Hello to the world, today is happy, because it was warm and sunny. To anyone whose day was not warm and sunny, never give up hope and remember to pay the electric bill. And to end this sunny day, here is Chapter 4.

Disclaimer: LOTR: J.R.R. Tolkien. Tinsel in hair: Fun in the sun.

Chapter 4: Not Meant for Fate

The forest had lain a few miles east of the Misty Mountains, near the town of Rhosgobel, and not all that far from the borders of Mirkwood from whence Legolas had come. The road to Bree was not the easiest. The realm of Eriador could be accessed from their position by fairly safe and plain mountain paths, but these days all such roads were perilous. Yet to reach their destination it was necessary to go in that direction. It was within that realm that the small village laid, along with the far land of the Halflings that yet remained unknown to either traveler-- although it would become a significant part of both their futures.

At the present moment, Legolas and Aragorn had been traveling for a day, stopping for rests at night. They had still remained distant and made little conversation. When the two were together, whether they were eating or resting or walking, there seemed to be an underlying tension that caused a rift which neither wished to cross. The situation was also the offspring of their own inner troubles. Aragorn remained enclosed in his own thoughts, with so many memories and insecure feelings blending within his mind so that he felt isolated and bitter, even with Legolas' company. The elf's behavior left as much to be desired. He bore no particular love towards men, as he had said before, for it was interaction with the race that had hardened Caleil, and his father the Elvenking had always taught his sons to not be quick to trust. Therefore Legolas remained reserved as well. He rather thought of his brother and let his actions be dictated by those thoughts. They were of misery, so he was stiff and mysterious; Legolas was changing and even the greatest of his friends could not have stopped the progression.

A mountain road lay ahead. It was a dirt path, surrounded by trees at its starting point in the valley, and then sloped gently upward into the rocky formations that marked the eastern beginnings of long chain of the Misty Mountains. It was noon of second day of Aragorn and Legolas' travels when the road came into sight.

"That path must lead over the mountains," said Aragorn.

Legolas was walking a little ways in front of his companion, and only glanced back when he answered. "I see no other road to take."

Aragorn did not say anything in reply. He rather continued in silence, and so it remained that way as it had been nearly the entire morning.

Companionship now seems no better than solace, he thought to himself with a sigh, remembering lost days when he had never been alone.

The two were well onto the path by the time the first hours of afternoon arrived. It was early autumn, so that leaves high in tree boughs were just beginning to take their red and golden hues, and the weather was mild whilst the temperature was warm. Yet the Misty Mountains had a different feel to them. Only small trees grew, and though the base of the mountains held the same aura of the autumnal world so near to it, the slight chill in the air would slowly increase as the companions ascended. The high peaks and summits were usually touched with light snow at this time of year—even as the rest of the world was barely coming out of summer's warmth.

That was how it occurred. As sunset approached many hours later, Aragorn could feel slight cold beginning to seep through his light, torn clothing, and the winds began to blow a little harder. This particular road did not go to the summit but rather led over a lower point in the mountains...the Ranger did not know if he would have been able to go to the higher reaches in such garments as he was now attired. The elf felt no extremities, Aragorn knew, and he was slightly resentful of that fact.

Legolas did not forget that his friend was merely human. The sun was stretching forth hues of purple, blue, gold, pink, and red, in a magnificent sunset that they could fully witness and enjoy, and the elf stopped and turned to the man who walked behind him.

"Do you desire a warmer shelter?"

I will not appear weak; I have slept in the cold before. I sought out the wild once and would not shy from its natural changes. "I am fine. The air is tinged with cold; nothing more. We should be fine."

Legolas had stopped walking and now turned to the east, where night's dark blanket was starting to stretch forth and distant stars were beginning to shine like minute diamonds. "It would please me to spend a night in the open, beneath the stars." His tone was touched with hidden sorrow.

Aragorn did not know what to say, therefore said nothing for some moments. He looked at what lay before them. The path was growing wider, and there were clearings up ahead large enough in which to set a camp.

"We can find a spot to rest for the night in a clearing up ahead," the Ranger finally said. He chose words carefully now, for he knew that elves did not "sleep" as men did. Legolas would rest his mind with his eyes open and gazing upwards, his slender hands folded gently over his breast.

Legolas merely nodded, and then slowly turned away from where his gaze lingered on the world in the distance; with regret it seemed. Aragorn waited until the elf had started walking again to continue himself.

As they were reaching the open area, however, Legolas stopped again, yet this time his shoulders were tense and he stopped rather abruptly. The elf reached out a hand and stopped Aragorn from going any further.

"Stop," said Legolas quietly. "Something is amiss. The air is foul here."

Aragorn looked about, and saw nothing, but at those dark words he realized that he, too, sensed something. The elves of Mirkwood were the best trackers in all of Arda. It was by that fact that Aragorn knew how keen Legolas' abilities must be when it came to those skills.

Legolas began to go forward slowly. He made no sound, and Aragorn himself felt quite loud and clumsy while watching with what grace the elf moved. Light was waning, they would have to find whatever they were looking for quickly...

Suddenly, Legolas stopped, and he knelt down, running his fingers lightly over the loose soil on the ground that collected around the crevices of rocks; then motioned to Aragorn.

The Ranger walked over and knelt beside his companion, and examined the area that Legolas was indicating.

"See this?" said Legolas.

"Orc tracks. Hastily covered."

Legolas nodded, as though surprised that the human had come to the same realization as he so quickly. Both turned and looked around at the area surrounding them. Immediately, Legolas spotted some more areas where tracks had been brushed over, and he and Aragorn went over to investigate. After confirming their suspicions they began to follow the barely-noticeable outlines of footsteps that only trackers would have been able to find. The twilight was now coming on; the sky was a dusty purple dotted with many stars, yet their light was not that of the sun and the tracks in the dirt seemed to fade. Pretty soon even Aragorn could not make them out. Rather he followed Legolas, whose keen sight penetrated the oncoming darkness.

Their ventures let them to an outcropping of rock, which was hollow, for a great cavern-mouth had formed in the front. The air still reeked of the Orcs. Legolas scowled at the odor, and with obvious strong distaste for anything related to the servants of Sauron.

At least there we agree, thought Aragorn.

As they wandered in, the stone walls cast even more shadows, yet did not hide obvious signs of Orc presence. There were ashes strewn about the ground where fires had been extinguished. Burnt-out pieces of wood that were hardly more than sticks were with them. The dirt had shifted in areas where the creatures had rested, and there were various bits of filth lying here and there. One had even been so foolhardy as to forget its dagger. The crude weapon lay in a corner, the dark steel of its jagged blade half-concealed in the ground, and there was no light or shine to the metal.

Aragorn walked over and lifted the dagger. "This could be useful," he said.

Legolas seemed appalled as he turned to the man. "You would use something of theirs? Something created in the dark depths of Mordor, where your enemy dwells and reigns?"

"I could shove it up one of their throats," replied the Ranger with a shrug. "It should be effective. The blade is sharp."

Legolas shook his head. "At times your race disgusts me."

There were a million retorts that Aragorn could have said to that, but he held them back with an amused smirk as he inserted the weapon into a leather pouch that hung at his waist. He imagined the elf did not think highly of Ranger customs...and probably not their hygiene either.

After spending a few more moments examining the area, the two came together to discuss it. Around them gloom was growing more imminent.

"We have discovered something important," said Legolas. There was a strange tone to his voice, and as he spoke his eyes did not seem to focus on Aragorn but rather in every place at once, as though with a glimpse the elf could see into far worlds concealed from the eyes of others. "We have found evidence of orc activity well outside of the borders of the Land of Shadow. Such is growing more common, but as far as I have been informed they have not been found in this place before. From what I gather, a large host was here, and we found the remnants of their tracks outside. Something must be done. Someone must be told."

"Who are we to tell?" asked Aragorn, wrapping his hand around the hilt of his recently obtained orc-dagger.

Legolas turned, and looked at the night that had fully fallen beyond the cave entrance. Thoughts were forming in his mind. Then, he looked back at Aragorn.

"On the morrow, we head for Imladris, and the Last Homely House."

Aragorn merely nodded, and walked away, giving the pretense of indifference as he went about regular activities, but there was joy in his heart at the thought of once again seeing Rivendell, of seeing the twins, and Elrond...

And Arwen.

So, that night, Aragorn rested in peace with dreams of better times in his mind, and his emotions went back to the moment when he had first gazed upon the angel of his heart. He fell asleep beneath the protective warmth of a firelight. And, for the first time in so long, Aragorn felt whole...just by the thought of his loved ones, by the thought of those moments yet to come.

For the heir of Isildur would never truly want anything more than what life had already given him.

The journey to Rivendell took many long days, and Legolas and Aragorn traveled nearly tirelessly over the mountain pass until it leveled with the ground and became open land once more. It rained all through the first day, as well as on many days that followed, and the dirt in which the companions tread turned to mud. Aragorn was irritated by the fact that his boots sank in the mud while Legolas' light shoes made scarcely a mark.

Legolas was able to ignore the wetness and the terrible conditions, for they were near to nothing for him. The elf rather concentrated on other things as he made his way to the hidden land of his kinsmen...for his heart was troubled.

A warning was increasing in Legolas' mind, subtle, but lingering obstinately, and he could not help wondering if he was making good decisions. Of what was he so wary? Every night, he remained on constant vigilance for unfriendly eyes, protecting a man that he slightly knew and, in truth, cared little for—this Aragorn was too withdrawn and cold. Though I suppose I am not much better at the moment.

We simply were not meant for friendship. If that is what fate had in mind...we were not meant for it.

Seeing as his thoughts were starting to drift back to the Ranger, Legolas closed his mind, and continued walking through the rain, hearing no sound but that of heaven's tears...

As usual, Legolas Greenleaf had thought that his last notion of his relationship to Aragorn was correct and would not change. He had a good reason to think so. The prince of Mirkwood was almost always right, for he had a cunning mind and a heart that was good at assessing those around him. But no one can be right in every aspect. This was the one of the few things Legolas would be proven to be wrong about over the course of his journeys with Aragorn, and over his life, his eternity, for the fate written in the stars would soon reveal the dawn of a new and completely unexpected friendship...one that would change Legolas and his views forever. Such would be discovered through memories of the past, events of the present...and questions of the uncertain future that would be asked as the two companions traveled this weary road together.

End Chapter 4! What lies ahead for Aragorn and Legolas? Bwaha...no, Legolas, it does not involve cheese or mushrooms or munchy bunkins. That's what you would find behind the scenes. Along with paranoid lemonade, more commonly known as a lemonoid, which somehow refers to us. WTC?

I was thrilled to receive more reviews than usual for this chapter. Hopefully it will continue that way; like that Shania Twain song, it can only go up from here! (Unless I write a chapter that totally sucks. I'll try not to.) As I think I've conveyed to everyone, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and reviewing, it would be great if everyone keeps it up; it helps me improve my writing a great deal. Whoa, those are pretty long review replies. If they are getting too long let me know.

Chapter 5 coming soon! Please give your input on Chapter 4!