Dawn broke cool and bright.  Thin wisps of clouds floated slowly in the sky and a brisk wind blew in the west.  But Aragorn and his group did not stop to admire the beautiful weather.  As soon as they had rested enough, the saddle bags had been repacked and the riders had set out on the trail once more.

Gimli, once again riding with Aragorn, pointed to a large gnarled looking tree off to the right.  "See that tree?  We're almost there Aragorn.  More than halfway by my reckoning."

Aragorn nodded, but said nothing.  He just spurred the horse on, hoping to collect what clues he could that could tell him anything of the elf's capture.

Onward they rode, heading almost due north to the sparsely wooded area where their friend had disappeared.  Hours passed.  No one spoke, not even in soft whispers.  Suddenly, Gimli cried out. 

"There!  There is where we were.  I saw his blood by that tall tree over there."  He pointed to the tallest of the handful of trees that grew together.

Aragorn slowed the horse once again, and led him carefully to the edge of the strand of trees.  There the king dismounted Arod, and left him to graze on the last green grasses of the fading fall.  With the dwarf by his side, Aragorn walked to the spot that had been pointed out to him.  There he found a few blades of grass and some fallen leaves that had been stained red with Legolas' blood.

He looked around for signs of a struggle.  A few heavy imprints in the grass told him that there had been one, but it had not lasted long.  Six pairs of prints he could make out clearly.  They were not those of men, but what they were of, he could not tell – only that whatever had made them had worn heavy boots and moved with short strides.  He peered closer to the ground.  Faintly, almost imperceptible even to the trained eyes of the former ranger, he saw another pair of prints.  And then he saw another.  One was certainly Legolas' and from the position, Aragorn knew that the elf had been surrounded.  The other pair stood amidst the others, but had not been part of Legolas being surrounded. 

As he moved along the ground, he came across another clue.  A single strand of rope lay crushed in one of the heavily made footprints.  Standing once more and holding the rope between his fingers, Aragorn looked over to Gimli.

"He was here all right.  He was dragged this way," he pointed as he spoke, "then surrounded and bound.  Then they took off this way."  He looked up, squinting at the sun.  It was just passing the noon mark.  "We'll follow the trail as far as we can before we rest again.  The men have had some time already, as have the horses."

He gave a call, and soon the riders came up to him, Arod with them.  Aragron and Gimli once again climbed onto the back of the beautiful white horse, and took off at as fast a pace as the old ranger dared to risk.  As for himself, Aragorn spent most of the time bent over, his eyes constantly searching the ground. 

This proved well for the group, as the trail twisted and turned, sometimes double backing upon itself, and even Aragorn sometimes had to stop and sit for a while before he could discern which way to head next.