To Find a King

The months passed and Legolas and Aragorn ranged the northern plains of Middle Earth. Winter had turned to spring, spring into summer and now summer was slowly giving way to autumn. The days were still warm, but the hours of daylight were quickly reducing as they approached the Equinox.

Aragorn, who had by no means wanted a partner, now failed to recall how he had survived the previous years without the elven archer by his side. He almost could have sworn he'd known Legolas since childhood. The Prince had given Aragorn many a pointer on archery, and Aragorn's skill in that field had grown exponentially. Aragorn found Legolas easy to talk to and confine in, telling the elf many stories of his childhood in Rivendell, and of the past ten years he had spend ranging and travelling throughout Middle Earth, including one winter when he travelled all the way south to the White City itself. There were only two topics he would not discuss, and Legolas never pushed him: that of his relationship with the Lady Arwen, and him being heir to the Throne of Gondor.

Legolas, for his part, felt a changed completely. Not changed to anything new, but rather back to his former self of many years ago, before the sickness had begun to destroy the Greenwood Forest and corrupt all there that was green and good. Crossing atop the peaks of rocky, rolling hills, Legolas felt lighter and more at peace than he had for a very long time. The fresh, clean air, food freshly caught or foraged, and sleeping every night beneath the stars had all helped to reverse the effects of the poisoned forest surrounding his home.

Also, Legolas thought, watching Aragorn stride across the uneven ground a few paces in front of him, there was the company. Aragorn may not be the King that Lord Elrond had hoped for, but he was definitely the friend that Legolas needed. The Prince was more than confident to confide in the Ranger stories of even his darkest times; when his mother was killed, when his father came so very close to dying of wounds, of Ravenhill and Tauriel. Aragorn listened and he never judged, and he never pitied. Legolas enjoyed being in the man's company. He neither had to lead the man the way he had led troops of elves, nor did he feel as though he was being dragged around by the Ranger. In one another's company, they were equals.

Aragorn stopped atop a crest and looked back. "What are you smiling at?" he called against the wind in Sindarian. The two seldom spoke to one another in the common tongue.

"I did not realise I was," Legolas called back honestly, now grinning.

Aragorn grinned broadly back at his friend. "I say we make for the woods down there."

Legolas caught up with his friend. "I see a river. We need to restock our water supplies. Yes, we make for the forest."

"Last one down the hill has to start the fire!" Aragorn said, jumping from the ridge then running down the side of the grassy hill.

Legolas was the faster of the two, and even with a head-start, Aragorn was unlikely to win. "You should find wood easily on the forest floor!" Legolas called after him, leaping down the hill, quickly gaining ground on the Ranger.

Later that evening, as the sun disappeared behind the trees, the two sat by the fire which Aragorn had made, content after a dinner of grilled fish which had been caught by Legolas in the river nearby, and mushrooms.

"Tomorrow," Aragorn said, crossing his legs, "I think we head west. I do not believe us to be more than a day or two from the coast, and I very much feel like oysters."

Legolas smiled and leant back against the tree behind him. "I thought Rangers were supposed to protect the country and the people, not travel around seeking out the culinary highlights of the land," he teased lightly.

"And I thought pointy-eared princelings were supposed to stay within their Realms and generally behave themselves, not go out hiking over hill and rocky country with exiled men," Aragorn laughed.

Legolas laughed, before it the smile fell from his face. His eyes went wide and he jumped to his feet, grabbing his bow which lay beside him.

"What?" Aragorn asked, looking around.

"Put the fire out," Legolas whispered hurriedly.

Aragorn stood up. "Why?"

"Aragorn!" Legolas hissed urgently.

"Alright," Aragorn said, noticing something in the Prince's voice which gave him pause. He kicked dirt over the fire, extinguishing the flame. He was annoyed; that was a good fire he'd started. "What's going on?" he asked, coming up behind Legolas. He looked in the same direction as the Prince, but saw nothing.

"We must leave now," Legolas whispered.

"Why? Is - is that horse? Riders? Are they dangerous?" Aragorn asked, seeing two shadows upon horseback through the growing darkness.

"We must return to Rivendell at once," Legolas said. He turned back to the extinguished camp fire and hurriedly picked up his few possessions. Aragorn did the same.

"Why? How do we know they are not friends? What are they?"

"Can you not feel their presence? Hurry."

"Legolas!" Aragorn hissed, grabbing his friend by the forearm. Legolas turned and Aragorn saw terror in the face of the Prince. Even through his clothing, Aragorn could feel that Legolas had turned rigid and cold. "What are they?" he asked again.

"Black riders," Legolas said, feeling a shiver go through him.

"They're what?"

"The Nine. Wraiths." Legolas hurried away from the forest, back toward the rolling hills they had crossed earlier in the day.

"But - they're not real!" Aragon said, running to keep up. "Legolas, they were killed. Their corpses locked away. They - they don't exist!" he exclaimed, certain he had his histories right.

"I thought so too," Legolas said, "But I know what I saw."

"If they are the Nine, where are the other seven?" Aragorn questioned.

"Four are down there, you could have only seen two. I myself could barely see all four. There are five more out here. We must make for Rivendell."

"We are are at least a week north-west of there."

"We have no choice," Legolas said, "They must be warned. Wraiths roaming Middle Earth is not some trifle matter."

"Will they follow us?"

"I do not believe so, but that does not mean I do not wish to get as much distance between us and them as possible."

"Should we not go back and fight?" Aragorn asked.

"How?" Legolas said. "You said it yourself, they don't exist. No, mellon-nin, there is no way to defeat that which is already dead. No matter what we do, they will return. We must get word to Rivendell."

"But what are they doing?" Aragorn asked, puffing at the pace Legolas was setting up the hill. "Why are they here?"

"The Ring of Power has been found," Legolas said, not even breaking a sweat. He still felt cold. There was a darkness which came with the Nine that he longed to be far from. "They are ever drawn to it. Ever searching for it. They cannot rest until they find it."

"And they believe it to be int he wilder lands of Arnor?"

"I have no answer to that," Legolas said.

"We should go back and fight."

"Aragorn!" Legolas cried, stopping and turning back to his friend. Aragorn was glad to stop, even if just for a moment. "Please. You must trust me. Know that I would not flee unless that were the only option. We must alert Lord Elrond. I did not realise the situation was so dire. Forgive me, if I have scared you, but we must head south with all haste."

Aragorn studied Legolas's face for a moment. He had never seen the elf look like this before, so frightened and unnerved, with such desperation in his voice. Aragorn gave a nod. "Of course," he said, "Forgive my questioning. You have my trust," the Ranger said honestly.

Legolas forced the smallest of smiles. "I believe we can make it to Rivendell by the fourth morn if we hurry."

"Lucky we ate when we did," Aragorn said, a rue grin appearing upon his face."Southwards we go."