oOoOoOo

"Aragorn! Riders!"

Waking instantly, Aragorn jumped up from his bedroll and moved swiftly to Legolas's side. The elf directed his gaze to the east, then, gestured in a full circle. Aragorn frowned. The closest riders, to the east, were less than a league off, although barely visible against the rising sun. More men were coming from every direction. They'd been hemmed in during the night.

Legolas sighed. He should have seen this trap long before it was set, but he'd taken only one watch, early in the night, acquiescing to Aragorn's decision to let his escorts perform the task. The king had not been happy that his queen insisted he bring a bodyguard, and he'd thought they ought, at least, make themselves useful.

"Not your fault," Aragorn whispered, reading the elf's mind. "But we're going to be late for dinner. Your father won't be happy."

Legolas rolled his eyes. His father had long since given up expecting timely arrivals.

Ignoring his two companions, Gimli frowned. Aragorn had an aptitude for finding trouble, or trouble had a knack for finding him. Either way, it worked out the same. The dwarf sighed. He'd been looking forward to enjoying the hospitality of the Lonely Mountain by nightfall.

"The terrain offers little cover. We are not likely to eva…." The elf was cut off as one of the king's escorts abruptly tackled him.

"Get down!

Landing in a sprawl face down on the scruffy turf, Legolas regained his feet with as much dignity as possible. Gimli grunted in stifled amusement as the elf glared at the offender.

Aragorn would also have found the disgruntled expression gracing the elf's face entertaining, were it not for the wide-eyed expression of fear on the visage of his man.

"F…forgive m…me, master Legolas," he stammered, quickly scrambling back. "I feared they might spot you."

Legolas's expression softened a little - a very little. The young mortal was the King's escort, not his. If anyone were going to be rudely shoved about in the name of protection, it deserved to be Aragorn.

"It appears they've already spotted us, Eyolf," Aragorn stated, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes, my lord, it just that, well, they are not elf-friends." Eyolf lowered his eyes.

"You know of these men?" Gimli inquired, absently moving to hover beside Legolas.

"They are the Attoari," Eyolf answered.

Legolas's eyes widened at the name, but he quickly composed himself. Catching the fleeting expression, Aragorn absently gripped the hilt of his sword. He hadn't seen such an expression on the elf since they'd faced the balrog in Moria.

"Who are the 'Attoari'?" Gimli questioned.

"Numenorians out of the east, it is said," Eyolf answered, then turned toward Aragorn. "We should depart, my lord."

"It's a little late for that, but let's mount up, at least," Aragorn responded, turning toward Legolas. "Perhaps one of you would like to tell me more about these Attoari while we break camp."

"I know little more of them than you, mellon nin," Legolas declared, avoiding Aragorn's eyes. Aragorn tossed him a skeptical glare. At the very least, the elf clearly suspected something about the riders. Catching the look, Legolas grinned, sheepishly, and met the king's gaze. "I know only of the name out of tales older children tell younger ones to frighten them."

"And these tales say…"

"The tales speak of evil men called the 'Attoari' who patrol the borders of Mirkwood searching for stray elves," said Legolas, unconsciously shuddering. " If they found one alone, it was said they would carry him off to be devoured alive, slowly - over many months, perhaps even years. But that wasn't the worst of it."

Legolas swallowed convulsively.

"It was said that as the Attoari consumed his flesh, the elf's spirit was fed to the darkness and destroyed, thus was never able to journey to the Halls of Waiting."

"Devoured alive?!" Aragorn's face wrinkled with disgust. "What would…?!"

"Legend says they believe in doing so they'll ward away sickness and death," Eyolf answered.

"You've heard these tales?" Gimli eyed Eyolf suspiciously, shouldering the young mortal further away from Legolas. Eyolf shrugged.

"My mother's people were once of the Attoari, but they rejected the practices and were forced to flee. They settled in Gondor."

Gimli grunted softly, his glare hardening. Flinching under its intensity, Eyolf turned back toward the fire to break camp.

Aragorn sighed. A pleasantly uneventful discussion of trade with Thranduil, Bard and Thorin had not seemed so great an expectation when he planned the journey.

oOoOoOo

"Hail, men of Gondor!" Aragorn heard as he mounted his horse. He settled comfortably in the saddle and shared a gaze with Legolas and Gimli - already mounted upon Arod - before glancing up at the newcomers.

"Hail," he returned, as his escorts reached toward their swords.

"Please, my friend, there is no need for weapons," the riders' spokesman pleaded. "I'm am Adil, son of Hrethel. May we speak?"

"Adil, son of Hrethel, I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Aragorn returned. It seemed safer not to mention his title. "What business might you have with us?"

Gimli scowled as Adil hesitated. The Attoari gazed in Aragorn's direction, but the dwarf could see them watching Legolas out of the corner of their eyes.

They are nearly salivating at the sight of him. Gimli thought, with a shudder.

"We wish to inquire as to the price of your elf?"

Gimli growled softly and felt Legolas shift a little.

"Price?" Aragorn repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"I understand you may have some reservation in selling him. Indeed, they are difficult to come by these days, but we have both gold and horses to offer if you'll just name your price," Adil continued.

Aragorn shook his head. "I can set no price, for this elf is not mine to sell. He is a free being, belonging to no one but himself."

Adil frowned and glanced toward his men. The subtle movement sparked the sound of unsheathing metal, as Aragorn and his escorts drew their swords, Gimli patted his ax, and Legolas raised his bow. The Attoari drew their weapons, as well. Most were armed with crossbows.

"Peace…," Adil began, but then gave up. "We do not wish trouble with Gondor, but we will have the elf. It would be simpler if you would name a price."

Aragorn simply scowled. Adil frowned and raised his arm. His bowmen responded by taking aim at all but the elf.

"We do not wish your deaths, my friend," Adil declared, calmly. "But we will have the elf."

Legolas remained outwardly expressionless, but he groaned inwardly. His companions would die before the fight even began.

Gimli felt Legolas twitch toward Adil and quickly grasped what the elf was contemplating.

"Don't you even think it," he hissed into his friend's back.

"How can I not?" Legolas answered, in a barely audible whisper. The Attoari would take him either way; if he surrendered, at least his companions stood a chance of escaping with their lives.

The resigned tone of his friend's voice sent a shudder down Gimli's spine, as did the tales of the Attoari, playing through his mind. These men could not be allowed to take his friend. Legolas would not be denied even the peace of the Halls of Waiting.

"Forgive me, my friend," Gimli choked in a soft whisper. "I cannot let them take you alive."

Legolas' brow furrowed, but before comprehension came, a knife sliced into his back. His gripped tightened on his bow as his arms flew wide and his head dropped back in response to the searing pain. He didn't grimace, though. A look of peace gracing his fair features, Legolas prayed to Mandos to make his journey swift. Then, giving in to the agony, he crumpled from the horse, landing with a hard thud and a soft grunt.

"NOOOOO! What have you done!" Adil screamed, his voice thick with shock and fury. Jumping from his horse, he ran to Legolas's side.

Aragorn's gaze followed him, sword dropping as he saw his friend lying amidst a spreading pool of blood. Flying off his horse, he knelt beside Legolas and scrambled to find a pulse. It was thready, but there, and Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief.

"He lives!" Ran a murmur through the Attaori.

"Not for long enough to be of use to us. Curse you, dwarf!" Adil growled, and rushed toward Arod, but halted as Eyolf's blade pressed against his neck.

"Be off! You've no more business here," Eyolf commanded. Adil sneered, but retreated to his horse. Gathering around Legolas, the men of Gondor barely registered the Attoari's departure.

"Aragorn?" Gimli asked, in small voice.

"Make camp, set a watch," Aragorn shouted at his men. "Eyolf help me."

Jumping down, Eyolf paused long enough to help Gimli off Arod.

"Be comforted, Master Gimli. He would have died much more cruelly by their hands and his spirit would have been deprived of the journey to the Halls of Waiting. This way, at least, he will be at peace. It was a merciful act," he whispered in the visibly guilt-stricken dwarf's ear, before moving to Legolas's side.

Gimli hovered beside the horse, watching as the wound was tended, not daring to move closer. He hadn't missed that Aragorn hadn't answered him, or that his friend determinedly refused to even look his direction. Not that Gimli blamed Aragorn; he wasn't certain he'd ever be able to face himself again, let alone Legolas.

oOoOoOo

A hand resting lightly upon Legolas's arm, Aragorn discreetly watched Gimli. The dwarf still sat beside Arod, on the edge of camp. Aragorn couldn't blame him. The fireside hummed with "backstabber" and "traitor" (and other, less kind phrases). Aragorn couldn't blame the men, either. Sighing, he glanced down at Legolas. To his surprise, the elf's eyes were open and watching him.

"Do not try to speak, my friend," he hushed, as Legolas opened his mouth.

"Thirsty," the elf whispered, in a croak, ignoring him. Aragorn held a cup to his friend's lips, until Legolas weakly twisted his head, indicating he'd had enough. Setting it aside, the king smiled.

Legolas's return smile turned into a grimace as wave of pain washed through him.

"Here," Aragorn whispered, bringing the cup back to his lips. Legolas crinkled his nose at the taste, earning a sympathetic nod from his friend. "It will ease the pain."

"And make me sleep," Legolas added, with a mock-glare.

"You had other plans?" Aragorn returned, raising an eyebrow. Smiling weakly, Legolas carefully shook his head, as his heavy eyelids fell. "I didn't think so."

"Aragorn," the elf whispered, sluggishly. "He meant well."

"I know, mellon nin. I know," Aragorn whispered in reply. "Rest."

Feeling Legolas relax back into sleep, Aragorn sighed and glanced back to the dwarf. Gimli had probably saved their lives - all of their lives, including Legolas's. What he'd done wasn't what the elf would have chosen, Legolas always held to hope…and life, but Gimli had meant well, and, perhaps, acted well. Legolas lives, and will recover. We live, and will recover. How much worse would the outcome have been had he not had the courage to act? Aragorn grudgingly pondered. Whether Gimli's decision had been right or wrong, Legolas had made it clear he didn't begrudge the act. Nor will he be pleased that I abandoned our friend to suffer alone in grief and guilt, Aragorn admitted, with a sigh. Rising to his feet, he strode over to dwarf.

Gimli looked up as Aragorn crouched beside him. He wasn't sure what to expect and flinched as the mortal reached for him, but Aragorn simply gave his shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"Come, my friend. We will watch over him together."

"Thank you…my friend," Gimli replied, chokingly. Accepting Aragorn's offered hand, he pulled himself to his feet and returned Legolas's side.

The End.