Again I jump into the world of The Fellowship. I hope I can continue to entertain, and I trust those of you reading this piece will let me know if I go too far. And I'm more fluent in Common Tongue, so if my Sindarin is wonky, please let me know. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING of middle-earth. All places and characters are JRR Tolkein's, and New Line Cinema. NO monies are made from this. It is strictly a work of enjoyment.

Dimrill Dale

The road to Moria.

Night came again as the Fellowship descended the Caradhras, and with it accompanied the fear of the unknown, a scout for the descending darkness. Many voices clamored for Gandalf's attention, as musings about their entrance into Moria raised fears yet not addressed.

Aragorn had traveled the Dimrill Gate, and did not wish to return. He had only to look at his old friend's face to know the Elf was not eager to again step into the darkness. Though he and Legolas' passages had been in the company of the dwarves who lived there, something festered in the Wizard's hesitation and obvious apprehension unnerved the Dúnedan greatly. What frightened Elf and Istari alike set he as mortal to quiver. The Wizard held knowledge of an unforeseen tragedy, but had not as yet spoken of it.

The Nine huddled around a small fire, close not only to warm, but to seemingly shut out all other eyes to their discussion. The hobbits all sat closest to the flame - each holding out their hands and feet in an attempt to melt away the ice. The Wizard paced before them, Gandalf in obvious distress over the Company's disagreement with Frodo's decision.

Pippin voiced his own displeasure in traveling through Moria.

Gandalf looked at each of them. "The importance here is not who will not go, but who will. We have little choice anymore - other than to turn back to Imladris, and that I fear, is the road to disaster."

Boromir, whose quiet mood had intrigued Aragorn, spoke up. "What say the Dwarf? Or even the Elf Prince?"

"Prince?" said Pippin, Merry and Sam in unison as they all turned and looked back at the tall, silent archer standing beside Gandalf.

Legolas' expression remained stoic.

The Gondorian's tone piqued the Ranger's ire. He gave the swordsman a sharp glare that was utterly lost in the shadow and movement of the fire.

"Nonsense, all of this," Gimli barreled. He placed his hands upon his hips and looked at them all. "My cousin Balin would welcome us with his hospitality. We would be safe, hidden from the caw of foul birds or the flinging of ice and wind from the mountain."

"Did you know he was a Prince?" Pippin hissed to Merry.

Aragorn desired the Dwarf's conviction of welcome and hospitality, but something in the manner of Gandalf's hesitation again prevented any soothing vision as the ones Gimli held. He looked to Legolas, as did the Company.

"Nay," answered Merry. "Shhh..."

The Elf shook his head slowly, his gaze focused on the fire, yet the Ranger knew his friend's thoughts were leagues from here. With an uneasy gaze, he looked at all of them and crossed his arms over his chest. "Elves do not walk in the dark earth."

"Humph," Gimli said, a bit louder than needed.

But Aragorn knew his friend's words were not directed as an insult to the Dwarf - not entirely. For the Ranger knew how the Elf fared badly beneath the rock and stone, his Elven light nearly extinguished in the dark. Legolas suffered as many Elves did, from their lack of love for things dim and unclear. Underground the archer would be cut off from the trees, the sky and the fresh air. He would, in a sense, be blind. The Elf would see this as a weakness, and would not wish the company to see it as such.

"He's royalty, Mr. Frodo."

"I heard him, Sam," Frodo put a hand on his friend's stout knee and looked away from the Company and into the darkness. "Listen."

Aragorn heard the Hobbit's conversation peripherally. Only something in the tone of Frodo's voice caused him to look harder at the Ring bearer. Obviously, one would think the Hobbit meant for Sam to listen to the conversation, yet the Hobbit's gaze was cast upward, then around.

The Elf's stance changed then, only perceived by Aragorn who knew his friend's postures. Legolas' senses had come alive as he turned his Elven sight to the darkness.

"What say you, Boromir?" Gandalf asked, giving the Elf beside him a glance, then retrieved his pipe from his staff. He began the simple task of stuffing the small, wooden bowl.

Aragorn heard the Gondorian answer that he would not go. Unless his voice was drowned by those of the Company.

Frodo spoke of the wind of howling wolves. It was then Aragorn knew what it was his senses had detected. They were indeed being watched, only the eyes were feral, and patient, unlike the mountain that did not think and the Crebain's vile excitement.

This power was subtle, and deadly.

Legolas' bow was unsheathed immediately, an arrow at the ready. Gimli went for his axe, lain nearest Pippin. Aragorn pulled Andúril from its scabbard and held it ready. Each of the warriors stood with their backs to the fire.

"Wolves, indeed." Gandalf took a heavy pull of his pipe. He did not move, nor did he flinch. "They are not ready to attack, and we still may yet achieve rest. Mayhaps we talk of this tomorrow, when our bones are not so worried, and our hearts less burdened."

The Ranger was surprised at the Istari's calm demeanor. His gaze roamed to Legolas, whose focus remained towards the dark. Aragorn resheathed his sword and nodded to Frodo and Sam, who looked at him with question and fear. "If Gandalf believes they will not attack, then I too will give a little to rest. Be eased, Frodo. You same get some sleep." He looked past them to the two other hobbits. "You too."

Boromir resheathed his own sword, and Aragorn became conscious that he had not noticed the Gondorian's actions. He watched the son of Denethor as he bent close to Merry and Pippin and spoke kindly words of bravery and courage. The two returned his kindness with smiles of their own, then turned their attentions to making their beds beside Sam and Frodo.

Gimli stood with his axe still in his large hands, his dark gaze searching the night. Aragorn moved past him to Gandalf, who, with a nod, reassured the Ranger that all was well.

For now.

He continued on past the Wizard to the edge of the darkness beyond where his old friend stood a measure away, his bow still drawn, an arrow still fitted. His pupils were large, blocking out his blue gaze as he turned that stare to Aragorn. The Ranger detected a slight quiver in Legolas' voice as he whispered. "I do not wish to go into Moria, Estel."

"I know, mellon-nîn," the Ranger sighed softly. "But there is truly no other way - not with the enemy of time behind us. Or Saruman's spies around us. Perhaps, if Balin still rules there, we can achieve safe passage."

The face Legolas turned on Aragorn was fierce, his dark eyes narrowed, his ethereal glow flickering. "You no more believe that than Mithrandir does. I sense something from the West, near the Dimrill Gate. It is dark and ominous as no storm or magic of Saruman can conjure. A shadow sleeps over that place, and there is little laughter that issues from its cracks." He looked away, his gaze again returning to the night, his voice so low, Aragorn wondered if he was meant to hear them the spoken words. "I will be of no help to the Company in that dark place. I will not be able to fulfill promises made..."

Aragorn knew there was little he could do to alleviate the Elf's fear. It was not often he had seen such distress in his friend, not even during their first treks together through the mines. His mention of promises pulled Aragorn's memories back to the morning of their departure. Had his friend given a promise, or perhaps a vow? Elven vows, those made on the approval of the Valar, were binding. Had Elrond asked something of this Elf, something that threatened to crush his shoulders beneath its burden? "Legolas - what is it that has you so afraid? Surely Gimli fells confident that we will be welcomed, and I am sure there are those that will remember you and I - "

"I cannot speak it." The Elf said as much in a rush. "It covers me like a cloak of dread that cannot be removed." He turned his gaze again to the Ranger. His expression had softened, but in it there was still the trace of fear. "I heard there had not been word from the Dwarves of Moria in a great expanse of time. Has no one ever questioned why? And if we are being directed, steered toward a goal that Saruman desires of us, then it begs for understanding that such a road is filled with danger and peril of a most heinous kind."

Aragorn had not thought on such a question until this moment. Again how sharp was the mind of the archer. His fear had gotten to the very core of what had nagged at the Ranger. It seemed obvious to everyone that Moria would be the quickest - even Gandalf believed so. And yet no one had questioned why the White Wizard was guiding them there.

"I cannot answer that as of yet, my dear Master Elf," came a graveled voice behind Elf and Ranger. "Only know that Moria is the shortest distance."

The two turned as Gandalf stood between them, his pipe in his hand, his expression solemn. He looked to Legolas, then to Aragorn and nodded. "I know Moria may spell disaster - and the Company may suffer. But sometimes great tragedy renders great deeds."

"I do not like your words, Mithrandir," Legolas' voice was low and he replaced his arrow to his quiver noiselessly. Yet he kept his bow clutched to his chest, cradled in both arms as if the very wood could protect him.

"Keep your senses keen, son of Thranduil," Gandalf nodded to him. "Though you fear the dark, you will still be of aid to the hobbits. Watch for them, and spur them all when it seems that darkness may take us."

"I do not like your words either, Grey Pilgrim," Aragorn said and laid his right hand upon the Wizard's shoulder. The muscle and bone beneath it were sturdier than the Istari's outward appearance would have the average observer believe. "You know something..."

The Wizard smiled and tapped his pipe out into the damp grass. "I know many things, Estel of Imladris. But the future is a twisting path. And so we must bend it our way. Some may fall, but others will survive and flourish under the hand of grief."

"No more!" Legolas stepped away. "I will not hear it," he turned and vanished in the dark.

Aragorn would follow his friend, but the Wizard put a stealing hand on his shoulder. "Let him go, Aragorn. Legolas will fight his own demons, in his own way. He will not go far, and his senses will be better used away from our sounds of sleep and mutterings."

Aragorn narrowed his eyes at Gandalf. "You know this night will not go smooth."

"No," Gandalf shook his head as he looked out a the darkness. "It will not. Be ready."

~*~

Legolas ran to the nearest tree. The Elf reached out his right hand and flattened his palm against the soothing, damp bark. Through their trek from the snowy mountain he had pondered his fear, questioned its reason for being. He had traversed the mines before - it was not a new journey for him - and yet his fear of entering those caverns was more pronounced. There was so much more at stake. It was not until realization came crashing down upon him of his promises to keep Estel safe.

He dropped his bow and wrapped his arms tightly about its trunk. Old was the voice from the tree, the whisper of a grandfather to a troubled grandson. Its reassurances eased the Elf's overwhelming feelings of guilt. He sensed death, had since the talk had turned toward Moria. And Mithrandir had confirmed his fear. Death awaits us. In the dark of that foul place. There I will be only half myself, immobile in my claustrophobic weakness.

And something awaited them there in the halls of Moria. Even Mithrandir knew the awful truth. There was nothing written on Death's scroll that Estel was its victim - yet it seemed to Legolas that Saruman and his Dark Lord would be after the one who could defeat them. The last of the Númenor. The Valar would hold him to those promises he made with bold bravado and naive strength.

He held the tree tighter and closed his eyes to the darkness. I will fail. My hope to protect him, my vows, it will all come to naught.

A small voice within him admonished his behaviour. It held the stern voice of his father, but the loving face of his mother. Rubbish, it said. Death will not come to the Númenor, for you are there to protect him.

Protect him?

Legolas nearly laughed at his foolishness. Protect Estel with what meager means he would have at his disposal in the mines? He had never dreamed their paths would lead them to the one place where Legolas believed his abilities would be their weakest. If the cave walls of Moria do not destroy my resolve, then whatever it was that frightened the Istari would. Too much he had taken on, and not even the quieting voice of the tree eased his hopeless state.

With a single step away, his bow in his left hand, Legolas leapt up into the tree and found a place where its branches formed a seat. There he could look out over the Company and the land around them.

In this place, beneath the stars, I can hear the trees, the mountains, the streams. But in Moria there is only the deafening silence.

The Elf shivered. He could not allow the others to see his discomfort. Especially the Dwarf, who seemed to relish in the obvious decision to enter his kin's dwelling. Legolas knew they would all step through the gate. But not all would survive.

No, no, no. He squeezed his eyes shut. Such thoughts were folly, indeed. He did not possess the gift of foresight - and yet he felt so sure Death was there, a tangible thing. He did not fear for his own life, for even as a spirit he would break down the doors of Mandos to return and protect Estel.

A soft hand caressed his cheek. Legolas' eyes snapped open. He looked around, sure that he had felt a physical touch. Perhaps it was the leaves of the tree, caressing its son in comfort.

There was the touch again, and the wind whispered his name...

"Alachas Legolas..."

The voice held the sound of bells in his mind as it spoke his tongue, telling him not to fear. He closed his eyes, unknowingly seeking comfort in the touch on his cheek. His skin grew warm and he recognized Arwen's voice in his mind.

She was there, beside him. Caressing him. All will be well, mellon-nîn. You are strong...dare not to despair...protect him... beria meleth nîn. It was as if she willed her strength to him and his despair eased back to a nagging memory, an ember struggling for life to rekindle in the air.

He returned her thoughts with his own...words he wished he'd said to her on the morn of their departure. Gar Elessar an gûr.

The voice lulled him as she whispered to him. Her voice was replaced by the soothing sounds of the tree, the wisp of the leaves in the wind, the sound of a nearby stream trickling toward the Anduin. And the low vibration of a predator nearby...

His opened his eyes - all senses on alert. He leaned forward to see into the night, willing his gaze to see further, better. The tree spoke to him of danger. Of teeth and gnashing strength.

A wolf. He could see her slow movements along the border of the camp. And something else caught his attention, approaching from the north. It barked and growled, snarled and snapped as it grew closer.

"Legolas?" came Aragorn's voice in the dark.

No! The wolf heard his friend as well, and the Elf watched as the beast trained its sights on the mortal. Oh no you will not have him. He pulled an arrow from his bow. He could see the animal prowling nearer to Estel, and saw the Ranger's own senses come alive as he drew his sword. Legolas could not get a clear shot at the wolf through the leaves. He would have to be on the ground.

With a slight smile, the Elf leapt from the branch. He landed soundlessly, his stance assuming down upon his left knee as he aimed and let fly his arrow. The cry of the wolf was his reward as he sprang forward and closed the gap between the creature and Estel. The Ranger's eyes were wide as he approached, seeming to appear from the darkness. The wolf moved away, its piteous cries awakening the Company.

"I give you my thanks," Aragorn said breathlessly.

"Thank me not, for a much greater foe approaches from the north."

Aragorn turned as Gandalf let lose the cry. "Wargs!"

That was the great evil the tree had warned him of. The Elf heard the schwinging of swords drawn from scabbard as the Company prepared themselves for battle against the enemy. Legolas chanced a glance behind him at the fire. The hobbits stood in a protective stance before Frodo. Boromir, Gandalf, Gimli, himself and Aragorn stood in a circle, their backs to the fire.

The Wargs came from the darkness, hideous beasts three times the size of any wolf. Gandalf commanded the hobbits to build the fire higher, though for what purpose the Archer could not guess.

His questions were soon dissolved as he found himself firing arrow upon arrow at the approaching beasts. They seemed to come at them from all directions, snarling and snapping. He saw Aragorn fell three with his sword, swinging round as he dipped on one knee and removed the head of one then brought the powerful blade around and thrust it into the throat of another.

Boromir fought as bravely, hacking and thrusting, grunts of strength and attack issuing from his lips. Six he felled in a span of a few quick breaths. But this did little to sway the attack.

To the Elf's ultimate surprise, the dwarf fought equally as skilled, wielding his axe with the same ease and skill as any swordsman of the Rohan or Gondor. Small in stature, he was able to use this to his advantage, sidestepping several attacks then doubling back upon the Warg with severing blows.

Again and again Legolas fired, bringing down four more. But this attack was endless as it seemed the forests had opened up and loosed upon them all the Wargs of the world.

The Elf caught sight of Mithrandir as he wrenched a burning branch from the fire and cast it into the air. Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth! the Grey Pilgrim sang, his voice crying out over the snarling den.

Legolas nearly dropped his bow and his last arrow as the branch burst into a brilliance too much for his sensitive eyes. Screams of agony filled the night and in reflex, he sensed defiance and strung his arrow. His sight temporarily dulled, he aimed at the emotion and let loose. He saw his arrow burst into flames before it looked to move of its own accord and strike the heart of a what he could only assume was the leader of the pack from its enormity, poised and ready to strike the Company. The creature fell dead at his softly booted feet.

Sam gave up a cheer when no other Warg charged and the fire quieted down. Sighs and mutterings greeted them all as the hobbits praised men, Wizard, Dwarf and Elf. Legolas moved back a step, away from the Warg. His eyes stung from the Wizard's magic and he needed to sit and recover.

A small hand found its way into his and he looked down, squinting into a cheery face as it looked up at him. "I saw you look at the flare. Let me help."

Pippin guided him to one of the smaller logs pulled near the fire facing the great tree. Legolas could see where to sit and once down, dropped his bow and put the palms of his hands to his eyes. He knew there was no permanent damage, and sometimes it could be problematic to have such keen senses when they are easily disturbed. He did not see what had become of the Hobbit when he turned to thank him. The elf did not wish to show weakness, but he was Prince enough to know when to return thanks for kindness.

"Are you well?" This was Aragorn's voice.

Legolas looked up from his log to see his old friend standing before him, his hand resting on his sheathed sword. The Elf nodded. "The flare of the branch was bright - nearly as bright as Eärendil." He blinked several times.

Gandalf appeared behind the Dunédan, his aged face housing a smile. "Many thanks, Master Greenleaf. Again your senses aided us, and perchance saved Aragorn's life. The She-wolf was close - and poised to kill. We will have need of those talents of yours in Moria." The Wizard slapped Aragorn's back in affection and moved away.

There was no argument. The Company would proceed into the mines. But he had known that from the first. The Elf nodded slowly. Need of my senses? Does he not know I am nearly blind in those caves? I will be little more than Bill the Pony in that place.

"Tell me your thoughts."

Legolas blanched. His friend had not moved. The Elf shook his head. "I - " but how could he tell his best friend of his fears? They touched upon the promises made and of these the Ranger could not know, lest the telling would diminish their power. He tried to give his friend a weak smile. "It is the old fears. The enclosing walls."

Aragorn's expression hardened though he kept his council to himself. He gave a nod and moved away, and with him, he took his warmth. Legolas lowered his shoulders in defeat. His sight was returning.

"I've gathered all I could find, Master Legolas," Pippin said as he approached, his arms full of the Elf's arrows. He bent and laid them with great care before the Prince's feet. "I think only one is broken - with only the pointy end left."

Legolas looked into the dirtied and buoyant face of the Hobbit. And to his surprise, he gave the halfling a broad smile and reached out to grip the young one's shoulder. "Many thanks, Master Took. I am in your debt."

Straightening, his chest thrust out in pride, the Hobbit bowed. "At your service, your Highness." He spun and strolled back to the fire and Sam, Frodo and Merry.

Legolas gave a long sigh and he looked down to his arrows, wishing all the while that Boromir had not let that bit of information of him slip out. It seems there would be more than the mines and his personal fears to contend with, it seemed. Slowly, his sight restored, Legolas began to inspect the arrows brought to him by the brave Pippin.

TBC

N/A

gemstone: Thank you so much for the compliment - I want to remain as close to the characters as possible, both in the films and the movies. I hope I can keep things spot on. ;)

Gwyn: I too noticed how Legolas, in the film, tried to protect Gandalf. He's such a caring Elf! Now, about your updates…???

White Wolf: The whole movie? All Three? Or just the Fellowship? In the worlds of Legolas Greenleaf, "Ai! Ai!"

muggles: I'm trying to keep a nice mix between the two. This part is definately leaning more toward the book. Leaning only. ;)

JDFielding: Updating frequently is going to get harder. Now with SAB started - but I'll do my best.