Author: Estelrond

Disclaimer: The words are mine, the elves aren't

Warnings and all that good stuff can be found in Chapter one. I appreciate reviews though. I'm a feedback junkie. (Plus, if you don't, I'll send my assassin elves after you.)

I have to give a hug to Sio and Carol, my most faithful reviewers; I don't think they've missed a chapter! You rock, ladies!

Trinka- Thanks for sticking with me. I know I'm just a confuzzled little girl, but you tolerate me anyway.

San, Claudia, Any, Morwen and Sa… my world wouldn't be the same without you.

The rest of this story can be found at (reviews there are nice as well)

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Part Ten

The Price of Knowledge

Bury my lovely,

Buried alive,

Bury me under a thousand good bye's.

A shadow from another time,

Is waiting in the night.

Something hidden in the cold,

Something that will not let go.

-October Project

Legolas' gaze was riveted to the sapphire ones of 'Ros. Unable to draw himself away, he found himself drawn into the other somehow. Reality faded about him, and all became hazy, and pastel colors shifted lazily about them, sometimes accented by a pulsating red or blue. It was a dream-like world, and the elf-prince felt the emotions of the soul that had once inhabited the body of an elf.

Sorrow, wisdom, and strength seemed to swirl like a slow and inexorable maelstrom, but underlying it was a fierce fire, that could flare, dangerously, if given the opportunity, and a vibrant passion. And it was old, older than anything Legolas had ever met before. Visions of times past, the elf's memories, flashed before the prince, and he caught a glimpse of something that took his breath away…two trees, dazzling…enthralling in their radiance. They were only there for the space of a second, but when they passed it seemed leave an emptiness that Legolas had never known existed.

Then, the bearer of these memories appeared before him, and all other thoughts were driven from his mind.

His long hair swirled about him like a copper halo, whipped about by an unseen wind. His eyes, burning with blue fire, seemed to pull you into himself. The very presence of the elf was commanding and nobility shone from his features that were, though clearly male, could not be called anything but beautiful. Legolas knew in an instant that he had never met an elf like this before. This was not a scholar, but a warrior, yet, he probably knew more than Elrond, perhaps even more than Galadriel herself. And power, it radiated off him in great waves. The strength of his spirit threatened to overpower one such as the elf prince's, but Legolas could feel the other holding back, so as not to unintentionally harm the guest who had been invited to abruptly into his mind. A bright light shone about him, the nimbus of it being the elf himself, he seemed so substantial, yet, it was all illusion.

Not all beautiful, is it, Legolas. The lips moved to form the words, but the Mirkwood Elf knew that he did not have too.

"No," said Legolas, remembering the bloody battles he had only gotten glimpses of, and the memories of rage that had accompanied the images….and the horrific grief that followed. And frustration as well, though the prince could not imagine why, "No, 'Ros, it's not all beautiful…"

The smile that graced those ageless features was mirthless, You are wise, young one. You do not flatter like so many others, impressed by my presence and prowess and willing to grovel at my feet and pledge their lives to my service, but then, those were strange times. Too long ago…too long…

"How long, 'Ros?" Legolas asked.

Longer than any save one on Middle-Earth can remember. All other have passed away…Even I have passed.

Legolas reached a hand towards the red-haired elf, his heart stirred by the sorrow the other felt. He wanted to help, somehow, though how he could help one so powerful was beyond him. "Tell me, how did you pass?"

XXxXxXxXx

Aragorn and Farlest were becoming worried. The blonde elf and the auburn-furred wolf had been in a trance-like state for nigh on an hour. The dark-haired elf leaned against a tree as his eyes followed the ranger as he paced. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Cease that, Strider. You're making this worse." He chided.

The man stopped and glared at him, "I can't just sit here! They could be in trouble. Or stuck maybe."

Farlest sighed heavily, some people never learn. "You were raised in Rivendell, correct?"

"How did you know that?" questioned Aragorn sharply, confusion and suspicion etched on his face.

"I was in Rivendell…for a time." The elf's reply was soft, and he seemed grieved as if a weight had suddenly settled upon him and dampened his exuberant spirit.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The pain in those cerulean eyes seemed to find an echo in Legolas' heart, he wanted, almost desperately to know how one so very noble had fallen so far.

Would you know, Legolas? Would you know, little elf prince…would you feel?

Somehow the fact that 'Ros knew his identity did not seem to trouble him, as they were, to some extent, sharing each other's thoughts. "Yes, I would know. Show me." He felt a great uncertainty as he said this, not knowing why.

The warrior before him reached out his hand, a great expression of sadness and, Legolas thought, pity. The Wood Elf touched, and then grasped the extended hand, lacing his fingers in the elf-lord's, which felt solid, and not ephemeral at all. And the mesmerizing swirl of colors suddenly disappeared into nothingness, as he was overwhelmed with sensations unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Pain, there was horrible pain. Fire, and ash, then heat, searing and unbearable, the feeling of your body being burned away….

Legolas screamed.

To be continued…

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Merry Christmas, have a cliffie…

Carol: I know you didn't want more torment, but I DID warn you…

Aranna Undomiel: That may have cleared up a little more, or maybe it made you more confused, I don't know. Either way, we'll soon know more.

Lady of Light: Glad you like Farlest. I rather like him myself! ::grin::

Navaer Lalaith: Well, there isn't a ton of Elvish in my stories, better safe than sorry. It's such a beautiful language and I don't want to mangle it.

Namárië

-Elven Dreamer