SEVEN

Night Watches

Long the night, ere the dawn

Long the time ere I press on

Mirrored here in shadows cold

Comes thy memory framed in gold

Silver stars, veiled far o'erhead

By mists of tidings filled with dread

Wait now with me in darkness deep

'Til comes the day thy tears I keep

Miluiel took her time, aiding Legolas in the slow journey from the riverbank to her home; the longer the Silvan elf was on his feet, the worse he felt until he was uncertain of even being able to walk in the morning when he would have to resume his journey. Despite firm wrapping, the ankle protested its use greatly, and dizziness assaulted him in waves, both conditions forcing him to lean much more heavily upon the young woman than he would have liked, but Miluiel was patient and did her best, despite being somewhat shorter than the Silvan elf.

The dwelling they approached had once been stately; Legolas could see that. It was a stone building much like those found in the world of Men, but the thatched roof had fallen in on one side, and the other side while somewhat kept up still looked as if it had seen many years of cruel weather and little care. The closer they came, he could pick out some rudimentary repairs, and he wondered if Miluiel had completed them herself, or if she had somehow received help.

His questions, however, would wait; his concentration was all in walking and reaching the roughened dwelling before the oncoming storm reached them; he was not eager for another drenching after both nearly drowning and having traveled to Rivendell during a downpour to begin with. He would not become ill in such conditions as Estel might, but Legolas could certainly appreciate the simple pleasure of dry clothing, as it seemed to be in short supply of late and he could no longer deny that he needed that warm bed. Perhaps a night's rest would restore him enough to continue his travels north to seek out the Dúnedain.

"Come…just a little farther." Miluiel encouraged as the blonde head dropped forward a bit. The elf's steps had become quite unsteady, and she knew that he would need much rest. The odd pair managed to cross the threshold of the stone structure, and Legolas lifted his head with some effort to regard his surroundings.

There was little in the way of light and for a brief moment, the open-ended entryway had the appearance of an unlit cavern. The observation prompted a shiver to race through Legolas, as he was not fond of caves of any type. At least he knew he was above ground, and the similarity to a cavern ended as they reached the far end of the passageway.

The first thing that struck him about the room they now entered was that it was quite a bit larger than he'd expected it to be from the outside appearance of the dwelling. The second thing that the Silvan archer noted was the abundance of mirrors throughout the place. Some of them hung in delicate frames of gilt and filigree although most of those frames were in dire need of polishing; some were simply bare squares or ovals without decoration. Hand mirrors of the sort women kept upon their dressing tables lay about in various places on shelves or tables. Legolas had to admit a fair amount of curiosity at this; for one far too shy to reveal her face to him; could she truly be so vain? Perhaps was there a certain fascination with the mirrors that prompted her to have an entire room full of them.

However, his questions fled as quickly as what little color remained his face as he swayed abruptly on his feet. Miluiel directed him quickly to the nearest chair, and Legolas sank into it gratefully.

"Hannon le." He murmured softly, one hand coming up to his forehead in an uncharacteristic display of weakness. He would never have done so in the presence of Estel or the twins despite the fact that they all knew him far too well to get away with trying to hide an injury these days.

When he pulled his hand away from his eyes, Miluiel was nowhere in sight, but he didn't think he could regain his feet so quickly and so stayed put. She returned a few moments later with a cup in hand; she pressed it into his fingers. It was simply cool water and again Legolas found gratitude for her assistance.

"Come." She said quietly after he had finished most of the water. "Let me show you to your room." Helping him up again, Miluiel paused while Legolas gained his bearings and she aided him to the other side of the room, through a door and into a smaller room that obviously had once been a study, or something of the like, converted over to a sleeping area. A small bed was in the corner, another pair of mirrors graced the walls, and bookshelves lined the rest of the room. A small fireplace was ready for lighting, and in the gathering shadows of night, he could make out several candlesticks scattered around the room.

Miluiel helped him to the bed and Legolas sat down upon it slowly. Again, it felt good to take the strain off his ankle, and he idly watched as Miluiel first moved about the room to light the candles. There was a familiar ease in her motions and he wondered how long she had been in this place, apparently alone.

"This is your room." He suddenly realized; despite lacking in feminine touches, this sparse little bedroom was fairly neat, and signs of its recent use were about.

From the hearth, Miluiel looked up as she prepared to light the fire.

"It is the only bed, Legolas." She was becoming a little more familiar with using his given name now. "And you are in no condition to spend the night on the floor or in a chair." Turning back to the task at hand, she coaxed the flames along in the fireplace. "I am perfectly fine with either of those options; it is no trouble."

"But…" Legolas began to protest, making to rise, but just that quickly Miluiel was on her feet and a slender but steady hand was at his shoulder, keeping him there. "I would not force you from your own chamber, Miluiel."

"You also," A note of humor actually crept into her voice, "…are in no condition to argue with me, either."

His slender benefactor did not seem inclined to debate, and so reluctantly, Legolas allowed himself to lie down. Immediately, the softness prompted his aching body to relax; only then did he become aware of bumps and bruises beyond his head and ankle. Exhaustion he had not been aware of from the ordeal piled upon him all at once and he actually yawned. Soft laughter answered him as Miluiel started for the doorway.

"Hannon le, Miluiel." Legolas called out softly after her, and she paused in the doorway.

"Îdh mae nuin giliath o Ilúvatar." Rest well under the stars of Ilúvatar.

Rain was breaking out once again over the Last Homely House, pattering against the windows although it was not nearly the storm that had broken out the night Legolas had arrived in Imladris. It was quite the tense knot of elves within the Healing Room. Elladan sat close by Aragorn, keeping a close eye on the sleeping human while Elrohir saw to their father's needs as Elrond recovered from the power of his vision. There were times the Elf Lord controlled his gifts of foresight, but then other times the message of the Valar was impressed upon him, insistently and urgently. Those visions that caught him unprepared as such often left him shaken and this one was no exception.

Raniean and Trelan simply prowled along the length of the room, one on either side, trying to work off anxious energy in the wake of Elrond's revelation, trying to be patient for the explanations that they knew must be coming. At last, Raniean could no longer stand it and he blurted out,

"What in all Arda is going on here? And why isn't Legolas here?"

All eyes were on the Mirkwood elf in an instant and he abruptly flushed a bit, embarrassed but his bearing remained taut as a drawn bowstring. Lord Elrond's eerie pronouncement upon their arrival had done nothing to ease Raniean's worry and close by; Trelan's expression echoed his own.

"Aye." The shorter elf finally nodded, agreeing with his companion. "Where is Legolas?"

Elladan shot the pair of elves a sharp look, which only served to turn the tension up several degrees as Raniean and Trelan frowned back. For as familiar as Elladan and Elrohir were with them, there was no good reason not to receive an answer to this most obvious question. Raniean opened his mouth as if to speak again, but Elrond simply raised a hand.

"Sîdh, Raniean Randomirion." Peace, Raniean son of Randomir. The Elf Lord rose, despite Elrohir's worried look, and motioned the two young Mirkwood sentinels to accompany him into the hallway. The two younger elves glanced at each other anxiously, but did as they were bid and followed Elrond into the passageway beyond the Healing Room.

"Goheno mín, saes Hîr Elrond." Forgive us, please Lord Elrond. Raniean said quietly, but the underlying dismay was still there. "We meant no insult but we were sent to stand with our prince…"

"You did no wrong, Raniean. I do not fault your concerns for Legolas and neither does Elladan." Elrond soothed, raising both hands partially in a peacemaking way. "Estel suffers from fever-terrors, most involving Legolas. Elladan simply fears upsetting him further, for…" The Lord of Rivendell paused a moment, as if avoiding the words would make it less true. "…for my son grows weaker in the shadow of this sickness."

"We did not expect Legolas would stray from his side in such circumstances." Trelan spoke up now, and his silver eyes betrayed his growing worry.

"Legolas departed from Imladris nearly two days past, seeking aid for Estel." Elrond paused, allowing that information to sink in before continuing. "Something unnatural, dark, is at work in this illness and Legolas sensed it as well. Estel's distress grows, both mind and body, and nothing of the healing arts has brought him much relief. Legolas has taken it upon himself to discover what happened to Estel, in hope of finding a way to cure him."

"We will leave at once, with your permission, my Lord." Raniean said immediately. "His quest shall become ours; if there is a way to save Estel's life, it shall be done." He bowed shortly to Elrond, and Trelan did the same.

"I dispatched Glorfindel with him." Elrond added, to soothe their anxieties. "They travel north, to the Dúnedain with whom Estel spent a little over a fortnight before falling ill. However, you have had a long journey, it is growing late and your men and horses could use the rest. Erestor has prepared rooms for you and your cadre."

Raniean knew that Elrond was right, but that did nothing to curb the strong impulse to simply retrieve his gelding from the stables this moment. He looked over at Trey; he could see the same desire flickering in the shorter elf's silver gaze.

The Elf Lord exhaled slowly, understanding the two young sentinels' deep concern. Not only was Legolas their crown prince, but also their very good and close friend. Certainly, a combination guaranteed to prompt a great deal of loyalty, caution and very particular attention to duty. "I fear if you leave tonight, the rains may impede your journey. Some of the lowlands may be flooding." It was the gentlest persuasion Elrond could think of without insulting either sentinel's leadership skills, as he was already well familiar with the woodland pair's exceptional talents.

At last, after a moment that seemed interminably long, Raniean bowed his head in deference to Lord Elrond's wisdom, knowing that the cadre and horses both needed rest and it would do Legolas no good if they encountered a flash flood in the middle of the night.

"Hannon le, Hîr Elrond." Trelan inclined his head as well, and Elrond smiled slightly.

"You are welcome to stay for a time if you wish." Elrond edged just slightly toward the healing room, his intention to return to Aragorn's side clear. "For I know you also have ties to my sons. I will see to it that Erestor arranges to have your cadre re-supplied before you continue on after Legolas and Glorfindel."

"That would be well and most appreciated, my Lord."

Elrond slipped back into the Healing Room then, and the two young sentinels exchanged looks full of worry and confusion as everything whirled together in their minds. They would speak later, that much was certain, but for now, Trelan placed a hand upon Raniean's shoulder.

"Come, Ran. Let us sit with El and 'Ro awhile. Their hearts are heavy with these burdens also." Trey's voice was gentle with concern, and not all of it was reserved for Legolas, although it would be fair to say that the prince's wellbeing took up the greater share of the shorter elf's fears. "And Legolas travels in the company of the famed Balrog-slayer. I am sure he will be all right long enough for us to receive a proper night's sleep and fresh mounts in the morning."

"May the Valar grant that you are right, mellon nín." Ran murmured quietly, and they slipped into the healing room, to offer support to their friends, the three sons of Elrond. For the first time since their fears for Legolas had been ignited, the woodland pair realized how pale and drawn Aragorn's features were, heard the rasp of his breathing and understood just how very ill the human was.

Raniean placed his hand gently on Elladan's shoulder, a combination of wordless apology and silent support, the elder twin still holding Aragorn's hand. Trelan did much the same for Elrohir, and 'Ro offered him a sad smile in thanks.

They knew in that awful moment, just how very much was at stake.

The last stars overhead seemed somehow distant, dimmed as though muted with the heavy weight of his heart. Glorfindel exhaled slowly in what seemed to be an inordinate amount of sighing, his eyes turning from the sparks above to the closer, warmer sparks of the tiny fire before him. The sun would soon rise, and he had not slept at all, his mind far too troubled to allow him such rest.

Storm water poured over the lip of the large overhang above him, remnants of the rain that had fallen throughout the night like tears from one who mourns with great grief. The analogy was not lost on Glorfindel, who could only imagine the mourning that would take place in Mirkwood upon news of her beloved prince's death; his own heart echoed this grief. Into the silence of the predawn, interrupted only by the crackle of the fire he'd managed to make within this meager shelter, he placed his hand over his heart and whispered painful words of farewell.

Glorfindel quailed to think what a terrible blow this would be to Estel, even as he finished bidding farewell to the departed prince. He closed his eyes tightly as he considered the impact this would have upon the young adan should he survive the illness besetting him. For the first time, he wondered what would become of the line of kings when Aragorn learned of losing his closest friend and staunchest supporter. Would Estel overcome the pain to his soul to take up his birthright, or would such anguish simply drive him back to the Dúnedain never to return? The world of Men seemed to hang upon a thin thread at that prospect, and Glorfindel sighed again, so heavily as to cause the small fire to flicker and dance a little.

Still, he could not afford to spare any more time; he could feel it deep within that Elrond's loss would not be far behind Thranduil's if he did not act quickly. Despite the guilt that gnawed at his heart, the warrior made the warrior's decision…he would continue on to Talathfen with the rising of Anor and seek out the Dúnedain. The late rains almost guaranteed the Rangers would still be with their families in the high ground and he should reach them easily enough. He could only hope that he would find that which would save Estel.

The blonde warrior's hand strayed, almost casually, to the damaged arrows that he had continued to carry with him. Only someone who knew him very well would detect the slight tremor in the fingers that curled around the shafts or in those of the other hand that faintly stroked over the ruined fletchings. He knew then what he had to do but he would await the dawn.

The last hour crept by before the rosy hues on the horizon heralded Anor's coming, and by that point, the runoff from the rains had mostly ceased. Rising, he kicked dirt over the last fading embers of his fire and ducked out from beneath the shelf of rock under which he had sheltered. Whistling lightly, he received answering nickers from both horses. Coats and manes were damp as there had been little shelter for either of them up on the higher slope, but they seemed to have weathered the storm well enough.

The balrog-slayer took several moments simply lavishing a little affection on each of the horses, rubbing the velvet noses, stroking along dampened necks, scratching lightly along broad foreheads. After a fashion, however, he turned his attention to Lospód. Glorfindel took the arrows, wrapped carefully in layers of cloth, placed them into a leather pouch and hung the pouch around Lospód's neck.

"Ego bar, mellon nín. Goheno nin i siniath haer i cúlach." Go home, my friend. Forgive me the bitter tidings you carry. Glorfindel patted Lospód's shoulder gently, and the horse shook out his mane, splattering a few leftover droplets of water on the seneschal. Despite the sorrow that bore down on him, Glorfindel smiled a little and rubbed the horse's shoulder once again. With that, Lospód trotted off, heading for Imladris.

Glorfindel watched him go for a long moment, almost tempted to call him back, to return to the river and at least attempt to find Legolas' body, but he knew he could not. Time was against him. With a heavy heart, the seneschal gathered his things and mounted his own horse, and with Anor spilling gold over the horizon, turned north for Talathfen.

The predawn hour seemed pitch as midnight to Elrond's soul as he kept watch at his mortal son's sickbed. The dark dread that had seated itself around Estel seemed to wrap itself around Elrond's heart and squeeze. A sort of breathless feeling stole over the Elf Lord for an instant as he recalled the vision once again. Grief-stricken elves mourning together in Imladris, and haunting laments rising in Mirkwood chilled his spirit.

"Hîr Elrond?" The soft voice belonged to Trelan, and Elrond brought his gaze up to the sentinel standing at his side. Trelan hesitated briefly before kneeling down next to the chair in which Elrond sat. "You were shivering, my Lord."

He explained his attention softly so as not to disturb either Estel or the twins, who had insisted on staying and were asleep on the floor before the fire, wrapped in blankets and curled around large pillows. Raniean had gone to see to the rest of the cadre some time ago and presumably had joined Erestor to aid in the task of provisioning. Trelan had felt compelled to stay, and he had done what he could to be of comfort to the Peredhil.

Elrond was rather startled to discover that he was indeed trembling just slightly, but it was not from a physical chill, but rather the cold tendrils snaking around his heart. He reached over and placed a hand on Trelan's shoulder, a grateful touch.

"It is all right, Trelan. It is merely the weight of what I've seen." He paused again. "I am uncertain what it could mean for Estel…or for Legolas, for in the vision all of Mirkwood raised a lament." The moment hung suspended between the two elves, and Trelan swallowed tightly. "However it was not made clear to me for whom the lament was being sung. Until the meaning of the vision is made plain, I will not know how to respond to it." The younger elf nodded miserably; of course, that was only logical. Elrond realized the great weight he had just placed upon Trelan and he gripped the sentinel's shoulder reassuringly. "The Valar have their reasons in revealing this to me, and those reasons shall be understood in time."

"My Lord Elrond…" Trelan turned his gaze upon Aragorn, the light of compassion coming to his eyes. His prince's sworn brother was so still. "I only hope that it will not be understood through the deaths of those we love."

Anor was beginning to peer over the edges of the horizon, and on the bed Aragorn moaned softly. Elrond leaned forward immediately, gently resting a palm over Aragorn's forehead. He glanced back at Trelan.

"Well spoken." He agreed, before shifting closer to his mortal son. "Now…we face a new day for those we love. Make haste. Ride hard and lend your aid to Legolas, and may the Valar grant you success to save Estel."

Trelan knew he had stayed too long, but Elrond had not disparaged him for it; rather there was gratitude in the Elf Lord's kindly blessing. He bowed his head shortly in respect, and paused long enough to place his hand on Aragorn's shoulder, a brief prayer upon his lips for the human's life to be spared. Then, with the light grace that marked most Wood-Elves, Trelan was on his feet and slipping from the room to attend to his duty.

Beneath his hand, Aragorn turned his head restlessly, and Elrond returned his attention where it most belonged, his touch gentle and his voice soft as he tended to his son. "A new day for those we love, ion nin…" He murmured tenderly. "Stay with us, Estel…stay this day with those who love you."

Trelan overheard Lord Elrond's gently spoken words as he gathered his composure just outside the room, and the slight trembling he had seen in the half-elven lord seemed briefly transferred to him as he thought of Legolas. Steps light and swift, the blonde elf proceeded from the hallway and down the steps, making his way quickly toward the main courtyard, pausing only long enough to gather his pack and weapons on the way. With Anor rising, he was fairly certain that Raniean would have the cadre already organized and preparing for departure.

He was quite correct; as he reached the courtyard most of the cadre was there, either already astride or preparing to mount their horses, and Raniean himself was coming toward him.

"I was beginning to think I was going to have to pry you out of there." Raniean said softly, but not in any way insulting.

"I am sorry I left you to see to all of this yourself, Ran." Trelan apologized. "I just…I could not just leave. Elrohir is taking it so hard. You would not know how hard until you look into his eyes. And Lord Elrond…"

"How is Estel?"

At Raniean's gentle question, Erestor left what he was doing and drifted closer to hear the shorter elf's answer, and Trelan swallowed.

"No change from earlier…he lies so still that at times he looks as though Mandos himself has taken hold of him." A soft, worried sigh slipped out from both Trelan and Erestor, and Ran's eyebrows knit together in a deep, distressed frown.

"Then we must hurry, Trey." Raniean grasped his friend's forearm tightly. "Let us be away to find Legolas and help him find the aid Estel needs." Trelan nodded and together the woodland elves nimbly mounted their horses.

"The Valar protect you and guide you and bring you back safely to this land." Erestor placed his hand over his heart, and outward gesture of farewell. From astride their horses, the two Mirkwood sentinels returned the gesture.

"Navaer, Lord Erestor." Raniean spoke for them all. "May the Valar grant all that you have asked." A call to the escort under his command, and a soft word to his horse, and the group of Silvan elves were off to seek their prince.

Erestor sighed softly. So many, so willing to risk so much all in the name of Hope. In the name of Estel.

Truth be told, the seneschal admitted to himself, if his place was not here at his Lord's side, he would have ridden with the Mirkwood elves or even with Glorfindel and Legolas, if the balrog-slayer would have had him.

Erestor chuckled softly despite the dire situation. His friendship with Glorfindel was rather unique among the elves of Imladris. For someone meeting them for the first time, it would appear that Elrond's two seneschals did not think much of one another for the amount of bickering they did. However, in truth the pair esteemed each other quite highly, having been through many difficulties together.

Smiling a little at the idea of a long journey with Glorfindel, and how entertaining that might have been for young Legolas, Erestor stayed until the last of the escort had ridden through the gates. Then he returned to the house, intending to look after their lord as long as this crisis might last.

Dawn's rosy blush had long fled the sky as Miluiel stood over the still-sleeping figure of her guest. As she had guessed the night before, the slender elf's injuries were such that his body had quite demanded the extra rest from him, but a brief check revealed that he seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough.

She smiled from within the hood she had made sure to draw about her, and started to leave the room, but stopped as the weakness returned and she grasped hold of the doorjamb. She had gone on too long without relief. She felt the mind-numbing pain crash over her once again, and the memories clawed at her mind. A piece of her felt the weariness, the all-consuming weariness and for a moment, she wanted to give into it.

It wasn't the first time that she considered just giving herself up to it.

"Miluiel?" A sleep-sated, slightly groggy voice behind her forced her to come away from the doorjamb. Legolas had pushed up onto one elbow, a worried look crossing his expression. In turning toward him, Miluiel caught sight of herself in one of her mirrors. Hooded, and yet…an air of vulnerability clung to her. "Are you well?"

"I am." Miluiel replied as steadily as she was able, and she forced herself to walk back to the bed with firm, straight steps. "And you, Legolas? How do you fare?"

It was, Legolas decided, a very good question. Very slowly, he pushed his way into fully sitting up, even as Miluiel knelt at the end of the bed and moved slender hands to check his damaged ankle. Blinking the glaze of elven sleep from his eyes, he realized he had slept far longer than he would have liked to. Likely, the result of his head injury, which at this moment demanded his attention with each beat of his heart, a persistent throbbing that likely was not going to leave in a hurry. However, it was not completely intolerable and he was determined not to allow it to hinder him in his quest if he could at all help it.

"Much better." Legolas was pleased to say, even as he reached up to gingerly finger the still slightly-raised knot near his temple where he'd come in contact with the river rock. He watched as Miluiel rewrapped his ankle. "How does it seem to you?" His unexpected question after several moments of near-silence as she bound the sprain fairly startled her; he could see the slightest flinch in her hands.

"The swelling has gone down considerably." Miluiel replied at last. "Although I do not think it wise to do much walking on it as yet." She finished her work and waited expectantly. "Are you hungry?"

Now it was Legolas' turn to consider an unexpected question. Hungry? He had a journey to complete! Carefully he shifted, until he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I have inconvenienced you enough, my lady." He said politely. "I really must be on my way; my traveling companion will be searching for me, and I have been charged with a task of importance."

"Your foot is not in any condition to bear much weight yet." Miluiel repeated. "And I have no horse to lend you. Are all wood elves so stubborn?"

"Am I the first you have encountered?" Legolas answered in kind, question for question, eyebrows slightly rising in what she would describe as a mildly amused expression. The hooded head at last shook a silent 'no' for an answer. "Very well then, the answer is yes." A soft laugh came from the slender woman.

"Is that to say that I know you so well already, master elf?" She retorted, rising to her feet once again. The weary ache was beginning to overcome her again, and she desperately needed to replenish her resistance or she would not be able to continue.

"Better, perhaps than I know you." Legolas said warily, a slight frown marring his fair features. "You have displayed a great deal of kindness and hospitality but you have yet to offer me your true name or even to show me your face within your own dwelling."

"Miluiel suits me for the time." She said very softly. "My name has not been spoken among the world of Men or Elves for many years."

"You were so well known?" Legolas inquired, one hand surreptitiously gripping the bedpost in preparation to rising. He watched her cautiously. Another silvery laugh was her response.

"Perhaps not as you might expect, but my voice once lent me some recognition among the races." Miluiel paused briefly. "It was once prized throughout the realms during seasons of celebration."

"You are a minstrel?" Legolas was surprised at that. There were few traveling bards in the two realms, and fewer still were women. In fact, on thinking of it, he was almost certain that he had never met a female who traveled throughout Arda solely to sing the tales of heroism and valor, history and faith that once bound the races.

"I was." Miluiel corrected lightly. For a moment, she stood silently, and then it simply became unbearable. "You should...be easy on that foot. I will return shortly." She fled the room so quickly that Legolas was uncertain exactly what had just happened. Had he somehow insulted his hostess?

Holding tightly to the bedpost, he now ventured to rise from the bed, intent on resuming his travels to Talathfen and the Dúnedain who most likely would still be there after last evening's rains. A soft gasp of pain escaped him as he realized Miluiel had been quite right; the ankle was far too weak to bear much weight at all, and he found himself balancing on the other foot rather quickly. That also did not last long, the steady ache beating out its uncomfortable rhythm in his head rising in sharp crescendo. Legolas sat back down upon the bed rather awkwardly for his usual grace, briefly closing his eyes.

A frustrated growl rumbled in the wood-elf's throat; he could not believe his poor fortune—detained by a sore foot and a bump on the head! Estel needed his help so much more desperately, and for a brief moment, the Silvan prince felt his throat constrict tightly. He could not bear the thought of losing Estel, not now. Not when the promise of so much lay before his human friend.

Legolas exhaled slowly; there would be little gain in acting rashly; he could not walk. His greatest hope lay in Glorfindel, although even that was slender. If the balrog-slayer had survived the river himself, there was no way for him to know where Legolas had gone. If there was one comfort the Silvan archer had in this situation, it was that he knew Glorfindel was bound to the house of Elrond, and would not abandon the charge to seek answers for Estel. When the fierce warrior was convinced of Legolas' death at the whims of the river, he would continue north to complete what Legolas could not, of this the prince was fairly certain.

He would simply have to join Glorfindel when he could.

The slender wood-elf slowly laid back down; grateful once again for the comfort of the pillow for his aching head, but paused in settling himself as he sensed…something. Sorrow. Deep and undivided, the sort of pain that demanded attention and so Legolas paid heed to the fleeting sensation but then it was gone. Whose pain and whose sorrow it was, he could not tell. It had been close by; that he knew by the whisper of the willow tree just beyond his window.

Unsettled, but uncertain what to do about it, Legolas simply relaxed the best he could, awaiting the return of his benefactor.