Author's note: This story takes place in Imladris (Rivendell): conversation is in Elvish unless otherwise noted.

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The black sky turned for an instant to icy blue, then became an inky black again. Wrapped tightly in his downy blanket, Estel did not even have time to count to himself "one mile gone" before he heard the great bang of thunder that made his bed quiver with the noise.

Estel also trembled with the noise, although he tried to pretend he did not.

"Seven years old is most certainly too old to be afraid of storms," he told himself firmly.

Yet this storm was by far the most forceful that the spring had brought to Imladris, and the heart of it was coming closer. Papa Elrond had taught Estel how to begin counting when he saw the lightning flash: "One mile gone, two miles gone, three miles gone." Then when Estel heard the thunder that went with the flash, he would know how far away the lightning was. The valley had so few thunderstorms that Estel could almost always count to "four miles gone" - in which case he could say to himself, "Four miles gone! That is probably not even in Imladris! I'm not afraid of a storm four whole miles away!"

It was very reassuring, as long as the lightning stayed far away.

Rain pounded hard at the window and through it Estel saw the sky turn to a white nearly as bright as day. Before he could even open his mouth to count the miles, he heard a tremendous roar of thunder so loud and long that the entire house seemed to quake on its foundation, and this time the noise did not seem to come from overhead, but very near. There was a mighty "CRACK" of something splitting.

Estel dove under his blankets. From the darkness there he heard shouting, doors opening and shutting, and feet scurrying outside his room in the long hallway. Then, a few moments later, there was a soft knock at Estel's door and the creaking of hinges.

Estel hurriedly struggled out from under his small shelter and insisted loudly, "I was not scared!" before he even looked to see who it was.

Elrond smiled at his foster son. He did not say, "Of course you were not," because his Elvish heritage would not easily let him lie, but he did not argue with the small boy un-hiding himself from under the bedclothes.

Instead Elrond said, "Whether or not, it must be very hard to sleep. Elladan and Elrohir and some others have gone to make certain that a tree that was struck will not catch fire. Will you come and have something warm to drink with me while we wait for them to come back?"

Estel nodded, pushing his feet into slippers and padding across the floor to where Elrond, the great Lord of Imladris, bent down on one knee to wipe a stray tear from the little boy's face.

Estel was embarrassed; he hadn't realized he'd been crying. But the look on Elrond's face was so loving that Estel could not keep from thinking that perhaps it didn't matter if Elrond knew he'd been frightened, anyway.

Taking Estel's hand in his own, Elrond rose and led the child down the long hallway. They passed Estel's mother's doorway. No one could sleep through such a storm, but Elrond had for a long time despaired of Gilraen comforting her child during thunderstorms or at any other time: she seemed to love her child well enough, but she was locked within her private grief as one might be locked in a dungeon cell where no light goes. As far as Elrond could tell Gilraen thought of Estel only rarely, and then always with great surprise, as if she did not realize a small someone might need her was dwelling in the same house. Had Elrond gone to Gilraen and told her to seek out Estel, no doubt she would have done so, but in truth the Lord of Imladris greatly enjoyed Estel and did not in the least mind caring for him.

The two walked down the stairs to the Hall of Fire, which Elrond knew was the most comfortable room in the house by Estel's standards, and which had the additional advantage of not having windows to see the lightning through.

Estel plunked down on a large cushion on the floor, and Elrond brought out a kettle to make some tea over the fire that was always kept burning.

"Where was the tree that was struck?" Estel asked suddenly.

"To the west a little way," answered Elrond, "somewhere near the caves. Though I did not clearly see the tree before it was hit, it must have been one of the tallest ones. It is felled now in two pieces."

"I hope it was not my climbing tree," said Estel seriously. "I was just beginning to be brave on it."

Elrond stifled a laugh. For a child of Men, no doubt Estel was a very good tree-climber, but by Elfling standards what Estel had been doing could hardly be counted as "climbing" at all.

"I think someone had been camping near my tree," Estel went on. "I hope they moved before the lightning got there. But I guess they would have gone into the cave anyway, to get out of the rain."

Elrond turned around to look at Estel in surprise and concern. "Someone camping? Near the caves? Who? When was this?"

"I do not know. Yesterday, and some days ago, I guess." He puffed out his chest a little. "They tried to make it secret, but I saw part of a footprint, and a two broken twigs. Elladan will be proud of me when I tell him how I sighted the track, I bet."

Elrond pressed his lips together. "Estel, you must tell me when you notice such things. I need to know if there are strangers in the valley - and you must be careful. Not all from without the valley are kind. This person might be dangerous."

"But, Papa, it was an Elf, I am sure of it. Men have big stomp-y footprints." Estel stretched his feet out before him and clomped on the floor a bit to demonstrate. "This was not like that at all. This was a hoppy footprint that almost didn't touch the grass."

Elrond wondered how it was that Estel had picked up the prejudice that it was Men who were dangerous and Elves who were safe. "I want to know about anyone who comes in the valley, Estel, whether Elf or Man."

"Yes, Papa,” Estel said meekly. Elrond had no doubt Estel would obey - he was quite well behaved, for a child of Men.

Elrond had just served Estel some honeyed tea and had begun a long story meant to distract Estel from the thunder, when Elrond’s seneschal, Erestor, fairly flew into the room.

"My Lord," Erestor said, stained with rain and mud and clearly out of breath, "you must come at once to the halls of healing. An Elf has been injured in the storm. Who it is, we do not know, but he is badly hurt and unconscious."

Elrond and Erestor left swiftly for the Hall of Healing. Estel followed behind them, storm forgotten, leaping into each of Erestor's muddy footprints as they went. Privately, Estel pretended he was following tracks in the wilds. Erestor's prints were far too easy to see, but that was fine - Estel simply pretended they were half-covered by tall green grass and fallen leaves, as well.

When they reached the carved archway that led to the room where Elrond healed the ill and injured, Estel stayed back while the two Elves entered. Unless he had permission Estel was not allowed to enter the Hall of Healing while a patient was there, so he waited in the doorway to see if he would be invited to come in and help. Papa Elrond’s friend, Glorfindel, and some other elves were gathered around a still figure on the bed, but Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond’s sons and Estel’s foster brothers, were nowhere to be seen. Estel guessed they were still braving the storm to make sure the fires were out near the caves. 

Elrond went to the still figure on the bed and studied him with some concern. The fair-haired Elf was shivering through his drenched, ragged green-gray clothes and his ankle was swelling badly, but there was no obvious reason why he should be unconscious.

"Ai, this is not good," Elrond said gravely, placing one hand on the clammy skin of the Elf's forehead. "We must get him warm and dry, firstly, and then I can examine him further to see why he does not wake. Erestor, fetch me more blankets, please. Oh, and Glorfindel, would you be so kind as to take young Estel back to his room and perhaps sit with him awhile, or fetch his mother to do so?"

Estel was disappointed that he was not going to be allowed to help this time. He liked making people better and learning about herbs and the art of healing. He already knew two plants to use: athelas and willow bark.

Glorfindel, who was just as wet and muddy as Erestor and most of the other people in the room, gave a short nod to Elrond and went to Estel.

Estel liked Glorfindel, and if he had to go back to his room he didn't mind the great Elf escorting him. Silently Glorfindel held out his hand and Estel took it, the small hand swallowed up in the much larger one.

Estel usually had to run or leap to keep up with grown Elves in a hurry, since Elves were taller than Men, and much taller than little boys, but Glorfindel always walked slowly when Estel was with him and did not forget Estel's shorter legs.

"It is late for you to be awake, Little One," Glorfindel remarked, walking with his usual slow pace.

Estel craned his neck to look up at Glorfindel's face. "The storm woke me," he answered with a scowl, as if the storm had done so purposefully.

Glorfindel nodded. "Aye, it was loud, was it not? But I think the worst is over now. The clouds will soon stop their temper tantrum and we shall have a nice, steady rain to water your garden."

Estel laughed, thinking of cloud children throwing themselves down on the starry floor of the night sky and kicking their fluffy legs in anger.

"Perhaps the sun told them to go to bed, and they were angry because they wanted to stay awake later," Estel mused.

Glorfindel smiled at the Estel's whimsy; he could well understand how Estel might have thought of such a set of circumstances. "If that is so, then they certainly received what they wished for tonight," Glorfindel replied.

"The sun should not give in to them so, else they will only do it again." Estel furrowed his brow. "How would the sun punish a cloud if it was naughty, do you think? And truly, what makes the thunder sound, Glorfindel?"

"Both excellent questions; no doubt when you ask the Lord Elrond tomorrow, he will know the answers," Glorfindel smoothly answered, giving the answer he stored away for just such emergencies. "And here we are back at your room. Hop to bed, now."

Meanwhile in the Hall of Healing, Elrond was perplexedly searching for the cause of injury in the unknown Elf. In dry clothes, and somewhat the warmer, the stranger had stopped shivering and was breathing easier. Since the Elf had been found in a cave with no branches anywhere near, Elrond knew that the tree had not struck the Elf when it fell.

From the lack of burns he could guess that the Elf had been struck neither by the lightning itself nor the ground charge. Perhaps somehow the Elf had been thrown backward and hit his head? Yes, there was the telltale bump near the base of the skull. Well, that was straightforward enough.

Elrond turned to one of his assistants. "Warm some water if you would please, Ilothuir. I will need it soon." He turned to the other Elves. "The rest of you can go, and I thank you for all your help tonight."

Once the other Elves were gone from the room, Elrond was better able to reach into his healing gift and begin to repair the damage done. It was difficult, draining work, but finally Elrond knew the stranger was no longer trapped in unconsciousness but sleeping in a healthy sleep.

Elrond rubbed his nose in puzzlement. He had no idea who would be wandering the valley without announcing themselves. Why had the strange Elf hidden in a cave, rather than coming to the House of Elrond? It was common knowledge that all who sought sanctuary in Imladris found it.

And the stranger reminded Elrond of someone. Who? Elrond's instincts told him that this Elf was young, so perhaps too young for Elrond to have met during the days when he traveled often. By his dress, Elrond conjectured that he was not from Lothlórien. A wood Elf from Mirkwood, then? Elrond studied the pale features and fair hair. Most Elves from Mirkwood had dark hair, he knew. In fact, the only Elf from Mirkwood whom Elrond knew who had fair hair was-

Elrond blinked. Of course! The sleeping young Elf reminded Elrond of Thranduil.

"Oh - thank you, Ilothuir,” Elrond said as he took the bowl of warm water and cloths from one of his assistants and absently prepared herbs to help with the swelling of the ankle.

The question was, why would kin of Thranduil have come to Imladris, and why would he hide himself away in a cave?

Estel lounged on an upper balcony, eating some sweet dried apple slices. Not far away, water fell like twisted lace from an escarpment down into the frothing pool that flowed away beneath the main bridge. As Glorfindel had predicted, the storm of the night before had softened into a light rain. The sun peeked here and there between the clouds, casting little rays of brightness into the courtyard and causing wet leaves to sparkle and the rain to shine as it descended.

The balcony was one of Estel’s favorite watching places. He could see birds and animals that only lived in the tops of trees, as well as most of the comings and goings from the house. So he was perfectly situated to see the two horses and riders making their way down the Northwestern path.

Estel studied the horses with great interest. One horse was a bay with a light, pretty step and a long neck. It tossed its head occasionally, as if in pride at its appearance. Its rider was dressed in muted green and silver gray. The other rider, dressed mostly in deep greens and brown, sat atop a dappled white horse. The second horse was less beautiful in form, but more surefooted, and although he could see it was the less valuable horse Estel liked the color better.

To the riders themselves Estel paid little attention except to think that if he hurried he would be the first to tell his father about the visitors (for though Erestor would go out to greet the strangers and bring them inside, the councilor was notoriously long-winded when issuing a formal welcome.)

In the Hall of Healing, an Elf slowly opened his eyes and moved his head a little to look round. He saw he was lying in a fastidiously clean room in which nearly every wooden surface had been decorated with carvings. To his right, muted light filtered through curtained windows. Near to his left was an archway leading to a passage, but into the passage   itself he could not see. There was no one else in the room.

He frowned, trying to piece together thoughts that fell like wind-scattered leaves through his mind. He remembered… Greenwood… Secrets… Leaving… Storms… He remembered being cold, which was odd because he was not usually affected by cold.

He eased himself up in bed, becoming mindful that his ankle was a little sore and that every time he moved his head too quickly he became nauseated. The last thing he remembered was waiting out the storm in a cave in Imladris, so he was surely now in the house of Lord Elrond. Indeed, the place was as airy and pleasant as he had always heard.

Being found in Imladris now might be a good or bad thing. Still, a comfortable, warm bed made an agreeable change from camping on wet ground or hard rock.

The Elf caught a glimpse of a mop of dark hair on the head of a small person before it disappeared behind the wall of the archway again. Perhaps he was not so alone as he had thought. The Elf smiled, glad he was still able to do so after all he had been though.

“Well met, Little One!” he called to the curious child. “Are you standing there because you wish to come say ‘hello’? You may, if you would like.”

This time, the dark hair was joined by a pair of dark eyes peeking into the room. “I am not supposed to bother you,” whispered the child loudly, still from around the corner.

“You do not bother me, Elfling,” the Elf assured.

The child stepped into the open and the Elf was surprised to see that although the child was dressed like an Elfling and spoke like one, it was clearly a child of Men.

“I am not allowed to enter the Hall of Healing without permission – I was only looking for my Papa,” the boy said, still without coming into the room. “But when I find him, I will ask him to let me visit you. He will surely allow it, since even I can see you are feeling better.” The child frowned. “I do not think you are supposed to be unattended. When I find Papa I will tell him about that, also. I think he meant for one of the healers he is training to be here with you when you awoke.”

The Elf was puzzled. “Am I not in Imladris, in the House of Elrond? I thought it was Lord Elrond himself who trained the new healers.”

The child nodded happily, as if the Elf had done something quite clever. “Yes, he is my Papa – well, my second Papa – Anyway, when I find him, he will-“

“He will probably ask why you are awakening the patients after you have been told not to disturb them,” said someone dryly. The speaker was out of the line of the injured Elf’s vision.

In the hallway, Estel turned to face Lord Elrond, who had his arms crossed and was looking down with mild censure.

“But, Papa,” Estel explained, “He was awake already. And he said I wasn’t bothering him.”

”But why were you here at all, Estel?” Elrond asked, lightly brushing the hair out of the child’s eyes. “You know this person has been injured and needs his rest. Did not Calen-Glad tell you so?”

“I only came to find you, to tell you there are riders coming to our house. I thought you would maybe have come to the Hall to see to your patient, and here you are! And Calen-Glad is not in here, Papa; the stranger was alone.”

“What?” exclaimed Elrond, striding into the Hall of Healing. “I greet you, Friend, in the name of the House of Elrond,” Elrond said to the new Elf distractedly, at the same time gazing around the room. “Where in Arda has that wretched Calen-Glad gone?” he muttered to himself. “Honestly, if Galadriel herself had not sent him to me – the least he could have done was tell Ilothuir to come in.”

“Perhaps they are with one another,” suggested Estel. “I think they must be great friends, for I often see them together on the bridge at night.”

At this, the injured Elf hid a smile behind his hand, and Elrond looked at Estel keenly.

“I see,” said Elrond, contemplating this news.

“Truly,” the stranger hastened to say, “I seem to be very well, all things considered. I thank you for your kindness, Lord Elrond.”

”You are quite welcome. But, Friend, you have the advantage of me, for you know my name but I still do not know yours.”

Elrond and the stranger gazed at one another, and silence filled the room. Things might have become quickly uncomfortable if Estel had not remembered his manners.

“Oh! I have forgotten to tell you my name also.” Estel made a bow. “I am Estel, of the House of Elrond. I and my household are at your service.”

“Hope?” the stranger echoed, referring to the meaning of Estel’s name. “A very apt name, for these times. I thank you, young Estel. And,” the Elf added with some mirth, “I am at your service also – though I am not in any condition to do much. My ankle does not feel as if I could walk on it, and my head is a little sore, to say the least.”

Elrond’s face softened. “Yes, you twisted your ankle when you fell, and you also hit your head and had a nasty bump. Perhaps questions can wait a while.”

There was a cushioned chair near the stranger’s bed, and Elrond sank into it. He was, of course, not about to give up finding out who the patient was, but he would put it off until a later time. “I will make you some tea,” he said to the stranger. “It should help ease any pain. And after you have rested,” he continued in a tone that allowed for no arguments, “we will speak again about this matter of names.”

The eyes of the two locked again. After some moments, the stranger gave a short nod.

Elrond rose, and from the archway Estel pleaded, “So, may I come in, Papa? Please? For your patient seems much better, and I could keep him company and fetch herbs for the tea. Will you be using willow bark? Or didn’t you use nettle once for a swollen ankle?”

“There seems little sense in keeping you away now,” said Elrond, one corner of his mouth tilting up in amusement. “Though when I gave you the rule about waiting for permission before coming entering, I had in mind that you would avoid placing any strain on the health of those resting. I did not mean you should call out from the doorway to whomever was abed.”

Estel entered and went to stand beside Elrond. He looked up at his foster father and then quickly down at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I have not done so before, and I will not again.” He bit his lip.

Elrond ruffled the boy’s hair. “Of that, I have no doubt. Now, come and help me here, and then we will find Nestwen or Ilothuir – or someone else responsible – and have one of them stay with our new friend while we go down and see these visitors you spoke of.”

“They had the biggest horses, Papa!” Estel resumed his exuberance and reached as high as he could towards the height of an imaginary horse. “One was brown and black, and he was very tall and proud looking. The other was not so tall, nor so pretty, but I think it was the kind of horse you might trust to bear you over a rough path. It was white with black spots on its rump. Its step was very-“ Estel could not think of the word he wanted, so instead demonstrated the careful, sure pace of the horse.

The stranger watched the performance with some amusement. “And the other horse? How did it walk?”

“Oh, it was very fine, indeed!” Estel exclaimed, prancing around the room and lifting his knees high. “It went just like this.”

Elrond gave his patient a glance as if to say, “See what you have started now?” But to Estel he only said, “Yes, that does look like a fine horse. Are you able to reach the willow bark by yourself?”

Estel immediately stopped prancing, remembering that he was supposed to be “helping,” and went to the big cupboard. He fetched the willow bark for Elrond and watched with interest as it was ground in a pestle. Estel loved to watch his father working, rapid and certain, with the medicines and herbs they often gathered together.

“I’m going to be a healer when I grow up, too,” Estel said, standing on tiptoe to see Elrond’s movements better.

Elrond stopped for a moment, and his face held an unreadable expression. Then he began to work again. “It cannot do any harm for you to learn the art,” he replied neutrally.

When water was brought to a boil, Elrond finished making the infusion and gave it to to the injured Elf. Estel sat near the bed ready to take the empty cup.

“My Lord?” Estel saw that Erestor had come at last. “There are two messengers from King Thranduil who say they wish to speak with you immediately on a matter of some importance.”

Estel watched in puzzlement as the patient frowned and sank farther down under the covers.

“It’s not supposed to taste nasty,” Estel said, peering into the cup. “I saw Papa add the honey.”

“Yes,” Lord Elrond was saying to Erestor, “Estel had told me we had visitors.” At  this, Estel shot Erestor a superior smile. “Did they say what they had come for?”

Erestor shook his head. “They did not, but they did say they could not wait. They are in the Receiving Chamber now.”

“Hm…” said Elrond. He turned to his foster son. “Would you like to come with me, Estel?”

Estel was surprised. “But you always say I am not old enough go with you to the Receiving Chamber while you are working.”

Elrond smiled. “I think today I have changed my mind. I would like you to see some of the things I do besides healing, and perhaps you may learn to enjoy those, as well.”

“But what if the matter is private?” objected the stranger from his bed, looking alarmed.

Elrond raised his eyebrows. “Then Estel could easily go elsewhere, could he not? Why do you ask, my friend? Is there some reason you might think this business of King Thranduil’s should be private?”

The Elf scowled. “I could not say what private messages Thranduil might send you.”

“We will soon find out then, will we not? Come, Estel. Erestor, would you be so kind as to find a healer to come in and tend to this young Elf? Nestwen or one of the others – but not Calen-Glad, please. I wish to speak to him before he is allowed here again.”

----

Glorfindel sat on Elrond’s right hand and Estel sat on Elrond’s left in the Receiving Chamber. The chairs were tall, of carved wood and uncomfortable, especially because Estel’s feet did not touch the floor yet. Nevertheless, he tried to keep still and solemn, since he wanted to be invited to sit with Papa more often.

The doorman, Tavor, opened the doors and announced, “Lindir and Nordheth of Mirkwood are here to see Lord Elrond.”

Estel was about to wave to Tavor when he caught his Elrond’s eye. He hastily put down his hand.

The two Elves whom Estel had seen earlier in the day entered the room and knelt before Elrond, bowing their heads. Estel was surprised at this, for he knew there was usually not so much formality in Imladris; perhaps things were done differently in Mirkwood.

Apparently, Elrond did not like the formality either, because he asked them to rise again nearly as soon as their knees hit the floor.

Estel openly stared at the two Mirkwood Elves as they rose. They had not changed clothes before entering the presence of Lord Elrond. The one in green-gray was a slender male with a long face, dressed a little more formally than the other. The Elf in the darker colors was female, and she had the shortest hair Estel had ever seen on an Elf: it was cut just above her shoulders. Both looked exhausted, as if they had been riding hard and had stopped but little.

“You have a message for me?” Elrond asked them.

“My Esteemed Lord,” said the Elf in gray. “Thank you for granting us audience on such short notice. I am Lindir, of Mirkwood, advisor to King Thranduil. My companion is Nordheth, whom you know has long been the courier between Imladris and Mirkwood.”

Estel could not remember ever seeing Nordheth before. But then, he could not remember King Thranduil ever sending a message before. All he knew of Mirkwood was a little spot on one of Papa’s maps.

Lindir continued, “The King would send his most humble apologies regarding his son’s unseemly imposition upon your well-known hospitality. The king asks pardon for his son’s behavior and that you will send him home with us as soon as possible.”

“But how could the king know his son was here?” wondered Elrond aloud. “For it is true that we recently found a wounded stranger in our midst, but that was only yesterday. Could he have been in the valley so long without our knowing?”

“That could well be, Lord Elrond,” Nordheth put in. “For all the Mirkwood Elves are wood-wise.”

When Glorfindel subtly raised a brow at Elrond, Estel knew right away what he was thinking. Why had Papa thought the stranger might be King Thranduil’s son? He hadn’t said anything about that.

Elrond looked thoughtful. “Well, if our injured friend is indeed the son of Thranduil, he cannot be moved as yet. Nor will I dismiss him if he asks for sanctuary here, unless you can tell me of some reason why we should not.”

Lindir and Nordheth glanced at one another, trying to communicate without words. Finally Lindir turned back to Elrond. “We cannot speak of our reasons without the King’s consent, I am afraid.”

Estel could see his Papa begin to look frustrated.

Glorfindel leaned towards Elrond. “Perhaps, Lord Elrond, it would be wise to let the messengers speak with your patient. At least they can identify him for certain as the son of their king.”

Elrond nodded slowly. “There is some merit to what you say. But,” he warned the other Elves. “You will only speak to him for a moment, and you will not upset him.”

Another glance was exchanged between the two.

“We will do our best, my lord.”

____

Once again, Estel was forced to leap to keep up with the older Elves in a hurry. His mind raced almost as fast as his feet. Was the strange Elf indeed the king’s son? And if so, why was he gone from Mirkwood, and why would King Thranduil have to send messengers to bring him back?

As they reached the Hall of Healing, Elrond and Glorfindel went in first. On the other side of the room, Nestwen rose, bowed, and left. Estel stopped too quickly and his smooth leather-soled shoes nearly slid out from under him.

The injured Elf turned his head to face the party of Elves near the passageway.

“Why, Lindir, Nordheth,” said the patient calmly. “What a great surprise to see you here.” In fact, the Elf did not look surprised at all. Instead, he was wearing an expression of self-satisfaction.

Nordheth looked shocked, her mouth opening and closing without sound, and Lindir made much the same face Estel thought he might have made upon finding half a worm in his apple.

“But – but –“ Lindir sputtered to the Elf in bed, “Where is Laegyrn? Why are you here?”

The patient’s eyebrows rose. “Did you not notice me missing? Ah, well, I should expect such things by now, I suppose.”

“Wait a moment,” Elrond interrupted. “What is going on here? Is this King Thranduil’s son or not?”

”Oh, aye!” said Nordheth sharply. “It is Thranduil’s son, right enough. Only it happens this is not the son we are looking for. This is Legolas Greenleaf, the king’s younger son. It is Laegyrn Thranduilion, King Thranduil’s eldest, that we have been seeking!” She added with a withering look at Legolas, “As you well know. Where is he?”

Legolas looked smug. “I am sure I could not say, my lady. Did you look yet under the bed?”

Nordheth and Lindir both began to go red in the face, but before any angry words could begin, Elrond said in a loud voice, “I think that is enough. I would hate to tire, er, Legolas. And I did only promise you two a few moments. Meanwhile, Glorfindel and Erestor will be happy to show you to your rooms. Please, enjoy the hospitality of the House of Elrond.”

Glorfindel took that as a cue and began to usher the objecting Elves out of Legolas’ room.

Estel sat on the bed, although he was not supposed to. He watched as his papa and Legolas looked at each other.

“So,” said Elrond.

“So,” Legolas replied.

“You left a trail behind you that my seven-year-old son of Men could find,” Elrond said. He did not sound angry, but he did sound as if he were asking a question.

“Estel must have sharp eyes,” Legolas returned. He gave Estel a smile, which the boy returned.

“But not as sharp as an Elf of Mirkwood,” countered Elrond. “An Elf of Mirkwood would have noticed that he was leaving such marks on the ground.”

“Perhaps I did not,” Legolas said, looking at the ceiling.

“Perhaps.” Elrond was silent a few moments. “I meant what I said about you needing to rest, son of Thranduil. And when you awaken, remember that, as you have been told, I and my household are at your service.”

Before supper that evening Estel had a language lesson with Glorfindel. Or at least, he was supposed to have had a language lesson with Glorfindel. Although Elrond had provided a very pleasant, comfortable room for formal studies and all Estel's tutors tried to keep the lessons short in deference to his age, languages were an exercise that neither Glorfindel nor Estel really enjoyed.

"I do not like the Common Tongue," Estel said grouchily. "It is ugly." He rested his chin on folded arms and glared at Glorfindel from under lowered brows. "Besides, I shall never need it. I shall never live with my mother's people. I am going to stay in Imladris."

Glorfindel sighed with the weariness of one who has covered the same arguments over and over again. "Someday you may change your mind, Estel, and then you will be glad to speak as others of your race do."

Estel glowered. "I will not change my mind," he muttered. "And I do not like the way the words sound. When I hear them they remind me of someone taken with a fit of coughing."

Glorfindel frowned. "I cannot dispute that. Nevertheless, Lord Elrond has commanded that you learn the tongue of your mother's people, and learn it you must. Come, we will start with these words here. Do you remember the word for -"

"I do not wish it," Estel said again, and this time with resolute stubbornness he pushed the short list of words away, nearly tipping the inkwell.

Glorfindel was taken aback. "This is not like you, Estel. You never behave in the manner of a spoiled child. What is the matter?"

Estel was silent.

Glorfindel tried again, more gently. "Estel? Does something trouble you?"

Estel scowled harder. Glorfindel waited with a patience earned over the course of three ages.

Finally, after many long moments, a small, shiny tear laid a trail from the corner of Estel's eye and down his sullen face to drip off of his chin. Estel didn't move until Glorfindel put an arm around him. Then Estel buried his face in his arms and began to cry in earnest, making both choked noises and sputtering incomprehensible words.

Glorfindel, more than a little bemused, patted Estel's back and said silly, meaningless things like, "there, there," and "now, now."

It seemed as though once started, Estel really could not stop crying. Through the sobs Glorfindel thought he made out the words, "not fair" and "maps" and "blossoms." Glorfindel had not Elrond's powers of deduction and could make nothing of this.

"What is that you say?" Glorfindel asked during a lull. "What is not fair?"

"Elladan teaches me tracking," wailed Estel.

This perplexed Glorfindel. "But you like to go with Elladan to learn wood lore."

"And you teach me history," sniffled Estel, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Glorfindel winced and resolved that hereafter he would always carry a handkerchief on his person. "Well, I like history. I was there for much of it."

Estel nodded as if it should all make sense now. "And Erestor likes figures, so he teaches me arithmetic. And Elrohir likes maps, so he teaches me maps. And Papa teaches me herbs and how to read better."

"Yes…" Glorfindel tried hard to understand, but he was finding it difficult to follow Estel’s train of thought.

Estel nodded tearfully and took a shivery gulp of air. "Mother likes the Common Tongue. She doesn't even speak Sindarin unless she has to." He began to cry all over again.

Then Glorfindel knew what Estel was trying to say and he felt his heart drop. "Oh, Estel." He pulled the little boy onto his lap and tried to comfort him.

When Estel spoke again it was in fractured phrases, for he had reached the hiccupping stage common with small children who have cried too hard to breathe properly. "I brought her some… ch-cherry blossoms… to make her feel better… and she said she liked them, but she still said she wouldn't teach me. She said y-you would do just as well… And then she sat at her window again and she would not look at me and I do not think she l-lo-" Estel could not make himself say the words and began to sob once more.

Fearless, joyful Glorfindel would cheerfully have wrung Gilraen's neck just then. "This cannot continue," he said angrily, more to himself then Estel.

Estel thought the anger must be directed at him and began to pull away from the older Elf.

"Not you, Little One," Glorfindel said, pulling Estel back. "You are fine where you are. Shh. Your mother loves you, Estel. She is just - sad."

Whether it was simple good fortune, or whether Elrohir had been near and his sharp Elf ears had caught the sound of crying, he was walking past the door of the school room in time to hear Glorfindel's last remark.

Elrohir stopped and raised his eyebrows in inquiry. Glorfindel continued to speak to Estel, but slightly louder, and with a pointed glance at Elrohir. "Perhaps if someone explained to your mother how important it is to you that she teach you the Common Tongue herself, she would consent to do so."

"No, she will not," snuffled Estel. "She never pays any attention to me."

Elrohir gave Glorfindel a "we-shall-see-about-that" look and disappeared down the hall, leaving Glorfindel somewhat better satisfied. Elrohir was a very determined Elf, and, better, he had become a sort of friend to Gilraen, in so far as Gilraen had any friends in Imladris.

Legolas flipped idly through a book, not in the mood to read. He glanced at Nestwen, who was primly rolling bandages, and decided it was not worth it to attempt conversation again. He was already bored, yet he knew that he probably had several more days in bed to contend with and it was no one's fault but his own.

Elves heal rapidly, but earlier in the day Legolas had heard Nordheth and Lindir beyond the hall and had made the mistake of rising from bed and leaving his room to hear them better. Unfortunately, Legolas heard nothing of value and he made his ankle much the worse by walking on it.

Nestwen had scolded him roundly when she saw him up out of bed and putting weight on his injury, and then, to Legolas' great embarrassment, she brought Lord Elrond from whatever Important Matter he was attending and into the Hall of Healing to see to Legolas.

Elrond had sighed when he had seen the new damage. "It would have been well if you had not walked on it," he had said as he examined the newly swelling ankle. "I did not think to tell you that you should not, for I thought you would know better."

"Aye," Legolas agreed blandly, though his cheeks flushed a little. "It is not surprising that you thought so."

Elrond rubbed the end of his nose thoughtfully, and then fixed Legolas with a gaze that was half stern, half amused. "Well, I will tell you this time: you should not walk on it again until I give you leave, or you will risk harming yourself further."

"I will try not to,” Legolas acquiesced meekly. Truly, Lord Elrond was being very patient with the abrupt invasion on his household, and Legolas was sorry to be a nuisance.

Elrond shook his head in exasperation. He had been a parent long enough to know the difference between "I'll try not to" and "I will not," but he did not press the issue.

After Elrond left, Legolas found himself restless. There were plenty of books to read and Nestwen to tease, but Legolas had never liked sitting still for long and Nestwen didn't seem to have a very good sense of humor.

Trapped as he was abed, Legolas had little to do but ponder the events that had led him here.

The first part of the plan he and Laegyrn had laid had worked very well. After Thranduil's search party - Nordheth among them - had been dispatched to find any sign of Laegyrn, Legolas had purposefully laid a trail leading the pursuers to the North, toward the Grey Mountains. He took the most taxing trails possible, giving his brother time to reach safety, always staying far enough ahead that he was sure the search party would not catch up with him. Next Legolas had turned and led them all on a merry chase down the Anduin River, and, when enough time had passed, he'd begun to take a direct path through the Misty Mountains and in the direction of Imladris.

Legolas deduced that at some time after he had entered the valley, messages had gone back and forth from the tracking party to his father. And since Elrond's relationship with King Thranduil was sometimes tense, Legolas’ father would certainly not have the entire tracking party intrude upon Lord Elrond's hospitality.

Legolas smiled to himself. His father had been wise in sending Lindir, who had been a good friend to Laegyrn, and whom his brother respected. Lindir might have succeeded in persuading Laegyrn to return, had Laegyrn actually been in Imladris. Moreover, both Lindir and Nordheth were proving very discreet thus far: a good thing, since Legolas was sure his father would not want to share the events of the last few months with Lord Elrond.

Legolas tried to think of what he should do next. Should he return home now? Or should he try and join his brother in Lorien and hear what Galadriel had decided? Might he even remain where he was until affairs worked themselves out? Imladris was very different from lively and sometimes dangerous Mirkwood. It made for a relaxing change. Legolas lay back onto his pillow. He need not decide now, he supposed: at present he could not even leave his very comfortable bed.

******

On the other side of the Last Homely House at the end of a long corridor, a heavy oak door barred the way to a silent set of chambers. Within, Gilraen sat by the window with her embroidery on her lap, remembering other places and other days in May. She was not sewing but the needle and thread let her pretend that she was not entirely idle.

Though the doors in Lord Elrond's house were heavy, they had no locks: it was presumed that everyone knew they should not intrude on someone else's privacy without knocking, and in fact it was an unvoiced rule that one did not even knock without invitation. So Gilraen was surprised when someone strode into the room unannounced and unapologetic.

One of the twins, Gilraen saw. Elladan? No, Elrohir. Definitely Elrohir. The twins looked alike but Elladan could always be counted on to wear more subdued colors, and this Elf was wearing leaf-green trimmed with gold.

Elrohir began to speak Sindarin, but so quickly that Gilraen found it hard to follow. The Elf seemed unusually agitated.

"Slowly, if you please,” Gilraen said in the Common Tongue, wondering apprehensively what could be wrong.

Elrohir paused and took a good look around him.

After five years at Imladris, it seemed Gilraen had not decorated her chambers beyond what Lord Elrond had given her during the first week of her stay. This room had remained all bare white walls and silver-white wood and silver-blue cloth. The chamber was fair, but unadorned and pale, just as Gilraen herself was still fair and yet plainly dressed and pale. In the room where Gilraen sat, a cobalt blue vase full of bright pink blossoms stood on the table, incongruous with the lack of color around it. In a similar way, within the snowy pale of Gilraen's face deep purple-pink shadows lay under her bright blue eyes.

Elrohir saw all of this, and he was silent for a short time before he began speaking again, this time in the language of Men. "My Lady, I do ask your forgiveness for interrupting you, but I must speak to you. It is regarding Hope."

Gilraen smiled sadly. "Ah. Then you have come to the wrong place, good Elf, for you will find no hope here."

Elrohir breathed in slowly, and then exhaled. "I meant," Elrohir gritted out, "your son, whom all of this house calls 'Estel' - Hope, you would say in your tongue. Surely you know the name, Lady Gilraen."

"Oh," Gilraen said absently, poking the needle at the cloth she held. "Yes, Estel. I suppose I was unused to hearing the name in Westron. Does he need something from me, Elrohir?"

"Yes, Gilraen, he needs something from you. He needs a mother, just as he has needed one yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that."

Elrohir waited for Gilraen to speak, but she made no sound. Instead she shook her head and gazed at the beginnings of something in her embroidery hoop: five neat, red stitches were sewn side by side on a field of black. It might have been a flower petal. It might also have been a drop of blood.

Elrohir sighed, crossed the room to Gilraen, and knelt by her. "Gilraen, we must talk. I am sorry I must come to you this way. I know you still mourn your husband-"

Gilraen laughed, and it startled Elrohir.

"You think I mourn Arathorn?" she said bitterly. "My Lord was thrice my age, Elrohir, and a stern man, not much given to affection. Anyone will tell you so."

The Elf blinked in for a few seconds. "For what, then, do you mourn, my Lady?" Elrohir asked softly.

At first Elrohir thought Gilraen would not answer; then, as if something within her snapped, she abruptly flung her needlework to the floor and stood.

"What do I mourn? Must I make a list? Perhaps I mourn my home, or my lands! Perhaps I mourn my kinfolk, for I cannot see them again until Aragorn is safely on the throne - though whether that will ever happen no one can tell. Perhaps I mourn the view from my rooms in my own home, or the loss of the children I might have had, or my son's name - or maybe I only mourn for my best blue dress! Must I decide what I mourn for, son of Elrond, when I have lost everything? Must I make excuses for my sadness? Were I an Elf I could at least choose to fade away or make for the Havens, but as I cannot will you not at least grant me my right to grieve for whatever I choose?"

Elrohir was silent for several moments. "Lady," at last Elrohir said carefully, "you have not spoken of this to any of us."

"And why should I?" Gilraen sat again, wearily, and picked up her abandoned needlework. "What if I spoke of it all? What would it change?"

"It would let us understand you better," Elrohir said gently. "Here you sit, day after day, and neither my father nor my brother nor I know what it is that grieves you so, for you say nothing."

"Everything grieves me," Gilraen said quietly, looking again out her window.

"Even your son?" Elrohir pressed. "Lady, he mourns for the loss of you, just as you mourn for the loss of your kin and your home. If ever I have been a friend to you, or if you think you owe me ought for saving your life, please go to him. See him just once or twice a day, so that he can look forward to you. He misses you, and he does not understand why you forsake him."

Gilraen buried her face in her hands. "I have not the strength to be happy around him, Elrohir. Elrond is as a father to him, and a good one. Aragorn has no need of me."

Elrohir said something sharply in Elvish that made Gilraen look up in astonishment.

"What did you say?" Gilraen asked uncertainly.

"Something I ought not," Elrohir snapped. "Yet I find it difficult to be patient with you while your son sits crying five doors down the hall, thinking you do not love him."

"He - he isn't really, is he?" Gilraen looked a little frightened at the Elf's tone, and very young.

Well, she is very young, Elrohir reminded himself. She was a young bride, even among the Dunedin. "He is," Elrohir affirmed, "or he was a few minutes ago." He continued in a slightly more kind tone, "Will you not come to dine tonight with all the family and guests, instead of eating here? Estel would be very glad to see you."

Gilraen fiddled with her thread unhappily. "I don't-"

"I will be there, and so will Elladan," Elrohir reassured. "And I do not think you will need to say much to Estel. It will be enough for him that you are present."

"Hope," said Gilraen, softly, tracing the line of her embroidery hoop with one finger. "Yes, I will go. And I will… I will see him every day, so that he knows I still care for him. I do not wish my son to cry for me. That sorrow, at least, I can cure."

Light from the sconces lit the room brightly when Glorfindel carried a still hiccoughing, red-eyed child to the dinner table that night. As often happened when guests arrived, the table had been laid out with bright cloth and the most tantalizing feast the cook was capable of preparing.

It was the custom in Elrond’s house that not only the family, but all of the household, and guests as well, dined together at the evening meal. Glorfindel had always enjoyed this habit, but it did make it difficult to slip into dinner unobtrusively. He tried to walk with some amount of dignity as he went up the steps of the dais to sit at the long table. Elrond sat at its head, and Glorfindel seated himself to the Elrond’s right. Elrond raised his brows at Estel’s state.

“A difficult lesson?” Elrond inquired with concern.

“For us both,” Glorfindel affirmed, settling the little boy beside him. “I do not think Estel learned any Westron tonight, but I am not sorry, for he told me of something that has been troubling him. I will be glad to share it with you at another time.” He flicked his gaze across to Nordheth and Lindir, who sat to Elrond’s left tonight. Glorfindel had no wish to air family grievances in public, or to embarrass Estel.

Elrond gave a nod, reaching across the table to touch Estel’s hair. “A hard day, my son?”

Estel gave a snuffle and shrugged.

“Might you tell me about it later?”

Estel shook his head to the negative. He did not want to discuss his unhappiness any more.

Elrond was about to speak again but was interrupted by Elladan, who greeted his father merrily and sat down next to Nordheth. At a signal from Elrond, a servant sang thanks and the meal officially began. Elrond began talking to his guests but was soon distracted.

“Elladan, what have you brought to the table?” Elrond asked, having noticed the folded jacket his son was holding. It moved slightly. “I hope that is not another baby squirrel.”

“No, Father.” Elladan shook his head, balancing the bundle in one hand while he reached for the wine. “It is a baby fox. I found it at the cave. I believe the tree struck its mother during the storm.” At his father’s look he explained, “It must stay with me or it will get too cold.”

Elrond sat back in his chair and drummed the table with his fingers. “I have told you before, Elladan, that animals do not belong at the table.” Elrond’s voice was firm. “If I allow you to bring your fox, then it follows that I must allow Estel to bring his frog or his beetle.”

“Yes, father,” Elladan said serenely, yet eyeing the stuffed quail its silver platter. “I only wish a bite to eat first.” He glanced at Estel. “What is the matter, Estel? Not having a very good day?” Elladan’s coat moved a little again.

“Let me see!” Estel commanded with excitement, misery forgotten, as he half crawled onto the table and leaned forward to peer at the bundle his foster brother held.

Elladan grinned and pulled away one corner so that all present could see the tiny head of the sleeping fox.

Lindir and Nordheth exchanged glances. Thranduil would not have been nearly so tolerant of this unorthodox behavior.

“Oooh,” said Estel, reaching toward the baby animal. “May I pet it, Elladan?”

“Better not to,” Elladan said. “It is sleepy right now, and it still nips. Perhaps after I – “

“Elladan,” cut in Elrond with a hint of impatience. “I say again, you may not bring your animals to my table. Particularly when we have guests,” he added meaningfully.

Elladan drew back, blinking, and took in the two Mirkwood visitors. “I do beg your pardon,” Elladan said, rising hastily. “You must be Nordheth and Lindir.” He again balanced his jacket with one hand while trying to load a plate to carry away with the other. “I am Elladan, son of Elrond, and I am at your service. Do excuse me from the table tonight; I seem to be indisposed. Er, Father, would we have any baby bottles down in storage somewhere?”

“I do not think so,” Elrond said, grateful that his son had taken his hint at last. “There have been no infants in the house for some time. Perhaps if you used a wine bottle and made a small hole in the cork, it would do.”

“A good thought,” Elladan agreed, somehow managing to seize the half-empty bottle of wine off the table as he carried his plate. He turned to the visitors. “I hope you have a pleasant meal. Good night Glorfindel, Father. Good night, Estel. Do not cause too much trouble,” he added, with a grin at the little boy.

“Well!” said Lindir after Elladan had gone, “Imladris seems fated to come by all sorts of strays: injured Elves, humans, orphaned foxes…”

“Not orphaned,” Estel corrected, luckily oblivious to having been included in the list of “strays.” “Elladan is taking care of it now. Papa says we have no orphans in Imladris. It is a tradition.”

All eyes turned to Elrond, who flushed slightly. “That is so. It was my – But here is Erestor at last!”

The councilor made his way to the table and sat at the place that Elladan had so recently vacated.

“Good Evening, Erestor,” Glorfindel said cheerfully. “What kept you? You are not often late.”

“Walnuts,” said Erestor with a glum look, unfolding his napkin. “According to the inventory, there is half a case of walnuts missing from the cellar… Where is my plate? Was this place not set?”

Elrond suppressed a laugh, for he knew Erestor took his job seriously. “I am sorry, my friend, but I am sure there is no need for worry.”  He passed his friend a spare plate from the end of the table, and then the meat and greens.  “We can muddle through the summer on a few less walnuts.”

Erestor, who had taken up his fork to use it on his meat, used it to gesture in a circle in the air instead. “But where have they gone? That is the problem, Lord Elrond, not that they are missing. Did someone miscount? Has the cook used them? Did someone eat them for a snack and forget to say so?” Here he cast a glance at Estel, who scowled. The two did not understand each other well and were not always on the best of terms. “They must have gone somewhere.”

“Perhaps some small animal found the way into the cellar,” Glorfindel said in a serious tone, yet with a twinkle in his eye. “Have you thought to set out some traps? Or perhaps you should set a guard. Even two or three.” Elrond shot him a look, quite sure that Glorfindel had less interest in the missing walnuts than in baiting Erestor into more worry.

Erestor, as usual, did not see the joke. “Well, a guard would not be necessary unless the traps did not work. But I did not see any shells around the ground, so I think it was not-“

“MAMA!” shrieked Estel, nearly standing up in his chair.

Sure enough, Elrohir was leading a nervous Gilraen to the table. Elrond was startled, but pleased. “Lady Gilraen! This is a pleasant surprise. Please, come and sit with us.”

Giving all a small smile, Gilraen sat down by her son, with Elrohir on her other side. She bent and gave her son a kiss on the top of his head. “My Greetings, Darling,” she said in Westron.

“Good Evening, Mama,” Estel returned carefully in the same language. “Mama” had been one of the few words he had retained in Common speech.

“Is Elladan not here tonight?” Gilraen asked, looking around.

Glorfindel shifted into Common to accommodate her. “He has found another animal, and is caring for it.”

“Ah,” Gilraen nodded. She did not feel much like eating, but she supposed it would be only polite to do so. But where was the wine? Had Lord Elrond forgotten it tonight?

Gilraen searched her mind for something to talk about. “What did Elladan find this time?”

As everyone else continued to converse in Westron in order to include Gilraen, Estel began to get bored. Trying to understand the other language was too much work. He occupied himself instead by studying the visitors. They were quite different from the Elves he was used to. Their manner of dress was strange, and they often had an unusually formal manner, as if Papa were king of a castle and not just Papa of the Homely House.

And then there was the matter of Nordheth’s hair. Estel knew Elves found long hair attractive, and both male and female Elves typically had hair well past their shoulders and often much longer than that. Why was Nordheth’s hair so short? Indeed, when Papa cut Estel’s hair, he often had a hard time deciding how long to leave it, for though it was thick and tangled easily, Elrond was loath to cut it off – and Estel was not even an Elf!

Nordheth did not seem to be talking to anyone, so Estel decided to ask her about it.

“Lady Nordheth?” Estel spoke in Sindarin.

The Elf heard Estel and smiled at him. “Yes, Little One?”

“Why is it that you have cut your hair so short?”

All conversation at the table stopped. Estel felt a nudge at his shin, and he scooted back in his chair so he would not get accidentally kicked again.

“Did you cut it that way on purpose?” There was another slightly stronger nudge at Estel’s shin, and he again wiggled to give himself more space.

“I apologize, Nordheth,” Elrond intervened swiftly, trying to catch Estel’s eye and failing. “His age gifts him with a great deal of curiosity.”

“No, do not worry,” Nordheth said. “I do not mind. Yes, Estel, I cut it purposefully. An Orc caught me by the hair once, and as it was not an experience I care to repeat I have kept my hair short ever since.”

“Oh.” Estel considered. Orcs were a serious subject in Elrond’s house, and though Estel could not remember ever seeing an Orc he knew they were very dangerous. “But how did you get away, if the Orc caught you by your hair?”

Estel turned to Elrond, frowning. “Papa, might you move your feet a little? Your foot keeps kicking me under the table.” Seeing the flush on Elrond’s face, he added generously, “I am sure you do not mean to.”

Glorfindel gave a laugh, and Erestor said, “Well, really!”

But Nordheth answered Estel’s question without objection. “My hair was cut off with a sword during the fight, and so I escaped.” She gave a feral grin. “And a bit of the Orc –“ Glorfindel gave a cough and Nordheth quickly temporized, “And a bit of the Orc’s fingers might have been cut as well. That was the first time my hair had ever been cut, and I have never felt the need to grow it out again.”

“That was an adventure, indeed! But, Lady Nordheth, there are no Orcs near Imladris. They would not come in the valley, and my brothers hunt them all the time. So if you wished, I think my Papa would be able to grow your hair long, now that you are here. He is a healer, and I think that he is able to do such things.”

“Estel,” said Elrond, finally deciding subtle messages were of no use. “I think it is time to drop a subject which may make our guest uncomfortable.”

“Oh. Sorry, Papa. I beg your pardon, Lady Nordheth.”

“No harm done,” Nordheth assured, continuing calmly with her meal.

There was a long silence, and then Glorfindel announced loudly that he was hoping to hear some good singing after dinner, and wouldn’t Elrond consent to sing and perhaps have Estel sing a little tune as well, since he had such a very nice voice?

On Estel’s other side, he heard his Mother whisper to Elrohir in Westron. “Elrohir? What just happened?”

*******

Much later, after the meal had been put away and the two Mirkwood Elves walked to the Hall of Fire to hear the promised singing, Nordheth began to laugh.

“What is it?” Lindir asked.

“That was certainly an eventful dinner,” Nordheth chuckled. “Can you imagine what would have happened if it had taken place at the King’s table? Small animals, people in and out –“

Linder laughed too. “Indeed, I cannot. It is little wonder King Thranduil never visits Lord Elrond. He would not have lasted past the fox at the table.”

This set off another peal of laughter from the two of them. King Thranduil was not a bad person, but he did like protocol, especially in public.

“Actually,” Lindir said when the chuckles died down. “I rather liked it. It was not dull.”

“No,” agreed Nordheth, “It was not that.” She paused thoughtfully. “Perhaps it would be a good thing if Legolas stayed here a while.”

Lindir pondered, as well. “Perhaps it would be a good thing for us, too."

Legolas rested in the swaying branches of the beech, and closed his eyes to better appreciate the scent of Narcissus flowers and feel the caress of the cool, mild breeze. He was glad to finally be out of his room, as pleasant as Elrond's house may have been. He had never cared much for being indoors, and the tree was a good place to think.

He was pondering whether he ought to go home, since he could not lead the search party any farther astray now. Thranduil would not be happy about Legolas' part in leading his brother's pursuers on a fool's errand, but there was, after all, no crime in walking to Imladris, even if he had taken rather a long way around.

The branches held Legolas gently, rocking him as he mulled over the possibilities, and each tree of the valley whispered that Imladris was a place of peace.

Legolas could have stayed that way for a long time, but in the midst of his rest his sharp ears caught the sound of footsteps coming closer. He turned his head and looked down to see a strange procession coming into the glade below. Estel came in front, running, then bouncing in place for a few seconds, then running again. Behind him was an Elf in forest-colored clothes with a rook on his shoulder, and behind them stepped a tiny fox cub, sniffing in circles after every step.

In the middle of the glade, the Elf with the crow took something out of the front pocket of his tunic, then scooped up the little fox and deposited it within the folds of his cloak. Legolas leaned farther over to see what was happening.

On the ground, the Elf let Estel move closer to see the creature held in his hands: a lively little field mouse.

"This is a good place," Estel’s tall friend said. "Close your eyes." The Elf walked very quietly a few paces away and bent down to release the soft gray mouse back into the grass. The crow flapped its wings in annoyance. "Keep them closed."

Estel shifted from one foot to the other impatiently, his eyes still screwed tightly closed. "I am not looking, Elladan. Is it gone yet?"

The Elf called Elladan stroked the head of the large crow that sat on his shoulder and stooped down to get a better look at the mouse fast disappearing through the brush. "A moment longer… Now! You may open your eyes!"

Estel opened his eyes. He looked first at Elladan, who stood with the crow on his shoulder and a pair of black fox eyes peeking over a bulge in his cloak.

Estel walked first nearer to Elladan's well-used boots and studied the earth beside them, then went down on his knees and scrutinized the raw earth between the leaves and pine needles and grass.

"This is hard," Estel said, intent on looking for signs of the little creature.

Elladan watched the boy search for a few minutes. "Do you need help in order to get started?" he asked.

Estel shook his head. "No, I will be able to do it. Let me look."

Legolas watched with interest from his tree. In truth, he was not sure to what extent Men were capable of tracking animals as Elves were, and he feared Elladan might have given Estel an impossible task. He knew the Rangers of the north often tracked remarkably well - given their limited eyesight - but he had never asked about or tested their limits. He wondered if Elladan had trouble assessing, at times, when he should stop treating Estel like an Elfling and accept that the boy had reached his potential as a Man.

Just as Legolas had decided that Estel was not able to find the mouse, after all, Estel surprised him by exclaiming, "I see it,Elladan! I see a part of the print of the mouse's toes!"

"Very good!" Elladan praised. "Now, can you tell which direction it went?"

Estel scooted along on his knees, looking carefully, and pointed. "In that direction. And Elladan, look! Here is another place where his tail touched the ground!"

"You are doing well. Do you think you can follow it?"

Estel nodded, once again sliding along the muddy earth. "I see the path." He looked up at Elladan again. "I do not think I can track it quietly, Elladan. If I am on my knees, I will make noise, but if I stand I will not be able to see so well."

Legolas noted that the boy, at least, seemed to know his own limitations.

Elladan, apparently, was used to accomadating the abilities of the boy, and said, "You need only follow the mouse as far as you can. We will save 'quietly' for a different exercise."

With great concentration and slowness, Estel began to lead Elladan across the glade. For the next fifteen minutes, Estel made his way toward the brush where the field mouse had disappeared.

"I found it!" Estel cried, beginning to crawl under the brambles to find the mouse.

"That is enough for today," Elladan said, putting a hand on the Estel's shoulder to stop him going farther. "Father will be surprised enough at the state of your clothes without you ripping them in the bushes as well."

Estel himself seemed surprised as he looked down at himself and noticed his shoes and leggings were covered in mud and decorated with an occasional wet leaf. "I did not notice. Do you think Papa will mind?"

Elladan smiled. "Not if it does not mark his floors. Come, let us go find Elrohir. You can tell him how very well you did today before you begin your geography lesson. I am very proud of you for finishing such a difficult task: a mouse is not any easy thing to track…What are you doing, Estel?"

Estel was on his hands and knees again. "I found something else! Look!"

Elladan came close to Estel and glanced down. "Many Elves walk in the glade."

"I am going to follow these tracks, too."

Elladan smiled indulgently. "If you like." He took out the small fox from a pocket in his cloak. The fox, once on the ground, again began to poke his nose at everything close by, and followed the Elladan as he began to move. The crow squawked jealously, and Elladan reached into his pocket to bring out a treat for it.

From his perch in the tree, Legolas watched with amusement as Estel carefully found the bowed grass where he had stepped on his way to the beech. Legolas had not been trying to hide his prints today, of course, but he was still impressed by the child’s abilities. The group on the ground came closer and closer until Estel abruptly stopped at the foot of the tree.

"They end here," Estel said, pointing at the foot of the tree.

"So it seems," Elladan replied, gazing upward.

Legolas gave Elladan a jaunty wave, and Elladan smiled back.

Estel focused on the ground for a few seconds, thinking hard, and then followed Elladan's gaze to Legolas. He jumped up and down with delight.

"Legolas! Greetings! What are you doing up there?"

"Greetings, Estel. I was only enjoying being in a tree again, and thinking. Who is your friend?"

"This is Elladan, son of Elrond. Elladan, this is my friend Legolas, son of Th- Th-"

"Thranduil," supplied Legolas.

"Son of Thranduil," finished Estel.

"Prince Legolas of Mirkwood? I had heard you had come, though I have not seen you." Elladan stroked the head of his crow thoughtfully.

"No, you would not," Legolas replied. "For your father had ordered me to stay abed these past few days." The restriction had ostensibly been for his ankle, but Legolas knew he could have been up and around with crutches long before this. He suspected Elrond had known how very much Legolas had needed the rest.

"I tracked a mouse today!" Estel said proudly.

"So I saw," Legolas said. "I am very impressed. Following such a small creature is not easy without Elvish eyes."

"I have very sharp eyes, don't I, Elladan?"

"Aye," agreed Elladan. "And now, Estel, I am sorry to make you say good-by so soon, but Elrohir will be waiting for you by the river."

Estel pouted. "But I don't want to go yet. I am talking to Legolas."

Elladan leaned against the beech. "Yet you don't want to disappoint Elrohir, who is expecting you," he pointed out.

Estel lowered his brows and scowled, and for a moment Legolas thought he would work himself into a temper. Instead, the little boy said at last, "Then I want Legolas to come and play with me while I do my maps."

Legolas sent a questioning look to Elladan.

"Elrohir will not mind that," Elladan confirmed. "But Legolas may have other plans for his afternoon than playing at geography with little boys."

"No, I will come," Legolas said. Estel had come to his room with cheerful conversation every day since his arrival, and Legolas had begun to enjoy his company. Besides, Legolas thought, no matter how much he mused it would not make his decisions any easier. He swung lightly down from the tree, careful to favor the stronger foot, and he followed boy, Elf, fox and crow as they all set off toward Elrond's house.

They passed the main bridge, and Legolas chuckled to himself as he saw that Ilothuir, whom Legolas knew from her assistance to Elrond in the Hall of Healing, was indeed standing on the bridge with a dark-haired Elf, whose face Legolas could not see. The two stood very close, with fingers interlaced. They seemed deep in conversation, oblivious to the world around them - until Ilothuir caught sight of Legolas, Elladan, and Estel. Apparently embarrassed, she took her lover by the hand and led him away, probably to somewhere more private.

"Legolas!" came a call behind him.

Legolas sighed as Lindir caught up with them. He tried to smile at his father's advisor, for he really had nothing against him, but he had known this moment would come and had not been looking forward to it.

"You two go on. I will follow soon," Legolas promised. He turned back to Lindir. "My greetings, Lindir. Is there something I can help you with?"

Lindir shook his head. "No, I only wanted to tell you that Nordheth has gone back out of the valley and over the pass to tell the rest of the camp to go back to Mirkwood. Those who came with us will tell the king that Laegyrn is not here, and that you were injured but are now well, and that Nordheth and I have volunteered to stay here with you. If you wish to return to Mirkwood soon, we will be happy to escort you."

Legolas' eyebrows shot up. "Do I need a guard now, too? Tell me what I have done to warrant one!"

Lindir looked away. "You do not understand. We stay here for your protection, not only as a guard. There were those who would accuse you of aiding your brother's escape, even in Mirkwood, and now that you have led half a dozen scouts astray it can only seem the more likely."

Legolas gave a noncommittal shrug, half agreeing with the other Elf. "You are saying that there are those in Mirkwood who will be angry."

"You cannot deny there has been a great deal of tension at home lately," Lindir answered.

Legolas nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "True. So tell me, Counselor Lindir, what will you do if I do not choose to go back with you to Mirkwood for the time being?"

Lindir hesitated. "The courier and I will remain here with you. King Thranduil will not wish us to lose track of you, but we will not force you to come with us unless he sends word that he wishes you to return home."

Legolas snorted. It would take nearly a month for the riders to return to King Thranduil and then come again to Imladris with the king's orders. "You might well guess that he wishes me brought back to him."

For the first time during their conversation, Lindir smiled. "I might well guess. But I will not." He laid a hand on Legolas arm. "I have known you since childhood, Legolas, and your brother as well. I would not wish ill for either of you."

Legolas blinked in surprise. "I thank you, Lindir. That is… unexpected. And very kind."

"Legolas!" called a childish voice from somewhere not far down the river.

"I will go now," Legolas said. "Elrond's foster son seems to want me at a geography lesson. But Lindir, I - am grateful to you, for giving me the choice."

Still smiling, Lindir bowed and turned away.

Legolas was surprised to see that the geography lesson was not indoors, but beside the riverbank. Estel made happy introductions to Elrohir, who was a mirror image of Elladan in face and form, but was much less quiet.

Then Estel took Legolas by the hand and tugged him to an area a few feet away where the earth was mostly bare. A map of the lands from Lindon to the Iron hills, and as far south as Gondor, lay drawn out in the sand near where the river passed. Smooth piles of rocks had been carefully placed for mountains, and twigs and pine needles abounded where the forested lands lay. Roads had been traced out, and rivers were shallow channels in the earth.

Legolas was taken aback. He had never known a child to be taught the lay of the land in any way other than maps on parchment coupled with solid study.

"Can he truly learn anything from this?" Legolas asked Elrohir in wonderment.

"Oh, aye," affirmed Elrohir. "If you lay out before him a well-drawn map, he knows every pass and town is, and names each."

From a box beside him, Estel was already unpacking little carved pieces of wood apparently meant to designate towns or cities. When he finished he went to Legolas. "Let me show you! Here are the Misty Mountains, and the Anduin River flows this way, and this is our river, called Bruinen, or Loudwater. We live just here - this is Imladris. And here is Mirkwood, where you are from. The Great Forest is in the shape of a fish with its head cut off, see?"

"I had not noticed that before," Legolas said, laughing. "But it is so." Getting into the spirit of the game, he reached over for a small rock and nestled it among the twigs. "That shall mark the caves of my father, Thranduil."

"And today we are building Rohan," Estel said enthusiastically. "And when we are finished, I will pretend to ride my horse there, and Elrohir will tell me everything we see."

"Ingenious," murmured Legolas, walking around what would have been the Bay of Belfalas. "Much better than sitting inside and copying."

"There will be some of that, too, later," Elrohir said. "But for now, this is enough." He winked at Legolas. "Would you care to help us build the White Mountains?"

"Aye, gladly," said Legolas, for Estel clearly expected him to participate in this venture. He knelt down, trying not to disturb Gondor as he did so.

"Well!" came a disgusted voice a few minutes later. "The son of King Thranduil, kneeling in the dirt and playing with stones. I'm sure your father would be proud, Legolas."

Legolas turned and gazed upward at the Elf standing behind him, barely suppressing a groan. If he had had to count on his fingers the very last people he wanted to see just now, Medlin would have been in the top three.

Estel looked up from his work, irritated. In his imaginings he had been riding a tall white horse through the gap of Rohan and over a lush green plain on his way to Gondor. He had not quite decided what he was going to do once he arrived in Gondor, but he was annoyed to be interrupted, just the same.

A dark-haired Elf, short for his race, stood a few feet away. He dropped a bulky canvas bag to the ground and scowled at Legolas as if Legolas had done something extremely irksome. It was plain by the expression on Legolas' face that he did not like the stranger very much.

"Well met, Medlin," Legolas said without enthusiasm. "I am surprised to see you here. I thought you were camped outside the valley with the others."

"No doubt you did," said the new Elf in a cold voice.

Estel took satisfaction in the mischievous little wind that blew just then, shaking pink blossoms from a nearby tree and carrying them in a small, circular storm around the grumpy Elf. Several flew neatly into his hair, and many danced right in front of his nose, causing the stranger to snort.

"I am surprised to see you, too, as you might imagine," continued Medlin, waving his hand at the teasing blossoms as he might wave away a swarm of flies. "Nordheth made her way back to camp this morning to tell us all the story. You must have thought your deception very amusing. Had I any say in the matter, I and the rest of the tracking party would be taking you home today, willingly or no. But Nordheth says that she and Lindir will wait for word from your father as to his wishes."

"Lindir has decided the matter, yes," said Legolas evenly, standing and brushing off his knees. He folded his arms and eyed at the other Elf. "He knows my father well. No doubt he knows best."

"Faugh," spat Medlin. "Lindir is a fool." He added, "You were foolish also, Legolas. You should not have kept us all chasing nothing these past months."

Estel's eyes grew round. He had never heard one Elf speak so rudely to another - not on purpose. Elrohir seemed dismayed as well, and he stepped forward hastily, placing himself partly in front of Legolas.

"Medlin, was it? My greetings to you. I am Elrohir, son of Elrond, and I am at your service." Elrohir's tone was friendly and his smile welcoming.

Almost everyone fell subject to Elrohir's agreeable nature right away, but Medlin scowled.

"I am Medlin, servant of Thranduil. I thank you for your greetings." Estel thought that Medlin did not sound as if he really was thankful at all.

"I had heard from Lindir that the scouting party was going back to Mirkwood today," Elrohir said pleasantly. "You are not planning to go with them?"

If possible, Medlin looked more wrathful. "No, I am not. If Lindir is feeling softhearted and Nordheth unusually lazy, I, for one, am still the king's loyal subject. I intend on staying here and making full sure that Legolas does not wander off again and cause yet more harm."

Estel pictured Medlin as the evil king Ar-Pharazôn, and found that it was not a difficult image to conjure. Nor was it difficult for him to imagine Medlin, as evil king Ar-Pharazôn, sinking ever so slowly into the sea with that same scowl affixed to his face.

Legolas' mouth was in a tight line, but all he said was, "I see. My father is lucky, then, to have such a subject."

"Well then!" Elrohir said easily. "Since you will be staying with us, Medlin, allow me to offer you the hospitality of Lord Elrond. May I help you find a room in our household? Unless you would rather stay in the guest cottage?"

Estel guessed that, despite Elrohir's friendliness, Elrohir hoped the strange Elf would not choose to stay in the house. Estel certainly hoped he would not.

Medlin snorted. "Would that you had offered all of the camp that same hospitality when we reached the valley! Yes, I will take a room in the house, if that is where Legolas stays, and I will take a room as close to his as possible, so that I might keep my eye on him."

Legolas opened his mouth in angry objection, but Elrohir spoke first in calm, placating tones that reminded Estel of his papa. "Lindir did not ask that we offer hospitality to the Elves camped above, or we would have given it. We will see to your comfort, Medlin, but I do not know which of the guest rooms are still available, as we have had many visitors of late. Come, I will show you which rooms you may choose from, so that you can put away your gear and be at ease."

Medlin might have denied Elrohir's invitation, but Elrohir picked up Medlin's pack and turned to lead the way to the main house.

Medlin started to follow, then turned to Legolas. "I will be watching you, whatever new tricks you try."

Cutting off any reply, Elrohir spoke quickly. "Medlin, I have just thought: perhaps I should send some supplies to go back with the others from your camp. Would you be so kind as to help me in choosing what might be most needed?" As Elrohir spoke, he moved towards the path, still carrying Medlin's baggage. Over his shoulder he said, "I think we are done for the day, Estel. You may do as you like until the evening meal."

Estel nodded silently, feeling subdued by Medlin's antagonism. He watched as Elrohir and the unpleasant newcomer made their way to Elrond's house, and then turned to Legolas.

"Medlin was not very nice to you," Estel said indignantly.

Legolas gave a tired sigh. "No, he was not, was he? But he has been asked to deal with some difficult matters of late, so perhaps I should not hold too much against him."

Estel stretched and stood, beginning to pack away his little towns and figures. "If my papa heard me talk to anyone that way, I would be having a very long Thinking Time. And Medlin is a grown-up, so he should know better."

Legolas laughed. "Perhaps Medlin's papa was not as conscientious as yours." He changed the subject. "The weather is beginning to be warm. I have heard that the late spring festival, Nost-na-Lothion, is celebrated in Imladris. Will you be at the festival next week?"

Legolas had unwittingly touched on a sore subject with Estel. The little boy scuffed the ground with his shoe. "Papa says the festival will be very late at night and I will not be allowed to stay awake so long. Again." Estel kicked at the dirt once more and displaced a portion of the White Mountains that he had just finished building.

Legolas gave Estel a sympathetic smile. "I see. Well, no doubt you will be allowed to attend in a year or two. I have never been to Nost-na-Lothion, either, for it is not a tradition we carry on in the Great Forest. We have other festivals, of course."

"I want to go this year," Estel groused. "But I cannot argue with Papa, I guess."

Legolas patted Estel's shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. "That is very wise of you - when I was your age I would have screamed and stomped until I was hoarse when I wanted something I could not have."

Estel gave Legolas a dubious glance. "Elf children do not throw temper tantrums," he said uncertainly.

Legolas chuckled. "Oh, Estel, I do not know who has told you such things, but Elflings do indeed throw temper tantrums, as my mother and father would tell you." He paused, shaking his head as if at some half-forgotten memory. "Though Elflings are usually better behaved than children of Men or Dwarves, I was a very ill-behaved child indeed." Apologetically he added, "I do not mean you, of course. You are very well-mannered."

"Yes," said Estel gloomily, "Erestor says the same." Estel had once heard Erestor say he was "abnormally well-behaved, especially for a mortal child."

Estel was growing worried about all these passing comments. He had played with few children near his own age and had little basis for comparison: nearly everyone he knew was literally hundreds of times older than he. Would most children really throw tantrums to try and obtain an invitation to a night festival?

Estel was about to ask Legolas what he thought, but when he saw his expression Estel asked instead, "Are you well?" For Legolas was very pale.

Estel followed Legolas' gaze. He did not see anything but Calen-Glad and Ilothuir coming around the bend in the path. The couple and Legolas were all staring at one another with what seemed to be dismay. Then, without saying a word, Calen-glad turned and fled, and Ilothuir paused only a moment before following him.

"Will you excuse me, young friend?" Legolas said in a strangled voice. "I think I must see your father's apprentices about something." He hurried off, leaving Estel to wonder what made adults' behavior so inexplicably strange.

Estel loved the library: it smelled like old paper and wood oil, and it had a large fireplace and many windows and places to sit and read. it was always bright and warm and quiet, and Elrond had a small study off to one side. Estel could see his papa through the open door, writing something on a piece of parchment.

He began to pull some books from the shelves, mostly slender volumes with bright illustrations, and started to skim through them for information. He had decided to investigate the matter of the natural behaviors of the children of men. He soon forgot why he had come to the library, however, as he became immersed in a particularly good story, and he read on the floor without moving for a long while.

"What are you so captivated with, Estel?" Elrond asked, breaking the silence and startling the little boy. Estel's papa had quietly moved into the library and now sat on the floor nearby, his arms wrapped around one drawn-up knee and his head tilted to one side with a look of interest.

Estel pointed to a passage he had come to that had fascinated him. "It says here that the Elf-lord Thingol took the man-child Tùrin as his foster son. That is like us."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Elrond slowly. "Although I am Peredhil: ‘half-Elven,’ as your people would say. I would not call myself an Elf-lord, as I have told you before."

Estel ignored what to him was a meaningless distinction. "Tùrin's father was gone, too," Estel rambled excitedly. "And his mother was sad, like mine."

Elrond, perhaps remembering what happened later in Tùrin's tale, gently took the book from his foster son and rubbed thoughtfully at the spine. "This is not your usual reading matter. When did you stop reading Tom Bombadil stories?"

Elrond smiled at the little boy, but Estel, remembering why he had come, did not feel like smiling back.

"Some of the words are hard, but I was reading it because…" Estel trailed off, not knowing how to ask his question. Instead he said experimentally, "I would like to go to Nost-na-Lothion this year." He left off the "please" on purpose.

"We discussed the matter already, did we not?" Elrond slid the book back in its place on the shelf. "I am inclined to think it will keep you up too late, and then you would be too excited to sleep well afterwards and would be in an ill temper come the morn." He shook his head. "I am sorry, Estel, I truly do not think it a good idea. When you are older you may go."

Taking a deep breath, Estel stood, ready to be unruly. Elrond's deep gray eyes followed placidly as Estel lifted his foot and prepared to stomp it down, hard. Yet, now that he was under Elrond’s calm gaze, Estel suddenly discovered he did not feel like stomping. Estel scrunched up his face and drew in a breath, ready to yell, but was unexpectedly intimidated by the profound silence of the library. Again Estel picked up his foot as if to stomp it, again he felt embarrassed and put his foot down lightly instead.

Elrond watched all these proceedings with curiosity. "Estel, what are you doing?"

Estel looked down at his shoe, twisting his toe. "Nothing," he said dejectedly, sitting once more.

Lord Elrond rubbed his nose. "My son, I hardly dare ask, but…was that some variation of a fit of childish temper?"

Estel drew his brows together morosely and slumped. "Well…it was supposed to be, but I felt silly."

Elrond made a choking sound. Estel looked up suspiciously to see if Elrond was laughing, but he was only coughing loudly.

"I did not know I had made you so angry," Elrond said when he had regained his composure.

"No, you did not," admitted Estel. "I am disappointed, but I did not really feel very much like stomping my feet."

Elrond rubbed his nose again, a sure sign that he was puzzled. "Then why did you decide to do so? You must know that I would not have granted you leave to go to the celebration just because you stomped at me."

Estel shrugged, still unhappy. "I…Papa, am I a strange child? Different from other children?"

Elrond was surprised. "What? No, of course not." He leaned forward to touch Estel's hair affectionately. "In fact, you remind me a little of Elladan when he was your size."

"But Elladan was an Elf!" Elrond opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Estel continued, "I mean, am I like other mortal children? Other Men my age? Am I too good?"

Elrond did laugh at this. "You are naughty enough at times."

"As often as other children? Erestor and some of the others say that other mortal children are not like me. Even Legolas says so, and he has not been here a week yet."

Elrond, seeing Estel was honestly concerned, smothered any hint of levity. He sat closer to Estel and wrapped an arm around the child. "Estel, you must understand that the valley   itself is full of peace. Even were you not a child of good temperament - and I think you are - you would find yourself reluctant to become overly vexed about small matters." He smoothed the child's hair back - it never seemed to stay in its braids or clips. "I have been remiss, perhaps, in not seeing that children visit Imladris more often, but I am never certain…" he trailed off. "Well, that is my worry, not yours. I will try and find some playmates near your own age to visit us. Would you like that?"

"Maybe," said Estel cautiously. It would be enjoyable to have a young friend, but his memories of visits with other children were always so … loud.

Now that he had broached the subject, Estel decided to continue. "Papa, couldn't I come to the Nost-na-Lothion festival for a little while? Please? Someone could come and wake me," suggested Estel with a burst of ingenuity. "And then I would watch just for a while. I would go straight back to bed, I promise!" Had he but known it, pleading look he gave Elrond was far more effective than a tantrum would have been.

Elrond's eyes crinkled with silent laughter. "Ai! Shall I reward your creative thinking? Or shall I do the easier thing…Very well. If you find someone to wake you and take you back to bed, you may watch the dancing for an hour only. But I cannot do it, for as the host I must stay on the green."

"Thank you, Papa," Estel said, flinging his arms about his foster father in a grateful hug. "I will ask Mama if she will wake me."

"That is a good plan," Elrond said slowly. "And I would very much like to see your mother enjoying herself. But remember that she has never been to a festival in Imladris, and she may not wish to go to this one."

Estel was surprised. "Of course she will want to go, if I tell her what fun it will be." Estel sat back on his heels thoughtfully. "I had better ask Elrohir to come with me, in case I have trouble with my Westron."

Elrond relaxed. "That is well thought of - Elrohir will certainly be of help to you."

Estel nodded and carefully put the books back on the shelf before going in search of Elrohir.

Since it was his first festival, Estel was determined to make the most of it. On the day of the festival of the Birth of Flowers, Estel went hunting for the most beautiful, unusual flowers he could find to weave into his hair that night.

After many hours meticulously examining every flower anywhere near the house, Estel wandered to the bridge to watch the waterfall. As he looked up the side of the steep rise, he noticed a small, inconspicuous plant with the most elegant flowers imaginable growing about six feet up the side of the hill. They were delicate and star-shaped, of a pale, pale blue, with white streaks and a bright gold center. Estel was entranced.

How had he missed them all this time? Could he reach them? It would certainly be difficult, but they were by far the most beautiful flowers he had seen.

Estel began to climb up the embankment to pick them, but before he had gone very far he slid and fell back to the ground, scraping the palms of his hands as he tried to find a hold. Again he scrambled up the face of the hill, and this time he almost managed to grab the flowers when he lost his footing again. This time he scraped not only his hands, but his knee as well.

Estel was beginning to doubt the wisdom of this venture. Yet, looking again at the pretty, star-shaped flowers, he was filled with determination. This time, he went slowly and chose each step with care. He had just closed his hand around the stems of the flowers when a stone came loose under his foot and he slid to the ground again, and thus he accidentally uprooted the entire plant.

"Estel!" The little boy turned to look behind him and saw Glorfindel hurry forward. "I saw you fall. Are you hurt? What ever possessed you to climb in such a way?"

Estel held out his prize with a grin. "I have my flowers for tonight. They are the prettiest in all of Imladris, are they not? Do you know what name they are given?"

Glorfindel had an odd look on his face. "Evening Stars, they are called. They are very beautiful indeed. Estel, you did not take the whole plant, did you?"

Estel looked at the flowers clutched in his hand. "I did not mean to. I slid." Elrond had a very strict rule when herb gathering that one should take no more than every fourth plant, or barring that, every fourth stem. But surely Elrond would understand about an accident.

Glorfindel seemed troubled. "Ai, Estel, I know you did not mean to, but those flowers in your hand were planted from seeds that Elrond's wife brought from a very long way away. They only grow in this one place in the valley, and they are - were - a favorite of your papa's."

Estel’s happiness turned to distress. "I am sorry - I did not mean to cause any harm. Do you think I could put them back?"

Glorfindel shook his head, sighing. "I do not think so, Estel, but perhaps you had better go and show your father. He will want to know."

"Then I shall go and tell him," Estel said dejectedly, and turned down the path. He did not think Elrond would be angry with him, but neither did he want his papa to be sad, and surely he would be.

He took a shortcut up the back stairs of the house, and when he reached the landing he heard voices he recognized through a nearly closed door.

"I do not know what else to do," Calen-Glad was saying in an unhappy voice.

"We must do something soon," the voice of Ilothuir replied. "It becomes more and more difficult to avoid all three of them, and Lord Elrond is beginning to be suspicious. You have not been to the evening meal in more than a week. Besides, Elrond must surely know by now that you have little skill at healing."

"Cannot you go back to Lothlórien?" This was Legolas.

"Galadriel said that I would find my answer here," Calen-Glad replied. "I must discover the truth, or I will have no rest in Lothlórien or anywhere else."

"I think we must tell Lord Elrond your story," Legolas said. "He may -"

"Shh!" Ilothuir said. "What is that?"

Estel realized he had been listening, and began walking again.

He heard a creak behind him, and then Legolas' voice. "It is only Estel passing by. I do not think he could have heard anything important."

Elrond was at the desk in his study, as usual, checking a large open volume and then writing something in another book. Estel entered slowly and Elrond looked up with a smile, but Estel immediately burst out, "Papa, I am so very sorry!"

Elrond blinked in confusion, and put down his pen. "What are you sorry about, Estel?"

With some trepidation, Estel held out the flowers in his hand.

Elrond drew his breath through his teeth with a pained hiss and stilled entirely. He looked at the flowers for a long moment, then came around the desk and knelt by Estel.

"You picked these from the bank near the waterfall," Elrond said finally, stroking a blossom with one finger.

It was not exactly a question, but Estel nodded anyway. "I am sorry, Papa, I did not mean to take the whole plant - I slipped on the rocks. And I did not know I should not pick them - they were so pretty, and I wanted flowers for the celebration."

"Celebrian planted these a long time ago." Elrond blinked hard a few times and swallowed. At last he said, "It is not your fault, I suppose. I did not tell you not to touch them. I did not think you would be able to reach so high."

Estel looked miserable, and Elrond reached out to smooth his foster son's hair. "Never mind; the damage is done. Let us go and put these in water, so that they will keep until you can wear them." But he gave a heavy sigh as he stood.

"I am very sorry, Papa," Estel said again, now close to tears himself.

Elrond shook his head. "As I said - Estel! You did not say you were hurt yourself!"

Estel looked down at his skinned knee and scraped hands. "I forgot." Although now that he looked at his injuries, they were beginning to sting again.

Elrond swept the boy up in his arms. "Come, my son. We will see about your hurts, and then we will put your Evening Stars in water until you need them."

"Estel? Wake up, darling." When Gilraen came to Estel that night, he could already hear the chimes of the Elves' laughter, and drums and flutes in the distance. They blended together to make a kind of exhilarating night music. He opened his eyes groggily.

Gilraen looked different than Estel remembered seeing her. She wore her hair up and crowned with a wreath of the cherry blossoms Estel liked to bring to her, and her cheeks were rosy in the lamplight. She wore a pink dress, and her eyes, which looked especially blue, were for once merry. Estel thought that she looked like a young girl, not very much like anyone's mother.

"Come and get dressed, Estel! The night is fine, and the dancing has already started." She helped Estel into clothes of silver and midnight blue, and braided his hair with the Evening Stars he had picked earlier. Then, nearly skipping, she led Estel out of the house and down the path toward the noise.

When they reached their destination, Estel stopped and stared in wonder. He knew this place, and yet he did not know it. He and Elladan came to the glade to practice tracking, but it was changed as if it had been enchanted in the night.

High above, the full moon glowed, bathing the trees in silver, and the stars that encrusted the cloudless black sky glittered like white jewels. Below, the softly glowing spheres that were Elven lanterns hung here and there from the trees, and in the center of the glade was a small fire. Some thoughtful person had spread blankets near the edge of the glade, and some of the Elves were sitting on them, pouring wine and passing food and joking with each other.

Tavor came by carrying a basket of refreshments, so Estel and Gilraen took some bread and cheese.

The Elves themselves looked foreign to Estel - as alien as if he had not seen them before, although he recognized all of them from Elrond's house. The clothes they wore were spun of soft, shiny materials in bright colors, like the petals of new flowers, and every gesture they made was like a dance in   itself. Estel saw Glorfindel a little distance away, dressed in gold and almost shining with something wonderful that Estel could not name: beautiful, yet somehow a stranger. How had the moonlight had changed Estel's friends to these ethereal, noble beings?

There were some Elves dancing around the fire, and they were elegant, full of grace and joy. Many of the dancers wore masks in the shapes of flower petals or leaves. Estel noticed that at the edge of the glade, nearly hidden in the shadows, some of the Elves were playing music. One had a flute, and two had drums, and one Elf wore shells around her ankle that made a rattling sound when she tapped her foot.

The dancers were moving in a complicated pattern, like a series of knots, in a circle around the fire. Estel saw both Elladan and Elrohir, as well as Legolas and a few others. The bright clothes shimmered with the light of the flames as they turned together, and then all at once leapt several paces forward. When they touched lightly on the ground they knelt, and the music stopped.

There were laughter and shouts of encouragement. The dancers moved outside the circle. More wine was poured, more goblets rose in various toasts, and other Elves moved to take their places in the dancing area.

"Estel, Lady Gilraen!" said a voice beside the two of them. "Well met!"

Estel turned his gaze upwards and met Elrohir's smile. "How do you like your first Nost-na-Lothion, Estel?"

"It is very strange," Estel said honestly. "But beautiful." Estel had never seen Elrohir in clothes like these. They were embroidered all over, and trimmed with bells in some places. In his dark hair Elrohir was wearing forget-me-nots.

"Of course it is," Elrohir said with a smile. "That is what the night is for! Did you see that Father is playing his flute tonight?"

Estel had not, but indeed it was Elrond at the side of the glade, his hair wreathed not in flowers, but in evergreen. For a second, Estel was alarmed when instead of the beloved father who ruffled his hair and took him herb-gathering, he saw only another bright being who had lived a long, long time. Then Elrond waved and Estel saw his father again. Estel waved back happily.

"Tell me, Estel," Elrohir said, "would you not like to see your mother dance, too?"

"Oh," breathed Gilraen, turning her head shyly. "I am sure I could not. I have been watching the Elves, Elrohir, and I know I could never keep up."

Elrohir laughed. "Lady, do I not know you well enough yet to know you are not an Elf? Come and dance with me now. It is only a chain dance such as you might do anywhere in Gondor. It is not difficult."

Gilraen hesitated.

"It would please me, my lady," Elrohir insisted. "For I see you eyeing the circle, and I know it would give you happiness."

Gilraen seemed to flush, but perhaps it was only the firelight. "It would give me much delight indeed, to dance again as I used to."

Elrohir grinned broadly, but looked down at Estel. "Then may I steal your mother away for a few moments? I promise to bring her back soon."

Estel nodded. "I have never seen you dance, Mama. I would like to."

And so they went out to the fire together, Gilraen in her dress like pink cherry blossom, and Elrohir in the shimmering color of a summer sky. Estel watched them with admiration as they bowed, walked, lifted their hands together, turned, stepped. Estel had never noticed before that his mother was pretty, but he knew now, as her eyes lit with merriment, that it was so.

At his elbow, someone said to Estel. "I see your papa allowed you to come to the festival after all. I hope you did not make yourself hoarse."

Estel glanced up and saw Legolas, and knew he was only teasing. Nevertheless he explained, "I asked nicely, and Papa said he would let me come for an hour."

Legolas, who was dressed in the color of summer leaves, sipped from a carved goblet. "Well done. Would that we had such diplomats in Mirkwood." He eyed the dancers walking and turning around the fire. "It is a great shame that we do not keep Nost-na-Lothion at home, for this is a beautiful celebration. Many of the songs and dances seem the same, though."

Estel pointed. "That is my mother, in the pink. She has never been to an Elf dance."

"I do not believe I have seen your mother before. She dances well."

Estel nodded happily.

When Elrohir brought Gilraen back to Estel, he greeted Legolas. "Well met, Legolas! I see you have recovered well enough to be able to jump about with the rest of us."

Legolas inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I am entirely healed, thanks to your father. Truly, Imladris has a wonderful air that has strengthened my heart, as well."

Elrohir turned and took some Lembas from an Elf with a basket and broke it. "It is traditional to share Yavanna's bread with friends at the Birth of Flowers," he said, offering some to Gilraen, Estel and Legolas.

Legolas chuckled. "I must have made more friends in Imladris than I had realized. If I am asked to take one more piece of Lembas from my courteous hosts, I shall burst."

In the shadows, the drums began to beat, this time in a fast rhythm. A broad smile broke across Elrohir's face. "Do you do the Dance of Arda in Mirkwood?" he asked.

"Aye," Legolas confirmed, and with a teasing air added, "And I'll wager we know it so well that you Imladris folk will not be able to keep up with us. In the Greenwood we touch the treetops for that one!"

Elrohir laughed. "Indeed, we have not yet reached the treetops in our dances here. But we will do our poor best." Elrohir turned to Estel and Gilraen. "And now you will see something worth waiting for," Elrohir promised. And he donned a mask.

Estel saw the mask was made of wood, but it was very thin, and carved and painted to look like the petals of a columbine. It made him look very strange. Estel reached out to touch the mask lightly, a little frightened.

Elrohir, sensing Estel's discomfort, lifted the mask for a moment to wink, and then went back to the dancing circle. In fact, every Elf who was not playing music was moving towards the circle, as well. With a grin, Legolas unhooked a mask made of new leaves from his belt, and tied it in place. Then Legolas, too, made his way towards the center of the glade.

Estel could not pick out all the Elves because they were masked, but as they took their positions, he knew both his brothers, and fair-haired Legolas, and tall Glorfindel. Estel was fairly certain of Ilothuir and Nestwen, the healers, and even thought he recognized grumpy Medlin taking his place in the circle.

Gilraen settled on a blanket and pulled Estel onto her lap. Estel, more content than he had been in a long while, leaned back against his mother's shoulder to watch the scene in front of him.

If the first dance he had seen was intricate, this one was even more complex. Each Elf moved in perfect time with all the others, leaping in a great knot around the fire. If any of the Elves had been one step out of place, the dance would have failed. Although no one truly reached to the treetops, as Legolas had said, Estel knew that no mortal could have jumped to the heights the Elves achieved.

From the edge of the circle, the Elf with the shells on her ankle began to sing in a language Estel did not know. With a start, Estel realized the singer was the courier, Nordheth of Mirkwood. Her song lifted Estel's heart, and made him want to leap for joy along with the Elves.

Soon the Elves around the fire were moving so quickly that he could not pick out any of them clearly, not even Elrohir and Elladan. At any given time, some of the Elves would be high in the air, and others somersaulting on the ground, while yet others were turning on one foot.

Unexpectedly, one of the leaping Elves faltered, but recovered. The dancer behind him narrowly missed being kicked in the head, but the dance went on.

A few minutes later, horribly, the same Elf stumbled and fell. Abruptly, everyone behind him stopped, and the three Elves in the air barely avoided crashing into those who were standing. They all waited, since there was no choice if each person was not in their proper place.

Yet the fallen dancer did not rise. The drums and the flutes stopped too, as the fallen one gripped his throat and pulled off his mask. With horror Estel realized the fallen dancer was his friend Legolas, and the Elf was breathing with great difficulty.

For a moment no one moved, then from the side of the glade Elrond dropped his flute, moving forward to Legolas. Other dancers, too, were removing their masks and hurrying forward to help. Elrond reached Legolas first and knelt by him.

"What is the matter?" the healer asked, looking for some sign of injury.

"Breathe…" was all Legolas could manage.

Gilraen tried to prevent Estel from running forward but she was not quick enough. As he reached the Elves, he saw that Legolas' lips were beginning to tinge with blue, and although he was not panting, his eyes were bulging with the effort of drawing in each breath. Legolas slipped from his kneeling posture as if he could no longer hold himself up.

Elrond gently moved Legolas' hand from his throat and placed his own there, closing his eyes. Elrond's eyes flew open again and he at once helped Legolas to lie down on the grassy floor. Then Elrond took his hand from Legolas throat and placed it lower, under Legolas' ribcage; with the other hand he covered Legolas heart. Legolas' eyes were still open and although he could not speak he was looking panicked.

"You must relax, young one," Elrond said softly, meeting Legolas' frightened gaze. “I know it is difficult, but you must calm yourself. I will keep your heart beating steadily, and I will breathe for you, but you must allow me to help … Glorfindel?" Elrond looked around for a moment, and then turned his attention back to Legolas. "Let go…I will do all the work. There…. Good. You see? You do well…."

Estel was glad Legolas did not know Elrond very well yet. If he had, he would surely have seen that under his calm exterior, the healer was exceedingly worried.

Glorfindel stepped forward and dropped to one knee by Elrond. "My Lord?"

Elrond tried to say it as quietly as possible, but there was no way to keep everyone from hearing, including Legolas. "He has been poisoned."

Elrond's world was shrinking to two tasks: working Legolas' lungs, and keeping his heart steady. Elrond could feel how poison was working its way through Legolas' nervous system, and Legolas fast was losing even the most rudimentary control of his muscles. Elrond desperately needed all his concentration for the task at hand, but he also needed Glorfindel to understand their situation.

"This poison - it is like that of a snake or spider - nothing I've seen in Imladris," continued Elrond, tilting his head slightly to meet Glorfindel's eyes and trying to communicate all he could without speaking aloud. Someone brought a poison here. This was not an accident. Glorfindel met the glance with a nod and rose.

"Elladan, let no one leave this area," Glorfindel ordered. "Search the green - start with our guests - see if you can find any trace of a poison here. Elrohir, take five or six that you trust and guard the paths from the valley. We do not know who has gone from here already, but no one must leave Imladris until we know how this was done. Erestor, take three or four servants-"

With relief that he need not worry about the rest of his people for now, Elrond turned fully back to Legolas, trying to calm the younger Elf with a confident gaze and a mild touch. It was not working, of course. Elrond found himself not only fighting against a poison and regulating a rapidly failing nervous system, but trying to reassure Legolas, as well. The natural reaction to injury for an Elf was to try and bring his own body under control, but in this case Legolas would not be able to do so.

Calen-Glad was pushing his way though the circle surrounding the two. He took off the mask he had been wearing. "Legolas! Ai, Legolas! It cannot happen again - Legolas, can you hear me?"

"Of course he can hear you," Elrond snapped, noting that Legolas' distress increased greatly and centered on Calen-Glad. "Get back!" That was all he needed - someone distracting him and worrying his patient! Elrond reflected it was typical of Calen-Glad that he could not be bothered to come to the halls of healing when needed, but would come to a patient at the most awkward time possible. Be at ease, Legolas, Elrond spoke without words, hoping Legolas would concentrate on the voice rather than other things around him. I am trying to help.

From somewhere near the edge of the glade, Elrond heard Medlin, in his usual ill temper, shouting something, but he could not hear the words over Glorfindel, who was still thankfully barking out the orders that Elrond could not give.

"Calen-Glad, step away, now!" Glorfindel was saying.

From the edge of the glade, another of the Mirkwood Elves, Nordheth, was shouting too. Did the courier now think she had some part in this affair, as well? Elrond wished everyone would simply be silent and go about his or her business.

While most scattered to obey Glorfindel, Calen-Glad refused to move. "I cannot leave him - he is my brother! Please, do not make me go!" he protested, looking desperate.

At these words Ilothuir came quickly to Calen-Glad and took his arm, tugging at him as if to make him leave. "Laegyrn, you must not!"

Even through his task, some part of Elrond was stunned. Had Ilothuir just called Calen-Glad Laegyrn? Laegyrn, the eldest son of Thranduil, for whom all of Mirkwood had been searching?

And now there was more loud confusion: the scouts from Mirkwood arguing loudly, Calen-Glad pleading to be allowed to stay with his brother, and Ilothuir suddenly bursting into tears so much noisier than were usual for an Elf that Elrond was appalled. Even Glorfindel sounded thunderous as he spoke to Calen-Glad. Elrond could not spare any of his energy to listen, for Legolas clearly was attending, and whatever he was hearing was greatly upsetting him.

"Legolas - Please, calm yourself," Elrond tried to soothe. This noisy drama was not doing the ailing Elf any good at all. Elrond could feel how he was struggling to move, to speak. "Come, look at my eyes…"

Elrond wondered if he should try to lift Legolas himself, and take him into the house, but he hated to have one more thing to think about. He looked up and around the green to find help.

Through her tears, Ilothuir was trying to explain, "My lord, it was not Laegyrn's idea. It was the Lady Galadriel of Lorien who told him to come here!" She gave a wet sniffle and a sob. "We could not yet tell you because in Mirkwood there was a terrible -"

"Not now!" hissed Elrond. "Glorfindel, please." In that moment while Elrond's attention was elsewhere, Legolas panicked. The result was that Legolas nearly stopped breathing. "Legolas? Let me …you must." Calm yourself, young one, Elrond tried tell him. Trust me.

Blessedly, Glorfindel stopped his tirade abruptly, bent, and lifted Legolas as gently as he could, while Elrond's hands stayed in place. "I must help get Legolas into the house," Glorfindel said. "Erestor, be certain this area stays secure. I will be back as quickly as I can."

Calen-Glad moved to go behind them. "Absolutely not!" Glorfindel said decisively. "Not until we know what has happened here."

Calen-Glad tried to follow in spite of Glorfindel’s order, but was restrained by someone. Elrond didn't care by whom and didn't look to see.

Glorfindel bore young Legolas down the path into the house and to the Halls of Healing - back, in fact, to the same place where Legolas and Elrond had first met. Glorfindel laid the Elf gently onto a bed.

Now that there was little to distract him, Elrond quietly worked to put the young Elf into a healing sleep. Legolas was fighting it, and his fear rose to a crest. Elrond could see tears gathering in Legolas' eyes.

Calm, calm. No need to fear. "I will not let you pass through the shadow," Elrond said firmly. "Be at peace. Sleep for a while, so that I can better work to heal you." Little by little, Legolas gave in, and at last grew drowsy and fell into a troubled slumber.

Glorfindel was leaning quietly against a column a few feet away, knowing better than to disturb a healer. Elrond was about to request Ilothuir be sent, and then realized that at the least, she had been deceiving him for months. And, in any case, she was probably still overwrought and crying out on the green.

"I cannot send for Ilothuir," Elrond mused aloud, removing one hand from Legolas' still form and looking up at his friend.

Glorfindel nodded in agreement. "Better not to send for any Elves but lately known to us," Glorfindel advised. "We do not yet know what has happened tonight."

"Nestwen, then" Elrond said, thinking of the only reliable healer he had left.

Glorfindel shook his head. "Better, perhaps, but she did not come to us so very long before the others. Until we have sorted out this incident, better I send you one of your household staff."

Elrond sighed deeply. "Until we understand - until we know -" he glanced again at Legolas, whose chest his hand still laid upon. "I would prefer too many precautions rather than too few. Yet I need not only someone who can fetch and carry, but a true healer." He paused, lost in thought, combing through the possibilities. "Where are Gilraen and Estel?"

"Estel was frightened of course. His mother showed some sense and took the boy back to his room." Glorfindel did not say so, but implied by his tone that Gilraen showing sense was a rare occurrence. "She is still with him, I would imagine." Glorfindel frowned. "Surely you are not going to invite a small child in here now. Perhaps Gilraen could help you, but Estel…"

"I do not know what Gilraen is capable of. I do know, however, that Estel has the gift of his forefathers. I need him only for a moment to make one infusion. It will strengthen Legolas' fëa, and then I need not stay so close to Legolas and can begin to deal with the toxin itself. Please go quickly, Glorfindel, and do not ask any more questions."

Glorfindel did as he was told and soon returned with Estel and Gilraen. Gilraen looked irritated, although Elrond did not know if it was because of the night interrupted or because she had had to bring Estel to him.

Elrond looked to Glorfindel. "Go back to the green," Elrond ordered quietly. "I feel more at ease knowing you are in charge there."

Glorfindel bowed. "When all seems in order, I will return, in case you might need me here."

As Glorfindel departed, Elrond looked to Estel. The boy was wearing his nightclothes, and was quiet, but his face was tearstained and he looked frightened. Gilraen, though, made no move to hold or comfort him. Couldn't she see he was in distress?

Elrond called to him softly. "Come, Estel, don't be afraid. Legolas will be well, but I need your help. I am sorry, but it is only for a moment."

Estel nodded. "I am glad to help you, Papa. I did not mean to be…only he looked so pale and still outside, and no one would tell me anything."

Elrond mentally berated Gilraen for not giving some small explanation to the boy, and continued, "That is understandable, but as I said, Legolas will be well. Have your mother help you heat some water, and then soak some athelas as you have done before."

Estel did this. When he crushed the leaves into the water a smell like forest and mountains blew into the room: even Gilraen's eyes sparkled for a moment. Estel brought the water to Elrond, who smiled reassuringly at the boy.

"Thank you," Elrond said sincerely. "You were very brave. I dared not leave him, even for a moment, and your help was much appreciated."

As he drew nearer, Estel's face filled with awe. "You are keeping him here," Estel said, gazing at Legolas’ pale form.

Elrond understood that Estel did not know how to voice what he was seeing. "That is his fëa that you sense. It is what makes an Elf himself; it is the part of him that is alive, even when his body dies. Yes, I anchor it here, but the athelas will strengthen his spirit, and then I will not have to." He reached for the bowl that Estel held.

"I want to help," Estel said, no longer sounding frightened. "I know I can."

Elrond hesitated, and then nodded. "When I hold the water close so that he may breathe of it, call him. He may well respond to you better than me."

Estel did as he was told. "Legolas," he said, firmly, sounding much older than his years. "You must come back. All your friends are waiting for you."

The change in Legolas was apparent within moments. A little color came back to the Elf's cheeks, and Elrond was able to remove his touch altogether, though the healing was far from being finished.

"Thank you, Estel," Elrond said, sighing in relief. "That was well done. But it is late for you: go back to your rooms now, please, and I will see you in the morning - or the afternoon, if I must be awake through this night much longer. Good night."

Estel threw his arms around his papa. "Good night," he said. "I will not worry any more, for I know you will make Legolas well."

Elrond hoped Estel's faith did not prove to be misplaced.

Gilraen, who had said nothing while she was in the room, did not respond when Elrond said, "Good night, Lady." Instead she threw him an accusing look as she led her son from the room. Elrond was not sure what had upset her. Was she disturbed because he had made use of Estel's abilities and reminded her of his heritage? Or was something else amiss?

When Glorfindel returned, exhausted, some hours later, he found that Elrond had moved from Legolas' bedside, though it was obvious the Lord of Imladris had not rested. He sat at the table with a large book open before him and was frowning deeply. Glorfindel sat by his friend "Lord Elrond?" Glorfindel asked with concern. "Is there aught I may help with?"

Elrond shook his head to the negative. "It was purposeful," he bit out angrily, gesturing at the open pages. "There is no poison that would act like this but that of Shelob or one of her children. The shadow spiders have two poisons: one that paralyzes, and one that kills, and Legolas has somehow ingested the latter. The spider must have been an old one to be so potent, but regardless, that is the source of the poison."

Elrond glanced at Glorfindel. "The spiders are shadow creatures. There is nothing like them in Imladris." Elrond's whole body shook with anger. "Someone brought that evil poison here. It was purposeful," he repeated. "Moreover it would not have been Gilraen or Estel, and there are no Men or Dwarves passing through here now, so it can only have been one of the Firstborn who did it. Ai, Glorfindel! I never wanted to see such a thing come to pass again!"

Glorfindel placed a hand on Elrond's shoulder. "I too, am disturbed by the thought of a kinslaying. It is an ugly, ugly thing that has happened here." He softened his voice. "But you could not have kept it from happening, and you have probably saved Legolas' life."

"It should not have happened in my valley," Elrond said, pressing his palms to his eyes as if he were in pain. "This was to be my sanctuary. Nothing evil can come here. Nothing evil should be able to make its home here!"

Elrond unexpectedly heaved the book from the table and threw it violently. It arced wide and hit a shelf with a heavy thump.

Glorfindel squeezed Elrond's shoulder lightly, surreptitiously glancing behind at Legolas, who still slept, undisturbed by the noise. "Many have been led to evil deeds with good intentions," Glorfindel said gently. "My Lord -" He paused. "My friend: you know that all the Valar together could not keep evil from coming into Arda. Did you think you could hold it from Imladris with only the help of a ring? You are wiser than that."

Elrond pressed his face harder into his hands. "Would I that could sail west and join Celebrian and my kin. I am so weary of this age, Glorfindel!"

"Soon," Glorfindel soothed. "All your duties will be completed soon, and you will be with your wife again." After few moments he changed his tone. "Elrond?"

Elrond tilted his head and wearily opened one eye. "Is there yet something else, Glorfindel?"

"A small thing. Nearly all the household has been drafted in one way or another to deal with the crisis. What would you have me do about the song?"

"The song?" Elrond repeated, confused.

"It is Nost-na-Lothion," Glorfindel prompted gently. "It is traditional to usher in the morning sun with a song."

"Aye. Of course. And celebrate for the rest of the day, as well." Elrond sat back in his chair and considered, glad to have at least a problem with a tangible solution. "You should appoint someone, I think, to sing in place of all of us," he said finally. "No one will feel much like celebrating after last night, I imagine. In fact, I ask you to sing the morning song yourself, if you would. There is little enough chance anyone else will feel like singing, either."

Glorfindel smiled. "I will be honored to do so."

Elrond sighed. "I do not yet know what you have done to keep Imladris safe, but I am glad to be certain that whatever you have done has been done well. Tomorrow, I ask you to gather in one room all the Elves lately come to Imladris. There can be no more secrecy; everything must be told."

Gilraen did not sleep well after she left the Halls of Healing, even after Estel finally closed his eyes. She tossed restlessly, and finally, as the first rosy light of dawn crept through the windows she gave up and left her bed to get dressed. She paused as she fastened the outer robe of her gown.

A strong baritone was singing in Elvish from somewhere outside. It confused Gilraen for a moment, for it was very early in the morning for anyone to be singing so loudly. Then she remembered that in past years when the Elves had their festival in May, there was always singing early in the morning. She thought it was usually many Elves at once, but she didn’t know the seasonal customs well enough to say for certain. She strained her ears to hear the words.

“…Curinir a Balan,

Edhel ah Adan:

Linno Egleriol!” 

The song was something about an Elf and a Man singing, she thought, but it was difficult to understand further. She knew enough Sindarin to ask for directions and make polite comments about the weather, but she had never needed to practice the language extensively, since everyone accommodated her by using the Common Tongue.

The voice, so strong in the still morning air, was breathtakingly lovely in it’s richness, but that was not the reason she followed the sound through the winding corridors. Perhaps, she reasoned, the singer might give explanation of the previous night’s trauma.

“Gilgalad a menel,

Glawar a môr,” 

Yes, now Gilraen knew it was the same song the Elves sang every year. She could not have recited the words, but the tune was familiar enough. The voice grew louder as she let it guide her up the stairs.

“Ithil ah anor…” 

Gilraen paused as she reached the landing. She could see the singer was on the balcony. He was standing on the in the rose-gold light of the morning sun, still in his shining clothes from the night before – and looking none the worse for wear, of course – typical, for the singer was Glorfindel. Gilraen nearly changed her mind and went back to her rooms.

Of all the Elves in Elrond’s household, Glorfindel seemed to Gilraen the most intimidating for reasons she did not entirely understand herself, and though she spoke to him on occasion he was not someone she would normally have sought out when she needed help. He was tall enough to loom over her, and there was something about him that spoke of great strength. Restrained strength, yet it still made her a little nervous, for Gilraen knew warriors and her instincts told her that this one could be very dangerous. Not that Glorfindel was ever in a foul mood: Gilraen had never even seen him out of sorts, and she knew her son was very fond of him. Whatever it was that her son saw when looking upon the golden warrior, however, Gilraen could not find it.

Glorfindel finished his song and turned, clearly unsurprised to see Gilraen standing there. She had learned long ago there was no sneaking up on an Elf. “My Lady,” he acknowledged, automatically using Westron for her. “Good morning to you.” 

“I-“ Gilraen began, licking her lips nervously. “I did not mean to trouble you, my lord. I was just leaving to go and find Lord Elrond.” She turned to retreat back into the house. 

“Elrond is still abed. It was a long night last eve.” Glorfindel frowned. “The healing of Legolas was some strain, as was the flooding of the ford to block anyone from taking leave of Rivendell. Is there aught I might help you with, Lady?”

Gilraen thought for a moment. Could Glorfindel help her? “I wished to speak to someone about last night. I am a little confused.” 

Glorfindel cocked his head to the side, reminding Gilraen of a large, curious falcon. “There are many unanswered questions, but I will answer what I can.” 

“It is only that – everyone was speaking so fast, and Estel was so frightened at first that I could get nothing from him. And he does not speak Westron well, you see, and there was so much confusion. My son could tell me nothing of what was happening but the word ‘saew,’ which is what everyone else was saying, too. I tried to ask Elrohir and Elladan, but they left the green so quickly, and I hated to disturb Elrond when poor – Legolas? Is that his name? When Legolas seemed so awfully sick.”

Gilraen could not read Glorfindel’s face well, but she thought he seemed surprised by what she was saying. She explained further, “Estel seemed to think someone had tried to make Legolas sick on purpose, but that did not seem right to me.” Gilraen frowned. “And then, after all the trouble I had calming my child, Elrond called for him again. Not a word of explanation or apology, only ‘come now’ and ‘go’. All I needed was a word or two, so that I could give my son some small reassurance.” Feeling she was rambling, she ended inadequately, “I’m afraid I was perhaps a little cold to Elrond last night.”

Gilraen did not tell Glorfindel how panicked she had felt trying to comfort a crying child and put him to bed without any help, or how frustrated she had been that she could not find explanation or understand her own son fully, but she could see Glorfindel was thinking and perhaps he guessed all this.

Glorfindel was quiet for several seconds before he answered, “’Saew’ is the Sindarin word for ‘poison.’ And it was important for Legolas to be treated immediately, for the poison could have been fatal. Elrond needed whatever help he could get from whomever was at hand, and we knew he had the inheritance of the kings of Gondor.”

“But you have healers to do that for you!” Gilraen protested. “You did not need a little boy.” 

Again, Glorfindel was silent before answering. “Lady, I admit that when I came to fetch you I was unaware of your ignorance. I had not thought of how little you would know, and I ask you to forgive me.” Quickly, Glorfindel outlined the events of the previous evening, and included Elrond’s suspicions.

Gilraen felt the color drain from her face. “Are we not safe, even here?” she whispered. She ran one finger along the carving on the balcony rail, turning events over in her mind for a long time. Suddenly, she looked up, startled. “I think I have seen something that may be of use to you.”

**** 

Estel, unlike his mother, awoke very late, and when he went to the kitchens to have some breakfast – or lunch – he found the hallways were empty. Puzzled, he decided to find his father to ask if Legolas was any better. He was happy to have been able to help with the healing, but he was still very worried about his friend. Estel noticed that the house was unusually silent. 

At the Hall of Healing Estel stopped in the doorway and looked in. There was no sign of Elrond anywhere, but he could see Legolas sleeping. He was still very pale, but breathing softly. Oddly, he was being attended by one of the housekeepers, rather than a healer. Estel knew that there were good reasons for his foster father’s rule that children not go into the Hall uninvited, but he wished he could go to his friend, perhaps touch his hand and speak to him. Had Legolas awoken at all since last night? Estel could not have said why, but he did not think so.

The Elf who was watching Legolas smiled at Estel, but put his finger to his lips and shook his head. No answers would be forthcoming here, it seemed. With a sigh, Estel left again to search the house for his foster father.

The library proved to be uninhabited, and even Elladan and Elrohir were not in their rooms. In desperation, Estel tried his mother’s door, but there was no answer. Estel walked down the quiet hallways, growing increasingly worried. Where had everyone gone?

Finally, on the lower floors he heard voices. In relief he hastened to the closed door of the Receiving chamber, surprised to see that it was guarded by two Elves. Tavor stopped Estel as he reached for the handle of the door. “Not this time, Estel. Lord Elrond is having a very important meeting with our guests. They cannot be disturbed.” 

Estel was a little irritated. “Are they talking about Legolas? He is my friend, too. I want to know what is happening. Papa says I am old enough to be with him when he has audiences.” 

The other guard smiled at this and said, “I’m sure that is so, but this meeting is not for little boys. Why do you not run along and play? It is a fine day outside.” 

Estel found himself uncharacteristically angered by the guard’s dismissive words. He genuinely felt like stomping his feet, but knew that would gain him little. Instead Estel forced himself to smile.

“You are right. It is a nice day,” he said. Knowing he was about to be naughty but too angry to feel guilty, he turned and walked the way he had come. Instead of going outside, however, he went upstairs and out onto a balcony.

The Receiving chamber did not have wide, arched windows as many of the other rooms did. However, as Elrond was fond of sunlight, the receiving chamber had been built with smaller, glazed windows near the high ceiling. The windows let in the light and air, but gave some measure of privacy. Usually.

Estel went to the edge of the balcony and slipped over the rail onto the other side. He did note with some trepidation that he was farther from the ground than he would have liked, but he soon made himself more secure by winding his legs through the wooden bars on either side of him, so that he hung by bent knees wrapped around carved posts. By hanging on to the posts with his hands, he could lean back till he was nearly upside-down. Probably he would have been able to hear better if he had let go all together and hung by his knees only, but he was hesitant to do so.

With jubilation and a twinge of conscience, Estel found the little windows had been cracked to let in the warm spring air, and he could hear nearly everything. It didn’t hurt that the adults were being quite loud. 

“I want to do my best for my king, and that means taking you back home by force,” a voice that could only belong to Medlin was saying. “Duty to the King demands that you return to Greenwood at once. Your guilt is now certain.”

“How can you say such a thing?” This was Ilothuir. “What proof do you have Laegyrn is guilty?” 

“What more proof do I need than that Legolas has been poisoned? If one was poisoned, why not two?” Medlin said

Estel started and nearly lost his grip. He knew Legolas had been poisoned, but had assumed it was similar to the time when Estel had been small and eaten poisoned white berries from a tree: something bad, but unintentional. He could not conceive of anyone, especially an Elf, poisoning someone deliberately.

“I have not yet come to the crux of the matter, and yet you all still sit arguing. Who was poisoned in Mirkwood?” came the voice of Elrond 

There was a silence. Elrond spoke again. “There was enough arguing and needless prattle from all of you! Can you not now answer a reasonable question? I have reached the limits of my patience in all of this. Perhaps the best thing to be done is to truss you like fowl and send you all back to Thranduil.” 

There was a storm of protests, “My Lord, that would not be wise-“ Lindir began. 

“I did not even come from Mirkwood,” Ilothuir was angry. 

“And I have not finished my apprenticeship here!” came Nestwen’s appalled voice. Estel imagined her giving Elrond a righteous-righteous, reproving glance.

“In any case,” Nordheth said, “you may as well wait at least until Legolas recovers, so that we might have good news for the king.” 

“Do not you pretend to be concerned for the king now!” Medlin said heatedly. “It is your fault that Thranduil –“ He went suddenly silent. 

“Yes?” prompted Elrond. There was no response. He began again, slowly and carefully. “Many of you seem not to want to go to your homes immediately, and indeed one among you made a formal request for sanctuary this morning. Yet a guest of my house nearly died last night and I do not know that the rest of my household is not in grave danger. Each of you must tell me what you know, or by the Valar, none of you will be in this house at the end of this day. Laegyrn, you have been silent through all this. Perhaps you would care to start.” Estel knew that tone. It was not a request. 

The voice that came sounded much like Calen-Glad. “I was out hunting and when I came back my father had been struck by a poisoned arrow just outside the great doors to our home. The guards searched but found no one – and of course, at first they were looking for Orcs or perhaps humans. But later, it was thought I was responsible for the treachery.”

Estel drew in his breath, horrified.

Below, there was a pause. “That is very succinct!” Came Elrond’s voice again. “I need a little more information than that, if you please.”

“Many in the woodland realm had been injured by spiders, and I had come to have a reputation for hunting the largest and most dangerous of them: Shelob’s first children. Thus when it was my own arrow poisoned with spider venom that had nearly killed my father, the evidence seemed to point to me. But I would have no reason to do any such thing!” It was Calen-Glad. So Calen-Glad and Laegyrn were one and the same! This surprised Estel greatly, but if Elrond seemed to think so, then it must be so. He had little time to think on this as the conversation continued.

“There were tracks in the mud that led to your own chambers, and boots in your room were still dark with the same mud,” Medlin pointed out. “Nor could you explain how one of your own arrows had gone missing. And who else would have access to such strong venom? A near-empty vial of that venom was also in your chambers, I have heard. What other conclusion can we make?” 

“The evidence is not enough for condemnation,” Nordheth said. “Those things could easily have been put in place by an enemy, and so say I. When Thranduil recovered he would have released Laegyrn from his cell, but his councilors insisted that to do so would be folly until we had more evidence. Thranduil asked we take every care to find the true perpetrator.” 

“Thranduil locked his son away?” Elrond sounded appalled. 

“All the rooms in Thranduil’s keep are underground,” Lindir explained. “It would not be the same as putting your child in a dungeon. It was only that the lower levels were more secure. Anyway, it was not Thranduil who put his son in the lower rooms, it was the guards. The king was not in any condition to-”

“You are straying from the issue,” Medlin said. “King Thranduil was blinded by love for his son, that much is clear. Yet you yourself searched the halls for evidence. Did you find any that contradicted our first impression?” 

“No, but –“ 

“The king himself did not give his son freedom, but it is plain to me that someone felt that Thranduil must be overruled. Who left the portcullis open; tell me that? And why were the rooms where prisoners are kept left nearly unguarded?” 

“What do you mean?” Elrond said.

Medlin supplied the answer. “Twenty guards are usually in and around the palace at any time. Why were they suddenly removed?” 

“Thranduil ordered it thus!” Lindir protested. “Almost from the moment he was able to communicate again, he became impatient and ordered the grounds to be searched until an answer was found. The guards were looking for signs of a perpetrator, as were those citizens who were best at tracking and scouting. I myself was searching every room for some sign… “ 

“And yet you found none!” Medlin interrupted. 

“I begin to see.” Elrond’s voice came again. “So then, for whatever reason, there were fewer guards near the cells, and the portcullis had been left open. Then, Laegyrn, how did you escape?” 

There was a long silence. Then Laegyrn said softly. “Legolas came to me in the night, in silence, and he had the key to my door. He did not say whence it had come.”

“I knew it!” Medlin said loudly. “They were working together all along! Legolas had argued with his father about confining Laegyrn and had insisted that his brother be set free.” 

“The king had no choice,” protested Lindir heatedly. “He could hardly-“ 

“Enough!” Elrond said sharply. “What then, Laegyrn?” 

“I did not know where I should go, but I wanted to clear myself,” Laegyrn replied. “I thought then of Galadriel. The Lady, as you know, has a measure of foresight, and I thought perhaps she would be able to see the true assailant. Legolas and I devised a plan: he would lead the tracking party one way, and I would go the other.” 

“And why did you simply not tell your father that you wished to be brought to Galadriel so that the truth might be found?” Elrond asked. 

“The Lady has a measure of foresight, but she does not see all things. It might be she would not know the answer, and then what would I do if I were still held prisoner by my father’s men? And I was right to think so, for even after weeks of gazing into her mirror she could not say that she saw the truth of what had happened. She only said she had foreseen I would find my answers here in Imladris. She was already sending Ilothuir to Imladris to learn healing. ‘As well to send two as one,’ the Lady Galadriel said, and I came.” 

“And were you not afraid your father’s scouts would come and ask if you were here?” Estel heard Elrond ask.  Estel thought his foster father was being remarkably calm. 

“I did not know where Legolas had gone. But I thought that if anyone came, they would ask after a fair-haired prince, not a dark-haired Elf and his lady friend.” 

”We dyed his hair before coming.” Ilothuir explained. 

“And after, too, at least once,” added Laegyrn. “The roots were beginning to show. I must apologize for that, Lord Elrond. I’m afraid we took about half a case of walnuts from the cellar for the dye…” 

Glorfindel’s deep laugh echoed softly in the room. Estel was not sure why – Erestor had seemed genuinely upset when he’d discovered those walnuts missing.

“I see,” Elrond said. “Then, when Laegyrn was discovered missing, Thranduil sent a tracking party.”

Nordheth smothered a cough. “More or less, Lord Elrond. In fact he asked Legolas to choose the tracking party, and it was Legolas who told them to scout in the deeper woods first, and then begin to work west if they found nothing there. I think they did not notice he had gone missing by the time they were turned in the right direction.” 

Elrond sighed. “Well, that is as much of the tale as I think I need to hear. Unless someone has more to add?”

No one spoke. “Then you will all go back to your rooms and give me time to think on this matter. Do not attempt to leave – you will not find it easy to do so.” 

There were rustles and Estel thought the Elves were all leaving the room. He began to haul himself back up with a grimace: his legs were beginning to fall asleep. When he heard another voice though, he stopped.

“My Lord, a word,” said Lindir. “I must speak with you.”

“Speak then,” Elrond said. “What have you to say to me?” 

“My Lord, I must tell you that – “ A pause. “That it was I who left the key to Laegyrn’s cell for Legolas to find.”

There was a long silence before Elrond spoke. “Why would you do such a thing? And where would you come by a key to begin with?” 

“As to why, it is because I know King Thranduil himself deeply believed in his son’s innocence. And as to how I would come by the key… my Lord Elrond, it was the king himself who gave me the key, and instructed me to give it to Legolas.” 

Estel was entranced by this turn of events. Unfortunately, he was unable to hear anything more, because at that moment, a cry sounded from below. 

“Estel!” came Elladan’s sharp voice. “What in Arda are you doing?”

With a sinking heart, Estel turned his head to look down.

Estel craned his neck to see his foster brother, who emerged from below the orchard trees to come to a halt on the stone terrace below. Elladan’s small fox frolicked on the ground, and the crow sitting on Elladan’s shoulder stared at Estel with an inquiring expression, but Elladan himself looked both angry and frightened.

Estel’s mind searched rapidly for some good explanation, but nothing came to mind. “What am I doing up here?” he repeated.

“Never mind that!” Elladan said hastily. “Come down at once! You know you are not supposed to be over the balcony like that! It is very dangerous!”

“Yes, Elladan,” replied Estel humbly. “I will be right down.” This was bad: Elladan, who had a very relaxed nature, almost never spoke sharply to anyone.

Estel began to obey quickly, removing his feet from the rails. Unfortunately, he had cut off the circulation in his feet by hanging so tightly by his knees; thus he wasn’t exactly sure whether each foot was in the right place. Without warning, Estel's legs slipped from the balcony, leaving him momentarily dangling before the weight of his own body pulled his hands from the rails and sent him hurling terrifyingly downwards.

Estel cried out as he felt himself drop, certain he would fall against the stones. Luckily, Elladan was not more than a few steps away and sprinted to catch Estel safely in his arms. Elladan’s breath was forced out with a “whoosh” and he stumbled, nearly falling himself with Estel’s weight.

"That is not what I meant by 'come down,'" Elladan said furiously, and although he knelt to put Estel calmly on the stones, Estel could tell he'd been tempted to set him down somewhat less gently. He stayed on his knees to keep himself at eye-level with Estel, but Estel had no wish to look his brother in the face. "You know better than to do so unsafe a thing! What were you doing up there to begin with?"

Estel stumbled at the prickling in his feet and tried to tap them on the ground to regain feeling. “I am sorry,” Estel apologized softly, looking at the ground. “I did not mean to – to fall.”

Elladan ignored the apology. “Estel,” he said warningly, “I asked what you were doing.”

"I was hanging upside-down off the balcony,” Estel explained without raising his eyes to his brother’s. He hoped to sound as if this were everyday behavior but had a feeling this tactic would not work. Papa had never allowed him to so much as lift his feet off the balcony while looking over the railing, and Elladan knew that.

"I did notice you were upside-down; what I want to know is why you were hanging off the balcony? You were twenty feet off the ground and you nearly fell to the stones!" Elladan sounded furious, not at all like himself, and his tone made Estel’s stomach twist.

"Why?" repeated Estel, stalling for time. He hated Elladan to be angry with him, but he couldn’t stand to disappoint his brother further by telling him the truth. Worse, Estel could feel his eyes start to sting and knew that any minute he was going to cry right in front of Elladan.

Elladan blew out his breath very, very slowly. Then he did it again. “You must never do such a thing again, do you understand? You frightened the life out of me!” Elladan scowled as he studied the balcony. His eyes moved to the little windows, and then to Estel. Estel knew the very moment that things began to click in place for his foster brother as soon as Elladan’s eyes narrowed.

“Estel,” Elladan said slowly. “I cannot but see that the balcony is very close to the open windows of the Receiving Chamber where, I have been told, Father was to be having a meeting this afternoon. Did you notice that, also?”

Estel looked down at his feet, biting his lip, and felt tears begin to slip down his cheeks. He ventured a glance upward, and Elladan’s face had finally softened to look less angry than disappointed.

“Oh, Estel,” Elladan said in a tired voice.

Estel was about to explain that he hadn’t meant any harm: he had only wanted to know about Legolas – and maybe he was a little angry about being left out of the meeting – but before he could begin, he heard a voice through the orchard.

“Elladan, what news?”

Estel sighed in relief as he saw Elrohir coming through the trees; perhaps this meant a reprieve. As Elladan turned his head, Estel wiped his cheeks quickly with the back of his hand.

Elrohir’s fine clothes were rumpled and stained, as if he had perhaps been crawling on the ground in them and then gone horseback riding afterwards. He frowned as he neared the two. “Elladan, you look exhausted! Did not you sleep at all?”

Estel looked at his brother guiltily. Now that Elrohir mentioned it, the faces of both twins seemed very tired.

“Glorfindel said to search the green and the house and the guests,” Elladan replied, rising to his feet. “That takes time, especially if thoroughness is required.”

Elrohir nodded. “Did you find anything, then?”

Elladan, though fatigued, smiled. “After combing the area for some time, I finally had the bright idea of using Laesrusc.” He glanced down at the baby fox proudly. “And the little fellow discovered something.” He took a pouch from his belt and tossed it to his twin.

Elrohir opened it carefully, looked at its contents, then sniffed at it, and his eyes widened with surprise. “For the most part, it smells of the sweetness of Yavanna’s bread. But there is also a bitter odor.”

“Perhaps it would not be noticed,” Elladan said, “especially if someone had had a great deal of wine…”

“Or perhaps it would be noticed after all, and a certain Elf did not want to upset his hosts by critiquing the food,” Elrohir speculated. He handed the packet back to Elladan.

“Whichever way you look at it, the desecration of sacred things can never be a good sign. And then it leaves more questions. Perhaps when Father gives us news…” The mention of the meeting seemed to remind Elladan of Estel. “And what am I to do with you now?”

It was the sort of question adults sometimes asked children who had been up to mischief, and Estel always felt it quite unfair. The “right” answer was certainly not “let us pretend you did not even see me,” though that was what he wanted to say.

Luckily, Elladan did not seem to expect an answer. He turned back to his twin to explain, “Estel was hanging upside-down over the balcony rail so that he could hear all that was happening within the receiving chamber. He nearly fell and broke his neck!”

“Oh, Estel!” said Elrohir reprovingly. “That was dangerous, and neither wise nor respectful of Father’s privacy.”

Estel gave a little sniff. Not Elrohir, too! Another tear slipped down his cheek and he turned away so that his brothers would not see.

“Oh, well, it could have been worse,” Elrohir said with a sidelong glance at Elladen. “You might have been playing dragons and dangling your brother by his heels over the top of the waterfall. Think of the trouble you would be in, then!”

Estel furrowed his brow in confusion. “But I do not have a brother, Elrohir. And I am not allowed across the bridge without a grown-up.”

Elladan was scowling at Elrohir. “Do not be flippant. Think of what might have happened!”

“My apologies,” Elrohir replied with a nod. “Perhaps I am too tired to think sensibly any longer. I only meant that sometimes children can be thoughtless without meaning any real harm.”

“Humph,” said Elladan grouchily. He turned to Estel. “I think you should go straight to the Hall of Fire and meditate on what you might have done differently,” he said firmly. “You should not be eavesdropping and – and being upside-down off high things.” More softly he added, “I only want you to be safe, Estel. You did greatly frighten me, you know. ”

Estel nodded and, taking his cue, turned to go back into the house.

As he left he thought he heard Elladan mutter to Elrohir, “At least I did not drop you.” But he wasn’t certain.

***********

Gilraen and Glorfindel entered the large kitchen together. The usually neat room had not been fully cleaned from the night before. Glorfindel reflected that the cook would be beside herself if she could see the mess – but likely she was still abed, having been drafted to help search the house in the early hours of the morning.

“So how did this vial appear?” Glorfindel asked. “Large? Small? What color was it? Do you see it now?”

"No, but the bottle was here on the table," Gilraen said. "It was about like so,” she held her fingers a few inches apart. “Mostly, it was foul smelling, and I said so."

"Did someone throw it away?" Glorfindel inquired.

"Perhaps. I do not recall any longer. There was a bit of commotion when I spoke, and then again when I tried to help mix the bread."

"You attempted to help with the baking of the Lembas?" Glorfindel tried to moderate his tone, but he could not help sounding appalled. "That is not allowed! You should not have been in the kitchen at all during the ceremony. Did no one tell you so? How could you have lived in this household for five years and not understand?" He knelt to poke through a basket of potato peelings and other waste to be taken out to the compost heap.

"What ceremony?” Gilraen countered defensively, checking through a number of empty bottles for some sign of the vial she had seen. “The women were only making bread - and I was trying to be more social. Elrohir said that I should be out of my room more often."

"Yes, but - " Glorfindel paused in the process of opening a cupboard to gaze at Gilraen in horrified fascination. "did you not understand that the baking of the Waybread is sacred to us?"

"Is it?" Gilraen bent to look under the table. "That makes the reason for the women’s agitation more clear. No, I did not know."

"Only Elven women are allowed to touch the ingredients for the Lembas from the moment they come together to bake," Glorfindel explained, still waiting in vain for Gilraen to understand the magnitude of her transgression. “There is a special order of things done and certain blessings are said, and even I do not know all that happens.”

"Really?" Gilraen asked, bending down to look behind the dustbin. "So only Elven women make Lembas? How interesting."

Glorfindel shook his head in disbelief. "Elrohir is right," he replied. "You should be out more, and begin to learn the customs of some of the other folk who live here. And you should learn more Sindarin, as well. Much as I think other Elvish languages sound better on the ear, all the Elves you will meet here will probably speak Sindarin, and it will be helpful to you to understand what is going on around you."

"Elrohir might practice with me, if I asked."

"He might. You might also practice with your son, and he could practice his Westron with you. It wouldn't do for him to grow up and go back among his people with an Elvish accent."

Gilraen sighed. "It's no use. I don't see the bottle anywhere. But it was here - I saw it. It was green glass, and it was resting for just here, near the wine."

---

In the Hall of Fire, the starry pattern on the floor glowed with the afternoon sun. Estel, who knew very well why it was wrong to eavesdrop, and who had certainly had a practical lesson in why hanging upside-down from the balcony was dangerous, was sitting silently on a cushion in one corner.

He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the mosaic on the ceiling. Theoretically, when he was sent in for a "Thinking Time," he was supposed to be able to leave the Hall as soon as he was able to explain to his teachers or to Papa Elrond why his actions were wrong. In practice, if he did not sit silently for long enough, the grown-up who sent him to think about his transgression would send him right back to "think" some more.

He was still eying the complex pattern when Ilothuir wandered in. She was tall and slender, and Estel thought her very graceful as she folded her legs under her and settled down, palms on knees, facing the unlit fireplace. A guard, one of the Elves that had been at the receiving chamber earlier, followed her at a respectful distance and took his place in the entryway, silent and watchful as she sat.

Estel had seen other Elves meditate in the way Ilothuir seemed to be trying to do; Papa had once told him that it was one of the ways Elves tried to come into harmony with Arda's song. Estel had attempted it himself for months after, but discovered that trying to listen for something he couldn't hear only made him sleepy, and concluded that he did not feel any more a part of Arda's song asleep than awake.

Ilothuir was not still like most Elves listening for the Great Song. She sighed. She squirmed. She squared her shoulders and put up her chin, then sighed again after only a few moments.

"If you don't like listening to Arda's song, maybe you could just take a nap,” Estel suggested, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be silent, too.

Ilothuir jumped. "Why, young Estel! I had no idea you were here. You were very quiet!"

"I am supposed to be thinking."

"Ah? And what are you to think of?"

Estel thought it was not very nice of Ilothuir to ask about his misdeeds, but she was an adult. So he answered, "About why I should not hang off the balcony by my knees and listen to important meetings."

Ilothuir seemed dismayed, though Estel saw the lips of the guard at the door quirk upward. "Ai! Estel, you were not listening to the meeting today? That was very rude!"

Estel furrowed his brow and rested his chin on his folded arms. "I only wanted to know what happened to Legolas. No one would tell me."

Ilothuir's gaze was sympathetic then. "Of course you did. But you must not listen to things that do not concern you."

"It did concern me!" Estel protested indignantly.

"Aye, but there are many things that were spoken of that mayhap you are young to hear. The world is full of evils - you need not be acquainted with them so soon."

Estel frowned and objected. "Orcs killed my father - my first father - when I was just little. I am sorry that I listened when I should not have, but, truly, I already know about bad things, Lady Ilothuir."

The Elf grew thoughtful. "I know how heavily such things weigh. My father and brothers were killed when I was very young. It was long ago, but still I remember."

"I would be so sad if anything happened to Elladan and Elrohir. How did your family die?"

Ilothuir's face tightened. "It was long ago,” she repeated. “My apologies, young Estel. I should not trouble you while you are thinking, simply because I myself am distracted.” And with that, she stood and left the room abruptly, her guard trailing doggedly.

As Ilothuir left, Estel decided that enough time had passed that he might leave, too, but as he rose, he heard people arguing in the corridor and paused.

“Erestor, I am only asking to be allowed to fletch some arrows,” Nordheth was saying as she passed. “What do you think I will do with no bow? Poke someone in the eye?”

“I will not disregard Lord Glorfindel’s orders. And Lord Glorfindel has said no weapons of any kind are to be given to outsiders. I apologize for the inconvenience, Lady Nordheth, but that is my final word.”

“Well, can you not at least give us something to do? How are we supposed to occupy ourselves?”

“I believe Lindir has been using the library. It is quite extensive, if you would like to join him.”

“Erestor, I am a courier, not a scholar. I do not wish to spend my day with books, especially if that day might well be followed by many more just like it.”

“Go find Medlin, then. No doubt he has found some way to occupy his low tastes.”

There was a long pause.

“Forgive me,” Erestor said in a quieter voice. “I am beginning to be tired, and no doubt it is wearing on me.” The Elves moved down the hall, voices fading.

There was not a single grown-up in Imladris who was not in a foul mood today, Estel decided. After a moment’s consideration, he decided the best course of action would be to use great stealth, make his way to the kitchen while avoiding all eyes, and load up on provisions. Then he could go up to the attic where it was quiet, and spend the rest of the day there.

-----------------

Elrond sat next to Legolas’ still form and watched the last light fade as he leaned wearily against the back of his chair. He had tried to sleep earlier but it had been difficult with so much to worry over, and now he was deeply tired, less from lack of rest for his body than from lack of rest for his mind. He had questioned so many people so many times that he could barely remember who had given which answer any more. And the worst of it was he could swear no one was lying. Probably he was asking the wrong questions, then. What questions should he be asking?

A movement at the doorway caught his eye. Elrond gave a tired smile and motioned a sad-looking Estel inside the room.

Estel moved with gloominess and dragged his feet as he approached the chair where his foster father sat. “Papa,” he said seriously, “I have had a very, very bad day.”

In spite of himself, Elrond smiled at his seven-year-old’s utter dejection. “Truly? I, too, have had a trying day. Come sit with me and we will do our best to console one another.”

Estel clambered into the chair and squeezed in beside Elrond, who sneezed. He took a closer look at his son. “Estel! You are covered in dust and cobwebs! Whatever have you been up to?”

Estel did not answer, but sighed dramatically. “No one understands me at all,” he complained.

Elrond did not laugh. It was an effort, but he refrained and put a comforting arm around Estel instead. “My poor son. Is there some way in particular that you have been misunderstood today?”

“Ye – no. No, nothing particular. But it was still a very bad day.”

“Hm.” Elrond reached over to stroke Estel’s hair comfortingly. His fingers met a dusty, tangled nest. “What is this? Estel, did you forget to comb your hair this morning?”

Estel slumped. “I did not mean to. And anyway, it was a bother.”

Elrond did chuckle a little at this. “Now, now. At least this is a thing easily remedied. Come sit in front of me.”

Estel slipped down from the chair to kneel between his foster father’s legs, and Elrond proceeded to untie the hair thong that held nearly nothing in place. It was fairly easy to comb out Estel’s curls with his fingers, though it took longer. Thick hair like Estel’s was not meant for a bristle brush, in any case.

It was soothing to comb a child’s hair. It was a small oasis of normalcy in a time when so much seemed tense and hurtful, and Elrond took comfort in it.

“Was your hair longer than mine when you were my age, Papa?”

Elrond furrowed his brow in thought. Maglor, travel, war…hair. “It was longer, I believe,” Elrond replied eventually.

“Really? How long?”

“Mm…perhaps here.” Elrond gently poked Estel near the small of his back before he began to gather up the curls to braid them.

“You should let me grow my hair long, too. I bet Elladan and Elrohir did not wear their hair short when they were my size, either.”

Estel’s guess was correct: at Estel’s size, Elladan’s hair had been long enough for Elrohir to tie it around the porch rails. Twice. In very tight knots.

“It is long enough for one of the second-born. I do not know what your mother would say if I let you grow it longer.”

“She would not care,” Estel declared. “She never cares about things like that.”

Indeed, Elrond sometimes felt that if he were to paint Estel blue and place him atop the roof like a weather vane, Gilraen would not object. Nevertheless, Elrond felt himself wavering between his wish that Estel learn Men’s customs and his own preferences. “We will see,” he hedged.

He finished plaiting his foster son’s hair and tied it again. “There. Much better.”

Estel leaned his head against his foster father’s knee and rested there. “I love you, Papa.”

Elrond was unexpectedly saddened. Estel would be with him so briefly, here one day and gone the next, like the cherry blossoms that came in a burst of glory and blew away with the wind.

“I will not think of it,” Elrond told himself. Estel was in the early spring of his life. There would be many years yet for him.

“I love you, too, Estel.” Elrond gathered Estel into his lap, ready to ignore any protests along the lines of being “too big.” But no protests came and Estel snuggled quietly into Elrond’s arms.

Estel sat silently for a few moments before asking. “Will Legolas be all right?”

Elrond nodded. “I believe the worst of the danger is past. It is only a matter of time.”

“Legolas said that Imladris has a wonderful healing air, but he has been in the Halls of Healing a great deal since he came here, hasn’t he?”

Perhaps it was Elven insight that prompted Elrond to remark, “He does seem particularly accident prone, does he not? Perhaps he will be a great hero someday, and that is why he is having so many spectacularly bad adventures. It will make the tale-telling better.”

Estel speculated. “Perhaps I will be a great hero, too, someday, and that is why I keep falling off things.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but Elrond decided he preferred not to know. He turned his gaze to Legolas and wondered when he would finally awake.

“My Lord?”

Elrond turned to Erestor, who had come to stand in the doorway. He had a deep disinclination to find the cause of the concern on the councilor’s face, but he suspected he would know of it soon in any case.

“There is news – of a sort. One of the scouts Glorfindel sent out last night has returned and – you should come and see for yourself. It is down at the north entrance.” Erestor glanced at Estel. “Estel should not – Estel, perhaps you could come with me and…and read a story while your Papa is busy.”

With great unwillingness, Elrond sent Estel with Erestor and went to see the new trouble.

Legolas did not really want to open his eyes. It seemed the only things that did not hurt were his toes. Most especially, it hurt to breathe, and for that reason alone he was fairly certain he was not in Mandos' halls yet.

He had confused recollections of vague dreams, some of which had featured his father, worried and pacing. Those were easy to understand. When he was hurt Legolas often wished for his father.

Other dreams were not so easy to discern. He had dreamed of a broken sword, its shards scattered and useless, and of a ring worn by a Man who was calling his name. The man was a…king? A Man-king calling his name? It seemed unlikely. But those were only dreams, and all kinds of visions came with illness. Legolas was sure he was ill, even if he could not remember why. Why could he not remember what had gone on the night before, and why could he not open his eyes?

With a great effort, he pried his eyes open, and tried to make sense of what he saw. He had a strange feeling that he had been here before, looking up at the same carved beams. Ah, the carvings! Of course, he was in Imladris. He had come because…

“I see you are awake at last.”

He had come because someone was lost…

 “May I bring you anything?” asked the quiet voice beside him.

Legolas turned his head and saw Glorfindel beside him. “New body,” he managed to joke. Belatedly Legolas remembered with whom he was speaking, and that the “joke” might not be so funny to the Balrog-slayer who had perished in a fount of flame. The ghost of a smile that had crossed Legolas’ face faded.

“Hm,” Glorfindel said, looking him over. “I think you are not quite in need of a new body yet. Especially since you have been through such a lot with this one and it has stood you in good stead. Perhaps you are thirsty? Do you need water?”

Legolas nodded. “Thirsty.”

Glorfindel brought him a glass of water and then studied a list on the table near the bed. “I am supposed to ask you if you have any tenderness anywhere.”

Legolas let out a little huff of laughter, and it hurt. “Everywhere.”

Glorfindel smiled. “Oh, come now. Even your hair?”

“Especially th’ braid,” murmured Legolas. He sighed. “Still tired.”

“Then sleep again,” Glorfindel said. “Lord Elrond will be sorry he was not here for you when you awoke. I am sure he will be along later.”

“No,” Legolas protested, grasping at his dreams and bits of memories, “Must remember something.”

Glorfindel waited.

“Dark. I went…” But Legolas could only remember that someone had found him after a storm. He furrowed his brow in concentration.

“Do not worry,” Glorfindel soothed. “It should come to you soon. Any severe trauma of this kind…”

“No!” Insisted Legolas. “I know I – Oh!” And then, to Glorfindel’s amazement and alarm, Legolas tried to sit up.

“You will cease that immediately!” Glorfindel ordered. “You will – stop at once, I said.” He pushed Legolas back onto the bed. It was not difficult to hold Legolas in place, but Glorfindel worried that Legolas would injure himself all over again with his struggles.

“Let me go to my brother,” Legolas bit out, attempting to rise.

“Your brother is fine,” Glorfindel said. “Do you hear me? Your brother is fine. He has gone nowhere. He is uninjured. He is fine!”

Legolas stopped and searched Glorfindel’s face. “He is well?”

“Is that not what I have been saying?” Glorfindel chided, finally able to settle the patient in place. “I tell you, he is unharmed and just down the hall from you.”

The energy drained from Legolas as he heard the truth of Glorfindel’s words. The effort that Legolas had made to rise exhausted him. “Not the dungeon?”

Glorfindel chuckled. “Imladris has never needed a dungeon. Indeed, I do not know how Elrond would fare knowing that any being in his household was held in discomfort by his wishes.” He grew thoughtful. “Though I might wish we had one this day. It seems you have been poisoned by spider venom. One of Elrond’s sons found poisoned Lembas. I do not suppose you noticed who shared bread with you last night…”

Legolas nodded, unsurprised. “Knew it was spider. No feeling in my hands. But I could not speak.”

Legolas closed his eyes and at first Glorfindel thought he had gone to sleep.

Then Legolas spoke. “Shared with…Lindir…Gilraen…Elrohir…Lord Elrond…” Glorfindel brightened. He could safely discount a few of those people as suspects. His face fell again as Legolas furrowed his brow in concentration, then continued… “And Tavor…Laegyrn…Ilothuir…”

“You ate all that?” No wonder he hadn’t noticed the stomach cramps at first. Anyone might have had them from overeating!

“Wanted to be p’lite.” Legolas murmured, looking as if he were about to drift off.

Glorfindel sighed. “Well, that does still help. Thank you.”

“Why’d I dream of a king?” Legolas asked, half-asleep. “It was not my father…”

But Glorfindel was already thinking hard and was too distracted to notice.

-----

Elsewhere in the house, Erestor began to take Estel to the library to read a story.

“No,” said Estel, “I am not in the mood for a story. What did Papa have to look at downstairs? Why can I not see? Is it something to do with Laegyrn?”

Erestor glanced at Estel, startled. “What do you know about Laegyrn? And where did you hear?”

Estel dropped his eyes to the floor.

Erestor blew out an annoyed breath. “I suppose there is no keeping secrets from you, but I will not be the one to explain. Your Papa will decide what to tell you after he is done…after he is done. Something was found near the river.”

Estel pouted. “Well, anyway, I do not want a story. I want to know what is happening.”

“Perhaps you could…hmm…we could go up to the Star Dome,” Erestor bribed.

That was a special treat! Because telescopes were delicate, Estel was only allowed play in the stargazing room under close supervision.

Estel nodded eagerly and a few minutes later Erestor unlocked the door to the topmost room of the highest tower in the house of Lord Elrond.

Stargazing was something that Papa loved very much, and it was a joy he apparently shared with Erestor, who went to the tower nearly every night. The round room had six large balconies where a telescope could be placed, and the domed ceiling, blue-black, was painted with Arda’s constellations. Two tall pillars that looked like stone trees, each with a large pearl at the top, came up from the floor as if they were growing under the dome.

Estel moved to look at all the constellations in the painted sky.

“I know the Butterflynow,” Estel said, pointing. “And Helluin, too.”

“Very good,” Erestor approved. “Last year you didn’t know those.”

Then Erestor sat down at his big book. Estel knew he liked to write things about the stars: strange things he’d seen, like falling stars or comets, or things about the moon, or even things that he was only guessing about.

Estel walked the circumference of the room as he always did, looking at the murals on the walls. Although they were mostly of places that Estel did not know, one was clearly the waterfall in Imladris under a moonless sky. Papa had once said that all he saw that night he arrived were the stars and the waterfall, and so he knew he had come home.

Estel began to twirl slowly around the room, vigilant in avoiding a big metal contraption with copper balls that swung on wires. Then he made another circuit, saying, “Good morning Imladris…” He made another circuit. And another. He stopped, wagging a finger at something unseen. “Go to bed clouds!”

Erestor looked over his shoulder and Estel resumed his path, saying, “No, Clouds! I will not give you your way just because you stomp at me!”

Erestor sighed. “Estel, could you please be a little quiet? I finally have a moment to work on this equation, and I cannot concentrate while you are being a spinning top.”

Estel looked hurt. “I am not a top, Erestor! I am the sun. Remember when we had the storm and we found Legolas? Glorfindel said that…”

“Estel, please? I finally have a few minutes...”

“You do not have to say it all over again. I knew what you meant the first time.”

Estel walked to Erestor and looked over his shoulder at the page. The Elf was doing one of his long mathematical formulas that Estel could not understand at all. At least, Erestor said it was math, though the pages did not even look like they contained very many numbers. He’d asked Erestor about them before, and he asked again now.

“I do not understand. If you are doing math, then why is there a picture of a triangle? Or a pair of squiggles?”

“I think I can safely say that you will not understand any of my explanations until you at least learn long division,” Erestor said dryly.

Estel scowled. That was a no-answer answer. He walked to the small telescope and looked out. What a glorious view! He could see the far side of the valley, right down to the leaves on the ash tree, and even a squirrel going from one branch to another. He slowly swung the telescope to another place and saw the waterfall and the rocks. He moved the telescope again, looking for more animals.

Unexpectedly, he saw his father with the twins and a few other Elves examining something near the banks of the river. As far as he could see, it seemed to be a pile of old clothes and arrows and a few bags.

Something was clearly amiss. Elrond and Elrohir were having an animated discussion while Elladan was shaking his head. Estel looked carefully but the only thing nasty he saw that could have provoked Erestor’s earlier reaction was a leather vest with a dark stain - or perhaps the rope dangling from a slime-filled boot.

Suddenly remembering Elladan’s reaction the last time Estel had spied on his foster father, Estel turned his telescope toward the plateau.

---

It was late in the day when Elrond and Glorfindel returned to the Last Homely House and retired to the Library. Glorfindel, without being asked, poured them both very full cups of wine.

Elrond drank his in one swallow, and Glorfindel silently poured him another.

“Another killing.” Elrond spoke at last. “That is all we need. Where did the Elf come from? Her clothing was of Mirkwood, but why, if she was from Mirkwood, was she traveling in this direction? She must have been there for a time, else her body would have been…Well. She must have been there for a week, at the least. What could she possibly have to do with all this? And what am I to make of the fact that her knife was from Lorien?”

Glorfindel nursed his wine and said nothing in reply. Indeed, there was little to say. For his part, he was glad that the Elf had joined the earth before they found her trappings. It seemed cold to be relieved that he did not have to see the body, but relieved he was. There was a long silence.

Then Elrond ventured, “If I had not flooded the river, her remains might never have been found.”

“No.”

 “There was no tear in her clothing, though the blood in her clothes was over her heart. What would cause that, do you think?”

Glorfindel had no answer for this.

“Could she have been shot with an arrow? Or struck with a knife? Surely the stone tied to her boot was meant to keep her body in the river, and not to…”

“Lord Elrond…” Glorfindel did not want to talk about death any longer. “Drink your wine and let us think about all this on the morrow.”

“If her clothes were not torn, but showed the blood of a wound, then it seems likely that someone put clothes on her, or put different clothes on her, after she was dead.”

“Perhaps so.”

Elrond sighed. “Ought we have made a cairn for her there? Or should…”

“Elrond! Please, my friend, I want to sleep tonight.”

Elrond paused and glanced reproachfully at Glorfindel. “I do not like it either. But the longer we do not think of it, the longer the kin-slayer will remain with us.”

Nevertheless, the Lord of Imladris grew silent. As they settled back into their chairs Elrond said, “In all the excitement I did not think to ask if you had learned anything from Legolas.”

“Indeed, I was able to speak with him for a few moments. Much good it does us – Legolas ate more than was strictly good for him, in the name of being a good guest. Half of Imladris seems to have shared Lembas with him. But yes, Legolas gave me a list of those he broke bread with.” Glorfindel repeated the list of names.

Elrond mulled this over for a few minutes and then smiled, relaxing in great relief. “But Glorfindel, this is excellent news!”

Glorfindel frowned, shaking his head. “I do not see.”

Elrond leaned forward. “You do not see because you are not coupling the information from Legolas with the information Gilraen gave you.”

Glorfindel shook his head again. “No, I am tired, friend. You will have to explain it to me.”

“Easily. It is only an assumption, but it is at least a beginning: if we assume that the one who is guilty made the Lembas, and that the same person shared it with Legolas, we can omit several names right away. You see how?”

Glorfindel thought, then growled with exasperation at himself, striking his forehead with his palm. “Of course! Forgive me; I have had so much on my mind that it did not occur to me! Gilraen found the vial of poison in the kitchen as the Lembas was being made, therefore…”

“Therefore it is not certain, but probable, that our culprit is female.”

“I’d stake my life that it was none of our household who did the evil. But did our visitors participate in the baking?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Elrond smiled ruefully. “It was my intention to show our guests the fullest hospitality possible.”

Glorfindel frowned, reviewing the list of names in his mind, crossing off the ones who did not fit. “Wait. What you are thinking is not possible. Or was there a cohort in Laegyrn himself?”

Elrond took a sip of wine and closed his eyes. “I am developing a theory. It hinges on the death of the Elf that was hidden in the river. Would you like to hear it?”

Glorfindel’s eyebrows reached farther and farther aloft as Elrond explained. When Elrond at last finished, Glorfindel cleared his throat.

“My friend,” he said kindly, “Mayhap you should take some rest now. It has been a long and troublesome day.”

Elrond frowned, thinking. “It is the only explanation I can think of that touches on all recent matters.”

“But what would the motive be?” Glorfindel asked reasonably. “And why would she stay in Imladris rather than go elsewhere alone?”

“The motive for harming the king, we must still discover. As for the other - would you not be fearful of discovery, had you just attempted to murder the king and place the blame on his son? An Elf wandering alone without explanation would easily be found…” He was silent for a few minutes. “I believe I can find our culprit, though it will be risky. But first, let us go and speak to Laegyrn.”

Author's note: The title of this chapter is a bit tongue-in-cheek, as I started this story about six years ago.  Readers who emailed asking "who dunnit?" will probably be a little dismayed that this chapter has been finished for quite some time; I have finally gathered my resolve and decided to sit here until the story (revised plus the last chapter) is posted.  I would especially like to thank Lamiel and Daw-the-Minstrel, who beta-ed large portions of the story in 2004 and 2005.

---

“Laegyrn,” Glorfindel began when he and Elrond had come to the Mirkwood Elf’s rooms, “We must ask you –“

“How does my brother fare?” interrupted Laegyrn. “Is he well? Has he awakened?”

“He has wakened,” Elrond assured. “And I believe he will be very well with more rest, as long as he does not exert himself unduly.”

Laegyrn heaved a sigh of relief and sat on a chair in the small room. “I am grateful for the news.”

Elrond felt a pang of guilt that he had not conveyed that news earlier.

“I am glad to give it to you. But I have need of some information from you. I would like you to tell me how you and Ilothuir met. And if you would be as accurate as possible, it would help me, I think, to find out what happened to your brother – and perhaps your father, as well.”

“How can that help you?”

Elrond studied the Elf. “The remains of an Elf were found by the river. She had already joined Arda, but her clothes were, for the most part, intact. It is possible that her death could hold a clue to the perpetrator of the crimes in question.”

“I do not see how that might be. Regardless, I will hold nothing back from you for the sake of my brother.”

“That would be most helpful,” Glorfindel said dryly. “Though had the same courtesy been shown to the Lord Elrond earlier, Legolas might not be in danger now.”

“I did as it seemed wisest at the time,” Laegyrn said stiffly. “I could not know what pieces of the story it would be safe to tell you.”

Elrond frowned. “It is past. Please, tell us all you recall.”

“I was a day’s ride and more over the Misty Mountains, and I met Ilothuir -”

“You said you met Ilothuir in Lorien!”

“What difference would that make?” Laegyrn demanded. “I followed her trail and found her a day and a half later and we made our way here.”

“But you said Galadriel had sent you both!” exclaimed Glorfindel.

“No, but – that is, she did. Galadriel told me that she had sent Ilothuir already in this direction, but that I was a day or so behind. She said that she had sent another healer to serve as apprentice to you, and she felt that my path was intertwined with hers. So I found her.”

Glorfindel and Elrond exchanged glances.

“If she kept Galadriel’s letter…” murmured Glorfindel.

“Laegyrn,” pressed Elrond, “you are sure it was the same trail? The Misty Mountains would surely be a difficult place to find a lone traveler.”

“I was not, of course, looking at every stone in the road, but I could certainly see the tracks were from the same horse.” Laegyrn could see that something was amiss. “What? What do you believe happened?”

“Perhaps it was someone else’s horse. Someone that had ridden from Lorien, for example. Perhaps the Ilothuir we met was not truly sent by Galadriel.”

Laegyrn seemed both irritated and perplexed. “What? What do you mean?”

“We have found the remains of an Elf near the river,” began Glorfindel. “Her clothes seem not her own, and she had been shot, perhaps by an Elven arrow. Perhaps she had been set upon by someone on the road who killed her, and then switched clothes to disguise herself.  Perhaps that person took Galadriel’s letter. And perhaps this was even the same someone who poisoned your brother.”

It took a few moments for Laegyrn to follow Glorfindel’s implication. “Ilothuir would never do such a thing! She is a gentle soul… and as soon as I looked in her eyes, I knew that fate had brought us together. I will believe nothing unpleasant of her; I feel a part of her is bound up in me.”

Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged another look.

“We have reason to believe that your brother ate spider-poisoned Lembas,” Glorfindel began.

“But that is blasphemy! And if it were so, why do you not accuse Nordheth? Why do you accuse Ilothuir?”

“We do not accuse her,” Elrond said. “But you understand that we must look at all the possibilities.”

“I will believe nothing ill of her!” Laegyrn repeated stubbornly.

Elrond looked away. “Will you come and talk to Ilothuir with us? Innocent or not, perhaps she has some answers.”

Laegyrn nodded. “I will come. But I am convinced that you will find she knows nothing.”

Glorfindel knocked on Ilothuir’s door, but opened it without waiting for an answer.

Ilothuir, beautiful and strange, stood quickly from the bed and moved in front of it. Her long, gold hair was gone – or rather, it lay upon the bed like some strange white-gold silk. Her own hair, cut unevenly near to her skull, was as dark as a spider’s eye. Her arms were folded into her long white sleeves.

“Ilothuir?” Laegyrn said uncertainly.

Glorfindel had decided only that morning that he better wear a sword for the time being, and now he put his hand upon the pommel of it.

“Stand aside,” he said. “Let the Lord Elrond see what you are hiding behind you.”

Ilothuir’s eyes were wide. “Hiding? My Lord, what have I to hide from you?”

Glorfindel snorted impolitely, and Elrond frowned. “You ask what you have need to hide from me, but you do not say you are not hiding something. I see that you are not who you claim to be, and I am done with half-truths. Let me see, if you will, what it is that is behind you.”

“My Lord!” Ilothuir protested, “With all respect, I do not -”

To Elrond’s surprise, it was Laegyrn that strode forward to see what objects Ilothuir hid, and so it was Laegyrn who went pale, and Laegyrn who, in staring at the bed, missed the sudden look of rage on Ilothuir’s face.

"Medlin said there were tracks in the mud that led to my chambers. They found my own arrow. A vial of spider venom.” Laegyrn took a shaky breath. “Your hair is dark like that of my people, so you might have lived in my father’s kingdom but…you did not do those things, did you Ilothuir? You did not do those things…you did nothing…” He paused, and almost choked on his words as he whispered, “Ilothuir, why have you one of Nordheth’s arrows? My Love, what…what is in those bottles?”

Hearing this, Glorfindel drew his sword and began to approach, but Ilothuir was too quick. She reached behind her, snatching two vials from the bed and undoing the stoppers. Elrond saw the glint of something shining near her other hand too, though it was too hidden between her fist and sleeve to see exactly what it was.

“Let me go,” she said evenly, raising the vials. “If I throw this in your eyes you might never recover your sight. Perhaps you are quicker than I, but what if you are not?”

Laegyrn took a careful step forward. “You trust me Ilothuir. You know I love you. Come to me. I will take -”

“Stay! Not another step!” Ilothuir shouted, taking aim. “I will never let the darkness overcome my home! The shadow must be vanquished, and if Thranduil and his sons will not do it, I must!”

“I thought you loved me!” Laegyrn cried out, turning his head from her as if he could not stand to look into her eyes any longer.

“I did! I do,” answered Ilothuir with what seemed like genuine regret. “But I love my home still more! Please understand, I only did what I had to, and you would have been safe enough imprisoned for a while.”

Elrond was filled with horror. “You killed some poor soul you found on the way to us.  You took a letter of introduction from Galadriel. You slew a fellow Elf and took her clothes and tied a stone to her and left her in the river!” His stomach roiled as he looked at Ilothuir’s dark, shorn head. “Where did you come upon the hair for your wig, Ilothuir?” He swallowed the bile that had quickly risen in his throat. “I do not even know your true name. For the sake of the Valar, I beg you to tell me: what is it that you have done?”

The Elf called Ilothuir raised her chin. “I never did it for me! I did it for my people! King Thranduil let the shadow come to our Greenwood! Thranduil allowed the shadow to overcome his kingdom and now my brothers and father are dead. Thranduil must not be allowed to rule, for the sake of my people – the people who die year after year like so many leaves on an autumn tree.”

“Your people?” Elrond said in disbelief. “You do your people a great disservice. Do you really think lying and kinslaying are the way to stop the shadow? You poor child, you still have a little talent – you truly might have been a great healer if you had come to me honestly, and perhaps then you could have saved some of your people. But one cannot deal death with one hand and life with the other. The great healing gift you had once must have diminished after you attempted to take the king’s life. Is that not so? And how much more after you took the life of the Elf in the river? And now -”

“It matters not. I was never meant to be a healer.”

“Whoever you were meant to be, you are a kin-slayer now!” So saying, Glorfindel strode forth and made as if to knock the small bottles from her hand, but Ilothuir threw her vials wildly, causing Glorfindel to jump aside and Laegyrn to duck his head.

Now that the venom was gone Elrond made a grab for Ilothuir’s arm. To his dismay he saw that the shining thing she had been hiding in her opposite sleeve was a knife that was now sliding into her hand, and he had to step back at the last moment to avoid her thrust at him.

“You know nothing!” she shouted as she ran into the hall. Glorfindel, Elrond, and Laegyrn followed close behind

She’s running opposite the way out, thought Elrond. She’ll never be able to reach the door. He went cold as he saw her running towards the library and suddenly saw what she meant to do. No, he thought no, no, no!

But to his dismay Ilothuir turned into the library and ran straight for Estel, who, just as she must have guessed, was stretched out on the window seat reading a book as usual. He gave a cry as Ilothuir snatched him up from his perch.

“Now,” said Ilothuir without emotion, setting her knife by the child’s ear, “you will let me go.”

Estel screamed, and time seemed to freeze.

“Ilothuir,” Elrond said carefully, reasonably, trying not to look at the frightened boy, “this is not the way. I think that you, yourself, may have been under shadow too long. I think you may be ill of it. Can you not see? You need to heal from the shadow that has crept into your soul. If you could but rest a while… Let go of my son, and we will talk.”

“There is nothing to speak of!” Ilothuir began to back away, dragging Estel to the main door. “I lost my brothers to the shadow! I have lost my father. No one else shall lose their loved ones!”

Estel shrieked again. “Papa! Don’t let her take me.”

Ilothuir only pressed her cold knife harder into the little boy’s skin. “Quiet! You will come with me without struggle, do you hear me? I will take you all the way through the mountains with me, if I must, and I had better have no noise from you.”

“Ilothuir,” Laegyrn tried again.

“I am sorry Laegyrn,” Ilothuir said. “I truly am. But,” she looked at the three adults before her, “you must not follow me. You know I will do what I need to do.” She gave Estel a little shake and Estel, doing his best to be quiet, smothered a sob through closed lips. Tears were running down his face and his eyes silently asked for help.

Ilothuir backed out of the room slowly, and for a horrible moment Elrond was sure that Estel was lost.

Then, in unexpected reprieve, Ilothuir’s eyes rolled up and she crumpled to the floor.

Gilraen stood above her, a frown on her face and a poker from the fireplace in her hand. “That,” she said in careful Elvish, “is for trying to harm my son.”

Estel extracted himself and ran to Elrond and held his Papa tightly, crying. “What was she doing, Papa? Why did she do that?” He sobbed and Elrond stroked his son’s head. He did not know what to say.

As Glorfindel and Laegyrn came to take charge of the kin-slayer, Gilraen came forward and knelt be Estel, who turned to from his foster father and put his arms around his mother’s neck. “Mama!” the little boy cried. “Mama! I was so scared. I was scared. Why did she do that? Elves do not do such things. Not elves.”

Elrond watched Estel, and his heart was filled with pain. “Forgive me, son of Arathorn,” he whispered. “I only meant to keep you safe.”

“Shh,” Gilraen whispered to her son. “I’m here, darling. I’m here.”

--

Estel watched from Imladris’ lowest porch as the Mirkwood folk readied to leave with their prisoner bound between them. Papa had said that they would take Ilothuir back to the Forest King, Legolas’ father.

“What will he do with her, Papa?” Estel asked. He had never heard of a punishment for such a crime among the Elves.

Elrond, who had, swallowed, and took a few moments to answer. “He will do whatever the laws of Mirkwood require. Ilothuir tried to murder their king and one of his sons, and to blame the other son for her crimes. Those are very serious matters, and such things have not happened for a very long time. I cannot think that Thranduil has a precedent; he will have to use his best judgment. No doubt he knows that the shadow causes many folk to become ill in a way they otherwise would not. I trust him to show what mercy he is able.”

Estel nodded and, as he noticed Legolas mounting his horse, ran down the steps to the riders to say one last good-bye.

Legolas saw Estel approach, and in a flash Legolas understood his dreams. His eyes flicked to Elrond. Elrond must know who it was he sheltered, and who the boy was destined to become. Did they boy know, himself? Well, if Elrond had his secrets, he would have reasons for them as well. Legolas would keep his own council about his knowledge.

“Good-bye, Legolas.” Estel was peering up past the horse’s nose and rocking back and forth on his toes as if he was just stopping himself from swinging onto the horse behind his friend. “I will miss you very much.”

“And I you,” Legolas returned. “Though I admit I will be happy to go back to the calm of fighting giant spiders in my father’s forests.”

Estel took this at face value, and nodded solemnly. “Will you come and visit? Mostly, we are very calm in Imladris, too. Usually we do not like quite so many adventures here,” he added pointedly, with a look at the other riders. “At least, not till I am grown,” he corrected thoughtfully. “Perhaps I will want to have more adventures then.”

Legolas smiled, but his eyes were serious. “Indeed I will visit, young one. And when you are grown, I would not miss your adventures for the world.” For I know you, little King. And I will surely be watching to see what you become.

“Fare thee well, Legolas!”

“Fare thee well, Estel!” said Legolas. He turned his horse to leave Imladris, noting as he did so that the cherry trees were finally bare of blossoms and were full of green leaves instead.