Well, let's see, it's been over two years since my last update, I believe. I had never intended to abandon this story, though life has a way of rearing its head in. I lost pretty much all interest in writing for a while, though now that I've settled down and such, it seems I'm at it again.

This chapter may not be the longest of submissions, but I wanted to post another installment as soon as I could.


It was a violent jerk that awoke him, followed by the foul taste of muck as he was thrown to the ground once more. His shoulder was screaming and his head was pounding, and all the while his vision refused to clear.

Around him he could hear voices, muffled at first until his head began to clear. He heard the soothing tones of mothers as their children cried, the comforting assurance of fathers to their sons. For a moment he felt as though he was returned to Helms Deep, witnessing the families torn apart as they were ushered into the glittering caves. It brought a certain pain to his heart, one that he recalled as being alleviated by his rugged companion. But there was no comfort here.

He was dragged to his feet by rough hands, shoved cruelly toward a makeshift tent of branches and burlap. Briefly he observed that the rain had ceased to pour, the air having taken on a musty scent.

The flap to the tent was opened, revealing the broad-shouldered man he had encountered earlier. Beside him was Jamhir, looking every bit the disgruntled taskmaster he took him for.

"You seem to have a knack for getting in the way of things, elf." The leather-skinned man looked to him, smirking as he was shoved to a sitting position. He fought the urge to cringe, refusing to grant what satisfaction it would bring to the two.

"It seems, however, that you are a blessing in disguise." At this Legolas frowned, blue eyes seeking out black orbs. The burly man chortled, taking a swig from his flask.

"Your race is dying, elf, though your lands are prospering. My lord Kain does not see the futility of creating a treaty between our people." He smirked, looking to his companion. Legolas followed his gaze, shifting his arm somewhat. He realized now that the wound had been bound securely, though he could feel the faint trailing of blood along his arm.

"By removing those that remain in the Greenwood entirely, Alhír would prosper without hindrance from your tree-loving kin." To this the elf sneered.

"What business did that man have with Aragorn? What does he have to do with your people, and where is Lady Arwen?" His voice was ragged, and he had a sudden and great desire for water.

"I was contacted two summers past by a man cloaked in brown. It was he that suggested my lord Kain contact your king, as our lands were not but rising from the ashes at that point. We heard nothing of him after that, until a letter arrived in the winter season." He withdrew his knife and began running his thumb along the blade.

"It requested a meeting. I went in my lord's stead, riding to a small village in Enedwaith. It was there that an accord was struck. He seemed after my own interest as he expressed that the elven lands would be at our mercy were we to aid him in his ventures. The meaning of which being, of course, making sure you and the others here stay put."

Legolas found himself staring at the skin of water by the silent man's hip, his tongue dry as bone and head light as a feather. It was some time before he realized the man had stopped speaking, though his words registered so loudly in his mind.

"This man...what does he want with Aragorn?" He could detect a slur in his own voice, and his vision began to swim. He felt hot.

"He spoke little of his own agenda, and I cared little to hear it. As far as your kingdom is concerned, my beliefs lie in the old ways." He smiled a crude smile as he noted the sweat on his prisoner's brow.

"There is much I would do to see Haradwaith rein. But do not trouble yourself. You will not live long enough to see the brewing despair." He stood, delivering a swift blow to the elf's gut. A cry wrenched from the fair being's throat, bile pooling at his lips.

"You are mine to do with as I please. Lord Eadgyth wishes to never see the light in your eyes again."

The name sent the elf's memory into a whirlwind. Images flashed before his eyes, though another blow to his midsection sent him reeling. His vision faded.

-(( ))-

"Strider." His voice was muffled by the thick wool scarf wrapped securely about his face. The air was bitterly cold, ice clinging to whatever it may. The Ranger looked down from his perch, body rigid as the chill penetrated the ragged duster about him.

"It is nearly nightfall." Blue eyes drifted down to the snow-laden elf, a mirthful smirk tugging at his chapped lips. The lithe blonde made his way up beside his companion, balancing on his toes. He pulled the stiff fabric away from his face, exhaling heavily in the evening air.

"The forest is silent. Do you believe the sightings were accurate?" He looked to the man, fingers tracing lines in the rocks absently.

It had been three months since the elf joined his companion in the North, likely at the request of the sons of Elrond. Word had spread of a shadow looming over Middle Earth, one that seemed to agitate what orcs gathered in the forests. Reports of attacks were frequent, and so the Ranger and his Elven cohort were stationed in the Misty Mountains to survey the land.

"Perhaps they lay low for cover of darkness. Come morning, the villagers will be thankful for a restful sleep." His eyes scanned over the small town below. There were women tending horses and children at play.

Legolas nodded slowly, replacing the scarf about his face.

"Go warm yourself, Strider. I will take watch." The Ranger obliged, clambering down the rocky surface to the small camp at its base. The elf drew his hood up, an evening snow beginning to fall.

The night drew on without incident. By midnight a blanket of snow had coated the village, the children having long since turned in. The homes were dark but for a small tavern at the southernmost hill where smoke rose from a comfortable hearth and the scents of food permeated the air. Legolas could hear laughter from his perch, and it brought a joy to his heart.

And so another hour passed, at which time Aragorn had crawled from his slumber to take up his place beside the elf once more. They shared rations of bread and cheese beside lantern light, their bodies having grown used to the cold.

"Do you believe the rumors of an evil growing in the East?" The elf inquired quietly as he adjusted his cloak. The Ranger pursed his lips in thought, nodding his head from side to side.

"I pray it is not true, though the recent orc activity cannot be mere coincidence. There is someone holding the whip at their backs." He leaned back on his hands, a soft sigh escaping him. For a moment everything was silent, the sounds of the tavern dying down.

And then they heard it, the sickening, piercing sound of a woman's scream. It harbored panic and pain unimaginable before being cut short. Elf and man leapt into action, climbing hurriedly down the rocky formation, arms at the ready.

The town sprung to life in moments, men shouting and children crying after their mothers. A group of orcs had poured in behind the village in the dark of the night, killing whomever they might as they went. The Ranger took up his arms and immediately met blades with one of the cruel creatures. Legolas fired arrow after arrow, the sharp ends never failing as they took down each foe.

The men of the village joined in combat, black and red blood splaying through the snow. Homes were set ablaze and the women and children focused on escape. Screams echoed through the forest, though none were heard.

A cry for help reached the elf's ears, and he directed his attentions toward the tavern he had only an hour ago seen alive with activity. It was burning, black smoke pouring from the rooftop. He ran toward it, leaping over corpses and firing arrows as he went.

The door had been broken down, though he spotted no orcs within. The roof had collapsed, and through the dense smoke he could hear the cries grow louder.

He followed the voice to the basement, where he found a young man pinned beneath a fallen banister. His face was coated in ash and blood, his expression one of panic. The elf rushed forward, pushing the beam forward and fighting the boy free. He hefted him up, helping him out before the smoke overtook them both.

The boy coughed violently as the elf lowered him into the snow, far out of sight. He inspected him for wounds, finding nothing life-threatening.

"Do not move." His voice was hushed as he shoved a dagger into the boy's hands.

"Don't leave me." Wide, panicked eyes met the blue orbs of the elf. Legolas shook his head, assuring the boy's grip was firm on the weapon.

"I will return." He hurried away, back into the fray. There he found Aragorn, looking battered but not broken as he and the men fought off the last of the threat.

Bodies lay strewn about, the snow stained a sickening shade of deep crimson. Legolas rested a hand upon his friend's shoulder, looking about.

"There is another village not but half a day's walk from here. Let us tend to the wounded and lead the people there."

The Ranger nodded in agreement, rubbing at his nose with his sleeve.

"We will gather what supplies we can." His eyes scanned the fires as he spoke, his voice harboring not much hope in the idea of salvaging anything worth taking. He tugged at the sleeves of his coat, patting his elf friend on the back.

"Do not fret. This night could have had a vastly more horrid outcome."

And so the two huddled the survivors into one of the last standing homes, Legolas having made sure to return to the boy he had saved. He led him into the home, laying him beside the fire. He assessed his wounds, binding his leg, as it was likely broken.

"Thank you." His voice was ragged, likely due to smoke inhalation. The elf shook his head, assuring the makeshift splint was secure.

"Thanks are not necessary. I am sorry this tragedy befell your home." He went to stand, only to feel a hand about his wrist. He looked back, the boy offering the dagger back to him.

"Desmond. Desmond Eadgyth."

The elf took the weapon with a soft smile.

"Thank you, Desmond."

And so the night passed in silence, little sleep being had to those remaining. Aragorn spent the time salvaging what he could, while Legolas tended to the wounded. By sunrise, the group was moving toward their destination.

"Where are we going?" A young girl's voice piped up as she clung to her mother's dress. Aragorn looked back to her, smiling softly.

"There is a village in Enedwaith, just beyond Eregion. It will be a safe place." The girl smiled a cheekish smile, going about admiring her surroundings.

The Ranger looked ahead once more, though not without noticing the young man Demond's watchful eyes. He seemed to admire the man, as even with his wounded leg he insisted on walking at his side and aiding in carting the supplies.

"Tell me Desmond. What brought you to the Misty Mountains?" He inquired as he stepped over a log. The boy, who could not be older than seventeen, frowned some.

"I come from a cobbler family of Rohan. We took pride in our work. Though, my parents were killed during a crossing of the White Mountains. When they passed, I decided to find what life there was for me. I ended up here, working as a tavern boy."

Aragorn nodded.

"I hope to one day make the passage to Gondor and to start anew." He sounded hopeful, though his eyes remained locked on the face of the Ranger.

At that moment, Legolas hurried ahead a ways, stopping at a hilltop. He looked back at the group, nodding. Aragorn smiled, surveying the people.

"We have arrived. Warm beds and hot meals await you all."

A collective sigh of happiness was heard throughout the group, though the sorrow and burden of their loss was clear.


And there you have it, the first update in years. I'll follow up with the second half of the flashback in the coming weeks. I had initially intended it to be one chapter, but I wanted to get this out and work the kinks from the remaining portion.