Chapter 36

The way along the forest path appeared easier to Aragorn and he could not decide if it were because he felt truly rested for the first time in some days or relieved because the halls were less than a day's march away and his heart still believed that a return home would mean the restoration of Legolas' memories and the friendship he missed so much. Looking ahead to where the wood elf walked, deep in conversation with one of the guardsmen they had met the previous night, he noticed how the prince's step seemed lighter, his movements more animated than in recent days and the cold, hard mask on his face had been replaced by warm smiles that spoke of anticipation. The young man smiled himself at this observation, even more proof that his hopes were not in vain.

They had broken their fast with the dawn, as was the wont of the Greenwood elves and had since journeyed for half of the morning. The guards had insisted upon accompanying them to ensure their safe passage. Although it was apparently rare for spiders or orcs to come this close to the halls themselves it was not unheard of and they would not risk their newly returned prince's life however small the possibility. Unusually Legolas appeared content with their presence, embracing the chance to find out about life in the halls during his absence, instead of bristling as he often did when he considered his kin were being over protective and Aragorn had put this down to an eagerness to be back home once more, knowing for himself how the pangs of homesickness could cut deep.

Elrohir was not quite so certain of the prince's motives however. He was certain that he had again seen the elf wince as he had lowered himself from his perch to join them for their early morning meal and had become even more convinced he harboured some unknown injury the longer he observed him during their travels. There was nothing definite but Legolas appeared slightly less agile and elegant, moving with an almost unnoticeable hitch to his step as if his breeches were rubbing against sensitive skin. He watched the slight figure walking ahead of them with the guard captain and frowned. Something else was not quite right too but he could not pin point what it was. With a small shake of his head he decided to stop worrying about it for the moment and let his mind wander over the puzzle itself. If he continued just to watch and wait he would gain the answers he wanted eventually.

~o~

Here is peace, here all is as it should be.

I feel myself falling into cool, dark comfort and let myself go. I hang, suspended without time or place and watch the colours within the dark swirl gently around me. A tendril of deepest green nudges at the body I no longer feel and begins to twine itself around my useless limbs. I feel no fear. This is where I belong. This is where I have always belonged.

I wait.

Time passes, or does not.

I feel a deep vibration resonate through me and know that it is time. A small pinprick of light appears and like a moth I am unable to resist its pull. I know not if 'tis I that move or it but slowly it begins to open up, expanding like a flower unfurling petals of the purest white.

A sound, sharp, discordant suddenly rends the air with painful slashes. Cutting through the peace and piercing into my very core. This does not belong here! I twist and turn against its jagged bite willing it to stop, to leave, to quiet but it does not, growing louder as the light draws me into its embrace. Then suddenly…

Silence.

I float...

suspended in the dark, looking down into the bright, white light that has become a window into what was, what is and what may be. Shapes and colours swirl before my eyes, blurring together as the paints flow from an artist's brush when rinsed away. Then slowly, oh so slowly, clarity begins to nibble at the edges of my vision and I know that soon my fate will be revealed.

I wait.

Cocooned in safety here within the forests sure embrace I look out upon a face I thought I knew yet now so changed and twisted I can hardly bear to see. I tilt the head I now inhabit though I can not truly feel its weight and offer up myself and all the love that I possess.

What will, be done.

~o~

Midway through the day the sylvan captain called a halt as they reached a small grassy swathe beside a clear stream, suggesting a short break for food and rest and the group had been happy enough to comply, seating themselves gladly on the ground and passing round the remains of their provisions. A joyful, almost festive air had descended and amid the jests and lighthearted chatter Aragorn had found himself almost believing they were back out on one of their old hunting trips, until he remembered that Legolas had not spoken a single word to him all day. His heart had grown heavy then and if it were not for the fact that the prince looked so comfortable and content with his kin he may have given up hope for a reconciliation altogether.

They had not long started out on their journey once more and the trees had closed in around them, making it impossible to walk any more than two abreast, when a low, whistle came from the elf scouting ahead and everyone stopped. They stood for a few moments in silence until a figure appeared between the trees ahead and beckoned them gently forward, one finger upon his lips to indicate they should remain as quiet as possible. The group began to inch forwards and Aragon once again began to feel out of place as, although he was able to move silently by men's accounts, when placed next to an elf his footfall sounded heavy and loud and he was not immune to the several pointed glances shot his way by Legolas and the sylvan elves. Feeling his face flush with embarrassment he cast his eyes down to the ground then felt a comforting grip on his shoulder.

"Pay them no heed, Estel," Elladan whispered softly into his ear. "They only show their own ignorance."

Aragorn sent a small smile over his shoulder in thanks but the looks had hurt, however much he tried to hide it.

After a short while the trees began to thin out slightly and the scout indicted for the group to stop then pointed to a distant spot ahead. Straining his eyes Aragorn could just make out a pale shape between the foliage a long way before them but it was too far away for him to make anything out clearly, if indeed the blur of colour was what it was the elf was trying to show them. He went to move closer only to feel a hand grab his arm firmly.

"Daro."

The urgent whisper, this time from Elrohir, stopped him in his tracks.

"Watch and wait, penneth, watch and wait."

The hand released its hold after a brief squeeze and Aragorn stood, frozen in place, wondering what would happen next.

~o~

Galion caught his mind as it began to wander towards the dream paths and brought himself back to the present with a jolt. It would not do to be deep in reverie if his king should suddenly have need of him. He stared up at the tapestry on the wall and smiled, remembering when it was newly hung and the colours were bright and fresh. One of the queens own making, it depicted the forest in her favourite season, winter. A large pale moon hung in a dark indigo sky as the trees reached up, as if in supplication, with stark, almost black branches towards a myriad of stars picked out with clear crystal chips. A blanket of pristine snow lay on the ground, shot through with glistening fine threads of mithril and at the centre of it all stood a regal, white stag, antlers held proud, staring boldly out of the tapestry as if daring the viewer to walk into his home. Oropher had been so proud of her when his wife had presented it to him as a begetting present, insisting it be hung opposite his study door so that he would see it every time he left the room and remember the time and love she had put into its making. With a sigh Galion turned his head away. That had been the last tapestry Lhainfaer had ever made for not many years after they had both departed the halls for the last time, taking their son and daughter with them. Only one had returned, their son, Thranduil and he almost at Mandos doors himself. The stalwart butler shuddered as he remembered how close they had come to losing their new king as well as the old. If it had not been for Master Elrond's care and the forest itself, he did not dare to think of what may have been.

Moving across to the study door he leaned his forehead upon it for a moment, trying to banish the melancholy air that had fallen over him with the comforting feel of wood and half hoping to hear something from the other side to indicate his lord's presence, yet all was silent. He returned to the tapestry again, turned his back upon it resolutely and recommenced his wait.

~o~

It was not long before Aragorn's patience was rewarded as the pale shape began to move closer to the silent, still group. Holding his breath, the young man watched in awestruck amazement as the pale form

slowly neared, enlarging as it came, resolving at last into focus until before him stood a sight he had never before seen. A stag. But such a stag. Purest white with widely branching creamy coloured antlers, glowing as if its pelt was shot through with strands of silver. It stood regally surveying them all with wide, nut brown eyes that appeared to hold such a depth of knowledge he felt his legs quail as it turned its gaze upon him. It was as though the animal could see into his very soul. Nobody moved as the great creature turned its gaze onto each and every one of them in turn, lighting lastly upon the sender form of the prince himself who stood, slightly apart from the rest, his face masked in shadow from the trees above.

It was as if time stood still and all others melted away as the elf met the ancient gaze of the stag and he stood transfixed as a rabbit pinned in place by bright torch light. Without thought his feet moved, bringing him out of the shadows to stand, within fingers reach, before the bowed head of the great animal, their eyes never once breaking contact. He wanted to flee, to run as far and as fast as he could away from this beast who seemed to know him inside and out, who could read him like an open book, yet still he stood, frozen and afraid as the stag began to delve, deeper and deeper within his twisted mind and for a second felt almost as if he was splitting in two. It was as if he were two separate beings, one who wanted to kneel before this beautiful creature and offer up his life, the other who wanted to lash out and bring it to its knees before closing its all too knowing eyes forever. He clenched his fists tight against the onslaught, fighting now to regain control, to meld himself back together into one, uncertain of who that one should be.

He felt the warmth of sticky fluid ooze from between his fingers and suddenly the metallic tang of blood was in the air and he was whole once more. A shiver ran through his body and with it came the first twitches of the lust that since meeting his master, were customarily brought on by the unmistakable scent and he fed upon the sensation, feeling his breeches begin to tighten as his mind embraced the battle and relishing the sensuous sensation of blood squeezing between his knuckles.

The stag took a faltering step backwards and a smile of sly satisfaction slowly crept across the elf's face. How had he been so stupid as to be afraid? This was a beast. A stag. No more, no less and he a hunter, well used to bringing down such an offering for his father's table. A spark began to grow within him, spreading out from his groin as it engulfed his whole body, setting him alight with life. Slowly he opened his hands and reached towards the knife, hung waiting at his belt. Fingers slick with blood caressed its hilt, unknowingly leaving bright ruby smears as he withdrew it almost lovingly from its sheath in one long, slow movement. He licked lips suddenly dry with anticipation and stepped forwards feeling his heartbeat quicken within his chest. The blade glinted as it swung upwards in a languid arc, a flash of silver caught from the corner of eyes that still held the beasts unwavering gaze. He took another step forwards, then another, bringing him so close to the beast he could feel the warm breath expelled from its quivering nostrils caress his face. Breathing in deeply he reached out with the unarmed hand and stroked long fingers down the pristine neck leaving red ribbons in their wake and allowing the mingling scent of blood and animal to build the needy desire already burning within his body. Wound as tightly as a bowstring at full draw he felt his body tighten in anticipation as the stag moved its head, offering an easy route to its neck as if in willing sacrifice and he shifted his grip for the killing blow.

A/N

Lhainfaer – free spirit.

For those of you who are not familiar with the memories brought on by Galion looking at the tapestry may I suggest you go and read The Last Greenleaf in which all is explained.

Thanks to you all for your patience and I hope those of you still reading are still finding it an enjoyable experience.

Special thanks to Obsidianglasses for taking the time to review the last chapter. It is always much appreciated. :)