A/N: Greetings, mellyn! I have another mini adventure with one of my favorite trios, and my own take on how Legolas and Aragorn could have met with the help of a very meddlesome wizard. ;) It's not a very long fic, just seven chapters. Will update every Tuesday.

Takes place TA 2961. Aragorn is 30.

Disclaimer: I don't own them; I just like sending them on wild adventures. Also, I've made an attempt to use proper elvish, but I'm not an expert and there's a lot of variety out there in dictionaries and usage, so please forgive any mistakes.

Chapter 1: Meddlesome Wizards

Gandalf sipped methodically from his goblet, eyes meeting the calculating gaze of his host across the table from him. "The Dorwinion is excellent as always," he complimented.

Thranduil held his cup cradled in one hand, elbow elegantly braced on the arm of his chair. "I shall have a bottle wrapped for you as a gift when you are on your way," the Elvenking of Mirkwood replied. The unspoken 'soon' hung between them like a thick gossamer web. Gandalf's beard twitched as he bit back a sigh of consternation. Thranduil had never liked the Grey Wizard overly much, though as the days grew darker, the king had taken to isolating himself further and further. To Mirkwood's detriment, in Gandalf's opinion. An opinion which said king did not share. The two old and wise beings disagreed on a good many things, in fact.

Light footsteps ascending the steps to the dais brought a smile of relief to Gandalf, and he turned his head toward where a blond elf in blue and silver royal garb appeared. "Ah, Legolas, back already?" Not a moment too soon.

Legolas's lips curved upward in a secret smile, as though he'd guessed the direction of the wizard's thoughts. The prince was no stranger to the aloof and awkward atmosphere Thranduil seemed to create wherever he went. "I've spoken with all of the captains not currently out on patrol, and I'm afraid none have reported seeing the wizard Radagast in the past several months." Legolas gave Gandalf an apologetic look, knowing that was not the answer he'd been hoping for.

Gandalf sighed; it had been a long shot anyway. "Well, thank you for checking."

"It is unfortunate we could not be of more help," Thranduil said, setting his goblet down.

Gandalf's shoulders heaved with a small huff at the trace of insincerity. He would even go so far as to say the Elvenking was relieved none of his people had any knowledge of the Brown Wizard. Thranduil looked as though he was ready to gift-wrap that bottle of Dorwinion right this second, but Gandalf was not finished.

"Actually, there is a way you could provide additional assistance."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed dangerously, yet before he could utter a warning, Gandalf plowed on, turning his gaze to address Legolas.

"I would like to conduct a search of the forest, and a wood-elf would be a most useful guide."

"We cannot spare anyone for such a trivial pursuit," Thranduil interjected, tone hard as steel.

Legolas frowned thoughtfully. "You truly believe Radagast is in danger?"

"More likely the bumbling fool fell down a rabbit's hole and decided to hibernate."

Gandalf scowled at Thranduil, king or no. "I admit, Radagast has his…eccentricities. But it is not normal for him to go so long without responding to my attempts to contact him. I will not divulge the inner workings of wizards to you, my lord, but I assure you, something serious must be preventing Radagast from reaching out to me."

"That is no concern of the elves," he retorted, reaching for his cup of wine once again. His mouth pinched sourly as he drank, though Gandalf doubted it had anything to do with the vintage.

"Need I remind you that Radagast has long been an ally of Greenwood? Tending the southern part of the forest and holding back the Shadow with as much devotion and zeal as the elves. You owe him a great many victories." Gandalf crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Thranduil's intense glare threatened to pierce him with ice daggers, but the Grey Wizard was not daunted.

"I do not mind going," Legolas spoke up, earning a sharp glower from his father.

"You have duties here," Thranduil pointed out.

"Yes, but is there not a greater duty to fulfill? Gandalf is right: Radagast has always been an ally to us. When has turning our backs on friends ever served us in the long run?"

Thranduil rose to his feet in one swift movement of swishing robes. "You would speak on matters you know nothing about?"

Gandalf tensed. Bringing up the incident of when Smaug had first come to the Lonely Mountain—and the events afterward—was still a very sore subject with the king.

Legolas's jaw stiffened. With a small incline of his head, he ceded the unintended disrespect. "No, my liege, I would never question your wisdom in matters of war and the value of elven lives. However…" And now the prince lifted his chin boldly. Gandalf always found it amusing whenever Thranduil was faced with a resolve to rival his own. "I am not suggesting we place the lives of our people at risk."

"Just your own."

"It is merely a reconnaissance mission," Legolas pointed out. "Besides, if something is lurking in the forest that is powerful enough to overcome one of the Istari, should we not be prepared for it?"

Thranduil's eyes darkened. "And if it turns out the wizard has simply been running amok?"

"Then we may toast his good health with a bottle of Dorwinion." Legolas's eyes danced as he exchanged a mischievous look with Gandalf. Thranduil, however, did not appear amused, and began to pace around his son.

"You speak of a dreadful evil hiding in the forest, one capable of overpowering a wizard, and yet you would go searching for it with only another vulnerable wizard as aid."

Gandalf bristled at the slight. He was a more skilled mage than Radagast. The Brown Wizard was talented in his own right, to be sure, but he wasn't exactly the type to face down a balrog.

"Would you send a contingent of elves?" he asked pointedly.

"I believe stealth would serve us better in this case," Legolas spoke up quickly, before Thranduil could. "I will be careful, father. And I have one advantage even an Istar does not."

Yes, Legolas's affinity with trees was one reason Gandalf had come seeking the prince's aid. Any wood-elf could commune with them, but Legolas's ability was particularly attuned, probably due to his mix of Sindarin and Silvan blood. That was only part of Gandalf's reasoning, though, and he had no intention of revealing the other half to Thranduil.

The king's jaw worked as though he intended to forbid it, but the reality was that if a threat was growing in Mirkwood, it would directly affect the elves eventually. That Thranduil could not ignore, no matter how much he despised Gandalf's so-called 'meddling.'

Thranduil waved a dismissive hand at Legolas, not bothering to meet his son's eyes. The prince inclined his head respectfully, then turned to Gandalf.

"I can be ready within the hour."

Gandalf nodded, and with that the younger elf pivoted and swept down the steps. The wizard drained the last of his wine and rose to his feet, retrieving his staff and hat from the back post of the chair.

"Mithrandir," Thranduil said, tone pitched low with heavy warning. "You will return my son to me in one piece." Dark eyes skewered Gandalf where he stood, tempestuous orbs swirling with the promise of violent fury should the wizard fail to do as charged.

Gandalf was not afraid of the Elvenking, but he did recognize a perilous situation when he stood on the precipice of it. "I can no more guarantee his safety than you can when he steps foot outside this palace on patrol." The air crackled with the clash of two indomitable auras, yet Gandalf toned his down a fraction and softened his voice. "But I will do everything in my power to look after him, as I have always done. Your son is a skilled warrior, my lord. Trust that he has a great part to play."

Thranduil eyed him warily, believing it a portent of doom to ever be involved in a wizard's prophecy. And perhaps, in a way, it was, for the price of being extraordinary was to face extraordinary—and often terrible—things. But Legolas would not be alone, that Gandalf was certain of.

With a gracious nod, the wizard took his leave of the Elvenking and made his way to the great doors of the underground palace where he waited for Legolas to join him. He did not wait long, and soon the prince bounded down the steps of a side corridor, having changed into simple green garb. His bow and quiver full of arrows was strapped to his back, along with a travel pouch. He held a second in his hands, which he offered to Gandalf. Through the opening, the Istar caught sight of leaf-wrapped packages containing elvish waybread.

"Ah, excellent," he commented, and donned his wide-brimmed hat.

Legolas nodded to the guards, who pulled the doors open with a heavy creak. Golden light filled the glade just outside, one of the few remaining places in Mirkwood where the sun could even penetrate the forest's thick canopy. Autumn had begun painting the leaves in bright reds, purples, and yellows, teasing them loose from their branches to dot the ground. The palace was an oasis in a forest that had been heavily tainted under the influence of the growing Shadow. Large sections of the once great Greenwood now festered with poison and malcontent, evil creatures nested within its boughs, and those who entered did so at their own peril. Yet it was the home of the wood-elves, and they would fight for it until the stars rained down from heaven and the elements burned away.

Legolas led the way across the bridge to the forest edge, but then paused to wait for Gandalf. "You wish to travel south to Rhosgobel, yes?"

"Aye, though I should like to take the Elf Path to the western border, and then make our way south."

"I can guide you through the center of the forest, Gandalf," Legolas pointed out, sounding almost offended. "Even though it is dangerous, I thought time was an important factor here."

"It is, but I have one more friend who will aid us in this endeavor, and he will be waiting for us at the end of the Path."

Legolas canted a curious look at him. "Not another wizard, for you would have used such information to convince my father quicker. Who then?"

Gandalf's beard twitched as he hid a smile. "You will see." Oh, Thranduil would have his head ere the king found out about this. But then, such was the reason Gandalf didn't tell him…

Legolas was used to the mysterious ways of wizards, but Gandalf's persistent silence regarding the identity of the stranger they would be meeting up with left the elf baffled and a little miffed. Why must it be a secret if Legolas would discover the truth eventually? Not that Legolas didn't trust the wizard, but Mithrandir's manipulations had a reputation for causing…trouble.

The further they traveled from the heart of the elven kingdom, the darker the forest became. Legolas kept his eyes peeled through the thickening canopy of gnarled branches and tangles of mulch snagged in old cobwebs. The Elf Path was meant to provide secure passage through Mirkwood, but spiders were known to cross it. Legolas held his bow at the ready in one hand at all times, and though neither he nor the wizard required much rest, they were forced to stop at night, for to use the light of Gandalf's staff would risk drawing attention from the spawn of Ered Gorgoroth.

They made it to the border without incident though, and Legolas felt a pang as he stepped from underneath the oppressive canopy; the poignant difference in the air that he inhaled deeply grieved his heart. Out here in the open, the air was fresh and crisp, whereas his home behind him was noxious to breathe. And no matter how hard he fought, he could not restore the former glory of Greenwood the Great.

His head snapped to the side as a hooded figure detached itself from a nearby tree. Legolas was surprised he hadn't noticed the stranger the moment he emerged from the forest, and being caught off guard put him on edge. One hand was already reaching for his shouldered bow when Gandalf let out a hearty greeting.

"Ah, right on time. I hope you weren't waiting long?"

Legolas relaxed only a fraction, but still regarded the figure warily as he pushed the hood of his cloak back. It was a man, with a head of dark hair that curled at the ends around his shoulders. A thin beard suggested he'd either had the luxury of trimming it recently, or was too young to grow anything thicker. His cloth was poor and travel-worn, and yet he held himself with a proud, almost noble bearing. A sword girded his hip, a bow and quiver his back.

"Not long at all. In fact, I intentionally arrived a little late so as to match your definition of 'on time,'" the man replied with a light smirk. Gandalf huffed.

Legolas almost shared the amused grin, and it struck him as curious that this mortal would be so knowledgeable of the wizard's habits, but caution had him maintaining restraint.

"Erm," Gandalf mumbled, shifting his stance to commence introductions. "Legolas, this is Aragorn; Aragorn, meet Legolas."

The man inclined his head in greeting, which Legolas returned, albeit somewhat stiffly. It was not that he held any great prejudice toward humans; he just didn't interact with them much. There had been a few occasions in Dale, and while some had proven their valor in the Battle of Five Armies, they were still primarily peasants. Not the sort to take on a potentially dangerous venture into southern Mirkwood.

"Do you wish to skirt the edge of the wood, or travel within it?" this 'Aragorn' asked Gandalf.

The wizard leaned on his staff. "I assume you have something to say about each course."

Aragorn's mouth quirked. "Greenwood has its own dangers, but there have been reports of orcs coming down from the Misty Mountains. It might be prudent to take the more concealed road."

Legolas angled a bemused look at Gandalf. Who was this man that the wizard would listen to his counsel? Not to mention that it had not escaped the prince's notice Aragorn had referred to the forest by its proper name, 'Greenwood,' rather than the more prevalent 'Mirkwood.' Was it out of respect? Had Gandalf coached him?

Gandalf turned to Legolas. "The spiders stick to the deeper sections of the forest, yes?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes. But I would still not advise lighting a fire at night."

"Very well, let us be off then."

Aragorn moved to retrieve a pack lying between the roots of an oak, and Legolas took the moment to draw closer to Gandalf's shoulder. "Man te?" he whispered, asking who this man was. It was possible he came from a nearby village, which would explain how he knew about orc movements in the area, but why would he leave his home and livelihood to help search for a wayward wizard?

"Mellon. Bór te," Gandalf replied, declaring him a friend and one who was trustworthy.

Legolas cast an appraising look at the young mortal again. He was having a difficult time understanding the purpose of bringing a human along, and so asked as much. "Am man theled adan?"

"Maen reinr."

Legolas frowned. A skilled tracker was all well and good, but surely there were more experienced candidates?

Aragorn slung his pack over his shoulder and turned back to them. "Im in Dúnedain," he said in perfect elvish without a trace of foreign accent. "Ni veren an gin govaned." It's a pleasure to meet you.

Legolas blinked dumbly at him for a moment before feeling a modicum of chagrin. He had assumed the man to be ignorant of the elvish tongue, for few were versed in it. Why hadn't Gandalf told him? Legolas shot the wizard a scowl before turning back and bowing his head toward the Dúnedan. "Goheno nin," he said, asking forgiveness before switching to the Common Tongue. "I did not mean to be disrespectful."

"You mean you did not expect me to understand what you were saying."

Legolas's jaw tightened. That wasn't quite what he meant, though in truth, he wouldn't have apologized if he hadn't been caught. He threw another displeased glare Gandalf's way.

"Alright, that's enough," the old wizard harrumphed. "Time may very well be of the essence here and I have need of both your skill sets."

Aragorn nodded once, and then pivoted to stride into the forest, apparently not possessing a single ounce of fear that any normal mortal would. Legolas resisted rolling his eyes. He had not made the best first impression, something that irked him more than he cared to admit. If he was going to spend the next week or so in the company of this adan, he would have preferred a more amicable start with the human.

"Just give Aragorn a chance," Gandalf said, and winked at the prince as he started after the Ranger. "Avo drasto."

Legolas sighed. A wizard telling him not to worry was like saying his giant pet spider was safe to touch. And this endeavor suddenly promised to be just as uncomfortable.