The patrol sat quietly together, sharing a hot tea. They could not make much noise for the enemy was on the move and they had been on pre-alert for the entire morning.

But talk they did, discussing this and that albeit quietly, none of the boyish exuberance of the day before. Legolas too, now an integral part of their unit, listened and asked questions - incessantly. The warriors did not mind though, for they had rarely worked with a novice that took so much interest in his training, that asked such poignant questions and seemed to respect them as much as he obviously did.

One such question was on the wisdom or otherwise of shedding ones boots at bedtime. There were chuckles and some knee-slapping as Faunion attempted to explain why he, as a Silvan warrior, would personally never do such a thing.

One moment, Legolas' attentive face was sucking in every word he said, but the next, his eyes turned to the side and he leaned back, as if surprised, or listening, perhaps.

"Boy!" joked Faunion - "I am imparting great wisdom here, the least you can do is pay attention," he said in mock irritation, but it had been enough to draw everyone's attention to the now, completely blank stare of their absent novice.

"Hwindo ..."

"Legolas!" hissed Lainion, waving a hand before the unseeing eyes.

"What is wrong with him?" asked Angion, perplexed.

"I do not know," answered Lainion with a frown, sharing a worried glance with Turion.

"Legolas...?" tried the Captain softly, and then nearly started when the boy finally spoke.

"Something is wrong..."

"What, what is wrong?" prompted Lainion.

Turion, meanwhile, let out the caw of a blackbird to request a status report from the warrior on duty. After a prolonged silence, the guard's answering call resounded in the otherwise deathly silence - all was well, he said.

Turion turned back to Legolas, who seemed to be coming back to himself.

"Something is wrong," he mumbled, shaking his head from side to side.

"Angion reports nothing, Legolas," said Lainion.

Legolas slowly held his hand up before his own face, horrified now to see it visibly shaking before he repeated again, "something is wrong..."

Faunion could stand it no longer and stood, his hand upon the pommel of his sword, for his fine hairs were standing to attention and his skin crawled - there had been something in the boy's voice, in his conviction he simply could not ignore.

Turion called back to Angion and they all waited in mounting trepidation once more for his answering call. This time, the answer took longer than it should have, but when it did reach them, it was now an alert warning. That meant one of two things; that there was a threat still far enough away to give them time to prepare, or - the warrior was unsure.

"Break camp. We move now, prepare your weapons," said Turion urgently, turning once more to a slowly rising Legolas, still, apparently not completely back to his usual self.

The boy stood before the grey, waning light of a darkening forest, and of a sudden his long hair and strange green eyes seemed brighter than they normally were. He was a vision to behold in that moment, and if Turion had looked behind him he would have realised he was not alone in his impression. He startled then, as Legolas spoke once more, his voice unsteady.

"What is wrong with me?" he whispered as his eyes suddenly focussed once more and a cold shiver ran down the length of the captain's spine.

"Nothing," he lied. "Come, we break camp - we are leaving," he said curtly, waiting for the boy to move before jogging to the fore and leading them out. There would be time enough to broach the subject - later. For now, Turion trusted his instincts. They would move to higher, safer ground before resting for the night.

The patrol began their cautious trek through the wood, their senses now on full alert. Whatever it was that had happened to their novice, it had frightened them all, left them with the uncertainty of whether the boy was right, that there was danger; after all, Angion had not been sure and it had been that fact alone, that had finally set them to moving once more.

Their eyes moved from one tree to the other, up and then down as the light became dimmer and dimmer and the forest seemed to close in around them. They were seasoned warriors but there was something about this night that unnerved them all, especially Legolas, who was still silent and withdrawn, occasionally checking his own hand which still shook, in spite of the fact that he had managed to calm himself somewhat.

Lainion cast worried glances at him, and Turion turned back to check his patrol more than he usually would.

The hoot of an owl stopped them all dead in their tracks - Angion signaled a proximity warning.

"Positions," hissed Turion, watching as each warrior took up his designated place, Legolas climbing the nearest tree, slower than he usually did. He would have to keep an eye on the boy for he did not seem to be himself as yet. Distraction and his first spider battle could be a recipe for disaster, he knew. Lainion would be thinking the same, no doubt.

All too soon, the clicking sound of spiders invaded the unnatural silence and the warriors were thrust into a silent, frantic conversation of hand signals and bird calls, conveying orders from the ground to the trees and vice versa.

The cry of an eagle preceded Angion's shadow as he finally joined the patrol. "Spiders - at least 10 and they are not small ..."

Legolas' eyes bulged, oblivious to the calculating stares he was receiving from the rest of the patrol. He had been right, something indeed had not been right, but how had he known? What strange malady had taken him that it set his head to thumping, his vision swimming and his hand shaking? Anxiety took hold of him for a moment and his breathing became erratic. 'Stop,' he scolded himself; 'Stop lest you make a fool of yourself again,' he repeated silently. Closing his eyes, he remembered his own invented exercises to centre himself before training. Applying it now on the threshold of battle would be a challenge at the least, but try he did, and soon, as he opened his eyes once more and evened his breathing, he knew he had been at least partially successful, for there was suddenly nothing but the spiders, moving through the bows, their clicking and clanking, their hissy whispers.

His hand no longer shook and his heart no longer thumped so fast. The pressure at the back of his neck no longer hurt him and he was strong. His body poised to perform to the best of its abilities, he calmly watched as the first spider showed itself and he shot, its shriek alerting the other archers to its presence. With another arrow it fell to the ground in a leathery, fury heap of thrashing legs, until it ceased its struggles and died, and although it was the first time that Legolas had confronted a yellow-belly spider, there was no awe, no shocked horror, only the enemy and his own bow.

Elven shouts and the shrieks of the spiders filled the woods and where once there had been ominous silence, now the cacophony of battle reverberated in Legolas' ears. Strangely though, his emotions were not affected. He was aware only of his muscles as they flexed and relaxed, pulled and rolled, and when he was called to the ground his eyes sought only the enemy, his flashing blades carefully calculated with eyes that calibrated them in the foreground, judging distances in the background.

The sounds of battle soon dimmed and the whoosh of his blades became louder, the beat of his heart ever present as it ticked steadily, even when he pierced the repugnant bellies of his foes and severed their armoured legs. His own breathing was strong and even, as his eyes now registered not only his foes before him, but his companions around him.

An effortless change swords to bow and he had drawn and killed a spider that was bearing down on Faunion, only to swivel sideways and shoot once more at another that threatened to skewer Angion with its toxic stinger.

His body calmly informed him that he should duck backwards and draw his swords - effortlessly, they were back in his hands and he whirled them around before stabbing forwards, into the eye of the great, yellow-bellied spider he now fought.

Silence now, save for his own body - his heart and his breath but he did not feel his body - was only aware that it moved, calm and coordinated, and his eyes saw everything - strange though, he mused, that there was a green and purple tinge to everything - as if he was looking through painted glass...

Everything seemed to move so slowly, everything except his blades, in both hands, that whirled and swirled and hummed around him in a strange song that hypnotised.

It was suddenly that his body came back to him, heavy once more, and he realised he had stopped moving. He blinked once, twice, the strange colours disappearing and the frantic face of Lainion and the western patrol standing before him, and on their faces was what Legolas could only later describe as - horror...

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

The next day, Legolas woke early. Nodding at the duty guard, he moved to the side of their camp and sat cross-legged. He needed to think, to straighten out the turmoil in his mind because after the events of the previous evening, Legolas was, quite simply - scared. Yet more than even this, he sensed the warriors averted gazes, their quiet avoidance.

Slowing his breathing and closing his eyes, he began to analyse what he thought had happened.

A pressure at the back of his neck at first had him thinking he had a headache but the pain was not a familiar one. And then, quite suddenly, an overwhelming wave of pure anxiety had slammed into him, almost stealing his breath with the force of it. He remembered trying to pinpoint the source of it but he could not. It had been too sudden, too strong. None of his own, childish worries could ever warrant what he had felt and he knew it - it had come from without, not from within.

He remembered almost panicking, and then words rolling from his errant mouth.

Something is wrong...

He had heard the words as if someone else had spoken them and he shivered, the anxiety still tearing through him mercilessly. He had wanted to cry ...

Something is wrong...

He had repeated it, and was aware that he was frightening his companions, but he had lost control and it terrified him.

He heard their bird calls, faintly in the background, first signalling 'all clear', and then came an alert - but Legolas had already known.

Something is wrong...

He had felt light, as if he floated upon a cloud, and yet strangely heavy, his chest weighing down his otherwise floating body - it was absurd and he opened his eyes in exasperation, hearing now as the camp came to life.

He should carry out his duties but his mind was still a swirling, heaving mess of disjointed memories and impressions. There was no more time though, and so he slowly rose and walked back to his companions.

Water was boiling over a fire and wood had already been gathered. He shot an apologetic look at Faunion, who simply nodded solemnly but could not quite meet his gaze. He had acted strangely last night, both before and after the battle, of that there could be no doubt, but had he made such a fool of himself? Had he fought badly, perhaps? Stood there frozen while the others cut down their foes?

He would not think of it just yet for there was a priority in his mind now. 'What was wrong with him?'

A mug of tea was placed in his hand and he looked down stupidly at it, before looking up into the frank stare of Lainion, who gestured to him that he should drink it.

He took it numbly to his lips and drank slowly, his mind turning inwards again, still aware enough to know he was being watched.

"I am sorry - brothers..." he said sadly, his eyes firmly fixed upon his mug in shame.

Silence followed his words, before Angion spoke.

"What? You are sorry?"

"Angion," said Turion, holding his hand up for silence, and then jerking his head to the side.

As one, the warriors rose and left the circle of fire, leaving Turion, Lainion and Legolas alone.

"I have shamed myself, Captain. In the one thing I wanted most in this world and I have failed..." whispered Legolas, still unable to lift his head from his hands, the urge to cry once more angering him for the weakness it implied.

"Legolas. Have you no recollection of what happened last night?" asked Turion. "Can you not remember the battle?"

"I remember - I remember feelings and sensations. I remember hearing my own heart beat, I remember fighting but not the details. I remember my failing eyesight and hearing, I remember terrible weight and dizzying lightness..." he trailed off, aware that his tone had been steadily rising. He scowled deeply, his eyes finally rising to meet Turion's worried eyes.

"It does not make sense," he said slowly, his eyes pleading with the captain for an explanation.

"No," began the captain carefully. "From that perspective it does not. But listen to me, Legolas, and take good note as you always do."

Legolas nodded dumbly, his face the very picture of abject misery.

"From our perspective," he emphasised, "from where we stood, you have not shamed yourself, child ..."

Turion watched as Legolas stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"Legolas, what we saw last night was a warrior the likes of which most of us have never seen - most, except me ..."

Legolas' expression changed from confusion to shocked puzzlement, and his head cocked to one side.

"Legolas, there is little I or anyone else can teach you about the martial arts. You fought as the mighty warriors of old and the Valar confound me for I tell you I know not where you have learned to fight the way you do. You did not shame yourself, Legolas - Hwindohtar - you saved the day."

Legolas' eyes were round, utter shock leaving him stupefied and unable to formulate a single sentence.

"Now after what I have said, I will tell you this. You seem to have a - gift - Legolas. I know not the nature of it and I believe you are completely unaware of it - but you do have it. Whatever it is seems to be manifesting itself for the first time for I sense your anxiety, your fear..."

"Yes, yes," he said eagerly, hoping that Turion would cast some light on it, ease his fraught mind.

"Patience then, Hwindohtar. let us watch and wait and discover this thing together. Do not be frightened, for I believe that what happened to you yesterday is a good thing.

A desperate, somewhat strangled groan escaped Legolas, for it hadn't felt good at all and he said as much.

"I cannot fathom it. I was not myself and yet I was. It was as if my body - acted of its own accord as if I had no - control - over what I did, saw or heard..."

"Can you be more precise, Legolas. Can you remember any details?" asked Lainion, leaning forward in anticipation.

Legolas took a few moments to think.

"I remember my, my eyesight was strange - there were blue and purple edges to everything. I remember my muscles, the way they flexed and relaxed, which ones moved my weapons, my eyes. I could hear little more than my own heartbeat, my own breathing, everything else was - muted - even the screams and the shrieks..."

Lainion and Turion shared a puzzled stare before the captain continued with his questioning.

"Alright. I think we have a start. At least one thing seems certain, Hwindohtar. You are most intuitive, for you felt the presence of the enemy long before any of us did. This may or may not be connected with what happened to you in battle. If it happens again, you must try to control it, and for that you can count on us but do not hide it."

"I won't," he said after a moment. "I am still confused but - you have helped me to calm myself at least."

"Good," said Turion with a reassuring smile.

"Just - just one more thing, Captain."

"Yes, what is it?" asked Turion as he rose to leave.

"Why are you calling me Hwindohtar?"

The captain smiled before glancing at his lieutenant and then back to the young boy standing expectantly before him, looking a little less pale than he had done before.

"Because after what I saw last night, I cannot help but call you thusly for it is true - you are the Whirling Warrior," he said, a cheeky grin on his usually stern features.

Legolas' eyebrows rose to his hairline and he turned to face Lainion in silent question.

But the Avari simply smiled, nodded, and went about his business, leaving behind a still puzzled, yet strangely relieved novice warrior.

TSTSTSTSTTSTSTSTSTSTTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

Many miles away to the west, in the deeps of the old forest, an old man's eyes snapped open, round and unfocussed, intense blue that seemed to transcend the world around him, until the pupils visibly focussed and he blinked - and then smiled.

'Welcome, young lord...'