Author’s Notes: This story was written for the "Rituals and Festivities" Teitho contest. It won the third place. The story also belongs to my Mirkwood-Tales series, but can be read alone. Reviews are very welcome! :)

I want to give a very special thank you to Imbecamiel, my wonderful editor! *huggles*

Disclaimer: I am Tolkien… in my dreams. In my waking state I still don’t own the characters in this story. ;-)



Some Elvish translations
(all other needed translations will be found in the text)
mellon-nîn: my friend
ion-nîn: my son
adar: father




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~ Hunter’s Moon ~

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“Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.”
Helen Keller

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“Legolas! Legolas, can you hear me? Legolas?”

Aragorn’s voice was sounding more and more desperate with each frantic call. He listened closely, but the only thing he heard were the soft sounds of small pebbles hitting rock, rolling and falling to the ground deep below. He knew the elf had to be down there somewhere, but he could see only darkness and whirling dust.

Dread filled him at the mere thought that Legolas would never again be able to hear him, that the elf could be lost to him forever because of a single moment of bad luck and his instinctive decision to save the human instead of his own life. Aragorn refused to believe it. The thought did not bear contemplation. Legolas had to be alive, he must be.

The dust cloud settled much too slowly for his taste, and he was still not able to see anything. He knew he could not risk climbing down there without having at least an idea of what he was getting into. But what his mind knew and what his heart desired were two entirely different things. He pressed his lips together and stared down into the hole, willing the darkness and the dust to part and show him either his worst fear or his greatest hope.

Then he heard something. A soft sound, like a… groan. He listened intently, not even daring to breathe, but the sound did not repeat itself. There was only silence.

“Legolas?” he called again. “Do you hear me? Please, answer me, mellon-nîn!”

Seconds passed by, but to Aragorn they seemed to last a whole lifetime.

“E-Estel?” a weak voice finally answered.

The voice seemed to come from far away, and it echoed slightly, but Aragorn did not care. His heart sang with joy. Legolas was alive! The joy soon faded to deep relief and was quickly joined by concern. The elf’s voice sounded weak and pained, and Aragorn became aware that he did not yet know anything of the extent of his friend’s injuries. And injured he was, that much Aragorn could tell.

“Im si, Legolas,” ((I am here)) he replied. “How are you? Are you hurt? Where are you?”

He did not try to hide the worry in his voice, knowing that Legolas would hear it anyway. The silence lasted so long that he began to fear that the elf had fallen unconscious. But just when he was about to call out again, Legolas spoke.

“I do not know… where I am. It is dark. Perhaps… a cave?”

His voice was a bit stronger and less confused, but Aragorn did not like the obvious effort it cost his friend to speak at all, nor that he had evaded answering the most important part of his questions.

“Legolas, are you injured?” he asked again, more insistently this time.

He heard a soft rustling below him, followed by a scraping sound and, almost immediately, a pained gasp.

“Legolas?” he called in growing concern. “Legolas, answer me!”

“Just give me… a moment,” Legolas ground out, and Aragorn could tell that he spoke through clenched teeth.

Aragorn waited impatiently, listening into complete silence once more. Finally, Legolas spoke up again.

“Considering the circumstances… I am quite well,” he said. “There is no need to worry about me, Aragorn.”

The ranger closed his eyes and suppressed the urge to grab a stone, or anything nearby, and throw it down there. The elf kept his voice clear from pain now, and he sounded better than before, but it was obvious that he was not well.

“Legolas!” he said, a quiet warning in his voice. “Tell me the truth! I need to know how severe your injuries are when I want to get you out of there!”

“It is nothing serious, Estel…” Legolas began hesitantly.

“Legolas!” Aragorn growled.

He heard something from below him that could have been a sigh, but he was not sure.

“My leg is broken,” Legolas confessed grudgingly. “One or two of my ribs may be bruised and I have a bump on my head. Apart from that, I have only some scratches.”

Aragorn felt a sudden need to massage his temples and groaned inwardly. No serious injuries, of course. A broken leg was one of the worst things that could have happened to them – it meant that Legolas would not be able to move, much less climb on his own. The ranger shook his head and decided to be happy that the elf had at least not broken his neck instead. He thought about the elf’s words for a moment and felt a new suspicion rise within him.

“Are you sure that your definition of “scratches” and mine would be the same?” he asked pointedly. This time the sigh was not part of his imagination.

“I am not bleeding to death, Aragorn,” Legolas replied indignantly. “I just bumped against some rocks on the way down and took some scratches.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at that, a completely useless gesture since Legolas could not see him. He decided to let it go for the moment. He was still much too relieved to hear Legolas’ voice at all to get worked up about the elf’s stubbornness.

“How do you feel?” he asked instead, taking his friend by surprise.

“It hurts,” Legolas conceded after a moment, and the ranger could hear the weariness in his friend’s voice.

It was the first of Legolas’ statements he could believe without any problems. He remembered the pain in the elf’s voice before and guessed that Legolas had already tried to move his leg, either intentionally or by accident. It made him angry to be this helpless to do anything against his friend’s pain. He did not even know how far down Legolas was, and they didn’t have any rope with them.

He still could not believe how quickly a pleasant day had changed into a nightmare. Legolas had invited him to a special festival the wood elves celebrated at this time of the year, and Aragorn had been only too happy to accept the invitation. Legolas and he had not seen each other in much too long a time.

He had arrived late yesterday night, and this morning the two friends had been walking around aimlessly in the safe part of the woods, both to escape the hectic activities around them due to the festival this evening, and to catch up on each other’s lives. In one moment they had been in a beautiful clearing, laughing and bantering and enjoying the autumn sun, when suddenly the ground had given way under his feet. Then, everything seemed to happen all at once. He could still feel Legolas’ hands on him, dragging him back and pushing him away.

Unable to keep his balance, he had fallen to the ground with so much force that the breath was knocked out of his lungs. Looking back, the last thing he had seen of his friend were his widened eyes, then the elf had vanished in a dust cloud, both their voices drowned out by a loud rumbling of rocks. The only thing that remained behind was a yawning black hole in the ground and a dazed ranger.

Aragorn did not really want to remember the fear of those first dark moments, when he had called his friend’s name and the answer was only silence... He suppressed the memories forcefully and tried to think about his next steps. He was kneeling at the edge of the gaping hole, squinting into the darkness.

He needed to find a way down there, an easy way that would enable him to climb while carrying, or at least supporting, the injured elf. If only he were able to see more. He could only imagine how Legolas must be feeling, sitting with a broken leg in the darkness of an underground cave, alone and unable to move. He did not want to leave him there a moment longer than necessary. Especially since Legolas was only in this situation because he had protected him.

“I will get you out of there as soon as possible,” he promised Legolas gently. “Can you see anything of your surroundings? I still do not know where you are or how to get down there.”

“I cannot see much,” the elf answered, and again Aragorn noticed the slight echoes his friend’s voice caused. “There is a steep rock wall behind me, and I think I can see a part of the sky directly above. There is still too much dust in the air to see clearly.”

The elf shifted slightly, trying to escape the sharp edge of a rock that pressed into his back. The small movement sent a bolt of pain through his leg, and he had to catch his breath. After a moment the pain subsided, and he took a deep breath. He slumped a bit against the wall, ignoring the sharp edge behind him.

His left elbow throbbed mercilessly, and he could only guess that he had hit it on a jutting rock on his way down. He cradled the arm against his chest, ignoring the sticky warm substance he could feel under his fingertips. It was only a lacerated wound and he knew it would stop bleeding soon. It was one of the little details he had not mentioned to Aragorn and did not plan to. He did not feel the pain in his ribs when he did not move much, and his head only hurt a little bit. He knew he had been more than lucky.

Knowing the ranger, Aragorn was already worrying far too much - and undoubtedly believing that all of this had been his fault. Legolas still did not know why he had not managed to jump back as he had planned to do. Instead he had found himself falling through pitch-black darkness, hitting obstacles he could not see and finally meeting the ground with crushing force without being able to prepare for it. It was not an experience the elf ever wished to repeat.

He had been knocked out for a while, and the first thing he had heard when he came around again was Aragorn’s anxious voice calling his name. The voice had been his only anchor in the pain and the darkness he had awoken to, telling him that he was not alone and that his friend was safe.

Legolas drew his cloak tighter around him. It was cold down here, and the looming rock and the darkness seemed to press in on him, threatening to choke him. He felt trapped. He did not like caves, but in the situation he was currently in he liked them even less.

“Do you see me?” Aragorn asked, distracting the elf both from his hurting body and his dreary surroundings.

Legolas blinked and searched the grey opening above him for any sign of his friend. Most of the swirled-up dust had settled down by now and he thought he could see a dark shape at the edge of the hole.

“I am not sure,” he answered hesitantly.

Understanding the problem, Aragorn raised one arm and waved. “And now?”

Legolas smiled in the darkness and felt new hope rise within him. “If you are just waving your arm I can see you,” he said. “If it is a branch I’m looking at, there must be a lot of wind up there.”

Aragorn grinned, though he knew Legolas would not be able to see it. It was shortly after noon, and the sun was still high up in the sky. With the dust settling, he should soon be able to see his friend and find a way down there. He felt his spirits rise. “Where would I have to climb to reach you?” he asked.

“Just down. You are directly above me,” Legolas answered.

“Can you see more of your surroundings now? Perhaps a good way for me to climb down?”

Legolas moved as far as he could without jostling his leg again and looked up the rock wall behind him. He did not like what he saw.

“This does not look good,” he told Aragorn reluctantly. “As far as I can see, the wall is steep and very smooth.”

There was a short silence. “We will find a way,” the ranger replied finally, stubborn determination in his voice.

It made the elf smile once more.

“What else do you see?” Aragorn wanted to know.

“A cave,” Legolas answered slowly. “I can only see a part of it, but it seems to be very large.” Even his elven eyes could barely penetrate the darkness in front of him. He became aware of moisture seeping through his cloak and leggings, and a slight dripping sound somewhere in the distance.

“It is damp down here, Aragorn,” he said, “and there is moisture on the walls and the ground. I think the heavy rainfalls of the last years have found a way into this cave. That would explain why the ground gave in and why the rocks are so smooth. There could even be a lake or pond down here.” Legolas felt suddenly very grateful that he had not fallen into an icy cold, bottomless lake instead of on hard, solid ground. He shuddered. If he had to stay here much longer his imagination would run wild.

Sitting high above him in bright sunshine, Aragorn frowned. He did not like the new information he had been given any more than Legolas did. It would be even more difficult to climb down a wet, steep wall than a steep wall. And how would they get up again? A subtle change in his surroundings tore him out of his dark musings.

At first he did not know what had startled him, but then he saw it. A single ray of sunlight fell into the darkness beneath him, piercing the shadows and illuminating a part of the rock wall. While they were talking, the sun had slowly changed its position and soon it would shine directly down into the cave. The ranger’s worried features lit up in a bright smile. Now they had a chance.

To be continued...

Disclaimer see Chapter One. Reviews are very welcome. ;-)

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Chapter Two: Sounds in the Dark

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“Legolas?”

“I see it,” Legolas answered, and his voice sounded excited and hopeful.

It made Aragorn realize just how tired and defeated his friend had sounded before. Both his surroundings and his injuries had obviously taken their toll on the elf. Silently, he willed the sun to move faster. The dust had settled down almost completely by now, and with the additional light he believed he could see a hint of something golden down there.

“Legolas? Can you move your head?”

The elf did not answer, but one moment later Aragorn clearly saw the golden patch move. He smiled again.

“I can see you!” he called down. “Now we only have to wait for the sun to show me the best way down there! You will be out of there soon, mellon-nîn!”

After some time of waiting, which seemed agonizingly long to both of the friends, the sun had finally moved into the right position, standing directly overhead the dark hole in the ground and allowing its rays to fall down unhindered into the cave below. A shaft of light appeared, piercing the darkness and illuminating a part of the ground below and a lonely elf sitting on it.

It was a relief for Aragorn to finally see Legolas clearly again, and not just hear his disembodied, echoing voice. For some reason, it was much more calming to see that Legolas was alive than to only hear it. The elf sat huddled against the rock wall, his cloak wrapped tightly around him. Aragorn frowned. Sitting up here in the still-bright autumn sun he had failed to realize how cold it must be down there.

At that moment, Legolas looked up and their eyes met. Aragorn saw a smile appear on the fair features and noticed the same, if not more relief on Legolas’ face that he had felt before. He could only guess how wonderful it must be for the elf to be out of the darkness again, if only for a short time. The elf’s right leg was stretched out in front of him, bent at an unnatural angle right under the knee.

Suddenly Aragorn became aware of how far down Legolas was, even deeper than he had feared before. It was all the more reason to find a way down there quickly, while the sun was still in the right position. He directed his attention to the rock wall Legolas was leaning against. The ranger did not like what he saw.

The wall was smooth and glistening with moisture, and barely seemed to provide any hand- or foot-holds at all. He followed the wall with his eyes from the bottom to the rim of the hole directly in front of him. He pressed his lips together tightly and looked again, more closely, leaning forward until he nearly lost his balance.

Finally he sat back slowly, hoping that the sun behind him would hide his features from his friend. The only way to get down there without a rope was to jump, and it would help no one if they were both trapped down there with broken bones.

Aragorn felt both defeated and angry at his own helplessness. Why did something as unlikely as this have to happen on a day that should have been filled with the pleasure of seeing each other again, with talking and celebrating? There were so many things he had wanted to tell his friend, so many things they had wanted to do together, and now Legolas was trapped in a dark hole deep underground, and injured in a way that would prevent him from walking and riding for quite some time.

And all that on the day when the wood elves were about to celebrate one of their most important festivals. Aragorn knew how much his friend had been looking forward to it. The ranger nearly wished Legolas had just allowed him to fall without interfering. Though, on second thought, he was not sure if he would have been able to survive that fall.

Here and there ledges and sharp points of rock jutted out of the wall, too few to use them for climbing, but enough to collide with some of them on the way down. Aragorn found himself wondering if Legolas had really been able to avoid them. He realized that it was a small miracle that even an elf had survived that fall without any serious damage. He was not really sure whether he should feel grateful or angry at whatever fate allowed things like that to happen to them.

He felt Legolas’ eyes on him and knew there were more important things to worry about now. He looked down and met his friend’s gaze.

“You will not be able to climb down,” Legolas stated calmly. The elf’s features had hardened slightly, and his eyes were fixed on the ranger’s face unwaveringly.

“No,” Aragorn confessed, hating that he had to say it. “Only if I jump,” he added in a weak attempt at humour.

Legolas had to smile at that, and Aragorn felt his heart lighten.

“As much as I would value your company, I do not really think that would solve our problem,” the elf answered dryly. He fell silent for a moment.

“Go,” he said then. “Go back to the palace and get help.”

Aragorn tensed. “Legolas, I will not leave you here alone,” he answered decisively. “It took us hours to get here!”

“What else do you want to do?” Legolas asked, trying his best to sound reasonable. He was not looking forward to being left alone in this place. The light would soon fade, and the darkness would close in on him again. He was feeling tired and cold and a little bit afraid, and he hated all of it. But there was no other way out of here, and the sooner he could convince the stubborn human to leave, the sooner he would be back. “And even if you need hours, what could happen to me?”

“Says the elf who fell in a hole that suddenly opened in the ground,” replied Aragorn, sounding not the least bit amused.

Legolas stifled a sigh. It was obvious that the ranger was not willing to see reason. The elf could not blame him for it, in fact he even felt a bit grateful for his friend’s concern, however mule-headed it might be. But the only other thing they could do was sit here and wait until someone found them, and with all the excitement about the festival that could take a very long time.

Even aside from that Thranduil and everyone else knew that they tended to forget the time when they were together, and no-one knew where they had gone. Aragorn would just have to listen to him, whether he wanted to or not.

“Aragorn, I am not hiding any serious injuries from you, I do not think the cave is likely to collapse and as there is not a single cloud in the sky I will probably not drown or be hit by lightning anytime soon. I will not pretend that I like the situation, but you are only making it more difficult for both of us. Just leave. There is no danger…” The elf stopped suddenly in mid-sentence, looking away from his friend and into the cave before him.

He had heard something, and it had not been the steady dripping of the water. He listened intently, but the sound did not repeat itself. Legolas hesitated, wondering if he was already nervous enough to imagine sounds that did not exist. For a few long seconds there was only dead silence. Then, suddenly, there was another sound, a light clicking, scraping, and something like – breathing?

Legolas felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Whether he imagined part of these sounds or not, he knew there was something out there. His nerves were already on edge, and listening to strange sounds from somewhere in the darkness did nothing to calm him down.

For the first time since it had appeared, the elf was not grateful for the bright light that surrounded him. He felt vulnerable and exposed, knowing that anything or anyone in the cave would be able to see him clearly, while the sunlight around him was so dazzling that even his elven eyes could not pierce the shadows and the darkness beyond.

“Legolas?”

There was a worried undertone in the ranger’s voice, and Legolas realized that he had been silent for some minutes now, lost in his thoughts and listening into the darkness. For a moment, Legolas considered keeping silent or lying about the new development, but he could not bring himself to do so.

The situation could very well become dangerous, and Aragorn had a right to know about it, even if it would make things harder for both of them. If Aragorn left and something happened to him, the ranger would never forgive himself.

“Estel, im ú-vinai!” ((Estel, I am not alone!)) Legolas called up to his friend, wishing there could have been a more quiet way of communication. If whatever moved in the darkness happened to be blind, he would have attracted its attention now at the latest. He cursed his broken leg, wishing he could move out of the light.

Aragorn straightened, and Legolas could very well imagine the alarm he must feel now.

“Man na?” ((What is it?)) the ranger asked, his voice curt and tense.

“Ú-iston.” ((I do not know.))

Aragorn stayed silent, obviously understanding that the elf needed to concentrate on his senses now. In the ensuing silence, Legolas could hear the same sounds again, and this time they were nearer. Something moved over the rocky ground, slowly and carefully, and occasionally he could hear wheezing or sniffing.

Looking in the direction of the sounds, he thought he could make out a large shadow moving towards him. His instincts started screaming at him. Whatever that shadow was, it was coming for him and it did not mean well. For the second time that day, he wished the sun would move faster. Silently, his hand moved towards his weapons. He had lost his bow and most of his arrows during the fall, but the twin knives were still fastened securely to his back.

Legolas knew he would only be able to use one of them, as he would need the other hand to brace himself against the wall and keep upright. If he would be able to stand at all. It was time to move and find out. He unsheathed one of his knives and took it in his right hand. Then he grit his teeth against the pain to come, and forced his unwilling body to rise, using only his good leg and leaning heavily against the wall for support.

The moment he lifted his broken leg from the ground, the bone shifted position again, sending a wave of agony through his body and nearly making him topple over. The elf could not stifle a groan, but his left hand found the sharp ledge that had pressed against his back before and held on. He remained in an awkward, half-kneeling position for a moment, trying to catch his breath and waiting for the pain to subside.

He listened, but the only thing he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. Legolas realized that his eyes were pressed shut and slowly opened them again. He did not look up, knowing exactly what he would see in his friend’s face. The elf was quite aware that he was in no condition for a fight, but it seemed he would not be given a choice.

Bracing himself, he moved completely into a standing position, slumping against the wall for a moment. Trying to ignore the pulsating pain in his leg, he straightened slowly, listening intently now. There was a soft scraping sound to his left, then silence, followed by something like a hissing breath from somewhere in front of him. The creature was moving, but it did not come nearer.

For a moment Legolas was confused, but then he realized that his unwanted companion was prowling right outside the circle of light that still surrounded him. He could only guess how long this being had lived in the pitch-black darkness of the underground cave. The sudden bright light was probably agony for it. Legolas relaxed a bit against the cold wall, knowing that he was safe for some precious moments longer.

He looked up to his friend, seeing that Aragorn had moved nearer to the edge of the hole, leaning forward in a way that looked dangerous to the elf’s eyes. The ranger held his bow in his hands, an arrow already notched.

“I am safe for the moment,” Legolas hastened to calm his friend. “I ‘alad gosta.” ((It fears the light.))

Aragorn nodded, but he did not relax nor move the bow out of its ready position. His face was grim and he clearly did not intend to stop worrying. “How are you?” he asked.

Legolas’ eyes flitted over to the moving shadow in front of him, and he hesitated. He was quite sure by now that he was facing some kind of animal, but he did not really know what it was or if it was able to understand what they said. But if it was intelligent enough to understand their words, the condition of its prey couldn’t have escaped its notice anyway.

The elf could not help noticing that the darkness was nearer now. The sun was slowly following its course across the sky, and soon the light would be gone, leaving only darkness behind.

Legolas looked up at his friend again. “I have been better,” he confessed, seeing a look of surprise appear on his friend’s features, “but I have also been worse.”

He smiled inwardly as he heard Aragorn groan exaggeratedly.

“Can’t you, just once, answer truthfully to a question like that?” the ranger complained.

“I did say the truth, mellon-nîn,” Legolas retorted innocently.

Aragorn shook his head, and the elf saw a smile twitch at the corners of the man’s lips. “I do not know how I ever manage to put up with such a stubborn, impossible creature as you,” Aragorn began, “but I hope you know that if you dare to get harmed down there, I’m afraid I will have to kill you.”

Legolas had to laugh at that, a high and clear laugh that echoed gently from the walls around him and seemed to be strangely out of place in the endless darkness of the silent cave around him. For a moment, all strange sounds stopped as if even the creature was listening.

A moment later, Aragorn spoke up again. “Be careful, mellon-nîn,” he pleaded, this time in earnest.

Both of them knew that there wasn’t very much the elf could do to be careful.

“I do not plan to die today, Aragorn,” the elf answered, for the first time becoming aware of the irony of his situation. Today was Ithil-na-faron, the Hunter’s Moon, the day when his people celebrated another year of survival against the shadow, another small triumph against the growing darkness. It was not the day to fall prey to a lesser enemy in an underground cave, especially not if you were the son of the king of said people. “I will be careful.”

Aragorn nodded, knowing that that promise was all he could ask for.

Legolas’ attention was drawn back to the cave and the fading light around him. The sun receded slowly and the sharp contrast of brilliant light and darkness changed into a soft twilight. He followed the strange sounds with his eyes. The shape of the dark shadow became clearer now, as the light became less brilliant and his eyes began to adapt to the darkness once more. The creature was large, nearly as big as a horse, and it was moving on all fours.

Suddenly the beast stopped pacing and turned, and Legolas knew that it was staring directly at him. The elf was standing at the edge of the weakening circle of light now, and for the first time he could see what he was facing.

To be continued…

Disclaimer see Chapter One.

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Chapter Three: Facing Death

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“Na brôg,” ((It is a bear)) he told Aragorn, never taking his eyes off the creature.

“Can you talk to it?” the ranger asked. His human eyes still couldn’t make out anything in the shadows below.

Legolas watched the large beast cowering in front of him, pondering the same thing. The bear had lost all its fat and was unnaturally thin. The elf could even see the implied outline of some of its ribs. It must have been trapped down here for quite some time. It could not be completely starved, or it would have attacked immediately, but it was clearly very hungry. Legolas would have tried talking to it nonetheless, but something else made him hesitate. Something felt wrong about this creature.

Looking into the dark eyes, he saw a reddish glow deep in them, and he felt a sudden malice and dark hunger graze him like a cold, feathery touch. There was a shadow around this beast that had nothing to do with the darkness of the cave around them, a shadow he knew only too well. Somehow the bear had been touched by the darkness of Dol Guldur, and there was a hint of a sinister intelligence in its eyes, and more.

In that instant, Legolas knew that it had tasted elf-flesh before. It had crossed a line, and now it was out of control and dangerous. He read bloodthirstiness in its eyes. He would not be able to reach that beast. The bear, or the creature of shadow it had become, was beyond saving. For a moment he was nearly glad that it had been trapped in here. It was entirely too near to the elven settlement for comfort, and it might have found its prey before anyone even knew of its existence.

The only problem was that he was trapped in here with it, and he had no intentions of ending up as nourishment for this creature of shadow and prolonging its unnatural life if he could help it. Legolas wondered if he should tell his friend about all this. Aragorn must be already feeling wretched enough in his helplessness, and nothing he could say would make him feel any better. He decided to tell his friend at least half of the truth.

“No,” he answered finally. “I cannot talk to it. It is hungry and I also believe it is… evil.”

“I do not like this,” Aragorn answered, his voice sounding pressed.

Nor do I, thought Legolas and wondered if the bear would really wait with its attack until the last trace of sunlight had vanished from the cave. He raised his elven knife in silent warning. The creature snarled, a low, rumbling sound, and bared long, dangerous looking fangs and two rows of sharp teeth. One look at those fangs was enough to tell Legolas that he had to stay away from them if he valued his life.

Legolas looked up for a short moment, seeing that Aragorn was ready to fire an arrow the moment he saw something move. A look of silent understanding passed between them. Legolas only hoped that Aragorn would be able to see the bear clearly enough for the shot.

The bear’s fur was dark brown or black, and it was hard to distinguish the beast from the surrounding darkness. But the daylight that would still filter in through the hole in the ceiling even when the sun was gone would have to be enough.

Legolas looked back at the bear, which had stopped snarling now and seemed to be content to watch him out of its glowing, red eyes, half-closed against the sunlight, as it stood perfectly still. Carefully balancing his weight on his uninjured leg, the elf prepared to wait for the moment when the last rays of the sun would be gone, and the attack that would follow.

He tried not to think about the upcoming fight too much. It would have been hard enough to defend himself with a knife against a hungry bear who was also an elf-eater if he had not been injured, but now… He shifted his weight slightly against the wall, deciding that he would need the second knife. The wall would have to be enough to support him.

He raised his left hand slowly, aware of the eyes that followed each of his movements… and the bear lunged at him from one moment to the next, reaching him at the same time as Aragorn’s warning shout. Then the bear was upon him and he heard Aragorn curse somewhere in the distance, knowing that his friend would not be able to shoot now without endangering him.

The thought was gone as soon as it had appeared, and Legolas ducked, his reflexes taking over. Massive fangs snapped shut in the exact place where his shoulder had been one moment before, and the elf could feel the hot breath of the beast near his cheek, the foul smell nearly making him gag. He grit his teeth again, trying to fend off the searing pain his jostled leg sent through his body, and acted without thinking. He brought his knife up and slashed out against the big head of the beast before the fangs could snap at him again.

The sharp elven blade cut deep into the snout of the creature, drawing blood and causing the bear to howl out in pain and jump back. Immediately, Legolas’ left hand closed around the hilt of the second knife and yanked it out of its sheath. An arrow buzzed past him and hit the bear’s shoulder, burying itself deep into the dark fur. The beast roared with pain and anger, whipped its head around, and crushed the shaft with its mighty fangs.

Legolas tried his best to fight the waves of pain that welled up from his injured leg, pressing his back against the cool, steadying wall behind him, grateful for the short respite. A second arrow whizzed through the air, but the bear was moving again and it only grazed its thick hide, leaving a small, bloody cut. The beast snarled, moving its head from side to side, as if it knew that Aragorn was there somewhere but wasn’t able to make him out.

Legolas’ eyes narrowed as he watched the beast. Something was wrong with the bear’s senses. The light obviously hurt its eyes, but its sense of smell also seemed to be affected. Not that it would help him anyway – the bear knew exactly where he was. The creature was mad now, its eyes bloodshot and filled with hatred, its teeth bared in a perpetual snarl. As it couldn’t find its new foe, its head swung back and the red eyes fixed again on the elf.

Legolas suppressed a shudder as those eyes bore into him, feeling the nearly tangible darkness that emanated from the creature in front of him, assaulting his senses. He stared back at the beast defiantly, not willing to give in to an enemy that was much older and more dangerous than the bear he was facing now. The vile shadows of Dol Guldur clung to the beast like its dark fur, and for a fraction of a moment he wondered what had happened to change it like that.

Then the bear was moving, pushing itself off the ground with its powerful hind legs and throwing itself at the elf as if it wanted to crush its prey with the weight of its mighty bulk alone. Another arrow missed the bear and hit the ground behind its target, falling to the floor with a clattering sound.

Legolas did not even hear it. Knowing that he could not duck this attack, he let himself drop to the ground, intending to roll. His injured left elbow hit the floor first, and he was not prepared for the pain that shot both through his arm and his leg with the impact, making him gasp and paralysing him for a few precious seconds.

The claws of the bear scratched over the wall behind him, and it growled deep in its throat, slightly dazed from its impact with the wall. With a clicking sound the claws hit the rock floor and the creature came to stand over the elf, front paws on one side of him, hind paws on the other.

Becoming aware of his situation, adrenaline replaced the pain in Legolas’ body and he pushed himself off the ground and crawled backwards, dragging his injured leg after him, until his right shoulder hit the wall. He caught a short glimpse of Aragorn’s terrified face high above him, but could pay it no heed.

Just as he had managed to bring at least a little bit of distance between him and the beast, the bear shook its massive head and turned. Legolas did not try to get into a standing position again, knowing that one more fall would be the end of him. His leg seemed to be on fire, and he was panting. The bear looked down at the elf, and Legolas could see the dried blood on its snout and in its dark fur, and hear the wheezing sound of its breath.

If the beast was sick, he wished it would succumb to its illness right now. The world seemed to shrink around him, until it consisted only of him and the looming creature in front of him. Then the bear bared its fangs and moved in on him, slowly and silently this time, as if remembering the painful results of its previous attacks.

Legolas knew that the beast would not allow him to repel it a second time. He had to kill it now, or die trying. He would not give up, not as long as he could still move and while Aragorn was watching. Taking courage at the thought of his friend, he forced himself to hold still and wait until the stench of the beast made him gag again and the large fangs parted to go for his throat.

Then he brought his knives up in a quick movement that was nearly too fast for human eyes to follow, intending to bury them in the right eye and the throat of the beast in front of him. Reflexively, the bear threw its head back, and one knife slipped and hit the already wounded shoulder of the beast while the other missed completely and scratched harmlessly over its cheekbone.

Knowing that he would not get another chance Legolas leaned forward and drove the one knife deep into the creature’s shoulder while he tried to push the other into the still bared throat. The bear roared again, nearly deafening the elf and making him wince, and in this one moment of distraction a big paw slammed into his shoulder and smashed him to the ground.

Legolas gasped as the breath was knocked out of him and stayed down, dazed. He heard Aragorn curse and then frantically call his name. Fighting to gather his senses again, Legolas blinked and realized that the bear was nearly over him again. There was a bleeding cut over the throat of the beast, but he had obviously missed the artery. Seeing a ivory-white hilt jut out of the beast’s shoulder, Legolas noticed fleetingly that he had only one knife left to defend himself.

Aragorn called again, and Legolas finally managed to shake off the last remnants of the daze he had been in and start moving. He tucked up his healthy leg and kicked out against the injured snout of the beast with all the force he could muster. The bear gave a hissing sound and jerked back. One of its hind paws came to rest on the elf’s broken leg for a moment, pressing down on it with its full weight.

Legolas could not help crying out in pain when the pressure made the broken bones grind against each other. He needed all his willpower to keep from coiling up on himself. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he fought hard to control the pain, his fingers clenching around the hilt of the elven knife as if he wanted to break it.

Sensing that its prey was finally weakening, the bear moved forward again, jostling the injured leg once more. Legolas gave a groan. He heard Aragorn’s voice again and tried to cling to it. His friend told him to move, and the urgency in the ranger’s voice shook the elf awake once more. Legolas’ eyes fluttered open and he tried to obey, shifting on the ground until his shoulder bumped against the wall.

He looked directly at a gaping mouth filled with two rows of sharp yellow teeth and felt the hot, foul-smelling breath of the beast against his face. He pushed back against the wall, trying to move further away, but there was not much room left. Before he could even feel any fear, the fangs came down on him, closing on his left shoulder and upper arm in the exact place where his throat had been a moment before.

The elf cried out again when the long fangs of the bear burrowed into his upper arm, instinctively lashing out blindly with his knife, drawing a red cut right under the beast’s eye. The bloody fangs opened again and the bear growled at him, swatting at the knife with one paw as if it was an annoying insect. Both the knife and Legolas’ hand hit the wall forcefully, and his fingers went numb, losing their grip on the weapon.

The paw of the bear came down on the elf’s chest, holding him in place and pushing down on him with a weight that rendered him nearly unable to breathe. Legolas felt slobber and his own blood dripping down on him from the bear’s fangs. He felt nauseated. He heard his name called out again, but between the pain and the lack of air he was rapidly losing his hold on consciousness now, unable to move or fight any longer.

He looked up to the light above, knowing that Aragorn would be there somewhere. He wanted to say that he was sorry, that he had tried. But he was not even sure if the shadow he saw was Aragorn, and he knew he would not be given the time to find out. The only thing that was left for him was pain and death and regret.

-------

Aragorn was sure that he would go mad any moment now. It had soon become obvious that Legolas was no match for the creature he was facing in his present condition. Aragorn had tried to help as best he could, but he did not dare fire any arrows when the bear was too near to his friend. The twilight and the shadows down there obscured his sight, and he was not willing to take any chances with Legolas’ life.

Why could it not be Legolas up here, who was by far the better archer and would probably be able to call help by simply talking to the trees? Aragorn hated his own helplessness more than ever. To be forced to sit here and watch his friend try to fight the bear on his own was agony. He knew very well how much the simple act of moving must hurt his friend.

He had not expected the bear to attack when it did, and could only be grateful for Legolas’ skills as a warrior. When Legolas had gone down for the first time, his breath had caught in his throat, and he had only been able to breathe again after the elf had somehow managed to crawl away from the bear and survive another attack.

But afterwards it had only gotten worse, and Aragorn could not help cursing and yelling and had even gone so far to throw some stones into the cave, but nothing could distract the creature from its intended target now. At least Legolas had heard him and reacted to his voice before it was too late.

When Legolas had cried out, Aragorn had been sure that he could take it no longer, but he had been given no choice. So he went on to sit and watch and worry and call out his friend’s name until his voice was hoarse.

And now the worry for his friend was driving him mad, and he knew that Legolas would be dead in a few moments if he could not come up with something – anything – to stop that from happening. He called his friend’s name once more, but in his heart he knew that the elf could not go on this time. He saw the elf’s blue eyes turn away from the creature that was hovering over him and look for him. He was quite sure he read a silent apology in those eyes, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest.

Suddenly he felt a choking fear, followed by a terrible emptiness. He had a mental image of Thranduil kneeling beside the mutilated remains of his son, and knew it would break the king’s heart. Aragorn’s own life seemed to stretch into endless years of darkness before him without the light of his most faithful friend at his side, who knew his heart and soul like no-one else did. If Legolas died, it would leave a scar on his heart that would never completely heal.

He stared down at Legolas lying motionless under the bear, which was now ready for the kill. If he shot an arrow and only wounded the beast again it could start raving and kill the elf nonetheless. Suddenly, a crazy, dangerous thought crossed his mind.

Aragorn did not hesitate. He dropped his bow and quiver, took his bearings and a deep breath… and jumped.

To be continued…

Disclaimer see Chapter One.

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Chapter Four: Fall and Fight

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The fall lasted longer than he had anticipated, and he knew it must have been far worse for Legolas. Thoughts and fears tumbled through his head in frenzied succession, and falling through the twilight he wondered if he had truly lost his mind now.

A fraction of a second before the impact, the ranger knew that his worst fear had not come true. He would land squarely on the bear, and not on the hard rock right beside him. Aragorn could only pray that the fangs of the bear were not on Legolas’ throat already, and that they would not both fall down hard on top of the elf.

Then all his thoughts and his breath were knocked out of him. The bear gave something that sounded like a surprised yelp, its legs sagged beneath it, and it fell down heavily onto its right side. Still stunned from the impact, Aragorn instinctively buried his hands into the dark fur and held on, keeping himself from sliding off the beast’s body. The creature under him seemed to consist completely of hard bones, and his entire body ached from the collision.

In spite of the pain, Aragorn felt like jubilating inside. He was finally down here, the beast was distracted from Legolas, and it had not fallen on the elf. He would not allow it to ever get near his friend again, whatever the cost. The great bear stirred under him, reminding Aragorn that the time for rejoicing had not yet come.

Holding onto the rising bear with one hand, he felt around with his other hand and his fingers closed around the familiar hilt of his sword. Relief flooded through him as he found the weapon still in its scabbard at his side. It had been a risk to take the sword with him, and lots of bad things could have happened to both him and the sword because of it. But for once, his luck seemed to be holding.

The bear whipped its head around, trying to see what was clinging to its back, and Aragorn unsheathed the sword in one fluid motion. He gripped the hilt with both hands, trusting his legs to keep him on the broad back, and turned the sword so that its tip pointed down at the creature in front of him. Intending to kill the beast with one stroke, he raised his arms to thrust the blade into the thick neck before him.

At the same moment, the bear shook itself violently to get rid of the intruder on its back, and rose abruptly on its hind legs. Aragorn was jerked to the side and had to grab at the black fur with one hand to be able to stay on the creature’s back, but when the bear rose he lost his hold completely and all he could do was keep a death grip on his sword while he was hurtled through the air.

He landed hard on the rocky ground, tumbling over, somehow managing not to impale himself on his own weapon. He stumbled to his feet as soon as the movement had stopped, still a bit disoriented, and winced at a sudden stinging pain in his left ankle. Pressing down on it slightly, he found that it was sprained, but at least not broken.

The bear had found its attacker by now, and it was mad with rage to be deprived of its kill. There was foam around its mouth now, and it roared forth its frustration, sending echoes through the whole length of the cave. Aragorn moved further away, trying to get the bear as far away from Legolas as possible. The beast followed, obviously having forgotten all about the elf for the moment.

Risking a short glance at his friend, Aragorn noticed with relief that the previously still figure showed the first signs of moving. Then he focused his whole attention on the bear, raising his sword and waiting for the beast to come near enough for the first strike.

-------

When the heavy weight suddenly vanished from his chest, Legolas automatically started breathing deeply again, eagerly sucking air into his lungs, ignoring the protest of his bruised ribs. The dizziness and the shadows slowly receded from his mind, though the pain was still raging through his body. After some moments, his addled mind realized that he was still alive, and he blinked disbelievingly. There was no bear in front of him, and his throat had obviously not been torn out.

He heard some noises to the side and turned his head. What he saw made him doubt his state of mind for a moment. Aragorn sat on the bear’s back, ready to stab the creature with his sword. Legolas stared at him, looking up first at the hole above, and then at his friend again, and it finally dawned on him what must have happened. He paled. One moment later, he paled even more when Aragorn was thrown from the bear’s back and landed hard on the floor of the cave.

Legolas grit his teeth once more and fought his way first to his elbows, and then on his knee, ignoring the blood that was dripping down from his arm, and the pain the movement caused him. He could not just sit here and watch while his friend risked his life for him. Looking around, he located his abandoned knife and wrapped his fingers around the hilt, knuckles still bloody from the forced collision with the cave wall.

-------

Reaching Aragorn, the bear rose on its hind legs again, straightening up to its whole impressive height. Before the bear could strike at him with its claws, Aragorn suddenly saw an opportunity and seized it. He jumped forward, moving into the bear’s attack instead of away from it. Claws grazed his shoulder, opening bloody cuts, but he ignored it.

The bear let itself fall forward with another roar, either trying to crush him or instinctively sensing the danger. Aragorn directed the point of his sword upward and pushed with all the strength he possessed, driving it through the thick hide and into the chest of the beast. The bear screamed and the sound was far worse than the roaring before, vibrating through the cave and echoing endlessly.

The beast collapsed right on top of the man, writhing and trying to snap at the sword and the hand that held it. Man and creature went down in a heap, and Aragorn had to let go of his sword. The bear fell heavily onto its right side, trapping Aragorn’s legs beneath it.

For a long moment there was a dead silence, and Aragorn simply lay dazed, his ears still ringing from the creature’s scream. The moment he drove the sword into the body of the beast he knew it was no clean kill, but there had been no time for a better aim, and it would not be able to recover from that wound.

The massive head of the creature rested on the ground only half a yard from the man’s face, red eyes half closed, and Aragorn could see and feel the shuddering breaths of the beast. He felt nauseated both by the stench of the foul creature and the far-too-familiar evil that was emanating from it. He realized there were some things that Legolas had neglected to tell him. Then another shudder ran through the bear’s body, and the small eyes opened, staring directly at the ranger, seeming to burn with malice and hate.

Aragorn shivered involuntarily. He had no weapon left to defend himself, and he was trapped in place by the considerable weight on his legs. He tried to push at the body of the beast and get his legs out, but at the same moment he knew that he would not be able to free himself fast enough. The bear snarled and raised its head, using the rest of its waning strength to crawl towards the ranger.

The weight on Aragorn’s legs shifted and pressed down on him even more, pinning him in place. He groped around for something, anything to use as a weapon, but the only thing he could find was a stone the size of his fist. He closed his fingers around it. Rising as far as he was able, the ranger aimed the stone at the large head in front of him and let go. The stone hit the bear right between the eyes, and the large head crashed to the floor again, dazed.

Aragorn knew that the triumph would be short-lived. The beast was still breathing, and he had seen the bloodthirstiness in those eyes. To push at the body across his legs again would probably mean to wake it even faster. Just as he had decided to try nonetheless, the red eyes opened again. Aragorn knew this would be the end. He would have no chance against these bone-breaking fangs with his bare hands.

At least he hoped he had saved Legolas. The bear would not be able to crawl to the elf any longer, but the ranger did not know how serious his friend’s injuries were. This time it was he who silently asked his friend for forgiveness. The massive head in front of him jerked slightly. Blood was dripping out of the large mouth. Aragorn only wished the beast would die faster. The burning eyes were fixed on him. Once more the creature mobilized its strength to raise its head and move forward slowly.

Then, suddenly, the head of the beast jerked again and tried to turn. Something moved behind the dark hulk of the beast, and then a slender arm was around its neck, keeping the head in place and a shiny blade came down, speared one eye of the beast and buried itself deep into the ugly head. There was only a gurgling sound this time, no scream, no roar, and the beast died almost instantly.

Collapsing on the head of the bear, Legolas found himself eye-to-eye with the creature, and for one moment he looked into the tired eye of an old bear, before the spark of life died completely. He smiled exhaustedly, knowing that the soul of the bear was free now. The elf closed his eyes for a moment, propped up on one elbow on the head of the bear, concentrating solely on catching his breath and trying to understand that the threat was over now.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked directly into the concerned face of a disbelieving ranger. For a long moment, they simply looked at each other. Then the disbelief in Aragorn’s eyes slowly faded to relief, but the concern stayed. Legolas suddenly became aware that his friend was still trapped under the body of the huge beast. He was not sure if he was able to move even one muscle anymore, but if he had to do it to help his friend he would try.

Before he could say or ask anything, Aragorn had already followed his gaze and smiled. “This is no problem,” he said. “The bear just would not give me enough time to get free.”

To prove his point, the ranger began wriggling and pushing and had freed himself of the heavy carcass some minutes later. His sprained ankle had not been happy about the added weight, but apart from that nothing seemed to be wrong with his legs. The ranger focused his attention on his friend again, who looked very much ready to drop. Legolas had watched each of his movements, but he had not stirred.

Now he looked searchingly into Aragorn’s face. “Are you all right?” he asked, deep concern in his voice.

Aragorn was speechless for a moment. Legolas had just somehow dragged himself across the cave with a broken leg, his arm was still bleeding freely and looked like a mess, the blood of the bear along with his own was smeared on his hands and face and tunic and he looked very much like one of the walking dead. The elf must be in a considerable amount of pain, not to mention completely exhausted, but the one thing he was worried about was the welfare of his friend.

Aragorn could only shake his head and sigh. “Legolas…,” he began and interrupted himself. “Just allow me to patch up what is left of you and afterwards we may talk about my injuries.”

He saw a spark of resistance flare up in the tired blue eyes, and suppressed another sigh. “I am fine, Legolas. I really am. Only bruises and scratches. It is your injuries we should both be worried about.”

Legolas stared at him a moment longer until he finally seemed to be convinced that Aragorn was speaking the truth. “It is not as bad as it seems,” he said, trying to calm his friend and promptly starting to sway.

Aragorn was at his side in an instant, kneeling beside his friend and grabbing his uninjured shoulder, steadying him. “It is exactly as bad as it seems,” he chided. “And I will have to take care of this before it gets even worse.”

For once, Legolas did not argue. He smiled up at his friend weakly. “It seems you will have to kill me then,” he said.

The ranger looked so aghast that the elf could not help chuckling. For a moment, Aragorn was clearly worried about the mental state of his friend, until he suddenly remembered his own words from before. He shook his head again and smiled back at his grinning friend. “I will kill you after I have patched you up,” he decided.

With the ranger’s help, Legolas slowly rose into a sitting position, wincing at the slightest pressure on his broken leg. Aragorn hesitated for a moment. He did not really want to move his friend, but as with orcs and wargs there was an evil stench around the dead bear that would not fade even in death. When he could feel it, it must be much worse for the elf. He caught Legolas staring at him again. The smile was gone, and there was a strange expression on the elf’s face.

“Legolas?” Worried that his friend’s injuries were worse than he had feared or that something else was wrong with the elf, he scanned his friend’s features, but the expression on the fair face was unreadable.

“You jumped,” Legolas said finally, speaking slowly as if trying to understand something that he could not really believe. There was a slight accusation in his voice. “I cannot believe that you took that risk. You could have broken your neck. You could have died for nothing! The bear nearly killed you!”

Finally understanding what was going on in his friend’s head, Aragorn did not necessarily like it. “Did you really think I would just sit there and watch you being torn to pieces by that… monster?”

Legolas glared back at him for a moment. Then slowly, he began to calm down. The elf sighed softly. “No,” he said simply.

“Fine,” Aragorn grumbled. “Will you allow me to treat that wound now before you bleed to death?”

Legolas’ lips twitched. “If you have to.”

“Yes, I do. It would be a waste to nearly break my neck to save you and then have you die of negligence. And aside from that, I do not think you father would approve. In fact, he would probably hunt me down… though I really do not know what he sees in you.”

Legolas would have swatted at him if he had not been so tired. So he merely contented himself with an icy glare. Aragorn smiled. Then he looked at the carcass at their side and frowned. Before he could say something, Legolas answered: “Not here.”

Aragorn looked at him doubtfully. “It will hurt.”

“I know.”

“It would be far easier if I car-”

“I am still able to walk, Aragorn,” the elf cut him short, a stubborn, warning glint in his eyes.

“You will not walk,” was the stern answer. “This leg of yours is not going to touch the ground or you will stay right here.” Legolas merely nodded.

Aragorn helped the elf to his feet, trying to overlook the pain in his friend’s eyes. The short walk to the cave wall was agony for both friends alike, if for different reasons. Finally, they had reached the wall directly under the hole in the ceiling again, and Aragorn carefully lowered his friend to the ground.

To be continued…

Disclaimer see Chapter One.

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Chapter Five: Watch in the Dark

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The elf’s fair features were drawn and edged with pain, and he immediately closed his eyes and cradled his injured arm with his good one, trying to immobilize it. Aragorn squeezed his friend’s uninjured shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort and was rewarded by a weak smile. Then he started tearing long strips out of his own cloak, the only thing he had down here to treat his friend with.

The ranger gently took his friend’s injured arm, and the elf’s other hand fell down limply into his lap. Aragorn pressed his lips together as he saw the deep bite marks in the Legolas’ upper arm, knowing that if the elf had not fought back the closing fangs could have severed his arm completely. The wound needed more treatment than he could give right now, but the most important thing was to do something against the blood loss.

To his relief, Aragorn noticed that the blood flow had already started to slow. He cleaned the wound as gently as he could, still drawing a hiss of pain from Legolas, and wrapped it tightly afterwards with some of the strips from his cloak, hoping that this would be sufficient for the moment. Then he made a makeshift sling out of another strip and placed Legolas’ arm in it to keep it still.

Looking into Legolas’ face, he saw that the elf’s eyes were open now and he seemed to have relaxed a bit. They both knew that the worst was still to come.

“I will have to set the bones now,” Aragorn said, hating that he had to cause more pain.

“I know,” Legolas answered softly. “Just do it.”

Aragorn wondered for a moment what he should use to keep the bones in place, then his gaze fell on the few arrows that were still in his friend’s quiver. He took them out, snapping off the heads and tore some more strips from his cloak. Then he moved to kneel beside the broken leg and gently began to feel along it, trying to locate the exact breaking point and the position of the bones. When he found it, Legolas hissed again and jerked slightly under his hands.

Very gently, Aragorn positioned the leg in his lap. “It is a clean break,” he said quietly. “It will heal quickly.”

He looked up at his friend as if asking for permission. Legolas nodded, and without hesitation Aragorn grabbed the leg firmly and moved the bones into the right position again. Legolas had to bite back a cry and would have jerked again, but Aragorn kept his firm grip on the leg, preventing the bones from getting jostled again. He brought the arrows into position and wrapped them and the leg tightly with the strips. Then he lay the leg down carefully, wishing he had something to prop it up on.

Legolas’ face was deadly pale now, and he sank back against the wall tiredly. There was perspiration on his forehead, and his lips were still pressed together tightly.

“I wish I could do more, or at least give you some herbs,” Aragorn said, regret in his voice, “but we do not have anything down here.”

“I know,” Legolas answered, forcing himself to relax slowly and look into his friend’s eyes with the hint of a smile. “You have done all you could, and it is enough for me. Thank you.”

Aragorn simply nodded, still slightly shaken by the pain he had had to cause. He helped Legolas to get rid of the quiver and settle down against the wall as comfortably as possible, sitting down beside him. Legolas slumped a bit, and Aragorn lay a supporting arm around his shoulders to keep the elf upright, silently inviting him to lean against him. After a moment of hesitation Legolas accepted, too tired and worn out for much resistance. Aragorn felt him shift, and then the elf’s weight pressed lightly against his shoulder.

Looking at the cave around them and the large carcass in front of them, the ranger suddenly could not help smiling. “The situations you always get us into, mellon-nîn…” he commented, not able to resist teasing his friend.

“I had nothing to do with it,” Legolas protested weakly before he could go on. “I was not the one who decided to walk over a hole in the ground!”

“But you invited me,” Aragorn said pointedly, grinning now.

Legolas glared at him. “I invited you to a festival, not to jump down into an underground cave and play around with a rabid bear,” he murmured, trying to stifle a yawn.

Aragorn chuckled. “Well, I think we had our hunt,” he said a bit wistfully. “I’m sorry, Legolas. I know how much this festival means to you.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Legolas answered gently, sounding a bit more awake now. “None of this was your fault, and if you ever insist on taking the blame again I will throw you down here again and leave you there, until some reason has found its way into that stubborn head of yours.”

Aragorn chuckled again, relaxing a bit, and after a moment Legolas added: “Though I am not sure if the bear would agree about who the hunter was in that game.”

“Always the one who survives, my friend,” the ranger replied softly, smiling at his friend. “Always the one who survives.”

Legolas smiled back at him, and for a while they just sat there, a comfortable silence settling down on them. Aragorn looked up at the hole in the ceiling thoughtfully.

“I wonder…” he began and realized that the weight against him was shifting once more. Looking down at his friend he saw that the elf’s head had sunk down on his shoulder.

“Legolas?” he asked, but there was no answer. The elf had fallen asleep, his eyes half closed with exhaustion.

Content that his friend was finally getting the rest he needed, Aragorn lay his head back against the wall again. He could only hope that the elf’s wound would not get infected and drain his strength even more. After a moment’s thought, he leaned over slightly and wrapped the elven cloak tightly around the form of his friend, making sure that the elf was covered completely. Then he drew him a bit closer, trying to share his body warmth.

Usually, it would have been him who was in danger of freezing, but the pain, the darkness and the blood loss had taken its toll on Legolas, and even before the fight with the bear, one look at the elf beneath him in the cave had been enough to tell Aragorn that his friend had become susceptible to the cold.

Legolas did not even stir through his ministrations, and Aragorn was glad about it. He felt his friend’s pulse to make sure that the elf was truly only sleeping, then he changed his own position slightly and prepared himself to sit here for what would probably be a long time.

-------

Surrounded by the dim light from above and the darkness of the cave beyond, and with only the carcass of the bear keeping them company, the time went by slowly. Aragorn was quite glad he had some quiet time to think and recover from all the agitation and the anxiety before. First Legolas’ fall, then his friend’s near-brush with death, his own jump, the fight with the bear and then the treatment of Legolas’ injuries – it was a bit much for one day.

In the last hour, he had nearly lost his friend and died himself. He felt too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to even be angry over what had happened anymore. It was calming to feel the light weight of his friend against him, and the slight, nearly imperceptible movement of his body with each breath. Once more he was immensely grateful that Legolas was still alive and at his side. He looked down at the golden head resting on his shoulder and smiled. Noticing that some of the golden strands had fallen over his friend’s face, he gently brushed them back over the elf’s shoulder. There was beauty in this day, because they had survived.

Looking up at the hole in the ceiling once more, Aragorn wondered when someone would notice that they were missing, and how long they would need to find them. It had been noon when the ground gave way beneath him, and in spite of all the things that had happened since then, it could not be much later now.

The hunting party would gather in the evening, and the Hunt would start at dusk. It was very probable that no one would miss them till then. It was also very likely that even Thranduil would not be able to find them here at night, meaning that they would have to wait for their rescue until morning.

Having to stay here through the night was not something Aragorn looked forward to. Even now, it was cold down here, and the ever-present moisture was starting to seep through his clothes where he leaned against the rock wall, making him feel anything but comfortable. He looked down worriedly at his friend once more. He could only hope that the elf’s condition would remain stable through the night.

As if reacting to his friend’s gloomy thoughts, Legolas stirred slightly. Aragorn held his breath, fearing that the elf was waking. It would be best if Legolas rested as long as possible, and even better if he just slept through the night. But Legolas only shifted a bit, drawing his good leg closer to his body, trying to curl in on himself.

The fair features tensed for a moment, and Aragorn knew that his friend was feeling pain again, but then the elf relaxed slowly against his shoulder, falling back into a deep, and seemingly peaceful, sleep. Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief. He feared that Legolas was already starting to feel the cold again, but he hoped it would help that the elf was leaning against him and not against the wall. In any case, it was better when he remained asleep.

Aragorn would have liked to know what was going on outside now. He had never been here on Hunter’s Moon before, though Legolas had told him nearly everything there was to know about it. For all he knew, the elf had never missed the Hunt until now.

Aragorn had heard the name Hunter’s Moon before, but nowhere else but in Mirkwood was that day considered as a festival. Among the rangers, the full moon in Narquelië ((October)) was called “Hunter’s Moon” or “Blood Moon”. They usually used the whole night for hunting, stockpiling the food they needed for the winter ahead. As the elves did not eat meat very often, or not at all, the day held no special meaning in Rivendell, though Elladan and Elrohir would sometimes join the rangers in their hunt.

But in Mirkwood, this day had acquired a special meaning since shortly after Dol Guldur had been erected and the necromancer had appeared for the first time. It was a grim festival, and the hunt was a symbolic one. On this day – or rather, in this night - the elves celebrated one more year of survival against the darkness, another year in which they had been the hunters and not the prey.

It was also a day of remembrance of the blood that had been shed and the lives that had been lost, though the elves did not need it to be reminded of the dead – an elven heart never forgot the loss of a loved one, or the grief it had caused. The day before the festival was usually spent with family and best friends, with the people that were close to one’s heart. At undómë ((dusk)) there would be the Hunt.

All the elven warriors of the woodland realm, apart from some few who still patrolled the borders, would gather in front of the palace and then fan out, led by their king and prince, to hunt down any creature of darkness that had dared to venture into the protected part of the forest that still belonged to the elves alone. Most of the time, this hunt was symbolic, as nearly no creature of darkness was bold enough to cross the borders of the elven realm if it was not a precursor to a massive attack.

Aragorn’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to the huge carcass of the bear before them. If Sauron had wanted to exact a special kind of revenge on Thranduil and his people he could not have chosen a better time or a better target. But Aragorn knew that no one, not even the Evil One himself, could have planned such a sequence of events.

Still, they truly had had their Hunt today, and had nearly been the hunted. Thranduil’s heart and the resistance of his people could have been broken today. The last traces of anger in Aragorn’s heart faded away, and he began to believe that the Valar must have been watching over their children today.

It had been a special honour for him to be invited to the festival, as the wood-elves kept this festival private and usually did not even invite other elves to join them on that day. But as Aragorn and his rangers were fighting the same darkness on the other side of the Misty Mountains, and he had joined Legolas in many border patrols, Thranduil had agreed to his son’s wish to invite his friend.

He wondered if the Hunt would take place at all, and if there would be songs of loss, triumph and great deeds tonight, after the absence of the prince had been discovered. Perhaps not. The wood-elves dearly loved their prince, and Aragorn could not imagine Thranduil celebrating while his son was missing. If he did hunt, then it would more likely be for his son than for any creatures of darkness.

Aragorn sighed. It seemed it would be a long night for all of them. Trying to ignore the cold, his aching ankle, the carcass, and the dark cave around them, he waited and kept a silent watch over his sleeping friend.

-------

Some time later, Aragorn jerked awake from a restless sleep. For a moment, he felt completely disoriented. He was cold to the bones, his neck hurt from the unnatural position it had been resting in, and he had no memory of falling asleep in the first place. In fact, he had not intended to sleep at all. Wondering what had awoken him, he first checked on Legolas. The elf was still resting, undisturbed, at his side, and his pulse was steady.

Relieved, he then eyed their surroundings. There was still a circle of twilight around them, but the light had dimmed slightly. Aragorn concluded that it must be evening in the outside world. Soon the shadows of the trees would hide the sinking sun, and then darkness would fall. He was glad that there would be a full moon tonight. Hopefully it would provide at least enough light to see in. He did not want Legolas to awake to pitch-black darkness in an underground cave.

Feeling tired and still a bit sleep-muddled, the ranger looked up to the hole in the ceiling… and blinked. He was not sure if he was having a vision or if he was still dreaming. There, dangerously near to the brink of the hole above, stood a majestic figure, a being of light that could only be one of the Valar themselves.

A golden glow surrounded the head of the being like a crown of light, and leaves in the flaming colours of autumn wound around the noble brow. The figure wore long, flowing robes of the same fiery colours, which seemed to waft slightly as if moved by a gentle wind. For a long moment, the being did not move, but simply stood there and looked down. Aragorn was awestruck by the beauty and unreality of this sight.

Then the being turned around, robes swirling behind him, and vanished, leaving a confused ranger behind. Suddenly, Aragorn heard someone call for a rope in a loud, demanding voice, and the last remnants of the vision shattered. There was no mistaking this voice, especially when it spoke in a tone like that. From one moment to the next, Aragorn was wide awake, listening intently, hoping that this was not a dream.

One moment later the figure was back, and this time he had no problems recognizing it.

“Legolas? Aragorn? Can you hear me?” The voice was controlled, but there was also concern in it, and hearing it made Aragorn dizzy with relief.

“Yes, I can hear you, my lord,” he called back.

“Good,” Thranduil answered. “I will be with you in a moment.” With these words, he was gone again.

Aragorn knew that the king would be deeply worried for his son by now, and that he had not asked any questions about Legolas’ condition told him that he was probably afraid to hear the answer. The ranger could not blame him. It was impossible to miss that Legolas sat slumped against him and had not even stirred through the entire, rather loud, exchange.

In fact, Aragorn was getting concerned too. The loud voices should have roused the elf in spite of his exhaustion, and he should have recognized his father’s voice. Aragorn looked down at the still form at his side, suddenly realizing that the elf’s eyes were closed now. How could he not have noticed that before?

To be continued…

Disclaimer see Chapter One.

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Chapter Six: Ithil na Faron

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“Legolas?” he asked, laying one hand gently at his friend’s cheek. “You have to wake up now!”

There was no reaction, but what he felt made the ranger frown. His hand wandered from his friend’s cheek to his forehead, and he did not like what he found. Legolas was running a fever. Thankfully, it was not high, but it explained his friend’s lack of reaction and the closed eyes.

Aragorn was suddenly angry at himself. Legolas could have burnt up with fever and he would never have noticed, because he had had to fall asleep. Perhaps there was nothing he could have done, but even being helpless was better than being unaware of his friend’s state. He knew that Legolas’ condition could have worsened drastically during the night after a fever had set in, and it scared him even belatedly.

A rope fell down from above, waking Aragorn from his dark thoughts. Thranduil appeared again, and the glow was around his head and golden hair once more, making him appear like an enchanted being from another world. Aragorn realized distractedly that this effect must be caused by the last rays of the evening sun falling on the clearing above. Then Thranduil kneeled down and the glow was gone. Without hesitation, the king gripped the rope and swung over the edge of the hole. He climbed down swiftly but carefully and soon reached the ground.

Aragorn felt a heavy weight fall off his mind the moment Thranduil set foot on the cave floor. The nightmare seemed to be truly over, for all of them. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but with the arrival of the king even the dim light in the cave seemed to be brighter.

Thranduil looked around warily, and his eyes immediately fell on the carcass of the bear. His hand closed around the hilt of the hunting knife at his belt, as he undoubtedly felt the lingering darkness of his old enemy around the dead beast, but then he relaxed slowly. He looked around once more, but seemed to be content with what he saw, turning his full attention to his son and Aragorn.

He quickly crossed the distance between them and knelt down in front of the two younger beings. His eyes rested on Aragorn for a short moment, seeing that the ranger was alert and seemed to be in no considerable pain, then his gaze was drawn to his son, noticing immediately the makeshift bandages around the younger elf’s leg and arm, the blood and the closed eyes. He looked back at Aragorn questioningly. Seeing the silent fear in the king’s eyes Aragorn hastened to reassure him.

“He is alive and will recover quickly.”

Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to look down at the pale features of his son.

“He has a broken leg from the fall down here, and the bear over there attacked him and bit him in the arm. Otherwise, he has only minor injuries. He also has a light fever, but with the right treatment it will be cured quickly.”

Thranduil nodded, only too aware of the consequences it might have had if he had found the both of them not now, but hours later.

“It seems there are many things you have to tell me,” he commented, looking around the cave, at the carcass, his son, and finally Aragorn. “But not now. I think we should get both of you out of here as soon as possible.”

Aragorn could only wholeheartedly agree.

“Are you hurt?”

“Only a sprained ankle and some scratches and bruises,” the ranger replied. “I will be able to climb without too much difficulty.”

“In that case you will be pulled up first and I will take Legolas and follow.”

Aragorn shook his head decisively. “No,” he said. “Get Legolas out of here first. It will not hurt me to stay here a little longer.”

Thranduil’s green eyes bore into him in an intense scrutiny that he knew only too well from Legolas. Then, seemingly convinced that Aragorn was not hiding any injuries or trying to be braver than he was, the king nodded again. “Very well.”

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes softening when they looked upon his only child. Gently, he cupped his son’s face in both hands, lightly brushing back the hair as he did so. “Legolas? Listen to me, ion-nîn! I want you to awake now.”

Legolas began to stir slightly, then his eyes opened and he blinked drowsily. Finally, his gaze fixed on the face in front of him. “Adar?” he whispered disbelievingly.

“Yes, it is me,” Thranduil answered and smiled down into the sleepy blue eyes of his son, which were slightly glazed with fever and also showed a pain that he never wanted to see in them again.

Legolas blinked again, and his gaze went past his father, seeing that they were still in the cave. “But… how…?” he asked, confused.

“I could feel you were in danger,” Thranduil answered softly. “We have been searching for you and Estel for hours.”

Legolas accepted this explanation without question, but his eyes widened in a new sudden fear. “Estel…!”

Then he felt the arm around his shoulders, which gave him a comforting squeeze. Looking up he saw Aragorn smiling down at him.

“I am here, Legolas.”

Legolas sighed with relief and relaxed again, finally realizing that they were safe and about to be rescued.

“I think it is time to get both of you out of here.” Without waiting for an answer, Thranduil slid his hands under his son’s body and drew him gently into his arms. Legolas paled a bit and pressed his lips together tightly as his leg protested against the movement, but he made no sound and did not resist. Thranduil lifted his son off the ground and rose. Legolas rested his head against his father’s shoulder, and Aragorn was not sure if his friend had fallen into an exhausted sleep yet again.

The king moved over to the rope, and Aragorn followed him more slowly, walking with a slight limp. Thranduil bound the rope first around himself, and then around his son, holding on to the younger elf tightly. Looking up, Aragorn saw that other elves had appeared now in the opening above them, ready for any command their king might give them. Thranduil jerked on the rope once, supporting Legolas with his other arm, and the elves instantly began to pull them up.

Aragorn followed their progress from the ground and finally saw their silhouettes disappear over the edge of the hole. Moments later, the rope came back down and it was his turn. Less than a minute later, he crawled over the edge of the hole and out into the late sunlight. The trees were whispering in a light breeze, and he felt grass and earth under his fingers.

For a moment he just sat there, staring at the last rays of sunlight playing through the foliage of the trees, and the blue sky above, and he thought he had never before seen anything more beautiful. Looking around, he saw that Legolas was awake and sitting propped up against a tree trunk, his father beside him. Their eyes met, and they smiled at each other in silent understanding. Being out of that dark cave seemed like being reborn into a new and better world.

-------

Neither the king nor the prince had led the Hunt today, as the one was being treated by the healers, and the other was busy hovering over both the healers and his son. Also, the festival began later than usual, but the elves did not really care. To them, the survival and the rescue of both their prince and his human friend was another reason for celebration today.

So it was a merry crowd that finally gathered under the boughs of the mighty Mirkwood trees and the pale blue light of Ithil-na-faron, the Hunter’s Moon. A large fire was burning in the middle of a clearing, tables had been prepared, beautifully decorated, and were now laden with food and drink, and new songs had been added to honour the newest victory against the darkness. The elves wore their most festive robes, and had decorated their hair with leaves, flowers, and berries.

In the darkness and the silver light of the moon, the soft glow around their fair faces made them look even more beautiful and ethereal. A minstrel played a gentle melody on his harp, and sweet voices rose in a joyful song, accompanied by silvery laughter. Aragorn could only look and listen in wonder. He had never seen the fierce Mirkwood elves like this before, and he had never experienced a night as enchanted as this one.

But the one who stood out, even among all the beauty around him, was Thranduil. He could not have been mistaken for anything else but a king, and he looked magnificent. He wore the same crown of leaves and berries that Aragorn had seen before, and the same robes in all the shades of the autumn. His hair was like spun gold, and the robes moved like flames around him. His bearing was noble, but in this night he was neither fierce nor stern, and the gaze that rested on the elves around him was warm and nearly fatherly. There was a special gentleness in them whenever his eyes rested on his son, and a deep gratefulness.

Aragorn looked at Legolas and smiled. It had not been easy to bring him here. The healers had carried him on a litter, and they had protested, complained, and resisted each step of the way, while Legolas had demanded to walk on his own feet and insisted that he was fine. Only Thranduil’s authority had made them all obey in the end, while Aragorn trailed behind, trying his best not to laugh out loud. It had earned him another icy glare from Legolas, but he did not really care.

Legolas was indeed much better now, but he was not “fine” and the healers had not been happy about moving him at all, declaring that he needed rest more than anything else now. They were right, of course, but Aragorn and Thranduil had been of the opinion that there were things that were more important than one night’s rest. Somehow it felt right that both Legolas and Aragorn attended the festival this night. It had become their Hunter’s Moon, their Blood Moon, especially Legolas’, and they had survived to tell the tale. They needed to be here and bring it all to an end.

Looking at his friend, Aragorn knew that the decision had been right. Legolas looked completely at peace now, even joyful, and Aragorn knew that the memory of darkness was fading from his mind as it was from his own.

Legolas’ robes were silver and blue and looked as if they were made out of moonlight. He wore a fine silver circlet around his head, which Aragorn had only seen once before, and he did his best to ignore the one healer that was still lurking behind him. Legolas’ face was still too pale, his arm rested in a sling and his right leg was propped up on a stool, but he was clearly enjoying himself.

Aragorn was sitting right beside his friend, clad in a dark blue tunic and matching trousers that he had brought for the occasion. His small cuts had been treated, and his ankle was bound tightly. Both friends were stiff and bruised from their respective falls, but they did their best to ignore it.

Finally, Thranduil rose and a hush fell over the crowd. The king looked at the full moon that was shining down brightly on the clearing, unobscured by any clouds, and back at the gathered elves before him.

“You all know what we are celebrating today,” he began. “Tonight is the time to remember our victories and our losses. We have survived again and we stood firm against the darkness. This night is our triumph. We will fight on and we will not be defeated. The Hunt will continue until the Great Greenwood is alive again and not only a distant memory in our hearts, buried by years of darkness and grief.”

Looking at the ethereal creatures around him, Aragorn saw that they had changed into grim warriors again, listening intently to the words of their king and supreme commander. Pain and dark memories were edged in many faces, but there was also pride and determination. He knew their feelings all too well, and in this moment it could have been his own rangers before him instead of millennia old, magical beings. He felt that he belonged here as much as he did to Rivendell and to the rangers.

There was a sadness in Mirkwood that ran even deeper than in the other elven realms, but there was also a fighting spirit that was unequalled. There was no ring to protect these elves, nothing to defend them but the strength of their own hearts and hands. And in this moment he knew that a lot of that strength came from their king – and their prince, though Legolas was not aware of it.

There was sadness in Legolas’ eyes now, and Aragorn wondered how many elves had been lost this year that his friend had known… and remembered at the same time the rangers that had been lost to the same shadow. Legolas turned his head, and their eyes met, both knowing that the other one shared his pain, and feeling comforted by it.

Then Thranduil turned and looked directly at them. “There has been another triumph today,” he went on, “another survival that is worth celebrating.”

He looked first at his son and then at Aragorn, deep emotions shining in his eyes. Quietly he recounted what had happened today, as he had learned it from Aragorn and Legolas, and the friends felt the gazes of all elves on them who did not yet know exactly what had befallen them today.

When Thranduil fell silent again, there were shock, gratefulness, and sorrow on many faces. The king nodded towards one elf, who silently took a large torch and lit it on the fire in the middle of the clearing. Some elves who had stood together on the other side of the clearing parted. Surprised, Aragorn saw a large pile of wood and the carcass of the bear upon it. Suddenly he knew exactly what the torch was for.

He felt Legolas tense at his side. The sight woke dark memories in both of them, memories of a dark cave and a desperate fight that had been all but forgotten in the hours before. The elf with the torch came towards Thranduil now, and handed the torch over with a bow. Thranduil took it and turned to his son. Aragorn suddenly felt worried. The king seemed about to hand the torch to Legolas.

The prince was not even able to stand on his own, and Aragorn could only hope that he would not try anything stupid, like walking across the clearing and setting fire to that pile of wood. He wondered if Thranduil would really allow an act like that. Concerned, he watched as Thranduil gave the torch to his son. Legolas looked at the carcass for a long moment, and then at the torch in his hand, seemingly lost in thought. Finally he straightened.

“Aragorn?” he said, meeting his friend’s gaze and holding it.

Distracted by his concern, Aragorn needed a moment before he understood what Legolas wanted from him. He rose and took the torch from his friend’s hand.

“For us both, mellon-nîn,” Legolas said quietly and smiled at him.

“It will be my honour,” Aragorn answered and smiled back. It was a genuine smile, but also filled with grim satisfaction.

Aragorn walked slowly across the clearing, the torch in his hand, and the elves parted before him. Looking at the carcass one more time, he lowered the torch to the pile and the dry wood caught fire immediately. He threw the torch on it and stepped back. The fire crackled and burnt high, hungrily devouring both the wood and the carcass on it. When there was nothing to see but the flames, Aragorn turned his back to the pile and went back to his place on the other side of the clearing, and his waiting friend.

He felt as if a shadow had been lifted from his heart.

-------

A few hours and many songs later Legolas fell asleep in his chair, and Thranduil carried him back to the palace while Aragorn limped along at his side. They tucked the exhausted prince into his bed, and Aragorn checked on his friend once more to make sure that his injuries had not been aggravated and he was not running a fever again.

Finally, Thranduil sent the human to his own bed and Aragorn just managed to crawl under the covers before he fell asleep. There were no dark dreams that night, and Ithil-na-faron shone brightly and silently in the dark sky above.

- The End -

Author’s Note: This story - or rather the festival in it – was inspired by the following description of the Hunter’s Moon: “According to folklore, October's full moon is called the "Hunter's Moon" or sometimes the "Blood Moon." It gets its name from hunters who tracked and killed their prey by autumn moonlight, stockpiling food for the winter ahead. The Hunter's Moon of 2005 is due on Oct. 17th.” (Space Weather News Oct. 15, 2005)