Legolas awoke just a few hours before the ghostly brown sunlight faded into the blackness of night. He ate a meager portion of his provisions, just barely enough to keep him on his feet. But his time behind the prison camp walls had perhaps benefited him in some small way, for he was used to eating little and working hard. On the journey that now faced him, he would have to rely on everything he had ever learned. Still, his stomach made the slightest of complaints as he repacked his things and made ready to depart from his hiding place. Under normal circumstances, he would have spent a few days in that place to gather his strength and heal from his wounds, but with little food and exposure to the enemy, he had no choice but to press on.

It did not take long before the sun dropped below the horizon and the land was covered in a swift darkness. Then Legolas set out, creeping slowly through the bushes that had been his cover and back out into the open air. Immediately he felt exposed, but there was little that he could do, for the land offered few places to conceal himself. Where once there had been groves of trees and tall grasses, now there was a barren wasteland, half burnt tree stumps the only reminders of what the land had once looked like. Legolas would have to brave the open terrain.

Looking around, he strained his senses, trying to see whether or not any orcs were nearby. He could find nothing and so he began a northward path, running in swift, long strides. He supposed that he should not exert his energy so rashly, not when he needed to conserve it for the final leg, once he reached Mordor. Then too, the wound on his inner thigh ached terribly, but for now, the overwhelming sense of freedom urged him on and lightened his heart, and he found it hard to think too much on the road ahead. So he gladly let his feet speed him northwards, hoping to cover an even greater distance than the previous night.

He stopped only twice that night, to take frugal sips of water from his wineskin, and these were only enough to moisten his dry throat. He did not know when he would next find water and so conserved as much of his supply as he could. The ring he hung about his neck on a course old piece of rope that had once bound the hands of one of the elven corpses that he had found in the pit the previous night. It felt strangely heavy to him as it thumped into his breast with each step, and he found it hard to imagine what a burden it must have been for the hobbit Frodo. Still, he pushed all such thoughts as far from his mind as he could. His main focus had to be on the path ahead and his senses needed to be on constant alert for danger.

The hours flew by quickly and soon Legolas could see the sky beginning to lighten in the east. The pale dawn was coming and he suddenly found himself wondering where he was to camp for the coming day. He halted his running and took in his surroundings, surveying the land for any place that could offer protection. Suddenly, his eyes lit upon a group of trees not far off to the west. They were not yet fully dead, though the leaves were no longer a vibrant green but a dull brown, like much of the land. Still, he found the sight of living trees to be a sign of hope and made his way to them, thanking the Valar silently. Once he reached them, he scrambled up into the boughs gratefully and climbed as far up as he dared, hiding himself in the thickest patch of leaves that he could find. Then he rested his back against the strong, rough bark and closed his eyes, focusing his thought on the living being that was his shelter. He could hear the tree's breathing, though it was faint and shallow and Legolas knew that life was slowly ebbing away from it. With callused hands he stroked the thick center stem, speaking to it in elvish, his voice just above a whisper. The tree seemed to react, becoming more relaxed and drawing slightly deeper breaths. Not long after, the fatigue of the day's journey settled upon Legolas, and he happily let the world of sleep take him.

He awoke midday with a sudden jolt. The sounds of marching orcs came to his ears and Legolas could feel himself tense. They were making right for the trees where he was taking his refuge. His heart beat fast, terror gripping it. His hand strayed down to his boot and drew the crooked dagger that he carried with him while the other gripped at his shirt, ensuring that the ring was hidden from view. Now the orcs came closer and Legolas ventured a look at them through the half dead leaves of the dying tree. There were not many of them, no more than half a dozen, and they led a group of chained dwarves between their loose ranks.

Anger welled up within Legolas as he looked down upon the bowed heads of the dwarves as they passed beneath the tree. He needed to do something about the situation. To see any of the free folk bound as prisoners of the enemy was too much for him. As the last orc passed beneath his perch, he silently leapt down and landed behind the orc. Legolas raised his dagger and neatly used it to slash the creature's throat. In a similar manner, he disposed of the other two orcs that traveled at the rear of the formation. One of the three lead orcs, sensing suddenly that something was amiss, chanced a glance backwards and gave a roar as he took in the sight of the elf. Immediately the chains used to keep the dwarves in tow were dropped and swords were unsheathed. Legolas held his own blade tightly and shifted his stance, ready for the battle. The drawing of the first orc's blood had reawakened a battle lust within the prince's heart, and now he welcomed the chance to slay as many of Sauron's servants as he could.

Without warning, one of the orcs leapt forward, striking out with his sword and just barely missed hitting the elf. But Legolas was aware of the creature's intentions, and avoided the blow, striking out with his dagger in the same moment. The blade slashed the orc's midsection but was not enough to kill him. Now the other two orcs were upon Legolas and he had a few narrow escapes as he avoided the steel of their swords. His dagger found a resting place in the center of one's throat, severing the windpipe. As that orc fell, taking the dagger with it, Legolas grabbed at the sword that it let fall and used it to strike at the remaining orcs. The one that he had wounded earlier had regained its footing and had joined its companion in facing Legolas. The elf was trapped between the two creatures and having trouble avoiding the blows, due mostly to months of sitting idle in the prison camp and hunger that gnawed at him always, making him weaker than he wanted to admit.

Still, he managed to parry each blow and make a few moves of his own, slicing the air with the orc sword that he now wielded. The orc that he had wounded earlier he managed to wound once more, as the blade of his sword ripped across the orc's face, destroying the creature's left eye. The other orc rushed at Legolas, but the prince was quick enough to duck just before the impact and the orc flew harmlessly over him. Quickly it tried to stand, but Legolas still retained his elvish reflexes and was on the orc before it could get up. Legolas raised his blade and plunged it deep into the orc's heart. Pulling out the sword once more, he turned to smite the last orc, but the creature already lay dead from its wounds, a puddle of dark blood staining the ground with a ghastly black.

Now he looked at the chained dwarves, who remained huddled together, not daring to cheer at the destruction of the enemy. They looked frightened instead, not knowing what fate held in store for them, for now they were at the mercy of an elf. Surly this elf, who had so efficiently killed the orcs, would not hesitate to slay them as well. Then, suddenly, one of them cried out.

"Legolas!"

The prince's head immediately snapped up from its current job of finding the key to the dwarves' shackles. He scanned the group of dwarves, looking for the owner of the voice, for it seemed to him impossible to have heard it in the first place. Then his eyes lit up as he looked upon the familiar face that he had longed so long to see once more.

"Gimli! My friend!"