DISCLAIMER:

See chapter six

Series:

None.

Spoilers:

See chapter one

A/N: Umm…wow…I don't have any excuses…to those of you who used to review this…I'm quite sorry. It's been three years, almost to the day, since I last updated this story. However, I now have more time, a calmer life, and a winter break to work on some of these stories that I wrote so long ago. I'm thinking I may have to rewrite a bunch of this (I'm not terribly pleased with the way everything turned out).

However, I am going to try and finish this story, if only because it's the best one (in my opinion) of my stories, and the easiest one to save from how I used to write as a 14-year-old. I'm a little rusty, so this is my warm-up chapter…

Anyway, as always, please review, rave, rampage, rip, roar, and most of all, read.

Three Rings for the Elven-Kings

Chapter Twelve

No Sign of Them

"Endara."

The Elf firmly ignored Aragorn's soft call. He was bent double under the cave's roof, pulling rocks down from the top of the cave-in to make a breach. To his annoyance, his fingers kept slipping on the rocks, even as he dug fiercely to make an opening large enough for the Company to squeeze through.

"Endara, you should rest." Aragorn sounded tired, but the Ranger was stubborn, and was fighting sleep as he watched the elf toil away. Red coals from their fire gave shadows to the sleeping or half-sleeping figures: Gandalf, Gimli and Gimshe slept on the side of the fire closest to the cave-in. Aragorn and Boromir slept on the further side.

"If I have enough strength to guard while the Company rests, I have enough strength to dig." Endara struggled as his fingers grew more and more slippery with every stone he tossed.

"Endara, you fool, get down here and let some of us get some sleep!" Gandalf snarled suddenly into the darkness. "If one more rock rolls by my pillow, I'll be using you as my mattress-cushion!"

Endara hesitated, and then made his way slowly down the rocky avalanche to the stone floor, where the others were sleeping. It is unwise to anger a Wizard, he thought as he descended. Weariness that had nothing to do with his physical state came like a crushing blow, and the elf dropped to his knees next to Aragorn.

The fire had died low, and it was in the dim red light that Aragorn glanced at Endara's hands and studied the bruised flesh. "Your hands are bleeding," he said, fishing around in one of his packs for a bandage. "You should let them heal."

"Sealbeth, Hantor, and Legolas are waiting for us at the cave's entrance. The longer they wait there, the more likely it is they will be discovered. And Hantor was wounded in the cave-in; every moment we stay here is a moment putting my lord and friends in danger." The elf's eyes glittered in the faint light, shinning with the fierce inner fire that so distinguished his kind from all other Middle-Earth races. "I cannot rest until I see them safe."

"I fear for them as well, Endara," Aragorn said, using his good arm to carefully bind the elf's hands in cotton bandages. He finished with expert swiftness and leaned his head down, closing his eyes. "But we all need rest, including yourself. If you cannot bring yourself to rest, at the very least keep the fire going, for those of us who tolerate cold less well than the Fair Folk."

"As you wish," Endara murmured quietly. The sorrow in his voice was thick enough to be cut with a knife.

A rough, gravelly throat cleared itself nearby.

"I couldn't help but overhear," Gimli said, quite gruffly. "But I wouldn't worry about your elf-friends, or the Ranger boy. That Legolas is quite a shot, and Sealbeth is a fierce fighter. You've nothing to be concerned over, elf."

Aragorn witnessed something few mortals had ever beheld: an utterly stunned elf, staring open mouthed at the unmoving form of a dwarf. The expression on Endara's face changed rapidly from surprise, to bewilderment, to a soft smile that relaxed the elf's features. Then his face smoothed over and he stretched out beside Aragorn.

"If the dwarf says it, it must be so," he said into the darkness, a smile in his voice.

"If I hear one more word out of any of you," Gandalf said, his voice muffled by his cloak, "I'll turn all of you into moles, and let you dig me a way out of here."

Comfortable silence fell, and at last the Company all found sleep.

The stony path they'd followed for so far gradually gave way to broken ground, and eventually to dirt, and a few small patches of plant life. The darkness, kept at bay only by Gandalf's staff, gradually lifted: like the progression of dawn, the light was first blue, then gray, then white, and at last they stepped out of the Northern Pass onto soft moss and grass, staring out across an open skyline that sloped downward into a distance shadow of a forest.

"That," said Gandalf, pointing off into the distance, "is the forest of Lothlórien, and our present destination."

Gimshe frowned and bent over the ground. "These tracks are several days old." He straightened suddenly. "How like an elf to go on without the rest of the company."

Before Endara could turn and snarl a reply, Gimli shook his head. "No, brother. See these tracks? These are orc prints." He spat on the ground, as though the word itself left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Aragorn came to Gimli's side. "You are right. Over fifty of them, by my reckoning. Legolas and the others must have fled, unable to wait."

"It is as I feared," Endara said, and leapt lightly into a nearby tree. He climbed swiftly, his head breaching the top of the tree. He let his eyes trail slowly across the mostly-open ground, straining to see into the distance. For the love of Elbereth, from where they stood to the borders of Lothlórien, he saw no sign of their companions.

"Nothing," he said, dropping to the ground. "They must have reached Lothlórien."

No one wanted to bring up the other possibility: that Sealbeth, Legolas, and Hantor were dead or captured, and the Ring was in the hands of the Enemy.

"We never should have let them go on without us," Endara groaned, his fair face twisted in pain.

"They had no food or supplies," Boromir said. "They could not have survived."

"Elves are not like mortals," Endara snapped, rounding on the human. "We can survive without food or water, unlike you mortals. And if you, Mithrandir, hadn't insisted they go on, alone, with the Weapon of the Enemy no less—"

"Hush!" Gandalf said, silencing the elf with a look. "What is done is done. The important thing now is to find our companions. Endara, did you truly believe that we would all follow Legolas into the very fires of Mount Doom, down the long road to Mordor? Did you never consider that Legolas may wish to leave us behind, out of concern for our own safety?"

Endara fell silent, his eyes still flashing with anger. Gandalf continued. "Those who bear Rings of Power do so utterly and truly alone. No one can help Legolas bear his burden. And while we can stand at his back, and defend him from orcs, and other allies of the Enemy, this quest is his alone. The time will come when you will have to let Legolas complete his task, unaided."

"That time may come," Endara said, tightly. "But it has not come yet."

"We waste time arguing," Gimshe said. "We should be off."

"We have no supplies," Boromir protested. "Some of us need food."

Gandalf fished in his pouch and pulled out several leaf-wrapped packages. "You may recognize these," he said, smiling at Aragorn's wide-eyed expression. "They're a year or two old, but still perfectly good."

Gimli and Gimshe sniffed their packets with suspicious. Aragorn and Endara ate swiftly, while Gandalf handed the last package to Boromir.

"What is this?" the Gondorian asked in surprise after his first bite.

"Lembas bread," Aragorn said, swallowing his last bite. "A few bites will keep a man's stomach full for a long day's march. The elves of Lórien make them."

"Can you run, Gandalf, or will one of us carry you?" Endara enquired of the Wizard, a little stiffly.

Gandalf scowled, his bushy eyebrows coming together over his forehead. "Elf, I was running these woods long before your great-great grandfather was weaned off his mother's milk. I assure you, I can keep up."

And so, with Endara and Aragorn in the front, Gandalf and Boromir behind them, and the two dwarves taking up the rear, the Company set out on the long road south and west towards Lothlórien.

And the saga continues….