"Greetings, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," Aragorn said, bowing respectfully as he welcomed the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien at the Castle's main entrance. "Welcome to Minas Tirith."

The Elven couple descended gracefully from their horses, their ethereal presence drawing the eyes of all gathered. Galadriel's gaze, as piercing as it was kind, met Aragorn's, and she offered him a gentle smile.

"Thank you, King Elessar," Galadriel replied, her voice soft and melodic. "It is good to see you again, though I had hoped it would be under happier circumstances. I sense a shadow upon your heart."

Aragorn's expression tightened slightly. After last night's discovery, sleep had eluded him, his mind consumed with worry for Legolas' safety.

"Indeed," he admitted, casting a quick glance at Glorfindel, who stood nearby. "There are matters that trouble me, my Lady, and I hope your wisdom might offer some clarity."

Galadriel nodded, understanding the unspoken plea. "Let us speak inside, where we can discuss what weighs on your mind."

Aragorn led the way into the Castle, flanked by his Elven guests and trusted advisors. Though the sun shone brightly over Minas Tirith, a sense of foreboding seemed to linger as if the city was bracing for what was to come.

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Inside Aragorn's office, Celeborn and Galadriel sat quietly, listening intently as Aragorn, joined by Elrond, Glorfindel, Gandalf, and King Thranduil, summarized the troubling events that had unfolded since his and Legolas' arrival at the White City.

"This is the arrow we found embedded in Ravonor's body," Aragorn said, presenting the evidence to the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien. "I strongly believe that at least one of Haldir's brothers is involved in all this."

Celeborn examined the arrow carefully before he sighed deeply while Galadriel's expression grew thoughtful.

"Where is Legolas now?" Celeborn asked.

"He's on a trip to Ithilien," Aragorn replied. "Lord Glorfindel advised that being in the wilds would offer the best chance to capture any Elf trying to harm Legolas. This trip is a bait to sniff out the Elf. I was supposed to leave with him, but after the incident at the White Tree, I couldn't leave the city." He then turned to Galadriel. "Lady Galadriel, is there a way to uncover the whereabouts of Haldir's brothers? To know whether they have left these shores or not?"

Galadriel took a deep breath, her gaze meeting Aragorn's with calm assurance. "I can try," she said.

"But Galadriel—" Celeborn exclaimed, alarm evident in his voice. But she placed a comforting hand on her husband's arm, smiling reassuringly.

"It will be alright, Herven (Husband)," she assured him.

"Is something the matter, my Lady?" Aragorn asked, concern lacing his words.

"There is nothing to fear, King Elessar," Galadriel assured him, though her tone carried the weight of the unknown. "However, you should know that since the destruction of the One Ring, my powers have weakened considerably. I may not be able to tell you much."

"If there is a risk to your life, then—" Aragorn began, but Galadriel gently cut him off with a raised hand.

"There is no risk, Son of Arathorn," she said, rising from her seat with graceful determination. "I will try my best to answer your questions."

She glanced at her husband, and Celeborn nodded in response before summoning an Elven servant, who soon returned with another, carrying a water-filled white basin.

Galadriel closed her eyes as she concentrated, her hand hovering barely an inch over the water's surface. The ring on her finger glowed with soft white light. Opening her eyes, she gently touched the water's surface with one finger, and suddenly, she gasped, her body swaying as cold sweat trickled down her perfect brow.

"Galadriel!" "My Lady!" all present exclaimed in unison.

"Darkness," she whispered, looking at Aragorn with eyes clouded with fear as she leaned on her husband. "His heart blackened, and his hands tainted with Elven blood. He has lost his Elven Light."

"Who?" Aragorn asked, a sense of dread creeping over him.

"Orophin," Galadriel replied solemnly.

Aragorn exchanged shocked looks with the others. Unlike Rúmil, Orophin had always been meek and reserved, known for his quiet, compliant nature. The revelation stunned those gathered in Aragorn's office, as the image of Orophin—the silent, introspective Elf—did not align with the darkness Galadriel had just described.

"Orophin?" Elrond repeated, disbelief lacing his voice. "He was always the least likely among Haldir's brothers to rebel and cause trouble."

Galadriel, still visibly shaken from her vision, nodded slowly.

"A shadow of grief, desire, and rage has consumed him. He blames Legolas for losing his brothers, twisting his sorrow into hatred."

"Losing his brothers?" Aragorn asked, his mind racing.

"Rúmil is no longer in this world," Galadriel said. "He died in an Orc ambush...on his way here." She added, pointedly looking at Aragorn.

"But how could he fall so far? The Elven Light is not easily lost," Thranduil commented, his eyes narrowing, his voice a mix of anger and sorrow.

"The poison of vengeance has tainted his spirit," Galadriel replied, her tone heavy with the wisdom of ages. "Grief and desire can twist even the purest hearts if left unchecked."

Aragorn, his mind racing with the implications of this revelation, looked at Galadriel with renewed urgency.

"If Orophin is as you describe, my Lady, then Legolas is in grave danger." Glorfindel, who had been silent until now, spoke. "We must find him before Orophin strikes again."

"Time is of the essence, indeed," Galadriel said, regaining some of her composure. "Orophin's heart is corrupted, and he will stop at nothing to fulfil his vengeance. We must protect Legolas."

Aragorn nodded, determination hardening his features.

"We leave now," he said, looking at Glorfindel. "We cannot afford to wait any longer. Do you still wish to join me, Lord Glorfindel?"

"Of course."

"I will go with you," Celeborn said, his voice still deeply troubled. "Orophin was once an outstanding Elf, and I must try to save him if any part of him can be saved."

"He cannot be saved," Galadriel said sorrowfully, shaking her head. "The darkness has consumed his heart completely."

The Elves looked at her with shock as the room fell into a sombre silence. It was almost unheard of for an Elf to be consumed by darkness to the point of losing his Elven Light. The weight of Galadriel's words settled heavily on everyone present. The notion of an Elf losing their Light, their very essence, and being consumed by such darkness was a fate almost too grim to bear. Meanwhile, Aragorn's resolve only strengthened. He knew the path ahead would be perilous but could not rest until his husband was safe from the darkness that now pursued him.

"I must be on my way to my husband," he said, standing up. "Lord Glorfindel, Lord Celeborn, I will meet you at the Castle entrance."

As the others began to disperse to conduct their tasks, Aragorn remained with Galadriel for a moment longer.

"Thank you, Lady Galadriel," he said quietly. "Your wisdom has given us the direction we desperately needed."

Galadriel offered a faint smile, though her eyes remained distant, still haunted by the vision she had seen.

"May the Valar guide your steps, King Elessar. The road ahead is dark, but you do not have to walk it alone."

With that, Aragorn left the room, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the threat that loomed over them, but his spirit unwavering in its resolve to protect those he loved.

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Aragorn donned his ranger's attire, fastening Andúril securely around his waist and tucking a small dagger into his left boot and another on his right arm. He picked up his travel satchel and carefully checked its contents, mentally listing the items he would need for the journey. He had already ensured his horse was prepared with the necessary provisions, including food, water, and other essentials. He would order whatever was missing from his satchel on his way out.

Once everything was accounted for, Aragorn retrieved his cloak, fastening it around his shoulders with his ranger's pin. He slung the satchel over his shoulder, giving himself a final glance in the mirror. It had been long since he had travelled in this manner—alone, without the royal guards, clad in his rugged ranger's garb—and he couldn't suppress the familiar excitement of the road and adventure ahead stirred within him.

/I'm coming to you, Legolas, he vowed silently. Please be safe!/

With determination etched into his features, he strode out of the room.

In the living quarters of his chambers, he found Celeborn, Elrond, Herumacil, Rhircyn, Hathron, and Gondren, Captain of the Army, waiting for him.

"My Lord," Aragorn addressed Celeborn, noticing his lack of readiness. "You're not prepared."

"I've decided not to accompany you," the Lord of Lothlórien replied. "Galadriel is convinced that my presence will not alter the course of events. All I ask is that you do not take Orophin's life. Perhaps there is still a chance that Galadriel can save him if any part of him remains."

Aragorn nodded solemnly.

"I promise we will not kill him, and if Lady Galadriel believes there is hope, she will do all in her power to save him." He then turned to the Guard, Army, and Rangers Captains. "The city and Castle are in your hands now. I trust you to protect them with your lives."

"It will be our honour, my King," Rhircyn responded. "The city will be safe under our care."

"My Lord," Hathron interjected, "Would it not be wise to take some of the Rangers with you? There could be dangers along the way."

"You needn't worry, Hathron," Aragorn replied reassuringly. "I have Lord Glorfindel with me. Nothing will harm me while he is by my side, and we'll surely meet the Ithilien Rangers on our way. Besides, Rhircyn and Gondren may need every available man here."

The three Captains nodded, understanding their new mission. Protecting the King was no longer their priority; their duty was now to safeguard Minas Tirith and its inhabitants in his absence.

"Lord Herumacil," Aragorn said, addressing the young Lord, "You will oversee the city's affairs in my absence. I entrust everything to you. If in doubt, ask Lord Elrond. He will be a great help to you."

"I will do my best, my King," Herumacil vowed solemnly.

"Lord Bonirun, Lord Mortardur, and Lord Addrimyr are to be placed under house arrest," Aragorn instructed. "I know what you're going to say, Lord Herumacil," he added, cutting off the young Lord before he could protest. "Lord Elrond will explain the evidence we gathered against Lord Bonirun and Lord Mortardur. As for Lord Addrimyr, while I lack solid proof against him, he was the Chamberlain when the two lords' servants joined the Castle's staff and when Legolas was poisoned. I cannot overlook the possibility of his involvement."

"As you command, my Lord," Herumacil said.

"No one is to enter or leave their homes during the house arrest. Is that clear, Herumacil?" Aragorn added.

"Perfectly," Herumacil affirmed.

Aragorn looked at the group with a sad smile.

"I trust your judgment and abilities in keeping the city safe until my return."

He then turned to Elrond, and the two shared a silent understanding.

"Be safe, son," the Elven lord said, placing a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "We will await your safe return, both yours and Legolas'."

Aragorn placed his hand over Elrond's, gratitude in his eyes, before he left and headed to the Castle entrance, where Glorfindel and King Thranduil were waiting.

"Be safe, Elessar," Thranduil said tightly.

"We will, my Lord," Aragorn assured him, inclining his head. I will bring him home safely."

"I know you will. That's why I've entrusted his safety to you."

Aragorn nodded gravely before mounting his horse and exchanging a determined look with Glorfindel.

"We must find them before it's too late," Glorfindel said.

"Agreed."

Without further delay, they left Minas Tirith.

/Hold on, Legolas. I'm on my way!/

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The company travelling to Emyn Arnen rode leisurely through the forest that lined the path to the city. Faramir had insisted on moving with the first light of dawn to make up for the time lost in previous days. Yet, managing a party that included three Ladies, four energetic Hobbits, and a child proved more challenging than he had expected. Nonetheless, as long as nothing unexpected occurred, he was content.

Faramir led the company, flanked by two Rangers. In the middle rode Legolas, Mallorn, Elrohir, and Gimli, with four Rangers providing additional security. Behind them, Gwîneth, Éowyn, and the Hobbits brought up the procession, their lively chatter and laughter filling the air. At the rear, Imrahil, Éomer, and two more Rangers guarded the company. Lothíriel, with her nephew nestled securely in her arms, rode between her father and Éomer, engaging in friendly conversation with the King of Rohan. Ten Ithilien Rangers trailed them from a safe distance.

The forest around them was serene, the morning light filtering through the canopy and casting dappled shadows on the path. Birds chirped merrily, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Despite the tranquil setting, Faramir remained vigilant, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, ready to react if necessary.

Legolas rode beside Mallorn, his eyes occasionally glancing at his unusually silent brother. Since yesterday, Mallorn had been unusually cold towards him, brooding and quiet most of the time, his gaze locked somewhere distant, leaving Legolas wondering if he had done something wrong. Elrohir seemed aware of the reason behind Mallorn's cold attitude but kept it to himself.

Legolas shook his head, trying to focus on the beauty surrounding him, assuring himself that whatever was bothering Mallorn would be resolved in time. If not, he would confront his brother once they reached Emyn Arnen. He tuned his keen Elven senses to the sounds of nature around him and the merry laughter of the Hobbits. Sitting comfortably atop his sturdy pony, Gimli grumbled good-naturedly about the long ride but secretly enjoyed the forest's camaraderie and beauty.

Suddenly, as they passed a dense group of trees, the Elves felt their bodies stiffen with alarm.

"ORCS!" they yelled in unison.

Faramir immediately halted and whistled sharply, a signal that summoned the Ithilien Rangers from their positions. The Rangers quickly moved into formation, their faces set in grim determination. The peaceful journey had turned perilous in an instant.

"We need to move the Hobbits, the Ladies, and the child to safety immediately," Faramir turned to the group, his voice firm. "Imrahil, Éomer, I need you to lead them away from the battle. Ride straight to Emyn Arnen, and don't stop for any reason."

"We're not leaving!" Merry protested, gripping his sword. "We can fight just as well as any of you!" The rest of the Hobbits agreed.

"Nor will I," Éowyn declared, her hand on the hilt of her blade. "I am no stranger to battle, Faramir."

"I'm staying as well," Gwîneth added, her voice calm but resolute.

"This is not a discussion," Faramir said firmly, shaking his head. "You must go now! The Orcs are coming fast, and we cannot risk your safety."

"You too, Legolas. It would be best if you left with them," Mallorn, who had been silent until now, turned to Legolas, his tone firm.

Legolas met his brother's gaze, his expression unyielding.

"No, Mallorn. I am not leaving."

"My Lord, Prince Mallorn is right," Faramir interjected gently. "You should leave with the others. Your safety is—"

"Faramir," Legolas interrupted, his voice steady and authoritative. "I am the Prince Consort of Gondor and hold the same authority as Aragorn. You do not have the right to order me away."

Mallorn's eyes narrowed, his concern evident.

"Your rank does not matter in this, Legolas," he snapped. "You are my younger brother, and I will not see you put yourself in unnecessary danger."

"I am not leaving," Legolas repeated, his voice unwavering as he locked eyes with Mallorn. "I am more than capable of defending myself and will not abandon our companions."

Faramir, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward.

"Legolas, please—"

"No, Faramir," Legolas cut him off, his tone firm. "I appreciate your concern, but I will not be treated as if I am helpless. I will fight beside you."

Before any more words could be exchanged, the first wave of Orcs broke through the tree line, their guttural cries echoing through the forest. There was no time for further argument.

"Move out!" Faramir commanded, and the group sprang into action.

Éomer and Imrahil quickly ushered Lothíriel, Alphros, the reluctant Hobbits, and the two Ladies away, flanked by half the Rangers.

Éowyn and Gwîneth hesitated, casting glances back at the battle forming behind them, but Éomer's firm grip on his sister's arm and Imrahil's guiding hand on Gwîneth kept them moving forward. As the remaining fighters prepared for battle, Legolas, Mallorn, Elrohir, and Gimli took their positions at the forefront, with Faramir leading the remaining Rangers. The air was thick with tension, the sounds of the approaching Orcs growing louder with each passing moment.

Legolas's keen eyes caught sight of the Orc leader, a hulking figure directing the others. Without hesitation, he notched an arrow and let it fly, striking the creature down before it could reach them. But the Orcs hoard didn't stop. They were relentless, their numbers seeming to grow as they surged forward.

The battle was fierce and chaotic.

Legolas moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior, his arrows finding their mark with deadly accuracy. Beside him, Mallorn and Elrohir fought with equal ferocity, their Elven blades cutting through the ranks of Orcs with swift, lethal strokes. Gimli, with his axe in hand, stood firm at their side, felling any Orc that dared come too close.

Despite their skill, the sheer number of enemies began to push them back. Faramir called out orders, trying to keep the line intact, but it was clear that they were being overwhelmed.

Amid the chaos, Legolas found himself gradually separated from the leading group. He continued to fight bravely, unaware of how far he had been pushed away. The trees around him thickened, and the sounds of battle grew fainter as he pursued a group of retreating Orcs, determined to prevent them from flanking the others.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Legolas caught a flash of movement. He turned just in time to see an arrow streaking toward him. Reacting quickly, he twisted his body, but not fast enough. The arrow struck his arm, its tip embedding itself in his flesh. Legolas yanked the arrow out, grimacing at the pain, but almost immediately, he felt a strange numbness spreading from the wound. His vision blurred, and his limbs grew heavy. He stumbled, trying to steady himself, but the powerful drug coursing through his veins was too potent. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was a shadowy figure emerging from the trees, moving toward him with purpose.

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The remaining fighters were unaware of Legolas's fate. Shadow had been watching the battle from afar and followed the Prince with calculated precision, taking advantage of the confusion to capture his prize. When the time was tripe, he notched his arrow and aimed. By the time the others realized that Legolas was missing, he was already being carried away into the forest's depths.

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Back at the battle, Gimli noticed his friend's absence and called out, "Legolas! Where are you, Elf?"

"WHAT?" Mallorn exclaimed as he turned around, finally noticing his brother's absence. "Legolas! Where are you?"

Suddenly, the reality of the situation became clear. Legolas was missing from the battlefield. Panic surged through Mallorn as he scanned the surrounding trees, his heart pounding with fear and anger.

"Dispatch the Orcs quickly and search for His Highness!" Faramir ordered his men.

The urgency in Faramir's voice galvanized the remaining Rangers into action. Already fighting fiercely, the group redoubled their efforts, cutting through the Orcs with renewed vigour. The clash of steel against steel and the guttural cries of the Orcs filled the air as the Rangers fought with the desperation of those who knew time was running out.

Mallorn, his heart gripped with fear for his brother, fought with a ferocity that belied his usual calm demeanour. His sword moved with lethal precision, cutting down any Orc that dared to cross his path. Elrohir was fighting close by, his movements equally swift and deadly. Their shared worry for Legolas pushed them to fight harder. Gimli, despite his concern for Legolas, focused on the immediate threat, swinging his battle axe with brutal efficiency.

"We'll find him, lad," he grunted to Mallorn between heavy swings, "but we need to clear these beasts first!"

The company fought as one, and their synchronized movements were a testament to their years of experience and shared bond. Slowly but surely, the tide began to turn in their favour as the last of the Orcs fell under their combined might. As the final Orc collapsed, the forest fell silent again, save for the warriors' heavy breathing.

Faramir sheathed his sword, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees. The urgency in his gaze was mirrored by all present.

"Spread out!" he commanded. "Find Prince Legolas immediately. He can't have gone far."

The Rangers, Mallorn, Elrohir, and Gimli immediately set to work, fanning out in all directions. Mallorn moved with a singular focus, his heart hammering in his chest as he called out for his brother.

"Legolas! Where are you?" he called.

But there was no answer. The forest, once alive with the sounds of battle, now seemed eerily quiet. Mallorn's breath quickened as he searched the underbrush, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Elrohir and Gimli moved with equal urgency, their eyes scanning the ground for any sign of a struggle or a trail that might lead them to Legolas. The minutes felt like hours as they searched, the tension in the air growing thicker with each passing moment.

Finally, it was Faramir who found the first sign of Legolas—his knives, bow, and arrows lying on the forest floor among a few scattered Orc corpses. The sight of Legolas' weapons sent Faramir a cold wave of dread. He knelt, picking them up, their blades still slick with dark Orc blood. He scanned the area, his heart pounding as he searched for any further clues.

"Over here!" Faramir called out, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

Mallorn, Elrohir, Gimli, and the Rangers quickly gathered around, their eyes immediately falling on the discarded weapons and the gruesome scene before them. Mallorn's breath hitched as he saw his brother's weapons in Faramir's hands, clearly indicating something was terribly wrong. His mind raced, the fear for Legolas' safety growing stronger with each passing second.

"This isn't right," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "He wouldn't have just left his weapons like this. Where did you find Legolas' weapons?"

"They were laying over here," Faramir replied.

"Do you think those foul creatures have taken him?" Gimli asked, clenching his jaw and tightening his grip on the handle of his axe.

"It appears so," Mallorn said, trying to suppress the fear he was feeling for his little brother.

Elrohir's sharp Elven eyes scanned the area for more clues. He noticed an arrow that looked different than the Orcs' arrows lying on the grass. He picked it up, smelling a distinct odour coming from the tip. He neared the tip to his nose and grimaced at the foul smell.

"This arrow," he said, holding it up for the others to see, "is a Lothlórien arrow coated with a drug. I recognize the scent. It's a potent sleep-inducing agent."

Mallorn's eyes widened in alarm.

"Then, Legolas has been taken," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and anger. "Whoever took him wanted him alive."

Faramir's expression hardened with determination.

"We need to follow the trail. They can't have gone far."

"If it's one of Haldir's brothers who took him," Elrohir said gravely, "We'll not find any trail! The Elves of Lothlórien are masters of stealth. They can move through the forest without leaving a trace."

Mallorn's heart pounded with fear and frustration.

"Then what do we do?" he demanded, his voice edged with desperation. "We can't just let them take him!"

Gimli, his face set in grim lines, stepped forward. "We'll have to rely on more than just tracking skills. Lord Elrohir, can you sense anything else?"

"I can try," Elrohir said. "There may be subtle signs or disturbances that only an Elf or a skilled Ranger could detect."

"Spread out and search the area. Look for anything unusual—a broken branch, disturbed leaves, anything that might give us a clue," Faramir turned to the Rangers.

The Rangers fanned out, moving through the forest with practiced ease. Their eyes scanned every inch of the terrain for any sign that might lead them to where Legolas had been taken.

"Where would Haldir's brother take Legolas?" Mallorn wondered, trying to calm the wave of panic that threatened to overwhelm him.

"I don't know," Elrohir said. "But I'm starting to wonder if the Orc attack was directed to force Legolas away from us so he could kidnap him."

"You mean an Elf is in alliance with Orcs?" Mallorn exclaimed. "That's outrageous!"

Elrohir's expression darkened as he considered Mallorn's words.

"It's hard to believe, but it's not impossible," he said. "We don't have solid evidence yet, but we can't ignore the possibility."

Gimli let out a low growl, his grip tightening on his axe.

"We can't waste time debating this," he rumbled. "If Legolas is in danger, we need to move now."

Elrohir closed his eyes, focusing on the forest around him. He extended his senses, searching for any disturbances in the natural energy flow. After a moment, he opened his eyes and pointed eastward.

"There's a subtle trail. A scent. It's faint, but it's there. We need to move quickly."

The group set off, following Elrohir's lead. They moved swiftly and silently through the forest, their senses heightened and their weapons ready. The trail was faint, but Elrohir's keen senses kept them on track.

As they pressed on, Mallorn's mind raced with worry for his brother. The thought of Legolas being captured and possibly harmed filled him with a deep sense of dread. He pushed himself to move faster, his heart pounding with fear and frustration.

Though focused on the task at hand, Faramir kept glancing at Mallorn, sensing the growing tension in the Elf.

"We'll find him," he said quietly, hoping to offer some reassurance. "Legolas is strong. He won't go down without a fight."

Mallorn nodded, but the worry in his eyes remained.

They continued to follow the faint trail, the forest growing darker and denser as they went. The silence around them was heavy, and every sound seemed amplified in the stillness. After what felt like an eternity, they reached a clearing where the trail abruptly ended. Elrohir halted, trying to pick up anything that might lead them.

"The trail ends here," he said, frustration evident in his voice.

"What now?" Gimli said.

A heavy silence reigned over them.

"We must return to Emyn Arnen," Faramir said at last.

"I'm not leaving my brother!" Mallorn yelled.

"We're not leaving him!" Faramir explained. "We must reach Emyn Arnen and assemble enough troops to search for Prince Legolas. If he was taken to an Orc nest somewhere, we must have enough men to cover the area more effectively."

Faramir's words were met with a tense silence as the group absorbed the gravity of the situation. Mallorn's chest heaved with emotion, torn between the fear for his brother and the logic in Faramir's plan. Elrohir placed a reassuring hand on Mallorn's shoulder.

"Faramir is right, Meleth," Elrohir said softly. "We need to be smart about this. Rushing in without a plan or enough support could put Legolas in even greater danger."

Mallorn clenched his fists, struggling to contain his frustration. The thought of leaving the area, even temporarily, felt like abandoning his brother. But he knew, deep down, that Elrohir and Faramir were right. They needed to regroup, gather reinforcements, and plan their next move carefully.

Gimli, ever practical, gave a solemn nod.

"Aye, we'll find him, but we need more eyes and swords. Let's move swiftly to Emyn Arnen, gather what we need, and then set out again."

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Aragorn and Glorfindel rode with unrelenting urgency, their horses galloping at full speed across the landscape. The wind whipped through Aragorn's hair, and the pounding of hooves echoed in his ears, but the only sound that genuinely registered was the thudding of his heart, driven by a growing sense of dread. The path to Osgiliath was familiar, one Aragorn had traversed many times before but never with such urgency. The distance that generally took a day felt endless now—the minutes dragged into what seemed like hours. Aragorn's mind raced, his thoughts locked on the bond he shared with Legolas.

When he first felt the sharp pain in his arm, it startled him. The sensation was not his own but came through the connection with his husband. It was a warning, a cry for help that aggravated his heart, pushing him to ride even faster. However, the pain suddenly disappeared as if Legolas had lost consciousness, making Aragorn's fear rise tenfold.

Glorfindel noticed the change in Aragorn's demeanour. The Elf Lord's eyes, usually calm and observant, now flickered with concern. He knew Aragorn well enough to recognize the signs of fear and worry etched across his features, but he also understood that there were no words to ease the King's mind at this moment. They had to reach the outpost, and they had to reach it quickly.

The sun had moved from its zenith and descended toward the west, casting long shadows across the land. The golden light bathed the riders and their mounts but did little to chase away the cold grip of fear that held Aragorn. As they neared the outpost, the sense of urgency only intensified. The familiar stone walls of the outpost came into view, a sight that brought no relief but a sharper edge of anxiety.

"I'm King Elessar," Aragorn yelled as he halted his horse in front of the closed gates. "Open the gate!"

The gates of the outpost creaked open in response to Aragorn's command, the guards recognizing their King and the urgency in his voice and the authority he wielded. Aragorn and Glorfindel rode through the entrance, their horses' hooves clattering on the cobblestones as they entered the courtyard. Soldiers and sentries snapped to attention, their faces reflecting a mixture of surprise and concern at the King's sudden arrival. Aragorn dismounted swiftly, not waiting for assistance, his movements driven by the fear filling his heart. Glorfindel followed suit, his eyes scanning the surroundings, taking in the soldiers' mood and the activity within the outpost. The outpost Captain rushed to them.

"My King, what brings you to the outpost? Is something amiss?" he asked.

"Where is Faramir's company that passed through here earlier?" Aragorn asked, wasting no time with pleasantries. "How long ago did they leave?"

"They left just after dawn, my Lord, heading towards Emyn Arnen," the Captain quickly responded, sensing the gravity of the situation. "They seemed in good spirits, no signs of trouble."

Aragorn frowned, his concern deepening.

"Didn't they receive my message?"

"What message, my Lord?" The Captain asked, puzzled.

Aragorn's heart sank, his eyes narrowing as he tried to suppress the rising fear.

"I sent a message warning Faramir of potential danger."

"No such message was received, My Liege," the Captain said. "But Lord Faramir took ten extra Ithilien Rangers with him," he reassured.

"How far ahead do you estimate they are?" Aragorn asked.

"Given their travel pace, they've got about a three—or four-hour lead," the Captain replied.

Aragorn's heart sank further. They were still hours behind.

Glorfindel, always the voice of reason and calm amid chaos, placed a reassuring hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

"We can still reach them, Aragorn. We will find them in time if they've encountered any trouble."

Aragorn nodded, though his anxiety was palpable. The memory of the pain in his arm was a constant reminder that Legolas was in danger, and the fear of what might have befallen him tampered with his resolve.

"We must not delay," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his worry.

"My Lord, do you need soldiers?" the Captain asked. "I can assemble a company to accompany you and provide support."

Aragorn shook his head, his focus unwavering.

"No, we cannot afford the time it would take to assemble a company. Speed is our only advantage now. But ensure the outpost is prepared in case we need reinforcements later."

The Captain saluted sharply, understanding the gravity of the situation.

"As you command, my Lord. Safe travels, and may the Valar guide your path," he said.

With a quick nod, Aragorn mounted one of the new horses a soldier had provided, and Glorfindel followed suit. They spurred their horses forward, the gates clanging shut behind them as they left the outpost in a whirlwind of dust and urgency.

The landscape blurred around them as they pushed their steeds to the limit, Aragorn's determination to reach Legolas guiding them like an invisible thread through the dense forest.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a fiery glow across the horizon, but the scene's beauty was lost on Aragorn. His mind was solely on reaching Legolas, on closing the gap that separated them before it was too late. Glorfindel rode beside him, a silent pillar of strength and support, his eyes scanning the terrain for any signs of the company ahead or trouble on the horizon.

As Aragorn and Glorfindel galloped through the dense forest, the shadows lengthening with the approaching evening, they were suddenly met with a scene that made them gasp in shock. The trees opened into a small clearing, and before them lay the aftermath of a fierce battle. The ground was littered with the bodies of Orcs, their black blood staining the earth. The air was thick with the stench of death and the lingering tension of a fight just ended. The silence was heavy, broken only by the distant cawing of crows circling above, drawn to the carnage.

Aragorn's heart skipped a beat as his eyes quickly scanned the scene. The remnants of the company's passage were evident, but there was no sign of the living—only the fallen. Glorfindel, ever the composed warrior, was already dismounting, his sharp eyes taking in the scene with grim efficiency, looking for possible dead bodies of their friends. Luckily, there were none.

"This was recent," he said quietly. "The battle could not have been long ago."

Aragorn dismounted, his heart racing as he moved quickly through the clearing, searching for any sign of his husband.

Aragorn felt a cold sweat break out on his brow.

"We have to find them," he said, his voice hardening with resolve. "They can't be far."

Glorfindel nodded, his hand resting reassuringly on Aragorn's shoulder briefly, though his expression mirrored Aragorn's urgency before they mounted their horses again.

"We must hurry to Emyn Arnen," he said, gaining a nod from Aragorn before they spurred their horses into action.

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When Faramir and his party reached Emyn Arnen, they found the rest had made it safely. The sight of the city brought a wave of relief to those who had been part of the journey. But their relief was overshadowed by the loss of the Elven prince who had been with them only hours before.

Mallorn was distraught, his usually composed demeanour shattered by the weight of grief and worry. Elrohir, who had been a steady presence by Mallorn's side through the journey, placed a hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. He knew that Mallorn was taking Legolas' kidnapping very badly. He could see how his blond lover was struggling to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Mallorn dismounted quickly, his eyes scanning the faces of their friends who came to greet them back, unable to answer their questioning gazes.

"Where is Legolas?" Gwîneth was the first to ask, her voice trembling with concern as she approached them, her eyes searching into their faces for answers.

Mallorn's throat tightened, and he found himself unable to speak, the pain of their loss too fresh and raw. Elrohir, sensing his distress, stepped forward.

"He was taken," Elrohir said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart. "In the middle of the chaos, Legolas was separated from us. We didn't realize he was gone until it was too late. We believe he was captured."

"By whom? Orcs?"

"That's one possibility," Elrohir replied.

"And you left him?" Gwîneth snapped at Mallorn, her voice trembling with anger and fear.

Mallorn flinched at her words, the sting of guilt hitting him hard.

"We came to gather more men to search the grounds," Elrohir rushed to his lover's rescue. "We'll return in the morning to search for him!"

"How could you leave him and return?" Gwîneth demanded, turning to Faramir, her voice filled with anger. "He's your Liege!"

Faramir resisted the urge to flinch at the Elleth's fiery glare, his expression sombre.

"We believe it was orchestrated by someone skilled in stealth," he explained. "We need men to help us look for him."

Gwîneth's face paled, her anger flaring anew.

"But you left him behind to come here!" she accused, her voice rising. "We should be out there looking for him!"

"We need more men to conduct a thorough search," Faramir repeated, trying to remain calm and get through to the angry Elleth. "Rushing back without a plan would put everyone at risk, including Legolas."

Mallorn stepped forward, his guilt evident in his eyes.

"I know I failed him, but we will find him," he said, his voice unwavering. "We need to regroup and gather more forces."

Gwîneth shook her head, her frustration and fear overwhelming her.

"We can't just sit here and wait," she insisted. "Every moment we delay could mean—"

"Gwîneth," Elrohir interrupted gently, reassuringly touching her shoulder. "We all want to find him as quickly as possible. But we must be smart about this. We need a larger group to cover more ground and ensure we don't fall into another trap. These areas are swarming with Orcs...especially at night."

She looked between them, her emotions warring with her reason. Finally, she nodded reluctantly, her shoulders sagging.

"I promise you, Gwîneth," Mallorn said, his voice steady. "I will not leave my brother out there. We'll leave with as many men as we can gather at first light. We'll find him. We won't rest until he's back."

Gwîneth stood silently, her mind racing with worry for Legolas, before she nodded, taking comfort in his words.

"He has to be safe," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "He just has to be."

Mallorn watched her, his resolve hardening. He would not fail his brother again. They would find Legolas and bring him back safely, no matter what it took.

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Aragorn and Glorfindel reached the city close to midnight. As they entered through the gate, Faramir, Mallorn, and Elrohir met them, their faces reflecting the heavy tension and worry in the air. The first thing that caught Aragorn's gaze was the sombreness on the Elves' features, starkly contrasting their usual composed demeanour.

"What happened?" Aragorn demanded, his voice edging with the fear gnawing at him during the ride.

"Legolas was kidnapped," Mallorn said gravely, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What? How?" Aragorn gasped in horror, dismounting in one fluid movement. "How was this allowed to happen?" he growled at Faramir, his eyes narrowing as anger began to surge through him.

"Orcs attacked us," Faramir explained, his voice steady but laced with guilt. "He got separated from us without us noticing. When we realized his absence, we followed the Orc trail and found his discarded weapons."

Aragorn listened to the account in shock, the fear that had been biting at his heart now mixing with the anger rising in him. His mind raced, piecing together the implications of what Faramir had said. The thought of Legolas in the hands of their enemy sent a cold chill down his spine. But if it was Orophin who took him, where would he take Legolas?

He surely wouldn't keep him in a place where rogue Orcs roam...

"Pelargir port," he hissed, recalling the details of Mortardur's letter. "We need to check it as soon as possible! Faramir," he looked at the man. "Gather some men. I want them ready by dawn!"

"What? Aragorn, what are you saying?" Glorfindel asked as Faramir immediately set about obeying Aragorn's orders.

"If I were Orophin, I would go to my ally's territories in Pelargir," Aragorn answered. "I'm almost certain that's where he's headed. And he could cover ground quickly using a boat."

"But from there, where would he be going?" Glorfindel asked.

"I'm not sure," Aragorn said. "But it's a good place to start looking."

"I'm going with you," Gwîneth said, stepping forward from behind Mallorn.

"But my Lady—," Aragorn replied, trying to keep his tone firm but gentle.

"You can't leave me here when he's out somewhere," Gwîneth protested, her voice trembling with emotion. "Legolas is my brother, and I will help you look for him!"

"And you can't leave us out this time," Samwise said as the rest of the Hobbits, Gimli, and he approached Aragorn.

"Don't forget us," Éomer, Éowyn, and Imrahil joined the group, their expressions determined. "We want to help too."

Aragorn smiled grimly, deeply touched by their support.

"I can't ask you to do this," he said, though he knew they had already decided.

"You don't have to," Imrahil said, clapping a reassuring hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "We want to help. We're here for Legolas as much as for you. He is Gondor's Consort, after all."

Aragorn nodded, his heart swelling with gratitude and resolve.

"All right, everyone," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his responsibility. "We'll still search for Legolas in the Orcs' nests. So, we'll divide into groups. If anyone finds him, send word at once. Faramir and I will follow the river to Pelargir, and the rest of you will ride towards the eastern areas. We move at first light!"

Everyone nodded, their resolve strengthened by Aragorn's words. Despite the danger that awaited them, there was a collective determination to bring Legolas home safely. They knew the path ahead would be perilous, but they were ready to face it together, united by their loyalty and love for their friends.

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To Be Continued...

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Comments... Comments...Comments... Comments... Please feel free to leave a comment below—it motivates me to keep writing and helps me improve the story. I'm looking forward to reading your feedback!

Also, can anyone make a cover for the story?