Thanks for the review. I hope you people are enjoying this. No, I'm not trying to make you review. If you don't want to, ya don't have to. I'm not one of those people who say review, or else they'll stop writing. I'm not saying that's bad, if that's what floats your boat. I'm writing this more for my enjoyment than for yours. I only hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Still not mine. I'm afraid I don't have enough money to buy them from Christopher Tolkien, as much as I would like to call Legolas my own. I'm just trying to pay for a car and college books.

The Silent Prince

Chapter 9: Preparations

Cursing in both Elvish and Westernesse, Ylana quickly leapt to the ground, barely leaving an imprint on the grass. Once her feet touched solid earth, she was running towards the camp at top speed. ~I have to warn everyone. Fortunately, they are still a good many leagues off. We may have time to come up with a plan. Or to run, though where would we go? No, we will fight. But, if we can last until dawn, then mayhap we can take a chance in the Dark Spot. They won't have Legolas. Even if I die, they will not take him!~

She broke through the brush and into the camp, pausing only long enough to find where Aragorn lay. Without a second's thought, she dropped to his side and began to vigorously shake him. "Estel. Estel, eria!"(1)

The Man's eyes immediately opened. "Ylana?" he said, softly, a concerned look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Yrchs," she said grimly, falling into her own tongue. (2) "From Isengard."

Aragorn sprang to his feet, his hand going to his sword. "From Isengard," he hissed. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," she said, rising to her feet. "They bear the white hand of the wizard."

The Ranger swore a curse that could blister paint. "Quick. We must alert the others."

Ylana nodded and hurried off to rouse Boromir while Aragorn strode to Legolas's side. He was loathe to wake the Elf from one of the few peaceful rests he'd had since beginning the Quest, but he had no other choice.

His friend blinked as soon as the Man touched his shoulder. "Aragorn?" he whispered. "Is it Orcs?"

Aragorn nodded. "I'm afraid so." He paused, concern making his gray eyes glint. "How's your leg? Can you stand?"

The Elven prince quickly climbed to his feet, managing to look graceful even in his haste. With the Ranger looking on, he gingerly put all his weight on his injured leg, testing its strength. When it did nothing more than slightly ache, he nodded to Aragorn in satisfaction. "I shall be fine. Do not worry."

"Good. But you are to stay at someone's side at all times." Aragorn looked at his friend sternly, trying hard not to notice how much his eyes sparkled in the dying moonlight. He knew how much the Elf hated pity, and how stubborn he could be. But this time was different. The Orcs out there were after him, and him alone. "Do not go off alone, for the will get you surely. Understand?"

Much to his surprise, Legolas didn't argue. Nor did he get angry and accuse Aragorn of treating him as a child. He simply nodded as he reached for his bow and quiver.

It did not take long for the members of the Fellowship to be awake and ready. They had shaken off all signs of weariness at the news of the impending attack. They all held their weapons at the ready, glancing at the forest then back to Ylana, who stood at Aragorn's side, tense.

"How far away are they?" the Man murmured, eyes and ears strained.

"A good ways," she answered, absently twirling her bow. "But they are approaching fast. From the south. I would say we have half an hour at the most. Dawn is perhaps an hour and a half away. If we could hold them off until then..."

Boromir turned to Gandalf. "Why do we not flee?" he asked. "I know you said you did not wish to enter the dark area until sunlight, but it no longer matters. The Orcs will drive us in there for sure!"

The wizard looked troubled, but it was Ylana, not he, who answered. "Nay, Boromir," she said softly, turning to fix the Man with her silver stare. "Gandalf was right to keep us away in darkness. If we go in there now, the Orcs will be the least of our worries."

Frodo swallowed, staring at her with wide eyes. ~What can be worse than Orcs?~

"We can go north----which will cause us to run into the mountains----flee back the way we came, or stay and fight."

"I will stay and fight."

That was Legolas, and Frodo was surprised at the amount of feeling behind it. It was the first time he'd heard the Elf speak so strongly since the Council a week before.

A week? It seemed like a lifetime.

"Saruman apparently wants me badly. It does not matter where we go. He will still send his minions after me. If we are going to fight, then I would rather it be here, while we are still on course." Though the Elf's face remained impassive, Frodo could see determination burning in Legolas's azure eyes.

Ylana turned to him and bowed, the hand that covered her heart extending outwards to him. "I will fight by your side," she said in a soft, yet firm, voice. "Even if it means my death."

Legolas turned to face the other Elf. He looked as if her were about to say something, but Aragorn beat him to it.

"I too will fight," the Man said, moving to stand by Legolas's side. "You are my dearest and closest friend." He put his hand on the blond Elf's shoulder. "I will not abandon you in your time of need."

"And I will stay to fight," Frodo said determinedly, glaring at the others as if daring them to challenge him as he stepped up to the Elf's side. "You could have run away when Lord Elrond asked you to accompany me on this Quest. You could have chosen to appoint another to come in your stead. Yet you came, and now your life is in danger because of it. I may be small, but I will do whatever I can for a true friend."

A change came over Legolas's face then, but only Ylana and Aragorn noticed. Something inside him was breaking as, one by one, his friends promised to fight by his side.

The child in him wanted to weep.

The prince in him refused to.

The rest of the hobbits quickly joined in, followed by Boromir and Gandalf. Soon, only the Dwarf remained, leaning against his ax.

Ylana lifted an eyebrow at him. 'Well, Master Gimli?" she said, the tiniest sliver of amusement coloring her voice. "Will you be aiding us in this battle? Or is this where you begin your trek back to your home?"

He grunted at this. "Of course I'm staying," he growled. "You did not hear what I told Lord Elrond when we left. 'Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.' I will not leave. Besides, someone has to keep an eye on your hides."

Legolas blinked at these words. He had expected the Dwarf to take this chance and leave. Gimli had been none too pleased when Elrond had chosen him to go on the Quest with the Elf he had argued with at the Council. He felt a wave of respect for his companion. Though he said not a word, the bow that he gave the Dwarf spoke volumes.

Aragorn smiled at this and winked at Gandalf. ~Perhaps there is hope for those two yet.~ "We thank you, Master Gimli. No doubt your ax will be invaluable in this battle."

There was another grunt form the Dwarf, this one of satisfaction.

"No one lets Legolas out of sight," Aragorn said, turning serious. "These Orcs have been sent for him, and we are not going to let them have him without a fight."

Frodo nodded, understanding. "So what do we do now?"

With a grim smile, Aragorn raised Anduril and stared into the forest. "We wait."

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Grnatak growled as he plunged deeper into the forest. He had a headache. Behind him, the troops of Uruk-Hai he's been ordered to command cursed and shouted in their own language. If the Elf and his friends didn't know they were coming by now, they would know soon.

And the *trees,* damn them! He hated trees almost as much as he hated the tree-hugging Elves. And these trees... There was something odd about them. It was almost as if they were whispering to each other. It made Grnatak feel uneasy. The sooner they got this stupid Elf and go out of the forest, the better.

He wished he knew why Saruman wanted this tree-hugger so badly. Better yet, why did he send a group of Uruk-Hai to retrieve him? All Orcs harbored a deep hatred for Elves. Orcs themselves had once been Elves, twisted by Melkor's dark powers. Though these Uruk-hai had been created in the caverns of Isengard, Saruman had drilled into them the history of the Orcs. Just thinking about the Elves in all their beauty and wisdom was enough to drive any Orc into a frenzy.

Srauman had told them strictly that this Elf, this Legolas Greenleaf, was to be brought back alive. He never said anything about unharmed, and Grnatak planned to make good use of that fact.

The Orc captain suddenly came to a halt as a certain aroma tickled his nostrils. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He knew that smell. He relished that smell.

One of the other Orcs came up to him. The others sat down or leaned over to put hands on knees, glad for a break, no matter how short it was. "What is it?" he growled. "What do you smell?"

Grnatak turned and gave him the closest thing to an Orcish smile. "Man- flesh," he said gleefully, yellow eyes dancing. "They must be close. On your feet!" he roared, causing close to a hundred Uruk-hai to groan as they climbed back to their feet.

They began to run again. The smell grew stronger and stronger, and even the Uruk-hai in the back of the group began to howl in anticipation of the impending battle.

The smell was still growing when the first arrow came singing out of the trees and struck the Uruk-hai to the left of Grnatak. He fell with a wet gurgle.

Grnatak paused only long enough to let out a roar as he plunged headlong into the trees, scimitar at the ready.

The battle had begun.

1) eria! Rise!

(2)yrchs Orcs