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By the Valar, but he was sore. Every time he tried to raise his arm more than a few degrees, Legolas's entire shoulder lit up with pain like a bonfire. Even regular applications of Nerwen's poultice were only marginally helpful in bringing down the irritation of the healing warg scratches. It seemed Elrohir had not been joking about the cleanliness of the creatures' claws.

Far be it from Legolas to complain though. Standing at the doorway of Strider's home, he took in a deep breath of the spring air. He loved this time of year. Everything smelled so poignantlyalive, even if the plants were not yet sprouting and the trees remained leafless. It would have been a perfect time to join the other warriors of the Woodland Realm at the archery range, shooting and talking and just generally enjoying the rejuvenation that came with the season.

Instead, he listened to the sounds of raised voices coming from behind him and sighed slightly. Strider never got angry, barely ever even raised his voice unless needed. It seemed that as much as Strider's second-in-command Beringil was reliable and trustworthy, the older ranger also had a talent for getting his chieftain stirred up.

"I'm telling you Strider, it can only lead to trouble, going up into the northeast toward Angmar. You know better than I that trolls lurk positively thick in there!"

For the hundredth time, Strider kneaded his eyes. "I'm aware of that. But are you really prepared to spend yet another summer lying awake at night wondering what will be coming down out of the north next?"

Beringil slapped his hand on a tabletop, making the mugs there rattle dangerously. "Damn it all, you know I don't like it any more than you! But is it really worth sending good rangers up into those fell hills looking for danger?"

Folding his arms gingerly, Legolas leaned against the door jamb and tried to enjoy the sound of the breeze as it passed through the valley. The two men had been at this for going on an hour now. It had been Strider who had broached the idea with Beringil of sending a party up north into the mountains before the rivers swelled with run-off waters. Apparently, while getting some respite due to the deep snows each winter, the Dunedain village was positively plagued by all manner of foul creatures coming down from the lands of Angmar as the weather warmed. To say nothing of how difficult it made defending the borders of the quiet lands to the south. Strider wanted to see if they could catch any nests of trolls and/or wargs unawares as they came out of hibernation, and destroy them before they could spread.

"Wasn't the warg attack yesterday evidence enough Beringil?" Strider was saying, his tone barely containing frustration. "The beasts have multiplied in number, and are hungrier than they've ever been. The Battle of Five Armies in Erebor lessened the numbers of orcs and goblins, yes, but the wild creatures are just as numerous as they have ever been."

"It's a fool's errand, and you know it." Beringil ground out. "Strider, you've always asked me to speak my mind to you, and I do so now. Just what are you intending to prove, going up into Angmar's lands?"

The mention of Angmar sent a shiver down Legolas's spine that had nothing to do with the waning chill of winter. The last time he had been there, he had been forced to recall his mother's death firsthand. It was not a place he was eager to return to. Still he kept his back turned to the debate, his keen ears picking up every word and inflection. The elf did not need to see faces to read people.

"Prove?" Strider spoke softly, making the word all the more unsettling for some reason. "You mistake me, my friend. Do you believe that I would carelessly risk the lives of our people for the sake of my own pride?"

A long rumbling sigh followed. "No, of course not. I do not understand the course of action you propose though. We can manage these creatures as they trickle down through the foothills in small groups. You really think even the largest party we could manage to send would be able to handle entire nests of wargs, trolls, and whatever else might be up there?"

"We have an advantage in allies at the moment, an advantage that I am inclined to put my faith in." Strider raised his voice slightly, not in anger but to imply that this conversation now included three. "Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas, all here in our village at one time. Three skilled elvish warriors, able in stealth, woodcraft and scouting. Surely there could be none more capable of leading a party into the north?"

Raising his eyebrows, Legolas turned and surrendered his pretense of non-partisanship. "You are opportunistic, Estel."

Now it was Strider's turn to quirk an eyebrow at Legolas's use of the twins' nickname for him. "Perhaps. I also know capability when I see it. What are your thoughts, Legolas?"

No doubt it was a dangerous thing that Strider was asking of him. And also an enormous gesture of trust. To put himself and the Peredhil brothers in command of such a party was essentially to put the lives of many good rangers in their hands. That did not make the thought of seeing Angmar again any easier though.

"Have you discussed this idea with Elladan and Elrohir?" Legolas asked.

"It was they who recommended you for this expedition." Strider gave a small, rueful smile. "I had originally intended to lead the party myself. It sits ill with me not to commit just as much to such a venture as anyone else whom I would ask to go. They however reminded me that, having no heirs, my responsibility is to this village and its keeping."

Finally Beringil seemed pleased with something Strider had said. "And they're right, Captain. I still say it's a fool's errand, but even more so if you decide to go gallivanting off on it."

Legolas could see how much Strider was struggling with having come up with such a potentially dangerous idea, only to learn that he could not personally assume the inherent risks. He sympathized with the young chieftain; the price of leadership was often more bitter than just one's own life and limbs.

"I think it is beyond doubt a hazardous mission, fraught with danger for all who would dare go seeking the enemy in the north." Legolas chose his words carefully. "But it also has the potential for saving much trouble and worry in the future. You are thinking that, with the orcs and goblins depleted in battle, now is as good an opportunity as any to clean out the high fells?"

Strider nodded, the smile widening on his face. "You follow my thoughts exactly, Legolas. I know it is much to ask of you. These are not your lands, nor your kin. Still, I ask it all the same; will you go north to help lead my men?"

The memory of the grim looks on everyone's faces in the village when they had heard the wargs' howls yesterday came to Legolas's mind. He had seen that look of resignation in the face of danger before, on the faces of his own people. The folk of the Woodland Realm were becoming far too used to daily incursions by spiders, goblins, and whatever else from the south and the mountains. More than once Legolas had wished he could grant his people peace of mind, the freedom to just live without worrying about what lay beyond the doorway. He did not know what was happening in his homeland, but perhaps he could give such a gift to the Dunedain.

"I will go." He answered calmly. "How soon did you plan for this party to set out?"

Beringil chewed an edge of his greying mustache. "In a week." When Legolas's gaze shot to him in surprise the ranger shrugged. "I still think it's a bad idea, but that doesn't mean I'm craven."

"Will your shoulder be healed sufficiently by then?" Strider nodded meaningfully at the stiff angle of Legolas's arm. Both he and Nerwen had attempted to bully the elf into wearing a sling, but Legolas had flatly refused. He did not need to walk about advertising his own carelessness to the world.

"It will be, rest assured of that." Answered Legolas with a dismissive wave. "If I were not afraid of the threat of a darning needle, I would be out limbering up with my bow already."

At this both Strider and Beringil laughed. Shaking his head, Beringil actually smiled at Legolas.

"There may be hope for you yet elf. And here I was thinking you hadn't a single humorous bone in your body."

"It came close I think. Luckily mine is still intact." With a wry chuckle, Legolas laid a hand gently on the bandages on his upper arm, beneath which his humerus bone lay.

Now Strider really was roaring with laughter, although Beringil hesitated slightly, not getting the jest. Slapping his knee and pausing for breath, Strider tried his best to collect himself before speaking.

"It is a joke of anatomy, my friend. You see..."

Beringil snorted. "Keep your new-found humor in one piece, elf. You're going to need it once we get into the trolls nests of the high fells."

Although he had been to Angmar before, Legolas saw no sense in bringing that up at the moment. No point in ruining the moment with sad recollections. He just hoped that they would not be making any new ones with this venture.

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