Gandalf was waiting with Elrond when Legolas steered his horse through the city gates into Rivendale. The sun was high and golden above, shining through green leaves. He couldn't help but smile slightly at the beautiful city. It was a soft smile though. He wanted to bring Namir here one day. A stable hand took the reins of his horse from him as he dismounted. The small party of elves behind him from Mirkwood followed suit. He glanced at them then back down at the fine travelling clothes he was wearing. They were not his customary wear, too formal, but he had come from his father's kingdom and they insisted. He had only been in Mirkwood to meet Beorn and see if his father had heard any rumours about Namir. It had been twenty years since his lover had disappeared and lack of news of any kind was beginning to stifle his hope. 

Lord Elrond stepped forwards to greet him first. "Prince Legolas. We welcome you to our city. may you find your stay comfortable". 

Legolas bowed his head in reply. "Thank you for your hospitality". 

Gandalf stepped forwards then. Legolas had not spoken much with the wizard over the years. They were acquaintances, so he was surprised when Gandalf smiled at him and addressed him in such a friendly tone. "Legolas. Would you mind joining me for a stroll through the gardens? I have something of which I wish to speak to you about". 

Legolas smiled politely. "Of course". Gandalf turned and he followed through the light airy streets of Rivendale. They walked leisurely for five minutes until they reached the gardens. The gardens were highlighted but the streams and bubbling brooks that ran through them like veins. Flowers were beginning to bloom with the approaching spring and the air felt warm. The gardens were mostly empty of people. Any elf there was beyond earshot. 

Gandalf spoke up. "I have news. You shall hear about it in the meeting later. But there is something you should know". He paused for a second to take a deep breath, face grave. "Namir is alive".

Legolas stopped walking. He felt his breath catch in his throat, eyes widening. "How do you know?" 

"I know because I saw him". Gandalf's voice was a soft admission and the man looked weary. 

His chest hurt and Legolas clenched his hands into white knuckled fists. "Where? Where is he? I must know". 

"He is in Isengard. Saruman has been corrupted. He sides with Sauron. Namir is in his tower. Dark magic keeps him trapped". Gandalf drew a breath and let out a great sigh. "I could not free him". 

Legolas felt giddy and unsure with all the feelings swirling in his chest. Relief, hope, concern, anger. There had been nothing for twenty years. Not a whisper about him and no tracks to lead. He and Aragorn had searched for another five together before splitting and going about their own ways. Both needing to get back to responsibilities but still keeping on the search when they could. It was a horrible decision to have been forced to make. 

Sometimes, in the low moments, he thought that all he would find was a corpse. He would have nightmares of finding nothing but a dead body. A grave waiting for him, the earth buried around the body of a great cat; or worse, the body of a pale limp man with dried blood on his chest and empty eyes. He would wake with a sob on his lips and a cold space at his side. No familiar warmth. Validation that Namir was alive almost sent him reeling. Gandalf must have seen something on his face because the old man put a hand on his shoulder. "He is alive, Legolas", he repeated

"We need to rescue him. I can't let him stay there". A crack in his voice and his eyes were bright with water yet the tears did not fall, he refused let them. 

"I know". Gandalf nodded. "But only the death of Saruman can release him from the magic keeping him imprisoned. But I cannot say more. Come to the meeting this afternoon and you shall learn more". Legolas nodded, still reeling. Namir was alive. If he had to kill the wizard to set him free, then he would. His arrows were sharp enough. 

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Legolas attended Elrond's meeting with a forced calm. Every muscle in his body wanted to take his horse and ride for Isengard but Gandalf had told him to come, so he was there with his elves from Mirkwood and Lorien to hear what Elrond had to say. Others were, unfortunately in some cases, present in the small courtyard as representatives. Dwarves from Erebor, laden in armour and carrying huge axes. There were men as well. Men from Gondor with the white tree on their chests and Aragorn perched at the edge of their semicircle in a velvet green tunic. Legolas wanted to pull him to the side and share the news that was jittery in his veins, having not seen his friend in a year. (If Aragorn was here for the meeting then this threat was just as severe as Elrond's letter had stated. The man was a bit of a hermit). 

He was interrupted but the arrival of Gandalf and a halfling, a hobbit. He recognised the race but this hobbit looked different from the only other Hobbit Legolas had met. He was younger, with black curls and wide blue eyes. They took the empty seats on the other end of the semicircle and any conversation lulled as Elrond's gaze swept over the assembly. "Strangers from distant lands, Friends of old", he begun. "You have been summoned to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall". 

His words were foreboding and Legolas flitted his eyes over the strangers surrounding him in search of an reaction. Aragorn was doing the same and their gazes met for a second to share a glance. They both had theories about this threat that Elrond was referring too. "Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom", Elrond continued. He turned to the hobbit. "Bring forth the ring Frodo". 

Frodo stood nervously and stepped towards the table in the centre of the courtyard. He set down a gold ring and retook his seat. Legolas narrowed his eyes on the gold circle. It was small and unassuming, glinting in the light and still. Yet, he could feel a sense of unease pricking at him. This ring was not what it seemed. 

One of the men from Gondor, a man with sandy hair and beard, raised his hand to his chin. "It is true", the words were a breath but they echoed. He rose from his seat. "In a dream", he announced. "I saw the eastern sky go dark but in the west a pale light lingered. The voice is crying 'your doom is near at hand. Isildur's pain is found'". As he spoke, he took slow steps towards the table. 

unedited