Reviewer Responses for Chapter 8...

Amthramiel: Thanks for reading the story! And as for Legolas being the reborn Cellnen...I dunno, IS that right? smiles innocently

Deana: I'm happy that you like the way Legolas is characterized in the story. I am trying to keep him in character; I don't like stories where the characters are too far off. He is strong, but also sensitive...

Kelsey: As always, glad you are enjoying the story. Seeing that phoenixqueen and I already mailed you responses to your review...I don't have to answer it again! BUT...thanks for sticking with us and enjoy this post and the next!

Zammy: Your wish is my comment...(hits the button to post the story chapter...(Or rather, my beta does that...but you get the picture!!))

Note: Legolas' age has been a topic of debate in many circles. For this story, we have decided to go along with the idea from the movies that he is in his late two-thousands despite the fact that many argue he had not reached even one thousand at the time of the Fellowship and the War of the Ring. We wanted to avoid doing any kind of drawn out math, and we also wanted to place him as being in the same age range as Elladan and Elrohir, and at this point they are 2881, so by using Peter Jackson's estimate as a starting point, we've made him slightly older than the twins. If you do not agree with this age, that is fine by us, but please do not flame us or point out he is much younger...after all Tolkien never did say how old he was in so many words. We have read the accounts concluding he is younger then one thousand, but chose to use this age anyway. Thanks for understanding and enjoy the story.

-Gwenneth and phoenixqueen
Chapter 9: Second Strike

Rohan...four days earlier...

Faramir paced the halls of Meduseld, worrying about Eowyn and hoping she would return with aid in time. The journey from Minas Tirith took about eight days. The feast is in a week's time. Will the attack come during the feast?

His mind was beginning to dwell too much on the feast. He was still coherent enough to know that the spell's intent was to create a false illusion of safety. Dwelling on thoughts of pleasure and food was not something he wanted right now.

"Faramir! Where has that sister of mine gotten to? I told her to rest in her old quarters, but when I went there to speak with her she was not there," Eomer had entered the hall through a back doorway, startling Faramir from his thoughts. The man had not had time to formulate a response to Eomer's question and he stood, contemplating, for a few moments before speaking.

"She had to return to Minas Tirith. She would not say for what, only that it was immensely important and that I need not accompany her," he smiled. "I believe she suggested I would only slow her down and she wanted to return before the feast."

Eomer's eyes clouded and narrowed in suspicion. "Back to Gondor? I wonder for what purpose she made that journey after having just arrived." He frowned. "This is unexpected. I had hoped to have her help with the preparations."

The captain of Gondor took this opportunity to change the subject. "Let's go prepare then. Surely we will not let a little mishap like this interfere with the feast preparations!"

Less enthusiastic then would be expected, Eomer nodded. "All right, let us go then. There is nothing I can do about Eowyn now. I am fairly certain she is long gone." He did not smile, nor did his suspicions lessen. He couldn't put a finger on why it bothered him in this fashion. Shouldn't I be upset, not suspicious?

He cast all thoughts other than the feast from his head and led Faramir from the throne room.
Aragorn's Company...the plains of Rohan...

The riders of Gondor had been traveling at break neck speed for an entire day now, without so much as a stop, and the horses were beginning to tire. Aragorn was loathe for any delays now, but knew that if horses started dropping they would jeopardize their mission. So he called a halt.

"We will camp here until first light, and then continue on to Edoras. See that the horses are well watered and taken care of. We have a hard day of riding ahead of us," he said as he drew the column of soldiers to a stop. There were sighs of relief. Many of the men were not accustomed to long rides and he could see the toll it was taking.

Eowyn was the only one who argued about the stop. "But my lord, we can not stop! We must ride on; the orc army may already be on the march to Edoras!" She was trembling slightly and Aragorn could see she was about to collapse. Before he could intervene, Legolas came over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Milady. You are doing your brother and husband no good by killing yourself to get there. If you were to continue riding straight through, if any of us were, we would arrive in Edoras too tired to fight. Is that really what you want?" Leave it to the elves to speak bluntly.

Her eyes softened and she hung her head. "No, Legolas, you are right. We mustn't kill ourselves getting there. I am just so worried about my family, my people." She stopped, looking the elf in the eyes. "I am sorry; I forget that you have lost your people to this same threat. No doubt you understand my fears."

Legolas, to his credit, smiled. "Yes, I am glad that I can be here for you to speak to. I know it is important not to hold your feelings in. So anytime you need to talk, seek me out, I will not mind." He took his hand from her shoulder now and walked slowly back to his horse.

Gimli was watching him closely, looking for any signs of distress from his elf friend. When he saw none, he smiled lightly and moved off toward the four hobbits, who had begun lighting a fire to prepare a meal. "Always thinking of food aren't we Samwise Gamgee!?" He laughed, plopping down beside Merry and Pippin.

Soon, Legolas joined them, his eyes thoughtful. Frodo, noticing the elf, spoke first. "Legolas? Of all the people in the Fellowship, you were the one I knew least about. You were quiet, we never learned anything about you save that you were the son of Thranduil of Mirkwood. Even now, I do not know a lot about you. I know you have been alive a long time, maybe you could share some stories with us!"

Merry and Pippin nodded excitedly, the hobbits loved storytelling and who better then an elf that was millennia old to tell a story. A small smile spread across the elf's face. "You have a point, my friends. I did not disclose a lot about myself. Nor do I ever." Sighing, he leaned back against a boulder and thought for a moment. "Perhaps I can tell you a little about myself, beginning with my age."

Aragorn came over, smiling, in time to hear the last few words. "Yes, you might not know just HOW old our elf friend really is." He too sat down, joined by Eowyn and Arwen. "Please go on, or shall I break the news to our hobbit friends?"

Legolas shook his head, laughing. "No, I think I can handle this one, Estel." He turned to the hobbits and answered the question. "I am 2933 years old, which is quite young, for an elf. My father, King Thranduil is FAR older then that."

The hobbits knew elves were immortal, but they were astounded at how old their friend was. "You don't look a day over 30!" Pippin said, his awe conveyed by his voice. "How is it you are so old, but look so young?"

Arwen laughed. "If only you knew how old I am!" She would not give any further answer, leaving the hobbits to guess at the Queen's age.

Merry thought for a moment, trying to make a guess. He studied her, but because her face held such wisdom, it was hard to tell if she was older or younger than Legolas. "Are you...5000, Lady Arwen?"

Both Arwen and Legolas laughed. Arwen shook her head. "The only clue that I will give you is that I am younger than Legolas." The hobbits looked surprised at that, for if anything, Arwen appeared older than Legolas. "Once an elf reaches adulthood, they change relatively little in appearance. Legolas and I have looked much as we do now for hundreds and hundreds of years."

Sam spoke now, looking at the elf prince with a new respect. "You must know a lot then. Having lived so long, I mean. You lived through many lives of men! Can you tell us about your people?"

For hours, Legolas and then Arwen spoke of the elves. It saddened the hobbits when they realized that their friends were some of the few elves left in Middle-Earth. Their race sounded so intriguing and they would have liked to have had more contact with the elves, learned more from them.

"So you talk to trees? That is how the Ents first learned to speak?" Pippin said, finally realizing how the trees learned language. "I never knew that! We never asked Treebeard how the Ents came to talk. But I see now!"

Legolas laughed. "Yes, that was way before my time though. I heard of it in stories. Until I met Treebeard, I had never met an Ent, or had a conversation with a tree in words. Elves often speak to nature, but we rarely are answered in words." He looked at Eowyn and smiled lightly. The woman had fallen asleep some time ago, her head lolled back against her horse's leg, the horse not moving an inch for fear of waking his companion.

Aragorn followed Legolas' gaze. "Perhaps the Lady Eowyn has the right idea. We should all get some sleep. I have already set up a watch among the soldiers. There is no need for us to remain awake. Please, rest, for tomorrow we have a long ride to Edoras."

Arwen followed her husband off to a spot a few yards away. The hobbits grouped close to the fire and Gimli sought a spot near the rocks. Legolas had no intention of sleep at the moment; his thoughts were too alive with memories of his friends in Eryn Lasgalen. Speaking of the elves had jogged his memory and it saddened him.

He thought all the others had gone to sleep until his elf hearing perceived light footsteps approaching. Knowing who it was before they arrived, Legolas had to laugh. The dwarf was trying so hard to sneak up on his friend, but he would never achieve the silent walk of an elf.

"Gimli, I thought Estel said we should all sleep?" The elf chided, turning to look at the dwarf as he sat beside him on the grassy knoll.

"Aye and he meant us all. You included Master elf!" Gimli retorted, a smile on his face.

Legolas sighed. "Well, in case you have forgotten, I can rest as we ride, for elves have dreams unlike any other species of Middle-Earth. I do not need sleep right now. Even if I had to, I would not be able to. I have too much on my mind."

Gimli nodded, knowing this to be so. "That is why I came over, my friend. Perhaps talking about it would be the best way to cope with these thoughts." He wasn't used to a conversation with the elf that did not include sarcasm, but Gimli knew something troubled his friend.

For long moments, Legolas said nothing. Then, all of a sudden, he began to speak. "Talking about the elves brought back so many memories, Gimli. I never knew what it was like to be lonely until now. I will walk this world until all that I hold dear grows old and dies. I am still immortal."

The dwarf had been expecting something like this, but the sorrow he could hear in Legolas' voice startled him. The usually cheerful elf had never been so upset before. Racking his brain, Gimli strove to find words of comfort. He could find none.

"I am sorry, my friend. I can not share your feelings, I am not immortal. But as long as I live, as long as Aragorn and Arwen and the hobbits live, you will not be alone. Once we are gone, you still have Valinor. You are free to go there when we pass. You would do well to remember that." That said, Gimli rose and returned to his bedroll, leaving the elf prince to ponder his words.

Gimli is right. I will not be alone so long as my friends live. And I will have the Havens to look to after their deaths. It is just the thought of losing them that grieves me. My father warned me of the sorrows of deep friendships with mortals. I am now beginning to understand the reason for his warnings. Sighing, Legolas gazed up at the night sky and allowed himself to fall into an Elven sleep, eyes open and unmoving.
Edoras...two days later...

"Faramir? Do you think I should wear the red or the blue tunic? Which makes me look more kingly, more...mature?" Eomer was holding up two tunics, one red with gold trimming and one blue with silver trimming. Faramir stood off to the side, watching the young king with amusement.

Stepping forward, he pretended to thoroughly examine each garment and then smiled and answered. "Definitely the blue. It brings out the best in you. Besides, I am wearing red and we don't want to look like twins!"

The king of Rohan laughed. He was having a wonderful time preparing for the feast with his brother-in-law. As a matter of fact, nothing else mattered, not even his sister's departure bothered him now. Decorations and entertainment had been taken care of; food was well on its way to being set. All that remained was one more day to waste away before Eomer's birthday celebration.

"Tomorrow, my dear Faramir, we will feast like you have never feasted before. The Rohan know how to put on a birthday celebration. We have not fallen on bad times since the end of Sauron and we are thankful to have food in abundance!" Eomer laid out the tunic for tomorrow and went out to enjoy the day with his guest.
Cheer was not restricted to Rohan that day, for a black being in a dark tower was rejoicing as well.

"The Rohan king is so full of merriment; he has not even posted any guards this day. They will not see the army on their border, not know that this birthday feast will turn quickly into a funeral. My spell has taken hold strongly in Rohan, no one resists like King Thranduil did. These mortal men are no match for the likes of Graelath."

He laughed a high-pitched, cackling sound that echoed through the halls of his tower.
Plains of Rohan...the morning of the feast...

Aragorn woke his companions just as the sun crested the horizon. Legolas helped him, having risen not long after the king. Together, they had the whole company up and ready to ride in no time. The hobbits grumbled something about breakfast, but they did not ask to remain. They knew that the threat to Edoras was far more grave then missing a meal.

"Today is King Eomer's birthday feast. I fear the Orcs will attack today, we must make it to Edoras before the day is out!" Aragorn spurred his horse forward, the forces of Gondor wasted no time doing the same. Eowyn, refreshed by the night's rest, rode at the head of the column with Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas and Gimli. They all remained silent, each caught in their own thoughts.

Hours flew by, no one rested and no one complained. They had already passed into Rohan, letting the horses fly across the grassy fields, weaving around jutting rocks. The men weren't able to make out the city yet, but Legolas suddenly cried out in dismay.

"We are late! The orc army has already arrived in the city; I can see the city besieged. But they are still there, we are better off then if they had already finished their deed."

Hearing the elf's announcement spurred the men and women on. Whispering in elvish to his horse, Aragorn surged forward, worried that the people of Rohan would be far worse off then the elves were. "Hurry, we are nearly there! I can see the golden hall of Meduseld! Ride men of Gondor; ride and we will defeat the orcs here and now!"

But he could not help but notice the shadow creeping into his mind as they drew nearer to the city. It worried him and he glanced towards Legolas, hoping his friend would be able to figure out the secret of the air shroud and shield them from Graelath's spell.

The shadow did not escape the prince's senses either. He remembered the feeling he had felt in Eryn Lasgalen, but this time he knew what he was up against and he knew there was a way to protect himself from it. If only he knew HOW to do it! I must figure this out before we reach the city. If not, we will be lambs to the slaughter. We will reach the city in chaos.

The orcs had seen the approaching riders and were now turning their attention to the oncoming forces, leaving the villagers alone for the moment. Aragorn drew his sword, raising it in the air and shouted for his men to engage.

Swords clashed. The men were fighting, but gradually falling under the spell. Legolas desperately racked his brain for any knowledge that might shed light on the shroud as he shot off arrow after arrow. He could see the confusion in the eyes of the men around him; could see them faltering.

Much to his surprise, he heard the same voice that he had heard on the way to Rivendell, the voice that sometimes aided him in the use of his magic. It was barely a whisper, penetrating the shadow with difficulty. : Remember the trees from your story: the voice said.

For a moment, he was stumped. He continued to fight his enemies, thinking of what the voice could have meant. As he sidestepped a vicious thrust, he had it.

He remembered explaining how elves spoke to nature to the hobbits. It's a long shot, he thought to himself. But it can't hurt to try 'asking' nature for help. After all, elves speak to trees; why not speak to other things in nature? This should be no different really. Attacking another orc with his long knife, Legolas took a deep breath and begged that his efforts would pay off. Please, Gweluthand, we have need of your assistance! Protect us from the spell of the Ethaim!

Much to the elf's surprise, a light blue mist began to appear out of thin air. The fighting around him faltered slightly, both men and orcs surprised by the new development. The mist thickened but did not inhibit the fighting; it was easy to see despite its presence.

They felt the shadow in their minds grow weaker and weaker until it was no more then a whisper, easily ignored. Aragorn smiled to himself as he fought a particularly ugly Uruk leader. Legolas must have figured out how to raise the air shroud!

Legolas himself was still in awe. It worked! I never in a million years thought it would be so easy to do! Thank the Valar that nature is on our side!, he thought as he swung his knife in a wide arc, slicing into an orc's soft neck.

Suddenly, Eomer and Faramir exploded from the banquet hall. Faramir had a deep sword slash in his right shoulder, rendering his arm useless, but he was holding his own with his left. "Thank the heavens you made it!" He shouted to Aragorn, his senses having fully returned to him.

Eomer seemed confused. He had no idea why his city was under attack, why he had not known that the orcs were approaching. He hadn't known there was an attack until they had begun to break into the banquet hall in the middle of his feast. I will have to remember to ask my friends what is going on here. They seem to know something I do not.

Eowyn shouted a warning to Legolas, who was unaware of an Uruk approaching his right side. He sidestepped, barely avoiding a nasty blow to the head. Hearing Eowyn's voice, Faramir faltered. He had not expected his wife to be in the heat of this battle.

His momentary lapse of concentration nearly cost him his life. Legolas, seeing the threat, jumped forward, throwing himself into Faramir, wincing as the Uruk blade sliced into his thigh. Both fell to the ground and were quickly covered by Gimli.

"Legolas! Are you all right?" Faramir dragged the elf to his feet, eyes roving over the prince looking for an injury. Catching sight of blood just before the elf was able to shield it with his hands, Faramir frowned. "You shouldn't have!"

But he knew that the elf had saved his life. The blow had been directed at the man's chest, Legolas had not only knocked Faramir to the ground, but he had also jostled the Uruk, throwing off his aim. They didn't have time to argue what Legolas should or shouldn't have done. As the elf faltered, Aragorn could see the mist lighten and the shadow darken.

"Legolas, you must not lose consciousness, if you do the shroud will dissipate. All will be lost!" Aragorn hated to see his friend in pain; Legolas suddenly seemed to attract injury like a horse attracts flies, he could only wonder how the elf had managed to avoid injury during the War of the Ring. The elf must have heard him because Aragorn could see him straighten and force himself to continue fighting.

Arwen suddenly called from somewhere behind Aragorn. "Why do they not cease if there is no spell to control them? Do they follow this Graelath of their own free will?" She slashed at an orc with her sword, barely avoiding a blow to her arm.

Suddenly, there was a cry from the left. Frodo wavered, and then toppled to the ground, unmoving. Sam cried out in rage, trying to get to his master. Merry and Pippin, much like they had in Moria, attacked the orcs with renewed fervor.

Seeing the hobbit hit the ground angered Legolas. He knew that he was losing his strength, but he called on the shroud again. Gweluthand, stay with us. Do not falter as I do, for I grow weak with loss of blood. We need you to stay strong!

He waited tensely to see if the mist would thicken again. When it did, he smiled, glad that Gweluthand heeded his pleas. Then, the elf hurried toward the fallen hobbit, swinging with his twin blades as he did so, hoping Frodo was not dead.

He reached the hobbit just as an Uruk did. His right leg, barely able to hold his weight, wobbled dangerously. Eyeing the Uruk, Legolas tightened his grip on his blades, ready to attack if need be. The Uruk grinned, his black, rotten teeth showing behind black lips.

Then he lunged at the elf. Whirling to the left, Legolas pivoted on his good leg, slashing with his right blade and connecting with the Uruk's fleshy arm, but the blow didn't kill him unfortunately. They locked eyes again, neither willing to let the other reach the hobbit.

This time, Legolas attacked, surging forward to the left, but still favoring his injured leg. Seeing the elf's bloody thigh, the Uruk balled its hand into a fist and smashed it down on the wound. Legolas was caught by surprise, not expecting this tactic and cried out in pain, crashing to the ground as the leg gave out.

Suddenly, an ax came out of no where, hitting the Uruk straight in the face. Legolas turned slightly, seeing Gimli quite a ways away. He smiled lightly. "Thank you, elvellon (elf-friend)!" He called, now able to crawl to Frodo's side.

Flipping the hobbit over, Legolas found a bloody wound on the left side of the hobbit's forehead at the hairline. He cringed. Frodo was impossibly still and blood rolled down his face and gathered in his dark hair. Legolas felt for a pulse, relieved to find a weak one, and moved to lift the hobbit. Then it dawned on him. I'll never be able to pick him up! I can not even hold myself up with this leg!

Looking around, Legolas saw that the orcs were dwindling in number; the strength of the unshadowed soldiers was too much for them, for they had been expecting little or no resistance. Inwardly, Legolas wondered if Graelath knew what was happening in Edoras.

He held onto Frodo, siphoning healing energy into the hobbit in hopes that he could keep him alive until either Aragorn could administer his healing herbs, or Legolas was strong enough to work his Elven magic. Right now, it was a miracle he himself was still conscious.

Determined to protect his fallen comrade, Legolas notched an arrow in his bow and let it fly. It hit home in the forehead of an approaching orc. He continued to fire arrow after arrow, killing any and all orcs and Uruk's who approached himself and Frodo.

All the while, the light blue shroud continued to shield the company from the evil spell, heeding the elf's last plea for help even if he were to falter completely.
The Misty Mountains...

Well this is an unforeseen complication, Graelath thought to himself. I had not expected Gondor to catch on so quickly. I know they rode to the aide of the elves too late, perhaps they found a survivor. Perhaps I have missed something very important.

He looked over his maps, noting that Eryn Lasgalen, once called Mirkwood, and even before that, Greenwood, had once been near the home of Cellnen, the only one to ever find a way to block Ethaim spells. Perhaps there is a Silvan elf that is descended from Cellnen? A Silvan elf that was not killed? One who is blocking my spell? There is no other explanation; it should have shadowed the men of Gondor when they came into the city. But I was fairly certain I followed Cellnen's descendents closely! There should be no one left!

Anger welled up in the man and he slammed his fist down into the map. "I will not be thwarted by some elf descendent of that half-wit Cellnen. I killed him; I will kill this one as well!" He smiled an evil grin full of malice. "I will up the ante a bit. I will attack where they least expect it."

He looked down at his maps, took a dagger from his waist and slammed it down onto the table. "I will attack the most helpless of your friends. I know the part they played in the destruction of Sauron, now they will pay dearly for it."

The blade had been dug deeply into a portion of the map labeled, The Shire.