CHAPTER V – The Son of Elrond, the Archer of Lórien

"You really should relax, Lord Thranduil," said Galadriel in her magical voice. She watched the king pace the length of the study all day long. It was obvious he hadn't eaten or slept in a while. Galadriel was concerned for his health, but would have gotten up to do the same if she wasn't using every fibre of her being to keep herself calm.

For nearly a year now the princes hadn't returned home. They had been sent in late January as a dispatch to Mordor. The Orcs there had been trespassing into Mirkwood's realm and had killed and injured a fair number of people.

"This is my fault…" Thranduil murmured, creasing his pacing. He collapsed in his chair and held his forehead with his hand. "I should've sent more experienced soldiers…"

"You mean Elves that weren't your sons," Galadriel said.

Thranduil nodded and stifled back a sob. "What am I going to do, Galadriel?"

"I don't honestly know, my Lord."

It hurt Galadriel to tell him that. She- the Lady of the Golden Wood- who was said to be the most powerful Elven sorceress known to Middle- earth did not know. She was so used to being able to prevent occurrences and guide people through their troubles, to not be able to tell one of her dearest companions what was happening to his sons was truly horrible.

There was a sudden bang! from the main hall. Thranduil stood so quickly that he nearly knocked over his chair. Galadriel turned to the open study door. There was silence for a moment and then the sound of running footsteps. Haldir bolted down the hallway so quickly that even to the Elves he was nothing but a blur. Galadriel stood up and followed, Thranduil very close behind her. They followed Haldir up the steps until they reached the floor with the princes' bedchambers. The king and queen slowed their pace and walked silently down the hallway. Then Orophin came sprinting from behind them and pushed them both out of the way. Thranduil followed him into Ithil's room. Galadriel, however, was led by the sound of Haldir's ragged breathing into Legolas's chambers. Sure enough, there was Haldir, kneeling next to the bed where a prostrate Legolas laid. He was trying to catch his breath and calm himself down simultaneously, which was not working well for him.

"Legolas!" Galadriel gasped, placing one pale hand over her mouth.

The prince's ashen face was covered with bruises. His chest and torso were scarred from the whip lashes and it was evident that many of his ribs were broken. Galadriel nearly screamed at the physical state of him and could only imagine how mentally scarred he would be- that is, if he lived, which didn't look like much of a possibility right now.

"Mani marte?" she asked, approaching the bed.

"Mordor… hin nîn… Ron cael na ungwal… Lye na il utu i' n'at… Mordor… my lady… they had been tortured… we could not find the others…" Haldir said through sharp breaths. "Lye ma ten' sen, nan'…"

"Na sel', Haldir. Tumba suul, Be calm, Haldir. Deep breaths,," said Galadriel. "Lle ant est. You need to rest."

Haldir shook his head. "Amin ant sint manka ro na coi. I need to know if he will live."

"Haldir…" Galadriel could see the grief on his face. It was past tears; it was becoming physical pain.

"Ro na amin mellon, hir nîn. Amin then dar ah ho. He is my friend. I will stay with him."

Galadriel nodded. "Vee' lle iest- As you wish-"

She was interrupted by a scream from down the hall that could only be Ithil's. Thranduil came to the door, leaning on it for support, looking rather sick. He breathing was hitched. He looked paler now than he had before. Galadriel ran to his side. "How long until Elrond arrives?"

"A few days."

Aragorn gripped the reigns hard as to not fall off of his horse and face the fate of being crushed by its very quick-moving hooves. In all honesty, Aragorn was very scared. For starters, his stallion was running so fast that he had no control of it anymore. To add to that, he had been separated from his father. But the main reason behind his terror was that his best friend had spent the last three months in Mordor and had not yet returned. Aragorn attempted to avoid thinking of the possible fate of his companion, but it was easier said than done. Anything could've happened to Legolas. Thranduil had summoned them to Mirkwood to discuss this. Elrond had left with his sons immediately after receiving the message. Aragorn came out of his thoughts as his horse took a sharp turn to the left, causing him to almost let go. The Ranger held on tighter now. He could hear the footfalls of Elladen and Elrohir's horses on either side of him.

"Estel! Daro! Halt!"

Thankfully, Aragorn's horse understood Elven commands and stopped promptly. Aragorn sighed and swallowed hard, suddenly feeling nauseated. "What?"

"You go on to the palace. Elladen and I are going to go back and search for Ada."

"But-"

Elladen gave Aragorn a deadly glare and continued. "Once you get there, tell Lord Thranduil that we are on our way."

"All right," he agreed reluctantly. "Valar be with you."

"And you as well. Noro lim, Fallan!"

"Namarië, toror' nîn," said Elrohir before he galloped off after his brother.

Aragorn waited for a moment then took a deep breath. There was something about Mirkwood that made him extremely uneasy. The forest seemed to be alive, but with a dark energy. The air was hot and sultry, yet it made him shiver. There would be a rustling in the bushes, and then he would turn and find nothing there. And it felt like someone was constantly watching him…

Aragorn didn't continue at the pace that he had been going before- he didn't have Elladen and Elrohir to command his stallion- but he did go rather fast because of the feeling that there were eyes upon him. He didn't know how long he had been riding when he had reached the palace of Mirkwood. He dismounted and led his horse to the doors where one of the Elves offered to take it to the stables. Aragorn handed the Elf the reigns and forced open the heavy, double wooden doors, but when he entered, there was no one there.

"Lord Thranduil?" he called, his voice reverberating off the marble walls. Aragorn glanced around nervously and slowly entered into the great hall. His footsteps echoed in the vast room, no matter how quietly he walked. "Lord Thranduil?" he repeated. He sighed and then jumped at the sound of a slamming door. There were running footsteps from upstairs. Aragorn looked up and saw the shimmer of Galadriel on the highest floor.

"Estel," she said, leaning over the banister, "Thank Valar. Your father's been very worried."

"Ada is…here?"

"He's tending to Ithil at the moment. There's someone up here who could use your company, Estel."

The first person that popped into Aragorn's mind was Legolas. He bolted up the staircase and climbed the twenty flights of a hundred stairs to where the prince's bedchamber was. Quite out of breath, Aragorn stopped at the beginning of the corridor, then walked to Legolas' bedroom door. He peered in, but what he saw was most definitely not what he expected.

Legolas was lying perfectly prostrate on the bed. His face was pallid and his chest was a maze of scars. There was a bandage on his torso; Aragorn guessed it was binding broken ribs. The Elf's eyebrows were knotted in pain and he occasionally cried out in pain. Kneeling beside the bed was Haldir, who had succumbed to sleep a few hours ago. Aragorn entered silently, never taking his eyes off Legolas, much as he wanted to. He stood behind Haldir and leaned against the wall. The Lothlórien Elf suddenly woke and spun around. His distressed sapphire eyes widened with relief as he saw Aragorn.

"Estel," he said hoarsely.

"You do not look well, mellon nîn," said Aragorn, noticing how pale and tired Haldir looked. "You should go back to sleep."

Haldir shook his head. "I failed him once; I will not fail him again. Here I will stay until Legolas is well."

Aragorn gave him a quizzical look. "You have not failed him, Haldir."

"But I have, Estel. I was too late to save him and too late returning him home. If I would've tried harder to talk him out of going with the dispatch…" Haldir stopped, his voice hitching in his throat.

"This is the work of the Dark Lord, Haldir. Do not blame yourself. You are not responsible for the hostility of the creatures in the Black Land."

"Then why do I feel like I am?"

"Because you care for Legolas as I care for him. I, too, should have not allowed him to go, but I did." Aragorn suddenly realized how guilty he really did feel about the whole situation. Maybe if he had talked Legolas out of going, then Legolas would not be dying. "Legolas was only acting on his duty to his father, his people, and himself. He would have gone to matter what we would've said."

Haldir didn't say anything. He turned back to the bed and sighed. "Your father was here earlier. He took one look at Legolas and all of the hope fell out of his eyes. If not even the healers have hope, then…"

"Then we hope harder."

"Estel," Haldir remarked with a slight smile. "Perhaps it was fate for that to be your name."

"I definitely have to do it more due to the kind of people I make friends with," said Aragorn, making light of the situation.

"We, too, have prayed many times for your good health."

Aragorn smiled and kneeled next to Haldir. "My father will try his best to heal Legolas."

"I know."

Elladen suddenly burst into the room, a large cut in his side, balancing his twin on his back

"Elladen!" Aragorn cried, standing again and catching his brother before he collapsed. "What happened?"

"Elrohir and I were attacked," he replied through ragged breaths. Elladen grasped his ribs and hissed in pain. "There is an army of Orcs on their way… they've come to reclaim their prisoners…and for Thranduil…"

Elladen went limp in Aragorn's arms and Elrohir fell to the floor.

"Ada!" Aragorn called.

Elrond answered. He was slightly out of breath, and seemed agitated until he saw his sons. "What happened, Estel?"

"I wasn't with them, Ada. Elladen said that-"

There was an ominous boom that echoed into the upper floors.

"That an army of Orcs were coming to Mirkwood."

All was silent for a moment. The stillness was interrupted by another rumble from downstairs. The Orcs were trying to break their way through the doors. Elrond took Elladen from Aragorn and looked his foster son squarely in the eye. "You must hold them back, Estel. Do all that you can, for if Legolas and Ithil are once again in the hands of the Orcs, they will certainly die."

The solemnity of his father's voice made Aragorn feel as though all hope was lost, but he knew what he had to do. He turned to Haldir. "If you do not want to fail Legolas, please, fight by my side."

"You don't even have to ask."

"Be careful," Elrond said. "Pray that the Valar are smiling upon you this day. Now go!"

Aragorn and Haldir left swiftly and began the great descent of the staircase. Understanding the urgency that they get down there as fast as possible, they vaulted over one of the railings and dropped lightly to the floor. Aragorn felt his knees buckle for a moment, but continued running. All had gone quiet, but soon there were the shouts of Elves mingled with the screams of the Orcs. But the Elves shouted not in the tongue of the people of Mirkwood, but in that of Lothlórien. Haldir silently thanked every one of his archers for coming to Mirkwood's aid, but he felt relieved a little too soon. The doors burst open and Elves and Orcs came pouring in, continuing their duels with each other. Haldir and Aragorn immediately threw themselves into the battle. They took it upon themselves to guard the staircase and, so, ended up fighting off a great number of Orcs.

The cries echoed in the great marble hall, but the freakish screams of the Orcs were the easiest to pick out. Soon, Mirkwood Elves were fighting amongst them, but none of them had come to aid the pair that fought in front of the steps. Aragorn was being forced farther and farther up the stairs until he stumbled on the back of his own heel. His elbow hit hard against the marble stair and his sword dropped out of his grip. The Orc that was advancing on him, however had little time to take advantage as Haldir thrust one of his daggers through the Orc's back. It let out a scream then collapsed. Haldir helped Aragorn to his feet and handed him his sword. Aragorn took it, even though his arm still pained a little.

It was getting difficult to see and to concentrate. Haldir could hear the painful cries of his archers, his friends. At least there were no more Orcs. They had been outnumbered bad enough as it was. Haldir just kept twirling his dagger wherever he saw an Orc. He had been weary already, before the siege had begun, but now he was completely exhausted. The only thing that kept him running was the burning feeling in his heart not to fail Legolas. He had finally managed to completely concentrate, when a familiar voice caught his ear.

"Haldir! Tua! Help!"

"Rumíl!" Haldir impulsively followed his brother's cries, leaving Aragorn by himself. He fought through the mass of Elves and Orcs, trying to reach his younger brother. There was hardly any space for him to move and just when he thought he was going to sooner be squished than find Rumíl, he found him. Rumíl was cornered by three very large Orcs. He had a knife as a weapon, nothing more. Haldir took advantage of the tumult and attacked the Orcs without them even knowing he was there. Both of them fell, dead, with blood pouring out of their throats. Helping Rumíl to his feet, Haldir saw that the young Elf was in no condition to be fighting. Scared out of his wits and a little roughed up, Haldir led him back to the stairs and set him up to aid Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel. As Rumíl started up the steps, an arrow cut through the masses and hit him in the back of the neck. He fell to his knees, the world spiralling around him.

"Rumíl!" Haldir cried. "No!" He kneeled behind his brother, supporting Rumíl's body against his own. Rumíl's eyes were blank, his pupil's swallowing the blue. Haldir swallowed hard. Anger coursed through his veins. For him, the battle had just begun…