Disclaimer: All rights to the plot and characters of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy belong exclusively to the estate of J.R.R.Tolkien. No commerce is being exchanged in this endeavor, nor is a profit being made. This story is written strictly for entertainment purposes.
I apologize for the very long time between posts. I'm afraid I became involved in a few other projects including that of my daughter's birthday. And of course, once I had The Two Towers in my posession, I just couldn't stop watching it. I hope this chapter meets expectations.
The Mines of Moria
The Journey Begins
Stale air as thick as fog and tainted with the rotting stench of decay greated the Company as Gandalf proceeded them through the Doors of Durin. Legolas felt an icy grip upon his heart as his feet refused to go forward. From somewhere on the inner planes of his subconscious he heard a voice warning him to beware - do not turn your back upon the water!
Boromir walked past, his own gaze returning furtively to the lake behind them. The Elf gave the still water a last glance as his senses screamed at him to draw bow and arrow. Danger lay not before them in the mines, but behind them.
He followed the boisterous Dwarf inside. Gimli's voice reverbrated against the dark interrior. It was hard to see within the mountain's walls, for it seemed as murky as the lake. There was little light for his Elven eyes to take sustenance from.
"Soon master elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone..."
The Elf's stomach twisted as he remembered another time within these mines, as he and Aragorn had aided in the Dwarves' fight against Orcs, and Legolas had nearly died of Morgul poison. The thought of food seemed rather incongruous with their present situation. Only a Dwarf could think of filling his belly during times like these.
Just ahead of them the Istari blew air upon the top of his staff, and the crystal situated there gave a soft glow, faint illumination to the scene before them.
"This my friend is the home of my cousin Balin." The Dwarf continued in his speech, oblivious to what the light of Gandalf's staff revealed. "And they call it a mine...a mine!"
Legolas stopped in his tracks as he looked about, the taint of death settling about his shoulders like an icy cloak. He shivered as his eyes took in the sight.
"This is no mine...this is a tomb," the tone of Boromir's voice told the horror that held each of them as the crystal from Gandalf's staff illuminated the carnage that littered the dirtied and muddied floor.
"No!" The Dwarf's voice struck out from the depths of his soul and pierced the utter silence of Moria with its lament.
Legolas felt for the grieved Dwarf, for he knew the depths of anger and despair he would know should he return to the home of his kin to find them brutally slaughtered as such? Anger - rage - hatred. These are the emotions that came to the surface of his thoughts as he looked about. And he welcomed them, for within anger he could draw courage. He strode to the nearest corpse and pulled an arrow from its gullet. He recognized the blackened feathers and the crude fletchings that now stank of morgul as he held it up to his keen eyes. "Goblins!"
The Elf threw the arrow to the ground. Within seconds he had his bow in hand, an arrow knotched and ready. Where there were Goblins, there were orcs. And from the few Orc or Goblin corpses I see here, the fouler beasts of Mordor fared much better.
Boromir's voice was low but audible as he took Aragorn's arm. "We make for the gap of rohan. We should never have come here." He turned to face the Doors.
Legolas glanced back to see the hobbits, all four, standing in gaping horror at the carnage.
"Get out of here...get out!" Boromir called.
The hobbits began a halted retreat backwards. Legolas turned back to face the great stairway. Again he was taken by the imminent warnings of danger. The trees outside called to him - their voices faint on the wind.
Danger! Danger!
A Hobbit's small cry took Legolas' breath away as the Elf turned. First Frodo was there, and then he wasn't. The small hobbit had fallen forward, and then had been dragged away
to the lake!
"Frodo!" Sam cried out in an anguished tone.
Oh Ai! The Elf watched Aragorn and Boromir scramble out of the damp mine, hurdling over the corpses of dwarves on their way to the opening.
"Legolas!" Gandalf cried. "Follow them!"
With a nod the Mirkwood Prince rushed out behind the two warriors.
He stopped short at the door at what he saw. It would be the lesser one of two moments during their journey into Moria when the Elf Prince would be striken with a fear so great it gripped his muscles with a paralyzing, icy hand.
Tentacles the size of mid-grown trees wrangled and writhed from the lake's depth, its still, murky surface no longer smooth, but chopped and hacked with the thrashing of her monster. He had never laid witness to such a monstrocity – and all the while a voice had warned him of the foulness beneath the depths!
Ai! I should have listened! 'Twas plane the Valar are watching, and their warning I ignored!
The beast waved eight of these tree-sized limbs in the air. Within its grasp was Frodo. The Hobbit was tossed about by his ankle as he called out for Aragorn over and over again.
Strider hacked to his left as Boromir stumbled out into the lake to give of his own sword. Legolas took aim and shot a well placed arror into one of the monster's tentacles. It gave forth a bellow that shook the ground and forced the trees to wail inside the Elf's mind. He quickly pulled another arrow from his back as Boromir yelled and gave a severing blow to a limb.
The Ranger moved in the slogging water and pulled back his own sword to sever the tentacle holding the Hobbit. Boromir had seen the severing strike and resheathed his weapon. He held his arms out to catch the tumbling Frodo.
Legolas took airm, his face set in a fierce grimace.
Gandalf yelled from behind him. "Into the mines!"
Boromir clutched Frodo in his grasp as Strider came up behind him. "Legolas! Into its eye!"
The eye. The Elf narrowed his gaze and focused his keen sight on the monster's eye. He saw the great maw of teeth, heard the pitiful cries of its wounded pride. His senses peirced beyond the creature's pain, past the filthy mind of menace he encountered, and at last found the weakness of the beast's massive girth.
It was indeed the eye. Boromir had chosen correctly.
He allowed the power of the wind to guide his arm, sunk deep within the hum of the trees and focused the arrow's tip upon its game.
He released the deadly shaft with no other movement save the whip of a lock of flaxen hair.
The arrow found home! It pierced the creature's eye and it let forth a bellow to rival all gutteral speeches uttered before it. Boromir reached the water's edge and released Frodo at Legolas' feet. Strider gained ground upon the shore as well and pushed the Hobbits inside as Sam turned and ran into the darkness.
The Elf bent down, his bow still clutched within his left hand, and pulled Frodo up upon his feet. He sensed the creatures' remaining tentacles as they searched behind them, seeking out revenge for its pain.
"Rise, little Hobbit," Legolas spoke to Frodo softly, "Rise and run!"
Frodo nodded and scrambled upon shaky feet. Legolas nearly pushed him forward as he felt the tentacles behind him, smelled their putrid tainted slime.
He cast a glance back as the others ran before him. The creature had pulled itself from the lake and its tentacles groped along the shores. It smashed the trees and their dying song twisted inside of Legolas. He nearly stumbled as their pain echoed in his mind, until Strider was there, his arm beneath his friend's. The Elf gave the human a smile and the two ran behind the Company as the doors of Durin came crashing down.
The force pushed Strider forward, and Legolas came to his aid, bracing his shoulder as the last of the light of the world outside winked out, as if snuffing a candle.
The darkness enveloped Legolas. It pushed at him, pressed against him, forced the air from his chest. There was no light for his eyes to see by – no hope to gleem a promise of freedom upon.
He listened to the settling debris as one by one the stone and rock formed the barrier separating him from the sun. From the air.
From the forest.
Something moved beside him. It was Strider who put his hands on the Elf's shoulder, who guided him to stand in the consuming darkness.
"I am with you, Mellon-nîn," he whispered in the gray tongue.
Estel was with him. His friend and brother. With him, the darkness held a small bit of hope, and light. Legolas felt ashamed that he had turned away from his friend who now came to him in the dark even as the Hobbits began to mutter amongst themselves. You who wish to protect – you cannot even control your fear. Brave Elven warrior indeed.
The Istari's crystal once more came to life and cast an eery illumination upon the Company. Legolas saw Strider's face so close to his own, and in those gray eyes, he found a place to hold onto the light. He gave his brother a stiff smile and Strider returned it with a warm wink.
Your promise does not include turning from your brother, little Greenleaf.
Legolas started at the voice, spoken so softly within his mind. It was then he realized that she was with him again, as she had been that night in the trees, beside him and had been throughout the journey. The Valar brought the Undómiel close to his heart, so dangerous a place for the truest love of his life to be.
"Are you all right?" Estel spoke softly again in the grey tongue.
Legolas smiled and put a bracing hand on his friend's wrist. "I am for now."
The two friends moved to join the Hobbits, the Dwarf and the Gondorian as the Istari moved past each of them.
"We now have but one choice," Mithrandir's deep, throaty voice echoed within the dark chamber. His skin looked ashen within the crytal's glow. "We must face the long dark of Moria." He moved past each of them, and Legolas straightened, not wanting to show his fear before the Istari. "There are older and fouler things in the deep places of the world."
Mithrandir lead the way down a corridor only he could see.
"Quietly now - it is a four day journey to the other side."
Legolas took in a deep breath as he fell in step behind the Istari. He caught the last of the fresh air that had lingered within as the Doors came down, and held it deep inside his lungs. With a glance back to see that Aragorn had taken up a position behind the Hobbits, the Elf Prince moved forward.
I only pray to the Valar that I can be as great a protector of my brother and the Hobbits here, as I can be in the woods. I fear I may lose my way in this cursed darkness, and even the love of my brother will not find me.
Arwen settled back against the tree and allowed the wood's soothing life to disapate her own pent-up passion. For being locked to the Prince's soul as it were, had brought her in close to his emotions. Never have I experienced such as this. My grandmother taught me how to see into the water – but can even she dwell within the heart of another such as I have done? The short battle with the water's watcher had not come unexpectedly – but it had come swiftly. She had sensed something there, lurking beneath that murky calm, just as Legolas had sensed it.
It was only afterward, when the shaking thrill of battle had lessoned his hold upon his fears that she had broken through Legolas' barrier to touch upon what frightened him. So dear a thing is the wild Sindarin heart. So brave and fierce, and yet so dependant upon the wood and her kin. And he would not see it so. No, my dear Prince would never admitt to his needs, not when he believed they would lesson himself as a warrior. I fear my beloved will need to protect the Prince as much as the Prince is there to protect the future King.
For even I had sensed my beloved's touch upon Legolas' arm, and I then knew the bond both Elf and Man share. I fear it is something I shall never know myself.
"Arwen?"
The sun had sunk low behind the mountains of Imladris. The air contained a bit of cold to it as it brushed the leaves back and forth to whisper around her. She quickly emptied the silver bowl and moved it beneath a pile of leaves before her brother emerged from the trees to her right.
"Yes Elrohir?"
The dark haired Elf gave his sister a measured stare, his right eyebrow arched ever so delicately upon his ageless face. A smile pulled at the edges of his full lips. "I came to see what has occupied your time since your brother and I have returned. But I see from the guilt so faultily displayed upon your face that you have other things that occupy your time."
She gave the youngest twin a sardonic smile, yet sweetened its edge with a light laugh. "There is naught I can do that can be hidden from your eye, is there?"
"Nay," Elrohir moved closer to his sister and bent low to the grass beside her. He wore a simple shirt of shimmering green and a jerkin of aged leather. His breeches were dark and soft, and on his feet rested little more than house-slippers, crafted of fine silk. He kept his long, dark locks pulled back at the sides into braids that kept it from his eyes. "There is nothing, dear sister. But know that what I suspect, not always does Elladan. Though we be of the same blessed breath of Valar, we are quite different."
She gave him a slow smile, but could do nothing of the sigh that escaped her lips. "Then you know I worry."
"I know many things, Arwen." He reached across her and pulled out the silver bowl. "What I wish to know now is how our brother fares?" He held the bowl to him and gazed into its silver reflection. "For I do not believe you have spent these days gazing into the waters to look across the lake to the Grey Havens, now have you?"
Trepidation sped her heart, but Arwen knew in the center of her soul that Elrohir could be trusted to hold the dearest of secrets. For it was he that knew of her love of Estel long before their Father suspected. She reached out and touched her brother's strong and smooth cheek. "They go into Moria."
Elrohir's face darkened and a harsh line formed between his delicate brow and warred with his smooth beauty. "This is not the way our brother sought – they have been led there."
"Aye," Arwen gave him her fears and shifted her position upon the ground. A bird called out in the approaching night and she licked her lips in anticipation of sharing all that she had seen.
And there under that twilight she told him, of Saroman's betrayals, of the crowbain, of the doors and of Legolas' sensing of the watcher. The Elven Warrior was most interested in the link that his sister seemed to have formed with the Elven Prince.
"It came to me, one night. Woke me from my sleep." She stood and moved to the hill's edge, where the whole of Imladris spread out before her. The moon glittered upon the lake that ran through the city's center, and the waterfalls amidst the mountain ranges sparkled like fireflies. "I heard him callthe Prince. He was afraid and I felt that fear, as if it were my own. I did not know its reason. But I found I could comfort him. I found that I could listen to his thoughts at times," she turned face her brother, her face shrouded in shadow. "And now, I find that I can see through his eyes."
"Such a gift," Elrohir was on his feet and beside his sister. He put his hands on her shoulders. "How is such a thing possible? Is this some trick of the mind, some magic the Lady Galadriel has taught you?"
"No," she shook her head. "Upon the night of the Departure, I bade the Prince promise me to take care of Estel. To watch over him, in my stead. And such a promise was heard by the Valar, Elrohir. And now he and I are bound to one another."
"Aye," the dark haired Elf nodded. "It is a pity you cannot hold this gift with Estel."
Arwen felt the tears well in her eyes again, and cursed their revelations of the despair she felt inside. "Every night I pray for that close bond, and every night I hear Legolas' fears."
"What fears?" The tall dark Elf leaned down to his sister. "Please, tell me of his fears. For the Prince of Mirkwood is our brother as well as Estel's. He had made a promise to me and Elladan as well. What could our Woodland kin fear?"
A breeze blew through the trees. Cicadas called their symphony in the descending night as the Undómiel peered into the grey eyes of her dear brother. "He fears the dark, Elrohir. He fears the enclosed spaces of Moria, as all Woodland kin would. Inside those dark caves, he believes he will be useless, no longer the eyes and ears of the Company of Nine. This fear taunts him, and because he has made his vow to me, he believes he must bear this awful truth of his flaw silently upon himself."
"He should ask aid of Estel." Elrohir pursed his own full lips. "Surely our brother will sense the fear in Legolas, and he will aid him in any way he can. You know your beloved's heart, dear Undómiel. And I know yours."
A twig snapped in the darkening wood. Arwen moved to the side and smiled at the shadow there in the trees. "Come Elladan – it seems where ever your brother goes, you must follow."
Elrohir turned and gave his twin a scathing look. "I suppose you have overheard?"
"'Tis not something I had not already feared," the taller of the twins appeared from the shadow. He was dressed much as his brother, but in opposing colors. His own dark hair was pulled back in a single, thick braid. "Long ago, when Fingolfin returned to us, I learned of the Prince's self-doubt in the darkness of caves. But I had not known of his pledge to the Valar." He stopped beside his sister. "Is there naught we can do to aid in the overwatch of our brother?"
The Undómiel gave them both a smile, and thanked the great ones for the gift of such a loving family. No other Elven Maiden is so lucky to have such stolid and loyal brothers. "We can only reasure him. I can be there with him. But I must have time and place, and safety. I am not sure Ada would be as kind in heart with judgement upon that which I do."
"With this you are right," Elladan nodded. "Though I am loathe to extol such exercises without his knowledge under the protection of his forests. I can bear witness to its necessity if we are thus caught." He glanced at Elrohir, then turned a concerned face to Arwen. "Where are they now?"
"Gone into the mines. There is no choice as the Doors of Durin lay in ruin." She gave a shuddering sigh at the memory of the beast, and of Legolas' powerful arrows. She had smelled the fetid water as it was cast about with the fiend's thrashing. She had heard the shouts of the others as their courage became a shield against their fears. I believe this was only he beginning of the dangers the Nine Walkers will face.
Elladan held Arwen close as Elrohir stepped to the side. "Then sister, we will give you such time. You must follow them, and watch over them. And together we will give our kin promise to continue. In the darkness there is evil, and through your bond, you will give him light, and it is with this light he will see Estel safely through."
"Your words are a comfort to me," Arwen relaxed into her brother's powerful embrace. Elves were the stuff of strength and from him, she gathered all that she could. "I hear in my head a single phrase often spoken of in song – a simple rote give to me by our grandmother. Something that I believe I may give him so that he may find the courage he will need."
"Then what is this wonderous string of phrase?" Elrohir asked.
Arwen pulled out of her brother's embrace and stepped to the side. She did not know or understand how the moonlight held her form transfixed in the twin's eyes as they held the Undómiel of their people. "Commn ul ele ell – my heart sings to thee. And it is in this that I will give him a song to carry with him through the mines as he watches over my beloved."
Elladan nodded, and though is countenence was stern, his lips pulled upward in a sad smile. "Pride is but a sin of our brother, and that too of the Prince. Hope we must that the two discover again their bond of friendship within the mines."
"Aye," Arwen nodded. "But I believe such a bond will be strengthened by another," she paused and looked to her right at the river below. "An un-heard of friendship that will forge itself in the death and despair that is Moria."
"Tell, then." Elrohir said.
But the Undómiel shook her head. There will be time to tell, to watch and see, if the prophetic dreams passed on to her by her grandmother will indeed come to pass.
I am there, Legolas of Mirkwood, and through you, I will watch my beloved through the darkness.
The mines were more oppressive now than they had been years ago when he and Legolas ventured inside of them. Ah, but in those days, the halls had been alive with the sounds of many Dwarves, intent on mining and feasting. Now there is only the ghost of death and hopelessness that hangs over our shoulders.
The Ranger had chosen the end of the line that followed the Istari. Boromir had gathered a torch and caught its blaze with the spark of two rocks. Single was the lights of the crystal staff and that of the flame, but ahead of him Strider saw the etheral light of the Elf. Bright it was here, and without the aid of the moon. But how long would that light last here in the dark?
I am not blind now to my friend's distress. He cursed himself inwardly for not uderstanding the Elf's stolid bearing before. Such a weakness was not something Legolas would wish known. Strider knew of it because he had ventured into these mines before, and it was during one of those times that he himself had nearly died at the hands of Orcs.
It had been Legolas' perserverence with the Dwarven Lords that saved him, and then to have discovered his Elven brother had been pierced by a poisoned blade. It was not the first time Lord Elrond's healing gift had saved the Prince.
And I do not wish a repeat of such a thing. But we are both much wiser and older now. Perhaps myself more than the Prince. But we know now the dangers of the mines, and understand its need for death.
Boromir stumbled only a bit and Strider had his hand out for the Gondorian. With a nod, the warrior continued on and Strider again took up the rear. He heard Gandalf's voice ahead of them, speaking softly to those that would listen, of the things the Dwarves here mined. Mithril – beautiful and most valueable. And again he looked to the front to see Legolas there, following close behind the Istari.
Once or twice the Elf was asked a question in private and Strider watched as Gandalf would nod and continue on. Perhaps my friend will cheer himself now that he has purpose again? No, that is not truth in itself. I must speak with him, for without words, I cannot be certain what it is that ails him, and surely it is an ailment that darkens his brow and pales his skin so, even before we stepped inside.
The Nine traveled far the first night, and Gandalf chose a flatish space to rest and recover and perhaps have a quick meal. The Istari brought out the Miruvor to drink, and each took a sip. Strider appreciated the elixir's value and took in his own portion with a prayer to the Valar. He watched Legolas drink, and was taken by the Elf's quickness.
Had he even supped?
"Can you help us with our packs, Strider?" Sam came to him in the dim light of torch and crystal. "I still have rations enough that if I cook them a bit at a time, we might make it through this hellish place with full bellies."
Strider could not help but smile at the stout Hobbit's retorts. He gave the tiny Hobbit a nod and set about helping Sam, Frodo and Merry unpack what small bits they carried. Boromir aided as well, and soon there was a small fire well hidden from the rest of the caverns. The smells of frying sausage and tomatoes enticed the Ranger and he helped himself to a small portion.
It was Pippin whose presence was missed when the food was given out. Frodo noticed it at first and he looked about with a whisper to Strider. "I've not seen him since we stopped."
Then in the shadows the younger of the Hobbits appeared. His smudged face held a look of great concern for one so small.
Strider went to him and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. "Pippin? Are you not hungry? I would almost believe you have missed second breakfast and have not complained as of yet."
But the Hobbit only shook his head. He peered up at the man, and Strider knelt dwon beside him. "What is it, Pippin?"
"I worry for the Prince," the Hobbit's voice was soft, almost as if he did not wish to alarm anyone else, but shared a confidence with the Ranger alone. "He is sitting alone near the first fork. He seems – sad. And his light," Pippin shook his head. "'Tis not as bright as it has been. Not like it was on the way here. Do Elves' lights fortell their beings inside?"
Strider returned the Hobbit's worried look with one of his own. "Pipping, Legolas is a woodland creature, a Sindarin Elf. They are a kind sensitive, and open to the land. Here, in these caves, he is cut off from such friendships and I fear he is suffering from that severing. I have been in these dwellings before with him. Our last encounter was not a happy one."
"Really?" Pippin looked genuinely interested. "Is it a story to tell to pass the time?"
"No, perhaps not now." He ruffled the Hobbit's straggly hair. "I think it best if you eat though. And speak not of what you see with the Elf. I will talk to him."
"Thank you Strider," and Pippin went to join his comrades.
The Ranger went then in search of his Elven brother. He passed Gimli and the Istari in deep conversation, perhaps speaking about grander days within the halls of Khazad-dûm. Gandalf nodded to him as he passed, then paused and tilted his head in a northward direction, as if to give aid in his search for the Elf.
Ah, indeed Gandalf has noticed the Prince's meloncholy as well.
He found the Elf near a ledge. He sat with his back against a stone wall, his bow clutched between white knuckles, his eyes closed.
Closed.
Panic set in with Strider. Elves did not close their eyes unless heavily fatigued or wounded. Or dead.
He was beside his brother within seconds, his hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Mellon-nîn?" his voice was harsh but low.
The Prince's demeanor changed and he started away at the Ranger's touch.
I have startled him! How can this be? I have never startled Legolas, not in the years I have known him.
"Estel?" Legolas' voice was thick, sluggish. He blinked several times as he focused on the Ranger.
"Are you ill?" He peered into the Elf's bright blue eyes.
But Legolas pushed him away with tightly reigned strength. "I am fine. Why do you find it necessary to hawk to me like a mother to her chiks?"
"Because you act like a wounded lamb." The words left Strider's mouth before he could stop them. Truth spoken in angered responses were not always the best to say or to hear. But it was done.
The Prince of Mirkwood glared at the man, but he did not retort. Instead he looked away and held tighter to his bow. "I am fine."
"Such lies are becoming tiresome, my friend." He reached out and put a hand on Legolas' wrist. The Elf tried to pull away, but the Ranger held him tight. "You will speak to me. Now. Before we take another step into this dark place. I know not what it is that haunts your soul, nor have you given me two words to help you."
"I'm –"
"Do not speak to me in lies again, Legolas Greenleaf." Strider's patience was tested now as it had never been with his dearest and oldest friend. He looked hard into the Elf's eyes and saw despair and grief. "Have you lost something? Has something befallen you? An illness? Some ailment I can help in easing?"
Elves were of a strong mettle, and not easily given to the frailties granted to men. But the Ranger had seen his friend wounded enough times and sickened to know that Legolas was disheartened by something deeper than his old fears of enclosed places.
Legoals tried to pull his hand free again, but was stopped by Strider. "Pleasedo not ask this of me."
The Elf's voice was almost pleading. Strider released the delicate wrist and sat back. Indeed, Pippin had been right in that the elven light was diminished. Though they had only walked into the mines for half a day's journey, and had many more miles to trudge, the light of the ethereal should not have waned so quickly.
"Legolas," he shook his head. "I am your brother – and your friend. Can you not speak to me? Can you not help me to help you?" He pursed his lips and rubbed at the stubble of his chin. "Is the old fear of this place?"
At first he believed the Elf might lie, which was an act that went against all that the Valar had created the First Born. But with a breath's spanse, the Prince gave a small shake of his head. "I – I do feel the walls surrounding me. I feel their pressure. I feel totally without purpose here in this darkness. I have a weakness, that you know of in me. I feel I am" but he did not finish and looked away.
"Legolasplease," the Ranger leaned forward to his friend.
Gandalf' voice broke the small space of silence. Strider turned in the direction of he voice and saw beside the closest jut of the cave's wall where Pippin had been listening in and watching. The small Hobbit's retreat did not go unnoticed and Strider promised himself a word with the small creature as soon as possible.
But when he turned again, Legolas was gone.
They traveled for many more hours, climbing the steepest of stairs where Legolas found himself aiding in keeping Pippin and Merry on their feet. His own footing was sure and unhindered, yet the Hobbit's balance was not meant for vertical steps. The ghastly remains of battle scattered about did nothing to help them as swords, arrows and helms bearing the staring skulls of the dead glared back at them all.
The Elven Prince moved with the surety of his race – unafraid of such things – knowing there were little more than remains of the dead, their spirits having flown long ago. He oddly wondered where the souls of the Orcs, those turned Elves of long ago, flew to when their prisons of twisted bodies here were severed.
Pippin took his hand abruptly, pulling Legolas from his mind's meandering. Curse myself. That is the third time I have lost my mind in thought of curious questions. I must stay alert and help. I have a duty being here – and I must prove to my father I as not ill in my decision to be a part of something greater.
And in the end, that was it, wasn't it? You worry about what your father believes.
No.
I worry about what Arwen will say if I allow Aragorn to die. Or if I fail in protecting them all.
On and on his thoughts bantered about in his mind until the chatter would drive him insane. Was this how an Elf's mind would keep itself from the worry of the outside world? And what of Strider?
It pained the Elf to remember his friend's look of concern. Estel did not, and could not understand what is was that the Prince faced. So much rested on his shoulders, and he though he wanted more than anything to share that burden, he could not.
It is for Strider I do this. For Arwen. For the Company. And for my Father, whether he believes it or not.
And for this he would strain their friendship even further, until one day perhaps they could discuss this journey and look back upon it over wine. Dreams. All of it dreams. And I am a fool.
It was then at the top of one of the stairs that their party stopped. Gandalf had come up short, his staff held high. Before him there lay a fork of three directions, each as dimly lit as the other. The Istari looked from one to the other.
Legolas steadied Pippin beside him, then lept nimbly from rock to ledge to peer into the forks. What was it Mithrandir saw?
Or perhaps, did not see?
Finally the gray old Wizard shook his head and muttered, "I have no memory of this place."
TBC