FOUR

Thranduilion

Apart from thee, my steps are sent.

Away from hope my course is bent.

Cry sorrow, sun, and stars above.

Cry for thy heart, for life, and love.

No joy my heart can take in here.

Apart from thee, no star will cheer.

No sun will rise no moon will glow.

For thou must stay and I must go.

Dusk was sweeping its soft grey hand over all the earth by the time Legolas and Elrohir returned to the healing room in the Last Homely House. It was much as it was when they'd left it: Elladan sitting closely by his mortal brother and Elrond beside the fire to be close at hand should he be needed. Legolas was pleased to see that Aragorn continued to sleep under the influence of Elrond's herbs, the fever for the moment held at bay.

Elrond looked up as the slender archer slipped quietly into the room, a thoughtful expression upon his features. It certainly was a curious friendship that had sprung up between his adopted human son and the Prince of Mirkwood. The bloodlines of kings. Elrond reflected to himself as Legolas approached the fireplace. The heir of Isildur…the son of Thranduil. Two faces of a rather similar coin, in some ways. Elrond offered the other elf a slight smile, which Legolas returned with a slight, respectful nod of his head. Bound by loyalty beyond the ties of blood, even of race. Perhaps to share a common fate, even, perhaps a common end, for if Aragorn were to slip away to Death's cold embrace, Elrond had no doubt the loyal archer would simply fade. Time would lose all meaning…

"My Lord Elrond?" Legolas repeated; a slight frown of concern marring his features briefly as Elrond realized that the archer had spoken to him. Elrond looked up finally although he still wore the same contemplative look.

"You have been as true a companion to Estel as I could have ever wished the Valar to bring him." Elrond remarked as his gaze returned to the fire, and unseen by the Elf Lord, Legolas' frown deepened. It was unlike Elrond to be inattentive, and the response had nothing to do with what Legolas had just said regarding the impending arrival of his father's warriors. Quietly, Legolas bowed his head, his hands clasped behind his back, before speaking again.

"Estel has been my light in many dire situations, my Lord." Legolas finally replied. "I would not see that light snuffed out before it comes to fulfill its purpose in this…darkening world." Elrond looked up again at that, studying the Silvan elf's countenance. Elrond found it interesting that, when even others questioned if Aragorn would take up his destiny as Isildur's heir, Legolas never did. The archer's belief in his friend was unshakeable, even when Aragorn himself doubted his own strength. It occurred to the Elf Lord that if anyone might be instrumental in prompting Estel to take up the path that led to Gondor's throne, it might very well be this intense young elven prince.

"You speak as you ought, Legolas Thranduilion." Elrond complimented lightly. The Elf Lord did smile now, approvingly. "I would expect no less of your friendship with Estel."

"Hannon le, hir nin." Thank you, my lord. Legolas replied sincerely. "I would trust Estel with my life."

"And you often have." Elrond replied quietly. In an unexpected motion, the Elf Lord rose smoothly and clasped the archer's forearm in a gesture of respect. "As I now trust you with his."

Dark eyes met sapphire ones, and Legolas held the gaze steadily. This was a charge, despite the lack of formal language. Elrond was literally placing the life of his son into Legolas' hands. There was a long moment that seemed to hang suspended between them as Elrond kept his grip on the archer's arm and Legolas returned it just as firmly.

"I will not betray that trust, my Lord." Legolas finally answered, with a slight bow of his head.

Behind them, the twins regarded this exchange solemnly and intently; Elrond was not one to dispense such faith lightly or often. Elrohir edged closer to his brothers, placing a hand upon Elladan's shoulder in silent support. Neither twin needed to speak aloud to know the worry that the other was feeling, both for Estel and for their Silvan friend.

"Hannon le, Legolas." Elrond said very softly, releasing the blonde elf. Legolas smiled very slightly, and nodded again, confirming his intentions. "And now, I will see to the preparations for your father's envoy." The archer's startled expression drew a soft chuckle from the Elf Lord. "I may be preoccupied, but I am not deaf. Of course your people are welcome in Imladris and I will see to it that any message from King Thranduil is held over for you." Legolas murmured quiet thanks to the Elf Lord, and Elrond departed to see to things necessary for the guests from Mirkwood.

Prepared now for the journey north, Legolas resumed his station at Aragorn's side, unwilling to part from the ranger until he absolutely must. Quiet, murmured conversation rose and fell between the twins like a gentle tide, all three of the younger elves feeling the imminence of Legolas' departure and the stakes involved in this undertaking. None of them spoke of it, however; the twins simply content to speak of Estel and all the trouble their foster brother was going to find himself in, once he was well, for nearly scaring the immortal life out of them.

It was not, Legolas reflected wryly, the first time the twins taught similar "lessons" to Estel after other such scares. Not adding to the conversation, the Silvan archer merely smiled a bit as he listened to the quiet banter carried on by Elladan and Elrohir. It was the sort of awkward small talk carried on before a reluctant farewell, and oddly enough, Legolas found some comfort in it.

The rain thrummed steadily upon the roof, against the windows. The wind had picked up and rustled through the trees, and Legolas lifted his gaze briefly to observe the leaden skies. There had been some small breaks from the wet weather through the day, but it seemed determined to stay awhile longer. Legolas sighed softly.

"Just the mud alone will be fun, I'm sure." Elladan teased lightly, having seen where the Silvan elf's gaze had gone.

"Lospód will lose his name by the time you've returned." Elrohir added, grinning. Like his father, Elrohir was well aware that Legolas would need a fresh steed and had come to the same conclusion on which horse would best serve the archer's needs. "You'll come back to us looking like mud-mice." It was the worst teasing Elrohir could think of, knowing how fussy the Silvan elf could be about his appearance. It garnered the younger twin the glare he was expecting, and he grinned.

"I would hold my tongue about mud if I were you, 'Ro." Legolas responded in the same light tone. "Else you might find yourself wearing some of it yourself."

"You heard it with your own ears, El. The Prince of Mirkwood is threatening me." Elrohir said with a pretended pout. Despite the bit of banter, a sudden, uncomfortable silence fell over the three friends.

"I would not leave his side if I thought there was any other way to save him." Legolas finally said very quietly, his gaze upon Aragorn's still features. The human had slept peacefully throughout their entire conversation, testament to the strength of the herbs given to him. The twins traded a concerned gaze as the archer slipped his fingers around Aragorn's hand.

"Mellon nin, there is no doubt of that." Elladan said gently, but firmly. "Ada has given you his trust, Legolas. By the Valar, you have mine as well."

"El is right." Elrohir added immediately, reaching over to clasp the wood-elf's wrist gently. "We know you would never be false to Estel. Nor he to you." The younger twin nodded firmly to emphasize the point. "You have my trust, too." Legolas did not release his hold on Aragorn's hand, but he looked from one Peredhel twin to the other, a steely determination in his eyes that needed no words.

Elladan rose silently after a moment, to tend to the fire, and the three friends settled into the watches of the night, bound by their common purpose and love and friendship. Bound by the promise of Hope.

The sun rose in golden splendor, the rosy tints of dawn spilling over Imladris as a messenger of good fortune, and Legolas could only hope that it would be so. The heavy grey clouds had broken up overnight, and the skies dared to be blue as in midsummer. Today would be unusually warm for the season, Legolas realized, and that was no bad thing; in time, it would mean a drier trail and less mud over the course of the day.

Aragorn's fingers curled a bit in his hand, and Legolas looked back down as his friend stirred but did not fully awake. In the early hours prior to sunrise, the fever had returned although it was not yet so high as to steal Aragorn's mind again. The human had wakened once during those hours, disoriented and suffering a sick stomach as a result of the constant headache. Legolas had done what he could to soothe his friend's discomfort and had given the ranger more water before coaxing him back to sleep.

The door opened, admitting Elrond. The Elf Lord crossed the space between them and leaned down first to check upon his foster son, taking note of the fever and the nearby empty basin that Legolas had kept at hand.

"Upset stomach?" Elrond inquired quietly, and Legolas nodded. Elrond had half-expected it; the fever and headache would be enough to nauseate anyone.

"Some time ago, my Lord." Legolas confirmed. "Though he's been able to keep down some water since." Elrond nodded approvingly, his hand moving from Aragorn's pale face to grip lightly at Legolas' shoulder.

"The horses are ready below." Elrond said softly. He knew Legolas was well aware that the time to depart was at hand, but he also knew that the Silvan elf would give anything to stay. "Elladan and Elrohir are waiting for you there."

Legolas smiled wanly; of course, the twins would see him off. After their discussion the night before, he knew the confidence of this Noldorin household was with him. For a long moment, the blonde elf was motionless, simply holding Aragorn's hand as he had through most of the night. Swallowing tightly, Legolas very gently slid his hand away from Aragorn's hand and watched hesitantly as the warm fingers curled loosely upon the bed. Taking a steadying breath, Legolas leaned down until he was close to the sleeping ranger's ear.

"Ilúvatar hebo le, mellon nin. Baw anno am, Estel…maetho sen an ammen. Gwesto an le, telio ad an Imladris." Ilúvatar keep you, my friend. Don't give up, Estel…fight this for us. I swear to you, I will come back to Imladris. Legolas rose now, sapphire eyes troubled but he said nothing of that to Elrond now. He simply inclined his head in deep respect and placed his hand upon his heart. "Navaer." He said simply, his hand moving outward from his chest in a gesture of farewell.

"I galu o sen herth na am le." The blessings of this house be upon you. Elrond replied, also placing his hand upon his heart in parting.

Legolas' steps were swift and purposeful; he did not look back. He feared that if he did, he would be tempted to remain with Estel, although that could not be. Retrieving his weapons from the guestroom that he hadn't even slept in, the slender elf strapped on the quiver of arrows and ivory-handled knives. Taking up his bow, he hurried down the stairs and out into the courtyard where the twins waited, a pair of horses nearby.

"You should have taken the red tunic with you." Elrohir jested as the archer approached them. Legolas wasn't even certain who had seen to his muddy, soaked clothing in his haste to join Estel, but he was clad in his woodland riding garb once again, the jerkin smelling faintly of lavender.

"What, and have some poor Dúnedain warrior go blind from that ugly thing?" Legolas shot back, a grin spreading across his features at Elrohir's expression of pretended shock. Slinging his bow for the purposes of riding, Legolas approached the milky-footed horse that Elrohir had provided him, holding out a hand and allowing the steed to bury his nose in Legolas' palm. The Silvan elf glanced around, but saw only the twins with him in the courtyard. "Who is to come with me, mellyn nin?" He asked curiously.

"Lord Elrond left the task of accompanying you to me, Thranduilion."

The amused tone belonged to none other than Glorfindel, and Legolas' jaw nearly dropped in surprise. Clad in riding clothes, and carrying his weapons, the balrog-slayer bore an expression that was equally amused. "Do not look so surprised. I will not suffer anyone the need of riding to Mirkwood to bear your father ill news."

"I think," Elladan whispered to Legolas with a hint of a smile, "you would have rather had 'Ro and I go with you."

"I heard that, Elladan Peredhel." Glorfindel said with mock sternness as he lightly mounted his horse and made ready to depart.

The twins, however, had come quite close to Legolas, each in turn clasping the archer's shoulder in farewell, speaking soft blessings upon his quest in the grey tongue, and Legolas bidding them to be well and to watch over Estel. Only those who knew them well would see the slight tremor in the twins' hands, the faint hesitation in Legolas' eyes.

"Navaer, mellyn nin." Legolas finally said, making the same hand-over-heart salute that he had to Elrond and with that, he gracefully leapt onto Lospód's back, the horse impatiently stamping a foot. "Na lagor Lospód…si noro!" Be swift, Lospód…now run! Legolas commanded and with a clatter of hooves, both horses galloped through the gate.

On a balcony above the courtyard, the departure was graced with a softly spoken prayer to the Valar and the hope of a father's heart, and then Elrond returned to the healing room within bearing similar prayers and hope for his youngest son.

The first hour of their journey passed by without comment, Legolas quite wrapped up in his thoughts and leaving Glorfindel to provide the sharp eyes, ears and attention necessary for their safety. If that was truly Lord Elrond's purpose in sending the seneschal with him, he had no argument to make against it at the moment, as he would prefer the company of his own thoughts anyway.

Glorfindel was aware of much more than just each rustle, scent and motion around them as they rode toward Rivendell's northern borders. He was acutely attuned to the young Mirkwood prince's distress as they rode along. It didn't take much at all to guess at the guilt that Legolas felt, despite the fact that this seemed to be the only viable course of action for Legolas to take, if he were to find a way to save Estel's life. For now, however, he held his tongue, although he would not allow the archer to brood for too long. To rescue Hope, he reflected to himself, it would take hope, and to let Legolas lose himself in his regrets would only hinder their effort to keep Estel on this side of Mandos.

Still, the pain of parting from his suffering friend was yet fresh, and as with all wounds borne of brotherhood, this one would only find its true healing in the reassuring voice of forgiveness, even when there was nothing to forgive. Glorfindel smiled to himself briefly; Estel would gladly give it, and more besides. Not just for his life, should this quest prove successful, but simply for the love of a sworn brother. For now, however, the sting was sharp and Legolas bore it alone. Glorfindel was perfectly fine to let the Silvan elf think it over, but by Elbereth, he was not going to travel all the way to the Dúnedain in total silence. Nor would he be the only one responsible for their safekeeping. Legolas was going to have to snap to and concentrate on their purpose.

"He was so sick this morning." Legolas finally murmured softly, and Glorfindel looked over at his companion, calmly listening. "All I could do was sit with him…knowing that I would soon leave him to his suffering." Legolas' eyes looked down; as if he suddenly found his fingers, wrapped tightly in Lospód's mane, extremely interesting. Another moment or two passed in silence before Glorfindel spoke.

"Estel is not alone, Thranduilion." Usually such formal address made Legolas bristle; for some reason it did not trouble him when it came from Glorfindel, as somehow the seneschal almost made it sound like a term of affection. "You know the love he is borne in Imladris. The Peredhil all regard Estel as their own, and they will do all they can to ease his hurts."

"I would not add to those hurts." Legolas replied quietly. "He was still sleeping when we took our leave." Sapphire eyes looked up now, meeting Glorfindel's gentle gaze. "I know that this is the best hope we have to keep Estel alive, but it feels like I've betrayed him to this enemy. I should be at his side to fight it."

"And how would you fight it, mellon nin?" Glorfindel's tone was easy and gentle, but pointed enough to guide Legolas' thoughts. "You are no healer, but a warrior by training and experience. Perhaps out here is where you are best to fight for him. Do you not think Erú knows where your ability is needed most?" The balrog-slayer smiled a little. "If indeed Estel's suffering is born of poison or some unnatural talent, then there is a real enemy to face and I know of no one who will protect Estel's life more fiercely than you."

Legolas' startled expression told Glorfindel more than anything else that he had hit the mark, and the seneschal lifted his eyebrows in curious reply. It was true; as passionately as Elladan and Elrohir would defend their mortal brother, as skilled as the sons of Elrond were in battle, the balrog-slayer knew that Legolas would outstrip them in sheer ferocity when it came to protecting his most trusted friend and the heir to Gondor's throne.

Legolas lifted his face to the morning sun. As the day was beginning to draw on, so too Anor's warmth was becoming stronger. It was most welcome after the rainstorms of the past two days and as he contemplated Glorfindel's words, the Silvan archer began to shed the some of the guilt he felt at leaving Imladris. It still pained Legolas to be apart from Estel when he suffered so. However, he also began to consider the depth of the faith placed in him—by not only Lord Elrond and his twin sons—but also by Estel himself. It certainly would not be the first time Legolas had placed himself between a deadly foe and his sworn friend. Nor, he reflected with a faint smile, with Estel's incredible talent for drawing the attention of trouble, was it likely to be the last.

"I will defend him with my life, my Lord." The Silvan elf declared, and to his amazement, Glorfindel actually chuckled. Legolas felt the tips of his ears burn in slight irritation, but the balrog-slayer simply held up a hand.

"Sîdh, caun neth." Peace, young prince. "Iston caro al tithen." I know you will do no less. "Now…if you will Thranduilion, let us discuss the path we wish to take up into the northlands."

Anor was warm, and kind today and that was well. Particularly since all too soon the winter months would come, and like the bitter loneliness the ice would be hard, cold, and unforgiving. She smiled as much as she was able to, for sunshine was such a rare thing within as well as without, and even the mirrors seemed to be kinder today as she paused to look at her reflection in the hallway. Perhaps she would even be bold enough to venture out and allow Anor to embrace her today.

Yes. Yes, she would do that today. Reaching to the small peg, she picked up the cloak that had been her only companion and slipped it on, pulling the hood up around her. Almost eagerly, she hurried down the rest of the hallway—well what passed as hurrying for her—and rushed out onto what was left of the balcony.

The morning breeze had picked up, and the cloak blew out behind her in a billow of fabric, and she clutched it tightly just under her chin, unwilling to let the wind steal what joy Anor would bring her today. The hood close about her face to keep the faint chill away, she simply closed her eyes and lifted her face to the warming rays and almost—almost—laughed aloud.

Today there was no rain; there were no tears. Not like the day that she came here. There had been both then, no kiss of Anor to lighten the burden, no stars to ease her pain. Only memories. Many, many memories had accompanied her here. Down below the path curved away and the urge to take a walk on it struck her. She would not go far; no, she couldn't do that. Just a little time in the warmth of the day, that was all she wanted. The mirrors could wait. The future could wait. For a few minutes, even her pain could wait. Right now, there was nothing but Anor and a path through the late blooming flowers.

If she could have, she might have skipped down the path, as a child would, perhaps even sing… Did she even remember what it was like to sing? That was a thought that stopped her on the way, and she pondered it a moment as she stood there with her face lifted to the sky. There was a heady sense of freedom, out on the path, that hadn't touched her in a very, very long time.

The nearby trees seemed to sing to her, to coax her near, but she would not do that. No, only fear dwelled in those trees. Fear and death. The screams…she could hear the screams. Quickly she turned away from the tree line, seeking the wildflowers and the sunshine. But it was too late; she'd already heard them. They would follow her now, no matter how far along the path she fled.

"Go away." She whispered, clutching at her cloak with both hands. "Please…go away." If anything, the screams grew louder. Tears slipped down her cheeks before she even realized they were there. Panic settled over her briefly as she scrubbed the tears away with the back of one hand. She couldn't let them be seen. For a long moment, she stood frozen to the spot; if she ran forward, they would follow. If she ran back, there would be the mirrors… "Go away…" She sank down onto her knees on the pathway, covering her ears with her hands, begging the screams to take their leave.

Or to take her life, she wasn't sure which.

Lospód shied back somewhat daintily and Legolas shifted a bit on the horse's back, surveying the mess in front of them with a somewhat discouraged eye.

Water. Rushing, muddied, flood-stage water as it tumbled rapidly at the edges of the riverbank. It was apparent from the ground immediately in front of them that the river had already come down from where it had been, but it was still dangerously high. The bridge some distance downstream had been washed away by the violent waters; leaving the two elves with little choice except to search the banks for another viable crossing. They had been doing exactly that for the greater part of the afternoon with no success.

"Perhaps," Glorfindel said with the sort of patience that could be maddening for even another Firstborn, "We should go to higher ground and make camp for the night." Legolas twisted about sharply to look anxiously at the balrog-slayer.

"For the night." The Mirkwood elf echoed, disappointed. "But the day is not yet spent; there is still light enough to…"

"To what?" Glorfindel interrupted just as patiently. "Daylight will do nothing for us without a way to ford the river. We will shelter for the night and give the river crest time to diminish and begin again in the morning." His eyes, as calm as his voice, remained fixed on the younger elf.

Legolas exhaled sharply in exasperation, mostly because he'd known it long before Glorfindel had said anything that they would have to wait. Unwilling to concede defeat to Arda's whims just yet, he had forged on ahead some distance upstream looking for a passable crossing. The guilt that had plagued him earlier had given way to an anxious urgency, and despite his better instincts, Legolas found himself driven by it.

"Ai…" Legolas' shoulders slumped a little in defeat, knowing they would go no farther north today. A moment later, he was aware of the balrog-slayer guiding his horse quite close, and Glorfindel looked at him compassionately.

"Thranduilion, do not doubt my desire to make haste; I too wish to reach the Dúnedain as quickly as possible for Estel's sake. You see yourself that it would be impossible to attempt a crossing now; to try would risk not only our lives but Estel's also." Glorfindel reached across the small space separating them, clasping his hand upon the archer's slender shoulder.

Legolas merely nodded, feeling a little like a scolded young elfling, despite the fact that he knew Glorfindel did not mean it that way. Of course, he knew that they could not cross the river in its current state; he had only hoped…

"They will have gone to higher ground as well." The archer finally said quietly. "Or perhaps gone back to Talathfen. They would not have risked their families to the flooding." He looked at Glorfindel. "I think we might do better to travel there first before pressing further north."

"That, mellon nin, is well suggested." Glorfindel smiled a bit. "To Talathfen we will go. And now…let us see to our own arrangements for the night." Legolas nodded once before turning restless eyes back toward the swollen river and the wooded bank on the far side, his mind already on the paths to Talathfen, hoping they would not be too late to catch up to the Rangers with whom Aragorn had been riding when prior to returning to Rivendell.

The sun was sinking farther in the west by the time the pair of elves had made camp and tended to the horses. A little hunting gained them a pair of rabbits for their evening meal and as Legolas worked in the fading light to dress one of them for roasting, he allowed the quietness of the sunset to turn his mind to other camps, other times, other similar tasks.

"I swear, Legolas by the time you get done with that bird we'll have wasted away to nothing." Aragorn complained teasingly as he laid out his bedroll near to the fire that he'd started some minutes ago. They had managed to hunt a pheasant for their dinner and Legolas had lost the bet between them to see who would have the pleasure of preparing their meal. From the other side of the campfire, sapphire eyes flashed with similar mirth as the elf shot back,

"If it were up to you, mellon nin, we would still be hunting for our supper instead of anticipating the taste of it."

"What?" Aragorn feigned wounded feelings. "It was not my fault we lost the stag. I didn't ask to be bitten by that snake!"

Legolas simply shook his head as he prepared to put the dressed bird upon the spit. Truthfully, Aragorn had been quite fortunate that his boots had protected him well enough from the creature's fangs; the snakebite would have been deadly had it struck flesh instead of the thick leather. Nonetheless, the snake strike had startled both the hunters and the hunted; Aragorn's sharp cry had put their quarry to flight.

Moreover, Legolas had pronounced with a broad smile, it was his job to see to it that Aragorn received proper teasing about it.

"Some Ranger you make, Estel, if you cannot even watch where you put your feet." The blonde elf replied lightly, the dance of the firelight reflected in the merry glint of his eyes.

"Wait just a minute, Your Perfect Elf-ness, just who was it that got you out of that Orc cave with nothing but his tracking skills and a hunting knife?" Aragorn brought up as he came around the campfire and sat down next to his friend, a slight grin on his features.

"Would I have been there in the first place if it hadn't been for you and your brothers…?"

Legolas paused in his work on the rabbit to gaze into the flickering flames before him. He couldn't help but wonder if he would see another hunting trip with Estel, and a shiver swept up his spine. Stop it, he told himself firmly, knowing that such thinking would do little good. Still, the elf's hands trembled slightly as he returned to the rabbit, remembering how he and Estel had bantered together over that meal of roasted pheasant. How as the night sky had revealed the glittering stars above they had stargazed, talked of things both trivial and important as they often did. How they had planned new tricks to play on Elladan and Elrohir in response to the pranks the twins had played on them and how, eventually, they had fallen into simple companionable silence, just watching the stars twinkle above them until Estel had fallen into a comfortable sleep and Legolas had taken the first watch.

There had been other hunts, of course, other adventures. Scouting trips with the Dúnedain, or with the twins. Visits by one or the other to Mirkwood or Rivendell. Journeys on errands for their fathers. Any excuse, Elladan often said, to get into, find, or make as much trouble as they possibly could.

Legolas smiled faintly as he looked into the west, watching the sunset as he tended to their supper, and after a moment, he was aware of Glorfindel settling down next to him. The two elves were silent for a few minutes as the balrog-slayer contributed to their meal from their provisions, some fruit and a skin of water. The meat would not be ready for a while but Legolas was glad enough to take one of the slices of apple that Glorfindel offered him.

"It has been some time since I have been to Talathfen." Glorfindel remarked absently, drawing the younger elf's attention. "I wonder if Eólin yet rides with our friends…" At Legolas' puzzled look, the seneschal continued, "Eólin is a Ranger I met some years ago." Glorfindel smiled a little. "Lord Elrond had sent out a party of scouts into the North and we crossed paths with this brash young Dúnadan who, to think of him now, reminds me a great deal of Estel. Eólin had the unique opportunity to save my life." At that, Legolas' eyebrows shot upward, a curious expression crossing his fair features, and Glorfindel laughed a little. "Would you care to hear the tale?"

Legolas recognized what Glorfindel was trying to do for him, and unbidden a small smile of gratitude crossed the archer's features as he nodded silently. For his own part, Glorfindel was well aware where Legolas' thoughts must have wandered and while he could not—would not!—replace Estel in the archer's heart, he could at least provide some companionable conversation around the fire for the young prince of Mirkwood this night.

The sun gradually sank beyond the horizon, and the first stars began to gleam above as the seneschal spun the story over their meal together. As Legolas listened, he tipped his head back to gaze at those few stars now visible, and vowed deeply in his heart that he would take no joy in the night sky until he could gaze on the stars with Estel once more.

Dawn crept over the horizon almost meekly, as if Anor was shy to rise up and greet Arda. Legolas rubbed his eyes just as reluctantly, a sort of disappointed tiredness clinging to him until his ears once more became aware of the nearby rush of water. Rolling up onto his side, he gazed out over the river from their position on higher ground. Sharp-eyed as he shrugged off the last shreds of sleep, he surveyed the riverbank.

"The crest of the river has fallen far enough overnight that we should be able to find a good fording point today." Glorfindel's voice greeted him as the seneschal stretched a bit from sitting on watch. Legolas blinked a little again, sitting up now and pushing blonde hair out of his face. Glorfindel offered him some fruit and water, and together they broke their fast as quickly as possible, both of them wanting to be on their way.

"It looks as if the weather will be good again today as well…I hope that if the Rangers are in Talathfen that they remain there long enough for us to arrive." Legolas observed as he gazed at the rosy horizon. The last of the stars to be banished from the rule of day still twinkled faintly in the west, and the sapphire eyes were briefly troubled as he thought again of Estel being unable to enjoy their light, perhaps forever.

All the more reason to be on their way. Legolas hurriedly finished his breakfast, and quickly set about breaking camp, dousing the embers leftover from the fire the night before and tightly cinched up his bedroll. The horses were well rested after their unexpected delay, and Lospód greeted him enthusiastically, nudging the archer's shoulder firmly as the elf approached.

Legolas patted the horse's neck gently, moving his fingers up into the silky mane. He knew already why this stallion had become one of Estel's favorites despite having named him for his white sock-feet. Lospód was sure-footed and like most elven horses instinctive and responsive to their riders. Mounting the stallion lightly, it only took a few whispered words to set the horse toward the riverbank below.

Glorfindel was not far behind, the seneschal heartened to see that Legolas seemed much steadier after the night's rest. The pair rode down to the riverbank, inspecting along it for a likely crossing, and neither was entirely surprised to find that despite dropping considerably overnight, finding such a crossing was still not going to be a simple matter as the river's speed was still an issue.

"This looks to be as good as it will be, right here." Legolas finally announced as they reached a slightly narrower span of riverbank, and beneath him, he could feel Lospód shift a bit skittishly. Leaning down he patted the stallion's neck reassuringly. "You can do this, mellon nin." He murmured encouragingly. He could tell from the conditions of the banks on either side that this was often a site of fording the river and therefore was not likely to be as deep as other portions normally. Hopefully it would hold true now. Glorfindel sighed softly but nodded in agreement; it appeared to be as likely a place to ford the river as any.

Wrapping his fingers tightly into the stallion's mane, Legolas urged Lospód forward and the horse moved out into the swiftly flowing water. Legolas was surprised to discover that at least on this side of the river, there was a bit of a shelf that seemed to extend away from the bank, as if someone had tried to construct a stone crossing at some point. Uncertain how far out this "shelf" would extend, Legolas was cautious in guiding the horse further out.

There was a sudden dip, and for a moment the horse's footing was unsteady, answering Legolas' question on how far out the makeshift "bridge" extended, and water rushed up around the elf's calves. Cold normally did not affect elves as it would a human rider, but Legolas still found himself sucking in a sharp little breath at the river's icy speed. Lospód regained his footing and moved further out into the river. Legolas risked a glance backward; Glorfindel was not far behind. They were nearly three-quarters of the way across when Lospód once again lost his footing, slipping on the rocks below and Legolas lost his balance completely, tumbling from the stallion's back into the rushing water.

"Legolas!"

He heard Glorfindel's horrified shout, but then nothing more as the river current sucked him beneath the surface and he had to fight his way up to the surface to try to grab a breath before being pulled further downstream and under once more.

In the early morning hours, the relative quiet in the healing rooms of Imladris was disturbed only by Aragorn's fitful, feverish tossing, his discomfort driving him to try to seek a more comfortable position, in vain. Elrond's efforts to soothe the delirious human met with little success, but as yet, there had been no evidence of the terrifying fever-dreams. So it was that the Elf Lord's heart fairly leapt from his chest as the silence was pierced by a single, anguished cry.

"Legolas!"