A/N I have not written in a long time, nor ever for this fandom, but lockdown finds me retreating to the comfort of the Lord of the Rings universe again and I felt inspired to start writing something about our favourite ranger and elf. This will be fundamentally a story of friendship, as they carry each other through the challenges that await.

The first chapter is a bit more fluffy than I intend the rest of the story to be, as the story will deepen as the adventure progresses, but I hope it is a good start. Let me know what you think x

Chapter One

Anar shone bright in the sky, its golden rays glittering off the rooftops of Imladris, and off the faces of the ranger and elf-prince who were sat in the arms of an oak-tree therein.

"Much as I enjoy my father's company, I must confess I am glad he has left for Mirkwood, for I find I have more freedom to enjoy the pleasures of your beautiful city once official matters are concluded," said Legolas, a light smile gracing his delicate features.

Thranduil and his Royal Company had left in the afternoon of the previous day. While officially the prince had been left behind to "help Estel train in archery", in truth his father was hoping that time with the ranger would lift Legolas's spirits, which seemed to have grown heavy from the darkness haunting the land as of late.

"What, you don't enjoy sitting in council-meetings from dawn til dusk, trying to decipher ancient scriptures, and determine how we should respond to the wandering orc-hordes? Surely you jest, my friend, that is the peak of excitement!" Estel said, mirth apparent in his tone. However, his comment did not land as intended, as he saw the smile slip from his friend's face.

"While your remarks are amusing," the elf replied, with no discernible amusement, "they only remind me of the shadow - a shadow that has been growing for too long, and which for too long has remained nameless. There was a time when orcs and other such dark vermin would dare not wander the lands so freely. I wonder what emboldens them now to do so."

Legolas paused for a thoughtful moment, before continuing more brightly, "Ai, but let us not dwell on such matters! The day is bright, and I believe I heard Elrohir speak of a cherry-tree grove not far into the woods, whose berries are sweet and ripe for picking."

"I know the grove of which you speak," replied Estel. A villainous look appeared in his eyes, "and I know just how to get there."

With that, the ranger climbed higher into the oak, and leapt from a branch onto a nearby rooftop. He ran across the red tiles to the next courtyard, jumping to a tree therein, then another tree, then another roof. So natural did the movement come to him that he would have seemed indistinguishable from an elf to any mortal man, seeming to display the same grace and agility the Eldar were known for. However it was not mortal men by whom he was now perceived, and several elvish heads shook in disapproval at the loud steps clanging across their rooftops.

Legolas grinned and leapt quickly after his friend, his quieter footsteps following in a steady rhythm after Estel. The pair quickly found themselves in open forest just outside the city, where the elf continued to follow the man through the trees. After just over an hour's trek, when the glimmer of the red rooftops had faded from sight, they indeed came upon a stunning grove of trees. It was late enough in the summer that the trees were laden with sweet berries, and the ground was beginning to be painted with red juice from the overripe fruits that had already fallen.

"Ah, it is even more beautiful than Elrohir described. Had it been my discovery, I am not sure I would have been generous enough to share it so soon!"

"Are there not cherries here enough for many, elf? I thought princes were supposed to be generous and kind." Estel mock-chided the prince.

Legolas's only response was a melodious laugh which drifted lightly in the air, and he eagerly picked a handful of cherries to taste. They were delicious, with the bright sour tang characteristic of wild fruit. "I pier nar márar, Estel." The berries are good. The elf tossed three in quick succession towards his dark-haired friend. "Come, try them".

Estel reacted quickly - he caught the first two cherries in his hand, and made a move to catch the third directly in his mouth. Misjudging the distance slightly, he found himself head-butting the fruit away instead. Legolas laughed at the clumsy motion.

"The sun was in my eyes," came the feeble excuse, and his friend's laughter only grew louder. "I am certain I could catch it, given another opportunity…" Estel sought a chance at redemption.

Smiling, Legolas threw another cherry towards him in a high arc. This time he caught the berry in his mouth triumphantly. Chewing slowly and spitting out the pit in a nearby bush, he agreed with the elf's assessment of the fruit: "They are indeed very good - it is the perfect time of year for them."

Finding amusement in the game of catch, Legolas decided to goad his friend into continuing it, "Your success rate at catching these is still quite low in my eyes, Estel - only one out of two? Your brothers would not let you hear the end of it if I told them."

Dark eyebrows were raised. "Throw another one then."

Needing no further encouragement, the elf started throwing more cherries. At first, they came slowly, and in high arcs - an easy enough target to snatch out of the air. Estel was having far too much success in this task for the elf's liking, and Legolas quickened his throws a little bit, so that the occasional cherry would bounce off Estel's face or arms. This only increased his determination, and he tried to catch with even more fervour. Now thoroughly enjoying their little game, Legolas threw the berries increasingly erratically - switching directions so that Estel had to dash left and right in the clearing, and varying the pace so that sometimes one berry would land prior to the one launched before it.

The game devolved quickly from there, with the speed of the cherries quickening until the elf was simply pelting the ranger with the fruit. Now being thrown at speed, the cherries began to burst instead of simply bouncing, each little projectile leaving a splash of red juice on the ranger. Realising defeat, the ranger stopped any attempt to catch the berries and started simply trying to bat them away.

"Á pusta, Legolas!" Please stop! The ranger laughed. "I surrender, I surrender!"

The hail of cherries showed no sign of slowing, nor did the elf's laughter which echoed in the clearing."Peace, my friend!"

A cherry splattered on Estel's tunic, staining his shoulder in dark reddish-purple. Another hit him square in the forehead, the juice creating an illusion of a bruise. "Sí pustá!" Stop now!

A hint of genuine annoyance began to creep into his voice. He was realising he would now have to wash the tunic, for there is no way that Elrond would tolerate him walking around in this speckled garb. Sensing that the onslaught was not being slowed at his words, he chose retaliatory tactics instead. Quickly reaching up to a tree branch, he roughly pulled down a handful of berries - not caring if they became mashed - and tackled the elf. Knowing that the retaliation was only fair, Legolas did not resist this too hard - at least not until he found the berries being smeared unceremoniously against his head, Estel's intentions clearly being to create the biggest mess possible.

Wrestling from the rangers grasp, Legolas held his hands up in defeat. "Peace, peace!" He conceded. Breathing hard, the two friends stared at each other for a still second, before both bursting out in hearty laughter. They both looked a sorry state, but the childish exchange left them in good spirits.

They found a perch in one of the white-wooded trees, now calmly discussing the best way of getting cleaned up before facing Lord Elrond or the twins, all of whom they were certain would have some choice words about their current appearance. They mused whether bathing in the river would aid them or simply make them look half-drowned on top of everything else, and debated sneaking via the rooftops to the bath-house.

In the middle of their light conversation, which had hitherto been interrupted only by the occasional pause to eat a cherry, the two friends suddenly fell silent, their keen senses urging them to listen. Some 30 metres to their left, they heard the distinct sound of footsteps - they sounded elvish, but the gait was heavy and uneven, as if the walker was strongly limping. The late afternoon sun seemed to somehow grow cold as the two friends started towards the sound, needing to share nothing but a knowing glance to know the other's intentions. Silently, they left through the trees towards the limping creature, hearing ragged breath as they drew closer.

When the figure came into view, Legolas gasped and jumped down onto the path towards it. "Isiltirmo! What has befallen you?"

The elf - for it was indeed an elf limping down the path - looked up to meet the prince's eyes. When he tried to speak, his voice was laboured. "My lord…"

Isiltirmo had been part of his father's escort. The uniform he wore was now torn and stained. A large gash was evident in his leg, responsible for his heavy gait. Several other scratches and injuries were apparent upon the elf, not least of which was a black arrow which still stuck out of his left shoulder.

"Come, we will get you to Imladris and the Houses of Healing!" Legolas beckoned Isiltirmo to continue towards him, but the red-haired elf stopped in his tracks. He tried to hold eye-contact with his prince, a question evident in his mind, but he faltered when he tried to speak and his eyes looked unfocused.

"And what of my father, and the others? Are they safe? Should we send a search party?" While he saw the other elf's weakened state, Legolas knew the questions were too urgent to withhold, and worry surged in his heart for his father.

"Thranduil… Safe…" Isiltirmo managed to murmur, before his eyes glazed over completely and he collapsed, saved from hitting the ground only by the quick reaction of his prince.