Legolas awoke to wonder why there was so much light. There was no light in Orthanc but from the fires. Stranger still, the air lacked the oppressive heat of the pits.

Startled, he sat up, and the sight of Wellinghall brought back the events of the previous day. His ride in the palm of the Ent was a blur, save for the glorious sun high overhead. Now the sun was low in the east and the forest was filled with songs of waking.

Despite having slept a full day and night, his weariness lingered. His aches and pains had eased somewhat, likely due to the waters of the Entwash. Likely he now looked worse than he felt, for his tattered leggings and leather boots, the only garments left to him, still bore stains of blood and grit. Dirt, dried blood, and the ash that had surrounded him in Orthanc covered his skin. Even his hair hung in filthy clumps, coated in the same grime, the braids having long ago come undone.

The cuffs that had held Legolas to the wall in the pit still bound his wrists, and the skin beneath was raw and bloody. Despite the dose of healing waters, his back still ached with bruises, and cuts yet pulled at the skin. His broken ankle and arrow wound had begun to heal, but his hands still throbbed, particularly the right with its mangled fingers. And though he had drunk deeply of the Ent's waters, he still hungered for food and thirsted for more water.

The elf stretched cautiously on the stone slab that had served as his bed. After his time in Isengard, he had almost forgotten the peace of the forest. The green forest was full of life. With the shrieks and screams of orcs echoing in his mind, he closed his eyes and breathed in the air, the sounds, and the song of the forest. He nearly wept for what his senses had not taken in for—how long? He could not guess.

A crackling of dried leaves disturbed his nascent sense of peace and sent his heart into his throat. Too light to be the steps of an Ent, too quiet for an orc, he wondered who else shared this forest with Fangorn. It was too quiet even for a man, and his curiosity was aroused as well as his wariness. His thoughts went briefly to his bow, and he mourned the loss of the precious gift of Galadriel. But there had been greater losses on this journey, and surely there were more to come.

The taste of freedom was too fresh. Quite aware that he had no weapon and little strength, he looked swiftly for a safer position or sheltering nook, but there were only his stone bed and more rock behind him. Sliding himself down the six feet to the ground, he leaned heavily on the slab and fixed his eyes in the direction of the sound.

He saw the white robe before he saw a face and gasped. Of all paths for his fate to follow, it had been the same as Saruman's! He stepped back and looked about. Where was he to go? His anger flared. He would not return to Isengard, not with Saruman. He turned to face the wizard.

His knees nearly buckled beneath him, and his breath left him entirely, when the face emerged from the wood. He could not draw his eyes away from the visage of his old friend, but in a moment his mind caught up with him, and he saw the deception. The wizard slowed as he entered the clearing but said nothing. Legolas narrowed his eyes. "Stand back! I know who you truly are. I will not return to Isengard, Saruman." He spat out the name with venom.

The wizard halted his approach, and narrowing his eyes, looked over Legolas thoroughly.

"Show your true face!" Legolas said, hating the desperation in his voice. "You use the face of a friend I cannot recover. You do not deceive me!"

"Why would I wish to deceive you?" the wizard said calmly.

Too calmly, Legolas thought. His manner did not strike him as that of Saruman. He hesitated, but his despair would not allow him to relinquish his disbelief. "You cannot be Gandalf!"

The wizard's ample eyebrows rose. "Gandalf." He drew out the name, as if feeling it for the first time on his tongue. "Yes, that was what they called me. Gandalf the Grey. I am Gandalf the White."

Legolas was angered by the absurd statement. "You think I do not see your lie? Gandalf fell before my eyes! He is lost to us. You cannot deceive me. Show your face!" he demanded with all the force he could muster. As he spoke, his heart grieved anew for his lost friend, and his loathing for Saruman grew greater for his choice at trickery.

The wizard smiled sadly. "This is the only face I have to show you."

Noting that the wizard did not draw near and that he appeared to be alone, Legolas's tension eased somewhat. Perhaps Saruman had another purpose and did not seek to return him to Isengard. If the wizard would not stop Legolas, then he would go into the forest and search for food. Eventually, he might regain the strength and the courage to return to the tower and learn what had become of his friends.

Breathing a bit easier, the elf rounded the end of the slab. "You have no power over me. And I will not be prisoner again. I take my leave of you." He stopped. "What have you done with Aragorn?" Legolas dared not hope Saruman had brought the man with him, but he would know whether his friend yet lived.

"Aragorn?" The wizard looked thoughtful for a long moment. "Aragorn! Yes, the Dúnadan." His eyes flew open wide. "Legolas of Mirkwood. Yes." He looked satisfied though somber now, as if all were now right, if not well. "Yes, you did witness my fall in Moria, and since then I have traveled far, but I am now returned." He sighed. "My dear friend, what has befallen you?"

Legolas stared at the wizard, his desire to believe his eyes warring with a stubborn refusal to fall prey to the ruse. Looking askance at him, he asked, "You know where Aragorn is this moment?"

"I do not. With the mention of the man's name my memory has been set in order. I know of him and how important he is to the future of Middle-earth. He lives still?"

Legolas ignored his questions. Despite his determination not to succumb to this illusion, his eyes insisted he looked upon his friend Mithrandir, Gandalf—Gandalf the White now, if he was to be believed. "If you are indeed Gandalf," he said slowly, "then recite all the names by which you have known Aragorn."

The wizard laughed. "All of his names? I think we do not have the luxury of so much time. Legolas," he said, leaning on his staff, while Legolas noted it differed from both Saruman's and the one Gandalf had once used, "I am Gandalf, who fell in Moria, in battle with the Balrog, and left the completion our quest to the remainder of the Company." He shook his head. "I fear it has gone ill for the Fellowship."

Suspending his disbelief for a moment, Legolas responded quietly. "It has. It has gone ill for all of us." Gandalf-Saruman looked upon him sadly and kindly, and Legolas shook his head, as if to free himself of the wizard's spell. "You are a trickster and will take up no more of my time. Orcs will fill the woods soon, fleeing the flood set upon them by Fangorn and his fellow Ents. Your Isengard is destroyed, Saruman. Mayhap I must return there, though I am loath to do so, for I must learn the fate of my friends."

"Is that where you have spent your recent days? Saruman kept you prisoner in his tower?"

"Yes," Legolas said coolly, pleased to tell Saruman of his escape. "The Ent Fangorn freed me and brought me here. But I will linger no longer; I must find the remains of the Company."

"Yes, the Company—who remains?" the wizard asked slowly.

Still the elf hesitated, unsure of giving Saruman information he would not have him know. "Should you not know the answer to that question better than I?"

The wizard widened his eyes in alarm. "He captured all of you, then? Oh dear." He paused for a moment. "I do not know the fate of our friends, Legolas. I beg you tell what you know, for I would know something of them."

His manner was so wholly unlike Saruman, as he seemed to nearly plead for an answer, that Legolas's disbelief began to crumble. Grudgingly, the elf answered. "I have not seen them for some number of days, how many I do not know. But last we were together, just arrived in the Tower of Orthanc, Gimli, Aragorn, Merry and Pippin lived."

The wizard's eyes widened and he seemed to force out his next words, his face screwed up with what appeared to be fear. "And Frodo and Sam? Boromir?"

Heartened by the emotion in the wizard's face, his disbelief continued to falter. But he would be faithful to Frodo and Sam. He said in a hard voice, "I will say that Boromir died on the banks of the Anduin by the hand of your beasts. But never shall I reveal the location of the hobbits! If that is the goal for your pretense, you shall fail!"

The wizard sighed heavily and nodded. "True to the end are you, Legolas of Mirkwood. They are the only important ones. More important even than I. But you speak of them as though they live, and I shall be satisfied with that, even as I mourn for the loss of the good Captain of Gondor."

Legolas's heart begged to accept this apparition as his friend, and his strength to withstand the deception failed him. "Mithrandir," he said quietly, "if it be you, prove yourself, I beg. I would be overjoyed with such a gift. Joy has been rare of late."

Gandalf frowned. "Prove myself? Hmph!" He stomped his staff on the ground. "Once upon a time, Mithrandir's word was accepted with respect and swiftly so. Prove myself! I did not fight fire and ice to be questioned by such a child as you! I tire of your questions, Legolas. Enough! We have a man, a dwarf, and a pair of hobbits to find while danger grows in Edoras. Time runs short!"

Legolas looked with wide eyes as if seeing the wizard for the first time. "Mithrandir!" he muttered. "It is truly you!" He tried to speak, but no more words would come. Suddenly weak, he sagged heavily against the stone slab and eased himself to his knees. "You have returned and at the height of need. Mayhap the Valar have not forgotten us!"

Only now did Gandalf approach Legolas and lay his hand gently on Legolas's bare and bruised shoulder. "No, Legolas, the Valar have not forgotten us. They bade me return, in fact, to finish my task." He gently pulled Legolas to his feet and the elf grasped his arm tightly.

"Forgive me, Mithrandir. These past days have taken me past hope, past faith."

Gandalf looked at him closely. "Saruman spared you nothing, I see. You are not fit for an hour's march, much less a search of any sort."

"But I must. I do not even know if they live!" The words roused the fear he had tried to deny. "I dread returning to the tower, but I cannot leave them to their torment if perchance they remain."

Gandalf frowned but nodded. "We shall make a search, I assure you. You say an Ent brought you here?"

"The Ent Fangorn freed me from Orthanc, just as the orcs had found me. He left others of his kind to continue their work on Isengard." Legolas could not hold back half a smile at the memory of the destruction they had begun.

"Their work?"

"Apparently the Ents decided that Saruman's work was finished. They are destroying Saruman's defiled Isengard. I only wish Saruman was there to witness it," he said bitterly.

"So, Saruman has left Isengard." Gandalf nodded. "First we ought to find you some food. When an elf looks hungry, the situation is serious, indeed. When have you last eaten?"

"I have not had food since..." Legolas frowned. "I cannot remember. Certainly not since arriving in Orthanc, and I cannot say how long I was imprisoned there, nor did I eat while we marched." Legolas tried to recall what came before, but all was a vague jumble of flame, pain, and orcs.

"You are nearly starved. Even an elf must eat! I suppose Fangorn has shared his waters with you? That is good, for they are healing as well as nourishing. And when did you arrive in Fangorn?"

"Sometime past midday yesterday, if I have slept only one night. The waters of Wellinghall are truly a wonder, for I am already improved."

"You still look as if many orcs had far too much time with you."

"Aye, they did."

"Forgive me, we need not speak of it. You are free, and you shall remain free. We will search for the others, as soon as you are able. But not before. I will go now and return shortly with food for a hungry elf."

With that, Gandalf was off into the wood. As Legolas watched the wizard fade into the dimness of the forest, his shock overcame him suddenly. It began in his belly and grew, and he was soon laughing aloud. He sat on the grass of Wellinghall and laughed until tears streamed down his face, leaving pale streaks on his grimy face.