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There was a chill in the breeze as it stirred up the fallen leaves which carpeted the old forest track. Gnarled, grey-barked trees crouched over the path from either side, but they were not threatening as some parts of the Greenwood had grown to be in recent decades. The pale golden light of a late winter sun gave everything a bright, crisp air and told those who cared to notice that spring would not be long in coming.

Having passed through bare and quiet lands alone, the presence of trees once again brought a sense of companionship to the rider as he passed. The hills between Weathertop and Rivendell seemed empty, the orcs who only recently prowled these parts spent in the war in the east. Even the journey across the Misty Mountains had been uneventful, the goblins having retreated far into the underground tunnels in the wake of defeat. It had made for such a quiet month that the traveler would not have even minded a few stray orcs to kill on the road.

The quiet was both cathartic and oppressive. It had been many years since last Legolas had been this alone. Even in the depths of the Greenwood, there were usually always a handful of elves present at his side when out on patrol. If not a patrol, then at very least Tauriel had always been with him.

Tauriel. Her name had come unbidden to his mind once again, and Legolas did not shy away from the pain it brought in its wake. Even if he had been alone on the road these past few weeks, the red-haired elf captain had never left his mind. For many years, the prince of the Woodland Realm had silently grown his feelings of friendship toward Tauriel into something more. Duty to his father and to his people had occupied his time though, and never had he found what he told himself would be the opportune moment to confess his feelings to his captain. In truth though, Legolas had been nervous. Knowing the pain that lost love could bring, having seen firsthand what the death of his mother did to his father, Legolas had been unsure of taking such a plunge.

By the time he had been even close to ready to speak his heart, it had been too late. The dwarf had been dropped into their lives like a stone in a pond, the ripples he created spreading ever outward. Even though the son of Durin was now dead, watching Tauriel mourn Kili had been enough to tell Legolas all he needed to know; the coveted place of love in the Silvan elf's heart was not his to claim.

His own heart breaking, Legolas had turned from the scene of grief on Ravenhill. Never had he ever fled from a fight; now he had to flee from this lost battle. Only the sudden arrival of his father the king had given him pause. The last time Legolas had spoken to Thranduil, he had challenged his own father to kill him if he brought harm to Tauriel. That was how deep his feelings for her had run. Thranduil saw the pain in his son's eyes, and did not even attempt to convince him otherwise when Legolas had declared that he could not go back to the Greenwood. Instead, Thranduil had advised him to go north, there to seek out a ranger by the name of Strider.

Having no other plan in mind, Legolas had taken his father's advice. Stopping in Mirkwood only long enough to pack some travel necessities and obtain a horse, he had set out on the old forest road before any of his people could even begin returning from Erebor. Leaving his homeland behind, the prince of the Woodland Realm set out on his self-imposed exile.

Now, many hundreds of leagues from his father, from Erebor and from Tauriel, Legolas still could not quite begin to free himself from their presences. His horse set a plodding, unconcerned pace down the forest road, the track beginning to incline as they entered the foothills of the land of Fornost. The Shire was not far from here, and for a moment Legolas wondered at the country of the Halfling who had been so instrumental to events at the Battle of Five Armies. Were all the folk in that land just as hearty and genuine, or was Bilbo Baggins the exception to a rule? Putting aside his curiosity though, Legolas took a closer look around at the wintery trees. He had a task to accomplish, here in the north. He would meet this Strider, and in time uncover his true name. It had seemed of some importance to his father that Legolas should.

Movement in the brush nearly startled Legolas. He must have been lost in thought indeed, to allow anything to get so close without notice! Hands moving almost too fast to follow, Legolas flipped back the grey hood of his cloak and drew his bow, loading an arrow on the bowstring. Whatever was crouching in the bracken was not alone though, and the sound of creaking bows filled the elf's sensitive ears from all around.

"You have entered Dunedain lands, stranger, and will go no further without leave of our lord."

The voice was rough and most definitely human, coming from somewhere behind Legolas. About eleven feet slightly to the left, from the sound of it. Feeling the prickling of at least a dozen eyes on him, Legolas saw no point in getting off on the wrong foot with these mortals. Relaxing his bow, he lifted it in one hand and held the other aloft empty.

"That is fortunate news then, for it is the Dunedain whom I have come seeking." He spoke clearly, picking out with more definition the shapes of cloaked figures all around.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind. Then one of the rangers stepped forward, his bow lowered but still drawn. Even with his hood up, Legolas could pick out a stubbly brown chin and long nose on the shadowed face.

"And what business would an elf have with us?" It was the same man who had spoken before, pronouncing Legolas a stranger.

That did give the elf prince just a slight moment of pause. In truth, he did not really know what his business with the ranger Strider was. All he knew was that he had to not only meet him, but gain his trust enough to uncover his true name. So, he opted to keep to a more general explanation for the time being.

"I come from the Greenwood as an emissary to my people. We know of the toils of your people to keep back the tide of orcs from the north. I offer one of your own by the name of Strider my bow in service against these evils." Catching the beginnings of doubt on the ranger's face before him, he added on something to make himself more believable. "In doing so, I intend to report back to my king of the movements of the enemy in these lands."

The bearded ranger looked Legolas over slowly, from head to toe. The close scrutiny was not unexpected, and Legolas remained as still as carven statue throughout this inspection. Even his horse, sensing the unbroken tension in the air stood unmoving.

Finally the man spoke again. "I can hardly believe you've crossed the Misty Mountains all the way from the Greenwood, elf."

At that Legolas bristled. His honor did not take kindly to being called a liar. "You doubt my truthfulness?" He demanded, unable to keep the beginning of an edge off his otherwise smooth voice.

Before the ranger could answer, another one of the Dunedain stepped forward and held up a hand. Dropping his hood, Legolas wondered that one as young as he seemed to hold a position of respect among these people. He was quite rough looking, with unruly black hair and unshaven cheeks. When he looked up at Legolas though, the ranger's bright blue eyes, filled with wisdom and humor instantly caught the elf's attention.

"Peace, my good elf. Beringil is merely teasing you." This young man too looked Legolas up and down, but this gaze was more friendly than challenging. "After all, none of us can believe that anyone could come such a long ways and still look so well-kept!"

A chorus of laughter rose from the brush all around, and for a moment the thought occurred to the proud elf prince that these mortals were having a joke at his expense. Seeing the sparkle in the young ranger's blue eyes and the smile on his face though, Legolas finally could only shrug helplessly and chuckle as well.

Seeing the elf laugh, the rangers took it as a signal to step out into view, their bows relaxed and arrows returning to their quivers. The blue-eyed ranger approached Legolas and reached up to offer him his hand in greeting.

"If it is Strider whom you seek, then look no farther. I am called Strider, and these rangers are my people. We can always use a good bow when it comes to fighting orcs; consider your offer of service accepted."

Accepting Strider's hand and clasping it, Legolas was almost surprised to find himself completely at ease already. This could be the beginning of something good.

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