Author's note (December2010): I am trying finish and edit/beta/revise this story. All chapters with a title, other than a number, have been revised. Thank you all readers and reviewers. I appreciate of course all the comments and attention, but can't really believe it (This story started as a project when I naively thought it would be easy and quick. Yeah, you can see how that's turned out now) … Anyway. Please enjoy.
The story jumps from past to present (Legolas' childhood, pre-FotR, and to the War of the Ring).

Rating: T/PG13
Warnings: angst, dark themes, character death, slash, mpreg
Pairings: Aragorn/Arwen, Legolas/OMC, Legolas/Éomer
Disclaimer: "The One Ring has only One Lord ... And Tolkien does not share power." Everything sensible belongs to JRR Tolkien. Every error belongs to me.

()()()

Chapter One:
Dreaming

The forest was thick and lurking in the forest were dark shadows. In an old clearing stood three elves, clad in browns and greens. They held weapons in their hands. Two had hair dark as ebony, the last had hair sprung out of starlight.

Blue eyes stared at them through the foliage, wide and uncertain, but the elves were blind to them.

Nearing the group was more than a dousing of large spiders, the creatures which had made Mirkwood well known among people. The Dark forest, where evil lurked around each corner.

The spiders attacked. A knife was not raised in time, poisonous teeth sunk into soft skin and pierced flesh. Blood trickled down a throat. One moment later there was a cry and an arrow pierced the attacking monster; the wounded elf sunk to the ground; the poison already had set in. Swords and other sets of weapons were raised, thrown, slashing through flesh and covering the ground with blood. Cries and shrieks filled the air. It became heard to breathe.

It was raining.

Somewhere among the branches, a child was screaming.

"Penneth, do not cry. Sch..."

His mother's soothing voice pulled him out of his nightmares. The small elfling cradled into the elven lady's lap, burying his fingers in her golden hair and the layers of her nightgown. "Do not cry, my little Lass... Was it another dream?"

Big blue eyes looked up at her. They were filled with unshed tears. The sight broke her heart, and she wished not for the first time that this curse had not been placed upon her son. "Dream...dream bad," he whispered weakly, clinging to her as if she was the last hope in a world of darkness. The small body trembled.

"It will be alright ... Do not think of it more, Little Leaf ... It is over now." She stroke the child's cheek before she laid him in the bed again, covering him with blankets. Kissing him good-night she blew out the candle on the night side table. But when she turned to leave, there was a small whimper.

"Please, don't leave, nana," the child's small voice came from the bed. "Don't like dark. Don't like to be alone..."

A soft smile spread across her lips. She sat down on the bed's edge and took his small hand in her own. It was slightly cold; she started rubbing it, and placed a kiss upon the soft skin. "It is alright, Legolas. Sleep. I am not ever letting the darkness catch you."

Three days later Legolas' elder brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, died by poison caused by a wound in battle with spiders. The blue eyes elfling cried himself to sleep.

()()()

It had been a long, harsh and cold day. The hobbits lay curled up next to each other, seeking warmth and protection from the snow and icy winds. Gandalf had managed to, against all odds it seemed, light up a small fire but it died quickly and they soon ran out of branches and wood to feed it with. Gimli and Boromir had fallen asleep; they needed rest, all of them. Legolas took the first shift of keeping watch, then changed with Aragorn.

He lay down a bit from the others. He did not like to rest. The company of the weather was not adding any comfort, for he was afraid to wake up from nightmares and that they would find out...

He did not want them to find out. The hobbits were young, and they already carried so many burdens, and heaviest of all carried Frodo, the Ringbearer. The dwarf Gimli and Boromir, the man, were no more than travel companions to him. They showed each other respect but there was nothing else, at least not yet, between them. And there was something about Boromir, he could feel it. 'It is the Ring ... it corrupts us all ... and he feels it the strongest.'

He, too, felt the Ring's call, the luring voice during dark nights – within so short reach ... Then he shook his head; he should not think such things and block the voice out. There was much else he had to deal with first.

Maybe joining the Fellowship was a foolish decision – but what could he do now, when they were so far on the road? Turn away? They had not even yet passed the mountains, and Mirkwood ... No, he could not go there.

He was not so sure, but he had a feeling Gandalf knew of his dilemma. 'Ofcourseheknows,' he thought and shifted.'Mithrandirisamaia.Hewouldknow,ofcoursehewould.'

As for Aragorn... Aragorn had been his best friend for years, but yet had he not trusted the man with this. He knew that Estel would start worry and fuss over him, like all those "accidental" injuries over the years, thinking it something that could be fixed with herbs and healing skills and good patience. But it didn't.

A smile spread over his face. He could remember every hunting trip or journey with the man, every time he'd spent with him. It was his brother, he had sworn to protect him no matter what. And Aragorn was the most loyal of friends. 'Maybe one day, I can tell him...But not today.'

When he finally fell into slumber, he also fell into darkness. For a moment, he felt like floating in mid-air, then his bare feet touched stone. Acave...The air around him was thick and cold, it was hard to breathe. It took a long time for his elven eyes to adjust to the darkness, then he could see shadows along the walls. Earth and stone hovered about him. He felt trapped, caged. And it scared him.

It was a dream, again.Notagain.

Large pillars rose high above him, and they were filled with runes and carvings. Dwarven handcraft. Amine...He was in a mine. The chamber he was in was large. Some hundred feet from the nearest pillar was a broken stair, reaching up a floor where it stopped. There were no doors. He was trapped.

The shadows moved. There were clangs of weapons and shrieks of orcs lurking in the darkness around him, but they were out from his sight even though he felt their presences like itches around him and he shivered.

A hot breath touched his neck and he whipped around, to face a large burning creature from a nightmare. Flames licked the ceiling and the walls. In its hand the monster had a whip made of fire. From its gap came deep hot breaths, and floating fire burned its flesh as if it had risen from the fires of Mount Doom.

He wanted to run, to flee, but his limbs would not obey. Run!his mind screamed at him. Run! His hands were trembling. For a moment, the Balrog did not move, nor did he.

Then a loud roar erupted from deep in its throat and feelings and control came back to him, and he turned and fled. His feet seemed not fast enough; he heard the monster come closer by each second. Its steps cracked the floors and made the ground tremble. The stones itself gave under for its weight. His heart beat so loud in his fear that he could not hear anything else. Nothing else than steps, roaring fires, and heartbeats.

For a moment he lost footing, and he fell. But there was no ground under him, nothing between him and the deep dark abyss below. It had no end. Stone cracked and broke. There was a scream.

And he was falling.

Somewhere above were thunder and flames and a clear voice rang out: "You shall not pass!"

Miles away woke a sweating elf, his heart beating wildly and wide blue eyes stared into the surrounding night filled with dread. Snow whirled around him and it took some moments for him to register what had happened, and where he was. Snores from next to him were almost drowned by the sound of the howling winds. Caradhras ... they were at Caradhras. The strong weather had worn them and forced them to a stop.

He looked around, and to his relief, he found that no one had woken. Aragorn was fast asleep next to him, and Mithrandir had taken his place. For a moment, the wizard lifted his eyes and a clear blue gaze from under the bushy eyebrows met the elf's. Mithrandir stared for a moment, but said naught, before he returned his attention elsewhere. Legolas spoke not either, though he doubted it would be heard through the growing, chilling winds.

Legolas wondered, again, if he knew.

()()()

The Lothlórien elves regarded them with silent wonder as they walked into the elven city, for it was not often groups of both mortals and immortals traveled together, nor had they seen beings such as hobbits before. How the prince of Mirkwood came with these people was something Haldir, the marchwarden, was intrigued to ask but refrained from it as the Lady'stalan came into view. The platform bound into the trees was large as a ship deck. Lanterns twinkled from everywhere. In the shadows elev guards hovered, never showing their faces or speaking to the newcomers. Two tall elves clad in gray nodded to Haldir and his men when they passed, giving the fellowship curios looks. They were led onto the center of the platform, and there they waited.

The Lady was really the Lady of the Light; she shone with such power that none except Aragorn perhaps dared to look at her and meet her piercing gaze more than a few moments. Frodo's breath was caught in his throat when she turned her blue eyes to him, and he heard her voice not from her tongue, but inside his mind. She seemed to know everything of him, his strength and his weakness and his secrets, and her voice when she spoke was deeper than women's usually are, filled with wisdom and age beyond his imagination.

'Youbringgreatevilhere,' she had said when they entered the woods. The Ring burned against his flesh where it hang in its chain.

Her husband, Lord Celeborn, spoke slowly to them. His voice was deep and rich.

There was awe in the other hobbit's shining eyes when they looked upon the Lady, as if they had seen a star fall from the sky to land and forest right in front of their noses, but they said no word, nor did Gimli the dwarf or Boromir, the man next to him. Aragorn talked for them, asking for protection.

The Lady's gaze traveled over the company, from each one looking into their hearts and soul, when telling them to rest. Her gaze landed lastly upon Legolas, the only elf of the Fellowship. He meet her blue eyes, not flinching away. 'Iknowyou,' she said in his mind. 'LongtimehaspassedsinceIlookeduponyourface.'

'I know, my lady.'

'You are troubled, Ernil o Taur-nu-Fuin.'

Legolas did not answer, for she already knew why and where his troubles came from. Muttering soothings into his mind, she said farewell to them, and elves led the fellowship to a glade to rest. Not once did her blue gaze leave the prince of Mirkwood, until he was away from sight.

()()()

Legolas eased himself into the water, the warmth lying like a blanket around him. The spring was clear as the night and stars above him; the twinkling lights reflected on the surface. He was glad to wash away the dirt and shadow from the Moria mines from his body. But no water could wash away the shadow that still lingered in his mind. He'd love to close his eyes and rest but he did not dare. Ever since Caradhras, he had been dreaming, the same nightmare playing over and over, and if he closed his eyes, he was afraid that the images would pull him back into the world of nightmares. Maybe it was just silly of him to think thus, that he might not wake up, but in truth, he was afraid.

'Comeon,Legolas,' he told himself. 'Youactasifyouareanelfling!'

He wanted to be a naïve, careless elfling again.

But ... For a moment he shut his eyes and he saw nothing but flames. With a gasp he quickly opened them again. 'Thedreamhadcometrue...andnowMithrandirisgone.' He cursed under his breath, feeling anger and guilt build up inside of him. He was so weak.'Ishouldhavetoldhim!Iknewitwouldhappen!Why,whycouldInottell?Ifjust...'

He buried his face in his hands. Did it even matter now? Gandalf was dead, and it was his fault.

'I could have hindered it, stopped it, done something ... I knew ...'

()()()

Lord Celeborn took her hand. She rested her eyes on him, her frame seemed to sink and the shine fade and then, she was only Galadriel and nothing else.

"It is theprinceyou are worried for," he said. He knew his wife very well, but only when she was Galadriel and not the Lady, he could read her.

"I am. Did you felt it?"

Celeborn sighed. "I did."

"It is not only the Dreams I am talking of, Celeborn," she said. His grave expression softened into a surprised one, but then he frowned. Galadriel led him up the stairs to their personaltalan, demanding privacy. "You know very well why he has these dreams," she continued.

"Is there any way to stop them? He has hurt himself of it before and he will do it again," Celeborn interrupted while releasing her hand. The Ring on Galadriel's finger had faded in light.

She smiled sadly. "No, there is not. But, that is not the only thing that troubles him – do you not feel it? There is a new Light in him which I have not encountered before."

Celeborn's eyes widened slightly. "My lady, you do not mean ... This has not happened for ages."

She looked away from him, out of the window overlooking the gardens. Below, it was peaceful, a rest that went undisturbed by the evil of the world but only to the eye. The elves were restless and the woods shrinking, the lights and laughter fading like sunlight at sundown. It unsettled her too, but the discovery she had made today rekindled some hope that light might yet return to the world.

"I know. But I believe he is aware of it ... I saw it in his eyes and in his soul. It is not only one Life that shares his heartbeats now. But he is doubting himself ... If Mithrandir knew we cannot know now, for he hath fallen. Aragorn is strong for a man and Legolas trust him as a friend, but not on this matter. Neither he or the others of the fellowship knows of this. I dare not say what will or could happen, if this secret becomes no longer a secret ..."

Knowing where she was getting at, Celeborn nodded. "They would not let him continue," he said. "There are risks."

"Risks he is willing to take," Galadriel offered, turning to face her husband. His eyes held doubts and disbelief and the hope there was fading.

"So you believe him ready for this?"

There was a slight pause. "Aye ... I foresaw new times of light coming, but I must admit, that Legolas was a Lifecarrier came as a surprise for me," she said with a soft smile, looking at her husband. "I must speak to him of this matter before he leaves."

Celeborn nodded. "And what of the prince's father? Should I alert the King of Mirkwood?" Eru help him if that was so; if this had been done without Thranduil's knowledge ...

Galadriel pondered the question for a moment, before she spoke; "Let me speak to the prince first, my lord. This is his choice, after all."