Disclaimers: I do not own the recognizable characters in this story.

Author's Notes: It's been nearly two years since I began this little fic (...Whoa...!) And so I decided to edit and add a few things. As I said before, I've never done anything quite like this, and Tolkien-speech is something only Thundera Tiger has come close to so far (that I've seen), so if you have suggestions, I'm happy to take them.

Hidden Starlight

Chapter One: Rivendell

"Here we part," Legolas said. Gimli slid off the horse's back with a thankful grunt when his stout legs hit the ground.

He turned and looked up. "So we do, Master Elf. And if our parting is short, the time we are away will pass swiftly."

"Wise words!" Legolas smiled. "I will only be gone for as long as it takes Arod to carry me to Rivendell, and from there to Aragorn."

Gimli eyed the horse doubtfully. "Good. In the time it takes your horse to do so, we dwarves should have this colony on its feet."

"I could say much about how raising the colony to the stature of a dwarf would be a /small/ improvement, but look! There are your kindred, and they wield clubs as wildly as you do an axe." Legolas' bright grey eyes sparkled at his friend's sputtering rage.

Legolas finally broke down into laughter. "Peace! You know that I jest. There are not words enough to praise the honor of the Dwarves."

"You are fortunate, Legolas," Gimli muttered. "Fortunate that Elves have such a way with words. For that, I will not climb up on that horse and strangle the immortal life out of you."

"Farewell, until I return, Master Dwarf."

"And to you, Legolas." He turned and walked back to the group of Dwarves. Legolas whispered to Arod, and the horse galloped away.

Several miles out of Rivendell, Arod pulled to a stop. The fresh early-summer breeze fanned out his mane and tale, and sent waves through the tall green grass.

Legolas stared ahead to the forests of the beautiful Elven land, and shivered at the distress he felt. It was in the trees, flowing through the streams, and emanating from his kindred. He couldn't see them, yet, and it disturbed him all the more.

"Forward, Arod!" he urged, and the horse raced on anxiously.

They slowed as they entered the borders of Elrond's kingdom, even though tension still hung as heavy as fog. Every guard was in his place, and all was quiet.

"Greetings, Legolas," a dark-haired Elf, Arasanu, said after he had dismounted. "The Lady Arwen wishes to speak with you." Arasanu led Arod away to be tended, and Legolas walked swiftly up a grand staircase to a platform overlooking most of Rivendell. Elrond's only daughter stood at the top, speaking softly to two elves Legolas didn't recognize. What they told her bothered her, but she sent them away quickly with some new errand.

"Legolas," she sighed when she noticed him at the top of the stairs. "In any other time, I could not have been so glad to see you, and yet dread your presence also."

"What is it that so troubles fair Rivendell, and yourself?" Legolas looked around them as if that would show him the source. "It is like nothing I have felt before." Arwen fixed her gaze on a small building.

"Perhaps not," Elrond joined them. Arwen turned to him anxiously, but the only expression on her father's face was one of grief and foreboding. "And that is in some ways a comfort, Legolas Greenleaf. Before you depart, I have things to show you. Come."

The Elven archer moved to follow and Elrond went on, "One of our kindred was gravely wounded. We have only just brought him home to Rivendell." The wizened Elf paused, gazing down at the small home below. "He was captured by Orcs while on a patrol I had sent him on, more than a month ago."

Legolas went cold inside. "And he yet lives?"

"He does. The wounds are beyond my understanding, and none can heal them, but they were not fatal." Elrond's gaze hardened and Legolas knew he was withholding a thought. Without another word, Elrond led him down to the small cottage.

Inside, a small fire burned under its stone chimney. The home was two rooms in all, and both were filled with ornate carpets, heavy green drapes, and countless tokens of far lands and many races. It all fit together so the eye flowed from one shelf to the next without lingering long on any one thing. The place felt comfortable without having much living space.

Seated near the fire in a chair Legolas recognized as one from Rohan, a fair-haired Elf stirred.

"Glorfindel," Elrond began, and the other Elf's pale eyes turned in their direction. "This is Legolas of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil." Glorfindel cocked his head slightly, looking as if he were about to speak, but he nodded instead and stayed quiet.

In dancing firelight, shadows usually softened Elven features. But not so now. This night, the light cruelly illuminated the white scar that ran along the right side of Glorfindel's face, from brow to cheek.

Glorfindel's eyes did not meet either of the two Elves' faces. "I am sorry," he said hollowly. "That I cannot rise to meet you. Lord Elrond understands, I expect."

Elrond nodded to himself and responded, "Arwen is concerned for you."

"She has told me such, as have you." Glorfindel sighed. "It is appreciated." The crackling fire ate away at a few silent minutes. "What is a Prince of Mirkwood come here for, and alone?"

Legolas glanced up at Elrond and back at Glorfindel. "I was asked to escort Arwen to Gondor."

Glorfindel smiled, but it was empty; probably a reaction he gave out of habit. "But you don't have Gloin's son with you."

"He was needed elsewhere."

"You haven't been here long, and I would offer you food or drink if I had any to give, but I do not." He blinked and turned his face towards the fire, away from his two guests. "I thank you for the visit, but I'm not much of a host presently."

"Rest well, Glorfindel," Elrond told him, and nodded towards Legolas. He didn't speak again until they were well away. "The Orcs may not have had time to kill him--we're still uncertain how he escaped--but they took his sight. With it, they took his joy. We can merely guess at what they did to him or where they took him, but he won't listen to anyone here. He hasn't come out since we set him there, when he was yet dragging himself around because he could not find his way otherwise. I fear we may still lose him."

"He finds no more love for this world. He suffers in darkness, with only the memories of the Orcs' torture to keep him company, for those are most recent, and freshest in his mind." Legolas shook his head sadly. "No Elf can comprehend such a fate."

"Beauty and joy come not from sight."

The prince shook his head once."Nay, truly, but how does one remember that when all the stars have been taken away?"