Thank all of your for your amazing reviews, I was honored that you all took the time to read this story. I don't know what it is about those two, but they always seem to get into trouble…A quick note, thank you for your reviews. I have done a bit of research on that particular topic and have come to the conclusion that it is entirely feasible. For the purposes of my Story, Legolas is just over 2600 and the twins a bit older than him. Compared to their father, grandparents, and Glorfindel they are quite young. As for Aragorn, who was 49 when this story takes place, he is still rather young (for him anyways) since he lived to about 200 (Im not exact with this) he hasn't even reached half his life. Not to mention he grew up around elves, who most likely thought of him as very young. And even adults will call each other by sometimes childish nicknames. I will not be using much of "Prissy elf" and "Stubborn human." But is possible. Also, how did you know that Elladan and Elrohir were coming?

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Gone, gone, gone, it was an insistent chant running through his head. Gone, gone, gone…In the distance Aragorn could hear the songs of the Rohirrim, the general call of "Steelsheen!' running through the air.

Legolas. Was. Gone.

The brown grass swayed gently in the wind, causing a faint, swish sound. The only sound besides the fluttering of the little piece of paper. Swish, swish. The paper, his eyes widened. A…note? Why would Legolas leave him a note? He didn't leave you, he was captured. He reached out a hand and picked up the note, surprised at the slight tremble. Stop panicking! He told himself, oh yes, let's not panicked, he's only drugged and vomiting, no big deal. He took several deep breaths, he needed to calm himself and he needed to do it now.

His eyes looked at the flowing script; he had to read it a few times before he could comprehend.

Ranger,

Estel to the elves, Strider to the Dunedain, Thorongil in the west. And what, I wonder, to this elf. Indeed, he appears to mean much to you, but in his…state he was not much of a worthy opponent. Elves, I have always hoped, are skilled in battle, and I would like to see what this one can do. Ah, now we have something to think about. Why do I want the elf? An excellent question, one I could…or rather should answer. But where would be the fun in giving you all the answers now? I can always give them to you later. I have heard you are excellent at tracking, this intrigues me.I have been following you, ranger, I think that my challenge is worthy of your expertise. I would even go so far to say that it might even stump you at points, yes. Yes, I daresay it will. Your elven friend, Legolas, I believe his name to be, will not be harmed…Well, not yet anyway. Can you find him? For his sake I hope, follow the trail. You have two weeks ranger.

Godéad

Aragorn's fists clenched in fury, his eyes burned with a fire. Heoru would pa. For that he was sure. No one, absolutely no one who had helped this along would escape. He ran a hand through his hair, he would leave tomorrow. He would inform the king and Queen tonight, and leave in the morning. He turned and walked back inside, blanket and water forgotten on the brown grass of Rohan's plains.

The inside of the halls still rang with happiness, couples danced slowly to the music of the band. Dresses of red and green and blue swirled together in an endless blur. Woman and men alike jumped to the side to avoid being trampled by their once good-tempered captain. Some mused that he looked older, others said he looked deadly. Both were right, and as another man back away just in time to avoid collision they noted he was set on a path towards their King and Queen.

"King Thengel, Queen Morwen," he said with barely concealed impatience. Thengel fixed him with a smile, as if daring him to be unhappy on a joyous night. Morwen smiled with slightly less…accusation in her gaze.

"What is wrong Captain Thorongil?"

"I must take my leave in the morning, my queen," he replied softly.

"Why ever would you do that? You were supposed to stay on for another week!" the king said.

"Something has come up, my lord; I mean no offense to you or your house."

"I am certain you don't, but what has come up that is so important, captain?"

"My dear friend has been taken, and I need to go after him, I need to leave as soon as is possible, my lord."

"You may not leave, and I say that not out of spite, but for concern of your safety. I shall send my best warriors out at dawn, but you may not go." Aragorn was, for lack of a better word, fuming.

This was madness, his closest friend was in danger, and Thengel wouldn't let him go because he didn't want to lose his best captain? Several backwards counts of ten later he felt it was safe to speak.

"It is nice of you to be concerned, King Thengel, but I will be leaving on the morrow, with or without your blessing." The King's eyes narrowed, a hot-tempered man when angry, he did not like the challenge in his Captain's voice.

"If I must I will command you to remain, do not make me, Captain Thorongil, I have considered you a friend, and most trusted advisor, and I will not suffer you to die for an elf."

"So the prejudice of Rohan rears its ugly head," Aragorn hissed, not bothering to hold his tongue. Morwen watched it all with detached interest.

"Hold your tongue in the presence of a King, Captain."

"If this is how a King behaves then I shall not keep silent, we spoke as friends once, do not make me your enemy."

"The life of my finest captain is not worth an elf, why you like them I will never understand, be gone from my sight, and I wish not to see you till tomorrow."

"One can only hope your son will take after his mother," Aragorn snapped, spinning on his heel and marching off. Morwen looked at her husband.

"What was the point of that, Thengel?"

"Be silent," he snapped. Morwen raised an eyebrow, not the least intimidated by the glare that would have caused plants to wither.

"I shall pardon you, my dear, for Thorongil will not forgive you in the near future."

"A woman should hold her tongue and her opinions!" Thengel raged. Morwen stood up.

"I am not that woman, my lord, and I thought that is why you married me. Do not look for me tonight, my husband, for you shall not find me!" The Queen had a temper on her that would have put a dwarf to shame, and while it was hard to flare up, once she was angry she remained so. Her eyes were dark orbs as she strode away. Thengel glared after her, waiting a few moments to excuse himself, Théoden watched with a raised eyebrow, chuckling slightly.

"That is how you must be, Théodwyn, hot tempered like mother, or else you shall never teach your husband his rightful place," he smiled wryly at the child in his lap. "Come, little one, we shall go, it appears the royal family is leaving this ball."

"I don't want to go back to Eowine! She doesn't like me!" the child said stubbornly. Théoden grinned happily at her.

"And that, dear Princess, is why you need to be like mother!" he told her, swooping her up into the air. "How about a walk then? You should like that!"

"Very much!"

Far away from Rohan however, one being was very unhappy.

---&---

The first thing he was aware of was a pounding headache. He dazedly wondered why the Oliphant who was sitting on top of his head felt the need to trumpet into his ear. Legolas blinked and opened his eyes, deciding almost immediately it had been a stupid idea. After all, the light was really painful, and the darkness seemed more comfortable. Apparently though, the Mumakil on his head had other ideas, lots of them. He moaned.

"The elf is awake!" someone said, a mite to loudly if you asked the elf prince. Then again, it wasn't like anyone was asking him.

The light was back. Legolas was debating the pros and cons of telling Aragorn exactly why he needed to close whatever it was that the light was coming through when he realized something. Aragorn never referred to him as "the elf" even when he was angry or sarcastic. Yes, he decided, the darkness is much more appealing; I think I'll go back there now….It seemed though, that the human who was most defiantly not Aragorn had a different plan. Legolas mused that everyone including the Mumakil (who he had began to call Alvist due to the fact he was "not straying" from his head) had different ideas that day.

"Elf, I asked you a question!" someone said with a firm kick to his ribs.

"I would be more inclined to answer if you stopped kicking me," Legolas snapped. He was getting far too much like Aragorn; perhaps the human was rubbing off on him…

Shoving his mind away from that decidedly unpleasant thought he sat up and squinted at the man. He was tall with dirty dark brown hair and a pale face. His eyes were an unnerving green color as he smiled down at the elf from the chair he sat on.

"Hello, Master elf. Or, would you prefer Prince Legolas?" he smiled, or rather sneered.

"I don't know what you are talking about human, my prince is safe in Mirkwood," Legolas replied uneasily.

"No, he is right in front of me, but we can play your game. I suppose you would like to know my name?"

"If it's half as slimy as you are then no, I wouldn't," the elf replied icily.

"I am Naerdor, younger brother of…" he paused, "it doesn't really matter, but I suppose I should tell you. Younger brother of Godéad."

"Your name is elvish, his is Rohirric," Legolas commented, wondering exactly what was so pitiable about this man.

"You are most observant, elf, indeed. My mother was from Lake-town, she insisted one of us be named in her "favorite" language. It was all a joke, my brother and father never told me my real name." His face hardened again. "I will tell you right now, elf, that I do not enjoy hurting people, but my brother, and his…Captain, Cairdor, and his lieutenant who is Cairdor's sister…Caireth. They do, they will not hesitate to beat you, or torture you do you not follow their rules. They are ruthless, the both of them." He stood up and wiped his hands on his pants, his dirty, blue tunic hung loosely about his thin frame.

"Naerdor, why am I here?"

"We do not need you elf, we only need the ranger, remember that, you are nothing more than bait."

Legolas watched him walk out of the tent, his face twisting in fury and fear. Aragorn was coming, Valar, no.

---&---

Aragorn was angry. No, he wasn't angry, he was far past angry, he was nothing short of livid, and probably more than that. And it didn't impress the servant who was trying to make him eat dinner.

"No, thank you," he ground out through his teeth.

"My Lord, please, the King gave me strict orders to make you eat."

"My girl, please go, I am not in the mood to handle this!" he all but begged.

"Tho-ron-gil?" the carefully pronounced version of his name caused him to turn around, Théoden stood in his door holding his sister, who appeared to be crying.

"Dismissed, Cururoch," the young prince said quietly. The maid muttered something under her breath as she left. Aragorn smiled wryly.

"I have never been happier to see you, Prince Théoden."

"It is my sister you have to thank for that," the young man replied, depositing the squirming girl into the captain's arms.

Aragorn looked at the little child, who was apparently refusing to look him in the eye. Her straw hair was matted and her tiny face was red and covered in tears. The rest of her was pale and shivering.

"What's wrong little one?"

"We went on a walk, and I saw men, they had…had...L'glas!" Aragorn's eyes narrowed but he smiled at the child encouragingly.

"Go on."

"He was struggling and crying out in elvish it sounded like this: Estel, he sounded scared!" Aragorn closed his eyes briefly, his friend, in the hands of strange men, calling his name, and he hadn't been there. He was too late, he was always too late.

"Thank you, princess; go with your brother now." The two children left and Aragorn leaned back on his bed. He was decided, he would be leaving that night, whether or not the king allowed him.

It was dark, late, and everyone in the halls of Rohan was asleep. Aragorn silently dressed and grabbed his pack, taking care to grab an extra cloak; he had no idea what condition he was going to find the elf in. The halls were mostly silent as he walked slowly through the dark halls. The occasional scurry of servants rang through the halls. He was halfway through the main corridor when he heard something, a moment to late. The cold steal of a blade was pressed against his throat.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I am getting a bad influence from Siri and Sarah! I really should stop with these cliffies…I hear they are bad for ones health…

So, I posted two days earlier than scheduled, unfortunately I think the quality rather suffered for it. I post once every three days usually. So, see you in three days. Review…please? Oh, and if you can guess who has the blade you get a virtual cookie!