Chapter 6

The woods were relatively quiet as the rain subsided and the wind did not stir. During the later hours of the night, the eerie, yet common call of a great owl drifted through the trees as the wise creature patrolled the area in search of a meal. Off in the distance, a chorus of coyotes barked and sang as they bonded and bickered over rank within their pecking order. The playful sequels sounded like joyous laughter as they had the woods to themselves for the night.

Gimli sat on an old decaying log that he had pulled from the forest and placed near the fire to make a comfortable perch to take his watch. He retrieved his pipe to give him some occupying activity to keep him awake and alert and he lazily blew smoke rings into the still air. He refused to wake the man to take his watch as the dwarf did not feel the urgency to rest like Aragorn did. So Gimli kept vigil over the camp through the whole night.

Legolas was also up as he had never rested to begin with. He had not moved since being seated on the bedding and he watched the small fire with a distant gaze. His thoughts turned inward, but was unsure how he felt at the moment. Some small part of him knew he was dying inside, but another part was simply too overwhelmed to care much. He glanced at the dwarf and watched with no real interest as Gimli concentrated on blowing smoke rings in the same fashion Gandalf used to.

The two did not speak; the dwarf was hoping that the boring atmosphere would induce his friend into sleep, but as the hours dragged on, the elf remained awake despite Gimli's hopes. At last, the dwarf could no longer stand the silence and he broke into idle conversation.

"So Laddie, how do things in Ithilien go?" the dwarf asked softly. It was a pitiful start to a conversation, but the dwarf struggled with topics and this one was broad enough to let it expand beyond work.

The elf jerked slightly at the sudden voice.

"What?" he asked. Legolas heard the voice though he did not catch a word of the dwarf's meaning. Gimli smiled as he took another puff of his pipe.

"Your work in Ithilien, how does it fare? It's been a few months since we saw each other an' the last time we had talked, I remember you were working hard, but there was a lot left ta' do."

Legolas looked to the fire as he thought. He knew what the dwarf was doing; giving him something to think about and distract him from his misery. His response was not immediate, but with a sigh, Legolas gave into the discourse. He did not really feel like talking, but he answered the dwarf's question regardless.

"There is still a lot of work to be done... but the woods are slowly being rebuilt and are growing with new life."

Gimli nodded as the elf spoke. He reached for his tobacco pouch and began to refill the clay bowl with the pungent dried leaves.

"An' how do ya' like it there?" Gimli pressed. Legolas drew in another deep breath finding that he had to battle against a wave of depression as he spoke. He did not know if this perception came out of nowhere or he had failed to notice its hold on himself until now. Regardless, he worked hard to push his way past the thickness that was starting to swamp him.

"It is a fine enough place," he said matter-of-factly.

"But?" the dwarf chimed in as he struck a match and held it to the pipe to begin the slow smoky charring of the new tightly packed shag.

"But what?"

"Ya' don't like it there?"

"I did not say that."

"Ya' did not say it, but it sounded that way," the dwarf puffed vigorously until a fresh stream of smoke was pulled through the stem of the pipe. With another sigh the elf responded.

"I do find Ithilien to be beautiful, but as I said, there is much more work to be done." The elf looked to the dwarf with a ghost of a smile, doing his best to keep the chatter light. He did not want to get into conversing about feelings, especially when his were so horribly upsetting. The elf switched the focus and steered the conversation away from himself. "And how about you, Master Dwarf? How do things fair in Aglarond?"

Just as the prince had hoped, Gimli took the bait. The dwarf went on to talk about everything and nothing. He boasted about the Glittering Caves and how the stone work had been beautifully restored. Dwarves from all around came to help and many of them stayed on to make a new life for themselves. Gimli talked about the good fortunes from the earth and how much gold, silver and mithril were found within the adjacent caverns and beauteous crystallized rock formations found underground. He went on to talk about the various battles he had with the last of the orcs and goblins of the area and how the dwarves fought with pride and courage as they slaughtered the fell creatures while every dwarf was able to walk away from the fight.

Gimli wove story after story and Legolas sat quietly as the dwarf rambled on. The elf did not hear much of the stories Gimli told, but was content simply listening to the thick merry voice as it drove back the heartache that plagued him. The prince was finally starting to relax and he began to stare off as his eyes sought the flames.

Somewhere nearby, a twig snapped in the darkened forest. The dwarf was still talking away, but the elf picked it up even in his detached state.

"Did you hear that?" The elf interrupted the dwarf as Gimli was still going on with his tales.

"Hear what?" the dwarf asked.

The elf put a finger against the scabbed split in his lip to hush the dwarf as he listened. The forest was completely silent; the owl did not speak and cries from the coyotes no longer filled the air.

Something was wrong.

The two did not make a sound for a while and they concentrated on the forest, straining to hear something - anything.

"It could just be th' forest playin' tricks on you. You're awfully weary. Perhaps you're hearin' things," the dwarf suggested.

The elf did not comment as he looked out into the pitch-dark woods. He could not see much further than the ring of light that the small fire gave off and he began to feel uneasy as the silence stretched on.

"Nay, Gimli... Something is not right... I can feel it."

"Lad, ya' haven't felt right for some-" the dwarf halted his words as another twig snapped in another portion of the woods and this time he heard it. Gimli looked to the elf questioningly as they both kept silent and still.

"I'm gonna have a look..." The dwarf rose from his seat while he put his helmet on and grabbed his ax as he left the campsite to make his patrol.

Legolas watched the dwarf wander off into the woods. Once left alone, his uneasiness grew and the elf began to look for his own weapons. Aragorn had placed them a small distance away and the prince stiffly got to his feet and headed towards them.

"Strider..." the elf called out to try and rouse the man while he crouched to gather his quiver and knives.

"Stri-" Legolas attempted to say, but choked his words off quickly when a blade slipped from the shadows and slid under his chin. The prince's heart lurched in his chest.

"I would not do that if I were you," a low voice said. A man stepped forward and pressed the tip of the blade against the elf's throat, cutting off any type of resistance as he did so. "Drop your weapons. Get up," the stranger commanded.

Legolas's heart was pounding and he prayed the drumming in his own ears was loud enough to wake Aragorn. He gulped, trying to force his fear down so he could think clearly, but it was proving to be useless as he panted in shortened breaths. The inky silhouette of the man before him did little to help and the elf closed his eyes briefly as the bite of the sword could be felt upon his pulse point with each erratic heartbeat.

He opened his eyes again only to catch in his peripheral vision that another man had emerged out of the forest. He too carried a sword and the second stranger took his position in front of the ranger, pointing the blade over Aragorn's heart. However, he did not move any more than that. He seemed to be waiting for further orders and looked to the man who kept the elf detained.

Legolas' captor spoke once more. His voice was low so as not to wake Aragorn, but the harsh tone was clearly heard and the elf knew the man meant business.

"I said get up. If you put up any fight or make any sudden move, he-" the man pointed to Aragorn "-is dead. You got that?"

Terror was coursing thoruhg his veins, but reluctantly, Legolas dropped his weapons. He held his hands out to show that he was surrendering despite the screaming warning that was churning deep within himself.

"Who are you, what do you want?" the elf whispered. His voice was surprisingly level and calm which belied the extremity of his situation.

"Shut up." The man was quickly becoming agitated. "Stand." He turned the blade so the razor sharp edge was resting under the elf's chin and applied pressure, causing the blade to lightly bite into the soft skin. Legolas was forced to stand or else he would be cut.

Once the elf was standing, the man quickly rounded Legolas and threw his arm around the prince's chest while the blade ran perpendicular to his throat, causing the prince to have to hold his head painfully high to avoid a lethal cut. Terror in Legolas only deepend at not only being touched by the stranger, but now being held captive by him too.

"Walk." the man commanded and began pushing the prince with his own body when the elf refused to move.

A shrill cry pierced the air and everyone froze. The shout was quickly followed by the clanking of metal-on-metal as a brawl erupted a short distance away.

Legolas had heard that cry before and his stomach dropped. Gimli had been found and was now locked in battle, fighting for his life.

The alarming noise in the forest caused Aragorn to stir and he grunted as he was pulled from his deep slumber.

Legolas sensed his only opportunity to warn his friend and he opened his mouth to shout to Aragorn, but the man behind him felt the sharp intake of breath and quickly covered the elf's mouth with his hand to halt the warning.

Pressure from the man's sword was now at the elf's jugular, squashing Legolas' fight only briefly, but the elf dug his heels into the earth in an attempt to stop the forward motion to no avail. The man behind him simply threw the elf off balance and practically dragged the slender prince out into the woods.

Legolas began to thrash as he was taken away, no longer caring if the blade at his neck killed him. He would rather die than be taken captive for a second time. He would not be overcome again.

The stranger proved to have the upper hand and the elf struggled to get back on balance. But in the dark, the man did not see the twisted tree root sticking out of the ground. He tripped, sending them both tumbling to the earth.

The man jolted as he hit the ground and lost his hold on both the elf and his blade. The instant Legolas was dropped, he rolled to the side to try and break free. He did not get far as the man twisted to his side and whipped his hand out, catching the collar of the elf's shirt and giving a powerful yank to pull the elf back towards himself. The man tried to curl over the elf in an attempt to pin him to the earth with his weight, but the lithe body slipped from his grasp and the man had to quickly shift and find a new way to hold the struggling elf.

The man caught one of the elf's wrists, pulling back to regain control. Legolas winced at the pull on his arm and the renewed burning sensation that flared up in his shoulders. He had no time to recover from his previous captivity and fought only as well as his body could manage, but to the graceful elf, his struggles were pathetic.

The prince balled his free fist and threw a quick but clumsy punch at the man who was holding him, causing the man to release his hold.

The prince was on his feet in an instant, but his strike from before lacked its usual strength. The man only had to recover from his annoyance at nearly losing his hold and before the elf could take a step, the man swung his foot out and kicked the elf's legs out from under him.

Legolas fell back to the ground, catching his descent on his fingertips, but it didn't matter. The man was prepared for the elf and when Legolas fell closer to the ground, he let his own fist fly. The man's knuckles connected with the prince's jaw and he knocked the elf to the earth with a thud.

The stunned prince could not move as his hazy mind grappled with rationality. Someone stood over him and delivered a swift kick to his stomach, forcing all of the air from his lungs in a breathless cry of agony. A second kick was sent into his chest for added measure and all the reeling elf could do was try to curl in on himself as he struggled to breathe, but a third drive caught his stomach once again and hazy spots exploded before the prince's vision.

He was not aware when the man straddled him, nor did it register with the elf that his wrists were gathered and pushed over his head. The elf's lungs were starved for air and his body's need for oxygen took control of his concentration, but his captor bore his weight down upon the prince, further impeding his breathing as he ensured the elf could not move and get away.

"Gimli!" the elf tried to yell out, but his voice was barely audible with his lack of breath. He tried to call out again, the panicking elf was desperate.

Legolas began to twist his wrists, his terror giving him some energy to renew his fight, but the man gathered both slender wrists in one hand and brought his the other one down in a hard punch to the elf's skull, further dazing the prince.

Quickly, the man covered the elf's mouth with his hand to keep him silent. He cursed as he looked around the forest. He needed help if he ever hoped to successfully capture this elf.

"Keither!" the man gave a quick shout as he called for another from his company. It wasn't long before someone came to his aid. A young man was a few paces away trying to find his comrade in the pitch-black forest. He could hear the muffled cries of the elf as he struggled, but could not see anything.

"Jankins?" the man asked. "Jankins! Where are you?"

"Over here!" Jankins responded. Keither found the two and assessed the situation quickly. He dropped by the prince's head and took control of the elf's hands.

"Bind him. Elves are tricky and dangerous. I don't want him to get away," Jankins ordered.

Keither pulled a length of rope from his pocket and tied the elf's wrists tightly together before he stood to his feet. He placed a booted foot on top of the wrists and leaned his weight on them to keep them in their position. The man looked at Jankins in surprise as he had to apply more pressure to keep the elf from breaking free. Legolas did not look that strong, but he was. The stunning blow was starting to wear off and the elf started struggling wildly to throw his captor off of him.

"Feisty fellow, isn't he?" Keither noted. The elf's cries were becoming more desperate as he tried to call out around the hand that was pressed to his mouth. Keither then pulled out a rag with another length of rope.

"Here..." Keither crouched once again, never taking his foot off of the elf's bound wrists, and pushed Jenkins' hands out of the way. Legolas let out a cry for help as Jenkins sat back on the elf's thighs, but the man stepping on his wrists pushed a rag into his mouth, cutting off the alarm with the choking material. A small length of rope was then pushed between the elf's lips to hold the material in place. It was quickly tied off at the back of his head.

Keither smiled at his handy work and looked to Jankins.

"So... *this* is an elf?" he asked.

Jankins nodded as he smiled back to his friend.

"Don't tell me you've never seen an elf before?"

"No, I was scarcely a teenager before the War of the Ring was over and always stayed close to home until I was of age. From what I have been told, all elves left Middle Earth once the war was over... Are you sure this is an elf?" he asked again as he eyed the being pinned to the ground skeptically.

"Not all elves left. Some are still here, but they are rare. Here, take a look..." Jankins grabbed Legolas' chin and roughly shoved it to the side. He brushed the blond hair back, exposing a gracefully pointed ear that was unique to the race of elves. Keither's eyes went wide with wonder as he looked at the being beneath him.

"So he is an elf..." he mused. The man reached out to grab the pointed ear and rolled the cartilage between his fingers as he inspected the ear, making sure what he saw was in fact real and not a trick.

Dread surged through Legolas at the loathsome touch and he renewed his struggles with ferocity. Both men scowled before Jankins brought his fist down into the elf's stomach again, driving the air from his lungs once more and leaving the elf motionless.

"What the hell happened to it?" Keither scowled, mildly disgusted by the large scabbed wound to his temples and the bruises that covered the elf's pale face.

"No idea. He was pretty roughed up the last time I saw him in town." Jankins replied with disinterest as he straightened up and continued to straddle the elf. "What's going on over there?" The man inclined his head in the dark to the camp a small distance away. "Are they dead yet?" he asked as he looked to Keither.

"I do not know. I heard you call for me so I came running. I checked the borders, I do not see anyone else. It's just the man and dwarf."

Jankins nodded.

The two remained still despite the struggling elf beneath them and they kept quiet, listening to the faint sounds of metal on metal as the rest of their group locked themselves in battle against the man and dwarf. Eventually, the noise dissipated and the last metal ring flew through the forest as someone let out a pained cry that rose and fell before the forest fell into complete silence.

"Go help them with the bodies." Jankins shrugged toward the campsite and Keither stood to head off. "I'll stay with this one. Do you have anything to stake his hands to the ground?"

Keither checked his person for any item he could use to drive into the ground. The only thing that would work was a long hunting knife at his side and he pulled it from his sheath only to drive it into the ground between the elf's wrists. The broad hilt of the knife came to rest against the ropes restraining the elf and he stood back a pace, watching as the elf pulled against the makeshift stake with failed attempts to become free.

"I'll gather the men and bring them here." Keither said as he walked off.

"Hey, bring all of their belongings too. Elvish weapons will fetch a pretty penny and I'm sure that ax the dwarf had can be worth something."

"How do you want us to discard the bodies?"

"Just dump them in the brush to keep them from sight. Dawn is just a few hours away, I want to be well away from here by then."

With that, Keither turned on his heels and headed off to round up his companions.

Jankins turned his attention back to the elf, who fought against his restraints. Legolas pushed and pulled against the blade holding him, his position only giving him slight margins to move. Jankins was far too preoccupied in his lustful greed to notice the blade starting to wiggle as the prince used every ounce of his strength to rock his wrists against it.

"Your companions so rudely interrupted our time together the other night. I paid for ten minutes… No matter, those murderers you've been with have had the favor returned… Your masters are dead too. I guess… I can claim you." a dark smile curled the man's lips. "Should I take my time now?" he teased with a smug sneer and pulled at the elf's shirt, easily popping the clasps that held the fabric closed.

Gimli walked off into the tree line to scout the forest. He had to admit it, the elf was right; there was something going on and even now, the dwarf could feel the uncomfortable aura surrounding them.

The light from the fire was soon blocked out by the thick cluster of growth and the dwarf's steps became more hesitant as he could hardly see in the dark forest. As Gimli pressed onward, he pushed himself between two trees and ducked under a tangle of thorny vines.

Suddenly, a swish sounded in the air as a sword arched by his face, trying to cut his head off. The dwarf dropped to the forest floor not a moment too soon and the thick blade clipped the top of his helmet lightly.

Gimli rolled to the side and with unusual grace for a dwarf, he was back on his feet. He could see the dark figure of some unknown person holding a sword with the tip pointed at him, but had no time to try and make out any features of the person. The stranger's blade was set in motion and the man slashed down, trying to strike him.

Gimli gripped his ax lengthwise and lifted the handle over his head which caught the razor-sharp blade. The weapons connected and the broadsword slid down the length of the handle and slammed into the dwarf's thickly gloved fist. Gimli's hand was pushed away and the ax he held slipped from his grasp slightly.

He tightened his other hand on the metal handle near the ax's blade and swung the handle out in an attempt to drive his attacker back. As the stranger stepped away, the dwarf advanced and spun the ax's handle in a quick tight circle within his palm to reposition his grip on the weapon.

The stranger swung at the dwarf from all angles and the stout being blocked each blow with accuracy. In a split second, an opportune moment arose and the dwarf took the open stance of his opponent to his advantage. With a mighty battle cry, he cleaved his ax against his attacker. The force of the blow knocked the man off of his feet and he landed motionless a few paces away.

The dwarf advanced and checked the man to make sure he was dead. As he crouched over the prostrate form, new noises began from the direction of camp as a fight broke out. Gimli wasted no time and ran as fast as he could back to the camp site.

He spilled into the area and took in the situation. Aragorn was on his feet fighting two men at the same time. The dwarf picked one out as his new target and began his advancement when another man ran into the clearing and locked his sights on the dwarf. Gimli turned to face his new foe and they erupted in a fierce brawl.

Aragorn was holding his own against the two men, but backed up a few paces as he began to lose his ground. He was concentrating on the flying blades aiming for his vital areas rather than where he was stepping. His feet suddenly became snared by odd leather straps on the ground and he fell hard to the forest floor. As the man fell, one of his opponents kicked his hand, sending his sword flying out of his grasp while simultaneously a tip of a blade pointed at his chest.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Aragorn caught sight of what tripped him; it was Legolas' quiver. He quickly rolled to the side and grabbed the twin knives out of the scabbards as he continued his momentum. He scrambled to his feet holding both weapons out in front of him. The attackers seemed to be slightly deterred as they watched the man with two weapons instead of one.

Aragorn felt awkward with the unfamiliar knives in his hands. He was a very skilled fighter and could make use out of any weapon, but he always preferred to fight with a long sword, rather than two short knives. A quick thought came to mind and he noted how skilled his friend actually was. He already knew Legolas was a battle-hardened warrior whose fighting skills were sharper and more precise than even his own, but now that he was in Legolas' shoes so to speak, he found that the prince had to be in dangerously close proximity to his targets in order to take them down and the man was in awe.

One man made a sudden move and the ex-ranger thrust the left knife out to catch the attack. He was not well prepared and his less dominant hand lost its grip on the short weapon as the force of the blow sent the knife flying from his grip. Aragorn backed up a pace and placed the last knife in front of him as though it were his own massive sword.

Aragorn took a few steps back and he was pushed up against the trunk of a thick tree. One of the men pushed the sword forward while the other slashed his weapon down. Aragorn ducked and spun away as one weapon missed everything completely and the other was hefted into the thick trunk of the tree and became stuck.

Aragorn pushed himself forward and swung at the foe who still held his sword. He knew he had the man dead in his sights and he thrust and cut at his attacker. His eyes went wide as the man he was intending to bring down stood before him completely unharmed. The knife was far shorter than his sword and Aragorn succeeded in cutting the air and missed his target.

Aragorn took up the battle again and stepped closer yet. The stranger brought his sword down upon Aragorn, but the king caught the hefty blade on the slim knife. In a blink of an eye, Aragorn brought his right leg up, his hand tightening around the handle of the curved elvish blade he always kept concealed in his boot. With a deft movement, the curved blade struck the soft flesh of the man's side and he fell away gripping his bleeding wound.

Aragorn ripped the blade out as the man fell back and turned swiftly on his heels to the man who freed his weapon from the tree and was rushing toward him. Aragorn threw Legolas' knife through the air and the blade tumbled end over end until it buried itself deep in his chest. The attacker was stopped instantly as he dropped to the forest floor without a sound.

Aragorn looked across the camp and found the dwarf locked in his own battle and Aragorn scrambled to find his sword. After a few moments of looking through the shadows, the king finally found his weapon and ran back to the dwarf.

Aragorn watched briefly; he knew he could not just jump in the fight as the dwarf was locked on his target and in the heat of battle, the dwarf could easily misjudge who was near him and take Aragorn out by mistake. He also didn't want to cause a lapse in concentration that could prove fatal to the dwarf. But it was not long before Gimli found the upper hand and cut his foe down. The man fell to the ground clutching the deep wound to his chest as he let out a pained yell before his eyes closed and he went still.

Both man and dwarf stood in the campsite catching their breath after the surprise attack. Aragorn bent over and placed his hands on his knees as he drew in deep breaths. The dwarf was checking over the bodies of the fallen men, making sure they were dead and posed no further threat.

The dwarf found one of the men Aragorn had cut down and saw the white handle of a familiar knife stick out of his chest. He looked around for the elf, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Legolas?!"

Aragorn straightened up and looked around.

"Legolas?!" the man called out and strained to hear a response. The forest was silent and dread began to fill his heart as he could not locate him.

The dwarf cursed as he could not find any trace of the prince or any sign of where he went.

"We've got to track him! Can you find any sign of him, Aragorn?" the dwarf called out as he walked to the edge of camp and looked to the ground.

Aragorn ran to his gear and slid his pack over his shoulder followed by his bow and quiver.

The forest began to crackle with sound as the quickened pace of heavy footfalls was heard running toward them. Aragorn tensed; elves did not make such noise so he knew whoever was approaching was not Legolas.

Aragorn stepped into the shadows and rounded a tree to better conceal himself. He found the dwarf doing the same and both watched as Keither emerged from the forest, pausing only briefly to take in the grizzly scene. His slain companions lay upon the ground and the man and dwarf they were tasked to kill were nowhere to be seen.

Keither inclined his head as he called out to the dark forest.

"Jankins!"

Aragorn and Gimli had no idea how many more men could be in the area, but a warning such as that could only prove to be fatal.

Gimli charged from the darkness, taking the man unaware. Before Keither could even pull his sword from its sheath, a hefty ax found its mark. The powerful blow from the sharp weapon silenced the man as it embedded in his chest and the man only fell to the earth when Gilmli wrenched the blade free from his body.

Gimli took off in the forest with Aragorn following only a few paces behind. Faint sounds of a struggle were starting to be picked up and they approached cautiously, since they had no visuals just yet.

"Let's not have any of that now, elfy. Sshhh." they could hear just beyond a close cluster of trees.

The moment they spotted Legolas, the events unfolded rather fast. At first, Jankins was straddling the elf, picking at the laces of the prince's trousers, but that all changed within a blink of an eye. A metallic flash glinted even in the dark forest as the elf finally heaved the blade from the earth. The prince twirled the blade clumsily in his bound hands to find a better grip on the blade before he deftly slashed the knife across Jankin's throat.

Blood instantly splattered across Legolas, but the elf did not cringe from it. Instead, the prince watched the man choke on his own gore, his own hostility turned his steely eyes dark with unhindered malice - The last sight that his captor would ever see.

Jankins sputtered until he finally slumped forward. His dead weight nearly crushed the elf beneath him, but Legolas was surprised to find the body abruptly rolling off of him.

He looked up to find Aragorn towing overhead, the heel of his boot shoving the limp body off of the prince. The blade of Aragorn's broadsword quickly located the tethers that ensnared the elf's wrists, severing the ties in a single cut.

Legolas bolted upright and ripped the gag out of his own mouth with one hand, the other still clenching the hunting knife. He threw the muzzles away with a disgusted shove, his seething mind now taunting him that this was the second time within mere hours that he had been captured…

Legolas' anger and frustration rose quickly as he smoldered and burned deep down. The elf's skilled fingers worked around the knife he still clutched, hastily retying the cording to his leggings, closing them off with a firm knot.

Aragorn quickly shifted his position so he was crouching in front of the prince and assessed the elf. Jankins' blood nearly drenched Legolas and Aragorn was half afraid that the blood belonged to the elf.

"Legolas, are you…hurt…" Aragorn started to ask, but the man stammered as Legolas glared at him. Never before had the ex-ranger seen the elf's features so malignant. The once good-natured prince now looked nearly feral, the slight glint in his eyes was nothing less than lethal. The knuckles of the prince's hand were blanching under the vice-like grip he had on the blade and Aragorn pulled back, unsure if Legolas truly saw him or not. "Legolas?"

"No." his voice was low on the single word, saturating the very air around them with his own disdain. He looked to his abductor now dead on the forest floor. The butchery sight only deepened his loathsom hatred for the man, the situation and for himself.

The blade in the elf's hands began to flicker under Legolas' taught frame as he began to tremble softly.

"Legolas," the man said gently to try and persuade the elf to calm down now that the danger seemed to be over, but the elf did not hear his own name. With slow and tender movements, the king reached out to the elf's shuddering fist, intending to disarm the elf he thought to be too irrational at this moment, but the slight brush of his fingers on the elf's knuckles caused Legolas to pull back as if the the contact burned his skin.

The blade instantly flew to Aragorn's throat, but the elf's precise ability stopped the motion, only resting the blade at his neck in a vicious warning. The king halted, stunned that his longtime friend was acting so hostile towards him. The dangerous look in the elf's eyes was now directed toward Aragorn and the man held his palms up to placate the virulent elf.

"Do *not* touch me," the prince snarled.

"Oh! Easy, Lad!" Gimli piped up at the sudden turn of events and took quick steps to interject, but it wasn't needed. The elf withdrew the blade with a swift flick of his wrist before he stood in a fluid motion. Without pause, he turned to the forest and marched off towards their base.

Aragorn and Gimli followed silently.

Legolas' pace was quick and he soon approached the camp. The once peaceful area was now disrupted and the elf froze as he took in the grisly scene. Four men were dead on the ground and it was evident that they did not go down easily. Blood was splattered around the entire camp and each man lay in a pool of their own gore. His quiver was tossed aside on the ground with his arrows strewn everywhere. One of his knives was embedded into the cavity of a man's chest, and the other was missing.

He made for his own weapon to reclaim it, but this path was obscured by Keither's dead body. As the prince stepped around him, the large gaping wound on his chest became visible, indicating Gimli was the one who fell him with a clean cut from his hefty ax.

Legolas paid little attention to the dead man as he passed, throwing the hunting knife that once belonged to the man at the lifeless, bloody, body. The weapon plunged deeply into the deceased, but the elf kept walking.

"This makes for a lousy stake." The elf factually said to the corpse as he passed.

The king and dwarf watched their companion from the edge of camp with worry. Legolas had alway been a skilled and respected warrior who dispatched his enemies quickly and efficiently. But gloating over the fallen, much less further mutaling his enemies' bodies, was not something the benevolent prince ever did.

The elf now walked as though he were in a trance. His movements were slow and smooth as he made his way to his protruding knife, wrenching it out of the man who lost his life upon the finely elven-etched blade. Legolas crouched to the ground, running the blade across the floor of dried pine needles to clean his weapon of the sanguine fluid that stined it. That done, he began to look for its twin.

Aragorn approached, holding out what the prince sought. Legolas avoided eye contact as he easily accepted the extension of his weapon. He stood again, now on the hunt for his quiver as he plucked the scattered arrows from the ground.

"Legolas…" Aragorn tried to call out again and the elf halted his movements at the sound of his name. "Please, you are covered in blood. Are you alright?" the pleading question begged for an answer..

"It is not mine." he offered simply before he turned back to his task.

Aragorn began to help. They both sank to the earth where a majority of the projectiles lay and the man reached for the long shafts as he eyed the elf. Legolas looked up only briefly, but the king was relieved to find the furry behind Legolas' eyes had diminished considerably.

"Greanleaf-" the man started to renew his worry now that he was practically afraid of the elf, but the prince cut him off knowing exactly what was going to be asked. He knew the man too well.

"I am fine, Strider," the elf sighed and the king could hear the honestly in the reproach. "I have no wish to stay anywhere near here. I am leaving."

Aragorn smiled sadly. "I know. I would not stay near here either. Just wait for us Legolas. We will need our supplies to make it back to the White City."

Legolas seemed to turn inward at the remark.

"I am going to Ithlien." the prince corrected and Aragonr's brows furrowed.

"That journey is going to take you nearly seven days to reach. Your trek will only put you a short distance away from Minas Tirith anyway and we are no more than two days away. Come with us, Legolas. You can not carry on much longer as is. Rest within my halls and when you are ready to venture home, I will see to it that you get there safely. I can not do that right now, not with the limited supplies we have."

"I have no wish to be trapped behind stone walls, Aragorn."

"Trapped?" the king questioned dofully. "What makes you think you will be trapped?"

The elf only looked off, not able to answer the question, but his heart sank at the thought of going into the heart of a human city. And Yet, Aragorn's logic could not be argued against either. Elven strong though he was, he had not regained any of his former strength back and he just proved his own inability to protect himself.

The last time he was lucky and he knew he didn't have much more left on his side.

Legolas gave the man a slight nod, agreeing to the plans Aragron just presented. But even as he said yes, an unexplainable dread started building in his core.

The two were interrupted by Gimli who held out a fist full of arrows and the elf's quiver. Legolas drew in a shaky breath to try and calm himself as he took the quiver and slung it over his shoulders. Aragorn helped replace the arrows he collected before turning back to the camp to round up their gear.

Within minutes, their belongings were collected, the bodies left where they lay and the trio made their way through the forest to continue their journey south.