For a moment, the elven prince was silent, no doubt deciding whether the human was worthy of his words or trust.

"Why do you not speak, silent one?" asked the man, casting a cold, impatient glance at the Elf.

"Do not ask me impertinent questions if you do wish to recieve impertinent answers, horse-man. How is that we are to know of your allegiances? Perhaps you all serve the Dark One, who rests in the dark towers. If you hinder us, then you are evil, indeed, and are no better than the Orcs I kill. If that it so, I would no sooner tell you my own name, let alone our quest. How is it that I am to know that you are no better than the beasts who do the bidding of evil, mere pigs who salivate at the mention of a reward?"

The man seemed momentarily stunned. At last, after along period of silence in which Aragorn thought surely that the three of the them would killed on the spot, the man spoke slowly.

"We are no servants of Sauron, though it has come to my ears that that lie has been told. At this time, however, our cheif concern is Saruman. He has claimed lordship over this land, bending the wills of many good people to darkness. For our loyalties to our land and people, we have been exiled."

"Dark are the deeds of Saruman," said Aragorn. His gaze strayed the stoic prince, who gazed forward, not meeting the eyes of any, but staring into the distance, at something only he could see.

"What in Arda are you always looking at, Legolas?"
"Hmm?"
"I asked what you always gaze upon when your mind is absent from our conversation."
"A different time."
"Must you be so cryptic?"
"Yes, edan, it's the trademark of Elves. I would hate to soil our reputation."
"Trust me, Legolas. You are cryptic enough for the entire population of Imladris."
"And you are curious enough to drive the entire population batty, I'm sure."

Aragorn wrenched his mind from the memory and turned his own gaze back to the man.

"And still you seem to ignore the question," said the man.

"How is it that you manage to remain so cryptic all of the time?"
"Shall I tell you the secret, Estel?"
"I sincerely hope that was rhetorical, Legolas."
"And what if it was not?"
"Then Elves really are the bane of my existence."
"No, that could prove rather unfortunate. Well then... I shall tell you..."
"Yes?"
"What?"
"Legolas!"
"Have you not gained the answer yet?"
"Of course I have not! You keep ignoring the question!"
"Then you've gained the answer."

Gimli growled. "Tell us your name horsemaster, and I shall give you mine... and more besides."

Aragorn cringed.

"As for that, master Dwarf, the strangers should speak of their names first. However, I am called Éomer, Éomund's son, Lord of the Mark and Third Marshall. Now speak!"

"I am Gimli, son of Gloín. You would be wise to choose fairer words, Lord of the Mark."

Éomer's eyes flashed. "I would cut off your head, dwarf, beard and all, if you stood but a little higher from the ground!"

In less than a second, the horsemaster suddenly found himself staring down the shaft of an elven arrow.

"He stands not alone. You would die before your stroke fell."

The elven prince's voice was dangerous and cold, colder than any words either man or dwarf had ever heard. Aragorn felt himself suppress a shudder. He stepped forward, his palms face up in a gesture of calming.

"What on earth were you doing back there?"
"Which part?"
"The part where you walked forward with palms face up. You looked perpetually bewildered."
"I suppose you would not know that gesture being the son of Thranduil."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing of course. Simply that a gesture of peace would be lost on you."
"You truly have a death wish, don't you?"

"Peace, Éomer, perhaps when you have heard our tale, you will understand my companions'... emotions." Éomer lowered his sword and Aragorn pushed down Legolas' arrow, staring the elf in the eye angrily.

"Legolas!"
"You yelled?"
"You could have gotten us killed back there!"
"Nonsense. I had everything perfectly under control."
"In the sense that every time you decided to backtalk them and point arrows in the face, you knew you would be punished for
it!"
"Well, I suppose I can't say I did not have it coming. On the other hand, I did know it was coming. As I said, perfectly under control."
"You never could hold your tongue when being threatened with pain if you spoke."
"Call it my curse. Or perhaps one of my more endearing qualities."

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathon. And these are my companions, Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm." The ranger purposefully chose not to mention Legolas' place in Mirkwood, knowing that the elf disliked being looked upon as nothing but a title.

Éomer's face looked slightly shocked upon hearing Aragorn's name. The ranger ignored this and spoke briefly, explaining their presence in the plains of Rohan.

At length, Éomer spoke. "There were no halflings with the Orcs. We gathered their bodies and burned them. All were slain."

Gimli's eyes widened in horror. Aragorn spoke quickly, "They would be small, only children to your eyes."

"We saw no children, nor halfings. You may look, but do not dare to hope." Anguish covered the man's features. "Hope is forsaken in these lands."

Don't I know that, thought Aragorn, ruefully.

"Only when you cease to hope can despair overcome you."
"Since when did you become to wise, Legolas?"
"Since I became your friend and was forced to get you out of trouble every two days."
"Not me!"
"Trouble follows you around like thunder comes after lightening! Or... was it the other way around..."
"Har har, Legolas. Real funny."
"I know. How do you feel?"
"With my hands, you crazy elf, as I usually do."
"Har har, Estel. Real funny."
"I know."

Éomer whistled and spoke words to man behind him. Two horses were led up to the front. "Take Arod and Hasufeld. May they bring you better fortune than their former masters."

Aragorn spoke their gratitude. Soon, the trio was again on its way. The smoke drew ever nearer. At last the three had arrived at the pile of carcasses. Gimli immediately rushed up to the pile and began sifting through it with his axe. He lifted a small item up.

"One of their wee belts," he whispered brokenly.

Aragorn suddenly yelled loudly before kicking a helmet. Anguish was clearly written across his face. Legolas struggled to keep himself from running to his brother. Suddenly, he gazed forward in scrutiny. "There are... tracks," he whispered, sounding amazed. He slowly crawled forward as he realized the tracks kept moving, straight into...

"Fangorn Forest."

Gimli stared, horrified. "What madness drove them in there?"

"I suppose that is irrelevant now. Come, let us begin while it is still light."

Legolas slowly stepped forward to gain entrance into the old forest, his gaze one of awe. When he spoke, it was almost unconsciously. "This forest is old... very old. Full of memories... and anger."

Aragorn glanced back. That sounds familiar.

The trees groaned loudly around them and Gimli started slightly. Legolas smiled as Gimli raised his axe in defense.

"What in Arda are you doing, edan?"
"Well, considering we're wandering around lost in a dark forest, I thought having a weapon might prove useful."
"I would lower your sword were I you, edan."
"Why is that?"
"Because I'm not lost and the wood-elves surrounding us don't take kindly to threats."
"Oh."
"You always were the eloquent one."

"I would lower your axe were I you, master Dwarf," said the wood-elf, amusement clearly underlining the sentence.

Aragorn shook his head as Gimli quickly rid himself of the weapon. Now that Legolas no longer allowed himself to be friends with Aragorn, it seemed like all the ranger had left were memories.

Legolas suddenly ceased walking. His piercing gaze surveyed the forest before him.

"Man cenich?" asked Aragorn.

For a moment Legolas was silent. Then, "The White Wizard approaches."

Aragorn froze. "Saruman?" Valar, Legolas!

"Do not allow him to speak! His words will cast a spell over you," hissed Aragorn.

Legolas had not moved from the spot. Aragorn noticed the slight trembling in his hands that betrayed his fear and anxiety.

Legolas stared resolutely forward. Elbereth, help me... saes...

Suddenly a blinding white light appeared before them. Legolas raised his bow to shoot, but the arrow flew astray before Legolas was forced to drop the bow. Ahead of him, Aragorn yelled and threw his sword to the side. Gimli, too, had been forced to release his grip on his axe.

"Such a warm greeting I recieve," said the person hidden within the light. "Have you missed me so?" The person then chuckled, as though his words were extraordinarily amusing.

Legolas backed up, the words resounding in his ear like the words of Saruman. Terror welled up within him, like a great obsidian wave--inevitable and dark. He was going to be captured again; he was going to be tortured again. Never would he gaze upon Arda after this... never. The fear washed over his mind like great rolling thunder, ceaseless in a great storm. Never moment of silence, nor of peace...

Suddenly the light ceased and Gandalf appeared. Legolas nearly stumbled backwards. He immediately fell to his knees.

"Mithrandir! Forgive me," he whispered, after Gandalf had addressed the trio.

A look of bemusement covered the Istar's face. "Why?"

"I mistook you for Saruman."

Gandalf paused in his words before reaching down and raising the elven prince to his feet.

"How is this possible?" asked Gimli, still staring in wonder. "You fell... we watched you fall."

"I did. Through fire... and water..."

Legolas was unable to concentrate as he forced his breathing to become regular once again. At this time, he had thought he would already be under the cruel rule of Saruman... The archer suddenly snapped his head forward to Gandalf. Saruman... he never meant to keep him... Legolas clutched his bow in anger. He finally understood.

"...Smote his ruin upon the mountainside... passed out of time..."

Legolas attuned his hearing to Gandalf once again.

"And now, we are all needed in Edoras! We leave tomorrow at first light. Now come..."

Legolas followed as Gandalf and Aragorn walked forward, talking silently and hastily. Gimli fell into step beside him.

-------

"Legolas!"

The elf turned back to the campsite as Aragorn called his name.

"You called?"

"I... when we thought that was Saruman earlier... I worried. How do you feel?"

"With my hands, Aragorn. As I usually do."

With Legolas' elusive and mocking response, something inside Aragorn snapped. If the brevity of the situation had not been so dark, he probably would have made some kind of joke about losing his sanity. As it were, his mind was too filled with the pain of what seemed like betrayal.

"Damn it, Legolas! I can't do this alone!" Aragorn threw Legolas against a tree. "You need to talk to me!"

"Estel! What's wrong?"
"I'm fine. Worry not."
"Edan, I've taken lesser pain and not been 'fine'."
"Your worry is needless, Legolas."
"You need to talk to me, Estel. Neither of us can do this alone."

Legolas struggled briefly before allowing himself to stay put.

"Thank you," said Aragorn, curtly.

"I did not have much of a choice," said Legolas, almost with a touch of amusement.

"Why are you doing this? Why must it be this way!"

Legolas sighed. "I suppose you deserve answers after all I have put you through. You need to understand why we cannot be friends any longer."

The two stared at each other for a moment.

"There was a time when I never would have believed this conversation would be taking place," said Aragorn, softly, searching Legolas' face for any sense of regret that this indeed was coming to pass.

Legolas' piercing gaze reached deep into the depth's of Aragorn's own stormy gaze before he replied. "There was a time when I would have agreed."

"Legolas!"
"Estel?"
"I... did not want to part with bad words. I came to apologize."
"There is nothing to forgive. I understand."
"So, we are friends?"
"Of course we are! I made a promise to you and I intend to keep it!"
"I was worried... I thought you would not care to remain my friend."
"How could you even think that? If such a thing ever comes to pass, what would we even do with ourselves?"
"Not the slightest idea..."

For a moment, a silence passed between the two. At last, Aragorn spoke again. "Why?"

And although the question was obscure, and could have alluded to anything, Legolas seemed to know exactly what the human was asking.

"Promises fade, Estel. Some promises must be broken in order to uphold the honour of another promise throughout the course of eternity."

"Cease these relentlessly elusive answers, Legolas. If anything, honor me with this last conversation of answers. At least explain what promises you speak of. At least explain to me why it must be this way."

Again, silence reigned. A stream of moonlight drifted through the trees to rest upon Legolas' fair face. His silver eyes glimmered with the light of the moon as he leaned backwards against a tree. When the Elf at last spoke, it was again with a seemingly random answer, as was common with Elves.

"Has your father ever told you of the story of Gwareth?"

Aragorn paused as he searched his mind for the story. Finally, he shook his head slowly. "I cannot recall the name."

A regretful smile touched Legolas' face. "Nay, I suppose he wouldn't have. Such stories are better left for the dark halls of Thranduil, whose home has already fallen to shadow." The Elven prince paused for a moment before continuing. "It speaks of the Elf who betrayed his brother." Anguish covered Legolas' face. "Can you imagine why he would do such a thing? I was not able to, his brother could not. Can you?"

Aragorn slowly shook his head. "I see no reason that could possibly have any righteousness in it."

Legolas smiled strangely again. "Yes, I suppose we all tend to lean towards righteousness, do we not? I often wonder how we fall into these traps. Yet, here I find myself." He laughed, a mirthless sound that seemed empty even to Aragorn. After a moment, Legolas spoke again. "He betrayed his brother to save him. I never did understand that as a child. I never couold understand the kind of love that could be so strong as to endure betrayal, nor actually create betrayal out of love. He knew his brother would never forgive him, or even understand why he would do such a thing. Yet he did it anyway, knowing it was the only way to save his brother."

Legolas stopped speaking; he closed his eyes wearily. At last, Aragorn found his voice. "What... happened to him?"

The archer's eyes shot open as he spoke his laconic answer. "He died."

"Where is this--"

"Patience, Aragorn. You asked for answers and you have waited long enough, can you not hold your tongue for just a few more minutes?"

Aragorn bent his head forward in acquiescence. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves surrounding the small Company. Gimli grunted slightly in his sleep as he turned over; Gandalf was nowhere to be seen. Legolas stared into the distance.

"Aragorn, have you ever realized that some things are simply not to be? Some promises were never made to be kept?"

And though Aragorn had promised to allow Legolas to speak without interruptions, he felt he could not possibly stay silent. "No, Legolas," he spoke, his voice cold, "I was always taught that promises were made to be kept."

Legolas waved these words away with a hand. "You misunderstand me. As I said before, the passing of eternity alters events; the passing of time is inevitable and irrevocable. Often, many promises are made through the passing of time. In order to keep some promises, one must often break another. There is a saying in Elvish speaking the regret and sorrow of such a choice. And yet, it is a choice that Elves are often presented with. Such a choice is not presented to Man all that often. And now, I was faced with such a choice." The prince's brisk words suddenly broke off. He closed his eyes again. When he at last opened them, they seemed to glitter with starlight; starlit tears that held no past--that wanted no future.

"I--" His voice broke off again. He breathed deeply for a moment. "I am so tired, Estel."

"Legolas--" Aragorn made a move to step forward, but Legolas stopped him with a hand. "Law, Estel. Let me finish."

"I grow weary of this land... of these memories; I grow weary of all this fighting. You asked before what promises I spoke of. I swore once that I would be your friend to the end; I also swore once that I would die for you need be. Estel, to be your friend... I must not be your friend. I would die for you, Estel." I die for you everyday. "Now, perhaps this will explain why I cannot in all... righteousness, remain your friend." Legolas suddenly pulled off his tunic; Aragorn stared, trying to understand why the Elf was doing this. Legolas then reached a hand to his back and winced. He turned slowly and presented Aragorn with his back. Aragorn glanced at the long, sinewy muscles in the elf's slender, lithe frame and thought, not for the first time, how much Legolas' grace had always reminded him of a cat. Legolas' soft voice interrupted the ranger's musing. "Man cenich, Aragorn?"

Aragorn paused; was this a trick question? "I see... nothing, Legolas."

"Yes, I figured as much. You saw nothing in Lothlorien as well if you can recall." Legolas' voice sounded slightly pained as he remembered Aragorn telling him he was hallucinating.

"I... You are correct."

"Estel..."

Aragorn slowly reached a hand forward to gently touch the Elf's skin. Upon contact, suddenly Aragorn had a vision of Legolas' back a bloody mess, the way he had been upon returning to Imladris. He abruptly jerked his hand backwards but found that it was still covered in blood. The ranger's eyes widened in horror. Legolas' slowly turned around, his eyes filled with pain.

"You see it now, don't you."

It was not a question.

"Now you understand. Estel... Aragorn, Saruman never actually freed me; I was never meant to stay there. He cared not for Ithil, it was only another way to trick me; to trick all of us. He never intended to keep me there for eternity; he would not need that... not when he is always in my mind; always there, always waiting... Even now, I am sure he listens, I am sure he watches through my eyes. Every night I dream of murdering you, Aragorn. Do you understand me? This is why one promise must be broken to uphold another. Forgive me, Aragorn. At least someday. Yet this is how it must be."

The Elven prince's hands danced along the hilt of his silver blade as a single tear made its way down his face.

"Namarie."