As he topped the small hill, a clearing opened below allowing full view of the scene. Many Orcs lie dead; Legolas could also make out bodies of Elves and Men. Two Elves and two Men were fighting back-to-back defending furiously against the onslaught of Orcs. The four fought fiercely but Legolas could see bright red blood flowing from wounds on all four, and the Orcs had them outnumbered. As he took in the scene, he knew immediately how to press the fight. Glad now that he had a full quiver he paused and loosed arrows at the Orcs embattling the failing four. The Orcs split up their assault and came towards him. He shot until his quiver was empty, and then tossing aside both bow and quiver, took up his sword in his right hand and the long knife in his left. He ducked, thrust, parried, stabbed, jumped, slashed, sidestepped and weaved his way through the Orcs, leaving death in his wake. The Orcs could not touch him; their swords hit only air. His body and mind sang as perfect control, balance, highly honed skill, and deadly thrusts blended to give him an intense feeling of pleasure.

 Legolas worked his way to the Men and Elves, to find that the two Men had succumbed. The wounded Elves were bolstered by his arrival and fought with renewed hope. He positioned himself on their flank though this was not his favorite position to fight. The Orcs now realized that the tables had turned and their numbers were greatly reduced. Suddenly, with a great cry, they withdrew from the fight and disappeared into the woods. Legolas quickly abandoned the thought of going after them when he saw the Elf nearest to him fall onto the ground. The fair face of the dark haired Elf was drawn up in pain. His mouth was open, but only a groan escaped his lips. Legolas knelt at his side, but the second Elf went to a bundle of clothing that was at the center of their defense. It only took a glance to discern that the planes and angles on both Elf faces were almost identical; Legolas surmised that they must be brothers.

The Elf by the bundle of clothes uncovered a small She-Elf, took her gently into his arms and cried softly, “Olos, nin muinthel!”

Legolas examined the wounds of the Elf in front of him. He knew there was no hope of life here. The wounds are too severe and too many; too much blood has been lost. Healing was far away. He looked into the suffering face of the Elf and said, “I will return,” then stood. The Elf’s eyes widened at Legolas, and he tried to speak. Legolas saw a look of surprise and something else, in the Elf’s face; then the wounded Elf’s head rolled to the side. He turned and moved to the second Elf cradling his sister. When he got closer to the kneeling Elf, he saw two gaping chest wounds that had completely pierced the Elf’s body. Blood was flowing freely. Then Legolas beheld the limp body and ashen face of the She-Elf that was being held. The thought that he had been too late hit him sharper than any Orc blade.

The kneeling Elf then slumped onto the ground, without making another sound. Legolas knew already, but checked him for any sign of life. Finding none, he turned his attention to the She-Elf. “By my bow!” he swore when he found that she yet had breath. He remembered seeing the opening of a cave not too far back and knew he had to hurry. The Orcs may return soon with reinforcements. He quickly gathered up the She-Elf and went back to the cave on the side of the hill. He silently thanked Elbereth that it was roomy inside and the opening easily hidden outside. He hated any cave, but the wounded Elves needed shelter. He hurried back to her brother on the field, and was surprised and pleased to find him still alive but unconscious; bound up his wounds tightly, then brought him back to the cave.

Legolas gathered what he could to attempt to heal his charges. “I may not have the powers of Lord Elrond, but I will do everything I can to help you,” he promised aloud to both of the unconscious Elves. He went first to the Male-Elf and unwrapped, assessed, and cleaned the wounds. Many were deep. Legolas did not understand why the Elf yet lived. He made a paste from the dried healing plant from home that he always carried with him in his pack, and applied it liberally to the wounds. Then he wrapped them again with clean cloth. The bleeding had stopped, but the Elf’s breathing was shallow and barely discernable, and his color was not good. When Legolas touched the Elf’s brow, he could feel a fever beginning.

After doing all that he could for the Male-Elf, Legolas went to the She-Elf. He saw no evident outward sign of injury; she was covered in dirt and grime, and there was blood caked and dried, covering her skin, hair, and clothing. After checking for anything broken, be began undressing her. Remembering that her brother had called her “Olos,” he began speaking to her softly and soothingly. “Olos, I am Legolas, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood. I will not harm you. You are injured. Do not be afraid. I will allow no harm to come to you.”

Once he had all but her thin shift taken off, he began washing the filth off her. He could not help but notice, as he worked on her, that her beauty was breathtaking. As the grime came off, her skin shone, flawless, soft, and creamy. He looked for a cause for her deathlike pallor and unconscious condition. He gasped when he got to her neck; it was bruised all the way around, and showed the impression of a large, tight metal collar that had cut into her flesh. Looking at her wrists and ankles confirmed that they too, had been cruelly shackled. A feeling of horror overtook him and he shuddered as he looked upon her. “Have you been imprisoned in Mordor, Olos? Did your brothers and their companions somehow rescue you from Sauron?”

Modesty not withholding him any longer, he removed her shift, revealing bruises and ugly wounds, some partially healed. He cleaned them, applied the medicinal paste, and bandaged them. They would all heal. He felt that he knew now why she had the look of death upon her. If she had been imprisoned in Barad-Dur and tortured with no hope of escape or rescue, she probably felt that there was only one way out. “You have willed yourself to die, Olos, but you have been rescued. You are safe, now. Come back, Olos.” He knew that he had little time, if any, to try to get through to her. An Elf has the ability to leave the Circles of this World whenever they choose. This Grace had been given to them along with immortality.

Her body was becoming increasingly cold. Legolas did not know exactly what to do, but he knew he had to do something. He spoke to her while he rubbed her arms and legs, and then chaffed her hands. He put his hands tenderly on her face and looked at her long lashes and closed eyes. “I shall not let you die!” His sudden thought that he should raise her body temperature came from sheer desperation. Unable to make a fire, he knew of only one way to warm her. He took off his tunic, undershirt, and leggings, then laid his body over hers and pulled a blanket over them both. He leaned on his elbows to keep his full weight from her; he held her body close to him; put a hand on either side of her face, and put his face close to hers. He slowly began stroking her body with his, from head to toe. He said her name as he stroked her cheek with his. He whispered her name in her ear. “Cuio Olos. Dartho na nin. Do not leave; you are safe, now. You are imprisoned no longer.”

As Legolas looked upon her face, her pallor seemed to change. The gray was lessening, or was that just his imagination? Then he perceptibly felt her body temperature begin to go up. It was working!

Warmth that had begun in his chest now competed with a delicious warmth beginning in his loins. His skin tingled everywhere it touched hers. He began to find it hard to breathe; then took a deep breath, trying to think of the danger of the situation, not that he was lying naked rubbing a lovely She-Elf. He watched her beautiful face as he kept his need in check. The same planes and angles of her brother’s features combined in her to create a beauty he had never seen before. He had seen many fair and beautiful Elves, but she was by far more exquisite than any other.

Her face had indeed lost its gray pallor, and now her cheeks flushed red. Legolas had just noticed that her breathing had increased, when he turned to see her eyes looking directly into his. He was startled by their blue brilliance, and he tried to suppress a gasp. He was surprised when she moved her body even closer to his and put her arms around his neck. A slight smile showed on her mouth as she whispered, “I knew you would be here, melamin. I have long awaited our meeting.”

Something in her eyes and voice sent a shiver down the length of his body. It was as if she had touched his soul. He fought to control some emotion, which threatened to overtake him. Through it all, he felt a familiarity in this awkward situation. He hoped the tone of his voice sounded reassuring, “Olos, I am Legolas of Mirkwood. I am here to help you.”

The smile left her lips and fear came into her eyes as memory came flooding back. “But you are he who comes to me in my dreams!” She looked into his face, scrutinizing. Then she put both hands over her face and began to weep. “No. It cannot be. I yet live, and you are but a dream. I am mad; all hope is lost.”

She allowed him to hold her while she wept. “This is no dream. I am no dream. Your brothers, one of whom lies badly wounded over there, have rescued you. You are free. You must return to this World with its cares and concerns of those who love and need you.”

Legolas knew that he had gotten through to her as the tears stopped and the hands came down. His heart filled with emotion as he watched her gain control and look around to the wounded man. “Filandil! My brother! Let me up!” Legolas hastily rose and drew his long undershirt over his head. Olos was trying to get up, but was weak and having difficulty. He put her shift on her as her deep blue eyes looked into his. He tried to help her stand, but seeing that she could not, he carried her to where Filandil was lying. She took her brother’s hand and held it to her cheek. A look of great sadness came over her. “Where is Garanchiel?”

Legolas looked away as he said, “Your other brother lies still on the field of battle. He held you in his arms as he died.”

Tears rolled down her face as she closed her eyes, still holding Filandil’s hand to her cheek. Then she looked up at Legolas with something akin to desperation, “Will he live?”

He told her the truth. “I know not, Brennil.” He could see she was in despair, but time was growing short, and there were things that had to be done. “I must leave you for awhile. I shall be back shortly.” She looked up at him, as he put on his leggings and tunic, but he could not read the look that she gave him. He took lembas out of his pack, and got the extra water bag and gave them to her. He picked up his sword, and left the cave on silent but swift feet. It was fully dark now, but he had to recover his bow and reclaim arrows. Orcs out early did not bode well, just as the growing shadow in the East. This was exactly the kind of information that he had been sent to find.

Silently, he moved toward the battlefield. His keen hearing picked up no sound; his sharp eyes gave no sign of the enemy. His senses told him that Orcs had not returned yet. Quickly, he found his quiver and bow, where he had thrown them. Many arrows were still usable; he took Orc arrows to make up the difference. He felt much better with his quiver full again, and his bow in his hand. He cast a look at the bodies, “I shall return tomorrow to honor you.” To linger here at night was folly.

Legolas stopped by the river on the way back to the cave and refilled the water bag. He went inside the cave entrance and managed to cover it completely with branches that he pulled across the front. “We are too close to Mordor, to stay here long, but at the moment, we are well hidden.” She was using a wet cloth to wipe her brother’s forehead; his fever was rising. When Legolas looked at her he felt a tightening of his chest and a spreading of warmth through his body that caused his skin to tingle, reminding him of the touch of her skin. Olos only noticed the narrowing of his bright blue eyes in his fair face as he gazed at her.

She watched Legolas take off his weapons. He pulled out wafers from his pack, then walked over to the feverish man and sat cross-legged facing her. There was no need to study his face or profile, for she knew every detail, but she did anyway. The high sharp cheekbones, the brooding brow, and the hard jaw line kept drawing her attention. She even knew what he looked like when he was filled with joy. That happened in her dreams, whereas she knew in her heart that this Legolas rarely even smiled.

After eating quickly, Legolas checked Filandil’s wounds. They did not bleed and clear fluid was draining. “If he can survive this night, he will recover,” he said.

Legolas could tell that Olos had eaten the lembas; she seemed much stronger. Filandil began moaning in his delirium. “He must not cry out; we will be discovered,” Legolas warned softly.

“I will walk with him,” she said as she took her brother’s hand in hers and lay beside him. She closed her eyes and emptied her mind of all thoughts but Filandil. Legolas could tell when she found him, for Filandil relaxed his brow, and became quiet.

The Prince of Mirkwood continued putting cool water on the fevered Elf. At one point during the night, he saw tears coming from the closed eyes of both, but neither made a sound nor moved. Legolas studied Olos through the night as she lay beside her brother. He fought an impulse to touch her face. The apparent roundness and clefts of her body through her shift were having an effect on him. He face flamed when he felt heat go through his body again. “I am uncouth and a cad if I let this keep happening. She is in dire circumstances and needs help, not a love-sick puppy,” he thought. It was not only the feeling of desire, but also a deep feeling of familiarity that had him in its grip. As he gazed at her, he suddenly knew in his heart how her body felt and how her lips would taste. In his mind, a scene came to him of her laughing and holding out her hands to him. A chill ran up his spine and he shook his head to clear this inner vision. A thrill and a fear ran through him. “I know not what is happening.”  

It was well past sunrise when Legolas sensed movement from one of the forms before him and came back from his internal wandering through a favorite forest. Two pair of startling blue eyes looked up at him, the more pale belonged to Filandil, the deeper sea-blue, Olos’. Legolas checked Filandil’s forehead for fever. Finding none he knew the crisis was over. “You must be a healer,” he said to Olos. “He does not look as if death was calling for him just hours ago.”

“My sister does have healing gifts, given to her by our Mother,” Filandil said in a surprisingly strong voice as he and Olos sat up. He looked appraisingly at Legolas and said, “I thank you for saving our lives, Dagnir in Orc. We are in your debt. I am Filandil, and this is my sister, Olosulisse. We are from the city of Aesgantie, which is bordered by the Great Sea, in the land of Forlindon.”

Legolas was amazed. “I am Legolas, son of King Thrandiul, of Northern Mirkwood. I know not of Aesgantie, but I do know of Forlindon. It is far to the West, beyond even the Gray Havens.”

“Yes, on the other side of the Eredluin Mountains.”

“Pray tell how you came to be here in such peril, so far from home. There were Men in your company. How did that come about?” questioned Legolas.

“In Aesgantie, Men and Elves live side by side. When Orcs captured Olosulisse, my brother Garanchiel and I enlisted our companions to rescue her.”

“Orcs attacked your city in Forlindon? This is grave news indeed.” But Legolas did not have time to ponder this new information.

“We rescued Olosulisse from the dungeons of Barad-Dur yesterday. Orcs surprised us by following and attacking before nightfall. Olosulisse was death itself, and could not be roused. I believed that hope was lost until you arrived.” Filandil paused for a moment, then, “I know Garanchiel has fallen. I only wish he and the others could be brought back to Aesgantie to be buried in honor among our people.”

Legolas noted the hollow look around the eyes of Olosulisse. When Filandil talked about her being captured, she had cast her eyes down. As Filandil brought up their brother, they had looked at each other with pain on their faces. Legolas knew they had mourned Garanchiel together on the Other Side.

After assuring himself that both Olosulisse and Filandil were eating, Legolas took his leave of them to attend the field. He found a depression in the hill where he placed the Men and Elves and covered them high with rocks. He touched no Orc. The work made his heart heavy and his countenance grim.

In the cave, Olosulisse and Filandil had finished their meal in silence. She looked at Filandil questioningly and he answered her. “No, I do not think it wise to tell him who we are. He is brave and strong, but we cannot endanger him needlessly. We are far from home, and much lies before us.”

In turn, he looked questioningly at her, but only wanted her to say aloud what he already knew. Her eyes were shining as she answered him in turn, “Yes. It is he.” 

 

 

 

After his grueling task was complete, Legolas went to the river where he took off his tunic and carefully washed it and laid it in the sun. The process was repeated for his undershirt, leggings, boots, and belt. Then he took out the ties holding his braids and unbraided his long hair. He then waded out into the deepest part of the river, and dived as far down as he could go. From under the water, he looked back up at the surface where the sun was hitting the water and sending streaks of light shooting down at angles. He let the force of the water wash away the smell of death, which clung to him. Kicking swiftly to the surface, he floated on his back watching the white clouds roll across the blue sky.

As his mind centered, his thoughts became troubled. What he found on the field of battle unsettled him. He buried four Men, and three Elves under the rocks. There were hundreds of dead Orcs. While moving them to the hillside he saw their wounds. All had multiple mortal wounds. He knew Orcs had not returned and mutilated the bodies; so only one thing seemed to make sense. “They kept fighting even though they should have been wounded to the death.” Even the Men, who were weaker than Elves, showed signs of continuing the fight long after they should have fallen. “How is it possible that eight fighters, no matter how strong, were able to enter Barad-Dur and successfully rescue someone from its dungeons?” was foremost in his mind. Why would Orcs be raiding in Forlindon, so far from Mordor? Why would Sauron bother to take a She-Elf from the land on the Great Sea, and bring her all the way back to Mordor to keep prisoner in his dungeon? There was an unspoken truth here that he knew Olosulisse and Filandil were keeping from him. His senses told him that there was a great danger, somehow wound around these two Elves.

When he left the river, his clothes were dry. The last thing he did was comb and re-braid his hair before returning to the cave. When he entered, he found both Filandil and Olosulisse resting. “I brought your sword; you may have need of it soon, I fear. Your horses are all dead. We will have to walk out of here when you are both able. We must move farther from Sauron’s reach.” Legolas glanced at the beautiful She-Elf. Filandil heard the voice soften and say, “I have laid your company to rest on the hillside. Garanchiel is with his companions.”

“Again we are in your debt, Legolas Thranduilion.” Filandil placed his hand over his brow and lowered his head. Olosulisse went to him and put her arms around him. After awhile, she turned to Legolas, “I see you have found a place to bathe. I must wash; I cannot stand myself like this,” she said looking down upon her soiled clothing.

“Be iest lin. I will take you to the river, not far from here.” When he turned back right before leaving the cave Legolas caught Filandil looking at him. The look made him uneasy.

They left Filandil and made their way to the river. Legolas noticed that Olosulisse was walking with little effort, and seemed much improved. When they approached the bank, he turned and gave her his comb. “Hennaid, Legolas.” He then went to a large boulder and made it to the top with two elegant cat-like leaps. He set his senses on alert and had his bow in hand as he scanned the woods and horizon.

Olosulisse also found solace in the flowing water. She was actually smiling by the time she ran the comb through her long black hair. Standing straight and tall as a tree, Legolas turned toward her as he sensed the change in her mood. “I thought I could never feel clean again,” she said almost apologetically. His eyes took in the rich, deep color of her long black hair, and even though it was still damp, he saw that it was now thick and lustrous. He let his eyes rest on her face, which had been transformed with her smile. Her red lips showed perfect teeth, the black hair highlighted the flawless white skin, and her shining eyes seemed to glow as two blue orbs. He took a deep breath, and then slowly released it, but he could not slow his racing pulse. He jumped down from the boulder and came to stand in front of her. He saw that her clothing had been of the finest quality. The angry marks on her neck had faded to faint lines. He came closer to her and looked down into her face. Her deep blue eyes looked back into his bright ones; she did not flinch. With just a touch of his finger under her chin, he tilted her head up. Slowly, while still carefully looking into her eyes, he came closer and lowered his head to hers. His first touch was quick, as a feather across her lips; light and soft. He watched her face as he used his finger to stroke a long curve from her brow, to her temple, around her fine cheekbone to her delicate chin. Then he lightly touched her bottom lip with his finger. She instinctively licked her lips. He bent down and put his lips on hers. The touch sent a thrill through his body and he kept his eyes open so he could watch her, for she was affected, also. He read much in her eyes for she could not hide her longing.

Legolas drew back his head and withdrew his hand so they no longer touched. He was standing so close that she could feel his breath on her face. His bright eyes burned into her as he said, “When I touch you, I feel as though I know you; nay, that you are my heart, and my beloved, as you always have been, and always will be.” Confusion appeared upon his fair face as he asked, “How can my heart tell me you are my love, when my mind tells me I know you not?”

Olosulisse closed her eyes and lowered her head. “I knew not that you were of this World. I came to believe that my dream meant my beloved awaited me in the West.” She turned away from him. “I have dreamt of you since I was a child. In that World we are plighted and share much happiness.”

“It is not just my feelings for you, that fills my heart with questions.” He turned her to look at him. “Who are your people? Nowhere do Elves live with Men. How could nothing less than an army rescue you from Barad-Dur?” He had to lift her face to get her to look at him. “Tell me of this fear and danger that weighs on my mind, Olosulisse.”

“We must go back.” Her eyes were downcast but he knew she would offer no explanation.

He walked in front of her, but kept looking back to make sure she was there; the impression that she was going to break into a run and disappear into the forest was strong. “That would be madness,” he thought. Then it came to him that she was fighting some inner demon. As they entered the cave, Filandil approached them, and Legolas marveled at his healing. At this rate, they could leave tomorrow.

Olosulisse took Filandil’s hand in the two of hers and looked into his eyes. She was pleading. His face became firm and he held her eyes. She glanced at Legolas then back to Filandil. Her cheeks flushed bright red; she held her brother’s look defiantly, and then lowered her eyes. Filandil seemed to wince in pain; then he bowed his head.

When Filandil finally looked up at Legolas, there was resignation on his face. “Legolas, you are brave and true, and I must offer my sincerest apology for trying to deceive you in any way.”

Legolas, truly amazed, could only think, “These Elves do live with Men!”

Filandil looked first at Olosulisse, then at Legolas. “You first must understand the doom that will find you, if Sauron learns of our meeting.”

“Sauron may become the doom of all in Middle-Earth. I have fought against his evil for many years. I do not fear him.” Legolas’ face was set and defiant.

“What I tell you now, no other in Middle-Earth has ever been told.” Filandil began, “During the First Age, the great city of Gondolin resided in the Hidden Kingdom, away from Morgoth’s evil. Within its walls the Second Union of Elves and Men came to pass. Using deception, Morgoth discovered Gondolin, and destroyed it. Tuor, son of Huor, led the remnants of its people over the mountains to Nan-Tathren. There, he took them South to the mouths of Sirion to be joined to the company of Elwing Dior’s daughter.”

“Ancient history, known to all…” Legolas frowned.

“What is not known, is that another group, led by Caldor Tuor’s son, did not wish to bind to Elwing, and went North at the Sirion and traveled until they reached the Eredluin Mountains in Forlindon. They crossed the mountains and when they saw the Great Sea, decided to build their new city there: Aesgantie. The increasing threat of Morgoth caused great fear in the city. Strife consumed all. Elf slew Elf. Nargothrond fell, Doriath fell; Thingol and his heir, Dior were slain. Caldor Tuor’s son cried out to the Valar. Manwe took pity on the people of Aesgantie, and extended the power of the Valar over the city. The city became hidden from all save the Valar; and Iluvator gave special Grace to all who dwelt there, Elves and Men. The conflicts of the outer world mattered no more.”

“How was Sauron able to capture Olosulisse?” so far was Legolas’ only question.

“In this World, the power of the Valar begins to weaken. At times, the barrier between Aesgantie and this world can be crossed. When you can see the Wind take form from this side, the barrier is passable. Sauron has grown exceedingly powerful in this age, and not long ago he discovered us. He now sends his Orcs; he seems bent on our destruction. When the barrier lessened this last time, an army of Orcs descended upon us, managing to escape with my sister.”

Legolas then looked at Olosulisse.

Her eyes were haunted as she said, “They needed an Aesgantie female. Sauron seeks a physical form which cannot be harmed; he thought to use me.”

Filandil and Olosulisse looked upon Legolas as he registered this information. Then, “If Sauron already knows of Aesgantie, why keep it a secret any longer? The power of Sauron grows each day. There will come a time when all will be tested. With the power of Aesgantie joined with the forces against Sauron, the Shadow can be defeated!”

At that, brother and sister sadly looked at each other. “We have seen enough bloodshed. In your World, all is strife, pain, and war. We only want peace. The power of the Valar may not be used in this World.”

“But Sauron is at your very door; he sends his Orcs to attack you and takes your people!”

 “We know that he seeks to destroy us, but he has not the power to do so. We will use the power given to us to take our city out of the Circles of this World.”

Suddenly, Legolas knew Sauron’s plan. He had to make Filandil see it also. “That is what he is hoping. With Aesgantie gone, the way to our destruction will be clear.”

“I am sorry that we cannot help. The Valar have already sent the Istari to Middle-Earth to aid in the defeat of the Dark Lord. Do not despair, Legolas. Darkness will not overtake all.”

The words of hope should have lent him encouragement, but Legolas’ heart was heavy. Help would not come from them.

Filandil said, “Legolas, if Sauron finds out that you know of Aesgantie, he will seek to destroy you as he seeks to destroy us.”

“It will not matter, if you leave this World. Sauron only fears that someone may persuade you to take up arms against him.” Still hoping that he may do just that, Legolas asked, “So we begin the journey to your city at daybreak?”

“We thank you, Legolas. We will be ready as the sun rises.”  

Legolas could not shake the feeling of dread that was growing in him. “It is past midday; there are no Orcs out,” he tried to reassure himself. He did not wish to leave the cave; he stood looking at the entrance and cocked his head as if listening. His senses told him that they were yet safe, but the warning held. He wished for a talan in a tall tree, but at this point, any high branch would do. “We should rest now, for by the time light begins to fade, we must reach the safety of the treetops.”

Olosulisse came and stood next to him, also looking at the cave entrance. She was silent. After awhile, Legolas began to feel better. The shadow seemed to retreat, and he began to breathe again. She sensed the easing of his tension and took him by the hand, leading him to her blanket spread on the floor of the cave. He searched her face but saw only a question in her eyes and a shy smile on her lips. He looked over to Filandil who had retreated to his own blanket, and found him watching them. He knew not what passed between brother and sister, but Filandil turned on his side, facing away.

Legolas placed his weapons within reach, and then joined the beautiful She-Elf on the blanket. He moved his body close to hers. He saw her shining eyes looking at his body, then at his face. He lay on his side and appraised her in return. He had not touched her, yet warmth was spreading through his body, and his skin began to tingle. He felt his heart race as he bent down to kiss her. Her lips were warm, soft, and inviting. He looked into her face and saw that she had shut her eyes. He used his tongue and pressed softly into her mouth. She let his tongue in and met it with her own. He slid his body over hers while still exploring her mouth with his tongue. She made a sound deep in her throat, which caused him to intensify his pressure. With an effort he stopped kissing her, looked into her eyes, and started to speak.

She placed her fingers on his lips. “Be at peace; I know your heart is honorable.” Her eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. He saw a question there, as she placed both of her hands alongside his face. “May I join with you?” She looked intensely into his eyes. He was unsure of her meaning, and was about to say something, when he stopped and a look of surprise caused his mouth to open. He looked into her eyes as intensely as she was looking into his.

“Legolas, is it alright?” she whispered. She had entered a thread of herself into his mind.

He felt the presence, and inwardly saw it. “Yes,” he whispered in reply. Then the thread expanded and grew into a brilliant light. He shut his mind’s eye against the light, but in an instant, it was gone. At that same moment he felt her presence. Her scent was of niphredil and she tasted as sweet as honey. He knew immediately her quick wit, joy, and passion. He felt her intertwining with him, until he could no longer ‘see’ her. He started as she reached up and put her lips on his. His mind exploded with the sensation. He felt his reaction and hers. The combination and intensity of this almost sent him over the edge. He kissed her deeply and knew not if the moan that he heard came from her or him. A thought came into his mind, “It does not matter; we are one.” He did not know which of them had this thought.

As she explored his thoughts, she saw his love for her and knew the endless depths of his devotion. She knew that in all the ages of his long life, he would only give his heart once. She found joy in his heart too; it just needed care to spark it. She saw his great passion and knew that when aroused, it was all consuming; she reveled in his Strength and Grace.

He grinned inwardly at her humor; there was laughter and joy everywhere. He beheld her love for him and saw them together through years past. It came to him that Filandil recognized him from seeing him in her mind. Then he realized that he was in her memories: in a breathtaking second, he found himself standing on a balcony overlooking the wall of a great city, and she was in his arms. He knew that this was her home, Aesgantie. It felt as familiar to him as his own home, and the She-Elf he was holding in his arms was dearer than life itself to him. The towers gleamed in the moonlight and the waves crashed onto the shore below. He had never seen the sea before, but the sound was as familiar as his own heartbeat. He did not have to look behind them to know that tall mountains stood there. He had been here many times. There was music, but he couldn’t discern where it was coming from; it was light and lilting, playing softly. As they looked out to the sea, the Wind appeared. It was as golden glitter-dust, lazily making spirals in the sky, then changing and making different shapes as it went along the beach and rose to the wall. It caught the moonlight and reflected it as if made of faceted diamonds, sending light in all directions. Olosulisse exclaimed, “I never tire of seeing it!” Some of the glitter-dust seemed to fall from the sky and landed on their skin. She breathed deeply and laughed. Legolas suddenly felt such intense joy, that he laughed, also! “I would this could last forever!” she whispered as she snuggled closer in his embrace.

“Olosulisse, is this real? It feels real. But this place cannot be; for it is too beautiful.” He turned her in his arms to face him. He saw the light shining from her, and wondered why he had not noticed it before. Then he saw the light emanating from his own body. He saw that the stars were different, close and bright. Then he said, “We have crossed to the Other Side.”

“No, nin hun. This is our Other Side. We have not the same Grace as other Eldar. When you weary, you may journey to the Uttermost West; but in Aesgantie, are the Valar also. Manwe declared that since we would not bind to our brothers while in Arda, we would be sundered from them in the West. Only if we meet Death, does Iluvator take us into the West; and Death only comes to us on the Outside.”

The love that he felt for Olosulisse was even stronger here, in this place. She turned to him and knew his need, for she had the same need. She felt very real, as he touched her. He wrapped her in his arms and drew her close. “Aniron le, Olosulisse.” He kissed her deeply and felt them melt together. His heart sang as joy overtook him.

Suddenly he knew something was wrong. A warning sounded loudly in his mind. He heard screaming, but from a distance. He felt a sharp pain in his chest as though struck, then another. A blinding explosion of light gave way to a roaring darkness; then there was nothing. 

The first thing that he felt was pain. It made him groan, and then he hissed through gritted teeth as he tried to move. He felt something on his face, and then a wave of nauseating dizziness overtook him. He realized that he was lying face down with his head against a rock; he had to get up somehow. Any movement caused the pain in his chest to radiate to every part of his body. Thoughts of Olosulisse and Filandil came to him. What happened? Are they here? He couldn’t move to see the rest of the cave. “I have failed you,” he thought. That pain was as bad as the pain in his chest and head. He must get up and try to follow. He felt sure that the Elves had been taken. Trying to take a deeper breath caused the pain in his chest to explode, and he passed out.

Legolas came slowly out of the depths of darkness; he heard his name being called again and again. It seemed louder each time. “There is something familiar about that voice,” he thought, as he rose further toward consciousness.

“Legolas! Legolas! Wake up!”

He knew the sound of that voice; it made him feel relieved somehow. It wouldn’t let him drift, which was what he most desired. It was relentless and he was becoming irritated.

“Legolas! My friend! Gwador! It is Aragorn! Come back!”

Now he knew. Swimming up toward consciousness, the pain came back with a vengeance. He had to work at getting his eyes to open. When he accomplished this, and was able to focus them, he saw the worried face of Aragorn. Legolas found that he could not get his body to move. He tried to speak, but could only groan. He tried to focus on Aragorn’s face, but it kept blurring. He mercifully fell back into darkness.

Aragorn turned to Elrohir, “I cannot save him, and he will not make it to Rivendell. Lothlorian is closer.” He made a swift decision. “Halbarad shall take some of the Dunedain and follow the Orcs. We must discover what is afoot in Mordor. A daylight attack by Orcs means peril may come upon us soon.”

“Elladan and I will ride with you.”

Aragorn’s face was grim. Then, “I sent Legolas to gather information on Sauron’s movements. He has much to tell, if he survives.” He looked at the rest of the cave. “Legolas had company in here; two Elves. It looks as though the other Elves were taken and Legolas left for dead.” Aragorn admitted, “Indeed, I thought him dead when I discovered him.” The wounds were vicious; an Orc arrow had pierced his back on the right side; a deep sword wound was apparent on his left side; he had a crushing wound on the back of his head. Aragorn read from the signs that the Elves had been surprised in their cave, and from the location of his wounds Legolas had been attacked from behind. But Aragorn could not believe these signs, because it was impossible to surprise Elves, especially this Elf. He only had questions, which he hoped his friend would answer.

The Rangers guarding the borders of the Shire had seen the Orc army passing with a company of fighters in pursuit. Aragorn had been far into the wild but moved quickly when he received the information. He gathered the Dunedain and tracked the pursuers. Pure luck had caused them to stumble upon the cave that hid his wounded Gwador.

Elladan came in, “Two leagues from here is a battlefield strewn with Orc and a grave. There was the first assault. Here was the second.”

Aragorn tended the Elf as he was able; if only he could keep Legolas alive until they reached Lothlorien. They carried the Elf out to Aragorn’s horse. Elrohir handed Legolas up to Aragorn when he had mounted. He wrapped his arm carefully around the Elf’s body and urged his horse forward. Legolas was limp as though dead; Aragorn feared for his friend. “Legolas, stay with me. Do not leave,” he pleaded into the Elf’s hair. He rode as fast as he dared; Elladan and Elrohir were on either side of him.

They saw no sign of Orcs and made good time. They rode through the night and reached the outskirts of Lothlorien. Aragorn’s concern had grown, as Legolas had made no movement since they had mounted. He pulled up his horse as Haldir appeared before him. “Haldir, we are in need of help. Legolas has been wounded.”

Haldir frowned as he saw the limp body that Aragorn was holding. “The Lady of Lorien awaits you in her dwelling. Lord Elrond arrived during the night.”

Aragorn felt a rush of joy, when he heard this news. “There is hope, Legolas! Lord Elrond is here; you will be Healed!” He pushed his horse ahead into the forest of Lothlorian.

As he rode up, two Elves approached him and took Legolas. Aragorn and the Sons of Elrond followed them into the dwelling. Legolas was placed gently on the bed; Elrond went to his side. Galadriel stood at the end of the bed.

Legolas stirred and cried out, “Olosulisse!”

Aragorn looked at Galadriel. “’Sweet spirit vision’? What does it mean?”

Her eyes held a secret as she said, “To hear the Sea is now his doom, Elessar.” Then Galadriel turned to face him, “The Prince of Mirkwood no longer walks alone.” 

Elrond’s ministrations brought the fair Elf back from the brink of death. He opened his eyes to a soothing darkness that was only broken by a single lit candle. Legolas could not think of where he could be at first, and then it came to him. He remembered unbearable sweetness and light, then excruciating pain, then the sound of Aragorn’s voice calling to him. He took a deep breath as he remembered Olosulisse and Filandil. This sent a sharp pain throughout his chest.

“Lord Elrond has said that you may not yet get up, Legolas.” Galadriel was standing at the foot of his bed, looking at him.

Legolas felt the pain in his heart stronger than the pain in his chest. “But I must get to Mordor! I know that Olosulisse and Filandil are captive in Barad-Dur! “

She moved around the bed to stand beside him. Her deep blue eyes looked into his. Her face was emotionless, but her voice was gentle, “They are in Barad-Dur no longer.” When Legolas protested and tried to rise, she said, “Rest easy, Legolas. They suffer no more at the hands of Sauron. The Shining Wind will never more be seen in Middle-Earth. The City of the Others by the Sea exists no longer within these Circles.”

Legolas turned his head into the pillow and cried out in anguish, as he understood what happened to his Love and her brother. His grief was inconsolable. He wept tears until they would come no more. He did not want to live. Even the golden beauty of Lothlorien meant nothing to him. He saw only pain and darkness, and felt only emptiness and despair without she who had kindled a fire in his heart. It seemed his blood would not flow in his veins; he could not move, but only stared out the window. Aragorn tried to console him, but Legolas was deep in mourning, and could not acknowledge his friend. The Ranger was concerned and would not leave his side. After awhile, he gave up trying to reach him, and just stayed beside him, occasionally touching his arm, or holding his hand.

Legolas did not know how long he had been in Lothlorien; he had lost all track of time. But the careful touch and patient concern of Aragorn worked its way into his broken heart. He slowly turned his head to see an exhausted Aragorn half sitting in a chair and half lying on his bed. Aragorn’s outstretched arm was flung across the Elf’s body protectively and his head was beside Legolas’ chest. His devotion to this Man broke through his grief, and began to heal him. Legolas sighed as though a weight had been lifted from him; then he went to his favorite green meadow. He turned himself inward toward the trees and green grass, and then gasped and cried out with joy as a beautiful black haired She-Elf ran toward him with her arms outstretched, laughing. She took his hands and smiled at him as her sea blue eyes twinkled merrily and she said, “I have long awaited our meeting, melamin.”

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