Disclaimer: I own none of the recognizable characters in this story—they all belong to JRR Tolkien and New Line.

Wherever the Surge May Sweep

By Jame K.

Chapter Eleven: One True Belief

Better trust all and be deceived,
And weep that trust, and that deceiving,
Than doubt one heart that, if believed,
Had blessed one's life with true believing.
- Frances Anne Kemble

"So they have decided to take the boy to Lothlorien…" Saruman fingered the small black bumps on his staff. "Perfect." He turned to face the orc standing in the middle of the circular room.

"Take two hundred of your best and make for the Golden Wood. Bring me the boy or I will slaughter you all."

The orc grunted as saliva dripped down his twisted jaw. "As my lord wishes," he growled, yellow eyes narrowing into slits. "The elves do not stand a chance against our superior might."

Saruman huffed impatiently through closed lips. "Save your boastings. Just bring me the boy and kill as many elves as you can while you are at it. Now," he said with a wave of one bony hand, "be gone from my sight."

When the orc had banged out of the room, Saruman smiled as he sat down upon his cruelly shaped throne. "Oh, yes. Victory is within my grasp now – and the elves will only realize it when it is too late. Only one thing is left to be done."

The wizard closed his eyes and began to weave a dark net of horrifying images – with no light or hint of redemption – over the boy's future just as he had done thirteen years before. Now, the fool elves looking into the boy's future would only see what Saruman wanted them to see. They would see the evil – and they would abandon their most valuable ally.

They would abandon hope.


The very instant Legolas stepped into the Golden Wood four months after leaving Archet, an inexplicable feeling of comfort and belonging tingled through his nerves and a warm pit blossomed in his stomach and spread through out his chest as the clean air touched his lungs.

Estel, Elladan, his duty, and whatever games the fates were playing were all put on an indefinite hold as the familiar woodsy comfort was flushed over his cheeks and limbs. He felt the urge to sing, dance – twirl in a circle with his arms held high above his head – as the trees swayed above him in a ghostly, comforting dance.

These trees were very old – Legolas supposed – as least as old that the elves that inhabited their branches. They were not the young saplings – barely setting root in the dark red dirt of Middle-earth – that Legolas had communed with during his long stay at Archet. These trees knew elves – they knew how to speak to the hearts of the Eldar. And what was more, these trees knew Legolas.

And as Legolas drew closer to the heart of Lothlorien, the trees were even friendlier with him. They reached out to him with their leafy branches and whispered to him of their goodwill. Welcome to our woods, young king, they murmured, long have you been away and we are grateful to welcome you back.

Legolas's eyes were continually drifting upwards to the thick boughs and longing thudded through his veins. Finally, he turned his gaze over his shoulder – Estel was fine – and sprung with the grace of a great cat directly into the tree overhead.

In his imagination – the cool, smooth wood opened up to welcome him – the leaves fawned his passing as he darted above his two traveling companions. Legolas knew he was surrounded by the wisdom of the ages.

Legolas!

The elf grinned down to where Estel sat on his horse – his head craned backwards. Peace, young one. I am above you.

It may have been hours later – the elf's sense of the passage of time was warped by the joy of the trees – a shuffling alerted his attention to something beyond the greenery. The balls of his feet perched delicately on a branch no thicker than his own wrist. His forearms rested over his knees so that his hands dangled free and his head cocked to one side.

And then, wide sea-blue eyes appeared from a cluster of leaves. A blond head peeped from around the thick trunk and a pristine eyebrow shot up almost to the sloping hairline. "Welcome to the woods of Lothlorien, Legolas Thrandullion."

"Mae govenann, Glorfindel," the younger elf greeted mildly – his own blue eyes flickering with amusement. Legolas tipped his head backwards. His weight shifted and his feet slipped from the smooth branch. Air rushed passed his ears and he thought he heard Estel's startled yelp from somewhere far below. Then the world was upside down for several moments as he flipped through the air.

Legolas was inanely pleased that Glorfindel landed on the ground at the exact moment as him. His knees straightened and Legolas flipped his blond hair over one shoulder. "It is has been along time," he noted with an air of uselessness – the empty air that hung between them had been just too conspicuous – even as he brought his arm to chest in the elvish greeting.

"Indeed." Glorfindel's placid face seemed to quirk slightly then he nodded. "The Lady Galadriel sends us as escort to the Son of Thranduil and his fellow travelers. Caras Galadhon is only a few hours from this point."

The sleek horse that Legolas had ridden arrived at the archer's side – nuzzling his side like a recalcitrant puppy.

"I did not know," started Legolas even as his hand smoothed down his horse's muzzle, "that the Lord Glorfindel resided in Lothlorien – much less that he received orders from the Lady herself."

"I am here with Lord Elrond and I offered to come find my dear friend. Also, I wished to see your young charge for myself." He proceeded to turn his eyes to the wide-eyed visage of Estel and studiously perused the child even as Legolas noticeably tensed. "He is smaller than I expected," he said but it was not unkind.

Legolas turned to observe Estel as well and a fond smile twitched over his face at the sight. By the Valar – if the boy managed to turn any redder, he might be counted as one of those overly ripe tomatoes that Bartmelou was so fond of. "Do not tease him. He is a fine boy." And he sent a warm surge of comfort over their bond.

His words are not meant to harm – he merely wishes to irk me.

Estel's eyes flashed to him gratefully and the boy nodded just a little with a half smile flagging at the corners of his mouth.

For a moment more, Legolas kept his eyes on the boy – seeing the youthful innocence – seeing the fascination with the elves and the tress – seeing no hint of the darkness that everyone else seemed to so clearly find.

And when he directed his gaze forwards again, Glorfindel was watching him with warm comprehension. "Come," the elf said, "the Lady awaits your presence."

The first muted hues of sunset were coloring the western sky when the trees seemed to part – allowing the weary travelers their first clear view of Caras Galadhon. Deep green trees rose up into the pale golden horizon – a peaceful island in the midst of the turmoil of Middle-earth.

Legolas had drawn his horse up at the sight of elven city and sat motionless while Elladan and Estel rode past him. He scarcely heard the boy's amazed voice chattering away. His gaze was black and disconcerted as if a strange cloud had overshadowed him suddenly and completely.

"Legolas? Is something wrong?"

With a look of vacant anguish covering his elegant features, Legolas turned to face the Balrog Slayer. "It is fading," he cried, his voice wracked with horrified denial. "Ai, Valar! So long has it been since I have gazed on these blessed trees – and now I find them only remnants, shadows of light, in a gathering dusk."

"Shadows are everywhere now. The power of the elven rings weakens with the day and orcs abound on the borders of Lothlorien and Rivendell. Soon all of the elves will flee and these beautiful elven kingdoms will follow the same fate as your Greenwood. This world will fall to darkness." Regret was heavy upon Glorfindel's brow as his hands twisted slightly. "And all will be lost to darkness."

"No," Legolas murmured after a moment of silence. His gaze left Glorfindel and settled on the dark head of Estel – watching as the evening sunlight shone off the dark strands like burnish amber. "Hope is not lost. Middle-earth will be redeemed and light will flourish once more."

"You truly believe him in, princeling. I hope your faith holds."

"It will." Legolas hesitated, a smile flickering across his face and then fading into melancholy. "I am no longer a princeling, my friend, though to hear you call me that old name does give me some comfort."

The young king felt the slight heat of Glorfindel's gaze and he held himself still under the scrutiny. The sun flickered as it faded into the trees and Legolas closed his eyes against the momentary brightness.

"We should ride on, my king." Glorfindel's voice was a soft melody on the wind. "The Lady of Our Woods much desires to speak with you."

"And I desire the same." Legolas's long legs gently squeezed the sides of his horse. "Tell me, has Mithrandir come?" He glanced at Glorfindel then continued without an answer. "I fear for Estel – Elladan tells me that Elrond and the Lady will listen with an open mind but – I trust only Mithrandir."

"Mithrandir will come within the week."

"That will not be soon enough." Hazy evening light reflected dully off of Legolas's cheekbones and a strange desperateness seemed to seize him – a premonition that Legolas could not – would not – ignore. "You must promise me, my old friend," and his voice wheezed slightly at the force of the words, "if Mithrandir does not come – you will see Estel to him safely. He cannot be allowed to be – done away with."

"Legolas…"

Indiscernible fear washed the color from the blue eyes. "Will you give me this promise?"

Glorfindel met the wood elf's gaze squarely. "I know naught what drives you to seek this boon of me – but I swear I that I will see it done. You need not fear for the boy while I am here."

"It is well then." The panic drained from Legolas's face and he wiped one hand over his brow. He smiled. Glorfindel was right – Legolas no longer needed to fear. His spirit was at peace. He had to believe that no matter what happened in Lothlorien – what dire predictions Galadriel would divulge – everything would be all right.

He lifted his eyes and saw the cool, white light that heralded the inner sanctuary of Caras Galadhon shining through the silver trees – the curved staircases carved from the finest wood as they circled up the trunks.

The sheer, peaceful beauty of Caras Galadhon had never ceased to capture Legolas's eyes – and fill his heart with song. Even now – as he stood in the midst of dark turbulence – an inexplicable peace settled over his mind, dulling his worries into mute annoyances. On this day – in this moment – he would not linger on the troubles – how the white light seemed just a little dimmer – but on the wonderment of seeing this forest after so many years of absence.

His horse was taken by a tall elf with gray eyes as Legolas reveled in the soft grass that whispered against his feet. Tight lines had engraved themselves on his flawless skin and his eyes were the color of a turbulent sea, for – bathed in the radiance of the stars – Galadriel, Lady of the Woods, was descending the silver steps with Lord Elrond and Lord Celeborn by her side.

Warm flesh pressed against his side and Legolas put a firm arm around the small shoulders. His consciousness reached towards the child with thoughts of safety and comfort – of warm rivers and soft starlight.

Be at peace, my child.

Then Legolas titled his chin back and kept his gaze on the two ring-bearers. Colors seemed to fade under the powerful light the trio exuded and Legolas felt oddly comforted by the warmth of the light. The bow that he offered the elven ring-bearers, however, was stiff and he kept his arm secure around Estel.

"Welcome to the Golden Wood, Legolas Thranduillion." Galadriel's smile was a pink sliver on the white luminance of her face. "Your presence was dearly missed amongst the trees these years."

"My duties led me elsewhere, my lady." Legolas's voice was tight and his eyes canvassed the Lady's face for any sign of duplicity – any sign that this meeting might bode badly for Estel.

"Indeed." Galadriel's powerful blue eyes turned to the gray-eyed boy. She inspected him for a moment and Estel squirmed closer to Legolas's side. "I – we – have need," the elf said then, "to speak to you in great depth, young Thranduillion."

"I know." Legolas's eyes darted to the Elrond's solemn visage. "I know." He closed his mouth then and lowered his eyes to the boy. "Estel, you must go with Elladan and Glorfindel. They will watch out for you until I may return to your side. Do you understand?"

Starlight was in the boy's eyes as he leaned his face into Legolas's side. "Please… may I go with you?"

"No. Obey me now, Estel." Legolas smiled. "I will come for you soon." He gave the boy a gentle shove in Glorfindel's direction and watched as the Balrog Slayer took the child's hand and led him away into the woods. His lungs contracted painfully as he turned back around to the Lady. "I will come."

She nodded. "Walk with us, then."

Sweet-smelling breezes blew through the ferns and the grass seemed almost bluish under Galadriel's light. Elrond moved just before Legolas, his dark hair bound back by silver lattice. Galadriel walked at one side and Celeborn at the other. White steps appeared and they went down.

"You know of my mirror, Thranduillion?"

"Rumors and conjecture only, my lady, never have my eyes seen it." Legolas's dark blue eyes turned to the pedestal in the small glade they had entered into. A tendril of surprise wisped across his face and then was gone. "Oh."

"The past and the present, I see. And the future. Your future – the child's future – the future of the world." Galadriel left the other elves and stepped to the clear fountain that spouted just behind the mystical mirror. "I have seen the future, Thranduillion. And now I ask that you look and see for yourself what is to come."

"Cannot the future be changed?" Legolas's voice was harsh. "Are all futures set in such firm stone?"

"I have examined," Galadriel's eyes stayed fixed on his as her rich voice spoke quietly in his mind, "all paths, all hopes. Darkness surges around the boy. When he falls he will take you down with him. You will die by his hand." The pitcher was tipped and clear water poured from the silver spout, splashing into the smooth surface. Water droplets landed on the gray stone.

Legolas was shaking his head, his feet sliding along the damp grass as he backed away. "I cannot believe that." His eyes darted furtively towards the mirror. "I will not believe that. Estel is light and hope."

Galadriel stepped to stand next to the Celeborn as her voice was once again murmuring in Legolas's mind. "Then look and see the future for yourself, young one. Then we will call the precious boy – and we will look into his mind to see what lies in the depths of his soul."

"He is pure," Legolas insisted. He closed his eyes, remembering the one time his own mind had been searched – the horrific pain, humiliation, and terrifying fear as all of his secrets were exposed to the prying eyes of another. "There is no need…"

"You will allow us to do this." And there was no room for any argument in Celeborn's steely voice.

Legolas nodded, his eyes beset by a deep pain. He had no choice.

Galadriel' voice softened then. "Go to the mirror – and see what it will show you of the future."

An odd weakness had crept up Legolas's knees – every step to the slim pedestal was wobbly. When he got to the mirror, his body sagged against the cool stones – his hands grasping the rough lip.

Ripples fluttered across the water – despite the absence of wind. Legolas saw his blond hair and wide, scared eyes.

The present, he thought ruefully.

Then, the water darkened into a hundred black swirls that grew until the mirror was as black as the starless sky.

He saw a chubby baby face swim into view and he could not help the smile that crept over his face – Estel. The baby cooed and waved one small fist through the air before disappearing from Legolas's view. Then Estel as he was now appeared on the black backdrop of the mirror – young and strong as practiced archery – and Legolas smiled again. Happiness exuded from both of the images and the emotion was a balm to Legolas's weathered soul. They were all wrong. He just knew it…

The images changed then. The blackness grew thicker to the point of complete oppressiveness just as Estel's face came again. He was older – Legolas guessed him to be in his early twenties – and his face was consumed by anger. His gray eyes were flashing dangerously and Legolas thought of Arathorn. The young man's shoulders were heaving with unrestrained, vexed passion and in one hand he held what Legolas recognized to be the One Ring.

"No…"

And then Estel was standing with a long sword clenched in dirt-smeared fists. Blood was streaked across his face and his eyes were wild. Behind him was a dead, barren field that Legolas knew could only be Mordor. The One Ring was hanging obscenely about his neck.

"No… please," Legolas whimpered.

Aragorn's face faded only to be replaced by Legolas's own visage – marred by dirt and blood. Legolas saw himself lying on hard stone, his hands bound tightly and blood pooling beneath his body. The healer inside Legolas noted the shallow respirations and clammy skin – shock had seized the normally strong elven body.

"Estel…" the mirror Legolas whispered, his bound hands rising to beseech someone out of Legolas's sight. "Please… do not do this. Please…" No response came and Legolas watched as the light faded from his own blue eyes and his own chest fell ghastly still. Then Estel's face was there before Legolas again – his sword raised high over his head and a wicked light was gleaming in his gray eyes.

And before Legolas's horrified eyes, Middle-earth slipped into darkness and ruin. Elves fled across the sea and children were forced to slave in the bitter cold and wretched heat. Above it all, Estel watched with an amused smirk.

The visions faded and Legolas could not find the will in him to breathe. Pain enveloped his heart and soul. Could he have been so blinded – so deceived? Could his wonderful child be capable of such debauchery and complete wickedness? And Legolas could not find it in himself to take a breath – though his lungs contracted painfully deep within him. Had it all been for naught?

Coherency had left him and he was only vaguely aware of tumbling backwards onto the soft dirt. Stars blinked above him and Legolas wondered dully how long he had been in the grips of the vision. But that did not matter, he decided, all was fading into sweet blackness.

Elrond's face flickered into his fading vision.

Move, Elrond, you are blocking the pretty stars.


The golden trees glimmered about the boy's wondering eyes, stretching above his eyes. Legolas, he knew, would not approve of his lonely sojourn into the depths of the Caras Galadhon. However, a phantasmal song murmured to Estel – a thread of melody pulling him through the trees.

He placed his hand on the bark of a tree, eyes glinting with the starry light as the yellow hued sunset faded into the deep blue of night. The strange tug increased, changing, growing, deepening. He turned his head, dark hair brushing the wood – expression lost with emotions beyond his capacity to fully comprehend.

The feeling of destiny was overpowering – the feeling of carefully woven intentions and burdens and hidden dreams laid bare in white sunlight. He lifted his eyes, wondering, and saw her.

She stood there, feet bare, sark hair long and free – face like the silvery star that Legolas spoke of as Polaris on the clear, wide nights. And Estel felt as if he had faded from reality into the fantastical world of Legolas's stories – where magic and love were beautiful and common.

"Luthien!" he called out, hands wrapped about the tree and mind lost as he realized that this lovely creature was the source of the starry melody. "Luthien!"

The beatific vision turned, white hands fluttering at her waist. Large deep eyes touched Estel to his soul, folding his emotions and driving him into a frozen void. "Why do you call me by that name of lore?" she asked, voice like the deep river during late summer. "For I am not her."

"Legolas," he said, "my mentor, has told me that Luthien was the most beautiful elf in the tales of old and you are the most beautiful elf I have ever seen – so you must be her." He clung to the tree, afraid of letting go and losing the ground of reality in this maelstrom of the imagined.

She laughed and moved toward him, dress sweeping over the ground and steps silent. "Legolas?" she asked, laying a hand atop his head – for Estel discovered, with some chagrin, that the top of his head just reached her shoulder. "You are the child whom Legolas has raised?"

"Yes – I am the child of Legolas." He smiled as her hand dipped down to brush over his temple. His grip on the tree loosened as her hand became his anchor. "I am Estel."

"Estel," she murmured. "The name speaks of Hope." She closed her eyes and, to Estel, she seemed to wander from him for a moment – though she did not move. "And he named you right." She looked at him differently now, eyes wide and knowing – saddened somehow. "You are hope – though it is long in coming and the path drifts into the dark as it weaves toward the stars. But, hope lies within you."

Estel gazed adoringly. "I do not know what you mean – but that matters not, my Luthien, if you will only keep speaking."

Her laugh made him blush. "For one so young, the tongue in your head is quite flattering. But, I am not Luthien – I am Arwen Evenstar, daughter of Elrond Halfelven. I reside in Lothlorien to train in the ways of my grandmother, Galadriel."

"Oh – Legolas went to see her now. He told me to stay at the campsite." Estel looked behind him, realizing for the first time how deep he had wandered into the woods. "He will be angry," he murmured.

Arwen touched his head. "Do not fear – Legolas will be long at Lady Galadriel's side and he will not mind you lingering here with me awhile. Legolas is a dear friend and he will not be angry if I explain."

Estel looked at her, once again awed by the glowing whiteness of her skin and the startling blue of her eyes. "You are very beautiful."

She smiled and her mind seemed to wander again. "And you will be very handsome," she said, "when you have grown. One day," she whispered, voice deepening, "you will ride into Rivendell and I will meet you there." She looked at him fully. "We will be joined as one; I have foreseen it."

Estel blinked, not understanding but eager to please. "I would not mind it," he said honestly and felt a flush creep across his face, extending down toward his chest as his young mind interpreted the statement.

Arwen smiled again and opened her mouth – but Estel's attention faded, emotions and thoughts turning inward, a strange tug on the bond.

"Legolas," he murmured, hand touching his forehead. "Legolas." The bond seemed to spasm within him, pulsing wild shades as pain and confusion tumbled through to jar around in his mind. "Legolas," he gasped again. "They are hurting him."

And he fled.


The world was so still – so peaceful. It did not matter that Estel was evil. And Legolas mentally shook his head. No! He would never believe Estel to be evil – no matter what the future would bring their way.

Everything sounded so dim and faraway but, nonetheless, Legolas heard the loud shout that rose over the excited babble of Elrond's voice. Then the elf-lord was gone and Legolas smiled at the stars. Gray eyes were looking down at him – huge and worried in a young, innocent face.

"Legolas! Please!" Small hands were grabbing his shoulders – Legolas melded like soft wax underneath their pressure and his head lolled backwards as a broken doll's would.

Pretty stars.

Then hands were drawing him away from the boy and laying him flat on the ground. His head was tilted backwards so that his chin pointed up at the sky. Dry fingers pinched his nose shut. A warm, firm mouth covered his own lax mouth and stale, warm air was forced into starving lungs.

"Breathe, Legolas!" Elrond's voice shouted harshly.

Breathe? Now, why in all of Arda would he want to do that?

Yet, Estel's voice insisted as more air was forcefully blown into his lungs. "Breathe."

A hand thumped into his chest and Legolas gasped reflexively. Sweet, cool air flooded into his mouth and down into his lungs. Coughs wracked through him and he curled up onto his side, waiting for the hacks to pass.

"Estel?" he murmured to the empty air in front of him – had the boy really been there with him, urging him to just breathe? Or had that been a hallucination of an oxygen deprived mind?

"Yes, Legolas." The boy appeared, his hands touching the elf's cheeks, nose, and hair. "What is wrong? I could not feel you in my mind and you were lying so still and you were not breathing..." His eyes turned hard as he looked at the three elves standing above them. "What did you do to him?"

"He will be well in a moment."

Legolas rolled over roughly and stared up at her. "What happened?"

"A shock occurred to your psyche – possibly due to the intensity of visions you experienced." Elrond's face was grave. "Your body shut down momentarily. No lasting harm was done."

Even as he felt strength flow back into his limbs, Legolas nodded. His head cleared and the vitality of the moment came back to him. "What will happen now?" He stood to his feet and stepped in front of Estel – shielding the child with his own body. "I have seen the future and I hold to my beliefs."

"We will look into his mind." Galadriel motioned to Estel. "And we will see what needs to be done."

A heavy breath wracked Legolas and he nodded in resignation, even as his hands shook sporadically. "Estel," he said, turning to the boy. "Come here." The blond elf sat back down on the dirt and drew the thirteen-year-old into his arms – to comfort and to restrain. "They need to see into your mind," he murmured to the boy's ear as the boy's small back rested against his chest.

"Why?"

"They have questions that they want answers to." Legolas smiled tremulously and gently placed his arms around the boy's biceps and chest, holding the boy flush against his body.

Estel resisted for a moment and then surrendered. "Do you want me to do this?" he asked quietly, his head drooped against the side of Legolas's neck. "I will do it if you tell me to."

Legolas closed his eyes tightly and squeezed the boy. "Yes, Estel," and his voice was as strained as a taut, fraying rope. "Yes, Estel. This is what I want you to do for me." And Legolas was surprised that his voice stayed steady throughout his words.

The boy nodded in understanding, his eyes canvassing Legolas's slightly pained face. "All right. I trust you." And he relaxed in Legolas's arms, his smaller fingers intertwining with Legolas's as his eyes slipped closed.

"It will hurt – but I will be with you. If you are calm and relaxed, it will not… hurt so much." Legolas swallowed his sob with a thick click and did his best to ignore the powerful elves standing just above them, waiting to begin.

Estel just nodded and burrowed deeper into Legolas's chest.

Legolas held the boy tightly against his chest – his forehead resting on the back of Estel's head. "Just breathe," he whispered as he felt Galadriel and Elrond begin to focus their tremendous telepathic gifts on the boy. "Relax."

He was still for just a moment – then a gasp was torn from Estel's lips and he writhed against Legolas, pushing his head back on Legolas's chest as his feet kicked at the dirt. Legolas was able to feel the echo of the boy's pain through the bond.

It seemed to go on for hours – Legolas clutching the writhing boy against him, trying to comfort; and the elves scouring the young mind, tearing through shields, exposing secrets, seeking the very core of the growing soul.

When Estel let out a wrenching scream and fell horribly still, Legolas jerked as if he had been physically struck by an unconquerable blow. "Stop it!" he shouted, curling his lithe body around his charge's in a desperate attempt to protect the boy. "You are killing him. Stop it!" Tears squeezed from his eyes. "Please…" But, the pain still continued to echo through both of their bodies.

With a last painful jerk, the mental probes withdrew and Legolas felt the pain in the bond cease. He slowly uncurled himself and drew the limp figure into his embrace, feeling the clammy forehead and listening to the slow, steady breathing.

"It is no use, Legolas."

The blond elf looked up at Elrond's voice. "What do you mean?" he asked and his tone raw with pain.

"He is tainted – darkness lingers in his soul just waiting to be unleashed."

"No." Legolas's eyes darted around the clearing as if seeking away of escape and he moved Estel's head so that it rested beneath his chin. "He is hope… he is light…" A sob broke off his words.

"It will be completely painless," Elrond continued solemnly. "He will just go to sleep upon his bed and when morning comes – he will not open his eyes. It will be much better, Legolas, than allowing him to corrupt internally. At least now he will be taken into Mandos's care – instead of being forced to go the way of the evil ones. He will be turned to darkness if he continues to breathe on this earth. You do not think that all three of us could be wrong twice?"

Legolas found he had no strength to answer – no strength to argue. "Please," he murmured. "At least, give me this night with him. So I may say goodbye to him – hold him once more. I must…" his voice trailed off into the night.

"One night," Galadriel said, her gaze soft but unyielding. "And that is all."

His legs felt like water but Legolas stood, Estel dangling from his arms. "Thank you." Slowly, he turned from the glade and walked heavily up the stairs towards where he knew he and Estel could rest in peace.

Soft breaths blew across his neck and he looked down at Estel's lax, sleeping face – the mussed dark hair and slightly crooked nose.

"I will not let you die," Legolas whispered fiercely into the boy's round ear when he was far from the glade and the hearing of the three powerful elves. "I do not think they were wrong – but I do think that they can – and do – make mistakes. I will save you. All will be well, Estel. I promise."


And Saruman saw Galadriel's resolution – he saw the raw, weeping pain that suddenly overwhelmed the king of Greenwood. And when Galadriel granted Legolas one more night with the boy – he smiled. As his orcs began their final approach to the Golden Wood – he laughed.

His laughter bounced off the walls and echoed loudly inside of his head, almost deafening him. Tears streamed down his face and his eyes were wild with the insane mirth that overflowed his body and seemed to fill the dark room with an eerie glow. But he could not stop – his exhilaration pulsed through him and filled his veins to the bursting point.

At last the elves had been undone… and the beginning of this final destruction had been by their own hand. With their own hands, they had succeeded in casting the boy away from them forever. And in doing so they were dooming Middle-earth and (dare Saruman believe that his power could one day reach that far?) the Undying Lands to utter annihilation.

It was just too wonderful to be believed – too magnificent. Saruman would have not believed that it had come together so perfectly save for the proof that was flashing in the palanitir before his eyes.

Soon, Isildur's heir – or Estel as that meddling elf called him – would belong to him – to him and the darkness.

Everything was turning out so perfectly.

to be continued.