* * * * *

Legolas was out of his room early the next morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He paced the dining hall impatiently while the rest of his party ate their breakfast in an extremely slow fashion. After discussing plans the previous night, it had been decided that Legolas, Brilcor, Qualin, Rickon, Burke, and Nayper would spend their day off paying a visit to this "ocean-that-isn't-really-an-ocean," as Nayper called it. Legolas had been ready to go since the sun came up --they'd voted to leave early, after all, in order to make it back before dark-- but it appeared the rest of his companions were enjoying taking their time.

Finally breakfast was finished and the six made their way out to the stables, located above the city where the sloping valley wall was a little less steep. Along the way, Brilcor stopped every couple minutes to examine a rock or a spot in the road or a tree.

After the trillionth stop, Legolas demanded, "Are you bent on keeping me from the sea?" Brilcor burst out laughing.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to snap. You're too uptight, Legolas. Too much like your father," he explained.

Legolas furrowed his brow, "And this is a bad thing?"

"Not for your father, but you're young. Come on, Princeling, lighten up!" The nickname made Legolas shudder. He hated being referred to as a prince, yet Brilcor had insisted on doing it ever since they were little and he wanted to get a rise out of him. "You're young; act it!"

"I'm experienced, though, in--"

"In nothing, and but nothing," Brilcor cut him off. "Don't take life so seriously. There's no point living it if you aren't enjoying it." That advice given, he slapped Legolas on the shoulder and quickened his pace to walk beside Nayper.

Horses were retrieved from the stables and the day's rations distributed among the saddlebags. Legolas was so eager about the day that is made his horse nervous. In an attempt to calm the creature, he quit shifting around and sat still.

The trek across Alrianto was pretty unspectacular. They went straight through the valley, deeming it quicker than going around despite the winding paths that took them up and down the steep sides. The weather was fair and only as afternoon approached and they neared the water visible some distance off by the Elven members of the party did the sun overhead grow to be slightly uncomfortable. The heat was greater in southwest Arda than up in Middle-Earth.

Legolas was only slightly interested in the passing scenery --mainly plains once out of the valley-- instead searching for the ocean and keeping his eyes glued to it once he could make out the faint blue line.

They arrived a little after noon, at the hottest time in the day, and there were no complaints as Burke suggested eating lunch before exploring. Legolas would have liked to eat on the sandy bar right underfoot of the ocean, but Rickon and Burke convinced him to stay a little further back. The sand, they pointed out, got everywhere.

Legolas was finished eating in a second and, abandoning his companions, walked lightly over the sand to stand at the water's edge, just out of the waves' reach. He stared out at the tranquil water, calmly rocking back and forth, glistening under the sun.

He felt water seep through his boot and looked down to see that he'd misjudged the distance. Taking a half-step back, he watched the water rush in again, gurgling and bubbly, only to pause a second, then flow back out, colliding with incoming water and creating small eddies.

With the next incoming roll, he bent down and dipped his fingers in the cool water. It didn't feel any different than inland streams. He looked over his shoulder and, convinced that no one was watching, brought his fingers to his mouth. He made a face --it was too salty for his taste, though Gimli would probably enjoy it. If the beaches of Middle Earth were anything like this, he'd have to take the dwarf to visit. Maybe they could even build a boat and...but dwarves weren't allowed in Valinor.

He stood again and called back to his friends, "I'm going to walk around."

"You do that," Rickon waved back.

"Enjoy yourself!" Brilcor added. Nodding towards them, he turned and began walking along the beach.

The view didn't really change. To his right the seemingly endless expanse of blue (though, according to the Alriantans, it was merely a gulf and didn't spread out to endless until pinching in between two points) and to his left miles upon miles of green. It was an odd place to be.

As he walked, he thought about what he was going to do. The sea seemed to have that affect on him: it made him thoughtful. He wondered over what Brilcor had said about him being too much like Thranduil. Was he? Was he too serious? Would acquaintances say behind his back how dour and lifeless he seemed? Sure, events such as seeing massacre in battle, going on a journey such as he had could dampen the spirit a little, but it had been worse for the hobbits, he supposed, and they weren't much changed. Even Aragorn, or, rather, King Elessar, laughed frequently and relaxed.

"I'm too compassionate," Legolas explained to both himself and the ears of nature. "I feel things too deeply. I want to fix all the problems of the world." The waves did not reply, merely continued to roll.

"Perhaps if I had something to occupy time and mind. Something other than boring politics and mindless errands. Perhaps if my life had a plot other than to wander around aimlessly looking for one." He dragged his toe in the sand.

The murmur of water crawling over the rocks and shells seemed to reply, "You've fulfilled your purpose. You played a large character in the story of saving Middle-Earth."

"Yes, but that book is closed. Or, chapter, rather. It can only be a chapter, or maybe several chapters. Elves are immortal and that means...that means a cursed life. No, not cursed, merely unending and tiresome." He stopped and stared out at the thin line where sky met water. "And what do you do when a book gets boring? You close it and pick up another one."

Legolas shook his head and laughed, rubbing his forehead. A sea breeze flew by and sent his hair dancing around his face, whipping lightly at his cheeks. Pushing it back behind his shoulders, he tugged at his collar --a random reminder of his youthfulness.

"That's a horrible metaphor. It's a blessed thing I'm no writer, nor thought to be one. Besides that it's inaccurate. You can't pick up a new life as easily as a new book. If I'm to follow this pathetic comparison of life to books, then it would really rather be a journal: not finished yet. So what do you do when your journal's dreary?"

Once again Legolas shook his head and chided, "I shouldn't have tasted the water. I've heard drinking salt water can make you go insane, though I would have thought it would take a lot more."

He was silent for a couple minutes, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply the warm air with its salty spice. Seeing that he wasn't likely to find anything to interest him on this route, he turned back and returned to the spot where he'd left his companions.

Legolas found them in various forms of entertainment. Brilcor, Rickon, and Burke had all abandoned clothing and jumped into the water. He saw all three heads bobbing far out, disappearing occasionally as they ducked underwater, then rose again, often sending flying streams of seawater at each other in playful leisure. Nayper and Qualin, a little more conservative, reclined on the shore, chatting amid studying the beautiful variety of shells and gathering a collection to carry back to Kirsoden.

"Legolas!" He looked out at Rickon in the water. "Come swim with us, Eron! Come see the sea from the inside!"

Legolas shook his head, pretending not to hear Brilcor order, "Enjoy yourself!"

"I'm going to walk over that way. Maybe when I get back," he replied, and followed up on his words. Hoping to maybe find something of more interest on this side, he attempted to clear his mind and just enjoy the fact that he was walking beside the sea, though he was slightly disappointed to find no sea gulls.

He'd walked some distance, mind lost out on the ocean, when he, embarrassingly enough, stumbled on something hard, out of place on the soft sand. Looking down, he recognized a large log of finished wood, perhaps five feet in length and broken on both ends in jagged teeth. Where had this come from? His ears picked up as a deep groan similar to that of the Fangorn Forest floated on the air. His eyes jerked up, out to the water, and that's when he saw it.

* * * * *

"Hey, Rowan?"

"Hey, Kai?"

"What are you going to do?"

"'Bout what?"

"With those things you're collecting. Are you going to try to free us?"

Rowan didn't answer for a minute. She pulled more of the cotton off of the bush, trying to ignore her bloody fingers staining the white material red. It was miserable work, which is probably why Warian kept insisting she do it. Not only was it hot beyond reason, the sun beating down as you walked along shadeless rows, but the sharp brambles on tall plants bit at your hands and every-so-often seeds would spring up into your eyes when you ripped a chunk of cotton off.

She finally replied, "I'm not going to try. I'm going to do it."

"All of us?"

"No."

After a minute, Kai whispered, "Who, then?"

"I don't know. The children."

"Am I a child?" Kai inquired. He jumped as a thorn pricked his hand and stopped momentarily to pull it out.

Rowan nodded, "Yes."

"What about you?"

"That depends," she shrugged. "If there's still more people to free, I'll stay here."

"Then I'll stay with you."

"What's your gig, kid? Do you always cling like this?"

Kai shook his head, "No. You're just special." He gave Rowan a sideways grin. She laughed and shoved him playfully.

"Enough talk about that, though. I'll tell you what you need to know and when. Who knows, there may not even be hope for this place. But, onto other thoughts. How's your cotton coming?"

"Not so good," Kai made a face, looking down at his basket. "I don't think I'm going to pick enough."

Rowan assured him, "Don't worry about that. If worse comes to worse, I'll give you some of mine."

"But what if you don't have enough?" She raised her eyebrow at him, then turned around so he could see the basket mounted on her back. It was almost full. "How do you do that? Pick so much? Doesn't it kill your hands?"

"Yep. Just focus on something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know; sing a song."

"I don't know any songs. You sing me something."

"I'm not a singer," Rowan laughed. "I was hoping you were. Um...make up a story."

"About what, being a slave?"

Rowan stayed her hand in midair and glared at Kai, "You are impossible."

"Just like you, huh?" She threw her head back and laughed.

"A thorn in my side," she mumbled, then began telling a story.

* * * * *

At supper, Rowan took her food, then sat beside Kai. He was tearing into his food --so little wasn't good for a boy in the prime stages of growth. He needed more. Rowan sighed deeply and pushed the chunks of potatoes around on her plate. Potatoes were suppose to be a treat, but she didn't have much appetite.

"Here, take this," she instructed, shoving her plate towards her.

Kai looked at her oddly, "What?"

"Take it: the food. I'm not hungry."

"What do you mean you're not hungry. You did the work of two slaves today," he argued.

Rowan shrugged, "I must have worked off my appetite." She shoved the plate closer. Kai pushed it back.

"I won't take your food." He added with a laugh, "Who's going to take care of me if you starve?"

"At least take the bread," she encouraged. "Please."

"If you'll eat the rest."

"Fine, fine," she consented. He took the piece of bread off her plate and inhaled it in one bite. When he wasn't looking, she scraped some of the potatoes onto his plate, and he never knew the difference. He was finished before she, so while he was off putting his plate away, she looked around for her ward of the day. Spotting a little girl she hadn't fed in a while, she walked strategically behind the child, sitting quietly beside her mother.

Knocking her fork off her plate, she watched it bounce under the woman's bench, as did the mother.

"Oh, terribly sorry. Could you get that for me?" Rowan asked with as sweet a smile as she could. It no doubt looked viscous. The woman glared and mumbled under her breath but did lean down to retrieve the utensil. While thus bent over, Rowan quickly scooped the contents of her plate onto the little girl’s.

The little girl's eyes widened and she giggled with excitement. It had been a couple weeks since she'd been chosen to receive the extra helping of food. Rowan just winked at her and held a finger to her lips. As she walked off with her fork, the mother continued mumbling about the obnoxious slave, completely oblivious to the extra food on her child's plate.

Rowan had been doing that since her arrival: skipping supper and giving the food instead to a random child. She didn't care so much about the adult slaves, since they were almost all of them stupid and stubborn and suspicious people, but the children were innocent enough. It wasn't their fault, really, that their parents were wicked people, and it certainly wasn't fair for them to starve. It wasn't the adults, after all, that would hopefully live to see freedom --they'd already died long ago, when they'd buried their hope.

There was more work until after sundown, and then weary slaves trooped back to quarters for sleeping. Rowan climbed up to her bunk and sat there, trying not to rub her back, when Kai came sprinting over. She watched him curiously as he leapt up onto her bed and motioned for her audience.

"Calm down, Kai. Keep your head on."

He gulped and shook his head and leaned in to whisper into her ear, "That stuff under your mattress: someone found out and told." She jerked away and looked at him. He pulled her back and continued, "I don't know who, but Warian found out and the slave-master's going to check your bed tonight."

"When?"

"I don't know. But, Rowan, think what they'll do when--"

"Hush. First, calm down," she ordered. He nodded and attempted to take a couple deep breaths. "Second, they won't find anything."

"But--"

"Just calm down, all right? Now, go to your bunk and act like nothing's out of the ordinary or they'll suspect something. Okay? Go." He looked doubtful, but did as he was ordered.

Rowan waited patiently until activity in the cabin had died down. Once this had occurred, she noiselessly slipped off her bunk and pushed her mattress up. Creating a basket with her skirt, she pulled everything out of the hiding place. The books, three plates, two knives, a dagger, four arrows with oddly-coloured feathers, a whip, a small bag of some type of herb, a vial of poison, a short rope, and three gold tips lifted from the ends of Warian's canes. Her treasures secure, she glanced around for any movement, then slipped out the door.

The night was silent, though gathering clouds overhead blotted out the stars and moon and thick fog had quickly crept over the grounds. Though she had incredible sight, even her eyes had their limits. Squinting to see as far as possible, she looked for any light. There, someone was slowly and unsurely picking their way towards the barracks. Rowan held her hand out, blocking the light from her view, and closed her fist. She listened and heard cursing. Cracking her hand open only a slight bit, not wanting to be spotted, she smiled with relief to see a sliver of light. Whoever had originally owned the light, no doubt the slavemaster off to persecute her, was forced to turn back and stumble through the fog to get another light.

She walked as quickly as she could without making noise and, once sure she was away from the person, opened her hand. The small flame played on her hand, flicking just as it would on a candle. It's dim light did little to light her path, but it provided atleast close-up sight so that she was able to avoid running ungracefully into any trees and branches.

Working quickly, she picked her way through the forest to the small lake she frequented. Once there, she paused momentarily and just took in the scene. It was freakishly beautiful. The moon appeared through the fog a light, just barely illuminating the cloud smothering the land. Over the water, though, the white mess seemed rather silvery, hovering inches above the surface. Little disturbances, wanderers of the night, created pockets of clarity in the air, while their dancing on the water created ripples in the fog. Rowan half expected to look out over the water and see a ghostly couple dancing to an unheard melody. It was a very haunted atmosphere.

Shaking the reverie off, she hurried to shove the things in the hollow trunk of a tree. Several other items belonging to her were already hidden then. The work done, she turned to leave, but movement stopped her. Not little movement in the fog, no, a life-size movement.

Turning slowly, she froze, hands half-raised. Hm. How odd. She squinted her eyes, but the figure was still there. The figure of a man, standing several feet out on the water, though not disturbing the surface.

"Wha..." she started, stepping slowly forward.

He looked familiar, yet she couldn't recognize him. He was relatively tall, taller than her at least, with a sturdy frame and broad shoulders. Dark hair pulled back framed a tan face with dark eyes. His wardrobe was not dissimilar from a slaves, though a little nicer than Warian allowed on this plantation, and with the addition of a flimsy-looking sword grasped in his left hand. The thing was thinner than any she'd ever seen and looked like it'd snap under the slightest pressure. He had a wild look on his face, though tired, like he was weary from fighting.

"You aren't..." she started again, then jumped and jerked her head as a twig snapped to her right. When she turned back, the man was gone, nothing left to show that he'd even been there.

Rowan sighed and shook her head, "I've officially lost it. This can't be good." That said, she turned and trooped back to the barracks.

* * * * *

Nayper and Qualin looked up as Legolas came hurdling towards them, sand flying up behind him. He ground to a halt beside them, a worried look on his face.

"What's gotten into you?" Qualin asked, looking away from the shell he'd been studying.

"There's a boat. A ship, rather, and very large, but--"

"A ship, what? What's a ship doing here?" Nayper thought outloud.

Legolas shook his head, "It's wrecked. It's broken apart and pieces of it are all over the bar."

Both the listeners stood up and Nayper encouraged, "Are there any survivors?"

"I don't know. I didn't look." While Nayper continued to look concerned, Qualin strode over to the water's edge and waved at the bathers. After some yelling back and forth, they came back in shore and dressed as Legolas explained what he'd found.

"All right, Legolas. Let's go see this boat of yours," Rickon sighed. They all followed Legolas, lengthening their steps to keep up with his hurried pace.

The ship soon rose up into view and immediate awe seized all faces. It was a very large ship --larger than any of them had ever seen, though that could be understood since none spent much time at harbours, really. By reality’s standards, it was a normal enough sized ship. At one time three masts had towered overhead, dangling giant white sails to the wind. Not anymore, though. All three had been broken off and into pieces, scattered over the shore, floating in the water, or crashed through the deck. The hull was beaten and blasted, large holes allowing cargo to flow out and beach itself.

"What...what in the world..." Burke mouthed. Legolas looked at them, then took the initiative and continued towards the ship.

Brilcor noticed him going first and called out, "Hey, what are you doing?"

"Going to see if there's anyone onboard," he answered, not even looking back. It was only a second before the rest of the party scrambled after him.

Though definitely beached, it was still a bit of ways out into the water before one came to the hull. Legolas continued straight out into the water, ignoring his wet clothes. The water never got above mid-chest; by then he'd reached the hull of the ship and stared up at the large expanse over wood reaching far overhead. He searched for some way to get up but found nothing.

Burke reached him first and, seeing the dilemma, voiced, "How are we going to get up?" Legolas reached out with his hands and felt the wood. It wasn't completely smooth: there were rough chinks throughout it, knots in the wood, gaps between boards where the caulking had disappeared, and large holes where something had slammed through would provide occasional support.

Feeling around with his hands for holds, his fingers finally found atleast a minimal grip. Pulling himself him, his fingers burning almost immediately from the pressure, he forced himself up. It was like climbing a tree...sort of.

The going was hard, though it got easier the higher he got. Within minutes, during which Brilcor and Qualin followed his example, he'd made it to the deck of the ship. Before even surveying his surroundings, he located a rope ladder, happily right beside him, and threw it down for Burke, Nayper, and Rickon.

Once everyone was safely on deck, they looked around, horror claiming their features. It was a gruesome scene. Though only a couple bodies could be seen, sticky blood coated the deck and weapons were strewn about carelessly. Obviously a struggle had taken place.

While most of their companions went up to the higher deck, Legolas and Brilcor went down. It was mainly dark beneath, though sunlight through the holes in the ships exterior and via the doorway illuminated portions. It was abandoned underneath, and ghostly looking. More blood, though not as much. Overturned tables and chairs in some rooms, ripped clothing and strewn belongings in others. A few more bodies. One old man was laying in a bunk, dead, gripping a flask to his chest like a warrior might a sword. Stab wounds laced his stomach, yet he rested peacefully. Another man, large in stomach and bald, was tossed over a wooden chest. When Brilcor and Legolas turned him, they found a strange hole in his forehead, blood dripped from the wound.

"What injury is this?" Legolas questioned, looking closer. It was neither arrow nor sword, that was for sure. Brilcor had no answer.

Finding nothing, they returned to the deck to see the others spread out, searching various corners of the top. Nayper and Qualin had taken another way under deck to the hold.

Legolas approached Rickon, standing on the stairs to the upper deck, and asked, "What's in there?" pointing to doors underneath the upper deck.

Rickon shrugged, "Dunno. The doors are locked and I don't fancy opening them without a sword. What's locked up should probably stay locked up." He wandered back up to high deck.

Legolas felt drawn to the doors. He tried to turn the handle, but they were indeed locked. Thinking for a moment, weighing his actions, he took a step back. Then, gaining some momentum, he kicked hard at the door right beside the handle. One more kick and the door slammed open. He picked up a sword abandoned beside him, stained in a blood, and made a face --not at the blood, but at the make. It was so thin; surely it wouldn't be able to accomplish anything in combat. Nonetheless, he held it out and stepped warily into the cabin.

The inside was just as torn up as below deck. A chandelier had been ripped off the ceiling and apparently burned the curtains and several others draperies in the process. A giant painting had been slashed and half burned. The table was overturned, the chairs smashed to pieces, books torn to shreds and tossed about. There were strange small holes in the wall, about the same size as in several of the bodies. He watched for any movement, but found nothing.

Just as Legolas was about to leave the room, deeming it empty, he noticed a pair of boots sticking out from behind a chest of drawers. It was probably another dead body, which he wasn't too eager to see, but to quell his curiosity he decided to inspect anyway.

There was blood on the floor leading to the boots; the body had obviously been dragged. Bloody handprints on the wall and on the furniture hinted that the body had still been alive at that time. Legolas peered around, expecting death.

Close, but no cigar. There was indeed a body, bathed in blood, laid down in hiding. The face was pale, but dark brown eyes stared back at Legolas through slitted lids. They blinked. Definitely not dead.

"Are you alive?" Legolas asked, a pointless question. The man had not the strength to answer, but loosened his grip on the odd contraption in his hand. The eyes blinked again. Legolas leaned over and checked the man's pulse: still there. It was possible to save this man. "I'm going to get you out of here," Legolas explained, assuring him, "I mean you no harm. I will be as careful as I can." The man managed a small nod.

First Legolas shoved the furniture way, the body shifting a little as half its support disappeared. Kneeling down, he wrapped the man's arm over his shoulder and carefully pulled him up. It was carrying dead weight, since the man could give little support, but Legolas managed to carry him out of the room and out on the deck.

"I found someone," he announced, grabbing everyone's attention. "He's still alive." Immediately all those on deck sprinted over while Rickon went below to get Nayper and Qualin.

"We've got to get him back to Kirsoden," Legolas stated needlessly. "Quickly."

Burke hurried to get on the man's other side and offered a reassuring smile to the wounded man who could hardly hold up his head. They managed to walk him to the side by the time the last three of their party returned.

Nayper looked over the side and commented, "This could be a problem. He can't climb down the ladder and it's too shallow to drop him. Unless one of us can climb without hands..."

Legolas' eyes darted around the deck until he spotted a smaller boat hanging over the side, suspended in the air by ropes. He pointed there and everyone seemed to understand. It took several more minutes to change direction and carry the man over to the smaller boat, then load him in. Once all seven were onboard, Brilcor and Rickon fiddled with the ropes, trying to figure out which ones to pull or untie to slowly lower the boat.

Unfortunately, they were terrible at the guessing. Brilcor untied one rope and immediately the back end of the boat began to fall, but not the front. He grabbed the rope, suspending the boat at an odd angle. Rickon glared at him, then tried pulling on a rope. They started going up. He untied a rope that looked like perhaps the other end and slowly began letting that out; the front half slowly began lowering. Brilcor tried to guess which ropes did the same on his side, but Burke figured it out first and pointed it out to him.

They were perhaps halfway down the height of the ship when something --be it the wind or some dark spirit-- sent the smaller boat slamming towards the hull. To prevent collision, Brilcor and Rickon simultaneously let go of the ropes. Bad idea. The smaller boat rapidly gained speed and free-fell the rest of the way to slam painfully on the surface of the water. The water they'd displaced came splashing over the side, adding too much weight.

It was quick work to get ride of this threat, then everyone took a breather and rubbed various sore body parts while glaring at Brilcor and Rickon. Legolas, Nayper, Burke, and Rickon took the four oars and, after some confusion as to timing and all, got into a syncopated pace.

"Let's just take the boat back to the horses. It'll be easier than trying to drag him along," Qualin voiced the plan. It was agreed and took less than half the time for the boat to glide back to where they'd left the horses. Brilcor and Nayper jumped out and pulled the boat out while Rickon and Qualin ran to gather up camp. Legolas stepped out of the boat, then, between himself and Burke, eased the man out of the small boat.

It was a matter of minutes before camp was packed up and the company mounted horses. Legolas claimed the man as riding partner, though it took him and three others to get the limp man up. The stranger groaned, the first sound they'd heard him make, and closed his eyes, but otherwise offered no complaint. Once Legolas had mounted behind him, supporting his weight, he fell silent.

"All right, men. Let's ride like the wind," Rickon ordered, taking the lead. Spurring his horse, he took off, the rest close behind.

* * * * *

Legolas waited impatiently in the library, paying no peticular attention to anything. They'd made record time back to Kirsoden, brought their find before the Royal Bureau and given him immediate medical treatment. The Bureau majority themselves weren't so concerned with the man and didn't care to hear the story, but two, Cantin and Ionel, representatives of the two smallest provinces, had been helpful and sought medical help. They were the two kindest, Legolas had already discovered through easy conversation with them, and this action only reaffirmed his assertion.

The "official" doctor of the courts, along with Chontë, an elvish healer come from Middle-Earth, were issued to the stranger and had been in with him all morning. It was Chontë who now found Legolas in the library and broke the silence.

"He's awake."

Legolas looked from the wall hanging to the healer and repeated, "He's awake?"

"Yes. He's not very strong, and hasn't spoken yet, but he's alert," Chontë informed him.

"May I see him?"

"Yes. There's no one in there now except a nurse. Don't keep him long, though. He needs rest if he's to heal." Legolas nodded and left the library.

He paused outside the designated room for a moment, his hand on the door. Inside, a nurse bustled around, clanking plates and fussing with blankets, no doubt. Overzealous nurses were the worst part of being wounded. The moment over, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Seeing him enter, the maid moved out of the way, leaving room for Legolas to approach the bed. He looked down at the man, who now rested clad in a fresh tunic. His face had been scrubbed clean of the blood and his dark hair tied back so that he no longer looked so ghastly. There was a large cut on his cheek, another on his forehead, and his right arm was bandaged, that Legolas could see. He didn't look beyond repair, though, fortunately.

The man's eyes were opened and he looked curiously around the room, apparently confused. Legolas couldn't blame him; he'd no doubt been through a lot, too. While waiting for the man to see him, Legolas studied his face. Something about him looked so...familiar. He knew he'd never seen him before, but the face didn't look strange to him.

When the man's eyes fell on him, the anxious face softened a little and the man visibly relaxed. The nurse bustled over and fiddled with the blanket, then backed off. At this nuisance the man made a slightly annoyed face. Legolas chuckled.

"I see you're doing better," he commented.

The man nodded and, with extreme effort, forced out, "Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for. I did what was right." The man nodded but still smiled graciously. "I won't keep you long, since you're tired." The man nodded again. "I welcome you to Kirsoden, capital city of Alrianto, stranger." The man looked confused --he didn't recognize the name. "I'm a visitor here, as well. My name is Legolas, from Mirkwood up in Middle-Earth, or Etriena."

The man absorbed this, still with his brow furrowed in confusion, but once again made the effort of communication.

"My name's Will Turner, from Port Royal, Jamaica."

Chapter Two || Main || Chapter Four