“You kept your promise,”
        The words broke the silence the trio had kept in starting their journey as promised in the early morning. Legolas turned his head, willing himself to look at Aragorn almost expecting the perceptive man to see through his façade if he continued to swear his mind was not under any nightmares clench.
        “I had sweet dreams,” Legolas managed to spin his lie effortlessly.
        “As did I,” Aragorn sighed under his breath.
        Legolas couldn’t find a meaning in Aragorns words, the Ranger strode ahead of the elf thus taking lead in the trio. Gimli followed behind, a pattern of growls, making up his dwarf humming. Legolas was the middle wondering why Aragorn would find it offensive to make any nod toward dreaming of Arwen. It would be nothing new to Legolas as he knew Aragorn longed for Rivendell and his own Princess - Royalty to royalty as each to his own.
        Legolas now in the middle, alone, kept pace evenly between Gimli and Aragorn as they traversed rocky terrain. They were now on a bare road heading toward what looked to be wee mountains. The location didn’t matter, the terrain didn’t matter; all that mattered to the elf with a furrowing and determinedly morbid brow was when night would fall. When night fell the nightmare would come and he’d relive what he hoped to avoid over and over again. He couldn’t say where it came from or why, but it lurked, like the foul feeling of Gollum’s eyes through the mines. It swept him up at night and never really let go during the light hours. It had five fingers groping his insides lightly while he walked and cinched his lungs just slightly with each conscious breath he sucked in and sighed out.
        “Legolas,” his name instantly sparked his interest as it rolled off Aragorn’s tongue.
        Legolas looked up, eyebrows raising, forming their own silent question in place of words. It was best to be short of words when you were keeping something from being spoken. Aragorn nodded to his side and Legolas knowingly advanced his gate, striding until he walked beside the Ranger.
        “There is much quiet in this place,” Aragorn’s words were low and penetrating to the obviousness of the situation.
        “I feel nothing,” Legolas evenly replied, pausing to leer his head from side to side to be certain, “nothing out of the ordinary,”
        “No creatures making noises, only the wind is making sounds around us,”
        Legolas again peered from side to side concentrating on noticing anything that might give Aragorn’s paranoia of the peace legitimacy.
        “I sense nothing is amiss,” Legolas insisted.
        Aragorn halted giving Gimli the moment needed to catch to them.
        “Keep your weapons close,” the Rangers voice was thick with distrust for the area, “I feel no need for lax reactions,”
        Legolas and Gimli both nodded Gimli reaching behind him to tug one of his axe’s holsters closer to his side so he could retrieve it with ease. Legolas removed his bow from behind him and held it out in the open. The elf would do anything to appease Aragorn, anything to make sure Aragorn would leave him about the dreams and not deduce his preoccupation with the feelings the nightmares left him.
        Again Aragorn set the pace and the trio dutifully went in step with the Man, no longer drifting lazily one behind the other, but three abreast trudging along the rocky terrain of the road. Legolas was moving his thoughts around trying not to focus on the unhappy pressing subject. He tried thinking of the reason they walked, Merry and Pippin. That only reminded him of Frodo and Sam, the two hobbits departed to take their own road to ultimately destroy the ring. His face noticeably lowered and he now stared at the ground as they trudged along. He was only vaguely aware that Aragorn was beside him and would notice his now sullen glare toward the dirt and stones and that Gimli would invariably detect something amiss when Aragorn questioned him about it all.
        Before Legolas could sigh accordingly or force himself to look straight ahead while pasting on a frozen blank gaze, an itch tugged at the back of his throat.
        “Orcs,” he literally snapped, his head raising immediately whilst his arm slung back taking an arrow from his quiver.
        Aragorn wasted no words and neither did Gimli both brandishing their weapons and keeping glances switching to watch all around them.
        “To the east of us, they aren’t many, but enough,” Legolas hissed.
        “The same from Moria?” Gimli wondered.
        Legolas let out a withheld breath, “No, these are different. These are new,”
        “Let’s leave quickly. No sense in standing in wait, use our speed,” Aragorn was off down the path ably, Legolas and Gimli following in toe.
        Legolas instinctively groping for the shoulder of Gimli hustling him down the road against his will to receive any help. The elf was not taking chances, calling on more strength then he figured he had, pushed the memory of his nightmares into the far recesses of his mind. They had dimmed his senses already and it was obvious, Aragorn felt the Orcs presence before Legolas had. That troubled him. Aragorn would surely know something had gone wrong with Legolas now.
        The feeling of Orcs descent upon the small group was fading. Legolas slowed his step. Gimli jerked from him looking almost to swing his axe. No words were spoken, but the looks of daggers and contempt shot Legolas way were more than any verbal whipping. Gimli turned from the elf and stalked forward, past Aragorn down the road. Legolas took a tentative step forward, noticing Aragorn standing as Gimli trudged on, waiting.
        “What is in your head, Greenleaf?” The words were impatient but soft.
        Accordingly Legolas looked away, partly from shame and partly from the same pride that would not allow him to share his nightmares with the Man. Keeping his gaze planted on the ground below him, Legolas walked past Aragorn, as if to ignore him with all the same acknowledging him. The strong arm of the man thrust forward, palm to Legolas chest, stopping him in his tracks. Slowly, Legolas lifted his head, his eyes sifting through different tones trying to find the correct set to show Aragorn to send his questions away again. Filing through pain, impatience, fear, annoyance and winding all back to the innocent blank stare of a shrewd elf not wishing to explain. Aragorn withdrew his hand, but not without a final stare. This was not the end of Aragorn’s search of Legolas by any means.