BACKWARD, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,

Make me a child again just for to-night!

Mother, come back from the echoless shore,

Take me again to your heart as of yore;

Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,

Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;

Over my slumbers your loving watch keep; —

Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

The lightening violently ripped the peaceful hobbit out of his reverie. He catapulted out from under his blanket and jumped up wildly, unseeing. Legolas jolted and was instantly at the hobbit's side. Frodo heard his approach and latched on to the elf, the force of his grasp throwing Legolas against the cave wall.

"Leave me! You cannot have It, I will not give It to you, It is mine! MY precious!!"

Frodo's eyes were wild with madness.

d

Legolas was quite surprised by the strength of his small companion, who was at the moment holding him against the wall, frantically gripping the elf's throat.

"Frodo, Tampa! Awaken, mellon nin!" The elf realized that Frodo was still trapped by his night visions.

"Please Frodo, it is I, Legolas…I do not want It! I neither covet nor admire what you have in your possession. That thing holds no power for or over me. Only evil. Hear me, Frodo, come back to the light." The elf slowed his speech as Frodo's awareness began to increase.

Slowly, recognition and shame entered the expression of the ring-bearer. He blinked dumbly.

"Legolas? What...why am I holding you in a choke hold?"

The elf chuckled at this awkward position.

"That is no matter, mellon nin, you were simply confused. Now, if you would kindly release me I could prepare a breakfast for us and then we could pack and be on our way. We have much ground to cover." The elf was exceedingly calm for the position he was currently in.

The hobbit backed away slowly and headed over towards his pack.

For a short amount of time, Frodo and Legolas went about their morning routines, now slightly lengthier due to their missing companions. Silence filled the cave while a breakfast of lembas and salted meat simmered in a small pot over a weak flame. The pair checked their provisions thrice, heavily aware that they were lacking some crucial supplies and that their food supply was terribly spare. Still, not much could be done and the twosome finally sat beside the fire as they nibbled on their bare breakfast.

Frodo was the first to disturb the silence.

"Are you really a prince, Legolas?"

Legolas glanced up from his plate, slightly taken aback.

"Unfortunately so, the youngest son of three, my sister Amallae is slightly older than Baelen, my eldest brother."

"Do you miss them?"

"Greatly." Frodo spied the guilt and regret that entered his companion's visage.

"What bothers you?"

Legolas contemplated for a moment.

"The manner of my departure was not one of my finer moments. I left in a cloud of shame and fled without alerting either my king or my siblings, not even Amallae. I can only imagine how angry they were and still are with me. They call me the stubborn royal elfling in the palace. A trait inherited directly from my father, I've come to realize."

"What of your other siblings? What are they like?"

"Baelen, my eldest brother, is easily the most proper and amicable. Not a bad word is said of him throughout the kingdom. Self-assured and confident, a befitting heir—I swear he is more parent to myself and my siblings then my father."

I am closest with Calien though, he is the next son after Baelen, and only several centuries older than myself. We make the least royal pair in all of elvendom, or so we're told. Inattentive, light-hearted, peaceful…as youngsters we would scheme from dawn to dusk.

"They tell me that I am most reminding of my mother. I've heard stories of her, diffusing my father's quick temper with a glance, admonishing children with a fiery glare, befriending and working with the house staff and often taken to wandering off palace grounds—an adventurous spirit. She was extremely attuned to nature and to the natures of others; I take after her in this aspect especially. She was beautiful I am told, the portraits are said to not do her justice, but they are breathtaking. I was not living to fully judge for myself her disposition and beauty. Calien was though. He is still terribly affected by her death. Regardless, he is truly the most affable of us all. Never has a day passed when he has not made me laugh, or brightened the palace with his smile. I do not believe the Kingdom could have moved on after my mother's death if it hadn't of been for his unconquerable spirit."

"If you don't mind, Legolas, how did she pass?"

Suddenly Legolas was hit with an intense flash, opening his eyes to a failiar setting, but the scene was unfamiliar.

The palace was a flurry of excitement and panic. The Royal Queen Amaranth was in the throes of labor, delivering to the King his third son. If Baelen wa the gift to the Kingdom, Calien to the spirit, Legolas would be the gift of nature, the son most strongly tied to this land, and to its fate.

Servants flew to and fro, entering the birthing room with more and more fresh towels and supplies and exiting with decidedly more panic then when they entered.

Something was wrong.

Ama, my love, you must stay strong."

The king gently caressed his wife's damp head with a cloth as the midwives tended to her condition. Her soft golden hair flowed gently over her shoulders. Her upper body was completely covered with a deep green drape. Sheen glistened off her luminous ivory skin. Tears of pain and expectant joy fell in droplets to cheeks as she grimaced in pain.

Legolas walked as an intruder on the scene he had imagined countless times. The scene of his birth—ironically, he felt oddly out of place.

"Mother," he gasped quietly.

The woman covered in deep green was just as he had imagined her. Her face was breathtaking, constituted of kind, noble features. He eyes were a deep violet framed by chocolate lashes and brows. Her light hair was the color of caramel that featured dark and light golden hues wherever the sunrays struck. Light streamed in from the pane glass window in the easter wall. The sun was setting. Her light, starkly pale skin gleamed with sweat and tears.

"Has he come yet, Thranduil? How is he, husband? Is our son healthy?"

"Not yet my sweet, just a few more hours, be strong my love."

Legolas gasped as he urged himself lcoser to his mother and was abruptly thrown back, blinking reality back into focus.

"Legolas?! Where are you, my friend?"

"Frodo?" Deep, enormous blue eyes came into focus as his eyes cleared.

"Oh, Legolas, what happened? You were completely lost in yourself for several minutes."

Legolas cleared his throat. "I had a vision, Frodo..." his eyes grew wide.

"I saw the last day of my mother's life. I saw the early hours of my birth."

"Oh Legolas, I am sorry, I didn't know my friend."

"Do not, what is past is past, let us continue." The elf closed the subject.

The hobbit was insistant.

"Were you confused, Legolas, growing up without a mother?"

"Why do you ask, Frodo?" The elf questioned, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"My parents died when I was young also. I was just wondering."

"I was always confused. My uncle only made matters worse."

"What do you mean?

"There are still some in the kingdom who are ruled by the fact that my mother died to bring me into this world when they see me. They see death. My uncle Kieran still resents my very existence."

"That's terrible!"

"Yes, well, my father long ago had him banished when he learnt of the harm Kieran pleased to inflict on my as a child. No one else of the family blames me, though I tend to feel that guilt every so often."

"I'm sorry, mellon nin."

Legolas said nothing, smiling slightly.

"We are approaching Emyn Muil, Frodo, let us rest before we venture on to the harsh rocks."