(Author's note: Legolas arrives in Rivendell and has a little meeting with a certain Gondorian captain ;) . I borrowed some of the Master's words in this one. I also liked the movie scene of the Nine riding up (or walking, as in Gimli's case) through the gates and into Rivendell, so I tweaked that a little bit. Aragorn and Legolas reunite at last in the party before the Council. Enjoy, and thank you for the kind reviews, it really brightens my spirits! –Rilwen )

-=~**The Prodigal's Son**~=-

Chapter 12

The world was spinning. No root or tonic could calm the nausea in his stomach, and no poultice could soothe the throbbing pain in his muscles. One hundred and ten days he had traveled alone, left at the mercy of the forces of nature with nothing but the gear he and his horse could carry. He had lost his horse numerous times, and had to bear the annoyance of delaying his journey to find a town that would provide him with a new one; but he would not give up.

This Man was too stubborn to give up no matter what the circumstance. He feared nothing, and very little brought shock or surprise to his soul. In his many battles, conquests and defeats, Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, had seen and lived through almost all. Yet the Elves always lit a spark of interest in his deep gray eyes, even if he would not admit it because of the distrust that also came with that spark.

Unlike his younger brother Faramir, Boromir was not one to study the arts or music, or any Elven lore whatsoever. As the eldest son, it was his job to keep his people and his city safe and orderly; there simply was no time for studies when he could be perfecting his skills with the sword. Despite Faramir's various duties, every time the Man found his little brother it was with his nose buried in a book.

Oh dear brother, no two people could match our bond despite how completely different we are.

The memory of that conversation brought a small smile to Boromir's lips. Then another memory crossed his mind.

Seek for the Sword that was broken,

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsels taken

Stronger than Morgul-spells.

There shall be shown a token

That Doom is near at hand,

For Isildur's Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand.

Isildur's Bane. Too many months has this blasted riddle trouble us both, Faramir. Too long have our rests been disrupted by that pale light ever-shining in the West. But now for both of us, little brother, I will seek the help of the Elves you adore so much. How glad am I that I took this journey off your shoulders; I would have been a terrible Captain spending all my time worrying about your welfare.

Boromir halted his horse to take a drink from his flask. At last, after many days of wandering near the Ford, he had finally found Imladris. If only he had more strength in him, he would stare in awe at the Elven realm for it was truly beautiful. With a wince for the soreness in his muscles, Boromir swung his leg over his steed and dismounted, grateful to have solid ground under his feet instead of stirrups. As he ran his hands through his long black hair he could have sworn he caught a glimmer of light out of the corner of his eye. His strong hands immediately grasped the hilt of his sword as he turned to the left and waited.

The light's source was an Elf and his horse riding through the main gate of Rivendell. Boromir could not decide which of the two was lovelier to behold; the glimmering gray horse or the fair Elf that rode it. Always keeping his guard, with his hand on the sword hilt still, the son of Denethor slowly approached the Elf who now dismounted without the slightest step or bounce.

"Night falls and yet your light is never-fading. Tell me Elf, what is your name and why have you come?"

Legolas Greenleaf looked at the man of Gondor, immediately noticing how ready he was to unsheathe his sword. He was dirty from travel and obviously weary, but clad in beautiful fabrics and a fur-lined cloak. A great ox horn detailed with gold rested about his waist on a baldric, and the shield slung on his back was finely wrought and sturdy. Like his friend Aragorn, the man was tall although broader than the Ranger, but he too had the dark hair and gleaming gray eyes of the men of Gondor. Legolas was glad to see a Man from that great land, but somehow the Elf doubted the traveler felt the same about him. The look on his fair and noble face was of suspicion and a slight arrogance.

"I am Legolas Greenleaf of the Mirkwood Elves. Thranduil the Golden Haired is their king, and I am his son. I seek the advice of Elrond Half-Elven on the dire situation in my home."

Boromir bowed with respect and rose again.

"Royalty then. Well Lord Legolas, I assume the Elves of Imladris will regard you highly. I am Boromir, Captain of Gondor and son of the Steward Denethor. I come to seek the counsels of Lord Elrond in hopes to answer a riddle that has been plaguing the dreams of my brother and myself."

For a moment, Boromir paused and inspected the Elf with the slightest bit of scrutiny. He doubted the creature's forests were in greater danger than the White City he had left behind. Legolas matched, if not challenged his gaze, but spoke with an even tone in the song-like voice of all Elves.

" Months ago I heard of the attack on the Citadel of the Stars. Around the same time my Kingdom was assailed by orcs. I lost my best friend in that foul hour."

Boromir's expression fell yet the sharpness was still in his tongue.

"And I lost many."

With a sour gaze he turned and headed off towards Elrond's house, leaving a page to tend to his horse. Legolas watched the tall man walk away with slumped shoulders his head hung low. He was burdened by thoughts unknown to Legolas, and his presence presented was a deep sadness and a hint of fear. With a frown upon his white face Legolas wondered just how bad the situation had become in Gondor, and all of Middle-Earth for that matter. At least now he knew something would be accomplished.

§…ˆ¤ˆ…§

That same evening a feast was held, and Legolas was overjoyed to see Aragorn again as the Ranger mingled with the Rivendell Elves, exchanging kind and noble words in their own tongue. Legolas had not seen the Captain of Gondor since they first met at the gates. Now Legolas stood in a tunic and britches in all shades of gray, leaning against a wall and watching the other Elves clad in rich colors roam about the Last Homely House. Sooner or later he knew Aragorn would see him and come over, and he did not want to interrupt any of his friend's conversations.

At last Aragorn saw Legolas and smiled brightly, a youthful cheer crossing his features. Legolas could now see he was wearing Elven garb, and that clothing gave him a very kingly appearance.

"Mae govannen, Legolas!"

"Aragorn we meet again."

"Brought together by a feast no doubt."

The friends shared a laugh and raised their cups in a toast.

"I know you would ask of my journey, but I'd rather you wouldn't, Aragorn. It was very dark and very trying, and the memory of it dims the joy that has come to me in this warm place."

"I will do nothing of the sort, friend."

Aragorn was first to notice a tall man seated alone in a corner, lost in thought over a cup of wine. Legolas followed the Ranger's eyes and gave what Aragorn read as a sarcastic smile.

"There is Boromir, Man of Gondor. I've seen statues less cold."

"Denethor's son…"

Legolas noted the soft tone to his voice. Once he had made the connection that the lonely man was the Steward's son, Aragorn's memoirs of serving the Steward's grandfather under the name Thorongil flooded his old mind. And indeed Aragorn felt very old having witnessed three generations of Gondorian leaders flourish before his grey eyes. The Elf Prince dragged Aragorn back to reality.

"There is great fear in his eyes, Aragorn; distrust and arrogance. Yet pain there is also, a pain deeper than those without Sight could not understand. Do you see it?"

"The Captain of Gondor bears a great weight on his shoulders, Legolas. Boromir's name means "Jewel of War" and no doubt that is what he has become… that is what is expected of him and what he is known for. Denethor expects nothing but perfection from his sons. But despite his iron fist, he loves them both dearly."

"Strange then, that he came in Faramir's stead."

"Faramir's heart is pure and he too is a great warrior, but he has always lived under Boromir's shadow. Boromir knows this, and part of the pain you see in him comes from leaving Faramir and his father alone in the White City, for it has come to very dark days. Boromir would not let his brother take so dangerous a road."

" Then what could have torn so loyal a Man and loving brother away from his City?"

This Aragorn could not, or would not answer. He remained silent alongside his Elven friend, each pondering the possibilities. The two noticed the Man of Gondor had caught their gazes. Boromir rose from his seat and nodded to them before taking his cup and slipping off into the shadows. Shortly after, Aragorn excused himself from Legolas disappearing into the crowd of Rivendell Elves.

Legolas took leave of the feast and wandered out onto the terraces of the Last Homely House. The moon shone down on his golden hair and brought a glow to his pale skin and eyes. For a moment he stood tall and still, not a breath to be heard or movement seen. He seemed a statue, a glorious warrior relic of the old days of Greenwood before the shadow fell and Men began to call it Mirkwood. His fair features bore no emotion, a useful skill of the Elves, yet his insides were riddled with many. With a sigh of exhaustion, sorrow and fear, he rested his hands on the terrace's railing. No song came to his heart as he stared at the gardens and cataracts of Rivendell down below