Summary: (AU) Something happened five hundred years before the Fellowship that prevents Legolas from going on the quest to destroy the one ring, but will that stop him from helping?

Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim ownership of Middle Earth, all its residence, and all concepts included therein, heretofore the property of J.R.R. Tolkin, currently property of God knows who. On a second note, the song, Man's Road, is by America and has been very subtly changed. Yea, I know, I'm a dork, I care not.

WARNING: Content under pressure, do not expose to Mary Sue's, Romance, or Slash.  

-Man's Road-

by Odele

Ch. 1

A Song in the Night

        It was dark when the Fellowship reached the town of Whayrull, short one pack-pony. The company had begun their day well before dawn, and made only a brief stop sometime around noon to forage through what they had left of their personal belongings for the makings of a meager meal that left the Hobbit's stomachs rumbling in protest.

        So it was that, as they entered Whayrull, even Merry and Pippin were too tired and hungry to complain about being tired and hungry. Aragorn and Gandalf had decided to head straight for an Inn and worry about replacing their lost supplies in the morning.

        They approached one of the buildings lining the main thoroughfare, the chipped, weathered sign above the door proclaiming it The Black Boar. Aragorn led the rest of the company to a large table situated in the rear of the establishment, away from prying eyes, while the wizard spoke with the Innkeeper about rooms.

        "Don't worry Sam," the Ranger was saying when Gandalf returned. "Bill knows his way back to Rivendell. He's a smart pony, he'll be safe." The little Hobbit had been distraught since the night before when, after a fruitless search for the spooked beast, the decision to continue without him had been made.

        "And he'll have an easier time of it without us in his way I'm sure," said Frodo sympathetically, patting his friend's shoulder.

        "I'm sure you're right Mr. Frodo," Sam replied with a halfhearted smile.

        "Well, I for one am glad for the stop! Nothing like a good ale and a warm bed to end a long day!" Gimli said in way of lightening the mood.

        "Here, here!" Boromir added, toasting with his own newly acquired pint. The remaining two Hobbits joined in happily with their own drinks, while the Elvin member of the party remained quiet, the hood of his cloak pulled up to hide his fair features from drawing attention.

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

        When they had finished their supper and most had gone off to bed, Aragorn took it upon himself to traverse the empty streets of Whayrull, locating the places he would be visiting in the morning so that they would not have to linger any longer than necessary.

        A five-minute walk continuing down the main road led him past many establishments, all locked and shuttered in the late hour, until he spotted just the place he was looking for. Peering through the wooden slats protecting the window, the Ranger could see nearly everything that needed replacing sitting or hanging inside, waiting to be purchased. All else they would need—another pony and travel friendly food—the Innkeeper had assured him he would be able to provide. Satisfied, Aragorn turned around and headed back to the Inn.

For once on their excursion the night air seemed more friendly than reticent, making it perfect for cityscape stargazing. One of his favorite pastimes as a Ranger was to contemplate the stars from within the confines of a settlement after long periods in the open. The little pinpricks of light seemed less wild, more refined and yet still playful from inside the town.

        Settling himself on the bench in front of The Black Boar, Aragorn took out his pipe and watched the night sky. He had not been there long when, from the alley between the Inn and the building to its right, came a melody. It was so soft the Ranger almost had to strain to hear it, but even so the words were clear. Even though they were of the western speech, the tortured melancholy of the lyrics sounded distinctly Elvish.

'Horizon, rising, up to meet the purple dawn.

Dust demon, screaming, bring an eagle to lead me on.

For in my heart I carry such a heavy load.

Here I am, on Man's road.

'I'm hungry, weary, but I cannot lay me down.

The rain comes, dreary, but there's no shelter, I have found.

It will be a long time till I find my abode.

Here I am, on Man's road.'

        Forgetting his now unlit pipe, Aragorn rose from the bench and moved quietly to the edge of the building. Peeking around the corner, he spied a shadowed figure sitting on the cold ground, back against the wall, head bent towards its knees.

'Moon rising, disguising lonely streets in gay display.

The stars fade, the nightshade falls and makes the world afraid.

It waits in silence for the sky to explode.

Here I am, on Man's road.

Walking Man's road.

Walking Man's road.

Here I am, walking Man's road.'

        With a sigh that could have been the wind, the figure leaned its head against the wall, it's hood falling back just enough for the Ranger to see the outline of a perfect nose and the contour of a well formed jaw. Moonlight played on a stray lock of golden hair and turned the pale complexion almost silver.

        Resolving not to intrude further on a moment obviously intended to be solitary, Aragorn retreated back inside. Putting the questions that now animated his mind—what was a lone Elf doing in a settlement of Men? what could drive him to voice such a sad, resigned melody? —the Ranger joined Boromir and Gimli for one last drink before retiring.

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

        Legolas' head turned in reaction to a sound from the street outside his alleyway. Seeing no movement and hearing nothing further, he turned back and let go another breath.

        'What are you doing out here, you sentimental old fool,' he mentally chastised himself. 'You've responsibilities elsewhere.' Rising with all the grace of his kind, Legolas moved to the back of the alley, finding it more difficult than usual to ignore the stench of waste that permeated the air. Rounding the corner, he entered the Inn from the back and headed up the stairs to his room.

        Silently opening the door, Legolas took in at the small figure sleeping in the single bed. It did not seem that the boy would be waking any time soon and for that the Elf was glad. It was the most peaceful rest the child had had in a while. Closing the door again, Legolas headed down to the dining hall to mull over a glass of wine.  

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

        Gimli and Boromir were the only two left downstairs save the Innkeeper, who had busied himself with something—the day's earnings no doubt—behind the bar. Aragorn joined them as they were finishing a merry argument over whose people made the better weaponry.

        "Terribly sorry to disappoint you," Aragorn cut in with the barest smile, "But it is well known that Elvish blades are both truer and straighter than any other."

        "Ha!" Gimli scoffed, "I would not trust something of their make to slice bread! Let alone depend on in the midst of battle. Give me a well-crafted Dwarvish blade any time!"

        "You my friend are incorrigible!" Boromir laughed. As the two renewed their conversation Aragorn noticed a figure come down the stairs. Wrapped securely in a dark cloak and face hidden deep within the hood, the Ranger was sure he recognized the tall frame. He wondered at first if it was their Elvin companion, but then decided against that as he seated himself at the bar, distinctly ignoring Aragorn's company.

        The stranger turned his head to the side at a particularly uproarious guffaw from both Gimli and Boromir. As he did so, Aragorn saw the outline of a nose and in that instant the outsider went from being a suspicious threat to a lonely curiosity. It was the Elf from the alleyway, of that Aragorn was sure. He was of a mind to go speak to this mysterious stranger, but just as he was about to rise the Elf stiffened in his seat in response to something the Innkeeper had said. Aragorn could not hear what the Elf's reply was, but the Innkeeper seemed a bit flustered. "Good evening then, Master Innkeeper," the Elf said forcefully enough for Aragorn to overhear, and swiftly retreated back up the stairs, most likely to his room.

        With a sigh at this missed opportunity, Aragorn roused his two fairly intoxicated friends from their argument, which had somehow turned into a conversation on the finer points of women. After assuring himself that the others were settled, Aragorn lay down on his cot, but sleep eluded him most of that night.

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

Authors note: You might have noticed a distinct lack of description concerning the Fellowship's replacement Elf. That would be because I don't know who to make him. Should he be Glorfindel, a brother of Legolas', or somebody else? Some input here would be much appreciated, thanks.

Californian Logic #1: Dood, the informal spelling of Dude.