“It’s been three days,” Boromir growled as he rowed, broad shoulders heaving beneath his tunic. “Those blasted Orcs have been tracking us for three bloody days.”

“I know,” Aragorn answered grimly, peering back through the thick mist that had descended on the river as he too rowed hard. Off to his right he could see the shadowy outline of the smaller boat carrying Gandalf, Gimli and Legolas skimming silently through the cold water. Between him and Boromir, the four Hobbits filled the bottom of the boat, keeping out of sight as best they could. They had borrowed the boats at the last ford, hoping to gain a head start over the Orcs that pursued them. “What exactly do you expect me to do about it?”

Boromir grunted irritably and didn’t answer. He was complaining because he was wet and cold and exhausted, a nigh on permanent state of affairs since he had joined the Fellowship; not that things had been much better in Gondor.

“Couldn’t Gandalf do something?” Merry questioned hopefully.

“Magic would only draw more attention,” Frodo said quietly, glancing worriedly back at Aragorn.

Strider nodded. The Orcs had picked them up leaving the Elven sanctuary where they had taken Legolas to remove a curse. Gandalf feared that the surge of power from the breaking of the curse had drawn Sauron’s attention to them.

“We’re going to have to do something soon,” Boromir pointed out, glancing back at Aragorn. “We have to go ashore. This river’s taking us the wrong way and there’s a bit of a bay up ahead...”

“I agree,” Aragorn answered. “Let’s get closer to the others and find out if Legolas has seen any Orcs...”

Sam shifted nervously in the bottom of the boat, clinging fiercely to a hand hold. He had told Aragorn he couldn’t swim when the Ranger had forcibly bundled him in to the boat and the look of barely concealed panic on his face told everyone how scared he was. “Does anyone else hear that?” he fretted as Merry patted his arm soothingly.

“Hear what, Sam?” Frodo asked, moving closer to his friend in an offer of support.

“A kind of roaring sound.....”

Aragorn lifted his head sharply, straining to hear what the sharp eared Hobbit had detected. There was a roaring sound, rumbling back to them down the sides of the narrow river canyon they found themselves in.

“Aragorn....” Boromir had stopped rowing and was peering over the side of the boat. “The current’s picked up....”

“Get us over to the side!” Aragorn said sharply and lifted his voice, careless of whether the Orcs might hear him. “Gandalf! Legolas! Pull over to shore....Rapids!”

“What did he say?” Gimli wondered, cupping one had over his ear as he peered through the dense fog towards the misty outline of the other boat.

Legolas was busy staring forwards, bright blue eyes intense as he scanned the fogs billowing ahead of them.  “Rapids...” he said abruptly. “I trust you can swim, Gimli....”

“Dwarfs are known for their ability to sink like a rock in armour....” Gimli snorted.

Legolas’ eyes widened in alarm.

“This is not the time for joking,” Gandalf scolded however. “I suggest we pull over to the shore. That is probably what Aragorn is screaming at us. Follow them, Legolas.”

Gimli grunted. “A little light humour never does any harm. Can we break out of the current?”

“Yes.....” Legolas said firmly, rowing steadily across the current. “However, I believe the Orcs may be a problem....”

“Orcs?” Gandalf said sharply. “Where-?”

A red and black feathered arrow hissed out of the fog and smacked into the boat, narrowly missing his hand.

“Ah....”

“There.....” Legolas answered, inclining his head towards the cliffs lining the shore they were headed towards. “They appear to know this river somewhat better than we do....”

“...and have got ahead of us....” Gimli growled, hefting his axe in frustration and leaning aside as Gandalf rose to his feet and stepped past him, jostling the Dwarf aside.

“I believe I had better row, Legolas,” the Istari said hastily as Legolas scooted aside and grabbed his bow. As Gandalf bent to the oars, Legolas stood up behind him and fired into the mist, picking off a barely seen target on the shoreline.

Boromir was swearing under his breath as he rowed frantically, heaving the boat through the water towards the shore and feeling the sweat rolling down his back despite the chill of the mists. Aragorn had grabbed his bow and was firing at the handful of Orcs using them for target practise.

“Keep down!” the Gondor man barked as Pippin tentatively lifted his head.

“But the rapids....”

“You can swim, can’t you?”

“Sam can’t...” Frodo squeaked.

“Worry about the bloody Orcs!” Boromir broke off, swearing savagely as an arrow hit the boat’s seat right between his thighs. “Nearly cut off my bloody prospects that did!” he complained as he hauled even more determinedly at the oars. The boat was hurtling in towards the shore now, skimming over the shoaling water towards dry ground and the chance to fight the Orcs on his own terms, sword in hand.

Gandalf gritted his teeth, feeling muscles crack in his shoulders. He wasn’t used to such strenuous activity as rowing and he could feel the current fighting him, pulling them on sideways now.

“Rapids ahoy.....” Gimli warned.

The roar of the water was a constant beat against the ears now and the froth of waves hammering over the rocks could be seen through the fog where the river churned against the rocks’ sharp teeth.

Legolas was oblivious; tracking an Orc that he could see had Aragorn in its sights. The bow sang in his hands, the string humming against her fingers as they arrow flew smooth and straight, splicing the Orc’s head in two....

The pain was sharp and fierce, a vicious bite of fire that stabbed through his shoulder and twisted him sideways with the impact, tripping over Gandalf as he tumbled into a whirlpool of darkness.....

The startled Istari let out a yell and caught the Elf as he fell into his arms. Gimli bounded to his feet, shouting. The sudden wild movement tipping and shaking the boat as the current caught it and wrenched it around, overturning it into the maelstrom of frothing water at the edge of the rapids....

Leaping over the side of the boat, Aragorn plunged after Boromir into the fight, slicing left and right, decapitating an Orc here, skewering one there....

“Gotcha!” The last Orc went down in a spray of blood as Boromir hacked its head from its shoulders. He spun around with a grin of triumph on his face that faded to a look of horror.

Out of breath and keenly aware of how close it had come to them being the ones lying butchered on the shore, Aragon whirled around to look and felt his blood run cold.

The Hobbits had taken shelter by their boat, swords drawn to defend each other, but they were yelling and pointing, gesticulating out into the river where the second boat had over turned and crunched up against the rocks. Gandalf and Gimli were both clinging to the wreckage....

“Where’s the Elf?” Boromir said in shock.

Panting, Aragorn looked around in despair then ran for the boat. Boromir bounded after him. “We’ll never get the boat out there to them....” he protested.

“I’ll swim it....” Aragorn said flatly. “We’ve got rope. You can pull them back to shore.” He lifted his head, meeting Boromir’s eyes. “You’re stronger than me....”

Boromir nodded once. “I’ll be the anchor. Come on, lads. Give me a hand here....” He turned to the Hobbits, organising them to help as Aragorn wrapped the rope around his waist, swung the second coil over his shoulder and plunged into the cold waters.

Wading out as far as he could, he took a deep breath and plunged in, letting the current carry him towards where he wanted to be rather than waste his strength swimming the distance.

As the water swept him towards the boat, he felt a surge of panic as he realised he was going to overshoot into the hungry teeth of the rapids, then Gimli shifted slightly and reached out a powerful arm to snag the Ranger and drag him in against the boat. 

“Bloody daft thing to do,” he bellowed at him as Aragorn scrabbled for a hold on the broken hull.

Aragorn ignored him, realising that Gandalf had one arm wrapped around Legolas and was holding the unconscious Elf’s head above water. A surge of fright shook him as he peered at his friend. “What happened?”

“An Orc shot him,” Gandalf answered sourly.

“How’d he let them get away with that?”

“He was protecting your back at the time.”

Aragorn swore. “If I tie the rope around you, can you get him to shore? I’ll help Gimli.”

Gandalf scowled, shifting his grip on the Elf. “You’d better hurry then,” he warned. “This water’s not getting any warmer....”

Boromir scowled as he realised Aragorn was sending Gandalf first. He could have wished for Gimli first; the Dwarf was powerful and heavy but would be an easier haul than the wizard. As he and the Hobbits took up the strain however, he got a better look and realised that the Istari had Legolas with him.

“Pull, lads!” he ordered the Hobbits, glad of their help as they set to with a will It was long haul, the rope burned their hands and muscles sang with the strain of fighting the river currents, but inch by inch, foot by foot, the water gave up its grip on its prey and the wizard and the Elf were hauled to the safety of the shore. The Istari still had a firm grip on his staff and Boromir might have been amused if he hadn't been so worried.

“Brace them now!” the Gondor man ordered and hitched the rope round a stump of rock, striding forward to grab Legolas and hoist him over one broad shoulder and out of the water. He laid him down on his side on the shore, mindful of the broken off shaft of arrow protruding from his shoulder. He spared a moment to touch the Elf’s throat, feeling for a pulse to reassure himself he was still alive, then raced back to help bring Gimli and Aragon ashore.

Gimli came alone, pulled through the water briskly now with Gandalf help on the rope. Finally Aragorn came ashore, half swimming to help the haulers. With all of them on dry land again, they gathered round Gandalf as he knelt anxiously over Legolas.

“That arrow had better come out before he wakes up,” Gimli advised, his gruff tones covering his concern and not fooling anyone.

“I’ll do it,” Aragorn said flatly, his face a stony mask as he drew his knife and crouched.

“Wait,” Gandalf laid his hand on his wrist and plucked the knife from his fingers.  “I think with the Orcs so close, we can risk a little magic and do less harm to Legolas.”

Aragorn gave him a worried look. “We may not have time...”

“This will be quicker than a knife,” Gandalf said firmly. “Move back now, do not touch him...”

Aragorn grimaced, but Boromir’s hand on his shoulder drew him away from his friend. “If Gandalf’s got a better way, let him use it....” the Gondor man urged. “Come on, lads, we’ll need our packs...”

As Boromir shooed the Hobbits back to the boat, Aragorn turned worriedly back to Legolas. Gandalf had unfastened Legolas’ tunic and sliced the arrow shaft off close to the skin to free the fabric. Aragorn flinched, wondering what the wizard thought he was doing. The only way he knew to remove an arrow head was to either dig for it by knife or pull it out by the shaft. Either way, success depended on the type of arrowhead; if it was barbed....

The Elf twitched suddenly; his whole body spasming and Gandalf hastily touched one hand to his pale forehead, murmuring softly to him until he went limp again. After a second, the Istari nodded and bent his head, saying nothing as a stillness spread through him. Finally, he laid one hand over the slowly seeping wound, spreading his fingers around the jagged end of the arrow shaft. He took a deep breath, lifted his head and drove his fingers down into the skin, hooking them like claws into the muscle then pulling up and out, blood splashed bright and scarlet and Legolas convulsed, a sharp mewing cry escaping him as his blue eyes opened wide, huge and glazed with shock....

Gandalf reeled back, opening his fingers to look at the arrow head lying bloody in his hand....

It was Gimli who leaned over and pressed a makeshift bandage to the Elf’s shoulder and gave Gandalf a sour look. “If you don’t mind....” he prompted.

“Oh yes, my apologies, Legolas....” Gandalf placed his hand over the bandage and pressed down, murmuring briskly; a whisper like the sound of a breeze through the leaves brushed Aragorn’s senses and he thought for a moment he smelt apples and honey.....

A look of relief flitted across Legolas’ face as he relaxed onto the stony beach, his eyes half closing.

“Aragorn, your help please....” Gandalf said quietly. “I have silenced his pain and slowed the bleeding, but your assistance is needed now....”

Nodding, Aragorn shook himself out of his daze and knelt quickly to examine the wound then catch at Gandalf’s hand to inspect the arrow head. Long and vicious, it was as barbed as the Ranger had feared, but all the points appeared to be intact. If Aragorn had been forced to remove it.... He shuddered, reluctant to even consider it. He would have been unlikely to remove all the barbs without doing serious damage to his friend’s shoulder. And while Legolas could survive a mortal wound that would kill a human; maiming would kill his spirit before his body and wound fever could kill as surely as a mortal wound.

“Here....” Boromir had brought the Ranger’s pack and crouched beside them. “How is he?”

“The bleeding’s mostly stopped, but he’s lost blood; a lot of blood....” Legolas’ turned his head slightly, gazing at the men as if from far away. Aragorn waved a hand across his eyes and Legolas didn’t even blink.

“He’s put himself in a healing trance,” Gandalf said quietly.

Boromir shook his head. “Can he travel? We can’t stay here. It’s too open. If the Orcs catch us....”

“Let me finish patching him up, then I’ll wake him,” Aragorn said grimly, knowing he was right. There had been more Orcs pursuing them than the ones they had killed. The others might not be far behind...

“Ah, Sam, well done....” Gandalf rose to his feet and beamed on the Hobbit. Sam had found Legolas’ bow. It was as tall as he was and had survived the river undamaged; an Elf bow was not easy to break. Smiling wanly, Sam put the bow down next to Legolas and gave him a worried look.

“Will he be all right?” he fretted.

Aragorn spared a moment to squeeze his shoulder. “He needs healing, but yes, he will be....” he answered reassuringly, but inside he was aware that Legolas might not have the time he needed if the Orcs found them.

“I’ll go and keep watch,” Boromir said as if reading his mind. With a last look at the Elf, he loped off. Gimli followed him.

After a moment, Gandalf lifted his head and looked around him, then moved across the rough stony beach they had landed on, eyeing the threatening dark cliffs that loomed over them.

“What do we do now, Gandalf?” Frodo asked uncertainly, having followed the wizard.

Gandalf laid a kindly hand on his shoulder, tilting his head from side to side as if listening to something only he could hear. “We must follow the shoreline for a way, I think,” he said quietly.

“On foot?”

“On foot, young Hobbit. Sam at least will be glad of that.”

Frodo smiled ruefully. “He doesn't like boats.”

“An understandable reaction,” Gandalf said mildly, looking down at his own sopping wet grey robes. “I’m not enamoured of them myself at the moment. A good cart is more suitable....”

A soft yelp from behind them had them both hurrying back to the shore. Legolas was sitting up, long legs drawn up to his chest as he folded in on himself, hugging his arm to him. Aragorn knelt beside him, one arm across his friend’s shoulders as he spoke softly to him in Elvish. The Ranger shot an anxious look at Gandalf as the wizard leaned over them and rested his hand on Legolas’ shoulder.

Legolas peered up at him reproachfully and wiped wet hair away of his face.  “That hurt,” he complained.

“I'm sure it did,” Gandalf smiled. “But not so much as Aragorn’s methods would have.”

Legolas grimaced at that, finally allowing the Ranger to ease his arm free so he could tuck a makeshift sling around the limb. “You woke me up,” he added with a hint of petulance.

“I'm sorry for that,” Aragorn admitted. “But we can’t have you in a trance when we need to move. There are Orcs close by and we need to keep moving.” He paused, meeting Legolas’ blue eyes in concern. “Did I give you long enough to rest?”

Legolas inclined his head a fraction. “Long enough. I can move, though I do not think I can fight.”

“You may not need to,” Gandalf said quietly. “I know this place. The Orcs have herded us into a trap....” He ignored Frodo’s faint gasp but patted the Hobbit gently. “But there is a way out. There is an old Gateway here if we can find it. I can sense it.” He met Legolas’ eyes, gazing at him expectantly.

The Elf shivered slightly. “The boat?” he suggested.

“Yours sank. Ours can’t carry all of us,” Aragorn answered. He could sense an undercurrent between Gandalf and Legolas, but couldn’t quite read it.

“You could take the Hobbits and go....”

“And leave who behind?”

“I will stay.....” Legolas began then paused as the Ranger shook his head violently.

“No, no one stays behind. You know what Orcs would do to you!”

“Only if they catch me....”

“And how long would that take them?” Gandalf said sharply. “You said yourself you cannot fight.”

Legolas’ chin came up. “I can if I must....”

Aragorn leaned closer, very much aware that the Hobbits had gathered in a loose ring around them. “You know what the Orcs will do?” he said coldly. “They’ll kill us humans, but they’ll spit the Hobbits, roast the Dwarf and use you for sport before they eat you alive....”

Legolas, already pale from loss of blood, blanched even further...

“Are we having a meeting?” Boromir suddenly demanded as he jogged up with Gimli thudding along behind him. “I suggest we hold it somewhere else. Orcs are coming.”

“Many of them?” Gandalf demanded, hefting his staff.

“Enough to overrun us,” Gimli said sourly.

“And this is not a good place for a fight. If they get above us....” Boromir looked up at the cliffs looming over them and scowled. “Like shooting fish in a barrel...”

“We must follow the shoreline then. Gimli, take Frodo and the others that way, quickly now.” Gandalf pointed along the edge of the water to where a narrow path snaked along the edge of the river. Gimli grunted and grabbed the nearest Hobbit, bundling them along ahead of him. Aragorn and Boromir were already grabbing for their weapons as Gandalf swung back on Legolas, his eyes blazing fiercely. “Get up, Elf,” he commanded sharply.  “I've know Thranduil to long to tell him I left you behind.”

Legolas pulled a face at him as he struggled to his feet. “You don’t have to yell,” he protested.

“Here, lean on me,” Gandalf said briskly, scooping up the Elf’s bow and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Move!” Aragorn barked, coming up behind them and hustling them towards the narrow path. The others had already disappeared beyond the rocky outcrop overlapping the rapids. Boromir brought up the rear, scanning the cliffs behind them and the straggling path down which the Orcs must come. But it was still empty by the time they made it around the outcrop.

Beyond the bay, the ground turned even rougher, overgrown by straggling bushes and low trees that clung precariously to the stones. Gimli had stopped to wait for them, uncertain of which way he should lead the Hobbits; inland or further down the river.  

“Legolas?” Gandalf prompted the Elf beside him.

Legolas shot a glare at him and shook free of his grip, trotting forward grimly. “This way,” he hissed at Gimli, heading inland towards a narrow arroyo cut by water erosion into the cliffs.

“Underground?” Gimli asked in astonishment as he hurried after him, beckoning the Hobbits to say close.

Legolas gave him an unreadable look and threw another glare back at Gandalf. His eyes widened as he saw the first Orc come bounding around the outcrop, its hideous features even more contorted as it squinted against the sun.

Aragorn was waiting for it, his long sword slicing into it before it could see him. It howled though, an ear torturing screech that would bring the others of its foul kind....

“Run!” Gandalf roared, racing after the others.

Legolas broke into a lope, biting his lip against the fierce pain each jolting step sent stabbing through his shoulder. He led the way into the arroyo, ducking under a curving arch of golden stone that soared across it, stumbling as his legs quivered under him then forcing himself to straighten up and run on.

The arroyo twisted and turned, snaking through the cliffs until it seemed that they were threading their way through a maze. Finally through a narrow archway, it opened out suddenly into a tiny canyon like a pocket amidst the stone. Panting, Gimli and the Hobbits tumbled to a halt beside the Elf, staring around them. Rocks of shimmering gold, vivid copper and fiery red blazed around them, worn into intricate patterns of wind and water. Directly ahead of them the floor of the canyon was a perfectly smooth expanse of stone, its surface as smooth as a mirror. Around its edge was a stone border, woven in the twining leafy patterns so beloved by the Elves. At eight equidistant points around its circumference, a carved block of had been set into the ring; each engraved with a different symbol and made alternatively of amethyst and peridot.

 “The Gateway,” Gandalf panted in relief as he emerged from the arch behind them.

Aragorn and Boromir where close behind him.

“Wonderful, a cul-de-sac,” Boromir said sardonically. “Did you know where we were going, elf?”

Legolas raised a slim eyebrow at him. “Where Gandalf wished me to lead....”

“It doesn’t matter. We can defend this arch....” Aragorn interrupted.

“Oh aye, we can. But for how long?”

“Long enough I trust,” Gandalf snapped as he stepped up Legolas. “Well?”

Legolas ducked his head, but not before Aragorn had caught the stubborn expression on his face. “What’s going on?” he demanded sharply. 

“There are certain Pathways we can take that the Orcs cannot,” Gandalf said over his shoulder, refusing to take his eyes off the Sindarin. “And Legolas knows the way.”

“The Gateway is locked,” Legolas said flatly.

“And you are the key,” Gandalf said gently.

Legolas flashed one quick look at him. “You do not know what you ask,” he protested. “The Pathways were only meant for Elves....”

“I might have known; no Dwarves....” Gimli spat in disgust.

 “No, that is not what I meant,” Legolas appealed in protest. “You’re not...you’re mortal.....If you were to lose your way, you would never come out....Time runs differently on the Pathways....”

“That’s why you will guide us,” Gandalf said firmly and added more gently. “You will not be alone. I have travelled the Pathways with Thranduil....”

“But I don’t know if I can! I have never travelled the Pathways alone.....and Sauron’s influence has reached even here. It is too dangerous....”

“No more so than staying here,” Boromir argued, cocking his head at the sound of baying Orcs. The Orcs might have hesitated at following them into the arroyo and a possible trap, but they could sense the Ring and, more importantly, they could smell food...

Aragorn moved closer to his friend and rested his hands lightly on Legolas’ shoulders, meeting his gaze. He was starting to understand what Gandalf was asking. “Is it more dangerous than staying here to fight the Orcs? To perhaps lose the Ring to them?”

“And if we become lost on the Pathways the Ring may never be destroyed in time. And we may never walk these lands again....” Legolas argued then looked down at Frodo in surprise as the Hobbit touched his good arm.

“If that happens, then at least Sauron will never hold the Ring either,” he said quietly. “It will be out of his reach....”

Legolas swallowed hard, gazing down into the Hobbit’s trusting eyes. “I am not supposed to reveal such secrets....”

Boromir bellowed abruptly behind them, leaping to cut down an Orc that had foolishly run on ahead. Aragorn was beside him an instant later, hacking the head from an Orc that leaped at the Gondor man’s back. He could see the rest of them, milling about in the arroyo in a confused huddle. Sooner or later they would find their courage and swarm into the canyon to overrun them....

Legolas swung abruptly away from Frodo and stepped onto the stone border, pacing unsteadily along its side. A whisper of liquid syllables flowed from his lips, spilling into the air to raise up a shimmer of power that seemed to creep from the very stones.

“Ancient Quenya,” Gandalf said softly, watching Legolas as he stalked out the pattern. At the first symbol wedge, he stopped and bent, pressed his hand flat to the stone, gave it a half twist, named it and moved on. Behind him, the amethyst shimmered with internal silver light.  As the Elf caressed the second, peridot stone so the light grew stronger...

The wizard put an arm around Frodo and glanced back at the archway where Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli were grimly defending against the odd Orc that dared to make a run at them.

“A little more speed would be useful!” Aragorn called as he realised Gandalf was looking at them.

“He’s going as fast as he can,” Gandalf answered.

Legolas was oblivious to them, whispering to the path he traced. Behind him the blocks blazed like captured stars as he approached the last stone and knelt, placing both hands on it firmly. He turned his head to look at Gandalf.

“You must enter first,” he said flatly. “It should be an Elf, but if you have walked the Pathways before, they will know you at least.”

 Gandalf nodded grimly and stepped up to the edge of the gateway, peering over the edge into the mirror smooth stone. Following at his heels, Frodo followed his gaze, finding it hard to focus on the stone as it seemed to suddenly take on depths...

Gritting his teeth, Legolas gave the last stone a full twist, dragging it grating right the way around until it locked into place. The rush and surge of released air was like a wind blowing through his mind, sweeping all before it and setting his senses reeling with  thousand different scents and sounds and colours....

Then focus came back and he saw that the Gateway had opened and the shimmering stairway leading down into the depths had formed. Legolas blinked at it, distantly aware of blood running from his wounded shoulder to trickle down his arm and pool on the stone where his hand rested on it. He sensed the age of this Gateway, sensed other presences, non Elven presences that had passed this way. The magic was old, far older than he had imagined, old enough to have worn thin in places....

“Hurry....I do not know how long I can hold it open....” His voice sounded thin even to him and he saw the quick alarm flash across Gandalf’s face as he looked up at him. The wizard had already stepped over the boundary stones and started down the shimmering walkway. Now he motioned quickly to the Hobbits, helping first Frodo, then Sam and the others over the edge onto the stairs. His staff flared to light as he led the way downwards, following the winding stair into the darkness below.

A shadow fell across Legolas and he flinched slightly, then looked up to focus with an effort of Gimli.

“That doesn't look too safe too me,” the Dwarf muttered as he peered over the edge.

“Not afraid of heights, are you?” Legolas managed to mock.

Gimli snorted, then paused looking at the blood dribbling down the Elf’s hand. “Elf?” he said quietly.

“Follow them, Gimli. Gandalf may have need of your axe....” Legolas urged. “I do not know what awaits them...”

Gimli scowled, hefting the axe in question but he looked back at the arch. “Aragorn! The Elf will need help.”

“I will bring him. Go!” Aragorn called back.

Gimli grunted, but he scrambled over the ring and started downwards, jogging noisily down the shimmering stairway to vanish into the shadows. Shadows that seemed to thicken before Legolas’ blurring vision.

Shaking off the urge to topple forward, Legolas pulled back. There seemed to be an argument going on behind him. Boromir was arguing as usual over who was going to bring up the rear.

“Boromir, we don’t have time for this. Stop arguing with me and go!” Aragorn roared abruptly.

Boromir swore at him but abruptly swung around and raced to the Gateway. Swinging a long leg over the stone outer ring, he met Legolas’ blue eyes. “Both of you get a move on,” he snapped as he caught his balance on the ghostly steps and stamped one foot, checking their solidity before he turned and bounded downwards.

The darkness seemed to have filled the gateway, pouring upwards like dark water filling a well and Boromir seemed to vanish almost instantly from view.

Legolas wasn't quite sure whether that was good or not. His head was starting to spin and the loss of blood starting to tell, weakening him as he poured his energy into holding the Gateway.

Aragorn’s hand was suddenly warm on his shoulder, breaking through an icy chill he hadn’t truly felt. “Go, I cannot hold it for much longer....” Legolas whispered as he looked up at him.

Aragorn tightened his grip. “We go together or not at all...” he answered and looked back with a start of horror as the Orcs finally found their courage and, realising the arch was finally undefended, came seething through it in a screaming, howling horde....

They were almost on them when the Ranger swung around and grabbed the Elf, literally flinging himself and Legolas over the edge onto the steps below. Aragorn felt the chill of the steps under his back, saw the first Orc appear above them, clawed hands reaching for them then, the world seemed to spin and the Orc was rushing away from them, spinning away into a tightening pinprick of light far above them.....

And the steps vanished from beneath him and he was falling, tumbling head over heels through star filled space...

And there was nothing and no one, endless silence and empty void that stretched the mind to screaming point....

Filled suddenly by the rush of wind and a burst of light and the sudden painful impact with extremely solid earth....

Dazed and groggy, sucking in vast whoops of air, Aragorn rolled painfully over onto his side and peered around him.

Boromir was standing a couple of feet away, cradling an unconscious Legolas in brawny arms. He quirked an eyebrow at the Ranger. “I could have caught you, but I thought the Elf would be lighter....” he said dryly as he lowered the Elf gently to the ground at Gandalf’s insistence.

“What...happened?” Aragorn wheezed.

“Legolas wasn't quite in complete control at the end,” Gandalf answered as he plucked bloody cloth aside and probed at the Elf’s shoulder. Even in unconsciousness Legolas whimpered in protest.

“Really?” Aragorn hissed sarcastically as he levered himself into a sitting position.

“The stairs should have held until you reached bottom, but the power that created the Gateway has worn thin without repair,” the wizard continued blandly. “The stairs failed when Legolas passed out. Fortunately, distance is as relative as time and space here.”

“Otherwise the two of you would be splattered all over the floor,” Boromir said with what Aragorn considered to be totally misplaced humour. On the other hand, they were alive, mostly unhurt and not about to be massacred by Orcs. Gingerly Aragorn sat up and looked around him.

They were in a round, rough hewn chamber apparently carved from the solid rock. Eight archways held solid looking stone doors, each marked by a stone set into the top of the arch above it on which was a carved a different symbol.

Pippin was already testing doors, poking and prying as was his wont to see if he could open any of them. Merry was following him, looking uncertain was to whether to help him or hit him. Frodo and Gimli were examining the round circle of stone inlaid into the floor of the chamber, while Sam had decided to help Gandalf look after their wounded companion.

Aragorn looked up at Boromir as the Gondor man stood over him with folded arms. Seeing that he had his attention, he offered the Ranger a hand in getting to his feet and then gestured upwards. Overhead there was nothing but the black rocky vaults of a ceiling that sparkled with inset quartz crystals.

“No stairs,” Boromir pointed out shortly. “What did the Elf do?”

Aragorn blinked, looking slowly at Gandalf as he bent over Legolas as he started to stir.  “Opened a Gateway....”

“To where? We’re locked in here!” Boromir waved a quick hand around him.

“I think that is because we’re not Elves,” Aragorn answered him slowly.

“Aragorn is correct. The Pathways will allow us to go no further without a guide,” Gandalf put in as he sat back to watch Legolas carefully. “They were only ever meant for Elven kind. Even the Istari have been rarely allowed the privilege of travelling on them. According to the legend, they lead to rare and wonderful places far beyond our world.”

“Even beyond the Shires?” Pippin asked in wonder, coming closer. 

“Far, far beyond the Shires,” Gandalf assured him in amusement. “Some say, even to other worlds.”

“Like the Faeries realms,” Gimli commented. “It’s said that if you enter a barrow you can think you’ve been gone only for a moment, but when you return....forever has passed.”

“Legolas said time runs differently here....” Sam whispered uncertainly, looking around in sudden unease.

“There are many layers to the Pathways; time is one of them,” Gandalf agreed solemnly. “But Legolas is....”

“Awake.....” said the Elf, opening sapphire eyes to glare at the wizard. “And objects to being talked about....”

“And is bad tempered....” Boromir commented dryly.

Legolas gave him a cool stare as, moving with studied care, he sat up to look around him. “I take it the portals are sealed?”

“They don’t even have any locks to pick,” Pippin said sadly and earned himself a stern glare from everyone.

Legolas sniffed, started to push up on his good arm and then froze for a second.

“You need to rest,” Aragorn said sharply. “But is this place safe? Can the Orcs get in?”

“This place is...warded....” Legolas said slowly.. “Sometimes the Gateways are used as an escape route. Someone could be hurt....”

“Like you,” Aragorn said gruffly. “Is that why the Portals are sealed?”

Legolas inclined his head. “It is....automatic. To make certain that those who do not know the way cannot travel further than the Gateway.”

“Can these paths take us to Mordor?” Frodo suddenly blurted.

Legolas gave him a sorrowful look. “No,” he said softly. “The Pathway to that...place was...removed long ago. Few Gateways remain. One in my lands, one in Lothlorien...I did not know that this one was here....” He gave Gandalf a reproachful look and the wizard had the grace to look uncomfortable.

“Yes, well...” he mumbled.

“You knew....” Legolas said coldly. “You led us here....”

Gandalf sighed. “We needed to make up time. I hoped to be able to persuade you. But I did not expect the Orcs to pursue us....”

“You could have got us killed,” Boromir rumbled. “If Legolas hadn't been able to open the Gateway.....”

“I knew he could. Thranduil told me of his son’s ability,” Gandalf said quietly. “He is very proud of his son....”

Boromir’s expression tightened with a private hurt and he scowled. “That’s as maybe. But you took a risk....”

“The Gateway might have failed,” Legolas agreed darkly.

“But it didn’t,” Aragorn interrupted flatly. “We are here now, Legolas. Will you lead us or must we go back and fight our way through the Orcs?”

Legolas gave him a glittering stare of annoyance. “I will lead you...if I can.”

“If?” Gimli said sharply.

Legolas sighed. “The Pathways change, when one is removed, or fails, the others change. Sauron’s black influence came here also....Things stalk this place that do not belong here...”

“Can you take us to Lorien?” Gandalf asked.

“That is possible. At least to the outskirts of the forest. I do not know if the Elves there have closed the Pathways beyond.” He slid a sidelong glance at Gandalf. “But Aragorn is right, I must rest first or I may lead us astray.”

Gandalf smiled faintly. “We could all do with a rest.”

“And a bite to eat,” Pippin piped up.

“Don’t you ever think of anything else?” Merry exclaimed.

“You had a breakfast,” Aragorn reminded him blandly.

“An apple hardly counts as a proper breakfast and that was hours and hours ago and I've nearly been drowned and shot since then. We should have had a second breakfast by now and brunch and maybe elevenses and.....”

Merry slapped one hand over his friend’s mouth in a desperate effort to shut him up.

“I am hungry also...” Legolas said quietly, giving them an apologetic little smile as they all gave him a shocked look. “I have been wounded,” he added plaintively.

“He’s right,” Aragorn said hastily. “A wounded Elf has to eat....”

“Lemnas bread will do....when I have rested a little....” Legolas offered shyly.

“You need more than that,” Aragorn snorted with a wry grin. “I've seen you eat your way through half an ox when you’ve been wounded before....”

“Can we build a fire here?” Sam asked hopefully, already rummaging in his pack for supplies.

“Not here, I will show you....” Legolas said quietly then paused uncertainly. “Could someone help me up?” he asked hopefully.

Aragorn moved quickly, easing the Elf to his feet. He felt lighter than normal and the Ranger tightened his grip on him, eyeing him worriedly. Legolas however, wanted to move and Aragorn reluctantly supported him across the chamber to one of the portals. Placing his hand on the star shaped symbol in the middle, Legolas leaned towards it, his eyes closed in concentration.

The door suddenly disappeared under his hand and Legolas swayed forward. Aragorn snatched him back before he could fall flat on his face. Cool air brushed the Ranger’s face, sweetly scented by the scent of green growing things. Water gurgled softly near by....

For beyond the portal lay a garden, cupped within a cave and lit by cresset lamps but still a garden with grass and flowers and a spring spilling from a the rock into a stone carved basin that was shaded by a heavily fruited apple tree ....

“There is a hearth....” Legolas said quietly,.

“I don’t see.....” Boromir began then broke off as Legolas gestured with his good arm at a circle shaped hearth growing up from the floor. “Elven magic, hmmh?”

Legolas gave him a shy smile. “If you like....”

“Couldn’t come up with a handful of dancing girls too maybe?”

“Boromir!” Aragorn barked in exasperation.

Boromir spread his hands in exasperation. “Only asking....”

“Aragorn,” Legolas practically whispered in the Ranger’s ear as he rested his blond head slowly on Strider’s shoulder. “I do not wish to worry you, but I need to lie down....”

“Trust me, I'm already worried,” Aragorn retorted gruffly, but he steered the Elf over to the apple tree and helped him sit down with his back resting against the wood of the trunk. “This place provides what you need?” he asked as he loosened the packing from the Elf’s wounded shoulder.

“Here....yes....a resting place....” Legolas’ eyes were starting to glaze as his instincts drew him towards trance.

“Kingsfoil?” Aragorn pressed.

“Yes....” Legolas whispered, then his eyes closed and he switched off, melting back against the trunk as he slid into the healing reverie.

“Is he all right?” Gimli demanded.

Startled to find the Dwarf at his shoulder, Aragorn jumped in surprise and then nodded. “He’s put himself into a healing trance to recover. I need to find some Kingsfoil to help him. Will you watch him?”

“Like a hawk,” Gimli assured him gruffly as he plucked an apple off the tree and settled to the ground. As Aragorn moved away to rummage through the underground garden, he studied the Elf thoughtfully. Although no one had said anything, he suspected that Legolas had been drained by the curse he had barely recovered from and it had slowed his reaction times.

“Worried, Gimli?” Gandalf asked as he stooped to peer into the Elf’s face.

“About the Elf? Nooo....” Gimli scoffed.

Gandalf smiled at him knowingly. “Of course not,” he said in amusement, patting the Dwarf’s solid shoulder.

“He said he needed to eat,” Gimli said darkly. “Then he goes and dozes off!”

“He will recover faster if he rests a little, then eats. He knows what he’s doing.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Gimli grunted and took a savage bite of his apple. “He’ll be all right then? Not that I'm bothered, mind, but he’ll slow us down if he’s wounded....”

“Your concern is appreciated,” Gandalf said dryly. “He will recover.” Giving Gimli another pat, the wizard went to reassure the Hobbits who were peering anxiously in the Elf’s direction.

Gimli took another bite of his apple and considered Legolas with a scowl. “You’d better be all right, Elf, they’re all worrying about you.....Aragorn’s fretting. I might even admit to being a mite perturbed myself. After all, according to the wizard, we need you to guide us out of here....”

                                                            * * *

No one was quite sure how long Legolas spent in his trance. It was difficult to tell time within the cave for the light never changed and the only sound to be heard was the soft murmur of the water. Sam made his fire and fixed a hot meal for everyone, putting aside a plateful for the Elf for when he woke. At Gandalf’s quiet suggestion they all settled down to rest while they had the chance to do so in safety.  Aragorn packed Legolas’ wounded shoulder with Kingsfoil and bandaged the wound again with clean cloths, all without disturbing the Elf from his trance. That done, Boromir and Aragorn found a corner to themselves to discuss plans and were soon joined by Gandalf.

Merry and Pippin decided to explore the cave, curious to see how far it went. Sam after failing to persuade Frodo to play a simple game with him since his friend wanted to sleep, turned to Gimli and the two of them had soon drawn a board in the dirt and were playing draughts with pebbles.

“Is it wise to go to Lothlorien?” Boromir asked dubiously. “Everyone’s heard of the Elf woman who dwells there....She’s said to be dangerous.”

“He has a point,” Aragorn said slowly. “Galadriel may not be pleased to see us knowing what we bear.”

“She also has great power. We may be able to persuade her to help us.”

“I don't see how she can help us,” Boromir snorted.  “What we need is an army. Elrond wasn't willing to offer his Elves to fight. Why should she be? Cowering behind their leafy walls, the Elves will be safe from the forces of Sauron.”

“No one will be safe,” Gandalf said grimly. “And they will not be cowering....”

“No? Everyone knows the Elves are withdrawing to the safety of the Grey Havens. Strange how they’ve chosen to do that as soon as Sauron appears again.”

“My people are not cowards, Boromir,” Legolas said coldly startling them all as he approached, footsteps silent as leaf fall as he moved.

“No, you’re immortal. Must be easy to be brave when you’re immortal....”

Legolas raised a slender eyebrow and touched his wounded shoulder lightly. “Do you think we cannot be hurt? Killed? We are not invulnerable....And you forget, Boromir, that my people have already fought Sauron many times. We have allied with humans time and time again to fight his evil in all its forms. We remember.....” Legolas’ voice was soft, saddened... “We have watched your people become what you are now, we have watched you become...civilised. Yes, the time has come for many of us to return to our own home land, but it also time for us to step aside so that man may go on. If we do not, there will be a time when man turns against us....”

“No....” Aragorn protested that, but Gandalf lowered his head sadly.

Legolas smiled at his friend. “Are not some men jealous of us already? We are all that some men long to be.  And some will always want to destroy what they cannot have. You know this....”

“Elves aren’t perfect,” Boromir countered.  “The way you resent the Dwarves....”

“True, but I do not claim we are perfect. Some Elves resent humans for being weak and power hungry.....” Legolas said calmly, meeting Boromir’s eyes with his penetrating gaze. “For kings being swayed by the rings....”

Boromir stiffened and glanced at Aragorn. “Elves helped make those rings....” he spat.

Legolas inclined his head. “Yes, some are proud of that and some grieve for it....”

“Some Elves think they are superior and you resent the interpretation they put on events. One man is weak and so, all men are weak. One Dwarf is a butcher of Elves and so, all Dwarves are butchers. One Elf is arrogant and dismissive of humans and so all Elves are....” Aragorn added quietly.

“You see?” Legolas said quietly, watching the thoughtful expression cross Boromir’s face. “You know no Elves at all but for me. Nor did Gimli....” He glanced at the Dwarf who had left his game with Sam and come over to listen. Sam had followed him and looked uneasy. “I do not suppose I am any more what you expected, than Gimli is what I expected.”

Gimli grunted at that. “Oh, I don’t know, you’re still a ruddy know it all.”

Legolas smiled at him. “And as I suspected you do sleep with your axe.”

Boromir smiled reluctantly, accepting the truth of what the Elf said. Legolas was far removed from the prissy Elf sighing over trees that he had half imagined him to be. There was a great deal more to the warrior Elf than ethereal poetry and wafting about forests and the Gondor man found himself wondering how different Mirkwood would be to the hushed halls of Rivendell. He had wondered why Elrond had sent the younger Elf instead of one of the more powerful Rivendell Elves, but he had come to acknowledge that Legolas had been the ideal choice. “That doesn’t change the fact that Elrond won’t fight.”

“I think.....Elrond sees more than we know....” Legolas said slowly, darting an uncomfortable glance at Gandalf.

Gandalf inclined his head slightly. “Do not make the mistake of thinking that the cities of man will be Sauron’s only targets,” he said quietly. “The Elves will have their own battles to fight. Legolas’ people have been fighting to save Mirkwood from the darkness for a long time....Orcs will come against Thranduil, against Elrond and Galadriel also.”

Legolas gazed back at the wizard for a long moment and gave a sudden shiver, hugging his arms around himself as he paled.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Aragorn said hastily, scrambling up to make the Elf sit down. Legolas leaned on him, silently accepting his orders as he sank to the ground. “You need.....” The Ranger broke off with a smile as Sam pushed briskly between him and Legolas, offering the plate of food to the Elf. Legolas took it with a grateful smile.

“I do not think anyone could resent a Hobbit,” he said affectionately.

Sam knelt beside him. He wasn't sure why, but he always had less trouble in believing that Legolas was a Prince than he did in believing that Aragorn was a king in exile. “What about the Shires?” he asked quietly. “Will they be safe?”

“I do not know, Sam. That is not something I can see.” Legolas looked at Gandalf again, seeking his guidance.

“The Shires are no threat to Sauron,” Gandalf said noncommittally. “Now, you should eat before it gets cold, Legolas.”

Sam gazed at the wizard silently for a long moment, a flicker of disappointment on his face. He knew Gandalf’s failure to give him a straight answer was an answer in itself. The Shires were no safer than anywhere else. That was partly why he was going on the quest, why he would risk his life to support Frodo. To save the Shires, his friends, Rosie....

“I’ll get you an apple, shall I?” he said with an effort at his normal good humour.

As the Hobbit trotted off on his self appointed task, Boromir let out a long sigh. “My apologies, Elf,” he said gruffly. “Too often I think only of Gondor. Sam has reminded me that there others less able to protect themselves, other reasons to fight and do the right thing than for what there is to gain....”

Aragorn slapped him on the back, feeling a surge of companionship for the bluff soldier.  “True enough,” he agreed. “But, are we decided to go to Lorien or not, Gandalf?”

“I think we must....” Gandalf said slowly.

Legolas cocked his head to one side, studying him as he chewed carefully. “Very well...” he said mildly.

“You sound confident suddenly,” Gimli observed.

Legolas smiled faintly. “I know the way now.”

“Dreamed it, did you?” Gimli mocked.

“In a way....” Legolas murmured with a maddening lack of explanation as he gave his full attention to his meal, dedicating himself to eating with a concentration that spoke of rapacious hunger.

                                                            * * *

“Eight doors, eight choices, I assume....” Boromir said as he looked around the chamber. He cocked his head to one side as he looked at Aragorn. “One each maybe?”

 “Yes...” Legolas answered from where he stood on the stone circle in the middle of the chamber, studying each archway thoughtfully.

“Shouldn’t there be nine then?”

Legolas looked over his shoulder at him and smiled faintly, looking at Sam and Frodo as the two Hobbits stood close together. “Sam will follow where Frodo leads,” he said softly, making the gardener blush. Frodo looked at his friend and smiled, grateful for his friendship.

“Best if you pick the door then, no telling where we might end up if one of us opens one,” Gimli said gruffly.

“Sometimes where we most wish to be, sometimes where we most need to be,” Legolas said quietly. “And if Sauron’s influence is too strong, sometimes where we wish not to go at all.”

“That would be Mordor then, where I need to be but do not wish to go,” Frodo sighed. “But you said that Pathway was closed...”

Legolas didn’t answer, but moved silently across the chamber to a dark shadowed doorway. “This way lies Mordor,” he said grimly. “I can feel it beyond....” His blue eyes widened suddenly, becoming dark midnight pools as he reached out and laid his hand lightly against the cold stone. They all heard him gasp as his shoulders tensed, fighting to pull back....

Aragorn lunged for him, grabbing the Elf by the shoulders. For one horrible second, he felt the evil darkness that was in Mordor howling in fury as it attempted to suck the elf into its grasp, heard the screams, smelt the stench....

Then he was wrenching Legolas backwards, tumbling to the floor with the Elf clasped in his arms....

Legolas twisted in his grip and Aragon held on tight, frightened that the Elf would return to open the portal. He felt the darkness welling up inside him like poison, knew that it would be so easy to open the portal and felt himself start to drown....To survive, all he had to do was force the Elf once more to the door.....

“No....” Legolas squirmed off him and lithely turned over, leaning forward to lightly touch his fingertips to the Ranger’s forehead. A flash of brilliance sparkled through his mind, a wash of sunlight dappled forest....then Legolas withdrew, leaving Aragorn oddly bereft. Panting, Aragorn stared up at his friend in bewilderment as Legolas knelt beside him, cradling his wounded arm.

“The path is corrupted,” Legolas said flatly and for a second his eyes were haunted.

Aragorn managed to struggle into a sitting position, feeling his head throb viciously. “What....happened?” he croaked painfully.

“The door is trapped. It wanted Legolas to open it,” Gandalf said grimly, having gone to inspect the doorway. He retuned to kneel beside Aragorn, studying first him and then the Elf. “Are you hurt?” he asked quietly.

Aragorn shook his throbbing head and gingerly massaged his temples. He had achieved a mental rapport with Legolas before, had shared it with his beloved Arwen, he knew that Legolas had broken him from Mordor’s grip. “I'm sorry....” he began and looked at Legolas in surprise as the Elf touched his arm.  His blue eyes were reassuring when he looked up at the Elf.

“I did not expect....that....” Legolas said slowly. “Gandalf, we must be very careful....It reached through me to Aragorn....”

“Did Sauron see you?” Gandalf asked in alarm.

“No, whatever lies beyond that portal hungers for its freedom and feeds on the....darkness that is Mordor. But it was not Sauron...”

“So, we don’t go that way then,” Gimli said briskly. “Pick another door, Elf.”

Legolas gave the Dwarf a haughty look, but he picked himself up and looked carefully at each of the doors in turn. “This one,” he decided finally and stalked over to it. As he reached it however, he paused and looked uncertainly at Gandalf. With a slight nod, the Istari came to his side and studied it with him.

“I sense nothing from beyond it,” he said quietly.

Legolas straightened up and pressed his hand lightly to the symbol in the centre of the door. In response to his touch, the stone shimmered from black to silver and the door melted away, revealing a long dark tunnel that stretched away into the darkness. As the Fellowship gathered behind the Elf and the wizard to peer into the shadows, torches started to flicker to life along the walls.

“Strange new lands, hmmh?” Boromir said sceptically. “Looks like an old mine tunnel to me...”

“But does it lead to Lothlorien?” Aragorn asked, hanging back uncomfortably. The idea that Mordor had reached out to him made him uneasy, made him wonder if he would be the weak link among them. He found himself reluctant to come to near to his friend, afraid of the attention his presence might draw towards the Elf.

“In the direction of Lorien at least,” Legolas said quietly and a mischievous smile sparkled in his eyes. “This is Gimli’s path of choosing....”

“What?!” screeched the Dwarf.

Legolas’ smile only widened in amusement. “Shall we go? The road is long and we have miles to go before we sleep....”

                                                            * * *

“Miles to go he says,” Gimli snorted several hours later as he picked his way carefully over the rubble strewn floor of the winding tunnel. Gandalf and Legolas were up ahead somewhere, then the Hobbits followed by a watchful Boromir and Gimli and behind them Aragorn, guarding the rear. The Dwarf kicked irritably at a heap of stones. “See this? No self respecting Dwarf would let a shaft get into this condition. Ach, it’s a mess....”

“These tunnels have obviously not been used in a long time,” Boromir said quietly, glancing at the rough hewn walls that surrounded them. “Are they Dwarven?”

“No, too smooth to be Dwarf handicraft, too rough to be Elf. They like to polish things...Aesthetic they call it. Carve a mine prop with leaves they would....”

Boromir smiled, amused by the Dwarfs grumbling. By now, he like the others, all knew that Gimli hid his gruff good nature behind a curmudgeonly tongue. It was perhaps why he got on well with the Dwarf; they shared similar views on the world. Now, he glanced back at Aragorn, aware that the Ranger had been hanging back since his encounter with the trapped door. It was something that bothered him; made him wonder if Aragorn had been more affected by whatever had lurked beyond the door than he had said. If he had somehow come under Sauron’s influence they were all doomed. “What do you think, Strider?” he asked casually. “You’d know if they were Elven.”

“Elven, certainly. But no one has passed this way in too long,” Aragorn answered slowly.  “It feels....decayed somehow, as if the Elven powers fade and something else, something inimical to life replaces it. Whatever lay beyond that door was seeking to feed....”

Eyeing him uneasily, Boromir felt a disturbing tendency to shiver. “Wonderful,” he said dryly. “We’re been invited to dinner, except we’re the main course....”

Aragorn’s mouth turned up at the corners in a faint smile. “I think you might be a little too tough for it....”

Boromir snorted but reluctantly smiled back. “Maybe I’ll stick in its craw then.”

“I apparently didn’t,” Aragorn said ruefully.

“You fought it off,” Gimli argued.

“No, Legolas fought it off. It is immensely powerful. It reached through Legolas to me because...” Aragorn paused thoughtfully. “Ah.....”

“Ah, what?” Boromir prompted sharply. He and Gimli had both come to a halt to eye him suspiciously.

 “I was wrong,” the Ranger said quietly. “It wanted me to force Legolas back to the door. I was the tool it wanted to use to catch him...”

“Why would it want a long skinny drink of water like an Elf?” Gimli scoffed.

“Energy, power.....Legolas walks this paths by right. Through him it could control the paths not merely wander them....”

Boromir frowned at him. “You think its trapped here?” he asked.

“Or was set here as a guardian to see what it could catch....” Aragorn lifted his head, peering down the dark tunnel ahead. “Where are the others?”

Startled Boromir turned to look. “They were right ahead of us....” he protested.

“Maybe there’s a bend in the tunnel. We’ll catch up...” Gimli assured the two men briskly as he set off at a steady trot. Exchanging a worried glance, Boromir and Aragorn followed him hastily, heading into the gathering shadows as a cold frost laden wind blasted past them....

                                                            * * *

Reaching out hastily, Legolas snagged Frodo by one arm as the wind threatened to snatch the Hobbit from his feet. He propelled him over against the ice covered wall, urging him into a narrow split in the frozen rock where he had already shoved Pippin and Sam for safety.

“What happened, Legolas?” Pippin squeaked, gazing huge eyed up at the snow covered Elf who had plunged back out into the snow to retrieve Frodo before he was swept away.

“I do not know. The pathway twisted out of my control....” Legolas answered uncertainly as he blinked snow from his eyelashes and peered out into the white swirling blizzard that had blown up out of nowhere.

Behind him the Hobbits huddled together, shivering with the sudden cold after the relative warmth of the tunnels.

“What about the others?” Sam fretted.

“I must look for them...” Legolas agreed, taking a step forward. Frodo grabbed for the edge of his cloak and yanked, hard.

“No,” he argued firmly. “You mustn’t leave us.....”

“You will be safe here,” Legolas reassured him, attempting to dislodge his grip.

Frodo however shook his head grimly. “No,” he repeated. “I'm not worried about us, I'm worried about you.”

“Me?” Legolas gazed down at him in astonishment.

“Aye, Frodo’s right. You’re hurt,” Sam agreed.

“And something out there wants....you....Not us. You.....” Frodo said firmly. “Gandalf said we should stay with you....That we weren’t to let you go off on your own.”

Legolas’ stared at him incredulously. “But I'm an Elf. This is only snow. It doesn’t bother me....” he argued, waving his good hand. Sam promptly grabbed it and Pippin seized the Elf’s tunic. With the three Hobbits pulling at him determinedly, Legolas had no way to break free without hurting them and soon found himself wedged into the gap in the rock with the others.

“This is foolishness!” he complained, attempting to free his hand unsuccessfully from Sam’s grip. “Gandalf and Merry are lost somewhere in this blizzard....”

A flicker of uncertainty showed on Sam’s honest round face but it was Pippin who spoke up. “Don’t worry, Merry will look after Gandalf. They’ll be fine....”

                                                            * * *

“It’s a blizzard!” Boromir bellowed, outraged by the blast of snow that smacked him in the face. They had emerged from the tunnel into the teeth of a raging blizzard that smothered them all with cloaks of snow

“It can’t be. We’re underground!” Gimli protested.

“It’s still a bloody blizzard!” Boromir shot back. “Aragorn, what now? How do we find the others?!”

The Ranger had moved slightly ahead, leaning into the force of the wind and crouching. “Footprints,” he called back. “They went this way....We must follow quickly, before the snow covers the tracks....”

Boromir scowled and swore under his breath, hitching his shield more securely over his shoulder as he scrunched through the deep layer of snow after Aragorn as he moved off.  “Know it all Ranger,” he muttered. “Gimli, you all right?”

“Small target, less wind resistant, lad. I'm fine,” Gimli retorted.

“Lucky you,” Boromir grunted, forging his way forward through the snow in the path Aragorn had made.

Gimli stomped after him, letting the bigger man act as a wind break. He still couldn’t understand where the blizzard was coming from; all his Dwarfish senses were telling him that they were still underground. “This isn’t natural,” he bellowed.

Boromir glanced back over his boulder at him, batting the snow out of his face with a gauntleted first. “You think I hadn't noticed?”

“Maybe it’s that thing from Mordor,” Gimli shouted. “Divide and conquer....”

A qualm of worry crossed Boromir’s face at that. “Aragorn!”

“What?”  The Ranger, a dark half seen shape up ahead, turned to look back over his shoulder at them.

“Gimli thinks something’s deliberately separated us from the others!” Boromir called, battling his way to catch up with the Ranger.

“Aye,” Gimli agreed grimly. “We’re together, but what about the others?”

“Gandalf’s with them,” Aragorn argued.

“So were we,” Boromir pointed out, his breath puffing in the icy wind. “Gandalf could have been split off from them as well....”

Aragorn stared at him for a moment, his eyes glittering as glacially as the icy wastes surrounding them. He turned again, facing out over the twisted ice torn landscape that faced them. Vast pillars of ice erupted upwards, groaning and shuddering as they speared up out of the snow.

“They’re out there?” Gimli whispered, aghast.

“I think the pathway twisted again,” Aragorn said quietly. “That’s how we were separated. The others could be anywhere now....”

“So what do we do?” Gimli fretted.

“We keep looking,” Boromir said grimly before Aragorn could speak. He met his blue eyes with a wry shrug.  “All we can do, right? Without the Elf we can’t get out of here. Without Gandalf we’ll probably freeze. And....” He gestured back over his shoulder. “There’s no way back anyway.”

Startled Aragorn peered past the Gondor man and saw that he was right; the path they had made through the snow led now to a blank ice covered wall down which rivers of falling snow slithered and trickled....  

                                                            * * *

“Did you hear something?” Frodo asked abruptly, lifting his head cautiously. In their cleft in the rock, they were relatively sheltered from the worst of the wind and snow and, once Legolas had reluctantly submitted to his captivity, they had been able to settle themselves comfortably. The Elf was surprisingly warm to snuggle up to, unconsciously sharing his own natural body warmth with them.

“Yes...” Legolas stirred, burrowing out from under a drowsy Pippin’s arm.

“It sounded like something....slithering....” Sam said uncertainly.

“An avalanche?” Frodo suggested, half hoping that was all it was.

“No.....” Legolas eased Pippin aside and slid to his feet, stepping over the tangle of Hobbits to peer out of the cleft. The wind was still howling past, whipping strands of blond hair above his face but the snow had stopped at last and visibility had improved.

The sound came again, a slow swishing scraping sound as if something, moving slowly, crept over the snow and ice towards them.

Legolas tilted his head, striving to get a bearing on the sound but thwarted by the whistle of the wind nipping at his sensitive ears. He could see nothing but snow, shaded by the colours of ice until the world shimmered with layers of grey and white and blue in shades no human would ever see. But he still could not see the source of the sound. A flicker of unease made him draw back slightly, concealing himself once more within the cleft of rock. He wished he had his bow. But the Hobbits had been taking turns to carry it and Merry had had it last.

“There’s something out there, isn't there?” Frodo whispered, pressing close to his side.

“I cannot see it or hear it, but.....yes.....” Legolas said quietly. “We should be quiet; perhaps it will pass us....” He paused, sniffing the air. There was something other than the scent of snow on the wind, a bitter metallic tang that he half knew....

 With a deafening crack a chunk of ice cracked from the ridge above them, crashing down in a fountain of snow as ice crystal thrown up by the impact sparkled in a dazzling aurora of colour. Claws appeared on the lips of ice above them, long ivory talons that glinted with iridescent blue from deep within their outer sheath....

Legolas frantically slapped one hand over Frodo’s mouth as he drew breath to cry out and dragged him back into the cleft, gesturing urgently to the others to hold their tongues. Terrified the Hobbits huddled together as Legolas draw one of his white knives and twisted around to guard the entrance....

After what seemed like forever, the slithering sound came again, the sound of ice crunching above them as their stalker moved on...

“What is it?” Frodo whispered against Legolas’ sensitive ear when silence finally settled again.

The Elf resisted the urge to squirm as his breath tickled and ducked his head to whisper back. “Ice drake,” he told them.

“A snow dragon?” Sam’s eyes widened in awed terror.

“A big one,” Legolas confirmed. “It hunts....”

“I thought they were myths....” Pippin whispered.

“Bilbo saw Smaug killed.” Frodo said uncertainly. “I thought he was the last of the dragons....”

Legolas shook his head slightly.  “They hide and sleep....Man grew too good at killing them....”

“Well, this one’s definitely awake,” Pippin pointed out.  “I think we should go.”

“Go where?” Frodo snorted.

“To find Merry and Gandalf. The snow’s stopped now.” Pippin squirmed deftly around Sam whose hasty grab at him thwarted Legolas’ own snatch. The young Hobbit promptly scampered out into the snowy wilderness, skating on the ice and crouching to gather up a snowball. “Come on, come out! It’s gone....” He tossed the snowball, smacking Legolas in the chest.

Legolas gave him an outraged glare. “Come back in here immediately,” he snapped.

“Won’t!” Pippin laughed and stuck his tongue out at him, enthralled by the snow.  He scooped up more snow, patting it into two more balls.

“Stay here,” Legolas ordered the other Hobbits and slipped out of the cleft, darting towards Pippin. “You little fool....” he began, then broke off seeing that Pippin had frozen and was staring past him.

Fingering the sword he still held, Legolas turned his head very slightly to look behind him. At first he could only see the shadow on the ice, then gradually they resolved themselves into the shape of the dragon.

It lay across the top of the snowy mound of rock and ice that had been their shelter, blending into the snow until it looked like part of the scenery except for its eyes that glowed like midnight blue sapphires. Its hide was iridescent white, shot through with sparkles of blue and faintest lilac as it breathed. Spikes down the ridge of its back glittered like icy blue stalactites. Its eyes were fixed on Pippin and Legolas, studying them with the intensity that only a hunter can achieve. Huge long talons, easily the length of Aragorn’s sword flexed, ripping up a swathe of ice as the dragon rose to all four legs. Its long tail whipped like a lash as it gathered itself to pounce.

“Legolas?” Pippin quavered in fright.

Legolas took a firmer grip on his sword. “When I say run, run back to the others,” he said quietly. “I will draw it away.”

“But...” Pippin darted a look at the cleft where he could see Frodo and Sam watching fearfully. He knew he could run and hide, but what then? The dragon would see where he hid and come to winkle him out. Then it would find his friends too.... And what about Legolas? The Elf shouldn’t be dragon bait because of him....

“I’ll distract it!” he said loudly.

“Pippin, no. Do as I.....” Legolas began urgently, looking back at him in time to see Pippin square up to the dragon and hurl his snowball.

It slammed into the dragon’s right eye, filling it with snow and sludge and ice crystals. The second smacked into its nostril as the dragon inhaled to bellow in outrage at the impact of the first snowball. Instead of air it inhaled snow and choked, rearing back on its hindquarters with a violent sneeze.

“Can’t catch me!” Pippin yelled, his voice squeaking with fright as he spun on his heel and took off, spurting across the snow in a sprint.

The dragon howled, blinking snow from its eye as it leaped, sailing over Legolas head and knocking the Elf flat with the downdraught from a powerful beat of its wings.

Rolling over and dreading the feel of talons in his back, Legolas came swiftly to his feet and looked round wildly.

The dragon was pursuing Pippin, climbing for height and speed. ...

“Sam, stay with Frodo! Stay here!” Legolas roared at the two remaining Hobbits as they ventured out of hiding and sounding so much like Elrond in that moment that they didn't dare disobey. A moment later and Legolas was off and running, racing the dragon across the snow with a speed the Hobbits hadn’t known he was capable of.

Panic stricken by the roar of the dragon,  Pippin ran as fast as he could, terrified that he would trip and fall at any second, aware of his breath hammering and his pulse pounding as it became harder and harder to catch his breath....

The shadow of the dragon fell across him and he knew that at any second, the ice drake would be on him, sinking claws into his tender flesh, the long fangs like spears of ice biting through him...

He wanted to hide, wanted to plunge into the snow and burrow in as if that could save him....

The blast of air swept across him, making him swerve instinctively as the dragon overshot its target.

“Missed,” Pippin gasped as he stumbled in the snow then struggled up and stumbled on, shooting a frightened look up to see the dragon circling lazily back. To his horror he realised that it was playing with him.....

From the corner of his eyes, he saw it swoop and knew that this time it wouldn't miss....Half sobbing in terror, he flung himself forward, telling himself that if he could only make the tangle of ice jutting up from the snow ahead of him then it would be all right, the dragon would miss him....

Its shadow swept across him, he heard the gusty roar of it as it inhaled to breathe the icy blast that would freeze him to his bones....

And something plucked him off his feet, covering the last few yards to the icy outcrop in a roll across the snow before a soft cloak was whisked rapidly around him and he was held tight in powerful arms.

“Be still!” Legolas hissed in his ear. Breathless and too frightened to speak; Pippin clung to the Elf and peeked over his shoulder.

The dragon was roaring in fury, scanning the snowy ground in search of its prey that had seemingly vanished under its very nose. Landing with a thud on the icy outcrop to survey its surroundings suspiciously, it lashed its tail and clawed at the ice and rock, unwittingly showering its prey with the debris of its frustration.

Legolas winced, hugging Pippin closer with one hand as the tail thumped his back with bruising force and clinging to the edge of his Elven cloak with the other. Only the camouflage of its Elven weave stood between them and discovery now....

The dragon bellowed again, then lowered its head, sniffing at the snow as it detected the faint scent of food on the air.....

It snuffled closer and closer, huge nostrils quivering a bare fraction away from the cloak and those hidden beneath....

“Yay! Over here! Over here, frost face! Over here!”

The dragon lifted its head with a snort of surprise, peering out across the ice.....

Then it leaped down, its razor sharp claws barely missing Pippin and Legolas.....

“Yeah! Here, lizard! Over here....!”

The dragon started off, surprisingly agile for its size....

And Pippin peering out from under the edge of the cloth saw who was yelling and felt his stomach turn a somersault in panic.

“No! Merry!”

The dragon whipped around in surprise at the cry and roared, blasting the base of the rock with its icy breath. Pippin yelped in fright as ice formed over them, cocooning them. The dragon snarled, ducking his head to sniff at the shell of ice and then opening vast jaws to crunch....

Legolas shot to his feet with a yell, drawing his blades with a single movement to slice twin diagonal strips across the dragon’s questing nose.

With a scream of pain, the dragon reared back, scattering droplets of silvery ichor as it shook its head violently. 

Legolas grabbed Pippin by one arm and yanked him upright, flinging the Hobbit ahead of him. “Run!” he commanded.

“Legolas! Here, here!” Merry screamed, leaping up and down. “Come on...”

Legolas squinted at him, seeing a vague shimmering outline beside the excited Hobbit and sensing that Gandalf was close by.

The dragon was once more in pursuit, no longer playing as it bounded at speed over the snow, refusing to risk losing its prey by taking to the air.

Legolas accelerated; sure he could feel the dragon’s icy breath on the back of his neck. Overtaking Pippin, he scooped him up, flung him over his shoulder and put everything he had into sprinting. He only hoped Merry had a plan, because he wasn’t sure he could carry him as well....

He felt a burst of ice cold air surge past him, felt the solid pressure of it catch him in the side and spin him around, knocking him from his feet. He dropped Pippin, yelping as he landed on his sore shoulder....

The dragon reared over them, fangs glistening as it roared.....

And staggered back, blinking, raising one foot to bat at something in front it with a drowsy gesture then. with startling speed, it folded into the snow. The glittering blue eyes closed and the huff of its breath as it exhaled blasted Legolas and Pippin with a shower of snow....

Legolas and Pippin stared at it mutely, neither of them able to believe it hadn’t eaten them...

The ice dragon snuffled once, then curled peacefully into a ball and flipped its tail over its nose.

“Pippin!” Merry landed on his knees in the snow beside his friend. “Are you hurt? Legolas? Say something....”

Legolas blinked at him mildly. “Hello, Merry,” he said obligingly, totally baffling the Hobbit who had expected something a little more meaningful.

“Elves can be so pedantic,” Gandalf commented as he apparently materialised out of thin air beside them, shaking snow out of his long grey cloak. “And as for you, young fool of a Took....”

“I thought it’d gone,” Pippin protested breathlessly as he eyed the wizard in awe. “Did you use magic to save us? How’d you disappear?”

“Not by magic, but camouflage and a good Elven cloak,” Gandalf told him solemnly. “But what did you think you were doing?”

Legolas raised a slim eyebrow. He knew perfectly well that Gandalf had concealed himself by magic. He had seen the shimmer in the air that told him a spell was in effect. If he hadn't known Gandalf was there, he would have never have led the dragon towards Merry. He also knew it was no Elven made cloak that the Istari wore. “Do not blame Pippin,” he said softly however. “He was brave to want to lead the dragon away from his friends.”

Pippin’s eyes flashed to the Elf and he blushed in mingled pleasure and embarrassment as Legolas smiled at him. Gandalf snorted irritably.

“Did you kill it?” Merry asked as he helped Pippin to get up and briskly started brushing him off.

“No, it’s only a sleep spell,” Gandalf said mildly, waiting to for Legolas to rise to his feet.

“Good,” Legolas told him firmly as he brushed himself off.

“Good?” Both the Hobbits looked at him in astonishment.

“It was going to eat us!” Pippin protested.

“We should kill it....” Merry added grimly.

“Why? For following its own nature? They are rare enough now....”

“You’re not going to make a pet of it. Thranduil would be furious,” Gandalf said flatly and to the astonishment of the Hobbits, Legolas actually looked uncomfortable.  “Now, where are the others?”

“Sam and Frodo are that way,” Legolas answered promptly, pointing. “But I do not know where the others are. The Pathway twisted and we were separated.....”

“Yes, yes, I felt that,” Gandalf agreed. “Can you find them and lead us back to the path?”

“I can find them. But we must take another path now. This one is broken. And....” He glanced at the slumbering dragon. “I do not think the ice drake will sleep forever....”

Gandalf frowned thoughtfully. “Has it occurred to you that we are perhaps being...guided?” he asked slowly, with a cautious glance at the Hobbits.

Legolas gave him a mirthless smile. “I would call it driven....”

                                                            * * *

“Are we lost?” Boromir asked suspiciously as he stood beside Aragorn on the snowy crest of the ridge that they had spent half an hour laboriously climbing up.

“No....” Aragorn answered quietly, glancing back to make sure Gimli was all right. The Dwarf had found himself a convenient rock to sit on and was resting quietly while he let the men make their minds up as to their next move. He and the others had grown used to the subtle – and sometimes not so subtle - jockeying for position between them.

“Misplaced then. As in not exactly knowing where we are?”

Aragorn allowed himself a grudging smile. “I am sure Legolas is likely to spot us long before we see him,” he said easily.

Boromir grunted. “Be less embarrassing if we found them,” he muttered.

“Ah, but they are the ones who are lost,” Aragorn pointed out. “We stayed on the path and only strayed in search of them.”

Boromir looked at him askance and suddenly laughed. “Aye, you’re right there...”

“At least one of the Hobbits came this way,” Gimli observed mildly as they chuckled together.

“Oh?” Aragorn glanced at him curiously.

Gimli pointed at a spot by the Ranger’s boot. “Apple core,” he observed. “Equals apple, equals Hobbit....”

“I knew that,” Aragorn said quickly. “I was merely waiting to see if either of you noticed it....”

Boromir snorted and Gimli chuckled into his beard. “There also seems to be a bit of a path here....” the Dwarf added. After all, it wouldn't do to let Aragorn get too cocky for his own good. He wasn't king yet after all and the occasional lesson in humility wouldn't hurt.

Aragorn glared at him.

“Stands to reason they'd follow a path if they found one,” Boromir needled. “The Hobbits would anyway.”

Aragorn glared at him as well and started down the path, stomping irritably over the crunchy ice and snow. Exchanging grins, Gimli and Boromir followed their erstwhile leader downhill.

The wind blew cold through the gap, veering sharply over the strange formations in the ice as they made their way deeper and deeper. Vast blocks seemed to have been cut from the snow, forming cubes like giant steps leading upwards.

Aragorn eyed the walls above them, calculating how solid it was. Here and there he could almost see faces in the ice, grimacing down at him with bare ice sabre fangs....

“Did anyone else here that?” Gimli asked suddenly.

“Aye, t’was a roaring sound....” Boromir agreed. “But from what direction?”

“Below us,” Aragorn answered grimly, reaching for his sword. “And it sounded like an ice drake hunting....” He broke into a long legged lope.

“Are there any still alive?” Boromir asked in surprise, lengthening his own stride.

“One would be too many,” Gimli growled as he broke into a reluctant jog to keep up “Dragons and Dwarves don’t mix well....”

“Elves rarely have trouble with them,” Aragorn answered.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Gimli grunted sourly, then saved his breath for running.

The trio slid and slithered their way down the remainder of the icy path, finally emerging between the buttresses of caked snow onto a plain where snow particles blurred the vision where the wind whipped it up.

Aragorn cupped his hands to his mouth. “Legolas!” he roared into the wind. “Gandalf! Frodo!” 

“You think they’ll hear you?” Boromir wondered.

“That Elf can hear a leaf fall...” Gimli grumbled.

“If they’re here....” Aragorn muttered. The Ranger drew another deep breath and bellowed again, then tucked his fingers into the corner of his mouth and whistled, high sharp and clear....

And after a second, a liquid trilling whistle responded....

“Legolas....” Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief and led the way forward, occasionally whistling again and waiting for the response before they moved on.

After what seemed like forever, Legolas trotted out of the mist of snow to lead them back to the outcrop of rock where the others huddled around Gandalf’s magical fire to keep warm. Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli joined them hastily, glad of the flames thawing the chill that had gradually crept through them.

“We were worried about you,” Frodo greeted them in relief. “You were missing for ages.”

“We were worried about you too. We heard an ice drake,” Aragorn answered, glancing out into the snow even as he ruffled the Hobbit’s curly hair.

“Oh, that,” Legolas answered casually. “It was only a small one.”

“A small one?” Pippin squeaked, paling. He was quite certain he was going to have nightmares about it. And if that was a small dragon....

“It probably thought you were a snack,” Merry taunted him.

Aragorn was staring at Legolas suspiciously. “How small?” he demanded.

Legolas gave a liquid shrug, a mischievous smile playing around his lips. “It was strange, I thought this looked like ice drake territory and then....”

“Big enough to have the pair of them for lunch,” Gandalf commented darkly. 

“Pippin led it away from me and Frodo and Legolas went after him...” Sam put in.

“I see. And you were planning to do what with it exactly, Legolas?” Aragorn asked dryly. “Ask it nicely to leave you and Pippin alone? It could have killed you....”

Legolas gave him a level look. “No, but I had no intention of fighting it. They’re far too rare to kill,” he said simply. “It was merely a matter of staying out of its sight until it grew bored. As it happens, Gandalf and Merry came along and distracted it. Gandalf put a sleep spell on it; otherwise I might have had to....remonstrate with it to discourage it....”

“Remonstrate...” Aragorn echoed faintly. He stared into his friend’s deep blue gaze for a moment and gave up. Knowing Legolas he had probably enjoyed every second of the encounter.

“If it’s only asleep, it might come back,” Boromir commented dubiously.

Legolas glared at him. “I will not allow you to kill it....”

The Gondor man however waved a casual hand. “Not me,” he assured him. “I don’t want all my arms and legs ripped off....”

“But I wouldn’t....” Legolas began, frowning uncertainly...

“Not by you, Legolas, he means the dragon....” Aragorn sighed.  “But he’s right, we should go....”

“You’re agreeing with me? What’s wrong? Are you feverish?” Boromir snorted.

“Oh shut up. We should get back to the path before we all freeze....”

“Or get eaten,” Pippin muttered with a nervous look round and was grateful for the arm Gandalf laid kindly across his shoulders. 

“This way then...” Legolas said briskly, settling the bow he had retrieved from Merry across his shoulder and taking several brisk strides before he realised the others were scrambling for their gear. Sighing under his breath, he stopped to wait for them with only the faintest air of impatience.

                                                            * * *

“And that one looks likes that Farmer Maggot in Hobbiton,” Pippin confided to Sam. The two Hobbits were picking faces out of the ice as they wound their way up through a defile back towards where Legolas said there should be a pathway. “All scrunched up and sour looking....”

“That’s because you and Merry took half his vegetable patch,” Sam pointed out, recalling with a shiver how close they had come to getting caught by the enraged farmer. And he would have been the one to get the blame!

Pippin grinned impishly. “That one looks like a ship....” he added. “Look, see the sticky up bit at the front? Like a, a....what do they call that bit, Frodo?”

Frodo squinted at the spire of ice that indeed looked like the prow of a ship. “A figurehead I think....”

“That one looks like a snow troll....” Boromir observed, joining the game by pointing to a broad shouldered bulk of ice and snow hunched to one side of the path.

Up ahead, Legolas and Gandalf had come to a halt and were warily eyeing the ice boulder Boromir was pointing at

Sam tugged nervously at Boromir’s cloak. “Um, is it me or is it moving?” he asked anxiously.

“I believe it’s twitching,” Boromir said slowly, automatically herding the Hobbits behind him and turning to look back down the path. Aragorn was bringing up the rear as usual with Merry skipping along beside him. From the expression on the Ranger’s face, Merry was once more earnestly explaining to him how he had helped Gandalf enchant the ice drake to save his friends.

“Should it be doing that?” Pippin asked.

“No....” Boromir said dryly.

“What’s wrong?” Aragorn had caught the look on the warrior’s face.

“I could be wrong, but we appear to have found a snow troll.”

 Aragorn stared at him then his shoulders drooped infinitesimally. “First ice drakes, now snow trolls, what next?” he sighed heavily.

“I get the distinct impression it’s better not to wonder....” Boromir told him. “Legolas said he was thinking of ice drakes...I thought that chunk of ice looked like a snow troll.....”

There was a sharp crack from up ahead and the great ice boulder shifted, sheets of ice splintering away from massive furry shoulders....

“Oh.....” said Boromir as Gandalf scrambled back down the path to them. Legolas darted after him, unshipping his bow from his shoulder.

“Could you think of something a little less threatening next time?” Aragorn said darkly.

“How was I to know?” Boromir protested as he unslung his shield and drew his sword.

“It’s not like he thought of a whole herd of them.....” Pippin pointed out. “Now that would be.....” His voice petered out into silence as the very earth seemed to groan and crack open and an ice hewed arm clawed its way up out of the snow.

“I think we should run,” Sam said firmly as Gandalf reached them.

“Excellent idea, Master Samwise,” the wizard agreed hastily. “Run!”

With Sam and Frodo leading the way, the Fellowship raced back down the icy slope they laboured up as behind them snow trolls broke out of their cocoons of ice and lumbered after them. Like glaciers calving, trolls seemed to burst forth from every sheet of ice and snow they fled past....

Legolas raced ahead, leading the way through the twists and turns of the ravine that seemed to grow ever more complicated as he searched for another way up and around the trolls. Finally he rushed through an archway blossoming from the ice and skidded to a halt in dismay, finding himself in a cul-de-sac as they others panting and gasping for breath tumbled after him.

“What-?” Aragorn looked around in horror.

“This is not supposed to be here!” Legolas yelped at him in outrage. “This should lead to the Pathway. Someone’s changed it....”

Boromir growled and swung back, staring back through the archways. The ravine behind them was filled with the greyish lumbering shapes of the heavily furred snow trolls. He could smell their thick meaty stench on the chill wind....

“We’re trapped,” he snarled in frustration.

“Perhaps not,” Gimli wheezed, slapping the ice pillar beside him that supported the archway. “This ice looks rotten to me. It will come down and block their path....”

“And trap us!” Boromir retorted.

“You have a better idea?” Gimli demanded as he swung his axe at the ice, the blade biting off a huge chunk of the softened ice.

Boromir shook his head, dark hair flying as he attacked the pillar on his side of the archway. Aragorn and Gandalf joined them as Legolas searched wildly for the exit he knew must be there.

“Get back!” Gimli bellowed abruptly as his side of the archway started to shimmy and twist. With a crack, a huge split ran through the ice and a chunk of frozen snow broke off from the top, shattering as it landed on the head of a troll.

The archway fell, ice the size of stone blocks and big enough to build a castle collapsed, shattering into shards and slivers of needle sharp ice that sliced dangerously in all directions as they all retreated.....

As the roar of the avalanche faded away, the low booming roars of the angry snow trolls could be heard on the far side of the collapsed archway.

“That won't hold them for long,” Aragorn panted. “Gandalf, can you not do something? A fire spell?”

“I dare not in such a confined space,” the Istari answered. “There is too much danger to us....I do not know what the magic of this place would do to mine. Legolas is right, the Pathways have been twisted indeed....There should not be Snow Trolls here, they do not live in the same lands as the ice drakes....”

“Don’t get on, do they?” Boromir said dryly.

A half smile curved Gandalf’s lips under his snow rimmed beard. “No, the ice drakes ate them all...”

“I see it!” Frodo called out suddenly. “Legolas is right! It’s here...”  Legolas had lifted the Hobbit up onto a shelf of ice and he had spotted a dark shadow that lay behind the ice wall above them. Chunks of ice made a jagged stairway leading upwards....

“We must climb....” Legolas said eagerly.

“Up there?” Merry gulped. “It looks awfully high....”

Pippin prodded him briskly in the arm. “Come on, I’ll hold your hand if you like....” Merry glared at him, but Pippin was already scrambling up into the first snowy step, letting Legolas help him up by making a stirrup of his hands. Aragorn boosted first Sam, then Merry after the other Hobbits.

“Is this the same pathway?” Aragorn murmured softly into Legolas’ ear as Boromir turned to help the Dwarf start the climb.

“No,” Legolas admitted, glancing back at the archway from beyond which he could hear the sounds of digging. Snow trolls had claws, huge scimitar shaped claws that were very good at digging through snow and ice....and flesh.... “But that barrier will not slow the snow trolls for long....”

“Wonderful, so I add mountain climbing to my new accomplishments....” Boromir commented as he set his hands flat on the first block of ice and shoulder pressed his way up to swing a leg over and roll onto the ice shelf.  

“Show off,” Aragorn muttered as he followed him. “Gandalf?”

The wizard looked up at the Ranger on the ledge above him as Aragorn offered him his hand.

“Come on, Gandalf, hitch up your skirts....” Boromir urged.

“You, Boromir, have a total lack of respect for your elders,” Gandalf sniffed.

Sliding a glance sideways at Aragorn and then down at the Elf, Boromir grinned handsomely. “Probably because, technically, I'm the youngest here,” he pointed out wryly.

Gandalf snorted, impatiently slapping Legolas’ hands aside as the elf attempted to help him with his robe. “I can manage, thank you,” he growled.

Legolas raised an eyebrow and said nothing. He glanced back sharply as with a  rumble a number of blocks tumbled from the archway.

“They’re breaking through,” Boromir said in alarm as he and Aragorn heaved at Gandalf.

“Climb, Hobbits!” Aragorn barked, sending Frodo and the others scrambling upwards.

“I am not a blasted barrel,” the wizard protested then gasped in outrage as Legolas gave him an unceremonious boost from beneath. As the wizard landed on the ledge, the Elf bounded after him, heading upwards with startling speed.

“Gravity defying Elves,” Gimli muttered sarcastically as Legolas seemed to melt around him and the Hobbits to reach the ice bound opening above.

“Can you open it?” Gandalf called sharply from below as he clambered upwards, leaving Aragorn and Boromir to defend them from the snow trolls as they started to force their way slowly through the gap.

“Now, he asks?” Aragorn muttered under his breath.

Legolas had spread himself against the rock, pressing against it as if he wanted to melt the ice with his own body warmth. He was whispering in frantic ancient Quenya, his hands caressing the ice as he drew rapid symbols with his fingertips....

“Yes!” he yelped at last as he felt the doorway energies respond to his touch. A second later he gasped and disappeared from sight, tumbling head first through the opening as the protective ice covering vanished...

“Hurry!” Grabbing the nearest Hobbit which happened to be Sam, Gimli shoved him through the gap after the Elf. Pippin slithered over the edge next, letting out a whoop of glee as he found himself on an ice slide and slithering rapidly downwards. At Gimli’s urging, Frodo followed him, squeezing his eyes tight shut as he slithered down into the darkness. Merry scrambled after him, reluctant to let his friends out of his sight again. Grunting with effort, Gimli clambered after them, letting out a bellow as his boots slipped from under him and he too went skating downwards.

Gandalf ducked his head to peer through the gap and grimaced, looking up at Boromir as the big man climbed up beside him. Aragorn was busy teaching the snow trolls the meaning of caution with a few carefully placed arrows.

“I occasionally suspect the Elves of having a twisted sense of humour,” Gandalf observed dourly as he swung one leg over the edge of the opening and tucked his robes beneath him. Then he disappeared downwards into the tunnel....

“Come on, Aragorn!” Boromir barked as he climbed after him. “Stop playing with the Trolls....”

Aragorn shot a rude reply at him as he made haste to climb the last few blocks and scramble over the edge into the opening. The ice took him by surprise and he went shooting downwards, clouting one elbow on the ice before he tucked his arms in and let the exhilaration of the ride race over him....

Using his boots to brace himself against the ice sides of the slide, Gimli slowed his descent as he saw a shimmer of torchlight from below and arrived at the exit to the tunnel at a sedate place. He let himself slither to the ground, chuckling as he realised that all four of the Hobbits had landed on top of a dishevelled Legolas.

“You might want to move,” he warned cheerfully as he plucked Merry off the top of the pile and dodged as Gandalf arrived next to land with remarkable agility on his feet beside the Dwarf.

“Quite exhilarating....” the wizard panted, grinning as he dusted himself off, helped by an eager Pippin.

A bellow from behind him announced Boromir’s arrival and he stepped aside, tugging Frodo and Sam out of the way.

“Look out below!”

Legolas groggily started to sit up, then let out a wild yelp and rolled aside as Boromir shot out of the chute and landed squarely and solidly on both feet. Spotting the elf, the warrior chuckled. “Missed you....”

Giving him an outraged glare, Legolas picked himself up.  “I fail to see what is so amusing....” he began and promptly got flattened by Aragorn exploding out of the chute and landing on top of him.

Panting, Aragorn pushed himself up on his hands to gaze down at the Elf lying flat on his back beneath him. “There was no need to catch me, Legolas,” he said mildly. 

Legolas spat a mouthful of hair out of his face and gave him a blue fire stare. “You are sitting on me and I am most definitely not a cushion,” he snarled.

“Aye, you’d have more tassels if you were a cushion,” Aragorn chuckled, flicking at one of the Elf’s plaits. Legolas snatched the slim strand out of his fingers and bucked him off with a lithe wriggle.

“Bah! Humans!” he growled as he stalked over to the chute and slapped both hands down on the rock, speaking in sharp Elvish. From somewhere above came a roar of sound and a blast of frigid air exploded out of the tunnel, making the Elf blink and step back. A skitter of pebbles and bits of ice trickled out of the darkness then all became still once more.

“Does that mean the Trolls can’t follow us now?” Frodo asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Legolas said simply, favouring his sore shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to land on you,” Sam offered apologetically.

Legolas however smiled and patted the Hobbit’s shoulder, reserving his glare for Aragorn. “That is all right, Sam, you are not heavy, unlike some humans....”

“I would have thought you’d have more sense than to stand underneath,” Aragorn responded sweetly.

“At least he gave the Hobbits something soft to land on,” Gimli put in cheerfully.

Legolas gave him a look of offended dignity and drew himself up to his full height.

“Now, now, let’s not bicker,” Gandalf said amiably before a haughty retort could be forthcoming. “We are back on the Pathways and safe.....”

“For now....” Boromir commented, glancing dubiously around him. “What if we get separated again?”

“That is possible,” Legolas said uncomfortably. “We are not where we should be....” He lifted round at them uncertainly. “There should not have been a glacier here....”

“Well,” Aragorn said reassuringly, meeting his friend’s worried blue eyes. “We’re well away from the Orcs who were chasing us. We’ve lost the snow trolls and the ice drake, so we seem to be doing all right so far.”

“Whatever is feeding on the black influence of Mordor, knows we are here,” Legolas responded however. “That is what twists the Pathways and leads us astray.”

“And it wants you,” Aragorn said, recalling the conversation he been having with Gimli and Boromir when they realised they had been separated from the others. “Whether it was trapped here by accident or by design, its hungry and it wants you. It needs your ability....”

Gandalf sighed heavily, making them all look at him uneasily. “Aragorn is right, I’m afraid. I believe it comes from the dark places, was set here by Sauron to learn how the Elves create and walk the Pathways. He will not be satisfied with this world, I fear. If he wins, he will use the Pathways to reach out for others....”

                                                            * * *

Walking in the thick darkness was not a problem for the Dwarf and he had to resist the urge to chuckle as he listened to Boromir swearing as he tripped and Aragorn’s bitten off curses for added variety as he too stumbled occasionally. The Hobbits were quiet, clustered around Gandalf and his faintly glowing staff like moths around a flame. Legolas led the way, his faint bioluminescence clearly visible to the Dwarf’s excellent night vision.  He could also see the dark purple shimmer in his signature aura over his wounded shoulder and knew the Elf was still hurting. It was partly that bruised light that made him stick to the prince’s side, partly knowledge that if they did run into anything nasty, it was better if he met it. After all, he could at least see it....

“Legolas?” he said quietly.

“Yes, Gimli?”

“What’s that smell?” Gimli sniffed, inhaling the wet muddy smell that was slowly growing stronger.

“We approach a nexus....A crossing point to another path....”

“A ford?”

“Yes....”

“A wet one?”

“Yes....marsh I think....”

“You in control of this one?”

Legolas’ smile sparkled even in the dim light. “Yes, Gimli....”

“Good....”

“At least of its position. I am not so sure of what we will meet as we cross....”

“Oh......”

                                                            * * *

Legolas had led them to a river. At least Frodo thought it was a river, although it looked more like a flat liquid ribbon that barely rippled as it twined through the cavern. Its surface shimmering with an ethereal silver light, it blocked their route to an archway on the other side that was shrouded by fog. When he touched his fingertips to it, it was firm but yielding and cool like some strange metal...

“We cross here....” Legolas said quietly. “The marshes lie through the archway. Beyond that lies the Gateway.”

“The way out at last?” Merry asked hopefully.

“A way out at least,” Legolas agreed but he gave Gandalf a worried look. “I do not think we should linger here any longer. We must leave the Pathways soon.”

Leaning on his staff, Gandalf nodded. “You are right. It is not safe to linger...”

“Whatever stalks the Pathways is hunting us now....” Aragorn said quietly, making them all look at him in surprise. The Ranger swallowed, made uncomfortable by their scrutiny and what he could sense in the darkness.

“Yes,” Legolas agreed. “It knows we seek to leave this place. It has Aragorn’s...scent. My scent....It stalks us....”

“Then we should go,” Boromir said firmly, starting forward only to stop and scowl as Aragorn blocked his way with one arm.

“We must find a ford....”

“We will cross here....” the Elf answered.

“Here? But....” Aragorn eyed the river doubtfully. It looked deep to him and he was worried about the Hobbits. “Sam can’t swim remember....”

“It is not deep for Hobbits.....” Legolas gave Sam a reassuring smile as he offered the Hobbit his hand. When Sam took it trustingly, he stepped out into the river. The shimmering surface barely gave under the Elf’s feet, flowing away in tiny wavelets then swirling back to dance in ripples of ever changing light around his boots. Awed, Sam took a nervous step after him, watching the patterns eddying around his feet as they walked out into the water.

“Wow...” Pippin breathed and with great daring skipped after them before Merry could grab him.

“Well, it seems safe enough,” Boromir said dryly, sliding a glance askance at Aragorn. “Want me to go next?”

Aragorn glared at him furiously and stomped out after Legolas.

One, two three.....water sloshed suddenly around his ankles and solid ground dropped away from under his feet, pitching him straight down in freezing cold water....

With a wild yell of shock, he flailed in panic as he sank, churning up the water around him...

His boots touched bottom and he found himself standing chest deep in cold water....

Legolas and the Hobbits peered down at him in interest. “Oh my, you appear to be a bit too heavy....” Legolas murmured with sarcastic sweetness. “I appear to have underestimated your weight.....How odd. After you landed on me I would have thought I would have been able to estimate it better....”

“You......” Aragorn began, fury blazing through him. He could feel the water sucking at him like a hundred miniature whirlpools, mud squelching up around his boots and threatening to run down inside to join what felt like the gallons of water already inside....

And he was also only too aware of Boromir roaring with laughter back on the bank. He shot a filthy look back at the warrior, annoyed to see that Gandalf too was smirking, Gimli chuckling and the Hobbits openly giggling at his predicament.

“See how the mighty have fallen!” Boromir gurgled in amusement, holding his aching ribs.

“When I get out of here....!” Aragorn spat at him and then swung back to the Elf in fury.

Legolas arched a slim eyebrow at him, a smile in his eyes. “Ah ah, Aragorn, not in front of the Hobbits....Allow me to help you....”  Legolas paused warily as he held out a hand to him, reading the look in the Ranger’s eyes. “No tricks?”

“No tricks.” Aragorn grimaced in agreement. He could tell that giving his promise was the only way to get Legolas to help him. He slapped his own wet hand into the Elf’s with a rueful grimace. “You couldn’t have picked Boromir?” he hissed in Elvish as he heaved himself out of the sucking depths of the sink hole.

Legolas gave him an innocent smile back. “Ah, but Boromir didn't land on me.... Tassels indeed!”

                                                            * * *

“Lovely, marshes....” Boromir observed sourly, peering around him at the mist shrouded marshlands that stretched away into the distance on the other side of the archway. He gave Legolas a curious look. “How can there be marshes when we’re underground?” he wondered.

“Mountains above, snow below. River above, marshes below....” Legolas answered blandly. “Only we are not actually underground...”

Boromir stared at him silently for a long moment and then turned to Aragorn. “May I hit him?”

“No,” Aragorn said flatly, rocking on his toes and feeling his boots squelch.

“Spoilsport,” Boromir sniffed.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at him. “Wait your turn,” he retorted. “Do lead on, your highness.”

Legolas gave him one of his best glares and then stepped out, gliding with effortless ease across the boggy surface while the others squelched after him. Noisome bubbles gurgled up from the marsh surface and it was difficult to tell whether the shapes that loomed up around them were undergrowth or a fellow companion.

Occasionally the Elf would pause, guiding them around a dangerous spot with some innate instinct for treacherous quagmires.

“He could be making it up,” Gimli muttered to Boromir as he heaved his boots out of a particularly smelly patch of mud. “All these little detours might not be necessary....”

“I note the might and could....” Boromir commented. “But by all means ask him.”

“Quite,” Legolas murmured, emerging silently from the mist and nearly making Gimli keel over in shock at his sudden appearance. “I am sure I can find a sink hole for you if that is what you really want....”

“You have a twisted sense of humour, Elf,” Gimli growled at him.

“What makes you think I'm joking?” Legolas responded with poisonous sweetness, then abruptly swung away to freeze and stare out into the mists.

“Stand still!” Gandalf barked a split second later. “Be silent!”

The Hobbits froze obediently, instinctively huddling together. Boromir curled one hand about his sword hilt and Gimli took a comforting grip on his axe. Ahead of them, Aragorn who had been following the reed covered path Legolas had set him on, looked around him warily, head up as he listened and watched....

Legolas took a sudden step and Gandalf moved fast as a whip, seizing his arm. “No, Legolas,” he whispered sharply. “Stay....”

“They call....” Legolas whispered back. “Do you not hear them? They call....”

“It is nothing of your knowing that calls,” Gandalf warned as he watched the Elf anxiously. He shook his greyed head, knowing that he was not getting through to the Prince.

Boromir scowled and looked anxiously at Aragorn, afraid that he too would succumb to whatever lay unseen out in the writhing coils of the mist. The Ranger however had drawn his sword and held it two handed before him as if it was a talisman to ward off the darkness. “Do you hear it?” the soldier asked warily.

Aragorn inclined his head a fraction. “Oh yes, I hear it,” he said softly. “But it isn't me it calls. It wants Legolas....” He focused on the Elf, frowning at his slender back. Gandalf was holding him in place, but Aragorn could see the lines of tension in his friend’s body, knew that at any moment he would break free and be gone....“Legolas! It lies to you. Do not listen....”

Legolas blinked and looked back at him, his eyes drowning deep with confusion and yearning. “They call...” he whispered.  “Oh, Elessar, they call me to the woods....to home...They need me and I must...go.....”

Gandalf cursed as Legolas started to struggle against his grip....

In three quick strides, Aragorn was there, slamming his sword away and grabbing the Elf by the shoulders to give him a hard shake. “We need you! I need you!” He pulled Legolas around, making him look at the Hobbits, at Gimli and Boromir and Gandalf’s worried expression, before he once more pulled him back to face him. Cupping the Elf’s fine featured face in his hands, he held him still and locked his sea blue eyes with own. “You must not leave us, Legolas. I need you.....I cannot do this alone....We cannot...”

Tides of bewilderment swept through Legolas’ eyes as he struggled against the pull of the darkness. “They call....”

“No, it calls. Remember the darkness. The hunger.... It wants you to open the Gateways for it, it wants you to lead it to Mirkwood....to feed on the Elves.....as it would feed on you....”

Dazed, Legolas shook his head, pain flickering across his face as if he fought against being torn in two. “I must go....”

“Legolas, please....” Aragorn begged even as he felt Legolas starting to withdraw from him, feeling the tension in his shoulders. He had little doubt that the Elf was stronger than he was, that he could do him some serious damage if he wanted to. But a quick flicker of a look at the others also told him that the rest of the fellowship was equally determined to stop Legolas leaving them. “Legolas.....”

Legolas twitched, meeting his eyes with a flash of wildness for a second then he looked down sharply, staring into Sam’s round face as the Hobbit took a hold of his hand. “You mustn’t leave us,” Sam said firmly. “I wouldn't be happy about that at all, no, sir.”

“Sam’s right,” Pippin chimed in, wriggling between Gandalf and Legolas to get in close on the other side. “You can’t go off and leave us. I mean Strider’s all very well with this Rangering stuff and Boromir knows about being a soldier and all, Gimli knows lots about mountains and things and Gandalf is, well, he’s plain old Gandalf but you’re the only elf we’ve got and Elrond wouldn't have sent you with us if he didn’t think we’d need you. So it’s obvious, you’ve got to stay with us because Elrond said so and he’s a King.”

“Aragorn’s a king too,” Merry pointed out.

“Yes, but he’s not an Elven king like Elrond is,” Pippin argued.

Aragorn felt Legolas sway in his grip and suddenly sag at the knees, crumpling earthwards. The Ranger let him go, dropping to his knees with him as Legolas sank forward and dug his hands into the soft dirt, rubbing his fingers between reeds and moss to release the scent of the earth.

Gandalf knelt somewhat stiffly to join them as Aragorn put his arm around Legolas’ slender shoulders, aware of the Hobbits clustering in close.

“You’ve got to stay, Legolas, it’s sort of required....” Pippin went on insistently.

Legolas lifted his head and looked at Aragorn, a flicker of his normal self struggling to return to his gaze.

“Don’t let it lie to you,” Aragorn whispered.

“You know what it wants and you must not let it use you,” Gandalf said grimly. “You must not give it the Pathways....”

Legolas nodded slowly, clenching his fingers into the earth. “I am Elf and I am alone....It knows....”

The words were in Elvish and Aragorn responded with words and touch, tightening his grip and drawing his friend into his embrace. “No,” he said into a pointed ear. “You are not alone. We are kindred....I am here, my brother. You are not alone....”  

“It hungers....” Legolas keened. “It must be fed.....”

“But not by you, son of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil...” Gandalf was firm, his voice full of ancient wisdom and authority, a voice Legolas had grown up respecting and obeying.

“I understand....” Legolas bowed his head and for a moment the weight of weariness showed in his eyes and the droop of his shoulders. Holding him close, Aragorn suddenly knew without words that his shoulder still pained the Elf, that whatever called its lies to him was also feeding on him, draining the energy out of him...

“Aragorn! Stay alert, man!” Gandalf’s voice was sharp and his eyes astute as they met the Ranger’s gaze. Jerking his head up, Aragorn focused, realising that he too was slipping under the thing’s sway.

“Um...” said Merry uncomfortably. “Gandalf?”

“Not now, Merry....”

“But...um....” Merry pressed on determinedly despite the look the Istari gave him. “....where are the others?”

                                                            * * *

With three quick strides, Boromir swooped and pounced, yanking Frodo back from the edge of the marsh and bundling him back to Gimli’s side. “Like herding bloody mice,” he grumbled impatiently as he gave the Hobbit a gentle shake. “Come on, lad, snap out of it...”

Frodo blinked and looked up at him, dazed. “What?”

“That thing’s got its hooks into you,” Boromir told him, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder to stop the Hobbit wandering off. “Gimli! Pull yourself together, man...er Dwarf.”

Gimli gave him a slow stare and a scowl. “It’s not affecting me....”

“Then watch where you’re going,” Boromir snapped. “You nearly fell in a bog....Frodo! Where do you think you’re going?!” The warrior made another snatch, hefting Frodo off his wandering feet and grabbing Gimli’s shoulder with his free hand. “Give me strength!”

“Frodo!” Aragorn’s voice echoed out of the mists “Boromir! Gimli!”

“Here!” Boromir bellowed back, discovering that carrying a reluctant Hobbit and towing a recalcitrant Dwarf was not the easiest thing in the world. He was for once relieved to see Aragorn as the Ranger burst out of the fog.

“What are you doing?” Aragorn demanded warily.

“What does it bloody look like?” Boromir retorted. “I know what you were thinking, but I wasn't after the blasted Ring. Here, you carry him!” He shoved Frodo impatiently into the Ranger’s arms and turned a glower on Gimli as the Dwarf attempted to wander off again.

“Frodo?” Aragorn queried gently as he set the Hobbit down on his feet and gripped his shoulders. “Where did you think you were going?”

“Home,” Frodo whispered and his large expressive eyes filled with tears. “Back to the Shires....” He burrowed against Aragorn’s chest as the man closed his arms gently around him.

Gimli made an odd sound, half snuffle, half snort. “The mines of Moria....” he muttered gruffly. “I heard Balin call and then....” He shook his head, looking up at Boromir. “Didn't you hear it?”

Boromir shook his head. “Me? No. Never had any imagination.  It’s what makes me a good soldier. I miss Gondor, miss my brother....I thought I heard....” He paused, looking uncomfortable with such admissions of vulnerability. “But my place is here. I cannot, will not give up....” He glared at Aragorn as the Ranger looked up at him. “Well? What are you looking at? You think you’re the only one dedicated to doing the right thing?”

“I sometimes wonder if we both have the same view of what the right thing is, is all,” Aragorn said softly.

Boromir stiffened, his eyes burning with resentment then he abruptly nodded. “Aye, well then....” he said gruffly. “But I can tell you one thing, I am as dedicated to keeping us all alive as you are. Where did you leave the Elf?”

“With Gandalf and the Hobbits to guard him,” Aragorn answered, straightening up. Frodo was calmer now, pulling himself together. “We must get back to them.”

“Can Legolas still lead us to the gateway?” Boromir questioned. “I feel the urge to get as far away from here as possible. This is no longer a friendly place....”

                                                            * * *

Boromir’s reaction was one that Legolas shared. He sat cross legged within a small half circle of Hobbits, watched over by Gandalf to prevent him wandering off. He had managed to centre himself again, but still he could feel the insistent tug of the Darkness calling to him. He yearned for Aragorn’s return, failing Elven contact he needed his human touch...

“It will be all right,” Gandalf said softly and his hand brushed the Elf’s golden hair in a light caress.

“I've got an apple left if you want it,” Pippin offered. “I was saving it for a snack later....”

Legolas smiled at him. The Hobbits made things more bearable somehow for he could feel the warm flow of affection from them as they gathered around him.  “Thank you, Pippin. But I am not hungry.”

“Oh....” Pippin eyed the apple then with a shrug bit into it himself.

Merry was staring off into the mists, his shoulders slightly hunched as if some unseen weight pressed down on him. “Did anyone else hear that?” he asked uneasily.

“Hear what?” Sam asked, coming to his side and joining him in peering out into the mists.

“I'm not sure...something....slithering....”

Gandalf frowned and Legolas unfolded long legs to stand up. “Do you hear anything?” the wizard asked him softly.

“Only water and air and.....a frog....” Legolas answered and pointed. “That way. A small green frog.....”

“How do you know that?” Pippin asked, gazing up at him in wide eyed awe.

Legolas flashed him a sudden grin. “Marsh frogs are always green, Pippin.”

Gandalf snorted, hiding his amusement.

“It sounds like something crying....” Merry said uncertainly.

“Frodo?” Sam fretted. He had wanted to go after his friend himself but Aragorn had refused to let him go with him.

Merry shook his head. “No, no...it isn’t a Hobbit...or man.....” He edged forward, peering nervously about him. Sam followed at his heels, gripping his short sword tight.

Gandalf shot an enquiring look at the Elf. Legolas was straining to listen, to hear what the Hobbits could hear. “I hear nothing, Gandalf,” he said slowly. “I do not understand....”

Gandalf lightly touched his arm. “It is not your failing, Legolas. I think this is more fell magic....”

“I saw something move....” Sam grabbed at Merry in alarm. “There? See it? Frodo? Is that you?”

“No, Sam!” Gandalf said sharply as the Hobbit took a step forward.

“There’s nothing there....” Legolas protested, scanning the writhing mists with eyes far sharper than any Hobbit’s.

“I see it....” Merry gasped and his voice filled with fright. “Listen! They’re coming!”

“What’s coming? There’s nothing there!” Legolas yelped in rising exasperation.

“Oh, Sam! Do you hear them? Hear the keening...?” Merry shook Sam wildly, fright spiralling towards panic.

“There! Look.....a face....” Sam pointed frantically into the thick mists.

For one spit second Legolas, peering desperately in the direction the Hobbit pointed, saw a twisted parody of a goblin face leering at them from the mists, mouth gaping wide on crimson fangs, bloody pits for eyes then it was gone and the ear hurting keening began. A shrill maddened gibbering like the sound of a thousand madmen laughing....

Legolas clapped his hands over his sensitive ears, feeling that sound tear at his mind and senses...

“Mewlips!” Merry screamed and fled, terror overwhelming his common sense and biting into his instincts to make him run like a rabbit. Sam tore after him, yowling in mindless terror....

“No....” Gandalf grabbed Pippin as the young Hobbit attempted to bolt after his friends, hanging on to him with one hand as he struggled to bring his staff to bear with the other. Legolas abruptly snapped back to attention and grabbed the Hobbit’s free arm, then knelt and yanked him into a tight embrace against him.

“Hush, Peregrine, hush....” he whispered, holding him tight. “I will keep you safe....”

With a moan of fear, Pippin burrowed against him. “Mewlips gonna eat me.....” he wailed.

“No, they shall not pass me!” Legolas responded. “Did I not save you from an ice drake, little one? Trust me.” Pippin moaned and clung, but his sobbing and shivering subsided a little at the realisation that the Elf would indeed protect him.

Gandalf’s staff suddenly blazed to life, driving back the mists that threatened to engulf them. He lifted it high, looking anxiously for the missing Hobbits but they seemed to have disappeared, vanishing into the marshes....

“Mewlips,” the wizard snarled angrily. “A cruel trick to play....”

“What are Mewlips?” Legolas demanded.

“A Hobbit tale, cannibalistic spirits to be found in marshes....”

“Real.....” Pippin whimpered.

Gandalf looked down at him and patted the curly head burrowed into Legolas’ chest. “No, Pippin...” he said kindly.

“Real!” Pippin looked at him again, his eyes filled with panic stricken tears. “They took Merry and Sam.....and the maybe the others too....”

Legolas tightened his grip around the Hobbit’s thin shoulders. “Maybe real enough here....” he said quietly. “Real enough for magic....” He looked up at Gandalf. “I also heard them, saw one......But I do not fear them....”

Pippin looked at him in astonishment. “But they’re canna, canna....

“Cannibalistic...” Gandalf said obligingly, even as he frowned at the Elf.

“And they eat people too!” Pippin wailed.

“Not Elves,” Legolas said firmly. “Or wizards. And certainly not any Hobbits in their company.....”

Pippin’s mouth rounded in a silent oh as he considered that, then he looked round frantically. “But what about the others?!”

“We shall find them,” Gandalf told him, a faint shadow of a frown crossing his face. “Although, Hobbits do run fast....”

“Comes of being small,” Boromir observed as he strode briskly out of the fog. “Nippy little things....” He broke off, realising that all three of them were staring at him.  “What?” he asked suspiciously. “What was all the yelling about? Where are the others?”

“We were about to ask you that,” Gandalf challenged.

“Don't you start.....” Boromir growled.

“We’re here,” Aragorn answered for himself as he emerged from the mists with Frodo and a scowling Gimli. “We became lost in the fog. Where are Sam and Merry?”

“Mewlips got them,” Pippin moaned.

“Mewlips?!” Frodo echoed in horror and shot a wild look around him. Boromir and Aragorn both instinctively grabbed him before he could run.

“Your turn,” Boromir said however, releasing him to the Ranger with a wry grimace.

“But there’s no such thing as Mewlips,” Frodo said, recovering himself and wriggling out of Aragorn’s grip to go to Pippin’s side.

 “Maybe they’re not real ones but magic ones, but I heard them....” Pippin told him.

“Would someone tell me what Mewlips are?” Boromir demanded. Noting that Aragorn had an equally questioning look on his face, Gandalf explained.

“So, in effect, Sam and Merry heard something that scared them and they ran off?” Aragorn translated.

“Normally, I'm the tactless one....” Boromir murmured as Aragorn glowered at him. “But you’re so much better at it than I am. Do go on....”

Pippin glared at them. “We have to find them,” he said insistently. “If you won’t help me look for them, I’ll....I’ll....I’ll go on my own!”

The others stared at him, startled by the young Hobbit’s sudden vehemence.

“I will go with you Pippin. You are correct. We must find them,” Legolas agreed, however, rising smoothly to his feet. “This way....”

“Are you certain?” Gimli asked.

“You doubt my ability to track?” Legolas shot back.

“Er, no...” the Dwarf admitted. “But in this fog....”

“They went his way. I am sure. Now come....” Legolas glanced down at Pippin as the Hobbit slid a hand into his, nodded once in reassurance and set off. Gandalf stalked after them, holding his staff up. Where its light fell, so the mist and shadows recoiled as if reluctant to be seared by its brilliance. Frodo stuck close to his side. Exchanging a look, Boromir and Aragorn drew their swords and followed them.

                                                            * * *

Even with both Aragorn and Legolas tracking, finding Sam and Merry seemed a hopeless task. Each track they found petered out into bog or quagmire, sometimes looping back until they found themselves travelling in circles. Now and then the mad gibbering would echo through the thickening mists and Frodo and Pippin had to be grabbed and held firmly to stop them running off. Even Boromir had heard the weird voices and was getting jumpy.

Occasionally strange lights bobbed through the fog, sometimes flickering like campfires, sometimes blazing like lanterns tempting them to stray into the murky depths of the marshes. Aragorn warned everyone against following them, knowing the perils that awaited the unwary traveller in marshland.

Finally Gandalf called a weary halt and the remains of the fellowship settled onto what bits of dry ground they could find to rest.

“I fear for the Hobbits,” Aragorn fretted quietly as he drew the wizard aside. “These spirits spew madness into the very air. Frodo and Pippin are terrified, how much more scared will Sam and Merry be alone out there?”

“Hobbits are resourceful creatures, my friend. You would be surprised by how resilient they are. Do you think you could have carried the Ring as far as Frodo has?”

Aragorn grimaced. “No,” he admitted grimly. “Sometimes....I hear it....call...”

“But like Boromir, you resist.”

The Ranger rubbed a weary hand over his face. “Sometimes....” he said slowly. “I think that Frodo would be better to travel without Boromir and I. Neither Legolas or Gimli have any interest in anything other than destroying the Ring. The other Hobbits in their innocence do not feel its pull....”

Gandalf smiled tiredly. “We all have our part to play and lessons to learn. Elrond knew that. Do you think he would have let you go if he thought it unwise?”

Boromir’s sudden sharp movement in coming to his feet made them all look at him; the Hobbits in trepidation, the others in mingled curiosity and surprise. “There!” the soldier snapped, pointing in the fog. “I thought I saw something....”

“Marsh gas. You’re hallucinating,” Aragorn said soothingly, but Legolas unwound himself and peered intently into the mists.

“There is something.....” he said slowly and then moved. “Wait here...”

“Legolas! No!” Aragorn yipped a protest but to no avail. The Elf was already gone, vanishing into the mists Without Legolas’ presence the mists suddenly seemed much thicker and colder, pressing menacingly in on them. Pippin edged closer to Boromir, grateful for the arm the big man put around him. Frodo eased over to stand between Aragorn and Gandalf.  Gimli stood alone, fingering his axe and staring at the spot where the Elf had disappeared.

Something yowled suddenly and they clearly heard the hiss of an arrow. Then the high thin cry of a frightened Hobbit....

“Sam!” Frodo yelped and was off and running before Aragorn could grab him.

“Blast it! Everyone stay put....!” The Ranger barked and tore after him but Pippin was fast as an eel and racing after Frodo before Boromir could stop him. The warrior looked at Gandalf in exasperation.

“Well? Come on, man! We don't want to miss the fight....” Gimli growled and charged. Boromir bounded after him, leaving Gandalf to swear in a most unwizardlike fashion and follow them.

He emerged from the fog to find a nightmarish scene before him. Sam and Merry were huddled against a rocky outcrop, clinging together in the face of a demonic monstrosity of shadow and writhing darkness. It seemed to have no true shape but was a mass of writhing black tentacles that seemed sometimes to be smoke, sometimes slick as oil. Black flames hissed and burnt where they stuck and a thousand crimson eyes burned within the vortex that was the Darkness.

Gandalf caught his breath, instinctively gripping his staff tighter as he stared up at the creature. He had heard that Sauron once had cast a spell on his own shadow, tearing off a shard of it and giving it an unnatural evil life of its own, a black reflection of himself bound to his bidding.  Gandalf had not imagined that he would set such a guard as hunter on the Elven Pathways.

Legolas was standing before the Darkness, firing arrow after arrow into its depths. Boromir and Aragorn came up on either side of him, Gimli angling to grab and hold back Frodo and Pippin from running to their friends.

“It’s a trap!” the Dwarf bellowed. “Don’t you see? It frightened the Hobbits with the Mewlips to lure us to it....”

Gandalf knew Gimli was right, but it didn't help. They had found the Darkness and the Darkness had found them. Eyes narrowing, the wizard thought fast even as he moved to edge towards Sam and Merry. The Darkness wasn't interested in the Hobbits, it wanted Legolas’ ability to control the Pathways. Oh, the Darkness could twist them, could use the weight of its evil to do that and to draw the fellowship within its reach, but it could not truly control them. Frodo though....

Frodo was swaying on his feet and Pippin grabbed at him, shaking his friend hard. “Fight it, Frodo!” he begged and flashed a worried look up at Gandalf as the Istari reached them. “Do something, Gandalf!”

“Aye, wizard, do something....” Gimli agreed grimly.

Gandalf shook his head, still searching for a spell that would help.

Boromir and Aragon were slashing at the Darkness, but it was like fighting thin air as the smoke like tendrils peeled away from their blades. All they were doing was exhausting themselves. Legolas’ arrows were harmless and he had switched to his mithrail edged white knives, their blades leaving patterns of light glowing through the air....

The Darkness lashed out, a tentacle making a fist like punch that hammered Aragorn aside and sent him tumbling and bruised practically to the wizard’s feet. Gandalf automatically moved to help him up and the Ranger leaned on him, breathing hard. “It’s too fast....” he gasped.

“We must retreat,” Gimli agreed. “But we cannot reach Sam and Merry....”

“I won't leave them...” Frodo whispered. By now he was white faced and leaning heavily on Pippin, feeling the weight of the Ring increasing ten fold in the presence of the Darkness.

“Light....” Aragorn urged. “Gandalf, give us light....”

“No, that is not the way....”

“Light dispels shadows....” the Ranger argued.

Gandalf shook his head. “Light makes the shadows stronger....”

“There must be something! If we can lure it away from the Hobbits at least.....Boromir! Look out!” Aragorn screamed the warning and abandoned the wizard, racing back to help. Gimli hurtled after them; a Dwarf at speed a force to be reckoned with.

The Darkness had continued to slap and slice at Elf and man, who dodged and twisted, frantically striking back whenever they could. Now it feinted sharply at Legolas, slicing at his legs so that the Elf was forced to leap over it, taking him away from his stance at Boromir’s side. The tentacles slapped back, striking viciously at the warrior and smashing him from his feet into a tangle of boulders. Legolas darted back to help as Boromir went limp and the Darkness swung back, a burst of tendrils exploding in the Elf’s face, engulfing him in a thick black net that crushed him tight and snatched him off his feet.

Skidding to a halt beside the fallen Boromir, Aragorn looked up in horror at the struggling Elf held high above them. Needle fine tendrils probed at the Elf’s face and eyes and ears and Legolas’ aurora sharply blazed startlingly bright in response, white as a star.....

“No....” Aragorn moaned, knowing that too brilliant light was torn from the Elf’s very soul....

Legolas convulsed, screaming...

Boromir groaned and rolled over, shoving up on his arms. “What....?” He blinked at Aragorn and the shadowy shape of Gimli behind him then looked up, paling as he saw Legolas’ pulsating aura casting its eerie glow over them. Then his eyes narrowed....”Right then....” he snarled and lunged to his feet, launching himself at the Darkness once more. “Drop him, you bastard!” he screamed and swung, driving his sword into the black body of the Darkness with all the strength he possessed.

And the Darkness screamed in agony.....

Aragorn stared, his protest unvoiced as he realised what Boromir had seen. To hold Legolas the Darkness had become solid.

“Iron!” Gandalf roared abruptly. “Cold iron, Aragorn!”

Aragon bolted after Boromir, dodging the flailing tentacles that now had razor sharp edges that scoured the rock and ground with deep gouges and could flay the skin from a man’s bones. But the Darkness’ reflexes had slowed; the brutal blows could now be dodged as it could not dodge the vicious attacks of the Fellowship. Gimli waded in, swearing in Dwarvish under his breath as he hacked his way through the writhing tentacles. Gandalf drew Glamdring and followed, carving great chunks from the Darkness as it finally attempted to retreat.

Frodo and Pippin started instinctively towards their friends, but Sam and Merry, exchanging twin looks of outrage, pulled themselves together and ran to join the fight, drawing their short stabbing swords.

The Darkness screamed and failed, scrambling away from them all, but still clutching a now limp Legolas, his glowing aurora gone.....

Aragorn clung to the hope that the Elf was merely unconscious, not soul stripped and lifeless, but there seemed to be nothing he could do, no way to defeat the Darkness or make it let go....

And then Frodo drove Sting into the Darkness, stabbing it in as deep as he could go with all his wiry strength, all the way through to the ground beneath....

The Darkness screamed and convulsed, contorting around the blade that held it for a moment pinned to the earth...

Gandalf swung, slapping his staff into the grounded tentacles and speaking a single dark word. Fire blazed up, devouring black flesh as it spread in a flash....

Shrieking as it burned, the Darkness screwed itself into a twisting, collapsing spiral as it fought to escape the terrible pain. Burning tentacles lashed the air, split the rock and flailed in madness at its attacked. Aragorn dodged a blade spear before it could skewer and him and riposted, nearly falling over his own feet as the Darkness imploded in on itself. For a moment there was a searing vortex of flame shot Darkness from which the Elf tumbled as the ensorcelled shadow vanished into nothingness....

“Legolas!” Aragon howled and dived, lunging to get underneath the Elf as he fell.

Gandalf yelped a spell, his voice holding a definite hint of panic....

And Legolas slammed into Aragon, smacking him to the ground in a bruised and breathless heap....

Clutching him to him, the Ranger lay flat on his back and wheezed, dimly aware of the others gathering around in a tight cluster.

“Good way to break every bone in your body,” Boromir observed sourly as he bent to feel for the Elf’s pulse. “You hurt, Ranger?”

Aragorn blinked and heaved in a breath. “Oh, I hurt....but nothing broken....” he managed to wheeze. “The....thing....?”

“Appears to have gone,” Boromir answered with a wary look round.

Aragorn managed to nod and focus on the Istari as he leaned over them. “Gandalf? Did you...?”

“If you had awaited a moment, I could have caught the elf with a spell. But you got in the way....” The wizard cast a questioning glance at Boromir and at his nod, pressed the flat of his hand to Legolas’ forehead.

“Is he all right?” Boromir asked.

“Aye, all intact....”Gandalf murmured.

“You couldn't have made him a bit lighter?” Aragorn said feebly.

“You didn't give me time.” Gandalf sniffed, then spoke gently, “Legolas? Come along now, lad. Time to come out of hiding....”

After a terrifyingly long moment, Legolas’ long eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened to gaze vacantly into Aragorn’s own. Aragorn felt the terror rise up within him, remembered his fear that the demonic entity had stripped away his friend’s spirit....

Legolas’ gaze turned thoughtful. “We seem to have done this before,” he said slowly. “But I think I prefer being on top.....”

Aragorn growled and rolled, spilling the Elf onto the ground and then groaning as his back twinged at the sudden effort.

“Ow....” Legolas said softly and pressed one hand to his forehead, paling.

Gandalf crouched, studying him critically as Boromir helped Aragorn to his feet. “What do you remember?” he prompted quietly.

“Remember?” Legolas gazed at him blankly for long enough to frighten Aragorn all over again. “Oh! It wanted to take my mind and feed on my spirit but I wouldn't let it....It was angry....but not very.....intelligent....”

“What do you expect of a shadow?” Gandalf snorted. Legolas blinked at him in bewilderment and the wizard patted him gently. “It’s all right, Legolas. I know it’s confusing, but you’ll be fine.” He looked up at the worried face of the others. “He’s not Shadowlost,” he said quietly. “Merely shaken up....Mirkwood Elves are very good at protecting themselves from such attacks....”

“We have to be,” Legolas responded with a touch of haughtiness that was ruined by having Pippin suddenly dive at the Elf and hug him fiercely.

“I knew you’d be all right,” he said smugly.

“Oh, you liar! You were as scared as the rest of us!” Merry protested.

Frodo smiled ruefully, exchanging a quick glance with Sam. Somehow having Sam with him again, helped to lift the terrible weight of the Ring. Sam grinned back at him, as staunch and loyal as ever.

“So, what now?” Gimli asked, leaning on his axe as a ruffled Legolas clawed his way out of Pippin’s embrace.  

“We leave the Pathways,” Aragorn decided as he leaned on Boromir and attempted to straighten up. “I don’t know what happened to the Darkness....”

“We drove it off,” Gandalf said quietly. “And seriously weakened it. I do not think it will return....”

“I feel that it has left the Pathways,” Legolas agreed, rubbing his forehead gingerly. “But now they twist, striving to right themselves. This is not a time for us to be here....”

“But how do we get out?” Boromir fretted, looking around them. The mists had gone, leaving behind bare rock and muddy marshland.

Legolas pushed carefully to his feet, leaning on Sam’s shoulder for a moment as he righted himself. “I sense that there is a portal not far from here. This is what the Darkness wished us not to reach. The way out.....”

                                                            * * *

They met nothing unexpected on the short journey to the portal, squelching their way through muddy marsh to reach sound rock and a steep climb up to an archway concealed among the stones. Legolas let them back into the strange tunnels beyond and there to a door made of a solid dark wood inset with sigils. It opened to his command and they cautiously stepped through, climbing a narrow twisting stairway upwards and through another doorway to find themselves in open air and sweet fresh smelling woodlands where sunshine sparkled on recent raindrops, turning the forest into a shimmering prism of light.

“Is this Lothlorien?” Gimli asked warily, jumping nervously as the portal which appeared to be inside a tree suddenly slammed shut behind him. Curious, Frodo stepped over to it and run a hand down the trunk, finding the bark as seamless as if there had never been an opening at all.

“No,” Legolas admitted uncomfortably. “I am not sure....”

“I am,” Boromir snorted. He had climbed to a promontory of rock to peer down slope and check for trouble. “That village look familiar to you, Aragorn?”

The Ranger climbed up beside him and a slow, rueful smile spread over his face as he peered at the small village clustered around the river ford below. “Aye, that’s the village where we got the boats from. There’s the bridge where we crossed the river....”

“Oh....” Legolas murmured, colouring faintly in chagrin.

“It’s not your fault,” Gandalf said firmly however. “We could have come out anywhere with the way the Pathways were twisting. You did well to keep us so close to the true path.”

“Aye, at least we’ve out flanked the Orcs. They’ll never think we’re behind them,” Boromir added. “And Sam will be glad to get Bill back.”

Aragorn smiled. “I take it you’re thinking to avoid the river this time?”

Boromir grinned at him and bowed mockingly. “Whatever you say, oh powerful Ranger...”

Aragorn sniffed, but had to grin at him. He was simply glad to be out of the torturous twisting of the Pathways with the fellowship still intact. He glanced back at the others, noting that Legolas had settled under a tree and looked fully prepared to either take a cat nap or slide into a trance. Probably he needed both.

The Hobbits were doing what Hobbits always did, making a fire and settling down to make camp and a meal. Gimli had started looking for firewood and Gandalf had seated himself on a rock and fished out his pipe.

Aragorn sighed. He could do with a quiet pipe himself. “We should move on, take advantage of losing the Orcs and get a start on them,” he said quietly however.

“Aye, or we could take a rest and have a decent meal, as Gandalf seems to have in mind,” Boromir countered quietly.

“True. We don’t want to go rushing back into the village now. It’s getting late....” Aragorn glanced at the sky to check that night was drifting towards them.

“I suspect Sam had bacon left....” Boromir said casually.

The Ranger glanced at him and grinned in amusement. It was such an ordinary thing to think of; bacon sandwiches after fighting a demonic entity for their very lives. He did not want to think what would have happened if Legolas had been killed and they had all been trapped within the Pathways. “You’ve talked me into it.”

“Excellent choice!” Boromir said cheerfully and strode back to join the Hobbits. “Merry! Want to help me find some mushrooms?”

Aragorn smiled and stretched, easing a kink out of his back as he ambled over to sit down next to Legolas. The Elf gave him a sleepy look.

“I’d offer to give you a back rub but Pippin might get ideas about us bonding....”

Aragorn laughed. “Let no one tell me Elves don’t have a sense of humour,” he chuckled.

Legolas inclined his head, as graceful as ever. “One must keep a sense of perspective...”

“Fight a demon and then have supper?”

“Very practical,” Legolas agreed. “Sam tells me that I am to stay awake as he will make bacon and chip butties....What is a buttie?”

“A sandwich.....” Aragorn answered and chuckled again as his stomach growled in response to the idea. He leaned back against the tree, crossing his long legs at the ankles as he copied Legolas’ relaxed pose. “I’ll wake you....” The Elf nodded to him, folded his arms across his chest and to all intents and purposes fell asleep.

Feeling happier than he had since they had left Rivendell, Aragorn settled himself to watch the cheerful normality of the Hobbits settling in and smiled, allowing himself to relax. They had faced the challenge of the Pathways together and he was sure that together they would continue to fight and win.

Long live the Fellowship!

oooOooo