**Re-written**

Chapter 3

Something caught his attention as he flew over the hilly land of Rohan, the wind howling in his ears.

He called his proud horse Shadowfax to halt. He was surprised at the stallion' reaction – he did not obey. Again he asked and the horse threw up his head and finally stopped, his front hooves scraping the grass beneath – mud and tuff flew around them. Never before had the Lord of Horses react like this, was it a warning sign?

Despite his long years of wisdom the old wizard did not heed to it but continued to stare at the creatures in front of him.

Of course he had heard of Mirkwood's ambush and Aragorn's escape from Rivendell to hunt for his friend, Legolas.

Was he staring at the only survivor? Or another lost, beaten, poor person?

The figure continued blindly towards the wizard and his horse, from his horseback Gandalf could see the figure limped, his clothes torn, splattered mud, blood and soot. His mattered blond hair hacked roughly at ear length, face hidden under layers of dirt but in his shacking hands he gripped them so tightly as if his life depended on it Gandalf could see the glittering flash of sliver of a pair of sharp knives.

 The wizard felt sympatric watching the limping figure near him, still unaware of his presence. Exhausted, his body shifted slowly along, his feet occasionally catching the ground in he pushed himself onwards.

His once bright, cheerful eyes where now dim and filled with pain, pain that neither he nor anyone could ever find the words to match. But beyond that was something else something deeper and far worse…

The tired figure finally saw the wizard and his horse and stopped immediately. He shielded his face with a battered arm and squinted up at the rider, his mind slowly working to register the face.

He went to open his mouth but no sound could be heard.

Gandalf quickly catching Legolas before his trembling legs gave way beneath him. The wizard shook his head: elves were such proud and stubborn creatures. , even in his exhausted state Legolas fought to stand wished to hide his weakness.

He was fighting a losing battle trying to keep himself upright and awake, now feeling strangely secure with Gandalf at his side. He longed to sleep, rest, to close his eyes and forget the past days witnessing flames lick his home, endless numbers of orcs approaching one after another, all the hours of loneliness and pain he had endured hiking from country to country feeling bound to answer Lord Elrond's call.
 Now these washed away as he was no longer able to keep himself awake – had he let himself down or had Gandalf silently overcome him with a spell? It did not matter – sleep was blissful.

Once mounted, one arm held the sleeping elf secure they rode into the midday sun. The ground speeding past and the winded whistling loudly in their ears. Beneath him Shadowfax rose hard, outstripping the birds above flying through the clear sky. The stallion could sense something his mater could not and wished to be as far away as possible.

 The Gap of Rohan neared and Gandalf cried out a loud in shook – Isengard stood tall and dry, rebuilt, waiting for its new and probably equally evil new occupier.

 Gently adding pressure with his heels Shadowfax shot away, Legolas shivering in the arms, yet his skin burned.

Despite riding as fast as the wind blows Gandalf did not miss a beat. Ahead of him he saw the wisps of smoke as night began to fall, the smoke from a campfire. Slowing Shadowfax once again Gandalf knew who had lit the fire and sure enough he saw the man first.

"Hurry Aragorn, we must return to Rivendell" he spoke into the shadows towards the resting man sat.

Removing his hand from his blade Aragorn stared at the wizard sitting on his impatient horse.

"I must continue my search"

"Nay, you do not. I have Legolas here"

Aragorn leapt to his feet at those words, the one he'd feared dead was wrapped in Gandalf's cloak sleeping. He took in his blooded form and nodded. Time was against them.

"Where did you find him?"

"Wondering the plans of Rohan"

 "What of the enemy?"

"I have naught of them"

"And of Mirkwood?"

"I do not know. Gather your things we must leave quickly. I fear the time ahead, Aragorn, Isnegard has been re-built"

"I cannot ride as swiftly as Shadowfax. My mare is tired." Aragorn said.

"Lead her to me"

Obediently Aragorn lead his mare over to Gandalf, keeping a steady grip on the restless elf he muttered words to Aragorn's horse, the mare pricked her ears as tiredness left her bones. Rearing with excitement she watched Aragorn pleading to be ridden.

"She will ride as swiftly as the wind blows. Come we must not waste anymore time"

 Kicking dirt over the flames and picking up his baggage Aragorn mounted swiftly the pair moved off with Shadowfax leading the way.

Aragorn was surprised by his own mares' new speed as she raced happily alongside Shadowfax, the ground passing underneath them in a blur.

He caught a glance at Legolas defeated and exhausted form and felt anger build – he wanted to find the one who had done this and return the damage.

Suddenly Legolas screamed.

Never before could either men or horses forget the scream of terror and pain the elf emitted.

But Aragorn shuddered the most violently that scream was strangely familiar…