Summary: A dark secret from Legolas's past threatens to be revealed when Pippin asks a seemingly innocent question. And why does Legolas have that black arrow in his quiver? Only time will tell...

Rating: This chapter is only K, but it's going to go up

Disclaimer: Darn, darn, darn…I still don't own them. And never will. El crappo.

Final notes: This isn't slash. That's all I have to say. This fic focuses on the friendship of Legolas and Aragorn (as well as a few other things), but a friendship it is and a friendship it will remain.

Anything in is Elvish, and is not translated into the actual language either because 1)I couldn't find the right words or 2) I was too lazy. Take your pick.

A huge, huge thanks to my beta, seeing-spots! Go check out her stories. I couldn't have done it without you! She especially helped me with the Elvish , for which I am eternally grateful!

CHAINS

It had been a long day and Peregrin Took—Pippin, to his friends—was tired. Exhausted, actually, although there wasn't usually a time when he wasn't tired these days. This Journey had really taken a lot out of him. He spent less and less time laughing and joking with his friend and cousin Merry and more time worrying about keeping up with the rest of the Fellowship, or worrying about Frodo, or wondering if his strength would keep up until the next resting point.

He was getting bored, too. Not that he'd every say this out loud, since Gandalf's most likely response to this would be, "You did not come on this journey for the purpose of entertainment, Peregrin Took! If you are bored find a mirror and amuse yourself with your own face!"

He hadn't come on this adventure seeking entertainment, of course, and he was very grateful for all the rest they were getting now—Legolas had reported a lone orc that morning, and thought it might have been a scout, and though he'd killed it Gandalf had thought it best to lie low for a while. But after a while it just seemed all the trees started to look the same, and all the rocks started to just sort of blend into one another. The sky nearly always looked the same, either blue or grey, and it didn't even come in different shades of blue or grey. Naturally, he couldn't say any of this, either, as saying the trees were boring would insult Legolas, saying the rocks were boring would insult Gimli, and asking for the sky to be a different color was like wanting Bill the Pony to turn purple.

Well, as his mother would have told him, no use sitting around waiting for someone to make him less bored. He had to go and do something about it. Sure, he couldn't really go anywhere, but when he was bored there was always something he could do about it. That was a fact.

He went to complain to Merry, who was lazily smoking his pipe and resting against the foot of a large oak tree. He scowled at Pippin as the Took made his way over to him, seeming to sense his cousin's mission. This was nearly always his reaction to Pippin bothering him, but this hadn't ever deterred Pippin in the past, so plowed right on. Merry was little more sympathetic than Gandalf would have been.

"What exactly do you expect me to do about it?" he asked irritably when Pippin told him in a hushed whisper that he was bored.

"I dunno," admitted Pippin, who hadn't really thought of that and was taken aback. "You can always think of something for me to do though, so I thought I'd ask you."

Merry sighed exasperatedly. "You can't always expect me to get you un-bored, Pip," he said.

"But isn't there anything?" asked Pippin hopefully.

Merry sighed again. "Look, Pippin. Here's an idea. Why don't you go ask someone to tell you stories? You loved to hear old Bilbo talk about trolls and caves and such—I bet Boromir has loads of stories about stuff like that, and he'd be happy to tell you about them."

But Pippin's interest was now diverted to watching Legolas and Aragorn speaking quietly in Elvish. Though he couldn't understand the words, they appeared to be arguing. They did this often, so often that Pippin was sure they weren't really mad at each other at all and just did it because they felt like it.

"Fine, then," began Merry irritably. "You beg me for something to do and then don't even—"

"No, no, I do," Pippin assured him. "But I wonder…Strider seems to know Legolas awfully well…I bet…I wonder how long they've been friends? I bet they have stories."

"Why don't you go ask them, then?" said Merry, still nettled. He didn't really think Pippin would do it, and his mouth curved into a sort of smirk as he took another puff on his pipe.

"I will," said Pippin, not seeming to notice. Getting up, he boldly made his way over to where Elf and Ranger stood talking.

Aragorn stopped abruptly and looked at Pippin, not unkindly, and asked, "What can I do for you, Pippin?"

Suddenly realizing that he had no idea how to voice his request, Pippin looked at the ground, his cheeks growing warm, and stuttered, "Uh…well…I mean… I just wondered … but you're probably too busy though…"

Over on the side Merry was still smirking, smoke drifting lazily from his mouth, knowing Pippin was making a fool of himself.

Legolas cocked his head curiously to the side and said softly, "Please make your request, Master Hobbit, and trust that we will not think ill of you should it be trivial."

Maybe it was the fact that Legolas rarely spoke to anyone except Aragorn and he had now just spoken to Pippin, or the fact that he wasn't seeming to simply be humoring Pippin, or the fact that Aragorn now looked mildly interested too, but something made Pippin suddenly bold, and he asked outright, "I was wondering if either of you had any stories. You know, from your adventures together. Like how you started being friends. And like, what you did once you became friends."

Simultaneously the Elf and Man glanced at each other, before turning aside to speak quietly with one another. The look they gave each other scared him; had he asked something bad? Pippin turned to look at his fellow hobbits, who of course were by now all looking at him. Merry was no longer smirking, he was now glaring at him, giving him a half-amazed I-can't-believe-you-actually-did-it, half annoyed for bothering them look. Sam was trying to look disapproving as well, but he loved stories as much as Pippin, and anyone could tell he was hoping one of the two would talk. Frodo merely looked tired as usual and Pippin thought a good story might cheer him up a bit.

"I perian anira pennas-ista," Legolas murmured, words Pippin didn't understand. The Elf met his friend's eyes and something strange passed between them, something that none but perhaps Gandalf could fathom, a question perhaps, or even a warning.

Aragorn shook his head slightly. "Ithurini an-lin," he said. "Peregrin maquentë nat avayárima."

He knows not countered Legolas. He wants only a story—'tis nothing we have not requested in the past. He knows not. Surely it seems a small thing, to ask how such a great friendship as I believe we have has come to pass. And to request a tale is to request knowledge; he is to be commended for that.

Were I you I should feel well telling him not of our first meeting Aragorn said. I know not how they will react. Neither need they to learn of the…unfavorable circumstances under which we met. Not yet.

Legolas nodded; a shadow crossed his face as unwanted memories flooded back. I feel likewise. None but Mithrandir know of these things and it would be better if they were left untold for the time being. I am unwilling to for this knowledge to impart from me, or anyone else.

I respect that; it is understandable that you wish not for them to know.

"What're they saying?" Pippin hissed at Frodo, who was seated nearby, resting with his eyes closed. He looked as though he were asleep. However, Pippin had known Frodo long enough to tell when he was actually asleep, and when he was just resting. Despite Frodo's obvious efforts to look asleep, Pippin wasn't fooled, and anyway, this was important. "Are they talking about me? Are they mad at me? Do they say—"

"They say a nosy Took with large ears asks too many questions," said Merry crossly. Pippin stuck his tongue out at his cousin and looked pleadingly at Frodo, who opened his eyes, sighed and gave in.

"Legolas commends you for wanting to hear a story, and thinks you should get it. But—" Frodo frowned. This made no sense. What things? What are they talking about?

"But what?" asked Pippin anxiously

"'Unfavorable circumstances'?" murmured Frodo. He knew that since the two had switched to Elvish he probably wasn't even supposed to know what they were talking about. He hadn't heard much, but what heard made him wonder. What did Legolas mean by his insinuations? And why, if he had understood correctly, did Aragorn not want them to know of his first meeting with Legolas? The two had always been friends, as far as Gandalf had ever disclosed. Had one of them been in connection with dark powers at some point?

"What? What did they say?" Pippin demanded impatiently.

"I don't understand," said Frodo, still talking to himself. "Gandalf knows but he is the only one…" He frowned, cocked his head to the side, thinking. "I suppose if it were pertinent to this mission they would tell us…"

"Is something wrong?" Pippin asked desperately. "If it's a big deal it doesn't really matter—tell them I'm not that bored—"

"…although they might not want to worry us, I suppose that could be why…but…no, if it were really important they would say something…no, I suppose it is nothing at all," Frodo finished absently, glad he'd decided on that.

"FRODO!" Pippin finally yelled, attracting the attention of everyone, including Aragorn and Legolas, who broke out of Elvish and came to speak with the hobbits.

"Legolas has consented to give you a few tales of our adventures together," Aragorn said, and left it at that. Neither of them gave any sign that anything ill had been said. Frodo wondered if he hadn't mistaken their words at all; after all, his Elvish was a bit rusty. "But let me warn you that most are not humorous and are not likely to make you laugh. However, they will keep one of us entertained during this wait, so that one will not succumb to utter boredom." There was a twinkle in Aragorn'seyes, and everyone looked at Pippin, who suddenly became very interested in examining his fingernails.

"Are they exciting tales, Mr. Strider?" Sam asked eagerly, abandoning all pretense.

Aragorn nodded gravely. "To some they would be exciting…a hobbit no doubt will find those escapades thrilling. I think you will find our adventures up to Bilbo's standards."

"Well, do it quietly, so the rest of us don't have to listen to you, Elf," grumbled Gimli, who didn't sound at all keen on having Legolas speak for long periods of time. Legolas ignored him.

"It seems a story would be good distraction to these evil times," Boromir spoke up. Legolas looked at Aragorn. The Ranger smiled slightly and gestured to the rest of the Fellowship.

"You have an eager audience, mellon nin."

"Where to start…?" Legolas murmured.

He glanced again at Aragorn, who replied, "Why not the tale of our first experience with orcs, wargs and giant spiders? That would make for a good start."

"Like the kind of spiders Bilbo met?" inquired Frodo, also interested by this point.

"Exactly that kind, of Mirkwood Forest," replied Legolas. "This tale takes place…well, I don't remember exactly when, but I suppose Aragorn must have been around thirty and I was…about that same age by your standards. We were, for once, minding our own business—" Aragorn rolled his eyes "—and we were attacked by spiders which had been tainted by the evil which now envelops much of Middle-Earth. And not only were these spiders pure evil, they had orders from an unknown Master and were aided by Wargs and Orcs…And to make our problems worse they were carrying a kind of toxin, which, if ingested, would cause the victim to fall into a deep sleep from which they would never awaken unless the anitdote was administered within forty-eight hours. Well, Aragorn and I were outnumbered eight to one…"

And so began the storytelling.

TBC…

Next chapter: Legolas's Story!

Please R&R if you enjoyed the first chapter!

I perian anira pennas-ista—The halfling wishes to know our history

Ithurini an-lin—The secrets are yours

Peregrin maquentë nat avayárima—Peregrin asked a thing which ought not be related to