They had been on a hunt, not a chase. Gimli tried to whisper this to Legolas bitterly whenever he managed to catch up with the Elf. Led, he added, not by a warrior but by a madman driven by some feverish need to do the impossible.

The Mirkwood Prince did not answer him once, only stared at him poignantly and soon enough the Dwarf stopped his attempts to find an accomplice in the Elf, though he would not stop muttering to himself. By the second day, Legolas would actually listen – discreetly, so as not to offend the Dwarf – to these bouts of rumbling to amuse himself.

They were tracking down the Hobbits and the Orcs who had carried them. Legolas had already seen Aragorn in battle and he knew it was not the same young, inexperienced man he had practiced with before. He knew that his lover had already sensed these thoughts that were forming in his mind, and he was glad for it. Aragorn needed to know how capable he was, despite the disbelief the Elf was still sensing in him.

Once, only once, the Dunedain looked back at him. Legolas met his gaze, sternly. ‘Yes, lover,’ he was saying, ‘you have no other choice but believing me. You must, for I – and no other – will never deceive you.’

Aragorn turned his head back.

The man knew now, not only was there a mission they still had to complete, but also that Legolas fully trusted he could guide them to its successful accomplishment. It amazed Aragorn that this was coming from his lover, the same lover whom he led, unbeknownst to him, into his own death. And Legolas loved and trusted him still. Aragorn's pace did not give way, but something wasn't quite as frantic in his eyes, which were searching the horizon for any sign of the Orc party.

It was an odd looking clearing they found themselves in after their run in with the Rohirrim and Aragorn leaned in, deciphering the secrets the ground held and reading it like a book. Legolas watched and realized that Aragorn's Ranger skills had evolved beyond those of an Elven warrior, who were connected to nature but no longer lived in it.

The trails lead them to the forest. Legolas examined the trees on its border. It did not seem a place an Elf would want to step into, but here he was, following Aragorn without hesitation.

They walked slowly, fighting to pick up what little light came through the trees' leaves. Aragorn was concerned over the tracks they were following, which made less sense to him that they should have. To Gimli’s surprise, Legolas could understand the murmur of the trees.

“This forest is old, very old,” he said, his gaze drifting over those he was listening to. “Full of memory. And anger.”

The Dwarf raised his axe, but was willing to put it down as soon as Aragorn instructed him to do so. As though the possibility that they would lose the trails of the Hobbits was not enough, the Ranger was now troubled by the tension he sensed in Legolas. He wanted to know what the Elf saw.

Legolas concentrated. “The White Wizard approaches,” was his reply.

“Do not let him speak!” Aragorn commanded. “He will put a spell on us.”

At once, they were alert for the arrival of Saruman, their weapons at hand. But when the figure came out of the trees close enough for all of them to see it, all their weapons were defeated within seconds and Aragorn could feel the pulse of disaster beating in his chest. When the wizard spoke, the man demanded answers regarding the Hobbits’ whereabouts.

The answer he got was familiarly similar to a riddle. It might not have been wise, but he had to ask.

“Who are you? Show yourself!”

I see the man's face and a great sense of respite nestles within me as I see the man in the white cloak, and I know that, in times to come, I may wonder how I had gone on during the time of Gandalf's death. At this very moment, I wonder not and I know who it is I have to thank. The White Wizard's light shines at me and is reflected in all that is around me, but you shine brighter still and my eyes do wander in awe from our wizard to the heartening smile that is spreading on your lips, echoing and magnifying – so I comprehend from you – the one taking hold of mine.

How had I not seen in all this time that you are my strength?

"I come back to you now," I hear Gandalf say and know that a resolution has been born in my heart, that I should never leave your side again, regardless of things wise men believe to be right, for nothing is more right than the connection between us. Whatever may lie before us – danger or routine – we shall face it, always together, "at the turn of the tide."

The end.