The Ranger and mercenary had not strayed far from their encampment; yet, the time it took Aragorn to reach the camp unnerved him so completely that when the two broke into the clearing, the panicked Ranger nearly threw himself into the back of a black bodied arachnid. He pulled his momentum at the last second, and then almost stumbled backwards in shock. Ament stood beside him, as surprised at the scene before them as Aragorn. Spiders. Of course, we are in Mirkwood, the Ranger quipped to himself drolly, his normal battle instincts suspended in awe of the daunting scuffle before him.

Ramlin, Meika, Jalian, and Doran had circled the immobile form of Legolas, fighting off five of the shaggy, long legged spiders that inhabited the Mirkwood forest. They are found especially this far south. We have let down our guard. The group of mercenaries was holding their own, though the Ranger was perturbed to observe that the spiders, which stood as high as the waists of the men, were vastly more attentive to the prone Elf than to the mercenaries, likely having been drawn by the Elf's blood into attacking. Without another thought, Aragorn shot forward to join the fray. His movement broke Ament from his own trance, causing the leader to act, also.

The biggest of the foul creatures blasted its sticky web at Ament's legs as he ran to his brother and companions' aid, felling him before the man knew what had happened. Ament flipped to his back, sword pulled and outthrust, but did not respond rapidly enough, for the arachnid sank its poisoned fangs into the muscles of his leg ere he managed to pierce the creature's abdomen in a fatal blow. Aragorn could do naught to help him; the other men's distraction of their own battles had left the Elf open to a particularly wily spider's attempts to gain a meal, and it demanded all of the Ranger's skills to keep the beast at bay.

"Ament!" Ramlin thrashed ardently through the two arachnids that blocked his course to his brother, killing unwittingly the spider Aragorn was fighting.

Together Meika and Jalian defeated their dark foe by attacking it simultaneously, and then turned to Ament, who lay shaking violently on the forest floor. The Ranger maneuvered himself between the remaining spider and Legolas, intent on protecting the vulnerable Wood-Elf. He dispatched the foul being with a swift stab while Doran hefted the Prince to his feet. It seemed to the Ranger that the altercation was over as soon as it had started, though such battles often were. With the spiders dead, their black blood pooling, glittering in the pale moonlight about the once peaceful clearing, the mercenaries, Ranger, and Elf gathered about the quaking form of Ament.

Ramlin held his brother lightly in his mighty arms, his brow wrinkled in distress and uncertainty. The leader's legs were covered in the white web that had been used to bring him down; a stain of ruby blood, tinged with the spider's dark toxin, indicated where the fangs had penetrated the flesh. Ramlin looked up, addressing Strider, "What do we do for him?"

"I do not know. I have never treated spider venom before," the Ranger replied truthfully. Ramlin glowered in skepticism but the healer grabbed his bag, settling himself beside the fallen leader. "I am not sure what will help him. I will try."

Aragorn paused, waiting for a sign from the mercenary that he gave his leave to tend to Ament. Ramlin nodded, his suspicion suppressed by the dire circumstances, and laid down on the ground his now still and unconscious brother. The Ranger immediately began washing away the vile poison that coated Ament's leg wounds, even going so far as to press the torn flesh together in an attempt to squeeze out any poison he could from the gouges themselves. That done, a frantic Strider searched through his bag for herbs that would be useful in fighting the toxins.

Ramlin complained, "You've not treated these wounds before, Strider, so what do you plan to do?" The mercenary did not linger for an answer but stalked across the clearing to where the other shaken mercenaries had sat the Elf down against a tree trunk and were passing a water skin between themselves. "I bet he knows," Ramlin murmured dangerously to himself, heading for the Elf. Aragorn was absorbed in the task before him of mixing and applying his herbal mixture, having not even heard the mercenary, and was thus not privy to the unfolding events until he heard Ramlin shriek, "What do we use, Elf?!"

The unexpected scream resounded throughout Eryn Galen, its echo bouncing off the silent forest. Aragorn dropped the clean linen he was wrapping tightly about Ament's leg, spooked by the broken quiet. Ramlin had lifted Legolas up against the tree's trunk: the Elf dangled by his neck from the irate mercenary's meaty fists. Damn it.

Aragorn made to stand, but Meika saved Aragorn the trouble of having to slit Ramlin's throat by reasoning soothingly to the mercenary, "He can't answer, Ramlin. Let him down."

The Elf gasped for air when he was released, giving Ramlin a heated glare that could have scorched stone. Strider returned to tying the linen, hurrying to finish so that the injured man would not bleed too much if the healer had to intervene in the situation across the clearing. He listened, the healing side of himself hoping Legolas could advise him how to help Ament. The Ranger had not lied to the Elf in the cave the morning before; he could not watch another suffer, even if it was an Elf, or a mercenary, as was the case.

"I know little of healing humans. Elves are merely rendered unconscious by the venom," Legolas responded roughly, barely able to catch his breath.

"You lie. Tell me what to give Ament," Ramlin spat, drawing his fist back to beat the information out of the Elf.

"Ramlin." The mercenary turned, his ire forgotten at the sound of his brother's feeble voice. Aragorn looked down, not having been aware that his charge was awake. Ament's body twitched convulsively, his face was white and drawn in pain, but his usual scowl remained, as did the intelligent, mad glint in his half-lidded eyes. "I appreciate your concern," Ament inhaled deeply, calling forth the strength to continue lividly, "but do not touch the Elf."

He has apparently just awoken, else poisoned or not, Ament would have already found his feet to spill Ramlin's blood for choking the Prince, Aragorn decided.

The mercenary ignored his brother's anger and dashed across the campsite to stoop down beside Ament. "Course not, brother. You had me worried." Ramlin smiled affectionately at his older brother, ruffling the leader's crimson, corkscrew hair in an awkward display of devotion. Ament's scowl deepened. The other mercenaries followed, leaving Legolas to lean against the tree trunk, striving to return his breathing to normal.

As he watched Ramlin worry over his brother, the Ranger was troubled over Ament's order to kill Ramlin should he touch the Elf. It seems the bully loves his brother after all, and yet, Ament would kill Ramlin for his revenge.

Shaking his head, Aragorn delivered his water bladder into Ament's unsteady hand. "Drink all of this. You will need to flush the poison out of your system. I am not sure how well the herbs I have given you will work." The mercenary took the bladder, spilling drops of its contents across his chest when he tried to imbibe the liquid on his own. Ramlin reached down, steadying his brother's hand so that the leader could sate his thirst.

"I'll be back in a moment," the healer promised.

Leaving the mercenaries gathered about their fallen but recuperating comrade, Strider made his way to the Elf, whose lips were no longer tinged blue from lack of air. The Ranger noticed that Legolas was leaning most of his weight on the tree behind him in an effort to remain upright.

"Let me help you sit," Aragorn offered softly. The Elf did not reply but allowed the Ranger to lower him to the forest floor, a feat he would have found unattainable with hands and legs both tied and injured. With the immortal comfortable on the ground, the healer quickly assessed the Elf's throat, making sure that no permanent damage had been done and that Legolas could breathe properly again. In his ministrations on the archer's neck, his hand came back bloody, prompting him to ask, "Where are you injured, Legolas?"

Sharply, the Elf glared at the Ranger, his eyes narrowed to mere slits, "He told you who I am."

Strider was taken aback at first, not mindful of having used the Elf's real name. "Ament you mean?" he asked. Legolas nodded. "Yes. He told me much. We will have to talk about it later. Where did this blood come from?"

Accepting the change in subject for now, the Prince rolled his eyes, "Ramlin believes Ament's order not to touch me doesn't extend to knives."

Aragorn pushed aside the tattered remnants of the Elf's shirt, exposing a shallow cut that ran down the pearly skin from neck to navel. Closing his eyes in frustration, the Ranger pledged in a whisper, "We will leave tonight. We can find a border patrol and alert them of Ament's plans."

"And you know what Ament's plans are?"

Knowing he could not evade telling Legolas, the healer confessed, "He seeks revenge on King Thranduil. His plan included your eventual torture and death."

The Elf did not appear surprised. Together we may hold enough pieces of this puzzle to solve it, if only we had the chance to confer.

"I thought as much. And what of the goblet?"

"He wishes to live long enough to see your father's grief claim him. I believe he also plans to raid the vaults of Eryn Galen, plundering your father's riches for nothing more than his own greed. How he plans to do this I do not know, only that you may be ransomed and then killed." Aragorn watched the Elf mull over the deranged mercenary's plot, knowing he had already spent too much time tending the Elf and was likely raising the suspicion of Ramlin, if not also the others. "I can explain all this when we are safely away..." he started to promise before Legolas interrupted.

"There will be no scouts this close to Dol Guldur, even as north of it as we are. My safety means little if Eryn Galen is endangered," the Prince whispered sagely, as though he spoke to himself. His bright blue eyes turned to the Ranger, "Go back to them."

Pulling himself up in exhausted turmoil, Aragorn obeyed, trudging back to the circle of mercenaries, who did not appear to recognize his long absence. Ament rested fitfully; however, his color had returned and the healer was pleased to see the mercenary's body no longer trembled. Ramlin questioned, "He is alright?"

Aragorn dropped tiredly to his knees, reaching out to check the man's heartbeat, and finding it slightly too fast but otherwise sound, he answered, "He should be. We should let him rest. I will apply more herbs to his wound later in the night."

"Is there nothing we can do?" Meika anxiously looked at the healer, ostensibly wanting to help.

He is probably more afraid that if Ament dies, Ramlin will be in charge. The Ranger almost shuddered at the thought. I believe I am more afraid of that possibility, as well.

"I will watch over him." Aragorn stifled both a yawn and a groan, not looking forward to staying awake another night. "Get some rest."

"I suggest at least one other remain alert as a sentinel in case of attack. I'll take first watch," Doran offered, the suggestion a good one, and thus not easily deflected though the Ranger wished he could find a reason for doing so.

Aragorn hid his frown. Doran will make it difficult to escape.

The Elf, he saw, had heard the archer's suggestion: Legolas tilted his head questioningly, and then shook his head while mouthing, "Wait."

Puzzled, the Ranger settled on the ground, sitting cross-legged facing the camp. He observed Doran pick up his sword and then check on the frightened horses as he moved closer to the Elf, across the way from Aragorn. Meanwhile, Meika and Jalian dragged their bedrolls closer to the fire, though Ramlin placed his bedroll carefully over his brother and lay on the bare ground nearby. This will be a rough night.

Tirn's horse was fast tiring from the relentless pace the sentry had set. Just a while longer and we will reach the Anduin's crossing on the Old Forest Road. We will break then. He gave his horse a gentle pat of encouragement. The night was nearly over but his quick eyes flashed about his surroundings, unsure what he was looking for yet taking in every detail of the shore of the rolling river. He had spent the entire day in the same pursuit until he had a persistent headache that throbbed each time his eyes flicked from object to object. Not much longer, just hold on, the immortal assured, though whether the declaration was for his horse or himself he did not have the time to ponder.

Abruptly, the sentry halted, his sore but keen eyes picking out two figures galloping towards the crossing where the Old Forest Road met the river, just where he had intended to stop not more than a league away. Elves. Noldor by the looks of their dress. Eryn Galen had historically been at odds with the Elves of Imladris but diplomatic relations had been restored. Perhaps they have word of the Prince. Apologetically, Tirn spurred his horse on; the tired beast complied without complaint, sensing its rider's excitement. Why would they be traveling in the stormy night if not for important business?

Despite his enthusiasm to confer with the Noldor, the sentry released his bow from its catch warily, holding it lightly against his side under his arm, ready should the two Elves prove to be less than friendly. When he approached the river crossing, he slowed his horse to a trot, not wanting to alarm the travelers, who had stopped, their own bows removed and ready. Upon closer inspection, Tirn marveled to see that the Noldor were mirror images of each other.

Twins?

"Mae govannen, friends from Imladris," he called when he reached the Elves. "I am Tirn, a sentry of King Thranduil's court. Do you travel to Eryn Galen on official business?"

The twins glanced at each other cagily before one of them replied, "Mae govannen, Tirn. I am Elladan Elrondion, and this is my brother Elrohir."

Elrondion? These are the twin sons of Lord Elrond of Imladris. Sweet Eru, I hope I have not offended them.

Again, the Elves shared a look with a meaning Tirn could not discern, before Elladan continued, "We are not on official business but we journey to King Thranduil's palace."

Tirn had slipped from his horse, holding his hand to his heart, and then sweeping it forward while bowing slightly out of respect. His face fell, though, at their words and he sighed heavily. "I am sorry to delay you, my Lords." The sentry fought an overwhelming despair.

It was too good to be true. They've no word of the Prince.

He advised them, "Please heed my warning, my Lords, and do not travel in the forest at night. I would accompany you to the palace if I could but I am moving south to..." The fair immortal hesitated, tentative to reveal the purpose of his mission to the Noldor. "To find the missing Prince," he finished quietly.

Identical expressions of disbelief crossed the dark haired Elves' faces. "Prince Legolas is missing? From where? When? How long ago was he taken? Was there a human with him?" The barrage of questions from the Elf that Tirn believed was Elrohir confounded the sentry. Dismounting his steed, the Noldo raced to the Silvan, his twin right behind him. "Why do you search for him south? Are there others looking, also?"

"Brother, leave him be." Elladan rolled his eyes, directing his consideration to Tirn. "Elrohir believes our brother and Prince Legolas to be together. We had hoped to find them safe in Eryn Galen."

Tirn was no more enlightened with this explanation. "I don't understand, my Lords." The twins exchanged another fleeting look.

They know more than they have told.

"Prince Legolas was abducted by two humans in the forest northeast of here three days ago, we believe. I am the only one looking for the Prince." He kept his reasoning for heading south to himself.

No point in telling them I placed the fate of the Prince on the flip of a coin.

"The only one? King Thranduil has not deployed warriors to find him?" Elrohir's comment irked Tirn, though he had earlier questioned the King's actions himself.

"The army of Eryn Galen is spread thin enough as it is to keep our borders safe. Besides, they took to the river, my Lords, and King Thranduil holds little hope that sending warriors to search the shores, especially after the recent rainstorms have washed away the tracks, will produce any clues as to the whereabouts of the Prince." Rubbing his eyes, the sentry carried on in a soft mutter, "King Thranduil has lost much in the last millennia. He despairs."

Hold your tongue, Elfling. Do not bare the weaknesses of your home to these strangers, Tirn censured himself.

However, Elladan and Elrohir nodded their acceptance of this situation, apparently knowing the pressures the King must be under to protect his people from the Dark forces that plagued Mirkwood. Elrohir spoke, "Legolas is well but in danger. Our human brother is with him, this I know, but I do not know where they are."

"Your human brother?" When did Lord Elrond bond to a mortal?

"Our adopted human brother, yes. Elrohir has had a vision of Legolas and Estel together," Elladan explained patiently.

Tirn closed his eyes, trying to clear his head. If the son of the seer Elrond and Celebrian, daughter of the prophetic Lady of the Woods, has had a vision, it must be trustworthy, Tirn concluded. Even so, he doubted. They are Noldor. They may have ulterior motives. I have heard nothing of Elrond's human son. Nevertheless, why would they come here otherwise if they have no official business?

"Tirn?"

Realizing his eyes were still closed and his taciturn contemplation had discomforted the travelers, the sentry apologized, "Forgive me, my Lords. It has been a long day."

"Why do you head south?"

Seeing he wouldn't be able to avoid the question, the sentry's mouth quirked into a bashful grin as he blushed. "I flipped a coin."

Elladan raised one thin eyebrow, smiling himself. "You flipped a coin?"

Tirn shrugged his shoulders, regretting it instantly when he realized he was acting too informally in front of the Imladrian Lords. Seriously, he replied, "It seemed fate may lead me where reason could not."

Catching his brother's attention with a flip of his hand, Elrohir merely stared at his twin, another silent exchange that Tirn found entirely disconcerting. Can they not just speak?

Elladan turned back to the sentry, demanding simply, "We are coming with you."

"Though I would appreciate the company, my Lords, I cannot guarantee your safety. Perhaps you should travel on to Eryn Galen and..."

"No. Our brother and your Prince are together. I think you are right, they have headed south." Elrohir's forehead wrinkled in concentration before he commanded as his brother had, "We will join you. If you refuse we will go without you, and you can explain to King Thranduil how Elrond's sons were eaten by spiders in his realm."

The dark haired Noldo smiled as he spoke but Tirn could well read between the lines. Great, I am on an impossible mission and babysitting the twin sons of my King's least favorite Elf.

Tirn exhaled slowly, repressing the urge to sigh outright. "Very well, my Lords. I had intended to camp the night just beyond this pass."

Grinning in their easy defeat of the Silvan sentry, the twins only nodded, mounted, and followed the fair Elf further south down the Anduin.

I have been around these humans for too long, Legolas decided. I am just as daft as they are now. He could not sleep; Strider's words bounced inside the immortal's mind, taunting him with the possibilities of escape. The healer is right. It is complicated. The Elf glanced over at his benefactor, vexed by the human's sunken, dark eyes and obvious fatigue. He looks as though he has not slept for days. Legolas was not aware of the veracity of this supposition, for in fact, the healer had not had any gainful rest since he awoke the morning of the day he entered Fulton, now three nights ago.

If Doran had not been awake, the Prince would have insisted Strider and he converse. The healer avoided the Elf's gaze. He does not want to provoke their mistrust. Somehow, he has kept them all disillusioned by this farce. Legolas ignored the nagging thought that the human's ability to lie to his fellow humans could well be used on him, too. I have to trust Strider. I cannot stay here without trusting him.

The Elf rolled his head about his neck, trying to relieve the ache in his upper back and shoulders from having his hands tied behind him for days. He had not been able to break the ropes but he had managed to loosen them enough so that the circulation had returned to his tortured hands. If he worked the ropes any longer, Legolas knew he could probably free himself; however, freedom was no longer his aim. Yes, I am certainly daft, and it is complicated, he thought, returning to his previous line of thought. If I were to flee, Ament and his mercenaries would find another Elf, and he would suffer. I will not leave these men to obtain the goblet. Such an artifact could be used against Eryn Galen or another realm. It must be destroyed. I will not allow this to happen.

Legolas smiled brilliantly, momentarily forgetting his captivity, the men around him, and the fear for his future that snaked through his veins. He had some freedom even tied, he realized, as he chose to stay with the mercenaries. The immortal did not feel apprehension for his death, nor the threat of pain, but only for the future of his home. Whatever happens, I will not abandon my responsibility to protect my people. Pushing his trepidation over Ramlin's threats and Strider's enigmatic presence from his mind, the Prince of Eryn Galen laughed lightly, staring up at the beautiful stars.