Frodo watched Bilbo shuffle about the room in silence. After telling the old hobbit everything that had been discussed that day Bilbo had been excited, and though he tried to hide it, he was also worried about what could befall his nephew on his trek between Rivendell and Isengard. Frodo had insisted that he would be fine and Bilbo was willing to take his words to heart and do his best not to worry. Now his uncle was searching  for some things that he wished to give him before he set out on his journey, it was dusk and the eight who were setting out tomorrow were spending this night preparing for long road ahead. 

"Ah! Here they are," Bilbo walked towards his bed and carefully laid down two items on it, motioning for Frodo to come over. "These will serve you well in the days to come lad," Bilbo grabbed the hilt of a small sword and presented it to Frodo. "My old sword, Sting, surely you remember it from my adventures?" Frodo smiled as he carefully unsheathed the blade. Holding it up he gazed at the smooth blade, the light from a nearby candle reflected off the metal and cast a glow on Frodo's face.

"The blade glows blue when orcs are close," Bilbo warned as Frodo slid Sting back into its sheath, "and it's times like that my lad, when you need to be extra careful." Frodo nodded and placed the sword back on the bed. "Thank you Bilbo." The old hobbit chuckled.
"Don't thank me yet my boy, I still have one more gift for you." Frodo watched curiously as Bilbo held what appeared to be a silver shirt in front of him. "Mithril, as light as a feather and as hard as dragon scales. Here, try it on."

Nodding, and slightly in awe of the gift, Frodo shrugged off his outer shirt and tossed it onto the bed before accepting the mithril coat from Bilbo and sliding it on over his head. Briefly, the old hobbit caught sight of the Ring hanging around Frodo's neck and gazed at it longingly.
"Oh, my old ring." he said, sounding as if he wasn't at all concerned about it. Frodo gazed at his uncle curiously as he adjusted the coat to make it more comfortable.
"What was that uncle?" He asked reaching for his jacket.
"Nothing, nothing." Bilbo quickly replied, watching warily as Frodo slid on his shirt.

"Actually, could I hold it? Just one last time." Bilbo's request caught Frodo off guard. He didn't want to be rude towards his uncle, but something in his mind warned him that giving Bilbo the Ring was a bad idea.
"Uncle," he began quietly,
"I don't think that-"

"Give it to me!" Bilbo shouted, his face contorted in rage as he lunged at Frodo's neck. Frodo had just enough time to back out of his uncle's reach. His heart hammered in his chest and his hand tightly clasped the Ring, he looked at his uncle in what was a mixture of fear and pity. He held Bilbo's gaze for just a moment longer before the anger left his eyes, and sorrow replaced it. Frodo released the Ring as Bilbo turned away from him, tears of shame falling from his eyes. "Frodo, for your sake and mine, be careful with that ring, and if possible get rid of it as soon as you can." Bilbo turned around once more to look at his nephew, tears falling freely from his tired eyes. "I couldn't bear to have it corrupt you the way it has me."

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Aragorn wandered the paths of the gardens, his only companions were the storm of emotions swirling around in his mind. Doubt, fear, worry, all of those and many more were the reasons for his unease. He knew that he needed to straighten himself out before morning, if he didn't have it together he would be endangering his friends. Soft footsteps from behind alerted him to another's presence. Turning around, Aragorn allowed a smile to appear as the figure stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

"Hiril vuin," he greeted with a dip of his head.
"Aragorn, what are you doing out here alone?" Arwen asked, her voice soft and beautiful, deep blue eyes gazing at his with concern. Aragorn sighed and moved to stand beside her. Taking her delicate hand into his, they walked side by side through the gardens.
"I needed some time to myself to prepare for the journey." Aragorn answered her question as simply as he could, indicating with his voice that he did not want to dwell on the subject. Arwen, who could read him better than most, acknowledged his silent request and did not push him for more answers.

"Your friends are preparing for the journey as well," Arwen glanced sideways at him as she spoke. Taking in every feature of his face, knowing that it would be a long time before she saw it again.
"I hope that I do not lead them to their deaths." Aragorn murmured, but his comment was picked up by Arwen's sensitive ears.
"You must quit doubting yourself Aragorn, you have not failed your friends before and you surely will not now." Her tone was sharp, but her eyes soft. She knew better than anyone what kind of burdens Aragorn put on himself, she feared that they would be his downfall.

"This is different Arwen," Aragorn muttered meeting her gaze he continued, "I could count how many times I have led them into danger. Was it not only last month when I led them straight into the Nazgúl? Legolas, Merry, Boromir, they could have died and it would have been my fault!" Arwen said nothing. Instead she rubbed the back of Aragorn's hand with her thumb, offering him what comfort she could.
"They do not blame you for what happened, so you must stop blaming yourself. Your friends are alive and well, they are ready to follow you just as they always have."

Aragorn shook his head at her statement, denying her words even as she spoke them.
"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" She demanded, coming to a stop and waiting for an answer. When Aragorn didn't reply Arwen asked again,
"Why Aragorn? You are never like this, what is troubling you? Please tell me, I want to help
you." Reaching her hand out she gently stroked his face, pleading with him with her eyes, begging him to let her help.
I cannot bear to see you this way, she said to herself. Finally, he conceded.

"It started after Legolas awoke, I had expected him to be the way he always was. Tired perhaps, even a bit angry, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw." Arwen said nothing. She would wait for Aragorn to finish speaking.
"It-it was as if he had gone mad. He screamed, started clawing at his arms, there was blood everywhere, his blood. After he awoke again, I was prepared for the worst, only when I entered his room he wasn't screaming or violent. He was afraid, confused, vulnerable. I have never seen him that way before Arwen. It was like he was a child, I could not recognize him."

Aragorn wondered if she would say something, but all Arwen did was nod her head for him to continue. "Legolas, he's never shown anything like that before. He always hides those parts of him, he thinks it is a weakness, but whatever that Nazgúl did to him, it changed him. He has not recovered as fully as he wishes us to believe." Having finished Arwen silently went over what he had said.
"What are you trying to say Aragorn? Please do not tell me that you hold yourself responsible for what happened to Legolas."

"How could I not Arwen?!" Aragorn didn't care that he had yelled at her. He was tired, and the guilt of what had happened because of his incompetence was pushing him to his limit.
"I was the one who left them! I should have been there! I-"

"What could you have done to stop him?" Arwen asked calmly, interrupting him with a simple question.
"What?" Aragorn asked, her question lost on his troubled mind.
"What could you have done to stop Legolas from challenging the Nazgúl to save Frodo?" She asked again arching an eyebrow. "It is not in Legolas' nature to back down when someone's life is in danger," she continued, "whether you had been there or not doesn't matter. Legolas would have fought of the Nazgúl no matter what. He has risked his life for you many times before and has been injured in doing so, but not once has he held you responsible for the hurts he has suffered."

Aragorn groaned in exasperation. He knew she was right, she was always right.
"But why Arwen? Why must he be so selfless? Why can he not look after himself for once, take account of that fact that his life is worth just as much as mine?" 

"Because he loves you Aragorn, you are like a brother to him, and Gimli, the two of you are family to Legolas, and if he were to lose you it would kill him."

Aragorn let her words sink in. He'd always known that Legolas considered himself and Gimli as brothers, yet that gave the elf no reason to thrust himself into danger all the time. Does he not realize that he has so much more to lose than we do? He is immortal, he deserves to live out his days in Middle Earth for as long as he desires before sailing to Valinor, he should not have to die before then.

Arwen could tell that Aragorn still didn't understand, and she knew that it was only because of how much Aragorn cared for his friend.
"Legolas' life is not in your hands Aragorn," she said after a period of silence, "nor are the lives of the others. They know what risks they are taking by setting out on this journey, they do not expect you to be able to shelter them from every harm that passes their way."

Is that not what a leader is supposed to do?
He asked himself bitterly. Arwen sighed and kissed him softly on the cheek.
"Talk to them Aragorn, let them tell you with their own words that they know and accept that." She backed away only to be pulled back into an embrace. Aragorn held her close as she closed her eyes, breathing him in and relishing what could be her last time with the man she loved more than her own life.

Please Valar, return him safely to me, and above all bring him peace.

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Gimli made his way to Legolas' room, wanting to check on his friend and see how was faring. When he arrived the dwarf was slightly surprised to see the door open, Legolas usually kept it closed when they stayed in Rivendell. Taking a cautious step inside Gimli found the elf hunched over a desk, a quill in his hand a piece of paper lying before him. 

Ah, I see what he's doing. After agreeing to accompany Frodo to Isengard, Elrond had suggested that Gimli and Legolas write to their fathers to inform them that they would be gone for awhile. For secrecy they were not to mention where they were going or whom they were traveling with. Gimli had finished his letter to his father sometime during the late afternoon, he had assumed that Legolas would have finished by now.

Upon approaching the elf Gimli noticed that Legolas was barely moving. The quill hovered over the desk, ink dripped off the tip and onto the smooth wood forming a small puddle. When Gimli's eyes settled on the paper, he was even more surprised to see that it was blank. Another odd thing was that Legolas had yet to acknowledge him, and Gimli was not exactly the quietest person.

In fact, Legolas seemed to be lost in another world. His chin was resting in his hand and his face was turned towards the open window away from Gimli. Clearing his throat, the dwarf finally managed to catch his friend's attention.
"Oh, good evening Gimli. What brings you here?" Legolas asked with his usual cheerful grin. Yet there was something off about his smile, Gimli noted with a frown, it did not reach his eyes. Even the elf's eyes (which were normally a bright blue) seemed dull.

He was going to say something about it, but since Gimli could tell that Legolas was doing his best to appear normal he pretended that he didn't notice. "Just came to see how you were doing lad. Having some trouble there?" Gimli nodded his head towards the blank paper on the desk. Legolas let out an embarrassed laugh.
"Aye, believe it or not my friend, I am at a loss for words."

"You're also making a mess," Gimli pointed at the spreading puddle of ink that had made its way towards the edge of the desk and was now dripping onto Legolas' pants. Face flushed red with embarrassment, Legolas searched for something to clean the mess up with while Gimli tried his best not to laugh.
"I'm a bit surprised Legolas." Gimli watched in amusement as the elf disappeared into the adjoining washroom and emerged with a towel and a black stain on his pants.
"You always have something to say, there are times when you talk a bit too much."

Legolas rolled his eyes and ignored the dwarf as he cleaned up the ink.
"In fact," Gimli continued, "you spend so much time writing those songs of yours I would think that you'd have been able to come up with a simple letter in a matter of minutes." At that statement Legolas looked up at him with a tired smile.
"Trust me Gimli; writing my songs and writing to my father are two very different things."

"Come on Legolas, how hard can it be to write a letter to your father letting him know that you will be gone for a few months?" That was when Gimli noticed Legolas' smile fade, and his body went still. Legolas blinked once before turning away from his friend, his hair fell over his face hiding it from view.
"Legolas? What's wrong lad?" Gimli asked tentatively. Legolas shook his head. "It is nothing."

Gimli groaned and rolled his eyes. "Don't be stubborn Legolas. I can tell when something's bothering you. Just tell me what it is so I can help you." The scene with Radagast earlier that day was still fresh in Gimli's mind. The wizard had told Legolas that he needed to stop keeping all of his secrets to himself, what shocked Gimli was that the elf had any secrets at all. How many did he have? Did he keep them to himself because he was ashamed? Had he done something wrong? Those were the questions Gimli wished to ask but dare not speak aloud.

Determined to get at least one answer from his friend, Gimli quietly asked Legolas to tell him what was wrong. Finally conceding Legolas faced Gimli and simply stated,
"I cannot write to my father because I do not think he will care." Gimli scoffed in disbelief. That is his reason?! How could he even consider such a thing?!

"Legolas, of all the outrageous things you have said to me since we met, this one tops them all. How can you stand here and even contemplate the idea that your father doesn't care about you?" Gimli demanded.
"Because if he does care he has failed to show it!" Legolas responded in anger, which was rare for him. Both friends stared silently at each other. Gimli still and motionless with his arms crossed, Legolas breathing heavily with his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"My father rarely shows me any concern," Legolas continued, "anytime I have gone to him searching for some kind of praise or sign that he cares about me I am sent away with "Not now Legolas" or "I am busy Legolas," I may sound like a pouting child to you Gimli, but when this has been happening my entire life I-I have a hard time believing that father would even bat an eye if I were to be brought to his throne chained and soaked with my own blood!"

"Legolas!" Gimli snapped, both startled and shocked by Legolas' words. "Listen to yourself! How can you say those things about your own father?"
"Who are you to tell me what I can or cannot say about him?" Legolas retorted narrowing his eyes. And whether it was some trick of the light or Gimli's own imagination, the elf's eyes appeared to be far darker than they normally were. When he noticed the startled look on Gimli's face Legolas quickly averted his gaze.

"Please Gimli, I do not wish to speak of this anymore." It came out as a soft plea, one that Gimli could not refuse. Nodding his head Gimli turned and quickly left the room. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder at Legolas who had his back turned to him.
"Goodnight Legolas." When the elf made no reply the dwarf left the room without another word, closing the door behind him. Walking down the hallway towards his own room, Gimli thought of what Legolas had said about his father. He'd never met Thranduil before; but from what he had heard from his own father, Aragorn, and even Elrond, the elvenking was colder than most elves.

Yet that couldn't possibly mean he didn't care about his son, the last time he'd checked Gimli was certain that elves cared deeply for their children, surely Thranduil was no exception. Unless... had he done something to hurt Legolas? Gimli quickly shook the thought away. What right did he have to accuse Legolas' father of something as horrible as that? Though as hard as he tried to ignore it, a small voice in the back of his mind kept asking: What if?

Legolas has always been reluctant to talk about his family, Gimli thought, anytime one of us mentions his father or brothers he immediately changes the subject. There was something that Legolas was trying to hide from them, something that involved his father and brothers.
I should tell Aragorn. Gimli decided. As soon as he got the chance he would tell him about his suspicions. He didn't care if it concerned Legolas' family or not, if they were doing something to harm him then Gimli was going to do what he could to stop them.

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Legolas stared blankly at the ceiling. He was lying on his bed, his hair loose and and one arm resting under his head. He wished that he hadn't sent Gimli away, not the way he had. I shouldn't have become angry, it isn't his fault that I do not know how my father feels towards me. 

Sighing, Legolas rolled onto his side. His hand strayed towards the leaf that hung around his neck, he rubbed the smooth stone with his thumb, it was his way of comforting himself. How was he supposed to know what his father truly thought of him? Closing his eyes Legolas allowed his mind to wander, back to his childhood, long before he had stepped foot outside his kingdom....

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Legolas cautiously entered his ada's study with a book tucked under his arm, his bare feet made no sound on the cold floor. Inside his ada was seated at his desk speaking with Legolas' older brothers, Laithor and Lasstor, and all three elves seemed to be tense and angry. Legolas wondered if he should leave but before he could make a decision Lasstor noticed him and scowled. 

"What are you doing Legolas? You know that you're not supposed to be here." The second oldest snapped. Legolas flinched at his brother's sharp tone and hugged the book he was carrying to his chest.
"Calm yourself Lasstor, there is no need to raise your voice." Thranduil berated his son. Lasstor muttered something under his breath while Laithor watched Legolas in silence, his dark grey eyes sent shivers down Legolas' spine.

"Why are you in here Legolas?" Thranduil asked his tone revealed nothing as to how he felt. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" Laithor questioned. With shaking hands Legolas held out the book towards his father.
"I-I wanted you to read to me
ada."

Lasstor scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.
"You can read on your own Legolas." Lasstor said narrowing his eyes, which were a lighter grey than his older twin's.

Legolas nodded his head.
"Y-yes. But I-I want to spend time with you ada." Despite addressing their father, Laithor took it upon himself to speak for him.
"Adar is busy right now Legolas. Read to yourself or ask one of your nurses to if you want a story before bed. Now go, we have matters to discuss that do not concern you."

Legolas felt as if he had been slapped. Feeling tears forming in his eyes, he looked pleadingly towards his father, hoping against hope that he would ignore his brothers and come with him. His hopes were dashed the moment Thranduil nodded his head and told him to do as his brother said. Turning his back on them he fled. Racing down hallways and avoiding any elf that crossed his path: Legolas ran into his room, slammed the door closed, threw his book onto the floor, and flung himself onto his bed. It was only then that he allowed himself to cry.

Why did they resent him so much? Why did they constantly push him away? Crying into his blankets, the child asked himself, "What am I doing wrong?"

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What am I doing wrong?

That was the question Legolas asked himself when he awoke the next morning. That was the question he asked himself as he dressed for the journey. That was the question he asked himself as he headed out the door with his weapons on his back. That was the question that tormented his mind as he smiled and cheerfully greeted his friends....

Just as he'd always done.

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Morning came far too slow, yet way too fast for Boromir. He felt as if he hadn't gotten any rest at all last night. Well, there's nothing I can do about it now, he thought ruefully.  He was standing with the others in the early, grey morning. Adjusting the shield that hung on his back, Boromir silently studied those that stood with him. Frodo and Sam were beside each other. Sam's face was tired but his eyes were hopeful. Frodo's gaze was solemn, sad even, though Boromir couldn't tell why.

Merry was quietly conversing with Gimli about the route they were going to take. The young hobbit had a love for maps and he had spent last night studying whichever ones Elrond had. Pippin kept yawning, which in turn made Boromir yawn, then chuckle in amusement. The youngest member of their company had grown on the normally stoic warrior more than he wished to let on.

Legolas was himself as usual. Standing aloof from the others, a youthful grin on his face, humming a tune he had made. Boromir looked away from him before the elf could notice that he was watching him.  Before meeting Aragorn, Boromir had never seen an elf before, yet he had heard plenty of stories about them. One thing he'd heard was that elves had "powers" that could be used to harm mortals. They could drain a person of their life, take over their minds, and other horrors that Boromir knew were absolutely absurd, but couldn't help but wonder if they were true.

Yet so far in their short time of knowing each other Legolas had shown no open hostility towards him. Perhaps he would start to be more friendly towards the elf.

The arrival of Aragorn and Elrond brought Boromir out of his thoughts and back to the task on hand: bring Frodo and the Ring safely to Isengard. Although that was the plan  they had all agreed on, a nagging voice inside Boromir's head wondered if they were doing the right thing. Arargorn came to stand among the others and all listened quietly as Elrond addressed them.
"The eight of you have sworn to embark on a journey that will be perilous and filled with danger, those of you who wish to remain here, this is your last chance to do so."

No one said a word.

Elrond nodded and continued, "Sauron's spies will be everywhere, you must be on your guard, all of you. If things go ill on your journey you must remember that your first and foremost priority is the ringbearer, he is to be protected at all costs." More silence followed as the company let Elrond's words sink in. Finally, Elrond bowed his head towards them. "Go now, and may the Valar watch over you and guide you on your path." 

Dipping his head towards the elf lord, Boromir turned to follow the others out of Rivendell. Aragorn took the lead and he followed, then came Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Gimli, and finally Legolas. They set their sights on the land before them and banished all thoughts of retreat from their minds. Their journey had begun, but the quest had yet to begin.

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Hiril Vuin: My lady