3

Legolas, however, did not have a good rest. He, in fact, did not sleep at all during the night. Rather, he lay silently and gazed at the stars wielding overtop Minas Tirith. After staring endlessly at the black sky, Legolas sat up, stretching his back and yawning. He was indeed quite tired, but something drew him towards the window. Perhaps it was his curiosity, or his wonder of the stars. Whatever it was, it had a strong grip over him. He rose silently and slipped across the room and leaned on the dusty windowsill that faced the eastern borders. It seemed strange to him that only a while ago he looked to Mordor in fear and anxiousness. He looked at it now. Something stole his glance, and then his breath.

Dozens of random, indefinable images flashed rapidly through his mind. It became so fast that it was merely a blur of lights and noise. The noise grew, louder and louder, until it became a roar. It was the sound which he learned to hate, the sound of evil; torture, clanging, and the marching terror of the enemy's army all flooded into his mind. The grip now turned to iron and clenched him uncontrollably. He breathing became faster and more difficult as the noise grew louder and the images clearer. They spun and gyrated faster and faster, and then came the angry, ghastly scream of rage. The gripping factor that had a hold on Legolas hurled him across the room.

He was in his bed. He sat up and panted, his eyes wide with amazement. Was it only a dream? He remembered the tight grip around him. It had felt so real and extremely painful. He felt the sides of his ribs where the villain had grabbed him. He cried aloud in astonishment. Startled at this strange turn of events, he leapt up, and, despite his injuries, ran quickly to Aragorn.

The hour was late and the sun still had not peaked over the mountains. It was not dark; the snow covered ground was enough to reflect the light of the moon and cast large shadows upon the cold stone. The stars were now veiled, but the moon shone brightly upon him, making him seem even more ghostlike with his pale complexion. He ran towards the hall he entered earlier that day. After slipping on the snow a few times, Legolas came upon the hall. He stumbled up to it and hurriedly opened the doors, much to the anger of the guards of the Citadel who could not reach him before he entered. He slipped and slid his way down the marble hallway. He was surprised to find that Aragorn was also not asleep at this hour. He was sitting at the table, staring widely, but at what Legolas did not know. Aragorn was in deep thought, and shook his head when he was suddenly interrupted.

"Aragorn!" called Legolas, not being able to run but still keeping a brisk pace. Aragorn erupted from his seat at seeing him up so late.

"What troubles you at this hour?" asked Aragorn. He scanned Legolas and saw the cuts in his sides, like a great beast had grabbed him and left gashed with its terribly enormous claws. "What happened to you? Where have you been?" He started from the table.

"In the bedroom," began Legolas. His eyes widened. "The window- towards the East!" he spoke wildly and quickly so that Aragorn could not decipher his words. Legolas began t mumble in this crazed tone, which astounded Aragorn; he had never seen Legolas behave so strangely. He was quite raffish and seemed to be ill. Aragorn took a hold on Legolas' shoulders and firmly spoke.

"Legolas, tell me what happened. What did you see?" Legolas' lips moved soundlessly, and his expression became confused for a moment, and he was silent. "Can you show me?" asked Aragorn hopefully. Legolas looked around him, his eyes flashing brightly in the darkness. To Aragorn, he looked strangely like a mad man.

"Did you see?" he asked quickly, his keen eyes searching Aragorn's for expression. "Did you see in the East?" With no response and an assumed 'no', Legolas continued. "Then you heard it," he said pleadingly. "Am I the only one who saw it?" When Aragorn made no response, Legolas erupted in clamor. "Look into the Palantir! You will see. Evil is brewing! I saw it. A great host lies in wait. I heard it, and I heard him. He screamed at me in rage! He was holding me. He grabbed me, and then flung me across the room! I felt him!" He beckoned at Aragorn to look at his ripped clothing and cuts in his side, now staining his garb with blood.

"Legolas, Sauron is defeated. He can not have returned. You were dreaming, perhaps," said Aragorn calmly. "You can't have talked to him." Aragorn was trying to reason the present events. He looked decisively at Legolas' cuts; there was proof, but of what, Aragorn did not know.

"But I have!" protested Legolas, acting as strangely as ever. His current manner was in much contrast to his usually silent, quick-witted, and rational self. "You must believe me. Our lives depend on it. Just look, you will see! You will hear him, and maybe even see him. A shadow grows in my mind, Aragorn. He will be ready to strike. . ." he was cut off when Aragorn spoke again.

"Legolas, can you show me?" Legolas shook his head.

"It's out the window. I can't look again. You must look. He'll find me." Legolas fearfully looked at Aragorn. His sincere eyes pierced Aragorn's core, and he wondered if it was true: could there be another dark power rising? Aragorn tried to shake the thought, but knew that Legolas was loyal and wouldn't deceive him.

"No one will find you," said Aragorn, putting a hand on Legolas' shoulder. He lead Legolas out onto the courtyard, where the guards suspiciously eyed Legolas. "Now, where is it?" asked Aragorn. Legolas extended one of his slender fingers towards the ruins of the black gate before th city of Osgiliath. Though unwillingly, Legolas' eyes were wrenched to the evil land, where the grasp about him became ferociously strong. The images flashed quickly, but the noise was the worst. It was undoubtedly the cry of the Ringwraith's winged steed. Then, one single image arose, and he was nearing the fire of Oroduin, where a secret was soon to be revealed. He noise became louder, and Legolas could feel the heat of the mountain pounding on him.

Aragorn watched Legolas cry out in pain and clamp his hands over his ears, digging his fingers into his temples. Just as Legolas felt the grip release him Aragorn watched Legolas come back into reality. His hands were at his sides and his eyes were no longer glazed with insanity. He had a sad, far away look on his face.

"Legolas?" asked Aragorn. Legolas did not respond. He slowly turned his face towards Aragorn, and Legolas' ultimately spiritless, melancholy expression surprised him. "Legolas, what did you see?" Legolas was overcome by the images and sounds and emotion. This, combined with his weariness and injuries, were altogether too much to handle. "Legolas?" said Aragorn again, the concern was distinctly in his voice. Legolas blinked once, swayed, and swooned, collapsing in a heap onto the snow. The guards, who were watching the ordeal, hastened to the scene and bent over Legolas. They pondered as they hovered over him.

"He's mad!" cried one. "Bring him to the prison,"

"Nay," said Aragorn sternly, but the guard argued.

"He's gone absolutely zany, m'lord. Sauron is back, is he?" the guard laughed, but was soon quieted by Aragorn's invective tone.

"He is ill," said Aragorn, beginning a long tirade. "He is weak and injured, and traveled for many leagues to get here. He is still wearied." No one made any remarks. "I do not know what he has seen, but I assure you: Sauron is destroyed." The guards made no move nor sound. "Go now! To your posts!" Aragorn brought Legolas into the hall, where Arwen was waiting.

"Where have you. . ." her voice trailed off as she saw who Aragorn had with him. "He is back! When did he arrive here?" She studied him as Aragorn walked past her silently. She gasped and her eyes widened. As Aragorn laid Legolas on a bed, Arwen rushed up behind him. She gently put her hand on his cheek, but quickly drew it away at the icy touch. His fair complexion was now even more pale than her own. She spoke to Aragorn slowly and hesitantly, fixing her eyes back and forth from her husband to Legolas. "Is he. . .?"

"Dead?" finished Aragorn thoughtfully. "No," He stood silently in thought. "Though he is exhausted. He came to me, begging me to look into the palantïr. He warned me that evil is rising in the East. He says he saw it when he looked out his window. I asked him to show me. After he did, he swooned and I brought him here. My guards think he is crazy."

"What do you think?" Arwen asked, laying her gentle hand upon his.

"I don't know. Legolas is steadfast and loyal. He would never send me astray. Alhtough I am sure he wouldn't send me to my doom, I fear my guards are in the right. Perhaps he is mad. But no, he is ill." Aragorn went on, convincing himself that Legolas only needed rest. "I told him I would look, but I am still quite hesitant; I don't believe I will." He walked back to the table to resume his thinking and planning and left Arwen to care for Legolas. Aragorn couldn't shake the thought of Legolas and his indeed absurd fantasies that night. He could not help but notice the gashes on his sides. Where else could they have come from? Aragorn sat in deep deliberation for most of the remainder of the night.

The following dawn was joyless A chill had settled in the air, going deep into the bones. The guards' breath could be seen coming in small puffs of moisture evident in the air. They huddled next to each other. The cold seemed to steal the very soul of the guards; it entered into their lungs with each breath, burrowing down into their bodies and killing them like a parasite. An eerie fog settled in the valley. It acted as a sort of spiritual boundary. It was a veil of peace that separated Gondor from the Black Gate of Mordor. The fog captivated Aragorn's glance, and he stared at it with some amusement. He stared widely across the meadow and hoped he might see something to help him understand the abstruse images and pain endured by Legolas. As he found nothing, he began to loose hope.

Aragorn nervously rubbed the back of his neck and thought to himself. Maybe he is crazy. It is possible; many men who have seen such things as he break down long before this. A man (or elf) can only bear so much death in one lifetime. Perhaps this is the reason the elves leave for Valinor. He troubled himself with this. He bid me look into the palantir. Perhaps I will indeed find something. He looked over to it. It sat on a stone pedestal like a prisoner awaiting judgement. Aragorn had feared the power of the orb, or rather, who may have been watching on the other side with hateful eyes. There is none to fear. I told Legolas that myself. There is no reason that I should regret to look into it. It is but a gift now, rather than a burden as before. He reached out for it, but recoiled his hand. He did not know why, but he still dreaded the palantir.

"Why do you fear it?" asked a voice from behind. From the tone, Aragorn would have never guessed it was Legolas. Legolas advanced. "You told me there is none to fear. Why do you wait?" he asked with hungry eyes. He somehow eagerly awaited Aragorn's procession.

"I am strong enough to bear it, or so have I guessed. I do not fear it," said Aragorn with an air of vanity.

"Why then, do you hesitate?" Aragorn made no answer to this, and Legolas concurred. "You do fear it? I shall tell you why: you know that you will find something that you are not ready to cope with. Look! And you will see that I do not deceive you."

"No, I do not look because I do not wish to look," said Aragorn, his pride rising.

"You refuse because you are afraid!"

"I will be the judge of that!" yelled Aragorn, rising up from his seat and slamming his fist onto the table. Legolas did not flinch nor change his expression. He stared at Aragorn with a look of determination. It could be confused with anger, but Aragorn knew better. Aragorn clenched his jaw. He began slowly, "No, friend ," he spat the word out carefully. "I will not look. You are tired. Go, and rest. You have had a long and trying journey." Legolas said nothing, but turned away and walked (with some difficulty) out of the chamber.

A cold dawn followed that next morning, and when the sun rose over the mountains, Aragorn remained at his seat he had taken the night before. All night, he had stared at the marble ball; it seemed to glow during the sark hours, making it seem like a living being itself, all the more reason Aragorn should fear it. He was asleep at the moment. His muddy brown hair spread over his face and onto the table. He remained in this manner until rudely awakened with a clamor and a sickening thud. He started form his seat and jumped slightly. He quickly rubbed his eyes, and when they came into focus, looked straight into the eyes of his fair wife.

"What is it?" he asked gently, leaning his head back upon the table.

"It's Legolas," she said quietly.

"What about him?" asked Aragorn rising once more. Concern was in his voice as he beckoned her to continue.

"He's left."

"Left?" asked Aragorn, his voice rising. "When?"

"Last night."

"How? How did he get past my guards?"

"He tied them up," said Arwen, feeling defenseless, as she always did when in the presence of anger. She was slightly overwhelmed in light of the recent events and the current relatioship between Legolas and the king.

"Where has he gone?!" cried Aragorn, now taking a brisk pace towards the terrace; his stomps echoed off the dreary walls. Arwen let a tear escape. She felt so vulnerable at this moment that it was hardly bearable. Aragorn noticed this, and so he stopped and gently took her by the shoulders.

"Meleithamin," he began. "Where has he stolen to?" Arwen shook her head, but managed to spit out a few words.

"I, I don't know," she sniffed. "But he left this message for you," She held a scroll out to him. He took it into his hands and read the commonly neat script. With a growl, he threw the parchment on the ground, stomping on it as he walked away. Arwen stood there, her hair blowing in the wind, and silently wept. She turned to watch the parchment flick and flitter with the wind up and down the entrance to the terrace until at last it took flight and disappeared over the wall.