I'm still alive! A big thank-you must go to Thundera Tiger, who made the crucial poke in getting me back on the story (I was still working on another Estel-Elrond fic). Had to re-read the beginning and the last few chapters, which goes to show how long I've been away from this story. Fortunately I have a habit of keeping notebooks on my writing, so I have all my notes to refer to. Plus, I never completely forgot the essence of this tale. Anyways, I've decided to go ahead and put this fic as AU, as I cannot possibly claim it to be completely canon. And yay for 100 reviews (wellduh being the hundredth)! Hope y'all enjoy!

"I also will come," said Legolas. "For I do not fear the Dead."
- The Passing of the Grey Company, Book V of the Red Book

Come and gone…

"Ada!"

He was in his old room, in Rivendell. It had a double bed and a connecting door to their parents' bedrooms. There was a large window to let in sunlight, a bookshelf on the corner with little chairs carved by their own Ada, a trunk filled with toys in the other corner on top of the carpet made by their Nana. It was how he remembered that room best, but with one terrifying difference- there was no Elrohir.

"Ada!" Ada always came when he was hurt. Nana came too, but she must be away visiting the Lady Galadriel. She always did that, when she missed the Golden Wood. "Ada!!'

Why are you crying, my Elladan?

"I've lost Elrohir!"

Lost? How can you lose him?

Where was his Ada? The voice was there, but the room was empty except for him.

"I wasn't looking. I wasn't watching him, like I promised you I always would! Help me find him, Ada."

Elladan, you are not a babe any more. You have to let me go.

That hurt. Why was his Ada hurting him?

I think your brother just wanted to play somewhere else. But, dear one, you must wake up now. Remember Arwen? Remember Estel? They need you awake, Elladan.

"But what about Elrohir? I cannot be without him!"

Some things are beyond even my control, ion-nin. But this I can still do…

Warm, familiar hands wrapped around him. He laughed out loud, because he had missed those hands, had missed the knowledge that as long as he was in those hands, everything would be all right again. He caught a glimpse of a face, half-vision and half-memory, laughing with him as he was borne, up and up, strong hands supporting him, never letting him fall. Remember this, little one? He was dipped down; he knew what was coming next, because Ada always did it to make him laugh. And laugh he did, and his Ada laughed even harder. A gust of air, and he was up, up, up. The hands let go of him, but that was all right, because he was flying! He was soaring over the clouds, free as an Eagle. Any moment now the hands will catch him again…

Let us go, Elladan. Let us go.

But he was alone.

Her hands shook as she fastened the pin that held her cloak together at the neck. She could feel the impatience, the fear, the excitement radiating like heat from the graceful figure next to her.

Had Éowyn looked at her companion at that moment, she would have see a momentary flicker of doubt, a brief surfacing of the Queen, realising fully what she was about to do. She would have seen the hesitation, the look of horror. Had she been paying attention, Éowyn would have witnessed Arwen, daughter of Elrond, finally surrender to her heart and abandon the wisdom of centuries. Perhaps it would have been a comfort to Arwen then to know that it was yet another step towards her chosen fate.

But the Lady of Ithilien was adrift in her own mind. She knew that with every movement towards departure, she was surrendering to the shieldmaiden inside, abandoning the composed, thoughtful product of the last six years. But she was powerless, the years of suppressing her own anxieties out of love for the men in her life culminating in the sweeping away of all rational thought. At that moment, in the darkness of the night, all that mattered was her Faramir, and her need to be with him. Even in death, she would be with him. The re-awoken fire in her being could accept nothing less.

"Are you ready to go, Arwen?" she asked, her voice sounding incredibly loud to her own ears. If the daughter of Elrond noticed the absence of titles in Éowyn's address, she did not acknowledge it. We go now, said Éowyn's mind, against our laws and all wise counsel.

But did not Mithrandir advise her, that first time she saw him at the great hall of Meduseld, "You are as free as one of the Mearas, shieldmaiden of the Mark. And see, how none dare take bridle and saddle to one of that kin against its will." Those words had echoed through her mind when she had gone against her uncle's orders during the War, and now they propelled her blood and hardened her will.

Deep in their own thoughts, the two women bridled and mounted their horses mechanically, speaking little. They moved quickly, for at any moment a Guard or stableboy might come upon them and bar their departure. Éowyn was surprised that none came, in fact, for to her knowledge there were always people on duty at the stables. Then, with nothing more than an acknowledging nod towards each other, two shadows passed through the streets of Gondor and out into the unknown darkness.

Éomer managed to swallow his third slice of toast before suddenly standing up. The harsh scraping of his chair against the floor made all the men of his éored look up at him, but he ignored them and stormed out of the mess hall, his dark expression mirroring the suspicion growing in his mind. Swift feet brought him out of the Citadel and down to the stables in the sixth circle.

As he passed through the main entrance he already knew his suspicions were true. For some reason there was not a soul in the stables. it was the perfect time for… He froze outside the empty stables. A sardonic part of his brain commented that, in all the confusion and mystery of the past two days, at least his sister was consistent

He frowned, examining the thought. Though the suspicion had been forming in his mind ever since he encountered his sister in the hallway, he still found himself unable to fully comprehend the magnitude of what Éowyn had done. It was an annoyance when they were young, nearly an act of treason during the War, but this…

It was easier to think of his sister, however, than even begin to consider Arwen. Gondor now stands without a King and Queen, he whispered in his mind. What foolishness is this, Éowyn? What have you done?

It was so characteristically a deed of Éowyn, yet Éomer couldn't bring himself to believe that his sister had convinced the Queen of the Reunited Kingdoms to abandon the City on some desperate, foolish fancy. He would not have believed it of Éowyn even when she was at her most stubborn (her most 'man-ish', as Théodred had onced teased), and he certainly would not have believed it of the wife of Faramir. He had seen the change that her marriage to Faramir had made on his sister. She was no less spirited, no less stubborn (he would have thought less of Faramir if she had become so); no, she had simply matured, had learned to wield her own stubbornness and guile like a master swordsman would a second blade. He imagined that she was even more dangerous now, and able in both the field and the court. Plus, no force in the world could have forced Arwen to do something she did not want to.

Yet it was just as unlikely that the Gondorian Queen had proposed the deed. Well, in this case he wasn't as certain, not knowing the daughter of Elrond as well as he did his sister, but such a noble and wise lady should have known better…

Nothing makes sense anymore; there is no longer any certainty in anything.

Had some external part convinced them to ride out? Their goal was not very difficult to determine, and was nonetheless the same as his: to search for the missing King and Steward. Alas that the King and the Steward had to have wives as strong-spirited as they are, he thought to himself with a mixture of irritation and affection.

But what were they to do? The Advisors would surely demand answers he did not know how to give. And could he still ride out with his éored, with the City leaderless and perhaps facing an unknown peril in the dark? But what could he do? Would anyone here follow the King of Rohan? Instead of returning to his men, Éomer turned towards the stairs and headed for the bedrooms. Earlier Éowyn had told him that Elladan had succumbed to some "Elvish malady".

He saw that a serving-woman was delivering a basin and towels to a room ahead, and caught a glimpse of an Elven face. Legolas' brother, Derinsul.

"My Lord Derinsul!" he called to the Elf. "Know you which rooms are Lord Elladan's?"

Derinsul nodded, and opened the door wider. "Aye, this is it. Come in."

Surprised at the warmth that was Derinsul's tone- the Elf had so far been cool and distant with Éomer- the King of Rohan entered. He inhaled sharply when he saw the pale figure on the bed. "By Eorl, what has happened to him?"

Derinsul went to sit on the chair next to the bed, setting the basin of water on the floor and the towels on the side table. With uncharacteristic gentleness the Crown Prince of Mirkwood wet one towel and placed it on Elladan's brow. "The Master Dwarf told us that Lord Elladan felt the death of his twin. I do not know how he knew, and he would say no more, but I feel that he is correct." Eyes disconcertingly like Legolas' gazed at Éomer, who stubbornly resisted the urge to look away. "Lord Elladan is dying, King Éomer. I can feel his féa fading, weakening. He is in what Men would call a coma, though it is slightly different for Elves. His body is in turmoil; his temperature suddenly rose a few minutes ago, and sometimes a minor muscle would spasm. Were you looking for him to learn of his condition?"

Éomer sighed. "That also, but mainly it is because I fear I have little better tidings. It is fortunate that I found you, Lord Derinsul, seeing as Lord Elladan will not be able to help me."

"What is it?" asked Derinsul. "Tell me, and I will do my best, though it worries me that we can have so many dark tidings in one night."

Still getting used to the Elf's new character, Éomer told Derinsul of Éowyn and Arwen's departure, including the encounter in the hallway and his speculations on what made them leave the City at a time when the people of Gondor needed to see a strong leader. By the end Derinsul was frowning. "And the people of Minas Tirith have not even been told of their King's disappearance," he said. "News of the absence of both the King and Queen in the Citadel could send the City into chaos, and give boldness to Gondor's enemies."

"The secret can be kept from the City," Éomer said. "But not from the Citadel. The servants and Guards here are loyal to the King, or in his absence, the Steward. "

"But both the Steward and his wife are also missing. Who is next?"

"I believe that the written procedure is for the Advisors to elect a leader amongst themselves."

Derinsul frowned even as he wiped Elladan's arms with another towel. "What about in times of war? Who would be next if the King and Steward were to fall in the battlefield, and there is no time for an Advisors' council?"

Éomer blinked. "The highest-ranking Captain amongst the Guard and the various Companies, I suppose. As I've always dealt directly with King Elessar, I never had occasion to learn the names of the Captains. I know that Beregond is the Captain of the White Company in Ithilien, but I doubt he'll be willing to leave Emyn Arnen unless Faramir and Éowyn told him to. That man obeys every command to the letter, though I daresay he has reason enough."

"I have heard the story, and I know he is thought of highly in Gondor. But his loyalty hinders our purposes now." Derinsul replaced the dry towel with a new wet one. "If we can produce a temporary leader who is trusted and respected in the City, the Advisors can be convinced to remain silent for a time, for the good of Minas Tirith. I have seen them enough to know that they want a peaceful City as much as we do."

Éomer thought about this, and nodded. "It will buy us time, at least, to search for Aragorn and Faramir, not to mention Queen Arwen and my sister." He moved to leave the room. "Time is short; I might have to let one of my captains lead the éored if they are to depart before dawn, though I have more reason than ever to go myself, with my sister out there also. I will go and ask around for our leader."

He stopped at the door, his back turned to Derinsul. The Elf had not responded to his words, and when he slowly turned around, he saw why.

Dark, storm-grey eyes regarded him. The voice that spoke was hoarse, but clear and strong.

"The people will trust the brother of the King and Queen." Lethargically but with determination, Elladan pushed himself up to a sitting position. The half-Elf ignored for the moment the gaping Derinsul beside him, and did the Gondorian military salute, bowing his head with a clenched fist to his breast. "The people will trust the Captain of the Guard of this Citadel."

Am I awake?

He came into what he hoped was awareness with a strange sensation. His throat hurt, there was a ringing in his ears, and his skin felt sticky.

For a moment he remembered the glass shards, glittering like tiny stars as they pierced through his skin. Fear stabbed through him; what if he was covered in blood? If he looked down, would he see himself covered in blood? Would he discover that he was dying, bleeding to death out of a thousand little cuts with little stars embedded in them, penetrating his internal organs. Perhaps they are so deep that they are bleeding out my very soul.

"Ai, he has been touched!" He was hearing voices! Voices of the dead! He knew that this unfamiliar voice came from the dead, sure as he knew that he was dying.

Dying? Legolas frowned. Surely such a notion should illicit some sort of emotional response? But he felt… nothing. He almost smiled. He… remembered…. being so afraid of death, so unwilling to die.

"Legolas?" Another voice, but this one did not come from the dead. Relief. "His eyes are moving; he is awake. Why does he not respond?"

With great difficulty, Legolas managed to turn his head towards the direction of the voice. It was like moving a block of stone. Through a red mist he saw a vague shape. Was it a person? The shape looked very familiar, yet its identity evaded his mind.

"It is no wonder, for the poison of the ancient Shadow is in his veins; moreover, he has been touched by… by the one whom I told you of." There it was again, the voice of the dead! Had the dead come among the living whilst he slept?

The shape leaned in, and deep brown eyes met Legolas'. He blinked. He knew those eyes… he had likened them to caves, once. Yes. The figure started to move away, but Legolas lifted a hand and touched him on the shoulder, stopping him. He was safe with this person; this knowledge resonated in his very bones. As long as he could see those eyes, he was safe.

"Legolas?" The figure spoke to him. "Legolas, do you know who I am?"

He nodded once. More movement required strength his body did not have. He sensed that the figure wanted something from him, wanted him to say something. He opened his mouth- and no sound came out. He blinked. He inhaled deeply, and tried again. This time he barely heard a rasping squeak through the ringing in his ears. Fearful that the figure would go away if he did not say something, Legolas took as deep a breath as he could, and said the first things he could think of saying.

"I am dead," he forced out. His voice was hardly more than a whisper, but the effort left his heart pounding and his mouth dry. Yet the words he had uttered hung in the air, and he realised the truth of them. He was dead. He remembered dying, once, and then again. He remembered claws tearing into him, numbing cold lancing through his body, the flash of light as his fea was separated from his body. But he had also remembered dying before; in the dark, jaws with burning saliva closing around his throat. Was it possible? How can one die twice?

"What is he talking about?" the figure demanded, but not of him. The eyes moved away, and Legolas let out a whimper.

"He needs you close, Gimli Elf-friend. He recognises you, though he may not remember your name." Gimli. Yes, that was the name. Legolas was puzzled. Did Gimli not know he was speaking to a voice of the dead? Or was his friend dead as well? Maybe we died together. The thought made him smile; he wouldn't be alone, then.

But no, he could see the eyes again, and they were alive. Legolas realised that without the veil of life his senses picked up a lot of things he had never noticed before. His eyes saw the fire of the Dwarf's soul, like living gold; his nose detected warm earth and cool caverns; his ears heard the echo of Aul's hammer in the Dwarf's heartbeat. He wondered what his own eyes looked like.

"What is wrong with him?" Gimli whispered.

For several heartbeats there was no response. "If you did not believe the tale I told you, Master Dwarf, then you can see a part of it now." A pause. Legolas wondered if they were talking about him. "So much has been forgotten from those earlier days. The horrors, the wonders; the victories, the failures. Most now know only of words on a page, for those few who still remember strive to forget. Yes, there were wonders then, the secrets of which have been lost through the centuries. Those were the days of the mighty lords of legend, the likes of whom will never be seen on this world again! But the darkness in those days was much greater also. The nights were darker, the Shadow so much stronger. Monsters prowled the dark woods, unseen creatures haunted places unprotected by the light of the Eldar. Morgoth took delight in creating new monstrosities, so we never knew what was going to leap out of the darkness. Whilst I mourn the loss of the splendors of our springtime, if that was the price to pay for the defeat of the Shadow and the destruction of those nightmares, it was a bargain well-made.

"Yet through some dark art of Sauron a few of those foul creatures from his master's breeding pools have survived. Look at your friend- he bears symptoms I have seen many times before. Profuse sweating from a full-blooded Elf? His muscles are extremely tense- I don't think he has full control over them. But most telling of all- which you must have noticed though you may not have wanted to admit it- the light of madness is in his eyes."

"Madness?" Legolas felt a rough, callused hand grasp his own.

"If it is any comfort, the real person is still in there, looking out. But the poison is destroying his body, confusing his thoughts, bewitching his senses."

"Is there a cure?" The hand was trembling now. Not sure why, but sensing that Gimli was in some sort of pain, Legolas concentrated and managed to return some semblance of a grip.

"A cure?" Legolas shivered. Gimli should not be talking to one of the dead. Why won't the dead leave the living be? But… he was dead. He was dead yet he clutched on to Gimli's warm, blood-filled hands like a newborn babe to its mother. "If it was only the poison, perhaps, but…"

Gimli's eyes left him, but the Dwarf's grip remained tight on his hand. "You said he has been touched by one of the Elves you told me about in your tale. Earlier, when he awoke for the first time after we rescued him, Elladan said a curious thing. I had fallen asleep next to Legolas and we shared a strange dream. Whilst we slept Elladan and Derinsul discovered, using their elven healing abilities, that our minds and souls departed from our bodies."

"Ah, worry not overmuch about that, Master Gimli. You are not the only ones to have had such a thing occur over the last week. I have told you about the Mirrors. The barrier to the Mirrors has been weakening ever since the fall of Barad-dur; The Mirrors themselves were created by Morgoth alone, yet with his fall and the loss of his dark realm the Mirrors were unstable. Thinking he could somehow use it for his own perverse purposes, Sauron salvaged the Mirrors and placed them deep beneath Mordor. Yet he lacked the power to control something not entirely of his own making, and in the end he placed a barrier of power around it to prevent the… things… within it escaping.

"The weakening of the barriers means that some of the… creatures… inside have begun to escape. That is why a creature out of the First Age managed to attack your friend. But as Sauron realised that he did not know enough about the Mirrors to use it or destroy it, he made a barrier that went both ways: it stopped… things… from coming out and coming in. The very nature of the Mirrors, Gimli, is to draw the fëa to it. Some Elves believe that your fëa is the least connected with your body during the dream state of sleep."

The eyes returned to him. "So, when we have those dreams, we are actually in the Mirrors?"

"Yes, in a sense. Be mindful of its name, Gimli. The soul does not see the way the eyes do. That you saw a place that really exists inside those enormous caverns suggests that the Mirrors exist in two worlds: the realms of the Seen and Unseen. The two may be the same, mere parallels of each other, yet does your reflection in the mirror have the same senses you do?"

"All this seems to be just a lot of mind-tricks!"

"Mind-tricks, truly. But 'just'? Do not underestimate the power of the mind and soul, Gimli son of Gloin. And to return to our original concern… Legolas has indeed been marked by the… the fallen one. The betrayer. The horror is still in your friend's eyes, if you knew where to look. It is curious that the… the abomination had chosen to approach your friend. Why him, and not the older brother? Or she with the light of the Evenstar upon her face?"

"What would this Elf want with Legolas?"

"I do not know, though I have some suspicions."

"Will you speak of them?"

"Nay, not until I am more sure. But be wary, Gimli, and do not let Legolas drift back into a dreaming sleep. I fear what prolonged contact with that betrayer would do to him."

A gust of hot air hit Legolas' face as Gimli exhaled in frustration. "You have explained many things to me, my Lord, yet I am more confused than I was at the beginning!"

The dead one gave a merry laugh. The sound of it irritated Legolas. What right did the dead have to be joyful? "That is the path to wisdom, or so the Elves believe. By listening and considering to all that I have said, you show a greater patience than most mortals have for the more obscure branches of old lore. And you will understand it all, 'ere the end." The voice became sad. "Then you will see why understanding is not such a great thing after all."

Author's Notes:

Taking quite a bit of risk here, with a lot of things, and I hope I haven't lost anyone. I did quite a lot of reading for this scene, yet knowing me I'd probably missed the crucial information. If anyone has any major objections to the events in this scene, please tell me. I try my best, but I always tend towards the overdramatic.

Reviewers' Response:

wellduh- Thank you, I've gotten very fond of Éowyn whilst writing this fic, and I hope to develop her character further. The confusion is part of the experience winks And I'm actually looking forward to bringing all these plotlines together, because right now I'm getting a headache keeping track of all of them! And thanks for the 100th review! huggles

e- pokes is this better? I understand, I'm a terribly bad updater. I do try, but I write slow, and beta-read even slower. Thanks for still being here!

Carrie S- Thank you very much! And don't worry, the next few chapters should be focused on Aragorn and Faramir now that I've sorted out some things in Minas Tirith. (Note that the story is moving their direction winks)

Enigma Jade- Thank you! It always encourages me to see new readers!

Lisette- As you can see, I'm going to be quite mean to Legolas through this fic, so stay tuned! PTD is actually a great favourite of mine, and Maggie is an inspiration, so at some points I have to step back and see if anything resembles that wonderful piece of fiction too much. I've added your request to see more Aragorn/Faramir with all the others (see above :-P ), they should appear in the next one. Thank you so much for your kind words!

rynkang- Thank you! See, this is somewhat speedier than before, so you guys obviously have an affect grins

Lirenel- That's good! Hope you're still reading!

Cosmic Castaway- I love unpredictability also. Thanks for your enthusiasim, despite the pain-threat, and I probably deserve some severe poking with that finger of yours for taking so long.hugs

ziggy- The characters of Arwen and Eowyn seem to have a life of their own! This portrayal of them was certainly not what I had in mind at the start of the story, but I guess writing unpredictable fanfic means that the author does not have much more of a clue as to what happens next as you readers. Thanks, and hope you're still reading!

Silver Wolf- Very interesting theory you have there gleam in eye Unfortunately you'll have to wait to see if it's correct. LOL at the line. I've come to refer to the Silmarillion a lot in this, though it is by no means an easy read (took me three months the first time round). You do need to have to have read it to guess, I think. But one enver knows; I drop clues all the time, though perhaps it's only after the mystery elf is revealed that you'll see it. Thank you!

Calanare Sairavanie- Thanks, I have to admit that I never intended on exploring the subject until I began writing the garden scene. Then it sort of moulded itself like a luminescent green plot-bunny. blushes I hope you're right, though I can completely understand it if people forget this story, considering how long I've taken.

littlefish- Did you know that Mandos is actually going to do a cameo in this? Sorry, had to mention it. blush I'll try my best with the elvies, though I can't promise anything wink Still in the middle of RJ's "Winter's Heart"; have been somewhat engrossed with school in the past few months. Thanks very much, o writer extraordinaire! glomps

unplugged32- Chris! An even greater sorry from me for taking so long to update. Thanks for your kind words, you have certainly been a loyal reader for a while. Hopefully you're still here!

Cloud-123- I love him too, and to be honest I'm not sure how he'll end up. But I can assure you that there will be considerable angst 'ere the end.