The Gondorian emissaries came a few weeks later. Their steward had announced their coming in his brief message, and they were lucky that he had: otherwise, a pack of spiders would have devoured them before they ever reached the elven king's halls. When they finally did arrive, in the company of a few of the path's guardians, half of them were still looking terrified and all of them ecstatic to have reached safe territory.
Legolas himself only saw them several hours after their arrival, as he'd been meeting his captains and counselors. The king's plans were still far from coming to fruition, but they were taking shape. Scouts had been sent far and wide throughout the woods and to Dol Guldur to determine the enemy's strength. They had not yet returned when a different visitor entered the king's halls.
The elves were having a feast for the Gondorians out in the forest, at a place where it was still green and safe. Tables and benches had been set up, food and wine retrieved from the cellars; it was the height of summer, and Legolas had not felt like celebrating for a long time. This was the first feast since his father's death.
He'd had taken care to invite the families of those elves that had been killed by the dragon alongside his father or been injured, and he was pleased that many had come. They, like he, still felt the grief all too strongly, but the feast was perhaps a first step towards healing and moving on. Not everyone was there, of course. Some widows as well as parents who had lost their only child had left the forest to sail West. Others had chosen to remain; the Silvan elves in particular did not see the sense in sailing to a land their ancestors had rejected. A few had already faded; others would follow.
With so many elves in attendance, the king's table had become quite long. The Gondorian delegation had not said anything against that, and Legolas had told them of the sacrifice of those sitting with him. They had understood, or at least said so; ten men in all had come to the Greenwood, some of them soldiers charged with protecting the diplomats, who were less able with a sword. All of them, from what Legolas had seen, had so far acted respectfully and some of them didn't find it difficult at all to involve the elves sitting near them in conversation.
And while the elves and men drank and ate their fill, a figure appeared so suddenly in their midst that the elves shot up from their seat in surprise, the watchmen aimed their bows at him and Legolas' hand was poised to give the sign to shoot before anyone had had time to do more than become aware of him.
"King Legolas!" The figure shouted, and Legolas lowered his hand, for it was the brown wizard Radagast that had surprised them so.
"Radagast! You must not surprise a warrior people so!" He berated.
"It's urgent though! You're making a grave mistake!" Radagast insisted.
Slowly, Legolas sat back down with a frown. He wouldn't dismiss Radagast's accusation immediately, but this wizard was particularly hard to understand at times.
"Why don't you join us first and have something to eat and drink before we speak, in private, of any mistakes I may be making," he suggested.
Radagast blinked at him and looked around, appearing as if he was seeing the great congregation, the tables, and the food for the first time.
"Ah. Well, yes, perhaps that is a good idea," he stuttered.
Who knew what wizards ate over in Valinor, or what Radagast ate in his home, a place Legolas had only seen once and found a little too small for comfort, nor had he been entirely convinced of its structural stability. In any case, Radagast readily enjoyed himself, although he pointed out to Legolas at various times:
"We really must speak."
"Yes, Radagast, we will. After dinner, or perhaps tomorrow. Will your warning wait that long?"
Radagast gave him a shrewd look. "Have your scouts returned yet from Dol Guldur?"
Legolas frowned. "No, they have not." He set down his cup. "Should I be worried?"
"Hmmm. Perhaps. Yes. They should not enter that fortress."
"Dol Guldur?" Barandir asked, the oldest and leader of the Gondorian delegation asked. "You sent spies there?"
"Scouts," Legolas corrected him. "That place is the origin of much evil in the Greenwood. We must keep an eye on it."
"But you're not planning to just keep an eye on it," Radagast contradicted him.
Legolas did not reply.
"It's not orcs or any human sorcerer you need to fear in Dol Guldur."
The Morgul blade he dropped by Legolas' plate quite ruined any appetite he had had left.
The blade lay on his writing desk, deceptively quiet and plain for such a dangerous artifact. Legolas had not dared touch it with a bare hand, using instead the leather wrapping the wizard had brought it in; apparently, wizards did not want to feel or risk the tainted magic either.
"The Nazgûl dwell there then," Legolas sneered.
He hoped dearly that his scouts would not be noticed and that they would return home soon. He had sent Tauriel after them, trusting her with such a dangerous mission that she had volunteered for immediately. He missed her company, but so many other things occupied him and his mind these days that he had not found the time to spend time with her except when their duties required it.
"Regular warriors will not oust them," Radagast noted. "I wanted to tell you first, because I saw your scouts pass and figured where they were going. But now that you know, I must tell Gandalf and Saruman, the entire White Council, as soon as possible."
"Therefore also Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond." Legolas thought for a bit. "Lord Celeborn promised his aid. The Lady Galadriel must hear of this development as soon as possible. You're right, we do not have the magic required to force the Nazgûl to flee. I must ask her for help, and I think she is the most likely to offer me support in this. Saruman, I know, has dismissed my father's concerns before."
"He must listen this time! I have evidence!"
"Do what you must, and I will do my part and inform Lothlórien."
Radagast had hardly left when Barandir requested an audience. The man looked at him with different eyes now, more cautious than before, but also determined to say his piece.
"I, too, recognized that long dagger last night," he told the king in a firm tone.
Legolas' eyebrows drew together, and another would have recognized his father in him, but this man had not known King Thranduil.
"It was a weapon of the Ringwraths, was it not?"
"Yes, it was," Legolas confirmed, for he saw no sense in denying it. "And if Nazgûl are in Dol Guldur, the danger to the north is far greater than we feared even in our darkest dreams."
"Then the wraiths and the filth that follows them must be destroyed."
"A thing easily said. It was many centuries ago that Gondor lost Mina Ithil and Osgiliath to the Nazgûl, and what was true then is still true today: they cannot be killed, and not even the elves have found a way so far." With an unhappy frown, he looked out at the forest. "We, the woodelves, have the smallest chance of all the elven folk. We must protect and guard ourself only through the strength of our arms. We do not have the magic of the Lady Galadriel in the Golden Wood, nor the secrecy and protection of Lord Elrond in Rivendell. Neither of their borders can be easily penetrated, but ours are vulnerable."
The man relented.
"What, then, will the Great Greenwood do instead?"
"We wait. Radagast goes to alert the Council of the Wise, which reunites many of the strongest elves and wizards. I will alert Lord Celeborn, and do what I can to encourage them to act."