That night as Legolas listened to the winds, he heard a scream from inside the Hall. He dashed to the source to find Pippin holding the Palantir that Gandalf had brought back from Isengard. He snatched away from the Hobbit, intent on protecting him from Sauron's evil. If Gandalf had not intervened, he would have died.

Eowyn knelt by Legolas' side as the winds gently returned air to his lungs, listening to Gandalf explain what had happened. "The Enemy can still turn Elves into orcs, a skill no doubt learned from his Master. He tried to turn Legolas, but the winds shielded him from the darkness. Unfortunately, they cannot protect against physical pain, which was increased to kill our elf-prince, here. Now, something good may have come of this. He knows at least one Keeper is on Arda, so his time is coming to an end. He may tip his hand too soon."

"The winds… protected him?" Eowyn echoed.

"Long story. Someday, you might hear it."

"She already did," Legolas murmured weakly. "Mithrandir, meet… Ascarnen."

Ruin made a noise of wonder.

Pippin broke the following silence. "He saved your worthless life, Took," he muttered to himself. "At least thank him, you- " He broke off, seeing the others staring at him.

"Gratitude accepted, Pippin," Legolas tried to joke. He failed miserably when his comment ended with a rasping cough.

Gandalf sighed. "Now for the less appealing business. Tell us what you saw, Pippin."

Pippin shook his head. "A white city with many towers… Then – then the Eye."

"Let's not talk about that!" Aragorn fairly shouted. "It sounds like Minas Tirith."

Gandalf nodded. "I don't doubt it. I'll ride there at dawn, and Pippin can come with me."

"I must come!"

"Not yet. Wait for the beacons, and when you see them, take the paths. You know what I mean."

"So do I." Legolas tried to stand. "I have to come with you, Aragorn." Suddenly, a spasm of pain wracked his body.

"I'll think about it," Aragorn said when the spasm had subsided.

"What paths?" Eowyn demanded as soon as the others had left.

"The Paths of the Dead," Legolas answered coolly. "Don't worry, I've gone that way before and escaped." He winced as he touched a scarcely visible scar running diagonally across his face, barely sparing his eye. "That is, my wounds only took a century or so to heal."

"What if you can't escape this time?"

"Then promise you'll wait as long as you can. And that you'll remember that not even death can severe love. Erynloth – nin…"

Eowyn kissed Legolas, silencing him. "I promise."