Disclaimer: I own none of the recognizable characters in this story—they all belong to JRR Tolkien and New Line.

Wherever the Surge May Sweep

By Jame K.

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Stars Rush Out

The sun's rim dips;

The stars rush out:

At one stride comes the dark.
– Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Elladan knelt in the quiet of the forest, hands dipped in the stream and eyes wandering across the sky. The chill of the water rippled over the pale backs of his hands, brushing the edges of his sleeves as he filled the water bag.

Deep green and brown hues of the forest's tightly packed trees surrounded him, stretching high into the sky where they were backed by a canvas of the pale blue of dusk. The stream was clear and cold, a little blue streak painted deeply against the rich brown of the soil – a tiny offshoot of the much larger Bruinen. A bird called above – and the soft noises of the stream soothed the subconscious.

Legolas sat beside him, turning his gaze to the bleached sky as well. "What do you see?" he murmured, just loud enough for Elladan to hear. "What sight draws your eyes from this reality?"

Sinking to his heels, Elladan smiled and brought his gaze to focus on his dearest friend. "I see the hawk drifting north to escape the heat – I see the storm on the distant mountains. Thunder and lightning will be upon us in three days."

"Ah," Legolas said in return, his mouth frowning just a little and tipping back to rest on his elbows. His long legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. "I see the blue sky and the promise for a lovely tomorrow – I see the hints of dusk above the trees, which means it is nigh time for the evening meal."

He was beautiful, Elladan thought, with the dusky sunlight skimming over the smooth plane of his forehead and dipping to illuminate the blond hair at his temples. Despite the pained lines about his eyes and the tightness of his mouth, Legolas was still perfect and he still stirred emotions deep within him. "Is it evening?" he asked after a time, withdrawing the water bag from the stream and tucking it between his hands. "We should make the Bruinen by nightfall."

"Hmm." Legolas closed his eyes and inclined his face toward a sunbeam, hair glowing yellow against the green and brown backing of the forest. "Do you think I was wrong?" he asked suddenly. "Do you think I was wrong to leave Estel? There was so much aching hurt in his mind – and he seemed to tremble within himself whenever I drew near. I could never bear to cause him discomfort."

Elladan folded himself to sit cross-legged against a near tree, hands held delicately in his lap. They were alone – the three other members of their party scouting along the southern path to the Bruinen while he and Legolas took the northern. In two days, they would meet at the ford and take the straight road back to Rivendell. "You could do no wrong," he said quietly. The forest, he imagined, agreed with him as the dark spaces between the close trees seemed to brighten for a few moments.

Legolas gave an open mouth smile, eyes still closed. "You inflate my self-worth every time you speak, my friend. One day, I will believe you words and fall on my face within days. The mighty have far to fall."

"And they fall harder than most as well." Elladan studied Legolas, memorizing the curve of his jaw and the straight line of his nose. A fitting compliment to the loveliness of the forest, he thought, then banished the sentiment as inappropriate. "Should we just camp here for the night?" he asked to cover his own discomfort when Legolas did not move for several moments. "You look at peace."

"My exterior acts as a foil for my interior." Legolas opened his eyes slowly and Elladan was struck anew by the deep color. "But we should rest here for the night. My spirit feels a little more at rest here – like this where I am intended to be for this moment in time. It is comforting.

"There is so much in this world to fill me with apprehension – but, now and then, the burden eases just a little and enables me to carry on." He rolled over, propping his chin on his hands and gazing steadily at Elladan. "Do you understand?"

"I believe so." Elladan interlaced his fingers. "Do not worry – Ada will not harm your Estel until the fate of the Ring has been decided. I believe even Ada fears that man at this moment. None of us truly know the… power lying in the Ring."

Legolas was quiet. "Estel will not wield it. His heart is too noble and strong."

"But if he chose to…"

"Then none could stand in his way and Middle-earth would be doomed. The elves would flee to the Grey Havens, flying over the sea to Valinor, and men would be left under the oppressive weight of my Estel until the end of days."

"And you? Would you flee with us to the Undying Lands?" The question – the situation – was hypothetical but Elladan saw the deeper undercurrents of resolve in Legolas's placid face.

"I would stay – and I would take my Estel's life by my own hand, no matter how long it would take." The words were quiet, full of depthless courage and will.

"Then I would stay too," Elladan said with matching conviction. "You could not do such a feat alone. I would help you – then we would sail together once order has been restored to this land."

"No, after such a deed – I would find no peace in Valinor." Melancholia touched Legolas's eyes and he seemed to droop into the grass, sliding into the embrace of nature. "But why do we speak of such things?" he murmured, rolling to his back. "The fluidity of time allows no one to ponder too long on such things. This is a good place – let us speak of more mundane things then fiery death and destruction."

Elladan dropped his eyes to the pale blue stream – the gray rocks steady just beneath the surface – the subtle reflections of the colors of dusk in a deep pool not far away. "It is a good place," he said, finding the vein of their earlier conversation. "We can make up time in the morrow."

The dark-haired elf laid the water bag aside and leaned back into the dampening grass. "It is quiet," he noted after a long stretch of silence, feeling himself begin to slip into sleep. Relaxation and calm niggled at the edges of his conscience but something… a moment later, "too quiet." He bolted upright, hand brushing the long-handled sword at his back. "What do you hear?"

Legolas sat up as well; face grim as if he had come to the same realization only moments after Elladan. "Nothing." He closed his eyes, head cocking toward the river. "And then hoof beats – approaching from the north. There is a taint…" He shuddered, closed his eyes, and jerked as if he had been struck. "Nazgúl," he hissed. "So close to Rivendell?" He sprung to his feet, reaching for the covering of the trees.

Elladan heard the Nazgúl, smelled the rancid foulness of their evil. "There is something else," he murmured, his heart wildly shuddering within him. The darkness of the forest seemed so thick – he could make out the grayish brown of trees and the greenish black of long leaves. A subtle fear crept through him – the fear of the darkness – and a niggling terror on the outer rims of his conscious thought. Then a sick wave turned his face gray and dilated his pupils. "Saruman is here."

The wide, beautiful eyes of Legolas blinked at him before a murky sheen covered them. "We should ride for Rivendell," the blond elf said neutrally. "If we depart now with all haste, we should be able to mount some sort of defense before they are within striking distance – or at least give Elrond warning." He looked behind. "We cannot stave them off alone."

"Then flight is the best option," Elladan, murmured, already moving to his horse. "We can make Rivendell by the time the stars are out. "May Elbereth guide our paths this night."

The powerful muscles of his horse surged beneath him, carrying him into the darkening trees. Legolas was to his left, pale face luminous in the growing murkiness of the forest. "They have already crossed the river," he said, mouth barely moving. "And now they divide into three parties."

Elladan's heart seized within him at the tendrils of panic lacing Legolas's voice. "We will make it." He leaned close to Legolas, trusting his horse to navigate safely through the dense trees. "We will be all right." He wanted to say more – wanted to take the fearful lines from Legolas's face – but there was nothing.

"They come for Estel." Legolas's hands left the neck of his horse, seemingly unconcerned that he may be thrown at the break neck speed they were traveling at. "Estel must be kept safe." He held his hands up helplessly as if he would beseech the Valar to keep the man safe.

He is just a man, something deep within Elladan snapped bitterly at Legolas's candid anguish. What has Lórien done to make you love him so much? Can you not see that your love for him will only lead to your pain… your death?

Do you think you are the only one who dreams with purpose?

The slender, white moon, pale in the early evening sky, hung above them and Elladan spared a glance at the yellowing edges around the white globe. If night came and they had not yet reached the safety of the elven settlement, then they would be at the mercy of the Nazgúl. "It will be well," he murmured to Legolas, looking behind them as if he could see the Nazgúl pursuing closely. "It will be…"

He looked ahead and saw a dark shape rising dreamily from the trees – followed by another and another. His horse reared back, swerving away from the dark riders in an attempt to get to Rivendell by another path. But then two more riders appeared before them, hands glinting silver, cutting off their escape.

How did they come upon us so suddenly? Why did we not hear them?

He heard Legolas's horse whinnying desperately and Elladan wrenched his neck to see the great horse of the other elf collapse with an arrow deep in its left flank. Legolas rolled smoothly from the horse, coming up with a small stumble as his horse lay heaving beside him.

"Elladan, go!" he shouted, drawing the elegant twin knives from his back. His visage was set and Elladan imagined him to be Legolas of Gondolin, scouting the dangers ahead as the elves fled across the icy plains after the fall of the legendary city.

"Legolas," he whispered, meaning the one of Gondolin.

The blond elf turned, dark eyes flaring brutally while his mouth seemed just a black slash across his face. "Go!" he said again and Elladan almost hurt at the vehemence of the word. "Take the word to your father of what has happened here in this place. Please, my friend." He seemed resigned to meeting his own death in this dark forest and Elladan's stomach rolled at the thought of the blond elf lying broken and bloody and alone on the forest floor.

But, in the end, he knew that Legolas was right – his duties were needed elsewhere despite the ache in his own heart. "Be strong, Legolas!" he called and then turned for the settlement, drawing up short as three more of the Ringwraiths approached from behind. His horse pranced, neighing loudly as the black riders drew close – the black, gaping maws of their face seeming to widen in glee at the nearness of a kill. Elladan looked and saw no escape – a deep sorrow engulfed him as the black creatures drew close. There was no way to flee from this confrontation and Elladan knew that soon, he would shrug off this mortal world. But he would not die atop his horse, seeking escape.

Hands gripping his sword, Elladan vaulted from the beast and landed beside Legolas, barely noticing when the horse whinnied shrilly and galloped into the forest. "There is no escape," he said redundantly as the Nazgúl circled them, black ghostly mountains in the darkness. "I could not leave you if I tried."

The doomed resignation flashing in Legolas's eyes hurt Elladan's soul.

"I am sorry," Elladan murmured – and he truly meant it – hand lifting to brush the mussed hair at Legolas's temple. He looked directly into the wild eyes, seeking to somehow comfort. "Glorfindel will look out for your… son."

And then white light pinned him, ripping into his eyes and blinding him. Legolas started in surprise beside him, instinctively trying to shield his eyes.

"Legolas – King Legolas of the ruined kingdom of Greenwood." The sonorous voice seemed to echo around them, enveloping the light in a thick, sulfurous evil. Elladan felt suffocated. "I have come for you on this night."

The white light bleached the dark brown of the ground a sandy color and Elladan found it easier to look there then into the dark void beyond the light. But when Legolas's name came from the darkness, he looked quietly to his friend – wondering and afraid.

Legolas's mouth was tight and his skin was ghostly while his cheeks were mottled red.Saruman, he mouthed to Elladan and closed his eyes as if bracing for a great war.

Elladan looked into the darkness. "What would you have with him?"

There was no answer – just an intensifying of the blinding light. And, then: "Do you think even the elves can defend your precious child from me, Legolas? Do you not think they will gladly surrender him to me before their own settlement falls?" There was laughter in the deep voice. "Can you see him squirming beneath the weight of my magic as I rend him limb from limb – tearing his mind apart so that he is no more living then a blade of grass? Can you see those gray eyes blank and lifeless while the body still breathes? Mithrandir has fallen and if I kill you, there will no one left to die for him. He will be mine – your child will be destroyed by my hand."

Legolas's febrile eyes slipped shut and he seemed to sway under the awesome burden Saruman laid upon him. "What would you have me do?" he called into the light when his eyes had opened. His shoulders were straighter and Elladan thought he seemed resigned to whatever the fates had in store for him. "You obviously wish for something from me or I would have perished already. Tell me – what is your bargain?"

There was silence and the light faded slightly – Elladan could see the tall, dark shapes of the Nazgúl, the lighter shape of the wizard, and the white pinpoints of stars beyond them. Ai, Elbereth, do you watch this too?

"Come with me, little one," the wizard said softly, stepping in to the pool of light, staff clutched in both hands while his face fairly glowed. "Come with me to Isengard and I will depart peacefully from Imladris."

Elladan watched numbly as Legolas's hand clenched and the elf lifted his jaw.

"And you will return within the month to attack it again – why should I buy a month of time with my life?"

A peculiar shiver danced through the tips of Elladan's fingers as the white wizard smiled. "I swear to you that I will never set my might against Imladris again if you now come peacefully with me."

"And my friend? Can he leave this place unharmed?" Elladan's mouth worked silently as Legolas's face turned just a little so that his chin was directed toward him. Legolas should not be worrying about him right now…

The sides of the wizard's mouth crinkled upwards in a blasphemous smile. "I would have it no other way, your majesty."

"Then I will go with you." The nimble fingers loosened their death grip on the knives and Elladan felt cold and empty as the beautiful weapons and then the fine cloak the elf wore were passed into his hands. "Give them to Estel," Legolas said quietly, "and tell him of my great love for him and the pride I feel whenever I see him." His hand rested lightly on Elladan's wrist, burning like a brand. "Will you watch over him for me? I do not fear death – but I do regret leaving him alone to face this world. Tell Glorfindel… tell him to stand at Estel's coronation. Tell Estel, I will always be near, though incorporeal I may be."

Elladan nodded – still bound mute by his own fears.

And Legolas's smile was a burning ember in the night. "Then my death will not be so painful and I will rejoice every moment of the rest of my life that he is safe and well. Tell him that." He hesitated briefly then leaned forward, ghosting his lips over Elladan's forehead. "Think of me," he murmured in sotto – then he was stepping back into Saruman's cold embrace and Elladan was left alone.

He watched Legolas extend his hands to Saruman and saw the rough, black rope abrade the white wrists as he was bound and lifted onto a horse, Saruman mounting behind. Saruman smiled at the mute elf left alone in the middle of the forest and wound his arms around the elf's middle in a wicked parody of embrace. Their faces were close together, emphasizing the serene beauty of one and the lust-warped visage of the other.

Elladan watched – and wondered why he did not say anything; why he did not move or speak or do something. There were things – oh, there were things – he wished to say, to express, in this final time Legolas was alive before his eyes.

You were my friend, he said in his mind. My dearest and most loved – and you will never know how much… I will watch over Estel for you. Not because I believe in him as you do – but because I loved you and I will not cause you any need for pain, even after death. Please – believe me when I say that Estel will never want for love or protection. I will give him all that I can – all that I would have given to you. Do not trouble yourself… please…

Legolas smiled sadly, lifting his bound hands in farewell, and then Saruman's horse leaped away into the darkness of the trees.

Only when the Nazgúl and Saruman were gone did animation return to Elladan. He fell to his knees, hands dropping to grip his thighs as the knives and cloak fell dully to the forest floor. "Legolas!" he shouted into the starry forest, desperate for his voice to reach his friend's ears. Then, in a much softer voice, "I will sing of you in the Hall of Fire – and I will see you – if not on these shores – then in Valinor at the end of days."

He thought he heard Legolas's voice echo back a reply but could not be certain.

And, only then did he realize the wizard's hand in causing his immobile muteness. He felt the fading magic surrounding him and knew Saruman had kept him – not his own fear and paralysis – from comforting his friend in the final moments of their sojourn together. He screamed again – and then fell to weeping on the forest floor.

Legolas's dead horse was just a few feet away and Elladan stared at the sepulchral whiteness covering the large eyes – and the blood stained over the thick brown fur. He had never felt so alone.

Then, he climbed to his feet, taking the knives and cloak with him, hugging them to his chest. He turned, and began walking back to Imladris. The walk was long and his feet seemed to lag – no strength would come into his sinews and quicken his pace. He dragged himself through the forest as the darkness came more fully, eyes not seeing the brightening stars or the yellowing moon.

A daze seemed to have come over him, sheltering him from the roots that stubbed his toes or the brambles that scratched across his face. The trees mourned – he heard that – but Elladan refused to hear the gentle comfort the trees tried to afford him.

Finally, when the silver gray mists of morning laced themselves through the trees and the eastern mountains flushed pink, the white spires of Imladris rose from the woods like the mythical palaces of Eregion.

He stopped several paces from the gates, swaying with morning breeze and trembling with the cumulating emotions. His arms wrapped more tightly about his precious bundle, cradling it close to his chest as if it were a small infant. He staggered and would have fallen; but strong hands were there just then, bearing him up and then scooping him into careful arms.

Sunlight pierced the mist and he turned his head to look into Glorfindel's concerned eyes as the older elf began to gently carry him toward the gates, his bundle still clutched in his hands. The warmth from the blond elf's chest sunk into his damp clothes, searing his skin with a welcoming heat.

"Legolas was taken," he said dully as the mist circled over his head. His eyes followed the roving patterns as he tried to lose himself in nature's intricate dance. "Legolas is gone."

Glorfindel did nothing but tighten his arm about Elladan's shoulders. "Rest now," he murmured and Elladan felt absurdly grateful for the release.

"Tell Estel…" he whispered – but was asleep before he could finish.

To be continued.