Author's Note: I can only offer another apology for the time that it took me to post this chapter. It has been a crazy year, so all I can give you is this. I don't know how long it will take me to post the next chapter but I promise it won't be another eight months. I hope you enjoy it and tell me what you think ( Thanks

Lady Winter

THEN YOU KNOW OF WHAT I SPEAK

Legolas stood and surveyed the palace grounds from a balcony high above the courtyard. His eyes followed the six Rangers, dressed to travel and much cleaner than when they had arrived, as they were escorted towards the gate. It had been decided that they should leave Mirkwood and take word to Halbarad that Strider was well, albeit recovering, and that the Captain in abstentia should not panic anymore than he had already started to. Legolas was not surprised to know that Halbarad was one of the few that truly knew of Strider's real identity. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to get the main group of Rangers to depart, leaving only Cressen and Lancen to stay and keep watch over their ailing Captain. Quite possibly it had only been the threat of offending the delicate peace between Thranduil and the Rangers that had convinced Resiran that it would be alright to leave. None the less, Legolas could still clearly note how unhappy the men were at the prospect of leaving their injured Captain in the care of elves that were not renowned for their love of men. He smiled in amusement. Aragorn would be quite safe under his watch.

Turning away from the outside scene for a moment, the elven prince let his eyes roam the room within. Even though the day was warm, a fire burned in the corner hearth. The room was else-wise only lit by a delicately crafted candelabrum of three candles that flickered in the slight breeze. They cast a soft glow on the dark room and shadows seemed to flutter about the room. The main piece of furniture in the room was a great oak bed, lined with fine elven silk cloth and a down comforter that was tucked closely around the occupant of the bed.

Aragorn lay in the bed, unmoving and lost to dreams, but finally these were dreams of light. His body shivered in an uncontrolled fashion, and that outward sign, the warm blanket, and the fire all attested to the fact that the future king of Gondor still fought a fever. Legolas might have been worried about this, but the healers had assured him that the fever was necessary and it would break by sometime that evening. Aragorn's face was still pale, but pinked slightly from the fever. His am was still bound tightly to his chest and it had recently been wrapped in fresh bandages. The young Ranger had been in and out of a fevered sleep for almost a week since the king had reset his broken arm, and was finally on the mend. Just last night he had come away from the troubled dreams and fitful sleep that he had been facing. Legolas had finally been convinced that he would fully recover. In the nights that he had sat and watched his friend, Legolas had heard the man speak in his fevered sleep about the wonders and beauties of the Evenstar. It still amazed Legolas that even through the fever, Aragorn spoke only elvish, obviously what his mind viewed as his native tongue. The words Aragorn spoke were enough to convince Legolas that the man was further devoted to Arwen than any other being in Middle Earth possibly could be. It chilled him to hear the beautiful and love wrought words that held such passion and reverence.

Still, Legolas longed for Aragorn to fully wake so that he would be relieved that the Ranger was well. As he continued to regard the man's sleeping form in mild curiosity, the door on the far side of the room opened nearly soundlessly. Legolas looked up to find his father entering, as silent as the stars in the skies. Thranduil stopped and looked down at the young Ranger, regarding the man for a few moments while his son looked on.

Legolas had not spoken to his father much after the King had finished setting Aragorn's arm. Since that time, Legolas had dealt with the Rangers and had sat at Aragorn's bedside, doing what he could for the man when he tossed with tremors and nightmares. He had only spoken to Thranduil to give his testimony regarding Cressen and the attack in the woods. Though perturbed, Thranduil had accepted Legolas' word that the situation had indeed been only a misunderstanding. He had reiterated to his youngest son again that he thought men were clearly not as intelligent as elves. Legolas had bit his tongue and praised Aragorn in opposition towards the King. Thranduil had said nothing and left his son to take care of Elrond's youngest son.

Minutes passed before Thranduil tore his eyes from Aragorn and walked slowly towards his son. Sensing that his father wished to talk, Legolas led him out onto the balcony and away from Aragorn so they would not chance waking him.

"He still sleeps," Thranduil posed the statement as if it was a question, but Legolas knew it brokered no answer.

"Duerlin says that the fever will pass this night and that he will be rested soon," was all Legolas said in response.

"I was nearly a fool, my son," Thranduil said suddenly, the words out of character for the noble elven lord. Legolas looked at him in surprise, eyes widening.

"Father?"

"There is so much that I fear you do not understand. The distrust that I hold for the edain race -" Thranduil trailed off.

"I would prefer if we did not speak of this father, you categorize all men and I believe that is not just," Legolas started to defend the race he had so recently become intrigued with, but Thranduil waved his hand in dismissal, stopping his son.

"I mean to explain my error, Legolas, peace for a moment and let an old elf talk." Legolas could only nod and stare at his father in trepidation of what he might say. "There are reasons why the elves of Mirkwood distrust the race of men. Reasons that far surpass your limited experience with these people, but when this group of Rangers arrived, I nearly let that distrust destroy hope in this bleak time."

"I don't understand Father. You gave Strider and the other Rangers refuge and medical help here." Legolas stared at his father, surprised and concerned. It was not often that Thranduil took this serious tone with him.

"Yes, but I was tempted not to and even with the keen eyesight and sense of the elves, I chose to ignore the fact that Estel stood before my own court bleeding and gravely wounded.

"Well it is not as if he would have accepted any of your help until he got what he wanted anyway," Legolas said, trying to sooth his father, but the elder-elf's eyes grew more clouded with self blame.

"Legolas had Estel been more gravely hurt, my lack of attention may have caused disaster."

"Father, what bothers you so?"

"Did not Elrond tell you? Estel - hope. The hope of men," Thranduil said quietly.

Legolas tipped his head to one side and glanced first at Aragorn, then back at his father. He paused, searching his father's grave face for any sense of how he should respond. Finally he spoke slowly. "Elrohir told me that he is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. The Heir of Isildur." Legolas' voice was so quiet that had there been another man in the room, he would not have heard the prince.

"Then you know of what I speak."

"I still do not entirely understand. I did not wish Estel to pass or to be wounded as he was, but Father, it is not as if the heirs of Isildur have not died before," Legolas tried to phrase the words as well as he could, aware that this may sound cold towards the well being of his new friend, but not meaning it in such context.

"Aragorn has no heir Legolas. But that is not all. You are correct, many of Isildur's descendants have passed out of this world, but you know of legend and of hope for the future. One day Isildur's heir must right the wrong of his forefather. Thus far, though they have been great men, none have come close, nor has the time been right."

"What are you saying father? I know the land is dark, but surely you don't fear -" Legolas trailed off, afraid to speak further. What did his father mean? The war was upon them already?

"I am telling you, my son, that the ranger who lies sleeping in this very room must overcome his heritage and one day take back the throne of Gondor. And I nearly prevented him from doing this," Thranduil turned to look at Aragorn, who slept on.

"While I was in Imladris, Estel took me to a place the twins often visited, and there I questioned the exile he had chosen. Elladan had told me of his hope for Aragorn, and while Estel and I were speaking, I saw what Elladan meant. He is meant to be King of Gondor. We spoke about exile for some time. He," here Legolas paused, feeling sadness. "He said he would give his sword and his life for his duty."

Thranduil nodded. "We should no longer speak of what is so dark," he said comfortingly, touching his son in a rare moment of physical interaction. "It was good of you to have brought him here. Please forgive me for my nearsightedness."

"Never fear father, for you never need to ask me for forgiveness. What part shall Mirkwood play when the future comes?"

"I fear I shall have to give something I care about greatly," Thranduil said, sadness and a deep sense of despair came into his eyes, but before Legolas could press him into explanation, the elf King had turned away and in a slight swoosh of robes, departed the room, glancing back only once to make sure the Ranger still slept.

As the door closed without a sound, Legolas stood on the balcony perplexed. He had little time to consider his father's words though, as the Ranger in the bed began to stir. For the moment, he put the thoughts off and went immediately to his friend.