“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 aw