A/N: Sooooo a little someone pointed out a very big mistake I made, and I am going to try and fix it soon and pretend it was intentional. Maybe. But, yes, Galadriel did say that Sirius was in Bree, and originally I had intended for Harry to find him there… buuuuut I kind of forgot. Sorry guys!

Thank you all, by the way, for the wonderful reviews! I keep waiting for you guys to hate something I put in here, but I'm just thrilled that everyone seems to be so pleased with the way this is going!

Legolas was with Arwen when she had her vision. Legolas had arrived two days past from his home in Mirkwood, and he and Arwen had been together since. They were enjoying the breaking of their fast in the gardens of Rivendell, content to talk of the differences in their kin and kingdoms, when Arwen suddenly gasped and dropped her goblet. The dark red wine spilled across her lap, staining her blue dress, but she did not notice. Legolas reached out and took her hand, and she pulled him in to her mind with ease.

It was Legolas' turn to gasp, as suddenly he was no longer in his body, but flying over the world with nothing anchoring him but Arwen's hand in his own. They flew far, across the ford, the vast desert, and to the peak of Weathertop. There was a fire going, and three hobbits sitting around it cooking and laughing. They travelled then a little farther, where the land was bathed in a darkness not borne of the night.

Arwen squeezed his hand tighter as the Nazgul came into view. Nine, they were, and each of them with a veil of evil around them. There was nothing visible under their black cloaks but more blackness, and Legolas shivered at the terrible screeching sounds they made. With horror, he saw what they were seeing. There, in the distance, was a fire, and their excitement was palpable. Legolas had no doubt who else was at Weathertop.

The vision shifted, and suddenly they were back with the hobbits, but they were not alone. Harry was there, with the hobbit Frodo Baggins and a woman Legolas did not recognize. Harry and the woman stood guarding the hobbits as ringwraiths glided up to them, brandishing their weapons and screeching.

The vision shifted again, and in slow motion Legolas and Arwen watched as Frodo brought a golden ring out from beneath his shirt and lifted it to his finger. One of the other hobbits called out to stop him, and Harry turned. He reached out to the hobbit, and no one there saw one of the wraiths draw up his blade, but Legolas did. He tried to reach out, tried to scream at Harry to turn around, but found that the only hand he had was the one Arwen was grasping, and his voice had left him.

His breath left him, too, as he watched the blade come down and pierce through Harry's shoulder, tearing flesh and muscle in a spray of blood.

"HARRY!" Legolas yelled, and suddenly he was back in his body, reaching out in front of him as if he could stop what had happened, though he was miles and miles away. His breath was coming in short gasps, and he felt tears prick his eyes. He looked around wildly, and his gaze came to rest on Arwen, who was clutching her chest and crying freely.

"Go, Legolas! You must find them. Bring him here, so my father can heal him," Arwen said, grasping Legolas' forearm. "Hurry, before he is lost to us!"

Legolas nodded once, grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows, before dashing to the stables. His horse was waiting there, but he was not saddled and Legolas did not have the time to ready him. He surveyed the stables frantically until he saw a white horse already saddled and ready for someone's morning ride. He dashed over and jumped onto its back, startling the elf who was holding the reins, and was off before anyone could utter a word to him.

Legolas did not know anything then other than his desperation to reach Harry in time to save him. He had missed his friend in his absence, and thought of him often, but to an elf a few months was no time at all. If Harry should die, though, and Legolas was never to see him again, Legolas was not sure that he could handle the grief. He was not ready to explore his feelings for his companion, but he knew without a doubt that he could not let him die.

He rode hard, not stopping to eat or rest, and he knew that if the horse he was riding had not been elvish it would not have lasted. For two days he rode, seeing no sign of life, until he found himself in a forest. That night he found them, and rode up to them uncaring about the startled hobbits who dashed out of his way.

"Legolas!"

Legolas turned at the sound of his name and took a moment to be startled at seeing Aragorn son of Arathorn with the company of hobbits. His surprise did not last long, as he heard a moan from the ground and turned to kneel at Harry's side, all other thoughts taken from his mind.

Harry's skin was turning yellow, his veins showing blue on his face. Legolas wiped some froth off of his mouth and pulled his head into his lap.

"Hey! Let go of him!" snapped a female and Legolas felt a hand on his shoulder before he turned and brandished his dagger at the woman's throat.

"Be calm, Hermione. This is Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, and you may trust him," Aragorn said and Legolas lowered his weapon.

"Legolas?" Harry had told Hermione briefly of his new friend Legolas who had shared his and Gandalf's travels, though she had not met the elf. She was torn between trusting him and tearing his hands away from Harry. She had been frantic for days as she watched Harry fade, and her nerves were completely shot.

Legolas shifted his attention back to Harry, running a hand over his feverish forehead and pushing his sweat drenched hair out of his eyes.

"Harry," he said, speaking softly and looking down at Harry's closed eyelids.

Harry cracked open his eyes, and Legolas was grieved to see their normally deep green turned to a ghostly pale blue.

"L-Le-" was all the man managed to mumbled before his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Harry, I've come to take you to Rivendell. Can you hear me?"

No answer was forthcoming. Legolas peeled back the cloth on Harry's injured shoulder, wincing as it stuck to the wound. The wound itself was black, festering in a way Legolas had never seen before. Dark red blood oozed from it, though it too quickly turned an inky black. Legolas quickly pressed the fabric of Harry's shirt back to his wound.

"I must take him to Rivendell immediately," said Legolas, eyes piercing those of the woman standing there wringing her hands.

"But – " she began to protest, but was cut off by Aragorn.

"Legolas can travel faster with Harry on his own."

Hermione looked up at the ranger with teary eyes. "I'm afraid if I let him go I will not see him again!"

"If you do not let him go, I promise that he will die," Aragorn replied, blunt as ever.

Legolas would delay no more. He turned and whipped off his cloak and wrapped Harry in it before lifting the man into his arms. In no time at all he was in the saddle with Harry wrapped protectively in his arms.

"Legolas," said Aragorn, grabbing the reins of the white horse. "The Nazgul are still out there. He is fading into a wraith, and fast. They will be after him, to bring him to their cause." Aragorn glanced at Harry's yellow face and winced. "Ride safely, my friend."

Legolas nodded at him once before turning and spurring his horse on.

It was not long before the ringwraiths caught up to them. Legolas looked to either side and saw three of the black riders and urged his horse to go faster still. He felt Harry stirring in his arms and looked down to see his glazed eyes open and staring at the wraith immediately to their left.

The creature hissed at Harry and Legolas was sure that Harry understood whatever was being said. Harry gurgled once and pushed farther back into Legolas' arms and Legolas tightened his grip and pressed the man's back firmly to his chest.

"N – Never!" Harry moaned. Legolas knew that Harry was listening to whatever the wraiths had to say, and that it was driving him further into darkness.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to Harry's ear, whispering to him in elvish.

"Do not listen to them, my friend. There is nothing for you there. Listen to my heartbeat," he said, keeping his breathing calm.

Legolas felt Harry relaxing and knew he had gotten through to him.

"Concentrate on my heartbeat, and do not hear them. Do not let them pull you further into the darkness."

Harry breathed a small sigh and fell asleep and Legolas was relieved. In a moment of weakness he would not admit to later, he placed a tender kiss on Harry's temple, letting his lips linger for but a moment. He shook his head at his actions before concentrating on the task at hand. He had not yet outrun the wraiths, but he could see the ford up ahead and knew he would be safe once he reached it.

Four days after Legolas reached Rivendell, the rest of the party made their way in, exhausted and dirty from travel, but not a single one would bathe or rest until they had seen Harry. They left the room then only long enough to eat and bathe before they trickled in one by one. Legolas had not left Harry's side, and Gandalf was a constant companion in the room as well.

The girl, Hermione, was the last back in the room, but the second she was there she crawled up into the bed with Harry and laid her head on his chest. Legolas could not help the clenching of his fists or the soft growl in his throat. Thankfully, no one noticed but Gandalf, who followed him out as he stalked from the room.

"She is his sister, Legolas," said Gandalf simply and Legolas closed his eyes to quell his unbidden rage. He did not know where this was coming from. He had never experienced jealousy before.

"I know, Gandalf. I do not know what has come over me," said Legolas. He was ashamed of himself. Jealousy was not something befitting an elven prince, and there was no reason for him to be jealous in the first place. Harry was not his. Even if he did not view this girl as his sister (Legolas was perfectly aware, just as he knew Gandalf was, that Harry was not from Middle Earth and Hermione was not his sister. He was waiting simply for Harry to tell him on his own before he let it be known.), Legolas had absolutely no grounds on which to feel possessive. They had never been more than friendly towards one-another.

Gandalf laid a hand on Legolas' shoulder, but remained silent, for which Legolas was grateful.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

When Harry next woke, he was in a soft bed that was so large it could have slept three more people. There was a warm weight against his side, and when he looked down he saw Hermione's brown hair spread out on his chest. He was confused momentarily, until he shifted and pain shot through his shoulder. It came back to him then, and it was all he could do not to shoot up in bed and ask how everyone else was.

"Do not worry, Harry my boy. Your friends are all safe."

Harry turned towards the voice and could not believe his eyes when he saw who the speaker was.

"Gandalf!" he exclaimed, and Hermione bolted up, her hair sticking up wildly in every direction.

"Oh, Harry! You're awake!" she squeaked, and then she was in his arms and sobbing and Harry was rubbing her back soothingly and looking at a benignly smiling Gandalf for help that was not forthcoming.

Once she'd composed herself Hermione sat up and pulled her hair back into a bun, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"I was so worried, Harry!"

"We all were," came Frodo's voice from the doorway and Harry turned to see his hobbit companions standing there, shuffling their feet bashfully on the floor.

"You saved us, Harry," said Sam, and the others nodded in agreement.

"Oh, stop standing in the doorway like that! Harry loves hugs," said Hermione and the hobbits grinned and ran at the bed, jumping on and showering Harry in more affection than he'd had his entire life. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and before he knew it he was grinning and laughing with them all.

"This room has been very full for the past few days. I daresay Lord Elrond had a tough time getting through all of the people watching over you so that he could heal you," said Gandalf, and everyone looked at him and the two elves who were now standing behind them.

The one with the dark hair Harry did not recognize, so he took him to be Lord Elrond. The other was Legolas, and Harry's heart skipped a beat at seeing him, though he did not understand why. He had the vague impression of a soft voice whispering in his ear and a warm arm encircling his waist, but the memory flitted from his mind like water slipping through fingers.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond. I owe you my life," said Harry, bowing his head at the dark haired elf.

"You are welcome, Harry, though you do not owe me anything. If not for you, the Nazgul would now have possession of the Ring, and for that we all are indebted to you."

Harry blushed at the praise and looked at Legolas, but the blonde elf was looking in a different direction, a rather stoic expression on his face. Harry knitted his eyebrows, thinking of their warm parting months before.

"It is good to see you, Legolas, my friend," said Harry in elvish, and Legolas looked at him then, but did not return the sentiment. Harry looked at his friend, puzzled, but before he could question how cold Legolas was being Lord Elrond was talking to him about his road to recovery.

"We are all lucky that you had Aragorn and Hermione with you, Harry, for if they had not immediately begun trying to heal you I am afraid you would feel that wound for the rest of your life. That is, if you had lived through the ordeal," said Elrond, and Harry sighed. He would be forever grateful to the two of them.

Hermione gripped his hand and laid her head on his shoulder and Harry smiled. He was, as ever, glad to have his best friend along with him on his journey.

"We are also fortunate that Legolas was able to find you. Had he not, you would not have made it here in time to be saved."

Harry's heartbeat quickened and the memory of the warm arms around him returned. Had that been Legolas? He couldn't remember, though it must have been. Harry turned to thank Legolas, but the elf had left without any of them noticing.

Harry frowned, wondering what was wrong with the usually friendly elf. He did not recall doing anything wrong. Suddenly an image came unbidden of one of the black riders speaking to him in a language which so closely resembled parseltongue that Harry could understand what was being said.

Had he replied? Legolas had been riding with him at the time, and if Harry had spoken the dark language…well, it would not be the first time that people were frightened of Harry's special skill, and he imagined that hearing someone speaking to a ringwraith might be somewhat frightening. The thought of Legolas being frightened of or disgusted with him made his heart ache, but he shook it off to listen to what was going on around him.

Gandalf was just shooing the hobbits away as Harry started paying attention again. He felt weary and tired, and though he could tell that his arm was much better it still felt horribly painful to move.

"What happened, Gandalf? I can remember bits and pieces, but…It all goes a bit foggy when I try to think about it," said Harry, pulling the soft blankets up around him. Hermione was sitting on a chair instead of in the bed, her eyes bloodshot but a smile gracing her lips.

"I am afraid that you were pierced by the blade of a Nazgul. You might have healed from it with the ministrations of Aragorn and Hermione; however, there was a shard of the blade embedded in your shoulder. Every day its poison spread through your veins, trying to get to your heart. Legolas found you thanks to Lord Elrond's daughter, Arwen, and bore you with him back to Rivendell. Lord Elrond worked on your shoulder tirelessly day and night until he found the shard and pulled it out. Only then did your wound start to truly heal." Gandalf paused to light his pipe, taking a puff in letting it out in the shape of a butterfly.

"What would have happened to me? If he couldn't get the shard out, I mean," asked Harry, watching the wispy butterfly flutter around the ceiling before disappearing in the air.

"You would not have died, Harry. No, I am afraid that your fate would have been much worse. You would have become a wraith, though not as the Nazgul are. You would have been slave to them, knowing nothing other than what task they set before you."

Harry shivered. He could not imagine such a fate.

"You are very strong, Harry Potter. Stronger even than I imagined. Not many could escape from an ordeal such as this without some blackness on their soul. I fear what would have happened had one of the Hobbits been the victim of the attack. I do not doubt that any one of them would survive, but neither do I think they would escape permanently unscathed."

That feeling settled over Harry again, the same one he'd gotten when he, Legolas and Gandalf had first set out on their journey. Something had been changed in his actions, and he did not know why but he felt inexplicably glad for it.

A few days later, and some more healing spells from Hermione and ministrations from Elrond, Harry found he had full mobility of his arm once more. He stretched when he woke and was surprised to find that the pain was so minimal he barely noticed it. His spirits lifted, he rose out of bed and put on the set of clothes waiting for him on the nightstand.

It did not take him long to find his way out of the house of Elrond and into the gardens. It was October, and yet the flowers bloomed and the sun shone as if it were the middle of summer. He was drawn toward the rushing sound of a waterfall, and when he came upon the clearing in which it was located he decided to take off his boots and let his feet soak in the surprisingly warm water, soaking up the sun and the spray of the waterfall.

Thinking of the waterfall made him remember his time in Mirkwood, and his ride with Legolas just before they had departed. He remembered the water streaming down Legolas' toned body, his trousers soaked so that they were skin tight. He flushed. So maybe he was a little attracted to the elf prince. He thought of his cold aloofness, though, and frowned. Well, even if he was attracted to Legolas, the elf clearly wasn't attracted to him.

He jerked around when he thought he heard a little voice, searching for what could have caused the sound. They assured him that the borders of Rivendell were secure, and yet he could not help but be a little jumpy.

"Mama..?"

That time he knew he'd heard a voice, and it did not sound like something that was a threat. Still, he picked up his staff and kept it at the ready just in case as he followed the soft sound of the voice.

"Mama, where did you go?"

He spun around, sure that the owner of the voice was directly behind him, but there was no one there.

He heard a hiss, then, followed by the voice once more, "Who are you? Go away!"

Harry slowly looked up, and there in the tree above him was a tiny snake no bigger than his hand, with orange and red pointy scales that made it look as if it were on fire, and vibrant blue eyes. It hissed at him once more, though its fangs were no more than little nubs.

"I won't hurt you," Harry whispered in the snake's own language, and the snake cocked its head to the side.

"How do I know you won't hurt me?" it asked, coiling in on itself. "Did you take my mother?"

"Of course I didn't take your mother." Harry did not know what happened to this little snake's mother, but just then he was feeling sad and rejected and the big blue eyes of the serpent made him want to comfort the scared little thing and maybe get some comfort in return. "Come down here, and I will try and help you find her, little one."

The little snake hesitated for a moment, looked left and right, and then slithered down the tree to come to rest at Harry's feet. Upon closer inspection Harry realized that the snake's pointy scales were, in fact, a coat of shaggy red and orange fur. He'd never seen a snake with fur before, and reached out slowly to stroke the snake's extremely soft head. The snake recoiled for a moment before it decided it rather liked the feeling of being stroked. It nuzzled Harry's hand and gave it a quick flick of its tongue before moving up and slithering along his arm until it rested on his shoulder.

Harry discovered that, while the top half of the snake was furry, the bottom half was as smooth as any other snake's. They spent the next few hours looking for the snake's mother, though to no avail. Harry got the feeling that some other predator might have gotten ahold of her, and felt instantly bad for the poor little thing. He was just about to invite the snake to stay with him for a while when the soft pattering of running footsteps caught his attention. Before he knew it, the snake was gone and he was left alone in the clearing waiting for whoever was approaching, staff held at the ready.

The person who broke through the trees was Legolas, looking frightened and hurried. When his eyes came to rest on Harry he immediately strode forward and grabbed the other man's arms in a tight grip.

"Harry! Where have you been? We've all been worried sick!" Legolas snapped, concern lacing his stormy silver eyes.

"I just thought I'd take a walk since I am feeling better, and got a little distracted…" Harry did not want to tell Legolas about the little snake, in case it caused him to revert back to the cold and aloof Legolas from a few days before.

"You should not leave without telling someone where you are going. Especially not while you are recovering from such a wound as you have suffered," said Legolas, deflated.

"I am sorry that I worried you, my friend," Harry replied, squeezing the elf's forearms.

"I…" Legolas began, trailing off and looking down into Harry's deep green eyes. He had been avoiding Harry since his jealousy flared, trying to remain aloof, but when Harry had left and been gone more than half the day and no one could find him, he forgot all of that and could not focus on anything but locating the dark haired man.

Harry's cheeks turned slightly pink as Legolas subconsciously turned his grip on Harry's forearms to a caress. His heart beat faster and he licked his bottom lip, eyes flicking down to look at Legolas' own pink mouth. Legolas did not miss this, and ran his hand up Harry's arm slowly, reaching the back of his neck and carding his fingers through his long pitch black hair.

"Legolas..." Harry breathed, feeling decidedly girly but unsure of what else to do.

"Harry!" came a voice to their left, and the spell was broken. Harry and Legolas broke apart, each mourning the loss of contact but unable to look at one another to see what the other was feeling.

Hermione dashed out into the clearing then, nearly bowling Harry over. She was radiating excitement, and Harry forgot his embarrassment for a moment while he focused his attention on her.

"Harry! Haldir is here. Him and some man named Boromir from Gondor. He's asking for you. Haldir, not Boromir, obviously. Come on! There's to be a feast tonight to celebrate their arrival," Hermione said in a rush, pulling on Harry's arm. Despite himself, Harry was excited to see his teacher and friend.

Harry and Legolas followed Hermione back to the castle, both bemused at her excitement. Harry kept glancing at Legolas, but the elf's attention seemed to be firmly on the path ahead. Little did he know that Legolas was glancing at him too, but they kept missing each other's gaze.

When the trio stepped into the courtyard of Elrond's palace, the men Hermione mentioned were still standing around exchanging pleasantries. Haldir, along with an elf maiden friend of Hermione's, were standing in front of Elrond and Aragorn, smiling and deep in discussion. The man Boromir was standing off to the side awkwardly, holding his gilded helm underneath his arm.

Harry and Hermione broke into a run when they saw their friends. "Haldir!" Harry called, waving enthusiastically. Haldir turned from his discussion and stared at the two running towards him before a huge smile broke out on his handsome face and he rushed to embrace Harry.

"Haldir!" Harry squawked when the larger man picked him up at the waist and swirled him around, laughing. "Haldir, put me down you stupid elf! I'm not a woman!"

Harry was blushing profusely when the elf finally did put him down, his eyes sparkling in merriment. Haldir turned to give Hermione a much more reserved hug, then turned back to Harry and, as if he could not resist, pulled Harry to him one more time for a tight embrace. Harry returned it this time, just then realizing how much he'd missed his friend.

"You've changed, Haren," said Haldir, tucking a strand of Harry's hair behind his ear to observe its new point.

"You haven't!" quipped Harry cheekily, swatting Haldir's hand away.

If Legolas thought he was jealous before, it was nothing compared to what he felt when the Marchwarden of Lothlórien embraced Harry with such familiarity. He knew now, though, that there was something between he and Harry. He could not stop thinking about what he was sure was their almost kiss from earlier, and he knew that if they had not been interrupted Harry would not be embracing this Haldir so warmly.

He straightened his shoulders and walked fluidly up to the two of them, placing a firm hand on Harry's shoulder and raising his eyebrow at the other blond. Haldir's smile dropped immediately when he saw the protective hand of another elf on Harry's shoulder, and he looked into the stormy eyes and knew he was now in a competition.

Harry, for his part, could feel the tension between the two, and though he was not always quick to pick up on such things, he realized right away that it had to do with him. He could imagine how it looked to Legolas for him to be embracing someone else so familiarly just after they had almost kissed, and he knew how Haldir felt about him. He looked between the two, feeling awkward.

"Er…Haldir, this is Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil and prince of Mirkwood. Legolas, this is Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien," Harry said for lack of anything better.

The two stiffly gripped arms before dropping them and stepping farther back from one-another, and Harry thought the air was going to light on fire from the friction.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when the horns sounded for the approach of someone new and they all turned to see who had arrived. Harry had not seen dwarves before, but he was certain that was what he was looking at. They reminded him of hobbits, only slightly taller and much harrier. A broad shouldered one with flaming red hair and beard stepped forward and removed his helm, looking around at all those gathered.

"I am Gimli son of Gloin," he said, his voice rough and deep. "When do we eat?"

As always, my lovely readers, reviews make me write faster! And, of course, are much appreciated!