A/N: So, here it is: Chapter three.

In the middle of the chapter there is an inner debate going on in Gimli's mind – there are NOT two people speaking, it is merely himself thinking from two different point of views. Just wanted to have it mentioned in case Fanfiction.net doesn't show my quotation marks properly…

So then, I hope you enjoy it. Please read and review! Constructive critics are welcome!!!

Disclaimer: The little poem belongs to Tolkien, as do all the characters. It appears first in the chapter "Strider" and secondly at the "Council of Elrond".  (Just for those who are interested: I also took a piece from the last two sentences of this chapter out of "LotR" – chapter: The Riders of Rohan)

Setting out for Minas Tirith

As the sun was already sinking the four set out. Legolas had not helped them to gather their things, his mind had been preoccupied with thinking about Aragorn's pendant. He still was fairly convinced that the man had taken the second boat and left for Minas Tirith where he would ride to battle in front of a great host to overtake Sauron and free Middle Earth from the shadows. The Elf knew that Aragorn was Elendil's and Isildur's heir, descended through many fathers in a line unbroken, and that he was the rightful heir of the throne of Gondor. He still remembered exactly the words Bilbo had said at the great council in Rivendell.

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken:

The crownless again shall be king.

At these words Aragorn had thrown his broken sword on the table and to everyone it seemed that great royalty had been revealed in him and the ranger clad in weather stained clothes had vanished. No further words of this matter had been spoken later, though. But still Legolas knew that an ancient prophecy of Gondor said that the Broken Sword, once it was found again, would bring doom to Middle Earth and that with it, a king would return to his throne to fight Sauron.

So Aragorn had been right in that night days ago. Either he would defeat Sauron and receive the Scepter of Annúminas as the token of the kings of the days of old, or Sauron would defeat him and Middle Earth would become a dark land, no sun would then shine upon it beyond the end of the world.

This day they walked on for seven hours until midnight had passed, only then they decided to rest for a while. The Hobbits had fallen asleep as soon as their heads had touched the ground, but Legolas had not forgotten his fear for Aragorn. He sat down next to Gimli who had been chosen to have the first watch. The Dwarf slowly smoked his pipe, neither said anything. The night was dark, clouds were hiding the moon, but still Legolas could see the mountain range rising into the sky at the western border of Mordor when he was looking eastward.

"Something bothers you, my friend." Gimli finally said.

The Elf did not answer at once. He just stared at the ground, the long blond hair covering part of his face. He did not know how to express the feelings he had. In the last hours, while they had been walking, his certainty about Aragorn's fate had dwindled and now he almost was sure that the tall Man had been captured by the Orcs.

"You don't think that Aragorn has truly left for Minas Tirith, do you?" Gimli then asked after Legolas had not replied.

The Elf lifted his head, a hint of surprise was written over his face.

"You know me too well that I could hide something from you," Legolas sighed. "Yes, I am worried about his fate. I do not believe that he has just taken a boat and went down the river without even telling us. It does not look like him to leave his friends in peril."

"You sure are right about that," Gimli nodded. "But I think there is another thing that caused you to worry as much as you do now. Not only that he has left without leaving a message. Something different."

Legolas hesitated for a moment. "You are right once again," he slowly replied. "When I had left you at the river bank to get some Orc scimitars for Boromir's honor, I happened to find something lying in the grass. It was sparkling in the light of the sun, otherwise I would have missed it completely." The Elf paused for a moment.

"It was Aragorn's necklace, the leather torn and frayed."

A moment of silence. "Could he not just have lost it?"

"I do not think so. I know that it was the thing most precious to Aragorn. In a night, merely some days ago, I could not rest and I talked to him while he was on watch. He revealed to me that this necklace was a present from Arwen, daughter of Elrond half-Elven, his love, and that it was the only thing of her that he had with him to be reminded of her in every moment of his journeys."

Gimli was silent for some minutes. "I, though, think that he has just lost it," he said then. "Leather can wear out, can tear any time. That it was frayed doesn't make me think differently either. I still guess that Aragorn got urgent tidings from Minas Tirith and had to go. After all, if things had happened as you think, Aragorn must have been captured by Orcs and I cannot believe in that. He is a tall and courageous man, wields his sword better than anyone I know. We would have found more Orcs lying there slain, but all of those seemed to have been killed by Boromir. Alas, that he is dead!"

Although feeling better now, Legolas was not utterly convinced yet. He respected Gimli's opinion and hoped that it was true and not his still fairly undetermined feeling of great peril for Aragorn.

For some time they both were sitting in silence, then Gimli started to yawn.

"Go to sleep, my friend," Legolas said. "My mind cannot rest now and you need it. I will take over your watch."

The Elf kept watching until the early light of dawn next morning, then he woke the others. After a short breakfast they set out again. The way to Fangorn still would be a long one and they wanted to cover the leagues as fast as they could to arrive in Minas Tirith soon enough to take part in the great battle against the Dark Lord.

Legolas took lead, of the rest of the company he knew the way through Rohan, which they had entered immediately after leaving Anduin the day before, best. The whole day they walked on, above them the late autumn sun, rising, wandering across the sky, finally setting in the west, far ahead of them. They only interrupted their journey with short breaks to eat and to rest for a while, they even walked on as darkness finally covered the land completely. Almost for eighteen hours they had been on their feet and the Hobbits were likely to fall down wherever they stood at the moment. 

During the day Merry and Pippin had merely been thinking about Frodo and Sam. With them they had set out from the Shire and they did not understand why the two had not taken them with them. After all, they had always been close friends and now they were just left behind. Of course, they had come to like Legolas and Gimli, but in a way, they felt lost. 'Just a Dwarf and an Elf around us, no Hobbit, no one that understands us properly,' Pippin had thought. To Legolas and Gimli it seemed that the Hobbits still did not have realized how perilous Frodo's quest was, since Merry had asked them whether they would see Frodo and Sam again in a few days or if it would take more than a week.

Just before they laid down to sleep, Pippin drowsily asked: "How long will it take Aragorn to get to Minas Tirith?"

Legolas merely shook his head. He had forgotten that he had not even told the Hobbits about finding the necklace in the grass. They still had to think that the Ranger just took the boat and had left. "I do not know," he then answered softly. "I have not traveled southward on the Anduin before."

The third day of their journey passed as the one before. Somehow they all were driven by an inner voice to go as fast as they could. 'Go on, go on', it seemed to say. 'Your fate awaits you.' Even the Hobbits who were not used to cover that much way in such short time did not complain. They marched on in silence, for talking would need to much of their strength. Also, neither knew what to say: The land was bare, only brown grass could be seen as far as their eyes reached. No hills, just monotonous even plains without trees, no hint of green around them.

Merry and Pippin used to walk in front, their faces tired and worn out. Gimli, who followed, showed a stout expression, as a Dwarf he thought it to be his duty not to complain about any work, be it lifting stones or walking on for hours and hours. He sighed, though, since he saw Legolas keeping some feet of distance between him and his friends. Not that they had argued or that he had reason to be angry about them, but the Dwarf feared that Legolas' mind was preoccupied with thinking about Aragorn's fate. "He should not do that," Gimli muttered, "his worry is useless. He should concentrate on our journey, we're traveling through unknown lands, he is the only one who really knows where to go. Aragorn will safely be in Minas Tirith right now and in this very moment he might even be mounting his horse to lead his men into battle against Sauron."

'And what, if Legolas had been right?'

'No, Aragorn had not been captured by the Orcs. He has just lost his necklace.'

'It might have been torn from his neck.'

'Never. Aragorn would have slain the Orcs and no one would have had the chance to put hands on him.'

'And what, if they had been far too many for him to kill?'

Although Gimli found no answer to this question of his inner voice, the debate within his mind went on, he tried to convince himself that Aragorn was well and that no peril lay ahead of him. He completely suppressed the thought that Legolas could be right.

The Elf himself had not even noticed the occasional glances from Gimli, he just wanted to be alone, no one should disturb him. Since he had met Aragorn in Rivendell, they had become quite close, maybe the Man's almost Elvish attitude to life was one of the reasons why he could talk to Aragorn far better than to any other of the company. Of course, his comrades – especially Gimli – had become friends either, but with Aragorn he had developed a special bond that was not as easy visible and understandable as his friendship with the Dwarf. It somehow was more complicated and less apparent. Often, they had sat together in the nights, during one of their watches, and had talked to each other. Legolas knew that if it had been otherwise, he had never gotten to know about Arwen. Aragorn had not told many – the Elf guessed, that save Elrond, his two sons, Aragorn's mother Gilraen and Gandalf no one had reason to suspect anything of their love. Even after being in Rivendell with them, he also would not have noticed, if Aragorn had not told him. 'A lot of trust has he placed in me in that night when he revealed his heart,' Legolas thought, 'I cannot leave him now when he might need me more than he ever had before.'

During the hours they were marching on, his fears about Aragorn increased again.

'After all,' Legolas said to himself, 'Sauron would achieve great victory in having captured Aragorn. The prophesied king would be in his hands, and if he would also get the ring…' The Elf knew that doom would come to Middle Earth then and the Dark Lord would be able to enslave all free people. The lands would be covered by eternal darkness, the forecast king who had given hope to Elves, Men and Dwarfes, would not come.

'Alas,' the Elf thought, 'if Aragorn has fallen into the hands of Sauron, Middle Earth will be lost. Without a king leading our people against his hosts, they will take over the land and everything that made Middle Earth a fair place will disappear.

Still, though, the Ring is not in his hands, and without it he cannot use the ultimate power yet, but even if Frodo will not fail, victory is far away without a king unifying the so long separated people. The prophecy says that Middle Earth can only be saved by a king who wields the Sword that was Broken and if he does not find a way, no one will.'

Legolas realized for the first time with all its clearness how great Aragorn's burden had to be. A burden he did not want to bear himself, if he was completely honest. To know that if he made a single mistake, everything would be lost… 'I could not do that,' Legolas thought. 'Aragorn must be even stronger than he seems to be. He must have a great spirit, a will that is not easy to be suppress.'

His mind being preoccupied with these thoughts, the Elf was the last of the company to notice the line of dark shadows suddenly rising into the sky at the western horizon. A short time after noon on the fourth day of their journey they finally had come close to the eastern eaves of Fangorn, the Old Forest, of which even Lord Celeborn had warned them to enter. High trees, their trunks covered with moss, stretched their branches to the sky. Suddenly a strange smell was in the air, it almost felt alive but at the same time older than the ancient tales of Men. It seemed to be a strange land, indeed, and the hearts of the four comrades told them to refuse entering the forest. The friends stood there, waiting, no one wanted to be the first to go.

They felt great fear, they were almost as terrified as they had been in Moria when Gandalf had fallen.

"Aragorn would not have hesitated," Merry suddenly whispered quietly.

Legolas looked at him and frowned for a moment. The Hobbit was right. The Man would just have entered the forest as he had treaded every unknown path before – with courage and without being afraid.

"You are right, Merry, we do not have reason to fear. After all, everything that is told about Fangorn comes from the old tales of Men and no one knows whether it once was true." He paused for a short moment. "We should follow Lord Celeborn's advice, though, and not cut any living trees for fire. The nights are cold, I know, but if we really need warmth, we can take the branches lying on the ground. Lord Celeborn would not have warned us if there had not been even a single trace of truth in the old tales. No one has entered Fangorn for a long time and if one indeed had, he brought no tidings with him, so we do not know what creatures are living in there. Once, I recall, I heard a song of my people, in which it was said, that the Onodrim, which Men call Ents, dwelt there long ago. For Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it. Together with the forest at the Barrow-downs it is the last stronghold of the mighty woods of the Elder Days, in which the Firstborn roamed and Men still slept."

To be continued!

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