Disclaimer: I do not own them (only the OC's) or make any money from them.
They are the property of the Tolkien Estate.
Author's Note: This is being rewritten to bring it into synch with my other stories. No major plot lines will be changed. Some of my characters have complained that they got rather short shrift in these stories and they are quite right. I am attempting to rectify that.
Thanks to al for beta-ing this old stuff! Stars shine on you, mellon-nin!
Recap - Legolas had been captured by Orcs and tortured. He is befriended by one of them, Egla Ash, who helps to plan his rescue with a Ranger named Aragorn. One year after Legolas' rescue, Egla Ash is captured by the very Orcs he had lived with and taken to Dol Guldur. Legolas and Aragorn had tried to rescue him before he disappeared into that vile tower, but were unsuccessful. This story takes place 28 years later.
Chapter 1- Prisoner of the Elves
3017 TA
The creature was ugly; no one was denying that. It stood quietly at the end of the rope held by the Ranger whose grim face showed the dislike he felt for his captive. Its head seemed unusually large for its long skinny neck; the long, clever fingers were constantly in motion, the huge round, pale eyes staring at the faces of the Elves before it.
"Ha deleb glamog," {It is as horrible as an Orc} one of the Elves laughed quietly to his nearest companion.
"Then Prince Legolas should like it right well," the other whispered, his slim hand near his mouth so the words didn't fall on the wrong ears.
Bright eyes turned to where Legolas stood greeting the Ranger and the gray robed Istari that accompanied him. The Man clasped hands warmly with the Elf Prince. They had been friends for the last twenty-eight years, ever since this Ranger had helped to rescue Legolas from a group of Orcs residing beneath Emyn Mor Esgal. Then the tall Wizard embraced him, saying a few quiet words, the Istari's blue eyes twinkling as he regarded the Prince
"Is that the creature, Mithrandir?" Legolas asked as he studied the thing that gazed now upon him. He felt a rush of pity for the wretched being, its body so thin and wasted.
"Yes, this is Gollum. He is going to be your . . . guest for a time. Aren't you, Gollum?"
The creature looked up when Wizard called him. That was not his true name, but it was what they called him now. Though the tall Istari stared down at him with some compassion, Gollum hissed at him.
"Stay with the Elveses, my precious." He moaned then, long fingers twining and knitting together. "Away from nasty Ranger, and nasty Wizard," he muttered, glaring now at the Man. "We hates them, we does! We hates them, my precious!"
"Gladly do I hand him over to your father, Legolas," Aragorn said, scowling at Gollum. "Beware, my friend. He bites. . .and scratches. And kicks."
"Nasty Ranger!"
"I will be glad to be rid of your company as well, Gollum," Aragorn said with a tight smile. "Come, Legolas. Accompany us to your father. The sooner I am rid of him the better." He yanked on the rope that was tied about the skinny neck, dragging a reluctant captive behind him.
"Is that really necessary, Aragorn?" Legolas asked quietly as Gollum twined his long fingers about the rope, tugging at it and muttering under his breath.
The Ranger turned to gaze at the Elf in surprise.
"Yes, Legolas. I fear that it is necessary. Do not let his appearance fool you. He is a wily creature, and not easily caught. As you well know, my friend, it has taken far too long to capture him, and I will not let him escape me, even if it seems that my methods are cruel."
Legolas nodded. He did know just how easily the creature had eluded them. For eight years Aragorn and Gandalf had searched for him, following his trail through the vales of Anduin, through Mirkwood, ranging over most of Rhovanion in that time. The trail had lead to the very border of Mordor itself. When they had hunted him in Mirkwood, Legolas had joined them, except when they traveled to the far reaches of the forest. The Elves of Gladaran Thamas avoided the part of Mirkwood that lay south of the Old Forest Road unless it was absolutely necessary to travel there. Always the elusive creature had evaded them with stealth and cunning. Now that he was captured, they would take no chances of his gaining his freedom and fleeing them again.
Gollum hissed and muttered to himself, and to his "precious". He complained about the Ranger and the Wizard; he complained about the Elves with their bright eyes and fair faces. He trusted no one, and Legolas could not blame him for that. It was obvious that the creature had lived a life of depravity and anguish.
"Come then," the prince of Mirkwood said quietly, with a last pitying look at the captive. "I will take you to my father."
King Thranduil received his visitors in a small private garden hedged in by dark leaved shrubbery. The soft sound of water splashing in a carved fountain mingled pleasantly with the nighttime calls of the birds and soft Elvish voices. The king was seated in a chair by a small table with delicately carved legs, the chill autumn moonlight playing on his long golden locks crowned with colorful autumn leaves.
"Greetings, Mithrandir," he said, rising gracefully to greet the Wizard. "Dunadan. It is good to see you again. You have both been strangers for far too long. Come and join me," he gestured to the small table set with wine glasses and plates, a basket of fresh bread, a plate bearing apples and grapes, and a bottle of wine. Word of their arrival had obviously preceded them.
Thranduil's eyes rested on Gollum, a look of disgust playing across his handsome face.
"I see that you have finally managed to capture it. Lindir, take this creature to the dungeons."
A young Silvan Elf with a long spill of dark hair moved to take the rope from Aragorn, his green eyes filling with wonder as he gazed at Gollum.
"Nay, Thranduil," Gandalf said, stepping forward. "He needs no darkness. His thoughts will only turn to more mischief and evil. Though he likes not the sun, and little tolerates the moon, he needs to be in the open air. Perhaps even one such as he may heal if the cure is good."
"I have little hope for this one, Mithrandir," Thranduil countered, looking down at the creature that was still muttering and fretting with the rope. "He has a foul look about him."
"Not all things that look foul are, Father," Legolas said suddenly, his blue eyes hard. "Some times a gentle and good soul can rest behind a vile countenance."
Thranduil met his son's gaze calmly. This was a subject not often mentioned. It was a wound that would not heal despite the passing of the years. The Wood Elf king sighed slightly, and turned to regard the Wizard.
"What do you suggest we do with him, Mithrandir?" he asked quietly, pouring wine into a glass and handing it to the Wizard.
"He will need to be watched constantly, Thranduil. Make no mistake," the Istari said earnestly, his eyes traveling to the Legolas' face. The Elf's blue eyes were bitter and filled with sadness. "Treat him with all kindness. He wasn't always like this you know. Let him live in the air as much as is possible. Feed him well for he always seems hungry."
"Hungry, precious. Always hungry. Never enough food for us."
Thranduil started slightly at the sound of the hissing voice.
"Take him away and feed him then. Lindir, have some of the others join you. We want no mishaps." The King turned to Mithrandir and the Ranger. "The creature will be guarded well, never fear."
Legolas moved to take the rope from Aragorn before Lindir could.
"I will go with you," the prince said quietly. He looked to the Ranger. "I will join you later, Aragorn." He smiled slightly, then turned and led the shuffling creature away.
"You must forgive my son, Mithrandir, Dunadan," Thranduil said in a low voice as they seated themselves at the table. "He is always melancholy at this time of the year and does not make the best company. I have learned to leave him to himself at these times." He shrugged apologetically, taking a sip of wine, blue eyes distant.
"There is no need to apologize, Thranduil," Gandalf said in an equally quiet tone. "We understand."
While the Istari and the Elf King spoke softly to one another, Aragorn turned to glance the way that Legolas and the others had gone. He knew what the prince was thinking. He remembered that time twenty-eight years ago when Egla Ash, the Orc that had befriended Legolas, was captured by his own kind and taken prisoner in Dol Guldur. He and Legolas had tried to free him, even if it meant they must take his life, but they had failed. Legolas felt this most keenly, and it seemed the pain still lingered.
Then Man sighed and sipped his wine, its fruity, flowery taste filling his mouth. All about him the cool night air was filled with tranquil sounds: water gurgling, night birds calling, the last of the crickets fiddling their slow songs. Somewhere in the distance the sound of a lovely voice drifted upward.
"Lasta meleth-nin, an i aerlinn ned i elenath, I ri ned menel, sila celebren nain ned Elbereth." {Listen my love, to the song of the stars, The crown of heaven, shining silver tears of Elbereth.}
Music was as much a part of the Elvish soul as the stars themselves. Songs were always in the air when Elves were about.
Aragorn let the words wash over him. He felt himself relax for the first time since he had come upon Gollum in the Dead Marshes. The creature was indeed maddening. He knew he had not been as gentle with him as he should have been. He let his own frustration and , yes, disgust show too often. Gollum would never be 'cured' under his care. He wondered if anyone could cure the beast from the darkness that ate away at his soul. Perhaps the Wood Elves could. Thranduil would pick his guards with care. Some of the Elves would be repulsed by his looks and manners, so it would take special guards indeed to administer the 'cure' that Gandalf believed could be gotten here. Legolas would be such a one. His gentle, caring soul would be good for the dark being. Aragorn could think of a few others he knew that would be just the sort of 'guard' Gandalf wanted.
If it had been up to the Ranger, Gollum could be thrown into Thranduil's deepest, darkest dungeon. He would be glad to do it personally.
~But, ~ he thought with a rueful smile, ~perhaps I am not the best one to pass sentence upon him. I hate him as much as he hates me. He would see me thrown into darkness as well I think. ~
He raised his glass to his lips, draining the sweet liquid. A slight smile tugged at his lips before he turned to join the conversation between the Wizard and the King.
Legolas watched as Gollum ate, tearing at the roasted meat with his teeth. The creature talked and whispered to himself the entire time, words only half heard around the chewing.
"Bright eyes, starry glow, my precious."
Legolas and Lindir looked at one another and shrugged. They had no idea what he was speaking of, or to whom. Gollum snatched the food from them as if he feared it would be denied him otherwise, his fingers wrapping about it protectively.
"The starry glow hurts our eyes, it does, my precious," he muttered around a mouthful of meat.
"The stars aren't that bright," Lindir murmured, seemingly unable to take his eyes away from Gollum.
"Not the stars," Gollum grumped at him. "Elveses, my precious, they shine. So bright they are. Like stars."
"Oh," Lindir giggled. He was a young Elf, born after the Battle of the Five Armies. Legolas liked his lightheartedness, and found him to be an amusing companion. He was always laughing and jesting, just what the prince needed right now.
Gollum looked up at the sound of the laughter, and blinked his large eyes.
"It laughs at us, my preciousss. But we don't care as long as it feeds us," he croaked to himself, snatching more food from Lindir's slender fingers.
"I think he might eat your fingers if you get too close, young one," a stern voice behind them said.
They turned to see Tanglinna approaching them, his eyes fixed on the crouched figure at the two Elves' feet.
"Rather an odd creature, is it not," he said in way of assessment.
"Aye," Lindir said quietly, handing Gollum a flask of water that was eyed suspiciously before he gulped it down. "Truly he is. Though he cannot be as dangerous as the Dunadan says."
"If Dunadan says he is dangerous then you had better believe that he is," Tanglinna said sharply, noting how the creature's lamp like eyes moved toward him. "You cannot let him trick you into believing otherwise."
Gollum growled low in his throat, not liking the tall silver haired Elf that carried a great long bow across his back.
"Are you still hungry, Gollum?" Legolas asked, turning to see Tavor and Brethil coming down the path, speaking quietly together. The three had been best friends since they were small children, and though the carefree days of their youth were over the friendship was still strong. There had been a time that Legolas had been very angry with Brethil over his telling King Thranduil about Legolas meeting with his Orc friend. That bit of Brethilitis had ended in the Orc's capture and Legolas desperate, but futile fight to save him. There was still a reserve between the three, but the relationship was mending.
"Gollum is not our name," Gollum said petulantly. "Smeagol. Smeagol."
"Smeagol? I thought Mithrandir said it was Gollum," Lindir frowned, crouching to get a better look at him.
"Smeagol, my precious. That is who we are. Smeagol," he moaned, placing the long hands on his bony skull, lost in some distant painful memory.
"Very well," Legolas shrugged, knowing that it didn't matter what they called him. "Are you still hungry, Smeagol?"
Smeagol ignored them all, muttering to himself in low desperate tones.
Lindir stood, and acknowledged the prince's friends with a nod.
"I might have known that the two of you would come to gawk at the creature," Tanglinna said, shaking his head. "Keep a close watch on him, caun-nin {my prince}. Dunadan would not be pleased if he were to escape our vigilance. I will go and choose some others that will help you guard him." He shot a look at Brethil and Tavor before turning smartly and moving away from them on silent feet. Suddenly he turned back to them. "And do NOT let it go because it looks sad, Brethil," he called in an annoyed tone before leaving them.
"I wouldn't do that," Brethil said quietly. "Not any more. He knows that."
"Are the two of you going to volunteer to help us watch him?" Legolas asked, turning his blue eyes to his friends.
"I would like to if you will have us," Brethil said quietly with a glance at Tavor.
"Lindir and I would be glad to," Legolas said with a small smile. "Just don't let him go."
Brethil looked over at him, returning the smile.
"Tanglinna is right, Lindir," he said softly, his gaze moving to the younger Elf. "Appearances can be deceiving. I should know. I have misjudged before."
Legolas' smile widened slightly. He knew that Brethil was apologizing once more for what had happened when he had inadvertently betrayed Egla Ash to Thranduil.
"Well, then! I know that you will need my help," Tavor said with a sigh. "Mithrandir would not be happy if Brethil OR Lindir set Gollum - er - Smeagol free."
"I didn't say I would set him free either, Tavor!" Lindir said in exasperation. "I am not nearly as bad as Brethil must have been!"
Brethil shot him a look of mock hurt.
"I was not as bad as you have heard," he said indignantly and then burst into laughter, knowing that indeed he was as bad as the young Elf had heard.
Legolas and Tavor looked at one another and nodded sagely, then laughed with him.
As the other two continued to tease Lindir, Legolas turned his eyes south, a feeling of sorrow coming over him even in the midst of his mirth.
~Where are you, Egla Ash? ~ he thought. ~ Where are you, my friend? ~
But only the quiet sounds of the night birds answered his call.
The next day Aragorn went with Legolas to Beleg Doron, the great oak of Mirkwood. Its spreading branches were covered with leaves just beginning to show their coppery autumn colors, the grass turning brown at its roots. Legolas sprang nimbly into the lower branches, and smiled down at the Ranger.
"Come, Aragorn. Join me!"
Aragorn frowned slightly, staring up into the tree.
"I am not as good at climbing trees as you are, Legolas," he said with a grin.
"Of course you are. Come on up."
Seeing the slightly challenging look in the Elf's eyes, the Man shrugged and pulled himself into the tree.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Legolas said, his blue eyes merry.
Aragorn settled on the branch, his back against the broad, mottled trunk. He watched as the Elf seated himself on the slimmer part of the branch, knees tucked under his chin.
"I am not an Elf, you know. Or a bird," he quipped lightly, remembering the many times he wished he had been when he was growing up in an Elvish household. He had envied his foster brothers' many abilities that only their kind possessed.
"You are doing a fairly good imitation then," Legolas murmured with a grin.
Aragorn smiled over at him.
"How is our prisoner faring?" he asked.
"Smeagol is. . .well, he is chafing under his confinement. But that is to be expected. We took him out in the night, since he said he can't abide the sun. He broods too much . . . especially about his 'precious'. What is that? Do you know? None of us can guess what it is that troubles him so."
Aragorn sighed, running a hand over his dark hair.
"Just a trinket," he murmured, his blue-grey eyes troubled. ~Or so I hope. ~
Legolas could see the troubled expression that darkened his friend's features, so he didn't press him about the subject.
"He has been . . . tortured, hasn't he?" he asked quietly. "He cries out in his sleep." Legolas remembered his own fretful sleep filled with nightmares after his rescue from Emyn Mor Esgal, and his sympathy went out to the small, twisted creature that Aragorn had brought to them.
"Yes. When I came upon him he was traveling west, away from Mordor," the Ranger answered in a subdued voice.
"Mordor? Do you think he had been held captive there?"
"I do."
Legolas frowned, his blue eyes filled with emotion. Slowly he raised his head to look at Aragorn.
"Aragorn," he began softly. "Have you seen any Orcs in your travels?"
The Ranger laughed.
"That is a rather silly question, my friend. I have seen a great many Orcs, and other fell things besides."
"Yes, but have you seen . . ."Legolas sighed. "Have you seen Egla Ash?"
Aragorn gazed sadly at him and shook his head, reaching out one hand to gently touch the Elf's arm.
"No. But I do not often stop to look in their eyes. I have not seen him."
Legolas nodded, having expected as much, his eyes on the ground below them.
"I . . .I miss him, Estel. It has been many years since I have heard his voice, but still I think of him often. I wonder what became of him."
"I do as well. Perhaps someday we will know." He stretched, not wanting to tell Legolas of what he feared had happened to Egla Ash. "For now," he said. "I wish to get out of this tree. It is not very comfortable."
Legolas slipped lightly to the ground, and watched as Aragorn dropped down beside him.
Gandalf had left earlier that day on an urgent errand that he would not discuss, and Aragorn planned on leaving in a short time as well. The two friends walked in silence through Mirkwood's autumn splendor, speaking of many things though the talk soon returned to Gollum.
"You must truly watch him, Legolas," he said. "Perhaps he may find some semblance of peace here. Gandalf hopes so, but I do not know myself."
"We will do what we can for him. I hope that you may return soon to find him healing."
"As do I." Aragorn gripped the Elf's forearm and smiled at him. "I will watch for Egla Ash, Legolas," he promised.
"Thank you. We will watch Gollum for you. Diligently."
The Ranger turned then and walked west. Legolas watched him until he was out of sight, following the path through the trees. It would be many months before he saw Aragorn again.
He stood in a group of Orcs, waiting for their Captain's decision. The creature they hunted had eluded them yet again. The Orcs standing about him spoke to one another in their harsh voices, including him in their short guttural conversations. They still didn't trust him entirely, and he knew that the Captain kept a close watch on him. But for twenty- eight years he had been as they were, delighting in cruelty and hatred. Only his blue eyes set him apart now. His cursed Elf blue eyes. He hated the Elves. He had derived much pleasure in hurting them and slaying them, watching their blood flow red over his hands. But there was one Elf that he hated above all others. He had become this twisted, vile entity because of him, tortured and tormented, twisted and changed. "Legolas Greenleaf." He hissed, into the night, remembering all the pain he had suffered. "Legolas Greenleaf. One day we will meet again. And on that day you will die."
Author's Note: This is being rewritten to bring it into synch with my other stories. No major plot lines will be changed. Some of my characters have complained that they got rather short shrift in these stories and they are quite right. I am attempting to rectify that.
Thanks to al for beta-ing this old stuff! Stars shine on you, mellon-nin!
Recap - Legolas had been captured by Orcs and tortured. He is befriended by one of them, Egla Ash, who helps to plan his rescue with a Ranger named Aragorn. One year after Legolas' rescue, Egla Ash is captured by the very Orcs he had lived with and taken to Dol Guldur. Legolas and Aragorn had tried to rescue him before he disappeared into that vile tower, but were unsuccessful. This story takes place 28 years later.
Chapter 1- Prisoner of the Elves
3017 TA
The creature was ugly; no one was denying that. It stood quietly at the end of the rope held by the Ranger whose grim face showed the dislike he felt for his captive. Its head seemed unusually large for its long skinny neck; the long, clever fingers were constantly in motion, the huge round, pale eyes staring at the faces of the Elves before it.
"Ha deleb glamog," {It is as horrible as an Orc} one of the Elves laughed quietly to his nearest companion.
"Then Prince Legolas should like it right well," the other whispered, his slim hand near his mouth so the words didn't fall on the wrong ears.
Bright eyes turned to where Legolas stood greeting the Ranger and the gray robed Istari that accompanied him. The Man clasped hands warmly with the Elf Prince. They had been friends for the last twenty-eight years, ever since this Ranger had helped to rescue Legolas from a group of Orcs residing beneath Emyn Mor Esgal. Then the tall Wizard embraced him, saying a few quiet words, the Istari's blue eyes twinkling as he regarded the Prince
"Is that the creature, Mithrandir?" Legolas asked as he studied the thing that gazed now upon him. He felt a rush of pity for the wretched being, its body so thin and wasted.
"Yes, this is Gollum. He is going to be your . . . guest for a time. Aren't you, Gollum?"
The creature looked up when Wizard called him. That was not his true name, but it was what they called him now. Though the tall Istari stared down at him with some compassion, Gollum hissed at him.
"Stay with the Elveses, my precious." He moaned then, long fingers twining and knitting together. "Away from nasty Ranger, and nasty Wizard," he muttered, glaring now at the Man. "We hates them, we does! We hates them, my precious!"
"Gladly do I hand him over to your father, Legolas," Aragorn said, scowling at Gollum. "Beware, my friend. He bites. . .and scratches. And kicks."
"Nasty Ranger!"
"I will be glad to be rid of your company as well, Gollum," Aragorn said with a tight smile. "Come, Legolas. Accompany us to your father. The sooner I am rid of him the better." He yanked on the rope that was tied about the skinny neck, dragging a reluctant captive behind him.
"Is that really necessary, Aragorn?" Legolas asked quietly as Gollum twined his long fingers about the rope, tugging at it and muttering under his breath.
The Ranger turned to gaze at the Elf in surprise.
"Yes, Legolas. I fear that it is necessary. Do not let his appearance fool you. He is a wily creature, and not easily caught. As you well know, my friend, it has taken far too long to capture him, and I will not let him escape me, even if it seems that my methods are cruel."
Legolas nodded. He did know just how easily the creature had eluded them. For eight years Aragorn and Gandalf had searched for him, following his trail through the vales of Anduin, through Mirkwood, ranging over most of Rhovanion in that time. The trail had lead to the very border of Mordor itself. When they had hunted him in Mirkwood, Legolas had joined them, except when they traveled to the far reaches of the forest. The Elves of Gladaran Thamas avoided the part of Mirkwood that lay south of the Old Forest Road unless it was absolutely necessary to travel there. Always the elusive creature had evaded them with stealth and cunning. Now that he was captured, they would take no chances of his gaining his freedom and fleeing them again.
Gollum hissed and muttered to himself, and to his "precious". He complained about the Ranger and the Wizard; he complained about the Elves with their bright eyes and fair faces. He trusted no one, and Legolas could not blame him for that. It was obvious that the creature had lived a life of depravity and anguish.
"Come then," the prince of Mirkwood said quietly, with a last pitying look at the captive. "I will take you to my father."
King Thranduil received his visitors in a small private garden hedged in by dark leaved shrubbery. The soft sound of water splashing in a carved fountain mingled pleasantly with the nighttime calls of the birds and soft Elvish voices. The king was seated in a chair by a small table with delicately carved legs, the chill autumn moonlight playing on his long golden locks crowned with colorful autumn leaves.
"Greetings, Mithrandir," he said, rising gracefully to greet the Wizard. "Dunadan. It is good to see you again. You have both been strangers for far too long. Come and join me," he gestured to the small table set with wine glasses and plates, a basket of fresh bread, a plate bearing apples and grapes, and a bottle of wine. Word of their arrival had obviously preceded them.
Thranduil's eyes rested on Gollum, a look of disgust playing across his handsome face.
"I see that you have finally managed to capture it. Lindir, take this creature to the dungeons."
A young Silvan Elf with a long spill of dark hair moved to take the rope from Aragorn, his green eyes filling with wonder as he gazed at Gollum.
"Nay, Thranduil," Gandalf said, stepping forward. "He needs no darkness. His thoughts will only turn to more mischief and evil. Though he likes not the sun, and little tolerates the moon, he needs to be in the open air. Perhaps even one such as he may heal if the cure is good."
"I have little hope for this one, Mithrandir," Thranduil countered, looking down at the creature that was still muttering and fretting with the rope. "He has a foul look about him."
"Not all things that look foul are, Father," Legolas said suddenly, his blue eyes hard. "Some times a gentle and good soul can rest behind a vile countenance."
Thranduil met his son's gaze calmly. This was a subject not often mentioned. It was a wound that would not heal despite the passing of the years. The Wood Elf king sighed slightly, and turned to regard the Wizard.
"What do you suggest we do with him, Mithrandir?" he asked quietly, pouring wine into a glass and handing it to the Wizard.
"He will need to be watched constantly, Thranduil. Make no mistake," the Istari said earnestly, his eyes traveling to the Legolas' face. The Elf's blue eyes were bitter and filled with sadness. "Treat him with all kindness. He wasn't always like this you know. Let him live in the air as much as is possible. Feed him well for he always seems hungry."
"Hungry, precious. Always hungry. Never enough food for us."
Thranduil started slightly at the sound of the hissing voice.
"Take him away and feed him then. Lindir, have some of the others join you. We want no mishaps." The King turned to Mithrandir and the Ranger. "The creature will be guarded well, never fear."
Legolas moved to take the rope from Aragorn before Lindir could.
"I will go with you," the prince said quietly. He looked to the Ranger. "I will join you later, Aragorn." He smiled slightly, then turned and led the shuffling creature away.
"You must forgive my son, Mithrandir, Dunadan," Thranduil said in a low voice as they seated themselves at the table. "He is always melancholy at this time of the year and does not make the best company. I have learned to leave him to himself at these times." He shrugged apologetically, taking a sip of wine, blue eyes distant.
"There is no need to apologize, Thranduil," Gandalf said in an equally quiet tone. "We understand."
While the Istari and the Elf King spoke softly to one another, Aragorn turned to glance the way that Legolas and the others had gone. He knew what the prince was thinking. He remembered that time twenty-eight years ago when Egla Ash, the Orc that had befriended Legolas, was captured by his own kind and taken prisoner in Dol Guldur. He and Legolas had tried to free him, even if it meant they must take his life, but they had failed. Legolas felt this most keenly, and it seemed the pain still lingered.
Then Man sighed and sipped his wine, its fruity, flowery taste filling his mouth. All about him the cool night air was filled with tranquil sounds: water gurgling, night birds calling, the last of the crickets fiddling their slow songs. Somewhere in the distance the sound of a lovely voice drifted upward.
"Lasta meleth-nin, an i aerlinn ned i elenath, I ri ned menel, sila celebren nain ned Elbereth." {Listen my love, to the song of the stars, The crown of heaven, shining silver tears of Elbereth.}
Music was as much a part of the Elvish soul as the stars themselves. Songs were always in the air when Elves were about.
Aragorn let the words wash over him. He felt himself relax for the first time since he had come upon Gollum in the Dead Marshes. The creature was indeed maddening. He knew he had not been as gentle with him as he should have been. He let his own frustration and , yes, disgust show too often. Gollum would never be 'cured' under his care. He wondered if anyone could cure the beast from the darkness that ate away at his soul. Perhaps the Wood Elves could. Thranduil would pick his guards with care. Some of the Elves would be repulsed by his looks and manners, so it would take special guards indeed to administer the 'cure' that Gandalf believed could be gotten here. Legolas would be such a one. His gentle, caring soul would be good for the dark being. Aragorn could think of a few others he knew that would be just the sort of 'guard' Gandalf wanted.
If it had been up to the Ranger, Gollum could be thrown into Thranduil's deepest, darkest dungeon. He would be glad to do it personally.
~But, ~ he thought with a rueful smile, ~perhaps I am not the best one to pass sentence upon him. I hate him as much as he hates me. He would see me thrown into darkness as well I think. ~
He raised his glass to his lips, draining the sweet liquid. A slight smile tugged at his lips before he turned to join the conversation between the Wizard and the King.
Legolas watched as Gollum ate, tearing at the roasted meat with his teeth. The creature talked and whispered to himself the entire time, words only half heard around the chewing.
"Bright eyes, starry glow, my precious."
Legolas and Lindir looked at one another and shrugged. They had no idea what he was speaking of, or to whom. Gollum snatched the food from them as if he feared it would be denied him otherwise, his fingers wrapping about it protectively.
"The starry glow hurts our eyes, it does, my precious," he muttered around a mouthful of meat.
"The stars aren't that bright," Lindir murmured, seemingly unable to take his eyes away from Gollum.
"Not the stars," Gollum grumped at him. "Elveses, my precious, they shine. So bright they are. Like stars."
"Oh," Lindir giggled. He was a young Elf, born after the Battle of the Five Armies. Legolas liked his lightheartedness, and found him to be an amusing companion. He was always laughing and jesting, just what the prince needed right now.
Gollum looked up at the sound of the laughter, and blinked his large eyes.
"It laughs at us, my preciousss. But we don't care as long as it feeds us," he croaked to himself, snatching more food from Lindir's slender fingers.
"I think he might eat your fingers if you get too close, young one," a stern voice behind them said.
They turned to see Tanglinna approaching them, his eyes fixed on the crouched figure at the two Elves' feet.
"Rather an odd creature, is it not," he said in way of assessment.
"Aye," Lindir said quietly, handing Gollum a flask of water that was eyed suspiciously before he gulped it down. "Truly he is. Though he cannot be as dangerous as the Dunadan says."
"If Dunadan says he is dangerous then you had better believe that he is," Tanglinna said sharply, noting how the creature's lamp like eyes moved toward him. "You cannot let him trick you into believing otherwise."
Gollum growled low in his throat, not liking the tall silver haired Elf that carried a great long bow across his back.
"Are you still hungry, Gollum?" Legolas asked, turning to see Tavor and Brethil coming down the path, speaking quietly together. The three had been best friends since they were small children, and though the carefree days of their youth were over the friendship was still strong. There had been a time that Legolas had been very angry with Brethil over his telling King Thranduil about Legolas meeting with his Orc friend. That bit of Brethilitis had ended in the Orc's capture and Legolas desperate, but futile fight to save him. There was still a reserve between the three, but the relationship was mending.
"Gollum is not our name," Gollum said petulantly. "Smeagol. Smeagol."
"Smeagol? I thought Mithrandir said it was Gollum," Lindir frowned, crouching to get a better look at him.
"Smeagol, my precious. That is who we are. Smeagol," he moaned, placing the long hands on his bony skull, lost in some distant painful memory.
"Very well," Legolas shrugged, knowing that it didn't matter what they called him. "Are you still hungry, Smeagol?"
Smeagol ignored them all, muttering to himself in low desperate tones.
Lindir stood, and acknowledged the prince's friends with a nod.
"I might have known that the two of you would come to gawk at the creature," Tanglinna said, shaking his head. "Keep a close watch on him, caun-nin {my prince}. Dunadan would not be pleased if he were to escape our vigilance. I will go and choose some others that will help you guard him." He shot a look at Brethil and Tavor before turning smartly and moving away from them on silent feet. Suddenly he turned back to them. "And do NOT let it go because it looks sad, Brethil," he called in an annoyed tone before leaving them.
"I wouldn't do that," Brethil said quietly. "Not any more. He knows that."
"Are the two of you going to volunteer to help us watch him?" Legolas asked, turning his blue eyes to his friends.
"I would like to if you will have us," Brethil said quietly with a glance at Tavor.
"Lindir and I would be glad to," Legolas said with a small smile. "Just don't let him go."
Brethil looked over at him, returning the smile.
"Tanglinna is right, Lindir," he said softly, his gaze moving to the younger Elf. "Appearances can be deceiving. I should know. I have misjudged before."
Legolas' smile widened slightly. He knew that Brethil was apologizing once more for what had happened when he had inadvertently betrayed Egla Ash to Thranduil.
"Well, then! I know that you will need my help," Tavor said with a sigh. "Mithrandir would not be happy if Brethil OR Lindir set Gollum - er - Smeagol free."
"I didn't say I would set him free either, Tavor!" Lindir said in exasperation. "I am not nearly as bad as Brethil must have been!"
Brethil shot him a look of mock hurt.
"I was not as bad as you have heard," he said indignantly and then burst into laughter, knowing that indeed he was as bad as the young Elf had heard.
Legolas and Tavor looked at one another and nodded sagely, then laughed with him.
As the other two continued to tease Lindir, Legolas turned his eyes south, a feeling of sorrow coming over him even in the midst of his mirth.
~Where are you, Egla Ash? ~ he thought. ~ Where are you, my friend? ~
But only the quiet sounds of the night birds answered his call.
The next day Aragorn went with Legolas to Beleg Doron, the great oak of Mirkwood. Its spreading branches were covered with leaves just beginning to show their coppery autumn colors, the grass turning brown at its roots. Legolas sprang nimbly into the lower branches, and smiled down at the Ranger.
"Come, Aragorn. Join me!"
Aragorn frowned slightly, staring up into the tree.
"I am not as good at climbing trees as you are, Legolas," he said with a grin.
"Of course you are. Come on up."
Seeing the slightly challenging look in the Elf's eyes, the Man shrugged and pulled himself into the tree.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Legolas said, his blue eyes merry.
Aragorn settled on the branch, his back against the broad, mottled trunk. He watched as the Elf seated himself on the slimmer part of the branch, knees tucked under his chin.
"I am not an Elf, you know. Or a bird," he quipped lightly, remembering the many times he wished he had been when he was growing up in an Elvish household. He had envied his foster brothers' many abilities that only their kind possessed.
"You are doing a fairly good imitation then," Legolas murmured with a grin.
Aragorn smiled over at him.
"How is our prisoner faring?" he asked.
"Smeagol is. . .well, he is chafing under his confinement. But that is to be expected. We took him out in the night, since he said he can't abide the sun. He broods too much . . . especially about his 'precious'. What is that? Do you know? None of us can guess what it is that troubles him so."
Aragorn sighed, running a hand over his dark hair.
"Just a trinket," he murmured, his blue-grey eyes troubled. ~Or so I hope. ~
Legolas could see the troubled expression that darkened his friend's features, so he didn't press him about the subject.
"He has been . . . tortured, hasn't he?" he asked quietly. "He cries out in his sleep." Legolas remembered his own fretful sleep filled with nightmares after his rescue from Emyn Mor Esgal, and his sympathy went out to the small, twisted creature that Aragorn had brought to them.
"Yes. When I came upon him he was traveling west, away from Mordor," the Ranger answered in a subdued voice.
"Mordor? Do you think he had been held captive there?"
"I do."
Legolas frowned, his blue eyes filled with emotion. Slowly he raised his head to look at Aragorn.
"Aragorn," he began softly. "Have you seen any Orcs in your travels?"
The Ranger laughed.
"That is a rather silly question, my friend. I have seen a great many Orcs, and other fell things besides."
"Yes, but have you seen . . ."Legolas sighed. "Have you seen Egla Ash?"
Aragorn gazed sadly at him and shook his head, reaching out one hand to gently touch the Elf's arm.
"No. But I do not often stop to look in their eyes. I have not seen him."
Legolas nodded, having expected as much, his eyes on the ground below them.
"I . . .I miss him, Estel. It has been many years since I have heard his voice, but still I think of him often. I wonder what became of him."
"I do as well. Perhaps someday we will know." He stretched, not wanting to tell Legolas of what he feared had happened to Egla Ash. "For now," he said. "I wish to get out of this tree. It is not very comfortable."
Legolas slipped lightly to the ground, and watched as Aragorn dropped down beside him.
Gandalf had left earlier that day on an urgent errand that he would not discuss, and Aragorn planned on leaving in a short time as well. The two friends walked in silence through Mirkwood's autumn splendor, speaking of many things though the talk soon returned to Gollum.
"You must truly watch him, Legolas," he said. "Perhaps he may find some semblance of peace here. Gandalf hopes so, but I do not know myself."
"We will do what we can for him. I hope that you may return soon to find him healing."
"As do I." Aragorn gripped the Elf's forearm and smiled at him. "I will watch for Egla Ash, Legolas," he promised.
"Thank you. We will watch Gollum for you. Diligently."
The Ranger turned then and walked west. Legolas watched him until he was out of sight, following the path through the trees. It would be many months before he saw Aragorn again.
He stood in a group of Orcs, waiting for their Captain's decision. The creature they hunted had eluded them yet again. The Orcs standing about him spoke to one another in their harsh voices, including him in their short guttural conversations. They still didn't trust him entirely, and he knew that the Captain kept a close watch on him. But for twenty- eight years he had been as they were, delighting in cruelty and hatred. Only his blue eyes set him apart now. His cursed Elf blue eyes. He hated the Elves. He had derived much pleasure in hurting them and slaying them, watching their blood flow red over his hands. But there was one Elf that he hated above all others. He had become this twisted, vile entity because of him, tortured and tormented, twisted and changed. "Legolas Greenleaf." He hissed, into the night, remembering all the pain he had suffered. "Legolas Greenleaf. One day we will meet again. And on that day you will die."