"Legolas? Legolas!"

The blond turned with a start, staring down from the tree in which he'd been sitting to blink his enquiry at the man looking up to him. "Yes?" he asked politely.

"Legolas, we require you on the ground," Aragorn sighed, "And preferably thinking clearly." He waited only until the archer reached his side before leading him away. "There have been sightings of wargs down near the east. They ravage all in their path and seem to be in alliance with the band of orcs we have been pursuing."

Legolas cursed softly in elvish and hurried to look at the rough map that one of his soldiers handed him. Speaking quickly and quietly with the ones who, like him, were most familiar with that part of the woods, they decided on a plan of campaign. The map was hastily stuffed back into a compartment in the other elf's quiver and all bags were deposited in the guards post high in the trees above them. No provisions but what they could carry in pouches and nothing else except weapons.

"Aragorn, I need you to follow the rear guards," he began, not noticing overmuch that he was close to ordering the exiled King of Men, "Proceed straight through the woods; take no turn or winding path. The rest will follow me; we seek to make our way to the back of the wargs. Then we drive them towards you where they will be trapped between us. Is that clear?"

"Very," Aragorn commented. The plan was simple but more than effective. "You will travel through the trees? I thought so. Some of us had best stay on the ground. The wargs do not fall so well with arrows. Come, mellon nin; we await your lead."

Legolas nodded and pushed away, climbing gracefully back into the boughs of the thick overhead foliage. Four of his men accompanied him and the rest waited for a few minutes before setting off after them, running fleetly over the ground.

Aragorn, for one, was quite certain that he hated travelling through Mirkwood's forests. For one thing because it was too dark and crowded on the ground, and for another because the wood elves he fought with simply did not seem to realize this. Something twisted beneath his foot and it was only by sheer luck that his ankle did not follow. Swiftly he ran with the elves, years spent training in Imladris holding him in good stead in Mirkwood.

Four hours this furious pace kept up. And then there was a sudden low whistle like the sound of a bird and all the elves with him stopped and hid. Some made for the low branches of trees, others took to the thick bushes. Aragorn chose a bush; he was not enamoured of jumping down on the back of a warg.

Silently he let a ray of sunlight glint off his sword's polished blade, reminding them that he would give the orders to attack. The inexperienced young elves that had been pressed into duty were happy enough to follow the exalted lead of a Ranger and their Prince, both of whom were lauded as great warriors and skilled warg-killers.

Aragorn decided bitterly that the next time Legolas innocently asked for his help in a small matter, he would run away as fast as he could!

It was no more than a few moments later that the growling, snarling sounds of wargs in chase came to their ears. Aragorn looked up, caught sight of the first few of them and looked to the trees. A flash of green and then one of the teasing archers loosed an arrow that pinned the foremost warg's foot to the forest floor.

"Now!"

The elves were out and swarming in minutes, taking opportunity of the confusion of the fell beasts to fell them. Aragorn had no idea where Legolas was. He could not see any sign of the blond and hoped that the abundant stream of arrows flying from all directions was in part from his bow. He shuddered to imagine what his foster father would do to him if Legolas did not live to visit his daughter.

Carcasses rolled to the ground and the sound of yelps and elvish cries filled the air. Swords and knives hacked on the ground and very slowly the pack of wargs began to be pushed back. But the purpose was not to force them into retreat, but to kill them. So when they attempted to flee, Aragorn found himself gathering up the breath to give chase. The archers had already moved to form a wider ring around the impromptu battleground, hoping to pick off as many wargs as it were possible for them.

A snap of a branch and then a blond body fell to a branch perilously close to a warg savaging an elf. Legolas grabbed a branch on his way to the ground and gulped. The warg looked up. There was a split second stare between them and then the Prince slid to the ground, rolled and came up with his knives. Teeth snapped at him and claws ripped a fiery trench in his right arm, making him cry out and step back.

But the carefully folded piece of parchment in his pocket crackled warningly, reminding him of his goal in completing this raid as quickly as possible. He sighed; even from that distance Elrond had the power to force his actions. So he got on with it and slit the throat of the warg before ripping through its spine. The creature gave a pitiful howl and collapsed to die bleeding into the churned snow.

When the silence began to descend again, the elves got to their feet and looked around. A few had indeed escaped and Legolas quickly gave orders to follow them. Most of them ran fleetly in pursuit but the badly wounded stayed behind to let Aragorn tend to them. He had continued to carry his bag of healing equipment and carefully began to clean and bandage them.

It was dusk when the last straggling group of elves returned to the clearing. Legolas practically fell to the grass, breathing so hard that he surrendered his arm without protest to be cleaned.

Aragorn knew his friend far too well to demand to know why he had continued on with a wound this deep. He simply locked the incident away in his head, ready to produce it when Elrond demanded to know why his love was returned to Imladris not quite as whole as the last time he had left.

Not of course, the man mused, that either of the two were lovers. Indeed, everyone knew they desired it, but even Arwen had given up attempting to make her blinded Ada see that perhaps staring across the table was not quite as much fun as actually being able to kiss.

"Aragorn? Estel!"

"Hmmm?"

"Estel, may I have my arm back?"

Legolas was giving him a very patient look, as if trying to humour an idiot. So Aragorn growled low in his throat and tightened his grip. "It needs to be wrapped," he said waspishly.

Legolas blinked but meekly held still. "Why so upset, mellon nin? We have killed all but three of them and the pack has been destroyed. Now all that remains is to hunt the orcs and we will be at ease for a few weeks."

"Legolas, how long will this take?" Aragorn interrupted, looking up with narrowed eyes, "We should leave for Imladris in another few days. Lord Elrond will be expecting us."

The blue eyes suddenly became very interested in a patch of mud on the human's trousers. A long, calloused finger began to absently trace the edges of the patch, making Aragorn raise an eyebrow.

"I shall not be going to Imladris," Legolas sighed, looking up with tired eyes, "I do not know if I will go this year at all."

"What? But Bronwe's begetting day- surely you will want to be there when she celebrates that!"

"How?" A sudden slender foot kicked out from under the blond and dislodged a pile of bloodied snow. "Look at this, Aragorn! My people are plagued daily by evil and darkness. How can I leave them to fight it alone while I sit comfortably in an Elven sanctuary?"

Aragorn threw the arm away from him, bad tempered enough without having to deal with a guilt-tormented friend. "You and Ada both," he snapped, "When will you realize that as many raids and attacks as you commandeer, there will never be enough to keep all your people safe! You cannot kill every orc or warg or spider in these forests! Your daughter needs you, Legolas. She rarely sees you as it is and you did promise to be there for her begetting day. She waits for you!"

"She will understand..."

"No, she will not!"

All the elves stood uncertainly to the side and watched as their Prince and his best friend argued, shouting at each other in tiredness and misplaced frustration. The snow and grass was churned up and stained with the fight, and the bodies of the wargs still needed to be disposed of. More than that, blood, both dark and bright red stained the ground, making a sordid carpet underfoot.

Legolas noticed the stares and glanced around, flushing when he realized what his men had heard. Never did he lose his temper in their midst; for if he could not control himself, how could he hope to control them? Had any of them done this, he would have reprimanded them sharply. Knowing that, he pulled the letter from his pocket and threw it at the equally embarrassed human, stalking off to find some measure of peace with himself.

Aragorn stalked off in the other direction, fingers clenched on the delicate paper as if trying not to simply tear it and fling it into the bushes. But once away, calm came back slowly and he opened it and read it. And sighed. For Elrond had already soothed the archer's fears for their daughter's potential pain, promising that he would be missed but she would understand.

Which was fine, but Aragorn was not quite sure that Legolas could read between the lines of the graceful writing. Because even if Bronwe did not need Legolas to be present at the feast, Elrond surely did.