The blue veil of night was descending over Ithilien, and Legolas stood alone at the base of the mast of his ship.  It had been a long day, but a productive one.  The deck was nearly complete.  All the others had left for their lodgings, but he wanted to check up on all that had been done before returning home.  Home!  The bright world that was Valinor called out to him from behind the curtains of memory, and he longed for it with every fiber of his body.  Leaving had been difficult, but he knew that if he remained there without Nimoë, he would never truly have peace, as his mind would dwell forever upon the shores of Middle Earth.

Now, though.  Now his Nimoë was with him, and their son, and he ached to bring them to the destined home of their people.  He smiled as he imagined the look on Nimoë's face when she looked upon the beauty and wonder of the Undying Lands, when she heard the music that fluttered like birdsong upon the very air.  He smiled.  For that one thing, all the suffering and hardship had been worthwhile.  Not for the Men of Middle Earth, not even for the remaining Elves, would he have left Valinor.  Only for her.

Starlight sparkled above, and Legolas raised his face to feel the soft glow upon his cheeks.  He closed his eyes.  So like her touch, were the starlight and moonlight.  Soft, reassuring, a light in dark places.  He felt the corners of his lips curl up.  No need to linger.  Nimoë would be waiting.

He turned away from the mast, and leapt back in shock as a missile shot past his face, burrowing deep into the sturdy wood of the mast.  Battle-trained reflexes sent him into a crouch, beneath the level of the ship's railings, and he reached for his bow that wasn't there.  He cursed silently.  When no other arrow followed the first, he rose slowly, his keen eyes searching for any sign of who had fired, but nothing moved in the darkness.

A slight fluttering caught his eye, and he reached for the arrow.  A message had been wrapped around the shaft.  He tore the arrow from the mast and unwrapped the message with trembling fingers.  Nothing good could come from missives delivered in such a fashion.

His eyes scanned the note and his face went pale, then white.  He crumpled the message into his fist and ran for the stairs, pulse pounding in his ears.  It couldn't be!

Gilmin took a long pull on his pipe and regarded the remains of his dinner.  "A fine meal, Raven, but I find the taste grows dull with overuse.  Long have I been away from the halls of my people.  There the meat has a special robustness, and the ale is strong."

Raven leaned back in his chair, and his dark eyes held a faraway look.  "It is true that we have been long away from your mountain, but longer still have my folk been parted from the Shire.  Prince Eomiren has promised to seek a writ from the King of Gondor restoring to us what was once ours.  I can scarce recall what it was like to dwell in the comfort of a good hole, with jolly countrymen about me."

"Soon, my friend.  Soon we will be on our way.  Do you regret your choice?"

"To remain until the Elves have departed?  Nay.  This is no simple leave-taking, where we may meet again in a few years' time.  Our friends leave us forever.  I would spend what time with them I may."

Gilmin nodded and pulled again at his pipe.  The room was comfortably lit with tall tapers, and smoke curled lazily around the ceiling.  The Dwarf and Hobbit lapsed into peaceful silence.

Abruptly, the door slammed open.  Rave, who had been leaning well back in his chair, toppled, and Gilmin leapt to his feet, reaching for his belt axe.

When he saw who had burst in upon them, he cried, "Legolas?"

The Elf prince brandished a crumpled piece of parchment in front of him and his eyes shone wild.  "They've taken them.  My wife and my son!  They've taken them!"

Raven, who had righted his chair grabbed the parchment and read it aloud.  "They have taken your Lady, Prince of Elves, and your child.  I saw this happen with my own eyes.  The She-Elf has been bound and gagged, and the boy was unconscious when they passed from my sight.  Men, fell men, they were, ragged and tattered, and I head them speak in a tongue like unto the common speech, but twisted and foul.  I know not where they were taken, but I hear them speak of the 'Elf-Witch.'  I fear they will seek to bend her to their will."

"Who sent this?" Gilmin asked.

"There was no name," Legolas replied.  "It was shot within a handsbreadth of my head.  I have been to our home.  They are not there, and they were not with Tinunél.  I fear this is truth."  He gestured towards the parchment.  "I fear this is truth."

"What do you know?" Raven asked.  "Where were they going?"

"To the forest.  Nimoë wanted Darion to smell the trees…"

"Legolas," said Gilmin, "I will not insult you by saying they are fine.  But Nimoë is resourceful, and she is built of sterner stuff than the stone.  She will be ready if they give her an opening."

Legolas shook his head, and his eyes held a faraway look.  "It has happened before.  During the War of the Ring.  She was gagged and held captive in Rohan.  She nearly lost her mind."  He fixed the Dwarf with his piercing blue eyes.  "We must find them quickly."

"Gather the Elves, and we will ask Eomiren for aid."

"No, Raven.  There is no time."

Gilmin said,  "You know that we will aid you, but where can begin to look?  The forest is no small place."

Legolas pulled a broken arrow out of his quiver, and held it in front of the Dwarf and the Hobbit.  "There was no name upon this parchment, but the arrow itself bore a clue.  See this leaf that has been pierced through?  This tree grows only in a small area.  I believe it is a clue.  We will search there first."

Raven looked at him skeptically.  "Could it not also be a trap?"

Legolas nodded, but already had his hand to the door.  "I will take that risk."

The Dwarf and the Hobbit checked their weaponry then joined him.  "We are with you," Gilmin swore, clasping the Elf's forearm.

Legolas returned the grasp, and laid his other hand on Raven's shoulder.  "I knew I could count on you.  Come."