Thank you for the reviews. I did receive them through e-mail, although ff.net seems to have since eaten them. Note: Stonehenge is in south-central England, not Scotland.

            "Legolas!  Gimli!"  Aragorn called as he heaved another stone to the side.  He slammed his palm against the wall of fallen rock and wiped sweat away from his brow.

            "Begging your pardon, my Lord, but this is hopeless."  General Mangor waved his arm at the caved in opening and shook his head wearily. "We've been hauling away stone for nigh on three hours now and there's nary a peep from them.  They were either killed in the fall, or the rocks go back so far they cannot hear us.  If I may, perhaps our efforts would be better spent finding another entrance?"

            At the word 'killed', Sam buried his head into the scruff of Maggie's neck.  Frodo laid his hand on Sam's shoulder and sank to his knees next to him.

            Aragorn breathed heavily, still glaring angrily at the cave-in. "We were told this is the only entrance."

            General Mangor rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps the people were not entirely…honest with you, Lord Aragorn.  If they worship this witch, as you say, they might not have-" He stopped abruptly as Aragorn turned suddenly to face him.

            "Take your men, General, and go east around the mountain.  I will take mine and go west.  Should you find entry, send a runner immediately.  Go!  Time runs short!"

            With Elves and Hobbits following, Aragorn struck out, following the mountain's base.  Sam and Frodo looked at one another, then followed.  By nightfall, the sheer side of the mountain was beginning to slough off, and the group had entered a dark forest that ran into the base of the rock.

            Hesitating at the entrance, Elrond slid his hand lightly up the trunk of an enormous tree.  He closed his eyes in concentration then blinked up thoughtfully at the low-hanging branches. "There is old magic here.  Very old magic, indeed."  Sam eyed the limbs over him fearfully and edged closer to Frodo and Merry.

            "What choice have we?" Aragorn asked wearily. Elrond nodded slowly, still watching overhead.

Drawing his sword, Aragorn led the way down the dark path. "But all should keep watch."

*********

            "Wait—slow down!" Miranda wheezed as she paused, clutching her side.  Brief annoyance skimmed Gimli's face, but he stopped, resting his axe and examining the tunnel.

            "Here, eat this."  Legolas appeared next to Miranda's hunched over body and offered her lembas.

            **Yay.  More crackers,** Miranda thought bitterly as she tried to choke a bite down.  They had little water, and she felt guilty.  She was two steps away from needing an ambulance, while Gimli was barely breaking a sweat.  Legolas, of course, showed no outward signs of exertion at all.  Miranda mentally bared her teeth at him.  She knew she was slowing them down, but she went as fast as she could.

            They had traveled through tunnels for nearly seven days.  The water was nearly gone, although the lembas would hold out.  There was no outside light.  The little illumination they had was a small torch Legolas carried. 

**Good thing Gimli was in the Boy Scouts,** Miranda had thought as Gimli revealed the flint in his pocket. But the bits of wood they had found would not burn indefinitely, either.  They needed to get out of the tunnel, but it seemed unending.

She started as Legolas dropped beside her, breaking into her musings. "We should move on." His eyes darted from the darkness before them to the shadows behind. "There are foul creatures in these tunnels. I would we did not meet with any."  Gimli shuddered in affirmation, scrutinizing the floor.  Helping Miranda to her feet, Legolas took his torch again and led the way. Without being asked, Gimli fell behind, putting the weakest member of their trio in the middle.

As they continued on their way, the floor evened out.  Eventually, Miranda no longer need to concentrate solely on keeping her balance and allowed her mind to wander. Every night, or what they thought might be night, they had paused for a few hours to allow Miranda to sleep.  The first time had been awkward as she had lain near Legolas.  The second night had been slightly less so and by the previous night, he had spoken to her, softly, for quite some time.

Some mad impulse had caused her to ask him what he intended to do if they made it out of the mountain alive.  She had been joking, but he had answered seriously.  He told her about his dream of returning to Ithilien, of bringing his people back to his ancestral home. His face had become drawn and pensive as he'd spoken of his father.  He spoke of Thranduil in conflicting tones.  He admired his father and thought him a kind, just leader, but staid and stagnant.  The world was changing around them and Legolas wanted to change with it.  His people, however, his family, wanted to preserve their lives as it was.

He had seemed so passionate, so wistful, that Miranda found herself wanting to throw her arms around him and tell him it would all work out in the end.  This had stopped her cold.

**Since when have I become the hand-holder?** she thought, stunned.  What did this mean?  For the first time, Miranda acknowledged to herself that she felt more than mere lust for him.  But this…this was a scary thought.

**I can't be in…in love with him!  I just can't be!  I mean, I barely know him –**

She stared at Legolas's back in surprise.  She did sort of know him.  She knew his looks, his angry eyebrow lift, his happy eyebrow lift, his excited temple tic… She knew his private dreams and the way his lips tasted… She knew him to be kind and patient, though at times harsh and demanding.  She knew he hid his ardor for living behind Elfish aloofness. 

She knew he was arrogant and confident, but also loyal and open-minded.

**Argh!** So she had feelings for him.  Strong feelings.  That didn't mean she could just jump into his life and live happily ever after.  This wasn't like the stories where Cinderella and Prince Charming kissed and the rest of their lives could be summed up in a sentence.

            What if she did love Legolas?  What would her life with him be like? What place would she hold in his life? He would be busy, creating a new city, a new way of life and she? She would find herself set in a room somewhere, safe, taken care of, and utterly bored.

What could she do? She had virtually no skills --none that would do her any good here, at least. What did women do here? Sit and read? Stare out the window? Sew? Miranda looked down at her hands. They were filthy; the nails had been ripped and bitten to the quick. Her palms bore thick calluses from the long months of learning to use a sword. A thick white scar wrapped around the base of her left thumb, a reminder to never guide the sword into its sheath with her palm.

No, a lady she could never be. And there were other issues, too, to consider. She was definitely attracted to him and cared for him, but did she truly love him? She thought she loved Dave…but she got over him quickly enough.

And what of him? Did he love her? Could he love her? And what happened when she grew old, and fat and sick, while he was ever young and beautiful?

And what of children? Would he want children?  Could they even produce children, being of possibly dissimilar species?  Could she face childbirth in a place without doctors and drugs and amniocentesis?

She pictured herself ironing his tunics and breeches, baking bread and trying to make friends with the beautiful, perfect Elf-maidens, who made her feel more inadequate than she ever had felt before.

On the other hand, could she return to her own world? In spite of her raw nerves, frozen fingers and dry throat…this was….well, kind of exciting.  She was on a mission to save someone!  How could she return to everyday life where nothing was exciting, everything predictable, where she would resume the monotony of mediocrity? She tried of bring a mental picture of Dave forth, but only Legolas's face swam before her.

Could any other man ever measure up?

Could she leave Sam after everything he had done for her? Could she bear never seeing Merry and Pippin and Frodo again?

Sighing, she pushed the ambivalent thoughts away and concentrated on the dry, scratchy feeling in her throat. They needed water and soon.

Legolas heard her sigh and looked back, catching a glimpse of Miranda as she rubbed her hand wearily across her eyes. She stumbled slightly on a rock and swore. Behind her, Legolas could hear Gimli's rasping breath. They had run out of water the previous morning.

Legolas knew than both humans and dwarfs needed water daily and could go only a few days without it. Every nerve was screaming that they were being followed; yet he heard and saw nothing. A few hours before, the tunnel had given way to a large cavern, faintly lit from unseen sources. It reminded him terribly of Khazad-dûm and he wanted nothing more than to get away. The pain of losing Gandalf, though he returned, was still fresh within his heart.

At the same time, however, he felt happy for the first time in weeks. They had developed a new closeness in the past week -- a new trust. She smiled at him often again, in spite of their hardships.  He thought of the previous evening, when she had spoken briefly about things she missed from her world.

"There are so many beautiful things I wish I could share!  I spent a summer traveling through a place called Italy.  It has many….romantic connotations for people in my world.  I, um, I'd been traveling alone for nearly two months - the only people I spoke with were shopkeepers and beggars.  I was so lonely.  And then one night I came across a concert, three famous singers giving a free concert outside of the ruins of an ancient building called the Coliseum.  It was night and balmy outside and thousands of people were sitting on walls and the ground-- lovers and friends and families with children, all sitting together and listening to this music, loving this music. It was magical. I felt—I felt like I'd come home."  She looked away, embarrassed as tears slipped down her cheeks.  "I didn't talk to a single person.   I didn't have to.  There was a connection in  just being there." She shook her head, slightly.  "I'm sorry-  I don't know why I'm telling you this…"

He took her hand in his, and started to speak, haltingly, of his travels with Gimli the previous year.  He told her of his life-long dislike of all things dwarfish and of his surprise that Dwarfs were not what he had thought.

"He was rude, foolhardy, and clumsy and he rather smelled," Legolas smiled, "But he did not hesitate to give his all.  And he fell in love with the Lady of the Wood and earned her esteem.  He is loyal and true and a worthy ally."

Without meaning to, he had then spoken of Ithilien and his dream of restoring it to its former glory.  He had never told anyone of this before and found himself anxious that she might find his visions full of folly.  But she had admired him for them.

A loud crack from above started Legolas briefly, but his quick reflexes had his arrow cocked and pointed toward the shadowy ceiling in seconds. Gimli had raised his axe and Miranda stood with her sword drawn, though fear was etched on her face.

A smoky figure appeared high above them, wavering slightly.

"You are not the one I seek," came a low, raspy voice.  The figure seemed to examine each of the three in turn and then gave a low, eerie call.  The hair rose on the back of Legolas's neck and he lowered his arrow slightly as he saw movement lower down.

"Where is the lady Arwen?" Legolas called out. Gimli shook his axe menacingly.  The figure seemed to solidify, but was too far away to see in detail.

"None of you is the one who will help me," it said.  "Kill them."  The figure disappeared from view entirely.

"Kill us?" Miranda said nervously.  "Who-who was she talking to?"  Before the words were entirely out of her mouth, her questioned was answered.  Coming towards them, materializing from the shadows were wolves.  But these were unlike any Miranda had seen before.  Nearly as large as a pony with glowing green eyes, they snarled and snapped as they crawled down the wall.  Instead of paws, they had four hands with long, lethal-looking claws.  They scaled down the walls and came for the three intruders.

"Run!"  Miranda turned and ran, her hearting hammering painfully and her sword heavy in her hand.  Gimli and Legolas would have easily outrun her, had Legolas not grabbed the collar of her cloak and hauled her along.  They ducked through a cave that led onto varied level cavern.  A dull red light lit the way. 

Suddenly a black blur appeared before Miranda's eyes and she was lifted into the air. The four-inch long claws dug into her upper arm as she struggled.  An enormous shaggy head drew near her own, revealing sharp, yellow teeth.  As it opened it's mouth the bite, Miranda heard a loud twang and felt the wolf shudder as the arrow pierced it's left eye.  It howled in pain and threw Miranda down.  She fell past Legolas and Gimli, screaming as the ground rushed up to meet her.  Like a nightmare, it seemed to slow down as she hit the ground, one leg tucked beneath her and the other outstretched.  A sickening crack tore through her body and she heard the snap of her thigh bone as she slammed into the rocky ground.

"Miranda!"  she heard a distant voice call.  Dimly, she looked around, a dull ringing in her ears.  Everything seemed far away.  Then her eyes drifted down and she saw the odd angle at which her right leg lay. 

**Going to be sick,** she thought randomly as she threw up messily.  Heavy boots landed beside her and she looked up blearily, expecting Gimli.  The boots, however, fell over to each side and at first, Miranda did not understand what she was seeing.  Then, as something else slammed into the rock next to her, she realized what had happened.  Her mouth opened in a hysterical scream and she couldn't stop.

Miranda pulled away in horror, the red glow reflecting in her widened eyes.
Where his legs had been were left stumps, white bone thrusting out of red gore. Her stomach revolted again, but there was no time. No time! Legolas appeared as suddenly as if he'd been transported.
            "Gimli!" His voice has harsh, at once terrified and panicked. "Gimli!" he cried again, attempting to pick up the dying Dwarf. The wolves were nearly upon them, thousands of repugnant monsters drooling and gasping at the sight of the three travelers.

Gimli coughed, spat blood and growled, "Put me down, you addle-brained Elf!" His voice was barely a whisper. He grasped the short dagger from his belt and thrust it at Legolas. "Do it!" He commanded, his breathe coming out hoarse and painful. Legolas drew back in horror, shaking his head.
            "No! I can carry you both! Somehow I-" Gimli shook his head, frustration evident in the sweat beading his low brow.
            "No time!" He said. He was gasping for air, his skin already paling and growing cold. "Miranda-.....help her....I'm done." He motioned vaguely towards his torn thighs. The hideous screaming of the wolves was nearer. They were crawling down from the top of the cliff.
            "You know.....what.... they will do! The wolves! What they'll do to me..." Gimli panted, pain radiating from every feature. He again pushed at the dagger in Legolas's hand, his movements weak. Still Legolas shook his head.
            "I cannot! O dear friend–– I cannot!"
            "DO IT!" roared Gimli, his eyes reddening. As the first wolf dropped beside them, Miranda grabbed her knife and awkwardly lunged just as Legolas plunged the dagger deep into Gimli's carotid. His eyes dead, Legolas heaved Miranda over his shoulder and ran swiftly over the rocks. His heart thudded dully in his own ears and his thoughts were vacant.

Quite suddenly the path ran into a low hanging rock and he burst through into a dense forest. He ran for nearly two miles before realizing he was slogging waist deep through a river.
            Coming back to himself, he laid Miranda gently on the bank and tended to her wounds. Her right leg was broken in two places and he pushed it back into place with a sickening crunch. Her face was smeared with blood––her own, the wolf's and, Legolas realized, Gimli's. As the sun rose, appearing faintly through the leaves, Miranda slept, and Legolas stared into the sun; the only thought in his mind was the mental picture of Gimli pleading with him… to die honourably. As the sunlight broke through the canopy above, Legolas closed his eyes and slept dreamlessly for the first time in a thousand years.