Author's note

Hello again! I know this post is a bit early, but I couldn't resist. Thanks for the comments! I think I will aim for a once per week update. A note of caution- this story has many plot twists and is sometimes dependent on the reader's confusion, so if it seems that things are not exactly making sense, have no fear, all will be revealed in the end. Having said that, let's get on with the adventure…

-Athena

Two

"Still no word?"

"I am sorry, my friend," came the hesitant reply.

It had been four days since their last meeting, four days since he had stood in Imladris and set out on this task. The Elvin horse had been swift and he had made good time in arriving at the court of the Silvan King Thranduil. He remained now in Mirkwood. The beautiful city was built beneath the northeastern floor of the Great Forest now known as Mirkwood. It had been necessary to escape the evil that Sauron had unleashed at Dol Guldur but had resulted in a very isolated and distrustful people. Aragorn stood above the city now, anxiously awaiting word from his brothers. They should have arrived yesterday and it was not like them to be tardy without justification. As the hours passed, his frustration and fears grew. Aragorn clenched his fist tightly at his side. "I fear for them, Legolas. First Gandalf and now Elladan and Elrohir."

The prince stood silently by the man's side, lost in his own thoughts. They stood on the veranda just above the great underground hall. The trees crowned with leaves sighed deeply in a growing wind. Aragorn, out of the corner of his eye, marveled at the peaceful expression that played across the prince's features. Legolas had closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as if catching the crest of a receding wave. It seemed that time itself had slowed to accommodate the feeling of idleness that had invaded Aragorn's spirit. "What do they say?" He ventured, speaking softly as not to disturb the Elf's concentration.

After a moment more of silence, Legolas at last spoke. "They too search for Mithrandir. The trees whisper his name, but they know not where he has gone."

"There is darkness at work, of that I have no doubt, but it is a greater darkness than I had imagined. I cannot linger here any longer." The ranger turned to Legolas resolutely. "Thank you for your hospitality, my friend. I will take my leave of your father at once and head south to Lamias in the Firien Wood."

"You would go to Lamias before Lorien?" Legolas questioned. He had heard rumors that the Whispering Wood, as it was also known, had once again sheltered an Elvin kingdom. He knew next to nothing about Lamias itself, only that they had vanished for centuries only to now, very recently by elfish reckoning, reappear just in time to witness Sauron's awakening.

Aragorn met his gaze with gentle green eyes, and then averted his eyes to look outward on the forest. "I worry for both of them, but I am unfamiliar with the peoples of Lamias and my heart, or my instinct, draws me to find Elrohir. I can explain it in no other way. If I stop in Lorien, much time will be lost…"

Legolas nodded, then smiled mischievously. "We will send word to Lord Elrond alerting him to the situation before our departure."

Aragorn arched an eyebrow. "We?"

"Of course, mortal. Do you expect me to bide my time here while my friends face great danger?"

At this, the man smiled sincerely. He remembered fondly his first meeting with the prince; it had not been a pleasant one. The elves of Mirkwood were wary of outsiders in general and especially did not take kindly to the idea of an Elf Lord, be it Elrond or otherwise, fostering a mortal child. It was a strange thing for a man to be raised as an elf. When they had first met, Legolas had been far from hospitable and Aragorn doubted that they would ever be civil let alone friends. But much had changed since then. Countless adventures later, a bond had solidified between the two and Aragorn knew that he would not prefer any other to ride beside him into light or darkness. He trusted Legolas deeply, as deeply as his own brothers, and knew that the trust was returned. "In truth, Legolas, I knew you could not resist. I would be honored to have you by my side." He extended his arm forwards and Legolas took it in friendship.

"We will find them, Estel."

King Thranduil had not been pleased when Legolas had informed him of their present mission. He had not been displeased either. He feared for the safety of his youngest son, but knew well that he would be needed as not only a valuable warrior for Light, but to represent the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood at the council that Lord Elrond would call. For these reasons, he consented with his blessing as the two prepared to leave.

He had given them all they would need, ensured that they had food for weeks of journey as well as other provisions.

They stood now, together on the terrace for a final farewell. The King spoke in a deep voice, "A messenger has been sent to Rivendell bearing word of these recent events. Another has been sent to Lorien to inquire after the young prince. I do not trust news of such high importance to be carried by any other than my personal guards."

"Thank you, my Lord." Aragorn replied, with a slight bow as a show of respect.

"May the Valar bless you and grant you success in this grave quest. For if Mithrandir is truly lost to darkness, our situation has become dire indeed."

Having said all that needed to be said, the two companions made their way to their mounts and trotted down the path that promised to lead them from the dense forest to its most southern border. They rode in silence for some time, hours, traveling at a maddening pace. The horses were well rested and had been prepped for the urgency of this task. They were prepared to go a day without rest if need be and Aragorn was glad for it. He felt helpless and uncertain. He hated the feeling, hated not having control over the situation. They continued to ride, squeezing firmly at the heels and holding tightly to the reigns. If they kept this pace and stopped only long enough to water the horses, they would arrive within two days.

The terrain was dense and green; life whirled past them as they rode on. Legolas gazed warily at Dol Guldur in the distance, visible only to his keen Elvin eyes. There was great evil in that place, evil that had driven his people to the most northeastern regions of the fair wood that was his home. Nothing about this situation seemed right. His own concern matched Aragorn's worry for his brothers and for Gandalf. Their road to the Firien Wood could not be considered scenic and instead was as dark as they come. He knew not what dangers lie in the future, what wars would come of this forgotten Ring and dark prophecy, but he did know that it had begun.

As the light began to fade and the sun to set, hopes of maintaining their pace were dashed. With the rolling night came rolling thunder, alerting the two companions to a coming storm which gave no apparent care for their needs of good travel conditions.

Legolas pulled his horse to a momentary halt. He gazed upward at the sky in disdain. "A storm approaches rapidly," he spoke, motioning to the graying sky and dramatic cloud formations. The horses were restless, sensing the shift in weather and the impending difficulties a tempestuous rain would bring. They had stopped at the very edge of the forest, before them lay open plains that marked the territory just north of Rohan. They had reached the blighted Brown Lands.

Aragorn frowned. "We will find shelter and attempt to wait it out. A few hours and we will fly, storm or not."

"Agreed," Legolas murmured absently, still in thought. He continued after a moment, shaking his head slightly. "It is half a night's hard ride to the Eastern Shore of the Anduin from this place. I would feel better if we could reach the river, I like not these plains. They are ruined and death looms here like a shadow. We will be quite vulnerable to an attack."

Again, Aragorn nodded. With increased orc activity throughout the realm, especially since Gandalf's disappearance, it would be wise to get off the plains. The Brown Lands were damned, destroyed by Sauron. They were now a phantasm of the past, a reminder of the Entwives and of the great suffering that had occurred in the first war of Sauron's One Ring. The Dunedain had made it policy to avoid this region unless unavoidably necessary. Aragorn knew that this was one of those instances. He turned to Legolas, gently pulling the reigns of his horse to calm its nervous movements. "Let us ride, then, Legolas. We have need of haste."

With that they were off again, as if attempting to beat the storm itself, remaining barely a step ahead of the booming thunder and electrifying lightening. The sun had long since set when Legolas finally spoke, the horses' strides unbroken. "Aragorn! I can see the bank, it is not far now!"

And suddenly Aragorn saw it too, at a distance but visible to his eye at least. The dense trees of the banks were in sharp and welcome contrast to the bland wasteland that was the Brown Lands. He longed to reach the foliage to take refuge in a formation of stone and rest from their weary travels. They would need one hour. He felt the drops of rain, large and full, on his neck and face. The water was shockingly cold, sending a slight shiver down his spine as the shower intensified. Hey would not stop now. He knew that Legolas was of the same mind. They would make it to the Anduin and worry about all else later.

They reached the banks drenched and tired. Legolas was the first to dismount. He led his weary steed by the reigns, surveying the green area for some means of shelter. It was well into the night now. The night was dark; the storm had swallowed all of the stars in the sky as if to forbid even the faintest beam of light from illuminating their dark way. The rain was relentless now, coming down in sheaths it flooded the ground and made earth slick deep with mud. It was not long before they found a small formation of rock, three great stones supporting a very large, flat slab. It was a sign that they had reached South Undeep and were practically at the feet of the Emyn Muil. It made for a cozy escape from the harsh weather. After securing the horses and removing the packs the two nestled into their hiding spot, praying to the Valar that in two hours time the storm would pass but knowing that they would continue on regardless.

"I am glad that you are with me, Legolas. Had it not been for the gravity of our task, I may have enjoyed this trip. Long has it been since we quested together." Aragorn's voice was soft, sincere.

Legolas managed a small smile. "Too long, my friend."

They fell silent. After an earlier dispute of who should rest first, the two resolved that they would keep watch together, since neither could bring themselves to sleep. To the north was Lorien, where Elladan had endeavored. Aragorn had made the choice to seek Elrohir first. He could not explain the pain in his heart or the fear and suspicion he felt towards the mysterious lands of Lamias. But he knew that Lothlorien was safe and that the Lady Galadriel would let no harm come to Elladan. By this time King Thranduil's guard would have reached Lorien. As they rested, Aragorn knew that bowmen from the fair Elvin city were searching for Elladan. He could not say the same for the younger twin. "Legolas, what do you know of this Lamias. In all my years in Rivendell I have studied them very little and was not aware of their continued existence until just a few years ago."

"I know little. Lamias was a great Elvin city in the Firien Wood in the ancient days, but they fell out of communion with Middle- Earth some time ago. Many had speculated that they had left to the Undying Lands, others believed that Sauron had destroyed them. I like it not that they are suddenly so interested in the affairs of Rivendell. Part of me is relieved to see that they survive, while the other-"

"Is suspicious." Aragorn finished his phrase and the elf smiled.

"Yes. Exactly. I think you chose wisely in coming after Elrohir first." Again silence. "How was it, returning to Rivendell? How fares Lord Elrond?" His tone was casual, but even Legolas could not conceal the deeper curiosity and the hidden question that he dare not ask outwardly.

Aragorn was taken by surprise by the sudden change in subject. He warmed his hands by the small fire they had constructed, feeling a sudden chill. "Difficult and wonderful at the same time." He turned to look at Legolas. "I couldn't help but be reminded of her with every step, every flower, every star. And with her memory comes the memory of my parting from Rivendell, and of Elrond's anger. Knowing that she is in Lorien lessens my worry for Elladan."

Legolas sighed sympathetically. "She is strong, Aragorn. It is her choice to make and there is nothing that you or Elrond can say to it. Let the memory of her love give you strength in these times and despair not over what the future holds." He placed a reassuring hand on Aragorn's damp shoulder. The ranger smiled in appreciation.

"Leave it to an elf to offer good advice." He smirked, a hint of sarcasm playing in his tone.

"We are known to be the wiser race," Legolas retorted before settling back against the hard rock behind him. The stone was cold and uncomfortable. For the first time since the rain had begun, the elf lowered his hood. Golden hair streamed from to his shoulder. He absently brushed it behind his ears and settled back, but did not sleep. Instead came a whisper, "Lye naa tire".

"I know," came the whispered reply, "But I know not whether it be the enemy or not. What ever tracks us has great skill in concealment. I wouldn't have known-"He stopped suddenly. "Did you hear that?"

The elf nodded, seemingly alert before Aragorn could utter the words. He had pulled his hood over his head, every muscle tensing. The sound was louder now, a rustle of leaves and brush. The untrained ear may have taken it for a rustling of wind in the tempest beyond, but nothing could escape the uncanny hearing of an elf.

He crouched low in the brush, his cloak soaked with rain but strangely resilient to the water keeping his body warm and dry within. He observed in silence, a lone pair of watchful eyes set on the dimly lit stone formation. He did not know whether they knew of his presence, he did not care.
Aragorn quickly put out the fire, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. Legolas drew his bow in one fluid motion, almost simultaneously drawing forth an arrow from his quiver. He held it menacingly, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Aragorn's hazel green spheres.

Legolas mouthed the word, barely a whisper. "Orcs-"

"How many?" came the reply. Silence as Legolas listened intently.

"I would guess twenty, probably a patrol," he replied. Suddenly his eyes widened in surprise. "Watch out!" the elf demanded, pouncing forward to push Aragorn to the ground. They tumbled to the drenched earth in time to watch the dagger fly over their heads.

Aragorn cursed inwardly. "I knew this had been too easy!" He mused, getting to his feet and drawing his sword in its entire splendor and glory.

Legolas too was on his feet, gracefully stringing his bow as the full force of the orc patrol emerged from the trees to surround them. Aragorn blinked feverishly, trying to rid his eyes of the blurring droplets of rain that relentlessly continued to fall from an angry sky. First five, then ten, more than thirty orcs emerged, snarling and growling. But they did not yet attack. Aragorn and Legolas stood ready.

"Twenty, eh? Aragorn murmured.

Legolas shrugged slightly. "We have seen worse odds," he murmured back. "What are they waiting for?"

As if in answer, the line of orcs parted slowly, down the center, as a tall figure strode towards them, emerging form the shadows. It was hideous and was reminiscent of an orc, only fowler and larger in stature. It stood a good two feet above the rest. But perhaps most shocking of all was the white emblem painted freshly across its repulsive face.

Neither Aragorn nor Legolas could stifle a gasp of shock. Aragorn raised his guard even more so. For one tense moment they stood unmoving, the demon staring directly into their souls. Then the moment was shattered.

"ATTACK!" The leader of the patrol roared, setting the entire line into motion.

The orcs came at them quickly, fiercely. Legolas let his arrows fly, dodging and ducking while keeping perfect form. He blocked an oncoming dagger with his forearm, countering with a swift knee to the orcs gut. He elbowed backwards felling another and having just enough time to swing his bow over his shoulder and draw the two Elvin daggers from their sheaths.

Aragorn was bombarded by three orcs at once. With expert precision he slashed then stabbed sending to of the three to their deaths. Dark blood seeped into the absorbent earth, mixing with the falling rain. Four more replaced the fallen two forcing him to duck and slide, using the slick ground to his advantage. He swept the orcs from their feet, then sprang up and finished them with the blade. Aragorn looked up for a space to see how his friend fared, but could not rest long. Still they came.

He was getting tired. These were difficult odds even by elf standards. Legolas again took up his bow, showering an oncoming line with silver arrows, which knew not how to miss.

Aragorn looked up from another fallen orc, eyes wide in worry. " Legolas, behind you!" came the warning.

Legolas turned in time to see the blade sailing towards him, the head orc close enough to crush him. Legolas blocked as best he could, but was forced to drop his bow. The large orc backhanded him ruthlessly and Legolas collapsed to the ground, momentarily stunned but the explosion of pain in his head and the swiftness of the blow. Had orcs always been this strong? He got quickly to his feet in time to be slashed by the dagger. The enormous orc grabbed the elf by the scruff of the neck and pulled him near, dagger poised and ready. Legolas braced for the impact, knew he could not prevent it.

But the pain did not come. A high pitched sound sung through the air as an arrow found its mark, burying itself within the orcs chest. Legolas gasped in surprise as he was suddenly released. It was not his arrow! He whirled around in time to see a figure moving through the foliage, hidden in the shadows. His gaze was ripped away from their mysterious ally by the threat at hand. The orc was not yet dead. Legolas jumped back, then drew his daggers and attacked. He sliced up, then down, black blood oozing.

It began to laugh. The sound sent shivers down his spine. Legolas stepped back in amazement and terror. "Foolish little elf. Stand now and feel the wrath of the Uruk-hai!"

Aragorn pounced, finally free from his attackers. In one graceful swoop he lunged at the orc leader and sliced cleanly, lopping off its head. The oversized orc body fell with a thud before Legolas who could only stare at Aragorn in confusion. The forty orc bodies littered the ground. None remained. They had fallen by Aragorn's sword and Elvin skill, but also by the arrows of another.

"What was that?" Legolas exclaimed, eyes fixated on the fallen body.

Aragorn shook his head in amazement, sheathing his sword. He stood beside Legolas and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I know not. But it bears the White hand of Isengard." He replied, lowering his voice.

"It referred to itself as Uruk-hai. This was no mere orc, Aragorn. There is much evil at work and if Isengard is involved- do you think they have taken Saruman the White as well?"

Aragorn turned from Legolas, shaking his head. "Given the other possibility it would be my hope. But I fear this treachery runs deeper than we know. What if Saruman has joined with Sauron?"

Legolas shivered involuntarily. He sheathed his daggers and bent to reclaim his bow from beneath a fallen body. "It is not an idea I would like to entertain," the elf mumbled. The rain had subsided somewhat. He lowered his hood and took in a deep breath. "Let us hope for the best and prepare for the worst."

Aragorn managed a small smile. "Again, I am humbled by your exceptional advice." He moved to their camp and began to assemble the packs. "In either case, we cannot linger here. I think you'll agree that we should take advantage of this break in the storm. Are you injured?"

Legolas' hand went absently to the bruise on his cheek, then the cut on his arm. "A scratch. I am fine. How fare you, Strider?" He asked, noticing for the first time the red stain at the ranger's side.

"Aye, a scratch as well. It will not hinder me. We are still a day's ride from Lamias." He handed a pack to Legolas who casually swung it over his shoulder. They made their way to the horses. "Day will break soon. We will arrive in the evening if all goes well." Aragorn was saying, but Legolas was not entirely listening. There was one mystery left unresolved from their recent battle, one missing piece to the puzzle.

As they readied to mount, Legolas took hold of Aragorn's arm. "Those were not my arrows," he whispered.

"I know. He is the one who has been tracking us. At least we know now that he is not with the enemy. We cannot worry about it now." With that Aragorn mounted. Legolas followed suit.

"Still, something is amiss." He murmured. With that they were off once again, heading south beside the Anduin to Eastfold which would lead them to the Firien Wood.

Translations:

Lye naa tire We are being watched