Author's Note: Still working on the re-editing. Help would be welcomed. Still looking for another Haldir and/or Legolas.

Same disclaimer as in chapter 1.

Silathil did not know he was being followed, for though he was familiar in understanding the sounds humans made when in pursuit of him, he had no experience with those of his own kind since he'd been found. They moved more silently, like creatures of the forest themselves, and though he felt slightly uneasy where he was, there was no reason for him to be fearful.

He clucked softly to Butter, slender digits patting her neck before guiding her back toward the sleepy mountain town he knew as his home. Silver-grey orbs darted about nervously, despite not hearing anything dangerous within the forest's folds. As such he returned his bow into his lap, not lifting it to the ready, but keeping it within his grip in case the need arose to use it. His mare tossed her head at his motion, as if chastising him for such silly actions. She felt no ill intent within the woods, no creature beneath the forest's canopy that did not belong. Her handler was being overly cautious, she felt, but still listened to his commands, each gesture of his body, as he would guide her with a mere touch to her side or neck.

The ride was a lethargic one, despite how rigid he sat upon her, listening cautiously to the sounds of motion around him. Still nothing. When his eyes finally rested upon the smoke of a fire, shoulders sloped slightly in relief. Home was only a few minutes away, and it was apparent that someone was already cooking in one of the homes of the tiny village. A slight squeeze of his legs urged the mare faster, and Butter allowed a friendly snort before breaking into a trot, eager to be brushed down and fed. Once more, Silathil found himself laughing at his mount's personality, of her willingness to return home. It would be impossible to deny that a hot meal would be wonderful, as would a nice bath if he were allowed it. He felt filthy, even with the meager amounts of dirt that dusted his flesh.

/There is unease in his heart. He knows that we are here, yet he does not. I find this most disturbing./ Legolas admitted from beside the Marchwarden silently, a look cast to him for a moment before it rested again on the back of the man they pursued.

His arrows had been put away, though he still held his bow. They had no need to fear a kinsman. Haldir seemed to feel differently, as he still held both bow and arrow in one hand, though they were slack at his side.

/I get the impression that he is not familiar with the presence of his own kind, though that does not seem logical./ Haldir mused. /Unless he knows that we are here, and leads us onward to a trap./ Even he knew this was unlikely, and the unconcealed snort his companion gave carelessly let him know Legolas thought it just as absurd. Haldir cut him a narrowed eyed look of warning, his lips thinning, and virtually disappearing all together from his face in his stern and highly agitated state. It was a face Legolas took none too well, as he again snorted, and had to turn away so as not to see it.

/Leave it to a Thranduilion to get us found out,/ Haldir's mind practically hissed. Legolas appeared almost roguish in his mirth, eyes mischievous though he made no reply back. He had only to ruffle Haldir's feathers with a look, which is exactly what he'd done. Chalk up another point for the Prince!

For a moment the troubled look that had been on Haldir's face earlier disappeared. But it returned moments after as he sighed, trying to ignore his companion. He instead focused on the feeling of unease in his heart. There was something unwell about this elf before them. If only he could see his face...

He would get his wish sooner than he anticipated.

Silathil froze only yards from the break in the trees, whirling Butter about to peer through the blank faces of the trees. He could not see anyone there, though he knew now that someone had to be. No animal made that sound! Though he'd never once met a human that moved so soundlessly, they'd made what could prove to be a fatal mistake. Elven ears did not lie. His bow was raised, an arrow set to the string without a heartbeat's time, aiming into the shadows, though he knew not where he might need to fire.

"Come out! My horse knows these woods as well as I... you won't get away if you attempt to flee. Show yourselves!" Two. Somehow, he knew there were two. Pale lips pressed together, and he waited atop Butter's back for movement -- any movement. Butter was nearly prancing in fret now, eager to move... to attack or flee, she knew not. She felt her handler's emotions almost as well as she knew her own, and danger seemed to seep through her like wildfire.

The dark-haired archer did not move a muscle, however, and remained as poised as a king upon his throne, holding his aim steady, regardless of being uncertain of where to aim. His mind calculated where the two could be... most of the trees were simply too thin to hide behind, and so his marks were narrowed by nearly three quarters. Warily, he watched the few trunks that his mind told him could conceal figures, brows narrowing.

Who would be out in the forest? No one from his village, surely... he would have known if they'd taken horses out. And why did they follow in secret? How could they have followed in secret? Surely they were not human, or at the very least they were no human he'd ever encountered before.

Seconds ticked by, and to him they felt like millennia, his breathing coming much too slow for his current frame of mind. The questions kept whispering within his thoughts as he watched, waiting ever patiently for someone to show.

And see his face Haldir did. Not even a second later as the figure, having obviously heard the careless Elven prince snicker, whipped around his mare and aimed an arrow directly at the Marchwarden. The dark-haired Elf might not know this, as the two were well concealed, but Haldir was most aware of it.

As was he aware of whom he was looking at.

The gasp that left Legolas's lips was quite vocal, and for the moment his eyes had trained on his fair companion, before to the elf that aimed so readily in their direction.

"Elrohir!" the prince exclaimed. Could it be? Was it truly he? The Lord Elrond's missing twin son?

Legolas was the first to make his way out of the brush, his hands open palm up as he stared at the armed elf incredulously with wide, clear eyes. He looked as an angel might, with hair the color of the sun and skin as pale as the clouds in the sky of his blue eyes. He was tall and lithe, dressed in the green of his woodland kin. The shock on his handsome features was painfully apparent.

Haldir, on the other hand, had yet to move a muscle, for he was inwardly chastising himself for not picking up on it sooner! How could he have been so dim? What other dark-haired elf could be wandering through the woods like some vagabond with no purpose? Then again, if Elrohir were alive, why would he be here of all places? Something about this was not right.

Silathil startled at the exclamation, and more so at the beautiful creature that finally made himself known. A gilded figure that could have been made of spun glass, he appeared so delicate! Eyes flicked over him, focusing for a bewildered moment upon the tapered ears so similar to his own, but showed little - if any - of his shock. He turned his aim upon the being of light, canting his head toward the trees. Only one had come out.

"And your companion?" He seemed even more on guard now. Not human. The people before him were elves... his own kind! But why were they here? And why were they following him as they had? He knew not the word one of them had uttered, as he knew not who had uttered it, yet the word seemed familiar... like a wisp from a dream.

Elrohir.

His focus, he mentally reminded himself, had to remain on the moment itself, and he glared at the heart-wrenching beauty before him. "State your business here... Why were you following me?" His voice was as harsh and cold as he could possibly make it, but as Aram, the youngest of the Ricwold family pointed out to him only a week before, Silathil could not sound angry even if he were furious! And he had certainly been so when he found Aram's sister's lantern laying -still lit - amidst the hay in the stables! Even now, his voice was crystal and to any human it would sound soothing despite how upset he was.

Elrohir.

That's what one had exclaimed. Why did it seem so familiar?

AN: So, that's it for chapter two. I'm debating merging 2 with 3, but I'm not quite sure if I ought to do that or not. 3 will be edited within the week.