of gilded blood
chapter II || silent siege

"Horses prance through a silver storm
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory
Far away
Long ago
Glowing dim as an ember
Things my heart used to know
Once upon a December…"
*Anastasia, "Once Upon a December"

"Legolas is in a rather dangerous situation," Celeborn stated, stepping down so that he was level with the still, motley collection standing before him. He paused, then gestured towards the innards of the talan. "Please, be seated. I am afraid this shall take a bit of time to explain."

Lethargically, the Fellowship followed the elves further into the dais, finding themselves in a warm room that exuded all the tranquility they couldn't feel. They found themselves relaxing against their will, and sank into soft cushions and seats, reveling in their return to civilization without thinking on it. Little had been their comforts during their travels, and the warmth and comfort that Lothlorien provided them was such a change from the scalding winds of Caradhras and the lethal stillness of the depths of Moria. Despite this, their thoughts quickly fled back to their fallen friend.

"If Legolas is alive," Frodo said, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. "Then…does that mean he remains yet in Moria?"

Celeborn shook his head. "Nay, Master Hobbit." The elven lord raised his hands and interlaced his fingers under his chin as he leaned back in his seat. "To our understanding, Gandalf has transported Legolas to a different location altogether."

There was another long stretch of quiet, before Gimli said in frustration, "Then he could be anywhere! Rivendell, Gondor – even Mordor! We could not possibly find him…."

Lady Galadriel shook her head slightly. "Nay, Master Dwarf. You misunderstand, for I am afraid we have not made ourselves clear. Legolas not only in a different place…."

"…He is in a different world," Lord Celeborn completed. His gray eyes met that of each and every one of the Company, making sure each understood the gravity and proportion of what he was saying. "Legolas is no longer within Middle-Earth."

"I saw it in my mirror as soon as it happened," Lady Galadriel smoothly continued, her soft voice shredding the silence that had fallen upon the stricken Fellowship. "He is safe – for now, and soon, we shall all gaze upon him and see how he fares. We know not the pull of the Ring – "

"It is powerful," Frodo said, lifting his head up – and all could see the new tears forming in his eyes, grazing along the tracks the old ones had left. He looked away from the elves, unable to hold his gaze.

Lord Celeborn nodded. "Yes, as you say, it is. But the Ring is no longer within the bounds of Middle-Earth – so far, far away from its master and home. It may do one of three things that we have foreseen." In his ancient eyes, they saw an emotion – worry? – flicker as he turned to his lady.

"First," Galadriel started, her voice hardening and strengthening in force, just as quickly as her eyes could. "The Ring may set to have Legolas killed, and thus pass itself from master to master until it finds the one it searches for – the Dark Lord himself."

"Second," Celeborn picked up, "it may decide to stay with Legolas – controlling him – until it finds a way back to Middle-Earth. Thus, we may assume it is weakened, due to its distance from the land of shadow."

"And lastly," Galadriel said, looking upon the Company with a gleam in her eyes. "Thirdly, it may lose whatever power it had in the first place. It being so far from its master may have annulled whatever power it held."

"And what if it hasn't? What if it has lost none of its ardor and still searches to find a way back?" Boromir asked despairingly, voice low and strong arms tense at his sides.

"Then it will," the elven lord replied simply. "It will return – and for the better, if it has not lost its potency. We must rid the Ring from this world, for unless we do, the power of Mordor and its Lord will never wane."

"If it doesn't return, then?" Pippin Took spoke up, voice ever so slightly confused. "If – if its power is truly dead?"

"Then we must leave Legolas Thranduilion where he is as an eternal guardian of it, to ensure it will never come to Middle-Earth again," Galadriel said at length. Her voice softened and lowered in tone. "He will not be granted the Halls of Mandos or the haven of Valinor as others – and with such a task in his hands, his determination to see it through will not allow him the peace of death."

"Peace of death?" Samwise Gamgee echoed faintly, his face twisting in a mixture of horror and disbelief.

Lord Celeborn nodded at the hobbit, face and features still. "There are some things, Master Hobbit," he said softly, "that are worse than death. In some ways, bearing a ring of power can be one of them."

"Yes, we call it Earth," Will repeated, looking more than just a bit worried for Legolas' sanity.

Legolas stared at the boy before slumping further into his seat. "You mean to tell me that this is not Middle-Earth, that there are no elves – or dwarves, hobbits, wizards, orcs – and that man is the predominant race?"

Will watched him slightly apologetically before shrugging a shoulder and saying bluntly, "Well, yes. Sorry to burst your bubble. How could you have lived for a thousand years not knowing that?"

"I wasn't here until a few hours ago," Legolas reminded him, not deeming him worthy enough of an angry retort. He continued gazing out of the window, watching the sun as it slowly continued its descent.

Will rolled his eyes as he folded the map and put it back in its place. "You mean you just realized that you were here a few hours ago. There's no excuse for not knowing what planet you're on," he scolded. "Or what species you are."

"Yes," Legolas readily agreed, his patience fraying and tongue becoming eager to lash. "That's why you should do yourself a favor and admit to being the baboon that you are. Maybe mankind will be able to make up for the mar your existence has placed upon it."

Will turned and faced Legolas, blinking at the insult, feeling a consistently welling tightness of his throat. He was speechless for a moment – the "elf" could be so kind one moment and so wrathful the next! – before he gave the man – elf – thing – an expression that hid no little anger. "If you're so sure of everything, then you might as well just leave and find your own way. I do nothing to keep you here, you mad fool!"

"You must believe me," Legolas said, standing up and leaning forward, ignoring the fact that no one had ever spoken to him like that – except for Aragorn – due to his status as prince. It was a slightly refreshing surprise to find someone who was honest and simple with their words to him. "You must understand that what I say is the truth!"

Will stared Legolas down, rather well for a human. Muscles in his gritting jaw twitched, before he said in turn, "I mustn't do anything."

Legolas raised an eyebrow at the young human before getting up and leaving through what he correctly assumed was the front door. Fine, then. If all this human could do – even after learning of his predicament – was to treat him as if he were mad, then of what help could he be? He still had his honor and pride and would not stand to be treated as one of addled mind! Maybe he'll understand later. He walked out into the town of Port Royal, head held high. He would have to find his own way back to Middle-Earth…somehow.

He walked out onto the cobblestone paths and watched humans bustle about their business – some selling on the streets, others pushing vendors, others lazily trotting by on their steeds, and some merely walking in the fresh spring air. Soon it would be dusk, but it seemed as though there was some sort of celebration going on at what appeared to be a fort – Legolas' keen eyes saw the hundred or so red-coated soldiers lined for the procession. This was the perfect time for him to do some quick exploring.

He absently reached up a hand to brush away strands of hair that flew into his face in the casual breeze. His braids had come undone at some point and it would take too much of the little time he had to braid them back into place. Besides, if what Will Turner said was true – that he was somehow in a world of men in which no elves ever existed – the warrior braids not only meant nothing but would seem like a petty adornment – too feminine for the race of men. His hand, in his haste to push his hair aside, brushed against the tip of his ear.

Oh, for the sake of… he frowned. He would have to hide his ears; for though the ears of elves were delicately shaped and not much different from those of men, the points were still obvious and would make him stand out. Well, they would make him stand out even more, added with the natural glow that all elves had, and the piercing gaze…. Ah. Yes. Blending in among the humans would be a more difficult task than he would have wagered. He let his silvery locks drift and curtain around his face, effectively ridding the possibility of the humans seeing their petal-like form.

Wishing he had brought some sort of cloak with him on the quest, he continued his way down the street, ignoring the looks of curiosity and awe that followed him. Yes, the quest. What of it? If he was here with the One Ring, then how was the Fellowship planning to return it to the fires of Mount Doom? They would have to wait for him to return…then meet with him in a way such that the forces of Mordor would not find him first…. He fervently hoped that they had made it out of Moria and to Lothlorien alive.

He looked about and found himself near a dock – was there a river running through the town? Port, something in his mind told him fiercely, trying to remind him of something. It is a port – Port Royal! The word port and his surroundings didn't quite seem to reach him and as if in a daydream, he walked along the dock and closer to the source of the salty scent in the air, the swirls of warm winds…. There were birds flying above, perched on the branches of the trees, and he looked at them…watching in a daze…. They're pretty…. The sand was white, he noted idly, along the shoreline…. The waves were mesmerizing, with golden tints of the setting sun reflecting within them…. He began to walk closer to the water, reaching out, deciding that maybe he would like to swim, see what was on the other side….

So into the water he went; carefully at first, getting used to the feel of the cool water against his skin, and slowly paddled outwards further into the dock. Something deep, deep within himself was afraid for the first time in a very long time, trembling in panic and sorrow and despair. But something in him pushed that aside and let himself happily glide through the water, even when it started getting deep, fixated on getting to what was on the other side of what he cheerfully assumed was a large body of water.

Used to the stillness and calm of the sea, Legolas wavered for a moment when he heard a large splash somewhere near him. The scared, more aware emotion welled up within him again, and he slowly came to realization… Someone jumped into the water behind me.

His first reaction was to think that it would be nice to have some company during the long swim across the ocean; until said person caught up with him, threw an arm around his neck, and started dragging him back towards shore.

Legolas struggled fiercely at first, catching the person in the stomach, and began to haughtily paddle away again, not quite out of his stupor yet. The further he swam though, the more he seemed to hear. No longer was the sound of the rolling waves all-encompassing: he heard the voices of men and the bustle of the town as well. He slowed to a stop, then turned around. Young William Turner was swimming after him, a raging look on his face, as he yelled for the other to stop. "Leggy – Leg – Legolas!"

"What?" Legolas called back, staying where he was. He suddenly felt confused and tired; nothing made sense. What…what was he doing here in the water?

"What are you doing?" Will yelled at him in a bedraggled voice. "Come – come back here!"

Docile and baffled as to what was going on in the first place, Legolas obeyed quietly and started swimming back towards shore. "What's wrong?" he asked Will ten minutes later, as they both grabbed hold of the wooden panels of the dock and tread water.

"Wha – " Will stared at him furiously, breathing loudly and deeply, trying to catch his breath. "Just because I think you're insane doesn't mean that you have to – to go drown yourself!"

Legolas blinked. Drown myself…? His words sounded childish and vulnerable even to his ears as he said them, and he knew something was wrong. "I wanted to see what was on the other side…."

"You were out by the cliffs – that's very dangerous!" Will exclaimed, trying to make Legolas see reason. He pointed towards where he had seen the elf when he had first come to the shore. Legolas looked outwards, following Will's gesture, and found himself staring at an ocean.

And then he heard the cry of the gulls.

That simple sound – it broke him free of his spell and in the realization of exactly where he was made Legolas felt as though his soul had been jarred from his body for long moments, and it finally fell back into place along with something painfully new and familiar all at once. In his shock he lost his grip on the dock and pitched forward…hitting himself square in the face on a wooden pole holding the dock up.

"Aaggh," he spat water out, bringing one hand back up to the dock and the other to rub his forehead. He had a bad enough headache as it was – he did not need the added bruise to show it! He heard a snort from beside him, and he glanced over to find Will reluctantly laughing.

As Will's adrenaline rush passed, so did his laughter, and he pulled himself up over the water and onto the sturdy dock, reaching down to offer a hand to Legolas. The wet elf took the hand gratefully and soon was sitting beside the slouching human, drying off in the cool air. Night had fallen – how had he not noticed this? Without thinking of it, his nervous hands went to his neck, and grasped the Ring hanging from the silver chain. Yes, it is still there. And then another thought came to him. It is still there only because it wants to be.

Before he could think more on it, Will stood and tugged at his arm. "Come on, let's get ourselves warm again." He stopped and watched Legolas wearily stand. "I'm sorry for calling you mad…and I will do my best to help you back to, ah, this Middle-Earth." He paused, then went on. "But you should most certainly get some rest…wherever you came from, the trip has undeniably rendered you strange."

Legolas smiled genuinely, despite that he knew that he didn't have the human's full confidence, causing his fair features to light up and his eyes to clear of their sorrow. Will stared for a moment, caught by how unreal the elf seemed, before smiling back. "Then I must return the favor to you someday," Legolas said softly, as they set back towards the blacksmith's shop. "And I will have to tell you everything about my circumstances of being here. Only then will I hold you to your word."

Will frowned at him, catching the serious expression on the elf's face. He turned back to watch the streets as they kept walking. "Well, whatever," he replied. "Just…don't go drowning yourself again." A stern look from the elf stopped any further comments Will might have made, and they spent the rest of the distance back to the forge in silence.

Once there, they quietly got the fire going and Will kindly poured them each a cup of tea to soothe their nerves and warm their cold bodies. And Legolas told him everything.

Letting himself rest – for he had been speaking for hours now – Legolas gripped the mug lightly with one hand, letting the tips of his finger gently trace the rim. "They must know where I am…as Gandalf was the one who sent me here." In the warmth of the fire, he felt better, and Will's silent support – whether or not it was given out of faith in his tale – meant more to him than he would have known.

"And this Ring of yours," Will said after a long silence, "it has a mind of its own?"

"Nearly," Legolas replied, shrugging despondently, as they both continued to stare into the fire without quite seeing it. "Its mind is that of its master, the dark lord Sauron."

Will's eyes dropped down sideward and he caught a glimpse of the chain around Legolas' neck, and the golden trinket that hung from it. In the firelight, it glinted, and though it was beautiful, Will could see nothing special of it, and that observation only supported his ever-strengthening theory that Legolas was indeed crazy. Catching the young man's gaze and seemingly reading his thoughts, Legolas nimbly unlatched the chain, slipped the Ring off of it, and recklessly tossed it into the fire.

Will blinked, before feeling even more confused than he had been for the past hour, and getting to his feet. "What are you doing?" he gasped, looking at the fire horrifically. "It'll melt in the fire, you idiot!" What a waste!

"No, it won't," Legolas said firmly. After another few minutes in which Legolas mischievously relished Will fretting on his behalf, he took hold of a fire poker and using it, pulled the Ring away from the flames. "It's quite cool to the touch," he said, taking it into his hand, mindful not to touch the end of the poker. They both stared at it, and watched, mesmerized, as inscriptions began to appear around the Ring. Will reached out his hand, and took the Ring from Legolas, holding it up to the light, running his fingers along the Tengwar script.

"What's it say?" he breathed, letting his eyes drink in the sight of the strange object, confusion fully transitioning into headache. "That…simply cannot be! There is no such metal that doesn't heat in flame or…or have hidden inscriptions such as these! I know this well!"

Legolas did not look up. "In the tongue of men it says, One Ring to rule them all. It is the most powerful of the Rings: three to elf-kind, seven to dwarf-kind, and nine to mankind. The three are safe. The seven are lost. And the nine are corrupted and in the service of the dark lord."

Will said nothing, still staring at the strange jewelry. He watched for another few moments, marveling at the craftsmanship, before the letters started to fade. "It is but a trick," he accused warily. He peered at it closely for another few moments, before handing it back to Legolas, more uncertain about the strange being than ever before.

Legolas took it, and in his fingers he twirled it, testing its weight and texture. "It does not seem to affect you," he said after a moment, and reached for the chain he had set aside. "It is my belief that it won't affect you – or others – of this world. It will choose to remain with me, because I am its way back to Middle-Earth, and to its master."

Will looked at Legolas intensely, leaning against the fireplace. What was this leading to? Assuming that what Legolas said was true – how silly! – then he should help, but…. "Does that mean it still has this power to…control?"

The elf nodded hesitantly.

"Then it will soon overwhelm you," Will pointed out. He looked rather calm, for the magnitude of such a situation, Legolas thought idly. Then again, he has not seen the destruction that the Ring has wreaked upon Middle-Earth. Nor does he quite believe me.

"It will not be as powerful," Legolas said, standing as well. He could feel a sick feeling in his stomach, as he began to pace – an action he had rarely indulged in. "The elves…there is something we call the sea-longing." He glanced up at Will, only to see the boy listening raptly, trying to seem disinterested but failing miserably. "Upon seeing the sea, an elf would have an urge to sail to Valinor, west of the lands of Middle-Earth," he explained as he paced. He had his arms crossed and pressed to his chest closely, feeling as if a draft had caught up to him, silly although the thought was. "It was just a few hours ago that I saw the sea…"

"And began to feel this urge," Will finished for him, catching on, eyebrows raised, face blank with a subtle skepticism. "That's still no excuse to drown yourself."

Legolas shook his head, becoming frustrated again, speaking as though he hadn't heard the boy's reply. "No, no, that can't be it. I didn't feel the urge until after, when I actually realized that I was next to sea, and heard the gulls. And even that feeling has significantly dulled, when it shouldn't have."

He brought his hands up to the chain, to the Ring, and held it out, trying to bring to himself clarity of mind. He worked his mind, trying to bring order to the confusion running rampant. Slowly, nailing them into words as soundly as he could, he said, "It wants to go back. It clouded my perception in order for me to do its bidding – and it wanted me to swim out to sea. It's already begun to take me, and I know not for how long I can withstand it."

There was another long silence. Legolas continued to pace, and Will watched in dismay. Left to their own thoughts, there was silence until Legolas stopped, suddenly, and lifted his head up, eyes closed in concentration.

"What is it?" asked Will, looking up. "What's – "

Legolas snapped his eyes open, wishing his hearing wasn't as good as it was and that just maybe he was wrong. "Fireworks," he said confusedly, eyes widening as he heard a quick succession of explosions. But – that couldn't be right – "No. Not fireworks." The objects were too heavy and directed at the town, not the sky – and in moments they would hit. "Port Royal is under attack."

Looking at the elf disbelievingly for a moment, before the sound of cannon fire was within his hearing range as well, Will immediately jumped towards the rack of blades assembled along the wall, and grabbed one for himself as he tossed another back to his new companion. "Pirates!"

And out into the melee they leapt.

Legolas followed Will's lead as they wove through the running and screaming villagers towards the dock. They were too late to keep the pirates from storming on to land, but nor would they allow for the fiends to get any closer. Curiosity piqued him like nothing else, when his keen eyes caught exactly what was causing those explosions. Hm. Some strange contraption catapulting metal spheres into buildings. Quite effective, he noticed, and remembered that Minas Tirith used the technique in battle as well. But somehow these were activated with fire – how strange! – but as a battle cry and the events going on around him penetrated his fog, he realized that now was not the time for this.

Turning his attention back to the battle and engaging one man – smelly and even filthier than the dwarf Gimli – Legolas locked blades and twirled, unbalancing the pirate and sending him tumbling over to the ground. Grasping the hilt of the equally dirty sword the man had dropped, Legolas turned only to find that another one had knocked Will backwards, holding the young man's neck in a firm strangle.

"Say goodbye," the hulking man sneered at the boy – but before Legolas could take another step, the metal sign above head was ripped of its restraints and fell into the pirate, throwing him through the glass window of the shop behind.

"Goodbye," Will muttered, throwing Legolas a cocky, though relieved, expression over his shoulder, before wrenching an ax from the ground and throwing it into the spine of a pirate passing by. Legolas' lips quirked upward at the show of skill from Will – he would have to learn that trick from the human – before his expression quickly changed into one of alarm, as he caught the look on the young man's face.

"Elizabeth," Will gasped, eyes focused on something past Legolas. The elf turned and his eyes landed upon the object of Will's gaze instantly: a beautiful young woman – hair elaborately pinned halfway up, and dressed in what Legolas assumed to be a night frock of sorts with a decorative robe over it – was staring back at Will. Her eyes locked with the blacksmith's, and her lips seemed to part as if she wanted to say something, but swiftly she was ushered away by two pirates towards shore – towards the black ship, ragged sails risen and haunting in nature; at least, what little could be seen of it in the clouded night.

Legolas glanced at Will again in askance of the girl, but was bewildered to find nothing but thin air where Will's head had been. Looking downwards, he found Will floored and a pirate standing right next to the boy, dull metal blade pointed warily at him. Shocked, he found the pirates' expression somewhat surprisingly nonviolent – rather, he seemed more curious than anything else. Why didn't I hear his approach?

"What are you doing out here all alone?" the pirate asked, something akin to concern tainting his features, before Legolas caught a more sinister undercurrent to his words. The pirate inched closer, while the elf stayed motionless, ears pricked. I cannot hear his steps. It sparked worry in him again – what was wrong with him? – and he wavered before raising the sword held limply in his hand out to face the pirate.

"I am a warrior," Legolas said, voice low and tight with pride. "What else would I be doing here, in the midst of battle, if not aiming to stop those such as yourself?"

To his utter, disgusted horror – and Legolas could not quite remember a time in all his long years of such a feeling ever overwhelming him – the pirate growled and said, "Mm, a spunky li'l poppet we've got here…."

Before he even realized what had happened, Legolas had already whacked the pirate upside the head with the flat side of the sword and kicked him in the stomach for good measure. The pirate – far from unconscious – rolled past Legolas' reach, got to his feet, and – after one fleeting glance at the glowering being – ran. Furious, the elf turned only to find that all the other pirates had already gotten to shore – what little they pillaged hanging at their sides.

Strange. Very strange.

Watching the black ship and hearing the distant shouts and calls of the men on the ship, it swiftly, silently gliding away from the dock and back out to open sea. Knowing somehow that there was no way any of the ships could prepare quickly enough to catch up, Legolas closed his eyes and whispered a prayer to the Valar, words of hope and sorrow lost in the dying wind. That poor girl.

He heavily turned back to Will, still passed out on the ground, and hastily crouched beside the young man. Shaking the boy's shoulders gently, he muttered, "Wake, Will, you must wake…." His efforts were rewarded with a loud grunt, and minutes later, dark brown eyes gazed back at Legolas.

"Are you okay?" Legolas asked, knowing the answer: no, Will was anything but okay. In fact, the fact that it was Will's face – so, so hauntingly similar to his own – wearing that expression that Legolas knew he himself wore only when he really wasn't okay said something.

The boy blinked dazedly, a sort of dizziness to his manner that worried Legolas for a moment. He was used to fighting alongside Aragorn, king of men – not Will Turner, child blacksmith extraordinaire. There was a difference, despite that Will's mastery of the sword was one Legolas had seldom seen in Middle-Earth; especially surprising, coming from one so young. Dropping to his knees and steadying him from behind, Legolas pulled Will into a sitting position and helped him as he stood. "You might have an injury, Will," Legolas said gently, practically pulling the boy's weight towards the forge. "You're going to rest a bit, all right?"

"Elizabeth," Will breathed out, tugging weakly at Legolas' hair. "Th…they took Elizabeth…."

At the mention of the girl, Legolas felt shame sting his heart. He had seen and been unable to go to her on time. Now Will would suffer with her. Letting a sigh slip past his lips, he continued to urge the stumbling boy back to his home, getting him past the forge and to his bed.

Tucking the boy in and resting a cool, wet rag on the back of the boy's head, where he had taken the blow, Legolas shut the door as he left and went back to the fireplace. He searched for a pillow, and helplessly grabbed the one on the floor – still ragged and torn from the elf's earlier attempt at halting Sparrow – and almost apologetically positioned it behind the boy's head. Glancing outside, he felt the urge to go and help as much as he could; but knew there was nothing he could do for them. He was no healer, after all, and despite that he was capable of patching wounds sufficiently enough during battle or war, it was not the expertise that was needed here. This was not battle, nor was it war – it was simply the devastation of a town of people who were not meant to fight.

No, he would not belong out there. He did not belong here. Wryly glancing around the forge once more and seating himself on the floor with his back to a wall, he shut his eyes. He didn't belong in this world, and therein the trouble truly lay.

He looked into the clear, flowing water of Nimrodel, resting his weary back upon one of the many mallorn trees that surrounded the city of Caras Galadhon. He felt as though by letting the firm tree keep him upright, the tree somewhat carried his burden as well. It soothed him and his sorrow into something more bearable, somehow.

He let his thoughts linger on the bubbling waters, leaving them adrift, though they only brought him back to that which he had been thinking on before. Just as waves steadily rocked themselves again the ocean shore, so did his guilt. Guilt that the burden fell to one who had not consented to it, had none to help protect it, to guide his path, or to see him back. His friend would suffer the weight of the Ring without a single friend who understood his plight. He was lost to a place of which they knew naught of – Gandalf the White had not yet awakened and Galadriel's mirror provided little information insofar.

"Mister Frodo?"

Frodo jerked forward, eyes opening widely, and turned to find Samwise Gamgee standing around the tree, looking uncomfortable, if nothing else. Taking in the slumped shoulders and weary expression, Frodo softened his hard features and tried to smile for the younger hobbit. "Yes, Sam," he said, with the infinite softness he reserved for his companions. "Come sit with me."

Taking the invitation gratefully, a small grin broke out on the other's face as he settled into the soft earth beside the ringbearer. It pained Frodo to realize that he had seldom seen his gardener so tired. Frodo leaned back again, letting his eyes rove over the beautiful foliage surrounding them and the river. It was so calm, so peaceful… and yet the forests of Lorien failed to stem the worries and troubles of those around them.

"He'd have a song to tell us about this one," Sam said softly, looking out over the water. "Haldir and his brothers mentioned something about the Nimrodel, but they didn't sing. He would've sang the story for us."

Frodo ignored the sting he felt in his eyes before replying just as softly, "Aye, he would, Sam. If only…." He didn't go on, and he didn't need to. Sam always understood.

"Come on, now, Mister Frodo," Sam said, trying to let a little cheer flow into his stiff words. "Gandalf and them know what they're doing, at least now – we'll keep Legolas safe, just like he did us. The others will be here soon."

Frodo could not help but wince. Bilbo had shared several of his adventures with his nephew, who had in turn listened carefully and logged nigh every detail into his memory. And there was one thing he couldn't help but think back to over and over, ever since they'd reached a conclusion on what steps to follow next. King Thranduil won't be very pleased.

But in his simple hobbit fashion, Frodo ignored this bit of foretelling to impart a glance to Sam. "Yes, they will. Let us hope that they know of a way to return Legolas to us – or, at the very least, a way to contact him." He felt his hands clench as the grief he felt suddenly solidified into something he could understand – perhaps not fully grasp the repercussions of – but knew was there. "He has no one," Frodo said softly to Sam, whose face softened as he, too, began to understand his elder's concerns. "I have a Fellowship to guide me on my path and keep me safe. I have a friend like you, Sam, with a will that keeps mine firm as well. But Legolas…."

"Legolas is strong," Sam replied long moments later, with a frail confidence borne of hope. "Don't you worry, Mister Frodo. He'll be fine. And you may have us, Mister Frodo, but Legolas won't have the nasty Black Riders or the Eye trying to get him, either." Smiling and joking, Sam added to Frodo's lightening spirit, "You could even say he's having a bit of a break, Mister Frodo. Not a thing to worry about."

end || silent siege


Disclaimer: Characters, plot, and places are property of Pirates of the Caribbean © Walt Disney; Lord of the Rings © New Line Cinema & JRR Tolkien. No infringement intended.

Author's Note: Next chapter will have Jack and Elizabeth, major thanks to Sidhe for reading for content and TONS of glomps for Chamaeleon for beta-reading! And a quick note on song lyrics: they reflect the nature of each chapter, obviously, though it'll be hard to understand quite how this chapter's lyrics and content really connect till later. You're welcome to guess, however ;)