@Kayo : Yep. You sounded just like Jack Sparrow to me! He! He!
@Lexani : I'll never get sick of you. Never! More, mellon! MORE!
@Sailor Elf : Err…What exactly did you smell?
@Aranel of Mirkwood : All I want for Christmas are Orli and Kimi! And I got them already! Yay! Try again next year, mellon!
@namarie2legolas : I hope your wishes will come true!
@Young Storyteller : FFnet is always acting up, isn't it?
@Lady Lenna : So, you sympathized Aragorn's plight. Don't worry. He'll get help. (hint)
@Terrenis sama : I believe I can grant your wish!
@Karina : Yes. Arwen showing up in ROTK at the last part was sweet (even though she booted Glorfindel out of the picture). And you should see my sister. She had planned for her wedding five years beforehand! Crazy, I know. But it was a very happy and grand wedding, believe me!
@AbbiCat! : All right! I'm up! The angst queen is awake now! Is Leggy still a virgin? Err… I believe, in a certain kind of way, he still is. I mean, he never get laid with a female before.
Okay. I'm back. Have fun waiting? He! He!
***************************
"Lord Faramir, my lord."
At his servant's announcement, Lord Asfahn looked up from the parchment he was reading and broke into a smile as the tall sandy-haired man walked into the study. "Faramir! How nice to see you!"
"Nice to see you too, Asfahn," said Faramir, also smiling, as both men shook hands.
"How are your newborn baby and your wife, by the way?"
"They are doing great." Faramir took a seat opposite Asfahn's across the table. "I've never been happier. I named my son Boromir."
"Good, good." Asfahn nodded, reclaiming his seat. "Your brother would be honored to know that."
Faramir's smile was a little sad as he thought of the dead brother that he'd loved so much. Shrugging off the melancholy, he then said, "I just returned three days ago. The king has informed me of the Haradrim's latest endeavor and I can't help but feel responsible for all the things that have happened."
"Come now, Faramir. We all know that it wasn't your fault. Your wife was having a baby. No one can stop that from happening!" Asfahn replied, chuckling.
Faramir still smiled, but it faltered a bit. He still felt as if he had let down Legolas and the king somehow. From the moment he had known of what had been done to the elven prince, Faramir had vowed that he would do anything possible to stop the Haradim from creating any more devastation, once and for all.
"Actually, I come here to gather extra information about the attack on Colomar. The king wants me to go through every detail of the attack so we can figure out their next move. I understand that your men were the first to stumble upon the tracks of the Haradrim?"
Asfahn nodded. "Yes, my men did. Like I had informed in the king's council, our regiment is small so we had to seek help from Ithilien. Alas, the elves there didn't seem eager to lend us aid. Colomar was already beyond help when we got back to the village."
Asfahn then told Faramir the rest of the story before he loudly harrumphed, "Elves! They are not to be fully trusted, the lot of them! They abandoned us when we needed them the most! Why the king give a parcel of land to them when they know nothing of how to use it except to turn it into a useless garden, I have no idea!"
Faramir stared thoughtfully at Asfahn's face, seeing a glimmer of prejudice there. It came as no surprise to him of the other man's loud complaint because the Ithilien prince had once heard that Asfahn's brother had died under the hands of the elves. Faramir didn't know the story in complete detail, but he knew enough to understand Asfahn's distrust towards the other race. Still, after talking to Béregund, Legolas' right-hand man, Faramir knew that there was a lot more to the whole picture.
Béregund had told him that Asfahn and his men never came asking for aid.
After knowing Legolas for a year, Faramir found out that the elves looked highly upon honesty. They never lied. They had no reason to. And that left Asfahn as the one who was not speaking the truth. But why, and for what purpose? That was the actual reason why Faramir came here to Asfahn's keep; to find some answers.
The previous servant suddenly returned. "My lord, your supper is ready. Would you like to have it here?"
"Ah. Good! Bring it in so Lord Faramir can join me," Asfahn ordered before Faramir could object.
"Oh, but I have to decline. I don't want to impose on you, Asfahn," Faramir said, already getting to his feet.
"Nonsense," Asfahn replied, waving Faramir to sit back down on his chair. "It's just a simple meal, anyway. No trouble at all."
Faramir reluctantly complied, watching as the servant brought in trays of roasted beef and fresh fruits, placing them all on the table in front of him. A jug of wine and two chalices were also set down along with the food.
"Help yourself, Faramir," Asfahn invited, already cutting through his beef. "My cook is one of the best! You'll never regret sampling it."
Faramir was not really hungry. But to not offend his host, he picked up his fork and knife and began to eat. The two men spent the rest of the supper in companionable silence. Asfahn was indeed right. His cook was good. The meal was delicious.
"Now, how about some fruits?" Asfahn pushed away his empty plate a moment later before dragging the bowl of apples closer to him.
"No, thank you. I'm already full," Faramir declined, smiling apologetically. "Beware, though. I might steal your cook from you, Asfahn!"
"You can try it!" The other man laughed, reaching inside a drawer to take out a knife.
Faramir's smile froze when Asfahn used the blade to cut the skin off an apple. His fists clenched involuntarily as his fury quickly boiled over. Using all the willpower he possessed, Faramir put a lid on his anger before he said something that would only jeopardize the situation.
"I have to go now, Asfahn," Faramir said evenly, getting to his feet. "The night is late and I have to get back to Minas Tirith before dawn."
"Oh. Sorry to hear that," said Asfahn, also stood. He put down the blade to shake Faramir's hand. "I hope you'll find a way to defeat the Haradrim."
Faramir fought the wild urge to strangle the other man's neck. He said instead, "I hope so too. Thank you for the meal. Enjoy the apple." Without glancing at the familiar looking blade that lay on the table, Faramir whirled around and rushed for the door.
He didn't have to look twice at the beautifully crafted ivory-handled blade to know whom it belonged to.
It was one of Legolas' beloved twin daggers.
**********************************
It was dark. Someone or something was repeatedly calling his name. No, it was not the sea. This call was entirely different, coming from the deepest core of his being, of his heart. And it was very familiar.
There it was again, that voice. Aragorn's voice. His friend was telling him something, yet he could not fully understand.
A flicker of light suddenly caught his attention, beckoning him. His feet moved on their own accord towards the light. He soon found out that it emanated from a small round stone, glowing bright green like a beacon in the dark.
It was the Elessar, Aragorn's stone of birth.
And as he was staring, a big hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed the stone. It instantly broke into million of pieces under the clenching fist, quenching the light…leaving him in darkness once more…
Legolas jerked upright in his bed and barely managed to swallow a cry of dismay. He was drenched in sweat and his heart was beating rapidly. Glancing at the window, he saw that it was still dark outside. Dawn was still long to come.
"Valar…" he sighed, running both hands down his face. The dream was strange and very disturbing. He knew it meant something but had not the nerve to dwell on it for fear of losing his wits. So he lay back down and closed his eyes, willing the recollections of the dream to fade away until nothing remained but emptiness as he drifted back to sleep.
Still, the foreboding feeling never left him even when he woke up in the morning. It lingered at the back of his mind like a dark appalling cloud. It was trying for him to disregard the feeling. To distract himself, the prince grabbed a book and headed for the gazebo in the royal garden.
Alas, he seemed not to know what he was reading. The dream kept repeating itself in front of his eyes, mingling with the wordings in the book. With a frustrated cry, Legolas tossed the book onto the bench and stepped off the gazebo. He headed for the pond several yards away and stared at the three white swans that were feeding and swimming in the clear green water.
"Legolas?"
The prince turned at his father's voice. Thranduil was approaching from the direction of the palace. "Oh. Good morning, father."
"Good morning, son." The king frowned at Legolas' troubled expression. "I didn't see you at breakfast. Is everything well?"
Since Legolas' homecoming a week ago, the prince had caught the sea longing affliction only once. But the attack was mild and Narasene had been there to help him pull through it. Now Thranduil began to worry that it was about to greatly bother his son again.
"Actually, I'm fine, father," Legolas answered, turning his gaze back at the swans. "It's just my mind that is dark of late."
"Is it the sea longing?" Thranduil guessed.
"No. It's something else." Legolas sighed. "It is something that I do not understand, or rather, do not want to understand. I fear that it will come true."
Thranduil stared at the way his son fidgeted with the high collar of his tunic. It was a sure sign that Legolas was indeed very worried and distraught. "What is it that you fear will come true?" the king finally asked after a long moment of silence.
Legolas turned to his father, his eyes a little wild with panic. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the prince suddenly cried out and collapsed to his knees, clutching his right chest.
"Legolas!" Thranduil was instantly alarmed. He quickly knelt down beside his son, putting a supporting arm around the prince's trembling shoulders. "Legolas! Tell me, what's wrong?"
But Legolas could not reply. With his eyes tightly shut, he gritted his teeth as he bore down the acute pain that was raging mad inside him, originating somewhere below his right shoulder. This is certainly not sea longing! But what in Arda is this then?!
Yet another pain hit him in the small of his back with such a powerful force that he jerked from it. He could barely feel the pair of strong arms that held him, so mind numbing the agony was. Someone was also frantically crying out his name, but he still could not reply. No, not just yet.
It seemed a while later when he finally opened his eyes, only to find himself already stretched out on the bench under the gazebo. His father's face was looming above him, worried and overwrought.
"Legolas?" Thranduil asked tentatively, gripping hard at his son's hand until the prince winced from it.
"I'm fine, father," Legolas replied as he slowly raised himself to a sitting position.
"Fine? Then what the blazes was that just now? You looked like you were badly hurt or something!"
"No. That wasn't me." Legolas shook his head. "It was Aragorn."
Thranduil's mouth dropped open. "Aragorn? But how…"
"I…I can't explain it. It was just there, like a strange dream I had last night. I believe he is in grave danger." Legolas stared deeply into his father's eyes. "Father, I…"
Thranduil felt a shiver of dread ran down his spine as he waited for his son to continue.
"Father, I have to go back." Legolas clasped his hand over his father's and sighed. "I have to go back to Minas Tirith to help my human brother."
TBC…