A/N: I want to thank you all for being patient with me when it comes to updates; my life schedule-wise is a bugger...even still, I'm trying to pop chapters out as quickly as possible.

I know you guys are probably wondering when Legolas will get just about another whole chapter to himself, so I'll just let you know that he'll be key again starting with the next chapter. Anyway, I thank you all for your reviews, and I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter. : )

Jedi Knight247


ROGUE

Chapter Seven: Where are you, my son?

"Gondor?" Legolas asked. "I do not understand."

"You don't have to," the blond elf retorted, somewhat sharply. "I trust that Shayleigh and the rest of the band treated you well."

It then occurred to Legolas that the woman who he met earlier must have been Shayleigh. "They were as good as could be expected from a band of renegades," the Prince said, not hiding his sarcasm.

"Good," the elf replied. "And I also trust that you will enjoy the journey to Gondor so long as you make no attempts to escape."

Legolas glared at the elf, but said nothing; he was forced to wonder how it all came to this so quickly. The palace further in Mirkwood now seemed so far away, almost foreign to him and Legolas could hardly believe that at one moment he had been riding deeper into the forest looking for answers, and the next he was captured.

He now was forced to ask himself the question: was finding answers really worth getting captured and carried away to a foreign land?

Legolas refused to answer that mental question, perhaps because he knew that he would not be able to stand the answer that was inevitable, he wouldn't be able to stand under the burden of guilt that he had left his homeland and kin just because of some secret that probably wasn't worth discovering, anyway.

"What do you want with me?" he found himself asking.

The elf only smiled wickedly. "I will tell you soon enough," he said, "but I am afraid to say that you will not like what you'll hear."

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The next day…

It was the next day, bringing Estel closer to Rivendell, but he knew that Fingolfin was even closer than he.

Estel knew not why he wanted to reach Rivendell before the troublesome elf, for he had never succeeded in gathering up the nerve necessary to tell Lady Arwen how much he truly loved her and wanted to be with her. No, for he knew that Fingolfin would kill him anyway if he found out.

Despite his lack of nerve, rumors had already spread around Rivendell about Estel's apparent feelings for Arwen, making him much too embarrassed to even speak with her properly anymore.

And it also made him much more wary of Fingolfin, who had been shooting him death stares ever since; the last thing that the ranger wanted was for Fingolfin to come after him physically. For though the human had never entered into the annual fighting tournament, he only needed to see the way Fingolfin handled his opponents, to know what would happen to him.

The sight of a mutilated corpse lying on the ground suddenly came into his thoughts.

Estel shrugged it away, or tried to, reminding himself to be a man.

Even if he did not catch up to the swift Fingolfin, Estel resolved to speak with Arwen; it might be his last chance at happiness. At least he could know for a fact how she felt about him, for it was obvious that she likely knew how he felt about her…he needed an absolute answer, and that alone would determine if his heart was forever broken or forever sealed with happiness.

With that burst of thought, Estel spurred his steed to go on; he most likely not catch Fingolfin, but nonetheless, he would speak with Arwen, and it seemed that that thought alone calmed him almost completely—except for the singular fact: that he must work up enough courage to speak with her alone.

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The resounding knock on the door awakened Faramir from his sleep; he sat up in his bed, his red hair in a mess. He simply ran a hand through it and ruffled a bit before getting out of bed.

"Who's there?" he asked groggily.

"Get up, Faramir," said a voice that, despite trying to sound serious, didn't really succeed.

Faramir snorted and opened the door to find, as he expected, Boromir standing there. Seeing that it was just his brother, Faramir let him come in before closing the door once again.

"Good Morning, brother," Boromir said with a smile. "I have never known you to sleep so long."

Faramir yawned. "I'm tired; I had a rough day yesterday."

Boromir almost instantly sobered; he had heard all of the details about the latest skirmish in Osgiliath. "I heard," he said. "I am trying to convince father to send me out there with some men as well to help you out."

Faramir smiled weakly. "I wish you all the best trying to convince father," he said resignedly.

Boromir simply shrugged.

"Is there any particular reason why you decided to interrupt my sleep?" Faramir asked.

"Ah, yes; I meant to tell you that we are to break fast with the royals of Rohan in less that half an hour."

Faramir's eyes widened considerably. "That soon?" he asked.

Boromir smiled and nodded. "I expected that you would be ready, little brother," he said, turning for the door once more. "Be quick, I don't suspect that father wants you to be late."

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Faramir rushed like a mad Gondorian to get down in time, for the last thing he wanted was to be scolded by his father in front of Rohan's royal family.

In truth, he didn't understand what was going on, for both sides were not closely acquainted at all, and the ranger suspected that things would be uncomfortable—but still he dressed quickly, and made it downstairs in time.

The large table in the eating hall was set, and everyone was there, from Denethor, to Théoden and Prince Théodred to Théoden's niece and nephew. Faramir also took note of Boromir and Gwendolyn of Cair Andros, to whom he was reluctantly betrothed.

All was silent as Faramir entered; he greeted all accordingly, and then sat down at the table.

The breakfast was uncomfortable at best, and conversation was obviously strained. As soon as Faramir finished and was able to leave, he got up and left the Citadel.

He had decided to go for a walk, but it eventually led to him overlooking the Pelennor fields. Soon enough, he sensed that he was not alone, though.

"I too could not wait to escape that meal," said a voice.

He turned to his left to find himself staring at Éowyn.

He was going to defend himself, but in the end he just didn't see the point. "How long are you to stay here?" he asked before the words could even leave his mouth.

Éowyn smiled. "I do not know, but I do not suspect that it will be soon, seeing that my uncle has something important to discuss with your father."

"Do you know what it is?"

Éowyn shook her head. "In truth, I do not care for it too much unless it is something that will resolve this tension between our lands."

Faramir nodded in agreement. "Perhaps that is what they are discussing," he said with a hopeful smile.

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"Is there any word of him?" Thranduil asked, trying to maintain his dignity.

The Elven soldier shook his head.

"Leave me," Thranduil growled, "and do not return until he is found."

The soldier scuttled out of the room, and when he did, the King sent yet another vase at the now closed door, smashing it to pieces; the noise was so loud that it drowned out his growl of frustration; he walked over to his glassless window and stared out over the forest, knowing that his son was out there somewhere.

"Where are you, my son?" the king asked. He knew that all was not well, for he had believed that Legolas would return to him the last night, and yet there was no sign of him anywhere in the forest, and Thranduil now suspected that the worst had happened.

That he had died?

No.

But that he had been taken, taken by the one who sought revenge on the King; Thranduil had been so worried, that he had not eaten another meal since Legolas had left him.

"Where are you, Legolas?" he choked out, knowing full well that he would not receive and answer.

No one heard as the King fainted and fell on the ground motionless.