Author's Note:

Wowzer…two weeks since my last update. My apologies. I hope that this chapter makes up for it. THANK YOU SO MUCH to lindahoyland, Neniel Sildurien and mbali (my new reviewers) and to everyone else who reviewed before. I cannot express how helpful and encouraging the feedback has been. Yay, 20 reviews! Woo hoo!

Thank you also to all of you who are reading and do not review. I am just happy to know that people out there are finding the story enjoyable enough to keep up with.

Finally, thank you to my wonderful beta reader Viggomaniac whose keen eye adds the polishing touch to chapter seven which I now present to you for your enjoyment.

If you have a moment, I would love to know what you think thus far as the plot thickens…;)

-Athena

Seven

Elrohir watched with unwavering eyes as Legolas swiftly flew through the green shrubs and foliage, soon to vanish beneath the cover of forest and coming night. Had he known about Legolas' condition and the unknown poison which slowly infiltrated the prince's blood, he would surely have protested this course of action. But things being as they were, a slight wave of relief settled his abnormally frayed nerves, and he was confident that if anyone could rescue his brother it would be Legolas.

It will do me no good to worry about such things now, one task at a time, the voice in his mind scolded lividly. Grasping tightly to the reins of the two horses, he leaned heavily on a tree, jaw clenched against the throbbing pain of his leg. It had already begun to heal, as was the blessing of his race, but not nearly quickly enough to satisfy Elrohir. Patience was a virtue that, like most elves, Elrohir had mastered. However, helplessness and frustration were emotions not so easily dealt with. The bones had been set and secured in a makeshift splint consisting of a plank of stray wood and ample bandages wound very tightly around his lower leg. He could bend the knee, but not with ease. He gingerly took a step forward, testing its strength and his tolerance.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Elrohir drew in a deep breath and with it the strength of the Valar.

Leaves crunched softly.

A marked change in the wind…he was not alone-

In his weakened haze Elrohir forced the clouds from his cluttered mind, his luminous eyes darting attentively to pinpoint the newcomer's position. He was barely detectable, this intruder, almost as though he moved with the skill of an.

In the next moment, he spun around just as - "ELROHIR!" Elrohir grasped the assailant tightly by the arm, his elvish knife poised with deadly precision, aimed mere centimeters from an exposed throat which now tightened with shock and surprise, uttering a cry that Elrohir had not expected. He blinked once, wide-eyed in surprise, as he gazed into features that mirrored his own. Relaxing his grip fractionally, he gasped. An enormous grin brightened features that had become accustomed to the sorrowful scowl he had adopted since he had learned of Mithrandir's disappearance.

"Elladan?"

He breathed, the response sounding weaker than he had intended as the momentary adrenaline rush faded as quickly as it had arisen. The dagger dropped absently from his grasp, lost in the heavy embrace of his brother -- Elrohir nearly falling forward in relief, Elladan nearly crushing him with the conviction in his supportive arms.

"Elladan! Where have you been? When Legolas told me of your disappearance I feared the worst, especially after the treachery of Lamias. Are you alright?"

They separated slightly, Elrohir sternly looking his brother over from head to foot. Neither could contain their happiness in the unexpected reunion.

"I am in one piece at least, brother. And in better condition than you it would seem."

His smile faded, losing its glee and he clasped Elrohir's shoulder reassuringly.

"Tell me, what has happened here? I was delayed on my way to Lorien and when I arrived in Mirkwood, King Thranduil informed me that my youngest brother as well as Legolas, had set off in search of you towards the Firien Forrest in the ancient haven of Lamias. I left immediately, suspecting that trouble had claimed the three of you, or rather more accurately, a reversal of my fear as is usually the case," Elladan breathlessly explained. He eyed the injured leg and noted the hastily applied bandage which by now was red with blood.

A rush of relief washed over Elrohir as his brother finished his tale. The knowledge that Elladan was safe and by his side seemed to renew the hope and optimism that days of imprisonment had dimmed but not destroyed. He paused, arching an eyebrow in consideration of the new information.

"For once, Elladan, you are right. It seems Mithrandir's disappearance is linked to an evil darker than father had suspected." He closed his eyes, his somber mood returning as gray rain clouds settle on a weathered mountain. Elladan was safe and standing before him; at least Iluvatar had answered one prayer. The four of them together, reunited seemed to infuse a new energy within Elrohir. And the knowledge that he was no longer alone in his task gave him further strength.

He opened his eyes again, eyes livid in anger as the words flowed from his lips.

"Saruman the White has joined forces with the dark Lord of Mordor, rising in the land of shadow as we dally. With Saruman, King Elimerel himself has joined the evil one, claiming the glory of the elves is restored rather than diminished. I came here bearing our father's message and overheard such scheming while retiring to my quarters. "They detained me," he paused, shifting uncomfortably as he was suddenly reminded of the unpleasant experience, "I know not how long.

"Had it not been for Estel and Legolas, I may have died there, forgotten and in despair. In our attempt to escape, Estel was taken." He leaned back against the tree, annoyed by his own weakness. "It is good to see you, brother, but we cannot linger here. Time is cut short by need. As I could not go, Legolas has entered the camp to free Estel. We must take the horses to the northern gate and be ready for their escape."

"Then let us not waste what time we have. Can you ride, Elrohir?" Elladan replied, rising swiftly to his feet before helping his twin to stand. It pained him to see Elrohir in such a state, the cuts and prominent bruises visible on his face, the tattered bloodstains on his tunic and bandaged leg.

"Yes," came the reply. To Elladan's amazement Elrohir pulled himself into the saddle and with carefully concealed difficulty, managed to situate himself on Estel's patient horse. "Are you coming then?" His teasing words cast some light on the shadowed mood that had fallen between them.

Wordlessly, Elladan mounted his own horse and pulled Legolas' by the reins. He turned to secure the riderless horse firmly to his own and then squeezed lightly to a trot, stopping beside his brother. "Lead the way."

He kept to the shadows, strong arms grasping the unresponsive form, wrapped within his own cloak, tightly to his chest. The elf moved with as much swiftness and grace as he could muster. The burden he carried was heavy, both physically and emotionally. The ranger had not responded to Legolas' attempts to rouse him and the heat from his brow was worrisome. Legolas had never seen his friend in such a state and it was, in a way, shocking. Though the wounds were not fatal, Legolas knew that the torture had been extreme and the blood loss severe. And then there was the carving- the elf shivered, preferring not to think of it for the moment. Legolas, who considered Estel to be more elf than human, was suddenly aware of a concept which was all too foreign to his understanding - mortality.

"Please stay with me." He whispered as he moved.

There were so many questions to be answered, so many riddles to be solved. Now, as he made his way to the elusive northern gate, he could not keep his mind from wandering and its vain attempts to restore order to the chaos that had claimed his thoughts since they had arrived in Lamias. Where was Mithrandir? How could King Elimerel have become so corrupt? An elven king! He thought of his father just then, and regretted it as his worries increased. And Saruman the White, allied with Sauron in search of the One ring. Why would Elimerel join with Sauron? Surely he must know that Sauron does not share! It did not fit. It was all too much to absorb at once. In the wake of Mithrandir's absence, the world had turned upside down. Legolas had a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning of a long struggle yet to come. Perhaps the time had finally come, the foreseen darkness that only Aragorn could ultimately conquer.

He chanced a glance at the unconscious man in his arms. Then suddenly, the ground seemed to rush towards him and he felt as if the world was spinning about him. As he neared the outskirts of the great hall, he slowed his stride. Valar, please don't let me fall, not now! Lacking his usual grace, the ailing elf managed to duck undetected, behind a large tree. As gently as possible, Legolas lowered the ranger to the ground on his side to avoid further injury to the man's back. He sat there for a moment, eyes closed, breathing heavily as the strange feeling passed. It seemed that the spells were steadily worsening as the drug made its way through his system. Finally, he opened his eyes, relieved to find the ground precisely where it should be, beneath him. He leaned forward, gently feeling his friend's flushed cheek. He had cleaned the wounds as best he could given the small amount of water in his skin. It was the loss of blood and risk of infection which worried him, but nothing could be done about it now. The elf got to his feet and peered noiselessly into the night. The gate was in the sight of elven eyes now, standing just in the distance. Ten more minutes and he would be there.

"Legolas…help me to stand."

The elvish whisper, barely audible, startled the frazzled elf. He was not accustomed to being startled, or frazzled for that matter, but Legolas had not felt like himself since they had arrived in Lamias and even as he tended to his wounded friend, searching for the injuries not easily detected, he felt his consciousness pulled towards darkness. The stern request shook him free of his dismal thoughts. What is happening to me? I cannot move without trembling…

His eyes softened in concern as he met the clouded grey spheres of the fallen ranger, noting the dimmed contrast to their former silver brilliance. He managed a small smile, relieved to find Aragorn regaining consciousness and with it, his wits. "Lazy edan," he chided lightly. "I was afraid I would have to carry both you and your brother to Lord Elrond," he whispered. Though he smiled, the laughter did not reach his eyes.

Aragorn's throat contracted, as if he was preparing to speak, yet he said nothing. His mind desperately tried to sort out the situation, to separate reality from hallucination. Where was Arwen? What had in actuality been moments seemed as though eons of utter chaos long since passed, but not forgotten. He gazed dazedly at his closest friend, wondering how long Legolas had been at his side. He could not remember the elf's arrival.a small groan escaped his lips as he tried to move. A bad decision. Valar it hurt! The pain was everywhere at once, a fiery sensation consumed his back, but more stifling was the sharp agony between his shoulder blades. Feeling slightly more daring, he ventured a look around and found that he and Legolas were hidden in the shadow of a large tree. Oh yes, he remembered, black bark, of the trees of Lamias. He shifted, as if preparing to stand. "I…would not give you the satisfaction...mellon nin," came the delayed reply.

Legolas knelt to help him, offering as strong an arm as he could muster. The elf tried desperately to conceal his trembling limbs. It was not the weight -- Valar! Elves could hold at least twice as much of a burden. Then what is it?

Aragorn took the extended arm, using it to pull himself to his knees and then, with the elf's added aid, to his feet. Legolas could feel the edan slacken at his side, trying valiantly to support more of his own weight, but failing miserably. His head hung low for a moment, resting on Legolas' shoulder, but only for a moment. To Legolas' amazement and relief, the man steadied himself. The ranger's retort had heartened him, and he could see that Aragorn, while bruised, was not broken.

Aragorn opened his eyes fixing dilated, half focused spheres on the cool blue orbs of his elvish friend. Legolas could not conceal his weakness from his friend's searching glance. "You are not well Legolas, I can see it in your eyes. We must get to my herbs." Legolas felt the weight shift as his burden was lifted. Aragorn stood shakily beside him, but he stood.

"Speak for yourself." Legolas mumbled, half to himself, annoyed by his own malady. He offered his shoulder to the man, aware that the leg wound would hinder their speed. "Come, Estel, Elrohir is waiting at the gate," he replied in a hushed voice, testily taking a step forward.

But Aragorn did not move. Instead, he held his ground firmly, gently tugging on Legolas' arm. "What is it?" Legolas whispered in concern.

Aragorn's eyes shone in the moonlight. He stared at Legolas hesitatingly. Legolas' eyes narrowed, trying to understand the emotions playing so vividly in his friend's eyes. Panic?

"Legolas- the pain, it is tolerable expect." he whispered. Legolas could feel the pulse quicken. He waited for the ranger to continue. "My...my shoulders and between them- something is amiss…" he whispered, barely breathing.

"What do you feel?" Legolas ventured, dreading the answer.

"It...it is like burning ice...as though it were spreading slowly from the wound and outward…deeper…it steals my breath and my concentration." he explained, clearly searching for the words to describe what was indescribable. Aragorn swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He could not bring himself to ask and yet- "I must know Legolas, what have they done?"

Legolas felt hot tears well in his eyes as the ranger's distress permeated his heart. Aragorn seemed barely able to contain the panic welling within. He seemed so vulnerable, so very young at that moment. What they had done- Valar he did not understand it himself. He cleared his throat, turning more towards his friend. "Estel- they…inscribed characters. It is in the black speech of Mordor. I know not what it means or what evil lies in the casting, but I do know that we must get you to your father as soon as we can. I believe he will know what to do." The elf tried his best to sound confident and reassuring.

Aragorn was silent for a moment. He closed his eyes and nodded slightly, seeming to have come to some decision within himself.

"How do you feel- "

Terrified. His mind screamed. He sighed and shrugged. "In truth I have been better," the ranger replied, unable to suppress a small smile as the tension in the moment decreased. "As I said before, the rest of it is… tolerable- but the pain between my shoulders...it slowly grows in intensity and I fear…" he stopped. I fear that it will drive me to insanity. I fear what evil has now been cast upon me. I am afraid.

"Estel, listen to me son of Elrond. You must not despair- we will get out of this cursed wood, I will take you to your father and then when this is settled we will find Mithrandir. We will." He encouraged, placing a hand on the human's grizzled cheek as if to command his full attention.

Aragorn's eyes were locked on the elf's. He nodded, taking a deep breath. Mustering both strength and courage, Aragorn straightened. Without another word, Legolas began to walk, gradually increasing his speed. Aragorn struggled, but managed to match his pace.

They set out slowly. They moved as swiftly and silently as possible, which was not saying much. The shadows were their allies as they moved between the cover of each shady casting, the larger trees providing for a more comfortable oasis.

Dalinor strode briskly through the dimly lit hall, an underground passage leading to the throne room. The summons had come just as the hour turned. His legs moved instinctively, leaving his mind free to wander, drifting in an out of the events that had passed since the strangers had arrived. Guilt had settled firmly within his conscience. He had done evil, a very evil thing -- he could still feel the ranger's blood, slick on his hands. He could picture the horrid characters, that dark language, and he could hear the ranger's words- Allies to Elrond. King Elimerel had anxiously requested an audience, A strange time, the twilight before dawn,' the thought, half amused. Perhaps it had something to do with his excusing the legion of guards set to watch over the prisoner. It had been a small attempt to alleviate some of the guilt which plagued him. Legolas was there; he had felt the elf's presence throughout the entire ordeal, which only added to his shame. By now they were probably out of Lamias. What am I doing? Either way, I am a traitor, be it to myself or to the King- either way I am cursed...

He ascended rapidly, skipping steps, and arrived at the doors which to his surprise and anxiety, were wide open. He strode in, an air of sureness about him, unwilling to appear anything less than confident. Even before the long dark hair settled on his shoulders, the doors were shut behind him, colliding with a loud and definite boom. The room was lit by a number of torches lining the massive walls. They gave the place an eerie feel, almost a ritualistic ambiance. King Elimerel was seated before him at an elevation, hands resting flat on the elaborate arms of the beautifully crafted throne. He did not frown as Dalinor half expected, but instead smiled. The curve of the elf King's lips sent a cold shiver down Dalinor's spine. He made a quick sign of respect, then dropped to one knee to hear the King's words.

"Ah, Dalinor! Excellent work, your plan seems to be working perfectly," The King mused from his seat on the throne.

Dalinor remained silent, eyes narrow in carefully concealed confusion.

This seemed to please Elimerel as he continued, sure to notice the ever so slight change in demeanor of his closest confidant and friend. "The Prince has played right into our hands and we now have the two within our clutches. I have already dispatched two armed battalions to their location. All that remains is for me to make an entrance, with you by my side to command your troops."

Dalinor stared in disbelief at the King. Elimerel had known all along, had been watching Dalinor so closely. A good test. So he had seen the dismissal of the guard, had acknowledged it as a game of strategy. The move was almost too perfectly played. In fact, it had been easy for the Prince of Mirkwood to enter and now, with the poison hindering him and with the edan nearly senseless, they would be easily taken. As for Elrohir…

"And the third, Elrond's brat, will be coming to our gates at any moment, of this I am certain. He will come to help his friends escape and we will be waiting." The flames of the torches lighting the room danced diabolically in the King's eyes, reflected as though a portal into the deepest, blackest depths of his soul. There was pure evil there, and hatred.

And with good reason, Dalinor's common sense reasoned, in horrific admiration of his King's brilliance. The edain were weak, clearly a lesser, more inferior people. The very thought that they would rule middle-earth.it angered Dalinor to no end. All of his previous experiences had taught him the edain were not worthy of Iluvatar's gift. He knew well the failure of Isildur, had seen them kill the forests to build their cities, hunt the animals for their sport, fight amongst each other as though animals themselves. And then there was this ranger, more like an elf than like a human in actuality. It was strange to Dalinor to see such a noble edan and to know what he had done had gone against everything he had ever valued or been taught to value; he pushed the thought from his mind. One out of all makes no difference. Still, his resistance had been unanticipated to say the least. Half of him had wanted to see what would happen, to test the limits, when he sent away the guard. But then again, it had never been an issue to him, really, whether the edain lived or died.

Now elves were a different story entirely.

Despite the inner battle he fought over the ranger's plight, Dalinor could not compromise his principles in regards to the Prince of Mirkwood or the sons of Elrond. Elimerel's treatment of them, alone, was enough to make Dalinor question the sanity of his king. The king that had been like a father to him all of these years.Dalinor would not allow this train of thought to continue, taking in a premature breath he derailed the train. I am cursed.

"Yes, my Lord. All has come to pass. You have them at your mercy. Let us issue forth and claim your prize," he replied, standing and taking a bold step forward.

"Yes, let us proceed."

He did not expect this to be easy.

After years of the hunt, he did not expect that the end would provide for a smooth victory. But I am so close. And yet, while at the very brink of solving the mystery, he was suddenly thrust into another darker cause or what was developing into what he somehow knew would determine everything to come -- the ultimate battle between darkness and light that had somehow survived in those ancient days. And he would play his part, a part that now, more than ever, he was convinced would make an impact, and affect the outcome.

He had watched as the elf and the ranger made their way to Lamias. He had wanted to help them in their encounter with the orcs. Yet he could not reveal himself then or even now, not yet. Not until he was sure.

He shifted noiselessly from his perch in the trees, overlooking the clearing leading away from the main hall of Lamias. He watched as the elf, Dalinor, strode from the hall, issuing orders to a group of lower officers who immediately gathered round to gain their news. Though the Captain informed them of their orders, he did not break stride. The stranger cringed, a flame had been lit in the soul of Captain Dalinor and it would not easily die. He did not know what evil had been done that night, for he had had other business to attend to, but he did know that Dalinor had taken part and that the elf was changed. For better or for worse remained to be seen, but it seemed a radical and very volatile shift. It was sorrowful to see an elf so young subjected to so much turmoil and hatred.

And then Dalinor was gone. A moment later, King Elimerel emerged, mounted atop a noble black steed, surrounded by his warriors as they marched.

It had been close on the road, when they had been ambushed in the rain. He could not interfere then, watching from a slight distance. He remembered his hand, straying to his sword, itching to fly forward and assault. Yet he had stayed his thrust, patience claiming his reflexes and combating them. But the elf had known, and the ranger too. They had felt him then, as he hurried away in the face of an orc defeat.

And now, what part would he play?

The time would be soon when he would make his move. He too had his orders and his responsibilities. In the absence of the former, he was forced to adapt. I only pray I am choosing wisely, if only the wizard were here.

Elrond's son would be waiting at the northern gate. He nodded, as if suddenly resolved. He would make sure that the Chieftain and the Prince made it to the northern gate in one piece or die in the attempt.

The shadows of trees mingled with the castings of dark clouds above as the night made ready for the entrance of day. Aragorn silently surveyed the area. They were so near, so near to the northern gate. Yet something was amiss. It had been far too quiet, too easy. He knew that if it came down to it he may not have the strength to wield his sword. And Legolas only seemed to be getting worse. A thousand possible causes raced through the skilled healer's head as he took in all the elf's symptoms. It was something that only affected elves, of that Aragorn was certain, since he would most certainly have been exposed as well. He noticed the distance in Legolas' eyes when he would fall into the strange moments of reverie. And he noticed the trembling. His friend hid it well, and if Aragorn did not know him as well as he did, it may appear nothing more than careful observation of their surroundings. And then there were the sounds to be observed.

He turned his head fractionally, stepping a bit apart from Legolas, who he still leaned against. Hushed elven footsteps everywhere, gathering around them. It is a trap, he acknowledged in dismay, not entirely surprised. "Legolas, listen," he whispered, pulling the elf from his reverie.

Legolas barely breathed, the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, almost as a wind sweeping through the forest. How did he not hear that earlier? He smiled sarcastically. "Nothing less than what I expected," he sneered. He drew his bow, taking pleasure in the feel of the smooth wood in his hands, satisfied at its recovery.

Aragorn's hand flew to his waist to grasp empty air. He frowned. "They have my sword," he rasped, the words followed by a colorful string of elvish curses. "Legolas, we must try for the Northern gate, it lies just over there," Aragorn urged, suddenly inspired by the familiar trees marking the edge of the city's territory. Why hadn't they realized how close they were? These damn trees, it's like Elrohir's rendition of the "haunted forest", they all look the same he mused, recalling the childhood memory and Elrohir's trickery.

"Then let us fly!" the familiar spark returned to the elf's eyes as they began to sprint. Aragorn tried with some difficulty to match the elf's graceful gait, but managing to some extent nevertheless. They pressed on, eyes locked on that one familiar tree. The entire city of Lamias was like a giant maze, every tree just like the one beside it. The Firien Wood itself was not so much better, although a marked improvement. They seized their chance now, even as the shadows morphed into figures, many figures of solidified darkness only becoming decipherable in the slanted beams of the weakening moon.

Moments later, they were surrounded, just strides from the living wall of vine which marked the northern gate. Throngs of elven soldiers emerged from the shadows, weapons drawn, arrows aimed, encircling them as the two prepared for the attack as best they could. Legolas again drew his bow. Aragorn pulled the hidden dagger from Legolas' boot and clutched it menacingly. Neither was willing to be taken.

The sheer numbers were staggering, nearly fifty elves from what Legolas could estimate.

"Well, Estel, we have seen worse," he whispered rather loudly, standing back to back with his long-time friend.

Aragorn shrugged. "And just what have we seen, mellon nin, that has ever been worse than this?" He shot back through gritted teeth, fighting to stand, adrenaline lending him strength that he did not have. It was difficult to recall a direr situation. While Aragorn would be the first to admit that they had seen many adventures and dangers together, the memory of something worse seemed to escape him at that moment. Although, the wrath of the Lord of Rivendell is not to be taken lightly and would probably rival this.

They watched now, in silence, as the dense crowd settled and then the lines parted to allow King Elimerel himself to enter the circle. Dalinor followed at his side, sword clasped readily in hand, as obedient as ever.

TBC...and for the students out there who are in the middle of midterms- hang in there! You are not alone! wink