorway, a gleaming sword in hand.

"NO!"

Aragorn woke abruptly. Cold sweat stood on his brow and his nightshirt clung to his body. He was panting in shallow gasps, and for a moment, he was disoriented. It was a moment before he became aware of a strong hand on his shoulder and Legolas' presence beside him. He swallowed hard and tried to calm down. Legolas was with him, he was not dead, it had just been a dream. No, he corrected himself immediately, it had been a vision. Of the future.

"Estel, are you alright? You called out in your sleep." Legolas brushed a lock of his sweaty hair out of his face, scrutinizing him with mild worry in his eyes. "Did you have another nightmare, meleth nin (my love)?" Legolas' voice was soft, almost afraid of the answer. It had taken Aragorn a long, a very very long time, to escape the nightmares that had haunted him after the attack on him almost a year ago.

His breathing almost back to normal, Aragorn turned to face Legolas, "No, not a nightmare. Legolas, we need to talk."

Sitting at the table in the other room, a cup of lukewarm tea in front of him, Legolas frowned deeply, "So, are you telling me you had a vision, in which I died?" Aragorn nodded, pressing his long fingers against his cup of tea. "Aye, you died in my arms from a terrible wound to your back."

Aragorn had told Legolas everything. From the first blurry vision he had had up until his clear vision just this very night. Legolas had listened without interrupting him, but his face had turned grim while Aragorn had explained. It was obvious that Legolas was as shaken from his vision as he was.

"And you have no idea who the attacker was? Or where this happened?" Taking a sip from his tea, Legolas eyed Aragorn expectantly. But the young man shook his head and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. It was cold in the room. "No, I was not able to see his face. And as for the place…" he frowned. "I know that I have seen that house before, but I cannot remember where. It eludes me." He sounded frustrated, and he was. The vision had shown him Legolas' death, but it had not provided him with the means to prevent it. How was he supposed to change the future, when he did not know where this happened, or when or through whom? How should he save Legolas when he knew not how? Why had he not seen more, for Valar's sake?

Seeing his frustration and the guilt that burdened Aragorn's shoulders, Legolas reached across the table and placed his hand atop Aragorn's. "Don't trouble yourself, Estel. Maybe it was a vision, maybe it was a dream. What matters is that we are now forewarned. We are one step ahead of whomever it is that means us ill. We can – and we will – prevent this from happening."

"But how, Legolas?" Agitated, Aragorn got to his feet and began to pace the room. "How are we to prevent this? We know not when, or how, or who, or why!" He reached the hearth and kicked the stones in his frustration.

"I know not how, Estel. But we will find a way." Putting a reassuring tone into his voice, Legolas tried to reason with his young lover. "You are right, your vision provided us with little information." Still pacing, Aragorn snorted softly. Unfazed, Legolas continued, "We know that something will happen, most likely in the near future, for in your vision, the ground and the house were covered with snow. Then, it will happen during the day, for it was light. So, not at night." He ticked the points off on his fingers.

Aragorn shot him a quick look; he had not thought about that before. Legolas continued, "Third, it will happen near a house that has also a well nearby. So I assume that it does not happen in a village, for most villages have a public well. Maybe we are speaking of a farm or an abandoned building somewhere on the plains. Furthermore, we were together when it happened, so it probably does not happen when we are apart. And, we must not forget that you also saw a river." He paused and thought for a moment, "Was it a large river? Or rather a small one, a brook?"

Stopping in his pacing, Aragorn tried to remember, "It was a great river, but not the Anduin. It could have been the Bruinen, but I'm not sure. For all I know, it could have been the Baranduin, the Hoarwell or even the Entwash!" He resumed his pacing.

"I don't think that it was a far away river. If it was, why would you have had the vision? Neither I nor you are planning any trips to these rivers. No, I think it was a river that flows nearby. I'm almost sure that it must have been the Hoarwell or the Bruinen. Either is close enough to reach by horse in but a day or two."

"Legolas, are you trying to encourage or depress me?" Shooting Legolas an irritated look, Aragorn stopped his pacing in front of the warm hearth. The thought that he had seen one of the two closest rivers to the village did nothing to brighten his spirits.

Getting to his feet, Legolas came to stand behind Aragorn. He snaked his arms around the other's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder, "All I'm trying to do is to keep the vision from coming true. The more we get to know, the better we can prepare ourselves."

Leaning into Legolas' embrace, Aragorn sighed morosely. Of course Legolas was right. But it was not easy to speak about his vision so calmly and rationally. After all, he had seen Legolas die in his arms. That was nothing he could easily forget. "You are right, Legolas, forgive me. It is just…I feel an unrest that makes me….well I guess a bit scared." Aragorn admitted.

"There is nothing to forgive, meleth nin (my love). What you have seen must have troubled you, that is only natural. Just remember, Estel. Whatever comes, we will fight it, and we will prevail." Legolas pressed his lips against Aragorn's skin, before he tugged at his arm. "Come back to bed, it is cold out here."

It was a restless night for both of them. The fear that something horrible would happen hung like a dark cloud above them, threatening to overwhelm them. When morning finally came, Aragorn felt as if he had not slept at all. Over breakfast, they decided to not yet tell others about the vision, for they would only worry overmuch. But at the same time, they would make sure that they neared no river, nor went on any unnecessary hunt. Maybe they had no surety when it would happen or where, but they could take precautions.

To be continued.