Legolas crossed the bridge outside of the palace, ignoring the questioning looks from the guards. Little did they suspect that Legolas planned to come back that very night, using the cover of darkness. He would not leave Mirkwood without Estelwen.

He walked through the forest until he felt that he was far enough. Closing his eyes, he placed his hand against a tree and leaned his forehead against the bark. If he had asked, his father would have likely let Estelwen go. However, Legolas did not trust his emotions at the moment. His fingers curled into a fist. Why did he not set mother's spirit free? Does he not feel any regret? Legolas felt betrayed. And how could he have kept this from me for so long? Did I never have the right to know what happened to my own mother? If it were not for Estelwen's vision, Legolas would have never asked the dead about his mother. He would have never come to Mirkwood to discover that his mother's restless spirit still dwelt in these woods.

"Díheno nin (forgive me)," Legolas whispered. His mind was clouded with hurt, confusion, and anger. He did not know what to do. He neither moved nor opened his eyes. His mind became one with the silence of the forest. Cool air breezed against his skin, indicated that the sinking sun had set.

Leaves crunched several paces behind him. There was the unmistakable shing of elvish steel, followed by the slightest of gasps. Legolas opened his eyes. "I know you would never harm any of the elves." He turned around. "You have not the heart."

"Legolas..." Estelwen stared at him, dazed. She lowered her. "But how?"

Legolas moved until he was close enough to reach out and touch her. He longed to stroke her face, to hold her close, but he knew now was not the time. Something was still holding her back from accepting his love. Until he knew what it was, he would not make her feel insecure or pressured by his affections. He focused on her eyes, trying to read what she was thinking. "How did you escape? The guards would have never let you past them."

"Vines broke through the walls of my cell, allowing me passage outside of the palace walls. There is magic at work, a kind I have never...seen before." Estelwen could feel the pulse of magic in the air – gentle, persistent, and, in a certain way, familiar.

Legolas noticed her eyes turn sapphire blue. "Mani naa ta (what is it)?"

Estelwen's heartbeat raced. The pulse was no longer a feeling, but a voice calling her name. And without a doubt, she knew who it was. "Amariel."

Legolas realized who was at work. Wonder filled his voice. "She calls to you."

Estelwen slowly turned her gaze to him. "But how can it be? She has only spoken in my dreams, not like this."

"Her spirit has dwelt in this forest since the day she passed." Legolas turned his head, hearing movement in the forest. He gently intertwined his fingers with Estelwen's. "Come." He led her, careful not to crack a single twig on the forest ground. Not a single animal could be heard. There was only the night.

The wind blew softly around them, rustling the leaves that lay on the ground. Legolas stopped and closed his eyes, feeling a sense of peace, respect, and comfort in his heart. Without looking, he knew she was here. His mother.

Estelwen waited. One moment, there was nothing. The next, the elleth in her dreams stood in front of her. Amariel. As she walked towards Estelwen, her feet did not touch the ground. Her red hair billowed in the wind, wildly flaming in different directions. The long, silk dress she wore was mixed with green and brown hues that almost blended in with the dark forest around her. Though her face was beautiful, it held no joy. Her red lips were solemn, as if they had not smiled in years. Her blue eyes contained a faraway look, as if she saw much more than what was happening at the moment.

Neither spoke at first. Estelwen could sense the mutual bond of their natures: that they were both born from the earth and the light of the Valar. She could sense Amariel's frustration for waiting and wandering in the forest for hundreds of years. She could sense her energy and power. Most of all, she could sense Amariel's hatred for the darkness that threatened her home.

Amariel's blue eyes fixed upon Estelwen. "You are cursed. You are weary. Yet, are you willing to see you destiny through?"

Estelwen nodded, transfixed by the apparition. "Yes."

As soon as the words left her lips, images hurtled through her mind – the same ones that she saw long ago when she first looked into Galadriel's mirror. However, the Battles of Helm's Deep and Mordor were not shown – they had already come to pass.

Estelwen saw her vision's last battlefield, marked so by the men, horses, and orcs that lay dead on the ground. Just as in her first vision, the dark-haired man, whose face was covered, lay among the dead. Only this time, there was an air of familiarity about him.

Everything disappeared in a flash. Estelwen staggered back with a gasp. Before she fell, Legolas caught her, asking what had happened. He had only seen the wind.

Estelwen reached out to Amariel's fading image. "Wait! I had failed to convince the king to help. What must I do?"

As she continued to fade, Amariel raised her head. "Go to where you are called. You have given me the hope to do what I must. And I will wander no more!" The wind picked up again, sweeping through the last traces of Amariel's image. Leaves and twigs whipped about in a violent gust of wind.

Estelwen covered her head with her hands. Legolas closed his eyes and held her against his chest. Then, all was silent.

Legolas lowered his arms. "What did she tell you?"

"She sends us into the heart of the war. And I," Estelwen let out a shaky breath. "I am to prevent a slaughter that is to come. Legolas, Frodo will never make it alive to Mount Doom unless I draw Anorath away from his post."

"Do you feel strong enough to face him?"

"I do not care what becomes of me. If I d-"

"Estelwen!"

Estelwen fell silent. Legolas had never sounded so rebuking.

"You once told me that if the time came for you to face him, you would welcome my aid. You will not face Anorath alone. I will be with you."

Estelwen could feel the iron of his resolve. "Then let us join the others."

Legolas lifted his head towards his left. "Look."

Shadowfax stood amidst the trees, watching the two. It had responded to Amariel's call. Without effort, Legolas leapt onto the white horse's back. He held out his hand. Estelwen grabbed it and swung her left leg over Shadowfax.

Once out of the Mirkwood forest, Estelwen looked up to the night sky, which was just beginning to lighten.

The sun was soon to rise.

­­­­­­*****

Thranduil reached out and touched the table next to the throne. It appeared as a casual gesture, but only he knew that it was to steady himself. He had learned to hide his troubles, his worries, and most of his feelings from others. They did not need to share in his problems. They did not need to see what was supposed to have been buried deep and locked away forever.

Amariel had remained silent for thousands of years. Thranduil could take the silence, but he could not take the fact that he knew why she was silent, why she had never forgiven him.

Thranduil tried to close up his heart, to focus on the matter at hand, but he could not. He clenched his hands and closed his eyes. "I know you never care to speak to me again. You may believe that I deserve so, since I have failed in all."

A voice drifted past his ears. Not yet, not in everything.

Thranduil's eyes snapped open.

The palace gates burst open, followed by the sound of wind through the palace. A few fall-colored leaves scattered along some of the stairs.

Thranduil ran, knocking over the small table as he started. He bolted past the guards and their urgent calls and questioning eyes. His heart beat quickly in his chest as worries filled his mind. But none of it mattered.

Once outside, he scanned his surroundings. Some of the guards approached him from behind, their stances ready and alert. Thranduil raised his hand. "Remain here." He ventured on alone. As he walked, he noticed the thin, golden rays of sunlight that had filtered through the trees in certain areas. He was aware of the slight twittering of a handful of birds. He could feel a warmth in the air that he had not felt in a long time. He allowed the feeling to sink into his soul. Life had touched this area of the forest.

There was a crackle, and Thranduil looked up. His lips parted in awe. Between two trees was a white stag. It stood still, the breeze brushing through its snow-white fur. It black eyes did not blink as they fixed themselves on the king.

Thranduil almost took a step back. It was rare to see a white stag, but it was impossible to chance upon one by accident. Thranduil looked over the magnificent creature. This was not a wandering youngling. Judging by the muscle and stature, this stag was almost past its prime. It should have settled down years ago, not wander into new areas, not unless...it had been summoned.

The stag bowed it head, its antlers pointing at Thranduil. Thranduil walked up to it slowly, knowing that it would have no qualms killing what it deemed as a threat. But this was not about safety – it was about trust.

Thranduil reached out his hand and brushed past the antlers to rest it upon the stag's brow. A slight tremor shot through the stag. A mark was made. Now, it was ready to serve.

Thranduil knew deep within that there could have been only one purpose for Amariel calling the stag to him.

Thranduil turned toward the palace and called Ionor's name. Ionor came quickly. The sight of his king with the white stag rendered him speechless.

"Ready him." Thranduil gestured towards the white stag.

Ionor sensed a difference in the king's tone. What caused this change? The whole room was brimming with energy. Or rather, who caused this? Is it even possible that the earthborn's words affected the king? Ionor crossed his arm over his chest. "Shall I ready the elves as well?"

Thranduil nodded. "Make haste."